Cross-posted from hetachallenge
Feb. 16th, 2013 02:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kiramaru7Title: Poor Fritz
Author: kira
Claim: Prussia
Character(s): Prussia, Frederick II, Wilhelmine, Frederick William I
Table/Prompt: Angst/ Prompt #1; Forsaken
Word Count: 1124
Rating: PG13
Summary: Prussia deals with the young Crown Prince in the aftermath of his father’s cruelty…
Author’s note: Thanks go out to my beta, Jen, for looking this over.
Prussia, after getting a message from a frightened servant, hurried through the palace. He was on his way to the Crowned Prince’s room and afraid of what he would find there, he quickened his pace. He was surprised that it had not taken him long to get there and he briefly paused in front of the door, before going in without knocking. “Your Highness?” he said as he hurried over to him.
Princess Wilhelmine looked up. “Herr Beilschmidt, I’m so glad you’re here.” She smiled at him, before turning her attention back to her younger brother. “Look, Fritzchen, it’s your tutor, Herr Beilschmidt.”
Prince Frederick sat there, holding his hand close to his chest as he rocked back and forth. He cried softly and it hurt from the burns he received while trying to fish his books out of the fire. The charred remains of a book lay on the hearth while several others burned brightly in the fireplace.
Prussia came over to them, and kneeling in front of them, he asked, “What happened?” He knew damned well what had happened, but he wanted to hear it from the children.
“Vater…” the princess began, but her brother interrupted.
“I hate him!” he wailed, “He threw my books in the fire!”
The princess put her arms around her younger brother as she made soft comforting noises. “No you don’t…”
“I do too!” the Crown Prince insisted.
“Princess, if I may?” Prussia said.
“Oh course, Herr Beilschmidt.” Wilhelmine kissed her little brother’s cheek. “I’d better go,” she said.
Prussia stood, and holding out his hand, he helped the princess to her feet. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“No, thank you, Herr Beilschmidt,” she said. Satisfied that her brother would be alright in his tutor’s presence, she left.
Prussia watched her go. When the door shut behind her, he turned to the Crown Prince. “Let me see your hand, Fritzchen.”
Frederick stared sullenly at him.
He looked so sad and forsaken that it tore at Prussia’s heart. “Fine, if you don’t want my help, Your Highness, then with your permission, I’d like to go.”
Frederick sniffed back his tears and held out his hand. “I still hate him.”
Prussia nodded. “I’m not exactly fond of him myself, if you must know.” He took the Crown Prince’s hand and hissed softly at the redness and the blisters that were beginning to form on his fingers and palm. “That wasn’t very smart of you to pull the books out with your bare hands.”
Frederick sighed. “I know, but...”
“Next time use the poker.” Prussia smirked.
The Crown Prince snickered despite the pain. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“Good, now ummm… Verdammt! I wish we were in my rooms, I have stuff there I could use to treat your hand with.” Prussia sighed. “Your black eye will have to heal itself.”
Frederick shrugged. “I know… Herr Beilschmidt?”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Why does he hate me so much?”
“Because you’re a better man at nine than he is, or will ever be,” Prussia answered honestly. He took out his handkerchief and wrapped it around the prince’s hand.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Prussia smiled. He looked around the room for a pen and paper, finding both on the prince’s desk. Sitting down, Prussia said, “What books did he burn this time?” Frederick proceeded to tell him and Prussia carefully wrote them all down. It wasn’t a long list, but it would take some doing to replace them all. “Your Highness?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll replace these,” Prussia said, holding up a hand to forestall the Crown Prince’s arguments. “But, they will remain in my room. You’re free to come and read them there any time you want, okay?”
“Danke, Herr Beilschmidt!”
“However, I ask that you not take them out of my room.” Prussia gave the nine year old prince a knowing look.
“Understood, sir.”
“Good.” Prussia smiled. “How’s your hand feeling?”
“It still hurts…”
“Come; let’s go see if we can find your father’s field surgeon.”
“No, I’ll be okay, Herr Beilschmidt.”
