In The Three-Ninth Kingdom

Authors Notes: Sorry for such a long time between updates but my muse has been unable to get online and then I recently started a new job which cuts down greatly on my free time for writing. So until I get settled with that chapters will be a little slow and sporadic. Please be try to be patient with me! Enjoy this chapter and dont forget to rate and review please!

Chapter 4

-Then-

Germany stared at the paper in front of him. It was blank. He could think of nothing to say, not a single word to write. All he could see when he stared at the paper in front of him was Gilbert’s haunting stare as he was being drug away by Ivan. It made him want to weep all over again.

The wall stood now, in the spot where his brother had been shot. He couldn’t even see the place he had lost him. All he could see was the cold steel and concrete, the end of everything as he knew it.

There were more pressing things now than writing a simple letter to his brother, he knew it. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. As soon as he started on his paperwork he felt the guilt smothering him, dragging him down into the abyss. How could he focus on something else when he had not even written one comforting word to his brother?

And yet as soon as he brought out the stationary and the pen was in his hand, he could write nothing. There were no words. Just Gilbert’s frightened desperate red eyes staring up at him from the blank paper.

‘I’m sorry too West…’

His words haunted him. What did the other mean by that? What did Gilbert have to be sorry for? It wasn’t his fault this had happened, he was already weakened by the time the war came, by the time Ludwig was ordered to give him up. So what could his brother possibly be sorry for?

He was the one who was sorry. He was the one who had lost. He wasn’t strong enough, he wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t-

“You look tired,” The soft voice interrupted his thoughts and the German glanced up to see Feliciano standing there in front of his desk.

The Italian certainly didn’t have to be there with him, but he was. He had spent every day in the house since Gilbert left. Ludwig never said so, but he was thankful. It was almost like old times and sometimes…sometimes he could pretend it never happened. He could forget about how everything had come grinding to an end and now he stood there, empty handed with nothing to give. Ludwig had nothing for the Italian anymore, and yet here he was anyway. He didn’t understand it, but he was grateful all the same.

“I feel tired,” The blonde replied slowly after a moment, his eyes searching the man child in front of him.

“What were you doing? Your paper is empty,” Italy pointed out, ever so helpful. Once he might have yelled at the other’s pointless comment but today, he couldn’t.

“I was writing a letter to Gilbert,” He found the words hard to force out. “But I don’t know what to write.”

Their eyes met, Ludwig’d desperate stare and Feliciano’s calm yet warm look in return. There was no one who understood him like Italy. He played the fool, but deep down, he was smart. He was capable and he knew everything that Ludwig could never get the nerve to get out himself.

“When I use to write letters to Romano as a child, I would tell him all the things I did that day. And then I would tell him home much I missed him and how much I couldn’t wait to see him.”

“It seems hurtful.”

“Why?” Italy moved across the floor behind the desk until he could touch the others shoulder. He was wearing the apron he always wore when he was making a mess in the kitchen. The German just knew when he went in there it would be a horrifying mess to his neat freak tendencies.

“His life has to be horrible there…How can I tell him how things are here without feeling guilty that he can do nothing. Ivan…is a monster.”

“Then you can at least write him and tell him how much you miss him, how much you care for him.” Feliciano told him firmly, his fingers squeezing the other man’s broad shoulders. “But later, I made some really delicious pasta for dinner.”

“Alright…but tomorrow night no pasta…this is the fourth night in a row Italy,” Ludwig loathed to complain, but at some point, he just had to put his foot down or the other would have him eating pasta morning noon and night. It wasn’t horrible but it did get tiresome to his German tastes eventually.

“Of course, tomorrow I make potatoes and wurst,”

Now that was more like it, the German thought as he pushed back his chair, ignoring the way Feliciano hovered around him, straightening and dusting off his uniform jacket for him, even though it was hardly wrinkled and not dirty at all.
The Italian really meant well, despite the way at first Ludwig had shied away from his touch. But Italy insisted he always had helped Austria straighten his clothes and Roma as well. By now it was almost second nature for the German to allow the man his helpful yet strange gesture.

Their trip to the kitchen after that was short and interrupted abruptly before Feliciano could serve the German by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

“Are you expecting someone? Should I set another plate?”

“No…not at all...” Ludwig muttered in annoyance. Why couldn’t he just enjoy his dinner with the Italian without interruption? There was always this constant interruption in his life now. He couldn’t even enjoy the simple things.

“Are you going to answer it?” The brunette asked him curiously when the doorbell rang a second time and the German had made no move to answer his door.

“…” A heavy sign escaped him. “Yes. Wait here, I’ll return as soon as I send who ever that is away.”

Of course it was never that simple. When he opened the door he was shocked to see the woman who stood there, greeting him with a cheerful smile.

“Good Evening Ludwig, how are you?”

He couldn’t say a word to her, his whole throat had sealed up in pain How could she be here now? How could she dare show her face? Her smiling face!

“Elizabeta,” Her name felt like acid on the end of his tongue as he stared at her face.

“Ludwig,” She tried again, her smile faltering slightly at his unwelcome frown. “May I come in?”

