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underthewingsofthblackeagle · 1 year

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Foto: Panorama Helsinki / Finland - Cathedral and Place of the Parliament (by tap5a)

“We only do this for Fergus!” is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and my contribution to the Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will probably not be approved… unless he is married and/or in a committed relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this story) @outlanderpromptexchange

Chapter 22: Claire and Jamie go shopping for Christmas

Claire arrived punctually at 10.00 a.m. in front of the building of the new "Berlin Wonder Store", where Jamie was already waiting for her. His expression was full of enthusiasm and Claire wondered what the reason was. After a brief greeting, Jamie opened one of the large doors of the multi-storey building and led her inside.

Berlin in winter * Picture by ThomasWolter from Pixabay

"You'll be thrilled, Claire, just like me! It's on the third floor." Jamie pointed to a set of lift doors and Claire saw that one of the lifts would be arriving on the ground floor shortly. The night before, when they had talked again about doing their Christmas shopping together, Jamie had told her about a discovery he had made recently (however!). "Claire, there's this new shopping centre in Mitte where you can get everything you need for Christmas - in one place! A huge selection and yet totally time-saving!" The words "huge selection", "everything in one place" and "time-saving" had left Claire with a rather queasy feeling. Nevertheless, she had agreed to meet Jamie there and look at they had to offer. A short metallic sound rang out and the lift doors opened. Jamie and Claire let a few people out, then they entered. They were alone and Jamie couldn't contain his excitement. "So I was there earlier and I looked at everything. Fantastic! I particularly liked one of the Christmas trees ..." "You went to look at a Christmas tree? Here, in this shop? They have Christmas trees?" "Yes, of course. Complete Christmas trees!" Claire suspected evil, but before she could ask another question, the sound that announced the opening of the lift doors sounded again. They arrived at their destination. "Just follow me, Claire. I've already spoken to the salesperson in charge. They're even sending a team to set up the tree at our place." Claire followed Jamie and a moment later she saw "it" - a huge fake Christmas tree about 2 metres high - made of green plastic! The "tree" was hung all over with candy-coloured baubles, fat Santas, red-nosed reindeer, brightly shining stars and various other "Christmas" motifs. From top to bottom, a thick golden garland had been laid across all the tiers of the "tree". A chain of lights flashing in all possible colours every second illuminated the - in Claire's eyes - monstrous structure, the top of which was "crowned" by a baroque cherub playing a trumpet. "Ah, Mr Fraser! How nice to see you again!" a salesman standing next to the "tree" greeted Jamie and Claire. Before either of them could say a word back, the long, lean man with the Poirot moustache continued:

"How nice that I can now also meet your fiancée. I am sure you will like this tree, Madame. It is a unique investment that will give you pleasure for many years. You get a complete tree including decoration for only 999.00 euros and that already includes delivery and the build-up by our in-house team. Of course, we can also take your personal wishes into account when it comes to the decoration. We have these beautiful silver unicorns or a selection of colourful biscuit shapes ..." Claire smiled at the man as she let her eyes glide over his red, green and gold Santa disguise, wondering what movie he had stepped out of.

"Jamie? Darling!" Claire's voice snapped Fraser, who could already see the "tree" standing beside the fireplace in the living room, out of his thoughts. "Yes, darling?" "Can we have a word in private, please?!" Claire's tone sounded friendly, but allowed neither objection nor delay. Jamie glanced at the salesman. The latter nodded and assured: "Just take your time ..." But for Claire, no such assurance was needed. She pulled Jamie back by the sleeve of his coat a few feet towards the lift. "James Fraser, what is this nonsense?!" She spoke softly, but her words struck him like fiery arrows. "Why nonsense, Claire. I don't understand ..." "Your son wishes for a traditional German Christmas." "Yes, of course, and here we have a complete ..." "Here we have a ton of green Chinese plastic! I don't think it could get any more unnatural than that. But neither Fergus nor I want a 'Christmas made in China'." "But ..." "But nothing! The fact that something so environmentally harmful is even allowed to be sold here! I can hardly believe it! This should be reported to the consumer advice centre straight away. I don't even want to know how many toxins are in this horrible colossus and whether they would be released into the room air when it stands next to the warm fireplace. That's just, ... that's just disgusting!" Claire had shot all her ammunition. Fraser stood before her like a watered poodle and she almost felt sorry for him again. "I get it," she then said in a more conciliatory tone, "You don't like to shop. You order what you need on the internet or have something delivered. Shopping is a waste of time for you and here you have a 'complete solution'. But Jamie, it doesn't work like that. Not if we want to prepare a really nice feast for Fergus."

"Okay, Claire. I ..." No, 'I understand' he couldn't say, because he didn't understand this, not yet. But he knew she knew about such things and he trusted her. So he took another run at it: "Okay, Claire, I'll cancel the ... plastic tree. But what do we do then?" "Then we go to a shop that sells natural, handmade Christmas tree decorations. I got the address from a former colleague. It's not far from here." Jamie sighed softly. So she had guessed. Why else would she have been so prepared for this purchase? He could have saved himself the embarrassment if he had asked her straight away. For a moment he watched her face in silence and had to smile. Then he turned and went back to the shop assistant. Claire only saw the two men talking to each other and how, after a few sentences from Jamie, the corners of the shop assistant's mouth pointed towards the South Pole. Then the salesman spoke and it seemed to Claire as if he was trying - man to man, as it were - to comfort Jamie. "Women," he seemed to say, "just don't have any interest in efficiency." Claire had to pull herself together or she would have laughed uproariously. Jamie said goodbye to the salesman and returned to Claire. Silently they walked to the lift and silently they rode down to the ground floor. As they stood in front of the entrance again, Jamie found his voice again: "So where are we going now?" "The shop is called 'Alice Bodenser - Natural Decorations for Every Season', it's in Charlottenburg."

Palace Charlottenburg/Berlin * Picture: Miodrag Asenov from Pixabay Twenty minutes later Fraser parked the car on the side of the road just a few metres from said shop. Shortly afterwards, he held the door to Alice Bodenser's shop open for Claire. Moments later they were face to face with the owner. "Good day, ..." The woman, about 40 years old, had faltered. "Excuse me, but don't I know you from somewhere?" Jamie leaned forward and held out his hand to her: "Fraser, James Fraser. CEO of 'Fraser & Son International' and this is my fiancée ..." "Claire, Claire Beauchamp. But just call me Claire." Claire too had now extended her hand to the woman and Alice Bodenser shook them both in turn. "Ah, now I know! I've seen pictures of you in the paper. You are most welcome! What can I do for you?"

"Well," Claire began, "we'd like to put together a Christmas decoration. Our son, that is, my fiancé's foster son ..." "Our son, Claire, we love him like our own son," Jamie cut in briefly, putting his right arm gently around her shoulders. "Yes, of course," Claire looked up at him and continued, "Our son Fergus wants a traditional Christmas with everything around it and we want to grant him that wish. He's six years old and it's important to us that he learns that we need to be prudent with the resources that nature gives us." Alice Bodenser's face began to glow and as she nodded spiritedly, the blonde short curls that surrounded her face began to move as if to indicate their full agreement with Claire's words as well. "I see," she said, "no plastic, just natural raw materials." "Exactly! Can you show us what decorations you have in stock?"

"Of course, please follow me into the showroom!" Alice Bodenser pointed straight ahead and the two women started moving. Fraser followed them. "Then I take it that you will also be putting up a natural tree?" "Yes," Claire replied, "we will buy a tree with a root ball and then plant it in the garden in the spring." Jamie bristled. He had just heard that for the first time. He was glad the two women couldn't see his puzzled expression. So, so, they would buy a tree with a root ball ... interesting. "How big should or will the tree be?" inquired Mrs Bodenser. "About 2 metres. The room is a good 2.50 metres high." "Ah, I see, yes, that gives me an idea of how many decorative elements you can choose from." They entered the showroom where Alice presented them with a large selection of Christmas tree decorations. Claire first selected twelve handmade straw stars in four different finishes. "We don't want tinsel, of course, if only because of the environmental impact ..." "Of course," Alice replied, adding, "These red bows, also handmade, and these crystal icicles might be a better substitute." "Oh! I like those very much." "The icicles are from Swarowski ..."

Glass Christmas Star * Picture by Julia from Pixabay "Yes, you can see that right away ..." Claire bent over the small box Alice had opened and placed in front of her.

