Dusk was rapidly approaching as the car pulled up the driveway of the Beilschmidt estate. Feliciano stared out the window as the house loomed above them, a weathered sentinel. Once, it must have been a lovely country home, but now its façade was marred with stains of rust and mold. Tendrils of ivy crept along the walls and encroached on the darkened, dirty first floor windows. Weeds grew knee-high around the narrow path leading to the porch steps. In the fading gray light, it almost looked haunted.

"Watch your step, dear," Elizabeta cautioned as the two of them made their way to the front door. Feliciano clutched the handle of his luggage case nervously as Elizabeta took the heavy brass knocker—shaped like an eagle with spread wings—and pounded it against the door twice. In contrast to the silence that emanated from inside the house, the world outside was teeming with life and its mosaic of sounds. Crickets chirped and ravens jabbered as they roosted in nearby trees. If he strained, he could hear the low hoot of an owl in the distance.

After what felt like forever, the sound of heavy, irregular footsteps reached his ears from inside the house. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. The owner of the footsteps walked with a noticeable limp. The door swung open to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered man with blonde hair and a sour expression on his face. Just as the neglected house had once been lovely, thought Feliciano, Mr. Beilschmidt must have once been very handsome. He had strong jaw and attractive features, but his pale skin was waxy, as if he had too much alcohol and not enough sunlight over the years. There were scars, too, that cut into the left side of his face near his eyebrow and across the corner of his mouth. His clothes were wrinkled, as if he'd slept in them.

"This is my brother-in-law, Ludwig Beilschmidt," Elizabeta was making their introductions, "Ludwig, this is the boy Roderich spoke of. His name is Feliciano Vargas."

Feliciano raised his gaze to the older man's face. Ludwig stared down at him, his expression unreadable. Feliciano couldn't help but notice the shade of his eyes—a pristine, icy blue—as they pierced coldly through him. He flinched and looked away.

"Come in," Ludwig spoke gruffly, and led his guests inside.

The interior of the house was dark and the air was stale. There were few furnishings and no adornments—no photographs, no paintings, not even a rug between their dirty shoes and the creaking hardwood floor. Ludwig led them to the end of a long hall, limping badly even with the help of his cane, and ushered them into a small study. It was cluttered, furnished with an aged sofa and a huge mahogany desk that was accompanied by an equally huge wingback chair. On one side of the room was a fireplace that looked like it hadn't been used in ages. On the other side was a window, but velvet curtains had been drawn across, blocking out any outside light.

Ludwig limped to the chair and eased himself into in as if were in pain, though his face remained expressionless. "Sit." He motioned for Elizabeta to seat herself on the sofa. When Feliciano moved to follow, he stopped him with a motion of his hand. "Not you. You get out, wait in the hall." He pointed at the door.

"Ludwig! Don't be so rude!" Elizabeta admonished, standing up and looking like she was ready for another fight. But Feliciano figured it would be better if he just followed directions. Before the relatives could say anything more, he slipped back out into the hall and closed the door behind him. He could hear their voices coming through the walls, but he couldn't make out their exact words. They sounded like they were arguing. They were probably discussing him, he realized with a sigh. Was he going to be sent back to Austria immediately? Did Ludwig find him so repulsive that he wasn't even going to give him a chance? Elizabeta seemed to like him and seemed like she would put up a fight for him, but he didn't think Ludwig was the type of person who could ever be forced into doing something he didn't want to do. Not that Feliciano could blame anyone for not wanting a useless mute in their house.

Suddenly, the study door banged open behind him and Elizabeta stormed out, her wavy brown hair flying loose over her shoulder. Seeing the look on her face, Feliciano was sure he was going to be sent back home this instant, but instead she pressed a piece of paper into his hand and a kiss to his forehead. "Take care of yourself, Feliciano. I've given you my address so you can write to me any time. That jerk Ludwig is too stubborn to even install phone lines in this dump...Well, not that you could use a phone, could you?" She gave him an apologetic little smile.

Feliciano nodded, returning the smile as bravely as he could. She patted his cheek briefly and then shouted something insulting at Ludwig before stomping out of the house. A few moments later, Feliciano heard the sound of the car engine roaring to life, and then silence followed. He stood alone in the drafty old hallway, clutching a piece of paper, and trying not to cry. He didn't even notice that Ludwig had exited the study until the large man was right behind him, glaring down at him again with those cold blue eyes.

"The room we were just in is my private study," Ludwig said brusquely, "You're never, never, to go inside without my permission, you understand me?"

Feliciano nodded vigorously in response and this seemed to satisfy the older man for now. "Follow me. I'll show you some of the other rooms. It will be a pain if you aren't able to find things when I need you to."

Ludwig walked slowly, his limp hampering his movements much more than before. He must have been trying not to look weak in front of Elizabeta, but now there was no need for pretense. They went back down the hall, passing several closed doors. Feliciano wondered what was behind them, but Ludwig didn't explain, so he could only assume they were rooms that he wasn't allowed into.

"This is the dining room," Ludwig stopped in front of a large room that was furnished with nothing but a long wooden table and a few chairs that didn't match. A wrought-iron chandelier hung from the ceiling. "I don't usually eat in here, but you can use it if you want. I like to take my meals in my study, alone."

