A/N: Okay, I have good news and bad news.

The good news is: you get two extra chapters! :D

The bad news is: Prussia's appearance, as well as the multi-nation action I have planned, is getting kicked back to Chapter 23. D:

This happened because, originally, I was going to have this sequence with Germany and Lithuania be a lot more brief, a tidbit comfortably fitting into the multi-nation chapter. It's taken from an online roleplay I did with my best friend, and not only did I vastly underestimate how large it would be when adapted from roleplay format to story format, the more I re-read what we had written, the more I realized that cutting a good 70% of the content would greatly lessen the emotional impact. Yet even cutting far less than that it is still too big to be one chapter ( if I wasn't going to split it up, I shouldn't have split Chapters 17, 18, and 19 up either ), so two chapters it is.

Full credit for all of Lithuania's dialogue and actions ( for these chapters only! ) goes to my friend, who gave me full permission to reproduce the material here. She wishes to remain anonymous, and indeed told me I didn't have to credit her at all, but I just can't. She's too wonderful a person. :') Thank you, J. I really appreciate this.

Speaking of online roleplays, if anyone out there is interested, I am the admin of an advanced-literate historical Hetalia roleplay hosted on Invisionfree. Visit my profile for the link — many canons are still available! Right now we especially would love to have a RUSSIA. I play Germany on the site, and portray him exactly as I do here ( in fact, my threads on there often reference events in this story, and vice-versa ).

Also, for the record — because I know some readers will look at the date and wonder — no, for whatever reasons, Ludwig hasn't learned about Pearl Harbor and America's official entrance into the war yet.

Chapter 21

December 8th, 1941
Berlin, Germany

"Please! Please don't!" The words haunted him like ghosts, echoing forever in his memory, replaying without warning whether he was awake or asleep, "We'll run away! No one will ever know! God, Ludwig, please! You're not like them! You're better than this!"

Damn, why did they have to do that? Why?!

For the last two days Ludwig had been trying to take his mind off it, been trying like crazy to forget and focus on other things. His job. His duties. Looking out for the well-being of his citizens. But everywhere he looked he saw them; desperate and terrified, they would be crouched in the corners of houses and in the alleys between buildings, or lying on the floor or ground dressed in scarlet. Sometimes he would catch a glimpse of the top of a small head sporting neatly-combed black hair right before it ducked behind a countertop. Breath hitching and heart beating faster, he would go over to investigate only to find nothing.

Always nothing.

It was always the worst at night, when the phantom pangs that had been gradually increasing in frequency and severity for the past two years or so were more prone to striking. At bedtime he usually had too much on his mind to go to sleep right away, and that's when the images loved to come to him. They would appear in more vivid detail than in the day, adding mental pain to physical. Last night they had even crept into his dreams.

Walking briskly, he tried again to focus on his beautiful countryside: how pretty everything looked covered in pristine white, the crisp crunch of snow under his boots. The sun was low and shot like blood on the horizon; it would be dipping behind the western hills within the hour, taking its warmth with it. Venus shone like a white-hot ember in the glow.

Usually an uninterrupted, quiet walk through nature in scenic conditions such as these had a relaxing, mood-enhancing effect on Ludwig. But this time even the setting sun's gorgeous fiery display and the soothing sounds of the wilderness alive all around him could not lift his spirits. Never before had he felt so depressed, angry, guilty, frustrated, humiliated, and powerless, so utterly shaken to the core. Never before had he questioned himself or his people.

Over the last two weeks he had begun to question everything, and the more he did, the worse he felt.

The more he learned, the more he wished he didn't know. Ignorance really was bliss — that was why he couldn't be happy these days. He knew too much, and it was crushing. So many families would have cause only to mourn this holiday season. Because of his Führer, his Nazis, and him.

He could see his house now, and the shed not far from it where he kept his own personal stash of weapons, ammunition, explosives, tools, machine parts, and other things of that nature.

His house…it would be warmer in there.

Or maybe not, knowing Lithuania.

Ah, but he could always build up the fire. A warm drink — perhaps spiced cider, hot chocolate with rum, or tea — sounded really good right now. He broke into a full-tilt run, eager to put the cold behind him, blotting all else from his mind.

