Author's note: Tumblr prompt (pretzelofdarkness) in honor of German Unity Date: « What about Prussia remembering the first time he met little Germany? Big brother feels would be lovely. » I went instead with Prussia finding Germany and raising him because I've wanted to write that for a while.

Three Emperors and a Brother

Gilbert roams the battlefield days after the fighting has stopped, not quite sure what he's looking for. He remembers being a knight, remembers setting up hospitals and treating the wounded; he remembers when he swore he'd never become like the others, a seeker of blood and power, and yet here he stands. The dead surround him, the French were going to demand everything of Austria in the next treaty, and those Habsburgs couldn't do a damn thing about it. Soon after Prussia would rise up and take from the French what was rightfully theirs and the fighting would start anew.

A cold December wind blows as he imagines it, finally possessing nearly everything Gilbert has ever wanted, and yet he still feels empty, as if he remained nothing. From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust: that was all he was, ashes and dust. Perhaps he'd never done a damn thing worthy of this world.

Sighing deeply and looking out over the field, the Prussian says a silent prayer before turning to go back to his horse; he'd have to report on what he had seen and what to expect if (but more likely when) Prussia will go to challenge France. Something in the distance catches his attention and though Gilbert might never recall what it was, whether a sight or a sound or just a gut feeling, he veers off-course to go find whatever it had been.

The boy looks small, maybe ten at most. He lays face-down in the dirt, a deadman's arm over him as if protecting him, and Gilbert's first reaction is to step away. He's no desire to disturb the dead until they're taken to be buried but then the boy moves, just a little, groaning quietly.

When he carefully rolls the boy over, Gilbert Beilschmidt immediately senses that this one was like him.

Looking around to make sure no one would see them, the Prussian lifts the boy with all the strength he has, carrying him quickly to his horse. The boy falls unconscious again as the horse starts the frantic gallop away but Gilbert doesn't worry; if he had survived the battle, he would survive the war, whoever this familiar boy was.

The pale thing rests in his room back in Potsdam, Gilbert up most nights anyway working or else being distracted by his pretty mistress.

"Who is he?" the young woman asks at the door one day, the Prussian having just checked on the boy. Ushering her out of the room and down the hall to a sunny courtyard, Gilbert answers her.

"Dunno exactly, but he's like me, I'm sure of that."

"Should you have left him to the French?" the woman asks. "They were the victors, after all: is this boy not then Bonnefoy's?"

"No," Gilbert cuts in more angrily than he had intended. The woman only looks at him with big eyes and he has to count to ten before he can speak again. "No," he repeats more quietly. "No, there's something about him that– it's hard to explain. There's something there though, like he is of my blood. Like he's… he's…."

"Your brother?" his mistress supplies. "You once had many."

"Most are dead now," the Prussian laments. "The rest will die soon enough, that I blame myself and Roderich for. But this one is my brother, I know he must be. And I swear to you now, I will not let anyone take another of my brothers from me, least of all my stuck-up cousin." The woman smiles at the force of his words.

"Then what shall you call your new brother, Liebling?"

Ludwig pouts at the door as Gilbert readies his horse. "Why can't I come Brother?" he asks in that high-pitched voice of his. "I can help you!"

"You can help me," the Prussian replies slightly out of breath, coming back to the door, "by being the man of the house while I'm gone. We have our womenfolk to protect." Gilbert kisses his mistress, then her sister's cheek, then the mother's, before ruffling his young brother's hair. "There are only two things in life more important than women, Lutz, don't forget that."

"Oh?" his mistress teases. "What are they then?"

"God," Gilbert pronounces, "and family." His hand falls from the small German's shoulder, and with that the Prussian nation sets out for Vienna.

He must have fallen asleep at his desk, waking with a crick in his neck and someone moving his arm. Blinking a few times Gilbert realizes that the eleven-year-old he knew must be the German Confederation was attempting to put the Prussian arm around his small German shoulders.

"Lutz, what are you doing?"

"Carrying you to bed," the boy says forcefully and so Gilbert plays along, stumbling as far as the couch in his study before collapsing on it. The boy standing beside him watches for a while before asking, "Are you ill?"

"No," the older brother replies. "No, I don't think so, just tired is all. Are you ill? The Confederation, you know, is falling apart."

Ludwig shrugs. "I've always felt ill, you know that Brother."

Gilbert reaches out to stroke one of the boy's cheeks, smiling weakly. "I will not let you die, Lutz. I will you make you an empire even stronger and mightier than me."

"Really?" Gilbert nods. "But– but if I become stronger than you, what will happen to Prussia?"

"We'll figure it out, Lutz," the older brother reassures him. "I'm finally doing something worthy for this world and no one's gonna stop us. So let me worry about the details, and you just keep growing and making me proud, got it?"

"Yes Brother."

The fourteen-year-old in his smart suit with slicked back hair fidgets. "What's wrong?" Gilbert asks without looking down.

"I've never met anyone else like us," Ludwig says depressingly. "What if they hate me?"

"So what if they hate you, that's their problem."

"What if they attack me?"

"I'll defend you if they attack you, which they won't."

"What if they decide they don't want there to be a German Empire and it's all my fault?"

"They won't, Lutz, you're just panicking now."

"What if they decide they want to marry me?" At that Gilbert looks down, eyebrows drawn together, and laughs at the expression of disgust on his brother's face.

"Don't worry Lutz, I'm sure they're all sick of getting married, especially since most of them suffered through unions with Roderich."

"Were you ever in a union?" Ludwig asks, looking up. "Did you ever get married?"

"I almost did," Gilbert replies quietly, "once."

"What happened?" The Prussian smiles best he can as the doors are opened to allow them entry.

"She married someone else."

For Ludwig's fifteenth birthday they go out into the Czech countryside, stuck in Austria for the week with the ever-sufferable Roderich; at least his cousin's companions were quite pretty. Before Gilbert even realizes it, his mind on one particular Hungarian beauty, he's unconsciously taken his brother to the battleground where he'd found him over half a century earlier.

"What is this place?" Ludwig asks quietly, riding his white horse ahead. "I feel a connection to it; how is that possible?"

And with that Gilbert decides that it's time to be honest: about finding Ludwig, about not telling anyone, about the politics he shielded him from, about all the brothers before him that the Prussian had had to watch die. Now his own nation, Ludwig was a man and Gilbert knew he had to treat him as such. Ludwig was the greatest thing Gilbert had ever done with his life and for a Prussian who believed each life had a sacred duty, Ludwig was it.

"Brother?" The German is looking away from him and for just a moment Gilbert recognizes the little boy he found, laying face-down in the dirt. A boy who was once weak, but that he had made strong.

"Let me tell you," the Prussian starts in a strong voice, "a story, of how three emperors helped give way to my brother, the empire."