Ein Missverständnis Aufklären... [Ludwig & Toris]

[Germany]

Cleansing the wounds, Ludwig was quick to pick out the most recent batch again, the ones that looked to have been received only a few days ago. Two of them were bleeding weakly — the reddish welts must have gotten ripped open when the Baltic had struggled with him to keep his shirt on. Like all the other marks on his back they were ugly, severe, and taking too long to heal. He re-rinsed the cloth before tending to them, ignoring the way his patient squirmed a little in obvious discomfort. Getting wounds cleaned and dressed was never comfortable, at least in his experience.

Then Toris was speaking of the war again, saying all the things he expected him to say: that he was going to remain neutral, that his people did not share Hitler’s ideals and vision. Strangely, he sounded almost sorry about it, like he would seriously consider joining on Germany’s side if his people were not so strongly opposed.

Ludwig felt his affection for his new servant grow. In his present state an Axis Lithuania would be even more useless than Italy, but he appreciated the thought. Very much appreciated it. Because even though he had Feliciano and Gilbert for close personal friendship and moral support, now more than ever these days it felt like the whole damn world was against them, and it was always nice to have that little extra bit of support.

"But I would like for us to be frie...um...on friendly terms, too,"

Ludwig perked up a little at that. His cloth continued to glide over the brunette’s back and scrub lightly at problem spots, but his mind was no longer wholly on what he was doing.

Toris had almost said he wanted to be friends. An innocent slip of the tongue, or did he really mean it?

The Baltic followed this up by reaffirming his earlier promise to work hard for him, then sighed and wrapped his arms around himself. “...I really do appreciate you trying to save me.” He sounded sad.

“Trying to save you, what do you mean trying to save you?” Ludwig repeated, confused. He dropped the cloth into the bowl this time since the water was by this point dirty beyond use. “I have saved you. Ivan has to get past me to get to you. And that is not going to be easy: I have grown very strong over these last few years. Those injuries he gave me? They barely slowed me down. It will not be long before they’re healed completely.”

An exaggeration, but not a great one. In truth the wounds he’d received from Ivan and even — embarrassingly — the slick floor had slowed him down, and he was still very much feeling them today. But he wasn’t feeling them as intensely as, say, a Baltic nation would, and unless something serious happened on a massive scale to his people, government, or economy over the next couple of days, they would heal rapidly. Likely without leaving a scar, though that variable was not so easy to predict.

He was staring over Toris’s back into the wall now, his mouth drawn up into a firm line. His next words were burning with defiance and controlled anger. “He’s going to have to do a lot better than that if he wants to take me down.”

Then he remembered Toris’s gratitude and desire to be on friendlier terms, and his mouth softened, his gaze becoming less severe. “I’ll be back in a moment.” he told his patient in a slightly friendlier tone. Without even looking at him, he scooped up the bowl of water and headed out the door.

He returned a couple of minutes later with fresh cloth floating in a fresh bowl of water. These were set in the same place as before.

However, rather than getting back to work on his patient’s scar-ridden back, he stood studying him, an innocent, thoughtful expression playing about his features, as though he were on the verge of saying something kind but could not decide what.

Perhaps we could be fri — The thought died quickly. No. It would never work. Not with me being his master and spending most of my time away from home fighting. And sooner or later he’s bound to learn the truth about Feliks…what then? Even if I refrain from personally dealing the death blow, Poland doesn’t have much time left the way my boss is going. That’s not going to sit well with Toris.

The Baltic had been so relieved and comforted by his lie…

[Lithuania]

“I have saved you..."

Toris smiled sadly at Ludwig's naive affirmation, as though the whole affair was as simple as picking him up and taking him out of Ivan's house and keeping the deranged blonde from getting near him. Even if he hid behind Ludwig from now until the end of the world, he'd still never really be saved from Ivan. The damage that his lover had inflicted on him, both physically and mentally, was irreversable in more ways that Toris could count.

“He’s going to have to do a lot better than that if he wants to take me down.”

