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“What are you talking about?” Amelia tilted her head to the side, “My father wrote to you about me.” Well she guessed that that had made sense, after all he was the one who had orchestrated this whole trip for her and it seemed like this was the place she would be staying. This Prince Sadiq fellow would surely have been told what she looked like, after all he would have to send a handsome to pick her up at the port and bring here to the palace, “Uh, never mind.” she said quickly, “I think I figured that out.’
He laughed again and turned to Katyusha, “Show her to her room, and have her changed into something else.” he paused for a moment, glanced towards Amelia, “Have her prepared for the evening too I suppose… if there is time you can introduce her to the others… that is all.”
The blonde woman nodded and stepped down leading Amelia out of the room and down a hallway. “I’ll show you to your room then. I really do hope that you like it, I was unsure what sort of things that you like, but I picked out the furniture, curtains, and bedding myself, though well I did do it to my own tastes since I was unsure of what you liked. If there is anything that you would like to change do not hesitate to tell me. It’s not only my duty to teach you how things work here but to also make sure you are comfortable.”
“You don’t have to worry about all of that. If it’s even half as nice as the other parts I’ve seen I am sure I’ll like it.”
“I hope you will as well.” Katyusha went across a courtyard with rose bushes and a beautiful fountain filled with large gold fish swimming around. Two young women who appeared to be from a far eastern country sat laughing near the fountain speaking in a language that was not English nor was it the Turkish she had heard people speak in the city or Katyusha speak to the servant. They stopped walk, “Mei, Hoai Mi, this is Amelia.” The two women smiled waved hello, then went back to their conversation as Amelia was shown the rest of the way to her room.
“Why are there so many foreign woman that live here?” Amelia asked as they finished crossing the courtyard.
“Well I am originally from Russia. My father was good friend’s with Sadiq’s father and despite the cultural differences our marriage was arranged. Sometimes I am still shocked that my father agreed that I would marry a man with so many wives… even though I would of course be the first and head one.” she seemed rather proud about that bit.
She was a bit confused, “What do you mean so many wives?” didn’t mean tend to marry only one woman. All the men she knew had only one wife, though she did vaguely remember hearing princes and rich men from far away kingdoms had more then one wife. But that sort of practice was barbaric, and not something that was approved of in Britannia.
Katyusha stopped. She looked at Amelia with a thoroughly confused look on her face, “Amelia surely you know what I am talking about.” she shook her head, “Do you know what you are here?” there was a nod, and Katyusha sighed relief.
“My father sent me here on a trip, though I am unsure why--”
“A trip?” the older woman looked a bit panicked, “Oh no… oh my…” she looked as if she were going to begin to cry.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t believe you don’t know-- though-- Oh Amelia, I thought you would have been fully prepared to be a wife.”
He laughed again and turned to Katyusha, “Show her to her room, and have her changed into something else.” he paused for a moment, glanced towards Amelia, “Have her prepared for the evening too I suppose… if there is time you can introduce her to the others… that is all.”
The blonde woman nodded and stepped down leading Amelia out of the room and down a hallway. “I’ll show you to your room then. I really do hope that you like it, I was unsure what sort of things that you like, but I picked out the furniture, curtains, and bedding myself, though well I did do it to my own tastes since I was unsure of what you liked. If there is anything that you would like to change do not hesitate to tell me. It’s not only my duty to teach you how things work here but to also make sure you are comfortable.”
“You don’t have to worry about all of that. If it’s even half as nice as the other parts I’ve seen I am sure I’ll like it.”
“I hope you will as well.” Katyusha went across a courtyard with rose bushes and a beautiful fountain filled with large gold fish swimming around. Two young women who appeared to be from a far eastern country sat laughing near the fountain speaking in a language that was not English nor was it the Turkish she had heard people speak in the city or Katyusha speak to the servant. They stopped walk, “Mei, Hoai Mi, this is Amelia.” The two women smiled waved hello, then went back to their conversation as Amelia was shown the rest of the way to her room.
“Why are there so many foreign woman that live here?” Amelia asked as they finished crossing the courtyard.
“Well I am originally from Russia. My father was good friend’s with Sadiq’s father and despite the cultural differences our marriage was arranged. Sometimes I am still shocked that my father agreed that I would marry a man with so many wives… even though I would of course be the first and head one.” she seemed rather proud about that bit.
She was a bit confused, “What do you mean so many wives?” didn’t mean tend to marry only one woman. All the men she knew had only one wife, though she did vaguely remember hearing princes and rich men from far away kingdoms had more then one wife. But that sort of practice was barbaric, and not something that was approved of in Britannia.
Katyusha stopped. She looked at Amelia with a thoroughly confused look on her face, “Amelia surely you know what I am talking about.” she shook her head, “Do you know what you are here?” there was a nod, and Katyusha sighed relief.
“My father sent me here on a trip, though I am unsure why--”
“A trip?” the older woman looked a bit panicked, “Oh no… oh my…” she looked as if she were going to begin to cry.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t believe you don’t know-- though-- Oh Amelia, I thought you would have been fully prepared to be a wife.”
“A wife?” she scrunched up her nose, “Why would I be fully prepared to be a wife.”
“You’re marrying Sadiq tonight, as his newest bride. And I well, I thought you would have known this.”
“You must be joking…” Amelia said seated on a cushioned chair in the room that she had been giving. She was certain that it was beautifully decorated, but was currently so confused and filled with a building rage that she was unable to bring herself to look around the room with awe. If what Katyusha had told her was true, then this room was a prison, and nothing in a prison could be beautiful. “And what a cruel joke to play!” she shouted that last bit.
“I would not joke about this. It’s a very serious manner as far as Sadiq taking on a new wife. Surely you understand--”
“Why would my father send me here to join a harem!”
“I do not know all the details, but your father has owed our husband quite a bit of money for a while. It’s not uncommon that daughters are traded to do away with debts… Belle, you’ll meet her soon enough was brought here to pay off what her father borrowed to keep her family from going on when her homeland was stuck with economic problems… though I should not be telling you the business of others.”
“Belle?” Amelia looked at Katyusha with a face that had a mixture of being confused, offended, and emotionally crushed. “How many wives does Sadiq have?”
“Six, including you and myself. You’ve met Mei and Haoi Mi, both were gifts from the Emperor of the East for the completion of an alliance. I’ve mentioned Belle, she is originally from Germania, and Leone was a gift from the King of the South to mark a hundred years of peace between the countries.”
“So I’m lowly number six-- no I am not! Because you are still playing a trick on me! This isn’t funny and my father will not at all be happy to hear about it!” Amelia stood up suddenly causing the chair she had been sitting in to fall over onto the rug.
“You have to believe me--”
“Leave me.” she did not shout but her voice was desperate. Katyusha opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, but she didn’t say a word and instead just left the room silently.
Amelia turned as soon as the door was shut and went through her luggage searching for a pen and paper, she would have to write her father and tell him that these people were horrible and playing terrible joke on her. As she dug through the boxes and trunks scattering clothes all about the room, she felt her eyes being to well up. What if it wasn’t a joke? But it had to be… though what if it wasn’t? She shook her head violently and went back through digging in the boxes of clothes. As she dug she found an envelope with her name written on it in her father’s handwriting. She stopped her searching and picked it up in the trembling hands. Fearing what it would say she tore into the things sending paper to the floor where is settled around her. Before she even looked at the words on the page dread settled in her stomach. She took a deep breath.
“You’re marrying Sadiq tonight, as his newest bride. And I well, I thought you would have known this.”
“You must be joking…” Amelia said seated on a cushioned chair in the room that she had been giving. She was certain that it was beautifully decorated, but was currently so confused and filled with a building rage that she was unable to bring herself to look around the room with awe. If what Katyusha had told her was true, then this room was a prison, and nothing in a prison could be beautiful. “And what a cruel joke to play!” she shouted that last bit.
“I would not joke about this. It’s a very serious manner as far as Sadiq taking on a new wife. Surely you understand--”
“Why would my father send me here to join a harem!”
“I do not know all the details, but your father has owed our husband quite a bit of money for a while. It’s not uncommon that daughters are traded to do away with debts… Belle, you’ll meet her soon enough was brought here to pay off what her father borrowed to keep her family from going on when her homeland was stuck with economic problems… though I should not be telling you the business of others.”
“Belle?” Amelia looked at Katyusha with a face that had a mixture of being confused, offended, and emotionally crushed. “How many wives does Sadiq have?”
“Six, including you and myself. You’ve met Mei and Haoi Mi, both were gifts from the Emperor of the East for the completion of an alliance. I’ve mentioned Belle, she is originally from Germania, and Leone was a gift from the King of the South to mark a hundred years of peace between the countries.”
“So I’m lowly number six-- no I am not! Because you are still playing a trick on me! This isn’t funny and my father will not at all be happy to hear about it!” Amelia stood up suddenly causing the chair she had been sitting in to fall over onto the rug.
“You have to believe me--”
“Leave me.” she did not shout but her voice was desperate. Katyusha opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, but she didn’t say a word and instead just left the room silently.
Amelia turned as soon as the door was shut and went through her luggage searching for a pen and paper, she would have to write her father and tell him that these people were horrible and playing terrible joke on her. As she dug through the boxes and trunks scattering clothes all about the room, she felt her eyes being to well up. What if it wasn’t a joke? But it had to be… though what if it wasn’t? She shook her head violently and went back through digging in the boxes of clothes. As she dug she found an envelope with her name written on it in her father’s handwriting. She stopped her searching and picked it up in the trembling hands. Fearing what it would say she tore into the things sending paper to the floor where is settled around her. Before she even looked at the words on the page dread settled in her stomach. She took a deep breath.
Dear Amelia,
That was normal enough. She may not have had many people that she wrote letters to or received many letters but she knew that that’s how they typically began.
I am certain that you will find this letter after arriving in Turkey at the Palace. I am going to assume that you have heard the news that you are to marry the prince as well. I am your father and there for I feel as if I know you rather well and this is why I have made these assumptions. You are probably questioning how much I love you as your father after I for lack of better words sold you.
