A/N: Moving along fine now. Opinions? You guys are the best! *hugs*
"Why do you give me such disappointed looks?"
At the sudden question, Germania tilted his head and continued to watch his some as he paced the room. His only son now.
"Why?" Prussia's voice began to crack. "I could not save him, I know!"
Clear blue eyes followed the teenager back and forth. He had grown so much over the years. It sure was something to see. The last time Germania had seen his eldest son, he was shorter and thinner, a bit lanky. But now he was grown and built up with muscle. His face had fared just fine; handsome, yet vicious.
"I tried! God, I tried…" The young warrior stopped at the German's large, wooden desk and bent over, rough hands grabbing onto the edges for support, his knuckles whitening. "You did nothing to help!"
"I am aware." The calmer German nodded with slow ease. In his hands, he held a smooth, black mug. He took a small sip of the hot liquid.
The Prussian whirled around on his heel, rage settling over his body like a fiery cape. Eyes locked on Germania with a fierce intensity.
"You do not even care!" Prussia's voice was something he had never heard before. Loud, cracked, hurt…
For the first time, in many years, ruby red eyes filled up with tears and spilled over. A soft sob escaped bitten and dry lips. "Holy Rome is dead! And you do not care… He was your son!" Quietly… "My younger brother…"
First Old Fritz, now Holy Rome. The only two people in the world who cared about Gilbert… Gone.
Forever.
Germania had never seen his eldest son in such a destroyed state. He had been upset when Old Fritz finally fell into death in his arm chair, but this was worse. And he neglected to feel any pity for him. What had he told him?
"Never get too close to anyone. Not even your family."
More words spoken throughout his childhood. A lesson Germania wished for his children to know and live with. They would only wind up hurt and alone, therefore the relationships could be forgotten. They were not necessary.
Prussia did recall those words as he fell against the desk and slid down to the floor, hands covering his face and body heaving with sobs.
"It is all my fault…"
Gone were the days of love and belonging. The days when he had someone to turn to when he needed an extra hand to help him back up. There would be no one else in the world to accept the kingdom. They would all run, or try to kill him.
Now he had no one.
Watery eyes slowly slid over to peer at his father. He was right.
Relationships are best forgotten.
That was the day that Prussia realized that his father was right. The only two people who he had had a real relationship with were gone forever, and here he was. Hurting and alone. He did not regret his relationships with Old Fritz and Holy Rome, but he knew there was a lesson to be learned.
He would no longer pursue relationships. He needed no one. Once alone, always alone.
Grabbing the edge of the desk with firm fingers, the albino hauled himself to his feet, feeling his father's observant eyes upon him. His own eyes were directed at the floor, head tilted down a fraction.
Without another word to the man across the room, Gilbert Beilschmidt straightened up, his cape fluttering around him lightly. He was still a moment then began to move, sauntering to the doors without taking his gaze off the floor. His father watched.
There was a new air to the kingdom. Something that had changed so suddenly. It was something Germania could not quite name. But it struck a small chord of concern in him. If Prussia had not been empty before, he was now. And that only made the older German realize his mistake. It would not be long until the Prussian snapped.