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Flying. He missed it so much, that peace, that freedom. His wings. To just go anywhere he wished with no hindrances. Not being forced down by anyone, not even other nations. Being free to spread his wings, the wind under them, seeing all those wonderful landscapes from up high, like a bird of prey. And there was nothing more beautiful than when the sun started to set over the horizon and bathed the earth in a soft orange light. But this was the past... A time where he had still been so carefree... Before they were forcefully torn off, along with everything else that made him feel pure joy.
No matter how many years have passed since then, no matter how long ago it has been, Poland never forgot the pain as sharp blades ripped through flesh and bones. He never forgot the sickening sounds, of things breaking inside of him while blood spurted out. His screams were engraved into his memory, only growing louder and more desperate once his beloved wings finally got severed from his body and landed on the floor before his feet in a pool of red. Those wonderful wings, his pride and joy, which he took such good care of. Even now, he could remember them so clearly as if he was staring at them right now. Soft but warm.
Lifeless. Torn. Ugly. Unnatural. Disfigured. And no matter how hard Poland tried to restore their former glory, to put the pieces back together, his wings would remain mutilated. Remains of what they once had been. All that effort he poured into taking care of them for all these years... Wasted. And the person that has ribbed them from him would never show an ounce of regret. After all, Third Reich never thought Poland deserved them in the first place.
For the cold-blooded dictator, Poland was not worthy of having wings at all. Maybe Reich hated those who were born with wings or, much less, envied them for something he was never allowed to have. Or maybe it was simply about the control over people. Because it was a lot harder catching someone who could fly. In any case, there was only one thing Poland was certain of. If there was a single moment when Reich had enjoyed himself and felt pure delight, it had been when he made sure that Poland would never be able to fly again.
Poland clenched his hand into a fist until he felt his fingernails dig deep into the flesh of his palm. This anger... No. This rage still boiled in his veins even after all these years. He wanted to make Reich suffer just as much as he did. He wanted to show that son of a bitch how it felt when you couldn't do anything to stop what was happening, no matter how desperately you screamed, begging and praying for this agony to end. Yet at the same time, Poland knew it wouldn't bring his wings back either. And Reich was already long gone, leaving nothing behind except his legacy. His legacy of violence and terror, of genocide and death. And... He also left his son.
It took some time for Poland to accept Germany. At first, he hated him for what he represented. He was everything that reminded Poland of Reich and his tyrannical reign. For a while, he looked at Germany as if he was looking at Reich himself, like a ghost that was haunting him everywhere, following him like a shadow. Though Poland knew that this wasn't the truth. The younger nation was so different from his father. Despite all the memories and wounds his relationship with Third Reich evoked, Poland could not deny that he really loved Germany. Perhaps that's why it hurt him so much whenever he saw Germany looking guilty over something he hadn't done himself.
Like right now... Poland flinched as two gentle hands touched his shoulders. Ran down his back until they rested on the base of his mutilated wings. When he turned around, he faced none other than Germany, who was looking at him with soft blue eyes full of concern and remorse. "I'm sorry, Polen...", Germany mumbled and leaned in closer, pressing his face against the side of Poland's neck. His breath was warm against Poland's skin, sending shivers down his spine. But in a good way. He liked when Germany showed his affection towards him. However, Poland did not want him to feel bad. Especially not because of something that has happened decades ago, and wasn't his fault.
The fireplace casted dancing shadows upon their bodies as Poland caressed his boyfriend's short hair, feeling its texture with his fingers. So soft. In response, Germany let out a soft noise of content, while Poland closed his eyes in thought. "It was not your fault..." It was late evening, and they were sitting together on the sofa, drinking hot cocoa and eating freshly baked cookies while the radio played some sort of classical music. Everything seemed so peaceful... Just two nations enjoying their night in while the winter winds howled outside. And yet, Poland's mind was drifting back to that time again. A part of him couldn't help it. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw him. Third Reich with his smug smirk and lifeless gray eyes that resembled polished stones. Cold as ice and so empty... How he would always stare at Poland as if he was a prey he caught, knowing it couldn't escape.
"You know... You are not him.", Poland murmured. He felt Germany raise his head, his expression surprised. "I'm sorry that I can't get over the past. It's not that I don't trust you... I do. Believe me, I do... I'm ashamed, actually." He could hear his own voice shaking as he struggled to keep his tears from falling. "Because that's not how I should treat you... Treat us." Slowly but surely, Poland had started to change over the years. For centuries he had been paranoid about having anyone getting close to him for fear they might take advantage of his kindness, and become violent themselves. Yet somehow, Germany managed to break through that barrier. It was just Poland's luck to fall in love with Germany. No matter how many times he had warned himself, no matter how hard he tried to repress his feelings, they just wouldn't go away.
And now they were here... Together, on this couch. Germany made no comment, allowing Poland to speak up freely without being interrupted. He knew that it must've been hard for the Polish nation to say what was on his mind, considering his personality. So he remained patient, silently waiting for the rest. Even though there was an uneasiness inside of him. Of course, Poland noticed it too. "You feel guilty of what your father has done, but please understand that he was not you. There's nothing you have to be sorry for." As Poland moved closer and placed a hand on Germany's cheek, their eyes met once again. With a warm smile on his face, Poland then gently guided his boyfriend's head back towards him, bringing him into a loving embrace.
Germany responded in kind by wrapping his arms around Poland, resting them on his back. Before burying his face into the crook of the Pole's neck again. This time, Poland was aware of his actions. And he didn't pull away. Instead, he allowed himself to enjoy this moment. To feel Germany's warmth as they were wrapped in each other's arms, listening to the crackling sound of burning firewood. "Polen, I will never do to you what he did. I promise. Never.", Germany whispered, and Poland felt his body trembling against him. "I love you." Those words almost made Poland lose control over himself. But still, he managed to suppress those tears of joy and sadness. It was as if Germany knew exactly how he was feeling... How much he needed this... And the German delivered.
With care, Poland leaned in for a kiss, his lips brushing against the other man's with care, until he felt Germany reciprocate. A quiet gasp escaped his mouth, followed by another sigh of relief as the two nations pressed their mouths together, embracing their closeness. "I love you, too.", Poland muttered between kisses as he held onto his boyfriend's arm while they kissed passionately, losing track of time.
He had found peace. There was no need for his wings to fly anymore. For Poland, Germany was more than enough to make him feel free... And safe. He would never let him down. They would protect each other no matter what. Because sometimes, true freedom isn't about the ability to leave one's home... Or where they came from. But rather, to remain with those they care for. Those that made them feel safe... And loved.
His wings were gone forever. Yet at the same time, they weren't. Because Germany gave him new ones.