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Here's a pinned post with Gilbert's info site, finally.
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@ironbloodedprussian
Information!
Here's a pinned post with Gilbert's info site, finally.
Landing page for Ironbloodedprussian

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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"
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.
I savored a particularly delicious bite of the pheasant, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. I wasnât trying to provoke for the sake of it, but Iâve always had a low tolerance for idle chatter. As Germany, I take a distinct, almost primal pleasure in getting to the core of thingsânot just scratching at the surface, but breaking it open with a sledgehammer to see whatâs 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 âwhyâ 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 Gilbertâs 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 Iâd pushed her into a corner, forcing her to justify her existence between her father and me. She was âjustâ 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. âThe car, of course,â I said in complete seriousness. Then, seeing the look on his face, I let a small, dry smile break through. âJokes aside.â
I leaned back, my expression darkening. âFinding some scrap of humanity left in me after twelve years of hate, fear, and genocide. But my greatest achievement wasnât 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.â
As I spoke, I reached up and tugged at my tie, loosening the knot just a fraction. I could still feel it sometimesâthe 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. âSurvival 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...â I gestured toward her father, â...his greatest achievement.â
I caught her eye and held it. âYouâve done better than you give yourself credit for. Staying alive when the world wants you gone is a victory in itself.â
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.
@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.
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.
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. âThank you. And yes, I suppose I could play. It is no big deal,â I said, keeping my tone as level as possible. I hadnât 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 Friedrichâs 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.
âIn the right hands, the humble flute becomes a great instrument for sure,â 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.
âĂhm, yes. Sure,â 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.
âTalking about skill and practice,â I began, my voice regaining its typical âDr. Dr. Beilschmidtâ 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. âWhat do you both consider to be your greatest achievement in life?â
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?"

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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 wasâGermanyâseemed 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.
âWhen Iâve figured it out myself,â I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, âIâll be sure to let you know.â
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 andâmiraculouslyâwithout 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.
âWeâre fine,â I said, forcing a smile. âHe was just showing me some of his plants. We had a brief... discussion about breeding and the merits of different fertilizers.â
I could practically feel the Prussianâs 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 Beilschmidtâs 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 âDankeâ 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, heâd 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 wasnât 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 musicâas if Germany hadnât unleashed Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, and half the Western canon upon the world.
âDo I?â I repeated, setting my glass down with a faint clink and reaching for my napkin. âPiano, certainly. Cello as well. I spent my summers studying music with Roderich beforeâŚâ I paused, lips thinning. âBefore Gilbert decided that marching songs and gunfire made better accompaniment than Mendelssohn ever could.â
I leaned forward to add more potatoes to my plate. âI take it you valued music as part of a proper humanist education more than my brother ever did,â I said lightly. âThe violin is a beautiful instrument,â I added, glancing across the table at Lily, âdifficult to master, but endlessly rewardingâboth to play and to listen to.â
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.
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, Iâd underestimated his mobility once before. A mistake I had no intention of repeating.
âIâm a nation of many centers. Berlin doesnât 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.â
I glanced at him beside me, weighing his intentions. He was Prussia after all, and Prussia doesnât do small talk. Every word came with a hook, and Iâd be damned if I opened my mouth too wide and let him catch and drag me onto dry land.
âIâm more than a Wessi, and you are certainly more than an Ossi, PreuĂen. Letâs not insult each otherâs intelligence with clinging to such a short period of our histories.â 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 sheâd look twice at a man like me. It was amusing, watching a Prussia try to navigate the messy terrain of âcaringâ. Heâd traded his authority for affection and was now shocked to find his influence waning. Thatâs the problem with finding a heart. Itâs an organ made of muscle and blood, not stone. Itâs wet. Itâs slippery. The more he tried to cuddle his daughter into staying, the more likely she was to slip out of his grasp.
âShe 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.â
I let out a breathy chuckle and adjusted my suit jacket, the expensive wool barely keeping me warm against the biting Berlin air.
âLook. For the better part of my adolescence, I was raised by a man of exceptional charm and legendary warmheartedness,â 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. âApparently, some of those gentle lessons stuck, and she found the result appealing. Or, more likely, she is simply your daughterâa bullhead of the highest order who treats a ânoâ 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.â
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 Lilyâs upbringing had featured many bedtime stories about my supposed virtues.
âYou know how children are. Tell them a door is locked, and theyâll spend the rest of the night trying to pick the lock.â I gave a casual shrug and turned back toward the patio.
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?"
