Chapter 54 Her Surrender
Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse for Adeladja after her visit with Posen...
Adeladja recognized the voices of Berta and Prussia. She groaned and pulled the quilt over her head. Of all the entities she knew, he was the last one she wanted to see. And of course, silly mortal Berta would feel flattered and even a little afraid of him, so she would disobey Adeladja's orders and let him visit her. Sure enough, she heard the bedroom door open. Adeladja caught a glimpse of Prussia's silhouette in the doorway and hid further under the quilt.
"So you are ill, Adeladja," he said, walking over to her. He turned on the oil lamp and sat down on the bed. Adeladja wiggled away from him. "Do you want me to summon my physician for you?"
"Nein," she mumbled. "I am in no disposition to see anyone." She glanced balefully at him from under the quilt. "I am afraid I am not good company for anyone, even you. You should go seek amusement elsewhere."
"I didn't come here for amusement, Liebling," Prussia replied. He laid a warm hand on her shoulder. She tried to shrug it off, but he pressed more firmly upon her. "I came because I was worried about you, Schatz. Tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing in particular. I just feel badly disposed. I need to rest."
"Hmmm, your visit to Plötzensee Prison was that exhausting? Or did Boreslaw slip you some spoiled broth?" At Prussia's words, Adeladja pulled down the quilt long enough to glare at him before hiding herself further. "Come, come, Schatz, you should have guessed I would have found out. Hans might be a novice, but at least he knows that part of his duties. So what is it, Adeladja? Did you catch a chill while you were there?"
"One could say that," she muttered, more to herself than him. She recalled the province of Posen's cold hostility towards her and shuddered.
"Liebling, if you're shivering, you must have gotten chilled. I'll get my doctor and tell the stewards to build you a fire."
"Nein, nein, that's unnecessary," she protested. The idea of a hot fire in the already stuffy room repelled her.
"Well, then, tell me what ails you." Prussia stroked her back and his voice grew softer. "Bitte, Liebling, let me know what I can get you. Some tea and brandy, a cup of broth, a hot water bottle—"
Adeladja drew the covers down so she could glower at him. "Some time alone would be ideal." When he looked offended, she backtracked. "Bitte, Gilbert, there is nothing you can do. Just let me rest in peace and I shall be fine tomorrow." She knew she wouldn't, but she needed to appease him.
"Hmmph, something tells me your visit didn't go well." At Prussia's words, she retreated under the covers. "You can hide all you like, Liebling, but I'm still here. I'll be honest, Adeladja, when I had heard about your little day trip to the prison, I knew whom you were going to see and I wasn't pleased about it. I was going to discipline you for it, but it seems that seeing Posen was punishment enough." He sounded so pleased at hitting the mark, that Adeladja not only pulled the covers away from her head, but sat up and stared at him as haughtily as she could muster.
Prussia seemed more amused than cowed or angry. "So Mausi has emerged from her nest!1 Tell me about your visit. Did you smuggle in some vodka and toast his stubborn archbishop? Did you and he coordinate another uprising against me?" He leaned closer, teasing. "Or did you two simply rail against the diabeł pruski and his mean, mean laws?"
"Our meeting went fine! And you were not our topic of conversation!" Adeladja looked down her nose at him. To her frustration, Prussia laughed.
"Then why are you ill in bed, Frau? I imagine if your meeting went well , you would have been more than happy to deceive me. You would have come to dinner, smiling like a cat at every word I said. You would have plucked out "Jeszcze Polska nie zginęła" on your harp and claimed it was by accident.2 You can't fool me, Liebling, you would have been too pleased with yourself."
I can fool you, Adeladja thought as she glared at him. "I would never have done such a thing," she said loftily. "My meeting went well, and now I am indisposed. Surely that can happen."
