[APH][fic]They Were Once His
Author's Notes:
Read this, made huge amounts of liberties with it, and came up with the most unplanned, most unorganized, most incoherent fanfic I've probably ever made...
-----
They Were Once His
Roderich’s house was in chaos.
Not that it had never been an absolute mess before, especially after the two great wars. But he had just barely managed to set things right after he was finally left alone again. Now it seemed as if he had not made any progress at all.
People were everywhere. His once carefully kept gardens were filled with haphazardly set tents that ruined the manicured lawn. The hallways of his once seemingly empty house were filled to the brim with arms and limbs trying to find heat and comfort from the November cold. He could hardly play his piano anymore, as the music room was crowded, too. Even his own bedroom offered him no solace.
His original tenants were beginning to complain. Yet despite the fact that he could no longer support any more people, still they flock into his home seeking freedom and comfort. And he was not in any position to deny them what they sought.
After all, he had made a promise.
-----
Just a little over a year prior, Roderich was released from his house arrest by Alfred, Arthur, Francis, and Ivan. Immediately afterwards, Roderich has declared himself neutral forever. Never again would he participate in another argument between his neighbors.
Let others wage their wars. That was part of a creed that surrounded the governance of his house for years, so his decision wasn’t too difficult. If he had his way, he would still keep the entirety of that creed, but the part about him being happy and married just didn’t seem to strike a chord with his powerful neighbors, and so that had to be abandoned in favor of being left alone.
Still, the news of his new-found freedom and his neutrality was well accepted. Especially by his ex-wife, who was still under Ivan’s control.
“You’re lucky they’ve finally let you go,” Elizaveta had told him during one of their small private meetings. Just because they had separated, it had not meant that they could no longer be friends - something that he was grateful for, at least. “That makes me a little hopeful that Ivan is planning on letting me go soon, too. And when that happens, I think I’m going neutral like you. I’m done with all the fighting, Roderich. I just want to settle down peacefully.”
But that never happened. Instead, Ivan had tightened his hold on her. And knowing Elizaveta as Roderich did, this had not been a very good decision at all. It did not help that her best friend Feliks - who shared the same situation as her - was being rather difficult with Ivan as well.
The last time Roderich saw her was when they had managed to open a section of the fence that laid between their two properties. A small river passed through this area east of his land, and they spoke on top of the bridge that connected their lands together. “I’m going to kick Ivan out of my house,” she told him confidently. “Feliks was unsuccessful, but I think I have a better chance at it.”
“I thought you were tired of all this conflict?”
“I am. But this is a fight in my own land,” she reasoned, her clenched fists shaking in anger. “He killed my young, Roderich! They just wanted to ask Ivan if he could give me just a little space to breathe, and he killed them for it! I will not just simply stand around and do nothing!”
At that time, Roderich thought that Elizaveta’s chances of success were indeed better. After all, the whole of Europe was once afraid of her fighting prowess, and she had been able to defend him countless of times when they were still together. Still, he couldn’t help but advise her to be careful. “Don’t underestimate Ivan,” he cautioned. “We both know he can be pretty ruthless.”
Elizaveta frowned. “I’m just worried about the tenants who might get caught up in all the fighting,” she confessed.
“Then send them to me. I will take good care of them,” Roderich said.
“Are you sure? You’ve just managed to get back up on your feet again. Besides, you’re no longer supposed to interfere.”
He nodded his head firmly. “If I just simply keep this piece of land open, and let them come to me at their own accord, that’s hardly what you’d call interfering, right? Besides…
“…they’re my people, too.”
Her eyes widened at his statement.
Roderich then realized his mistake.
He was never able to tell if she had ever relished their married life in the not-too-distant past. She was one who had opted to separate from him, after all. Perhaps those memories of them being together were not at all as pleasant for her as they were to him - Roderich felt a pang in his heart as he thought of this. That was why discussing their former union was an unspoken taboo between them.
“I’m sorry.” he apologized softly.
“…no, it’s okay.”
Her reply was unexpected, but Roderich was more surprised to see a look of nostalgia crossing Elizaveta’s face. “You’re right. They were yours too, weren’t they?”
Roderich could only nod once again.
Elizaveta sighed, smiled, and stretched her arms above her head. “Well. That’s decided, then. I’ll just come and pick them up once I’ve gotten rid of him.”
