Chapter Text
1942
The sun shone through the enormous windows of the room brightly, the metal cigarette holder reflecting a blinding white line while the illuminating the tiny specks of dust in the room like small fairies danced in the light.
He wiped his high-heeled boots with higher soles, which were especially made for him to look much higher than normally. The sunrays shone on the black, shiny material of the boots too, making them glow.
Walking over to the large mirror, he adjusted the black uniform and tightened the black belt.
On his arm was a red material with a white circle on it and a swastika inside.
However, if the marking on the uniform wasn't enough, he wore this strange flag on his face also.
Silently, like the darkest night of a new moon, he put a black officer hat on his head, which was decorated with a metal eagle, an imperial eagle. After some minute, he pulled away and tried to erase every remaining emotions from his expression, even the shy glint of life in his red eyes. He could not allow anyone to notice any emotion on his face, or find out his thoughts.
A small breath of rebellious deparation took over his mind for a passing second- he look awfully monstrous and evil. His flag flaming, as his almost glowing eyes, and the stylish black uniform- he seemed like the representation of the doom and death...
But he was truly just a countryhuman- a representative entity who should have symbolise the country and its people, but therefore, he was also the perfect tool of the politicians...
If he was told that from tomorrow his favorite color would be blue, then he was only allowed to nod. He could never express an opinion, especially not on the current political party, or dare to complain about the system.
If he was told to stand in front of thousands of his people and lie, he had to do it. He had to do everything they told him, from killing without a blink, to worshiping the current leader as if he were a living god. And this was even more true since a new ruling party won, and his name was no longer the Weimar Republic, but the Third Reich, and his flag was not black, red, gold anymore, but red with a white circle and black swastika in the middle... They turned him into a weapon of roguery and illusion...
They knew what the were doing- to convince him to cooperate the most wicked way possible was ridiculously evil and simple: they tortured him, which he after all- could have endured, but... the also blackmailed him, finding the smallest spark of care he showed towards something, then they rubbed their palms and threatened to perish it if he didn't do as they told.
He took out the speech, which was written on a crumpled piece of paper, and read it over again to memorize it.
A quiet, gentle knock, however, disturbed him in the middle of his practice. The small and hesitant knock on the door of his room was almost as if the one who was standing on the other side, were terribly afraid. Which was a good thing- they should be very much afraid of him!
He folded the paper back into his pocket, straightened the sleeves of his military shirt so that it wouldn't be wrinkled anywhere, and then, he looked in the mirror for a fleeting moment to see if everything was perfect on him.
His face reflected complete disinterest perfectly, although he wasn't bored, he had an expression more like that of a psychopath who doesn't feel anything and isn't afraid to take any horrid actions. His red eyes gave him a sharp and inscrutable look, which was only enhanced by the brim of the hat, which shaded his face and made his eyes glow.
A terrifying, abnormally wide smile appeared on his face, showing all his bright, needle-pointed teeth, giving him a demonic, horristic appearance.
Straightened, he walked to the door and opened it, looking upwards, expecting an SS guard - or perhaps a house manager, his grin radiating danger and inhumanity.
However, he could see anyone... He raised his eyebrow almost invisible and annoyed, leaning a bit outside to see if someone was playing a deadly trick with him, just when he heard a sniffle- he turned his gaze down.
At the foot of the door stood a child in a stylish, fascist uniform, looking at him in fear. He was also a countryhuman, but still very small, 3 years old maybe, and his flag black, red, and gold, almost like Reich's former flag had been. On his head, he wore huge glasses that were as thick as the bottom of a glass bottle. Black, small, sometimes fluffy feathered wings were hidden behind his back and slightly bent down in a melancholic and sorrowful angle as he looked up at Reich afraid and shyly, tears falling from his eyes rapidly.
"Deutschland..." (Germany) Third Reich said in surprise, but his voice was like that of the dead: colourless, emotionless, and uninterested. He immediately dropped his cold smile and bent down to the crying country, putting his hand on his small, chubby upper arms.
"I can't tie t-them..." Germany cried softly and pointed to his brightly polished boots, on which the laces were tied in double knots and non-existent curves, just not as they normally should have been.
Reich looked at the boots and the deparate child. Quietly and softly, he took his tiny hand and led him into his room. He picked the country up and sat him down on the leather sofa in the office room.
He untied the short boots with great difficulty, then took hold of the two laces and began to lace them again with infinite patience.
He didn't say anything to the smaller one but held on to silence as it was his habit. He didn't really talk when he didn't have to. Talking was the time when he had to hold speeches, and those words he had to say were just enough and meaningless to make him even more silent than ever before in his life.
"Where is Mrs. Hidle?" asked Reich after a long silence to get the sniffling smaller German to speak, who, unlike him, could jabber about anything, even if it didn't make any sense. So if he was quiet, something must have been wrong.
The Hilde, he asked about, was a German woman, a housekeeper among many, but the only one he had given permission to go near Germany. This woman was supposed to put the shoes on Germany, but for some reason that obviously hadn't happen.
"I dunno. Morning I saw a man go up to her, and I heard him tell Hilde to come home to her friend because people would get her. The man wanted to hit me badly when he saw that I was listening, but Hilde wouldn't let him kick me. But then Hilde told me that I can't tell anyone." he said the gibberish sentence in his chirping voice very softly. "Hilde said that no one can know this because then her friend will die and she can't come here anymore to help me."
Reich quickly tied his shoelaces and looked at Germany sharply, his gaze cutting into the air like a knife. His pupils narrowed as the bright sunlight shone through the curtains and illuminated his face. His hands were clenched into tight, deadly fists.
