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White Crimson	By : FlayraDowitcher Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 1109 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
***Warnings: Language, minor violence, disturbing scene

***Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.

'I am just a worthless liar.

I am just an imbecile.

I will only complicate you.

Trust in me and fall as well.

I will find a center in you.

I will chew it up and leave,

Trust me, trust me, trust me' -'Sober' by TOOL

Chapter 9

His eyes stung from crying.

The last time he had cried like this was after Fredrick's funeral, in the privacy of his own chambers. First Fredrick, then Alfred, and now Ivan. As Ludwig had pointed out, those were people very close to him. There was no death toll for his followers, but who knew how many have perished in his name. Rolling over, he buried his face in the pillow to muffle his cry of frustration. Giving in to the boy-king was something he could never do; he did not know the meaning of the word 'surrender'. Yet he had to wonder if it was fair to keep allowing such horrible endings to befall his friends. This was more than a rebellion, it was turning out to be a full fledged war against the realm. Brother against brother. Such a civil war would be the beginning of the end for the kingdom. Fredrick's kingdom. His Fredrick.

Gilbert's head was pounding with a headache from his torrent of tears, and still they continued to fall. They were soft tears now, but tears nonetheless. He had to stop this behavior, it was not like him and crying never solved anything. Keeping a clear head and a strong tongue was what he needed. Yet he could not stop those tears from falling silently onto his pillow. Maybe it was the cold of the room, or the fact that he was locked up in such a dark place that made crying easier. He closed his eyes, trying to picture a happier time. The image of his castle, House Prussia, came to mind first. It was summer, and the back field was alive with wildflowers. He could feel the warm sun beating down on his face as he lay his small frame into a patch of lavender.

He was a young boy again, running through the castle grounds playing with a wooden sword. Ducking behind hedges and trees, he carefully stalked the enemies. The gardener was a monster, and the carriage man a mean soldier. He was wearing his grandfather's cloak that bore the black falcon symbol of his family. It was large for him, but he ran with it anyway, tripping over the cloth every so often. The hill he was running up was a mighty mountain full of dangers, and when he reached the top, he praised his bravery with the wooden sword. That was when he saw the king's banners and entourage coming down his road. Grinning, he took the rough way, which involved rolling down the hill. He ran towards the parade, covered in dirt. Stopping short, he laid eyes on the king for the very first time riding atop his horse. The king smiled down at him briefly but continued his way to the castle.

He ran ahead of them and to the castle to wash up. He wanted to be there when the king sat at his dinner table with his parents. However, his parents kept him in his room, but he was determined to meet the king. Sneaking out the door and down the hall, he could hear the adults talking and laughing. Peeking around the corner, he caught sight of King Fredrick once again. No one noticed him, but a moment later the king had. "We have a visitor." Said the king with a smile, waving him out. "Don't be afraid, come out."

"Your highness," started his father "surely a young boy of seven does not need to be present at our table."

"Nonsense." Said the king. "Children are the future of our realm. Come on out, young man. Don't be shy."

He grinned and ran out into the dining hall towards the king. His father tried to grab at him, as did his mother. He looked up at the king's gentle face and gave a large grin.

"What intriguing eyes you have. Your skin and hair is so white." The king looked at him curiously.

"Forgive his appearance, your majesty." Said his father. "He was born that way. The Spirits seemed to think he needed to look peculiar."

"It don't bother me none!" He said proudly, putting little hands on his hips. "I'm the Great and Powerful Gilbert of House Prussia! I will beat all the enemies and slay the dragons!" He pulled out his wooden sword and swung it, accidently hitting the king in his arm.

"GILBERT!" His mother scolded. "Apologize right now!"

Fredrick laughed. "It was harmless child's play. But you're going to be big and strong some day, aren't you?" He ruffled the white hair. "Are you going to be one of my knights?"

"Yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!" He climbed onto the king's lap and his father grew red with anger, his mother almost fainted. "I'm gonna beat up everybody! I'm the biggest and strongest and baddest in the whole entire kingdom. No! The world!"