"I don't think so, Adeladja." Prussia stopped smirking and his voice grew gentler. "Last night, I could tell you were excited about something. A little nervous, but a happy energy, like I would feel the night before a battle. And now you are sullen. Something happened today that upset you." He tried to take her hand, but she drew it away. "Come, Adeladja, don't be so foolish and proud. Tell me what has made you so unhappy." He paused, waiting for her to answer. She stayed silent. He sighed. "Did Boreslaw snub you? If so, I'll make sure there's never enough fuel for his cell and he gets only stale bread heels. The guards can always be a little clumsy and thoughtless with his shackles. Would that please you?"
"Nein, let him alone." She stared past Prussia's shoulder at the pale bedroom walls decorated with gilt-framed landscapes and painted furniture. My gilded cage, she thought bitterly. "He means nothing to me."
"Kesesese, so your meeting didn't go so well after all!" Prussia saw her pained expression and grew serious. "Adeladja, you must tell me what happened. If you don't want me to punish him, I won't. But I don't like seeing you so, it pains me." He reached out and stroked her cheek. The touch was so gentle and his eyes such a soft burgundy, she struggled to recall that he was the cause of all her troubles. "Bitte, Liebling, tell me. Whatever happened, I'm on your side."
Adeladja hesitated. After Boreslaw's cold gaze and harsh words, she was grateful that someone showed warmth and kindness, even if it was Prussia. I shouldn't tell him, she thought, I should be proud and not betray Posen any further. But she remembered how the Polish province had mocked her and compared it to Prussia's concern. "He insulted me," she finally whispered.
She felt Prussia's fingertips grow tense and saw red flicker in his eyes. "Did he hurt you, did he touch you in any way?"
"Nein, nein," she gasped, shaking her head. Even now, she didn't want Boreslaw charged with rape. "He insinuated things, he called me names." Her courage and hurt pride gathered within her. "He said I was your whore, that everyone knew and gossiped about it. My reputation is ruined!" Her voice broke and she covered her face with her hands as tears started again.
She heard Prussia curse under his breath as he drew his hand away. "Das Arschloch," he growled.3 "Sorry for my crude language, Frau, but that's what he is. You're not my whore; you're my Geliebte, my—how does France say it?—ma maîtresse en titre4. Ja, that's it," he seemed pleased with himself. "My official mistress. That's not a whore."
"It is a whore!" Adeladja cried. She glared at him with red, tear-filled eyes. "A fancy whore with only one client, but a whore! He not only knows, but he says everyone knows! It's not only common knowledge in the Empire, but beyond! My reputation is in tatters. Do you know what that means?"
Prussia studied her until she worried that she had angered him. But to her surprise, he shrugged. "It means that everyone knows that you belong to me, that I have chosen you out of all others to be my special friend." She snorted at the word "friend," but grew silent when he raised an eyebrow at her. "Why should you be ashamed of that? You are a city, and yet I have elevated you above all other kingdoms, principalities, duchies and provinces to be closest to me. Who wouldn't talk? Who wouldn't marvel at your good fortune and envy you?"
"You elevated me? I should be envied? I'm more like a conquered territory in the Ottoman's Empire's harem than I am your mistress!" Adeladja clenched her fists and pounded them on her thighs. As Prussia studied her coolly, she grew more frustrated. "I am the gossip of Europe! If German states know, then who else knows? Can't you see that?"
Again, Prussia shrugged and again she wanted to pound her head—or preferably his—against the hard glass panes of the window near her bed. "Who cares what others think?" He replied. "Look at what I give you," he gestured at the room with its carved, painted furniture and artwork, the large wardrobe that held expensive French dresses—"and look at how you are in the Empire's inner circle. Isn't that better than being stuck in your city, playing cards and pushing papers around? And really, Liebling," he shook his head, smiling a little. "You aren't the gossip of Europe. There are more intriguing events going on than a kingdom taking one of his cities for his mistress."
