Chapter Text
Gilbert felt more alive when he was in Berlin. It was the capital of the Prussian Empire, even though it was now the capital of Germany. As he trekked down Littenstrasse, he looked for the place that Elizaveta said that she rented. I got Burg Hohenzollern and Liz decides to go cheap? Then again, she made sure that the place was warm, dry, and close to the remains of the city wall. If she could get right up to the Köpenick gate, she would.
The timing was all wrong, of course. The raid was in October, not January. He was there, after all. However, Lizzie got it into her head as a birthday present for him, and Gilbert was not going to refuse gifts. It was better than being smacked by a frying pan. And if she wanted to use a meaningless raid as the pretext, well, she isn't fighting as much as she used to.
She never did tell him where General András Hadik was. Even when Old Fritz passed on, even when the Prussian Empire was no longer a threat, she dodged all questions. She didn't even tell him where Hadik died until the 1920s. As far as she was concerned, there was still a price on Hadik's head, and she never betrayed a fellow soldier and Magyar.
He didn't care, really. It was just a way to get under her skin. If only she didn't get under his skin so often.
"General Rotzow, those Magyar horse dicks will fall before me! I can take them on!"
"No, Herr Beilschmidt. They know what you did to Austria. They may do worse things to you. Get in. We're going to Spandau."
He remembered that he was going to retort, that they weren't all outnumbered, that he knew Liz better than anyone. Then panic swept over him, his heart pounding. He could feel his head pounding, like cannons against walls. I am the great Prussia and will not faint, he thought as he stumbled.
General Rotzow caught him by his elbows. He lifted him up and pushed him into the carriage. None of the Royal Family said a word. Gilbert held his head into his hands, willing the headache to go away. His will wasn't strong enough against the pain.
Gilbert came to the place and unlocked the door. He only got a glimpse of Hungary before she covered his mouth and yanked him inside.
Her other arm locked around his arms, and she marched down the hallway. Prussia tried to drag his feet, but saw that he was a few millimeters off the ground. He then tried to break out of her hold, but she pulled him closer.
They came into a room, and Elizaveta dropped Gilbert on the ground. She slammed the door, and he could take in his surroundings. He could only see a chair and a box on the bare floor. He could smell candlewax and feel Elizaveta slip his coat off. Yes, he was not in uniform. He was wearing what he wore in Berlin: a dark blue coat, a plain shirt (no cravat unlike princeling here, he thought), a vest, breeches, hose, and boots. OK, he wore military boots. He polished them enough that he ought to wear them. He wore a long black coat over this, so that he wouldn't get embarrassing questions about if he was going to a costume party or if he was a reenactor.
"I knew that you would be in the crowd," Hungary said in a matter-of-fact tone. Never mind that wasn't how it went. It didn't matter. She loomed over him, and he mentally calculated how long to wait before he tackled her.
She walked away before he could put it into practice. "We caught another troublesome person."
"Où suis-je?" Prussia knew that pleasant whisper anywhere. Sure, they all talked about it, having Skype calls about the details. He was always given the option to back out, no questions asked. Prussia thought that Austria and Hungary consider him a boy to coddle, much like Feliciano. Though Gilbert knew that Matthew was a grown man, he admitted that he wasn't sure that he would enjoy reacting old battles with sexual twists.
"I stormed Normandy. I fought at Vimy Ridge. Do you really think that I don't know what war is about?"
"You didn't grow up in a time when it wasn't enough to defeat your enemy. That you had to destroy him. You had to use him up and grind him down."
"Gil, I get the feeling that you were doing all the grinding down willingly."
"Well, all right, I did like that part."
The room is lit up with candlelight, and Gilbert blinked. It was Mattie, dressed in French uniform (maybe he got it from Francis) and tied to a chair. Someone as awesome as himself would never say it out loud, but his heart pounded, fearing that it would be too much for the younger nation. Austria was standing over him, fixing a dispassionate gaze onto Mattie. His uniform was immaculate. Considering the number Prussia does on them, maybe he has more than one. Yet, Mattie is quiet. Gilbert worried that he forgot the safeword. He may have to check before it goes too much further.
"What's he doing here?"
Matthew, for his part, blinked as if confused. Of course, Canada, then a little boy called New France, was nowhere near Berlin. He had his own terrors, like the Grand Derangement and the French and Indian War. The men he would call Papa and Dad battled over his body while Berlin had their scare. They had to make up a story for him.
Hungary smirked. "Caught him trying to fight off the soldiers. I think that he was on leave, but he managed to wrest a sword from one of them. I had to knock him down. Boy seems to have more guts than all of Berlin."
She stopped her smirking and stared hard at Prussia. "He won't mention a word, but he called your human name throughout the fight. How would a Frenchman know this?"
"Pardonnez-moi, Mademoiselle Hongrie". Prussia and Hungary snapped up to look at him.
"I am an Acadian." Gilbert's heart stopped pounding. Canada was not quite a country in those days, and 'Canadian' was the safeword for the four of them.
Old Fritz asked him to stay. He would have marched into Silesia to keep Austria from getting back his vital regions. However, the children needed instruction, and Gilbert had a unwritten price on his head. If anyone else told him to stay behind Berlin, he would have laughed at them.
But here he is again in Berlin, with a vindictive Hungarian pacing around him, an Austrian judging him from a safe distance, and a Canadian tied to a chair. He hoped that she would get him cake after all this is over.