At the back of the house, with a door that lead outside, was the kitchen. Adjacent to it, stairs lead down to a cellar where food and wine could be stored, although at the moment there was "nothing really down there but rats," Ludwig admitted. Feliciano made a mental note to clear out the cellar as best he could and start stocking it with tasty ingredients right away. He wondered what kind of food Ludwig liked best? It must be hard to live without a proper cook in the house, he thought, and was determined not to let that state of affairs continue. Feliciano wasn't a real chef, but Francis, Mr. Edelstein's cook, had praised him as a natural talent. Besides, good food warmed the heart, or so Feliciano had always believed.

At the bottom of a large staircase, Ludwig paused. Feliciano noticed the sweat on his forehead and the way he was breathing hard through his nose. If just walking the length of the house was this hard on him, it didn't seem like he could make it up the stairs.

"Hold this," Ludwig shoved his cane at Feliciano, who nearly fumbled it in surprise, and then began to drag himself up the stairs with painful slowness, using the banister to support his weight.

Stop, you'll hurt yourself! Feliciano wanted to shout. Instead, he quickly tucked himself under Ludwig's armpit, wrapping the man's well-muscled arm around his own thin shoulders. He slipped a free arm around Ludwig's back, supporting him.

"I don't need any assistance," Ludwig snapped, but he seemed to accept the help nonetheless. Together, they made slow progress. By the time they reached the second floor, Feliciano was sweating too. The German was heavy!

"This first bedroom is mine," Ludwig said, pointing at the first door at the top of the stairs, "But I always just sleep downstairs, in the study."

They moved to the adjacent room. The German man pushed open the door and flicked on the lights, but didn't step inside. "This is where the past maids have slept. There are servants' quarters on the third floor, but no one has lived there for years. Anyway, I see no reason to keep you locked in some glorified broom closet if there are bedrooms free."

Feliciano's jaw dropped when he saw his new room. It was huge! There was no way a servant was supposed to sleep in a room like this, furnished with an enormous four-poster bed that could have slept a whole family of Italians. There was even a fireplace!

Oblivious to his servant's shock, Ludwig bade him a terse goodnight and abruptly turned toward the stairs again. Without prompting, Feliciano slipped back under his arm, acting as an extra support.

"Damn you, I said I don't need help!"

The German's harsh tone startled Feliciano, but he didn't loosen his grip. He could feel the way Ludwig was leaning into him and knew that despite his stubborn pride, he needed the help. It made Feliciano feel good in a way, to be useful when he was truly needed. He enjoyed working in Mr. Edelstein's house, but he'd always felt more like a charity case there rather than an actual employee. He was paid a nominal wage but essentially had worked for room and board. He'd kept busy with odd jobs, cleaning, dusting, filling in when the assistant cook was sick… but he never really felt needed. He never felt like he did right now.

At the bottom of the stairs, Ludwig reclaimed his cane and pushed Feliciano away. "I can make it back myself."

Feliciano watched as he struggled back toward his study. Ludwig was kind of mean-looking and didn't smile or laugh, but he didn't seem like a bad person. He seemed sad though, and angry too. The Italian wondered if he would ever tell him about his family or how he got that limp and those scars. Somehow, he doubted it.

The house groaned and settled, making creepy noises that made Feliciano's skin crawl. Left alone, he suddenly felt dwarfed by the giant, creaky house. Hastily, he retrieved the luggage that he had left in the foyer and ran up the darkened stairs as fast as if something was chasing him. He burst into his bedroom where the light was already on and closed the slammed the door shut, breathing hard. How did Ludwig live all alone like this? Wasn't he scared? Feliciano hugged his arms around his middle as he looked nervously around at his new bedroom. At first, he'd been awed by the sheer size of it, but now it all seemed too big. It wasn't cozy like the room he shared back in Mr. Edelstein's house. All of the furniture was huge. He felt like Jack from the fairy tale, a puny human intruding on the Giant's house at the top of the beanstalk.

Hesitantly, he inspected the bed, then went to explore the wardrobe. It was an ancient thing and towered over him as he opened it, looking to see what was inside. There were extra pillow, blankets, towels… He explored farther, finding a few old candles and a yellowed, dusty copy of the Holy Bible. There were other odds and ends in there too, hidden away in the back of it: an old necktie, a few cheap hairpins, a grammar book, chalk, bits of string. There was also one object that especially caught Feliciano's eye. It was a linen nightgown, with a bit of lace at the collar and cuffs. It was clearly a woman's garment, but he decided to try it on anyway, just for fun. Ignoring the cold, he shimmied out of his soiled traveling clothes and folded them neatly, placing them aside. The nightgown only reached mid-thigh on him, as he was taller than the original owner, but he like the way the material felt against his bare skin.

Feliciano didn't unpack that night. He took all the extra blankets he could find and made a cocoon for himself in the center of the bed. Staring up into the darkness, listening to the creaking and groaning of the house, it was hard to fall asleep. His mind wandered… What was Mr. Edelstein doing right now? Was he taking his brandy in the library before bed? Francis was probably taking Michelle out on a date. He could imagine the two of them, cheeks red from wine, walking the grounds at night and looking at the stars.

Homesickness washed over Feliciano as he lay alone in bed. He missed Mr. Edelstein, even though he had a funny voice that sounded like he was talking through a straw all the time. He missed Tino, the Finnish servant who always let Feliciano climb into his bed and snuggle against him when he was feeling sad. He missed Francis's silly laugh that went like On hon hon and he missed Sister Isabelle and Father Rudolph and most deeply of all… he missed Lovino, his big brother whose face he couldn't even remember anymore.

Feliciano fell asleep that night with tears staining his cheeks.

~tbc~

Thanks for reading!