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thetaurusgeminisystem · 3 months

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Hetalia writing blurbs #1

A/N: So this is a series I'm probably going to post whenever I come up with some sort of short blurb from a story that is one of my WIPs. I'm doing this to hopefully gain some encouragement because I struggle sometimes with continuing a story. This is a blurb that was written by me and an alter in my system who is an introject of Germany. A lot of what is written is from his own source memories that he's had in the past. This is incomplete at the moment, but I wanted to share what was written.

TW: MENTIONS OF WWII GERMANY, POSSIBLE DESCRIPTIONS OF BAD CAMPS, HISTORICAL HETALIA. Not for the faint of heart. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Berlin, Germany

December 1961

If there was one thing that he hated to feel it was the feeling of weakness. From a young age, Gilbert had taught him that allowing your enemy to see your vulnerability was a death sentence waiting to happen. As the wall went up around the borders of his heart city of Berlin, he became completely fragile.

Ludwig Beilschmidt knelt in front of the concrete fixture that was raised by that damn commie and his men. The wall was thick, cold, and covered in razor sharp barbed wire at its peaks. He had watched so many of his desperate citizens try to escape the harsh rule of the communist east. He also watched them fail miserably and then if they were lucky they weren't executed.

The sound of gunshots, barking dogs, and Russian commands rang in his ears. Nearly every single time the sounds were accompanied by the flashbacks of his foolish mistakes. He knew damn well that he couldn't take on Russia alone, but he was truly too afraid to argue with his boss. Instead he stood by his men's sides as they pumped meth in their systems to block out the excruciating pain or sleep deprivation. He never imagined that his men would become addicted to the illicit substances and then become desperate for more of them.

He could remember the sight of seeing his men lying in the cold and unforgiving snow dead. Their deaths came from either the loss of blood and bodies riddled with bullets or the freezing hand of Russia's famed General Winter taking hold. Being shot to death was a mercy killing when you could die slowly of frostbite and hypothermia. As dark as it was to say, he preferred seeing the snow painted scarlet then to see the failures of his boss to realize that the lack of supplies would cost so much more than the land was worth.

Ludwig had gotten into the habit of coming and kneeling before the monstrous concrete wall almost every day. The habit had come after seeing the true physical state of his older brother Gilbert who now was known as East Germany. Some days Ludwig swore he could hear a lone flute playing on the other side. As it grew much colder though, the sound of the flute grew fainter and fainter. This didn't discourage the younger German personification though. He came every single day and stayed until nightfall because he feared that if he didn't come then he would lose hope.

As it was, he was already losing hope. England and France barely made a move to aid him and his people. Of course he felt that he should have expected that, but it didn't mean that it didn't cut him any less. America seemed to be his only true ally here. The young personification stood by his side when Russia made him feel threatened. Ludwig felt he owed much of his current freedom to the American and his younger sister.

The American girl with the teal and rust colored hair seemed familiar to him. Of course she had taken care of him and his wounds while he was forced into America's custody and he had seen her on the battlefields during the war, but there was something else about her. Ludwig knew her official name to be New York City, but her human name was lost on him at the moment. Everytime he thought of her recently it was like he was trying to access information that he wasn't allowed to. Why the hell was his brain blocking the information away?

What frustrated the German even more about the situation of his lost memories was that every time the personification of New York City was around him, he felt a strange sense of home. Did other nations feel that way when she was around? There was a small part of him that kind of hoped that they didn't. He didn't know where that part of his brain came from, especially because he hadn't made a move towards her, hell he didn't even understand what his feelings were towards her in the first place!

Ever since his time staying in her home, he hadn't fully been able to get her out of his mind. The girl was kind to him and patient with him when he felt that he didn't deserve her kindness, let alone her patience. He saw himself as a monster after he was forced to see the true nature of his boss's “perfect Germany”. He understood why so many other countries looked at him with anger, disgust, and even hatred. Yet the two Americans didn't look at him that way. They looked at him with sympathy.

