Cross-posted from DA
Aug. 24th, 2013 03:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kiramaru7Title: Mood for a Day
Fandom: Hetalia
Author:kira
Chars/Pairs:Prussia, Frederick II, Frederick William
Genres: romance/angst
Warnings: violence
Word Count: 5330
Summary: Suffering under an abusive father as his family is being torn apart by political alliances and marriages, will Frederick find a bit of comfort in the arms of his former tutor?
Author’s note 1:Thanks to my beta Jen, for looking this over for me.
Author’s note 2:A Friesian is large horse originating in the Netherlands that resembles a light draft horse. Despite their looks, they’re quite nimble and at one time were in demand as a war horse. A Trakehner is a bred of horse originating in Prussia, a smaller and lighter build of horse known as a “warmblood” whereas a draft horse is considered a “coldblood.”
Author’s note 3: Frederick William was extremely cruel to his children, with poor Frederick being the one he mostly vented his spleen on. Generally if he did not like you, you knew it without a doubt. Wilhelmine was Frederick’s older sister and a lifelong friend and confidant of his, except for a brief period when they disagreed over how she should handle her husband and his mistress. He was about 19 when she was married off to the Margrave of Brandenburg-Bayreuth.
“She had to get married sometime, Your Highness,” Prussia said as he turned the page in the book, he was reading. He closed it, after marking his place, and shifting his weight in the chair, he was sitting in; he set the book aside. “Your father could have done worse than marry her off to the Margrave.”
“I know,” Frederick replied, “but he was supposed to marry my younger sister Sophie. How happy can Wilhelmina be, knowing she was a last minute choice?” He closed his book and set it aside.
“Not very, but it can turn into love, Fritz.” Prussia smiled, hoping to reassure the young Crown Prince.
“She’s doing it for me, you know, sacrificing herself in order to appease that bastard!”
“Fritz.” Prussia gave him a warning look.
“What?!” Frederick glared angrily at his former tutor and now friend and mentor. “The devil with that bastard!” he said, after catching the other’s unspoken warning and ignoring it. Frederick was angry at his father and he did not care who knew it nor did he care about the consequences of Frederick William finding out.
“It could be worse. She could have been married off somewhere far away, but she’s still here in Prussia.” He sighed softly. “And you’re not imprisoned anymore. Sure, she did it for you, but it’s not like she had much choice in the matter either,” Prussia said, his expression softening. “So treat it like the bittersweet moment all weddings are.” He smiled.
Frederick rolled his eyes. He got up from his chair, and walking over to the window, he looked out at the scene below. More guests were arriving in a daily ritual leading up to the princess’ wedding. He ignored the sound of his friend’s soft footsteps, signaling his approach.
Prussia stood behind the young Crown Prince, placing his hand on his shoulder, and giving it a gentle squeeze. “She’ll still write to you and once… Once he changes his mind and really frees you, I’m sure you’ll be able to visit her.”
“As if that’ll ever happen.” The Crown Prince snorted. “The only way I’m going to be free of that bastard is when he dies!” He turned to face Prussia. “And don’t you deny it, Beilschmidt!”
Prussia looked at him and sighed. He hated what his “boss” did to his children, especially Frederick, and he shared the Crown Prince’s feeling on the matter that the sooner the king passed on, the happier they all would be.
Frederick looked at his friend, remorse written on his face. “I’m sorry, Herr Beilschmidt.”
“But not about him.” Prussia smirked.
Frederick snorted. “Of course not.” His expression grew sad. “I’m going to miss her…”
“I know, and I said you can write to her and I know she’ll write back. Just…” Prussia trailed off, trying to think of a way to put it delicately so as not to further upset the Crown Prince.
“What?”
“Just give her a chance to adjust to being a new bride.” Prussia winked.
Frederick rolled his eyes. “You mean wait until her honeymoon period is over,” he said.
“Yeah.” Prussia smiled. “Come,” he said, changing the subject, “Let’s go out for a ride and… umm, inspect the troops.”
“Look at my father’s giants?” Frederick made a face.
“Fritz,” Prussia began, his use of the pet name gaining Frederick’s undivided attention. “I told you, play his game,” he held up a hand, forestalling the Crown Prince’s objections, “and bide your time.” Prussia grinned. “Study the enemy; know his weaknesses so you can lull him into a sense of false security.”
“I know.”
“Look, if your father sees you taking an interest in what he feels you should be taking an interest in, he might be more agreeable to you playing your flute for one thing, for another, he might ease up on your house arrest.”
Frederick shrugged.
“Your Highness, Fritzchen, please give it a chance. I know you spent your time at Küstrin studying statecraft and administration, and I’m well aware of how boring you found it, but hey, it could have been worse, you could have really been imprisoned.”
“I was imprisoned.”
“You know what I mean,” Prussia said and the Crown Prince nodded. “Or worse,” he added. “You could have ended up like your friend von Katte.”
“I don’t want to talk about that.” Frederick looked away.
“Understood. All I want you to realize, Fritz, is that if you keep your nose clean and do what he wants, you’ll have the last laugh by outliving the bastard. Then you’ll be in charge and can do whatever the hell you want.”
“That’s if he doesn’t kill me first.”
“Oh, Fritz…” Prussia sighed. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do to make life easier for you.”
Frederick shrugged. “It’s okay.
“But it’s not okay, is it?”
The Crown Prince shook his head. “Let’s go inspect the troops and go riding,” he said, bringing up Prussia’s earlier suggestion. “It’s better than sitting here.” Feeling helpless… he added in his head.
“Nice plan, getting the crap out of the way first.” Prussia grinned and Frederick replied with one of his own.
“Pfft…” the Crown Prince waved a hand dismissively. “You taught me that, so of course you’d like it.”
“Yeah.” Prussia laughed. “Sit down and let me help you with your boots.”
“But if you and my father are so determined to make a soldier out of me, shouldn’t I do it myself?” Frederick raised an eyebrow.
“Fair enough, then I’ll meet you in my quarters as soon as you get your boots on.”
Frederick nodded. “You’re dismissed,” he said. Prussia gave him a slight bow, and turning on his heel, he walked away. The Crown Prince watched him go, before he went in search of his riding boots. As much as he would rather have stayed inside and sulked about his sister’s wedding, riding had a certain appeal. He wondered if he could talk his friend into riding over to the parade grounds and inspecting his father’s troops on horseback, were the ridiculously tall men would not seem so gigantic.
Finding his boots, the Crown Prince kicked off his shoes and pulled them on, before realizing he was not exactly dressed for riding. Groaning softly, he sat down and pulled off his boots, his jacket and waistcoat soon following. He padded over in his shirtsleeves and stocking feet to his wardrobe. Opening the doors, he looked inside for a pair of riding breeches. After finding what he was looking for, he quickly changed into them. He also shrugged into a plain white waistcoat, grabbing the dark blue jacket; his father insisted he wear whenever he dealt with his troops. Frederick walked over to the chair, and tossing the jacket aside, he pulled on his boot, before picking it up and putting it on. Frederick put on his hat, his riding outfit complete. The Crown Prince glanced at his reflection in the large mirror, and satisfied his appearance would meet with his father’s approval, Frederick left his room.
