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Post by Germany on Dec 31, 2010 1:27:49 GMT -5
It was warming the way Lithuania’s green eyes sparkled to life with gratitude, the way he seemed to thaw under the warmth and softness of the blanket. He was still a long way away from good spirits, but the gift nonetheless seemed to improve his mood and take his mind off of dying Jews and treacherous, murderous Lithuanians. At least, for the moment.
Ludwig was relieved to hear that he had both ingredients. Toris may not have touched anything in his cupboard, but after so many weeks away from home it was hard to remember what exactly what was in there and how much. He hovered near the arm of the settee for a few extra seconds, waiting for Toris’s request, and when it became apparent that the other man wasn’t going to make one he headed off into the kitchen, set his hat down in a corner of the counter, and washed out his mug.
Turned out, he had two full bottles of rum, both never opened, and an almost-new tin of powderized cocoa mix. But his teakettle was fairly small, and after he and Toris had taken their tea there wasn’t quite enough water left for even one mug of hot chocolate. And what if Toris changed his mind?
Best to make extra just in case.
After he had put on a fresh kettle and laid out the ingredients nearby, he returned to the living room. He intended to retake his seat in the armchair, but Toris’s unexpected words froze him in the threshold.
Wars couldn’t last forever, he said. Something had to give sooner or later, and when it did things would change. However, his voice hung damp and despondent in the air, his doubts and uncertainties bare for anyone to see. Either he didn’t believe what he was saying, or he strongly suspected, as Ludwig did, that the worst was yet to come.
He then went off on how he wished he weren’t so weak and helpless, and the Nazi let him continue uninterrupted, passing in front of him like a heavy shadow and dropping back into his armchair.
“But no. I think that's the worst part. There's nothing I can do.”
Acceptance was setting in. Toris’s voice was much calmer than it had been minutes ago. Eerily calmer. He was staring sadly into the fire now, and Ludwig joined him, his expression somber and detached as he listened quietly and attentively to his servant’s deepest disappointments and fears.
There was that profession of love for Russia again, which was neither healthy nor sane, but at least this time the Baltic seemed more aware of that. He admitted that living under Ivan’s thumb for so long had made him less able to take care of himself, drained his strength to the point where it would be hard to recover.
That’s why you fight like hell to avoid occupation, Ludwig thought, even though he knew that Lithuania’s first big slip-up that had ultimately led to his serial-occupation by other nations might not necessarily have been his fault. Sometimes the enemy was simply too superior in too many ways, and even in a more favorable match all it took was one bad boss and a careless or ineffective government to screw things up royally. Even great powers weren’t immune to poor leadership — he was proof of that.
Looking now at the small, pallid, half-frozen body tucked tightly under the blanket, its owner pausing in his thoughts to wipe away the tears rolling down his gloomy face, it was hard to imagine that he had once been stronger. Toris always exuded an aura of timidity and vulnerability; physically he looked fragile as a cardhouse, and in spite of his nationhood Ludwig still sometimes found himself wondering how he had survived all that he had. Yet he knew from the tales of others and history books that Toris had once been a force to be reckoned with, a power worthy of respect. In the fifteenth century he had been the largest country in Europe: even the conquest-hungry Mongols and Russia’s predecessors had been virtually unable to touch his land or do him much harm.
All that had changed.
Now he was a scrawny, emaciated, depressed, slightly-unhinged, overly emotional, perpetually-frightened servant who rarely got to set foot in his own house and got shuttled between masters like a prize workhorse.
Degrading.
Humiliating.
A fate worse than death.
Death…Toris was afraid of that, too.
“Realistically, whether I end up incorporated into the Soviet Union, or whether it's the Third Reich, the outcome will eventually be the same. You know what happens to countries when they stop being countries.”
Yes. Ludwig’s eyes shut lightly as a butterfly coming to rest. He didn’t like thinking about that. False death was bad enough, but true death…there was no coming back from that.
A fresh wave of sorrow broke upon him; he may not hold Toris in the highest esteem, but he didn’t want to see him die. Ideally, he’d just hold on to the Baltic forever without absorbing him, the Lithuanians remaining culturally distinct with just enough national identity for the spirit of their country to survive.
But he had little-to-no control over whether or not that happened — it was all up to his boss and the rest of the German high command.
So much power, but unable to do anything…
A flickering red darkness filled his vision, as though the fire were burning through his eyelids. He felt Toris’s eyes on him.
“It wouldn't be so bad, you know. Any of it. I can cope with living like this…”
Ludwig opened his eyes, tilted his head, and looked at Toris. The brunette continued talking, forlorn and dejected. The prospect of his own impending death was something he could live with, morbid and depressing as it was, but not being able to help his people — that was gutting him from the inside out. He loved his people as much as Ludwig loved his. They were like children to him, and he now he couldn’t even visit them, let alone fight alongside them.
“I love them desperately...the ones that are dying, and the ones who are doing the killing...all of them. Is that so awful?”
No. Ludwig didn’t entirely grasp how Toris could love those Lithuanians of his who were killing their neighbors and giving him a bad name, but being a nation himself he well understood the connection between a nation and its people. The link must be exceptionally strong in Toris’s case. His inherent personality probably helped with that.
“You once told me, a few years ago, that conquering me was scarcely worth the effort. Sometimes, I can see why you said that.”
Ludwig was silent and unmoving for a moment, his face returned to the ashen humorlessness of before, when he had been reflecting on all he had learned, witnessed, and done in the past week.
“It’s true,” he said seriously, “as far as countries go, you’re not very strong or influential. You can’t help your people. All you can do is ride it out and hope that the war ends quickly. If I win I’ll probably end up killing you in the near future, whether I want to or not. My boss would rather make all the territory I conquer part of me and Germanize everyone than deal with servant nations, and he’ll force his ideals onto everyone else’s people just as he did mine. Any of your people that can’t escape will be forced to either convert or make a convincing show of converting. They’ll be treated as second-class citizens.” He looked back into the leaping flames. The room was heating up quickly, as was his body. Within the next few minutes he’d be taking his coat off.
“If the Allies win you won’t be much better off, but your Jews will be safer and you’ll probably live longer. Maybe. I can’t say for sure, if half the things I’ve heard about Stalin are true. Either way, at least death is the worst that can happen to you. And if you die you won’t be around to worry about it.”
It was darker now: Ludwig glanced out the window on his left to see the sun halfway sunken behind the hills, red as a pool of blood eddying beneath an old wound that wouldn’t heal. It reminded him of the gates of Hell, and he hastily turned away, focusing his attention back on his servant instead.
“I tried to help them, you know.” His voice was uncharacteristically quiet — almost a whisper — and full of tender sorrow. His eyes fell before Toris’s. “The Jews. A few days ago I went to my boss and tried to get him to at least stop the mass-killings, to improve the conditions in the ghettos even fractionally.” He drew in a deep breath and shook his head. “I was unsuccessful. In fact, I only made things worse. When Hitler heard what I wanted he flew into a rage and called me an ungrateful traitor. Insisted that my Jews were poisoning my mind as well as my body. It only made him more determined to ramp up the killings in order to ‘cure’ me. I…” he grimaced, regretting the words even before they left his mouth, but nonetheless feeling a strange air of relief once they were out, “I made the mistake of arguing with him. It got ugly.”
All at once and without warning, all the emotion he’d been keeping bottled up burst out of him like a river exploding through a damn; his face hardened, his jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists. Water began welling furiously in the corners of his eyes. “If only I hadn’t called him an Austrian!” he cried out angrily, his head snapping up forcefully, the light in the room revealing the wild, desperate despair swirling over his face like a sudden storm, “I think that was the straw that tipped him over. He hates that. If I hadn’t maybe my punishment wouldn’t have been so severe, maybe he wouldn’t have made me — ” he stopped, deeply ashamed in every way possible, but especially by the hot tears spilling down his cheeks.
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Post by Lithuania on Jan 3, 2011 6:05:16 GMT -5
Toris eventually looked up, his blank gaze regaining some focus as Ludwig spoke.
“It’s true.”
He didn't react to the insulting statement, his pride long since shattered. Germany was being honest and there was something darkly comforting about that, despite his words being so bleak.
“...as far as countries go, you’re not very strong or influential. You can’t help your people. All you can do is ride it out and hope that the war ends quickly.”
He nodded fractionally, miserably allowing Ludwig to take stock of the situation in his uniquely blunt, pragmatic way. A part of Toris desperately wanted the blonde to lie to him, to sugar coat it the way that Ivan would sometimes, to ask him in a breezy voice why he was being so silly and dramatic when everything was fine really. But no, this was better, surely.
“If I win I’ll probably end up killing you in the near future, whether I want to or not.”
The words made his blood run cold. Death was something he'd contemplated often, but the reality of its upcoming prospect was almost impossible to imagine. He couldn't bear the thought of his children, orphaned and alone, their national identity and life and customs and religion all being swallowed up into another culture. The idea that it would be Ludwig who would end his life was a suddenly strange one. He'd always imagined that Russia would do it, accidentally, while taking one step too far in his insane crusade to have everyone become one with him.
“My boss would rather make all the territory I conquer part of me and Germanize everyone than deal with servant nations, and he’ll force his ideals onto everyone else’s people just as he did mine. Any of your people that can’t escape will be forced to either convert or make a convincing show of converting. They’ll be treated as second-class citizens.”
Toris shrank back on the couch and wrapped his arms around himself as if to protect him from the physical pain caused by Ludwig's words. If he'd possessed the energy, he might have wept openly, but there was no fight left in him and cold tears simply trickled passively down his cheeks.
“Either way, at least death is the worst that can happen to you. And if you die you won’t be around to worry about it.”
Toris wasn't sure if his German master was right in that respect. If Ludwig thought that death was the worst thing that could happen to a nation, then he'd obviously lived a fairly charmed life. But then...perhaps the other nation was just emotionally stronger. Perhaps, for him, survival for survival's sake was enough comfort to pull him through.
