Archive of Our Own

Berlin Palace: Berlin, Kingdom of Prussia. January 18, 1891 

Expectations always came in a dress and a mirror, her reflection smudged with disdain. They claimed it was blush to enhance her natural beauty. Germany wished it was blood. 

"Lady Germany, sit up straight so we can finish pinning the flowers to your hair. And stop your sulking already — it makes you look unpleasant."

Germany fixed her posture moodily when scolded by her maid Elaine. No longer slouching, Germany tugged at the choker necklace wrapped around her neck. Three rows of pearls shined in the sun, the jewel heavy on her clavicle.

"I do not want a debutante." 

Elaine rolled her eyes as she stepped in front of Germany and balanced a hairpin between her teeth. Arms reached high, her maid stood in front of Germany to pin the cornflowers to her curled and voluminous hairdo, white and blue so beautiful to her honey-blond hair. On her wooden vanity sat the large white hat with even more blue cornflowers flowers pinned to it. 

"We know. You've only been saying that for the past five hours," Elaine said, done fixing her hair. The middle-aged woman smiled as she gazed at her work. "Oh, look at you. You're so beautiful, Lady Germany. They had to have written Rapunzel after you." 

"Yes, I too wish for whatever man that gazes at me to bleed through his eyes and become blind so he may never look at me again." 

"What is wrong with you?" Elaine muttered. "Just take the compliment." 

"I do not want a debutante." 

Elaine stepped back behind her, ready to put on her hat. Aged hands swiped the hat bought from Paris to fix it on Germany's stubborn head. 

"Be more excited about this. Today's your big day. This is what you have always wanted, no? For Prussia to recognize you?" 

"Yes, but as an equal," Germany said, crossing her arms and hating the white dress wrapped around her bust and waist, the skirt brushing against her ankles. Her heels clicked against the floor as she moved restlessly. "I do not wish to be paraded as his cattle! This is the most horrid thing that could happen to me." 

Elaine fixed Germany's hat that now cast a shadow on her face. "There are worse things in life than this."

Eaine pushed the pin in her hair further back, making Germany wince. Her scalp hurt. "This is a party meant just for you. Your brother has gone through great lengths to arrange this for you. Don't cause a fuss about it. He wants you to enjoy it." 

Germany touched the blue feather sticking out the large, fashionable hat. "I never desired it in the first place. How can I enjoy something I never asked for?"  

"France will be there." 

Germany's heart skipped. "And?" 

Her maid smiled, leaning down on her. "I know you wouldn't want to appear homely in front of him. Does that not make this more tolerable?" 

"No. I do not care." 

"Your flushed cheeks say something else." 

Germany glanced at her pinkened cheeks. This wasn't from rouge. 

"I could say the same to you for Prussia!"

"It pains me greatly you are not more grateful for this, yes," the older woman said dramatically. "How I wish to be you, Lady Germany. He's a fine older brother. A very fine brother." 

"Please drool somewhere else." 

Her maid ignored her as she looked at herself through the mirror. "Should I put on a blond wig?"

"No. My brother likes women with wavy brown hair." 

"Really?" Elaine smiled sweetly, her pink lips happy. "Maybe that's why I was able to convince him to invite France. I will expect a grand thank you later tonight for my services in the war I had to go through for that."

Germany turned her head, her heart racing faster as she thought about her Western neighbor. "I do not entertain the thought of a man in my future. His attendance means nothing. But I will commend you for swaying my mule of an older brother. Shall you take my place instead as the woman of celebration for that great achievement?" 

Her maid laughed. "If I could, I would." She became excited, her green eyes lighting up. "Oh, I cannot wait to hear all about the most handsome bachelors of Europe in one place. If you don't enjoy it, I will!" Her maid's dress twirled as she spun around, cleaning up the mess they had made in her room.

Germany got up from her seat now that they were done. Flattening her white gown, she checked in the mirror for wrinkles. Elaine told her this dress had been tailored from the most expensive fabrics by the most fashionable seamstress in Paris. She would be as beautiful as a swan, they said. 

"Your corset sits comfortably, yes?" Elaine asked. The clock ticked as it always did in this childhood bedroom where dreams went to die. 

Germany put on her white satin gloves. "Yes. Nothing is too tight."

Germany looked out the window, wishing the sun did not set so soon. It was only three thirty in the afternoon, yet the sky bled purple and pink for a cold night. Her maid rushed to her closet to grab a coat, a woman without her coat a scandalous one. 

Heavy was the sudden weight of a luxurious black fur coat from North America. Dyed from only real fur from the Canadian wilderness, her figure became engulfed in a high, thick collar and even bigger sleeves. With the long coat left open, the cinch of her small waist was still visible, the dress making her naturally wide hips seem even wider. 

"Oh, you look so stunning, Lady Germany." Elaine's eyes softened. "You've grown up without me knowing it. You're having your debutante now." She grabbed a handkerchief and started blotting her wet eyes. "You're not a little girl anymore. This is the end for me." She sniffed, looking at the time and yelling. "Where is he?! The event starts at six!" 

"I am sure he will be here shortly," Germany said, wishing for the seconds to tick slower. The Sanssouci Palace wasn't far away from Berlin, after all. 

"He better —"

Knock. Knock. 

"Are you ready, West?" came a muffled voice through the shut wooden door. 

Elaine squealed in excitement at the sound of her brother’s voice, Germany standing by the door with dread in her stomach at his impeccable timing. 

"She's ready, Lord Prussia!" Elaine said with a giant smile as she unlocked the door handle and swung it open eagerly awaiting for his reaction. "Come in!" 

Germany stood before Prussia, dolled up as she was supposed to be. She waited for his words since this was his fantastic idea. 

Prussia came dressed as regal as he was supposed to be, his noir military uniform with medallions of silver and gold on his broad shoulders and chest. Prussia would always be handsome with a figure as muscular as his and a personality as brash and confident as his. Distinguished and powerful, her brother stood tall and straight in the posture that always came with a soldier. 

Prussia seemed at a loss for words at what to say when gazing at her. "You look…"  

Germany jolted when she felt her maids' small hands touch her shoulders. "She's as beautiful as a freshly bloomed snowdrop flower, isn't she, Lord Prussia?’

Germany wanted to kick her maid. She was making things even weirder than they needed to be. 

"Uh. Yeah. You look nice," Prussia said awkwardly. 

"Thank you. You look appropriate," Germany said without much emotion. "Shall we go?" 

"Right. Thank you Elaine. We should be going now." 

Elaine wasn't the least bit disturbed by the atmosphere. He said her first name when he had no reason to. 

"I will see you when you return, Lady Germany!” Elaine waved her handkerchief around, already brought to tears again. “Have fun! And remember to smile!" 

Germany nodded and stepped forward to leave the room with her things. It was time to get sent to her funeral in white. 

The door shut behind her as she stood in the empty hallway with Prussia. She said nothing as they walked toward the front entrance, her steps slow from the dumb heels she had to wear. He marched to her pace,  and Germany wished for her hunting boots instead, the white heels uncomfortable in their echoes down the hall.  

Once outside, the black horses and carriage waited for her. Silence. There was still silence between the two as she did not attempt to start a conversation with him. 

He held her hand as she ascended the carriage, and she couldn't look at him. He was wearing gloves as she was, his hand large and warm to help her up the stairs. Her cheeks flamed with anger at the scene they were making, and her eyes were securely kept on the wooden steps so she did not trip. He was set on displaying her, wasn't he, men always dreadful and possessive and cold. 

Germany sat on the farthest end of the carriage. No, she would not smile. No one gave her a reason to. 

"Sit tight, West," Prussia said, not stepping inside. "Need to talk to the driver." 

Prussia shut the door to leave her in the stuffy black metal carriage, Germany fixing her skirt and hat as she looked out the window. She preferred this silence and solitude much better. Germany was granted peace for the moment to have her thoughts alone. 

Why couldn't this have been done in the spring when the weather is nice? No one has a party in the middle of winter, she thought moodily. If we're going to do this, at least do it right. 

The coat on her felt heavy. 

Her time alone didn't last long when Prussia stepped inside the carriage and shut the door. 

"Ready?" he asked. "You're not missing anything are you?"

My desire to live, maybe.

"No." 

"Alright, sweet, let's get out of here," Prussia said cheerfully. 

Germany said nothing. 

She kept her gaze firmly on the window when the carriage began to move, the horizon turning darker and bluer. Suffocation, suffocation, this choker a reminder of his gloved hand on her neck as she sat still and endured whatever he saw in her growing body. 

Germany glanced at him through her periphery, Prussia occupying himself with writing down a report he had yet to get around to the day prior. She supposed she should be grateful he was home with her, Prussia often out for weeks traveling to speak with royals, the clergy, politicians, businessmen, military leaders, and whoever else needed his attention. Now no longer a child, Prussia saw no reason to worry about his absence. The life of a nation was often a lonely one, he said. It would be best for her to learn not to be so reliant on him.

She adjusted herself in the seat. 

He is incredibly handsome. 

The thought didn't trigger a reaction in her. It was an objective observation. 

Her eyes trailed to his arms covered by the black uniform. He swelled the uniform nicely, his biceps strong and his chest firm with a thick neck. She couldn't see his figure well since he was clothed, but she could see the outline of his broad shoulders, his long legs covered by equally black tailored breaches. She could see his muscular thighs on the carriage seat, his feet planted on the ground. His uniform sat flatly against his stomach, which she knew hid his flexed abdomen creased with lean, strong muscle. He was taller than her and looked like the perfect soldier. His jaw was sharp and broader than hers, his nose straight without a hump of any sort like hers if her nose wasn't more curved, and she didn't notice it before, but he had high cheekbones as well. 

His irises are beautiful. 

Hers were unexciting. She held the same blue common among the Germanic people, her shade perhaps a bit lighter than the average population, but nothing divine. Prussia, however, held a resplendent magenta-red. 

I wish my eyes were like that, she thought, looking down. She looked like any old human girl like this. If she wanted, she could run away from the Berlin Palace, live with a peasant, and rouse no suspicion. She didn't look like his sister like this. No, she wanted something unique that only nations could have. She wanted to be part of this exclusive genetic heritage. She was his sister. Why hadn't she been born with such beautiful eyes? 

He's handsome but what about it? she thought to distract herself from such sad thoughts. He was attractive and friendly, but she didn't feel the overwhelming breathlessness she had read in poems. She didn't want to flush and run away from him, touch herself at the thought of him, or kiss him. He was an attractive man, sure, but…

Does he think of me more than I do him? Why else would he do something so horrible to me? 

She watched him write something down in the journal he brought, which inadvertently led her to his hands. She had never thought much of it, but she supposed now, looking at him, he had large, powerful hands that could grip a sword and pierce soldiers as nothing more than an animal. Germany has never stabbed someone, felt blood and flesh resist her blade, and the physicality of it made her squirm. 

Prussia told her she was spoiled in a laugh before. He had patted her hair down, his Häschen like a princess in the Palace. She had never hunted an animal before, had she? She's never killed for her dinner, had she? She had replied, of course not. That was too cruel. He had smiled fondly, saying that perhaps her hands weren't meant for slaughter then. He had then told her there was no reason for her to be a butcher when she could be an empire. It left her feeling inadequate as she had asked in return if he had hunted for his food before, killed the boar and cow the cooks served. Boastful and confident, he had said, of course, he had. He was the awesome Prussia. 

She's never hunted. She's never killed an animal before.

Germany could not stomach feeling a man’s organs puncture from her blade so that the sound of bones cracking and shattering came after, alongside the sight of her opponent hastening their last breath to scream a visceral blood-soaked death. To kill with a sword required proximity, and when Prussia killed, he was centimeters away from his enemy as he smiled and took his blade out to see the body of flesh fall and die in agony. Writhing and screaming, Prussia grinned when met with the look of terror, the scent of iron and fear thick in the hot, frenetic air of battle. There was something necessary about killing with your hands, Prussia told her. It made out-of-touch nations like them realize how fragile the human body was. 

She preferred the use of a gun. It was very feminist, you see, a woman with a rifle. It was the greatest equalizer between the sexes. Death no longer relied on one's physical strength or gender. With a gun, any person of any stature or sex could murder. It was wonderful! Only skill and ammunition mattered to be powerful. Even a man thought twice about approaching a woman with a gun for all the pride they had in being the stronger sex. Germany did not mind death as long as it was clean. She detested blood on her hands. 

If the day came when she controlled the military, she swore to make it the strongest, modern military the world has ever seen. If all the nations thought like Prussia, then world domination did not seem unattainable. 

Europe will fear her. 

There will come the day when they will fear a woman. 

But that couldn't happen if he paraded her like a spectacle in the name of German Unity. 

"What's got you sighing up a storm over there?" he asked her, not looking up.

"Do you actually care?" 

He put down the pen he was writing with. "Yeah, that's why I asked. Something's obviously bothering you."

"How astute of an observation." 

He gave her a look. "Come on West. Out with it. You look miserable over there."

Good. 

“…”

“…”

“…”

"You're just going to give me the silent treatment?" 

"There is nothing more to say that you do not already know.”

He closed his journal as he crossed his leg lazily. "I know you're not thrilled at the idea, but come on West, lighten up." He grinned. "It's a party. We're getting shit-faced." 

"This is a party for you." 

"No, for you," he said, playing with his black pen in between his fingers. "This is your day more than mine."

She frowned. "Laughable."  

"What do you mean?"

"You are aware of what I mean."

He stopped playing with his pen. "No, not really."

She glared. "I do not wish to marry you! I will never want to marry you!" 

Germany hoped her rejection wouldn't cause a terrible schism among them. She was (deep down) terrified of what she had just said. Prussia was not one not to get what he wanted when he hunted for it, pursued it, and if he genuinely had created her to be his bride — had fought wars for her, nurtured her, educated her, fed her, and loved her for over twenty years now…

Prussia's face bloomed red, his back meeting the window as he backed away from her. "What?! I don't want to marry you!" 

Her head snapped toward him. "You do not?" 

He groaned, his hand going down his face. "Ugh, what kind of rumors have you been hearing?"

"You have been rejecting marriage proposals. It is not a rumor — even Elaine told me that you wished to marry me!" 

"Is that what you think this is about?" he asked as if everything made sense. 

She gestured to herself. "I am dressed in white. How much more obvious could it be?" 

"This isn't my proposal to you. You're my sister." He made a face. "This isn't the Saarland." 

She scowled at the common ridicule of her southern region. It was an easy joke, but she didn't find it funny. Her lands would never be like his. The great Prussian nobles were always better than her. 

"There is nothing wrong with the Saarland."  

"Naw, there's plenty wrong with the Saarland." 

"Then there plenty wrong with me," she said, looking out the window.  

Prussia tucked away his journal into his uniform. "You know that isn't what I mean." He faced her to give her his full attention. "We're not getting married. This event is not a covert way to bed you. That's not really my style." 

"Then why are you always calling me pretty?" she asked suspiciously. 

He waved his hand around as the carriage rocked slightly from a bump in the road. "I say it because it's true. You've always got suitors hounding on my ass so duh. That's not a result of an ugly sister." 

"But if you look at my body, call me pretty, and reject marriage proposals so that we can be an empire together, doesn't that mean you want to court me?" 

He looked freaked out by her wording. "Geeze, when you say it like that, I sound like a pedo. That's just me doing my job as an awesome older brother." 

"Oh." Her foot went up and down as the carriage bounced gently on the road. "...So am I not suitable for you?" 

She knew she sounded rather complicated, acting disgusted and now hurt that he didn't see her as bride-worthy. She didn't want him to marry her, but she hoped it wasn't because he thought of her as a terrible woman who could never live up to his expectations. 

He sighed. "It's not that. You're my little sister. That’s gross. I'm also way too old for you. That would be a massive abuse of power on my part. Even if we weren't related, that's weird." 

"Why? What is wrong with it? I am eighteen years of age," she said, looking at him. 

He stared at her. She blushed at the silence.

"What?" 

"You're eighteen. You're still a teenager. A child." 

She didn't understand. "I disagree. I will be twenty years old soon." 

"You've barely been alive for twenty years. I've been alive for over eight hundred. In what way is that age difference reasonable to you?" 

"..."

"..."

"...I do not see how that changes anything," she said honestly. 

He placed his hands on his knees. "Look, Germany, if a man pursues a woman much, much younger than him, that's not a good sign. It's unawesome and weird." 

"It is? Young men seem immature," she said, hating all the men her age. They were all children stuck in the body of a young adult, the male species so slow to grow and develop common sense. 

He turned his head to look out the window. "Rather you be with someone immature than a man that knows how to abuse his power." 

She listened curiously. 

"Your mind isn’t the same as mine," he said carefully. "You're still growing and developing. You can't make the same decisions I can given your small life experience. You don't know any better. If I lusted after you, wanted you all to myself, it would say a lot more about me than it would you."  

"No one in the palace holds qualms about it," she pointed out. 

He shifted uncomfortablely. "Because we look so similar in age. I guess if I wanted to, I could marry you. We'll be stuck in these bodies forever, but I know better. You grew abnormally fast. You shouldn't have this appearance. You'll always be my brat of a sister that pooped her diapers. I wiped your butt." 

She blushed furiously. "Prussia!" 

He laughed. "It's true." He rubbed her cheeks that didn't hold the same chubby fat as they used to with his knuckles. "You're my little spoiled West."

"I am not spoiled." 

Prussia reached for a cigar. "Just say thank you."

With America exporting so much tobacco, a man worth something could only be seen with his cigar. She hoped he wouldn't smoke inside the carriage. Germany did not wish for the scent to overwhelm her perfume and sink into the fibers of her new dress. 

"I am still mad at you," she said when he went ahead and smoked anyway. 

He reached into his uniform for a lighter. The cigar burned orange as smoke became a haze between them when the flame caught at the end. 

"Of course you are." 

"Yes, well." She looked out the window as she processed what had just happened. In silence, they remained as he waited for what she would say. Eventually, words came to her. 

"I am glad," she said, relieved everyone had only been gossiping. "I feared you held unrequited feelings." 

He dragged the cigar out as she smelled him from the other side. "I guess I would have to suck it up if I did."

She moved, shocked. "Would you not have taken me anyway?" 

He looked at her strangely. "Um, no? I'm not some kind of animal." He furrowed his brows. "What kind of impression do you have?" 

"Well...when you want something, you set out to do everything you can for it. So I figured if you desired me so greatly, you would also take me too." 

"No, I wouldn't do that," he said firmly. "You're my little sister." He rubbed at his neck. "I know technically, legally, we're not actually equal, but you're not just my possession, you know. I could marry you, but I won't. That's unawesome."

"Why do you consider me your sister, then?" 

He put his lighter away. "What do you mean?" 

"Titles are getting in the way. You view me as a younger sister when we are not blood-related. It is you that imposed the label of kin on us. It seems foolish now that I think about it." Her throat tightened. "You went to war to unite my land to gain control of central Europe away from France. You were under no obligation to raise me nor take care of me. You knew I would one day grow up to be a woman. And that we will one day be together to form a union as German states. It would have benefited you greatly to have me abandoned so we may have been betrothed as I am now, a woman you could not have known." Her heels hurt. "You would have reaped the benefits you have sowed. But now, neither of us get anything."  

"Germany, what the actual hell are you talking about?" His tone was shocked but mainly upset. She didn't know what for, but she supposed it was expected. Men never liked observant women. 

"I suppose it no longer matters," she said, their positions clear, nothing to be changed now. 

"This isn't the time to be passive aggressive. If you have something to say, say it," Prussia said, too dense to figure out anything on his own. 

"There would have been independence through an arranged marriage," she hissed. "I would have not been lied to. I would have not had my hopes risen to then be cruelly ridiculed. If you had not raised me as your sibling, then I could have lived a different life. I'm not Hungary. And you are not Austria." 

He threw up his hands. "For god's sake, how many times do I have to tell you — you're not getting married!”  He put them back down, irritated. “It's a coming of age party. That's it. You need to interact with the other nations on the continent — make your presence known." He paused. "And learn how to socialize better. I think you've been around my men for too long." 

Anger fueled in her chest. When she was outspoken and blunt, she was too antisocial and difficult. When she was quiet and calm, she was too agreeable and weak. Which one was it that he wanted? 

"I do not want to go to this party. Not dressed like this." 

"What's wrong with the way you're dressed?" He looked her up and down. "You look great. It can't be the dress — you like dresses." 

"You promised me you wouldn't throw this ball — you promised. And then, half a year later, you announce it without telling me. You had always been planning it." She kicked the ground with her heel. "Because despite everything you preach, you too want to appease your your nobles. Their dumb opinions matter to you." 

"Hate to break it to you, but they've always mattered," Prussia said. "And they will matter for the rest of your life. Those dumb opinions are what keep us alive or dead." 

