Sonata Nummer 9 pt1 (PrussiaxFritz)
“Gilbert...Gilbert, my beloved kingdom, look at me.”
The kingdom of Prussia raised his head, his sorrowful red eyes resting on the old man who was his most beloved king. Friedrich the Second of Prussia was watching him, his blue eyes shining with gentle adoration, his weathered, worn-out features softening as he looked upon his most beloved comrade and subject, his homeland.
The old king was dying. He knew it, the court knew it, his family knew it, and Prussia knew it too. Even if he didn’t want to believe it. To him, the years with Friedrich had seemed like days, a fleeting moment in his eyes.
New tears rose up in those blood-red orbs. No one would believe that this war-hungry nation could cry. But he would. In his very being, he could feel Friedrich’s life slip through his fingers like grains of sand. No matter how tightly he grasped at them, the grains went their own way, with no regard for his pain.
Gilbert loved Friedrich. He didn’t just love him because the Prussian people loved him, or because he had brought glory to Prussia. Gilbert loved Friedrich as a man, he loved him with every fibre of his being. He had known it would bring him great pain, because no human could possibly live as long as his kind did. This was why it was an unspoken rule between nations never to fall for their regent, or any human in general. But it still happened, and not just to Gilbert.
That didn’t lessen the impact of Friedrich’s impending death. Gilbert knelt in front of the old regent, his head level with Friedrich’s knee. His eyes held the silent plea for this man to stay, to stay with him, not to leave him behind.
It tore at Friedrich’s heart to see his beloved Prussia so downtrodden. There wasn’t much in the world that affected his proud nation. He himself had found closure with his end. He had achieved so much, made Prussia into a European superpower, had built enough to be remembered throughout history.
But now, he was causing this grief to Gilbert by leaving him. His nation could not die, he would live eternally with this pain. Friedrich laid a hand on Gilbert’s silvery head, fingers stroking lightly through the soft locks.
“Gilbert, please, I still live. You must not cry, you are a proud, strong nation. Don’t shed tears for an old man.”
“Fritz...”
The name fell as a whisper from Gilbert’s mouth. He swallowed heavily, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. But he saw the frail, aged body in front of him, he could feel the trembling of an unsteady hand in his hair.
“Please, my beloved Prussia, do not think of what is to come...Think of a more jovial time. Think of how I became your king...”
Gilbert nodded silently, closing his eyes and laying his head onto his old king’s warm leg. He remembered it like it was yesterday. Friedrich’s coronation and the joyful years that followed.
--1740--
The sun blazed brightly in the azure sky. It seemed even the heavens above were celebrating this day. The day that Friedrich the Second would ascend to the throne of Prussia, to become King in Prussia.
The future king had been preparing for his grand ceremony for days, and to be honest the young man was more than ready to be crowned, just so he could escape the bustling masses of people that demanded to have something to do with him.
All he wanted to do was to get out of the uncomfortable, yet impressive royal regalia and rule over his country in a sensible, quiet manner. Not in terms of politics. No, Friedrich had big plans for his kingdom. But he despised the hustle and bustle of a busy royal court. Some day, he would build himself a beautiful castle in which he would spend his time dedicated to music and philosophy...
Another Count had been announced. The future regent gave a sigh of discomfort as the page bustled from his chambers. For the first time in hours, he had a moment to himself. He wondered what awaited him. Though he knew the basics of his ceremony, there had been aspects mentioned of which he had never heard.
And there was that man. Friedrich had seen him around his father, he had escorted him like a bodyguard. This man was very pale, and his eyes shone like blood, or a vibrant fire. There was something feral about this ‘white man’, as he used to call him as a child.
He didn’t even know his name, or just what function he held. The crown-prince had never been introduced to him, and he had never heard his father, the old king, speak with the albino in the presence of Friedrich. He was important somehow, Friedrich could feel it.
And he was attractive. Though Friedrich had promised himself that nothing would take priority over the rule of his beloved kingdom, he couldn’t control the thoughts he had about the pale one.
But today, that would change. The pale one was always around his father, but now that Friedrich Wilhelm had died, he seemed to keep close to Fritz himself. It made the young regent curious. The way that everyone handled the pale-skinned individual made him guess he was important, almost like a guarded secret of the royal house of the Hohenzollern family.
