Help! I'm not breathing...(1947)

June 1947

Roderich regretted that he did not his front door violently enough to smack the Russian's nose to the point of severe bleeding.

Though he simply did not have enough power to do so; he had been sustaining with the so-called starvation diet for the past year, and recently his daily ration had been reduced from two meals to one potato per day. Technically he would not die, and people would do what was needed to prevent him from withering, though secretly he desired death especially upon seeing the Russian's face, the man who addressed him as "comrade" and insisted that rationing was much more advanced than capitalistic distribution.

He thought the Russian came by to demand special service or to inform him about complete halt of food ration, which he did not mind, but he did not expect the Russian to be brainless enough to ask this very person, whom he personally declared as Nazi's foremost victim, to attend to the German's emotional needs. On top of the 35% national budget feeding the brainless Allies soldiers for occupation, as well as the USIA and the complete elimination of food assistance, Roderich should have realised earlier that there was nothing that the Russian was not shameless enough to ask for.

If anything, it would be the Allies' fault to implement guilt onto Ludwig without knowing when to stop. So many options that could have done to provide comfort to the German, they chose to dissolv-

Let's not go into that.

It was undeniable, however, that Roderich could somewhat identify with the Allies' position to ask Roderich for a counseling session, regardless of the inherent ironic nature of the requirement. He had witnessed the mental breakdown of Ludwig after the Great War that were closely linked to the overall dissatisfaction of German speaking people against the Allies, ultimately becoming one of the many catalysts of the second war. With the three western imbeciles, Francis in particular, they could potentially mistreat Ludwig and repeat the same historical error.

Indeed, it was true that no one else in Europe, other than himself, could understand the German better. Thus Roderich obliged to go, under escort of the Red Army soldiers, to fly directly into West Berlin. Though Roderich would rather have the Allies leave him alone to resolve the irony of very nature of the renounced political union. It was too much trouble to meet Ludwig - what was he supposed to say to him after an awkward two years, "How are you doing recently", "I have not had a meal for the last few days", "I apologise for switching my official position to an anti-Nazi status", or "how is the reconstruction"?

---

It was a terribly humble flat that Ludwig was relocated into, Roderich noted to himself. The condition was even worse than the house he currently lived in, which was slightly bombed but spacious and functional. He had a general idea from the Allies that Ludwig had been acting rather moody lately, but no further information was given. That was not enough to diagnose, and upon arriving at the flat Roderich still did not have the slightest idea on what to begin, other than trying to make the German not keeping everything to himself. The French soldier unlocked the door and allowed him in, and the Austrian thanked politely in French, but did not mean it.

Roderich noticed the German hunching over his desk at the corner as he glanced around the interior of the flat, which was modest, clean, and exceptionally organised, albeit soulless. The owner clearly was not attached to this shelter. The front door was closed silently, leaving the Austrian alone to accomplish the job.

"...Ludwig," He decided to speak first in a commanding voice, cutting off any possible objection from Ludwig, who should have noticed him by now. "Now you are wondering why am I here, and probably are going to tell me that you wish to be left alone and not be seen. The Allies asked me to be here." It had been two full years and Roderich felt quite awkward in finding the right way to say, thus he walked over to the desk, trying to see Ludwig better inside this dark room. His face was very unmoved, as usual; that part had not changed. His eyes, however, reflected a certain mental state that produced a very strangely familiar combination to Roderich. He had seen such empty yet complicated expression before...

Oh, he had seen the blond in this mental state before - just not under the same set of memories and disposition. The memories were altered and personalities were different, yet the very German essence did not change. The last time Roderich encountered this type of moodiness, he chose the course of inaction due to the restriction of social hierarchy and court etiquette. He regretted not offering consultation, not providing a way to release emotion. The ending was not very pleasing, to say the very least.

"Ludwig..." His voice turned soft and pleading. "Are you thinking that by reflecting and keeping to yourself, war criminals will receive their share of punishment, de-Nazification will complete, militarism will be over, and economy will be recovered naturally?" He thought of the blond boy looking depressed after a failed Reichreform, a program that was mostly out of the boy's own control.

