Oh my goodness gracious. I just read a response to a review I posted on a fanfic praising it, and the author was so thankful, and it warmed my little heart. What precious angels live on this website, oh my god. She said the review nearly made her cry, which I so understand cause I've been there! And I know my own reviewers are all angels as well~! I love it when there can be a happy community like this. Just UGH. I can't even emotions right now. Y'all make my day. My week. My life. Like, really.

Do you recall when I said this wasn't going to be historically accurate? Yea. Well, it's come to my attention that phones do not exist in this time period. Ha. Oooppppsss...

Fanfic decided to do that thing where there's no apostrophes. So, where that just said "there's" will come up in most of the below as "there s". I'm sorry, I just don't have time/can't be bothered to fix it. Hope it's not too confusing, guys. :)

The Prussian man stayed under his friends' watchful eyes for another six days. They blended together into a haze of good sleep, delicious French food littered with tomatoes at Spain's request, mushy movies, silly antics, and bright smiles. During those six days, Spain had really stepped up. While he externally looked better, with most of his small wounds, cuts, and bruises having healed and faded, and his skin regaining its usual color rather than the twinge of green it'd had on day one, Prussia wasn't internally there. His heart rate had slowed alarmingly, and the doctors had given him Ricoroxaban, which Google so kindly told Spain was made for blood clots. He read up obsessively on the risk of stroke, heart attack, and seizures, accidentally convincing himself his friend was a step away from sudden death. He made sure every pill was administered the very second it was due, got multivitamins for Prussia high in vitamin C, and brought his old weights and equipment from the basement to give the man something to exercise with. He'd developed a small clinic in his room and would every night check Prussia's blood pressure and count the beats per minute of his heart.

"Spain," Prussia would plead near every time, "I feel fine, calm down, man." Honestly though, the albino didn't mind being coddled. He especially loved seeing his friend's goofy smile spread across his face with every check-up as his health gradually increased. It wasn't until day five that Spain remembered that he was still a country, and still had work to do. His boss had called that day, shouting a slew of Spanish curses at him for his unfinished paperwork and neglection.

France didn't have this problem. Most of his Prime Ministers and Presidents had quickly upon meeting him grown to accept the man's nature. The current two sighed when France had called them, hysterical about his Friend's condition, and knew immediately then that France had no intentions of getting done anything they'd asked him to. If they persisted too far, he would go on strike, and if he went on strike it was only a matter of time before the entire republic did. So, they extended the length of his leash and waited patiently for the man to come back, wondering what he did with his time.

The answer to that question probably would have irritated them to no end, as it was mostly just being an idiot. He dragged his friends to the club, the theater, concerts, shopping malls, and parties during his six days of freedom with only one goal in mind. It was to make Prussia smile. Every second the man wasn't doing something, he became lost in thought. He refused to convey to the others what he was thinking about, but the expression on his face when he did so disturbed France. He wasn't frowning or glancing down in some shade of despair, nor was he balling his white fists in anger. He would find somewhere to sit crisscross, sometimes write in one of his little journals, sometimes just stare at the wall, and his face went completely blank. He would occasionally nod or twitch, maybe mouth or whisper one word, but he'd usually end up so lost in himself he wouldn't even move. Just sit. And think. And it was creeping the wimpy French man out.

"Come now, mon ami!" he cried on night four, "get up, get lively! Go do some crunches, or put on some dress clothes and we'll go clubbing again! I don't like you just sitting around like this, you're wasting your time and there's not much left until you have to-" he paused, his eyes widening. It was his one and only slip up in all of the six days. The only time he'd brought attention to Prussia's limitations. The man in hearing this seemed to slowly find the exit from his train of thought, red eyes drifting up to meet baby-blue ones.

"Not much time until I what?" They stared at each other for a few painfully silent seconds.

"Up, up, up!" the French man said, grabbing the other by the arm in a hasty attempt, "no motionlessness allowed unless you want your heart rate to drop again and poor Espania to give himself a heart attack. Up!" The Prussia complied, and stood, his gaze lingering oddly on France, until all at once his seriousness melted away, he seemed to forget his unanswered question, and he smiled, making a full sprint towards the kitchen. He'd suddenly decided he wanted pancakes, and called Canada for tips on how to make them so strongly maple-flavored that he didn't have to add syrup once they were done. It was a tall order, but the quiet Canadian's elder brother, and one of his best friends, were able to make it happen.

