Entitled: That Disjointed Front
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: Prussia/Hungary
Dedication: Secret Santa for languicious. Happy shipping!
Notes: I was going to make this funny but then I actually did some research and that plan sort of died. Next time, I promise! Anyways, it should be noted that Hungary is always referred to a girl in this piece, except for the very opening segment, because I'm not totally sure when her gender-revelation happens.

Hungary, 1211:

"You'll be living with me now," Hungary said, arms crossed and legs braced, voice projected to command. The little boy fidgeted, grinning.

"'Cause you need my help," he said smugly. Hungary shoved him, grimacing.

"Because it's a problem too inconsequential to warrant my attention."

"Ungarn," the little boy laughed, "Ungarn, you'll always need me."

Hungary pulled on his bangs, making him look down and squeal, little hands jerking at Hungary's wrist. "Just do as I say, alright?"

"Can I kill them?" the little boy smiled, burning in his white robes. Hungary shrugged.

"It's your land, now. It's mine, too. Protect it."

Hungary, 1225:

The little one set her hands on her hips. There was a smudge of dirt along the tip of her nose. She glowered most fiercely, "You need to get out of my house now."

The Teutonic knight had a brief moment of panic. "You can't kick me out."

Her glower intensified.

"I mean," he amended immediately, "If you get attacked again, your military will be nonexistent and you'll die because I'll be gone and then you'll come running to me for help and I'll laugh."

She snorted, "This isn't your country. It's mine. I'm not sharing with anyone."

"Well, too bad," the boy said—and he scoffed, for he might have been younger than she, but he was still taller and stronger, "Because I don't want to leave."

"This is exactly the problem!" she snapped, stalking towards him, "You never do what I tell you to!"

"Why would I do that?"

Her cheeks colored, "Because I want you to!" she shrieked, face pinched and stubborn. "But you don't so now you can't stay here anymore."

The boy gripped her wrist, "I said, I'm not leaving."

"Fine," she snapped, and lunged upon him.

Austria paused. There was someone sniveling by the side of the road. The sunlight glinted off the tall boy's platinum hair, making his face still blotchier. Austria edged closer. As an afterthought, he bent and picked up an impressively hefty stick. It seemed like a good idea.

A better idea would have been waiting for Switzerland.

"What's wrong with you?" Austria asked from a safe distance. The pale boy jerked, wet face glistening before his features contorted and he leapt to his feet. There was a bite mark across his cheek that puckered red when he sniffed.

"Stupid Ungarn," he snapped, and crooked his finger at Austria, "Hey, c'mere."

Austria clung to his stick and edged away. Warning violins thundered into his mind, and he blinked.

"What'd she do?"

"That," the larger boy huffed, "That arschloch kicked me out."

"Is that why you're crying?"

"I'm not crying!" the knight snarled, and threw himself towards Austria. Austria turned and fled, heels kicking up awkwardly as he ran. He didn't get very far, and the air flew from his lungs as the knight crashed into his back.

"Get off!"

"How's the mud?" the other boy laughed, moving to sit, pinning Austria in place with only his own weight.

"My clothes are expensive," Austira snarled, "Not that I expect you to understand refinement, you brute."

"She thinks—" Austria abruptly realized that the knight had likely completely forgotten his existence, "She thinks that just because she's a country to she can order me around. Well, screw her."

"Ungarn!" Prussia leaned over the border line, "Hey! If you don't get over here I'm taking your capital!"

"You can try," Hungary said, leaping nimbly from the thick trees. Her eyes were the same deep green he remembered. Prussia leered at her.

"I'm a country now. I've got a name."

"So?" she laughed, "Only a name. All I see is a bunch of morons running all over the place, thinking they can beat me."

"I could!"

She smiled mockingly, chest puffed out with confidence, "What do you want, Prussia? An allegiance?"

Prussia scoffed with an overabundance of bravado, "With you? Please. I don't need an allegiance. I'm too awesome for allies. And I certainly don't want one with you—"

"Good," Hungary interrupted, "Because I've made allies with Poland, and there's not much room for you."

"YOU WHAT?" Prussia screeched. Hungary grinned, a dimple indenting one cheek, and she strode off into her forest, laughing happily.

"HEY!" Prussia yelled, "HEY!"

Poland, 1226:

"Oh my god," Poland stared at his borders in disgust, "You faggot."

Prussia gloated, as was the privilege of the awesome and victorious.

"Seriously," Poland spun on him, "This is like, majorly uncool. Get out of my house."

"Nope." Prussia said, beaming. Poland glared. His blond hair fluttered back tastefully yet dramatically.

"Oh," Poland sneered, "It is so on."

