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itsagrimm · 2 years ago

Text

Hinterland

König X she/her OC

After a battle, König struggles with getting to safety, wondering how he got here and if he will ever make it home.

This taps into where König comes from and why König is part of the military.

CN: angst, mentions of injury and blood, mentions of death, mentions of nausea & vomit, warzone descriptions, sexual assault, queerphobia and transphobia, this whole thing is steeped in patriarchal themes and violence, violence against women* in warzones, themes of sexual assault and extreme stress situations, hunger and starvation, mentions of rape, bullying, failing in school due to untreated neurodiversity, bad parenting, teen romance and teen romance emotions, untreated mental health issues, i guess i am giving König both Autism and ADHD, getting dead named, mentions of needles and medical procedures, medical inaccuracies (I have researched too much for this already don't expect me to correctly describe a medical facility too)

has kind of a happy end, kind of not.

5,8 k words

beta read by @musigrusi thank you so much 💕

Notes for cultural context:

The name Hannes is a German boys name.

Amalia is named after the Prussian princess Anna Amalie who was known to be an independent woman, a musician and generally well educated. She stayed unmarried her whole life and was a close confidant to her brother king Friedrich II. Her baroque organ is still in use in the church “Zur Frohen Botschaft” in Karlshorst, Berlin. Should you have the chance, check it out, it's beautiful and they play free concerts regularly. Also, Since Prussia under Friedrich II waged war against Austria, the name Amalia low-key mark her as foreign in Austria.

The Perseiden are a yearly meteoric shower visible in the summer months.

The sweat never stopped being a nuisance, dripping into his eyes and down his back. König grimaced under his hood, trying to ignore the thirst in his throat and heat under his armor, and dragged on.

Every time he left a battle, he forgot how punishing physical discomfort was and how harshly it gnawed at his body no matter how much he trained.

Every time he told himself it was the last time that he would go out to kill and get killed in a thousand little ways.

Every time he forgot and returned anyway.

Might have overdone it this time.

He looked down.

The bandage on his leg started to bleed through. And he still had a long way back to base.

It had been his usual employment with his usual rates, enough to buy a house or run a little shop back home. Maybe a bookstore or café where they could sell overpriced coffee to the tourists and have a well curated book selection for the locals.

She would like that.

König banished his thoughts and concentrated on the here and now as he limped on. He was out in the open. Any sniper, hell, anyone with a decent aim and a rock could turn into a problem for him now. He was an easy target and in need of cover, rest, and a pick-up.

Quickly, he scanned his environment. It was a stony valley he had seen a thousand times. No water or settlements in sight. Patches of dried-out greenery littered the barren landscape here and there. Further up, he spotted a couple of boulders ideal for cover from anyone passing through the valley.

It would do.

He moved carefully not to hurt his leg even more and climbed up the stones with practiced ease before sitting down and turning on the radio to call for help.

Static.

No answer.

He tried again.

Static.

Hannah was always the tallest girl in class, sitting at the back of the room while the teacher babbled on about history and war and peace and war and peace again. She looked outside. Spring had started and the nearby trees turned greener by the day, calling to her to-

“Hannah! Die Tafel ist vorne, nicht draußen im Wald!”

She turned back. Her teacher shook her head disapprovingly at Hannah for the interruption, before continuing with the wars. To show her eagerness and to appease her teacher, Hannah grabbed one of her pens and tried taking notes.

1809.

Napoleon had made it here and laid siege to Vienna like the Osman’s before him. At least they had bought the coffee to Austria. Napoleon on the other hand got Hannah only into a particularly boring history class. Little cups of coffee started to litter the side of her history notes. A small graphite-coloured Napoleon trying to grab a cup with his tiny hands half-finished as the teacher slammed down the ruler onto Hannah’s papers and interrupted her art.

“Hannah! Aufpassen!”

König woke up from the cold. The sweat had soaked his shirt and even his heavy armor and layers of tech wear couldn’t keep him warm in the early hours of the day. He looked up into the sky to get some clue where he was only to see clouds hiding any chance of him navigating this way. He needed help.

If he couldn’t get someone to pick him up, he was massively fucked.

Click.

Static.

He spoke into the Radio. No answer.

Click.

Static.

Click.

Static.

Click.

Would someone even tell her where he had died?

He shivered and started to rub his body to get himself warm again.

“Na, Lange, wie ist das Wetter da oben?”

Hannah rolled her eyes.

“Halt’s Maul.”, she dismissed and kept walking as the boys and girls snickered and giggled behind her in the hallway of the school. Her long stride took her quickly out of earshot from them.

“Sorry, are you alright?”

She stopped in her tracks.

A girl Hannah hadn’t seen before, eyed her with shy concern.

“I saw how the others treat you. I didn’t understand. I speak only ein bisschen Deutsch.”, she smiled shyly, “But they looked mean. So, I thought I’ll ask.”

“It’s okay. I am fine.”, Hannah quickly dismissed, hating her own clumsy accent and her shaky voice. She sounded exactly like her father when he tried to explain some lost hikers the way back to the town, overwhelmed and nervous.

They stared at each other, Hannah feeling the awkward silence creeping up her neck as the pretty girl fluttered her lashes at her expectantly.

“Thanks for asking.”, Hannah added in an attempt to break the uncomfortable quiet between them.

“It was nothing. What’s your name?”

“Hannah. I’m in class 10-b. What is yours?”

“Amalia. I’m in 10-a.”

“Nice to meet you, Amalia.”

Another weird pause in which Amalia waited for Hannah to say something.

Oh Gott.

“Would you like to have lunch together, Hannah? It’s lunchbreak and I don’t know where the cafeteria is yet.”

Hannah smiled.

Showing the new girl around. And she was nice.

“Sure.”

The pebbles under his feet made his walk harder and König kept stumbling while he pushed himself further down the valley and into what must be north towards the US base. Back home he had a map with a pin for every base he had visited. There were a lot of pins over their sofa in that map, and sometimes she teased him about pins possibly falling down into the cushions of their sofa and pricking them into the ass.

He smiled at the thought of her little delightful ass.

Sometimes she lamented different things - like him going to add more pins.

Might not make it back and add a pin this time.

Amalia was from the US. Her father had worked for the military in Ramstein where her mother was from. They had lived in a couple of places around the world, always on the move following her father’s station until her mother had enough and they ended up in Austria because of some distant relative and a job. It was like that sometimes.

Hannah did not care about the whys and ifs.

She only cared about Amalia being here now.

“I am so envious!” Amalia called out as they walked through the town from school, “you always lived in a beautiful place like this.”

Hannah snorted.

“You think it’s pretty? It’s mostly just boring. Nothing ever changes.”

Amalia took Hannah’s hand and pressed it with unbroken excitement.

“You are just feeling like nothing changes but I bet, there have been plenty of changes.”

Hannah looked down at Amalia’s hand in hers. It felt good.

“This town is a few centuries old”, she said, “The house my family lives in has been in the family for over 200 years now. And even back then we were known as the tallest from around here, so it’s built higher.”

“That’s so cool.”

“That’s so repetitive. It’s like living my ancestors’ lives without ever breaking away from their paths. The furthest I ever got was Munich for a school trip. Even my name is from a great-grandmother and a family tradition. You on the other hand-“

“I have been to military bases”, Amalia protested and interlaced her fingers with Hannah’s while dragging her onwards, “Honestly, they are all the same wherever you go. I’d rather be here instead of looking at ugly barracks, guns, and buff dudes with tattoos and too much testosterone.”

Hannah grinned.

“Are buff dudes not your liking?”, she teased.

Amalia giggled.

“Some are okay to look at.”

