Sorry for the wait guys! I had end of year exams. They are now over and I am free to secretly doss around until the start of the summer holidays, when I can then openly doss around :P

I hope this chapter is satisfying. I'm really hoping to hurry this along, since I know what the end will be, but I'm not quite sure of the fuzzy stuff in between now and then.

This chapter contains a childbirth scene, but not graphic or anything. I think if you're old enough to be reading this, you're old enough to have an idea of what giving birth entails...


Chapter 7: Personal

adjective

relating to, directed to, or intended for a particular person
intended
for use by just one person


August

Fierce winds and rain howled around Basch's castle. The sweltering heat of the day had given way to a heavy summer storm in the evening. The brother and sister sat in their cosy library – Basch was on a couch, reading a thick book about the history of pistols (his not-so-secret hobby) and Lili was curled in an armchair adjacent to him, wrapped up in a thick blanket and an adventure story. Her cup of hot milk sat on the table between them.

Just when the rain seemed to be abating a little, there was a loud boom! that the siblings could almost feel. It didn't sound like thunder. Lili looked up from her book worriedly.

"Big brother, what was that?" She could guess, but wanted confirmation.
Basch shut his book with an angry snap and sighed deeply.
"They've been at it for whole year, and for what?" he mumbled, before glancing over to his sister. "It sounded like artillery. It's the soldiers in their trenches, near the border."
"It sounded so close," Lili shuddered. "We're definitely safe here, aren't we?"
"Of course!"
"That's good to know," she smiled, relaxing now that she had Basch's promise. Of course, if anyone knew whether they were safe from the gunfire, it would be him.

Basch wasn't reading anymore, he was staring into the middle distance with a slight frown, his mouth turned down. Another boom! sounded, and he blinked, eyes focusing again.
"Big brother?"
"Sorry, Lili, I was just… thinking."
"Big brother, why are you neutral?" Lili asked, sudden curiosity striking her. She'd never thought about why Basch insisted on being neutral in any military matters in the Great Kingdom, but now she wondered.

"It's a long story, and it's late," he replied shortly, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
"Maybe you could shorten it for me?" Lili pushed gently. She really wanted to know.
"Well… oh, alright." Basch relented. He opened his book to quickly fold down his page, and placed it on the table, beside Lili's cup.

"After Mother and Father passed away, and I came to power, my first priority was for us to be safe. Any allegiances, while having benefits, will ultimately lead to clashes because other people are too stupid to think before they start a fight! Also, since I was quite young, I felt as if… as if everybody was waiting for me to fail. So I realised that neutrality is the safest option because no ties to anyone keeps you isolated and safe. I could also prove that I was able to survive on my own."

"Then why aren't you happy?" asked Lili, stifling a yawn.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't mean any offence, big brother, but if we are so safe, why don't you enjoy it?"
Basch closed his eyes, remembering what had happened mere hours before they left Deutschland.

"Leaving so soon?" Basch passed Antonio in one of the many hallways, while the blond man was on his way back to his chamber, just to check that he had all his things.
"Yes," Basch replied shortly.
"It's a shame," sighed Antonio. "I think Ludwig really needs your help."
"You've all given generously," snapped Basch, "and personally I think this war will be over in a matter of months anyway. They have nothing to fight about."
"But grudges are the things that people remember the longest, and who knows that Francis has against Ludwig?"
"Shouldn't you know? You were friends with him, weren't you?"

Antonio ran a hand through his hair, eyes sad.
"After the Autumn War – you remember the Autumn War? About fourteen, fifteen years ago? – anyway, after that, Francis wasn't the same. He was… I can't explain it, but he wasn't so carefree and fun anymore. So we drifted apart, and now look where we are." Antonio threw his hands up in a gesture of resignation, a wistful smile on his face. "Fighting each other. That's why I envy you a little, Basch."

"Envy me?" Basch frowned. "Why should you envy me? You have a large amount of friends, a good wife, a rich land, and a magnetic personality. Why would you envy me, of all people?"
"Because you are neutral," replied Antonio. "Me, I like to be on everybody's good side, but it's impossible when you have alliances. That's why I want Ludwig to be discreet about the soldiers I send him; I want to stay on everybody's good side, for better or worse. But you, you will never have to fight against anyone, and I envy that."