"You don't scare me," Prussia cackled, applauding as his men set fire to Poland's crops for no particular reason other than the pleasure of burning things. Poland screeched.

"Not the crops you loser!Oh, shit! That is it," Poland finished with a snarl, and head butted Prussia in the stomach. Prussia flopped over in bewilderment, and Poland zoomed away.

This was getting to be a bit predictable. Austria peered at Prussia suspiciously, noting the numerous wounds running the boy's frame. He didn't look fit to move, much less hurt anything.

In a fit of inspiration, Austria zipped nearer, and gave Prussia's head a little kick. The younger boy moaned, his eyes cracking open to glare.

"Someday, I will make you very, very sorry you did that," he growled. Austria fluffed up smugly.

"Shall you?"

"Yeah," Prussia muttered, "Five hundred years from now? It's go time."

"We shall see," Austria fought the urge to flee, "Why are you a failed heap?"

"Freaking Poland," Prussia said through his teeth. He sat up, flinching, and rubbed what looked like a badly dislocated shoulder, "And Ungarn. Didn't see her, though. Probably didn't want to ruin my face."

"Poland? The one who wears dresses?"

Prussia shot Austria an extremely nasty look. Austria failed to conceal his glee. He stepped back, though, when Prussia got slowly to his feet, grimacing.

"Why did you attack him, again?"

"He annoyed me."

Austria snorted. Prussia summoned the energy to smack the frumpy child's shins. Austria commenced his strategic retreat.

Hungary, 1410:

"So, I hear Poland left you for Lithuania."

"So, I hear they kicked your ass."

Prussia fumed. Hungary smiled behind a delicate hand. It was one of the more infuriating gestures she'd picked up on after she decided to be a girl. Probably learned it from Austria, given how much time they'd been spending together lately.

"Not for long," he boasted, leaping to his feet and upsetting his teacup. It crashed to the floor. Hungary's expression suggested it would be a kindness to have him put down.

"I look forward to your next encounter very much," she smiled wickedly, reclining into her chair. Prussia sat down quickly and ate three of the pastries she'd set out.

"Just wait," he threatened, accompanied by a spray of crumbs. Then, "So, are you and Poland not talking anymore? Given that he stabbed you in the back and left you and. Other stuff."

"Of course we do," Hungary's eyes gleamed, "I fully support his relationship with Lithuania."

Prussia fidgeted.

Hungary, 1466:

"He stole my pants!" Prussia screamed. Hungary spun and brained him without a second thought, crashing the tall young man into her kitchen wall. After a moment, her pounding heart calmed, and her grip loosened on her iron skillet. She set it aside warily and checked the floor.

He really had lost his pants.

"Who?"

"Poland," Prussia snarled, slipping his nose back into place and diving into a stream of abusive German. Her eyebrows rose, and she stared at him levelly until he quieted, and flushed.

"Western regions seized, huh?" she asked loftily. She could hear his teeth grinding.

"Yes."

"Hm," she went back to butchering dinner, "Looks like I chose the right ally."

There was a very long silence, until someone yanked hard on the back of her apron, jerking her towards the ground and into Prussia's lean frame. She broke the fall with an elbow to his stomach and jerked hard against his arms, as they pined her to his chest. "What do you want, Prussia?" she asked coldly, turning so that their noses were only a breath apart. His grip tightened.

"Take it back," he said softly. Hungary was silent for a moment, not even breathing, before she smiled, expression hard.

"What would that change?" she asked, and pushed against his chest. He let her go.

Austria, 1526:

Prussia hit the door, and waited a very long time until Poland answered it. The blond rubbed at his mouth, smearing red across his swollen lower lip. "Yeah?"

"Austria got you too?" Prussia smirked, "Not me."

"Whatever. I'm just here to visit," Poland leaned against the door, letting it rock him backwards and forwards, "Are you like, here for any particular reason?"

"Where're the others."

"Austria's out doing someone," Poland rolled his eyes, "You can't see Hungary."

Prussia's hands clapped down on Poland's shoulders so that his thumbs pushed up against Poland's neck. "You think you can stop me?"

"Please," Poland said scathingly, and knocked his hands down with more force than really necessary, "Hungary's my bro. I wouldn't like, ditch her. She's locked in her room. And anyways, she doesn't want to see anyone right now. Not until we can kill Austria."

Prussia rolled out the kinks in his neck, "I betcha I could break that thing down."

"Dude," Poland began shutting the door, "You seriously don't get it."

Austria, 1740:

Austria adjusted his spectacles, staring down his long nose towards the rising dominant German power. "Liberating the Protestants from Maria's Catholic oppression? Really?"