“Your father doesn’t need to know the real reason why were going there. We’ll use it as way of learning about what it’s like to go to war from a field surgeon’s point of view.”
“You sure it’s okay?”
Prussia nodded. “Now let’s go.” They had taken a few steps towards the door, when Frederick started crying again. “Your Highness? Are you alright?”
Frederick nodded. He wiped the tears from his face with the back of his good hand. He took a few hiccupping breaths as he tried to compose himself. “I-I won’t be able to play my flute, will I?”
“Not at the moment, Your Highness, but once your fingers heal, you will.”
“Good…”
Prussia wordlessly clasped the nine year old prince on his shoulder. Despite the king’s rants about him being an effeminate fop, Prussia could see the boy was a lot tougher than he let on. While it saddened him, he also felt a measure of pride because of it.
When Frederick had sufficiently composed himself, they headed in search of the field surgeon. They found him on the parade ground, where Frederick William was busy, drilling his troops. After the Crown Prince had been seen to, they stood near the King, watching as a mock battle was being staged.
Prussia stood there, his arms folded neatly across his chest, quietly explaining what was going on to the Crown Prince. Even though it was only a mock battle, he felt a strong urge to join them, but he stood his ground, remaining by Prince Frederick’s side until the King dismissed his men. Prussia stared in disbelief, although he should have been used to it by now, at how nicely Frederick William was treating his son, now that boy was “showing an interest” in the manly arts of war, instead of sitting there, with his nose stuck in a book.
“You may go, Herr Beilschmidt,” Frederick William said.
Dismissed, Prussia had no choice but to leave. As he walked away, he hoped the Crown Prince would be alright. He briefly looked back over his shoulder at the father and son, and he made up his mind that no matter what, he would never forsake the boy in favor of his father. As far as Prussia was concerned, the King was not worthy of his loyalty, despite the fact that as a nation he would have no say in the matter. In that instant, he had decided that he would do whatever was in his power to do so, to see that Crowned Prince turned into the kind of king the people would cherish. Feeling better about the situation, Prussia hurried inside to see what he could do about replacing Frederick’s beloved books.
Author: kira
Claim: Prussia
Character(s): Prussia, Frederick II, Wilhelmine, Frederick William I
Table/Prompt: Angst/ Prompt #1; Forsaken
Word Count: 1124
Rating: PG13
Summary: Prussia deals with the young Crown Prince in the aftermath of his father’s cruelty…
Author’s note: Thanks go out to my beta, Jen, for looking this over.
Prussia, after getting a message from a frightened servant, hurried through the palace. He was on his way to the Crowned Prince’s room and afraid of what he would find there, he quickened his pace. He was surprised that it had not taken him long to get there and he briefly paused in front of the door, before going in without knocking. “Your Highness?” he said as he hurried over to him.
Princess Wilhelmine looked up. “Herr Beilschmidt, I’m so glad you’re here.” She smiled at him, before turning her attention back to her younger brother. “Look, Fritzchen, it’s your tutor, Herr Beilschmidt.”
Prince Frederick sat there, holding his hand close to his chest as he rocked back and forth. He cried softly and it hurt from the burns he received while trying to fish his books out of the fire. The charred remains of a book lay on the hearth while several others burned brightly in the fireplace.
Prussia came over to them, and kneeling in front of them, he asked, “What happened?” He knew damned well what had happened, but he wanted to hear it from the children.
“Vater…” the princess began, but her brother interrupted.
“I hate him!” he wailed, “He threw my books in the fire!”
The princess put her arms around her younger brother as she made soft comforting noises. “No you don’t…”
“I do too!” the Crown Prince insisted.
“Princess, if I may?” Prussia said.
“Oh course, Herr Beilschmidt.” Wilhelmine kissed her little brother’s cheek. “I’d better go,” she said.
Prussia stood, and holding out his hand, he helped the princess to her feet. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“No, thank you, Herr Beilschmidt,” she said. Satisfied that her brother would be alright in his tutor’s presence, she left.
Prussia watched her go. When the door shut behind her, he turned to the Crown Prince. “Let me see your hand, Fritzchen.”
