When Germany woke up he sensed that something was not right. He didn't know why, but something in his tummy told him that not everything was as it should be. He couldn't think of what it was, however, until he tried to get some cereal out of the pantry.
Prussia stacked everything high, or at least high for Germany's little child body. And that's when it hit the young nation- Prussia wasn't up yet. Prussia was always, always awake at this time, because he had to be the big brother and take care of Germany and make sure he was fed and got to school on time. Today, however, Germany was pretty sure he was already late and his big brother still wasn't in the kitchen, the living room, or the bathroom.
Germany walked over to Prussia's bedroom and pressed his face up to the door. Being quiet and light, he was a good little eavesdropper. He listened close and thought he heard sniffling. Prussia must have a cold! He thought, and tried to think of what Prussia did for him when he was sick. He gave him medicine, but Germany couldn't reach the medicine cabinet.
Germany figured he'd just go check on his brother. If Prussia was sick he might just need some comfort. Germany opened the door, not thinking to knock, and was met with a big surprise.
Prussia was sitting on his bed in his work clothes, but not looking like he had any intention of getting work done. His knees were drawn to his chest and he hugged them with his hands, only lifting one when he needed to wipe his nose on his sleeve. But Prussia wasn't ill. He was crying.
Germany didn't know what to do. He had never, ever seen his big brother cry before. He thought Prussia didn't cry- he was too awesome, after all. But now tears were streaming down his poor brother's face and Germany felt a pain in his chest at the sight of his Prussia so sad. Finally, after a small, choked, "Hallo, West," from Prussia, he ran and snuggled next to his brother, reaching for a box of tissues on the nightstand and handing one to him.
Prussia sniffed and wiped his eyes and nose with one, crumpling it up and tossing it into his wastebasket. Germany remembered that sometimes when he was the one crying Prussia would stroke his hair, so he reached up and petted his brother's white locks. "Pwussia, what's wrong?" he asked helplessly.
"I…" Prussia paused and sighed. Maybe it would help him get through his pain if he talked about it. "There was a time long ago, West, before you can remember, when I had the best mentor in the world. His name was King Frederick of Prussia, but I called him Fritz even though he was my boss. I felt the same way for him that you feel for me."
Germany was astonished. He didn't think someone as perfect and awesome as Prussia could have a hero. But he supposed maybe everyone did.
"Anyway, Fritz died when I was still a pretty young nation," Prussia went on, and Germany thought that his voice sounded very thick and strained. "I got through it over time, but today was his birthday, and sometimes, I just get… really sad."
Wow. Germany's father died when he was a baby, so he could never remember losing somebody he loved. Poor Prussia, no wonder he was crying. "I'm sorry, Pwussia," he whispered as Prussia sniffled into another tissue. "I wish you still had Fritz."
"Me too, West, me too." Prussia scooped up his little brother in his arms and held to him like a scared child would hold onto a stuffed animal.
The brothers were silent for a moment, and then Germany whispered, "I think Fritz is proud of you, big bruder. I bet he's smiling at you right now, because you're such a good big bruder to me. You became someone's hero, just like he did." He smiled and snuggled his head into Prussia's chest.
Prussia felt his throat tighten again, but this time it was with joy. What did he do to deserve a little brother like Germany? He supposed he was simply an unmerited blessing. He looked up to the sky. Thank you, God, he said silently. And Fritz, is West right? Are you proud?
And he could almost feel Fritz right there beside him, nodding his affirmation. "You bet I am, lad."