Hello everyone! I'm back.

Anyway, this oneshot came about because I wanted to portray Prussia more differently than he is usually portrayed. From the fanfics that I've read, Prussia is usually cheerful and loudmouthed. However, I made him more refined and more aloof. This Prussia isn't afraid to scorn Germany (he isn't the ideal big brother), and he doesn't care what his younger brother thinks either. There won't be loving embraces or gentle kisses in this, since this Prussia doesn't go for those sorts of things. I don't know how you'll view this kind of Prussia; I'd love to hear your opinions though!

And another thing is that this probably isn't historically correct. Rather, I tried putting in different viewpoints of citizens that might have occurred (does that make sense?).

I'm tired now. :( Please read!

The first time he saw him was on the battlefield, framed against the ashy blue sky. Blurred, an undefined face with smooth white contours… or was it just his dimming eyesight that was misting over the image? From the stench of blood and decay came a different smell; something that arose from the figure and that could only be described as the scent of power. Raw, barely-restrained power that washed over him in waves as he lay bleeding on the dirt. His body suddenly convulsed with cold, jerky movements. In his death throes (for the pain convinced him that he was on the verge of fading away), he thought of his little Italia back at home. She had promised to make sweets for him when he returned… Well, he supposed that she wouldn't have to bother now. The sudden weight of something on his head roused him from his stupor. A hand, it seemed, petting him softly on the tips of his hair. He had forgotten about the person looming over him ambiguously. How nice it was, though, to be touched this way. The gentle caressing movements were the last thing he felt as he was losing consciousness. Before he fell into oblivion he thought that being cared for like this was a nice prelude to death.

But sometime later he became Norddeutscher Bund, a congregation of countries and duchies and the like that was for the most part ruled by Prussia. He supposed that this arrangement was to be expected, since his "brother" had been the one to nurture him after that last war and who was currently trying so hard to gain new territories for him. Despite the man's doing so much for him he didn't see him often; only a few times a year for meetings and such with the Bundesrat or the Reichstag. In those few short instances he would try to impress Preußen in any way that he could, as he was his most significant sibling and impressions were important. However, the man was never really interested and he seemed to be using him, much like how his citizens would rear purebred animals to further their own gains. Preußen was distant, as cold as the icy white of his hair implied; manipulative too. Yet Norddeutscher Bund still sat at his desk every day, thinking up propositions that would afford him at least some recognition from his brother.

One time Preußen entered his room during one of these sessions. He himself had gone over to him stiffly, trying to imitate the polite, detached way in which Preußen walked. The man had looked at him. Nothing showed on his blank face.

All of a sudden Preußen had touched his, Norddeutscher Bund's, forehead.

He had casually swept his bangs aside, a light sliding movement. The sensation was intoxicating. And he, naïve little fool that he was, had thought that perhaps his brother was finally satisfied with him and he had hurried to his desk with the intention of presenting his latest proposition to the man.

When he turned back, Preußen was gone, as if he had never been there in the first place.

1871: the year of the Deutsches Reich, the German Empire. He had been nervous as he stood in the resplendent Hall of Mirrors. The weight of his new nation regalia bore down on his broadening shoulders. Wilhelm seemed fine, though; then again, he had experience with these kinds of ceremonies. Something caught his eye. He turned from the soon-to-be German Emperor to see Preußen standing royally at the side. That was odd; he had not been there before. Or had he? It was hard to tell, he was always so enigmatic. Anyway, the ceremony was about to begin, so he had no time to ponder further. He and Wilhelm walked side-by-side down the path between the columns of soldiers. He tried to hold his head high, to conceal the awkwardness that he felt (he was on the brink of leaving adolescence). They finally reached the front of the room, and he took a deep breath. The words to Wilhelm's proclamation into German Emperor flew through his ears in a blurring flurry. All of a sudden it was over and he was the one being told to kneel and the ermine mantle of nationhood was being draped over him and oh, everything was happening so quickly! He stopped panicking long enough to hear the last few words of the confirmation committee telling him to rise and that he was now the Deutsches Reich. The blood of new nationhood suddenly surged through his veins. He stood upright, now feeling confident and powerful. All around him the cheers of his people rang with joy. In his giddiness he looked toward the side of the room. Preußen was advancing toward him, a slight smile on his face. The sea of people parted to make way; now he was being directed to a more private place behind the velvet curtains. His brother stood before him, eyes glowing. They were almost the same height. Preußen's gloved hands came to rest on the sides of his feverishly red cheeks.

