Chapter 28
Surface Tension
It wasn't his problem.
The atmosphere was shifting. Something was changing here. He could sense it.
It just didn't feel the same as it had before, and Ivan's mood was so good that it was alarming at best, and absolutely terrifying at worst. It wasn't the same, and now when he passed Ivan in the halls, walking so confidently as he always did, arms behind his back and chin held high, there was a strange look upon his face, and sometimes Ivan even smiled at him, knowingly and obviously quite happily.
Something was changing. Toris could feel it.
He had no doubt that it was because of Ludwig. Ivan was in such a good mood because Ludwig was here. Ivan was pleased with Ludwig. Ivan was expecting something more from Ludwig.
For what, exactly, Toris could not yet say. In all honesty, he really didn't want to know, and he told himself repeatedly that he didn't even care. Why should he care what happened to Ludwig? Ludwig wasn't his concern. Ludwig was Ivan's project. Ludwig was Ivan's responsibility. Ludwig was Ivan's self-appointed burden. Not his. Ludwig wasn't his concern.
Ivan had taken Ludwig up for himself. Toris had nothing to do with that.
And so he convinced himself, every second of every day, that even though he found Ludwig to his liking, that even though he admired Ludwig's bravery, that even though he was sympathetic to the horrible situation that Ludwig had found himself thrust into, it just wasn't his problem.
He was not obligated to look out for Ludwig. He had looked out for people in the past, and he had been let down. Over and over. He was only human; how much disappointment was he expected to take? He was tired of exhausting himself for others and getting nothing in return.
Ludwig was not his concern. It was as simple as that.
It was simple.
So, god, why did it make his chest ache so to be around him?
Stupid Ludwig, that dumb kid. Ludwig didn't get it. Didn't seem to really understand where he was or what he was or with whom. Looked so damn confused all the time.
Toris couldn't really stand the feeling that came up when Ludwig was around him.
When Ludwig came after him in the halls, following behind him or walking at his side, trying to strike up conversation that Toris did not want to engage in, or when Ludwig sat with them at the table, sending him amicable looks and being generally good-natured as Toris tried to avert his eyes, when Ludwig acted like they were friends, when Toris had done nothing to give Ludwig such an impression. Hated that feeling.
He liked Ludwig. That was why it was better to keep distant from him. Nothing good would come from being friends with Ludwig. Friends. There were no such thing as friends. Not really. Ivan had never let him forget that.
Who would ever want to be friends with you?
In this world, it was every man for himself.
In the end, Ludwig would probably betray him somehow, too. He had already betrayed Ludwig.
He tried not to think of that now, as he stood in a bare room that he wanted to furnish, and it was with far too much effort that he tried to keep his mind on paint colors and carpet texture and flattering paintings rather than Ludwig.
It was easier to stay distant from him. It wouldn't hurt that way.
Ludwig just didn't seem to understand. Didn't get that Toris avoided him for a reason.
"What are you doing?"
A deep whisper behind him, so low that he almost didn't hear it, and when Toris looked over his shoulder, there was Ludwig, like always, standing in the doorframe and watching him with those pale eyes, and Toris shifted his weight. Ludwig, who always sought him out, longing for a friend, no doubt, in this new world.
Why wouldn't he just understand?
It wasn't Ludwig's fault. Ludwig just wanted reassurance and companionship. It shouldn't have been so hard to give him what he wanted, and it wasn't fair, but every time Toris saw Ludwig he could not completely push away that little twinge of resentment in his chest.
Bitterness.
Toris wondered to himself, irritably, why Ludwig wanted to come after him when Ivan was obviously so goddamn eager to have him around and coddle him every five minutes and compliment him and embrace him and tell him everything he wanted to hear. Ludwig could get reassurance and companionship from Ivan. Let Ivan keep his friendship.
Ludwig had been here for all of four months and was already a fuckin' colonel—
"Toris?"
Ludwig was watching him expectantly from where he stood, maybe a bit apprehensively, and Toris could see from the bracing of his feet that he was preparing for a clipped, bristling response.
...was he so harsh with Ludwig?
It wasn't Ludwig's fault.
The resentment faded into something like guilt—yet another reason he strove to avoid Ludwig, because feeling bad was not pleasant—and finally, Toris shrugged a shoulder, and muttered, "Daydreaming."
Ludwig smiled, in relief, and his look clearly said, 'Oh, good, I got him in a good mood for once!'
Yeah. He was an asshole to Ludwig, he knew that. It wasn't that he wanted to be, really, so much as that he needed to be. He didn't mean to take out his frustrations on Ludwig, but did anyway because it was for the best.
Toris fell still, and Ludwig seemed perfectly content to just sit there and stare at him. Big idiot. Finally Toris heaved a sigh and brushed past him, retreating into the halls and hoping that he could lose Ludwig in the maze of the twists and turns. An impossibility, however, because Ludwig's long legs outpaced him, and Ludwig's sharp eyes would not miss a move he made, and he kept right at Toris' side, hands tucked in his pockets and observing his surroundings quietly.
Toris was stuck with him. Again.
They walked in silence, because Toris had nothing to say, nothing nice, anyhow, and Ludwig seemed strangely thoughtful, his feet sure and steady and never faltering. Not fumbling around as he usually did. He was calm. Subdued.
Toris could only imagine what had happened the other night, when Ivan had dragged Ludwig out of the safety of the fire-lit room and pulled him upstairs to give him his idea of a Christmas gift. No doubt Ludwig had seen his brand new papers, and that was why he walked so surely now, because Ivan had given him a new life and a new name and now he was someone here. Identity was no doubt a confidence booster.
Colonel Müller.
That miserable son of a bitch. And he wasn't sure if he meant Ludwig or Ivan.
Damn Ludwig.
Colonel? Colonel. Toris had worked so hard to impress Ivan, he had done so many things to get up to lieutenant, so many godawful things, years and years of struggling, and yet somehow Ludwig came along and took up a higher rank without even trying.
Just because Ludwig appealed to Ivan's fantastical ideal of a perfect man.
That burned him.
It wasn't Ludwig's fault, but that didn't mean that it stung any less to see Ivan fawning over him every chance he got. Going through so much trouble just to make sure that Ludwig would never leave the snows of Siberia. Looking at Ludwig like that when Toris had busted his ass just to get Ivan to even glance at him.
