Hiya everyone. back again!
APHALLTHEWAY and Ascella Noelle, thanks for the follows and favourite! TheBlueAcid, Tius, TheOldKaiser, pinkdoughnuts and MissiriKoharehn, thanks for the reviews!
About the snow white fairytale, no, that was a historical inconsistency right there, but I could not resist. But I wasn't far off -I read that the first version of the story appeared in 1812. And of course, as with many fairytales, the origins of the story are much older than that (but with many variations to it as well) so it is not completely out of place (only mostly).
Well, I hope you'll like this chapter, too!
It was 17 May 1742. Prussia was in Bohemia together with Fritz and his army. They were a force of 28,000 men, but they were about to face troops greater in numbers than themselves. But Prussia refused to let that discourage his men.
"These are Austrians we're about to face," he reminded them as he and Fritz rode horses at the front of their troops, able to overlook the majority of their soldiers like that. "These are the people from whom we've taken Silesia in 7 weeks' time! The army that was crushed by our might! Now we are here to protect what we made ours, and to aid our allies in their battle for Prague! We have signed an alliance with the French and the Bavarians, and I intend to keep the promises I made them. For without our loyalty, our courage and our reliability, we would not be Prussians!"
The men cheered at this, looking ready for battle once again. From somewhere at the front of the ranks of soldiers, Prussia caught the amused mutter of one of the men to another: "Well, if we're talking Prussian virtues now, I think someone has missed the fact that 'restraint' and 'modesty' are also on the list!"
Prussia could not suppress a chuckle of his own in spite of the slight insult, and he sought out the soldier who had spoken with his gaze. When he found him, he answered with a grin: "Well, I'm happy to see someone else here has remembered 'sincerity'. Still, I advise you to kindly shut up now. I am modest: I'm just awesome, not divine. How much more modest can a person get?"
Much to his joy, some other soldiers laughed softly now, too. It was good to see that they could enjoy themselves even right before a battle, even though many of them must know that this could well be their last day on Earth. Then he turned around and looked the other way, where he knew the Austrian troops were waiting. It was still early in the morning, but Prussia knew the battle was due to start any moment now. He himself was for once not part of the infantry, but instead of the newly-trained cavalry. It was the one part of the army that Frederick William I had neglected to train, and at the start of Prussia's campaign to capture Silesia, that had proved to be a problem. During a summer-long truce with Austria the year before, Fritz had made the cavalry go through some rigorous training, and Prussia had more faith in their strength than any other country's cavalry now. Still, fighting on horseback had been a while ago for him, and he wondered how this was going to go. It was also the first battle in which he would be fighting seperately from Fritz.
Then, mere minutes later, King Frederick II gave the order to attack.
First the Prussian troops used their cannons, after which the cavalry, led by Prussia and the elderly Field Marshal Buddenbrock advanced on Austrian troops. The moment they were within range, Prussia let go of the reins on his horse, clinging to the animal with his legs only. He grabbed the rifle he had tied to his back, aiming for the Austrian cavalry soldiers. His first shot missed, but he quickly reloaded and shot again, this time hitting a man right in the chest. Then, as his horse gallopped closer to the Austrian cavalry line, he tied his rifle to his back again, nearly losing his balance when his horse had to make an awkward jump, and he fell forward onto the animals neck. Clutching the reins again now to regain his balance, he gritted his teeth and looked up at his enemies again. By now, there was a full-out clash between Prussians and Austrians, and Prussia quickly recovered himself and grabbed the sword that hung heavily at his right hip. Clinging to the reins with his right hand, the kingdom dealt swift and effective blows with his left, and soon he began to notice that the Austrian cavalry was already beginning to fall back.
"Well done, men!" he called out to his soldiers, coughing briefly as he inhaled the dust that was being kicked up by the horses. The ground beneath their hooves was dry and sandy, and Prussia had trouble seeing further than a couple of metres ahead of him. But the dust would not stand between him and his victory. "We'll drive them right back all the way to Vienna at this rate!"