"They are a bit more massive than that ice rain that you can also buy as a substitute for tinsel nowadays ..." "I know, Alice, but this 'ice rain' is made of acrylic and ... we don't want anything unnatural on our tree. Don't we Jamie?" Fraser, who had been looking with interest at the price stickers on each of the decorations, inwardly startled: "No, of course not, darling." Then he heard Claire ask: "Do you have natural pine cones too?" "Yes, we have four different kinds there too..." replied Alice as she reached for a large box that was on a shelf behind her. So it went on merrily for another two hours. Claire examined hand-blown glass baubles from the Erzgebirge, featuring Christmas scenes, small silver-coloured candle holders for - of course - real wax candles, red velvet hangers on which to hang home-baked biscuits, crystal stars and the current year's collection of Swarovski Christmas tree baubles, small tree pendants carved from walnut shells and - or so it seemed to Fraser - a thousand other items. Just when he thought they would soon be finished now, Claire held out a crystal Christmas tree topper to him: "Jamie, darling, what do you think of it? Isn't it lovely?" "Yes, very ... beautiful." "Good, we'll take it!" Alice Bodenser's face beamed as she added the Christmas tree topper to Claire's list of desired items. "Now all we need is a hand-carved nativity scene, but without any kitsch, please, a nutcracker, a brass bell, oh yes, and a bridge of lights."

Christmas Tree Decoration * Picture by juteland from Pixabay

From the exhibits shown by Alice Bodenser, they jointly selected a simply crafted nativity scene made of wood with seven hand-coloured figures. When it came to the nutcracker and Claire showed Jamie one with a red robe, he objected for the first time. A nutcracker would be okay, but please not with a red uniform. Claire wondered, but said nothing. They agreed on a nutcracker with a green uniform and also bought a light bridge for the window in the dining room, a table pyramid and some incense burners and incense houses. The incense cones, Alice Bodenser explained, were high-quality goods made exclusively from natural ingredients, i.e. natural oils, herbs, flowers and resins. Claire nodded in agreement. When they came to the choice of handbell, their choice was made quickly and together. They decided on a small, plain but unmistakable brass bell with a bright tone.

Mrs Bodenser noted each of the items on her list. Then she asked about the choice of candles to decorate the tree. Claire ordered 250 candles made of natural honey wax and also chose some large candles for the stand lanterns in the living room. Fraser thought that they must finally have everything, but then the women started talking about hand-painted china balls, Christmas biscuit jars and decanters for Christmas liqueurs ... and ... he surrendered to his fate. But to his great surprise, only a few minutes later the women were really finished. Claire and Alice exchanged phone numbers, within moments had arranged appointments and ... they were done. Alice was beaming all over and Fraser couldn't help thinking that this woman had probably made the best deal of this year in the last two hours. Claire was also beaming and this reconciled him with the fact that he actually hated such 'shopping trips'. They said goodbye to the shopkeeper and slowly strolled along the snow-covered pavement to the car. Jamie held the door open for Claire. But as she was about to get in, she slipped slightly. He caught her and managed to prevent her from hitting the top of the car. With some force she came to a stop, leaning against his chest. But when she then looked up into his face, she was a little startled. "Are you angry with me?" "Why should I be angry with you?" returned the astonished one. "Well, I spent more than maybe twice as much in money as your 'all-round tree' would have cost ..." Jamie gave a short, hearty laugh. "But with what you've chosen, it's going to be a much nicer party for Fergus ... I don't know exactly what you need it all for yet, or what it's going to look like in the end, but I trust you." He gave her a brief but warm hug. When he let go of her and she looked up at him again, his serious look astonished her. "What is it?" "Someone is watching us." "Alice? Is she standing behind the window dressing?" "Yes, maybe we should give her ..." "...a little performance?" "Would that be all right with you?" Before he knew it, Clair wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled his head down to her and kissed him. When they broke away from each other again, Jamie couldn't help grinning. "We're doing a lot for Fergus today though, aren't we?" Claire only replied with a smile. After a few moments she asked: "Well, did she take a picture?" "In all probability ..." "So, will it be all over Facebook, Twitter and the papers tomorrow?" "No, Claire. I don't think so. Alice Bodenser just did one of the best deals of this month, if not the whole year. She won't want to spoil that for herself. Maybe she's hoping for more business. I don't think she's going to want to spoil it by acting unseriously. She will show the photo to her mother, grandma, aunt or best friend. But we certainly won't see it in the media." Claire let out a soft sigh. Then a loud grumble coming from the direction of Jamie's stomach startled her.

Lunch Buffet * Picture by AndreaEgger from Pixabay

"Well, Claire, you have two choices now. Either we go and get something to eat somewhere around here now or I'm going to have to take a bite out of you ..." "Well, I would like Italian or Asian. Beauchamp is certainly a bit too tough." They laughed again. "I'll pass on that. Fergus would never forgive me if you came home with only one ear or no nose." Once more they laughed. Fifteen minutes later they were sitting in a small Italian restaurant. After they had ordered, it suddenly flashed through Jamie's mind. "My goodness! I forgot to tell Mrs Curtius." He frantically reached for his smartphone. Claire smiled and placed her hand reassuringly on his. "Don't panic. I'd already warned Mrs Curtius that we probably wouldn't be home until tea time. She's prepared lunch for Fergus." Jamie exhaled in relief. Then he shook his head. "What?" "I'm just amazed that you're always so on top of things." "That, Mr Fraser, is my job," she replied, then removed her arms from the table to make room for the plate the waiter brought at that very moment. "But now, boss, I'm on lunch break."

After lunch, they drove to a fir farm near Potsdam, whose address Claire had researched in the days before. You could cut fir trees yourself and take them home. They saw some families whose fathers had saws or axes with them. On one of the paths, a family came towards them. Obviously the father, who was carrying his axe, had just cut the Christmas tree himself, which his four children were now proudly carrying to the exit. Jamie and Claire looked at the many varieties of fir, but finally decided on a Nordmann fir. Fraser arranged with the salesman for the 2.05 metre tall fir, complete with bale and bucket, to be delivered two days before Christmas Eve. When they arrived home about forty minutes later, quite chilled, a warm dining room, a set table, a steaming teapot and an extraordinarily curious Fergus were already waiting for them. Clearly, the toddler had expected Jamie and Claire to return home with large shopping bags and the opportunity to have a first look at his Christmas presents. He was all the more disappointed to see that neither Jamie nor Claire had any packages or bags with them. "Haven't you bought anything for Christmas?" he asked in wonder as they sat together at the table and Claire poured everyone tea. "Oh yes we did!" "And where are the things?"

Claire sat down beside him and lifted him onto her lap. "Fergus, darling, you wanted to have a proper German Christmas, didn't you?" "Yes." "Well, now you'll have to wait until Christmas Eve. Because presents don't come until late on Christmas Eve, according to German tradition." Fergus sighed. "Would you like to have a Spanish Christmas, perhaps?" asked Claire with a sly smile. "Why? When do they give presents in Spain?" the boy asked excitedly. "On 6 January," Claire replied matter-of-factly. Jamie had to turn aside and cover his mouth when he saw the shock on Fergus' face. "No," he heard the child say then, "I think we'd better leave it like this." "I think so too," Claire replied, "it's only a few more days and until then Mrs Curtius' good chocolate cake will help you wait."

#Outlander #Outlander Fan Fiction #Modern AU #Fergus Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Christmas #Potsdam #Berlin #Germany #The Frasers in Prussia

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roccinan · 9 months

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What if Andres had a daughter instead of a son?

Hmm, I don't think there will be too much of a difference- as in, he'd still be a shit father. But there's a higher chance she'd be more like him both physically and characteristically- a literal berlinita (so Tokyo lmao).

He might not bother "investing" in putting her through MIT because he thinks girls should be raised as pampered uwu things only meant to look pretty. So there's a chance this turns him into a deadbeat father who is never there, but still gives the daughter whatever she wants whenever she wants without rhyme or reason so he ends up contributing to creating a super spoiled vapid young woman who's berlin + tokyo, but even worse to be around for everyone else. Sounds superior to Rafael already!

She could also turn out to just be a female Rafael too (so Keila?), but either way, she'd want a hand in thievery too and I can see her stealing the gold just to spite Andres/for fun/to prove herself worthy of "succeeding" the family legacy.

#anonymous

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fuzzyperfectionengineer · 5 months

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skendong · 7 months

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Africanistan: The Ultimate War on Terror

Africanistan

“We love our country. But to love it you have to be alive. A corpse has no homeland.”

On an enslaved mass Europe drew cold lines. Millions tangled in exploitation’s cruel dance. The hope for a continent in Barbarian hands, A united, stable Alkebulan a utopian dream.

The General Act of Berlin announced in 1885, Only Ethiopia and Liberia would be spared. Foreign soldiers descend on coastal shores, The latest weaponry blots out Africa’s light.

If trading in its people weren’t brutal enough, Now minerals overflowed in Europe’s dockyards. The conniving aggressors greedy for more, Almost wipe out each other in two world wars.