Faster, faster…

He came to an abrupt halt in front of the door. Though he half expected it to be locked, it opened easily enough when he tried it. Unfortunately his suspicions about the temperature proved correct.

Toris, you masochist. he sighed inwardly, swiftly shutting the door behind him. The outer part of his gray SS uniform was as frost-bitten as the outdoors, but taking it off when then the house felt like this was out of the question. Pulling his hat down a little more over his head, he took his icy black gloves off and began rubbing his hands together for heat, pausing every few moments to breathe into them.

Where was that Baltic of his? It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

The Lithuanian had been here recently — of that there was sound evidence. His house was spic and span. The kind of spic and span that, along with the pleasant smell, told him the other country had only recently finished cleaning.

"Litauen!" A glance into the living room failed to turn up his servant, so he strode into the kitchen, figuring it to be the next most logical choice, and where he needed to go anyway to make his drink.

There was Toris, sitting on the floor with her knees drawn up in front of her, all curled into a corner like a little mouse with a cup in her hands.

"There you are," With a twinge of embarrassment Ludwig realized that his tone lacked its usual commanding quality — his relief at having discovered his Baltic safe and sound right when he needed her was paper-thin. He quickly regained himself. "What are you drinking?" He came over and peered down into the cup. It looked — and smelled — like some kind of tea.

A sharp pang flared up in his left shoulder, causing him to wince and inhale shrilly. I'm not even going to think about that….

"Black tea..." Lithuania faltered guiltily. Slowly, as though frightened to make any sudden movements, she uncurled herself and stood up, long, thin fingers wound firmly around the mug she held, leeching its heat. Caution swept her pale, expressive face as she studied her master, likely trying to assess his mood.

"Why is it freezing in here?" Ludwig demanded, agitated. "You know that I almost can't tell the difference between inside and outside? It's great that you're comfortable living in an igloo, but I'm not. Build the fire up!"

"Sorry, sir...I..." Toris set the tea down on the kitchen counter with a start and shoved her hands, red and chapped with cold, into the pocket of her apron.

For the first time it struck Ludwig just how tired she looked, how unwell. There were dark semi-circles under her eyes, like she hadn't slept properly in days. Her skin had taken on a bit of a sallow hue, and though she wasn't skin and bones she definitely looked like she had lost a little weight since he had last seen her, which was worrying since she had been underweight even then.

At the very first moment Ludwig thought that she might be running herself ragged out of fear of him making a surprise visit home and being furious at everything not being exactly as he wanted it — years of living with Ivan had turned her into a nervous wreck — but he then he quickly remembered that there was much unrest, carnage, despair, misery, and hatefulness in Lithuania these days. Confined and isolated in Berlin under a government that kept the grisly details of the German occupations out of the local newspapers and radio broadcasts, Toris probably wondered a great deal about what was going on in her borders. More than likely she was experiencing chronic aches and pangs on top of a prolonged cold. Definitely she knew that something was wrong, was alarmed by the emotions she was experiencing.

"I wasn't sure if I was allowed to use up your coal and...and I didn't know that you'd be home or I would have..." The smaller nation trailed off and mumbled another embarrassed apology under her breath. With a faintly fearful air she grabbed the coal bucket which stood beside the furnace and rushed to carry out the order, leaving the kitchen and heading outside for the coal bunker.

If he had been in a better frame of mind, a thin smile would have graced Ludwig's face. That's what I like about you, Toris. You're so agreeable. However, recent events had made it all but impossible for him to smile, even halfheartedly. He set the now slightly damp woolen gloves down on the counter, right next to Toris's tea.

It was still steaming: the water used to make it must still be pretty hot. Sure enough he went over to the stove and felt heat emanating from the kettle without even having to get his hand very close.

Perfect.

He reached into the cupboard where he kept his cups, glasses, and steins, and retrieved a big, thick, white mug. It was different from every other mug in his cupboard, and not for the first time as he held it, he wondered a little about where it had come from and how it had ended up in his possession. Not that it mattered, really, but it was weird that he didn't remember.

