Preface
Death is Not The Last Escape
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/59185357.
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: Gen Fandoms: Hetalia (Anime & Manga), Supernatural (TV 2005) Relationship: Germany & Prussia (Hetalia) Characters: Germany (Hetalia), Prussia (Hetalia), Hetalia Ensemble Additional Tags: Mythical Beings & Creatures, Folklore, Supernatural Elements, Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia), Blood and Injury, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV 2005) Fusion, Brotherly Love, a lot of mythical creatures, Metaphors, The Author Regrets Nothing, Mythtalia, author is a musician, Repressed Memories, mentioned - Freeform, Memory Loss, Magic Language: English Stats: Published: 2024-09-25 Words: 2,553 Chapters: 1/1 Death is Not The Last Escape
by Kostevysen, Petrichor (Kostevysen)
Summary
Ludwig does not know the extent of whatever he is, or how he came to be, it is bit overwhelming—but he catches on quickly to his own tale.
"You bear with flame and grit its name, yet you are not the wild warrior who once called it his own. So what are you, brave soldier?" It says to him, and he has fallen, so slowly—yet so deeply into a rabbit hole he fears he cannot get out of.
Sometimes he feels breathless, restless and a thirst—it is unreachable, far, yet so near.
Death is Not The Last Escape
If you would have told him, how death was painless—he would have laughed in your face, because, not everything was nice and pleasant to you. Death wasn't always the calm, cold sensation of leaving this plain of existence.
Sometimes it was violent, and it came in many different shapes and colors. He would have argued, that if death wasn't painful, then it was an endless pit of nothingness. That was probably even worse.
If you would have asked him, what he thought was the worse way to die—he would have answered: being left behind. Because that was the worst death possible. When someone had passed on before you. And you were left behind, feeling so empty, that you just wished that you could have died along with them.
He used to think that dying in battle was the worst. Taking your last breath with a sword through your heart, or a bullet in your chest, blood seeping into the earth beneath you—that's how warriors were meant to go, right? That's what they had all believed once. But over time, through countless battles and endless wars, he'd realized that wasn't true at all.
It was the silence after the storm that killed you. The moment when the noise of the battlefield faded, and you found yourself alone. Blood on your hands, maybe not even yours, staring at the bodies of those who wouldn't rise again. It was the death of those around you, the ones you couldn't save, that haunted you. Being left behind was a curse far worse than death itself.
The kind of death that didn't take your body, but your spirit, piece by piece. It hollowed you, turning the minutes into hours, the hours into days, and still, nothing eased. You were condemned to survive with the ghosts of the departed haunting your every thought. That was the cruelest fate imaginable—when the person who meant everything was gone, leaving you behind to rot in the silence they left. So, if he knew how to explain it.
Death had its colors—scarlet, obsidian, and pale, unforgiving white.
And if death wasn't painful? He'd argue that an eternity of immortality was even worse.
To a human, death would be the last escape, but him? No, not at all.
To live forever sounded like a curse to Ludwig. To be forced to endure an endless parade of loss, watching the world change, while you remained the same. Frozen in time, a sentinel who never changed no matter how many years, how many centuries or how many millennia had passed.
And perhaps the worst part of it all was that he didn't even understand why.
Why him? Why was he the one cursed with this power, this kind of gift? He wasn't a warrior from some ancient legend, wasn't a hero destined for greatness. He was just a soldier, another man on the battlefield. Yet here he was, still standing when so many others had fallen.
Sometimes, he wondered if he had already died and this was his punishment. To walk the earth, unable to rest, his feet forever bound to the ground.
Never knowing peace or tranquility. It would be a fitting punishment for all his sins.
So yes, he could imagine a lot of things. A thousand ways to die.
But he couldn't imagine a single way to live.
He didn't know how long he had stood there, just staring down at the cold earth. Minutes? Hours? It didn't matter. His entire body felt numb, like his mind was somewhere else. As if it wasn't really him, just a ghost standing in the snow, unable to move.
In truth, he is young, younger than most of what his kind considers him—Ludwig is blond with blue eyes and a mildly thin figure, he is considered a teenager, younger than most of his family; who are beings like him, and they have different names, like one,Prussia. Though Ludwig prefers to call him Gilbert, a personal name.