So, all things considered, the six days were nice. They were filled with the quiet pleasantries of having people there to care for him, his thoughts on his position, and Prussia's heart needed a break from the pain. It was perfect to be able to laugh with these two like nothing was wrong, and sometimes it even felt like nothing was. He enjoyed the first six days.

This was day seven.

"I think it's about time I get going home. I've been gone for a while now and Germany might start to get curious."

"What? No! You're not fully better yet, and-"

"Spain," the Prussian assured, "I promise I'll stay on my meds and report my heart rate to you weekly."

"NIGHTLY!"

"Spain."

"You really should just stay here a little longer. You still have that one cut on your eyebrow," the blond of the group added.

"It'll heal in a time that won't make Germany suspicious. If I'm back home he can stop in on me whenever he likes. I'm usually not away for this long this suddenly, guys. I don't want him to think anything unawesome has happened to his precious older bruder."

"Oh, please Prussia! We never get to see you anymore! I feel like if you leave you'll never come back!"

"Oh, whoa Francey! There's enough of this sexy to go around!"

"Well...at least let us help you pack."

"I already pulled most my stuff together last night, but okay." And the trio set off up the stairs, the albino in the lead, to make sure every last article of clothing and bottle of pills was with him in preparation for his departure.

So, sorry to break the tension here (even thought that is the purpose of this). I wanted this chapter to be a fair bit longer, so here was supposed to be one of my famous page breaks! I was going to swap subjects and have a little side story going on with the main one. However, life has kind of hit me in the face. My Grandmother just died and my mom is flying us out all of the sudden for the funeral and preparations (which is very inconvenient for me, but I can t be made at my Grandma for choosing the wrong week to die [love you G! I m just playin ]). I m going to spend a week away and then probably a month trying to catch up on said missed week in school (too many AP classes and college apps. Too little time). I figured unless I could pump out a chapter for y all real quick, you wouldn't get one for a long while, and I hardly find that fair, so this only has the one side to it. Just imagine there s some awesome start to a side story here and then proceed reading.

The trio stood in front of a duffel bag. Inside of it were t-shirts, jeans, and boxers belonging to the Albino that had slowly made their ways to Spain's house via a friendly delivery through the course of the week. There were three, now vaguely labeled bottles of medication in there too. Vague so that if Germany found them, he wouldn't have anything telling him exactly what they were. Spain gave him a stopwatch to help with counting his heart rate, and a large Tupperware full of tomato soup. Or maybe just mashed tomatoes. Sometimes with the Spaniard there wasn't a difference. France, on the other hand, had collected all the phone numbers written on random slips of paper and napkins that had been directed and Prussia, and tied them up for the man with a lewd message on what to do with each one of the girls he'd encountered at countless night clubs and bars. His bag now packed, and appearance now checked with a shower, wash of the hair, style of it thanks to France, clothes cleaned thanks to Spain, and a bold, Prussian smile on his face, the man was ready to leave.

"Okay, so we should depart tonight-" France began.

"Why wait? I'm already ready. I wanna go now. Really what's up with you guys?" The seemed to have been going to the ends of the earth and back to try to keep him in Spanish territory. He picked up his bag and threw the strap over his shoulder. One pale hand made its way towards the doorknob, but before he grabbed it, the bell rang. There was a pause as he processed, and then went to unlock and unbolt the door. He opened it, wondering just who had come to visit Spain, and froze up at what he saw.

And now at the peak of tension, that epic-awesome side story from earlier continues! Readers writhe in pain. "I want to read in order but I MUST know who s at the door!" they cry, scanning and scrolling as quickly as they can to get back to the action. And oh look, there s the action right there. Because I obviously didn t have time to actually write a subplot in here...

