Chapter 1: Gelegenheit und Fortuna

September 1933

"He's gone."

"No. No. He can't be gone!"

"He's gone. There's nothing we could do."

"No! H-He was supposed to -"

"You can't possibly have believed he would have made it another week! You're such a fool Feliciano! What with your stupid, childish hope -"

"At least I had hope, Lovino! Yes, it may have been foolish, or stupid o-or childish, but at least I believed that he would have made it through! If no one had believed in him, he wouldn't have made it as far as he did! You never did. You NEVER did! That's why you're like this! You think that no one believes in you, but you were wrong! There were at least two people who always believed in you. Grandpa and I! Now there's only me left, and I-I don't know why I bother sometimes. But you're my brother, a-and beneath all of this, I know you're a good person. A good person, with a good heart. T-that's why grandfather and I believed in you."

The eldest brother crumpled to the floor to put his head in his arms. He hicupped as he laughed, tears running down his face.

"What did I ever do to deserve you Feliciano?"

The younger brother hurried forward and sank to the ground beside his sibling. His hands flurried about, uncertain of how to comfort the only person he had left in the world, because he could not yet ease the pain in his own soul.

"Shh! It's okay Lovino! Do-Don't cry! Please! I'm sorry I said such mean things - I-It's just that all the stress and I just feel so sad - it could never be your fault!" Feliciano sniffled as he put his arms around him brother in an embrace.

Lovino held him tightly, like the anchor that held him steady. He screwed his eyes shut in an effort to quell the water spilling from his eyes.

"It's never your fault, Feli. I'm sorry for all the nasty things I have said to you, and will undoubtedly say to you in the future. You're right. Grandpa wouldn't have made it without you. You always made him pasta when he asked for it, or played him his favorite song."

Feliciano knew that all their flaws had been forgiven, at least for now. He felt that all the words that needed to be said were said, so instead hummed what he knew of La Forza Destino. Their conjoined sorrow haltingly faded into the afternoon sunlight that streamed through the open window. The emptiness that accompanied the numbing emotions of grief filled their beings, slow as molasses, until it consumed every possible space left within them. The brothers remained in their positions on the floor for what seemed like hours, though it may have only been minutes. Lovino was the first to disturb the silence, which was often a characteristic of his brother. Feliciano stirred as he felt his sibling stand.

"What are we going to do, Lovino? We're orphans now," Feliciano whispered, the words sounding too sharp, too foreign on his usually cheerful tongue.

The older Italian forced a smile onto his face, "It was fitting of Nonno to pass on the last day of summer. He would probably have wished for this if he could. He left this."

Lovino approached an oak table in their living room, and pulled a creased piece of paper out of his pocket. Feliciano scrambled to his feet and walked to the table. Lovino unfolded the paper. It was covered in ink that formed letters, swooping and curved like the flight of a bird spiraling to the canopy of a forest. He skimmed the last letter written in his grandfather's hand. He laid it flat upon the wooden surface in front of the two young teenagers, and pointed with a shaking finger to one of the paragraphs in the middle of the page.

He swallowed, his throat constricting, "Wait until you finish school. I-I'll leave, and find a job somewhere, just to tide us over until I come of age, and we can use the money that grandfather left us."

Feliciano shook his head adamantly. "No! You can't Lovino! You've been working so hard in school. You're the smarter one! If anything, I should be the one to find a job!"

Lovino looked grim. "Feliciano, you can't. No one will hire a thirteen-year-old. Look," he tried to make the situation more appealing to his brother, "It's only five years. I'll be twenty-one by then, and then I can inherit the fortune. You'll be eighteen and have finished your primary schooling. Besides, that means I won't have anymore homework to procrastinate on, or bastards to deal with in the hallways."

"There has to be another way!" Feliciano begged.

Lovino frowned, before continuing. "Well... It looks like he knew someone from Germany."

"Germany?" Feliciano asked astounded.

"Someone he met during the Great War, sounds like," Lovino responded blandly.

"How do we know we can trust him?" Feliciano pondered aloud, sliding his eyes along the table to look up at his brother.

His brother's brow furrowed. "I don't know Feli. Nonno must believe that he can take care of us, for some reason. And," Lovino smiled again, meeting Feliciano's eyes, "Like you said, I should believe in him a little more, huh?"

