- Chapter 1 – Letters -
AN: I don't pretend to be some genius on WW2 and the events around it, I just research it a little for my fics so for any historical inaccuracy I am sorry. ;3;
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January 24th 1944
Dear Elizaveta Héderváry...
Scratch that.
Hungary
No. Wrong feel.
Yo Lizzy
Far too informal.
Eliza...
Yes.
Eliza...
Now words, come on Gilbert, words.
How're things?
Not quite love letter material, but come on, he'd look ridiculous if he went into full blown soppy like half of the men in his squad. He wouldn't be seen that way, longing after a girl a thousand miles away. He wasn't a sap. He hadn't saved his heart for her, locked it away and sworn he'd go to her one day, when things were less complicated and they'd make up for all that lost time.
Except he had, and he would.
The western front is getting a bit sketchy, word is the allies are planning an attack on either the French or Spanish coast. But you probably already knew that.
The Squad I've been left charge of is a reasonable one, got a bit of experience under their belts, all fine strapping young Germans of course, they remind me of Lud before he managed to build up all those muscles and... I'm probably boring you.
Still not quite used to this new battle style. All this open trench unorganised stuff, kind of forgot what it was like. I mean it's all very similar to the way we used to fight back when, yeah.
I'm making a pigs ear of this letter, aren't i? I just wanted to write to tell you...
What? What did he want to tell her? He had to decide, he was running out of paper and he couldn't exactly scratch it out.
Just don't worry about me okay? I'll be fine.
Gilbert Beillschmidt
He folded the letter, sliding it away inside the cigarette case so he could give it to the messenger later before pulling out one of the slim fingers of tobacco and lighting it. There was a thunder above that for once wasn't the roar of planes or bombs.
"Looks like rain, Birdie."
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January 31st 1944
"Nurse Héderváry. Come on there are patients that need to be tended."
Elizaveta, the once great kingdom of Hungary, folded the telegram with a smile. He really never changed; always stumbling about like an idiot, not knowing what he was doing and never stopping to think about it either. A younger her could have mistaken his bumbling nature for purposeful patronisation and spite. In fact she was certain that's what she did, events casting a rift between the two of them that they were only just mending now.
She put the folded telegram in the pocket of her apron, hands moving up to her hair to adjust the pins and make sure they were still holding everything in place. She wasn't wearing it down any more, kept out of the way to make sure it didn't get in the way of her work. Every day more and more men came into the make shift ward. There were shell blast wounds, burns, gas victims, men who would never walk again, men who would never see again.
The stench was the worst.
Some of the wounded who came through hadn't been treated for weeks, and even when they had it was the make shift work of field medics, men who were barely trained. Gangrene was a recurring problem, filling the hospital with the smell of rotting flesh, which really added to the warm aroma of vomit too. Sometimes Elizaveta felt that she was working for a butcher, not a hospital.
There was one occasion where Hungary had come across a man who she could have mistaken for Austria, were it not for his deep brown eyes that matched his hair. He'd been submitted to the ward with heavy burn wounds after he'd attempted to save one of the soldiers under his charge from a burning tank, in his attempt to put out the fire on his comrade, his coat had come aflame. There were bandages all over his arms and a little on his face, but his hands. Elizaveta had to take a long break after she'd changed the bandages. The muscle on his fingers had near entirely been burnt away were the leather on his gloves had fused to the skin. He'd never play piano that was for sure.
It was that moment that she got in contact with Gilbert. Her relationship with Austria had ended over two decades ago, and whilst she still cared for Roderich dearly she knew that there was nothing left of the love they once felt for each other. The endless rows and the drift between the two of them in the lead up to 1918 essentially signed the death certificate of their feelings toward one another. No, she chose to get back in touch with Gilbert because of the ache that was present in her chest when she thought of the chances of any of her close friends in the state that the men came to the field hospital in.
Every man she looked at were no longer their individual people, but visions of the countries they were part of. Italians looked like little Feliciano, Germans like Ludwig and Prussians, well.
The head nurse asked her to take the weekend off and get her head straightened out or leave the hospital after she broke down at the bedside of a young Italian soldier she swore was no older than 17. She was no help to anyone in that condition.
And so, she'd written her first letter to Gilbert.
She should have trusted the man to beat her to it.
Gilbert
You're an idiot.
By the time this reaches you, you have probably already received one of my telegrams. You'll be utterly confused no doubt; you'll have that idiotic confused smile on your face. I hope the boys laugh at you for that, it's what I'd do in their place. Of course this also means I'll receive one after I've sent this one too, but I can always wait until you send me another after this, then we'll finally be on the same page, okay?
