The Tales Of Prussia(Countryhumans story)

21

"The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him."

-G.K. Chesterton

Third persons pov.

After a few minutes Prussia finally sat up, now in a half burning, half distinguished room. Every surface was black from the ash of the fire, yet she was totally fine. Carefully the country stood up, feeling strange, it was only now that she noticed her height had increased, suddenly the ceiling felt closer and she felt strange on her feet. "What in the..." As she lifted her hands, she noticed black runes and symbols now plastering her skin and her fingertips were even darker than her flag normally was. Stumbeling a bit she began to make her way out of the castle as there was not a single magic source meerly stong enough to be a country, yet if France wasnt in his castle, where was he? Confused she began let her mind wander, thinking of the many places where he would expect her. The castle where she had stayed so long? No he wasnt there...Only a single other place came to her mind.

"Notre-Dame."

She muttered before opening her wings and flying to the large church in the heart of Paris. There was a lot of chaos in the streets of the large city, many building were burning yet the cathetral was intact and seemed relatively ignored by the chaos around it.

Prussia landed carefully in front of it, the large wooden doors were heavy, yet not closed and by far no match against her strenght. Yet still she drew her sword as she entered the church, making sure to close the door behind herself. The ground of church was covered in rose pedals, a wedding probably had happened shortly before the attack she figured. The candels inside were lit, making the church shimmer in golden rays of light and gold, yet there was not a single soul inside, except for one figure, kneeling at the altar.

"It had always been my childhood dream to marry the most beautiful woman on earth in this church and to be the strongest country on earth...Somewhere I am gratefull for all my dreams to be forfilled, yet at the same time I would beg god for more time with those dreams...More time to actually live them..."

The familiar voice of the frenchman said. He stood up and turned to her and even though Prussia would have loved to insult him, but he seemed miserably enough to make her have pity and at least spare him this shame.

"It was my dream to protect my mother, so that when the day came, when she peacefully passed away, that I would take over her country with pride and have a husband that loved me...As you can see none of my dreams ever came true, so be grateful for your luck."

She spoke, lowering her sword a bit, yet still keeping her firm grip on the handle. Alone his mere presence made the normally so fearless country feel uncomfortable and threathend. He walked a few steps torwards her, yet stopped only to sit down on the highest step of the small stairs leading up to the altar before admitting

"I am sorry that I took the later from you... it wasn't my right to do so, to cut of your wings, to humiliate you like this...I know this apology will bring nothing back, yet its still something I didn't want to take with me to the grave. You deserve to have some closure and to finally get a fair fight...Its your right to fight with me till one of us is dead. I know I will be dead, if its you who kills me or Britain or R.E...Its up to you, if you wish to defend your honour and maybe even regain it."