In all honesty I feel as though this is something that you have brought on to your self. I am certain that the thought that you would be one of many brides to a Turkish prince you never met was something that had never crossed your mind, the possibility if someone had ever brought it up to you would make you laugh as well. Amelia you must understand that your lack of willingness to conform along with the way that you refused time and time again to not act selfishly and just behave like a decent young woman has placed me in a difficult spot. When your cousins were your age they were all already married, because they were the kind of girls that could behave and proved themselves to be good wives. I am a man with two daughters and neither you nor sweet Madeleine would be married off to respectable husbands if I were to keep you here.
I know that you have heard the rumors about you, and that the things that have been said were less then pleasant. You are thick headed my dear and would never admit to letting such things bother you, but you must understand the things said not only bother myself, but your mother, sister, and a good portion of polite society. You may be wondering why such things matter, but you must understand that in our society a daughter is only as good as the husband she can find. And you could not find a good husband, for all good men’s fathers and mothers would refuse to let that happen. Your sister though she is the kind of girl that can easily be married off. You must be wondering what you have to do with her and her possibilities, so I suppose I will have to tell you that won’t I? Do you know how many people think and thought that I only had one daughter? You see when you behave in the manner you do with the rumors around you that are there you make Madeleine invisible. I will admit that she is a perfectly forgettable kind of young lady. If I were a young man at a party I would not remember having conversation with her or what dances we danced with one another, but she is a respectable, beautiful girl.
Now you are certainly thinking that I do not love you at all as a father loves his daughter. And I will tell you that I have asked myself that question plenty of times. Every time I over heard to ladies at a party speaking of how shameful your behavior was, every time one of your teachers complained about you, and every time I sought you a husband. I hope that you will understand that I gave you years to correct your behavior, yet you never did, therefore I stand by my earlier words that you have brought this on yourself.
You do not have to forgive me. As your father I know that you are not the kind of forgive betrayal easily. I am not going to ask you to forgive me either. what I will ask for is that you try and understand that your removal from London will benefit not only your sister, but the family as a whole. Think of this as a necessary sacrifice to better your family. Think of it as if you are a hero from one of those stories that you used to read.
One last thing Amelia, try to understand that my actions are because I do care for you as a father cares for his daughter.
Love,
Your Father
That was normal enough. She may not have had many people that she wrote letters to or received many letters but she knew that that’s how they typically began.
I am certain that you will find this letter after arriving in Turkey at the Palace. I am going to assume that you have heard the news that you are to marry the prince as well. I am your father and there for I feel as if I know you rather well and this is why I have made these assumptions. You are probably questioning how much I love you as your father after I for lack of better words sold you.
In all honesty I feel as though this is something that you have brought on to your self. I am certain that the thought that you would be one of many brides to a Turkish prince you never met was something that had never crossed your mind, the possibility if someone had ever brought it up to you would make you laugh as well. Amelia you must understand that your lack of willingness to conform along with the way that you refused time and time again to not act selfishly and just behave like a decent young woman has placed me in a difficult spot. When your cousins were your age they were all already married, because they were the kind of girls that could behave and proved themselves to be good wives. I am a man with two daughters and neither you nor sweet Madeleine would be married off to respectable husbands if I were to keep you here.
I know that you have heard the rumors about you, and that the things that have been said were less then pleasant. You are thick headed my dear and would never admit to letting such things bother you, but you must understand the things said not only bother myself, but your mother, sister, and a good portion of polite society. You may be wondering why such things matter, but you must understand that in our society a daughter is only as good as the husband she can find. And you could not find a good husband, for all good men’s fathers and mothers would refuse to let that happen. Your sister though she is the kind of girl that can easily be married off. You must be wondering what you have to do with her and her possibilities, so I suppose I will have to tell you that won’t I? Do you know how many people think and thought that I only had one daughter? You see when you behave in the manner you do with the rumors around you that are there you make Madeleine invisible. I will admit that she is a perfectly forgettable kind of young lady. If I were a young man at a party I would not remember having conversation with her or what dances we danced with one another, but she is a respectable, beautiful girl.
Now you are certainly thinking that I do not love you at all as a father loves his daughter. And I will tell you that I have asked myself that question plenty of times. Every time I over heard to ladies at a party speaking of how shameful your behavior was, every time one of your teachers complained about you, and every time I sought you a husband. I hope that you will understand that I gave you years to correct your behavior, yet you never did, therefore I stand by my earlier words that you have brought this on yourself.
You do not have to forgive me. As your father I know that you are not the kind of forgive betrayal easily. I am not going to ask you to forgive me either. what I will ask for is that you try and understand that your removal from London will benefit not only your sister, but the family as a whole. Think of this as a necessary sacrifice to better your family. Think of it as if you are a hero from one of those stories that you used to read.
One last thing Amelia, try to understand that my actions are because I do care for you as a father cares for his daughter.
Love,
Your Father
If Russia had hoped that he problem was going to magically vanish, those hopes would have been dashed the on the following morning, a Tuesday, when he woke up drenched again. He was wet again on Wednesday, dry on Thursday, dry again on Friday, wet on Saturday (though he blamed that on foolishly drinking vodka before bed when he was still getting over the most recent episode of his condition,) dry on Sunday and dry again on Monday. He tried to convince himself that he was getting better. Saturday had been a fluke, and if he ignored that, he hadn't had any...incidents for several days. Maybe he had just strained his bladder somehow earlier that week, maybe that was the only reason for what had been happening. And surely he was on his way to recovery now, yes? Nothing would happen at America's house. He told himself that again and again as he packed his bags and hunted for his passport. Nothing would happen. It couldn't happen. Surely even Russia wasn't that unlucky.
The flight over was quiet and uneventful, but the worry in his belly started churning again when he spotting America at the airport, bouncing on his toes as he waited impatiently. He almost, almost wanted to avoid the younger man, or fish out a new excuse for staying at a hotel for the week-long conference, because what if, what if...
But there was no time for that, because America had spied Russia and bounded out with the enthusiasm of a puppy. Hugs and greetings were exchanged, even though it had only been a week since they had last seen each other, and Russia had no time for any excuses before America had grabbed Russia's luggage, seized Russia's hand and drug both out of the airport to his car.
“Is it crazy to say that I missed you after only a week?” he laughed, shoving the bag into the trunk. “Because I totally did. Couldn't get you out of my mind for days. Not that I don't think about you normally, but lately, man! Sucks that we don't live closer to each other.”
“2.4 miles,” Russia muttered to himself.
“2.4 miles to what?” America cocked his head like a bird.
“Between you and I. There are only 2.4 miles between the Diomede Islands, the islands in Bering Strait that separate our countries. We are never very far away.”
America's smile was warmer than the sun. “That's a nice way of thinking about it. But we still can't visit as much as I want. Oh well. You're here now, that's what matters.”
Normally America's presence could easily put Russia at ease, but not today. The anxiety over what was coming lingered. Maybe he should just try to stay awake all night. But what if America noticed? No, he should act natural and just avoid drinking anything. But would that be enough?
They had already gotten back to America's house and unloaded Russia's bag before America seemed to notice that something was off.
“Are you feeling alright?” he asked with a frown. “You look all out of whack again. Just like last week, actually. Is something going on?”
“I'm just tired,” Russia lied, but immediately realized his mistake.
“We should go to bed early tonight!” America suggested. “Nothing like a full night of sleep to fix whatever's wrong. Oh, and I know I said earlier that we could sleep in separate beds, but...well, Tony was doing some crazy alien experiments in my room the other day, and he somehow managed to spill acid on my bed. Crazy strong stuff, ate half of it away in no time flat. Anyway, he said he'd get me a new bed, but the one he ordered isn't gonna get here until tomorrow. So the only bed I've got right now is the guest bed. And there's no way I'm letting my guest sleep on the floor or the couch, but...um...”
“W-we can sleep together, if that is what you want,” Russia allowed, trying to keep his voice unconcerned. This earned him a kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks, babe! You're great. Hey, did you eat dinner yet?”
“Da, they served one on the plane.”
“Yeah, I got Burger King on the way over. So how about we turn in now? That should help you get feeling better.”
“D-da,” Russia agreed weakly.
The flight over was quiet and uneventful, but the worry in his belly started churning again when he spotting America at the airport, bouncing on his toes as he waited impatiently. He almost, almost wanted to avoid the younger man, or fish out a new excuse for staying at a hotel for the week-long conference, because what if, what if...
But there was no time for that, because America had spied Russia and bounded out with the enthusiasm of a puppy. Hugs and greetings were exchanged, even though it had only been a week since they had last seen each other, and Russia had no time for any excuses before America had grabbed Russia's luggage, seized Russia's hand and drug both out of the airport to his car.
“Is it crazy to say that I missed you after only a week?” he laughed, shoving the bag into the trunk. “Because I totally did. Couldn't get you out of my mind for days. Not that I don't think about you normally, but lately, man! Sucks that we don't live closer to each other.”
“2.4 miles,” Russia muttered to himself.
“2.4 miles to what?” America cocked his head like a bird.
“Between you and I. There are only 2.4 miles between the Diomede Islands, the islands in Bering Strait that separate our countries. We are never very far away.”
America's smile was warmer than the sun. “That's a nice way of thinking about it. But we still can't visit as much as I want. Oh well. You're here now, that's what matters.”
Normally America's presence could easily put Russia at ease, but not today. The anxiety over what was coming lingered. Maybe he should just try to stay awake all night. But what if America noticed? No, he should act natural and just avoid drinking anything. But would that be enough?
They had already gotten back to America's house and unloaded Russia's bag before America seemed to notice that something was off.
“Are you feeling alright?” he asked with a frown. “You look all out of whack again. Just like last week, actually. Is something going on?”
“I'm just tired,” Russia lied, but immediately realized his mistake.
“We should go to bed early tonight!” America suggested. “Nothing like a full night of sleep to fix whatever's wrong. Oh, and I know I said earlier that we could sleep in separate beds, but...well, Tony was doing some crazy alien experiments in my room the other day, and he somehow managed to spill acid on my bed. Crazy strong stuff, ate half of it away in no time flat. Anyway, he said he'd get me a new bed, but the one he ordered isn't gonna get here until tomorrow. So the only bed I've got right now is the guest bed. And there's no way I'm letting my guest sleep on the floor or the couch, but...um...”