"The kettle's just boiled if you want tea."

Although he heard them just fine, the late invitation barely registered in Ludwig's mind. He was aware that his servant had returned to the kitchen and was moving in a rush behind and around him, but her actions blurred into triviality in the background. She was just there. With a slow nod that Toris likely didn't even see he reached into an adjacent cupboard and found his stash of teas. He was not, by any stretch, a heavy tea-drinker, but he did like a cup every now and then, when the mood struck him. At the moment black or green were the only options.

He decided to go with Toris's choice and grabbed a bag of black. Setting bag in cup, he listened halfheartedly as the little brunette went on about warming the living room up for his comfort while he poured the water. She was trying to be pleasing and helpful, and he really did appreciate it, but he had too much on his mind to attempt conversation or even make small talk.

If only I had kept my mouth shut, he thought, then mentally chastised himself for thinking that yet again. He had leveled that same criticism against himself many, many times within the last 48 hours. Reflecting on what he might have said and done differently never helped, and inevitably only made him feel worse in the end.

For a few minutes he merely stood frozen in the corner where two countertops met, staring into his tea like a zombie, trying and failing to push unwanted thoughts and memories from his mind.

Happily informing him of their plans to kick their mass genocide into high gear, forcing him to murder his own citizens in cold blood, reminding him of the very real possibility that his humanity could be slipping away from him while making it painfully clear that this was what they so desperately wanted for him, to erase all distinction between him and the Nazi party…as if all of these weren't bad enough, his High Command just had to go the extra kilometer and humiliate him on a whole new level to serve their agenda, give him yet another reason to hate them.

All he could do was hope their plans failed and he didn't wind up fathering even one child via artificial insemination, a child he wouldn't even be allowed to visit, most likely, let alone take any part in raising. As an extra slap in the face, not only was Heydrich aware he'd been forced into the breeding program, he'd asked for — and been promised by Hitler — Ludwig's first son.

Hearing that any children created would be totally human and unwaveringly loyal to Germany above all others hadn't fazed anyone. As Himmler had so indelicately put it, even without his supernatural powers and attributes Ludwig was still the purest and healthiest Aryan of all, and he would still be one of the strongest and fittest German men alive — the ideal form of the ideal form. Never mind the fact that Hitler had declared him sick in the head and insisted that his blood was polluted by all the undesirables still living within his borders, and that every single one of the people in favor of pimping him out like a champion show dog had agreed with this assessment. Ludwig had of course been quick to point this out, and that was when his fellow High Commanders had finally revealed to him that, when they spoke of his blood as being diseased and polluted, they were referring to the collective blood of the German people. The scientists studying the blood from his human body had confirmed it to be pure Aryan. His Großer Ariernachweis(1) was in no danger of being revoked. As for his mind, either they knew in truth that he was not mentally ill, or they supposed that the mental illness he had was a special kind totally removed from genetics.

In reality they were just choosing to believe what they wanted to believe. Since Ludwig lacked biological parents the favored method of determining ancestry and blood purity through birth certificates, marriage certificates, and baptismal records could not be applied to him, and on the microscopic level so much about DNA and genetics was still poorly understood, to the point where Ludwig secretly wondered a little as to whether his scientists had been mistaken when they had concluded that no Jewish blood at all flowed through his veins. It was possible that a trace amount did; after all, Jews had lived in his land at the moment he had taken his first breath, and the magic that had created him could have given him some of their genes. Because of the way he looked he doubted that it had, but he had to concede that it was possible.

In any case, the rest of the High Command were absolutely convinced of his Aryan purity, and Hitler and Himmler both wanted him to sire as many children as possible.

Thank God the odds were on his side. No odds at all would have been best, and he was a little worried that fate would roll the dice against him, but for now this worry was a mere housecat sitting on the back of the elephant that was the combined bulk of all the other worries and emotions weighing on his mind, just one more sack of cow pats to throw on the massive manure pile.

He could hear Toris working at the fireplace in the living room. Though the kitchen was at the moment marginally warmer, the lure of the soon-to-be roaring fire was too much to resist. Tea in hand, he turned around and was met with the sight of the other nation pausing in the kitchen doorframe, her face, hands, and apron covered in a fine powdering of soot.

