Everyone, thank you so much for the suggestions you gave me to work with! It sure made searching information easier on me the past week... So really, thank you all so much for that!
And also thanks to everyone who favourited, followed and/or reviewed! You're awesome!
I've also got a little surprise...
I got access to my YouTube account back, and I uploaded the Prussia-Hamilton PMV!
Here's the link: /watch?v=eqxZWmnYOuM (copy-paste it behind the usual web-address)
You can also search "Hetalia PMV Wait for it Prussia" -It'll be the one on top.
(Was about time, eh?)
So yeah, I hope you'll enjoy the chapter, and also the video if you'll be watching it!
By January 1943, Germany was back form the Eastern Front, likely for a longer period of time. He wasn't in Berlin either, but rather in Königsberg, as Berlin wasn't the safest place at the time. Considering the reason Germany was at home now affected Prussia just as much, at least the two brothers were together again after months of separation.
They were losing against the Red Army at the Eastern Front. Cities were being bombed continually. On top of all that, of course the economy was worsening due to the war by now, too. None of it was doing Germany's health any good, and although Prussia wasn't doing as bad yet, it was a good idea for him to take it easy for as long as the situation was this bad. They had just heard that Austria was on his way to Königsberg also, after he had finally collapsed one afternoon working in Auschwitz. Germany at least had been expecting that for a year now. For two days, the Austrian had been looked after by the medical staff there, but he had refused to stay at the camp any longer and had finally been sent home. Prussia was already preparing to be running around in order to look after both his brother and his cousin at the same time.
Early in February, the German army surrendered in the Battle of Stalingrad on the Eastern Front, one of their first major losses against the Allied Forces so far. In the meantime, British and American troops were driving back the German soldiers on the North African Front also, as well as getting near to defeating the Italian army. It was getting bad.
Even so, Prussia didn't have to do the running around he'd been preparing for until the 9th, when Vienna and Berlin were bombed on the same day, along with Munich.
The Prussian was carefully cleaning a cut on Germany's right shoulder, caused by the bombing on Munich, while the younger nation sat with his jaws clenched tightly. He tried not to show that he was in pain, but Prussia knew better of course. Attacks on one's capital hurt like hell, and Germany had to suffer through a lot of those in this war.
Germany sighed when Prussia wrapped a bandage around his shoulder; the cut wasn't bad enough to need stitches, thankfully. "You should go to Austria," the young German said in a soft voice. "The state he's been in the past weeks, he'll need you more than I do now." Right after saying that, he drew in a sharp breath, his muscles growing tense as Berlin was hit with another bomb.
Prussia looked at his little brother sadly, hesitating for a moment. He knew that Austria was doing worse than Germany, but the Free State struggled to let his precious brother out of sight while he was also injured and being attacked. But when Germany stared at him wordlessly, he sighed and nodded, then got to his feet. "You take it easy, Ludwig," the Prussian said gently before he left the room, glancing over his shoulder one last time to make absolutely sure that Germany would be all right without him.
The teenager only sighed. "Just go."
Silently Prussia slipped up the stairs after that, going to the bedroom Austria was occupying. He knocked on the door first, and only got a grunt for an answer. Feeling a pang of worry, the albino immediately went in. "Are you all right?"
Austria lay on his bed, back turned toward Prussia. He was clearly in discomfort as he lay there. "I'm okay, I guess," he answered tautly. The older nation curled up a little, clearly showing that he wanted to be alone.
But then, when had Prussia ever taken any notice of what Austria did and didn't want? He walked over to his cousin's side and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to be gentle. "If you need help, Roderich, just tell me," he insisted carefully. "You know that I can help."
Although Austria didn't look up, his lips twisted into a little smirk. "True; Hungary would've been dead if you hadn't been here." Finally he glanced at Prussia, his dark blue eyes dull with exhaustion and pain like they had been from the day he got to Königsberg. He didn't say a word anymore, though.
Staring his cousin in the eyes and seeing just how bad he was doing made Prussia's chest feel tight with distress, making breathing difficult. He couldn't take that for more than a few seconds before he sat down on the edge of the bed, leant over Austria and pulled him up. Prussia held him tightly, silent, and after a moment of shock the Austrian hugged him back.
