Warnings: Person A punches Person B in the face.

-2.18-

"So, who is this 'Mr. Edelstein,' anyways?" Ludwig asks.

I carefully lay my finished canvas down next to me before flashing him a grin, "He's my uncle Roddy!"

At the confused tilt of a blond eyebrow, I continue, "Roderich Edelstein is the fratello of fratello and I's mamma. He can be kind of an asshole sometimes, but I know he means well. Uncle Roddy's just strict because he cares!" I smile, "When we were little, fratello and I would visit uncle Roddy a lot with mamma. We never really had one, so he was like our substitute papa!" I giggle, "He and mamma sure act like it! They argue like an old married couple."

"You… don't have a Vater?"

"Nope! He died when fratello and I weren't even a year old. He'd been horribly sick for a while; they couldn't find a cure on time, so mamma was widowed…" A small, irrepressible frown forms, "Ever since then, she's been trying really hard to make up for that. At the time, mamma and papa weren't married yet, so she kept her maiden name, but mamma made sure that fratello and I would carry on papa's last name and the Vargas legacy. She's always been kind of overprotective; our trips to cousin Francis's house are some of the few times mamma lets us go off on our own. I'm just surprised that when uncle Roddy arrives, she's not coming with him!"

I look at Ludwig, "So, Luddy, what's your story?"

He blinks in response, face blank, "My story?"

"Si! I told you mine, so now you have to tell me yours!"

He sighs, "I can assure you it's not nearly as interesting."

I lightly bump into him, "As if, you grew up in the woods! What was it like?"

He makes a low humming noise, "Well, to start, spirit communities aren't even close to being as big as your human towns. At most, a community consists of about ten to fifteen people. And, also unlike humans, spirit animals don't lose track of their heritage. If you're descended from someone important, you're told that as soon as you're old enough to comprehend it. It's not really brought up in polite conversation, because ancestry means a lot to spirits. If you're openly descended from a terrible person, people are going to believe you to be terrible."

My face scrunches up in thought for a moment, "Luddy, are you descended from someone terrible?"

"No," He says flatly, "but I'm not one to scream their ancestor's name from the rooftops, so even if I was, I wouldn't tell you."

"Oh! Then you're descended from someone great!"

"Why are you so persistent on me being related to a well-known figure?"

"Because if you weren't, it wouldn't have affected you enough to bring it up now!" I peer up at him happily, "Am I right?"

Ludwig looks troubled, "Yes, you are."

"Yay! I'm right!" I cheer, "Now, as you were saying?"

"HEY IDIOTAS!"

I look over Ludwig's shoulder, "CIAO, FRATELLO!"

The German visibly tenses, "HEY FELI, POTATO BASTARD, UNCLE RODERICH'S HERE!"

"OKAY!" I excitedly jump to my feet and grab the canvas with one hand, Ludwig's with the other, "Come on!"

With meaningless protests on the other's part, I dash through the neighbor's vineyard, towing the somewhat bulky wolf behind me. Soon, the manor grows closer and closer, various shapes becoming solid in outline. Wrapping around a marble fountain is the cobblestone driveway. Said fountain had caused much debate in the past between Arthur and Francis, seeing as the bunny sculpture, made of white marble, bouncing along while spitting into the pool of the water piece, suspiciously resembles Arthur's rabbit form. Parked in front of the strange fountain, stretched before the front doors to the villa, is a black limousine. Walking out of said extravagant car is a man with straight, brown hair, chocolate-colored eyes, and glasses, his door condescendingly held open by a spirit with a devilish smirk.

"UNCLE RODDY!" I exclaim, pouncing on the brunette figure.

He cries out for a moment, forced to the door via hug, "Oh, hello, Feliciano."

A rambunctious cackle erupted from one of the new arrivals, "Well, looks like you haven't changed much! Guess Elizabeta was right about this after all; if this is the way Feli greets everyone, who knows what creeps he could hug?"

"Gilbert, shut up."

"Ve~ I missed you so much! It feels like forever since I last saw you!"

"It's only been a few weeks."

"Hey, bastard, what do you think you're doing loitering around over there?!"

