Rivals and Friends

Rivals and Friends: Or, a 1983 Doomsday Tale Through a Nation's Eyes.

Somewhere in Prussian Pomerania. Christmas Eve 2012.

“Are you going to finish that?” Gilbert whined impatiently as he watched the blond Pole across from him toy around with his glass. That the radio over at the nearby counter was playing some version of Still Nacht straight out from Austria‘s collection made it seem even longer than it had to be. “You know that thing’s been half full since forever!”

Feliks Lukasiewisz simply ignored the albino, his fingers drawing small ponies on the frost before fixing his drab winter uniform. “Patience is, like, a virtue,” he eventually shot back in a disintereted if oddly forced voice. “Besides, my vodka is, like, stronger than your stuff! Have you so forgotten about that already Prusy?”

“Hey, Polen. How else could I have survived if I wasn’t patient?” The Nation of Prussia wasn’t so sure if the usually flamboyant blond was simply bored or very, very annoyed. It was an open secret that Poland hasn’t exactly taken the “liberation” of Pomerania, let alone Doomsday all that well. Then again, he thought quietly while taking another sip. You never did give me much credit anyway. “Besides, it’s not like we have all night here!” Why even bother with this anyway?

By most accounts, the year was shaping up to be a great one for Gilbert. Thanks to that Wolfsburg Treaty made with those nearby Survivor-Nations, he was now the undisputed master over his corner of the German Wastes. That his people were growing ever more respected, and King Georg’s gambit of talking down the Nordics and their allies actually worked only served to bring even more honor to the already proud Nation. Still, as he glanced at the window, an oddly peculiar bird perched just outside, a part of him wondered: would Old Fritz, Bismarck and perhaps even his late brother be happy knowing that despite all the odds, Prussians were once more making it in the world? Heh, why wouldn’t they? That moment quickly vanished however upon looking back at the Pole.

“Oh right. Now where was I?” he finally continued, straining to sound energetic. “About that rumor over at Roderich’s place…”

A frown entered Feliks’ face as he took another sip. “Like, what rumor? As if the Party tells me anything.”

“Some weird stuff from the Alpines about little Julia being kidnapped,” he shrugged. The Nation had no idea, if he were honest as to why he brought it up. Still better than nothing. “Of course, I couldn’t get much out of that aristocrat, but I doubt you’d believe it anyway. I mean, there’s something about a conspiracy, some secret hideout – Hell, how about Roderich of all people going after those bandits, with gun and sword like some old paperback hero?”

Although Prussia’s laughter was definitely forced, he had to admit that it was an incredibly bizarre if unnerving story, even for the likes of Austria or Switzerland to make up. Sure, he’s glad to know that Julia was safe and Roderich at least could handle himself. But the notion that there was a group out there trying to somehow reawaken the horrors of Doomsday while hunting his kind down did little to calm the albino’s nerves. Though that paled to how those madmen were finally stopped, which for some reason reminded him of a certain nightmare a few years ago. Even now, he still couldn’t get its, or rather her haunting image from his head. Scheiße, not again! Why the fuck did I have to bring her up?!

“Like, stop trying to pretend,” Poland sighed as he finally set his glass aside. “Personally, I’d so like to totally check up on Liet right now. But if you’re trying to make up for taking Pomerania for, like, the nth time with some awesome tale, then you’re not doing a good job at it.”

“Says you,” Gilbert shot back. “Why bother going through with this when you’re taking orders from those Soviet wannabes you call the Party? Hell, you even have a fucking free bit further east so why don't you fight on from there?! I mean, wasn’t one fucking Cold War enough?!”

“Like, shut up, Niemiecka Republika Demokratyczna,” Feliks sneered irritably as his voice lowered. “You think that my people are just letting things be. Do you think I’m not doing my share?! East Poles, West Poles…My land will be reunited and free if it’s the last thing I do. Starting with Pomerania!”

Prussia winced at the mention of that name even as he dodged a thrown glass meant for his face. If the Nation were honest, it still startled him for a moment just how angry that would-be pheonix could be. “I thought we got over this, dummkopf?! I am not East Germany anymore! Besides, my soldiers won it fair! I won it fair! We’re treating it better than you or those ponies ever did!”

“As if pouring salt on my wounds has stopped me before! Haven’t you learned that by now? Or are you still so obsesssed with bragging about your failed kingdom?!”

“That’s it!” Standing up, he felt the urge to reach for his pistol, only to groan upon remembering how his King begged him to leave the weapon back in Berlin. Verdammt… Still, the albino kept his stride. “If you’re so eager for payback, then have at it! Those minders aren’t gonna save you here anyway!”

