Consanguinity

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the positive feedback on the first chapter! I hope you'll find this installment to your liking too.

I chose to begin Consanguinity with the year 1937 because it was the start of so many things, most notably- the Spanish Civil War. I wrote a little prelude for it in this chapter, but next time Prussia will actually be in Spain, and I am really excited to write his interactions with Antonio. Also in this chapter will be Prussia talking to his former king, Old Fritz (ie. Frederick the Great) in Garrison Church- the place he was buried before WWII started.

I've also been asked very kindly to write some of this story in Germany's point of view from a reader on Deviant Art, so tell me what you guys think. Again, I welcome any reviews, so please leave some suggestions!

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Act Two: Spitfire

Garrison Church was not a beautiful place by any means, but it was simply what it held within its walls that made Prussia come to it at least once a week- or more, if he had not as much work as he did on hand. Normally he wouldn't have hesitated to push aside all that for his intention, but it was the very thing- person- that he went there for which prevented him from shirking (and maybe save him from a few hours' worth of lecture from Ludwig). The eyes that he had always held in his mind and the fires that had been lit within those long gone greys had still had the same effect on him even if they were two hundred years away. Fritz would have not approved if he ditched duty just to talk to a coffin. Even if that coffin contained what used to be him, or at least- what was left of him.

If the idea of speaking to an inanimate object seemed to anyone else almost insane, it was not so to Prussia. There was always a lingering part of his soul that still had held a trace of the sentimentality he had long since grown out of- and it was because of that pocket maybe, and his devotion to anything related to his former king as well as his reluctance to see him as truly dead and gone that fueled the…habit. Duty. Responsibility. Gilbert didn't regret the notion of having one on one conversations with the man whom he owed everything, even if it meant not ever receiving a verbal response. That aspect didn't matter though. He still knew his king well enough to know what he'd say back, even as unpredictable as the man had been.

Despite the hundred and fourty- eight years since the world had last known Frederick the Great, he remained as always as he were to his nation: a pillar of consolidation and remembrance of the halcyon days that had passed, but a memory that Prussia would always hold in his heart.

He ignored the intimidated looks directed to him by some of the people in the church as he entered through the gates, knowing that his Wehrmacht uniform, though not as open a declaration of hostility as opposed to the black SS one, still struck some degree of fear into this slight minority of the populace who refused to concede to the Nazi teachings. Not that he cared. They probably thought he was a spy or something since he came so often, passing over the service- or maybe just an eccentric, if any ever gathered the nerve to follow him down to where Fritz's tomb was.

Of course they wouldn't. The gun he had strapped at his side was warning enough, and the Night of the Long Knives had already thought those who had brain that most with that kind of weapon weren't afraid to actually use it- not that he actually would of course. They were after all, his own people- those who made up his flesh and blood. Kill German citizens? Never. He wouldn't even try to seriously bluff such a thing, let alone attempt it. It would be like carving chunks of his body out. No one sane would attempt such a sacrilege.

So only looking ahead, it wasn't long before he found himself in that familiar room again- so familiar to him that he could tell from the lines of the shadows exactly what was what, in spite of the darkness. Taking slow steps towards the resting place of his former ruler, he removed his hat and paused for a few seconds in front of it before speaking.

"You know, Fritz-" Gilbert broke the silence as he traced some lines on the old sarcophagus, bowing his head a little as he did so, "Sometimes I wonder what you would think if you decided to pop out of nowhere into this place that's the present. I think you would be disappointed in me, or at least, pissed at the films they decided to make on you for propaganda.

"You know I've never cared too much about your "Enlightened Ideals" or whatever you called them- some French I couldn't remember. It's always been the fight with me- wars and conquest. I just never thought that I'd come to where I am now. You would probably hate the Nazis. I mean, I don't hate them as much as I dislike their regime, but I'm not a politician and you know that. I'm just fucking dubious over what Hitler would do to the country. He hasn't even so far as started on those plans of his yet, and looking at where Ludwig is now- how would he be once they're all done?"

He imagined the sunlit rooms of Sans Souci, the gardens, the trills of the flute that Fritz had been so fond of, and laughed a little after that, and it held no humour. It was a bitter laugh of regret on the things that had passed. Though Gilbert was hardly one to cling onto the past and mourn for what had been, he thought that he was still allowed to show some resentment at the present day.

"I don't want to lose my brother. He's sort of everything I have and fucking had and who I did everything for. I'm worried but he doesn't care. I don't know what more I'm supposed to do either."

