Together We Fall: Prompts 8-11

008: Future

The most common thoughts that now perhaps crossed the king's mind were questions of the future. Perhaps it was a side effect from the old age that had settled. He certainly was not going to be around for much longer anymore, and that much he was all too well aware of. it was the curse of humanity to one day die. He accepted the ultimatum, but he was not too worried about it. What he was worried about was the affairs of the state after he had entered the grave, and what it would be like then when he was no longer alive. What would the earth be like a hundred years from now- or maybe two? How would his nation fare? Or his people? Or the rest of the world?

He wished at times, that he would be there to witness it, but obviously- that was not meant to be.

"Hey- Fritz." Prussia gently tapped his shoulder, as if he was too fragile to handle anything harder," You're spacing out."

The immortal man looked like he always had remembered him, time not having touched at all his features- which were the same as when Fritz had first laid eyes on his nation. Red irises met his own wary greys in concern as the old king set down his quill.

"Prussia." his voice was tired, more tired then the albino had ever recalled hearing it," Can you promise me this?"

His nation nodded without hesitation, holding back the guilt that had welled up inside him and threatened to break the wall that was now crumbling into ruin in so many places. He knew that Frederick's candle had almost reached its end- and he dreaded every second passing that marked the end of the final path. He still loved Fritz with all his heart, but that was causing more pain then anything he had ever experienced.

"I am aware of what Fate has in store for me," the king said with a sad smile which made Prussia's chest constirct with pain," Promise me that you will watch over my nephew and guide over him like you had guided me when I was young. Don't let yourself fall...and please..."

He said the next words so quietly Gilbert had to strain to hear them.

"I...please, do not forget me."

Suddenly, the world seemed to shrink, until it comprised of no one but them. The king who accepted reality. The nation who still refused to look at it, his tears threatening to fall out of the wells. He didn't want any of this. He didn't want Fritz to die and leave and...and...

"For the love of Gott," the albino whispered," I won't forget you, Fritz. How could I? You've been everything to me. No one can take your spot- and no one will- ever."

It wasn't too late yet. They still had a few years left, at least- Prussia would reflect whilst wiping his burning eyes. he would make those times count, and he would never let go of Fritz's memory after, when it was all over. Frederick was the greatest ruler he had every had, and his nation's entire world was set on his shoulders. They could be still together for a little while longer...just a while longer, until the inevitable goodbye...

009: Steal (Fritz meeting France at Versailles. Follow up of Fashion.)

There was something about the man that made France's heart beat faster than its usual rate, and that was saying much, for he had thought that he already had seen most of whatever beauty (physical or not) that the world had yet to offer. But as it all were, Frederick the Great- the renowned king of Prussia, made famous even in the gilded halls of the Versailles court- was not beautiful. He was too grim, too cynical, too wrung out and tired from the demands of his nation, subjects, and war to fit in with the rest of the gentry that resided.

The blond knew what sort of people lived under the palace roof. Amicable people, yes, stunning people, yes- but the vast majority of them were empty people. There were courtiers who never extended their speech beyond race horses and the latest fashions of the day, ladies who talked of nothing more than dresses and hair ribbons and which man held the most attractive face. Certainly, France liked their company- for he did not care for much of a person's value extending beyond a good face and an appreciation of l'amour, but he knew that Frederick needed a lot more than tangible beauty for appreciated company. He held the superiority of the mind over less important trivialities, and that was what differed him from the much of the court, and even too, the nation himself. But there was something- just something that made him more interesting than the pigeons back at the golden fountain.

Here was a crow, but a shrewd one, a refreshing one. France appreciated the lightning fast wit, a trait that the Prussian monarch was avidly known for. It was glad to converse about, for once- something of relevant matter and not of another too overused frivolity. Yes, the blond decided, Frederick was an interesting individual. Very, very, interesting in contrast to his hooligan of a nation.

"Monsieur, it is a charming place you have. I see D'Argens was not exaggerating when he spoke of the splendour of Versailles upon my inquiry." the king said in flawless French that the said immortal smile in delight at seeing the appreciation of his language in a Germanic country, "Of course, it is expected of a nation like yours."

