All righty, first off as always: GraceDrawTheCat, fanais, catsrulegirl, pinkdoughnuts, Abc and TheBlueAcid, thanks for the follows, favourites and reviews!

Be prepared for a not-so lighthearted chapter. Like, I just realised that there is no lightheartedness in this chapter at all. None.

Great to realise that when you've already finished the chapter. Ah well, you've all come this far in the story, it's not like it hasn't been this way before.

26 May 1745

I swear, soon, I will be able to crush Austria completely, and I'll take Saxony -that damn traitor- down with him. Why can't they just accept that I have won Silesia in a fair fight? Why would they try to get it back again like this? And I still do not understand how Saxony was my ally just years ago, and now, in this second war for Silesia, he's my enemy.
Hungary, too, has been threatening me, saying that if I do not give back 'Austria's Silesia', she will make me pay for it.
Let her try.

No one can beat the mighty Kingdom of Prussia! If they don't see that yet, then they're all blind. All of them.

I will win again. I must.

Prussia was right; just days later, on 4 June 1745, he faced Austria and Saxony in battle. He didn't know if Saxony was there, too, but he had glimpsed Austria more than once, and the moment he could, he broke away from the infantry and went in search of his cousin. He wouldn't kill Austria, that was a plan he'd left behind him now a while ago. He had killed an immortal once and he would never do it again. But crushing someone could have different meanings. And he had plans.
He slashed his way through the ranks of soldiers without any difficulty, avoiding any cuts deeper than an inch, which healed before they could even begin to be considered troublesome. The bullets weren't as easy to dodge, but more scarce. He was ignoring orders and ignoring the plans, but the entire battlefield here near Striegau and Hohenfriedberg was complete chaos. No one would pay any attention to a single soldier ignoring orders. And he knew, he just knew, that if he could deal a decisive blow to Austria himself, the battle would easily be won, and so would the entire war. He didn't want to fight, really, it surprised himself more than anyone else. He had just won the Silesian War, he was recovering from the many battles, he was spending his days with either Fritz or books or going on visits to his old allies on the battlefield like he had in 1743, and he was happy like that. So why did Austria have to end his little period of happiness, the first long one he'd had in decades, by trying to take back Silesia? Well, you're not going to get it back, he wanted to tell his cousin, who was probably desperate due to this war. It's mine now, I earned it!
And that was the only reason he wanted to take down Austria himself now, to secure the land he'd earned fair and square in war, to end this as quickly as possible and go back to what he loved doing these days. He had felt more like himself than he had in many years, and he wanted it back, no matter what it took.
He went up a hill, breaking away from the ranks of soldiers, both his own and his enemies', and tried to overlook the battlefield from there, searching for Austria. It took him a little while, but eventually he spotted him, riding a horse to the back of his army. Prussia knew that his sissy cousin wasn't a coward, as much as he might look like one at times, so he could only imagine him leaving the battle to be so that he could discuss tactics with the other commanders. But how to get there? He stood still for a moment, thinking. When an idea popped into his mind, he was disgusted by it at first, but he knew it was his best chance. Quickly he took off his dark blue military coat and ran down the hill again, searching for the nearest dead Austrian. When he found one with about the same size as him, he took his white coat from him and put that on, then looking around to find something to cover up his head with. If he could hide his white hair, that would be enough -no one looked at another's eyes long enough to notice his were red. That was the only thing about his albinism now that still annoyed him; he stood out too much. He already knew that he would never be able to do any infiltration work, but he could at least give it a damn good try now.