After a day of walking, he made it to a settlement. Waiting for the twilight to give him cover he rested behind some boulders and observed the handful of buildings. It was a simple farmhouse surrounded by with a few sheds, huts and a well. He heard voices speaking a language he did not understand, an older man was sitting in front of the house resting and looking after a little kid playing on the ground. The elder spoke tenderly to the child and the child answered sweetly, sometimes with laughter and sometimes with the unmistakable higher pitch of a curious question. A woman worked the farm, running around and finishing the days business. She looked tired, thin, and worn out.

No Fighters. No younger men.

Briefly, very briefly, König considered leaving. Disrupting this family’s warzone lifes with more warzone stench, made him uneasy.

Killing during a battle was simple. This was not.

But he needed bandages, food, and water.

His battered body and mind made the decision for him. Hunger brings out the worst out of men. Hunger and the hope of getting back home. He reached for his rifle.

The halls in Amalia’s house were littered with pictures of her family. Smiling children, dutiful wives, stern looking men in uniform. Was this how family is supposed to be? Hannah didn’t know, barely daring to call her own home a family.

Amalia was easy to recognize in several of the pictures, she had that shy pretty smile with the excited glint in her eyes since she was a child.

“Who is that?”, Hannah asked, pointing at one of the men in uniform.

“Oh, that’s my cousin. He is a marine.”

Hannah nodded. Marine sounded important. Militaristic. Far away from little town Austria.

After the family retreated into the farmhouse König crept closer. With his rifle ready he sneaked to the well for water, quickly refilling his canteen and quenching his thirst as silently as possible before moving past the little shed with some hens and through a simple garden, with plants fighting to stay alive in the midday heat, before reaching the door. A little bell was next to the door. He reached for it and stilled.

He was a soldier. He knew he was a terrifying sight with his hood and his height and most importantly - his rifle. Should he really do this?

Before he could decide, the door opened, and the woman cried out in fear and surprise.

Trained instinct took over and he aimed his rifle, moving himself into the house and pushing the woman back while checking the room for targets.

It was a kitchen. The old man was sitting at the table leaning before the child to shield it while staring up at this giant intruder with the hood and the rifle, staring up at König in fear. The child whimpered and the woman talked and cried as she got up from where König had pushed her.

“Quiet!”, he roared, and they all stilled.

Another check for enemies, he did not expect to find but the practice was too ingrain in him not to.

“Quiet”, he repeated breathlessly.

Schnipp. Schnapp. Ab.

Mother had disapproved of Hannah cutting her hair, sending her to her room without dinner while her father just shook his head disapprovingly.

“Du siehst aus wie ein Junge. Furchtbar.“

Hannah just stood up from the family table and left, thinking to herself that looking like a boy was not the worst thing she could be.

Climbing up the stairs in the old farmhouse, skipping the one that creaked loud like an old pine tree during a heavy storm, she thought about mothers’ words.

Cutting off her hair had been an unexplainable need. It was so quick. She barely registered how it cut free from the weight of those blond plaits of hair. Carefully, she reached up and touched her head, her fingers gliding easily through her soft short strands now. Like a boys.

“Quiet.”, he repeated in his normal speaking voice, his eyes darting around the room and trying to see the woman, the elder and the toddler at the same time while gripped his rifle to keep his hands from shaking.

“Do you understand me? Verstehen Sie mich? Me comprenez-vous?”, he tried thinking of any other way to communicate, he wasn’t even sure in which country he was right now. Every warzone looked the same after a while.

“Yes.”

It was the woman.

“Yes, I speak American. I speak English”, she continued, “Leave son alone. Leave father alone. Please.”

Nausea swept through him, and he felt the sour taste of vomit rise in his throat. The sound of the woman begging him hit him harder than a kick in the stomach.

“Please, please!”, she continued leaning towards him, “You want me! Take me! Leave son alone! Leave father alone!”

“No!”, he tried to calm her and himself, “I don’t want to harm you. Or your family. No danger. No harm. See!”

He lowered the rifle while lifting one of his hands to show his intends.

“See!”

She started tearing at her dress. “Take me! Leave son alone! Leave father alone!”

König stilled, mortified at the sight of the woman in undress and begging for him to not harm her family.

He swayed back.

“No! Don’t!”, König tried to stop her from undressing further, fighting his own battle training to keep focus on everyone in the room while avoiding seeing the woman’s bare body.

I shouldn’t be here. I should be home.

It was too much. The disgust in his stomach flared up sharply, and he hated himself for coming to this house, this country, this continent – for disrupting a family’s dinner and terrifying a woman so much that she was willing to offer herself to a random soldier just to save her family.

He tore off his glove and lifted his hand.

“NO! Don’t worry! See-“, he wiggled with his fingers in a macabre comedic way to show the ring he wore, “I am not going to rape you. I am not going to kill your family. I just need help to get home. To my wife.”

Hannah had climbed out of the window again. It became a habit of leaving late at night to stroll through the forest before navigating her way to Amalia’s house. And it was better than feeling locked up in her childhood bedroom again.

With practised ease Hannah climbed over the fence and checked for light in Amalia’s window before throwing a pebble against it.

“It’s late!”, Hannah whispered as silently as possible while also trying to be as audible as possible for Amalia.

“Yeah, and you are marauding around. Shouldn’t you at least try to sleep before school?”, Amalia shot back from upstairs.

Hannah shrugged.

“I will be a farmer no matter if I pay attention in school or not. Why are you up this time?”

Amalia giggled.

“Studying. I want to go to university. I need good marks. And my German is still shit.”

“Oh.”

Amalia would leave one day, for a different life. Away from the pretty town in the countryside that was so stuck in time.

“Hey.”

Amalia sounded different, nervous.

“Hannah, uh…”, She leaned down closer, “Can I kiss you?”

The words struck Hannah like lightning. In Hannah’s mind it felt like an impossibility for her to kiss a girl, to kiss Amalia with her nice smile and her kind teases and her soft hand holding Hannah’s and the way words rolled off her lips and-

“Yes.”

Who cares about possibilities.

König stumbled outside and puked right next to the entrance, retching what felt like his guts onto the stony ground.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here at all. No soldier should.

After his stomach was empty, he heaved heavily for air before standing up again and wiping his mouth with the gloved hand.

Scheiße.

“Man?”

He turned around. It was the woman, peaking fearfully through the door at him, holding her dress together with her hands.

“Sorry”, König gesticulated at the puddle of puke.

“Ok.”, she just replied flatly as if anything was ok.

He cleared his throat.

“I am sorry.”, König repeated,” I just need a new bandage, some direction and maybe some food. I will leave right after.”

“Ok.”

She repeated and closed the door, leaving him to wait outside.

He couldn’t blame her. To calm himself he started checking his rifle out of habit, while monitoring the dark garden and surrounding valley.

Could he trust her? Was she just getting her weapon to shoot him out of fear? Or rat him out to whoever was in charge in this area?

It’s not like he had a choice. The wound on his leg throbbed, he was lost and out of rations.

Nervously he drummed against the rifle, eyeing every shadow with suspicion.

After a few minutes the door opened again, and the woman stepped outside. She had a jacket on now, a couple of acidic smelling rags in her arms as well as some kind of bread. With as much distance as possible she passed the things he had asked for to König and he took them with a nod.

“Thank you.”, he mumbled.

“Directions. Yes?”, she asked coldly, ignoring his words.

“Yes.”

“You go there.”, she waved into the direction König had assumed the next US military base.

He nodded again.

She looked at him, before turning around and stepping to the door.

“Leave.”

He heard the door getting looked and a chair dragged in front of it after she closed it behind her.#

“Zieh dich an, Hannah! So kannst du nicht zur Feier.”, the mother ordered.

Hannah just looked at her and the dress she was holding.