She looked out the window. 

“…”

“…”

“…”

"Germany, listen," he said when she gave him the silent treatment again. "Reputation matters — first impressions matter — more so now than ever before. Your appearance is an advantage and disadvantage. None of the other nations know how young you actually are. All they know is that a new empire was declared twenty years ago and they are now a full grown adult. That in itself is frightening. You understand that, right?"

"I still believe you are exaggerating as you always do." 

"No, I'm not. Those losers don't know what's coming to them." He smiled devilishly. "And that's exactly how it should be. When we show up, they're going to be freaking out even more when they see how awesome we both are." 

"Perhaps they will think that of you," she said petulantly. "But no one will think that of me. I am not in uniform." 

He shrugged. "No one said you had to act prim and proper. If they say something stupid, just punch them. Who cares about the dress. Wearing that doesn't mean as much as you think." He blew the smoke, the windows closed from the cold to have the tobacco all swirl in the same lungs.

"Unless you think we regard Hungary differently?"

Germany looked down at her feet. "Well, perhaps not, but…."

He sighed long and exaggerated, Prussia looking at her with fondness. "Oh, baby West, there is still so much for you to learn. Listen to your awesome big brother Prussia. Come here." He patted the empty middle seat. 

She pushed herself against the door. "No." 

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. But know this for the party — nations only care about power. It's the only thing we respect because it's the only thing that can threaten us." The cigar was loose on his fingers as he pointed to her. "You're either a strong nation or a weak one. That's it. Sometimes a strong nation is a boy. Sometimes it isn't. Sometimes a weak nation is a girl. And sometimes it isn't. As long as you are feared, you will win." A grin came through the smoke. "And we, Germany, are here to win." 

"I guess we will see about that," she said as the sun left them for the night.  

"You'll see, West. You'll see." 

Sanssouci Palace: Potsdam, Kingdom of Prussia.

Germany didn't see what Prussia meant. 

They had arrived at the party early, and all they'd done during this time was make pointless conversation with nobles and politicians. Germany introduced herself politely and thanked every blandishment of her beauty tonight, her appearance expected when right beside Prussia. Around the room they went introducing themselves as the hosts, and Germany wished Prussia remembered she did not hold as much extroversion as him. She was not him. And he was not her. 

"Is this truly necessary?" she whispered tiredly to Prussia when they headed toward a gangly Danish banker downing wine as if it were water.

"Of course, it is. Don't you notice how they look at you?" 

Germany scanned the banal, ornate surroundings, not understanding what she was supposed to see. The air came alive with the swell of expected music, the rich melodies of cellos and gentle piano notes soaked into the foreign rugs with every tap of their steps. The room was a masterpiece of opulence and extravagance as gold and silver adorned every surface, glinting in the soft glow of the chandeliers overhead. Paintings and glasswork adorned the never-ending walls, each a testament to the skill and craftsmanship of the artists who created them. Everything was the same as it always was, the walls of a palace. 

"No." 

"Oh my, is that —?" she heard someone say behind her. 

"Shh! Quit your gaping!" 

A frantic murmuring echoed through, a group of finely dressed young women looking at the entranceway in anticipation. Cheeks flushed, they patted down their skirts and stomach as if to be reminded that it was still flat and sucked in. Through the gust of opening doors, a man's figure dressed in a sharp black suit and top hat walked through the crowd with his back straight and the steps light. He was a handsome man, his features intense and evenly set, with a nose straight and tall. His lips were a bit thin, and his eyebrows a bit thick, but overall he was an attractive, confident man.  

"Who is that?" Germany whispered, not understanding the sudden excitement. "A royal?" 

"That's Britain," Prussia said quietly back. 

"The empire? No," Germany said, scandalized. 

She has expected her rival to be well-put together and giant — imposing and stocky — not someone slender and pretty with frowzy blonde hair! This was the nation that ruled almost the entire world? Him? 

"He has green eyes," she said. "That cannot be him. Do not bluff with me." 

Prussia looked at her strangely. "That's him, West. His eyes have always been green." 

Well, his eyes are abnormally green. I could tell they were emerald even at this distance. That must be an indication of his status. 

Seeing someone like her didn't make her feel better.  

"He's early," Prussia said. "Should we go greet him?" 

"If you insist." 

The walk toward Britain was short, and the blond nation's impassive face nerved her. This would be her first time talking to their rival in person.  

"Hey, Britain, good to see ya," Prussia said, catching Britain's attention. "Almost thought you wouldn't show up." 

"Of course, I would," Britain said in a soothing London accent. It somehow still translated to the universal language, Germany appreciating his calming voice. It was a bit deeper than she imagined. 

Britain noticed her, and his face softened. "Hello there. It's nice to meet you. I'm Britain."   

He doesn't seem as terrible as Prussia made him out to be, she thought, pleasantly surprised. 

"I see you brought one of the German states with you," Britain said, glancing at Prussia. "I was expecting to see the German Empire with you. Is he here?"

Germany's eyes lowered. 

Nevermind. 

This fucking prick. 

"You are mist—"

"You're right," Prussia cut in before she could finish. "This is Bavaria. She looks different now, doesn't she?" 

Germany's throat tightened in the chain now wrapped around her tongue. Britain's eyes seemed appeased. 

What is he doing?! 

"Bavaria? Weren't you…" He glanced at Prussia before turning his attention to her. "You were a woman all this time?" 

"Yes. She's always been. Did you not know that?" Prussia said, with a strange look — a judgmental look. 

"Well, I—!" Britain said, getting flustered. 

"Have you always thought of me as a boy?" Germany asked, clipped. "Was I an ugly child?" 

"No, not at all—!" Britain said, appearing to get nervous. 

"You're as bad as Austria," Prussia said, laughing. The clock struck halfway through the hour of seven. "We should go. The opening will begin soon. Nice to see ya," Prussia said to leave the conversation. They bid their pleasantries to leave as Prussia extended his elbow so she could hold onto him as they walked away after Britain had turned their backs on them. It was quiet between them to let the buzz of the conversation overtake them.

"Why did you say that?" she asked as they walked. 

"Because," Prussia said, grinning, his hand in white gloves suddenly over hers. "I want to see that loser's face when he realizes the nation that has been threatening his place is a girl — a girl right in front of his face." He wanted to laugh. Prussia was always so easily amused by his pride. "Won't it be awesome to see it, West?" 

"But I am not Bavaria," she hissed. "Bavaria is dead." 

Prussia winked at her. "But he doesn't need to know that."

"He thinks I'm someone I'm not! I'm not a state that took control." 

"Shh, not so loud," he said, hushing her. "The others will hear you."

Germany did not see a single nation within ten feet of them. 

"It'll help," Prussia said quietly. "He doesn't think you're young." 

"This again," she said, exasperated. "Age does not matter."

"Don't let a dude hear you say that. Like ever." 

"I am not talking about that. I am speaking about the validity of one's position on the continental theater! Did you not say that the only thing that matters is fear?"

"Well yeah but —"

"And does it know age?" she asked impatiently. "Is cowardice gendered?" 

He faltered. "Uh. I guess not."

"Precisely. Therefore that was completely unnecessary," she said, removing herself from his elbow. Without glancing back, she walked away faster than his long stride to make her way to the stairs alone. 

Of course. 

Of course.

Of course. 

It was always highly amusing to see the things she could never change. 

And, of course, there would always be something to be ashamed of with the way she came. 

The orator's voice boomed across the grand hall, stirring a sense of anticipation among the gathered crowd below. A hushed silence descended as he paused, drawing out the suspense for a moment longer. As the orator's voice echoed, Germany's heart raced unexpectedly. She had never been one for grand entrances or public displays, but there should be nothing to fear. 

Calm down, she told herself, waiting for her call. How can I lead troops if I cannot even face a crowd? 

Holding onto her hand, she commanded it to stop clamming up. The order did not work, her heart racing even faster as the moment of her debut encroached. 

"And now, Lady Germany!"

Jolted to reality, she stood up and remembered to keep her back straight and feet together. Did her hair look okay? Was everything in place? It was too late now to notice, Germany hoping her white dress was not stained. 

From the shadows emerged Germany, her form a striking silhouette against the dimly lit background. As she took bold steps forward, the chandelier's light revealed her to be a figure of grace and poise. The audience watched in awe as she approached the balcony where Prussia stood waiting. 

Reaching his side, an immediate round of applause burst forth from the crowd below, but Germany could hardly hear it over the pounding of her own heart. The joyous outpouring of enthusiasm was overwhelming, a show of their delight at seeing the two powerful nations united in such a display of grandeur. Standing beside Prussia's regal posture, her anxiety reached a fever pitch. The cheers and applause from the crowd drowned her in nerves, so many faces looking up. What if she looked dumb? What if she wasn't what people were expecting? What if her dress was unfashionable? What if there were rumors?

Her palms began to sweat as she reached Prussia's side. Despite her anxiety, she kept a composed expression on her face. 

Germany acknowledged the crowd's adoration with a small but regal hand wave. All eyes fixed upon her and Prussia, the duo looking magnificent together. The crowd was utterly enthralled, caught up in the drama and spectacle of the moment when they appeared untouchable, wealthy, and prestigious. The moment passed in a blur, and before she knew it, Prussia was speaking. As expected, Prussia gave a short speech when holding the floor as the leading power and host of the night. 

Germany observed how he naturally held the crowd's attention with his presence and words alone, her eyes intent on him. Her gaze on him did wonders for the group when she stood beside him with admiration and respect. 

Germany slid her gaze back down at the people below her that almost appeared like ants in blobs of dresses and black suits. 

Interesting. 

Germany was grateful she wasn't expected to do more for her than stand still and quiet. Talking in front of a crowd with no purpose nerved her. Presenting did not disturb her. Leading a meeting gave her no anxiety. But showmanship? Oh, how dreaded it was. She would much rather leave it to Prussia, who reveled in theatrics, praise, and attention. 

Prussia's speech wasn't long, and another round of applause came. The party had officially begun, and the eyes were on them. 

Social cues dictated they should now mingle with those below them. So, Germany slowly descended the stairs with Prussia, careful of her shoes not slipping on the stairs as he held her arm. The steps were relatively narrow when bending in curvature as they were. 

Immediately swarms of men crowded around her as she got closer to the base of the steps. Looking down, she saw rabid dogs waiting to be fed, Germany carefully holding onto her brother.

Germany tried to school her features not to look so disgusted, but smiling did not come naturally to her, and the twitch of her lips made her feel awkward. So she remained stone-faced.

"Excuse me," she said, once at the bottom. Disinterested in everyone around her, she went through the small crowd to speak to Britain, who watched her from the outskirts. Her heart skipped when spotting France beside him. France looked as handsome as ever…Germany wished more nations kept their facial hair. Why did everyone insist on looking so clean-shaven? Wouldn't a beard and a muscular build indicate strength and power? These social conventions did not make sense to her. 

Chin held up high, she walked toward them, the crowd having parted for her as she sauntered. Not breaking eye contact, she headed straight toward Britain to confront him, the festivities high as everyone stared at her. Such attention was not suited for her, but she kept her composure. 

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she said in front of Britain and France. Perhaps Prussia was right. Seeing these arrogant, entitled men shocked was a little satisfying, Germany reveling in the thickening air between them. 

"Ah, he's embarrassed because he did not know who he was speaking to before," France said quickly, Britain and France's eyes meeting once more with something much heavier in their glances. Germany frowned, hating the silent conversation. These gazes were always loud yet unspoken. 

"Yes. He called me a German state," Germany said, watching them squirm under her cold gaze. 

For Britain, an empire, to call her, a fellow empire, nothing more than a state was as offensive as a slur between them.  

"You introduced yourself as Bavaria," Britain said in defense. "I did not know!" 

"Because it is technically correct. I am Bavaria. Among the other thirty-nine German states." She didn't want to look at France, or her confidence would clog like a London sewer. 

"That's a bit confusing, isn't it? You can understand where someone could easily make that mistake." 

"It is polite to refer to others by their name. I address you as Britain because that is your title." 

"I didn't mean to offend you..ah," he said, struggling to know what to call her. 

"Lady Germany," she said, unimpressed. 

"Lady Germany," he said, trying to save face. 

"Well, it was nice meeting you, England. Enjoy the rest of the night,” she said, aware of the offended look on the blonde's face as she walked away. 

Prussia couldn't hold in his laugh, England and France well aware of him when he was so loud. 

"The looks on their faces were great! Did you see that, West? Calling him England was great."

Germany soaked in the praise. 

"Wasn't it?" she asked, glancing at him. 

Prussia grinned at her. "The last person who did that was America. That kid's awesome. I wonder how he's been," Prussia said, smiling when remembering the North American nation causing an uneasy stir in Europe right now as well. He was an empire declaring himself as a democratic, free state. Preposterous…

Like embers blown out from the wind, her good mood burned dead.

America. The wonderous, powerful America. 

Sometimes, Prussia spoke of America as if he was the younger brother he wished he had. Tall, blond, confident, sociable, brave, and tenacious — Prussia was immensely proud of the man he had helped whip into shape a century ago. Prussia spoke of memories long before her time about him, America older and not wiser perhaps, but everything she never was. 

"Yes, I wonder how he's been, too," she said distantly. 

"I think you would like him," Prussia said, oblivious to her feelings. "He's a good kid. A little loud and thick-headed, but his heart's in the right place. It's too bad he's not here. You could have met." 

"You didn't invite him," Germany said, wondering what was so special about America. He was the only man her brother approved — no — encouraged her to have an interest in.

Prussia headed toward the table with the cake and offered to cut her slice. "No, I did. He didn't want to come. He said he doesn't like the stuffy European parties. Can't blame him — you sure you don't want any?" he asked, holding up the massive slice of cake on his plate as utensils clicked on fine white china.  

"I am fine," she said, unable to stomach so much sugar. Germany spotted a nation of interest in her periphery and touched Prussia's elbow to catch his attention when he took a bite of the cake. 

"Who is that?" she asked, glancing at the corner where a man of a great height stood well-built and robust. From this distance, she saw his pristine white scarf and black coat on broad shoulders. His hair was as white as snow, almost the same as Prussia's, with a prominent nose that suited his masculine face well. He was handsome, indeed, his smile sweet. 

"That's Russia. Or the Russian Empire now, I guess," Prussia said, putting down his fork covered in frosting. "Beside him are his sisters Ukraine and Belarus — Ukraine the oldest, Belarus the youngest."

"He is quite tall," she said, wondering who was taller — him or the Netherlands. 

"Keep it in your pants."

She flushed. "You told me he was nothing but backward!" 

Prussia laughed. "He is. I wouldn't be surprised if he walked all the way over here because he couldn't even afford a horse!" 

She glanced in Russia's direction again. It was too bad he was a Slavic nation to the East with little to no economic or cultural development — he was a dashing man. She wouldn't have minded settling down with a handsome farmer if she were an ordinary woman. Germany liked a man who could work with their hands. 

"Well, what now?" Germany asked, paying Russia little mind now. He wasn't much of a threat to her. 

"Now, we drink!" 

Germany followed him, returning her head to see if France was watching. 

He was not. 

"Yes," she said, walking quickly with him when done with the confections. "That is the only good idea you have had all night." 

Prussia laughed. A drink never lied. 

"You look like you've seen a ghost." 

Britain spun around and glared when France walked behind him with a grin. France and Britain stood by side with their backs against the wall to hide from the festivity for a bit. 

"I knew that wasn't Bavaria," Britain said, watching Germany like a hawk. "I knew I was not mistaken. They were simply trying to make a fool out of me." 

"Who do you think it is, then?" France asked. 

"I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out. None of the German states should be that strong. They are all mostly controlled by Prussia." 

"You don't think she's a German state at all?" France asked, surprised. 

Britain continued to watch them, his face never to reveal much. "No. I do not. Prussia is known for his charades." 

"Prussia goes low, but not that low mon lapin," France said. "He wouldn't introduce a human to all of us for the sake of a charade." 

"A human?" Britain said, thinking. "No, he wouldn't. Austria wouldn't let that happen." 

"Does she not look familiar?" 

Britain paused. "Is she supposed to?"

France sounded disappointed. "Nevermind." He looked out into the dancefloor again, his eyes wary. "It would be best not to get on her bad side."  

"Why?" 

"Have you not noticed?" 

"Noticed what?" Britain asked impatiently. 

"Prussia cares for her. When was the last time that happened?" 

"How am I supposed to know?" 

"Prussia doesn't care about anyone but himself yet he values her opinion. Whatever goes through her, goes to him. That should be a reason to be wary enough. Prussia is too filled with pride to let himself be swayed by someone else." 

"I am not afraid of her," Britain said, dismissively. "She's just a woman. A woman neither one of us is even sure is a nation." 

"Do you not sense her as a Gaia?" France asked, confused. 

Britain frowned. "No. That is why I assumed she was an honorary German state here for show." 

"Sounds like a personal problem. Maybe you're already getting weak," France said, amused. "I already like her." 

"I am not! She is not who she says she is!" Britain said, sure of that. "Empires are never two people. There can only be one." 

"I'm going to gather more information while you stand here and cope. The look on your face was amazing." France placed a hand over his heart. "I wish I could have captured that moment forever." 

"Piss off, frog. Who even invited you here?" 

"See you later Britain. Oops. I meant England." 

France laughed and walked before Britain could punch him in the gut. 

Germany saw her before she heard her. A young teenage girl with long blonde hair and an elegant lilac dress walked toward her way excitedly. Eyes of emerald green, her cute face sat pretty and evenly set.

"Hallo," she said in German, her voice soft like a sweet meadow spring. "My name is Liechtenstein. We are neighbors." She smiled brightly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Germany!" 

Germany blinked, surprised. 

Liechtenstein? The tiny nation by Austria's side? 

She had no idea such a small state would come. 

Germany felt her cheeks warm up. This was the first female nation she had ever met outside of family...! Excitement bubbled inside of her as she gazed down at the teen. 

"Hello," she said, glad to speak her mother tongue. "It is nice to meet you, Liechtenstein." 

"You made quite the entrance," Liechtenstein said, bubbly. "You look so beautiful, Lady Germany. Where did you obtain your dress?" 

"Oh, um," she looked down at herself as if that would jog her memory of anything. "I had it made in Paris." 

From what shop or seamstress in Paris — God, if she knew. 

Germany felt terrible she couldn't answer the girl's question better, but Liechtenstein was easily pleased. Her eyes widened as she put her hands together. Germany couldn't sense a single mean bone in this girl. 

"Oh, really? No wonder it such high fashion. I regret not making an earlier introduction. I believed you to be a noble by Prussia's side," she said with no malice. 

"Ah, no. Prussia wanted the reveal to be dramatic, so he did not tell anyone," she said, wishing she could have spent time with the Gaias instead of the humans for so long. This ball was only so long…!

Liechtenstein giggled. "That sounds like him. Have you met the other nations yet?" 

Germany glanced around. "I have spoken with Britain but that is about it. I have been meaning to introduce myself to the others." 

Liechtenstein looked out at the dancefloor, her eyes knowing who was a nation and who was not. Germany wished she had those large green eyes too. 

"Ah, I am jealous of you," Liechtenstein said softly. She smiled, looking out onto the dance floor. "All the other male nations want to dance with you." 

Her heart skipped a beat as she glanced around. "Really?" 

"It is not a common occurrence to have a new female empire," Liechtenstein said brightly. "It is exciting!" 

"Really?"

"Why, of course,” Liechtenstein chirped. "It is even better when the nation is beautiful." Liechtenstein patted down her dress. "I do not think my body will ever grow past this point despite being older than most nations here."

"How old are you?"

From what she remembered reading about the Holy Roman Empire, the little girl had to be around one hundred something. Liechtenstein was founded in 1719 and then became independent in 1866. Liechtenstein, a small rural country, relatively uninvolved with war or politics, looked her age. Liechtenstein was a young, small country. 

"I will be nine hundred years of age soon," Liechtenstein said.

HER?

"You? You are older than Prussia?" Germany asked in complete disbelief. "When were you born?"

"Sometime in the late 900s. My memory leaves me when recalling that far back," Liechtenstein said, laughing. "I do not appear my age, do I?" 

It's taken her THIS long to barely look fourteen? I was fourteen by year sixteen of my nationhood! 

Germany stood in complete shock. Prussia had always said her human-like growth spurts, mental and physical, were an anomaly and incredibly, incredibly rare for nations like them, but it had never sunk in before just how fast she grew. Liechtenstein was older than Prussia and looked like that. The girl was barely even 5'1. 

"Do you know my brother well, then?" Germany asked, still in disbelief that this teen was Prussia's senior. 

"No, he was not in Europe when I was born. He was in Israel. He was quite the rambunctious child," she said, laughing to herself as she remembered things Germany would never know. 

