Duchess Margareta von Kirsch was a very proper and traditional German noble. Born in Berlin to the Beilschmidt family while they were still imprinting their name into German society. She married young and was swept away by her older husband to one of his many estates in West Pomerania. There she lived a wild and lavish life, surrounding herself with all of life's greatest luxuries. She spent her days attending a variety of banquets, balls, concerts, and anything where she could mingle with her fellow ladies of the high society. She was the first to hear of any scandals or atrocities of the neighbors, and was the first to spread it.
While her lavish life style did diminish this last decade upon the passing of her husband, she still held onto her love of parties and thirsted for new stories and new scandals. Once a year, she would host her own ball. She invited only those of whom she thought the most deserving. This ranged from the highest of German (specifically Prussian) society, to the lower ranked officials who had caught her sharp eye. She'd wave away those who she judged boring or uninteresting, watching and waiting for new surprises to spring up from the rising generations.
Many thought it a high honor to receive an invitation to her event. It seemed that when one caught the eye of the Duchess von Kirsch, one caught the eye of society. There were multitudes of rumors of young men and women soon stumbling upon good fortune and status after impressing the Duchess. Whether that was true or not, no one really knew.
But if there was one thing that Elizaveta knew for certain, it was that no simple, Hungarian maid girl was ever going to impress anybody. Especially this von Kirsch woman. Not that she particularly wanted to.
She could feel the heat of the blush forming on her cheeks, but was unsure whether or not it was visible from underneath the liberal amount of white powder and cosmetics pasted onto her face.
"Roderich?" she whispered nervously. "Are you sure I should be here?"
While she didn't raise her gaze to meet his, she could still imagine those kind, violet eyes looking upon her, accompanied by a small, but encouraging smile upon his lips.
"Of course. Why wouldn't you be? I have been invited by my great-aunt and you are here with me as my guest."
Eliza's shoulders stiffened nervously, however the movement was uncomfortable in the large, but restraining ball gown that she currently wore. She wasn't sure if her inability to breathe was due to her tight corset or because of her nerves.
"But I'm just servant! What would the people here think of you if they knew that you brought the woman who cleans your house?"
Roderich placed a hand around her waist, squeezing gently. Then, without skipping a beat, smiled reassuringly and answered, "They'd think I was the luckiest man alive."
Eliza was pretty sure her blush could be seen now.
Clasping her hand in his and lifting it up properly, the Austrian gracefully began to lead Eliza through the grandeur ballroom. Immediately, she noticed the magical, harmonious music that seemed to envelope the room. The sparkling crystals of the chandeliers reflecting off the golden and ornate designs and columns on the walls. The stark candle light seemed to dispel the darkness of the evening which attempted to enter from the grand, ceiling-high windows at the outer end of the hall. Eliza tried her best not to scrunch her nose as the wave of perfume assaulted her nostrils.
The Hungarian scanned the crowds of people around her. She had never seen so many spectacular men and women in her life. All were of a wide variety of ages, dressed in the finest of clothing. Many men wore their officers uniform, proudly puffing out their chests while eagerly regaling the women of tales of their many adventures and heroic feats. While the women appeared similar to dolls or mannequins with their impossibly small waists and bulging waists and bosoms. Giant regal gowns, each one seemingly more outrageous and impracticable than the next. Porcelain-white skin that had quite possibly never seen the light of day, and tall, tall hair. Eliza wondered how many of these women could keep their necks straight with the weight of their wigs.
Servants weaved skillfully between the men and women, making sure to offer horderves or beverages upon balanced trays for their lady's guests.
Off towards the sides, groups of men and women gathered together, animatedly speaking and gossiping with one another while casting both admiring and judgmental looks across the room. In the center Eliza marveled at the beautiful dance being preformed. She wondered how the participants could time themselves to not only match the music, but match each others' movements as they danced both as one single entity, and as partners.
It amazed the woman to think that these people could preform such graceful, synchronized movements, when she knew that they most undoubtedly couldn't preform the simplest of chores.
Deep in her thoughts, Elizaveta failed to realize that she and Roderich had stopped and he had begun to speak with another. It was a small tug of her hand that finally snapped her attention back onto the Austrian. He stared at her with a slightly surprised yet tranquil expression. However, if she hadn't have known the man her whole life, she would not have noticed the prodding look in his eyes.
"Elizaveta." he said coolly, motioning his free hand before him. "This is Duchess von Kirsch of Eastern Pomerania. Our hostess for tonight and my great-aunt."
A bit shell-shocked by the suddenness, Eliza's fist reaction was to shake the woman's hand. But thank goodness her hand was still firmly held in Roderich's grip. Hesitating for a brief second, the Hungarian quickly preformed an awkward curtsy and muttered a polite greeting. She tried smiling coolly like Roderich had done, but she wasn't sure how well she had succeeded. Judging by the hard, stern look in the woman's eyes, Eliza guessed not very well.
For the first time in her life, Elizaveta wanted to curse Roderich and his family for allowing her to disregard preforming the basic formalities of higher society with them.
The German woman was quick to finish her examination of the Hungarian with her eyes and eagerly turned back to Roderich, commenting on how handsome he had become over the years and inquiring of his successes. Eliza ignored the conversation, instead, taking in the woman's appearance.