Once he was dressed as an Austrian soldier, he faced a lot less difficulty moving to the back of their troops, and he could only hope Austria was still where he had spotted him. Once he broke free from the mass of battling humans, he had the luck that there were soldiers deserting, so he didn't stand out much among them. He went in a straight line to where he had seen Austria go to, forcing his tired legs to keep on running. He could not give up on this now. And if Austria wasn't there, then at least he knew he had been awesome enough to try.
Eventually he began to pick up voices, faint and in the distance at first, but gradually growing louder as he got closer. And Austria's voice was among them. At this, the Prussian grinned, and as he approached the group of men, he drew his sword. It was the sound of sliding metal that alarmed them all, but by the time they looked at Prussia, shocked to see him there, the kingdom already had his sword pointed at his cousin's neck.
"Prussia!" the Austrian gasped, taking a startled step back. "What is-? What do you think you're doing?"
Prussia just shrugged. "Winning the war, is it that hard to imagine?" He then glanced around with glinting red eyes, concluding that his brother wasn't there. "Now where's Saxony, huh? He not here to help support you and his army?" Austria didn't answer, but a knowing look appeared in the Archduchy's eyes, and he grinned just the slightest, infuriating Prussia. "Well?" the kingdom demanded angrily. "If it's so funny, why not let me join in the fun, huh? Where is Saxony?!"
This time it was Austria who shrugged. "Maybe he's out fighting Spain or France, I don't know. We do keep track, but I have no idea what exactly the Enlish army is doing right now."
Prussia couldn't breathe for a moment after this, his mind reeling with confusion. "The.. the English army?" he echoed, then he shook his head angrily. "That makes no sense, you moron! Has the war been getting to your head? When Fritz told me our enemies were sure to make some stupid mistakes, I hadn't thought that applied to you as well. You're such an idiot, Austria, honestly."
"I don't know exactly what you're saying," another voice then said behind him, in bad, accented French, and Prussia felt a sword slide against his throat. "But I'm right to conclude you don't have a clue what's going on, right?" Then an arm grabbed him from behind, and he was pulled back, bumping into someone and being held tightly against that person's body, keeping him from moving. He wanted to struggle, but the sword was still pressed against his throat, and he had the nagging feeling he knew this voice and the accent in which it spoke French. Craning his neck to look over his shoulder, he saw England, who was grinning at him with emerald eyes twinkling with joy. "Boo," he said flatly when he saw Prussia's stunned, confused stare. "Didn't expect to see me, did you now?"
Prussia, unable to breathe in pure confusion once again, stared at England for a moment longer then looked back at Austria again. "What the hell is this joke? What is England doing here?"
Austria chuckled, clearly happy to see his plans -whatever they had been- had managed to confuse Prussia so much. "We figured that, if we sent countries out into battle with their own soldiers, then a loss against your army would cripple them for the duration of said battle. You must know how difficult it is to keep fighting after you've lost so many people." He looked at England then, only brielfy nodding to him before looking back at Prussia. "But since the English army isn't fighting at the moment, England is a strong, nearly unbeatable asset to my troops here, and as is Saxony to England's."
When the explanation was finished, Prussia was silent for a moment longer. Then, out of the blue, he burst out in laughter. "Country-swap?" he choked out between his laughter. "Seriously now, you think that's going to beat me?" He silenced himself again and stared Prussia in the eyes with a wide smirk etched on his face. "Come now, Austria, do you really think you can afford underestimating me like that? You've seen what I'm capable of. And besides, I just told you that I came here with the intention to win." His smirk grew wider yet, and a dark, dangerous light appeared in his eyes as he added: "And you know what? Lately, the tides have been turning to my favour; I'm the one who gets what he wants now!"
"We know you, Prussia," England then hissed into his ear, pressing the cold blade of his sword just a little closer to Prussia's neck. He ignored the Prussian's threats completely, and the kingdom realised England still didn't speak a word German. Just wonderful, now he would have to threaten them in multiple languages. "We know very well that you're a strategical genius; we've adapted to that."
"Well," Prussia laughed, almost flattered by the nation's words. "I'm glad that finally someone acknowledges my awesome wits. But do you really think you can outsmart me? We'll see about that, Tea-sucker!" Then, without any warning, he let himself drop backwards, pushing England to the ground with his weight. As they fell, he grabbed England's swordhand with his own and simply tugged at it; the unexpected fall combined with the little amount of strength Prussia put into pulling his hand away from his neck made England let go almost instantly. A split second later, the two countries lay on the ground, Prussia on top of England and pressing heavily onto his chest, and the sword lay at a safe distance from the albino's neck. He twisted around, swift as a snake, so that he faced the nation, who was still recovering from the fall and having Prussia land on top of him. The younger kingdom then jumped to his feet, but landed a punch in England's face as he did so. Then, Prussia glanced over his shoulder. His sword lay on the grass just a few feet away from him -closer to Austria than himself. He judged the distance in a split second, saw Austria lunging at him with his own sword, then dived; he managed to duck under Austria's arm, just barely missing the sharp sword, then barged into his cousin's abdomen, practically carrying him off his feet and throwing him away. Austria landed on his feet, but staggered for a moment just long enough for Prussia to grab his own weapon. By then, England had gotten to his feet again, too.
