Quick fic on the Austro-Prussian War. Notes at the bottom. A c/p from my tumblr.
[Warnings: mentions of war and blood]
"The success is compete. Vienna lies at Your Majesty's feet."
July 3, 1866
Roderich could still hear the sunken blasts of artillery. There was a heavy scent of gunpowder and blood and Roderich was satisfied that at least a portion of it was Prussian, the thought pulling a bitter smirk to his lips.
"What do you have to smile at?" a voice sneered and it slipped just as quickly.
"The sound of Prussian dead by Austrian guns," he retorted and then gasped as the tip of a boot met his stomach and left him coughing gracelessly. A hand grabbed at his hair and twisted painfully, and Roderich hoped his wince would go undetected. He was hauled to his feet and he struggled to find ground with his muddied officer's boots, the bound hands tied behind his back straining uselessly. He felt himself dragged until he was pinned against the sharp edge of a table and this time he let himself wince openly, prompting his captor to dig the wood in between each bone even harder.
"Wanna think of a different answer, Little Master?" heavy breath against his ear asked, the hand in his hair pulling his head back as far back as it could go without fully shattering him.
Roderich could feel the other leaning over him- leering, delighting in his struggle. He let out a short hiss between grit teeth and tried yanking his head to the side, to little success. "Want to think about updating your cannons?" he finally managed, smug in the way the monster's nostrils flared and his pupils narrowed. Roderich could be satisfied in this singular reaction alone, he thought, almost forgetting about the crooked fingers fisted in his hair or the sounds of Austrian dead by Prussian rifles outside. He couldn't help the bitter smirk from returning, pulling back his shoulders just a fraction. "Afraid?" he asked, just to get a rise out of the other.
"Of you?" came the reply. "Even France is more of a threat then you are, Little Master." And though it was a jeer, they both knew it held more weight than Gilbert had intended, a heavy pause between them.
Roderich took the opportunity to pounce, returning a mocking, "And would you be holding Francis this close if he were here?"
He was satisfied to gain the reaction he did, a snarl ripping into the monster's reply as Roderich felt himself yanked off the table, the hold moving to his throat. For a breath, neither of them moved, Gilbert's breathing heavy and angry while Roderich's short and held. Then both of them turned as an officer entered and gave a hasty respect to Gilbert, clearly excited. "The prince's forces have just broken in to the Austrian right, Sir," he said eagerly, ignoring the scene.
Roderich felt the pressure on his throat lessen and before he could even think to act on it, mind still reeling with shock, Gilbert had shoved him away, letting him stumble back blindly until he hit the table once more. "Is that so?" Gilbert drawled smugly and Roderich's lip curled, ready to push back a retort before Gilbert silenced him effectively. He hadn't even seen the other draw his sabre before it was being threatened against his throat, the tip still quivering. "Ah ah, you don't get to speak yet," he smirked. Roderich settled to glare at him, the defiant snarl still at his lips.
"I expect victory isn't far off," he continued easily, looking back at the officer. "With the Second Army here, beating these pansies is only a question of how much longer we'll have to waste our time here before claiming the real golden goose, Vienna," his eyes gleamed. Roderich cried out as Gilbert's sword left his throat and dug in with the slightest pressure at his chest, teasing his heart. The officer didn't say anything to the displayed action though Roderich saw his eyes flicker over to him briefly. They quickly returned to staring forward and his captor nodded once. "Dismissed," he said curtly and the man left. Roderich looked as defiantly as he could to his demon, who only smirked in reply. "Happy?" he spat.
"Very," Gilbert replied. The blade against his chest was lifted and sheathed though not without inflicting a short cut to the high of his cheekbone. Roderich cried out in surprise and the red began to spill down his skin, the canvas bleeding. "You should have given up at the start, Little Master. Would have saved yourself a few thousand musicians since that's all Austrians seem to be good for. Among a few other things," was added lowly and Roderich held his breath.
Before either of them could elaborate, the flap of the tent opened again and the king entered, removing his helmet and glancing between them. Gilbert didn't even bother in greeting, a certain smugness to his look as Roderich felt himself grabbed by the bloody collar of his white uniform and tossed to the feet of the Prussian monarchy. "The success is complete. Vienna lies at Your Majesty's feet," he announced shortly, and Roderich looked down with gritted teeth and clenched fists while Gilbert thought in satisfaction,
But his heart is mine.
—-
Historical Notes:
The Battle of Königgrätz was the largest conflict in the Austro-Prussian War. It was last battle on the Prussian front and was the decisive battle to secure Prussian victory. Despite follies on both sides, it was ultimately Prussian weaponry and leadership that prevailed, though for a while the Austrians were able to hold their own through canon fire alone (most of the Prussian artillery had not updated to the lighter-weight guns); it was the arrival of the Prussian Second Army that turned success back over to the Prussians and the Prussian General Staff chief Helmuth von Moltke supposedly remarked to Wilhelm I on the secured success. There was also pressure on Moltke to finish the war quickly due to concerns of France interfering with the war despite their pledged neutrality.