But soon the Austrian army proved him wrong: out of the dust came a second line of Austrain cavalry, taking Prussia at least by surprise. Their attack had been going so well, he hadn't expected such a formidable-looking resistance now. But once again, he refused to be taken aback by his enemies. Though his troops were now being driven back, he managed countless of expertly executed blows with his sword, and eventually even went as far as to let go of the reins on his horse again and fight with a sword in his left hand, and stabbing with the bayonet of his rifle in his right. But the dust that hung heavily in the air choked him, seemingly clogging up his lungs, and he felt dizzy with lack of oxygen after some time, and also, he realised, with loss of people. He tried to see through the dust and get a look at the town of Chotusitz, where Fritz was fighting with the infantry, but it hung in the air too thick to get a look at anything but horses and men, blood and steel.
Suddenly he felt a piercing, cold pain shoot through his right leg, and he yowled in pain while at the same time his horse let out a frantic, agonised whinny. Whipping his head around quickly, he saw a soldier beside him, with his sword stuck through Prussia's leg and in his horse's flank. Prussia cringed as the sword was pulled out of him again, but still managed to nearly chop the man's head off in retaliation, just before his horse collapsed beneath him. Prussia hit the ground with a loud thud, cringing for a moment as it sent even more pain through his torn-up leg. Then he scrambled up, and fell back down again almost immediately. Gritting his teeth, he watched blood pour out of the deep, mangled cut in his right thigh and he knew he couldn't stand on that anymore now if he wanted it to heal quickly. Then he heard the frantic, pained cries of his wounded horse beside him, and he heaved himself over to the animal's side, sitting down on his shoulder and grabbing the dying animal's head in both hands. With a single, powerful thrust, he snapped his neck, and slid off him again. "Sorry for that, buddy," he couged, laying down and keeping still. "But it's better than watching you bleed to death." Then he remained still like that, listening to the battlecries and thundering hooves around him with tightly shut eyes, trying not to choke on the dust. The best chance he and his army had now, was if he played dead for now until his leg had patched itself up to the point that he could stand on it again, and then he would join the battle once more, with or without horse.
Some time later, Prussia and some of his troops had managed to get themselves out of this hopeless battle, trying to get to the infantry in the nearby town instead to support them. The Prussian cavalry had suffered a great loss and had been driven back far by the Austrians, but the worst was that Prussia saw that the ground around them was so broken up, that there was no way he could lead his army across it to help out in Chotusitz. Some blood still dripped from the nearly-closed wound in his leg, and jolts of pain still shot through the limb every now and then. His lungs were ablaze with the amount of dust he had inhaled, but he refused to be beaten.
Looking in the direction of the town now, Prussia, to his shock, saw smoke rising up from it. His heartbeat picked up in sheer panic, and he felt chilled to the bone with dread. "Fritz is there," he choked out. "Shit! Fritz is there!"
Buddenbrock now looked at the town, too. "We cannot get there," he said solemnly. "Prussia, we have no choice but to continue fighting here. The infantry will have to help themselves out, we can't do it for them."
But Prussia gritted his teeth and shook his head. "A whole cavalry might not make it across ground like that," he grumbled angrily, "but one soldier can!" He was already turning his new horse, an animal that had fled but been caught again before it could get away, in the direction of the burning town.
The old human narrowed his eyes. "Flames cannot hurt you, can they, Prussia?" he inquired softly.
Except that I still have scars left by certain flames, the kingdom thought ruefully. "No. No, they can't kill me, nothing can but other immortals."
"Then go, get as many of our soldiers out of there as you can," Buddenbrock ordered him. "Now! The rest of you, prepare for another attack!"
Prussia did not need to hear any more than that -he rode away quickly, forcing his horse to ride with the speed of the wind.
As he reached the town, he saw the two armies still fighting amidst the fires. He halted his horse and reloaded his rifle for the gazillionth time that day, and realised he was nearly out of bullets. The few shots he could still fire had to count.
Soon he noticed, to his sheer relief, that his infantry was faring better than he had expected they would -which immediately told him the cavalry still wasn't, they had to be the source of the aches in his body by now. Seeing this filled Prussia with more hope, and he managed to hit enemy soldiers with all but one of his last bullets. Then he quickly rode his horse through the burning town, ignoring the pain in his leg and lungs as he searched for any wounded soldiers that he could already help to get away from the fires. He had half a mind to get off his horse and join the infantry now, but he knew his injured leg still wasn't nearly recovered enough to hold him that long.
