Gah, couldn't update for days, but now I finally found out how to avoid that damn error. Google is my friend, hehe xD Anyway, thanks for the reviews, faves... :) And finally-

...last chapter! A big thanks goes to the awesome friend who helped me with the French - I would've been lost without you! Prepare for lots of translations in the notes...but keeping it obscure as this rather than putting them in directly was necessary to keep up the POV, so bear with me here (still wishing I knew French myself, but meh).

3. Of Solution

Ludwig froze, and while his mind screamed for him to move, do something, it felt like running against an invisible wall of growing panic he could not cross.

He stared, and the man, towering over him by about a head, merely mimicked him. It occurred to Ludwig then that surprisingly, the other didn't look scared in the least. In fact, while sapphire blue eyes had briefly focused on the gun being poised directly above, they had quickly settled on him again, full of curiosity, but not fear.

He did not look what he imagined an enemy to look like, either. Granted, Ludwig had seen a number of young, somewhat decent looking soldiers today, had seen them killed, but none of them had succeeded in destroying the clichéd image of a Frenchman he'd had in mind. Propaganda was a powerful means.

He shoved the issue to the back of his mind as quickly as possible. Strikingly handsome or not, this man obviously meant harm.

Ludwig took a deep breath. It wouldn't take much, a tug of his finger, and-

He wasn't given the time to act when the man simply nudged the weapon aside and pushed past him, primly kneeling down next to Prussia.

The realization of being ignored sunk in only slowly, but became an obvious fact soon enough.

"Tu es tellement un imbécile, Gilbert."

It had happened so quickly that Ludwig nearly forgot to respond, to do something, anything. It was hearing the soldier speak, speak to his brother while turning his back on him, Ludwig, that snapped him out of his state of shock.

"H-Heh!" he yelled, taking a cautious step forward, "What do you think you're doing?"

No reaction, at least none to his words. The stranger leant over, almost as if to inspect Prussia's wounds. In fact, hadn't Ludwig known better than to believe in a digressiveness as that, he would have found there was something caring to the Frenchman's movements as he adjusted his brother's arm so as to lie comfortably, lowered his head, presumably to listen for a heartbeat, or faint intakes of breath.

Curtly, Ludwig was surprised at the thought of such intentions, and struggled with an explanation until one that actually sounded plausible finally formed in his mind - was it because the other needed to know whether he still had to finish the Prussian off for good?

Yes, yes, that had to be it.

At that, a new gush of hatred soared through Ludwig as he lunged out, pulling the Frenchman back by the blue fabric of his uniform.

"Don't touch him!"

It was the surprise effect and nothing else that made it even possible for him to stand up against someone who was probably a trained soldier, yanking the man backwards and finally getting him to look at him, fear him. With the Frenchman's crouched position, Ludwig now towered above him, lifted his gun again -

His finger tapped around, searching for the trigger, eventually curling around it –

Two pairs of blue eyes widening –

Nothing, save for a soft click.

Ludwig pulled the trigger, again, and again, until realization, as shattering and alarming as can be, finally settled.

A single shot. Only one. And he had already wasted as much.

"Nein- nein nein nein…"

In a burst of despair, he threw the useless gun aside. It landed on the cobblestones with a hollow clonk accompanying the impact. After that, there was only waiting.

Waiting for something to happen.

It wasn't until now that he cared to truly look at the man that would possibly take his life away in a few moments, trained to be able to do so even without a weapon. There was no reason for the Frenchman not to kill him, and Ludwig did not admit himself to illusions for a second.

Abruptly, a larger, calloused hand clasped around his wrist, but, already having given in to his fate, Ludwig made no resistance.

The man's eyes were an extraordinary shade of sapphire, within a face that was unmistakably of what one would call sculpted features, handsome even as dirty and marred. His hair was longer than what suited the norm, and he wore no helmet, had probably lost it sometime during the day, like so many others – yet, he had made it through, without a rifle, without a helmet. Ludwig was stunned, through all the hatred he was subliminally experiencing, not knowing whether there were any rational reasons behind it.

Probably not –

"Allemagne?"

Surprised at first, it eventually occurred to Ludwig that he knew that word. He knew it. And yet he could not put his finger on it, could only stare on dumbly, wondering what the other was insinuating. There had to be a reason, a reason to explain why their encounter had not followed the simple guide line for enemies meeting so far, had elided the principle of shoot, kill, and move on.