She was incredibly short, having probably been a beautiful and petite woman in her young age, however, it was impossible to tell now with how wide and stout she currently was. The lines upon her face indicated that she was well passed middle-aged, but attempted at hiding it with layers of powder and cosmetics. Her giant red lips puffed out unnecessarily and double chin shook as she spoke. She reeked of perfume and wore an enormous wig, sprouting with rows of golden curls and bows. Her dress made it appear as if she dressed as if she were still a young maiden, making her look more unnatural than usual. Her powdered face was nearly chalk white, which made her fat, rosy cheeks stand out all the more. Like giant cherries.
Eliza wondered why anyone would want to impress the woman anyways.
Once over with the formalities, both Roderich and Elizaveta said their farewells and the Austrian calmly led Elizaveta away, allowing his aunt to then begin eagerly examining the next nobles hovering to speak with her.
"See. Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Roderich asked, smiling.
"Are you kidding me?" Eliza huffed. "She looked at me like I was nothing but a stray dog!"
"No no. I'm sure you misread her. The Duchess hides her thoughts very well. I'm sure she loves you. "
Eliza took a side glance at the woman. Her dark eyes were bright with enthusiasm and amusement as she chatted energetically with a young officer.
Yeah, she seems to be doing a stellar job at hiding her emotions.
"Okay. You made your appearance known. Can we go now?"
Roderich frowned down at her. " But we only just arrived, Elizaveta. Do you really feel that uncomfortable?"
The woman sighed, looking away. Normally she would voice her opinion to her friend in a heartbeat, but...she knew that Roderich had been looking forward to this night for a while now. The man wasn't huge into social gatherings, so he made little effort to attend many. But when he did attend, he found them a real treat. They seemed to rejuvenate the aristocrat. Besides, they had already traveled so far to get here.
Taking in an extra deep breath due to the corset, Eliza shook her head. "No. Never mind, I want to stay."
The aristocrat's grateful smile soon returned. The curl at the top of his head bobbing as he nodded gratefully.
"I understand this is all new for you, but just give it some time. I'm sure you'll really enjoy it."
Eliza nodded back, feigning a smile. She'd give it time like he suggested, but she doubted that her opinion would change.
The night moved on with Eliza finding her admist several different crowds of wealthy noblemen and women. She had attempted to get involved in the conversation once or twice, but after stumbling over her formalities and her french, along with just not understanding the conventional complaints and murmurings of the high classes, she gave up. Plus, she couldn't stand the capricious looks they would give her.
She opted to remain quiet and let Roderich amuse himself in conversation. Instead, she sought to relieve some boredom by shifting her attention towards the remaining occupants of the room. She'd silently gawk at their superfluous outfits and behaviors. She wasn't sure how many times she had rolled her eyes that night.
It was while her gaze scanned through the ballroom's occupants that her eyes suddenly landed on a familiar face.
All the way on the other side of the room, wearing that trademark grin that she'd recognize anywhere, stood Gilbert.
Like many others present, he was clad in his Prussian-blue officer's dress uniform. He stood tall and regal, yet was able to appear casual at the same time. He stood among several other Prussian officers, chatting lively between sips of a drink clutched in one hand.
Suddenly no one else in the room seemed even remotely interesting. Her eyes were glued onto Gilbert, carefully taking in his demeanor.
He obviously hadn't noticed her yet. If he had, she was positive the man would have obnoxiously made himself known to them.
Elizaveta wondered why she was so surprised to see the Prussian here. The Duchess was Gil's relative too, after all. Besides, being a direct heir to the Beilschmidt line, she'd assume that he did have even more of an obligation to attend than Roderich did.
The longer Eliza observed her friend, the more concerned she became. She had only ever known Gilbert to be...well, Gilbert. That meant loud, eccentric, overbearing, irritating, idiotic- she could go on for days-, but this was a version of her friend she had yet to really see. He still spoke, laughed, and grinned, but it was contained. His usually mussed hair was nicely combed through and he held himself with an air of dignity. Wearing his pristine and (admittedly) stately uniform, head high, back straight, one arm held to the small of his back and the other holding his glass of wine. Eliza couldn't stop her spirits from sinking even further at the display. Even that obnoxious, beastly man fit perfectly- if not exceptionally- into this picture of Europe's highest societies!
Despite being surrounded by people (and at the side of one of her dearest friends), Eliza had never felt so inferior and so alone. She felt herself withdraw even further into herself.
A hand on her shoulder suddenly drew her attention away from her gloomy thoughts and observation of the Prussian.
Roderich's eyes looked at her concernedly from behind his glasses.
"Everything alright, Elizaveta?"
"Yep. Everything's great." she answered immediately, regretting the sharp bite of her tone.
Roderich obviously noticed the tension in her posture. He bit his lip in thought before his face suddenly brightened. Eagerly, the young man grabbed her hand and led her a few steps away from the group.
"Come. Dance with me."
The Austrian's attempt to cheer her up didn't go by her unnoticed, however, his offer only made her tense up even more.
"What? Roderich, I can't dance!" she countered hurriedly, nervously looking about to make sure her confession went unheard.
But the man was undeterred, giving her a reassuring smile.
"It's nothing to fret about, Eliza. All you need to do is follow my lead. You'll do just fine."
"But-!"
"Like I said, I'll be leading. You just need move with me."
Eliza swallowed, but allowed Roderich to pull her into the pool of nobles congregated in the center of the hall. Gracefully, Roderich spun around and snatched up both her hands in his. The music started up again too soon and Eliza could barely keep eye contact with the aristocrat with how nervous and terrified she had become at that moment.
