Iron Blooded

“Where some states have an army, the Prussian Army has a state.” An independent rp blog for the representative of Prussia, very loosely based on Hetalia. DISCLAIMER: I play him as a villain. See more in the rules secition. Follows from mauerfrau.

[ironbloodedprussian]

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Here's a pinned post with Gilbert's info site, finally.

Gilbert

Landing page for Ironbloodedprussian

[mauerfrau]

The Best Gift

A/N: I felt like writing a story for Lily's birthday. Something very sweet and wholesome happens in it, but I won't spoil it here. Read more is for length.

Lily stood patiently just outside of her apartment building, waiting. The invitation from her father for lunch on her birthday had come two weeks prior, but she was still a bit surprised by it. Normally, he would just come by briefly to the party she was throwing in the evening, give her her gift, and leave. But lately, well, he had been acting differently towards her. 

Although he was still the stiff and stern Prussian she’d known all her life, he didn’t have quite the same edge around her anymore. He wasn’t so harsh. She didn’t fear him in the same way anymore either. No longer was he, “Herr Beilschmidt,” or even, “Herr Vater,” to her, but rather he’d become her, “Papa.” It was strange, especially since no one else was getting this kind of treatment from him. But she supposed no one else loved him in quite the way she did, and he must have known that. 

The sight of the familiar blue Mercedes-Benz coming around the corner brought her out of her contemplations. She smoothed the front of her dark blue, knee length skirt and cream colored blouse, and instinctively touched the diamond and sapphire headband in her hair. When the car pulled to a stop in front of her, she smiled and sat down inside of it. 

“Hello, Papa,” she said brightly. As he turned to look at her with a slight smile, she noticed that his tie was…green? She had never seen him wear a green tie before. It was always blue or black. Why would he suddenly wear green?

“Hello, my dear,” he said in reply, “and happy birthday.” 

“Thank you. So, where are we going?” she asked as he pulled away from the curb. “Your invitation only said to dress nicely.”

“I am aware. I wrote it myself. You will see when we get there. It is not too far.” 

Lilianne leaned back in her seat and looked out the window. As he drove down the streets she knew so well, she started to form a hypothesis of where they would end up. The closer they got to it, the more convinced she was that she was right. And indeed, when he parked in front of it, she was proven correct.

“The Rutz? You’re taking me to The Rutz?” 

“Of course. Is there something wrong with that?”

“Oh no, not at all. I’m just surprised. I never expected that for my birthday. I’m excited.”

“Good. You know I like to do only the best, of course, especially for my daughter.” 

Lilianne smiled bashfully and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. 

The Prussian opened his car door and stepped out. Before Lilianne could open hers, he had walked around to it and opened it for her. She was surprised again, but kept it to herself this time. They walked into the restaurant side-by-side. 

When they entered, her father gave his name to the host for the reservation. After checking the list, the other man nodded. “Right this way, Herr Beilschmidt. I have you on the terrace, just as you requested.” He led them up the stairs to the second floor and out onto a beautiful balcony, then sat them down at a table for two. There were a few other lunch goers, but it was not overly crowded at the moment. 

“Will you be having the wine as well today?” asked the staff member.

“Yes,” replied Herr Beilschmidt right away, giving no time for contemplation. 

“Very good, sir.” He walked back in to have the kitchen start their food and to retrieve their first wine.

Lilianne looked around. “It’s beautiful up here,” she said. 

“It is. And I know how much you love being up high to look down at your city.” 

She blushed and smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear again. “I do. This is awfully nice of you, Papa. Thank you.” 

He smiled as he rested his cane against the table. “You’re very welcome. But perhaps don’t thank me until the end. There is still more to come.” 

“More?” 

He chuckled quietly. “Yes, but I won’t tell you what.” 

“Not even a hint?”

He shook his head. 

“Am I to be on edge with excitement all of lunch then?”

“That is entirely up to you, dear. Personally, I would suggest you relax and enjoy the food and wine. Let the future come when it does.” 

She smiled sheepishly and nodded. She looked around the beautiful terrace and took in all the smells around her. Then, she noticed her father staring at her with a fond smile. She looked back at him, the curiosity evident in her eyes. 

“Is everything quite alright?” she asked. 

“Yes. I was just thinking, how much you remind me of your mother. You look so much like her. And she was observant of things too, just as you are.” 

Lilianne felt a warmth spread up her cheeks. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t talk about her much. But when you do, your voice grows softer, and you smile more. Did you love her?” 

Her father stared at her, and she worried she had asked the wrong question. But before either of them could say anything, the first of the food and wine arrived, distracting them from the conversation at hand. When the staff disappeared, Herr Beilschmidt changed the subject. 

“So, you turn 81 today. It’s not a landmark number, but it is still a nice one. I’m glad to see you’ve made it this far. And I hope to see you make it even further.” 

“Thank you. I hope I can last at least as long as you have.” 

He chuckled and then took a bite of his food. “I’m sure you will,” he said after swallowing, “After all, you have my blood and determination in you. I’ve seen you rise to many challenges and overcome them already in your short time here so far. I am certain you will be able to accomplish at least that much, if not more.” 

“Thank you. It means a lot to me to hear you say that. And I’m sure with your guidance, I will prosper.”

He raised an eyebrow. “My dear, it is your birthday, not mine. You do not need to flatter me.” 

“Erm, yes, Papa, of course.” 

They continued to eat. When the appetizer plates were being taken away and replaced with the main food, she spoke again.

“May I ask, what were you like when you were my age? What did you get up to?”

Her father looked at her, then looked past her, as though reliving a long, distant memory. 

“I was still a young child then, physically and otherwise. However, the Teutonic Knights had by then established themselves in Europe and in the area that was once occupied by the Old Prussians. I was often fighting with pagans.” 

“Could you already ride a horse by yourself then? Did you have your own set of armor? Your own sword and shield?”

“Yes, although all of it was quite small, including the horse,” he replied, and she noticed he had a hint of amusement to his voice and face.

“Did you enjoy it? Going around Europe and fighting, that is.” 

As her father took a long sip of wine, his eyes never left hers. A hint of doubt crept into her mind, and she wondered if she had asked the wrong question.

