I now proudly present Chapter 2~!
I am writing this as quickly as possible—within reason, of course.
Huge thanks and hugs go to angelwings263 and bbissocute for their wonderful reviews!
Once again, I do not own Hetalia.
-X-
Roderich never slept in past five thirty.
Every morning he got up, splashed cold water on his face, straightened his cravat, and went to the piano room.
This morning was no exception.
He usually had time to complete one piece before he was interrupted by Elizaveta for his morning tea.
Right on schedule, there was a light rap on the door.
"Enter," Roderich responded.
Elizaveta never said a word, for fear she may spark her master's ire too early. She silently laid out the tea tray on the delicate side table, the only noise in the grand room the soft clinking of china. She poured the tea, adding a splash of cream and two lumps of sugar, already knowing how her master took his tea. For a tyrant, he had quite a sweet tooth.
"Thank you, Miss Hedervary."
Elizaveta curtsied and exited the room.
Roderich took a sip of his tea: perfect, as always, and sighed lightly. He took another sip and gazed out the enormous window that stretched from the pillow-covered window seat to the ceiling. He looked out on the back lawn where there was a lush, grassy hill that was home to the orange tree grove.
There was a light breeze; Roderich noticed from the way the leaves twinkled and flirted with one another. His precious edelweiss brushes were dancing, too, in the small garden right by the mansion, but in a more reserved, stoic manner.
He saw Elizaveta outside with a basket of freshly washed linens to hang outside. Feliciano was skipping alongside her merrily, ecstatic to be anywhere with her. He stopped to pick one of the many brightly colored wildflowers that never left Roderich's yard, and presented the bright pink blossom to her proudly.
She accepted it with a cheery curtsy, not unlike the one she gave to Roderich moments ago, and a smile, the only difference, and tucked it behind her ear. Somehow she managed to perform the act gracefully, despite the large basket full of wet sheets leaning on her left hip.
The two reached the lines and Elizaveta set down the basket. When she stood back up, the wind caught her hair and blew it back behind her until it resembled a banner; the bluster tried to tug the blossom free, and when Elizaveta held it in place, it went for her skirts, making them wave. Feliciano did not hold his own skirts down, however, and was nearly knocked over by the strength of the wind in his petticoats.
Roderich could tell from the way Elizaveta's shoulders were shaking that she was laughing. Still smiling, she bent down and straightened Feliciano's dress. Elizaveta brushed her hand through his messy brown hair and stood up, smoothing her own skirt.
Roderich continued to watch them. They developed a system: Feliciano would grab a fistful of something in the basket, Elizaveta would let him work until he got frustrated, then she would pluck out the sheet and clip it to the line.
The gentle process continued until there was a sea of linens swelling in the wind, making the tide come in and out. Feliciano hopped in between the sheets, playing hide and seek with the butterflies and an indulgent Elizaveta.
The merriment ceased when Feliciano fell, tripped, Roderich presumed, but Elizaveta reacted quickly. She artfully flung the last sheet over the line, rushed to the distressed Italian, and examined his knee expertly. She then scooped him up, and held him close. One arm was wrapped underneath Feliciano and the other held his head to her shoulder as she swayed back and forth to the rhythm of the breeze.
Roderich watched the scene play out, a heavy emotion weighing him down.
He set his tea aside, unfinished. It was cold.
Roderich stood up stiffly and marched out of the room, bumping into the side table, not bothering to pick up the teapot that was pouring tea onto the floor in a waterfall.
-X-
Elizaveta rocked Feliciano until his sniffles subsided. She shut her eyes and let the scent of orange blossoms and edelweiss wash over her. Despite how much she despised being stuck in one place, Elizaveta had to admit it was beautiful here. She still longed for her home in Hungary, of course, but there was a peacefulness and serenity she found here amongst the aroma of edelweiss that evaded her in her own country.
