In Colour

  For the first time in years Prussia had his own house. He was moving out of Germany's basement after getting a job at a local television station; the ex-nation was already well on his way to having his own show. Unfortunately for him, being a nation came with a lot of baggage that had to be moved into his new home.

  It was a little blue house on a little green street- much quieter than anywhere Prussia had lived in the past. All his neighbors were young families with white picket fences and old fashioned decor. But Gilbert didn't mind the change of pace. Prussia may have been created to fight, but that didn't mean he liked it all the time.

  Gilbert was just bringing in the last brown cardboard box when a purple ball bounced in his door. A young girl chased after it, her (colour) hair done up with white and gold ribbons. She skidded to a halt in front of him.

  "Oops! I'm sorry sir!" The girl picked up her ball and took a step back. After that she froze though, staring up at him in fear. Prussia didn't blame her. His red eyes were rather scary.

  "You should be more careful Madchen. Your parents will worry if you go running into strangers' houses."

  The little girl coughed and found her voice. "I'm (name)(surname), not Madchen. I live next door."

  Gilbert placed his box on the floor and crouched to look at (name). "It's nice to meet you (name). I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt."

  (Name) looked uncertainly at the huge brown piles of cardboard boxes. "Do you need help unpacking Mr. Beilschmidt?"

  "Call me Gil. Mr. Beilschmidt is my brother." Prussia frowned. "And what did I just say about running into strangers houses? You need to be more careful."

  "But you're nice." (Name) frowned. "You don't feel like a stranger, more like a weird uncle. And your hair looks like Santa!"

  Of course. Idiot. I'm part of Germany now; she can't help but trust me. She's one of mine. Prussia smirked. "The awesome me isn't Santa. Far from it. But if you want to help I won't say no, as long as you're sure your parents will be alright with it." They will be.

I said Grandpa what's this picture here
It's all black and white, and it ain't real clear
Is that you there, he said yeah, I was eleven
And times were tough, back in thirty-five
That's me and Uncle Joe just tryin' to survive
A cotton farm, in the Great Depression

  Prussia gave (name) a box of pictures to set out on the mantel. He couldn't even remember which ones were in it. Some were photographs, but many were paintings from long ago. It had been a long time since he'd seen most of them.

  (Name) held up a small portrait, its colours faded with age. Even so, it was done so well it almost looked like a photograph. It showed two young boys, one barely more than a toddler. The older was pale and covered in bandages while the younger was scared and had eyes full of tears. "Is this you?"

  "Ja, that's me and my brother Ludwig when we were little." Back when Germany was Holy Roman Empire. That was a hard time.

And if it looks like we were scared to death
Like a couple of kids just trying to save each other
You should've seen it in color

  "Why does Ludwig look so scared?"

  Gilbert winced. "Well Liebling, when Luddy and I were little we were very poor and our family was always fighting. The two of us were on our own most of the time. I was older, so I did my best to look after him. Luddy's scared in that picture because I got hurt while getting him something to eat. The man who painted that was the one who bandaged me up."

  I had been stealing apples from Austria. They looked so red and juicy, and Lud and I were so hungry... But I fell out of the tree and ended up being beaten half to death with a cast iron frying pan. The bruises were black, pitch black. I couldn't walk for a week.

This one here was taken overseas
In the middle of hell, in nineteen forty-three
In the winter time, you can almost see my breath
That was my tail gunner ole' Johnny McGee
He was a high school teacher from New Orleans
And he had my back, right through the day we left

  A few minutes later (name) held up another picture. This one was an old photo, fuzzy with sepia tones. It had been taken at the beginning of World War Two. Germany and Prussia were standing in front of an airplane, a Messerschmidt BF110 if Gilbert remembered correctly. They both looked so proud.

  That was before we knew how crazy West's new boss was. We thought we'd found a way to make our people great again... Sure backfired on us. That was one of the last happy days West had for a long time.

  "That's my Vati and my uncle," Prussia said dully. Gilbert wished that wasn't a lie, that it had been someone else there other than him. "They were soldiers. Neither of them liked Hitler or agreed with what he did, but they had to obey him because he had their families. They didn't have a choice."

