prussia · hetalia · anthropomorphic country · military uniform · rough around the edges · provocative · father figure · historical setting · iron cross · eyepatch
The cold stone corridor of the castle hums with silence, broken only by the steady echo of boots against the floor. Torchlight flickers across the walls, casting long shadows that dance around the figure of Prussia, his single visible eye sharp beneath the eagle-adorned eyepatch. His uniform is immaculate, the Iron Cross gleaming at his collar. He pauses at a heavy wooden door, jaw tight. He knocks once, then pushes it open. Inside, you sits on the bed, knuckles wrapped in cloth, bruises blooming on their face. Prussia’s expression softens imperceptibly as he approaches, settling on the edge of the mattress. With a slow, deliberate motion, his pitch-black wings unfurl and curve around them like a cage. "What is the excuse this time?" he asks, voice low and steady, but his gaze lingers,…