"Are you thinking that you could have changed something to revert the situation?" He thought of the blond boy taking most of the toll on behalf of the Hapsburg for the Catholic loss in the Thirty Years War, which was, again, mostly a widespread ducal trend that could not be reverted. He thought of the blond boy deeming most of the failures as the direct result of his feebleness, when the problem was more on rebellious, sovereign duchies and a weak Austria in promoting centralisation.

"Are you thinking that by being alone, you will eventually solve all problems like a philosopher, rationality triumphing over sentiment?" He thought of the later years when his emperor abandoned the blond boy to die on the battlefield. Roderich had no clue how the blond boy felt, but it was very likely that at his last breath, the blond boy still felt that he could have done better to strengthen himself.

And he thought of himself not even treating or supporting Heinrich or Ludwig warmly for once. He was just.... so cold, ceremonial, and perhaps, impersonal.

Those two seldom share their very own pain and joy to others, always keeping stress to themselves, accumulating pain and agony over the time. Eventually the bubble burst, harming the surroundings, and the self-conflicting process would repeat and repeat again, just like a permanent curse of the history of the Germanic empire.

"Don't, Ludwig. Don't keep the emotion to yourself." The image of Heinrich dominated Roderich's mind, to a point where he actually had an illusion of Ludwig in Heinrich's old black cloak, with the identical fearful eyes. "Don't let history repeat itself any longer."

"From year 962 till this day, has there been a century when you could at least enjoy a moment of peace? Why must you shoulder such responsibility and agony? I once had a hopeful thought after unification that, perhaps under someone else's guidance would the poor boy of Holy Roman Empire finally get rid of the curse of tumultuous childhood and grow up healthily, eventually emerging as a stable power in Europe? ...How wrong I was. My very own people ended up dragging you into lethal wars. Not once, but twice."

A drop of tear fell down from the corner of his eye. Roderich was summoned here to help opening up Ludwig's heart, yet ironically, he was the one in need to open up first. Centuries of not opening up to neither Heinrich nor Ludwig tolled up, and his sense of guilt overflowed his emotion.

He was about to say some more, but that was too much. Gilbert was gone, and Elizaveta was under complete Soviet control; with only one person left in this continent whom he felt personal with, should he still maintain silly personal distance and manners? Ignoring all forms of objection, Roderich wrapped around Ludwig's body and embraced this body tightly for the first time of his life.

---

It really is just Roderich ended up being very emotional after 2 years of not seeing any of his close associates. How he hated the Russians.
Well, perhaps he witnessed the dissolution of Prussia (a few headcanons of mine) and he might have talked to Gilbert, but the scene wasn't exactly healing.
There is one action I really really really want Roderich to do to Ludwig, but I guess that's too much for one post, so I will just skip it...
I kind of allowed Roderich to just keep speaking, and defaulting what Ludwig would do during it. The lines might seem very long, but actual time should be minus all the thoughts, so actual speaking time should be less than 1.5 minutes (with the hug it is around 2 minutes). If there are any specific parts you find inappropriate, please let me know so I can fix it!
And hopefully this is more than enough to work with.
See you next morning : 3

Embracing Ludwig from the front with his head resting on the young man's shoulder, Roderich could not take note of the change of Ludwig's facial expression; but he could feel his existence and his warmth, right between his arms. This very unique attachment of kinship was something that the Austrian had forsaken when the worldly authority and prestige distracted and preoccupied him - perhaps both of them.

It would be the biggest lie if Roderich denied his emotional attachment dependence over the German. Over six centuries of close tie to a person was not a joke - his very creation, his glory and prestige; and later, his politics and economy were ultimately dependent on the success of the German, whether as a nominal symbol or as a pragmatic power. He was initially afraid of the embrace, but now he was very glad to have done it. It felt to him that he had destroyed his very own pair of self-inflicted handcuff, and that he had the courage to freely express his sentiments towards individuals he cared about.