“Please do.”
“I’m really sorry I’ll have to burden you with them. I promise, there wouldn’t be too much, and this really shouldn’t take too long…”
At the end of that day, she took out her flag, furiously ripped out the standard Ivan had placed on it, and marched off to confront her enemy.
In the meantime, he had gone back to his house to prepare for his expected “guests”.
-----
At first they arrived by the trickle. It seemed that Elizaveta managed to keep her promise and minimized the amount of people flowing in. Roderich did his best to entertain them while they waited for their chance to return home. He even offered what he could to them in their native language. After all, he was no stranger to it; like he had said, they were his people once.
He hasn’t heard anything from her directly, so Roderich tried to gather whatever information he could get about the property that was just next to his. When he heard of the truce that was finally arranged between Elizaveta and Ivan, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Then the retaliation came.
There was little Roderich could do as he watched Ivan march into Elizaveta’s house and destroy as much of it as he can. She never even had the chance to defend herself.
Soon, her tenants passed over the small bridge in droves, fleeing the wrath of Ivan’s anger. And he accepted them all without fail.
Still, his land - which had shrunk over the years - could no longer accommodate the growing number of refugees. Roderich knew that much as he walked through his hallways. His finances were dwindling, hygiene and living conditions were deteriorating, and despite his and his house governors’ best efforts, morale was decreasing and tensions were rising.
Yet he wouldn’t dare forcibly bring these people back to Elizaveta… and into Ivan’s waiting arms.
So he decided to call upon the only people whom he thought could help. Those western neighbors who claimed to carry the torch of liberty and freedom. He didn’t really want to do it - he still had his aristocrat pride, after all. But this was for her.
Roderich stopped short from his stride upon coming at that train of thought.
Yes, all of his efforts were for her. But were they really only for her?
Whatever his reasons may be, it was certainly conflicting with his supposed neutrality. But to hell with that.
Besides, as Roderich soon realized, his supposed non-neutral allies were more adamant in keeping themselves out of the conflict more than he did.
“We’ll send you some money to help with the finances,” Alfred told him over the phone. “But we can’t really get ourselves involved in this. Not with Ivan. Not with the way things are now. You understand, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t!” Roderich angrily replied before slamming the receiver down on him.
So he bore with his problems just a while longer.
-----
Perhaps it would have been better for him if his dilemma had prevented him from thinking about Elizaveta.
But the more the people crossed over the bridge - all going to his property, never the other way around - the more he worried about her.
Every time another tenant of hers asked for his assistance, his eyes asked a silent question, and all they could do was look back at him with anguished looks on their faces at the thought of their landlady.
There were times when he wanted to weep, but he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
There were enough people weeping in his house at night.
-----
Eventually, Roderich finally got his western neighbors to accept some of the refugees.
But this would hardly be of any comfort to him.
One day while making his rounds, he found a woman trying to lift a heavy box. Ever the gentleman, Roderich approached her.
“Jó reggelt,” he greeted in the woman’s language. “Good morning. Is there anything I can assist you with?”
“Ah, young master,” the woman said. “You’re a god-send. Would you be so kind as to help me move this to the kitchen?”
At that point, Roderich had grown familiar with some of the refugees in his house. That woman was one of them. “Why had you not sought your husband’s help?” he asked, grunting as he lifted the heavy load.
“Miklós was accepted and was taken to Belgium. He left just yesterday.”
“Belgium? Shouldn’t you have gone with him along with the children?”
The women stared at the ground. “Sadly, she only accepts males that are capable of working for her. The children and I don’t count.”
“What?! Then why choose Belgium? Why not seek help from Alfred? Surely he’ll accept the whole lot of you.”
“He did offer to take most of us in, but Little Péter did not pass Sir Alfred’s medical examinations, so he wanted us to leave him behind. Between sending only Miklós off to work, or the both of us leaving Péter behind, I’d say the former is a better option, don’t you think?”
It was a sound argument, but still that had not stopped Roderich from becoming completely livid towards his western neighbors once more.
“These people are refugees, not immigrants!” he roared at his supposed allies when the opportunity arose.