“Nein.”

“Hannah!”

It was Sunday. A cousin was getting married. With the church and the whole family and flower girls and a white dress.

But not with Hannah in a dress.

“Wenn du dich nicht fertig machst, kannst du auch nicht mitkommen.”

“Okay.”

It was a clear calculation: no dress, no piece of the wedding cake, no Hannah in the family pictures.

She could live with that. If she had to wear a dress, she wouldn’t go.

Silently she got up and left her parents to go to her bedroom - her mother still staring at her disapprovingly and her father mildly uninterested in his wife’s attempts to raise his daughter.

It was sunny outside, beautiful. She didn’t even wait for her parents to leave before climbing out of the window and sneaking away.

The forest was humming with life as Hannah walked through it before making her way to Amalia’s house.

Amalia was sitting in the summer sun in the garden and studying. As always.

“You know, we have a gate in the fence if you feel like not showing off how tall you are, Hannah.”, Amalia greeted with a smile.

“I’m not showing off. It’s my natural grace to jump fences like a gazelle”, Hannah shot back, before kissing Amalia and taking a seat at the table on the garden veranda.

“More like a giraffe with your long legs”, Amalia scoffed.

“Either way, do you want to go for a hike today? It’s nice in the forest.”

“You should become a ranger like my uncle or a soldier like my marine-cousin with your never ending need to be in the forest and on the move. You would be the queen of the mountains! The most feral one out there”, Amalia stated and shook her head, “I can’t! I need to study.”

Hannah chuckled while getting up again, “Alright, have fun studying.”

“Wait!”, Amalia called.

Hannah turned back while Amalia reached over the table to kiss her.

“Be safe out there.”

The bread felt like the best thing König had eaten in weeks. With his stomach emptied and the sour taste of acid on his tongue it felt like a piece of heaven in his mouth. He knew it would only keep him satisfied for a short time. But it would give him strength to get himself to the base.

Next, he looked at his injury. Hidden between two boulders a click away from the house he sat down and took out his emergency light. Turning it on the lowest setting he quickly checked his wound. It was deep and due to the lack of fresh bandages and only his minimal first aid so far, slightly infected. Grimacing from the pain he started putting the rags onto the open flesh. It wasn’t ideal but the acid would keep the bacteria at bay while the rags protected the wound from dirt getting into it.

At least he hoped so.

Tired, so, so tired he reached for the radio and turned it on.

Click.

Static.

“Hello?”

No answer but static silence.

Click.

They were laying on the grass staring into the summer night, holding hands, and watching as the Perseids flared up and gifted them one shooting star after another.

“Hannah.”

“Hm?”

“I’m cold.”

Wordlessly Hannah moved closer and embraced Amalia with her taller, bigger frame, steeled from working her father’s farm, rubbing her sides to warm her up.

She giggled and kissed Hannah, “Thanks.”

The grass they lay on was green and starting to get wet from the morning dew as the milky way glanced beautiful and disinterested down at them.

Soon they would have to leave, part. With Amalia returning home and walking to the front door of her family’s neat little house. And Hannah climbing back up through the window of the old farmhouse.

Hannah sighed, nervously making a fist, and relaxing again to calm her nerves.

“Can I be your girlfriend?”, Amalia asked into the silence before Hannah had even started to search for the right words.

“Yes! I-“

Hannah paused, not sure why.

“Hannah, love, what is it? Did I say something wrong?”

Amalia sat up and looked down in concern to Hannah.

“No, I-“, Hannah closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing, “Can you stop calling me Hannah?”

Amalia paused. “Okay. How else am I supposed to call you?”

The other girl let her shoulders sink and dropped her head. “I don’t know. I keep getting told I am a boy-ish. That a Hannah would be different than who I am. And I know it’s mean. But I don’t think they are wrong.”

Amalia’s fingers were cold as she reached out and touched the other one’s shoulder, rubbing little soothing circles before scooting closer and turning it into a full embrace.

“If Hannah does not work for you, let’s try out other names, okay?”

Nodd.

“I am not very creative and maybe I don’t understand you correctly. How do you feel about ‘Hannes’?”

Nodd. A choked sob came out of Hannes as he leaned into the embrace, feeling many things as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Let’s try it out then, Hannes.”, Amalia whispered and hummed, slowly rocking him in her arms until his sobs stopped.

He stayed anyway, her arms around him feeling like the strongest thing in the world holding him under the stars covered summer sky until he felt Amalia shiver.

“You are getting cold. I am sorry for keeping you here.”

“Don’t be. I have a boyfriend who will give me his jacket and rubs my arms to warm me up now, you know.”

A surprised laughter escaped him as he took off his jacket for her.

“Yes, you have.”

The sun rose mercilessly into the sky over König, turning his world from shivering darkness into blazing clarity about his situation. Weakly, he lifted his head, took a few sips from his canteen, and summoned his strength to grab the radio.

Click.

Static, the eternal static that never bothered to answer him.

He asked anyway: “Hello, anybody out there?”

Static.

He was about to turn it off again as finally, after days of dragging himself through the dust and stone, an answer.

“This is Claris Airfield speaking. Claris Airfield speaking. Please identify yourself.”

Another night, another sneaking out of the window, another walk through the forest.

For the first time in a long while Hannes walked the familiar paths with light feet.

It felt right, the road felt right, he felt right as he hiked the short road down the mountain to Amalia’s house.

The window to her room was open and Hannes climbed up to her room with practised ease, knocking at the glass to alert her to his presence.

“Hannes!”, she greeted him from her bed while putting down one the current of many books she read.

Peeking into her room he smiled and asked, “Can I come in? I couldn’t sleep and I missed you.”

She nodded and waved him inside, making space for him on the bed.

He sat down next to her and pointed at the book.

“What are you reading tonight?”

“A guid handbook for kids from military families about studying. My father insisted on me reading it.”

“Why? I am sure the Universities in Vienna, Graz or Salzburg will be more than happy to have you. Munich or Brünn are not too far away either. There is no need to go back to the US for University.”, Hannes shifted closer to Amalia, putting an arm around her.

She leaned against him, fumbling nervously with the book.

“My Dad…”, she started carefully, “He wants me to study back home in the US. He became strange since the divorce with mum.”

“How so?”

“He…”, she paused, “He became strict, mean. He has many rules and expectations, more than ever. When I mentioned that I had a boyfriend he started questioning me.”

“Isn’t that what dads do?”

“I don’t know. Oh, I don’t know, Hannes. It was strange. I wanted him to stop so I agreed to take a look at universities away from here.”

She pressed into his side, taking his other free hand and interlacing her fingers with his.

”Hannes, I don’t want to leave. But I might have too. Dad … he is the one who can finance my schooling, mum can’t.”

He closed his eyes, thinking about how he felt when Amalia was gone, how he had felt before he had even met her. The solution was as clear and simple as the night sky. If she had to go, he would follow.

“I will always find a way to you, should you want me to, Amalia. Don’t worry.”

The Heli circled over the valley. König tried to get up but felt too weak from the loss of blood after hours of working the radio and slowly bleeding out. A medic had made his way up to him, telling König he got lucky while he worked on his leg. Another medic argued with the pilot of the helicopter how to best move König up.

“Yo, big guy!”, he shouted over the noise from the heli above them, “You need to get up and secure yourself. We lost our stretcher during that last shitshow of a battle.”

Oida.

König groaned and worked himself into a standing position, half leaning against the stone and half getting dragged up by the medic at his side.

“Oh wow, you really are big. What did they feed you as a kid?”

Luft und Liebe.

He kept his mouth shut and concentrated on the ropes before him while the silent medic at his side helped him secure himself as his colleague babbled on.

