March 11 - 13, 1938

Incorporating Corporations

She was a flame. A hunger yearned in her for more power and just more. More of everything. The flame that was her started small and then erupted, bursting everything she touched into flames.

She would do almost anything to get what she wanted.

Hearts were pawns. Blessed with a cunning smile and good looks, she charmed herself into any situation, leaving before the morning.

But only after she got what she wanted.

"Elizaveta dearest, are you ready?"

She smiled, setting the brush down lightly, giving her hair one last toss.

"I'm coming."

Every social gathering was the same. People bragging loudly over one another, getting a bit too hearty on drinks. Business was discussed, fake smiles and lies of congratulations were passed around. Not a single pair of eyes had that sparkle in them that said, I mean what I'm saying. No, they all might as well just say, "I could've done better."

"I hate these," Roderich complained, twirling his glass of champagne in his palm.

"Nobody is really forcing you to go," Elizaveta said, shrugging her shoulders. She looked stunning as always, wavy brown hair pushed all to the side over a long-sleeved tight black dress.

They were arm in arm, walking the block up to the snazzy media theatre Roderich's agent had chosen for tonight's show of its own.

"It's organized by my boss."

"Oh," she sighed. "That's different."

Roderich had loved music from a very young age. He never quit playing, on the piano banging out song after song for days on end. He had played for the duke and duchess, for royals and officials, and at many a gathering.

All of the attention just got tiring. The eyes constantly on him, not quite recognizing him as a swoon-worthy movie star, but as someone to look up to and admire. A golden pedestal he had never wanted, with only himself to blame.

Elizaveta had been a friend of his for a while. She was his sanity, keeping him calm when he really wanted to punch people. Roderich couldn't thank her enough for all of the efforts she put into making him who he was today: a celebrity.

Roderich didn't quite know all there was to the mystery that was Elizaveta Hedervary. She was intelligent and calm to the public eye, but the air around her words was always cold and cruel, each spoken word like a whip to your pride. Even a simple hello could seem like she was laughing at you.

It was pure irony. The woman who kept him sane was driving him mad.

She pushed open the doors, revealing a fully filled room with loud, live music and half of the people already drunk on alcohol and gossip.

"I'm going to go grab a brandy. Meet up later?" Elizaveta said, unclasping her arm from around his.

He nodded, and she slunk off, disappearing in the mass.

Elizaveta hated parties. She loved attention, but hated having to talk to so many inferior people, their heads too far up their own asses to notice how stupid they were.

She rolled her eyes, trying to avoid as many people as she could on her way to the bar. After all her hard work, she deserved a drink.

The bartender looked her up and down, pushing his hair back out of his face as she walked up to him.

"Let me get the lady a drink," he said, licking his lips and mixing something. He came back with a martini in a fancy glass. "On me."

Elizaveta smirked and pushed it back. "Do I look like a charity case?" she laughed.

"Two brandy's. One for me, one for the lady. She'd like something a little stronger than that shit you slipped her."

"I didn't think you'd show up at a fancy place like this," Elizaveta laughed. "I'm surprised."

"I've got business to attend to. Don't think I'm here because I want to see you," he growled, grabbing the seat next to her.

He was slender but muscular, slightly short, but his most remarkable feature was his pale skin, white hair, and bloodshot eyes. His hair looked almost like silver, as if it were made of snow and Christmas tinsel.

"What business could you possibly have here?" she smirked, grabbing the glass the bartender passed her.

"None of your business."

"Clever."

They both just stared at each other in silence as they took a sip, the tension almost visible.

"I'm here to talk to your boyfriend, actually," Gilbert said, breaking the silence.

Elizaveta raised her eyebrows, replying, "Roderich? He's my client."

"Client with benefits," he muttered.

She clenched her fists. "What would you need with Roderich?"

"Simply put, I need him to perform his real job."

"What real job?"

He let out a barking laugh. "Look, Eliza, I have my flaws. Being dumb is not one of them. I'm well aware that your buddy over there, having the time of his life talking to people he hates, is not just a famous concert pianist."

