Okay so, I had to do some research for this chapter. By research I mean skimming Wikipedia and TL;DRing the dissolving of Prussia in my head. So, with that being said, you should know that in this point in the story WW2 has ended and Germany is paying his price. I feel like this chapter will be bad no matter what I do, so I'm just going to start typing. I do NOT claim that this is historically accurate, just that I typed it and put a LITTLE thought into it first. Mkay? cool. I mean come on, they have iphones and fancy cars in 1947.

I have suddenly realized that the Berlin wall has not gone up yet. Therefore, it doesn't really make sense for Prussia to be calling Germany 'West' because it's still just one Germany. Crap.

Germany and Prussia talk to each other in German, okay. I'm just not going to make my German viewers suffer through horrible google translate, so use your imagination.

Paused to read the wiki debate on if HRE is Germany with amnesia or not and holy crapolia polla my mind is blown. Like, there's a lot of confusion on it because Hima has (ingeniously, but aggravatingly) never properly drawn Germany as a child or HRE as a teen. In one photo, he has an unlabeled teenager boy who looks like both of them (HRE because of hair, Germany because of outfit) and confuses everyone. Then, technically because Prussia was born named Teutonic Knights, HRE should be his OLDER brother. But in one of Hima's latest strips, Prussia is at least physically older than HRE who calls him his brother, but it's theorized by translators that him calling him that was an accident. So, if that's the case, HRE was born, then Prussia, then Germany. Also, it's not super CLEAR on who HRE's father is. Prussia's is Germania, no doubt. Germany is related to Germania but weither he's his son or grandson is unknown. HRE is left up in the air. Then, when HRE leaves chibitalia for the last time, Hima assures the fans that the two will have a happy ending. Then, HRE supposedly dies. So when? When Germany becomes a country and re-meets Italy? Or was something about HRE and Chibitalia's final words to each other supposed to be the happy ending? Or did Hima just say that and then realize he couldn't go back to it? Hima-sama, can you just pick a side please because I'm so lost. Couldn't of made HRE a brunette or something?! For the sake of this story, I will not be taking a clear stance on whether or not HRE is Germany, simply accepting that he either died or went into a comma-like state Prussia confused for death.

"I Won't Let You Slip Away From Me." - Ryan Dan

And so, it was a fountain pen. Prussia picked up the object with it's fat barrel cascading from a matte black near to glossy golden paint and rolled it on his fingers. It would be a fountain pen atop a deeply stained mahogany desk that did it. He ran his free hand across the black, grey, and white marbled top of the desk while walking slowly along it. He smiled lightly and looked up and around at the room surrounding him. Cream colored walls, dense carpet beneath his feet, crown molding, golden and brass flag poles with red, blue, and white or black,red, and yellow cascading off of them, a Persian rug in the left corner which held a ovular coffee table and two love seats above it. And so, this is were it would happen.

Just a month and some days earlier, Prussia had found himself thanking God for another year of life. He knelt beside his bed, cross necklace in his palms protected by interlocked fingers, and whispered a happy prayer in the dark, to himself, all alone, on his birthday. Oh, the irony. A moment that was supposed to be happy occurred in dimly lit silence, meanwhile this room got to be illuminated and honored. The pen glinted with sunlight from an opened window as he rolled it in his hand once again eyeing it.

"How does it feel?" he asked the pen, "to be so powerful?" He flicked a finger over its nib, getting a touch of ink on himself. The dot of black refused to be wiped away from his finger; it lingered, mocking him.

"Prussia?" The man looked up to find a set of ocean blue eyes studying him in shock. The albino found himself leaning back against the wooden traitor, setting down the writing instrument, and widening his smile.

"Hello, France." The man in question, lowered his head and allowed the blonde locks he had kept out of his purple ribbon to cover his face.

"I did everything I could," he cleared his throat, "my boss...won't listen," he tilted his head a bit lower and blinked rapidly in an attempt to force back the tears blurring his vision, "Pardon, mon amis. [Sorry, my friend]"

"Ce n'est pas de ta faute, [It's not your fault]" the albino found himself responding in his friend's language before making his way from the desk to him. He placed a hand on the French man's head and shook it lightly, stifling a small laugh from the recipient.

"Prussia, are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Yes, I've told you a billion times. I have experience with this kind of stuff. Trust me Francford, I'll be fine." The grey haired man scooted his friend to the side and slid out the door past him. He recalled it being a long walk to that room, very long, at least for a building. Nearly took him fifteen minutes to get from the parking lot to there, and so, in his small journey back, he allowed his thoughts to loose him. They drifted almost instantly back to that pen sparkling black, and gold, the colors of modern day elegance and class. He eyed the blotch of ink staining his otherwise porcelain skin and scowled at it.

