A/N: Hello. Now I know I haven't been active on FF in a while, and though I should have been focusing on my current stories, I couldn't help but write this. I thought this idea was one not often used by authors on fanfiction, so I decided to use it myself. For the purpose of this story, Rome's character will only be referred to as "Mr. Vargas" or "Romulus" for the time-being, and everyone will refer to Feliciano as a female until he hits puberty (even Vargas), thus his name will temporarily be changed to "Feliciana" and the story will use feminine prefixes up until he reaches his adolescence.

I hope you all enjoy x)


Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.


Chapter One: Of Propositions and Decisions

Fingers dancing melodically across the keys of his grand piano, the Austrian musician kept his head bowed low and his oddly-coloured eyes fixed on his moving hands, concentrating hard on what he was doing. He allowed his eyelids to close over his blue-purplish eyes for a moment, listening to the soft tune that he was composing. He continued to play with all his heart and soul, remaining undisturbed. Even though he was so immersed in his music, so mesmerised by it, he did not fail to notice the door to the music room creaking open. He could vaguely hear someone entering the room over his music, the door silently shutting behind the mysterious intruder. He paid it no heed, merely cruising his fingers over the ivory keys in an eloquent fashion, producing a delightful sound. He peeled his eyelids back, revealing those beautiful, exquisite eyes of his. He noted with some dissatisfaction that his glasses were slowly unhooking themselves from behind his ears and slipping down the bridge of his nose. Suppressing a huff, the Austrian merely craned his head up ever-so-slightly, never ceasing his movements. He had hoped that the action would cause the glasses to slide back into place. Luckily for him, they did just that and he contented himself with resuming his actions.

After a few more minutes of playing softly in tranquillity, the brunet ended his masterpiece with a few final notes. He let the final one draw itself out, his finger pressed down hard on the key. The sound that emitted was loud and shrill, enough to make goosebumps push their way up to his skin, although that did nothing to faze the pianist. After the noise had completely died out, he let his arm drop to the side. The sound of hands clapping animatedly made the Austrian composer freeze. Getting over his surprise far more quickly than was normal, the musician struck another chord and recommenced playing a harmonious tune, starting up all over again.

The clapping died down and the glasses-adorned man could clearly make out light footsteps heading his way. Even though he could not see who had entered, there was no mistaking that alluring scent that seemed to emanate from the newcomer. He gave a small, quiet whiff and her beguiling aroma instantly filled his nostrils, intoxicating his mind. Before she had even reached him, he could feel her soothing presence, making the hairs on the back of his neck rise and prickle instinctively. She was so close now, her body leaning forward to press against his back as her slender arms coiled around his neck from behind. She bent down a little, her body pushing away as she rested her chin atop his left shoulder and tilted her head slightly to the side, causing her brown, wavy locks to cascade down one side of her beautiful face like a waterfall, her right cheek softly brushing against his left one.

"Herr Edelstein," her voice was soft and mollifying, barely above a whisper, "There's someone here to see you."

Her only response was a hum of acknowledgement from the Austrian pianist, prompting the picturesque (in his eyes, at least) woman's eyebrows to crease into a light frown.

"Herr Edelstein, sir, you have a visitor," the man continued to ignore her, making the woman tighten her arms around him, "Herr Edelstein, did you hear what I said?"

"I did." was his simple reply. He could feel the maid behind him loosen her hold on him ever-so-slightly.

"Good," she smiled, an evil little glint appearing in her vibrant, green eyes, "Because he'd like a little chat with you."

"Who would?" the musician queried, never ceasing his movements as his hands wandered across the piano.

The woman ignored his question, the corners of her lips rising somewhat, "He's also staying for dinner, so it would be most pleasant if you were to wear something nice this evening," she suggested (despite the fact that her beloved musician always wore something nice) and then added as an afterthought, "Sir."

The Austrian brunet didn't listen to her, completely and utterly enraptured in his music.

"Roderich." she petitioned, knowing that he hadn't been paying attention.

"Hmm?"