"You'd be right, he's not just a famous concert pianist, he's also pretty good in bed. You'd be surprised."

"You are pathetic," Gilbert spat out, setting his drink down forcefully.

"Pathetic? Oh, I'm pathetic? That was just a comment. I never told you to take it personally, but you did."

He growled, making a step towards her so she was but inches away.

"Dare me," she whispered in his ear.

"Elizaveta?" called out Roderich, sneaking up behind a plump looking man to stand next to her. "There you are! Who's this?"

She stepped backwards to pick up her drink again. "This is Gilbert Beilshmidt. He's an, ah, acquaintance."

He nodded, eyeing Gilbert, who gave him the dirtiest look possible in return.

"I see. Mind if I steal her?"

"Like hell I care," he replied, chuckling over his words.

"Excuse me?"

"Ignore him. He's always like this."

"She'd have to be tied up for me to steal her," Gilbert joked.

Roderich took her by the arm and led her away from the bar, knowing Eliza had a tendency to drink.

She took her free arm and trailed her fingers lightly over Gilbert's arm, whispering lightly, "Feel free to get some ideas."

He narrowed his eyes and watched her walk off with the unsuspecting Roderich.

Roderich was, well, the only word Gilbert could think of was pretty. He had fair, pale skin, completely unscarred or blemished, with dark brown, mussy hair, and deep blue eyes.

Gilbert could see why Elizaveta liked him. She took pride in being in charge, and Roderich was naive, intelligent, and probably easy to bend. Literally.

He smirked at the thought. She was too good.

"I feel like I know him," Roderich said suspiciously, throwing a look back over his shoulder.

"You might, from world meetings," Elizaveta said.

He sighed softly. "He's...?"

"Yes, he's Germany's brother. Prussia."

"Teutonic knights?"

"Precisely."

"I know him for sure, but not from anything recent."

Elizaveta tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we knew each other when we were younger."

"Friends?"

"Definitely not," he laughed. "I still don't think he likes me very much."

"I told you, he's always like that."

"How do you know him?"

She bit back her lip. "We w- are friends."

"I've never heard you mention him before."

"It's alright, we haven't spoken in a while, anyway."

Elizaveta didn't feel like telling Roderich everything. It wasn't like she was lying ,she just wasn't telling the whole truth. Besides, she didn't live in the past anymore. She lived in the present. In the present, she was wiser, smarter, more cautious about how she treated her heart, and how others did as well.

"No more drinks tonight," Roderich smiled.

She agreed.

Gilbert snuck out the back, feeling sick to his stomach. If only his brother would have warned him that Elizaveta's little boy toy was none other that Roderich Edelstein. A simple heads up would've been nice.

It wasn't that Gilbert hated Roderich for who he was, he hated Roderich for what he had done, and what he himself had done to him. It was a little game the two played, and the prize had always been Eliza.

Not that she was ever aware of that.

For a long stretch of time, Gilbert had thought he had won. Then one day, he screwed everything up, and she left. Now here she was, dangling Roderich right in front of his nose.

No, Gilbert hated Roderich not because he knew what he was doing to him, but because he didn't know.

"I'm done playing games," Elizaveta said softly behind him.

He turned around sharply. "How long have you been standing there?"

"About thirty seconds," she shrugged.

"Go away. I don't want you here."

"Gilbert, I know full well that's a lie and you'd come crawling back at the next sight of me-"

"-Don't assume things like that!" he yelled hotly, clutching the wall for support.

"It's not an assumption, it's an observation," she replied, smiling faintly.

"I don't want a whore like you back," he spat.

She laughed lightly, taking a few swaggering steps closer. "It's not nice to call people names, dear."

"Don't "dear" me-"

She grabbed his collar and brought him down to her height, staring straight into his eyes. "Let's make this very clear. Just because I don't want you falling back into my arms doesn't mean I'm not willing to give you one last chance to forget me."

His breath shook, and then he steadied it to say, "Make it unforgettable."