“Calm down, Roderich. You’ve been losing your temper over this for quite some time now… it’s not like you at all,” Francis commented in his carefree way. “We’re already giving you generous aid to support them at your place. By us going further and taking some of them off your hands, at be glad that we’re taking some of the pressure off your back, at the very least.”
“By selecting only those you feel are useful to you? By separating children from their parents, wives from their husbands?!” You haven’t changed at all!
“You have to understand that not everyone you accepted even counts as a refugee under existing terms,” Alfred defended. “So we have a right to deny entry to those whom we think violates this understanding.”
“Ah, yes. So according to your screening process, only those that do not have any missing toes or fingers count as refugees,” Roderich mocked.
Alfred squirmed in his seat.
Arthur, however, was a little bit more concerned than his companions were over Roderich’s behavior. “For someone who is supposed to be neutral, you seem to be too anxious over this,” Arthur said.
“Wouldn’t you be, if it was Alfred that was in trouble?” Roderich asked grimly. Surely, Arthur understood his situation. Surely, Arthur would still have some feelings for the man he once considered his brother.
Arthur cleared his throat uncomfortably. “We’ve just been receiving reports that some of Elizaveta’s tenants are plotting to bring her over to your property, perhaps permanently. We’d just like to remind you that by our previous agreement, you can no longer be with her.”
As if he would ever forget that they were the ones who offered - or perhaps coerced, as he desperately believed - Elizaveta the chance to separate from him.
“I have not heard of this, but I will have this looked into,” Roderich replied in a deadpan voice.
“Yes, please make sure you do. We wouldn’t want you to do the same contract violation as you did with Ludwig the last time…”
Roderich clenched his fists. Ludwig, who was seated nearby, openly frowned, but did not offer any comment.
Alfred grinned. “Well, back to the refugee problem, I think we can work some sort of agreement out,” he said cheerfully.
“What agreement?”
“Well… things had been really tight, and it’s been difficult to go to our eastern neighbors recently. It would really be beneficial if we could get some information about them so we could be better prepared for any future conflicts… if we could perhaps get some of Elizaveta’s tenants settling at your place to help us with this…?”
Roderich didn’t bother to stay around and hear what agreeing to that proposal would mean for him.
-----
He had just returned home from what he deemed as a disastrous meeting when one of his house governors hailed him.
“Young master, you have a visitor,” the messenger said.
His hopes rising a little, Roderich briskly made his way to the entrance of his house. Whom he saw there was someone he had least expected to see.
“You’ve got yourself into trouble again, Roderich,” Vash said unsympathetically.
Roderich glared at him.
“I’ve always told you not to associate yourself with Elizaveta. All your problems seem to heap whenever she’s involved.”
“Are you done making fun of me? Because I still have mouths to feed. Our friendly neighbors took away many of those who had once been capable of this task, after all.”
“Why do you insist on doing this? You can always close off your property from hers, stop the flow, and make things manageable again. And yet you still keep it open!”
“They need help. It’s as simple as that. Why can’t any of you understand that?!”
“Because we know that you’re not doing this for that simple reason alone. Roderich, can’t you see? She’s no longer your wife. She has left you a long time ago. Her people are no longer yours.”
Roderich furiously grabbed Vash’s arm and dragged him to his backyard, where many of Elizaveta’s former tenants dwelled. “See that man over there?” he said, pointing towards an old man helping to repair a house torn by the previous war; Roderich could not find any other place to settle him and his family in. “Drina. He fought in that conflict under mine and Elizaveta’s name. This man,” Roderich pointed to another individual. “He was at Isonzo. That woman over there. Her mother is a tenant of mine; her father Elizaveta’s. Forcibly separated after we did.”
He continued to point out many of the refugees and stated their connections with him. “Don’t you see?!” he argued in the end. “Elizaveta and I are no longer together. But our people are still connected! Just because her people were once mine… it does not mean that I should no longer care for them!”
Roderich calmed somewhat after his outburst.
“Alfred and the others… they once gave Elizaveta and her people a brief glimpse of freedom before Ivan had decided to take over completely. They didn’t do anything then. They’re still not doing anything now. Everyone has abandoned them. But I won’t.”
For a moment, Vash stared at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he snorted. “Tomorrow. 0800 hours. Prepare all of those who are tired of this dump and want to move out. I don’t care how many, or if they’re missing any toes or something. I’ll pick them up at that gate we share.”
