Post by Lili Walser on Jun 7, 2011 23:08:23 GMT -5
((This was written for a friend's birthday... Octavius is the HRE.))
“GILBERT!”
The albino ran out of the piano room, laughing maniacally. He rather enjoyed making Roderich mad – and enjoyed it more for the fact that it made Elizaveta furious. His latest trick had been to hide himself behind the curtains in the music room, hold perfectly still, and wait until Roderich was in the middle of a waltz before jumping out and yelling loudly. The discordant notes had lingered in the air long enough for the Prussian to make his escape.
That is, until he ran smack into Elizaveta, wielding her trusty frying pan. “Gil… what did you do this time?” Her voice was resigned, rather than angry. This was interesting. He was about to answer when Roderich stormed up, fuming. “He interrupted my music.”
“I’ll take care of it, Roderich.” Elizaveta stepped forward, daring to place a hand on Roderich’s impeccable coat. He calmed down enough to send an almost smile in her direction. “Go. Go back to your music, Kedves. I’ll see Gilbert out.”
Hearing the Prussian sniggering behind her, Elizaveta swung out with her frying pan, coming within an inch of hitting him on the nose. The noise abruptly stopped.
“Danke, Elizaveta.” And with that, Roderich turned on his heel to march away.
“Liiiiizzzzz…”
“Don’t start with me, Gilbert.” The Hungarian whirled to face him, frying pan held menacingly close to his nose again. “Today of all days. Today, you had to go on your usual attention-hunting, trouble-making, music-interrupting vendetta against Roderich. Why today?”
He sucked in a breath, edging back away from the pan. “What’s so special about today, Lizzie?”
When she told him, he felt almost, but not quite, guilty. Maybe he should have remembered.
-
Back in the kitchen, Elizaveta sighed. She’d gotten Gilbert to go on one condition – that she save him some of whatever it was she made. Her only choice had been yes. She couldn’t refuse, and then have him stick around. That would go against all of her best laid plans.
“Veta?” A tiny voice piped up from somewhere around the vicinity of her knees. She glanced down, and smiled. “Feli.” And now she couldn’t even be properly annoyed. Feliciano would take it to mean that he’d done something wrong. “What is it, kicsi?”
“Mr. Edelstein seems like he’s in a bad mood. He’s playing Chopin again.” The child explained, twisting his fingers together. Elizaveta couldn’t help but to drop to her knees and pull him close in a hug. “He isn’t angry with you, kicsi. He’s angry because Gilbert interrupted him again.”
The child relaxed within her embrace. “Oh. Why does Mr. Beil… Beil…” “Just call him Gilbert, kicsi. It’s much easier.” “Why does Mr. Gilbert like to make Mr. Edelstein mad?”
The Hungarian resettled herself on the floor, the little Italian in her lap. Her back was pressed somewhat uncomfortably against the cabinetry, but for Feliciano, she could manage. “Let’s see.” She thought for a moment, then sighed. “I think, Feli, it’s because Gilbert is jealous that Mr. Edelstein has so many good things.” She hoped that the child would be content with this answer… honestly, she didn’t have time to go into the politics of the situation. Gilbert really didn’t like Roderich because Prussia and Austria didn’t get along – and so, Gil believed that Prussians and Austrians shouldn’t, either. It was a childish view of the world, but Gil was adamant he’d never change.
“Oh.” The Italian was quiet for a moment, then he shifted to look up at Elizaveta. “Were you going to cook? Can I help?”
“Igen. You may help, as long as the rest of your chores are done.”
-
In the music room, Roderich paced, unable to sit still for any longer at his piano. Gilbert had just had to come today of all days, hadn’t he? And right in the middle of Roderich’s composition for Elizaveta. Well… there was no reason he couldn’t serenade her on the violin, was there? Except that, well, he’d rather planned on her sitting next to him on the piano bench while he played. He liked having her there. It was cozy, the most pleasant sort of coziness he could imagine, short of sitting with her on the couch while she told stories to Feliciano and Octavius. He wondered what the children were doing… they’d best be staying out of trouble. But no bother. His biggest concern was getting this song right, and written, before tonight.
Finally, he managed to get himself under control enough to resettle himself on the piano bench. Rather than the harsh, angry notes of Chopin, a lighter, sweeter melody filled the air. And as they did, a thought took shape.
-
“Wow, Veta! This is so yummy!”
Elizaveta smiled, carefully arranging the Esterhazy torte on a plate. Once she had it to her liking, she took the remaining chocolate and began to decorate the white china with an elaborate pattern. To keep the child’s hands out of the torte, she’d given him a spoonful of the leftover batter. And to forestall any arguments later, she’d created a small torte for Gilbert, and saved a spoonful for Octavius.
