Author's note: I've no where I was going with this when I started it months ago, only had notes about dresses at the bottom of the story which gives me a time frame. But I like the Habsburg pairing and I like AusHun, so here you go. Happy 29th of February!

Span all the centuries!

Kaiserliche Hoheit

"You look beautiful," he manages weakly, and her eyes soften at his words, her hand in his giving it a squeeze before letting go.

"Thank you Your Highness." She bows and turns to leave. A gentle hand on her arm stops her.

"Lady Elizabeta?" He does that sometimes, slips into using her title despite the fact that Erzsi is his servant. And in her head she slips up too, sometimes thinking of him as "Roderich" instead of "His Imperial Highness, Duke Roderich Edelstein of the Archduchy of Austria". She forgets in his little moments of kindness how unequal they are, forgets that he has a life he leads separate from her with a Spanish husband and a court and people she has never seen. Her head is home to little dramas she tells herself, fantasies that will never come true. But when his eyes shine deep blue like they are now, she can almost believe the lies she tells herself.

"Yes Your Highness?"

He stills for a moment, frozen as if shocked at what he has done. His arm quickly comes back to his side before he nods, that coldness back in his eyes. "I-" he starts, taking a deep breath. "Nein. You will be accompanying me tomorrow evening, to a reception at court."

Oh! Her head spins for a moment, everything swirling before her eyes. Erzsi nods numbly, emotions racing through her mind to reach her heart first. "Yes, Your Highness."

"I-" He does that so often, she's noticed, starts sentences off like that. She's not sure why that is, because he never finishes them, only starts to speak like that with her. Maybe he's trying to be polite? But in the end he always seems to catch himself, rephrasing his question as an order. "Thank you Lady."

In her room she spins around, Feliciano laughing on the bed. Upon returning to her room she had discovered a beautiful new dress, deep violet in color, which she took to be the one for the reception.

"What kind of a reception is it?" Feliciano asks as Erzsi falls gleefully onto the bed beside the young boy. She wraps her arms about him, pulling him to her chest. He's so young, just like Leopold, but he's also sweet and kind and Erzsi loves him like a baby brother.

"I don't know," she whispers. "I hope nothing too important."

"Why?" The Italian boy sits up to look at her.

"Well, they will most likely speak in German and my German is not that good."

"Yes it is!" Feliciano giggles.

"No," she laughs, shaking her head. "It is fine for here; Roderich and Leopold understand us when we speak, but surely we must sound like foreigners. Oh I don't want to embarrass Roderich!" Erzsi's cheeks are already burning as she buries her face in her pillow.

"He wouldn't have asked you," the boy says cheerfully, "if he thought you'd embarrass him."

"Um hum." She rolls over, Feliciano settling back under Erzsi's arm. "I suppose you are right, Roderich is very conscious of those sorts of things."

"And I think he likes you," the boy teases.

"Shut up!" she yells, hitting him with the pillow. They erupt into laughter before Feliciano says good night, scurrying down the hall to his own room.

If only, Erzsi thinks to herself as she finally drifts to sleep.

He's tense, Roderich's arms fidgeting in that annoyed way he gets; it makes Erzsi smile inwardly. Her dress is violet like his eyes, his suit green like hers. Officials speak quickly with one another in code, their wives making smart comments that win them respect in the eyes of the court. Only Erzsi seems to know the real Roderich Edelstein though, only she seems to be able to best read his reactions and see the truth in his words.

When one of the men finally notices Erzsi at the table they ask in over-annunciated German, as if already knowing the answer, "And where are you from, my Lady?"

"Buda," Roderich interrupts, answering with a tone indicating he had no desire to continue this conversation.

"Well my my," the man smiles smugly, "is this, Your Highness, the spoken-of Lady Elizabeta of Hungary?"

