The Pet

Chapter I Her Arrival

Berlin, October 1871

"Danzig is the key to everything." Napoleon

"The spiked hand/that has an affection for one/and proves it to the bone." Marianne Moore, "Marriage"

Adelajda Konstancja Łukasiewicz, the city of Danzig, stood on the platform of the train station in Berlin. Train whistles blew and conductors called names of cities, some which she recognized from her days in the Hanseatic League. Men and women strode by her purposefully, speaking amongst themselves in the quick, hard-sounding German of the region. She could understand them, since Germans and Poles had intermingled in her city for centuries. Here she was , she realized, and now there was no turning back

When she and Elena, the city of Krakow, had volunteered—no, demanded— that their brother Feliks let them share the burdens of partition, she hadn't realized how overwhelming it would actually be. She just knew how ill he looked when she had seen him during the past few visits to Danzig (in private, they used her Polish name, Gdansk) enroute to spending four months in Russia, and her heart felt for him. He was trying so hard to keep her and Elena from suffering, but they were young women now and needed to protect him as he had protected them. When she and Elena had come up with their plan to spare his health, he had refused at first, out of stubborn pride. Finally, the two sisters had to go behind his back, presenting their proposition to their ruling powers. At first, Prussia had been dismissive in his letters to Adeladja; he claimed he was sorry that she was alarmed by her brother's condition, and threatened to spare her further worry by ending Feliks's visits. Then after the declaration of the German Empire in January of this year, Prussia's letters changed their tone. Now he was willing to consider her offer and would even work with Austria and Hungary (who had agreed to the sisters' plan first) to persuade Russia. Under the new arrangement, Elena would go to Vienna, since Krakow fell in the Austria-Hungarian Empire, Adeladja would go to Berlin as the property of Prussia and the newly crowned German Empire, and Feliks would remain in Warsaw, under Russia's rule. Ivan Braginski finally consented, and as time grew closer, Adeladja prepared for her departure from the city she had represented during her whole existence.

Two things remained to be done. First, she continued corresponding with Prussia, hoping to finalize in writing the specifics of their agreement, but he kept replying that they would do that on her arrival in Berlin. That did not put her at ease, especially after completing her second goal, which was her last meeting with her brother before he left for Warsaw.

Adeladja remembered how pale and thin Feliks had looked in the spring, but the fire in his light green eyes remained. He had resigned himself to spending his time in Russia because his people there needed him the most after the cruel putdown of the 1862 January uprising, and he knew he would not suffer alone. Latvia, Lithuania, and even Russia's sister, Belarus, were all being punished for the different rebellions their mortals had started after the Poles began theirs. He had seen Elenka for the last time, safe in Vienna with their family friend, Hungary, and he could trust Austria would be a gentleman to her. But, he had told Adeladja, he worried most about her.

"There's no reason to worry about me. I worry about you, Feliks," Adeladja had replied, taking his hands. They had been so thin, she felt the bones and tendons under his pale, rough skin. "The constant traveling, the going from one nation's oppression to another's; it was grinding you into dust!"

Feliks had shrugged. "Tak, both Russia and Prussia are cruel, but there's a difference to them. Ivan can beat me senseless one moment, and then revive me with vodka and talk of music and literature the next. He is like the boy who beats his pony because he honestly thinks it can't feel pain and that is the only way to make it go. And then there's the boy who beats his dog because he knows it feels pain and he enjoys the power he has to do so." Feliks had looked looked long and hard at Adeladja. "Gilbert Bielschmidt is that boy."

Adeladja had tried to hide her shudder. "He has been very polite in his letters to me and I am sure the German Empire will not allow him to treat me in such a fashion."

Feliks had smiled joylessly."You'll see what the German Empire can and cannot do when it comes to Prussia. And who knows, Adeladja, maybe you're right. He might treat a female entity better than a male. But I want you to remember two things." His green eyes had flashed gold and peridot green as he clutched her shoulders. Adeladja had gasped at her brother's unexpected strength. "First, you must do whatever you can to ensure the safety and survival of our mortals, not just in your city, but now the whole Empire. You are a Polish city, no matter if they call you Danzig and claim you've always been theirs." She was about to protest that of course she knew that, but his fierce gaze silenced her. "They'll try to convince you that you are more German than Polish, that you always belonged to them, and they'll go on for so long about it that you'll almost believe them. Don't ever let them convince you of that, no matter what. And finally, don't do anything to bring shame on our people or family, for you represent us. It would break my heart to hear you have forgotten yourself in any way." He had leaned over and kissed her forehead before she could point out his contradictory statements, and left.