“I’m glad you like it, Feli.”
Hearing footsteps stop at the doorway, Elizaveta smiled again. “Hello, Octavius. If you join us, I’ve got some torte you may have.” It took a minute for the sulking boy to join them, but when he had joined Feliciano on the counter, he soon forgot whatever it was that had driven him to sulk in the first place. That is, until Roderich walked into the kitchen. Immediately, the child’s scowl returned, and Feliciano hurriedly slipped off the counter. Roderich didn’t have eyes for either of the boys, however. His attention was focused on Elizaveta, with a smear of chocolate on one cheek and into her hair. He could only surmise that she’d forgotten her hands were dirty when she smoothed her hair back.
“Roderich?” She’d tilted her head, one hand on Feliciano’s head, the other on the counter beside Octavius. “Is everything all right, Kedves?” She questioned, then, softly, “Mosolyogj, drágám. Megijeszted a gyerekek.” It was good that she’d taught him Hungarian at the start of their marriage. Now, she had a language above the children’s heads with which to speak to him. Feliciano knew a few words, none of which could convey an entire thought. And Octavius knew a handful more, as he’d been there the entire time. She still wasn’t entirely sure how she’d managed to acquire two children, but she loved them both.
“Ja. Everything is fine.” Except that Octavius had interrupted him, again. Seeing the child’s glower, though, he resolved to settle it with him at a later time. With an effort, he lightened his expression. “What is it that you are making?”
“A surprise for you, Kedves.” The Hungarian’s voice was full of laughter. It couldn’t be but so much of a surprise… just like his gift for her wouldn’t be. They’d done something similar the past four years. However, he had something else up his sleeve, something special for their fifth anniversary.
-
He’d returned to the music room after being shooed out with a quick, chocolate flavored kiss. She’d had her fingers in the batter then, he supposed. He’d noticed the spoons in the hands of the children before the kitchen door had closed firmly in front of his nose, and lighthearted laughter had begun. It had taken him a moment, a moment in which he’d smiled fondly at the door, before he could turn and walk away.
However, back in the music room, he surveyed the musicians before him with no trace of that smile on his lips. “This must be perfect. Do you understand?” There could be no false notes, no timing mishaps. Not tonight, not when he was set to fulfill something she requested of him at every chance. “Just a dance, Kedves. That’s all I wish.” He’d never agreed. Dancing was something he was good at, yes – every gentleman worth anything was good at dancing. But dancing was something he just preferred not to do.
His afternoon was spent with those musicians, drilling them until every note was shaped to his liking. And then just once or twice more, to make sure nothing went wrong.
-
Her afternoon was spent entertaining children with stories, playing games of tag and hide and seek around the wing opposite the music room. She wanted the pair of boys so tired out that they’d go straight to bed tonight with no questions. And they, knowing her ulterior motive, were determined that they’d at least pretend to cooperate. After all, today was when she got dressed up in her prettiest dresses, and told the nicest stories, and gave them the sweetest cookies for dessert. It had to be special for some reason.
-
Candlelight lit the dining room, candlelight and mirrors reflecting candlelight. It was magical, Elizaveta thought, that the few servants could completely redecorate a room in hours. She’d tucked the boys into their beds half an hour ago, already dressed for dinner in her formal green gown. The usual flower she wore in her hair today had been replaced by a deep red rose, tucked into a neatly arranged coiffure.
Now all that remained was for her husband to join her. He wasn’t ever late for dinner. Especially this dinner. Five minutes, and then ten dragged by before she rose from her seat. Well, if nothing else, she knew where to find him. Her heels clicked softly on the wooden floor as she made her way through the halls to the music room.
“Come in, Liebe.”
She did as beckoned, and gasped softly. The entire room was bathed in moonlight, smothered in roses. His piano… where was his piano? And the instruments? And his music?
A soft note from a violin caught her attention. There were… others… playing his instruments. The lack of a piano still confused her, but at the sight of her husband, holding out his hand for her to join him in the middle of the floor, the thought flew out of her mind.
“Roderich…” It was all she could think to say, as she joined him. He just smiled. “Dance with me, Elizaveta.” He didn’t wait for an answer, for perhaps the first time in their entire marriage, before he took her hand and swept her into a gentle waltz. A waltz to his music, his composition, his song… the one he wrote, because this moment had to be perfect.
They danced in the moonlight, the full moon shining overhead through the skylight, surrounded by roses, to songs written by him. And neither had any attention for the three sets of inquisitive eyes that peered around the door. Two rather smaller than the third – but all three well satisfied with what they saw.
Five years, and they were still happy. Nothing, nothing could beat that.
(Translations:
Kedves – Dearest
Kicsi – Little one
Igen – Yes
Mosolyogj, drágám. Megijeszted a gyerekek – Smile, dear. You’re scaring the children.)
