A/N: Alright, I've decided on how I'm going to do this. The first half of each chapter will be a diary entry type of thing from Ludwig's point of view, and the second half I'll just write like I normally do. I'm aware that some (if not all) of the characters maybe be sort of OOC, but it would be kind of hard to make them IC in this fic, with what I have planned and all... I might attempt to make them a bit more IC in later chapters, if possible. I'm not sure how long this will end up being... But for those of you who don't know the plot of Theresia: Dear Emile... It gets kind of dark, very violent, and maybe a little disturbing as the story progresses. While this fic may not follow exactly with the story line of that game, it's still going to get pretty depressing. Well, here's the first chapter. The word count is 2,600 words or so, so it's much longer than the prologue. I hope you enjoy it. :D

Warnings: Mentions of torture, more blood (briefly).

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or Theresia...

Chapter 1: Love is Such a Vulgar Word

The church had a basement, I discovered from listening to the adults converse. It was built a very long time ago, before even the priest was born, as a prison for sinners. A dark, light-less place in which people would pray for forgiveness. It was so much more than a place to pay for your crimes; it was a place to pray. A place of atonement. Some sinners even went there of their own free will... They would come to the church every day and pray for forgiveness in the dark cells deep under the stone floors of the church. Even though the subterranean prison was rank with the smell of blood, to the sinners, it was sanctuary. The dark, rust-colored walls comforted them, and the coppery smell put them at ease. But time passed. Eventually war came to our country, and the church fell under enemy control... The basement prison had become a military base, and its purpose had changed. As I was left to live live in the church, my brother took his station in the basement, torturing enemy captives to his heart's content.

My brother lived and worked as a torturer in the new underground base beneath the church. Whenever my brother had time off from work in the underground base, he would come to visit me at the church. He would pick me up and carry me to the large alter that stood on the far side of the main room. There he would stand, with me in his arms, and sing to me a strange lullaby in a language I did not understand, softly petting my hair until I fell asleep. Anyone who happened to witness this scene was likely to believe that my brother thought of me more as a pet, or a toy, than a son... But I knew better. My brother cared for me, he loved me. Even though he never smiled, even though he never talked much, even though I had never once heard him tell me so... I knew that my brother loved me.

And, as always, that smell... That smell of fresh blood and death would follow my brother up from the depths of that basement. Soon, I too, would smell of blood I knew. But I didn't mind in the least. It was a smell that I associated with my brother, and was therefore very comforting to me. It made me feel safe, as did everything I related to my brother, like the red flowers that seemed to grow almost overnight in the fields surrounding the church, or the bright lights that filtered down from the ceiling through the stained glass window there, and that scratchy voice that sang to me in unintelligible words, a lullaby so soothing...

Yes. As I grew older, slowly mastering speaking and walking, these things comforted me.

The soft thuds of tiny footfall seemed to echo in Ludwig's ears as he ran down the long hall, on his way to the main room of the church to play amongst the rows of wooden pews. He didn't have any toys, nor did anyone else who lived there, and he wasn't allowed to leave the church, so most of the time he just had to make use of his imagination to keep himself entertained. Now, he was planning on doing just that, but... Ludwig stopped short of the doorway that lead to the main room. The priest was in there... He seemed to be talking to one of the friars about something, and Ludwig could just hear the conversation from his place by the doorway. Should he listen...? Well, he definitely couldn't go into the large room... His brother didn't seem to like it very much when Ludwig talked to people, even those from the church. On the other hand, he had been told many times by Father Toris (as he learned was the name of the priest who looked after the church), that eavesdropping was bad... But... His curiosity got the better of him most days anyways, and he'd much rather anger the kind priest than his dear brother. He leaned closer to the doorway to more clearly catch the words of their conversation.

"It really is quite a shame..." The voice was familiar to Ludwig's ears. This must be Father Toris speaking, he thought briefly before returning his attention to the conversation.

"I must say that I agree, Father... Such terrible things going on under the church... It's just not right. Those rooms were not intended to be used the way those soldiers are using them." The second voice seemed to sigh. The voice of the friar... Ludwig peeked around the corner in time to see the friar shake his head sadly. There were many friars that resided in the church, Ludwig had trouble remembering their names since he didn't really speak with them, but... He was almost sure this man's name was Kiku. He could remember the name because of the friar's strange accent.