"Are you alright, Ludwig?" Toris asked, her tone and mannerisms strongly reminiscent of a small prey animal, "I mean...that is...can I get you anything?"

Ludwig shook his head. "No. I'm not alright. And thanks, but this tea is enough."

Toris blinked, though whether she was startled by his frankness or the fact that he didn't want anything else he couldn't tell.

Sweeping past her, Ludwig went straight for his favorite armchair. After a day like today it felt good to sit down. He wrapped both hands around his mug, enjoyed the warmth that shot instantly through his fingers and palms. After a few seconds it became too hot, and he switched to gripping the mug by the handle and resting it on his leg.

For several long seconds he stared off blankly into the fledgling fire as though hypnotized by it.

So many thoughts racing through his mind…

His eyes shifted to Toris, still hovering about in the threshold, wiping the soot from her hands with a dull red handkerchief.

The little Baltic was a pathetic slip of a nation. She was weak in every sense of the word, submissive, cowardly, and crazier than a shit-house rat where her love-life was concerned. But she was also kind, polite, unassuming, and usually — from what Ludwig could tell — honest. She and he weren't exactly friends in the traditional sense of the word, but she was good company.

And she was in no position to be judgmental.

"Toris?" He took a sip of tea while he tried to think of a good way to phrase the questions he was about to ask. "Have you ever done anything so horrible that the guilt from it ate away at you from the inside, haunted you both in your dreams and while you were awake? Have you ever doubted yourself or your people?" His tone was solemn, his face heavy with sadness and fatigue. "I'm very concerned about my future," he continued softly, and his gaze fell to the floor. "I'm going to either win or lose this war. And right now — and I hate myself for this — I'm not sure which I want."

The revelation shocked Lithuania; for a few moments all she could do was stand and gawk at him, unbelieving, handkerchief dangling absently from her hand.

Ludwig didn't blame her: he could hardly believe he was talking this way himself.

The reaction was short-lived. Toris's good manners and meek nature quickly reasserted themselves, and, after first slipping back into her usual deferential composure, she found the courage to come up and perch on the edge of the settee next to him. Rather than look at him, however, her gaze fastened instead upon the flames growing rapidly in the fireplace. She had a faraway look in her eyes, the hallmark of deep thoughts…and memories. She took a long time answering.

"Terrible things happen in war," she said at last, her voice quiet and sincere. "Horrific things. It's partly why I don't like to fight anymore. But you're not a bad person, Ludwig. You're a born soldier, but I don't believe that you're cruel with it. Whatever you've done...whatever's eating away at you...I find it hard to believe that it's irredeemable. I just don't think you have that side to you."

"You'd be surprised." Ludwig said darkly, raising the mug to his lips and taking another sip.

Or would she?

Did Toris truly believe what she was saying, or was she only saying it to please him, put him in as good a mood as possible in order to make her own life more comfortable? After all, it wasn't like she was living as a servant in his house by choice. Conquering her people had made him her boss. Due the fact that his human identity had never been granted the official title of the position and was not recognized as such by the masses he could not force her to bend to his will with magically compelling commands the way his boss could him, but he was her boss all the same, and she knew that she was completely at his mercy, just as her people were at the mercy of the German government. She had a million reasons to verbally agree with everything he said, tell him whatever she thought he wanted to hear.

She leaned forward and fixed him with an earnest gaze, green eyes shining brightly in spite of the exhaustion which hung about them. "You don't normally talk like this." Her head bowed slightly. "It sounds like something really bad has happened. And...um...maybe it's not my place to say, and I really apologize if that's the case, but...sometimes it can help to tell someone." She cleared her throat softly. "And you can talk to me if you like."

Ludwig turned his head and stared once again into the fire, mulling the offer over. He had never been keen to discuss his own personal problems and insecurities with anyone if he could help it, even for the sake of lifting a weight off his chest. But he had already let a lot slip. Way more, he realized, than he would have if he didn't want to talk about it.