He chuckled for a moment. "I still can't get over how much our relationship's changed," the older nation said softly, a little hoarse. "A century ago…"
"A century ago was then," Prussia replied, holding Austria just a little tighter. "I-I said I wouldn't risk losing you, too…" His throat felt like it was on fire, and it took Prussia until he felt his eyes burning as well to realise that he was struggling not to burst into tears… for some reason. "That doesn't just apply to me not fighting you anymore, you know?" he went on, his voice quivering a little. "I don't want to lose you, not you too, not in any way!" Silencing himself quickly, the Prussian took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. Austria probably couldn't use a stressed-out cousin clinging to him. Once calm, he let go of Austria and sat back a little. "Just… take care of yourself, will you?"
Austria smiled a bit at this. "Of course I'm taking care of myself, you fool," he promised reassuringly. "Just make sure to do the same. You say you don't want to lose me. Well, the feeling is mutual."
Those simple words knocked the breath out of Prussia again, and he looked away. At the exact same moment, Austria flinched and grunted softly, his right hand flying to his chest and gripping it tightly. Another bomb on Vienna. Biting his lip a little, Prussia hastily said: "Are you sure you don't need my help? The least I can do is bring you some water, you know. Do you want some water?"
Austria didn't answer immediately, first taking a couple of deep breaths in an effort to ease his pain. After about a minute, he sighed, looking up at Prussia again. "Some water would be nice, yes," he croaked feebly. Then something flashed in his dark eyes, a flicker of doubt, and Prussia felt uncomfortable yet again. But then the Austrian blinked that emotion away and he lay back down. "Honestly, though, I just want to try and sleep a bit. Could you please not bother me for a few hours? I mean, well… Thank you for coming to check on me, Prussia, but I'll call you if I really need help. I promise I will. All right?"
Unable to breathe for a moment, Prussia got up and nodded, choking out a soft 'yes' before quickly leaving the room.
As soon as he'd closed the door behind him, the Prussian gulped in air again. Standing against the door like that, he felt himself trembling, and his breathing was quick and shallow.
Why had Austria said that? Why did he have to say that, for God's sake, why?! Prussia could take care of himself all he wanted, that wasn't going to prevent his cousins and his little brother and his rare few friends from losing him someday. No matter what he would do to look after himself, keep himself healthy, he was going to disappoint them all one day and leave. He would leave Germany without his last surviving sibling, who also just so happened to have raised him -basically the young nation would be an orphan by then, and it would all be because Prussia was too weak to survive.
He had promised both Austria and Hungary countless times that he would be careful, he would be all right. He had promised Germany that he would always be there for him, that he would make sure his little brother would never be alone, would never experience true loneliness. He was going to break all those promises. Every single one of them.
But they need me! he thought desperately, still struggling to breathe. I thought I could, but I can't leave them, not ever! Ludwig will need me during this war. He'll need me after it, too. Austria just said he doesn't want to lose me, and Hungary… He stepped away from the door, still shaking like a leaf, his legs wobbly underneath him. How would Lizzie feel if I just up and left now, of all times? He stumbled for a moment, gasping for breath. I still need to make it up to Netherlands and Belgium and Luxembourg… Dizzy, he could only just keep himself from staggering into the wall.
"It's all right, Prussia," a gentle, warm voice told him then. The Holy Roman Empire. "You're not dying yet, I promise. You won't have to leave anyone anytime soon."
"Wow, really," another voice then chuckled, sounding somewhat condescending. Prussia recognised it as being Second Bavaria, although he couldn't bring himself to look up and confirm this. "So much for accepting your impending death, then."
"Shut up, Bavaria!" Holy Rome retorted, sounding impatient with her. "It happens. When your death is slow, at least, this happens: you're afraid at first, but then you come to accept it after a while. Even then, though, you'll relapse into dreading it sometimes. It's normal." Then the dead Empire knelt down in front of Prussia, who had by then sat down against the wall, trying desperately to get his breathing back under control. Seeing his brother already eased his mind, especially when Holy Rome smiled warmly. "Really, Prussia, it's all right," he said reassuringly. "You'll live for a while yet. There's no way that you could let anyone down, I promise you. Even if you were to die today, you wouldn't be letting anyone down. Did you feel let down by me when I died? Or Brandenburg? Any of the others?"
Unable to speak, Prussia just shook his head. He was feeling light-headed with his erratic breathing, but at least his heart wasn't pounding against his ribs anymore. Of course not. He'd been hurt, he'd been lonely, he'd been miserable, but disappointment was about the last thing he'd felt when any of his family members had died.
Holy Rome's smile grew a little wider. "They won't be disappointed in you, little brother, they're not shallow like that. They know that you would never leave them if you had a choice. They know that you would look after them and assure their safety and well-being with your last breath. You could never disappoint anyone. Not ever."
