Chapter 1: Spring 1898
Chapter Text
It is not yet dark outside when German Empire steps out of his study, watching as the French diplomat he had been speaking to for over an hour now walks down the hallway towards a guest chamber.
He stretches. His muscles are sore from a training session the previous day and unused to movement after he sat most of today. Germany swipes his hair from his face, tying it back in a small ponytail that he knows Luise loves.
German Empire walks through the castle, enjoying the rather cool air that is a stark contrast to the stuffiness in his office. By the time he decides to search for his family the sun has sunken significantly and the beams illuminating the hallways are more orange than yellow.
First he checks the library where Prussia usually spends his free time but it is empty. So is the room reserved for Luise's play time once she has finished her lessons for the day.
Germany is not quite as easy to worry as his husband but he can't help when it begins nagging at him as he also searches the bedrooms, garden and kitchen as well dining room.
They are nowhere to be found and something tight clenches at his chest. Germany decides that if he does not find them in the drawing room either, he will send out a search party.
His worries all fade when he pushes the door open. Fear makes way for relief and that makes way for the lingering warmth of happiness.
Prussia and Luise are laying on a couch, both asleep. Their daughter's body is curled into Prussia's and one of his arms is wrapped around her.
There is an open book laying on Prussia's chest, Luise's favourite. It is slowly slipping down and German Empire lifts it off before it can clatter to the ground and wake the two.
However, Prussia still stirs, blinking his eyes open with a small groan. He rubs his right eye, staring up at Germany in confusion before a smile breaks over his features. "Good evening, love," he murmurs, his voice slightly rough from sleep.
"Good evening," German Empire answers just as quietly and kisses Prussia in greeting.
"I thought you still had another meeting."
Germany chuckles. "I did. It just ended. When did you fall asleep?"
Prussia gently shifts Luise's head onto a pillow so he can sit up, adjusting his clothes. "Judging by the sun, maybe three?" he guesses, yawning widely.
"Seems like you needed the rest then," Germany teases as he sits down beside him, ruffling Luise's hair. She makes a soft noise in her sleep but doesn't wake up. "It's nearly six."
"Mhm, we were both tired." Prussia leans his head against Germany's shoulder, smiling wider when the latter pulls him closer.
"You know, she won't sleep through the night because of this?"
"I think, I can live with that."
Chapter Text
It's dark. The moon is hidden behind clouds and the only light in the room comes from the tiny sliver of the stars that twinkle high up in the sky.
Russian Empire is half-asleep. He would be deep down in dream land was it not for one particular factor keeping him awake.
"Can you imagine what would have happened if we had never befriended each other?" Prussia asked in that very moment, as though he had heard Russia's lament.
A soft sound escaped Russia's mouth against his will. He did not want to pay attention to Prussia. If he could pretend to be asleep, maybe the king would grow weary as well. Alas, luck was not on his side and Prussia correctly interpreted the noise as Russian Empire being awake.
And so he continued, "I do not just mean the trajectory of our own lives but of history as is. Would we have become friends? If we had, would we still have become lovers?"
Russia felt Prussia's cheek heat against his arm, which was the only sensation that made this even slightly bearable. He was tired and as much as he loved Prussia, all he wanted at the moment was to sink into the bed and lose himself to unconsciousness.
"Maybe we would be entirely different people now, had we never become friends," Prussia said, undeterred by the fact that Russia was trying, and failing, to tune him out. "Oh, God, imagine I would have turned into someone like Austria."
He shuddered, his hand tightening briefly around Russian Empire's bicep. "Or worse, imagine you had turned into someone like Austria." Now, Prussia nuzzled closer, pressing a kiss against Russia's collarbone.
"Is that fate or is that coincidence? I read a fascinating article recently. It was published anonymously, and it considered the existence of there being a third factor, something outside of fate or coincidence--"
Seeing as none of his other methods had worked thus far, Russian Empire grabbed a pillow and pressed it over Prussia's face. It wasn't nearly strong enough to hurt the other man, who wasn't even fighting against it other than huffing softly and rolling onto his stomach.
A few moments later, Russian Empire lifted the pillow again, trying to meet Prussia's eye. It was hard, given the fact that the clouds had not migrated much, but they managed it.
When Prussia opened his mouth, Russia kissed him. Nothing sensual, just a sweet kiss to make him shut up.
"I love you," Russia murmured, his eyes slipping shut again, "I love you incredibly much, in fact. However, I'll reconsider if you don't let me sleep anytime soon."
Prussia pouted. Russian Empire couldn't see it but it was audible when the king spoke next, "I can't sleep."
Another grumble left Russia's lips. "You can go to your library and get a book. I don't mind if you light some candles. Be quiet." Prussia didn't move and Russian Empire opened one eye to glance at him. "What is it?"
"The discussion," Prussia answered, his voice now much quieter than it had been just moments ago.
"At a reasonable hour and when I'm more awake."