And he had a splendid speaking voice too- a soft tenor, not too forceful, that carried his point across perfectly without waver. Now, if only that voice sounded slightly more human, not as impassive and blank as it was, then Francis would have liked it all the more. What was the man hiding? Fear? An inkling of trepidation? Or was it awe?

He was in no way a stranger to it. Europe was mostly in love with him and his culture now, anyway. But was it awe in Frederick's eyes, or simply clouded surprise at seeing another immortal personification aside from le Preusse? Perhaps it was both. The thought of it made the perverse side of him grin in lechery.

"It is an honour, coming from you, and in my own language no less! I am flattered, your majesty. Few Germans have a hold en français like you that I have heard of. Now just master Greek, and Berlin would truly be the Athens of Europe."

The king's hackles lowered a little bit, and some of the tension that had been making his back as stiff as a rod left at the praise and the amusing jest. He smiled too, not a strained one or a bitter one- but a glad one, one that made him not just interesting in spirit anymore, softened the hard lines in on his face into a visage that France dared to call handsome.

Blue eyes darted from greys to the door behind them, checking that it was indeed closed, and that Prussia was still on the other side of it, occupied with God knew what. It was probably the maid that had received them in. She was a pretty little thing, and if Gilbert had gone ahead and taken liberties, then he did not blame the other. He was, after all, going to take a possible few himself…yes, on Frederick. When he had first met the man, he had been cautious at discovering what sort of character the soldier/sovereign held, but now- he was sure that with a few tricks of allure, the Prussian king would fall for him too. Or maybe not, but he would definitely try. He was after all, the country romance, non? Such reputation had to be held up.

"Ah yes, that I am aware of, " oh, not a modest one? All the more appealing, "But unfortunately for my guttural countrymen, my ability to speak German is on par with the level of a peasant's."

France looked up with hooded eyes, fluttering his lashes just a bit before bowing his head down, "Your majesty surely jests." Maybe just a little of a blush here? Yes, that would do.

"Hardly. They do not say much of anything aside from 'sire', 'majesty', and 'by your command' –"

"Oh?" the blond let a seducing grin slip on his face, and a faint pink to dust his cheeks. He leaned forward and grasped one of the king's gloved hands," I then, agree with your people. Why do we not go by your command?"

Frederick, he was glad to see, was not a second behind. Although he did not let any shock show at the implied vulgarity of the metaphor (and he had understood what the immortal man was after), his eyes were another story- slightly dumbstruck before emotion was again replaced with indifference, although therein awakened a glint of something else that that was not there before. Amusement, perhaps. Mirth? Or a challenge to test the extents of France's knowledge pour l'amour?

"Monsieur, " he said, " What an odd request you make."

"But an honest opinion. Am I not a patron of…shall we say, the sentimental and passionate values of this lustful world?"

"...of course. I can safely say that, since you have stated what you had, is overpowering the remnants of my German stoicism," The Prussian stood up, and sharply nodded once, indicating his amused approval and remained immobile, "Perhaps a more reassuring act confirming that statement would be very much appreciated, monsieur. "

Try as he may, he did not successfully hide fully that blush that lightly appeared on his pale complexion. France thought it was slightly cute, really- but most importantly, he had finally managed to summon a reaction out of the military man. The blond slowly rose also, and let a wave of his perfume drift to the other's range. Ah, this was going to be brilliant, especially since the monarch himself had allowed him to pull the coup d'etat on Weillschmidt.

Thoughts of such made the Frenchman smirk in triumph as he reached under Frederick's coat and seized a side of his well formed ass, groping it thoroughly. Magnificent ass, really. Maybe a fair share of horseback riding did do wonders for that area in firmness. He was just about to move to the other when the door slammed open and in stormed a speechless Prussia, who went several shades paler at first before flaring out into a scary fit of ludicrous red.

"What the bloody fuck are you doing, you fucking bastard?" he all but screamed, "Get your fucking hands off his fucking ass!"

"Salut, le Preusse," France said calmly, " I see you decided to hu-"

"Fick dich! Hey!" the albino ripped Frederick away from the blond and shook his shoulders, "Are you okay? Oi- listen! What did he do to you?"

The king sighed, and gave him an uneasy smile, "Gelie- Prussia, everything is fine. The only things ever at stake were our dignities, which we both seem to have lost."