Prussia stumbled backwards, caught himself in-between Spain and France, and tried to straighten up and calm his bulging eyes. The man in Spain's doorway stood tall, towering over all three other men, smiling lightly. He was not someone Prussia was very fond of. He'd never say he was scared of the man, same way he'd never say he was scared of anyone, but certain things he did came off...rather odd. How he'd smile, how his face could grow so dark, how he'd occasionally throw in a cheerful, yet demented comment about something, how he so dearly cherished inanimate objects, a scarf, pipe, and sunflower, more than actual, human relations. He was disliked by many, feared by many more, and the sight of the man made Prussia's heart drop. Russia s violet eyes sparkled as he passed the threshold of the door frame, uninvited.

"I see you're already ready. What joy, Malyutka!" he said.

"Wh-wh- Ready for what? What are you doing here?"

"Oh. Malyutka, you will be coming to be staying with me now...da?" Prussia fully allowed his face to twist into confusion, which was returned by a chuckle from the Russian man in front of him. "Oh, Malyuta, don't tell me your friends did not tell you."

"...didn't tell me what?"

"Uhm, what he means is," France began, placing a hand on Prussia's shoulder, "your territory is now under Russian control."

"What territory?" Prussia snapped out of his hold and spun around to face a guilty looking French man.

"Eastern Germany. Specifically, Berlin."

"Why the East? Why would the country be torn in half?"

"Because, Malyutka," Russia took another uninvited step forward, "You and your brother were very bad. You were not being nice, and it make the world unhappy. I have volunteered to watch you; make sure you stay good. Are you not happy, Malyutka? I am thinking it will be fun!" his smile twisted into a demented, evil grin, "now we will get to play. It'll be just like old times."

Prussia thought back to these old times. Back when he was a military power worth talking about, he'd more than once backed Russia into a corner, even out-smarting his Russian winter. He defeated him time and time again, and for a moment thought the other country was pitifully weak, he thought there was no way he'd stay as geographically large as he was, and that it was only a matter of time before Manchuria, or China, or even he himself invaded and took it over. That was until one day, Russia snapped. Something in him changed; he'd lost too many times or been rejected by one too many people. He lost it, and in their next battle, Prussia recalled losing consciousness as the Russian man strangled the breath out of him, smiling and laughing all the while.

He didn't want to play that game again.

"Yea, well, I'm not going. If you want to watch over me, I'll be at home. You know where to find me." Russia chuckled again, and glanced at France, who shivered.

"Prussia, you ought to just go with him."

"Yea," Spain added, "better not to cause any problems."

Prussia, unaware of it, stood with his jaw dropped and his red eyes probing back and forth from "friend" to "friend".

They knew.

France and Spain had known this was going to happen.

France, a member of the Allies during the war, was now in partial control of Germany. If that was the case, he must've known it was just half the country! He must've known that Prussia was being used as a mascot for the other half, and there was no way he could keep something that big to himself, so he must've told Spain about it. France's words rang in his ears, 'you're wasting your time and there's not much left'. His precious time until Russia had come to collect his prize.

"Why didn't you tell me?" The question came out of his mouth with a near venomous hatred attached to it. France and Spain seemed not to have the words to answer and refused to meet his gaze.

"Mal-"

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!"

"Malyutka!" Russia set a very tight grip onto Prussia's arm. His face for just a moment mimicked that of someone angry, but he quickly caught himself and smiled deviously. The man jerked his hostage backwards, "it is not polite to yell at people. We must be going now."

"Wha-" a surge of panic ran through the albino as he found himself already overpowered. He was too weak in this new state of not existing...or maybe he was half a country now? Just half a city? He wasn't entirely sure but it wasn't doing him any favors. He tried to pry the painfully gripping hand off his bicep, but made no progress as he was essentially dragged away. He stared wide eyed at his companions, willing them to help him, but neither would look directly at him. His hand slipped off of Russia's, giving the other man an advantage. He repositioned his hand and clamped down even tighter now before twisting Prussia's arm backwards, trapping him. If he moved out of Russia s will, he'd be without a functioning arm.

"I am so excited to have you come, Malyutka! Everyone at mine will be excited to have you and your friends join us! Such a big family we will become!"

