Prussia sat on the edge of Germany's roof. One leg dangled over the side, and the other was bracing his elbow, which his chin was resting on. Somewhere in the distance, the sun was rising; but he was hardly paying attention to it. His eyes were trained on the house of a country far away. Across Poland, Belarus, and Ukraine, there was the house of the man he had come to love so much. Had come to love so deeply that his soul refused to leave the Earth until Russia- no, Ivan- let him go.
Prussia knew it was time to go. It wasn't that he ever wanted to die, and it wasn't that he wanted to go now. But the world had moved on, and he had too. It was just time to let go and move on, if Russia would let him.
He never got the opportunity to hear it from Russia, or say it to him... But he did love Ivan. Oh so very much. It made his soul ache to think of how much it hurt Russia to be without him.
Prussia sighed and watched Italy skip up the walkway to Germany's house with flowers in hand. Must be the first flowers of the season. He smiled. Somehow, seeing his brother happy made him feel happy too.
When the light from the sunrise finally hit him, he shielded his eyes and turned to look at England's house. How long had it been since France had been in Paris? Prussia hoped he didn't start to get homesick. But Prussia knew France was always happiest wherever England was. Everyone knew that.
Just like everyone knew Prussia was happiest where Russia was.
England... Please don't forget to tell him...
...oOo...
Sometimes England forgot about how lonely his house was. He used to be a huge empire, there was always someone around. Now his house was just... Empty.
“Angleterre~ !”
The operative word being was.
“Angleterre,” France said again, peering into the fridge, “How long has this been sitting in here? No wonder you got sick...”
“Shut it, frog,” England said, turning the page of his newspaper nonchalantly.
Not a word was said about anything. Last night, just before they went to bed, France randomly said:
“You know, if you ever want to talk about America, I'm willing to listen about it... When you're ready to talk.”
“Oh.” England looked at France with surprise. “Well... If you ever want to- you know- talk about Jeanne, I'll listen too... And... Thanks.”
And that seemed to solve any tension about sharing the house. They had shared before; though it was a good deal more peaceful this time and no one was getting bombed, invaded, annexed, or politically uprooted.
France woke up first (he slept on the couch), and started making breakfast. When England woke up, he went outside to get his paper, and sat down at his table to read.
He was interrupted only by France asking him how he took his tea.
And hence they had an unspoken agreement to share the house and not pry into the other's thoughts.
England got the feeling that France understood that he just needed the company. And so their agreement went smoothly. Minus the difficulties of not being able to be more than a room away from each other at any given time. England took a shower while France settled himself at England's desk to do some paperwork. It was nice to know that England wasn't the only one who was behind. And then they switched off so England could finish catching up.
Which would have been easier if the fairy didn't randomly appear again.
“You two seem to be getting close.”
England just shrugged and said, “I suppose. What did you tell him the other night?”
“You should ask him.”
England was a little fed up with all the trouble that had befallen him lately. “You should go away.”
“You know,” she began, “I'm here to tell it to you like it is. Before you get too comfy with France, you need to ask yourself something.”
He took his glasses off irritably and leaned back in his chair.
“What would that be?”
“Were you ever truly in love with America?”
“Of course I was,” England retorted indignantly. “Why else would it hurt so much when Yuèlǎo cut my string?”
The fairy's calculating gaze was back.
“Of course you loved America, I'm not doubting that. I asked if you were ever in love with him.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes, and then she vanished.
“W-ait... Great. Just bloody great.”
Fairies had such a dramatic flair.
He put his glasses back on and took a deep breath. He really needed to think. He needed to figure some things out before even considering talking to France.
Thanks to the fairy, her old question came back to haunt him.
Why did you do it?
England signed some sort of document that he didn't read very thoroughly.
It wasn't because he was mad at her. He had nothing against her. She just... Stood in his way. Though that was no excuse for wanting to kill her, and it was no excuse for hurting France so badly. He knew it would hurt France. It was France he was trying to hurt. But why?
He filed the signed document.
Maybe he was mad at France for ever having loved her. Loved her over him.
Yeah, that was it.
England sighed and started reordering some files that he had shoved in hastily yesterday.
Do I love France?
His fingers hesitated over the folders of papers.
That wasn't a thought he wanted to consider at the moment.
The tightness in his chest that seemed to appear periodically since his red thread was cut was eased whenever he was around France. Increasingly so since their threads tied themselves. What did that even mean? Whenever France smiled, he smiled. Whenever France laughed, he laughed. He found himself smiling slightly just thinking about it.
Did you ever truly love America?