I stared into his eyesâthat endless, unsettling sea of crimson. The shade was identical if nothing else was. It dragging me back to a bed in 1813, waking up into a world where the Holy Roman Empire was a corpse and I was a boy of thirteen with no name and no memory. The first thing I had seen upon opening my eyes were those same red eyes leaning over me, his hand at my cheek or my throat, I couldnât tell. I had been terrified, certain I was looking into the face of a demon come to claim whatever was left of my soul. And yet, beneath the terror, there had been a bone-deep sense of relief. A sanctuary. Like finally coming home after years of wandering around in a haze that had almost swallowed me whole.
I saw that same âdemonâ now, but this one was wearing a fatherâs grief above all. He claimed her, with the same passion Gilbert had claimed me, wormed himself into my mind until I couldnât tell the difference between our realities.
âSheâs yours. Iâm not disrupting that,â I said, my voice sounding thin against the biting Berlin wind. I looked back toward the house, my gaze lingering on the window of her fatherâs living room where I imagined Lily was still sitting, waiting, hoping we wouldn't kill each other.
A sigh left me when he mentioned her feelings for meâpast or present, none but her could tell. I was aware of them, of course. I had seen the way she looked at me, her expression gradually shifting from fear to disgust to tolerance and eventually longing in the course of the past decades. I might have been all to her; the man her father warned her about, the nation she wished to hold her, the human so utterly broken that he couldnât hold himself. But I couldn't offer her a home when I didn't even know how to inhabit my own skin. If I couldn't find the strength to take responsibility for my own happiness, how was I supposed to be the anchor for hers?
Perhaps that was why she was back here, playing the part of the perfect, submissive daughter. If I wouldn't have her, she had no choice but to crawl back into the shadow of the only other power that claimed her. I had rejected her, and in doing so, Iâd driven her right back into the arms of a man who was like poison to her. The irony was almost too much to stomach.
I turned back to Herr Beilschmidt and looked at the hand he held out. His terms were simple: don't steal his heart, don't break his daughter.
âYou have my word,â I said, my voice regaining its steady, professional clip. I reached out and took his hand, my grip firm and cold. âI have no intention of taking her away. I have enough crises to manage in my own timeline; I have no desire to annex yours. If she finds some modicum of happiness in my company, I wonât deny her that. But rest assured, I am not looking to play the hero in this story.â
I released his hand, the tension in my shoulders finally beginning to ebb, replaced by a dull, familiar ache of the burden I carried daily.
âIâm glad you two have worked it out,â I added, the corner of my mouth twitching with a trace of my half-smile. âA truly happy, functional family. Itâs a lovely sentiment. Though, we both know the German temperament doesn't lend itself to âhappily ever afterâ for very long. Eventually, the pain returns. Itâs a family tradition, after all.â
I began walking back toward the house, not waiting to see if he followed. The cold was starting to seep through my suit, and the honesty of the garden was becoming more than I wanted to handle.
âWe should head back inside,â I called over my shoulder. âI believe thereâs a dinner getting cold, and Iâd hate to disappoint our Disney Princess by being late.â
There was no smile on the Prussian's face as they shook hands, but there was an acceptance of sorts. As much as he would have loved to have stabbed and slashed this other world's brute, he knew this was better. After all, this war was not about who could shed the most blood, but over who could keep Berlin closer to him. And with this peacemaking gesture, he was one step closer to winning. Now, he only needed to let the man before him screw up somehow, in some big fashion, and Berlin would come running to her father's arms for solace. He only had to wait, to bide his time. Prussia was patient.
"Hmph. 'Und wenn sie nicht gestorben sind, dann leben sie noch heute.' I know. But Berlin is mine and always will be. I know that she will always come home to me, regardless of what befalls us beforehand." In his mind's eye, he recalled a certain trip to her dacha only a few month's prior to this day. How she had shown him all the memories she'd saved of him. How, even when she had learned the truth of his role in that boy's fate, she had forgiven him and stayed by him. If she could forgive that, she could forgive anything he'd ever done or might do.
He started walking and was soon beside the German. He would not let him lead him back to his own house. As they crossed the garden though, a question nagged at his mind.
"Tell me," he said as they approached the house, "how did a West German of another world like you ever come to care so much for another world's East Berlin? I know that you have your own Berlin to look after. And in my experience, Wessis are not so altruistic towards Ossis. What could have made either of you like each other this much?"
//I completely forgot it's this bastard's birthday today! đ Forgive me, Herr Beilschmidt.
I'm sure he just had a nice dinner with some colleagues and his favorite daughter (Lily). Maybe I'll type something up for it a little later when I'm home.
If anyone wants to do something for it though, let me know!
I squeezed my eyes shut for a second. Fuck. I regretted the "Stasi" comment the moment the words left my tongue; it was a petty, abrasive misstep. There was no need for me to take the moral high ground with Lily, especially when my cynicism was better directed elsewhere. She was a good personâalmost frustratingly soâand sheâd done nothing to deserve my Scrooge-like inability to accept that someone could find a scrap of happiness in life.