Post-1945 nations clamor for independence, Communists subverting old colonial rules. America and the Soviets in devilish mode, Instilling their doctrines lit a hellish fuse.

Carnage in Africa, the frontiers unclear, Instability, ethnic conflict and terror ushered in. Popular movements had freedom in sight, Extinguished by a cold war decadence.

The Berlin Wall tumbled and a flicker of hope, Now Africa is courted like a beautiful bride. China’s approach is different from the west Understanding Africa’s worth, they invest.

Excess supply meets unlimited demand, Building roads, schools, bridges and ports. Russia still supply 50% of its arms: Africa seeking fresh prospects anew.

Twelve years ago, Clinton’s emails revealed, Whispers behind closed doors unveiled. Muammar Gaddafi’s vast hidden wealth, Treasure trove of aurum and silver’s stealth.

Nearly one hundred and fifty tons of gold, Knowledge of this secret stash WikiLeaks told. A plan was conceived in the Colonel’s heart, A pan-African currency, a project to impart.

Franco British intrigue craft a motive strong: Oil, boosted influence and reputations to uphold. In Tripoli the embattled streets run red, No-fly-zone, armed clashes and countless dead.

Islamists and Tuareg separatists in Mali, An excess of arms has primed the north grizzly. Thousands have perished, a million displaced, In an endless conflict Mali’s fate defaced.

4,000 of Timbuktu’s manuscripts plundered, Ansar Dyne’s destruction leaves culture sundered. Pick-axed and hammered saintly shrines and tombs, Protecting faith’s purity, the extremists fumed.

Burkina Faso ravaged by relentless perdition. Executions, looting and arson the story. Civilians in the crossfire recruited for militia: Volontaires pour la défense de la patrie.

A coup thwarts another coup’s dark intent, President Captain Traoré standing firm. Jihadist activity distresses the land, Neighbouring countries offer a united hand.

As in Niger, skating on alert’s icy brink, Deposed President Bazoum a bargaining chip. Charged with treason, he’s already condemned, ECOWAS threaten war but their plan is insane.

Twenty-nine dead soldiers in the south ignite, A counter-offensive killing terrorists overnight. Niger taking measures to neutralize the threat, France’s withdrawal cast conspiracies of doubt.

Boko Haram and Jama’at Ahl al-Sunna, Spread fiery rhetoric stoking angst in Nigeria. In the troubled north their dominant sphere, 3.6 million have been displaced.

In Zamfara state the usual tale of woe, Gunmen agitate and lawlessness flows. Many lives lost; sixty villagers snatched, And students wheeled off in pick-up trucks.

In Cameroon, lingering tensions of old, The struggle for language, a tale unfolds, Torturing, killings and arson explodes, Amnesty International raises its voice.

Rebel groups rise, in the bushes they hide, A decade of turmoil, divisions collide. Factories halt and roads broken wide, This anglophone crisis the violence divides.

In Central Africa, where hunger takes toll, Half the population in an arduous hole. To be born and survive is a fragile goal, 8% don’t see their first year of life.

Wagner’s entry and the Rwandans fight, Purged Séléka rebels from the country’s towns. The first in a decade, a calm before a storm, In a region still marred by conflict’s blight.

Congo-Kinshasa remains insecure, Six million displaced as suffering obscured. UN’s future shaky, talks aim to repair, Gender violence haunts, survivors in despair.

Poison of greed smeared diamonds with blood, Minerals fueling war, displacement and hunger. Political solutions urged as elections draw near, UN peacekeepers targeted; challenges severe.

Chad, with oil wealth, yet so impoverished, Bearing the weight of war-torn refugees. 300,000 and counting fled from Sudan, A fragile security, a nation in unease.

Under guise of wiping people’s tears away, The UAE covertly aids with brazen lies. In a remote town of Chad an operation thrives, Weapons and drones for the RSF side.

Hemedti and Burhan, once brothers share, A conflict spurring chaos in Khartoum and Darfur. Bullets, rockets, and the fighter jet’s snare, The devil on horseback returned with flair.

Sudanese Armed Force’s strafing strews panic; Home invasions, bombed hospitals, people can’t go out. The pillaging and the killing systematic – As night fell, death lingers, ready to pounce.

In Ethiopia it seems the madness rages on, Sexual violence and other crimes scarring the soul. Terror in Tigray and now fighting in Amhara, A nation’s recurring agony takes a heavy toll.

Government battle with their former kin, Allied forces turned foes in a war so grim. Abiy Ahmed planned to unite within, But too many militias disagree with him.

Somalian troops have engaged for years, Hide and seek with Al Shabab, left a brutal scar. Thousands have fallen but does anybody hear? Screams and blood sacrifice an endless affair.

A truck bomb in Beledweyne’s town square, Killed 21 innocents sprouting anguish over here. Buildings razed, plenty wounded on the ground, Never-ending turmoil like Black Hawk Down.

Mozambique is a land in flux and dread, An insurgency’s deadly shadow looms overhead. A million displaced in Cabo Delgado’s fright, Another nation struggling as violence excites.

Loved ones beheaded, homes razed to ashes, Men and boys compelled to join armed groups. Livelihoods vanished, education’s lost ground, Healthcare and food scarcity in critical loop.

South Africa’s parliament hall burned down, Tensions with the U.S. begin to install. Naval drills in the Indian Ocean enthralled, South Africa, Russia and China allied.

ANC has past links with these erstwhile friends, USA frustrated and controversy found. Accused of arms smuggling aim to undermine, South Africa’s neutrality in the war in Ukraine.

Changing alliances and strategic coalitions, South Africa chooses in this dangerous game. Africanistan unfurling amid proxy’s friction, Ever-evolving struggles in a global campaign.

Djibouti is a gathering of strange hosts. Military bases for France, Spain and Germany, The United States, United Kingdom, and Italy, Japan and Saudi Arabia: if there’s revolts?

Russia and India seek a presence to be, Thugs guard the continent by land and by sea. On African territory set long-term plans, Colonial frontiers drifting in the sands.

African nations in the Arab League’s clique? Non-Arab lands in a union they sit. A paradoxical blend of conquest and culture, Arabs enslaved blacks so lest not forget that.

What does America bring, a weak dollar’s sway? Backed by the military they print dollars every day. What does Britain bring but a duplicitous role? Preaching democracy, education, and birth control.

The sordid past of Françafrique’s grim view, A fierce dawn breaks and the policy renews. Africa’s roar is a force to be reckoned, Winds of change, chains strained and broken.

For too long held in their pernicious stay, Imposing notions that affect us today. White supremacy’s harshness, Arabian superiority, The darker skinned hue lambasted with no pity.

A narrative marred by such horrible stains, Yet within our hearts, resilience remains. Awakening from this long and troubled sleep, No longer inferior, our dignity we’ll keep.

For we are equal, capable with open eyes, Our brilliance shining as our spirits arise. From depths of subjugation, we’ll break free, A proud united people and strong, we’ll be.

Youth and time is aligned on terrain, The West grows decrepit and demographics wane. Empires decline as the past conveys. Like a sphinx we’ll rise even a millennium away.

So, bear the turmoil Alkebulan my land, Relay this on the hills and shout up to the sky – Proclaim to those seeking to seize our hand, AFRICA RISING, we shall cry again.

https://skendongpoetry.com/archives/11314

#africa #poetryiwrite #current events #literature

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chaoticgremlinwholikescheese · 11 months

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So, I’m working on a queer ww2-era book. Here are the main characters!!

Theo (Theodore):

A jewish nerd. Pre-enlistment, he worked at a jewish deli in San Francisco. His parents fled Germany before the Nazi party arose to escape the pogroms/antisemitism. Theo is a medic with the brigade, but since he speaks fluent German (and yiddish), he is the defacto translator as well.

Before he enlisted, Theo and his family were saving money to bring family members over from Germany to save them from the Nazis. Unfortunately, they only made enough to bring over one, Theo’s younger cousin. Theo writes to his cousin, and he’s trying to see if his cousin’s family is still alive.

Theo reads a lot of comics. He has a crush on Steve Rogers/Captain America (he doesn’t realize it’s partially because he has a crush on Nick, who looks somewhat like Cap). He carries books around with him. He sometimes reads aloud from them. He trades books with people they meet, so that he always has new things to read.

He also sings. He grew up with stories from his mother about the Berlin opera, and he dreamed about being an opera singer. That dream faded, but his love for singing never did. He sings while he works.

He’s very open about being jewish. Though many jewish soldiers choose to put P for protestant on their dog tags, Theo refuses to do that. He will not hide his jewishness. Because of this, he is bullied by other soldiers in the ranks. He rarely picks fights or stands up for himself, choosing instead to ignore them. Nick often steps in and beats up the guys bullying Theo (he’s protective).