“It was a necessity. If I hadn’t done it, I may not have been around for very long. Life has always been a fight for survival, my dear. I hope I have taught you that at the very least.”

She looked down and picked at the food on her plate. “Yes, of course,” she said. 

“But to answer your question, yes, I suppose I did enjoy it, at least to some extent. The thrill of battle has always invigorated me.”

Lilianne looked up again. She opened her mouth to ask a question, thought better of it, and closed her mouth and looked away. But he had seen it happen.

“What is it, dear? I give you permission to ask your question.”

She looked at him uncertainly, then mustered up the courage to ask, “Were you ever scared on the battlefield? Did you ever worry you wouldn’t survive?”

To her surprise, he smiled. “Everyone is scared on the battlefield, child. If someone tells you they aren’t, they’re lying. There was always some fear of not making it. But I faced it head on all the same. That is true courage, and it runs in my veins like blood. And I am certain it runs in yours too.” 

Lilianne couldn’t help but blush at that, and she sipped some wine to cover it up. They continued to eat in silence for a time, until another question came to her mind.

“Did you ever think I would last this long? Sometimes I feel like an anomaly, like I’m not supposed to be here anymore. I am sure there are those who wish I wasn’t.” 

He stared at her in silence, his face unreadable as he slowly chewed. It wasn’t until he had swallowed and drank some more wine that he answered. 

“When I first met you, I couldn’t believe that you were alive at all. I thought surely, this had to be some cruel joke of the Russian’s, to taunt me with a child from my wife who had left. But here you were, as alive and real as myself, with a strong spark of life in you. And I found myself determined to keep you that way. As you well know, we did fine for ourselves for several decades. But then our Wall fell and Reunification talks began. And I doubted either of us would make it. I certainly saw that doubt in you too. I remember you losing all hope.”

Lilianne looked down. “Yes, I remember that too,” she mumbled.

“And do you remember talking to me and what I told you?”

“Yes. You said that if I truly wished to die, I might as well do it. But if I wanted to live, I ought to fight for it, instead of waiting around like a coward.” 

“Yes. And then I saw that same spark of life I had seen in you as a young child reignite. I saw you determined to stay alive. And you did exactly that, for the both of us. I haven’t forgotten what you’ve done, and the lengths to which you went to keep us both here. Ever since then, I have never doubted your ability to stay alive. You are, after all, Prussia’s daughter, my daughter. That makes you a fighter and a true survivor.”

Lilianne felt her heart swell at his words. 

“And as for those who wish you dead,” he continued, shaking his head, “fuck them. There are plenty who wish me dead too, and do you think I spend my energy thinking of them? Hardly. They are not worth the dirt on the bottom of my shoes. And yours aren’t worth it either. I hope you’ll remember that.”

“Yes, Papa, I will.” 

“Good. Now let us finish this meal and return to your home. I know you need to get ready for your party tonight.”

Lilianne smiled, nodded, and finished her food and wine in a timely, but unrushed, manner. When they were both done and the bill had been paid, they walked out together and back to his car. 

The drive back to her apartment had a cozy, peaceful feel to it. She felt no need to break the quietness, and neither did he. When they arrived and had gotten out of the car, he opened the back door and took out three presents wrapped in dark green paper and with gold ribbon on them. Two of the rectangles were the same size, and the third was much smaller. He caught her staring at them and the corner of his lips went up. 

“Patience, dear. You’ll have them when we’re in your home.” 

They went inside and took the elevator up to her floor. She unlocked the door to her apartment and held it open for him to come inside with her. They both removed their shoes and went further in. It was clear that she had already begun setting up for her party later that evening, with some decorations on the walls and some snacks already prepped. As they walked through the living room, her cat, Kalashnikov, meowed a greeting from his spot on the couch. Her father glanced at the Russian Blue feline, but kept walking with her. 

“Would you like some water?” she asked.

“Yes, that would be fine.”

As she retrieved the bottles from the fridge, he set the gifts down on the dining table. When she handed him the water, he gestured towards them. “You may as well open them now, dear.” 

She grinned and set her water down in order to pick up the small box first. She pulled a knife out of a pocket on her skirt to cut the ribbon, and then gently peeled open the paper. Inside was a polished wooden box. She opened that to find two exquisite fountain pens nestled inside the velvet lining. 

She looked up at him. “These are lovely. I’m sure I’ll put them to good use.”

“I am sure you will, particularly with the next gift.” 

Lilianne reached for the second gift and opened it up in the same manner as before. Inside of this paper was a thick journal with a green leather cover, and her name, “Lilianne Beilschmidt,” engraved in gold on the front. 

She looked up at him again. “Oh this is gorgeous, Papa. Thank you.” 

He smiled and put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s time you started writing down your story. I would suggest you start from the beginning, and include as many details as you can. Tell me when you’ve almost filled this one, and I will get you another.”

“Really?” she asked, her eyes bright. 

“Of course. Now, why don’t you open the last one?”

She set the journal down gently and picked up the final gift. She opened it up just as carefully as before. This one was also a journal, but its cover was blue leather, and had the name, “Gilbert Beilschmidt,” engraved on the front in silver. 

“This is one of yours?” she asked.

“In a way. It’s actually a copy of my first one. I remember you trying to read them as a child. I think now is as good a time as ever to let you have that privilege.” 

Upon hearing this, she eagerly opened it up and scanned the first page. “It’s in Latin,” she said, looking up at him again.

“I know. Since I am teaching you Latin, I thought it would be a good incentive for you to keep up with your studies. It will be some time before you are fluent enough to read it. But I’m sure you will enjoy it when you do. It does have quite a few battles and adventures in it.” 

Lilianne grinned. “Oh, then I am sure to love it.” She set it down on the table and then wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Thank you. These gifts and the lunch were all wonderful.”

He rested his free hand on her back. “You’re welcome.” 

When she had pulled away and was cleaning up the ribbon and wrapping paper, a thought that he couldn’t ignore wormed its way into his mind. 

“Lilianne,” he said, waiting until she looked at him to continue. “Earlier, you asked if I loved your mother. I didn’t answer your question then. But the truth is, yes, I did love her, more than anything. At least, that was true at the time.” 