Prussia shook his head again, gritting his teeth. "Myself," he gasped. Somehow it only then dawned on him that he was hyperventilating. Not good. "I-I'd… let… myself down…" He wanted to help so bad. His heart ached whenever he looked at his little brother and his cousin and saw them suffering in this war. He had hoped Heydrich's death would make things a little easier on Austria as well as himself, but nothing had changed, not in the grand scheme of things. Austria was still being worked to death, almost, and Prussia was completely reliant on his blood pressure medication again, almost as much as he had been in the months after he first had his brain haemorrhage. Meanwhile, Germany was still struggling as much as ever, completely lost and unsure what to do.
Suddenly he was aware of Brandenburg getting onto her knees in front of him after Holy Rome had moved aside to make space for her. Her calm gaze as she was staring straight at him compelled him to look up and not look away. There was a very gentle hint of a smile on her lips and her eyes began twinkling with warmth as he met her gaze. Her voice was soft and soothing when she spoke. "Breathe in, sweetheart," she told him calmly. "Breathe in deeply." It was difficult for a moment, but he managed. "Good, good. Hold that for a moment. Now breathe out slowly…"
It took her only a minute to get Prussia's breathing to slow down again, and although he was still a bit dizzy, he smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Brand." Prussia took his time to breathe a little longer after that, until he felt his distress subside completely. Almost completely. The albino sighed deeply, feeling utterly helpless. "I need to help them, Brand," he whispered as he closed his eyes. "Somebody needs to help them. The thing is, though, that nothing I do makes any difference." Prussia looked up at Brandenburg again, then glanced at Holy Rome, Bavaria, Hesse and Hanover who were also there. "The only thing that will set things right is an end to this war. How can I do that? It's impossible."
Silent for a moment, Prussia got to his feet and turned to the stairs. His panic attack was over now, and he had other things to do than to sit there and freak out. He had promised Austria some water, and he didn't want to stay away from Germany too long, either. Not only that, but it was probably also a good idea to take his pills a little early today, after hyperventilating and going into a complete panic. He thanked Brandenburg and Holy Rome again, then went downstairs, lost in thought.
"How to end the war…?"
As the year progressed, Germany got increasingly anxious about the way the war was going for them. He'd felt sick when, in April, he'd heard the announcement of the discovery of a mass grave in Poland. His own government blamed the Soviet Union for it, of course, while the Soviets blamed the Nazis. It took Germany days to calm down enough to not think about it all the time. He wanted to believe his people had nothing to do with it, of course, but he honestly wasn't sure. He wouldn't put it past Hitler to do such a gruesome thing. Hell, he was doing it, just in a different way. Behind barbed wire-fences.
Prussia assured him that the discord this discovery and the reactions of the Soviet Union sowed among the Allied Forces was in their advantage, but Germany didn't see much of that when their troops were being pushed back on the North African Front. The Italian army was losing, and they didn't seem to have the will to fight for their victory anymore, either. In May, the battle on the African Front was officially lost after the German and Italian forced surrendered.
In June it became clear that Italy would soon be invaded, when air raids on the Mediterranean nation occurred increasingly often. Germany was sent there to speak to both personifications of the land and ensure their continued alliance.
July was no better, when it started with a failed operation on the Eastern Front; just over a week into it, Hitler called the offensive off, but the Red Army was relentless and continued the fight even when the German army was retreating. Germany was in Rome with the Italian brothers that month, and he was also there when the Italian capital was bombed for the first time.
It wasn't long after that before German troops entered Italy to help defend their land against the Allied invasion. Neither of the two brothers seemed to appreciate it all that much, though, and it was from that point onward that Germany felt a lot less welcome with them. Still, there wasn't much to suggest that anything bad was coming, until the end of summer, when the Italians started resisting the German occupation of their land.
It was in October, when Germany had just returned after being within his own borders for two months, that things got really bad.
"You dare show your face here again, you Potato Bastard?" Romano snapped at him the moment he saw the younger nation. The Italian was tense and crankier than Germany had seen him all year, and that meant something.
A little taken aback by this sudden hostility, Germany narrowed his icy blue eyes at Romano. "Obviously. I was told to discuss the matter of the uprisings with you both. Can't you try to stop them? It's about the last thing either of us can use right now." When he had first heard about them a little while ago, even Prussia had looked stressed out over it, although he hadn't said a word on the matter. Before being told to go back to Rome, Germany had avoided talking about it with his brother after that first news; Prussia had been sick throughout nearly all of September, due to the economy and the losses on the Eastern Front, mostly due to stress though, and the higher blood pressure that came with it. Germany hadn't wanted him to worry too much and make it even worse. The Prussian already had a higher dose of his medication again.
