Drawn away by a force more powerful and tempting than his simple curiosity could ever be, Gilbert stepped back from the door and made sure to close it. A servant took his place to make sure no one disturbed them. As he made his way over to the steaming pool in the middle of the room he let his eyes enjoy the sight of Frederick already relaxing in its depths, not a stitch of clothing on him and watching Gilbert with one of those looks of his that made Gilbert's skin prickle with gooseflesh. He offered a matching smile to Fritz's grin and sat himself on the edge of the pool, submerging his feet while keeping the rest of himself dry.

A raised eyebrow was Frederick's response. "I assure you, you will be just as safe in here as you would be up there," he said, resting his arms on the edge and then his chin on top of them. He was dripping water on the Roman mosaic patterns that curled along the edges of the pool, but seemed not to care.

Gilbert's smile widened, his eyes roving over the planes Frederick's shoulders and back, tangled through with the swirled patterns that his wet hair played along them. He never got to see his king like this, at least not in the light of day, and he greedily picked out new details that he could see in this brighter, clearer light. "Of that I am quite certain," he said, reaching out and running his fingers through that hair, just like he had done the other night. The water made it look darker, hid all the hints of red and washed it out to pure brown, but even so seeing it without powder or a wig was a rarity.

He heard a soft chuckle and the muscles he traced under his fingertips relaxed further. "And it feels excellent," Frederick continued, his voice slurring just slightly. "Honestly, who goes into a compound famous for its medicinal baths but never uses them?" His fingers plucked at the edge of Gilbert's dressing gown, running the silk between them.

Gilbert twirled a bit of hair, trying to ignore his desire to shiver at the sensation of wet skin under his touch. "I am not sick, though," he said.

"You were sick quite recently."

"And thanks to your efforts, I am feeling much better." He gave Frederick a reassuring smile. "I rarely get sick, anyway. That privilege falls to you, I am afraid." And he was glad to see his king improving. He looked much more relaxed now, far less pale than when they had first come to Aix-la-Chapelle, when he had been running on the last dregs of his energy.

"That does not stop you from enjoying the purifying qualities of the water, regardless," Frederick replied at once. "No matter how you feel now, you will always leave feeling better. Besides," he paused, the line of his mouth growing soft, "I would most enjoy your company."

Now that... well that was just plain unfair. Gilbert forced his smile to stay in place while he peered down at his king and traced his neck lightly. "You have my company here," he said, indicating to himself with a grand flourish.

Frederick's eyes narrowed, an edge coming into them to do battle with the tenderness that had peacefully occupied them moments before. "You know what I mean," he said, lifting his head. His stare was downright unnerving now, searching his face until he wanted to squirm. "Why are you so hesitant to join me? Are you afraid of us being seen together?"

The very idea made him ridiculously happy. But his skin prickled everywhere when he tried to imagine it. Removing his robe, stepping into the water to relax next to his lover--gods he wanted to, he wanted to show the both of them off the world and to let them know that Frederick was his alone, but he would be so exposed there. It felt as if every thread in his robe was pressing against his scars, making him painfully aware of the sheer multitude of them that overlapped each other on his body, spelling centuries of pain, battles, loss, and torture. He pulled his robe tighter around him, focusing on the feeling of fabric on his skin so it might chase away the crawling. "It is not that, no one would care here anyway," he said. "I would want nothing more than to be with you, in sight of everyone." Not as if this particular room was a good example but nearly all of the facility was public anyway.

But he could tell from the expression on Frederick's face that he had slipped up, had said or done something to give himself away because it was that look, the one where he was in battle and changed his plans to exploit a sudden weakness. "Are you afraid of what I'll see when you take this off?" Fritz asked, low and serious while his hand tugged on the dressing gown for emphasis.

Gilbert swallowed, his fingers twitching against the cool fabric. He silently cursed his king for being too observant and intelligent for his own good and doubted that this would be the last time that he would do so. He had no words to say to that, nothing he could put coherently anyway, so he said nothing.

A moment later Frederick sighed and let go of the robe, placing his hand on Gilbert's knee instead. "I don't mind your scars at all, Gilbert. You know that." His thumb stroked gently, tracing the edge of an old burn scar. Gilbert's feet and calves were covered in them, some more noticeable and some barely a different shade of color than his regular skin, and Frederick looked at them all with an untroubled face.

