A/N: Is it normal to get emotional in your own fic? No? Oh well. Roderich Edelstein is Austria's human name, and since I wanted him to have an actual family for this, that's the name I used. There is no actual dialogue for artistic purposes. I jump around a lot too, so I hope you don't get confused.
Now, enjoy a not so happy Austria!
He hadn't wanted to become a soldier, but it was a custom that ran deep in his family. It had never been an issue. All of the males were always eager to do their part. At least, until Roderich came along.
He was different from everyone else, and his relatives knew it. Unlike his brothers or cousins, Roderich preferred to stay indoors than exploring in the backyard or playing soccer with the rest. He was always isolating himself, seeking nobody's company but his own.
He mostly remained in his room, reading or occasionally drawing. That is, until the piano arrived.
There was one thing he shared in common with his family: the love for classical music. His father insisted that it was the ballad of the battlefield, and his mother would say that it was the perfect lullaby for the world. Roderich simply thought that it sounded beautiful.
And so, at the request of his beloved mother, Roderich received his very first piano on the day of his ninth birthday. It was merely a toy, but it amazed him all the same.
He would spend his evenings begging his mother for her to teach him. She was an amateur player at most, but she knew how to read the notes on the few music sheets they owned. She eventually obliged, and thus, Roderich caught on quickly.
His passion led him to master that little piano of his, and although it entertained him for a good year, he soon grew bored with the toy. He needed an upgrade, and he told his father so. After much negotiating, Roderich was given his second piano at the age of eleven.
It was larger than his old one, and had all of the keys this time around. It didn't take long for him to master it as well. Every night after dinner, he would perform a little for his family whilst they were lounging in the living room.
Once he was thirteen, it occurred to him that there were an endless amount of instruments out there, and so he saved up for his very own viola, then a cello, and then a clarinet. By the time he was fifteen, he had mastered all of them.
He was known in his town as the prodigy. The prodigy who failed to keep his father happy. In three years, he would be of ideal age to enlist in the military, as most of his brothers had done already. So far though, Roderich had shown no signs of doing so.
Whenever his older brothers were around, they would call him a wimp or a snob, but Roderich was perfectly happy with being a musician. Not only that, but he wasn't the most physically or mentally adept man. He didn't like violence, and avoided it as best as he could.
When he was seventeen, it wasn't out of the ordinary for someone to catch Roderich and his father arguing. His father thought that he was being stubborn and that he was going through a phase that he needed to snap out of. After all, they were the 'esteemed Edelsteins' and they needed to keep up their reputation. There couldn't be rumors flying around town that the youngest son had turned out to be a complete pansy.
Roderich ignored him for the most part. If he was disowned, so what? He was convinced that he could become the next Mozart or Beethoven. Besides, he had just recently ordered a new piano, the best one yet. Maybe he was a snob after all.
That's when his mother fell ill. She just collapsed one morning and wouldn't wake up. She was rushed to the nearest doctor immediately, and she was diagnosed with lung cancer. It had already spread too far. She was going to die soon.
Roderich visited his mother at the hospital every day, playing for her on his very first piano to please her and help her overcome her boredom.
Once, while he was performing a particularly difficult piece, his mother suddenly closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. She never woke up.
Roderich was asked to play at the funeral after her passing. Of course, he couldn't refuse, even if he would rather not. He was in too much grief to focus properly.
When the date arrived, Roderich had his new piano moved to the cemetery. He hadn't really prepared anything beforehand, so he found himself winging it and accidentally creating his first original piece. Nevertheless, he received positive feedback.
In fact, he was sought out by a gentleman from the city once the ceremony was over. He offered him a beginning job in his hotel. Roderich was excited by the suggestion. The city was the place where he could be recognized and make it back.
However, the time and place wasn't right. How could he accept in such a slumber location?
He declined politely, practically dying inside. He had made up his mind. It was about time he lived up to someone's expectations for once.