Prussia, on his way to see what had happened to the Crown Prince, met him the hallway. “Your Highness,” he said with a smirk and Frederick felt his cheeks heating up. “Shall we?”
Frederick nodded and the two of them wandered the halls of the palace, trying to avoid the busy servants and guests, who were in various stages of arrival. After what had felt like a torturous ordeal on one hand and a fun adventure on the other, the two found themselves in the stables. While Frederick lavished attention on the stable master’s dog, Prussia went to see about their horses. He returned several minutes later, leading his big black Friesian, Blitzkrieg, and the Crown Prince’s smaller grey Trakehner, Tristan.
“Tristan,” Frederick said, giving the name a French lilt, as he rubbed his horse’s velvety soft nose. He smiled when his horse whickered softly, and lifting his head, Tristan blew a blast of warm horsey breath in the Crown Prince’s face.
“You gonna make love to him or go riding?” Prussia teased as his mounted his horse.
“You’re just jealous Blitzkrieg doesn’t love you like Tristan loves me,” Frederick retorted as he pulled himself into the saddle.
“Trees-TAWN,” Prussia mimicked. “Only you would give a noble Prussian horse a sissy French name,” he smirked. Giving Blitzkrieg a gentle kick with his heels, Prussia urged his horse forward.
“Go fuck yourself,” Frederick replied sweetly in French, also urging his horse forward. He blushed at the raised eyebrow and knowing look Prussia gave him.
“I may not be able to speak that sissy language as well as you do, but I sure as hell know what you’ve said. Although…” Prussia paused as he tried to remember how to say it in French, “I’d rather fuck you instead,” he finished in badly accented French as they left the stable.
“Herr Beilschmidt!” the Crown Prince cried, his blush deepening.
“What? You brought it up; I just gave you my honest opinion.”
“I know…” Frederick said, his discomfiture at his friend and mentor’s statement clearly evident.
“It’ll be our lil secret, Fritz,” Prussia said, “Now, let’s head over to the parade ground and get this bullshit over with and kiss us some arse and make your father happy.” He chuckled.
“What?”
“It just occurred to me that your father might be compensating for a lack of something with his giants,” Prussia said rather cryptically.
Frederick rolled his eyes. “Please don’t elaborate.”
“I won’t.”
They rode on in companionable silence; the sound of their horses’ steady hoof beats marking their passage. Frederick was enjoying his freedom, however meager it was, and Prussia was happy to see the smile that graced the Crown Prince’s face. They arrived at the parade ground just in time to see the king dismiss his Giants. Trotting over to him, despite Frederick’s misgivings, Prussia greeted him.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing low in the saddle over his horse’s neck.
“Beilschmidt.”
“Father…” Frederick said, repeating his mentor’s actions.
“Frederick.” Frederick William looked at them both with contempt. “It’s about time you strolled over here.”
“I’m sorry, Father…”
“Sorry doesn’t begin-” the king began.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Prussia interrupted. “It’s all my fault. I had engaged His Highness in a lively debate about statecraft this morning and I failed to keep track of the time,” he lied.
“Oh,” Frederick William replied. “It must have been some debate,” he said dryly.
“It was and in the future, I promise to pay more attention to the time.”
The king snorted. “Don’t let it happen again, Beilschmidt. Understood?”
“Completely, Your Majesty,” Prussia said, somehow managing to sound properly contrite despite his mocking tone, and Frederick felt a pang of alarm as one never knew when his father would explode in anger.
Satisfied with his answer, Frederick William nodded and abruptly left them, much to Prussia’s relief as the man always brought out the worst in him and left him spoiling for a fight. Looking over at the Crown Prince, he was upset to see how pale he had gone. “Fritz, you okay?”
Frederick shook his head. He felt like he was about to burst into tears and it took him several minutes to calm down enough to able to speak. “I’m sorry, Herr Beilschmidt,” he said softly.
Prussia sighed. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“Yes, there is! He’s going to do something awful at dinner, I just know it!” Frederick said, his words coming out in a heated rush. Covering his mouth with his hand, the Crown Prince started to cry.
“Fritzchen,” Prussia said softly as he urged his horse closer. Both stallions eyed other warily and Blitzkrieg whickered and tossed his head. “Hey, easy, boy,” Prussia soothed.
“Herr Beilschmidt?”
“I was talking to Blitzkrieg.”
“Oh…” Frederick felt his cheeks heating up. He patted Tristan’s neck when his horse whinnied.
“But it also applies to you. Whatever stupidity your father comes up with tonight for his entertainment, I’ll deflect it onto myself as much as I can.” I haven’t gone head to head with the bastard in a while, so it ought to be fun…
A loud sob escaped Frederick’s lips. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“I’ve been through worse.” Prussia shrugged. He had often come to the Crown Prince’s aid where his father was concerned, letting the king vent his anger and frustration on him instead of his son. Since healed quicker than a mortal would, he bore those scars willingly, as a matter of pride in service to his future king. The fact that he genuinely liked Frederick made him want to protect the boy as he would have served whoever was next in line, just as he served the current king. Prussia had the feeling that if Frederick had been a lowly stable boy, instead of the Crown Prince, he still would have taken his lumps for him.
Frederick looked at him like he did not believe that for a second. “Last time you did that, he nearly beat you to death.”
“‘Nearly’ being the operative word here,” Prussia said wryly as he held up a hand, forestalling the Crown Prince’s argument. “Fritz, I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m too mean a son of a bitch to die on you and certainly not from a little thrashing.”
“My father broke a cane over your head, Herr Beilschmidt. I’d hardly call that a little thrashing.”
“Please don’t cry, Fritz, and I’m not saying that cuz it makes you look like a girl. I’m saying it cuz it hurts me to see you so upset.”
Frederick nodded. Wiping his tears away with the back of his hands, he looked straight ahead as he got his emotions under control. Having been on the receiving end of one of his father’s violent outbursts more times than he cared to remember, Frederick knew exactly what the king was capable of.
“Now,” Prussia began, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a cocky grin.
“What?” Frederick said, finally looking over at him and meeting Prussia’s amused gaze.
“How about I race you to our spot?” Prussia smirked.
“You’re on!” Frederick replied with a smirk of his own, his distress seemingly forgotten, but Prussia knew better. Determined to lift the Crown Prince’s spirits, he leaned forward in the saddle and gave Blitzkrieg a little kick. The Friesian gathered himself and cantered off, leaving Frederick behind. The Crown Prince quickly followed, urging his Trakehner into a gallop as the two raced through the parade grounds towards the meadow surrounding the palace. Tristan, being a smaller, slighter horse, easily caught up to Prussia’s larger, heavier warhorse.
They laughed as they raced, neither one caring that they had lost their hats. They simply exhilarated in the thrill of the race and the feel of the wind rushing by as their horses galloped at breakneck speed. They jumped low hedges and other small obstacles, scattering birds with their laughter and antics. Frederick won by dumb luck this time; Prussia nearly unseating himself when Blitzkrieg stumbled. He pulled the horse back, slowing him down to a canter, then a trot, before walking over to the Crown Prince.
