/CONTENT WARNING: BODY DISFIGUREMENT AND DECOMPOSITION/
What would you do for one more dance? One more kiss? One more hug? One more dinner? Is a price ever too high when it's someone you love?
Ludwig was torn on what to do. Where to go. Who to see. He wanted to be by himself. Who could possibly understand his loss? Who's had to say goodbye to their other half? Certainly not any of the countries he knew. He spent a long time at the plot, an unhealthy amount of time, continuing to deny any peace he could make with his brother's grave. It wasn't until 5 pm, when wind started to nip at his face, that he decided it was time to leave.
Ludwig felt isolated. His house seemed far too large for himself. He wanted to be anywhere but there. But he didn't want to go to Feli's, Francis' or anyone's else's home. Ludwig preferred to mourn in solitude.
His hands were shoved deep in his coat pockets, turning his keys over and over and over again. The spare key to Gilbert's apparent was still on his key ring. There were a lot of Gilbert's belongings that needed sorting. Disturbing his brother's personal possessions was not an appealing thought, but there was a strange comfort in visiting his brother's apartment. Maybe this was all just a bad dream, right? He'd go to his brothers, spend the night, and when he'd wake up, the Prussian would be slapping Ludwigs forehead, telling him he's a sheet hog and that if he was going to come over, he could at least text him first. Ludwig gave a small reassuring nod. That's right. This was all a dream. He'll go visit his brother and stay the night. And when they woke up, they'd go out for a run and have some breakfast.
Another nod, this time more firm. That's right. This is only a bad dream.
Ludwig sucked in a deep breath and went over to his car. The plot of land behind him was nothing more than dirt. Someone else had died. Some obscure politician that had finally bit the dust. The reassurance of this was much much easier to accept. Leaving this cemetery behind felt peaceful. After all, his brother wasn't really dead. He blew the funeral off for some dumb party, and was probably getting drunk at this very moment. Gilbert would probably be hungry when he got back, so maybe Ludwig could make his brother dinner. Wurst or even rouladen sounded really good. He'd have to check what was in the fridge. All these small little ideas popping in and out his head helped distract the German from accepting his brother's passing.
Ludwigs keys made a soft click when he unlocked Prussia's front door. Next to the door was a coat rack, which was currently being dressed by Gilbert's favorite winter coat. This coat was soon joined by Ludwigs own winter coat and hat.
"Gilbert, I'm back! Are you here?" There was silence, just like Germany expected. He clicked his tongue. "Figures," he mumbled, "he's out somewhere doing something." Moving into the kitchen, Ludwig noticed the apartment had been tidied up since his last visit. His acute detail orientation was intentionally ignoring the sticky fingerprints death had left on the walls. Instead he gave a small nod of approval at the clean counter. Naturally, Prussia had cleaned up. He didn't know anyone, besides himself, who was as clean as his brother.
Ludwig moved to the fridge, but found it's contents a little disappointing. There wasn't much in there. Some dietary drinks, fruit and veggies that had been sitting too long. A few cans of alcohol that looked forgotten in the back. A loaf of bread. A single slice of cheese. The German sighed and closed the door. There wasn't anything worth his time in the fridge, so he moved on to the cupboards. The closest cupboard to the fridge surprised the German when he opened it. Towers of orange, clear bottles were precariously stacked against the walls. Some of them were nearly empty, some of them full. Different caps of various warnings made for a colorful collective of drugs. It was awe inducing. Germany had no idea that Gilbert was taking so many medications. He eyed the daily pill box that sat at the very front of the towers. His hands carefully took it down, and noticed the box was overstuffed with pills, vitamins, and medications. Ludwig blinked in shock and put all the pills back in the medicine cabinet. He hadn't truly realized how sick his brother was until he saw the pills, but he reassured himself that it was going to be okay. This time around, Ludwig would help his brother get better. He'd stay with him. Make sure he ate. It would be okay.
