A/N: So only eight stories this time, shoot me XDDD But I hope the topics will be enough to make up for it. No Valentine's Day fluff cause I'm a troll like that.

BE WARNED: Lemons. Possibly bad/suckish (pun intended) lemons because it's my first time. If you don't like lemons then just skip Restraint and read on.

I've finally had to up the rating for this story. I feel oddly accomplished now ;w;

Restraint

"Untie me this instant."

Gilbert smirked as he listened to the imperious command, sitting back so he could look down upon the eyes that were glaring up at him. For once they had no effect. "Calm down Fritz," he said playfully. "We haven't even started yet." He chuckled outright as Fritz jerked against his bonds and they held tight. "I didn't know that you were that excited~ I wouldn't waste all of your energy though, I tied them pretty good."

Fritz sighed in irritation. "Enough," he said, ignoring Gilbert's advice and pulling against the ropes that held him. He couldn't believe that he had been so oblivious that he hadn't noticed Gilbert tying him to the bed until he woke up to see Gilbert binding his wrists together. This was the last time he was falling asleep before him.

To his annoyance, Gilbert looked amused by his reaction. "Don't be like that," he said, reaching out and running his fingers along the ropes that held his wrists together and wrapped around the bedposts. "I didn't go through all of the trouble of getting this and then trying not to wake you up just for you to say no. But don't worry, schaztchen, I'll get you to like this."

He opened his mouth to argue but Prussia quickly leaned down and bit his neck, turning his words into a sharp gasp. "None of that," the nation said, pressing a quick kiss against the mark that would soon form. "You're stuck here and you aren't going anywhere until I decide to let you go."

"What do you plan to do?" Frederick asked, feeling his gut twist with unease. He tried to ignore the flush that was creeping up his neck.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure yet," Gilbert said, sliding his palms along Frederick's exposed sides, feeling him shiver at the touch. "But I guarantee that you will be screaming my name before we're done." The purr of his voice and the way he punctuated the end of his sentence with a slow lick sent a spear of desire right through Frederick's body, despite all of his objections against it. He was supposed to be hating this! And that was true to an extent, he was rather angered by his helplessness and inability to move, but a part of his mind that was growing louder with each second was crying out for more. The way Gilbert was pressing almost his entire body against him and rubbing his sensitive sides and chest sent delightful tingles racing across his skin. Out of pure habit he tried to pull his leg closer and growled in frustration when it too refused to move. God this was frustrating, not being able to move or touch him back. "Keep moving like that," Gilbert murmured distractedly as he thrashed his entire body in an attempt to get free. "It feels great."

Immediately, Frederick stopped, his cheeks burning. Gilbert smiled and continued as if nothing had happened, kissing his neck and around his collar, running his hands up and down his body. He was being unusually gentle tonight. Most of the time he was rough and demanding, and the sudden change caught the king completely by surprise. As if to directly contradict his thoughts, Gilbert bit down on him and started to suck, hard. A moan tore its way out of his throat and he tried to move and put his hands on Gilbert's head to press him closer, but they just twitched uselessly in the ropes, making him groan again. Eventually Gilbert let go with a wet pop and licked his lips, eager for more of those noises that his lover made. He could feel the heart beneath him racing madly, in time with his own. He went to work again, biting that little spot where the neck joined the shoulder and made Frederick twist helplessly under him. "Hold still Fritz, honestly," he grumbled out. He grasped him by the hips and used his weight to pin him to the bed.

Fritz bit his lip to stop the noises that were trying to break free. It felt as if his blood was roaring in his veins, and his skin was on fire. He had no idea why the hell he was starting to enjoy this, but heaven help him he was. Gilbert had a way of getting him aroused even when he had no desire to do anything related to sex, and he both hated and loved him for it at the same time. This was a whole different game however, being trussed up and helpless, but the way he was losing control and being at the mercy of someone else was strangely… exciting. He was beginning to get an idea of why Gilbert liked being held down so much. Instead of protesting he was now turning his head to one side so his neck was brazenly displayed. The nation had one a victory already.

And he knew that too. "That's more like it," Prussia said, rewarding him with a gentle nibble along the vein in his neck that sent blood rushing to his dick. "Don't you trust me, schatzi?" Gilbert asked playfully, tilting his head to one side

"No," Frederick answered immediately, but the curl of his lips betrayed his words. Now what sort of a question was that? He trusted Gilbert with his life. He knew that his love would never do anything to hurt him.

Prussia laughed against him, knowing his lover's game. He didn't bother to reply and scraped his nails down Frederick's torso, stopping right by his navel and tracing gentle circles into his skin. Frederick arched into the touch, feeling Gilbert's chest press against his own for a brief moment, but then he was pushed back down with firm hands holding him in place. Then they trailed lower, slipping off of him, but he got the message and forced himself to keep still. "See?" Gilbert said as he sat back fully, his hands the only point of contact between them now. "I told you that you would like this." He gave a pointed look at his erection, but other than that he ignored it.

They stayed like that for a few moments, Gilbert's thumbs gently stroking over his hipbones. Fritz could feel Gilbert watching him, those hungry eyes roving over every inch of him like a wolf eyeing a tasty meal. A shiver of anticipation went through him and he strained at the hands. "Gilbert," he murmured, his voice thick with need.

"Yes, love?" Gilbert asked, drawing his fingers away until only the very tips touched him.

The lack of contact was about to drive him mad. "Please—"

"No."

The harsh rebuttal threw him off. "W-What?" he stammered, which was the only coherent word he could think of through the spinning of the room and the blood pounding in his skull.

"Speak to me in German," Gilbert ordered, taking his hands away completely. "German only from this moment on, or else you won't get anything tonight."

He groaned in annoyance. Gilbert had done this to him before, making him speak that vulgar language while they were in bed. "No," he said, trying to wriggle closer and swearing heatedly when Gilbert moved out of his reach. "That's ridiculous! Why should I have to speak German? You can understand me just f—where are you going?" Prussia started to get up. "No wait, stop!" He made a great show of crawling over to the edge of the bed and sliding his feet onto the floor. "Gilbert please, no, no! Nein!"

Almost immediately the kingdom paused. "What was that, schatzi?" he asked, drawing his feet back up and turning around. The smile on his face was sharp and gloating, but Frederick didn't care.

"Nein," the king repeated, twitching his hands again and jerking his hips into the air uselessly. "Bitte."

Gilbert started to crawl back over. "Please what?" he asked, reaching out and gently running his fingers along an ankle.

Frederick cried out and nearly choked on his words. Tremors wracked his body and his groans turned into desperate whimpers. Oh God, his ankles were so sensitive, and that teasing touch was driving whatever sanity and protests he had left out through the proverbial window. "Mehr!" he managed to gasp out, letting the arch of his body beg for more. "Bitte Gilbert, mehr!"

Prussia scooted closer, once again seated himself between Frederick's spread legs. His hands went up, grazing his calves, tickling the back of his knees and then slowly stroking the inside of his thighs. Prussia listened as Fritz's vocalizations became louder and more heated, pleas in German spilling out of his mouth as if he had never spoken any other language in his life. He was fighting down his own shaking, trying not to let Fritz see how affected he was. But that was nigh impossible, a man would have to be dead to not react to all of the soft moans and whimpers that Fritz had made. Was still making. "Fritz," he said, his voice rough and ragged from his own onslaught of lust. He slid back up his body, keeping his hand on his thighs but gently nipping at the rest of him. "Tell me what you want."

He wanted to be untied. But Fritz knew that Gilbert wouldn't do that, it wasn't part of the game after all. He sighed mentally and forced himself to relax and just accept the situation. He cast about his mind frantically, recalling half-forgotten words and grammar lessons that Gilbert had been trying to get him to learn. "Ich will daß du mich berührst," he panted out finally, letting all of his raw want seep into his voice.

Prussia chuckled low in his throat, a sensual noise that seemed to reach out and caress him just like his hands had just done. "Good answer," he replied, giving Fritz a trademark smirk before he took one of his nipples in his mouth. He delighted in the gasp that filled the room and started to trace wide circles with the tip of his tongue, carefully avoiding the sensitive bud. One of his hands reached up to play with the other one, mirroring the motions of his tongue and letting his nails tickle his lover ever so slightly. He waited until Fritz's breathing became harsher and a pleading "Gilbert," reached his ears, and then he bit down and started to suck. A shuddering cry came from Frederick at the sudden sensations and he bucked up again, grinding their bodies together for a moment. Prussia growled and moved to the other nub, licking all the way across his chest and leaving random bites along the way.

Fritz threw his head back and groaned, gnashing his teeth in frustration. His skin felt as if it was about to crawl right off of him and it was so wonderful, he wanted it to go on forever, but at the same time he wanted more. Other parts of his body screamed for the attention that Gilbert didn't seem willing to give. "Gilbert, bitte, ich brauche dich," he said, finally giving in and begging. Oh how he wanted to touch him back. This wasn't fair! He heard a laugh and, "Who said this was supposed to be fair?" He didn't realize that he had been speaking out loud.

He twitched involuntarily as Gilbert bit down on his nipple, not enough to make him bleed but more than enough to send a rush of heat coiling in his belly. His member twitched and for a moment he tensed, but it wasn't near enough to make him come. "Hör auf mich nur scharf zu machen und fick mich endlich," he snapped out, repeating something that Gilbert had said to him on many occasions. Damn the ropes and the foreplay, he wanted sex, now.

