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Chapter Text

The Italian kingdom was once a powerful and prosperous nation, growing and developing at an impressive pace. Its economy flourished, drawing the attention of empires eager to trade rare artifacts and valuable goods for its abundant resources. Despite its neutrality and lack of formal allies, no foreign power sought to conquer it. On the contrary, its diplomatic relations with the world were strong. The citizens lived in contentment, with few complaints reaching the ruler’s ears. The kingdom thrived under a beloved king who cared deeply for his people.

Yet, for all its prosperity, fate dealt the nation a cruel hand.

The king fell gravely ill. Already an old man, he did not last more than a few short weeks. His passing caused a stir throughout the kingdom, turning joy into fear and stability into chaos. You see, the king left behind no sons, only two granddaughters, still young and, by law, unfit to rule. There was but one way for either to inherit the throne: a written decree from the late king himself. And he had planned to write one, naming his eldest granddaughter as his successor. But on the very night he was to put quill to parchment, death claimed him.

Without an heir, the kingdom unraveled. The court, lost without a ruler, scrambled to find a solution. Letters were sent to neighboring empires and kingdoms, pleading for aid. But with no clear successor, only one option seemed viable: marriage. If one of the princesses wed a foreign king or emperor, he could claim the throne and bring order once more. Yet neither sister wished to be married off, and with no alternative, panic gripped the nation.

The economy crumbled. Fear spread. The once-thriving agriculture withered as farmers abandoned their fields, uncertain of the future. Hunger and unrest took hold. Many believed that the kingdom, once a beacon of prosperity, was doomed to fade from history…

But that was not to be.

As a last resort, the Austrian and Spanish emperors answered the court’s desperate pleas. They arrived not as conquerors but as so-called saviors, or at least, that was how they framed it... Their solution, however, was one that few Italians, least of all the royal sisters, could accept.

They divided the kingdom.

The Austrian emperor claimed the North, while the Spanish emperor took the South, each absorbing their half into their already vast empires. Stability returned, and the kingdom was spared from falling into ruin. But at what cost? Italy was no longer an independent nation; it had become a land governed by two foreign rulers…

And the princesses?

They lost their titles, their home, and their right to remain in their grandfather’s castle. Though the Austrian and Spanish emperors expressed sympathy for the sisters, they saw no place for them in the divided kingdom. Instead, they took the girls under their wings, each claiming one as their ward.

Neither sister wanted to leave. Neither wanted to be separated.

But in the world of kings and emperors, their voices held no power.

And so, with tears in their eyes, they were torn apart… the elder taken to Spain, the younger to Austria.

What a pitiable story, truly…

A young man with uncannily white hair let out a slow breath, lowering the stack of letters he had already read more times than he cared to admit. They detailed the kingdom’s fall, a tale he had mulled over for much of his lengthy journey… if only because there had been little else to occupy his mind. With a sigh, he ran a hand down his face before straightening the dark blue tailcoat that had grown rumpled from hours spent in the carriage.

Suddenly, the vehicle lurched to a halt.

Frowning, he drew back the curtain beside him and peered out. But he didn’t need to ask for an explanation—the towering silhouette of the Spanish Emperor’s castle loomed ahead.

He had arrived.

A smirk spread across his face as he threw open the carriage door and leapt out, startling his attendants, who had been just about to do it for him. Stretching his stiff limbs, he let out a satisfied sigh.

“Finally!” the young man exclaimed, rolling his shoulders before turning to his advisor. “You unloaded the things I got for Toni?”

The older man shook his head. “Not yet, Your Majesty. But I will give the order at once for the congratulatory gifts to be unloaded and brought inside His Highness’s castle.” He bowed his head in deference.

The white-haired royal gave a nod before shifting his attention to the castle gates before him. “Well then, I’ll head inside. Bring the rest whenever you’re ready.” His gaze flicked to his weary court, scattered across the many carriages that had carried his offerings and officials.

The advisor bowed again but hesitated before speaking. “Your Majesty, for formality’s sake, at least take three attendants with you.”

It was well known that the young King had a free-spirited nature, often disregarding customs that other royals held sacred. While it was admirable that he treated his subjects with respect, the world they lived in was not so forgiving. To enter another sovereign’s castle alone, without any visible court, could be taken as an insult. A slight to another monarch’s status, a careless gesture that could spark tensions, even war. And the white-haired king did love a good fight.

(Of course, the Spanish Emperor was an exception—he was a dear friend. But tradition was tradition.)

The King considered this for a moment, then sighed. “You’re my advisor, after all. I suppose you’re right.” Offering the man a confident smile, he turned and swiftly selected three attendants to accompany him inside. With that decision made, he strode toward the noble assembly.

Upon his arrival, his presence was immediately announced, and the gathered courtiers bowed in respect. A few members of the Spanish court greeted him at the entrance of the grand hall and, under their Emperor’s orders, began to escort him toward the throne room.

As they moved through the main corridor, the white-haired ruler found himself in a narrower passage, though just as lavishly adorned. Having visited many times before, it took him only a moment to recognize it as the final stretch leading to the royal chamber.

Now, he mulled to himself, only one more set of doors stood between him and the throne room, where his friend, the Spanish Emperor, awaited…

But..!

Before continuing, it would be best to shed light on this Spanish Emperor, who, from what has been said, may be mistaken for a ruthless conqueror. Lest he be misunderstood, his name was Antonio Fernández Carriedo. Though he ruled over many lands that had lost their independence, he had not seized them by brute force. Instead, he had stepped in when they teetered on the brink of ruin, offering stability where there had been none. His governance was not one of tyranny, but of compassion. No one under his rule starved, and even the lowest workers were treated with dignity. It was no surprise, then, that when the Italian kingdom began to crumble, he had been the one to extend his hand.

Antonio’s good heart was known well, not only by his people but also by his wife, Emma. Their marriage, like many royal unions, had been born out of necessity rather than romance. Emma’s homeland had exhausted its resources, and in an effort to save it, her elder brother had arranged for her to wed the Spanish Emperor. Antonio, who had been rumored to be seeking a consort, agreed—on the condition that he would govern their three territories. The arrangement was made, and word spread throughout their kingdoms. Neither bride nor groom had met before the ceremony, and both carried their own anxieties about the union.

But when they did meet, right there at the altar, it was, as the old saying goes, love at first sight. Infatuation came swiftly, not just for each other’s beauty, but for their kindness. Antonio had never encountered a royal as humble and generous as Emma, and Emma, in turn, was taken aback by Antonio’s warmth and respect. What had started as a marriage of convenience quickly became a marriage of love.

They were fortunate. Such love was rare in a world like theirs…

Anyway, as I mentioned earlier, the Emperor had a kind heart, as did his Empress. So, when Antonio returned home with the news that he had taken control of the southern part of the Italian kingdom, it was only natural that Emma was the first to welcome the former princess with open arms, treating her as a younger sister—perhaps even as a daughter. Antonio soon followed his wife’s example, his natural warmth turning paternal. He granted the young girl a title, naming her Emma’s lady-in-waiting, and ensured that she received all the education befitting her station—music, language, and, most pressingly, Spanish, since she now lived in Spain. It was no secret that the Emperor and Empress had grown deeply fond of the girl.

The white-haired King had, of course, heard of this long before his arrival. News of such matters traveled swiftly through the empires, and Antonio himself had sent countless letters detailing what rumors did not.

Custom dictated that he visit to formally congratulate his friend on his growing empire. But in truth, he had come not to honor the expansion of Antonio’s rule, but to commend him for saving yet another nation from ruin.

At last, the white-haired royal reached the grand doors that separated the hallway from the throne room. At a command from one of the Spanish court officials, the guards stepped aside and pushed the doors open, allowing the Germanic King and his attendants to enter.

The moment he stepped inside, his gaze landed on two figures standing beside their thrones, their faces lit with bright expressions. The Spanish Emperor and Empress.

“The King of the Germanic Nation has arrived!” the court official announced, prompting the attendants and guards to bow their heads in greeting. “Your Imperial Majesties, please welcome His Highness, Gilbert Beilschmidt.”

Gilbert smirked and offered a slight bow to the two monarchs before him. Antonio and Emma returned the gesture, and as Gilbert straightened, his smirk eased into a more casual, relaxed grin.

“Long time no see, Toni!” Gilbert called out informally, glancing over his shoulder to instruct his attendants to wait alongside the Spanish ones before striding forward, hands in his pockets.

The Spanish Emperor wasted no time. With a bright grin, he leapt forward to meet Gilbert halfway.

“Gil!” Antonio greeted warmly before pulling him into a hug, which the white-haired King reciprocated. “When I got your letter saying you were coming, I was tan feliz!” (So happy!)

Gilbert chuckled. “Yeah, I’m glad I came too. I needed a break from all those documents and duties—way too many.” He gave Antonio a firm pat on the back before stepping away.

“Speaking of which, I came to congratulate you on your new land. Brought you some gifts for that.” He tapped his chin in thought. “Silver, gold—oh, and beer… some armor, too.” Letting out a small huff, he laughed. “Honestly, I have no clue what the rest are. My advisors picked them out.”

Antonio laughed as well. “You shouldn’t have, really! We’re friends, Gil.”

“That’s what I kept telling my advisors!” Gilbert said with a grin before his gaze shifted to Emma, who had stepped down to join them. “Oh, Emma! Look at you!” He greeted her with a smile and a respectful nod. “As charming as ever.”

He then offered to kiss the Empress’s hand, prompting an amused giggle from her. As he pulled away, he caught the small shake of Antonio’s head—disapproving yet entertained. Gilbert, unfazed, smirked. “How’ve you been?”