France was about to open his mouth to make a remark on the tempting subject, had not the Germanic nation's fist suddenly slammed into his jaw before dragging his king out of the room. However, when the blond later reflected on how close he had coming to mark the great leader with his own ardent touch, he found the ordeal very, very worth it. Even if his jaw had been dislocated as a result. It was, after all, only a minor injury in the quest of love.

010: Diligence

The sight of the man alone was enough to make Prussia smirk with the backing of all the demons of the circle of wrath. Austria was there, just a few meters from him, always as always with that mask in place- the very one that the albino wanted to shatter and cast into the spirals of obliviation. He was such a contrast to the army behind him. Impassive, haughty, clothed in white with sabre held high above him, sunlight reflecting off cold metal that gave him the look of one that was not quite human, but not quite angelical either.

The thought made him nearly burst out into laughter. They were, after all- immortal. They were not human, because if they were, then they would have for sure already have been damned and cast into the lowest levels of Hell. Austria looked human, but he was not human. Inside, he was just as much of a monster- a demon- as Prussia himself was.

The denial of such would make victory all the more sweeter.

"You traitor of a nation," the brunet's voice was cold with anger, only providing more fuel for the flames of Prussia's glee," I should have known. You couldn't even keep your worthless word for longer then twenty seven years."

"And do you think I care, little master?" red eyes openly taunted narrowed violets as they approached each other, even their horses terrified from the wrath the two immortals were radiating, "You know better then anyone to construct a political gamble, and yet you couldn't see the obvious right in front! Woe be on you, Austria! We don't want a woman on the throne- and this land will never be yours again!"

Their two armies charged against each other, metal clashing on metal, bullets flying through the smoke smothered air. And at the center of it all were the two nations. Prussia, eyes like the ones of a devil, ruthlessly slamming down his blade and repelling his opponent's like how a man would counter a toy. Austria, barely withstanding, powerless against the Prussian assault.

"You've grown so weak, little master..." the albino hissed," So, so weak. Silesia is mine, and only mine!"

011: Swimming

"Prussia, I-"

"No, Fritz."

"But-"

"I said no!" the albino snapped, refusing to move from his ground, a few feet away from the riverbank. He shifted, uncomfortable to the extreme near the rushing water- much to the amusement of his prince who stood behind him with a hint of a small smile flickering across his lips. After all, who knew that Prussia- the egotistic nation who never hesitated to declare his self proclaimed awesomeness was afraid of a petty thing like swimming out of all things? It was humorous to even think about in Frederick's mind.

"It will be fine," he reassured the immortal man, "We are just wading through the water- nothing dangerous."

As if to prove his point, he kicked off his riding boots, rolled up his pants, and steppted into the river. The water was warmed up by the good weather- and Fritz found it quite comforting to have the currents brush by his knees. It was a pleasant day overall, with the sun high up in the cloudless summer sky- a rare occasion where he had sucessfully managed to sneak away from the stuffy palace with his dear nation alongside him, who was now eyeing the river as if it was a vat of poison and nothing else.

"I'll hold your hand," Fritz tried again, "And if you are still uncomfortable, we will leave, I promise. Just please give it a try."

Lids fluttered over red eyes as Prussia closed them and sighed, uncertainty written all over his face. The other was right. It was just water. Just harmless water. he grabbed onto the outstretched hand, his legs literally numb with panic as he stepped from the safe earth, not seeing the grimace of pain that flashed across Frederick's features as his nation's crushing iron grip settled, but didn't complain.

It's just water...just water...Prussia gulped as he felt a powerful current rush by his legs, You can't die anyway. get over it. It's just a fucking river.

He opened his eyes slowly, ignoring every command his brain was sending to his body to flee from the situation. He couldn't feel his limbs- and his posture was so stiff it was like as if he were made of wood and not flesh. A drop of cold sweat trickled down the side of his face. He couldn't remember the last time fear had him held between its clutches so tightly, not even as bullets flew towards him and swords tried to pierce him in the midst of war. It was both stupid and unawesome really, all of this...

The albino repressed a shudder before he forced his vision to focus to realty- and his smiling prince who patted him firmly on his shoulder.

"Now, now. That wasn't so bad, was it? I will though, ask you to loosen your grip. I fear my hand is er...being crushed."