Perhaps it would do him good to confide in Toris. If nothing else, it always felt good to vent, and Toris wasn't an active part of the war effort, so he didn't need to worry about staying strong for her sake. Besides, he realized, the two of them actually had quite a bit in common right now.

His decision made, he reached into the right-hand pocket of his trenchcoat and retrieved the medal he'd shown his boss earlier. The little piece of metal was only very slightly warmed from having been outside, and it stung his fingers with its chill, but he held it out anyway in front of Toris. "You see this? This is the medal of an accomplished Russian sniper." He began to play with it, rubbing his fingers along the edges and turning it over a couple of times. "This particular man killed many of my men and shot me twice; both of those shots sent me to Hitler. For five months I hunted him down whenever I could. I finally caught up with him and killed him a couple of weeks ago." He paused, staring thoughtfully off into space.

"I enjoyed it." he continued in a quieter voice, his tone calm and factual, "Both the hunting and making the kill. He was pretty challenging for a regular human." He stared deep into green, tired eyes. "It's not the war itself I have a problem with. I'm a war nation. The challenges, the thrill, constantly being on the move…conquering new lands and people, the strategy involved…I enjoy it. If it weren't for war, I wouldn't even exist. I was born from one of Prussia's victories, and I'm proud of that fact." He took a quick breath. "A lot of bad things do happen during wars yes. People die. Even innocent people, if they're in the wrong place at the wrong time. Civilian casualties happen — I've learned to accept it. But what's happening right now…" He shut his eyes, tried to think of how in the world he was going to break this to Toris. "What's happening now is something I can't accept."

There they were again. Trembling, pleading…

His eyes snapped back open, haunted shadows fleeing across them. He shoved the trophy back into his pocket. "Toris…my boss doesn't want to just relocate all the Jews, he wants them dead. My people have been mass-murdering them for several months now in staggering numbers — hundreds of thousands have already been killed. German Jews, Polish Jews, Lithuanian Jews…it makes no difference. We have entire task-forces dedicated just to that purpose: they sweep into a secured area and ruthlessly hunt down and shoot almost every Jew they see, even infants and small children."

Toris's eyes went as wide as saucers. What little color had been in her face disappeared like water down a drain until nothing but the ashen whiteness of horror-struck shock remained.

Ludwig knew the reaction all too well, knew exactly what was running through the little brunette's mind. For several seconds the revelation hung in the air between them with a horrific, heavy silence as he waited for her to process the information, find her voice again.

At last pale, bloodless lips parted, and Toris managed a quiet, mortified whisper. "Hundreds...of thousands...?" She wrapped her arms around herself and bit down hard on her lower lip. "You're...killing them? My people...Feliks's people..." Her voice grew louder and higher in pitch as mild hysteria began to set in. "Your own people...?!" She covered her mouth with her hand and stared at him in sick horror. "Why...?" she demanded, her voice muffled.

Ludwig surrendered a soft, weary sigh. "That was my-"

"Vilnius. There are two hundred and sixty thousand Jews in Vilnius alone. Families...civilians..." Toris had removed her hand from her mouth, and now she sucked in a deep, labored breath. "Oh God…Oh God I think I'm going to be sick..."

Though his countenance and posture remained fixed in the likeness of subdued solemnity, inside Ludwig winced. Toris was reliving his own reaction down to many of the same thoughts in a more extreme, less dignified fashion.

Without warning the Baltic slid from her perch on the arm of the settee and went down on her knees in front of him. Ludwig had no time to react or even think before the smaller country seized his right hand with a strength that was startling. "Is it true? Is this why it hurts so badly? Because you're killing my children?!" She shoved Ludwig's hand against her chest with the same vigor Ludwig would put into striking the head of a venomous serpent, surprising the German with how much her grip hurt. "They're not even your enemy." she went on frantically, "They have nothing to do with your war. I have nothing to do with your war!"

The outburst carried the stench of truth.

Ludwig lowered his head and stared at the floor, his expression approaching stoic resignation with guilt-laden, helpless sorrow shading the edges of his mouth and eyes. "I know." he said calmly, the words heavy on his tongue.