It had just been a spur of the moment thing. Ivan had wanted Ludwig because he was handsome and bold. It had just been the whim of a bored Ivan. How could Toris have predicted that Ludwig would suddenly become so goddamn important? Who could have imagined that Ivan would have taken to him like he had? Toris had expected (and maybe Ivan had too) at best a few months of amusement from troublesome Ludwig before Ludwig escaped in a way, as the last one had.
It had just been a game. Maybe Ivan had won more than he had bargained for. Ivan was suddenly absolutely taken with Ludwig.
How had this happened?
Toris could suddenly hear Ivan's voice in his head, and it was with a horrible burn of envy that he recalled Ivan saying dreamily to him, as Ludwig had been bleeding all over the floor up in that room on the eighth day, 'Isn't he great? Look, twice as long as you now! Who would have thought a damn German could be so great? What a fuckin' relief—god knows I didn't want another you here.'
Another you.
Like Toris was a waste of space. Like he was a great disappointment. Like he had somehow become a burden; an annoying guest that had long overstayed his welcome.
Another you. Ivan's great miscalculation. He was nothing of particular importance to Ivan.
Just an amusement, maybe, a pencil-pushing punching bag whose only usefulness was to complete the papers that bored Ivan and to drive the car wherever Ivan wanted to go and to translate into Lithuanian and Czech and Polish when it was necessary (but not German—not anymore). Whose only purpose here was to come running when Ivan called and to stand silent and still as Ivan crushed the world beneath his boots and to be available whenever Ivan needed something done. Whose only talent was in being mindlessly obedient and unquestioning, willing to do horrible things, to commit horrible betrayals, just because Ivan said to do so.
To be there to accept Ivan's very physical frustration when something didn't go his way.
Ivan tolerated his presence here. But Ivan didn't like him. Ivan had dressed him up and taught him to operate within a military world. But Ivan didn't respect him. Ivan had given him a gun and a rank and taught him to survive Siberia. But Ivan didn't admire him. Ivan trusted him, even with his life, to do everything he said, and gave him reasonable freedom to come and go in this frozen land as he pleased. But Ivan didn't care about him.
Not like Ludwig.
Was there such a difference between them, really? Him and Ludwig. Were they so different?
Ivan had never been discreet or secretive in his fancies, Toris had known that from the very first day. It was so easy to figure out Ivan's inclinations, because Ivan spoke with his eyes, as most men did. Toris had spent years watching Ivan watching other men, and it hadn't taken long to piece it all together. Ivan was a very typical Slavic male, egotistical and confident and ultra-masculine, not afraid to chase what he wanted, not afraid to put himself out there boldly, and so figuring out Ivan's 'type', so to speak, had been very easy.
Ivan loved men that lived up to the expectations he held for himself. Loved men that were intelligent, strong, brave. Loved fearless men, ones that commanded attention when they walked into a room. Loved men that were collected and sure, as bold as he was. It was so easy to look at a rough man like Ivan and assume that he would have gone for something fairer, weaker, as truly masculine as he was, but that wasn't the case. Ivan seemed to seek out someone who was just as masculine as himself, and Toris had always found that strange, but fascinating.
Above all else, however, that man absolutely had to be blond. No negotiations. Must have been some critical part of Ivan's made-up perfect man. Had to be blond, and pale eyes and skin were preferable. Could have found a man that matched every single criteria Ivan could have ever wanted, but if he wasn't blond, Ivan would have turned his head with disinterest.
Ivan considered himself perfect, and somehow expected to actually find that impossibly perfect equal that he had created up in his head.
Maybe he had, at long last.
As they walked, Toris spared a quick glance at Ludwig from the corner of his eye, observing his counterpart's appearance with a furrowed brow.
...counterpart? Maybe his competitor.
Pale and blond, check. Brave, check. Collected and intelligent, check.
Ludwig walked loosely and almost silently, looking straight ahead with an unwavering gaze, pale as snow and hair loose and eyes tired. The cuts on his hands were finally starting to heal, and from the smooth gait, his feet must have been healing too. He was lither now than he had been, too thin, but that was expected from his numerous encounters with such dangerous circumstances, and if Irina had her way—and she would—that would not last for long.
Once Ludwig got healthier and put on weight, put on muscle, he really would have fit into Ivan's exclusive category of perfection.
Ludwig was wearing one of Ivan's shirts.
He looked different. That was pretty obvious, even if Toris couldn't exactly put his finger on what it was.
Ludwig felt him staring, and looked over. When their eyes locked, suddenly Toris' feelings of bitterness were gone, as it struck him how strange Ludwig's eyes were. Almost unreadable. Like trying to look through a thick fog. It had been easy to read Ludwig before. Fear and hopelessness had been immediately obvious. He could tell what had been going on in Ludwig's mind. He could always tell what Ludwig was feeling.
But not anymore.
Fog.
He couldn't tell what Ludwig was thinking now, assuming, of course, that he was. Maybe Ludwig didn't think anymore. Maybe Ivan did all the thinking for him now.
Oh. That thought hurt.
Ludwig looked so different. This wasn't the same bold Ludwig that had taken a swing at him and knocked him unconscious on the train. Or even the same fiery Ludwig that had been so angry at him for ruining his run in Lensk. Not the defiant Ludwig that had shoved him, that talked back to him, that told him damn well exactly how much of a jerk he thought Toris was.
This Ludwig just looked eerily tranquil, and almost unresponsive. A ghost, wandering through the mists of Siberia. His shoulders were low and slumped, and Toris could only imagine that Ivan's heavy hands were upon them, even when he wasn't present. Hell, he didn't imagine—he knew. Because that was how he felt, too, wasn't it?
Ivan was always there, even when he was gone. Ivan wasn't a man. Ivan was god, maybe. Impervious and infallible and always knowing. Always seeing. Toris couldn't even remember the last time he had had a thought cross his mind without wondering if Ivan would approve of him having that thought in the first place.
Ivan was god.
He shouldn't have resented Ludwig. He and Ludwig weren't different at all.
Only Ivan's expectations were different. Ivan had found his perfect man, at last, and so of course Ivan was so intent on never letting him go. One in a million, this encounter.
"Are you feeling alright, Toris?" suddenly came Ludwig's whisper, and it struck him too that Ludwig's voice was strangely smooth and almost silvery. Not the scratchy rumble that he was used to.
Maybe Ivan had started speaking for Ludwig, too.
The thought made him shudder, and Toris could only reply, "Sure. Are you?"
A silence, and then Ludwig smiled again, serenely. "Sure."
And the scary part was that Ludwig really meant it. Ludwig was fine. Just fine. Accepting. Submissive. Calm.
