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Berlin, Margraviate of Brandenburg
18 August 1688
Today feels like it should be a special day. But Gundolf was never sure what it would be about in the first place.
Usually she'd be playing with Lübeck, but she had no idea where her mother went. So, Gundolf was bored. And Gundolf's favourite place to go to when she's bored is the palace's flower garden. It was always her favourite place in this quiet home. The smell was always so fragrant here, compared to how bland her room was.
Her father always told her not to hurry, and so she didn't. She walked very slowly to the garden, as slow as she could possibly be with this boredom, and it didn't take long for her to find herself right in front of the doors to the entrance of the garden.
The garden was always so pretty to look at, even though it might feel the same sometimes, it definitely didn't smell similar to each other. Personally, she liked the wild flowers she can just pick outside whenever she does, but one flower inside the garden stands out the most to her.
This one smelled like the snow, somewhat. It had a more lighter look compared to the other flowers in the garden. Brandenburg called it a noble white flower. Not quite sure why her father would find it that way, but if he says the flower is noble, then it is. She's not sure what white means, but she'll believe her father.
She walked to where she remembered those flowers to be, unexpectedly encountering a familiar face as she did so. She blinked in confusion, as she stood silently while she watched the man (not as tall as Brandenburg, just shorter by a bit) overseeing a bunch of flowers by him. The flowers looked unlike the one she was searching for, it looked a bit more darker and its petals weren't like those noble white ones.
It seemed that the man noticed her presence, his expression previously glued to the flowers now shifted to her way. He looked at her strangely, somehow the same way Brandenburg looked at her sometimes. Lübeck never did that to her, though. The man—the Duke of Prussia, if she recalled correctly—opened his mouth and spoke, "Gundolf." He looked like he wanted to say more, but kept his mouth shut instead.
"Your Highness, Duke Prussia." She started. Brandenburg taught her that she should refer to the people with their prosoponyms rather their human names. Unless they had none. But he was a country, so he should have one, and he did. He didn't seem too happy being called that, though. Which did remind her that her father never called Prussia with any titles, but used comital ones with Lübeck. It was a bit weird but she wouldn't bother asking.
His eyes didn't quite look right to her, and he turned his gaze back to the flowers in front of him. She was unsure why he even called her out in the first place, but it didn't matter, as he picked the flower (it was perfectly pretty on its stem! It's going to die now) and his arm stretched out to her way. Oh, so he did that to give the flower to her.
"Your hand, Gundolf," She blinked several times in confusion, before doing what he asked and opened them to reach out for the flower. Prussia took her right hand and placed the flower on it, and continued, "this is a cornflower," it felt nice on her hand, yet she didn't like how it would die soon now it had no roots to anchor to. He took the flower back, before tucking it on her lapel. "Today is your day. Now, go on."
She wasn't sure what he meant by 'your day', but she followed his words anyway, and walked passed him to go and see her favourite flowers. If it really was her day, maybe he should've given her those noble white ones instead. The one he gave to her wasn't as pretty as what she liked more. Why did he do that anyway?
It didn't matter, he left already and she was now in front of what she liked more. It was nice smelling it, she found it superior to what he gave her scent-wise. She just liked how light the snow felt, she supposed. She sat on the ground, pulled her legs to her chest, and stared for a long time.
Gundolf started to hear footsteps coming her way. It didn't sound like the lightfooted gait that was Prussia's, neither was it as rambunctious as Lübeck's, which made it clear to her who thus heavy gait belonged to. Brandenburg always walked that way, maybe because he was an elector of the empire? She really wasn't sure who he's supposed to elect if his supposed aunt is always going to be the empress with her father—which made it weird, because Austria was neither Brandenburg's nor was she Lübeck's sister, so how are they related?
"Gundolf," he started, his voice reminding her of that weird tone Prussia used. "I was wondering where you were," oh, he was? That was odd. Usually he kept her alone to do things by herself, unless he wanted to teach her something about strategy or things like combat. The life of a margrave, she supposed. She was supposed to inherit that title too, wasn't she? "I should have expected you were here when Randolf told me."
