Author's note: This story comes to you courtesy of a couple really old books I have, one on the language spoken in Prussia before the Teutonic Knights came in, and one with a chapter on Old Prussian mythology. So enjoy some modern Hetalia based on forgotten history…
"Oi, wake up you Teutonic Cawx!"
Prussia shot up, eyes wide. He'd been having an awesome dream, until some creepy voice decided to wake him up. Red eyes scanned the room, finding no trace of the intruder. Frowning, the ex-nation stood up.
"Who's there?" The voice was strange, both familiar and not, and the language it spoke gnawed at the back of his mind. Prussia felt like he should know what the voice had called him, but he hadn't a clue.
"Ksesesesesesesese!" A disturbingly familiar laugh echoed around Prussia, far too similar to his own. The curtains on his window flung themselves open, allowing a beam of sunlight into the room. But the voice didn't answer Prussia's demand.
Sighing, the albino nation put a shirt on and headed upstairs. He hated it when weird things happened. It made him feel like he was losing himself- like he was starting to go crazy and dissolve, the same way Rome had.
Hopefully there's a rational explanation for this, Prussia thought as he made his way to the kitchen. Maybe West or Italy did something. Ja, that's gotta be it. Italy was playing a prank on me.
"So Vest, vere's your boy toy?" Prussia flopped into a chair, grinning at his younger brother. Germany grunted, not so much as looking up from the sausages he was cooking.
"Italien didn't stay over last night."
"So it vas you who yelled at me to get up," Prussia groaned. "Not awesome Bruderlein. I don't need to be up yet."
"I didn't yell at you." Germany froze, concern creasing his forehead. "Are you sure it vasn't part of your dream Bruder?" The blond knew about Prussia's fear of losing himself.
"Nein! Why would ze awesome me dream of invisible voices insulting mein awesomeness in languages I don't know?" Prussia dropped his head onto the table with a groan.
"Vell Vest, I guess zis is it. I'm losing it. Goodbye Bruderlein."
"You're not going to dissolve." Germany abandoned his cooking and forced Prussia to look up at him. "Listen, zere must be anozer explanation. You've lasted zis long, so zere's no reason for you to up und disappear now. Ve chust have to figure out vat happened."
Prussia sighed, hoping his brother was right. Then he felt something poke his ribs. He tried to ignore it, but it poked him again. And again. The poking grew more rapid and rougher, until it was more like a midget trying to beat him up. Prussia glared at Germany.
"Cut it out Vest!"
"Cut vat out?" Germany looked confused. "I'm not doing anyzing."
"Ja you are! Stop poking mein awesomeness!" Prussia jumped back, but the poking continued even after he was out of Germany's reach. A disembodied giggle floated to the ex-nation's ears.
Prussia buried his face in his hands. "Mein Gott! See Vest, I'm going crazy. Tell Italien I'll say hallo to Rome for him."
Before Germany could say anything, the voice spoke. "Oh, quit whining Cawx! I knew you were Auklextes, but I didn't think you were dumb too. You're not gonna die!"
Both Prussia and Germany were stricken dumb. The brothers looked around the kitchen, then at each other. Prussia saw shock in Germany's face.
"Vere did zat voice come from?"
"You can hear it too?" Prussia's knees went weak with relief. He oozed into a puddle of awesomeness on the floor. "Okay, I'm not crazy. I'm chust being haunted by some un-awesome ghost."
Germany took a much more aggressive stance against the voice. Grabbing a frying pan, he brandished it with almost Hungarian menace. "I don't know who you are or how you got into our house but I demand you show yourself!" A violet aura began to seep from the tall blond.
"How about no?" the voice snarked. For a moment nothing happened. The one of Prussia's diaries floated into the room; presumably the voice had gone and grabbed it. Prussia flushed red with embarrassment.
"Hey, vat do you zink you're doing? Put zat back!"
"Never, Waldwico Crawx!" The voice blew a raspberry at the end of its outburst. Prussia glared at the floating diary.
"If you're going to insult ze awesome me, at least use words I understand!"
"I don't want to! Besides, if that head of yours had anything else in it but Sulo, you'd be able to remember what I'm saying, Pruten."
The words itched. Prussia was sure he'd heard them somewhere before, that he should be able to understand what this voice was calling him, but the meaning slipped away like a fish. The ex-nation groaned and decided a beer was in order. It was too early in the morning to deal with this.
As soon as he started to drink the beer he'd retrieved, Prussia spat it out. It tasted like someone had dumped hot sauce in it! But that was impossible; the bottle had been sealed…
"Ksesesesesesese! Oops!" The invisible voice sounded like it was grinning. Prussia glared at his floating diary.
"Enough! Un-awesome ghost, I demand zat you leave ze awesome me alone!" Giving up any idea of having a peaceful breakfast, Prussia marched downstairs to get properly dressed.