Cold purple eyes meet the calculating brown ones of the official in defiance, as if to say that Roderich will not tolerate where this conversation is going. Under the table Erzsi places a hand on Roderich's knee, trying to calm him, before there's the sound of a door opening somewhere in the distance. All attention turns to the man having entered, a mutter going through the room. Unsure of what to do the Hungarian nation sits still, waiting for Roderich to give her some order. When he stands her hand falls from his knee, her heart falling as well.

It's not that she has anything against Antonio Fernández Carriedo, but rather that he is the object of affection for her object of affection.

The court has gone back to its trivial pursuits by the time Antonio has walked to them, Roderich standing and allowing his Spanish husband to take his seat; the Austrian reseats himself beside Antonio, holding one of his hands.

"You look unwell," Roderich whispers in Spanish Erzsi barely understands from having listened to them for so long, Feliciano and her having sworn they'd learn it to better understand what was happening in the world. "You should not have come, I told you I would be fine." That was why she was here, to make up for his husband. Erzsi could have hit herself for having not seen that from the start.

Completely ignoring Roderich's words Antonio smiles, one hand running down Roderich's cheek, before dropping to the table. The Spaniard turns to look at Erzsi and his smile grows as he takes her in. She feels terribly conscious at that, aware of how fancy her dress is and how awkward she is in it, nothing like the two prim and proper men who sit before her.

"You must be Elizabeta?" he asks; Erzsi nods, her gaze dropped the way she knows she should have it with her superiors. "I hope then, Lady, you will take good care of my husband when I am gone."

Her heart freezes, her eyes snapping up to meet his. Behind Antonio she can see Roderich, incredulous, staring at the back of his husband's head as if the thought of living without him is unthinkable. Erzsi has never seen her Austrian lord cry but she imagines this is what he must look like just before the tears start.

And Antonio, curly brown hair, green eyes, simply meets her gaze, his mouth still grinning. "Do not seem so upset, Lady, it is the inevitable course of history. My beloved Ruy will need looking after; do love him for me, the way I have always loved him."

Erzsi can do nothing but stare and nod, barely processing the words. Roderich lets out a strangled sound as if he is drowning, Antonio beaming.

The next morning her Austrian master has still yet to emerge from his room. Erzsi is standing outside his door, unsure if she has the strength to go in and face him or if she should just leave him be.

In the carriage ride back he had stared hopelessly out the window like she had never seen Roderich before, tears escaping every once in a while. She had wanted so much to reach out and take his hand, to wipe away the tears, but her mind had known that it would have been wrong to do that. Antonio had come to tell Roderich he would most likely never see him again, the two men standing in a hidden room while Erzsi looked out the window, wishing she could stop such a reunion bringing news of inevitable disunion.

Antonio she had met several times before in passing, though never like that night, and she had learned over the years a few important things about him: he controlled Feliciano's brother whom he was quite fond of; he had been married to Roderich longer than any of the Austrian's other spouses; neither man thought it strange to be married to another man; he too was a good Catholic; and he was the only one who had a pet name for Roderich, the Spanish Ruy solely Antonio's name to call his husband.

A raspy voice calls out from within the room. "Erzsi?" So rarely he calls her that name, the normally proper Roderich when he speaks to his lowly servant Elizabeta, that she can do nothing but listen to her heart and his voice.

Entering the room she finds the curtains still drawn, Roderich laying in bed, his hair rumpled. His eyes are unfocused as he follows her, glasses still on the bedside table. When she goes to pull the curtains open he makes a pained sound, so instead she lights the candle beside his glasses to give them some light to see by.

"Do you require anything Your Highness?" she asks, her gaze dropped as she stands beside the bed. Erzsi tells herself she mustn't stare, though she knows the Austrian she is so infatuated with is in only his chemise, his arms spread wide across the bed, his breathing labored but still relaxed, everything about him unintentionally sensual. Her heart begins to race.