Theo is a sweetheart. Just a little guy (quite literally, he’s relatively short). He has a heart of gold, and Nick falls in love with him because of that.

Nick (Nicholas):

Nick appears like your typical jock. He’s a muscular, popular, blond blue-eyed guy. But he’s one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet. He’s a genuinely good person. He has this charisma that makes everyone love him.

He’s a proud Brooklyner from New York. He didn’t grow up wealthy. His dad was never in the picture, so his mom was working whatever jobs she could to keep a roof over their heads. While his mom was working, he hung out with an old woman who lived upstairs. She worked as a prostitute, but is now retired. Because of this Nick doesn’t allow any of the soldiers to pull shit with sex workers on/off base.

Nick has dyslexia (undiagnosed, because it’s the 40s), and everyone assumes he’s stupid. But he’s actually very intelligent when it comes to certain topics. He has trouble reading, so he loves to listen to Theo read aloud (he just loves Theo in general).

At home, his mom is working to get him married. She has an engagement set up with his female best friend from home. However, Nick’s bff is a lesbian, and in a happy relationship with her girlfriend. They have an agreement to be each other’s beards so neither gets in trouble/discovered. Nick writes to his ‘girlfriend’, and she writes to him. She knows he’s in love with Theo and is desperately trying to get him to realize it. When they get together, she’s totally invested in their relationship.

Nick falls in love with Theo, but he’s kind of a himbo, so it takes him a while to realize it. Theo is also kind of stupid when it comes to feelings, so the two of them take a while to figure it out. But the two of them are meant to be.

#harvey's oc stuff

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sicherewertanlage · 1 year

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Gold kaufen Frankfurt – Gold kaufen als Wertanlage

Das Gold ist seit Jahrhunderten der Wertspeicher für die Menschen. Unbeeinflusst von allen Debatten, wenn es um Währungssysteme, Digitalwährung und Investment geht. Das Gold hat seine „Save-Haven“-Funktion behalten und ausgebaut. In Zeiten der Digitalisierung setzen die Zentralbanken spätestens seit der Finanzkriese auf Gold zur Wertabsicherung. Eine Entwicklung der Goldstudie zeigt die Reisebank und Research Center for Financial Services der Steinbeis Hochschule Berlin, dass das Vertrauen ins beliebte Edelmetall nochmal gewachsten ist. Bei einem Goldkauf ist den privaten Anlegern, vor allem die Reputation des Anbieters von großer Bedeutung. Bei KS Edelmetalle GmbH in Bad Homburg bei Frankfurt am Main kaufen Sie ihre Goldbarren, Goldmünzen oder Silbermünzen mit Sicherheit. Gold kaufen - Gründe für eine sichere und sinnvolle Geldanlage:

internationale Krisenwährung

kann nicht künstlich hergestellt werden

als Zahlungsmittel weltweit anerkannt

individuelle Nachfrage

steuerliche Vorteile

hat einen Sachwert

Gold kaufen – Goldmünzen oder Goldbarren

Eine Grundregel beim Goldkauf bzw. Gold kaufen zählt für die meisten Käufer der Werterhalt. Sie wollen beim Gold kaufen als Kapitalanlage ihr Vermögen nicht zwangsläufig vermehren, sondern vor Wertverlust schützen. Die Goldkäufer setzen darauf, dass andere Werte einen Totalverlust erleiden - Gold jedoch nicht. Auf welche Form setzen sie dabei: Goldbarren oder Goldmünzen? Egal ob Sie das goldene Metall in Barrenform oder geprägte Bullin Coins erwerben, das Feingewicht sollte im Fokus stehen. Gold wird in Gramm und Unzen erworben und gehandelt. Die Münzen gibt es im wesentlichen als Unzen, deren Teile (halbe, viertel, zehntel, zwanzigstel). Die Barren werden meist in klassischen Grammgrößen gehandelt (1, 5, 10, 20, 50, 100, 250, 500, 1000) In diesen Städten sind Sie, wenn es um Ihren Goldkauf und Silberkauf bei KS Edelmetalle GmbH geht, gut beraten:

Frankfurt am Main

Offenbach am Main

Königstein

Kronberg

Hofheim

Bad Homburg

Friedberg

Wiesbaden

Bad Nauheim

Gold kaufen – richtige Stückelung für ihren Geldbeutel

Es gibt für jeden Geldbeutel die richtige Stückelung bei einem Goldkauf. Wenn Sie eine möglichst hohe Wertdichte mit geringem Aufschlag suchen, so viel ausgeben können – sollten Sie in den Kilobarren investieren. Einen Aufwand den Barren zu gießen und prägen, ist beim 1 Gramm-Barren nahezu gleich wie beim Kilobarren. Beim Gold gilt: Je kleiner das Goldstück, desto stärker fallen die Kosten angesichts des geringen Wertes ins Gewicht. Beliebte Goldprodukte fürs Investment:

Der Platzhirsch unter den Bullions

Krisenwährungs-Tafeln (verkleinerte Schokotafel)

Königin meets Ahorn

#goldkaufen #silberkaufen #frankfurt #goldbarren #silberbarren #silbermünzen #goldmünzen #anonymkaufen #tafelgeschäft #bargeld #offenbach #kronberg #hofheim #badnauheim #köngstein #friedberg #wiesbaden #ks edelmetalle gmbh

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goldinvest-edelmetalle · 24 days

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Eine effektive Methode zur Erkennung von gefälschtem Gold: Gold Invest Edelmetalle

Angesichts der wachsenden Besorgnis über gefälschte Edelmetalle auf dem Markt wird Ihnen dieser Artikel dabei helfen, die Echtheit Ihrer Goldanlagen sicherzustellen.

Warum singt echtes Gold?

Gold, ein dichtes und formbares Metall, besitzt einzigartige akustische Eigenschaften, die zur Echtheitsprüfung genutzt werden können. Wenn man es sanft anschlägt, erzeugt echtes Gold einen klaren, resonanten Klang — eine Eigenschaft, die gefälschte Metalle, die oft aus unedlen Metallen oder anderen Legierungen bestehen, nicht reproduzieren können. Dieser charakteristische „singende“ Klang ist auf die inhärenten physikalischen Eigenschaften von Gold zurückzuführen und macht es zu einem effektiven, nichtinvasiven Test für schnelle vorläufige Beurteilungen.

Den Gesangstest verstehen

Um den Gesangstest durchzuführen, befolgen Sie diese einfachen Schritte:

Sanft zuschlagen : Schlagen Sie mit einem nicht beschädigenden Gegenstand sanft auf den Goldgegenstand.

Hören Sie genau hin : Achten Sie genau auf den Ton, der erzeugt wird. Echtes Gold hat einen langanhaltenden, hohen Klang.

Vergleichen Sie mit bekannten Proben : Vergleichen Sie den Klang, wenn möglich, mit dem eines geprüften Goldstücks, um die subtilen Unterschiede zu erkennen.

Obwohl der Gesangstest eine nützliche vorläufige Methode darstellt, empfiehlt es sich, ihn zur umfassenden Absicherung durch andere Verifizierungstechniken zu ergänzen.

Zusätzliche Überprüfungsmethoden

Neben der Singprüfung empfiehlt Gold Invest Edelmetalle den Einsatz folgender Methoden zur Echtheitsbestimmung von Gold:

Magnettest : Gold ist nicht magnetisch. Wenn der Gegenstand von einem Magneten angezogen wird, handelt es sich wahrscheinlich um eine Fälschung.

Dichtetest : Die hohe Dichte von Gold (19,3 g/cm³) kann mithilfe von Wasserverdrängungsmethoden überprüft werden.

Säuretest : Mit speziellen Säuren lässt sich die Karatzahl von Gold durch Beobachtung der Reaktion bestimmen.

Professionelle Bewertung: Um absolute Sicherheit zu erreichen, lassen Sie den Goldgegenstand von einem zertifizierten Fachmann bewerten oder nutzen Sie eine Röntgenfluoreszenzanalyse (XRF).

Bedeutung der Authentizität

Die Echtheit von Gold sicherzustellen, ist für Anleger und Sammler gleichermaßen von entscheidender Bedeutung. Gefälschtes Gold führt nicht nur zu finanziellen Verlusten, sondern untergräbt auch die Integrität des Edelmetallmarktes. Gold Invest Edelmetalle hat es sich zur Aufgabe gemacht, das Wissen und die Werkzeuge bereitzustellen, die zum Schutz von Investitionen erforderlich sind.