“Well, done, Fritz!” Prussia said as he dismounted.
“Danke, Herr Beilschmidt.”
“We’re alone; you can call me ‘Gilbert.’”
“Gilbert it is then,” Frederick replied, giving his friend’s name a French lilt. He dismounted and tightly held Tristan’s bridle. Smelling water, the horse wanted to drink, but he needed to cool down first.
Prussia snorted in amusement. “What’s with you and that sissy language?”
“French is the language of culture.”
“You sound silly, no wonder you father calls you effeminate.”
Frederick huffed.
“I’m just telling you for your own good.” Prussia rubbed Blitzkrieg’s nose.
“I know…”
They led the horses over to the river and let them drink. When they had enough, they loosened the saddle girths and let them graze, while they sat nearby in the shade of the willow growing by the riverbank. They rested in companionable silence, enjoying the birds singing in the copse of trees across the river and the quiet rush of the water as it tumbled over some rocks where the river narrowed into rapids. Prussia stretched, and folding his hands behind his head, he leaned back against the tree, sighing contentedly.
Frederick giggled.
“What?” Prussia did his best to look past his elbow at the Crown Prince.
“You sound like an old man,” Frederick teased.
Prussia snorted. “I am an old man.”
“No you’re not,” Frederick said shyly. “Old men are cranky and ill tempered like my father. You’re funny and earthy and… you know.” He blushed. “You may have white hair for real, but you’re far from old, Herr Beil- I mean, Gilbert…”
“Danke.”
“Bitte.”
Prussia chuckled.
“Now what?” Frederick said as he leaned over and pushed down on Prussia’s elbow, in an effort to see him better.
Prussia shifted and when he did, Frederick almost fell on him. “Nothing, it’s just that you know how to speak German when it suits you,” he said as the Crown Prince locked gazes with him.
Minutes seemed to stretch into an eternity, before Frederick said so softly that Prussia was not even sure he had heard him correctly, “J'aimerais t'embrasser… Küss mich…” Leaning in and closing his eyes, Frederick brushed his lips against his friend’s. Pulling away, he sat back, refusing to meet Prussia’s gaze, as his cheeks heated up.
“Fritzchen…?”
“Yeah?”
“You know, if you’re going to kiss someone,” Prussia reached out, and cupping the Crown Prince’s cheek, he tilted his head up to look at him. “Kiss them like you mean it.” Leaning towards him, Prussia did just that. When they came up for air, Frederick surprised him by kissing him back a bit more forcefully, as if showing him what he had learned, before pulling away.
Frederick sat back, hugging his knees. He was so mortified by what he had done, that he wanted to get up and throw himself in the river, anything, but sit there and listen to his friend’s soft chuckling. “Shut up! It’s not funny!”
“I never said it was, Fritz. I was just amazed at what a quick learner you are.” Prussia smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “But I really shouldn’t be.”
“Yeah?” Frederick was intrigued, despite himself.
“Yeah… Look at how well you picked up statecraft and in such a short time too.” At the look on the Crown Prince’s face, he added, “I’m not making fun of you, Fritz, or belittling you in anyway. It just… It’s just that you, well, surprised me.”
“Oh…” Frederick sighed. “But I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Why? I didn’t mind in the least.” Prussia smiled. “You know, you’re not a bad kisser. And I mean that.”
Frederick nodded. “But…” He finally met Prussia’s gaze again and it tore at his heart when the Crown Prince’s eyes well up with unshed tears. “But when I kissed… Hans Hermann… and umm…” he looked away.
Prussia sighed. Even though some time had passed, von Katte’s death still troubled the Crown Prince. Prussia wondered what the two of them actually got up to if he was this upset over a kiss. Had some innocent kisses led to something more…? “Fritz?”
Trembling, as he took in a ragged breath, Frederick somehow managed to pull himself together. “I still can’t believe my father did that…”
“Are you having nightmares about it again?” Prussia said, the concern he felt for Frederick clearly heard in his voice. He frowned.
“No, thankfully I haven’t had any in awhile.”
“That’s good.” Prussia breathed a sigh of relief.
“Yeah…” Frederick leaned against his friend. When Prussia lifted his arm, he settled in. He loved it when Prussia put his arms around him, holding him close. He craved the attention and he marveled at how his friend always knew whenever he needed it the most. He put a tentative arm around Prussia as he was so afraid of the consequences if they got caught that it was hard to show affection towards his friend and mentor. The fact that his father thought he was an effeminate fop aside, he was deeply afraid for his friend’s life. Frederick had vowed to take his own life, something he kept from him, if the unthinkable happened to Prussia because of him.
Prussia shifted even so slightly and looked down at the Crown Prince. He smiled sadly, knowing the reason behind his hesitation. Oh, Fritz… He sighed softly. I wish I could make things better for you, but all can do is just wait with you and help you persevere… If it would have helped, I’d have strangled the bastard before he ever laid a hand on you, but I couldn’t… I can’t, he’s my ruler and I must obey him… But I think if he ever forbade me to see you, I’d grow a set of brass ones in a heartbeat and defy him… And maybe I can teach you how to be the man he should have been…
Frederick sighed as well.
“You okay, Fritz?”
“Yeah…” He sighed again. “I wish…”
“What?” Prussia rested his cheek on the top of Frederick’s head.
“I wish things were different even though I know it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid, no one wants a bastard like that for a father.”
Frederick nodded.”Maybe we should go so no one finds us here.”
“With our arms around each other like… lovers?”
“Yeah…” Frederick said as he pushed away from him and sat up. Getting to his feet, he brushed the dirt from his butt. “Besides, I’m hungry.”
Hungry for what…? Prussia mused when he got up and dusted himself off. “Would you like to have lunch in my quarters?”
“I umm…”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Fritz.”
“I know and uh,” Frederick looked up at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “I’d be happy to have lunch with you.
Prussia grinned in reply. “Come, let’s go get the horses.”
“Okay. Tristan!” Frederick called out.
The Trakehner stallion lifted his head and whinnied. When Prussia called out to his horse the Friesian trotted over, Tristan following behind. The horses waited while their owners tightened their girths, before mounting.
Kicking his heels against Blitzkrieg’s flanks, Prussia urged his horse forward. Frederick followed suit and the two of the slowly made their way to the palace stable. They went in the same direction they had come from and along the way, they were lucky to find their hats, with Prussia dismounting each time to go pick it up. By the time they had arrived, the mantel of their easy friendship was back, the kiss and the close intimacy of would-be lovers forgotten.
Lunch was a pleasant affair spent discussing French literature as compared to German. Afterwards, Frederick entertained his friend by playing a sonata, he had written for his sister, on his flute. “Bravo!” Prussia cried, clapping his hands.
Frederick blushed and clasping his flute close to his chest, he gave him a slight bow. “You should learn how to play, Gilbert.”
“I don’t know, Fritz. As much as I enjoy your playing, I don’t think I have it in me to play and even if I did, I wouldn’t be half as good as you.” Prussia reached for his wine glass and drank.
Frederick’s blush deepened. “Oh…”
Prussia nodded. “Why don’t you play something else for me?”
