"My dear friend! I am very pleased you accepted my invitation."

"But of course. Who could refuse such a charming and most generous host?"

"You think too much of this host, dear friend."

Gilbert had enough, leaving the room swiftly and without another word. Well, this sucked. It seemed as if he would be hard-pressed for any sort of attention from his dear king now.

Voltaire had accepted the invitation. Voltaire had come to stay and live here, in THEIR beautiful Sanssouci. And Fritz seemed so damn happy about it too.

Well of course. He did invite him.

Where was he to go now? The large gardens sprawled out before him. It wasn't quite Autumn yet, so there were still some green leaves on the trees and everything was still in bloom.

Damn it not even the gardens were soothing his temper. As if it wasn't bad enough for him to be so idle...Now he didn't even have Friedrich's company to kill time.

It wasn't as if his dear king was...entirely loyal to his 'kingdom'. Gilbert knew very well of the lovers his king kept, handsome young, intelligent men who absolutely adored their great king. But Gilbert also knew that these men were just that...They were lovers, but they did not have Friedrich's love.

Prussia had never been sure just who or what had earned this love. He knew very well that Friedrich did everything for his country and people, but was Prussia really his true love? Probably not. It had always been the Arts, music and philosophy and poetry, which drew his attention and precious time.

So did the artists who created that which Friedrich admired. And one of the most admired ones was this Voltaire, this vile Frenchman who'd come to stay for good.

So Gilbert couldn't really complain about him being French, after all the court language of Prussia was now French, though he himself preferred his own native German. It just felt more natural. Besides, he was not very...elegant in the French language. Francis sure had made fun of him enough times to know that.

But Friedrich used it daily and with everyone, including him. He didn't mind that Gilbert answered him in German, though he always looked a little disappointed. He didn't find the German language very elegant or sophisticated.

In general, Gilbert had the feeling Friedrich would have much rather been French than Prussian. The French liked their arts, their philosophy, their poetry. They were all about beauty and elegance.

Prussia was a militant country. Sure, he was improving, starting to build a bit of a culture. They even had some young German poets! But Friedrich had absolutely no interest in them. Didn't even deem them worth a read.

This...kind of hurt. It was as if Prussia...as if Gilbert was never good enough for his elegant king. Of course, a nation such as himself would never show something so weak as emotional pain. And it wasn't as if Friedrich didn't love him.

They slept together often enough for Gilbert to know that. Fritz didn't cuddle with anyone else and that too made it a little less painful for Gilbert.

But Voltaire was here now. In the flesh. Always able to dazzle Friedrich with his fancy French arts and turning the spotlight away from the person who should always be the king's main priority; Prussia.

Oh what was the point? Gilbert snapped out of his musings when he'd reached the stables. The stable-hand sweeping the yard eyed him with curiousity. Usually the king's top general accompanied him everywhere, but today the pale man seemed to be alone.

Gilbert returned the curious gaze. The stable-hand wasn't terribly bad-looking...

"Dear friend, would you excuse me until the evening meal? I am afraid I still have some important business to take care of."

Friedrich didn't really want to leave the library. It was so comfortable here, exchanging intellectual mind-gold with Voltaire. The real live Voltaire! No longer just a friend he wrote to!

The French writer eyed him with a little amusement. He seemed to know exactly what the king had to attend to. They may only have spent most of the day talking of the arts, but he had noticed a certain affection in the king's voice regarding...

"Your pale friend?"

"Gilbert, yes. I am afraid he may feel a little lonesome now..."

So, with his excuse standing, Friedrich set out to find the personification of his kingdom. He felt bad, this was true. He knew Gilbert didn't much like it when his king ignored him, especially in favour of someone else. A childish, yet endearing quality of his lover. And yes, Friedrich thought of Gilbert as his lover, not just his kingdom. One he shared a much deeper connection to, even if they didn't have much in common.

It was much like taming a shrew, his life with Gilbert. The militant, war-hungry nation had many difficulties settling down to a cultured life here in Sanssouci. Friedrich had been patient, had paid lots of attention to his kingdom's needs. He'd even attempted to teach Gilbert how to play flute and had found the albino quite talented.

Said talented albino had instantly put the flute away and refused to ever play again when Fritz had dared suggest he might be as musically talented as Austria.

Always a mistake to mention Roderich, Fritz should have known that.

He gave a small sigh. He loved his Gilbert so dearly. He just wished that the albino wouldn't take everything so hard and could just enjoy a quiet life with him.

Soon enough, he had found his dear kingdom. In the yard of the stable, seemingly fighting with what looked like a stable-boy. The pale nation was grinning as the boy tried pointlessly to hit him with a broom.

How cruel. As if the poor lad had a chance against Gilbert...

What on earth could Fritz do to soothe Gilbert's apparently relentless boredom?

It didn't used to be like this. Way before, when he'd just become king in Prussia, it had never been like this...

~1740~

"Oh yes, my king really, really likes this," he mocked, teeth nipping at the skin of Friedrich's neck, a hot, wet tongue licking languishly along what belonged to him now. Prussia was very much enjoying this too.

Making Friedrich his king felt damn hot and damn right.

The inexperienced young man beneath him wasn't able to think that far, lust had pretty much consumed his mind and body. He was winding in Gilbert's arms, wanting more of his touches, more of his voice, just more of him in general.

He'd never felt so aroused in his life. Something the albino was doing was really, really intoxicating for Friedrich, who's usually pale cheeks were dusted with a fine blush.

A pale hand had wrapped around his, vital regions, driving him slowly insane with pleasure and pain. It seemed the albino found it amusing to hear him moan, then wince as he pinched that overly sensitive skin.

All in all, it definitely felt like Gilbert was playing with him, though his pale body betrayed some lust of his own.

Friedrich was growing impatient. He wanted this to go further, he wanted them to get closer and he definitely wanted more intoxicating pleasure to be given to him. He dared to voice his desires.

"Please...more! Please...my kingdom..."

And this definitely seemed to perk Gilbert up. His red eyes lit up with mischief, his smirk became unbearably smug. No one should be able to look that smug!

Especially not when one had one's hand wrapped around his new king's rather hard member.

Gilbert continued his slow pumps, but now he began sliding down, making himself some space between Friedrich's legs, parting them almost obscenely.

This only caused Friedrich's face to turn even redder, but what the embodiment of Prussia told him next just left him speechless.

"You make a damn pretty whore for me, my little king."

This man was a devil! Who dared speak this way to their monarch?

However, before he could even think of an answer to this, he felt those devilish pale fingers penetrate him and begin their dance of seduction.

Any thoughts of a retort immediately left his head. This was just too good to ruin with scolding words.

"Moan for me, my pretty little king."

Once again he obeyed the gravely, rough voice. The pale fingers inside of him had found a certain spot anyway, so he didn't have much choice. Though he clamped his hand over his mouth for decency's sake.

He couldn't just let himself go entirely, could he?

But Prussia seemed determined to make him melt, because he covered his lips in a passionate, rough kiss that allowed no resistance.

Okay, so decency had just left him as well as dignity...He moaned into the albino's mouth, wondering how many other virtues of his were going to vanish in this night.