"Was?"

Was it because he was so young, and had happened upon a man actually appreciating morals - ?

A quiet sigh, a simple gesture - the stranger pointing a finger at himself - and the word uttered with it explained it all.

"Frankreich."

A statement that could be misread, could hint at something entirely else, had Ludwig not been whom the other suspected him to be. Yet he was.

Fragments of a theory that had not quite seemed believable fell into place, and Ludwig realized how blind he had been, eyes widening in sudden understanding.

France.

It was an uncanny revelation, even though it did not change his predicament in the slightest, but even validated what he had already thought of as consolidated – just that now, they were equals, in several ways.

Hastily, shocked as he was, Ludwig tried to recall anything Prussia had ever told him about the other nation, the nation they were currently at war with, even though it had never been much to begin with.

Devoted member of nobility.

Rarely ever as devoted a soldier.

That was it. Just like that, Ludwig suddenly felt he was superior, if not in age, in knowledge, then in persistence about this. Suddenly there seemed to be a chance for him – them, him and his brother – to get out of this alive.

"Get away from him! Get away from here!" he snarled, emphasizing the words of which he didn't know if France understood them at all with a succession of snatchy gestures, directed at his brother's unmoving body lying a mere meter from them.

A disbelieving expression was the answer he received. France got to his feet, attempting an explanation but stopping midsentence when the pointlessness of it occurred to him. He shrugged almost helplessly.

But as though Ludwig's subconsciousness had actually got the message, after all, another fact about his opponent came to mind.

Truth to be told, he's not…a bad person himself.

What he had brushed off as marginal back then was what eventually induced his change in attitude, imagining the sentence spoken inside his head as vibrant and true-to-life as though Prussia was standing next to him.

And all of a sudden, they were no longer enemies facing each other off in battle.
Through all the animosity Ludwig still felt, he felt above all that they were but bystanders, in one way or another, had met by an odd twist of fate rather than personal ambitions.

Along with it, he noticed suddenly that France did not look healthy at all, exertion and worry clearly visible to anyone who looked closely enough.

What he also noticed was that he, Ludwig, needed his help.

Something passed between them that was not quite mutual understanding, but came close enough to it for both of them to relax visibly.

France gestured towards Prussia, obviously deep in thought over how to bring across his intentions. Ludwig cocked his head, clueless, until France sighed and primly hoisted Prussia up, weakened state making him struggle with holding the other upwards.

And Ludwig understood.

"I'll be back in a minute!" he yelled, almost as if to reassure himself, rather than the older nation.

He didn't know how he could even muster the courage needed to round one street corner after another, swiveling to take a look at every niche, ignoring the occasional soldiers and barricades he ran past. However, and even though he had not gone that far, hope was slowly diminishing, and only seconds before giving up on his search did his eyes make out the familiar silhouette of his horse, standing perfectly still at the edge of the street. As though having sensed it was still needed, it had not actually fled, leaving the village.

He suppressed the urge to cheer, and settled for a sigh, relieved beyond measure, and approached the mare.

Swiftly having straightened the harness and saddle, with a newfound focus he'd acquired solely by having something to occupy his mind with again, he mounted the horse and urged it onwards, backtracking the way he'd taken.

France hadn't moved far from where he'd left him, but had placed Prussia on the ground again, seemingly tending some of his wounds now. From what Ludwig could see, a deep cut had engrailed itself into his brother's forearm, and he was shocked to see he'd overlooked something as that. Almost embarrassed, he slid out of the saddle, feet clumsily landing on the ground with a heavy thud, and crouched down next to France. The older man was currently in the midst of cleaning the wound as deliberately as possible, before bandaging it with a shredded piece of blue cloth Ludwig recognized as part of his uniform. As if to affirm his suspicions, the next thing he noticed was that one sleeve of France's uniform had, in fact, partly been ripped off.

France didn't look up just once, until he was done with his task. Then, he threw Ludwig a quick glance, mentioning for him to help him lift Prussia onto the horse.

They snuck out of town almost secretly, with anyone who might have had the chance to notice them being far too distracted to pay attention to the odd group of three passing them.

Ludwig hadn't thought he'd actually end up feeling sorry France, but here he was. It wasn't that the older nation tried to let it on, but there were moments when he had to lean against whatever wall was near, taking a shuddering breath as though restricted by wounds himself and looking up, seemingly asking, What next?

