It was a warm day, warmer than usual for April in the damp regions of the Black Forest. And, unlike normal, the sun was out, and not a cloud could be seen through the canopy of pine needles. They were on vacation, and their parents had allowed them to wander off from the lodge for a while. After all, all their parents ever did was talk and do boring adult stuff. So, after clawing his way up with great effort, Gilbert stood and balanced precariously on the large rock and laughed in triumph, his arms stretched wide for balance. He lifted his head to the sky, feeling the rays of sun touch his face.
"Look, Luddy, I'm king of the world!" he screeched.
"Sure you are," Ludwig said from a smaller rock a few meters away, looking up from his book, "But aren't kings supposed to be dignified? And don't they have responsibilities?"
Gilbert shot his blond younger brother a dirty look and stuck out his tongue in ridicule. "Come on, use your imagination! When I was your age, I was still building pillow forts and climbing trees, pretending to be a valiant knight or a soldier of Fredrick the Great!"
"You still are," the young lad muttered, barely loud enough for Gilbert to hear him.
Gilbert narrowed his vermillion eyes, thinking of a way to annoy his brother even more. He jumped up, grabbing a pinecone from the overhanging branches of a fir tree. While Ludwig's attention was on the book in his hands, Gilbert took aim, and threw the pinecone with all of his ten-year-old strength. The pinecone hit Ludwig squarely on the side of the head before plopping comically back to the ground. Ludwig turned his ice-blue eyes on his brother in fury.
"Oh, you're going to pay for that one, Gil!" Ludwig rose from the rock.
Laughing mischievously, Gilbert scrambled down the side of the boulder he was perched on and started running. Though he was older than his brother by three years, Ludwig was almost as large as he was. However, Gilbert was faster. As soon as his feet hit solid ground, he sprinted away, taunting Ludwig with his obnoxious laugh. He knew how it irritated the scholarly lad. Ludwig screamed in anger, eliciting just more gleeful brays from Gilbert.
Gilbert zigzagged through the trees in the forest, knocking back the thin branches of the evergreens before they whipped his face. He could hear Ludwig breathing rapidly far behind him, his feet pounding on the trampled undergrowth. And then, suddenly, the sound seemed to disappear. Gilbert turned around to see where Ludwig had gone, when a wall of warm flesh bowled into his side, wrapping its arms around his waist and forcing Gilbert's slim figure to the ground using both their momentums. With the wind knocked out of him, Gilbert could only look up dazedly to the sunny sky. Then he started chuckling. Not the obnoxious, loud chortle that he reserved to antagonize others, but his genuine, happy giggle. Ludwig rolled off to the side and started giggling as well. They exchanged glances, and the two of them broke into fits of raucous laughter. Neither of them could figure out what was the cause of such hysterics, but just the mere glance at the other would set them off again snorting and hooting. Their parents would be furious if they saw them in that condition.
That was when the brothers heard two shots from their father's rifle off in the distance.
And the laughter stopped.
Gilbert didn't know why he had thought of that particular memory. Perhaps it was because the two shots from their father's rifle were the only things he could hear after reading the headlines. Perhaps it was because the smiles seemed so far away now, like nothing could be that happy again. There would be no more laughter, not like that. Not as carefree. Gilbert looked around him and wondered if Luddy felt the same way.
As if reading his thoughts, Ludwig looked up from the paper lying out on the dining room table and met Gilbert's eyes. They were full of worry and, heartbreakingly, fear. The news shouldn't scare them so much. After all, things like this happened all the time. This wasn't the end of the world. This was just an event that might impact them slightly, if at all. But, for some reason, both of the German brothers felt that this wasn't just a simple death.
After all, the Archduke of the Austria-Hungary Empire, the heir to the throne, had been assassinated.
Gilbert remembered meeting Archduke Franz Ferdinand once; he had been different than most of the nobility his parents knew, having gone against social customs and marrying a commoner. He had even spared the young Gilbert a smile, and shook his hand. That had been a few years ago. It was hard to imagine anyone wanting him dead. But, then again, that was politics, and many of the aristocracy had disapproved of his choices. What was frightening, however, was that it was radical Serbians who had murdered the prince. And the Austrians, however much they disapproved of their prince, would not take this lightly.