It took an effort not to sigh. "You say that now," he muttered, "but your past sightings of them were during the night, by the light of candles. It is easy to be deceived by them."

"I think you should let me be the judge of what I will think," Frederick responded.

Gilbert's head whipped down to meet the hard gaze boring into him. A second or two passed, the longest moments of his life, before Frederick softened. "Do you really think I am so heartless as to suddenly revile the sight of your body? Especially when I have already seen it?"

He felt something inside of him grow soft as well. Something that had been holding itself tense, quivering in anticipation for some blow perceived to be forthcoming. "I do not think that you will," he said slowly. "But it has happened before. People look at me differently after they have seen me."

Frederick gave him another look, searching his face, then smiled again. "Then they are not the people whose opinions you should give such high regards to. That is not my confident Prussia speaking to me." His hand trailed higher, sliding a bit of fabric away to reveal a pale scar that crossed Gilbert's thigh for two inches. He examined it for a moment before bending down to kiss it. The contact sent shivers down Gilbert's spine. "They are all a part of you. I could not possibly hate or be repulsed by them."

Gilbert watched him in disbelief, not even aware that he had been holding his breath the whole time until his lungs started to ache from it. "There are many more than that," he said, his words coming out in a rush. Even then they held less weight to his ears, as if he had made them as light as the air in his lungs by holding them back. "And they look worse."

"I am aware," Frederick said. "Remember, I have seen a great deal of them already." He looked up again, eyes light and very blue under the lashes that framed them. "Will you not give me a chance, at least?"

He was so gentle, so pleading in his words. Gilbert could not help but smile at him and relax, letting go of the fabric that he had been holding so tightly. The answering stroke on his thigh and the wider smile from his king decided it for him. He still hesitated for a fraction of a second as he opened his gown, but that did not stop him from shrugging it from his shoulder to pool at his hips. Then he took a deep, steeling breath, and slid into the pool next to Frederick.

Frederick's eyes had changed. They were wider now, shock sweeping through them along with what might have been a fraction of horror. But no--as Gilbert searched and searched again for--revulsion, pity, fear, or any of the number of ways people usually reacted and annoyed him. More like the expression of someone who had prepared for something and what they got was not what they had expected in the least. That was new.

"You certainly weren't exaggerating when you said the dim light hides them," Frederick said mildly. His gaze roamed over him with an alacrity and light in his eye that Gilbert could not place a name to. One of his hands reached up, then paused, hanging in the space between them. "May I?" he asked, turning his hand a little to show its innocuousness.

Curiosity. That's what he was seeing. Gilbert blinked, all at once feeling strangely shy and yet curious himself. What was he intending to do? Where was his disgust, his fright at the sight of someone such as himself? "You may," he said, leaning back and plastering a smirk on his face.

Frederick dipped his head and smiled, then closed the space between them by grazing the scar on his shoulder. Ah, that one. Of course he would pick that one. It frightened everyone who saw it and he was certain that in a few moments the steam from the water would turn its normal pale pink to a belying red. Frederick's fingers were infinitely gentle, touching only the edges and bring a shiver across his body from the feeling. Immediately Fritz pulled back. "My apologies, did I hurt you?" he asked.

The kingdom shook his head, the grin on his face real this time. "No, no, it doesn't hurt at all," he assured, moving closer. "In fact it feels rather nice. Tingles a little."

"Oh?" Frederick's worry morphed to mischief like a candle being snuffed. His hand was tracing along his back again. "Does it now?" The touch was bolder this time, still soft but now he could clearly feel where it was. It left his shoulder and moved down and Gilbert was surprised that no questions followed. There were always questions, and Frederick had one for everything. But the next time Frederick spoke it was not a question at all. "You have been whipped." A pause. "You have been whipped a lot."

Try as he might, he couldn't suppress the wince the words brought. "Yes, I have," he replied and waited. Now it was coming.

Except it didn't. Whether by his tone or Frederick's own intelligence, his king did not pry. But that couldn't be right, everyone always asked. Gilbert chanced a peek at Frederick to see what had sealed his restless and inquisitive mind so thoroughly and was startled to see that his eyes were dark with anger. Was he really so affected by the fact that he had been hurt in the past? That was...Gilbert had no idea what that was. The thought was new to him, no one had ever-

All at once his mind was silenced by Frederick leaning forward and kissing his shoulder, directly on his scar and heaven have mercy he thought just his hand had been torturous enough. "If I could, I would take this away," he whispered against his skin, soft and sad.