He was about to speak, was floundering for the words which might even begin to address such a monumental subject as the eradication of an entire country, but then Ludwig was continuing, quietly and urgently as though suddenly he had something that he had to get off his chest, come Hell or high water.
“I tried to help them, you know.”
Who? My people...? Toris looked up sharply as Ludwig spoke of going to his boss and trying to talk sense into him. What little he knew of Hitler told Lithuania that this story was likely not going to end well. And true to form, Ludwig relayed how the little man had been unwilling to listen, how Germany's pleas had fallen on deaf ears, how Hitler had said so many of the same things to Ludwig as Stalin had to Vanya. The target group for persecution was different, but the mechanism was still always so very much the same.
He looked at the tall blonde sadly, shaking his head.
“If only I hadn’t called him an Austrian!”
Toris jumped in fright as the other nation suddenly cried out in an anguished tone, his composure snapping. He was stunned to see the look of unadulterated anguish on Ludwig's face, and more stunned still to watch tears fall from his eyes.
“I think that was the straw that tipped him over. He hates that. If I hadn’t maybe my punishment wouldn’t have been so severe, maybe he wouldn’t have made me — ”
The German stopped abruptly and Toris stared mutely, wide eyed as he watched the rivers of salt water spill down the taller nation's flushed face. There was something so very heartbreaking about the sight of such an ordinarily composed man crying openly. It was a testament to how utterly hopeless everything was.
He looked so much younger then, without the cold veneer of authority he always projected, and Toris felt a sudden protective instinct well up in his chest. He stared with morbid curiosity and wondered just exactly what Hitler had done to him. It can't have been something as simple as a beating, or there was no way it could have brought Germany to tears. He was struck with the realisation that something genuinely, hideously wrong had happened.
Swinging his legs over the side of the couch and discarding his blanket with a little shiver, he made his way softly across the room to where Ludwig stood in tears. He never had been able to stand watching someone else cry...it always tugged at his heart in the worst way imaginable. Laying a hand on his forearm, he looked up solemnly at the blonde and fixed him with the tiniest, saddest smile.
“It's alright,” he murmured in that quiet, soothing, slightly sorrowful and almost maternal tone which came so naturally to him now. He clasped one of Ludwig's hands in his and squeezed it lightly, resisting the urge to put his arms around the famously austere nation and pull him into the tight hug that he so clearly needed.
“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,” Toris said gently, reaching up and laying the ghost of a comforting touch on Ludwig's shoulder, shy and uncertain. “But you don't have to be ashamed. Whatever he did...or forced you into...it's not your fault. I'm sure you were trying to help.”
----------------- AN: I decided to switch Toris' speech colour, but only for threads with Ludwig. Since they're both so similar.
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Post by Germany on Jan 9, 2011 5:52:10 GMT -5
A/N: Just to warn you in advance, this post is very dark, depressing and emotionally-charged. I depersonalized my flashback and made it pretty vague, both because I thought it fit the mood/flow of Ludwig’s thoughts and because I didn’t want to be TOO over-the-top depressing, but I think it’s still obvious what happened. It’s not something he’s saying aloud, but I can change it if you want all the same. I figured that short of the death of a loved one only something monumentally terrible could make Ludwig cry — he’s normally very strong mentally.
Also….I think that teakettle should be whistling soon. xD You can pick a point in your post, if you want, or I can have it happen in my next. I don’t care either way. I almost put it in this one, but I couldn’t find a way to make it fit and flow with everything else. [/i] ________________________________________________ His sudden outburst spooked Toris: the Lithuanian gave a little jump and stared at him with wide eyes, as though he could not believe what he was seeing. Ludwig jerked his face away swiftly and wiped at his eyes with the cool sleeve of his trenchcoat, shame emanating from him. He can’t see me like this! He couldn’t believe he was doing this, that he was actually crying He hadn’t cried in decades, since the death of his human friend. Even then he had only shed a few a silent tears in private. Always in private. But this time, no matter how he commanded them to stop, the tears would not. They were mad with freedom and kept slipping out of his eyes one after another, an embarrassing, humiliating, downright emasculating salty torrent that sank into the material of his coat. He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to hold them inside. There they were again, cowering in the blackness. Crying. Pleading. “Please! Please don’t!” “I’m sorry. ”“How could you do this to us?! You KNOW me!” Another voice, smaller than all the rest. “Why do you hate us?” “I don’t hate you. I never did.”“Then why don’t you let us go?”“I would if I could. But I can’t. You wouldn’t understand. Hold real still and I promise to be swift and merciful.”“We’ll run away! No one will ever know! God, Ludwig, please! You’re not like them! You’re better than this!”It was useless. The vision was a memory, and it always ended the same way. At first, Germany had fought back against it with most of his might and will, but the magic was stronger than any nation. It always had been, and it always would be. Each second he delayed his body became less and less his own. His answer had not come in the form of words, but an action which had caused them to scatter and flee, consumed with terror. Three or four seconds. That was all the head-start he’d been able to give them before his legs had given chase. His eyes had gone where they’d needed to go. His hands had moved, but he hadn’t been the one moving them. His fingers had betrayed him. Unable to do anything but carry out his boss’s order, he’d surrendered to the force controlling him. The moment he’d done that he’d regained control of his body, but he had still been no more free than if the magic were still doing the driving. They’d never stood a chance. A small figure emerged in the darkness, and Ludwig’s heart jumped up into his throat and broke. This was no memory. You didn’t fight with all your will. The seven words cut his soul like a rain of razors. For the first time ever he began to sob. It wasn’t a lusty, noisy sob, but rather quiet and restrained, punctuated by breaths drawn in too sharply and exhaled before their time. “It's alright,” At some point Toris had gotten up and approached him, and now he was giving his hand a gentle squeeze, his skin cool and delicate to the touch. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,”The words were as soft and tender as the hand which came up to rest on his shoulder. Ludwig’s eyes opened in silent wonder. After all he had just said, after all he had done, could it be that Toris was trying to soothe him? When he next spoke, there was no mistaking the sadness and caring in the brunette’s voice. “But you don't have to be ashamed. Whatever he did...or forced you into...it's not your fault. I'm sure you were trying to help.” Ludwig wiped his eyes dry on the sleeve of his coat and looked up, no longer sobbing, but teetering on the verge of a relapse. At the look of empathy and concern on the other man’s face he tried to muster up a confident, in-control expression, but it came out half-hearted and obviously farce. “But it is my fault,” he protested, a strange helplessness to his tone, “I should have known better than to try to reason with him like that. I knew the man was insane and unreasonable. I knew how much he hated the Jews. I knew he had a long history of not listening to anyone — including me. Yet I still tried like a damned fool. I had the best intentions, Toris. But those intentions made everything so much worse for me and everyone I was trying to help. It would have been better if I had kept my mouth shut and went back to the front.” His eyes fell miserably to the floor, two silent, renegade tears running down his cheeks. “He made me do something evil,” he continued slowly, uncertainly. He was normally hesitant to use the word ‘evil’, as it was so subjective, but in this case it was the perfect description of his actions. “I didn’t want to. I fought it. But I didn’t — couldn’t — fight with all my will. I know that wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, but still…” he trailed off. “The Nazis are darkening my soul,” he said suddenly, as though it had just come to him, “I can feel them changing me. Sometimes I get these impulses. They’re getting harder to shake off. If…” he looked up at Toris, and the shadow of fear flew across his eyes. Very gently, seemingly by accident, the hand under Toris’s turned and grasped some of the Lithuanian’s digits. “…if things keep going this way, if Hitler and his government keep brainwashing all the humanity out of my people, I’ll become just as ruthless and cold-hearted as the rest of the SS. That’s how it works, isn’t it? We reflect our people. I can’t reflect ideals that are no longer there.”
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Post by Lithuania on Jan 10, 2011 17:12:07 GMT -5
Jesus...
“I had the best intentions, Toris...”
There was a desperate helplessness in Ludwig's tone which made his chest tighten painfully. There was far too much of that particular emotion in the world just now, it seemed. Toris had lived for centuries...but he could honestly put his hand on his heart and say that he had never known atrocities like the ones which were plaguing Europe just now. The world seemed to be falling apart.
Toris didn't know what Hitler had made the blonde nation do, but he could well imagine that it involved some form of participation in the Nazi's atrocious genocide.
“I can feel them changing me. Sometimes I get these impulses. They’re getting harder to shake off...”
Worriedly, he fixed Ludwig with a startled stare, just as the other man clasped Toris' fingers in his own. He squeezed the German's hand gently, watching the two silent tears trickle down his face as he continued to speak.
“...I’ll become just as ruthless and cold-hearted as the rest of the SS. That’s how it works, isn’t it? We reflect our people. I can’t reflect ideals that are no longer there.”
At this Toris shook his head firmly and took Ludwig's hand in both of his, holding onto it insistently as he stared up at the taller nation.
“It doesn't work that way, Ludwig. Not completely.” He continued to shake his head. “Our people influence us, our national sentiments colour our emotions, our thoughts...but we're not just a hollow walking reflection of current popular thinking. We both have years and years of history behind us that give us our own character.” He reached up and put one hand flat against Ludwig's chest, smiling sadly. “You have so much goodness behind you. You've lived your own life and you've shaped your personality from what you've seen of the world over hundreds of years. A brief, cruel flash in your history is not going to turn you into a monster. And you're not just Germany, you're Ludwig too. You like dogs, and you secretly like to bake brownies, and you're awkward around kids and you love your big brother and you have a soft spot for Italy and a hundred and one other traits which make you an individual in your own right.”
His voice was quiet and urgent and insistent. “Your people might win the war, Hitler might spread his hateful ideals, you might even conquer Europe and you might end up killing me. But I think that, even if that all happens...and it will hurt you desperately and it will cast a dark shadow over the whole world...but you won't really lose who you are, not if you hold on hard enough. There will always be good people, in every country. And you don't have to embody all of their mistakes, because human beings are young, and haphazard, and foolish and they can hurt each other arbitrarily, out of fear and spite and selfishness, and they always have and always will...but you have so many more years of wisdom behind you.”
