July 1914, Vienna.

The bells of the grandfather clock rung out, celebrating another wretched hour's passing. Erzsébet groaned, peeling her head off the mahogany desk. She arrived late last night from Budapest, suitcases filled to the brim with letters and memos Tisza had churned out night after night and day after day. Where he had ordered – no matter how formal his tone, he could not hide his commands – her to deliver them to the emperor, to Tschirschky, to any minister or ambassador she could find with half a brain remaining.

She straightened up, wincing as her entire spine cracked back into place. His last, most onerous order had been to stay by the telephone. For what exactly she could only guess. Another summons? A new litany of letters? For her to overhear some juicy morsel and deliver it back to him? What did it matter? The machine would be yet another thing to chain her.

A mug was delicately set before her. "Here, Liebchen."

Erzsébet offered Roderich a knowing smile in return. "Tea makes a poor bribe." Nevertheless, she took a sip. Its rejuvenating effects were immediate. For the restless soul, there was nothing sweeter than caffeine.

"But it makes a fine kindness." He kissed her cheek, his eyes drifting to the phone. No calls for himself, either. "We wait any longer and the Russians will be halfway here," he muttered under his breath, retreating back to his own desk.

"Nobody mobilizes that quickly," the words drifted out of her mouth reflexively. "We haven't tried all our options yet, there's still time."

Roderich only scoffed in response. His silence was a welcome reprieve. To war or not to war, they had circled this drain for a long week. Neither was in the mood for ceaseless repetition.

Time stretched on before them. Erzsébet discarded the telephone for her own papers. With ink-stained hands she scribbled her own treatises, her own pleadings. It felt as futile as the prime minister's dealings but what was she to do? Her doorstep was not far from Schönnbrun or whatever rock Stürgkh crawled under at night. They found her people troublesome enough already; they would see exactly how burdensome a Hungarian could be.

So engrossed was she that she ignored the knock at the door. Ignored the cattish way Roderich tip-toed out. Ignored how alone she'd become until the bubble was burst by a favored intruder.

Gilbert's voice entered the room before the rest of him. "…getting ridiculous, Roderich. How much longer will this take? My hands are tied while the damn Rus…" he stopped before Erzsébet's desk. Noticing the peculiar way she stared, he offered her his most charming smile. "Erzsi, good. The way he made it sound yesterday, we weren't sure whether you'd be here or not."

Ludwig appeared from behind his father's shoulder. His radiant smile clashed with the dour uniform he wore. "Good morning, Erzsi. I hope everything was well back home."

"What are you doing here?" She asked with all the warmth of an iceberg.

"What do you think?" The smile that once seemed so inviting turned into an arrogant smirk. He crossed his arms across his chest. "You didn't know."

"No," Erzsébet said as she stared Roderich down, "I didn't."

The betrayal in her eyes was unsubtle. Roderich's blood bubbled in his veins. It was her intransigence, her cowardice, which brought them to this point. 'What does it matter?' he wanted to yell. 'No stomach for your own medicine?'

He awkwardly coughed into his hand. "Shall we begin?"

Gilbert kicked out one of the chairs before Erzsébet's desk and took it for himself. He snapped his fingers at Ludwig. "Something to drink. Lord knows your Onkel has something stashed away in here." He looked between Roderich and Erzsébet, eyes gleaming. "How go the preparations?"

"Our hands grow numb from sitting on them this long," Roderich spat bitterly, collapsing into the chair beside Gilbert. He nodded to Ludwig and sipped his brandy. "We have no need for guns when we can talk ourselves to death instead."

"What talk? Demands, that's all you're interested in." Erzsébet rolled her eyes up to the ceiling.

Roderich spoke through gritted teeth. "The heir to the throne was assassinated. Do you expect me to turn the other cheek? Only a saint could ask such a thing of me."

"Please, the Serbs did you and the emperor a favor. All you both did was complain about him and his poor wife." She smiled, though it came out more like a grimace, and rested her cheek against her hand. "It's like Maria Antonia all over again. Isn't it funny, Gilbert, how a martyr can only receive their love in death?"

"Mm. Though, you're forgetting something." He licked his lips before leaning in towards her and scarlet met emerald. "A martyr always needs a cause. Who are you to deny Franz his?"