Emma returned his nod with a warm smile. “Good as always, Gilbert! How was your trip?”

The white-haired King let out a small, weary sigh. “Eh, pretty long. My back’s still sore. We stopped at a few inns along the way, but honestly, I hate traveling by carriage. I’d much rather go by ship.”

Emma gave a knowing smile. “I’d have to disagree with you there. Sea travel makes me terribly dizzy.”

“Ohhh,” Gilbert drawled, shooting Antonio a smug look before giving him a few playful pats on the forearm. “So that’s why Toni always travels by land with you!” He leaned in slightly, still smirking. “How gentlemanly of you, Toni.”

Antonio, ever earnest, took the words at face value. “Of course! I can’t let mi amor fall ill.” He turned to Emma with a smile, his affection clear. She returned the look just as fondly.

Gilbert nearly rolled his eyes. He suddenly felt like an intruder in their sappy moment, so he let his gaze wander elsewhere. The castle walls, the banners, the architecture… until his eyes landed on the thrones.

But then… something else—no, better said, someone—near the thrones caught his attention…

A young girl, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, stood partially hidden behind the Empress’s throne. Dressed in noble attire, she wore a small crest of the Spanish Empire on her chest. Her long, dark brown hair had a single untamed strand that curled upward. Her eyes—greenish? Brownish? He couldn’t quite tell—were lowered, avoiding attention.

Yet, something about her struck him as oddly familiar, though he couldn’t quite place it…

Gilbert squinted.

Where had he seen this girl before?

Just as he was about to dwell on it, Antonio’s voice suddenly pulled him back.

“Gil? You alright?” Antonio asked, raising an eyebrow, his tone tinged with mild confusion. “You seem a bit distracted.”

Gilbert shook his head, brushing off the concern with a soft exhale. “It’s nothing. I just…” His words trailed off as his gaze involuntarily drifted toward the girl standing behind the throne. There was something about her… an odd pull that he couldn't quite place. “Who’s that?”

His question immediately caught Antonio and Emma’s attention. They followed his line of sight, and it didn’t take them long to realize who he was referring to.

“Oh, dear,” Emma murmured before excusing herself and stepping toward the girl with a warm expression. In gentle Spanish, she said. “Lovina, why are you hiding behind the throne? It would be nice if you greeted our guest too, don’t you think? He’s a dear friend of ours.” She placed a hand on the girl’s forearm in encouragement, smiling kindly.

The young girl bit her lip before reluctantly lifting her gaze to the unfamiliar guest. White hair. Red eyes. Her frown deepened. She turned away from him and muttered under her breath. “I don’t like him…”

Emma blinked, her surprise momentary before a soft laugh escaped her. “How do you know that? You haven’t even met him!”

“He looks… weird.” Lovina huffed, her defiance clear.

The Empress sighed, though there was no real frustration in it. She had grown accustomed to the girl’s reluctance and, of course, couldn’t force her to do anything against her will. Still, at the very least, Lovina should offer a proper greeting—it was only polite.

“Alright, but can you at least curtsy? He is the King of the Germanic Nation, after all. It’s good manners.” She punctuated the request with a gentle smile.

Lovina hesitated, her eyes flicking between Emma and the red-eyed man she was supposed to acknowledge. Her reluctance was palpable, but—

“Fine…” she muttered with a small sigh, her voice barely audible.

The Empress’s face brightened at the words, her expression softening. She gave Lovina another encouraging stroke on her forearm, paired with a warm smile, before turning back toward Antonio and Gilbert.

Lovina stood still for a moment longer, her gaze lingering on the ground, before she finally, albeit with clear reluctance, stepped forward.

She climbed down the few stairs leading to the thrones and positioned herself beside the Empress, her gaze still fixed on the marble tiles beneath her feet.

Now, standing right before him, Gilbert’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer. And then it hit him—he finally understood why the girl seemed so familiar. She was the spitting image of that Italian noble girl his cousin had brought back after securing sovereignty over northern Italy…

Feliciana.

His cousin, Roderich, the Austrian Emperor, and his wife, Elizabeta, had grown quite fond of the younger former princess. Gilbert could swear they treated her like a daughter. He had met her a few times himself—she was bubbly, polite, and kind. No wonder those two had taken such a liking to her. She was also a hard worker, always offering a hand to court members, to Elizabeta, or even to Roderich himself. And she was smart, having picked up German quickly enough to hold decent conversations with those around her.

Ludwig, Gilbert’s younger brother, had mentioned her often. The boy spent a lot of time in Austria, learning from their cousin, and frequently found himself in her company. Right now, Ludwig was back home, holding down responsibilities in Gilbert’s absence. The young prince was responsible to a fault, always striving for perfection. (Not that Gilbert would ever admit the boy had developed such traits on his own. No, of course, he got that from his older brother. Or so Gilbert liked to tell himself.)

But now, bringing his attention back to the present, everything clicked. This girl was Feliciana’s sister—her older sister, at that. The resemblance between them was undeniable. Though their hair and eye colors differed, the likeness between them was striking…

As Gilbert continued to study her, the girl finally lifted her gaze from the floor, revealing hazel eyes—green with flecks of brown. She met his gaze for a brief moment, looking at him intensely, as though she, too, were studying him, before bowing her head in a formal curtsy.

Gilbert, shaking himself from his reverie, nodded in acknowledgment. He straightened, attempting to present a more formal and composed appearance, but his gaze couldn’t help but linger on her eyes. That greenish-brown hue… it was strangely captivating, to say the least.

She has beautiful eyes… the thought crossed the young King’s mind before his friend’s voice pulled his attention back.

“This is Lovina Vargas,” Emma began, gesturing toward the girl beside her with a hand. “You may already know her as the eldest former princess of Italy, but here, she is officially known as my lady-in-waiting.” She then turned to the girl with a small smile. “She’s such a sweet and dedicated young lady.” Emma seemed genuinely enamored with her.

Lovina, noticing that the Empress had clearly mentioned her and was now gazing in her direction, turned her head slightly and met her eyes. She blinked, wide-eyed, as if confused…

Gilbert took note of that but didn’t dwell on it for long, as he had other matters to attend to. He nodded at his friend’s words, his gaze lingering on the girl. Sweet and dedicated, he thought, mentally repeating Emma’s words. Just like her sister, he mused, before offering her a small smile to show he was friendly and meant no ill intent.

Seeing this, Emma gently urged Lovina forward. “Come now, say hello. Don’t be shy.” she encouraged in Spanish.

Lovina, turning her attention back to the white-haired man before her, pursed her lips and let out a small sigh before reluctantly mumbling, “Hello…” in Spanish.

Gilbert was momentarily confused as to why she hadn’t greeted him in English, but he brushed it off. After all, it was just a greeting—it didn’t matter much which language it was in. Instead, he went ahead and introduced himself. “A pleasure,” he responded, his usual grin appearing. “Gilbert Beilschmidt’s the name. I’m the King of the Germanic nation.” Like he had with Emma, he made a small gesture, offering to kiss the brunette’s hand. Princess or not (since she was no longer one), it was still good manners. Besides, Gilbert was known for his charm.

He waited a moment—perhaps two—for the girl to offer her hand, but, surprisingly, it never came. Gilbert blinked, confused, and glanced back at her face, unsure of her hesitation… but when he met her gaze…

Lovina was simply staring at him, brow furrowed.

…Okay, that was odd.

But no matter! No problem there! Perhaps she simply didn’t like physical contact with people she had just met. That was reasonable, and he shouldn’t force it upon her. Besides, he could be just as charming with his words. No need for actions! That’s what made him so awesome.

Undeterred, Gilbert lowered the hand he had offered and shifted his posture to something more formal. “Miss Vargas,” he began, smiling at the girl, “It’s quite striking how much you resemble your sister. Or, well, since she’s the younger one, I suppose she resembles you.” That ought to make Lovina feel more at ease. It always worked on him when people insisted Ludwig resembled him—it made him feel so proud. Since Lovina was an older sibling too, she could take it as a compliment as well.

He glanced at her face once more, more confidently this time, but that confidence quickly gave way to confusion as Lovina continued to stare at him, her expression unreadable.

Alright. This was getting rather strange… maybe she truly felt uncomfortable with his presence and couldn’t muster any other reaction. Ouch, well, that was a bit insulting…

Instead of continuing to dwell on something he clearly didn’t understand, Gilbert decided to simply ask. “Is… everything alright, Miss Vargas?”

At that, or more specifically, when she heard her name again, Lovina blinked at him, her hazel eyes still filled with confusion. Before she could respond, Emma let out a small chuckle and waved her hand dismissively. Antonio wore a similar knowing smile.

“I should’ve mentioned this earlier…” Emma admitted. “Lovina doesn’t speak English. Well… not yet, at least.”

Gilbert blinked in surprise. Oh, he mused to himself. That explained a lot. She probably hadn’t understood a single word he’d said. No wonder she looked so confused…

“Well, that’s fine,” he said, shaking his head. “What languages does she speak? German?” Given that she had been a princess, girls of her station usually spoke foreign languages. German was fairly common. If that was her language of choice, communication would be much easier between them...

Emma shot him a small, uncertain look before shaking her head. “Ah, no…” she replied. “Lovina speaks Italian and French quite well, and she’s been learning Spanish recently. She’s become rather fluent. But beyond that…” She glanced at Antonio, who nodded in agreement with his wife.

“Sì, it’s true,” he confirmed. “I’ve just arranged for an English tutor. Her lessons should begin soon, but for now, she doesn’t understand what you just said.”

Well, that was… rather inconvenient. No common language between them.