Surprise had silenced him. He had no idea what to say, he had never dealt with anything like this before, yet his hand seemed to be moving independently from his brain. His fingers brushed Frederick's cheek, then moved to tangle in those lovely locks of hair. "It is alright now," he said, "it doesn't hurt me anymore. It was a long time ago."

A sigh escaped Fritz and he pressed against the hand while moving to kiss another faint scar at the base of his neck. "Still, I would rather it not happen at all." His hand came around to stroke where his lips had been a moment earlier. "I would rather you to have never been hurt at all. To never feel the touch of a blade here."

He almost, almost slipped up. That one was my own fault. The words were forming on his lips then he stopped himself. If he said that then he would have to explain why it was his fault and the last thing Frederick needed to hear was a recount of Grunwald. He was already sad enough, he didn't need to hear that Gilbert had nearly died in the battle that earned him that particular scar. "But without them I would be different," he spoke instead.

Another sigh, but this one didn't sound as heavy. "That is the most painful part of all, cher," Frederick said, lifting his head once more. His eyes were sad, but he was smiling as he took Gilbert's face in his hands and kissed him. "Although I would not change you for anything. And they make you look very handsome, on top of everything."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow at that, halted from answering by his king kissing him again and he felt his lips curving into a grin in response to Fritz's own. "You know I've been called many things because of my scars," he said when they broke apart, "but handsome was never one of them."

There was a glint in Frederick's eye, chasing away the sadness that had taken residence there. "Then those fools had no idea what they were talking about," he dismissed them easily. His hands trailed up Gilbert's chest, mapping over the few there, and stopped by one that was inches away from his heart. "And here I am, at constant war with myself. Whoever gave you this mark was trying to kill you. If I had been there I would have him killed instead. But here you are now: alive, whole, but bearing marks of suffering that no man should have to live through. Is it wrong of me to wish them gone? Or more wrong that I should take away what makes you so strong and perfect?" His expression hadn't changed from that musing, half-sad and half-mischievous mix. Gilbert wasn't even sure if Frederick wanted an answer or was just voicing his thoughts out loud, he was still floundering after the sudden change in topic as he had been ready to quip that some of those people Frederick had called fools were his own ancestors.

Silence reigned for a moment before Frederick leaned forward to place a kiss on that scar as well; tender, gentle, worshipping not only the mark but the one who carried it.

Unease clenched in his gut at the sight. Gods he loved that, he loved watching Frederick kneel like that but it was also deeply and profoundly wrong. "Stop, stop," he whispered, putting his hands on Fritz's shoulders to push him away as gently as possible. "I cannot accept such homage," he said to that confused face, praying he could understand, "it is unworthy of a king to bestow it."

Frederick's face went blank. That kind of blank that made Gilbert's heart leap with it, and he stared. He stared so long and hard that Gilbert could see his own puzzled features reflected in his eyes and he began to feel even more uncomfortable from it. He had to have said something wrong, he had to, but he didn't know why it was wrong.

What he did know was that this was more than just an empty silence; Frederick was hiding from him, and that was the most painful truth of all. Slamming a door in his face would have achieved the exact same effect, but he knew there were thoughts bubbling under that cool mask the same way a pot of soup over coals boils only at the bottom. Gilbert was about to apologize--although pointlessly in his mind because he didn't see a good reason to except getting Fritz to smile again--but Frederick beat him to it.

"I'm not doing you homage," he said slowly, his mask slipping away now that he was done thinking. His hands came up to grab Gilbert's, lifting them from his shoulders and tangling their fingers together. "Not in the slightest. If you think that then you are very ignorant in the ways of love, in spite of all your years of age."

His heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest, it was so hard that he could feel the arteries in his neck beating against his skin until his head felt dizzy. Frederick didn't sound mad or disappointed but Gilbert couldn't tell what he sounded like. He floundered, searching for some sort of defense, and found nothing in his brain to help him. "I...have loved," he whispered, choosing his words with care, trying to understand the shape of what he wanted to say, "but I have never been in love." Saying those words and admitting that was like swallowing poison and only a second later his heart gave a particularly hard thud to remind him that this was all new and he was out of his depth. His gripped Frederick's hands to stop his own from shaking. "You'll have to teach me," he blurted out, hating every word of it but for Fritz he would do anything.