When her father stood and commanded me to follow, I caught Lilyâs eye. She looked stern, her expression a silent reminder of the promise Iâd made to be on my best behavior. I offered her a mute, apologetic look as I stood.
I reached for the back of my neck, scratching lightly as if I could peel the tension away, then caught myself and let my hand fall to her shoulder instead, squeezing onceâfirm, meant to reassure both of us.
I knew exactly what was expected of me. Donât cause a scene, smile and play along through the most perfect Christmas dinner anyone has ever seen. I just had to convince myself to believe the lie first.
Growling softly, I followed her father into the garden. The shift from the warm, rustic interior to the garden hit like a slap. I suppressed a hiss and bowed my head to avoid the piercing gust of wind.
âSo, are we going hunting now?â
I meant it as a joke, but the words fell flat. His look cut through me, sharper than the cold. For a moment, I was just something in his wayâa particular annoying insect he might crush underfoot or ignore until it stopped buzzing. My gaze dropped to his cane, , tracing the polished wood and ornamented handle. I knew about the blade hidden inside it. And I knew if I vanished here, no one would even ask where Iâd gone.
But as he began to speak, the immediate threat of violence seemed to simmer down into something more emotional. He had dropped his facade, so I allowed mine to slip as well. What caught me off guard, however, was the genuine flicker of protectiveness in his tone. He actually cared for herâor, at the very least, he feared losing his grip on her. There was a grim irony in it: that my mere presence had been the catalyst for his sudden devotion to fatherhood these past months. Apparently, even in an alternate universe, I have a knack for provoking a reformation through the most inconvenient means possible.
âShe kept nagging me about giving you a second chance,â I said finally, shoving my hands deep into my pockets to shield them from the cold. âYour sudden change of heartâafter stabbing your own daughter to death, no lessâconvinced her that youâre a reformed man. Whether your feelings are genuine or out of self-interest is your business, not mine.â
I kicked at the frozen earth, my breath ghosting in the air between us.
âIâm here because she asked me to be. And damn me, perhaps it was the 'spirit of Christmas' or perhaps I'm just a fool, but I eventually agreed. That is the only reason I am standing in your garden instead of being halfway back to my own world.â
I looked him dead in the eye, mirroring his own intensity.
âItâs a conflict of loyalty she tries to win, and itâs eating her alive. In her mind, sheâs failing both of us just by existing between our two worlds. Thatâs why sheâs putting on this performanceâthe princess dress and crystal stones, the soft voice, the constant âYes, Papaâ. Itâs heartbreaking, really. Sheâs trying to retreat into a version of herself thatâs small enough to perhaps be seen as just good enough. I told her we arenât dolls she can arrange for a tea party, but sheâs not listening,â I said, then shrugged as a frown creased my forehead. âPerhaps try to go easy on her. Sheâs just a city-state, after all. And a human.â
It was moments like these when Herr Beilschmidt wished he hadn't quit smoking. Having a cigarette right now would give him something to do, some way to be occupied, as he considered Ludwig's words. But, he would be damned if he asked the man before him for a smoke. Instead, he put his hand against the trunk of the tree beside him and seemed to inspect its bark for a moment. Then, his eyes went back to the house.
"I've had many children in my lifetime. Boys who became mighty generals. Girls who married lords and ran noble houses. But they were all only human. They died, as humans do, and without any heirs. My last wife was able to gift me not one, but two, immortal children. But one of them was snatched from me, and now seems determined to enrage me at every chance he gets. But the other..." He gestured towards the house.
"She's always wanted my approval. Even when she was hardly five years old and saw me for the first time in prison. They both hid behind the Russian's coat at first. But then, she walked forward, while her brother stayed behind. She was the one who came to me, and put her small hand in mine and called me, 'Father.' And for the first time in my long life, that word carried more weight than it ever had before."
His thumb rubbed the head of his cane. "Berlin has always been my heart. But now she was truly mine. No one could or can take that from me." His eyes came back to Ludwig. "I didn't allow radicals or the West to snatch her away. I have always kept her safe, even when it meant playing the villain in everyone else's eyes. I did not let that boy steal her away. I will not let you do it either. I know, you do not have the feelings for her that she has or did have for you. But you still bring her some form of happiness. I am not blind to it."