But the two older countries seemed to realise by now that they had a worthy opponent. And these first attacks he had been unarmed; England eyed the sword in Prussia's hand almost fearfully. But then he grinned. "It seems like we're fighting a lefty, Austria," he said to his ally. "Advantages and disadvantages for us there. Let's make use of the former and avoid the latter."
To mock his enemy, Prussia tossed his sword in the air and caught it with his right hand. "Too bad," he jeered. "I've trained myself to be ambidextrous in combat. Just to give you a heads-up; this wouldn't be a fair fight otherwise, would it? Say goodbye to your 'advantages'." Then he charged forward, knocking Austria aside with his sword before tossing it back to his left hand and blocking an attack from England.
He grinned almost animalistically. "Told you." Then he kicked his opponent in the stomach, and England doubled over, stumbling backward as he gritted his teeth in pain.
Meanwhile, Prussia had already adjusted his entire plan: first he had to find a way to be rid of England constantly attacking him whenever he got close to Austria, then he would go for his cousin and do what he came here to do. He would, one way or the other, find a way to get Austria out of this war. And with Austria gone, the war couldn't last much longer.
So, after kicking Austria out of his way once again (it was almost too easy), he dealt England a quick series of blows that were meant to confuse him, mainly because he would be switching hands every few seconds. And after some time, it seemed to work. He saw England's bright coloured eyes dart from one side to the other, trying to follow Prussia's movements but failing by now. Then, the moment he saw an opening in the kingdom's defenses, Prussia knocked the flat side of his sword down on England's arm, and he felt bone crack with the force of it. Instantly, England let go of his own sword, and Prussia caught it effortlessly. A second later, he stood with both swords in his grasp, crossed, and both grazing the soft skin on England's neck. The old country just stood there, staring wide-eyed at the sword that had been in his own grasp just seconds before and was now threatening to slit his throat if he so much as moved.
"Checkmate," Prussia choked out; he was gasping for breath by now, but it was a mere nuisance that he could overlook. He wasn't done yet.
He then turned to look at Austria, who was staring at him with the same astonished expression England was, and so were the humans there; those decided to be wise and stay out of this fight. "Why don't you just make this easier for the both of us," Prussia taunted, "and stab yourself already?" He gave Austria a second to respond, and when the archduchy didn't, he launched a full-out attack on him: he slashed, stabbed and thrust with the two swords he now held, injuring Austria but not badly so. He was playing with him; the real fight would come once he got his cousin down on his knees.
That moment came sooner than he had thought.
Austria wasn't exactly on his knees, but that was all the better. Prussia had kicked him against his hip, and right now he half sat on the ground, just about scrambling up again. Prussia didn't give him that chance. Instead, he lashed out like lightning, stomping down on Austria's left leg, and felt bone snap and crunch beneath his feet. Austria howled in pain at this, then gritted his teeth and glared up at Prussia, but only for a second; that was when Prussia did the same to his right leg, also. The Austrian let out another cry of pain, then, as he sat trembling, seemed to will Prussia to drop dead right where he stood with his gaze. Dark blue eyes were ablaze with anger, and meeting them were an emotionless red pair.
Prussia knelt down in front of Austria, patting his head. "Now you won't be fighting me anymore, will you?" he asked almost sweetly. He glanced at his cousin's broken legs then, and added softly to him: "I think it might be a while before you even walk again."
Austria was still glaring murderously at him, but it seemed like the blazing pain in his crushed legs had robbed him of his voice completely. Prussia just smiled at him, innocently as if nothing had happened. "Well, good luck anyway, cousin o'mine!" He then gave Austria a quick peck on the forehead, ruffled his hair a bit and got to his feet again, turning around to leave. But before he did so, he glanced at the humans, who were all staring at him in complete horror, and then at England, who had his shocked gaze fixed on Austria. The young man looked ghastly pale, and it wouldn't surprise Prussia if he would collapse right then and there; this had clearly been the complete opposite of what he had been expecting.
"Thanks, England!" he called to the Briton, grinning. "It was fun!"
And then he left, silent, not looking back. But his stomach twisted at what he had just done.
Those fractures will heal. They should heal eventually. I did not cripple my cousin, I didn't!
He kept on telling himself that all the way back to the battlefield, and during the rest of the battle as well; this was the first time that he could not shake off memories by fighting. Austria's agonised screams haunted him more than he thought they would.
It was all for a good cause...