Ludwig moved over to the next cabinet, and continued his search for food to make. A bag of potatoes was the saving grace. An hour and a half resulted in 2 plates worth of potato dumplings. One plate he wrapped in foil, leaving it on the counter for when his brother came home, the other plate he ate at the table alone. Cooking had been the most productive activity he'd done since Tuesday afternoon.
When Ludwig finished cleaning up, he moved into Gilbert's bathroom was specifically avoided, reason being Prussia had a habit of leaving intimately personal items in the bathroom. It was common for Ludwig to find...fun items in the bathroom when he visited quickly learned to allow Gilbert to clean the bathroom up before he used it. The same courtesy applied here.
Actually, now that he thought about it, Ludwig hadn't let his brother know he was coming over. He pulled his phone from his pocket, ignoring the multiple messages from Feliciano, and texted his brother.
"Hey, got your message. I'm at your place right now. Hope you don't mind. I left dinner for you on the counter. I'm staying the night btw. If I don't see you tonight, stay safe." He heard a ping come from the bathroom immediately after the text had been sent. Of course. Gilbert forgot his phone.
Well, it couldn't be helped. Germany flopped down on Prussia's made bed and looked around the room. Everything was clean and put away, but it felt cluttered. Shelves were stacked high on two of his brother's walls, bulging with worn leather. Frames of pictures, memoria, and old military ranks and badges flanked the other wall. Gilbert's favorite retired sword and rifle hung above his bed frame. On the bedside table was a picture of Ludwig and Gilbert together, after a fishing trip, Gilbert grinning with a giant ass fish, and Germany laughing next to him. He remembered when that picture was taken. They had gone on a fishing trip with the Vargas brothers. Gilbert looked ridiculous, having dressed head to toe in fishing gear, with a large floppy sun hat. Sunscreen was an inch thick on Gilbert that day, and hard to determine whether Gilbert was so pale because he was albino or because he was more lotion than skin. The fish he was holding took a whole hour to catch, and immediately after the picture was taken, started flopping and knocked Gilbert overboard. Ludwig slightly laughed at the memory as he took the frame in his hands. It had been a fun day.
Ludwigs thumb moved over the glass, wiping away a small smear of dust before putting the image back on the table. Moving off the bed, Ludwig approached the stuffed shelves. If he remembered correctly, Prussia had organized these shelves by date. All of these books were actually Gilbert's personal journals and photo albums. Germany had to admit, he was always impressed by his brother's tenacity at record keeping. He'd never known someone as detailed and as consistent as his brother. Fingertips brushed past leather spines, until Ludwig reached the picture albums. The images tugged the German in, causing him to pull down an album from last year. The records stuck out like a sore thumb. Clearly, it was out of place. Someone must have pulled it out, and gone through it, then shoved it back in with little regard to its home.
The album was carefully held while Ludwig went back to the bed. He kicked his shoes off, and curled up against the pillows with the album. His hands slowly turned the pages, taking time to look over all of the pictures of Prussia's adventures in the last year. Pictures of him dancing and drinking. Parties, and games. Stuffy pictures of him wearing clothes he didn't want to. Pictures of him posing with statues. There were a few pictures where his ass was out, which was unsurprisingly paired with pictures of Francis and Antonio. Ludwig had to scoff at those. His brother had always insisted that nudity was bliss. Of course the German couldn't argue with that, but he had the decency to not take pictures of his bare bum in the middle of the day.
Ludwig continued to thumb through photos, letting the pictures immerse himself in the memories he had with his brother. As the night dragged on, more albums piled on the mattress. Ludwig ended up falling asleep on his brother's bed, nested inside a fortress of expired memories with a book clutched tightly to his chest.
…...
The morning sun brought about the squawking of Gilbird, who was loud. The shrieking rang in Ludwigs ears, and he groaned as he tried to swat away the high pitched noise. He rolled over, knocking books off the bed, and moaned, "Gilbert, go get your fucking bird."
No response
Ludwig's arm blindly reached out to nudge his brother awake, knocking books all over the sheets and floor, grabbing for something that wasn't there. "Gilbert, please. Your bird is shrieking."