"Erzsi," he manages again and she's forced to meet his gaze, his eyes empty, sad. His face is so open and relaxed though, her lord vulnerable in this moment like no one has ever seen him before except maybe for his one-time husband he still clearly loves. "Lay with me." It's almost a question, though the Hungarian understands she cannot say no.

Unsure for a moment she steps quietly from her shoes, making to sit on the bed with her dress still on, but one look at Roderich tells her that this will be a more familiar moment than that. So she quickly removes the outer layer of her dress, and the annoying undergarments she has never enjoyed anyway, only growing embarrassed when she realizes that she too is only in her chemise and stockings. Looking up Erzsi sees Roderich pat his hand beside him; she climbs in under the covers, inching closer to him until his arm wraps around her, holding her close to his chest.

It's the most intimate Erzsi has ever been with a man. She knows what happens between men and women, but she also knows her virginity is highly prized, to be sold to the highest bidder when Hungary needs a marriage to seal an alliance. For a moment Erzsi imagines Roderich, younger, at his first marriage; he too would have been a virgin, sold for his body. The thought makes her shutter, that for her what is still so unfathomable for him is a part of his life.

One of his hands is on his face, covering it. Long minutes pass where Erzsi simply looks up at him, Roderich staring at the ceiling through his fingers.

Then he cries.

Oh God, she hates watching him cry. His whole body beneath hers shakes, his teeth biting at his fingers to hold back howls and moans and pitiful sounds. Tears run down his cheeks, wetting his hair and the pillow, his arm around her back tense, tight, as if she is the only thing keeping him from losing it.

In that moment Héderváry Erzsébet can sense the magnitude of whatever she does next. It's as if she's stepped out of the timeline and is now looking at all of history, both what has been and what would be. She can imagine clothing changing, Feliciano growing, borders moving, being equal to Roderich Edelstein. A little voice of desperation says that what she does now could either make or break any possibility of ever winning his love, of ever being his wife. She does not miss the weight this decision has.

One hand slides under his to stroke his cheek, Erzsi shifting to lay atop Roderich. He stills for a moment, in shock, before her other hand pries his from his face. His eyes are bloodshot, his face puffy, but looking at him Erzsi thinks he has never been more beautiful, more real, more Roderich.

Leaning over Erzsi pauses just before their lips meet, swallowing. Roderich's eyes are still open but she lets hers flutter close as she leans down the rest of the way, closing the distance of her first kiss.

For several awkward seconds she experiments, moving against his mouth, her hand still on his face, her legs straddling his body. Then Roderich takes over.

His hands pull in her long hair, the kiss growing desperate as he tries to take from it something he needs: hope maybe, or love, some reminder that this will get better, or perhaps that he's not alone, that Antonio isn't the only one who cares about him. One hand leaves, running down her back, feeling parts of Erzsi that no one has ever felt, that no one has ever seen. The hand massages the side of her hip before sliding over her ass, giving her cheek a squeeze that has her mewling.

He rolls them over and Erzsi spreads her legs wider to allow Roderich to fully rest his weight on her body. He continues, knowingly, kissing her mouth before his lips trail to her jaw, down her neck, hands coming down her arms to take up her hands and bringing them to his lips. Roderich sits back and Erzsi knows enough to recognize that the hardness pressing into her from where their bodies touch is his erection.

The Austrian is still desperate, his gaze still unfocused, but he seems to sense the weight of this moment too, his mind whirling with thoughts before he picks one. Leaning over her, one hand on either side of her face, Roderich moves until his face is close enough to hers that he can make her out without his glasses; Erzsi has seen him read papers at this distance without glasses, used to steal glances over her shoulder when he was with former spouses. He freezes for a moment as if unsure before he makes up his mind.

"One day," he whispers in Hungarian, Austrian accent thick, but the words are still beautiful to her ears, "I will right this wrong I am about to commit Erzsi. I will marry you, one day."

Beneath him, her heart racing like never before, her breathing growing erratic, Erzsi nods in understanding. "I love you Roderich," she whispers, because she feels she has to explain, to give him some reason to make this ok. This time he's the one who nods.