Fredrick laughed wholeheartedly. "What a charming boy you have."

"Gilbert, please, go play outside! Adults are talking." Scolded his father. "I will play with you later."

"You never play with me." He looked at his father strangely.

"Gilbert, do as you are told!" He listened to his father and hopped off the king's lap, running out of the castle to continue playing outside.

Awhile later, in the gardens, he was hiding in a thicket of bushes, waiting to ambush the enemies. Instead, the king had come along and found him. Gilbert squealed and ran away, darting under his legs to escape. "You can't catch me! You can't catch me!" The king laughed and actually chased after him, which only delighted him further. He ran and hid in various spots, but the king always found him. He wished his own father was like the king, and when the man lifted him in his arms to swing his little body around, he laughed with joy. Never had he experienced so much fun with one person, least of all the king.

Gilbert smiled when he opened his red-rimmed eyes, the memory having wiped away the tears. He had long since forgotten the simple innocence of his childhood, and the visit from Fredrick. The young king had taken special time to play with him. Gilbert knew that Fredrick and his queen could not have children, which he wanted more than anything. When Gilbert first left his house to join Fredrick at the castle, he thought the king looked at him as a loyal son. Gilbert always wanted to be more than that, and so did the king, to an extent. If only Fredrick hadn't been so faithful and loyal to his wife and duties as a king, then maybe they could have been together. So many times they had the private opportunity to share in more than just speech, but Fredrick was too noble. Now Fredrick was gone from his life, and he once again felt utterly alone.

'Killing yourself is still an option, you know.' Gilbert opened his eyes as he heard the voice of Ivan echoing in his ears. He sat up from the bed and nearly shrieked at the bleeding image of Ivan at the foot of his bed. The bandage was gone and his eyes were nothing more than red bleeding orbs as they peered darkly at Gilbert.

"It's not my fault you died." Gilbert whispered at him, rubbing his eyes to make the vision go away. However, the image of Ivan still remained in the same spot. "It's not my fault that Alfred died either. There is always that chance in war!" Ivan was here to haunt him, just as he had sworn to do. "He died a noble death."

'He was beheaded from his horse and his body left to rot in some field while his head froze on a pike!'

"NO!" Gilbert hollered. "It was Alfred's choice! I didn't make him do anything! It was his choice! His choice!"

'It's your fault! You're to blame! You're to blame for all of this! My Alfred is dead because of you! How many more bodies will lay before you until you end this war? Will you continue to walk upon the remains of the dead to reach your precious king? I should kill you right here and now!' Ivan's form crawled onto the bed, leaving a bloody trail along the sheets.

"Get away from me!" Gilbert screamed and leapt from the bed. He shoved the vision away but did not hear a body hit the floor. His breath lodged in his throat, waiting for the image to appear once again. "You're dead. You're dead…you're not really here." He glanced at the bottom of the bed, taking a step away from the darkened floor. "You're not under there…you're not. You're not." 'Be brave…the dead can't hurt you.' Holding his breath, Gilbert knelt onto the floor and quickly peered under the bed; yet saw nothing. 'It's just my head playing tricks on me.' He stood up and glanced around the room, but there was no sign of Ivan. Still, Gilbert's body was trembling from more than just the cold. So taking the top sheet, he went over to the fire, sat close to it, and threw the sheet over his head to hide from the guilty shadows.

/

Roderich swiftly made his way to the office chamber of the head judge of the High Council. He told the judge's groom that he had a concern about 'something' within in the city. Once he was granted permission, Roderich took out the piece of parchment and entered the chamber. "Head Master Oswald," he bowed "I come to you in great secret."

The elderly judge peered up at him from his work, clearing his throat. His voice was strained from age, but he offered Roderich a seat. "Speak plainly, old friend."

"If anyone can help, it's you." He handed the old man the paper. "Read the signature on the bottom, then read its contents." Roderich sat patiently while the man carefully looked at the document, his old face slowly changing from calm to surprise.