Seconds after, however, he was always back to normal again, walking on as though nothing had happened. Even though he did it surreptitiously enough, Ludwig at times caught him staring at him. Maybe, after all, France was just as confused about their current situation as he was, temporarily allied for nothing but the purpose of helping the same person.

Prussia had yet to wake up, even as softly shaken back and forth in his slumped, knocked out position on the horse. A simple string of blood and saliva dribbled from his slightly agape mouth, and while Ludwig was still in the process of raising his hand France had already wiped the bit of drool off, whisking his thumb clean on his already ruined uniform afterwards.

It was ironic, seeing how it was a simple, yet nearly tender gesture such as this that made Ludwig realize the obvious.

Friends. His brother and France were friends. Or had been, at some point.

He was still unable to think of anything but when not much later, France gestured for him him to stop in front of a lone house, astray from the actual village and hidden behind a row of trees, surrounded by untouched nature that planted the wish in Ludwig to throw himself into the grass, stay there and block out anything else.

It had been a long day.

France suavely knocked on the door. Moments later, it was opened by a middle-aged woman with light brown hair kept in a lose braid, dressed in a bleached gown that might have been blue in the past, but had taken on a grayish tone over the years. Her fingers were knotty from days spent outside, working hard, but a relieved smile spread on her face upon seeing France.

"Monsieur Bonnefoy!" she cried out, throwing her thin, veiny arms around him and pulling him into a hug, to which France responded by chuckling quietly and kissing her on both cheeks before turning back to Ludwig, who had watched the scene with the distinct feeling of intruding into a moment not meant for him to witness.

He was sure he and his brother were just about the last people the woman wanted to encounter right now, and asked himself why exactly France had decided to lead him here.

Had it been a trap after all-

"C'est... un distant membre de la famille de moi. Son frère est blessé, et il a besoin quelque part pour se reposer." The sentence uttered quietly, almost humbly by France brought him back to reality, and he strained to read something out of it, no matter how trivial.

The woman furrowed her brow, questioning, as she took a step forward to muster first Ludwig and then Prussia, frowning a little at the lack of bandages and the dried blood before taking notice of something else, as it seemed to Ludwig.

"Mais- mais- il est un de ces- ces Prusses!"

France smiled sadly.

"Il est pourtant un ami."– his expression turned into something almost pleading – "Il ne mourra pas, il a simplement besoin de se reposer. S'il vous plaît, c'est tout que je demande-"

The woman gave a defeated smile. "Je vous revaux après que tout que vous avez fait pour nous. J'espérais que la faveure que vous me demanderiez serais quelque chose d'autre, mais- je crois que c'est le moins que je peux faire."

"Merci", France said softly.

Ludwig could only guess what the conversation had been about. When France began to pull Prussia off the horse, though, managing to hold him upwards only just so, Ludwig realized the other must have achieved what he wanted and hurried to his side to help him prop up his brother.

Prussia mumbled in his unconsciousness, head lolling from one side to the other. Still, he showed no sign of awakening. It worried Ludwig, but the feeling was controllable, now that he was no longer alone. France gave him a curt glance, nodding.

Inside, the cottage was dark and musty, but provided the homely atmosphere Ludwig realized he'd missed throughout his days spent alone, in houses that had never been more to him than temporary abodes. They half carried, half dragged Prussia through the room, briefly coming to a halt in front of a door France opened unerringly.

Letting his curiosity get the better of him, Ludwig left his brother's side to catch a glimpse of the room before France could, face falling when he saw there was nothing special about it at all – a simple, oblong room furnished with a chair, a provisory bed, a stool, light streaming in through a small window. What exactly had he expected, anyway? Great luxury to repay them for what they'd lived through, to make Prussia better again in an instant? It would do. It was more than he could have asked for.

France carefully laid Prussia down on the mattress, before allowing himself to slump down on the edge of it as well, rubbing his forehead in obvious exhaustion. Out of nowhere, a cut had sliced across his palm, and he stared at it numbly before nonchalantly wiping his hand clean on his battered uniform. Ludwig winced, but it was more due to the coldness with which the gesture was carried out than the overall situation, namely France suffering from the effects of a battle that had just entered the process of coming to an end.

As it was, he had not quite managed to wrap his mind around the concept of it so far.