Bile slipped its way up through her throat. She pushed it down with alcohol. "The man did not die so we could make the Balkans bleed."

"So, you would prefer he die for nothing?" Roderich's disgust was no longer able to be hidden. "Shall I march myself into Sarajevo then? Tell those filthy Serbs to have their way with me? Will that satisfy you?!"

Gilbert placed a hand on his knee. For a moment, their eyes met in some quiet exchange. He tried again. "No man or woman wants their murder to go unavenged." He reached a hand across the desk and a foot beneath. His face lit up and, for a second, she saw the man she loved again. "If it were you…I don't think I would be able to stop myself."

She allowed him to touch her, though she turned her head away. "It's not so simple. We war and the Romanians-"

"You're paranoid," Roderich groaned.

"-will leap to Russia's aide. Much less the rest of the Balkans. How many more enemies do we need? We'll find ourselves surrounded." Erzsébet bit her tongue. It did not seem prudent to add her own selfish concerns. That her own fiefdom would collapse, that the power she'd accumulated would disintegrate overnight from their gambles. She could hear their condemnations already and found she lacked the stomach for them.

Gilbert nodded his head as he listened. His expression was blank. "Is that all?"

She recoiled back into her chair. "Excuse me?"

"Is that all? You've talked of nothing else for a week now. Yes, we know. The Romanians, dear God, the Romanians will end us all. Do you check behind the curtains before bed in case a stray one is waiting to ambush you?" Gilbert's fist clenched and re-clenched in his lap. "Roderich and I are worried about the Russians and all you can do is hand-wring about some middling kingdom? Have you fucking lost it?"

Without realizing it, her jaw slackened open. From behind the two men, she spied Ludwig watching, his shock surely mirroring her own. She could not, would not, meet his gaze.

With shaky hand, Erzsébet tucked a strand of hair behind her hair. "You don't understand. It's not their military, but their people I fear. The Romanians declare war on us and, in an instant, riots break out in Transylvania. What use am I to you then? An army can't fight in two places, my troops cannot work miracles!"

Gilbert's back stiffened straight. He stared down his nose at her. "If they riot, put them down." The expression his face twisted into was a mockery of a smile. "I could show you what works on the Polaken."

"Gilbert!" Roderich hissed beneath his breath. "Don't ruin this for me!"

"Ah, Erzsébet? May I add something?" All heads snapped towards Ludwig, whose face was pale-white. He took a deep breath through his nostrils. He'd had the courage to throw himself into the storm. It would not leave him now! He exhaled and smiled, the naivety of a boy clashing with the face of a man. "It might help to know that we've already reached out to the Romanians. They've assured us many times over of their neutrality. I think we can believe them; you have nothing to fear."

"Thank you, Ludwig. That puts my mind at ease." It was a lie, of course, but the boy was only trying to help. It didn't seem fit to punish him. "As soon as you leave, I'll inform István…"

The long-forgotten phone cut her off, shaking with its incessant ringing. Four sets of eyes stared at it, gawked at it as if the technology had just now dropped into their laps. The spell was broken, and the two men reached for it. Erzsébet slapped their hands away. It was hers and hers alone.

"Jó napot kívánok," she said into the receiver.

"I've heard from Berchtold and Tschirschky," Tisza's voice floated in from the other end. She could imagine him in his office, sitting at his desk with head bowed and papers aplenty. It took no great leap of the mind when her own surroundings looked much the same. His harried sigh cut through the fog, bringing her back to their wretched reality. "We are damned, Erzsébet. They will have their war."

Her gaze drifted between the three assembled before her. Ludwig, sweet Ludwig, betraying all his youth with his eagerness. The battles ahead were still a game, still the toy soldiers he would assemble in the living room with his father. Rehashing battles history had already decided, battles he never quite understood. On the young man's left was Roderich, leg bouncing impatiently, and lips scrunched up in that sour expression he favored. He'd surely convinced himself that his wife was hogging up the line, that someone more important was calling for him. That this was another way she was ruining his well-laid plans.

And, finally, Gilbert. He smiled at her. He even had the nerve to wink.

"They will. Let us hope they know what to do with it." With nothing more to say, they hung up.