"But they still know! They see you parade me around, they see me in the Stadtschlosse, at major events—"
"And what's so bad about that?" Prussia interrupted. "It means I'm not ashamed of you. Would you prefer if I hid you away in a little townhouse in Berlin, never introduced you to any personifications or permitted us to be seen in public together?" He lowered his brows. "I'd hate to think you're ashamed of me, Liebling." His voice grew lower and colder. "I'll have you know that despite my coloring, many nations and mortals think I'm rather handsome and quite the catch."
Adeladja didn't like how he glowered at her, his burgundy eyes shifting to ruby. I don't need him angry at me after Boreslaw today, she panicked. "Nein, nein, Gilbert. I'm not ashamed of you." That seemed to placate him. Nie, she thought glumly as he preened, I am ashamed of myself. "It's just that I—I wish it were not such public gossip. Within the Empire, that's understandable. But outside of it, the fact that other nations might know, that they discuss us in letters…." She trailed off.
"And who would do that, Adeladja? Do you think someone wrote to Posen about you? Do you think he has written to others?" At Prussia's words, she bowed her head. After agonizing silence, he slowly exhaled.
"Well, that explains everything, doesn't it?" He said slowly. "That's why Poland and Krakow haven't written you after all this time. They have cast you off." At his words, she began to weep again. When he gathered her into his arms, she tried to push him away. "Let me go, let me go!" She sobbed, but he held her closer, stroking her back and hair. Finally, she grew limp and buried her face in his military tunic and wept. Someone was holding her and comforting her in her grief, even if it was the nation who had caused that rejection.
"Liebling, Liebling, no wonder you are so upset! How cruel of them to do this, after you have written so much to them!" He petted her hair as she sobbed harder. "You gave yourself up so Poland could live and this is how he repays you. Meine arme Mädchen, no wonder you are so sad."
"I should never have come here," she muttered. Some strength and anger fluttered within her and she sat up and glared at Prussia. "I should have known you would have ruined me. This is all your fault."
Prussia looked stung, but she saw him struggle to regain control. "Nein, Liebling. I have only done what you and Feliks knew I would do. You chose to come here in his stead, he agreed to it. He let you into the lion's den so he could escape it, knowing full well what I have always thought about you. And instead of being grateful or forgiving of your situation, he punishes you for it. That is not kind, not brotherly." His voice was low and firm. "If Maria had come to me after my defeat at Jena and insisted she would go to France's tent in my stead, I would never have rejected her for such a selfless act. I would have loved and held her closer, instead of casting her away in shame. That's what Poland has done to you, Adeladja."
"Nein, that's not true!" She cried. "He warned me about you!" She remembered her final conversation with Feliks, when he had told her his concerns and urged her not to do anything to shame herself or him. But I have failed, and now he knows it. She burst into fresh tears.
"So he knew what would happen and he let you go anyway." Prussia's voice was soft and calm; it maddened her. "He knew I would desire you and I would get what I wanted. And now he has abandoned you in disgust. What a cruel game he has played."
Adeladja pulled away from him. She glared at him, hoping he would grow angry. Even that would be preferable to this eerie self-control. "You have played the cruel games! You have abused me! He didn't want me to go, he argued against it-."
"But you came anyway, Adeladja." Prussia's voice cut her off, as cold and sure as steel. "You came, and Poland knew what would happen. He didn't send you to Russia, where he knew Ivan would treat you only as a lady's companion for Ukraine or Belarus. He didn't send you to Austria, where he knew Hungary would look after you. Nein, he let Krakow go there and he let you come to Berlin, to be at my mercy. Why? Because Krakow would be safe, because she is his favorite sister." He studied her, eyes cool dark garnets.
"You're lying," Adeladja hissed. Even as she said the words, she felt chilled. "He couldn't control where I went! I had to come here to save him! You and Ivan were going to destroy him! I had to do it, I had to." She wept, disgusted with herself.
"You didn't have to, Liebling. You chose to, and he agreed to it. Feliks chose his life over your honor. If he really cared about you, he would have let only Krakow go to Vienna and kept you safe, even if it meant more suffering for him." Prussia looked at her and she was appalled at the pity in his eyes. "Poland has always been selfish, Adeladja. He has used Lithuania, Ukraine, and now you."
