Finally Chapter 3! I apologize for taking so long on this one.
It was unbelievably difficult to write!
Enjoy~!
Once again, I do not own Hetalia.
-X-
Elizaveta snuck back into the mansion through the servant's door in the kitchen. The only way to access it was through the garden shed, and the door was hidden behind one of the many shelves. It led lead to a dark, but mercifully short, passageway that entered the house and ended in the pantry.
Feliciano still in her arms, Elizaveta looked around the dim room, crept into the hallway, and headed towards servants' wing of the mansion.
She tucked Feliciano into bed. When she turned to leave, she heard him whisper, "Betta, I'm afraid." He sniffled and let out a small cry.
Heartbroken, she went back to him, shushing him softly. "Don't be afraid, kicsi, I'm here." He looked up at her, eyes large and trusting.
She began to sing:
Le szált a csendes ég
Alszik a város
Aludgy már te is fiam
Álmodma tündér szép országra álmod
Álmodját szép gyermekem
Álmodba álmogyál tündér mesékröl
Halgas a szivem szavát
Szeres úgy engem mint
Ahogy én tégem
Kis fiam jó écakát.
The quiet sky has set;
the city is sleeping.
Go to sleep also my son,
in your sleep may you dream fairytale stories.
Dream away my beautiful child.
In your dream may you dream fairy tale stories,
Listen to the song of my heart
Love me with all your heart
As I love you dear,
My little boy I wish you good night.
Feliciano had tried his best, but he succumbed to sleep before she finished. Elizaveta smiled tenderly, and brushed Feliciano's unruly bangs out of his face. She leaned in and kissed his forehead gently.
"Jó éjszakát, kicsi," Elizaveta whispered. She stood up, and walked out, shutting the door inaudibly behind her.
-X-
Roderich was going back down to his rooms after a long conversation with Antonio, when he heard a sweet, delicate voice, coming from the lower floor.
He followed the sound to the source: the servants' quarters. The voice was distinctly female, and it was being sung in a language that was definitely not German. His subconscious already knew to whom the voice belonged, but Roderich was itching to know for certain.
He continued to follow his ears, and it lead him to little Feliciano's room. Inside, was Elizaveta, her shapely form haloed by the moonlight streaming in through the tiny window, singing softly in her rich, smooth accent. The effect of it all was quite ethereal, and it took Roderich's breathe away.
If he were to write a song for this moment, about the way the pearly light caressed her cheeks and hugged every contour of her body…He imagined a haunting melody, one that would cause his heart to lurch with the feeling behind the notes, and other places, besides.
Staring again, Roderich felt irrationally jealous. Not of Feliciano, no. But of the light—the otherworldly light—that was allowed to be so close, so intimate with her, when he himself was hopelessly forbidden.
The song was over. He heard her say goodnight to Feliciano, and Roderich snuck into the shadows to avoid being discovered.
-X-
Elizaveta went to her own room, now, exhausted. She turned the handle to her door easily (it was not allowed to be locked) and her attention was immediately drawn to a splash of crimson on her white bed sheets.
Shutting the door, Elizaveta walked over to the bed to further inspect the object.
It was a flower; that much, at least, was certain. But it was rotten. Vile and fetid, it carried the ghastly aroma of raw meat that had been sitting out in the sun. Yet, there was a sort of unbearable, cloying sweetness that clung to it, smothering the blossom. The waxy petals were swollen and oozed a sticky, sap-like fluid that coated Elizaveta's trembling fingers.
Shock registered in her mind as Elizaveta recognized the bloom, and the warning it signified—it was a tulip.
Terrified, Elizaveta threw the sickening flower into her fireplace, stroking the dying embers until the whole hearth was ablaze. She choked on the putrid odor of the burning plant. Stopping only to scrub the sap off of her fingers in her basin, fighting the urge to vomit, Elizaveta sprinted out of her chamber, wild-eyed with fear.
Elizaveta burst out of the back door—the one that lead to the orange grove. She gulped in massive lungfuls of fresh air, cringing at the sight of the hanging linins. Gagging once more, Elizaveta clutched at the stitch in her side, clinging to the doorframe for support. She relieved her heaving stomach in the scrubs by the house, hoping their voluptuous leaves would hide her disgrace. Elizaveta straightened slowly, wiping her mouth. She spat, trying to remove the sour taste of bile from her mouth, the back of her mind relishing in the small moment of unlady-like behavior.
Elizaveta turned back inside to get away from the too-familiar scene replaying in her mind. She wandered the deserted corridors aimlessly, trying to numb her mind of everything, willing it to clear completely, wiping the slate clean.