Here he was again, calling Prussia with just his human name, with no titles or prosoponyms. But he did that with Lübeck, and everyone else. Why was Prussia so different to her father, anyway? Prussia was technically lower than her father because he was a duke and Brandenburg was an elector (not because he was a margrave, those are lower than dukes), but Prussia also referred to him with just 'Germund' rather than Your Serene Highness Arch-Chamberlain Margrave (or just Elector-Margrave) Brandenburg.
Well, whatever. He does whatever he wants to the man who lives with her, for some reason. A bit weird that Prussia lived here but not her own mother, Lübeck.
"What do you mean?" She also wasn't sure why he was searching for her in the first place. It was peculiar, really. There was no reason for him to do that. He bent down to then carry her on his waist. Gundolf wondered why this felt more comfortable compared to whenever Prussia tried to carry her on his own waist (and failed to do so).
"Do you not know?" Really, she didn't. It seemed that he took her silence as a confirmation over his question. He stared at the flower on her lapel, humming before saying, "You were born in this date."
Oh.
That was why Prussia said that this was her day, wasn't it?
Wait, why would he even care? He wasn't even related to her.
"Let us go, I have a few things prepared for you today." Brandenburg stated, before putting her down to now walk behind him. They exited the pretty garden, after Gundolf sent one last look at the noble white flower, and reached her hand out to hold on to her father's. He accepted it, but she was quite struggling to catch up with his pace. But she could manage.
They found themselves in front of her own room now, him pushing the door inside to open it, as the two went inside. Gundolf noted something she hadn't seen earlier this morning, a little box right on her bed. She couldn't help but to wonder what was inside it. He brought it to her, nudging her to open it. And so she did.
She was somehow unsurprised to see that inside was a sort of ceremonial daggers. They weren't really her thing, but her father gave them to her, so she'll take it anyway. Gundolf wasn't sure how to feel about it, though. But it was decorated nicely, so she supposed she wouldn't complain about things like that.
But you know, maybe something like a floral catalogue would be better...
He looked at her with an odd look, wondering what her reaction would be to the objects she stared at for a while. "If that's not enough, I also cleared my schedule so you can go somewhere you'd like," And that sounded way better to her compared to just getting a pair of daggers. What was she, a knight? "perhaps you want something in specific?"
She paused, trying to figure out whatever she'd like from him. She couldn't really think of anything more, if she had to be honest. At least other than spending more time with him and those flowers she really liked... "Can you stay with me in the garden?" She asked, looking upwards to stare at her father, who looked taken aback at the simple request.
"Is that all?" His brows furrowed. Oh, maybe he expected something more from her. The thing is, everything he did for her wasn't really something she herself liked to do for no reason. But she guessed it was important to her because she would succeed him one day.
"Can you add more flowers in the garden?" It wasn't anything he couldn't do, she was sure. If he could get more horses and weapons for her, why not something as abundant as flowers? She really liked them, after all.
"Hm, I suppose I can," those words made her happier than anything he said and offered today. Perhaps her excitement was very visible to him, who raised his brows and patted her hair in return. "You ask for such simple things, are flowers the only thing you like?"
"No, I like the things you do with those sticks and yarns too." She elaborated, noting how Prussia would often do the same sometimes.
"You mean you want to knit?" Brandenburg asked, surprised with her request. "I am sure I can convince Randolf to teach you, then." He hummed. Again with him, Gundolf really had no idea why Prussia never really said no to whatever her father said to him. But alright, then, if that gets her the things she liked, then she wouldn't say no to it.
"All right," she responded meekly. "Can we go now?"
She might've sounded impatient to her father's ears, who blinked several times in quick succession, before nodding and handing out his hand for her to hold—rather, just two fingers. "All right." He replied with the same short way she did.
They walked to the garden they found each other today, and Gundolf personally led her father to her favourite patches of flora to stare at again, and to enjoy the aroma of. Maybe her father wouldn't ever understand why she even liked these plants so much, because he was always so busy with his own battles, but at least he's here with her to not let her be alone in her doings.
He then spoke and broke the silence they were in, using a name which didn't belong to her—it was one of the Holy Roman Empire's many names—yet felt so right to her soul.
"Have a happy birthday, Germany."