Ivan wanted something more from Ludwig. Ivan could see something there in Ludwig. Something that Toris could see, too, even if he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Ludwig was just like him now, sure, but there was something underneath Ludwig's frightening tranquility. Something stirring, like the slow moving of river water beneath the thick sheet of ice.
That was why Ivan had been in such a good mood lately, because maybe Ivan had finally found someone that could endure his madness. Maybe even match it, in the right circumstances.
They were the same now, he and Ludwig, but Ivan seemed confident that Ludwig could move forward. Rise above. It was a strange notion, one that Toris couldn't really understand or comprehend, because he had never been able to overcome the mists and see above them. He couldn't understand Ivan's mind. Maybe Ludwig could.
Go figure. Kindhearted, gentle, brave Ludwig.
It had just been a game. Who could have known? Maybe Toris should just go ahead and start standing up straight and saluting every time he saw Ludwig and say, 'Good morning, colonel!'
It might turn out that way, in the end.
That same loyalty to his brother and burning resolve that had made Ludwig such a challenge had suddenly been turned around, and there was no doubt in Toris' mind that Ivan was very close to harnessing that loyalty and that resolve and directing it towards himself. And from there...?
Toris could not imagine.
It would be better to distance himself from Ludwig. No good would come from being friends with him. Maybe it was even dangerous.
Toris knew everything about Ludwig, and knew that it was wise to stay distant and cold. Knew that Ludwig's stability was too shaky to rest comfortably upon.
Toris had so many folders full of papers from Berlin that it was almost overwhelming. Papers he had had no business seeing. Yet he had sat there and studied them nonetheless, and relayed everything dutifully to Ivan.
He knew everything about Ludwig, if only through the foolish Gilbert, everything that could ever have been hoped to learn. Had every single record of Gilbert there on his desk. Doctor records, school records, police reports, housing forms. Hell, he even had financial records. He had access to Gilbert's empty bank account.
He had access to the one single record that Ludwig actually had.
Toris could have told Ivan, had Ivan asked, what bars Gilbert frequented and what shops Ludwig liked and who Gilbert bought his pills from and even how often Ludwig spoke to the Austrian ambassador on the phone. He could have told Ivan what size shoe Gilbert wore and the name of the man who cut Ludwig's hair every month.
He knew everything.
And so he knew, and of course that meant that Ivan knew too, that Ludwig's life with his brother had been shaky, to say the least, and yet Ludwig had somehow remained unwaveringly loyal to Gilbert, to the point of sacrificing himself. For a man who had a police record so long that it had taken Toris an hour just to flip through all the pages. For a man whose court-appointed therapist had labeled him 'dangerously mentally defective, no clear sense of right and wrong as pertains to himself, reckless, highly aggressive, impulsive and brash; a threat to himself and others'.
Yet Ludwig would have done anything for him. So how loyal would Ludwig become to Ivan, who was even more mentally defective but who could also offer a more stable—ha, that word!—home environment?
Ludwig's mind was not completely sound, either.
That one record of Ludwig. The only one in existence.
It was from that same court therapist, who had been greatly concerned about Ludwig's seeming acceptance and placidity towards Gilbert's volatile nature. Toris would never forget the words written on that paper : 'Seems to have a what-can-I-do? attitude. In denial. Accepts abnormal relationship despite warning signs. Self-blames easily. Seems to believe that dangerous relationship is better than none at all. Possible abandonment issues. Blurred sense of identity. Detached initially, then latches strongly to others. Susceptible to manipulation. Psychologist highly recommended.'
Good-natured Ludwig, whose mysterious and lonely childhood had left him with attachment issues so severe that he would go to hell and back for someone like Gilbert. So what would he do for someone like Ivan?
Oh, that awful look of triumph on Ivan's face when he had read those notes...
Toris had betrayed Ludwig the moment he had started reading those papers.
To see Ludwig standing here, so pale and passive and to know that he was partly responsible for extinguishing that fire, was too much. Felt so shitty about it, but that wasn't really a new feeling. Hated himself for it, but that was fine, because Toris had hated himself for years. Why stop now?
Just wanted Ludwig to go away.
Trying to get rid of Ludwig, like he always did, Toris finally stopped in his tracks and said, snappily, "Why are you following me? Shouldn't you be with Ivan? Don't you have anything better to do? Leave me alone for once, won't you?"
A passing of hurt through Ludwig's pale eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, hidden behind the mists, and Ludwig only stared at him, and shrugged a shoulder, calmly.
It occurred to Toris, and that little bit of hurt had proved it, that Ludwig was still there. Ludwig, the real Ludwig, was still there, even if he was less visible than before. But he was still there, somewhere. Deep down and buried, too afraid of Ivan to come out, but there all the same.
For now.
It was only a matter of time before that Ludwig was gone completely, before he forgot himself under Ivan's smooth words.
Forgetting was so easy out here, and sometimes, when his mind wandered, Toris would start upright and realize that he didn't even remember his parents' names. He couldn't remember the look of his home. He couldn't remember the smell of the grass or the feel of the wind. Sometimes, he couldn't even picture his face.
He had forgotten. How could he have forgotten? He couldn't remember.
Ludwig was starting to forget things, too.
"If I'm bothering you," Ludwig said, gently, "I'm sorry. I just didn't want to be alone."
Alone. Who wanted to be alone? Toris didn't, but he didn't want to be with Ludwig, either.
"Where's Ivan?" Toris managed to ask, and the smile on Ludwig's face made his chest hurt.
"Out in town with Irina. He should be back soon, but I thought we could do something together for now."
A hopeful suggestion.
Ludwig. Poor Ludwig.
Oh, couldn't stand it. Seeing Ludwig like that.
"What's there to do?" Toris snipped, and tried to stalk off, feeling his tail firmly between his legs, but Ludwig just kept following him. "Why don't you go bother the cat instead? I'm sure it won't mind being around you all the time. So stop following me. I'm not in the mood to talk to you." Ludwig was on his heels. Agitation growing. He couldn't stand it. "Leave me alone! Go sit up in bed and wait for Ivan to come back and hold your hand. I'm surprised you even managed to open the door without him telling you how to."
He didn't mean it.
As if Toris could do something without Ivan telling him to. Hypocrite. But he aimed to wound because, god, he'd rather that Ludwig punched him in the face again than just brush off his words so easily.
Maybe Ludwig had a reply, but if so, then it was cut off by another voice before it had been formed.
A hiss in Russian.
"Such bold words from a man who once fell to his knees and grabbed me by the legs, crying for nearly an hour just so that I would remove the lock from his bedroom door. Because he couldn't sleep."