Satisfied, Prussia slipped out of bed and out of the room. Russian Empire did not hear him return, did not notice him reading through half of the night and then finally cuddling up to the tsar an hour before sunrise. He noticed none of it because the moment the door clicked shut, Russia was fast asleep.
Chapter Text
Prussia has been restless all day, a swirl of bees having taken hold of his being and demanding he do something against the terrible act of... well, what? It's not like he has ventured from his routine. If anything, this day is as routine as they could get.
Work, training, a short pleasure ride through town, more work, combing through his wings for loose feathers and making them tidy. And yet, the itch of anxiety has settled deep down below and he cannot quite tell what to make of himself.
Of course, constant scrutiny is part of his life. Not merely from himself but from his subjects, servants, guards, and the other countries. A need to perform to the best of his abilities and often beyond even the scope of those. Ever in the chase of finding perfection where there is none.
But the feeling is somehow tripled today, having followed him from the moment he has woken up until now, nearly night with how low the sun has fallen over the horizon.
He feels strangely like... falling apart? As if he is made of patches that only hold on through thin stitches of yarn, insides so full they are welling up until there is nothing holding them. Those spots, metaphorical as they are, feel tender and there is the distinct urge behind Prussia's eyes, a tell-tale sign like he is about to cry.
It's then that Prussia squares his shoulders and leaves his post behind. The emotions, so heavy they almost drag him down, are interspersed with an aching loneliness he has forgotten one can even feel.
German Empire is easy enough to find, in his office, though he seems to have put his work aside for the moment. He looks up, slightly startled, when Prussia pushes the door open without knocking.
"Good evening," he greets, a smile on his lip and a question in his tone. "I hadn't quite expected to see you so soon."
Christ. And isn't that just utterly depressing. Prussia tries not to feel too guilty, clearly it hasn't been said in a mean spirit. He simply stands in front of Germany's desk, unsure of what he expected from coming here but also unwilling to leave when the sight of his husband comes with the first deep, calming breath he has managed in hours.
"Prussia? Are you wel-?"
"Hug me," Prussia interrupts, the words spoken so quickly they barely seem coherent, and he marvels at the sheer truth he can hear in them. A truth not truly revealed but yet noticed. He tacks on a haphazard "please" at the end, trying to quell the realisation of how desperate he must appear.
Germany, of course, pays no heed to Prussia's unspoken insecurities, rising from his chair and rounding the table with a speed that almost shocks Prussia.
A moment later, there is not much room in his thoughts for anything besides the pleasant reminder that he is warm, safe, and in good hands. Germany's arms are around his waist and shoulder, the pressure just right, neither loose nor stifling, and for the first time in weeks, Prussia feels like he is one whole person who belongs, truly belongs, somewhere.
He sighs softly as he slumps like a puppet with its strings cut, letting German Empire support the majority of his weight, which the other man takes in stride. It's so... so good. Unequivocally good, as if the strength of the hug expels every anxiety and bad thought from Prussia's body until he is nothing but the pure feeling of the moment.
Of course, this is when the tears prick at the corner of his eyes, pushing out and down his cheeks the longer he is held and reminded of the safety he is surrounded by. Prussia cannot bring himself to feel shame for it, even as a sob comes forward and tumbles between them like a confession.
German Empire caresses his nape, and, impossibly, Prussia melts even more, a bundle of pure relief in his husband's arms. "It's alright, I'm here," Germany murmurs into his hair, pulling him closer, providing more warmth. Prussia trembles as he burrows closer, trying to minimise the distance between them. "You're safe, I've got you."
Chapter 4: 24th October 1895
Notes:
This chapter includes discussion of the events in Bone Marrow and Dried Skin, a past suicide attempt and ongoing suicidal ideation; please do not read this if you believe it will trigger you
Chapter Text
The date shouldn't have left such a poor taste in Prussia's mouth (blood and tendons, a hint of skin), not after all the violence he has been subject to through his own choices and the ones of his friends, allies, and rulers. But it does. He walks around with a queasy feeling in his stomach, picks at his food, and then pushes the plate away after three bites.
He hadn't eaten meat for a month in 1795, and every body of water had seemed a bit too inviting. Prussia had not attempted to kill himself again after that first time in a garrison just outside Warsaw, but the thought had been there at the back of his mind. A comforting reminder, if nothing else.
German Empire picks up on his lethargy before the church bell tolls for noon, his eyes heavy – not with accusation but with concern. The difference doesn't come to Prussia, though, it feels too much. An itch he cannot possibly scratch, no matter how valiantly he tries. He doesn't try to stop Prussia from going about his day, but it's there, the itch, the heaviness.
It comes to a surprise to Prussia when she approaches Germany barely an hour later. The pressure – implicit as it was – getting too much to ignore without causing more problems than facing it head-on. Prussia is a soldier, a warrior, above all else, even though she has added onto that list of titles until people have forgotten this about her. She can face a foe – even, or especially, if said foe is just a conversation with her husband she'd rather not be subject to.