Feliciano tried to hide his surprise. "Only if you promise me you'll finish your schooling! In two years, then we can move to Germany."

Lovino looked defeated. "Feli, you know I can't do that. How will we support ourselves?"

"U-uh... I - Can you - Oh I know! Ask that German man for money!" Feliciano perked up.

"We can't just ask people for money Feliciano," the older Italian groaned.

"Why not?"

The elder brother made to answer, then hesitated, appearing to be deep in thought. Feliciano fretfully looked for a sign of cooperation. He received it not a moment later when his brother opened his mouth.

"Fine, only if you promise me to finish your education in Germany - Augh! Get off me!"

The youngest brother tackled Lovino to the ground in ill-conceived happiness.

October 1933

"Ludwig, you must be joking! You can't mean that - tell him grandfather!" The platinum blonde's head swiveled like an owl's, with a speed that Ludwig found to be uncharacteristic of his usually sedentary brother, toward their grandfather's direction. Ludwig swallowed nervously, but stood firmly in place, his shirt collar feeling tighter as each silent second passed by, the quiet constricting. Their grandfather watched him with a tilt of his head, as if he saw something new about his ten-year-old grandson. He failed to say anything for several moments, and his brother's patience wore thin, as always.

Gilbert slowly lowered the arm that had previously been flung toward his younger sibling in an accusatory fashion. He turned his head to look directly at Ludwig.

"Surely you don't mean that. You can't - how would you know? You're only thirteen. You were just twelve yesterday -,"

Ludwig found his lost voice, to interrupt his brother, "You said I could have anything I wanted for my thirteenth birthday. And I want to join the Deutsches Jungvolk. Today," he faltered.

The normally soft tick-tock of their grandfather clock down the hall rang loudly in Ludwig's ears. His perfectly shined shoes peered up at him as he glanced down at them. The hallway he barely stood in had never seemed longer. It began at their green doorway with a mat and pile of shoes, the dirtied pairs belonging to his reckless brother. The stairs began not much further down the hallway to greet the upstairs bedrooms, and a small bathroom. The downstairs hallway was lined with doorways leading to locked rooms, only one open. The one Ludwig stood in opened up to the living room, populated by sparse furniture and a clutter of old tomes upon wall-to-floor shelving. The hallway ended at the kitchen, but this moment was far from ended. The blue-eyed German noticed that his shoelace was coming loose, the gray string shaped like an S. He dared not bend down to fix it, lest his brother or grandfather say something.

He could feel the tense air in the room thicken as Gilbert stared icily at his sibling. Aldrich looked more surprised than shocked. It appeared that he was taken aback by the exclamation rather than the declaration itself. It was quite the opposite with the bronze eyed German, who was livid.

The silence was punctuated by the sweat only Ludwig could feel running down his back, making his white starched shirt stick uncomfortably to his back. His brother's earlier rage was settling into simmering fury. He wasn't even quite sure why his family was angry at him. It was common for a young German boy to join the Hitler Youth, wasn't it? His friend Hans Scholl, had joined, and his family was so proud of him, his uncle gave him a black eye to bring to school as his medal. It was encouraged in the organization for older members like his uncle to do stuff like that, Hans had told him, his chest close to bursting with pride. It helped weed out the weak and unfit. Ludwig's stomach had turned at that, but the rest of the boys had cheered and congratulated him. Ludwig just assumed it was because Hans had moved from Ingersheim and was two years older than him, so he knew more things. He thought this would only help add to his case, so he opened his mouth, which in retrospect had not been the best idea.

"Even Hans joined last week! Now all the guys are joining, and I want to, too."

Gilbert's eyes nearly burned into him.

"They've brainwashed you! Fritz joined the Hitlerjugend! Why in hell would he go join the fucking-"

"Hans," Ludwig disrupted him coolly, "Watch your mouth Gilbert. It is proper to address others by their given names, rather than their middle names."

"Ludwig, what's gotten into you! You're the one being abnormal. It's all Fritz's fault. I'm going over to his house to knock some sense into him -"

"Stop it! You'd never be able to understand!"

"Oh, and why would I?" Gilbert's eyes flashed red, and Ludwig could detect the challenge in his voice. Ludwig scowled and narrowed his eyes.