Now, though, Germany wished his brother were here, someone who had more experience with these things, unfortunate as that may be. The German still craved clarity and guidelines that he could follow as much as when he'd been a child, and he had no idea what to do when suddenly he felt the barrel of a gun against the back of his head.
"We could try," Veneziano said behind him. "We just don't want to. Both of us are tired of this war of yours, Germany. We've lost and we're done. Just let us make peace with our enemies and leave us alone from now on."
Startled, Germany couldn't breathe for a moment. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stood with a gun against his head, and he certainly hadn't been in this position before with a nation personification on the other side of the weapon. He hoped Italy was just bluffing, and that he didn't have his finger on the trigger.
That was what Germany placed his bets on when he ducked forward quickly and lashed out with a strong, backwards kick. He hit Veneziano squarely in the chest, knocking him back hard. The gun flew out of the older nations hand, and just the fact that it didn't go off when it hit the floor convinced Germany that the safety lock hadn't been undone. For just a split second, he felt bad for attacking his ally since he'd clearly not intended to truly injure him, but the German quickly shook off that guilt. His allies were betraying him at the worst time possible and one of them had threatened him with a gun -his actions were completely justified.
The blond nation didn't wait for even a second after knocking Veneziano away before he threw Romano to the floor as well. He braced himself for another attack when both Italians quickly scrambled to their feet, looking absolutely enraged and desperate at the same time. "What was that all about, Italy?!" he snapped at Veneziano then, trying to control his nerves. What was going on? What was he supposed to do? The German gritted his teeth. I thought we were allies!
Romano stepped in front of Veneziano protectively, and it was only then that Germany realised the younger of the two brothers was gasping for breath, wheezing a little. Had Germany done that? Who was he kidding; of course he had. Romano looked furious, but he was trembling as he stood there.
"We don't want to fight for you anymore!" the elder brother snarled at Germany, clenching his hands into fists. "We won't fight your war anymore, Potato Bastard!"
Anger flared up in Germany at those words. "My war?" he echoed indignantly. "Hypocrisy at its finest! You started fighting before I did -you invaded nations before we did!" For a moment he was lost for words, but then he let out a low growl. "Goddammit, we're allies! That's what allies do for each other!"
"Can't you understand that we're done for?" Veneziano argued, still short of breath, his brown eyes wide with distress. "Germany, bambino, we can't-!"
"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Germany startled himself with his angry roar, but he didn't hold back after it. Almost subconsciously he bunched his muscles, ready for an attack. "You still think I'm just a child, then? Think again!" He lashed out fiercely, and Veneziano ducked only just in time, whimpering in fear. Germany scoffed at this. "Cowering from a little kid, Veneziano?" he sneered angrily. "You goddamn weakling. The both of you! Traitors and cowards!"
Romano didn't let that slide, but his reprisal was feeble. "What are you, then?" he snapped at the younger nation. "A weak little shit who can't fight his own wars."
Not even half of Romano's words actually reached Germany in his panic, but the few he heard sent shivers down his spine. Weak. Prussia had been so sick last month. The stress was getting to him as much as it did Germany and Austria, but where it was troublesome and unhealthy for them, it was downright dangerous to Prussia. Can't fight. The vivid nightmare he'd once had still lay fresh in his mind, and right now they were just staring at him, two lifeless red eyes, forming a stark contrast against ghostly white skin. Prussia would suffer most from losing this war, but he was unable to fight for himself now. The Free State was completely dependent on his younger brother and his allies. His life depended on them!
You can't stop fighting for him…!
Germany gritted his teeth in rage and fear. "Do you even know what you're doing?" he asked in a low voice. "Do you have any clue what you're causing with this?" His heart beat fast. No response. He could hardly breathe. Romano glanced at his younger brother before glaring at Germany again. Brother. Prussia. Brother. Prussia.
NO!
In a wave of panic, Germany lunged for Romano, closing his fingers around his throat. In one smooth movement, he pulled the older Italian away from Veneziano, who yelped in fear then immediately begged Germany to let his brother go. Meanwhile Romano was desperately scratching his hand and wrist to make him stop, but Germany's grip didn't slacken despite the pain. Veneziano was shaking all over and had tears in his eyes. "Germany, please, don't do this!" he pleaded desperately.