He had never really busied himself with helping the wounded in the midst of battle; he'd always been too busy fighting, and would only see the damage of war after the fighting had ceased. It came as a shock to him how many lives could be saved if they received medical attention sooner. This is ridiculous! he thought as he half carried an injured soldier onto his horse. All the field medics in the world could not be enough to help everyone as soon as they should! Occupied with searching for any wounded soldiers, bringing them out of the burning town and heading back again, he hardly noticed when, around noon, the Austrians retreated. But this time, Prussia could not be triumphant over his victory. We may have won the battle, he thought vaguely as he headed back to camp. But who really lost today?
In the end, this battle proved to be the decisive one in the war for Silesia, which ended in a Prussian victory. A treaty between Austria and Prussia was finalised in Berlin in the summer of 1742, in which Prussia was granted all but a few of the Silesian territories he'd captured during his campaign. He would rather have gotten all, of course, but he contented himself with this. For now, anyway.
Between him and Austria, the day had been completely uneventful; they hadn't talked more than necessary and avoided each other after the negotiations were done. Austria just disappeared afterward, and Prussia didn't bother to ask where his cousin had gone off to. Probably back home to lick his wounds, the kingdom thought gleefully, still happy over his victory. He was almost just as happy over the fact that he now had time to go to university like he had wanted for so long. But before he did that, he decided to pay someone a visit, something he hadn't done in much too long due to the war.
The cemetery wasn't empty today, something he did prefer, but it had been so long now that he couldn't care less. He just couldn't wait anymore.
It was clear that no one had bothered to tend to Brandenburg's grave during the time he'd been away; there were weeds covering the ground and dark green ivy climbing up the stone. With a sigh, he knelt down and began picking the plants away one by one, talking as he did so. "Guess what, Brand?" he said softly, his lips twisted into a smile. "We won the war. It was nearly too easy, wasn't it? Austria didn't stand a chance." The Prussian chuckled a bit, flicking a spider off the gravestone; Brandenburg had never exactly been fond of spiders. "How do you like Spain and France so far? I think they're quite all right, myself. Not as awesome as I am, of course, nor as awesome as you. But they're funny, nice to hang out with... I like having them as my allies." Carefully he plucked a few weeds from the sandy ground now, and threw them aside once he got all of them out. Then he went on and tidied up the ground a little, all the while still talking. "Really, Brand, does no one ever bother to look after you but me? I was going to lock myself up in the university's library for the coming weeks, but if this is how things with you go when I'm not around, I think I'll have to come out once in a while after all. No problem, I'll have plenty of time for this now that I'm not fighting anymore."
He sat down once he was done, staring at the gravestone in silence. Then, after a little while, he sighd sadly. "Just a few days now, huh? Then it'll be 38 years ago..." he mumbled, shaking his head. "I can hardly believe that you've been gone for so long... You promised you would be here, even after 'death did us part', remember? Are you?" There was a lump in his throat now, but he swallowed it quickly and composed himself again. "I just want to see you again, Brand. I... I really miss you."
"This is almost laughable," suddenly came a familiar voice, sending a cold shiver down Prussia's spine, and the albino kingdom whipped around to face the person who had walked up behind him without him noticing. Austria stared down at him with an emotionless gaze, and blinked once before going on: "How you can be two such different people, Prussia, is beyond me. Just weeks ago you were slaying people just to gain some land, and now, here you are, and just look at you."
Prussia stiffened and gritted his teeth. How dare the bastard just waltz in here and disturb him, now of all times? Couldn't he just pay Brand a visit without being criticized?
But Austria didn't leave any time for Prussia to respond. "I really do not understand you, Prussia... not at all. Are you really just one person?" The contempt that had flashed in his eyes for a moment, was quickly replaced with deep confusion, and he lowered his voice just a little. "You can be such a brute, you revel in other people's pain and misery and you start fights for fun, it sometimes seems. And then the next moment you're... gentle, calm, loving almost." For a moment, he looked like he wanted to stop there, but he added one more sentence to it: "One moment you're nothing short of a monster, and the next you're so... human."
"Oh, really?" Prussia laughed sarcastically, getting to his feet now. "You mean, you think I might actually have feelings? Now where did you get that ridiculous notion? Surely I am the world's greatest evil -you must be mistaken, Austria, that must be it." He shook his head and chuckled, but angrily so. "Maybe you need other glasses, cousin o'mine. If you honestly thought you could see something even remotely human about me just now, then you must be blind. Because, obviously, I do not possess a heart." His mocking smile faded from his face, making place for a look of rage, mingled with the slightest bit of despair he let through for once. "I would almost agree with you on that one; my heart has been cut to pieces so many times, it does sometimes surprise even me that it's still there in the first place."