"Because! You're not normal! You could never understand what being a true German really is! Everyone knows it, you just refuse to acknowledge it! Your hair, your eyes, your skin - everything about you is strange! Stop calling me West, you are not Prussian! You are German! Why can you not be proud of that?!"

Ludwig was surprised to find that his brother stood there, seemingly unhurt by his rapid-fire insults. He could tell that Gilbert had been injured by his words as he looked directly into his eyes. Rather than the satisfaction he had been expecting from undermining his brother, he only felt empty, as if the words had carried out his soul and left his body hollow. His rant was disrupted by Aldrich's reprimand.

"Ludwig! I did not raise you to be a young man with this disposition. Your parents would not be pleased. This is not what they wanted."

He flinched as if he had been slapped across the face. Gilbert saw him jerk, and rather than come to his defense as he usually would, he remained quiet.

"Now, quit this nonsense. I agree with your brother, you will not be joining that organization. If you cannot tell me why you believe in this organization or any other, then I cannot believe in your true intentions. That is the end of this discussion."

Ludwig was seething, for a reason he could not place. Rather, he felt his anger was misplaced, and needed to be directed at someone or something. He turned on his heel and left the doorway to walk up the stairs in stifled motions. Gilbert's stony facade fell away, as he turned to his grandfather. Although Ludwig's words had hit him below the belt, he turned to face the elderly man in the armchair beside the empty fireplace.

"Grandfather you mustn't let him - " Gilbert was quick to be interrupted.

"Gilbert, who is Hans Scholl?"

The self-acclaimed Prussian frowned before answering, "He is a boy in my grade. He moved here to Rothenburg when his uncle demanded that his family move. I usually get along with him, but he showed up at school a few weeks ago with a bruised eye, claiming it was his "medal." He is typically so easygoing, I-I don't understand. Antonio used to think they were peas in a pod. He never would have joined such a manipulative group. Ludwig looks up to him, and I wouldn't have disagreed. He would be a good role model, but this organization..." Gilbert dropped off to ponder the rapid change in the laid-back boy.

"He must be the one I have seen walking to the market along this road with his five or so brothers and sisters. His uncle... is the "ideal" German. He moved here to Rothenburg because of the Nazi propaganda. He cannot have simply joined if... I believe his uncle is part of the Sturmabteilung, or the Hitlerjugend's adult counterpart. He can put away quite a few beers. The propaganda has been promoting this town as the quintessential German home. The Kraft dutch Fruede have even been scheduling day trips here," Aldrich mused.

Gilbert was also quick to jump to conclusions, though he was often more correct than people were to believe.

"His uncle must have forced him to join! He couldn't have- wouldn't have joined on his own! That's why his uncle punched him!"

Aldrich said nothing, although his silence led Gilbert to believe he was right. The older brother clenched his fists, not knowing that his brother was performing the exact same action on the floor above.

Gilbert looked unseeing, out the window in frustration. "Tch."

"Grandfather, I am going over to see Roderich and Elizaveta."

"Wait just a moment. Remember that you brother's private business, is not their business," their grandfather reminded him gently.

"It is if it's a group like that!" Gilbert stormed out the doorway without waiting for a reply. Aldrich sighed, watching the street from the window facing the west side of town. He saw his grandson's lean form not a moment later pedaling his bike and standing up on the pedals, narrowly missing the side of an oncoming car. A loud thump from the roof registered in the back on his mind, but he was too preoccupied to bother with the sound. Gilbert steered the bike out of view as a man leaned out of the car to yell profanities and shake his fist in the Prussian's direction.

Aldrich was loathe to admit it, but Ludwig's words had held a vague truth. His eldest grandson was not the most loved in town, which juxtaposed his brother, who was the beloved "Aryan" child. His blonde hair and blue eyes lent themselves to this image, and he was growing rapidly. He was unlike his brother, in that he was filling out his gangly form, while Gilbert remained spindly. Ludwig was only an inch or so shorter than his brother, and was sure to be as tall as Aldrich himself, if not taller. The officials of the Sturmabteilung were already eying him to be the poster child of their organization, and undoubtedly were months, if not weeks away from enlisting Ludwig. They had first approached Aldrich the day Ludwig turned ten to join the Deutsches Jungvolk, the branch of the organization for boys aged 10 to 14. He had quietly seethed at their presumptuous attitudes, and sent them off. However, his grandson was becoming his own person, and he saw that one of his goals was to become an adult as soon as possible. He must have seen all the older boys joining, and felt that this was the best way to make his family and country proud.