With the force of years of battle, Elizaveta all but threw him against the brick wall, hands wrapped around his waist as she kissed the base of his neck.

Gilbert cried out, whether in pleasure or pain from being pushed, she didn't care.

The party had long ended, and the room had an eerie, echoing silence to it. They dashed through the empty halls and up the stairs to the lavish hotel, grabbing an open room.

"Who's room is this?" Gilbert moaned in between touches and breathes.

"Don't know, don't care," Elizaveta replied, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as she placed him down on the bed, straddling his hips.

He looked up at her, and she reached down into her bag and brought up a pair of handcuffs.

"Someone was prepared," he smirked.

She just smiled mysteriously, chaining him to the bed.

Clothes were strewn on the floor. Shoes, a shirt, a dress, and jewelry lay in a heap.

Elizaveta leaned down to kiss him deeply, then threw her leg off the bed and stood up.

"What the hell are you doing?" Gilbert asked flatly, confused.

She just smiled, putting her dress back on. "Did you really believe me?"

It all sunk into Gilbert's brain and his heart and stomach dropped. "Let me go."

"Why? You look cute like that."

"Let me go!" he yelled, struggling against the handcuffs.

Elizaveta put her shoes back on and sat down on the bed next to him, crossing her legs. "Let me tell you something. Take this as a hint, or a lesson. I don't ever want you back, and I never will. You're going to have to learn to leave me alone. Gilbert, you are the pawn I've stolen that I have no use for anymore. Good luck."

She stepped up and walked away, waving goodbye with the tips of her fingers.

The handcuffs wouldn't budge.

There was a bigger battle going on than the one that had just started. It was the war inside of Ludwig. The internal battle he was facing between the damned cunning Feliciano and his own values.

His own values told him that Feliciano was not as dumb as he had once seemed, and he was too dangerous to be in such a cause. Reckless.

His own values told him to stay away.

His thoughts told him to stay.

The door opened forcefully, slamming into the wall. Gilbert stormed into the room, face red and body shaking.

"What's the matter?" Ludwig asked, turning to face him curiously.

"I swear to everything on this Earth, I will make sure that whore will pay for everything she has done," he snarled furiously, pushing a lamp off the table and onto the floor, shattering upon contact.

"Goddamn Elizaveta Hedervary," he muttered. "And you!" He turned and pointed at Ludwig. "You could've warned me!"

"Warned you?"

"Why didn't you tell me she'd be there?"

"I knew you'd freak out," Ludwig shrugged.

"Well no shit I am!" he cried out, flipping a small desk over.

"You better calm down right now," Ludwig warned him.

Gilbert laughed maniacally, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'm sick of her! Every time she makes it seem like she wants me or she loves me, I end up being kicked in the face with her leaving! She leaves me every time, and the worst part is, I keep going back."

He fell to the floor, covering his face with his jacket sleeve.

Ludwig didn't know quite what to say. After both their parents had left them in the care of their grandfather, and he worked often, Gilbert had practically raised him, giving up most of his activities to help bring him up. That's a theory Ludwig had as to why he was so wild now, because he didn't have the chance to be when he was young.

He rose up, face set in stone. "I'm done being pushed over."

Unsure, Ludwig walked over to his brother. "Don't do anything rash. I let you in on this because you are valuable, albeit slightly obnoxious. I can revoke that at any point."

Laughing, Gilbert pushed back his hair and picked up a grape, squishing it between his fingers. "Goodbye."

His hands felt as cold as the marble walls. Everything about the house was large, with its grandeur appearance. It almost felt lonely, living in such a giant place almost alone.

The door rang at just that moment. Roderich smiled at the irony.

Unlatching the door, it creaked open slowly. Elizaveta stood at the doorstep, smiling.

"Hello," he said, letting her in.

She stepped inside. At least she had gotten home safely and changed after the party. Roderich hadn't been able to find her at around twelve.

"Where did you go to?"

She didn't answer, dropping off her stuff in a pile on the chair. Now dressed in a red skirt and white blouse, he wondered if the woman even slept in tight work clothes.

