Ludwig?

The name rings a bell, despite being rather common among German folk. England squints as he searches the recesses of his memory for a clue. He vaguely recalls reading the name someplace many months back, but unfortunately any details elude him.

Meanwhile, Canada is smiling from ear to ear. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Ludwig!" he says. "You're not here all by yourself, are you?"

Little Ludwig shakes his head. "No, I am with my older brother. He is always nearby."

A raucous voice calls out from the crowd of attendees waltzing past the group: "Ludwig! Wo bist du?"

Ludwig turns to the sound. "Gilbert! Ich bin hier!" he responds.

And then, England stops himself from smacking his palm to his forehead. Now, he remembers the letter that he had regarded with mild curiosity before it was set aside and forgotten. It contained the entire story of a tiny blonde boy wandering the Bavarian countryside and the unruly fellow who found him.

From the sea of dresses and waistcoats, a silvery-haired man emerges. Pinned to his jacket are a small collection of military medallions and emblems. When he catches sight of England, he pauses for a short second and a glint of surprise reflects in his crimson eyes. Then he strides over to the trio, his medals clinking with each step. He heartily claps England on the shoulder without a smidge of hesitation and offers a toothy grin.

"Guten tag, Herr Eyebrows!" Prussia barks. "How've you been?"

England scowls at the unfortunate nickname and calmly removes Prussia's hand. "Please don't go around calling me that," he mutters. Prussia snickers and the familiar sound whistles through his teeth like steam through a kettle spout.

"I've missed your grumpy expression," he says, still grinning. "Things have been a little dull for the past few years! Well, that was at least until I met Ludwig here." He gestures to the young lad. "I take it you've already been introduced?"

"Yes, we have," England curtly replies. Frowning, he glances between the two Germans and his mind swirls with a litany of questions.

Canada graciously speaks up. "Ludwig was just telling us about these incredible pictures on display."

Prussia chuckles. "So that's what he was up to! You both must have realised that he absolutely loves science. He spends half of his free time with his nose buried in engineering textbooks and the other half lecturing on the topic! It's amazing how quickly he learns something new." Ludwig awkwardly shuffles his feet at the endorsement, but Prussia seems to either not notice or not mind. He looks to Canada and continues: "By the way, I don't think we've met before."

Recalling basic courtesy, England clears his throat. "Right," he says. "Gilbert, this is Matthew. He's from the Canadian colonies."

Whichever nation came up with the idea of having 'normal' aliases deserves heaping praise. Even though the practice is mostly for appearances, using their human names certainly makes being around commonfolk far simpler. It can occasionally make introductions confusing, but fortunately today, that does not seem to be the case.

"So, you're the other North American kid!" Prussia exclaims. He extends his hand immediately with a knowing spark in his eyes. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Canada responds evenly and shakes Prussia's hand. "Thank you, the honour is all mine. Um, your medals are very impressive."

Prussia lets out a whistle. "Giving me compliments right away? You're either very polite or very honest!" He releases another obnoxious laugh.

England huffs. "Would you mind explaining what you are doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Prussia comments. "You don't usually take an interest in anything Francis does, unless he's starting to gather an army."

"Hmph. For that matter, neither do you."

"Ah, that may be so! This time, however, I had a special reason!" His face beaming with fondness, Prussia rests a hand on Ludwig's tiny shoulder and the pair share a glance. "This little man wanted to see all the modern inventions at this exposition. And even though it was a long journey from Brandenburg, I couldn't bring myself to say no to him." Moving his hand to the youngster's head, Prussia gently ruffles Ludwig's pristine hair.

Ludwig blushes and grumbles quietly. "Bruder..."

England gawks at the sight before him. It would be a heart-warming scene, if it were not so unusual. Here is a man who has only ever known happiness from battlefield victory. Witnessing Prussia without fiery ambition behind his eyes and without any teeth in his smile is quite bizarre.

The lull in conversation becomes acute and Prussia looks up; he catches England's staring. Quickly, England averts his gaze, but it is too late. He bites his lip, searching for a way to change the subject. A solution is just about to pass his throat before Prussia kneels and whispers something to Ludwig in German. The little boy nods his head.

Ludwig approaches Canada carefully. "Matthew, sir?" he inquires. "Would you like me to explain the inner workings of a Koechlin locomotive?" He points to a large, green steam engine just a bit further down the hall.

Canada blinks. "Oh, right now?" he asks. His eyes dart from Ludwig, to the engine, to England.

England and Prussia exchange a look.

Then, England waves Canada on. "Go ahead, Matthew."

"Alright then," Canada mumbles. He turns to Ludwig and perks up. "Let's go!"

The two of them walk over to view the peculiar machine, while their elders hang back. Once they are well out of earshot, England sighs.

"Why did you just have me send my ward away?" he grumbles.

"You were glaring at me," Prussia snickers. "That usually means you've got something you want to ask. Isn't that right?"

"I wasn't glaring..." England fumbles.