"I know."

They lay naked in bed all day, Roderich holding her close. He's sleeping and Erzsi thinks that maybe he had never managed to fall asleep when they got home, too much weighing on him to drift away alone. In the hallway she hears little Leopold asking servants if they have seen his Austrian teacher, small Feliciano responding in his almost-feminine voice that he hasn't.

It had been… nice. Maybe it was better this way, getting the awkwardness of her first time out of the way for when she is eventually married off; no one else would have to know she was no longer a virgin. Besides, Roderich had been kind, lavishing her and making sure she enjoyed herself, which she had. He assured her the next time, when she was married, she would better be able to enjoy the act with her husband. There had been something sad to her lord saying that until Roderich had added, almost knowingly, "I will look forward to that night."

She had hoped it would be Roderich. She had hoped so much it would be Roderich for so long, and the confidence with which he had spoken of the day they would be married made Erzsi wonder if maybe he had thought of such a union too.

Her tray is ladened with the empty tea set as she leaves, but his words stop her. "Lady Elizabeta?"

Turning Erzsi forces a smile. It had been several months since they had come together as one, an act they had not discussed since then. They probably never would.

"Yes Your Highness?" She bows a little as she says the words, dropping her gaze and leaving it fixed on the floor.

"I just wanted to say," and her heart skips a beat. All those times he had begun sentences only to never finish them, and now he was speaking as it seemed he had always wanted to. "Well, I just wanted to say that while I am aware that what happened must remain secret, and that you are aware of that too, for your sake…." His voice trails, and daring to look up Erzsi sees that he's staring into the distance, the corner of the ceiling. "Thank you Erzsi," he settles on in a light tone. "You are a true- friend. I look forward to when we are married."

Erzsi curtsies before making to leave. "As do I, Roderich." She does not miss his small smile as she turns, leaving the room as Leopold enters.

Several years later she's furious at him, stamping her foot before his desk. "Roderich!"

"I believe," he starts tersely through gritted teeth, "you mean « Your Highness »."

"How can you do this to me?" Erzsi continues screaming, ignoring him. Her German has become sloppy, Hungarian words slipping in. It makes the Austrian cringe and that only satisfies her more. "You promised me-"

"Yeah, well," and he slams his hand down on the table, his head dropped, "I guess I lied."

She can't believe him, shaking her head in disbelief. Roderich's face falls as he looks at her, cringing.

"I hate you," Erzsi says under her breath.

"I am sorry Erzsi," he admits as she goes to leave. "Just- wait! Stop! Allow me to explain, please?" He sounds so desperate, but giving in last time had not ended well for her, and so the Hungarian ignores her Austrian lord.

"There is nothing to explain," she says at the door, her back to him, before exiting.

"Will you marry him?" Feliciano asks quietly, sitting at the foot of her bed. Erzsi is still clutching a pillow to her chest, silent tears flowing.

"I don't know," Erzsi admits. "I don't want to."

"Why is Roderich trying to marry you off to some Austrian noble?" the little Italian wonders aloud.

"He thinks," she sighs, "that he ruined me."

The boy raises an eyebrow. "Did he?"

That makes her laugh. "Feliciano," she says, smiling wide at her friend. "If you're asking what I think you're asking, yes, we did. He- he swore he'd make it up one day. That he'd marry me."

"What‽" At that Feliciano nearly jumps on her, his face so close to hers. "Really? You mean it?"

"I believed him," Erzsi murmurs. "I believed him in that moment. But why would he want to marry me to someone else now?"

"Well, I know he has to marry who his country says to marry," the Italian states, "for alliances, and things."

"If I marry the nobleman," she starts musing aloud, "it will improve my status in court."

"Could you do that though? To your heart? Even if it is for your country?"

"I don't know," Erzsi admits, her eyes looking out the window. "I don't know."