He smiled again, and this time the young, effeminate nation manage to almost put up a convincing show of not being entirely heartbroken, managed to force some kind of hope that he didn't really feel into his thin, haunted expression. “Look at even me. Objectively, I'm in a really bad state, physically and mentally. But I'm still Toris. I still care and I haven't given up on the world yet. I haven't lost sight of the things that make me me...not really...even underneath everything else. And I'm not nearly as strong as you are.” He gave Ludwig's hand another squeeze. “So neither will you, no matter what happens.”
He was about to go on, when the kettle whistled, and he let go of Ludwig's hand abruptly, the shrill noise causing him to jump nervously and take a step back. “Ahh..I'm sorry! Please sit down. I'll make your...um...the...” he paused, wincing at his own stomach ache and staring with a moment's blank unhappiness at the floor for a few seconds as he fought to recollect his thoughts. “Um...was it cocoa you wanted, sir, or something else?”
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Post by Germany on Jan 14, 2011 7:11:00 GMT -5
Toris didn’t agree. He shook his head firmly, and his other hand joined his first, taking one of Ludwig’s hands in both of his and squeezing it gently as though he were trying to warm it. His hands were a little colder than the German’s, but Ludwig didn’t mind. His touch was a comfort, and right now any type of comfort was more than welcome.
“It doesn't work that way, Ludwig. Not completely.”
It doesn’t?
Hope blossomed anew.
Ludwig listened intently as the other country explained that their kind were more than just walking reflections of the majority’s thoughts and actions.
I know that, he thought, a bit of anxiety shadowing the fragile spark of hope that had emerged, but still…
To his surprise, Toris pressed a palm flat against his chest.
“You have so much goodness behind you.”
I do? Ludwig’s awe was childlike. Yet at the same time, he recognized the truth to the statement. For all the bad he had done, either voluntarily or involuntarily, he had done a lot of good too. He had very likely saved Rivka’s children from an early death, and for better or for worse he still possessed enough ethics and morals to prevent him from feeling indifferent to human suffering, or, worse, delighting in it. That was something.
“You've lived your own life and you've shaped your personality from what you've seen of the world over hundreds of years.”
Hundreds of years? He blinked, reminded again of the fact that, compared to Lithuania, he was practically a baby.
He listened quietly as the brunette listed just a few of the personality traits that made him him — briefly he wondered how the other man knew he was awkward around children, although he supposed it wouldn’t take a master detective to figure that out — and how those made him unique and resistant to whatever changes his people might work up inside him.
The idea that his individuality would buffer him against losing what humanity and scruples he possessed gladdened him, and hearing it from a country so much older than himself was reassuring. That his boss’s true believers were darkening his soul was real — and indeed, the cruel thoughts that flashed through his mind were coming more frequently and getting harder to suppress — but Lithuania had been alive much longer and experienced so much more than he had, and he would know what he was talking about.
Right?
But then Toris continued speaking, and his spirits sank like a rock at the prospect of Hitler’s hatred spreading, having to kill Toris, and the effect these would have on him.
“...but you won't really lose who you are, not if you hold on hard enough.”
Not if I hold on hard enough…that’s all I can do, hold on?
Perhaps that was it then: he couldn’t vanquish the dark thoughts and feelings that jumped through his mind and tried to gain control of it. As long as Hitler’s followers continued to hold the views they held and commit genocide, the essence of their thoughts and actions would burn strong within him. Strong enough to flare up and try to overpower him, to change his character. But if held on tightly to who he was — everything that made him Ludwig and not just that which made him Germany — then he wouldn’t lose himself, wouldn’t turn into an indifferent or cold-hearted murderer. He couldn’t beat the darkness, but he could keep it from beating him.
Was that was Toris was trying to say?
It has to be. But is it true?
This much was certain: Toris was either speaking sincerely, or else making one hell of a good show of it for his benefit.
For the moment, at least, Ludwig decided he must be telling the truth. It was obvious that the Lithuanian was trying to comfort him, either out of fear, true empathy, or a mixture of both, but there was something so genuine about the way he was speaking: his voice was the sincere voice of the heart.
Toris’s sad smile persisted, and for some reason right then Ludwig felt another warm wave pass over him. “Look at even me. Objectively, I'm in a really bad state, physically and mentally. But I'm still Toris. I still care and I haven't given up on the world yet. I haven't lost sight of the things that make me me...not really...even underneath everything else. And I'm not nearly as strong as you are.”
True.
“So neither will you, no matter what happens.”
The ghost of relief emerged on Ludwig’s face, only to be torn apart seconds later by the realization that he didn’t know for sure that Lithuania’s personality hadn’t changed: he hadn’t known the Baltic long. For all he knew, Toris could have had a completely different personality hundreds of years ago, back when he was strong. It could have resembled America’s, or Japan’s, or hell, even Prussia’s. Perhaps Toris had gotten so used to the change brought on by his citizens getting progressively more spineless that he had forgotten that he had ever been anything else.
He was just about to address this concern when the teakettle screamed.
Toris leapt back at once, the socks startled off him.
Though none of his outward appearances so much as hinted at it, Ludwig thought the nervous reaction was kind of cute, pathetic as it was. It reminded him a bit of Feliciano and how he was never ready for anything either.
At some point during Toris’s little speech he’d stopped crying, and now he hastily wiped the last remnants of tears from his eyes and jumped up, only to have Toris to politely offer his services. Problem was, the green-eyed nation couldn’t seem to remember what he wanted. “Um...was it cocoa you wanted, sir, or something else?”
“Cocoa with rum,” Ludwig rushed past him. “Thanks, but I can get it. I like it a certain way.”
The ‘thanks’ slipped out without his thinking; unless it was in mocking, he made it a point never to thank nations which he had just conquered and was currently occupying/dominating for anything. Doing so implied equality, and he hated being viewed as anything less than superior in the eyes of his servants/slaves/defeated enemies. But he had a lot on his mind, and with the ear-piercing whistle also distracting him he never caught it.
Reaching the teakettle, he moved it off the burner and turned the flame off. He then proceeded to make his drink as carefully as if he were mixing chemicals, measuring just the right amount of cocoa out of the tin and mixing it with a fair amount of rum, stirring carefully with a teaspoon before adding water and stirring some more.
“There’s enough water for both of us, Toris, if you want more tea or anything else that needs it.” he called out in what he hoped was an inviting tone, not particularly caring whether the other nation took him up on the offer but wanting him to know he was welcome to it.
When his cocoa was ready he carried it back into the living room and set it down on one of the end-tables while he undid his trenchcoat, exposing the green uniform beneath. The fire was doing a marvelous job heating the place up, and with his excellent circulation he was starting to get a bit too warm. Once it was off, he took the coat over to the coat-rack next to the door and hung it up. Then he snatched up his mug and returned to his original seat near the fire.
“I hope you’re right,” he said after a moment, thoughtful “I don’t ever want to reach the point where I enjoy murdering innocent people. Or…and I think this would be worse…where I look at them and feel nothing.” He stared down into his cocoa. “I want to believe you — that if I just hold on tightly to my human self I’ll never be changed by the majority views of my nation self. But I don’t know if I can…I haven’t got hundreds of years of experience to draw from like you seem to think. I’m only seventy years old.” There was a brief pause as he did some mental math. “Seventy-five, actually, if you count the time I spent as the North German Confederation. Prussia says I was born in the summer of 1866.” He shook his head. “There are plenty of humans older than me out there. You say you’ve been through so much without having your personality changed — how do I know you just don’t remember it being changed? You were strong once. Respected. No offense, but it’s hard to imagine that you had the same personality then as you do now.”
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Post by Lithuania on Jan 16, 2011 14:18:17 GMT -5
If Toris had been a bolder nation, he might have arched an eyebrow at Ludwig's use of the word “thanks”. He couldn't recall having ever heard the word leave his lips before. But as it was, he looked at the floor and tactfully ignored it, letting him get what he wanted from the kitchen.
“There’s enough water for both of us, Toris, if you want more tea or anything else that needs it.”
In truth, he would have loved more tea. Despite the heat from the fire, he was still freezing cold, and a hot drink was a source of warmth that the room did not provide. But his voice faltered in his throat, and he only just managed to squeak out that he was all right, thank you very much.
As Ludwig returned and took his coat off, he remained standing in the same spot, looking at the taller nation curiously as he sat down and spoke.
“I don’t know if I can…I haven’t got hundreds of years of experience to draw from like you seem to think. I’m only seventy years old.”
Ahh...how could I forget?! Somewhere along the line of his little speech, he'd forgotten that Ludwig was nowhere near as old as himself, or Feliks or Ivan or Gilbert. His cheeks darkened slightly at his mistake and he bit his lip.
“You say you’ve been through so much without having your personality changed — how do I know you just don’t remember it being changed? You were strong once. Respected. No offense, but it’s hard to imagine that you had the same personality then as you do now.”
Normally, when a person started a statement with “no offence”, their intention was generally exactly the opposite. But he was aware that Ludwig was simply being blunt and honest, and Toris was long since past the point in his life when he still cared about petty pride.
You're right,” he said levelly, sighing and looking at the flames dancing in the hearth. “I'm not as strong as I was, and I suppose to you, it must be really hard to imagine that Feliks and I were once the dominant force in Eastern Europe. But you know...back then the world was a really different place. When Feliks and I joined forces, Ivan was just this lost little kid, and so many of you weren't born yet. Even Poland and I were really just naive teenagers at the time, trying to keep your brother at bay so that we could keep holding onto this lovely, bright little world that we'd made for ourselves.”