“Okay.” Raising his flute to his lips, Frederick played one of Prussia’s favorite pieces. He was happy his friend was pleased with his choice, even going so far as to whistle along with him. It was all the Crown Prince could do not to laugh.
While Prussia contemplated asking for lessons, a servant arrived with a message from the Crown Princess that she wanted to see her brother. Sighing softly, Frederick thanked him, before turning to his friend.
“It’s from Wilhelmina.”
“Yeah?”
Frederick nodded. “She wants to see me.”
“Then you’d better go, Fritz, in case it’s important.”
“Yeah…” Frederick said, although it was easy to see he was torn between remaining with his friend and go to see what his beloved sister wanted.
“You can always play for me later.”
Frederick smiled. “That’s true.”
“And, Fritz.”
“Yeah?”
“I promise not to miss you.” Prussia grinned.
The Crown Prince laughed. “And I promise to be back before you do. See you at dinner, then.”
“Until then.” Prussia got to see him out. They slowly walked to the door and Frederick gave him a shy little smile, before stepping over the threshold. Prussia stood there, watching him hurry off in the direction of the Crown Princess’ rooms. After he could no longer see him, Prussia turned and went back into his room. He walked over to his favorite chair by the window, where he spent the remainder of the afternoon, reading, until it was time to get ready for dinner.
Dinner was a typical affair. The food was edible if nothing else, the wine barely so. Prussia found the dinner conversation mediocre at best, not that he paid much attention to it. All of his attention was focused on Frederick. While the Crown Prince barely touched his food, Prussia was pleased to note, he at least was talking to his future brother-in-law like they were old friends. Quashing the pang of jealousy he felt, Prussia reached for his wineglass and drank. He let his gaze wander around the table, careful to not let it linger. There was a subtle undercurrent of tension in the air, although he was hard pressed to put his finger on it. The king had been in a good mood all week and Prussia was about to dismiss it as nonsense when Frederick William opened his mouth.
“Frederick, are you flirting with your sister’s husband?”
“No, Father!” he cried as everyone turned to stare at him.
Verdammt! Prussia thought. Here we go again… Why the hell can’t you leave the boy alone?!
“No?” Frederick William drawled as the low hum of conversation started up again in earnest.
“No, I swear it!”
The king looked at his future son-in-law. “Was he flirting with you, Frederick?”
The Margrave shook his head, but kept quiet, not wanting to get involved in the drama.
“He is a flirt,” Frederick William said as he pushed back from the table and stood. “He flirts with his former teacher all the time, doesn’t he, Beilschmidt?” The king walked around the table over to where Prussia sat; the soft clacking of his shoes and cane as it hit the ground stood out against the buzz of conversation.
“I wasn’t aware that he did, Your Majesty.” He grinned.
“No?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“Funny… That’s’ not what I’ve heard.” Frederick William tapped his cane loudly on the marble floor. His son, Frederick winced at the sound.
Gott in Himmel… Please, Gilbert, please don’t start with him… Frederick closed his eyes as he could not bear to watch what he knew was going to happen next.
“Perhaps you’re secret lovers? And don’t want that getting out? Hmmm?” Frederick William asked sweetly, although there was no mistaking the underlining malice behind the questions.
“If so, Your Majesty, then it’s so secret we were both unaware of it.”
“Oh really? Maybe you’re too stupid to be aware of it.” Frederick William raised his canes and brought it down on the table next to Prussia. While he did not flinch, Frederick and several of the nobility did. “Maybe I need to beat some sense in you.”
“If you say so, Your Majesty.”
“I do! Get up, Beilschmidt! Now!!” He raised the cane again.
Prussia got up and no sooner than he did so than the king began raining down blows on him. Frederick William took particular delight in abusing his son’s former tutor, blaming him for most of what he considered Frederick’s nonsense. Although he did try to shield himself from the brunt of it, Prussia still bore the beating stoically. Only when he broke his cane on Prussia’s forearm did he stop the abuse. He kicked him savagely in the shin, before limping back to his seat as if nothing happened.
Frederick William sat and reached for his wine. He sipped it, glaring over the rim at Prussia, who stood there, swaying slightly on his feet. With a little sound of disgust he called his son over to him. “Frederick!”
“Yes, Father?” The Crown Prince trembled in fear at becoming his father’s next target.
“Get him out of here,” he waved a hand in Prussia’s direction, “and while you’re at it, stay out of my sight as well.”
Frederick nodded. “Yes, Father.” He hurried to do as he was bidden. “Come, Herr Beilschmidt, let’s get you back to your room,” he said softly as he led Prussia away.
It was slow going as Prussia’s head was swimming as he tried to get one foot in front of the other. Despite barely being able to remain conscious, he had a strong desire to pick up the larger of the two pieces of broken cane and have a go at the king. “Not so fast, Fritz, “he said, slurring his words, “I need to sit down.”
“Okay.” Frederick looked around for a chair or a bench, something in the corridor out of the dining hall, but finding nothing, he gently eased his friend onto the floor. Taking his handkerchief from his sleeve, the Crown Prince held it to a gash on Prussia’s forehead. “Here, hold, this Gilbert, while I go get help.” He grabbed Prussia’s hand without thinking, ignoring the cry of pain, and said, “Sorry, Gilbert, but you can’t stay here on the floor and your head needs to be stitched. I’m going to get the field surgeon. I promise I won’t be long… Just hold that there as hard as you can. Remember? Like you told me to when I was little and Father hurt me?”
“Yeah…” Prussia croaked. He lay there, listening to Frederick’s retreating footsteps. He wished his head and arm did not hurt so bad, before he gave into the darkness and passed out. He woke up several hours later, to soft candlelight and the sweet sound of Frederick’s flute. He groaned loudly when he went to get more comfortable, prompting Frederick to stop playing.
“Gilbert…?”
“Hunh…?”
“How you feeling?”
Prussia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I feel like Blitzkrieg kicked me in the head… but I’ll live… I’ve had worse hangovers...” He grinned in spite of the pain.
Frederick rolled his eyes. “Only you would make light of my father’s cruelty.” He came over and stood close to the bed.
“Seriously, I’ll be fine…”
“I know, you’re to mean to up and die on me, but-”
“But nothing, Fritz…” Prussia swallowed, his throat feeling a bit dry. He tried not to cry out when the Crown Prince helped him up, before holding a cup of water to his lips. He drank just enough to wet his mouth. “I’m just… I’m just biding my time.”
“For what? You could have been killed and I don’t care how many times you say you’re too mean to die, one of these days he’s going to go too far!”
“Calm down… you’re making my head hurt.”
“Sorry, Gilbert.”
“It’s alright… Just play something… I want to sleep….”
Frederick raised his flute to his lips as he took a deep breath. Puckering his lips in a tight smile, he blew softly across his flute’s embouchure hole, his fingers dancing as he played one of Prussia’s favorite tunes.
The music was soothing as it reassured him that Frederick was alright. Prussia sighed softly as much as he wanted to remain awake for the impromptu concert, he felt his eyelids growing heavy as sleep threatened to claim him. He fought it for as long as he could; finally giving in when he felt Frederick’s warm hand gently caress his cheek.