Still, Gilbert wasn’t one to sulk over something like this. No matter, he thought, there are plenty of ways to get one’s point across. With a shrug, he turned back to the couple. “No problem! One of you just translate what I said to her.” he replied with a small smile.

The Empress found that to be a great idea. She nodded and turned to Lovina, beginning to translate the white-haired King’s words into Spanish. At first, Lovina’s expression remained unreadable—almost disinterested, if Gilbert was being honest. But… as Emma reached the final part of the translation, something abruptly changed.

Her eyes widened slightly, and surprise visibly flickered across her face. She turned her full attention to Gilbert, staring at him as if she couldn’t quite believe what she had just heard.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. Was she that shocked to learn he was the King of the Germanic Nation? Hah! Of course, she was. He smirked to himself, already imagining the thoughts racing through her head. She must be in awe, utterly starstruck by the presence of such a powerful and formidable ruler. Yes, that had to be it.

But… he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Before Gilbert could even react, Lovina stepped forward. Then another step. And another—until she was uncomfortably close.

Gilbert stiffened, caught off guard by her sudden advance and the intensity in her gaze. Her wide hazel eyes searched his face, almost urgent, desperate in a way. Then she—

“Tu... Tu conosci mia sorella?!” (You… You know my sister?!)

Her voice rang through the throne room, loud enough to catch the attention of nearby soldiers and court attendants. The red-eyed man blinked in surprise. What… what did she just say? Before he could even begin to process the foreign words, let alone respond, the former Italian princess pressed forward, demanding:

“Quando l'hai incontrata? Sta bene? Dimmi!” (When did you meet her? Is she alright? Tell me!)

Her expression had shifted from surprise to outright frustration, her brows knitting together.

Gilbert glanced off to the side before looking at her again, his eyes narrowing slightly as his confusion deepened with every passing second.

…What?

The words came fast and sharp, but they meant nothing to him. He couldn’t understand them.

Before he could even attempt to make sense of what she was saying, Antonio quickly stepped in. He placed a firm but gentle hand on Lovina’s arm, pulling her back. Concern was etched on his face as he looked at her.

“Lovina… ¿qué te pasa? ¿Por qué le gritaste así a nuestro invitado?” (Lovina… what’s the matter? Why did you yell at our guest like that?) Antonio asked the young girl, his confusion mirroring Gilbert’s at her sudden outburst.

Lovina’s eyes flickered toward the Emperor, and for a brief moment, she seemed to want to say something. But there was hesitation, a strange reluctance in her stance. Her gaze darted to Gilbert once more, though this time it felt different—something clearly unsettled her as her eyes moved over his figure, more specifically, his face. She looked at him as though he held answers to something she desperately needed to know. But... answers to what? Gilbert had no idea.

Then, as though she suddenly realized something, her gaze shifted downward, her lips pressing into a thin line. She swallowed whatever words were on the tip of her tongue, her shoulders hunched in a small gesture of defeat. Lovina bowed her head slightly toward Gilbert, her movement almost apologetic, though she didn’t say a word. She quickly turned to Antonio, and with a hesitant gesture, she tugged at his robe.

“…No es nada,” (It’s nothing) she murmured, her voice quieter now, almost as though she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else. Antonio and Emma exchanged a glance, both sensing the strain in her tone. “Yo sólo… deseo ir a mi habitación…” (I just… wish to go to my room…) She finished her sentence, then pulled back her hand, placing it over the other one before bowing slightly to the Emperor.

Antonio’s expression showed he could tell something was troubling the young girl, though he seemed unsure of what exactly. “Muy bien.” (Very well.) he finally said, his voice tinged with reluctance, but he didn’t challenge her request. He then turned to his wife, gesturing toward Lovina with a slight inclination of his head.

Emma nodded, a small frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Emma te acompañará.” (Emma will escort you.)

Lovina didn’t argue. She didn’t say anything more. She simply turned, walking beside the Empress, who placed a gentle, reassuring hand on her back. Emma’s eyes were filled with concern, though she remained silent as they walked toward one of the doors near the thrones.

Gilbert watched them leave, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. The sudden shift in Lovina’s demeanor didn’t sit right with him… and the fact that he couldn’t pinpoint why only added to his uncertainty. The only thing he knew for sure was that something had triggered it—and from what he had seen, it was directly related to him…

Before they reached the door, Lovina stopped.

She glanced back over her shoulder, locking eyes with Gilbert for a brief moment.

Desperation flickered in her gaze—fleeting, but unmistakable.

Why?

Gilbert stiffened. Just what about him had managed to startle her this badly? His mind raced, grasping at possibilities, but before he could settle on one, Lovina turned away and disappeared beyond the threshold.

He remained still, replaying the moment in his head. He hadn’t understood a single word she had said, nor could he begin to unravel the meaning behind her reaction—but that look…

That look stayed with him.

It unsettled him in a way he couldn’t quite place.

What had it meant?

He wanted to know. Needed to know. But all he could do was stand there, wondering.

Damn… he really ought to start learning Spanish…

“Oh,”

A sigh suddenly pulled him from his thoughts.

Gilbert blinked, shaking himself from his daze as he turned to find Antonio standing nearby, arms crossed, his expression contemplative.

“Sorry about that, Gil,” Antonio said, shaking his head. “I honestly don’t know why she reacted that way… She spoke too fast for me to catch much of her Italian.” He sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to shake off the lingering tension.

“This is a first. She’s usually very reserved when meeting new people. I wonder what set her off…” He shot Gilbert a subtle side glance before turning to face him fully. “I’m not blaming you, though! Don’t worry.” He waved a hand dismissively, though a flicker of concern crossed his face before he exhaled and forced a small, tired smile—clearly not wanting to burden his friend with his worries.

“Anyway,” he said abruptly, steering the conversation elsewhere. “There’s a room ready for you in the northern wing. After dinner, I’ll have someone escort you and your belongings there. You will be joining us, won’t you?”

Gilbert could tell Antonio was still unsettled—he wasn’t the only one—but it wasn’t his place to pry. Instead, he returned the smile.

“Ah, yes. If you’ll have me.”

Antonio’s grin came more easily this time.

“¡Por supuesto!” (Of course!)

After that, Antonio seemed to relax, and the two of them spent a good while catching up. Conversation flowed easily, as it always did between old friends, but in the back of Gilbert’s mind, the look the former Italian princess had given him lingered.

It puzzled him.

And, more than that, it made him feel strangely at fault.

Something he had said—or hadn’t—had clearly triggered her reaction. He just didn’t know what. And he was no fan of guilt gnawing at him over something he didn’t even understand.

Then dinner came, and things shifted again.

Emma leaned in and whispered something to Antonio. Whatever it was, it left him visibly unsettled. Gilbert barely had time to wonder before he caught another problem across the table—Lovina.

She was glaring at him.

Not in open hostility, but not in anything resembling friendliness either. It was sharp. Assessing.

Studying him.

And for what?

He had nothing to hide, but the constant scrutiny made his skin itch. Worse still, he couldn’t even confront her about it—she didn’t understand a word of any language he spoke. He doubted Antonio or Emma would be any help either. Whatever troubled Lovina had clearly unsettled them, too, and he doubted they’d confide in him. Not when he was still an outsider in all of this.

Yet she clearly wanted answers.

The problem was, he didn’t even know the question.

It needled at him the entire evening, until he finally excused himself earlier than usual—something he almost never did. He wished Antonio and Emma a good night, promising they’d continue their discussions in the morning. Then, after a brief hesitation, he turned to Lovina.

“…Good night, Miss Vargas.”

She blinked, caught off guard. As if she hadn’t expected him to acknowledge her at all.

For a split second, something flickered in her expression—then it was gone.

Gilbert didn’t wait for a response.

Without another word, he left.

Once in his chambers, Gilbert dismissed the members of his court for the night, not wanting to be surrounded by people. They obeyed without question, and soon he found himself alone in the grand room. He quickly shed his heavy layers, leaving only his dress shirt and trousers, before collapsing onto the bed. Lying on his back, he stared at the overly ornate ceiling, letting his thoughts run in circles.

What had he said that made her react that way?

No matter how much he replayed the evening, no clear answer came to mind. Eventually, he sighed, rolled onto his side, and decided to put it aside for now. He’d think more about it in the morning when he was well-rested.

He’d figure it out. He was sure of it.

After all, he was a King. A soldier, too. He had won wars. Surely, he could handle something as simple as understanding what was bothering the eldest former princess of Italy.

…Right?

Chapter Text

Gilbert woke up late the next morning. He wasn’t sure of the exact time, but the brightness flooding the room told him it was well past dawn. Well, he’d had a long journey—good enough excuse, he decided, before finally dragging himself out of bed.

He called for his attendants to help him dress, slipping into a fresh set of regal attire. As expected, they insisted on staying by his side for the rest of the day, but he waved them off, telling them to go about their business unless he truly needed them. He did not need constant reminders of what he could and couldn’t do, what might be politically improper, or what could spark gossip in the Spanish court. He had enough of that back home. At the very least, this trip ought to give him a break from all that.

After sending his attendants away, Gilbert stepped out of his room and wandered through the northern wing. He had visited Antonio plenty of times, yet somehow, he still found it difficult not to get lost in such a vast castle. His own residence was large, but Antonio was an Emperor, not just a King, his castle was nearly twice the size of Gilbert’s, and the white-haired royal had yet to master its layout.

Eventually, he reached the main hallway but halted just before crossing it. Servants and guards bustled about, and if they spotted him, they wouldn’t leave him alone. No doubt they’d swarm him with: "Your Highness, allow me to—" "Your Majesty, shall I—" "Your Highness, let me—" and all the other pleasantries that would only turn his morning into a headache. Again, during this trip, he wanted to avoid anything related to duties and responsibilities.