“For real, the ladies must love you back home.”

“Oh, shut up”, his helper snapped. Must be new, “You think our guy wants to hear you point out something he has heard a thousand times before while bleeding like a pig?”

“I’m just making small talk.”

“Good luck small-talking with a German.”

“I am Austrian.”, König grunted, surprised by his own lucidity and insistence.

The medics stared at him.

“Isn’t that the same as German?”, the blabbermouth asked.

König groaned, unsure if from pain or annoyance.

Amalia had left for the US, just days ago but it like years to him. It was getting cold outside, winter creeping up over the mountains and with it snow, and wind, and darkness.

The familiar forest paths were bare and lonely to wander on. Hannes kept walking there to keep the habit, to not forget the feeling of just strolling down the forest and then seeing Amalia.

His Amalia.

She had given him her phone, saying she would just tell her parents she lost hers so that they could stay in contact. They had talked yesterday. Her voice was a bare whisper as she quietly told him of her journey, describing him all the things he hadn’t seen while trying to not alert her father.

He hadn’t approved. Of course, Amalia’s father hadn’t approved of Hannes. He was just some guy from the middle of nowhere Austria. Amalia had cried after that, telling Hannes only bits of what her father had said about Hannes, apologizing repeatedly and leaving out the most horrendous parts.

Still, he knew.

Hannes had grown up in a little town with his classmates’ pointing fingers at him for his unusual height for a girl, with neighbours raising their eyebrows at the sight of him roaming the forest and fields with town skirts and unkept hair, with his parents becoming bitter and uninterested in him for not behaving like they wanted a daughter to behave.

Of course, Hannes knew that her father called him Hannah and a girl, disapproving of their relationship no matter what Amalia said.

He used to be angry and hurt about it, but the feeling ebbed since what felt like about the same eons since Amalia left.

Now he had better things to do than fighting for the approval of people he only cared little about and who would never change their ways no matter what he did or who he would become.

Fickt euch alle, he thought to himself as he walked down the creaking stairs into the kitchen.

He needed to get out of this town, fast.

And he had to find a way back to Amalia. Hannes knew of a way, thinking of all those men in uniform back in Amalia’s house, her cousins, her uncles, her father - thinking of the power and dignity - and most importantly money - they got for traveling to far away places, wearing uniforms and carring guns. It was nearly funny that the man who disapproved so clearly of Hannes, showed him the easiest way back to his daughter.

“Mama”, he asked while stepping into the room, “Ich brauche deine Hilfe. Kannst du das unterschreiben?”

The mother turned around from the stove, moving what she had worked on to the side, before sitting down at the kitchen table.

“Was ist das?”, she asked, “Wieder schlechte Noten in der Schule?”

He shook his head. No, this wasn’t about school.

“Ich will gehen, Mama. Weg von hier. Ich muss.”

She starred at him, blinking a few times before smiling softly like all parents do when gently but firmly hurting their children with words.

“Hannah.”

He shivered, hating every syllable, and passing his mother a pen instead. He needed her signature to leave. Nothing else.

“Hannah, du kannst nicht weg. Wer soll sonst den Hof machen?”

“Wenn ich bleibe, bin ich lebendig begraben. Gib mir eine Chance zu leben. Lass mich gehen.”

She starred at him, tears coming to her eyes as she reached over the table for the son, she did not know she had.

“Mama! Bitte.”, Hannes said to break the painful silence and pushing aside all those emotions raising their heads like snakes inside him, passing her the enlist document for the Bundesheer instead. He needed this to be done or he might break under his mothers sad gaze.

She starred at him, shaken, and breaking before him, finally putting down the pen to sign his freedom.

König woke up laying on one of the field beds most lazarettos used. His head felt painfully heavy and like it was about to drop through the bed onto the floor. He groaned.

“Konik”, a medic greeted him, walking closer.

He groaned again, not sure if from the oh too familiar mix of pain and annoyance about having his callname so massively butchered or just the pain.

“Konik, glad to have you back. How are you feeling?”

“Scheiße.”, he mumbled, deciding to not argue with someone yielding needles which could aleviate his pains.

The Medic chuckled and started fumbling with an IV bag currently slowly dripping into his body via a catheter in his arm, “I’m adjusting your pain medication. You are a big fella and need a bit more than usual. But don’t worry, we will have you back up in no time.”

He grunted an acknowledgment, too tired to talk much more.

“Ah Mr. Konig-“, the medic called as the medication started to take him out again, “I was told you are getting a nice ride home after this. A littl’ vacation waiting for you so better get well soon and don’t let those at home wait longer than necessary.”

Home, he was getting home.

Finally.

Vienna main station was as unpleasant as every station, a busy place where people ran around to get to their train or forcefully stood still until it was their time to catch the right connection.

Better than Frankfurt am Main or Berlin. Fürchterlich. Ugh.

Vienna generally had a different pace, better suited for Königs still recovering leg.

Venerable and pleasant.

He had learned to love that once he left Austria for the first time. Leisurely, he strolled out of the building, careful to not knock somebody over with his duffel back, and got on the right tram home.

Outside of the rolling tram the houses stared down at him through the window with familiar fronts. König wondered when exactly he had become so accustomed to the sights: A castle here, a Gemeindebau there, cafés and parks he had visited - after all, he had not grown up in Vienna, barely stayed here for longer than a few months at a time, and only moved to the city after getting married - continuing to leave when the need to move became too unbearable to be quenched with runs in the Prater or when running into someone back from the old town and getting called 'Hannah' again.

Vienna had become a sanctuary so fast.

So normal, he could only stand it for short times.

Stepping out of the tram at his stop he decided to make a quick detour for some flowers before finally making the way to the apartment.

Not looking at the names on the bell signs of the house he pressed ‘Kaiser’, their shared family name for years now.

With a quick buzz the entrance to the hallway opened and he stepped into the pretty tilted hall and up the flight of stairs.

He made it half the way up before she bolted down and into his arms, nearly knocking him over and down the stairs again, hadn't he sacrificed the now crushed flowers and grabbed the railing.

“Hannes!”, Amalia cried out as she pressed herself into him, “You're back.”

He embraced her tightly, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms.

“Yes, Amalia, I’m back.”

For now.

something something protect transkids, warzones are full of people CoD conveniently hardly engages with, women* are the first targets in war, neurodiversity has little to no space in our ableist societies unless it can be exploited, the military is shit and preys on those in need, patriarchy needs to go, going to war means not returning as the same person you left as, did i miss something or do you feel like i could have improved some points feel free to send me a message something something criticism is essential to improve

#könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig modern warfare #könig x oc #könig call of duty #könig x you #call of duty #transmasc könig #könig is austrian and that is something i am willing to argue about forever

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weirdestbooks · 3 months ago

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Secrecy and Deception Chapter 2

Victory in Europe (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Event: V-E Day

Location: Karlshorst, Berlin, Germany

Date: May 8, 1945

It was over.

It was finally over.

Germany was finally surrendering—and thankfully, unconditionally. The war in Europe was finally over. Peace would finally be a reality after all that had happened and all that France had been through.

France was so excited.

“Time to sign, Germany,” Soviet said, pointing to the paper that he, America, and France had signed. Germany scowled, anger and hatred in his eyes. France gave him the same look of loathing back.

No matter how much this monster hated it, he had to sign. He would sign his surrender, and then they would dissolve his government, and he would die.

France was ecstatic about that.

Germany picked up the pen, clutching it tightly. Maybe he hoped he could snap it to delay them further. After all, he would probably die after signing, and he certainly had proven he didn’t want to die.

“Sign the damn paper, Jerry, so this can all be over with.” America snapped. Jerry was such an odd name for America to call Germany, but Britain had used it too when talking about him. English was a bizarre language.

