Elise- Liechtenstein

Franz- Kugelmugel

…

So, a very happy birthday to ChocolateTurnip! Here's a few one-shots of your otp for you to enjoy! Some happy, some sad. Hopefully there are some funny ones dotted about too!

So this is the long story. Most of the other one-shots will be far shorter and in universes that make a bit of sense. This one's slightly steampunk and has robots and stuff. And is set in a made up land slightly based on a real place. And is sad. But not all of them will be! There's plenty of fluff to come too!

…

"Roddy, dearie, your father and I have a surprise for you!"

"Oh?" Prince Roderich Edelstein jumped down from his writing desk, where he was completing an essay for his tutor, and walked briskly over to his parents, who stood in the doorway. His mother, the Empress, was smiling warmly, tiara twinkling in the evening light. She looked beautiful in her purple evening gown; she always did.

"Think of it as an early birthday present," his father added, putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him into the hall. The Emperor was a large, intimidating man, but very softly spoken, with kind eyes and soft hair flowing from under his crown. Roderich found himself almost drowning in his father's long robes as he followed him into the hall.

Like the rest of the palace, the hall was huge and spacious with high ceilings, decorated with portraits and tapestries. Roderich stared up at the paintings of grim ancestors glaring down at him: old ladies dripping with the same diamonds and pearls his mother wore; middle aged men in military uniforms and elaborate moustaches; and children who never made it to adulthood staring down with wide, nervous eyes. In between the portraits and tapestries on one side of the wall were doors to the royal children's bedrooms, classroom and the nursery. On the other side, through the enormous windows, the setting sun threw the vast grounds into a splash of reds, oranges and purples. Far below him, Roderich fleetingly watched as the robotic gardener pushed a small, steam-powered lawnmower across the grass as another robot tended to the beautiful flowerbeds.

He walked along the corridor where he and his younger brother and sister spent a large part of their lives, playing and learning, tutored by a stern governess and surrounded by a sea of toys. The royal children wanted for nothing.

"Where are we going?" he asked, looking up at his mother.

"You'll see," she replied with a smile.

The Emperor and Empress led him down to the ground floor of the palace and out into the courtyard. And there in the middle was a figure, head bowed down.

"Who's that?" asked the young prince.

"Your present," his father replied, "see for yourself."

So Roderich strode down the flagstone steps towards the figure, obscured in the evening darkness, light barely reaching this side of the palace. He ignored the grand, elaborate arches that stretched around three edges of the courtyard and the fountain behind his present. He ignored everything except the person- which is what he assumed them to be- in front of him.

Although he was an impatient boy, he never once broke into a run, because he knew his parents would disapprove. So he settled for a regal stride. And after what felt like forever, he was finally stood in front of his present.

"Your first robot," his mother explained behind him, though Roderich could see for himself.

The robot was made from copper and decorated with silver, torso and legs painted green to give the impression that she was wearing a uniform. Thin, narrow sheets of metal were welded to her head, like hair, and tied in a ponytail running down her back. Her front was a mess of cogs, gears and dials, with a small red button where her collar bone would be.

"You press that to start it," the Emperor explained.

"Are you really giving me my own robot?" Roderich looked up at him in awe.

"Of course! You'll be eleven soon, almost a grown up."

"So what is she for?" Roderich turned back to the robot. Her eyes were shut and her head bowed down. She was the size of an adult, and towered over him.

"Your personal servant. It'll pretty much run around after you and do your bidding. And act as a bodyguard."

"What do I need a bodyguard for?" Roderich's eyes widened and he stared at his father in horror, "you're not sending me to a commoner school, are you?"

"No, of course not!" His father chuckled before his smile fell and he let out a sigh; "you are the heir to a vast and powerful Empire. One day when I am gone, you will rule that Empire, a rule which I hope will be long and peaceful. But there are those who seek to overthrow the monarchy, and kill us all. Especially me, the Emperor, your mother, the Empress, and especially you, the next in line for the throne. You need protection."

"So the robot will protect me from the bad people?"

"With its… err, life. Or whatever robots have."

Roderich stared up at the robot.

"Go on," his mother urged, "switch it on."

