Work Text:
August 6th, 1806.
The Holy Roman Empire has been officially dissolved.
It was only a matter of time now until… Until Gilbert’s brother died.
Gott. If France hadn’t declared war… If he had been a little faster… If that Napoleon hadn’t handed Austria his ass…
His brother squeezed his hand and smiled. He squeezed back.
“Could you do something for me?”
“Yes. Anything.”
“Help me write a letter to Italia and deliver it for me.”
“Of course.”
Holy Rome dictates the letter to Gilbert and pretends not to notice how his brother’s hands shake or the tears building in his eyes. He doesn’t know when his Italia will get the letter, but she will want some closure.
He doesn’t want her to wait for someone who will never come back.
So, he tells her that he will always love her. That he will be waiting for her and that she should take her time.
>He says that he’s sorry that he broke his promise to her.
He tells her to be happy, and to not dwell on his… On his death.
He wants to sign the letter himself. Gilbert helps him sit up, steadying him as he writes his name.
Liutward Beilschmidt.
The letter is set on the bedstand to dry. His hands ache, it won’t be long now; he says as much to Gilbert. They’re both crying. They hug. And the Holy Roman Empire fades away.
France will pay for killing his brother. Prussia just needs some money…
April 11th, 1814.
The War of Liberation was over. Napoleon surrendered and was exiled to the relief of many nations. Arthur had thrown a party to celebrate their victory and to humiliate Francis, who was sulking in the corner with a glass of wine in his hand.
Gilbert was of course enjoying some beer. But the party didn’t stop him from worrying about the disgraced Emperor. Would he really stay on Elba? Arthur had assured him that Napoleon was to be under constant guard and wouldn’t be able to procure a ship should he ever try escape.
Eh, Britain was probably right. Best to enjoy the night and not think about garroting Francis with his own belt.
March 1st, 1815.
Arthur, du Hurensohn.
January 18th, 1871.
Germany is unified. Germany is unified and his name is Ludwig Beilschmidt and he’s good with machines and he’s got all these ideas to improve certain products the country makes and-
And he looks just like Liutward. Blond hair, ice-blue eyes, that same serious tone, just deepened by age. But he carries himself differently, in a way that reminds Gilbert of another blonde nation with blue eyes. Ludwig is young and looking to prove himself in any way he can.
Prussia knows that he will.
And as he writes in his newest diary, Gilbert lets go of his grief. Holy Rome is dead, and Germany needs his brother to help him.
Meanwhile, just steps away, an unsent letter is tucked inside a small diary titled, "Wars of the Coalitions: Do Not Open."