His grip on the cane tightened and he twisted it on a dead, frost covered leaf. "I will not deny my daughter her happiness now. But neither will I sit by idly and let her be taken from me. So, Dr. Dr. Ludwig Beilschmidt, if you and I are to have the peace she so desires from us, then here are my conditions. Firstly, that you do no harm to her, and continue to bring her whatever odd sort of happiness it is she gets from you. And secondly, but most importantly, that you never try to take her away, whether by force or charm or trickery, or what have you. She is mine, and I will not lose her to anyone, let alone another universe. If you can respect these terms, however, then I will respect her strange desire to be around you, and allow you to walk around our world without harm. Perhaps I will even host you again, if she so desires. Do we have an understanding?" He held out his hand for a shake, looking Ludwig dead in the eyes to check for lying or deceit of some kind.

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I braced myself. The moment he set his glass down and shifted in his chair, my muscles coiled like a spring. My fingers twitched, instinctively ready to grab his wrist mid-swing should he decide to strike. But instead, he answered with words alone, and I had to remind myself that this man didnât hold the same authority as my brother. His words carried the same weight, certainly, but they lacked the jagged edge of Gilbertâsâno profanities, no accusations of failure meant to cut deep.
I took a slow sip of water, listening to his justifications. Whatever role he played in this universe was his business; I had no desire to have a say in it., I told myself mantra-like. One Prussia was more than enough for any manâs lifetime. Yet, as much as I cursed Gilbert and his unorthodox, often maddening methods, he was effective. Even though a cold knot formed in my gut every time he headed toward the Bendlerblock, a part of me still trusted him to want the best for Germanyâfor us. He might be a relic, an anachronism with his name erased from the map, but his spirit still resonated in every marching order and every bureaucratic stamp hammered onto a form. And perhaps he was right, and I would have fallen apart at the seams if it werenât for him.
My gaze flicked from my glass to Lily. She responded like a well-trained parrot, echoing whatever truth her father had fed her. If that fantasy helped her sleep at night, I wasn't going to be the one to crush it. Not again. If I wanted to fight demons, I had plenty waiting for me at home; there was no need to bloody my hands on foreign soil, battling ghosts that didnât belong to meâno matter how unsettling it was to have those crimson eyes staring me down.
I met his grin with a stiff, formal smile of my own when he mentioned Bavaria, giving a sharp nod of confirmation.
âHeâs going through what I would generously call a mid-life crisis,â I said. âThough he isnât alone. Half the family is acting⌠anxious. Itâs a familiar sentiment that, unfortunately, tends to rub off on me. I feel like we all need a break to get our priorities straight.â
The smile turned wary. In the back of my mind, I could hear my brotherâs voice screaming that nations donât get breaks. We adapt, we endure, we move. There is no stop button, no reset. We simply play the same games over and over until the board is cleared.
âHunting as a hobby? No,â I replied to his question. âNot unless I have to.â
Iâd endured plenty of occasions where men who called themselves âfamily entrepreneursââthe wealthiest five percent of the countryâhad wrapped an arm around my shoulders and dragged me into the woods to prove their 'manhood' through the theater of killing.
âAs a boy that was different, though. I used to be a very good hunter. And an excellent sharpshooter.â I emptied the glass, trying to wash down the phantom, stale taste of gunpowder and rot that always seemed to linger when the subject came up. âI simply lost the appetite for it after the war, if you know what I mean. I prefer watching Biathlon these days. Itâs⌠less savage.â
I turned my attention back to Lily, my voice taking on a sharper edge. âDo you have a taste for it? Though I suppose the question is somewhat redundant for a former Stasi agent.â
Liliane looked at Ludwig, a frown creasing her brow at his tone. Really, there was no need for him to be so curt with her now. "As a matter of fact, I do," she said, looking him dead in the eye, challenging him to make some quip about it. "But I prefer it as a social sport, or as a chance to spend time with my father."
Prussia seemed pleased by both her answer, and her little frown at their guest. So, there was some trouble in paradise between them. Or there could be at least. But he would save that card for later.
"You say you lost your appetite for it after the war. I have found it to be the opposite for myself," he said. "I was made for the hunt, for conquering. In lieu of lacking a proper battlefield for that, I find the woods will suffice for now."
There was a moment when he drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair and considered a thought. Then, he stood up.
"Speaking of woods, I would like you come with me. A little brisk, pre-dinner walk."
Liliane rose with Ludwig, but her father shook his head and patted her shoulder.
"No, no. Not you, dear. Just him. I think we need to speak man-to-man, as it were. Just stay here."
Liliane looked both disappointed and concerned. But she wouldn't argue with him. "Oh. Yes, Papa. Of course." She waited until the men left to sit back down though.