A horrible rush of warmth on his cheeks, and Toris felt himself go rigid in that mechanical reaction that he had no control over as Ivan was suddenly before them, materializing as though from thin air from the door of his office (which Toris had not realized he was passing), hair windswept and looking somewhat hassled; Irina was to blame, no doubt.
His eyes were scorching as he stared, and Toris was glad that Ludwig had not understood the words, because it would have shamed him. Embarrassing. Had forgotten about that, thanks.
He couldn't move, suddenly. Ivan's presence was overwhelming.
Beside of him, he could see that Ludwig's stance shifted too, but much differently.
When Ivan was around, Toris tensed up so terribly that he found it difficult to recover his reflexes, and sometimes his muscles clenched and he was stuck in helpless immobility, like a deer in headlights. It was automatic; he couldn't stop it from happening. It had been beaten into him for the last ten years. Couldn't help it.
Ludwig had developed an automatic reaction as well.
But instead of rigid fear, he seemed to fall loose. Where Toris' muscles contracted, his relaxed. His shoulders dropped all the lower, his arms fell limp at his sides, and his head dropped, just a bit. Almost unnoticeable, barely perceptible, but Toris saw it. Toris stiffened in complete attention. Ludwig collapsed into complete submission. A stance of passivity. Subconscious submission. Ludwig probably didn't even realize it had happened. He probably didn't realize that he was smiling, either.
Finally, mercifully, Ivan released Toris from his suffocating gaze, turning his pale eyes to Ludwig, who seemed to appreciate the stare more than he feared it.
Then again, it wouldn't be so bad to be under Ivan's gaze if he looked at him like that. Tranquilly. Adoringly. With fondness rather than annoyance.
...damn, there was that resentment again.
Sure, it was easy for Ludwig. Ivan prized Ludwig. It wouldn't be so bad if Ivan could look at him like that. God knows he'd tried for so long. Just hadn't ever been able to impress Ivan.
A step on the tile, and Ivan came forward, placing a gloved palm against Ludwig's pale cheek and transitioning smoothly from Russian to always improving German as he murmured, reassuringly, "Don't bother with him, Ludwig. I promise I'll take you along next time so you won't have to suffer being around Toris."
A pang of hurt, and even though he had said and thought horrible things about Ludwig, some part of him hoped that Ludwig would shake his head and say, 'I don't mind being around Toris!' because he needed to hear words like that. Kind words.
Ludwig just stood there, smiling weakly, and didn't say a thing. Not a thing. Toris should have expected as much. He had done nothing to earn such a defense, anyhow. Jackass that he was. All he ever did was snap at Ludwig and still expected Ludwig to come running. Ha.
Ivan's thumb ran across Ludwig's high cheek bone, and Toris made a point of averting his eyes, reluctant to see that look upon Ivan's face. It shouldn't have hurt as much it did.
How long had he been here? He had done everything Ivan had wanted him to. And yet, despite his years of loyal servitude, all he ever heard now was...
"Come in here, Ludwig, I have something I want you to do for me."
Ludwig.
Ludwig, Ludwig, Ludwig. That was all that seemed to come out of Ivan's mouth now. It was making Toris crazy. Ludwig.
Sometimes, he just wanted to reach up and cover his ears and moan, 'Will you just shut the fuck up about Ludwig?'
Ludwig. Ludwig.
Lyudovik.
Oh, he hated the eerie way Ivan crooned Ludwig's name. The sound of it was unnerving. Wrong. Fuckin' Ludwig. Swear to god, he was gonna snap if Ivan said Ludwig's name one more goddamn time.
But he was sure that Ludwig had no problem being the center of attention, as he allowed Ivan to take his hand and lead him into the office, a place he had never been before then, at least not to Toris' knowledge, and he was probably happy about it, absolutely clueless of how unfair it was. Let them be together. Let Ludwig do Ivan's bidding. He had no intention of following them now.
Something for Ludwig to do? He didn't want to know.
Shuddering, Toris turned on his heel and made to escape.
He was unsuccessful.
"Ah, ah, ah," came the high-pitched chirp from behind, and Toris froze in his tracks, a rise of fear and annoyance forcing him to wrench his head back and look over his shoulder.
Ivan was watching him, expectantly. Amusedly. Arms crossed and chin low, leering away at Toris with a smile.
"You too, Toris."
Well, shit.
Without hesitation, Toris returned stiffly to the door, head pounding as he followed Ludwig into the office, even though he dreaded it. Why did he have to be present? Nothing good, for sure.
The office had not been an occupied place lately, not since Ludwig had been here, and Ivan had been content to let it sit there unused in favor of clutching Ludwig up against him in every corner of the house and saddling Toris with the majority of paperwork. Hated this office nowadays, always cooped up in it as he was. Hadn't had so much damn paperwork since back then.
Giant maps covered the walls—Ivan loved maps, he couldn't ever take his eyes off them—and stacks of folders were strewn about everywhere, papers falling out of drawers and little notes thumb-tacked to every available space. Organized chaos, because despite the clutter, Ivan could make a beeline for a certain document and pluck it out of nowhere when need be. How, exactly, Toris could not say, but he knew he didn't dare try to reorganize it.
Ivan's memory was razor-sharp and photographic. Ivan remembered everything. Made it impossible to ever lie to him.
The click of the door behind him, and Toris shifted his weight anxiously as Ivan brushed past him and settled himself down at the desk, upon which there was another map. Ivan set his fingers upon it, and turned his gaze over to Ludwig, who stood still and silent in the corner, and his smile became a leer.
Toris had a horrible suspicion. An uncomfortable squirm in his stomach. Fuckin' map on the desk like that, that smile on Ivan's face...
A suspicion.
"Come here," Ivan suddenly beckoned, his voice smooth and cheerful over the silence, and Toris could only watch as Ludwig obeyed, taking a step forward and coming to the end of the desk. Not close enough for Ivan, obviously, for he lifted his finger and signaled for Ludwig to come ever forward.
A glance upwards, and Ludwig's pale eyes had suddenly locked into Toris' own, as though mentally pleading with Toris to somehow take away his anxiety. How could he? He couldn't help Ludwig. Couldn't even help himself. Forsaking Ludwig yet again, now too many times to count, Toris dropped his head, and stared firmly at the desk. He couldn't help Ludwig. Ivan would have his way, in the end. No point in fighting it. Ludwig would learn, eventually. One way or another.
