Hetalia Kink meme part 9 -- CLOSED

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hetalia kink meme
part 9

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Wake [4/5]

[anonymous]

Germany was horrible at keeping secrets, but he still tried his hardest. But it was all useless, not when they could feel the ripples in the world. They as Nations just knew. All of them felt the loss of one of their number, the yawning void and empty confusion as the world tried to adjust to absence and stretched itself thin trying to cover the cracks. Even then, they all just knew it.

Prussia was back.

No- he wasn’t Prussia any longer.

Whatever feral creature that helped in breaking down the wall, clothing gray from dust and the grave and forced dullness, that had nearly struck Germany across the face in a moment of wild animal reaction- whatever resemblance that creature with a young man’s body and face had to Prussia-

That was not Prussia.

He spoke with a cracked shadow of Prussia’s raucous tenor and Germany had gotten him to sit still long enough to hack off the matted mess of shoulder length hair. Under the grime, the hair was stark white, no hint of gold or blonde. And the eyes now blazed red and mad as a goshawk’s.

Even as he ghosted behind Germany’s protective bulk as he barred the doorway from France and Spain and he grinned and he had the same prominent canines.

“No presents, bitches?” he inquired casually.

It was Spain who made the new creature start and glare, as he spoke, “Prus-”

“No,” said the shadow and ghost quite simply. He didn’t snarl, his voice held no rancor or anger. “No.”

And yet it was East Germany who was laying out the Prussian flag tenderly upon that brand new casket. It was East Germany who pressed his immaculately gloved hand upon the casket lid and then knelt in one fluid movement and pressed his brow against there too, his eyes closing.

Throughout the memorial, his lips mouthed words that no one else would hear and were meant for no one in particular. Perhaps he prayed; his attitude seemed as fervent as a priest’s. Germany was the sort not to ask too closely.

The shadow sat by the grave long after the mourners and onlookers and gawkers had vanished or been herded firmly away. He became a ghost, unnoticed and unheeded. Or perhaps he had always been one, a shape rather than a form.

“It took me over two hundred years, but I did it,” he said at last. “I’m- sorry that it had to be this way. But then again, I’m always late. You got used to that.” He exhaled slowly and let the night air caress his skin more affectionately than any lover.