“Israel?” she asked, completely confused. Prussia didn't speak about his past unless it was to make sure she knew he was incredibly awesome and the best thing ever created. 

"Mhm. He was a Crusader. If you think he is bad now, you would have loathed him as a child," Liechtenstein said. "Strange how Prussia was never deplorable to me. I heard many horror stories about your brother coming through Europe and was terrified of him. I heard he was selfish, impulsive, blood-hungry, mean, and loud." Liechtenstein smiled brightly. "But he was none of those things with me. He was kind in an aggressive, awkward way. I think you are fortunate as his sister. He planned this all for you. I wish I had an older brother like that." 

With how Prussia treated Austria, Germany supposed Liechtenstein was right. 

"Here — let me introduce you to the others!" Liechtenstein said, suddenly excited. "The others have been eagerly awaiting to meet you!" 

Germany's cheeks got warm as she followed Liechtenstein. "The others?"

"The other female nations. They are all of good company." Liechtenstein giggled. “I should introduce you to Ukraine first! She is the eldest sibling to Russia."

"Ah, okay," Germany said, not minding Liechtenstein dragging her around. She needed an extrovert to tag along with. 

They walked across the dancefloor toward a corner where a huddle of finely dressed women of varying heights stood. A brown-haired woman spotted them first and waved her white-gloved hand with a smile. 

Liechtenstein eagerly walked forward to join what Germany assumed were her friends. 

"There you are, Liechtenstein," the brunette who waved said. Now in front of her, Germany admired her green eyes that matched her green dress. Germany noticed she wore a matching green ribbon in her hair that tied to a sizeable cute bow by the nape of her neck, making Germany wonder if she always color-coordinated her outfits. The teen was quite pretty. 

"Hello, everyone. This is Lady Germany," Liechtenstein said excitedly. Liechtenstein started from the left side of the circle to identify everyone.

"This is Czechia," Liechtenstein said, looking at a petite brown-haired woman with deep blue eyes. She wore a fashionable but simple blue dress for the event, and Germany quite liked it when her jewelry and elegant hairdo made everything tie together. A beautiful face made any outfit fine. Czechia's figure was slim and short, her arms crossed over her chest as she glanced at Germany curiously. She looked bored of the party but not her companions. 

"This is Belgium," Liechtenstein said before Czechia could interrupt her in a conversation. The woman who greeted Liechtenstein smiled. It reminded her of a cat, but her face seemed kind. All the women here were so beautiful! 

"And this is Monaco," Liechtenstein said, moving on quickly. A teen with slim glasses over blue eyes greeted her with a small nod. Her hair teetered on the brink of brown and blonde, the seasons dictating its hue Germany imagined, and with winter upon them, she was to be dark-haired. The tresses of thick, coppery auburn were elegantly woven into a loose braid, and Germany couldn't help but admire Monaco's healthy and voluminous hair. To keep her cascading locks from falling onto her face, Monaco used pins and a red bow to keep the framing layers at bay, which made her appear chic to her. Germany noticed her polished, pink fingernails matched her flattering baby-pink gown. Monaco struck her as shrewd when she didn’t smile.

"And this is Ukraine," Liechtenstein said, gesturing to a short, curvy woman by the end of the circle wearing a gorgeous baby blue dress that couldn't hide her huge breasts. Germany loved the embroidered detail on her high collar. The woman seemed timid, the attention not something she liked. 

Ukraine stepped forward with a shy smile, and Germany's eyes widened. Her hair is so short….! 

And she loved it. 

It was a lovely haircut for her thick, honey-blonde hair. It suited her innocent features so well — those big blue eyes, small nose, round flushed cheeks, and pink lips were now the center of attention as they should be. 

It was bold, boyish, liberating…yet flattering…!

Germany shifted, blushing. What a beautiful older woman. Slavic women were breathtaking! How were her features so symmetrical and pleasing to the eye? 

"And this is Belarus,” Liechtenstein said, finishing the introductions with a smile. 

Belarus glazed her eyes over, bored. Germany thought she had the face of an editorial model, her features demanding to be photographed as a femme-fatal. Germany felt plain next to her. Mesmerizing but detached, Belarus seemed so beautifully dangerous when nothing about her features was inviting. Her silver-blonde hair lay flat across her back with a black bow on her head because she didn't care much for dressing up. Her face and body made whatever she wore pleasing, regardless. She reminded Germany of a princess born from the snow with how smoothly pale she was with eyes from the Arctic. 

Belarus looked Germany up and down. "Is this Prussia's prostitute we've been hearing about —?" 

"Belarus!" Ukraine slapped her hand over Belarus' mouth as the younger sister widened her eyes in surprise. Germany now noticed that Ukraine's voice was light and feminine but heavily accented. 

Ukraine nervously laughed. "She says prostitute as a term of affection! It's normal in Belarus! Don't mind her!"

Belarus pulled down Ukraine's hand. 

"No, she has the body of a cheap whore, sister. Look at it. It’s almost like yours —"

"Belarus really likes you!" Ukraine said, nervous and frazzled as her hands waved around. "She just keeps giving out so many compliments! It's her way of saying you look exceptionally beautiful! You know as stunning as a wealthy man’s whore — it's a Slavic thing, haha!” 

That's quite sad, Germany thought in pity for the two. How poor were these nations for the culture to normalize calling women prostitutes as a compliment? How many women have sold their bodies for it to be a term of endearment to them now? How sad. If only they were civilized and educated. 

"Oh. I see,” Germany said, relieved. "Just a culture difference. Belarus, you look like a cheap street whore yourself," she said, wanting to call Belarus beautiful in the way the Slavic nation understood. 

Belgium suddenly seemed struck with a coughing fit as she turned around and hid what sounded like laughs through fake coughs. Liechtenstein glanced around, worried, as Czechia started whispering something to Belgium, her face wanting to break out into a smile so badly.

Belarus glared death at Germany at the comment, and Germany's heartbeat bolted through her chest. Self-consciousness immediately kicked in as Germany glanced around.

Was that not the right thing to say? 

She saw Belgium and Czechia trying to hold in their laughs in her peripheral vision. 

There it was. 

There it was, that funny feeling again. 

She didn't fit in. 

Are they making fun of me? she thought, feeling small. She just wanted to fit in. 

Belarus spun around and left the group as Ukraine moved around like some toy that had gotten wound up too many times, so now her feet tapped against the ground and jittered. 

Ukraine clasped her hands together as tears formed in her eyes. "Please don't kill Belarus! She's a socially awkward child, but she tries her best! She has abandonment issues!" Lifting her dress, she ran toward Belarus as if too scared to be around Germany anymore. Weepy, Ukraine's sad voice echoed behind her. "I'm sorry!" And then she left crying. 

Germany stared.

What the hell was that? 

"Don't mind them," Belgium said. "They're kind of weird." 

"That's normal?" Germany asked, confused about what had just happened. 

"Oh. Sure!" Belgium said, smiling. "So don't worry about it. And sorry about earlier. I wasn't laughing at you. That was just unexpected. Why don't we grab something to drink and sit?" she asked cheerfully to help clear up the strange atmosphere.

“Should we go find Hungary?” Germany asked since they were missing an important female nation in their squad. 

“I think she’s a little occupied,” Belgium said, gesturing with her eyes not to point. Germany turned around and spotted Hungary. She was always easy to spot now that her appearance was regal and expensive in the jewels, glamor, and long curly brown hair that always flowed down her back, healthy and thick. Austria would never let her leave without having the finest gown, the sweetest perfume, and the best accessories. 

Germany’s jaw tightened. 

Yes, Hungary was a bit occupied with Prussia. 

She was talking with her brother, the two smiling about something by the end of the other wall as if to not be spotted. Tall and strong, Prussia looked so perfect standing next to Hungary’s short figure with a face that looked up at him warm and familiar.

“Let us find a table,” Germany said, ignoring the other end of the ballroom where the two childhood “friends” caught up. It was going to be a long night.

"WHAT!" Germany slammed her hands on the table and jumped out of her chair in disbelief. "How is this possible?! I lost again!" 

She stared at the chips and cards sprawled on the table in horror as Monaco smiled. 

"I won,” Monaco said happily, drinking out of her glass of wine. She placed her perfect hand of cards down on the table. "This was quite the way to pass the time. No one ever wants to play with me."

"Yeah, for a reason," Czechia said. "You're going to send Lady Germany into bankruptcy."

Monaco laughed. "I know! Isn't it wonderful?"

Germany sat back down as she held her face in shell shock. 

This is my fourth game. How have I lost every time?! 

Monaco gathered the cards and shuffled them. She smiled at Germany as she straightened the deck on the table. "Do you want to play again?" 

"No," Germany murmured in a daze. "I do not think I can."

"And here I thought the German Empire was wealthy," Monaco said sadly. "You're not scared of a game, are you?"

"No," she said, still holding onto her face as she disassociated. Somehow she had let Monaco sweet talk her into betting a million marks. 

Prussia's going to have a stroke, she thought, barely processing what happened. 

Monaco sounded disappointed. "What a shame. Maybe next time." She got up and began to pick up around the table. "I expect my payment in eight days." 

"I think it's time I head home," Belgium said, smiling at the fun she's had for the night. She grabbed her coat hanging from the chair to shimmy it on. "The trains don't run all night." 

Czechia and Liechtenstein gathered their things too. 

"I think we will too," Czechia said. "Slovakia always becomes such a worry wort when we go out.” 

Belgium laughed. "It's like he's the wife, and you're the husband.”

Czechia buttoned her coat as she whined. "I know! Tell him to man up already!”

"A million marks," Germany kept mumbling as she stared at the table. "A million…"

Czechia patted Germany's shoulder. "We tried to warn you."

Germany snapped out of her thoughts as she turned around and saw everyone ready with their coats and purses. "Is everyone heading home?"

Monaco had packed up and cleaned the table of all evidence of their gambling. She now stood with her pink fuzzy coat. "I think it's a good idea too. Any later and the roads will get dangerous." 

Germany glanced at her small wristwatch. 

Yes, it was nearing nine-thirty now. The sky was already pitch-black, January bringing on such dark, cold winters. 

"I will walk everyone out," she said, leading them to the double doors of the exit. And as they walked, she positioned herself next to Czechia to talk to her. “May I ask you something?” 

Czechia looked up at Germany. She was quite short. “Yes?” 

“You are ruled by Austria and Hungary, are you not? Are you sure you should be leaving by yourself?” 

Czechia’s back straightened as she fidgeted. “Oh! I wasn’t leaving! I was just getting some fresh air! Didn’t want to awkwardly stand back!”

“I see,” Germany said in understanding since she would have done the same. “How come Slovakia did not come with you?”

“He did,” Czechia said, pointing to a tall man drinking alcohol. “He’s that idiot over there.”

He’s very handsome, Germany thought, liking his height and friendly smile. He seemed like an easy-going man, his blackish hair messy but stylish as he chatted and held the attention of a small group of men around him. Now that Germany noticed, every Gaia she had seen was incredibly attractive – almost abnormally so. She wondered if this was a required trait of being a nation. 

Once in front of the ballroom doors, Germany opened the heavy door handles for them. 

"We should see each other again sometime, Germany," Belgium said, smiling once at the front porch. Cheeks pinched with red, she stood without concern about the wind that blew. "Go shopping together! We can all go."

"I would love that," Germany said as her face softened. "I am grateful for everyone's attendance. It was a pleasure making your acquaintances." 

"It was fun," Liechtenstein said. "I love parties." 

"Goodbye, everyone. Be safe on your way back," Germany said when the group walked away from the door after their last goodbyes. Into the cold night, the nations left. 

It was only when the door shut and Czechia bid her goodbye to head back toward Slovakia’s side that Germany finally breathed easily. 

Their company had been appreciated, but Germany didn't feel like she had clicked with any of them, much to her sadness. She wanted to fit in. She tried to fit in desperately, but multiple inside jokes had been referenced throughout the night, and Germany had felt left out when she couldn't laugh with the rest of them. Not many things made her laugh, yet all the female nations giggled and talked easily. Not wanting to seem clueless and a buzzkill, she pretended to know what they were talking about as they reminisced about dumb, funny things that had happened throughout the years that Germany had not lived. 

Germany didn't sense malice from the female nations as she didn't think they had purposely tried to make her feel excluded. But Germany had intruded on a pre-established group and was trying to shoe-horn a connection. It wasn't going to happen…not with how quiet and awkward she was…

I need a drink. 

It was time to drown her sorrows and regrets with beer. There was no time to be ladylike now. She was as friendless as before AND in massive debt. 

And drink…and drink…and drink she did.

When will this thing end? she thought, feeling hot to the collar as she sat at her table alone. She was on her third beer mug, and everything felt achingly sober. 

Her foot bounced over her crossed legs as she observed the others with an impartial interest. Prussia wasn't anywhere to be seen, and she wondered if it was because he was wasted. 

I want to go home. 

Turning her head, her sad reflection came through the glass. It may snow tonight. Prussia told her she was born in the snow, the October of her birth unusually cold.  

"You look like the most beautiful woman of the ball," she heard a familiar man's voice say behind her. She straightened her posture instantly and looked up to see France standing before her, tall and handsome. 

"Yet you look the loneliest, " he finished, making her face immediately hot. She glanced around to see if anyone was around her, her heart racing when speaking to him alone. 

"Ah, my bad. I forget you do not speak French," he said in the universal language. Germany's face became hotter when she realized her awkward silence had been mistaken for misunderstanding him. She didn't know what to say. 

"Hello, France," she said, pushing the beer away. Drinking beer wasn't ladylike. 

"May I have this dance?" he asked, extending his hand toward her. 

She studied him, her eyes shifting as the music started. Careful not to seem too eager, she extended her hand out. He should be grateful she was considering him. 

"And what do I owe this dance for?" she asked. 

He smiled. "To getting to know my beautiful new neighbor. It is not every day a nation such as you graces the continent."

Germany's cheeks pinkened. Fine. 

She stood up. "Very well. Yes. you may." 

He led them to the center of the dancefloor, Germany concealing her excitement when feeling her smaller hand in his. 

FINALLY. 

HE TOOK HIS SWEET TIME ASKING HER FOR A DANCE.

Had he not seen how many times she had glanced at him? 

Their palms went into position as they stood in front of each other and looked into each other's eyes. France's hand was firm and warm in hers, nothing mattering but them as the music began and the ballroom shuffled in movement. Too struck with nerves, she did not speak. 

"So we meet again,” France said, his eyes twinkling amused. 

Germany’s cheeks flushed. “I suppose this is a surprise to you?”

France smiled. “That the woman who enchanted me was a fellow nation? I was here lamenting our fate.”

”Is that so? It was not a surprise to me,” Germany asked, wanting to giggle in exhilaration. In Paris they had met years ago, Germany sixteen and eager to see the city when with her brother for business. And in Paris, they always met, Germany no fool to believe their encounters for the past four years were by coincidence as France claimed. They always found each other and together they always talked and strolled around the parks before Germany had to go for her brother was quite the martinet when it came to the affairs of love. 

France moved his palm against her as he held her hand gently and clasped it tighter. They continued to dance, Germany elated to no longer be ignored. She had feared he wanted nothing to do with her knowing she was a formidable empire…his enemy…

”You knew of me as France when we first spoke?” he asked. If she were to be paranoid, she would say he was uneasy at that fact.

”Yes. They say a Gaia never stray far from his capitol,” she said easily identifying him from how her brother had described him. “Paris is your heart, is it not?”

France smiled, the apprehension hidden. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He moved to them to the music, the tempo of the orchestra so fast these days. 

“My breath was taken away when you walked down the steps. I could not believe my eyes.” He spun them at the count of the violins, the ballroom a blur when she looked into his eyes. “But perhaps that is why I have always been drawn to you. I knew you were different.”

"The famed flatterer," she said to pretend that his comment didn't fill her with joy. "You work quickly as always."

France smiled. "It's true. It is relieving to know my neighbor is not another copy of Prussia. I already like you more than him." 

"So when you do not want to deal with Prussia, you will go to me?" 

"You certainly are more sensible and pleasant to speak with." France pivoted them around to the beat of the symphony, Germany feeling breathless. "I believe our countries can get along." He thumbed her hand, his movements slow as he looked at her with nothing else diverting his attention. "I believe we can do more than get along." 

"Is that so?" she asked, unable to think when he looked at her intently. His touch sent her heart aflame, her chest as light as a bird. 

"We share a border," France said, bringing her closer to him, Germany flushing when they stood with their chests nearly touching one another, her large breasts centimeters away from him. How bold! How quick! How exciting! It was getting later in the night, after all…

"It is not impossible to imagine, no?" 

"No," she said with her heart beating through her throat. "It is not." 

As the music slowed, France leaned close to her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin. "You dance beautifully, Germany," he whispered, his voice tinged with admiration. "Thank you for letting me be your first dance."

A flush of pleasure suffused Germany's cheeks at the compliment. Keeping her chin up, she did not let the comment settle too deeply. 

"Y-You are welcome."

"I have a confession to make," he said, his voice low and playful. "I asked you to dance because I have been dying to talk to you all night without the presence of your brother shadowing you.”

Her stomach fluttered, wondering what he wanted to talk about. "Oh?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

France nodded. "Your conversation with Britain was quite entertaining."

"He offended me," Germany said without remorse. 

France laughed. "Any person who can make him upset like that is a friend of mine! Do you not hold fear?" 

"No." Germany didn't see why she should fear these nations. 

France gazed are her with an expression she couldn't place. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"I think you should," France said, glancing away from her as they moved back and forth. "Not every nation here is on your side."

"I am aware of that," Germany said shortly. "I am reminded of this often by my brother." 

"Is that so?" 

"Yes." 

"Prussia's overbearing isn't he? It saddens me that we have only seen each other through rendezvous. I have been wanting to speak with you." 

Germany became tongue-tied. She didn't know how to respond other than by saying, "I suppose." 

"Have I said something to offend you?" he asked, looking down at her. "You are suddenly short with me." 

Germany glanced away. "I do not believe this is a polite conversation." 

"Then what is, ma fraise?"  

"Strawberry?" she asked, confused to be named after the expensive fruit from North America. 

"Your fair cheeks flush like a fresh strawberry," he said, gazing at her affectionately. "Pretty and rare." 

"I see why my brother hates you," Germany said, her stomach flipping in exhilaration. "You are the worst kind of man." 

"And what's that?" 

"A shameless flirt." 

France laughed. "But you like it?" 

"Prussia does not," she murmured. 

"I wasn't asking if he did." 

Her cheeks flushed like the strawberry he said she resembled, her brows coming together. No one has asked her this. 

"I…" She looked into his eyes, his shade of blue so much different than hers. "I suppose I do not. But it is still not right given the situation…." She glanced at him hopefully. They weren't supposed to get along. They just weren't. 

"He doesn't want his little dove flying free," he said gently, touching her soft cheek, Germany so suddenly aware of how small her face was when his fingers brushed against her neck. "It would anger him very much. You're right." 

"Would it?" she asked, not knowing if they were dancing anymore. 

He took his hand away from her face. "It would. But you hold no fear, do you?" 

"No," she said in a daze. "No, I do not." 

France smiled. "I want to discuss some matters of great importance with you then. Matters that concern our two countries. I believe you will be more mature than Prussia to listen to what I have to say.” 

An excited chill went down her spine. History said they had a complicated relationship, but her predecessors caused those problems. Germany knew nothing of their past vitriols, nor did it matter, those bereavements for bitter nations like Prussia to ruminate about.

"What kind of matters?" she asked.

"I cannot say too much here, but perhaps we could meet and discuss it further?" France asked. 

"I can make time in my schedule tomorrow afternoon. Would that work for you?" 

France became disappointed. "Ah, perhaps not. You will be with your brother by then." 

"That is not a problem," she said quickly. "He is away most times for business." 

"Is that so?" he asked. 

"Are you going to stay in town?" she asked, hoping he would remain in Potsdam for a little longer. "I hope your travels went well?" 

"Only for the next day. I leave for Paris the day after tomorrow," he said. 

Hope swelled in her chest. "That is wonderful news. Where would you like to meet? And at what time?"  

"Should you make plans in such haste without Prussia?"

She frowned. "He is not my despot. I may make plans for myself."

France smiled, his eyes meeting hers, and she cleared her throat, wondering if he felt the same heat she did. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "We can meet at Berlin Park tomorrow. At noon." 

France's hand wrapped around hers with a hum. His eyes spoke enough. 

There was no need for rouge when she felt warm to the cheeks. 

"So it is confirmed?" she asked. 

"Yes. I will be there. There is something important I must tell you." 

Germany glided across the dancefloor, never having felt so weightless before. They moved more quickly than before as she picked up his rhythm and tempo, the music nothing to the running pulse of excitement in her ears. She avoided eye contact with him to not look so infatuated. 