After this, the two cousins stared at each other in silence for a little while, and Prussia could just about slap himself. Why had he said something like that in front of Austria, of all people? But eventually, Austria just sighed. "Prussia, I didn't mean-"
"Yes, you did," Prussia interrupted him, gritting his teeth in sheer anger. "Don't give me that bullshit. What are you even here for? Did you follow me here?" He took a step closer to Austria, who nearly jumped at this and quickly stepped back. "Get out!"
The Austrian shook his head. "No, I... I didn't come here for you," he replied softly, holding up a single flower, a beautiful lily with large, pure white petals. He didn't say any more than that, but Prussia understood. Part of him wanted to kick his enemy off this cemetery, kick him all the way back to Vienna if need be, but another part of him just could not stop him from simply paying his respects to Brandenburg. So, after long hesitation, he stepped aside and let Austria through, though he kept a close eye on him now. But Austria did nothing but kneel down, carefully place the flower on Brand's grave, mumble a few words to her and get up again. The two still didn't say a word as they stared at each other one last moment, then Austria turned around and walked away without looking back. Prussia stared at him until he was off the cemetery, then turned back to the grave.
It did look better with a flower on it...
A year passed, and Prussia had time to recover from the losses he'd suffered in the years of war. Austria, still at war with France, Spain, Bavaria, Saxony and others, could not, much to the Prussian's delight.
The kingdom spent most of that year studying, exactly as he had wanted to. He had decided to read as much as he could on how he could best help his people in the next war, because if there was one thing he knew, it was that wars would never be out of this world. Humans would fight for as long as they existed, and it was his duty, not just to fight by their sides, but to help them too.
In the early months of 1743 he also had a chance to practise what he had read up on all those months, when he decided to pay France and Spain a visit.
"Ow!" Spain complained, nearly jumping as the needle slid into his skin once more.
Prussia rolled his eyes. "Sit still, would you? It wouldn't hurt nearly as much if only you stopped squirming."
But the Spaniard was glaring at him through the corners of his eyes now, and huffed. "Oh, I'm sorry that I have quite the deep cut in my shoulder, and you're continuously sticking a needle into it!" The man cringed when Prussia didn't pay any mind to his protest, and just continued doing his job for now.
Prussia nearly wanted to slap him for it. "Don't be such a baby," he grumbled, though he continued being as gentle as he could as he stitched the older man's wound. "You're the one who didn't want even a single sip of whiskey; of course it hurts more if you don't use any anaesthetic."
"We don't have enough of the stuff, and the humans need it more than I do," Spain only protested, sighing. "Though, to be fair... a wound inflicted by England..."
"That is indeed exactly the same as a wound inflicted on a human body," Prussia just agreed, grinning when France already walked up with a bottle of the alcoholic drink. "So, you willing to drink something, now? This is only the first of several stitches I need to do, you know. He beat you up good, that Englishman."
Spain shook his head, but when Prussia stuck the needle into his skin with a little bit more force than before -on purpose, naturally- he gladly grabbed the whiskey and took a swig of it. "Go on, then," he grumbled to Prussia, occassionally sipping his whiskey again before telling France to just bring it back to the infirmary, where it was needed more than it was here.
When France came back, the Prussian was already done stitching up the largest cut, and was nearly done with one of the four smaller ones, too. The blond nation inspected his younger friend's handiwork for a moment, then made an impressed noise. "Looks pretty neat, actually," he commented just as Prussia finished up the second stitch. "You've done this before, haven't you?"
"Actually," Prussia admitted, cleaning his needle in a bowl of cold water before going on to the next cut. "No, this would be the first time. I have read about it a lot, though, and also watched it two or three times. But this is the first time I've done any stitches myself..." He patted Spain on his good shoulder when the nation stiffened when he heard this, telling him to relax again.
"You're leaving my shoulder in one piece, aren't you?" Spain asked, concerned now, craning his neck to see what Prussia was doing. Again, he got pushed back into a normal position by the albino, who simply answered, annoyed now, that he was in fact making sure he would be in one piece again by the time he was done.
"Don't worry, mon ami," France reassured his neighbouring country, giving him a pat on his good shoulder. "It seems our little friend has a hidden talent for these things. He's doing it as well as any nurse would -maybe not as good as an actual doctor yet, but at this rate, he will certainly reach that point, too."