Minutes passed in which neither of them said a word, minutes of silent observing and musing on the future. And eventually-

"Danke."

Ludwig averted his gaze. A single word, which had yet cost him so much to utter. And France only nodded, remaining silent. Uneasiness refused to fade between them, for there was nothing to say, no way to do so, and soon, the older nation sighed, standing up and walking over to the door. To escape, Ludwig nearly assumed. It was what he would have done.

Unexpectedly, France's absence made him feel solitary – now, he was just a boy again, stranded in an unknown place. In the dim light, he traced the outline of Prussia's body, the uneven heaving of his chest and the occasional fidgeting, indicating a bad dream the other was probably having.

Hesitantly, he made his way over to the bed. His brother looked weak like this, he thought, weak and vulnerable, so unlike himself it was almost painful to look at him. Carefully, he freed the other of his uniform jacket, wincing at the large patch of red on the shirt underneath. However, the blood had already dried, and Ludwig wondered what exactly had enabled this quite as quickly, before dismissing the consideration and letting it be replaced by pure relief.

He smiled a little, and suddenly, fatigue overwhelmed him.

He lay down next to Prussia, breathing in the dusty smell of the straw-filled mattress, and cautiously stretching out one hand to place it on his brother's arm, just to feel the warmth of his skin, make sure he was still with him, alive.

For now, it was all he felt comfortable with.

Soon, however, he threw caution to the wind and instinctively inched closer to the other body, until the gap between them was closed entirely. Ludwig wrapped his arms around his brother's passed out form, already half-asleep himself, and sighed deeply.

It did not take long after that for sleep to overpower him entirely.

He didn't notice France returning, leaning against the wall and watching them, in silent wonder, before starkly taking his leave, closing the door as quietly as possible and engaging in a short conversation with one of the occupants of the house before muffled voices died down and the front door, too, fell shut.

He did not notice the young girl entering the back room with a bowl of steaming soup held in between her hands, but not starting an attempt to wake him as she noticed he was still sound asleep.

And he didn't notice how Prussia's heartbeat steadied again, wounds healing at a rapid pace, either.

Even when Prussia finally awoke, Ludwig didn't notice. Maybe it was from the exhaustion, the unexpected comfort it provided to lie next to his brother, cuddle up against him and subconsciously relish the familiar smell of his clothes that his perception was running on a low level, blending out all movements that did not seem alarming. When Prussia stirred, ever so slightly, he did nothing except for mumbling something incomprehensible, long since having dozed off.

And as it was, Prussia did not say anything for a long time, either, merely cradling Ludwig against his side with a tired gesture that almost, almost succeeded in waking the younger.

Sunlight slowly seeped in, lightly illuminating the tiny gaps left in the thatched roof, and once again, nature refused to go in accord with the events that had taken place here hours before, and resorted to its usual, independent demeanor again.

As though we're just minor details within a giant plan, Ludwig would have thought, had he actually been in the state to think.

Instead, they lay like that for a while, until both started to get uncomfortable on the itchy mattress, and Prussia pulled out a straw that had stuck to his side, chuckling.

"We're living in luxury now, aren't we, Kleiner?"

Ludwig hummed in agreement, the sarcasm utterly lost on him, as well as the fact that his brother had just spoken to him. It was the subsequent, "Anyway, good morning, Ludwig" that made him wake up for real, with the tiniest of yelps.

"Gilbert! Gilbert, you're-"

"Told you it would take more than a bullet to finish me off" Prussia said amusedly, seeming somewhat tired still, but alright nonetheless. Ludwig sucked in a relieved breath.

"You're okay…"

And then he did something that contradicted the collected, disciplined personality he had always intended for himself, making apparent its tentativeness just as the previous day. He hugged Prussia tightly.

"I'm glad."

The statement sounded much too formal, but it did its purpose justice. Prussia stiffened at first, caught by utter surprise, but hesitantly reciprocated the gesture.

"You didn't honestly believe I would die, did you?"

Ludwig stared at the empty wall over Prussia's shoulder, tensing. Yes, he had believed so. Now, however, as time had gone on, and here they were, both fine after all, it almost seemed laughable. What kind of answer was he to give, then?

"I-"

He could practically feel Prussia smiling as his brother released him, holding him at an arm's length, as though he was about to say something, truly consolidating the moment that covertly been conjured between them.