Prussia led his guest through the house towards the back without a word. He offered no commentary on the decor or well polished wood that they passed by. Instead, they went straight out the back door and into the currently barren garden outside. All the plants had fallen asleep in the cold, and frost touched the bare branches that remained. He didn't stop upon the patio, but kept walking further, towards a clump of trees further away. Once they were among the trunks and branches, he turned to fully face the German behind him.
"Now, since we are alone, let us speak plainly to one another. I want you to tell me, truthfully, what your intentions are here. Do not waste my time with lines of making peace with me. We both know that you didn't come out of a desire to see me again, nor did I agree to host you for some longing to see your face in my home. We're both here because a certain girl back there looked at us with pleading green eyes and begged us to make peace with each other. So, Dr. Dr. Beilschmidt. What are your intentions with my daughter?"
The mental image of Alex and a pair of swingers fucking up was, frankly, the most refreshing thing Iâd heard all day. At least one Beilschmidt knew how to properly throw a holiday party. A part of me almost regretted not being invited to that dinner instead. Joining them for a night of hedonistic clubbing and letting some stranger in latex fuck the stress out of my system sounded significantly more entertaining than this.
Alex never called me back, though. A pity. The amount of chaos we could have unleashed together, just to see the look on his father'sâ
No, Ludwig. Stop. I reigned in the thought immediately. I wasn't fourteen anymore, and I had promised Lily I would behave like a functioning, responsible adult.
âDie Jugend von heute...,â I murmured with a practiced, vague nod, as if I were commiserating with Herr Beilschmidtâs disappointment. I ran a hand down my tieâa gold silk with a subtle herringbone patternâwhich Iâd carefully paired with a navy suit and matching brown leather shoes and belt. Realizing I was fidgeting, I forced my hands to go still, folding them in my lap in an exact mimicry of Lilyâs posture.
We must have looked like two children summoned before the patriarch to be told we were being written out of the will. It was a miserable, familiar feeling.
âMy brother?â I blinked, the question dragging me out of my internal monologue. A dry, bitter laugh nearly escaped me. The last time my brother had truly âhostedâ a family dinner was Christmas 1914. While entire generations were being ground into the mud of the trenches, he had insisted we endure the âtemporaryâ hardships for the sake of the inevitable win. Back then, I couldnât swallow the roast and pudding fast enough to keep up with the lies he was feeding me.
âNo, we rotate the responsibility between the representatives of the existing regionsâ,â I paused, biting my lip as I realized how that sounded to a man who represented a state that no longer officially existed. âIn my world, that is. By no means do I wish to imply that your own position is... obsolete.â
I offered another stiff, forced smile and a clipped âDankeâ as Frau Wagner set down the water. Lily served us with a quiet, diligent grace that felt almost out of place in a room this tense.
âIt was Maxâs turn this year. Bavaria,â I continued, taking a sip of the sparkling water. âIt was... a delightful dinner.â
That was a lie. It had been an administrative nightmare. Max had enforced a strict 'no-veggie crap' rule that had sent Berlin into a fury. Between the two of them hurling insults and bratwurst across the table, and Saxony choosing that exact moment to start a screaming match with the Ruhr Valley over industrial subsidies, it was a miracle no one left with a black eye. Compared to them, Gilbert had been a saint that evening. I was surprised he even came; usually, he avoided Bavaria like the plague.
âVery lively,â I added, my sarcasm bone-dry. âThe kind of 'familial bonding' that usually requires a professional mediator and a high-limit insurance policy.â
There was the slightest narrowing of eyes, the smallest shifting in position from the Prussian. Liliane sensed it instinctively and she kept herself from nudging Ludwig as a warning. Instead, she looked down at her glass of water before drinking from it.
Herr Beilschmidt sipped his water slowly, his eyes never leaving Ludwig. He seemed to be weighing options of remarks to say. Then, he set the glass to the side.
"I know what you think of me. I know what the majority of my so-called family thinks of me as well. That I am some kind of relic, an antique meant for display only. A museum piece. But that's wrong, and I think you know that as well as I. My influence cannot and will not be forgotten or escaped from. I live on, despite everyone's best efforts at the opposite. If I were truly without purpose anymore, I would have ceased to exist, like so many before us. So, I play my role, even when it calls for being everyone's favorite villain. I will not let what I've built fall apart again."
Liliane had kept her gaze down on her water, but when he finished speaking, she looked up and over at him. "Papa," she said in a soft voice, "I don't see you as a villain."
As he met her eyes, there was the faintest of smiles tugging at Prussia's lips. "You...have often been an exception to many things, my dear."
Liliane blinked and felt warmth rising in her cheeks. Before she could say anything though, he had returned his attention to Ludwig. This time, a slight grin had come upon his face.