"I know," Prussia said with a smirk. "Praise me as much as you want; my stitching skills are nearly as awesome as I am!" He was fairly surprised about it himself, actually, but most of all he was proud of his handiwork on Spain's skin and overjoyed. At this rate, whenever he was at war with another country, he could take up the role of a soldier as well as that of a field medic! And the more lives he could save, the more he would keep up his own strength as well, which in turn meant he could continue doing both these jobs even longer.
When he was done, he quickly brought his needle and thread back to the infirmary, then lent a hand there, too. It didn't surprise him that Spain hadn't wanted to be treated in the infirmary; the injured, dying men there were an overwhelming sight, and Prussia felt sick as he worked. But it also made him work harder.
After some time, when there wasn't much to do anymore, he went back to France and Spain, explaining to them what he'd been doing when they asked. France laughed at this. "Prussia, mon ami, you're wasting your skills as a soldier! I think, in your next war, you should just keep yourself busy with healing rather than hurting."
But Prussia shook his head, feeling tired after all the work he'd done. It would probably be some time before he would be used to being among so many badly injured people for so long. "I know now that I could be as awesome a doctor as I am anything else," he boasted with a wide grin. "But, France, the thing I'm most awesome at, is being a soldier. That's what I've been doing all my life, and I will probably continue to do so for the rest of it, too." France then got up, and Prussia immediately noticed something off about the way he walked. "Sit down!" he ordered him immediately, getting to his feet again. "France, I mean it. Sit down right now -you're limping, you idiot."
France stared at him wide-eyed, startled. "I-it's just a sprained ankle," he stammered. "It's nothing bad, really."
Prussia sighed. "Sit down first, let me take a quick look, and then we'll decide if it's 'nothing bad', you hear me?" He walked over to France and pushed him down, after which France decided to give up his protests and gingerly took off his left boot. Prussia scowled when he saw red, swollen skin, and he didn't even need to touch it to know it was probably warm as well. "It's because you haven't given it any rest that it hasn't healed yet," he told France matter-of-factly. "You do know that, don't you?"
France huffed and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, sure I know that. But what choice do I have? There's a lot of work to do around here." He then tried to put on his boot again, but now that it had gotten the space to swell, he couldn't fit his ankle back in without it hurting really bad. He sighed and threw it aside. "You did this on purpose," he accused Prussia, who sat staring at him with a wide and mischievous grin.
Prussia then just shrugged. "Well, it needed that space. Trust me, it will probably heal a lot quicker like this, also since I don't see you walking around this fortress barefooted; you can thank me in the morning." He then broke off in a yawn, and he stretched his back where he sat.
At this, Spain and France exchanged an amused glance. "Well," Spain began slowly, getting to his feet, at which Prussia half panicked and told him to be careful; he didn't want to bust the stitches. Spain ignored him. "Whatever. You, Prussia, need to be checked, too." Prussia stared at him, confused, but Spain already turned to France now, smirking. "Well, France? What's the diagnosis?"
Playing along, France got to his feet, too, putting less pressure on his sprained ankle so as to not anger the new doctor in their little trio. "Hm, well..." he mused, tapping his chin as if he was thinking really hard just then. "Tired gaze, yawning, and he's not even laughing at this ridiculous play we're putting up. I say they're all clear symptoms of exhaustion."
Spain nodded very seriously. "You're right, I think so, too. What treatment do we give him? I think a good night's sleep might be effective."
France nodded now, too. "Yes, yes, brilliant idea! We need to get him to bed right away." Then, before Prussia could protest, the two were carrying him -Spain only using his good arm, naturally- and tossed him onto a bed, where he landed with a loud, dull thud. France then held him down as Spain pulled a sheet over him.
Prussia stopped squirming, but still glared at them both. They only laughed, grinning at him with twinkling eyes as they said simultaneously: "You can thank us in the morning!" Then the two nations walked off, and Prussia called after them, agitated.
"That is not funny, you two!" he told them through gritted teeth. "I am not a little kid, dammit!"
The only response he got was laughter from the both of them, fading as they walked down the hallway, until he couldn't hear them anymore. And then the Prussian just smiled. He had managed to do a lot of useful things today, and as always, any interaction with his two friends was good interaction. He was pleased after today, very much so. And, he had to admit, France and Spain had been right, he really was quite tired. "They could've gone over it differently, though..." he mumbled to himself, rolling over onto his side and closing his eyes.