Gilbert is the closest to a brother he'll ever have, in fact, he doesn't remember a time where the albino wasn't his brother—he'd always just been there, watching over the younger being.Because who is Otto?
Gilbert had told him once, when they were both still children, that it was his duty to watch over Ludwig. That he had promised someone that he would. Ludwig didn't know who, or why, but he was thankful all the same. He couldn't imagine living his life without Gilbert by his side.
Even when he was annoying, and obnoxious, and teasing him constantly. Even when he was angry, and shouting, and making him feel stupid. Even then, he was grateful for the other.
Gilbert was the one who had taught him what it meant to be a soldier. To fight for something greater than yourself, to put the needs of others before your own.
They live in a village, surrounded by endless forest and mountains—it is a quiet life, and he doesn't yearn for more than he has to. The village has many like him and Gilbert, though some are different.
The men who live across from Ludwig's house have large white wings that crest over their shoulder blades—one has two pairs of white wings covering their face, the other, has a ring diagonally covering most of there's.
The lady who lives next door to him is beautiful, in such a way that enamors him—she is married, to a aristocratic man who plays the piano and can read minds, Gilbert tells him the man is a Dryad, a tree spirit.
The lady herself is a mermaid.
There are many creatures who live in the village, some are like him and Gilbert, but others are different. Creatures of myth and legend. Some are immortal, like him, but others have a lifespan similar to humans.
One of his neighbors is a Vukodlak, or a werewolf, the man has black hair and green eyes—sometimes, they were red, but only on rare occasions. The other, is a Greek qaurter-giante, whose preferred form is of a young man with shoulder length brown hair.
There is also another boy, who is a Ljósálfar, a light elf—whose brother is a Vættir, a nature spirit. They look just about the same, except for their eye colors.
There is an old man who is a Síðsteinn, a stone giant, he can transform into a rock and has lived for a long time—he can sometimes be seen near the river—rumors say that's where he died and became what he is now, though Ludwig doesn't know if he's real or just a fairytale legend.
The young family who lives close to his and Gilbert's cottage are Vilas and a Vodyanoy, the sisters are Vilas; both have blonde hair that glisten and glow in the sunlight. The brother, is a Vodyanoy—a water spirit. The brother is friends with the people who live in the house nearest to them, who are also brothers—both are Sylphs, though the older is Canadian and the younger is American.
The elderly woman who lives at the edge of the village is a Banshee, she is said to cry when someone dies, her hair is grey and she has blue eyes, her skin is pale and her hands are bony.
The sweet couple who live further into the village, are a Troll and an Ondine (Undine), the man is a troll, and has tusks and a horn, he is strong and tall, the woman is an Ondine, and is very beautiful, she has brown hair and blue eyes.
The blond boy who lives with the winged men is half-satyr half-dryad, he is shy—but appreciates Ludwig's knowledge on the human math work the older teen teaches him.
The man who lives on the other side of the forest is an Ifrit, a fire spirit. He is usually seen tending to his garden or playing the violin. There is a younger boy who is part dryad, part gigantes and part human, whom lives with the fire spirit, Ludwig knows his name, Iacovos.
The young girl who lives down the road from the Ifrit, is a Kikimora, a spirit who brings misfortune. She has dark brown hair and green eyes. She is often seen playing pranks on the village children. Though she has two younger brothers, one is a Vukodlak, the other is a Faun.
There is an older boy who is an Alp, a nocturnal goblin that attacks people in their sleep. There is a man who works as a shopkeeper who is a merman, always bathing in clean blue waters of a strong and large fish tank behind the counter of his store.
There is a child who is a Kitsune, a fox spirit, his nine tails are always hidden away, and he is always seen with the village head, a Dullahan.
The other Kitsune who lives in the village Ludwig knows by name, Kiku Honda—a quiet, polite Japanese man who was once a well-respected author of a book. Kiku lives with his family, who are various other creatures of myth and legend.
There is another family who lives just on the outskirts of the main trail, they are a family of Hyters, Druids and Manticores; the eldest two are Manticores, while the middle brother is a Hyter and the youngest brother is a Druid.
There is a lady who is a Gorgon, a snake-haired nymph who is usually seen wearing a hood to cover her face.
There is a man who is a Naiad, a water spirit, his hair is always wet and his clothes are often damp. He is always seen by the lake, and is rumored to be a good swimmer.