His mother had made a few comments that made it sound as if the pale one was a personal servant to the king only.
Friedrich cast these thoughts aside. His coronation awaited, and finally he would be King in Prussia.
And soon, if his strategies and plans were to succeed, he could name himself King of Prussia.
He hated coronations. They were long, tiring, but most of all, they required him to pay attention to an individual who would proclaim themselves his lord, his regent. Gilbert hated being called a servant to a mere human. It was beneath the proud nation to respond to such a description.
This one was probably no different to his father. Friedrich Wilhelm, the so-called soldier-king, had been a volatile man. Gilbert couldn’t despise him, after all, he had stabilized Prussia’s economy, and had strengthened the military considerably.
And yet he had never let Gilbert use his splendid military might. He horded his riches, built his army, and remained diplomatic. But Gilbert burned for war, for the clash of swords, for the thunder of cannon-fire, and for the glorious victory over his enemies.
Austria, Sweden, France, Russia, Hungary...All very possible targets for his attack. And yet he was chained like a dog, only able to run to the end of his chain and bark.
But now the soldier-king was dead, and his son would have to overcome his father’s shadow. And war was the perfect opportunity, in Gilbert’s eyes. Friedrich the second would be his tool to do as he pleased, after all, what he had heard about the boy was not exactly proof of a tough character. He enjoyed music, philosophy and poetry. Such artistic interest was foreign to Gilbert, and he suspected him to be a weak coward.
How was Prussia to know how wrong he was, and that this ‘weak coward’ would be his greatest, most beloved regent? How was he to know that he would fatally fall in love with this artistic fool?
He couldn’t have. Even nations can’t predict the future.
And right now, he was late for the ceremony. Quickly, his legs carried him to the hall in which it would take place, taking secret shortcuts and squeezing himself past servants and guests. No matter if he liked or disliked his new king, he had to be at his side from now on til his death. Or removal from his throne. It was Gilbert’s duty.
Although his new king certainly had one thing that made Gilbert soften his harsh opinion of him slightly. His new, freshly crowned king was damn attractive. He had an almost magnetic effect on Prussia. Gilbert remained silent throughout the ceremony.
The general public and the nobility of Prussia did not know who and what Gilbert was. They assumed he was the personal guard of the king, not exactly a person of interest. If he should speak in front of all these people, they would feel it, hear it in his voice. Almost taste it in the air. He was after all, a piece of all of them, and they were pieces of him.
So Prussia listened with a neutral expression to the promises of his new king, until he heard a certain sentence which immediately brought a smirk to his lips. Friedrich the second had just proclaimed to be the first servant of his state. Oh, if he only had an idea of what awaited him later, he would have noticed the irony of his words.
So he was his first servant hm? Gilbert would make him fulfil that promise. Oh yes.
Friedrich was exhausted. There was absolutely no other description for the state he was in. Pure exhaustion. Had there always been so many nobles in his court? Had every new king had to drink so much to toast to his kingdom?
It was a couple of minutes past one in the morning, when a tap on the arm made Friedrich jump out of a half-dozing nap. Light blue eyes had to adjust and focus on the perpetrator, then a hazy brain recognized the man standing next to him as the pale bodyguard. What was his name again? Did Friedrich even know his name?
Apparently not, because the man leaned down to his ear, and spoke with a gravelly voice that sent shivers down Friedrich’s spine.
“My king, my name is Gilbert. There is one more ceremony for you to fulfil. And for that, you must follow me now, quietly, your majesty.”
Something seemed to stirring in his stomach, a tingling of excitement. Would he finally find out what this pale...what this Gilbert’s function was?
As stealthily as he could, he rose to his feet. He looked into his tableround, but his guests seemed to have had a few too many measures of the fine wine that had been served. Even his wife, Christine Elisabeth who usually held back on drinking looked rather rosy. This didn’t stir anything in Friedrich at all.
The marriage to that woman had been arranged and was purely political. He spent as little time as possible in her presence. From a rather young age, Friedrich had known women held no charms as partners to him. He met the occasional interesting personage, but as lovers...He preferred men.
Like the attractive albino that was leading him away from his own feast now.
Just what was this ceremony he had known nothing of? Was it a secret of the state? Or a special circumstance for his coronation? So many questions that he did not dare ask, and yet, his heart pounded with excitement and anticipation.
