FIC: In Dust, You Conquer - Chapter 1
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Title: In Dust, You Conquer - Chapter 1
Length: 1,740 words
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Genre: aww, fluff!
Characters, Pairings: fem!Prussia, young!Germany age 5-ish
Summary: They were never bound by anything concrete; not blood nor politics. But this was why they became family.
Notes: Related directly to As Coarse As Diamond. Also filled for the Hetalia Kink Meme.
In short, this story is about how Germany grows up. One of two chapters.
Little West gazed up in reverent awe.
Prussia was dressed magnificently; plumed tricorne, black neckstock, cobalt blue coat with red cuffs and turnbacks under which she wore a straw coloured waistcoat and white crossbelt. Her scabbard slung low across her hips and her jackboots shone like a polished mirror. She was barking orders to members of her regiment but he heard nothing as he took in the sight of her. He had never seen her drawn up like a soldier before, august and shining with her shoulders back and her chest out. Transfixed, Little West did not realise the flurry of activity all around him until someone accidentally smacked into him and sent him tumbling to the floor. He was only vaguely aware of the laughter and apology as Prussia knelt by his side and cradled him in her arms.
“You’re gonna catch a fly with your mouth hanging open like that.”
A roar of laughter followed but Little West merely gazed on as Prussia lifted him to his feet and ruffled his hair. He wanted desperately to say something, anything, but he could not speak. Instead, he peered at her quietly as she conversed, fingers clutching hers as she continued to make plans for war. She was so handsome and strong, he felt. He wanted to stand as tall as she did, dress as smartly, laugh and joke and ride alongside her into battle. He was too little, she always told him, he could not even read or drink beer, much less ride a horse or fire a cannon. He wanted so to be able to do all those things, to read and drink and ride and shoot, that she would take him along with her to war, trust him to don the blue and sing the songs. She kissed his forehead and told him to run along. He saw, for the first time, her broad shoulders and wide back as she mounted her musket upon her shoulder and marched off with the other soldiers. For the first time, he realised what it meant to yearn.
-----
“He’s so little and he doesn’t look a thing like you.”
Prussia smacked someone up the head but her grin did not fade. Laughter swelled. Steins pounded against the table. Little West’s head was lowered but he looked up at the soldiers shyly, only understanding their words a little as he sat by Prussia’s side. She put an arm around his shoulders.
“Don’t be a whoreson, Dieter. He’s going to grow up big and strong like me, just you watch.”
“That’d be a treat!”
“If strength runs in the family, I’d run far away from you Beilschmidts.”
They laughed again, Prussia the loudest by far. Someone yelled for beer and another egged her to show off her muscles. With a laugh, she threw off her jacket and rolled up a sleeve, flexing her bicep for all to see, as dramatically as she could manage. They oohed and aahed, whistled and cheered as beer flowed freely and put them in a great humour. Little West touched her arm, squeezed the muscle, taken aback by how firm and solid it felt.
“Oh, the little one’s impressed, Beilschmidt!”
“Show him your scars!”
“Give us a show!”
Without an ounce of shame, Prussia flashed them a grin before she pulled Little West up to sit on her knee. She rolled her sleeve all the way up to her shoulder, baring a long gash that ran down to her elbow.
“See that? Got that fighting those damned Austrians in Soor. Shot at and cut up with a bayonet.”
“Soor!” The men toasted, downing their pints.
She pulled the collar of her shirt down, low enough that a long scar could be seen running over the ridges of her collarbone but not so low that her chest bindings were visible.
“And this, this beauty I got from a hussar in Hohenfriedberg with the Bayreuth Dragoons.”
“The Dragoons!” They cheered even louder, toasting each other’s health.
Prussia lifted her shirt up to bare a cross-shaped scar on her stomach.
“At Kesselsdorf, a grenadier thought to skewer me before the Prussian cavalry charged and made the Saxons run away with their tails between their legs.”
“Prussia!” And that was the loudest cheer of them all.
As Prussia made to dress herself properly once again, she halted at the feel of soft little palms pressing gently against her stomach. She looked at the boy who was so intently staring at the scar, tracing it and the contours of her muscles out with his fingertips like he wanted to hold it in his hands. It tickled slightly but she was overcome with some emotion she could not name and grinned down at him proudly. She touched his hair and he looked up at her.
