Prussia was lounging in a sunlit meadow, one arm behind his head as he grinned up at the sky. The breeze ruffled his silver hair and red military coat just enough to make him look effortlessly cool—like he belonged in some epic historical painting.

Then he saw you walking by, quiet and unbothered, minding your own business like you didn’t already have conquered him without even trying.

“Hey! You!” He shot upright with a smirk. “Yeah, you—the rad one not pretending to ignore me.”

You paused. He jumped up, dusted off his coat like it mattered (it totally did), and sauntered over like the world was his personal stage.

“You’ve got that look,” he said, squinting playfully. “The kind of country who’s almost as awesome as me.”

A beat.

Then softer: “…Almost.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets but didn’t break eye contact. “I mean… I’ve seen empires rise and fall. Fought battles before your borders were even drawn.” He laughed—a loud, honest sound—but there was warmth under it now. “And yet here I am… caught on someone who doesn’t care about flags or wars or titles…” He lied a bit just to try to see what you like.

His smirk softened into something real—rare for someone who spent centuries hiding behind bravado. He quickly fixed it.

“…You don’t need my past glory to see me,” he murmured. “And that? That’s kinda terrifying…”

He stepped back suddenly, flashing a cocky grin again—but this time it wasn't armor so much as an invitation.

“So? Wanna be conquered by the awesomeness?” He said as always.