"I must confess something to you before we go. I fear I won't be able to say this later now that I have the courage. Please listen."

"What is it?" she asked, her heart thundering. 

"I have admired you for some time now," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "Your poise, your intelligence, your beauty — they all leave me in awe. I wish to speak with you more. This dance was not enough. Those visits were not enough.”

Her heart raced faster. 

"I...I do not know what to say," she stammered despite knowing exactly what she wanted to say. It was expected, was it not? Those four years had meant just as much to him as her…! He was such a handsome man, and she such a fair woman that of course they were meant to be…! 

France smiled, his hand still resting on her waist. "You don't have to say anything. Just know that I am fond of you, and I hope that we can continue to dance together like this for many years to come. After tonight, I do not know if we will be able to see each other the same."

"Why?" she asked, unable to hide the sadness in her voice. 

"They are intimidated by you," France said, leading them in the dance quickly coming to a close. 

"How so?" She hasn't done anything threatening.

"Surely you must know?" 

Germany did not. "Know what?" 

France smiled as if she was acting coy. 

"Know what?" she demanded, not understanding his look. 

"You're going to make me say it out loud?" he asked, amused. 

"Yes. I am not fond of cryptic men." 

"They believe you to be the mastermind behind the scenes," he said into her ears again, her heart drumming when feeling his taller presence near hers — their chests so close and his scent right on her nose. "You are his eyes and ears — the brain to his brawn. Nothing goes through him without you. Your favorable opinion is worth much more." 

"That is what they fear?" she asked, unsure if this was the fear Prussia said she must strike in their hearts. 

"Very much so. You are Prussia's princess," France cooed. "His cold, cold princess." 

Her eyes lowered dangerously. "I am not a princess."

"Not officially, of course," he appeased. "But—"

"But nothing. The correct title would be Empress." 

"Is that so?" 

She jerked to the side, her movements swift and forceful. "Yes." 

"An empress then," France said as if amused by her ambitions. She did not find it funny. 

"And what does the empress want to do after?" he asked, this song much longer than the others. Around and around they went across the whole hall.

"Is this your way of asking me to see me after?"  

"Yes," he said. "I don't like to hide my intentions." 

She couldn't help but giggle. Germany liked direct men.

"Have you read the Scientific Journal of Paris lately?" she asked, relaxing. "There were some fascinating papers inside." 

"You are interested in the sciences?" France asked. 

Germany's eyes lit up. "Yes," she said. "In chemistry and physics. As well as medicine and engineering."  

"You understand such topics?" he asked, curious. "When did you learn these things?" 

"One can learn much when curious enough," she said lightly. 

"So you are not interested in military strategy?" he asked as if there was something to say about that. She observed him, their steps close to one another, when her hand remained in his palms. Chests close and faces near, there was nowhere to look beside him. Those experienced eyes — what did they see in her? 

"One can be interested in many things," she said. "The interest in one thing is not the absence of skill in another." 

"I suppose not." 

"And what of you? Do you find the sciences interesting?" she asked. 

"Not really," France said. "I find those things a bore to know, let alone study." 

Germany's heart dropped to the floor.

A bore? 

"You do…? But so many of the greatest scientists and philosophers come from your home — surely you have an interest as their nation?" 

France smiled in return, his blue eyes different than hers. "No, unfortunately not. Scientist types bore me. Their heads are always in books. You like the exciting things in life too, don't you Germany? We get along this way." 

Her hands began to calm up underneath her glove. She was glad he could not feel the skin of her palm as her heart thrummed nervously. Words were coming too slowly, his eyes so suddenly nerve-wracking. It was the same butterflies. It was fine. 

"Ah. Yes," she lied. "You are right. Why read about life when you can live it?" 

"Exactly!" France said, spinning them around. He smiled at her as the music went round and round, the cellos picking up pace in staccato. They danced amid the other couples, her eyes on him as their reflections in gold came. "This wouldn't have happened if you were stuck reading and thinking all day. I knew you were different from all the other women I've met. You're not afraid to take risks, are you?" 

She reflexively looked around for Prussia. Were dances this long? 

His hand went down to her waist, Germany making a noise of surprise when feeling his hot palm on the smallest part of her stomach. The differences in their body were apparent when his hand rested comfortably and prominent on her body. Her waist cinched in before her hips widened. Some women relied on a crinoline to widen their hips, but not Germany. The placement of France's hand made it easy for him to tell that her hips were naturally curvy and wide underneath the dress, despite that not being his intention. 

"Should your hand be there?" she asked, looking around.

"Live a little, no?"

These were the butterflies poets spoke. Her stomach twisted horribly. These eyes — they made her uncomfortable. But it was fine. Her heart raced as it should have. Her pulse quickened, and her skin felt hot. A little discomfort was expected. A little unease was necessary. It was fine. It was supposed to be like this. 

She shifted.

"They won't think you're as young as you are." 

No, Germany wasn't a naive little girl. She knew what she was doing. This was her coming-of-age party. She wasn't going to run to Prussia like a child. 

“It seems as though the dance is coming close to an end,” France said far more cognizant than she was. He leaned into her ear once more, her face red when noticing how he had to lean down to speak quietly.

“Do not keep revealing your human name to nations you do not know, ma fraise. It will only hurt you.”

He leaned away, and she missed his warmth. 

“Do you not like my human name?” she asked, confused. “I like yours. I hope you keep treating me with good faith Bonnefoy,” she teased.

France smiled sadly when hearing his surname. “No, it is a beautiful name.” His hand left her back to thumb her warm cheek, and such a break from decorum left her star-struck. What a bold man…! With such a gentle touch…! He was nothing like Prussia warned of…! 

“Take this advice from one nation to another,” he said as her face became even warmer at the advice of such an older, powerful nation as handsome as he. Germany was sure she looked like one of those illustrated princesses from the fables when her cheeks flushed with so much blood. Briar-Rose and Rapunzel — Prussia always hummed her mythos permeated within the German lands. 

The music faded to a stop before she could respond, and they returned to their neutral position. The dance ended, and he bowed gracefully as the guests clapped enthusiastically. A beautiful couple for a beautiful ball. They looked splendid, didn't they, France influential and well-known, and Germany feminine and sheltered. 

She flushed when he kissed her hand, his eyes so intimate when looking at her. Were these the bedroom eyes women spoke of? Her skin felt so hot, and her stomach was nervous but excited. 

"I must go now, my dear Germany. I will meet you later tonight,” he said, moving away from her. "Let us meet in the Marble Hall."

She nodded, taking her hand away from him and holding it carefully against her chest. Germany wanted to kick her feet in the air like a little girl. She and France had danced — been close to kissing! Well, it seemed that way when he kept talking intimately into her ear and touching her. And now he wanted to meet her in secret! How thrilling! 

Germany made her way to the punch bowl, trying to hide the smile on her face. If she drank any more alcohol, she would be a sloppy mess. Cheeks flushed, she replayed the dance lost in her little world. Ma fraise. The French accent was so attractive…

"Have fun?" 

She jolted when hearing her brother's voice materialize beside her. Germany had sworn he disappeared. 

Germany served herself punch as if unaware of what he spoke of. "I am enjoying myself, yes. And you?" 

"No. Not really," he said as if it was her fault.

"That's unfortunate," she said, not feeling much remorse for him. "Did Austria leave already? I’ve been searching for him.” 

“Why?” Prussia turned around, and Germany did the same. “He’s playing the piano. He’s been there for a while.” 

Germany lowered her glass, pleased. “I see. That’s cruel. Dancing with Hungary to a song Austria played.”

But perhaps Prussia didn’t care. He loved to upset Austria as much as he could, after all. A woman was always the medium of a man’s accomplishments. 

“I didn’t dance with her,” he said, looking at her weirdly. “Did you mistake me for Russia? He danced with her earlier.” 

Germany resisted the urge to give a suffering sigh. Did he believe her to be stupid? 

"But I am more interested in why you were dancing with France," he said as if she needed to explain herself immediately. 

"Because that is what a good hostess does," she said, drinking the punch she wished had ice cubes. Her cheeks still felt like they were flaming. Marble Hall…Marble Hall…bathed in white they would talk…

“Alright, I think we’ve had enough of this,” he said, taking the half-drunk glass of punch away from her and setting it down. “We should have a quick talk." 

"But what of the other guests?" 

"They can wait. Come," he said, gesturing her upstairs where the empty rooms were. Careful not to make a scene, she followed Prussia. Climbing the stairs, she breathed to calm down. It was fine. It wasn't as if she did anything to jeopardize them too deeply. It was rude to deny a dance. She had done what was socially appropriate. And she didn't initiate anything. Therefore, he couldn't say she had been acting in bad faith! So…so…

Her nerves frayed the quieter it became down the hall. Had Prussia's back always been that wide? She didn't remember. 

Prussia opened an empty room and let her inside first. Glancing back worried, she stepped inside the abandoned, dark room of a noble who had run off to the Polish countryside. Flickering the short lamp on by the entrance, the room illuminated in soft, hazy gold, their shadows dark and long on the wall. 

"What the actual hell was that?" he asked once they were alone.

"A dance. A short one. And my only one," she said since he was unreasonable. 

"Really? Do you think I'm blind?" 

"What is the point of this ball if I am not to enjoy it?” she asked, not understanding what Prussia wanted from her. "What am I to do? Sit alone all night?" 

"Well, no, but —"

"But what?" she asked impatiently. "But what?" 

"Just anyone but France," Prussia said, shutting the door behind him quickly and loudly. The room's dust floated through her nose as the echo of music soaked in the floorboards and thick rug. "Dance with anyone but him — it's not a hard rule to follow." 

"It was simply a dance," she said, tired of him. "You behave as if I shagged him on the dance floor." 

His face tilted toward her as if to dare to keep poking at his patience. 

"You haven't dealt with France like I have. Whatever you told him, I can guarantee you he will find a way to use it against you. He's as self-interested as they come." 

"Perhaps he is that way with you." 

"Oh my god," Prussia said, exasperated and frustrated. He seemed to be under great restraint to not curse at her or make sudden movements, Germany watching him breathe in and gesture to her calmly. She saw no reason for him to become vexed so quickly. Had he been drinking heavily?  

"No, it is true. You are a man," Germany said, tired of him dismissing her as stupid and infantile. "You provoke everyone you meet. It is not a surprise he does not find your company pleasant. But that does not mean he holds the same attitude toward me. You do not know how he behaves around women." 

"No, I know how he behaves around women. I know a little too well how he behaves around women. He is a pig." 

"Declaration of the Rights of Woman and of the Female Citizen — it was French. He is not a pig. He is progressive." 

Prussia stared at her. "France didn't write that. Olympe de Gouges did. And her head got chopped off." 

Germany flushed. "That does not mean France agreed with that." 

"Okay, listen to me and listen to me well," Prussia said, trying not to yell at her. "I know you're mad about this. Okay? I get it. You didn't want this party. But don't use France as a way to piss me off. It's not going to end well. You got the hots for Russia, right?" he asked, suddenly remembering. "Dance with him! He's got sisters. Dance with the Netherlands. He has a little sister too. You like your men tall don't you? And blond?" He gestured to the door. "Plenty of sausages to choose from down there." 

"I do not wish to," she said, disgusted when he said sausage. "Why must you be against this? He is not a bad nation." 

"And how do you know that?" Prussia asked, giving her a look. "No, how? Tell me."

Germany flushed with anger, these dreaded years of inexperience crawling through her skin. She did not know. 

"A woman's intuition." 

"More like puberty," Prussia muttered. 

Her hand tightened around her dress as her anger boiled even more. Why was it that women's hormones were to blame for everything? He was not always correct! 

"I am leaving." She tried to storm her way past him, but he put his arm out to block her, his chest right in front of her to stop her exit. 

"Let me pass," she said tightly. 

"Not until you say you're not going to dance with him again. Or talk to him," he said seriously. 

"No," she said, equally as serious. "I can speak to whoever I desire." 

"Germany," he warned. 

"What?" 

"Don't test me," he said, giving her a warning look. She would have faltered if the promise of tomorrow was less exciting. Some things were worth rebelling for. This was her coming-of-age party as her own woman, yes? Then it was time to make executive decisions. 

"No. I refuse to dance with anyone else." 

Prussia furrowed his brows. "Why not?"

"Because." It wouldn't matter even if she explained it to him.

"Because why not?" 

"Because! I wish not to. I enjoyed the dance I had. Is it a felony to have fun now?" 

"Did you not remember what I told you?" 

"I did," she said, crossing her arms. "But you are not a reliable source of judgment. Is it not the point of this party to interact with other nations? Well, I am interacting with them."

"Yes, but not like that."

Anger clogged her throat. "Then like how?" 

He didn't respond right away as he was getting irritated fast. They didn't speak well with each other these days. 

"No, how, Prussia? Explain —"

"He's too old for you — Germany understand this!" he said, louder. "I'm trying to protect you — he's not the man you think he is. Do you not remember what I said to you about men that go after young women? What do you think his intentions are with you?!" 

She couldn't answer right away. She didn't know…

"I'll tell you — it's no good," Prussia said. "That trip to Paris we were going to on has been canceled. You can't seem to control yourself." 

"That is completely unfair — I barely get to see any of the other nations and now you ban me from interacting with my neighbor?!" she said, about to scream. "How practical is that? How weak is that?" 

"It's not weak. It’s sane." 

"Move out of my way," she said, knowing this would go nowhere with him. "I know what I am doing so move—"

"No — no, you don't!" His anger was starting to startle her, Germany backing up. 

"You're too immature. I keep telling you this — you're not even a fifty yet! Fifty! Do you know how old France is?" 

He answered for her. "Over fifteen hundred. He can't beat us in war anymore. So he has set his targets on you instead because you are easy prey." He held onto her shoulder, Germany's eyes wide. Her heart raced, Prussia's figure scaring her. She wanted him to stop yelling at her. He never yelled at her. 

He looked her straight in the eyes, his magenta-red irises boring into her. He would not relent in his gaze until she understood. 

"This isn't about me. This is about you. You can't control your emotions around him, and he will exploit that. Keep entertaining him and see how quickly he'll turn his back on you once he's gotten what he wanted. Go ahead — share all of our secrets, all of our plans, and put everything we've worked toward in danger for a guy who said one nice thing to you." 

Germany's jaw clenched as her mouth became tight. Why was he being so mean to her? Why did her body changing mean men acted this way around her now? Her mind has stayed the same. Her heart hasn't changed.  

"It will only be you that gets hurt in the end," Prussia said, not allowing her to speak. "Kiss him to your heart's desire and see where it leads you since you are so mature now." He backed away. "Don't come crying to me when you get played." 

"No, this is about you," she said, having wished to say this all her life. "You loathe the idea of my happiness involving someone other than you. You do not want me with anyone because you are miserable that you are not with the person you have been pining for all your life — "

"What are you even talking about — ?"

"Hungary!" Germany screamed. "You cannot have her, so now you want me to be as lachrymose and bitter as you in the guise of protection! But I see through it, and I refuse! I am not you! I will not be a coward to my feelings and will not take the opportunity that has presented itself for granted. It is not my fault her heart chose Austria and wed him instead."

"This has nothing to do with her!" Prussia said, never having looked more irritated in his life. "I don't love her —  where are you getting this idea from?" 

"Stop lying to yourself," Germany said, disgusted to see so much denial. “Everyone knows it but you.” 

"I am not lying to myself. Nations don't love each other romantically. Unless it's family, everything is transactional or for fun. Even her marriage to Austria — do you think it was for true love? " he asked as if the idea was stupid and ridiculous. "Did you not study anything?"

"You say that because you are afraid. You are afraid of the emotions you cannot comprehend, so you scoff at them — demean them. They are not ridiculous. They are not stupid!" Germany glared. "You think I am unaware of your flirtations with her? Of how often you visit Austria's home? They cannot all be for business matters. I am sick of seeing you two dance around each other in the veil of friendship!” 

"I don't think I've ever wanted to smack you so much before," Prussia said, strained, his hand not rising despite what he said. 

Germany backed away from him. He was her brother. But he would always be a man first. 

"Why? Because I tell you the uncomfortable truth? That you are in love with a married woman? That you are having an affair?” 

“An affair? You think I am having an affair!” 

Prussia was a conservative nation by nature, and such an accusation was deeply slanderous to his character and name. Originally a Catholic order, he considered marriage a sacred sacrament between men and women. Germany had always thought he would respect those vows. 

But he was a man with a power. And that said more about him than it did her, didn’t it? 

“It is not that I think. I know! And —  And do not think I will not tell Austria!” she said, getting scared when he was getting quieter and quieter but not any less infuriated. She understood a loud, screaming man wanting to murder her. Germany did not understand a quiet man who wanted to murder her. 

Prussia's silence was deadly. His eyes were often described as the eyes of a predator when he stood still and analyzed someone he deemed as prey. Calculated and cold, he watched her. He didn't strike her as he said he wished to, but the longer the seconds stretched in silence, the more wary she became.

"What?" 

"Run to France since you know so much now," Prussia said. "Go downstairs, fall into his arms, and declare your union to the world. Run away with him tonight. Pack your bags, say your goodbyes, and let us know when the wedding is. I will not come after you. You trust this man with your life. If that is what you want, then who am I to stifle you. You have found your true love. There's no more need for you to stay in Berlin if Paris is all you want." 

Her brows came together as thick tears threatened to come out. Was he disowning her? Were they no longer family? 

"Fine! Maybe I will!" she yelled when he slammed the door on his way out. Alone, Germany stood fuming and shaken to the core. She saw herself in the mirror's reflection and tried to soften her features. This pitiful, scared expression was horrid on her. 

"Agh!" She paced around, hugging her elbows, unsure what to do now. Her stomach felt strange and turbinate, these lungs tight as the frigid air met her nose. 

Click, click, click, click. 

Soft came the clicking of her heels as she went in circles and held herself in the sudden chill she had. Breathing in, she calmed her heart to clear her mind of these racing thoughts.

The night was still young. She would not let her stupid older brother ruin this for her.

Germany was going to have a good time.

Yes.

She was going to drink and dance and do what she pleased! What was she doing here alone in the dark, shaking like a leaf as the German Empire? Prussia was just a German state (a mighty military state that threatened the balance of power in Europe right now ) but nothing more than a state! He did not control her! She was her own woman! That was what tonight signified! 

"He is stupid," she whispered, taking her arms away. 

Sniffing, she straightened her back and marched toward the door. Opening it wide, she did not spot Prussia waiting in the hall. Glad to see him gone, she descended to the bottom floor. Germany wormed through the stuffy crowd to slip through the entrance doors and head toward Sansscouci Park.

Why must there be so many stairs? she thought, annoyed since her heels made it difficult to rush down a long, winding six flights of tiny steps. Germany wished for it to be summer for the fountain to splash in grandeur, the golden path set outside warm but ominous when outside alone in the pitch darkness of night. Strolling underneath an ivory-covered arbor, she looked up at the stars. All she wanted to see was the moon with someone. 

I wish I had a telescope, she thought, never having seen so many stars so clear and bright. She searched for a constellation but found none. 

Her hand glided along the cool surface of yet another marble statue, its smooth contours meeting her fingertips with a faint whisper of history. As she navigated the familiar grounds, her gaze was drawn to a sight that held a special place in her heart—the white rotunda. This was where she had spent countless hours immersed in tea parties during her childhood days with Prussia.

He had been so much kinder to her back then...it was only once she hit the age of eleven, when her hints of breasts began developing, that he started to distance himself from her, her body growing but never her mind.

The memories flooded back, evoking a bittersweet nostalgia within her. Summer after summer, they had returned to the garden. It was a cherished tradition for Prussia, and the approaching month of May had always carried a thrill for both of them, signaling the imminent reunion with the Hohenzollern family who had warmly embraced her due to her impeccable manners and cute face.

The sprawling gardens, now a tapestry of faded remembrances, had once been a realm of boundless exploration. In her mind's eye, she could vividly recall the thrill of hiding from Prussia through the paths because she knew he would always find her.  

She continued her reverie, her footsteps carrying her deeper into the hallowed garden. Though time had reshaped the landscape, and the vibrant hues had mellowed into faded shades, the essence of her cherished memories remained untouched. 

The sounds of nature soothed her, the wind light and the air freezing for others but not her. This was familiar. Germany was not a place of warmth. Getting away from it all was what she needed to go back in there and…

Her shoulders sagged as she sat on a perfectly trimmed hedge. She didn't want to go back inside. 

Can I stay out here for the rest of the night? 

Germany craned her head toward the horse stalls far away.

Or better yet, run away? Prussia can walk home.

Her breath came out white as she exhaled, Germany pulling up the sleeve of her gloves to protect herself from the wind. 

