Versailles, January 1871.

Gilbert stared in the eyes of the man in the mirror, growing more enamored with each passing second. The medals and badges pinned lovingly to his Waffenrock gleamed in the light, accentuated further by his puffed-out chest. His posture, although perfectly straight, had a domineering swagger to it, as if he truly believed himself to possess the whole world. And there, as always, was that ever-present smirk. How much bigger it now seemed, how hungrier still, like a wolf before its favorite meal.

He winked at himself, straightening his hair then disheveling it again just so. Had he ever looked this good? On any dates, on any diplomatic something-or-other? The closest would have been his coronation, one hundred and seventy years exactly. He remembered that day in Königsberg in brilliant technicolor, as if by reaching out he could blot out the grandeur of Versailles for the humility of home and Friedrich's dynastic ambitions.

It was not the first time Prussia had marveled at how far he'd come in such a short amount of time. Despite his antics, he was not the buffoon he played in courts and bars. He knew how luck had favored him, how he had clawed a place for himself amongst the envious old guard. Every victory and every advancement of his station gave him cause to reflect, but no day put the disparity in such vivid contrast like today.

He spun around on his heel, marching over to the glass of champagne he'd left unattended. The bubbles collided against one another, each making their furtive journey to the top. How many scrapes had he been in to get here? How many times had he needed to get his hands dirty, had done so with unparalleled enthusiasm? Silesia, Danzig, Schleswig-Holstein, Elsaẞ-Lothringen; each was a steppingstone culminating in this moment. He raised his drink and downed it in one. Happy birthday to him.

A weak knock at the door roused Gilbert from his besotted stupor. "Come in!"

Ludwig trudged in, head down and shoulders rolled forward. The boy had recently undergone another growth spurt, finally putting him in the body of a fully grown man. While it had occurred months ago, by the way he moved, he was still becoming used to his new size. "This is overwhelming."

Gilbert smiled, an easy chuckle escaping him. "What do you mean? It's just you, me, and a hundred of our closest diplomats."

Ludwig threw his hands up and began to pace the room. "I'm the reason they're here. What if I sneeze during the ceremony? Or I fall when climbing up the stairs? Or trip going down? Or try and make a joke during my speech and all I get is a pity laugh from you?"

Gilbert bit his lip, watching this play out in front of him. "Don't tell jokes. You don't perform well under pressure."

"Can't you ever take anything seriously!" Ludwig's voice cracked and he clamped his hands over his mouth, eyes bugging out. "Oh my God, I can't give a speech. I sound like a teenager! I'm thirty-six!"

Gilbert poured them each a glass of champagne, shaking his head all the while. "Lutz, one of these days you'll worry yourself to death. You need to shore up your constitution if you're going to survive today."

With a trembling hand, Ludwig took the glass that was offered to him. "My constitution, God not that! Bavaria still hasn't ratified anything so how can it be – you mean my health?" Now no longer able to meet Gilbert's gaze, he opted to study the floor instead. "How are you so calm?"

"Because I've been through the pomp and circumstance before. Meanwhile, this is your first time going through all the rigmarole." Gilbert cracked open his box of cigars, putting one in his mouth and offering another to Ludwig. He couldn't help but smile when the boy accepted. "You'll feel better when you stop letting yourself get swept up in how grand it all feels."

Ludwig slouched, spinning the cigar in his fingers. "You've been telling me today's my big day though."

"And it is," Gilbert smiled, imbuing his voice with all the warmth and affection for the kid he could muster. "But humans, well, they're fundamentally selfish. To them, you're an ideal. A handsome ideal, one worth fighting and dying for, but they'll be busy giving all the glory to themselves. Patting themselves on the back for this maneuver or that diplomatic overture, congratulating Wilhelm on the new title. You know, their usual horseshit."

"So then why are we here?"

There was a question Gilbert had been trying to answer his whole life. "To remind them what they're supposed to do this for, keep them in touch with the people. But, really, we're here as decorative set-pieces or however Erzsi says it." He wrapped his arm around Ludwig, pulling the boy tight into him. "You look upset. Don't be. Someday very soon, all of these people will be dead and the only people left to remember today will be us. It's still your day, just to the people that matter and isn't that less pressure?"

Ludwig nodded his head, a little smile breaking free at the corner of his mouth. "I guess it does in a way." He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves for what was soon to follow. "I don't have to overperform for them. Focus on me and the family, that's all I need to make it special. I can do this."

"Damn right you can," Gilbert patted him on the back, propelling Ludwig forward. "Now, get out there and enjoy all this. We're throwing one expensive party for you."

"You're not coming?"

"I'll be out in a minute. You deserve some time mingling with everyone without the old man lingering." Only once Ludwig's hand touched the doorknob did he remember something he sorely needed to say. "I'm proud of you, Lutz, I always am."

Ludwig's jaw shook before being clamped into a tight little smile. His eyes blinked furiously, pushing back the emotions that threatened to release. "See you soon out there," he spoke, dipping his head and exiting the room.