This time, his king chuckled. It felt like a knife slowly cutting into his flesh. "Oh, my dear, I cannot teach you how to love. No one can. It is simply something you do, act upon your feelings." His amusement vanished when he looked at Gilbert's face and he was reaching forward in an instant. "Shh, calm down cher, it is nothing bad. Ignorance is not a bad thing." He kissed him and stroked his face, following the paths of his fingers with his lips. "No one taught me either, and I am definitely no expert in the ways of love. Just--what do you feel now? Act upon them."

I feel like going and asking whatever gods that exist what in the world I ever did to deserve you, Gilbert thought, a fire burning bright in his mind. There was no way this could have been an accident, somewhere in the past he had to have done something good, something so pure-hearted that Fate decided to reward him by giving him the most perfect man he had ever met. The wave of emotion rising in him was crushing in its intensity, it felt like nothing he could ever say or do would satisfy it.

But Frederick had given him the best advice one could give him: to act. He certainly knew how to do that. He had to do something to settle his out of control emotions or else they would kill him and this time he was the one reaching, he was the one pulling his king into a kiss that tried to tell him everything he didn't have the eloquence to say out loud. But while it set his nerves ablaze, it was not enough. He wanted to do anything and everything for Frederick, the man who had done more for him, was still doing more, than he could ever hope to match.

Gods he just wanted to make Frederick happy. In any way that he possibly could.

He heard Frederick make a muffled noise and then he was being kissed back, lips moving in a slow dance around his that sent him into shudders. Water lapped at the edges of the pool, ripples of his movements creating little waves. Hands trailed up his chest, to his neck, teasing and coaxing and his body nearly jumped to meet them and the fiery warmth they left behind in his nerves. But it wasn't enough.

Gilbert let himself have one last nibble before he grabbed his king's hips--eliciting a surprised noise--and lifted him with no effort whatsoever. A breathless chuckle in his ear told him that Fritz understood then what he was trying to do, and Frederick was cooperating wholly, shifting his legs so his knees were on either side of Gilbert's and he was mere inches from straddling him. There, that was much better. As much as he loved the feeling of Frederick's hips under his hands, he loved the rest of him even more and his excited hands began to roam, starved for sensation of their own.

Wicked eyes grinned at him and he was kissing again, pressing closer and nearly writhing under the sensation of skin against skin, a moan building in his throat until Frederick shushed him. He wanted to be loud, to groan and cry out because he would burst if he didn't, but Fritz's hands had a way of running across his body and winding those feelings tightly, until they were spun up inside of him and he could do little but shake under the force of them. He could feel similar tremors in Frederick and tried to make his touch as slow as possible so he could feel every jump of his muscles, every quiver of anticipation. It was the slowest, sweetest torture he could imagine punctuated by kisses that were only a breath of relief before Frederick would kiss a scar and send him right back into the most exquisite heaven (or hell? there was sulfur around after all) on this earth.

When they finally broke apart Frederick was beaming, face flushed and bright, and Gilbert spoke first. "So, you really think my scars make me look handsome?" he asked, leaning back to let the light hit them fully. Shameless, yes, but he loved compliments too much to care.

The reply he got was a wider smile, something like a distant cousin to a grin. "Extremely attractive," Frederick corrected him, playing with the sounds of the words in a way that told he knew precisely what his nation was doing. He made a show of his eyes being drawn down, along with a touch that inevitably followed, drawing circles in his chest, flirting with the edge of that scar. "Call me insane, but where most men would look upon you in fear because they see scars and think danger, I think strength. I think preservation." His lips trailed after his hands, whispering the words like a prayer against his skin. "I can only think of how determined you must be to have gone through all of these and survived."

He could feel his breath getting quicker, nerves under his skin taunt as they waited for the next touch, the next word. He wanted to wait, he wanted to stretch it out but he couldn't, he felt like his skin was glowing from the praise and his hands were grasping Frederick and pulling him closer. "Go on," he said, his lips brushing Frederick's ear as he ran his nails gently down his back. Gods, his skin was so soft and warm from the water. He wanted every inch of it pressed against him.