I release my uncle from the death grip of happiness and look at Ludwig curiously. He's acting strange. His face is hard, hands are clenched into fists, and icy blue eyes are equally as cold as they are intense, staring straight at-

"W-West?!" Gilbert, surprisingly enough, sputters.

Wordlessly, Ludwig approaches the other.

"West, holy shit, it's you! I thought I'd never see you again-" Gilbert doesn't finish his sentence, because, to the collective gasps of the witnesses, Ludwig lifts his clenched fist, pulls it back, and clocks him right in the jaw.

Lovino gives a low whistle, "Damn, maybe I misjudged this guy. Anyone who hates Gilbert's fine by me!"

The gray wolf merely turns on his heels and storms off, slamming the doors to the mansion shut on his way in. For a good while, we stand there, mouths agape, staring silently at the front doors in shock at what just transpired. The atmosphere is heavy and tense, even for someone as clueless as myself.

"Gil, are you okay?!" Toni does us the favor of breaking the mind-numbingly still moment, attaching to the arctic wolf like a leech.

"Luddy!" I yell, running off to go find him. As he had before, I slam the front doors open and closed behind me with a resounding bang.

As I dash upstairs to the second floor, only one thought is on my mind: Ludwig is pissed. And not just the mild irritation I've seen from him thus far; no, he currently harbors the kind of seething, fuming anger I'd previously thought only Lovino could pull off. It's the kind of anger in which your face flushes a bright, hot, tomato red, your entire body blatantly refuses to cooperate, your teeth run the risk of shattering to pieces, and your pure, raw, vengeful wrath seems to possess the rest of you. Gilbert had been the one to cause all of this. As I near the guest room I'd designated to Ludwig's comfort, I hear a harsh string of German. After a loud tantrum, he cuts off in a frustrated shout, the unsettling sound of something breaking echoing throughout the halls with a pop.

"Luddy!" I burst through the door. Ludwig stands next to the wall with a fierce glare, the fist connected to his uninjured shoulder planted into the plaster. To my distress, when he removes his hand, his knuckles are bleeding.

"Oh no, Luddy, are you okay?!" I begin to fuss over him, taking hold of the harmed appendage to peer at the damage, "Come on; sit!"

I insistently drag him over to the very bed where I'd patched him up just yesterday and seat him upon the cushions. Fretting, I dig through the bedside desk drawer, yanking out gauze and bandage wraps. And so, for the second time in the course of two days, I find myself slathering gauze over some part of the German's body, then neatly winding a series of snow-white linens about the wounded area. Ludwig really needs to stop doing stuff to get himself hurt!

Which leads me back to the root of this whole mess: what happened between Ludwig and Gilbert? I mean, obviously, they have to know each other, or the gray wolf wouldn't have reacted so strongly to the other's presence. And, if not going off of the mysterious blond's unusual behavior, even Gilbert, the "awesome one" himself, seemed out of character. Since when does something surprise him? Gilbert's always been a very boisterous, go-with-the-flow type of person. When life gives him lemons, he squirts them in mamma and uncle Roddy's faces. Even if he does get caught off-guard by something, he's always quick to recover. I really don't think he recovered so easily from being punched in the face this time…

"You need to stop getting injured; it's making me worried!" I scold Ludwig to the best of my ability.

"Hm," He grunts in response, flexing his now-bandaged fist. His eyes are still aflame at whatever managed to anger him so.

I sigh, "Do you think you're ready to go downstairs again? I don't know what's up with you and Gilbert, but you can't just hide up here forever, you know."

He takes a deep breath and stands, "Ja, I'm fine. I still have to yell at the arschloch anyways."

"What- Hey!" I rush to catch up as Ludwig begins a brisk pace out the room and towards the stairs, "You're not going to deck Gilbert again, are you?!"

The German continues to pay no mind to my concerns as he takes the steps two at a time, landing heavily at the bottom and following the voices fluttering in from elsewhere. As the sounds of conversation grow louder, we near the fancy lounge, a garnet and golden room set aside for more extravagant company. Figures uncle Roddy would insist upon using this one, as opposed to the casual lounge. Ludwig nearly pulls the door off its hinges, causing everyone in the room to cease their idle chatter and turn towards him.