That evening was the first time ever that Fritz had hit Prussia. When he heard what his kingdom had done, the man had been outraged, and righteously so according to Prussia himself. But the country did the same he had done all day; he told himself that he had done it with good reason, the best reason even -he had done it to put an end to a war, after all- and that Austria's legs would heal, even if it took time. The bones should be set again now, he thought vaguely after he had locked himself in his office in the nearby fortress that evening. He probably won't be allowed to move them for a few weeks... but once the bones are all healed again, he'll be fine. And by then, if everything went according to plan, the war would be over. Still, he felt sick when he remembered the few bones he had broken and had needed to be set again over the centuries: both hurt equally, almost, and he did feel bad for Austria.
Which was strange, because he still hated his cousin with a passion. A burning, blazing passion like none he had ever felt before. So how come he felt bad about hurting him like this?
Well, it was only human to think like that. Even though I'm not human.
By the time night fell and the moon had already travelled so far across the sky that he knew it was way past midnight, the memories of his actions the day before still haunted him, and though he was tired, he couldn't even think about sleep. So for the tenth time that night, he got up out of bed after another hopeless attempt to rest, lit a candle on his desk and grabbed paper, a quill and ink.

27 May 1745

Austria,

I would like to offer you my sincerest apologies for the injuries and without a doubt unbearable pain I inflicted upon you yesterday. I did so for reasons I will not even begin to explain, since I know you will never accept them. Nor will you accept my apology, I know. I sure wouldn't, so I don't blame you.
But please, stop this war. You know who will win, and you know you're only postponing the inevitable. Silesia is mine now; there was no unfairness in how I obtained it, and fighting to regain it so quickly after you've lost it is just a sign of you being a poor loser.
Now don't get me wrong on that one -I'm sure that must've come out more bluntly than I had intended. But facts are facts, Austria, and you're hurting me and yourself more than is necessary.
You were right about one thing, I must add: doing a country-swap like England did with Saxony is a smart move. Shame it got you nowhere in the end. It came as a great surprise to me, I must admit.
You will probably not believe me, and again, I do not blame you in the slightest, but I wish you a swift recovery. I swear to God, I do.
You may curse me all you want; my soul is rotten already, anyway, a few more curses and condemnations won't affect me too badly, I'm sure.

-Prussia

He stared at the letter after he had written it for what seemed like quite a while. Had he seriously just written all that? He read it over and over again, then sighed and shook his head, laying it aside for now. He would decide in the morning whether or not he would send it.
Still, sleep did not come easy.

The year passed, more battles were fought and won, and eventually, a treaty came to end it. It was 25 December 1745, and Prussia, Austria and Saxony were in the Saxon city of Dresden, and though they did not participate in the signing of the treaty, the two parties' respective allies were there, too, to help support their allies' rights in negotiations -which in turn would benefit them as well, naturally.
Prussia didn't know what bothered him more: the pure hatred and loathing that seemed to be radiating from Hungary whenever they were close to each other, or the difficulty with which Austria walked now. His cousin used two canes to support himself with as he walked, and sitting seemed to be the only thing he could keep up long. But it had been worse, of course. Austria had been confined to his bed and then a wheelchair for months. Prussia had never sent him his letter, but now he wished he had. It didn't make anything better, of course nothing would. But he wanted Austria to know that he was sorry for what he had done to him, for once in his life.
But he could never say it out loud.
Could he?