The brunette held his tongue and decided against saying anything. He'd made his decision, to hold onto neutrality, and it would be hypocritical of him to express an opinion one way or another, regardless of his hopeless personal feelings for Ivan. The conflict between Russia and Germany, between Germany and everyone, really, made him feel ill. He didn't want to go to war with anybody, and as long as Ludwig respected that and didn't try to make a soldier of him, then he felt that perhaps things might work out alright, at least as a tentative arrangement for the near future.

Clearly Ludwig understood to some extent, because his expression relaxed and he disappeared for a moment to retrieve some more first aid supplies. When he left the room, Toris took a moment to sink his head into his hands and draw in a few sharp breaths at the stinging sensation that covered his entire back and the ever-present anxiety in his chest.

He looked up abruptly as the German re-entered the room, staring at the cloth in his hand and fighting the urge to groan at the painful prospect of him wiping at his wounds again. But Ludwig made no move to do anything, simply hovering where he stood and staring at him intently, his face devoid of it's usual austere frown. Self consciously, Toris drew his arms tighter about himself, pulling his knees up to his chest. And although there was nothing predatory in Germany's expression, he suddenly got the irrational fear that the other man was going to pounce on him and straddle him again, and he suddenly clutched the bedsheet anxiously, shrinking back against the pillow and looking up at Ludwig with the air of a cornered animal.

Blinking hard, he studied the German's face anxiously for a few moments, but the other man simply continued to look at him with an expression which was wholly devoid of any malicious intent. Embarassed at his momentary, reflexive panic, Toris let his shoulders slump and he offered Ludwig a shy, apologetic attempt at a smile, his effeminate features pale and strained under their mottling of cuts and bruises. Eventually, the silence and the stare was making him so uncomfortable that he felt the need to speak, just to break some of the awkwardness he felt.

"It's really been a strange couple of days..." he observed quietly, with a weak attempt at a laugh. It fell horribly flat as he winced at the pain it evoked from his knife wound. He curled up tighter into himself, wrapping his arms around his shins and resting his chin on his knees forlornly, as though the child-like position would somehow afford him a little protection from a world that was becoming increasingly more and more confusing and frightening. For it was only now that the pain and the delirium and the grief and the panic were all subsiding, that Toris was able to realise just how utterly, hopelessly lost he was. A world war was breaking out around him, and somehow, through no fault of his own, he'd gone from quietly making lunch the afternoon before to being beaten half to death, caught up in a gunfight between two major world powers, stabbed, threatened with bloody retribution for something he hadn't even done and then hauled away unconscious and bleeding to become a servant in the house of his abusive lover's worst enemy. And while he didn't doubt that Ludwig had some form of good intentions in mind, or at least better intentions for him that Ivan currently did, the whole situation was still utterly overwhelming. He had been quickly running out of emotional fortitude as Ivan's mistreatment reached breaking point with him, and this sudden, overwhelming shift in circumstances was a little too much to fully comprehend.

And it was so morbidly surreal, too, he realised, looking intently at Ludwig, that almost 400 years before the tall, powerful nation before him had even come into existence, quick-witted, brave little Toris had fought and bested his older brother at Grunwald. And now there was no hint whatsoever of any of that strength or military prowess left in him. Time and age and a naturally inbuilt hopeless altruism had gifted him with humility and turned him into a pacificist, and Ivan had subsquently broken him completely, had turned him into a shell of a country. And now all the tiny, emaciated little Baltic could do was shiver weakly and look up at Ludwig with tearful gratitude for simply affording him the immeasurably valuable compassion of a shred of casual kindness. If he hadn't been so desperately distressed, he might have felt ashamed. But Toris had long since stopped trying to reconcile what he had once been with what he had become and simply accepted it, with the kind of serenity that only comes with despair.

And he understood too that Ludwig, as cold and austere and shut off as he was, probably still wanted to feel a little like the hero in it all, just the same as Alfred had. It was a natural impulse, and Toris' utter devastation at being separated from the one person that Germany was trying to protect him from was probably insulting at best. And although he was starting to comprehend that he wasn't going anywhere any time soon, it was still too early to work out what Ludwig wanted from him, how best to keep his new master happy and avoid as many pitfalls as possible and make it from day to day without incurring anybody's wrath. It was too early, too confusing, and Toris was far too bewildered and distressed.