So, he took a detour, strolling through the quieter parts of the castle while he still could. He knew it wouldn’t last—once the court was in full motion, someone was bound to notice him. Word would spread, and soon enough, both Antonio’s attendants and his own would come flocking. But until then, at least, he had a little peace to enjoy in these halls he could never quite memorize, despite all his visits.

He walked through another, narrower hallway lined with doors on either side. Statues and paintings adorned the walls, many depicting things he recognized as favorites of Antonio and Emma. At one point, he even spotted a large portrait of Emma’s older brother. The resemblance was there, but their personalities couldn’t have been more different. Emma was warm and generous, while her brother was cold and rather stingy... How they were related was beyond him.

Gilbert’s attention soon drifted to the many doors around him. With nothing better to do, he began opening them one by one, peeking inside.

The first room was a drawing room. Nothing out of the ordinary. He shut the door and moved on. The next door revealed a vast library. He enjoyed reading, but that wasn’t on his agenda right now, so he swiftly closed it and continued. Door after door, he found himself either interested or unimpressed by what lay inside.

But as he neared the end of the hallway, something changed. A faint sound reached his ears. It was subtle… yet distinct… some kind of music. He couldn’t quite place the type, but it was definitely there, drifting through the silence.

Intrigued, Gilbert abandoned the idea of exploring more rooms and instead focused on the distant melody. He followed the sound down the long corridor, each step bringing it into sharper clarity. As he neared the end of the hallway, he recognized it. Piano music!

The way it resonated, the way it filled the air, there was no doubt it came from a piano. His gaze swept over the remaining doors at the end of the hall, settling on one that was slightly ajar.

That had to be it.

Curious, he stepped closer. At first, he couldn’t tell if the piece was any good, but as the music grew louder, he realized that it genuinely sounded pleasant… The melody carried a calming, almost haunting quality, with an undercurrent of sorrow woven through its notes. It was mesmerizing. And yet, despite his broad knowledge of music, he couldn’t place it.

Was it a new Spanish composition? It couldn’t have been an old one… he knew most of them, and none sounded like this. It didn’t resemble German, Austrian, or even French styles either. Then what was it? The King pondered as he moved closer. When he reached the door, he hesitated, not wanting to startle whoever was inside. Peering through the narrow gap, he caught sight of a grand white piano and a woman’s hands gliding effortlessly over the keys…

What truly caught his attention, however, was the absence of sheet music. There was nothing on the stand, yet she played flawlessly, as if the song lived in her very fingertips. Gilbert wasn’t overly fond of pianos. His cousin had pestered him with them to the point of irritation… but he knew enough to recognize skill when he saw it. A piece that sounded this moving had to be difficult to master. And yet, she was playing it by heart.

Impressive… and curious.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Gilbert carefully pushed the door open just a little more, moving slowly and silently to avoid making a sound. Not that it would have mattered—whoever was playing was so deeply immersed in the melody that she likely wouldn’t have noticed…

He peered inside, expecting, perhaps, to see Emma. This was, after all, the wing where her and Antonio’s chambers were located. But that theory dissolved the moment his eyes landed on a head of dark brown hair.

Dark brown hair, slightly tanned skin, and greenish-brown eyes, focused intently on the piano keys…

Gilbert blinked, startled. Hold on a minute… He knew that face…

It was the same girl from yesterday—the one who had spoken to him in a language he hadn’t understood. The same girl who had kept stealing glances at him during dinner…

Lovina…

Gilbert nearly stumbled into the room completely, his surprise throwing him off balance. He caught himself just in time, gripping the door handle. Phew. That had been close.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus as his gaze swept the dimly lit room. His eyes returned to the girl at the piano… Yup, there was no mistaking it. It really was her. The former Italian princess.

She was utterly absorbed in her playing, her fingers moving over the keys with practiced ease. Yet, despite the concentration in her posture, there was something else in her expression… something troubled. The same look she’d had the night before.

Gilbert’s brows furrowed. Was she still upset?

He barely noticed the way his gaze drifted over the rest of the room, but when it did, a different thought occupied his mind. There was no one else here. No handmaidens. No attendants hovering nearby. No voices offering quiet praise for the girl’s skill. Strange.

Usually, young women of her station were never left alone, especially not in a setting like this. An older woman, someone to chaperone, to protect her dignity, should have been present. The idea of her being entirely unaccompanied was—

Wait. Hold on a moment.

The realization hit him all at once.

I am a man.

Gilbert immediately let go of the handle and took a sharp step back, eyes darting up and down the corridor. If anyone saw him here, lingering outside the door of an unchaperoned young lady… it could be bad. For her, especially.

I should go.

With a small sigh, he raked a hand through his unruly hair, though it did little to neaten the mess. Antonio and Emma were probably wondering where he was anyway. No sense in getting caught up in something that wasn’t his business…

He turned and started walking, letting the soft strains of the piano fade behind him.

But with every step, the thought gnawed at him.
Lovina’s reaction the night before.

Something about him had unsettled her. Her hesitation. The words she’d spoken in that language he hadn’t understood. It had been too pointed, too direct to be a coincidence…

And even now, her expression was…

He stopped in his tracks.

Turning his head slightly, he looked over his shoulder at the cracked door.

Now that he thought about it, this was an opportunity—an opportunity to ask Lovina what, from what he had said, had troubled her so deeply that she still seemed off, even a day later. Neither Antonio nor Emma were around. No one was. And the not-knowing was gnawing at him, eating him alive…

But…

Could he even get his point across?

He frowned, considering. She didn’t speak German, nor English for that matter. He didn’t speak Italian. But… maybe he could mimic things? Use the most basic words in English? Some of those were probably similar to Italian or Spanish, right?

Like… music.

He snapped his fingers. That was a word Antonio had used before—música, wasn’t it? If there were more words like that, he could work something out. And if he gestured while speaking, she might understand.

Brilliant. I am a genius.

But before he could charge back down the hall, another thought struck him.

What about propriety?

A young lady and a man, alone together… under normal circumstances, that could be a disaster for her reputation. But…

There was no one here.

No watchful eyes. No nosy maids. No court members lurking in the shadows, waiting for gossip.

And besides, he wasn’t about to do anything foolish. He’d keep his distance, mind his manners, and if she so much as looked uncomfortable, he’d leave. It wasn’t as though he intended to stay long—he just needed answers.

Yeah. That was a solid plan.

Rolling his shoulders, he turned back toward the room, walking confidently this time. The piano grew louder again as he approached the door.
He hesitated just briefly before knocking—lightly at first, then louder when she didn’t respond.

Still nothing.

She must not have heard him over the music…

Well.

There was only one thing left to do.

Gilbert inhaled, placed a hand on the door, and pushed it open.

At first, Lovina didn’t seem to notice him, her fingers still pressing the piano keys as she played the same melancholic tune, her face fixed in that familiar, troubled expression. Gilbert stood awkwardly in the doorframe, hesitant to startle her, hoping she’d notice his presence before he had to make himself known.

But as the seconds stretched into a full minute, and he still hadn’t been acknowledged, he felt absolutely foolish. Well, I suppose I’ll have to make the first move…

He brought a hand to his mouth and cleared his throat, the sound cutting softly through the music filling the room.

Lovina immediately stopped playing. Her fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before she lifted her gaze. Her eyes swept around the room, as if searching for the source of the sound, before settling on him in the doorway.

Gilbert, seeing her notice him, gave her a small smile and a casual wave. He figured it was the best way to show her he meant no harm. Hopefully, it would ease any tension she might have.

But the reaction he received wasn’t quite what he’d anticipated.

Lovina’s eyes widened in shock. Her hands quickly moved to shut the fall board of the piano, and she stood, gripping the fabric of her dress as if startled. She stared at him, wide-eyed, her expression caught between surprise and uncertainty.

Her gaze flickered around the room nervously, before returning to him. For a brief moment, she just stood there, her mouth slightly open, as though unsure how to proceed.

Gilbert felt a pang of guilt. Damn. I should have thought this through more carefully. He hadn’t meant to frighten her…

But then…

Unexpectedly, Lovina’s shocked expression shifted, a flicker of something determined, though hesitant, taking its place. Her brows furrowed slightly, and her lips pressed together.

Gilbert blinked, confused. What was she doing?

Without warning, she stepped forward until she, too, stood in the doorway.

Wait. What?

For a moment, he just stood there, his eyes darting between her and the empty corridor behind him. They were both too close to the door—too close to each other. And if someone happened to walk by… this could look bad.

He gave her a small, reassuring smile again, hoping to convey that he had no ill intentions, and then held up a hand between them. “Can I come inside?” he asked, pointing first at himself and then to the space behind her.

Lovina tilted her head, squinting slightly as if trying to decipher his words. Gilbert watched her closely, praying she understood the gesture.
After a few moments, she nodded—small but definite—and then turned, walking back toward the center of the room.

Gilbert let out a quiet sigh of relief. Thank goodness. At least he’d managed to communicate that much. It meant there was a chance, however small, that he could get the answers he needed.

He stepped fully into the room, his hand reaching for the door handle. He started to close it but paused, glancing back at Lovina, unsure if he should shut the door entirely.

“I’ll close the door. Is that alright with you?” he asked, gesturing toward the door as if to make sure she was comfortable with it.

Lovina looked at him, a small crease forming between her brows as she processed his question. But once again, she seemed to grasp his intent through his gestures. She nodded, albeit with a bit of confusion still lingering in her expression.

With her approval, Gilbert closed the door softly behind him, feeling a slight tension lift from his shoulders. Now, perhaps, they could talk. Well, 'talk'... more or less—uh, attempt to...