Prussia's grin flashed, "I can always find another reason for doing what I want."

Austria's mouth tightened at the corners, and he stood sharply, delicate hands splayed across the table. They were very thin fingers, showing the lines of bone just below the skin. "You know nothing," he said quietly, "The only thing you have learned is to force your way. But that way is changing. We are changing."

Prussia laughed, gripping the arms of his chair too tightly. It was a damnably ridiculous chair, anyways, all mahogany and curling gold leaves. Something only very important people would sit in. "Is that a challenge?"

"I hardly have a choice," Austria stiffened as he stood once more upright, "She is my empress. I would die for her."

Prussia set his feet upon the table, and in turn, upon the official documents Austria had presented to him. Oh, the paperwork of war. "I guess we'll find out."

The laughter felt hard in his throat, and he strode through the ranks of strong-armed men, grinning upon their conquest. Silesia lay barren before him, and he had an idea to burn every scrap of Austrian art.

Well, he wouldn't. But the thought was still a nice one.

Watching the enemy's departure, though, was even better. Austria was limping, lagging behind the rest of his troops, waving vaguely when England shouted back at him, already nearly to safety. He kept glancing back, one hand pressed to his leg and the other to his brow, staring at his city hungrily. Prussia yelled and drew his sword, led his men pouring in, then staggered as a shot blew past his ear, nicking it, and he felt something rupture. The Prussian army stopped, and just before him, a girl was running, her long brown hair flying, and she looked back only once.

"Ungarn!" Prussia yelled, "Hey, Ungarn, it's me!"

She kept running. Damn her, but she ran, and caught Austria under the arm, supporting him solidly until they'd shambled out of firing sight.

Something in Prussia froze.

Prussia, 1772:

It had been so long that when she came to his door, he wasn't quite sure if she was real or not. But she was imperfect, nose red from the cold and her eyes as swollen as her hair was messy, and he'd no sooner opened the door than she'd pushed her way in.

She ran through the rooms of his house, calling for Poland until he caught her and held her while she struggled and cried and hit his chest. Poland had made him taller. She had never looked so weak.

"He's with Russia," Prussia said, after she'd stopped screaming at him, "And don't you dare make this my fault."

Hungary sagged. After a moment, she scrubbed at her eyes, holding her breath, and straightened. It seemed as though the moment she exhaled, her entire body would blow apart.

Without another word, she walked to the door. Prussia stood, watching it shut behind her.

Seconds passed.

Then he moved. Threw the door open and ran down the track through the half-hearted snow, spun her around and held her in place and just kissed her. He knew she'd never had let him if he'd just asked and more importantly he wanted to. And he was very used to getting what he wanted. What gave her the right to be different?

He'd expected her to hit him. And she did. But for perhaps half a second before that, her fingers snarled in the hair just above his neck and she ground their mouths together. Vicious and beautiful and strong.

He held his stinging check. Bits of snow settled in her hair, turning it to cold silk. "You're right," she said, and stalked away.

Austria, 1849:

"Get out," Austria snapped, the second the maid had showed Prussia into the study. It was dirtier than Prussia remembered. Sheets of music were tacked to the walls and stacked into piles. Messy compositions of portraits and sculptures were overturned, as though someone had struck them down in frustration. Austria's clothes looked a few days old, and his hair stuck up at odd angles.

There was a hot bubble of triumph in Prussia's chest. "I'm better than you," he said smugly. Austria had the look of drunken rage.

"I thought I told you to leave."

"I thought I ignored you," Prussia picked up one of the sheets of music, scanned it, and shredded it absently. There was a scrape against the floor and he slid to the side reflexively, smirking as the inkwell hit the wall with an ugly sound, and sullied the carpet. "Missed me! Vision getting worse? Never seen an empire fall before."

"Be quiet."

"Your house is falling," Prussia taunted, rapping along the walls, "She's going to kill you. You can't keep her. Not for much longer."

Austria's face was flushed with color, and his hands shook. "I'm not done yet," he snarled, "Now get out of my house."

Austria-Hungary, 1867:

It was a wedding made of paper. He only went when it was over, and found her connected to Austria's hand, her hair done up with flowers and absurdities. He stepped closer, and she caught sight of him, glanced at her new husband, and lifted herself onto her toes to murmur something in his ear.

And then she approached. He grabbed her by the elbow and steered her away, walking fast, making her trot to keep pace.

"I thought you said that you'd never share your country," he snarled, voice pitched low. She didn't so much as turn her head, eyes fixed on something imaginary.

"It was the only way," she said steadily, making no efforts to be quiet. Prussia's fingers tightened.