He knew that Ludwig was not speaking, but he could still feel his eyes twitching, and his body leaning forward with his hands to cover his eyes, elbows on the table. Roderich was not stupid and he could guess what had just happened. He had never imagined Heinrich of Ludwig breaking into tears - perhaps they had, but not in front of him. Roderich personally cried many times as well, but mostly in private. As much as the Austrian was fond of psychoanalysis, he could not fully understand what was in Ludwig's mind other than guessing that he was deeply in pain, and probably developing hatred for Roderich for not telling him the truth sooner.

Here came the sounded sob, the choked sob that was unheard of. It was a series of powerful, agonising notes, each chord striking Roderich's heart deeply to swell with bittersweetness and guilt, bringing him more tears, and revoking his consciousness that he had caused the Germans' misfortune too much, a fact that the past and future historians would continue to disregard. Ludwig's body was so warm... so warm that he felt he had been deprived of human warmth for too long. He had had a moment of treating the other as an innocent child, offering him adorable items and special attention that he thought the blond boy deserved to enjoy... only to be severely rejected later. He obliged to the request of not treating the blond boy as a child, but perhaps he should have insisted to, and spoil the child a bit more?

If this was not the time to atone his sin, when would be the next time? The supposedly beneficial secret keeping turned out to be a chain reaction of misfortune, and Roderich had no wish to continue hiding anymore. Clutching onto Ludwig tightly, he moved up his hand and ruffled Ludwig's hair, slowly and fondly, patting his head lightly. "You must be hating me for withholding the truth, which I understand. You have all the reasons to dislike me, and you should. Let the tears flow, Ludwig. Do not hate the others. "

When Ludwig sounded a bit more settled, as so was Roderich, he broke away from the embrace but kept his hands on the German, pressing lightly onto his shoulder with one hand, and wiping his tears away with the other. "I hid countless of truth in the history lessons I gave. Your very own memories were turned into bland, factual statements, as if Holy Roman Empire - or Heinrich - did not exist as a person. I did not tell lies, nor did I tell all the truth."

Before continuing his explanation, Roderich took a deep, anguish breath with his eyes closed, preparing his memories and mindset for a possible set of painful interrogation. Then he regained his posture as he had been half kneeling on the floor during the embrace, looking at Ludwig firmly like a criminal turning in himself, waiting for righteous trial and punishment.

"Antiseptic applied on wounds would hurt, but ultimately it helps to heal." Roderich continued in a gentle, pleading voice. "Please, Ludwig, ask me anything, and I shall answer truthfully. I do not want to hide your memories any longer. You might feel deeply in pain upon hearing the truth, and so would I upon retelling it... but this is a healing process that you, and perhaps I, need."

"Please. Ask me."

How Ludwig clung onto Roderich with little warmth as the Austrian remained half kneeling, allowing the German to rest on his shoulder and wettening his back fabric, all felt too familiar and distastefully nostalgic.

---

It was after a quarter hour of silent prayer holding Heinrich's hands did Roderich made up his mind to move.

As the boy had been too weak to take any baths, the maids were usually the people who performed the cleaning in a regular basis. The basin of water in the room proved very useful as no living soul was around the rooms assisting him. Taking a washcloth and soaking it, Roderich carefully wiped the boy's face and most part of his body, cleaning the bloodstain that was left on his skin during his occasional coughing. His hand often trailed down subconsciously to check whether there was still rhythm of life; there wasn't. Removing the duvet over, the bloodstain covering most of white nightwear was evident, as if the boy passed away as an Austrian warrior as well.

His emotion halted again during the cleansing. The only focus in his mind was to adorn the boy with the grandest honour, and he did not bother asking himself why such action was necessary. The very instinct dictated that such course should be taken, that he shall take all ancient wealth to enjoy a majestic afterlife in heaven, with all the deceased civilisations. Perhaps he would even have a chance to meet Roman Empire as well.