I guess I'll go to the meeting with West. Maybe the stupid ghost thing will leave me alone with England, Norway, and Romania around. And if it doesn't, one of them will know how to get rid of it.
Of course, when Prussia proposed this idea to Germany, the blond was far from happy. Still, there was nothing he could do to keep the ex-nation out of a World Meeting. Prussia was still part of the world after all, even if he wasn't an official country anymore.
They drove more or less in silence. Prussia was reviewing Germany's notes; contrary to popular belief, he was more than just a freeloader. While he didn't have any say in policies or anything, Prussia did make a point of proofreading all of Germany's work. It made him feel useful.
After a while Prussia sighed with relief. It seemed the voice had been left at the house. No sooner had he thought that, though, than he was proven wrong. A familiar snarky, odd accent filled Germany's car. It seemed to be coming from the back seat, but since the speaker was invisible, there was no way to be sure.
"Flames glowed bright on my mountain at night
Not a Christian to be seen
A kingdom in isolation
And my priest was like a king
Then your knights came and my people were forced to hide
See, we couldn't win, oh you know we tried
Don't let them win, don't let them see
Keep your faith, no don't you forget me
They kill, but still, they never learn
Now it's my turn!"
Prussia started to get a bad feeling. The song… It may have been a parody of a Disney tune, but the new words hit far too close to home. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought it was about how he went from the Order of Teutonic Knights to being a country.
"Let it burn! Let it burn!
Don't ignore me anymore!
Let it burn! Let it burn!
Your One God is such a bore!
You must pay
For the blood you spilled!
No one keeps me down
I am the god of a faith you killed."
Flames burst from the engine of Germany's car. Both nations yelled in surprise, bailing out of the car as soon as Germany slowed it down enough. The burning Volkswagen trundled off the side of the road and smashed into a tree. Staring at the glowing flames, Prussia couldn't help but tremble.
"Preussen," Germany spoke quietly, nervous of the invisible spirit. "Vas- vas zat zing trying to kill us?"
"Nein. Chust me." Prussia stood up slowly. "Change of plans Vest. I'm not coming to ze meeting; ze awesome me needs to figure out vat's going on."
"You could just ask," the invisible voice snapped. "Percunis, you're as dumb as you are bloodthirsty."
Prussia froze at that. No one had called him bloodthirsty in centuries, not even Austria. Warmonger, yes, and arrogant, inappropriate, reckless, trigger-happy… but not bloodthirsty. The last person to call him that was a pagan priest he'd met during his days as the Order of Teutonic Knights.
Terrified, Prussia backed away. Unfortunately he managed to back into a tree, and he had no way to get around it without taking his eyes off the burning wreckage of Germany's car. Not that he could see the voice any better than before, but his instincts screamed not to turn his back nevertheless.
Flames leapt up from nowhere, flying at Prussia's face. The ex-nation shrieked and shut his eyes; the insides of his eyelids glowed orange. As he waited for the scorching fire, a memory began to play itself back in Prussia's mind.
Grinning, the Order of Teutonic Knights stood over the pagan priest. The fledgling nation had been growing rapidly as he and his men marched northeast, bringing the word of God to the barbarian lands. They had been ordered to Christianize the land referred to as Prusse or Pruten, a land inhabited by pagan Baltic tribes.
Teutonic Knights had already duelled and beaten the personification of Pruten. This land was his; his knights had already started calling it, and him, Prussia. All that was left was the mopping up of pagan religious leaders like the old man beneath him.
The man had been found by a giant fire pit. He was the priest of some sort of nature deity, a spirit of fire, mischief, and law. How those three fit together was something Teutonic Knights didn't want to think about. The priest refused to identify himself or convert, or even to speak any intelligible words. All he did was mutter "Criwe, Criwe" over and over.
But the pagan people respected this rambling old man. Teutonic Knights knew that killing the priest would break the resistance and cement his claim to this land and people. So the personification pulled out his sword and prepared to execute his foe.
Just before the sword came down, the old priest looked up at Teutonic Knights. The nation froze, captivated by the sadness in those surreal blue eyes. The priest sighed, his silver brows creasing with a small frown.
"It's a pity one so young had to be so bloodthirsty. If that's what this church of yours teaches, Criwe pities your people."
Blood splashed across the ground, and the old man's eyes closed for the final time. Prussia wiped his sword clean on the priest's robes and turned to his men. Raising his sword above his head, the young nation rallied his men. They had one last fortress to march on, then their mission would be complete. This country would be theirs.
The fire never touched Prussia's face. Opening his eyes, the ex-nation saw what appeared to be a flaming fist floating in front of his face. He still couldn't see who it was attached to, but he could hear them. Shuddering sobs wracked the invisible entity; hot tear spilled from nowhere to sizzle on the ground.