I should head inside…

Her feet made no movements to begin trudging back. 

"Shh." 

Germany heard France's voice and quickly turned toward the sound behind her. 

What is he doing out in the garden? 

She stealthily headed toward his voice. Did he need a break from the party too? 

Curiosity got the best of her as she went behind a trimmed bush. Her brows furrowed when tiny giggles came from the other side of the wall of bushes. Was there a drunken group in the garden thinking the same thing as her? 

Parting the bush in half to see through it, she spotted France's vague, shadowy shape from the light spilling over from the main center of the garden. She only recognized him from his height and silhouette.

What is he doing out here —?

Her eyes widened to saucers. 

France wasn't alone. 

Is that woman…topless? Germany thought in horror as she saw the faintest outline of a medium-sized breast exposed in cold air. Removed from undergarment layers, Germany saw the woman's hair down — fully down — with no pins, curls, or hat as her legs spread wide and stretched her skirt. No respectable woman sat like that….!  

Germany peered closer to see what was happening, her eyes deceiving her. She drank a lot of alcohol earlier. Surely they weren't fornicating outside in the cold on an unsanitary fountain ledge on the night of her party. Surely. Surely.

"Who will even be here in the cold? You worry too much," a feminine voice said, giggly and happy. "Let's continue." 

"No," Germany murmured. "No, this can't be…" 

Prussia was right? 

Her heart raced. 

No. 

Prussia was wrong. He couldn't be right because then that would mean she was wrong about everything, and she was not wrong. Germany received perfect scores. Her tutors said they had never seen a woman as intelligent as her — she had been placed into the University of Halle but been rejected because of her sex…! 

She was not stupid. 

She was not dumb. 

And Prussia wasn't right. Because…Because then…

Her throat tightened. Her eyes could not tear away from the woman giggling in France's arms, the two lost in each other when shrouded in the darkness of the cold night. The festivities were inside, where it was lit and warm, the freezing garden nowhere to be. But more clothes were becoming removed as they softly spoke to each other in French. 

"Mademoiselle Ellington. It sounds nice, doesn't it?" she asked, her voice light as if in a joke. 

When Germany heard a soft moan seconds later from France's hand groping the smooth, exposed breast, she had enough. Germany had to leave. She couldn't stand this a second longer! It was a vile, pornographic sight!   

Of course, Prussia was right, you dumb girl. 

Lifting her dress, she turned around and ran to hide as far as possible from the two, her back roughly meeting a tree on the edge of the estate as breath came too short and fast. It was the last of the trimmed trees of the garden before it was a pure field that led to the forest filled with wild animals. Breathing hard, she hid behind the tree, away from the palace and fountain lights. 

Why didn't you listen to him? Why must you be so argumentative and naive? 

Tears swelled in her eyes as she kept her face down and her breathing quiet. Restraint. Restraint. Restraint. A woman cried in the washroom or her room but never in front of others. It was impolite. No one wanted to console an emotional, irrational, stupid woman who cried tears due to her volition. 

How awful. 

How predictable. 

Her hands shook. 

In the middle of the garden? 

France was ruining the memory. He was ruining it. 

I knew I shouldn't have said I liked science. Stupid, stupid, stupid! she beat herself up, cursing at her last self for saying something so lame and boring. France wasn't into mousy nerds. He was into…

Loose women? she thought equally as wounded. She hugged herself, her tears about to freeze down her face as a harsh wind passed. I am not that either. Germany rubbed her nose, the sound of winter silent. It was the sound of death, she has been told, Hell quiet and Heaven loud.  

Who was that woman? 

Her breath became even colder, Germany cupping her mouth to salvage warmth. It didn't matter who that woman was. It wasn't her. 

I should go inside. 

Taking off her gloves, she wiped the sides of her eyes until they rubbed red and raw, the tears unable to stop. Sniffing tremulous, she slipped her gloves once no more fresh tears strayed from her waterline. One moment of weakness. It was all that was allowed. 

Tilting her chin up, she returned to the palace through quiet steps and repressed sobs. Perhaps she will dance with Russia! Who needed one man anyway?! France should have felt blessed for her to even bat an eye at him! How dare he take her interest for granted! 

Marching to the front doors, she opened them with a gust and searched for the nearest nation she could. 

Fantastic. 

There were no male nations in her immediate vicinity. Germany glared at anyone that looked at her strangely at the door, the offenders awkwardly moving when she refused to break her hawk-like eye contact with them. Walking stiffly, she returned up the stairs as no one dared to approach her. Someone was going to dance with her. And she would find a handsome, tall nation to do it with. 

Where is he?! Did he leave with his sisters? Germany thought, trying to spot Russia from above. I want to dance! 

Germany was about to scream when she found no one on the dance floor below that now looked like black ink dots huddled in groups all across. 

Alone. Alone. Alone. She was alone and crazy on her big night. 

"How unpleasant," she said, irritated when tears wanted to come out again. Why was she crying? She would not give Prussia satisfaction. She wasn't a foolish woman. France could do whatever he liked. Just as she could do whatever she liked!  

"Was your wife unable to make it?" she heard Prussia faintly from below. Crouching to hide behind the shadows of the stair railings that connected to a corner, she peered down at Prussia, speaking to a fat English noble by the first step. Right below the chandelier, the two men talked, unaware of Germany spying on them, her brother's accented voice foreign to her when she was used to him speaking German.

"She went out for some fresh air," the man said, drinking out of his cup ugly and fast. "Congratulations on the marriage." 

"Germany isn't my wife," Prussia said, glancing toward the door. 

The man raised a brow. "No?" 

"No. She's my sister," Prussia said as if he had to explain this all night. 

The man smiled wide. "Well, if she's not your bride then certainly she would be perfect for my son!"

"Your son?" 

"Oh yes!" Germany thought the man should hit the gym instead of smiling like an idiot, his gut hanging over his belt like a sad sagging piece of dough covered by a white dress shirt. "He's a General now. He graduated from Oxford University with a degree in law — a fine, strapping man." 

Germany wiped at her eyes to listen. 

"She's not looking for a husband right now," Prussia said, still in an awful mood. Germany was surprised anyone was dumb enough to approach him when holding such a murderous gaze on the dancefloor. 

"Oh, don't be so possessive!" the Englishman said as if they were in on some big joke, Prussia not smiling. "Her future is riddled with uncertainty. Think of the solace it would give her to have a husband. The solace it would give you to know she's in the hands of a good man." 

"She's a nation. We do not marry humans. Ever." 

Especially to an Englishman, his face said silently. 

Germany twiddled with the fabric of her dress as her chest lightened. Men were foul creatures. But at least Prussia wouldn't change. Why had she doubted him? Even when deeply upset with her, he protected her.  

"Do you want her to live the rest of her life poor and with no title?" the noble asked, taking a drink, the crescendo of the party so loud now. It was getting to the point where most men were drunk and the women tired. 

"She already has one. She is Germany. She does not need your marriage proposal."

"And she owns nothing. She may live in a palace but is as poor as a peasant. I ask you this for her sake. If you truly care about her, then you would want her to live a comfortable life — at the very least, a secure one." 

Germany frowned. It was true that as a woman, nothing was in her name, but it did not make her a peasant. She was Prussia's younger sister. 

"Germany cannot become pregnant, so what is your intention with her if not to have heirs? Is your son satisfied with a marriage with no children? Because if so, then perhaps what he seeks is not a wife but a prostitute. You have plenty of those on the streets of London, don’t you.”

Germany winced. She didn't realize how irascible she had made him. 

"She cannot become pregnant?" the middle-aged man asked. 

"No." 

"But she is going through puberty. She experiences menstruation!"

Germany clutched onto the edge of the wall in fury. How inappropriate! That was not a polite conversation at all! Was this how men spoke to each other without the presence of women? 

"She cannot become pregnant," Prussia said, irritated. "No nation has ever become pregnant. Hungary. Ukraine. Belarus. Belgium. None of them have ever carried a child. So the answer is no." 

"She needs financial security. You truly don't plan to get her involved in the military of all things," the English noble said, chuckling.

"That was what she was created to do, so yes."

"Prussia!" the Englishman cried, shocked. "She has no place on the battlefield! She's a woman!" 

"And?" 

The Englishman spluttered. He laughed forced, his hand tightening around his drink. "Women do not belong in the military. Don't be absurd. Her biology cannot withstand the mental and physical pressure." 

"Interesting how you know so much about biology, Mr. Ellington. I thought you were a mediocre businessman.” 

Ellington…? 

Germany felt a small smile come over. 

She leaned forward and saw the fat Englishman get red like a cherry, his forehead almost sunburned. 

“Mediocre—!?”

“Why else would you come and try to sway me with such a pathetic proposition? You’re not doing anything in your favor.”

"If you do not stop this now, she will live the rest of her days as a dusty, bitter spinster,” Mr. Ellington hissed as if Prussia was scared by words. “That I guarantee. My son can save her reputation — your reputation. She will need it.” 

"I would rather her be a spinster than a widow," Prussia said coolly. "Your son will die, and she will bear the grief and weight of his obligations and death. There is nothing she gains by temporarily appeasing you and your desire to marry off your ill-tempered son."

"Well, no one wants that wench of a sister anyway!" He turned around, thoroughly insulted. 

"Wench?" Prussia asked as he put his drink down and dared him to repeat what he had just said. 

"You thought I didn't see that?" he asked, tugging at his coat with a satisfied tug at the lapels of his blazers. "It only took her seconds to throw herself into the arms of a man — the arms of a Frenchman. You are not in a position to negotiate." 

That's it. 

Germany got up and descended the stairs as she walked toward Mr. Ellington like a shark drawn to blood. Before her brother could say anything, she butted herself into the conversation. 

"Hello, Mr. Ellington," she said, curtseying. "I do not believe we have met."

Prussia turned his head surprised not to have heard her. She stood pretty and posed, the topic of conversation in front of them. 

Mr. Ellington turned to her, surprised to see her so suddenly, his smile plastering fake now that a woman was in between a conversation between men. 

"Hello, Lady Germany. What a pleasure to meet the woman of the night. You look as beautiful up close," he said, his flattery not triggering a forced, polite smile. 

"I heard you two discussing matters of marriage. I believe we can converse about this somewhere private." 

"You are open to the idea?" Mr. Ellington asked, rightfully suspicious. 

"Why, of course. He is wealthy. He is interested. There is not much else to know." 

Mr. Ellington's face agreed. As a woman, there wasn't much else she needed to know. 

"I like her," Mr. Ellington said. "She gets to the point."    

"Thank you," she said, trying not to feel disgusted at how his eyes roamed across her body. He didn't meet her eyes much. 

"I must ask, and this is a dire question, that I must ask before negotiations can take place," she said seriously.

"What?"  

"Is your son tall?" 

Prussia looked like he wanted to rub his temples with her, his face immediately going are you fucking kidding me?

Mr. Ellington, however, found it so utterly amusing when he laughed heartily. Of course, he would find it funny. She was a comedian.   

"Yes, he is tall. He is my same height," Mr. Ellington said. 

"That is quite a height." 

The man was around 6'1. He was fat and butter-faced but tall. 

"Come," she said, gesturing the two toward the front door. "Let us work out the details in private outside." 

"But it is cold," the fat man said. "Let us just go into a room." 

"There are too many eyes and ears, Mr. Ellington. It would serve us both well to be outside. Have fresh air." 

"Wait a minute," Prussia said. "Are you agreeing to get married? To a man you've never met?"

Germany turned her head back to consider it. "Well, I suppose I should not keep the Netherlands waiting either. He was quite fond of me…" She looked out into the crowd trying to find the tall nation with the scarf. "Yes, maybe it is better that I go with someone I have met and with more prestige and wealth —"

"No, we can discuss things now," Mr. Ellington said, rushed. He tugged at his coat to not make it seem as though her words brought anxiety to him. 

"Outside?" she asked. 

"Yes. Outside." 

"Follow me, then," she said, already heading toward the doors. 

"No, no, no, no," Prussia said, stopping their short walk. "This is ridiculous. She is not getting married — that is not negotiable. There is nothing to discuss."  

"But she desires it," Mr. Ellington said as if he had been right all along about her desires in life. "She wants a husband and family. She is of the perfect age. You cannot deny her what she wants."  

"No. He can't," Germany agreed.  

Yes. He can. Easily. 

But would it benefit socially? No. And since those precious opinions mattered, he would have to follow what she wanted. 

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Fine," Prussia said, his silence disturbing her once again. She could not tell what he thought with that impassive face at her. "Lead us outside." 

"Gladly," Germany said. 

The two men stared at the shape of her back as she led them to the front door. She opened the heavy door despite social convention dictating that Mr. Ellington should have. With no desire to be corrected, the two men followed her into the garden. 

"We are heading to a rather secluded place," Mr. Ellington mentioned when they walked deep into the garden with barely any lights. 

"It ensures the most privacy," she said, the grass crunching underneath her heel. 

She abruptly stopped. This had been the spot. 

Prussia stood outside on guard of anything suspicious, a soldier's mind never at ease as he looked around. "Why here?" 

"I like it here." Germany turned to Mr. Ellington. "Now about your son. How old is he?" 

"Thirty-five." 

He was only fifteen years older than her. Germany didn't see a problem with that. She would rather die than marry. 

But Prussia didn't know that. 

"Thirty-five?" Prussia asked, frowning. 

"Well, one does not become esteemed without experience," Mr. Ellington said, defensive to Prussia's concerned voice. "He's as healthy as an Ox." 

"Yes. It is lovely when you describe your son like a farm animal," she said. "He sounds appealing." 

Mr. Ellington smiled. "Doesn't he?" 

Germany glanced at him. She almost let a genuine smile slip out. Perhaps the Brits were not so terrible after all, their dry comedy shared. 

Germany turned her head around, appearing confused.

"What's wrong?" Prussia asked when she moved as if searching for something. 

"Do you hear that sound, Mr. Ellington?" Germany asked innocently.

"Hear what?" he asked. 

"Right there. Right there," a small, flushed voice moaned behind the bush. "Please." 

"It sounds like a woman," Mr. Ellington said, now hearing what she did. 

Germany turned to him. "I believe that is the sound of your wife moaning like a whore." 

"What?!" Mr. Ellington spluttered at such an insult. "You dare imply that's my wife?!"

"Yes, I believe that's her, a wench, in the arms of a Frenchman," she said, glancing to the side. "I do not believe I trust a son raised by a dirty woman like that." 

"Why — how dare you!" he said, seething. 

"Unless you would like to see for yourself?" she asked, parting the bushes for him to see. Mr. Ellington stuffed his face between the bush to see.

"MARIANNE! Just WHAT are you doing?!" Mr. Ellington bellowed, removing himself from the bush to attend to the other side's sudden shrieks of panic and apologetics. 

Germany smiled, her eyes finally satisfied. 

Success. 

Germany felt much better. 

She felt great. 

Revenge tasted wonderful. Seeing France caught in such a precarious situation was so amusing to see. Germany wished she had popcorn as they did in the Nickelodeons. No more was he the untouchable, suave nation, was he? No more was he the all-knowing older nation but instead, a sad, pathetic cheater who fooled around with women regardless of marital status. If he had studied a bit more, he might have known that having an affair was a stupid idea. 

Okay, I have had enough, she thought, getting bored of the theatrics. There was crying and screaming, and she tsked when she saw France run away. He was stupid and cowardly. What a horrible combination. 

"Wait, hold on Mr. Ellington," Prussia said before he stormed off with his wife crying by his side. Germany's stomach twisted as her breathing became faster. What was there to speak with him about? The conversation was over. 

"What?" he snapped. 

"Forgive my sister —" Prussia said, making Germany gape. She was in the wrong?! She just exposed those horrible cheaters! What was there to defend?

"Does she find this amusing?!" Mr. Ellington asked as his wife hid her face and wept, France nowhere to be seen. "You two set this up! She is laughing at this!"

"No, I assure you we didn't —"

"They did!" Mrs. Ellington cried. "It was horrible! She threatened me!" 

"I did not!" Germany said, shocked. "I did no such thing!"

"We did not," Prussia agreed, a bit more composed than her. He stood before her to ensure she did not get too close to the upset couple. 

"Do you two take me as a fool?" Mr. Ellington hissed. "You and the Frenchman must have coordinated this and gotten my poor Marriane involved. Isn't that right?"

His wife sniveled pathetically. "Yes. They all threatened to hurt me violently with physical violence." 

Germany's fist clenched. What slander! 

"Physical violence?!" Mr. Ellington cried. 

"We did not," Germany snapped. "I do not even know you are, woman. Do not flatter yourself."

"Germany, be quiet," Prussia said with that terrible angered look of her childhood. It made her body swim with guilt, her presence so small now as she wilted underneath his disappointed, disapproving gaze. He never looked at her like that…she was his cute West…she couldn't do wrong in his eyes…

"Your son is set to take over the Ellington company, isn't he?" Prussia asked, turning his head toward the fat man still riled up. 

Germany's hands fell to his side. Surely he wasn't…

"Those dumb opinions are what keep us dead or alive." 

"Yes. He is." The Englishman brushed back his hair as he stood straighter. "The Ellington company has business in every colony of Her Majesty’s empire — what of it?" 

"I'm sure we can come up with a conclusion that is mutually beneficial to put this beside us," Prussia said diplomatically. 

Mr. Ellington huffed. "Yes. I'm sure we can —"

"Is she getting punished?" his wife demanded. "For what she did?" 

"Yes," Mr. Ellington said, watching Prussia expectantly. "What will you do about putting that sister of yours in place? She is the real problem." 

Prussia glanced at her, his mind thinking fast. Most moves on their chess board now did not end well. 

"Ah, well —"

"Put her in a convent," Mrs. Ellington said snootily. "Maybe she'll learn some manners there." 

Germany sneered. "Oh, that is rich coming from you —" 

"Germany, I said be quiet," Prussia snapped again. 

Her mouth snapped shut. That's right. She just made everything worse. Her stupid mouth only made everything worse. 

Germany didn't need to hear the rest of this. Nothing she said or did mattered. This life was predestined for her. Prussia decided everything. He created her. He led her. He fed her. Nothing she did mattered no matter how much he preached of desiring independence from her. He never did. He never did, did he? Lifting her dress, she stormed away as her chest tightened as if dying from a stroke. 

Never trust a man's words. 

Their actions will always reveal the truth. 

And the truth was Prussia liked control.

"Germany, come back here!" Prussia said, seeing her about to run away again. 

Like hell, she would! 

She ran back into the palace as fast as she could barricade herself in a room far away from them. A blast of warm, fragrant air hit her cheeks once entering the ballroom again, her clothes tight and hot once under the burning candles. Her pulse running through her ears drowned the symphony playing a slow, sweet song. The violins and piano became daunting as the notes struck faster and faster with every breath. The walls caved in. Germany placed a hand over her heart as she rushed to the highest floor away from Prussia and Mr. Ellington. 

Life became blurry as she went to the top stair balcony where no one dared to venture. She slammed the first door she found with a lock and rushed toward the glass panes that led to the patio, the small golden handle rattling in her hand. Once opening the patio door wide, she stood outside in the cold when the suppressed tears fell harder than ever before.  

She hadn't done anything wrong! She hadn't! Mr. Ellington's wife was a cheater, and France was a slut of a man! He was their enemy, so why did it matter? She had only exposed their true natures. Just as she had exposed Prussia's true nature — he sympathized with those cheaters drunk on sex and power. He was one of them. He was one of them. 

Germany was never them. 

Prussia was for Gaias. 

Germany was for humans. 

Shivering, she looked up to the sky and found the same beautiful canvas of stars, the clouds thin and weightless to the black atmosphere above. 

Germany hugged herself as she slowly made it to the balcony edge. It was too dark to see the garden below, so what came instead was the apprehension of looking down to a dark abyss promising death if she fell over. 

She sniffed, not afraid of the height. The wind whistled through the trees, the song of despair rustling through branches and cold flowers. 

I knew this was all fake, she thought, wondering if enough sadness could kill a person, tears not enough to drown her. I should have known he would never see me as his equal. I should have known…

Prussia was right. 

Her eyes welled with more tears. 

Love makes you weak. 

Love of family, love of men — it all made her weak. To care about others' opinions — what use did it have for this sensitive heart? Gone was the might of a woman unscathed from the dreaded curse of emotions. In sheer moments, all her confidence was crushed. 

What she had seen couldn't have been a mere coincidence. 

These nations were sick, sick twisted men toying with her heart because they could not compete with her economy or military. 

Prussia had been right. 

Prussia had been right. 

She was too naive. 

Nothing was ever a coincidence, nor was anything ever done from the goodness of one's heart. 