"Sorry," he mumbled, realising that he was still huddled up in the corner of the bed, his facial expression and his body language still silently screaming "please don't touch me". He uncurled slightly, sitting cross legged under the sheets and shrugging uncomfortably. "I think I have a lot of things to adjust to..."

[Germany]

The more Ludwig studied him, the more the brunette curled up into a shivering little ball, drawing the bed sheets tightly up against his body as though they were a shield which could protect him against the attack he must have thought was coming. Fear-ridden green eyes fixed on him anxiously, watching his every move. At one point he gave a mild start and pressed back into his pillow.

Just like a cornered animal, Ludwig thought, his pride tainted with a hint of sorrow, he’ll fight me when I get too close, but mostly he’s just afraid of me. On one hand it was nice — not to mention highly flattering — to see such a strong visual indicator that Toris understood and respected his power and authority. But on the other this was not an enemy — it was a new servant with whom he hoped to build friendly relations. Now that the shock of being liberated from Ivan’s insane, pitiless, greedy hands had worn off and the cringing Baltic had accepted both his new situation and his place in Ludwig’s house, there was no need for him to, well, cringe so much.

As Ludwig looked on, the Lithuanian blinked as though snapping out of a daze. With a tiny, fragile little smile, he timidly remarked that it’d been a strange couple of days and choked out a painful laugh which died almost instantly in his throat. Then, to Ludwig’s semi-amazement, he proceeded to make himself into an even smaller ball, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees like a small child.

A small girl child, from the way he appeared. Toris, you really do not have a masculine build. Germany found himself thinking again, and in the deepest, most secret recesses of his mind he honestly wasn’t sure whether the other man’s lack of a respectable, clearly male physique disgusted him in a general “you’re one hell of a pathetic excuse for a man/nation” way or turned him on.

When they’d first met, he had taken Lithuania for a fairly flat-chested female. The Baltic’s features were somewhat androgynous — a bit more on the feminine side in Germany’s eyes, especially in the face — his name was unisex, and he did tend to talk and act more like a woman, so it wasn’t Ludwig’s fault if there was to be any confusion. Were it not for the masculine pronouns other nations had thrown around when referring to him, Germany would have gone on thinking he really was biologically female. Hell, even as it was he sometimes slipped up and thought of him as female.

Which is why it was sometimes easy to envision…

No.

He was not going there.

Why the hell was he thinking about this? Yes, Toris would have made a far better female than a male, but it wasn’t as if he could simply wave a magical wand and change the other man’s sex.

It’s been too long since I’ve been with a woman. he sighed inwardly, keeping his face poker under the crushing embarrassment and longing that came with that realization. He would have to make time for that as soon as he could.

Toris was mumbling and apology now and slowly coming out of his ‘terrified lost child’ impersonation. "I think I have a lot of things to adjust to..." he announced, sounding slightly more relaxed.

Ludwig nodded slowly, shoving thoughts of effeminate Baltics, women, and sex aside as much as his present mindframe would allow. Reaching down, he plucked the cloth out of the bowl, wrung it out, and proceeded to move in towards his patient’s back yet again.

“Yes, you do.” he answered pointedly, “But you’ll like most of the changes.” He offered the wounded nation a small smile, hoping to ease some of that apprehension, “Who knows?” His tone was lighter now, almost — but not quite — jocular. “Stay with me long enough and you might get a bit of a backbone.”

It would never happen, but what the hell. After the insane amount of physical and emotional trauma and upheaval he’d endured over the last 48 hours, Ludwig felt inclined to say something to lift his servant’s spirits up.

That accomplished, he resumed work on Toris’s back. When it was all cleaned and dressed with ointment in the most severe places, he held true to his word and left the other man to take care of the rest.

Now that Russia was an official enemy, he had some serious planning to do.

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A/N: And so it ends! For the official record, my Ludwig is mostly straight with a bit of a bi tendency where overly effeminate, feminine-looking men are concerned. ;P