-Author's Notes –

This is the prologue to a fic I've had in mind for a while now. We'll see how long it takes me to get it written though. By the way, "porzellan" means "porcelain" in German. Just so everyone is on the same page.

Warnings: Prologue – None, save for fictionalizing historical characters. Overall – Language, blood, disturbing themes, implied Germancest stuff….

Disclaimer: History = Not. Owning = Also Not.

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Porzellan

Prologue One: The Parchment

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A soft pitter-patter of bare feet on the stone-hewn floor echoed through the lonely palace, the sharp bite of black powder wafting through narrow corridors. Servants unconsciously stepped aside as the small figure dashed through the solemn halls, stark white hair streaming out behind him as he went. He skidded around a corner, bursting through a pair of heavy wooden doors with a flurry of wild noise.

"Fritz!"

Frederick looked up from his desk at the small child who stood panting in his study doorway. He laid down his pen to give the young one his full attention, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Fritz!" the child's red eyes shown brightly as he grinned, bearing his teeth. "Fritz! I won!"

A hint of vicious triumph flitted across the king's face, before it was smothered by a kind, affectionate smile. "Of course you did," Frederick said, gesturing for the boy to come and stand next to him, "You promised me you would."

The child beamed, running forward to pounce on the Italian greyhound curled up sleepily under his ruler's high backed chair. "It was great!" the boy chirped, gently tugging on the dog's tail to wake it. "I remember fightin' before, but it was so much more this time!"

Frederick studied the child. "Because you won?"

"No," the boy smirked, the cunning expression strange on a face so deceptively full with the innocence of youth. "Because I made them lose."

Frederick rose from his chair to join the child on the floor, coaxing out the greyhound from her resting place with a few softly murmured commands. He could feel the boy gazing up at him expectantly.

"You did well, young one," he assured the silver-haired boy, reaching out to gently rest his hand on the soft strands with fatherly affection.

The small figure fidgeted restlessly, blood red eyes trained on the ground. "I know."

"Then why do you not look proud? This is a glorious day for us."

The child sighed in poorly concealed exasperation and muttered, "You forgot."

Frederick absently stroked the greyhound's satin fur as he struggled to clear his head of the duties of war to remember what the elusive promised thing could have been. "The years are weighing heavy on my mind, little one. Remind me."

"You said…" the boy sighed and trailed off, focusing his attentions on the now content dog sprawled in front of him as he patted her fur, smoothing it into carefully deliberated patterns of silken grays.

Frederick smiled. "I said…?"

"You said I could have a name."

There it was, a sharp and clear memory of not one month ago, when the child had been even smaller, clutching to his hand with desperate fascination as he gave the young one his own title for the first time. When the boy first called him.

"You said I could have a name…since I gave you yours," the boy continued, his meek voice growing suspicious. "I called you 'Fritz' and you said –"

"I remember," Frederick said, his eyes shining with a quiet mirth that he seemed unwilling to share. "And I will keep my word."

The king rose to his feet and settled back into his plush arm chair, beckoning the boy to join him. The child grinned and sprung up, eagerly settling on Frederick's knee and fixing him with an intense gaze, crimson eyes swimming with naked curiosity and selfish delight.

"Now let's see…" Frederick mused, picking up his pen and a new sheet of parchment. "A name for you…"

"It has t' be cool!" the child insisted, tugging at Frederick's sleeve. "One that means somethin'! Somethin' great!"

"Aloysius?" the young king proposed, laughing when the boy made a disgusted face. "I will take that as a no."

"Hard t' spell," the boy muttered, picking at a loose thread on Frederick's sleeve. "Somethin' easier."

"Walter? Emmett?" Frederick suggested, "Bryon? Claus?"

The boy huffed with impatience, "No, no. That's all wrong. It needs to be like… like you. Like great. For forever."

"We may be forced to go with Heidi if you continue rejecting my suggestions," Frederick gently teased, making the young boy glare at him.

"Nooo… Fritz!" the child whined, impatiently snatching the pen from his ruler's hand and hiding it impishly behind his back. "It has t' be somethin' only you get t' call me."

Frederick's playful smile grew thoughtful as he skillfully retrieved his pen from the boy's grasp, eliciting an indignant, "Hey!" from the child.

"Prussia."

He spoke with the voice of a king.

The child straightened his back, his face proud and stern. "Yes, your majesty."

Frederick looked down at the boy's haughty countenance, his fine silver hair gleaming in the yellow sunlight that streamed through the window.

"Remember always, young one, that Prussia is the name you give to others. That is the name that will make them fear and respect you."

The red eyes grew hungry. "I understand, my king."

"This second name is to be a secret," Frederick said firmly, placing his pen to paper and letting the letters bleed out behind his motions, the loops and curls melding into one another as the child tried to follow the movements with a ravenous gaze. Frederick blotted the parchment carefully before pressing it into the boy's eager hands. "Keep it hidden from all, save for me and those that follow," the king said gently, releasing the small hands so that the boy could see his new name. "Your first name is power. This second one is weakness. Vulnerability. Bear this always in mind, young one. Trust no one with it, save for those in whom you have unrelenting and indomitable faith."

The child almost ripped the paper in his impatience, reading the short word with lightening speed. He looked up into the face of his king, murderous eyes hopeful with an unspoken question.

Frederick nodded, took the paper from the child and folded it, dripping hot wax on the edge to seal it shut with a deft press of his embellished ring. He returned the parchment, and the boy hugged it close, treasured it, before tucking the thin paper away inside his blood-stained robes. He hopped from Frederick's lap and ran for the door, the greyhound following after him with a graceful stride. He paused at the study door, whipping around to face his king.

"See ya later, Fritz!" the child called out, his voice clamoring with the strike of steel on steel.

Frederick turned to stare out of his study window, one hand raised in a casual gesture of farewell. He smiled openly into the afternoon sun.

"I shall see you soon enough, Gilbert."

The boy puffed up his chest with pride, but remained silent as he slipped out of the room. Frederick watched him go in the reflection of glass, seeing the seed of his ambition take hold of the child with the use of one, simple name.

He returned to his desk, pen resuming its light scratching against the uneven surface. "Goodbye for now," he murmured softly, finishing his signature with a flourish.

"For now, my little shining one."