"Antonio is trying to have it both ways. He helps Ludwig for the sake of his wife and what should if Ludwig should win, but at the same time, he wants to be protected if Ludwig doesn't win.

"It's true, I will never have to fight against anyone," mused Basch, "but I will never fight with anyone either. I will never know whether it is worth the sacrifice."

Basch yawned loudly, and looked over to his sister. "Do you – oh."
He smiled softly, for Lili had fallen asleep. He stood up, brushed down his clothes, and gently lifted her, still swaddled in her blanket, into his arms. As he carried her to her chamber and lay her on her bed, he realised that it was her questions that made him actually think about the path he was forging, and ponder about whether it was the right one.


September

"Thank you for joining me, gentlemen," Francis started, nodding to Arthur and Lars, "oh, and lady." Bella smiled sweetly, not offended, seeing as it was a rather alien concept to have women in official meetings.

"I believe this meeting will be a stride forward in our progress in this war, and –"
"Get to the point, Francis," interrupted Arthur rudely. "This bloody war has made absolutely no progress in the past six months, except for thousands of men dying and an amount of ugly trenches marring the landscape of the borders between them and us."
Francis chuckled. "Always the straight man, aren't you Arthur?"
"The irritated man," corrected Arthur, scowling. "Citizens in the west of my kingdom have started protesting, saying that too many men are going for a war they have nothing to do with, and frankly I can see their point."

"Protesting? What do you mean by protesting?"
"Marches, rallies and such."
"They haven't burned anything down? Gone on strike? No riots?"
"No…"
"Then they are fine," Francis waved off indifferently.
"If it takes arson and rioting for you to change something your people don't like, I shudder to think of the state of your streets!"

"Instead of fighting," said Lars, in his deep and rather slow voice, "why don't we get on with the meeting?"
"Well, why don't you tell us about Nederland?" asked Arthur, turning to the siblings. "What do your citizens think about this war?"
His tone of voice made it perfectly clear what answer he expected.

"Hm." Lars sat back.
"Well…" Bella looked thoughtful, but slightly uneasy.
"They don't complain," stated Lars.
"Of course, there is now a shortage of farm labourers, so women have started to work the land," said Bella, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. "But I think we're doing fine, for now."
"So you can hold out for a while longer?" asked Francis brightly.
"Oh yes," agreed Bella. "A few a good eight weeks, at least. Perhaps four months."

Francis looked alarmed.
"Just four months?"
"At best," clarified Lars.
"Are you sure?" Francis ran his hands through his hair. "That… isn't very long."
"What do you expect?" demanded Arthur. "They're just fighting and dying, for the sake of fighting and dying! We don't know what your aim is, Francis! What is your aim?"

Silence fell. Francis massaged his temples, rubbing the fingers of his left hand over that small scar over and over.
"You don't even know your aim, do you?" asked Arthur in disbelief. He stood up, and paced about the room, evidently thinking about what to say next. Bella's green eyes followed him, while Lars closed his eyes, breathing deeply.
"Okay." Arthur stopped, and turned to Francis. "Why did you start this war?"
"I don't want to talk about it," replied Francis quietly, knotting his fingers together.
"Well tough luck, we are your allies!"
"It is a personal matter," snapped Francis.
"And I am the person you must tell!" yelled Arthur, running his hands through his hair furiously. "If you don't tell me and Lars and Bella, how can we trust you?"

Bella and Lars watched their allies argue, quiet but worried. An awkward silence fell over the room as all eyes were on Francis, waiting for his answer.

"It just felt like… something I had to do," he finally sighed. "It feels like, for the past fifteen years, something has been telling me that this is just… the thing to do. Do you understand?"