Still no response
"Gilbert!" Ludwig's head snapped as he opened his eyes, ready to smack his brother, but the other side of the king bed was empty. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes to make sure he was seeing correctly. His only companion in bed was a toppled stack of 20 or so books.
"Gilbert?" Caution laced throughout Ludwig's voice. He was certain Gilbert had come home. He stayed up as long as he could to make sure he came home. He heard the lock click right before he fell asleep. The German sat up, staring at the empty space in the bed. Did his brother already wake up? No, because the sheets were still made on the other side. Well maybe he had made his side of the bed and let his younger brother sleep in.
Ludwig nodded. That made sense. Reassured, Ludwig stretched, got out of bed, and checked his phone. The list of messages was overwhelming, so he opted instead to delete and ignore them. It was evident, after popping his neck, that his sleeping position had been less than ideal. In a slow haze, he headed towards the kitchen area, dismayed when he saw Gilbert's dinner completely untouched. Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squinted as the bird's shrieking got louder. It was starting to create a headache for the German. He knew Prussia loved that damned bird but god, how did he stand the noise.
His grumbled steps moved back towards the spare bedroom. No one ever used it, so it had become the permanent lodging of Gilbird. Ludwig left the room door open and grumbled at the bird. His hands sleepily opened the wire cage, letting the fluffed nusaunce out.
"There, will you shut up now?"
The bird hopped to the front of the cage and cheeped. Before Ludwig had a chance to blink, the thing flew out like a bullet and into the hall. Ludwig watched the bird fly out before remembering the ceiling fan was on in the living room.
"Fuck!"
His brother would kill him if anything happened to Gilbird. Ludwig rushed after the bird, trying to grab the blur of yellow as it zipped by. He was unsuccessful, and quite frankly, looked like a lumbering idiot trying to catch a bird. His hand blindly swatted at the bird, bumping into walls, before finally clasping catching the damn thing.
"Finally!...Jesus" he mumbled at the bird while it squawked at him. Ludwig rolled his eyes and looked up from the yellow feathers. His body immediately froze and the bird squirmed out his hands as he realized what room the bird had led him into. Ludwig was standing in the center of his brother's bathroom. The stench of death instantly punched his stomach. That was right. This wasn't a nightmare. This wasn't a bad dream. His brother had died, in this very room, 6 days ago.
In 1947, after the state of Prussia was absolved, Ludwig became obsessed with trying to preserve his brother's life force. It's very common for countries to fade and die within one year of annexation. Fearful of Gilbert's fate, Ludwig traveled to libraries around the world in search of cures. He stole books from museum archives and stashed them, scouring for answers in the ancient texts of his ancestors. Within a few months, he curated a collection of necromancy texts that had been scattered around Europe. Fragments blown to the winds to stop the cursed spells from ever being completed. When Ludwig heard rumors about his brother being alive, his search was put on hold, but for the last 60 years, in times where his fear spiked, Ludwig resumed his translations. It took 57 years to finally decipher and translate the book of ancient necromancy; however, when it was done, Ludwig realized just how costly the price of new life was. There was a lot of risk, and even though most of it was translated, the ancient texts were not finished. Warnings lost throughout the ages. It had been Ludwig's better judgement at the time to leave the book alone. Dark magic had stories of anguish and loss woven throughout history. His brother was healthy and alive. There was no reason to consult the rotting books while his brother was breathing. The fragile pages were stored in the depths of Germany's personal archives, never to be opened again.
But now…..now the price felt like a mild inconvenience. While he stood, frozen in that bathroom, he recalled the countless hours gathering information. It felt like an answer. The book felt like an answer. A savior. Gilbert was just sick, like the book said. He was in a coma. His brother was too strong for internal slumber. Nothing was too taxing of a price if it meant Ludwig could share one more dinner, one more picture, one more laugh.
Ludwig gave a small nod to reassure himself. He was going to heal his brother.
The tall man was swift to gather his belongings. There wasn't much time. It was already 10 in the morning. Less than 48 hours remained if he wanted his brother back. In a blurred furry of green, black, and blonde, the German collected his clothes, keys, Gilbert's phone, and small tokens from Prussia's apartment. A hair brush, shirt, muddied boots, a handkerchief from the trash, dog tags, and Gilbert's most recent journal and album. All these were stuffed in a bag while Ludwig hurried to get back to his place. There was someone he needed to call.