Über Gold Invest Edelmetalle

Gold Invest Edelmetalle ist ein führender Anbieter von Edelmetallen in Österreich. Mit langjähriger Branchenerfahrung bietet das Unternehmen hochwertige Gold- und Silberprodukte sowie kompetente Beratung und Dienstleistungen an. Gold Invest Edelmetalle möchte seinen Kunden die Informationen und Tools zur Verfügung stellen, die sie benötigen, um fundierte Entscheidungen bei ihren Edelmetallinvestitionen zu treffen .

Auf einem Markt, auf dem das Risiko von gefälschtem Gold allgegenwärtig ist, bietet der Singtest eine einfache und dennoch effektive Möglichkeit, echtes Gold von Fälschung zu unterscheiden. Gold Invest Edelmetalle empfiehlt allen Anlegern und Sammlern, diese Methode neben anderen Überprüfungstechniken zu verwenden, um ihre Investitionen zu schützen und die Reinheit ihrer Edelmetalle sicherzustellen.

Weitere Informationen zum Erkennen von Falschgold und zum Singtest erhalten Sie bei Gold Invest Edelmetalle .

#gold invest company berlin #gold online kaufen #edelmetalle kaufen #gold invest berlin #gold invest edelmetalle #edelmetalle verkaufen #kaufen gold #kaufen silber #verkaufen gold #verkaufen silber

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merriammusicinc · 2 years

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W Hoffmann P162 Professional Series | Baby Grand Piano Review

youtube

C Bechstein’s W Hoffmann brand offers an undeniably intriguing set of pianos. Consisting of three different lines of different quality, the W. Hoffmann is a fully European handmade alternative to a German piano for a fraction of the price.

In this article and review video we’ll be looking at the entry point to the Professional line - the top W. Hoffmann line - with the W Hoffmann P162 baby grand. We’ll do a rundown of the piano action and piano sound, as well as some other cool design/aesthetic tidbits.

W Hoffmann P162 - Playing Experience

Of all the instruments in the showroom right now, it's worth mentioning that this one has really managed to grab our company President and resident piano reviewer Stu’s attention and inspire some very creative moments.

Anyone who spends a lot of time around pianos will know what Stu’s referring to here - “it's very unusual for me to sit down in front of a piano that is less than $90,000 or $100,000 and have it genuinely take my breath away and cause me to play differently than I would normally. “ Stu opined.

He continued, “To me, that's one of the most interesting effects that a great instrument can have.”

Read on for our in-depth review of the W. Hoffmann P162 baby grand piano!

Baby Grand Piano Background

The C. Bechstein Europe’s P162, produced under the W. Hoffmann Professional brand is a baby grand with a massive musical range, a clear precise tone, fluid, and expertly-prepared action, and an attractive and unique silver color scheme.

Professional Series vs Tradition Series

The W. Hoffmann Professional series along with their Tradition series are both highly regarded all-European grand pianos that offer a high-value alternative to more expensive German pianos. The Professional series differs from the Tradition series in subtle ways, but nonetheless important to mention.

Both pianos use a different hammer and voicing style, different plates (and therefore also slightly different scale designs) as well as different bridge designs. The result is that the Professional series produces a more bell-like attack with long-sustaining trebles, as opposed to the darker and warmer tone of the Tradition series.

Made in the Czech Republic

The W Hoffmann P162 is made in Hradec Králové, Czech Republic at the old Bohemia piano factory which Bechstein acquired in 2006. Bechstein made a considerable investment in modernizing the factory with new CNC machinery and modern technology while maintaining much of the experienced workforce.

We generally don't spend too much time discussing specific piano factories in our reviews, but in this case, we're behooved to highlight Bechstein's Czech factory. This is a factory that's currently at its maximum possible output with the staff working day and night to try and fill back-orders.

Between the workforce, equipment and the substantial investment Bechstein has made, the result has been a stable of incredible instruments that more than compete against high-end Japanese options from Kawai and Yamaha. The Professional Series W. Hoffmann pianos are right at the top of the heap when it comes to what that Czech factory is putting out for Bechstein.

Alternative to the C. Bechstein Academy A160

The P162 is essentially a sister product to the Bechstein Academy A160. If you are ever fortunate enough to be able to sit down in front of an A160 and a P162 side by side, you're going to quickly notice that the scales designs and cabinets are virtually the same.

It's quite clear that Bechstein have exported some of the designs and a lot of the expertise out of their Berlin factory down the road two hours to the Czech factory and are producing a very similar product to the Academy, for about 20-30% less money.

Let’s jump over to some specifics regarding the action.

Baby Grand Piano Action Bechstein’s Silver Line Action

The P162 uses Bechstein’s “Silver Line” action. This action features essentially the same geometry as the top-end “Gold Line” Action, but with lesser quality materials on certain parts, while also receiving less voicing and regulation.

As is the case with virtually all Bechstein pianos, this action is very fast, and nicely straddles the fine line between power and dynamic control.

The keybed is not as deep as a Japanese action, so it gives the player the perception of being a little bit lighter. When weighing the action it turns out it’s pretty much down the middle, but that shallower keybed definitely makes it feel lighter. We love this action and think it will be more than satisfying even for high-level playing.

Baby Grand Piano Sound Nuanced Timbre

The sound of the P162 could aptly be described as both nuanced and delicate. The balance across the entire range is striking, and probably unmatched in this price and size range.

They have definitely achieved a real bell-like tone here, with characteristic mid and upper-mid-range Bechstein bloom.

The treble maintains the sense of delicacy while also boasting a remarkable sustain, and the ever-maligned ‘break’ area is very well executed.

Overall, the tone is more complex than the Tradition series, while also being brighter and clearer.

Design Features & Cabinet

The bridge on the P162 has some interesting contouring, which is accented with black paint and impossible to miss. It also has the duplex scale, capped maple bridges, beech/maple rims, solid Austrian white spruce soundboard, and a distinctive silver plate and nickel accents. The instrument is ONLY available in Ebony Polish and silver tones, it can’t be ordered in brass or in any other wood finish.

Conclusions

The W. Hoffmann Professional Series is one of the best-kept secrets of the piano world. In an industry that seems positioned between enormously expensive high-quality pianos, and hard-to-research lower-quality pianos from Asia, the Professional series might be entirely unique.

Designed entirely by C. Bechstein’s famous R&D team in Berlin, the Professional series shares many of the same materials and designs as the Bechstein Premium line of the same size. And the pianos are hand-made entirely in Europe. All at a fraction of the price of what you normally pay for European-built and designed pianos.

The post W Hoffmann P162 Professional Series | Baby Grand Piano Review first appeared on Merriam Pianos

2359 Bristol Cir #200, Oakville, ON L6H 6P8

merriammusic.com

(905) 829–2020

#W Hoffmann p162 #W hoffmann #W hoffmann pianos #c bechstein #piano review

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gloim · 2 years

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sumsebien · 2 years

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by design pt.7 // prince friedrich

series masterlist

summary: the ball is coming. friedrich has planned a surprise for you. but there's another one that not even he, the King or the Queen knew of.

word count: 5.9k

warnings: language, occasionally

a/n: I wrote this a while back but never finished it. I'm not sure whether or not i'll continue the series despite having planned all of the remaining chapters. But I know there are those that are really invested in this story so I just thought it'd be nice to wrap this one up before I decide anything concrete. As always, thanks a lot for reading and supporting this series!

...

When Friedrich swung the doors to his chambers open this morning, all of his staff were outside the door, expecting their Prince to still be fast asleep. They blinked at him for a moment before remembering to bow. Must have been quite the shock for his staff to forget their etiquettes. It was usually Friedrich who did.

But he didn’t blame them. He hadn’t woken up this early on his own since he was twelve, before his obsession with watching the sun rise while the city slept ended. His own circadian rhythm returned to that of an average person with classes he did not wish to attend and duties he would rather overlook.

There were exceptions from time to time like Christmas mornings and trips to the English countryside with his friends. Today, though, the reason behind this abnormality in his schedule was you. He woke early because his mind wouldn’t stop buzzing about you. You and your bright, wide eyes, marveling at every little thing he showed you about his homeland. He was falling in love with Prussia all over again through your eyes. And he was falling in love with you.

Friedrich had been picturing your reaction to Schönhausen Palace, a potential summer home, for you. With his mother and Heinrich’s help, he had been quietly turning the house into an English Eden in the middle of Berlin. You would love it when you saw it, he knew that. Every tweak he made, he did it with you in mind.

Still, he had other estates waiting in the countryside for if you did not like this one. The only qualms he had with them was that they were much too far away from Berlin. He wasn’t sure if he could be apart from you for so long.

Friedrich dismissed his staff for the day, except for Heinrich who could not be dismissed. At least not after he had briefed Friedrich with the daily agendas, like always.