He struggled with the memory for a moment, a distant recollection of rye fields and laughter and freedom and that invincible feeling he'd had when he was so very young and everything was so much more hopeful. “It's true that everyone is going to change over hundreds of years, especially if you've had the experiences that I have, with Ivan's mental health deteriorating and with being subjugated for centuries. I was never an aggressive person, never someone who was Hell-bent on conquest. I was always peaceful, I always preferred cooking and farming and living quietly and taking care of others. When the time came, I fought in battle with everything I had, but I was only so fierce because I was fighting to protect my children. I never delighted in it. And at the time, I was stronger, I had land and resources and a powerful ally in Poland, so I wasn't as easily conquered as I am now and that made me more confident. But you saw how I was when you first came to drag me from my house...I still put up all the fight I had, even then. It just...wasn't so effective.”
He cleared his throat and ran a hand tiredly through his brown hair. “I think that my time in the sun is long over. I'm exhausted and I'm frail and my nerves are shot and I'm in so much pain, and I have moments where I'm so utterly terrified of the smallest things. But I know that I'm still me. I'm...not at my best right now, but I haven't lost the fundamentals that I always had. I still believe the same things I always did. I've managed to keep my language alive, to keep my religion going even in the face of Soviet regime, to still have a land full of children who continue to proudly call themselves Lithuanian. And even though I'm starting to lose all of that now, it's really only been in the last few decades that things have been taking a turn for the horrific. In the early days with Ivan, once I'd swallowed my pride and stopped risking my people's lives with doomed rebellions, I actually had moments where I was quite happy to be under his roof. Being conquered isn't nice...it's humiliating and it stings painfully, but it isn't the worst thing in the world either, not if you know that your people are relatively protected, and if the person you're living with...”
...is your lover? There was a lump in his throat and he swayed a little on his feet and eventually succumbed to his own rising exhaustion and sat down next to Ludwig. Grabbing the blanket that the other man had given him, he wrapped it around his shoulders with a shiver, shaking his head.
“I think the only thing that I'm so very scared of it what will happen to my children. I don't think I want to leave them all alone now, when they're so misguided and full of hate. But you never know how things will turn out. I've already been wiped off the map once before, when the Commonwealth was partitioned, and I still managed to hold on, just and no more. I'm not as resilient now as I was, but you never know, right?” He shook his head again, in a way that plainly said that he didn't believe in his own professed optimism for a single moment.
“I'm going off at a tangent, aren't I, sir?” he laughed sadly. “You'll have to forgive the ramblings of an old man.” He smiled apologetically, unaware of how incongruous that statement was, given how young and frail and child-like and lost he looked and sounded.
He looked at Ludwig solemnly. “And you know, seventy really isn't such a small number. You still have enough years behind you to hold onto some wisdom and to have established your moral tenets. I don't think you'll ever become so callous, or such a monster. And even people like Ivan, who do just kill and hurt for fun now, aren't so irredeemable, not by a long way. And you have so much more in you before you reach that state. Just don't let things fall by the wayside...because things are really going to get rough over the next few years.” He looked at Ludwig, a flicker of desperation crossing his ghostly pale features, swallowing hard as he recalled all-too-vividly how he'd watched Russia lose his mind and become all the things that Germany himself was now terrified of becoming.
“Just don't fall into the trap of thinking that it would hurt less if you didn't care any more.”
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Post by Germany on Jan 21, 2011 23:54:19 GMT -5
Ludwig sat straight in his chair, thoughtfully sipping at his drink as Toris began his explanation.
“You’re right,” the brunette started out honestly, “I'm not as strong as I was, and I suppose to you, it must be really hard to imagine that Feliks and I were once the dominant force in Eastern Europe. But you know...back then the world was a really different place.”
That I have no doubt. Times really did change, didn’t they? Toris was right: it was extremely hard from him to envision a Europe dominated by Toris and Feliks, though he knew it to be fact. The world would have had to have been different back then, and the nations too.
He let Toris continue uninterrupted. The Lithuanian spoke of seeing child Ivan and teaming up with Feliks against Gilbert, of being naïve and trying to hold on to the golden years. His voice seemed more ancient then; it echoed with the centuries, with nostalgia of good times past and lessons learned.
“It's true that everyone is going to change over hundreds of years, especially if you've had the experiences that I have, with Ivan's mental health deteriorating and with being subjugated for centuries.”
I suppose that’s true. Perhaps the change in Toris’s personality was primarily the result of his experiences as an individual rather than the changes that had occurred in the mindframe of his population over the years. Perhaps — just perhaps — current popular thinking among a nation’s citizens didn’t affect that nation’s personality as strongly as Ludwig had thought. It seemed that way all the more so when he thought of his brother, Prussia, and how, even though right now he was a mere shadow of himself politically and in the minds of the German people, he was still the same old Gilbert Beilschmidt deep down. Despite the fall and decline of the group that had led to his birth, he still retained the personality that had been seared into him upon his very creation. The changes that centuries of experiencing everything life had to offer — including all the good and bad extremes — had not affected the basic template; they had merely modified it slightly. At least, that was how it seemed to Germany, who could never remember even hearing of his brother being much different personality-wise.
The thought brought a level of comfort that he had rarely known.
“I was never an aggressive person, never someone who was Hell-bent on conquest…” Toris continued the story of how he had never liked war and had only fought when he had to to protect his children. He was peaceful by nature, preferring a quiet, boring life at home cooking and farming like an old man or a housewife to the thrill and violence of war and conquest. He had fought Ludwig on that fateful day in hopes of preserving this kind of a lifestyle for himself, and to keep his people free from oppression.
It was a little sad; Lithuania had given his best to remain independent, and his best hadn’t been good enough. Not in the face of a powerhungry younger and stronger foe hellbent on conquering as much land as possible to use for his own ends. Thinking about it sent a twinge of guilt through Ludwig: he felt a little like the Big Bad Wolf.
But only a little.
The land, extra labor, and resources were a big help to his people, and a testament to his might. The weak were exploited by the strong. That was the way of things. Conquer or be conquered. Kill or be killed. Survival of the fittest. Toris had failed to adapt, to adequately defend himself and keep up with the times. Whether it was through any fault of his own or not, he was paying the price all weak things paid when —
“I think that my time in the sun is long over. I'm exhausted and I'm frail and my nerves are shot and I'm in so much pain, and I have moments where I'm so utterly terrified of the smallest things. But I know that I'm still me. I'm...not at my best right now, but I haven't lost the fundamentals that I always had. I still believe the same things I always did. I've managed to keep my language alive, to keep my religion going even in the face of Soviet regime, to still have a land full of children who continue to proudly call themselves Lithuanian.”
All Ludwig’s Darwinian thoughts went straight out the window. So strange; he had barely felt all of Toris’s struggling and feeble attempts at physically fighting back on that day when he had first gone over his house and dragged him out of it, but the words he had just spoken…they impaled his heart like a wicked sword.
It was so sad. And depressing.
“In the early days with Ivan, once I'd swallowed my pride and stopped risking my people's lives with doomed rebellions, I actually had moments where I was quite happy to be under his roof.”
What?! How could you be? Then he remembered. Oh. Right. You were in love with the sadistic maniac.
“Being conquered isn't nice...it's humiliating and it stings painfully, but it isn't the worst thing in the world either, not if you know that your people are relatively protected, and if the person you're living with...”
As much as he detested the idea of being conquered above all else — indeed, he couldn’t stand the idea of being pressed under the thumb of another nation, of being humiliated on the level Lithuania had — Germany agreed there. The safety and well-being of his citizens would always come first with him. Even now when they were disappointing, saddening, and frightening him like never before, Germany still cared about his people as a whole. Better for him to be conquered and enslaved than for them and their culture to die just so he personally could go out with a shred of dignity and pride.
The last statement took him a little by surprise, and he waited with a slightly-raised eyebrow for Toris to elaborate, but he didn’t. Instead he swayed a little on his feet before sinking down on the settee next to Ludwig, wrapping himself tightly in his blanket and shaking his head.
There was a strong note of anxiety in his voice as he admitted his fear of dying and leaving his “children” alone to fend for themselves, especially now when Europe had become such a scary place full of hatred, suffering, misery, persecution, and death. He was holding on for their sake, mostly. And for a moment he tried to be optimistic, but then he shook his head, immediately giving himself away. He had no more faith in his continued existence than Ludwig did.
“I'm going off at a tangent, aren't I, sir?” There was no real joy in his laughter. “You'll have to forgive the ramblings of an old man.”
Ludwig blinked, taken aback for a moment by how absurd that sounded coming from the mouth of someone who appeared the same age as himself — 19 or 20 years old.
But appearances could be so very, very deceiving.
With an old, solemn look in his eyes, Toris informed Ludwig that he was old enough to have become entrenched in his moral convictions and personality, reassured him that they would not drastically change to match the current trend of his people.
For the first time, Ludwig gave in to wholeheartedly believing him. His argument was too sound, his life-experience credentials more than good enough despite his mental issues where Ivan and pain were concerned, and everything he said matched up with what Ludwig knew of his older brother, who was probably every bit as old as Lithuania, or at least somewhere near to it.
Relief swept over him, its touch warm and comforting.
But then Toris said something which tore most of it away. “ Just don't let things fall by the wayside...because things are really going to get rough over the next few years…don't fall into the trap of thinking that it would hurt less if you didn't care any more.”
“I won’t,” he promised, “I do care. I’ve been punished severely for it, and…” he winced at the sincerity in his voice, “…a part of me wishes I didn’t care, because it would hurt less. But I can’t help it. It’s part of who I am: a good, shining part of me that I feel extremely protective of and don’t ever want to lose, even when I can’t fully explain why.” He looked pensively into the fire.