She should have told Roderich; this Elizaveta knew. Something inside her, though, forbade it. Elizaveta supposed it was her pride vehemently rejecting the proposal of a plea for help in any form.
Focusing finally, Elizaveta realized she was standing in the doorway of Roderich's room—the piano room, that is. Curious that her body had led her here, she tiptoed inside. She passed the large intricate grandfather clock on her right, paying it little mind.
There, in the center of the room, demanding all attention was the grand piano. She started toward it, her right hand raised slightly as if to touch the glossy surface. The silver light streaming in through the gigantic window made the burgundy wood seem alabaster, making the instrument even more beautiful. And Elizaveta needed a little beauty tonight.
Tears pricked at Elizaveta's eyes, hot and insidious. Fear. She blinked rapidly, forcing her lapse in control back into submission.
"Miss Hedervary?" The hesitant, disbelieving whisper shattered the silence.
Elizaveta gasped and whirled toward the sound. Roderich sat, there on the plush window seat, glassed perched low on his nose, with a book propped on his knees.
Scrambling for something, anything to say, Elizaveta stammered, "I-I…Ah, Master Edelstein, I…W-what I mean is—" She stopped when Roderich lifted one of his long hands.
"It's quite alright, Miss Hedervary," Roderich spoke softly before Elizaveta could embarrass herself further. "Like you, I couldn't sleep."
Elizaveta nodded; astounded he hadn't rebuked her at all.
"Your days have indeed been trying," Roderich continued. "Though, today, it seems, was more so than days prior." His tone was polite, controlled. But it wasn't a question; it was an observation.
Elizaveta paled, praying fervently Roderich wouldn't notice due to the silver moonlight that whitewashed the entire room.
Thinking quickly, Elizaveta said, "Feliciano fell today when we were hanging laundry. He was quite shaken." She ended lamely and without conviction, sure now, that he would know something else was amiss.
"Hmm…" Roderich looked at her now, really looked. His violet eyes bored into hers, searching for the source of the first lie she ever uttered to him. Their gazed remained locked for some time, until the ticks of the grandfather clock seemed to slow, suspending them in time.
Roderich made a soft, subtle movement as if to stand up when a high-pitched bawl echoed through the halls.
Both Roderich and Elizaveta started, shocked out of their reverie. Elizaveta bolted from the room, already knowing to whom the pitiful cry belonged.
"Elizaveta!" Came a shout behind her, but she ran until she reached Feliciano's room, breathless from the run and her terror.
The boy was sobbing. He shook with every tremor of fear and helplessness that racked through his tiny frame.
"B-Betta…" He blubbered, holding his chubby arms out to her.
Elizaveta went to Feliciano and perched on his bed as she cradled him against her breast. She quieted the weeping child, murmuring hushed condolences. Elizaveta waited until the sobs ceased, knowing he would tell her in good time. Sometime during, Roderich had reached Feliciano's little room and he watched from the doorway, unsure of where he belonged.
"I—" Feliciano started, but he was interrupted by a hiccup. "I had a bad dream!" He bawled.
"Shh, kicsi," Elizaveta whispered. "Dreams do not follow you when you wake."
"But—" Another hiccup. "The man, Betta!" Elizaveta's body went rigid, and it did not go unnoticed by Roderich. "The man will come back!" Feliciano started to cry again.
Unable to think of a dismissive excuse for Roderich, Elizaveta kept her eyes locked on a spot on the wall above Feliciano's head.
"What man?" His voice was low, and dangerous. Roderich would not allow any more lies.
Feliciano turned to Roderich now, eyes watery, but clear, knowing his Betta didn't want him to tell Roderich. But he did anyway.
"He didn't say his name, but was wearing a mask!" Feliciano told Roderich, averting Elizaveta's incredulous gaze.
Roderich whirled on Elizaveta. "Is this true?" He demanded harshly.
She could only nod, for the wound from Feliciano's betrayal was still fresh.
Enraged, Roderich cursed, surprising Elizaveta. Then again, she thought wryly, there were many surprises tonight.
"Get up," Roderich ordered Elizaveta, the master once more. "The time for pretense has passed. Sadiq shall have his war."
-X-
So yeah, in case you hadn't already realized, the masked man is Sadiq (Turkey).
If you see any translational errors, please, PLEASE correct me. I want to get it right.
Can anyone guess the significance of the tulip~?
(It's actually not nearly as ambiguous as I wanted it to be…)
So, as always, reviews are loved.
~Kaiya
**kicsi: Little one (Hungarian)
**Jó éjszakát: Good Night (Hungarian)