Author's note: Thus begins the emo portion of the story.

Tizenöt:
Five things Austria and Hungary shared with the world,
Four moments they kept to themselves,
Three times they said nothing,
Two times Hungary needed Austria,
And one time Austria did something about it

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

Three times they said nothing

12 November 1918

Let them take the land. Let them take all her land, she didn't care anymore. Didn't have the strength to. They could take everything, burn Budapest to the ground, as long as they let her stay with her husband.

Elizabeta sat at one end of the table with Francis; she wasn't sure if she was suppose to be grateful, but he was being kind to her, always had been. She didn't know why.

"Sign here," Francis whispered, leaning in and pointing to somewhere on the page that had been pushed before her. Officials muddled about next to them; some where hers, most were the victors'. She had worn the nicest dress she had left, intent on showing the world that she might be defeated, but she still had her pride. Years of being led by others had sent Hungary down a path Elizabeta barely recognized, yet she was still a country to be reckoned with.

Across the long table Roderich sat between Arthur and Alfred, who were much more forceful in their demands for his signature. He signed each line with a lazy hand, as if this was any other day, any other meeting. His officials were fighting more fiercely than hers were, but Roderich signed everything that was put before him with an uncaring ease.

Let them take it all, just let her keep Roderich. Tears silently rolled down her face, but Elizabeta made no attempt to wipe them away. Nothing mattered; she didn't care what anyone thought, just let her stay with Roderich. Please, please. Let him look up, let him smile at her one more time. When would they see each other again after this? When would they be able to next talk, to hold hands? She remembered the last night they spent together, the passion in their love making, the desperation in him that she couldn't quite understand. He must have known, Roderich must have seen it coming. But he had always tried his hardest to protect her, to keep her from the hard reality. He didn't have to, Elizabeta didn't need to be protected. But he always did so, anyway.

Because they had been in love.

"Please," she whispered, still watching Roderich, who refused to meet her gaze, staring at a spot on the table. Francis put an arm about the back of her chair, leaned in and pointed at another spot. If he was trying to be subtle, she missed it. If he was trying to shield her tears from the others, trying to make this easier on her, then he could stop. Nothing mattered anymore. Fuck the world, fuck them all. Just let her have Roderich. "Please…"

"Elizabeta," Francis said, "I know this is hard, but please, just sign here. I swear, this will be over quickly, but we can't let you leave with him. You have to know that."

"I. Don't. Care."

It was his sigh that caught her attention, made Elizabeta finally look at the exhausted French nation. Her eyes widened taking him in, recognizing the way he moved as trying to protect his injuries from further damage.

Francis's eyes met hers and she held him there, taking each other in. "Elizabeta," he said again, the sadness still there. "I know you love him, but it has to be like this. Soon enough you can be together again."

She shook her head. "How long will you make us stay apart before we can be together?"

The hand that had been pointing at the page fell from the table, found her leg, where he squeezed. "I don't know. But this isn't easy for anyone."

Any other day, she never would have let someone touch her like that. In her lap her hands played with her wedding ring, the diamond heart a symbol of their undying love. "It was never suppose to be like this," she said to herself.

From her leg the hand moved to still hers, one of Francis's fingers twirling the wedding ring around her finger so that the diamond and emeralds were pointed inward. "Don't let them see and I won't take it from you. He's almost done signing, be quick and maybe you can catch him in the hall…"

Elizabeta reluctantly took the pen that Francis offered, signed the papers. It was the last paper that was the hardest, the one for their divorce. She looked up to see Roderich push his signed copy away. Their eyes met for a moment, and she tried to send as much love and affection to him as she could.

But Roderich was dead on the inside. She couldn't see any of that life she knew was in him, any of the fire in his soul; it had all been extinguished. He had signed the paper without hesitation, without protest. Arthur and Alfred shook hands behind him before Roderich stood, slowly, heading for the door.

There had never been a choice, but she could have one last goodbye. Elizabeta hurriedly signed the page, Francis quickly moving aside as she raced for the door. Behind her she didn't see Arthur make to stop her, Francis gesturing to let her go.

She caught up to him in the hallway, his back to her. "Roderich!" she shouted, chasing him down, holding her skirt in her hands so she could move faster. He paused at the sound of name, but didn't move to look at her. "Roderich!" she grabbed his arm, stood before him, tried to look into his eyes one more time. She could hear men shouting down the hall to separate them.

Without making eye contact, he pulled his hands from Elizabeta's grasp. She expected him to leave then, but he surprised her with a tight hug, too tight to make her believe that he was ok. She made to wrap her arms around her, to make this moment go on forever. She had promised him forever.

Then he pushed her away, her back making contact with the wall. She slid down it as Roderich watched her, shaking his head. His tone was flat, no love in what he said. "Goodbye, Elizabeta…"

And he left.