A Hearth
The Wedding Night
1867
When they finally escape the church square, and get into their own carriage, Gilbert is clawing at what remains of his composure. The moment he draws the heavy curtains over the windows and blocks out the light is the moment Ludwig clambers into his lap. Prussia kisses his brother's hair silently, again and again until he stops and simply allows Ludwig to curl up against him. They ride for hours, only stopping to switch out horses until they reach the German border. From there, they board a private train car and Ludwig is rocked to sleep by the sway of the rails until they reach home after night has fallen.
Home was the Stadtschloss for now, but Gilbert and Ludwig only lived in a few rooms, cut off from couriers and all but a few servants and staff. Gilbert was asleep, sprawled out on top of the covers on the large four poster bed. He was fully dressed. Outside, storms battered and tore at the walls, but Gilbert slept through it. He had downed mug after mug of beer and had not stopped until he'd toppled over on the bed and sent the stein flying. It smashed over the floor and he didn't care. For now, he didn't give a damn if Berlin was being lashed by a thunderstorm. If Elizaveta was riding Roderick and gripping the sheets with white knuckled fists, he didn't care. If he was sticky with the beer that had sloshed and dried over his skin, he didn't care. If there were tear streaks on his face, he certainly didn't give a damn. There was only the soft black of alcohol-induced sleep.
Gilbert woke slowly, vaguely aware of panic but he was too dull to care about it. But when he managed to open his eyes, everything was throbbing and his vision flashed scarlet before his ears were pierced by shrieking.
"Brudder!" Ludwig called for him like a child should have called for his mother. Gilbert swung off the bed before he could sit up properly and scooped a pale Ludwig into his arms. He bounced his knee and rocked a little, tucking the blonde head under his chin.
"Shush- please shush, its alright, its alright." That usually quieted Ludwig, but the shrieking heightened into a keen wailing that twisted at Gilbert's insides. Gilbert felt the familiar panic of inadequacy and bit his lip.
"What's wrong, West? I can't fix it if I don't know what's wrong!" He snapped. Ludwig whimpered and Gilbert winced, stomach plummeting. Something warm and thick drips into Gilbert's leg and he smells copper before he sees blood.
"France! France- He killed m-me!" Ludwig's voice shakes and fear tears through them both. Gilbert kills his own at the bud and fury takes its place. He stands up, arms steady under and against his brother.
"Its okay. He can't hurt you. He can't hurt you." Gilbert tries to sooth. France is no match for him now, and Gilbert is plenty capable of wielding a blade one handed if he needs to keep Ludwig in the other, but Gilbert takes a step and glass crunches under his boots. He gets a flash of the stein slipping from his clammy hands and both brothers go still.
After a moment, Gilbert rinses the cuts on his brothers feet and the bleeding stops on its own accord. Ludwig was not heavy enough, nor unlucky enough to step directly on the glass so there are no deep gashes in his feet. When he's finished with that, Gilbert places Ludwig on the bed and Ludwig curls into a ball while Gilbert peels off layers until he is in his shirt-sleeves and pants. He pulls the sheets back and Ludwig rolls under the covers. Gilbert follows and then encircles Ludwig in his arms. He's shaky and drunk and a terrible brother, but the kiss he places to Ludwig's forehead head has to be enough, because its all he's got to give of himself right now.
Gilbert wakes with a gasp, silently screaming for his brother. The tang of blood is heavy in his mouth and the horror of their own blood being spilled is still branded into the backs of his eyelids. It is dawn now and gold light is streaming through the windows dressed in nothing but gauzy curtains but Gilbert doesn't care. He pulls the curtains of the four poster and curls around Ludwig again to sleep. They both need this. He needs to know that Ludwig is safe in his arms. He needs to know that bestowing his Kingdom will be enough. He needs to know that his Kingdom can be forged into an Iron Empire for the new heir. He doesn't know yet, so he takes Ludwig's warm weight onto himself. It fills the place that needs the answers. Soon enough, he will have them. Soon enough, they will go to war. Soon enough, politics will have no place in his brother's future. Soon enough, Ludwig will have all that is Gilbert's.