[Fic] Lilies, Leaves and Weeds Chapter 1

[deegeeak]

Most people wrote Feliciano off as a bit of an airhead, conveniently choosing to forget that it had been Italy who had subtly driven European culture for centuries. They had produced some of the greatest scientists, artists, and theologians. The Villa had been the House of all Houses since the days of Rome. It had been one of their explorers who'd come across the new world, and they were still considered the center of one of the world’s major religions. Italy may not be the brightest star in all the world - but they were the most influential one of all.

But that was actually all right with Feli and his brother. They were much happier being underestimated by everyone as world powers. There was far less risk and equal reward in being a shadow player these days. One could get away with far more when one was constantly underestimated. But sometimes that subtlety the brothers liked so much had a price.

Beside him slept his beloved Ludwig. Ludwig normally slept much like he did anything else - silently, controlled, and very deliberate. The German man's iron control was a godsend to Feli. Ludwig's strength kept him centered and grounded in the here-and-now. In return, Feli brought a bit of whimsy and indulgence to Ludwig's soul.

(The best example of this was their mutual love of well crafted sports cars. He firmly believed that if he had not come into Ludwig's life, the German would still be churning out nothing but stoic little Volkswagen, instead of his sleek Porsche and stunning Audi. Feli loved testing the new models out on 'business trips'.)

Ahem. Pushing aside the memories of a very inspired drive around the Nürburgring, Feli curled back into his dom's warm side.

He gently nuzzled the black Imperial eagle on Ludwig's shoulder. There were perpetual lines now in Ludwig's face, even at his most relaxed, despite Feli's best efforts. It wasn't the politics or the last bits of reunification that were causing them, but worry instead. Worry for Gilbert.

Only weeks before Ivan Braginsky had returned what was left of Gilbert to Ludwig, saying only that the madness and blood-lust of earlier years would trouble the albino no more. No one really knew what had happened to him behind the wall - not even the ones trapped there. Even Elizaveta hadn't known what was going on with Gilbert and she'd been the closest thing to a best friend he'd had in the Soviet Union.

(Feli had, in fact, cornered her not long after the wall had come. She may have her own House now, but she had first been taught in Feli's own House - the Roman House. And the Villa did not let go of those it called its children lightly.

"He never hurt us deliberately. He just let the cold and our own minds do the work for him,” she'd confided while Austria's back was turned. "He never took body rights, or anything."

Toris had confirmed her words later. "If we obeyed, we got food, clothes, bed and warmth. If we didn't, he threw us into the cold until we did.")

Well, whatever had happened, it had certainly done a number on the normally outgoing German. Where before his actions had been full of life (and madness), now they were slow and dull. He wasn't the same Gilbert that had taken and held his spot as a world power by sheer force of his personality and through raw power.

Ludwig had his brother followed for a whole week out of concern for what he was doing. They'd discovered he'd go out, get drunk, and pick a fight that he'd lose deliberately. They'd tried minders - the last one, a very polite Swiss dom had quit last night. "He is going to kill himself, sir, and I refuse to be his gun," the man had said.

No, Gilbert just wasn't himself anymore.

Feli sighed. Ludwig had kept Gilbert's room the exact same way it had been before the Allied Forces had come and taken him away. But when he'd come back, well, they kept finding Gilbert down in the basement curled up next to the boiler in the mornings. So Ludwig had the basement renovated, made it fit for living in. Gilbert spent nearly all of his time down there. When he did come up for food or beer, he was eerily quiet, almost like a ghost with his pale skin and bright red eyes. He'd try to bluster sometimes, but even the local street cats had learned he wasn’t worth running from.

Feli had hoped that when Arthur Kirkland showed up one Friday night, already half drunk and looking for trouble, that things would improve (it had), but soon after Arthur left Gilbert had fallen back into his ghost-like state. And he'd gone back to finding fights as well.

This, he decided, could not be allowed to go on. The stress and worry it was causing Ludwig was beginning to impact not just their own lives, but the health of Germany. Something had to be done, and swiftly.

"Feli? S'matter?" His dom muttered sleepily, pulling him closer to his body. Oops.

"Just dreaming of pasta, ve~"

"G'back t'sleep," he was ordered. Real order or not, he rarely disobeyed Ludwig in private. As he began to fall asleep, an idea formed in his head.

Now what was that North American nation's name again?