I am spectacular at updating on time. If a canonical version of this European character exists already, I'm ignoring it.

Warning for… era-accurate racial slurs, I guess?


Ol' Miss- By Valor and Arms

The battlefield was silent, and Mississippi was the last man standing. If he could still call himself that. Because right now, backed against a bombed-out tank, heart beating like a hummingbird as he knew there was one Kraut left picking off the wounded, Mississippi didn't feel so much like a man. His papers told his sergeant he was eighteen, his voice told him otherwise. Right now, Mississippi wished he were the age he looked, because then he wouldn't be bleeding out on some random French farm in the European countryside.

One Kraut remained. The battlefield was silent, except for the occasional stumble of combat boots, the wet squelch of a knife. A hero would have cocked his gun, blown his cover, and brought him down. America certainly would have. He might've even won another medal he didn't need. It wasn't that Mississippi was scared of dying- he lead the charge of the South too often. But this war was different. That Kraut wasn't eliminating survivors for a tactical advantage, he acted out of spite and vindication. Once, Mississippi wouldn't have blamed him. Some small part of him agreed: It wasn't Germany's fault.

The boots trailed away. If he knew he was there, the Kraut sure was taking his time. Mississippi wondered if he was the blond-haired, blue-eyed fantasy Hitler imagined for himself. If he was barely of age to enlist. Probably not. Normal soldiers didn't stick around to slaughter the enemy with their bare hands.

Mississippi wasn't scared of dying. He was scared of getting dragged before the SS and being unable to die. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to be dead just like his fellow Americans, invisible. But somehow he'd gotten lucky and if the SS figured out who and what he was, neither Germany nor the great Allied Powers would be coming to his rescue.

His hands tightened on the bloody, muddy gun. It was just one kid; man. If he was wounded, he'd probably die anyway out here. Maybe he had a gun, maybe it was out of bullets. Maybe his back was turned and he wouldn't know what hit him.

Or he could shoot himself and take the coward's way out. But damn you and your hero complex, Dad. If America was in his position, he'd shoot the Kraut and save the survivors.

Mississippi swallowed bile. Turn. Point. Shoot. That was it. Turn. Point. Shoot. Turn point shoot. Turn point shoot.

"Hände hoch!"

Mississippi froze. The voice was above him. The damn Kraut had avoided giving himself away with the mud by climbing the tank. He'd known he was there the entire time. Maybe Mississippi was fast enough. All he had to do was point up. Turn point shoot. Instead, he complied, numb hands in the air.

"I-ich erge-erje-"

"I speak English." The enemy dropped to the oily mud before him like some Jap ninja, aiming a pistol and an impassive glare. Cold red eyes looked him over, unimpressed. "Name."

"David H. Jones." Louise would call his name unoriginal, uninspired, but then, she went around calling herself Louisa Lafayette Jones, thank you very much.

The Kraut hesitated, skeptical. "You're a child. They let you enlist?"

Another time, Mississippi would have huffed and stood up for himself. He was probably five times older than him, at least. "What's it matter?"

Of all the things he never thought he'd hear on the battlefield, a ripple of nasally laughter from a German teen was not one of them. "Mein Gott…" He lowered the gun, a crazed gleam in his eye. "Ich bin Sachsen. Saxony." He laughed again, jutting his chin. "Which one are you?"

Mississippi gaped. "Saxony. The Province?"

'Saxony' glared. "Kingdom."

In that moment, he was the spitting image of Prussia, and Mississippi didn't know how he missed it. He was Saxony, the last German standing on a French battlefield, probably as old as if not older than the man himself.

Saxony aimed at his face, as if just remembering they were enemies. "I asked which one you are."

Mississippi hoped to Heaven above he could annoy the kingdom into killing him. I cannot get captured by a German state.

Saxony tilted his head in thought. "Southerner, yes? And not one of the originals. Texas?"

Mississippi glared hotly. "I'm Mississippi you damned Kraut!"

Saxony snorted and holstered his gun. "Original." He pulled a muddied, crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket in offering. Mississippi eyed the smokes, longing for his Camels. Even if it was a trap, Saxony wouldn't be able to fire in time. "Kid, they're not poison."

They could be. Laced with cyanide or something- actually that would be a convenient way to go out. But Saxony lit one of his own, uncaring of the rifle still within arms' reach of his enemy, so he accepted. Tension abated, and Mississippi's shoulders relaxed. Saxony dropped down beside him, back against broken treads as if they sat beneath an oak tree having a picnic.

Red eyes glanced his way. "Figured you'd be more... patriotic."

Mississippi flicked the cigarette, still eyeing the gun. "This ain't my war, Kraut." He leaned back, some bolt or gear digging into his spine. "I'm fighting you, but my war's with Japan." The butt almost crumbled between his fingers, ash mixing with the gore on his hands. "Damn Jap picked on the wrong family." Hawaii had thirty-six older brothers armed to the teeth with a bloodlust that would not be quenched until she was avenged. Saxony didn't need to know that, but a tightening of his jaw told Mississippi his enemy knew all too well. But it was gone in a second.

Saxony rolled his eyes, "May your vengeance be just and swift." He shifted and dragged his feet up, holding his gun like a stuffed animal. "I trained your brother, you know. Came 'cross the Atlantic with Prussia. I knew- I knew Japan was a bad idea. You Americans," he said with a dry, raspy chuckle, "You're a dedicated bunch. I knew Japan would be a problem. Now look at us."