Aldrich glanced up at the darkening skies, and pushed himself up out of the wooden chair heavily laden with ornate decorations. He slowly walked into the hallway, a lot on his mind. He shook his head, noticing that Gilbert had forgotten his umbrella in the stand by the door. He peered out the small crescent moon shaped window of their door to see the overcast skies, threatening in their own right. He turned to climb the stairs, placing his hand on the railing.

He reached the landing at the top, and knocked at the thin door that led to Ludwig and Gilbert's shared bedroom. He turned the handle as he began speaking.

"Ludwig, you're usually the sensible one, with a balanced head - Ludwig?"

Aldrich pushed the door open fully, to find what he had been dreading. The room was empty, save an imprint on the bottom bunk bed. The bottom bunk was pristine, and neatly made with the blanket and sheets pulled tight, the pillow placed at the center of the bed. The top was another matter. The ceiling was decorated with faded photographs with white borders, and the blankets were bunched in a knot that looked too tangled to even attempt unraveling. The walls surrounding the top bunk, or rather the wall space within reach of a Gilbert arm length, were covered in clutter. Posters, ticket stubs, pictures, even old birthday cards were stuck to the wall with tape. A mild cheep brought Aldrich back to the present situation. Gilbert's pet bird was perched in his hair, twittering softly the song the elderly man had taught him. It sang a soft rendition of 'La Forza del Destino.' Aldrich approached the desk belonging to the boys, mainly used by Ludwig for schoolwork. He lightly set his hands upon the old wood as he noticed the open window, with the screen removed and the curtain billowing in the crisp German breeze of autumn.

"Roma, what am I supposed to do? I can barely handle my own two," He asked no one in particular. The only answer he received was the wind blowing in ruby and amber leaves that reminded him of an autumn day in Italy in 1917.

Ludwig froze beneath the window, and hugged the side of the wall. He crouched low to the ground as he heard his grandfather's voice. His ears strained to catch what they could.

"Roma, what am I supposed to do? I can barely handle my own two."

He did not know if Roma was his grandfather's friend, or someone else. His grandfather spoke of his grandmother in a loving voice, but the tone of voice Ludwig heard him speak of Roma in was usually reserved for a young man speaking of his first love. It was reverent, nostalgic, and somehow far away, as if the words were reminiscent of those spoken in another place, another time.

A soft gust of wind blew by his face, and into the room.

Ludwig's heart thundered as he stayed quiet, and he swore that his grandfather was deaf for not being able to hear it. He heard the window slide shut, and forced himself further against the wall, as he heard a door shut. A breath he hadn't known he'd been holding was let out. The brick wall scratched his back, his shirt providing little protection against the rough building material. He pressed himself against the edge of the building, and shuffled toward the edge of the second story roof facing the alley, where it sloped downward gently. He found himself staring down at the ground, eight feet below him. He misstepped, and a terra-cotta shingle careened off the edge, and shattered on the dirt. A momentary panic seized him. Ludwig stayed as still as a statue, too frightened to move any farther.

This is crazy. What am I doing? They will find out. I know they will. This town is too small. I should go back.

He was ready to turn back and give the entire shenanigan up, until he heard chattering voices and laughter grow louder as people progressed down the alley. He shrunk back into the shadow of the chimney in an effort to disguise himself. Two groups of people passed, one of boys he knew were a grade ahead of Gilbert, and another of young girls from the Roman Catholic church nearby.

I must look ridiculous.

Ludwig noticed the last group to pass were people he knew. In fact, he knew them very well. It was Hans, and his sister Sophie. They spoke in hushed tones with murmurs barely reaching Ludwig's ears. Hans wore his shirt untucked, and his suspenders hung about his knees. He dressed very similar to his older brother's friend, Antonio. Lax, without a care in the world. Ludwig frowned. That wasn't proper uniform of the Hitlerjugend. Although, he supposed that his own attire was in varying states of disarray. His sister looked much more put together, dirty blonde hair neatly pinned back and azure eyes serious. Her dark cobalt dress was covered by her russet coat, and gloved hands in her pockets.

