10

It takes days, maybe weeks, for Canada to finish up the duties he's been assigned while also taking charge of Prussia. In this time, the Allies force Germany to issue an official surrender, and the true aftermath and cleaning up of the war can begin. There's a lot to do, but Canada does his best to help his own people and allies while making sure Prussia has all he needs to recover.

When they finally arrive in London as per Gilbert's request to see England, the albino nation is much closer to his old self, cracking a few jokes and teasing Canada at the most surprising times. Of course, there's also moments like this, where Prussia stares off into the distance and doesn't seem to recognize that he's with someone.

Like now, Prussia is standing at a window looking out of Buckingham Palace and frowning at who knows what while his thoughts take him. Canada sighs and leaves him be, glad at least that they've found dark slacks and a fresh white button-down for Gilbert to wear and call his own, though the man continues to wrap his arm in bandages as if he's hiding an injury.

For the moment, Matthew has to let it be and hope time will heal those internal wounds. He has to stay focused on something else. Like convincing England that they don't need to be placing blame on Prussia and they don't need to go through with this whole idea of abolishing him. It's hard to break through the face of the British Empire, but he has to try.

Which is why they're here. England doesn't normally stay in the palace grounds, but enough questions into his whereabouts have led Canada to search a study room in this huge place. Thankfully, there's guides and secretaries to lead them through the halls to where Arthur is working, but it takes far too much effort to get the humans to do what he needs. Apparently, England doesn't want to be disturbed.

After pushing consistently for an hour or so, they're allowed into the room without further incident. When Canada opens the door and allows Prussia to follow him, he finds England sitting at a dark wood desk covered in papers, pens, and various paperweights. The other nation doesn't look up at first, focused on reading something in his hand and then signing it with a flourish. In this time, Canada and Prussia step fully into the well curtained room, which hide the few broken windows he knows are still there.

Finally, England looks up and green eyes flash. "No. Get him out of here."

"Oh shove it, Arthur," Gilbert says before Matthew can open his mouth. "I need to talk to my brother and I hear you're the one in charge so I've got to go through you."

"I am the British Empire and you will call me by that name!" England snaps before lowering his voice. "I'm not talking to you. Get out."

"All right, Mr. British Empire, good job on winning the war in the end. Now would you mind letting me see my brother? It's been two years since I last saw him."

England stands up and walks around his desk, like he's going to personally throw them out of his room, only to stop, frown, and cross his arms. "Why weren't you with him?"

"Ah, that's - " Prussia shifts and rubs at his arm with the bandage. "Kind of complicated."

At this, Matthew tenses and brings a hand to his face. Biting his lip, he looks between the two. A current world power and a nation who is falling into history. There must be some stories of them working together, as Gilbert has mentioned, but as they are now it's hard to see any similarities.

Besides their stubbornness, maybe.

But none of that matters anyway, does it? Prussia is barely hanging on to his nation status as it is and England wants to rip it away from him. Prussia is so prideful he doesn't want to reveal why this wouldn't be fair. England is too exhausted from the war effort to see through the haze of what his people want, and he's wrapped up in those feelings because staying at home is the best way to recharge his energy.

And here he stands, once again nothing more than an invisible Canada sitting on the sidelines, finding it hard to bring any defense to the limelight. He wants to save Prussia from being abolished. He doesn't want to see someone he cares for disappear. Yet he also wants to respect Prussia's inane pride by not revealing the numbers under that bandage, the proof of what Germany has done to his own brother, that it can't all be laid at Prussia's feet.

Words come from Canada's lips as he steps forward for attention. "England, he's the one who rescued me when I-"

Only to be silenced by a cold green glare. "Know your place, Canada."

"Tch," Prussia scoffs nearby. "You and your empire bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Matthew takes a breath and tries again. He doesn't know why these two are so quick to fight, but he can't let them continue like this. He has to make England see. He has to.

"England, listen," he says, "It wasn't his fault. He just -"

And the glare freezes him mid sentence once again. "Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

"Hey!" Prussia shouts, rushing to stand in front of Canada. "Stop being such a fucking ass to Matthew! I didn't save him just so you could put on that high and mighty attitude of yours and talk down to him like this."

Matthew tenses because he sees the frustration and annoyance flash through England's face. This will all be for nothing if Prussia pisses England off here. He can't just let them go at each other's throats. The tension in the room is begging to be released, but he can't allow it. They just need to calm down and talk.

Can't they just listen for once?