“W-we can sleep together, if that is what you want,” Russia allowed, trying to keep his voice unconcerned. This earned him a kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks, babe! You're great. Hey, did you eat dinner yet?”
“Da, they served one on the plane.”
“Yeah, I got Burger King on the way over. So how about we turn in now? That should help you get feeling better.”
“D-da,” Russia agreed weakly.
It was a struggle to keep his mind calm as he changed into pajamas and went through his nighttime routine. Brush his teeth, wash his face, go to the bathroom...the last step took longer than usual, as he struggled to squeeze every drop of liquid out of his body. Certain that he was empty, he reluctantly joined America in the guest bed, keeping as far away as the bed would allow him.
“Thanks for coming over,” America said, as he switched off the light. “I dunno why this is a big deal to you, but I'm glad you came anyway.”
Russia couldn't think of anything to say, so he kept quiet and rolled over.
America sighed. “Good night, babe.”
The forest seemed to stretch on forever. Russia couldn't remember how long he had been walking, but the trees just continued on and on. What was he there for, anyway? He was looking for something...something important. But when he tried to think, he couldn't remember what it was. He would know when he found it, he was sure...
Through the trees, he could see a creek nearby, bubbling and splashing noisily. Russia stopped, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His bladder was full. Uncomfortably so. Why hadn't he noticed earlier? He bit his lip and squeezed a hand between his legs. The need had become urgent at once. He had to go, NOW.
There was no one around to see. Using a tree wouldn't be a problem, not this deep in the forest and all by himself. Flinching at a rush of desperation, Russia hastily undid his zipper, pulled himself out and aimed at a tree. The stream started at once, and he soon felt relief. He sighed contently at the slowly easing pressure...but something wasn't right. His thighs and crotch felt warm and wet...it was almost as if...
As if...
Oh no.
Russia sat bolt upright in bed. For a few seconds was he too disoriented to understand what was happening. Then it all caught up with him in one heart beat. His pajamas were wet. The sheets under him were wet. And he was still pissing uncontrollably, the wet spot below him growing rapidly as his bladder continued to empty. His hands darted down to his cock, trying to squeeze off the flow, but it did no good. He had never been able to stop once he started to piss.
In a blind panic he lurched out of the bed, staggering for the bathroom. His cock was still traitorously gushing by the time he got there, and his hands shook too badly to undo the buttons on the front of his pajamas. He whimpered as he felt a puddle starting to grow under his feet on the bathroom floor, and finally he just clambered into the bathtub, allowing his bladder to finish emptying into his clothes. Finally, finally he was able to stop, and the horror of what had happened crashed into Russia's brain.
He had to hide this. He had to stop America from finding out. How? Maybe if he got a blow drier, he could dry his side of the bed before America woke up...no, too much noise. Oh no, he needed to clean the puddle on the bathroom floor too, and he had probably dribbled all the way across the floor. That would need to be mopped up too. And his pajamas, could he just hide them and change into day clothes? He needed time, and he needed America to stay asleep. Maybe if he got his pipe and knocked America unconscious...no, that was wrong. But what could he do?! America was going to find out, he was going to see what Russia did, he was going to be disgusted, he was going to laugh...
Trying to swallow down a wave on panicked nausea, Russia got to work wiping up the floor, using almost half a roll of toilet paper in the process. He was in no frame of mind to be efficient in his work. That finished, he reluctantly crept back out of the bathroom, tiptoeing over to the bed. The wet spot was large and obvious...how to hide that? Could he lie and say that he spilled a drink? No, the smell would give him away. Maybe he could....could....
Russia looked past the wet spot and saw something that made his heart stop. America was awake. His eyes were open, wide in surprise, and staring straight at Russia. Russia who was still in wet pajamas and standing over a suspiciously soaked bed. There was no way America didn't know what had happened.
Russia's legs reacted before his mind could catch up; he ran back to the bathroom, slammed the door behind him and locked it.
“Thanks for coming over,” America said, as he switched off the light. “I dunno why this is a big deal to you, but I'm glad you came anyway.”
Russia couldn't think of anything to say, so he kept quiet and rolled over.
America sighed. “Good night, babe.”
The forest seemed to stretch on forever. Russia couldn't remember how long he had been walking, but the trees just continued on and on. What was he there for, anyway? He was looking for something...something important. But when he tried to think, he couldn't remember what it was. He would know when he found it, he was sure...
Through the trees, he could see a creek nearby, bubbling and splashing noisily. Russia stopped, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His bladder was full. Uncomfortably so. Why hadn't he noticed earlier? He bit his lip and squeezed a hand between his legs. The need had become urgent at once. He had to go, NOW.
There was no one around to see. Using a tree wouldn't be a problem, not this deep in the forest and all by himself. Flinching at a rush of desperation, Russia hastily undid his zipper, pulled himself out and aimed at a tree. The stream started at once, and he soon felt relief. He sighed contently at the slowly easing pressure...but something wasn't right. His thighs and crotch felt warm and wet...it was almost as if...
As if...
Oh no.
Russia sat bolt upright in bed. For a few seconds was he too disoriented to understand what was happening. Then it all caught up with him in one heart beat. His pajamas were wet. The sheets under him were wet. And he was still pissing uncontrollably, the wet spot below him growing rapidly as his bladder continued to empty. His hands darted down to his cock, trying to squeeze off the flow, but it did no good. He had never been able to stop once he started to piss.
In a blind panic he lurched out of the bed, staggering for the bathroom. His cock was still traitorously gushing by the time he got there, and his hands shook too badly to undo the buttons on the front of his pajamas. He whimpered as he felt a puddle starting to grow under his feet on the bathroom floor, and finally he just clambered into the bathtub, allowing his bladder to finish emptying into his clothes. Finally, finally he was able to stop, and the horror of what had happened crashed into Russia's brain.
He had to hide this. He had to stop America from finding out. How? Maybe if he got a blow drier, he could dry his side of the bed before America woke up...no, too much noise. Oh no, he needed to clean the puddle on the bathroom floor too, and he had probably dribbled all the way across the floor. That would need to be mopped up too. And his pajamas, could he just hide them and change into day clothes? He needed time, and he needed America to stay asleep. Maybe if he got his pipe and knocked America unconscious...no, that was wrong. But what could he do?! America was going to find out, he was going to see what Russia did, he was going to be disgusted, he was going to laugh...
Trying to swallow down a wave on panicked nausea, Russia got to work wiping up the floor, using almost half a roll of toilet paper in the process. He was in no frame of mind to be efficient in his work. That finished, he reluctantly crept back out of the bathroom, tiptoeing over to the bed. The wet spot was large and obvious...how to hide that? Could he lie and say that he spilled a drink? No, the smell would give him away. Maybe he could....could....
Russia looked past the wet spot and saw something that made his heart stop. America was awake. His eyes were open, wide in surprise, and staring straight at Russia. Russia who was still in wet pajamas and standing over a suspiciously soaked bed. There was no way America didn't know what had happened.
Russia's legs reacted before his mind could catch up; he ran back to the bathroom, slammed the door behind him and locked it.
Amelia finished the letter and could not hold back her tears. Never had she thought that she was the kind of person who would bring such hardships on to her family or that her ways were that wrong. There were other girls that did what she had done her whole life, though thinking about it she had never met girls like that even once… but that her father would trade her away to erase a debt, it was if she were no better then gold, like she was not a person, and thinking that way made her heart hurt. It made her feel heavy, it made her feel useless. Most of all it made her feel like it was her now duty to prove him wrong, yet she didn’t have the strength to do so.
In the end she had always just been a trouble making daughter that needed to be put out of the way.
AN okay so... here we are with an update that well idk what it did but there you go. Now then Katyusha=Ukraine Mei=Taiwan Hoai Mi=Vietnam Belle=Belgium and Leone=Seychelles.
In the end she had always just been a trouble making daughter that needed to be put out of the way.
AN okay so... here we are with an update that well idk what it did but there you go. Now then Katyusha=Ukraine Mei=Taiwan Hoai Mi=Vietnam Belle=Belgium and Leone=Seychelles.
I find the description of Russia at the end far, far sexier than I should.
Yay for frequent updates!
Yay for frequent updates!
...You know, anon. That dream... is SO like those dreams you get when your younger! (Or when your older too haha). You think its okay, and then you wake up and its just...aww shit. Lol.
This is so good, author-anon! I can definitely feel for Russia here. I'd be so scared and worried and disgusted about what my boyfriend thought too. but America is a cool, guy, so it'll be okay!
...Right? -worried look-
This is so good, author-anon! I can definitely feel for Russia here. I'd be so scared and worried and disgusted about what my boyfriend thought too. but America is a cool, guy, so it'll be okay!
...Right? -worried look-
"Maybe if he got his pipe and knocked America unconscious...no, that was wrong."<--- Is it wrong if I found this so funny? XD
Oh Russia, please don't feel so bad. :[
Can't wait for the next update to see Alfred's reaction and how he'll comfort him.
Oh Russia, please don't feel so bad. :[
Can't wait for the next update to see Alfred's reaction and how he'll comfort him.
AWWWWW
AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
RUSSIAAAA gyaahh so cute TT.TT I just wanna hug him and squeeze him and make it all better. Um, after he's not covered in pee. XDDD
So America better damn well do that alright?! I mean, if you want to put it off to milk all the angst out you can (it's alright, I understand, I write too XDD) there must be oodles of adorable hurt/comfort at the end.
And also America better not try to force him to do it again on the sly. (That recent wonderful Spamano fill on the subject... hiding it does not end well DD:) I want to see me some tender, sweet American lovings. Please please please more~
AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
RUSSIAAAA gyaahh so cute TT.TT I just wanna hug him and squeeze him and make it all better. Um, after he's not covered in pee. XDDD
So America better damn well do that alright?! I mean, if you want to put it off to milk all the angst out you can (it's alright, I understand, I write too XDD) there must be oodles of adorable hurt/comfort at the end.
And also America better not try to force him to do it again on the sly. (That recent wonderful Spamano fill on the subject... hiding it does not end well DD:) I want to see me some tender, sweet American lovings. Please please please more~
ANON, YOU SEXY THING YOU. HOW DID YOU FIND ALL OF MY KINKS AND MANAGE TO SQUISH THEM INTO ONE GLORIOUS FIC.