Toris released her death-grip on his hand and shrank back against the settee. At last, the realization broke on her, and, in a much quieter, calmer voice than she had used moments before, she correctly identified the biggest root of Ludwig's misery. "He's making you kill your own people too. Not just mine. Yours too. You don't have a choice...do you?"

"No, I don't." Germany answered flatly, lifting his eyes from the floor to meet Toris's gaze. He drew his right hand into his lap and pressed it up against his half-drunk tea, siphoning what warmth he could out of the cooling mug. "I know perfectly well that the Jews are not my enemy. More so than everyone thinks. I've had Jewish friends. I've seen firsthand how wrong my boss is about them. They're not subhuman. Not wicked. Not trying to destroy me, tear me down, or turn me communist. That's all a load of bullshit Hitler's been selling to unite my people in hatred against a scapegoat 'enemy', securing his power and being seen as my savior in one stroke. Unfortunately, too many of my people didn't ask questions when it was still early enough to do something, and by the time I did it was too late. His power over me was absolute." He paused to draw a breath. Cast his eyes again thoughtfully to the fire.

"At first, I thought he was going to be a great boss. Not perfect, but just what I needed. Sure, he had some stupid ideas about the Jews and some other harmless minority groups, and his sanity was at times questionable even back then, but I liked so many of his ideas and proposals, especially where my armed forces, economy, and that ridiculous Treaty of Versailles were concerned. I thought he would make me great — that the good he would do would by far offset any bad. I supported him in his bid for power. When he did away with my former government and installed his own, I welcomed the changes. Mostly. I never did like the way he treated my Jews, even before I knew how bad they really had it. But I figured it was a small price to pay for greatness, so I kept quiet and obediently did whatever he commanded of me, the way a good country should."

He took another quick sip of tea, then shifted his gaze back to Toris. "Everything was fine until last week when I stopped by Ponary on the way home. There had been an explosion in the underground tunnels, so I took the lead of an armed expedition to discover the cause and secure the area. That's where I found a friend of mine dying. She'd been shot at least once, and smashed under some rubble that had fallen in the explosion." He paused briefly, then continued, his voice taking on a slightly mechanical tone. "I didn't know she was a Jew until she told me. She also told me what was happening to the Jews: how Ponary had turned into a mass-killing site where the SS Einsatzgruppen rounded up Jews from Vilnius and other regions — but mostly Vilnius — and brought them there. How they made hundreds at a time march to massive pits, remove all their clothing, and line up along the edges where they were shot in." He sucked in a deep breath and shook his head, disgusted with those men, his Führer, and the whole situation. "My reaction wasn't too different from yours. Her dying wish was for me to go into the Vilnius ghetto and rescue her two young children." He let out an incredibly brief, utterly humorless chuckle. "She must have been desperate to trust me. We didn't even know each other that well — I call her a friend, but really she was more of an acquaintance."

Tears had come to Toris's eyes somewhere in the course of his bleak tale, and now she succumbed to her nervous habit of hunching up into the smallest package possible. "Paneriai…"(2)

What? Ludwig had heard that word before, in Vilnius, but its meaning presently escaped him.

"Oh God...it's true...?" Toris wound her arms more tightly around her legs and shook her head over and over again, still in a state of shock and confusion. "Why aren't my people stopping them? Why is there no resistance?" She looked directly into Ludwig's eyes right then, and the German could see the desperation, the despair and confusion which swam within her own. "The Lithuanian people are resisting against your men, against the murders...aren't they? Tell me they're not letting this happen..."

Toris, you're not going to like the answer to that. "Lithuania —"

"Did you find them? The woman's children? Did you go to Vilnius? What's happening there?"

Ludwig finished up the last of his tea, setting the cup down on the floor next to the side of his chair. "The Vilnius I visited isn't a place you would remember, or ever want to see. All of your Jews are being forced to live in a single boarded-off ghetto with only one way in and one way out, both of them tightly guarded. They work there as slave-labor in terrible conditions. The ghetto is overcrowded and filthy. Everyone's starving and miserable, living in a state of constant fear." He shook his head slowly, shoving the memories aside. "It's bad. It was bad even for me, and I wasn't even in for more than half an hour looking for those children."