"Deutsches Reich," he murmured. "I name you: Ludwig." The coolness of the gloves' fabric did nothing to lessen the intensifying heat in the newly christened Ludwig's face. He reveled in the attention he was receiving from his ever-distanced brother.

"Thank you," he stuttered out. The hands left his face then. For a moment he felt lost. Then he looked up to see the Prussian blue uniform of his brother. Preußen looked at him piercingly. Then he said,

"I am Gilbert." Ludwig felt his cheeks flame up once again; he turned his gaze shyly. When he looked up again, Gilbert had disappeared.

"I suppose you're proud of yourself."

Ludwig had looked up at that, had glimpsed the coldly bland face and the coldly bland eyes that accompanied the coldly bland voice. He huffed silently and then turned away.

"What makes you say that?"

"Nothing. I merely said it to get you to react." For a moment Ludwig had almost believed that to be true. Then he saw Gilbert's eyes; they had turned even icier. The reds of the irises had become clearer, sharper. He resisted the urge to squirm.

"I do this for the Fatherland."

"No." Gilbert had stalked over to him from his former place in the shadows. He was still rather detached, though a bit of anger was showing through. "Were you doing this for the Fatherland, your people would not be suffering as they are now. My soldiers would not be trudging their ways through the snow of the Soviet Union, deprived of equipment and of food. No," he had repeated again firmly. "You are doing this for your precious Herr Hitler."

"It is not just for him; all of Germany will benefit from this."

"I can see that you have tried to convince yourself as such." Gilbert's smile was disturbing: a slash of white teeth and tightly tensed lips. A feral smile, one that showed that he had trapped his prey into an inescapable corner. Ludwig had grown uncomfortable.

"What do you mean—"

"And you have repeated it over and over in your head, that Germany will eventually be rewarded under the guidance of the illustrious Herr Hitler."

"That's not—"

"But you know that it is an empty thought, a fanciful desire and nothing more. For how can a madman bring a country to glory? Tell me, do I not speak the truth?" Ludwig fell silent. Gilbert watched him, an animal gleam in his eye. He had always been able to surmise his younger brother's innermost thoughts, despite always having been distant and elusive toward him. Ludwig had been silent for a few moments longer; then, he stated dejectedly,

"I must follow our superior's wishes. You know that as well as I." To his surprise, Gilbert laughed.

"I, who have been in existence long before you were formed, who had been serving under monarchs and despots for hundreds of centuries; you tell me that I should know as well as you? You are but a mere babe!" he rasped incredulously. Ludwig suddenly felt like a child again, back in the days when his brother's knowledge had seemed much more vast than his could ever be (granted, it still was). Even though he had grown to be the taller of the two, he now felt tiny and naïve before his mocking brother.

"Well," he inquired in a small voice. "What should I do?" Gilbert's eyes shone.

"Rebel."

"…What?"

"Rebel. Rise against Hitler and fight for your people. Then you will truly be doing something for the Fatherland."

"I can't do that! It's unheard of for a country to rise against its leader." Gilbert's expression was one of disappointment. Ludwig found himself wanting to rebel just to satisfy his brother, but his loyalty to his leader was too strong. His brother looked away disinterestedly, as if he no longer cared for Ludwig.

Then, all of a sudden, a calculating, crafty look stole onto his face. He had turned back. His jackboots made virtually no sound as he walked toward Ludwig. He kept advancing, forcing the other man to back up until he hit the wall. Gilbert's right hand rose. He trailed it along Ludwig's chest. His younger brother sucked in his breath.

