kiramaru7 | Cross-posted from Hetalia Holidays

Title: Memories…
To: moemoekyuun
From: kiramaru7
Medium: fic
Characters: Prussia, Frederick the Great
Ships: None listed, so I chose Prussia and Old Fritz
Rating: OT
Warnings: brief, mild yaoi scene & character death
Word Count: 1459
Author’s note: You didn’t specify any characters/pairings for this prompt, so I hope you don’t mind a lil Prussia/Old Fritz…

For moemoekyuun…

Prussia headed towards the stables, Gilbird flying along behind him. Once there, he went into the tack room and took a saddle and bridle, before heading into the stable. As he walked along the row of box stalls, he breathed in the rich scent of horse and manure. Suddenly he was transported back in time as memories from his distant past came flooding back. Prussia paused and closed his eyes. He could picture it clearly; himself and his favorite boss, Old Fritz, although at the time, he was more like young Fritz…

“Gilbert!” Prince Frederick called out. “Where’re you going?” he asked in perfect French.

“Where are you going?” Prussia repeated in German. “I’m going out for a ride, Your Highness. Do you want to come with?”

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t you know how to ride?” Prussia asked. He was very surprised when the young prince shook his head “no.” Shrugging, he grinned. “Do you want to learn?”

“Will you teach me?”

“Of course I will!” Prussia grinned. “Come, I want you meet Blitzkrieg.”

“But isn’t he your war stallion?” Prince Frederick asked; his eyes wide as saucers.

“He is, but you don’t need to be afraid, I’m here.”

“I’m not afraid!”

“Good, cuz he can tell if you are.”

“Yeah…?”

“But don’t worry; I’m afraid when I ride out into battle. I’d be fool if I wasn’t.”

“Oh…” The young prince smiled. “I didn’t think you were afraid of anything. You stand up to him.”

“He’s an Arschloch, Your Highness,” Prussia said honestly. “Anyone that has that little regard for others is.” He looked down at the Prince. “His only saving grace is he’s good to his troops, so I can’t complain there. But enough of him, let’s go riding.” He smiled.

“Yeah!”

And just as quickly as it came, the memory faded. Prussia sighed softly. He continued along the row of box stalls until he came to the one housing his horse. “Hey, Blitzkrieg.” Setting the saddle down and hanging the bridle up on a large nail, he opened the box and stepped inside.

The big black stallion whickered softly, pushing Prussia’s shoulder with his velvety soft nose. He blew warm horsey breath at him as he greeted his owner.

“I missed you too, boy. I’m sorry; I had a lot of paperwork to do thanks to my brother. You know as well as I do how un-awesome he is and what a hard-ass he can be about doing one’s work first before playing.” Prussia reached up and scratched the horse’s forehead. Moving his hand to take hold of Blitzkrieg’s halter, he led the horse out of the stall, where he found and snapped on a lead line. Prussia tied the end of the lead to the wall while he tacked up the horse.

Blitzkrieg stood patiently while his owner put on a saddle pad, followed by the saddle. Prussia reached under and grabbed the girth, cinching it. He checked and doubled checked to make sure the saddle was on correctly, but having done it numerous times over the centuries, he was certain he could do it in his sleep. Next came the bridle and the smell of the leather combined with Blitzkrieg’s warm horsiness, gave Prussia another flash of memory…

“What if we get caught, Gilbert? I’d hate for my father to get angry and you end up like, you know…” Prince Frederick said as his hands fumbled with the buttons on Prussia’s shirt.

“We won’t get caught, I promise you… Besides, your father’s busy with those Austrian idiots, and even if he does go looking for you, no one will think to look for you here.” Prussia’s deft fingers tugged at the prince’s clothing. He leaned in and kissed him, his tongue sliding past Frederick’s parted lips.