"You saved them, though?" Toris's voice was so small, tinged with a worried hopefulness. "You saved them?"

Ludwig sighed and reached up to lightly massage his temple. "Yes, I saved them. I found them right as they were about to get on the train to Ponary along with a load of other Jews. I had to rescue the five-year-old from a Lithuanian who was going to beat him to death…"

Lithuania's eyebrows flew up at this statement. She began shaking her head. "You mean —"

"…Then I had to make up a story about why I needed them. Thankfully the only people with the nerve and authority to question me weren't there." Ludwig brought his hand back down and gazed at Toris wistfully, his expression softening. "I hadn't planned on staying overnight in Vilnius, but I couldn't take a pair of children with me to see the Führer. So I got a room and let them stay with me. I washed them up. Fed them. Bought them new clothes. I arranged for them to go live with their cousin in America and stayed with them right up until Alfred himself came and took them. I don't know what became of them after that." He looked away. "I…I hope they're doing alright," he said awkwardly, his voice much quieter, almost as though he were admitting to something shameful. "I kind of like them."

Arik and Nessa…as long as he lived he'd never forget them.

But rescuing the children was the one glittering story in a sea of black tragedies. Even the good he felt now reflecting on it did almost nothing to improve his mood.

The fire had grown bigger now. Warmer. The heat from it had already begun to melt the ice on his coat and hat. He turned his face back towards it, not caring to see Toris's reaction to his next words.

"The Lithuanians are not resisting for two main reasons. One is because they know it would be suicide. My people have complete control over the area. Any non-German who sets a foot out of line is shot. The other is because, ever since occupation began, they've been all too eager and willing to cooperate with every demand we make. All the Lithuanian Jews that have been killed so far? We couldn't have done so many so quickly without help from the local militia." Throughout this, his tone had been very candid — almost emotionless. Now it took on a muted but unmistakable tenor of sadness. "It's not just Nazis who are brutally attacking, beating, and murdering Jews. Your people are doing it too."

"Užsikišk!"(3) Toris cried out in anguish, and Ludwig knew he'd just heard the sound of her heart breaking, "Please, Germany,"

The Nazi shut his eyes, braced himself for the onslaught of strong emotion that the trembling, pleading pitch in those two words warned of.

"Why are you saying all these things? Did I do something wrong? Are you punishing me?"

What?! How could you think that? The innocent questions, carried by such a tiny, forlorn voice, flew past all of Ludwig's iron defenses and pierced his heart with a stinging arrow of guilt. His eyelids shot open and he turned to face Toris at once, his conscience forcing him to look, to take in the sight of a horrified, colorless face wrought with grief and hopelessness.

"No! No, I'm not punishing you!" he said quickly, his voice rising in volume and taking on a slightly frantic, awkwardly apologetic quality.

Toris began shivering violently, as though the temperature in the house had dropped below zero, and for a moment Ludwig wished he had not been so brutally honest with her, that he had blamed the lack of Lithuanian resistance solely on the superiority and ubiquity of the German military and had left it at that. But how could he lie to Toris when he was in the same predicament as her, when he knew this pain?

Releasing the truth had, in a very small way, made him feel a little better about himself: his people weren't the only ones out there ruthlessly mass-murdering innocent, harmless civilians. He felt less alone in his misery.

"Please, please tell me you made it all up! My children wouldn't...they're..." The Lithuanian blinked and swallowed, her pale features miserable and haunted.

Ludwig shook his head. "You asked a question and I answered it. I answered honestly. Not because you were bad, but because I thought you wanted the truth. That is why you asked, right?"

Toris blinked, her face washed out with an eerie, blank misery. "Oh God...m..mano vaikai ..."(4) she whispered, utterly heartbroken. She continued to shake like a hairless dog caught out in a Siberian snowstorm.

Ludwig could stand it no longer. He had experienced a hell of lot of emotionally-charged moments in the past seven days — more than he had in the entire past seventy-some-odd years of his life, he'd be willing to bet — and seeing Lithuania like this now threatened to break his heart even more than it already was. He had to do something. Rising out of his seat, he started for the other nation.