In her hand was a furled up newspaper. The page had been torn and tossed around, even though it was only this mornings' edition.

He raised his eyebrows, taking it from her.

Eyes darting around, he picked up on tiny pieces of information.

...deadly...

...attack...

...war...

...Japan...

...Nazi movement...

...thousands dead in China...

"What's the meaning of this?" he asked shakily, throwing the newspaper to the ground.

Elizaveta gave him a grave look. "It's the start of the ending of life as we know it."

"We're a great force that can't be stopped," laughed another voice.

Both Roderich and Eliza turned around, looking for the source of the voice.

Gilbert stepped out from underneath the shadow of a giant marble pillar. "You're surprised? I told you, I don't want anything to do with you."

"This is your business?" Eliza screamed, face livid.

"Exactly why it's called my business, not yours," he responded cheekily.

"Why are you starting a war at this level?" Roderich asked curiously. "It seems rather petty. There's nothing I see to fight about beyond Japan and China's long-standing feud."

His hands clenched into fists. "There is more than meets the eye."

"Really?" Roderich laughed. "It just looks like the two top bullies on the playground picking fights with the smaller ones."

"So you admit we're at the top," Gilbert smiled slyly.

"There's no denying facts. You guys have so much power over the world. Use it for good."

"This is reality. There's no such thing as good here."

Elizaveta screamed. "You absolute bastard!"

Roderich walked over to her and put an arm around her waist, rocking her back and forth in an attempt to calm Eliza down.

"People will die because of your petty fighting," Roderich warned.

"Maybe you will die," Gilbert shrugged. He pulled a shiny black revolver out of the holster on his belt, pointing it straight at Roderich's head.

He paled and slowly put his hands up, backing away from Elizaveta.

"Or she could die," Gilbert said, moving the gun to point at her.

Elizaveta laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"I'm not afraid of you or your gun."

"What about death?" He put his finger right against the trigger.

"I choose not to be afraid of death because we will all die. I can choose when that time is. I don't choose now."

She walked right up to Gilbert, each step echoing on the floor. "What do you need?"

"I need full cooperation from him," Gilbert said, pointing at Roderich.

"Why me?" Roderich sputtered.

"We need as many allies as we can get, and, although I don't want to say it, you're a powerful nation and a powerful man. Germany needs you."

"I don't quite agree with the actions you're taking," he uttered coldly, eyes darting to the newspaper still on the floor.

"He's not going anywhere," Elizaveta cut in furiously.

Gilbert turned to her. "Would you really care if he went away? You didn't seem to care too much when I disappeared."

"Of course I'd care, he's-"

"He's what, your lover? I was pretty sure you didn't feel such things as love, Elizaveta."

"I'll go," whispered Roderich.

"No you won't," Elizaveta said firmly.

He looked up at her, a pained expression on his face. "I know I'm fooling myself here, and I have been for several, oh, god knows how many years now. Still, after all this and knowing you won't return anything I feel, I'd protect you."

"I don't need your protection, you stupid boy," she said, voice breaking.

"You can't always do things on your own, you know."

"Yes I can," she muttered, closing her eyes.

He just tilted his head and shook it slowly.

"The way to a man's heart is through a broken woman's," Gilbert said, grinning. "Good to know. Come along, pretty boy."

Roderich turned around and locked eyes with Elizaveta one more time. She turned away from him.

Gilbert didn't know quite what to feel. Should he feel proud? Or lost? There was a sense of accomplishment in what he had done, recruiting more allies for his brother that would be of great use in the upcoming war. Still, there was something eating away at the back of his skull. A numbing sensation that tingled, spreading throughout his head, heart, and stomach. A feeling he could only describe as heartbreak.

The people you grow up with stay with you forever. Now here he was, leading one of them to their inevitable doom.

Roderich was older, and had always been smarter and more rational. Gilbert had often envied his level head and witty, snide remarks. He also hated him because he knew that Roderich would accomplish more than him.

The boy he had once envied was now on the same level as him.

And for a moment that should've been filled with pride, it was an empty feeling.