Kitty: I plan on posting this one a lot faster to make up for the week-long wait for the last chapter. Also, I know most of you want to kill me right now. TROLOL! I've never been so good with cliffhangers before! AHAHAHAHA!

Music used for inspiration: You Were Mine by Dixie Chicks, What Hurts the Most by Cascada, My Heart is Lost to You by Brooks and Dunn, Need You Now by Lady Antebellum, Every Breath You Take by Police. (Yes, I intended to rip my own heart out. Thank you.)

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Tch. How annoying.

The Greatest Treasure, You Idiot

Chapter 6

Price

Tortuga was the neutral island off the coast of Spain that harbored thieves, runaway slaves and criminals, too many harlots, always enough booze, and pirates. No matter nationality, anyone could disappear into the rollicking streets of Tortuga and never be found again. It was a place of danger, adrenaline, and a very good time. Normally the crew of the Buscador enjoyed their months at the pirate nest island. Many men would find passage to Spain and visit family, and others had their families right there on Tortuga. They had passed the months on land relatively content, but always aching to get back on the Buscador, their true home, and return to the high seas with their capitan.

But not this time. Buscador Dorado, one of the best Spanish galleons in port, with a crew that hundreds of sailors had tried to join in the past, was landlocked. It had been landlocked, actually, for three years. Ever since she returned to Tortuga, loaded with unimaginable treasures and whispers of magic, she had not set sail again. Her captain, Carriedo, had disappeared into his first mate's house on the outskirts of Tortuga and was never seen again, though the crew repeatedly confirmed he lived. In a manner of speaking. And while the crew was undamaged, and the Buscador in prime condition, the captain, the first mate, and the French cook were rarely seen in public anymore. Well, the captain never seen.

Gilbert would appear and get rip-roaring drunk, cause a huge amount of damage and get into fistfights for no reason; which really wasn't too out of character, if it weren't for the raging grief in his eyes and the sudden collapsing to the ground afterwards as he sobbed. Elizaveta would always be there when he collapsed and take him home, whispering to him softly in a mixture of Hungarian and Austrian-accented German. It was obvious the man was tearing himself apart with guilt over the mysterious disappearance of his younger brother. On his more morose days, he would get drunk early in the day and tell anybody he could corner about his adorable, amazing, brilliant, little brother until Elizaveta or Francis came to drag him away.

Because they had not returned Lovino to the island, they had no way of getting back there. Lovino had told them that without him, they could not bargain for Ludwig's release. Not the least was the fact that Antonio was in no condition to head an expedition of that kind, either. Without anyone to blame but himself, because Gilbert was too good a man to beat his friend while he was already down, the albino Prussian's guilt only festered and grew worse. Not the baby girl, Wilhelmina, waiting for him when he landed was enough to bring him out of it, nor the small boy born just months before now. Many people had wondered why Elizaveta hadn't named the new baby after Gilbert's obviously dead brother, to honor him, and instead named him Elik, a Hungarian name.

"Ludwig isn't dead, so why should I act like it?" had been her answer to anyone's direct questioning. Gilbert had lit up the first time she said that, laughing uproariously and kissing her in the middle of the street in a rare show of his old exuberance, but it didn't lift his guilt for very long. Especially as the more Elik grew, the more like Ludwig he appeared. He had neither his of parents' coloring, but instead the bright blond hair and blue eyes of his uncle. Whenever anyone mentioned it, Gilbert would point out the fact the baby had his mother's sweet, smiling mouth, which made Elizaveta blush to her toes, but Gilbert was always too angry to be embarrassed by his own words. Most people had learned not to say anything.

Francis was convinced he was to blame for Antonio's choice in the cave. He was the one that told Antonio their love was impossible, that he could never be happy with an immortal. Because he had told Antonio to let the siren go, instead of trusting in his feelings, Antonio had lost the love of his life, his will to even care, and Gilbert had lost his beloved younger brother. Francis left for France for two years, but had recently returned, haggard and thinner than he'd ever been before, but trying with all his strength to help pull Antonio out of his misery.