The red-eyed man stepped away from the door and joined Lovina in the middle of the room. But he made sure to keep some distance between them.

He wanted to attempt speaking again, to find the simplest way to phrase his words and what gestures might help him get his point across. But before he could even start, Lovina seemed to have had the same idea—except her approach was entirely different.

Very different.

She stepped forward again, much closer than before, as if the idea of communicating from a normal distance was completely absurd. Gilbert barely had time to react before she furrowed her brows and—

“Come conosci mia sorella? Huh? Quando l'hai incontrata? E' al sicuro?” (How do you know my sister? Huh? When did you meet her? Is she safe?)

The sudden burst of words caught him completely off guard. Her voice was sharp, urgent. She clenched her hands into fists and moved them up and down, as if demanding immediate answers.

Answers… he couldn’t give.

Because he hadn’t understood a single word she’d just said!

Gilbert blinked, thrown off by the unexpected outburst. He put his hands up and waved them dismissively, trying to signal that he had no idea what she was saying. “I’m sorry, uh, Miss Vargas… I didn’t quite catch that…” He shot her an awkward look, unsure of what else to say.

Lovina narrowed her eyes, staring at him for a long second. She clearly hadn’t understood much of what he’d said either, but she must have picked up on his gestures.

With a deep sigh, she stepped back, lips pursed, brows still furrowed. But the frustration on her face shifted—her expression softened into something else entirely.

Gilbert recognized it instantly.

The same troubled look she had worn the day before.

Her brows drawn together, her mouth turned down, her hazel eyes clouded with worry.

He slowly lowered his hands, watching her carefully, confusion growing in his chest.

She was looking at him like that again.

And that only made him more uncertain.

Just what was she trying to tell him?

“Mia sorella…” Lovina murmured suddenly, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her dress, just as they had when she’d risen from the piano bench. Her gaze shifted to the side, her expression troubled.

Gilbert tilted his head slightly, furrowing his brows. He didn’t know what exactly had upset her, but it was clear it had something to do with this “sorella” she kept mentioning.

“Sorella?” he repeated awkwardly, his accent absolutely terrible, but he was more concerned with seeing how she reacted.

Almost immediately, Lovina’s head snapped back toward him, her troubled expression shifting into something else—surprise? Hope? Expectation? Her olive eyes almost seemed to glimmer for a moment, though he wasn’t entirely sure. What he was sure of, however, was that her mood had suddenly shifted from distress to something far more urgent.

Lovina nodded—this time with far more vigor. “Sì!” she exclaimed, that determined look returning to her face as she raised her fists once more. “Mia sorella!”

Okay… Gilbert scratched the back of his head, turning the words over in his mind. ‘Sì’ meant yes—that much he understood. So she was confirming that this “sorella” was connected to him somehow… but what was “sorella” even supposed to mean? It didn’t sound remotely familiar…

He glanced back at Lovina and tried again, mimicking her last sentence as best he could. “Mia… sorella?” His pronunciation was just as awful as before, and to emphasize his confusion, he tilted his head slightly.

Lovina frowned. “No! Non tua sorella! Mia sorella! Mia!” (No! Not your sister! My sister! Mine!) She pointed at herself and mouthed the word again, more deliberately. “Mia!”

The gears in Gilbert’s mind finally started turning.

“Mia… as in ‘me’ or ‘my’… meaning you… yours?” he asked, pointing at her.

The way Lovina’s face practically lit up at that told him he was right.

“Sì! Mia sorella!” she repeated, nodding even more enthusiastically now.

Great. Two words down, one to go.

Now he just had to figure out what ‘sorella’ meant—and maybe then, he’d understand why she associated it with him.

“Alright…” Gilbert mumbled to himself, eyeing Lovina carefully before repeating, “‘Sorella’… it means…?” He gestured vaguely, hoping she’d catch on.

Lovina furrowed her brows, watching him intently, but didn’t seem to understand what he was asking.

He sighed. This isn’t as easy as I thought.

Trying again, he simplified it. “Meaning…” he said, slowly and deliberately. “What’s the meaning of the word?”

Lovina still looked confused.

Gilbert exhaled sharply, racking his brain for another approach. Maybe a synonym? It was worth a shot.

He cleared his throat. “The… sense.”

That, at last, seemed to register. Her frown eased, her lips parting slightly in realization.

She blinked at him before carefully repeating, “Sense…” Her voice was slow, as if feeling out the word on her tongue. Then, after a pause, she murmured. “Senso?”

Gilbert perked up at that. Yes!

“Il senso della parola ‘sorella’?” (The meaning of the word 'sister'?) she pressed on.

Now, he didn’t catch much of what came after ‘senso,’ but from the way she said it, he understood that she had grasped what he was asking. More importantly, ‘sense’ was ‘senso’ in Italian.

Progress.

Gilbert grinned, feeling surprisingly triumphant over such a small victory. “Yes! Sense—uh, senso!” he repeated with a nod.

Lovina’s expression remained serious, but she gave a small nod in return.

Now all he needed… was for her to give him the missing piece.

Just one word…!

Yet… the world seemed intent on keeping him from discovering its meaning, as an all-too-predictable turn of events swiftly unfolded. A sharp knock shattered the silence, echoing through the quiet room. Both Gilbert and Lovina’s heads snapped toward the door, their eyes meeting for a brief, startled moment before shifting back to the unwelcome interruption.

Then, a voice suddenly spoke from the other side.

“¿Señorita Vargas? ¿Has terminado de tocar el piano?” (Miss Vargas? Have you finished playing the piano?)

It was an older woman’s voice—gentle, yet firm.

Gilbert didn’t need to understand Spanish to grasp the situation. The quiet shift of the door handle—click—was more than enough.

“¿Puedo entrar?” (Can I come inside?)

Oh. Damn.

His pulse dropped.

He took a step back, glancing around the room in search of a solution—any solution. But there was none, only the polished wooden floor beneath him and the damning reality of the situation pressing down on his chest. His gaze darted to Lovina. Her expression mirrored his own, wide-eyed and frozen, but perhaps even more alarmed.

Double damn!

This was exactly what he’d feared—being caught alone with her, behind a closed door, with no explanation that wouldn’t sound utterly damning. He’d known it was a risk. He’d even warned himself before turning back… But in his reckless determination to speak with Lovina, he had completely ignored the possibility that this could actually happen! He wasn’t prepared for this at all! No plan B. Not even a plan A!

Lovina turned to him, her gaze practically screaming, ‘What do we do?!’ He didn’t need to understand Italian to read the panic on her face.

This was his fault. Entirely his fault. He was the one who had started this… thing. He had practically dragged her into it. She had just been playing the piano—minding her own business—before he barged in with his questions and shattered her peace. So, in other words, he needed to fix this. But… how?!

Think. Think, Gilbert.

His eyes darted around the room, searching desperately for a solution—until he saw it.

A large dresser stood in the corner, tall and sturdy, its shadow stretching just far enough to obscure him. His stomach twisted. It was a ridiculous plan, one crafted on the spot, one that could backfire just as quickly as he’d come up with it…

But it was the only one he had.

Making a split-second decision, he pointed at himself, then at the dresser, mouthing, ‘I’ll hide’.

Lovina blinked at him, still processing, but he was already moving. Silently, he slipped toward the dresser, pressing himself against the wall and ensuring his entire form disappeared behind it.

Not exactly the most dignified thing I’ve ever done…

But now wasn’t the time for dignity.

The door swung open.

He held his breath.

The steady click of heels against the wooden floor told him the handmaiden had stepped inside.

If she came too close, if she had business near the dresser, if she so much as glanced in his direction—

This could go very, very badly.

“Ah, señorita Vargas. ¡Después de todo, usted está aquí!” (Ah, Miss Vargas. You are in here, after all!)

The older woman’s voice rang out with cheerful ease—though Gilbert hadn’t the slightest clue what she had just said.

“La falta de respuesta realmente me hizo creer que ya había abandonado esta sala de música.” (The lack of a response really made me believe you had already vacated this music room.)

Her tone remained pleasant. She hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

Gilbert let out a slow, quiet exhale.

Then, Lovina spoke.

“Ah, sí, yo... yo, uh, terminé de tocar... el piano...” (Ah, yes, I... I, uh, finished playing... the piano...)

Her words were hesitant, unsteady. Even without understanding, Gilbert could tell she was struggling.

Just politely send her away, he willed. That’s all we need…

He still hadn’t gotten his answers.

But then—

The handmaiden spoke again, and something in her tone made Gilbert tense.

“Ah, bueno, entonces, si terminaste aquí, el Emperador y la Emperatriz han solicitado tu presencia.” (Ah, well then, if you're done here, the Emperor and Empress have requested your presence.)

Gilbert stiffened.

The Emperor and Empress?

He heard the soft creak of the door—was she pushing it open fully? Was she leaving?

Maybe. But he wasn’t ready to exhale just yet…

“¿Mi presencia?” (My presence?)

Lovina’s voice rang out, confused—and hesitant.

Gilbert listened closely. The rustle of fabric. The faint clack of heels. A small step back. Not leaving. Just… hesitating.

That had to be Lovina.

But… why was she hesitating? Was it something the handmaiden had said about Antonio and Emma? He had caught the words Emperor and Empress—but beyond that, he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t understand enough to piece it together…

He clenched his jaw, frustration creeping in. God, he thought bitterly, I should have listened to my old man and learned another language—preferably Spanish. At least then, I wouldn’t be struggling to understand what the hell is going on…

“Sì, señorita Vargas,” (Yes, Miss Vargas,) the older woman replied. “Tu presencia.” (Your presence.)