"Something has been telling you? Are you having hallucinations?" asked Arthur sharply, with none of the delicacy that surrounded the topic of mental illness.
"No! Just, inside my head."
"Voices inside your head?"
"No… it's as if the idea of starting a war has been there for the past fifteen years completely normally, like the idea that my name is Francis. Do you understand now?"
"So, it's as if this… idea has been ingrained," said Arthur thoughtfully, his anger gone. "Now that you've fulfilled this idea, can you not just surrender, end the war and tell Ludwig that you weren't in your right mind?"

"No!" Francis looked panicked for a split second, before composing himself once more. "Without this war, I feel that… I'm not myself. That there has been a lie inside my head for half of my life."
"…Alright."
"What?"
"I'll support you," said Arthur, his expression considerably softer. "This may be a leap of faith, you frog… but I'll support you."


October

"Felicita, you should go and rest," said Ludwig worriedly. His wife just smiled – but it was taut and far too bright.
"I'm fine, perfectly fine," she said sweetly. She rested a hand on her swollen belly, rubbing it gently, and placed the other over her mouth to stifle another yawn. "Do go on," she said to the Head of the Council, whose face was set in an expression of disapproval, with pursed lips and a wrinkled nose.

"As I was saying," he huffed, in a whining, nasal voice, "before I was interrupted –"
"Please make allowances for the Queen," sighed Ludwig, somewhat annoyed that his head politician was so chauvinistic and rude. "She is pregnant, after all."
"In my opinion, the best thing for a woman in the family way is to remove herself from matters of such importance," sniffed the Head. Ludwig frowned at his very obvious patronising air, but Felicita sat up and said, "I promise, I won't make any more noise. Baby, stop keeping me up all night," she cooed to her bump. The Head rolled his eyes.
"As I was saying –"

This time he was cut off by a short scream, followed but a string of Italiano curses and a thump. All heads swiveled to the door.
"What now?" muttered the Head irritably, but even he looked concerned.

Meanwhile, Felicita's face had drained of colour – her tanned complexion now had a sickly grey undertone.
"Lovina!"
She heaved herself up and flung open the heavy door, her husband right behind her.

Lovina lay on the stone floor, clutching her arm, from which an arrow was protruding. Blood was blossoming slowly in the green fabric of her gown around the wound.
"Lovina!" Felicita screamed, throwing herself to her knees beside her twin, who was rapidly losing consciousness. Three guards from further down the corridor came running, and two knelt beside Lovina.
"There is a note attached to the arrow," said one, pulling the Italiana queen's hand from the injury. He pulled to note from the arrow and read it silently, eyes wide. The final guard stepped closer to the open window.

"This was closed before. I think she was shot when she opened it."
He stood directly in front of the window, and the second he pulled it shut, another arrow embedded itself in the wooden frame. The guard leapt back with a curse.
"Take her to her chamber!" ordered Ludwig as the taller guard hoisted the unconscious Lovina into his arms. "And send for the physician and Antonio!"

Felicita was crying, but her sobs were growing louder and more hysterical.
"Someone tried to kill my sister!" she shrieked. "Some tried to kill Lovina!"
Suddenly her breathing hitched and, wrapping both arms around her stomach, she wailed even louder.
"The baby – !"
The baby? Ludwig snapped into action. He lifted Felicita to her unsteady feet and called for servants.
"Escort the Queen to her chamber! She has gone into labour!"
"Sire, this is exactly why I believe that women have no place on the council," said the Head, appearing at the King's side, tutting at the sobbing Felicita.
"Be quiet!" barked Ludwig. "You have overstepped the mark! It is not your place to say anything of the sort to a ruling monarch!"
"All I meant was –"
"Be gone!" Mumbling apologies, the Head was sent scurrying back to the Council Chamber. Ludwig breathed out contentedly – he had wanted to do that for a long time – before running to catch up with the maids who were leading Felicita down the hall.

Once Felicita was settled onto their bed, which two maids were hurriedly spreading extra sheets on, Felicita's closest waiting-woman ushered Ludwig out into the corridor.
"Now your Majesty, this is no place for a man," she clucked. "Go and occupy yourself, we'll be done by tomorrow morning, hopefully."
"Tomorrow morning?" Ludwig asked, surprised and sure that he had misheard. "Does it take that long to deliver a child?"
The waiting-woman laughed. "Sometimes longer! Now go, you'll see her Majesty and your child soon."
As he strode down the hall, the tingly feeling of anticipation beginning to creep up his throat, one of the guards who had found Lovina stopped him.
"This note for you, sir," he said quickly. "It was attached to the arrow."
"Yes, thank you," Ludwig replied, not concentrating and pocketing the note unthinkingly.