FOR THE LOVE OF LIFE, I NEED MOARRRRR
FOR THE LOVE OF LIFE, I NEED MOARRRRR
LOL! Okay, okay, I know I don't know all of them, but was that a Dragonriders of Pern reference?? And Doctor Who, of course. And Hitchhikers Guide! XDDDD I'm afraid mutant humans and near rape are the two I am totally unknowing to.
Awesome, anon! Just awesome!
Awesome, anon! Just awesome!
Tears, actual tears came to my eyes when I read the letter part and Amelia's reaction. I know the focus will be on Turkey/America and I am looking forward to it but now I think my primary reason to read this is to see if Arthur gets properly karma'd for this. Ouch. OUCH.
Re: Prussia/Germany/Austria et al Who's Afraid of Roderich Edelstein? [Rewrite] prologue/sidestory A
(Anonymous) 2010-10-08 05:56 am (UTC)(link)In going over some things I thought I’d add a bit about the distant past to Prussia’s allusions in the first part for de-anoning in the future. And then it turned into an actual prologue type thing. *sighs* So here goes, it can be read first or where it appears on this page thought first would probably be best *smacks self* Thanks to everyone who’s reading and commenting, I’m glad you’re enjoying the story!
Acre, Kingdom of Jerusalem
City Outskirts
March, 1191
They’d heard that Leopold was coming to relieve their soldiers until France and England arrived. Gilbert Beilschmidt had heard from one of the old knights laying on the straw cot that God was sending them to aid in their holy crusade. Gilbert merely continues to lay on the leeches so they can purge the bad blood. Rosary in hand, he says a prayer as the old man continues to talk about their current position. It’s worse than they had thought.
“Leopold?” he scoffs when he finishes. He moves to the bedside of a man with a large gash in his side: maggots this time to eat the dead flesh. “What kind of name is that for a king? What banner does he serve beside the Lord’s? Is he strong like Richard or clever like Phillip?”
“Insolent, whelp,” comes the grumble. He pauses in his ministrations to swat his other patient’s hands away annoyed. His bedside manner isn’t lauded but they know him to be a serious worker. He’d been sent along with the merchants from Lübeck who felt compelled to set up a field hospital here. Gilbert has been chafing ever since he got here, wanting to fight. He isn’t a damn priest; Ludwig had sent him here as part of the crusade so he’d “stop terrorizing the whole court with that damn sword”. He looks down at his child’s hands with a sigh as he rinses them in a bucket of tepid water.
He’d been hoping by now that he’d have changed like some of the others. His brother had been the first, the eldest of them reborn from his deathbed as Bavaria had come to be a margrave. For whatever purpose that God had called them all, the brothers had remained eternal, one by one reborn into majesty. Even Ludwig, the baby, had risen in the year of the lord 962 when Otto was crowned king of what Barbarossa had started calling the Holy Roman Empire.
“Your time will come, brother,” they’d all assured him as the latest had taken up the banner of Mecklenburg last year. The short sword that he set down by the open tent flap calls to him and he takes it up with a cocky grin.
“Your stance has improved,” the old man says as he looks over. “And Leopold leads the great Kingdom of Austria so you’d better hold your tongue.” Austria. Oh he definitely knows that name. Ever since Barbarosa had raised that stupid margrave to a dutchy independent of Bavaria to settle that argument- his eldest brother still complained about that- Ludwig never seemed to stop talking about the new guy. He’d spent three years mediating the dispute and all Gilbert could listen to when he returned was “Roderich this” and “Roderich that”. Ludwig said he was related to them on their father’s side and oh how cultured he was and how well he rode, how impressive his stupid falcons were, how he played the harp with a god given grace and dammit if Gilbert had to hear one more thing about that loser he was going to go crazy.
“Pfah! I bet I could lick some loser named Leopold in a fight.” He jabs at an invisible foe. “If they’d let me out there I’d take on a hundred infidels! A thousand!” He ignores the indulgent chuckle as he turns and slashes. The old knight’s one of the few who’s seen him throughout the years never aging. “If they’d let me at Saladin I’d cut him like this!” He turns again and let out a rather manly cry of surprise- Gilbert never screams like a girl- when his strike is caught by the friar’s ladle and the thin soup spills out onto the ground.
Acre, Kingdom of Jerusalem
City Outskirts
March, 1191
They’d heard that Leopold was coming to relieve their soldiers until France and England arrived. Gilbert Beilschmidt had heard from one of the old knights laying on the straw cot that God was sending them to aid in their holy crusade. Gilbert merely continues to lay on the leeches so they can purge the bad blood. Rosary in hand, he says a prayer as the old man continues to talk about their current position. It’s worse than they had thought.
“Leopold?” he scoffs when he finishes. He moves to the bedside of a man with a large gash in his side: maggots this time to eat the dead flesh. “What kind of name is that for a king? What banner does he serve beside the Lord’s? Is he strong like Richard or clever like Phillip?”
“Insolent, whelp,” comes the grumble. He pauses in his ministrations to swat his other patient’s hands away annoyed. His bedside manner isn’t lauded but they know him to be a serious worker. He’d been sent along with the merchants from Lübeck who felt compelled to set up a field hospital here. Gilbert has been chafing ever since he got here, wanting to fight. He isn’t a damn priest; Ludwig had sent him here as part of the crusade so he’d “stop terrorizing the whole court with that damn sword”. He looks down at his child’s hands with a sigh as he rinses them in a bucket of tepid water.
He’d been hoping by now that he’d have changed like some of the others. His brother had been the first, the eldest of them reborn from his deathbed as Bavaria had come to be a margrave. For whatever purpose that God had called them all, the brothers had remained eternal, one by one reborn into majesty. Even Ludwig, the baby, had risen in the year of the lord 962 when Otto was crowned king of what Barbarossa had started calling the Holy Roman Empire.
“Your time will come, brother,” they’d all assured him as the latest had taken up the banner of Mecklenburg last year. The short sword that he set down by the open tent flap calls to him and he takes it up with a cocky grin.
“Your stance has improved,” the old man says as he looks over. “And Leopold leads the great Kingdom of Austria so you’d better hold your tongue.” Austria. Oh he definitely knows that name. Ever since Barbarosa had raised that stupid margrave to a dutchy independent of Bavaria to settle that argument- his eldest brother still complained about that- Ludwig never seemed to stop talking about the new guy. He’d spent three years mediating the dispute and all Gilbert could listen to when he returned was “Roderich this” and “Roderich that”. Ludwig said he was related to them on their father’s side and oh how cultured he was and how well he rode, how impressive his stupid falcons were, how he played the harp with a god given grace and dammit if Gilbert had to hear one more thing about that loser he was going to go crazy.
“Pfah! I bet I could lick some loser named Leopold in a fight.” He jabs at an invisible foe. “If they’d let me out there I’d take on a hundred infidels! A thousand!” He ignores the indulgent chuckle as he turns and slashes. The old knight’s one of the few who’s seen him throughout the years never aging. “If they’d let me at Saladin I’d cut him like this!” He turns again and let out a rather manly cry of surprise- Gilbert never screams like a girl- when his strike is caught by the friar’s ladle and the thin soup spills out onto the ground.
authonon knows EXACTLY HOW YOU FEEL, I'M DYING OF CRAMPS AND A MIGRAINE ATM D:<
(Anonymous) 2010-10-08 05:56 am (UTC)(link)asdfghjklILY
Thank you! I'm glad someone else was able to work out the agony (man, I snap and then spin around and giggle sluttily when I'm on my period o.e) and writing this lessened the weirdness. But it was so cute, I got all hyper in telling the kink to me friend @ school and she was all, "Yo, Megs, calm the fuck down." (So of course I said, "I got this!" C:)
FrUK = LOVEEEEEEE
France + England = CUUUUUUUUUUUTE
Thank you! Ain't Hooker's green just the puuuuurtiest damn color you've ever seen? /shot
Thank you! I'm glad someone else was able to work out the agony (man, I snap and then spin around and giggle sluttily when I'm on my period o.e) and writing this lessened the weirdness. But it was so cute, I got all hyper in telling the kink to me friend @ school and she was all, "Yo, Megs, calm the fuck down." (So of course I said, "I got this!" C:)
FrUK = LOVEEEEEEE
France + England = CUUUUUUUUUUUTE
Thank you! Ain't Hooker's green just the puuuuurtiest damn color you've ever seen? /shot
Re: Prussia/Germany/Austria et al Who's Afraid of Roderich Edelstein? [Rewrite] prologue/sidestory B
(Anonymous) 2010-10-08 05:58 am (UTC)(link)A cry goes up from those who’d seen and flushing, Gilbert beats a steady retreat out the tent before Friar Peter can take the ladle to his backside. They’ll take it out of his rations but right now, his rounds finished, he runs through the sand twirling the short blade as if he were the greatest hero ever crowned. In the tunic and breeches, his brown hair and tanned skin blend in almost seamlessly with the desert around him. The sun is warm even as the chill air hits him and he follows the breeze closer to the coast careful to remain behind their lines. If the reports are correct then- He grins wide as he imagines the ships pulling onto the surf in the distance.
He sits and waits from the dunes and low lying brush, imagining the others in the encampment falling all over themselves to welcome even the lowliest of lackeys as they disembark. Gilbert stretches knowing it could be hours before Leopold himself makes an appearance but he’s excited nonetheless. He wonders if the man would turn down a challenge if he threw the gauntlet down. Gilbert sighs, sitting back and watching the sky. He can picture Ludwig’s face if he actually does it. He smiles thinking of how cute his little brother is when he’s embarrassed. His misses his red face and he misses crawling into bed with him when it’s cold and listening to him stammer and go on about propriety. He always lets him in and he always holds him back when the darkness cast shadows on the walls...
Gilbert feels the coolness of a shadow over him now suddenly and is on his feet in an instant when he sees the silhouette on the sand. That heathen with the turban- kefi-something he thought someone had called it once- sometimes creeps around their encampment at night and he’s taken to sleeping with one eye open because of it. He pirouettes quickly, whirling behind the intruder, sword at her throat- Her? Eyes wide, he almost drops it stepping back, face scarlet. The thought of being so familiar with a woman both excites and terrifies him. He swallows, blatantly staring as he looks at her.