“GILBERT!”
The albino ran out of the piano room, laughing maniacally. He rather enjoyed making Roderich mad – and enjoyed it more for the fact that it made Elizaveta furious. His latest trick had been to hide himself behind the curtains in the music room, hold perfectly still, and wait until Roderich was in the middle of a waltz before jumping out and yelling loudly. The discordant notes had lingered in the air long enough for the Prussian to make his escape.
That is, until he ran smack into Elizaveta, wielding her trusty frying pan. “Gil… what did you do this time?” Her voice was resigned, rather than angry. This was interesting. He was about to answer when Roderich stormed up, fuming. “He interrupted my music.”
“I’ll take care of it, Roderich.” Elizaveta stepped forward, daring to place a hand on Roderich’s impeccable coat. He calmed down enough to send an almost smile in her direction. “Go. Go back to your music, Kedves. I’ll see Gilbert out.”
Hearing the Prussian sniggering behind her, Elizaveta swung out with her frying pan, coming within an inch of hitting him on the nose. The noise abruptly stopped.
“Danke, Elizaveta.” And with that, Roderich turned on his heel to march away.
“Liiiiizzzzz…”
“Don’t start with me, Gilbert.” The Hungarian whirled to face him, frying pan held menacingly close to his nose again. “Today of all days. Today, you had to go on your usual attention-hunting, trouble-making, music-interrupting vendetta against Roderich. Why today?”
He sucked in a breath, edging back away from the pan. “What’s so special about today, Lizzie?”
When she told him, he felt almost, but not quite, guilty. Maybe he should have remembered.
-
Back in the kitchen, Elizaveta sighed. She’d gotten Gilbert to go on one condition – that she save him some of whatever it was she made. Her only choice had been yes. She couldn’t refuse, and then have him stick around. That would go against all of her best laid plans.
“Veta?” A tiny voice piped up from somewhere around the vicinity of her knees. She glanced down, and smiled. “Feli.” And now she couldn’t even be properly annoyed. Feliciano would take it to mean that he’d done something wrong. “What is it, kicsi?”
“Mr. Edelstein seems like he’s in a bad mood. He’s playing Chopin again.” The child explained, twisting his fingers together. Elizaveta couldn’t help but to drop to her knees and pull him close in a hug. “He isn’t angry with you, kicsi. He’s angry because Gilbert interrupted him again.”
The child relaxed within her embrace. “Oh. Why does Mr. Beil… Beil…” “Just call him Gilbert, kicsi. It’s much easier.” “Why does Mr. Gilbert like to make Mr. Edelstein mad?”
The Hungarian resettled herself on the floor, the little Italian in her lap. Her back was pressed somewhat uncomfortably against the cabinetry, but for Feliciano, she could manage. “Let’s see.” She thought for a moment, then sighed. “I think, Feli, it’s because Gilbert is jealous that Mr. Edelstein has so many good things.” She hoped that the child would be content with this answer… honestly, she didn’t have time to go into the politics of the situation. Gilbert really didn’t like Roderich because Prussia and Austria didn’t get along – and so, Gil believed that Prussians and Austrians shouldn’t, either. It was a childish view of the world, but Gil was adamant he’d never change.
“Oh.” The Italian was quiet for a moment, then he shifted to look up at Elizaveta. “Were you going to cook? Can I help?”
“Igen. You may help, as long as the rest of your chores are done.”
-
In the music room, Roderich paced, unable to sit still for any longer at his piano. Gilbert had just had to come today of all days, hadn’t he? And right in the middle of Roderich’s composition for Elizaveta. Well… there was no reason he couldn’t serenade her on the violin, was there? Except that, well, he’d rather planned on her sitting next to him on the piano bench while he played. He liked having her there. It was cozy, the most pleasant sort of coziness he could imagine, short of sitting with her on the couch while she told stories to Feliciano and Octavius. He wondered what the children were doing… they’d best be staying out of trouble. But no bother. His biggest concern was getting this song right, and written, before tonight.
Finally, he managed to get himself under control enough to resettle himself on the piano bench. Rather than the harsh, angry notes of Chopin, a lighter, sweeter melody filled the air. And as they did, a thought took shape.
-
“Wow, Veta! This is so yummy!”
Elizaveta smiled, carefully arranging the Esterhazy torte on a plate. Once she had it to her liking, she took the remaining chocolate and began to decorate the white china with an elaborate pattern. To keep the child’s hands out of the torte, she’d given him a spoonful of the leftover batter. And to forestall any arguments later, she’d created a small torte for Gilbert, and saved a spoonful for Octavius.
“I’m glad you like it, Feli.”