All he could catch of their conversation was "die Whisse Rose."

Hans's eyes darted about, until they fell upon Ludwig's figure. He immediately straightened, and seemed to tuck away several leaflets of paper hurriedly into his sister's coat pocket. He shrugged his braces on, and stuffed his shirt tails into the waistband of his pants. His sister went on alert, as if... they were up to something.

Hans only relaxed a tad as he realized it was Ludwig. He stopped walking, and waved up at him. He cupped his hands together to amplify his voice. Ludwig would have motioned with his hands to stop, but his hands were preoccupied with grasping the side of the building in a death grip.

"Great day for a climb, eh Ludi? I'd have to say it is rather unlike you to be sneaking about roofs. Need any help, friend?" Hans asked laughing, though his tone betrayed and note of suspicion.

Ludwig nodded frantically, before remembering his voice. "Y-Yes!"

"Sophie, I think I saw a ladder further down the alley behind Herr Staufer's house. Be a good sister and fetch it for me, would you?"

Sophie darted away, and left Hans to stand below the houses. It would have been a comedic sight to Ludwig, had he been the one on the ground. A very curious vision as well.

Hans's eyes scanned the rest of the rooftops as he asked Ludwig, "What is the purpose in standing on a roof like that on a day like this?"

"I was off to join the Deutsches Jungvolk! But I seem to have run into a slight problem," replied Ludwig.

Hans immediately stopped gazing at the buildings. "But why are you on your grandfather's rooftop?"

"He and Gilbert would not understand that I want to join! I had to sneak out," Ludwig insisted earnestly.

Hans grinned, but his smile did not reach his eyes. "Oh, did you?" Their premature conversation lapsed into silence as Hans let it drop off.

Sophie returned with a small stepladder, saving them from an awkward pause. The ladder only reach about a third of the distance from the roof, but Ludwig could make do. He edged himself to where the roof ended, and sat for a second to gather his bearings. He used his height to his advantage and was only a few inches away from touching the ladder. Hans held the ladder to steady it, and Ludwig took a leap of faith. His feet caught the first rung, and he had to jump the rest of the way to the ground to keep his balance and stop his momentum. He threw his arms out to steady himself. Ludwig looked up to see Hans and Sophie staring at him curiously. He smiled sheepishly at them.

"Thank you, for the help Hans. And you too Sophie," Ludwig looked aside as they gathered around him.

"Anytime Ludi, anytime. Just make sure to warn me first if I need to bring a ladder!" Hans smiled his lopsided grin, more of a crooked smile, but it was charming nonetheless. Close up, the bruise that had been so prominent a week ago was nearly gone. Only traces of it still lingered on the fifteen-year-old's face.

"Of course, Ludwig. You're welcome," Sophie smiled serenely.

"Would you like to come with me?" Ludwig turned to Hans, who looked surprised.

"Go with you where exactly?"

"To join!" At those words, Hans's face darkened.

"Are you quite sure about this Ludwig? Your grandfather and brother aren't to be happy concerning this. Why defy them? You're not usually one to easily dismiss their wishes."

"Yes, Hans. Why would I not? You've inspired me to join," Ludwig frowned. Something about Hans was off.

Hans hesitated, before shaking his head. Ludwig's expression darkened.

"If you are not wishing to go with me, I will go on my own. As I had intended from the start. See you around Hans, and good day Sophie."

Without another word, Ludwig turned and walked down the uneven cobblestone alley into the weak sunlight peering through the clouds. Hans dropped his pretensive smile and scowled, unbecoming to his freckled face.

"This is not good Sophie, not good at all. They're starting to control people, by using every method possible. They had me interfere with a church service yesterday, and I almost believed them. Almost," Hans admitted, his expression unreadable, "It started with all the papers they have been distributing to the country since last year, and then escalated when Kurt von Schleicher was replaced as chancellor by Hitler. Then the Third Reich and Gestapo were established, and then the book burnings... and just yesterday the entire country announced we were to leave the League of Nations! If no one stops them, then I don't want to even think about what will happen! The word war has been on everyone's tongues lately. It's only been fifteen years since the last war! This world is doomed. People will destroy themselves."