Saxony spread his arms as if on a grand stage, daring any unworthy groundlings to defy him. "I don't see Ludwig here on the battlefield. He's got somewhere more important to be. Fighting England somewhere. And I'm stuck here with you." He paused, rolling the cigarette between his teeth. "You got other siblings here?"

Mississippi hesitated, because he couldn't tell him that a ship with his namesake was currently terrorizing the Land of the Rising Sun and Japan was very much a bad idea. "We're all here, 'cept Ginny back home while Dad's away."

Saxony arched a pale, grimy brow, "America's not your brother?"

"To the Thirteen he is. But I wasn't there when all this started. So to me, he's Dad."

He whistled, head back, exposing a soot-stained neck, sweat beading on his skin. "Can't imagine, an entire squadron of forty-something immortal Nations raiding the countryside. That'd be something to see."

Mississippi doubted he should be giving the enemy this information, but, "I ain't seen any of my brothers or sisters since I deployed. Some of us went south, others across the Pacific. We ain't all fighting either."

Saxony nodded, staring at some finite point in the distance. "They'll make it."

He knew that, but just because they couldn't die, didn't mean they couldn't suffer.

Saxony smirked in a way that was oh-so-Prussia. Mississippi knew jack squat about his history, but it made him wonder who came first. "Know how I know?" Saxony took another drag and squinted at that far-off point. "Because you're on my soil. If anyone's not coming out of this war alive, it'll be me." He shook his head, checked his magazine, "Prussia and Ludwig won't miss me," and slammed it back in with cold indifference. "But if I get stuck with France, I'll just do it myself."

Mississippi started, because if his briefing was correct and he hadn't somehow crossed all of Germany without knowing, Saxony's post-war problems would lie with the Soviets, not Francis, and he seemed far too relaxed about that, as if he'd resigned to his inevitable fate. Mississippi found himself oddly comforted, because if their roles were reversed, America wouldn't leave any of them behind. Germany would, at least this Germany, and some small part of him felt they all deserved it. The war may not have been Germany's fault, but everyone got their hands dirty.

"Big Easy Louise… she ain't get no respect from anyone that don't know who she is. You ever feel that way with your Jews? Cause you are, you know, some part of you, probably more than you'd like to admit. How's it feel, Kraut? Cause lemme tell ya, durin our war, I think I shot myself more times than those prissy northerners to make it stop. Now it's your turn, and I hope it hurts."

Saxony snorted, voice low and nasally. "You would have if it happened today. What we're doing? If you fought your war today, I bet you'd be doing the same exact thing. If you had tanks? Mustard gas? You got lucky it was only 1860."

Mississippi glared. "We weren't trying to exterminate our own people."

He shrugged, too relaxed, too confident with his beliefs. "I didn't say that. I just said you'd take full advantage of the arsenal in your pocket. You got lucky."

This wasn't a battle Mississippi was keen on fighting. There were plenty more in the future, so he let it go. "Who do you think's gonna win?"

"No one's gonna win at this point. Maybe it'll just go on forever." He threw his head back again, this time with his eyes closed, finger on the trigger, but not to fire, perhaps just a reflex. In that moment, Mississippi decided Saxony was the older of the two, even if he wasn't. And maybe it was because they were both overshadowed by their nations and Nations, but guilt suddenly made his stomach churn for thinking he deserved it. Punishment yes, but not cruelty. "Saxony,"

The kingdom hummed, peeking one eye open.

Mississippi should not be promising this, he didn't even have the authority to enforce it. "We had Lithuania for a while after last time. Maybe… maybe if you lose, you stay with us."

Saxony sputtered a hoarse laugh, crowing at the grey sky above. "Is that that American Southern Hospitality?"

He sat up and spit the cigarette aside. "Tell you what. I just might take you up on that offer, and if you lose, I'll go easy on you."

Mississippi snorted, cracking a smirk. "We ain't gonna lose."

Saxony mirrored it. "American dedication." He sighed and checked his magazine again, then got to his feet. "We won't get there sitting here."

Suddenly dwarfed by the much older man, Mississippi worried for a moment he'd shoot him, and he'd deserve it for letting his guard down.

Saxony didn't notice or didn't care of the apprehension of his enemy and looked over the battlefield, nodding to himself. "Looks like you won this one."

Everyone except them was dead or dying on both sides. Mississippi firmly disagreed and stated as much.

Saxony shouldered his gun, his other hand hovering by his sidearm just in case. "Winning isn't just about how many are left alive, Mississippi. It's about what you're dying for."

He didn't blame Germany for their vengeance, at least, not all of him did. It wasn't fair, and Europe was paying for that bitter spite one hundred fold. "I think you have the home field advantage for motivation."

"Not anymore." Saxony turned on his heel in the mud. "See you in another life."

He should take him prisoner- should shoot the Kraut who turned his back and take him in for intelligence, but he didn't. Saxony disappeared over the ridge to fight another battle for a country that barely remember he existed.


Notes:

From what I understand, Mississippi was pretty divided during the Civil War, supplying soldiers to both the Union and the Confederacy. It had only been a state for half a century before it was the second to secede from the US. It was third from last to be readmitted to the Union and the first to begin the "Black Codes". As for WWII, Mississippi and the southern states in general were all apart of the great industrialization wave that swept the nation, and it was one of the largest suppliers and training grounds for soldiers deploying overseas. The USS Mississippi served in both world wars and was one of few that survived it all, playing a huge part in our Pacific war with Japan and the Philippines.