“You know, back when I was little, I wanted so much to be the good guy — an awesome white knight like Prussia who vanquished evil and protected the good and innocent. Then I lost my own innocence, and I can barely remember those days now. The world didn’t work the way I thought it did. It was far more complex with blurry morality and subjective labels. What’s good, what’s evil — it all depends on who you ask. I enjoy warfare and conquest. To me it’s the ultimate high-stakes contest for land, resources and power in which only the strongest survive and prosper. It’s also a good way to get revenge on those who deserve it. But that doesn’t mean I like suffering or cruelty.” He turned and looked Toris straight in the eye, sorrow and weariness worrying his normally austere features. “I don’t want you to die, Toris. I never did. Most of the countries under my rule right now…I just want to dominate them. Alright. Enslave and exploit them. It’s my boss that wants to wipe them out.” An awkward lump rose in his throat, and he swallowed past it. “With you…with you it’s a little different. I like having you under my control, but…”
Why am I admitting this?!
Surprising himself, he shook his head and looked away, his cheeks heating faintly with tightly-controlled embarrassment. “Nevermind.”
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Post by Lithuania on Jan 26, 2011 5:09:43 GMT -5
“...I can’t help it. It’s part of who I am: a good, shining part of me that I feel extremely protective of and don’t ever want to lose, even when I can’t fully explain why.”
Toris nodded as Ludwig spoke, feeling a tiny, inexplicable spark of pride for the younger nation. He tried not to raise an eyebrow as he spoke about his “awesome white knight” brother. Centuries might have passed, but Lithuania was still very firmly of the belief that Prussia had been nothing of the sort. More of a petty criminal who rampaged through Europe and sought to force everyone into submission under a banner of zealous extremism and religious hypocrisy. But he suspected that Ludwig probably didn't want to hear about Toris' low opinion of his brother's “knighthood”.
After all, as the German was saying, morality could be so very subjective.
“...I enjoy warfare and conquest. To me it’s the ultimate high-stakes contest for land, resources and power in which only the strongest survive and prosper. It’s also a good way to get revenge on those who deserve it. But that doesn’t mean I like suffering or cruelty.”
Toris remained calm as he listened to Ludwig's justifications for conquest. He found it hard to blame the other nation. After all, who didn't want to be strong, to have land and resources and power. Even the petite brunette sometimes thought back wistfully to the days when he'd been a ruling nation. It felt good, to be at the top, to feel all of that power energising you, to know that your children were the most prosperous, the most happy. He couldn't blame Ludwig at all for wanting that.
““I don’t want you to die, Toris. I never did. Most of the countries under my rule right now…I just want to dominate them. Alright. Enslave and exploit them. It’s my boss that wants to wipe them out.”
The Lithuanian looked directly at Ludwig with a half-startled expression as the conversation suddenly took an unexpected turn. The raw emotion and honest in the other man's tone took him aback and he bit his lip, trying his best to look as reassuring as a person can be when hearing about the prospect of their own death at that other person's hands.
“With you…with you it’s a little different. I like having you under my control, but…”
Ludwig trailed off then, and Toris waited expectantly for the next sentence. But what...?
But the German simply dismissed himself, suddenly embarrassed, a faint blush on his cheeks. Toris looked at him with wide, curious eyes. It was hard to fathom what the blonde had been about to say. What was different? There was a long awkward silence, as Toris waited for Ludwig to somehow finish his sentence, and when it didn't happen, the brunette eventually ventured a few words.
“I...don't quite follow. But it's all right.” He smiled faintly. “I understand that you're not cruel, and I understand that you're not responsible for your boss' actions. And I hope that you understand that if things go...” He baulked slightly at the reality of the situation. “...um...wrong in the future, and if I'm not around to tell you this, then you should know that I won't blame you personally, Ludwig.”
He looked back at the fire and drew his knees up to his chest. Although he still felt dreadful, the warmth of the room was gradually starting to creep into his bones and it was a welcome sensation. “There's no shame in seeing the human side of the countries you conquer,” he said quietly. “It doesn't make you weak. If anything, it's small things like that which might stop you from losing your own humanity, somewhere along the line.”
The petite brunette looked over at the Nazi opposite him. “I like you, Ludwig,” he stated simply. “I don't like the fact that you've taken my freedom away, and I don't like what your boss is doing to my people, but I can see a lot of good in you, taking all of that out of the equation. This isn't a good situation for me, but I don't resent you for it. I even don't mind taking care of your house for you.” He sighed. “There are a lot of things which upset me and disturb me at the moment, but my lack of animosity towards my captor is not one of them. Maybe I should be a little less passive, but if we're talking on a personal level...then you dragged me out of that kitchen when you could have just as easily left me behind, and then you took care of me when you could have easily just locked me in a cell somewhere and left me to heal the painful way. You could have made unreasonable demands, you could have taken out your frustrations on me, you could have made my life miserable, but you didn't. And maybe that's a sign that years with Ivan has lowered my standards...” he laughed softly, and then looked instantly apologetic. “But regardless. It meant a lot to me.”
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Post by Germany on Feb 1, 2011 23:12:06 GMT -5
His head still turned away, Ludwig peeked at Toris out of his peripheral.
Not surprisingly, his almost-confession had gotten the smaller country curious. He was staring at him with big, curious eyes that held a childlike innocence. Ludwig could almost hear him saying ‘But what?’
“I...don't quite follow. But it's all right.”
Simultaneously relieved and, paradoxically, a little disappointed, the German faced Toris once more, the faint blush that had tinted his cheeks fading away. After the shitty way the evening had started it was nice to see Toris smile, even faintly. He had nothing to smile about; that he was able to do it at all was nothing short of inspirational.
“I understand that you're not cruel, and I understand that you're not responsible for your boss' actions.”
Hearing that always felt good, but it was doubly effective out of the mouth of a nation he was oppressing. Of course, he doubted very much that Toris would say such kind things to him if he knew that his ‘I don’t want to kill the nations I conquer’ mantra didn’t apply to Poland and Russia, but the little Baltic didn’t need to know about that, now did he?
“And I hope that you understand that if things go...”
Toris flinched, and Ludwig immediately knew where this was headed.
“...um...wrong in the future, and if I'm not around to tell you this, then you should know that I won't blame you personally, Ludwig.”
Ludwig nodded slightly, appreciation evident in the depths of his eyes, but not his face. It was an extremely morbid subject, but one he had to man up and face. Toris might die. Even if he was lucky enough not to be directly ordered to do it — most bosses knew that other heads of state also controlled the spirits of their respective countries and Hitler was no exception — he still was more than capable of killing him indirectly through his people Germanizing Lithuania’s to the point where everything that made them culturally distinct started to go away. Knowing that the long-lived little brunette wouldn’t blame him personally made the pill that much harder to swallow.
Toris was calmly staring off at the fire now, his knees drawn up to his chest, his expression curiously unreadable.
Sipping on his rum-laced hot chocolate, Ludwig listened as he insisted that compassion wasn’t something shameful and wouldn’t make him weak, but rather a strength that would keep his humanity alive. Those caring green eye looked back at him, and the Nazi was knocked for seen by the next words to leave his mouth.
“I like you, Ludwig.”
You…like me? His mind flashed back to his first meeting with Feliciano, how the Italian had been quick to so freely and honestly express his emotions as he felt them. Toris had just echoed him word for word, and the feeling was strange, but it was a pleasant strangeness.
Toris went on to say that he didn’t like being conquered, subjugated, and forced to stay somewhere against his will, but that he didn’t resent Ludwig for it — in fact, he didn’t even mind taking care of his house for him.
“…you dragged me out of that kitchen when you could have just as easily left me behind, and then you took care of me when you could have easily just locked me in a cell somewhere and left me to heal the painful way. You could have made unreasonable demands, you could have taken out your frustrations on me, you could have made my life miserable, but you didn't. And maybe that's a sign that years with Ivan has lowered my standards...” he laughed softly, then seemed to regret it, “But regardless. It meant a lot to me.”
Ludwig was at a loss for words. For the next few moments he sat in silence, balancing his mug on the edge of his knee with one hand, touched. The faintest signs of happiness started to emerge on his countenance, and his eyes almost watered up again, but this time he was successful in reigning the emotion in.
“Danke,” he said, then, unsure whether or not Toris understood that, he added “I mean, thank you.”
Wait! I actually thanked him?!
Ludwig winced guiltily, a big, fat blanket of awkwardness falling over him. “I mean….I appreciate that. You being grateful and…understanding….and all.” His words were halting and clumsy, and together with his light, off-guard tone of voice, embarrassed him. He was torn between the urge to get up and dig himself further into the humiliating hole of weakness he’d started digging himself into by hugging Toris and wishing the earth would open up and swallow him. A tiny, fragile smile made its way to his lips, the most genuine one that had come to him all evening. Blue eyes caught on green. “It means a lot to me too.” he said in a soft half-whisper, a warmth that did not originate from either his drink or the fire rising up inside him.
Then, like lightning in the dark, another thought struck him. His gaze traveled to the window where the last dying reddish-purple rays of the sun were almost completely washed over by a tide of darkness. The fresh nighttime sky was filled with hundreds of blazing, twinkling stars. Red ones. White-blue ones. Yellow ones. Some shone weakly, others pulsated fiercely with vibrant light and energy.
In his seventy-plus years of life, Ludwig had spent many a night gazing up at them, soothed by their quiet beauty, comforted by their stability and longevity. Earth was always changing, but not the stars. They continued to travel the same paths they’d traveled since long before the first nation spirit had taken his first breath. Sometimes they seemed to be singing a song that no one could hear, a glorious melody that even the most gifted, masterful composers could emulate only in the shadows of almost mocking imitation; a song whose chords were the chords of every emotion, whose melody was life itself, whose vibration powered every star. A song that connected everything, a song that told of the beginning of the universe…and its eventual end.
“Toris?” he ventured slowly, seriously, “Do you believe in God?”
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Post by Lithuania on Feb 2, 2011 11:09:47 GMT -5
Toris watched Ludwig thoughtfully, watched the way his face lit up just ever so slightly, the way the normally austere man's expression continued to soften.
“Danke...I mean, thank you.”
The Lithuanian nodded slightly, holding back from letting the other man see the surprise he felt at the sudden, raw outpouring of frank emotion which had somehow taken place during the evening's exchange. His tone was markedly uncertain as he clumsily clalified something which did not need to be clarified, and when those ice blue eyes met his own, he was struck once again by the youth which that gaze contained.
