The avatar of France took his duties seriously, particularly those that related to being the nation of love. This meant more than merely demonstrating love in all its forms to anyone willing: he also kept track of all the relationships of his fellow avatars.

Not the one night stands and casual encounters that were inevitable among their kind, but the serious relationships, whether treaty-bound or personal. In the old days, he'd only been able to keep up with the European avatars, but with modern computers, and Hungary and Japan's all-too-eager assistance, he knew who loved whom, often before the lovers themselves.

The others called it gossip or worse, but France knew better: there needed to be more love among his kind, and the long years of mostly-peace since the end of the last great war were his opportunity to build relationships by gently nudging compatible avatars together. They might not have a direct effect on their people, but the strongest emotions did set up a kind of resonance between avatar and people.

Though he himself had not given his heart since the day he had lost his beloved Jeanne, he strove to love as much as he could, and to give the love of a father, a brother, a friend to any who would take it. All of which led him to the streets of Vienna, wondering at his own sanity.

He had no business with Austria: he was trying to discover why it was that of all the avatars Prussia remained essentially alone. The many times he, Spain, and Prussia went drinking, Spain would return to his "tomato", and France himself usually found some lonely soul to cheer, but Prussia drank and laughed, and did nothing more.

He hadn't taken any partners in the group marriage of the European Union, and France couldn't find a single avatar who would admit to any kind of relationship with Prussia. Even Belarus had her rather odd companionship with – of all people – Moldova, but for Prussia? He and Germany worked together, then Prussia sat back while Germany courted his Italy.

With no one willing to tell him where Prussia's heart lay these days, and knowing that asking Prussia himself was worse than useless, France had taken to following the man, something he'd quickly discovered was far more complicated than it seemed. There was no part of Europe Prussia didn't visit often, and worse, he usually traveled by the other realms.

France hated that: the subconscious fears of humanity took such horrific, twisted forms, and their hunger brought his own worst fears to mind. He used the other realms only when no other option remained, something he knew most of the others did as well.

Prussia though... he seemed to treat them as a mere short-cut.

"France? To what do I owe the... pleasure?" Austria's tone implied this was anything but pleasurable for him.

France sighed under his breath, and turned a little so he could speak to the other man without losing sight of the small church – another mystery there: Prussia was possibly the most profane person France knew – Prussia had entered. "I apologize for disturbing your peace, my friend." He kept his voice calm, soothing. "I was seeking Prussia, and was led here."

Austria blinked. For a moment, a bare moment, the supercilious disapproval he wore like armor was replaced by shock, then Austria's lips curved upwards in something that had far too little warmth to be called a smile. "Prussia. I see." He nodded to France. "Come. And be quiet." And turned and walked towards the church.

France blinked, following him across the busy street. He had the oddest feeling as he entered the church that he was crossing into another's lands. Which in the middle of Austria's heart should not be possible.

It was an old church, Gothic in style, with light streaming in through the stained glass windows. White-robed monks knelt in the pews, and the service was led by a white-robed priest with his head bowed. Then the priest spoke and France's mouth fell open. That was Prussia's voice. Prussia's battle-roughened baritone given extra power by the high arches, the soaring open spaces. Prussia reciting the liturgy in... Dear God was he actually speaking Latin?

France shivered, acutely aware that he hadn't been inside a church to pray since his revolution. It had seemed pointless, when his people were slaughtering each other with such wanton abandon. And yet, the old forms, the service that had changed so little, it spoke to him in ways he hadn't expected, reminding him that there was love and forgiveness here, too.

Prussia lifted his head, revealing his face. The familiar harsh lines of the warrior, those red eyes that seemed to echo centuries of war, all were oddly calm, at peace. He didn't falter in the liturgy, but there was a silent message in the way his gaze met theirs. France wasn't sure what that message was: his mind seemed to have frozen.

Austria understood: he gave a slow nod, then guided France from the church, then to a narrow lane that led to a courtyard which France thought must be on the other side of the church. From there, he was led into another part of what seemed to be all part of the same complex, to a modest-sized refectory.

Only then did Austria speak. "This is the guest house of the Order. He will join us here when he is done."

France blinked. Swallowed. "But... why is...?" He couldn't seem to frame the question.

Austria's small, condescending smile still held warmth. "Fool. He never ceased to be the Order. You know that."

Oh. France remembered how Prussia had, more than once, referred to himself as the former Kingdom of Prussia, but he had never used the word 'former' when talking about the Teutonic Knights.

"This is the seat of the German Order," Austria said in a low voice. "Formerly known as the Order of Brothers of the German House of Saint Mary in Jerusalem. Also known as the Teutonic Knights." His smile softened a little. "The Order may be much reduced from its height, but it remains."

There was something here, France thought, something that gentled even Austria's nature. Perhaps it was simply that humans had worshiped at this place for centuries: he had noticed that places tended to retain some character of their use.