"Oh," he heard Frederick say, his tone shifting in a way that went straight down Gilbert's spine. "But of course my brave nation. How could I not admire you?" His king glanced up briefly, his features grinning, before leaning in to kiss his chest and murmur against it. "Just look at yourself, standing so tall and strong after all those scars. You make me want to be that indomitable, that untouchable, you make me want to bow before you." He paused then, a wicked chuckle leaving him. "You like this, don't you?" he asked in a tone that already knew the answer.

No, he was not turning red, that was just the hot water. Gilbert cleared his throat and tried to clear his head along with it, trying to ignore the echoes Frederick's words whispering to him in his head. "Everyone likes being praised," he said, trying to shrug it off.

Frederick's smile did not change. "Likes it this much?" he replied and plunged his hand down to grab--

A choked gasp left Gilbert as fingers curled around him and heaven he had already been hard and now he could feel himself swelling more under Frederick's touch. "I-" he couldn't think, caught red-handed in his deception, "I-" then the hand started to stroke him and now he really couldn't think. He bucked into the grip, a moan building up in his throat.

Frederick kissed him again, pressing closer and oh he was hard too, Gilbert could feel it pressing against him. His hands roamed over his monarch, finding his hips and squeezing them hard, relishing in the feel. He got a wiggle as a reward, pushing into his touch and grinding their bodies together, he wasn't sure who was moaning but he could feel the noise deep in the core of his bones.

"Gilbert," Frederick whispered against his lips, his grip on his length tightening and giving him a slow stroke.

Another moan was torn from him and his nails scratched along Frederick's skin as he arched his back, a slave to the touch. He was being pulled by it like a leash and he went obediently. His chest was heaving, skin alive with thousands of sensations that washed over him in waves, one after another and heightening his senses until even the slightest brush against him made him shiver. "You'll make go even farther if you keep this up," he warned, even though every thought in his head was screaming for Frederick to say that it was fine and to keep going, that he wanted it-

"I want you to," Frederick purred into his ear, his breath curling across his neck in a way that the steam could not compare. He stroked him again and followed up his statement with a nibble along Gilbert's ear, a shudder wracking him as his nation moaned in response.

Thank the gods Frederick always knew what he wanted, as if he could read his mind. A sigh left him and he pulled Frederick close, settling him in his lap comfortably before moving his hands behind his king, fingers tracing teasingly along his skin. Warm and wet from the water, his finger slid in him without any resistance, then two.

Hearing Frederick's answering whine made him look up but the blissful, flushed expression he was met with silenced any concerns he had. He moved his fingers carefully, stretching and pressing against Frederick's soft walls while his king shuddered in his arms, hips rocking into his touches wantonly. The hand around him was stroking again and he could not help but move into it, creating a slow rhythm between the both of them that made muscles deep inside if him clench in sweet anticipation. A third finger joined in and now he really heard Fritz moan, the hand on his shoulder clenching so hard that the nails were digging into his skin the same way the muscles inside clamped down on his fingers. He could barely move them but that didn't stop him as he curled and pushed, his hungry eyes drinking in how Frederick writhed in response. "Frederick."

Glazed eyes fluttered open, staring at him before sharpening. "Yes, yes, let me-" on the same track as ever, Frederick let go of him and sat up straight, shuddering as Gilbert slipped his fingers out. "I'll need you to come forward a little," he said, beckoning to him.

"As much as I love it when you ride me, I don't think you'll be able to do it if I'm not laying down." Despite his skepticism, Gilbert still obliged. Thankfully the seat he was on was deep enough that he could inch forward without being in danger of falling off.

A breathy chuckle left his king. "Not with that state of mind, certainly," he said with a cheeky grin that made him look nothing like the calm, controlled man Gilbert and the rest of the world were so used to seeing. He crawled forward, his eyes never leaving the kingdom's as he pressed closer, thighs sliding along Gilbert's and his heart beating against his as he found his position and lowered himself. "Help me," he whispered, tilting his hips forward.

"Come here," Gilbert said, placing a hand on Frederick's back to guide him while trying to ignore the racing of his heart. Even closer, so close that he had to lean back a little as Frederick sank onto him.