So here she was in Berlin during October. She leaned against her trunk and sighed. The afternoon sun shining right in her face made it difficult to see, so she shaded her eyes with a gloved hand as she scanned the platform and carriages.

A wild thought came to her. Maybe she could avoid this after all! She could get the train back to Danzig, and go back to her house on Long Street. When Prussia would finally realize he had been outfoxed and demand her return to Berlin, she would mildly reply that that was not possible, but she would be happy to serve him from her city. It was, after all, in Prussia. But then she thought of Feliks and how he would suffer for her refusal to honor the agreement, and she felt guilty. Still, no one seemed to be coming for her, and -

"Fraulein Danzig?" Someone was speaking close by. "Fraulein Danzig!" She recognized that voice. The last time she had heard it, it had been 1793, the year of the third partition, when Prussia had claimed her as his share. She had heard rumors of what he had planned to do to her, and she had been preparing to go into hiding. He and his sister Maria, the city of Königsberg, had banged on her locked door, wheedling, taunting, and finally threatening her. By the time they and their mortals had banged down the door, she had fled through a hidden servant's entrance, faithful Danziger mortals leading her through a network of attics and rooftops to a safe place. The harsh tenor voice and Berliner dialect still had the power to unnerve her.

She turned and saw him in a Prussian officer's military tunic standing behind her. She had to admit that being the Kingdom of Prussia had certainly been good for Gilbert Bielschmidt. He was of medium height, and slender. The uniform flattered his broad shoulders and trim waist. His pale skin was slightly sunburned on his nose's bridge and cheekbones and his white-blond hair drifted in his face. He seemed healthier and more confident than he had been as the Teutonic Order and the Duchy of Prussia.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Adeladja," Prussia said. His irises were a dark red. Adeladja had forgotten how disturbing his eye color could be. She flicked him a smile and curtseyed. She was no longer a Royal City of Poland, nor a Free State; she had to show some submission to him.

"Here I am, Herr Bielschmidt, just as I promised," she murmured. When she looked up, she noted his approval.

"Ja, here you are," he admitted. "And I must say, your German pronunciation is a pleasure to hear after your brother's."

"Danke, mein Herr," she said, relieved. He began to stride off, and she stared after him, stunned. He stopped, turned and snapped, "Wat?"

Adeladja tilted her head towards her trunk. The Prussian huffed. "You won't need all that." He looked at the carpet bag at her feet. "You can bring that." When Adeladja hesitated, he picked it up and tossed it to her. "Come." He strode off and she trotted after him. "But my clothes, Herr Bielschmidt—" she protested.

He spun around so quickly, she almost ran into him. He grabbed her chin. "First," he said, "you will call me MeinHerr Preußen. We are not equals, we are not allies, you're not even a principality or a state. You, Fraulein Danzig, might be a city, but you are my city, as well as a stand-in for your brother, and I will call you whatever I feel like." He smiled, a wolf baring its teeth. "Second, as to clothes, you are not here to set the fashions. You will be given whatever clothing is deemed appropriate for your station. Do you understand me, Adeladja?" His use of her personal name rattled her. He was making it clear that he saw her as inferior and unworthy of courtesies used among entities.

"Ja." She swallowed hard to shove down the lump rising in her throat. "Ja, MeinHerr Preußen."

He looked almost playful as he waggled her chin. "Ja, wat?"

"Ja, ich verstehe Sie.1" She cast her eyes down. "MeinHerr Preußen." She added for good measure.

"Gut. Now, there is my carriage." He took her hand and pulled her along to a landau with its top up. He helped her into the carriage, jumped in light as a cat, and settled in the seat facing her. The coachman whipped up the horses and she steeled herself for the bounce and jolt of the ride.

Herr Prussia leaned back and stretched out his legs. He rested his cheek against his hand and studied her. Adeladja looked out the window, noticing how new the houses and roads looked. Berlin is not an old city, she thought.

"What can you do, Adeladja?" His tone seemed almost friendly."I have to find something for you. It was easy with your brother. I could put him in the Army or set him to work in the stables. Or other things." He winked at her, and she shuddered, even if she wasn't sure about what he insinuated. "So, what can you do?"

"MeinHerr Preußen, I read, write and speak Polish, German, Russian, French and Dutch. I have a reading knowledge of Danish, English, Swedish and Latin." She knew that her Latin had always been more correct than his. "I know geography, the movement of stars and planets, and how to use the most modern navigation tools. I paint and sketch rather well, I know the most fashionable dances, I play—"

"Can you bake?" Prussia interrupted. "Can you make makowiec or sernik?""2

Adeladja blushed. "I know the recipes, but I always had mortals do the actual baking."