Roderich stood up on his tiptoes and pressed the red button. Immediately, the robot sprang to life, green eyes blinking slowly as she looked around. When those eyes- fierce but at the same time kind- fell upon him, her mouth pulled into a smile, and she took a step backwards to bow.

"It is nice to meet you at last, young Prince," she told him. "My name is Érzsebét Héderváry and it is an honour to serve you."

…

"I guess you should make yourself comfortable," Roderich began as he and Érzsebét stood in his chambers.

"Nonsense, young prince!" Érzsebét exclaimed, "I stand guard outside whilst you sleep!" Roderich couldn't help but feel relieved at that. He was a private child and hated anyone intruding on his personal space, especially a stranger and especially a servant. But on the other hand, he couldn't help but feel disappointed; there was something about Érzsebét that made him feel safe, how solid and real she felt, how she could probably hold her own in a fight, and how trustworthy she seemed. After what his parents had said- and why they thought he should have a bodyguard- he was reluctant to be left on his own. But he was not a small child any more, and he was the oldest son and heir, so he couldn't show weakness in front of anyone.

"That sounds best," he said with a voice more shaky than he'd hoped for. Érzsebét smiled warmly.

"Nothing can hurt you here; I will make sure of that." Then she walked out.

Roderich stared hopelessly at his closed bedroom door, gulping and shaking as he tore his gaze away and stumbled into his four-poster bed. He blew out his bedside candle, pulled the covers up to his chin and peered into the gloom.

Were there always this many shadows in his room at night? What if those shadows were hiding assassins or murderers? What if there was one hiding in his wardrobe, squashed up against his coats and shirts waiting until he fell asleep? The wind rattled outside and Roderich whined softly, ducking under the covers. Big mistake. Now he was too afraid to peek out again, in case there was a murderer who had somehow materialised in his room and was waiting for him to reappear. Something about hiding under his duvet made him feel safe, but now it was too hot and he couldn't see anything.

"Érzsebét!" he cried, and a second later he heard the door slam open.

"Young prince?" she replied and Roderich sighed in relief.

"Can you check there are no assassins in my room, please?"

"There aren't," Érzsebét replied, confused.

"But can you please check. Maybe they're hiding."

Roderich heard the clanking of Érzsebét's feet as she searched his room, opening his wardrobe, toy chest and even peering behind the curtains. Finally, she walked over to the bed and gently pulled back the covers to find Roderich curled up into a ball.

"You're safe, young prince," she told him, "nothing can get you in here."

"Stay," he mumbled, clutching her arm, "just for tonight."

"Of course," Érzsebét sat down on the floor beside him, singing softly until the boy finally drifted into a peaceful sleep.

…

"Big brother! Big brother!" Franz cried as he ran into the music room, "can I play with the robot?"

Roderich's hands slammed against the keys in his shock and he wheeled around on his stool.

"Don't startle me like that!" he cried.

"But can I?" Franz pressed; "oh please say yes!" Without waiting for a reply, he bounded over to Érzsebét.

"Hello, young prince," she greeted, kneeling down and ruffling the boy's hair.

"I thought that was my name," Roderich mumbled, glaring at the keys.

"Hello Miss Érzsebét," Franz replied, "can we play today?"

"I'm afraid not, young prince; I have a job to do."

"Go, it's fine," Roderich waved a hand, still not looking at them. At thirteen years old, he had grown from a gangly, awkward child into a gangly, awkward teenager. "Nothing will attack me here anyway."

"If you say so," Érzsebét looked uncertain as she allowed Franz to lead her out of the room. Roderich glanced up miserably as he watched them go. He knew he was rather petty by nature, but even this had to be a new low.

Jealous of his own brother?

Roderich resented himself for it almost as much as he resented Franz. He loved his brother, of course, and that was why he hated himself for his jealousy. But it just seemed so unfair that nobody had the same expectations of Franz that they did of Roderich. Because Franz was not the eldest, and thus not heir, he was allowed to be a child. There was no training from a very early age. No impossibly high expectations. No responsibilities. Franz was allowed to play and be a real child, within reason. He still had his lessons and was expected to behave in a certain way, but it was nothing compared to what Roderich had to go through. Franz didn't have to worry about the fact that one day he would rule over an Empire, wouldn't be under pressure to choose a noble girl to be his Empress. He could marry anyone he wanted.