"He enslaved you for centuries," Prussia yelled, "You'd forget that? He isn't your friend, Ungarn! And if you were anything like I remembered, you would never have turned and lifted your skirts for him!"

He wanted her to strike him.

What she did instead was worse. Hungary stopped, and pried his hand from her arm, then caught him by the chin and made him look at her. Her wedding ring was cold against his cheek. "You think this is my surrender? Idiot. I've won."

She smiled prettily and let him go, "You haven't ever understood anything but fighting, have you?"

He watched her go, lifting her skirt daintily so it wouldn't be dirtied by the ground.

"You liar," Prussia said.

Prussia, 1879:

"I don't make allies," Prussia said coldly. Hungary looked better than she had the last time he'd seen her. Her figure had filled out a little, and she stood straighter, her uniform crisp. Her wedding ring was conspicuously absent.

"Russia is moving," she said lightly, "I stand between him and Austria."

Prussia grinned, "What, are you finally here to beg for me?"

"It's not just him. France, too." She cocked her head, "Do you know what they would do to me?" she asked softly.

Prussia stepped out of the doorway, and let her inside. "Why don't you show me?"

Hungary, 1918:

She didn't come to the door when he knocked, so he let himself in, examined the empty picture frames and made his way to her bedroom, to the bed, and climbed atop it. He jumped up and down, shaking the figure huddled beneath the blankets.

"Go away!"

"Ungarn," Prussia said happily, "I've gotten mud all over your carpet." He grabbed the blankets and mussed them, finally giving up altogether and hoisting her out of bed, wrapped as she was. There was a muffled curse. Her head poked out near his stomach. Prussia reoriented her, which he felt was polite and gentlemanly.

"You look awful."

"So do you," she said nastily, "Have you forgotten the dissolution of empires?"

"Later," he promised, then, "There's someone you have to meet."

"Who—"

"Me," Prussia said proudly, and dumped her onto the floor at the feet of a perfect, blond little boy. The boy studied her gravely as she struggled free of her sheets, then he blinked and extended a hand. Hungary froze.

"I am Germany," he said, in practiced Hungarian. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard much already, from my brother."

Prussia watched Hungary hesitate. She glanced at him, then quickly grabbed the boy's hand, as though she were testing its solidity.

"Of course," she pulled the boy forwards and embraced him, and Germany flushed to the roots of his hair, "It's very nice to see you."

"You didn't hug me."

"Prussia," Hungary's teeth ran along the edge of her thumbnail, "That's the Holy Roman Empire."

"He doesn't remember," Prussia shrugged, "He just showed up a few days ago."

They watched the boy together, as he played with the neighbor's dog. He spoke to the creature very sternly, which appeared to have no effect whatsoever, as the dog would periodically leap up and lick at his face. Hungary propped her head on her hands, leaning forwards. She sat closer to him now.

"We need to start over," she said, and gathered her hair back, winding it into a coil.

"You can't," Prussia reminded her, laying a hand just behind her and tilting so that all his weight rested upon it. "You're people are starving."

She grimaced, "I'll be fine. Depressions never last."

"This one will," he said, took one of her hands and uncurled each finger, forcing the muscles apart. "You need me." He laid a thumb against her palm and pressed, hard. "I'm your only option."

Her jaw worked, and she swallowed, but her eyes flared up with pride and she turned to him with her chin raised high. "Yes," she said, not-quite bitterly, "I suppose you are."

Prussia laughed and grabbed her, dragging her across the remaining space between them until her held her tightly, could run his hands up and down the arch of her back, and feel her chin digging into his shoulder, "Time to put you to bed, I think."

Germany, 1944:

He tried reading the telegram backwards, diagonally, with his eyes crossed. He looked for a smudge in the ink or a misprint of address, for something, for anything—

"I'm sorry, East," Germany said. After a moment, he clapped a hand on Prussia's shoulder. "I wanted you to know first. But I must tell our boss. And he must take action."

Prussia looked at the telegram a second longer, then grimaced and wadded it up. "Let me go."

"But—"

"No," Prussia snarled, and kicked over one of the chairs around the conference table. Several soldiers looked up. It wasn't enough. He picked up the chair and brought it cracking down on the table, panting, pushed all the papers to the ground and swore. Germany started forwards.

"East—"

"SHUT UP!" Prussia yelled before he could catch himself. Germany's face hardened, but he said nothing. After a moment, Prussia ducked his head, "I'm going," he said coldly, "Tell your boss."

When her soldiers saw him, some of them rushed forwards, throwing themselves between him and Hungary, but she started forwards, dismissed them with a flash of her hand and met him head on, hands knotted.

"Is it true?" he asked, and thought he'd shoot her if she lied.

