English isn't my first language, not even second or third. So I'm pretty sure there are some mistakes, sorry. This is written because I love brotherly relationships! Have fun!


There was a time when I felt lost. I was surrounded by people, yet nobody could fill the gap in my heart. People, who tried to console me. But after several attempts, they had given up on me like they had on you. We were both a lost case. It didn't surprise me, I wanted to be left alone, dwelling in the past where everything was somewhat normal.

You and I, we had not even hundred years full of memories to share. My world was shaking when our father disappeared but you had shattered my world by leaving me. I wanted my brother back so bad. Was that too much to ask for?

They didn't understand my pain, they've never lost something so valuable like my elder brother. He witnessed and mourned the downfall of Saxony, Brandenburg, Germania and Holy Rome Empire.

It was by no means fair to him… to me. He was always so cocky and sometimes overconfident but that didn't mean that he couldn't be serious – back then no one believed him that he could raise a mere child with his high and mighty attitude. They wanted to take me forcefully away from my only family to raise me 'better than the dolt' but he was way stronger than he seemed.

He made me to the man I've become. A man which learned and adapted most of his country's virtues. They had become my lands stereotypes: efficiency, austerity and discipline - to name but a few.

They had blamed me for the one of the greatest wars in history, nobody – not even my friends – stood up for me. Why should they? They had their weak and young scapegoat and it was my brother who brought my spirit up. That didn't mean that we were responsible of the outcome of my population's despair. We couldn't control what the head of state did with the world.

Yet they gave my brother the blame, saying that his military influence was the foundation stone of the World War II with the justification "Prussia isn't a state which has an army but an army which possess a state."*. Did it hurt when they said it in your face – you, still battered from the aftermath of the war and the situation in your country? I was pretty sure that it was France who told you that. Even if it hurt, your face was like always: blank.

You just gave them a vacant stare, already giving in. Why didn't you defend yourself like always, with your witty comebacks and your typical grin on your face? It wasn't like you and that scared me spitless.

Did you know that I'd yet forgiven them? How so? I'm still crying on every February 25, counting the years we could have spent together but lost them. I wanted to see the world burn in ashes. If they had thought that both World Wars were a disaster of humanity then they would be surprised what I'd thought of. Veneziano had his brother Romano, Norway had his little brother Iceland, not forgetting the Asian family - even America had his twin albeit Canada tended to turn invisible to his own brother.

They visited me often to lessen my pain – meaning that they could understand it but certainly couldn't - but it wouldn't go until my brother appeared before my very eyes, with all limbs on him, the mischievous red eyes and with his trademark smirk on his pale, thin lips. They had kept my brother back from me and I should never forgive them. They weren't better than my brother and me, they had their own share of murders and mistakes yet they laid the blame on him.

He was a dead man anyway, they tried to convince themselves.

He might be a dead man walking but it didn't justify their action. His screams at the time when he was dissolved were dreadful and sent cold shivers down our spins. No one knew how painful and torturous this process was until now. They should be ashamed of themselves but they had suppressed their memories of his existence and their inhumanity. It's funny, humans were the most despicable creatures on earth and they were even calling themselves as parasites (most of them).

And we nations?

We thought we were above them with our glorious victories, our authority and force. We were just pawns, little chess figures which were doomed to fall one by one. This time the knight had to bite the dust. The knight was too far away from the king but always in reach. Now no more.

It was one of the rare moments of peace, when I received pleasant company. Wounds weren't closed, scars still omnipresent, but time went on and didn't wait for anyone to heal properly. Every time the visitor chose to pay a visit, we would just sit on a chess table playing a game of chess. I would always choose black, letting my guest begin. My opponent would never talk during a game, just smiling knowingly at my stoic face, looking as if he had a secret behind those big doe eyes. The smile itself wasn't a happy one, on the contrary. His smile was an apologetic one, one of full despair and yet modest.

A kind person who had respect for his opponent and didn't want misery upon him. A pacifist, pressured to carry someone else's war to its conclusion. It wasn't fair for him, it wasn't fair for me and it wasn't fair to the chess figures which had to take every command.

He took my figures piece by piece but he also lost all his pawns. I had just my king, queen, knight and bishop left while he had his own king, queen and bishop – unlike me he had also his rock and knight dangerously near my figures. First my queen was taken due to a careless fault.

I wanted to win so desperately, it wasn't just a game for me but so much more – so I've tried. My bishop was also gone but also his queen. Nevertheless, I didn't stand a chance of winning. His chess figures – even the king – were surrounding my knight, taking him agonizing from the chessboard, letting his king alone. He took the only barrier between my king and the foe.

"Checkmate."

I clenched my hands to a fist and hit the chessboard, hard enough that the tiny little figures made of plastic flew around the room, making no noise because of the white fuzzy carpet.

"Why do you let me relive these day again and again?" My guest just shook with head, letting out a knowing and concerned sigh.

"You can't blame Alfred, Arthur, Francis and Ivan for what they've done, Ludwig. I've loved him too. I can't forget him and he won't be forgotten. I just want you to understand, even if you think that they are the one to blame – they were controlled by their presidents and what not. And Gilbert did something every good brother would do for their siblings. He died with pride, aware that you're old enough to stand on your own feet."

My steel blue eyes roam to his eyes, looking for nothing. "I've had my brother not even for two centuries…"

"Contrary to popular belief he was no warrior. He was a knight and his duty was to shield you from every damage possible. It's an older brother thing, we wouldn't understand it." A smile crossed his slight feminine shaped face. I was standing up, receiving a puzzled look, and before I've understood what I was about to do I was circling his slender form with my strong arms.

I wasn't alone, I wasn't the only one mourning. But at least he tried to cope with it, being strong for his lover's brother. I didn't feel godforsaken anymore. The silent lover of his brother recovered quickly from his shock and emulated my deeds.

"Danke, dass ich das nicht alleine durchstehen muss, Matthew." (Thanks that I don't have to endure this alone, Matthew)

"Il n'y a pas de quoi. N'oublie jamais qu'il a fait tout cela juste pour toi." (You're welcome. Never forget that he has done all this just for you)

He was right. Gilbert was no warrior. He had honour, holding his virtues no matter what. He was just an older brother who tried to shield his little inexperienced brother from consequences.

He was a knight who defended his king to the last breath but first he was a brother.


Matthew's chess figures represent:

King: America
Queen: China
Bishop: France
Knight: Great Britain and Northen Ireland
Rock: Russia

Ludwigs chess figures represent:

King: Germany
Queen: North Italy
Bishop: Japan
Knight: Prussia

*Quote from Céleste Stoffel