A pillar of light streamed through Prussia's prison cell, the outline of the door shining against the wall, Russia's gigantic shape coming into focus in shadow on the stone. Prussia closed his eyes, then opened them again, lifting his head from the wall, pulling his chained legs underneath the bed where he sat, trying to hide them from Russia. He wouldn't be seen as defeated. Not now. Not ever. He turned slowly to look at Russia, still in silhouette from the contrast of the hall to the dark room. Prussia looked away again as the door closed behind Russia. He forced himself not to react to the sound of approaching giant boots against the stone. It had been months since the fall of Berlin, but he could still feel the bruises from broken ribs every time he breathed too deeply. He shivered as Russia sat next to him, the unrelenting cold Russia brought with him infecting the room.
"Have you come to gloat?" Prussia spoke slowly, turning away from Russia to look at the wall.
"No. I've come to offer you a deal." Russia
"A deal?" Prussia chuckled.
"I'm not a monster, you know."
"No, you're not." You're a psychopathic freak. Prussia finished in his head.
"I'm glad you agree."
Prussia could feel Russia's sickening smile boring through him. He said nothing.
"You know they're blaming you," Russia sighed, almost kindly. "I know it wasn't your fault, but someone has to take the blame, don't they?"
Prussia didn't answer, looking away. Russia was being... nice? It scared him.
"And now that you're no longer a nation..."
Prussia turned to look at Russia suddenly. "Either tell me why you're here or get out."
"Do not speak to me that way." Russia's voice was stern and cold.
Prussia turned away, looking straight forward, silent.
"Fine." Russia stood, turning to leave as he spoke, "If you don't want a chance to save your baby brother, that's fine with me."
"Wait."
Russia stopped and looked back over his shoulder with a cold smile. "Da?"
"What are you talking about?" Prussia whispered.
"I told you. I came here to make a deal." Russia smiled, turning back to Prussia.
"I'm listening."
......
Prussia glanced at Germany, who's hands were wringing under the table, his jaw clenching and releasing. He was afraid for his people. Prussia noticed the bruises on his brother's wrists, realizing with anger that the Allies hadn't been any kinder to his brother than they'd been to him. He hadn't expected them to be.
The other nations sat around the table, the Allies on one side, the Axis on the other, their bosses around them, arguing, and explaining what was going to happen to Europe, especially the Axis powers of Europe. Guards stood at the doors of the large, plain room, ready to stop anyone who tried to leave early. The room's lighting was dim. He figured it was supposed to feel calm, but it didn't, it felt threatening. He felt angry, sick, and ashamed of what he, and his brother, had done. He glanced at Poland, who hadn't once looked at him. The blonde country's arm was still wrapped in a sling, and the faint outline of a scar could be seen on his cheek. Gil had given it to him. He knew the little country's body was probably still wrapped in bandages from what they'd done. They'd left scars that would never heal. He wasn't proud of it.
"Germany," The voice of America's boss drifted back into Prussia's mind, "Will remain split into East, and West."
Prussia saw West sigh in relief. He smiled a little, he hadn't been afraid of the Allies killing him, but West had. He turned to his brother and smiled, nodding. His eyes met Russia's. He shivered. He hated what he was about to do, but everything rested on West's ability to survive. No matter what. He'd take the blame. West had to survive.