"He is dead," Roderich says coolly as he dismounts his horse. Erzsi and Feliciano had been waiting on the stairs before the house for him, waiting for their Austrian master to return. Other servants bustle about, taking the horse away, closing the gates, but they stand waiting for him, their eyes fixed on the ground. The Hungarian nation refuses to lift her eyes even when Roderich comes to stand before her, pulling off his riding gloves and holding them tightly in one hand. "I suppose that makes your decision easier."

"Your Highness," Erzsi says, her voice a little too high-pitched for her liking, bowing more deeply. Feliciano makes a sound as if to speak but there's a rustling sound as if Roderich is signaling for him to leave, which the little Italian does.

"Congratulations," the Austrian states, his voice still like ice. "He died defending your honor too. What a foolish man he was; you two could have been happy idiots together."

The Hungarian goes to defend herself, "That is not why I-," but Roderich is already walking away, Leopold meeting him at the door.

He's been playing for the piano for hours on end. Erzsi finds Leopold and Feliciano listening at the door, sending them away to only take up the position herself. Within thirty seconds of their departure Roderich stops, turns, and looks straight at the door.

"What exactly are you waiting for? A golden invitation?"

Pushing the door open Erzsi steps in cautiously, taking in the room in an attempt to look proud, like the Austrian's glare isn't uncomfortable. The nobleman had left her his things, having no family of his own to inherit. She's wearing black in his honor, and that she'd like to think is the biggest dig at Roderich she could muster.

Turning at the piano she looks him straight in the eyes. From behind fashionable glasses and over a delicate cravat Roderich meets her gaze, adding sarcastically, "Were you waiting to get me alone?"

"No," Erzsi says lightly, her eyes narrowed. "No, I do believe you are the one who would need me alone Your Highness. You are, after all, the most over-valued jewel in the Habsburg treasury, regardless of how many times you have been worn in public."

There's a pause before Roderich does the last thing she ever would have expected of him: he laughs, full on, mouth open, leaning back on the stool. The sight is so disturbing Erzsi's heart freezes as she fights between hitting him and running. "Oh," the Austrian sighs finally as he tries to take control of his breathing again, a hand on his chest. He looks up at her with bright eyes, his cheeks still flushed from the sudden joy. "That was good," Roderich concedes, nodding his head.

"I'm leaving now," Erzsi states suddenly, standing a little taller. Roderich raises an eyebrow before lowering it, his hands going back to his piano.

As she nears the door his voice rings through the room. "I only wanted what was best. For you. You must know that."

"No, Your Highness," she says through gritted teeth, still on edge from her lord's mood swings, "I do not know that."

"Pity," he mutters as she leaves.

It's the first time he's entered her room. "My Lady?" Roderich asks politely, an air of arrogance that comes with the Austrian everywhere.

Erzsi had been staring out the window, her back to him. Though she'd felt him enter she has no desire to see his face nor to show her tears. "Yes Your Highness?" Her voice breaks towards the end, though neither acknowledges that.

"I believe you have heard of my upcoming marriage."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"I will return in several weeks. You and I both know that I will be divorced within the year, once the territory is an established part of Austria."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Until the year's end, I had a question to ask of you."

"Yes Your Highness?"

There's a shifting and then Erzsi stiffens just a bit as she feels a hand run down her long hair, her back, the skirt of her dress. Roderich leans against the window beside her, never looking directly at her face, before speaking.

"You see, my Lady, I have never been unfaith in thought or action to a spouse. I have never had a reason to be."

The pause that follows is like watching the sun rise, what the Austrian is saying dawning on Erzsi. She turns to look at him, to see in his face what he might be trying to imply in words, but he's already turned away. At the door, his back still to her, he finally asks his question.

"Will your bedroom be open to me when I return?"

When they had had sex it had been in desperation and Erzsi knew it would change things slowly, at an Austrian's pace. But this was something altogether different, not about them as countries but about them as people. Her beating heart never wavers in its answer.