"Who knows, one day I may die for the greater good, but it won't be due to something…as this, and I'd much rather state that-"

Suddenly, his gaze fell upon the tattered piece of blue cloth wrapped around his forearm, now partly stained with coagulated blood.

"What…?"

He tapped at it, slowly taking it off. Ludwig's breath hitched as he realized the deep cut that was supposed to mar the skin underneath it had vanished entirely over night. The smallest hint of realization flashed up in Prussia's eyes as he recognized the origin of the rag. Not only realization, Ludwig thought. Hope.

"Where did you get this, Ludwig?"

To say Ludwig had planned to lie would have been nothing but that itself – a lie - but saying he had wanted to tell the truth would have had its flaws, too. His will to do so had faded the moment he had caught a glimpse of the unforeseen emotion it would cause his brother.

"Found it. Must've been ripped off a uniform at some point."

He was taken off-guard by his own words for a second, and immediately tried to salve his conscience – Prussia would probably never find out what had really happened, and presumably, it was better like that. It felt scary, though, having spoken without thinking, acting upon an inner impulse that did not go well with a just point of view. Ludwig nervously studied his brother's expression as he looked up from the piece of cloth to muster him.

"And you were the one to bring us here?"

"…yes?"

"Hmm. Well done, Ludwig."

And that was when it occurred to him that Prussia knew exactly he had lied, had read it in his eyes as though his mind was an open book. Prussia looked at him thoughtfully, and then his mouth broadened into a wistful smile of sorts. Ludwig, however, took it for a sign of acquiescence.

Relieved, he let his shoulders slump, letting his gaze wander. It came to rest on the door, just as it was opened. It was the woman France had persuaded into giving them shelter yesterday. She looked even more worn out than before, with bags under her eyes and her hair stringy and flat. However, in her hands she held a tray with two bowls balanced on it, expression momentarily being overrode by surprise as she noticed Prussia sitting upright in his bed, mimicking the emotion written all over her face.

She winced visibly at the intensity of his red eyes, but quickly regained composure.

"Ça devra servir comme un petit-déjeuner. Je n'ai pas beaucoup, mais votre ami me disait d'assurer que tout allait bien pour vous" she then said to him, obviously in the minuscule hope of him being cultivated enough to understand her language, albeit Prussian.

Ludwig expected Prussia to rudely mutter a few words in German, basically dismissing her, but what his brother did instead didn't even remotely resemble his speculations.

"Je ne sais pas comment de vous remercier, Madame. Si mon... ami revient, relaissez lui aussi ma gratitude, s'il vous plait" he responded in fluent French.

Though he truly wasn't one to judge, it sounded downright perfect to Ludwig. No matter how unexpected, what his brother had said – he could only guess – had held something flowing, unhesitating, Prussia's voice resorting to a softness he never expressed when speaking German.

Ludwig wasn't the only one left baffled, it seemed.

The woman's eyes widened, then narrowed in pleasant surprise as she set down the tray on the stool next to the mattress. The bowls were filled with what seemed to be a thin soup with sparse vegetables floating in it, left over from the last dinner, probably. Unusual for a breakfast as it was, Ludwig felt his mouth water at the sight of it, shock forgotten immediately as he reached out for one of the bowls, slurping the soup as though he had not eaten in months.

"Votre frère est un bon garcon" the woman commented, giving Prussia a fatigued smile, "Il ne vous quitterait pas, même pas pour manger."

It bordered on a miracle, the change her behavior had gone through upon the small revelation of her 'guest' knowing French. While she did not exactly seem to deem them trustworthy yet, at least she had lapsed into a friendly kind of conversation, obviously contrary to her former intentions.

Prussia briefly glanced at Ludwig, their eyes meeting. Although the younger brother did not understand a word, he did not mind for now, focusing on his meal again in an instant.

"Je sais" Prussia answered, taking the bowl the woman handed him and beginning to scoop diced vegetables into his mouth with a content expression.

The woman appeared as though she wanted to add something else, but apparently decided against it and turned to leave the room, tray held against her side with one arm.

"Partez le plus tôt possible. J'ai déjà fais plus que je permettrais normalement."

Ludwig glanced up as the door fell shut behind her, and understood, without understanding in the original sense of it, that she'd lost close to everything, had given them shelter on nothing but the sole persuading France had done, taken them in not out of affection but to do the man she was affiliated to in one way or another a favor.