Gilbert grinned and raised his head, giving the nub one last suck before he did. "Why, but it's such a fun game," he said, inching closer. On an impulse he bent down and licked the hollow of his throat, lapping at the sweat that had gathered there. In a moment he was overwhelmed by the unique scent and taste of his king, which set all of his nerves tingling with excitement. He lingered for a moment, breathing in the heady scent that always came off of him whenever they had sex and made the albino just want to pick his king up and pound him into the headboard until it broke. He couldn't hide his trembling anymore but Fritz seemed too far gone to even notice or really care. Despite his words from earlier, Prussia frowned to himself as he felt the almost spasmodic twitching beneath him and the needy, desperate whimpers coming from his lover. Maybe he had teased him too much.

Or maybe not. He kissed his throat and made his return journey back down, running his hands over every ticklish spot that he knew, stroking and teasing still. He seated himself between Frederick's legs and took his time in adjusting his position, holding off as long as possible so Fritz could get even more hot as he was forced to wait. Gilbert licked his lips and gazed at his prize for a few long moments, then without any warning at all he leaned in and gave his cock a long, hard lick and oh, he loved how Fritz jumped at that, letting out a surprised shout. He threw an arm over Fritz's hips to pin him in place and licked again, slowly dragging his tongue along the underside of his length, following the thick vein pulsing underneath the skin. Fritz gasped even more at that and had to turn his face into his arm so he could muffle his cries. Gilbert then paused for the barest moment, eyes flicking upward, his mouth inches away from the head and his hot breath washing over it. He could feel Fritz tense in anticipation, and he waited for a moment longer before he took the head of his cock in his mouth and started to swirl his tongue around it.

"Oh Gott, Gilbert, ja," Fritz moaned, resisting the urge to thrust into that hot, wet mouth. He didn't care that he was now groaning and making all sorts of begging noises, submitting completely, he wanted Gilbert to make him forget everything except what was happening right now. "Ah! Ja Gilbert…" he went on, his vocabulary reduced to a mere handful of words.

Gilbert paid him no heed at the moment, although that devastatingly sexy voice was making all of his blood rush into his own arousal, which was aching for attention. He pressed against the bed, rubbing the sheets and trying to keep some semblance of self-control, and took his king deeper into his mouth. He loved the feel of his hot, hard flesh against his tongue and the taste of the precum that leaked out to goad him on. He went deeper, sliding down until he felt the tip of his cock prodding his throat, then he came back up and plunged back down, swirling his tongue everywhere that it could reach and settling into a fast rhythm. He repeated the wild cycle over and over again, licking and sucking and occasionally pumping with his hands until he had Frederick writhing underneath him in ecstasy. Soon he felt the muscles underneath him tense all at once and he immediately backed off, leaving Fritz to whine pitifully as he bucked into the suddenly cold air.

"Gilbert!" Fritz gasped, tears of frustration gathering in his eyes. "Gilbert!"

Gilbert rubbed his cheek along his pelvis, mere inches away from his length."Tha's m' name," he singsonged, his voice wavering slightly. "Don't wear it out." His words may have been playfully lighthearted, but his expression was deathly serious and he had to mouth down Fritz's pelvis and thighs to keep himself distracted.

A muffled keen slipped out of Frederick and nearly made the nation come on the spot. He was glad that he had sent the servants away, because they were both being unusually loud tonight. "Nein! Bitte hör nicht auf!" Fritz said, the raw need in his voice destroying all of his anger. "Gilbert, ich schwöre bei Gott wenn du aufhörst, dann werde ich—"

"You'll what?" Prussia interrupted, giving him a challenging look. The expression was wiped from his face when Fritz turned to look at him and oh gods his eyes were heated. They were always so beautiful, now his dilated pupils had turned them nearly black. For a moment he was completely frozen, then he turned and reached over to the nightstand, fumbling around until he found the bottle that he had placed there earlier. He could feel Fritz's eyes on him as he uncorked it and spread a liberal amount of oil onto his fingers, and the soft smell of almonds became a partner to the other scents in the room. The nation met his king's gaze again and gave him a quick smirk before he slipped two of his fingers inside that awaiting ring of muscle. He felt Fritz clench automatically at the sudden intrusion, but a moment later he relaxed. Gilbert plunged his fingers in deeper, stretching and scissoring the smooth walls, pumping in just the right motions that he knew would soon turn Fritz into a puppet in his hands. He licked the base of his cock right as he added a third finger, although he made sure to carefully avoid that one little spot as he continued to stretch him.

Frederick was less than happy and he pulled his legs uselessly against the ropes as if hoping that they might magically break. There were certain times when he really wanted to hit his lover, but a part of him knew that no matter what, Gilbert would make it all worth his while in the end. He could barely even dredge up his anger now, lost in the blissful sensations that Gilbert's fingers and tongue were wringing from his body. He leaned back and shut his eyes, trying to absorb every single touch and stroke that was building upon that aching need for release inside him.

Gilbert noticed Fritz's silence and guessed at what he was trying to do. "Hah, look at this," the albino said, a little breathless himself. Watching his gorgeous little king completely lose himself in his pleasure was one of the most delicious things he had ever seen in his entire life. He balanced himself on an elbow and moved upwards, kissing his way up to Fritz's chest and tasting him with laps of his tongue. "I'm about to make you come using nothing but my fingers," he breathed into his neck, still the motions of his fingers as he did. "How many of your other lovers were this awesome?" It wasn't a question that needed an answer and Gilbert didn't want one. The words barely had time to register in Fritz's head before Gilbert finally pushed his finger in as far as they would go and curled them, rubbing them right over his prostate.

Beneath him, Frederick jumped as if he had been shocked. "Genau da, ja genau da!" he cried out, squeezing his muscles and trying to take him in deeper. Yes, yes, yes he was finally getting what he wanted! He wished that Gilbert would keep touching that spot forever, but at the same time he was so desperate for some sort of relief that his whole body was shaking. He could barely think through the haze of pleasure and his head lolled to one side, prompting Gilbert to suck on him again and add to the love bites that had already been put there from earlier. "Ja, ja Gilbert—halt, was machst du?" He felt Gilbert drawing away from him again, not quite slipping out of him but swirling his fingers in useless motions against his walls.

Gilbert laughed when he heard the frustrated noise rip its way out of Frederick's throat. It might have turned into a scream if he hadn't cut it off with a kiss. He loved teasing Frederick like this, slowly getting him to break down until he was an incoherent hot mess below him. It was a treat, knowing that Fritz would have never in a hundred years let anyone else do this to him; it was Gilbert's privilege, and his alone. He was yanked out of his thoughts by teeth biting into his shoulder and he was suddenly aware of Fritz pressed against him, straining at his bonds in order to get to him. Fritz turned his head and bit down again, right over that special spot where his shoulder met his neck and drove him absolutely wild when it was touched. A jolt of adrenaline pounded through him and went straight to his cock and a primal growl formed in his throat. He should have known that getting too close to Fritz was a bad idea but his could feel his teeth biting right into his skin and the rush of wonderful pain made him forget everything else around him. Again he pushed in his fingers and focused his attention entirely on his prostate, overwhelming Fritz with touches that sent him into mewling convulsions that made him let go and fall back onto the bed, his body arching and twitching with every flick of his fingers.

"Hör nicht auf," Fritz somehow managed to pant out, burying his face into his arm once more. He pulled at the ropes again. "Lass mich frei Gilbert, bitte!" He thrashed as Gilbert curled his digits and sent all three of them stroking down that sweet spot at the same time. "Lass mich frei!" he cried out again, seeing black spots in his vision. Something inside of him finally snapped. "Lass mich frei! Lass mich frei! Lass mich frei! Lass mich frei!" His voice rose until he was nearly shouting, repeating the words over and over again as if they were the only things he knew how to say.

Gilbert had had enough as well. He drew out of Fritz, ignoring his yell as he did, and once more reached for the nightstand. He knocked the bottle of oil over in his haste to get to his knife; he had planned to cut Fritz loose after they were done, but goddammit he couldn't resist a single thing Fritz said when he screamed at him in that pleading, almost mindless tone that told him that he was about to completely lose it. His fingers clasped around the handle and he brought it up and started cutting, his movements so haphazard that it was pure luck that he didn't slice through Fritz's wrists as well. Almost as soon as they were gone Fritz lunged for him, one hand grasping him by the back of his head and dragging him into a hot, messy kiss while the other scraped down his back and dug it nails into his flesh as if relishing in their solidity. The rest of his body was pulled forcefully down right as Fritz gave another thrust up. He groaned at the friction of their bodies rubbing together and he heard Fritz echoing him and soon they were rutting against each other like two animals, grinding and moaning and touching every part of their bodies they could reach.

It didn't take long before Fritz tensed again and he nearly sobbed in relief as he came apart, orgasm ripping through him as he gave a final thrust upwards. He couldn't even utter Gilbert's name in his joy and gave a wordless cry as he came against him, his hands clutching at Gilbert so tightly that his skin broke. His back arched harshly and he felt a hot gush as he spilled his essence against Gilbert, a few drops landing on himself as well. His thrusting was replaced with erratic tremors and convulsing, and after a few moments he slid away bonelessly, falling back into the sheets in a daze. Gilbert still wasn't quite done yet and reached down to stroke himself, biting into Fritz's shoulder as he added his own moans to the last of his ruler's. After a few hard pumps his body rippled in one long shudder and his vision flashed white. Suddenly the one hand he was using to support himself could no longer hold him and he collapsed ungracefully on top of Frederick, clawing at him like Frederick had done moments before and muffling his groans in his skin.

The sudden that followed seemed contrarily loud, the only sounds present being the frantic panting of both of them as they tried to regain some form of coherency. A minute or so passed and Gilbert was the first to raise his head. He could still feel Fritz shivering under him, although whether that was from the heat leaving his body or the aftershocks was questionable. One of Fritz's legs moved, but it was caught.

