- Liebesleid

Part 1 of the Liebesleid Arc

Italics is Fritz Kreisler.

Normal text is Austria/Roderich Edelstein

...

September 23, 1907

It was a rainy day. Roderich had liked rainy days, but today, his manor had been raining inside. He did not like rainy days in his manor. His wife, Elizaveta, also the nation of Hungary, had left his side early in the morning and was currently hacking at a picture of Serbia with her sword.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

Finding himslef at a certain house again, Roderich sighed. Knocking deftly at the oak wood, he waited, shivering in the rain. After a few agonizing, not to mention wet moments, Fritz opened his door.

"Herr Edelstein?" Fritz chuckled. "What is the great and mighty Österreich doing at my door?"

"I'm running away from my wife. May I come in?"

"Ah, forgive my impoliteness, do come in."

Roderich followed Fritz inside. His house was just as he had remembered it. Austere and classic. So very Austrian.

"Tea, Herr Edelstein?"

Snapping his head towards Fritz, he nodded his head in a daze.

...

After settling for a bit in Fritz's living room and talking a bit about politics, silence fell in spite of the merry conversation that had taken place a few moments before. Then Fritz hit the million-dollar question of the day.

"What about your wife, Frau Hedervary?"

Roderich sucked in a breath. Truly, he was waiting to avoid this question.

"Why are you running away from her?"

Groaning, Roderich let go of his politeness and slumped onto the sofa. He could always say it was because of the morning's happenings...but Fritz was a mind reader, he could see right through the lie.

"That bad?" Fritz chuckled again. Roderich took into notice that he revelled in his nation's misery.

Sitting up again, he cleared his throat.

"Would be so kind to play for me a bit?"

"A pleasure, of course."

Fritz picked up his violin, tuned it for a moment, then he began to play.

Teardrops falling from the violin in the form of music notes. It was good melody. Roderich closed his eyes, forgetting the events of the day.

"Isn't this your own?"

"What, the melody? Ah, no. It's Lanner's."

"Don't lie Fritz. I knew Lanner. He didn't have emotions of love in his music."

"My country is no fun at all."

Roderich smiled.

"When are you going to publish that piece as your own? I understand that it's an honour for it to be said of Lanner's, but as an expert who knew Joseph, I know that's your own composition...what's the title of this one anyway?"

"Liebesleid, Love's Sorrow."

Opening one eye, raising one eyebrow, Roderich inquired, "Why Liebesleid? Love's Sorrow? Are you depressed, Kreisler?"

"No," chuckling again and finishing the piece with a flourish, Fritz sat down again,"I'm not depressed. But it does give you something to think about, doesn't it, Herr Edelstein?"

"What's to think about? Love is a silly illusion, wine for the poets and inspiration to musicians like you."

"Liebesleid, many people think love is only about the joy. Sure, joy is part of it, but love is mostly composed of sorrow."

"You should become a psychologist."

Chuckling yet again, really this man could find a ray of sunshine in the Dark Ages, "I tried before, didn't I? But let's return to the topic. Love's sorrow is an inevitable thing. Take your marriage,"

Roderich sat straight.

"as an example, you love Frau Hedervary, and she loves you. Sometimes she may seem difficult, and you may seem diffcult to her, but when it all adds up, it's still love. It is love yes, but more than that, it is Liebesleid und Liebesfreud, Love's Sorrow and Love's Joy. The purest form of love."

The words were crystal. Sharp, concise, the kind that would cut your heart up into shreds. But they were beautiful, this man was a poet. And Roderich knew he was a fool.

"You love her, don't you?"

Silence rang throughout the house.

"And yet, you are afraid of telling her, or at least showing her, because you are afraid of the sorrow that will happen if she denies you or if she does not return that love."

Brief recollections of a white haired man with an obnoxious laugh. A nightmare.

"But that is what makes love worth it. It is the sorrow you experience."

Roderich knew he was losing, escape was the only way out. He stood up.

"I really must go now, Kreisler, I, ah, have some errands to run. Thank you for the tea."

"Oh, pardon me then, for taking your time, I'll show you to the door then, Herr Edelstein."

...

At the door, they shook hands as was customary in Austria. Then as Roderich turned to go, Fritz parted with words that still rang in his mind.

"You are a proud country, Österreich. Be careful that your pride does not get in the way of your love. Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Edelstein."

...

Roderich Edelstein was a fool not to listen to his words. Eleven years later, he lost her. She left him on her own.

...

(This is not the end, but the beginning. The story is not yet finished. This is a memory of Austria's, he's reminiscing during the Great Sickness, 2067, when the Austro-Hungarian Empire has reunited-but Hungary is avoiding him.)

Historical notes:

Fritz is Fritz Kreisler. He lived in Austria-Hungary. He was a prolific violinist who attributed his scores to other composers before publishing them in 1905. Joseph Lanner was one of these composers. Lanner composed mostly waltzes, and to the expert ear, one could differentiate the music styles. Regarding the "I tried before, didn't I?", Kresieler took up medicine for two years before dropping it. The memory takes place in 1907. The reason Hungary was having a go at Serbia was because Serbia closed frontier trades with the Austro-Hungarian Empire as a revolt against the annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina, starting the Pig War.