"Go talk to him," France practically ordered Prussia the moment the meeting was over, and they watched Austria, Saxony and Hungary leave the conference room. "Right now."
Before Prussia could answer, Spain pushed him off his chair and to his feet, frowning as he looked at his younger friend. "And apologise," he added to France's words, not a single trace of his usual joy left anywhere in his face or voice. "What you did was the polar opposite of awesome!"
Prussia gritted his teeth, feeling tense all over. "I know, I know," he grumbled, only glancing at his friends over his shoulder. "Chill a bit, both of you; I was going to do so, anyway."
"Were you?"
Prussia didn't answer that question and just went off quickly, not quite running but certainly walking fast to catch up to the three countries -but with Austria in this state, that wasn't difficult. He still hesitated when he finally caught up to them, but eventually forced himself to just call out to them. All three countries stopped walking and turned around at the same time. Saxony's gaze only barely betrayed his contempt, Hungary's was giving off the same hateful vibes as earlier, but Austria's was completely blank. It nearly made the Prussian flinch.
But it didn't stop him. Swallowing the nervous lump in his throat, he began softly: "Hey, er, I... well..."
"What do you want?" Hungary snapped, glaring murderously at him. "Haven't you caused enough trouble yet?" Prussia nearly jumped at her tone, she was that scary for just a moment. From the corners of his eyes, Prussia saw something flash in Saxony's eyes when the older country looked at them, and his stomach twisted when he realised Saxony had been there when he'd... when he'd had his 'little breakdown', as he had come to call it. Don't comment on it now, please...!
But the Saxon didn't. Instead, he turned around, saying he would leave them to it for now; this probably wasn't his business to begin with.
Hungary didn't even look up when her ally said this. She just took a step closer to Prussia, threateningly. "We're going to get back at you for this, you monster," she said, hissed almost, and she even drew her lips back a little like a cat would before lashing out with claws and teeth. "If you do not give Silesia back to its rightfull owner, we will take it, and we'll take all the rest you've established for yourself along with it! Say goodbye to your new status, Prussia; you won't have it for long."
It wasn't so much her words, but instead her voice which seemed to cut into Prussia's heart. He felt a sudden stab of cold agony explode in his chest, and he stood rigid for a moment. Much to his surprise, Hungary's face contorted in utter horror, and Austria followed suit a split second later. The freezing pain in Prussia's chest stopped him from breathing, the cold seemingly creeping into his lungs, making him cough barely more than a second after it had appeared.
Droplets of blood splattered against Hungary's horrified face.
Confused and startled out of his skin by this, Prussia stared down, only to see the bloodied end of a sword sticking out of his chest. A heartbeat later, he heard a voice hiss into his ear: "You've caused enough suffering and misery in this world, you devil!" Then the sword was pulled back, sliding out of his body again, and blood came spurting out of his wound. It rose like bile in his throat, making him cough again, the thick liquid gushing over his lips.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the cold, stone floor. As he did so, he heard a voice call his name, sounding as horrified as Austria and Hungary had looked just a moment ago, but he couldn't tell whose voice it was. His ears were ringing and his mind buzzing, the noise screaming into his ears louder than anything else, and it screamed of only one thing: pain.
Still, Prussia rolled himself over onto his back just two seconds later, gazing up. His mind could just about comprehend that he was looking at a human, which somehow eased his panic at this sudden and grave injury, but only for a very brief moment. Barely 10 seconds had passed since he'd been stabbed, when he realised he couldn't breathe. No matter what he tried, it was impossible to draw in air.