"You shouldn't keep your guest waiting. He's- he's an important man." the maid said, pushing away from him slightly as she stood upright. Roderich's fine-tuned ears could make out the barely suppressed bubbling anticipation in her tone. At the cocked eyebrow he threw her way, she hastily elaborated in a most vague manner, "A... friend of your father's. Or so he claims to be."

"My father had many 'friends', Fräulein Héderváry," Roderich spoke bitterly and distastefully, his mauve-coloured eyes locked on the piano, "You'll have to be more precise."

The Hungarian cleared her throat, "He says he was very close to him- that they were old associates."

The Austrian didn't reply for quite some time. His brows were furrowed in concentration as his facial expression morphed into a contemplative one for the briefest moment. "What did he say his name was?" Roderich inquired indifferently.

"Vargas. Romego- no, Romeo Vargas. Wait- Remus- hang on, Romigo- oh dear, that's not it either!" the maid huffed in annoyance, "It definitely started with a 'Rom'-"

"Romulus." Roderich supplied so quietly that the Hungarian maid had to strain to hear it, barely detecting the acridness in his tone.

She snapped her fingers together, "That's the one! Signore Vargas told me he had to speak with you- that it was of the utmost importance." the maid eyed the musician from the corner of her eyes like an attentive hawk, not missing the way his shoulders slowly tensed up, "I think you'd better go now, if you don't mind my saying. It wouldn't be wise to keep him waiting... sir."

Roderich didn't respond to that in words. Instead, he set his jaw and narrowed his eyes slightly at his piano keys, purposely avoiding his maid's burning gaze. He inhaled silently only to release a loud exhale. Despite trying desperately not to get riled up about his sudden visit, the composer found it painfully (and surprisingly) difficult not to. He couldn't help the inexplicably mounting anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach, nor the utter loathing boiling his blood and rising up in him like bile. Being the composed man that he was, Roderich didn't make his emotions apparent, instead opting to keep on that closed-off look that his Hungarian maid both hated and loved so much. Swallowing down his surprising fury, Roderich attempted to perish all thoughts of the horrible monster undoubtedly waiting for him in his very home. He found it difficult to completely ignore the numerous images of the Italian popping up in his mind, once again reminding him of exactly why he hated him so.

A dainty hand being placed on his shoulder snapped the Austrian out of his reverie. His eyes slowly trailed up the arm to stare into the pretty face of his maid. She looked down at him with a knowing look, her expression a mix of sombreness and understanding. "I can stay with you, if you wish." she offered.

The Austrian seemed as if he were momentarily mulling over her proposition, but later shook his head, "I appreciate the offer, Elizabeta, however I believe that this affair will be a private one," his mauve eyes bored into her green ones, "but thank-you all the same."

Elizabeta flashed him a sweet smile. Roderich attempted a feeble one in return, but failed miserably, his 'smile' resembling more of a grimace.

"Shall I inform him that you'll speak with him now?"

Roderich paused, biting back the urge to vomit, "Yes... of course."

Elizabeta turned to leave, her light green dress that matched her eyes swaying from side to side in perfect unison with the movements of her legs. Roderich watched her go before turning his attention back to his piano. Repositioning his hands so that they hovered above the keys, Roderich struck up a melancholic tune to go with how he felt about his current dilemma. The music helped ease his worries and successfully managed to push back his wayward emotions to the back of his mind, where he hoped he wouldn't have to acknowledge them. He could barely hear the door open over his music, which was steadily getting faster-paced and growing louder, and could just make out the sound of a few pairs of feet scuffle inside- definitely more than two. Roderich's eyebrows creased into a slight frown. That was odd. Had Vargas not come alone?

Trying his best to prolong his melody, Roderich fixed all his attention on what he was doing. He was helplessly stalling, and he knew that Elizabeta knew that too. Whether Vargas knew was a different matter altogether, although Roderich had the nagging suspicion that Vargas might have some inkling as to why this particular piece was taking so long to finish. He heard the audible sound of someone clearing their throat with an obvious underlying tone of impatience (he had no doubt that it was Elizabeta) and quickly realised that he was already pushing the limit. Suppressing a sigh, he toned it down and slowly ended the song with a single note. No sooner had he finished than what sounded like a booming clap of thunder echoed around the room, reverberating off the walls. A few steps were taken towards him as the clapping continued, but the Austrian musician made no move to turn around and greet his guest.