Germany looked up at the night sky, her breathing labored from running. She clutched onto her white sleeves as the wind nipped at the tears running down her face. Her breath in white cast around her like a lingering ghost, this body nothing but to be seen.

I want to run away. 

I want to escape this body. 

Her eyes watered, wishing to be as lonely and unbound as the stars millions of miles away. If already alone and to be burned here on Earth, she wished for admiration and isolation from up above. Bowing her head, she clasped her hands together, trembling. 

Please, Lord, make me the strongest nation the world has ever seen to never need a man again. Make me brave, make me kind, make me free. Take me away. Her hands became hot as she clasped them together, shaking. Take me away. Put me in the military. Give me freedom. Let these legs run wherever they seek. Let this mouth speak whenever it desires. Please. Tears ran faster down her face as her breath came choppy and labored.    

Take me away. 

Nothing changed when her eyes opened. Her jaw tightened as another wind passed, her heart aching within her chest as she gave a breathless chuckle. Of course, nothing changed. The full moon came out, and Germany only now noticed the beautiful white glow hidden behind a tree. Humanity would never reach space, only merely observe it, but she wanted to touch the sky. More tears fell as she saw everything she could never do.

"Please," she whispered.    

"Are you okay, miss?"  

She turned around, horrified at the sound of a concerned voice behind her. There had been a lock on the door for a reason! 

A handsome, tan man stood by the balcony doors, surprised to see her in the extreme cold with no coat — the night had dropped to freezing temperatures at this point. The weather didn't affect her as much as she should have been, given these lands were her blood and breath. Blinking fast, she rid herself of fresh tears, the black paint on her eyelashes staining her fair cheeks now. Not wanting to smudge her white gloves by wiping the makeup on her eyes, she kept her back to him so he would not see her countenance. 

"Yes, I am fine," she said shakily. Her stomach twisted when she heard his footsteps approaching her, a wind passing through her eardrums. "Please leave me be." 

"You don't look fine. I heard you slam the door," he said, Germany not glancing at him in fear. He held an accent, although she did not know from where. His German didn't sound native, but it was practiced and correct. Rumors would spread if word got out of her being emotional and difficult and with a man alone without a chaperone. Her breath hitched when he got close enough to see her profile. 

"You were crying," he said, his gaze making her feel hot with shame. How typical for a woman to break down and succumb to emotions of anxiety. 

"And what concern is it to you," she said, turning around again so he couldn't see her face. She sniffed, taking off her dumb gloves to wipe her eyes furiously. "Leave me already. Do you not know when to give a lady privacy?" 

"Now, I can't do that. You're upset," he said as if genuinely concerned for her well-being. 

"As long as you are feared, you will win. And we, Germany, are here to win." 

Her brother's words struck her as if shot with lightning, hot and liquid in her spine when shame came thundering through her heart. How weak and useless was she easily led by her emotions and impulses.

I can't lose. 

I can't lose. 

Her brows furrowed together, tears brimming on her waterline.

I'm losing. 

I'm horribly losing. 

It was time to leave. 

It was time to leave. 

She had to leave. 

She had to leave. 

Or else.

Or else. 

Or else —

Or else, or else, orelse, orelse, orelse —

She didn't know. 

She didn't know. But he was staring at her — he was staring at her — and asking questions, and he saw her face, so he surely must know who she was now because it was easy to recognize her with these dumb flowers in her hair and stupid white dress and gloves and — 

Badump.

Her breath hitched as she placed a hand over her heart in the sudden squeezing of her lungs. The choker necklace on her neck became a collar, everything tight on her body as she looked around frantically and saw the shadows of her periphery inching closer and closer. The walls caved in as if painted by an artist who kept slanting the perspective, everything coming full center toward her to crush and suffocate her. A sudden chill of dread wracked her, death gripping her throat as her body started trembling. 

"I can't breathe," she said, terrified. Terror seized her as she gasped for air. Thick cotton clogged her throat, her heart about to burst and bleed out of her chest. Her body shook uncontrollably, as though a fever had taken hold — sinking, sinking, sinking, the floors were sinking beneath her feet, the walls inches away from becoming her coffin. At the same time, she clamped her jaw shut, trying to regulate her breathing as if asphyxiated. With one hand pressed tightly against her chest, she feared her heart might give out, and she'd collapse, lifeless on the ground.

"I can't breathe," she said, shaking at the idea she was about to die right then and there. 

His hand was still on hers, his touch warm and new. "You're talking. You're breathing right now. You wouldn't be able to talk if you couldn't breathe." 

"I just can't. I. I." 

He was right. Breath came to her, but it immediately drowned in her throat, in her dry tongue stuffed with cotton. She couldn't calm down. She couldn't calm down. What was going on? Why was everything so fuzzy and terrible? 

"We're going to go through something to calm you down, okay? We're going to point out five things we see first. I see the banister," he said, pointing to it. She glanced at what he was talking about. She saw the banister too. "I see the stars." She did too. "I see the fountain. I see the flowers in your hair. I see the trees. Now what do you see?" 

"I see your tie," she said, labored, glancing at his chest to where his black tie hung from his white shirt. "I-I see your watch." It was black leather, silver with polish, and a thick round face. Luxurious and…and…

She trembled. "I see the windows." Yes, they were clean. Streak-free. "I see the sky." Black, ever so consuming. The sky was going to swallow her. She was going to die in front of a stranger.

"What else do you see?" he probed again. 

"I see. I see the wall," she said, her hands getting clammier. 

"Good. Now what are four things you can touch? I can touch the chair. It's real wood. It's smooth." He touched the chair as Germany mirrored him too. "I can touch the cracks of the wall. It's cold. I can touch the limestone. It's freezing, isn't it?"

The stone was freezing to the touch as he said, Germany shivering as her fingers glided against the grainy texture. She reached toward her side. "I can touch my dress." She did so, the fabric equally cold and smooth underneath her fingers. It was textured, and she kept rubbing it. "I can touch the banister." Germany paid attention to the tiny ridges of the mineral as she breathed in, her heart still racing. "I can touch my skin." She felt her arm to see if she was still even there. "I can touch the plant." 

"Good, that's right. Now what are three things you can hear?" 

"I can hear the music. Your voice. The chatter inside," she said, focusing on her surroundings. Her jaw loosened as she felt his hand still on hers. 

"What are two things you can smell?" 

"Cigarette smoke," she said, sniffing the cold air. "Your cologne. It smells nice." 

"And what is one thing you can taste?" 

"The punch I had." Her tongue still tasted sweet.

"Good." He rubbed at her back. "Now what are you feeling?" he asked calmly again. He hasn't become frazzled throughout this ordeal, his sturdiness helping her more than he could ever know. 

"Overwhelmed," she answered, her breathing still fast but no longer debilitating. She trembled, but she swallowed to make sure she could still breathe. It hurt, but when she felt her spit go down, she knew nothing blocked her airways. They weren't completely stuffed as they felt. They were cleared now. 

"Breathe in slowly for me." 

She breathed in shakily. 

"And breathe out." 

She breathed out. 

"Good. You're doing great. Now breathe in slowly again." 

She repeated what he said. And slowly, the world tilted back to its correct axis. The shadows receded, and the walls returned to parallel lines as they should have. With his hand on her back, she felt the warmth of his palm as she focused on his shape and size through the fabric of her dress. He was a surprisingly grounding force, Germany knowing she couldn't be dead if she still had sensation.

Eventually, after a couple of minutes of breathing to his command, she entirely calmed down, his voice soothing when he was patient. He was nicer than most nurses she's been to, Germany finding it a shame he wasn't in the medical field. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked, holding onto her much to her gratitude. Her bones were weak, her legs weary as she wondered how she still had the strength to stand. 

"I am…I am not dead," she breathed, amazed. Placing a hand over her chest, her heart pulsed to its normal pace, although loud thought her ears still. Letting another shaky breath out, she realized her airways were clear once more as a chilling wind made it through her nostrils. How wonderful to feel the sensation of life…! 

"I am not dead!" she said excitedly, spinning around to the man that had saved her. Without him, she would have dropped cold from cardiac arrest! They would have found her lifeless body on the balcony, and she must know what this man had done! 

He smiled at her, glad to see her with energy, his eyes warm. "You're not, Miss. You're very alive." 

"I have never had that happen to me before. That was the strangest phenomenon," she babbled now that her heart no longer felt like it was about to explode. "I do not know what came over me. You saved my life. Thank you!" she said, wiping her eyes to avoid the mascara stains running down her cheeks again. 

"Are you a doctor?" she asked, unable to understand how he had alleviated her physical symptoms without pharmaceuticals. 

Wait. 

"Don't you dare tell anyone what you saw today," she hissed. How utterly pathetic for the new German Empire to have a fit of hysteria on the day of her debut. How utterly typical and expected for a woman to become overwhelmed. She did not want rumors of this ever to spread because if they did…

Please. Anywhere but an asylum.  

"I won't," he said, relieving her worries. "I sometimes have these fits of panic too." 

"Fits of panic? Was that what it was?" 

Am I becoming one of those insane, neurotic women? Fear clutched her chest. Am I becoming mentally ill from staying indoors too long? Perhaps this is why Prussia wanted me to socialize. I'm becoming sick.  

"Have you never experienced that?"

"No, I have not," she said. "Have you witnessed this with other women?"

"No, I used to get those nervous fits more during the war," he said, much to her shock.

I've never heard of a man succumbing to anxiety fits. Can men be afflicted with that illness as well? Impossible! 

"Which war?" she asked, the tears on her face cold when the wind passed. She looked horrendous.

He smiled. "The Wars of Italian Independence."

"Oh! I believed you to be my age," Germany said, unable to grasp how young he looked. She glanced at his hand and saw no ring. Odd. He had to be at least forty if what he said was true. Those wars were over twenty years ago now. 

If she knew better, she would say his smile turned sad. "No, maybe not, I'm afraid." 

"Who are you?" she asked, evening out her breathing to not stutter like some snotty child. 

"I'm an ambassador. I was sent here by my King."    

"So you must charade yourself since your country is still nascent." Germany looked him over. "But why would they send you?" Considering the other empires' strength, she did not see the logic of sending this young-looking man to the biggest ball in Europe. He was handsome, yes, incredibly so, but not intimidating. 

"I was a General, you know," he said, not all that offended if his smile was anything to go by. "A good one!" 

"A General?" she asked, doubtful. "What family do you come from? Who did you bribe for that to occur?” 

He laughed, Germany not understanding the joke. "No one. I came to the position naturally. But those days are past me now." 

"Because now you are here." 

"I was sent here for international relations," he said happily. 

"Prussia is downstairs," she said. "You cannot miss him. He is horrible and loud." 

He smiled at her, his eyes lighting up with new vigor, a weight perhaps gone. "Oh, so you know of the Gaias, Miss?" 

"Of course I do." She turned her back to him and walked toward the balcony to look out into the empty garden. "Prussia is whom you will want to speak with." 

"I've spoken with him already. I'm more interested in you." 

"Because you caught me crying and throwing a fit?" 

"Yes, partly." He offered her a clean handkerchief from his black suit, his eyes kind. "You're too beautiful to cry." Men always gazed at her with lust or superiority, but he didn't, his concern in her tears. She sniffed as she took the handkerchief and blotted her cheeks and eyes, Germany too embarrassed to blow her nose on the man's fine piece of cloth. He was wealthy, that she could tell from his suit and cologne, this handkerchief so finely made. He smelled of cigars too, but she wasn't sure if it was from his pack or the men inside. Everyone smelled of smoke and gin these days. 

"What is your name?" she asked. 

"You can call me Mr. Vargas," he said. 

"Mr. Vargas," she repeated, his name simple enough to remember and say. "What brought you out here?" 

"I was searching for the German Empire on the other end of the hall until I heard you slam the door," he said, turning his head toward the window, hopeful and anxious. "I was told he would be easy to find — tall and blond and humorless. Have you seen him?" 

"...No." She looked away when his eyes gazed at her with such unrelenting hope. "I have not."

He deflated but then smiled, not turning pessimistic yet. "Oh. Was he here earlier?"

Germany sniffed, glancing at him furtively. "Were you not here for the opening?" 

"I got a stomach ache from the cake in the beginning. Why — was he here?" he asked eagerly. "Did you see him? Did he leave?"

She stared at him. Was he serious? 

"What?" he asked, genuinely clueless. 

"Do you not have the faintest idea where you are right now?" 

He laughed, Germany finding it hard to believe the man was as old as he said he was. He looked so boyish with that smile, his hair thick and so rich with that color of sienna — not a single white hair from stress or age. Was he lying about his experience to make himself seem more mature? 

"This is the party for the unification of Germany and Prussia — a celebration of twenty years of unity." He smiled brightly as if proud of himself for remembering. 

“No, it is a débutante. It is not a marriage anniversary," she said curtly. 

"What! I was told it was just a fancy ball!" he said, genuinely shocked as his curl started shaking despite the lack of wind. "Where are the debs?" He spun around and started waving his hands around in an amusing panic. "My king will kill me if I don't make an introduction, at least! Oh no! I knew I forgot to do something. Ve, I always forget to do things, but this is really bad!"

"This is a private debutante hosted by the German royal family," she said, wondering if he was a spy. "Surely, you must be aware of this." 

His face told her everything she needed to know. There he went smiling again, charming and handsome and irritating. 

"You are an imbecile," she decided. She slid her back against the wall and felt her bum get cold when it hit the patio marble. 

"Miss, your dress will get dirty," he said worriedly, watching her grumpily sit on the ground.  

"Then let it get dirty," she said, wanting to freeze outside. "Let it wallow in filth and grime."

The man took off his coat quickly, Germany watching his tucked-in white shirt stretched across his chest and torso. Now gazing at him, he didn't seem as weak as she had once assumed, his shoulders broad and his waist flat and tapered. He held a fine amount of muscle. Regardless, she wondered what he was doing before he told her to get up. 

"Why?" 

"Just get up." 

She did, the man placing his black coat beneath her so her white dress would not get stained from the ground. A human like him would surely get cold from the temperature outside, his cheeks and nose red from the winds. 

"You did not need to do that," she said. 

"But I wanted to." He sat beside her, smiling cheerfully at her as he placed his forearms on his bent knees. "Isn't that better?" 

Her cheeks reddened at the gesture, Germany finding his body appealing. France was taller and more well-built, but this tan man wasn't unsightly either…and he was wealthy…older…a General…

"I suppose. Thank you." 

It was quiet between the two of them as they sat. Social etiquette said she should make conversation to ease the burden of this silence between them, but she did not want to talk. Germany wished to go home. 

"So, what happened? If you don't mind me asking," the man said, not liking to sit in solitude. 

She thumbed his handkerchief and wiped at her cheeks again, seeing the blush and mascara smear his white cloth. "Nothing that would be of interest to you." 

"Tell me anyway, and let's find out." He didn't move and sat as carefree as before, Germany finding the state of his undress quite promiscuous.

Playing with his handkerchief, words tumbled out. 

"My reputation is in shambles, and my older brother despises me because I keep defying him and embarrassing our family. Everything I do is wrong, and I cannot face him because I have left him to clean up my mess as always. He is close to disowning me, and I think I must run away. It is the only logical solution now." 

"I'm sure your brother doesn't hate you, Miss," the man said. "He wouldn't want you to run away. He would miss you dearly. No brother would sleep well at night at the thought of his younger sister gone from home." 

"But it would be for the best," she said, too afraid to face Prussia now. "I have angered him." 

His eyes softened in understanding. "Did you two have a fight?" 

"A terrible one," she said, playing with the handkerchief. "This fight was unlike any other. He was very mean." 

What am I, a toddler? she berated herself. But it was true. He was very mean to her.  

"Older brothers are like that sometimes," he said. "I have a pretty grumpy older brother myself. He says a lot of nasty things he doesn't mean when he's mad, but he cares about me — deep down, at least. I think that is how all older siblings are. Emotions come harder for them. The responsibility is greater." He smiled. "Especially if he must look after a beautiful, younger sister." 

She sniffed. "You think?" 

"I think so. Is this your first fight with him?" 

"My first serious one," she said softly. 

"So you are not used to disagreeing with him," he said, slowly getting a picture of the situation. She looked down at her feet. "What did you two fight about?"  

Germany shifted. "It is complicated to explain."

He hummed. "Is he here tonight?" 

"Yes. He will never want to associate with me again. I have ruined our name." 

"And how did you do that?" 

"My heart was fooled tonight," she said, tears brimming on her waterline as she thought about the horrid memory of France wrapping his arms around another woman. "By a man as beastly as they say." 

"What happened?" 

Germany huddled into herself, not wanting to cry in front of a stranger. These feelings were best repressed and sobbed over the blank pages of a journal. Only in the solitude of her pen and paper would she be allowed to mourn. 

"I saw him fornicating another woman! In public!" Germany said, unable to believe what she saw. "Right after he told me —" She shut her mouth. He was a direct pipeline to those in power, this man a liaison to the military and monarchies of Europe. Germany was green but not green enough not to realize that his mouth would always be worth more than hers. 

"It is frivolous female hysterics," she said tightly. "I do not wish to think of him any longer. He is deceased to me."

"Oh…you caught your husband having an affair," he said understandingly. "That sounds awful. I'm sorry you had to witness that, Miss. Truly." 

Her face became warm at the sympathy he held in his voice. She awkwardly coughed into her hand. "Ah, no. I am not married."

She shifted, awaiting the judgment that always came. A wind passed as she moved her foot up and down, the diamond on her white heel glittering.

"Did you love him? As a wife would?" he asked. 

"I…" She looked down. Here in the dark, a stranger would always be more intimate. 

"Perhaps I did," she murmured, her chest tight once more as she shut her eyes and breathed in. A cold tear rolled down her cheek. "Foolish, yes, I know. Everyone warned me of this." 

"What did they warn you about?"

Germany played with her skirt, petulant. Her brother's words echoed in her head over and over and over. "That is he a rake. That he will promenade with a new woman every week." She stared at the ground, her breath caught in a frozen hand. "I am a stupid, stupid woman."

"You don't strike me as stupid," he said. 

"Well, I am. I became swept away by empty gestures and vapid platitudes." 

"I think you are being too hard on yourself. You can't blame yourself for believing the lies someone else thought of as truth. What could you have done differently?" 

"I should have never spoken with him. I should have punched him in the jugular when I had the chance." 

"Punched him in the jugular?" he asked, laughing at her answer. 

"Yes. So that he may never breathe or speak again. A benefit to humanity and the female race." 

"He must have meant a lot to you," he said. Germany waited for him to make fun of her, scold her, and call her dumb. She was nothing but a dumb young girl. 

Germany kept playing with the hem of her dress, her chest tight and her bones frail from the fright before. She breathed in and looked at the sky. 

"Is it foolish that I still care for him?" she asked, wondering what was wrong with her. Try as she might, she couldn't entirely hate France. It wasn't as if he ever declared her to be anything to him. He certainly had no legal obligation toward her. Things were fun. 

At least, they were supposed to be. 

"I don't think so. I don't think God ever rejects love for us," the man said sincerely, Germany only now realizing that he wore a golden cross necklace typically worn by the Latin Catholics. "I see every rejection as His redirection. It's like blind man's bluff."

"The children's game?" she asked, confused. 

The man smiled. "Exactly like the children's game. We're all blindfolded, trying to follow the sound of the voice we think is right. When you're playing the game, what do you do when a voice doesn't lead you to the players hiding?" 

"I keep trying to find them," Germany said in a duh voice. "The game isn't over." 

"That's right. The game isn't over. It's not over until you've found everyone where they need to be, and you can take the blindfold off."

"How prolific. The Goethe of our time." 

He laughed, Germany feeling a small smile tug at her lips as she watched him. What an alacrious man. He had a wonderful laugh and a beautiful smile. 

"Did that not make you swoon?" 

"No. I am a woman of science," she said proudly. 

"Of science?" 

"Yes," she said testily. "Of the natural sciences." 

"My Lady is both beautiful and intelligent," he mused. 

"Yes. Naturally."

He smiled at her cockiness. "And what else?"

She placed her hands over her lap. "It seems you are always blindfolded, sir. You cannot see the danger that is right in front of you."

"I'm being led astray by a siren. She has a beautiful voice." He smiled as he tilted his face toward her, his gaze making her antsy. "I may have cheated a little. I wanted to look at her. Her beauty is all-encompassing." 

Germany's face flushed bright red as she shifted next to him. 

"You are an even worse rake," she said, feeling a warm fluttering in her stomach. 

He laughed. "Do you have a type?" 

Maybe. 

"You are abhorrent."

He laughed again. 

She crossed her arms and looked away. 

"You said you were a woman of science," he mentioned. "Why?" 

"Because. God cannot lead an army." 

"An army?" he asked, surprised.