She was already stepping past him before he could say no and slam the door in her face. The German’s shock was so large he could do nothing for a moment but stand there in the open doorway, watching her. What kind of person was she? Did his brother actually love such a selfish, self important woman?

“You look pale, are you ill? I heard it’s been going around. Poor Vash, I heard he’s been laid up in bed with a flu something horrible.”

His stomach rolled. Yes, he was about to be sick if she stood here, pretending everything was ok. How could she, how fucking could she, was all he could think as he stared at the woman in front of him. His mind was in a fog and all he could see was him punching her hard in the face. The German had never hit a woman before but he supposed now was a good a time as any to start.

“Germany? She’s right you look pale.” Italy’s anxious voice broke the haze that had settled over him and he snapped back to reality as his blue eyes flickered nervously over the others form. Thank god he was here.

The German could have just found himself doing something horrible. Something he would have regretted forever. What would Gilbert say when he came home and found out his brother had murdered his girlfriend in a fit of rage?

“Why are you here?” Ludwig was relieved his voice didn’t crack with emotion. It made him feel stronger, more in control of the situation.

“Well I…” Elizabeta shifted uncomfortably under the others stare. “I came to see Gilbert, if that’s ok.”

“My…brother?” He was so shocked he didn’t even know what to say.

“Eliza…Gilbert isn’t here,” Ludwig could hear the Italians soft voice but he couldn’t even think, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak.

“Oh, did he go out already? It’s a little earlier than usual but I thought I might catch him-“

“Get out.” The German finally found his voice, his blue eyes snapping to the woman who stood confused in the middle of his floor.

“I don’t understand-“

“Get the fuck out of my house! Now!”

“Ludwig really! There’s no reason for you to raise your voice to a lady! Such language you should be ashamed!” Her eyes were blazing in annoyance as she placed her hands on her hips. Of all people she would not allow some man, some German at that, boss her around.

“Eliza please, maybe you should go,” Italy tried to sound less afraid than he felt but he could see the rage in the German’s eyes and it scared him. He had never, never seen Germany so angry, even in all the years they had fought together, he had never had such a crazy look in his eyes as he did now looking at the angry woman standing in the foyer.

“Not until he apologizes to me! How unbelievably rude! Feli, you heard what he said! I’ve done nothing wrong here-“

“Nothing wrong! Nothing wrong you lying snake of a woman!” The German roared as he crossed the length between them in three long strides. Grabbing both of her arms he shook the woman furiously, snapping her head back and forth with the force of his movements.

“Ludwig no! Please, don’t do this you don’t want to do this!” Feliciano was shocked when he saw the German move. There was no way for him to physically stop him but he had to try. It was like a tick hanging off the hairs of a dog as he grabbed the German’s arm, trying to pry his iron grip from the poor woman.

“Lying! Coward! Selfish! Daughter of a whore! How fucking dare you! How dare you come to this house! How dare you even say my brother’s name!”

“Ludwig! You’re hurting her! Can’t you see you’re hurting her!” Feliciano scrabbled at the man’s arms but he couldn’t even move them a bit. He could see the woman’s skin turning a dangerous shade of purple where the German’s fingers dug into her skin.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Elizabeta was screaming in his face, her nails clawing at the man’s arms in desperation. The slap in his face was perhaps deserved but the punch to hers was not. The woman went down like a sack of potatoes at the German’s feet as he stood over her panting, his hands still clenched into fists.

“Get out of my house,” His voice did crack this time as he stared down at her shocked green eyes. He could see the bruise already blossoming on her face, the red outline of his fist on her cheek.

“You crazy son of a bitch,” She hissed painfully from the floor, cupping her face. Her eyes full of tears as she stared at him. “When Roderich hears about this!”

Something deep inside of him snapped at the woman’s words and with a roar he leapt at her, fists raised in utter rage. He would pound her face until there was nothing left.

“Ludwig no! Stop!”

He almost couldn’t stop, he almost made a horrible mistake when Feliciano darted between him and Elizabeta, grabbing his fist in his small weak hands. The Italian was lucky, damn lucky the German trained so much. Damn lucky the German could stop. Damn lucky he didn’t have a crushed nose.

“Feliciano,” The other’s name was a soft breath from his lips as the two stared at each other. The German’s cold bloodthirsty eyes meeting the Italians pleading puppy dog browns. It was like he had been stuck with a needle, and all of the anger had been drained from him. His arms dropped to his sides like they were made of lead as the two stared at each other.

“Please Ludwig, that’s enough,” Feliciano told him in a quiet voice. “Please don’t hit her anymore.”

A heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach as he stared at the other. Ludwig could tell. The Italian was disappointed in him and for some reason that hurt even more than the fact that the backstabbing Hungarian was laying on his floor. He felt sick, with himself, with the situation, everything. He wished he had slammed the door in her face.

Without a word he turned and walked away, He had to. He couldn’t stay in the room anymore. Not with the bitch, not with Feliciano’s disappointed stare pinning him down. Not with the thought of Gilbert eating at his heart every second he took a breath. For the first time in his life, Ludwig had to admit to himself, he just couldn’t handle this anymore.


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