Paris, near the Quai d’Orsay, June 1919
Roderich was sitting in a café he technically couldn’t afford anymore, sipping on a cup of coffee that hardly deserved the name. The unlit cigarette between his fingers was cold comfort for the bad coffee substitute in front of him. He wondered what he was doing in Paris anyway, excluded from the negotiations that would seal his future—or lack thereof.
His empire had crumbled under his hands; was still crumbling. Hungary had left him as had so many others. Were still leaving him. He could feel it in his bones; in the inexplicable, dull pain that seemed to reside everywhere in his body. Like so many of his people including the ones who governed him now, he believed his only chance to survive was to join the German Empire. However, the Allied Powers didn’t seem willing to grant him this wish.
He wanted to smoke a pipe to calm himself, but he truly couldn’t afford that anymore, let alone the expensive cigars he had become so fond of before the Great War. What was more, he had forgotten to bring his lighter.
Perhaps I’m just going to whither away, he thought, weighing the cigarette in one hand and clinging to the coffee cup with the other. He felt drugged, as if the coffee were absinthe and the cigarette an opium pipe.
What has become of you? he thought. What did you make of yourself? He imagined his past self in all his Habsburg glory, watching his pathetic future form with merciless eyes.
@damnprussia
damnprussia:
Gilbert was still a touch uncomfortable with Roderich being so open, but he saw this as Roderich being daring and bold in their long and tumultuous relationship, and Gilbert wasn’t going to back down from a challenge. If Roderich was going to be open - then damn it, Gilbert could be too.
He sat up a bit and cleared his throat. From the corner of his eye he saw that someone was staring at them - probably because their very weird conversation happening in a public place. Gilbert slowly turned his head to stare at the man, his eyes cold and harsh - it quickly ceased any lingering eyes upon them. He turned back to Roderich.
“I believe the saying is that….there is a difference between being alone, and being lonely,” he responded. A thought overcame him, and an uncharacteristically warm smile came on his face - well, uncharacteristic around Roderich.
“I know we used to…have spats about who would take Ludwig-” That was an understatement. “ - so it may surprise you to hear that it is okay if you take him for, ah, a decade or more.” he chuckled. “Perhaps it will prevent something like this from happening again - obviously my influence was not as healthy on the boy as I had thought.“
Roderich noticed they had been stared at, but he couldn’t have cared less. Pulling on his cigar, he considered Gilbert’s words.
“That is very true. I used to wish I was alone more, but I never felt lonely. Now I’m both alone and lonely.”
Gilbert’s next suggestion put a sad smile on his lips.
“Oh Gilbert.” His tone was fond and soft, surprising himself. “You know that wouldn’t work. First of all, it wouldn’t be good for Ludwig not to stay in his country when these negotiations are over. I can’t imagine he’d want that, either. Besides, the Allied powers would never allow it. You heard that they want me to be forever separate from Germany.”
“As for our battles over Ludwig – you won them a long time ago.” It felt surprisingly easy to say. Compared to where he was now, it didn’t matter anymore.
Of course, part of it still mattered. But he had come to terms with it, unlike the situation in which he was now.
Somehow, he had let go of the coffee mug. His right hand was on the table, dangerously close to Gilbert’s side of it.
“Thank you nonetheless for trying to cheer me up.”
His hand reached out, almost out of its own volition. Barely touching the skin of Gilbert’s fingertips, it stopped as Roderich realised what he was doing. He was crossing a line. His heart thumped, shaking some of the numbness away.