“Today, all the noble families are arriving. But you’ll only have to greet the Prince and Princesses of Bavaria, per her Majesty, the Queen’s request-”

“Does Y/N know that we’re going horse-riding today?” Friedrich interrupted, turning a quarter of the way to make sure his valet heard.

“Yes, sir. She’s aware.”

“And are the Berliners ready?”

“I’ll collect them right after this. There’s no need to worry, sir.”

Friedrich nodded. Everything was going as it should. The pace picked up again. The sound of their steadily fast footsteps filled the halls.

“What about the big surprise? Is it done?”

“Yes, sir. Everything is in order. Like I said, there’s nothing to worry about-”

“What’s there to worry about?”

The third voice coming from the end of the hallway startled both men. Friedrich gave Heinrich a quick look so that they were on the same page about keeping things as tight-lipped as possible. At least until the very last moment. And then he turned to you with the most innocent grin he could muster.

You stood by the stairs, your heels tapping gently against the floors as they approached. Somehow you shone brighter than the gold leafing on the chandeliers, brighter than the sun pouring into the halls itself.

“Oh hello,” he said, holding his hand out behind his back until he felt the cool touch of metal on his skin. Friedrich closed his palm around a skeleton key and slipped it into his pockets. “We were just talking about the Bavarians.”

Your gaze flickered between himself and Heinrich. A crease settled between your eyebrows as you thought over what he said.

“Were you, actually?” you asked. It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. This time, though, the question was directed at the nervous valet who was a horrible liar, couldn’t do it to save his life.

Friedrich was cringing quietly on the sidelines. The only consolation in the case that Heinrich ruined the surprise was that Friedrich would feed him to Ludovica as a sacrifice.

“Yes. It’s the first thing you have on your agendas today. Aside from that, both of you are free to go on your horse ride.”

Smart move. Talking about agendas. Although Friedrich liked to tease his dear friend about his obsession with schedules and timetables, the geekiness worked in their favor this once. You deemed it believable (or boring) enough, took Friedrich’s hand and moved onto a different topic as you descended the stairs together.

The surprise was safely kept in Friedrich’s pockets, for now.

…

“Not the trumpet!” Friedrich groaned.

You stood on your tippy toes to spy on what was happening in the courtyard. You saw guards hauling trunks of luggage into the foyer. The one that was causing Friedrich’s distress looked suspiciously like a musical instrument of some kind, just not a trumpet.

“It’s the French horn, darling,” Frederica corrected. She then directed you a look. “He has had a grudge with Ludovica since they were children.”

You smiled. You remembered all the times he had brought up the Bavarian Princess. She had become quite the legend in your mind. After all, only a handful of people could make Friedrich, the picture of patience and composure, see red.

“You make me sound so unreasonable, Mother. I had and still have fair reasons.”

“She called Berliner a Pfannkuchen, didn’t she?” you asked.

It was hard to keep a straight face and make it sound like a genuine question rather than a jab at his passions for the Berliner. However, you managed to hold back laughter while your mother-in-law, on the other hand, was not shy to let her son know he was being mocked.

“They call it Krapfen in Bavaria,” Friedrich said quietly before continuing a little louder, “But that is not the point! I thought we were a team? Team Berliner, were we not?”

“We are. We are,” you said through fits of giggles. “I just couldn’t pass up on the chance to make fun of you. It’s so easy!”

“Sure,” he grumbled. “My own mother and wife.”

“Don’t be such a sourpuss, darling! We’re getting along! You should be happy!” said Frederica.

The Bavarians’ arrival was announced with horns and the following silence of everyone in the room. You expected a certain rigidness when it came to greeting nobilities but you were pleasantly surprised when the older man, Prince Karl broke into a large smile, opening his arms to greet the Queen.

“How lovely to see you, Frederica!” he spoke, his voice booming against the silence.

Frederica laughed, greeting her guests with a kiss on the cheek each. “Grüß Gott! How are you all? How was your trip?”

“Good, your Majesty,” said the older woman whom you presumed was Princess Marie.

“And look at you! You’ve grown since I last saw you!” said the Prince with a laugh, patting Friedrich on the arm.

“I would hope so, sir,” Friedrich chuckled.

You observed them for a while, watching how Friedrich - your idiot turned into this absolute charmer of a politician. You saw flashes of this side of him when he was with you. But if you had to choose, you’d choose the boy you met on the train that night over anyone else.

Princess Marie leaned in to whisper something to Friedrich, both their gazes on you momentarily. Something told you they were talking about you. What, exactly? You weren’t sure.

Friedrich let out a small laugh and leaned ever-so-slightly forward to say something back, his gloved hand on his chest. You tugged on your own gloves, observing him and wondering if you could ever be so gracious one day.

Then, as if they could feel your stare, all of their eyes fell upon you. Prince Karl was the first to come up and greet you, giving the back of your hand a kiss and a firm shake. “My princess! You are absolutely radiant! How very nice to meet you!”

“It’s my honor, your Highnesses. I do hope your stay with us will be pleasant.”

…

“She’s most wonderful, darling Friedrich. Most people don’t get this lucky with their betrothed.”

Friedrich took a glance at you. He had to concur. There was no doubt in his mind. And he could finally say that now without feeling any tinge of guilt about his own feelings for you.

You were most wonderful not because you were the one he was falling for. You were most wonderful because you were you. The type of person who would laugh harder at his more horrible jokes just so he felt better, who threw themself into a ball to fix what someone else did, who had been so gracious at every turn.

Now that he was brave enough to accept his feelings, he yearned to admit them to you and hear the same echoed back to him. But that was a fantasy. For now, he was happy all the same just to be your friend. That someone who knew exactly what to do to make you smile.

He decided that your happiness was enough.

While he talked, Ludovica slipped right past them, up to you. He forgot she was even here. As she did though, he could feel his soul depart his body. What was she going to do? All the irksome encounters, snarky remarks he had ever had with the Bavarian Princess passed through his mind.

He excused himself, swiftly exiting his conversation with Marie but was not fast enough. Ludovica bore a smile and did the impossible. She threw her arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

He nearly gasped. And he could tell you were shocked too. A hug? A HUG? No one greeted strangers with a hug. Not in Prussia, not in England and certainly not in Bavaria.

Where were her manners? Well, who was he kidding? When did she ever have any? He scoffed to himself.

“Poor you,” she whispered, still loud enough for him to hear though. “I feel like you’ll need that. This one’s a lost cause.”

“I can hear you, Eure Hoheit,” Friedrich cleared his voice, looming on the side.

“Didn’t recall talking to you, ol’ Friedrich,” she glared at him. “As I was saying, I’m Ludovica, but everyone calls me Ludo.”

“Y/N. Lovely to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“If it’s from him then it doesn’t count. Whatever he said about my French horn is a lie and you must know that I’m excellent at it.”

Friedrich stared at you, hoping you would take one look at his face and hear his thoughts. She was far worse than the Smythe-Smith sisters. Do not engage further into this matter.

“You must play for us sometimes,” you said, your hand falling on his arm at the mention of us. Friedrich saw the grin on your face too and knew in that moment, he could forgive you for subjecting you both to bleeding ears.

“Oh, finally! An audience-”

“An audience willing to be tortured by you?” challenged Friedrich.

“An audience with taste,” she quipped. “And you should join me, Friedrich. After all, no one can beat you at flute. Great Uncle Bach would have retired if he ever had the pleasure of hearing you play live.”

Between you inviting Ludovica to play and him being thrown to the lions, Friedrich was rendered rather speechless. He may be able to tolerate singing children's songs and dancing like a fool but not the flutes. Absolutely not.

He wasn’t sure if he could ever erase the memories of that Christmas night years ago.

The big throne room was filled with fir trees that brushed the ceiling and demanding, pushy relatives. He had been working up the courage to get on stage and he would have done so had the French horn enthusiast here didn’t shove him so brutally from the wings. People were laughing and his father stared him down until he shakily held the flute up to his lips.

He was so shaken afterwards that he forgot to sabotage Ludovica’s performance. Something he truly regretted not doing.

“You play the flute? How did I not know that?”

“Because I don’t,” he answered quickly, looking over to Karl, Marie and his mother in hopes their conversation had wrapped up and they were ready to take this pain in the ass away.

“Ludovica!” called Karl. “Let us go, darling.”

How foolish he was to think that was the end of it and she would shake hands with you and bid you a peaceful, free-from-contempt goodbye.

Instead, she grinned and said, “Oh, he does. Trust me, he does.”

…

Friedrich and you decided to have your lunch by a little pond, surrounded by tall beech trees. Every time a breeze blew by, it would start raining gold and bronze leaves everywhere, covering the grounds in a bed of crunchy foliage. The sight you were beholding felt like something straight out of a fairytale book where a Prince and a Princess danced on the fallen leaves in the crisp autumn sun.