"What are you doing?" Now the fingers were nearing his collarbone; they brushed oh-so-tantalizingly over his pulse. Then they dropped down and roamed the expanse of his chest again.

"If you won't rebel," Gilbert whispered huskily. "Then I will." He pressed closer and nipped at Ludwig's ear. Ludwig recoiled.

"You know Herr Hitler doesn't approve of h…"

"Pardon?"

"He doesn't approve of… You know…"

"Say it." The red eyes dared him to.

"…Homosexuals," Ludwig finally whispered. Gilbert laughed.

"That's better! The first step to accepting reality is to recognize it. And the reality right now is that we, two men—two brothers—are being intimate with each other."

"Nnh—" Ludwig was cut off as Gilbert's lips attacked his mouth. He had tried to resist; however, the temptation was too great. Their tongues wove around each other as their mouths opened. It was a moment of heated passion; Ludwig found that he was being driven into a frenzy… Then, as spontaneously as he had started it, Gilbert withdrew. Ludwig felt a sudden cold as the other man pulled away. It was an empty feeling; one of being lost, almost. He gazed dully at his brother before realizing what they had just done.

"You—I—" Gilbert looked at him with flat eyes. He said nothing. As his brother sputtered on, he kept watching, waiting… Then, after Ludwig had gradually halted his flow of speech, Gilbert gave him a piercing glance and walked out of the room. His brother was left to himself, feeling guilty and unclean. Yet he knew that the other man's influence on him would never fade.

A few years passed and Ludwig was knocked off his already low perch. The war was over, Hitler had fallen, and he was back to where he had started. Furthermore, much frustration and a few reluctant signatures later, Gilbert had been abolished as Prussia, reinstated as East Germany, and left on the other side of the Berlin Wall with the Soviet Union. Ludwig, needless to say, had been outraged. Outraged and helpless.

It had been like any other bleak, meaningless day. He went to work, tried to repair his facilities, and returned home feeling that his situation was never going to improve. However, that particular day had been special for a few reasons. One, he had been late to work because the day before he had been drinking heavily, convinced that he was never going to get better and that he had nothing left to lose. Two, he had been spat at today by one of his own citizens, who then proceeded to glare at him disdainfully and then walk away. And three, he had gone home to find his windows open.

Ludwig never opened his windows when he left the house. He always made sure that they were firmly shut so as to prevent burglars from entering. Therefore, he had immediately gone into panic mode. However, he composed himself, took out the pistol he carried to work every day, and edged inside the house cautiously. There was nothing in the kitchen. The bathroom was empty as well. But when he entered the parlor he saw an arm resting on the armrest of the sofa. The arm was clad in a sleeve of blue, Prussian blue… Suddenly, the possessor of the arm stood up. Ludwig fully expected to see a head of silver-white hair. He was even about to choke out his brother's name, to fall to his knees, to run to him, to do whatever he could to relay his joyous feelings.

But he did not see white hair. Instead, there was brown hair, cut at shoulder-length. When the person turned around, Ludwig glimpsed his soot-black eyes. He faltered.

"Who are you?" he had asked tremulously. Inside his mind, he berated himself for daring to hope that it was his brother. How would Gilbert get here anyway? He would have had to cross the heavily guarded Berlin Wall, the strictly enforced Iron Curtain; not to mention the Allies' guards. Meanwhile, the person looked at him coolly. He uttered nothing. The air lay dead between them. Finally, he said quite simply,

"I am here."

It was then that Ludwig realized who his visitor was. He was astounded. All he could choke out was,

"How—How—" But Gilbert shook his head. His only inquiry was,

"Where is the shower?" Mutely, Ludwig led him there. He watched as his brother washed out the black pigment in his eyes. He saw Gilbert take off the brown wig that covered his head. He stared at the other man as he stripped off his clothes and revealed his worn, naked body.

"What happened to you, brother?" he murmured, tracing over the multiple lacerations and scars with his eyes. At first, Gilbert said nothing. Then—

"Don't worry about me. I've escaped temporarily, that's all you need to know for now." Hearing this, Ludwig was compelled to speak out.