What happened after that was a blur to Prussia. As he lay, struggling in vain to breathe but only coughing up more of his precious life force in the progress, he heard voices, footsteps, utter panic around him. He could make out some words, but not who spoke them.
"What have you done?!"
"I was merely trying to-!"
"Prussia, by God, hang on now!"
"I'll get help. I-I'll get help right away!"
The first thing he could really process and comprehend again came moments later, when he saw Austria kneel down in front of him. His dark blue eyes were still expressionless as he reached out and laid a hand on Prussia's head. He didn't know what exactly, but something about this told Prussia that he and Austria were alone just now. "Inflicted by a human or not, that looks serious," the Austrian commented flatly, staring Prussia in the eyes. A tiny smile then played at the aristocrat's lips, and he bent forward, whispering sharply into Prussia's ear: "Well, good luck with it anyway, cousin o'mine." Then he leant in just a little bit closer, gave Prussia a quick peck on the forehead and ruffled his white hair mockingly as the Prussian lay choking on his own blood. The sentiment behind this horrified Prussia even more than the state he was in right now.
"Prussia!"
"Mon dieu, what happened?!"
Austria had just gotten back to his feet when France and Spain ran towards Prussia, followed more closely by Hungary, who Prussia now realised had gone to get the two countries there. France knelt down beside him and lifted him half onto his lap, holding the Prussian so that he was sitting up; blood spilled over his lips even faster now, but it did nothing for his breathing. He didn't know how long he'd been without oxygen now, but he could feel his consciousness beginning to slip away slowly. "His lung has been punctured," France concluded softly, holding the choking kingdom closer, letting him lean against his chest and shoulder. "There's no way he can breathe like this..."
"Prussia, you have to hold on!" Spain urged him on his other side, holding him by the shoulder and staring at him with terrified green eyes. "S-Saxony has gone to get your king, and then-"
And then what? Fritz wouldn't be able to do a thing to stop this. But Prussia knew he would be fine, impossible as it seemed; it had been a mere human.
"You cannot ask such impossible things of him, Spain," France scolded the Spaniard gently. "Look at the blood he's lost; it will be a miracle if he stays conscious until Frederick even arrives here. It's sheer impossible to, even."
Impossible? Somehow that word made Prussia indescribably angry. He gathered all the strength he had left before that, too, would flow out of his body, and parted his lips a little further. He could produce nothing but a ghastly gurgling at first, but then his voice, weak and raspy, followed: "...ot...n-n...ot..."
France seemed startled at this. "Save your breath, Prussia!" he urged him, sounding panicked. "Don't even try to talk you-!"
But Prussia didn't give up. He narrowed his eyes in frustration and kept on trying. "N..not... i-i-imp...ossib...ble..."
The other countries around him were silent for a moment, and then France sighed, chuckling under his breath. "Of course, I forgot," he whispered in a gentle tone. "You're Prussia, after all. Nothing is impossible for you."
Satisfied now, Prussia leant more heavily against France now, feeling the remnants of his strength leaving his body quickly. But he had made his resolve: he would stay conscious and alert until Fritz was there, if only to prove a point -that nothing could defeat him until he allowed himself to be beaten. And a special little message meant specifically for Austria: you will never be stronger than me.
He heard Spain ask Austria and Hungary about the human who had done this, but he didn't listen to it too much. The explanation of why a human would attack him from behind was something for a later time, for him at least. The only word he picked up out of the answer was 'evil', and that one word sent a chill through his very being.
Then, what were probably only seconds but seemed like an eternity later, he heard Fritz call out to him, and footsteps rapidly coming closer. Then when he saw the man's face, just inches away from his, he almost smiled.
I did it...!
And then everything went black.