"That man, who was here with Hilde, didn't touch you or hit you, Deutschland. Right?" He asked with horrifying calmness and the promise of impending death in his voice.
Germany looked up at Reich then lethargically lowered his head, watching his small hands.
"No...?" he whispered uncertainly, then peeked at Reich's dark gaze for a second. The obvious lie visibly put its heavy weight on the smaller countryhuman's shoulder and let him confused, sad from guilt. Being a child still, he reached out to Third and tried to disappear in his arms as he hugged him.
Reich's frown softened as much as it could, and he embraced the tiny country who started to cry.
"Germany...." he whispered quietly, pulling him a little bit away from his chest to see his chubby, rosy expression. "Did he hurt you?" he asked slowly, again.
The small German hesitated for a while before he pointed to his right arm shyly.
"But it does not hurt, Papa..." he sniffed, searching Reich's darkened face.
He carefully pulled up Germany's sleeves from his right arm, and what he saw immediately made his blood boil in fury, his mind fogged by hate and so much anger that he thought he would get up right in that moment and find that man, torturing him to death.
On Germany's soft skin was a bruise, darkened marks showed where the man had grabbed his lower arm with a ridiculously powerful grip.
"It does not hurt..." Germany whispered again, a few teardrops sliding down his cheeks as he stared at the silently furious, frozen Reich.
"It does not hurt YET, Germany..." he growled, his piercing eyes snapping to Germany's big, glassy eyes. "How did that man look like?"
Germany pouted and locked his lips, not saying anything. Just the clock clicked in every second as the hand danced its infinite and monotone circle-dance.
"Okay then, my son." he said calmly. He would find the man without description, too. "Now come on, they are surely waiting for us." he said, taking Germany's tiny hand and helping him get off the high bed.
"Papa... Will Hilde come back here?" He mumbled under his breath weakly as he released Reich's hand and hopped when he arrived to the door step.
He did not answer that question. It was obvious that the woman probably died, or will probably have to die, and the man- oh, he will kill him with his bare hands...
"Come. " he said much more softly, shaking all the non-existent emotions in his voice, but still, it seemed as if he was speaking to a soldier, not a child. He took his hand again and led him to the entrance door.
In the hallway, he put on the little cap, which was similar to his, only in a child's style and without an imperial badge. However, as he put the cap on, he noticed that on Germany's puffy face - the tears were silently rolling down like rivers. His reddish golden eyes glinted perhaps with some, as yet inexplicable anger, but mostly with grief, which emotions filled him so much that they burst out like tears.
"What's wrong..?" Reich asked really quietly in slight panic as he kneeled before him. Was he grieving the woman, maybe? Yes, he had not much time to spend with Germany, and the small kid probably took the woman into his lonely heart as if she were his mother... Maybe, maybe Germany knew very well that the woman died..?
He took out a handkerchief, wiping Germany's face and nose, which were glistening with shiny tears.
"I-I... I don't want to go... Please, dad..." sniffed the smaller German, gripping his uniform as if he was his only remained hope in that miserable life.
Reich pursed his lips and stared at him in deep pity.
"We have to go, Germany. The Führer is waiting for us..." He whispered and picked him up, brushing Germany 's small feathers on his wings so they would look nice and neat. Germany's wings were so precious, and he felt the most confident statement- that someday he would grow up and look very imperial and majestic with them, however, yet they were just fluffy, cute.
By the way, he did not wonder why Germany didn't want to go to the führer; he usually had to stay with the officers or with their wives, hardly having the opportunity to play or meet other kids except the officer's selfish, spoiled, and mean children, who most of the time- hurt him, ignored him, or - as they had done many times already- tore out some of his black feathers, making his wings miss feathers in places...
He softly combed his black hair too, where there were also some almost invisible, fluffy black feathers. He admired Germany's beautiful features: his red eyes that mixed with golden colour, and the soft, adorable lines of his face. He reached out and adjusted Germany's thick glasses, which made his eyes even more outstanding. If only the government would see him like this too, but the Führer and his confidants really did not like Germany...
In their eyes, he was weak, soft-hearted, and these glasses were absolutely awful and radiated his weakness. His features did not show a perfect picture of the future of the country. And not to mention- recently he had seizures and questionable state; when he talked to himself, his voice almost doubled... It was unknown to him what was the problem with Germany, but he feared greatly for him. He couldn't imagine what the government would do if they knew of his recent problems...
His eyes blankly stared into the distance as he pulled the smaller to his chest slowly, unconsciously protecting him from the invisble yet very much present enemies...
"Dad..?" he heard Germany whisper, making him blink and break out of his thoughts.
How much time had passed, he didn't know, and didn't realise how long he had been staring at Germany, lost in sorrowful thoughts. If only... If only they could live as ordinary people, away from the deadly grip of the government, spending their lives unnoticed and peacefully....
With heavy heart, he tore his gaze away from him and unlocked the door, stepping out. Forcing himself, he replaced his frown with that ear to ear creepy smile, his teeth shining dangerously, his gaze unreadable, and terrifyingly calm.
On the other side of the door, two SS soldiers were already waiting for them, both of them visibly shook from fear as they saw him. One of them stared at him in horror as he was holding that child country, he seemed like he was taking his soul away, he almost felt pity for the child and disgusting fear towards the Reich.
"Heil, Deutsches Reich!" they said in unison, saluting and lifting their hands.
He just nodded and made his way to a black car...