Listen to the Études, Opus 25, while reading this. :3

Elizabeta found herself sitting on some well-maintained, bright green grass, next to one of the many bridges across the Danube in the city of Vienna. All around her were buildings old and new, for residences and for business, and churches, churches everywhere. These buildings and the light from them were reflected in the water. The sun was disappearing behind the horizon, and around it the sky was orange, but every other part of the sky was blue and purple, indigo or black. Some clouds dotted the sky. A few stars could be seen.

Oops, wrong place, she realized, standing up and chuckling nervously once reality returned. She picked up the bottle of Szent Tamás Tokaji wine sat on the grass near her and made her way towards Roderich's house. Most of the people who walked past her recognized the brand and the type of wine. There were plenty of Hungarian signs around, for stores and hotels and other businesses. She wondered if all the signs in Italian annoyed the Austrian. She found the house she was looking for and knocked on the door.

"Was, was ist?" Roderich opened the door and took a sip of a Red Bull.

"Huh! What are you doing, drinking that?"

"Verleight Flügel." He took another sip.

"Nice to see you, too, Roderich."

"Mm-hmm, please, come in." He stepped out of the way and motioned for her to enter.

"Thank you." She stepped inside and looked around. "This place looks much simpler than I remember…"

"And cleaner, I hope."

"You still have the piano from 1765…"

"A reminder that I never reclaimed my vital regions."

She giggled. "Are you still mad about that?"

He sighed. "I'm not… I just like that piano."

"Play something for us, then."

"For you, of course." He downed the rest of his Red Bull and sat down in front of the piano, which he knew was tuned already. He began to play Étude, Opus 25, No. 1.

The notes sounded as if they were being played on a harp, and she could picture herself sitting in a grotto and watching the rain fall outside. She took a look to her side and Roderich was there, watching with her. He looked over at her and smiled, and she smiled back. Reality struck again, and she looked back at the real Roderich, who was sitting there, making fast and odd movements with his hands. His eyes were closed, because he knew all of Chopin by heart, having had little else to do back when the 20th century was just starting.

It was 1909. Europe was looking much different. This was apparent, of course, ten years before, except to some Austrian right in the middle of it all. All the armies of Europe were trying to make their armies and navies, their weapons and ships, bigger and better than each other's. Ludwig was off inspecting the new Maschinengewehr 08. Francis was test-flying a Nieuport sesquiplane. Feliciano was refurbishing old ships he'd used during the unification of Italy. Roderich was trying to keep out of the mess he could sense might be coming. He would often play the piano, everything from Bach to Tchaikovsky, Mozart to Beethoven, Chopin to Haydn, and could go on for hours at a time, as if trying to drown out the outside world. Everything seemed black and white, back then, shades of gray all over. The world seemed to be moving quite quickly. He remembered the time when Viennans would complain, a century before, that there were now three musket manufactories in Lower Austria. Now, almost every city in the region had a massive factory that was churning out rifles and artillery. He looked down at his old piano, made of black-painted hardwood and keys of sugar pine. Imagine if everything was made this way…

Then his wife entered the room. "Jó napot, Roddy."

"Don't call me Roddy… you know I don't like it."

"I do know." She walked over to him and kissed his cheek. "What are you playing?"

"Nothing special." He blushed a little and could feel his heart race.

Sure enough, she looked at the paper. "Studio op. 25, n. 1 in la bemolle maggiore," she read aloud. "Wow, Roddy! Reading Italian, and playing a piece by a French Pole!"

"Sh-shut up," he stuttered, looking away to hide his red face. "I like his work. I don't care that he was French and Polish."

"Why are you reading it in Italian, though?"

"Because! … because…" He shook his head. "L'italiano è la lingua della musica."

"And you speak Italian just as an Italian does!"

"Sh-shut up!" he repeated again.

"Why are you so embarrassed?"

"Maybe I just want to get away from this world and hide myself in something I enjoy, all right?"

"Get away from this world…?" She frowned. "Are you… not happy?"

"I'll be honest, no. Something's coming, I can feel it. As if… Europe is about to go to war, again."

"Why would it?"

"Why else would all these countries be creating new weapons?"

"… to prevent a war. Deter anyone from attacking."

"And what if there is an attack, huh? What if someone goes after Germany and Italy and Romania and I have to help them out? What if it's France, and the British and Ottomans team up and pen us in on both sides?"

"… I'd like to say you're being paranoid…. But you're right… and yet, if that happens, you can't just sit in here and play piano all day."

"Well, I've been sat here for quite a while. I've played some Austrians' works, don't you doubt that. If we descend into war tomorrow… I'll be content with what I've done. God forbid it happens. Now, why don't you sit with me?"

"That's all right. I'm going to visit Feliciano, see how he's doing."

