Fic My Son and Country chapter 4

[firealchemist18.livejournal.com]

Title: My Son and Country
Author/Artist: Me!
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Frederick the Second, Germany, Prussia
Rating: T
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Frederick the Second had a son. One that lives to this day as the personification of Germany. A nation is born into a human family story.

Chapter 1: http://community.livejournal.com/hetalia/9802542.html
Chapter 2: http://community.livejournal.com/hetalia/9813340.html
Chapter 3: http://community.livejournal.com/hetalia/9834867.html



He didn’t get jealous. He never got jealous. There was no force on earth that could get him jealous.

Oh fuck it he was jealous.

Gilbert kept walking forward. When he passed that room he would quickly glance through the open crack in the door.

The little brat was smiling he noted. He kept laughing and just simply being happy. He saw someone pat him on the head like was a dog.

Gilbert bit back the growl in his throat as the kid closed his eyes and relished the feel of the person’s hand.

Gilbert tore himself away from where he was standing and stalked to the garden. Maybe some fresh air will help him think.

Gilbert sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He understood it all. The need to have an heir to the throne and everything. The need Frederick had to stay away from his son. Everything.

What he didn’t understand was the sudden relationship that was blooming between the two of them.

Again. He was not jealous. Not one bit.

The kid. The heir. The prince. The son.

Gilbert was ready to bet everything that he wasn’t human. He has seen way too much to allow certain signs to go by him.

His knowledge for one. According to Sophia he was skilled in many of the subjects; everything from history to science to math to geography, especially geography, to literature came easily to him.

Or maybe from others and into him.

He had been started with weapons. From the old bows and arrows to swords and knives to the ever growing more popular guns. His hands flew over it all with almost proactive ease and familiarity. Gilbert had secretly watched him spar and saw his non-experience vanish with clear eyes and steady sure hands. A natural they say.

Or from the nature and land which has seen countless fights and bloodshed itself.

Sophia comments a lot on his telling of pain. The doctors had of course been summoned however they were never able to find physical wounds and deemed it to be psychological.

Internal conflicts. The sorting of lands yet to be named.

Old and faded scars line his body, since birth if the words form his wet nurse was true.

Wars do leave their ever lasting marks, never to be forgotten.

And of course the healing. In five years and from the rapidly progressing of his training with weapons to his other activities he had been injured many times. Wounds deep and bleeding freely. Breaking an arm or a leg or some ribs from his hand to hand training. Each had healed rapidly and left no mark. A miracle from heaven some of royalty would say. Through divine destiny they were chosen by the heavens above and this was the proof.

As long as the land remained unharmed and in their name each wound would heal as if it was never there and they would continue to live.

Gilbert sighed and sat down at the base of a tress and leaned against it.

The signs were somewhat clear. He was a man who saw a question or a riddle to the end. He would get the answer.

And with their kind there was one sure fire way to know the truth.

Blood. Blood was everything. Running through their veins, making who they were, creating them.

All it would take was a simple tasting of his blood and he would know.
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But how to get to the blood? He couldn’t simply go up and stab the kid with a knife, no matter how good that prospect was starting to look to him with each passing day.

Go to him when he was sleeping and make a small cut?

No he might wake up.

Wait and hope that he would get wounded from his practices?

That seemed likely, but it would bring suspicion to him if he started to run to the child.

So what could he do?

Gilbert tapped the tip of his quill to his lips in thought.

“You look stressed.” Sophia commented entering the room he was in.

Gilbert started slightly and looked up from the scribbles that he had made in the past hour.

“Stressed? Me? Nah.” he said casually making sure to smudge the few legible words he had written.

“I see.” Sophia said.

Their eyes connected for a moment. Gilbert got the feeling that she was peering into his very soul and seeing all his hatred and thoughts towards the small prince she so loved.

She smiled thinly. “I see.” she repeated, taking the seat across from him.

Gilbert ignored the small bead of sweat rolling down his neck along with her knowing gaze and small smile.

“So. Where are the king and prince?” he asked in an attempt to get rid of the tension that had suddenly filled the room.

“Somewhere. Frederick wished to talk history with the child. He is a small child yet he knows so much already.” she answered.

“I bet.” Gilbert murmured under his breath.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Is there something bothering you Gilbert?” she asked.

Gilbert shook his head. “Nothing. Why?”

“It comes with being a mother and now a grandmother. You can sense certain things.” she answered.

“Well there’s nothing bothering me. Guess your sense is wrong.”

“Perhaps.” those eyes. Those very sharp and clear eyes of hers. It seemed like she could see through his lies with ease.

She smiled again.

“I‘m glad that Frederick and Ludwig are now spending time together. Every son should spend time with their father. Don’t you agree, Gilbert?” she asked.

Gilbert grunted in answer.