“I will.” Germany hissed, spitting out the English words like they were poison to him. He lowered his hand towards the paper, a hand that looked like it was shaking ever so slightly before he signed.

The effect was immediate. Germany paled and dropped the pen as if his strength had been drained. He seemed to collapse into his chair, grabbing the table for support. His breathing was heavy.

“I’ll keep an eye on him. You two tell Britain and his brothers the news.” Soviet said.

“Britain knows what is occurring.” France pointed out.

“Let’s just tell him. It’ll give his old man mind a sense of peace about the whole thing, not to mention he can work on getting the Germans off the Channel Islands.” America said, grabbing France’s arm and pulling her out. Before they left, however, Germany gave France one last venomous look.

“You can let go of me now,” France said, unsuccessfully trying to free her arm from America’s grip.

“Sorry,” he said, letting go. They walked to the room Britain and his brothers were in. America picked up his pace, reaching the door and throwing it open.

“Dad, unconditional surrender of all German troops has just been secured, but unfortunately, Germany isn't dead,” America said, gliding into the room with graceful steps.

Almost everyone in the room stared at America after hearing that as America had never called Britain dad, at least not as long as France had been alive.

“What? Why are you all staring at me?” America asked, noticing the stares.

“You called me Dad,” Britain said, his voice full of disbelief. America slapped his hand over his mouth before removing it, laughing nervously.

“What, no, you must be hearing things. You are an old county.” America said. Britain raised an eyebrow, and America began running the back of his neck before he spoke, his voice quiet. “I…I…I started calling you dad mentally after Yalta. I…didn’t mean to say it out loud. It’s just…I dunno...”

Britain exited his seat, knocking Northern Ireland to the ground, who flipped him off. Britain pulled America into a hug.

“Britain, are you crying?” America asked, his body language becoming more stiff.

“Oh, you are not calling me Britain after calling me Dad,” Britain said, tightening his arms around America.

“I’ll call you whatever the hell I want, old man,” America responded, trying to loosen Britain’s grip on him, some strange emotion in his eyes.

“And what do you want to call me?” Britain, pulling himself out of the hug.

“I plead the fifth,” America responded.

“What does that mean?” Britain asked, looking just as confused as France was. America rolled his eyes.

“Europeans,” he said, shaking his head, although there was a fond smile on his lips.

“It means Europeans?” Scotland asked with a smirk. France laughed, something about Germany surrendering having lifted a weight from her shoulders, making it easier to laugh and smile.

“What? No! Don’t be stupid.” America responded. America and Scotland quickly got into a dumb fight over this, but they were smiling, so you could see the fight wasn’t because they were mad at each other. Wales was egging them on, as Wales does, and Britain was watching with a fond smile, looking the happiest France had ever seen him. It was clear he was pleased about America calling him dad again.

It was a welcome change from all the violence they had seen in the war. The war was over.

Finally, finally, finally, they could have peace.

If nothing goes horribly wrong, but then again, what could be worse than this war we had just gone through and all the horror that had come out of it?

————————————

Event: Potsdam Conference

Location: Cecilienhof Palace, Potsdam, Allied-Occupied Germany

Date: July 17-August 2 1945

America felt like he didn’t mention he hated politics enough. But politics are awful. And it’s not made any better by the fact America was in a lot of pain due to the lovely new injury he got while fighting on Okinawa, an injury that made President Truman nervous.

Most likely because President Roosevelt had passed away in April, and if the country died, well, that would be a crushing blow to their people, especially after the joy they experienced on Germany’s surrender.

Thankfully, Virginia was with America, though disguised, of course, to help America. Since President Truman wanted to take no chances, he stuck America in the wheelchair, and Virginia was wheeling him up to the building. America hated being stuck in it.

“Dad, you are staying in the goddamn wheelchair so you can heal.” Unorganized Territory said.

“Ginny, I can move the wheelchair myself,” America told his daughter.

“Don’t try that with me, Fa—Mr. America. It’s my job to ensure you don’t make that injury any worse with your stubbornness.” Virginia responded. America exhaled, crossing his arms. He didn’t like being wheeled around like he was helpless, and he didn’t like being called Mr. America. He was pretty sure Virginia was just doing that because she knew it would make him mad.

“Also, because she needs to pretend to be a human,” Caleb said.

“Oh my god, America?” America heard his father’s voice from behind him. America sighed. He and his dad had patched some things up in the days following Germany’s surrender, and his father was back to being his overprotective self even though America was perfectly capable of handling himself.

“Are you?” Unorganized Territory asked.

“Ginny, spin me around,” America ordered.

“No. Wait for Britain, you impatient fuck.” Virginia replied. America flipped her off and began trying to move the wheelchair himself. Virginia sighed and let go of the wheelchair, making it easier for America to turn it.

“Hi, Dad. Please convince her I don’t need to be in this wheelchair. It’s really annoying.” America said. His father looked shocked and concerned.

“What happened? Are you okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine. Got shot in the leg in Okinawa, and everyone’s insistent that I need this wheelchair. I think I’d be fine on crutches.” America said. Virginia snorted.

“Not everything you think is true. This is for your safety, so we don’t make anything worse,” she said.

“I think you should listen to her,” Dad said. America crossed his arms.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Just shut up and stop making things harder for Virginia,” Caleb said.

“No, you can’t,” Virginia responded.

“Yes, I can. I know my limits, so I’ll be fine.” America said. Virginia shot him an incredulous look.

“You do not know your limits,” Virginia said.

“I do! I swear I do!” America insisted. Dad sighed.

“You can argue about this after the conference. We have a meeting to get to.” Dad said. America nodded, and Virginia began pushing his wheelchair forward.

“Oh, come on, just let me do it!” America exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.

“America, just let me do this,” Virginia said. America sighed as they entered the Cecilienhof Palace. They really liked having those things in palaces. Virginia let go of his wheelchair upon seeing Soviet waiting for them.

“America? What happened to you?” Soviet asked. America smiled and wheeled himself towards the communist nation.

“Got shot. You’re still coming to help us with Japan soon, right?” America asked. Soviet nodded.

“Да. Hopefully, next month at the latest, if no unforeseen complications arise.” Soviet said. America nodded. That was good news. Now that American troops had taken Okinawa, the next target was the main Japanese islands. If the island-hopping campaign had proven anything, it was that taking the main Japanese islands would be one hell of a fight. Soviet’s help would be greatly appreciated, although America wasn’t sure about President Truman’s thoughts.

President Truman was a lot more suspicious of Soviet and his intentions. He saw Soviet’s actions in Eastern Europe as aggressive expansionism, which was an understandable viewpoint to have, especially since James had the same one. However, from America’s experience, and from the fact that he trusted Soviet, to an extent at least, America would place his faith in Soviet and say that his actions were not expansionism but rather worry over his safety.

“I think you need to listen to James more. He’s only ever been worried about your safety.” Unorganized Territory commented.

It wasn’t like America didn’t have his doubts, especially concerning Soviet’s actions in the Baltics. Hopefully, America would get a chance to talk to Soviet about those doubts during this conference.

“Hey, Ginny? It's not that I don’t trust you or anything, but can you leave while we have our meeting? Come back in a couple of hours, and you can babysit me more than,” America said. Virginia rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn’t have to babysit you if you proved you could be trusted to care for your own health,” Virginia said before leaving.

“Great, she’s gone; let's see if I can stand up,” America said, getting ready to push himself out of his chair. His dad put his hands on America’s shoulders and held him down.

“I’m starting to understand why your government gave you a babysitter, America. Sit down before you hurt yourself.” Dad said. America rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt myself. Let’s just have this meeting.” America said, wheeling himself over to the room where they were supposed to be having the discussions. America would figure out how to get out of this wheelchair eventually.