Thankfully, the dance started slow. Starting with a step here and a step there. Eliza's gaze continuously shifted from her partner's feet and to his arms, which she held onto like a lifeline as she mimicked his movements. It was slow and simple. Just back and forth. Back and forth. She was still a bit stiff, but she could do this.
And then suddenly, he released one of her hands, gracefully stepping back so that their connected arms extended while his free arm folded behind his back. Eliza watched him confusedly, standing as still as a board until Roderich stepped back towards her and reclaimed his usual grip.
And it all got worse from there.
Eliza was completely unable to read Roderich's movements once he broke the initial pattern. However, rather than continuing to stand as stiff as a corpse (and thereby standing out from her rhythmic neighbors like the uncultured peasant she was) she hastily took her own heavy steps in attempt to follow her partner. Several times she misread a turn or overtook a step, resulting in either bumping roughly into the Austrian's body, jerking his arms, or stepping on the man's feet.
The poor man tried to keep a straight face, though Eliza could easily read the unease marking his face.
And then he winced painfully as the Hungarian accidentally kicked him in the shin.
"Sorry." she muttered regrettably for what seemed like the hundredth time. Heat radiated off her cheeks.
Roderich just shook his head impassively, waving off the blight and biting his lip to prevent himself from actually commenting.
Once the steps came to a slow crawl, Eliza's distressed gaze was somehow pulled back to the crowd beyond the dance. Her heart leaped into her throat when her eyes connect with red. The Prussian watched her carefully, an amused grin pasted to his face.
Her face scrunched up irritably and she immediately turned her attention back to her feet. Her grip on Roderich tightened and her stomach churned. If her face hadn't already reached the maximum redness for the evening, it most certainly did now.
Great! Just great! Gilbert was watching her as she struggled to dance! He must be snickering with every wrong step she takes!
Anger and embarrassment swelled in her breast. She couldn't stand to even think about what that jerk would do after this dance. Couldn't stand those mocking words and that gloating tone that she just knew she'd be hearing afterward.
Eliza's lips twitched angrily as she swore silently that -fancy gathering or not- she'd sock the man in the jaw if he spoke even one word to her that night. After this humiliation, she wouldn't be able to handle Gilbert's attitude.
After what seemed like hours had passed, the dance finally came to an end. The young couple were only too quick to leave the cluster of dancers. Eliza huffed angrily at the floor as Roderich followed stiffly after her. He tried to cheer her up, telling her not to worry and that she did great for her first time. But the Hungarian wouldn't have it.
Her insides screamed for her to leave at that very moment. She wanted nothing more than to just scream her frustration into the sky and stomp angrily away from this den of aristocratic devils. But she just managed to hold it in. Eliza told herself it was for Roderich's sake.
Putting on a fake smile, the Hungarian meekly encouraged her friend to enjoy another dance. Roderich, at least, deserved to enjoy himself here. Eliza wanted him to be able to enjoy the ball by dancing with someone who could actually dance.
Roderich hesitated at first, but it didn't take too much more insistence before he obliged.
Eliza watched as the Austrian graciously asked another young, elegant dame to join him for the next dance. Elizaveta felt a sudden weight in her chest once the man took the woman's hand and led her away gracefully. Despite the woman's constricted waist and ginormous hoop skirt beneath her petticoat, she flew across the floor as smoothly as a butterfly. Though the servant really shouldn't be too surprised anymore. Grace seemed to be an innate trait carried through these noble bloodlines.
Alone and off to the outskirts of the room, the Hungarian watched the two dance. The longer she watched, the more distressed she became.
Why was she even here again? Despite Roderich's words, she knew she didn't belong here.
She never would.
Her chest tightened and it suddenly became harder to breathe. Eliza was sure it was just the corset causing her to take in deep, wet breaths. She also blamed the corset for the tears forming in her eyes.
Finally, not being able to take it anymore, Eliza turned away sharply and made her way towards the giant doors.
She needed to leave. She needed to get some fresh air, or at least get away from all these people. She needed to get away from all these constant reminders of who she wasn't.
Elizaveta made it half way across the room before a hand suddenly shot out from behind and grabbed hold of her upper arm and stopping her short. Before the irritated Hungarian could rip her arm from the stranger's firm hold, she was spun around. One strong hand gently wrapped around her waist, while the one on her arm slid down until they were interlocking fingers together.
Eliza quickly blinked away her tears. She could hardly recognize that familiar, lean, muscular, blue form of her friend before she was being swept in circles across the dance floor. She'd forever deny the shocked screech that escaped her lips.
Gilbert laughed, but continued to lead her in a swift dance. At one point he let her go of her waist and allowed her to twirl her body, relying on nothing but his support to keep from falling. When Gilbert pulled her back in, she nearly crashed into his chest. But the Prussian was light on his feet and kept his feet moving, even when Eliza's couldn't seem to keep up.
"Just relax." Gilbert coached her placidly. "Let your body feel the music. Follow my steps. I got you."
Eliza's face must have reddened further. She tried to listen to his words, but her body remained stiff and clumsy. Her feet stumbled over the Prussian's. An apology shot to her lips, but never actually left when she realized that the interruption hadn't even phased Gilbert. He continued, smiling and swaying as if nothing had happened.
"Like I said, just relax."
"I-I can't, Gilbert!"
"Of course you can! You just need to-" Gilbert's words paused but his eyes suddenly brightened as an idea came to him.