Sophie watched Ludwig look both ways to cross the street. "Hush now, Hans. If unfavorable ears happen upon your words, even more unfavorable circumstances will occur. Ludwig is a good boy, but he is very impressionable. At this age, most of us are. I think that is why they aim at such a young group of people. So many people... how can they not see the error of their ways? We'll just have to fight even harder to make them see it."

Hans looked at Sophie in admiration. "When do you start becoming the wise one?"

Sophie picked up the stepladder, while she replied over her shoulder, "When I turned twelve. Ludwig can sort it out himself. He has a good grandfather and brother."

Hans tagged along after her, while muttering under his breath, "Well, we have a good father and mother. They didn't help us."

"Open up!" Gilbert banged on the door of the large, elegant household. Little was going through his mind other than the scene that had just played out. It did not occur to him that there were other people living in the building whose door he was mutilating, but neither did it occur to him that it was early in the morning for some of them. His bicycle had been cast onto the large circular driveway of the estate, laid on its side, pedals still spinning as if a ghost was furiously cycling. The Austrian-Hungarian household was headed by Roderich Edelstein, but it was really led by Elizaveta Hedervary's grandmother. Roderich had been promised to Elizaveta before they had even been a thought in their parents's minds. Roderich came from a line of wealthy bankers and accountants, and Elizaveta from a blue-blooded line.

They were just so different from each other. Was it possible for two such different people to love one another? Of course, Gilbert liked to think they both worshipped the very ground he walked on, but realistically he knew, that when one finally fell for the other, the third would be left alone in the big world. Gilbert decided that he had as equal a chance as Roderich of Elizaveta falling for him, so it didn't really bother him at the moment. The whole deal about Roderich and Elizaveta being engaged was just a tiny obstacle. The Austrian was too much of a priss to go with the tough Hungarian. He was so wrapped up in thought, he didn't hear a voice from the other side of the door.

The door was wrenched open and Gilbert toppled into the house, upon the body who had opened the door.

"Geroff Gerhburt!" The voice sounded extremely displeased.

Gilbert pushed himself off the figure with his arms, successfully pinning the fourteen-year-old beneath him.

"Hey young master, where's Elizaveta?"

The Austrian looked up at him, nonplussed. That's when the German noticed his glasses were missing, and his violet eyes were glaring at him.

"Specs, where are your specs? And why are you still in your pajamas - " Gilbert was good at being interrupted, this time by a metallic clang and his own shout.

"Ouch! Scheisse! Oh, there you are Elizaveta! Now why are you wielding a frying pan at this hour of the morning?" Elizaveta's hair was clipped back, but she remained in her dressing gown.

"Why are you here at this hour of the morning?" Elizaveta replied.

"It's already eight in the morning! You lazy bones aren't even up yet?" Gilbert was unceremoniously shoved off of Roderich and onto the unforgiving tile floor of the entryway. He rubbed the back of his head.

"Seems like everyone's properly peeved. Any reason why?"

Roderich pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand before replying drily.

"Because, dearest Gilbert, in this household we rise at a normal hour. The staff have been let go this morning, as Elizaveta's grandmother feels that we children are being spoiled and do not need any more frills to this utterly extravagant lifestyle we lead. It's a poorly veiled excuse, because we know that my father's business has been going downhill since the protest of shops owned by people... like us. So, to answer your first question, Elizaveta is right here. Your second, you knocked them out of my hands as I was answering the door you buffoon. Third, Elizaveta's rhetorical question should suffice as an appropriate answer. Fourth, because the staff is so pleasantly absent, Elizaveta was so kind enough as to wake up early and prepare breakfast, which you so politely interrupted. Fifth, we are up, and sixth and finally, we are peeved because of all of the aforementioned reasons and I am not quite so happy at being fully woken by pounding on my door and being tossed to the floor."

"Jeez, calm down Roddy. Did you even breathe with that long tirade? Relax a little." Gilbert sprang up off the floor, self-assured and confident.

"You still haven't answered our question Gilbert. Why are you here so early?" Elizaveta pried.

At the reminder of his reason to his journey there, he immediately deflated. Gilbert's jesting expression fell away to be replaced by a serious one.

"It's Ludwig."

Elizaveta and Roderich exchanged glances. Elizaveta ran to the kitchen as the Austrian replied to Gilbert.

"I suppose breakfast can wait a little while longer. Let's go to the drawing room."