As if in answer, England huffs and turns his gaze from Prussia to Canada. "He saved you?"

"Uh, yeah," Canada says with a weak smile. "Before Germany could come in and take over, Prussia made sure I got out of Berlin."

England looks like he's swallowing a bug, but he manages to nod his head toward Prussia. "Then you have my thanks, Gilbert."

"Keh," Prussia scoffs. "So let me talk to my brother as a way of thanks."

"I don't think so."

"Come on, Arthur. What's the deal?"

"I told you not to call me by that name."

"Oh so you can use mine but I can't use yours?"

"Exactly."

"Why the fuck does that make sense?"

"Because -"

At this point, Canada's body moves on its own. Prussia is still standing in front of him from earlier, and he's waving his arms around as he snaps at England. He's clearly frustrated, but beyond that, Canada's eyes can't leave the bandages on the pale arm. They're coming loose.

And it would just be so easy to convince England if -

Before the thought really solidifies, before he can really think through the consequences, Canada springs forward enough to snatch Prussia's arm. The other man stops shouting back at England, but Canada refuses to look at him. Instead, he works to undo the bandage wrap so he can pull it back and show the tattooed numbers on his arm. Hold them up for England to see.

"Look, England," Canada breathes. "Just shut up and look. Please. This is what happened to Prussia after he helped rescue me. These numbers are proof he was in one of the camps."

Both of England's thick eyebrows raise. "Camps?"

Canada nods. "Yeah. We found him in a concentration camp, which means you can't blame him for everything."

"My god," England breathes, arms dropping to his side in disbelief as he looks to Prussia. "Gilbert…"

When Canada looks up to see Prussia's reaction, he feels a little bad for shattering the man's pride - even if it was for his own good. The albino nation has his eyes closed and his jaw clenched, his face turned off to the side as if he could avoid them both. His arm is frozen, his body tense, and Canada lets go with a quiet apology.

England clears his throat. "Well. Then I suppose I'll take you to see Germany after all. That's the least I could do."

Canada feels his face break into a relieved smile. "Thank you, England."

The super power nation waves his hand in the air. "Wait outside. I have some business to finish first."

"Right," Matthew says, gently grabbing Prussia around his wrist and pulling him toward the exit. "Come on, Gil."

The other nation is quiet and unresponsive, even though he follows dutifully. Matthew chews the inside of his cheek, unable to keep himself from worrying. Maybe he went too far after all. Does that count as breaking trust? But he was able to convince England to do what Prussia wanted, so…

So...

Why is his heart so heavy?

~!~

Germany sits on a cot in a small room and stares at his shaking hands. He asks himself how it could have gone so wrong. How could he have lost himself? Having pushed everyone away, having lost them all, he has now lost the war.

And there's no doubt it's going to be worse this time around. After everything he's done, everything he's caused, there's no way the Allies will let him off easy. Considering the last reparation requirements for the last major war, Germany feels sick just thinking about what they may do this time.

What of his brother? He flinches just at the thought, clenching his hands amid scars of terrible torture he's responsible for, and hangs his head. Gilbert is never going to forgive him. Can he even call him brother anymore?

How could I do that? How come I didn't listen? To him or Italy?

Oh, yes, Italy has left him, too. Having problems at home, fighting his own crazed leader, Italy gave up and sided with the Allies, leaving Germany to defend from all sides by himself. Not to mention what Japan may still be dealing with in the Pacific.

It's my fault. It's all my fault…

Movement draws Germany's attention to the door of his small room. It's more of an old storage room that England seems to have tossed him into, considering the piles of sealed boxes against the walls and the lack of anything else besides the army cot. He supposes he should be glad that his temporary holding cell isn't in Russia's control, despite the fact that the larger nation crashed through Berlin first.

Recoiling from the memory, Germany instead focuses on the doorway and gapes at the figure who walks into the room. Silvery white hair, dark red eyes, and pale skin with a mess of bandages wrapped around his arm, Prussia looks worse than he's ever seen him. At first Germany flinches back, but then the realization of why his brother looks so torn up and distraught makes Germany's breath stop short in his throat.

Even the smile the albino nation gives is plastered on with so much obvious fake cheer. "Yo, West. Been a while, huh?"

Germany can't find words. His tongue is trapped at the roof of his mouth and his heart pounds in his ears. His mouth is dry, his hands are shaking again, and he can't meet the gaze so he turns his face and stares at the ground instead.