Besides the color pallet, this room is quite similar to its cool companion, furnished with two couches and armchairs of velveteen red with sunny embroidery, a cherry-wood coffee table placed in the center. On the armchair facing the door sits Gilbert, an uncooked steak pressed to his, probably swollen, black eye. Next to him on a couch is Toni, fawning over his friend with a worried expression, fratello seated beside him with a nasty roll of the eyes. Opposite to Toni is uncle Roddy, cousin Francis decidedly taking up the second space on the couch, Arthur standing moodily behind him.

"Aha, W-West!" Gilbert's fiery eyes widen at Ludwig's entrance, his ever-present grin faltering, "Long time, no see…?" His voice meekly trails off as the other approaches, stopping behind the unoccupied armchair.

"Four centuries," He states, face contorted into a nasty scowl, "It's been four centuries since I last saw you, bruder. Four centuries."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second, these assholes are brothers?!" Fratello exclaims, only to be promptly silenced by Toni, a tanned hand forced upon his mouth.

"Four centuries, no word of what happened to you, leading me to think you were dead," The newly-placed bandages on his knuckles strain under his vice-like grip, "And all this time," He chuckles humorlessly, "All this time, you were fucking around, playing hero."

"West- !"

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD," Ludwig shouts over the other, "I thought you were dead, when you could have stopped by anytime! You could have just visited once in awhile, just to let me know you were still breathing, but nein. Nein, you were too busy tangling yourself in human affairs to even spare a thought for your kleiner bruder, who so patiently bought his time and waited for you to come back," If I didn't know better, I'd say he's on the brink of tears, "Well, you know what? Fuck you. Fuck you, and fuck your entire existence to hell!"

"Bruder- !"

Ludwig turns and storms off before Gilbert can finish, "FUCK YOU."

Without a second thought, the devilish wolf stands and runs after him, completely forgetting about the steak he was tenderly pressing to his eye earlier.

"BRUDER, WAIT!"

The awkward silence that follows lasts only for a moment before fratello manages to wrangle out of Toni's ridiculous method of shutting him up, "Cazzo, the one remotely cool potato-eater I meet, and he's related to that walking disaster-zone!"

And of course, Francis decides to respond with, "Ah, mais mon cousin, by 'walking disaster-zone,' are you referring to Gilbert or Ludwig?"

"OH, FUCK YOU!"

I attempt to chase after them once again, but something pulls me back.

"Feli," I turn around to see Roderich, "No. They need to sort this out on their own."

And so, a pout on my lips, I watch and listen as the wolves run amuck in the mansion. I'm pretty sure Francis begins to cry when the audible crash of yet another vase sounds from somewhere in the hallway.

A/N:

Aha, yeah, this is point one of two in which Ludwig punches Gilbert in the face! (Btw, there's going to be a call back to this in the intermission.) I'm pretty sure punch two is in the next sub-part, actually. Speaking of sub-parts, this is the last bit of 2.1! Yay! Now, onto 2.2, A. K. A. the last sub-part before we reach the half-way point of part 2! Otherwise known as 'the extent of which I've pre-written this thing.'

No, really, I've only written like four pages into the second half of the plot. Also, just for clarification, the second half of part 2's plot begins with sub-part 3. I know the whole sub-parts thing can be kind of complicated, so just let me know if your brain hurts because of something! I don't bite! =3

Oh, and here's something fun to do: GUESS THE PLOT! The fake game in which readers try to guess what happens in the next sub-part, but no one wins anything because I'm kind of lazy! Well, the winner does get a shout-out; it's just kind of a minor thing I want to try out. You don't have to do it if you don't want to. I just think it might be an interesting way to get the readers involved and thinking! =D

Responses to review(s):

APDubtalia: Haha, I know, right? XD That's part of why I'm possibly going to make that AU a thing! It's alright; I was just slightly confused. And now you know his gut reaction: violence. Hehehehe. =3

Seele Esser Deutsch: Gahh, thank you so much! You guys are so nice to me, and I don't really understand why! X3 I mean, I'm just some random fan that was upset at the distinct lack of Rome x Germania content. That's literally why I write fanfiction.

Anyways, until next time! See you tomorrow!