Gilbert barely had time alone with his thoughts before Brandenburg had joined him, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. His posture had the same ram-rod stiffness as Gilbert's own yet lacked all the trademark arrogance of his brother. "There you are. The king's carrying on the same as yesterday. The crown prince and Bismarck have been trying to manage the storm, as have I when I haven't been looking for you."

"I've been busy! Fatherhood's very demanding; the kid's always a bundle of nerves. Besides, Otto will arm twist the king into doing whatever we want, what do you need me for?"

"To do your job and not sit on your laurels," Georg sighed and pulled out his pocket watch. "You can celebrate after the ceremony. Until then, Wilhelm is guaranteeing that there are no certainties. Which means you should leave this room and join me and the rest of the ministers."

Gilbert puffed out a cloud of smoke, rolling his eyes as he bounded across the room. "Because what you're all arguing over doesn't matter. German Emperor, Emperor of Germany; at the end of the day, he's still Kaiser!" He pulled his uniform jacket down, making it tighter to his body and turned himself around in the mirror. "Jörg, be honest with me, do I look like I've filled out more? Like there's something about me that's even more striking?"

Behind his back, Georg's hands balled and re-balled into fists. Despite his hidden gesturing, his tone was measured. "Do I look like your woman?"

"If I'm drunk enough and the lightings poor enough, you never know!" Gilbert tipped his head back, cackling with mad glee at his ribald joke. He shrugged off Georg's practiced silence and sauntered over to the man. "You can't be so dour all the time. Be like me. You think I'm going to let the mood of some aging puppet put a damper on my day? You're too attached to these people."

"This isn't about attachment, but responsibility. We've had this discussion before, I'm not looking to reprise it now." Georg studied him, observed the way he carried himself with an air of impenetrability. As if he were the one being crowned emperor today, not Wilhelm. Bile pushed up into his mouth. He swallowed it. "Today doesn't belong to any one of us alone, but to all of us. Before you go out there, you should remember how to be a gracious winner. We can't rush into wars with the others on your whims anymore."

Gilbert narrowed his eyes, slowly retracting the cigar from its place in his mouth. "Without me, you'd still be the battleground of empires. I think you'd be wise to remember that yourself."

Georg's eyebrows shot up and he stared at Gilbert with new eyes. "Since I took you in, I have been nothing but considerate to you. You were right, the others sneered at you for being some backwater bumpkin, but I took you seriously. I have stood beside you and been proud to see you evolve from a man out of his depth to one comfortable swimming amongst the sharks. Do not let your ego blind yourself now to a partnership – to a friendship, Gilbert – that we both treasure."

"You know damn well what today means to me, what it represents! The show will go on, Wilhelm will do what he must, so why should I wring my hands with the rest of them? We've spent a century working for this and now you've got the balls to lecture me for enjoying it too much? Fuck them all, this is about us! And if that imbecilic prick of a boss we've got is too much of a pussy to seize the day, then call me Kaiser!"

The whole time he spoke, Georg chewed on the inside of his cheek. What was there to say to this tantrum? What could be done to snap him out of it? All that it filled him with was a sense of déjà vu, that he had seen this all play out before except with Roderich as its star. He did not need to remind himself how, exactly, that ended.

Instead, Georg held open the door for the man who he had helped mold into this beast. He forced his thin mouth into a tight smile. "I'll put out the fires, then. The ceremony needs its peacock."

Gilbert fixed his clothing for the last time and Prussia entered the Hall of Mirrors. If he hadn't spent the last days furtively checking and rechecking every decoration, he would've been stunned at the sublime beauty of it all. Even the altar – that blasted thing he had been so adamant against, yet Bismarck had forced him to concede to – had a certain begrudging beauty to it.

He plucked a glass of champagne off a tray proffered by one of the many servants making the rounds. Various ambassadors and minor dukes filled the room, clustering their heads together to better discuss their affairs. As he brushed past them, Gilbert smiled and nodded their way. He did not bother to stop and chat as their opinions were not what this day hinged upon. They were nameless, faceless hordes; their careers would be short, ordinary, with no meaningful record left behind.

He spied someone worth his while standing in the corner of the room. Mousy brown hair, a dress of modest cut yet ornate decoration, there was only one woman that could be. Licking his lips, Gilbert rushed towards her, appearing so suddenly at her side that he gave her a start. "Sachsen," his voice boomed, "there you are!"

"Preuẞen," Charlotte spoke curtly. Her lips pursued together as it became clear that her companion had no intentions of leaving her side so soon. "What could you possibly want from me?"

"To see you of course! It feels like the only time I get to spend with you is whenever I'm invading. I'm going to be at a loss without our little battles anymore. Campaigns won't feel the same if I can't systematically humiliate you first."

Charlotte rapped her fingernails against the bottom of her glass. "Mm, you'll find your North Star again. If I know you – which I unfortunately do – I feel sure that you have plenty of other enemies whose blood you must routinely spill." Summoning all her strength with a silent prayer, she forced out a polite smile. "Feel better for gloating? Run along now. There's so many of us you've yet to make miserable."

"Don't worry, I don't want to spend more time around you than I have to." Gilbert laughed, crimson eyes gaining a malicious glint to them. "But I would feel so improper if I didn't ask a lady how she's holding up after all these misfortunes. You side with Maria Theresa and that goes horribly. Then you side with Napoleon and betray all of Germany that way. Then you side with Austria again and-"

The air chilled around them. The blue of her eyes hardened into frigid steel. "Make your point."