There are a trio of brothers who are both a Naiad and a Mermen, the middle brother, whose name Ludwig knows because they are friends—is Feliciano, who has brown hair, an Italian. The eldest brother; Lovino, has slightly darker brown hair, and the youngest brother; Sebastian, has auburn hair.
There is a child who is a Kobold, a household spirit that brings bad luck. They are always seen as a small humanoid with horns.
The man who runs the pub and tavern is a Leshy, a forest spirit that is often seen as a humanoid goat.
There is a boy who is a Fachan, a single-eyed one-armed dwarf, they have a large right arm and a small left arm.
The man who owns the library is a Pwca, a shapeshifting goblin that is usually seen as a large black dog with white paws.
The woman who is half-Sea Nymph half-Vila is always seen by the river. Always lounging on the riverbank's grassy shores with her lover, the Naiad who brings her beautiful rocks from the river's floor.
The man who owns the apothecary is a Daeva, a demonic spirit. He is always seen wearing a mask.
There are three boys who are a Huli jing, a shape shifting fox spirit, and a Draugar, a creature who guards their burial mound.
The woman who runs the bookstore is a Lamia, a snake-tailed nymph. The young man who lives near the river is also an immortal, his lover is a winged—Dutch, Tall and blonde.
The couple who own the farm are a Dziki, a woodland spirit, and a witch. They own many animals, including cattle.
The last man in the village is a vampire, his skin is pale and his eyes are red. He is said to be a very skilled hunter, and is often seen in the forest.
Ludwig always followed the same routine. Every day, he would wake up just as the first light of dawn broke through the small cottage window, illuminating the cold, still air. He'd start his morning silently, slipping out of bed without waking Gilbert, who lay sprawled across the covers, oblivious to everything around and would not wake up for a few more hours.
His first task was always the laundry. Gathering his and Gilbert's clothes, he'd take them to the basin and scrub them clean, wringing out the damp fabric with strong hands. Afterward, he'd hang the clothes to dry by the hearth before moving on to sweeping the floors. The dirt and snow that had been dragged in the day before would collect in neat piles, which Ludwig swiftly disposed of. The cottage was always clean, orderly, and efficient—just the way he liked it.
Two hours later, Gilbert would finally stir. Ludwig could hear the rustling of blankets and the loud, exaggerated groan that signaled his brother's struggle to wake. Ludwig didn't say anything; he didn't have to. They had been through this routine enough times to know exactly what came next.
And then, after a quick shower, the older brother would make breakfast for Ludwig; a simple German meal.
After that, Gilbert would wash the dishes and Ludwig would clean up the dinning table, putting away the unused plates and taking care of the leftovers. Which usually ended up being fed the three dogs they owned, Aster, Blackie and Berlitz—one of the few companions in his village, there are also several horses, cattle, sheep, cats, koi fish (in the case of a friendly, familiar, Kiku—who is also another kitsune), bees and chickens.
Ludwig enjoys having another bath after breakfast where he would change into his everyday clothes—beige tunic and dark brown trousers as well as dark mossy green boots Gilbert had bought off a human merchant long ago. Ludwig remembers the number as 80 years ago, though he isn't sure.
He still remembers the name and face of the merchant, a young Spaniard by the name of Antonio, who was very lovely and had a full life ahead of himself. Though he does not forget the half-Dryad half-naiad man who lives just one house over, that looks eerily similar to the merchant, who bears and has olive skin, brown hair and green eyes—who he has learned is Portuguese.
Humans never ask questions when they travel past Ludwig's village, they never ask questions when the Naiad, a Slovak, who resurfaces from the watery depths of the river nearby to join his Czech girlfriend who is a part-sea nymph, part-vila, or when they ask for directions and the Vodyanoy speaks in low, husky Russian to them.
They never bat an eye when the village goers walk past them on their journey—while some do get confused looks on their faces, they move on, like it isn't one of their worries a winged man walks on by in the marketplace.
But, he wouldn't trade this… cursed second chance at life for anything else—he's found his brother, and he's found his peace—he's found family and friends.
It is not good to dwell on dreams, and forgot to live.
Or so he thinks, and then the village is safe and sound.
There are hunters in this world, yes, but he does not care of what or who they are—this is enough.
He is not afraid of the dangers they may pose.
it is his life.
Immortality—is not a gift, nor a curse, nor a burden, it is just a way out of something so much more.