“It means a lot to me too.”
“Bitte schön,” he replied simply. He was by no means fluent in Ludwig's mother tongue but, having ended up in his house, the ever-conscientious, ever-fearful little brunette had anxiously made at least a cursory attempt to learn the basics. Germany had never forced his language onto him the way Russia had, but it had seemed sensible to take precautions against incurring his wrath should the blonde ever start suddenly demanding that he speak German.
He watched the other nation turned contemplative, as he stared out of the window. Toris sat in calm, respectful silence, filled with an eerie kind of stillness that follows an emotional storm of such magnitude. He was still aware of the pain in his chest, of the lump in his throat and the crippling anxiety which accompanied Ludiwig's awful tidings, but the naturally empathetic little Baltic found that he was able to almost...almost...choke it down for now, faced with someone else who seemed to really need his help in that moment. He had always sought his greatest emotional comfort in acts of altruism,...helping others was almost a tonic to his own despair...and even in the face of a situation as devastating as this, he found that today was no exception.
“Toris?” The Lithuanian looked up sharply at the question. “Do you believe in God?”
Toris barely had to hesitate for even a split second before he replied firmly and frankly. “Yes. Unequivocally.”
He glanced out of the window where Ludwig had previously been gazing and paused thoughtfully for a moment before turning back to the German. “Sometimes, I could swear that my faith is the only reason that I'm still here. The only thing that's kept me going through some very dark times.”
He hugged his knees and drew the blanket around himself tighter and struggled to find the words. “I'm Catholic. I have been for centuries. And I know that I'm not always...a model[/i[ Catholic. Ivan made me verbally denounce my faith, and would never let me attend Mass, once he turned Communist. Not to mention that fact that I'm...well...there are certain rules that I've struggled with and that perhaps I don't quite follow to the letter.” He blushed slightly as he thought of his own homosexuality, and of his distinctly forbidden relationship with Ivan over the years.
“But I believe in God, with all my heart. I believe what the Gospels say about turning the other cheek, about putting others before yourself, about loving your neighbour and forgiving your enemies no matter how hard it might be. I might not have always succeeded, but it's how I've at least always tried to live, no matter what.”
He smiled sadly. “But more than that, Ludwig, more than books, or dogma, or anything that you may or may not accept or believe, I believe in the existence of a loving God. I believe that He's watching over us, nations or humans or whatever we might be, and I believe that, even with all the suffering and hate and in the world, and even with all the evil around us that seems to be threatening to close in and take us all whole, there's still some divine good, some spark of light that we have a duty to keep alive.” He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, frightened, cold, selfish tears as he thought about his own mortality, all mixed up with the warmer, more maternal tears he wanted to shed for his own children. He swallowed hard and wiped them away with his grubby sleeve.
“Even if I'm weak, even if I'm dying, and even if everything around me is screaming out to the contrary, I'll always believe in that spark. I think that God is there, if we just reach out with pure intentions. And if terrible things are happening now, if there's so much man-made suffering happening...it doesn't mean that God is ignoring it. I think he's probably weeping about it with us.”
He bit down on his lip, suddenly anxious that he might be giving an unwanted sermon. Hastily, he shook his head and added, “But that's just how I see things. I mean, I'm just giving my honest opinion and I'm not arrogant enough to say that I'm right. Nobody has all the answers, and I'm just trying to muddle through in the best way I can.” He laughed, softly and awkwardly.
“Do you?” he asked curiously, racking his brains to try and remember what the dominant religion was in Germany. He was pretty sure it was Protestant, but he couldn't quite remember what. Or if, indeed, Ludwig actually followed the faith of his people. Perhaps he had his own views. “Um...that is...do you believe in anything?”
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Post by Germany on Feb 10, 2011 5:06:46 GMT -5
“Yes. Unequivocally.”
The answer was so swift, so sure.
Ludwig continued to gaze out the window at the night sky, his eyes traveling between the stars and planets as he listened absorbedly to his servant’s religious views.
“I'm Catholic. I have been for centuries…”
Toris went on to tell him that he didn’t consider himself the model Catholic, that he didn’t always follow his religion’s rules — indeed he even had trouble accepting some of them — and had even been forced to verbally denounce his faith out of necessity to keep himself and his people that much safer under communist Russia. Still, he tried to live the way he believed a good Catholic should, forgiving enemies, turning the other cheek, putting others first, and all that insanely nice, spineless, willing-doormat stuff that Ludwig didn’t understand and couldn’t relate to.
Kindness wasn’t weakness — Toris was right there — but it could be overdone, taken too far. People who were too big-hearted and generous only got screwed over by stronger, more ruthless people who constantly took advantage of them. Lithuania himself was living proof of that. He was a sweet guy, but he might as well be carrying a big glowing sign around his neck that read ‘Use me! Walk all over me! I wait happily to be exploited in whatever ways will suit you best! Please come invade me at your convenience: you’ll find friendly guides and warm cookies at my borders. First come first serve.’ If he hadn’t been so passive and careless, if he’d focused more on strengthening his military and political power and standing up for himself no matter what, then he might not have had to worry about ever falling under Russia’s cruel rule to begin with. Or if he had, it would have been at a high cost of Russian lives. That would be comfort, at least. Ivan already beat Toris senseless anyway — the way Ludwig saw it, the little Baltic might as well do something to deserve it.
The German tore his eyes away from the lively celestial canvas sparkling with glowing gems.
Toris was smiling now, the same faint, mostly mirthless smile the two had already exchanged a few times since this emotionally-charged talk had begun. He was wound up tightly in his new blanket, and even though he was still plainly upset over all he had learned tonight, he seemed to be in slightly better spirits now. His cheeks were a little drier and some of the color had returned to his skin. When he spoke, his voice didn’t tremble or crack as much. Whether it was the heat of the fire, the strength of his beliefs, or some higher power, something was giving him extra strength.
Above all, he said, he believed in a loving god that watched over everyone and everything. Even in the darkest of times there was still a good, pure, divine light, and it was their duty to kindle and protect it. Fighting back fresh tears, he wiped his eyes on his sooty sleeve before continuing.
“Even if I'm weak, even if I'm dying, and even if everything around me is screaming out to the contrary, I'll always believe in that spark. I think that God is there, if we just reach out with pure intentions.”
Ludwig cocked his head curiously, studying Toris with wistful blue eyes that held the ghost-images of the stars’ reflections in them. It’s better than hopelessness I suppose. There were questions he wanted to ask, but Toris didn’t appear to be finished, so he stashed them on the backburner.
“And if terrible things are happening now, if there's so much man-made suffering happening...it doesn't mean that God is ignoring it. I think he's probably weeping about it with us.”
Somewhat surprisingly, Toris broke off right there, biting his lip and shaking his head, admitting that he didn’t know that he was right, that nobody had all the answers, and that he was just trying to figure things out on his own. This was followed by a soft, almost nervous laugh, as though he were afraid he’d stepped over the line somewhere in vocalizing his true feelings.
Then…
“Do you?”
Ludwig blinked, not quite sure he followed. “Do I what?”
“Um...that is...do you believe in anything?”
Ludwig raised his mug to his lips and finished off the rest of the delicious hot beverage it contained. Once it was empty he sat it down on the floor by the side of his chair before replying. “I’m not sure.” His voice was contemplative, searching. “Most of my people are Christians…mostly Protestant. But most of the ones I’ve seen are hypocritical and immoral. I don’t know much about Christ, but I don’t see him torturing and gunning down innocent people just because they don’t believe in God the correct way. Isn’t there a Christian rule somewhere that prohibits murder? I think I remember hearing about it. I think it’s kind of blasphemous that most Nazis still celebrate Christmas — especially since Jesus was a Jew. At least, I heard he was a Jew…” He shook his head uncertainly. “I could be wrong about that. As I said, I don’t know much about the man, only that he preached unconditional love and Christians worship him along with God. Supposedly he was the son of God.” He leaned sideways towards his servant, his right arm resting heavily on the fat arm of the chair.
“As for God Himself…I don’t know. I’ve seen no proof that He exists, but I also haven’t seen any proof that He doesn’t.” He paused, thoughtful, his eyes no longer gazing at the other nation, but seemingly right through him. The room was nice and toasty; the warmth traveled through his veins, lessened some of the bitter coldness that was weighing down his heart. “Faith is mysterious. It seems stupid to believe so firmly in something you don’t know to be true. What if you’re wrong? All the religions out there…even the purest of heart amongst their truest followers all look the same when they’re dead. Jews. Christians. Buddhists. They believe certain things or they don’t, but in the end they all die the same way, rot the same way. And no one has any proof that their spirits actually go where they believe they’ll go, that they don’t just wink out of existence like a light being switched off.”
He locked eyes with Lithuania. “But…everything in the universe had to be created somehow. Not necessarily by God, but I can’t rule Him out. I think, actually, that we might be the strongest hint at God’s existence, if He really is out there. If you think about it, Toris, we shouldn’t exist. We’re symbiotically magically linked to our land and people, the very manifestation of their…essence, I guess, you’d call it. There’s nothing else like us in nature.”
He stopped for a breath, teased his fingers into the soft fabric of his chair. “But that’s all just speculation on my part. Maybe there is no God after all and people just need something to believe in, to give them hope and make all the hardest parts of life bearable. Maybe that’s why they see miracles everywhere — they’re looking for them. They’re looking everywhere, interpreting everything they can as proof. Because a life without hope is a life of the damned.”
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Post by Lithuania on Feb 15, 2011 14:03:51 GMT -5
Toris listened calmly as Ludwig discussed his agnosticism with his customary frankness. Although many of the things he was saying would have seemed blasphemous to a Catholic, the Lithuanian still listened with respectful, unoffended silence. He did not share the German's views, but had no desire to preach to him. The younger nation would find his own way in life, his own faith or lack thereof. He had been born in different times, and had not lived in the same world where Toris had initially found his faith. Back then, you didn't question the existence of God. The only question was which God you swore allegiance to.