Perhaps that was why Europe remained such a fractious place even now: there was not an inch of soil that had not been watered with the blood of countless battles. Even Switzerland's long neutrality had been preceded by numerous wars.

He and Austria remained quiet for a long time, until at last footsteps echoed from the polished wooden floor and he looked up to see Prussia approaching, though a Prussia France had not seen before, white-robed, with the cross of the Order on his white mantle.

France stood to greet him. "Pr -"

Prussia raised a hand. "Not here." His voice was oddly gentle, calm. "Here, I am the Order."

That made no sense to France: how could anyone be only a part of himself? But Austria seemed comfortable with the notion, if the way he bowed was any indication.

Prussia returned the bow. "Welcome, brothers." His tone said this was a formal greeting, an avatar acknowledging visitors to his soil.

But this was Austria's land, wasn't it?

France let Austria do the formal responses, his mind spinning as he tried to grasp a reality that seemed beyond impossible.

Prussia seated himself with more grace than France would have credited him for: usually his fellow avatar's movements were all controlled power, brutal efficiency. Not graceful.

"So, France." Prussia's red eyes danced with amusement. "What brings you to the Order?"

France sighed. There was no escaping it now: he was going to have to humiliate himself in front of two men who would take a great deal of pleasure in his suffering. "I was concerned by your isolation, my friend, and wished to know you had others you could turn to."

Prussia chuckled softly: not his irritating hiss-snicker, but a gentler sound, one aimed more at himself. "You will have to content yourself with this, old friend." He indicated the clerical collar he wore.

The implications – all the implications – struck France with the force of a bomb. "My God." Crossing himself was a gesture of reflex, one he hadn't lost despite the efforts of his rulers during the revolution years. "Fully ordained..." His mouth was dry, suddenly. "What have we done?"

It might be a rule honored more in the breach but all of the avatars stressed honoring the vows of the clergy. One did not take a nun as spoils of war, nor a priest or a monk. But Prussia had lost many battles, many wars – as many as he had won, though France had no intention of trying to determine whether the balance tilted to loss or victory.

Prussia only shrugged. "It's part of what we are, France." He made an odd gesture with his right hand, one France couldn't interpret. "Besides, I have Papal dispensation for that."

France blinked when Austria handed him a glass of water. He sipped, swallowed. "But... a priest..."

Prussia's response came with another of those low chuckles. "France, really. What did you think the avatar of a religious order would be?"

Austria sounded amused in his supercilious way when he said, "You might as well tell him all of it, German Order."

The title sounded odd to France, who had never really known Prussia in his Teutonic Knights days. He was certain that the 'all' Austria referred to would be even more unnerving than the knowledge that Prussia – crass, barbaric, brutal warrior that he was – was a priest.

"And that, my bespectacled friend, is why I say you have a cruel streak wider than the Danube," Prussia said in a dry voice.

"He was here spying on you."

France could have strangled Austria for the primness of that comment. As if Austria had never spied on his fellow avatars. As if Austria took no pleasure in Hungary's collection of incriminating photos and videos when France knew very well he did. Admitting that would require admitting that he spied on the man, though, so there was very little he could say about it.

Prussia only smiled. "This is France. You might as well expect me to be unhappy about France flirting with me."

France had thought Prussia was oblivious to that. He swallowed and gulped some more water.

"Still..." Prussia spread his hands. "It might save hassle later."

France could only stare at the man he'd thought he knew, waiting for whatever revelation Prussia chose to make.

"I was elevated to Cardinal at the height of the Order's power," Prussia said simply. "That rank has never been rescinded."

The notion that Prussia – Prussia! - was eligible for the papacy was too much for France. The room wavered in front of him, then faded altogether.

#

When France woke, he lay on a bed, with someone seated beside him. He heard only breathing: his and the other person's. Scent, though, that was different. Prussia's scent, the tang of blood and steel that never left the man, overlaid with a faint hint of incense.

The Eiffel Tower stirred, and France reminded himself that Prussia was now and forever off-limits.

"How very French." Prussia's voice, low and amused.

"What... what happened?" France opened his eyes.

"You fainted." As always, Prussia didn't mince words. "I brought you to my place."

France started to sit, only to be pushed back to the bed – albeit gently. "But..."

"Lie down, fuzz-face." Prussia shook his head. "You know damn well your vital regions are safe from me."

France raised an eyebrow. "Alsace-Lorraine?"

Prussia waggled his left hand. "Bismark's choice. Not mine. I'd have negotiated for Alsace, and left Lorraine with you." He shrugged. "But then, he was for Germany, not Prussia."

France turned his head to see a little more of the room. It had been converted from the basement of the old manor, but was a cozy place with warm burgundy walls – Prussia's old flags looked stunning hanging against that backdrop – and recessed lighting which he supposed Prussia kept at a level he preferred. The weapons on the walls were to be expected: Prussia's weapons were as much a part of him as his hands.