"I can't." The fiery fist disappeared. "I thought it would make me feel better, but it doesn't. It wasn't your fault; I know your kind can't go against what your people want. I just wish- I just wish I could've saved them!"
Invisible arms wrapped around Prussia. The personification found himself being hugged by a person who felt about his size, their tears soaking through his shirt. Muffled sobs formed words against his shoulder.
"All these years I've been planning, studying, trying to find a way to avenge my people. But killing you won't solve anything, will it? It won't bring them back. Nothing will. I'm sorry Pruten, so sorry."
Awkwardly patting the invisible person's back, Prussia shot a questioning look at Germany. The blond shrugged. Neither personification had a clue what was going on. After a moment, Prussia cleared his throat.
"So, vat are you exactly?"
"A myth you erased from history," the voice whimpered. "I was a god; nobody remembers that now though. With all my worshippers dead, I'm just a spark. My purpose, my people, they're all gone."
Prussia knew how the voice felt all too well. When his country had been dissolved, he'd been cast adrift. His fear of disappearing was magnified by the seeming determination of some nations to erase him from history; Prussia had spent decades swinging between depression and anger. If he hadn't had Germany to help him, he likely would have turned out similarly to the sobbing, broken thing in his arms.
Colours began to glow against Prussia's chest. A face took shape, followed by a body. The dead god had the shape of a young man, though his skin was bright orange and his hair was as yellow as the sun. Eyes of deepest blue glistened with tears that seemed to boil. And under Prussia's hands a pair of folded wings took shape, the feathers made of red and pink flames.
"I'm Criwe," the strange being whispered, "Spirit of fire, mischief, and law." Criwe turned to look at Germany. "And I'm sorry I wrecked your metal carriage. I was just so angry…"
Germany edged over, obviously wary of the fire spirit. He was frowning, trying to figure out what was going on; Germany hated not having an explanation. The blond nation didn't believe in magic like England or Norway. Not that Criwe was giving him any choice.
Criwe pulled away from Prussia, wiping away tears as he stood. "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble. I'll go now."
Flaming wings spread wide to take off. But before the spirit could leave, Prussia grabbed his wrist. It was worryingly thin, just like Prussia had been when Russia had returned him to Germany after the Berlin Wall fell. Criwe really had been focusing on vengeance alone.
"Stay," Prussia said. It was neither a question nor an order. "We dead ideals should stick togezer, ja? Besides, you don't look like you know how to look after yourself vizout your people. You need mein awesome help."
Confused blue eyes met Prussia's gaze with a frown. "But I just tried to kill you…"
"Ksesesesesesesese! I'm a nation; if I didn't forgive ozers who attacked ze awesome me, I vouldn't have any friends left. Vat you did vas no different zan ven Frankreich und Ich used to fight each ozer. Come on, you can live viz me und Vest."
Germany shot Prussia a worried look. "Bruder…"
"Please Vest!" Prussia pouted. "Chust look at him. He's so cute! Like a little bird! Ve need to take care of him like you took care of me ven I first came home, so he can get strong und awesome like me."
Sighing, Germany looked from Prussia's pout to Criwe's confused face. "Fine. He claims to be a spirit of law after all; he shouldn't be too much trouble."
-Epilogue:-
"Preussen! Crive!" Germany's angry roar echoed throughout the house. Criwe and Prussia crouched in a closet, their identical laughs muffled behind their hands. It had been a year since the fire spirit had come to live with the German brothers, and it looked like he was going to be a permanent addition to the household. Germany was less happy with this on some days than others.
Right now he was extremely unhappy. Prussia and Criwe had hidden all of Germany's clothes, replacing them with rubber boots, party pants, and sparkling accessories. It wasn't the first time this had happened; Criwe was worse than Prussia when he got bored. And with his affinity for fire, mischief, and law, some of the spirit's pranks could be… interesting, to say the least.
"Ksesesesesese! You're awesome!" Prussia whispered. "I can't believe I ever tried to get rid of an awesome god like you. Sheisse, if I still had ze land, I'd go re-light you're eternal flame zing myself."
"Thanks Pruten." Criwe smiled. "And thanks for taking me in after I attacked you."
"Danke for not killing me ven you did."
Old Prussian Terms:
Cawx- devil
Auklextes- the waste left over after wheat is winnowed; Criwe uses it as an insult to mean unwanted or unneeded
Sulo- curdled milk
Pruten- one of several possible Old Prussian names for Prussia
Criwe- a figure in Old Prussian society with ambiguous identity; my book alternately referred to him as a chieftain of some sort, a priest, a fire god, a god of mischief, or a god of law. I decided to combine these roles, although that just turned him into a dead god with a confusing set of powers.
I know this wasn't my best work. I confess, I didn't have a plot really when I wrote this. I just wanted to do something with what I know of Old Prussia.