"This is the late king's own hand." Oswald confirmed. "How did you obtain this? Why was it not found upon Fredrick's death?"

"Of that I am not sure. It was found at King Fredrick's spare castle. Someone knew about it, and they hid it from view at the last minute."

Oswald looked at him with pale eyes. "Gilbert is the rightful king, then. Fredrick named him the successor…but who would tamper with such an important document?"

Roderich leaned forward to speak softly. "I have cause to believe that it was someone on Fredrick's side. I want to say his brother, the Duke, or his sister-in-law, or rather anyone on that side who wants to see their son, Fredrick's nephew, as the king."

"If that is true, then our next question would be, who was there when this document was written. Or if Fredrick had it with him near the time of his death, then who was present at the time to take it. Someone had to have known about it."

"Exactly." Roderich agreed. "Which leads me to the conclusion that Gilbert's imprisonment may be more than just for a 'religious rebellion'. Our king or his subjects who know about this document would want Gilbert dead regardless."

Oswald gave a shallow nod. "The rebellion is just making it harder for them. This would explain why the king takes so long to create a new trial for Gilbert. He does not want to look suspicious in case some others know about this paper. The rebellion could be nothing more than a scapegoat for the king."

"So, will you help me in bringing down the king? With Gilbert on the throne, many of our old friends will be able to return to the court and realm. Many of which we hated to see go. Our friends would outnumber any of the king's 'subjects'."

"While I want to agree with you, I cannot help but fear for Gilbert's life. He is not of royal blood, and there are many descendants of the Old Blood that will not accept him sitting on the throne. They will plot to kill him swiftly and quickly, allowing the boy-king to rule again. He may soon be dead before our old friends can return." Roderich rubbed his temples. "And Lord Roderich, let us not forget about Gilbert's secret relations with Fredrick. It is already a nasty suspicion among many, and some will believe this document was made only because Fredrick was in love with him."

Roderich gave him a curious look. "How do you know of Fredrick's feelings for certain?"

Oswald gave an old, breathily laugh. "Anyone who knows what they are looking for could see it plain as day. In another sense, King Fredrick may have wanted Gilbert on the throne because the young man could never be seated beside him in this life. If such a union for royalty was allowed, those two would have made a great pair for ruling the kingdom."

"Even so, emotional feelings aside, how do you see Fredrick's death? Now that you have this document in front of you, do you still believe it was natural causes?"

Oswald coughed a bit before answering. "Fredrick's physicians were trusted men, they would have been able to pinpoint any poison upon examination. Fredrick had fallen ill, and the sickness took him."

Roderich nodded. "So will you help me bring down the boy-king and raise Gilbert to the throne?"

"Yes, Lord Roderich, I will do so with all my heart and soul. There are risks involved, but they are risks we must take. Fredrick was a dear friend of mine and Gilbert treated me with respect and kindness. I bear no ill-will to his nephew, but the boy is a cruel and unjust ruler and such a tyrant will not be allowed any longer in my realm. You send out your men, I will send out mine."

Roderich gave a small smile and nod. "Thank you for your time, Judge Oswald. I will be in touch shortly."

"Take the parchment with you, keep it safe. The king often looks at my work, best he not come across it."

/

Three hangings in one day was more than enough work for Ludwig, and he was eager to see Gilbert at the end of the day. One of the people he had to kill was forced to strip of his clothing, so Ludwig took the fur cloak to give to Gilbert. The moment a councilman or Royal Guard saw Gilbert wrapped up they would snatch it away, but until then, at least, the man could be warm. Ludwig had received word that Gilbert would be taken away for more questioning soon. He would have to be there to help support the man while he underwent the interrogation.

But he was eager to bring the cloak to Gilbert, but the simple joy quickly faded when a thought had occurred to him. Would Gilbert be upset over Ivan's death? The man had been sensitive enough after Alfred's, so he hoped Ivan's wouldn't break Gilbert's spirit. As quickly as he could, Ludwig hurried to Gilbert's chamber and unlocked the door. He opened it slowly and looked in, finding a lump of white on the floor in front of a dying fire. Closing the door, Ludwig cleared his throat to let himself be known to the other.