The heat and tightness that enveloped him was incredible, Frederick took him so easily yet the way he clenched around Gilbert made him want nothing more than to bury himself inside of his king as deep as he could possibly go. A loud groan escaped him, echoed by Frederick, and he tried to arch up, but to no avail. The angle was too shallow, teasing them both but unable to give the depth they craved. Frederick scowled fiercely and tried to scoot closer but there was no room, his knees hit the wall of the pool. "W-wait," Gilbert gasped, an idea taking hold of him. His hands reached down, finding purchase in the soft flesh and squeezing, startling a gasp out of the other man. "Wrap your legs around me, I'll hold you." He smirked and squeezed again for good measure.

Frederick's frown lightened. He nodded and held onto him as he adjusted himself, letting Gilbert support him as he freed one leg to hook it around his waist, and then the other. The contact was maddening and Gilbert couldn't resist the urge to pull him close, nearly crushing Frederick against him with their faces inches apart and the legs tightened in response and gods. It was like being trapped and he loved it, loved how they held him so hard and everything in him coiled tightly in response. He bit down on Frederick's neck, wanting to sink his teeth there and imprint his mark on that lovely skin. I want you to remember this.

Frederick groaned and shuddered so hard in his grip that Gilbert couldn't stop himself from following suite. "Gilbert, please," Frederick begged, begged, trying to move, but to no avail as Gilbert was still holding him up.

As if the desire wasn't driving him mad already. "I know," he whispered back, lowering his king as he said and yes yes-

The heat enveloped him in response, so tight that it seemed to tug on every muscle in his body like strings in a spider web all wrapped around the core of his self, dancing to the pleasure that was plucked out of them. It was perfect, the feeling of filling Frederick and pressing against every inch of him, to feel him as no one else ever could. Fritz's nails were clawing him again, his face flickering through expressions of pleasure, longing, even a hint of madness that Gilbert watched with the same intensity of a man in a desert finding an oasis. Gods, being sheathed completely inside Frederick, how could he have lived so long without it? There was a moment where he simply sat, relishing in the feeling and waiting for his king to adjust to him, all the while listening to the quick pants against his neck. His knees started to ache, so he lifted Frederick up so he could cross his legs underneath him, creating a comfortable spot for them both.

Frederick gasped at the movement and jerked his hips in response. The albino responded swiftly, bucking up while pulling Frederick down, a sharp cry coming from Frederick as he thrust himself in deeply, holding his hips with enough force to bruise them. After that it was easy, both of them moving as fluidly as partners in a dance, Frederick swaying his hips and balancing on his shoulders while Gilbert held him and moved him, the both of them pressed so close together it was impossible to untangle them.

Water slapped against the edge of the pool, goaded into messy waves by their movements. Frederick's breath was hot on his neck, his ears, while his hands and legs gripped him ever tighter from the unrelenting thrusts he was riding into. His lips were on him and Gilbert kissed him back just as hard, finding no resistance as he pushed past Frederick's lips, only a sweetly teasing touch that sucked and caressed him in desperation and goaded him on. A small corner of Gilbert's mind told him that he was surely going to leave marks behind from the force of it all but the rest of his insane, one-track thoughts ignored everything that wasn't focused on loving his king as deeply, as thoroughly as he could put all of his soul into. Frederick was so hot, so tight around him and he just had to give him everything he could, it simply wouldn't be right otherwise.

Nails clawed at his back, accompanied by Frederick's strangled cry as his king lurched forward, burying into the crook of his neck and holding him as if his life depended on it. "I've always loved this," Fritz whispered against his skin in wild abandon. "When y-you hold me like this and-ah!-l-leave nothing to restraint." Panting, Frederick kissed along his neck, up to his ear to trace the edge with his lips, still desperately gasping his words out. "How strong you are even wi-with those m-marks and-and have so much power-"

Whatever he was going to say was lost in a shout as Gilbert hit him deep inside, the sound piercing right through the nation but Gilbert did not care. Frederick was perfect for him, too perfect and his words brought on an insanity teetering on the brink of pure, blissful pleasure but he could not, not he could hold him harder, move faster and drive the sensation higher and higher-

Frederick gave a shudder along his whole body, a final, strangled moan leaving him as his walls tightened harder than they had before, dragging Gilbert with him into his release. A hot flash jolted through him, fierce and culminating behind his eyes, robbing him of his vision for a brief second. It was pure perfection, everything good and right in the world as he sagged in exhaustion and held his love in his arms, their limbs tangled and breathing exactly the same. To hold his king like this, to fill him and know that only he could... Gilbert trembled at the very thought and hoped that Frederick would just think it was his tiredness. Even the heat and sulfur were muted to his senses, Frederick being the sole occupier of his attention. Gilbert smiled and ran his hands lazily up his back, trailing his fingers along wet skin and drawing aimless patterns as he went.