Seeing that they were already stressing her goodwill was easy after that.

They set the empty dishes aside as soon as they'd finished eating. As they worked in silence to gather their belongings, little of which were actually left, and reestablished the previous state of the room, Ludwig realized Prussia did not once complain about pain yet to vanish, did not once raise a hand to clutch at his wounds, did not buckle even in the slightest due to his demolished leg.

In fact, he seemed to be perfectly fine again.

Before he had the chance to inquire it, though, Prussia had donned his tattered uniform again, ready to leave the room. For the moment, all Ludwig allowed himself to feel was relief.

The woman followed them outside from where she stood in the kitchen they walked through, and as she took position next to the front door the girl emerged from inside the house, too, hiding a little behind her mother.

Eventually, she dared to take a look, then shyly took a step forward, pointing to the wooden stable attached to the house.

"Vous pouvez avoir le cheval, si vous n'allez pas trop loin. Il toujours retrouve son chemin vers nous" she shakily said to Prussia, then turned to Ludwig. "Votre est dans l'étable aussi - il est nourri et il s'est reposé, et j'ai m'occupé avec lui de sort que le voyage ne le fatiguera pas, oh, et j'ai nettoyé à fond une fois avant que vous arriviez, donc tout était propre et-"

Her eyes had grown wide as she spoke, one foot nervously scraping patterns into the sand, blush rising to her cheeks as she noticed Ludwig looking straight at her, not understanding a word. He raised his eyebrows at her odd behavior, confused as to what had triggered it. It couldn't solely be due to his uniform, marking him an enemy-

Prussia barely managed to contain his laughter as the woman hastily put a hand over her daughter's mouth to stem what had culminated in a rant.

"Vous l'entendiez."

Ludwig followed Prussia over to the stable, where he found his horse, calm again, standing next to another mare of a much lankier build, with scruffy fur. Prussia sighed as he looked at the animal, scratching his forehead in eventual resignation.

"That's the horse your little girlfriend was talking about, it seems."

Ludwig did not have a clue what Prussia was referring to, but merely shrugged, beginning to saddle his horse, while Prussia applied harness to the other one, sour look never leaving his face.

Once they were done, they led the horses outside, blinking in the bright morning sun after having become used to the dim light inside the stable.

Ludwig reminded himself of smiling, instead of actually muttering words of farewell no one but Prussia would've understood, giving the woman and her daughter one last look before he and his brother departed from the house, intending to walk for a while before truly commencing their way to catch up with the army.

Their parting had gone without emotions implied. They did not know a thing about each other, after all, and the only evidence of acknowledgement exchanged had been prim nods, vacuous in a way.

An hour, give or take, went by, in which Ludwig relished feeling, or at least knowing of the soil beneath the soles of his shoes, walking at a slow pace that enabled him to take in their surroundings with the utmost attention. Whether that was something positive or not, though, he wasn't sure in the least.

He tried to keep his mimic serene even as they passed burnt down houses, with nothing but charred walls still standing amidst equally destroyed environment. It was hard to ignore, now that the battle was no longer raging on to distract them, and lone columns of smoke rose to the sky from still smoldering seats of fire. Fog and rays of sun clashed somewhere in between, and had someone asked, Ludwig wouldn't have been certain at all how to describe the overall atmosphere. All he knew was that it wasn't even rudimentary like the victorious feeling he had anticipated.

After all, from the looks of it, they had indeed won – just as Prussia had predicted.

What exactly they had achieved by it was still up for debate, but they would soon find out as they'd catch up with a witness, namely any member of the German army that had not been blocked from the course of events the way they had been. Or maybe Prussia had even asked the woman about it, in case of which he still had to tell Ludwig.

In the end, it scarcely mattered.

They stopped as they reached a patch of untouched plain amongst marred areas, akin to an oasis within a desert. Prussia gave a curt nod before mounting his horse, not seeming quite as haughty anymore, with a ripped uniform and a farm horse for a mount. Ludwig had to restrain himself from feeling the slightest bout of gratification at not being the humbler looking one of them for once.

"There's a great day lying before us" Prussia remarked, and it remained unclear whether he wanted Ludwig to answer or not.

Whatever the case, in retrospect, Ludwig would not be sure anymore what caused the hushed words he spoke, anyway.

