Chapter 11: Never Piss off a Prussian
(Why you should never piss off the son of a Prussian warlord. Sorry I did it again. I broke up the chapter. Sorry guys.)
"The Prince will come with me, da?" Ivan grinned.
Gilbert wasn't listening anymore. He had had an awesome idea and when a Prussian has an awesome idea you know troubles about to start.
The Russian bastard is a possessive creep, he realized. Alfred was currently laying on top of him in a very compromising position, neither one able to move because of the spear tips pressing into their napes.
Gilbert grinned. It was time for phase one of his awesome plan.
Conjuring up images of a certain Hungarian Princess with a busty chest and cream-colored thighs, he furthered the fantasy by putting her in a maid outfit with sexy, pink stockings. And lace, oh yes, couldn't forget that. Too good, he thought. His whole body got warm and his awesome member stirred.
Phase two began as soon as Ivan finished gloating and began to step forward. Gilbert let out a moan and uttered in a sultry voice, "Oooh ~ Majesty! Stop squirming and pressing your cock into me like that."
He would never have talked to Matthew like that, but eh, Alfred was well, Alfred.
"Say what?" Alfred choked, trying to get off Gilbert, but stuck by the spears.
"Don't be shy," Gilbert said, leering over his shoulder at Alfred's stunned blue eyes. Meanwhile in his mine, Big tits! Big tits! Think of those Hungarian knockers! ran on repeat, keeping his face flush and his voice husky. "It's just like old times."
Alfred gaped at him, his eyes all but screaming, Are you out of your damn mind? Do you want to die? "W-what are you talking about?" His blue eyes flickered in Ivan's direction and whatever he saw made them go wide.
The temperature had dropped by several degrees and Gilbert could feel waves of cold rage emanating from the Russian Prince.
"H-He's lying!" Alfred protested.
"Oh God, you're so hung," Gilbert panted. "It's making me so hard. Make me scream like you used to ~!" Bit tits! Big tits! Had to focus on that to keep himself horny.
As expected the spears fell away as whatever Alfred was seeing was also turning the guards sheet white. The minute they were gone, Alfred leapt off Gilbert, insisting, "It's not true! Now Ivan."
While he was trying to calm down the murderous aura radiating from Ivan toward Gilbert, Gilbert took his opportunity and hopped to his feet, swiping a spear out a guard's hand. It was the one who'd drawn his blood.
Spinning around, he smashed the flat of the blade hard into that guard's neck sending him crashing into another guard. Before they could register they were on the floor, the other guard's torch thrown against the wall and snuffed out, Gilbert jabbed the butt end of the spear into the guard who'd hurt him's groin and then whacked it into the other guard's face, breaking his nose.
Satisfied they weren't getting up for a little while, he turned around, leveling the spear at a stunned Raivis, that taller guy, and another guard holding a torch. Now Gilbert saw what had frightened everyone. Ivan's metal pipe was out and if he had seemed on the brink of madness before, now he looked snapped.
"Majesty!" Gilbert hissed, groaning inside that Alfred had not used this chance to run away. When it finally dawned on Alfred to bolt, Ivan, quick as a snake, grabbed him by the scruff, dragging him back and pressing the pipe at Alfred's tender throat.
That idiot, Gilbert mentally sighed.
Even worse, Alfred struggled in all the wrong ways. If it had been Gilbert he would have punched, bitten, and kicked at the Russian for drawing him so close, but Alfred was not a trained warrior. Sure he had the instincts that most wild men of the USA seemed to possess, but not the understanding of certain actions. Instead, Alfred fought to get away, rather than force his attacker to want to get away from him.
"Stop or I start taking body parts," Ivan warned, caressing the pipe against Alfred's throat and cheek. Alfred stopped.
"Release him!" Gilbert demanded. "He is a sovereign of this kingdom and you have no right to harm him."
"You? A mere Captain of the Guard dare to give me orders?" Ivan said, giggling. "Do not lecture me Prussian worm! I have every right. He is under my subjugation. He left without permission and I have to punish him for breaking the rules!"
Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but Ivan's gloved hand clamped over it, muffling his words. From the growing blood stain on the glove, Gilbert was sure that was the hand Alfred had injured.
"You broke them first! You throttled my majesty. Endangered his life and I cannot allow you take to him back," Gilbert stated. He heard movement behind him. One of the guards was trying to sneak up, but he wouldn't have it. He shoved the spear backward, connecting with something soft. Whatever he struck, knocked the wind out of the guard, who crumpled behind him with a "oof". That'll teach him, Gilbert thought, smirking.
"He is mine!" Ivan insisted. "I only wish to discuss what happened with him. You will back off Prussian tick if you know what is good for you and your precious Canada!"
Alfred frowned. Gilbert on the other hand, threw his head back, laughing, "Yours? He's yours? What a fucking joke! Are all Russian nobles this fucking retarded?"