"Come over here," Ivan coaxed and reached out his hand, grabbing up Ludwig's sleeve and pulling him around until he was all but on top of him, and Toris could hear the eagerness in Ivan's voice as he added, "Here, look, I want to show you something. It's alright. Let's call it a game!"
A game.
Ivan's games were never fun. Sometimes, losing Ivan's games resulted in sudden death. And sometimes winning Ivan's games resulted in sudden death. Toris knew right off what game Ivan was going to play with Ludwig. He had played it himself, a long time ago.
Ludwig, unknowing, just stared down as Ivan took up a marker and drew three great black circles upon the map.
Toris spared a glance, and could see Ludwig's pulse racing in his pale neck, even though he seemed to be trying very hard to keep his face impassive. Trying to be brave, as always. Poor Ludwig, doomed to live in this world of constant apprehension. To live feeling nothing but nervousness and unease.
Toris could only watch. He couldn't help.
He'd been taught only to hurt others, not help them. Hell; almost didn't know how to help someone.
His scribbles complete, Ivan set the marker aside and reached out, grabbing hapless Ludwig by his belt and tugging him down, down, until he was settled neatly on Ivan's lap, back to Ivan's chest, and suddenly Ludwig was so pale that Toris would not have been particularly surprised if he just fainted right there. Toris wouldn't have blamed him, either, as Ivan's hands gripped his waist in an inescapable vice.
That dumb kid must have been pretty damn terrified right then.
Ivan stared at Toris intensely from above Ludwig's shoulder, unblinking eyes on fire. Trying to gloat to Toris, no doubt, about how wonderful Ludwig was. Yeah, wonderful, alright, ready to pass out as he was. Really impressive.
It would have been so shocking to an outsider, for someone from the real world to walk into this room, right now, and see this young kid looking so sick and pale, sitting on the lap of a man far older than him, gruff and huge and with the Soviet coat of arms pinned upon his breast. Would have been quite outrageous, but out here it was hardly anything worth even looking up for. Such worse things happened in the snows of Siberia, and it didn't shock Toris.
Ivan reached up and placed a hand above the map.
"Here, look, Ludwig. Look."
Silence, as Ludwig stared down at the map with a tilted head of confusion. Toris could still feel Ivan's eyes yet upon him, even as his hands guided Ludwig.
Oh, why did he have to watch this?
"What am I looking at?" Ludwig finally asked, deep voice barely audible for its weakness, and Ivan leaned forward, resting his chin heavily upon Ludwig's shoulder.
Let the game begin.
Toris didn't want to watch. Somehow, he couldn't help it. As curious as he was horrified. Strange, being on the other side of this game. Toris raised his eyes, to see Ivan taking Ludwig's hand within his own and forcing it above each of those circles in turn.
"See these? Three rebel groups have come to our attention. Hardly a threat. But an annoyance. I've been asked to deal with these annoyances. See them? One in Kyiv. One in Sofia. One in Odessa."
Toris was squirming now more than Ludwig. Bad memories.
Ludwig opened his mouth as though to speak, but nothing came out, and finally he shook his head, and shrugged a shoulder, and it was obvious that he was helplessly confused. And why shouldn't he be? Ludwig was not military. Ludwig wasn't a soldier. Not a real colonel. He didn't know anything about these matters. He finally said as much, too, when he whispered, "I don't understand."
The words Ivan was waiting for.
"I want you to impress me, Ludwig. These groups are going to be taken care of, sooner or later. I prefer later, myself, I feel I'm too important to be dealing with little students throwing Molotov cocktails, but—ah, what can I do? These little things bore me, but I have to do what I have to do, and this will be good practice for you, won't it?"
Ludwig went even paler, if possible.
"For me?"
Toris felt sick.
Poor Ludwig. Ludwig hadn't stood a chance. Not a chance.
Ivan was excited now, as he brought Ludwig's finger above the dot that symbolized Moscow.
"This should be easy for you, right? You're so smart! Look. I have five thousand men at my disposal in Moscow. Armed and ready to go. More than enough to take care of these problems. I've been given extra tanks, and I plan on using every single one of them. Have you ever seen a tank, Ludwig? You'd like them. I love them. I admit I've been biding my time a bit on this, but it's just so boring to me. But, like I said, this is how you learn, right? You can handle students, can't you? Come on, tell me—which one should we hit first? Choose. Make me out a plan. Tell me where to send the tanks. Tell me how many men. They're hiding out in such little towns, right outside the cities. Towns can be burned. Come on. Impress me. Here."
Ivan forced the marker inside of Ludwig's hand, and Toris felt his heart sink down into his stomach at the terrible look on Ludwig's face as he sat there, frozen. Something like horror. Helplessness. Toris could see the sheen of cold sweat that had broken out above his brow. He suddenly looked as though he were seconds away from bursting into tears or throwing up.
This was the real Ludwig. Ludwig, who had been raised by an ambassador and who had had the intention of helping people. Ludwig had wanted to help people. Not send death upon them. Gentle, kind Ludwig, who probably hadn't ever had a single violent thought before he had encountered Ivan.
"Come on."
Toris suddenly remembered, as though it were yesterday, the first time that Ivan had taken up his hand and placed it upon that map, and forced him to choose who would die first. Surreal, almost, to be on the other side. Was that how he had looked back then? So sick?
Ludwig only sat there, stuck on Ivan's lap and staring down at the map with wide eyes, and Toris could see the struggle within him, as self-preservation battled with morality. Ivan had given Ludwig an order. Orders could not be disobeyed. Ludwig still had a conscience. Consciences could not be disobeyed, either.
Silence.
Toris wondered, deliriously, if Ludwig, had he been able to see into the future, would still have taken his brother's place if he knew it would mean having blood on his hands. Who could say?
Finally, Ludwig shook his head, once. Wordless refute. Refusal.
Ludwig refused.
Ivan didn't explode, though, not like he would have if Toris ever shook his head, and Ivan's confidence never faltered as he pulled a sheet of paper out of one of those numerous folders, and set it down before the desk, forcing Ludwig's hand over until the tip of the marker touched the parchment.
"Everyone dies, Ludwig," he whispered, so quietly that Toris could barely hear, "It's just a matter of how. People kill. It's just war. National security. There's no wrong in it. Come on, it's not so hard! Take your time! It's so easy. Come on, it's just a game. How are we going to take care of this?"
We.
Ivan was making it painfully obvious to Ludwig, probably already so mixed up that he didn't know up from down, that these looming massacres would be the result of his decisions.