Not until the cleaning was completed did Roderich remember that he had forgotten one important step. Taking out a stagger well hidden underneath the bed, Roderich went up to the bed, knees kneeling before Heinrich's body, he drew a circle in the air above the body, locating his left rib cage... and he froze, becoming cognizant of his wrongdoing, and dropped the dagger.. While the duchy of Austria belonged to the Holy Roman Empire in allegiance since its creation, the reverse logic did not hold true, as much as he wished, imagined, and how it appeared to be. He was never a Habsburg, thus he should not take his heart.

It was half past seven, with the sun beginning to set, midsummer light shining through the clear windows. He had finished adorning Heinrich with the pure white Austrian Generalfeldmarschall dress uniform, the Great Cross of the Military Order of Maria Theresa, ribbons, and various other badges. His hair was groomed, Totenoffizium was recited properly, and his extra coffin in the crypt was confirmed by the friars.

Not having a slight clue about how deceased nations’ body would become, Roderich was certain of the clear principle that if anything, Francis should be the last person in Europe aware of the hiding place of the beautiful corpse. With all German members seceded and called to the pretentious Rheinbundakte in Paris, Gilbert finally on his side but engaged in preparing war against the Frenchman, there was no one, not even Feliciano and the Vatican that he could ask within a week's time range for this bare funeral. The less people know, the better, even if it made the parting felt all too abrupt.

To conceal Heinrich’s presence, his neck was rested on Roderich’s shoulder, head lying against the back, the rest of his torso rested in his tight arms, and his entire body covered under the long black cape as an addition to Roderich’s full black mourning attire. The entrance was full of important guests staying over for the night; after much consideration he took the servants’ corridor discreetly, as he could not afford exposing the boy to the public... A slight thought of the consequence made him shiver incessantly.

The Viennese streets on Wednesday were rather desolated. He could hear his steps resonating, each step grave and heavy. The feeble candle light, barely lighting up their faces, was of no use.

The standard procedure, as usual - entry of Kapuzinerkirche. The new friars did not know who Heinrich really was, only knew that some royalty related person needed to be buried. Declaring Heinrich as a mortal sinner felt so ironic, yet immensely true.

Since Roderich specified that no requiem mass shall take place, to the dismay of the friars, the spare coffin reserved for children was already settled at the Crypt. The countless times of witnessing his royalty’s death, and countless times of attending entombment, Roderich grew accustomed to the dimmed lights, the smell, and the layout, just like an aging man getting used to his final resting place.

As Roderich carefully unwrapped the cape and lifted up the boy with both hands, which was two times lighter than what he had imagined. Strange feeling of wetness became noticeable at his back - reaching behind to examine the wetness, it turned out to be Heinrich’s coughing blood that never get cleaned out from his throat. Ignoring the bloodstain, he proceeded to place the boy inside the coffin, tidying up his clothing for the final time.

At last, as he knelt down, he placed a light kiss on his forehead.

The entombment was completed, and he finally had this huge burden relieved, Roderich told himself quietly. No more tears needed to flow, he ordered himself, as he did already before Heinrich lost his breath. Like all his beloved archdukes and archduchesses here, he would enjoy eternal peace, away from conflict, away from violence.

Did he really feel relieved, though?

It still weighed heavily in his heart as he found himself unable to move his limbs. He still remembered the day of his creation, his baptism, and his ardent admiration towards his creator. How would one have imagined the empire passing away sooner than unruly warlords, repeating the Roman history once more? How the glorious time of Barbarossa had passed away, grown dark under cover of night, as if it had never been.

The familiar Gregorian chant sounded, resonating in his heart; and he rested his head against the coffin, his legs remained unmoved. Eyes remained restless as he hummed to the chant from distant times in this godforsaken vigil night.

---

...Except, Ludwig was not dead. He was alive, clinging onto him, crying as if it was the first time of his life. His hand ruffled Ludwig’s hair and pet his back, as that was the only thing he could do to comfort Ludwig at the moment. He had no resource, and had only brought Ludwig more agony and suffering.