Ivan's eyes could have bored holes through metal. His hand that held the pipe, clenched tightly around it. His guards seemed terrified, stuck between Gilbert and their own Master.
"You are asking for an early de- Agh!" Alfred bit into the hand holding his mouth and though Ivan released his grip on the boy's mouth, he didn't let go, settling the hand on his throat.
Ivan looks... hurt? Gilbert couldn't help but blink at that. Not hurt as in physically, but emotionally hurt. Like an owner bitten by their favorite pet. Just seeing that expression made Gilbert feel queasy.
"Enough!" Alfred cried, his eyes saying to Gilbert, He'll kill you! Gilbert snorted at that. He wasn't afraid of a fucking Russian. "Ivan, Snowflake," Alfred began in a sweet tone as he pressed closer to the Russian. Snowflake? Did he just call him snowflake? Gilbert gaped in his head, unable to believe what his ears were hearing. This shit was getting weirder by the second. "Please stop. There's no need for this."
The Russian's body and face visibly softened as he met Alfred's gaze, lowering the pipe from Alfred's throat, he used his other hand to caress the boy's cheek and smooth his hair lovingly.
Gilbert shuddered inwardly at the intimacy of it all. How Alfred could stand being fondled by that psycho was beyond him. He must have a soft spot for sadistic bastards? He thought.
Alfred reached up, cupping Ivan's chin, he said in a soothing voice, "Please end this. For me?"
"All right, sunflower," Ivan said, the bloodlust all but disappeared from his eyes. For a minute, he leaned forward like he wanted to kiss Alfred right there, in front of everyone, but decided against it. Which was good, because bile was already rising up Gilbert's throat and anymore of this scene would definitely make him retch.
Alfred is one tough soul to be able to put with that, Gilbert thought. I'd be coughing up blood if I were being touched by that Russian disease.
"Prince, I can take them! There's no need for you to surrender yourself!" Gilbert said, pressing forward. Raivis, that taller guy with glasses, and the other Russian guard, snapped to their senses at this and put their spears back to ready.
"There are four of them," Alfred said, his eyes warning Gilbert to back off. Gilbert resented that he thought Gilbert so weak.
"I know, it's unfair," Gilbert agreed, finishing with a grin, "For them."
Ivan clearly hated his Alfred even talking to Gilbert. What a control freak? He thought as Ivan tried to turn Alfred's attention back to himself.
"What will it be, my Prince?" Ivan asked. "Will you come with me willingly or do I have to drag you and dispatch this fly?"
"Try it bastard!" Gilbert shouted.
"I-I'll go," Alfred said, his voice bitter, but determined as he focused on the wall in front of him. Ivan smiled that creepy innocent way, relaxing, he spared a triumphant glance at Gilbert.
"There you see. This whole matter was unnecessary," Ivan cooed, kissing Alfred's forehead. That was it. Gilbert almost lost last night's meal. He gagged a little, just barely keeping it down. Ivan threw a scowl at him. Alfred just raised an eyebrow, but quickly restored his serene expression when those violet eyes were back on him.
"Promise me you will spare the captain," Alfred urged.
"Spare? Are you fucking joking?" Gilbert guffawed, adding, "Your majesty. I can take them!"
Ivan's eyes narrowed, his face darkening, as he asked, "And why are you so concerned with his welfare?"
"He's the Captain of the Guard. Who wouldn't be concerned with their soldiers' welfare?"
Ivan tilted his head in confusion and it was obvious to everyone, including Alfred, that that was a dumb question to ask the Russian. Nevertheless, the response satisfied the King of Bastards who nodded and said, "Of course, my sunflower," then he whispered something in Alfred's ear that was too low for Gilbert to hear. He didn't really want to know because whatever it was made Alfred color.
"Let us return," Ivan said, turning around, he guided Alfred away. Alfred shot Gilbert a look over his shoulder that spoke volumes, Tell What's-His-Face everything. I'll deal with this creep on my own. I'm the hero after all!
Gilbert growled in his throat and shook his head as the guards followed behind Ivan, keeping their spears pointed at Gilbert.
"Just gonna leave your men?" Gilbert called, nodding his head toward the guards behind him. Raivis and the taller guy appeared like they wanted to help, but didn't dare defy Ivan. "Okay, well I'll take real good care of them then ~," he yelled sweetly, watching them disappear.
As he faced the two, one was trying to push himself away, clutching his broken nose, staring wide-eyed at Gilbert who grinned and in a very cold voice said, "Now how about I show you guys a little Prussian hospitality!"
The conscious guard's eyes widened.
"No, I won't kill you," Gilbert said, chuckling. "That would be too quick."
And after Gilbert finished making them pay for their intrusion, then he would check on his awesome men, and then, finally, he would deal with how excited his fantasy about the Hungarian Princess in lace stockings had left him.
(End of Chapter 11. The next chapter covers what Peter knows.)