"Which one? Huh? Which one do you want to take out first? Maybe this one. Or this one. What do you think? Have you ever seen a town burn? Ha, it goes up so fast, you wouldn't even believe. You'll see. But, hey, we don't take any prisoners, you know. I don't have time for that. Think about it. Come on, figure it out. You're smart. Think."
Ludwig bowed his head, and squinted his eyes shut. He was shaking.
Shaking, and Toris couldn't help.
Unsuspecting little towns, that just happened to be harboring, probably unknowingly, student rebels, unorganized and underpowered and no match for the military should they ever show up in force. Students, dreaming about overthrowing the iron fist government while they struggled to finish their homework on time. Dumb kids, just like Ludwig.
No match.
Ivan was asking Ludwig to sign their death warrants. A game. Ivan's favorite game. Torture by proxy. It was bad enough to have the threat of harm constantly above your head, but to know that you were doing it to other people, to know that you had sacrificed someone else so that you would be spared, to know that you had given the order that had taken a life...
It was worse.
This was Ivan's favorite game. Turning unwitting men into murderers.
Ludwig was not like Ivan, but would do it all the same, because there was no choice. Toris had done it. Ludwig could, too. And hell, Toris hadn't even hesitated, not like Ludwig. He hadn't shaken his head. He had just done it, in a fit of cowardice and bitterness. How could he ever hold it against Ludwig if he did the same now?
Ludwig looked up suddenly, and caught his gaze. Toris could hear him pleading for help.
Help.
That he didn't want to do this, that he wasn't a soldier, that he wasn't a murderer, that this was not who he was, that this was not what he had been meant for, that this was not his fate—
What could he do? It would be better for Ludwig just to get it over with. The first time hurt like hell. The second time stung a bit. The third time was a little easier. And after you had done it so many times...
After a while you just didn't feel anything at all. Just another task. Daily business. In some way or another, be it through direct contact or paperwork or phone-calls, Toris usually wound up hurting someone every damn day. So used to it that he didn't even flinch. Ludwig wouldn't be so upset the next time. It was better to get it over with.
Finally, Toris could only nod his head, trying to say, 'Just do it.'
Ludwig's shoulders slumped and his face fell. Toris hated himself for it. Maybe Ludwig would understand one day that everything Toris had ever done was only for Ludwig's own good. Poor Ludwig, who had been brought up under Edelstein, with the pledge that he would uphold the Geneva Convention and Habeas Corpus and always put human rights before all else.
Ludwig just didn't understand that sometimes people were bad, for no reason.
Ivan's grip upon Ludwig was unyielding, and his smooth voice was near Ludwig's ear. "Impress me, Ludwig. I know you can do it. You can do anything. Just think about it. Don't rush yourself. It's easy. I know you can do it."
Toris shifted, as Ludwig's hands began to tremble. He expected Ludwig to start crying, or maybe even to faint. The first time was almost impossible.
The Geneva Convention? Habeas Corpus? Human rights? Just made-up words out here. Ivan did not abide by those.
Toris didn't expect very much, honestly, and Ludwig would probably be unable to complete this awful game, tossing his pen down and burying his face in his hands. He didn't expect much.
Ivan's smile was unshakeable, and he pressed his lips into Ludwig's ear, whispering something that Toris could not make out. Croons of admiration, no doubt.
Ludwig would fold. The first time was the worst.
Why are you crying about it? It's easy! Come on, it's not hard. Why don't you wanna do it? Burn the whole fuckin' country, why don't you? Why don't you? Take the damn pen and do it. Do to him what he did to you—
He shuddered.
But Toris had underestimated Ludwig again.
Pressing his palms into the wood, Ludwig suddenly took a great, deep breath to steady himself, pushing himself forward until he was pressed against the edge of the desk, and it was terrible, and it was horrible, and it would have been unfathomable to an outsider, but Toris could see it. He could see that light that suddenly crossed through Ludwig's dull, misty eyes. Determination. The need to please. Ludwig wanted to impress Ivan. He could see it.
As Ivan continued to whisper things that Toris could neither hear nor even imagine, the real Ludwig fled with a great sigh, and the Ludwig that Ivan was creating suddenly swallowed in what might have been a effort to stifle nausea, and then smiled. Ludwig smiled. Pale and weak and barely there, but a smile nonetheless.
Well, then. How strange. Hadn't expected that much of him.
Ludwig looked up, then, and caught Toris' eye yet again, and this time Toris could see that there was something that almost looked like pleading upon his face, as though he were somehow trying to seek Toris' forgiveness for what he was about to do. As if he were trying to make Toris understand. Understand what? Toris had been the one who had nodded his head. Toris had been the one who had given Ludwig the all-clear.
Maybe, in Ludwig's confused, disjointed, muddled mind, Ludwig was trying to rationalize and justify this horrible deed, and perhaps he was thinking to himself, 'Well, Ivan gave me a name, so I have to live up to it!'
Good-natured, harmless Ludwig was suddenly not so harmless. Not under Ivan's influence.
Toris could only watch as Ludwig clenched the pen in his hand, ignored the cold sweat on his brow, and tried to steady his fingers, hunkering over and studying the map like he was really thinking about it. Like he was really going to make out a path of war.
Toris' brow actually lifted then, and he would have scoffed if Ivan hadn't looked at him again.
Bastard.
Ivan leered at Toris from above Ludwig's shoulder, looking exceedingly satisfied and content and maybe even gleeful, and Toris could hear the eagerness in his voice as he said, breathlessly, "Make me proud."
Proud.
Toris could only push away the pang of envy and focus again on Ludwig.
Toris had done everything for Ivan, but all Ivan talked about was Ludwig. Clenching his fists at his sides, Toris stayed still and silent so that he would not anger Ivan, and stared straight ahead, as Ivan's adored Ludwig brought the pen down to the paper, and began to ask questions.
"Well... Which is the smallest?"
Toris had underestimated Ludwig. He had underestimated the extent of Ivan's control over him. He had thought it would take longer to get inside Ludwig's head. He had even thought that Ludwig would have killed himself before he did something like this. Thought that Ludwig was stronger. More resilient.
Underestimated? No. He had overestimated Ludwig.
Susceptible to manipulation. Psychologist highly recommended.
He hadn't thought it—he had hoped that it would have taken longer. In a way, in the back of his mind, no matter how hard he had tried to deny it, Toris had always known that Ludwig was going to crack. Sometimes, Ivan's words were just too powerful, especially to someone like Ludwig, who didn't even know who the hell he was. Ludwig had been no match for Ivan. Not a fair fight at all.