Fandom: Hetalia
Author:kira
Chars/Pairs:Prussia, Frederick II, Frederick William
Genres: romance/angst
Warnings: violence
Word Count: 5330
Summary: Suffering under an abusive father as his family is being torn apart by political alliances and marriages, will Frederick find a bit of comfort in the arms of his former tutor?
Author’s note 1:Thanks to my beta Jen, for looking this over for me.
Author’s note 2:A Friesian is large horse originating in the Netherlands that resembles a light draft horse. Despite their looks, they’re quite nimble and at one time were in demand as a war horse. A Trakehner is a bred of horse originating in Prussia, a smaller and lighter build of horse known as a “warmblood” whereas a draft horse is considered a “coldblood.”
Author’s note 3: Frederick William was extremely cruel to his children, with poor Frederick being the one he mostly vented his spleen on. Generally if he did not like you, you knew it without a doubt. Wilhelmine was Frederick’s older sister and a lifelong friend and confidant of his, except for a brief period when they disagreed over how she should handle her husband and his mistress. He was about 19 when she was married off to the Margrave of Brandenburg-Bayreuth.
“She had to get married sometime, Your Highness,” Prussia said as he turned the page in the book, he was reading. He closed it, after marking his place, and shifting his weight in the chair, he was sitting in; he set the book aside. “Your father could have done worse than marry her off to the Margrave.”
“I know,” Frederick replied, “but he was supposed to marry my younger sister Sophie. How happy can Wilhelmina be, knowing she was a last minute choice?” He closed his book and set it aside.
“Not very, but it can turn into love, Fritz.” Prussia smiled, hoping to reassure the young Crown Prince.
“She’s doing it for me, you know, sacrificing herself in order to appease that bastard!”
“Fritz.” Prussia gave him a warning look.
“What?!” Frederick glared angrily at his former tutor and now friend and mentor. “The devil with that bastard!” he said, after catching the other’s unspoken warning and ignoring it. Frederick was angry at his father and he did not care who knew it nor did he care about the consequences of Frederick William finding out.
“It could be worse. She could have been married off somewhere far away, but she’s still here in Prussia.” He sighed softly. “And you’re not imprisoned anymore. Sure, she did it for you, but it’s not like she had much choice in the matter either,” Prussia said, his expression softening. “So treat it like the bittersweet moment all weddings are.” He smiled.
Frederick rolled his eyes. He got up from his chair, and walking over to the window, he looked out at the scene below. More guests were arriving in a daily ritual leading up to the princess’ wedding. He ignored the sound of his friend’s soft footsteps, signaling his approach.
Prussia stood behind the young Crown Prince, placing his hand on his shoulder, and giving it a gentle squeeze. “She’ll still write to you and once… Once he changes his mind and really frees you, I’m sure you’ll be able to visit her.”
“As if that’ll ever happen.” The Crown Prince snorted. “The only way I’m going to be free of that bastard is when he dies!” He turned to face Prussia. “And don’t you deny it, Beilschmidt!”
Prussia looked at him and sighed. He hated what his “boss” did to his children, especially Frederick, and he shared the Crown Prince’s feeling on the matter that the sooner the king passed on, the happier they all would be.
Frederick looked at his friend, remorse written on his face. “I’m sorry, Herr Beilschmidt.”
“But not about him.” Prussia smirked.
Frederick snorted. “Of course not.” His expression grew sad. “I’m going to miss her…”
“I know, and I said you can write to her and I know she’ll write back. Just…” Prussia trailed off, trying to think of a way to put it delicately so as not to further upset the Crown Prince.
“What?”
“Just give her a chance to adjust to being a new bride.” Prussia winked.
Frederick rolled his eyes. “You mean wait until her honeymoon period is over,” he said.
“Yeah.” Prussia smiled. “Come,” he said, changing the subject, “Let’s go out for a ride and… umm, inspect the troops.”
“Look at my father’s giants?” Frederick made a face.
“Fritz,” Prussia began, his use of the pet name gaining Frederick’s undivided attention. “I told you, play his game,” he held up a hand, forestalling the Crown Prince’s objections, “and bide your time.” Prussia grinned. “Study the enemy; know his weaknesses so you can lull him into a sense of false security.”
“I know.”
“Look, if your father sees you taking an interest in what he feels you should be taking an interest in, he might be more agreeable to you playing your flute for one thing, for another, he might ease up on your house arrest.”
Frederick shrugged.
“Your Highness, Fritzchen, please give it a chance. I know you spent your time at Küstrin studying statecraft and administration, and I’m well aware of how boring you found it, but hey, it could have been worse, you could have really been imprisoned.”
“I was imprisoned.”
“You know what I mean,” Prussia said and the Crown Prince nodded. “Or worse,” he added. “You could have ended up like your friend von Katte.”
“I don’t want to talk about that.” Frederick looked away.
“Understood. All I want you to realize, Fritz, is that if you keep your nose clean and do what he wants, you’ll have the last laugh by outliving the bastard. Then you’ll be in charge and can do whatever the hell you want.”
“That’s if he doesn’t kill me first.”
“Oh, Fritz…” Prussia sighed. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do to make life easier for you.”
Frederick shrugged. “It’s okay.
“But it’s not okay, is it?”
The Crown Prince shook his head. “Let’s go inspect the troops and go riding,” he said, bringing up Prussia’s earlier suggestion. “It’s better than sitting here.” Feeling helpless… he added in his head.
“Nice plan, getting the crap out of the way first.” Prussia grinned and Frederick replied with one of his own.
“Pfft…” the Crown Prince waved a hand dismissively. “You taught me that, so of course you’d like it.”
“Yeah.” Prussia laughed. “Sit down and let me help you with your boots.”
“But if you and my father are so determined to make a soldier out of me, shouldn’t I do it myself?” Frederick raised an eyebrow.
“Fair enough, then I’ll meet you in my quarters as soon as you get your boots on.”
Frederick nodded. “You’re dismissed,” he said. Prussia gave him a slight bow, and turning on his heel, he walked away. The Crown Prince watched him go, before he went in search of his riding boots. As much as he would rather have stayed inside and sulked about his sister’s wedding, riding had a certain appeal. He wondered if he could talk his friend into riding over to the parade grounds and inspecting his father’s troops on horseback, were the ridiculously tall men would not seem so gigantic.
Finding his boots, the Crown Prince kicked off his shoes and pulled them on, before realizing he was not exactly dressed for riding. Groaning softly, he sat down and pulled off his boots, his jacket and waistcoat soon following. He padded over in his shirtsleeves and stocking feet to his wardrobe. Opening the doors, he looked inside for a pair of riding breeches. After finding what he was looking for, he quickly changed into them. He also shrugged into a plain white waistcoat, grabbing the dark blue jacket; his father insisted he wear whenever he dealt with his troops. Frederick walked over to the chair, and tossing the jacket aside, he pulled on his boot, before picking it up and putting it on. Frederick put on his hat, his riding outfit complete. The Crown Prince glanced at his reflection in the large mirror, and satisfied his appearance would meet with his father’s approval, Frederick left his room.