Fritz raised his arm a little so that he could look at Gilbert. Gilbert could tell from his eyes that he hadn't quite returned to earth yet, but he was at least partially there. "My feet," Fritz whispered, his words both a request and a plea.

The kingdom nodded and reluctantly pushed himself back up. His arms felt limp and useless but somehow they still worked. He looked at the nightstand, then realized that it wasn't there. Shit, he had probably dropped it sometime after he had gotten Fritz free. He pawed through the bed and found it behind Fritz's pillow, and then he crawled to the foot of the bed so he could cut the rest of the ropes that held Fritz in place. He noticed with no small amount of satisfaction that the skin around Frederick's ankles had been rubbed nearly raw and bruises were already starting to form, and the same went for his wrists.

Actually, Fritz was bruised in a lot of places to tell the truth. There were marks all along his thighs, chest, and neck, angry little spots of color that made him look like the victim of some strange sickness. Prussia snickered, but did not say anything as he crawled back over.

Frederick stirred a little and slid his arms around him, sluggishly pulling him closer. Well, Gilbert had half-expected him to go off on some tirade about the teasing and tying up, but this worked just fine as well. He was surprised because usually Fritz tried to clean himself off as soon as he was able, an odd hygienic streak that he had, but he had made no inclination to do so and seemed more content with hugging. Gilbert accepted the invitation graciously, sinking into the warm embrace and pillowing his head on a shoulder. "So," he said, his voice drowsy and rough. "You like my ideas yet?"

There was a pause, and then he saw Fritz shake his head no. Vigorously. But at the same time he tried to turn away so that the smile on his lips would not be seen. "Liar," Prussia said, nudging him on the side. The reply he got was a quiet laugh. "Good gods, why can't you simply accept the fact that you liked it?"

"It amuses me to watch you get annoyed," Fritz answered in a voice that was hoarse from shouting. "Besides, I'm not particularly pleased with this." He held up his hand in the faint light, displaying the marks on his wrist. True, he wasn't very happy about those, but at the moment he was still too busy floating on his private little cloud of bliss to summon any proper anger at the moment.

Gilbert took his arm and brought it closer, gently brushing his lips against the bruises, making them tingle. "You still love me though," he said, placing the arm back down. It was not a question.

Frederick decided to answer it anyway. "Yes, I do. Heaven knows why."

"Cause I'm that awesome," Gilbert said with a grin, leaning close to kiss him. It was a lazy, slow kiss that had Fritz tightening his grip around him almost possessively. When they broke apart Gilbert nuzzled his face against Fritz's and whispered in his ear, "Hey, next time will be just as fun. I'll even let you tie me up if you want."

Fritz grunted noncommittally, trying his best to sound uninterested.

Prussia knew his king better though. A huge smile came over his face and he settled back into Fritz's arms, his mind racing and already planning out a next time. After all, Fritz may not have said yes, but he didn't say no to the idea either.

Submission

Even after all of the years that they had known each other, Frederick was still finding things out about his love that would surprise him. For example, he knew full well how much Prussia valued his dignity and his pride. Beaten, bruised, and broken, he would cling to it doggedly with the same amount of fervor of a condemned man clinging to a last hope of redemption. Even at Kunersdorf, when he had been trapped under Russia's boot at the large man's sword had been inches away from his throat, he spat out curses and insults through the blood and screams. Even when every last bit of his power and security had been stripped away from him, Gilbert still held onto his pride and refused to be a prisoner underneath a higher power.

So it was almost frightening to see how easily all of that got thrown away for his king. All it took were a few touches and sweet words whispered in his ear and he would practically melt in Frederick's hands, willing to trust him with his body and his pride. Frederick knew it was completely voluntary too, that Gilbert was doing it on purpose.

His willingness confused him at first, but he quickly learned to like it. Not that Gilbert was subservient or anything remotely related, he was rough and demanding as ever, but sometimes the way he would submit utterly to Frederick's demands instead of his normal resistance was both puzzling and exciting to the monarch. He was supposed to be the servant of the state, but he couldn't help but love how his state bended so easily to his will, literally and figuratively. It was a gift, one just for him, and it was to be kept and prized. After all, trust was a hard thing to win, and an even harder thing to get back once it had been broken. So, he gave the albino nearly everything that he wanted, but only if Gilbert had done the same to him first.

The question was though, why?

It surfaced in his mind at unexpected intervals, like right now. He had snuck up behind his nation and surprised him, wrapping his arms around him and pressing a quick kiss under his ear. He had been feeling unusually hyper and joyous today, he knew the absolute perfect way to work all of that excess energy off and increase his happiness by tenfold. Like so many times before, he simply needed to start touching him through his clothing, massaging his hips and nibbling on his neck and Prussia turned to butter in his hands, soft and boneless and hungry for more.

Why? He suddenly thought as he was in the middle of unbuttoning Gilbert's shirt, which he was managing quite well even though he was still behind him. Why in the world was Prussia letting him do this? Usually a session with him consisted of a battle of sorts, trying to dominate the other before one of them eventually gave up. This immediate compliance was bizarre, to say the least.

Gilbert felt his hands pause and he squirmed a little in anticipation. "Hey," he said, reaching up to touch his face. "I don't know what game you're playing, but I'm getting rather impatient here." Sure it was the middle of the day, but that had never stopped them before. Besides, it was near noon and they had about an hour of free time before getting back to work.

Frederick smirked at his words. "Forgive me," he said, his hands returning to what they were doing. "My thoughts were wandering."

"About?" Gilbert asked, turning around so his job was easier. His own hands tugged at Frederick's cravat, slipping it off and exposing the top buttons of his jacket.

Frederick pressed himself closer, nudging Gilbert's legs apart with his thigh and kissing his neck, slowly dragging his teeth on the sensitive skin. "About why you're so submissive sometimes," he whispered, his breath ghosting over him. "I've never seen you yield to anyone before, not even my father and lord knows the bastard just beat everything around him into surrendering. So why me?" The last of his buttons came free, exposing Gilbert's lightly muscled torso, which always sent a small sting of jealousy into his monarch. His hands slipped into his shirt and splayed along the lean plans of his back, gently pulling him closer until there was hardly a breath of space between them. "What makes me so special?"

His tone sounded more rhetorical than honestly questioning, and only a moment later Frederick starting kissing him again, starting at his neck and traveling around his clavicle before coming back up to his lips. It was distracting in the extreme, but Fritz had gotten him thinking as well. Gilbert had never really pondered over it before, he just did it because it felt right. But that was one of the major differences between them he supposed, Fritz was always the logical thinker and Gilbert was the one who followed his gut and did things on an impulse.

The albino's hands started to roam along with his thoughts. Even when he was busy kissing, he was still pretty good at getting someone's clothes off, and his eager fingers soon pried away the irritating waistcoat and shirt, leaving him to explore his king's bare flesh in the fullest. He squeezed his thighs tightly around Fritz's leg, startling a gasp out of him. "Isn't this what you're supposed to do?" He asked, tugging the now-useless clothes off of Frederick's body. "When you love someone, you trust them. And when you trust them, they're allowed to do pretty much anything they want to you."

Frederick paused again, struck by the words. Gilbert was never so… direct, about his feelings. It was only in the throes of passion that he could even get him to say something that remotely sounded like those last few sentences. "And do you trust me?" he asked, kissing him again. He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it out loud.

Gilbert chortled, his chest heaving under Frederick's hands. "Yeah, I do," he said lightly, as if it were no big deal, but the way his lips curled into a small smile said otherwise. He slid his fingers around Fritz waist, toying with the line of his breeches. "Now," he whispered in a much lower tone, "are you going to do anything or am I going to have to do it for you?"

His eagerness made Fritz laugh, and the monarch merely tugged the rest of his clothes off as a reply.

Gilbert would have had them fuck on the desk, since that happened to be the nearest surface other than the floor, but Fritz was having none of it and dragged the albino to the couch instead. He put up only a minor struggle which ceased completely once Fritz had pushed him onto the couch and climbed on top of him, pinning him down. He really did love how Gilbert simply leaned back and let him do what he wanted, even though his hands were busy stripping away the last vestiges of their clothes. How many of Prussia's enemies would have loved to see this? The brash and arrogant kingdom submitting to a mere human; Fritz knew that Prussia could have easily thrown him off and attacked him and he wouldn't be able to do a thing about it, but he didn't. Gilbert just leaned into his touches and moaned and purred and occasionally begged, knowing that Frederick loved it. He knew that Frederick loved it when he would tangle his fingers in his long hair and pull him closer, even though that messed up his carefully placed curls and although Fritz would complain about it later he knew that Fritz didn't regret it. Frederick loved it when he would be inside of his lover and suddenly Gilbert would wrap his arms and legs around him and pull him closer, pressing him in so deeply that it seemed as if he were a part of his nation instead of an entirely separate person.

How strange, and yet how wonderful, to have the immortal man's absolute trust and love. It was like a drug.

And when they both reached their climax that was the sweetest taste of all. For one moment there were no barriers or titles to them at all. There was no king and no country, no roles of who was on top or bottom, there were just two people who loved each other and letting it show. Afterwards Gilbert was used as a pillow for a short while, and the soldier would laugh and hold Fritz close, once again submitting to his ruler's demands for a little bit of cuddling. Not that he minded in the least bit, for despite all of his coarse and rough manners Prussia could actually be quite a soft person, provided that he was in the right mood. And if Frederick wanted to stroke his hair and murmur sweet nothings into his ear that would have had the whole world picking their jaws up off the floor, Gilbert let him because that was them. If Fritz wanted to stay a little afterwards and distract him with the flute and poetry, Gilbert would also let him because that was also them.