A spot of heat enveloped his shoulder as Frederick placed a kiss there, finally stirring himself in his kingdom's arms. "You," he said drowsily, sitting up to look at him through lidded eyes, "are beyond words."

Gilbert felt a smile curling his lips and he brought it into a full-fledged smirk. "I know," he replied, shifting so Frederick could sit more comfortably on him.

There was a scoff and Frederick dug a nail into his skin for a moment. "And horribly arrogant," he added. "But I love you anyway."

He chuckled gently. "I love you too, my dear." He helped Frederick as his king sat up and moved to get off of him, eventually ending up pressed against his side with a contented smile. Gilbert gave him a few moments of peace before grinning. "You know, it's a good thing we didn't invite Henry along for this one."

"Oh Lord!" Frederick said, a rare, delighted laugh springing from his lips that echoed throughout the room. It was loud and bright and it made Gilbert's heart soar and yes he made his king laugh! "Poor Henry is having a hard time here, no doubt. We keep ignoring him."

"Not right now, he isn't. He's out there somewhere conversing with some..." Gilbert frowned as he concentrated. "Dutchmen. Probably brushing up on his language."

Fritz tilted his head up to look at him. "You can sense that?"

"Mhmm. So you can keep the attention on me all you like."

Another, smaller laugh. "Oh no, you greedy little thing. I invited him along and the least I can do is be a good brother and spend time with him." Fritz stretched himself, resting further against him. He looked happy, truly happy and content with the world. "Besides, it's far too hot in here after all of that. I was going to get out soon anyway." He drew lazy patterns against Gilbert's chest as he said that, tracing over the scars as if they were not there.

The nation nodded and stretched out as well, slipping an arm around him and resting his hand on his hip. "Just tell me when, and we'll go back out there," he said, basking against his king for just a bit longer.

~~~ ((A/N: In 1742, shortly after the First War of Austrian Succession, Frederick was sent by his royal physicians to go to the medicinal baths at Aix-la-Chapelle (modern day Aachen) for two weeks of rest and relaxation. This was likely due a mix of *complete* physical and mental exhaustion. He had just come back from a war from which he was victorious, but while he had been warring, internal affairs had been neglected. Administration and finances were in disarray, the war chest was practically empty, the army needed more recruits, arms, cannons, horses, everything, along with expensive fortifications needing to be built in newly-conquered Silesia, the treasury held only three-million thalers and salaries still had to be paid... and the list goes on, and on, and on.

Frederick threw himself into work as soon as he got back, with a daily routine that began at four in the morning and ended at eleven at night, working on fixing these problems. Since he just got back from a war, it is small wonder that the workload caused his health to began deteriorating. Thus, his trip to the medicinal baths. Frederick himself wrote to his brother William: "We see many foreigners here, a number of Dutch officers, but very little distinguished company." Henry got dragged along, and Voltaire even stopped by for a visit. I have no idea what the baths looked like in the 18th century, but given the Romans were the first to build baths there I figured some of their architecture couldn't hurt.

Japan is so pretty here~

Jeez Switzerland is so sexy

Humans can become ‘bonded’ with a nation if they constantly spend time with them regardless of the nature of the relationship between the two, whether that’s romantic, platonic, or familial.

The lifespan of a bonded human can be extended due to constant close contact with a nation. However this doesn’t mean they stop aging. They will continue to grow old and will experience all of the problems that comes with being old ( bad memory, failing health, etc. ) but they won’t die unless the nation they’re bonded to makes the conscious decision to let them go.

The only way to tell if a nation and a human have bonded is if the human in question starts to experience the side effects of being bonded. That includes catching glimpses of a nation’s memories ( whether good memories or far more traumatic ones ) in the form of dreams and there have been known cases of humans being able to hear the ‘voices’ that can only normally be heard by the nation themselves. Not everyone can cope with being exposed to these things though, since the human mind isn’t designed to handle what a nation endures. Typical reactions to this range from a heightened inclination towards reckless behaviour to spiralling into madness.