"The point is all that fighting and for what? All those years of being worried about getting annexed and what happens? You're still in my bed." He paused, lowering the glass that was about to touch his lips. "Metaphorically, of course. I wouldn't fuck a scold."

"Principles, Gilbert. It's always been about principles. You know what those are, don't you? They're those causes you pick up and then discard when they no longer suit you." She jutted her chin forward, eyes meeting his own in challenge. "You think you can embarrass me here? Humiliate me before all these people we know? Looking for me to tremble before you or perhaps throw myself at your mercy?"

"No, of course not! We all know the only time you get on your knees is if the Lord himself wills it."

She set her empty glass delicately on the tray that passed them by. She folded her hands before her lap and shook her head. "All you are is a bully. You've gotten everything you've wanted, everything you've demanded, and still you're not satisfied. You mock me for my piety, yet you have nothing to guide you but your own megalomania. You may think me a fool, but I have meaning in my life that cannot be ripped away by man's caprices. I have the Lord, yes, and I paint and write and create. You're a war-dog, a hound hellbent on destroying. There's a fool here, but it's not me."

Gilbert's mouth twitched into a grimace. "I have more than my state. I've built a family!"

"Right, the son who you don't properly acknowledge and the woman whose another man's wife. Silly me, how could I forget. You certainly would never let us." Charlotte curtsied, a self-satisfied smile upon her face. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there's others I'd rather speak to."

Gilbert forced the venom back down his throat, forced himself to not go chasing after her and cause a scene. Today he could not allow himself to be feckless, could not allow himself to make his hostility to decorum widely and painfully known. All she had was words anyway. What real power could she claim to hold over him? She could have this minor victory, this one-off gift of generosity.

With his head firmly on straight, he could properly work the room. It was mindless tedium, as always. People asking for favors, meetings, money. He loathed the ass-kissing, despised their empty words and meaningless praises. Each of them repeated the same stock sentiments over and over, not a genuine expression of feeling flowing from a single one of them. For creatures with such short lives, he didn't understand why one would decide to dedicate a lifetime to flattery. Considering how vacuous they all looked behind the eyes, he doubted that even they understood their choices.

As he was reaching his limit, reprieve found Gilbert. Otto von Bismarck pushed through the throngs of people, parting the crowds as he made his determined way to Prussia. Finding his state, he yanked him by the elbow back the way he had come. His only explanation was a gruff, "It's time."

Prussia stumbled back onto his feet, pushing the chancellor off him. "You couldn't have done that normally? I was talking to some important people! They were…" he trailed off, desperately racking his brain for who they said they were. "Franconian? Whatever, they don't matter. I guess this means his highness stopped throwing his royal tantrum or did you eventually give up and put him down for a nap first?"

Beneath his heavy brows, Bismarck rolled his eyes. He had heard Gilbert's jabs at this king – and all those but one who came before Wilhelm – many a time before. At this point, the man considered them to be as rote a part of the job as addressing the Landtag or girding the military for war. "We've settled on the semantic issue, yes. Although now he is refusing to speak or even look at me."

Gilbert brushed that off with a simple flick of his wrist. "He always comes crawling back to you. Who knows, the relationship could always be better after a fight." He winked at Bismarck with that damn smirk on his lips. "Always spices mine right up."

The chancellor refused to deign that with a response, opting instead to ignore Prussia as he snickered at his crude insinuations. Not for the first time, he longed to cane some sense into Gilbert. Bringing them to their place at the front of the room beside Ludwig, he would have to settle for words once more. "Mind yourself until this is over. I have served you loyally. Make my job easier for one day."

Gilbert smiled up at the chancellor, placing a hand on Ludwig's shoulders. He gave him a wink, so quick it was almost imperceptible. "And put him through that, on today of all days? You insult me."

A hush settled over the room and out stepped Wilhelm and his coterie on the altar. Gilbert watched the proceedings in rapture. Here, at last, was the culmination of all his labors. Here, at last, was the recognition he had struggled vainly for. It was his king that would be first amongst them all, his heart that would beat alongside Germany's own, his will and might that would propel the nation forward. All those wars, all those humiliations, it had all had finally amounted to something.

He passively listened to Bismarck and Ludwig's speeches. What did he need to hear from them? He had heard the nationalistic rhetoric before anyone, had put his pulse on the current when he'd commandeered Ludwig's birth before the boy even had a state of his own. No one needed to tell him what Germany would stand for and how it would be defended when it had been Gilbert who had set the terms. It had been Gilbert who had put his men and their blood to its creation.

No, he needed no lectures. Not when he had more lessons to give than anyone here. It was he who'd birthed a son from a corpse. It was he who'd cobbled a home for himself out of disparate lands; it was he who forged the boy's inheritance from acrimonious states. And it was he who would lead them all into this brave new world of his own design. How bright it all seemed, how ripe for the taking.

As the assembled cheered for the emperor, it was Gilbert's voice whose rose above them all.