He could deny it all he wanted to.

He could tell his friends whatever lies they needed to hear to remain calm and not feel guilty.

He could not, however, ignore the facts. And the facts were simple, really.

The facts, whether or not he liked it, were just so very simple.

That pen - that fountain-ed, paint coated, shimmering pen - would end his life. He found himself scoffing at the thought. Time after time he had seen it, be it by pen, quill, handshake, or verbal agreement, he had seen country after country and empire after empire fall to nothing. It would take nothing to end him. A simple flick of the wrist as some condescending army or air force marshals and generals signed an undignified sheet of parchment. Then ink of that pen landing on the fibers of that paper would end him. Those people had little concern for him or his well being, be it that they even knew a personification of Prussia existed, and honestly at that point the man felt he could storm into the room and beg for mercy to no avail. Beg that his land stay his, beg that he just reduce in size, beg that he be moved on the map, beg that his name changed, beg that he was left as even a single, solitary, building, beg for anything other than the phrase "cease to exist". He knew he would receive no pity. Maybe some twinge of fear or guilt would run through those men, and maybe for a moment he could make them feel like they and that pen were evils of the world. But that would not stop them from signing, this much he knew good and well.

Prussia forced open the door of the complex and shielded his demonic eyes from the rays of sunlight that attacked him. He knew that he was walking through the parking lot, he knew that he unlocked and climbed into his car, and he knew he turned onto the road with a destination of his driveway in mind. What he did not know was how he ended up at his little brother's house. It wasn't until he shut off the car and got his seat belt half off that he even realized he was there. It was similar to how some mornings, people would be driving to their work only to realize that it's Sunday, the office is closed, and they were actually trying to go to the mall. Somehow, his mind had blacked out on him while driving, took a few alternate turns, and led him here.

West is probably busy he found himself thinking. In the back of his mind, he processed secondary thoughts. Thoughts that were so obvious to him he didn't even have to properly think them. Thoughts like breathe, blink, and go inside the house. So, despite his one sided mental debate, Prussia found himself opening his car door. He probably has all sorts of meetings with his bosses and Italy and Italy's bosses. He walked up the pathway to the door. Prussia, this is a stupid waste of time. His car isn't even here. I mean it could be in the garage, but, he's busy! Germany just lost a war, he doesn't have time for this! He pulled a spare key from his back pocket. You don't have to do this. He opened the door and looked in at the empty corridor before sighing and stepping in. One of his secondary thoughts made its way to the surface. Yes you do.

"West," he nearly whispered before clearing his throat and trying again, the door squeaking shut, "West!" He cried it the second time more authoritatively, but a silence rang through the house regardless.

"West!" The quiet prevailed.

"WEST!" and the man continued to receive no response. Go home, he thought, truly pondering turning around and getting in the car, before he heard a door open and water running through the ceiling. Someone was home. Someone had left the bathroom. Someone could now hear him.

"West?"

"What?" a sharp, German voice snipped back at him. Prussia felt his stomach twist itself into a knot and his heart fall out of his body.

Germany was not supposed to be home. Prussia was supposed to try to tell his brother the truth, not have time, and his brother was supposed to find out through his boss or the news or something of the sort. Germany was NOT supposed to actually be present to hear what he had to say, because, he had nothing to say. Quite frankly, he didn't feel like discussing the loss of the war. He did not feel like detailing the possibility of his death. He had no desire to have his precious, little brother think it was somehow his fault Prussia had fallen apart. None whatsoever. He secondary thoughts - those verdammt things - forced his body up the stairs and to the door his brother was on the other side of.

Prussia felt sick. No, he felt faint. He could not go into that room, secondary thoughts or not! His torso was on fire. He could literally already feel sweat making his hands clammy - far too clammy to maneuver the door handle, or so he'd decided - and rolling down his back. The room seemed to sway. No. This was not possible. He could NOT do this. He wouldn't! It wasn't his job! Germany probably already knew! His boss situation has been a little off since the treaty and Hitler's suicide and all but surely someone had updated him. Prussia was not about to be the one to do it if not. No way in all of he-

"WHA- oh. What do you need Bruder?" Germany stood in the door frame, hand rested on his half of the handle wearing a t-shirt, socks, and boxer briefs. He'd had a highlighter tucked behind his ear and a blue pen resting on his shirt's collar. He stared in confusion and slight annoyance as the owner of the red set of eyes before him absolutely froze.