Germany closed the driver's door and took a deep breath to prepare himself for the call he needed to make. There was only one nation he knew who would help. Shaky fingers typed numbers and Ludwig waiting anxiously while the tone dialed. He was relieved when he heard a familiar voice.
"Hello, this is Arthur Kirkland speaking. Can I help you."
"This is Ludwig."
"Oh Ludwig, I was not expecting you to call. Is everything alright?"
"Yeah…yeah. Listen" the German paused, "I need your help."
"That's a pretty vague statement. I'll need you to try harder."
Germany rolled his eyes and tried again "I need your help with an ancient spell."
There was a pause over the phone, before Arthur scoffed in disbelief from the other end, "what do you think I am? Some magician for party tricks?"
"Seriously Arthur?" Ludwig was not impressed.
"Seriously Ludwig. You don't just decide to fuck with that stuff."
"I know"
"Then why are you calling?" It was obvious the Brit was annoyed with Ludwig for even asking such a thing.
"Look Arthur, if it wasn't important, I wouldn't be calling you."
"Oh I don't doubt that! But here's the thing. You're being real vague about what you want, and magic isn't just some 'lets fuck around and find out' sort of thing, so if you don't sit down and start being direct I'm not going to-"
"My brother just fucking died Arthur! God! Just let me explain before you start lecturing my ass."
There was silence in the other line before a resigned sigh. "Fine. I'm sorry. Explain away."
Ludwig took a deep breath. He knew Arthur wouldn't help him if he knew the truth. But maybe if he could bend it, he'd get Arthur to agree.
"Look I've...i really haven't been around long enough to see a country pass. I don't think I'm being dramatic when I say that my brother was really something...special. Even in recorded accounts of...us, and our kind... nothing like this has ever happened. And I'm worried about his..passage to the next life. The nordics have their valhalla, you have your God. We all have something to soothe the soul. I just need some help. I've translated everything, I just need someone who can connect with the dea-" Ludwig caught himself, "departed."
England sounded resigned, "You know Ludwig, I'd like to help you, I really would, but I don't do that anymo-"
"I'll make it worth your while."
Ludwig could feel England's patience washing thin. He'd have to pull something and pull something fast if he wanted this to work.
The Brit cleared his throat, clearly cross as he took a long pause. Ludwig became anxious with the silence, "Please Arthur."
Arthur clicked his tongue on the other line, "Explain worth my while."
"Anything you want"
He snorted in skeptical disbelief "Anything? Really? Why would I buy that?"
"I'm being serious." And Ludwig was. He was being serious. The gravity of his tone made that very clear. "Anything you want. Books, artifacts, heirlooms, money. Name it and I'll give it to you."
"And how do I know you arent fucking with me? Or making a desperate lie"
"Because I have nothing else to lose," Ludwig sighed.
There was more silence. Germany could heart Arthurs fingers drum against a table. "What exactly is this spell again?"
"A blessing spell." That was a lie. "To allow contact one last time. Through a dream sequence."
More silence. "I'm sorry Ludwig. I can't say this is a good idea. I'd really like to bu-"
"You'd do it for Alfred. Don't act like you wouldn't."
"What I would do for Alfred is none of your concern!" Arthur snapped, before sucking his teeth, deep in thought. "Look, even if I wanted to help you, which I don't, you'd have to wait, I'm busy. I wouldn't have time until Wednesday"
"No."
"No? What do you mean no?"
"Tomorrow. You need to be here tomorrow."
"Christ Ludwig,I didn't even agree to this and you're already demanding shit from me! Do you realize how much of a hassle and risk-"
"500,000"
"I beg your pardon?"
"500,000 pounds. I'll pay for express travel. I can give the notes to you in person, if you want it up front."
There was more silence on the other end. Ludwig could faintly hear the brit muttering under his breath. The money must have sparked an appeal. "In notes?" he confirmed
"Yeah, unless you want venmo."