In your case, though, your Prince was fishing a leaf out of his champagne. He gave his health a moment's thought and then proceeded to drink from the glass anyways.

“Friedrich, ew.”

He held up the bottle, gesturing to the labels. “I am not going to waste good wine just because a leaf fell in it. This is Dom Perignon, straight from Louis XIV’s wine cellar.”

“Still, a little unhygienic, don’t you think? There are no bathrooms here either.”

“Oh, you would be surprised,” he winked, lying down on the linen blanket, resting his head on top of his bundled coat.

“I pray it’s not what I think it is. That would be wholly inappropriate for a Prince to say to a lady.”

“You’re not just any lady,” he said, retying the strings of his loose shirt. The one he always wore in private. You looked away, just so you wouldn’t get flustered. “You’re my wife. I think I’m allowed to take a few liberties with that.”

My wife.

You were thankful he wasn’t looking at you when he said so. He didn’t have to see the hairs on the nape of your neck rise, the shivers that sent your eyes closed.

It was cold, hard facts. You reminded yourself. You were married, had been so for over a month now.

Besides, it probably meant nothing. Friedrich had been very generous with pet names recently - my heart, my love, my darling, my wife. He started casually peppering them into greetings which then turned into just about every other sentence. You knew it was his way of teasing but sometimes, it felt so real. Like he meant it. And you would forget how to act around him. Like the last month never happened.

Friedrich had his eyes closed, whistling quietly. It gave you some time and him some distraction while you gathered your thoughts.

“Alright then. Since we’re on the topic of being honest…did you actually play the flute?”

Friedrich’s eyes widened at what you asked him. And then, he simply rolled over onto his side away from you, head between his hands. “No!” he said into his palms.

You considered telling him that he bore remarkable resemblance to a child right now but assumed that he was embarrassed enough already. So you just poked at his side. “You can tell me these things. I’m your wife, remember?” You said, waving your hand in front of his face until he gave in and sat up.

“Promise you won’t use this against me someday.”

“I won’t,” you shook your head solemnly. “Promise.”

Finally, he told you about that Christmas night. How he stared at the walls for hours afterwards thinking about what his father said to him.“You can’t even stand in front of me without shaking. How are you going to be the future King of Prussia?” You felt bad for little Friedrich. Because little you knew exactly how that felt. You still did.

“I’m sorry I kept asking.”

Friedrich gave you a small smile, leaning over so that his shoulder bumped into yours. “It’s no big deal. It’s in the past. I don’t let those things bother me anymore.”

“My parents wanted to teach me a lot of things,” you said, nodding towards your horse. “Most of which I never mastered. That’s why I’m in this.” You gestured at your outfit, breeches and a coat, just like Friedrich’s. “I had to refuse all invitations to go horse riding with my suitors in London and make it look like I was playing hard to get.”

He started to bite back a smile as you told your tale but it eventually turned into a full on laugh. You couldn’t help your own smile growing slowly wider.

For the first few seconds, he was truly adorable. But the longer it went on, the more annoying he got. And you tried to make him stop by giving him a push. Friedrich ended up rolling onto the ground, shaking with laughter and completely unbothered by your attempt at violence. If anything, it only amused him more.

Once you had both caught your breath, you laid down next to him, the picnic basket between you two. The foliage overhead shielded you from the direct sunlight but left little pockets of blue sky for you to admire.

“It’s their loss, you know?” he asked, turning to you. “I love your outfit. Besides, it’s much more mobile than the typical gown, is it not?”

“Oh, your Highness, I could ride astride in a gown and win you in a race. Anyday.”

The momentary silence returned, filling the air with potential. He bore his blue eyes into yours, studying your face, searching for something. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, nor if he found it when he smiled and said, “Oh, I don’t doubt that. Not one bit.”

…

The King was tired this morning when he woke up. Throbbing headaches, one on top of the other as he sat up on the edge of his bed. He was in no mood to greet Frederica’s friends. She could do it herself. So he decided to lie down again, delighting in the prospects of being able to go back to bed.

And then, he heard frantic knocks against the door.

“Fuck off!” he called, covering his ears with the pillow. That did nothing. The knocks persisted, shaking the doorframe. Someone was in a mood to get their head chopped off today.

The King ignored the ache in his head as he slowly made his way to the door. If this was what it took to get some silence around here again then he’d gladly do it.

“What?” he snapped, only opening the door a quarter of the way so as to minimize the bright sunlight from worsening his pain.

The guard bowed, apologizing profusely when he realized he had interrupted the King’s sleep.

“You have three seconds before I slam this door in your face.”

“Oh, of course, Eure Majestät. She’s here. The Queen-”

He could almost laugh. “The Queen’s been here for weeks. Has this place gone mad?”

“I meant the Queen Mother, your mother, sir.”

By the time the King managed to get properly dressed and rushed to his mother’s chambers, Bernadine was already there pacing back and forth like a pendulum.

“There you are,” she said with a sigh. “Your mother is here and she’s not happy.”

He nodded, “I know.” And then went straight for the door. Bothering his mother while she was in a foul mood was a stupid decision but letting her think he purposefully ignored her was even worse.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Frederica.

He hadn’t had to see her face for almost a year now, since last Christmas. He had intended to keep it that way before she suddenly arrived in Berlin declaring to coplan the ball. The King reluctantly stopped to face his wife. He thanked the Lord that the devil dog wasn’t here. He was afraid he might have to fling himself out of the windows from all these unpleasant encounters.

“And why? May I humbly ask?” he asked, his eyes following her as she walked right past Bernadine who curtsied, out of etiquette. If it was up to him, Frederica should have been the one to curtsy.

“I talked to your mother,” she said, giving Bernadine a glance. He hated that his mother got along with Frederica. He’d much rather his mother hate his wife like she hated every other woman he had ever been interested in. “She was very clear. She doesn’t want to see anyone but Friedrich.”

“So then bring her Friedrich,” he sighed, looking around at the terrified staff. All of them backed off when his gaze swept past. “What is with everyone being so slow these days?”

“He left.”

“What do you mean he left?”

…

After lunch, Friedrich invited you on a walk, to show you something. Judging by the looks of it, it was most definitely something special. And top secret.

“No peeking!” he said, for the eleventh time.

He made you close your eyes and cover them with your hand. So now you were walking, blinded, in the woods. Your guide was an idiot. An idiot who had really soft hands. You thought being unable to see might make you somehow immune to his charming grin and stupidly perfect face but it only worsened the effect he had on you.

He placed one on the small of your back, the other on the crook of your elbow. You felt it every time he moved his hand, every time he dug his fingers into your skin to nudge you in a certain direction. The anticipation of not knowing what his next move was didn’t help either. And neither did the caramelized aroma of coffee lingering on his clothes.

“If I open my eyes, it will be to punch you for making me trip on a branch or fall into a hole.”

His grip around you tightened. “I won’t,” he laughed before inching closer to whisper, “At least not on purpose.”

You let out a shaky breath once you felt he was far enough from you to not notice. You needed to keep your head cool, enough to make him think you were unphased by his words and his touch.

“I swear, Friedrich. You had better be on your best behavior.”

“You sound like Oma. She’d always say that- Ouch!”

You had given him a swat on the hand. A well deserved one. “That did not hurt,” you scoffed.

“Yeah, you hit like my Oma too - Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled, sensing another one coming.

“I understand why Daphne left you for Simon now. What do you think you’re doing? Comparing a girl to your grandmother? I know I’m no love interest but still!”

“I’ll have you know: my grandmother is a very interesting person. A bit scary but I guess that goes away with time.”

You had been through this many times before in your life: dreading what was to come and feeling absolutely helpless about it. Three times with Friedrich, the King and Frederica. The results were never as horrible as you had imagined but you wouldn’t allow yourself to feel peace before. Because God forbid this should be unlike those times before. You could not afford for his Oma to hate you.

You sighed with good humor, not wanting Friedrich to worry about you. “Alright, tell me something about her.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Anything? Something not scary, preferably. I would like to not be trembling when I meet her.”

Friedrich chortled, sliding his cotton gloved hand down your arm to hold your hand. His fingers around yours as he helped you step past a small log. To your dismay but also odd satisfaction, his hand stayed there.

“You may not believe it but I was rather puny as a child. The smallest out of all my cousins. At family dinners, the other kids would take my desserts and I wouldn’t be able to fight to get them back.”

He went on to tell you that his Oma had the chefs send pastries to his room afterward, behind his parents’ back. You thought it was cute. And while it was told with good intentions, all the story reinforced was that Friedrich was her favorite, dearest grandson.