“Don’t listen to these idiots, Little West,” she said. “It doesn’t matter if you can’t talk or hold a sword. You’ll grow even bigger and stronger than me one day, mark my words.”
For the first time, she saw his eyes light up.
-----
Little West’s first word had been, “Hello,” which insofar as first words go was a rather sensible one, albeit friendly and a very good estimate of his character.
He spoke haltingly, as though he knew what he wanted to say but couldn’t quite remember what words sounded like. He mixed things up sometimes and certain letters didn’t come out exactly right but even through her excitement, Prussia knew enough to let him take his time. She encouraged him to speak, asked him questions, engaged him in simple little conversations until he found himself talking without reluctant pauses and with the growing crescendo children often used when they became excited. It was a joy to see life in his pretty blue eyes, in the way he moved his hands and stammered his words. He was a shy child, even with her, but she could always see the look in his eyes that made him want to speak with her even if he was too intimidated to.
Prussia didn’t understand it herself but she humoured the boy, willingly and often. He lingered in front of the study door, ushered in by passing servants or by Prussia herself if she chanced to see him. He was content to just sit near her and watch her work, something that had made her feel unsettled at first, a sentiment echoed by her superiors. Once she introduced him to pen and ink, even the grumbles of the king meant nothing to her. He spilled ink everywhere, on the floor, on the paperwork, on his shirts, sometimes even on other people, and even though he always seemed sorry about it afterwards, she never once found it in herself to be angry with him. His drawings were often nonsensical or too abstract for her eye, but Little West always did things so seriously that his earnestness was endearing. However, once his phase with the pen was through, he turned his attention to the books in the room. The king only too happily supplied one of his erudite friends to teach him how to read and write. In this occupation, Little West’s earnestness excelled.
“Will you read me a story, sister?”
He asked with his big blue eyes that shone with such reverence and longing that Prussia could never find it in her to deny him or halt the words ‘sister’ from his lips. She did not know what it meant to raise a child, her own childhood had been a patchwork of peace and violence and running and resting, and tried to remember the lessons she learned from watching her human lords with their children. She set boundaries between them, upheld rules that little princes obeyed and the boy obeyed only too willingly. He was a little angel who did his best to please her and so she read him his stories and put him to bed before the hour turned late.
One night in the dark, she heard him cry in his sleep as she idled in front of his room. Prussia went to his side to stroke his hair and he clung to her, burying his face in her chest. When he refused to let her go, she carried him in her arms and brought him to her own bed, where he watched her read by his side until his eyes fluttered shut. She held him against her as she turned in for the night, wondered why such a little thing trusted her so intimately against the monsters that lurked in his dreams. She was his master, even if she did not feel as such. His awe of her was not unfounded. She tried to remind herself not to submit to the folly of the other imperial powers. Boundaries existed for a reason, and already she had broken half of them through sheer leniency.
There was a quiet knock on her door, days later.
Prussia answered, looking down at the child with a wry smile. More monsters to fight.
“I beg your pardon for disturbing you at this late hour,” he said, polite as a duke, and silently she marvelled at how much education had improved his speech. “But may I please sleep with you tonight, sister?”
Prussia stepped aside to let him through. “Nightmares, kid?”
“No, sister.”
He tried to climb onto her bed but succeeded only with a little boost from her. As she tucked him in and stroked away his bangs, she realised that he was watching her in that quiet little way he always did.
“Something you want to say?”
“Are you… angry with me?”
“No, just wondering why you want to sleep with me is all.”
“Well… You never really like it when I’m around, do you?”
She was taken aback at this. “What makes you say that?”
“I want to be with you but you don’t want to be with me.”
Prussia blinked. “You want to… what?”
“I feel lonely when you don’t talk to me. Ever since I started learning how to read and write, you never speak to me anymore.”
“You… want to speak with me?”
“Is it wrong of me?”
“Well… no. But why?”
And he looked up at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because I love you, sister.”
Prussia stared at him for the longest moment before she broke into a smile.
Chapter 2