Still, it's nice to hear you're okay. Though I hope you realise I'll be able to tell if you're lying, there are benefits to working on a field hospital...
Nothing good is going to come of this, you know? This war is only going to end the way the last one did. I don't care what your bosses say, wars aren't fought the way they used to be. Do you think they'll be any nicer than last time if you lose? Do you think it'll make you feel any better if you get to make your own treaty of Versailles for them? I just... I know what's happening out there, I see it come in to the hospital every day. I wish you boys would just get it together and realise you're being ridiculous..
I'll stop getting on your case about it. You probably get enough of this from the troops.
Stay safe okay?
Eliza x
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February 15th 1944
Dear Eliza,
I finally got that letter, I feel like an idiot now. Just forget everything I wrote in the others okay?
And for your information the guys totally didn't laugh at me, they'd never do that, you know why? Because I don't pull stupid faces, especially over your stupid letters.
Okay not stupid. I didn't mean that.
In fact, I really like your letters. It's a nice change from a lot of the things on the front. It's a reminder of what's waiting back at home. Not that I'm insinuating that you're in a house waiting for me back home with dinner on the stove like some wife! I'm just saying. It reminds me of the peace.
I think you'd kick my ass if I ever tried to get you to do that anyway.
You know as well as I do now that we're in too deep for us to get out of this war without a scratch. The only way we're going to get through this is either by winning or being dragged down kicking and screaming. You know as well as I do there's no glory in defeat, and there's even less sympathy. We'd be signing our own death warrants if we surrendered now. Like hell am I condemning Ludwig to that fate, especially after 1806.
Still, I'd do anything to go back to that peace. Do you think we would have still tried to make up if the war hadn't happened? I hope so. I'd hate for you to still hate me, especially because I never meant for you to hate me in the first place. That was the last thing I wanted you to do.
It's still the last thing I want you to do.
I'm running out of paper, Liz. You'll have to send me some with your next telegram, alright?
Still keeping safe.
Gilbert.
The Prussian folded the telegram immediately, in case one of the boys in the squad should read it over his shoulder. He had to maintain the image of a bachelor amongst them for his pride. The big question however was, should he send it. When he read it back it was far too soppy, he'd poured far too much of his feelings into it after hearing that Elizaveta was really concerned about him. Seeing the words on that paper, so elegantly written, made his heart rise and a grin form on his face. There was a lot of care in her handwriting, he'd never really noticed how scrawled his was in comparison. But there's only so much room for neatness on the front.
He supposed he owed it to her, to send the letter with his genuine response after she poured out all her concerns into hers. She'd even put a kiss at the end of hers. Gilbert really wasn't sure what to think when he saw that, his mind racing to a million different reasons why she'd put it there. Only those who were interested in you really put them on, but was it a friendly family-like kiss, or... did it mean more?
Still, if it didn't mean that, then all the words he'd just scribbled onto the scrap of paper would seem really creepy and like he was coming on to her and she'd get mad and never send another back. Fuck, why was it so hard to make a good impression? Why had things got so difficult between them, and why was it still so difficult now that they'd managed to move on?
No, he'd have to send it to her.
After all this time he owed it to her to be honest at least once.
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February 27th 1944
The telegram was a blessing to arrive that day.
To be honest it wasn't the only one to arrive, she'd received 3 in total. One from Gilbert of course, but the other two were on a far more serious note. Elizaveta was very aware she was walking a thin line here, but desperation had reached her over the past few years. She'd always been on the front line, always felt the thrill of adrenalin as she cut down her enemy. And her enemy were always employed soldiers, people who joined the army for a living. Sure she'd seen her fair share of blood spill over the years, even when she was married, Austria didn't try to stop her from fighting.
So maybe it was because she was finally feeling the sheer destruction of it all.
Or maybe it was just the worst war she'd ever been in.
Either way, she was desperately clinging on to the fact that she needed to do something to help. She'd heard about what was happening in Italy, apparently the southern boy had separated himself from Feliciano, something she knew he wouldn't do after everything they'd gone through to become unified but there they were. The bolts in Germany's perfect war strategy were coming loose and Elizaveta could see it all beginning to fall apart.
So, in her moment of desperation, she'd reached out and called for help.
