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imaginethebeautifulworld · 3 months

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hello!

so i had a thought/request thing: prussia x reader sound of music au?

Oh I absolutely LOVE that thought!

I took a little creative license in this fic (which I will elaborate on in the after-notes), but ultimately I directly referenced some of my favorite scenes from the film.

Thank you for sending me the ask, and I hope you enjoy!

The children were finally asleep.

A spring storm had rolled in- a welcome relief to the dry heat which had plagued the city for several long days- but the thunder had troubled them.

You were hardly surprised when first a timid Ludvig came to your room, followed only moments later by Monika. It took a few more claps of thunder and flickering lights for Friedrich to appear, claiming with false bravado that he had come to make sure that you were safe.

You had distracted them from their fears, though some- such as the loud protests which continued with each passing day, the strange men seen lurking outside the house, and the current absence of their guardian- Some fears couldn't be assuaged.

But children were easy enough to sway from their dark thoughts, and you always had a gift for embellishing the truth.

This time, you chose not to rely on the ditty you had taught them several weeks prior (though you could hear Ludvig repeating 'whiskers on kittens' to himself), but instead crafted a tale of heroism about their big brother, one that soon worked its magic, all three falling asleep by the time the storm had settled into gentle rainfall, curled together atop your blankets.

Unfortunately, their restless energy had passed onto you, and after several moments of staring at the ceiling, you carefully, quietly, slipped out from beneath the covers, tugging on a nearby robe, and sliding on a pair of slippers before making your way to the library.

Time passed without your knowledge; you had found an old disc of American singers to play on the gramophone, and quickly tucked yourself into a novella that had caught your interest several days prior. It was a pleasant distraction, almost successful in keeping your frazzled thoughts from running wild.

Had his work run late? Had there been an accident? Had one of those radicals done something that was meant to look like an accident? Had-

The distant, sudden sound of the front door closing had you glancing towards the grandfather clock, that flicker of worry sparking to life once more as you noted the lateness of the hour.

His work often brought with it long hours, but this, even by his standards, was alarming.

You were relieved to hear his footsteps, and knew you must content yourself with the knowledge that he had at least made it home safely. He had, after all, made it perfectly clear some time ago that his welfare was none of your concern.

In vain, you tried to return to your book, but to your chagrin the combination of the gramophone's crackling, the tapping of raindrops on the windowpanes, and the nearing, shuffling footsteps kept you from falling back into the story. You feigned interest however as a familiar figure entered the doorway.

For a moment, he said nothing, silently studying you. You were hyper-aware of his gaze, were certain he could hear the panicked rush of your heartbeat, could see the heat dancing on your cheeks.

Finally, he spoke, your given name tumbling out almost as a sigh, and to your embarrassment it caused you to jump, startled by its presence in your already frenzied state.

You turned to face him directly, seeing his hand hanging uselessly in the air, looking for everything like a guilty schoolboy. In another circumstance, you could have laughed, seeing the normally rigid Captain so timid and unsure of himself. "Sorry! Sorry, I..." His words trailed off, the hand falling back to his side, all emotion gone from his features once more. "May I join you?"

No, you wanted to say, I'm not sure I could trust myself if you stay.

But your voice was welcoming him in, and you straightened your posture as he took the chair opposite you.

You tried once more to feign interest in your book, but your eyes kept straying from the page, unable to stop yourself from studying his features in the warm light, taken in by the vulnerability, small as it was, he was granting you, clearly beyond weary.

Your curiosity could no longer be helped. "Are you well, Herr Beilschmidt?"

A small smile flickered to life, half-formed and fragile, those peculiar scarlet eyes finding yours, your name once more slipping past his lips. "I thought we agreed you would call me Gilbert when we were alone?"

For a moment, he was no longer a Captain, not Herr Beilschmidt, but any other man, a man who could even become-

But that could not be, and you wouldn't allow your fantasies to jeopardize your work, couldn't bear the thought of being parted from the children. "I agreed to no such thing, Herr Beilschmidt."