There was a stomp of footsteps behind the two brothers. Gilbert looked around to find a richly dressed, brown-haired man approach them with an anxious expression. Normally, Gilbert would have mocked their older Austrian cousin, Roderich, for taking such care to dress when all he did was stay in his lavish mansion, situated on the outskirts of Vienna, all day. After all, all he did was pound away on his piano and criticize Gilbert for his sloppiness. However, today was not the day, and Gilbert was not so insensitive to mock Roderich's loss as an Austrian citizen.
"There are riots in the city," Roderich ran a hand through his thick hair, a thing he only did when he was stressed. He did not bother to flourish his words with an elevated pronunciation, or flower his speech with unnecessary adjectives like he normally did. If anything was an indication of how serious the situation was, Roderich's abnormal behavior was it. "You two need to return to Berlin, in case it gets out of hand."
Though normally Gilbert was irritated that their cousin acted more like their uncle because of the ten-year age gap between the two of them, Gilbert was presently more concerned about their safety than his tone. He nodded his agreement mutely, his eyes rereading the headline again and again.
They heard the servant's door open, the scuttling of feet as Elizaveta, Roderich's Hungarian maid, rushed in to the dining room. "Master Edelstein!" she called, bursting through the door.
Elizaveta was one of the most beautiful women Gilbert had ever seen, and he had met a lot of noble women through his parents' attempts to "civilize" him. She had long, mouse-brown hair that bounced playfully when she moved. Her figure was slim, and her face was proportioned exactly right. And, unlike most women, she had no issue getting dirty. Often, Elizaveta would skin and clean animal carcasses herself, knowing that Roderich liked to save as much money as possible, in contrast with his late parents who had spent a fortune building the mansion. Elizaveta was also only a few years older than Gilbert himself; they had grown up together, since her mother had also been the Edelsteins' maid. But, alas, Elizaveta had only ever thought of Gilbert as a younger brother.
"I just heard the news," she panted, having run all the way to the mansion from her family cottage in Vienna. "Are you all right?"
Roderich gave her a sad smile. "We're fine, thank you, Fraulein Héderváry. However, I suggest you remain here, away from the riots."
Remembering her manners, she dipped a small curtsey to him and spun, returning to the kitchen to prepare a small breakfast for the men. Gilbert met her eyes for a moment, and in them he saw the same fear that was in Ludwig's. He wished he could comfort her, but he knew that that was impossible, because Roderich was looking at her the same way.
"You should come with us, Roderich," Ludwig spoke up. Though the lad was still only fourteen, his voice was deepening quickly into a rich baritone. "Vienna won't be safe until the Serbian government takes action against these insurgents."
Roderich looked away from the retreating form of Elizaveta, then readjusted his spectacles. "Yes, I suppose that would be wise."
In the kitchen, the sounds of the crackly radio drifted through the door, the announcer speaking in rapid German as report after report came in about the assassination and the subsequent riots.
"Because having Roddy in Berlin is such a good idea," Gilbert muttered sarcastically, using the pet name that his cousin detested. Unfortunately, Roderich and Ludwig both heard him and thus shot him dirty, withering looks. This was certainly not the time for his usual brash quips. Gilbert gave a meek, apologetic smile.
At that moment, there was a shrill ring from the kitchen, where the household telephone was. The three men turned towards the door, and a few seconds later Elizaveta came out, carrying the device with her with its long chord, and handed it to Roderich. Her expression was grave. That could only mean one thing: it was their parents.
Roderich held the receiver to his ear and the speaker to his mouth. "Hello?" he asked, his voice more nasally as he spoke in the telephone. There was a pause, and Roderich nodded, though the mute notion did not transfer through the speaker. "Yes, yes, I understand." Another pause. They were all watching him intently, seeing if his expression changed for the worse. "All right, I will. Yes, of course. Understood. We will leave at once." Roderich waited for the line to die before replacing the speaker on the receiver and handing the telephone back to Elizaveta.
"That was the Baron," Roderich announced unnecessarily. "He demands that we all return to Berlin at once. He is sending a car from the embassy to pick us up. He says he will meet us at the border."
Ludwig and Gilbert exchanged looks. "Well, that's unusual," Gilbert remarked, "I didn't know our old man could drive."