To Ms Elizaveta Héderváry
Your telegram was safely received by us back home, and whilst I thank you for your concern I'm afraid that the rift created between the two families in question cannot be healed so easily. We would be in need of further assurance that your trust lies in us to do the thing that is right for the greater good. After all we have had other members of your family come forward with such concerns, and whilst my younger brother has been eager to accept without discussing too many terms, our position has changed and I don't entirely see what our friendship would gain for our family.
Apologies.
Arthur Kirkland.
She sighed, opening her cigarette case as she moved to the porcelain sink of the bathroom, striking a match as she burnt the useless message and opened the second.
Yo Lizzie
Yeah, sorry to hear about your problems and all doll, but we've kinda got our hands full over here. And we can't really be doing any favours unless you've got anything of worth to send us? Least that's what Artie told me to tell you should you try and play us off individually, which... I guess ya did. Unless you didn't contact Artie in which case I'm flattered, but we've pretty much got this 'problem' under our belts so. Don't you be worrying you're silly little woman's head over that okay?
Alfred F. Jones xxx
She's never struck a match so quickly after reading that.
They made her so mad. All these brash boyish nations parading around killing one another like it was some joke, like the fight for their pride wasn't costing the lives of millions. She refused to believe that she'd once been so naive like them. As she stood locked alone in the bathroom of the field hospital she shook with anger. She wanted to hit something, to run out into the middle of a battle field and scream at the top of her lungs. To let the world know just how stupid and cruel it was. But all there was to console her was the one remaining telegram on her creaky iron bed, which she returned to after washing away the remains of the previous pathetic messages.
Hungary returned quietly, straightening herself and her nightgown as she sat down on the thin mattress and cotton bed sheets. She took the small rectangular envelope in her fingers, running over the sides as she dared herself to open it. The paper felt surprisingly soft, worn from its travel, it smelt of gunpowder and the damp. He face twitched into a small smile when she remembered the last letter she'd received, it was all rambling and defences as he tried to make sense of the telegram that was sent to him claiming to be an out of the blue attempt to get back in touch with him. She'd spent the afternoon giggling at the thought of Gilbert as he wrote it. Some of the girls at the hospital had come to the conclusion she was madly in love with a German soldier on the front.
Her opinion on this matter was...
Well...
Dearest Gilbert
I'll be sure to put the idea of your confusion and the endless ramblings you put to paper to the back of my memory. I'm very much sure that they were in fact not your own words at all, that some fool from your squad stole the pen and impersonated you as a bumbling idiot who had no idea what was going on.
Still, I award you for your honesty, bizarre comments and suggestions aside. (Of course I would do such a thing, we all know you'd be the one waiting at home and cooking)
Yes, I'm aware that my hopes are nothing but idle wishes, especially when it's you of all people who I'm asking to seek out peace. Sometimes I swear war runs in your blood. But then again, I guess it runs through all our blood. I wonder if there will ever be a time when we're not fighting.
You know, now I look back on it, I was an idiot for what I did to you. I alienated myself from you because I thought you despised me for tricking you into believing I was something I wasn't. Which I didn't. After a while the rift that I caused between the two of us turned into spite and I'm so sorry for that. I'm sorry for any pain I caused you. Though I intended it at the time, it's only now I realise its true consequences.
You should try working at a field hospital some time gil. Really clears your head.
I'm sending you that paper you asked for, so you have no excuse not to get back to me when you receive this. So help me if I find out you're avoiding me, I'll seek you out myself. I'll make the allies look like a walk in the park by comparison after what I do to you.
Because, well... I don't want to lose you now.
Yours.
Eliza x
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March 20th 1944
Eliza,
I'm sorry about the delay, I really am. Lord save me now if you swoop down a day or so after this telegram has departed only to kill me because you thought I was avoiding you. That would just be awkward for the both of us when you finally receive the letter.
You see, my squad got moved from the western front to the Italian front. Got a bit of bother going on over there, Allies think it's a smart move coming up the peninsular so they can avoid invading Spain or something. Naturally it's not going to work, we'll kick their asses as soon as they get over here.
Did you hear about Lovino? Yeah, apparently he's chucked in his towel and gone to fight on the other side. Ludwig asked me the other day why I wasn't so irritated about it, he said 'wouldn't you be mad if I up and left for the other side out of nowhere?' And you know what? I told him I didn't blame him. I told him that he was only looking out for his baby brother in the end, that he didn't want to see Feliciano get hurt over this war. Of course he went on one of his ramblings about how this was a really big setback for us, but honestly? I just think it's all a question of trust. It's a big deal, laying your trust in someone who's brought a lot of trouble your way, especially when they're pretty good friends with your only younger brother who you've fought to be with for the last century. Once we've proven that he can trust us, he'll come back.
