A/N: Yes! Finally, got the 10th chapter up. It's been a while but here it is. I hope this is good, if you have any pointers, let me know. It was a bit tougher to write much about World War One because, while I do everything about it (I come from a history loving family) the war that I learned the most about and watched the most about was WWII. So if something seems out of whack here, let me know. :)
Thanks guys!
Hell had become something besides an underground world of fire and evil. It had become a something more than a dark place ruled by Satan. Hell had become the land upon Earth covered in long trenches and barbed wire fence. Explosions shook he ground around them, close enough to send debris flying but far enough to miss the trenches.
German soldiers ran back and forth in these trenches, guns propped on their shoulders and a frantic air following them. Some limped, while others did their best to maneuver with their arms slung against their bodies. Dirt encrusted all of their uniforms, smearing their faces and hands.
The British were coming closer. The Germans needed to keep going, refusing to back down in the slightest, even if they only made their situation more dreadful.
This was hell.
Prussia blew into his hands in an attempt to warm them. The air had gotten considerably colder, and snow was falling around them, piling up on the ground and in the trenches. Some soldiers hurried to these piles to begin shoveling them out so as not to bury them all in. Prussia sat against the trench wall, watching the soldiers bustle about. His fingers had gone numb and his toes were about the same.
"Prussia." A deep voice said.
Prussia stifled a sigh and turned, shivering as he moved, looking up at familiar blue eyes and light blond hair slightly disheveled under the helmet. "Hey, West."
"Are you going to do anything, or just sit there staring at the dirt?" Germany demanded, setting his gun down against the wall and folding his arms across his broad chest.
Prussia's ruby eyes drifted back to the wall for a moment then back up to his younger brother. "Maybe I am doing something."
"And that would be…?"
"Counting all of the tiny rocks in the soil." Prussia pointed to the wall with a tingling index finger. Germany held back from rolling his eyes and grabbed that pale index finger, pushing it back hard enough to earn a small squeak out of the albino. "How rude!"
"Get up." Germany grabbed his brother's discarded gun that was lying at his feet and slammed it down on Prussia's lap. "At least make yourself appear useful…"
Grumbling to himself under his breath, Prussia slowly rose to his feet, feeling the pinprick feeling of blood rushing down his legs from sitting for too long. He snatched the gun up, propping it over his shoulder and looking up at Germany with an irritated expression. "Happy, Mr. Productivity?"
"No." Germany turned and began marching down the trench; not bothering to look back and make sure his brother was going to follow.
But Prussia did.
The pair made their way further down the trench, faces free of any emotion and bodies chilled to the bone. No one intercepted them on their walk, they just moved out of their way, going back to their duties.
Prussia hated it. He missed fun, he missed laughter. He hated this way of fighting more than he could explain. The old warrior thought about it as he followed his brother, a slightly pained look taking over his features.
He yearned for the sound of metal on metal as swords clashed through the air, the victor proving himself through sword skills and agility.
He missed feeling the rush of adrenaline through his veins as he swung and ducked, dancing around with his enemy until he had beaten them down to the ground.
He missed feeling the weight of the sword against his shield, protecting him from being slashed in two.
He missed seeing the disgrace in his enemy's eyes as they fell to the ground from his own sword, defeated.
Instead of horses charging at each other, warriors mounted and ready to fight their enemy head on, he had to fight with ammunition and tanks. A barren wasteland separating the enemy from him. It took everything in his being not to go charging out of the trench, over the barbed wire and jump on his enemy. Had he a sword, he would drive it right through their chest.
Those were the years he would kill for again. The only downside…
That was when he was alone. Holy Rome and Old Friz's deaths, then Germania's death. Of course, there were those years when all three were alive, and when his brother and old king were around, it made everything seem alright. Prussia had been offered more acceptance in this time period than he had been before. But nothing could ever replace that small emptiness he felt at losing his past. Moving forwards.
He knew very well that it was going to happen, and it had to happen. And he hated that he missed those days.
But he did.
Prussia looked up at the man beside him, wondering if Holy Rome would have grown to look like Germany. Would his features be just as hard and cold?
"Prussia." Germany's voice tore Prussia from the past. "We need to strategize a plan of attack tonight."
Red eyes looked up to the sky, becoming lost in the darkening clouds.
Gather all the horse we have. Saddle them and find your sword, Ludwig, we are going to war. Line up all the men and their horses, raise the flags. Wait until you see the enemy line.
Their flags are raised just as high
When I give the order, we charge. They stand no chance against us. We will cut down every one of their men, until their flags hit the ground.
Let nothing hold you back.
"Are you even listening to me?"
One warrior stood alone in the trees. His cape billowed around him and blood stained his clothing. A sword was held loosely in his hand. Its shine was gone.
White hair blew around the pale face, a face covered in smears of blood and mud. His hand tightened around the sword's hilt, drawing it in closer to his side.
"Honestly, why do I even bother..?" Germany began to turn away.
He had practiced for days on end, entering battles with a new skill and stunt every time. He became unbeatable. As long as he had that sword in his hands, no one could touch him.
Red eyes slowly came back down to the retreating back of the German.
It was like slow motion as he began to run, right for his enemy. She turned, long brown hair flowing out around her and face going hard when she saw the flash of white headed towards her. Her sword rose.
His feet began to carry him after his brother, guiding him through the soldiers and around obstacles, his eyes far away still.
She had not been prepared for such a challenging fight. His sword hit against hers with a force that almost drove her backwards. She gasped, eyes widening.
Now he was even more dangerous than before.
"Gilbert!" The shout came from Germany. He grabbed his brother's arm with rough force, yanking him to a stop and getting right in his face. Seeing just how far Prussia's eyes were only enraged the younger more.
As Hungary's body hit the ground, laughter rang out around her from the red eyed demon that had just defeated her. Her teeth gritted.
She was no longer a threat. The albino took note to this and turned on his heel.
By the time Hungary had gathered enough strength to lift her head, she saw a retreating back. White cape billowing out behind a lean body, sword clutched in one tight fist, hair dancing in the wind.
"If you do not focus on the problems of now, then you will be thrown out into the middle of the field, do you understand?" Germany threatened, giving his brother a hard shake.
Prussia's eyes finally snapped back, rolling up to glare at Germany. "Try it. I dare you."
"Unfortunately, they still need you." Germany released his brother, pleased to see he was back in present times. "As do I. So, if you would please stay in this current time and stop going back to where you can never go back…"
The words hit his chest like a bullet and Prussia bit back the insults he wished he could deliver upon the German. Instead, he nodded slowly and yanked back out of Germany's hold.
"Fine. But I refuse to do any planning tonight, West. And that is final."
Germany's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "And why is that?"
"It is Christmas Eve, West."