Ivan was god.
Ludwig had surrendered. Submitted. Bowed. And he would draw out death for student rebels just so that Ivan would be proud of him. Toris understood. He had done worse things to make Ivan happy. It wasn't Ludwig's fault.
Turning his back on ethicality and morality, because Ivan wanted to be impressed and Ludwig wanted to impress, Ludwig took another deep breath, and stepped into the dark with the scratch of the marker upon the paper.
Toris wondered if he would ever come back out again.
Ivan was twitching in excitement. His favorite game. Ludwig was playing for keeps. Toris wondered if Ludwig had shut himself down and obeyed so quickly because he was afraid that Ivan would take back those damn papers if he failed to impress.
Ludwig and Ivan should never have encountered each other. It had the makings of a perfect storm. Toris could feel it.
Ludwig sat there, and every stroke of the pen across the paper was a painful reminder that Ivan had expected something far more from Ludwig, and Ludwig was acclimating almost too well. How much longer before the real Ludwig was gone completely?
"Do you have anyone on the inside?"
Ludwig was playing much more seriously than Toris ever had. Toris had just pointed and called it a day. But then, maybe Ludwig had more at stake then Toris had. Toris had known who he was back then, for the most part. Ivan could strip Ludwig of his identity if he wanted to, and that must have been a terrifying prospect for Ludwig.
"Ah," Ivan drawled, and seemed to perk up in what could have been eagerness as he leaned forward, pushing Ludwig farther into the desk, "I have two in Odessa."
"Do the groups communicate with each other?"
Ludwig's voice was low and distant. Almost apathetic. Mechanical. Not his own. Ivan, thinking for Ludwig again.
"They must. They keep organizing riots across the border lines. Odessa has radioed the others in Kyiv at least twice while my men have been there."
...ha. What was this, Espionage 101?
Suddenly, the urge to salute was back, and maybe this wasn't Ludwig at all. Ha! It was just Colonel Müller. Of course. Suddenly so sick that he was almost giddy, Toris shuffled his feet, and tried to wipe the smile from his face as Ivan sent him a quick glance of annoyance.
Nearly giggled for a second there.
Minutes of silence, as the wheels grinded in Ludwig's confused head, and then finally Ludwig fell back, holding his paper in his hands and staring down at it with something that could have been nervousness. When Ivan tried to peer over his shoulder and see it, Ludwig pushed it down and shielded it with his hands, as though suddenly abashed. And Ivan just smiled crookedly, and tried to pry it away with gentle fingers, and Toris resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Barely.
Yeah, this may as well have been a class, alright. Toris suddenly felt like he was surrounded by schoolchildren, at any rate, as Ivan whined, "Let me see!" as he tried to pry the paper from Ludwig's fingers, and Ludwig just look mortified and suddenly there was a flush of red on his pale cheeks.
Like they hadn't just decided the fate of hundreds. Like Ludwig was trying in vain to hide a love note, instead of a paper that had upon it something like war crimes.
Well. That was pretty terrifying.
His giddiness was gone, replaced with a chill.
Finally, Ivan took the paper, and as he scanned it with cool eyes, his smile widened so that his teeth were visible. Those damn canines, poking out as they always did.
"How great!" he finally gushed, and Toris felt a twinge of disappointment as Ludwig's shoulders relaxed in obvious relief.
Toris wasn't surprised. To Ivan, everything that Ludwig did was great. Wished, somehow, that Ivan would have laughed, so that Toris could have felt a little better.
"Listen here, Toris," Ivan suddenly said in Russian, and his voice was much less soft and gentle when he was speaking to someone other than Ludwig, "You might learn something."
Toris wanted to say, 'I already know how, thanks. I've done it a million times.'
He would never dare.
Learn something. Ungrateful bastard—Toris had killed so many people that there was no hope in ever counting them. He could have taught the class, and Ivan was pretending that Ludwig had actually come up with something unique. Toris burned towns in his fuckin' sleep, scribbled away and did paperwork while at the same time holding a conversation on the phone, and on both ends Toris killed people.
Ludwig was nothing.
All the same, Toris straightened up at attention, and looked straight ahead, keeping himself impassive as Ludwig squirmed on Ivan's lap, no doubt agitated that Ivan was speaking and he could not understand.
Ivan held the paper before him in one hand, clenching Ludwig inescapably with the other, and Toris didn't dare to even breathe as Ivan began to speak. He didn't look over to meet Ludwig's eyes. He couldn't. Stupid Ludwig.
"Look at this Toris! He wants me to use the informants in Odessa to radio group Kyiv and tell them I'm coming! Ah ha, and while Kyiv is getting ready for war, we'll engage in a little sneak attack up behind group Odessa and group Sofia. And then—this is my favorite part—he still wants to go barreling into Kyiv, even though they'd know we were coming! On the same day. He wants to take them all out on the same day. Look, look, men and tanks divided perfectly."
A pause, and then Ivan set the paper upon the desk, and this time Toris' could not escape his gaze as he stared him down with frightening intensity, and Ludwig was squirming more than ever.
Ivan was almost breathless.
"You see? Isn't he great? Goddamn Germans, ruthless, conniving sons of bitches! I told you, it's in their blood. Always has been, the bastards. His first time, and how well he did it! What's your excuse, Toris? You already knew how to do all this shit. Why can't you come up with anything better than just covering your eyes and putting your finger on the map? Huh?"
Toris could not find his voice, and Ivan's gaze was too unnerving. Toris finally broke attention, and lowered his eyes. Ivan gave a deep scoff, and turned his interest, like he always did, back to Ludwig.
Toris had only done that the first time. Only the first time. Was that all Ivan remembered? Toris had only choked in the beginning. Had become a very efficient executioner since then. Why was that first lapse the only thing Ivan chose to remember?
"See?" Ivan whispered, switching languages with a smoothness that was uncanny, and it was with a lopsided leer that he leaned forward and placed a firm kiss upon Ludwig's cheek, sending Toris another one of those triumphant stares as he did so, "I knew you could do it! You're so smart. See, I told you we were the same. See how easy it was for you? I'll have everything set up by the end of the day. We'll do it your way, alright? You did so well! Easy, right?"
It hadn't been easy, not in any sense of the word, and it was obvious by the terrible shaking of Ludwig's hands upon the desk. Ivan saw it, and his smile never faltered.
"I'm proud of you. Don't let it bother you, Ludwig. Think of them as statistics, not people. And just think, when they're all wiped out, you'll always know that you were the genius behind it."
