Prussia x Reader | Marching Home

June 16, 1871 | Berlin, German Empire

The rhythmic thunder of marching feet could instill a magnificent sense of fierce, phenomenal pride in any heart. It was an overwhelming swell of unity, unconditional fraternity, and irrepressible vigor to witness ranks upon ranks of victorious brothers-in-arms in matching deep blue uniforms and spiked silver helmets glinting under the sun. Banners of the crowned eagle snapped and soared in the wind all about Berlin, overseeing the triumph through sharp, vigilant eyes. The mass of spectators was deafening, but even so, the disciplined left-right-left-right repetition of the infantry and the snort and clatter of the cavalry proved louder still to Gilbert's ears.

It was near impossible to wipe the grin off his face and maintain the stern, dignified guise of a noble Prussian officer. Even his horse was giddy from absorbing the stunning surge of energy emanating from the troops, the crowd, and Gilbert himself. The young officers beside Gilbert also found their hearts pounding with the beat of the drums.

It wasn't just any ordinary victory. It was an unprecedented aftermath that baffled the whole of Europe. France, rusting in the decades without Napoleon Bonaparte, had staggered, stumbled, and finally collapsed at the feet of a bitter foe. Napoleon III was captured at the Battle of Sedan as the definitive proof of French military inferiority against the Prussians. The four-month long bombardment at the Siege of Paris exhausted French morale and the eventual surrender was a sure sign of crushing defeat. On terms of the Treaty of Frankfurt, the French territory of Alsace-Lorraine was handed to the Germans as gains of imperial conquest. Equally pivotal, the kingdoms of Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, Wurttemberg have ceased individuality along with twenty-three other states. That, however, was not a matter of sorrow but of national jubilation. The paramount outcome of the Franco-Prussian War was the coalescence of twenty-seven German states which ensued in the establishment of the German Empire. The exponential rise of the German race: that was what Berlin was celebrating.

Gilbert swallowed nervously as the Brandenburg Gate loomed into the clear, blue sky. He had to squint to see the rear of the Quadriga atop the triumphal arch. His gloved hands gripped the reins and the sensitive creature beneath him snorted, perhaps sensing his sudden anxiousness. One of the older officers glanced pointedly at Gilbert, reminding him to retain proper posture and set his gaze straight ahead, right between the thick pillars of the Gate. Gilbert squared his shoulders and breathed slowly, immersing himself in the lively pulse of the parade. The Gate's shadow momentarily vanquished the sun and he felt his heart speed even faster as he stepped under arch.

Pariser Platz unfurled. The crowd, stretching as far as the eye can see from the parallel sidelines of the avenue, was louder than ever. It was a hearty array of bright eyes, broad smiles, waving hands, and fluttering flags. It was a gallant hero's welcome and every worthy soldier in the procession who calls himself German was an idol. The infantry behind Gilbert never broke stride. As he urged his horse forward to match his pace with the other officers, Gilbert absently wondered if he would ruin his formation if he was marching. Although his face never moved, his eyes were sweeping over the endless sea of people, his mind distracted as he searched for a familiar face.

[Name] promised she'd be at the very front so he could spot her, but that would prove difficult for both of them. The square was filled to the brim as people heaved against one another, elbow to elbow, shoulder to shoulder, to catch a glimpse of the parade. Gilbert doubted she'd be able to squeeze to the front unless she reserved her space hours before, and even then, he was skeptical that he'd be able to spot her among the thousands and thousands of faces.

A little disappointed, he stopped glancing side to side and rested his gaze on the regiment in front of him. If anything, this lapse in his plans made his heart burn stronger with yearning. Patience makes a reunion more worthwhile, more heartfelt. They've been biding for months –nine months, to be exact. A couple hours would hardly make a mark in comparison, but it would certainly feel dreadfully, dreadfully long.


The sun was already setting by the time he finished the odd duties he had to do before he could leave the barracks. Some of the officers were still slaving away at their desks with tedious paperwork -the downside of attaining a significant rank- while others were finished with the day and ready to join the festivities of the joyous evening. People had filtered out of parade grounds to huddle in merry taverns and bars for heady rounds of beer and drunken cheer. Those who had families and loved ones in the city quickly sought homely comfort and the dreamy prospect of a hot meal and a warm bed.

Gilbert didn't bother to cover his yawn as he tread through the halls. The hours had crawled by unknowingly as he scribbled across documents and briefly attended a meeting to listen to some old general drone on and on in his dull, lethargic monologue. Several men had invited him for a drink but, to their surprise, he declined. He was eager to return home and more importantly he was keener to fall into the arms of a lover tonight than find himself tomorrow terribly hungover in an overcrowded tavern, collapsed in a heap among strangers stinking with alcohol.

His hasty pace slowed when he noticed a congestion of officers, all of them approximately his age and most of them he knew. They were peering out the window, sniggering mischievously like schoolboys.

"What's going on?"

A few fellows glanced at him, wide grins on their faces. It was Dietrich, a Hessian officer whom Gilbert got to know quite well during campaign, who cheerily answered him: "We've got a girl lingering by the alley. She's been standing there for something over an hour now with a boy –her brother would be an unlikely guess. Albrecht went down to check her out. That oaf thinks he can get her in bed with him tonight."

For some odd reason he couldn't bring himself to share their mirth. His curiosities were satisfied when he, too, leaned over the windowsill and instantly recognized the pair.

He swore at the top of his voice.

Gilbert shouldered past the startled men and madly dashed down the stairs, bursting through the door just in time to wrench the Bavarian away from [Name] and Ludwig.