"So. What I'm hearing from you then is, even in another universe, Bavaria is insufferable? Ha. How fitting. I do not envy you of that dinner then. And you," he said, turning back to Liliane, "had better not bring that Bavaria here. God knows the one we have is more than enough."
The Berliner smiled, encouraged by the rare joke from her father. "Oh, Papa, I would never. I know better than to ever do that. I don't have a death wish."
A dry huff escaped the Prussian. His way of laughing. He looked at Ludwig again. "Speaking of death...do you ever hunt, boy?"
What they never show on screen is Luke Skywalker leaning against the inner bulkhead of a spaceship after some intergalactic travel, losing his lunch. The movies make it seem like completing the Kessel Run through the Maw Cluster in twelve parsecs is as easy as coasting down a driveway in a bobby car. It isn't.
I pulled my Benz into the nearest parking lot, rolled the window down, and took a deep breath. Hooking a finger between my tie and collar, I loosened the silk just enough to breathe before resting my forehead against the steering wheel, silently cursing every single second of this journey.
The Holy Spirit of Christmas, my ass.
Once I was sure my lunch would stay down, I pulled back onto the street and followed the address Lily had given me. Another half hour later, I parked in front of a pleasant house in Pankow-SchĂśnhausen, not far from the palace. Compared to the suffocating, nature of the countryside estates I grew up in, this place almost managed a cozy atmosphere. Judging by its architecture, it was originally built for a well-to-do bourgeois family, only to be flipped for millions on the modern real estate market as a so-called Stadtvilla with atmosphere and developmental potential. Iâll spare everyone the commentary on double standards for now; obviously, if youâre going to hire a professional chef, youâd better have a kitchen that matches the portfolio.
At five minutes to one, a heavy door creaked open to reveal a sturdy older woman. Her outfit was a stylistic choiceâsomewhere between the BDM and the NVA. She scrutinized me as if I were some wayward youth intent on kidnapping the daughter of the house for a scandalous night out. It made my skin prickle. Perhaps it was because her eyes reminded me far too much of Mariaâs; the unspoken questionâ'Are you about to cause trouble, boy?ââhung thick in the air.
âJust Ludwig,â I countered when she attempted to greet me by my full surname and academic titles. I forced a smile and stepped inside, finding the interior surprisingly more rustic than the façade suggested. âI heard the owner of this estate is a passionate hunter,â I remarked, shedding my coat while my gaze drifted over the walls.
When my eyes met a mirror, I caught sight of my disheveled tie and hastily straightened it. The housekeeper gave me a look of pure stone, handing back the gift bag Iâd brought. I took it with a clipped âDankeâ and followed her into what appeared to be the living room.
When she announced my arrivalâonce again insisting on the full litany of last names and degreesâI opened my mouth to correct her with another âJust Ludwig,â but the words died against her commanding tone. She stepped aside, revealing Lily and her father.
Wonderful, I thought, as Herr Beilschmidt met my gaze, his expression just as welcoming as the housekeeperâs. This had to be the most joyful household in all of Berlin. I could already imagine the riveting one-line conversations âPapaâ shared with Frau No-Nonsense. Ha, and I always thought that there was a tense atmosphere once Gilbert and I shared a room.
Lily rose from the couch, dressed like a Disney princess. She swirled toward me and snatched my hand, unbothered by the stifling air.
âFor you, itâs Dr. Dr. Beilschmidt,â I said sternlyâuntil a smile betrayed me. Instantly, I felt the dual âstare of deathâ from Prussia and the housekeeper, and I cleared my throat as heat crept up my neck.
âFrohe Weihnachten, and thanks for having me,â I said, accepting Herr Beilschmidtâs hand. I returned the handshake with a firm, professional squeeze. His eyesâa blood-red so reminiscent of my brotherâsâstill unsettled me. It took a conscious effort to release his hand and let go of the tension coiling between my shoulder blades.
âSparkling water, thank you.â I sat on the edge of the couch, placing the gift bag on the floor by my feet.
âI hope your Christmas holidays have been pleasant so far?â
As Ludwig sat down, Herr Beilschmidt turned to Frau Wagner. "We'll take three sparkling waters." The woman nodded once and then left the room. The Prussian then resumed sitting in his chair.
Liliane sat on the side of the couch closer to her father, so that she was now in between him and Ludwig, playing the part of being a buffer, or so she hoped. She smiled again at Ludwig.
"Hmm, yesterday was...adequate," said Herr Beilschmidt, "Although it could have been better all the same. I'll spare you all the details, but suffice it to say that my degenerate son will not be coming into my house again for a long time."
"Alex brought a pair of swingers that he's dating," whispered Liliane. She glanced at her father who was frowning at her. "Well he might as well know, Papa. Better to hear it from us than the rest of the family, right?"