“Nice to see that you agree.” she said. “I‘m sure Frederick will make sure that Ludwig will grow into a fine king when that time comes.”

Gilbert snorted.

“Is there something you wish to add my dear?”

He shook his head.

“You look like you did.” she said. “Anyway. I wish for your opinion on something.”

“Shoot.”

“What are your thoughts on Ludwig?” she asked.

Gilbert shrugged. “Don’t really feel anything to him.”

“That’s a bit too bad.” she said. “Seeing as how he is going to be your king one day.”

Gilbert didn’t say anything.

“I think you two should talk a bit. I‘ll ask Frederick to arrange it.”
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Blue eyes met red eyes.

Blue eyes cleared his throat and looked back to the book in his hands.

Red eyes narrowed and scoffed slightly.

Blue eyes shuffled in their seat, almost nervously.

Red eyes glared.

Ludwig sighed and gathering his courage looked up at the man nearly glaring at him.

“What?” he asked.

“I just want you to know something.” Gilbert said leaning his elbow on the armrest and his head in his palm. “That I am only doing this because Frederick asked me to.”

“My reason is the same. My father asked me to.” Ludwig retorted.

Gilberts eyes narrowed ever farther. “Brat.”

“Ignoramus.”

“Excuse me?”

“Exactly.”

The brat was grinning now to himself.

“Oh yeah keep up that attitude. Really helps you on the battlefield when your opponents are trying to kill you left and right and swords are flying at you everywhere.” Gilbert snarled.

“I am learning and I am exceptional at fighting with both hand to hand combat and swordsmanship.” the brat said smiling triumphantly.

Gilbert cracked up his knuckles. “Keep talking and I‘ll see just how ‘exceptional’ you are personally.”

“No doubt.”

“Your six, stop talking like an old man.”

“Well forgive me for using proper grammar and a proper speaking tone.”

“Dear g-d you are starting to sound like Austria.”

“Austria?”

“Aristocrat. Nasty pansy really. Kinda like you.”

“I will take that as a compliment. This Austria sounds like he has proper manners and a proper behavior. Unlike you.”

“And I will take that as a compliment. It means I don’t have a stick all the way up my ass.”

“Oh be quiet.”

“Why on earth will I do that?”

The brat now was glaring at him. “Incase you haven’t realized it I am your prince.”

“Yeah I know that, unfortunately.”

“I am your prince.” he repeated. “I will one day be your king. I suggest you get used to taking orders from me.”

Gilbert ginned. That grin that showed all his teeth like a shark and was usually followed the other person with lots and lots of pain.

“We‘ll see.”
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Time passed while the two were forced to stay in the same room. Ludwig had started to fidget more and more in his chair while Gilbert could have sworn he saw the time he was wasting here waving to him from the window as it flew away.

“Alright then.” Gilbert said suddenly standing up and placing his hands on the table.

“It has been an honor my prince.” he spat out sarcastically. “But you’ll have to excuse me. I have more important things to do.”

“You see, is it so hard to talk like a civilized human being?” Ludwig asked gathering his books and jumping out of his seat. “You sound so much more respectable that way.”

Gilbert gritted his teeth and allowed the child to go ahead of him a few paces. He slowly slid out the small knife he had hidden up his sleeve.

He walked briskly to where the kid was and purposely tripped him.

He caught the child as he started to fall to the floor. The knife slid out of his sleeve hidden by the cloth and sliced a thin line on the child’s arm. So thin and small he didn’t even notice but enough to allow a few drops of blood to lie on the knifes metal.

“You should watch where you are going my prince.” Gilbert said mockingly. “I won’t always be there to catch you.”

Ludwig glared at him and pulled out of his grasp. “Don’t worry, I won’t need you.”

Prussia mockingly bowed to him slightly. “As you wish my prince.”

He kept his hands behind his back and a smile on his face as Ludwig threw him another suspicious look before running out of the room.

Gilbert waited until he heard the door close behind him before bringing the knife out from behind his back.

He grinned when he saw that it indeed held some of the brat’s blood.

He brought the knife to his mouth until his breath clouded the metal slightly as his tongue touched the metal and the blood.

His eyes widened as the iron taste gently touched his tongue. Fire coursed through his veins.

Iron and blood.

Pride. Honor. Loyalty. Fatherland.

The unnamed lands that have come up since the dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire.

Germany.

Gilbert’s eyes closed.

This kid was no human. Not one bit.

He was a personification of the lands. The people didn’t know what it was called but the lands have chosen their own name.

Germany. Descendent of Germania.

The one to pick up where Germania had failed in bringing the German speaking lands, then tribes, together into one.

Gilbert sighed and covered his eyes with his hand and slid the knife back into his pocket.

How on earth will he tell Sophia that her beloved grandson wasn’t human? That he was a personification of the lands itself.

How was he going to tell Frederick that his son wasn’t human?