"Please, brother," he said quietly, letting all of his bottled-up feelings out. "I've respected you for so long, and I still do, but—am I not enough for you? What can I do to earn your respect? What should I do so that you will treat me as an equal—"

"Leave." Cold red eyes, frosted over by years of snow. Ludwig knew that he had gone too far. He nodded stiffly and exited the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Knowing that he had disappointed his brother once again.

He had made his way to his bedroom. It was sparse, painted a clean white. A speck of dust was on his desk; he wiped it off. He looked around. Everything was pristine, placed in neat, equal rows in the alignment of the room. Suddenly he couldn't bear to look anymore. His eyes closed, and his hands gripped the edges of his desk tightly. Gilbert had been there with him as far back as he could remember. Ludwig tried hard to recall his lost memories, the ones from before the war from which his brother had taken him in afterward. His mind drew a blank. No matter, he had thought bitterly. Gilbert was bound to have been as aloof and elusive as he was now. Distantly he heard the water from the shower cease to run. The sound of footsteps followed. Was it getting closer…?

Ludwig opened his eyes to see Gilbert in the doorway of the room, clad in nothing but a towel. He straightened up slowly.

"You are finished, I presume?" he asked, wondering why the other man was here. There came no answer. Instead, the noiseless pattering of bare feet upon the floor assaulted his ears as Gilbert padded toward him. One, two, one, two… now he was standing before Ludwig, staring into his eyes. Gilbert lifted his hand. His fingers glided over the other's torso, his navel… they stopped on his vital regions.

Immediately Ludwig stiffened.

Then he understood.

He now took hold of Gilbert's arm and led the man to the bed. As his brother lay down, Ludwig undressed. His fingers had skimmed over his Iron Cross; he decided to leave it be. It gave him strength, and strength was what he now needed most to force Gilbert into submission. He gazed at his brother. His brother stared back. Ludwig climbed onto the bed. Bundesrepublik Deutschland sprang into being.

Later, he loomed over Gilbert with his hands on either side of his head, looking down at him and panting slightly. There was a slight smirk on the other man's face. Ludwig had become annoyed. He crashed his mouth onto Gilbert's lips, bruising them, biting them, trying to erase the look of smugness. Nevertheless, the smirk remained. Gilbert whispered,

"Had you been more authoritative before, I would have told you everything. Dominance is a lesson you must learn by yourself." Ludwig had nodded. He returned to savoring his brother's body. A thought gradually occurred to him.

"You won't leave, will you?" he inquired, letting some naïve hope filter into his voice. And that was where he had erred. Gilbert's eyes grew icy once more; he turned away from him. Ludwig rolled to the side. He faced the wall, seething with frustration. If only he had not spoken!

As expected, his brother was gone when he woke up in the morning.

The next time, he was ready.

Talk had been going around about German reunification recently. Ludwig was certain that Gilbert would pay him a visit, if not sooner then later. His dear brother was bound to have some choice things to say about the matter. However, just to make sure that he would come, Ludwig had put out some beer and pancakes (he had found out that they were his brother's favorite food from the man's friends; how pathetic was it that he did not even know this of his own sibling?). As an afterthought, he decided to go out to buy some more supplies. One could never be too prepared.

After a while he was back from the grocer's, armed with Rote Grütze and even Würzfleisch. Smugly he thought that Gilbert would never be able to resist the array of foods. He reached the front door and unlocked it. He stepped inside and walked to the kitchen. Along the way, he happened to peek into the living room.

The television was on.

Startled, Ludwig barked,

"Who's there?"

"Come and see," came the teasing reply from the sofa in front of the television. Ludwig's eyes widened. He went over to it.

"Brother?"

"Ah, you've brought more food!" Gilbert righted himself from his sprawled out position. He placed the plate of pancakes in his hand on the coffee table, where a mug of beer lay. They he took the grocery bags in Ludwig's arms. As he examined their contents, Ludwig stuttered,

"How did you get in?"

"The door. I've come to discuss some matters with you." Gilbert set the bags down, graveness written over his features. The other man turned serious as well.

"Reunification."