"It's simple." he started again, his smile growing. "You know how to fence. Decently, at least. Think of it as that. Think of this as a match. You need to keep in step with your opponent. Don't let your eyes determine how you step. Just keep in line with me. I know you can do it. I've seen it a dozen times."
Eliza was still tense and dubious of this new advice, and yet... she supposed she understood.
Gilbert slowed his steps, allowing her time to unwind and get a feel for the movements. He continued to step in a predictable manner until the Hungarian began to carefully match him. Then gradually, he stepped it up, turning the girl again and quickening his pace.
Eliza was still far from perfect, missing a step here and there, especially when she would unconsciously look to the floor to gauge her steps. However, Gilbert's advice was actually working. She was much more graceful than before and wasn't constantly stumbling in his grasp. A weak smile may have started to form itself on the Hungarian's lips.
Then in a flash, the couple were soaring across the dance floor, much like they had at the beginning. Eliza squawked at the sudden change of pace but Gilbert's hold remained firm and somehow her feet were able to keep pace.
"Remember to expect the unexpected!" Gilbert laughed as he swung her again.
Elizaveta was completely oblivious of the dozens of pairs of eyes upon them. She didn't notice how blatantly the independent couple stood out from the clustered procession of dancers. She didn't notice the shocked and appalled looks that their interruption had brought. Neither did she notice the amused and impressed stares from others. No, she didn't notice any of that. All she could see at that moment was Gilbert.
When the Prussian suddenly lifted her from the floor to once again be swung around, Eliza couldn't help but laugh. When her feet touched the ground again, her eyes jumped up to meet Gilbert's happy grin, which matched her own. The suffocating darkness of inferiority and degradation that had been pressing down on her that evening had been momentarily forgotten.
Upon noticing her friend's smile, Eliza had a startling epiphany. The image of the man earlier when she had first noticed the Prussian's presence came to mind. She had been far away at the time, though she could still effortlessly see the stark difference in the man's expression. She could now tell that his earlier smile- while he was socializing with other members of this party- had been nothing but a mask; something to simply wear for the occasion. It was the wide, toothy smile that she saw now that was real. It was the smile that she had grown up seeing.
"You-" she began, her smile fading slightly but not disappearing. "You don't like these sort of events, do you?"
Gilbert snorted. "Does any of this look like my kind of thing?"
Eliza smiled sheepishly, a little embarrassed that she should have already known better.
Gilbert frowned slightly at her apparent guilt.
"Well," he started again, voice a tad quieter. "I don't hate them, exactly. I like socializing and swapping stories. Heck, even the gossip is fun to listen to from time to time if you find the right people. The food is good (though you're never given quite enough) and I'm a fan of the alcohol. But it's all just a bit suffocating."
Gilbert didn't need to elaborate more for Eliza to understand. The Gilbert she had seen here earlier wasn't the real Gilbert. The real Gilbert was that loud-mouthed, boastful, eccentric man who liked to prove everyone wrong and didn't care if he offended anyone in the process. But here- in this world- the real Gilbert had to be suppressed.
It almost surprised Eliza that Gil would subject himself to something like this. The man she'd known for these 21 years would rebel against rules and regulations. But when the navy blue of his uniform caught her eye, she was quickly reminded why this was the case.
Gilbert was a soldier. Not only a soldier, but a Beilschmidt, and a Prussian. This required strict discipline and proper behavior. Here, within the public eye, he served as a representative of his noble household and country. It was his birthright. It was just as much a part of him as his boisterous ego was.
Eliza wasn't sure she'd consider his titles as a gift or a curse. But she supposed, given the choice, Gilbert wouldn't want it any other way. He took too much pride in his position.
And all that aside...Gilbert's father would kill him if he didn't behave himself.
"Well, are you having fun here?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to the side.
Gilbert immediately smiled, continuing to lead them in the dance.
"I am now."
Eliza wasn't sure why that made her so happy.
By the end of the second song, their dancing had slowed dramatically, reverting to stepping rhythmically in a circle.
"I can't even begin to imagine what my cousin had to do to get you here." Gilbert smirked, " And dressed like this no less. Truth be told, it doesn't suit you."
Eliza glanced away, suddenly embarrassed again. While she agreed with him, she had also been the one to agree to dress up. She often complained about the copious make-up, the uncomfortable clothing, and the impractical hair-dos, and it all made her feel so uncomfortable dressed like this. But...but there was a small part of her had been secretly ecstatic to play dress up; to play the part of a beautiful, queenly woman. But with Gilbert – the friend she hunted and wrestled with- she felt embarrassed, ashamed even. As a child she had exclusively dressed as a boy (and had even convinced the Prussian and herself that she was a boy), and though she long embraced the girl within her, she felt like she had a sort of obligation to Gilbert to remain that rambunctious tomboy he had grown up with.
"I guess I just wanted to try something new." Eliza answered impassively.
She expected the Prussian's face to crinkle in disgust, then continue to announce how she should have stayed at home. She expected him to murmur about how ridiculous she must look in such a costume.
But instead, Gilbert just nodded in understanding.
Eliza wasn't sure what to expect after that.
A moment passed before the man's face brightened, obviously struck by an idea.
"Hey, Eliza. What would you say about ditching this place and doing something fun?"
Elizaveta raised a brow, watching her friend questioningly.
"Like what? We're out in the middle of the Pomeranian country side in the middle of the night. We're stuck here until morning at least."
"You doubt my resourcefulness." Gilbert clicked before a proud grin took to his lips. "You see, the Duchess is rather fond of her dear nephew Gilbert. I'm sure she'd be willing to accommodate."