The humor was lost on the others though, and Gilbert's amused smile disappeared. Of course the Baron didn't drive; their father was too elite to learn how to operate such foolish machinery. However, Gilbert had taken great pains to learn how to drive; it was the new status, to be able to drive, to own a car. Ladies loved the classy cars. But, Baron Beilschmidt was rich enough to own several cars and to have his own driver. He was also old-fashioned enough that he turned his nose down on driving. What was unusual, however, was that he would actually be at the border. The reason Gilbert and Ludwig were in Vienna was because he and their mother were at a function for the nobility, and Gilbert had obstinately refused to attend, despite his mother's protests. Their father would not lightly return from such an event.
Elizaveta immediately rushed upstairs to begin packing their bags. Roderich, meanwhile, heaved a heavy sigh. In a way, Gilbert felt bad for him; he was being forced to leave his family home, even if temporarily, against his will.
Ludwig rose, the chair screeching on the wooden floor. "I'll go help her," he announced before plodding after the maid, leaving Gilbert alone with their cousin.
There was an awkward silence between the two of them for a moment as Gilbert struggled to hold his biting tongue. They looked away from each other. Then, not being able to take the silence, Gilbert burst out, "Why don't you tell her?"
Roderich flinched. There was another moment of silence before the Austrian responded, "It isn't the time."
"If you don't say something now, you might never get another chance."
His cousin hung his head, knowing that what Gilbert said, however annoying he may be at times, was right. Sighing, he stood and went to collect his valuables from the hidden Edelstein safe, leaving Gilbert alone in the dining room, feeling slightly useless. So he, too, stood and headed to the kitchen to get some food in case they got delayed on their way to Berlin.
A little while later, they all met in the mansion's foyer. Elizaveta, her eyes slightly red, handed Roderich and Gilbert their cases, packed with clothes. She didn't have one for herself. Their cousin noticed and, with a glance at Gilbert, asked to talk to her in private for a moment. They left the room, Roderich's hand on the small of her back and her hair bouncing slightly. Gilbert watched them leave, feeling a stone in his stomach, and Ludwig watched his older brother.
When Gilbert looked away, he was forced to meet the blonde's eyes. They were filled with concern. So, to help offset his concern, Gilbert flashed him one of his arrogant, self-assured smiles, one he reserved for times like this, when there was indeed something wrong, but he wasn't concerned about. After all, Gilbert was awesome, and nothing could bring him down; not his father's disapproval, or his mother's pained sighs, the assassination of the Archduke, or the loss of his crush to his older cousin. However, Gilbert had been using that smile on Ludwig ever since they were little, and Ludwig knew now what it meant. The concern did not vanish from his eyes.
At that moment, they heard the roll of tires on the rocks outside the mansion; their ride was there. The brothers toted the bags out, so when Roderich and Elizaveta finished talking, they could go. Gilbert recognized the driver from his previous visits to Vienna, and gave the man a nod of recognition when he approached. The man nodded back, also nervous about the riots. Gilbert explained that they might have to wait a few minutes, and the driver seemed to understand. The brothers went back inside, and a minute or so later Roderich and Elizaveta returned. They were holding hands. Gilbert pretended not to notice, and told Elizaveta that she needn't worry about clothes; surely their mother would have some garments that would fit her in Berlin. And, if not, Roderich's aunt would be delighted to take her shopping. She gave him an appreciative smile, and Roderich led her out to the car. Gilbert winked cockily at him as they passed, earning him another annoyed glare.
"Are you okay?" Gilbert heard Ludwig ask him.
"Of course I am!" he responded, turning to face his brother. "I'm more concerned about you! If you keep looking so concerned, you're going to get worry lines and grow gray hair!" To emphasize his point, he rubbed the crease between Ludwig's eyebrows, and Ludwig slapped him away playfully. His expression lightened a bit, and Gilbert laughed easily. He slung his arm around his younger brother's shoulders, and they left the mansion.
And, with one last look back at the Edelstein estate as the car rolled away toward the safety of Berlin, Gilbert thought, these are the things we have learned to do who live in troubled regions.
Author's Note: Hey, sorry I'm posting this instead of working on my other stories...I've been pretty busy lately. I finally got the Dragonborn DLC for Skyrim, and then schoolwork and books...Sorry. Anyway, this was an idea that I tried giving to my friend, Germanic Spazz (go check her work out, it's awesome), but it didn't fit her story quite right, so she encouraged me to write my own. However, she's about to leave for Russia, and she wanted me to get something for it done, meaning I only had a week to work on this, so sorry if it sucks. I do have the rest of the story mapped out, so I am planning on (eventually) completing it. And there will be FEELS. Anyway, please read, review, and enjoy!