He could already see Feliks setting aside his uniform’s coat. “I’d so totally oblige, Skurwielu. And I’ll make sure you remember this more than Grunwald!”

“Oh yeah, you cross-dressing Communist!?” Grabbing his still half-filled mug, Gilbert poised himself to strike. “ Heil dem ehrfürchtigen-”

The glass suddenly shattered as a feminine hand came out of nowhere, tightly grasping his arm. For a moment, Prussia felt a tinge of both fear and recognition before turning his head towards the figure. If not for his pride and centuries’ worth of experience, he would have screamed right there and then. You…

A crooked shadow of a smile crossed the face of a familiar lady in an old country dress. “I thought we had an understanding, Prussia~”

“H-Hey, Liz!” the albino stuttered, trying his hardest to keep smirking. “Surprised to see you out here.”

Hungary shrugged, the flower in her hair seemingly tilting in unison as she let go. “Just happened to be passing through. But it looks like I came right on time. So what’s gone into you guys now?”

“Like, please don’t get involved in this Elizaveta,” Feliks butt in, the blond’s voice returning to normal despite the shock. “I just have to teach this wannabe conqueror what it means to cross me! Besides, after all that’s happen t-”

“Don’t even think about it!” Gilbert couldn’t help but snap at the Pole. “Ungarn, if you’ve forgotten is dead. Yet you fucking expect her to fight for you?! Get a grip already you fucking Red d-”

“Elég ti ketten! ELÉG MÁR!” For a brief moment, Prussia was speechless as he glimpsed a sight at once angelic yet straight out from his nightmares. Yet even right then he still couldn’t quite make sense of it, only managing to catch a glimpse of wings before the moment finally passed, revealing instead an oddly solemn-looking Hungary.

“Ó, Lengyel,” Hungary sighed sadly as she turned towards her old brother-in-arms. “I know how frustrating things must be. And as much as I’d like you to keep fighting, trust me on this one:  waging another war won’t bring back Pomerania any more than it would revive Warsaw. Too much blood as already been spilled here and elsewhere. So please… don’t let Doomsday’s madness consume you. Just hang in there.”

Felix nodded carefully before smirking coyly. “I, like, figured Mag. Then again, you’ve totally never let me down before.”

You’ve got to be kidding me… Before the albino himself could voice out anything however, he noticed Elizaveta moving towards him, a hand reaching out and grasping his shoulder tightly. The gesture, masculine as it was reminded the Nation briefly of how they used to greet each other on the battlefield, whether as enemies or comrades, only for that to fade before her piercing glare.

“Now as for you,” she started, her green eyes glaring into his own. “If I wanted you dead, that dream would have been the least of your worries.”

“Wait. What the hell are you saying?!”

The Magyar frowned as she pulled Gilbert closer, her touch growing more tender though oddly no less firm. “You’ve always been so dense. But I know you’re no fool. Is this brawl worth risking everything your people have done? Or how about those Survivor-Nations under your wing? Do you want them to follow down the same chaos Ludwig had to go through?!” A soft smile began lining her lips as her voice faded into a whisper. “Besides, it wouldn’t make for a good Christmas. So for old time’s sake, can you at the very least try to make up?”

For once, Prussia swallowed his pride to take a deep breath. Despite what’s happened before, it still felt weird talking to someone who was already dead. Nonetheless, his more martial, honor-bound kept crying for satisfaction while another part of him kept wondering how awesome it would be to nab one more victory from Poland. And yet she’s absolutely right… Finally, just as she let go, he sighed.

“What can I say?” he said with a familiar smirk. “You can count on the awesome me!”

The warm chuckle Elizaveta let out, even as she rolled her eyes was all the albino needed. Even as he wondered whether the sight of the the once-Nation proceeding to hug Feliks was meant to tease him like she used to do, he still grinned. Some things don’t change, huh?  

“Now if you excuse me,” Hungary nodded at the two of them with a coy wink as she turned to leave. “Roderich and my children are waiting for me. Wouldn’t want to let them celebrate the holidays alone! Boldog Karácsonyt!”

“Yeah, yeah, just send Specs and the kids my regards!” the Prussian answered back, only to suddenly lose his breath upon seeing her glancing back at him the exact same way she did in that nightmare.

“And don’t you forget it this time, Gilbert...” the figure whispered before vanishing.

A part of the Nation wanted to somehow show the chuckling Pole next to him a piece of his mind even while trying to get over the shock. Then again…what the hell? The night's still young anyway. He turned towards Feliks.

“Let’s pretend this didn’t happen.”

For once, a playful smirk appeared in Poland’s face. “Like, whatever. Now where were we?”