“Ah... yo, bueno... ¿ahora mismo?” (Ah... I, well... right now?) Lovina stammered, her voice betraying her reluctance.

Gilbert couldn’t see her, but he could hear it—the hesitation woven into her tone. What exactly was the maid asking of her? His frown deepened. He just hoped it had nothing to do with Lovina having to leave the room…

Then, a shift. The maid’s voice took on a sharper edge, like the matter she was addressing held great importance.

“Sí, ahora mismo. No quisiera molestar a Sus Majestades...” (Yes, right now. I wouldn't wish to upset their Majesties...)

Her words trailed off before Lovina interrupted, though this time there was less hesitation—more acceptance.

“Ah, claro, claro,” (Ah, of course, of course) she replied, the dismissive wave of her hands almost audible. “Yo sólo...” (I just…) She faltered, as if searching for an excuse, a response—anything. But when none came, she simply resigned herself to the handmaiden’s request.

“Está bien…” (Alright…) Lovina finally muttered, a quiet sigh slipping past her lips. It was subtle, almost imperceptible—but Gilbert caught it. The sound of someone unwilling to listen, yet knowing they must…

Wait. What did that mean?

Was she staying? She hadn’t dismissed the maid, judging by her tone… Then was she leaving?

Confused and curious, Gilbert dared to peek just slightly around the dresser, his sharp gaze sweeping the room.

There was Lovina, standing near the piano. The older woman across from her was mostly obscured by the dresser, but Gilbert could make out enough to recognize her as one of the higher-ranking handmaids of the Spanish court.

The woman gave a small nod.

“Sígueme, señorita.” (Follow me, Miss.)

That was all she said before turning on her heel and walking toward the door.

For a brief moment, Gilbert assumed Lovina had sent her away—maybe asked for more time to finish playing or made up some excuse. But then…

Lovina sighed again, this time with unmistakable disappointment. Her posture dipped ever so slightly before she straightened and stepped forward.

Gilbert caught her casting a subtle glance in his direction. He half-expected her to close the door behind the maid, maybe signal to him that the coast was clear. But instead, she simply walked out.

He blinked. Wait. What?

Had she actually left?

A soft click echoed as the door shut, sealing the answer.

Gilbert remained frozen behind the dresser for a moment, listening. Footsteps faded into the distance. That was it, then. Lovina had left, duty calling her away.

Once silence settled over the room, he exhaled quietly and stepped out of his hiding place. His boots barely made a sound against the floor as he wandered toward the center of the room, lingering there, as if trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Damn.

He hadn’t gotten any answers. The conversation had been cut short. Everything he had planned to ask Lovina—everything he needed to know—remained unsaid.

He sighed, more to himself than anything else. No use dwelling on it now.

Surely, there would be another chance to speak with her. Though, perhaps not alone this time. Maybe with others present, so that… well, so he wouldn’t find himself hiding behind a dresser again.

His gaze flicked to the piece of furniture, and despite himself, a quiet chuckle escaped. What a ridiculous situation…

Shaking his head, he strode toward the door. He cracked it open just enough to peek into the hallway, scanning for any sign of movement.

Empty.

Satisfied, he stepped out, closing the door softly behind him.

With quick, purposeful strides, he made his way down the corridor, heading toward the main hall.
It was about time he made his presence known—before someone in the Spanish court started wondering where the Germanic King had disappeared to.

Well… assuming I can find my way back, he thought with a slight frown. He couldn’t quite remember which door—or was it another hallway?—had led him here in the first place…

Chapter Text

By the time Gilbert stepped into the main hall, he had already drawn the attention of several Spanish courtiers bustling about. As soon as they spotted him, they quickly flocked around him, peppering him with questions about his whereabouts and informing him that His Imperial Majesty had been looking for him. He wasn’t surprised… but this time, he didn’t refuse when the courtiers offered to escort him. He had no desire to wander aimlessly and get lost again.

With them leading the way, it didn’t take long before he found himself in one of the castle’s many salons. There, as anticipated, were Antonio and Emma. But beside them sat someone unexpected. Gilbert’s eyes landed on her, widening in surprise.

Lovina?

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Only moments ago, she had disappeared with the handmaid, and he hadn't expected her to reappear here. He quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to show how startled he was by her presence. Yet, even without looking at her directly, he could feel her eyes on him—perhaps just as surprised to see him?

He hadn't expected to see her so soon after their earlier encounter. Then again, perhaps he should have. The handmaid who had escorted Lovina out of the music room had mentioned something about the Emperor and Empress. Clearly, they’d summoned her. And here they were—Antonio and Emma, seated in this very room…

Yet, as he observed them, an unwelcome thought crept in...

Had Lovina disclosed what had occurred earlier?

The very idea made him feel faint. Was that why Antonio had been looking for him? The courtiers had mentioned that His Imperial Majesty wished to speak with him—was this what he wanted to discuss?! Could it be that Lovina had mentioned his intrusion—how he had barged into a room where she was alone, unchaperoned? She wouldn’t even need to mention that they had only tried to talk. The mere fact that he had been alone with her, without anyone else around, would be bad enough!

That would explain Antonio’s sudden desire to speak with him… But… if that were the case, it certainly didn’t cast him in a good light… not at all. He could only imagine how it must’ve looked from their perspective. His actions had been blunt, reckless… even scandalous. What kind of man walks in on a girl alone in a room? And he wasn’t just any man… he was a King! He should’ve known better!

Yet, if Lovina had spoken up, perhaps he couldn’t entirely blame her. She was, after all, young. Maybe his attempt at conversation in such an intimate space had startled her, even if she had ultimately welcomed it. Still, hadn’t they been on the same page? She had stepped closer repeatedly, signaling a mutual desire to talk—at least that was what he believed… or so he assumed.

His fingers twitched at his sides, anxiety creeping in. He had no idea what to expect from Antonio or Emma. Would they be angry? Would they suspect that he had overstepped with the former princess? No—they knew he wasn’t that sort of man. Yet, the situation nearly painted a different picture…

Come on, Lovina, he thought, forcing his nerves down. Don’t make me lose my friends’ trust over this…

Antonio’s voice suddenly pulled him from his internal panic.

“Gil!” he exclaimed, his tone as bright and cheerful as ever. There was no trace of anger or disappointment—nothing to suggest that Antonio was upset in the slightest.

Gilbert forced himself to meet his friend's gaze. Antonio’s expression mirrored his tone—warm, welcoming, no hint of suspicion. He glanced at Emma, and her expression was just as pleasant. Not a trace of unease or reproach.

That was… strange.

If they cared for Lovina as much as they claimed, shouldn’t they have been at least a little displeased with him? After all, he had entered a room where she was alone, unaccompanied. It didn’t matter that nothing had happened—how could they know that? By all rights, they should have confronted him, or at least given him a wary glance…

Gilbert blinked.

Wait… did that mean—?

His gaze flickered to Lovina. She sat stiffly, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, deliberately avoiding everyone’s eyes. But the more he watched her, and the more he observed the cheerful demeanor of both the Emperor and Empress, a slow realization began to creep into his mind, curling around his thoughts like the first breath of winter…

She hadn’t told them.

Gilbert felt a mix of relief and confusion wash over him in an instant. He was relieved, of course—at least Antonio and Emma wouldn’t see him as some kind of horrible man—but also… confused. More than just a little. Why had she kept quiet? He couldn’t quite make sense of it.

He glanced at her again, squinting slightly, as if trying to decipher her. Did she think it wasn’t worth mentioning? Or maybe she just didn’t want to cause trouble? Or... was there something more to it? Perhaps it had to do with the fact that, like him, she hadn’t gotten the answers she was looking for. The way she’d asked him questions in Italian, the way she’d looked at him—it was clear she was after something only he could provide, though he didn’t even know what that was… That’s why he’d even tried to talk to her earlier.

The mystery tugged at him, and now, he found himself wondering just what she was thinking…

“I’m glad that you’re finally up!” Antonio’s cheerful voice snapped Gilbert back to the present. He quickly turned toward him, but his gaze still lingered on Lovina. She kept staring at her hands, as if she knew he was sneaking glances and was purposefully avoiding his eyes. What was going through her mind? He exhaled sharply and gave his head a slight shake, forcing himself to focus. The last thing he needed was for Antonio or Emma to catch him acting suspicious… or worse, staring at Lovina.

With that thought, he turned back to Antonio, slipping a grin back into place.

“You make it sound like I’ve been hibernating.”

Antonio and Emma chuckled, genuinely amused. No tension. No guarded glances.

Gilbert let that sink in.

So… Lovina had, in fact, not told them anything…

It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. He allowed himself a moment of disbelief—justified nerves swirling in his chest. He didn’t look at Lovina again, not wanting to give anything away. Instead, he focused on the conversation, but a quiet, relieved sigh slipped out.

Huh.

Guess they were on the same page after all.

“Well,” the Emperor spoke up again, drawing Gilbert’s full attention. “It’s good that you’re well-rested.”

“Oh?” Gilbert raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he asked.

Antonio nodded, but before he could elaborate, his wife chimed in.

“Yes! Because as our guest of honor, we were hoping you’d accompany us to the town center today!” Emma exclaimed, her excitement clear. Antonio didn’t interrupt—he simply nodded along, smiling fondly at her enthusiasm.

“A new cathedral has been under construction for quite some time, and it’s finally complete! Today is its grand opening, and we’re expected to attend the ceremony and offer our blessings.” She clasped her hands together. “We thought you might like to join us. Of course, you don’t have to stay for the whole ceremony—you’re free to wander the town center as you please.”