Lilianne looked confused. “What do you mean by that?” 

“I mean,” he said, his voice growing softer, “that something else has overshadowed the love I had for her.”

She looked even more confused. 

He cleared his throat and seemed embarrassed to continue. But, true to his courageous nature, he pressed on. “What I mean to say is, while I will always love her, even with her now gone, there is a love that is more important to me now. It is…my love for you.”

Lilianne felt her heart stop for a beat. Her jaw fell open, and the paper in her hands fell to the floor. She blinked a few times. “Papa, are you saying that…that…”

“That I love you? Yes, that is exactly what I am saying.” He stepped closer to her and gently tucked her hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek. “You’re my daughter. I love you more than anything. And, I am sorry it took me 81 years to say it.” 

Just as he predicted she would, she swiftly hugged him tightly, pressing her face into his shoulder. He set his cane against the counter and carefully hugged her back. He rested his chin on her head. 

“I always knew you loved me,” she said after a moment of silence. “I always knew it. I’ve been longing for you to say it out loud though.”

“I know.” He stroked the back of her hair. 

“Thank you for saying it. It means more to me than anything else.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. For once, he let her hug him for as long as she liked. It was a few minutes before she stepped back. Her eyes were wet, but her smile was wide. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay for the party?” she asked, as though what had just occurred hadn’t happened at all. “There won’t be too many people at this one.” 

“It’s quite alright, my dear. I only wanted to see you today, and I have. I prefer to enjoy my quiet evenings at home. But I hope you do enjoy yourself.” 

“Oh I will, I will.” 

“Good. In that case, I had best be on my way. I have some work to finish before the day is up. I am happy you enjoyed our lunch and the gifts.” 

She nodded and walked with him towards the door. Before he opened it, she hugged him one more time. “Thank you, again, for everything. I’m glad you’re my father.” 

He looked down at her fondly. As she pulled away, he held her face in his hands and stared. Then, he gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “I’m glad you’re my daughter,” he whispered. 

He saw her smiling and he smiled back at her. Then, he opened the door. 

“Goodbye, my dear. And have a happy birthday.”

“Goodbye, Papa. Thank you.” 

He nodded once and then was gone, closing the door behind him. As he walked back to the elevator, and as she walked back into her living room, they each felt their hearts swell.

[ironbloodedprussian]

Tending To A Grumpy Old Man

//I decided to write a little hurt-comfort story, in which Gilbert is the injured party, and he has to let Lily take care of him. He is slowly softening up around her, and I love it. >w< Read More is for length.

The attack had been sudden and unexpected. That much is obvious, of course. Had I been expecting it, I would not be in the state I am now. 

A small gang of degenerates who had no business being in my neighborhood apparently thought I’d make an easy target. An old man with a cane, walking his small dog in the evening. I can see why they thought that. Unfortunately for them, I am Prussia, and do not go anywhere unprepared. I soon had three of them backing up away from my sword after having given one a good slash across his face. Unfortunately, as I was telling them to leave, a fourth snuck up from behind and stabbed me in the side with his knife. I turned and stabbed him, getting him in the shoulder. That was enough to send them all running, with Marie barking furiously at them, as though she could do much. But the damage was done. 

I stored my sword and limped back home, the knife still in my side. I would have to pull it out when I was home and could bandage myself. Every step sent a shot of pain through me, and I am sure I was paler than usual when I finally stepped into my house. My housekeeper and cook were both gone for the day, which was fine by me. I hardly needed anyone to see me in this state. 

I made my way to the kitchen where the first aid kit was stored. After swallowing a good pain killer, I set to pulling the knife out. The medicine hadn’t taken effect yet, so the pain was still immense. But I am nothing if not strong willed, so I pushed through it and pried it out of my flesh. I immediately began to bleed more, but I knew what to do. I cleaned the wound as best I could, and then stitched and bandaged it up. It did not need to be a perfect job. My immortal healing capabilities would take care of it. But at least I wouldn’t bleed to death in the kitchen. 

After cleaning the mess it had made, I pulled out my phone. Those filthy creatures would pay one way or another for what they had dared to do tonight. I called my daughter. 

“Papa? What’s going on?” she said as soon as she answered the phone. I was pleased that at least I wasn’t hearing loud club music coming through as well. So at least she was not at one of those establishments tonight. 

“I require your particular set of skills,” I said, cutting straight to the chase. I kept talking as I walked out of the kitchen and headed upstairs to my room. “I was attacked tonight, by a group of young men. Four of them.”

“What?! Where are you now? Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?”

“I’m already home, child,” I said, a note of impatience creeping into my voice. “No, what I need you to do is track them down and have them imprisoned for their crime.”

“I…Okay. What can you tell me about them then? Where were you when you were attacked?”

I gave her all the details I could, being as thorough as possible: exactly which street I had been on, their looks and build, and of course mentioning that one would have a slash on the face and another a stab in the shoulder. 

“Do you need anything else?” I asked as I finished relaying the information.

“No. That should be enough. I’ll get on it right away. But are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I just need rest, my dear. Just tell me when you have them found and arrested.” 

“Yes. Okay. I hope you get your rest then, Papa. And that you heal up soon.” 

The corner of my mouth tugged up despite the soreness in my side. She was such a sweet girl. 

“I will. Good night, my dear.”

“Good night. I love you.” 

I lingered on the line for a few seconds, debating…well, it didn’t need to be said right now. I hung up. Now that I was in my room, I changed into sleep clothes and settled carefully into my bed. Marie curled up on hers and looked at me with a worried look in her eyes. 

“I’ll be fine,” I assured her, as though she could understand. I picked up the book on my nightstand and opened it up to read until I felt tired enough to sleep. It did not take long for the adrenaline to wear off and for exhaustion to take hold. 

I didn’t realize how late I was sleeping in until the sun peeking through the curtains woke me. As I sat up, a sharp pain shot through my side. I grunted and clenched my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut. I laid back down, breathing heavily. 

As I was debating how long I could reasonably stay in bed, a knock came at my door. I frowned in confusion. Both my staff members had the day off today, so it was unlikely to be either of them. And Marie was calm, so it must be someone recognizable. I called out for them to enter. 