“When will you be out of the wheelchair?” Soviet asked. America shrugged.

“When the doctors say it’s safe for me to use my leg without worsening the injury. I don’t know when that will be, as I’m not a doctor. Which is a skill I should probably learn at some point…” America said, trailing off as that thought occurred to him.

“You’d also get out quicker if you stopped trying to stand up,” Rebecca muttered.

“England learned medicine mainly because he hated visiting the doctor whenever his jaw pained him. It’s made it easier for him to take care of himself.” Dad commented.

“What happened to his jaw anyway?” Soviet asked.

“I happened to his jaw. Broke it during the Battle of Bunker Hill. That was a battle during my War of Independence.” America explained.

“Massachusetts is going to yell at you about stealing the credit for his auctions later.” Unorganized Territory laughed, even though they both knew that America only took credit because they couldn’t say it was Massachusetts without looking insane.

“You certainly did a very good job breaking it if it’s still bothering him over a hundred years later,” Soviet said.

“I think I broke it twice. Anyways, as interesting as my uncle is, he's not why we’re here.” America said.

“I wish he were what we were here to talk about. It’s much more fun to complain about my brother than to discuss how we plan to fix Europe,” Dad said. America snorted.

“Dad, Europe is broken beyond repair. We’re just trying to make it function so it doesn’t implode again,” America said.

“I agree with America,” Soviet said. Dad gave him a confused look.

“You’re European,” Dad said.

“Eurasian technically.” Soviet pointed out. Dad rolled his eyes.

“You’re still a little bit European.” He said.

“Alright, let’s get back on topic before we waste the whole day discussing this. The first topic is obviously Germany and how we are dealing with him and his country. We have the plan from before on how to occupy Germany, with France and us, so are we all still in agreement with the map we agreed on in Yalta? And what about the arrangements in Austria?” America said, hoping to bring them back on topic.

“Yes, I don’t have any complaints. Soviet?” Dad asked, turning to face the union. Soviet shook his head.

“Alright, then. We need to figure out our aims for the occupation of Germany and what we hope to achieve during it. Obviously, we are demilitarizing and denazifying the country,” America began.

“Yes. We should abolish their military and secret police, which France said caused her problems. What was it called again?” Dad asked.

“The Gestapo,” Soviet answered.

“Right, that. We should also abolish the SS, and the SA, and anything or anyone that keeps their military tradition alive.” Dad said.

“We should also decentralize, decartelize, and democratize the country,” America said. Soviet blinked, looking confused.

“What? What does the middle word mean? I’ve never heard that before.” He asked.

“It means we transition the national economy from monopoly control by groups of large businesses to a free market economy,” America clarified. Soviet nodded.

“Those are also good aims. We really have a lot to accomplish here.” He said.

“On the topic of democracy, we should also destroy the Nazi party and any afflicted organizations. It’s clear that the Nazi Party will not allow for a democracy in Germany, so in order to reconstruct German political life in a democratic state, that party has to be gone.” Dad said.

“Agreed. We should also abolish Nazi laws as well. If we destroy the party, we must destroy what they’ve done.” Soviet said.

“Definitely. The laws establish discrimination on grounds of race, creed, and political opinion and cannot be accepted as part of a democratic country.” America said, knowing he was being slightly hypocritical due to several laws the states had and Executive Order 9066.

“It’s not really the same,” Caleb muttered.

America pushed those thoughts aside. His own flaws could be handled later when he was done with this conference and international affairs in Europe and Asia, along with this entire war. Besides, he passed the laws to protect his people, both interred and not, so it was different. America was not doing it out of hate.

“That means we should reorganize the German judicial system based on democratic ideals of equality and justice under law,” Soviet said. America nodded.

“This reminds me too much of the Constitutional Convention,” America muttered, thinking back to the creation of his current government. It was similar but also very, very different.

“At least with the Constitutional Convention, we knew that most of the people making decisions didn’t risk betraying us,” Caleb pointed out in a bored tone.

“Nazi Party members who hold public positions and oppose our postwar aims should be removed from office and replaced by officials who are in support of a democratic system,” Dad said.

“We should try to prevent most of them from gaining positions of power again, to prevent Germany from starting another world war,” Soviet said.

“You have a point, but I don’t think most officials will be able to do much after they are put on trial,” America pointed out. Soviet shrugged.

“That’s also a fair point.” He said.

“When we get rid of the Nazi party, we also need to encourage the existence of democratic parties in Germany. So Germany needs to have the right of assembly and public discussion.” Dad said.

“The freedoms of speech, press, religion, and religious institutions should be respected as well, as should the formation of free trade unions,” America pointed out. Dad nodded.

“Those two things do tie into each other. We should ensure those freedoms in our respective zones.” Dad said, “Soviet?”

“I agree. Those will help eliminate what the Nazi party has done, as long as we control the education system to eliminate fascist doctrines and to develop democratic ideas.” Soviet explained.

“Oh, I had forgotten about schools. Good point. Schools would teach the Nazi party ideals.” America said.

“We also have to reverse Germany's annexations. Sudetenland needs to be returned to Czechoslovakia, Alsace-Lorraine needs to be returned to France, Austria needs to exist again, and the westernmost parts of Poland need to be returned,” Dad said.

“Soviet, you wanted to keep eastern Poland, so do you know exactly how much Poland will be getting,” America asked. Soviet nodded.

“The Oder-Neisse line. Germany will be reduced from its size in 1937 by about 25%. If you agree on that new border, that is. I would also like to take Königsberg and the adjacent area.” Soviet explained.

“I’m okay with that border. America?” Dad said. America nodded.

“Speaking of borders, we need to have expulsions of the German people who live outside the new eastern border of Germany, in Poland and Czechoslovakia. Along with the German people in Hungary.” Soviet said.

“Are you sure? Not every German person is responsible for what Germany and his officials did. Are you sure this is a necessary action?” America asked, not liking these actions. This war had caused enough damage to people’s lives. Did they really need to make it worse? Dad looked just as skeptical as America.

“It’s necessary to ensure the safety of the people who live in those countries.” Soviet insisted.

“Is it? People could die or get hurt doing that. You can’t expect them just to pack up their lives and leave,” Dad said. America felt a sense of deja vu. This reminded him of when Andrew Jackson decided to force the Indians off of their land, even though the court said it was illegal. Sure, what Soviet was saying wasn’t illegal, but America had seen how easily it could go wrong.

“It will be orderly and humane,” Soviet said.

“You can promise that. But will that promise be kept?” America asked, “You can claim all you want, and it’ll be orderly and humane. But if the time comes, will you keep that promise and ensure that it is humane?”

Soviet looked down at Amerrca and nodded. “I will ensure it is humane and enforce that policy with all my power.”

America trusted Soviet, and so did many of his people. But still, there were causes for doubt in his words, like his occupation of the Baltics and his refusal to return Poland to his prewar borders. Should America trust him here?

“I don’t…you should be careful,” Caleb said.

America bit his lip, thinking over it.

“Dad?” Ameirca asked. His father looked just as conflicted as he did.

“If…you can ensure it is humane…” his father began hesitantly. Soviet raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” He said.

“If you can ensure it is humane, then I will support it,” Dad said, his voice more confident. Soviet smiled and nodded.

“Америка?” Soviet asked, turning to America. America exhaled and nodded.

“Make sure it’s humane,” he said. Soviet nodded.

America hoped he didn’t just make a mistake.

——————————————

“Soviet. I have something to tell you while we wait for Dad.” America said.

“Why not tell us both at once? Or are you even informing your father of what you are going to tell me?” Soviet asked.