Life truly wasn't fair.

…

"I really don't want to go to this thing," Roderich groaned, burying his head in his hands. Érzsebét just watched this display of emotion awkwardly before patting him on the back.

The pair were sitting on a bench in the Rose Garden, surrounded by hundreds of jewel-like flowers of all different colours. It was one of the few places outside that Roderich actually liked.

He was an adult now. He could speak five languages, play several instruments and explain the plots of hundreds of books. But none of that had even remotely prepared him for the responsibilities of being a prince.

None of those things were useful in combating his growing affections either, and lately he had begun to see his bodyguard in a different light. Of course, he would never say a thing on the subject to anyone.

"Could you not say you have some form of human defect?" she suggested, "like a cold."

"They'd never believe that." Roderich's entire family were now all too familiar with his antisocial tendencies and knew how to spot a terrible excuse when he gave one.

"Then why not go to this party? You might have fun there."

"But I'd much rather spend that time in the music room!" Roderich exclaimed, "besides, I'm twenty now! Father will make me talk to all these young noblewomen and dance with them and I don't want to!"

"Why not?"

"Because he will expect me to choose one to marry!"

"And you… don't want that to happen?" Érzsebét frowned, tilting her head slightly.

"Of course not!"

"Because you don't want to get married?"

"Exactly!" Roderich grinned, "wow Miss Érzsebét, you're getting better at understanding humans every day."

"Thank you, sir."

"But what if I loved another?" Roderich looked at his hands, trembling slightly. "And what if I couldn't marry them because it would be inappropriate?"

Érzsebét was silent for a moment. "Sir, I honestly don't know. I just clean and make sure you're happy."

"But you can think, right?" Roderich pressed. "What should I do?"

"Keep your feelings hidden," Érzsebét nodded, "it's what I do."

"I didn't even know you could feel," he cracked a small smile.

"I feel a lot of things. I'm a robot, not a kettle! I have a brain, and a heart, you know?"

"Good to know," he laughed, "that the one person I feel safe around has a heart."

…

That evening, the noble families from across the empire gathered in the palace to dance to the orchestra and observe the royal children, now royal young adults. Franz mostly ignored them, devoting his time to the buffet whilst Elise made some effort at conversation, her polite charm and adorable face making her popular among the courtiers.

Roderich, meanwhile, tried his best to linger at the edges, declining any offer of a dance. He talked to a few people he knew, and generally avoided those he didn't. He spied Érzsebét, weaving in between partiers with a tray of glasses and she winked at him, but apart from that he felt utterly alone.

After yet another glare from his father, Roderich decided he needed a break, and snuck out through a side door. Down a flight of stairs. Through the scullery. And he was outside.

Roderich breathed the fresh air of the gardens, steeling himself to go back inside. He didn't want to! He normally didn't mind parties, but now he was an adult and there was so much pressure on him to marry. Why couldn't he just name Elise or Franz as his heir and marry who he wanted? Was it really such a big deal?

He heard the door open behind him, and wheeled round to find Érzsebét staring at him curiously.

"Oh, it's you," he sighed in relief. "I thought it was my father."

"Well, if you're having trouble differentiating, I don't have a beard or crown."

Roderich laughed, taking her hand and leading her along the gardens. "Come, walk with me. I'm sure we both could do with some air." Érzsebét tilted her head. "Err, it's an expression."

"I see."

Roderich hoped Érzsebét wouldn't notice how sweaty his hand was. His heart raced as he tried to remember if robots' senses were that acute.

He wondered if this was the time to tell her.

But it was too inappropriate! She was a servant and he was the prince! And she was a robot too. It never bothered him but it could bloody well bother her! Érzsebét might not even understand him entirely, or feel like she was obliged to say yes, and the last thing he wanted was to take advantage of her.

Plus, if they did enter a relationship, then eventually someone would find out, tell his parents and they'd dismantle Érzsebét. Then he would be truly alone. And Érzsebét certainly didn't deserve to suffer such a fate because of him!