Ludwig went straight to his older brother's chamber. By tomorrow, he would be a father! He knocked on the door, and when he heard the grandiose voice call, "Enter!", he opened the door and stepped inside.

Gilbert was sat his desk, leaning back in his chair, reading a letter. When he saw Ludwig he quickly folded the paper and slipped it underneath a pile of books.
"Luddy!" he grinned. "What do you need from your awesome older brother?"
"Felicita has gone into labour," the King replied, he deep voice decorated with nerves and excitement.
"That's awesome!" Gilbert jumped up and thumped his taller brother's shoulder. "Where's Antonio? We need to get you a drink!"
"He's probably with Lovina." Ludwig stopped suddenly. "Oh my God, she was shot!"
"What?"
"Lovina was walking past a window less than ten minutes ago, and she was shot in the arm with an arrow!" Reaching into his pocket, Ludwig drew out the note. "This note was attached to it."

Ludwig unfolded the small slip of paper, and his blood ran cold as he read the three words.

End this war.

Oh God. His people were so angry with the war that they tried to kill his sister-in-law? Oh God, that meant he was a bad monarch. They were trying to overthrow him. He had put his whole family in danger by fighting against Francis.

Gilbert snatched the note and read it.
"It was just some fanatic, I'm sure," he shrugged off. "Nothing to worry about! Now, let's get Antonio!"

They reached Lovina and Antonio's chamber just as Antonio stepped out into the hall. He looked stressed and slightly pale, but still smiled at them.
"How is she?" asked Ludwig worriedly.
"Oh, fine!" replied Antonio cheerfully. "The arrow came out cleanly, and she's asleep now."
"What else is wrong?" Gilbert asked, eyes narrowing slightly at Antonio's uncommonly troubled expression.
"Lovina! She -" Antonio stopped himself, then rolled his shoulders back, relaxing. "She's strong, she'll get through it." Brushing away him personal concerns to help Ludwig and Gilbert, he continued with, "So, what do you need?"

"Felicita's gone into labour!" cheered Gilbert, slapping Ludwig on the back proudly. "It's so awesome that he needs a drink!"
"Oh, how amazing!" beamed Antonio, clapping excitedly. "Let's go!"

Ludwig was taken to the main parlour, drinks were called for, and he was settled onto a couch and Gilbert and Antonio chattered around him.
"Have you thought about names?" asked Antonio eagerly.
"Well, Felicita likes the name Luciano for a boy. For a girl, we think Hanna is a pretty name."
"I can just picture a Luciano," laughed Gilbert, "with Felli's eyes, and brown hair all pushed back like you, Luddy!"
The two older men chortled, and drained their glasses, while Ludwig sat between them, feeling rather out of place.

"I remember when you were born," the white-haired man said, rather reminiscently. "Me, Tonio and… Francis… pretended to play in the corridor outside Mother and Father's bedroom, just so that we could hear you being born!"
"We had no idea how it happened, of course," chuckled Antonio.
"All we knew is that Mother was shouting and screaming, we thought she was having a temper tantrum!"
"Then we heard higher cries, and Gilbert shouted, "That's my new brother or sister!" and ran into the room, only to be pushed back out…" Antonio sighed contentedly, before frowning. "Wait, wasn't Felicita 20 weeks pregnant in July?"
"Yes," replied Ludwig.
"Would that only make her about 30 weeks now?" the suntanned King asked confusedly. "Can babies survive at only 30 weeks?"

Ludwig felt as if the bottom of his stomach dropped out. What if the baby didn't survive?

"Babies survive being born early," said Gilbert loudly. "They're awesome like that!" He grinned widely at his brother, who looked significantly more reassured.

He didn't mention that he'd never heard of a baby surviving such a premature birth.