She hardly looks any older than him as she stands there nervously staring at the weapon. The first thing he notices is her eyes. They’re the most brilliant violet that he’s ever seen and he swears that he can see the same mountains of Carinthia that spans their lands when he looks into them. The dress she wears is thoroughly impractical for the area, long skirts and sleeves blowing with the desert wind. She tucks an errant strand of long, brown hair behind her ear as she makes a study of him as well. He straightens up automatically making sure that she’s suitably impressed.
He can’t believe that her hair is uncovered, the thick wavy auburn ringlets frame her face, the rest of it pulled back and pinned up. He’s never seen the likes before, even the noble women of the court don’t go about exposing themselves in such a provocative manner- perhaps in France. Her skin is pale like his, but polished and creamy like a porcelain doll’s and he forces his traitorous gaze back to her face not even daring to imagine the under bodice that lies beneath the blue surcoat and shapeless kirtle. He quashes that sinful though immediately, angry with himself and angry with her for causing it.
“Are you crazy?” he yells as he lowers the sword. “What are you doing wandering around out here? Don’t you know it’s dangerous, you idiot?!” She glares at him, those eyes glittering like amethyst, and just as hard and her small mouth, small beauty mark dotting the corner turns downward.
“I’m sorry I find it hard to understand the barking of dog.” Her voice isn’t as high pitched as he would’ve thought but it’s just as snooty. She draws herself up still standing no taller than him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m supposed to be with his highness.” She storms past him headed further into the desert.
“Hey! That’s the wrong way, stupid!” he calls running after her. She seems disinclined to stop and he reluctantly grabs her hand. Her palm is warm and soft and as soon as she stops he let go. She looks away with a harsh breath crossing her arms.
“Well… anywhere away from a rude little child such as yourself is better than here.”
He sits and waits from the dunes and low lying brush, imagining the others in the encampment falling all over themselves to welcome even the lowliest of lackeys as they disembark. Gilbert stretches knowing it could be hours before Leopold himself makes an appearance but he’s excited nonetheless. He wonders if the man would turn down a challenge if he threw the gauntlet down. Gilbert sighs, sitting back and watching the sky. He can picture Ludwig’s face if he actually does it. He smiles thinking of how cute his little brother is when he’s embarrassed. His misses his red face and he misses crawling into bed with him when it’s cold and listening to him stammer and go on about propriety. He always lets him in and he always holds him back when the darkness cast shadows on the walls...
Gilbert feels the coolness of a shadow over him now suddenly and is on his feet in an instant when he sees the silhouette on the sand. That heathen with the turban- kefi-something he thought someone had called it once- sometimes creeps around their encampment at night and he’s taken to sleeping with one eye open because of it. He pirouettes quickly, whirling behind the intruder, sword at her throat- Her? Eyes wide, he almost drops it stepping back, face scarlet. The thought of being so familiar with a woman both excites and terrifies him. He swallows, blatantly staring as he looks at her.
She hardly looks any older than him as she stands there nervously staring at the weapon. The first thing he notices is her eyes. They’re the most brilliant violet that he’s ever seen and he swears that he can see the same mountains of Carinthia that spans their lands when he looks into them. The dress she wears is thoroughly impractical for the area, long skirts and sleeves blowing with the desert wind. She tucks an errant strand of long, brown hair behind her ear as she makes a study of him as well. He straightens up automatically making sure that she’s suitably impressed.
He can’t believe that her hair is uncovered, the thick wavy auburn ringlets frame her face, the rest of it pulled back and pinned up. He’s never seen the likes before, even the noble women of the court don’t go about exposing themselves in such a provocative manner- perhaps in France. Her skin is pale like his, but polished and creamy like a porcelain doll’s and he forces his traitorous gaze back to her face not even daring to imagine the under bodice that lies beneath the blue surcoat and shapeless kirtle. He quashes that sinful though immediately, angry with himself and angry with her for causing it.
“Are you crazy?” he yells as he lowers the sword. “What are you doing wandering around out here? Don’t you know it’s dangerous, you idiot?!” She glares at him, those eyes glittering like amethyst, and just as hard and her small mouth, small beauty mark dotting the corner turns downward.
“I’m sorry I find it hard to understand the barking of dog.” Her voice isn’t as high pitched as he would’ve thought but it’s just as snooty. She draws herself up still standing no taller than him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m supposed to be with his highness.” She storms past him headed further into the desert.
“Hey! That’s the wrong way, stupid!” he calls running after her. She seems disinclined to stop and he reluctantly grabs her hand. Her palm is warm and soft and as soon as she stops he let go. She looks away with a harsh breath crossing her arms.
“Well… anywhere away from a rude little child such as yourself is better than here.”
Re: Prussia/Germany/Austria et al Who's Afraid of Roderich Edelstein? [Rewrite] prologue/sidestory C
(Anonymous) 2010-10-08 06:00 am (UTC)(link)He glares annoyed that a woman would dare talk to him like that. Silly noblewoman- what’s she even doing here?
“Fine, get yourself lost then. See if I care!” He huffs and starts to walk away slowing down after a few steps. Even if she is a complete harpy, he can’t just leave a woman alone in the desert especially during a time of war. What sort of knight would he be then? Gilbert swears to himself that when he’s a powerful empire he’ll never humble himself like this again. She seems bound and determined to go the wrong way and he sighs and catches up to her. “Alright, alright look.” He looks almost pained as he forces out the rest in a halfway civil tone. “I’ll take you back to the encampment, m-milady.”
She looks at him as if she hadn’t expected any differently.
“Thank you, good sir,” she answers demurely still managing that condescension at the same time. She offers him a hand, lifting the heavy skirts with the other to walk easier through the sand. The pointed shoes are likewise a thoroughly ridiculous indulgence. “If you will be so kind…” He takes her hand and looks away quickly before catching sight of her ankles and sinning even further.
“Ttch. You really oughta be more careful.” He pulls her along and doesn’t reply when he hears her hiss “slow down, you savage.” Even so, he lessens his strides.
“It’s dangerous here, y’know? This ain’t a little royal ball.”Again, he wonders what she’s doing here. None of the other soldiers had brought their wives or their daughters she’s no merchant’s family either.
“It’s nothing I wasn’t born to handle,” she says cryptically and before he can ask her what on earth a girl who can’t be any older than ten would mean by that, she trips.
They both end up rolling down the dune landing in a heap and Gilbert just barely bites his tongue to hold back the string of curses as they land in a tangle at the bottom. Stupid clumsy girl! He spits sand out of his mouth and stands back up. He’s sore as he turns around and is about to yell when he sees her pushing herself to her knees looking down. She stops, her fists balled up in her skirts and her face is pink. She trembles and he prays she doesn’t start crying because he never knows what to do in a situation like that. He crouches down in front of her.
“H-hey look- calm down, okay? It happens to everyone. Okay not me ‘cause I’m way too awesome and coordinated but...” he trails off as she slowly she gets to her feet brushing at her skirt. She’s silent and isn’t looking at him.
“I do that a lot,” she says quietly. He snorts.
“So what? You’re a girl, who cares?” She smiles at that but it looks sad.
“Of course. Yes. I am a female.” The words sound rehearsed like a litany or a prayer but he doesn’t pay much attention. “It’s okay for me to need help when I’m like this...” her voice falls to a whisper as she trails off.
“Besides, that’s what guys like me are here for: to pick up women when they fall down and to fight for God!” She sighs and looks towards the harbor in the distance wistfully.
“I wish I could fight.”
“Pah! You?” he looks her up and down again, this time with a warrior’s eye. “If you could even hold a sword I’d be surprised.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave that to warriors like me, right?”
“But I can be strong without raising a sword,” she seems to say mostly to herself as she starts walking. There’s something about the melancholy surrounding her that pulls at him and he guides her as they walk back towards the encampment.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he answers decisively. “The strong are the conquerers. The warriors with God on our side.” He slashes dramatically at the air. “What’s stronger than that?”
“Christ, our savior was the strongest and bravest crusader ever to live without so much as raising a sword,” she retorts as if it’s an argument she’s made a thousand times before.
“Fine, get yourself lost then. See if I care!” He huffs and starts to walk away slowing down after a few steps. Even if she is a complete harpy, he can’t just leave a woman alone in the desert especially during a time of war. What sort of knight would he be then? Gilbert swears to himself that when he’s a powerful empire he’ll never humble himself like this again. She seems bound and determined to go the wrong way and he sighs and catches up to her. “Alright, alright look.” He looks almost pained as he forces out the rest in a halfway civil tone. “I’ll take you back to the encampment, m-milady.”
She looks at him as if she hadn’t expected any differently.
“Thank you, good sir,” she answers demurely still managing that condescension at the same time. She offers him a hand, lifting the heavy skirts with the other to walk easier through the sand. The pointed shoes are likewise a thoroughly ridiculous indulgence. “If you will be so kind…” He takes her hand and looks away quickly before catching sight of her ankles and sinning even further.
“Ttch. You really oughta be more careful.” He pulls her along and doesn’t reply when he hears her hiss “slow down, you savage.” Even so, he lessens his strides.
“It’s dangerous here, y’know? This ain’t a little royal ball.”Again, he wonders what she’s doing here. None of the other soldiers had brought their wives or their daughters she’s no merchant’s family either.
“It’s nothing I wasn’t born to handle,” she says cryptically and before he can ask her what on earth a girl who can’t be any older than ten would mean by that, she trips.
They both end up rolling down the dune landing in a heap and Gilbert just barely bites his tongue to hold back the string of curses as they land in a tangle at the bottom. Stupid clumsy girl! He spits sand out of his mouth and stands back up. He’s sore as he turns around and is about to yell when he sees her pushing herself to her knees looking down. She stops, her fists balled up in her skirts and her face is pink. She trembles and he prays she doesn’t start crying because he never knows what to do in a situation like that. He crouches down in front of her.
“H-hey look- calm down, okay? It happens to everyone. Okay not me ‘cause I’m way too awesome and coordinated but...” he trails off as she slowly she gets to her feet brushing at her skirt. She’s silent and isn’t looking at him.
“I do that a lot,” she says quietly. He snorts.