"Bravo, Herr Edelstein. Truly, you have a gift." a voice that belonged to none other than Romulus Vargas complimented, the forcefully fake and cheery voice almost enough to make Roderich cringe. Almost.

"Thank-you." Roderich thanked curtly, still keeping his back to the Italian. He could see the pondering expression on his maid's face out of the corner of his eye, and could tell that she had caught his glance. The two made brief eye contact, purplish-blue to lush green, and Roderich inclined his head ever-so-slightly. It was barely noticeable, but it was still enough for the Hungarian woman to catch. Roderich was certain that this only passed between the two and that Vargas hadn't noticed. After all, based on what he'd been told, the man wasn't very perceptive. Or, at least, didn't appear to be.

Elizabeta politely excused herself and slipped out of the room. Roderich had a sneaky suspicion that she would be listening at the door.

A few more steps were taken towards him before an uneasy, awkward silence descended upon them. As the minutes drew themselves out, the quiescence seemed to stretch, reaching each and every corner of the room. Roderich knew very well that neither he nor his uninvited guest knew how to break the silence, both completely lost on how to address one another. They were both waiting for the other to speak, the only sound that could be heard a- was that a sniffle? Roderich's brows knitted together in slight confusion, his nose wrinkling. He knew that there was someone other than him and Vargas in the room, but he tried to contain his curiosity and not allow it to get the best of him.

"It's a beautiful day today." Vargas commented, breaking the tense silence. Roderich suppressed the urge to snort in ridicule. Really? That was the best the petty fool could do? Strike up a conversation using the weather as his source material? How trifling of him.

Yet despite his narcissistic thoughts, Roderich lifted his eyes to gaze out of the window. Grey skies were forming overhead and it looked like it was about to rain. Beautiful day indeed.

"Right you are, Signore." the Austrian muttered dryly, barely containing his sarcasm. There was another tense pause, broken only by the quiet sniffling of whoever had accompanied Vargas here. If Roderich didn't know any better, he'd think it was a child. However, he did know better; for as long as the Austrian had known Vargas, the Italian man had never shown any interest in children, often disregarding them as merely necessary-yet-useless tools needed in life. He had always avoided children at all costs, clearly uncomfortable in their presence. He refused to be associated with them, let alone seen with them. There had once been a rumour that ever since the disappearance of his wards, the man was uncomfortable around children. Roderich could not for a fact claim these allegations to be true, but they were undoubtedly intriguing. To say that the Italian had brought a child with him would be completely asinine, as the man evidently harboured a strong dislike towards the little creatures.

That was probably the only thing in common the man shared with Roderich.

Roderich could hear Vargas turn around and spew some Italian mumbo-jumbo to whoever it was. They immediately shut up. Vargas repositioned himself so that he was directly in front of one of the windows, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh, I see those Edelweiss flowers you seem to be so fond of have blossomed spectacularly. Are they faring any better than last year?"

Roderich answered indifferently, "Not particularly."

"Ah, I'm sure they will. They look so beautiful, I simply cannot fathom how you keep them in such condition. I myself am a bit of a green thumb, however my flowers simply pale in comparison to yours," Roderich's upper lip curled at Vargas' words, not at all fooled by his sycophancy, "Of course, I doubt someone of such... standing such as yourself would dare get his hands dirty tending to plants. I assume that one of your maids does it for you? Perhaps it is that kindly one who showed me in. What was her name again? Ah, yes! Miss Héderváry!" Vargas exclaimed and Roderich couldn't help but feel the irrational pang of betrayal dealt to his heart. While there was nothing wrong with a maid informing outsiders of her name, he couldn't believe that Elizabeta would be so imprudent as to so readily give away her surname to someone she knew nothing about, especially to the likes of Romulus Vargas. Vargas continued (much to Roderich's chagrin), "She certainly is a lovely woman, isn't she? Wouldn't expect it from a mere commoner such as herself, but she's a charming lady. She isn't what I would call beautiful, but then again, she's isn't so bad either. Not much to look at, I'll admit, but she's hardly repulsive- a pretty girl, although far from my type." Roderich didn't know whether to be adulated on behalf of Elizabeta or angered by his semi-demeaning comments. Vargas resumed his incessantly pointless, inane babbling, "In any case, your buds have bloomed into gorgeous flowers. They really go well with your garden. I am completely enamoured- say, would it be alright if I took some back to Rome? I dare say they'd add a nice touch to the luscious green of my-"