"Bruder?"

"WEST!" It was a shrill response, a shock registering in the tone that had kicked in far too late. "West...I uhhh, well...I guess I like, need to talk to you."

"Well speak then." Germany shifted his weight to one foot and waited with his irritation growing. He had been on the phone all morning trying to figure something, anything out about the control council's bidding. There were still plenty of war criminals that needed to be processed - which he would of helped with had he found someone, anyone to give him a list of names - and apparently they were doing something new soon, something he hadn't heard of because of all the disorganization. It was driving the man absolutely mad with rage and now his brother had come over to share some "awesome news" or talk about some birds or something and Germany was just drawn too thin of it all.

"West, really."

"Really what?"

"It's important," his brother remarked quietly, eyeing the ground. Germany sighed. Nothing Prussia had ever said was important was actually important. The time he had found an albino chick for sale a five hour drive away for way too much money - not important. The time he had blended together three kinds of beer for his personal mix, delicious, but not important. Even when Germany was young, and Prussia bought him a dog, while it was probably the best day of his life, it was NOT important. At least not more important than what he had been doing prior to getting interrupted: meeting his first official boss. Germany also knew his brother to be the persistent type and accepted that it was easier to just comply with his wants most the time. He turned around and took a seat on his back, leaning back onto the pillow-chair he had made against the headboard. His brother sat across from him and fiddled with the sheets.

"Prussia," Germany called, bidding his sibling to speak.

"Uhm...well..." Prussia wiped his still sweaty palms on his sleeves and rested a hand then on his stomach, begging it to stop twisting and untwisting itself. "I...my place was used in Germany as a military powerhouse before, with a lot of leaders and such coming from there, before the end of the war."

"Yes."

"Well...I-I can't use it for that stuff anymore."

"I know."

Prussia never once lifted his gaze even close to meeting his brother's eyes. Eyes that had lost all irritation and shifted instead to curiosity, searching for something in Prussia's body language that showed whatever emotion on his face he was trying so hard to hide.

"I thought we already talked about this, Bruder," the blonde one continued, "We can find another purpose for it. The land could become an industrial hub. With all the soldiers returning, we are definitely going to need more jobs and some kind of circulation to get the economy back in-"

"I can't use it," Prussia sighed mid sentence, bringing a hand to his forehead. It was steaming. His whole body was radiating heat and his stomach was still finding enjoyment in seeing how tightly it could coil, making it's beholder horribly nauseous. "I can't use it for military advancements anymore because they're redistributing my land." Germany's eyes bulged as he leaned away from his brother, trying to absorb.

"What?!"

"Redistributing. The state of Prussia itself is...uhm...it's going to cease to...after today..." Prussia paused, and forced himself to breathe. He forced himself to smile, and sit up straight. He looked Germany in the eyes, before quickly deciding he didn't have the strength and going instead for the bridge of his nose. He felt his rose-colored eyes watering, and only widened his smile, pressing both hands on his hips. "The state of Prussia is going to cease to exist after today. Isn't that something?"

What was this? What was this look in his elder brother's eyes? They smiled, they squished and twinkled just as they were supposed to, but there was something else. Some concern and sadness threaded in there. It reminded Germany of when he was a boy. Prussia's boss, Ferderick was his name, had passed away. Prussia had the same look in his eyes when he regarded Germany with a smile, before locking himself in his room for several days to wallow in sadness. The look had not resurfaced anywhere between then and now, and Germany almost forgot what it felt like. Almost. But he knew that it felt helpless, like he was a million miles away from Prussia and every second they drifted farther from one another. He could try to run towards him, he could try to catch him, but he could never make it. He could try to hug him, to comfort him, to tell him encouraging things, but it would all fall to deaf ears and a lost soul. He should've never lost this war. He should have never even gone to war! What was he thinking? Putting everything at risk like this? His father had done and and where had that gotten him? He had heard of the Holy Roman Empire falling into a similar trap. Saxony, Bavaria, the countless other nations that had done away with themselves to elevate him and this is how he repay them? How he repay his brother! His only remaining family?! His mentor?! His BLOOD?!

"Germany!" The blonde found a hand on his knee. "This is not your fault okay? Don't think that! I see you thinking that! Stop! I have not been an empire or country for a long while! It was only a matter of time..."

"DON'T SAY THAT!" He screamed back, it sounding particularly harsh in his native language. He launched himself from the bed, away from his brother's hold and his own shame.