Perhaps not too surprisingly, Liliane came in. She looked as though she hadn’t slept at all last night, judging from the dark circles under her eyes and her messy hair. She came straight to my side and clasped my hand. 

“Oh, Papa, I’m so glad to see you awake and alive,” she said, as though she had expected to find me dead this morning. “I was worried when no one answered the door and you didn’t answer your phone either. So I let myself in. I hope you don’t mind.”

I blinked at her, unsure of what to say. It didn’t matter though, because she kept speaking. She had a habit of over-talking when she was upset.

“I came to tell you, we found the men who attacked you last night. At least, we think we did. They match your descriptions and have the injuries you said they would. They’re being detained now. When you feel up to it, you can go identify them. But there’s no need to rush. We’ll worry about that later. What’s important is that you’re okay first. Are you okay? You almost never sleep in like this. Can I get you anything? Do you need water or medicine or–”

“Liliane,” I said, raising my free hand to silence her. “Liliane, you must calm down. I am fine. Do you think this is the worst injury I’ve ever suffered? I’ve had half my body blown off from a canon before. This is a fly bite compared to that.”

She swallowed and bit her lip, still looking horribly worried. 

“I am glad you found them so quickly. I thank you for that. But you shouldn’t trouble yourself anymore. I can tell you didn’t sleep last night. Perhaps I should be the one worried for you.” 

A weak smile came to her face. “No, it’s fine. I’m used to pulling all-nighters. Are you certain you don’t need me to do anything else for you? Can’t I at least make you breakfast?” 

I leaned my head back with a sigh. I knew her. I knew how stubborn she was. She reminded me of her mother, who would fret over the smallest cut I might have, even when she knew I would heal just fine. I smiled a bit at the memories. Then I looked at her again. 

“You can start by taking Marie outside. Just let her loose in the back. Then you can make us both some breakfast.” 

She brightened at the opportunity to be useful. “Yes, Papa. I’ll do that. You just take care to not hurt yourself.” 

I looked annoyed at the suggestion, but she either didn’t see it or ignored it. She was already standing and calling my dog to her, who eagerly followed her out. When she was gone, I sighed loudly to myself and ran a hand down my face. So much for a peaceful day of recovery. But at least she was eager to help in any way I asked of her. 

Once again, I pushed myself to sit up, working through the pain. I grunted as I stood up and walked into my bathroom to prepare for the day. I looked at myself in the mirror, noticing the pale, restless look I had. That wouldn’t do. As I cleaned up and made myself presentable, I took care to make myself look as strong as I could. Once I was ready, I went downstairs to the breakfast parlor. 

I could hear Liliane working in the kitchen. I sat down and pulled over my tablet to read the daily news. It wasn’t long before she was setting the table for two and putting out food and coffee. She also set a bottle of pain medicine next to me. I looked at her through the corner of my eye and she looked back at me. I nodded a thank you and she smiled. Then she leaned down and kissed my cheek, which surprised me more than it should have. 

“I made everything just the way you like it,” she said, sitting down in her chair as though nothing had happened just now. “I hope it helps you feel better.”

I set my tablet aside and looked at the nice spread before us. “Thank you, my dear. I’m sure it will help.” I cracked open a softboiled egg and dipped some toast into it. As I chewed, I looked at her, noticing that she was picking at her food more than eating it. I ought to simply let that be, but I couldn’t help commenting on it. 

“For someone who wasn’t even attacked last night, you’re rather pensive.” 

She looked up from the coffee she had been stirring nonstop without even drinking. “I’m just worried about you,” she said. She hastened to add more before I could say anything. “I know I shouldn’t be. I know you heal up and are immortal like me. But I hate seeing you be hurt. And I hate thinking that it could happen again. What if it’s worse next time? What if you do die on the street? I know you’ll come back, but I don’t want you to be hurt at all. I just want you to be safe.” 

I set the remainder of my toast down on my plate. I laced my fingers together and leaned forward, staring at her. She looked at me nervously, afraid she had said the wrong thing and that I would berate her for it. 

“My child. Do you remember me telling you, perhaps on more than one occasion, that life is full of pain? You cannot prevent it. You must simply stand strong and deal with it when it happens.”

“I remember, yes,” she said, her voice quiet and nervous. 

“Good. Then you will understand that I will be hurt again. And again and again. As will you. And yes, I may die now and then as well. But that is hardly a reason to worry. You will only cause yourself more suffering if you fret about it.” I paused, then added, “Besides, you are my child, not my mother or wife. It’s more my job to worry about you than it is yours to worry about me. I appreciate you hunting down the perpetrators and coming to help me today. But I do not want you up at night worrying that I might be hurt again. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. 

“Good. Now eat some food. You need it.” 

She complied, and we ate together quietly. When we were finished, she began to clear the table while I made my way to the living room to read after taking more medicine. I sighed and grimaced in pain as I sat on the couch. I picked up the book I had left on the side table the night before, The Letters of Cicero, written entirely in Latin, and settled in to read for a while. 

When Liliane finished cleaning, she came in to join me. I thought to myself that I should tell her to go get some sleep, but she quickly took a place right next to me. Like a persistent cat, she slipped under my arm and laid her head on my shoulder, wrapping her arms around my torso. Thankfully, she avoided putting pressure on my wound. 

She was staring at my book. “You never taught me Latin,” she said, “But you have so many Latin books.”

The corner of my mouth tugged up. “It wasn’t necessary for you at the time.” 

“I know,” she said. She yawned and closed her eyes. “But could you still teach me?” 

I thought about it, and then smiled. “I suppose. But you will remember that I am not an easy teacher. I demand hard work and dedication to the subject.”

“I know. But if it means I can spend more time with you, and do something you like, I’ll do it.” 

That gave me pause. I looked down at her and noticed that she was starting to sleep. I smiled more and even chuckled slightly. “Well, if that’s what you want, my dear.” 

When she didn’t respond, I knew she had fallen asleep. I kissed the top of her head and then rested my cheek against it as I resumed reading. As much as I would fight against being seen as a helpless old man, I had to admit to myself that it was nice to have her around to help when things went south. Not having to face it all by myself was a nice change of pace. 

Having a daughter was really quite a blessing. 

