Second Chances

Prussia has had many little brothers over the long stretch of his life. Most of them stayed that way: little. Names blur together in his memory into one long word that he doesn't remember all the letters to. Even back in his hey-day as an empire (he just wasn't blatantly obvious about it like France and England were), he couldn't for the life of him remember everyone's name.

What was the point, if the small territories were destined to disappear quickly some day? Their lives, as fleeting as a human's, didn't last long when the Germanic territories were shifting and changing borders, too restless to settle down.

Which was why, when the child was old enough, Prussia did notice Holy Roman Empire. Probably because the little brat had easily taken over his other brothers and Prussia was the last to go before Holy Rome turned his attention to the south. Not that Prussia was complaining too much about that last bit; if Hungary was a part of the Holy Roman Empire, it meant that Prussia could see her more often.

But Lord, Holy Rome was such a little tyrant.

Prussia resolved to himself to be the biggest pain in Holy Rome's ass that day.

But it wasn't until that the two of them were on the battlefield (after Prussia's superiors forced them too, 'Teach him how to fight, Prussia!' and Prussia almost threw a fit until his boss intervened), that Prussia realized that perhaps the kid had a chance of living past the usual lifespan for a territory. The kid, although he only came up to Prussia's knees, acted as though he was the king of the world while in Prussia's and the troops' presences, but Prussia found (quite by accident) that the kid had a softer side hiding underneath the bravado.

The kid had been scared.

He had seen how his brothers had disappeared to time, their names turning to dust and disappearing in the winds of time. Holy Rome hadn't wanted to disappear like that.

So he fought.

Somehow, the more time Prussia took into getting to know this brother more, the more the little brat wormed his way into the Prussian's heart. He wasn't quite cutthroat yet, but if he ever hoped to become a great empire, Prussia would have to fix that.

During a campaign, Holy Rome had stumbled across a fallen bird's nest, all of the chicks gone except one. It was cheeping pathetically as Holy Rome carefully picked it up and smuggled it back to camp. Prussia would have not known about the bird if it hadn't somehow snuck out of Holy Rome's tent and into his. When Prussia found it all snuggled up in his blankets, he'd had half a mind to go to Holy Rome and chew him out for it. But then it began cheeping in weak protest, and Prussia was once again horribly reminded of the brothers he'd never met before their time was up.

The two had an unspoken agreement never to talk about the bird that was nestled in Prussia's inner coat pocket. Just for the sake of saving face in front of the troops.

As the bird grew, Prussia would be delighted to find that it had been a young eaglet, and it became a large black eagle that took to the skies ahead of the troops as the harbinger of death.

Prussia loved that.

But the day soon came that Holy Rome was summoned to Vienna for business. Prussia had forgotten that his little bruder was also a growing empire. So he left the troops in the firm hands of a subordinate in order to travel to Vienna with Holy Rome. He wanted to be with his little brother a little longer...but he also wanted to raise more hell for the pompous Austria and reunite with Hungary.

Poor Holy Rome. Prussia should have warned him about the bad blood between Prussia and Austria.

But if he did, Holy Rome would not have asserted his authority like he did. Like he was supposed to.

The boy looked absolutely confused and slightly startled at first when Prussia startled heckling Austria the minute the house was in sight. Austria predictably managed to restrain his temper long enough to welcome Holy Rome to Vienna before flying into a rage when Prussia happily tracked mud into the foyer and went through his 'How To Piss Austria Off' list, casually checking items off.

That was the first time Prussia became acquainted with Hungary's frying pan. Definitely not the last time either.

The soft-hearted child that Prussia had come to love disappeared that afternoon and a young empire took his place. Both Austria and Prussia were chewed out thoroughly before Prussia wisely took his leave. But Holy Rome saw him to the gate, and the two brothers briefly clasped hands before Prussia left. Prussia took this opportunity to press a small, wrapped gift into Holy Rome's hand.

Then he turned and left.

His last memory of his little bruder was of a small form watching until distance swallowed Holy Rome up from view.

Prussia pressed forward.

His eagle, still nameless, became his flag. Prussia sometimes envied the freedom the bird possessed, and tried to recreate that when tweaking his personal flag's design. The eagle, no matter where Prussia went, always returned to him at the end of the day, much to the Prussian's delight. It became less of a pet and more of a second companion, seeing as Prussia was bereft of his brother at his side.