Eliza frowned, shooting him a stare, half-disapproving and half questioning.
"And what do you have in mind?"
"Night time horse back riding?"
Eliza couldn't stifle a laugh.
"Gilbert, isn't that a tad dangerous?"
His eyes sparkled mischievously.
"Of course."
Eliza smiled guiltily. Her gaze screened over the extravagant hall and its equally extravagant occupants before landing back on Gilbert.
She supposed she was done being a lady for the night.
o00o00o00o
Eliza's eyes cracked open slowly. Her lids were heavy and stiff. Groggily, she ran a hand over her face to wipe away the gunk crusted over her eyes- a result of crying in her sleep. Once her vision cleared she noticed the serene, slumbering face of her husband resting beside her. She smiled endearingly, slowly drawing a finger to play with the chestnut cowlick poking from his sleep-worn hair. She was always amazed at how Roderich looked so much younger when he slept. When his face was free from both stress and his spectacles, and when his usually meticulously styled hair fell wildly over his forehead.
Her love filled smile suddenly fell after a moment as she was struck with the suffocating pain of loss that she'd come to know so well. She gently caressed her husband's cheek, careful not to wake the aristocrat up so early, before sitting up from bed. She inched her legs out from the covers, placing her bare feet upon the cold floor. She shivered, making a mental note to have the fires stoked earlier with the steady approach of the winter months.
She stared blankly out the window. The sky shone a dark blue. Still an hour or so before dawn.
A tear nearly escaped without permission and she quickly blinked it away.
She'd dreamed about him again.
The longer she stared out the window at the dark Austrian country side, the more her dream came back to her. She remembered it almost too vividly. That night at the ball. That night several years ago when her biggest fear in life was simply fitting in. At the time, she'd never have imagined a future like this. A future where she was a lady. A future where she was a legitimate part of society. A future where she would never see Gilbert again.
Eliza could honestly admit that the Prussian had surprised her that night. Not once did the man brag to her about his superiority, her displacement, nor did he even once put her down. Instead, he had made her feel special. He had made her feel like the lady that she had secretly longed to be. In return, Eliza had always felt so guilty for discrediting Gilbert like that. Now that guilt had festered into something much worse; something that would never heal. She'd never have the chance to apologize for assuming the worst from Gilbert, nor would she get the chance to thank him for practically saving her that night.
Eliza sighed deeply, shaking her head disparagingly.
Every now and then, she'd wake up thinking about Gilbert. Then, every time without fail, the man would continue to haunt her throughout the entire day. No matter what she did, if the stage of her mind was left unattended for even one second, it was immediately filled by that audacious man! It was insured that the day would be a long and dark one. It was days like this that made her temporarily forget about the happiness she and her husband had in this new life together.
Raising herself from the bed, she started towards the wardrobe for her work clothes. Despite being married and thus possessing a status and her own servants, Eliza insisted that she still assist in the cleaning of her own manor. Besides, what else would she do with her day? Old habits died hard. She wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now anyways. The sooner she starts busying herself, the sooner she could clear her thoughts.
The sun hadn't even risen, and yet, Eliza already wished for the day to end.
o00o00o00o
Just as Elizaveta expected, Gilbert's ghost followed her all day long. He wasn't with her the whole time, however. Similar to the living version of the man, Eliza would stave him off, only for him to reappear at the most random, and usually most unwelcome moments.
Eliza had started the morning chores with the fireplaces. Tying her long chestnut hair back and covering her mouth and nose with an old piece of linen, she began to dig into the fire pit. Careful, yet well practiced hands artfully shifted the piles of white ash and charred clumps of charcoal from the pit and to a large sheet placed on the floor. When her hand brushed against a piece of charcoal the thickness of her finger, she gave pause. Meticulously, she rolled the charcoal stick over her fingers, watching as it left behind a thick layer of black soot over her skin.
Without even thinking, she brought the edge of the stick to the red brick edging of the fireplace and began sketching. A smile flitted over her lips for a moment as she drew three familiar stick figures. They weren't very good. In fact, Eliza's drawings have probably looked the same since she was 10. But these were three figures she was used to drawing.
One had glasses. Another long hair. And the last...wild hair and a smile that took up half of the figure's face.
'You didn't capture my beauty at all!'
Eliza's hand froze.
She stared at the charcoal figure before her. She didn't even realize when her hand had started shaking.
'This is how you capture awesome!'
Eliza didn't need to turn her head for her to envision a young boy seated in the spot next to her. Taking an equally thick piece of charcoal, he began drawing next to her. His eyes suddenly scrunched up and his tongue peeked out from the side of his mouth-as it often did when he was focused.
'There! See! Isn't it perfect?'
'It looks like you just attacked the brick with a piece of charcoal.' Eliza deadpanned while glancing over her friend's shoulder.
His face scrunched in annoyance.
'Nein. You just can't see beauty when it's right in front of you.'
Eliza made a face to match his. 'Can too!'
The boy snorted, turning enough to look at the young Hungarian over his shoulder.
'Right. And if you did, you wouldn't be dressing in these boy's clothing all the time.' He swatted at the loose pair of trousers she wore for emphasis.
Eliza wasn't sure why she suddenly became so offensive. Her voice rose and she placed her soot stained hands on her hips. 'What does that have to do with anything!?"
Ignoring the question entirely, he suddenly swung around to face Eliza. Before the Hungarian had even realized what had happened, she was sporting a messy gray mustache over her top lip.