"An army," she said, daring him to make fun of her ambitions. "I will lead an army like the world has never witnessed." 

Mr. Vargas was quiet as he looked up at the stars too. She wondered what he saw in them — if anything at all. 

"Everyone wants to rule the world, don't they?" he asked, as if far away. "Why?"  

"Why?" 

"Yes. Why?" 

"Because if you do not control the world, the world controls you." 

"Do you really believe that?" 

"I do not believe it. I know it." She looked at him, his gaze sad for whatever reason. 

"I guess you do," he said, turning his head toward the balcony. He brightened up suddenly as the music played below faintly.

"Would you care for a dance? It sounds like you've been through a lot tonight." 

"A dance? I do not wish to go inside," she said, the music too muffled at this distance from the dancehall for them to have a proper dance. 

"We don't have to return to the others." He held onto her hands, his touch warm but gentle. She blushed as he smiled encouragingly and gently helped her get up.  

"Is this not uncouth?" she asked, not used to breaking so much social decorum in one night. 

"Only if we make it so." He smiled at her, Germany's cheeks rushing with more color. "No one's watching." 

She hesitated to clasp her hand over his. "Do you not have a wife…?" 

"No. No wife. I guess…I guess I'm what you call a widower," he said, uncertain of that statement too. 

"A widower?" she asked sadly for the man. "I am sorry to hear that. I am not seeking to be your second wife, however. Do not even entertain the notion." 

He laughed at the blunt statement. "I'm guessing you're tired of all the marriage proposals?" 

She clasped her hand into his and felt her face warm to the impromptu dance when she placed her hand slightly below his shoulder to feel the swelling of his bicep. His right hand settled on her shoulder blade as their left hands came touching by the palms, his hand naturally larger than her to clasp around her thin fingers. He would be her second dance of the night, Germany shifting her feet so they would not bump into each other later. They stood mere inches away, their stances ready for a waltz. 

"Yes. So do not become overconfident. I will stomp on your feet if you try something," she said, the scent of his cologne much stronger when so close. 

"Are you a bad dancer?" he asked as they began to move to the count of the music. "Should I have worn my steel-toe boots instead?" 

"No. I am a marvelous dancer! I have been told I am as elegant as a…um, a dove. Yes. I will stomp on them on purpose." 

He smiled at her lie. "And why would you do that?" 

"Because. I just told you," she said, matching his tempo when they rotated and moved across the floor. Germany was now a little glad Prussia had forced her into those dance classes. Maybe her brother knew a little bit of what he was talking about. 

"Tell me again?" he asked as they kept moving across the floor. 

"No." 

"Do I make you nervous?" he asked with his attention on her, making her stomach flip. Curse these teenage hormones. Male validation was atrocious! 

"No." 

"Very convincing answers," he said, her face getting hotter than it already was. "You have a way with words." 

"I am glad we are both in agreement on that," she said as they moved faster since the music's tempo also sped up. "You are perhaps smarter than you appear." 

"And you are sharper to the tongue than you appear." 

"And what impression did you have of me initially?" she asked, now daring herself to look deeper into his eyes. What a beautiful shade of amber, his eyes almost that of melting gold. 

"I'm unsure. I'm still forming that opinion." 

"First impressions do not require that much pondering," she denied. "What did you think of me? At first sight?" 

"I don't think you would want to know that," he said, giving her a smile that made her face flush hot. She squeezed onto his hand, hoping to crush bone.  

"How vile!"

But, sadly, no bones broke. He liked the squeeze, their palms shifting as he smiled at her. 

"Don't worry. It was only good thoughts," he said. "And for me?"

"That you are not from here." 

"Where do you think I'm from?" 

The song ended, and they stood in their waltz position as they gazed at each other. 

"Spain?" she guessed. 

He smiled. "No, not a Spaniard. I can speak Spanish, though." 

"Portugal?" 

He shook his head. 

"Italy?"

"That's right. I'm Italian," he said happily, his smile genuine at the pride he had for his home. 

"Fitting perhaps," she said, moving with him when the second song began. 

"I did tell you I fought in the Wars of Indpendence, didn't I?" he asked, smiling at her. 

"You could have been Austrian," she defended. 

He laughed. "Good point. But you didn't say Austrian."

"You do not look Austrian," she mumbled, feeling dumb. His nationality was apparent. 

"What's an Austrian supposed to look like?" 

She schooled her face to mimic her cousin's, her lips dragging down as her brows came together. "Like this." 

"Really?" he asked, smiling. 

"Yes. It is obvious to tell I am not Austrian," she said, nodding. Surely, he would get the hint. 

"No, you're not Prussian or Austrian. Your eyes are much kinder," he said softly, Germany unable to make much eye contact with him when he gazed at her. Talking with him felt so natural. These feelings of ease were never present with France. She forgot that they were dancing still, the music nothing but background noise as her cheeks blushed red with the cold. 

"My mistake." 

"Your mistake?" 

"Yes. I should terrify you." 

"But you don't," he said with a smile that made her stomach flip in happiness. What a wonderful distraction. 

"When we meet again, you will be groveling for your life."  

He spun them around, Germany quickly matching his footing not to stumble as he laughed happily. "If you wanted to see me again, you could have just said so! Don't flirt with me like this."

"No, you idiot! What is wrong with you?" she asked, wanting to laugh.  

"Oh." His smile dropped. "I'm never going to recover from that kind of rejection. I think I'll go now. You said I'll be groveling and my Italian pride can't handle that." His eyes went to the balcony. 

She couldn't help it. 

Germany covered her mouth to hide the giggle that wanted to come out. 

When he looked at her strangely, she couldn't help but smile even wider, Germany fighting the urge to laugh even more. 

It wasn't funny. It wasn't supposed to be anyway, but his tone and face made her laugh, the situation absurd. Germany tried to reign in her laughs before he thought she was some heartless wench. 

"Are you laughing at my despair?" he asked. 

"No," she said unconvincingly. "I'm not."

"I'm going to jump over the ledge. I'll go splat. Like a big pancake. A big one."  

"No, you won't," she said, smiling at the silly image of a huge pancake falling from over the ledge. "You'll fall like a sack of potatoes." 

"I think being called a sack of potatoes truly makes me want to end it all."  

"That's the tipping point?" she asked, fully giggling. How fun! This was her first laugh of the night! This man didn't mind her dark humor, Germany, of course, not wanting him to have real suicidal thoughts. 

"I think so. It was nice knowing you." He moved toward the ledge, and Germany reached for his hand, still laughing. He didn't move fast or erratically, his eyes playful with her as he let her drag him back. 

"No, don't. There is so much to live for," she said, bringing him back toward the center. 

"Like?" 

"Warm bread. Beer. Chocolate. There's a lot to live for." 

"Bread?" he asked, now his turn to laugh. 

She yanked at his hand. Germany had been completely serious. "Yes. Bread." 

"Okay. I'll keep that in mind." 

"Yes. Exactly. I know everything." 

He smiled, even more amused. "Do you?" 

"Yes." 

"Do you know I want to see you again?" he asked to get into position to dance again. 

She followed since she heard the music begin not long after. "You don't even know my name." 

"That can be fixed. What's your name?" he asked, thumbing her knuckles since their hands came together again. 

Germany became flustered at his touching. "Well, if you must know —" 

BANG.

Germany jumped when the patio door slammed open and immediately removed herself from Mr. Vargas. They hadn't been doing anything wrong, yet her heart jumped to her throat at the notion of being seen with a man unsupervised. A gaze was already on her, the eyes of judgment permanently heavy. She turned around and decided jumping over the ledge wasn't a bad idea. 

Of course, it was Prussia. 

But, strangely enough, Prussia wasn't glaring at her. His eyes were far more dangerously set on the Italian ambassador she had been speaking to. 

Prussia stared hard at the man beside her, her brother glaring bullets into the man's skull. 

"I was looking for you," Prussia said dangerously calm as his gaze finally settled on her, the prodigal sister of the night. Those eyes of magenta red burned into her soul as she shifted guiltily, his anger so deeply stroked that he could not jest. 

"Did you need me for something?" she asked, knowing that wasn't the answer he wanted. 

"Yes. It's time to go. We need to talk. Now." 

Germany shuffled closer to Mr. Vargas. She did not believe her brother was abusive, but she had never riled him up to such a degree. Prussia seemed quite bellicose now, his body stiff and straight as he stood by the door. Mr. Vargas, whether he knew it or not, was of great aid, as Prussia now had to think carefully about what he said and did in the presence of a human man. 

"I do not have anything to speak about with you," she said, not wanting to talk to the man that had considered selling her off to an ugly, fat businessman from London in front of her face. 

"It's too cold outside for you to be out. Come inside."

"I like it out here better." 

"Prussia? Is that you?" Mr. Vargas asked, blinking before smiling happily. “What are you doing here? Do you know each other?”

Prussia frowned, finally walking forward and into the balcony, her heart racing when witnessing their distance shorten quickly. 

"Yes. I’m her brother," Prussia said in a way that made Germany mentally groan when he stood before her. Men and their stupid egos! Why must he try to be so intimidating to every man in whom she showed the faintest interest? She hoped Mr. Vargas saw her expression of embarrassment for such boorishness. 

"Her brother?" Mr. Vargas asked, his eyes glancing between the two as if trying to understand something. His smile slowly faded away.

"Yes. You stay away from her, or else I will kill you,” Prussia said, much deadlier than their argument before. He had been holding back on her. Prussia’s eyes were murderous toward Mr. Vargas.

With France, nothing inappropriate occurred between the two of them under his careful eye (because how could anything scandalous have happened when the center of attention in a ballroom filled with high-profile guests and lights?).

But for a man to see her alone in the dark so he could secretly touch her while dancing with no one’s permission — without Prussia’s permission —

Germany hoped Mr. Vargas valued his life. 

“Let's go," Prussia said, too furious to stay and talk. He was fuming. 

"I do not want to go," she said, holding her ground. 

He slowly turned his head back at her. "You don't want to go." 

Her stomach twirled petrified as she tried not to shake.

"No. I-I do not."

"We're leaving," he growled, taking her by the crook of her elbow to forcefully depart them, talk no longer an option with her. Germany stumbled, shocked as Mr. Vargas watched her get dragged away. It was perhaps foolish to hope he would step in and come to her defense, but she did, Germany's eyes meeting his through the glass window as Prussia slammed it. Tugged by the arm, Germany was forced to spin around and walk, the memory of Mr. Vargas gone now. 

"Where are you taking me? Let go!" she said, anxious when his grip did not loosen around her arm.

"Away from him," he said, his eyes only forward. “You’re no better than Mrs. Ellington.”

Germany gasped in horror. No! No, this was not the same! She wasn’t like that woman! She was different! How could he say that to her? Was that how he saw her now? 

Badump.

Germany’s brows furrowed together as the walls squeezed tighter, her chest tight in fear. Her heart raced once more as if to vomit out of her throat, this feeling of death about to take her away as she started shaking in his grip. The hallways were too dark. The walls were too close. Her breathing was too slow. 

She was going to die. 

She wanted Mr. Vargas to help her like before. He made the bad feeling go away. He had made her smile. He had made her laugh. He made things okay —!

Germany whipped her head toward the balcony in longing as she felt tears start to fall again. And as she saw the last glimpse of his profile, her heart ached. She caught him in the middle of turning away from her to look out into the sky. His back now faced her as he leaned on the ledge as the wind passed.  

Those eyes were sad. 

He hadn't found what he wanted.  

And neither had she. 

"Where is Germany?" Prussia asked Elaine when the hallways were dead silent now back home.

"She's in her room. She is quite upset, sir. She demanded no one to visit her — especially you."

"That's what she said?" Prussia asked, glancing worriedly at the shut door. 

"Yes. Apologize to her. She has been crying ever since she came back," Elaine said, giving him a pointed stare. Short women always made him anxious, the woman barely 5'2 yet giving him the most judgemental, hard stare only a woman could give. 

"It's been two hours. She's still crying?" he asked, wondering how someone could be sad for that long. 

"Yes. She told me you were quite terrible to her." 

"I wasn't terrible to her. She's just mad because I was trying to protect her." 

"Yes, and I'm sure you were tactful with your words." 

"I was just telling her the truth," he said, wondering if he should let her sleep on this. Most of his negative emotions went away after a good night's rest. 

"I'm sure." 

"It shouldn't have bothered her so much. She's not sensitive. She should have understood," he said, crossing his arms. He was a nation of warfare for a reason —  did she expect him to be a poet? 

Elaine sighed, frustrated with him. "She wants your validation, sir. You're her only family — the only man who's taken care of her since birth. What do you think your constant displeasure with her and absence has done to her? Why would you think saying such harsh words wouldn't impact her?" 

"Ah...but she knows I care about her, right?" Prussia asked awkwardly. "I'm not away because I want to be. I'm busy."

"Have you told her that?" 

"Told her what?"

"That you care about her?" 

Prussia gestured around awkwardly. "She knows. She gets it." 

"Sometimes, a woman needs to be told these things." Elaine glanced at the door. "A growing girl does." Her voice softened. "Lady Germany has always been such a lonely child. She has no friends her age at the palace nor does she have friends with the other nations like you do. I'm sure whatever she did at the ball was because she was happy to interact with others like her. I do not believe she did anything with ill will. Lady Germany is not like that."

"You're right. She isn't," Prussia said, feeling even more terrible now that he's had time to think alone and cool off. He hadn’t seen her smile at all.

But God, did he hate France. Why did that slimy asshole have to go after Germany? And why did his sister have to fall for it? Teenage hormones were one hell of a thing for her to cry after one dance and a couple of words.  

"You messed up. Now go apologize," Elaine said, pushing his back so he would be at the front door. 

"Can you be there too?" Prussia asked, not wanting to face Germany alone. 

"No. You're the one who made her cry, not me." 

Yeah, I know. 

He sighed and knocked on the door, not wanting to do this. This sucked. Hurting his little sister was not awesome. 

"It’s me. Can I come in?" he asked as Elaine disappeared from the hallway. 

"No," Germany said from the other side. "Go away." 

He figured she wouldn't be thrilled to talk to him. 

"I want to check up on you. I'm not here to yell at you. Promise," he said, waiting on the other end of the door. "Can you open the door?" 

Thump. 

She threw a pillow at the door. 

"NO! GO AWAY!"

Jesus Christ, did she summon a demon to possess her body or something? Prussia thought, wanting to turn around from the forbidden door. He hasn't been to this side of the palace in years. 

His knuckles hesitated to knock on the wood as he held his hand up to the door with a pause. He really didn't want to do this...

But he was awesome so he would push through! 

He knocked on the door while looking away. "I won't take long. I know it's late, but can we talk? Tonight wasn't supposed to end like this." 

He had seen her talking with the female nations and having a good time. That was how the night should have continued. There should have been some dancing from the other male nations (who were known homosexuals, so that was fine), drinking, eating, and gossiping with newfound friends for a fun night. Romance always ruined everything.

"..."

"..."

"..."

The silence stretched for an uncomfortable half minute, and these were the longest thirty seconds of Prussia's life. He was about to knock again until Germany swung open the door. She stood in front of him with her long blonde hair loose and wavy from the tight curls brushed out. Her hair ended at her hip bone, her unhappy face clean and smooth with Vaseline slathered on to ensure her skin didn't dry out on these cold winter nights. Dewy and natural-faced, she looked prettier than she did with all the makeup patted on. 

In her night dress, she turned around and walked toward her bed, Prussia wishing his sister didn't look so...womanly when wearing that white chemise to bed. He wasn't trying to be a salacious man, but he had no idea how her hips became so wide and her waist so small. She wasn't wearing a corset to bed, so her large breasts were free. They were bigger than he remembered, and looking at her figure and face reminded him why he had to work so hard as a brother to protect her. 

She was his pretty little sister. He couldn't have someone take advantage of her. He couldn't have some gross, putrid man lust after her and do horrible things to her. She was untouched by men's evil manipulation and touches and kisses and lies. Ignorance was bliss, and he wanted to keep it that way. Even if she got mad at him, he would do anything to ensure she wasn't hurt. 

"Did Elaine send you?" she asked, sitting on the edge of her bed. 

He slowly sat on the edge of the bed with her, feeling awkward. He had stopped coming into her room when she hit puberty, so now her room felt foreign and permanently off limits — he had walked in on her in a chemise, for goodness sake. Prussia didn't feel like he was supposed to be here. But he pushed through the awkward unease. 

"No, of course not. I came here by myself," he lied. "Elaine went to bed." 

She stared at him, not believing a single word he said. When he didn't move, she grabbed her brush from her nightstand and brushed her hair to ignore him. 

"I want to talk about what happened,” he said since she wouldn’t begin the conversation. 

"The part where you grabbed me and dragged us back home after seeing me happy for one second? Or maybe the part where you threatened to disown me? Or the part where you considered selling me to a random businessman?” 

"I wasn't going to sell you off," he said, knowing she had run away before she listened to the rest of what he said. "You're not getting married to Mr. Ellington's son. He's a human. I was able to appease him by promising him preferential treatment at customs." 

Germany gave him a side-eye. "His goods will not get taxed?”

"It's either that or you get married. You made quite a mess with his wife. She was very offended." 

"Of course she was. She was having an affair," she said, not apologetic at all. 

"It was kind of awesome to see France scurry away like that," Prussia said, now that they were alone. "It was funny. I don't think I've ever seen such a pathetic escape." 

Germany's face brightened as she put her hairbrush down. "Wasn't it? He scurried away like a drowned rat." 

"But that's not something you can do so brashly," he said, despite how great it had been to see the Frenchman run away. "You humiliated Mr. Ellington more than you did France. That could have turned ugly."

Germany crossed her arms. "He was calling me a wench. So I showed him a wench."

"But you understand why that wasn't the right thing to do?" 

"I thought you liked seeing people humiliated. You told England I was Bavaria," she said, still upset about that. 

"That's a bit different. I don't ruin marriages. One's a bit more harmless than the other." 

"That is not true. You do ruin marriages. But when it is you, it is different," she said bitterly. 

"I don't know where you got the idea I'm having an affair from," he said as if it was poison in his mouth, "but it's not true. Hungary hates me most times, and it's been like that since we were kids. I guess you don't see it much since Hungary tries to keep her temper under control when you're around, but let me tell you, West, we fight a lot more than you think. Austria's annoying, but come on. That's his wife. I wouldn't do that to them."

“But you consider each other as close, do you not? You two have history. You are annoying and narcissistic but reliable. You have been a consistent male companion to her since childhood and are not ugly. Hungary is a very feminine woman, and you are a very masculine man — everything Austria is not. Surely, there is sexual tension in all the teasing between you two. Especially now since you have become stronger than before. You do not have to love someone to be sexually attracted to them.” 

Prussia scratched his cheek. Germany understood female attraction better than he ever would. 

“I mean, I don't know. Maybe,” Prussia said awkwardly, starting to overthink his interactions with Hungary. “If she has the hots for me, she doesn't act on it or show it.” 

“An affair is not always physical. It can be emotional,” Germany said as if he were the dumbest thing on the planet. 

“An emotional affair?” That sounded like something only a woman would come up with. 

“Yes,” she said. “Emotional cheating. It is when you have an inappropriate emotional closeness with someone who is not your husband or wife. The excuse is always friendship. Why was she talking to you and not Austria at the party? That is odd. You hate each other. Supposedly. Why did she come to visit us when I was younger alone and not with Austria? She would always go to talk to you first before seeing me. Of course, I know what you will say — they were business matters. And perhaps they conveniently were. But it does not change the fact that these are not normal actions of a woman in complete love with her husband. She finds ways to see you alone.” 

Germany had him stumped there. Prussia never thought much of his interactions with Hungary. He was so awesome, after all — why wouldn't Hungary wouldn't be around him? It wasn't like either of them had much free time, so the few times they saw each other, it was nice to catch up. Prussia could only imagine how annoying it must be to be around Austria all the time. Emotional cheating was too intense of a word. It made him feel gross. And unawesome. 

“But we don't flirt with each other when we talk,” Prussia said, getting confused. Hungary always confused him. He had thought his friend was a guy for centuries until Hungary went from he to a she. That was a big shock. And then that tomboyish she went into a happy housewife she. And so now Prussia gave up on assuming he knew anything about the female mind. 

“Let me ask you this — has she ever shared her marital problems with you? Has she shared things with you that you know she would not with Austria?” 

“Yeah, but that's not that weird. Austria's a prick. Women vent. Even you do it when you're in a pissy mood.”

Germany wasn't pleased with that description and gave him a foul look. But it was true! Germany wasn't immune to bitching. But it was fine. He expected it. 

“That is not normal,” she said. “Put yourself in Austria's shoes and tell me that what you just heard does not rouse suspicion.”

Prussia thought about it. Germany was making some sense here. He wouldn't like that. 