Adeladja breathed deeply, trying to calm her mind. Images of Feliks and Toris's arguments flashed in her mind; she recalled how frustrated Lithuania had often looked when her brother overruled him. Memories of Ukraine—sometimes yelling, often sobbing at some of her brother's arrogant laws and treatment—also appeared. She pushed back, trying to recall Feliks's own kindness and indulgence towards her, but the images seemed so brief and faded, she couldn't use them. "That is not true," she whispered. "That is not true. Feliks loves me, he gave me special privileges, he called me his Royal City—"
"But Krakow is his heart," Prussia said. She couldn't stand his soft voice, the serious, almost tender expression on his face. "Krakow is his heart," he repeated as she trembled, old fears emerging, "and he let her go to Vienna because he knew she would have an easy time there. But he didn't forbid you from coming to me, Adeladja, because he knew what you would face and he was fine with it."
Adeladja jumped from the bed and faced him. "Stop it, stop it!" She felt as angry as she had when her visit to Posen had gone badly. "You are a liar!" She stamped her foot and tore at her hair. "You're making this up, you have no proof!"
Prussia raised an eyebrow. "Really, Adeladja? Weren't you upset earlier because Posen told you that nations talked and wrote about you ? Don't you think we hear all sorts of things?" Adeladja froze, staring at him. "You do know I am on good terms with Russia and Austria, ja?" His cool garnet gaze bore into her.
She collapsed to the floor as she grasped what he meant. No letters from her siblings, Posen's insinuations, and now Prussia letting her know Russia and Austria had spoken to him about the situation. She trembled and her stomach turned as she began to wonder if he were actually telling the truth. If he were correct, then it would be unbearable. Adeladja recalled how close Elena and Feliks had been, so similar in appearance, tastes, and beliefs. She remembered the jokes the two had shared, the ability to finish each other's sentences; she had always assumed it was because Elena had been older than she and knew Feliks longer and better. She had never doubted that both had loved her as much as she did them, until now. She looked up at Prussia, expecting to see him smirking at her in triumph. But instead, he looked at her with such compassion, that if he had been any other nation, she would have crawled to him for comfort. Instead, something broke within her chest, and she began to moan, deep heaving sobs from a reservoir of despair that she didn't know had existed.
She watched through teary eyes as Prussia left the bed and sat down next to her. When he stroked her hair and rubbed her back, she didn't resist. She was too tired and devastated to resist any kindness from him.
After a few minutes, when she had dwindled down to occasional hiccups and sobs, Prussia finally spoke. "I didn't want to tell you that, Adeladja. Really, I didn't. But I couldn't let you live under an illusion anymore." She lay still as he petted her, drained and numb. "I fear I have been too harsh to you, Liebling," he said softly. "I have demanded too much of you, things you can't do."
She finally looked up at him. She had not expected to hear that sort of admission from him. Hope fluttered in her chest. "What do you mean, Gilbert?" She wondered if he had finally taken pity on her and would let her return permanently to her city.
"I mean, Adeladja, I shouldn't have expected you to be able to influence the mortals of West Prussia. I set you a task you weren't capable of doing, and I was angry when you failed." He sighed. "I realize now you just couldn't do it, that you can't control mortals to whom you have no connection."
Adeladja's head felt too congested and her brain too exhausted to understand. All she wanted was to be let alone to mourn. But Prussia's words bothered her. "You told me I could influence the West Prussian mortals because they were mine," she said slowly. "And now you're saying that I can't?"
He nodded sympathetically. "Ja, I misjudged you, Adeladja. I mean, you can influence Danzigers, but that's because you are like them. You've lived with them so long. But you have little in common with the West Prussian peasants." He looked into the distance and shrugged. "How could I expect a German entity to influence or control a bunch of Poles?"
