Cross-posted from Hetachallenge
Title:Wistful Thinking
Author: kira
Claim: Prussia
Character(s): Prussia, Frederick II (mentioned), Germany
Table/Prompt: Angst/ Prompt # 20; Remember
Word Count: 921
Rating: PG13 for talk of character death
Summary: Prussia remembers Old Fritz…
Author’s note: Thanks go out to my beta, Jen, for looking this over & suggesting a title.
Prussia hated remembering because it hurt too much. Even though centuries had passed since Frederick’s death, all it took was something seemingly innocuous and the memories would come flooding in and it would be like he had just lost him all over again. Some days were worse than others, like birthdays and anniversaries, for they would either remind Prussia of a similar incident, or worse yet they would get him thinking as to how much his beloved Fritz would have liked it.
Sighing softly, Prussia changed the channel and reached for his beer. He drank it, recalling all the times, he and Frederick would drink after a hard fought battle, or during one the king’s lavish parties at San Souci, or in one of many taverns and inns along the way from the palace to San Souci. He sighed as he changed the channel back to the show on Frederick’s summer home.
This time when the memories came flooding back, Prussia found himself thinking about how much Frederick loved his little Weinberghäuschen. The king had always referred to his summer palace as his little wine house, especially since it did have a terraced vineyard, but mostly because it was tiny as palaces went by the standards of the day. As he watched the show, Prussia remembered that was the point; to have a small intimate place where Frederick could be alone with his thoughts if he wanted to, not to mention someplace as far from the bullshit of the court as possible.
Prussia smiled as he recalled many happy summers there. Despite Voltaire’s obnoxious presence, he did manage to have plenty of quiet intimate moments with his beloved king. Even when he could not have a minute alone with Frederick, the other guests were fun. Prussia remembered going to concerts given by the king, when the scene, in the show, shifted to a look inside the theater. For a tiny country estate of a palace that only had ten rooms, Frederick had packed a lot of things into it as evidenced by the numerous satellite buildings and rooms that in his day did double duty.
When his brother came into the den to see how he was doing, Prussia was surprised he was not feeling the least bit sad. “I’m fine, West. Why don’t you sit and watch with me? It’s nearly done, but at least you’ll get a glimpse what my summers were like.” He patted the sofa next to him.
Germany sat down. “I remember this show.”
“Yeah?”
Germany nodded. “I watched it with Italy, when we visited Japan last spring. It’s actually a show his people made. It was interesting watching it in Japanese and I least I understood what little German there was.”
Prussia laughed. “Come to think of it, that’s right, it is Japanese. I first saw it last year when we visited America for the World 8 meeting. You were out with Itachen and I was stuck in the hotel room with a headache, and I remember the closing credits had all these Japanese names. Not a bad show from some people who don’t have the same attachment to Old Fritz.”
“Not at all, but I doubt anyone has the same attachment you do, Bruder,” Germany said.
“What can I say? I’m just awesome that way.” Prussia grinned. His expression softening, he said, “You know, I think Fritz would be pleased.”
“Why?”
“Well, you’re taking an interest and not perverting it for your own gain,” he held up a hand, “I know it was our Arschloch boss who did that, still… Oh, fuck it! I don’t want to get into that! Anyway, what I was going to say is, this is the first time, West, I’ve thought about him and the memories didn’t leave a great big gaping hole in my chest. I still miss him like hell, but it doesn’t hurt the way it used to.”
Germany nodded. “Italy says it’s the same with Holy Roman Empire. He still misses him and wishes he was still alive so that I could meet him, but at least the pain’s gone whenever he thinks about him. I guess you’re both healed?”
“Possibly.” Prussia shrugged and drank his beer as the credits for the show scrolled by on the TV. “Whatever it is, I’m just glad it doesn’t hurt to remember him.” He patted his brother on the knee. “I think I’m going to get out my diaries from that time and read them again.”
“You sure that’s wise, Bruder?”
Prussia thought it over. “Yeah. Fritz’s life was hard in the beginning, hell, so was mine, but look at how awesome I turned out,” he smirked.”Fritz did too. You know if you ever want to read them, you can.”
“Thanks, Bruder.”
“Stop fretting, West. I’ll be fine. I survived being separated from you and living in Russia’s house, so a few bittersweet memories aren’t going to kill me.” Prussia grabbed his beer and stood up to go downstairs to his room.
“Okay…”
Prussia grinned and said, “Later, West.” He left the room. He’s a good kid, Fritz; you’d have liked him… He’s a serious lil thing like you, now if only I could get him to relax… Wish you were here to teach him how to play the flute…
Lost in his memories, Prussia headed downstairs to his room. Once there, he grabbed a diary and began reading about when he first met Frederick the Great. Those were some happy and not so happy times, eh, Fritz…?
