Summary: Prussia arrives in Valley Forge to train the Continental Army when he runs into one of the last people he wants to meet, Poland.
Warnings: Cursing
A/N: Although it only got a few reviews, Revolutionary Fashion got a lot of traffic and story/author alerts… So I've decided to write some more for it. Since I'm fairly new to this whole 'creative writing thing', I'm not yet comfortable with writing a multi-chapter fic. I feel it would be best if this was then a collection of one-shots concerning America, Lithuania, and Poland (with guest appearances) during the American Revolutionary War. As an added note, I'm sort of using this as practice, so don't expect reliable updates, I'm a natural born procrastinator.
Prussia, known to some as Gilbert Beilschmidt, was livid. It was as simple as that. He had spent the last few months on a boat trying to reach this part of the world which had suddenly become so interesting once again. Granted, the welcoming party he and Baron von Steuben had received was literally awesome. The people of this new nation sure know how to make a person feel welcome. However, as awesome as the welcome had been, it was not enough to make up for the situation that the red eyed nation was currently in. Prussia, along with the Baron, was tasked with training the fairly new Continental Army. Essentially, as Prussia would later say, 'to turn a troupe of shit flinging monkeys into a modern fighting force'.
Normally, this wouldn't be much of a problem for the albino. However, when he arrived in the Continental camp at Valley Forge, he was appalled. Prussia had been expecting the situation to be bad… but there was no excuse for what awaited him. Not only did the Americans have no clue what-so-ever on how to properly set up a camp, but they rarely wore their military uniforms. Even worse, they used their bayonets for anything other than what they were intended for; to skewer any moron that dared stand in your way. Prussia could forgive this though; he knew that he'd be training a rabble group of farmers and the pampered sons of city-folk that knew nothing of war. What Prussia couldn't forgive was that Alfred F. Jones, the representation of the newly formed United States of America, was keeping him waiting.
Prussia is a very busy, very important man. He has an empire in Europe and is arguably the greatest, scratch that, IS the greatest, most awesome military power on land in the world. If the ungrateful little upstart couldn't be present on time, then Prussia wasn't even sure he wanted to bother wasting the time and energy to train him.
"I'm terribly sorry Sir, but Alfred has mostly spent the winter in Trenton. We sent word ahead of your arrival; he should arrive sometime today, or tomorrow," The aide explained as he noticed one of the irate albino's ruby eyes begin to twitch in annoyance. The aide shifted uncomfortably as the atmosphere within the Prussian's personal tent gradually became more hostile and stifling by the second. The constant strumming of fingers on the hard wood desk the albino was currently seated at only added to the aide's discomfort. Feeling that he needed to at least redeem the energetic blonde's actions he continued; "He has been helping with the reforming of the cavalry; which is mostly stationed there."
Reforming the cavalry, that caught the Prussian's interest. Judging from the current state of the camp Gilbert found himself stationed; America probably didn't know the front end of a horse from the back end. He let a small smirk grace his face as he imagined a bunch of wailing monkeys in clothes charging into battle on horseback; all the while facing the rear end of the horse.
"That would be awesome," Gilbert quietly said to himself. He eventually decided that if he was going to be kept waiting, the least he could do was exploit the Americans' hospitality. The aide was quickly dispatched to bring the Prussian something strong to drink that wasn't the usual watered down horse piss found in the colonies. To Gilbert's surprise, the aide returned relatively quickly with something suitable. He dismissed the aide, deciding that not all of the Americans at Valley Forge were entirely incompetent. Since there was nothing to do beside wait, Prussia began to create a schedule and possible training regimen on paper. He couldn't create the whole regimen on his own, he'd have to look it over with von Steuben, but it was always good to be prepared. Gilbert occupied himself with this task for about an hour before he heard what sounded like the approach of a horse.