"There is really nothing that can be done for it... It would be wrong of us to drive them away, especially with violence. They must be allowed use of the basement prison..." There was a short pause, and then Father Toris continued. "They will one day have to pay for their sins... After this terrible war has come to an end, they will leave us. We must simply be patient."

Basement...?

"Yes, I suppose you're right, Father, but... How are we supposed to sleep soundly, knowing what is going on down there, right beneath our very feet...?"

Brother works in the basement...

"It is something that we must endure... A test of sorts, you could say."

Brother visits me... From the basement, where he lives... Why can't I visit brother...?

"But the screams... Those terrible screams... That man..."

Ludwig heard no more of the conversation. Quietly, he turned and walked back along the long hall, deep in four-year-old thought. His brother hadn't been to visit him in a few days, and he missed him greatly. The door that his brother always left through whenever he had to go back to work... Did it lead to the basement? And what did they mean by "terrible things"? Was he allowed to go into the basement? No one had ever told him he couldn't go down there... Would he get into trouble? What was down there that was so upsetting to the preist and friar? Did it smell like his brother down there? The questions burned their way through Ludwig's young mind, and it didn't take long to decide... He had to see for himself.

He turned once again and walked back to the main room. Upon walking though the doorway, he noticed that the friar was no longer present, but the priest still stood near the alter with a look of deep concentration upon his face. He heard Ludwig enter the room, and looked up to see who it was who had entered, but he gave no indication that he knew of Ludwig's earlier eavesdropping. Even if he knew, Ludwig doubted he would say so. The priest was a kind, if somewhat nervous, man. And although the Father was the one who had taken care of Ludwig's needs, before Ludwig could even walk, when his brother was working and couldn't do so, they rarely spoke to one another. So Ludwig ignored the priest as he walked across the large room, to the hallway on the other side. This hallway wasn't as long as the other, and it ended in a door at the far side. The door his brother disappeared into whenever he had to work... He had never really been so close to it. It was made of a dark wood, and had this odd foreboding sensation about it. Steeling his suddenly active nerves, he grabbed the handle and turned, pulling the door open slowly and staring... Down. There was a narrow, stone staircase behind the door, and it was very dark. Letting go of the doorknob, he took his first tentative step down, squinting to better see in the almost complete absence of light. But he didn't get very far...

As Ludwig's small foot lightly touched the seventh step down, the shrill scream of a woman split the silence, causing Ludwig to flinch in surprise. The sudden movement disruppted what little balance his four-year-old legs had learned, and he began to fall backwards. Everything seemed to slow down, and the young boy braced himself for pain. He'd fallen enough to know how much it hurt... Any moment now, his head would hit the stairs a few steps up, and a sickening crack would echo off of the walls of the dark passageway, Ludwig would-... But the impact never came, as Ludwig found himself caught in midair by strong arms, just inches above the step that would have cracked his skull open. He looked up... Into the blank face of his brother. Into deep red eyes that seemed to pierce his very soul. Without the slightest hesitation, Gilbert set Ludwig back on his feet, grabbed him none to gently by the arm, and practically pulled him back up to the safety of the church. When they reached the top step, Gilbert lifted Ludwig up and held him tightly, stepping up into the church and closing the door. Ludwig's mind was racing. Was he in trouble? Would his brother be angry with him?

Gilbert said nothing to confirm or dispel Ludwig's worry, and his face remained as impassive as ever as he carried the small boy to the alter in the now-empty room. He stopped there, and simply stared at the stained glass of the windows, seeming to forget the child he held for a moment. His face shifted a bit, for once, and he looked at Ludwig, not saying a word... Ludwig couldn't place this expression. There was no smile, not even a slight twitch of the mouth, but... His brother looked... Kind. It was something in his eyes, he thought. After a long while, Gilbert finally spoke, putting to use that oddly pleasant, scratchy voice of his.

"You're interested in my work." It wasn't a question, but his brother continued to stare at him expectantly, as if waiting for a reply. Ludwig grew a bit uncomfortable under that stare, and finally spoke.

"Yes...? I..." Ludwig's words trailed off as he thought. Was this an invitation to ask questions? Would his brother mind if he asked about his job? It was worth a try. After all, Gilbert wouldn't answer if he didn't want Ludwig to know. Summoning his courage, he continued. "What is your job, brother? What do you do down there for so long?"