And if a few nights afterwards Prussia wanted to all but tackle his king to the floor of their bedroom and hold him there, Fritz wouldn't object and would whisper lewd encouragements into his beloved's ear. And when Prussia would begin to tear his clothes off, Fritz would laugh and help him out because, well, that was them too.

Crush

"Get back!" Prussia screamed out not two seconds before the ground in front of them exploded, shooting a fountain of dirt and smoke into the air. If they had not stopped in place then the cannonball would have struck right into the midst of their group.

Frederick pulled on his horse's reins as it whinnied in fear, keeping the beast on a very thin line of control. "Dammit! Where's Oppen?" he demanded, his sharp blue eyes flitting around the battlefield. "It does not take ten minutes to deliver a message!"

"He probably got stuck in the melee," Marshal Keith replied, motioning towards the writhing mass of Austrian and Prussian infantry that were doing their best to hack each other to pieces. It was too close for any of them to use their rifles, and bayonet was ruling the fight. The Prussians were far more advanced with the weapon, but there were more Austrians. Oppen had been sent to find Seydlitz and order him to lead a cavalry charge, and so far not even a stirring of reinforcements could be heard.

Frederick snorted, his brow furrowing angrily. They all knew that the infantry was in trouble, and they needed to send their cavalry out first before the Austrians could rouse their own. There was a sound of thunder in the distance, or rather multiple booms of thunder that overlapped each other as the Austrian artillery let off their cannons one by one. Most of the rounds landed into the infantry and some in the ground directly in front of them, but this time they fell short of them. Frederick seemed completely indifferent to the noise and the shuddering of the earth which made their mounts stamp nervously and calmly reached for his spyglass. Gilbert couldn't help but notice how easy of a target their group presented to be, standing on the crest of a hill, surrounded only by aide-de-camps and the King's personal guards. The enemy noticed too, if all of the rounds that were being directed at them were any indication.

A bullet whistled by, but it hit no one. "Rash, far too rash," Fritz said as if it never even existed. "If the cavalry doesn't come then they will have to retreat." His spyglass snapped shut sharply. "But they won't do that."

"Of course they won't," Prussia replied, knowing that Fritz was tacitly asking him for a confirmation. "They want to distinguish themselves somehow." He could feel that in his heart, his people's determination and courage that would cause them to fight down to the last man. It was taking its toll on him though, with every death the wound in his side would grow bigger and more blood would pour out of it. Soon it would soak through his clothes and then everyone would have been able to see it.

"By getting themselves killed?" Fritz retorted, irritation twisting his features.

"I hear a trumpet!" Marwitz exclaimed suddenly. "A cavalry trumpet!"

Moments after he spoke, the sound drifted to the others as well. It indeed was the peal of a trumpet, calling the cavalry together to charge. One of the cavalry regiments appeared, drawn out of their hiding spot by the call to arms, and suddenly rushed toward the enemy as one. Even from his distant position Gilbert could see Major General Seydlitz leading them, riding in the very front as usual. The thundering of their hooves made the ground beneath them tremble again and the other horses snorted in excitement.

"Finally!" Frederick sighed, his expression lifting. He watched as the mass of cavalry crashed upon the fight, scattering the men like pins. He wheeled around suddenly to view his own battalions of infantry standing behind him, calmly awaiting his orders. "Tell them to march," he ordered Marwitz. "Ride to the generals and tell them to get the men up at once. When the cavalry has softened the Austrian line we can come in and finish them off!"

The aide galloped off, practically flying down the hill in his haste. Prussia's horse tossed her head and pawed at the ground, the young blood fired up. The nation drew his sword, the sharp hiss of metal cutting through the air like lightning, and gripped it tightly in one hand, his eyes alight and the beginnings of a maniac grin already on his face. He saw the others glance at him and Fritz smiled in amusement, but his smile was quickly gone when he looked down at Gilbert's side. Oh hell, the blood must have already soaked through a little.

Neither of them had the time to make a remark about it. The drums started to play, signaling the army to march, and Fritz drew his own sword and held it over his head. The soldiers roared in response, all shouting war cries and "Long live the King!" Gilbert smiled as a new flood of adrenaline rushed through his body, taking away the pain and making it a distant memory. He saw Frederick glance at him in concern, but the king said nothing and started the forward march. The army moved forward with colors flying and instruments playing, as perfect and orderly as if they were at the grand review back in Berlin.

Gilbert laughed insanely as they came down the hill like avenging angels sent to punish those who had dare oppose them and kill their comrades. They slammed into the Austrian line like a wave, blue clashing with white to add to the image. He charged into the Austrians himself, his large Friesian knocking people over with her sheer size and his sword swinging, slashing through bodies left and right and making their blood fly high into the air. He wanted to charge right into the middle of the fray and start hacking, like the good old days, but he had to stay close to Fritz and protect him. He always kept his King in his sight, riding after him if he had to command the line from somewhere else. The other guards were around, occasionally riding off to dispatch hussars and other horsemen, but Prussia always stayed.

"Gilbert!" Fritz yelled in alarm as a few bullets flew by him, taking off a few feathers from his hat.

He laughed and gave him a reassuring wink. "I'm just fine!" he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm far too awesome for mere bullets to tarnish my perfect form!"

Frederick rolled his eyes. Oh hardly. He had seen Gilbert shot plenty of times. "Be careful!" he said, his worried eyes flitting over him, pausing for a moment when they saw his side.

The flow of blood had slowed, but he knew that he would have to get it checked out later or else Fritz would throw a fit. "Worry about yourself!" Gilbert shot back. "You're far more important!"

Before he could argue, another round of cannonade cut Fritz off. It was bombarding the fresh infantry units they had just sent in, but it wasn't very effective due to the sheer number of them. His aides and guards started to rush back over, trying to avoid the shells that struck the ground at random. One of them was missing though, and in the gap he created Prussia could see an Austrian soldier raising his rifle to his shoulder. He was calm, controlled, and precise, his sights pointed in a straight line at his target. Prussia knew who he was pointing at the moment he saw him.

"Look out!" he screamed, pushing his horse into a gallop. Fritz's own horse was nearly bowled over and had to jump out of his way; he managed to catch a glimpse of Frederick's astonished face before an explosion of pain rocked through his shoulder. He heard bones cracking and his arm flared in agony. Okay, now he was shot. He hissed in pain and grabbed his shoulder, feeling hot blood seep through his fingers. Every movement his other arm made sent ripples of pain through his body and for a moment the world spun. Abruptly as it came, the pain lessened, taken away by the life of his soldiers and their unhurt bodies. Now there was an advantage to being a nation, he could always draw on his people's energy to add to his own.

When he looked back up he saw Frederick's eyes on him, staring in shock and surprise. "Just a bullet," he said, gripping his wounded flesh harder to stop the blood. "It's a shoulder, not that serious."

Frederick knew that, but he wasn't quite buying his nation's comforting act. "Get yourself to the surgeons," he ordered, trying to wipe the concern from his face.

"Sir!" Someone called and he automatically looked up.

An odd sound pierced the air, almost like a whistle. Gilbert frowned and noticed that there was an odd black dot in the sky, getting closer and closer and he could tell that it was about to land on him. It looked like a giant black sphere.

Oh son of a bitc—

"Gilbert!" Frederick screamed as the cannonball hit Gilbert, knocking him right off of his horse. He could hear Gilbert's bones snapping in his chest as they were all crushed, and his own chest ached as if he had been the one hit. Gilbert seemed to hang in the air for a moment, suspended in place like a puppet, then he fell as if the strings holding him up had been cut. He hit the ground and actually rolled a few feet from the momentum of his flight, his body limp like a doll's. He lost his sword, his hat, and his cape tangled around his limbs as if his corpse was already being wrapped up for burial. "Gilbert!" Frederick screamed again, barely able to get his name out. Oh no, oh no no. Please, no.

It was absurd to think that Gilbert could hear him. He was dead, after all. Nothing could survive a cannonball to the chest, and he had heard the bones breaking, all of them crumpling like old parchment paper. The fore of it would have also caved in his heart and lungs, an instantaneous death. Gilbert had probably been dead before he even hit the ground. That could have been me, Fritz thought after a moment, the revelation a sudden horror. Gilbert had pushed him out of the way of a bullet, and at the same time had also inadvertently saved him from a cannonball. "Pick him up!" he ordered, glancing at the people around him.

Everyone was shocked, and they all looked at each other as if asking for some confirmation. Pick him up? Was the King mad? Most of them knew Gilbert's true identity, since they had to spend so much time around Fritz and therefore Gilbert as well, but he was dead. He had been hit with a cannonball. Carrying his dead body around now would just slow them down.

Their inactivity made Frederick's face twist in rage. "I said pick him up!" he roared, pointing his sword at them, his eyes as cold and hard as the steel.

His voice was like a whip, snapping them into action. Crazy or not, he was still the King, and not only was that commanding voice nearly impossible for anyone to disobey, but he could also have them punished for not following a direct order. Two of the guards slid off their horses and ran to Gilbert's body, carefully unwrapping it and lifting it up as Gaudy grabbed the reins of Gilbert's horse, thanking the heavens that the level-headed Friesian had not bolted. Even with gunfire and artillery firing around them, Fritz refused to move until he saw that they had tied Gilbert's body securely to his saddle so that he would not fall off. He hadn't woken up yet. "Take him to Doctor Zahner," he said when they had all remounted. "And I mean it. I don't care if you have to search the entire camp, Zahner only!" Zahner was Gilbert's personal doctor, and he was one of the few surgeons in the entire army who knew how to properly take care of their nation.

