Disclaimer: Hmm, nope. Still don't own Hetalia.

Note: Short thingy is very short...

Germany

Consequences

The war was over. It made no difference that the official word had not been sent out yet. It didn't matter that there were still a few pockets of resistance left. It was over. Germany had lost. The Fuhrer had taken a gun to himself, unable to bear the failure.

It was over.

Germany groaned and covered his face. He hadn't meant for this to happen, never meant for it to go this far. But there were the times…. Things would go badly. His people would become desperate. One man would rise above the people, and speak with the right words.

His people would join together, voices chanting in unison, calling for the blood of those who wronged him. His head would pound, memories of a time long past flooding him. A time of strength, of power, where nobody would dare to cross him. The earth would scream with the dying cries of his enemies.

It should never have gone this far. His people always remembered – he always remembered the times of strength. Always the power, the rush of sheer, unstoppable force. He lost himself in the power, became far more drunk than could ever be achieved by alcohol. And he always forgot how painful it was once he crashed.

1806. He was almost completely destroyed, only surviving through the memories of his people.

1918. Only forty-seven years since his recovery. Of course he had been stupid enough to grow overconfident with his own strength, and with his boss's encouragement he overstepped his bounds. He was destroyed again, torn down to an impoverished republic while the victors jeered at his misfortune.

And now. 1945. He just knew that this time… this time, he would not be so lucky.

They stood before him, neatly arranged into a semicircle, looking down at him with various expressions. China was deathly calm. Russia was smiling in his usual inscrutable manner. England looked almost bored with the proceedings, but Germany could sense a flicker of triumph beneath that apathetic façade. America looked slightly worried.

France was openly smirking. Germany resisted the urge to yell at him, curse to dust the man who was nearly single-handedly responsible for the destruction of his identity as a nation in the past, even when he hadn't been the one to actually defeat him. It would do no good to lose his composure.

"Two World Wars in less than fifty years," England stated flatly. "And I suppose that you have no explanation for this?"

Germany remained silent and shut his eyes, no longer wishing to look at the nations who had beaten him down to this level.

"You must admit," France continued. "That is not the best record a nation can have." Germany flinched as the nation's voice grated across his ears. "Surely you understand that you are too dangerous for us to allow you to live?"

The unmistakable click of a loaded gun.