A strange silence.
Far from comforting, Ivan's words seemed to have struck Ludwig rather hard. Ludwig's pulse resumed its mad dash in his neck, visible even from a distance, and suddenly he bowed his head, and Toris could swear that he was struggling not to burst into tears. Toris knew, then. The real Ludwig was back. And what he had done was tearing him apart.
He hadn't overestimated Ludwig at all.
"I leave for Moscow tomorrow," Ivan said, and with his strong hands he grabbed Ludwig's belt and pulled the both of them upright.
Ludwig just stood there, head bowed and shoulders slumped. Defeated. Toris couldn't help him. It was too late now. What was done was done. There was no taking it back.
...it wouldn't hurt so much the next time. Ludwig would get used to it. It was better to get it over with.
If he could just explain to Ludwig that the next time would be better.
Ivan was still enjoying the rush of control, and suddenly he gave a great gasp, as though he just couldn't contain himself any longer, and was with a breathless voice that he grabbed Ludwig's hand and said, eagerly, "Come with me to Moscow! Come see the troops off with me. Would you like that?"
Ludwig, head still bowed, hesitated. So scared. So numb.
Ivan's hands moved up and fell upon his shoulders, an unassuming act, but it was enough to stir Ludwig from his stupor, and finally, Ludwig nodded his head. Ivan looked triumphant. Excited. Toris couldn't help but wonder the things he whispered to Ludwig when they were alone.
"I've got to make arrangements," Ivan said, gripping Ludwig's shoulders firmly, if not gently, "I'll be back later. We'll leave first thing in the morning. We'll wear the parade uniforms. You'll like those. Toris can show you. He'll help you figure out the uniform. Toris is useful for that, at least. I'll be back soon. I promise."
Ignoring the light jab, Toris kept his eyes on the desk and waited for Ivan to take his leave. He did, finally, but not after clapping Ludwig on the back in playful camaraderie, so hard that Ludwig nearly stumbled, and then without a glance at Toris he was gone.
As soon as the door was shut, everything went still. Toris relaxed. The air was breathable.
For a moment, Toris was content to stand there, and let the dismal atmosphere seep out on its own, because he didn't know what to say to Ludwig.
What could he say?
He didn't yet know how to explain to Ludwig that it was just a part of life. Ludwig had to figure out the world on his own. Toris couldn't hold his hand the whole time.
Toris turned to the door, meaning to leave, but Ludwig suddenly staggered back, coming to a rest against the wall, and after seconds of staring silently at his feet, he sank down to the floor and buried his face in his hands.
Toris froze, and looked back.
Dammit.
That unpleasant feeling was back, and for a moment Toris only stood there, shoulder rising up and down and unsure of what to do as Ludwig huddled on the floor and seemed to be giving every effort not to just collapse or dissolve into tears.
He didn't know how to comfort people, but, hell. Hated that look on Ludwig's face.
Finally, Toris found his feet and came over, crouching down and placing a tentative hand on Ludwig's shoulder, whispering, weakly, "Hey. It's alright."
Hardly comforting, but what else could he do? Wasn't good at any of this.
Ludwig didn't move at first, sitting there against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest and shaking his head behind his folded arms, and Toris rested himself on his knees, as a twinge of guilt hit him. Ludwig had been put under Toris' care. The entire point of that had been to prepare him for this. Toris was supposed to get Ludwig ready for war. He hadn't done anything. Hadn't given Ludwig a warning. Hadn't given him the time of day. Hadn't prepared him.
He had left Ludwig to fend for himself.
Ludwig finally spoke, his voice muffled for his arms as he moaned, miserably, "Oh, what did I do? What did I do? Toris, tell me what I did. What did I do?"
His voice was deep, rough and scratchy. Ludwig's voice. The real Ludwig's voice. Not that soft, smooth, velvety rumble that he spoke in when he was not himself.
It was just Ludwig.
"Don't think about it too much, Ludwig," was Toris' lame attempt at comfort, "It won't really matter, in the end. If you think about it a lot... It's just easier to pretend, you know? Just forget it. Forget it."
Suddenly, Ludwig looked up at him, through bleary eyes, and whispered, strangely, "Don't look, right?"
A hesitation, and then he nodded, and said, "Yeah. That's right."
Sure. Whatever.
"Come on. Get up. Let's go."
When Toris tried to pull him upright, Ludwig resisted, and then he looked up at Toris and said, "You know! I knew someone once who used to fight with the students!"
And then Ludwig burst into tears.
Alarmed and feeling more terrible than he had in years, Toris fell back down and rested his hand on Ludwig's shoulder, awkward as he was, and it hurt more than anything to realize that Ludwig had said, 'I knew someone'. Not 'my brother'. Maybe Ludwig really couldn't remember exactly who it was he had known. It was so easy to forget.
The real Ludwig was slowly dissipating.
Ludwig came and went, in and out of the fog of Ivan's presence, sometimes himself and sometimes someone else. Both of them were harmless and gentle, for now, but one of them was aware of himself and one of them only waited for Ivan. One of them knew right from wrong and one of them knew only the authority of Ivan. One of them could think for himself. The other could not. One of them was alert. The other was dreamy. One of them spoke with a rough voice. The other spoke softly and serenely.
One was still. The other was stirring.
Toris liked this Ludwig. Ludwig, who bowed to his conscience and could still feel remorse. This Ludwig, who was burying his face in his shirt and regretting. Liked this Ludwig, because he still felt. Toris couldn't remember that, couldn't remember what it was like to care about people, and didn't want Ludwig to lose that, because through Ludwig was the only time Toris could ever get a glimpse of it.
Toris didn't want Ludwig to go to Moscow with Ivan. He didn't want Ludwig to be forced to oversee troops. To get a taste for it. When Ludwig came back from Moscow, when Ludwig came back from this trip, he wouldn't be Ludwig anymore. Ludwig wouldn't come back. He wouldn't be the same. It would be someone else. He might not ever see this Ludwig again.
Toris sat there with Ludwig, silent and still, until Ludwig finally gathered himself, and when he helped Ludwig up to his feet and steadied him, Toris suddenly wanted to cry, too, because when Ludwig met his eyes, all of that emotion was gone again.
So swiftly the winds had shifted.
The mists were back. Ludwig stood there for a moment, watching Toris with a frightening serenity, and then he tilted his head to the side, his voice silvery as he whispered, dreamily, "Are you alright, Toris?"
Toris could only nod.
Someone else.
It wasn't fair.
Once, he had been someone else, too.