"He's starting to look a little better, isn't he?"
"His blood must be regenerating. That means all internal damage must be healed, too."
"The wound looks like a scar already, see? I promise you, Your Majesty, from here on it'll go fast; he'll be back with us pretty soon."
Prussia lay still and just listened to the voices around him. He couldn't place a face or name to the voices as he heard them, but he could tell who were there: France, Spain, Saxony and of course Fritz. If there was anyone else, they weren't talking or being talked to. He tried to shift, but couldn't, and then decided he felt better laying completely still anyway. He didn't have the energy to move. So he just lay there, listening. He actually felt content like that. He liked these people, and he liked hearing their voices, so why not? Now if he could figure out what they were talking about...
"What's the matter, France?" He thought that was Spain, but he wasn't sure.
Naturally, the answer came from France himself, he had no doubt. "It's just... I know we like to tease him, but..." A sigh. "In the state he's in now, he really does look like... like just a boy. He really is still just a boy, and just consider... It's so horrible that someone so young should have to go through things like he has. But I think it's just as horrible that someone so young has done the things he's done in life... How can a child be so-?"
"Don't say evil."
"I wasn't going to. So troubled, so... so unstable."
Now what did that mean? And who were they talking about? Prussia furrowed his brows in frustration as he tried again to move and make a sound. The latter came first, and the moment he hummed softly, all other voices became silent. After a short struggle, he groggily opened his eyes, staring into the blurred faces of his allies, Fritz and Saxony. But there were others, too: a girl about his age, with brown hair and bright blue eyes, and a tall, broad-shouldered blonde man with even paler, more piercing blue eyes than the girl, his hair reaching to over his shoulders and with a single braid at the front. And then there was another female, a teenager dark brown, nearly black hair and grey eyes. He blinked at them, hoping to get a clearer view of their faces, but then they were gone as if they hadn't been there in the first place. Prussia stared just a little longer, but they really weren't there anymore, and he gave up, instead turning to the people who were there, and weren't just figments of his imagination.
Fritz looked too relieved to speak, instead smiling at Prussia like he hadn't seen his dear friend in years. Prussia smiled back, though he looked as tired as he felt.
"He's awake!" Spain nearly cheered, but he remembered to keep his voice down. Still, he looked nearly as happy as Fritz did. "Prussia, how are you feeling? And don't you dare say 'fine' or something, we know that'd be a lie!"
Prussia sighed. Like he was stupid enough to try and lie now! He was awesome enough to admit how awful he felt when there was no denying it anymore, like now. It was only when he thought the lie could be believable that he tried to deny the truth. "Really, really tired..." he answered softly, shifting a bit now to be more comfortable. "Like I just lost half my people in one go or something... crap."
Saxony cracked a grin at this, though there was no joy in his expression. "Well, you lost the blood to match it," he replied to his younger brother. "I'd imagine it would feel like that. But look at the bright side: you'll recover much more quickly than if you'd really lost all those people."
Prussia grinned back at him now, managing some mischief to appear in his gaze. "I'll feel better even sooner if you pay me those one million rixdollars," he quipped, though he was in fact rather serious at the same time. "C'mon, brother, you'll give my economy that little boost now that I'm like this, won't you? To help me?" He chuckled a little when Saxony's grin faded into anger, but then the Saxon, too, laughed a bit, calling Prussia a bastard for it.
When he heard that word, Prussia suddenly remembered something, too. "About bastards... Who was the coward that stabbed me from behind?" He wanted to know now. Right now.
The four other people all looked at each other for a moment. Fritz then sighed. "He was just a random Saxon soldier, Prussia," he explained softly. "Trust me, he will be severely punished for it -he'll wish the thought of attacking you like that had never even occured to him, I swear it."
Prussia was quiet for a moment, then sighed, looking away and saying in a whisper: "He... he called me devil..." Then, more loudly he added: "Do you know why he attacked me?"
Spain answered now, looking very uncomfortable all of a sudden. "W-well, amigo, he... He thought you had caused enough trouble for everyone by now, humans and countries alike, and he... probably decided the world would be better off if you... well, you know." He hesitated for a moment, then added: "That's why he called you devil: in his opinion, Prussia, you're... evil."
Everyone was silent for a moment after this. But then, much to everyone's surprise -and that included his own- Prussia sighed and shrugged. "Well, that's what everyone's been saying about me since the day I was born. It's not like I'm not used to it." The words had stung like a thousand needles for a moment, but a moment was all it lasted; the pain had faded away now, and Prussia didn't care anymore. He was right, after all, people had called him this for as long as he remembered. Only this time, the man had actually had a valid reason for his claims, and that made it all a million times more painful yet at the same time less so. The albino kingdom gritted his teeth, red eyes glinting angrily. "If the world expects me to be evil," he muttered through tightly clenched jaws, "then I will meet their expectations, and surpass them, I swear to God. It doesn't matter how much effort I put into being a good person, I always mess up in the end and do something that will make everyone hate me again. So why would I still put in so much effort? I can just do whatever the hell I like, it's not like it'll change their opinions of me."
"Prussia," Fritz tried to interrupt him softly, shaking his head. "Stop it, please. This isn't you."
"Oh yeah?" Prussia just retorted, turning his angry stare in his king's direction. "How do you know? Because I don't! I don't even know who I am, for God's sake, how can you?" He then glanced around at the three countries with him, glaring. Spain looked shocked and somewhat sad, but in Saxony and France's eyes lay only a mild disgust and otherwise unreadible emotions. Prussia just met their stares with constantly increasing rage. "What are you staring at me for?" he snapped, sitting up straighter now. "It's not like I want to be this way, but I am! If so many generations of people all over Europe have been calling me a demon, if humans have thought this of me all my life so far, then surely there must be truth in it? Who do you think is wrong in this case -the thousands upon thousands of people who all think the same thing of me, or me, trying to prove them wrong and failing all the time?" He swung his legs over the side of the bed the others had laid him in when he'd been unconscious and got up, ignoring Fritz's protest and Spain's warning that he should be careful since he couldn't be fully recovered yet.
Prussia felt a tidal wave of dizziness wash over him once he was on his feet, but he managed to not even stagger in spite of it. Slower than usual and a bit unsteady on his feet, he walked out of the room, but before he did so, he said -vowed- without even looking at anyone: "If the world really still thinks so badly of me, why not prove them right? If I really am the Devil, then I will act like it too. One day, I swear, I'll unleash hell on Europe for treating me this way all my life." Both his expression and his voice were completely devoid of emotion as he added: "And if need be... the world will meet the same fate soon after." Then he left, without looking back.