But after three years, Antonio was only getting worse. Most days, he simply sat on his bed, staring at the empty locket, or tossing a large glass orb from hand to hand. Every now and then, Elizaveta would get him to smile or talk at some length and every day she brought her children to cheer him up. But he hadn't laughed the entire time he'd been back. He hadn't even gone out to his ship. He doted on the Buscador, treated it like it was a living thing. Before, when they were landed for the winter and spring months of the worse storms, Antonio was always out checking on his ship, eyeing sails and ropes and wood for any rot or tearing, sometimes sleeping in his captain's quarters and plotting courses for new adventures. He loved his ship. But he hadn't set foot on its deck in three years, hadn't even walked by and taken a peek. Only his crew's devoted attention to the Buscador had kept her in good condition.

And so the crew waited. Again and again they gathered on the Buscador's deck, drinking or singing, keeping her clean and tidy, going down into the city to spend their excess of gold, all while they prayed and hoped their capitan would return to his old, smiling, cheerful self and take them out on the sea again. Some talked about joining other crews, or just retiring, but they were merely words quickly tossed aside. And the waiting continued.

Well, Elizaveta wasn't one to wait. In fact, she had never just sat around and waited for anything in her life. She was the kind of person who focused on a goal and remained focused, forcing anything in her path out of the way, until she got exactly what she aimed for. She never looked back and she refused to regret. Regret only led to despair. And now Antonio, a man she held very dear to her heart, the best friend of her husband, was slowly wasting away because of despair. So she was going to do something about it.

Elizaveta knew pain and suffering. Knew them all too well. Gilbert wasn't her first husband. In fact, Friedrich wasn't even her first son. She had come from a well-to-do family in Hungary, a noble family whose lineage had traced back to the time of the Ostrogoths. However, with the alliance of Austo-Hungary, many Hungarians lost their noble titles, even their wealth and lands. Hungarians were looked down on as savages by the Austrians, despite the link of the kingdom's name. That didn't stop Elizaveta from falling in love with an Austrian count. Her family was still wealthy enough that they were allowed on the outskirts of the greater society. At a ball, she had glimpsed the beautiful Count Edelstein. She had been more than pleased and surprised when he'd asked her to dance less than a week later at another ball they both attended. Despite resistance from his family, Edelstein had proposed. That year of being his wife had been one of the most glorious years of her life, but it had been cut cruelly short. Barely three months pregnant, she had walked in on her husband, always frail and sickly, coughing into a handkerchief until blood splattered the lace-trimmed linen. The next five months had been a terrible blur of grief as his health rapidly declined and he died, just a few weeks before his first child, a son she had tearfully named Roderich in his honor, had been born. The funeral had been a dizzy haze and she was still reeling from birth four months later, when his family, always opposed to Edelstein's regard for her, had come with lawyers and soldiers and demanded her to leave.

Edelstein had set up a Last Will and Testament that declared her the sole guardian of his first born child, regardless of gender. The lands and estates were entailed to his child, since she'd borne a son, and therefore were under Elizaveta's ownership until Roderich came of age. But the Edelstein family declared the papers a forgery and forced her to leave and took her infant son from her. She barely escaped with the true will in her possession. Unable to return home, too proud to return in disgrace and unwilling to make it easy for her husband's family to hunt her down for the true will, she'd joined in with a caravan of Romanian gypsies. Serghei, the head of the clan she'd joined, and she had a horrible first impression, but in the end had an uneasy truce of mutual dislike and respect. With them, she'd finally reached Tortuga, three years later. She met Gilbert then.