Author: kira
Claim: Prussia
Character(s): Prussia, Frederick II (mentioned), Germany
Table/Prompt: Angst/ Prompt # 20; Remember
Word Count: 921
Rating: PG13 for talk of character death
Summary: Prussia remembers Old Fritz…
Author’s note: Thanks go out to my beta, Jen, for looking this over & suggesting a title.
Prussia hated remembering because it hurt too much. Even though centuries had passed since Frederick’s death, all it took was something seemingly innocuous and the memories would come flooding in and it would be like he had just lost him all over again. Some days were worse than others, like birthdays and anniversaries, for they would either remind Prussia of a similar incident, or worse yet they would get him thinking as to how much his beloved Fritz would have liked it.
Sighing softly, Prussia changed the channel and reached for his beer. He drank it, recalling all the times, he and Frederick would drink after a hard fought battle, or during one the king’s lavish parties at San Souci, or in one of many taverns and inns along the way from the palace to San Souci. He sighed as he changed the channel back to the show on Frederick’s summer home.
This time when the memories came flooding back, Prussia found himself thinking about how much Frederick loved his little Weinberghäuschen. The king had always referred to his summer palace as his little wine house, especially since it did have a terraced vineyard, but mostly because it was tiny as palaces went by the standards of the day. As he watched the show, Prussia remembered that was the point; to have a small intimate place where Frederick could be alone with his thoughts if he wanted to, not to mention someplace as far from the bullshit of the court as possible.
Prussia smiled as he recalled many happy summers there. Despite Voltaire’s obnoxious presence, he did manage to have plenty of quiet intimate moments with his beloved king. Even when he could not have a minute alone with Frederick, the other guests were fun. Prussia remembered going to concerts given by the king, when the scene, in the show, shifted to a look inside the theater. For a tiny country estate of a palace that only had ten rooms, Frederick had packed a lot of things into it as evidenced by the numerous satellite buildings and rooms that in his day did double duty.
When his brother came into the den to see how he was doing, Prussia was surprised he was not feeling the least bit sad. “I’m fine, West. Why don’t you sit and watch with me? It’s nearly done, but at least you’ll get a glimpse what my summers were like.” He patted the sofa next to him.
Germany sat down. “I remember this show.”
“Yeah?”
Germany nodded. “I watched it with Italy, when we visited Japan last spring. It’s actually a show his people made. It was interesting watching it in Japanese and I least I understood what little German there was.”
Prussia laughed. “Come to think of it, that’s right, it is Japanese. I first saw it last year when we visited America for the World 8 meeting. You were out with Itachen and I was stuck in the hotel room with a headache, and I remember the closing credits had all these Japanese names. Not a bad show from some people who don’t have the same attachment to Old Fritz.”
“Not at all, but I doubt anyone has the same attachment you do, Bruder,” Germany said.
“What can I say? I’m just awesome that way.” Prussia grinned. His expression softening, he said, “You know, I think Fritz would be pleased.”
“Why?”
“Well, you’re taking an interest and not perverting it for your own gain,” he held up a hand, “I know it was our Arschloch boss who did that, still… Oh, fuck it! I don’t want to get into that! Anyway, what I was going to say is, this is the first time, West, I’ve thought about him and the memories didn’t leave a great big gaping hole in my chest. I still miss him like hell, but it doesn’t hurt the way it used to.”
Germany nodded. “Italy says it’s the same with Holy Roman Empire. He still misses him and wishes he was still alive so that I could meet him, but at least the pain’s gone whenever he thinks about him. I guess you’re both healed?”
“Possibly.” Prussia shrugged and drank his beer as the credits for the show scrolled by on the TV. “Whatever it is, I’m just glad it doesn’t hurt to remember him.” He patted his brother on the knee. “I think I’m going to get out my diaries from that time and read them again.”
“You sure that’s wise, Bruder?”
Prussia thought it over. “Yeah. Fritz’s life was hard in the beginning, hell, so was mine, but look at how awesome I turned out,” he smirked.”Fritz did too. You know if you ever want to read them, you can.”
“Thanks, Bruder.”
“Stop fretting, West. I’ll be fine. I survived being separated from you and living in Russia’s house, so a few bittersweet memories aren’t going to kill me.” Prussia grabbed his beer and stood up to go downstairs to his room.
“Okay…”
Prussia grinned and said, “Later, West.” He left the room. He’s a good kid, Fritz; you’d have liked him… He’s a serious lil thing like you, now if only I could get him to relax… Wish you were here to teach him how to play the flute…
Lost in his memories, Prussia headed downstairs to his room. Once there, he grabbed a diary and began reading about when he first met Frederick the Great. Those were some happy and not so happy times, eh, Fritz…?