[ironbloodedprussian]

@offreedom from x

Gilbert studied her over the rim of his whiskey glass. He slowly sipped from it, then set it down almost silently. He seemed to almost smile now. "It's rather refreshing to hear a younger representative like yourself agree with me. Most seem to want to argue with the truth. Have you developed more wisdom than you've previously had, or is this a one time fluke?"

[ironbloodedprussian]

//Absolutely love that this old bastard is getting new followers. Hi, hello, if you want something with this grumpy old man, don't hesitate to reach out.

[ironbloodedprussian]

@paperworkanddogs

"I suppose," he started as he scratched his neck. "But where did we come from? Did we evolve with humans or were we created from them?" Another hit of both pens. "Are we tulpas? Made in the image of our people?"

He sighed through his nose. He was not going to get to enjoy this equestrian magazine, was he? He carefully closed it and set it aside on the patio table.

"We are clearly much more than imagined beings, if that's what you mean by 'tulpa.' As to your first question, however, well, I do not think we evolved beside humans, or really at all. While they come from humble primate origins, and must necessarily trace their lineage back through other humans to animals and so forth, we have different origins. How we come about varies. Or at least the claims do. I do not pretend to have a special birth out of dirt or seafoam. I came from a woman. So did Liliane and her unfortunate brother. And yet, here we are, immortals. But I also know that immortality is not passed along to our offspring. I have had numerous children, and only the last two have turned out to be representatives. So it seems we are granted our divinity when it is needed.

Seeing as there isn't a representative of the earth or animals or plants, it would be reasonable to assume we must come from the humans in some fashion. We exist when we are needed. Like the ancient gods, we are their ideals. But unlike the ancient gods, we exist in tangible reality. We rely on them to need and want us. They must be devoted to us for us to exist. Yet we are placed above them in a way as well. We live on, well past them, yet ever shaped by them. Our divinity is a curse as well as a blessing. We remain here, forever their clay to shape as they please, yet looked upon in awe all the same."

He sipped some water from a glass. "Does that answer your question?"

[ourfairdominion]

"Oh boy, you are not ready to hear about this place called Quebec.... Wait, you're telling me that geese can be used to definite my enemies"

[ironbloodedprussian]

"That's not what I said. But I suppose if you are able to train them well enough, then perhaps. They could certainly be used to bring down planes, although they would not survive the mission in the process."

[ironbloodedprussian]

He's wearing a shirt that says

The only difference between me and my father is I know I am mentally ill

He's also switching between two vape pens, one with nicotine and the other with THC.

"do you think nations could be considered great apes?"

He lowers his magazine only a fraction of an inch to stare at Ludwig. Then he raises it back up and resumes reading.

"We are closer to gods than we are to humans or apes. But I suppose there may be some relationship. Certainly more so with certain nations than with others."

[ironbloodedprussian]

I made a meme.

[ourfairdominion]

"Well seeing this situation involves neither war or hockey, I don't think violence is warranted. It's just some geese."

[ironbloodedprussian]

"It starts off as just some geese, sure. And then the next thing you know, France is riding through your streets in a victory parade. Do you think I put him in his place by being sentimental about some geese? I had to grow a backbone and discipline myself to get rid of him."

[ourfairdominion]

@ironbloodedprussian

"If she's still there when goose season starts, there is a simple solution to your problem."

"I don't know, I've kinda grown fond of her in a weird way."

[ironbloodedprussian]

He shook his head with a sigh. "That's the problem with you youthful reps. You're too soft. Too sentimental. You'll let the world walk all over you and apologize to them for the inconvenience."

[apres-moi-ledeluge]

He's here, he's queer, he's pretending he doesn't know German.

"excellent! I'll introduce mysel and the podcast, then you introduce yourselves. Say something about yourself too! And don't forget, you're on camera~"

With a wink, he started recording. "Thank you for joining me," he started. "As always, I'm your beloved host, François, and I'm joined by my lovely neighbors"

[ironbloodedprussian]

Liliane smoothed out her hair one more time, while her father sat up straight as the Frenchman started his show. Like a true Prussian, he got down to business as soon as he was prompted to.

"I am Herr Gilbert Beilschmidt," he said, "or Prussia, for those of you who can't pronounce a basic German name. And this is my daughter, Dr. Liliane Beilschmidt, or Berlin."

Liliane waved at the camera with a smile. "Hello," she said, sounding much more cheerful and inviting than her father.

[mephistosfaust]

I savored a particularly delicious bite of the pheasant, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. I wasn’t trying to provoke for the sake of it, but I’ve always had a low tolerance for idle chatter. As Germany, I take a distinct, almost primal pleasure in getting to the core of things—not just scratching at the surface, but breaking it open with a sledgehammer to see what’s inside.

Beneath the layers of bureaucracy and stiffness, my mind has always been a battlefield of ideas. From the foundation of the seven liberal arts and German Mysticism to the Reformation; from the lofty heights of German Idealism to the gritty critiques of the Frankfurt School, the question of ‘why’ has always been present. I learned to hone my tongue as a weapon for it was all I had at my disposal. Back when I was a collection of fragmented states living under Gilbert’s roof, words were the only way to resist. He had tried to censor me, tried to crack my skull open and pull out any revolutionary thought that questioned his order, but he never quite succeeded.

I turned my attention to Herr Beilschmidt as he spoke. His answer shouldn't have surprised me, and yet, something almost warm spread in my chest. No matter the universe, it seemed that for a Prussia, Germany would always be the crowning achievement of his existence.

Would I have chosen a different path to unification? One that didn't involve such obscene, systematic violence? Yes. Every single time. But history had dragged me through the mud and the blood for better or worse, and hearing him say it made me feel that the suffering hadn't been in vain. It was the answer I had always known, yet one I had never heard from my own brother with such humble clarity.

Then I looked at Lily. She was fidgeting, her eyes darting between us like a trapped animal. I realized then that I’d pushed her into a corner, forcing her to justify her existence between her father and me. She was ‘just’ Berlin, the city that the other Länder made the butt of their jokes. I pulled a brief apologetic face as she struggled to find an answer that was both true and safe.