“So what? You’re a girl, who cares?” She smiles at that but it looks sad.
“Of course. Yes. I am a female.” The words sound rehearsed like a litany or a prayer but he doesn’t pay much attention. “It’s okay for me to need help when I’m like this...” her voice falls to a whisper as she trails off.
“Besides, that’s what guys like me are here for: to pick up women when they fall down and to fight for God!” She sighs and looks towards the harbor in the distance wistfully.
“I wish I could fight.”
“Pah! You?” he looks her up and down again, this time with a warrior’s eye. “If you could even hold a sword I’d be surprised.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave that to warriors like me, right?”
“But I can be strong without raising a sword,” she seems to say mostly to herself as she starts walking. There’s something about the melancholy surrounding her that pulls at him and he guides her as they walk back towards the encampment.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he answers decisively. “The strong are the conquerers. The warriors with God on our side.” He slashes dramatically at the air. “What’s stronger than that?”
“Christ, our savior was the strongest and bravest crusader ever to live without so much as raising a sword,” she retorts as if it’s an argument she’s made a thousand times before.
Re: Prussia/Germany/Austria et al Who's Afraid of Roderich Edelstein? [Rewrite] prologue/sidestory D
(Anonymous) 2010-10-08 06:02 am (UTC)(link)She continues to walk and he’s silent and contemplative at the words because he surely would never blaspheme and say otherwise. Gilbert resheathes the sword and puts a hand on her shoulder as the harbor comes into view.
“Hey don’t go doing anything dumb. If you need a sword... I’ll be it. I’m a helluva lot stronger than any man here,” he boasts. She blinks at him and looks away as if she’ll be angry with him again and just what on earth is her damn problem?
“D-don’t make such thoughtless declarations like that. You’re nothing but a child and if you even live to see the next century I’ll be surprised.”
“Hah! Just you wait ‘princess’,” he states with a cocksure grin. “Ten years- ten thousand, it’s doesn’t matter. I’ll be the greatest legend the world’s ever seen.” Sighting the ships at the harbor, she breaks away from him with a haughty laugh.
“If that day ever comes sir knight, I’ll be waiting!” As he watches her leave he wonders if he’ll ever see her again.
Still thinking of her, he picks up his practice drills again against an unseen foe losing track of time. When he finally hears the introducing fanfare and sees Leopold’s entourage parade themselves through the encampment it’s from a distance. He thinks he spots sees the little sissy Ludwig seemed so enamored with seated on a white horse next to the duke. The small figure, clad in ceremonial armor- anything that gaudy and blinding couldn’t possibly be functional- sword strapped to his side looks no older than Gilbert himself. He sits straight backed and rigid and even from a distance, he exudes an arrogance that annoys him. Stupid girly loser thinking he’s better than everyone else. Bet I could knock him down a peg. He can’t see him clearly but he’s resolves in that moment that he’s going to do exactly that.
Notes:
Acre during this time was under siege during the third crusade. The Teutonic Knights were founded at this time at a field hospital- the one where Gilbert is now.
Leopold V was the duke of Austria during the time of the Third crusade. After the siege was won, Leopold’s flag was raised along with Phillip’s and Richard’s. Richard removed Leopold’s flag however and Leopold, furious left for home.
Richard I and Phillip II were the kings of England and France respectively during this time period.
Lübeck was an imperial city in what was the Holy Roman Empire. Merchants from Lübeck and Bremen were the ones to travel to Acre and set up the field hospital which eventually created the Teutonic Knights.
Otto I was the first king of what would later be known as the Holy Roman Empire. In this story Germany and HRE are one in the same but this is a bit of my own headcannon on how they became nations.
Barbarossa “Red Beard” in italian AKA Frederick I was Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire from 1155-1190
Saladin AKA Ṣalāḥ ad-Dīn Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb was proclaimed Sultan of Egypt and Syria and led the muslim resistance against the crusaders from the 3rd crusade.
If anyone more learned than me in anything in the story has any corrections, definitely let me know!
“Hey don’t go doing anything dumb. If you need a sword... I’ll be it. I’m a helluva lot stronger than any man here,” he boasts. She blinks at him and looks away as if she’ll be angry with him again and just what on earth is her damn problem?
“D-don’t make such thoughtless declarations like that. You’re nothing but a child and if you even live to see the next century I’ll be surprised.”
“Hah! Just you wait ‘princess’,” he states with a cocksure grin. “Ten years- ten thousand, it’s doesn’t matter. I’ll be the greatest legend the world’s ever seen.” Sighting the ships at the harbor, she breaks away from him with a haughty laugh.
“If that day ever comes sir knight, I’ll be waiting!” As he watches her leave he wonders if he’ll ever see her again.
Still thinking of her, he picks up his practice drills again against an unseen foe losing track of time. When he finally hears the introducing fanfare and sees Leopold’s entourage parade themselves through the encampment it’s from a distance. He thinks he spots sees the little sissy Ludwig seemed so enamored with seated on a white horse next to the duke. The small figure, clad in ceremonial armor- anything that gaudy and blinding couldn’t possibly be functional- sword strapped to his side looks no older than Gilbert himself. He sits straight backed and rigid and even from a distance, he exudes an arrogance that annoys him. Stupid girly loser thinking he’s better than everyone else. Bet I could knock him down a peg. He can’t see him clearly but he’s resolves in that moment that he’s going to do exactly that.
Notes:
Acre during this time was under siege during the third crusade. The Teutonic Knights were founded at this time at a field hospital- the one where Gilbert is now.
Leopold V was the duke of Austria during the time of the Third crusade. After the siege was won, Leopold’s flag was raised along with Phillip’s and Richard’s. Richard removed Leopold’s flag however and Leopold, furious left for home.
Richard I and Phillip II were the kings of England and France respectively during this time period.
Lübeck was an imperial city in what was the Holy Roman Empire. Merchants from Lübeck and Bremen were the ones to travel to Acre and set up the field hospital which eventually created the Teutonic Knights.
Otto I was the first king of what would later be known as the Holy Roman Empire. In this story Germany and HRE are one in the same but this is a bit of my own headcannon on how they became nations.
Barbarossa “Red Beard” in italian AKA Frederick I was Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire from 1155-1190
Saladin AKA Ṣalāḥ ad-Dīn Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb was proclaimed Sultan of Egypt and Syria and led the muslim resistance against the crusaders from the 3rd crusade.
If anyone more learned than me in anything in the story has any corrections, definitely let me know!
Re: Prussia/Germany/Austria et al Who's Afraid of Roderich Edelstein? [Rewrite] 10/?
(Anonymous) 2010-10-08 06:07 am (UTC)(link)Just wanted to give a quick thanks to everyone who’s reading! This part teases at the prompt; I know I’m horrible, but I love the idea of love and forgiveness and in some cases the inability to forgive.
Other pairings include Austria/Hungary, Poland/Hungary, America/Canada, small Germany/N Italy, and hints of Greece/America. (This list just keeps growing, doesn’t it ?*falls over*
Hechingen, Germany
Hohenzollern Castle
November 30th, Present Day
“Thank you, young man.” The woman takes the carefully wrapped package of gingerbread hearts from his fingers. Germany smiles, remembering a young girl standing at the same stall holding her mother’s hand some forty years earlier. He returns the smile easily. Behind him Prussia is starting to put away the unsold merchandise and she continues on. “You know I have a daughter about your age,” she hints and he finds himself getting somewhat red in the face.
“Ah, thank you ma’am, I’m flattered but-”
“But my baby brother’s spoken for.” Prussia appears next to him unexpectedly an arm slung casually around his shoulder amused with the entire situation.
“Yup, such a shame too, he’s just such a cute little fellow isn’t he?” Prussia pinches his cheek and he and the woman share a laugh.
“Ah, of course, they always are,” she says with a shake of her head and Germany splutters indignantly before shoving his brother away thoroughly red faced as she leaves.
“That’s the fifth one today! Do you really have to do that every time?!” he exclaims as the crowd slowly continue a path back to their vehicles. Prussia’s eyes dart to the people far too occupied with their purchases and the children chasing snowflakes falling to pay them any mind.
His mouth is at Germany’s ear; his ability to insinuate himself in his brother’s personal space has only been turned into a finally honed craft over the years.
“But it’s only the truth, brother,” he argues with a hot rush of breath and Germany shivers.
“You’re too reckless, Gilbert,” he chastises without any real heat. The fire’s gone down to his stomach where Prussia deftly slides a hand between the large brass buttons of the black coat. The only response he receives is a chuckle.
“In seventy years, West, they’ve never once suspected the two of us.” They spend so damn much time following specs around ‘cause of France’s fucking hard on they don’t even see what’s going on right under their noses.
He can live with that.
He doesn’t know why they don’t suspect. Veneziano confirmed years ago that there was nothing between himself and Germany unless they thought he was being discreet. Of course they don’t know that neither Italy’s ever forgotten the nightmare that was the end of the war and even if Veneziano’s forgiven he’s never forgotten. There are some things better left to their own memories. And still, they’d never once suspected the two of them when even America and Canada finally fell onto the radar...
Sitting in the bathroom with his feet up against the stall door, Prussia was fighting to control his breathing. Georg Friedrich had browbeaten him into coming to these damn things ever since the wall came down not seeming to understanding how pointless his presence really was. He also had no idea what these fucking things were like and how nasty the old grudges were. He had no idea that half of them were waiting to break him ‘cause he didn’t die in ‘47 like he was fucking supposed to. But his king was his king and he showed up, let the losers bask in his awesome presence, and fuck why did Hungary have to bring that up. She swore she’d never tell and fuck she didn’t come out and say it but...
Other pairings include Austria/Hungary, Poland/Hungary, America/Canada, small Germany/N Italy, and hints of Greece/America. (This list just keeps growing, doesn’t it ?*falls over*
Hechingen, Germany
Hohenzollern Castle
November 30th, Present Day
“Thank you, young man.” The woman takes the carefully wrapped package of gingerbread hearts from his fingers. Germany smiles, remembering a young girl standing at the same stall holding her mother’s hand some forty years earlier. He returns the smile easily. Behind him Prussia is starting to put away the unsold merchandise and she continues on. “You know I have a daughter about your age,” she hints and he finds himself getting somewhat red in the face.