Yes, he decided. But not romantically. America was just... Very important to him. England had been so strong, only to come crumbling down in front of the entire world. America was someone he had come to depend on; a presence he was so used to feeling. America used to be part of him for goodness' sake.
But he was willing to let him go to see him happy, even if it wasn't with him. That certainly wasn't the case with France.
He shut the drawer with a little more force than intended and sent a cascade of papers off his desk.
England ruffled his hair irritably and leaned over to retrieve them.
Why would France be so nice to him? Shouldn't he want England to suffer like he did? That look of hate on France's face after he had killed Jeanne would certainly lead him to think so. Something must have changed.
When England had mentioned Jeanne at the bar the other night, France didn't get angry. But England needed to apologize, and he knew it. The question was how to bring that up. He was supposed to be helping France, even if it didn't exactly turn out that way. Did he have the right to bring it up?
He put the stack of papers on his desk, and then rested his forehead on it.
Even if he didn't have the right to bring it up, France deserved the apology.
That was it then.
As if on cue, France came out of the shower. A towel was draped over his shoulders and he plopped down on England's bed, starting to dry his hair with it.
England swiveled the chair around to look at him. He tapped a pen against the desk awkwardly; waiting for France to finish. He was such a girl about his hair.
And apparently England was a girl about talking about feelings. He turned back around and said, “Don't get my bed wet.”
“Wouldn't dream of it, mon cher,” France said with a chuckle.
“And don't turn that into some sort of innuendo in your perverted head,” England added.
“Oh how you wound me! As if I would do such a thing.”
England shot him a scathing look over his shoulder and then continued working.
Thank goodness that France wouldn't press him to sort things out. He felt like he had a lot of sorting to do. He turned back to his desk to get working on the easiest of the sorting in question.
France got up to retrieve his paperwork from England's desk. He brought it over to England's bed, and they both worked in silence.
...oOo...
“What do you mean, what about Prussia?” Aphroditê snapped. “It's not like he needs the thread anymore.”
“It completely destroys the spirit of the system!” Yuelao shouted.
“Are France and England your special exception or something?” Aphroditê demanded.
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“Right, of course you didn't.”
“Can you two stop fighting for one second?” Sucellus admonished. “It doesn't even matter now. What is done is done. You two are going to leave them in peace, I am handling this remember?”
“It doesn't even matter,” Freyja said, “No matter who intervenes at this point, people have a way of worming their way through our hands.”
“They aren't people though,” Yuelao said.
“Part of them is,” Sucellus said. “And like I said, relax. I'm handling this. They're doing fine. Leave them be... Just leave them be...
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
In Love and War (10a/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-03-16 03:14 am (UTC)(link)Prussia knew it was time to go. It wasn't that he ever wanted to die, and it wasn't that he wanted to go now. But the world had moved on, and he had too. It was just time to let go and move on, if Russia would let him.
He never got the opportunity to hear it from Russia, or say it to him... But he did love Ivan. Oh so very much. It made his soul ache to think of how much it hurt Russia to be without him.
Prussia sighed and watched Italy skip up the walkway to Germany's house with flowers in hand. Must be the first flowers of the season. He smiled. Somehow, seeing his brother happy made him feel happy too.
When the light from the sunrise finally hit him, he shielded his eyes and turned to look at England's house. How long had it been since France had been in Paris? Prussia hoped he didn't start to get homesick. But Prussia knew France was always happiest wherever England was. Everyone knew that.
Just like everyone knew Prussia was happiest where Russia was.
England... Please don't forget to tell him...
Sometimes England forgot about how lonely his house was. He used to be a huge empire, there was always someone around. Now his house was just... Empty.
“Angleterre~ !”
The operative word being was.
“Angleterre,” France said again, peering into the fridge, “How long has this been sitting in here? No wonder you got sick...”
“Shut it, frog,” England said, turning the page of his newspaper nonchalantly.
Not a word was said about anything. Last night, just before they went to bed, France randomly said:
“You know, if you ever want to talk about America, I'm willing to listen about it... When you're ready to talk.”
“Oh.” England looked at France with surprise. “Well... If you ever want to- you know- talk about Jeanne, I'll listen too... And... Thanks.”
And that seemed to solve any tension about sharing the house. They had shared before; though it was a good deal more peaceful this time and no one was getting bombed, invaded, annexed, or politically uprooted.
France woke up first (he slept on the couch), and started making breakfast. When England woke up, he went outside to get his paper, and sat down at his table to read.
He was interrupted only by France asking him how he took his tea.
“Plain.”