Boże, not this again! Adeladja groaned and rested her aching head in her hands. The Rhineland, Posen, and now Prussia, all telling her she was something she wasn't. She remembered that Feliks warned her this would happen. But then she thought of what she had realized about him and her head pounded more fiercely. "I am Polish," she muttered. "You call me Polin all the time. And Feliks and Elena might hate me now, but they are still my siblings."
Prussia shook his head, as if he were about to point out a mortal child's poor logic. "When I call you Polin, it's because I am angry at you for being stubborn or defiant, Adeladja. It's meant to be an insult." She glowered at him as rage began to crawl back into her heart. He softened his voice and expression as he continued. "But let's face facts, Adeladja. Over 90% of your population is German. You have been filled with Germans for centuries, and they were always prominent among your leaders. You have belonged to me off and on over those centuries, and you have been mine for most of this one." She was about to answer him, but he waved at her. "Ja, you belonged to Poland for a little bit. He won you and treated you decently for awhile. But that doesn't make you his sister. Someone he treated like a sister, but not a real one. Why else would he let you come to me?" He looked meaningfully at her. She was too drained to go over the same territory they had just covered earlier. She just stared back, wishing for some peace.
Prussia edged closer to her and put his arm around her. He turned her head to face his. She wanted him to leave her alone, but she was too weak to struggle away. Besides, he was looking kindly at her, his eyes like burgundy wine. "Liebling," he whispered, "if you were truly a Polish entity, I would have executed you long ago. I would have let you fade away and waited for a pure German entity to appear in Danzig. But I didn't. Even when we first met and you bit me, I couldn't hate you. I sensed that you were meant to be mine, that we had something in common. I didn't want only the mortals, location and wealth of Danzig, I wanted you, Adeladja. I saw how different you were from Feliks, Elena, Boreslaw, and the other Polish entities; it was clear you were not really one of them, no matter how hard you tried or insisted otherwise. They knew you weren't one of them, and I knew also. And now you finally know, you see how easily they abandoned you."
Adeladja shook her head and refused to look at him. Her head was pounding; she had had her fill of all these male personifications telling her what she really was. "Please stop," she muttered. "I am so tired of all this, this has been a terrible day." She blinked to keep her tears at bay. Boże, must she be condemned to an existence of eternal weeping?
"Ach, Schatz, you have had a bad day, a very bad day." Prussia gathered her closer to him and began to rock her gently. The motion soothed her; even her earlier anger seemed ready to sleep. "Meine arme Mädchen, you have had a very bad day," he crooned as he pressed her head to his shoulder. "But it doesn't have to end badly. You have a new family who loves you, Adeladja, do you know that?" Her eyes flew open at his words.
"I don't have a new family," she snapped. "I have a family already, a Polish family!"
"A family who hates you and abandons you," Prussia replied crisply. At her startled face, he changed his tone. "Liebling, why do you insist on claiming to be part of history's losers, when a strong, ancient family, one that is rising to great power in the world, would be happy to claim you? Think of it, Adeladja," he urged, "Ludwig, the Empire himself, likes and respects you! Imagine having such a powerful entity as your devoted little brother! And Hanover, Rhineland, Schleswig, even Königsberg, would make more loyal, accepting sisters than Krakow! You would have so many loving, kind, strong siblings if you recognized what you truly are. And," his voice lowered as he hugged her closer, "You would have a lover who is the most powerful kingdom of all of them, devoted and generous to you. Isn't that better than attaching yourself to conquered cities and a nation that doesn't even exist on the map?"
Adeladja pulled away from him, repelled. "I am not your lover," she said as calmly as she could muster. "I am your hostage, your victim—"
"Don't be silly, Adeladja. That's not true."
She raised her head and voice." Jestem z Gdańska, miasta królewskiego miasta w Polsce, z własnymi prawami, Gdański Wilkierz, a ukochana siostra Polski."5 She glared defiantly at him.
Prussia stood up and backed away from her. For a second, she thought she had triumphed. But when she saw the hard, bright ruby eyes, she realized he was furious at her. She trembled, clutching at her nightgown's neck.