"What do I do?" Toris asked, her voice hoarse and quiet, "You're good at giving orders. C...couldn't you tell me what to do?"

Ludwig knelt down on one knee in front of her. Awkwardness fluttered about his features as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

This sensation…it felt strange and a little uncomfortable, but in an oddly nice way, the way comforting the children had felt.

"I can't," he said softly, "There's nothing either of us can do. What's happening now…I hate it as much as you. It's heartbreaking. Cruel. I don't even like to see my enemies suffer like that — it's hard for me to stand by and watch my own people act so monstrous, knowing that I can't command them to stop without being branded a traitor and severely punished." He gave Toris's shoulder a couple of gentle pats. The motherly Baltic seemed like the type to take comfort in a bit of friendly physical contact. "Your people are just scared, Toris. Scared enough to do anything to ensure their families' survival. Nazis have a pretty frightening reputation, especially the SS that stay behind when most of the Wehrmacht clears out. We…" He hesitated.

No, that word wasn't right.

He began again. "they…look for any excuse to kill. Some of them really get off on the beatings and killings, the thrill of the hunt, on playing God and deciding who lives and dies. The others do it out of hatred and fear. And…" his voice hitched, and he exhaled a soft sigh, closing his eyes momentarily, "I know that probably wasn't very comforting. Sorry. It's the best I can do."

Toris nodded silently, a mournfully hopeful expression rolling over her features.

Ludwig pulled his hand away and stood up. The tiniest, saddest smile appeared on his face as he nodded his head towards the settee. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable on the settee? I've got something that will help." His voice was a little warmer than before, slightly more upbeat. Turning quickly, he headed for his bedroom with hurried, striding steps.

I have just the thing to help with that shivering. Entering the frigid icebox that was his room, he pulled open his closet and grabbed the big white blanket sitting on top of all his other bedding. It was a feather blanket, very thick, warm, and soft. It was a permanent feature on his bed during the winter, when he was home. When he wasn't he liked to keep it put up, just in case something somehow jumped up onto his bed and ruined it.

Okay, so maybe that was a slightly unfounded fear since his dogs hadn't lived here in a while and weren't due to move back anytime real soon, but better safe than sorry, right?

Blanket in-hand, he exited his room, closing the door solidly behind him to seal out the Arctic chill. As soon as he reached the settee he tossed the neatly-folded bundle onto it and moved to stand in front of the fire.

"Do you need me to wash it?" Toris blurted out.

What? Ludwig turned his back to the flames and studied his servant inquisitively, trying to figure her out. Obviously, if he had told her that he had something that could help and had suggested that she make herself comfortable, he didn't have housework in mind. He may have been a clean-freak, but he wouldn't describe the activity as comforting: just necessary. Unless Toris were a complete germaphobe who was having a strong reaction to something disgusting on the blanket, he wouldn't suggest laundering for comfort.

Besides, the blanket was immaculate.

So why was Toris was hunched into her trademark scared-mouse position in the corner of the settee, pale, trembling, barefoot, and looking quite terrified?

What did I do?

"I thought I'd already laundered all of your bedclothes," Toris mumbled, "I must have missed this. I'm sorry."

Toris, you don't have to…

But the other nation was already apologizing. Tragically-nervous eyes focused on the blanket as though their owner expected it to come to life, sprout teeth, and bite her. "Sir, I'm sorry…" Her voice nearly cracked: she looked so lost. "What do you want me to do with it?"

Notes:

(1) Greater Aryan certificate. In Nazi Germany it was impossible to inherit land or join the Nazi party without it. The certificate traced the family pedigree back to January 1, 1800 ( January 1, 1750 for SS officers ) and served as proof that that none of the person's ancestors going as far back as that date were of Jewish or colored descent.

(2) The village that the Poles called "Ponary" the Lithuanians referred to as "Paneriai". For years ownership of this city and surrounding territory was disputed by the two countries. In modern times it is officially part of Lithuania.

(3) "Shut up" in Lithuanian.

(4) "My children" in Lithuanian.