At this point, England was becoming more and more ambitious, and Prussian authorities suspected it was only a matter of time that the English would turn their imperial gazes at Europe. So when there were rumors of a colonial rebellion, confirmed when France approached him for aid, Prussia leapt at the chance to stick it to the English bastard.

And stick it to him did they ever.

America turned out to be a good kid, a little brainless sometimes, but good nonetheless. It was refreshing after the usual routines in Europe. Which was probably why Prussia stuck around even after the American troops were trained under the pretense that he didn't quite feel that the Americans were fully ready.

But seeing the raw pain at the Treaty of Versailles, when England refused to acknowledge the American, Prussia was silently grateful that he and Holy Rome would never go through that. Yet, when he still made accidental eye contact with England, the Englishman silently told Prussia that he would one day regret aiding America.

It was a letter from Austria that drew Prussia out of his own lands once again. The Austrian expressed concern that France's new boss, one that rose from the ashes of the French monarchy, had ambitions to challenge the Holy Roman Empire. Driven out of concern for his brother's safety, Prussia returned to Vienna in the dead of night. The two arrived to the conclusion that it was probably for the best that Holy Rome leave to defend his borders. Prussia left the next morning to prepare.

When Holy Rome finally joined him on the battlefield, he was surprised to find that his little brother hadn't grown height-wise very much in the hundreds of years they were apart. But the two still managed to fall back into their familiar routines, the black eagle soaring above and Holy Rome still wearing the Iron Cross, the gift that Prussia had left him all those years ago. But the child was not quite the person Prussia remembered; he was little more subdued than Prussia remembered last. That and the kid was more stubborn and determined to do things his way, rather than Prussia's. Prussia approved; Holy Rome was finally playing the part of the empire.

The melancholia however seemed to fade as Holy Rome and Prussia led the troops into victory after victory against new territories and the occasional French. Prussia encouraged his brother's bloodlust; there was no other way to expand and more importantly, protect the Holy Roman Empire.

The night before the fateful battle against Napoleon himself, Prussia and Holy Rome were together, finishing the battle plans and strategies. Holy Rome had grown, and was at Prussia's shoulder now. Still, Prussia still sensed that there was something amiss; his brother missed someone back in Austria's house, he realized. 'A little girl in a green dress', Holy Rome admitted.

It took Prussia a few minutes to figure that one out. He'd thought the only girl in the house was Hungary. But then he remembered Austria mentioning an Italian girl that was the personification of Northern Italy.

He told Holy Rome to go back to her once he won against Napoleon and France. Holy Rome said he would, that he had a promise to fulfill.

The next day was a blur of activity. Even in the present day, Prussia doesn't quite remember any of it. He just remembers the flash of sheer blinding panic when he'd picked himself up off the battlefield and had been climbing back onto his horse when he saw Holy Rome, the headstrong and stubborn Holy Rome, charging the French nation on horseback. France, recognizing the empire, turned his own horse to meet the challenge head on, in a twisted form of a joust but with two swords instead of lances.

Prussia was already screaming seconds before the two combatants collided.

Because no matter how much Holy Rome had grown or learned in such a short time, he was no match for a nation that had been learning and growing for his entire life.

The next few seconds flew by too slowly. Holy Rome disappeared from sight as Prussia focused solely on driving France away long enough to collect his brother. The Frenchman seemed to sense him coming, and disappeared right as Prussia arrived.

Holy Rome's horse was wandered off lazily as Prussia jumped down to the bloody mud, tears blurring his vision as he knelt down to Holy Rome's side. A stray hope crossed his mind, that Holy Rome would start recovering since the empire itself was still strong.

But the blood kept coming. It wouldn't stop. It wouldn't stop.

Cradling Holy Rome against his body, Prussia gently scooped his brother up into his arms, the eagle soaring overhead. The boy's white uniform was stained red, scarlet, dark and spreading. Prussia walked off the battlefield himself, carrying his brother while the eagle flew ahead to alert the troops to retreat, to set up camp. He whispered to his brother, clutching onto the faint hope that Holy Rome would recover, that Holy Rome would fucking respond to his words even if it was just to tell him to shut the hell up. Like he always did when Prussia talked too much.

He didn't even remember arriving to the camp. Just that a soldier tried to take Holy Rome from him and received a kick to the shin for his efforts.