"Who was that?" Gilbert purred. She wanted to kill him.

"A friend from home. Her husband is sick. She's worried she'll catch it." The whole time she spoke, Erzsébet didn't look away from him.

He scoffed. "She will. Whatever is wrong with him, will be what's wrong with her. That's how it always goes."

"You speak like you know."

"Believe me, I know."

Roderich smacked his hand down on the desk. He did not care for whatever thinly veiled argument they were having, did not care to pick it apart. This was no time for lovers' quarrels. "We need an answer."

"Do what you must," she stared down at her hands. She preferred the sight of her skirts to these smug fools.

Roderich's lips stretched out in a smile. It didn't seem quite natural, as if in such a short time those muscles had already begun to atrophy. "Excellent," he sighed. He turned in his seat so that his whole body was facing Gilbert. "I suppose now you will press me about the Aktion? Those discussions continue to move along well – and even better now that we are all on the same page. All parties agree that…"

Erzsébet could stomach no more of this. She excused herself from her desk and their dizzying glee. At the window, there was peace. Gazing out across the grounds of the garden and found a modicum of peace. The wisterias would be there tomorrow. The ducks would continue to splash in their little pond. The forest she escaped to would not be razed. Despite war's carnage, she could believe that most of the world would go unchanged. Another inconsequential decision made by people like her in rooms such as these.

She hadn't realized how long she'd been standing there till Ludwig appeared beside her, smiling like a cherub. "I think we're about to leave."

"For Berlin?" The stupidity of her question shook her out of her stupor. No, of course not. There were ambassadors and ministers and all sorts of important people that would need to be informed of the news. Roderich would not be far off behind them, whipping his own government into shape.

Lead weighed down upon her heart. It appeared the instant she looked at Ludwig, really looked at him. A soldier's uniform ill-suited him. What good were soft hands in war? Hands that still trembled when aiming at deer. How could they take aim at man and bid another life to end? A boy who had only slept on plush beds and warm homes would now sleep in the cold on mud and hay. Never quite full or satisfied till a sheet of paper permitted him home again.

"Come here, kicsim." She rocked up onto the balls of her feet. Some of his hair had fallen loose from its pomade prison. With spit and love, she forced it down again.

He laughed at her fussing. He made good natured efforts to duck away from her reach, but always conveniently failed to get away. "Are you always going to call me that? I'm not so little anymore."

"Yes, always. Because you'll always be my dear kicsim." For good measure, she poked him on the nose and won herself an eyeroll. The medals on his chest were disheveled. She tsked and got to work straightening. "All these awards and not a single battle fought. You'll be the envy of your officers."

The tips of his ears grew red. "By the end, I'll have earned some. We'll have the same honor."

The smile she gave him didn't quite reach her eyes. "The greatest honor for most is to come home intact. That's better than any Iron Cross."

"Lutz, let's go! Still a few hands we've got to shake, and I'd like to be back here before dinner." Gilbert's hand hovered over the doorknob. He nodded his head in the direction of the door, a crooked smile on his face. "No need for the long goodbyes yet."

"Coming, sorry!" Ludwig sat his cap back on his head and gave his mother a toothy grin and a kiss on the cheek. "We'll be home soon!"

"You will," she whispered. But she knew it was too late. He was gone already, gone to a front yet to be defined. Holding a gun that she had given him.

"Erzsébet? Erzsébet? Erzsi, are you all right?" Roderich gently held her shoulders. The sleeve of his coat grazed her cheek. He hadn't been wearing that before, had he?

"Fine, just fine." She mustered up a smile, but it was too weak to be reassuring. She sighed, dropping the ruse and shook her head. Her mind began to work at rapid speed, itemizing the preparations she would need to make. She would need to return home. Today was a wash, these were tomorrow's problems. "I think I'm going to lie down."

"Of course." Roderich watched her begin to leave. It felt as if they'd somehow gone through the looking glass. Her demeanor troubled him, but what could he do to alleviate it? There was no changing their course now, even if he wanted to. "This will be another quick one, over as soon as it began. Don't despair." He swallowed. "Please."

Erzsébet turned her head back, mouth agape as if to speak. The oaken door slammed shut behind her. To men such as these, there was nothing left to say.