“Ah, thank you ma’am, I’m flattered but-”
“But my baby brother’s spoken for.” Prussia appears next to him unexpectedly an arm slung casually around his shoulder amused with the entire situation.
“Yup, such a shame too, he’s just such a cute little fellow isn’t he?” Prussia pinches his cheek and he and the woman share a laugh.
“Ah, of course, they always are,” she says with a shake of her head and Germany splutters indignantly before shoving his brother away thoroughly red faced as she leaves.
“That’s the fifth one today! Do you really have to do that every time?!” he exclaims as the crowd slowly continue a path back to their vehicles. Prussia’s eyes dart to the people far too occupied with their purchases and the children chasing snowflakes falling to pay them any mind.
His mouth is at Germany’s ear; his ability to insinuate himself in his brother’s personal space has only been turned into a finally honed craft over the years.
“But it’s only the truth, brother,” he argues with a hot rush of breath and Germany shivers.
“You’re too reckless, Gilbert,” he chastises without any real heat. The fire’s gone down to his stomach where Prussia deftly slides a hand between the large brass buttons of the black coat. The only response he receives is a chuckle.
“In seventy years, West, they’ve never once suspected the two of us.” They spend so damn much time following specs around ‘cause of France’s fucking hard on they don’t even see what’s going on right under their noses.
He can live with that.
He doesn’t know why they don’t suspect. Veneziano confirmed years ago that there was nothing between himself and Germany unless they thought he was being discreet. Of course they don’t know that neither Italy’s ever forgotten the nightmare that was the end of the war and even if Veneziano’s forgiven he’s never forgotten. There are some things better left to their own memories. And still, they’d never once suspected the two of them when even America and Canada finally fell onto the radar...
Sitting in the bathroom with his feet up against the stall door, Prussia was fighting to control his breathing. Georg Friedrich had browbeaten him into coming to these damn things ever since the wall came down not seeming to understanding how pointless his presence really was. He also had no idea what these fucking things were like and how nasty the old grudges were. He had no idea that half of them were waiting to break him ‘cause he didn’t die in ‘47 like he was fucking supposed to. But his king was his king and he showed up, let the losers bask in his awesome presence, and fuck why did Hungary have to bring that up. She swore she’d never tell and fuck she didn’t come out and say it but...
Re: Prussia/Germany/Austria et al Who's Afraid of Roderich Edelstein? [Rewrite] 11/?
(Anonymous) 2010-10-08 06:12 am (UTC)(link)His hands shook as he read the magazine he’d stolen from his brother’s suitcase for shits and giggles. He was currently staring intently at Jami Ferrel’s centerfold willing his dick to get hard cursing Poland, that fucking bitch for her snippy remark about finally being with a real man- who gave a fuck if he started it they had a mans agreement not to talk about that-, his fucking brother for flipping his shit about interruptions and drawing everyone’s goddamn attention, and fucking Austria for sitting there drinking his tea not even having the decency to be offended on his own behalf. Fuck all if it wasn’t for Canada showing up looking like a steampunk poster boy they’d probably have started asking questions. S’gotta be the tits. He thought as his eyes bore a hole in the glossy page. S’got tan lines like a fucking whore, yeah. And those hips... is she a woman or a fucking cow? These losers wouldn’t know a hot woman if she fucking bit ‘em.
His mind wandered to a porcelain skinned goddess with violet eyes, slender wrists, the white column of her neck framed with a dazzling array of diamonds and amethyst, that dress off the shoulders, that slim waist, and underneath it endless fucking legs, and an ass to die for... christ that ass was like a peach he loved to bite and even as he stared at the page his eyes clouded over and he palmed his crotch breathing heavier. He was brought up short by the sound of the bathroom door opening and he cursed, realizing exactly what he was thinking of. Fuck you, Liz, I’m not a fucking faggot and why the hell you had to bring that time up this many centuries later... he heard America come in loudly with a stretch and a soft curse and mutter about how no one was taking him seriously. Prussia felt his fingers twisting in his hair as he fought to calm himself down. I told you my head was messed up you stupid bitch. I wasn’t feeling well... I couldn’t get it up ‘cause you have an ugly fucking peasant body and it was too fucking cold and-
He heard the door open again and forced himself back to the present. He wasn’t sure he recognized the shoes until he heard a soft voice that was unmistakably Canada.
“Al, what the hell is your-” Prussia heard the voice cut off and heard the sound of heavy breathing and shoes scuffling on the tile from a brief short lived struggle. He heard the two of them moan and cast a withering look to his dick for daring to remain hard at the sound. And why were those two being so fucking reckless? He was about to open the door and let them know just how stupid they were when he saw their feet and realized that they were in the exact blind spot of the security camera set to watch the door. So it wasn’t their first time doing this here...
“Fuck, Mattie why did you have to wear that today? That ugly tan suit of yours finally dry rot off?”
“You told me that you like seeing me dressed like this andyoudon’thavetoinsultmyclothes so I don’t know why-“
“For me! Not for them! Christ, I couldn’t stand the way they were looking at you.”
“Oh? I hadn’t-” sounded somewhat breathless.
“Don’t you dare play dumb you passive aggressive little…” America’s voice was half muffled, and the sound of sloppy kissing could be heard as he spoke. “Knew exactly what you were doing.”
“I like it when you look at me like that.” Canada breathed the response in a rush and he could hear their mouths connecting again. “I hate it when you ignore me.” More moans; more Canada than America. “You inconsiderate.” Harder kiss. “I should.” Back hitting the wall; again Canada. “Ignore you.” Whimper bitten back behind a finger; why the hell did he know so damn much about that sissy? “Oh God…”The sound of two bodies rutting against each other permeated the room and Prussia was both morbidly fascinated by how crazy they were while now trying to will his cock to go soft. Fucking tight pants. Like West couldn’t throw another load in before we left? S’too hot in here... yeah, that’s what it is. He crossed himself. Christ like he wasn’t already going to hell if such a thing existed without needing to add that to the list.
His mind wandered to a porcelain skinned goddess with violet eyes, slender wrists, the white column of her neck framed with a dazzling array of diamonds and amethyst, that dress off the shoulders, that slim waist, and underneath it endless fucking legs, and an ass to die for... christ that ass was like a peach he loved to bite and even as he stared at the page his eyes clouded over and he palmed his crotch breathing heavier. He was brought up short by the sound of the bathroom door opening and he cursed, realizing exactly what he was thinking of. Fuck you, Liz, I’m not a fucking faggot and why the hell you had to bring that time up this many centuries later... he heard America come in loudly with a stretch and a soft curse and mutter about how no one was taking him seriously. Prussia felt his fingers twisting in his hair as he fought to calm himself down. I told you my head was messed up you stupid bitch. I wasn’t feeling well... I couldn’t get it up ‘cause you have an ugly fucking peasant body and it was too fucking cold and-
He heard the door open again and forced himself back to the present. He wasn’t sure he recognized the shoes until he heard a soft voice that was unmistakably Canada.
“Al, what the hell is your-” Prussia heard the voice cut off and heard the sound of heavy breathing and shoes scuffling on the tile from a brief short lived struggle. He heard the two of them moan and cast a withering look to his dick for daring to remain hard at the sound. And why were those two being so fucking reckless? He was about to open the door and let them know just how stupid they were when he saw their feet and realized that they were in the exact blind spot of the security camera set to watch the door. So it wasn’t their first time doing this here...
“Fuck, Mattie why did you have to wear that today? That ugly tan suit of yours finally dry rot off?”
“You told me that you like seeing me dressed like this andyoudon’thavetoinsultmyclothes so I don’t know why-“
“For me! Not for them! Christ, I couldn’t stand the way they were looking at you.”
“Oh? I hadn’t-” sounded somewhat breathless.
“Don’t you dare play dumb you passive aggressive little…” America’s voice was half muffled, and the sound of sloppy kissing could be heard as he spoke. “Knew exactly what you were doing.”
“I like it when you look at me like that.” Canada breathed the response in a rush and he could hear their mouths connecting again. “I hate it when you ignore me.” More moans; more Canada than America. “You inconsiderate.” Harder kiss. “I should.” Back hitting the wall; again Canada. “Ignore you.” Whimper bitten back behind a finger; why the hell did he know so damn much about that sissy? “Oh God…”The sound of two bodies rutting against each other permeated the room and Prussia was both morbidly fascinated by how crazy they were while now trying to will his cock to go soft. Fucking tight pants. Like West couldn’t throw another load in before we left? S’too hot in here... yeah, that’s what it is. He crossed himself. Christ like he wasn’t already going to hell if such a thing existed without needing to add that to the list.
Re: Prussia/Germany/Austria et al Who's Afraid of Roderich Edelstein? [Rewrite] 12a/?
(Anonymous) 2010-10-08 06:14 am (UTC)(link)Austria told him he’d warned the two how fucking dangerous it was to even think about looking at each other like that where anyone could see; clearly he pussy footed around and didn’t lay it out straight. Prussia was about to come out and tell them flat out if they didn’t want to be set on fucking fire they better keep it in their pants and the last thing he wanted to hear when he was trying to jack off to tits and ass was the two of them going at it like this was a fucking porno. His hand stilled, foot midair when the footsteps were heard outside the door. The two broke away hurried; America already moved to the urinals starting to pee and Canada made to leave, almost getting hit by the door as it opened stammering apologies as he effectively blocked the intruder’s line of sight.
Prussia was almost impressed.
“S-sorry again,” Canada murmured before exiting and Prussia squinted, trying to recognize the brown shoes that passed the stall. America’s dick must’ve been shocked limp because Prussia already heard him pissing. The stream was joined by a second and he still wasn’t sure who it was. No one said a word and he knew that idiot couldn’t read the atmosphere worth a damn but-
“So this is where you ran of to.” He heard a voice say at last: Greece.
“Yeah. Figured I’d beat it before all the crazy turned back on me hah.” Like that forced laugh was fooling anyone. “Guess Mattie had the same idea. Y’know, always copying me and-”
“I’ve been watching that show of yours and New Zealand’s.” Well that was an odd fucking segue. “It’s interesting.” Last he heard the two of them had one of the ugliest breakups in history that didn’t end up in a war. Germany said that Greece was fucking terrifying in his anger. Course that was in almost thirty years ago and he tried not to think about that time, himself.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” His voice dropped and was oddly soft, almost uncertain. “I learned a lot from you... back then.”