"Yes, Your Highness."

He nods. "Thank you, Lady Elizabeta."

At first it feels wrong; then Erzsi forgets why it ever did.

It's subtle, the changes, because they cannot be obvious. It's when she brings Roderich tea and he allows her to sit with him, pouring them both drinks before handing her the cup first, his fingers brushing her skin. Or when he plays piano and she sits beside him, the door locked, her head on his shoulder as he writes her songs. Or the gentle clicking of a door open at night, a forbidden lover slipping in to steal another night they should not have.

Most nights she just lays in his arms, Roderich stroking her back and thinking. Some nights they explore, kissing and touching. Other nights they make love.

He's not perfect, Erzsi knows, in any stretch of the imagination. Roderich is obnoxious and self-righteous and stubborn and oblivious and caught up in a web of court life. But he is hers, the Hungarian tells herself on nights like these, and that is what matters most.

"I am leaving now," Leopold says at the door to the library. Erzsi stands to walk to him, coming before his small body that is lithe but passionate in a way she has learned the Germanic nations possess deep down, a hidden well of emotions that she can now see and hear and feel. "I wished to say…." His words trail off, his wide blue eyes taking in the Hungarian nation.

Her arms wrap around his neck as his hug her torso, his body shaking from tears he's refused to shed for centuries. He's scared, Erzsi knows that; they're all scared, though they refuse to let that be seen by the others. Only she sees what Roderich and Leopold and Feliciano feels, because she is the woman who holds them all together, the lover and the mother and the sister.

"I love you Poldi," Erzsi whispers in his ear, kissing his forehead as her hands hold his face.

That magnificent incarnation of the Holy Roman Empire looks once more at her with those blue eyes before whispering, "Thank you for everything Erzsi. I will miss you." A tears streams down his cheek and over her fingers.

"And I will miss you. Now go," she instructs Leopold, feeling her own tears start, "and do not look back. In my heart you will always remain."

With that he straightens up, meets her eyes defiantly, and turns. His cloak going around the corner is the last she sees of him; she knows deep down it is the last she will ever see of him.

"Leave!" Roderich yells in French, shoving the French nation. "And never return!" Erzsi watches from the couch, her arms hugging her body, powerless to act.

Francis looks at her with such beautiful blue eyes, but they are too beautiful and too blue and too much like the boy he had come here to announce he had killed. "I am sorry," he murmurs in French.

"It does not matter!" Roderich screams, his face flushing. "Leave!" Francis does.

Her Austrian lover is by her side within seconds, holding her to his chest as she pulls at his jacket. She knew this day was coming but still…

But still.

"We still have each other," Roderich mutters into her hair. "You and me and Feliciano. We still have each other, and I will never let you go."

Those words should scare her more than they do but in that moment they only serve to drive her to seek his lips, kissing him and pulling at his hair and not caring. Roderich had taken her in a moment of desperation and despair centuries earlier; it was now his turn to repay Erzsi the favor.

She's in the garden, reading from a book. Or at least she had been reading; for the past few minutes Erzsi's hand have rested on the pages, her eyes gazing out longingly over the fields and gardens that she once tended with two small boys. A hand on her shoulder signals Roderich's presence.

Without blinking she lets him slip the book from her lap, remembering Feliciano's laugh and Leopold's blush. Her Austrian lover moves quietly, slowly, deliberately, standing before her. Then he kneels.

That's when she gasps, finally looking at him with his set face. Her tears come instantly, her hands at her mouth before he reaches into his pocket.

"Hozzám jössz feleségül?"

"Kaiserliche Hoheit!"

And she throws herself on him, kissing him deeply as his one arm wraps around her body, Roderich moving forward as her legs part to give him room. His other hand slips a ring onto her finger, a ring she will most likely not look at her for several more hours but that she knows already she will love.

He had promised he would right the wrong, and she had believed him.

Will you marry me?

Your Highness!