They were rebuilding an empire, not the last Reich of iron and blood, but a new one that Hitler swore would not fall in a thousand years. They were boastful words, but who else offered better besides he? Germany had been the first to fall under the spell, and then in a sense Prussia too, although not totally. He never really wanted to mind those matters. His mind was purely set on the notion of revenge against the nations who had dared humiliated the both of them so, at least at first. The dictatorship after the fall of the Republic wasn't something he minded too much either. He had been controlled by autocrats for centuries since his creation, so what was the difference?

In fact, if maybe the Nazis had imposed less on appearance Prussia would have been exactly the same as Germany right now. Or maybe if Prussia hadn't been born the way he was and instead like West, the finest stock of the Aryan label. Even though a so called "exception" had been made for him, it still pissed him off when he knew in any other situation, he would have been regarded as sub-human and a waste of life.

Prussia was not one to like being called anything less than awesome, especially by a short Austrian with a ridiculous mustache who fancied himself to be a gift sent by Divinity.

"Listen… I'm still sorry," he continued speaking, "I know I've been apologizing for years now, but I swear to you that I'll find some way to bring Silesia back from Feliks. But I'm- no, West and I aren't strong enough yet. We're still getting over the last war, but I promise you that… I'll reclaim Silesia. Silesia if not anything else."

Don't push yourself too hard. Fritz would say, those grey eyes of his narrowed in concern, A failure of a strategy is usually due to impulsive rashness.

Of course, that was if Fritz would forgive him at all for joining in on the Nazi regime. He didn't have a choice though. Surely his king would understand in Heaven or whatever place he was now.

And if he didn't, well…

Gilbert wouldn't know what to do with himself if Fritz out of all the people that he had ever known turned his back on the nation that was once his.

"What did you want me for, West?" Gilbert asked as he walked into Ludwig's office, flashing a predatory grin at the pretty brunette that was typing out something on the typewriter near the door as he did so. In truth though, he was curious. It wasn't exactly common that Germany gave him a summons on any occasion excepting some emergency or the other he couldn't exactly take care of right on hand.

The younger German's working space was the very personification of clean and tidy- nothing like the messiness of his brother's, though in defence Prussia did work better if the environment was more tailored to his liking. Innerly, he felt bad for whoever was in charge of cleaning the place to fit Ludwig's slightly morbid OCD tendencies when it came to straightening the office up. If not anything, the blond still retained the ability to freak out like as if they had just been bombed by Farman F.220's whenever he found a tarnish on anything that was his. Prussia always had sniggering moments when he thought of it.

But the laughs died when Germany raised his eyes in an impassive manner and told him that one of their warships had been damaged in Spain- the Deutschland, one of the best that was stationed there, twenty six dead and seventy one injured in total- not heavy casualties, but it made the pit in Gilbert's stomach widen just the same.

The civil war in Spain had been getting from bad to worse as the months passed. It started with the disposal of the Spanish royalty and the autocracy of the nation becoming instead a republic. But then, a man who went by the name of Francisco Franco- who was also a veteran general stationed in Morocco- took the moment to try to attempt a double coup, so to instead turn Spain into something no less than a military dictatorship… not unlike the one operating in Germany. So Hitler, enthusiastic to support Franco for political reasons had sent forces into Spain to help the general seize power there, and therefore making Germany a vital player in the civil war.

The Republicans had been actually able to resist the Nationalist faction quite well, despite the constant air raids by the Luftwaffe and the overall superiority of Franco's army that they were facing. They focused on guerilla warfare, which did a lot more damage than anyone had thought before hand- and they all fought like men who had nothing left to lose, which made up for some of their lacking in the technical field. It was safe to say that without German reinforcements, Franco would not be in a good position right now.

But even then, Germany was also losing men to the civil war. Gilbert always had disliked the notion for fighting a battle that would not aid himself in anyway, but he wouldn't deny the fact that despite the participation in Spain's internal conflict may not have bought too much gain to his country on the surface, but it did beneath. Germany had said that it would make Antonio a definite future ally should the Nationalists win, and he himself had realized the golden opportunity to test out their new prototype weapons on the field against real people.

Their army- the one thing that Prussia had always looked on as more important than almost all that anything else had to offer- was rebuilding itself fast after Versailles had stripped them of what had before been a national source of pride. It was perhaps the only thing that Prussia had to thank the Nazis for, and that he was grateful to the Nazis for.