The kingdom of Prussia raised his head, his sorrowful red eyes resting on the old man who was his most beloved king. Friedrich the Second of Prussia was watching him, his blue eyes shining with gentle adoration, his weathered, worn-out features softening as he looked upon his most beloved comrade and subject, his homeland.
The old king was dying. He knew it, the court knew it, his family knew it, and Prussia knew it too. Even if he didn’t want to believe it. To him, the years with Friedrich had seemed like days, a fleeting moment in his eyes.
New tears rose up in those blood-red orbs. No one would believe that this war-hungry nation could cry. But he would. In his very being, he could feel Friedrich’s life slip through his fingers like grains of sand. No matter how tightly he grasped at them, the grains went their own way, with no regard for his pain.
Gilbert loved Friedrich. He didn’t just love him because the Prussian people loved him, or because he had brought glory to Prussia. Gilbert loved Friedrich as a man, he loved him with every fibre of his being. He had known it would bring him great pain, because no human could possibly live as long as his kind did. This was why it was an unspoken rule between nations never to fall for their regent, or any human in general. But it still happened, and not just to Gilbert.
That didn’t lessen the impact of Friedrich’s impending death. Gilbert knelt in front of the old regent, his head level with Friedrich’s knee. His eyes held the silent plea for this man to stay, to stay with him, not to leave him behind.
It tore at Friedrich’s heart to see his beloved Prussia so downtrodden. There wasn’t much in the world that affected his proud nation. He himself had found closure with his end. He had achieved so much, made Prussia into a European superpower, had built enough to be remembered throughout history.
But now, he was causing this grief to Gilbert by leaving him. His nation could not die, he would live eternally with this pain. Friedrich laid a hand on Gilbert’s silvery head, fingers stroking lightly through the soft locks.
“Gilbert, please, I still live. You must not cry, you are a proud, strong nation. Don’t shed tears for an old man.”
“Fritz...”
The name fell as a whisper from Gilbert’s mouth. He swallowed heavily, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. But he saw the frail, aged body in front of him, he could feel the trembling of an unsteady hand in his hair.
“Please, my beloved Prussia, do not think of what is to come...Think of a more jovial time. Think of how I became your king...”
Gilbert nodded silently, closing his eyes and laying his head onto his old king’s warm leg. He remembered it like it was yesterday. Friedrich’s coronation and the joyful years that followed.
--1740--
The sun blazed brightly in the azure sky. It seemed even the heavens above were celebrating this day. The day that Friedrich the Second would ascend to the throne of Prussia, to become King in Prussia.
The future king had been preparing for his grand ceremony for days, and to be honest the young man was more than ready to be crowned, just so he could escape the bustling masses of people that demanded to have something to do with him.
All he wanted to do was to get out of the uncomfortable, yet impressive royal regalia and rule over his country in a sensible, quiet manner. Not in terms of politics. No, Friedrich had big plans for his kingdom. But he despised the hustle and bustle of a busy royal court. Some day, he would build himself a beautiful castle in which he would spend his time dedicated to music and philosophy...
Another Count had been announced. The future regent gave a sigh of discomfort as the page bustled from his chambers. For the first time in hours, he had a moment to himself. He wondered what awaited him. Though he knew the basics of his ceremony, there had been aspects mentioned of which he had never heard.
And there was that man. Friedrich had seen him around his father, he had escorted him like a bodyguard. This man was very pale, and his eyes shone like blood, or a vibrant fire. There was something feral about this ‘white man’, as he used to call him as a child.
He didn’t even know his name, or just what function he held. The crown-prince had never been introduced to him, and he had never heard his father, the old king, speak with the albino in the presence of Friedrich. He was important somehow, Friedrich could feel it.
And he was attractive. Though Friedrich had promised himself that nothing would take priority over the rule of his beloved kingdom, he couldn’t control the thoughts he had about the pale one.
But today, that would change. The pale one was always around his father, but now that Friedrich Wilhelm had died, he seemed to keep close to Fritz himself. It made the young regent curious. The way that everyone handled the pale-skinned individual made him guess he was important, almost like a guarded secret of the royal house of the Hohenzollern family.
His mother had made a few comments that made it sound as if the pale one was a personal servant to the king only.