Roderich was speechless.
“I’d also be careful if I were you. Ivan hasn’t been very happy with what you’re doing. He’s going to find a way to strike you next.”
“I’m neutral.”
Vash smirked. “No, I’m neutral. You’re not. Deny it all you want, but you’re still doing this for her, and that’s hardly neutral. We just didn’t expect you’d be doing it for your people as well.”
That night, Roderich played his piano to those who were willing to move to Vash’s property and were spending their last evening there.
His back was facing towards them, but they just needed to hear his music to know that tears were freely flowing down his cheeks.
-----
For the next few days, things have become easier for Roderich. He didn’t know if Alfred and the others were embarrassed by the fact that it was two supposedly neutral people who were making efforts to help Elizaveta’s beleaguered tenants instead of them who called themselves harbingers of freedom. But somehow, public opinion among the tenants of his western neighbors had swung to his favor, and they were now accepting more refugees than they used to.
Roderich saw off many of Elizaveta’s people at his western gates. Each time, he felt a little depressed - deep inside he had hoped that they would be able to walk back to Elizaveta. But that hardly seemed possible anytime soon, and his neighbors should be able to take better care of them than he ever could.
Besides, the flow has yet to stop from his eastern gate.
One day, as he was greeting yet another family who had crossed over, he suddenly saw a glimpse of Ivan at the other side.
Ivan was staring at him maliciously. Behind him were dead bodies; most likely those who had also tried to cross, but were caught before they had reached his property.
Roderich’s blood ran cold.
“You’re killing her, did you know that?” Ivan said. There wasn’t any malice in his voice - it was just his normal, cheerful tone that somehow sounded more dreadful than any voice Roderich has ever heard. “Every day, she grows weak each time she loses just even one of them to you.”
“She wouldn’t be losing them if they weren’t trying to flee from you,” Roderich replied defiantly.
“Strong words for such a weak person, Roderich. Now, would you do us a favor? We want you to stop stealing her people and selling them as slaves to those western dogs. In return, we might just leave you alone.”
“S-selling them as…?! I do no such thing!!”
“Elizaveta is very important to me, Roderich. I do so wish not to see her die. And unlike certain people, I have the power to protect her.”
Roderich gritted his teeth.
“So be a good neighbor and leave us alone. You’re supposed to be neutral, right? Step over the line once more, and I will see to it that you won’t ever be able to bother us again.”
Ivan had turned around to leave, but appears to have forgotten something. “Oh, one more thing,” he said, looking back at Roderich, his disarming smile still present on his face. “I don’t really think you’ll need this anymore.”
The next thing Roderich knew was darkness.
Only later did he learn, after he woke up, that he had blacked out due to being thrown off his feet by a blast that destroyed the bridge connecting his property to Elizaveta’s.
-----
Without one of his vital connections to Elizaveta, the flow of people ebbed, and it eventually came to a halt.
Roderich didn’t know if he should be grateful or not.
He was still busy trying to manage those who were able to escape over to his side. The absence of new faces made things much easier, as Vash had told him once. But the fact that nobody was passing through their gates anymore meant that what little news he did receive about Elizaveta’s condition had all but disappeared, since the source had been cut off.
Despite that, he lived for her people. Lived for his people.
They were his, until the time comes when she’s able to open her arms and they would willingly return to her, without Ivan ominously hovering behind their backs.
-----
It started as a trickle. Then it became a waterfall that filled Roderich’s study.
Hundreds of mails arrived daily from Elizaveta’s former tenants, who were now living in various different places - some even having settled down permanently with him. All the messages were addressed to him and his house governors. All of them were grateful for the assistance they were provided, despite not having the most satisfactory of living spaces during their initial stay.
Roderich found himself smiling a little more in private. Messages of thanks and praise from them were very rare indeed, especially considering how they used to argue and beat up his tenants in the past, and how he often found himself asking for their help instead of the other way around.
But what truly made him happy was a simple letter that Roderich found buried between all the “thank you” letters sent by a scattered population that shared the same origin:
Thank you so much.
I love you.
There were no names, and nobody could figure out who it came from, or how it got there.
But Roderich knew.
The collective consciousness of the people who sent the other letters where this one was buried in was once hers, after all.