'That must be the ungrateful brat,' Prussia thought to himself as he got up from his seat and headed towards the entrance of his tent. He wanted to see how the United States of America looked while riding a horse… if only to obtain useful ammunition against the young nation during his training. As he exited the tent and found himself standing on the cold, February ground of Valley Forge, Gilbert was taken aback by the sight that greeted him. America was atop a very powerful looking spotted, grey warhorse. What caught Gilbert off guard was that the horse was moving through the camp, performing the passage movement (a very difficult dressage indicating that the horse was incredibly well trained.) America himself, unlike most of his men, was actually wearing his military uniform. His posture while riding clearly indicated he was no amateur; and his limited use of the reins, controlling the horse with his legs and weight, indicated that he was a well-trained rider.
"Well, Shit!" Gilbert exclaimed as America dismounted his horse and handed the reins off to an aide that moved to stable it. "You sure like to show off don't you?"
Alfred flashed a radiant smile as he moved to introduce himself to the Prussian. He hesitated slightly when he fully took in Gilbert's appearance. Although he initially thought that red eyes were definitely cool, they quickly became rather unsettling. Prussia was sizing up America and judging him, and his eyes betrayed all of this to any who looked into them. Alfred soon decides he doesn't like being sized up, especially when the Prussian nation began to circle the American while muttering to himself.
"Well, you don't seem nearly as useless as your countrymen." Prussia states as he finishes his impromptu inspection of the American. Alfred frowns slightly at the insult to his people. "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt, the Awesome Prussian Empire. You can call me Prussia, or the most Awesome Nation in the World."
Prussia gave a toothy grin to the young nation. Alfred smiled in response, nearly blinding the Prussian in the process. The Prussian nation seemed rather interesting, and despite his serious and imposing nature, Alfred could tell he'd be a very fun friend to have around.
"I'm Alfred F. Jones, the United States of America," Alfred replied, still maintaining his smile.
"I said that you seemed less useless, no need to smile like an idiot" Gilbert stated as he watched the American's smile fade into a frown. "You're wearing your uniform and you definitely know how to handle a horse."
"Well, Feliks demanded that I wear my uniform," Alfred responds. "He's always going on about how style is important. He even told me to arrive in style… He reminds me of France sometimes."
"Feliks…" Prussia pauses briefly as if contemplating. He looks slightly confused for a brief second, and then his face quickly expresses disgust as sudden realization comes crashing through his mind. "Poland is here?"
"Yup! Do you know him? He never mentions you." Alfred asked, shooting Gilbert a questioning gaze. Gilbert, in response, merely gawked at the young nation.
"What are you, stupid? Of course I know that blonde moron and his Lithuanian lap dog." Gilbert's eye twitched as his annoyance from earlier began to resurface. "I just recently fought a war with that damn runt. Have you not studied history… or kept track of current events?"
To say the atmosphere turned sour was an understatement. Alfred was just about to flash his most dazling smile and say something unrelated (a proven effective way to smash any negative atmosphere) when he was interrupted by the sound of an approaching horseman.
"Oh my God! The asshole of Europe is here!" Poland shouts with a delighted smile on his face. He quickly dismounts and stands next to America. "How do you like my student? I'm like, a totally amazing instructor."
"I was half expecting you to be wearing a dress," Gilbert exclaims. "Where is your flunky? Off buying you an obscene amount of frivolous shoes?"
"Unfortunately he isn't," Poland pauses briefly, looking disappointed; "He's busy with the construction of the fortifications at West Point. I suggested he paint it pink… he said he'd like, think about it."
"Well, it has been totally unawesome to talk to you again," Prussia states as he pushes Poland away from America. He feels like he needs to save the young nation from being influenced by Poland's clear lack of awesome and grabs America's wrist to start dragging him away.
"Like, don't make me go all Grunwald on you!" Poland shouts as he grabs America's other hand; effectively stopping both Prussia and America from moving further away. America was forced to be used as human rope in Poland and Prussia's game of tug of war. He was surprised by how frightening, yet utterly hilarious both squabbling nations looked. Amidst the shouting of who would train America, and whether or not cavalry was superior to infantry, Prussia made a threatening comment involving a bayonet. Alfred, by this time, was clearly not enjoying the situation he found himself in, so he would do the one thing he knows will stop the ridiculous argument.