Lovina awoke a little over an hour later. The first thing she noticed was the dull ache in her forearm, and the second was that her sister wasn't in the room – she would have expected the silly woman to be crying and making noise. Not that she didn't welcome the peace! It was just a little odd.
"Oh your Majesty, you're awake!" A maid scurried to her bedside with a hot drink.
"Where is Felicita?" she tried to say, but it came out as more of a mumble.
"She's gone into labour, madam."
"What?" Lovina sat up instantly, winced at the pain triggered by the movement, and tried to get out of bed. "I have to go to her! She'll be a wreck without me there to support her!"
"Wait, madam…!" Before the maid could stop her, Lovina was out of bed and running down the corridor in her nightgown, to her sister's chamber. She threw open the door, entered and slammed it shut again. Felicita was lying on the bed, sweating and sobbing, face red. Several maids and a midwife were clustered around her, bathing her hot skin and reassuring her.

"Big sister!" gasped the younger twin, reaching feebly for Lovina before crying out as another contraction hit her. Lovina jostled through the maids and knelt next to her sister's bed, taking her hand.
"Go on, Felicita, you can do this," she urged. Felicita nodded, and grimaced as she wailed again, long and loud.
"It hurts!"
"Of course it does! But when it's over, you'll have a baby." As much as she disliked Ludwig, Lovina wanted her twin to be happy, and if being married to the stupid potato and bearing his children made her happy, so be it.

"She's crowning quickly," said the midwife, examining Felicita. "This is one of the fastest labours I've ever seen," the middle-aged woman admitted. "It is probably a lot more painful that your average childbirth."
As if on cue, Felicita let out a pain-filled screech and gripped Lovina's hand with a force that shocked the elder twin.
"Go on, Felli!" said Lovina encouragingly – well, as encouragingly as she could. "Break my hand if you have to!"

Lovina lost track of how long she knelt there, knees slowly going numb, as Felicita screamed at the top of her lungs, on and on. In reality, it wasn't very long before she heard the midwife call, "One more push, your Majesty!"

She watched Felicita grimace, and draw a deep breath to push as hard as she could, letting out a long shriek as she did so. Out of the corner of her eye, Lovina saw the midwife and maids huddled around the child, but couldn't hear what they said. All she knew as that at last, the baby was born.

"Well done, Felicita," she breathed, kissing her sister's clammy forehead. She stood up, letting out a low whistle at how much her legs ached, and turned to the midwife.

"What gender is it?" she asked. The midwife looked up from the infant's face into Lovina's eyes, with deep sadness written all over her face, and Lovina understood with horrible clarity.

The room was completely silent, aside from Felicita's laboured breathing. The baby didn't cry.

"He was a boy," whispered the midwife. The baby was stillborn.


A huge crowd was gathered outside Lord Roderich and Lady Elizabeta's First Castle in Österreich. They were visibly worse off than they had been the previous year – thinner, with more threadbare clothes. Yet they watched their monarch, who was maneuvering the rickety wooden steps of his makeshift stage. The people were both shocked and proud that even Lord Roderich's clothes were out of fashion.

"My people," he called, across the crowd. His voice was sad, but strong. "I know that these last months have been hard. I know that this year's harvest has been as disappointing as last year's. I would understand if you should want to give up.

"But, giving up is not the way forward. To work our way out of our problems, we must lean on each other as we climb the ladder. I assure you that we will rise out of these problems as strong as ever, but we must support each other."

A murmur of assent rippled through the crowd, and people nodded in agreement.

"The Lady Elizabeta and myself have been feeling your pain," he continued, looking down briefly before once again, facing the crowd. "We feel guilty that the rations have been dwindling, and feel that it was our fault for not foreseeing that perhaps the rations might have had to stretch for longer than we hoped."

He took a deep, slightly shaking breath.

"About the war: if we cannot manage sending soldiers and surviving at the same time, we will pull out of the war. Österreich and Magyar come first."


" – and that was how I made an enemy out of Lord Toris!"
"Well, generally, if you shove someone off a horse and break their arm, then stand over them jeering and insulting them, they don't think of you very highly," sighed Ludwig, with a slight smile. Usually he would have found Gilbert annoying by this point, but he was too excited about the baby – and the alcohol he had consumed definitely made the world look brighter.