Maybe, he thought of Prussia, Prussia lying on the ground, covered in blood. Reimagining his fear of something that was so unlikely to happen, and had yet seemed so vivid and real to him back then, in the haze of the moment.

Maybe he thought of one of the comparably innocent soldiers whose deaths he'd had to witness. Even though now, he could barely remember their faces.

Maybe, he thought of Bavaria, and Saxony, whom he barely knew and was still dependent on, in one way or another.

And maybe, he even thought of France.

In the end, however, all possible reasons became one unit, and before he'd as much as registered what he was about to say, his request tumbled out, unexpected as can be.

"After this is over…after I've become Germany – when we achieved what we wanted-"

A pause.

Then-

"Let's never go to war again."

Silence.

Prussia stared, stared, and said nothing.

The next moment, he was guffawing.

For a second Ludwig nearly felt humiliated.
But then, he brushed the feeling off, because - of course, Prussia was right. And even though Ludwig had been so sure of his own opinion only a minute previous, now, he felt like a fool. And deservedly so, he thought.

He awkwardly mounted his horse, before lifting his gaze again, hesitantly, willing to say anything to even relations between them again. He was startled when in Prussia's eyes there lay nothing but a taunting fondness after the laughter had ebbed.

Stillness stretched out between them.

In the end, it was a simple statement that broke the silence.

"Let's go."

Prussia turned to continue their journey.

And Ludwig followed.

FIN.

Translations:

Tu es tellement un imbécile. - You're such an idiot.

C'est... un distant membre de la famille de moi. Son frère est blessé, et il a besoin quelque part pour se reposer. - This is…a distinct relative of mine. His brother is hurt, and he needs somewhere to rest.

Mais- mais- il est un de ces- ces Prusses! - But – but- he's one of these- these Prussians!

Il est pourtant un ami. - He's still a friend.

Il ne mourra pas, il a simplement besoin de se reposer. S'il vous plaît, c'est tout que je demande- - He won't die, he just needs to rest. Please, it's all I ask for-

Je vous revaux après que tout que vous avez fait pour nous. J'espérais que la faveure que vous me demanderiez serais quelque chose d'autre, mais- je crois que c'est le moins que je peux faire. - I owe you after what you did for us. I hoped the favor you'd ask for would be something else, but- I guess it's the least I can do.

Ça devra servir comme un petit-déjeuner. Je n'ai pas beaucoup, mais votre ami me disait d'assurer que tout allait bien pour vous. - This will have to serve as a breakfast. I don't have much, but your friend told me to make sure you were alright.

Je ne sais pas comment de vous remercier, Madame. Si mon... ami revient, relaissez lui aussi ma gratitude, s'il vous plait. - I don't know how to thank you, Ma'am. Should my…friend ever return, relay my gratitude to him, too, please.

Votre frère est un bon garcon. - Your brother is a good boy.

Il ne vous quitterait pas, même pas pour manger. - He wouldn't leave your side, not even to eat.

Je sais. - I know.

Partez le plus tôt possible. J'ai déjà fais plus que je permettrais normalement. - Leave as soon as possible. I've already done more than I'd usually tolerate.

Vous pouvez avoir le cheval, si vous n'allez pas trop loin. Il toujours retrouve son chemin vers nous. - You can have our horse, if you don't go too far. It always finds its way back.

Votre est dans l'étable aussi - il est nourri et il s'est reposé, et j'ai m'occupé avec lui de sort que le voyage ne le fatiguera pas, oh, et j'ai nettoyé à fond une fois avant que vous arriviez, donc tout était propre et- - Yours is in the stable, too – it's fed and rested and I cared for it so that the journey won't tire it out, oh, and I even mucked out once before you arrived, so everything was clean and-

Vous l'entendiez. - You heard her.

Notes

To put in at least a piffling amount of actual historical notes here – the battle ended with the eventual capture of Napoleon III, now temporarily leaving France without a sovereign. And that's it for this chapter.

I never planned to give France such a huge part in this (honestly, all I wanted for him in the beginning was to appear briefly) – but somehow, as I kept writing, the whole BTT subplot kind of fell into place (though I never mentioned it, Spain actually played a role in the outbreak of the war, too), and here we are. Also I found the idea of France and Germany having their first encounter on a battlefield too fitting to turn down.

The question remains whether Fran would've acted quite as benevolently if he'd known these two would continue making his life a misery for decades to come. Oh well.