Then he realised France was walking around the fortress barefooted right now. On a badly sprained ankle.
"Damn bastard."
Prussia was reading a book as he walked through the halls of the palace near Berlin, where he still sometimes spent time instead of being in Konigs-Wusterhausen or with Fritz. Every few seconds he would glance up from the pages just to check his direction and to make sure he wasn't going to walk into something or someone, then continued reading. It was a book written by Voltaire, and though he really didn't like Fritz's dear friend so much, he did appreciate the French philosopher's writing. He simply hid the books when Fritz or Voltaire himself were anywere near him, so that they wouldn't know he secretly loved them. And, whenever Voltaire was around, he also pretended his French wasn't quite what it used to be, just so that he wouldn't have to hold a conversation with him.
But his books were awesome.
Suddenly he heard a piano when he turned into another corridor, and he looked up, confused. The only piano here was in the library. Since it had belonged to Brand, he had specifically forbidden everyone to play so much as a note on it.
Did Austria break in? he thought angrily, closing his book and moving toward the library with quick paces. Is that four-eyed bastard back in Berlin, in my home, playing BRAND's piano?! But then, just when he reached the door and wanted to open it, he halted. Whoever it was had just missed a note.
Austria never missed a note.
No human who worked or lived here was stupid enough to disobey Prussia when it came to Brandenburg's belongings. Even her old vase was still there, without a single scratch on its porcelain surface. So who would be stupid enough to break in and break his rules? Tensing his muscles, ready for a fight if necessary, he opened the door.
And that stopped his heart and robbed him of his breath.
Sitting there, playing the piano with slender, quick fingers but without the expertise Prussia was used to seeing from Austria, was Brandenburg herself, blue eyes twinkling as she played her music. He stood staring for God knows how long, until the piece was finished and Brandenburg looked up at him, smiling warmly.
"Well, silly?" she said with a soft, good humoured giggle. "Are you going to just stand there? Sit down, enjoy the sound. I see you already have a book ready," she added, nodding to the book he was holding, which then slipped from his grip and dropped to the floor. Brand just stared at it for a moment, then laughed again. "Or not."
Then, in a heartbeat, Prussia could move again, and he made a dash for her. But just before he could jump toward her and hold her in the death-grip hug he wanted to hold her in, he stopped himself. Something didn't feel right. Something told him, screamed at him, that he shouldn't touch her. That he couldn't touch her.
Brandenburg noticed these thoughts, and she sighed, the twinkle in her eyes fading just the slightest. "You said you missed me," she whispered, a hint of sadness in her voice. "That you wanted to see me. I'm sorry that you've had to wonder for 39 years if I had kept my promise..." The margraviate smiled again now, all the sadness fading from both her eyes and her voice, as she added: "But I have. Every hour of every day and every night.
Overjoyed as he still was to see her, these words shot through him like lightning, and some of his joy evaporated in the heat of it. "I'm dreaming," he concluded softly, "aren't I?"
Brandenburg nodded silently.
"But if this is a dream," Prussia then went on to ask, "why can't I touch you? Because I don't know why, but I just know that I really, really shouldn't. Why is that?" He sat down beside her now, after she shoved aside to make space for him next to her on the little piano seat.
She sighed. "Those are the rules. You and I don't exist in the same world, Prussia. It's rare for those worlds to blur enough that one can visit the other. They won't ever get mixed, though. You're alive, and I'm not, and those who are dead aren't allowed to mingle with the living. It is rare for us to be allowed to, ehm... 'visit', so to say."
"Allowed?" Prussia then inquired, confused. "By whom?" Then a split second later, he realised, and shook his head. "No, never mind. You mean God, don't you?"
Brandenburg chuckled and shook her head. "You're wrong. And you're right. Everyone has a different name for 'it', so I can't tell you if you're right or not. Let's just assume both are true." Then she looked at the book Prussia had dropped earlier, and grinned. "But you've been reading too many of those books, Prussia. I'm not here to discuss philosphy with you -I'm here for whatever you want right now."