Read this, made huge amounts of liberties with it, and came up with the most unplanned, most unorganized, most incoherent fanfic I've probably ever made...
-----
They Were Once His
Roderich’s house was in chaos.
Not that it had never been an absolute mess before, especially after the two great wars. But he had just barely managed to set things right after he was finally left alone again. Now it seemed as if he had not made any progress at all.
People were everywhere. His once carefully kept gardens were filled with haphazardly set tents that ruined the manicured lawn. The hallways of his once seemingly empty house were filled to the brim with arms and limbs trying to find heat and comfort from the November cold. He could hardly play his piano anymore, as the music room was crowded, too. Even his own bedroom offered him no solace.
His original tenants were beginning to complain. Yet despite the fact that he could no longer support any more people, still they flock into his home seeking freedom and comfort. And he was not in any position to deny them what they sought.
After all, he had made a promise.
-----
Just a little over a year prior, Roderich was released from his house arrest by Alfred, Arthur, Francis, and Ivan. Immediately afterwards, Roderich has declared himself neutral forever. Never again would he participate in another argument between his neighbors.
Let others wage their wars. That was part of a creed that surrounded the governance of his house for years, so his decision wasn’t too difficult. If he had his way, he would still keep the entirety of that creed, but the part about him being happy and married just didn’t seem to strike a chord with his powerful neighbors, and so that had to be abandoned in favor of being left alone.
Still, the news of his new-found freedom and his neutrality was well accepted. Especially by his ex-wife, who was still under Ivan’s control.
“You’re lucky they’ve finally let you go,” Elizaveta had told him during one of their small private meetings. Just because they had separated, it had not meant that they could no longer be friends - something that he was grateful for, at least. “That makes me a little hopeful that Ivan is planning on letting me go soon, too. And when that happens, I think I’m going neutral like you. I’m done with all the fighting, Roderich. I just want to settle down peacefully.”
But that never happened. Instead, Ivan had tightened his hold on her. And knowing Elizaveta as Roderich did, this had not been a very good decision at all. It did not help that her best friend Feliks - who shared the same situation as her - was being rather difficult with Ivan as well.
The last time Roderich saw her was when they had managed to open a section of the fence that laid between their two properties. A small river passed through this area east of his land, and they spoke on top of the bridge that connected their lands together. “I’m going to kick Ivan out of my house,” she told him confidently. “Feliks was unsuccessful, but I think I have a better chance at it.”
“I thought you were tired of all this conflict?”
“I am. But this is a fight in my own land,” she reasoned, her clenched fists shaking in anger. “He killed my young, Roderich! They just wanted to ask Ivan if he could give me just a little space to breathe, and he killed them for it! I will not just simply stand around and do nothing!”
At that time, Roderich thought that Elizaveta’s chances of success were indeed better. After all, the whole of Europe was once afraid of her fighting prowess, and she had been able to defend him countless of times when they were still together. Still, he couldn’t help but advise her to be careful. “Don’t underestimate Ivan,” he cautioned. “We both know he can be pretty ruthless.”
Elizaveta frowned. “I’m just worried about the tenants who might get caught up in all the fighting,” she confessed.
“Then send them to me. I will take good care of them,” Roderich said.
“Are you sure? You’ve just managed to get back up on your feet again. Besides, you’re no longer supposed to interfere.”
He nodded his head firmly. “If I just simply keep this piece of land open, and let them come to me at their own accord, that’s hardly what you’d call interfering, right? Besides…
“…they’re my people, too.”
Her eyes widened at his statement.
Roderich then realized his mistake.
He was never able to tell if she had ever relished their married life in the not-too-distant past. She was one who had opted to separate from him, after all. Perhaps those memories of them being together were not at all as pleasant for her as they were to him - Roderich felt a pang in his heart as he thought of this. That was why discussing their former union was an unspoken taboo between them.
“I’m sorry.” he apologized softly.
“…no, it’s okay.”
Her reply was unexpected, but Roderich was more surprised to see a look of nostalgia crossing Elizaveta’s face. “You’re right. They were yours too, weren’t they?”
Roderich could only nod once again.
Elizaveta sighed, smiled, and stretched her arms above her head. “Well. That’s decided, then. I’ll just come and pick them up once I’ve gotten rid of him.”
