Son of the Devil

5.July.1936

Germany's age: 2 years 9 month

Reich and Berlin are in the middle of planning the Olympics festival that will happen in August when a delivery servant enters the door and respectfully hands Berlin a telegraph with the words "this just came from our Italian allies. It's important" before turning on their heel to leave the room.

Germany, at this point being nearly three years old and an absolute whirlwind of energy, immediately runs over and tries to climb on reichs lap to get a better look at the letter in Berlin's hand.

Reich just lets it happen, straight up too exhausted to shoo Germany from his lap.

Ever since the small nation learned how to run around there hasn't been a single quiet day in the mansion, despite reich trying to calm down his son with more magical means. It still doesn't fully work on little Germany's developing mind, much to reichs annoyance.

"What does facist Italy want this time?" Reich asks annoyed "another economic treaty?" He guesses to which Berlin shakes his head slightly.

With furrowed brows the state responds with "he urges you to come visit him in his private mansion outside of rome as soon as possible but don't specify why. He says it's important" Looking at the back of the letter confirms there are no additional information.

Great

"Who does this fucker think i am? Some bitch who comes when called?" Reich asks while rubbing his forehead.

"Bich" Germany babbles happily to which Berlin chuckles and reich sighs exasperated.

"How about you visit the Italian, enjoy some of that Mediterranean weather while i take care of the upcoming celebrations." Berlin proposes, gently prying little ger from his fathers arms before the older nations patience wears out.

"Bich" Germany proclaimes proudly, having learnt more how to speak in the last couple of weeks although fully fleshed out sentences are still far away. For a healthy dose of language lessons Berlin has convinced reich that it's beneficial if Germany is listening to their meetings.

"Germany bitch is a bad word" reich reprimands in a full sentence as he never adopted the habit of babyspeak. To be fair neither did Berlin or any of the select handful of people who know of Germany's existence.

"If you can manage to not fuck up the festival planning then i can visit the Italian. Remember we want to show the world that we are proud of who we are, got it?" Reich asks to which his state nods, adding a "yes sir" to the previous nonverbal answer.

"Good" reich mumbles when his eyes catch Germany trying, and miserably failing, to climb onto an unoccupied chair.

Loosing balance the small nation falls to the ground with a painful splat which gives both Berlin and reich just enough time to brace themselves before the little nation breathes in and becomes a goddamn tornado siren.

The loud wailing sound spreads through the whole room in a matter of seconds as Berlin sees reichs eye twitch ever so slightly.

"The trip to the Mediterranean suddenly sounds tempting innit?" Berlin muses, stalking past the other one and lifts up the little child to calm him down.

"I'm leaving in an hour. Make sure the plane is ready." Reich smiles a completely fake smile which Berlin oh so innocently reciprocates.

"Yes sir" he calls out sugary sweet after the other just to rub it in a bit deeper. With a few hushes and gentle pats Berlin manages to calm down Germany till the nation is just snuggling into his arms. Reich doesn't bother to stay long enough in the room to calm down his son. He has more important things to do.

"You sure are adorable when you snuggle like this. Did you know that your dad always was the first to cry when he got tired? He really needed his naps and kept us all awake at night if he didn't." Berlin chuckles silently, thinking back to the times weimar and reich were just lively children.

His own smile fades though at those cheerfull memories.

What has changed?

Where did the energetic and loud mouthed reich disappear to?

Why couldn't weimar have been a bit more greedy and gotten rid of the competition that was his younger brother?

Berlin looks down in his hands at the thought. He can't remember much of his own childhood, mostly because it has been centuries, but he will never forget what he did to ensure his own prosperity.

Germany pulls him out of his thoughts by wiggling around in his arms, sniffling at the growing bump on his forehead.

"Oh dear that looks like it hurts. Let's grab an ice pack before you turn into a unicorn." He lets Germany grab his finger so both can slowly walk to the kitchen.

Hours later Berlin walks with reich to the door to his limousine.

"I take it you won't do something stupid in my absence?" Reich asks with feigned interest to which Berlin replies a quick "That's your job" before he can bite his tongue. Adding a humble "sir" to it doesn't make reichs raised eyebrow relax even a tiny bit.

"You're a pain in the ass do you know that?" Reich hums in just the right tone that Berlin knows he didn't fuck up just yet. Instead a sly smirk creeps over his lips as he takes a step back and bows down outlandishly over the top.

"I've been told it's my greatest quality." He grins. Reich lets out a pained exhale while rolling with his eyes. "Just make sure the country is still standing when i come back." He waves off his city and dissappears into the waiting car.

Reich hopes the trip to the Italian is worth it.

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I'm alive >:)