"Ah! So you know." Gilbert laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them, then crossed one leg over the other primly. He gazed at his brother. "And of course you know that they are really going through with it." Ludwig nodded; he himself had approved it along with the government. He was growing suspicious. This was not how he had envisioned that the visit would go; why was Gilbert just stating the obvious?

"Is anything—"

"Oh no, everything is for the most part fine. There is just one little issue." Saying so, Gilbert stood up from his place on the sofa and walked over to the sunlit window. His brother gaped.

In the light emanating through the glass panes, Gilbert was nearly transparent. Ludwig could almost discern the swirled detailing of the wallpaper behind him through his skin.

"What…?" he tried to say. Gilbert's face suffused into a snarl.

"I'm fading, you little shit. You didn't think about the consequences when you agreed to reunification, did you? Now look at what you've done!" He thrust his arms out. They were the most transparent of all. Ludwig could see the floorboards through them.

"I- I didn't—I thought you would have agreed to reunification as well," he tried to justify.

"Why would I? That would mean my dissolution!" Waves of emotion radiated from Gilbert, waves of fear… and hate. Ludwig realized just what he had done.

"I'm so sorry—"

"That won't help," his brother snapped, cutting him off. He turned away. "After all I've done for you," he muttered furiously, "you betray me like this! Ungrateful little whelp… I ought to teach you what respect is…"

"Stop."

At this, Gilbert whirled on the other man.

"What?"

"I said to stop." Ludwig's deep regret had gradually turned into annoyance, then anger. "You will not fade; I will help you." At this, his brother laughed mockingly.

"So now you wish to do something? What a kind child you are! But you need not bother; I have no wish to exist in the same world as a mercenary traitor." However, Ludwig's cold, even voice overpowered the stinging rebuke.

"You have no choice in the matter. I say that you shall not fade; therefore, you will not." Gilbert's eyes narrowed.

"You have no jurisdiction over me."

"Really?" Now it was Ludwig who looked at him incredulously. "You are no longer the kingdom you once were, brother. Those days are long gone. You can't afford to refuse assistance." His brother clenched his hands into fists. His eyes smoldered; he turned around abruptly.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll be going now." He made as if to walk away, but Ludwig caught his shoulder. His arms held Gilbert like fetters of steel; fetters of life.

"You will not go, and you will not fade."

"Let go of me," Gilbert spat. He struggled in the cage of Ludwig's arms. When the other man did not move, he turned to kicking, biting, scratching. And Ludwig patiently bore it all. His body was battered again and again. But the ineffective blows of his weakening brother reminded him that getting injured could never amount to Gilbert's disappearance. Therefore he watched him fight, and while Gilbert was struggling Ludwig concentrated on holding him tightly. Presently, the man's movements ceased. He was now leaning dispiritedly on the other, back to chest. Ludwig was saddened. Where had his older brother, the one who had once been so powerful, gone? This new person was frail and weak: insubstantial. This made Ludwig even more determined to carry out his plan. He let go of Gilbert, steadying him; then he turned and walked to his bedroom, never looking back. He was almost halfway there before he heard the trudging pattering of footsteps behind him. Still, he stared straight ahead, his gaze never wavering. It was when he reached his room that he finally turned around. Gilbert glared at him defiantly. His hands were shoved into his pockets.

"Let's make this quick," were his only words. They stripped themselves of their clothing, and on the bed transparency turned to opaqueness.

In the afternoon, Ludwig awoke to the sound of chattering passersby. He looked over to his right. Gilbert was there, sleeping soundly. He seemed perfectly substantial, all silver and white and red. The other man lay down again, content, and closed his eyes. He tried to dream of a war from long ago when he had been saved by an indistinct blur of a man…

I hope it wasn't too bad.

As you've probably gathered, each section is a different era of Germany's history. But in case it was confusing:

1st section: Holy Roman Empire

2nd section: Norddeutscher Bund

3rd section: German Empire

4th section: Nazi Germany

5th section: Post-WWII

6th section: Pre-unification

Please review! I'd like to hear constructive criticism to see how I can improve.