No pressure, at all.

From the way he talked about his Oma, you could feel his love. It was different from the one he had for his mother. With Frederica, it was the unbreakable bond forged between mother and child. One that had been there since the day he was born. With his Oma, though, it was respect and adoration for someone who he learned to love as he grew up. You never knew your grandmother but if you had one like his, you would love her too.

“We’re here,” he paused. You swore you heard him taking a deep breath. Was he nervous? “You can open your eyes now.”

Now you were nervous. An eternity seemed to have passed since he made you close your eyes. What surprise did he have for you this time?

You opened your eyes, squinting at the light as you adjusted to the natural brightness around you. When your vision finally cleared up, you still had to blink thrice at the sight before you. You were looking at a beautiful three-story Palace, standing humbly in this part of the woods, just waiting to be discovered. But even more impressive than the building itself were the gardens that surrounded it.

You were standing under a hedge gate, with purple wisteria flowers climbing all up the sides. Friedrich had to duck his head to avoid knocking against one of the branches. You slowly strolled along the gravel path lined with trimmed hedges, your eyes running over all the flower beds: honeysuckle, lily of the valley, foxglove, forget-me-not and roses. So many rose bushes. The vibrant smell and colors had your senses going wild.

You could barely utter a word. All you had were gasps and looks to throw Friedrich’s way. The first thing you said to him was when he had taken you inside of the house, into a huge lobby.

“This is absolutely gorgeous, Friedrich,” you said, taking everything in - the elaborate details on the ceiling and walls, the uniquely patterned tiles on the floors, the bold color choices of the furniture. “Whoever lives here must have been quite eclectic. They did an amazing job on the furnishing.”

He grinned, “Yes, quite. This was Queen Elisabeth Christine’s summer home.”

You two stopped before a portrait of a beautiful woman in a powder blue dress. She sat in front of a curtained wall, behind which was a rather familiar landscape.

“Is that-”

“Elisabeth Christine in front of this very house. She commissioned that painting herself. Do you know her?”

Do you know her? How could you forget? The ill-fated Elisabeth Christine, wife of Friedrich the Great. The missing portrait in the gallery you walked past every day. Even though you didn’t think of her as often as you did in the beginning, her story always left you terrified for your own future. And the thought sent your heart sinking, swallowing all the joy you had just felt moments ago.

“Y/N, is everything alright?” he asked, growing more frantic by the second.

“I’m alright. Just need some fresh air, that’s all.”

He took you back out into the gardens where fresh air filled your lungs and cooled your skin. You sat down on a marble bench, in front of a red rose bush. You focused on the rose almost in bloom, sitting behind all the thorny branches. Its scarlet velvet petals distracted you while you tried to regain control of your own mind.

Friedrich kneeled before you, quietly watching you with attentive ocean eyes. When your eyes met, you gave him a small smile. Not meant to mock or jeer. It was simply a smile. He returned it with one of his own.

“You scared me to death.”

“Sorry. Just had a moment there.”

He nodded, eyes floating past you, towards the roses. You didn’t know what he was going to do until he reached out, leaning his entire body forward. His blond curls almost brushed your face as he plucked the red rose you had been eyeing.

You froze, unable to breath, unable to move. You were afraid if you did, you would pull him right into your arms.

He looked so huggable. He always did. But especially in his poet’s shirt and coat. The jacket fronts left hanging open. You could easily snake your hands around his waist through them.

You continued to be in this confusing state as you watched him kneel back down, fidgeting with the stem. You didn't register what he was doing until he placed a thornless rose on your lap. Your eyes immediately searched his hands. He had just stuck his hand in a rose bush and picked off all the thorns of a rose, for you.

You would be reeling from the romantic nature of his gesture but you had a feeling. Just as you feared, you found a tear in his glove.

You didn’t think. You just took his hand into yours, peering past the torn cloth and discovered a long cut across the back of his hand. Luckily, it wasn’t deep. But nevertheless, it was bleeding.

“Are you crazy? You’re bleeding!”

“Am I?” Friedrich laughed when he saw it, sitting down next to you. “That didn’t even hurt.”

“Give me some water,” you said, holding out your hand. Friedrich fished a flask out from his coat and placed it in your hold without any objection. He’d better not start joking now.

You took his glove off, still mumbling, “Are you insane? What’s wrong with you?”

Friedrich looked away, trying not to laugh as he apologized. It bothered you that he was so nonchalant about it. You thought about hitting him so that he would start regretting what he did. But then when you had to clean the cut, you found yourself hesitating as you hovered the flask over his hand.

You didn’t want to hurt him.

You bit your lips, watching his expressions to see if it burned. Friedrich didn’t even flinch. He was completely unaffected.

Then, you broke eye contact, looking down at the flask as you closed it.

At your momentarily puzzled gaze, he dipped his head, his curls toppling over to match your eye line once more. “Believe me, I’ve had much worse. This is nothing more than a paper cut. When I was learning how to ride a horse—”

“No!” you held up your hand. “I’m not hearing all the ways you recklessly injured yourself. What makes you think that helps?” you asked, securing his glove around his hand. “And what were you thinking? You could have severely injured your hand!”

“Are you done?”

You raised an eyebrow. He did not just. You sighed, holding back from shoving him back into the rose bush. “You are astonishingly idiotic. There, I’m done.”

Friedrich laughed and you found yourself fighting another grin again. Your anger simmered down at the sound of his warm voice.

“I’m sorry that I worried you.” He then held up the rose with his other hand and continued, “I was thinking about this.”

Friedrich brought his hand to your cheek, lingering there for a moment before his fingers pushed a tuft of your hair along with the flower behind your ear. He sat back to admire you, beaming.

That very moment, something snapped in place.

You inhaled sharply. This time, there was no doubt that he had heard it. “Friedrich,” you called, quietly.

“Yes?”

You leaned in until your cheek brushed his. By then, you couldn’t hear anything but the heartbeat thumping so loudly, so rapidly inside your chest. You turned your head, your lips to his cheeks.

“Thank you for today,” you said before pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek.

When you pulled away, Friedrich couldn’t take his eyes off you. And neither could you look anywhere else but him. His cheeks blushed pink, the spot where you kissed him tinged with the lipstick you wore.

He may just feel the same.

“Shall we head back?” you asked with a grin.

…

Once again, Heinrich found himself in the middle of the crossfire. This time though, it was amongst the King, the Queen and the King’s mistress. Not an easy crowd to be in, that was for sure. He could feel their gazes on him from three corridors away. And he knew what he was being summoned for. He really didn’t mind keeping secrets and being the middleman for Friedrich. After all, they were dear friends. But being sent for every other day to meet the King or the Queen was certainly sending him to an early grave.

The King stood up, his heavy cloak dropping onto the floor with a dull thud when he saw Heinrich. “Where’s my son? And why is it that every time he steps out of line, you’re there to help?”

“Eure Majestäten, I-”

Before Heinrich could utter a pathetic excuse out, the Queen held up a hand to stop him with a knowing look. “Does it matter where he is, Ludwig? What matters is that he’ll come back soon. Yes?”

Heinrich wasn’t exactly sure how to react. Agree with the Queen and disagree with the King or vice versa. So he gave something between a nod and shake of the head, resembling a confused roly-poly doll in the process.

“One of these days, I’ll lock this damn place up and no one goes in or out without my permission.”

The Queen had her back to the King, taking slow steps away. The King was staring daggers into her back. But something told Heinrich that she wasn’t exactly afraid of him. Not at all.

“Then, you’d have to authorize guards and maids going in and out everyday for their shifts. Sounds a bit excessive, don’t you think? Wouldn’t you rather spend that precious time on doing things that are actually important for the country? Like hunting, perhaps?” She turned to face him, a challenging look in her eyes.

The King’s face turned bright red, his fists balled. The Queen’s smirk remained on her lips, holding her chin high. Heinrich could only blink, keeping close watch on both of them. There was little chance of a first fight between the monarchs but he was prepared for anything. And yes, that included placing himself in the middle of the violence.

But there was no need. Just in time, in marched a group of guards, escorting the couple of the hour. Friedrich and you. Any later and Heinrich might just drop dead of a heart attack.

“Hurry up. Your grandmother is asking for you,” the King said. His voice surprisingly flat, compared to minutes earlier. “Just you.”

That was when Heinrich noticed you two were holding hands. Friedrich tugged you a tad closer. “It’s alright. I’ll be with you in a second,” Heinrich heard the Prince say.

You nodded. “Go.”

The tender moment left the room speechless. Heinrich had no idea what happened in the span of a couple of hours you were gone. But whatever did change, he was glad for it. Maybe you two weren’t so clueless after all.

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