Again the aides glanced at each other in confusion, but a hard glare made them hold their tongues. A round exploded somewhere near them, making the horses squeal and dance in irritation. "Be careful, dammit!" Frederick yelled as he saw Gilbert starting to slip. He had to look away; he couldn't stand the way Prussia's head lolled limply to one side or look at the blood that was all over his uniform. "Gaudy, please take him," he said after a moment, his voice considerably gentler. His chest still hurt, as if he had been hit, and he knew that he just had to get Gilbert away from him, or else his grief might get the better of him.

The aide looked confused at his sudden change, but nodded and wordlessly took the Friesian's reins and started to gallop away heading for the safety of the lines. Every jolt of the horse's body made Gilbert twitch, a mocking parody of life. Fritz swallowed and turned away again, still hearing breaking bones and feeling that crushing sadness lurking in his heart. Get better. He thought, hoping that this injury was not enough to keep his dear love from coming back to him. Please, get better.

Trapped

"Well this was real damn smart."

"I told you I was sorry!"

"Yes, but sorries aren't going to get us out of here."

"Neither is trying to blame someone for our problems."

"The fault lies with the both of us, Colonel. But I do agree that arguing isn't going to solve anything."

Seydlitz let out a sigh and might have dramatically thrown himself down on something if there had been anything to throw himself onto. "I know, but what is?" he asked, jerking one of his hands out of the muck that they were stuck in. The mud was thick and cold and it stank of rotting vegetation, and they were both trapped in it. Worse was that neither of them knew exactly how deep it was.

"I don't know, let me think of something." Prussia muttered, rubbing his temple. "Gods this is so unawesome, what the hell?" The world, or whatever he had been yelling at, pointedly ignored him. This was so stupid! Out of every single damn thing that could have happened to them, they had to get stuck in some mud? Fritz would never let him live this down if he ever found out.

"Do you think we could walk out?" Seydlitz asked, ever the optimist, trying to twist himself free.

Gilbert let out a humorless laugh. "I doubt it, we're in too deep," he said. There was a frightening sucking noise as Seydlitz suddenly sank deeper into the earth, his movements encumbering him further. "Watch out!" Gilbert yelled and grabbed him by the collar before he could sink any deeper. He felt the weight of the cuirassier drag him down as well, but he never let go. Now they were submerged up to their chests in the vile muck, truly stuck, but Gilbert could at least feel somewhat-solid ground beneath him. He didn't want to move though, for fear that his numbed feet were playing tricks on him. "We have no idea how deep this pit really is," he said to Seydlitz as their descent came to a halt. "For all we know there's more mud below us and any movement could send us to the bottom."

"So I've noticed," Seydlitz replied dryly, a smirk forming on his lips. He was remarkably calm considering the fact that he had just been saved from drowning horribly in a swampy muck, but Gilbert noticed that his hands were shaking slightly as he pulled away his armor so that he could reach into a breast pocket. A few seconds later he came up with his pipe and some tobacco. "You wouldn't happen to have a flame, would you?" The young man asked half-jokingly, using his thumb to press the tobacco into his pipe.

Prussia rolled his eyes at the colonel's attempt at cheerfulness, but he didn't remark on it. "You're lucky this was in my hand when I fell in here," he said, handing him his pistol. His other gun was in its holster—which was on his hip and therefore in the mud—and both of Seydlitz's were holstered.

"Is it loaded?" Seydlitz asked, cocking the hammer back.

"No." He had fired it when they had been chasing the Austrian hussars.

"Thank you, then," Seydlitz replied, holding the striker next to his pipe and pulling the trigger. The force of the hammer hitting the striker caused sparks to fly, which landed inside of his pipe. Personally Gilbert thought that using a pistol to light anything other than a campfire was rather foolish, but hey, if the pipe would calm your nerves then by all means smoke away.

"How long do you think it'll take for the others to realize that we're gone?" The nation asked, checking the sky. It was still light outside, but barely. The only thing he could see clearly was Seydlitz, and the trees around them had turned into formless black lumps. No doubt the sun had already gone down and its light was still peeking out over the horizon.

Seydlitz was quiet for a few long moments, puffing away so that the flame in his pipe would not go out. "Well, we were chasing some Austrians, so they won't expect us for a while," he said at last. "But then again, considering our higher rank people will of course notice our absence sooner. Hopefully our horses will go straight back to the camp, where the food is, and alert everyone else that we're missing."

Gilbert snorted at the moment of the horses. It was their stupid fault that they were in this mess anyway! Yes, totally their fault. If Seydlitz's horse hadn't ridden right into the mud, thereby throwing Seydlitz off her back from the force if it, then Gilbert would never have had to turn around and try to rescue him. And if Wink had not ducked under a tree, causing a low-hanging branch to knock into him, then he would not have fallen into the mud either. And then the stupid beasts had the nerve to ride off and leave them there! Wink simply trotted off, the impudent bitch, and Seydlitz's horse had managed to somehow free herself and went after her, ignoring the calls of them both. Imagine, two of the greatest horsemen in the Prussian Army, one thrown from his horse and the other knocked off by a branch! He could hear the laughter even now.

Instead of laughs, he heard a cheep from somewhere above. Suddenly Gilbird came fluttering down and landed in his hair, chirping curiously. Of course, Gilbird! He must have flown off when Prussia had been hit and was just now returning. "Hey! Come here," he ordered, holding out his hand, which Gilbird obediently hopped into. "Listen up, I want you to fly off and go find Zieten." The bird gave him a puzzled peep. "Zieten! You know Zieten."

"Are you really—" Seydlitz started to say.

"Hush, you'll confuse him! Zieten," Gilbert repeated, stressing the name. Gilbird just blinked. "Ugh! You know, the short one! Furry-Hat Man!" He made a gesture above his head and Gilbird started to chirp enthusiastically and fly circles around his head. "Yes, him! Go find Furry-Hat Man and bring him back here!" The chick responded with a little "Piyo!" and flew off into the sky.

Seydlitz laughed so hard that he nearly inhaled his tobacco. "Furry-Hat Man?" he repeated, coughing a little.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Yes, but don't tell Zieten about it. It takes a long time for Gilbird to pick up on names, so you kind of have to describe most people to him. He'll probably understand Zieten's name after a year or so."

"Does he know me?" Seydlitz asked.

The nation gave him a look. "Yes, actually. You are Sweet-Smoke Man," he said, indicating to the pipe and the wisps of smoke curling from it. Seydlitz laughed again, his face more amused that offended.

"And the King?"

"He's just Fritz," Gilbert said. At Seydlitz's look he explained, "Gilbird can pick up on names, like I said, and he's known the King for as long as I have, so he knows him by name."

Seydlitz nodded and was silent for a long while after that, his eyes watching the light slowly fade from the sky. Gilbert watched with him, although he was scanning the area impatiently, waiting for Gilbird's return. In all honesty they were not that far from the others—he could sense his people nearby—so it shouldn't really take the bird that long to find Zieten. He knew that the general was smart enough to figure out when something was up, so it wouldn't take a whole lot of convincing for Zieten to follow him… at least that's what he was hoping. He shivered, feeling the cold mud sap the warmth from his body. They couldn't stay out here all night, they would freeze.

He saw a faint tremor go through Seydlitz as well, but the man was doing his best to hide it. "Are you certain that, er, Gilbird can find Zieten?" he asked after a moment. The light in his pipe briefly flared, showing his breathing.

"Quite," Gilbert replied, "he's never failed me before. True, it can take him forever to find someone, but he always manages to do it eventually." His feet were numb, and he tried to move them, but they seemed to be stuck. He frowned and twisted his leg back and forth, shifting his weight along both of his feet when he sank a few inches more, up to his armpits. He heard Seydlitz cry out and held up his hand to fend away the one that was reaching him. "Don't!" he snapped, feeling himself come to a stop. His arms were now lying flat on the surface of the mud, keeping him afloat. "Don't try and help me, you'll just suffer the same thing."

He heard a click as Seydlitz bit down on the stem of his pipe, a habit of his whenever he was worried or angry or thoughtful. "Well don't do that again," the colonel said, somewhat gruffly. "I would hate for the both of us to be sucked under because you were too silly to keep yourself still and I had to try and rescue you."

Prussia raised an eyebrow at him, but at this point it was so dark that Seydlitz couldn't see it. "Might I remind you that you are addressing a superior officer?" he asked.

"Yes, I am, but that superior officer also said that I could speak freely in his presence," Seydlitz shot back, the grin evident from his voice alone. "In fact, he insisted that I never censor myself around him."

"Oh be quiet you gloating thing, it's not as if you are totally free of mistakes either."

"How so?"

"Well, Colonel I-Can-Ride-Us-Through-Swampland-Without-Any-Trouble, you were in fact the one who got stuck first."

"Forgive me General, but weren't you the one who ordered us to ride through here in the first place?"

They weren't really arguing, since they both knew that it wasn't entirely one person's fault. More like teasing, in a sense. After all, they had to do something to occupy the time. "That's Field Marshal to you. And I did that because you assured me that you knew your way around marshes and swamps," he replied.

"I do, but you can hardly blame me for my horse taking the bit in her mouth and running off. That was entirely without my consent."

"You are the greatest horseman in the army, are you not? How could a horse get the better of you? Not to mention you were actually thrown from her back."

"You're one to talk, being struck from your own horse by a branch that was at eye level and easily avoidable."

"And if you had not lost your grip then I would never have—"

"Piyo!"

There was a fluttering and suddenly Gilbird was back on his head again, pecking at his hair. Following it was a familiar voice: "Should I come back another time?"

The both of them whirled around to see Zieten, leaning casually against a tree with a lantern in one of his hands. The reins of a horse was in his other hand. "Zieten, you old devil! How long have you been there?" Seydlitz demanded, laughing in relief.