Prussia raised an eyebrow. "That's odd. Your brother could bake. How about other food?" He asked. "Can you make flaki, zupa gryzbowa, pierogi, gołąbki or bigos?"3

"Again, Mein Herr, I know the recipes and I can tell when they have been successfully executed, but," she sighed, "I had mortals cook for me."

Prussia sighed. "Can you at least mend clothing or darn socks?"

Adeladja was feeling very small. "I can embroider and knit lace."

"So you're basically useless," Prussia declared. "First, you're not a man, so that makes you no good for most tasks anyway. Second, you can't even bake, cook or do useful sewing. It's all fine lady work and I can find a thousand fine ladies to do half the things you do. So again, Adeladja," he repeated, his eyes roving over her until she blushed, "what am I going to do with you?" He narrowed his eyes and smirked at her.

For the first time, Adeladja felt afraid, and even angry at his dismissiveness. Now she regretted that she had not bargained better in writing what her duties would be in Berlin. But she had been so eager to end her brother's suffering, that she had felt rushed for time. She would have to negotiate at a disadvantage, but first she would have to hide her nerves.

She raised her chin, looked into his eyes, and spoke clearly. "I know how to balance accounts, how to convert every kind of weight and measurement system, and how to convert currencies. I know how to compound interest, and how to tell counterfeit currency from true. I know international shipping law and customs," she concluded. She had been—is—an important trade city, after all.

"I guess that could be useful." He looked out the window and then smiled back at her. "See? That is my house."

She turned and saw a large neoclassical building looming in the distance. The carriage clattered along a bridge decked with heroic statues.

"That's the Stadtschlosse. One of my homes." Prussia said proudly. "What do you think?"

"It's very impressive, MeinHerr Prueßen," she said obediently. Frankly, she thought it was too large and cold-looking. But if he wanted her to be awestruck, then she was.

"You may see my other homes," Prussia said grandly, "if I decide that is part of your job."

They rolled up to the Stadtschlosse and Prussia leapt out. He offered her his hand and helped her out of the landau. Adeladja felt very humble with only her traveling suit and carpet bag.

She followed him through the entrance and halls along the ground floor. It seemed every mortal knew whom he was; the guards and servants nodded and slid out of their way. Finally after so many turns and doorways, he brought her to a room. It was small and sparsely furnished, but the four-poster bed, two chairs and writing table, and an ancient-looking cabinet seemed to be of good workmanship. The carved stone fireplace was dirty and the bed hangings and curtains were in need of a good beating for dust and goodness knows what else.

Prussia watched her place her carpet bag on the table. "You won't have a personal maid here," he announced, "but you will have a member of the household staff clean your room weekly. Also, I've notified the staff that the room will now be occupied, so you'll get coal and lamp oil weekly and water daily. You'll have to put in your own request for a bath with this wing's steward. You'll take your meals with the household staff in the downstairs kitchen." He told her the times staff ate, and she nodded.

"There," he said, looking around with an air of satisfaction. "Put away your things, go to dinner and rest up. I'll let you know when I have figured out what you'll do to earn your keep around here, ja?"

Adeladja scanned the dimly lit room, its cold bare floors, and dirty windows. She realized her carpet bag had only basic toiletries, some sentimental jewelry, and one other shift and pair of stockings and drawers. Unpacking would take no time at all. "Ja, Mein Herr," she sighed.

He sauntered around her, close enough to touch. Adeladja watched him out of the corner of her eyes, trying to control her breathing. Prussia finally stopped behind her, his breath grazing her ear. Adeladja tensed.

"What do you say when someone does something nice for you, Adeladja?" He purred.

"Danke, Mein Herr Preußen." She forced herself to turn and face him, head high. If he were going to violate her now, she thought, she would make him work for it and see her resentment, anger, and pain. She wondered if he could hear how loudly her heart was beating.

"Gut." He smiled, no kindness in his dark red eyes. "Now get settled in!" As he left, he swatted at her bustled behind. "Kesesese!" He cackled as he left, smirking at her jump and squeal. Adeladja glared after his back, as he shut the door on her and her new life.

Well, here it is, the story of the relationship between Prussia and Poland's sister, my original character, the city of Danzig (Gdansk). I know she wasn't exactly a fan favorite when she made her appearance in Maiden and Unicorn, but now we might see where her bitterness came from. I hope you like it and want to read more. Please let me know what you think in reviews!

1 German: Yes, I understand you

2 Polish: poppy seed pastry; cheesecake. Prussia hates a lot of things about Poland, but Polish pastry is not one of them

3 Beef tripe soup, mushroom soup, stuffed potato dumplings or hunter's stew. Very popular and classic Polish recipes.