Prussia's Burial [Poland]

[Weronikus]

A little explanation before you read on. I know the version given by Himaruya is that Prusia lives with Germany now, but the thought for this came to me so suddenly and I just had to write it down. It happened when I was watching Brother Bear with my brother (yeah I still watch Disney movies, got a problem with that? XD) and suddenly saw the picture of this story vividly in my mind's eye. So here, fictionally, Prussia is dead, like dead dead, not living with Germany or anything. After this long intro, enjoy the fanfiction.
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Rain. Why did it always rain when such things happened? Poland thought, looking up to the sky and blinking as another drop hit his nose.

He looked back to the grave with a stony face. Around the white, marble grave stood a small group of countries. Hungary stood the closest, weeping quietly. Behind her, comforting her, stood Austria, with a look of pity and sadness on his face. Next to Hungary stood Germany – who had just finished reading his goodbye letter to him – with a stony face like Poland’s, but with endless grief painted in his blue eyes.

And then all the others who came to the burial – America whispering something about food, England having a glaring contest with France, and Russia standing over them with his annoying smile and an axe in his hands.

Poland looked over all the faces before staring back down to the gravestone. On it, engraved and then covered with black, letters stood out to form a sentence:

Here Lies Prussia
The Most Awesome of All Countries

Quite frankly, Poland was ready to argument whether or not that was true, but he didn’t feel like it now. He didn’t really feel like anything. He didn’t even know why he came here in the first place. What did he care that Prussia was finally gone? One less enemy to fight. So why wasn’t he pleased?

He didn’t feel anything. No remorse, no grief, nor happiness or glee. He felt… empty. As if the passing of Prussia wasn’t just the passing of Prussia – as if he took a part of Poland with him.

Stupid idea, Poland thought.

He should’ve turned. Go back home to get away from that damned rain and continue to live happily without that stupid Prussia knocking on his door to fight. He should go have dinner right now, maybe some pork chop…

He smiled lightly as he thought of what Prussia’s reaction would be – I’m too awesome for pork chop! And then he’d gulp down his whole portion just to anger him.

He shook his head to shake out that thought. Stop it; he thought to himself. He was nothing more than a mere country…

But he was more than a mere country. He was Poland’s most reliable ally, before turning against him as he found stronger friends. He was his deadliest enemy, beating the holy crap out of him in the worst times. He was his friend. He was his nemesis. He was the one who comforted him, to stab a knife in him a hundred years later. No matter how Poland looked at it, their history was constantly weaving in and out, binding them together for hundreds of years…

And now those bindings were suddenly gone. Nobody’s going to run into his house to yell at Poland how much more awesome he is, nobody is going to fight him anymore, nobody will stand over him with that annoying ‘Kesesese…’ escaping his lips…

And Poland felt empty.

Yes, Prussia was annoying. Yes, he was unreliable. Yes, he was deadly. Yes, he caused a lot of trouble to Poland. Yes, he didn’t care for him at all.

But did he like it or not, he was a part of his history. And there will be times when Poland will recollect their times together, their constant fights and sometimes, their shared victory. The thought that Poland will recollect those times alone now, with no laughing country rubbing his head with his fist, wasn’t exactly the happiest thought in the world.

“P-Popo? You… You’re re-ready to g-go?” He heard a quiet sob behind him.
He blinked as he came back to reality. Only he, Austria and Hungary were left.

“Yeah… Like, I’ll totally catch up to you.” He said, smiling to them.
Hungary nodded through her tears and went out from the graveyard, closely followed by Austria.

Poland turned back to the grave, onto which a black marble eagle was perched. He came closer and after a moment of wavering, he patted the eagle.

“Like, I’ll totally miss our times spent together, old frienemy.” He said quietly, smiling a bit. He then turned around and followed Hungary.

He didn’t lie. Was the time spent by laughing together, or fighting…

In his own way, Poland will miss Prussia.