He released a pained sort of sound, reminiscent of a scoff, and it prompted just enough of your ire for you to press onward with your curiosity. "You were out late this evening."

You couldn't fully conceal your concern, and it was clear that he had detected it, those eyes somber once more, studious and strategic.

Fearful of what he may find, you spoke once more, hiding the inconvenient truth with another, sweeter one. "The children missed you at dinner."

His study lingered, lips parting as if he were going to speak, before he dismissed it, a sadness surrounded him in its absence. "How were they today?"

This was neutral territory, familiar ground, and you breathed a silent sigh of relief. You began a retelling of the day's adventures, embellishing your words with a whimsy that had often earned you others' disdain. But G- Herr Beilschmidt- was amused, laughing at your failed attempt to mimic Friedrich's angered voice at Monika for daring to stick a frog in his pocket.

"And Luddy?"

Your smile softened at thoughts of the youngest Beilschmidt. "A dear as always. He insisted upon baking a cake with me earlier." The words triggered another memory, a more urgent one, and you rose with a suddenness that caused him to jump. "Pardon me; I forgot that we saved a slice for you! Excuse me for a moment?"

You didn't wait for his reply, already sweeping towards the open doorway, forgetting in your rush to grab a candle, the electric having gone down several hours ago.

The corridor loomed before you, quiet and filled with the darkness of the midnight hour. In the face of that alien light, your footsteps faltered, suddenly uncertain of a path you had tread dozens of times.

A warm presence appeared at your side, a gentle hand pressing to your lower back, as he fell into step beside you, carrying one of the candles. "Allow me?"

Your skin burned beneath the weight of his hand, memories of the party several nights before now dancing to the surface at his nearness.

How you wished you could turn him away now, but fear of the ghosts still haunting these ancients halls and nameless monsters lurking in the shadows far overpowered your fears of revealing your heart.

Slowly, quietly, you charted the course to the kitchen, and you were grateful to finally be able to step away, allowing yourself a moment to breathe, reign in your traitorous thoughts.

The ghost of his touch still remained however, and you busied yourself with pulling the cake from the ice box, pleasantly surprised to discover some remaining cream as well.

He had taken a seat at the small table often used by the house staff, several more candles lit in front of him. You were surprised to see he had pulled out two forks, standing and gesturing to the empty chair beside him. "Please; join me."

You should have taken your leave.

You should have made your excuses and retired for the evening.

But there was something so hopeful in his expression, and you couldn't resist the sway he held over you.

For a time, there were no words shared between you, the only sound the symphony of the falling rain, the distant notes of the gramophone, and the irregularity of silver tines clinking against porcelain.

"We should discuss what happened at the party."

His voice was unexpected, words hanging in the air with a tension you were loathe to acknowledge.

There was nothing to discuss, not to your mind.

He was betrothed to another, and he was your employer.

It could never be anything more, even if you should so desperately wish for it.

Still, you would always have those memories, safely locked away into your heart: Monika sighing, fondly watching the sparkling couples gliding across the ballroom floor, Ludvig pestering you with questions about the musicians, and Friedrich earnestly trying to master the Allemande with you, before Gilbert was unexpectedly cutting in, offering the children a brief history lesson even as he fell perfectly into step, words soon falling away, sparkling burgundy eyes locking with your own.

With each step, you felt your fragile defenses weakening, was certain he was drawing you nearer with every turn. Each clasp of hands sent a spark through your pulse, every point of contact buzzing with restless energy. As you took your final turn in a dance meant for four, you were met with a warm smile which stole the little breath you had left, and you were drowning in a wine-dark sea.

The spell was broken with Julchen's applause, surprise to see her home from university enough to distract the others, though Gilbert was slow to release your hand, lingering, before he finally drifted over to join his younger siblings.

You couldn't fathom why he should wish to discuss the ordeal now of all times, though to say it hadn't been on your mind, replaying in your thoughts for the past several weeks, would be a lie.