But the young nation was in just as much of a panic himself. "An eye for an eye, Italy!" he yelled. "And a brother for a brother!"
Romano's attempts to free himself were weakening quickly. Veneziano looked at him quickly and whimpered. "You're killing him, Germany!" the Italian cried out. "Let him go, please, let him go!"
"Then stop killing my brother, too!"
"I don't get what mean!"
With an angry roar, Germany flung Romano away, who crashed into his younger brother. The two Italians both fell to the floor again, and this time they made no attempt to get up. Romano was clutching his bruised neck and gasping for breath, while Veneziano was speaking frantically to him in Italian, too fast for Germany to follow. The German watched with clenched jaws and tight fists as the younger of the two Italians pulled his brother onto his lap and held him close, shushing him softly.
After what felt like an eternity, Germany managed to force some words over his lips. "I won't let harm come to my brother any more than you will, Veneziano," he said, his voice strained. "If this is what you want, you can have it. Just know that whatever's coming, you asked for it yourself." Then he quickly spun around and went out the door with quick paces, slamming it shut behind him.
His mind reeling in panic, Germany left the city as quickly as he could.
Days later, Italy declared war on Germany.
Germany came back to Berlin right after leaving Rome. The battles they were losing were getting to him yet again, and a new enemy didn't do him much good either. He had hoped Prussia was still there, but the albino was gone. He phoned to Königsberg, but no one picked up. The Prussian was probably out of the house at the time Germany called him. He would try again later.
But Prussia didn't pick up the next time he called either. Or the next. Or the next.
He was tired, he was worried, he was in pain because of the battles. He was alone, too. A month after the declaration of war from Italy, Berlin was bombed again. It was light this time, but people were still killed in the attack. Days later the city was attacked again, however, and this time the damage was significant.
By then, Germany had still been unable to get hold of his brother, Austria was back at work, for now in the Janowska concentration camp Germany had heard; just days before, on 19 November, there had been an uprising there, and Austria had been called away to that camp in a rush.
The young nation was in a shelter when the bombing was still going on. Thankfully there weren't many people there with him, and they were all from his own neighbourhood, so they were more familiar with how things worked for him than most other people would have been.
One of his neighbours sat beside him there, and elderly man, and every now and then he would tell Germany to calm down a little, to take a deep breath and exhale slowly. The nation was wheezing in pain and shivering. Blood was seeping into his shirt from a cut that had appeared on his chest. The old human beside him helped him a little, but there wasn't much anyone could do.
The young woman from across the street was watching them anxiously. Eventually she inched closer almost nervously. "Ludwig," she began -Germany had the habit of telling any neighbours to not bother calling him by his nation name- "that brother of yours, Gilbert… Is he around too?"
Germany shook his head, unable to answer for a moment.
The woman didn't quite look at ease with his answer. "I haven't seen him in over a month. Normally that's not too surprising, but last I saw him he wasn't looking good…"
"I think this is not the time, Julia," the man interrupted her gently whilst giving Germany a firm pat on the shoulder. "Breathe in, Ludwig. Just breathe in deeply."
Feeling as if he was choking, Germany nodded feebly, trying desperately to do as he was instructed to. Why had that woman mentioned Prussia now? Or that he wasn't doing well last she'd seen him? It only got Germany more worried about his brother, which in turn got his breathing even more erratic than it had been. He felt sick just then.
"Gilbert mentioned to me once that he was heading Eastward again," another woman, who lived two houses down the road from them, then said reassuringly. "He must've gone to Königsberg. Or maybe he's gone back to work after all. He's a responsible, intelligent young man; he'll be fine wherever he is."
Germany nodded again, gritting his teeth as he felt another jolt of pain hit his chest. He wanted to believe her. He really did. He just didn't know whether he could.
If Prussia was in Königsberg, why didn't he ever answer his phone if Germany called? If he had still been sick or in any way not fit to work, why would he have gone back to work anyway? None of it made sense.
Where are you, brother?
Early in October, after Germany had just left to go to Rome, Prussia packed his things to go East. He didn't pack much: some clothes, his pills, his spare glasses. A pistol. Bullets.
the Prussian had finally figured out a way to help his little brother and his cousin and everyone, after talking to a General who had been on prolonged sick leave in Berlin in August. The man was fiercely against Hitler, like Prussia was by now and had been for some time. They, together with the Prussian lieutenant who had helped Prussia out years before by getting him onto the medical staff, had discussed what to do about the war a few times. They had all come to the same conclusion, although the two humans preferred to work with well thought-out plans. Prussia didn't have the time for plans; this had to be done as quickly as possible.