"Pardon my intrusion, Signore Vargas," Roderich interrupted shortly, twisting around in his seat for the first time to finally look at Vargas through uninterested, half-lidded eyes covered behind rimless glasses, ready to address him face-to-face, "but as much as I appreciate and take pride in your kindly compliments about my dear Edelweiss, I assume that you did not come all this way for idle chatter."

Vargas' painfully forced smile became more strained, the barely noticeable wrinkles around his eyes creasing slightly, "Ah, no. No, I did not." Roderich waited with feigned patience for the man to continue, unknowingly bracing himself for his following words. Vargas exhaled audibly from his nose, his chocolate brown eyes boring holes into Roderich's purple ones, "I have someone I'd like you to meet," before Roderich could question him, Vargas turned his head to the side and beckoned someone over, "Venite, figli."

Two pairs of feet shifted from foot to foot, scuffling forwards ever-so-slowly.

"Venite a me, i bambini." Vargas waved them over, trying to make his voice sound as soothing as possible. Roderich thought it was the very opposite of comforting, however his thoughts did not seem to be shared by his other uninvited guests. Heavy footfalls instantly rushed forwards, and Roderich craned his head back to catch a glimpse of who the mysterious guests were. He was met with a dizzying blur, causing him to blink and readjust his eyeglasses, completely stupefied. He saw a little midget clutching Vargas' right leg with tiny, chubby fists, clinging onto it like a lifeline. There was something else on the other side of Vargas, and so Roderich redirected his gaze to yet another midget, currently holding onto Vargas' arm for dear life. This, however, did not catch the Austrian off-guard; he had clearly heard two pairs of feet, not one, so this wasn't overly shocking. What did surprise him, however, was that it was two little children (not midgets, now that he really looked at them), appearing to be no older than toddlers (which startled Roderich, seeing as they had been so quiet). They were both brunets, with one having a lighter shade of brown and the other a darker one. They each had an odd, unruly curl popping out of their otherwise tamed hair, sticking out on the opposite side of each other. One of them had brown eyes identical to Vargas, while the other child had a lighter shade (although her eyes were squinted, so it was hard to tell). Both of them donned matching expressions of pure terror. One of them, the lighter-haired one, buried her face in the man's right leg while the other trembled at his side. They were both adorned in white.

Countless questions immediately formed inside Roderich's brain as he struggled to grasp the fact that there were two, traumatised toddlers standing shock-still in his music room. There were many questions that came to mind, however there was only a single prominent one that Roderich could not ignore.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Roderich blurted out before he could restrain himself.

"I swear to you, dear friend, this is no joke," Vargas suddenly appeared defensive. Roderich ignored Vargas' little slip-up (he was no friend of his), instead opting to pay attention to what the bumbling idiot had to say, "These are my darling grandchildren-"

"Grandchildren?" Roderich echoed incredulously, his voice quiet (as was his default shocked-voice), "I wasn't even aware you had any heirs!"

Roderich's statement was met with pained, dark eyes staring back at him. "It's complicated." Vargas grimaced, looking incredibly uncomfortable and slightly constipated. Good, "See, Lovino and Feliciana- I found them when they were but mere infants. They'd been abandoned, left outside to die. I took them in out of the goodness of my heart-" Roderich rolled his eyes, "-and have raised them since then."

Roderich gave the children a once-over before remarking disdainfully, "They resemble you."

Vargas gave off a nod, "Yes. It... it is my belief that I am indeed their biological grandfather."

Roderich cocked a sceptical eyebrow, "That's quite the assumption, especially when the only proof you actually have is that all three of you look alike."

