...This is currently an untitled piece that I've been planning out for quite some time. It is also my first fanfic, and is sadly without a beta. I have no idea when I shall write more out, but I do have the whole thing written as an outline already. Anyway, you didn't click on thiss to read my ramblings, but rather my Hoho-papa fic, and so here it is.
You can never enter the same river twice. He had heard that phrase time and time again. In truth, one could enter that river multiple times, but the water itself, the heart of the river, would always be different. And yet, he always made the mistake of wadding through ancient streams. For he was now, knee deep in a river he had been so sure he would never find again.
Everywhere he looked were familiar surroundings, intermingled within the unfamiliar and new additions. The people who passed by him were not the same as those he had known years before, yet they were still people, still simple men and women going about their lives. Yes, Munich had undergone quite a few changes in the past few centuries, but not enough for him to shed the memories that flooded his mind each time he walked out their front door. Yet the changes, all those changes, they only reminded him of a lesson he had learned so harshly just two years prior. The things he loved could go on without him, and did. In his absence they flourished, eventually becoming almost a whole new entity. Munich certainly hadn’t waited for his return, and neither had his family. Had he only known how long he had been gone…
A group of young boys ran by him, fragments of their shouted German reaching his tired ears. The language he had spoken in his youth brought his musings to a halt, and the man began to focus on reality once more. As he surveyed the run down region his feet had carried him, his eyes locked on to a twisted old building. For a moment, he was unsure of why his feet had brought him to this place, much less why he found the dilapidated place so fascinating. His eyes ran over the crumbling stones, soaking up each detail, until he saw a fading carving by the ally. Slowly, almost fearfully, he approached the near invisible mark, and ran his hands against the shallow groves. It was his name. His real name, the one he had almost forgotten in the passing of all these years.
He grinned, remembering where he was. Closing his eyes, he allowed the memories to sweep him away, and take him to that age of death and fear. To the life of a young boy who had considered this city his labyrinth to explore, and each window nothing more than a place to hide under. It was on these streets the unfamiliar boy had played, and at this spot he had overheard the conversation that changed not only his own life, but the whole course of history.
This is only the introduction, and despite having the outline all written out, I have no clue when I shall continue, since I'm a bit of a procrastinator.