The only way to end the war now, was to end Hitler himself.
Instead of going to Königsberg again, Prussia went to Wolf's Lair in East Prussia, his leader's hideout and bunker. It was no trouble getting inside; he was welcome there, albeit a little reluctantly so. It was no trouble getting close to Hitler, who had a set routine each day.
The real trouble was getting over his nerves and just do what he had come here to do.
After a week in Wolf's Lair, Prussia finally gathered the courage. Gun hidden under his shirt, Prussia went to Hitler's office with determination fuelling him. He paused in front of the door for a moment, taking a deep breath. Then he went inside, gun drawn.
The nation instantly aimed his leader's head. Hitler stared at him wide-eyed for just a heartbeat. Prussia moved his finger to the trigger.
An ear-splitting bang.
With a choked cry, Prussia dropped his gun, which clattered to the floor. He tightly clenched his bleeding left hand with his right, his teeth gritted in rage and pain. Before he could do anything, though, he was shot again, in the stomach this time. With another cry of pain, Prussia dropped to the floor. He lay trembling for a moment, agony pulsing in his belly and blood flowing out of him quickly.
He heard Hitler mutter a soft thanks to whoever was in his office also and had shot Prussia down. Then he directed his attention at Prussia instead. "I expected as much from you," he said coldly. "From day one. I'm surprised it took you so long, to be honest. Still, I'd hoped you wouldn't be such a fool."
Prussia scrambled up a bit, glaring at his poor excuse of a leader. "If you guessed I would do this, that means you must know you deserve it," he sneered, coughing up some blood afterward. "At least that's one good thing, then. Kudos to you, asshole."
Hitler didn't look too impressed. "I wouldn't be so smug, if I were you," he replied in an even more icy tone than before. "I've also already planned what to do with you in a situation like this, and you know you're not going to like it." The human then nodded to whoever else was there, and Prussia heard some rummaging behind him.
The albino craned his neck to see. He didn't immediately recognise the soldier who was there, but he did recognise the object he held in his hand.
A syringe.
"You see, I believe I must thank you for one thing," Hitler said calmly as the soldier approached Prussia almost menacingly. "You did, after all, tell me what was in that little 'cocktail', as you called it, that you used on Poland. I hope you don't mind we increased to dosage."
"Prepared it the moment you showed your ugly face here," the other man added as he leant down. Prussia tried to fight him off, but with one hand in tatters and a bullet still lodged somewhere in his stomach, he didn't get very far before the human pierced his skin with the needle. It stung as the liquids were injected into his bloodstream. He struggled some more, but the sedatives worked on him quickly, combined with the blood he was still losing from being shot.
Within minutes Prussia felt too faint to move. All the while, Hitler watched his hopeless struggle against the blood loss and the chemicals with an emotionless gaze, although triumph shone somewhere in his eyes at one point, too.
"You're lucky I didn't do this sooner, you filth," the man told him. "I have so much reason to lock you up like the rest of your kind. You're weak. You're an albino. You're a homosexual."
"Bisexual, actually," Prussia laughed dryly, his voice croaking. "If you're going to accuse me of things, at least get your facts straight, nitwit."
Hitler ignored his comment. "And to top it all off," he sneered, "you're a traitor, too." The man got up from where he sat at his desk then, and he went to stand right beside Prussia just as the nation's consciousness began to slip away. "I know you killed Heydrich. For taking you off the medical staff, I presume? Don't worry, Prussia, you can work with doctors again." A smirk played on his lips then. "In fact, I know of one doctor who would love to have a chance to work with you."
Prussia felt sick with fear and shame and guilt. He should have made a plan after all. Given it more time. Had more patience. He should have thought this through. The one time he didn't think and plan ahead, and it had gone so extremely wrong so quickly.
What an idiot he could be sometimes.
Now he was doing the one thing he had never wanted to do: he was letting Germany down.
Just as his vision turned black and his consciousness faded, one last thing echoed in his foggy mind.
My precious little brother…
…I'm so sorry.
This had also been a plan for, like, a year now. The last part, anyway.
Prussia has a real knack for getting himself into trouble sometimes, doesn't he?
This was just plain stupid. But hey, people do crazy things when they're desperate, and if anyone is by now, it's Prussia. And Germany, too.
Aaanywaaay... It's kinda close to midnight and silly me has to work in the morning and go to school.
Silly me shouldn't be doing this right now.
So I'll keep it short here.
Thank you for reading once again, and I hope you liked it!