“Please do.”
“I’m really sorry I’ll have to burden you with them. I promise, there wouldn’t be too much, and this really shouldn’t take too long…”
At the end of that day, she took out her flag, furiously ripped out the standard Ivan had placed on it, and marched off to confront her enemy.
In the meantime, he had gone back to his house to prepare for his expected “guests”.
-----
At first they arrived by the trickle. It seemed that Elizaveta managed to keep her promise and minimized the amount of people flowing in. Roderich did his best to entertain them while they waited for their chance to return home. He even offered what he could to them in their native language. After all, he was no stranger to it; like he had said, they were his people once.
He hasn’t heard anything from her directly, so Roderich tried to gather whatever information he could get about the property that was just next to his. When he heard of the truce that was finally arranged between Elizaveta and Ivan, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Then the retaliation came.
There was little Roderich could do as he watched Ivan march into Elizaveta’s house and destroy as much of it as he can. She never even had the chance to defend herself.
Soon, her tenants passed over the small bridge in droves, fleeing the wrath of Ivan’s anger. And he accepted them all without fail.
Still, his land - which had shrunk over the years - could no longer accommodate the growing number of refugees. Roderich knew that much as he walked through his hallways. His finances were dwindling, hygiene and living conditions were deteriorating, and despite his and his house governors’ best efforts, morale was decreasing and tensions were rising.
Yet he wouldn’t dare forcibly bring these people back to Elizaveta… and into Ivan’s waiting arms.
So he decided to call upon the only people whom he thought could help. Those western neighbors who claimed to carry the torch of liberty and freedom. He didn’t really want to do it - he still had his aristocrat pride, after all. But this was for her.
Roderich stopped short from his stride upon coming at that train of thought.
Yes, all of his efforts were for her. But were they really only for her?
Whatever his reasons may be, it was certainly conflicting with his supposed neutrality. But to hell with that.
Besides, as Roderich soon realized, his supposed non-neutral allies were more adamant in keeping themselves out of the conflict more than he did.
“We’ll send you some money to help with the finances,” Alfred told him over the phone. “But we can’t really get ourselves involved in this. Not with Ivan. Not with the way things are now. You understand, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t!” Roderich angrily replied before slamming the receiver down on him.
So he bore with his problems just a while longer.
-----
Perhaps it would have been better for him if his dilemma had prevented him from thinking about Elizaveta.
But the more the people crossed over the bridge - all going to his property, never the other way around - the more he worried about her.
Every time another tenant of hers asked for his assistance, his eyes asked a silent question, and all they could do was look back at him with anguished looks on their faces at the thought of their landlady.
There were times when he wanted to weep, but he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
There were enough people weeping in his house at night.
-----
Eventually, Roderich finally got his western neighbors to accept some of the refugees.
But this would hardly be of any comfort to him.
One day while making his rounds, he found a woman trying to lift a heavy box. Ever the gentleman, Roderich approached her.
“Jó reggelt,” he greeted in the woman’s language. “Good morning. Is there anything I can assist you with?”
“Ah, young master,” the woman said. “You’re a god-send. Would you be so kind as to help me move this to the kitchen?”
At that point, Roderich had grown familiar with some of the refugees in his house. That woman was one of them. “Why had you not sought your husband’s help?” he asked, grunting as he lifted the heavy load.
“Miklós was accepted and was taken to Belgium. He left just yesterday.”
“Belgium? Shouldn’t you have gone with him along with the children?”
The women stared at the ground. “Sadly, she only accepts males that are capable of working for her. The children and I don’t count.”
“What?! Then why choose Belgium? Why not seek help from Alfred? Surely he’ll accept the whole lot of you.”
“He did offer to take most of us in, but Little Péter did not pass Sir Alfred’s medical examinations, so he wanted us to leave him behind. Between sending only Miklós off to work, or the both of us leaving Péter behind, I’d say the former is a better option, don’t you think?”
It was a sound argument, but still that had not stopped Roderich from becoming completely livid towards his western neighbors once more.
“These people are refugees, not immigrants!” he roared at his supposed allies when the opportunity arose.