"Oh, I just got here, but I could hear the two of you bickering all the way across the marsh," the hussar general replied lightly. Then a huge grin came over his face. "You know, you two remind me of this old married couple that used to live across the street from me. Those two were always yelling at each other over something and they sounded remarkably like the two of you—"

"Zieten, stop smirking and help us," Seydlitz interrupted, a scowl coming over his features.

Zieten laughed and gently swung the lantern back and forth, casting dancing shadows over the deceptive ground. He didn't move.

Gilbert shook his head. "Lieutenant General Hans von Zieten," he said in the best commanding voice he could muster. "Will you please help us out of this marsh?"

"Of course," the little general replied, turning to his horse and digging around in his saddlebags.

"You're just doing that because he asked you," Seydlitz muttered loudly, biting on his pipe again.

"Is that a hint of jealously I detect there, Seydlitz?" Zieten said, coming up with a long coil of rope.

Prussia laughed as Seydlitz sputtered and nearly dropped his pipe into the mud. He ignored the cuirassier's hot protest and watched as Zieten tied a bit of the rope around the trunk of a tree, then threw the rest over to them. Gilbert caught it easily and wrapped his arm around it, passing a length of it to Seydlitz. When he had a good grip he started to pull on the rope, dragging himself inch by inch to the shore; even Zieten aided them by pulling on his end of the rope, and despite his size he proved to be surprisingly strong, like an ant almost. Despite this, it was quite a few minutes before he felt solid ground beneath his feet and he was able to drag himself out of the rest of the mud. Zieten gave them both a hand and all but yanked them to the shore, pulling them both out at once.

Being stuck in one place for so long hand made his limbs oddly unresponsive and rubbery. He sat back on his heels, for once unmindful of all the dirt and grime getting on his uniform because he was pretty much already covered with filth. "Thanks Zieten," he said stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders to loosen them.

"You're welcome," Zieten replied, giving him a two fingered salute. Then he turned to Seydlitz, who had managed to push himself onto one knee. "Now what was this I heard about you falling off your horse?" he asked, an almost vicious smile coming over him.

"Oh do be quiet," Seydlitz said irritably. He pushed himself up, his legs trembling at the exertion.

Zieten helped him lean against a tree. "I hope you realize that this will probably be all over the camp by tomorrow," he said as casually as if he were stating that the sun would rise tomorrow.

Gilbert groaned in concert with Seydlitz. "You really can't be that cruel, Zieten!" The youngest of them protested. "You wouldn't tell anyone!"

"No, I would not, but I don't have to tell anyone," Zieten replied calmly. "Your horses came into camp, riderless and spattered with mud. Then you two will arrive, the both of you covered almost head to foot in more mud. Everyone knows that there are deep mud pits in the area, and it won't require a genius to figure out what happened." He hung the lantern from a tree and went back down the path he came. "I also brought horses for you, by the way," he explained and came back a minute later leading two mounts for them. Seydlitz thanked him and promptly vaulted into his saddle, his weariness briefly forgotten. For a few seconds Zieten watched him, his smile never leaving his face. "Just don't fall off again, alright? I would hate to have to pull you out of the mud twice."

"My God, Zieten," Seydlitz growled, running his temple with his mud-free hand. "I'm not going to fall off."

"Twice," Gilbert added, causing Seydlitz to glare at him. Zieten laughed and shook his head in amusement, climbing on top of his own horse. The colonel all but bristled in indignation, then he wheeled his horse around and trotted away, leaving the two of them snickering to themselves and hurrying after him.

Photo Album

The grainy black and white photo had turned yellow over time, but the image in it was still clear as ever. The lack of colors to it seemed to give a more serious tone to the setting, at least that was Ludwig's opinion. Granted, that could have also been because that cameras and photography had just been invented and many people were awkward and stiff in many old pictures because of it, but then again Gilbert was one of those rare few who took immediately to the new invention. But even with Gilbert's lighthearted smirk staring at him from the ancient picture he still thought that his brother looked very calm and collected. So unlike how he was now. Standing beside him in the picture was none other than Ludwig himself, still caught in the gangly teen years of his youth. They were both in full dress uniform, since Gilbert had insisted it, and Gilbert's arm was around his shoulders, pulling him closer into a one-handed embrace. After a moment he turned the picture over. Written on the back in Gilbert's rapid, slightly archaic handwriting was a date, the year 1879. The same day that he had become an official country.

He tucked the paper into the protective sheet of the binder, carefully making sure that it wouldn't tear. He had arranged all of the pictures in his collection by the date they were taken, and this was the first picture of the two of them together. All of the ones before that were pictures and paintings of Gilbert, depicting him striking all sorts of poses in order to "capture the essence of his awesomeness" as Gilbert had once put it. He pitied the poor photographers and painters that had to sit through that.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes—because honestly Gilbert took up half of the whole album by himself—he turned the page. His baby blue eyes flitted across the next group of pictures. All of them were of the brothers together, standing in a military parade of Prussia's, posing with Bismarck (whom Prussia had dragged unwillingly into the shot), standing outside of a post office in Berlin, or walking around the grand fountain in front of Sanssouci. In all of them they were smiling. Ludwig noticed that more than anything. The lack of colors still gave off a serious undertone, but the emotion in the picture was still very real, as real as it had been the day it had been taken. They were talking and smiling and in one of the photos Gilbert was laughing outright, and it was so beautiful that Ludwig's heart hurt. They were the final years of the Kingdom of Prussia, where his brother had been strong and powerful and confident. Before his decline.

Germany turned the page again. Gilbert was driving his first car and Ludwig was cowering in the seat next to him, and the chaos that the albino had caused that day had almost forced Berlin into a lockdown. The Kaiser had not been very happy about that. In contrast the next picture was of them sitting on a bench, enjoying a box of pastries that Gilbert had bought. Some amateur photographer had snapped the shot, since he had seen Gilbert's albinism and wanted to publish it. He remembered how Gilbert had chased the man down the street and stolen his camera, right after he had given him two black eyes first. The only reason why no permanent damage had been done to him was because Ludwig had dragged his brother off of him. They kept the pictures though, because it really had been a good shot.

There was one of them visiting Munich together, and then a whole handful of ones that had France and Spain in them, cavorting drunkenly around Frankfurt with Gilbert, and Ludwig had been their unwilling accomplice. He still had no recollection of what happened that night. He smiled as he flipped the page again, but in an instant he vanished.

The next page was empty.

He swallowed, feeling ice prickle his spine. He knew why this part was blank. Despite all of the journalists and photographers that went to the trenches to observe the First World War, there were no pictures of himself during that time. He had actually refused them. Prussia had as well, and for many years those pages remained unchanged. He skipped over the empty sections and stumbled across a picture labeled "1923" that showed Gilbert using piles of their worthless marks to build a model of a giant wurst. That was the only one of its kind, Germany had no desire to see himself during his depression, and he had been too busy to take one anyway.

He frowned at the book. Actually…

Now that he really thought about it, the whole rest of the album was empty, except for a section at the back depicting the present day. Pictures of the brothers during World War II did exist, but they had no place here. Their defeat, occupation, crimes, humiliation, the Wall…nothing. Ludwig already had plenty of memories of those times, there was no need to keep mementos. He sighed and opened to the back of the book, and colors exploded in front of his eyes. The dreary black cloud was gone and energy and life shone out of these new pictures. For the first time they were smiling without reservation, all of the stiffness of their previous photos gone. Sometimes the Italies, Japan, and occasionally America would be hanging out in the background, either laughing at them or trying to butt into the picture, and someone (France, he was certain) had stolen the camera for one shot and had snapped a picture of Gilbert's ass.

Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him and Gilbert leaned over the back of the couch to look at him. "A photo album? Seriously West?" he asked, propping his elbows up on the furniture. "You are such a woman sometimes. Who the hell keeps a damn photo album in their house?"

"Hey, some of these are worth lots of money," Ludwig replied, thumbing to the front to show him the older pictures.

"Who cares? Why would you look at pictures when you have The Awesome Me here in person?" Gilbert suddenly clambered over the back of the couch and dropped rather ungracefully next to him, splaying half of his body across Ludwig's lap. "I'm bored, Bruder. Entertain me!" he demanded.

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Get off," he said, pulling the album out from under Gilbert's body.

"Weeest," Gilbert whined, nudging him in the stomach. "Come on, you've been out here for an hour probably cleaning and looking at pictures and all sorts of unawesome shit and I've been alone! Is that any way to treat your older brother?" He nudged him again, more insistently this time. "We should do something together."

"Like what?" Ludwig asked, closing the album and laying it on the table. Gilbert was obviously not going to leave him alone long enough for him to look at it, so why bother?

The albino scrunched up his face, deep in thought. "Hey I know! Let's go to the park! The dogs will love it."

Ludwig frowned at that and was going to reply when the clattering of paws interrupted him and suddenly all three of the dogs were around them, wagging their tails hopefully. They knew well enough what the word "park" meant and now Gilbert had probably riled them all up with his words. Aster whined and put her paws up on the couch, leading Gilbert to scratch her on the head. "Alright, fine," Ludwig said, pushing against his brother again. "But get up so I can leave."

"Yay!" Gilbert cheered, shooting up and wrapping his arms around his little brother. Before Ludwig even had time to register it he kissed him and then bounced off, running to get the leashes while the dogs chased excitedly after him.

Chastity

"Come on, let me touch your balls damnit!"

"Like, what the heck's wrong with you? Get away from me!"

The Teutonic Knights frowned to himself. That was not an acceptable answer! Other should have been praising him on their knees for his awesomeness, not running! "Come back here!" he yelled, widening his pace. Thankfully Poland's legs were shorter than his, so he couldn't run as fast. "Don't make me take your vital regions by force!"