Friedrich cast these thoughts aside. His coronation awaited, and finally he would be King in Prussia.
And soon, if his strategies and plans were to succeed, he could name himself King of Prussia.
He hated coronations. They were long, tiring, but most of all, they required him to pay attention to an individual who would proclaim themselves his lord, his regent. Gilbert hated being called a servant to a mere human. It was beneath the proud nation to respond to such a description.
This one was probably no different to his father. Friedrich Wilhelm, the so-called soldier-king, had been a volatile man. Gilbert couldn’t despise him, after all, he had stabilized Prussia’s economy, and had strengthened the military considerably.
And yet he had never let Gilbert use his splendid military might. He horded his riches, built his army, and remained diplomatic. But Gilbert burned for war, for the clash of swords, for the thunder of cannon-fire, and for the glorious victory over his enemies.
Austria, Sweden, France, Russia, Hungary...All very possible targets for his attack. And yet he was chained like a dog, only able to run to the end of his chain and bark.
But now the soldier-king was dead, and his son would have to overcome his father’s shadow. And war was the perfect opportunity, in Gilbert’s eyes. Friedrich the second would be his tool to do as he pleased, after all, what he had heard about the boy was not exactly proof of a tough character. He enjoyed music, philosophy and poetry. Such artistic interest was foreign to Gilbert, and he suspected him to be a weak coward.
How was Prussia to know how wrong he was, and that this ‘weak coward’ would be his greatest, most beloved regent? How was he to know that he would fatally fall in love with this artistic fool?
He couldn’t have. Even nations can’t predict the future.
And right now, he was late for the ceremony. Quickly, his legs carried him to the hall in which it would take place, taking secret shortcuts and squeezing himself past servants and guests. No matter if he liked or disliked his new king, he had to be at his side from now on til his death. Or removal from his throne. It was Gilbert’s duty.
Although his new king certainly had one thing that made Gilbert soften his harsh opinion of him slightly. His new, freshly crowned king was damn attractive. He had an almost magnetic effect on Prussia. Gilbert remained silent throughout the ceremony.
The general public and the nobility of Prussia did not know who and what Gilbert was. They assumed he was the personal guard of the king, not exactly a person of interest. If he should speak in front of all these people, they would feel it, hear it in his voice. Almost taste it in the air. He was after all, a piece of all of them, and they were pieces of him.
So Prussia listened with a neutral expression to the promises of his new king, until he heard a certain sentence which immediately brought a smirk to his lips. Friedrich the second had just proclaimed to be the first servant of his state. Oh, if he only had an idea of what awaited him later, he would have noticed the irony of his words.
So he was his first servant hm? Gilbert would make him fulfil that promise. Oh yes.
Friedrich was exhausted. There was absolutely no other description for the state he was in. Pure exhaustion. Had there always been so many nobles in his court? Had every new king had to drink so much to toast to his kingdom?
It was a couple of minutes past one in the morning, when a tap on the arm made Friedrich jump out of a half-dozing nap. Light blue eyes had to adjust and focus on the perpetrator, then a hazy brain recognized the man standing next to him as the pale bodyguard. What was his name again? Did Friedrich even know his name?
Apparently not, because the man leaned down to his ear, and spoke with a gravelly voice that sent shivers down Friedrich’s spine.
“My king, my name is Gilbert. There is one more ceremony for you to fulfil. And for that, you must follow me now, quietly, your majesty.”
Something seemed to stirring in his stomach, a tingling of excitement. Would he finally find out what this pale...what this Gilbert’s function was?
As stealthily as he could, he rose to his feet. He looked into his tableround, but his guests seemed to have had a few too many measures of the fine wine that had been served. Even his wife, Christine Elisabeth who usually held back on drinking looked rather rosy. This didn’t stir anything in Friedrich at all.
The marriage to that woman had been arranged and was purely political. He spent as little time as possible in her presence. From a rather young age, Friedrich had known women held no charms as partners to him. He met the occasional interesting personage, but as lovers...He preferred men.
Like the attractive albino that was leading him away from his own feast now.
Just what was this ceremony he had known nothing of? Was it a secret of the state? Or a special circumstance for his coronation? So many questions that he did not dare ask, and yet, his heart pounded with excitement and anticipation.