“But we fight so often,” Prussia said. “She's wanted to murder me before for hurting Austria. She’s given me concussions with that damn frying pan of hers!” 

Germany sighed, her eyes almost turning pitiful of him now. “She is using you, and you are not even aware of it. That is sad." 

"Are you jealous of Hungary?" 

Germany stiffened as he watched.

He wasn't blind.

Germany's eyes have wandered over to Hungary ever since she was a child, and, at first, Prussia assumed it was the awe of witnessing the rarity of a female nation in the first time in her young life. But as the years passed, Germany's staring became more intense and longing in the sidelines when Hungary smiled and spoke with her. Hungary noticed nothing of Germany's red face when she hugged Germany happily and obliviously to how Germany reacted when their chests met.

Germany would never approve Hungary with anyone. 

Because, in truth, Prussia doubted Germany wanted Hungary with any man. His older sister had died like this as well. And now Germany was taking her frustrations of unrequited feelings onto him by projecting. Prussia didn't love Hungary. And he doubted Germany did too. Puberty was an awful time. 

"No. I am not jealous," she said, curtly. "There is nothing to be jealous of." 

Prussia made a face. "Alright, sure. Whatever you say."

"I am NOT!" 

Prussia held up his hands at the enraged scream. "Alright, alright. Jeez. It's not like you were staring at her all night or anything."

Her eyebrow twitched. "Because she was with you when she should not have been."

"A sin, I know," he said. "The horror." 

She shoved him angrily. "Just go away if you are only going to antagonize me!" 

Her shove hurt as his torso swayed from her push on his arm. He wasn't rocked off the bed, but he winced. That strength was definitely one of a growing empire. 

“Okay, fine, Jesus. We were getting off topic anyway," Prussia said, rubbing at his shoulder. “This is about you and what happened with Mr. Ellington.”

"Their marriage was already ruined,” she said, not a single bit ashamed. “I simply exposed it. It was the right thing to do. Now Mr. Ellington knows what his wife is like. Some people only learn the hard way. He is not the only one who can start rumors."  

Unease settled in his stomach. It was hard to know what that cold face thought when she felt slighted. It scared him sometimes. The angered, calculating female mind was frightening. 

"Yeah. Sure. Let's not do that next time, okay? Punching him would have been a better way to deal with that. Or beating the shit out of France," he said to get her mind off whatever she was plotting. 

"Yes," she said thoughtfully. "I suppose you are right. I could have demonstrated our empire's strength by mercilessly beating France in the garden. No one would have noticed his screams and blood in the dark garden, and I could have extorted Mrs. Ellington's lifelong silence. But that still would not have negated Mr. Ellington's comment about me."

Prussia sighed. "How did you even hear that part of the conversation? I thought you were in the bedroom." 

"I was by the staircase." 

"Were you hiding? I felt you go outside and come back inside, but I couldn't spot you."

"You can sense where I am?" 

"I can't pinpoint your exact location," he said, realizing this was information he had never told her. "But I can feel your general presence when you're near. It's like a pulse that suddenly becomes slower and slower the farther you are away from me. I don't know if it's because we're siblings or if it's a Gaia thing in general. I was able to do it with all the German states before you were born." 

"That is disturbing. I do not have the same sensors." 

Prussia shrugged to then proudly smile. "I guess it just comes with being such an awesome big brother." 

"You hate me."

"Hate you?" He had been mad, yes, but he could never hate her.

She held onto herself. "You yelled at me and wished to disown me. You, deep down, hate me. I cannot be emotionless like you. I cannot be the brother you wish for. This body will always bring trouble for you."

Prussia's heart ached as he placed his hand on her small head. He looked down at her as he settled his palm on her gently. 

"That's the furthest thing from the truth. I don't hate you. I don't wish I had a brother. That's awful."

Her eyes got misty. "That is not what it sounded like."

Prussia's eyes went down. "Did I make you cry?"

"What do you expect to happen when you yell at me and threaten to hit me?" 

He cringed. Yeah, I shouldn't have said that. That's not cool. Prussia was stronger and taller than her, so she had every reason to feel fear.

"I don't want to hear you crying," he said softly. "That's not awesome. I don't want my little sister crying."

"Well, I did. So you failed."

Ouch. That scorched his soul. 

"I know. I overreacted," he said guiltily. 

She glanced at him. "And?" 

"I was kind of a jerk, okay, yeah," he said, loathing to admit it.

”You said I was like Mrs. Ellington,” she said, glaring. “You were more than a jerk.” 

“I said that?” he asked, not remembering. His memory became a bit blurry when his body thought of something as a battle. 

“You did,” she said, extremely hurt. “You are just like the rest. I hate you.” 

“West…”

“No. Hate is not a strong enough word for what I feel. I despise you. Detest you."

She was stabbing his heart with an invisible sword that hurt far more than anything he had experienced in battle.

”So remember that for the rest of your life because my heart will never change,” she said, turning away from him.  

“Come on, don’t be like this. I was only trying to protect you. You have no idea what that guy wanted to do with you alone in the dark — he’s Italian. They’re just as bad as the French,” he said, knowing that at her age, everything felt catastrophic when it wasn’t. 

”Apologize or get out of my room.” 

“I won’t apologize for taking you away from him, but I will say that I didn’t mean to say you’re like Mrs. Ellington,” he said, comfortable to say that, at least. “You would never go that low. You’re the complete opposite of her.” 

She glanced at him, her eyes still distrustful. “And?”

”I don’t know. What else do you want me to say?” he asked because he didn’t know how to continue. He didn’t apologize often. This wasn’t a Confession at church. So.

”An apology that does not sound like you are being tortured would be nice,” she said, unamused. 

He wasn’t good at this for a reason! 

His foot jittered as he looked around anxiously. There it was. These feelings were unawesome. 

He should have known better. Nothing ever came out right! That was why Germany had to have Elaine around — he wasn’t a good enough brother — never was — and now she hated him too — Prussia was born to kill non-believers of Christ — was anyone surprised he hurt her? — how was he supposed to nurture anything in his pathetic life — he didn’t want to hurt her — he didn’t — he didn’t, but it was hard — he didn’t understand — he was a bad brother — he wasn’t going to ever give her what she wanted — maybe Hungary was right — no, she wasn’t right — he would be all alone  without West — she was the best thing that has ever happened to him — so — so — he didn’t want to mess up — he messed up — he messed up a lot — his life was a mess up — 

WAIT. 

Did he think he was an unworthy brother? He was AWESOME. He was Prussia. And EVERYONE loved him. He almost doubted himself there!

“An apology? Easy. I can do that. Yeah.”

Germany looked at him weirdly, his leg still jittering.

“I really didn’t want to be so mean to you tonight," he started off awkwardly. "You didn’t deserve that." He glanced at her but then looked back at the wall. "I just said those things because you put me under a lot of stress, but I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I didn’t mean it. I.” His collar felt tight. “I was unawesome.”

"You were an asshole." 

"An asshole who was right," he said since he had correctly predicted everything that would happen. 

It didn't get her riled up as before, her brows furrowing together as her eyes got glossy. Her eyes brimmed with tears as her hands curled within themselves on her thighs. She made herself smaller and made as little noise as possible. 

"Yes. You were," she whispered. 

He didn't want to see her like this.  

"Come here," he said softly, gently pushing her head toward him.

Germany wrapped her arms around him, her cheek meeting his chest as he held her. She still felt so small in his arms, Prussia unable to believe she was twenty now. The years went by so fast. Prussia remembered when she was just a little toddler causing mischief with the chefs and maids of the palace. She used to run straight to him when he came home and laugh happily when he lifted her. She used to kick her little feet against his collarbone as she sat on his shoulders and birdwatched with him, and she would love going on horseback rides with him and shooting with him on the weekends and...and...

His West wasn't small anymore. 

Oh, wow, his West wasn't small anymore. 

Perhaps he had been suffering from cognitive dissonance because it was only now that he realized his sister was a young adult. The party he had spent months coordinating and setting up for her was so she could enter society as a young woman. It was a debutante. By definition, she wasn't small anymore. She was now a young, eligible woman, and he could feel that just by her hug. Soft breasts and hips and…

She was his baby West! This party was for his little sister. This party was for his little Germany…

Germany looked up at him, confused when he completely stilled. "Bruder?"

No, his West wasn't small anymore. He couldn't protect her from every evil like he used to, be her everything as he had been for so many years. Things weren't that simple anymore. Her problems couldn't be solved as easily anymore. 

She was getting big now, having thoughts of her own and entering adulthood. She questioned the world around her, pushed the limits, and acted like any normal teenage girl. It was healthy to want to separate and form her own identity. In his heart, Prussia wanted her to stay by his side and remain happy with him for the rest of their lives, but he knew, logically, that it would be terrible for her. 

"I guess it is me," he said softly. 

West breaking away from him hurt too much. She was his precious little sister. He had been with her since he discovered her in the wilderness. He had been the one to tell every noble and royal to fuck off when they doubted her existence and validity as a nation. He stopped every assassination attempt that came with the discontent of her sex, and he argued day in and out to have her placed in the Berlin Palace with him instead of a shack in the back where the others thought she belonged. He had watched over her for fifty years when she had remained in her crib so tiny and frail, sick with fever and pneumonia as she slept feeble from the internal disarray of the German states going into war. His baby sister, weak and hanging on the thread of consciousness, had slept as he watched over her and promised her a brighter future if only she waited and fought against her sickness as an infant. And fight she did, the doctors always predicting she would die quickly. 

Germany, the stubborn brat that she was, came alive in 1871. And ever since then has only grown stronger, smarter, and even prettier than anyone could have imagined. When everyone thought she could barely walk, she ran and sprinted, laughing across the halls.    

He was there for her at every big moment of her childhood — when she took her first steps, when she learned how to talk, when she started kindergarten, when she got excited about her baby teeth falling, when she brought home terrible art projects, when she started reading, when she shot her first bullet, when she got her first period, when she got into her fist fight, when she...when she...

When she gets her first boyfriend? When she gets her first kiss? 

Oh, how disgusting. 

"But you're growing up," he said sadly. 

Yes, the world wasn't going to be as simple anymore. The times were changing. A great war was on the horizon. It was in the air sizzling like a heavy summer storm waiting for any tiny change in the air to bring on terrible rain and thunder.

Germany did not realize how precarious the balance of power was in Europe. Any rumor or suspicion was enough to set off secret alliances and pacts.

Prussia could not have eyes on every wall. He did not know everything within the palace, let alone the continent. He was afraid this would be the last time they would be able to care about dresses and etiquette when involved with empires wanting to play with their new industrialized weapons. He had no proof of anything. But his gut screamed something was lurking in the shadows. France and England seemed up to no good...

"Yes. I am."

Prussia smiled. "You little smartass." 

She furrowed her brows. "I am agreeing with you. I am growing up."

He dreaded the day the world would scar her. The life of a nation was hard and lonely, and he wanted to push off warfare for as long as possible. He had trained her for war all her life, but that didn't mean she had to use her skills so quickly. It could wait…

Who even was he right now? Him? PRUSSIA? NOT want war? The turn of the century brought forth terrible things. 

But things were different now. He had something precious to protect. He didn't want to chuck his sister into war. Things were fine as they were, where her worries were about a fancy, expensive ball and what man she should blow off next. She can stay here and discuss which dress to wear for the day, argue about shoes and hair, and then roll her eyes at him when he said something painfully obvious (or annoying). They can drink beer, visit a garden, and maybe see a play after she rattled off some cool thing she read from a scientific publication. She could keep showing him her inventions, ideas, and peace and wealth made for a fine life...

Ugh. He sounded like a geezer. He sounded like that loser Austria. Giving a shit about someone did that. 

“Yeah…um, hey. You know that I care about you and stuff, right?” he asked, wondering when the room had gotten so hot. Saying this to her had seemed a lot easier in his head. He wanted to apologize. But he didn’t know how. 

“You sometimes care. When it benefits you.”

Hearing that broke his heart. Was that the impression she had on him? 

“No, West. I care about you all the time,” he said, looking down at her. He gently petted her hair as she kept her arms around him. “I was just mad. My job is to protect you. Nations don't play nicely. They're not as honest and fair as you. You assume the best out of people. You assume everyone is reasonable like you.”

“That is not true.” 

“It is. You assume things will go fine and that people are good. Anxious types assume the worst of humanity and prepare for it. They look for the bad. You don't.”

“Are you the anxious type?” she asked. “I am not.”

“No. Just old,” he said with a smile.

“Oh. I see,” she said quietly. “I never thought about it like that.” 

“And that's why I'm here.” He tapped her forehead with his finger. “This isn't fully developed yet.”

“So…you do not hate me?” she asked, needing reassurance. 

“No, West. Never,” he said emotionally, not knowing the day he would. It was she who would come to hate him first. 

“That is not how it sounded like when it came to talking about France.”

“What is it about him that you even like? Frenchies smell. A clean freak like you would die if you knew how little they bathed,” Prussia said, not understanding what appeal that Frenchman had over so many women. 

“He surely washes every other day?” she asked since that was how often she washed her body. “Bathes once a week at the minimum?” 

“Yeah, no,” Prussia said, wanting to laugh. “You'll be lucky if it's once a month. You can barely get them to wash their hands. A lot of them think B.O. is a sign of good health, actually.”

“What?!” she asked, sounding petrified. “But he is not a peasant! He did not smell when we danced!”

“Well, duh. He isn't going to be stinky on an important day. Good thing you wore gloves. Who knows where those hands have been.”

“Oh my,” she murmured. “That is appalling.” 

“So, you still like him knowing that?” Prussia asked, hoping her disgust would instantly kill her crush. 

"No." 

Her answer wasn't convincing when she hugged him tighter and hid her face in his chest. 

"You don't?" 

"No." 

"I warned you. He's not the kind of man you bring home to meet the family. He's fun. But that's all he'll ever be." 

"He was having sex in public!" she said, scandalized. "With a married woman!" 

"Yep. Sounds about right." 

"He is a savage brute," Germany said fiercely. 

"Yep. A complete sleaze," Prussia said. "I bet that made your crush instantly go away, right? You want to crush his smelly balls now don't you?"

"Ah well….what if I can change him?" she asked small.  

Prussia sighed. Oh, his heart ached. 

"No, you can't change him. It's not your job to fix him," he said, not wanting her to think she was responsible for a man's bad choices. "He's been like this for as long as I can remember. Only he can change himself. And he doesn't want to." 

"But maybe that is because he has never had the right person to change for." 

"It's not going to be you," he said, hating to break this to her. "His love died centuries ago." 

"His love?" 

Prussia hummed. "England burned her to death during the Hundred Years War." 

"He loved Joan of Arc?" she asked, surprised. That woman was just a name to her from history. "A human?"

"How dumb, right? But he did. He's never settled down with a woman since then." 

"He is terrible. Manipulating and playing with women's feelings like that then!" she hissed. 

"I told you it would only be you that got hurt. You want a serious man. France isn't that. He probably thought you knew that."

"He led me on." Tears swelled in her eyes. "I hate him," she croaked. 

"It's going to be okay," he said as she cried. Prussia didn't know what it felt like to be so distraught over someone despite how much Germany said he was in love with Hungary. He wasn't in denial about his feelings. It was that there were none. He couldn't be miserable and irritable over someone he didn't love. But Germany...

"No, it is not. I am destined for no one."

“Geeze, a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” 

She gave a little whimper as she tried to hide her tears from him, and he immediately realized he messed up. 

"It'll be alright. I promise. Plenty of sausage to choose from out there!” he said, panicking.

"Stop saying that!" she cried. 

He smiled. "Who knows if all that sausage is straight. Can't guarantee you that." 

"Great. I actually have a smelly, old fruit bowl in front of me instead."

"There are good men out there. There are. You just have to keep looking," he said to cheer her up. 

"You actually approve of me seeing someone? You ripped me away from Mr. Vargas for whatever reason.”

“Mr. Vargas?” Prussia asked, confused. “Who’s that?” 

Germany looked at him strangely again. “The man on the balcony. Mr. Vargas — the Italian ambassador. Is amnesia common for you when in fits of rage?”

His jaw tightened. Oh, yes.

He remembered now. Him. 

“Is that how he introduced himself?” Prussia asked, never having known his human name.

Italy was dumb. He shouldn’t have exposed himself like that. 

Because, in truth, Prussia hasn’t been able to look at Italy the same since 1806. Not after he lied to Holy Rome for all those years. What Italy had done was unforgivable, and Prussia still remembered the agony Holy Rome had been under when murmuring a prayer for the flames of Hell to come faster upon the deathbed of Westphalia. 

Prussia made no motion to correct her by informing her she danced with the northern representative of The Kingdom of Italy. Perhaps, just as Italy wanted, their meeting would be nothing but ephemeral and fleeting if she believed him to be human. 

“Yes,” she said slowly. “He told me you have spoken before.”

“Yeah, we have. Don’t trust that guy, and you shouldn’t either,” Prussia said firmly. “He might actually be worse than France.”

Her sister's eyes widened in horror. “Worse than France? How? He told me he was a widower — was that not true? Do not tell me he was actually married with children!” 

Widower? Yes, Prussia supposed he was. 

“No, he’s not married, and he doesn’t have kids,” he said to appease her fidgeting and terrified look. “But he’s a liar. And weak. I’ve known him for many years. Excellent businessman. But I hate merchant types.” 

They were too manipulative and emotional and lacking in morals. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” Germany said, relieved. “He said he was a General — was that a lie too? You say he is weak.”

“Not physically, no. We fought together in the wars of independence, so that’s not what I mean. Mentally, he’s weak. He’s prone to vices like drinking, eating, smoking, and flirting. He doesn’t let go easily. If, maybe, at all. He’s also too old for you. Stay away from him. He’s a mess. Whatever he told you, forget about it.” 

“Yes, he is in his forties. It would never work,” Germany said, leaning her head back into his chest. “Was he a good General?” 

“Sure.”

Her eyes went down sadly at the short answer. There was no point in giving her useless information. 

“I truly am destined to be alone,” she murmured pathetically. “Every man I choose is horrible.” 

“I mean, true, but there are better guys out there.”

“Really?” she asked hopefully. 

"It kills me to say yes. But only for men I approve of," he said begrudgingly. 

She sniffed. "And what kind of men are those?" 

"Someone who will never make you cry and protect you with their life. Honest. Faithful. Rich. Strong. A man of God. They'll never be as awesome as me, but they can be a close second. Maybe."

"Those are quite the standards," she said quietly. "So I am not disowned?" 

"No. Don't be stupid. You're my little West," he said, holding her tight, glad to have her home. His dumb mouth had suggested she run away, but he was grateful she had chosen to stay in her room instead of impulsively leaving in the thought she wasn't wanted anymore. He would have a seizure in worry if she left and eloped with a strange man.   

"You're always welcome home." He wiped a tear away from her cheek when he pulled her away. 

She was big. But she wasn't that big yet. 

"It's going to be okay. I promise. Guys are insanely dumb." 

She sniffed. "You included."

"How do you think I know? I learned something new today. Guys are very dumb.” 

Germany smiled. She loved being right. Of course, he was lying for her sake, as he was never dumb. He was amazing. 

“Yes, I suppose that is how you would know,” she said, sounding happier. 

"Come on, it's time for bed. No more tears. We can talk more tomorrow if you want. I'm going to be here in the morning.” 

She nodded and took her arms away from him. He patted her head, his West just so cute. 

He walked away from the bed to leave until her voice stopped him. 

"Oh, and Prussia," she said, playing with her hair. Germany fiddled with her split ends as she glanced at him nervously. "I should probably tell you this before you go."

Prussia stood at the door, waiting. 

"I played a game of cards with Monaco tonight. I gambled. We may or may not owe the Monacan government a million marks," she said, unable to look at him. 

Oh, that's not that bad. A million —  

"A MILLION MARKS?!" 

He clutched onto his head when the realization hit. "What! HOW?!"

Germany kept playing with her hair. "But it is not something to worry over, is it? You are the best brother I could have.”

Well, duh, that was obvious, but what the actual hell? He left her alone for one second, and she gambled?!

"I doubt it will be any problem for you. Because you are so awesome?" she asked, looking at him hopefully with those big blue eyes. 

Prussia rubbed a hand down his face as he dreaded the conversation he had to have tomorrow with the Treasury.

Dear God, she's going to send me to an early grave. 

He almost gave a delirious laugh at the absurdity of it all. Germany had a lot of learning to do before the turn of the century.

But what Prussia hadn't known then was that he, too, was naïve and ignorant of the terrible suffering that awaited them both. If he had known the fate that awaited them, he would have given a bellowing laugh because life back then had been so achingly simple to what would come only decades later. 

He should have known all good things always come to an end.