She punctuated her words with a bright smile.

A ceremonial opening, huh?

Gilbert had hoped to avoid such formalities on this trip… but the town center did sound fun. The Spanish knew how to enjoy themselves, especially outside the castle walls. And, well, attending the grand opening of the cathedral wouldn’t hurt—if only to keep from disappointing Antonio and Emma. They seemed in good spirits, and it would be a shame to be the one to dampen that.

“Ah, well, why not.” he said with a shrug.

Antonio and Emma’s faces lit up at his agreement.

“The town center sounds like a good time,” he continued, smirking. “and I suppose I wouldn’t mind sticking around for your little ceremony either. Not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

“Aww, how sweet of you, Gil, to join us for the cathedral’s grand opening!” Emma teased, resting a hand on her cheek and tilting her head, as if to emphasize her delight. Gilbert returned her smile.

“You know,” she went on, flicking her gaze toward Lovina. “it’s great that you’re tagging along. You’ll be able to keep Lovina here company while we’re caught up in our duties.”

Gilbert blinked, caught off guard. His gaze shifted toward the brunette, who was staring at the Empress with wide eyes—clearly confused, given that she hadn’t understood most of the conversation.

“The princess… uh, former princess,” he corrected himself, glancing at Emma before returning his focus to Lovina. “She’s coming along?”

Emma nodded. “Why, of course she is! You, of all people, must know how dull it gets being trapped in a castle for weeks on end, do you not? Lovina hasn’t seen much of Spain since she arrived a few months ago, and we think”—she gestured between herself and Antonio—“that this is the perfect opportunity for her to explore. It would be worrisome to let a young girl travel alone, but that won’t be a problem with you there!”

“Alone?” Gilbert scoffed. “Traveling with a set of guards and servants doesn’t sound very alone to me.”

Emma dismissed his remark with a swift shake of her head.

“I mean, without someone we wholeheartedly trust. Not that we distrust our court,” she added with a small laugh. “But it eases the mind far more to know that someone like you”—she pointed at him—“a man who has fought in countless wars, wandered foreign lands, and somehow remains such a great and entertaining person—our trusted friend—will be keeping an eye on her.” She gestured toward Lovina.

Gilbert followed her motion, glancing at the young brunette once more. She lifted her hazel eyes, still visibly puzzled, and met his gaze, blinking slowly. Gilbert blinked back before quickly looking away, shifting his attention back to Emma. He let out a small laugh as he mulled over her words.

“Well, I’m glad you think so highly of me…” He smirked, thumbing his chest. “I suppose I can’t deny your request—after all, where else could you find such awesomeness?”

Emma chuckled, while Antonio shook his head and patted his wife’s arm. “Don’t say things like that to his face,” he murmured. “His ego’s going to explode.”

Gilbert shot him an exaggeratedly offended look. “I heard that!”

Antonio turned back to him, grinning but otherwise ignoring the complaint.

Clearing his throat, he announced. “Well then, it’s settled! We’ll leave for the town center right after brunch.” He turned to one of his advisors and gave orders to prepare everything for the outing.

For a moment, Gilbert watched Antonio’s confident gestures before his gaze drifted back to Lovina. Now listening intently to Emma, she received explanations in Spanish—likely a translation of their conversation, though he could never be entirely sure with a language he only understood a handful of words from…

As he observed her, a thought struck him—being left in her company wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it might even be an opportunity. Perhaps they could finish the conversation they had started in the music room after all…

Brunch had passed quickly, and before long, Gilbert found himself riding toward the town center alongside Antonio, Emma, and the former Italian princess, Lovina. The four of them sat inside a large, regal carriage—Antonio and Gilbert on one side, Emma and Lovina on the other.

Antonio and Emma had dressed accordingly for the occasion—the grand opening of a cathedral—in attire befitting the Emperor and Empress of Spain. Their clothing was richly decorated in the traditional Spanish colors of red and yellow, with Emma’s gown accented by shades of green. An emerald necklace adorned her neck, a nod to the gemstone said to represent the Spanish Empire through its territories in the New World. Both wore the Spanish crest on their attire, along with long, flowing robes and, of course, their crowns.

Gilbert supposed such grandeur was expected for an event of this scale. As for himself, he had no particular intention of drawing attention… though intention didn’t mean much in this situation. How invisible could one be when stepping out of the same carriage as the Emperor and Empress of Spain? Not very. Besides, news of The Germanic King’s visit had likely spread, and among Spain’s nobility, his distinct appearance made him even harder to overlook. There weren’t many white-haired, red-eyed monarchs wandering around, after all…

Even so, his own attire was far less extravagant than Antonio and Emma’s—still regal, bearing his country’s crest on the right side of his chest, but not so ostentatious as to invite unwanted spectacle. He was used to standing out, but he at least hoped he’d be able to look around town without being constantly followed by Spain’s noble elite.

Well, he thought dryly, one can hope.

He exhaled quietly and let his gaze drift toward the window beside him. The noble district of Spain’s capital was a sight to behold… grand villas, lavish boutiques, well-maintained inns and taverns, even a bustling marketplace that somehow managed to look refined. He couldn’t deny that it was a comfortable place to live, nor that he appreciated the luxuries that came with high status.

But there was something he did enjoy from time to time… stepping away from all this grandeur and mingling with the more modest parts of a country. On his journey to Spain, he had passed through the smaller villages beyond the capital, places surrounded by sprawling fields and nature itself. They were simple, humble settlements, but the people there were full of life. They knew hardship, which made them all the more eager to enjoy the little things, like drinking a tankard of ice-cold beer after a long day’s work under the unforgiving sun.

Nobles and royals rarely found pleasure in such things, having everything at their fingertips.

Despite traveling in an entourage of opulent carriages, he had been able to slip by unnoticed, passing himself off as just a traveling noble. It had been fun… going to modest taverns, talking to the locals, experiencing something different from the usual courtly life.

But now, back in the present, he refocused on the scene outside.

Alongside the grand architecture, he could see crowds gathering as their carriage passed. Many stopped in their tracks to bow, while others whispered amongst themselves. Some even tossed roses their way, which was peculiar to him. Back home, his visits to town prompted similar reactions… save for that. Roses weren’t exactly a Prussian custom.

Gilbert shifted his gaze away from the window, and, almost unconsciously, let it flick toward the young woman sitting across from him.
His eyes traced the soft curls of her dark brown hair, lingering on a single unruly lock that refused to stay down. He was fairly certain she had brushed it, yet it still stood defiant. Now that he thought about it, her sister had the same problem… an untamed curl that never stayed in place.

Did it run in the family?

His mind wandered to a portrait he had seen in his youth, back when his father was still King of the Germanic Nation and he himself was just a prince. It had been of the late King of Italy. If he recalled correctly… he had not just one, but two such curls.

Huh. Maybe it did run in the family…

He might have pondered the thought longer, but his musings were abruptly cut short as the carriage came to a sudden halt.

Blinking, Gilbert turned his attention back to the window. A large crowd had gathered, their path held at bay by Spanish guards.

It seemed they had arrived.

“Ah! We’ve arrived!” Antonio suddenly exclaimed, pressing against Gilbert’s shoulder to get a better look out the window.

Gilbert huffed and nudged him back with the arm Antonio was leaning on. “You have your own window, Toni.” he muttered, continuing to nudge his friend.

Antonio quickly scooted back, clearly not eager to endure more jabs. “Sorry!” he said with an easy grin.

Gilbert let out a quiet exhale. It was hard to stay annoyed with Antonio when he was so damn affable. Shaking his head, he straightened his posture and glanced toward the Emperor beside him. “Are we getting off?”

Antonio gave a small nod. “Sì.”

Without further words, he turned and gave a brief knock against the carriage door—a signal. Almost immediately, the door swung open, revealing one of the footmen who had accompanied them. The man bowed his head before stepping aside, making way for Antonio to step out first.

Gilbert leaned forward slightly, peering past the open carriage door. Outside, a neatly arranged line of advisors and attendants stood waiting, followed by another row of handmaids and then one of knights and guards. He also couldn’t help but notice the subtle yet immediate shift in Antonio’s demeanor. Though still cheerful, the casual air from before was replaced with a more composed, stately presence.

Antonio stepped down first, followed closely by Emma, who was helped from the carriage by one of the footmen. Her posture, too, had changed—graceful and poised, though no less warm. Before moving further, she turned to the same footman and said something in Spanish. The man bowed in response and then extended his hand toward Lovina.

Gilbert glanced at her. A slight furrow in her brow, the way her lips were just barely pursed—she was frustrated about something…

But whatever it was, she didn’t let it show in her actions. Without hesitation, she accepted the footman’s hand and stepped out, quietly falling into place behind Emma.

With both the Emperor and Empress now outside, their gathered court bowed deeply in deference, while the surrounding crowd, already lively before, erupted with even greater excitement. Some pushed forward in an attempt to get a closer look at the Imperial Majesties. Others continued calling out, their voices a mix of cheers and admiration.

Then, one of the officials who had accompanied them stepped forward, positioning himself just behind Antonio and Emma. With a clear, authoritative voice, he made the announcement:

“Their Imperial Majesties have arrived today for the grand opening of the Santa Isabel Cathedral. Please welcome Their Imperial Majesties with the respect they are due.”

At once, the gathered crowd bowed, and for a brief moment, the noise quieted—only for the cheers to rise again, louder than before.

Gilbert let out a quiet exhale before stepping out of the carriage himself. That had been quite the grandiose display… He could only hope the official wouldn’t make a similar spectacle of introducing him. He had no desire to be the center of attention—but, of course, a king could only blend in so much.