When Herr Beilschmidt turned his authoritarian gaze back on me, demanding my own tally of success, I set my wine glass down. “The car, of course,” I said in complete seriousness. Then, seeing the look on his face, I let a small, dry smile break through. “Jokes aside.”

I leaned back, my expression darkening. “Finding some scrap of humanity left in me after twelve years of hate, fear, and genocide. But my greatest achievement wasn’t even my doing, really. It was the fact that others, for some reason, chose to accept me. Not forgive, perhaps, but allow me to exist. I still work for that acceptance. I likely always will.”

As I spoke, I reached up and tugged at my tie, loosening the knot just a fraction. I could still feel it sometimes—the phantom pressure of the noose tightening around my neck when they dragged me toward the gallows after the war. For the first time in my long life, I hadn't been sure I would wake up. I would have understood if the world had simply decided I deserved to stay dead. Who would have believed in such a miserable piece of shit? But I survived, too.

I turned to Lily, my voice softening. “Survival is nothing to be ashamed of. It is the ultimate testament to adaptability. Think of the city you represent. A swamp village that became a royal residence. A center of arts and thoughts and science that became an industrial powerhouse. Bombed to the core, broken, and rebuilt twice, only to stand again as the capital of...” I gestured toward her father, “...his greatest achievement.”

I caught her eye and held it. “You’ve done better than you give yourself credit for. Staying alive when the world wants you gone is a victory in itself.”

[ironbloodedprussian]

Liliane let a smile tug at her lips for a moment as Ludwig spoke. But then, she looked to her father for approval and was met with a deep, red stare. Tucking some of her hair behind her ear, she looked down again and tried to continue eating. Now, Prussia turned his attention back to Ludwig.

"So you exist because others allow you to? Is that really an accomplishment? That's hardly an existence at all. Where's the fight? The glory? Everyone wants me gone, yet here I am, still breathing in the air of another day. I defy their desires, their wishes. I am proudly living my life in spite of them."

As he drank some wine, his eyes darted between his daughter and Ludwig. And he wondered if he couldn't just nudge a wedge between them. Carefully, of course. No need to drive the sledgehammer down just yet.

"I take it your brother lives in much the same way I do, does he not? Surviving against the greatest odds, proving his worth. Well, it's no wonder my sweet, young child chose him over you in the end."

Liliane's fork dropped to her plate with a clatter. She hastily picked it back up again, avoiding anyone's eyes. Her gut was clenching, but she forced herself to eat calmly, to not betray a hint of emotion.

Prussia's lips wore a thin smile, just barely visible. This foreign Germany would not so easily snatch her away. Nor would the other Prussia, but that was perhaps a battle for another day. He looked at the younger man's face now, looking to see if his thick head had gotten the hint, or if he would need it more spelled out for him.

[apres-moi-ledeluge]

@mauerfrau

Francis usually set out drinks, snacks, alcoholic drinks, blankets, the works every time he invited someone over to be a guest on his podcast. Today, he skipped most of that. His little darlings had been set up with frozen treats on their beds and he had a large case of beer available for his guests.

"ready?" He asked them as he fiddled with his computer.

[ironbloodedprussian]

Herr Beilschmidt and his daughter each had a beer in their hands and were muttering to each other in German. The gist of it was, Prussia was complaining that he was even here, and wondering how he had let her talk him into coming in the first place. She was trying to reassure him that it would be fine and they were going to have a good time. He sighed and shook his head, deciding that if it didn't go well, he would blame the Frenchman before them.

Liliane nodded to Francis. "Yes, I think we're ready. Right, Papa?"

"I suppose," grumbled the older man.

[mephistosfaust]

Perhaps if I had sold the piano to my brother as an exercise in strategic focus and auditory discipline, he would have been more lenient. I might have spent my days mastering the keys instead of being buried under a mountain of military tactics and civil law. Then again, you don't govern a nation by pulling the strings of a cello, a fact Gilbert reminded me of with exhausting regularity.

I offered Lily a brief, appreciative nod for the compliment. “Thank you. And yes, I suppose I could play. It is no big deal,” I said, keeping my tone as level as possible. I hadn’t made a point of performing for her, but Lily was no stranger to the sight of me at a piano. My preference had always been for those solitary grand pianos that haunted the marble lobbies of international hotels. For me, it offered a legitimate excuse to bypass the aimless, suffocating small talk and the hollow restlessness of waiting. It was a useful barrier, an excellent excuse to look occupied. People were far less likely to bother you with idiotic questions if you appeared to be busy executing a complex sonata.

I raised a brow at the mention of Old Fritz. Honestly, the man before me should be sending daily thank-you notes to history for that particular king. Without Friedrich’s flute and a few well-placed French philosophers, the world would have remembered Prussia as nothing more than a glorified thug with a very efficient filing system. It was a spectacular bit of historical PR that gave him a varnish of culture. Though, his grandfather already stood out as a connoisseur of the arts, lying the foundation of Berlin as a capital.

“In the right hands, the humble flute becomes a great instrument for sure,” I said, watching Herr Beilschmidt try to swallow a compliment directed at me. It was almost as delightful as this dinner.

Then Lily spoke, her voice thick with a romanticism that made my skin crawl. A good dream? Where nothing foul or cruel can touch you? I had to lower my head, focusing intently on a piece of pheasant to hide the roll of my eyes. Gosh, Lily, fuck the flute, will you. I washed down the meat with a sip of wine.

“Ähm, yes. Sure,” I responded at her eagerness to play together. I already cataloged my mental library for a piece that could accommodate a piano, violin and the flute. Something slow. Something that wouldn't require us to look at each other too closely. Schubert, perhaps. Or one of the Russians, if we wanted to be particularly brooding.

I set my glass down and reached for the bottle of mineral water. I had to drive back to my own reality eventually; sadly, I couldn't afford to get drunk.

“Talking about skill and practice,” I began, my voice regaining its typical ‘Dr. Dr. Beilschmidt’ edge. I leaned back slightly, my gaze drifting from the Prussian at the head of the table to Lily. I wanted to cut through the sentimentality. “What do you both consider to be your greatest achievement in life?”

[ironbloodedprussian]

While Liliane appeared excited at the prospect of playing instruments together with Ludwig and her father, Herr Beilschmidt couldn't have seemed less thrilled. For a brief second, he looked as though Ludwig had flung a toenail into his potatoes. But then, Ludwig's question changed the tone of the room.