In Love and War (10b/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-03-16 03:16 am (UTC)(link)England got the feeling that France understood that he just needed the company. And so their agreement went smoothly. Minus the difficulties of not being able to be more than a room away from each other at any given time. England took a shower while France settled himself at England's desk to do some paperwork. It was nice to know that England wasn't the only one who was behind. And then they switched off so England could finish catching up.
Which would have been easier if the fairy didn't randomly appear again.
“You two seem to be getting close.”
England just shrugged and said, “I suppose. What did you tell him the other night?”
“You should ask him.”
England was a little fed up with all the trouble that had befallen him lately. “You should go away.”
“You know,” she began, “I'm here to tell it to you like it is. Before you get too comfy with France, you need to ask yourself something.”
He took his glasses off irritably and leaned back in his chair.
“What would that be?”
“Were you ever truly in love with America?”
“Of course I was,” England retorted indignantly. “Why else would it hurt so much when Yuèlǎo cut my string?”
The fairy's calculating gaze was back.
“Of course you loved America, I'm not doubting that. I asked if you were ever in love with him.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes, and then she vanished.
“W-ait... Great. Just bloody great.”
Fairies had such a dramatic flair.
He put his glasses back on and took a deep breath. He really needed to think. He needed to figure some things out before even considering talking to France.
Thanks to the fairy, her old question came back to haunt him.
Why did you do it?
England signed some sort of document that he didn't read very thoroughly.
It wasn't because he was mad at her. He had nothing against her. She just... Stood in his way. Though that was no excuse for wanting to kill her, and it was no excuse for hurting France so badly. He knew it would hurt France. It was France he was trying to hurt. But why?
He filed the signed document.
Maybe he was mad at France for ever having loved her. Loved her over him.
Yeah, that was it.
England sighed and started reordering some files that he had shoved in hastily yesterday.
Do I love France?
His fingers hesitated over the folders of papers.
That wasn't a thought he wanted to consider at the moment.
In Love and War (10c/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-03-16 03:17 am (UTC)(link)Did you ever truly love America?
Yes, he decided. But not romantically. America was just... Very important to him. England had been so strong, only to come crumbling down in front of the entire world. America was someone he had come to depend on; a presence he was so used to feeling. America used to be part of him for goodness' sake.
But he was willing to let him go to see him happy, even if it wasn't with him. That certainly wasn't the case with France.
He shut the drawer with a little more force than intended and sent a cascade of papers off his desk.
England ruffled his hair irritably and leaned over to retrieve them.
Why would France be so nice to him? Shouldn't he want England to suffer like he did? That look of hate on France's face after he had killed Jeanne would certainly lead him to think so. Something must have changed.
When England had mentioned Jeanne at the bar the other night, France didn't get angry. But England needed to apologize, and he knew it. The question was how to bring that up. He was supposed to be helping France, even if it didn't exactly turn out that way. Did he have the right to bring it up?
He put the stack of papers on his desk, and then rested his forehead on it.
Even if he didn't have the right to bring it up, France deserved the apology.
That was it then.
As if on cue, France came out of the shower. A towel was draped over his shoulders and he plopped down on England's bed, starting to dry his hair with it.
England swiveled the chair around to look at him. He tapped a pen against the desk awkwardly; waiting for France to finish. He was such a girl about his hair.
And apparently England was a girl about talking about feelings. He turned back around and said, “Don't get my bed wet.”
“Wouldn't dream of it, mon cher,” France said with a chuckle.
“And don't turn that into some sort of innuendo in your perverted head,” England added.
“Oh how you wound me! As if I would do such a thing.”
England shot him a scathing look over his shoulder and then continued working.
Thank goodness that France wouldn't press him to sort things out. He felt like he had a lot of sorting to do. He turned back to his desk to get working on the easiest of the sorting in question.
France got up to retrieve his paperwork from England's desk. He brought it over to England's bed, and they both worked in silence.
“What do you mean, what about Prussia?” Aphroditê snapped. “It's not like he needs the thread anymore.”
“It completely destroys the spirit of the system!” Yuelao shouted.
“Are France and England your special exception or something?” Aphroditê demanded.
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“Right, of course you didn't.”
“Can you two stop fighting for one second?” Sucellus admonished. “It doesn't even matter now. What is done is done. You two are going to leave them in peace, I am handling this remember?”
“It doesn't even matter,” Freyja said, “No matter who intervenes at this point, people have a way of worming their way through our hands.”
“They aren't people though,” Yuelao said.
“Part of them is,” Sucellus said. “And like I said, relax. I'm handling this. They're doing fine. Leave them be... Just leave them be...
Re: In Love and War (10c/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-03-18 05:34 am (UTC)(link)