Gods, but why sympathy? Did they feel sorry for him? Why? Sympathy was a sign of being fragile! He wasn't weak god dammit!

Suddenly Ludwig was brought out of his thoughts when he felt the touch of a cold tendril upon his face. He blinked as he noticed the simple white flakes beginning to spread across the ground. He looked up at the skies above him and saw the sun was still fairly towards the eastern skies, even if it was well hidden by a layer of clouds.

He then glanced down at the cracked wrist watch on his left wrist to confirm his suspicions.

1:00pm

Ludwig then stood to his full height and rested his forehead against the wall. He hadn't heard the sound of Gilbert's flute today, but he was too determined to leave. Gilbert had to be somewhere on the other side, he just knew it. Ludwig took a deep, shaky breath before he began to softly sing “Einsamkeit”. Each of his words were punctuated by a small puff of steam.

“One day bruder… one day” Ludwig finally said quietly as he finished the song. He leaned his head against the cool concrete and closed his eyes. One day he would finally be free and let his people live a life in democracy.

Ludwig stayed this way for at least a few good hours. The only time he seemed to move was to get back into a kneeling position when his legs grew tired. He was almost in a trance, his thoughts dragging him back to the past. His trance-like state made him grow unaware of the growing blizzard conditions around him. He even grew to not realize the steady worsening of his cough.

His mind was at a day in the past where he was forced to his knees in similar snow. He had cuffs securing his wrists in front of him securely. The biting steel of Russia’s pistol dug into his temple while the barrel of England’s was digging into his upper back. He could see dingy and disgusting looking buildings, a gallows where a cowardly soldier allowed the rope to claim his life, and what looked like an army of living skeletons being led away from further horrors by American and British soldiers. What he could remember most about the environment that Arthur, Ivan, Francis, and Alfred had dragged him to was the acrid smell of death.

“Are you aware of what's been going on here, Herr Germany?” the Russian asked, his tone dripping with an edge of disgust, mockery, and anger. As the question left the Russian, the barrel of his gun jabbed at Ludwig’s temple.

Ludwig had no idea that this place even existed, no less , had been used to murder innocent people. He took another look around in horror from his spot kneeling on the ground. Silent tears began to roll down his cheeks as he realized why his body had been sick and why Ace had betrayed him along with others among his men. Ace never meant to hurt him or betray him. She was trying to save him as many of his citizens had.

“Answer the question, you dirty kraut! How could you do this to your own people?” Arthur growled and then he kicked Ludwig in his lower back making the German fall face first into the dirt.

After a moment more of seeing dead bodies being taken away, a sharp pain burst across Ludwig’s chest. “NEIN! I KNEW NOZHING OF ZHIS, MEIN BOSS KEPT ME IN THE DARK ABOUT ANYZHING OZER ZHAH ZHE VARFRONTS!” Ludwig cried out as his tears spilled in a nearly uncontrollable manner at this point.

In that moment it was the first time that Ludwig was fragile around his enemies. When the trials came, he expected a death sentence. What he got was way worse.

The four allied nations had agreed to drop the genocide crime against Ludwig. This was due to all the evidence that New York was able to present. The evidence supported the theory that Ludwig was kept in the dark about all matters outside the war fronts. That didn't stop them from charging him with the rest of his war crimes though.

In the end, he was split into four sectors that were divided among the four allies. England, France, and America took the westward sectors while Russia took the eastward one. Russia's demands did not end there though. Thanks to a rightfully traumatized Poland and Lithuania, Russia demanded that Gilbert be completely disbanded as a nation and his land given to Poland.

What Ludwig had not known was that this very factor left Gilbert defenseless against Ivan and his lackeys. Gilbert had been beaten and kidnapped from the eastern side of the wall and was now imprisoned deep in Russian territory.

8:00pm

The icy winds of the blizzard kicked up and the snow was nearly blinding for anyone who dared to come anywhere near the Berlin Wall.

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