He'd been drunk off his butt, reeling down the street when he almost mowed her over. When she snapped at him, he snickered in the most annoying fashion and offered her a huge amount of money to bed him. She'd punched him… and then beat him senseless. The next day, he'd approached her, covered in bruises and bandages, barely able to see out one eye, with a handful of scraggly flowers. The fact that he'd tried to apologize had astonished her, though it didn't stop her from kicking him in the balls when he ended said apology with "you should be honored I thought you were awesome enough to be my whore." They'd become uneasy friends, until they'd bonded over beer one night and she spilled to him her life story. He vowed to get enough money to help her track down a famous lawyer and win her son back, and even repeated the offer when sober the next day. She'd kissed him in the middle of the street and they'd been lovers ever since. When she told Gilbert she was pregnant, he'd taken her, in the middle of the night, to the Buscador, where the whole crew waited with lit torches, and had Antonio marry them, since there weren't any reliable Catholic priests around. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she could remember the smell of jasmine, the look of embarrassment, joy, and terror in his red eyes as he stammered out his vows, the feel of his fingers on her chin before he kissed her much more sweetly than he'd ever done before.

Now, eight years later, they had three beautiful children and a good home (right outside a pirate's den of a city, but well), and enough gold that her dream of winning back her son was almost a reality. But how could she remind Gilbert of that promise with a missing brother, a heart-broken best friend, and a guilt-ridden other best friend? She wanted her family, her whole family, to be happy and she was going to make it happen.

Magic started this mess and magic would surely fix it.

One night, a young woman, a woman of a brothel Elizaveta often visited to dispense medicine and reading lessons, came to the stoop. When Elizaveta heard the message, her sleepy eyes widened and she grinned fiercely.

The Last Revenge was in port at last.

.

Her informant told her Captain Kirkland had remained on his ship for the night. When Elizaveta approached the docks, she could see the large, square of bright light quivering over the waves behind the stern of the ship, spilling out of the cabin windows. She lowered her hood to wink at a seamen standing guard at the gangway and he let her by with an appreciative leer. She made sure to add a bit of extra sway to her hips as she sauntered up the gangplank, but as soon as she made it out of sight, she all but ran towards the cabin door. She pressed her ear to the portal, and distantly heard the sound of soft music playing. Holding her breath, she pushed the latch-knob down, sighing in relief when it opened. On the other side was the large poop cabin, dark and empty, with its oval table bolted to the floor and a large world map pinned to its surface. A large globe, even bigger than her head, was bolted at the edge of the table and a few sheaves of parchment were weighed down by bright, glass bunnies with wings. Starlight streaming through the large glass panes caught in the pretty glass figures, giving them a faintly green and silver glow. She frowned at the strange paperweights as she tip-toed to the side door that led to the captain's quarters. The music was gaining in volume and Elizaveta stopped dead, heart pounding painfully.

A violin.

Tears gathered in her eyes. The last time she heard a violin- her shaking fingers covered her mouth and she closed her eyes, letting the soft, beautiful croon of the instrument fill her with images of that long ago life. Of Roderich's beautiful pale face frowning just so as he concentrated, the bow sliding gracefully through the air and slender fingers pressing down on the strings at the neck. She took a deep shuddering breath and forced herself to move. That life was over and done and it was time she helped the men she loved in this life.

She marched up to the door and flung it open. In one hand she held a cocked pistol, but it was pointed to the ground. In the cabin, Arthur lowered his violin and turned to look at her, huge bushy brows high. She blinked at Arthur's utter lack of surprise. He merely nodded to her politely and walked over to where the velvet lined violin case rested. With brisk, efficient motions, he set the violin down, snapped the case shut, and turned back to her, leaning on the table.

"Good evening. A bit late to be visiting another man when you are a married women, don't you think? Of course, this is Tortuga…" Arthur trailed off, smirking. Elizaveta sneered at him.

"You know for the fact I am not and never have been for sale, Kirkland. You knew I was coming tonight."

"You had your gypsy friends keeping an eye out for my ship. My less than savory friends informed me of this. Why do you think I stayed on board? I knew we'd need more privacy than some pirate hole," Arthur explained, seating himself on his chair.