"You don't resent that?" he asked.

"When I worked my awesome arse off to make it happen?" Prussia laughed his hiss-snicker. "Never."

"It left you with..." France paused, not quite sure how to say that Prussia lived in a kind of twilight, not precisely human but no longer truly one of his kind anymore.

"It left me with Germany." Prussia's tone left no room for argument. He smiled then, sharp and predatory. "Now, let's talk about your little gossip chase, hm?"

France groaned. "I suppose there's no way to convince you to let that go?"

"Me?" Prussia's smile became the grin that always meant trouble. "Since when do I let go of anything with strategic potential?"

"That's why you brought me here, isn't it?" France wasn't asking, not really.

He got a low chuckle in reply. "Not entirely. But close enough. Now spill."

"About what, specifically?" France had played this game many times, being interrogated by captors and verbally dancing away from their demands. Prussia had been his opponent more than once.

A white eyebrow rose a little, and Prussia inclined his head, acknowledging the game. "Tch, if I want your entire life story, I'll get it." The expected threat was calm enough to tell France he wasn't likely to win by irritating the other avatar. "We'll start with your little gossip sessions with Hungary and Japan, and where I fit into that."

France hadn't expected Prussia to go straight to the heart of things, or to know about his... not exactly alliance, but not too far off it. "It is for the emotional health of all of us," he protested, knowing that Prussia wouldn't believe a word of it. "It is not good for us to be without love."

The eyebrow rose a little further. "The pictures and videos that find their way to the Internet have nothing to do with this, I'm sure." That was very dry.

It took more self-control than France would have thought to keep from wincing. "I am no voyeur, my friend." He made sure to sound hurt that Prussia would think such a thing of him. "I merely wish to see all my friends find the joys of l'amour."

Prussia's slight frown told him that slipping from the mother-tongue to French was not a good idea. "Matchmaking, in other words."

France pouted, exaggerating the expression to make himself look foolish to Prussia. "Love should never be forced," he said. "But if I bring two compatible people together and they find love, is that so terrible?"

He didn't expect Prussia to fold his arms and glare at him. "None of your nonsense." His tone was flat, cold. "You poke those long fingers of yours into too many places where they don't belong. It will hurt you."

That wasn't – quite – a threat, but France still found himself shivering. "Now, Prussia, you know I have your welfare at heart."

Prussia held up a hand for silence, and France couldn't seem to speak. He wondered how the man could do this to him, control his reactions so easily... but then Prussia felt different, both stronger and darker than he usually did, as though he had been concealing his strength – something France knew Prussia both could and would do if he thought there was a need.

Something too cynical to be truly a smile curved Prussia's mouth. "You wanted the dirt on any relationships I might have, correct." He wasn't asking.

France could only nod. He scrambled to sit, wondering how what had started as a simple quest to uncover the reasons that no one would admit to a relationship with Prussia had turned into this, with Prussia beside him as dangerous as he'd ever been – no, more dangerous, because Prussia had learned restraint and subtlety and no longer let every flicker of emotion show on his face.

Where the other avatar had always controlled his strength and his love of violence, directing both into the proper channel of war, before his dissolution and the long years he'd spent as East Germany Prussia had been easy to read, and in a way, predictable.

That was no longer the case, but France had no doubts that Prussia still sought power and conquest as he always had. The need to conquer ran deep in all their kind, but it was deepest in Prussia who had been made for conquest, a warrior from birth.

The question was what conquest Prussia had turned his formidable strategic expertise towards, and that was a question France would prefer was never answered. He doubted he would like the answer: while the other avatar was, in his way, an honorable man, he was not a kind or a merciful one. As the avatar of a land with no natural borders, he could afford neither.

"Well?" Prussia studied him with his head tilted, birdlike – only unlike the little yellow puffball, Prussia was more of a bird of prey.

France gestured ruefully. "I merely sought evidence that you were not without companionship, my friend," he said. "I admit I did not expect what I found."

The snort Prussia gave was followed by an emphatic chirp from Prussia's bird. Prussia reached up and gently scratched the bird's head, seemingly without realizing it was there.

Prussia's refusal to speak seemed to force France to continue. "It concerns me, your isolation," he said, choosing his words with care. If he simply said he thought Prussia was lonely, he'd get an angry denial. Only by carefully teasing his way to the topic would he find the truth.

The other avatar shrugged. "I'm what I am, France." A quick grin that didn't light his eyes. "Just because my awesomeness is too much for the rest of you dolts to handle."

France pouted. "I would have thought us beyond that kind of posturing."

Prussia's expression was too calm, too controlled. He was hiding something.