They fell into the loose hay, startling an old barn cat, which moved out of their way with a loud hiss. The horses were quiet for the most part, with Prussia’s war stallion making the occasional whinny as if sensing his master was near. Prussia, however, was thoroughly occupied elsewhere, namely pleasuring the young crown prince. Prince Frederick, whom Prussia had taken to calling “Fritz” when they were alone, gave as good as he got.

Sore, but sated, they quickly dressed when they heard voices. It had turned out it was just the stable boys, checking on the horses, before they turned in for the night.

“Verdammt! That was close!”Prussia said; the corners of his mouth drawn upwards in a cheeky grin.

“Too close, if you ask me!”the prince cried. “What if they found us?”

“They didn’t, so there’s nothing to worry about, Fritz.” Prussia plucked straw out his beloved prince’s hair. “You worry too much, kid,” he said as he reached up to ruffle Prince Frederick’s hair.

“And I’m not a kid, Gilbert!”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

“You know as well as I do, that my father hates homosexuals.”

“You father hates everyone, Fritz.”

“I know…” the prince sighed.

“Besides, you’ve got a wife, so no one’ll suspect anything…”

“You know as well as I do, that I’ve only slept with her once.”

“That’s because she was chosen by your father. Trust me; Fritz, that story’s been going around court so much your bride believes it to be true.”

“I know…” Prince Frederick playfully pushed Prussia’s shoulder. “Let’s go, my Arschloch is sore and I’m sure yours is too.”

Prussia snorted with amusement. “Think anyone who sees us will believe us if we tell them we went riding?”

“Damned if I know…” he pushed him again…

“Hey! Stop pushing me,” Prussia said to the horse. “I’m an old man and I got lost in my thoughts.” He blew softly on the horse’s nose, before unhooking the lead line. Taking the reins, he walked to the near side of the horse and left foot in the stirrup, he mounted him, swinging his right leg over until he was seated in the saddle. With a slight kick of his heels, Prussia urged the horse forward.

Blitzkrieg’s hooves clipped clopped on the stable floor in a steady rhythm. The horses that were still stabled inside whinnied as they passed. Minutes later, they stepped out into the warm summer sun. Prussia urged his mount into a trot as they circled the paddock. He wanted to jump the fence, but thought better of it. Soon they were cantering around the ring much to the delight of some young school girls who were having a lesson. He reached up to doff his hat, feeling slightly foolish when he realized he was not even wearing one and blew a kiss at their instructor instead. He chuckled softly to himself, knowing the woman would have been horrified if she knew how many times he had ridden into battle without a helmet, not to mention how many times he had fallen off and was nearly trampled or worse.

Slowing Blitzkrieg down to a walk, Prussia briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The day was warm full of the cloying scents of mid-August. With a sharp pang in his heart, Prussia realized the day, his beloved Fritz died, was like this…

Prussia was beside himself in his grief. His beloved Fritz had grown solitary in his old age, preferring the company of his dogs, and occasionally granting Prussia a private audience. The only thing that had eased his grief somewhat was the knowledge that the king had died peacefully in his armchair.

His grief, which was still raw, was made even worse, when Fritz’s successor ordered him to be buried in the last place he would have wanted to be, which was next to his hated father. All he could do was murmur softly, “I’m sorry, Fritz,” as the former king was laid to rest. As he glanced to the side where Frederick the First’s grave was, he sighed softly. When that man had passed, the new king along with Prussia had shed not a single tear. But as they covered Fritz’s coffin with dirt, Prussia felt as though his heart would break into a million pieces. He had served many bosses down through the years, but the passing of none of them had affected him as much as this…

Prussia rubbed tiredly between his eyes. Even after all this time, the memory of Fritz’s passing still hurt as if it had happened only yesterday. Not wanting to dwell on the past, Prussia urged his horse into a gallop around the ring. The smell of the dirt and manure being kicked up, and the soft caress of the wind as they galloped, brought him happier memories. That was how he wanted to remember Fritz, with happiness and love instead of sorrow.