"It is more than just appearances that we share," Vargas insisted indignantly, "I feel a bond with her- a bond that can only be shared through familial ties," Roderich pointedly ignored the fact that Vargas had said 'her' and not 'them', "It's difficult to explain; I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Oh?" Roderich squinted slightly, "And why is that?"

"Because your father-" Vargas stopped short as Roderich's eyes darkened ten shades. Roderich glared at him as if daring him to so much as utter another word about his father. The Italian's smile faltered at the cold, stoic expression that the Austrian wore, his eyes being the only thing that revealed his true emotions, purple orbs narrowed with murderous intent.

Vargas coughed awkwardly and shook his head, a little smile creeping up on his surprisingly youthful face, "Never mind. What counts is that I know that they are my grandchildren; that's all that matters."

Roderich stopped glaring (it hurt his eyes...) and didn't even bother with the eye roll this time.

"Even though I have cared for them in the past, I find myself in a bit of a bind." Vargas admitted ashamedly, his eyes flicking down at Roderich as his long arms wrapped around his grandchildren, pulling them in close.

"Do tell." Roderich muttered sardonically. In spite of his usual indifferent attitude towards the world, Roderich couldn't help the spike of curiosity he felt at the prospect of what the oaf had gotten himself into now.

"I am regretful to say that I am no longer able to care for them."

His blunt statement was met with a whimper from the girl- who Roderich assumed was Feliciana- and a mortified shiver from the boy.

"May I inquire as to why that is?" Roderich asked in a bored manner. Everything that came regurgitating out of his mouth was just for formalities, after all. He certainly wasn't intrigued in the slightest. Nope. Not at all.

Vargas' eyes darted from Feliciana to Lovino uneasily, "I believe now is not the time."

So Vargas didn't want his precious grandchildren to know why he wouldn't be able to look after them anymore. Interesting. That could only mean that Vargas had been involved in something more sinister this time. Oh Vargas, Roderich thought with some amount of cruel satisfaction, What have you done now?

Despite his sadistically gleeful musings, Roderich's critical gaze did not leave the Italian for a second, "I see."

"No matter what my reasons for being unable to rear my grandchildren are, it doesn't change the fact that I no longer can. Truth be told, I'm not quite sure of what to do."

"So you seek my guidance?" Roderich sneered tauntingly, enjoying the look of horror that morphed on Vargas' face. He knew that the Italian was much too proud to ask for advice from anyone, let alone someone like him.

What a fool.

"No, it's not that, it's- it's complicated. I can't look after them anymore, no matter how much I want to," Vargas released his tight grip on Lovino to run a hand through his hair. Roderich was still surprised that the children didn't make a single sound. Vargas gestured at his grandchildren and sighed in exasperation, "You see my dilemma here, don't you?"

"I can't honestly say that I can," Roderich replied softly, finding it stunning how much he enjoyed toying with Vargas, "You'll have to elaborate."

Vargas sent him a pleading look. Roderich responded with an amusedly cold one.

"Please. I just need to find them a caretaker."

"I understand that. However, I'm still not quite sure what all of this has to do with me. Pray tell, why did you come here?"

At Vargas' obvious hesitance, Roderich's eyes narrowed. "Is it because you want me to find them a home?" he prompted, "Is it because you want me to lend you money?"

"No, it's not that-"

"Then what is it?" Roderich cut in sharply. He hated acting so impolitely, but his patience was wearing thin. He was bored and he wanted nothing more than for Vargas to get out of his house with his 'grandchildren' and leave him in peace.

Vargas glanced down at Feliciana and Lovino, a guilty expression on his face. His beseeching chocolate brown eyes flicked back up to meet with Roderich's mauve-coloured, unrelenting ones. The elder man parted his lips and uttered, "Feliciana, Lovino; Potrebbe aspettare fuori per un momento? Il nonno non ci vorrà molto."

The two children by his side gripped onto him tightly, the girl releasing a loud wail. Roderich scowled. He watched through unamused eyes as Vargas lowered himself to their level and muttered what he assumed were words of consolation. It seemed to work, as they slowly eased their grip on him and gave little nods of understanding, sniffling as they did so.