“Ah, it that so?” he heard Greece ask, the both of them moving to the sink. He had to strain to him him speaking over the running water, precariously balanced on the toilet as he leaned. “Do you remember the story I told you about Narcissus.” He couldn’t see but somehow he knew that America had gone still.
“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Yeah I do.” They were both silent, America unusually contemplative as if remembering something bittersweet. “Hey ah... I gotta go. Ludwig’s probably whipped everyone back into shape so...” Prussia couldn’t see them, try as he might through the crack on the door. No, wait, if he moved he could just make out Greece putting a damp hand to the side of America’s face. America’s blue eyes were wide.
“The beautiful young man who scorned the one who loved him... and fell in love with his own reflection.” He could see Greece lean in, and as the water saver faucets shut off, he could hear Greece whisper against America’s stunned mouth, “You remember what happened to him don’t you, Alfred?” Prussia could hear the sharp intake of breath and saw America whirl as Greece moved to dry his hands. He couldn’t hear what was said between them over the sound of the airdryer. He only saw America turn away ashen faced as Greece made his exit. America didn’t see the half turn back, and the sad green eyes that looked at him for only a passing moment.
He comes back into the present as Germany grumbles and after a brief moment of indulgence in the touch forcibly removes Prussia’s hand.
“At least not here. God, can’t you wait til we get home?” He ducks his head to hide his embarrassment and begins to pack up the gingerbread hearts. Prussia laughs as he goes back to his own box. He can’t help the way his eyes flicker to the strong, broad back and shoulders as Germany works quickly and efficiently and once again he’s thankful that they’ve never suspected. His relationship with his brother never has been and never will be anyone else’s fucking business and they’ll never understand what’s between the two of them without having to put a fucking label to it.
Prussia was almost impressed.
“S-sorry again,” Canada murmured before exiting and Prussia squinted, trying to recognize the brown shoes that passed the stall. America’s dick must’ve been shocked limp because Prussia already heard him pissing. The stream was joined by a second and he still wasn’t sure who it was. No one said a word and he knew that idiot couldn’t read the atmosphere worth a damn but-
“So this is where you ran of to.” He heard a voice say at last: Greece.
“Yeah. Figured I’d beat it before all the crazy turned back on me hah.” Like that forced laugh was fooling anyone. “Guess Mattie had the same idea. Y’know, always copying me and-”
“I’ve been watching that show of yours and New Zealand’s.” Well that was an odd fucking segue. “It’s interesting.” Last he heard the two of them had one of the ugliest breakups in history that didn’t end up in a war. Germany said that Greece was fucking terrifying in his anger. Course that was in almost thirty years ago and he tried not to think about that time, himself.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” His voice dropped and was oddly soft, almost uncertain. “I learned a lot from you... back then.”
“Ah, it that so?” he heard Greece ask, the both of them moving to the sink. He had to strain to him him speaking over the running water, precariously balanced on the toilet as he leaned. “Do you remember the story I told you about Narcissus.” He couldn’t see but somehow he knew that America had gone still.
“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Yeah I do.” They were both silent, America unusually contemplative as if remembering something bittersweet. “Hey ah... I gotta go. Ludwig’s probably whipped everyone back into shape so...” Prussia couldn’t see them, try as he might through the crack on the door. No, wait, if he moved he could just make out Greece putting a damp hand to the side of America’s face. America’s blue eyes were wide.
“The beautiful young man who scorned the one who loved him... and fell in love with his own reflection.” He could see Greece lean in, and as the water saver faucets shut off, he could hear Greece whisper against America’s stunned mouth, “You remember what happened to him don’t you, Alfred?” Prussia could hear the sharp intake of breath and saw America whirl as Greece moved to dry his hands. He couldn’t hear what was said between them over the sound of the airdryer. He only saw America turn away ashen faced as Greece made his exit. America didn’t see the half turn back, and the sad green eyes that looked at him for only a passing moment.
He comes back into the present as Germany grumbles and after a brief moment of indulgence in the touch forcibly removes Prussia’s hand.
“At least not here. God, can’t you wait til we get home?” He ducks his head to hide his embarrassment and begins to pack up the gingerbread hearts. Prussia laughs as he goes back to his own box. He can’t help the way his eyes flicker to the strong, broad back and shoulders as Germany works quickly and efficiently and once again he’s thankful that they’ve never suspected. His relationship with his brother never has been and never will be anyone else’s fucking business and they’ll never understand what’s between the two of them without having to put a fucking label to it.
Re: Prussia/Germany/Austria et al Who's Afraid of Roderich Edelstein? [Rewrite] 12b/?
(Anonymous) 2010-10-08 06:17 am (UTC)(link)They continue to work, the crowd eventually fading down to nothing, the hearts packed up, the temperature dropping. He made sure to let Austria know the impending disaster that Christmas was shaping up to be and as he hangs up, he puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder. They face away from each other, but even so Germany puts a calloused hand over his.
“So West, place your bet. What are the odds that they’re playing another one of their stupid little games?” Germany sighs before dropping his hand again and taking a box.
“Whatever happens, Gilbert, just remember it was your idea to involve us in their business.”
“Hah! What’s life without a little batshit craziness, West?” His grin is wide as he takes a box and deliberately bumps his brother. The small smile on Germany’s face as he looks at him in return is all the confirmation he needs.
The two of them start back inside the castle, both sparing a glance for the third box they’re forced to leave behind. They’ll have to come back for it.
Notes:
I honestly don’t know how many years they’ve had a Christmas market at the Hohenzollern Castle. I can’t find it online and haven’t heard back from the inquiry I sent to the contact on the website. If anyone knows that’d be great.
Georg Friedrich is the current head of the Hohenzollern royal family. That’s the ruling family of the kingdom of Prussia.
1947 was when Prussia was officially dissolved.
Jami Ferrel was the Playboy Playmate centerfold for the January 1997 edition.
The television show being referenced is Hercules: The Legendary Journeys.
The “breakup” Prussia refers to occurred during America’s support of the 1967-1974 military coup in Greece as well as support of the monarchy on the Greek Civil war in the 1940s. Bill Clinton summed it up well in an apology issued in 1999 when he said “When the junta took over in 1967 here, the United States allowed its interests in prosecuting the Cold War to prevail over its interests - I should say its obligation - to support democracy, which was, after all, the cause for which we fought the Cold War. It is important that we acknowledge that.” American/Greek relations were very strained as a result.
Things are definitely starting to heat up a bit more.
“So West, place your bet. What are the odds that they’re playing another one of their stupid little games?” Germany sighs before dropping his hand again and taking a box.
“Whatever happens, Gilbert, just remember it was your idea to involve us in their business.”
“Hah! What’s life without a little batshit craziness, West?” His grin is wide as he takes a box and deliberately bumps his brother. The small smile on Germany’s face as he looks at him in return is all the confirmation he needs.
The two of them start back inside the castle, both sparing a glance for the third box they’re forced to leave behind. They’ll have to come back for it.
Notes:
I honestly don’t know how many years they’ve had a Christmas market at the Hohenzollern Castle. I can’t find it online and haven’t heard back from the inquiry I sent to the contact on the website. If anyone knows that’d be great.
Georg Friedrich is the current head of the Hohenzollern royal family. That’s the ruling family of the kingdom of Prussia.
1947 was when Prussia was officially dissolved.
Jami Ferrel was the Playboy Playmate centerfold for the January 1997 edition.
The television show being referenced is Hercules: The Legendary Journeys.
The “breakup” Prussia refers to occurred during America’s support of the 1967-1974 military coup in Greece as well as support of the monarchy on the Greek Civil war in the 1940s. Bill Clinton summed it up well in an apology issued in 1999 when he said “When the junta took over in 1967 here, the United States allowed its interests in prosecuting the Cold War to prevail over its interests - I should say its obligation - to support democracy, which was, after all, the cause for which we fought the Cold War. It is important that we acknowledge that.” American/Greek relations were very strained as a result.
Things are definitely starting to heat up a bit more.
The Russian-German Confederation similarities show! WOOT!
I love that idea so much that I'm now willing to give my babies' names to you <3
I love that idea so much that I'm now willing to give my babies' names to you <3
its true war would dull the pain but take it this way America who has been constantly at war and is a SUPERPOWER and can CHOOSE not to read the atmosphere is scared of /ghosts/ and is worried about weight problems. He is partially human after all and little things like childish fears and insecurities do happen. So does irrational logic (his not fat just muscular). England may have been an empire and fought for so long but theyve never actually admited they love eachother or anything of that sort. So although it wouldnt exactly make him completely stop loving France Im sure it would in fact affect him enough to discourage it.
Also think about this as a human. Since they are part human. Anytime someone pretends to like someone as a prank ...well its just awful! It doesnt matter if it was done because they 'didnt know' or because of fighting. (btw here it implies the remark wasnt so bad since it keeps having comments like 'the wine wasnt as good as it could have been' impling they werent having the best day and then that they were bored so they came up with this and went with it. Plus Im pretty sure Germany agreed with arthur somewhere in there and he is always sensible).
And something 'mean' warrants them pranking him so viciously? seriously what world do you live in where a bad remark = lets break his heart or at least see if we can humilate him in front of /all of Europe/ knowing he cant say jack shit because he is proud.
Also think about this as a human. Since they are part human. Anytime someone pretends to like someone as a prank ...well its just awful! It doesnt matter if it was done because they 'didnt know' or because of fighting. (btw here it implies the remark wasnt so bad since it keeps having comments like 'the wine wasnt as good as it could have been' impling they werent having the best day and then that they were bored so they came up with this and went with it. Plus Im pretty sure Germany agreed with arthur somewhere in there and he is always sensible).
And something 'mean' warrants them pranking him so viciously? seriously what world do you live in where a bad remark = lets break his heart or at least see if we can humilate him in front of /all of Europe/ knowing he cant say jack shit because he is proud.
Also spain is the nation of passion and france of love so they should know by know what toying with a heart can do to another nation.
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