Aim For the Face

Winters in the palace were beautiful. It was very cold, of course, but with the right clothes one could tramp around all day without freezing. The gardens were covered with snow, which had killed off all of the flowers and leaves and left behind nothing but a maze of snowy walls. King Frederick II slipped through these walls, keeping his feet on the paths that had been shoveled by the servants earlier that day. Normally he would not be outside with this kind of weather, but he had heard a few reports and complaints that drove him into the garden in order to find a certain albino that he had not seen or heard from since breakfast.

So far the only thing that he heard was his own footsteps. He knew his suspicions were weak at best, but really no other idea made sense. His sharp eyes scanned the area, looking for a pale figure, listening for a distinct laugh. The only other thing moving was one of the servant girls heading back to the kitchens. The King's steps slowed and he watched the girl carefully. She was all alone out here, practically begging for misfortune to pounce on her. He stopped completely and hid behind one of the corners created by a snow-covered hedge. For some reason he didn't want to get caught out in the open.

There was a small flicker of movement. Frederick narrowed his eyes, trying to see what it was and managed to catch a glimpse of something small and moving very fast. Not a moment later a large snowball hit the maid right on her face and sent freezing snow all over her bare face and neck. She shrieked in alarm at the sudden and unprompted attack and took off running, not caring in the least who saw her. As the echoes of her scream died away Frederick could hear something that sounded suspiciously like a "Kesesese." He sighed to himself and looked around. Going out into the open was obviously a death trap, so the tactician in him told him to go around the area. He took a few steps back and to the side, darting down a smaller side path that had yet to be shoveled out. He stomped through the knee-deep snow, inwardly cursing at all of the things he had to do.

He ended up in a more secluded area, where the hedges were higher and formed little enclaves where people could sit in relative privacy. It was a confusing maze, but Frederick had been here for many years and he knew exactly where he was going. He headed for the direction of the laugh he heard and came across one of the garden's hidden corners. Nestled inside was Prussia, peering through the bushes for more targets. His back was facing the king and he didn't seem to have heard him creep up. Frederick sighed quietly to himself and came up directly behind his country and tapped him on the shoulder.

Prussia leaped up and let out something that sounded a lot like a scream (it was a very manly scream, he would say later) and whirled around in shock. "Scheisse, Fritz! Don't do that!" He gasped, clearing his throat in an attempt to regain some of his dignity.

Frederick decided not to mention that he should have heard him coming. "What are you doing?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Prussia was not known for hiding out like this.

If the pale man noticed Fritz's vaguely disproving expression or tone, he ignored it. He gave one of his wide, cocky grins and replied airily: "Something awesome, of course!" He threw a quick glance back into the gardens.

"Throwing snowballs at unsuspecting passersby is hardly that," Frederick said calmly.

"Says you," Prussia retorted, scooping up a bit of snow in his gloves.

"Well when you get over fifteen complaints in the past hour it rather becomes an issue." Frederick told him, coming closer for a better view despite himself.

The snort Prussia gave voiced his opinion of this. "Tightasses, all of them," he said scathingly. "It's all in good fun." He looked up at the very top of the ledge. "Still keepin' a lookout, little buddy?"

He got a cheep as a reply, and his little bird companion (it was still hard for Fritz to keep a straight face at the name "Gilbird") came fluttering down from the branches. It landed in its usual perch on top of Prussia's head, still chirping happily. The King frowned in puzzlement at the thing tied around the chick's fluffy neck. How in the world had Gilbert managed to make a scarf small enough to fit his bird? Not only that, but the fabric matched on both of them. The albino poked his animal companion irritably. "Oi, you were supposed to keep a lookout. Why didn't you tell me Fritz was coming?"

"You know that he knows me too well to say anything," Frederick answered for him with a small smile. He learned very early on not to dwell on Prussia's habit of talking to birds, even if it was more than a little odd. Even odder was that sometimes—just occasionally, mind you—it was almost as if the birds could talk right back.

"Yeah, right," Prussia muttered testily, looking away. He peered out the bushes, pointedly ignoring the monarch.

"Jealous?" Frederick asked innocently, fighting down a smile. Gilbert flushed and before he could protest Gilbird started to chirp. In an instant he was peering back out of the hedges and a twisted grin spread across his face. "Perfect," he hissed, molding the snow into a tight ball.

Frederick did not like his look at all. He peered out to see for himself what had Prussia so excited and nearly choked when he recognized the figure walking across the gardens. "Gilbert!" He gasped, whirling upon the soldier. "Attacking a servant is one thing, but a member of the royal family is very different!"