He was here to council, not to add extraneous burden into Ludwig’s mind. Standing up as Ludwig unwrapped his arms from him, part of Roderich wanted to reject the claim that the concealment of truth was to harm Ludwig, but he also realised that from Ludwig’s perspective, it was a very easy conclusion to come to. He expected a series of agonising questions, and indeed the power of words, especially churlish comments on certain deeds that one performed with kind intention, aching like a stabbed heart, but was still bearable.

What he could not bear, however, were the eerie silence, and how Ludwig considered this revelation as the direction consequence of his action done to him a few years ago, finding it insulting that he considered the official government stance chance to anti-Nazi status as Roderich’s personal move, and how Ludwig thought so lowly of him. Among all things, this should not be Ludwig’s concern for the moment.

Standing up and hunching forward, he looked directly at Ludwig in downcast eyes, both hands resting on Ludwig’s shoulder. Roderich was fairly certain that no matter what he said, Ludwig would find it abhorrent, but he still wanted the younger to hear every word of it.

“Look, Ludwig... look at me, I am of German blood as well. I might have appeared somewhat displeased before, but my people wholehearted support it, so did I, deeply within the desires. I should have been part of you long time ago. Do I look furious enough to mess you up? No, that is not my intent.” Yet he still managed to indirectly messed up the German's life more than twice. 

“If II have told you about your previous life as Holy Roman Empire from the very beginning, having you solely under my guidance, you might not be as strong as your potential to achieve, but you would certainly love me unconditionally, and you would be my Generalfeldmarschall instead of Gilbert’s.” The thought of replacing Gilbert in the current state gave Roderich a dry laugh, and he withdrew his hands and looked away wistfully. “The boy I have loved and served for almost millennium would continue to be my side - no need to annex me. Yes, that would have been truly beneficial for me...”

“...but I could not.” He couldn’t help but squeezing out a bittersweet smile as he walked away, mindlessly browsing through the pathetically small book collection that Ludwig had in the room. That was abysmal in comparison to the imperial library that was once their classrooms. How fast as time passed by - it felt like yesterday that they were tutor and tutee. “Do you remember the awfully few lessons we had specifically on the politics and structure of Holy Roman Empire?” His voice was as cold as his unwillingness to attach any emotion to the memories. “I taught no merits, only flaws, as if that empire should not have existed. I personally believe that if Heinrich were to repeat his life for the second time, I would rather see him not through the tragedies... four centuries of illness is enough, no need or more.”

Grimaced upon seeing a copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales on the shelf, he took the book out and flipping through the pages nonchalantly. “Your love for fairy tales and folklore during adolescence never ceased to surprise me - in a negative way. I kept worried about your curiosity in medieval German stories and legends leading to a revival of Holy Roman Empire.” He paused for a second and glanced at Ludwig in concern. “If I were to inform you about your past life at that moment - wouldn't you attempt to imitate? You were a child, and it was only natural for you to do so.”

“And as a child, everyone dreams. Free associations, fantasies, both symbolic and imaginary... These modern thoughts were not readily available centuries ago. Dreams were divine revelation or preoccupied thoughts, and in your case, we considered it a warning that you shall not repeat the past.” Roderich had nightmares as well, yet those were typically filled with dragons, mythical creatures hunting down children in the forests. The dreams disappeared over time, so he ended up not particularly concerned himself over nightmares in general. Another severe mistake he had committed. “If I were to tell you that nightmares you had were not imaginary, you could not feel optimistic about your future, or else progress would be dragged. Besides, we believed that those nightmares would disappear once you achieved your independence as a true, powerful empire... but it didn't.”

Noticing that Roderich appeared to be rude not facing Ludwig, he finally dropped the books and turned back, feeling much better after avoiding eye contact for a brief moment. “Heinrich... how magnificent he was when I could barely wield a sword effectively. He had such a determined desire and ambition to command others, though the initial political structure inhibited him from doing so, and gradually, to the point of no resurrection... I did not want you to repeat the frail path of life. Above all, you must be strong - diligent and intelligent to emerge as the new power.”