Like a ghost, Gilbert arose from the floor draped in the long white sheet, slowly turning to face Ludwig with seemingly dead pink eyes. They were dark and swollen from tears, but his features appeared to be that of a frightened madman. Ludwig tried to keep the conversation casual, straying away from any mention or talk of Ivan's execution. "Gilbert, look here, I've brought you something." He held up the cloak. "It's elk fur, so it will keep you warm while being in here. Do you like it?" Ludwig wasn't keen on giving gifts, much less caring if someone liked it. Gilbert, however, he thought differently of. He wanted the man to approve of his gift. Ludwig felt like the lame wolf coming to bear a kill in hopes to please a chosen mate.

"A suitable gift…you may lay it upon my shoulders." Gilbert's voice was a harsh whisper as he spoke, barely lifting his head now to look at Ludwig.

Ludwig walked over with the cloak and tossed it around Gilbert's shoulders, pulling it taunt in the front. "It's just the right size." He wanted nothing more than to see Gilbert naked under the cloak, or sprawled out on it while on the bed. His lust would have be kept in control, though, for the look on Gilbert's face was not that of a person who wanted intimacy. Even in Gilbert's state, Ludwig wanted to lay with him but cursed himself for thinking such an insincere and guilty thought.

"Thank you." Gilbert said and went to stand by the fire. "You can go now."

Ludwig was surprised. "I thought I would stay for a bit."

"I don't want you here." Gilbert snapped. "I'm in no mood to see anyone."

"You've heard of Ivan's death, then?" Ludwig cleared his throat. "He wanted to be executed by beheading. He was due to be hanged, but we were able to have it changed."

"It doesn't change the fact that he is dead…and he's in this room, Ludwig. He's in this room right now." Gilbert turned frightened eyes on him. "He said he would haunt me, and he's doing it." The last part was a whisper.

Ludwig frowned deeply and twitched a bit at the beginning signs of a breakdown in those pink eyes. The captivity, torture, trials, deaths, and guilt were now taking their toll on Gilbert. Ludwig had seen this happen many times before. The tight, almost constant confinements usually drove a normal person to madness, or at least altered their personalities. Gilbert had lasted longer than any of the others he had seen. "Gilbert, Ivan is not here. The dead cannot come back to life."

"But he was here, Ludwig! I saw him! He spoke to me!"

"It's all in your head. Guilt plays a huge role in all these visions, Gilbert. Your head is telling you what to see and what words are spoken from his form. I have to say it; Ivan is gone from this world. It's like going to sleep, except you don't wake up."

"I can't believe that." Gilbert said truthfully. "Maybe it's not what I think, but there is something."

Ludwig crossed his arms. "There is nothing."

"Then why don't you find out?" Gilbert smirked darkly. "Kill yourself now, and come back to me as a ghost and let me know EVERYTHING that is happening."

"That's foolish. I'm more valuable alive than dead."

"Then you have no reason to speak on issues you do not understand! Get out!" He pointed to the door. "I don't want you here!"

"Very well." Ludwig knew it was best to give Gilbert some space and time to cope with the guilt on his own. "I'll come by to see you later." With one last look at the cloaked figure, Ludwig left the cell and locked it behind him.

/

Bloodshot, sleepless eyes glanced to the side as the large door opened with a heavy squeak. Gilbert was still wrapped in the fur cloak while huddling beside a dying fire. He did not have the energy to turn around, nor did he care to. It didn't matter who was coming inside, whether it be friend or foe. He had lost all track of time, unknowing how long he had been huddled in this spot. All Gilbert did was pull the cloak tighter around himself when the familiar voice of a councilman filled the room. "Good evening to you, Gilbert. We are here to escort you to the interrogation room. There you will be questioned on various topics pertaining to your crimes. Should you refuse, you will be whipped. Continue to be silent and disorderly, we will resort to a more severe punishment."