How it repulsed the aristocrat.

Vargas glanced up at Roderich, "Is there any way for you to summon one of your maids?"

Roderich resisted the urge to scrunch his nose up and queried, "Why ever would you want me to call for my maids?"

"I need someone to look after the children. I was thinking that we could, ah, continue this... in private." Vargas informed smoothly, his eyes meeting with Roderich's, telling the musician what his words did not.

Cocked eyebrow set firmly in place, Roderich allowed the corner of his lips to twitch up to form a half-smirk, "But of course."

~.~.~.~.~

"So this is why you came to me." Roderich stated blankly, completely devoid of all emotion as he leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the piano keys and cupping his chin, stroking it with an air of thoughtfulness.

Vargas fidgeted slightly (an action which was most idiosyncratic of him), parting his lips to confirm, "It is what I believe to be best."

Roderich couldn't stop the snort of ridicule that escaped him, "You think it for the best to leave behind your precious grandchildren to be looked after by the second son of your rival?" at Vargas' hesitance, Roderich assessed, "You really are a fool."

Vargas glared slightly, and Roderich immediately knew that he had touched a nerve.

He smirked.

"Believe me when I say this, Herr Edelstein, but I know that you wouldn't so much as think of harming them."

"Oh?" Roderich couldn't help the intrigued amusement that he subconsciously conveyed, "And why is that?"

"Because you would have nothing to gain from it." Vargas stated plainly, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

Roderich pointed out, "I would have nothing to gain from taking in your grandchildren either."

"One would think that," Vargas commented, a knowing twinkle in his eyes, "but one would be wrong."

"How so?" Roderich questioned, taking his elbows off the piano keys and placing his folded hands on his lap dutifully, "Do tell me, Signore," the aristocrat leered tauntingly, "What's in it for me?"

"A favour."

Roderich almost burst out laughing.

Almost.

"A favour?" Roderich repeated incredulously, "What favour would I ever possibly need of you?"

"As you are well aware, I am one of the most powerful men in the area," Vargas appeared pensive for a moment, staring out of the large windows that lined the walls of the music room, "And with such power comes responsibility. And responsibility, Herr Edelstein, is something that garners respect. With respect, I am able to obtain favours. And with such favours, I am able to offer some," Vargas smiled, almost bitterly as he noted, "And a favour seems to be exactly what you need."

Roderich stared at Vargas through cold eyes, "Care to be more elaborate, Signore?"

"I'm merely concerned, Herr Edelstein," Vargas allowed a smirk to grace his face as he uttered, "about your financial state."

Roderich's mauve-coloured eyes narrowed into slits, "My financial state is my business and mine alone. Besides," Roderich tilted his head upwards, sticking his nose up in the air, "I have money."

"Really?" Vargas feigned surprise at his answer, smiling with mock-warmth, "Because I've heard otherwise."

Roderich glowered in derision, "What you may or may not have heard is of no concern of mine, the fact remains that I am in no need of your money."

Vargas shrugged nonchalantly, "Suit yourself. However, if you are perfectly happy with what you have now, then you always have the option to call in another favour," Vargas' facial expression suddenly morphed into a deathly serious one, and the man tilted his head to look at Roderich, "This is a reasonable bargain, Herr Edelstein. Do not make the foolish mistake of turning it down."

"A single favour in exchange for rearing two bastards not of my blood, a reasonable bargain?" Roderich echoed incredulously, "Pardon me, Signore, but I don't think much of your reasoning."

Vargas proposed, "Well, think of it this way: if you want no one to find out about what really happened to your dear brother, the late Gilbert Beilshmidt, then I suggest you take me up on my offer and be done with it."

It seemed that Vargas, too, seemed to be running out of patience.

Unable to think of anything else to say, the usually sharp-witted aristocrat corrected, "Half-brother."

"Oh, that's right, I am terribly sorry. Your half-brother." Vargas amended, smirking triumphantly. "Yes, should you want to keep his death a secret, then you can always accept my proposition."

"Resorting to blackmail, Signore? How low you have sunk..."