"Vital regions?" Feliks repeated, glancing over his shoulder as he ran. "Totally not a cool name!"

Gilbert growled and leaned forward, putting all of his efforts into catching him. He knew that he was stronger because the Knights made him train every day, and stupid Feliks with his girlish ways probably slacked off all the time. In one final push he flung himself at the blond like a cat and managed to grab him around the ankles, causing him to trip and fall face-first to the ground. Feliks started to kick and thrash, but Gilbert held on tightly. "This is what happens when you resist me!" The knight crowed victoriously.

"No, get off!" Feliks shouted, reaching for his sword, but it was trapped against his body and the ground.

"What the hell are you idiots doing?"

Gilbert looked over at Hungary, who was standing nearby with a disapproving scowl on her face. "Hang on, Hungary. I'm busy," he said, reaching up the grab Feliks by his cape.

"Help me!" Poland yelled, starting to scratch at the ground with his fingers. "Hungary please help me!"

Hungary rolled her eyes and came closer. "Let him go, you freak," she said, stopping right beside them.

"Hah! You're the freak," Gilbert muttered. A second later he was kicked sharply in the stomach. "Ow! What the hell you asshole?" He yelled, curling up a little.

"I said let him go! Just because your knights passed that weird law doesn't mean that you have to take it out on everyone!" She grabbed them and tried to pull them apart but she tripped and fell right on top of them. For a few seconds there was a mass of flying punches and kicks, and then Poland broke free and started running for his life, holding his face and limping some.

"Now look what you did, he got away!" Gilbert said, pulling on Hungary's hair.

"Don't pull my hair you jerk!" she shouted and promptly elbowed him in the stomach, loosening his grip so she could slip away. "Besides, you were the one who was chasing him and doing all of that weird shit so you deserved it."

Gilbert rubbed his stomach gently. "Well it's not my fault that the Knights just passed these stupid laws," he muttered. "I mean, I don't care about getting married but not being able to get any action at all? I mean, that's just ridiculous!"

"It's about being pure or something, you idiot!" Hungary snapped, brushing off her clothes. She wasn't really sure what exactly being "pure" was and why it was such a big deal, but if everyone was making such a big deal about it then it had to be important.

"Don't call me an idiot!" Gilbert yelled, tackling her and punching her in the ribs.

"I'll call you whatever I want!" Hungary yelled back, kneeing in him the gut, right over where she had already hit him. For a moment they fought, but then they broke apart with Gilbert holding his jaw and Hungary holding her eye. A momentary truce was called after that, since they had both managed to land a hit on the other.

Gilbert puffed out his lip and scratched absent patterns into the dirt. "I think it's silly," he said after a long moment. "Not being able to do anything with women…" A large grin formed on his face as he said that, though. "But they never said anything about guys. Hey wait a moment, Hungary! You're a guy! You can let me touch your balls!"

Instantly Hungary blushed all the way up to her hairline. "N-No!" she said, scrambling to her feet and backing away. The very idea of that annoying knight getting near her like that made her insides twist up.

"Why not?" Gilbert asked, getting up as well. "You're a guy, and so am I. What's the problem?"

"Just because we're both guys doesn't mean that you can go and touch my balls!" Hungary shot back, her face reddening as she said the words.

The young country noticed this, too. "What, you don't like saying balls?" he said, a huge smirk stretching his lips. "God, you can be such a woman sometimes. Good thing you're not though! Now come here!" He held out his arms.

"No!" Hungary yelled again, backing up even further. "Don't you dare touch me!"

"Don't make me have to invade you," Gilbert said, starting to laugh. "Another conquest for the Knights! Hiyaaa!" He launched himself at his fellow country, and the both of them went down, rolling around in the dirt, kicking and screeching. They fought like two animals, Gilbert trying to twist Hungary's limbs and force her into a submissive position while Hungary kept trying to break free.

It was a fight that Gilbert did not win.

Voices

"I would be careful, Friedrich, we're treading on a very fine line here."

"My Prince, why are you crying? Please, dry your eyes for me. A face like yours does not deserve tears."

"I do not wish to desert my country, it would seem cruel to him. I don't care what your father thinks, though. Anyone who mistreats you so deserves to be sent to the lowest pit of Hell."

"Don't act too rash now. Calm down for a moment and let's think this through. After all, I'm not going to back out, but getting caught will certainly result in our deaths."

"…I'm sorry you have to suffer through this, love. Cry into this, if you want."

"How could you ever think that I would abandon you? I love you, Friedrich, with all of my heart."

I love you.

I love you.

I loved you.

I love you.

I

l

o

v

e

d

you.

He could hear the words echoing all around him, overlapping each other and making a sort of white noise on his brain until one line was spoken with a particular vehemence. They came from everywhere and nowhere and surrounded him with their gentle caresses, then tore him apart the very next moment with their memories.

I love you. How his heart had warmed when he first heard those words! And now the very thought of them was causing that same heart to shriek in agony.

He twisted in his bunk, as if that could somehow throw the voices off of him. The creak of the wood just made them get louder.

"Tonight? Friedrich, it's too dangerous. We're not safe yet, please, I beg you, wait a while longer!"

"I agree, the French fashion does suit you quite well. I don't mind the uniform, but this coat makes you look so much more attractive."

"My Prince, are you always this lazy in the morning? We didn't even do anything last night and you're as stubborn to wake as a child."

"Don't you dare tell me that is 'nothing!' Good God, Friedrich, that bruise is as wide as my hand! No, no objections! I don't care if you are my Prince, you are also my lover and I will not let you go untreated."

The walls were speaking to him.

That's where the voices were coming from. They oozed out of the cracks and slithered down the floor, thick and heavy, like the fog that would roll in from the marshes. That wonderful, comforting voice that had been there whenever he needed it, that voice that would drown out his sorrows and pain and would replace it with love. It came to him when he fell asleep, and then it started appearing during the day. Or was he just dreaming? The only thing he was certain of was the voice.

Or, voices. After a while more had come.

"Hey Fritz, you okay? ….No need to get all hostile, I was just asking. Hey don't start pulling that silent crap with me now, you've always been able to trust me! I've always been there for you."

"Ungrateful brat! So you were going to run off and desert, eh? Where were you going to go? Tell me!"

"So that's what your hair really looks like? It's a wonderful color, very suiting."

"Leave me alone! You can never know how I feel!"

"You say that you don't know love, and I say that is untrue. You just haven't been given enough to let you know what it really is. I promise you, Friedrich, you never need to worry about that with me. I already told you that I love you, and I promise that I will show you how much before this night is done."

"Get out of my sight! You faint-hearted scoundrel, can't you even stick up for yourself? Of course not! A fool with no honor just takes what comes his way; if I were you then I would have run away a long time ago, but you haven't even got the courage to do that."

"Oh, mein lieber Prinz… You're a mess sometimes, you know that?"

"I'm so sorry… I bring it upon myself."

"Nein. Don't you ever say that. You've done nothing to deserve this, love."

"Fritz, about what happened today, I can't believe he did that. Honestly, I would have stopped him if I had known."

"No you wouldn't."

"Fritz—"

"Your Majesty! Cut me to pieces, but spare your son!"

He was jolted awake by hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently. It was dark, so dark, like he was trapped inside the womb of some stone best. But this womb was cold and lifeless and unforgiving. Someone had been screaming, but the moment he woke up it stopped.

"Dear Prince—"

"My Prince—"

"—it was just a dream—"

"Hey calm down, Fritz. Dreams aren't gonna hurt ya'."

"Do you need something—"

"What I need, Katte, is to get out of here!"

" —to sleep?"

Sleep.

Yes, that sounded wonderful.

Sleep didn't hurt. Sleep was cool and gentle, and the voices there were kind. Except when they weren't. His eyes fell shut again on their own accord, before his two faceless guards could even finish what they were saying. As he drifted away he felt a hand on his head, combing through his disheveled curls like a mother soothing her child. The phantom fingers skimmed across his forehead, curling his hair around his ear, the same way… the same way he…

A soft chuckle reached him, so familiar that it hurt. It couldn't be real, it couldn't. He saw the body, he saw the head in the dust. Those fingers, that voice could not exist, but they sounded and felt so real. "Mein Prinz," his voice, so often remembered, murmured. It sounded amused, and yet patiently loving, like he always had. "My dear Friedrich."

He turned his head away, burying it into his pathetic excuse of a pillow. A lump was in his throat, and hot tears trickled out of his tightly shut eyes as he remembered those words for the thousandth time.

"To die for such a sweet prince is an honor."

Adrenaline

He loved this. The roar and scream and clash of battle, hot gun smoke filtering through his vision and the pounding of feet and hooves trembling the ground below. This is what he was made for. This was where he had his first success, as the Teutonic Knights conquering the heathen lands of the pagans.

It didn't matter that this was a different time with a different battleground and different people. All wars were the same. The only thing that differed was the amount of destruction.

He laughed wildly as he felt his sword plunge into a man's side, no doubt shredding through his guts. Screw the silly rifles and bullets, this was how you really fought! Face to face with the enemy, close enough to feel their gore spatter across your face. Fighting using skills and physical strength was so much more satisfying than just firing a gun, although those had their benefits as well. But this was embedded in him, his very first battles revolved around swords and slaughter, and he couldn't erase that streak from him even if he wanted to.