Gilbert looked back to the windows, tilting his head a bit. "What I do...? It's art, little Ludwig, simply art. I'm an artist of the most interesting kind... I interrogate. I am a torturer." He said in what sounded to Ludwig like a loving tone of voice. But...

"What's a 'torturer'...?" The small boy asked, his brow scrunching up in confusion over a word that his young mind couldn't place a meaning to.

Gilbert didn't hesitate in his answer this time, eager to explain the beauty of his occupation to to the boy in his arms. "I hurt people, Ludwig. I make them talk, make them tell me what I need to know. Things that need to be said... I make them tell me. I show them that they need to say such important things, not keep them hidden. Because I care, you know... I make them happy, they need to talk to be happy, and I show them how much I care through physical sensation... And sometimes I take them away from this world, I free them..." He let his words trail off, staring intently at the windows, as if seeing his victims there, in complete, beautiful agony.

Ludwig didn't respond. He didn't completely understand what Gilbert was saying, but he didn't mind at all. He had never heard his brother talk so much... His ragged voice was so soothing, and he practically basked in the sound. Ludwig rested his head on Gilbert's chest with a content sigh, and began pinching the fabric of his shirt, making it crease where the blood had soaked it. Ludwig no longer minded the blood that almost constantly stained his brother, nor did he mind the smell of the slippery, red substance. That smell, and the red color, would lull him to sleep on many nights. It was his brother'ssmell, and he cherished both it, and the sense of safety it brought him. As he relaxed against Gilbert's chest, he felt movement. Gilbert walked over to one of the pews, and sat down, setting Ludwig in his lap. He cradled the small boy to his chest and stroked his hair softly as he began to sing that strange song.

Ludwig felt his eyelids droop at the sound of the soft singing. The soothing sound of his brother's voice... For years he had heard people talking, about his brother and the pet child he'd brought home from the battlefield. Everyday they gossiped among themselves, spitting harsh words and anxious worries. Their hateful comments didn't seem to faze Gilbert, but they were very hurtful to Ludwig. How dare they say that his beloved brother would hurt him? His brother wasn't a monster... His brother loved him, he cared... Right? Surely, he... He had to... But Ludwig wasn't so sure...

"Brother...?" He murmured from his place on Gilbert's lap. His brother didn't answer him, only shifted his gaze from the windows to Ludwig's small, worried face... So Ludwig continued. "Do you love me, brother...?"

Gilbert's mouth turned down in a frown the slightest bit, and he blinked a few times. "... Love? Why would you say that?" Gilbert asked in a low voice, and grimaced slightly. "Love is a vulgar word..." He said, returning his gaze to the windows, his face once again becoming unreadable. Ludwig thought about those words... Love? Vulgar? But how could it be vulgar...? Love is such a beautiful emotion... How could it be associated with a word such as "vulgar"?

But then, his thoughts were interrupted as Gilbert looked back to him from the windows that seemed to captivate him so much, and spoke. "You... You are only to talk to me. Do you understand, Ludwig? Because you are my son... This bond is only for us. Only me... I forbid you to talk to anyone else." His voice, while not stern, seemed to carry a thinly veiled threat.

"... Yes, brother. I understand." Ludwig agreed immediately. After all, Gilbert was everything to him... As long as he had his brother he didn't need anyone else. As long as brother was happy... He could live with that. He wrapped his arms tightly around the silver-haired man who he cared so deeply for. "I love you, brother..." He mumbled sleepily, eyes sliding closed.

Gilbert kissed Ludwig's head and nodded. "I know you do, I know..." He said, looking to the ceiling to hide the slight smirk from Ludwig's view. "Only for me and you, Ludwig... Always." He mumbled under his breath as he heard Ludwig's breathing even out and relax as he fell asleep. Gilbert looked back to the windows once again, but he didn't see the stained glass at all... No. It was something completely different that held his attention so raptly... Those bright red flowers that covered the field... Oh, how beautiful they were, that lovely red hue that looked so much like... Like blood. And in that moment, unbeknownst to the child sleeping soundly on his lap, his mouth twitched into the unfamiliar shape of a small smile.

"So beautiful."

Edit: Replaced "bruder" with "brother", fixed a few typos.