Gilbert stood up without a word of complaint and walked over to the guards. The councilman looked suspicious of Gilbert's somber attitude while taking a few steps back to stand safely behind a guard. Gilbert made no move to escape, attack, or speak, only glaring tired lidded eyes at the men surrounding him. Once guard carefully removed the cloak from his shoulders, letting it pool around his bare feet. Another guard applied the shackles to his wrists, linking the chains together with the one from his iron collar. The other guard roughly tugged at the chains, forcing Gilbert to lurch forward. The second guard remained behind him with a sword in hand, prepared for an attack. But Gilbert was not interested in attacking or yelling. His mind was in a fog and nothing seemed to matter.

Once in the interrogation room, Gilbert noticed that Ludwig was present. The councilman ordered Ludwig to lock his shackles with the ceiling chain. Ludwig said nothing while taking his shackled wrists and locking the securely into place. One of the torturers spun the wheel to lift him off of the floor, but this time his toes could not touch the bottom. Already he could feel the pressure of his suspended weight pooling in his shoulders, but it was nothing compared to that of the guilt. He stared down at the stone floor, calmly awaiting the slew of questions he was not going to answer.

"Remove that tunic from him." Said the councilman.

Ludwig, standing nearby, narrowed his gaze at the torturer as the man's thick gloved hands gripped the back of Gilbert's tunic. The rip echoed through the room and exposed the creamy white back littered with faded wounds. When Ludwig saw the man lick his lips and rip the tunic the rest of the way off Gilbert's body, he let out a sharp 'hey'! Both the councilman and guard turned to look at him. "Let me be the one to punish him. Give me the whip."

"Suit yourself." Bellowed the torturer, tossing the whip over to Ludwig who caught it. "I'd rather watch from the front anyway."

Ludwig unraveled the whip and went to take his place behind Gilbert. Pink eyes looked at him, but they held no expression. Ludwig gripped the whip in his hand and stood a few feet behind the hanging man, taking a moment to admire the pale posterior. He was not about to let some stranger whip Gilbert while he was present. It was a strange sort of possessiveness that had come over him the moment he saw that man lick his lips. If anyone was going to do anything Gilbert, pain or not, it would only be him. The punishment had to be carried out regardless of how he felt about Gilbert. If Ludwig were to refuse or leave the room, then he himself would be in trouble. Getting punished for doing so would raise suspicion of their intimate relationship, and Ludwig could not allow them to be exposed. He had some lies planned should they get caught, but it was still a dark issue he would like avoid. When the councilman began to speak, Ludwig cleared his thoughts to listen and focus.

"Sir Gilbert, our men are tracking down your rebels like a herd of deer. If you wish to keep them from meeting fates such as that of young Lord Alfred, you will tell me their names." Gilbert was silent. "Lash him."

Ludwig lifted the whip and let it whistle through the air, striking Gilbert's bare back. Gilbert jerked in his chains but did not let out a sound.

"You don't have to do this to yourself, Sir Gilbert. Everything will be forgiven if you just answer the question. Names. I want names."

"Jack and shit." Came Gilbert's whispered answer and the councilman gave the order to lash. Ludwig did so, drawing blood this time.

"Are there any people at court who are spies?" No answer. Another lash. "How many of your rebel friends are nobles? How many are low-born?"

Gilbert gave no answer and Ludwig let the whip fly, striking another red lash. This time, Gilbert let out a soft hiss of pain.

"I can stay here all night doing this, Sir Gilbert."

Gilbert forced a smirk then and lifted his head to peer at the man. "This whole attack of yours is stupid. I could give you names, but you have no way of knowing if they are false or real."

Dark eyes narrowed. "You will be punished further if we found those people innocent."

"Fuck that. Your king is starting a heretic hunt, where no real justice will be given to anyone. Just a mention they are a follower of the old ways or of me, they will die."

"This is true." Said the man. "But it can all end if you would just give me the names of the other rebel leaders. This rebellion is still going on in a VERY organized manner. SOMEONE is giving the orders and arranging the attacks. I want to know who that someone is. Whip him again. Two this time."