If it looks like we were scared to death
Like a couple of kids just trying to save each other
You should've seen it in color

  "I- I still have Vati's uniform." My uniform. Prussia opened a box to show (name). She marveled at it, running her hands over the worn, stained fabric.

  "It's blue," she whispered. Gilbert laughed.

  "Of course it is. Did you think that just because the picture's all brown and dull, the people were too? Colours were around long before cameras Liebling. So very many colours."

A picture's worth a thousand words
But you can't see what those shades of gray keep covered
You should've seen it in color

  Silver was belt buckles and an old man's hair. It was a sword that hung unused upon the wall. There was silver in the kitchen, and on guns that had never been used. It was a good colour.

  Red was blood on the battlefield. It was the flag that brought death. Germany's face turned red when he was angry or in pain, and the war left angry red scars on his body. Red was eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and poppies on a grave. It was the colour of the man who'd locked Prussia up for years while his brother tried to rebuild. Gilbert didn't like red.

  Blue was the sky and the sea. Ludwig's eyes were blue again when the war was finally over. There was blue in rivers and lakes and mountain ice; it was the colour of a country that was little more than a memory. Blue was freedom and home. It was Gilbert's favourite colour.

And this one is my favorite one
This is me and grandma in the, summer sun
All dressed up, the day we said our vows
You can't tell it here but it was hot that June
And that rose was red and her eyes were blue
And just look at that smile, I was so proud

  "Who's this?" (Name) held up a black and white photo that had been taken at some art studio just after the Berlin Wall came down. "She's pretty."

  Gilbert laughed. "That's a man Liebling. His name's Matthew. Mattie there is my boyfriend. He lives in Canada."

  (Name) blinked up at Gilbert in confusion. "How can he be your boyfriend when he's so far away? Isn't it hard?"

  "Ja, sometimes. But I see him a lot because of his job, so it works. Besides, I love him." Gilbert gently took the picture from (name) and began to point things out.

  "See the sweater Mattie's wearing? It's green, but there's a bunch of gold stains on the sleeves from making maple syrup. And his eyes are purple. I've never seen anyone else with eyes like his; they're the most beautiful in the world."

That's the story of my life
Right there in black and white

And if it looks like we were scared to death
Like a couple of kids just trying to save each other
You should've seen it in color

  They went through many more pictures, both paintings and photographs. Prussia had forgotten he had so many. Some of them made (name) laugh, like the Germanic family portraits they made every century, or the painting of a young Hungary holding child Prussia in a headlock.

  "You thought she was a boy?" (Name) compared that picture to one where Hungary sat on Austria's lap as an adult. Prussia made a face.

  "Not my fault. Elizabeth was raised by men; for the longest time she thought she was a boy. We were around twelve when I started to think something was odd."

  The last picture in the box was a water colour portrait Italy had done years before. It was Gilbert's favourite, though he'd never had anywhere to put it when he lived with Ludwig. Here though, here it would have a place of honour.

  This painting showed Old Fritz sitting on the edge of a fountain, a young Prussia on his lap looking maybe ten years old. King and country wore matching blue uniforms. In Prussia's arms Holy Roman Empire had been painted as a baby in a white dressing gown. All three figures were shown laughing at something just off canvas.

  It was anachronistic in the extreme. When Old Fritz was his king Prussia's appearance had been that of a teenager and Holy Roman Empire had been a sickly but scrappy kid. Bit Gilbert liked it all the better for its inaccuracy. It showed the life he and Ludwig might have lived had they not been born countries.

  "Is that your grandfather?" (name) asked, pointing at Old Fritz. Gilbert laughed.

  I wonder how he'd react to that? Fritz always said he felt less like the king of Prussia than he did my father.

  "Nein, just a dear friend. I miss him a lot." Prussia smirked. "I think he would've liked you."

Yeah a picture's worth a thousand words
But you can't see what those shades of gray keep covered
You should've seen it in color
(Should've seen it in color)

  (Name) wrapped her arms around Gilbert's waist. "Don't be lonely Gil. I'll be your friend." Then she looked at the picture and frowned. "What colour were his eyes?"

  In the painting Old Fritz had his eyes scrunched shut in mirth. Prussia smiled and brushed his fingers lightly across his king's face.

  "They were blue."