Frederick stared sullenly at him.
He looked so sad and forsaken that it tore at Prussia’s heart. “Fine, if you don’t want my help, Your Highness, then with your permission, I’d like to go.”
Frederick sniffed back his tears and held out his hand. “I still hate him.”
Prussia nodded. “I’m not exactly fond of him myself, if you must know.” He took the Crown Prince’s hand and hissed softly at the redness and the blisters that were beginning to form on his fingers and palm. “That wasn’t very smart of you to pull the books out with your bare hands.”
Frederick sighed. “I know, but...”
“Next time use the poker.” Prussia smirked.
The Crown Prince snickered despite the pain. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“Good, now ummm… Verdammt! I wish we were in my rooms, I have stuff there I could use to treat your hand with.” Prussia sighed. “Your black eye will have to heal itself.”
Frederick shrugged. “I know… Herr Beilschmidt?”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Why does he hate me so much?”
“Because you’re a better man at nine than he is, or will ever be,” Prussia answered honestly. He took out his handkerchief and wrapped it around the prince’s hand.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Prussia smiled. He looked around the room for a pen and paper, finding both on the prince’s desk. Sitting down, Prussia said, “What books did he burn this time?” Frederick proceeded to tell him and Prussia carefully wrote them all down. It wasn’t a long list, but it would take some doing to replace them all. “Your Highness?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll replace these,” Prussia said, holding up a hand to forestall the Crown Prince’s arguments. “But, they will remain in my room. You’re free to come and read them there any time you want, okay?”
“Danke, Herr Beilschmidt!”
“However, I ask that you not take them out of my room.” Prussia gave the nine year old prince a knowing look.
“Understood, sir.”
“Good.” Prussia smiled. “How’s your hand feeling?”
“It still hurts…”
“Come; let’s go see if we can find your father’s field surgeon.”
“No, I’ll be okay, Herr Beilschmidt.”
“Your father doesn’t need to know the real reason why were going there. We’ll use it as way of learning about what it’s like to go to war from a field surgeon’s point of view.”
“You sure it’s okay?”
Prussia nodded. “Now let’s go.” They had taken a few steps towards the door, when Frederick started crying again. “Your Highness? Are you alright?”
Frederick nodded. He wiped the tears from his face with the back of his good hand. He took a few hiccupping breaths as he tried to compose himself. “I-I won’t be able to play my flute, will I?”
“Not at the moment, Your Highness, but once your fingers heal, you will.”
“Good…”
Prussia wordlessly clasped the nine year old prince on his shoulder. Despite the king’s rants about him being an effeminate fop, Prussia could see the boy was a lot tougher than he let on. While it saddened him, he also felt a measure of pride because of it.
When Frederick had sufficiently composed himself, they headed in search of the field surgeon. They found him on the parade ground, where Frederick William was busy, drilling his troops. After the Crown Prince had been seen to, they stood near the King, watching as a mock battle was being staged.
Prussia stood there, his arms folded neatly across his chest, quietly explaining what was going on to the Crown Prince. Even though it was only a mock battle, he felt a strong urge to join them, but he stood his ground, remaining by Prince Frederick’s side until the King dismissed his men. Prussia stared in disbelief, although he should have been used to it by now, at how nicely Frederick William was treating his son, now that boy was “showing an interest” in the manly arts of war, instead of sitting there, with his nose stuck in a book.
“You may go, Herr Beilschmidt,” Frederick William said.
Dismissed, Prussia had no choice but to leave. As he walked away, he hoped the Crown Prince would be alright. He briefly looked back over his shoulder at the father and son, and he made up his mind that no matter what, he would never forsake the boy in favor of his father. As far as Prussia was concerned, the King was not worthy of his loyalty, despite the fact that as a nation he would have no say in the matter. In that instant, he had decided that he would do whatever was in his power to do so, to see that Crowned Prince turned into the kind of king the people would cherish. Feeling better about the situation, Prussia hurried inside to see what he could do about replacing Frederick’s beloved books.
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Date: 2013-02-16 08:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-16 09:21 pm (UTC)