He remembered a bright, sunlight day in the gardens of Kreva Castle in the 14th Century, and the day he'd first met Poland. He could clearly remember that little thrill of warmth he felt as the blonde told him about Christ for the first time, how he spoke to him about the new and wonderful idea of Heaven, and a loving God. He remember how, in his youth, it had seemed like the most hopeful thing in the world, after years of tiredly watching his people perform Pagan sacrifices and rituals. Christianity had struck an unexpectedly strong chord with the brunette, and he realised that the concept of loving your neighbour was exactly what he'd always believed, but never been able to articulate.
But back then, there had scarcely been any such thing as atheism, or agnosticism, or any real questions surrounding the existence of a higher power. They had all been so much younger, so very innocent and full of faith, clinging to it as their only anchor to understanding a world without science.
And Toris...well, he still clung.
“Faith is mysterious. It seems stupid to believe so firmly in something you don’t know to be true. What if you’re wrong?”
The little brunette considered Germany's scepticism carefully as he looked down at his coal-blackened hands. He'd exhaustedly listened to many of Ivan's lengthy rants on the merits of atheism, had obediently read the literature given to him, had nodded in agreement and been bombarded with every intellectual and logical argument that Russia's finest scholars had come up with. And he had to admit, he could see the academic merits of the school of thought. But he still believed, perhaps irrationally.
He wondered if he was, in essence, an irrational person, clinging to so many outmoded beliefs, like his faith in a God whose existence was questionable and his love for a man who clearly had no regard for his wellbeing. But what did Lithuania have besides that? Without faith, he really was nothing.
“If you think about it, Toris, we shouldn’t exist. We’re symbiotically magically linked to our land and people, the very manifestation of their…essence, I guess, you’d call it. There’s nothing else like us in nature.”
Toris nodded contemplatively.
“But that’s all just speculation on my part. Maybe there is no God after all and people just need something to believe in, to give them hope and make all the hardest parts of life bearable. Maybe that’s why they see miracles everywhere — they’re looking for them. They’re looking everywhere, interpreting everything they can as proof. Because a life without hope is a life of the damned.”
He sat for the longest time, staring at his hands, staring at the fire, before eventually he looked at Ludwig and smiled slightly. “You know...there are a lot of people who believe in us, even if they don't believe in God.” The little brunette shook his head. “There are so many people out there who are prepared to gladly lay down their lives, for you. Because they believe in you, even if they don't know exactly what that means. If you can't have faith in God, then you can always take heart in the fact that your children have faith in you.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I wish I could make things clearer for you. I've lived for centuries, and I still don't have the answers. I wish that there was something I could say to answer these kind of doubts and questions. But my truth is isn't everyone's truth.” He looked at Ludwig sadly. “I think that agnosticism is the privilege of the young, and the powerful. If I didn't have someone to get on my knees and pray to at night, if I didn't have some kind of faith that this...all of this...was part of God's plan for me...” his mind flashed involuntarily to the scars that littered his body, “...then I think that I'd have lost my mind a few centuries ago.”
The brunette looked at Ludwig earnestly. “Imagine how cruel it would be, if I had nothing to cling to. If the only hope I had in life was that maybe Ivan might get better one day. Imagine if I didn't believe in a loving God, in selflessness and in turning the other cheek, and that my life was nothing more than forced slavery at the hands of whatever nation happened to be more dominant at the time. Imagine having to go through all of that without any faith, or hope.”
He shook his head. “Perhaps I'm just an old fool...but these days, I'm just clinging onto whatever gets me through another day, and I'm ashamed to say that I don't want to question it or think too deeply about it.” He bit his lip. “Not right now. Not when things are like this.”
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Post by Germany on Feb 20, 2011 3:49:32 GMT -5
The near-silence that fell over the room right then was pregnant with sobriety. The crackling of the fire and the quiet sounds of aspiration were the only noises to be heard.
Toris sat motionless, obviously deep in thought. Was he mulling over the existence of God, or trying to decide what was safe to say around his German master?
Ludwig waited patiently. He had all the time in the world tonight, and he was in no hurry to return to the morbid, depressing thoughts which had characterized his walk home. For now, all he wanted was someone to listen to him, someone understanding who was slow to judge and quick to forgive. A friend. Toris.
God, are we really…friends?
Yes. He realized right then, somewhere within that stretch of silence, that they were.
Then he realized that he’d known since several minutes ago, from the moment Toris had started his touching “I like you, Ludwig” speech and subsequently left him at a loss for words.
Green eyes met with his; a slow smile formed on the other man’s face, and the long silence was shattered.
“You know...there are a lot of people who believe in us, even if they don't believe in God.”
It was very true. Ludwig had seen some of these types himself, ordinary human beings who, even though he had never shared his secret with them and they had no other way of knowing, had sensed his nationness, that there was something special about him. It was the extremely rare person who ever consciously and obviously recognized him for what he truly was without having first been told — in fact, only two that he knew about had so far, in more than seventy years — but some people seemed to know subconsciously. Germans were more likely to sense that he was their Deutschland than other nationalities, it seemed, but so far he had encountered a Briton and, surprisingly, a Pole who had been on the mark. The Pole had merely given him a wide berth and treated him with elevated respect and awed glances, as though he wasn’t quite sure what matter of supernatural creature he was dealing with, but the Briton had called him “Deutschland” outright and to his face. That had been during the first World War: the man’s plane had just been shot down, but the conditions were such that he hadn’t been wounded very seriously. Ludwig had gone out to capture him, to which he’d responded in decent-enough German that it wasn’t fair that a regular person like him should be up against the embodiment of Germany himself. Long story short, he’d wound up being unusually likeable for an enemy, and Ludwig had let him go. After disarming him, of course. And giving him a severe enough injury to keep him out of the service for the rest of the war.
People also believed in them in a purely patriotic sense. Ludwig’s people commonly referred to him as “the Fatherland”, even though he didn’t see himself as a father-figure to them. Many were undyingly loyal to him without ever realizing that he was conscious and walking among them, without even dreaming such a thing was possible.
To have people believe in their nations even if they didn’t believe in God — yes, that made sense. Nations were something that people could see: their existence was undeniable. God, on the other hand, was invisible. No one could see Him, and most observable phenomenon that could be attributed to Him could just as easily be explained by science.
Toris was sighing now, running his hand through his hair. Ludwig was struck by how old and world-weary he seemed right then; even if he didn’t look it, his age was catching up with him.
“I wish I could make things clearer for you. I've lived for centuries, and I still don't have the answers. I wish that there was something I could say to answer these kind of doubts and questions. But my truth is isn't everyone's truth.”
Fair enough.
A sadness came over Toris’s face as he went on to say how agnosticism was the privilege of the young and powerful, how he would have lost his mind centuries ago without his faith to keep him afloat through all the rough times. A somber sincerity shone from his eyes and resonated in his voice as he said “Imagine how cruel it would be, if I had nothing to cling to. If the only hope I had in life was that maybe Ivan might get better one day. Imagine if I didn't believe in a loving God, in selflessness and in turning the other cheek, and that my life was nothing more than forced slavery at the hands of whatever nation happened to be more dominant at the time. Imagine having to go through all of that without any faith, or hope.”
Ludwig’s gaze dropped, his own expression becoming even more somber. That would be pretty horrible and hopeless. He couldn’t even imagine being in such a situation, but when he tried to he could see clearly the comfort Toris’s beliefs brought. People — and countries — did what they could to make life more bearable. Faith may be mysterious, but it could also be incredibly strong, whether the beliefs in question ultimately turned out to be true or not.
“Perhaps I'm just an old fool...but these days, I'm just clinging onto whatever gets me through another day, and I'm ashamed to say that I don't want to question it or think too deeply about it. Not right now. Not when things are like this.”
“It’s alright. I understand.” Ludwig’s tone was strong, yet considerate. His fingers flexed over the chair-arm. “Whatever gives you the strength to get through. Who knows? Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps God does exist, and He’s everything you say He is. Maybe He’ll even be loving enough not to send me to Hell when I die for questioning His existence and, well…everything else I’ve done.” Assuming countries don’t just stop existing when they die. He sighed faintly, shaking his head a little as he continued to study the floor.
He would not bring that last thought up to Toris. He didn’t want to think too deeply about it either. What God might be like, what He might not be like, what kinds of activities were damning for Hell, and did countries have immortal souls in the same sense that humans supposedly did and were they judged the same way…no. It was all very depressing, and as it may all well be unknowable until death finally came, what good could possibly come from discussing it? Especially now when both of them were already hurting so much inside and outside.
He pushed the questions out of his mind, turned his attention back fully to the present instead. Back to Lithuania, all snuggled up in his blanket over on the settee…
Surprising himself, he got up and walked over to the brunette, stopping in front of him, a self-conscious uncertainty flickering over his features. Quickly, before he had a chance to second-guess himself — and before emotion could overwhelm him — he bent over and embraced his friend in a clumsy, loose hug, patting his back very gently and leaning his head over the other nation’s left shoulder. His cheek brushed lightly against Toris’s, stirring something within him, something buried deep inside.
He let the hug linger for a few seconds before pulling away and dropping onto the settee right next to Toris. “Keep that a secret,” he coughed purposely, “A secret between friends.”
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Post by Lithuania on Mar 1, 2011 9:02:23 GMT -5
“...Who knows? Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps God does exist, and He’s everything you say He is. Maybe He’ll even be loving enough not to send me to Hell when I die for questioning His existence and, well…everything else I’ve done.”
Ludwig did not sound particularly convinced, but Toris said nothing and simply nodded. After all, the little Lithuanian was privately not entirely sure that, as a nation, he would go anywhere after he died. He hoped so but then...he wasn't human and it was debatable whether he was even God's creation. He was something that had sprung into existence as a result of the collective will of a group of people. But still, he continued to pray to God as if he were the fragile human that he appeared to be.