Prussia had managed to prove to Europe that he was stronger, smarter, better than all of them in so many ways. He had risen to power, status, both fame and infamy over the course of the two Silesian Wars. Yet the world couldn't come to respect him yet? They couldn't even bring themselves to accept him yet?
He wouldn't deny that he had done horrible things in his life. But how many of his kind were there, really, who weren't just like him in that respect? They had all waged wars and they had all slain thousands of people in those. Rome hadn't been condemned by the world for conquering others, Germania hadn't been hated because he'd contributed to Rome's death. Hell, not even Lithuania was being shunned, and he had killed his own sister, intentionally or not.
But Prussia couldn't even wage war against others and do one or two 'cruel' things without being declared evil for it? And most people didn't even know that he had killed Bavaria all those years ago. What was the fairness in that?
So right this moment, he would stop fighting it. He would stop trying to be a good person. No one would ever think of him that way, anyway, no matter what he did. Studying certain medical procedures between the two Silesian Wars had been for nothing, clearly; even if he helped save lives, the only thing people would know him for was that he took just as many as he saved. And so, right now, he would also stop telling himself that he had hurt Austria like he had to put an end to a war; what a lie that had been. It just didn't work like that, after all.
He had done it because he'd wanted to.

Now it's up to you guys to figure out which was the most honest of his opinions over his own actions: the guilt, or this last part?
Well, I don't blame Prussia too much. I know I wouldn't stay sane if the entire world treated me like they have him all my life. And my life will probably not even last a single century, let alone the five-and-a-bit he's lived at this point in the story.
Still... I suppose it's not an excuse. Merely an explanation. Those are two different things.

Anyway, some of my theories about Hetalia canon in this: remember how Austria's character bio stated that he'd spent part of his life in a wheelchair? Well, there you go. Prussia was to blame for it. And it didn't last too long, really -not as long as this certain character I've written before (whose name I will not write here in case someone here has yet to read those fics and to avoid spoilers).
Still, that was accidental. This wasn't.

Oh, Prussia, my dear... just don't listen to the world. You're awesome, just ignore those unawesome nay-sayers. There are people who love you, deary. (Though to be fair, except for Fritz, the only ones in-story who really love him are dead... poor baby).

Also, the people who were there when he woke up but 'vanished': I'm sure you must've figured out it were Brandenburg and Germania, and if not, here you go. The third person I described was the previous Prussia.

I hope you liked the chapter despite Prussia's... Prussia-ness (for now that is a synonym for 'mentally unstable yet somehow loveable bastard'). Thanks for reading!