A small waffling sort of noise followed by a thump had Elizaveta spinning around, pistol rising. Arthur sighed, getting to his feet, as Elizaveta blinked in surprise once again. Lying on the bed, mostly hidden by the dark blue drapes that fell in front of the bunk, was a tall, fair-haired young man. His shaggy dirty-blond hair fanned over the cream-colored linen pillow he was hugging to his chest and had one leg draped over. Drool pooled over the cloth and what looked like some sort of sauce was still staining his mouth. In his fist, he clutched a pair of shining spectacles. Arthur tutted under his breath and knelt by the bed, wiping whatever was on the young man's face away with a snowy-white handkerchief.

"Still such a boy," Arthur murmured fondly. He worked the eyepieces from the boy's hand. He got to his feet, slipping the spectacles into his waistcoat pocket. "He'll probably break these in his sleep like he did that last pair. I'm sure you've heard about Alfred." He glanced over at her, his smirk still soft.

"Yes… Francis mentioned him. I see he stayed with you," Elizaveta noted, finally sheathing her pistol and smiling at the adorable picture the lanky, sun-browned young man made.

"I really have no idea why. We yell at each other more than we get along, but… there are moments…" Arthur shook his head. "You are not here to discuss my protégé, Mrs. Beilschmidt. You're here to discuss your Spaniard." He watched mutely as the light died in Elizaveta's eyes, making her beautiful green eyes dark. "I cannot help you."

"What are you talking about! Of course you can! You have magic!" Elizaveta exclaimed. Arthur sat on the edge of the bed and touched Alfred's hair gently.

"Not enough for something like that. Magic comes with a price and my paltry amount could not pay high enough to do anything. I cannot heal despair. I cannot heal a man's heart," Arthur stated clearly, his voice rather regretful. "I hate that bastard, but because of him, even inadvertently, Alfred has remained by my side. Carriedo saved me from myself that day in Siracusa three years ago. I would have lost the only thing that has mattered to me if he hadn't chased after his beloved siren." Piercing eyes met hers. "For that reason, I would help him, but I cannot. In this, you must trust me."

"You... you have to do something! You owe him! Just… bring Lovino back!" Elizaveta begged, tears forming before she dashed them away angrily.

"You have no idea what you ask of me. When Lovino left, he left to where Antonio could never find him. If he were anywhere in this reality, Antonio would know and seek him. He is well and truly gone from here. I cannot span that distance with my puny power," Arthur said, the vein in his temple throbbing.

"Another… reality? Another world?"

"It is and it isn't another world. It is this world, but it is in infinite number. One decision here continues this reality, but in another, there are the consequences of a thousand different decisions. Today you decided to see me. In another reality, you decided to wait until tomorrow morning. Or decided never to come. Do you understand?"

"I think so…"

"Thus bringing him back is an impossibility for me. Your Spaniard should have made a better choice," Arthur muttered dryly.

"But surely… why can you not turn back time? Give him another chance to choose. It was never his lack of love that made him choose poorly!" Elizaveta pressed. Arthur glared at her, ears flushing red.

"It was his lack of faith! Faith in himself! Faith in love! In this reality he will always have that flaw!" Arthur snapped. "If I turn back time, they will not remember what had already happened, he will not have learned from his mistake. And who knows the repercussions it would have on all the realities. Once again, you have no idea what you ask. The curse has been played out here."

"Curse?" Elizaveta murmured. Arthur sighed.

"Lovino's curse. All along there had been a curse on the siren. Only love, and faith in that love, could break it. Antonio might have won his journey, but he failed the curse. He failed Lovino," Arthur emphasized. Elizaveta gritted her teeth.

"Why didn't anyone tell him? How could he have possibly known he was being tested if no one told him!" Elizaveta snapped.

"That's not how magic works! Lovino was physically unable to tell him the curse. If I had told him, then he wouldn't have been able to break it," Arthur retorted harshly. "Do you truly wish to help him, Elizaveta Beilschmidt?"

"Yes!"

"Then kill him."

Silence stretched on between them, grim and horrified.

"W-What?" Elizaveta breathed.