Ludwig did so and Gilbert let out another hiss, only louder this time.

"I'm not going to fucking talk. Do what you will, but in the end you will not succeed. Even with my death, all the information dies with me, and the rebellion will continue on more powerful than ever." Gilbert smirked, showing his teeth. "So keep doing this to me. It will do you no good."

"AGAIN! WHIP HIM!" The councilman shouted in outrage.

Ludwig gripped the whip and slashed Gilbert again, then twice more. The blood began to trickle down the pale skin, past that white rump and down milky thighs. Ludwig frowned deeply when he felt the stirring of an erection, and it disgusted him. Just the sight of Gilbert bound and naked was enough to excite him, but this was proving to be a little more. It disturbed him. "YOU! SERVANT! WHIP HIM HARDER!"

"It will do no good. You heard what he just said. And he is a noble."

"We are working on having that changed!" The man hissed.

"I'll take over." Said the torturer. "Give it to me."

"No." Ludwig answered simply. "What are you going to achieve?"

The torturer smirked. "I get to watch a bound and naked lord get whipped bloody by me." He ripped the whip from Ludwig's hold. "Back off, buddy. You don't even belong here, it's not your fucking job. Scram." Ludwig stood still.

"Shall I have you arrested as well for defying your subordinate AND councilman?"

Ludwig gave a swift bow of his head before turning on his heel to storm out of the room. He wouldn't be able to help Gilbert if he were to be arrested, and it wouldn't be good for him either. He was low-born and lame on top of it. Death could come quickly and swiftly for him just because there was no 'lord' before his name. Why something so ridiculous as status and title could hold such power over life and death was a mystery to him. Kings, lords, and peasants all suffer the same trials of life, yet some get treated better than others. If it had been him in Gilbert's place, he would have been gagged, beaten, whipped, burned, stabbed, skinned, and the mental list went on. Ludwig wouldn't be human if the thoughts didn't give him a shiver of fear.

There was not much he could do for Gilbert at the moment. He would be there for Gilbert after the man was returned to his cell. There, he could nurse Gilbert back to health and try to pull him out of the depressed state. But all the standing and walking had made his knee start to ache, so he headed back to his chambers to rest. Along his walk through the halls back to his chambers, Ludwig came across Elizaveta coming up from the other way. She had her head lowered while carrying a basket of linens. Ludwig looked around to make sure there was no one before approaching her. He called her name softly and the young woman paused, but refused to look at him. Ludwig had to figure that she too was upset over Ivan's death. "Are you alright, Miss Elizaveta? Gilbert told me your name."

"I'm fine." She stated quickly. "I just…have to deliver these linens, then I must find Roderich."

"Roderich? Are you speaking of 'Lord' Roderich?" Green eyes tinted red looked up at him. "I know where he is right now, if that is what you are going to ask." She seemed hopeful, so Ludwig continued. "I saw Lord Roderich and a few others taking a stroll through the gardens on their way to the meeting house. He most likely is still there, debating with the others over whatever matters and concerns they may have."

"Are you certain of this?"

"I am."

"Good, come with me then!" She dropped the basket and took his hand, urging him along.

"Please, don't involve me in your issues as well."

"I really must speak with him! It's urgent!"

"Then why do I have to come?"

"Just come! I need a reason to be walking around the area of the meeting and you're just an escort for a young lady."

Ludwig did as he was told and allowed Elizaveta to lead him. They strolled through the gardens, losing their way only once, before the meeting hall came into view. It was a very small, one story castle made only for hosting meetings and occasionally a feast. Guards were posted outside of the doors so the two would have to wait until the lords came out. They took a seat on one of the cold stone benches and waited patiently. Ludwig tried to ask what her dilemma was, but Elizaveta simply would not answer. Instead, he tried a different approach with a different question. "So you are a noblewoman and a knight, but was dressed as a man when it happened?"

"Yes. I prefer men's clothing for the most part. I'm only dressed this way to help Gilbert."