And his people, his brave soldiers, they loved it too. Caught up in the moment of battle, courting with Death, not knowing if they would be dead the next moment. It created a storm of energy that was all channeled into him, one body feeling the lives of thousands; it felt like he was flying and that nothing could ever touch him. He was always among them, feeling what they were feeling, sharing their victory and spoils while at his King's side. Hell even Frederick was affected, why else would he be on the front lines, bullets flying about him as he shouted and directed and occasionally drew his own sword as well? The pure thrill of it, he knew.

"Oh, don't try to fool me," the nation said when Fritz had first tried to deny it and brush it off. "You love the adrenaline rush, all of us do. It's not a crime."

"To like killing, it is not?" Frederick asked, looking up from his book.

Prussia chuckled. "You're being far too broad. What about that 'good for the Fatherland' stuff you were spouting out when we started this war?"

Fritz couldn't help but mirror his nation's grin. "Alright, you caught me. I like the feeling of battle, but not the actual killing itself."

"You don't have to," Gilbert replied, surprised at how easily he had folded. "After all, they're both two different things."

Yes, completely different. Just like what happened during the battles and after were two different things…

…well, only sometimes.

Prussia may have been injured, but sometimes the wounds were not that serious. They would heal up soon anyways, so he rarely worried about the, especially if the victory he had won was particularly awesome. But he could still feel the energy, the pure euphoria of his people as they were caught up in their victory. He felt so happy and awesome and as if he were about to literally explode from the force of all of the different emotions building up inside of him. Often he went to find work after his battles, ride or visit the injured or do something to get rid of that energy so he wouldn't be bouncing around later as if he were on a sugar high. And that was where Fritz would come in; they were both on a rush and they both needed to get rid of it, so why not?

Fritz rarely started it, most of the time it was Prussia luring him away or catching him alone and then forcing him up against a wall or a bed or really whatever they had at the moment. Their kisses were heated and rushed, punctuated by sucking and harsh bites that left red rings all over each other's skin. They were far too pumped up, far too wild to think about being careful or soft. They had just gotten out of a battle and were lucky to still be alive, slow and loving sex was not going to cut it.

Sex ist eine Schlat.

Liebe ist Krieg.

Gentleness was a thing of the past, like a beloved pet that had been left at home so it wouldn't have to see the dangers of war. They bite and scratched each other, marking their territories and conquests of their bodies. Again another battle, but an entirely different sort of one that used moans for battlecries and nails and teeth for guns. Were they even trying to find a victor? No, the victory was in the pleasure and the excitement of fucking until the room started to spin around them. And yet they had to drive it higher, higher, ever higher, trying to recreate that wonderful wave of adrenaline which heightened everything around them and made their blood burn.

Even though gentleness rarely had a place now, it still managed to sneak after them and find the most unexpected moments to emerge. Afterwards, among sweat and panting as their energy left them, it found a home. A kiss or a touch, a few murmured words of affection, is where it revealed itself. There was no time for sweet nothings or cuddling or sleeping, war was always present, whether in affairs of love or battle, and they were hurried along by it. It was like the other side of the coin, the lustful and passionate side of love that hurried things as opposed to its more gentle half. It was an odd and uncertain sort of life, but neither of them were complaining.

After all, the fun they had was more than worth it.

A/N: If you throw tomatoes, can they at least not be rotten? ;3;

Restraint: SO YEAH GUYS. Um, well, this just happens to be my first lemon ever. *coughs* I'm such a schizo with my writings sometimes... I was really wigging out about this cause I had no idea if it was good or not and I was just ready to hide this away forever but a dear DA frien of mine was lovely enough to tell me that she loved it. So, at least one person did ^^
I can totally see Prussia doing this too. I know that Fritz's German is quite good here, and I have a headcanon that actually has him speaking German rather well. Mainly because he had to speak to his soldiers and a good bit of his generals in German, but also because Gilbert will pull this crap on him and refuse to have sex with him unless he speaks it. Correctly. XD
These should be (rough) translations of what Fritz is saying:
-Ich will daß du mich berührst (I want you to touch me)
- Ich brauche dich (I need you)
-Hör auf mich nur scharf zu machen und fick mich endlich (Stop with the tease game and fuck me already)
-Genau da, ja genau da! Halt, was machst du? (Right there, yes right there! Wait, what are you doing?)
-Nein! Bitte hör nicht auf! Gilbert, ich schwöre bei Gott wenn du aufhörst, dann werde ich.. (No! Don't stop, please! Gilbert, I swear to god if you stop I'll-) -Lass mich frei (Let me go)

Submission: And here you see a bit of my view on their relationship. In just the previous story I had Prussia topping Fritz, and now it's the other way around. In all honesty I couldn't care less who tops or bottoms, and who's seme or uke (and honestly stereotypes like that kind of irk me, nothing against them though XDD) so basically all of my characters are seke XD It doesn't matter to me, as long as I get my porn XDD
I always wondered just how Prussia could bottom to Fritz anyway, because he has such a huge ego that I don't he could be a bottom forever. I knew that he would do whatever Fritz wanted him to do because he loved him, but explaining it was kinda tricky. XD
This also shows me never to start listening to Disney songs in the middle of writing. Because they will go from hot to GOOEY SAP in seconds XDD I'm sorry if this rotted your teeth out with sweetness, gotta watch out for that.

Crush: I don't know what battle this is supposed to be, it's just a battle XDD However it's after Kolin, I can tell you that much. I needed some Fritz angst cause I haven't seen it in a while. :P
I think that even though Prussia has told Fritz time and again that he can't die and he'll come back to life if did die, Fritz still freaks the hell out whenever he does die. I mean, he probably has a problem about the people whom he loves dying, considering what happened to Katte and all… besides it gives me an excuse to write Fritz as all worried and mother-henny, and I think it's adorable ^_^ (Hey at least his head wasn't blown off! *shot*)At least Gilbert didn't get his head blown off...
Oppen, Marwitz, and Gaudy are real people, and were actual aides to Fritz. In fact the only fictional character in here aside from Gilbert is Zahner, who insists on making himself a part of my stories. P

Trapped: I loved writing this, so much XDDD Although I have no idea why I'm picking on Seydlitz, he's my favorite general aside from Zieten XD I probably messed up his personality too, but I always heard that he was bold, outspoken, and a bit rash, so I tried to make it seem that way but at the same time I think I made him act too young…. Although he was the youngest general in the Prussian Army at the time. (He's called Colonel in this story because this happened before Kolin.)
Anyway, this plot just literally popped out of nowhere. I wanted Prussia to be trapped in something, and after a long time I thought of a mud pit, but he needed some company so I decided to dump Seydlitz in there as well, then make fun of him for falling off his horse. Seydlitz was supposed to be like, the best horseman in the army ever, so I thought that it would be funny if he fell off his horse because everyone would tease him about it. Then Zieten had to come to add more win to the story XD Personally I think the three of them would have gotten along wonderfully, seeing how alike they are at times.
I'm actually kind of mad that I couldn't find a name for Seydlitz's horse, as silly as that sounds. I found one before, but I couldn't find it again and I was really mad at that. And the name of Gilbert's horse is, in fact, Wink. There's an odd sort of reasoning behind that one XDD

Photo Album: Ah, this was one of my "I-don't-know-what-to-write-so-I'll-just-put-down-whatever-sounds-good" prompts. Again I somewhat rambled XD It would be totally in character for Germany to keep a photo album in his house, and I had so much fun thinking up the pictures and the stories behind them.
This was totally going to be angsty at first, but I checked my future prompts and a lot of them are loaded with angsty stuff, so I decided to make this fluffy instead~ You can still see traces of it though, with Germany musing about wars and stuff. Good thing Gilbert's there to be his usual annoyingly endearing self and take his mind off of things.

Chastity: ...All I have to say is that if Himapapa had never done that one Christmas strip that showed this scene, this prompt would have never been filled XDDD That seriously made me laugh my ass off and I wanted to continue it so badly XD
My little Prussia and Hungary fight. A lot. Fluff moments are few and far inbetween. It was kind of odd writing for them too, because I wanted to call Hungary "he" but that would have been confusing and I had a hell of a time trying not to type "Prussia" because Gilbert wasn't known as Prussia back then P
Hungary still thinks she's a guy in this one, but the idea of Prussia getting close to her or touching her "balls" just freaks her out cause Prussia's a little freak like that XD

Voices: Hmm, insanity? Check. Angst? Check. Hints of fluff? Check. To come whumpage? Check check aaaand check and oh gods I love this so much. Writing crazy people if a favorite of mine ;w;
Kustrin again, although that should have been pretty obvious. Yeah yeah Fritz went off the deep end for a few days after Katte died and was sick and had hallucinations and stuff, we should all know this. Annnywaaaays my favorite creepy music band came back to help me write the beginning of his spiral into craziness. At first I was going to have him hear nothing but Katte's voice, but then I threw more in there because more voices equals more crazy.
You see, at first he's hearing nothing but voices, and at the end he's starting to imagine people touching him, so he's just going downhill. Just wait till he starts seeing stuff because it gets worse. In my very nxt set of three there's a prompts called Insanity and...oh lord I'm gona go all out on that one *cackles*
Poor, poor Fritz. How I torment you so XD

Adrenaline: Hmmm, I think it's short, but I kind of ran out of things to say because I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do with this anyway. But I do love the idea of rough sex after a battle cause it's so Prussia :3 I hate how I ended too, it seems rushed to me. Argh.
So at first it was just going to be Prussia being insane on the battlefield but I already did that so my pervy mind decided to come along and be all "Well you can get an adrenaline rush from OTHER things if you GET my SUBTLE hints" and I was all "Hell yeah" and started writing about them fucking the hell out of each other XD
The German lines comes from a Rammestein song called "Wollt Ihr das Bett in Flammen Sehen" Rammestein is one of my favorite bands ever and I thought the lyrics were pretty fitting for the situation.