She was so stunned by the act that she couldn't speak. Instead she brought a hand to her lip and stared at the smudge it left on her fingers.
'If you want to be a man so badly, you'll need some proper facial hair!' he laughed, still holding the offending stick of charcoal in his hand.
Eliza screeched.
'You're so dead, Gilbert!'
The sudden snap of the charcoal roused the woman from her thoughts.
Not even bothering to look back down at the tool in her hand, she threw the pieces into the pile of ash. She quickly emptied the remainder of the soot and debris from the fireplace. When she stood to remove the large, dirty bundle from the room, she rubbed her foot along the surface of the bricks and left. She didn't bother glancing at the smudged drawing again.
It happened again while she was dusting. She had reeled in her mind for a while, preoccupying herself by creating a mental list of chores and errands to run. She then kept her focus on the furniture that she dusted by either counting the stitches along the seams, or the seconds it took to clean given item. When she started dusting the piano, she paused for a moment to examine the instrument. She ran her hands unceremoniously over the ivory keys, wishing for not the first time that she could create a melody as effortlessly as her husband could (though she knew she'd never have the patience to actually learn).
The piano was still as regal, still as impressive as it was the day it first arrived. She had been young then. She couldn't remember how young. However, she did remember the curious look on Roderich's face when his father ushered in a team of men into the parlor, constructing the piano in the room piece by piece. The Austrian had been a bag of all sorts of emotions that day, feeling both wary and ecstatic at this new instrument replacing the beloved harpsichord* that he had grown up playing. The piano wasn't that popular- still a new invention really. But Johann Edelstein had been positive that this instrument would be revolutionary! 'All of the greats would be playing one of these someday!'
Roderich had convinced himself of this after no more than 15 minutes tapping on the ivory keys. The piano had been Eliza's rival ever since.
Eliza chuckled to herself at the dozens and dozens of memories surrounding the piano. That was, until a particular memory gave her pause.
She'd remembered walking through the house, working on her daily chores while she listened to the beautiful melody of Roderich's playing sweep over the house. It was something that occurred quite often and had become routine in her life here. That day, however, the melody suddenly cut short. She'd paused in her chores, hearing the notes pick up again before cutting off again in a myriad of harsh notes. Voices picked up, occasionally drowned out with the mashing of random keys.
Curiosity peeked, Eliza started down the stairs towards the parlor. The sound of the voices and the cacophony of unsynchronized notes becoming clearer as she approached.
"What are you doing? Keep playing, Roddy!"
"I told you to get out of here! You are disrupting my practice!"
"And you're disrupting my recital! Now do what you're good for and play!"
"I refuse too indulge your idiocy."
When Eliza entered the room, she wasn't surprised to see the pouting Austrian, sitting rigidly at the piano, while he cousin danced around the piano with a broom stick in his arms.
"Ah, Eliza! Just in time to see my wonderful performance! Come, take a seat!"
Forgoing Roderich's playing, the Prussian grasped the broom as if it were a guitar, then veraciously strumming the imaginary strings. The teen himself provided the notes to his instrument.
Both Roderich and Eliza cringed at Gilbert's harsh voice, Roderich looking positively disgusted. Without waiting for the Prussian to stop, he turned towards Eliza, eyes locking with hers before deadpanning, "He's an idiot."
Eliza would never counter that statement.
Hands slammed into the keys and Eliza stood up, unceremoniously leaving the parlor before she had finished her job. One of the maids could finish it, she decided. She needed to find a place without Gilbert.
But Gilbert's presence was everywhere throughout the property.
The couch where she had found Gilbert lying in a zombie-like daze. He had confessed drowsily that he had been up for two days straight and was so tired that he wasn't able to actually fall asleep. Eliza had offered to sing him a lullaby to sooth his shot nerves and help him rest, which he readily agreed to. But she had sung him a rather cynical song instead; an old Hungarian song surrounded by legends and rumors of death.
"Do you want me rest forever?!"
Eliza took to the outdoors, grabbing her coat and telling her husband that she needed fresh air. She started for the stables. The horses could use some exercise anyways.
Eliza shot through the Austrian country side. The frigid air stung at her cheeks and seeped through the edges of her coat and making her shiver. But it felt refreshing- exhilarating even. The rush almost made her forget about the ghost stalking her. But Gilbert had a way of sneaking up on her.
He was there when she passed by the resident lake. A very thin layer of ice floated on the top, created from the chill of the frozen night. It reminded Eliza of how they used to play atop of the frozen lake when they were younger. Gilbert loved playing soldier, and found the idea of playing on a frozen lake to be thrilling. He didn't think of it that way so much once he had broken through the ice and nearly drowned.
He was there again when Eliza's horse nearly stumbled over a fallen branch, jerking the Hungarian forward dangerously. Her heart jumped fearfully, but her grip, thankfully, remained firm and she was able to right herself in the saddle. Unlike the time she had been thrown from the saddle, ripping her shirt upon the rough landing. Gilbert had turned beet red before removing his own shirt and tossing it to her to wear until the returned home.
He was also there when she passed by the forest. There were too many of him to count with how often the two had spent there. He'd hunt with her there every summer. It was some of the only times the Hungarian could treat herself to the activity, seeing as Roderich wouldn't come within 5 ft of a weapon. Elizaveta suddenly regretted that one summer she had protested Gilbert's hunting propositions in her attempt to be more "womanly", despite how she trembled while doing the chores because of her immense desire to go.