“Dad knows already. He was informed earlier.” America said. Soviet was informed much earlier than Soviet, considering his father and Canada were both aware of the Manhattan Project as soon as it started.

“Ah. So what is this about?” Soviet asked, sitting down.

“My government has created a new weapon of unusual destructive force,” America said, shrugging.

“What kind of weapon?” Soviet asked, not seeming as impressed as President Truman had thought he would be. President Truman hoped the information would pressure Stalin to concede to their demands regarding Europe's post-war division.

“Oh god, please don’t tell us he already knows.” Unorganized Territory said.

“A very powerful one,” America said as his father walked in.

“Today’s topic is war reparations, and we're finishing up discussions on Germany,” Dad said, sitting down.

“Woo,” America said tiredly, not raising his voice from its normal volume. This was going to be a fun topic to discuss. Soviet gave America an odd look.

“Are you okay?” He asked. America yawned.

“I’m exhausted,” America said. Worry over Japan, mixed with the fact that he had found out North Dakota had been injured in the Pacific Theater, although no one had told America why, had made it hard to sleep. Thankfully, Virginia was harassing Nebraska for an answer, as he was the one who relayed the news to them. Of course, there is the possibility Nebraska doesn’t know and found out from one of the twenty-two other states in the Pacific.

“I can take control if you want, and you can watch,” Caleb offered.

“Try and get some more sleep then.” Dad said, “Anyways, back to the topic of war reparations.”

“I want to have a claim to German industries in your zones.” Soviet immediately started. Well…that was quite a claim Soviet had just made.

“That’s an insane claim to make.” Unorganized Territory said.

“Do you think that giving him Poland made him think he could claim that?” Rebecca asked.

“And why exactly would we do that?” America asked, giving Soviet a strange look.

“Because we are all occupying Germany, so we should all benefit from the industries,” he said with a smile.

“We aren’t letting you have any claim to the industries in our zones of occupation,” Dad said.

“You could….” America began, thinking again over what he was going to say.

“Are you really giving him more?!” Caleb asked incredulously.

“I could what?” Soviet asked.

“You could revive war reparations from the industries in our zones, so long as you give up those claims to the industries,” America said.

“How much?” Soviet asked.

“What do you mean?” Dad asked.

“How much will I be receiving from these industries?” Soviet clarified. America bit his lip, thinking carefully. He couldn’t just give anything away for free.

“15% of usable industrial capital equipment, consisting of metallurgical, chemical, and machine manufacturing industries from the western zones in exchange for food, coal, potash, zinc, timber, clay, and petroleum products from the eastern zones,” America said.

“And how would I get these materials to my area?” Soviet asked.

“You do it yourself within five years.” America offered. Soviet looked thoughtful.

“I still want some claim to the industries,” Soviet said.

“What about this? 10% of the industrial capacity of the western zones unnecessary for the German peace economy would be transferred to you within two years, without any obligation of further payment of any kind in return,” his father offered. America nodded in agreement. It seemed fair.

“Alright. And your claims on German industries in the eastern zone?” Soviet asked.

“We’ll give them up if you take our offer and give up your claims,” His father said.

“We should also figure out how much we are getting in war reparations,” America added.

“Let’s wait a couple of months. We destroyed a lot of Germany and should wait for some of it to come back before we determine that.” Soviet said.

“Yes. We should also remove industrial equipment from the western zones to satisfy reparations, with the Allied Control Council making the determination of the equipment following policies set by the Allied Commission and with the participation of France.” Dad said. Soviet nodded before adding his opinion.

“He’s back on his France shit again,” Caleb sighed.

“Set a time limit. Do it within two years or so from the determination of reparations.” America’s father nodded, accepting Soviet’s request.

“We’ll be sure to do that. Oh, and we still need to figure out what war reparations Poland is getting,” America said.

“I will settle Poland's reparation claims from my share of reparations. Poland should be excluded from the division of German compensation,” Soviet said.

“Soviet, Poland might be one of the countries that deserves compensation the most out of everyone here. Germany actually occupied him, something the three of us avoided. He should at least get something that we all agree on. No offense, but you haven’t been the best to Poland recently. Even if we let you do that, how can we ensure you do it fairly?” Dad said.

“And James claims that he could never get along with Britain. I’ll be sure to inform him of this the next time we talk.” Rebecca said.

“Well, what do you propose?” Soviet said.

“If you are going to settle Poland's reparation claims with your share of reparations, you should share your own division of German compensation. Say, 15%?” America said. Soviet looked unhappy at that but nodded.

“Fine. Next, we should talk about these industries more in-depth,” he said.

“Well, obviously, we need to destroy or control all German industries with military potential.” Dad began. I nodded.

“Agreed. That will most certainly be part of the demilitarization process.” America said.

“Shipyards and aircraft factories should be a focus, for sure. Either dismantled or destroyed, we can’t let Germans have that kind of power in the future.” Soviet said.

“And on that note, all production capacity associated with war potential, such as metal, chemicals, or machinery factories, should be reduced to a minimum level, which the Allied Control Commission can later determine,” Dad added.

“Yeah, any surplus manufacturing capacity should be dismantled or destroyed as war reparations,” America added again. Soviet and Dad nodded.

“I think we are all in agreement on this. Shall we move on?” Dad asked.

“Yeah. Next, we should consider controlling international trade. Now that I think about it, research should too,” Soviet said.

“We cannot trust Germany with international trade or research. That is definitely something we will implement,” America said.

“Their economy will be decentralized by decartelization and reorganized, with a primary emphasis on agriculture and peaceful domestic industries,” Dad said. America nodded.

“Yes, those industries will prevent Germany from trying to create any type of weapon or raise some form of resistance during their occupation,” America said.

“The types and amounts of industry to be dismantled to achieve that can be determined later.” Dad said, “Are you in agreement, Soviet?”

“Yes. I also have another proposal. The German standard of living should be prevented from exceeding the European average,” Soviet said.

“I agree,” Dad said quickly. That was harsh, as the European standard of living wouldn’t be the best due to this war. And was it the best idea to punish all German people for their government's actions?

America sighed. It was a country that was being occupied due to their actions during this war. This would probably change once they proved that they could behave.

“I agree with this as well,” America said. When Germany’s occupation ended, they could rebuild their standard of living.

“We should also set limits regarding the disposition and future use of the defeated German navy and merchant ships,” Dad said.

“We could assign experts to cooperate on principles invoking that that can be agreed on and announced by our governments,” America suggested. Soviet nodded.

“I like that plan.” He stated.

“Great. Lastly, we need to figure out Austria.” Dad said.

“Karl Renner has set up a provisional government in Austria. I think that the government should be extended to all of Austria.” Soviet said.

“Wait, he had another kid?” Unorganized Territory asked, incredulous.

“After I and my father’s troops enter Vienna, we can examine the proposal. Does that sound good?” America asked. Soviet nodded.

“That sounds good to me,” he said. America smiled. He felt much more confident about today's results than yesterday's. Hopefully, these meetings will wrap up soon. America was very tired of attending them.

——————————————

“We are discussing Poland now. You promised to consider recognizing the provisional government. Will you do that?” Soviet asked. America groaned, leaning back in his wheelchair. This was a very difficult decision to make. America didn’t want to betray Poland and risk his death because of recognition by a new government. But then again, this government, along with the government-in-exile, were probably both keeping Poland alive.

“I will recognize the Provisional Government of National Unity,” Dad said. Soviet smiled and nodded, turning to America.

“Америка?” He asked. America sighed.

“I will also recognize the government, but free elections with widespread suffrage and secret ballots need to be held as soon as possible. Democratic and anti-Nazi parties should be allowed to participate, and representatives of the Allied press should have full freedom to report on developments during the elections,” America said. The Soviet nodded.