Arthur stifled a snort, followed by more thought. He figured he'd make a demand to see if the German was serious. "I keep the book when we're done."
Ludwig paused. Did he want to give up the texts? The answer was no, but if it meant seeing his brother again? "Alright."
"Okay." Arthur sounded defeated. "I'll leave in the morning."
"No you'll leave now"
"Ludwig-"
"Now or it's no deal."
Arthur took a deep breath. "Fine. Email me what you need. I'll leave in an hour."
Ludwig was serious about the notes. He sped home to find the books that were buried deep inside his library. Arthur was right about one thing. Dark magic was something to not be fucked with. Just as England had asked, Ludwig emailed a list of materials the books deemed necessary. Things like salt, candles, certain blood offerings, and personal belongings. Herbs of a mixed variety. It would take about 4 hours for England to get here, which means they should be able to get this spell finished in time for midnight. To occupy the wait time, Ludwig focused on prepwork. The few pages needed for the spell were printed out in english and tucked inside the necromancy book. Even though he agreed to give the original up, Ludwig didn't want to lose the text, so he also spent time photocopying all the pages that could handle the light. A visit to the bank was needed as well to extract payment for Arthur. If Ludwig was asked where the money had come from, he'd just lie and say his savings account. In actuality, the money was Gilberts. It turns out his brother has been saving a huge chunk of money without telling had been planning on spending this money one a lifetime's worth of education at different colleges, but never felt well enough to attend. As Gilbert's next of kin, Ludwig was entrusted with his brother's finances after his passing. It had actually astounded Ludwig just the sheer amount of money Prussia had, because Gilbert never let on that he had a modest fortune. A trip to the bank secured the funds. A thick wad of notes, a book, and a cleaned out living room later, Ludwig was ready for England's arrival.
Germany was nervously pacing the living room when a rushed knock pounded on his front door. The German rushed to open the front door, and was greeted with a less than happy Arthur. The small man shoved a medium box into ludwigs arm with enough force to push the German back a bit. It was obvious that this was the last place Arthur wanted to be.
"I'll have you know that I'm missing a really important meeting with visiting diplomats, so this better not be some fucking prank."
"I swear its not," Ludwig defended, setting the box down on the floor. He grabbed the envelope on the table with the notes and gave it to Arthur.
"What is this?" Arthur asked as he snatched the envelope from ludwigs hands.
"500,000, as promised."
England's spiny fingers opened the envelope to peer inside. Astonishment spread into his eyes when Atrhur realized Ludwig wasn't kidding about the money. He sniffed up a cutting remark, and stuffed the envelope in his coat pocket before taking a deep breath. It seemed the money had calmed him down a bit. "And the book?"
Germany presented the fagril collection of pages. Arthur went to grab them, but Ludwig quickly moved away from his eager hands. "You get it when we are done."
Arthur rolled his eyes, "Of course." The brit peered around the room. "I see that you were serious about this then."
"Why would I not be."
Arthur shrugged as he went to the kitchen to clean his hands, much more composed now that Ludwig had confirmed he understood the severity of this process. "Most people are not when it comes to these things. They think it's like some ouija board. Like a little telephone game where they can just hang up one once something scary happens. But its not like that. It's like a gateway that can't be closed once it's opened. That being said" he pointed to Ludwig, "Don't try any shit on me. Magic users can sense shifts in energy fields. You're asking for trouble doing this in the first place. Best you don't make me your enemy."
Ludwig sighed "I'm not here to make enemies. If that was the point, you wouldn't be here."
Arthur sighed and flicked his hands dry of water "Well, I want to get this done as soon as possible, so if you can get me what I need, we can get started."
Ludwig nodded, and spent the next 30 minutes explaining the process. It was a big risk to show Arthur the texts because he didn't know if the smaller man would understand them. If Arthur did, it would have called off the entire spell. The truth was, this was a necromancy spell. There was no "final goodbye" involved in this. No well wishing for the dead. This was a spell of healing. Healing the dead. This spell was not a goodbye, but rather, a hello.