"Your insults are brutal," chuckled Antonio. "Do you remember when you pushed King Arthur into that lake?"
"That was the funniest thing in the history of history!" Gilbert cackled.
"He hates you too," mused Antonio. "Lots of people hate you, Gilbert."
"Only because I'm too awesome for them!"

There was a knock at the door, and all three men turned to see who it was. A footman stood in the doorway.
"Your Majesty, the child has been born." Gilbert scrutinised the man's face, and saw none of the happiness that heralded the birth of an heir. It was straight and deadpan. Coupled with the fact that the baby was very early… the prince felt his heart sink, and hoped that Ludwig wouldn't be too upset.
"Thank you!" The blond King leapt up and all but ran out of the room, making his way to the chamber where his wife and his baby were. His heart pounded, and he felt a grin spread across his face. He was a father!

When he got to the room, he didn't know what he was expecting, but something seemed a little off. Felicita was lying in bed, tears trickling down her face. This must have been just because of the childbirth, of course… Ludwig had been told it was extremely painful. Lovina was sitting in a chair beside her, stroking her twin's hair and looking surprisingly melancholy. Ludwig couldn't remember a time when she hadn't looked at least a little angry. The midwife stood against the wall, holding a small bundle, and a couple of maids were holding baskets of laundry, tidying the room. They curtseyed and hurried out as he entered, leaving him alone with Felicita, Lovina and the midwife.

"Where is the baby? Is it a boy or a girl?" asked Ludwig expectantly. Lovina stood up, brushed off her skirts and made for the door. When she reached Ludwig, she sighed, and looked up right into his face.

"Marianna is on her way," she said, her voice calm and sombre. "I'll have a chamber made up. Oh, and Ludwig –" her eyebrows dipped into a small frown, "it wasn't Felicita's fault. So don't you dare make this her fault."
She left the room, leaving Ludwig wondering what it was that wasn't Felicita's fault, and why their older sister was coming to visit, and when was the last time Lovina had ever called him by his given name and not some variation of 'potato'.

"The baby is asleep, isn't he?" He must be, thought Ludwig. That would be the reason that the child was so silent. The midwife sighed, and held the bundle closer to her chest. She was fair-skinned, with mousy brown hair and blue eyes, and while she was taller than Lovina, she wasn't a giant.

"Sir, you may want to sit down," she said in a soft voice, gesturing to the chair that Lovina had just vacated. Puzzled, Ludwig did so. "I'm going to give the baby to you now," she continued quietly, stepping towards him, "and I'm very sorry, but these things do happen sometimes."
"Is the baby ill?" asked Ludwig worriedly, holding out his arms for the child. The midwife shook her head, and placed the baby gently into his broad hands.

Ludwig looked down into the face of the child, swaddled in blankets, and his breath hitched. The face was so tiny and perfect: a bow-shaped mouth, closed eyes round and framed with pale eyelashes, smooth skin. Smooth skin, pale with a tinge of grey.
"I don't understand…" Ludwig choked back a sob, feeling tears prick in his eyes. "Why is his skin so grey?" He knew, deep down, but he didn't want to admit it.
That would be giving up on his firstborn.

"I'm very sorry, sir, but during the birth the umbilical cord tangled around the baby's neck. This lead to stillbirth."
"Is it a – a boy or – a girl?"
"He was a boy."
"Luciano." Ludwig gulped down his tears, wiping a hand across his face while still supporting that slight little body in his lap with his remaining hand. "Oh, Luciano."


I'm sorry! But you now, sex + no reliable contraception = pregnancy, so I had to find a way of reflecting that without bringing OCs in too early.
As always, reviews are greatly appreciated~

Oh, and I'm sure everyone knows about the Diamond Jubilee. Guess where I'll be over the bank holiday? Germany! :P Going to do all the touristy stuff in Berlin. We're going now so that my parents don't have to take any extra days off work. I'll be writing during flights and stuff, so you might get some oneshots next week!