“Calm down, Roderich. You’ve been losing your temper over this for quite some time now… it’s not like you at all,” Francis commented in his carefree way. “We’re already giving you generous aid to support them at your place. By us going further and taking some of them off your hands, at be glad that we’re taking some of the pressure off your back, at the very least.”
“By selecting only those you feel are useful to you? By separating children from their parents, wives from their husbands?!” You haven’t changed at all!
“You have to understand that not everyone you accepted even counts as a refugee under existing terms,” Alfred defended. “So we have a right to deny entry to those whom we think violates this understanding.”
“Ah, yes. So according to your screening process, only those that do not have any missing toes or fingers count as refugees,” Roderich mocked.
Alfred squirmed in his seat.
Arthur, however, was a little bit more concerned than his companions were over Roderich’s behavior. “For someone who is supposed to be neutral, you seem to be too anxious over this,” Arthur said.
“Wouldn’t you be, if it was Alfred that was in trouble?” Roderich asked grimly. Surely, Arthur understood his situation. Surely, Arthur would still have some feelings for the man he once considered his brother.
Arthur cleared his throat uncomfortably. “We’ve just been receiving reports that some of Elizaveta’s tenants are plotting to bring her over to your property, perhaps permanently. We’d just like to remind you that by our previous agreement, you can no longer be with her.”
As if he would ever forget that they were the ones who offered - or perhaps coerced, as he desperately believed - Elizaveta the chance to separate from him.
“I have not heard of this, but I will have this looked into,” Roderich replied in a deadpan voice.
“Yes, please make sure you do. We wouldn’t want you to do the same contract violation as you did with Ludwig the last time…”
Roderich clenched his fists. Ludwig, who was seated nearby, openly frowned, but did not offer any comment.
Alfred grinned. “Well, back to the refugee problem, I think we can work some sort of agreement out,” he said cheerfully.
“What agreement?”
“Well… things had been really tight, and it’s been difficult to go to our eastern neighbors recently. It would really be beneficial if we could get some information about them so we could be better prepared for any future conflicts… if we could perhaps get some of Elizaveta’s tenants settling at your place to help us with this…?”
Roderich didn’t bother to stay around and hear what agreeing to that proposal would mean for him.
-----
He had just returned home from what he deemed as a disastrous meeting when one of his house governors hailed him.
“Young master, you have a visitor,” the messenger said.
His hopes rising a little, Roderich briskly made his way to the entrance of his house. Whom he saw there was someone he had least expected to see.
“You’ve got yourself into trouble again, Roderich,” Vash said unsympathetically.
Roderich glared at him.
“I’ve always told you not to associate yourself with Elizaveta. All your problems seem to heap whenever she’s involved.”
“Are you done making fun of me? Because I still have mouths to feed. Our friendly neighbors took away many of those who had once been capable of this task, after all.”
“Why do you insist on doing this? You can always close off your property from hers, stop the flow, and make things manageable again. And yet you still keep it open!”
“They need help. It’s as simple as that. Why can’t any of you understand that?!”
“Because we know that you’re not doing this for that simple reason alone. Roderich, can’t you see? She’s no longer your wife. She has left you a long time ago. Her people are no longer yours.”
Roderich furiously grabbed Vash’s arm and dragged him to his backyard, where many of Elizaveta’s former tenants dwelled. “See that man over there?” he said, pointing towards an old man helping to repair a house torn by the previous war; Roderich could not find any other place to settle him and his family in. “Drina. He fought in that conflict under mine and Elizaveta’s name. This man,” Roderich pointed to another individual. “He was at Isonzo. That woman over there. Her mother is a tenant of mine; her father Elizaveta’s. Forcibly separated after we did.”
He continued to point out many of the refugees and stated their connections with him. “Don’t you see?!” he argued in the end. “Elizaveta and I are no longer together. But our people are still connected! Just because her people were once mine… it does not mean that I should no longer care for them!”
Roderich calmed somewhat after his outburst.
“Alfred and the others… they once gave Elizaveta and her people a brief glimpse of freedom before Ivan had decided to take over completely. They didn’t do anything then. They’re still not doing anything now. Everyone has abandoned them. But I won’t.”
For a moment, Vash stared at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he snorted. “Tomorrow. 0800 hours. Prepare all of those who are tired of this dump and want to move out. I don’t care how many, or if they’re missing any toes or something. I’ll pick them up at that gate we share.”