Arthur sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "He's only suffering more being alive. His condition will only become worse. This isn't just mortal pining. There's so much more- Gah!" He got to his feet and began to pace, his gestures becoming wild. "Lovino's curse was very deliberately set. It could be broken by only one soul. He is not allowed to seek the soul for himself, the soul must seek and find him. Only one soul in every reality, in all the many thousands will do. Antonio is that soul. If he dies, eventually he will be reborn and he will seek out Lovino again. The faster you kill him, the faster you can restart the curse," Arthur said simply, making her blood run cold.

"I could never… none of us could do that…" Elizaveta murmured. Arthur sank into his chair again and sighed.

"That's my only advice."

"Is there another Antonio in the other reality that will end it instead?" Elizaveta asked softly.

"No. When I said in every reality, I meant in all the possible decisions and realities that overlap, there is only one Antonio. His decisions will not affect reality until he breaks the curse. There is only this one and he happens to be in this reality."

"Can't there… Isn't there any other way? Truly? He has no hope in this lifetime?" Elizaveta whispered, her voice small and forlorn.

"Well there is… but knowing won't help you. You have no control over it," Arthur muttered, breaking himself off.

"No, tell me! I must know," Elizaveta pleaded.

"A miracle, really. It is not only Antonio who lacks faith. Lovino, too, did not have enough faith. Lovino is a siren and, as his Price for his Power, he has no soul. Antonio is his soul, his heart. If Antonio had chosen properly, Lovino would have shed his immortality and Power and gained what we humans take for so much granted," his eyes darted to the slumbering Alfred across the room. "He would have gained love, a heart, a soul. However, believing that a mortal, a fallible, weak mortal, could ever possibly see past what he could give as a being of magic… well… that's a bit difficult, I would suspect. If Lovino could find hope in love, hope enough to cast aside every consequence, then maybe he could be the one to break his own curse. I doubt he realizes this little loophole, though. Contracts don't always come on parchment, with fine writing difficult, but legible to peruse when one is in doubt," Arthur joked wryly.

"So… only Lovino… can help them," Elizaveta murmured. Arthur nodded.

"Only Lovino, now. Antonio did his part and failed. You might as well kill the poor bastard. It would take a miracle for that cranky prat of a siren to find hope and realize he had the power all along to love."

"Don't kill him," said a groggy voice. The two jumped, a small squawk of surprise pulled from Elizaveta's throat. They both turned to see Alfred sit up, wiping at the drool with the back of his fist as he blinked.

"Alfred, go back to bed. Mrs. Beilschmidt is just about to leave," Arthur ordered crossly as he stood from his chair. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"I was sayin' somethin', Cap'n. Look, Mrs. Howeveryousayyourname, don't kill that Antonio man. I believe in him and that golden… Lovino, right?" Elizaveta nodded mutely, struck dumb by his words. He grinned at her. "Lovino… saw something that day. He saw what would happen if the contract was made, he knew that everything I like about Artie here would be gone. That he wouldn't even be Artie and then the person I loved would be gone."

"Don't call me Artie! Bloody hell!"

"Believe in a miracle, Beilsmit," Alfred continued, ignoring the Brit. "Miracles do happen. I was an orphan, with a younger brother to feed. I used to blacken boots and pickpockets. And one day, this posh git strolled up. I knew he'd be one to stiff me on my charge, so I plucked out a bit more quid than he meant me to have and took off, easy as you please. Then, somehow, he managed to find me. I was just trying to get my brother somewhere outta the rain, 'cause he was coughin' real bad, and Artie grabbed me. Instead of whippin' me, or takin' me to the constables, he took one look at me 'n' my brother and helped us. My brother's at a boardin' school, Eton, he wants to be a doctor for animals. And me? Artie asked me if I wanted to be a pirate and here I am! Mattie, my brother, he might have died if we lived on the streets much longer. But 'cause of a miracle, Artie appeared in my life and it got a lot better and my brother is all well now." Alfred ended his story, grinning widely as Arthur blushed so red steam almost poured from his ears. Elizaveta giggled behind her hand.