“Oh fuck you, America,” James snapped.

“It's understandable that you would want to ensure that. I will make sure it occurs.” Soviet said, “Now this government still needs to take control of parts of Poland that were run by the former government.”

“I’m sure America and I can take measures to ensure for the Polish Provisional Government to own property in the territories of Poland and to have all legal rights to the property so no other government can have it,” Dad said.

“So you set him up to die and then make him give away his land? America!” James ranted.

“Спасибо, that will be much appreciated,” Soviet said.

“All Poles that return to Poland will be allowed personal and property rights, right?” America asked.

“They will,” Soviet said.

“Good. We’ve also figured out where Poland’s provisional western border will be, on the Oder-Neisse line, but should we finalize that border?” America asked.

“We can finalize the border at the peace settlement. It won’t be that big of a deal.” Dad said. America nodded.

“How about we permanently resolve all territorial questions after peace is established in those regions? By my western border near the Baltic Sea,” Soviet Union proposed.

“What exactly does that include?” America asked.

“It includes the eastern shore of the Bay of Danzig to the east, north of Braunsberg and Goldap, to the meeting point of the frontiers of Lithuania, the Polish Republic, and East Prussia,” Soviet said.

“Dad?” America asked, hoping to hear his thoughts on this.

“Königsberg and the area near it. We can transfer that to you if you agree with that, America?” Dad asked. America nodded. Soviet looked a little offended by the offer but accepted.

“Fine. I will accept that.” He said, “I suppose you will be supporting that now?”

“I guarantee I will support the proposal of the conference when peace is ensured,” America said.

“I will as well,” Dad said. Soviet nodded.

“Good. Now let’s move on to Italy, the Fascist’s father,” Soviet said.

“Hey, his son tried to kill him. We should cut him some slack,” Caleb commented nonchalantly.

“What about him?” America asked, knowing that Soviet probably had another one of his proposals.

“I have concerns involving the mandated territories.” He said.

“What about them? We made decisions at the Yalta Conference and the Charter of the United Nations.” Dad said. Soviet scowled.

“Listen, Soviet, we don’t even have a peace treaty with Italy. Besides, Italy fought on our side and is making good progress towards establishing a democratic government and institutions. After a peace treaty, we can support an application from Italy for UN membership.” America said.

“We still need to work out the peace treaty with Italy. Then, we can figure out the situation with Italy’s colonies. Let’s move on to our other issues,” Dad said.

“We should begin our withdrawal from Tehran,” America suggested. His father nodded.

“What about the rest of Persia?” He asked. America shrugged.

“We can figure that out later. After all, this meeting isn’t to make a peace treaty,” America said.

“No, it’s just to betray our allies for a man who’s manipulating us into giving him more power,” James snapped.

“Are you okay with that?” Dad asked. Soviet nodded.

“I’m okay with discussions at a later date.” He said.

“Great. Now, Tangier, the city on the Straits of Gibraltar, except on the African side, I think should remain international land, at least for now, or until we can discuss it further,” Dad said. Tangier used to belong to Morocco, America’s very old friend. America would like it returned to him, but he knew keeping it international was the best decision for now.

“Another friend? Really America? Really, Maverick?” James said, throwing out America’s human name in his anger.

“I agree,” Soviet said as America nodded.

“Speaking of straits, I think the Montreux Convention needs to be revised. But if you two agree, we can discuss that with Turkey's government,” America said.

“Oh, right, we should discuss that with Turkey. Soviet?” Dad commented.

“Да, we should do that,” Soviet said.

“Also, we and I mean we as in the Western-allied powers, need to have input in the Allied Control Commission of Eastern and Central Europe,” America said.

“Why? I’m handling everything perfectly well.” Soviet asked.

“We should be allowed to have input, though. Hostilities in Europe are over, so it’s not just you who has access to Eastern and Central Europe anymore,” Dad said. Soviet sighed.

“Fine. When we have more time, we can work on revisions to the Allied Control Commission tomorrow. Is there anything else anyone wants to bring up?”

“We should probably create, like a council of some, and one that probably includes France and China, to sort out the peace settlement with Germany, which will then be accepted by the government of Germany once Germany has been established. We can call it, like, I dunno, the Council of Foreign Ministers.” America proposed.

“This Council of Foreign Ministers could also handle the peace treaty with Italy and further actions in Tehran and the rest of Persia,” Dad added.

“And peace treaties with everyone else. I like this idea, America. We should work on creating it.” Soviet said.

“Tomorrow. I’m tired, and we’ve already discussed many things.” America said.

“Fine, tomorrow then,” Dad said, standing up. America couldn’t wait to be allowed to do that again. America sighed as he thought back to what they had discussed.

America hoped Poland didn’t get too mad at him for this. America did what was necessary to protect the peace, even though he probably won’t see it that way.

———————————————-

“So I think we are all in agreement that Japan either surrenders or will be destroyed. Am I right about that?” China asked America and his father. Soviet wasn’t here, as he had yet to declare war on Japan. This meeting of the Potsdam Conference was for the three countries currently at war with Japan, as they were going to decide the terms of Japan’s surrender.

“Absolutely. It’s figuring out the rest of the terms that might be a problem,” America said.

“Once these terms are set, we won’t hesitate to enforce them, nor will we offer any alternatives or change our minds. What is set here is set in stone,” Dad said, slamming his hands on the table. America raised an eyebrow. His father always had a flair for the dramatic.

“That was unnecessary,” China commented. America nodded in agreement.

“It was unnecessary, but it was also fun,” Dad said with a small smile.

“Anyways,” America said, wanting to ensure they stayed on topic, “like with Germany, we should eliminate all officials who decide to make Japan embark on world conquest.”

“Definitely. We should also be in charge of designating the parts of Japan we will occupy.” Dad said.

“The Cairo Declaration of 1943 said that Japanese sovereignty shall be limited to the islands of Honshu, Hokkaido, Kyushu, Shikoku, and such minor islands as we determine, so we should enforce that in the terms of surrender,” China said. America nodded.

“Right, we definitely will be returning everyone’s territory when Japan surrenders. And the soldiers…I think once we disarm them, we should give them the opportunity to go home and live peacefully.” America suggested nervously.

“Are you sure? The Japanese have committed so many war crimes against me and probably against you! Why let them live peacefully?” China pointed out.

“I want peace. We can only achieve peace if everyone is at peace. I don’t want to destroy their nation, not if they surrender, although I will do so to end this war. But I want them to be able to recover and become better. All we need to punish is the worst of the worst, the officers that allowed war crimes and the like.” America said. China sighed but nodded.

“You make an understandable point.” China

“I support that point as well.” Dad said, “And like with Germany, we need to remove everything in the way of Japan becoming democratic and ensure freedom of speech, of religion, of thought are established.”

“And ensure they understand human rights,” China added. Dad nodded.

“Yes, definitely that as well.” He agreed.

“We should also allow Japan to have industries that can maintain her economy, give us war reparations, but don’t allow her to gain access to anything that can be used as weapons,” America said. China nodded.

“She should also be banned from world trade until we permit her to ensure she can’t get her hands on any weapons,” China added.

“Indeed. We can withdraw once these goals are achieved and Japan has a better government and hopefully a replacement.” Dad said. I nodded.

“Are we all good with that?” America asked. China nodded.

“I think we should draft it now, and hopefully, Japan will listen and bring this war to an end. If not, well, she knows what is coming for her,” China stated.

“Prompt and utter destruction,” Dad said, looking at America, who nodded.

“I have the means to ensure we keep that promise,” America said.

“Then ensure we keep it,” China said.

“I will. You have my word.”

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