She knocks on Germany's office and tries not to be too obvious in her impatience. The guards eye Prussia with twin expressions of intrigue and the disinterested sort of interest that makes her want to gag. He opens barely half a minute later (she counted; unus, zwei, tri; Latin, German, Russian; the habit is hard to break on a day like this), and does his best to try how his eyes widen.
"Follow me," Prussia requests, in the least urgent voice she can manage, turns on her heel and tries her very best to not look like she is running from this.
Germany – and God, how did she deserve such a man? – does just that, keeping pace with Prussia without forcing her to talk about what she is bothered by. He knows, as much as she is being difficult right now, Prussia will talk.
Prussia keeps his steps brisk, a metronome that keeps his heart from sprinting and his mind from spiralling. He knows, roughly, what he wishes to say but he is unsure whether he can stick to the script he has. They reach the drawing room, empty this week from all sorts of visitors and therefore what Prussia's mind can only describe as 'neutral ground'.
And that feels unfair, towards both himself and Germany, because Germany is not the enemy, and neither is Prussia – not now, not right this moment. Their wedding vows may have been a sham two decades ago but they stick to them now and that means Prussia's demons are their fight, together.
"I tried to drown myself," Prussia says only moments after they're both seated, throwing the only attempts at good communication out of the window right out of the gate. German Empire, bless him, has the courtesy – and shock – not to interrupt. "Not now! Last century."
And, yes, Prussia can admit silently that this is in no way good harm reduction. Germany seems to need a few minutes to come to terms with the revelation and Prussia, unsure where to go from here, does not say more. "I'm... grateful you told me," he starts hesitantly, reaching out to offer Prussia his hand. Prussia takes it, knowing this is for both of them. "I'm sure it's a sensitive topic. No one knows aside from me?"
Prussia nods, then shakes her head, then shrugs. Upon meeting Germany's gaze, she explains, "I think Brandenburg may have come to some conclusions. Russia might know. But I haven't told either of them and this is not what we talked about when..." Which is when her voice dies. 100 years and for some reason, this day rears its head from the mountain of awful memories she has collected over her life.
"Alright," Germany accepts without pushing for more. He gently tugs at Prussia's arm and she shuffles closer, until her thigh presses into his. "Then, would you be comfortable telling me what happened?" His voice is quiet, a little rough from where his own emotions peak through, and just the right amount of encouraging.
"Do you remember when I told you about the Partitions of Poland?" Germany nods. "It was then. The final day of battle, exactly hundred years ago. We gathered in Warsaw and I killed Poland. She... there are..." Prussia breathes, tries to blink away the moisture that has gathered in her eyes. "Things happened. Before. Eons ago, by now. I killed her by..." She shakes her head roughly. "Doesn't matter. I tried to drown myself, back in my room. Russia came in."
Germany blinks, eyes unbelievably soft when Prussia gets himself to look at them. He raises his other hand and cups Prussia's face, his thumb wiping the tears from his cheek. He leans forward until their foreheads rest together and that is exactly the type of strength Prussia needs to steel himself and keep talking.
"I was so.. disgusted with myself, and seeing her there, hearing her speak, I couldn't bear... Everything just boiled over. I've wanted to die a lot of times but that was the last time I tried and a part of me..." His voice hitches and when he looks through his bleary eye at Germany, he can see him crying too. Fuck, neither of them deserves the next words except for the simple fact that they are true. "A part of me always wishes I had succeeded."
This tears a noise from Germany, despaired and agonised, and his grip on Prussia's hand tightens almost painfully. "Prussia–"
"I know," Prussia interrupts and squeezes back. "I know, and I'm sorry. I should've..." He trails off. What, pray tell, should he have done?
"You incorrigible fool," German Empire mutters. "Can I kiss you? And in turn, you'll hear me out?" Prussia nods mutely, allows the kiss to wash over him, allows himself the feelings of love and joy that bloom from his chest. "I'm glad you didn't die, and I am glad you told me. I wish for you not to leave me in our time either, and if I could make one request of you: tell me. Anything. Go to me when your chest aches and you feel lost, when you wish to die or when you wish that you already did. Will you do that?"
"I'll try."
"That's all I ask." And then, Germany pulls him impossibly closer into a tight embrace. It's an uncomfortable position with Prussia half on the couch and half in Germany's lap, his head turned at an awkward angle to press into Germany's shoulder as they're both seized by tears, but he wouldn't have it any other way.
Anzel_Anselm on Chapter 2 Sat 06 Dec 2025 04:34AM UTC
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Anzel_Anselm on Chapter 4 Sat 06 Dec 2025 04:37AM UTC
Last Edited Sat 06 Dec 2025 04:37AM UTC
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Anzel_Anselm on Chapter 4 Mon 08 Dec 2025 10:36AM UTC
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