Chapter Text
“Are you sure… that what we're doing is necessary?”
The man looked up from the map extended in front of him. “Why, are you doubting me now?” He approached the blonde, and even if his movements were as swift as ever, his large black boots and his ironed uniform made him look severe and determined. “Didn't you agree with the plans we've made together?”
The blonde bit his lip: even if he was taller and excessively stronger than the brunette one, he was the one slightly fearing the other. “...Yes. But if I may add, I don't really have a choice but to obey you. Hence why I'm asking once more.” The brunette frowned slightly, before his face eventually relaxed. He approched the taller man and put a hand on his shoulder. “What did your brother say about me again?”
The man's blue eyes focused on the shorter's, and he instantly tensed up, as his jaw's muscles contracted. His brother had been his model all his life, for he's the one who raised him, and he saw the many military battles he managed to win. Since he sacrificed, in a way, his individuality for his younger sibling, in order to raise him correctly, the blonde kept feeling that he had a debt towards his big brother. He wanted to be strong, to be as good as he was, in order to protect him just like his brother used to in the past.
Seeing him flinch for a second, the brunette smirked slightly. He knew (and oh so well) how close the bond between the siblings was. And how big of an influence the older could have on the younger one.
“Sometimes, we have to accomplish awful things in order to protect what's dear to us. And to establish justice. Your brother knows that. And so do you.” The shorter man went to the map again, and the taller one followed him suit. “Your goal – our goal -, is to protect everyone here. Your people, my people, our people. To give them the best we can. To serve them. To give them a better future...”
“...'And they can't achieve that goal with the situation we actually are in today'”, the blonde completed the other one's sentence automatically. How many times have he heard this? How many people have told him this? It's as if they were trying to convince him, and it gave him a wary feeling of it all.
But his brother was part of these people. So they should be trusted.
Right?
The truth is that he did went through a lot of things, since his brother let him in charge. He knew what it is, to suffer a lot and to be looked down and then excluded from everything. He faced death, hate, resentment. He saw several of his Ländern being taken from him, even if they, themselves, were protesting against it. He hadn't start that war, but paid most of the price: men, goods, land, money. He didn't remember how many times he groaned about how unfair his sentence was, how many times he considered the fact that they tried to break him – when really, he was already broken.
So young, yet so much hated.
As he had drifted off again, the brunette approached the blonde once more, and put both of his hands on his shoulders, which startled him. “Don't ever forget… That everything I'm doing.. Is for your own good. Our own good.” He held a sympathetic look in his brown eyes: it looks like he had replayed this 'role' and this particular emotion enough time to give this look to anyone doubting him. “We can achieve so much things together. All I demand is your trust. A common trust is needed between a country and their leader, and then… Together...” He tried once again to make the blonde focus on him, and succeeded. “We'll do great things. I'm sure of it. Everyone is.”
He walked away from him and went to his place behind the table. “So?” the blonde raised his head. The shorter man held a slight smile; it was rare of him, for he mostly smirks, but never smiles. “Will you trust me?”
The country took once again the features of the man standing in front of him, at the other side of the thick wooden table. His somewhat greasy black hair was arranged in the same manner as usual, his hands were set firmly on the map, and his brown eyes were determined. The light of the sun, blocked by the fabric of the tent, gave the man a sort of unnatural aura surrounding his figure. The blond knew full well that here was standing a man who could unite his people, and maybe, just maybe, turn things for the better.
What decided him was the feeling that linged in his chest, the one that wasn't properly his: he felt the general feeling of his people, as do all personifications. And they believed in that man.
So why shouldn't he?
“I will.” He had answered straightly, (nearly) convinced it was the right thing to do.
The brunette smirked again. “Very good, Ludwig. Now, now, I believe we'll be going tomorrow morning, at dawn. Go check on your brother if you want, but go take some rest. Our journey is far from over.”
“Yes, Herr Hitler.”