On his eighteenth birthday a couple months later, he signed himself up as a soldier. His father was ecstatic, and his brothers congratulated him heartily. They even invited him out for a drink. Roderich refused. He was sure he was going to regret his decision, but at least, his piano would be waiting when he came back.
It was, but he never imagined that there would ever be a time when he would be angry at the sight of it.
He hadn't known. How could he know there were land mines in that spot? All he remembered was running, a rifle in hand. He couldn't shoot, his aim was too poor for that. The only thing he knew how to do was run.
He was terrified, he was sure he was going to die. He was a pathetic soldier. He couldn't bear the harsh training and now he couldn't see properly sin he had dropped his glasses somewhere along the way.
And then that horrible sound. He was flung into the air, he was bleeding, he was crying, he couldn't take in any of his surroundings. How could his father have wanted to send him there? Why did he want for Roderich to suffer so much?
His feelings at that moment where nothing compared to what happened next. He awoke in a hospital bed, a nurse nearby. She noticed him and smiled, relieved. She moved her lips, but no words came out.
What?
He tried to say something, but apparently his mouth was glued together. No, that wasn't it.
The doctor stopped at his bed momentarily. Like the nurse, he was mute as well. To be more precise, everything was deathly quiet. He understood that it was a hospital, but there should've been more noise, surely.
Roderich realized that his hearing must have been impaired. The doctor would fix him all up, though, and he would be back home in no time. He was convinced he was missing a leg because he couldn't feel it, but as long as he didn't have to keep fighting, he didn't mind.
The doctor must have read his thoughts because he left and returned a few minutes later with a small blackboard.
'Roderich? Do you feel alright?' he wrote.
Roderich nodded in response, glad that he could comprehend at long last.
I'm afraid you've lost a leg, but you seem much better, so we'll make arrangements for your return home in a week approximately.
Roderich nodded again. He tried to say 'That sounds good', but he wasn't sure if the words managed to come out correctly or not. The doctor seemed to have understood just fine. That meant that his speech was okay after all.
Also, you appear to be deaf, most likely permanently.
'No, you're going to fix me, because that's what doctors do.'
Because it was true. Doctors were taught to heal people, to make them better. Roderich needed to hear. If it had anything to do with the price, he would pay it.
Doctors can't fix everything, and your hearing happens to be one of those things, Mr. Edelstein.
'Doctors can fix anything! Anything! Stop joking around!'
I'm sorry.
That was it. Roderich broke down. He screamed, he kicked, he pushed over the chair that was at his bedside. The worst part was that he could hear nothing. He must've been making a ruckus, a commotion, but he couldn't hear even the slightest whisper as hard as he tried.
When he was sent home, he refused to talk to anyone. Not that it mattered, he could never be sure of what he said and he wouldn't be able to hear anyone's answers.
He was angry at anything and everything. He'd shout at the window because it was too dirty to see through, scold the stairs for tripping him, scream at the bugs that crawled into his room.
The worst of all were his instruments. He tried to convince himself that Beethoven had been deaf as well and that he could be just as good. But the fame came only after the sound. He only became frustrated when the keys that he pushed made no difference. The silence was sickening. He had to find a way to make it go away.
He smashed his cello and viola to pieces, hoping that perhaps a shard of noise could be heard. His clarinet's demise was similar. His second piano, he managed to push out the window. Even his first piano, the one he had treasured so much, was burned. He couldn't bear to get rid of it in a violent manner.
The only one left was his largest piano. Since it was in the parlor, there was no way of destroying it very easily, especially with its size. Instead, he played. He pressed on the keys that he had memorized so long ago.
He played and played and played, allowing his anger to take over. Eventually, he'd hear something, right?
Hours passed by. Roderich thought that his father had tried to stop him a few times, but how would he know? His fingers began to bleed, but he didn't stop. The keys were stained red, yet he continued.
Maybe if he listened closely...
Maybe if he played for a little longer...
Maybe, the pianist is done for.
For now, this fic is completed, but I might add a part two so if you liked it then please make sure to follow!
