Essence of Demise | ThirdUnion

1: Chapter 1

A tall glass window creaked softly as harsh winds banged against it. The outside world was dark, as gray clouds scattered across the sky.

Germany stared at the window for a moment, almost daring them to open and to flood the room with their crisp and cold air.

The young German blinked silently, contemplating his thoughts before he looked towards the door that stood near him.

He was unsure if this was a good idea, he had no intention of making his father upset with him, yet he had every intention to find out what he was hiding.

Germany sighed deeply for a moment as he took one last glance around the dark room. He had already blown out the candles that the room held, and now the only thing lighting the room was the small glint of the moon that peered through the window, and the little bit of light that peaked out from underneath the door in front of him.

Hopefully this was a good idea. This had to be a good idea.

The young German took a step towards the door and reached his hand out to open it. His father shouldn't be too mad at him, right?

He was just confused and desperately seeking answers. He hadn't meant to disobey him.

Germany closed the old wooden door behind him, it creaked loudly as he did. His father was sure to understand, Germany affirmed to himself as he continued to walk down the hall.

His mind fell to shambles as he did thought, as he watched the dark broken boards under him as he moved silently.

Him and his father were nowhere near wealthy. They were lucky to have a home to themselves. And to have one that was secluded from the nearby towns. The house was small, but it was still something. And it had been the home to the young German for as long as he could remember.

For almost seventeen years he had lived here. And never once had he dared to leave this safe place, as his father had instructed him not to.

Germany continued to walk down the hall, heading towards the small kitchen and connected dining room.

His father had always instructed him to never leave, and always told him that some day, he would understand why. Why were they so secluded from everyone around them?

Germany sighed as he reached the end of the hall, a new form of light and warmth quickly spread across the room. As a warm fireplace boiled a soup that was held over it in an old pot.

Surely his father had no intent of hurting him. Surely he was doing this out of safety for himself. But still, Germany couldn't help but think that his father never had any intentions of letting him leave this place.

The young country looked up, spotting his father roaming around their little kitchen, a little plate of freshly made biscuits in his hands.

The older German turned to look at him, a sharp smile on his face as he did, though as Germany looked at him. He couldn't see his father anymore. There was nothing but a stranger staring at him.

His father ushered him to the dinner table, insisting on getting dinner started, as it would be best for them to get to sleep soon.

His father reminded him briefly of his upcoming birthday. But made no remarks or hints to the secrets that he had been keeping, or to what the people of the streets had been saying about him.

As his father served him, and dinner was started, Germany couldn't find it in him to eat. Not as his thoughts were running through his head, nagging and biting away at him, holding him in a chokehold as they un-allowed him to do anything else but think about them.

"Is something wrong Deutschland?"

Germany looked up from his vegetable soup, looking across the table he could see the face of his worried father, and the warm biscuit that he held in his hand.