Even with her eyes shut, Elizaveta sensed when there was something amiss on the quiet hill. A new odor was carried by the wind—a sort of heavy musk, almost like incense—mixing more with the oranges than the edelweiss. Elizaveta's old huntress instincts kicked in; she angled her back toward the orange grove, shielding Feliciano. Though she was loathe to run away from a conflict to break the monotony, Elizaveta would never put her beloved Feliciano in danger—not the real kind anyway. And this was definitely real.
Elizaveta would have preferred it if Feliciano had stayed asleep through the inevitable confrontation, but, alas, he was never one for short naps; he had too much energy.
"Nngh…" Feliciano groaned tiredly.
"Feliciano? Feliciano, I need you to stay quiet, dear," Elizaveta whispered in his ear.
Alert now to the tension in Elizaveta's voice, even though Elizaveta had tried to cover it, Feliciano whispered back, "Why, Betta?"
Elizaveta's heart wrenched at the use of his nickname for her, the one he used when he was tired, afraid, or trying to weasel sweets and pasta and the held him tighter.
"There is someone here," she told him. "And I don't know if he is a friend."
Feliciano's tiny fists gripped her apron, getting lost in the starched fabric. She took this as an acknowledgement and swore to drive away this thing that caused her Feliciano any fright.
She pivoted sharply toward the orange trees, immediately noticing the large silhouette of a man coming out of the trees.
"My, my, my, young Roderich does enjoy his luxuries." His voice was deep and heavily accented from a language Elizaveta didn't recognize. He wore a mask that covered half his face that left only the dark of his eyes for the world to see. He was garbed in long robes of scarlet and a large hat, not caring to be invisible. He walked easily, with a slight lilt to his gait, with all the confidence in the world. It was the walk of someone who knew no opposition.
"Luxuries it seems," the imposing man continued, "he does not see fit to share." He looked directly at Elizaveta when he said this.
Feliciano whimpered and Elizaveta finally found her voice.
"Mr. Edelstein is engaged at the moment," she lied, knowing instinctively Roderich would never have any dealings with this man. "But if you'd like, I can deliver a message when he is no longer occupied." Elizaveta took a small moment to pride herself in the assuredness of her voice.
"You know something, my dear?" He asked lightly, as if they were discussing the weather. "I don't think you're being entirely truthful."
Elizaveta stiffened, no longer sure of herself and her ability to protect Feliciano.
The dark man chuckled. "But I will forgive you, just this once."
Silence hung in the air like the sheets, disturbed only by the wind.
"It seems your audience disbanded," the foreigner commented, blasé. "Pity, he seemed to thoroughly enjoy the view from the piano room."
At this, Elizaveta spun around sharply, looking now toward the mansion, hoping for any sign of life that could help her. But Roderich's music room was empty.
Elizaveta's heart was racing; she had to think quickly. "He had a meeting this morning," she lied again, only this time her voice did shake.
Another chuckle—right behind her.
Elizaveta inhaled sharply, terrified. His husky breath wafted past her ear and into her mouth; it tasted overbearingly sweet.
He was enormous and towered over her; Elizaveta had never felt so small. His presence loomed over her like a storm cloud: menacing and powerful.
The man reached one hand up, as if to caress her cheek. Elizaveta couldn't move as paralyzed as she was by fear.
Slap. He withdrew his hand, surprised that the small one had hit him. To the surprise of all, little Feliciano had hit the frightening man. Feliciano glared up at him as best as he could—despite his lower lip quivering.
Now the man laughed aloud. "It seems I have underestimated you two," He said as he turned around, back toward the orange trees. Elizaveta also turned, not willing to let her eyes leave him again.
"Until next time." He didn't turn his head to look at them. He only raised his land lazily, not bothering to see if the two of them were still standing there.
Elizaveta only watched him long enough to see him disappear into the trees. Then she ran.
-X-
I hope I'm not irritating anyone with my unceremonious endings…They just happen that way. :P
Well, I have some info for you:
-"Betta" was Feliciano's nickname for Elizaveta I chose from the Italian version of Elizabeth, "Elisabetta".
-This story is mostly AU, but it is loosely set in the early 1600's when Turkey started getting active in Europe—before the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
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There even may be a cookie in it for you~
~Kaiya