The soldier tossed the snowball between his hands, still smiling. "C'mon Fritz, you know how laidback he is. He should get a bit of excitement in his life."

He was right, of course, which was why it was so hard for Frederick to keep his expression severe. From the way Gilbert was still grinning he wasn't doing a very good job. "That is my nephew and one day he will be your King as well," he said in a low voice.

That expression didn't change one bit. "We'll have to get to know each other then," Prussia replied and threw it.

"Gilbert!" Frederick gasped again and tried to grab it, but suddenly he was yanked down into a pile of snow.

"Shush!" Gilbert said excitedly, holding a finger up to his lips. A few moments later there was an angry yell and the country burst into giggles. "Oh man I wish I could see his face," he snickered, trying to keep quiet.

Finally, the smile that Frederick had been holding back appeared. He felt a bit guilty for laughing at his poor nephew, but Gilbert looked so happy like this.  It was worth it to lie in the freezing snow if he saw that infectious smile.  "You're awful," he said, although his tone was more affectionate than lecturing.

"And you love it," Gilbert shot back, cautiously peeking over the bushes. "Oooh, next target." He bent down and scooped up more snow.

Frederick looked as well. "Gilbert, this is seriously interrupting the servants' work..." He trailed off as Gilbert threw his next snowball and made them duck down again. He sighed and rubbed his temple. "Eventually someone is going to find this place."

The country helped brush the snow from their coats. "Yeah, but that won't be for a while," he said, listening to the distant scream. "I'm going to milk this opportunity for as long as I can." He sat back on his heels, not seeming to care if his clothes got wet. "You're welcome to join me," he said, smirking mischievously.

"No."

"But—"

"No," Frederick repeated. "I have more—" he tried to find a suitable word that wouldn't offend Gilbert and gave up "—mature things to do."

Rather than pout or frown, as Fritz expected, Prussia just snickered. "Being the stuffy old man again?" He asked amusedly. "I swear, sometimes you're worse than—" His gaze was drawn to something beyond the hedge and Fritz saw his jaw drop. "Mein Gott," Prussia whispered, his face suddenly alight with a terrible glee. "I can't believe this!" He began to scoop up snow excitedly.

Something about his manner made Fritz nervous. He glanced over the hedge and felt his stomach knot. "Don't you dare," he said, punctuating his words with a chilling glare.

His words just seemed to encourage Gilbert. "You didn't stop me the last two times," he said lightly. He had a huge snowball in his hands that was bigger than the previous two.

"He is a guest here, and guests are not to be subjected to this kind of treatment." He knew his words would have been a valid argument against someone more polite than Prussia, but he could tell just by looking at his face what his answer was going to be.

"But I don't like him," Gilbert replied, his words almost a whine.

"That doesn't matter! It's incredibly immature for you t—Gilbert!" He yelled and went to grab Gilbert's hand as he cocked his arm back to throw. Suddenly a hand caught his own wrist and somehow Gilbert managed to throw his snowball while the two of them were fighting. The movement caused them to lose balance and they both fell.

Gilbert ended up on top (which Fredrick thought was incredibly unfair) and smacked a hand over his King's mouth. "Stop yelling, he'll hear us!" He whispered, and a sudden flurry of French made them both pause.  Both of their eyes widened as the yelling went on. "I didn't know Voltaire had such a vocabulary." Gilbert commented, grinning like a child catching their parent in mid-curse. He looked down as Fritz wriggled under his grip. "Yes?"

Without any warning the monarch grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it down his captor's shirt. Gilbert leaped back as if he had just been shocked and let out another scream (it was still a manly scream, he insisted). He fell back, scrabbling at his shirt frantically. Frederick sat up and watched him. "I cannot believe you," he said, scooping up a messy handful of snow and throwing it. It hit Gilbert directly in the face. The cursing and sputtering made him smile despite his next words. "Throwing snow at a guest of my palace, you are such a child sometimes!" He punctuated his words with more snow until his dear country was half buried in it.

Prussia was too busy laughing to properly defend himself. "You're—doing—it—too—" He managed to gasp out between breaths of laughter. All of a sudden Gilbird started chirping and flying around their heads. For a second Prussia listened before bolting upright. "Oh damn it!" He yelled, scrambling to his feet and brushing the snow from his clothes. "He's coming here!"

"Who?" Frederick asked, tilting his head to one side.

"Voltaire!" Prussia said, yanking his king to his feet and taking off with him in tow.