"I collaborated with the allies," she said, though her voice shook, "Not at first, but yes. I did. That is true."

Prussia drew his gun, and set it neatly on the table. He stepped forwards and ran his hands down her sides, casually unbuttoned her shirt and tossed away her weapons and her clothes, and didn't stop until she was down to her underwear, arms clasped over her chest. He bent so that they pressed together, and pulled on her hair so that her chin tilted up and there was nowhere for her to look but at him. Her pressed his forehead to hers, smoothed down the goose bumps running up her skin.

"Ungarn," he whispered, "Do you hate me?"

Russia came like fear. Like an unstoppable wave that broke through line after line of defences, until the ground was piled high with the bodies of good, German men.

And then Russia himself came. Bumbling along with a cluster of Hungary's flowers in one hand and a machine gun in the other, he smiled brilliantly upon sighting them.

"Hungary," he said brightly, "You can live with me now."

Hungary, her hands bound with Prussia's handcuffs, said nothing. Prussia kept one hand on her arm and both eyes on Russia, wincing as the big man casually shot one of the Germans in the stomach.

"Poor little thing," he said, while the German screamed, and leveled his gun towards Prussia, who suddenly missed the days of swords and, more importantly, shields.

The ground tilted with an explosion then, and Prussia turned and a shot went off and Hungary's shoulder slammed into his chest, throwing him to the ground. The ground was harder than he remembered.

"Stupid," she muttered, and he clutched at her.

Russia, 1945:

"I'm very glad you're here," Russia said brightly, his expression childishly earnest. "Well—you have always been here. But now you can't leave." He laughed delightedly, though his arm was still in a sling, and a bandage hung over one of his eyes. Prussia leaned against Hungary, who was solid, and about the only warm thing anymore.

She walked with him as they left Russia's house, slower than she would have normally, as he struggled with his crutches.

Neither of them said much.

"They can't stop us," Prussia told her—or was he Germany now? "Like this would be enough to kill us."

Hungary smirked, "Just drive us crazy."

"They're fine," Prussia waved a hand, "What's a few years?" He threw the crutch to the ground in disgust and waved one arm insistently. She draped it over her shoulder with ease.

"A very long time," she said.

Hungary, 1989:

East dragged his feet, watching his people running with only shabby suitcases and tired hands as they crossed the border. Hungary had waited for him, just as she said she would, and he pulled her to her feet but didn't let go of her hand.

The Hungarians and Germans laughed together, racing to cross.

He wore his hair slicked back, now.

"Come on," Hungary ordered, and pulled him along, moving with their people, almost nauseated by the throaty joy rising in them. East let her pull him forwards, almost in a trance, pulse suddenly loud in his ears.

He stopped. "Hey," he said, and dragged her too him, kissing her fully on the mouth, her eyelids, her cheeks.

"What's wrong with you?" Hungary snorted, shoving him a little. East shrugged.

"Just thought I should say goodbye," he laughed, took a breath, and ran to the border as fast as his legs would carry him.

Notes:

In 1211, the Teutonic Knights (Prussia) was granted fiefdom by Hungary.

In 1225, Hungary kicked the Teutonic knights out of the country, after requesting their aid against Transylvania.

In 1226, Prussia invaded Poland's borders and was nearly annihilated by the counterattack.

In 1410, a Polish-Lithuanian force crushed the Teutonic knights at the battle of Grunwald.

In 1466, the Teutonic knights lost western Prussia to the Polish in the Peace of Torun.

In 1526, Austria seized control of Hungary, sans what had already been taken by the Ottoman empire.

In 1740 the war of Austrian succession began. Austria lost most of Sicilia, despite aid from Hungary and England, and by the end of the war in 1748, Prussia was allowed to keep the territory.

In 1772, Poland was partitioned between Austria, Russia, and Prussia.

In 1849, Hungary and Austria were in the midst of their great struggle, and Prussia proposes a league of German states…sans Austria.

The Austro-Hungarian Compromise lasted from 1867 until 1916.

Prussia was at its peak between 1871 and 1918.

In 1879, the Dual-Alliance was formed between Germany (then known as Prussia) and Austria-Hungary.

Before and during WWII, Hungary was reluctantly and opportunistically allied with the axis powers, but engaged in secret conference with the allied forces. The betrayal was discovered, and in 1944, German troops occupied Hungary.

In 1944 Russia smashed through Hungarian/German defenses with the intention of crushing Eastern Prussia.

In 1945, Hungarian and German forces were defeated by invading Soviet armies.

In 1989, the iron curtain was first demolished in Hungary. East Germans migrated towards western Germany through the breach.