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bone-evidence · 7 days ago

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AND THE LAST PRUCAN MINIFIC IS FINALLY HERE

@artemiswolfheart I'm so sorry for how long this took, I hope you enjoy anyways :') This is set in the universe for my fic In Between, where Matthew is some flavour of immortal stuck in a house with the German Family's ghosts. And the prompt was, 'You had this planned all along, didn't you?' (Okay turns out this is 1.3k so not exactly mini but whatever it's been months lmao)

Whenever the gloomy manor on the hill came alive, it was usually the most active resident ghost's fault.

This time was no exception, of course. As Matthew walked the lonely, rat-eaten halls, Gilbert's shade seemed to follow him everywhere. A little gleeful cackle here, arms darker than night wrapping around him there… truth be told, the ghost's apparent mirth was infectious. Matthew found himself smiling more than he could ever remember, giggling when his incorporeal lover apparently tripped over a floorboard.

"Silly goose," He said with a grin as he offered a hand to one who he could barely feel. "You've got to be careful, Gilly. Wouldn't want you to scrape a knee!"

The memory of the laughter that echoed through the hall was one that Matthew was sure would still make him smile for years to come.

It wasn't just Gilbert himself who seemed to be in high spirits. For the first time in a long time, perhaps ever, Matthew heard joyful music coming from the room upstairs he dare not go into. Musicman, the one who guarded that room like a jealous lover, had apparently decided that now was the time to pick up his violin and begin to play again. Matthew knew he couldn't go in. He didn't fancy getting the breath knocked out of him again, after all. But he figured perhaps it wouldn't be a crime to sit outside the door and listen for a while. Maybe Musicman would appreciate his audience of one.

As the days wore on, Matthew couldn't help but notice that the house itself seemed… different. He'd been here for many, many untold years, wandering it's halls like a ghost yet not being allowed to join the dead. Of the places he frequented, he knew every corner, nook and cranny. He was very familiar with the dourness that seemed to emanate from the rotting walls. Yet now, when the sun decided to show it's face, he noticed beams of it hitting in places he'd never noticed before. Pillars of light, all streaming in from the windows in the hallway to the library, all pointing towards it and the gold framed painting of Gilbert that hung up beside the door… hm. Matthew was pretty sure there was no way Gilbert could have made this happen. He was just a ghost, after all. But something in his heart took this as a sign.

When he approached the library later that night for his daily reading with his spectral love, he could feel a certain electricity in the air.

He pushed open the door to the grand library, ready to either select a book or have one thrown at him, then settle on the chair that was still somehow comfortable. He was ready to read aloud for however long Gilbert would listen. That was their routine, after all.

It seemed Gilbert had enough of routine for one day.

Matthew pushed open the door and found not just one book on the floor. No, there seemed to be a trail of them, leading well past his chair and into the deeper recesses of the library. That was certainly out of the ordinary, wasn't it? Curious, Matthew followed the trail. He walked past books with knights and princesses on the covers, past books detailing bird species and migration habits from over a century ago, and books about wars that had nearly been forgotten now. He walked until he came upon a door he'd never seen before in all his years of being in the library.

This is where the trail stopped.

It was times like these that Matthew sorely wished he had a map of the house. He opened the plain wooden door to reveal a hallway shrouded in darkness, with light coming from under the door that was apparently at the other side. That was strange in and of itself. Light in this house only existed either because Matthew found a spare box of matches, or because a certain someone decided to light his way.

That certain someone must have noticed his apprehension. The hair at the back of Matthew's neck stood up as something cold brushed past it. He just barely felt a hand tugging at his own, beckoning him to go down the hall and towards the unknown.

"Bitte… liebling…"

Well… Gilbert had never led him astray before, right? Matthew took a deep breath, made sure the door was propped open with a gigantic tome about Roman Architecture, and breached the blackness ahead of him.

Now, Matthew wasn't scared of the dark, necessarily. The halls of this house were ever dim, ever lit by a handful of candles who's meager flames cast shadows over everything that he'd rather not look at. He was more afraid of the dark he was unfamiliar with. And this hall, one that had laid dormant probably since the occupants of the house were alive, was unfamiliar indeed. Were it not for the hand in his own, the unseen guiding him through the unseen, he might very well have turned back.

When the door opened for him at the other end, he was very glad that he hadn't. He would have missed out on the most wonderful thing the house had offered him yet.

Before him, lit by enough candles to be a major fire hazard, was an impressive ballroom. Here, time had been much kinder, it seemed. The wooden floor was still intact, untouched by the whims of rot and ruin. The domed ceiling soared to what seemed like an impossible height, given the rest of the building. Matthew wondered how he'd never noticed it. Then again, when was the last time he'd actually left the house to see?

The grandest sight of all, however, waited for him in the middle of the dance floor. Matthew had only ever seen Gilbert as a dark shadow, the briefest flash of a toothy grin, a feeling of something playful and wonderful near him. He only knew what the man looked like from the painting hung up by the library.

Yet there he was, fully visible (if translucent). His shock of white hair, his poppy-red eyes, the clothes of an officer or a general or someone important in a military now made entirely of ghosts… He was here. Smiling so softly at Matthew. Holding his hand out, waiting for Matthew to pick his jaw up off the floor and come closer.

"Not… much time…" He said. His accent was incredibly thick, like these were the first words in English he'd ever spoken. "Dance… me?"

Who was Matthew to deny such a request?

He fought back tears as he practically ran over to his handsome soldier. All these years he wished so badly that he could see those beautiful eyes gazing at him so fondly, those thin, scarred lips with a lopsided grin only for him… if this were a dream, Matthew never wanted to wake up. He took the hand that was offered to him and choked down a sob as he did. He could actually feel it. There was no pulse, no warmth, but it felt tangible enough. He let Gilbert get them both into position, let the man put a cold hand on his hip, and then bent down to kiss his cold cheek.

"You had this planned all along, didn't you?" Matthew whispered through tears.

He didn't get a reply at first. Gilbert, now smirking, nodded to the dark shadow of the musician who haunted the corner of the room. A beautiful strain of violin music emanated from that corner and filled the ballroom with a waltz originally meant for many; now only played for two.

"Ich liebe dich… Engel…" Gilbert breathed as he began to lead.

Matthew wasn't sure how long this would last, how long he had to feel his spectral lover's arms around him and see his handsome face like this. He wasn't sure if he would ever get this chance again. He couldn't say anything back for fear of completely breaking down. But he hoped, as he kissed cold lips that eagerly returned it, his answer was clear.

I love you too, Gilbert. Thank you.

#hetalia #prucan #prucan minifics #hws canada #hws prussia #gilbert beilschmidt #matthew williams #I'M PROUD OF THIS ONE #And with it my minific series is done!!!!

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