"West, I still have time!"

"I CAN STOP THIS!" Without pausing to think, in a rare state of panic, Germany turned to his closet and nearly tore a pair of jeans putting them on.

"West-"

"I can just GO DOWN THERE and STOP. THIS. There has to be a way! Some kind of negotiation to be made or-"

"WEST!" Prussia stood guarding the door, both eyes bearing into the others'. Germany ignored this fact and stormed towards the door, willing to tear it down if he had to. He could just go and say something to the right person and stop this from happening. He wouldn't have to loose anyone else. He wouldn't be left alone again. Prussia wouldn't have to suffer if he could just-

"DO YOU THINK I HAVEN'T TRIED EVERYTHING?!" two stern hands on his shoulders shook him from his trance and he slowly registered Prussia screaming at him, looking back and forth from his brother's red irises, his senses seeming to come back to him. "I HAVE SPOKEN WITH THEM! I TALKED TO EVERY ONE OF THEM IN CHARGE THAT I COULD! I PROPOSED ANYTHING ANYONE COULD THINK OF! I FOUGHT FOR MYSELF! I BARGAINED! I PLEADED! I begged! I... did you think I was just going to just heel over, West? I tried. I really truly did, but this is the way it is."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Germany asked, stepping back and appearing to be calm.

"I couldn't."

"So...after tonight, you're just going to..."

"No!" Prussia cried, hoping it was the truth, "I-I have time."

"What do you mean?" Prussia gulped and studied his brother before continuing. He had lost the burst of adrenaline that would have led him straight to Berlin to protest otherwise. He now stood sort of limp and tired. He looked as if he had been awake for years with dark rings suddenly under his eyes and a deflation in his cheeks. Germany's eyes were always very dull, and hard to read. If he wasn't enraged you'd almost never know how else he felt. Now, those pools of blue quite clearly showed nothing but misery.

"Holy Roman Empire came to live with me after he was dissolved," Prussia commented, remembering carrying the small boy's limp body to bed one night when he fell asleep by the fire, "he stayed with me for maybe fifty or sixty more years before he died." Germania did not live a day after his empire fell. Germany was too young at the time to remember it, but the fear in Prussia's young heart was seared there for ever as he watched his beloved father leave for business in the morning and finally accepted , days later, that he would not return, and all Prussia could do now, was hope that his fate would not be the same. "I've got time."

Holy Roman Empire had lived every day in fear. He was a fun, happy little boy who liked to read, write, and paint despite being bad at it. He was bitter for having had to leave all his friends, and everything he'd ever known really, to hide with Prussia. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to fade away. He was a scared little boy and Prussia...no, Germany, didn't deserve that fear. He shouldn't have to live wondering if his brother was going to wake up the next morning. Prussia would save him from that.

"But, you are going to fade away?"

"I might not. And if I do, it's not for a long time!"

"A LONG TIME?! You're giving me mere DECADES Prussia!" The German quickly whipped his head to the side to shield his brother from seeing the tear that escaped and slid down his face. He masked wiping it away with scratching his cheek. "Decades."

"They'll be...very good decades. I'll be here." Prussia walked forwards, eyes locked on his sibling every inch, until he leaned in and wrapped his arms around the taller, broader frame, embracing him. "I'll be here... I promise I will be here for you... Okay?" Prussia could feel the man's deep, unsteady breaths and the slight trembling of his chest. He listened to Germany's heart hammer on rapidly.

"Okay, Germany?" He was pulled in closer to his younger sibling's warmth, finally being hugged back, the other's head resting in his silver locks.

"Okay."

So I'm splitting this chapter in two. WHOOPS! This just go so long and like...oh wow. I've been writing for three hours. THREE HOURS. Lol I am pathetic. Also, someone finally guessed the song! Tears of an Angel! Go on youtube and seach like "Tears of an angel hetalia prussia" or something. You'll understand why I HAD to write this story. HAD TO. Also, the lyric pick for this chapter does not work because I like...these characters got away from me. They started acting a little OOC and the reactions I had planned for both of them faded into the abiss and this happened. I feel the need to always say, there will be more of ALL the characters. Romano, Hungary, Austria, Litchenstien, Germany, France, and Switzerland with have other apperances! Anyways, I know everyone has been waiting for Germany's reaction (again, more to come) but this ended up being alittle more about Prussia than him and it's just like idk. I hope it was good.

I hope you liked it. If you did, review. If you didn't, review. If you don't care, review. I LOVE READING REVIEWS YOU GUYS ARE SO AWESOME :DDDD