Hello, and welcome to the epilogue. Let's get the disclaimer out of the way, shall we? Prussia, as the hero of the story, would you do the honors?
Prussia: Yeah, okay. I'm not excited about helping you anymore, not after all that emotional abuse you put me through.
Me: It could have been worse. I could have put you back in Russia.
Prussia: You wouldn't!
Me: And you know how these Hetalia fanfiction writers love to have Russia torture you.
Prussia: Stop! Stop! I'll say it!
Me: So stop saying you'll do it and do it already!
Prussia: You're unawesome.
Me: Au contraire. I think I'm rather awesome. Anyway, say it already, or I really will torture you.
Prussia: You already did, remember? In The Crucible of Trier in Seven Parts?
Me: Oh yeah. Hehe…yeah. Why did I make the title so long?
Prussia: Unawesome over here does not own Hetalia-Axis Powers or the Awesome Me.
Me: Finally! Thank you, Prussia. Wait. What did you call me?
This is it, I guess. I'm not a country anymore. I'm just…Gilbert. I don't know what will happen to me, and I really don't want to die, but at any rate, it's a new beginning. Brandenburg went through this, so so can I! I'm sad that for the past several years, my country has been slipping through my fingers, and now the last of it is gone, but I'm excited too. I'm keeping an open mind. I'm willing to see what else life has to offer. The world is good. And I am happy.
Of course, eventually the other nations needed to be told about Sealand and Kartoffel. A lot of them wanted Kartoffel to "rot like bastards like him should," as Romano so eloquently stated.
Sealand was grounded until he became a nation recognized by encyclopedias honestly. "It'll hopefully compel him to work for what he wants instead of resorting to bribery," Finland explained.
"There's never been a law about anything like this," Germany said to Prussia when he wanted to talk to someone and had the pleasant surprise of realizing his older brother was more serene and not acting like a complete idiot as usual, since America and Canada had gone back to their continent earlier that day, America trying to cajole Canada into giving him the money for the vanilla Swiss almond ice cream he owed Cuba.
"Mm," Prussia mumbled.
"I mean, I've been going through all my books on law, and I have several from different countries, though German law would be best in this situation, but it's hard. I have no time to do anything now that everyone wants an interview. I'm so glad you're no longer a reporter by the way, Bruder. They're quite vicious."
Prussia sat up straight abruptly. "What did you say?"
Germany looked up from his law books, startled. "I'm glad you aren't a reporter anymore?"
"No. Before that."
"I don't have time to do anything anymore?"
"Yes! Exactly!" Prussia felt like he was burning up. He'd never before burst into flames when excited, but he really thought he might this time. "Don't you see?"
"No." Germany looked at his brother over his glasses. "You look hot. Do you have a fever?"
"Of course I look hot," Prussia replied easily before continuing. "Would you say that your lack of time interferes with your ability to do your job?"
"Yes, I'd say so."
"Enough so that it could cause either a interior or international incident that would cause significant damage to either the country of Germany itself or the government?"
"Well, I wouldn't go that far…"
"But potentially?" Prussia stood up and began pacing.
"I suppose," Germany said, though it was mainly to appease his brother. "Are you sure you're not sick?"
"So could that be classified as treason?"
"Could what be classified as treason?"
"What Kartoffel did! Try to keep up, West!"
"I don't know if that's really treason."
"But it hurt the fatherland! You are the fatherland, and you are irritated, aren't you?"
"That could be it," Germany admitted. He shook his head. "Sometimes I don't know about you, Prussia. Now listen, I'll call a lawyer if you let me take you to the doctor."
"Fine," Prussia agreed, but the doctor told Germany that Prussia was "afflicted with awesomeness." Germany was pretty sure he was paid to say that. He made himself a mental note to look into the doctor at a later date.
"So can Kartoffel be charged for treason?" Prussia kept saying, over an over, while Germany was on the phone with a lawyer. Germany grew more and more irritated until,
"SHUT UP! No, not you, I was speaking to Prussia. What? He can?"
"Yes!" Prussia shouted.
Kartoffel looked particularly sour at his court date. The room was filled. Every nation was present, even if they weren't testifying, and several people who just wanted to watch out of interest were also there.
Germany went up. "Germany," his lawyer said, "how much work did you have prior to Mr. Kohl's exposure of the nations?"
"Very much," Germany answered.
"What did your job entail?"
"I had a lot of paperwork to check over for validity and adherence to German law, and I often had to attend meetings."
"Did you finish your work?"
"Has the workload changed since before Mr. Kohl's exposure of the nations?"
"Do you finish your work now?"
"Not as often."
"People pester me for interviews and to support various causes."
"So the effects of Mr. Kohl's exposure of the nations make it difficult to do your work?"
"That is all," the lawyer said, returning to his seat.
The entire trial took months, with no help from Prussia ("He's made me really stressed. Look, I have grey hair!") or Kartoffel ("He's always had grey hair! He's albino!"). There was even a minor international incident ("Figures that this cagna would be German." Guess who said that?). Eventually, though, Kartoffel was sentenced to thirteen years in prison.
"Thirteen years?" Romano said, dismayed. "That's too little for him."
"It's an unlucky number," Prussia teased. "Maybe it'll kill him."
"Shut up," Romano muttered, irritably shoving Spain's hand away from his face.
Prussia walked into the building. It seemed like ages since he'd been here. He took a deep breath. He wasn't nervous, per se, but he didn't really feel well.
He sat down in his rolling chair and stared into the light for a few moments. He had to teach himself to not shut his eyes all over again. He'd forgotten.
"Ready, Prussia?" a producer asked.
"Yep," he said.
"Five. Four. Three. Two. And we're live."
Prussia pulled on his big grin and said, "Hey, this is The Awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt. I'm Prussia. So I quit, but they were just begging and begging to have me back, so I did them a solid and now I work here again. But they think I can't be unbiased," he rolled his eyes, "not that I ever was before, so now this show is where I answer questions about the nations so the others have time to do their work.
"First on the table: why are there so many more male nations than female nations? We don't actually know, but my theory is that it can be explained by natural selection…"
Ahh! Finished! I really can't believe this, everyone. This story is possibly the longest thing I've ever written.
Sincere thanks to everyone who read, followed, favorited, and especially reviewed! It meant the world to me to see reviews coming into my inbox.
I do have a little plot bunny forming for a possible sequel(?), but if I ever write it, it will probably not be for a while and will focus on more countries, not just Prussia. I've been wanting to write Switzerland for a while…
About that stuff where Prussia doesn't know what year it is–for this story, it was mainly solidifying why Prussia feels that he doesn't really belong with the other nations, which was central to the plot, but who knows, it might be back in the sequel.
I'll be in France next year (I'll let you know if a guy with lovely/horrible hair ever tries to hit on me), so I probably won't be around as much in this fandom, or in any fandom, but this is by no means the last you'll see of me! I'll be around, posting the barrage of Hetalia one-shots I plan to spend the remainder of my summer writing, along with Nations in NH, my little easy-writing piece.
Again, thanks to everyone who has been there throughout this story.