Hearing footsteps stop at the doorway, Elizaveta smiled again. “Hello, Octavius. If you join us, I’ve got some torte you may have.” It took a minute for the sulking boy to join them, but when he had joined Feliciano on the counter, he soon forgot whatever it was that had driven him to sulk in the first place. That is, until Roderich walked into the kitchen. Immediately, the child’s scowl returned, and Feliciano hurriedly slipped off the counter. Roderich didn’t have eyes for either of the boys, however. His attention was focused on Elizaveta, with a smear of chocolate on one cheek and into her hair. He could only surmise that she’d forgotten her hands were dirty when she smoothed her hair back.
“Roderich?” She’d tilted her head, one hand on Feliciano’s head, the other on the counter beside Octavius. “Is everything all right, Kedves?” She questioned, then, softly, “Mosolyogj, drágám. Megijeszted a gyerekek.” It was good that she’d taught him Hungarian at the start of their marriage. Now, she had a language above the children’s heads with which to speak to him. Feliciano knew a few words, none of which could convey an entire thought. And Octavius knew a handful more, as he’d been there the entire time. She still wasn’t entirely sure how she’d managed to acquire two children, but she loved them both.
“Ja. Everything is fine.” Except that Octavius had interrupted him, again. Seeing the child’s glower, though, he resolved to settle it with him at a later time. With an effort, he lightened his expression. “What is it that you are making?”
“A surprise for you, Kedves.” The Hungarian’s voice was full of laughter. It couldn’t be but so much of a surprise… just like his gift for her wouldn’t be. They’d done something similar the past four years. However, he had something else up his sleeve, something special for their fifth anniversary.
-
He’d returned to the music room after being shooed out with a quick, chocolate flavored kiss. She’d had her fingers in the batter then, he supposed. He’d noticed the spoons in the hands of the children before the kitchen door had closed firmly in front of his nose, and lighthearted laughter had begun. It had taken him a moment, a moment in which he’d smiled fondly at the door, before he could turn and walk away.
However, back in the music room, he surveyed the musicians before him with no trace of that smile on his lips. “This must be perfect. Do you understand?” There could be no false notes, no timing mishaps. Not tonight, not when he was set to fulfill something she requested of him at every chance. “Just a dance, Kedves. That’s all I wish.” He’d never agreed. Dancing was something he was good at, yes – every gentleman worth anything was good at dancing. But dancing was something he just preferred not to do.
His afternoon was spent with those musicians, drilling them until every note was shaped to his liking. And then just once or twice more, to make sure nothing went wrong.
-
Her afternoon was spent entertaining children with stories, playing games of tag and hide and seek around the wing opposite the music room. She wanted the pair of boys so tired out that they’d go straight to bed tonight with no questions. And they, knowing her ulterior motive, were determined that they’d at least pretend to cooperate. After all, today was when she got dressed up in her prettiest dresses, and told the nicest stories, and gave them the sweetest cookies for dessert. It had to be special for some reason.
-
Candlelight lit the dining room, candlelight and mirrors reflecting candlelight. It was magical, Elizaveta thought, that the few servants could completely redecorate a room in hours. She’d tucked the boys into their beds half an hour ago, already dressed for dinner in her formal green gown. The usual flower she wore in her hair today had been replaced by a deep red rose, tucked into a neatly arranged coiffure.
Now all that remained was for her husband to join her. He wasn’t ever late for dinner. Especially this dinner. Five minutes, and then ten dragged by before she rose from her seat. Well, if nothing else, she knew where to find him. Her heels clicked softly on the wooden floor as she made her way through the halls to the music room.
“Come in, Liebe.”
She did as beckoned, and gasped softly. The entire room was bathed in moonlight, smothered in roses. His piano… where was his piano? And the instruments? And his music?
A soft note from a violin caught her attention. There were… others… playing his instruments. The lack of a piano still confused her, but at the sight of her husband, holding out his hand for her to join him in the middle of the floor, the thought flew out of her mind.
“Roderich…” It was all she could think to say, as she joined him. He just smiled. “Dance with me, Elizaveta.” He didn’t wait for an answer, for perhaps the first time in their entire marriage, before he took her hand and swept her into a gentle waltz. A waltz to his music, his composition, his song… the one he wrote, because this moment had to be perfect.
They danced in the moonlight, the full moon shining overhead through the skylight, surrounded by roses, to songs written by him. And neither had any attention for the three sets of inquisitive eyes that peered around the door. Two rather smaller than the third – but all three well satisfied with what they saw.
Five years, and they were still happy. Nothing, nothing could beat that.
(Translations:
Kedves – Dearest
Kicsi – Little one
Igen – Yes
Mosolyogj, drágám. Megijeszted a gyerekek – Smile, dear. You’re scaring the children.)