If France knew the other at all – and after the number of wars they'd fought, sometimes as allies, sometimes as enemies, he was certain he knew Prussia quite well indeed – it was something where Prussia believed he had the upper hand. There weren't many candidates for that these days: the European Union meant that relationships between the nations of Europe were for the most part peaceful.

Germany was the strongest of the nations in that union, of course, his economy too strong to be ruined by the incorporation of the near-bankrupt East Germany – not that France would ever mention that to Prussia, who'd had no choice in how the nation had been run – and still strong despite the ongoing recession that never quite seemed to lift and left most of the avatars with persistent coughs and sore throats. But Germany was no longer the fierce, driven warrior of the two great wars: he was quieter, calmer, a force for peace and order, and France knew very well that even though technically he was no longer bound by the provisions of his occupation – and hadn't been since he'd reunified with his brother – the German military remained a much smaller force than it had been, and their culture no longer glorified war.

Yet... France could not dismiss the uneasy sense that he was missing something, that Prussia – who thrived on war and battle and was never more alive than when he was in the thick of conflict – was engineering some unpleasant surprise with the patience which had shocked the world when he'd revealed his whole East Germany charade. No, that wasn't right – the patience he'd shown by enduring those years with Russia pretending to be the deferential East Germany wasn't what had shocked them. It was that Prussia had returned as powerful as he'd ever been, despite his nation being dissolved, despite everything.

France suspected some of his fellow avatars would deny Prussia was capable of the patience required to pretend to be something else for forty years, despite the evidence they'd all seen.

Prussia himself had for the most part kept a low profile since then, seemingly doing nothing but drinking – he certainly did plenty of that, if not with France and Spain, then with England, or America, or any number of others – and making a nuisance of himself.

And yet... France remembered the way the brothers had chosen to share their custodianship of their nation, with Germany the public face and internal affairs, and Prussia the military and international matters. While France himself had been the driving force between the precursor to the union, Germany had been a partner from the start, and Germany now guided the union. Germany... or Prussia?

"You've been playing us all along, haven't you?" he asked, heedless of the possible consequences.

Prussia's slow smile, and the gleam in his red eyes, told France he had guessed correctly. "I told you more than sixty years ago that you'd pay for trying to destroy me." The sharpness there, the malice was terrifying. "I'm willing to wait as long as it takes."

France nodded slowly. "You rule the Union," he said.

"Hardly." That was very dry. "I simply offer policy guidance."

France knew that tone. "You know I tried to stop it," he said. "The dissolution, I mean. And giving you to Russia."

Prussia nodded. "I know. I'm not quite the monster you take me for." Another of those sharp smiles. "I simply refuse to throw myself off a cliff with the rest of you."

France blinked. No matter how he framed it, he could make no sense of that.

Prussia's hissing snicker was intended to mock, this time. "Ah, France. How many people in your lands are no longer yours, hm? How many of them do your gendarmes fear to touch?"

France stiffened. "And you have none of this?"

Prussia chuckled. "Oh, we have them here, too." His eyes gleamed. "But we remember what it is to be under another's boot a little more directly than you, France. Our Ossies won't stand for a new Stasi, whether it be Communist or religious."

If it came to civil war, Prussia would be in the thick of it, a pale demon with outdated weapons, bringing death wherever he went.

To distract himself from that vision – particularly since Prussia had made it clear he was forever off the menu – France said lightly, "I should think there would be some who would welcome a return to the old days."

Prussia snorted. "Only if they're in charge." He leaned back against the wall, arms behind his head. The change of posture made his tee shirt stretch tight across his chest.

France swallowed in a mouth gone dry. Damn Prussia for teasing him like this. "My dear Prussia, do not that sort always find ways to be in charge?"

The answer was given with Prussia's sharp-edged grin, the one that said someone would regret something, and regret it dearly. The one that had once sent all the European nations racing to fortify their borders. "I'm not letting that happen again." The glint in Prussia's red eyes wasn't entirely laughter, and it wasn't entirely madness either. "No matter what the cost, it will not happen again. Not here."

Visions of the revolution, the Terror, rose in France's mind, and he struggled to suppress a shudder as he stared at the other man, eyes gone wide. "You... would kill your own children?" France would have cursed the way his voice shook, except that his mind seemed frozen. For an avatar to kill those he represented, the people he existed to protect... It led to madness.

Prussia only said. "If I must." His hiss-snicker seemed to echo in the room.

God have mercy, France thought. Had he known this was the result of trying to learn who Prussia loved he would never have started that fool's quest. He was almost – almost – tempted to abandon his database altogether. But no, he was the nation of love. He could not abandon those poor souls in need of his aid.

He would just have to make sure Prussia was removed from the list. And drink so much this whole unnerving day was blotted from his memory, because he knew with all his soul that if Prussia ever returned to waging war, if he used his knowledge of the European Union, it would cease to be a union and become an empire. One ruled by Prussia.