It took two hours for the two blonde men to prepare the ceremony. Salt lines around the house needed to be cast to stop any clashing souls and to protect Ludwig's home from uninvited entities. Gilbert's hair would need to line the door or window of whichever entrance his soul was allowed to enter. A pentagram was made, full of complex symbols and homage to the gods of old. At each point, a bowl of crushed herbs symbolizing each stage of life. Candles lay around the outer rim of the circle, and inside the utmost center, a small altar for Gilbert, composed of pictures, blood, and clothes. The token of enchantment was Gilbert's dog tags, which Ludwig was instructed to wear during the entirety of the spell. All lights were turned off in the house, all energy cut out. Arthur was very serious about ensuring there were no disturbances. Once everything was in place, the enchantment began.
Germany was not familiar with these types of rituals. The spell itself, based on the information Arthurt believed, would focus its energy on a person who would act as an interpreter between the living and the dead. This would be Ludwig, since he was the one who wanted to "communicate" with his brother. The dog tags served as a token Germany could use to "visit" the dead. However, what England did not know was that this ritual was actually a spell to wake the dead, by using a relative of shared memories to jar a corpse. The token piece, the dog tags, would act as a talisman for dark magic. It would contain the magic needed to bring the dead alive. In order to work as intended, the talisman must be shared between the interpreter and the deceased. The spell will not work until Germany is able to transfer the dog tags onto his brother's neck, and there it would have to remain until the passing of the next sabbath day. Or in this case, tomorrow at midnight. The whole situation was time sensitive and finicky. Any one thing off, any wrong movement, slip up of words, and the spell would crumble, taking it's spell casters with it.
It was meticulous and nerve wracking. Ludwig wasn't even sure it would work. The way Arthur's tongue rolled the ancient languages was spine chilling. His words sounded like he was communing with the devil. Every twisted lick of vowels brought dark energy into the house. Ludwig could feel it seeping in through the walls, dripping from the ceiling, and spreading from the floor. It was terrifying. Fog rose from the wooden floor and licked at Ludwig's ankles while the air dropped to freezing temperatures. Eerie bursts of wind radiated outwards from the pentagram. This caused the candles to flicker and cast ghostly shadows against the wall. England himself was terrifying to watch. His eyes had blacked out completely, clouded with magic that had tainted his soul centuries ago. Arthur's face became possession of evil dwellings lurking just outside the walls. Ludwig was so preoccupied with the physical distortions of England that he didn't realize that he also was experiencing the black magic travel through him. His skin had shifted to a grey color, and ice cold, spiny black veins were blooming from his heart and stretching over his skin. The dogtags glowed with an intense heat, burning the skin they rested on, but ludwig kept them on. Failure to complete the spell was a better motivator than the comfort of his own body. When England finally muttered the last words, there was a burst of air, causing the flames of all the candles to blow out instantly. The fog furiously swirled into the air and there was a momentary surge of gravity so intense that the both of them gasped as the weight of their bodies were pitted against the ground. Arthur ended up collapsing on the floor, while Ludwig grabbed for a wall to support his weight. In a few moments, the chilly fog cleared, and the electricity and lights automatically turned on.
The two were shocked. Both of them stared at each other and blinked.
"Did...did it work?" Ludwig approached the words slowly, straightening himself.
England got off the ground. "It should. My magic skills are a bit old but," he dusted himself off "We're both okay and everything was performed as it should be." The Brit took a deep breath before approaching Ludwig. He kicked the salt pentagram, disabling its power, and looked straight into the German's eyes.
"Ludwig, I need you to listen to me carefully. You are now connected to the dead. This is serious. You are not safe. Do not unline your house until the spell is complete in full and the transaction is over. Dark magic is serious, serious business. What happens now, you'll have to deal with on your own. I can't keep getting myself involved in these things. It's corrupting. Do NOT come to me for help. You understand? I will not help you past this. Consider my involvement with this permanently terminated."
Ludwig nodded. He figured as much. "I understand."
Arthur nodded, "I hope you mean that." He put his hand out. "Now, the thing we talked about. I need to be on my way."