"Speaking of Gilbert, who is he to you? A dear friend? A comrade? Cousins?" She chuckled.

"Something like that." She flashed him a curious smile. "We're old and…very close friends. That's all you have to know. I'm engaged to Roderich once everything is back to normal. He and Gilbert are old friends as well."

"I see." Ludwig said nothing more of the issue but remained silent for the duration of their time there. He was just dozing off when Elizaveta shook him frantically.

"He's here! They're done their meeting! I'll catch up with you later, Ludwig! Thank you!"

Even though she took off without much as a backwards glance, Ludwig decided to follow her. He was curious as to know what had her so upset and what was so important that she had to tell Roderich. Carefully, he approached the group in secret, waiting until he saw Roderich walk off with Elizaveta. Ludwig followed along the hedges, keeping them in ear shot. He was finding this sort of activity to be very…entertaining.

"What has you so upset?" Roderich asked. Ludwig peeked through the hedges.

"It's what I saw last night while sleeping in the quarters!" She whispered to him. "I saw Alfred."

'Not another one.' Ludwig gave an inward sigh.

"You saw him? What do you mean, you 'saw' him? Did you see him as an apparition?"

"Yes." She looked forlorn. "It was quiet in the women's quarters, everyone was asleep. There were only a few candles lit when I woke up to the sound of sobbing. When I sat up in my little bed, I saw Alfred sitting at the foot of it, his back towards me. He was hunched over, with his face buried in his hands and he was crying. They were soft tears, but I swear it to you, Roderich, that was him! And the feeling I got afterwards was worse! I fear something very bad is going to happen!"

"Lizzy, you are being silly." He tucked a hair behind her ear. "There are no such things as ghosts. You're just upset over the loss of our friends." He spoke softly. "The pain and sorrow will get easier as the days go on. I grieve as well, don't think that I don't have remorse for what has happened."

"Not at all, I know you do. It's just that…seeing his form so…so depressed like that. It is so unlike Alfred. He may be crying because he can't find Ivan."

"Don't be silly. The Spirits would never let someone as loyal to them as Alfred go through eternity without the person he loved the most. They aren't cruel. They are just and caring deities." He whispered.

She had tears in her eyes. "But Roderich…I can picture it so easy right now. I whispered his name but he did not hear me. I reached for him, yet he faded away. What if he really is trying to tell us something? What if he is trying to warn us? Neither of us were there at the battle where he fell. What if he saw something? Something crucial to our cause?" He cleared his throat.

"Lizzy, remember this, our biggest enemies are within this court, not on the battlefield. What you saw was a dream apparition or a vision brought on by sorrow, pain, and guilt. Do you know how Gilbert is taking it?"

"He's heartbroken…as I knew he would be. Despite everything, he was hesitant to send Alfred, so young, out to the field to fight. Even though Alfred was skilled and won many battles for us, he was still young and inexperienced. Someone like myself or Gilbert needed to be there with him."

"Yet you weren't. Both of you were here, where you were most needed. Now, I don't want to hear any more ghost nonsense. It was a dream and nothing more. And please, keep yourself in control. Try not to cry or be upset, because men feed off of that vulnerability. You are a maid and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

"Yes, Gilbert is our top priority right now. After all, he is the rightful king an-" Roderich covered her mouth and Ludwig's blue eyes widened.

"Say no more. That is enough. Let us share a cup of tea and cakes in my parlor. No ghost talk." He warned her softly. "Come along, then." Roderich fumbled with his meeting sack and cloak, trying to warm himself properly. He cursed softly while he struggled to settle himself, yet dropped something onto the snowy ground. Roderich and Elizaveta did not see it fall from the bag, but Ludwig did.

It was a leather bound book of some kind, almost like a journal. Checking to make sure no one was around, he stuck his arm out through the hedge and took possession of the book. Taking another quick look, Ludwig untied the leather binds holding it closed. Opening the cover, he looked to the left and gave a curious gasp at the signature he saw there. The signature of the late king. Fredrick.

End Chapter 9
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White Crimson