Roderich was speechless.
“I’d also be careful if I were you. Ivan hasn’t been very happy with what you’re doing. He’s going to find a way to strike you next.”
“I’m neutral.”
Vash smirked. “No, I’m neutral. You’re not. Deny it all you want, but you’re still doing this for her, and that’s hardly neutral. We just didn’t expect you’d be doing it for your people as well.”
That night, Roderich played his piano to those who were willing to move to Vash’s property and were spending their last evening there.
His back was facing towards them, but they just needed to hear his music to know that tears were freely flowing down his cheeks.
-----
For the next few days, things have become easier for Roderich. He didn’t know if Alfred and the others were embarrassed by the fact that it was two supposedly neutral people who were making efforts to help Elizaveta’s beleaguered tenants instead of them who called themselves harbingers of freedom. But somehow, public opinion among the tenants of his western neighbors had swung to his favor, and they were now accepting more refugees than they used to.
Roderich saw off many of Elizaveta’s people at his western gates. Each time, he felt a little depressed - deep inside he had hoped that they would be able to walk back to Elizaveta. But that hardly seemed possible anytime soon, and his neighbors should be able to take better care of them than he ever could.
Besides, the flow has yet to stop from his eastern gate.
One day, as he was greeting yet another family who had crossed over, he suddenly saw a glimpse of Ivan at the other side.
Ivan was staring at him maliciously. Behind him were dead bodies; most likely those who had also tried to cross, but were caught before they had reached his property.
Roderich’s blood ran cold.
“You’re killing her, did you know that?” Ivan said. There wasn’t any malice in his voice - it was just his normal, cheerful tone that somehow sounded more dreadful than any voice Roderich has ever heard. “Every day, she grows weak each time she loses just even one of them to you.”
“She wouldn’t be losing them if they weren’t trying to flee from you,” Roderich replied defiantly.
“Strong words for such a weak person, Roderich. Now, would you do us a favor? We want you to stop stealing her people and selling them as slaves to those western dogs. In return, we might just leave you alone.”
“S-selling them as…?! I do no such thing!!”
“Elizaveta is very important to me, Roderich. I do so wish not to see her die. And unlike certain people, I have the power to protect her.”
Roderich gritted his teeth.
“So be a good neighbor and leave us alone. You’re supposed to be neutral, right? Step over the line once more, and I will see to it that you won’t ever be able to bother us again.”
Ivan had turned around to leave, but appears to have forgotten something. “Oh, one more thing,” he said, looking back at Roderich, his disarming smile still present on his face. “I don’t really think you’ll need this anymore.”
The next thing Roderich knew was darkness.
Only later did he learn, after he woke up, that he had blacked out due to being thrown off his feet by a blast that destroyed the bridge connecting his property to Elizaveta’s.
-----
Without one of his vital connections to Elizaveta, the flow of people ebbed, and it eventually came to a halt.
Roderich didn’t know if he should be grateful or not.
He was still busy trying to manage those who were able to escape over to his side. The absence of new faces made things much easier, as Vash had told him once. But the fact that nobody was passing through their gates anymore meant that what little news he did receive about Elizaveta’s condition had all but disappeared, since the source had been cut off.
Despite that, he lived for her people. Lived for his people.
They were his, until the time comes when she’s able to open her arms and they would willingly return to her, without Ivan ominously hovering behind their backs.
-----
It started as a trickle. Then it became a waterfall that filled Roderich’s study.
Hundreds of mails arrived daily from Elizaveta’s former tenants, who were now living in various different places - some even having settled down permanently with him. All the messages were addressed to him and his house governors. All of them were grateful for the assistance they were provided, despite not having the most satisfactory of living spaces during their initial stay.
Roderich found himself smiling a little more in private. Messages of thanks and praise from them were very rare indeed, especially considering how they used to argue and beat up his tenants in the past, and how he often found himself asking for their help instead of the other way around.
But what truly made him happy was a simple letter that Roderich found buried between all the “thank you” letters sent by a scattered population that shared the same origin:
Thank you so much.
I love you.
There were no names, and nobody could figure out who it came from, or how it got there.
But Roderich knew.
The collective consciousness of the people who sent the other letters where this one was buried in was once hers, after all.