"Hmmph." He sighed. "Have fun." No. 2 began to sound in the room. Elizabeta left to go visit Feliciano, and thoughts of thread and sadness filled Roderich again. It seemed as if more and more of his people, namely the Jews and the Czechs and Slovaks and Italians of his empire, were moving away and across the Atlantic to the United States. He wondered why. Do they really dislike being Austrian so much? What's wrong with our country, besides not having any colonies in Africa or in Asia...? Have we... have we been that bad to them, all this time? It confused him greatly. Now Sadiq was making sure his army looked and worked in a European fashion. He had dreams of reclaiming the Ottoman Empire's old territories in Greece and the Balkans and Northern Africa. If Europe went to war, and it sure as hell looked close to that, he would have his chance. He watched as his troops disassembled and reassembled the Gewehr 98s that the Germans had loaned them. Arthur was watching a demonstration of the Hotchkiss M1909 machine gun. It certainly seemed more efficient than the Maxim machine guns that mowed down the Africans, left, right, and center, decades before. And even across the sea, in an America trying its hardest to hold to the Monroe Doctrine and respect the wishes of Washington's Farewell Address, Alfred was watching his first-rate Great White Navy return to Virginia. Alfred Thayer Mahan was right, dammit.

While Roderich was reminiscing on this past, he realized that he was already playing No. 6. Elizabeta had sat down next to him and was watching closely, not bored at all. He stopped once that étude was over. "Erm... would you like something to drink, or...?"

"Ah, well, I brought this wine for us..."

"Is that so..."

"Mm-hmm. Would you like some?"

"Sure." He stood up and went to grab some glasses. She took his seat while he did that. He produced some glasses from the cupboard and set them down. "What kind did you bring?"

"Tokaji, of course."

"Lovely." Roderich dreaded Tokaji. It was much too strong for him. He might even admit that he would prefer an Italian wine, or — Gott! — champagne. He always did get sprayed with it every time Red Bull won a Grand Prix. She handed him the bottle, and he poured it into the two glasses. He handed her one.

"Thank you."

"Prost."

"Prost!" Ludwig raised his stein and took a nice, long drink. "… What's wrong, Roddy?"

What was wrong is that it was 1947, and there was a nice Iron Curtain on the continent.

"Nothing. I guess the war is still on my mind, or something. Drinking like this doesn't seem very… appropriate."

"I know how you must feel. But, I'm sure the Allies have our best interests in mind. We'll be all right."

"You say so…" He looked outside. The moon was new and the clouds covered up most of the sky.

He took a sip.

He finished No. 7. … Eliza…

He rested his forehead on the counter and let out a deep sigh. "Eliza… Eliza…"

"Roddy? Are you okay?"

"Roddy…" He downed all of the wine in one go and regretted it right afterwards. The odd feeling didn't last too long, though. "… Why did you visit me?"

"I wanted to see you, is why."

"Well… That makes me happy. I'm not sure why you'd want to, though."

"Hmm…" She looked down and hummed some more. "… it's because I love you, is why."

"You do?" He looked down at his glass again. "I wasn't a very good husband… was I?"

"You were…" She walked over to him and took his hand. "Do you love me?"

"I do." He looked outside and saw that it was dark. Since it was spring, this meant that it would be time for him to turn in, soon. "Would you, uh… like to go to sleep, now?"

"Together?" Her cheeks were pink. "I suppose so… but… I want to hear you play the piano for a little while longer."

"All right…" So, he finished up playing the Études, Opus 25. Afterwards, he stood and took Elizabeta's hand, and led her to his bedroom. The two lay down on the bed. Elizabeta turned to face him and put her arms around him, and Roderich returned the embrace. "Something about this feels… strangely modern."

"Your whole room is furnished with IKEA stuff."

"Blame Gilbert…" He sighed and rested his chin on her forehead,

"Aww, that guy? Makes sense…" She moved her head away and kissed his cheek.

He blushed a little and looked her in the eyes. "You're still as affectionate as I can remember…"

"Is that a good thing?"

"Ja. … I love you."

"I love you, too."

Sleep came.

Waking up came, too. It always does. It was still quite dark, outside. Elizabeta sat up and looked at Roderich. When she saw that it was still dark outside, she nudged him. "Roddy. Wake up."

"Mmph."

"Roddy…"

"Verleiht Flügel."

She picked him up.

"HEY!"

"Hier sind deine Flügel!" She threw him forward.

His chin hit the carpet first. "Wh-what the hell, Eliza?"

"I have something I want to show you!"

"I can see the floor." She's still as strong as ever!

She helped him up and led him outside.

"This had better be good…"

Elizabeta led Roderich over past the buildings old and new, residences and places of business, and the churches, churches everywhere. He could tell that she was heading towards the Danube, but couldn't imagine why. She led him towards the bridge and then off to the side, to the patch of well-maintained, bright green grass by the bridge, and overlooking the water which reflected the buildings and the light. She sat down and pat the spot next to her. He sat there.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

"Mm-hmm… it is. I suppose I'd never really thought about it…"

She took his hand in her own.

He kissed her hand, in return.

The sky was black, or blue, or purple, or indigo. Some clouds dotted it. It was just as it was hours before, the previous day. Orange light appeared on the horizon. That was different. The sun appeared from behind the horizon, rising high, and the orange light became yellow and dispersed the colors of the night around it.

The two were happy, and that was what mattered.

Remember when my stories were more… comedic?

Yeah, neither do I…