"Then Posen was right." Prussia's voice was cold with a brittle edge to it. "And you are a whore." She winced at the word. "You are a Polish whore, who has done the unforgivable act of sleeping with her brother's enemy for comfort." She opened her mouth to protest, but one hard glance from Prussia silenced her. "You are a terrible Pole, a terrible woman, and a terrible whore. And I have been too kind and patient with you for too long."
She panicked, fearing that his hands would move to his belt any moment. "Nein, nein, don't say those things!" She felt tears rising in her eyes. Boże, why must she cry so much?
"Nein, Adeladja, I will tell you the truth." Prussia looked down at her as if she were a disgusting creature. "A good girl, a good Polish girl like Krakow, would have set herself on fire before allowing herself to be touched by me, the diabeł pruski himself. But not you, Adeladja. You couldn't stand three months in Mecklenburg-Schwerin, because you are a lousy farm worker and a lazy whore who preferred comfort to her own dignity and her family."
"That's not true, not true!" She cried. She could feel her own throat closing down ,the tears beginning to fall over her lower lids.
"It is true, Adeladja, and you know it." Prussia's low, soft voice was more frightening than if he had yelled at her. "You chose warm, pretty rooms and clothes over loyalty to your so-called brother. Even he and dear, loyal Krakow know that and that is why they have rejected you."
"They have not! You are lying!" She could feel the snot trickling from her nose and mixing with the saliva that ran down her chin. She wiped her eyes and clenched her fist against her mouth to keep from wailing.
"Nein, Adeladja, the time for lies is over. I tried to give you a way out," she swore she heard his voice break, "I tried to offer you a better identity, and you stupidly, stubbornly refused it. You are a Polish whore, you belong to Prussia, and your siblings despise you."
"Bitte, don't say these things," she whimpered. She hoped there was some small shred of kindness left in him.
"It's true, Adeladja. You have forced me to agree with you." Prussia's voice was cold and controlled. "You are a whore and traitor, and I shall treat you as one."
"We had an agreement!" She wailed. "We would be kind to each other!" She gathered herself into a tight little ball to protect herself from any attacks. She shivered in dread. I deserve this, she despaired.
"You broke the agreement, Adeladja." His voice bore into her mind, twisting further with every word. She moaned and sobbed, clutching her head. "You have not been kind to me, and I will still take what I want. And if you resist, then you will know how I treat a whore who refuses service for payment."
She moaned and tensed herself in preparation for his grasp. But nothing happened. She dared to look up, sniffling. Prussia was strolling back to the bedroom door. Before he left, he turned to look at her. In the oil lamp's flickering light, his face was still and unreadable.
"One final word of advice." He said. "If you're going to be a whore, be a good one. Put France's courtesans to shame." He turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
Adeladja curled up on the floor. She had no strength left to get back to bed or even wipe her nose and eyes. She sobbed until she dry-heaved, and finally fell asleep, her last thought a prayer that she would never wake up.
So, yeah. What do you think of Prussia's statements and behavior in this chapter? Adeladja's? Is this merely hurt pride about a damaged reputation or does he touch on deeper fears? Yes, she cries a lot in this chapter, but I think it's warranted; this has been a very bad day for her. But don't worry, the time for crying is almost over and she will come up with a new tactic. One final thing: I get my Polish from Google Translate, which is not perfect, but all I have. If you can correct my Polish, I appreciate it. Thanks for reading, and I look forward to your reviews!
1 German: little mouse.
2 Polish: Poland is not yet dead/lost. The first line of the mazurka that became the Polish national anthem in the 20th century.
3 German: that asshole
4 Geliebte: German for lover (female), mistress, paramour. Maîtresse en titre: French for official mistress (literally "mistress in title")
5 Polish: I am the city of Danzig, a Royal City of Poland, with my own laws, Gdansk law, and Poland's beloved sister.