The German stood up and green eyes flickered with a start to his form, which seemed to be suddenly looming over the settee. And in spite of his earlier kindness, and in spite of the evening's conversation, the small brunette still instinctively shrank back into the sofa as he looked up at Ludwig searchingly. But he didn't look angry, per se. Just...awkward.
A moment later and Toris found himself wrapped in a sudden, clumsy hug. Not quite able to immediately comprehend what was happening, his little frame stiffened and his eyes went wide in shock. Then the taller man's head was resting on his shoulder and the Lithuanian relaxed slightly, reaching up with thin arms to wrap them around Ludwig's back, squeezing very lightly. Their cheeks brushed together for a moment and Toris was struck by just how very warm the other man was. The statuesque German had always seemed so very cold to Toris, so very unapproachable and even a little unfeeling, and he found that his opinion had shifted drastically over the course of the evening.
When the other man pulled away, Toris sat there uncertainly, until he flopped down beside him.
“Keep that a secret...A secret between friends.”
“Friends...?” The little Lithuanian echoed in surprise. Those were few and far between these days, and in the current world climate. He'd been cut off from the world for so long by the possessive Russia that he'd almost forgotten what friendship, real friendship between someone of his own kind, felt like.
He sat cross legged on the couch beside Germany and stared at the fire for a moment. He was under no illusions that this evening would change anything in terms of his freedom, or his personal happiness. After all, he was still a captive and a servant and that fact would not miraculously disappear. And the dire situation with his people showed no sign of becoming any less horrific, simply because he'd had a heart to heart with his oppressor. But the fact remained that he found Ludwig extremely difficult to dislike, and the word “friend”, and the concept it carried with it, still gave him a tiny spark of warmth, where there had previously been nothing but hollow despair.
Without looking at the clearly-embarassed nation, Toris reached over gently and gave Ludwig's hand the lightest of squeezes, his green eyes still focused on the flames in the fire. A tiny little smile curled on his pale lips. “Your secret is safe with me, sir...” he said quietly, deliberately dropping in the respectful form of address in an attempt to reassure the innately authoritarian German that he had no intentions of overstepping his mark.
Letting his hand still rest on top of Germany's, he bit thoughtfully on his bottom lip. “Please know that you can always come and talk to me, whenever things seem too much to...bottle up. It might help to have someone...neutral...to confide in. And I...” he trailed off and hesitated, then shrugged slightly with a tiny laugh. “...I find myself a little starved for conversation these days, anyhow.”
It was true. Since living with Germany he had been desperately lonely. He was vaguely aware of the presence of other nations occasionally milling about...Prussia, Italy, Japan...but Toris always kept to the shadows and said nothing, stared at his shoes and found an excuse to clean the basement, or the attic, or something that would keep him out of the way. Even when he went out on errands, he would often just slide a list towards the shop keeper and say nothing, despite the fact that he'd learned enough German to be able to haltingly converse. He could go for days, even weeks, without exchanging a single word with anybody.
It was the strange polar opposite of constantly being at the centre of Russia's unhealthy obsessions and unreasonable demands. Initially, he had been so very grateful to be alone but, as everything began to degenerate within his homeland, he had found himself more and more unhappy and veering more and more towards loneliness. He kept reminding himself how much better things were this way, how it could only be a good thing that he wasn't living in constant fear of a beating from his paranoid lover. But still, as the war raged on throughout Europe, Toris continued to wither and retreat into his own little shell, shut away safely from the world and its battles, but feeling the physical effects of every single terrible thing that happened to his children.
So right now, the idea of a friend was the most powerfully hopeful thing that Toris could have imagined.
“Thank you, Ludwig.” It occurred to him that it was a strange thing to say to the man whose people were inciting a genocide within his homeland, and who was keeping him prisoner as an unpaid servant. But he meant it so very sincerely. After all, he knew better than anyone that nations should not be held responsible for the actions of their bosses and Ludwig was, for all his battle-lust, a good man. And he displayed all the more moral character for not giving into Hitler's insanity. “It means a lot to me.”
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Post by Germany on Mar 5, 2011 5:17:18 GMT -5
“Friends...?” Like so much else about him, Toris’s uncertain, innocent surprise was cute and enduring. For a nation so old who had lived through so much, he could look and sound so very naïve and childlike sometimes. Probably the result of being violently ripped out of his heydey and forced to serve others for centuries, including Ivan the Heartless who tortured him in every way it was possible for one being to torture another and took sick delight in it all. Living under constant threat of the whip and brutal beatings, it was no wonder he had developed the paranoid, skittish, low-profile personality of a little mouse. He lacked Ludwig’s mental strength and ability to stand strong no matter how the wind blew. Ludwig nodded faintly in response to the quasi-question, but the Lithuanian was already staring off into the fire again, deep in thought. Was he having second thoughts about their friendship, or was his mind on one of the more morbid subjects they’d discussed earlier? He’d taken the news of large-scale Lithuanian cooperation with the Nazis in carrying out ruthless genocide against the Jews pretty badly. There was no way that couldn’t be weighing on his mind and heart, combining with the thought of his own impending destruction and the question of what would happen to him and his “children” after he had taken his last breath to crush him down into a black hole of ice-cold, utter despair. My god, that was a really depressing conversation.But it felt so good to get his worries and fears off his chest, to voice them to someone even if neither he nor they could do anything about them. Nothing had been fixed, but just knowing that Toris knew — that the little brunette sympathized with him and thought his heart was strong and in the right place, that he was suffering through some of the same pains, doubts, and sorrows himself — somehow made it all a little more bearable. He’d always deeply regret what he’d been forced to do, always loathe the merciless Nazi buried deep within him under layers of morality and self-control that occasionally poisoned his thoughts and tried to claw his way out to the surface. He couldn’t change the past, nor could he stop the horrors happening in the present, but Toris had ignited a small flicker of hope within him: a candle-flame that burned weakly but beautifully in the darkness. As long as he held on to who he was, he would never become a monster. And even if he couldn’t make a difference on a grand scale, the little acts of goodness he did here and there — saving the lives of a pair of Jewish children, discouraging senseless cruelty amongst his soldiers, playing blind and dumb in the name of mercy, comforting a heartbroken friend who was currently bound to serve him — they weren’t all in vain, he reminded himself. They mattered. They were meaningful. His well-timed rescue had meant the world to Arik and Nessa, and not only had he made Toris feel better, he felt better himself because of it, in an odd, curious way that he couldn’t even begin to describe. Somewhere in the space of these thoughts Toris’s hand found his. Thin, vaguely warm fingers curved around his own, giving them a delicate squeeze. Ludwig searched the other man’s face and found a tiny smile there. “Your secret is safe with me, sir...” Even though he was not looking directly at him, Toris dipped his head. Circumstances being what they were the gesture was superfluous, but it showcased a high degree of respect and submission, and Ludwig appreciated that. Friend or not Lithuania was still the subordinate nation here, and it was nice to see him so willing to acknowledge his place and behave in the manner appropriate for it. Willing, respectful servants were the best kind. And they were so hard to come by. Ludwig merely nodded once in response, the first stages of a weary but happy little smile coming to his own lips. Though his hand remained still under the Lithuanian’s, he was very much enjoying his touch. “Please know that you can always come and talk to me, whenever things seem too much to...bottle up. It might help to have someone...neutral...to confide in.”It did. Germany had always prided himself in his great mental strength as well as his physical, but even the strongest countries could benefit from a little emotional support now and then. And with his kind and understanding nature, obsequious servility, intelligence, and down-to-earth character, Lithuania was the perfect person to confide in. As an added plus, thanks to his rather insane love for Ivan and his history of failed rebellions and constant subjugation, any judgment that came from him could be safely taken with a grain of salt. “And I...” And you what?Ludwig waited anxiously for him to finish, and when he shrugged and appeared to quietly laugh it off he was somewhat surprised when the effeminate brunette followed up with the rest of the statement he’d apparently been about to make. “...I find myself a little starved for conversation these days, anyhow.”You’re lonely? Ludwig had selfishly never considered that possibility, but now that he did it made sense. Toris was little more than a prisoner inside his house, and he didn’t imagine he would find many sympathetic ears whenever necessity drove him to head out into the city for supplies. A twinge of guilt shot through him, but the situation couldn’t be helped much. This was the way it had to be… “Thank you, Ludwig.” Toris said suddenly, and the sincerity in his voice was all the more cause for guilt on his blonde oppressor’s part, “It means a lot to me.”Ludwig’s semi-smile turned into a real one, small but heartfelt, that reached to his eyes. Carefully moving his hand out from under Toris’s, he gave the other nation an amiable pat on the shoulder, and for the first time since they’d interacted the outward display of friendly affection flowed naturally and lacked any semblance of awkwardness. “I’m glad I could help.” he said kindly, making a conscious effort to take most of the inherent not-always-mood-related hostility out of his voice, “After all you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can offer. I’ll try to come by more often and talk to you. And…and in the meantime, don’t worry about using up too much coal. Use as much as you need to stay comfortable. So long as you don’t constantly keep the house at, say, 27 degrees I really don’t care.” Being that Toris was a little on the masochistic side, he doubted he’d always keep the house at a comfortable temperature anyway, but he’d give him that option. He was a powerful and prosperous nation: he could certainly afford it. His hand still resting atop Toris’s shoulder, a steely determination entered his voice as he said “And I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to keep you from…dissolving. I know that’s not much of a comfort coming from Hitler’s slave, but I’ll try. I won’t give up.”I won’t give up on my people, either. he added silently, Any of them. So long as I’m the spirit of Germany there’s hope for them all.__________________________________________ A/N: And so it ends! And by the way, for all our American threadstalkers out there who may be wondering, the temperature of “27 degrees” Ludwig mentions is in Celsius — he’s not pulling an Ivan. XD 27 degrees Celsius translates into about 81 degrees Fahrenheit.[/color]
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