The men upstairs watched with amused interest as Gilbert seized Albrecht by the collar. He looked very much like he'd enjoy wringing the life out of his fellow officer. Albrecht was a little taller and slightly thicker in build than Gilbert, but the Prussian was able to wrench past those complications without hesitation. Their noses were almost touching as Gilbert growled lowly, "That's my girl you're getting at, Albrecht. Fuck. Off."

Albrecht stared at him for several moments, utterly dumbfounded, his jaw slightly agape as he comprehended the rage in Gilbert's eyes. Then with a booming abruptness, he burst into laughter, nearly doubling over as the officers on the upper tier roared alongside. Gilbert released Albrecht, his pale cheeks coloring a red as he shot accusatory scowls at the men he was supposed to call his 'comrades'.

Gilbert rolled his eyes at the jeers and zealously curled an arm around [name]'s waist. He swept her forward and pulled her close to his side in an intentional gesture of possessiveness. "Let me tell all of you pricks right here, right now –especially you, Albrecht, you bastard- that this lady," –he bent down and snatched a kiss on her lips, raising a chorus of hooting from the men- "is mine and mine alone. Lay a finger on her, I will knock the living daylights out of you and won't regret a single bit of it. Have I made myself clear?"

They lazily saluted him, "Aye's" and "Yes, sir's" drawling from smirking lips.

Gilbert was then grinning from ear to ear. He wasn't the type of person to sulk when he became the butt of a joke. Heck, he had more than his fair share of fooling around with other men, and it was only a show of good sport that he be jested from time to time as well. "Get your asses back to work, officers," he hollered. "When you're done, grab a couple rounds of drink, and I hope you find yourselves sleeping with the rats in the gutters next morning."

The men chuckled as they dispersed, some of them whistling and blowing kisses at [name] before they left. Shrinking into his arms, [name] was blushing and looking very flustered as Gilbert whisked her out of the alley, Ludwig trailing behind them.

"Was that absolutely necessary?" she asked in a small voice.

"A man has to assert himself over his competition every once in a while, liebling," he replied sweetly. "You don't want to fall for any of them, trust me."

When the barracks were out of view and they entered a larger street, he let her slide out of his protective arms. Gilbert turned to his brother, who was padding a few steps behind, and hooked an arm around his neck with a look of mild surprise. "Ludwig, have you gotten taller again?" he demanded in disbelief. "How old are you? Fifteen? You're couldn't have grown nearly as tall as your brother in nine months! Is the Academy putting you through hell because we beat the crap out of France or are they going to slack because we beat the crap out of France?"

"Gilbert, you know France isn't the only country we're concerned about," Ludwig said under his breath. "Britain and Russia are on the tips of their toes because of what we did."

"What we did? Ludwig, we're an empire!"

Ludwig scrunched his eyebrows. "Exactly. France is also fuming over Alsace-Lorraine."

"Oh, lighten up! You're going to look like an old man by the time you reach twenty." Gilbert gently punched his brother on the shoulder. "I got Alsace-Lorraine for Germany. When you're out of the Academy, it's going to be your job to keep it that way, alright? Oh, and did any of you see me in the parade?"

"We did!" [name] exclaimed. "We were waving at you but you didn't see us."

"Did I look awesome?"

"You did," Ludwig admitted a little glumly.

Gilbert laughed. He remembered how disappointed his little brother had been when the gears of war began to turn. Even now it was strange to realize that Ludwig was still very young. Fifteen, still a boy, but already so engrossed by the bowels of military service. He was emerging as the top of every class and Gilbert was in no way denying that he was extremely proud of Ludwig. Both brothers were serving the best professional army in the world and it was a grand honor.

"Maybe next time, Ludwig," Gilbert said. "The next time Berlin has a victory parade it's going to have both you and I in it."

Ludwig gave a small smile. "I'll probably be marching behind your horse."

Gilbert ruffled his brother's hair, messing its orderly sleekness and making Ludwig duck away with a laugh. "If you want to be next to me, you better fight tooth and nail to get there. But don't go up too fast," he added, "I don't want my little brother surpassing me any time soon."

Ludwig only shrugged.

Dusk had settled over Berlin when they paused by the equestrian statue of Frederick the Great. Ludwig bid [name] and Gilbert farewell and left for his own living quarters by the Academy. Alone, under the dimness of the sky and a few streetlights, the couple glanced at each other. The night wasn't precisely quiet, but it was peaceful. Further along the street of Unter den Linden, they heard the giggle of a girl accompanied by her uniformed partner ambling past. In a nearby alleyway, a tavern had risen to a song of muffled, incomprehensible words that floated idly through the air.

"Let's go home," she murmured, resting her hands on his elbow. Her breath was perilously close to his ear.

Gilbert looked at her. His heart was aching and when it was aching, he couldn't possibly stop himself from crumbling entirely to its desires. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her lips deeply and soundly, opening the flood gates to the emotions he had repressed for so long. God, he missed her. And he missed her more and more as she laced her fingers behind his neck and kissed him back with matching fervency. It was erratic and volatile, not alike a systematic march. He was jumping from one extreme to another, he was falling head over heels; it was the greatest relief and he loved it.

She was the first to pull away and giggled at how his lips greedily followed hers until the last moment. Their arms were still wrapped around each other. Their gaze never broke. The drunken singing had escalated into the Berlin air, but in their world, it had dwindled to near nothingness. Everything was tranquil after its period of pomp and circumstance.

"Let's go home," he whispered.

Her smiling lips very softly brushed his once more. Her arms slid from his neck, pausing briefly to cup his jawline before falling against her sides. Gilbert still had an affectionate hold around her waist. They began to walk and the last stretch of the march home dwindled to two intimate pairs of footsteps, a reminiscing trace of the day and a fading echo in the night.