Prussia, on his way to see what had happened to the Crown Prince, met him the hallway. “Your Highness,” he said with a smirk and Frederick felt his cheeks heating up. “Shall we?”
Frederick nodded and the two of them wandered the halls of the palace, trying to avoid the busy servants and guests, who were in various stages of arrival. After what had felt like a torturous ordeal on one hand and a fun adventure on the other, the two found themselves in the stables. While Frederick lavished attention on the stable master’s dog, Prussia went to see about their horses. He returned several minutes later, leading his big black Friesian, Blitzkrieg, and the Crown Prince’s smaller grey Trakehner, Tristan.
“Tristan,” Frederick said, giving the name a French lilt, as he rubbed his horse’s velvety soft nose. He smiled when his horse whickered softly, and lifting his head, Tristan blew a blast of warm horsey breath in the Crown Prince’s face.
“You gonna make love to him or go riding?” Prussia teased as his mounted his horse.
“You’re just jealous Blitzkrieg doesn’t love you like Tristan loves me,” Frederick retorted as he pulled himself into the saddle.
“Trees-TAWN,” Prussia mimicked. “Only you would give a noble Prussian horse a sissy French name,” he smirked. Giving Blitzkrieg a gentle kick with his heels, Prussia urged his horse forward.
“Go fuck yourself,” Frederick replied sweetly in French, also urging his horse forward. He blushed at the raised eyebrow and knowing look Prussia gave him.
“I may not be able to speak that sissy language as well as you do, but I sure as hell know what you’ve said. Although…” Prussia paused as he tried to remember how to say it in French, “I’d rather fuck you instead,” he finished in badly accented French as they left the stable.
“Herr Beilschmidt!” the Crown Prince cried, his blush deepening.
“What? You brought it up; I just gave you my honest opinion.”
“I know…” Frederick said, his discomfiture at his friend and mentor’s statement clearly evident.
“It’ll be our lil secret, Fritz,” Prussia said, “Now, let’s head over to the parade ground and get this bullshit over with and kiss us some arse and make your father happy.” He chuckled.
“What?”
“It just occurred to me that your father might be compensating for a lack of something with his giants,” Prussia said rather cryptically.
Frederick rolled his eyes. “Please don’t elaborate.”
“I won’t.”
They rode on in companionable silence; the sound of their horses’ steady hoof beats marking their passage. Frederick was enjoying his freedom, however meager it was, and Prussia was happy to see the smile that graced the Crown Prince’s face. They arrived at the parade ground just in time to see the king dismiss his Giants. Trotting over to him, despite Frederick’s misgivings, Prussia greeted him.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing low in the saddle over his horse’s neck.
“Beilschmidt.”
“Father…” Frederick said, repeating his mentor’s actions.
“Frederick.” Frederick William looked at them both with contempt. “It’s about time you strolled over here.”
“I’m sorry, Father…”
“Sorry doesn’t begin-” the king began.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Prussia interrupted. “It’s all my fault. I had engaged His Highness in a lively debate about statecraft this morning and I failed to keep track of the time,” he lied.
“Oh,” Frederick William replied. “It must have been some debate,” he said dryly.
“It was and in the future, I promise to pay more attention to the time.”
The king snorted. “Don’t let it happen again, Beilschmidt. Understood?”
“Completely, Your Majesty,” Prussia said, somehow managing to sound properly contrite despite his mocking tone, and Frederick felt a pang of alarm as one never knew when his father would explode in anger.
Satisfied with his answer, Frederick William nodded and abruptly left them, much to Prussia’s relief as the man always brought out the worst in him and left him spoiling for a fight. Looking over at the Crown Prince, he was upset to see how pale he had gone. “Fritz, you okay?”
Frederick shook his head. He felt like he was about to burst into tears and it took him several minutes to calm down enough to able to speak. “I’m sorry, Herr Beilschmidt,” he said softly.
Prussia sighed. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“Yes, there is! He’s going to do something awful at dinner, I just know it!” Frederick said, his words coming out in a heated rush. Covering his mouth with his hand, the Crown Prince started to cry.
“Fritzchen,” Prussia said softly as he urged his horse closer. Both stallions eyed other warily and Blitzkrieg whickered and tossed his head. “Hey, easy, boy,” Prussia soothed.
“Herr Beilschmidt?”
“I was talking to Blitzkrieg.”
“Oh…” Frederick felt his cheeks heating up. He patted Tristan’s neck when his horse whinnied.
“But it also applies to you. Whatever stupidity your father comes up with tonight for his entertainment, I’ll deflect it onto myself as much as I can.” I haven’t gone head to head with the bastard in a while, so it ought to be fun…
A loud sob escaped Frederick’s lips. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“I’ve been through worse.” Prussia shrugged. He had often come to the Crown Prince’s aid where his father was concerned, letting the king vent his anger and frustration on him instead of his son. Since healed quicker than a mortal would, he bore those scars willingly, as a matter of pride in service to his future king. The fact that he genuinely liked Frederick made him want to protect the boy as he would have served whoever was next in line, just as he served the current king. Prussia had the feeling that if Frederick had been a lowly stable boy, instead of the Crown Prince, he still would have taken his lumps for him.
Frederick looked at him like he did not believe that for a second. “Last time you did that, he nearly beat you to death.”
“‘Nearly’ being the operative word here,” Prussia said wryly as he held up a hand, forestalling the Crown Prince’s argument. “Fritz, I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m too mean a son of a bitch to die on you and certainly not from a little thrashing.”
“My father broke a cane over your head, Herr Beilschmidt. I’d hardly call that a little thrashing.”
“Please don’t cry, Fritz, and I’m not saying that cuz it makes you look like a girl. I’m saying it cuz it hurts me to see you so upset.”
Frederick nodded. Wiping his tears away with the back of his hands, he looked straight ahead as he got his emotions under control. Having been on the receiving end of one of his father’s violent outbursts more times than he cared to remember, Frederick knew exactly what the king was capable of.
“Now,” Prussia began, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a cocky grin.
“What?” Frederick said, finally looking over at him and meeting Prussia’s amused gaze.
“How about I race you to our spot?” Prussia smirked.
“You’re on!” Frederick replied with a smirk of his own, his distress seemingly forgotten, but Prussia knew better. Determined to lift the Crown Prince’s spirits, he leaned forward in the saddle and gave Blitzkrieg a little kick. The Friesian gathered himself and cantered off, leaving Frederick behind. The Crown Prince quickly followed, urging his Trakehner into a gallop as the two raced through the parade grounds towards the meadow surrounding the palace. Tristan, being a smaller, slighter horse, easily caught up to Prussia’s larger, heavier warhorse.
They laughed as they raced, neither one caring that they had lost their hats. They simply exhilarated in the thrill of the race and the feel of the wind rushing by as their horses galloped at breakneck speed. They jumped low hedges and other small obstacles, scattering birds with their laughter and antics. Frederick won by dumb luck this time; Prussia nearly unseating himself when Blitzkrieg stumbled. He pulled the horse back, slowing him down to a canter, then a trot, before walking over to the Crown Prince.