Gilbert sighs and walks forward into the cramped room. Germany flinches back as the other nation sits beside him on the cot, pulling his legs up like he's making himself comfortable. He spares a glance to his brother, frowning at the ease with which Gilbert crosses his legs on the cot and leans back against the wall, arms also crossed in front of him. It's a mask. It has to be. The body language says Prussia is tense and guarded, even as his eyes slip closed to no doubt join Germany in avoidance of meeting gazes.

Silence stalks through the room, between them, an aching wall that exists and refuses to budge. Germany isn't sure what he can say. He wants to apologize, but he doesn't think it'll be enough. Nothing will be enough. After what he's done - what he's done to Gilbert, his brother, of all people - there's no way anything he says will ever be enough. It's tense and awkward just sitting next to him, and he tortures himself internally for eons, choking on the smoke of a broken relationship.

Until…

Gilbert sighs into that smokey air. "I forgive you."

Ludwig spins to face him, eyes wide, but his brother still has his eyes closed. So he swallows the self inflicted hatred in his throat and tries a word. "What?"

Red eyes appear and glance toward him, the fake smile stretching wide across the pale face. "I said I forgive you. Your monster is a terrible force to be reckoned with, huh?"

"My -" Germany swallows and shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run through the sweaty bangs hanging across his forehead. "My monster?"

"Yeah, you know," Prussia says. "Mine comes up in battle, probably since I was born in the midst of crusading and all that. Yours…"

Germany is already shaking his head. It feels like an excuse. He can't blame all those bad things on some twist of being a nation. It doesn't seem right. Not to all the people who have died. All the civilians that he's murdered through his actions.

A wrenching twist settles in his gut and his hands are trembling again. Being away from his country is a blessing in disguise. All the emotions of his people are too much to deal with right now. So much shame, so much disgust. It hurts. It hurts just remembering it all.

"West," Prussia says with another sigh. "I tried to warn you."

"I should have listened to you."

"Yeah, you should've."

He winces at the stark honesty, but, hey, that's his brother. That's what Gilbert does. He's honest and blunt, except when it comes to himself. Of course he would go the I told you so route.

And Germany is sure he deserves it. Gilbert is right. His brother tried to warn him before things got too bad, but by then it was already too late, wasn't it? Maybe they could have pulled out before things got too insane, but…

But does that matter now? What's done is done. He's sent so many to their deaths. So many to those camps. So many suffering and dying now. His own brother had to sit in that filth and deal not only with the physical abuse but the mental abuse of being a nation around so much suffocation.

"I'm sorry," Ludwig chokes out, tears hitting his eyes and in danger of falling. "I'm so so sorry."

"Mm," Gilbert hums. "I know."

His trembling hands come up to press against his eyes, fighting the tears, but the emotion is drowning him. Germany has so much to answer for, and he's worried about what they're going to do. He's heard the rumors from his guards, from England. Heard that there might be something worse in the works than any of them could ever imagine.

Something worse for Prussia, for the nation, and what will it do to his brother?

"Bruder, I -"

"There you go!" Gilbert says suddenly, slapping his shoulder. "Been waiting for years to hear you say that again."

"H-huh?"

When he lifts his gaze, he finds red eyes sparkling in the dim lighting of the storage room. "We're brothers. I forgive you, even if it still hurts and a part of me still isn't sure I should, but you know what, I raised you so I'm sure some of it is my fault. I should've better prepared you for the monster side that can come out in us."

"N-no," Ludwig stutters, tears tracking down his cheeks. "Don't take the blame. It's not -"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, whatever," Gilbert says as he leans in and presses their foreheads together. "You're always such a big crybaby, West. It's good to see you again. We'll come out of this together. Like we always do. All right?"

Words die in his throat. He's not sure what to say. He doesn't deserve this. His brother. Forgiveness. He doesn't deserve any of it.

Especially if the worst is yet to come for Prussia. How can he convey those fears? How can he apologize for what might happen? Words fail him so he does the only other thing that comes to mind. He reaches out and pulls his older brother into a hug and clings and cries like he's a child again and he's worrying over his big brother who goes off to the war front and comes home with wounds all for his sake.

This time, Gilbert's wounds all mostly internal, and inflicted by Germany himself, but he still holds on and seeks comfort in the one person he can right now. With Italy gone, he doesn't have anyone else.

And he's so lucky to have a brother stand by him even after everything he's done.

"I'll make it up to you," Ludwig whispers. "Somehow. I promise."