Ludwig thickly swallowed, and gave Arthur the weathered book of the dead. He did not want to depart with it, but he arguably didn't need it anymore. It's purpose has been fulfilled. "Be careful with it."
"You don't need to worry about it. It will be taken care of."
Ludwig hesitantly nodded. It wasn't all that reassuring but he's had to trust it. He watched Arthur gather his things, leaving the mess of the spell on the floor. Arthur grabbed his coat off the wall and tucked the book carefully in his bag. "I'll be billing you my travel expenses home." The blonde thrusted the door open, then looked back over his shoulder, "Oh and Ludwig,"
The German stared at him.
"You better not have been lying to me. For your sake" The smaller man slammed the door behind him.
Ludwig took a deep, shaky breath. He'll be honest, Arthur's warning rocked him a bit. Did England know Ludwig was lying to him? Ludwig was never really a good liar so maybe Arthur could see through him. For his brother's sake, he hoped Arthur kept his promise about staying out of Ludwig's business. Now that he was alone, Ludwig was able to fully realize what had happened. Ludwig bit back a small smile. He had done it. He would get to see his brother soon.
It took about an hour for Ludwig to clean up. He heeded Arthur's warning and left the salt lines on all the windows and walls. To be safe, Ludwig also lined the basement with salt. This would be where his brother would stay while he got better. Speaking of, he had to pick his brother up to complete the spell. It was roughly 9 pm now. The lonely, cold stealth of night would hide Ludwig while he stole his brother from the grave. There was much to prepare for.
….
Ludwig arrived at the cemetery at 11 at night, armed with sheets, a body bag, a shovel and flashlight, a sturdy pocket knife, a crow bar, and a lot of grit. This would not be an easy task. England's warning rang in his head while he started turning dirt. There was a lot of risk and danger that was involved with being here. It is a serious offense to grave rob. Time was precious and Ludwig was by himself. The grave being freshly dug and his sheer strength were the only thing Ludwig could rely on.
It was hard, gruesome work. It took 2 hours to finally unearth the casket that his brother lay in. Ludwig shoved dirt, crushed flowers, and dropped tokens aside as he precariously stood over the black box. The flag was in the way between him and his brother's casket. A quick rip! with a pocket knife took care of the issue. He felt bad about ripping the flag but it was only a small casualty compared to the severity of this project. Using the crow bar, he pried the casket open and was met face to face with his brother's corpse. The flashlight shined brightly down on Gilbert's body, causing Ludwig to flinch before quickly turning it off. Maybe it was best the light stayed off so he didn't have to stare continuously at Gilbert's waxed skin.
The next part was tricky. He would need to transport his brother out the casket and into the car. His brother was so stiff and fragile. Germany didn't truly feel like the body was a person. It would have been easy to just toss the corpse around had it been anyone but his brother. The carcass was clunky, awkward, and heavy. Ludwig tried not to pull on the head too much, fearing he'd pop his brother's head straight off with enough force. Wet squishes faintly sounded while the body was dragged out, Ludwig being able to feel a slush of movement underneath the clothes. He tried not to think about it. It was a slow, fearful process, and the german was relieved when he finally got his brother in the body bag. By a stroke of luck, Germany was able to get his brother in the car and all the dirt back in the grave before sunrise.
In a few more hours, in the wake of the Sunday morning, Ludwig had his brother's corpse on the floor of his basement. The German took a deep breath so he could brace himself for the work needed to be done so his brother could return to him. Shaky, gloved hands carefully pulled at the zipper on the black bag that was placed over a tarp. Ludwig squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding, not wanting to face the corpse in the light of day. It was inevitable of course, since there was prep work that needed to be done, and Ludwig grimaced when he finally opened his eyes.