“Well, done, Fritz!” Prussia said as he dismounted.
“Danke, Herr Beilschmidt.”
“We’re alone; you can call me ‘Gilbert.’”
“Gilbert it is then,” Frederick replied, giving his friend’s name a French lilt. He dismounted and tightly held Tristan’s bridle. Smelling water, the horse wanted to drink, but he needed to cool down first.
Prussia snorted in amusement. “What’s with you and that sissy language?”
“French is the language of culture.”
“You sound silly, no wonder you father calls you effeminate.”
Frederick huffed.
“I’m just telling you for your own good.” Prussia rubbed Blitzkrieg’s nose.
“I know…”
They led the horses over to the river and let them drink. When they had enough, they loosened the saddle girths and let them graze, while they sat nearby in the shade of the willow growing by the riverbank. They rested in companionable silence, enjoying the birds singing in the copse of trees across the river and the quiet rush of the water as it tumbled over some rocks where the river narrowed into rapids. Prussia stretched, and folding his hands behind his head, he leaned back against the tree, sighing contentedly.
Frederick giggled.
“What?” Prussia did his best to look past his elbow at the Crown Prince.
“You sound like an old man,” Frederick teased.
Prussia snorted. “I am an old man.”
“No you’re not,” Frederick said shyly. “Old men are cranky and ill tempered like my father. You’re funny and earthy and… you know.” He blushed. “You may have white hair for real, but you’re far from old, Herr Beil- I mean, Gilbert…”
“Danke.”
“Bitte.”
Prussia chuckled.
“Now what?” Frederick said as he leaned over and pushed down on Prussia’s elbow, in an effort to see him better.
Prussia shifted and when he did, Frederick almost fell on him. “Nothing, it’s just that you know how to speak German when it suits you,” he said as the Crown Prince locked gazes with him.
Minutes seemed to stretch into an eternity, before Frederick said so softly that Prussia was not even sure he had heard him correctly, “J'aimerais t'embrasser… Küss mich…” Leaning in and closing his eyes, Frederick brushed his lips against his friend’s. Pulling away, he sat back, refusing to meet Prussia’s gaze, as his cheeks heated up.
“Fritzchen…?”
“Yeah?”
“You know, if you’re going to kiss someone,” Prussia reached out, and cupping the Crown Prince’s cheek, he tilted his head up to look at him. “Kiss them like you mean it.” Leaning towards him, Prussia did just that. When they came up for air, Frederick surprised him by kissing him back a bit more forcefully, as if showing him what he had learned, before pulling away.
Frederick sat back, hugging his knees. He was so mortified by what he had done, that he wanted to get up and throw himself in the river, anything, but sit there and listen to his friend’s soft chuckling. “Shut up! It’s not funny!”
“I never said it was, Fritz. I was just amazed at what a quick learner you are.” Prussia smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “But I really shouldn’t be.”
“Yeah?” Frederick was intrigued, despite himself.
“Yeah… Look at how well you picked up statecraft and in such a short time too.” At the look on the Crown Prince’s face, he added, “I’m not making fun of you, Fritz, or belittling you in anyway. It just… It’s just that you, well, surprised me.”
“Oh…” Frederick sighed. “But I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Why? I didn’t mind in the least.” Prussia smiled. “You know, you’re not a bad kisser. And I mean that.”
Frederick nodded. “But…” He finally met Prussia’s gaze again and it tore at his heart when the Crown Prince’s eyes well up with unshed tears. “But when I kissed… Hans Hermann… and umm…” he looked away.
Prussia sighed. Even though some time had passed, von Katte’s death still troubled the Crown Prince. Prussia wondered what the two of them actually got up to if he was this upset over a kiss. Had some innocent kisses led to something more…? “Fritz?”
Trembling, as he took in a ragged breath, Frederick somehow managed to pull himself together. “I still can’t believe my father did that…”
“Are you having nightmares about it again?” Prussia said, the concern he felt for Frederick clearly heard in his voice. He frowned.
“No, thankfully I haven’t had any in awhile.”
“That’s good.” Prussia breathed a sigh of relief.
“Yeah…” Frederick leaned against his friend. When Prussia lifted his arm, he settled in. He loved it when Prussia put his arms around him, holding him close. He craved the attention and he marveled at how his friend always knew whenever he needed it the most. He put a tentative arm around Prussia as he was so afraid of the consequences if they got caught that it was hard to show affection towards his friend and mentor. The fact that his father thought he was an effeminate fop aside, he was deeply afraid for his friend’s life. Frederick had vowed to take his own life, something he kept from him, if the unthinkable happened to Prussia because of him.
Prussia shifted even so slightly and looked down at the Crown Prince. He smiled sadly, knowing the reason behind his hesitation. Oh, Fritz… He sighed softly. I wish I could make things better for you, but all can do is just wait with you and help you persevere… If it would have helped, I’d have strangled the bastard before he ever laid a hand on you, but I couldn’t… I can’t, he’s my ruler and I must obey him… But I think if he ever forbade me to see you, I’d grow a set of brass ones in a heartbeat and defy him… And maybe I can teach you how to be the man he should have been…
Frederick sighed as well.
“You okay, Fritz?”
“Yeah…” He sighed again. “I wish…”
“What?” Prussia rested his cheek on the top of Frederick’s head.
“I wish things were different even though I know it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid, no one wants a bastard like that for a father.”
Frederick nodded.”Maybe we should go so no one finds us here.”
“With our arms around each other like… lovers?”
“Yeah…” Frederick said as he pushed away from him and sat up. Getting to his feet, he brushed the dirt from his butt. “Besides, I’m hungry.”
Hungry for what…? Prussia mused when he got up and dusted himself off. “Would you like to have lunch in my quarters?”
“I umm…”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Fritz.”
“I know and uh,” Frederick looked up at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “I’d be happy to have lunch with you.
Prussia grinned in reply. “Come, let’s go get the horses.”
“Okay. Tristan!” Frederick called out.
The Trakehner stallion lifted his head and whinnied. When Prussia called out to his horse the Friesian trotted over, Tristan following behind. The horses waited while their owners tightened their girths, before mounting.
Kicking his heels against Blitzkrieg’s flanks, Prussia urged his horse forward. Frederick followed suit and the two of the slowly made their way to the palace stable. They went in the same direction they had come from and along the way, they were lucky to find their hats, with Prussia dismounting each time to go pick it up. By the time they had arrived, the mantel of their easy friendship was back, the kiss and the close intimacy of would-be lovers forgotten.
Lunch was a pleasant affair spent discussing French literature as compared to German. Afterwards, Frederick entertained his friend by playing a sonata, he had written for his sister, on his flute. “Bravo!” Prussia cried, clapping his hands.
Frederick blushed and clasping his flute close to his chest, he gave him a slight bow. “You should learn how to play, Gilbert.”
“I don’t know, Fritz. As much as I enjoy your playing, I don’t think I have it in me to play and even if I did, I wouldn’t be half as good as you.” Prussia reached for his wine glass and drank.
Frederick’s blush deepened. “Oh…”
Prussia nodded. “Why don’t you play something else for me?”
