A Hollow
The Death of an Empire
1918
By the time Ludwig succumbs to the epidemic of flu, his strength is gone. It has been drained by the war, the rationing and the ever constant rumble of hunger that filled them and their people both. Gilbert spends days and days watching Ludwig waste away on the bed. He chokes on his sobs and he knows that his baby brother is slipping away even as he tries to keep a hold of him. But Gilbert's hands are weak and shaky and cannot hold his taller brother now.
So Ludwig stays on the bed, only outlined by ivory lines of skin and bone. His eyes are dead for the few moments every day that he wakes and hobbles to the bathroom and back before collapsing back onto the bed in a cacophony of hacking coughs that tear through his chest. Gilbert is without a kingdom but he is used to that now so he just sits on a stool next to his brother's and tries to draw strength from his new Free State whenever he is not called away by the need to fill their stomachs.
The hunger is the worst. Gilbert has hawked diamonds for the soggy potatoes and gold for the limp vegetables that go into the pot simmering sluggishly over the stove. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Ludwig peering at him from under his bangs. He's propped Ludwig up on a pile of extra blankets and pillows (paid for with silver candlesticks) and tucked him in tight against the cold that seeps in when anyone comes and goes. Gilbert tightens the belt on his greatcoat and continues to boil the soup.
"Gilbert."
"What?" His voice is flat with exhaustion.
"You're exhausted."
Gilbert has enough energy to raise one pale eyebrow at him.
"You're tired, go to bed."
"I will when I'm finished."
"Please, Gilbert."
"In a bit."
An hour later though, they have eaten their sludge and Gilbert is hauling water into the house. The pipes are frozen and rattling, and Gilbert has done his damnedest to thaw them, but its no use. Gilbert dumps the water into the overturned keg that serves as their tank and his vision flashes grey.
"Alright, that's it." Ludwig is standing over him a second later, testing his remaining brawn against gravity and grabs a hold of Gilbert's shoulders.
"Jesus Christ, Lud, go back to bed." Gilbert manages to gasp.
"Gilbert, you fainted."
"I don't faint." He insists, but his voice is soft and there is no real fight left in him.
"Well you did, so c'mon. Bed." Ludwig insists.
"I'm good here." Gilbert mumbles and closes his eyes.
When he wakes up again, he's pressed to Ludwig's side in the bed. Both of them are fully dressed, but Ludwig's warmth has seeped in overnight. He's woken to knocking at the door. He opens the door and the news is brought by a fit, clean American doughboy in a shiny helmet and boots. Gilbert see's the flash of pity in his face and quickly steps out onto the steps to hide the decrepit interior of their house. He minimizes his shame as much as he can because it takes a German to retain any pride even in defeat.
"Herr Beilschmidt?" The American stutters out in thick, nasally German.
"Ja?"
The doughboy hands him a thick envelope and turns from the porch. Gilbert slices open the seal and reads the date and "Hereby the German Empire is dissolved. The rest is blurry. Ludwig's empire... the empire they have fought so hard and so long for, the empire they have bled and killed and died for... its collapsed on itself. Their power is broken in a million pieces. For the first time since the war has ended, Gilbert cracks. He slides down the wall.
"West!" He holds the envelope and letter in shuddering hands. The bed creaks and shifts. Gilbert reels. So much work, so much blood, so much pain- is gone, gone, gone. Gone for nothing. Its all gone for what is going to be a futile attempt at democracy. His breath hitches and then he's on his feet. Violently surprised, he allows his younger brother to pull him up and pull him back to the bed. Gilbert refuses to make a sound, but allows himself to be deposited on the bed. He slumps against the mattress and doesn't wake again for days.
"West?" He asks when he wakes up. "What's going on?"
"The Empire... its gone."