Herr Beilschmidt looked at Ludwig, studying him, knowing full well that this question was some kind of trap. Still, as he chewed his food slowly, he contemplated an answer. When he swallowed, he sipped some wine before answering. "My legacy of raising a torn nation out of nothingness and putting her on the global scene. If it weren't for me, many of us would still be speaking French. I don't claim that I defeated Napoleon on my own, of course. But Germany would not be here as she is if I hadn't acted and united us under a common banner."

His attention then turned to his daughter, who was now picking despondently at her plate. When she didn't look up or say anything, he said, "What about you, child?"

Liliane shifted in her seat and shook her head. "Oh, I don't know," she mumbled, "I don't think I have anything."

His expression darkened. "Liliane," he said, his voice now taking on that of a general about to give marching orders. She looked up at him immediately, her eyes wide, her body tense. He stared at her.

"You are the capital of a great nation. You always have been. Do you mean to tell me that you truly do not have a single accomplishment to your name? Are you suggesting that I raised a failure?"

She swallowed. "N-no, sir," she said in a timid voice.

"Precisely. So, I ask you again. What is your greatest accomplishment?"

Liliane put her shaking hands into her lap. Her eyes darted between her father and Ludwig, as though one might offer help to appease the other. But no help came. So she was forced to find some kind of answer. "I-I don't know. I suppose...surviving? Even after everything we've been through. E-even though no one but you wanted me around."

Something in Prussia's expression changed, though it was hard to tell if he had softened or hardened right now. But he did relax, somewhat. "You have more to your name than just survival, child," he said, the edge now gone from his voice. "I want you to think about it more and tell me before you leave."

She nodded. "Yes, Papa."

"And you," he said, turning back to Ludwig, his voice picking up the authoritarian tone again. "What is your greatest achievement then? Besides upsetting my daughter constantly?"

[mephistosfaust]

My lips twitched upward as he turned, his bewilderment still written across his face. A man who thrived on absolute control, he was visibly unsettled by his inability to grasp the simplest variable in the room: why his daughter found me tolerable. He was desperate to uncover some hidden trick, some sinister manipulation he could dismantle. The idea that she simply liked me for who I was—Germany—seemed to offend his very sense of reality.

As we crossed the threshold back into the house, I allowed my hand to brush his shoulder for the fraction of a second. The gesture so brief it might have been an accident.

“When I’ve figured it out myself,” I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Inside the house, Lily greeted us at once, her expression cycling through exhaustion and relief before landing on heartfelt gratitude that we had returned from the garden alive, intact and—miraculously—without any visible injuries. Before I could prepare myself, she pulled me into a hug. I froze for a heartbeat, my arms hovering awkwardly before I gave her a singular, stiff pat on the back.

“We’re fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “He was just showing me some of his plants. We had a brief... discussion about breeding and the merits of different fertilizers.”

I could practically feel the Prussian’s frown deepening behind me, but I didn't linger. I retrieved the gift bag from where it had been sidelined and handed the bottle of red wine to Frau Wagner with a polite nod.

The dining room was a pantomime of bourgeoise domesticity. The long table, the silver trays, the scent of roast pheasant. It was all too familiar. I ran a hand down my tie to give my hands something to do before unbuttoning my suit jacket. With a quick move, I took my seat to Herr Beilschmidt’s right. It was a position I had occupied for centuries in various halls of power; I knew the weight of it, the expectations it carried, and exactly how much I would have preferred to be sitting anywhere else.

I offered a clipped ‘Danke’ as the pheasant was served and a small nod to the housekeeper as she poured the wine. I watched the exchange between father and daughter with a detached interest until the subject of music arose.

I had to suppress a crooked smile. If my brother were here, he’d likely growl that if one was going to indulge in such a frivolous pastime, one had better at least play Bach. For all his barbarian posturing, Gilbert had always shown a certain interest in the finer arts. Berlin wasn’t Vienna, but the Hohenzollerns had never lacked a sense of rhythm. Be it with a baton or cane.

Then came the question about my own skill with an instrument, and I nearly choked on my wine, the liquid going down the wrong way as I tried to process the sheer irony of someone seriously asking whether I had any sense for classical music—as if Germany hadn’t unleashed Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, and half the Western canon upon the world.

“Do I?” I repeated, setting my glass down with a faint clink and reaching for my napkin. “Piano, certainly. Cello as well. I spent my summers studying music with Roderich before…” I paused, lips thinning. “Before Gilbert decided that marching songs and gunfire made better accompaniment than Mendelssohn ever could.”

I leaned forward to add more potatoes to my plate. “I take it you valued music as part of a proper humanist education more than my brother ever did,” I said lightly. “The violin is a beautiful instrument,” I added, glancing across the table at Lily, “difficult to master, but endlessly rewarding—both to play and to listen to.”

[ironbloodedprussian]

Liliane blushed at Ludwig's comment, and it did not go unnoticed by Herr Beilschmidt. But, he had made his promise to her and to this man that he would stay civil and peaceful, so he did not say anything.

"So, you play piano and cello. Those are fine instruments to play," he said, trying to not choke on the compliment he was giving to him.

"Oh he plays piano so well, Papa," said Liliane. "You should ask him to play after dinner too."

Herr Beilschmidt looked at her with an expression that said he was hiding his annoyance at the thought of such a proposal. "Only if he wants to," he finally said. "It would be rude to expect a guest to provide entertainment." Then, he turned back to Ludwig. "I have valued music for a long time, although it was not until Frederick the Great that I learned anything about it myself. I picked up the flute, much like him. It takes discipline and mastery over oneself to learn and keep up with an instrument, and that is what I value."

"I've always loved listening to you play, Papa. It feels like being in a dream. A good dream. Where nothing foul or cruel can touch you." She thought about the nights when she was a child and he had played for her until she fell asleep. He always claimed it was about broadening her mind and teaching her an appreciation for good music. But she sometimes wondered if it wasn't also his way of showing affection back then. Not that she would voice the thought out loud though, and certainly not in front of Ludwig.