Herr Beilschmidt closed his eyes and sighed loudly, then opened his eyes again. "I suppose. But he hardly needs to know the details of our dinner last night," he said, giving her a stern warning in both look and tone of voice.
"Yes, Papa," she said softly, looking down at her hands.
He stared at her a moment longer, then returned his attention to Ludwig. "And you? Do you also gather your family under one roof to renew some familial bonds once a year? Does your brother host it?"
As Ludwig spoke, Frau Wagner returned and silently placed down a tray of bottles of nice mineral water and three glasses upon the end table that was between the armchair and couch. As the housekeeper stepped back, Liliane rose and poured the water into the glasses for all three of them. She handed one to her father, who gave her an acknowledging glance and nod, one to Ludwig, and held the third one for herself as she sat back down.
@mephistosfaust
When Ludwig knocked on the great estate door, it was not long before it was opened. He was not greeted by the master of the house, however, but by the housekeeper. An austere, middle-aged woman looked him straight in the eyes. Her hair was in a tight bun, and her dress was as pressed as a military uniform. For the brief seconds in which neither spoke, she seemed to be assessing if he was worthy to enter the grand house.
"Dr. Dr. Beilschmidt, I presume?" she said, though it wasn't a question. Of course she knew. She stood aside to let him in, taking his coat once he had taken it off, and hung it neatly in the closet with the others.
"They are in the living room. Follow me." With proud strides, she led him through the house, past closed doors, and towards an open area. Two voices could be heard conversing, though what they were saying was unclear. As Frau Wagner entered the living room, the voices ceased.
"Dr. Dr. Beilschmidt is here," she announced, standing to the side so Ludwig could enter. When he did, he would see two familiar faces looking at him, one smiling excitedly, though nervously too, and the other in a perpetual frown.
Liliane sat perched on the edge of the couch. She wore a long, deep blue skirt, a cream blouse, and a silvery cardigan over it. Her hair was simple, with a silver headband that held diamonds and sapphires. Her earrings and necklace matched. She rose to greet the guest.
"Ludwig! It's so nice that you're here now." She walked over to him and took his hand, leading him around the couch towards where her father sat in his armchair. She quickly dropped Ludwig's hand as they approached the Prussian. "Ludwig, you remember my father. Papa, you remember Ludwig." She smiled nervously at her father. "It's good that he's here now, yes?"
Prussia's eyes narrowed as he observed Ludwig's every manner and movement, as though looking for a twitch that would betray some ill-intentioned thought or nefarious plot. Then, he rose from his chair, smoothing out the creases on his dark blue suit, and walked over to Ludwig. He kept staring him in the eye, daring him to say or do something stupid. But then, he held out his hand to the German.
"Welcome, to my home," he said stiffly. As soon as they let go, he slipped his arm over Liliane's shoulders, subtly, but possessively, drawing her closer to him. He seemed to debate something in his mind for a moment, and then he said, "Would you like anything to drink?"
Pleas and PfeffernĂźsse
A/N: This is taking place right after my latest rp with @mephistosfaust. Lily got Ludwig to agree to another meeting with her father. Now, she just has to do the same with her father. Told from Prussia's POV though, as he demands my attention...and may be going through a certain, special, kind of internal growth here. >w< Enjoy! (Read More is for length only.)
As I sat in my library, enjoying the last equine magazine of the year, I heard a knock upon the door. I did not look up, but simply called out, âEnter.â I assumed it would be Frau Wagner, come to ask for a final detail about my upcoming Christmas dinner.Â
Frau Wagner did enter, but she was not alone, as I was soon to find out. âDr. Beilschmidt is here to see you,â said the housekeeper. My eyes rose and, as promised, my daughter was standing behind her, holding a medium white box in front of her. She was smiling at me.Â
I raised an eyebrow and set my magazine aside on the table next to the couch. âChild, this is unexpected.â I nodded towards my housekeeper. âThank you. I suppose you may set the table for two tonight.âÂ
The older woman nodded once and then left with a military march in her step. My daughter stepped forward, and her lip curled up more in that awkward way that it would when she was eager yet nervous to see me. I gestured for her to sit next to me, and she eagerly complied.Â
âTo what do I owe this visit?â I asked.Â
âPapa, I brought you some PfeffernĂźsse,â she said, holding out the box to me. As I took it, she added, âI just made them today. I made them as carefully as I could. I know how particular you are about them.âÂ
I opened the box and smelled the warm scent of the spiced cookies. There were just enough in there to satisfy me, without it being overindulgent. I could appreciate how well she understood me. As I set the box aside to be enjoyed later, I turned to her with a small smile gracing my lips. âThank you, my dear. Iâm sure I will enjoy these. Now, you didnât come here just to give me cookies, I assume. What else is on your mind?â
She didnât seem surprised that I had known she was here for more, which confirmed my suspicions that she had something important to ask of me. She bit her lower lip and then gave a lopsided smile. Ah, so it was some very big favor she needed then.Â
âPapa, sir, I have aâŚa bit of a favor to ask of you. Well, itâs more than a bit of a favor. Itâs kind of a big one. IââÂ
I held up a hand. âCalm down, child. What is it you wish to ask of me? Just state it plainly.âÂ
As she closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, suspicions in my gut grew. I was not going to enjoy what she had come to ask of me.Â
She opened her eyes and I could tell she was forcing herself to look at me. Her hands clenched in her lap. âIâŚI wanted to ask if, well, if you might be open to hosting Ludwig, that is, the Germany from the other world, for lunch on the 26th?â Her voice squeaked at the end and she cleared her throat.