Then the messenger arrived with the news a couple days later, sealing Holy Rome's fate. The Holy Roman Empire was to be dissolved; the emperor had abdicated his throne and was going to form a new empire between the sovereignties of Austria and Hungary. All Prussia could do was stare at the prone form of his little brother and realize that he was actually going to die.

While this was sinking slowly into his brain, a soldier had arrived; a bloodstained Iron Cross had been found on the battlefield by two Prussian stragglers. They'd recognized it as Holy Rome's, and thought to bring it back to Prussia.

His brother was dying.

For the first time, Prussia wished that things were different. That he had perhaps eased up on Holy Rome's education enough so that Holy Rome would have at least thought, hesitated long enough for Prussia to intervene before he challenged France.

Yet...

The thought almost passed too quickly for Prussia to catch. He had land, didn't he? He had plenty of Germanic lands. He came out of his stupor long enough to stare at Holy Rome's pale face. If...if he could sacrifice a part of his lands for his brother, and if perhaps Holy Rome identified as something German...there would be less risk of him disappearing altogether...

Prussia acted on the thought. Hesitantly leaving Holy Rome in the care of a trusted subordinate, he headed to his capitol, to his leader. Pleaded for his brother's life. His leader finally agreed, naming the new territory as the North German Confederation, and Prussia returned to his brother to find the boy sitting outside the tent, small once again and confused as to who Prussia was. Prussia silently renamed his own brother as 'Germany'; to keep a permanent tie to the identification 'German'. As long as there were Germans, his brother would stay.

He was careful this time. The boy's memory was completely gone, but that didn't mean he couldn't learn. Prussia taught Germany as best he could without letting anyone else on the European continent knowing of his existence. He especially did not want France to learn of this, did not want to know if France would try to finish what he started. England had been right; America's successful rebellion had encouraged the French to have their revolution, which in turn brought about the rise of Napoleon.

Prussia didn't tell anyone, save one, about Germany.

Austria had been surprised to learn that the Germanic boy had survived. He agreed to keep Prussia's secret, and complied when Prussia asked for the name of the Italian that Holy Rome had loved. As it turned out, Holy Rome (and Austria for that matter) had made an error on the Italian's gender; she was really a he, and he was named Veneziano. He was still the personification of Northern Italy.

And hell if Prussia wasn't going to help Germany keep his promise to the Italian. Even if Germany didn't remember making it in the first place.

He waited until Germany was older, when he was strong and steady, to introduce him to the world in his formal title as the German Empire. That night, at the reception after the declaration, Prussia had approached his brother, and congratulated him while pressing a small wrapped object into his brother's hand.

If Germany recognized the Iron Cross, he didn't react.

Then Prussia did one last favor to his brother that night. He made an offhand remark about the heir to the great Roman Empire still being alive, the entity known as Veneziano. He purposefully didn't mention Romano; Spain would have murdered him, and possibly Germany, for threatening his little tomato like that.

But, Prussia added, think of the advantages of having such a powerful ally like a descendant of Rome.

He had to hold back his laughter when he heard a few days later that Germany had left on a journey to find the descendent of Rome. So. Predictable.

His eagle remained with him while the years proceeded forward as they always did. Only three souls knew of Germany's past now, and two weren't going to talk and the third couldn't. The eagle seemed to fade as well, gradually growing smaller and smaller until Prussia feared the worst.

But the damn bird was as stubborn as he was. Even when the nation of Prussia was formally dissolved thanks to Germany's stupid boss, the bird still hung on with Prussia. Only it was a fluffy, yellow, harmless chick now. Harmless, like Prussia.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

He couldn't begrudge Germany for the whole dissolving thing, especially when Germany made the extra effort to save Prussia's life after the Iron Curtain came up. Granted, it did put Prussia in an awkward position with creepy Russia, but he carried on like he always did.

A life for a life. The two brothers were far from even, but Prussia made an effort to continue protecting his brother, even when Germany refused it.

He owed his little bruder that much.

A/N: Brain dump from Tumblr. There's a companion fic that goes with this, but I don't know if I'll post that here. The companion fic, if anyone is interested, is called Kingdom Where No One Dies and is still on Tumblr. It was two a.m. when I started it and as a result, it may not be as edited (on Tumblr) as this one. I cleaned this one up a bit before posting it here. Historical accuracy is a semi-correct. Hetalia Axis Powers and all related media belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.