There wasn't much of a reason to go now anyways.
She didn't know how long she had been out, but according to the sun that was high in the sky by the time she rode back to the stables, she'd been out for a few hours at least. Though it seemed like longer. This day was a living hell and it wasn't even noon yet.
Eliza was relieved that the first face she saw after entering the house was that of her husband's. He looked up from the dough he'd been pounding, eyes brightening upon seeing his wife.
"You were out for a while. Did you enjoy your ride?"
The smile that took her lips felt strained, but it was genuine. "It-it was alright."
Roderich frowned, immediately sensing the gloom hovering over the Hungarian. He set aside the pastry he had been working on and approached Elizaveta, offering his comforting presence but careful not to touch her with his flour-covered fingers.
"Eliza? Is there something wrong?"
The Hungarian bit her lip, contemplating whether or not to admit to Roderich the truth. She was sure that he felt the same sorrow that she felt, and yet she worried that she may be over-exaggerating Gilbert's death. It had been over a year since his passing, and even longer since they had even see him last.
"No." Eliza decided not to bother him with her troubles. "Just having a long day."
Roderich didn't seem convinced though he accepted her answer. "Why don't you help me with these pastries, then. It'll help you pass the time."
Eliza smiled gratefully, leaning up to Roderich before planting a kiss on his lips.
"That'd be wonderful. Thank you."
o00o00o00o
If Eliza had thought that the day couldn't get much worse than it'd been that morning, then she only had to wait until that late afternoon before she was proven wrong. Thankfully she had been provided a few hours reverie from Gilbert's gloom, otherwise she would have snapped at this next invasion of her peace.
And she almost did.
It started with a startled cry, causing the couple to stop abruptly in their dining. A second later, one of their maids rushed into the room, face white and hands clutching the edges of her apron nervously.
"My Lord! My Lady!" she gasped, coming to a shaky stop in the doorway.
Roderich immediately straightened, while Eliza walked swiftly towards the older woman. While the Hungarian was worried, she was able to remain calm enough, giving the servant something to anchor herself to.
"Calm down." she stated firmly but warmly, providing a hand to the woman which she immediately took. "What is it? What's wrong?" Roderich was suddenly behind Eliza, laying his hand on his wife's shoulder protectively.
"Ou-outside! Soldiers! Th-they're approaching the manor!"
Eliza's brows knitted and she turned to look at he husband over her shoulder. His face appeared just as grave as she suspected his own were. He shot his wife a quick, worried look before pushing past the two women, who were quick to follow.
"Austrian I hope?" he asked without looking back.
Eliza's heart jumped at the prospect. While the arrival of any soldiers couldn't be good, the presence of enemy soldiers could be disastrous. With how close they were to the border, it was always a possibility...but the fighting had always been focused towards Silesia.
"I-I think so." the maid answered timidly. Her hesitation did little to calm the Hungarian's nerves, and from Roderich's rigid posture, she could tell he felt the same.
While it only took the trio 10 seconds or so to reach the entrance, it felt to Eliza as if time had slowed with this possibility of a threat. Her heart beating 10 times faster than normal did not help.
A few other servants wavered by the door, staring nervously out the windows at the white uniforms filling the Edelstein manor courtyard.
Eliza's heart may have slowed just a tad at the confirmation of the uniforms, but it wasn't much. Any soldier to her, especially now, in this weary, long, drawn-out war meant trouble.
Roderich stood at the door, eyes staring sternly beyond the windows.
"Elizaveta," he started, not taking his eyes off the scene laid out before him. She could tell he was nervous, but he played it cool. "stay here. I'll see what they want."
Eliza shot forward, mouth open ready to protest, but was too slow as Roderich opened and disappeared behind the door.
The woman fought with herself momentarily, gaze locked onto the door, deciding whether or not follow Roderich out or not. She told herself that he could deal with it. Roderich was by no means a weak man. Sure, he wasn't strong in the ways that Eliza and Gilbert were (or had been...), but he had a powerful intellect, a sharp intuition, and a strong will.
But... Eliza wasn't just going to sit back and wait. Austrian soldiers or not, she had heard of plenty of atrocities caused by men during war, and she would not stand by and wait and hope that everything would be okay! Not again!
Spinning on her heels, Eliza shot passed the servants, causing a few to gasp in surprise as they watched their Lady disappear into the parlor. She grabbed the first weapon that she could think of, an old Edelstein family dagger situated over the mantel. It wasn't the sharpest blade, having dulled with age and disuse, but it would suffice for now. She made haste to hide the blade in the folds of her dress before once again running to the door and stepping outside. Sweat was already beading her forehead and she may have been breathing harder than she should have.
Roderich was several feet away from the porch, standing to his full height in a heated discussion with one of the soldiers. Judging from his uniform, he must have been a higher rank, though Eliza couldn't be sure which. But the man stood taller than her husband, arms folded and chest puffed. His uniform did little to hide the muscles of his body. And here Roderich was, angrier than Eliza had seen him in years, arguing with the giant. Her heart actually fluttered by how attractive this fierce Roderich was, but she smothered it with the worry she felt for him instead.
It took a moment for Eliza to register what was being said over the racing beats of her heart and blood running in her ears.
"You have no right to be here! This is our land; our property!"
"Are you denying shelter to men of the Empress?" The soldier shot back, though strangely calmly. His only reaction to Roderich's words being a raising of a brow. " After we've sacrificed our lives so that you nobles could preserve this 'property' of yours? This could be considered an act of treason."