I stared at her. My mouth opened a fraction of an inch for a moment, and then I clenched my jaw tightly. As I narrowed my eyes, her gaze dropped down to her hands, and she could only glance at me every few seconds. She was braced for a blow, but I saw no need for that. Yet.Â
âChild, do you understand what you are asking of me? Not only are you asking me to host an unpleasant man whom I barely know, you are asking me to host a man who has killed me outside of wartime or conflict. Do you hear yourself, child?âÂ
She looked up at me with pleading eyes. âI know, Papa. I know it sounds terrible. But I was hoping you two could make peace with each other. Not like each other. I know thatâs too much to ask for. But at least make peace with each other. Please? I just want this feud between you two to end. I want to visit both of you, or have him visit me, without fear of a fight breaking out.â She paused. She leaned towards me with a renewed eagerness now. âWouldnât it be nicer for you too? You wouldnât have to think about him coming to kill you again. You wouldnât have to waste resources on having him followed or assassinated. Things could just be peaceful. Thatâs all Iâm asking for.â
I ran a hand down my face with a groan. I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. âMy dear, I was not made for peace. I was made for battle. Iââ My voice stopped in my throat as I looked back at her. Her green eyes were wide and wet with pleading and suddenly I was reminded of another woman, looking at me with the same look, begging me not to go back to the front. Truly, the cruelest thing Ilse had done was not to leave me, but to bless our daughter with her eyes.Â

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" we have a pain ball guns in the closet in the basement. We also have a couple of darts guns but those might not work as well."
"Paint ball will suffice. I will retrieve it. That will give you time to hide out back."
The Christmas Market Confession
A/N: Yeah, this is a little late for the Christmas market season, but it's set during that time, and shortly after the events with my last rp with @mephistosfaust in which her Prussia and Lily do the devil's tango together. Read more is for length.
As I stepped outside of my car, I breathed in the cold December air. A smile touched my lips as I looked around at the little Brandenburg town we had come to. I turned to Lilianne as she let Marie out of the back seat and attached her leash. âThis market is much nicer than the commercialized circus back in the city,â I said. âHere, weâll find authentic craftsmanship.âÂ
Her mouth formed a slight pouting look, and I raised an eyebrow at her. She swiftly corrected her expression.Â
âDo you disagree, child?â
âNo, Papa, itâs not that. I justâŚI like my markets too, thatâs all. I have to have a sense of pride in them. Itâs my job. But Iâm happy to be here with you today.âÂ
I gave a single nod of agreement and then led her and my dog into the marketplace. Warm smells greeted us as we walked between the stalls. I scanned the area for the better stalls. When I saw one selling high quality pens and other writing tools, I went to it. I bent over to get a closer look.Â
âYou look like a man of taste,â said the seller. âAnything catching your eye?â
I did not smile. Flattery would not tempt me into buying an overpriced pen, even if it did have a fine nib and a cherry wood finish. I stood up straight and looked at him. I shook my head and turned away. The seller tried to call me back with promises of other merchandise, but I was already walking away. Lilianne walked beside me.Â
âI thought you would have liked that pen, Papa,â she said. âWhy not buy it for yourself?â
âDiscipline, child. You cannot indulge every whim you have. Itâs not healthy. Do you understand?â
âYes, of course.âÂ
âGood. Now, I suppose you must have a list of people youâre searching for gifts for, yes?â
âI do.âÂ
âThen let us search.âÂ
We strolled through the market, and I allowed her to choose where to go. She bought two leather menâs wallets, some fancy cheeses, two bottles of wine, and a bright pink purse. She also lingered at a knife stall for some time, but ultimately sighed and walked away empty handed.Â
âAre you hungry now,â I asked.
âYes, Papa. Do you want to stop for lunch?âÂ