Prussia shrugs. "If you want to ask about Ludwig, I don't mind. I could talk about him all day!"

In the face of such veracity, it takes a moment for England to find the right words. "Very well, then," he eventually says. "What are your plans for the boy?"

"Hah! I haven't made any plans at all!"

"You're a rather competent strategist, so I find that somewhat unusual."

"This is different from a campaign. I'm raising a young man!"

"I believe that still requires an amount of preparedness."

Prussia scratches the back of his neck absent-mindedly. "I suppose... I'm striving to let him grow up - to keep him happy and healthy."

"Gilbert, he calls you his brother."

"Roderich does the same, ja? And you have brothers of your own."

"Yes, but that's not exactly what I'm getting at."

Prussia crosses his arms. "Then what is it?"

Leaning close, England lowers his voice to a near whisper. "If you're on such familiar terms already, you must be convinced he's like us. Is that the case?"

Prussia's eyes nearly pop out of his head before he erupts into laughter. The boisterous noise draws the attention of a few onlookers and England furtively tries to hush him.

"Of course, it is!" Prussia boasts. "What else could it be?"

England groans. It is odd enough that Prussia found another one of them here, in the middle of Europe, but on top of this, the child has no land nor people to his name. At least, not so far as England is aware of. Unsurprisingly, Prussia's brazen confidence outweighs logical thought. What is surprising, however, is that he has placed this confidence in a youngster and not in, say, a rifle.

"How do you know for sure?" England presses, desperately trying to glean some understanding.

"I don't," Prussia states. "I just believe it." With his hands on his hips and his chest puffed, Prussia appears to hold, in this, the same spirited certainty that he does in his military operations. Even his grin is as solid as a fortress. Finally, England deflates and Prussia eyes him quizzically. "What has you so agitated?" he asks.

England scratches the hem of his sleeve. "Nothing, it's just that... This is all rather unlike you."

"You think so?" Prussia wonders. A brief quietude settles among them, stirring up little figments of yesteryear. England averts his eyes and offers a weak shrug. Prussia murmurs, "I guess this is a change for me."

He turns to gaze at Ludwig in the distance. The boy is standing near Canada, gesturing at various parts of the emerald locomotive and babbling away at a relentless pace. Canada appears to be listening close – he nods along, wide-eyed and mouth ajar. As Prussia watches them, that same rare and gentle expression washes over his face. "They look as though they are quickly becoming good friends."

"Yes," England admits. "It would appear so."

"Say, do you ever miss the 'good old times?'"

It takes a second before England blinks. "The what?" he asks.

Prussia pokes England's arm. "Oh, you know what I mean. We made a fantastic team against that Napoleon idiot."

England shoos the finger away and kneads at the new spot of warmth it left behind. "Those can hardly be considered 'old times,'" he murmurs.

"But they were certainly good times!" Prussia asserts. He avidly gestures to Canada and Ludwig. "Look at those two over there! See how well they are already getting along? If we formed another alliance, they could learn from each other and grow stronger together, just as we did." He steps closer and his ruby irises light up with crackling embers. Their zeal is both stirring and deeply familiar. "Perhaps you should consider another collaboration with my awesome self."

"And once again deal with your impressive ego, I suppose."

"Think it over, Arthur." Prussia's tone is low and forthright; his words are not a command, but a request. Maybe even a dear one. The din of the exposition fades - muffled beneath thundering horse hooves, the brouhaha of army pubs, and an exhausted cry of victory on a damp field only decades ago. Suddenly, England's throat is rather dry and as he opens his mouth to give an answer, no words make it past his lips. He swallows and tries again.

"I'll have to leave that decision to Parliament," he quietly replies. And Prussia smiles soon after.

In a short time, Canada and Ludwig return to their elders in high spirits. Canada recants a few of the things he learned about steam engines and says he hopes to apply the knowledge in the construction of his own railroad someday. He thanks Ludwig for the impromptu lesson and the boy grants him a timid bow. Then, as Ludwig takes Prussia's hand, the companions say their goodbyes.

"It was nice meeting you!" Canada says as he waves.

"Likewise!" calls Prussia. "I'm sure we will see each other again!" He gives England a final spirited glimpse before departing with his head high, always high. Now though, his courage flows down his capable shoulders to the end of his arm, where he gently holds the hand of a child. One who calls him 'brother', who trails close, and remains perfectly at ease beside a warrior.

"So, Gilbert is Prussian?" Canada whispers.

"Hm?" England starts. "Oh, yes. That's correct."

"And where is Ludwig from?"

"For the moment, I'm not sure."

"Oh," Canada murmurs. Sensibly, he does not press the topic further; not in public. However, a lingering curiosity twinkles behind his brass spectacles. "Um. A penny for your thoughts?"

"It's just a bit surprising," England says. He nods at Prussia's retreating form. "I never expected him to become the sort of man that would raise a younger brother."

"Do you think something changed him?"

"Hm. Perhaps so."

Then, England turns and continues his tour with Canada. Albeit, now with a few matters to silently ponder in his heart.