Roderich bit back a snarl, staring at the broad Austrian soldier standing before him.
"Are you kidding me?" she spat out, surprising both the soldier and her husband as she approached. She was casting a threatening look towards the man, while her grip remained on the hidden weapon.
"Elizaveta! What are you-" Roderich stuttered, trying his best to hide his panic. The soldier stared at her, his surprised expression still plastered to his face, though with how his mustache twitched upwards, he seemed rather impressed as well. It wasn't often that a woman spoke out against any man, let alone a high ranking soldier. Eliza, too, often forgot (perhaps purposely) of her "role" in society as a woman, which meant that she was supposed to stay meek and quiet. No way was she playing helpless when these soldiers were trespassing onto their property! "You can't threaten us with treason!"
The soldier still seemed rather intrigued by Elizaveta's outburst, but reigned himself in, smirking at her. "Feisty one, isn't she?" he started, turning back towards Roderich. "You best put a muzzle on that woman before she gets herself in trouble."
Roderich opened his mouth to retort, but the man was already speaking once again, face sobering. He continued as if Eliza had never interrupted.
"Refusing quarters to the soldiers of the Empress when requested is indeed a very serious infraction. I suggest that you rethink your answer."
Roderich took a nervous step back, but tried his best to reign in his emotions, which, from the very brief look he shot towards Eliza, were raving.
"You'll be pleased to hear that this won't be for long. We are in a rush to get somewhere, but these men are new recruits and mercenaries. We require lodgings and sustenance just for the night. We must all do are part in this conflict."
Roderich bit his lip before turning and stepping towards Eliza. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder before turning her away from the spectacle, muttering to her nervously.
"Listen, Eliza. We don't seem to have much of a choice."
"But Roderich, they're-"
"Men have been convicted for less! I could be indited if I step on the wrong feet! Wealth and status means nothing in war, especially this one."
"But you heard him! They're mercenaries!" she hissed, "As if soldiers weren't bad enough, mercenaries have no respect; no honor! Imagine what they could do here?"
"It's just one night. We can manage."
Eliza snorted, "You should know that one can do a lot of damage in less time."
Roderich sighed, shoulders falling and face suddenly looking a few years older. The fire raging inside Elizaveta seemed to burn out in that moment, the fight leaving her eyes at the sight of her husband. Her grip on the dagger loosened drastically.
Eliza took in a deep breath, closing her eyes and turning her gaze back to the rumbling courtyard. While the leader, along with some of his men stood straight and in formation, most of the soldiers began to wonder about, speaking loudly to one another and stretching their sore limbs from what must have been a long march. There were about 20 men or so. Just a single regiment then, Eliza supposed, trying to remember Gilbert's explanations of army organization and sizes.
Another deep breath and a resigned "What do you need me to do?"
"Release the entire staff for the rest of the day. It'd be best if we deal with them ourselves and not get more people involved. And..." Roderich paused, glancing down at where Eliza was still hiding her dagger. "Keep yourself armed. Though I'd suggest a better weapon than that." The Austrian dared give her an endearing smile at that moment, obviously entertained by his wife's tenaciousness.
"Okay." she grumbled, turning to return inside to relay her husband's instructions.
Eliza clenched one her fists angrily, wishing that she could allow that Austrian's mustache to become better acquainted with the appendage. How dare they intrude on her land like this? Intruding on the security that had fallen over the Edelstein manner! Reminding them once again of the realities and horrors of a nation at war!
The nightmarish day had only taken a turn for a worse. The sun was only just starting its decent from the sky, and they had nearly two dozen soldiers standing at their doorstep, waiting to indulge themselves on the Edelstein's wealth. She doubted she'd even be able to sleep that night.
"It's just one night. One short night. You can do this, Eliza" she whispered to herself nervusly, like a mantra, trying to calm herself as she returned inside.
However, despite that, she couldn't shake the cold shiver that ran down her spine at the feeling of being watched by several pairs of eyes.
Author notes:
My thanks go out to a reviewer who unknowingly gave me the idea for this chapter months ago by simply asking for and update on Elizaveta and Roderich. That simple question spurned this idea, and I've been dying to write it for months! And after a lot of stressing over the future developments for this story, I decided I'd push this chapter ahead of schedule.
I write a lot of dreams/memories/flash backs, don't I? They're just so fun to write and make loss just that more painful!... I am the worst!
The ball scene at the beginning originally written as a one shot after I read one too many books about high class life and parties (from a lot of classic Russian novels), but I figured it'd fit perfectly here. It's length has caused me to split the chapter though. So hopefully, the next update will be quicker than usual (though I doubt you can trust me with how often I say that...).
*Harpsichord: If you have listened to Prussia's song "Mein Gott", the instrument playing at the very beginning is a harpsichord. Pretty much one of the early versions of the piano. You have no idea how shocked I was when I learned of it and worried about the accuracy of Roderich playing a piano in the 18th century. You mean to tell me that the piano wasn't invented just after the wheel?
I recently went through like all the reviews given on this story and nearly started crying. Your amazing words and encouragement throughout this whole fic made me want to just put life on hold for a few months and just focus on finishing this fic! But...I'm trying to a responsible adult now, so I'm not supposed to do that. So here is my usual apology for my sparse updates and my thanks for reading! Please expand this bank of reviews I am collecting! I've only gotten this far because of those reviews!