"Um… What's a bayonet?" Alfred asked as he watched both Poland and Prussia stop with their argument (as planned) and stare at him.
"Is he serious?" Prussia asks Poland with an exasperated expression. When Poland merely shrugged his shoulders, Prussia decided to explain to America that a bayonet was the long stabbing weapon placed at the end of a rifle.
"Oh! I've used that," Alfred excitedly explains as he flashes the two elder nations a smile. Prussia begins to look a little more hopeful, as if the young nation wasn't as hopeless as he seemed. If he's awesome enough to have used a bayonet before, then there was a chance that Poland hasn't influenced him in any irreversible way. "It's really great for roasting food with!"
"Oh, for the love of…" Prussia literally face palmed. He, having never relinquished his hold on America, stomps off with the blonde nation in tow. "That's it, you're coming with me. I'll turn you into a proper soldier."
America was hesitant to follow at first, half expecting Poland to object and start the whole argument again. When Poland didn't respond, America turned his head to see the green eyed blonde obsessing over the horses being stabled and looking incredibly happy.
'Well, at least they aren't fighting anymore,' Alfred thought to himself with a smile on his face.
"Wipe that smile off your face!" Prussia suddenly shouts as he stopped at the outskirts of the camp. America's smile falls as he is startled by the sudden outburst. The intense ruby gaze staring at him like he's worthless makes him entirely uncomfortable.
"I'll admit, Poland has taught you well, you're almost as good at prancing around on some pony as he is." Prussia says with a smirk. America feels a sudden shiver run down his spine as the Prussian shots him the most intense glare he has ever seen. "As a soldier, you are utterly worthless. You're a useless, inexperienced pile of shit unfit to bask in my awesomeness. I'm going to drag you through hell and back several times. You're going to hate me with all your being, but in the end, I'll break you. And when that happens, I'll remold you and shape you into a killing machine second only to me."
Alfred gulps as Prussia continues his 'motivational' speech. When Prussia finally finishes, he informs America that the rest of the night will be spent digging the proper latrines the camp clearly lacks and walks away towards his tent.
"What have I gotten myself into?"
Omake
"I don't think we should be doing this," Alfred stated as he was handed a pair of thigh-high boots with heels. "What if he wakes up?"
"Like, I put enough tranquilizers in his beer to knock out Russia, he's totally not waking up any time soon," Feliks replied as he began to place make-up on the sleeping Prussian's face. "He's going to look so awesome in the morning."
"Heh, yeah," Alfred agreed as he slips the shoes on Gilbert's feet. "How did you manage to get a Prussian military uniform with a skirt?"
"Oh, I like, made it," Feliks explained as he paused briefly from his task to admire the hand-made outfit the Prussian was now wearing. "Once I'm done, we'll put the wig on him… He doesn't look all that bad as a woman."
"You're right," Alfred agrees as he prepares the long haired, argent wig. "The world is funny. I finally get to meet new friends and it's the middle of a war."
"That's like, the world for you," Feliks shoots Alfred a small smile. "Well, I'm all done here."
Alfred hands the wig over to the Pole. He struggles to suppress a laugh as he sees 'My capital is Warsaw' plastered in bright red lettering on the Prussian's face. Once the finishing detail is put into place, the two step back to admire their work. They eventually head off to their own beds for the night, leaving behind a crossed dress nation.
A/N: I feel this didn't have enough Poland… or America. This is definitely more Prussia-centric than I had intended, I apologize for that.
The Battle of Grunwald: Poland-Lithuania defeated the Teutonic Knights.
Passage is a dressage movement in competitive Equestrianism, it's also taught in Classical Dressage, which is closely related to warhorse training. Passage is a difficult movement and looks like the horse is trotting in slow motion. In most warhorse training traditions, the rider primarily directs the horse with their legs and weight. You need the hands free to use a weapon.
Baron von Steuben and Count Pułaski were both briefly stationed at Valley Forge during the winter of 1777/78. Count Pułaski mostly spent the winter in Trenton reforming the cavalry.