"Perhaps we should all play for each other tonight," she continued, as she cut into the pheasant on her plate. "That could be nice."

Prussia's eyebrows rose and then creased as he chewed his food and thought about her idea. He couldn't think of a reason to not do it, other than that he felt his talents would be wasted on the ears of the brute next to him. That would hardly suffice as an answer though, when he was trying to play nice.

"I suppose we might. If that is what our guest wants." He looked at Ludwig with little emotion on his face as he waited for an answer.

Liliane looked at Ludwig with an excited smile, hoping he would agree. Perhaps them playing music together would be another step in healing the rift between father and friend.

[mephistosfaust]

I had just turned back toward the house when his question rang out behind me. For a man who leaned so heavily on a cane, he was remarkably agile; he closed the distance quickly and left me very little time to consider my answer. Then again, I’d underestimated his mobility once before. A mistake I had no intention of repeating.

“I’m a nation of many centers. Berlin doesn’t hold the same sentimental value it holds for you. Yes, Berlin is my current capital, but my heart beats in Munich and Hamburg and Frankfurt all the same, it beats in the Black Forest, the Ruhr Valley, the Ore Mountains and the Frisian Wadden Sea.”

I glanced at him beside me, weighing his intentions. He was Prussia after all, and Prussia doesn’t do small talk. Every word came with a hook, and I’d be damned if I opened my mouth too wide and let him catch and drag me onto dry land.

“I’m more than a Wessi, and you are certainly more than an Ossi, Preußen. Let’s not insult each other’s intelligence with clinging to such a short period of our histories.” My gaze swept over him; these human labels felt thin and brittle, much like the frost crunching under our leather shoes.

He was still searching for the secret ingredient, wasn't he? Wondering why she’d look twice at a man like me. It was amusing, watching a Prussia try to navigate the messy terrain of ‘caring’. He’d traded his authority for affection and was now shocked to find his influence waning. That’s the problem with finding a heart. It’s an organ made of muscle and blood, not stone. It’s wet. It’s slippery. The more he tried to cuddle his daughter into staying, the more likely she was to slip out of his grasp.

“She is your daughter, after all. You know her better than I do. She can be quite… persistent. A trait I assume she inherited from the side of the family that doesn't know when to quit. Be assured, our relationship was hardly blessed under a lucky star at first. But eventually, we adapted to one another. Call it the magic of friendship, I suppose.”

I let out a breathy chuckle and adjusted my suit jacket, the expensive wool barely keeping me warm against the biting Berlin air.

“Look. For the better part of my adolescence, I was raised by a man of exceptional charm and legendary warmheartedness,” I said, the irony in my voice thick enough to choke on. I didn't need to name Gilbert for the ghost of his grin to hang between us. “Apparently, some of those gentle lessons stuck, and she found the result appealing. Or, more likely, she is simply your daughter—a bullhead of the highest order who treats a ‘no’ as a personal challenge. When she stumbled across me, I suspect I became less of a person and more of a long-term project. She wanted to crack the code, peel back the armor, and see if there was actually a pulse beneath the cold, calculating machinery of Big Bad West Germany.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, a short, sharp scoff escaping my lips. I was well aware of the caricature I occupied in the East German mind: the Nazi monster, the soulless capitalist pig, Uncle Sam pulling the strings... I highly doubted Lily’s upbringing had featured many bedtime stories about my supposed virtues.

“You know how children are. Tell them a door is locked, and they’ll spend the rest of the night trying to pick the lock.” I gave a casual shrug and turned back toward the patio.

[ironbloodedprussian]

Prussia stared ahead at the house where his daughter was, mulling over the other man's words. He seemed to be placing all, or most, of the blame on her, and that didn't sit right with him. To think that after all he had done to raise her to be wary, even fearful of, the West Germans, and to hate them, she had still chosen to befriend the worst of them on her own, was absurd. He had no doubts in her stubbornness, of course. And that she had always been too curious for her own good if not redirected in the right manner. But the man next to him surely played some role in this too. The only question was, was it genuine, or was it all a trick? He wanted to believe the latter, as it was a better option to face than the first.

A light scoff escaped his lips. "You cannot fool me into believing this was entirely her own doing. You had some role in this too. These things don't happen only one way. But knowing your nature...how long will it be until you inevitably hurt and break her for your own selfish desires?"

As they entered the house, the warm air enveloped them, but Prussia took no pleasure from it. His mind was still outside in the cold, with the consideration of their garden conversation leaving a deeper frown than usual etched on his features. He was still wearing it as they rejoined Liliane in the living room.

The girl was perched on the edge of the sofa, still tense even as she scrolled through her phone. When she heard footsteps approaching, she looked up, and a smile instantly graced her features as she stood. Even so, her eyes were searching them for some sign of a fight. When she could find none, she walked over to them.

"Papa," she said as she hugged him first, causing his frown to falter. "Ludwig," she said as she hugged him second. "I'm so glad you're both back. You're so cold. You shouldn't have gone out without coats on. But never mind that. Frau Wagner told me that the dinner is ready now. That should warm you up."

"Quite so," said Herr Beilschmidt, more to himself than to either of them. "Come. This way then." He led them to the dining room. As they entered, the warm smells of hearty foods greeted them. Upon the table were placed bowls of vegetables and potatoes and bread. Good wine sat in bottles. And in the center, a golden-brown roast pheasant sat on a silver tray.

Herr Beilschmidt pulled out Liliane's chair for her and pushed it in as she sat. He then took his place at the head of the table. Ludwig, as the guest of honor (a term Herr Beilschmidt found ironic with him) was placed to his right, with Liliane to his left.

After they had served themselves and were eating, Prussia slowly cut his pheasant on his plate. "Tell me, my child, have you ever played your violin for this man here?"

Liliane shook her head. "No, I don't think I have."

"Ah. Then this will be a new experience for you," he said as he looked at Ludwig. "She'll play for us after we eat."

Liliane smiled awkwardly and looked down at her plate as heat rose to her cheeks.

"Don't be so shy, my dear," he said, "You play well, if you've been practicing. You have been practicing, haven't you?"

"Yes, Papa, of course."

"Then you have nothing to fear." He turned to Ludwig. "Do you or your brother have enough discipline to master an instrument as well?"