"He did what?"

Thirty minutes later, they were all dressed and sitting in the large room.

Roderich winced as Elizaveta's voice escalated in pitch. His finger idly traced the golden rim of the fine bone china his tea was steeped in. The tea had long gone cold, as the two listened in disbelief to Gilbert wove his solemn tale of only a few hours before. The late morning light streamed through the window, a silent witness to the growing sense of dread in the room. The estate beyond the closed white doors of the large room was slowly stirring, and voices could be heard floating from above the stairs.

Gilbert sighed, and raked his hand through his choppy hair.

"Ludwig's gone and joined the Hitlerjugend, I'm sure of it. Grandfather was never very good at keeping us in the house. We used to sneak out onto the roof when we were younger to watch the night sky for meteor showers. There's been so many times I've snuck out to come see you guys when I wasn't exactly supposed to. I know Ludwig normally would never leave the house without telling grandfather, but I get this terrible feeling that he will."

The hand resting in Gilbert's hair tugged on the light colored strands, and the other in his lap tightened its hold on his pants in frustration.

"I just don't understand why he would do this. I mean, he's the one always telling me what to and not to do! Why would he join the Nazi Youth? Damn it, I don't understand!"

The Austrian boy set his tea on the side table. He leaned forward in the plush armchair to glance at Elizaveta. She looked as confused and defeated as Gilbert. The silence that followed the German's exclamation only further increased the unease that settled into his bones. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Well... you're not sure of it, are you Gilbert?"

"I'm positive," Gilbert retorted.

Roderich mused over the fact, as Elizaveta responded.

"What can we do? If his conviction is this strong, then you what you say must be true. You've said everything that could be said, it sounds like, and if he didn't listen to your grandfather, then what can we possibly say to dissuade him?"

"I don't know!" Gilbert cried. "I feel so powerless, and I hate it! Gott verdammt! I-I'm his older brother! I'm supposed to protect him, and look out for him - I promised my mom before she died!"

Elizaveta fell silent and crossed the room to place her hand upon Gilbert's arm consolingly. Roderich stood as well to briefly squeeze his shoulder in reassurance.

Roderich spoke. "Perhaps... you need to see that this is what Ludwig wants. He's a good child, and will certainly keep himself out of trouble. What's the harm that can come from it?"

Elizaveta was shaking her head frantically before Gilbert stood quickly, throwing her hand aside. Roderich abruptly backpedalled as he cornered him against the chair.

"What's the harm that can come from it? What's the harm? How could you possibly be that blind? Don't you know what could happen! That place brainwashes them! I've seen them go in, it's complete mind control! Some of them are only ten years old a-and fucking hell - "

"Gilbert!" Elizaveta shouted at him to interrupt his tirade.

"Yelling at Roderich is not helping the matter, in any way. You're taking out your anger on a friend who is only trying to help. Can't you see that, or are you being as thick-headed as usual?"

Gilbert paused, and looked to see the hurt in Roderich's violet eyes. His lower lip was pressed firmly against his top. As easily offended he knew the Austrian could get, he still felt terrible. He immediately backed up and Roderich sat down into the chair.

"Aw, shit. God, I'm sorry Roddy. You're right Elizaveta, I'm being stupid. I just - I promised my mother. I promised. If I can't keep my word, then what does that leave me? You guys, my family and my word are all I have left... "

Roderich shifted over in the large chair to make room for Gilbert. He patted the seat next to him. Gilbert flopped loosely into the chair. Elizaveta came to stand around the low back of it, and placed her arms around the both of them.

"It's alright Gilbert, we understand. After all, we have been putting up with you for ten years now. You'll see, even if it seems bleak, you'll make it through. We'll make it through, together," Roderich smiled at him, and Elizaveta rested her chin lightly upon Gilbert's shoulder.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I promise to continue it, and I will be continuing my USUK one as well. This fic will feature the pairings of GerIta, PruAusHun, Spamano and possibly USUK or Franada. The PruAusHun will sort itself out, as I have plans for it. Your opinions matter to me, so if you want the frying pangle to work out in one way or another, just shoot me a quick PM or review. :)

In short, this story will update pretty quickly, probably about one chapter a week. It won't drag on needlessly, so please stay with me. Reviews are love!

-Lifeisforlivingoutloud