And when time came, they wouldn't have to grovel at Britain's and France's feet anymore- or fear the Communists of the USSR and their influence over Europe. If there was anything that Prussia hated more than the National Socialists, it was Russia- or the Soviet Union or whatever the hell he was called now. Kunersdorf still hadn't left his mind.

Going back to the original situation on hand: "You're fucking kidding me. How did that even happen?"

"Air raid. The anti-aircraft guns manage to shoot down a few, but the men were taken by surprise." Ludwig folded his hands together, as if he was afraid he might start fidgeting with them or something, "That is not all the bad news, brother."

"Is there more?"

"Yes. We have just gotten note that Stalin may very well be planning to assist the Leftists so that they may continue to tyrannize Spain and leave it to rot under Communist legislation."

Like that would make any difference from Franco if he took over instead. Prussia nearly snorted, but didn't voice the thought aloud. He was very well aware that to say that would mean treason, and the walls seemed to have grown ears lately around Berlin. Plus, that would piss Ludwig off, and Ludwig pissed off was hardly a desirable thing among anyone sane.

Still, he didn't really care. What was there was the war. It didn't matter who the hell he was fighting for- but they were fighting, and that was that. As long as the Nationalists were at the Republicans' throats, they had to ensure that the latter faction did not lose or that would be utter humiliation again. A humiliation that Germany could ill afford to suffer at this delicate time.

"That's really none of my concern unless the USSR starts sending in troops. I leave the diplomatic issues to you for taming, but I doubt Stalin would actually afford to do anything. I mean, their political regime is unsteady enough. I think that the bastard would need his army at hand if he wants to keep those generals of his from overthrowing him." Gilbert said instead, "At the most, they'll ship some weapons and shit, but looking at the way the Republicans are bottled up, I don't think it makes a difference."

The blond blinked slowly, "I see. However, I will contradict you on that. You are right on the army not aiding and the USSR engaging in selling weapons, but that's not accounting the volunteers from Russia, Mexico, and other countries like Britain. What can be confirmed is they are a weak, untrained force with no match against the Condor Legion and our mechanized forces. However, what can also be certain is that they can stall."

Stalling meant for the war to be dragged on. The war dragging on meant a constant drain to finances, money that could be spared but would come handy in many other places. Though it was an excellent training ground for the army, the economic factor was not that easy to look in the eye.

And besides, the situation in Spain was a muddle. No one knew exactly what was going on, or even more than the basic progress of the war. It was a faraway occasion- almost entirely non existent, if one could overlook the cash drain.

"So what do you want me to do about it?"

He knew the answer to that already, but the words had to come from Ludwig's mouth. After all, why else would his brother tell him to come to his office and suddenly bring on a conversation like this up? Even he wasn't that dense.

"I want you to go to Spain for a while to overlook the operations and inform the High Command of their exact status," Germany stood up and handed him a folder, "You will report back in two months exactly. The details are enclosed."

And that was that. Turns out, there was a way out of the paperwork after all.

Please leave a review! And like I said, I'll try to update as soon as I can. Usually you know, feedback gives me more motivation, just saying. All authors live on it. Even a little "good job" would make my day.

Notes:

1) Frederick the Great, aka "Old Fritz" was Prussia's king from 1740- 1786. He was considered the greatest of the Prussian kings and managed to wage many wars against the powerful neighboring countries of the Austrian Empire and the Russian Empire, as well as Sweden, France, and many of the German states like Bavaria and Saxony to seize Silesia for Prussia. Later, he also managed to unite East Prussia with Brandenburg proper in the partitions of Poland. He also appears in the Hetalia manga, though not the anime.

2) Farman F.220's were heavy bombers that the French used.

3) Kunersdorf was a battle in the Seven Years' War where the Prussians faced the Russians, and the Prussians were totally just massacred when it was over. It was not fun stuff, and one of Prussia's worst military defeats.

4) Germany actually spent 215 000 000 US dollars in today's money on the Spanish Civil War, thus the note on the finances. The Condor Legion was the force that the Wehrmacht provided- with full air support- to aid the Nationalists in the fighting.

5) The Spanish Civil War was indeed where the Germans tested out their new weaponry for the first time in actual combat. One of the main reasons that they even engaged in the war was that opportunity, since the Versailles treaty banned them from having an air force or any tanks at all (which was ignored to no consequence).