"...my friends?" Russia seemed too lost in his fantasy to answer the question, and continued to smile to himself and hum a little tune. Prussia glanced back at the safe-house he was being forced away from one last time as Spain closed his front door. He smiled wearily, and then let it shut, hiding himself in shame behind it. Prussia felt his arm slightly released then, only for Russia to lift him off the ground single-handedly, and throw him into the back seat of a truck. Before the Prussian could even process, the door was already shut and locked.

"Seatbelts, Malyutka! Wouldn't want you getting hurt yet!" Russia smiled at him through the window before walking around the truck to the driver's seat, getting in, and driving off.

Prussia's face grew blank as he lost himself in thought.

THIS IS ACTUALLY KIND OF IMPORTANT, so I m putting it first in my end note and hoping y all read it. Historically, it doesn t make any sense for Liechtenstein to be captured by Russia and taken under his control. However, I really want to throw her into the mix for these next couple chapters. Would you guys be mad if I worked her in, acting like, say, she goes to Russia s in place of her brother who lost (I don t even know if he was Axis or Allies. Did he even fight)? Or do you just want me to stick to history because I could easily do without her?

Malyutka means little one in Russian. I use it here to be equal parts expressing his dominance over Prussia, calling Prussia pitiful and tiny, and making Prussia out to be some cute play thing. Half endearing, half belittling.

And that'll be a wrap! I hope you enjoyed this chapter because, really, I did not. I think my writing quality is kind of dipping. Everything I try to write now requires multiple re-writes (this is attempt number 3) before I can even get the story lined up in a way I like. Then I go back to proof read and realize there s no emotion, I m too repetitive, I said the same adverb 9 times, etc. etc. Hopefully it goes back to being good and hitting people in the feels at some point. And hopefully my next chapter is like idk, actually complete.

There is this lovely (incomplete) story that I already know is going to do a better job of explaining Prussia and Russia's situation than I will. Unfortunately, the best stories on this website tend to go unfished *cough* Feverish omg that story was life, especially that one scene where [spoiler alert] Canada-gets-all bloody-noised-and-passes-out-and-America-has-to-give-him-CPR-and-England-is-described-as-not knowing-what-to-do-and-just-panicing.-Also-that-scene-where-England-comes-back-from-hearing-the-results-from-the-clinic-doctor-and-starts-crying-because-he s-so-relived-Canda-is-okay.-Apperantly-I-just-love-daddy-England. *cough* but this one in particular, that talks about Prussia, is called Behind the Berlin Wall by Hetaliasanguis. Some things bother me about it, like how weak Prussia can come across from time to time, but honestly it's well explained and I think I'm just picking favorites as usual. Recommend the read if you re okay with it ending on a semi-expected cliff hanger and some Prussia x Hungary towards the end. It ll give you a good idea of what I will be trying to achieve in just one or two chapters.

Since I am on my 3rd re-write, here are my starting author s notes for the last two (cause I know some of y all like to read this. Just so you know the original plot for this chapter was entirely different [BTT goes clubbing, meet a human girl who gets Prussia to open up about his feelings, and then Russia comes by at the very end for just a second] but I re wrote and then ditched it completely because it ended up being too much about the girl and even suggested a Prussia X OC ship, which is just NOT what I want right now.)

So, I like to act like making shorter chapters will make any difference. It won't. I pretty much just update when I can. I just submitted 4 college applications, and while I have other homework and other stuff to do, I feel like that merits me taking some time out to write. So here we go! The plot here is about to twist, as I warned it would in the last chapter, but nothing too drastic. We're dipping toes basically. Finally taking the focus away from people's feelings and looking more at the actual situation. Alright, so, currently on a re-write. Writing comedy is like, totally not easy and super dumb. ESPECIALLY because I'm trying to mix in a handy helping of sadness. That makes it near impossible for my writing-incompetent little brain. When I read comedy Hetalia stories I bout piss myself laughing. I don't think I'll achieve that effect here, but I'd at least like to conjure up a pity laugh. So...here we go again.
While writing: This was supposed to be BTT centric and mostly just slapstick comedy, but all that exploded and then this happened. I'm sorry, lol.