You trust me don't you, Liz?
Of course, I'd understand if you didn't. As much as you say you caused a rift between us, it was my own stupid fault that we got into this mess. Really, I should have seen it coming for decades. And then when I found out, well, I didn't know what to do. I was just coming to terms with some of the feelings I had for you at the time and... I screwed up big time.
Next thing I knew we were on opposite sides of the battle field.
We were always on opposite sides of the battle field.
So, knowing that you're back. Knowing that you want to talk to me. Knowing that you're on my side this time... it's the strength I need for this fight.
Cause like hell am I loosing you either.
Listen, I was thinking, maybe I could get Ludwig to get my squad posted over there after this problem with the Italians. I'll come over and make up for lost time, okay?
Still got all that paper you sent me.
Gilbert x
Lord have mercy on him, he actually had the strength to put a kiss on the end of that one. He was turning into a real hopeless romantic.
Still, after 600 or so years of waiting, you would too.
When he marched through the camp to give his telegram to the messenger he had an extra spring in his step, despite the way that the mud tried drag him back down. He was grinning manically and he couldn't stop himself, for once he just felt on top of the world. I mean after all, that telegram he received was practically a confession. 'Dearest' Gilbert? 'Yours' Eliza? And the way she responded to his message. It was too perfect. Too good to be real. Too amazing and elevating.
He could see why a woman was all the moral a soldier could need now; he understood why the other troops would wait until mail day with eager hands.
It all made sense. The way humans would act, how they'd get that great patriotic sense because they had something to defend, something worthwhile.
Okay, Gilbert would be lying if he said he was someone who didn't have any sense of patriotism. However it had been kind of hard to find his root after the abdication of William the second, always a royalist at heart. It was just hard for him to come to terms with fighting for a country he saw no strong figure to guide. It always used to be for King and Country and now...
But that didn't matter, he'd found his anchor now. He'd persuade Ludwig into letting him go to the Eastern front and then he could visit Eliza and-
"Ah, Gilbert, you're here."
"Think of the devil and he shall arrive!" Gilbert cheered as he marched forward to close the space between him and his younger, but definitely not smaller, brother, embracing him with that cocky and glee driven grin still plastered on his face. "Guten tag, bruder. What nature calls you from your tent?"
"Stop talking like that." The younger nation's weary grimace fell across his expression as soon as the albino opened his mouth.
"Stop what?"
"Talking like that."
Gilbert simply grinned like a child who'd eaten all the cookies from the jar and had no regrets once he'd been caught, waiting for his brother to say what he meant to say.
"Listen, Gilbert, We need to talk." Ludwig gave him a tired expression, like he really didn't want to spend time talking to his brother but had to anyway.
"Fine. Talk. Talking was what we were doing? Why say you need to talk when it's what we were doing already?"
"No I mean we need to talk about something."
"What?"
"Something serious."
Gilbert stopped, the expression Ludwig was putting on wasn't a stern 'come on we have to talk about plans of battle, get your act together and stop acting like a child', rather he looked tired, worn out, and Gilbert was only just beginning to notice the physical strains that this war had put on the german.
"Why what is it? What's happened?"
Ludwig's eyes fell to the ground, he didn't look too sure about telling him anymore. Gilbert wondered for a moment what he must look like.
"That's another telegram for Miss Hungary isn't it? You should probably send i-"
"Whats. Happened. Ludwig."
Gilbert gave a warning growl, his stomach clenching as his mind made up a million things that Ludwig needed to tell him. God, please let it be something boring, let it be something irrelevant to him, or let it be something to do with Italy maybe, he's gone to the allies hasn't he? Dear god please don't say its anything to do with-
"On March 15th, Operation Margarethe was put into action. Admiral Miklós Horthy was invited to Klessheim by the fuehrer. Whilst negotiations to do with the armistice they'd been planning with the Allies were underway..."
Gilbert began to slowly let the words sink in, watching his brother as he seemed to grimace at the words that were rolling off his tongue. He paused, taking a breath and running his hand through his hair, trying to keep it out of his eyes whilst he worded his next sentence very carefully.
"German troops... occupied the Kingdom of Hungary."
He could almost hear another rift between them being ripped apart.
The telegram fell to the sodden earth, useless litter to anyone now.
- To Be Continued -