“The only reason why I knew you as Heinrich was due to the white Generalfeldmarschall uniform that I chose for burial, and I made up your name. Your look was so ordinary that other nations could not easily distinguish you from another school boy. The only consequence needed to worry about would be Francis Bonnefoy who would definitely use you as a political tool, but I successfully persuaded him before as well.”

“With previous experience, I thought I knew you well, and I wanted to fight for you, redesigning you, reorganising the power structure to make you possible as a successful German Empire....” And how incompetent Roderich was in persuading Ludwig to prefer him over Gilbert. The traditional land of Bohemia no longer appealed to the pure Germans, and he had almost lost all his favour when he insisted upon maintaining the traditional minorities that Heinrich used to own.

Roderich took a grave sigh. “You are not Heinrich, after all. You are Ludwig, of different soul but with the same body. The changes in your disposition easily convinced the other German princes that you are, at most, remotely related to Holy Roman Empire. I no longer know you well. The memories we- Heinrich and I had together disappeared in vain.”

“And- I lost to Gilbert.” Inevitably, that name had to be mentioned when the topic was related to the life and fate of Germany. He swallowed up some feelings, returning to the table where Ludwig sat at, and continuing, “Heinrich never grew into adolescence, as far as I remember. Occasionally I thought that my existence hindered Heinrich’s growth, and the hypothesis became more conspicuous when you grew magnificently after your unification. Regardless of my disdain for Gilbert’s preferences with warfare, I, nevertheless, was immensely glad to witness your true growth as a vigorously built man that you are today. From the day I asked you to address me as ‘Roderich’ instead of ‘Herr Edelstein’, I was prepared that one day, it would only be natural for me to follow your guidance and policies.”

Well, as Ostmark, Roderich swallowed the words after much thought, considering it not appropriate for this context. Hitler had given enough trouble for Ludwig - too much for him to handle. What exactly had Roderich done or thought to produce an anti-Semitic radical like Adolf Hitler - he did not have the slightest idea. Perhaps something twisted within him...

“My people and I are to blame for dragging you into two major wars that you should not have participated in... You deserve all rights to pity yourself. However, do not hold onto the guilt - you didn't pull the switch in the concentration camps, nor did you order your people to do so. It has never been Ludwig Beilschmidt’s fault. The people were conditioned to feel that their existence was being threatened by others, and their will to power pressured them to adapt to the current system created by the radicals... We have our human side as well, Ludwig, and once in a while we are all twisted. Even if you do not allow certain things, you cannot prevent it from happening.”

Roderich was not sure how much did Ludwig know about Gilbert’s current situation; probably around more or less than what he was allowed to know. Still, the best way to maintain Ludwig’s almost nonexistent optimism for the future was to ensure the younger that the brother he admired would do very well under Russian guidance - despite of Roderich imagining the opposite. The dissolution was still vivid in his mind, and he had to constantly remind himself that he needed to remain stronger than Ludwig - at least for now - to prevent the reversed situation of him being taken care of. Love and romance are trivial, unneeded sentiment in this matter...

“Your brother, Gilbert, is no exception. Although I have learnt from him that being vexatious could be advantageous at times. He is such a resilient and obnoxious man that he refuses to appear defeated and struggles to live on, no matter what it takes. And you should not blame him for withholding your past. Gilbert and Heinrich were in rather horrible terms due to religious and political conflicts, and I used that to threaten him keeping his mouth shut.”

He wouldn't have protected Gilbert’s image if it were a few decades ago, but he would need to so Ludwig would not collapse as easily. Anxiety of his lover’s safety built up even more, and before he got lost in the trails of memories and had his hard-earned expression deformed into sadness, he bit his lips and turned around.

The image of Ludwig and Heinrich began to morph together again. He took a deep breath and swallowed everything he was about to release. “I am sincerely sorry for withholding the information, betraying your trust. But I just could not tell you... I could not imagine myself telling you... Please, do not blame yourself or the others.”