He smiled now, too, then snickered. "And what if philosophy is what I want?" he quipped, then shook his head. He thought for a moment, but all that he could think of right now was that he just wanted to be with her. This was enough for him. As if she could read his thoughts, Brandenburg nodded and silently began playing the piano again, and Prussia just listened, looking at her face and the movement of her hands as she did so. How he had missed this sight. It was their favourite way to spend their free time in the afternoons; her playing the piano and him reading a book. But if he continued reading now, he wouldn't be focussed on her enough, so he didn't.
But eventually questions tumbled from his lips, anyway. "I know that she was reborn," he stammered. "But... but is Bavaria there, too?" Brandenburg nodded once again, but remained silent. Prussia's heart skipped a beat. So there was an incarnation of her around who remembered being killed by Prussia... he could only hope that different incarnations really couldn't share memories. He hadn't for sure, but still. "Does she... does she know how sorry I am?"
"She does," Brand answered, looking at him sadly. "Everyone does. It took her a while to forgive you, but she understands why you did it. She has always doubted that you even loved me, you know, so to know that you went this far out of love and grief, she... she currently has mixed feelings about it. But she's not angry." Then she smiled, though still a little sadly so. "And neither am I." Then the sadness was replaced by warmth once again, and also mischief. With a smirk, she added: "Don't worry, I'm not angry about Fritz, either!"
Prussia could only chuckle. "Oh, good! Because that really had me worried!" Then he shook his head again, falling silent and instead listening to Brandenburg as she finished playing yet another piece.
"We're all watching, you know," she said eventually, rather out of the blue, and Prussia stared at her, somewhat startled by that. But Brandenburg just went on. "Previous incarnations of those who are alive, countries who no longer exist... I know from what you've told me once or twice that you think Germania never cared about you, but he does. He has actually taken a very special interest in you; says you will be able to achieve great things."
That's what Holy Rome once told me, too, Prussia recalled with a shock. Maybe it's true, then...
"The previous Prussia, well... Let's just say she's happy that her name is at least prominently on the map, but she would've prefered staying Baltic. But she's keeping an eye on you, too." She then looked at him again, her gaze overflowing with warmth. "What I'm saying is, I know you often feel like you're all alone, like no one cares about you. But we care, all of us, and we make sure you're never alone, even if you do not always notice it."
Prussia could only smile at this, even though he was getting slightly dizzy now. "Thank you." And then the dizziness grew worse, and the world around him faded into black.
"What do you think, dr France? Has our treatment helped?"
"Only one way to find out -Prussia! C'mon, petit garcon, time to wake up!"
Prussia huffed angrily and shifted, turning his back to the two voices. When they told him to wake up yet again, he just grumbled. "No. No, don'wanna." That turned out to be a mistake, because then, France and Spain decided to take more drastic measures to get him out of bed -namely, pulling him out of bed and onto the floor. There, Prussia just groaned for a second, then opened his eyes, staring right into the grinning faces of France and Spain. "I really still hate you both," he muttered darkly, sitting up. "Just in the middle of this awesome dream, too..."
"Ah, so you had a good night?" Spain concluded happilly, grinning wider.
Prussia nodded, still too much asleep to be able to think about keeping up appearances and having a reputation to think about. "The best. I was just having this awesome dream -I saw Brand again, and we talked a bit and..." Then he realised what he was saying, and he lied quickly: "And of course, I kicked Austria's ass again in that dream, I was absolutely awesome. That's nothing new, I know, but it was still awesome."
France and Spain just looked at each other with wide smirks. "Sure it was," France then mumbled, patting Prussia on the head. "Sorry for waking you in the middle of it. But we had to check if our 'treatment' yesterday evening was effective-"
"Which, obviously, it was," Spain added quickly. "You look wide-awake again! Which is good, because we, eh... kinda need your help."
"My help?" the Prussian then asked softly, getting to his feet and sitting down again on the edge of his bed. "What do you need my awesomeness for now?"
"Our dear friend Tomato here busted a stitch this morning."
Prussia only laughed in response.
I needed to write that dream. I needed to.
Also, I really do see Prussia as the type of person to be a little overprotective of those he cares about when they're injured or something similar, but as we all know by now, he doesn't care if he's hurt himself. He just keeps going 'til he drops dead (or close to it, anyway). So naturally he would tell France to sit down when he has only sprained an ankle, and then he gets his leg impaled on a sword and he's back on a horse within minutes.
Real smart.
Ah well. Thanks for reading once again, and I hope y'all liked it!