No, this was a secret he needed to take to the grave.

…

Roderich beamed as his fingers finally played the most difficult piece of that particular symphony with ease for the first time ever. His chest swelled with pride and he couldn't wait to tell Érzsebét the news; she'd always said he could do it.

The door opened and the girl herself entered, but before Roderich could speak, she raised a hand.

"It's time."

Roderich groaned. He'd forgotten about that procession he was supposed to attend. What was he even supposed to do? Go to some government building with his parents and pose for some photographs and listen to some speeches.

Why couldn't he have been born a hat?

He whimpered as he dragged himself to his feet and Érzsebét chuckled.

"Oh come on," she cooed, "it won't be that bad!"

"Kill me," he groaned.

"Oh hush," Érzsebét draped a coat over his shoulders and pushed him gently out the door.

…

Roderich stared boredly at the flash of booming cameras as his father signed some agreement or another on the steps of the government building. His mother was still inside, and Érzsebét, as his bodyguard, was right next to him.

All he could think about was going back to his piano. Maybe with a nice cup of coffee and a tray of cakes. He could just shuffle around the place in a dressing gown and slippers for the rest of the evening and no one would be taking pictures of him like he was some museum exhibit.

A series of shouts from the crowd interrupted his thoughts, but before he could focus on the origins of the noise, someone knocked him to the ground.

A great explosion sounded, drowning out his screams and he curled up into a ball. What was happening? There was a bright light and he shut his eyes. The world seemed to stop. There was no sound. Nothing reached his ears.

Until a piercing scream sounded and he finally forced his eyes open. He glanced down the steps and saw a young man with messy hair being restrained by police as he screamed and shouted his hate, eyes feral. He cursed Roderich's entire family as they dragged him away.

Then he saw Érzsebét.

It had been her who saw the grenade coming. Her who pushed him to safety and used her body as a shield. It was her who was now lying on her back, black oil spilling onto the stones as she twitched feebly.

It was Érzsebét who was now dying.

"No." It was little more than a whisper, but it brought home to situation, and gave Roderich the strength he needed to say goodbye.

There was no point denying it, he realised as he crawled closer to the mess of gears and torn metal. Érzsebét had little time left and he needed to speak to her once more.

"Érzsi," he murmured, pushing her gently onto her side, "Érzsebét, please say you're still here."

"I am sir," she wheezed, eyes dim.

"You… you sacrificed yourself for me? Just like that?"

"It's what I was created to do."

"But," his vision blurred with tears, "I don't want… I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, young master; I was created to serve you."

"I killed you," he sobbed, "I love you and I killed you."

"You didn't. I would have laid down my life regardless of what I was created for," she gave a weak smile, "you are special, my young prince… has been an honour to watch you grow into someone worthy… of becoming an emperor."

"I don't want to be emperor," he wailed, "I'd give it up right now if it'll save you!"

"It can't." Roderich took Érzsebét's hand in his and she flexed her fingers ever so slightly. "Don't forget me."

"I can't." He knew there were people watching, but he didn't care. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead.

When he pulled away, her eyes were extinguished.

…

It had been six months now.

Six months since that assassin had tried to kill him. Six months of desperately trying to piece his beloved back together.

Roderich stared blankly at his piano, fingers trembling over the eyes. The mechanic's words lingered in his ears.

Érzsebét could not be fixed.

He had refused to believe it, but in his heart he knew it was true. No one could survive a blast like that. Érzsebét was gone forever.

His eyes stung as tears began to form. He'd been crying on and off for weeks now. Every time he thought they'd finally dried up for good, they started again.

He still hadn't let them take Érzsebét's body away. Ever since the night she died, her remains had lain on his bed, tucked under the covers and hiding her broken torso. Her rest rested on the pillows and her arms lay on top of the blankets, as if she was simply sleeping, and none of the horrors she'd faced were real. Roderich himself slept on the floor.

His fingers still hung above the keys, frozen in grief. He willed them to move, but didn't know why he was bothering. His spirit to play was gone.

The music had died with Érzsebét.