"I will, Alfred. Thank you," she said as she got to her feet.

"You should come and talk with us again," Alfred offered brightly. "Maybe next time during the day. You should bring your own food, though, if you come for lunch or dinner. Arthur's food is always pretty gross."

"You used to love that food! So shut up!" Arthur exclaimed as Elizaveta laughed again. Arthur turned to her, fuming as Alfred's loud, rollicking laughter spilled into the room like sunshine. "Remember that Antonio must not know of the curse if you want him to break it in this lifetime. You must keep it from him, or no manner of miracle will allow Lovino to return to this reality."

"Yes… thank you…" Elizaveta murmured. She curtseyed automatically- awkwardly as she wore men's breeches- and left the ship.

.

When she returned to her lovely stone cottage, the moon was high in the sky, past its zenith. She yawned, knowing the day ahead would most likely be an unpleasant, sleepy fog. Caring for a young child, a toddler, and an infant was no mean feat, and added to that were three grown men full of guilt and remorse. No, Elizaveta's days were not the easiest anymore. She sighed and slipped past the gate into the kitchen garden. Their small cottage was surrounded by high, ivy-covered walls Elizaveta and Gilbert had built to keep out any drunken sailors. Once she woke up to a huddle of drunken bodies on her herb patch.

Never again.

A hook was waiting patiently for her cloak beside the door. She drifted through the house, information bouncing in her skull, checking every lock. She then checked each room's occupant, smiling at Friedrich and Wilhelmina, whom had curled up on the same bed again. In another room, Antonio slept fitfully, muttering and moaning under his breath. While she now understood just why this ordeal was affecting him so much, it didn't make her feel any better as he flailed through nightmares of being so close, and then letting his treasure slip away once more. She finally made it to her own bedroom, the crib where Elik lay a dark shadow at the foot of the bed. She paused in the door way, smiling sadly.

Gilbert sat at the window, one foot resting on the sill he perched on, the other on the floor. An arm lay over his knee, clasping his hanging free hand loosely, and he was staring out the window, up into the eastern sky. She crossed the room and knelt beside him, resting her cheek and hand on his thigh. She raised bright green eyes to his face as he looked down at her. They both smiled, though his was sharp and hollow.

"Hello, Lizzie. How did it go?"

"You had men looking for the Last Revenge, didn't you?" Elizaveta returned with a resigned sigh.

"Anything… anything for Ludwig, for Antonio, and Francis. I can't stand this. I can't stand how heavy everything is," Gilbert murmured, returning his gaze to the stars shining outside.

"I know, Liebste," Elizaveta soothed, kissing his leg through the thin cotton of his night drawers.

"Did the Brit say anything? Is he going to help?"

"He cannot- No, listen. I believe him. Magic has limits, especially a mortal's magic. The only thing we can do is pray."

"Pray for what," Gilbert demanded harshly. Elizaveta laid her hand over his.

"A miracle, Liebste. And hasn't God given us so many already? How could we not believe that He has so many more in store for us? Believe in miracles,Gilbert, and come to bed," she told him, standing up and holding out her hand.

He stared at her, blood red eyes shocked. Then, he grinned and snickered. With a sudden move that reminded her just how quick her husband could be, he swept her off her feet and carried her, now giggling like a young girl, to the bed.

"You always bring out the light in me, Lizzie," Gilbert murmured as he moved over her.

"We bring it out in each other," Elizaveta whispered back.

"Ja… how do you feel about a fifth kid?"

"Oh Lord, help me."

"Kesesesese."

.

Kitty: Awwww, PruHun fluff. Sorry there wasn't a lot of Antonio or Lovino in here. Wait, there pretty much wasn't any at all. ;w; I felt I needed the explanation Elizaveta got from Arthur. Also, in there somewhere is a bit of a foreshadow. If you've read Sea Foam, a key bit of wording should make you go 'ping!' If not, it's all right. It's still implied heavily enough. XD