“Okay.” Raising his flute to his lips, Frederick played one of Prussia’s favorite pieces. He was happy his friend was pleased with his choice, even going so far as to whistle along with him. It was all the Crown Prince could do not to laugh.
While Prussia contemplated asking for lessons, a servant arrived with a message from the Crown Princess that she wanted to see her brother. Sighing softly, Frederick thanked him, before turning to his friend.
“It’s from Wilhelmina.”
“Yeah?”
Frederick nodded. “She wants to see me.”
“Then you’d better go, Fritz, in case it’s important.”
“Yeah…” Frederick said, although it was easy to see he was torn between remaining with his friend and go to see what his beloved sister wanted.
“You can always play for me later.”
Frederick smiled. “That’s true.”
“And, Fritz.”
“Yeah?”
“I promise not to miss you.” Prussia grinned.
The Crown Prince laughed. “And I promise to be back before you do. See you at dinner, then.”
“Until then.” Prussia got to see him out. They slowly walked to the door and Frederick gave him a shy little smile, before stepping over the threshold. Prussia stood there, watching him hurry off in the direction of the Crown Princess’ rooms. After he could no longer see him, Prussia turned and went back into his room. He walked over to his favorite chair by the window, where he spent the remainder of the afternoon, reading, until it was time to get ready for dinner.
Dinner was a typical affair. The food was edible if nothing else, the wine barely so. Prussia found the dinner conversation mediocre at best, not that he paid much attention to it. All of his attention was focused on Frederick. While the Crown Prince barely touched his food, Prussia was pleased to note, he at least was talking to his future brother-in-law like they were old friends. Quashing the pang of jealousy he felt, Prussia reached for his wineglass and drank. He let his gaze wander around the table, careful to not let it linger. There was a subtle undercurrent of tension in the air, although he was hard pressed to put his finger on it. The king had been in a good mood all week and Prussia was about to dismiss it as nonsense when Frederick William opened his mouth.
“Frederick, are you flirting with your sister’s husband?”
“No, Father!” he cried as everyone turned to stare at him.
Verdammt! Prussia thought. Here we go again… Why the hell can’t you leave the boy alone?!
“No?” Frederick William drawled as the low hum of conversation started up again in earnest.
“No, I swear it!”
The king looked at his future son-in-law. “Was he flirting with you, Frederick?”
The Margrave shook his head, but kept quiet, not wanting to get involved in the drama.
“He is a flirt,” Frederick William said as he pushed back from the table and stood. “He flirts with his former teacher all the time, doesn’t he, Beilschmidt?” The king walked around the table over to where Prussia sat; the soft clacking of his shoes and cane as it hit the ground stood out against the buzz of conversation.
“I wasn’t aware that he did, Your Majesty.” He grinned.
“No?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“Funny… That’s’ not what I’ve heard.” Frederick William tapped his cane loudly on the marble floor. His son, Frederick winced at the sound.
Gott in Himmel… Please, Gilbert, please don’t start with him… Frederick closed his eyes as he could not bear to watch what he knew was going to happen next.
“Perhaps you’re secret lovers? And don’t want that getting out? Hmmm?” Frederick William asked sweetly, although there was no mistaking the underlining malice behind the questions.
“If so, Your Majesty, then it’s so secret we were both unaware of it.”
“Oh really? Maybe you’re too stupid to be aware of it.” Frederick William raised his canes and brought it down on the table next to Prussia. While he did not flinch, Frederick and several of the nobility did. “Maybe I need to beat some sense in you.”
“If you say so, Your Majesty.”
“I do! Get up, Beilschmidt! Now!!” He raised the cane again.
Prussia got up and no sooner than he did so than the king began raining down blows on him. Frederick William took particular delight in abusing his son’s former tutor, blaming him for most of what he considered Frederick’s nonsense. Although he did try to shield himself from the brunt of it, Prussia still bore the beating stoically. Only when he broke his cane on Prussia’s forearm did he stop the abuse. He kicked him savagely in the shin, before limping back to his seat as if nothing happened.
Frederick William sat and reached for his wine. He sipped it, glaring over the rim at Prussia, who stood there, swaying slightly on his feet. With a little sound of disgust he called his son over to him. “Frederick!”
“Yes, Father?” The Crown Prince trembled in fear at becoming his father’s next target.
“Get him out of here,” he waved a hand in Prussia’s direction, “and while you’re at it, stay out of my sight as well.”
Frederick nodded. “Yes, Father.” He hurried to do as he was bidden. “Come, Herr Beilschmidt, let’s get you back to your room,” he said softly as he led Prussia away.
It was slow going as Prussia’s head was swimming as he tried to get one foot in front of the other. Despite barely being able to remain conscious, he had a strong desire to pick up the larger of the two pieces of broken cane and have a go at the king. “Not so fast, Fritz, “he said, slurring his words, “I need to sit down.”
“Okay.” Frederick looked around for a chair or a bench, something in the corridor out of the dining hall, but finding nothing, he gently eased his friend onto the floor. Taking his handkerchief from his sleeve, the Crown Prince held it to a gash on Prussia’s forehead. “Here, hold, this Gilbert, while I go get help.” He grabbed Prussia’s hand without thinking, ignoring the cry of pain, and said, “Sorry, Gilbert, but you can’t stay here on the floor and your head needs to be stitched. I’m going to get the field surgeon. I promise I won’t be long… Just hold that there as hard as you can. Remember? Like you told me to when I was little and Father hurt me?”
“Yeah…” Prussia croaked. He lay there, listening to Frederick’s retreating footsteps. He wished his head and arm did not hurt so bad, before he gave into the darkness and passed out. He woke up several hours later, to soft candlelight and the sweet sound of Frederick’s flute. He groaned loudly when he went to get more comfortable, prompting Frederick to stop playing.
“Gilbert…?”
“Hunh…?”
“How you feeling?”
Prussia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I feel like Blitzkrieg kicked me in the head… but I’ll live… I’ve had worse hangovers...” He grinned in spite of the pain.
Frederick rolled his eyes. “Only you would make light of my father’s cruelty.” He came over and stood close to the bed.
“Seriously, I’ll be fine…”
“I know, you’re to mean to up and die on me, but-”
“But nothing, Fritz…” Prussia swallowed, his throat feeling a bit dry. He tried not to cry out when the Crown Prince helped him up, before holding a cup of water to his lips. He drank just enough to wet his mouth. “I’m just… I’m just biding my time.”
“For what? You could have been killed and I don’t care how many times you say you’re too mean to die, one of these days he’s going to go too far!”
“Calm down… you’re making my head hurt.”
“Sorry, Gilbert.”
“It’s alright… Just play something… I want to sleep….”
Frederick raised his flute to his lips as he took a deep breath. Puckering his lips in a tight smile, he blew softly across his flute’s embouchure hole, his fingers dancing as he played one of Prussia’s favorite tunes.
The music was soothing as it reassured him that Frederick was alright. Prussia sighed softly as much as he wanted to remain awake for the impromptu concert, he felt his eyelids growing heavy as sleep threatened to claim him. He fought it for as long as he could; finally giving in when he felt Frederick’s warm hand gently caress his cheek.