"You hired me to watch over your brothers and sisters, and I care for them dearly."

Your focus remained on the chocolate crumbs remaining on the plate, dark flecks against the otherwise pristine, pastel pink petals.

Even as he spoke your name once more, you did not turn to him, unable to face him. "Only the children?"

"No," you admitted, before you recognized your slip and quickly tried to rectify it. "Yes!" Trying to redirect his thoughts, you interrupted him before he could speak. "Isn't it right that I should care for them?"

You finally turned to him, praying your mask would hold, even as you once again found yourself the subject of his scrutiny. He was bewildered, clearly not expecting this turn.

"Of course it's right."

You saw another opening, one that could perhaps save you from his suspicions. "You invited me into your home, and I am grateful to you. I'll miss them very much when you and the Baroness-"

Oh, you couldn't even speak it, for goodness sake!

But this excuse was convenient, a simple shroud, disguising your feelings behind the implication that your true worries were being parted from the children, that you only dreaded his betrothed becoming his wife because-

You could face him no longer, your attention once more drawn back to the scene in front of you, candlelight dancing in refractions on the cutlery.

He let out a stray sound of bemusement, your given name yet again slipping from his lips in a fond murmur. "There isn't going to be a baroness."

Your attention flickered back to him almost immediately, disbelieving and concerned. "There isn't?"

"No," he hummed. There was a slant to his brow, a twist to his features which puzzled you.

"I don't understand."

His focus shifted away from you, a small smile once more flickering to life, not fading away this time but lingering, its lightness echoing in his voice. "We've called off our engagement-"

"Oh, I'm sorry," you whispered sincerely, not meaning to interrupt, but he was stunned nonetheless.

"You are?"

You nodded, unwilling to trust your voice in this moment.

His smile softened to something unreadable then, something which made your heart melt. "We both agreed that, well..." He suddenly was looking away from you, bashful in a way you didn't recognize, taking a steadying breath before he seemingly found the courage to face you once more, though his words were barely a whisper. "You can't marry someone when you're in love with someone else."

At first, you were unable to comprehend his words, desperate for confirmation. "Surely you don't mean-?"

His hand found yours, gentle and insistent. "I do. I've come to love you in a way... quite unexpected. And I," he paused, his eyes seeking your own with a tremulous yearning, one which carried in his words. "Is it foolish for me to hope that you love me, too?"

You thought back to the journey which had led you here: the arguments, the compromises, the love growing ever stronger with each passing day. This house had been a cold tomb when you had first arrived, specters haunting every square meter.

But now it was your home.

The children were your home.

Gilbert was your home.

He was still waiting for your answer, both despondent and eager, and you finally allowed your mask to fall away, smiling as you raised your free hand to gently cup his cheek, your vision hazing through tears.

It was uncertain who moved first, but the kiss was all you could hope it to be: gentle, loving, with an added sweetness from the lingering tastes of cake and cream.

He sighed as you slowly drew away, the candlelight dancing in his eyes, a bright smile creasing his features.

You had made many mistakes in this life, taken many missteps, but to be blessed with this life, to find such love and a place to call home?

Somewhere along the way, you must have done something good.

One of the most notable changes was directly adjusting Gil's role compared to Captain von Trapp's. The Sound of Music carries an inherent antifascist message, which allowed me to explore more of my belief that Gilbert was a Prussian Social Democrat, a member of one of the most influential political parties directly challenging the rising fascist ideals of the growing Nazi Party. Several assassination attempts were made on members of the Social Democrats, before, ultimately, tragically, their work against the Nazi Party was overruled by vote.

I opted to keep Gil as a big brother instead of a father; I cherish the relationship they have already, and the thought of them not only losing a parent, but watching their beloved, bright brother fade away into someone they barely know- It was too good.

I spent quite sometime trying to finding a traditional German couple's dance, and even the Allemande, from the Baroque period, was intended for a group of four.

I wish this could have been longer, but at over 2000 words already. I am content.

Thank you again for the ask, and thank you so much to everyone for reading!

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