Ludwig winced when he saw his brother in the light of the morning. Gilbert looked like he had swollen almost twice his size. That's probably why he looked so stuffed. The smell was awful. And truly awful. Ludwig almost gagged being so close. This was the last thing Ludwig wanted to do, but the cadaver needed to be undressed. Ludwig started by removing the iron cross still clutched in the lifeless gloves. The military award, badges, ranks, and honors joined the cross in a pile on the floor. When the gloves were removed, Ludwig froze. The hands were so amazingly different from Gilbert's face. It was unsettling just how…alive Gilbert's hands looked. Pink bloomed from where the knuckles and joints were. Ludwig remembered his regret only the day before, and gingerly laid his rough hand on top of the dried out fingers.
"Soon brother" he whispered, closing his eyes to take a moment and truly visualize being able to hold his brother's hands for another day. But he couldn't waste time.
The German continued stripping the corpse, laying aside the uniform in neat folded piles. When he got to the plastic "clothing" underneath that shielded the clothes from the body, Ludwig almost threw up. It looked like the soup of the dying. Bodily fluids sloshing around composed of god knows what. And It reeked….terribly. Ludwig grabbed a bucket and made a small puncture to drain the fluid, which only made the smell worse. Once the fluid was in the bucket, he was quick to flush it down the toilet and move on to cutting the plastic off the body.
It wasn't the first time Ludwig had seen his brother naked. They've been naked loads of times together. But this was completely different. When the corpse was finally stripped down, Ludwig was confronted with a very different reality then the one he knew of his brother. There were blisters of gas all over grey, swollen flesh, and his brother's stomach looked like it might pop at any given moment. When Germany pressed his hand on the abdomen, it was firm and swollen. It made Ludwig feel sick. The skin was a reddish purple hue, and the complete left side of the body was spotted with deep bruises. The cuticles had recessed to give Gilbert long and spiny toes and fingers. Ludwig had to use a towel to dab at his brother's shifting skin to clean up the fluid. When he pulled the plugs out of Gilbert's nose and ears, a reddish foam dribbled out. Ludwig was getting more and more nauseous the farther he got along.
The hardest part though was fixing the face. Ludwig had to lift the fragil lids of his brother's eyes and remove the cap that kept them closed. It left his brother's milked over eyes staring into the abyss. The cloudy white felt like a sheath shrouded over to eyes to keep the soul from returning. This was the most jarring part of Gilbert, and it made Ludwig so uncomfortable that he had to place a cloth over the eyes of his brother. When the German moved on to the jaw, he had to part the lips and use wire cutters to snap the wire holding the jaw shut. Ludwig could imagine the needle going through his jaw and septum while he pulled out the wires, and shuttered at the feeling. When the jaw was released, it hung open, a stench waving in the air and foam dribbling out. This too was covered with a cloth. By the time Sunday evening had rolled around, Ludwig had a clean, dry corpse on his basement floor with a fresh set of clothes.
Finally, the moment he had waited for. His brother was ready. With shaking hands, Ludwig removed Gilbert's dog tags from around his neck and slid it over Gilbert's own. Ludwig held his breath after doing so, waiting to see if anything would happen. When he was confident his brother was not going to move, he let out a deep sigh. Once the sabbath passed, Prussia would be up and about again.
Pushing himself off the floor, Germany made the decision that it was time for bed. Prussia's iron cross was grabbed off the floor and strung around Germany's neck, as a comfort and as a good luck charm. Ludwig had not slept for over 24 hours. He brushed the hair from his eyes, stretched, and headed to the door. Ludwig gazed at his brother one more time, whispered, "I will see you tomorrow," and turned off the light. It was time for them to rest.
The sun crept over Ludwigs eyes at the break of dawn. He blinked in his bed, rubbed his eyes, and then remembered everything that had happened in the last two days. Like a bullet, he was out of his bed, rushing to get to the basement. Ludwig held his breath when he got to the basement door, trying to listen to anything that might be on the other side. There were faint scuffs behind the door. Had...had it worked?.His heart beat out his chest as Ludwig slowly opened the door.
In the center of the room stood Gilbert Beilschmidt.
Germany swallowed, a mix of emotions all trying to shove out at once. "Good morning brother."
…..
Norway was knitting by a fire when a sudden chill of ice ran down his spine. He felt his hair creep up and he cautiously set down his needles. Something was not right.