"It is indeed regrettable that I have to resort to such things, but it seems to be the only thing that could make you see sense. As much as I hate to admit it, I am growing rather desperate-"
"Then find someone else," Roderich interjected brusquely, all traces of feigned courtesy gone, "I am most certainly not suited to cater to the whims of mere children-"
"I can think of no safer place for them. Think, Roderich," Vargas implored, ignoring Roderich's disgust at the informal use of his name, "You are the last remaining heir to the Beilshmidt fortune, which will all be yours in due time, and a very influential one at that. Here, they would be safe under your surveillance, with no potential enemies able to step foot upon your land. I cannot fathom a more secure place for my grandchildren to grow up in." Vargas informed, "You have to take them in. Otherwise... well, let's just say the consequences will be severe."

"Is that a threat, Signore Vargas?" Roderich inquired, the facade of amusement masking his annoyance.

"It's a promise."

"Hmm," Roderich hummed, "And what if I were to, say, sell them into slavery as soon as you were gone? Dump them? Mistreat them?"

Vargas seemed at a loss, and Roderich felt temporarily triumphant, until he replied, "You could always hand them to the care of your maids. All you need to do is see to it that they're fed, healthy, and educated."

Roderich leered, "I don't need to do anything," his eyes narrowed slightly as he reminded, "Keep in mind that I have not yet accepted your proposition."

"But you will." Vargas assessed knowingly.

"How are you so sure?" Roderich queried, squinting at him, "Because frankly, I have no intention of doing so."

"Even after what I said I'd do concerning your half-brother?" at Roderich's glare, Vargas smirked, "Yes, I thought you might find that troubling."

"What happened to that feeble-minded idiot was his fault and his alone. I had no part in it."

"Ah, so you are still in denial," Vargas smiled bitterly, "How quaint."

"Listen Vargas, I am having trouble understanding why you are so adamant in forcing me to look after your burdens," Roderich promptly changed the subject, "The least you could do is tell me why."

Although startled at the swift change of subject, Vargas readily answered, "I already told you. You could provide them with safety-"

"I meant why you are giving them up in the first place."

"That... is classified."

"Oh? So you expect me to provide asylum for them for goodness knows how long without knowledge of why I'm doing it?"

"Precisely."

"That's absurd!" Roderich protested.

"Herr Edelstein, perhaps the day will come when I will be able to reveal my reasoning for being absent in their lives, but that day is not today."

"If that is the case, then I believe this conversation is over."

"So you'll take them in."

"No, I won't. In fact, I won't even consider the idea," Roderich turned back to his piano, dismissing, "I trust you can find your way out."

Vargas frowned, "You're serious?"

"Very much so." Roderich glowered, daring Vargas to contradict him.

Vargas awkwardly cleared his throat, conceding, "Very well. If that is your decision," Vargas made his way towards him, giving him a pat on the shoulder, "I'll let you think it over."

"There's nothing to think over-"

"And we shall resume this conversation after dinner. Herr Edelstein." Vargas bowed mockingly before making his exit, leaving behind the musical aristocrat to ponder over his final words.

"Dinner?" Roderich whispered to himself, his eyebrows creasing into a light frown.

What did Vargas mean by 'dinner'?

A knock on the door interrupted his musings, his face morphing into a scowl, "Come in."

"Herr Edelstein?" a feminine voice petitioned curiously.

Roderich visibly relaxed, "Fräulein Hédérváry?"

"I just came to tell you that dinner will be ready soon."

Dinner...?

But that meant-

Roderich's eyes widened.

Fuck.

A/N: Pretty lame ending, I admit, but I hope it was decent enough for a first chapter. If people are interested in reading more, I'll be sure to continue this and update on a regular basis. Constructive criticism is much appreciated, as is any kind of review.

Translations:

Venite a me, I bambini- Come to me, my children

Venite, figli- Come, children

Potrebbe aspettare fuori per un momento? Il nonno non ci vorrà molto.- Do you think you could leave for a moment? Grandpa won't be long.

Sorry if any of the translations are wrong. I've only recently began studying Italian and may have a bit of trouble with it. If I made any mistakes, please feel free to tell me.

Have a nice weekend~!