Just as his feet touched the ground, the same official took a deep breath and, at the top of his lungs, declared:

“And please welcome Their Imperial Majesties’ guest of honor, who has also arrived for the grand opening of the Santa Isabel Cathedral—King of the Germanic Nation, His Highness, Gilbert Beilschmidt!”

Well. So much for stealth.

As expected, both the Spanish court and the gathered crowd bowed at his presence, greeting him with the respect due to a monarch. Gilbert forced himself not to look too irritated, though he certainly felt it. So much for this being an attention-free vacation.

Still, he stood straight, keeping the proud, confident bearing he had long mastered—one befitting a king.

With the introductions finally over, the official bowed his head and rejoined the rest of the court. Gilbert was about to shift his focus elsewhere when something pulled at the edge of his thoughts.

His gaze flickered toward Lovina. She was still scowling, and from the look on her face, she very much did not want to be here.

His attention briefly drifted to the roaring crowd, their cheers rising in volume.

Yeah. He could tell why.

“Let us proceed.”

Antonio’s voice cut through Gilbert’s thoughts, snapping him back to the present. He blinked, refocusing on what lay before him.

He hadn’t noticed at first, his mind had been elsewhere, but now he realized they were standing directly in front of the cathedral. His gaze lifted to take in the grand structure. Towering and ornate, its stone walls were adorned with intricate religious carvings, and its stained glass windows gleamed with rich color.

A shift in movement drew his attention back to Antonio and Emma, who had already started advancing toward the entrance.

Oh. I guess we’re moving now, Gilbert mused as he fell into step beside them.

Even as he walked, his attention drifted behind him, toward Lovina. She lagged slightly, her brows still furrowed, gaze fixed on the ground.

Hm… She certainly didn’t look pleased to be outside the castle walls.

He set the thought aside for now, turning his focus back to the cathedral as they stepped onto the short flight of stairs leading to its grand doors. Positioning himself slightly to the side, just behind Antonio and Emma, he watched as they faced the large crowd gathered outside. Spanish guards and members of the court formed a barrier around the sacred building, keeping the spectators at bay.

To his surprise, Lovina moved closer, stepping up beside him. He cast her a quick glance, noting how she kept her head bowed, hands clasped tightly together.

Before he could dwell on it, the assigned bishop of the cathedral stepped forward, offering a respectful greeting to Antonio and Emma, who returned the gesture. Then, in Spanish, the bishop spoke, his voice carrying over the hushed assembly.

Gilbert didn’t need a translation to understand. The way the crowd immediately fell silent confirmed it—the opening ceremony had begun.

Half an hour had passed, perhaps more, before the cathedral was officially opened to the public. At least, that’s what Gilbert gathered from the sudden cheers of the crowd and the way Antonio and Emma had finished their speeches. The bishop now presented them with something that looked like a key.

About time, Gilbert thought, though he kept his expression neutral. A crowd of this size left no room for careless reactions, especially when anything could be misinterpreted as offensive. Still, he couldn’t deny he was bored out of his mind.

His gaze followed Antonio as the Emperor turned toward the cathedral’s massive doors, inserting the key into the lock and slowly turning it. With a deliberate push, he swung the doors wide open. Emma began to clap, and the crowd quickly followed.

After a few more words from the bishop, it became clear that the people were now allowed to enter. Guards and court attendants repositioned themselves, forming lines along each side of the entrance while still maintaining a protective circle around Antonio, Emma, and, by extension, Gilbert and Lovina.

As the first citizens stepped forward, they bowed once more before the Emperor and Empress, showing their gratitude and respect. Some even stopped to bow in Gilbert’s direction. He acknowledged them with a small nod, but his focus had already begun to drift elsewhere…

Now that the crowd was more preoccupied with the grandeur of the cathedral than the presence of royalty, Gilbert decided it was his cue to slip away and finally explore the town.

Antonio and Emma remained engaged in conversation with the bishop and nearby priests, so he simply gestured for an attendant to approach. When the man did, Gilbert leaned in slightly.

“Let Their Majesties know I’ll be wandering around town for a while.”

The attendant bowed before promptly heading toward the Emperor and Empress. Antonio and Emma listened, then briefly glanced Gilbert’s way before offering him a smile and a small nod of understanding. He returned the smile—good, now he could be on his way.

Yet, before he left, he turned to the girl still standing beside him.

Lovina hadn’t moved. Her gaze remained fixed on the ground, that same furrow in her brow refusing to fade.

Gilbert tilted his head slightly. She probably needs to get out of here just as much as I do… His gaze lingered on her unhappy expression.

Then, an idea struck him. Maybe a walk around town would help—he knew it would lift his own spirits, so perhaps it would do the same for her. But asking her outright wasn’t an option. He didn’t speak Spanish or Italian, which made things difficult…

His eyes flicked to the royal attendants hovering nearby. As he considered them, a plan formed. Without hesitation, he called one over.

“Yes, Your Highness?” the man asked, bowing his head in deference.

Gilbert tilted his head toward Lovina. “Can you translate this for Miss Vargas in Spanish?”

At the attendant’s nod, he continued. “‘I’ll be walking around the town center. Do you wish to join me?’”

The attendant bowed again before turning to the brunette. “Señorita Vargas,” he began.

Lovina’s head snapped up, eyes widening in surprise, as if she hadn’t expected to hear her name so suddenly.

Undeterred, the attendant continued. “Su Alteza os ordena que le acompañéis en su paseo por el centro de la ciudad.” (His Highness commands you to accompany him on his stroll through the town center.)

(Spoiler alert: That was not how Gilbert had phrased it.)

Hearing the translation finished, Gilbert barely held back a grin, already picturing Lovina’s expression shifting from frustration to something brighter. Oh, this is perfect! he thought, thoroughly pleased with himself for coming up with such a brilliant plan.

Getting her away from the crowd and all the noise? Genius. He was determined to turn that scowl upside down.

And who knew? Maybe they’d even find an open window somewhere to pick up where they left off in the music room…

Gilbert watched as Lovina blinked at the attendant, her brows furrowing before she turned to stare at him.

Sensing her eyes on him, he grinned—friendly, inviting. Just like the way he’d asked her to join him. Friendly.

Her response, however, was not what he’d expected. At all.

The confusion on her face twisted into an even deeper scowl, her narrowed eyes sharp with irritation before she let out a loud huff.

Gilbert blinked. Huh?

She looked even more annoyed than before! What in the—? He had simply asked if she wanted to join him, not if she wanted to be thrown into a dungeon! What was with the sour reaction?!

Well… He sighed to himself, feeling like his plan had completely backfired—and he didn’t even know why.

If she didn’t want to come, fine. He wasn’t going to force her. He’d only been trying to do something nice.

Trying not to look disappointed, he turned to the attendant. “Uh, tell her she doesn’t have to come if she doesn’t want to.”

The attendant nodded, then turned to Lovina and promptly declared:

“Señorita Vargas, no debe desafiar los deseos de Su Alteza. La corte española debe defender su perfección ante sus ojos. Si él ordena su presencia, usted está obligado a obedecer.” (Miss Vargas, you must not defy His Highness’s wishes. The Spanish court must uphold its perfection in his eyes. If he commands your presence, you are duty-bound to comply.)

(...Again, this was NOT what Gilbert had said! Just what was up with this attendant?!)

Lovina’s glare darkened almost instantly—murderous, to say the least. But instead of snapping back, she bit her lip, as if holding something in, then crossed her arms in clear irritation.

Why is she looking at me like I just threatened to annex Italy?! Gilbert thought, more confused than ever.

His mind reeled. What about what he’d said could possibly make her this irritated? Nothing came to mind! He had actually been very polite…

Then, his gaze darted to the attendant who had translated his words.

Wait a minute… A thought crossed his mind.

There was no way his words had sounded remotely provoking. The only logical explanation for Lovina’s reaction had to be… a misunderstanding. A mistranslation.

Maybe this guy didn’t understand English well enough…

Gilbert quickly turned fully to him. “Did you translate exactly what I said?” His voice caught the attendant off guard. The surprise didn’t linger, though. The man quickly regained his composure, bowing before responding smoothly.

“I told Miss Vargas what you wished to convey, Your Highness.”

What I wished to convey? Gilbert’s eyes flicked to Lovina, whose expression still radiated pure annoyance, before settling back on the attendant with suspicion.

He squinted slightly. “And… what did I wish to convey, exactly?”

The attendant lifted his head just enough to meet Gilbert’s gaze for a brief moment, then bowed again. “That you demanded Miss Vargas accompany you on your stroll.”

Huh?

Demanded?

…

DEMANDED?!

The word slammed into Gilbert’s mind like a church bell rung far too hard, rattling and reverberating over and over.

When had I—?! What?! How did this attendant even—?! Huh?!

He could not have been more confused—or was it shocked? Honestly, both seemed likely.

His gaze snapped to Lovina, who was still glaring at him like he’d personally insulted her entire lineage. Which, in a way, he practically had—though not by his own doing. But that’s how she saw it!

Great. She probably thinks I’m some pompous jerk barking orders because she doesn’t have a title anymore, he thought, exhaling sharply. She thinks I didn’t even give her a choice!

The word demanded rang through his mind again, and he winced. That had never even crossed his mind. Why would the attendant interpret it that way?

Slowly, he turned back to the man, who stood completely unbothered by the mess he had just caused. Gilbert sighed. He could make a fuss, but he had neither the time nor the patience for it. Instead, he waved the man off, letting his gaze wander in search of a solution.

It didn’t take long before his eyes landed on a particular handmaid standing closer to Lovina than the others.

Wait a moment… I recognize her.

Yes… she was the same one from before. The one who’d walked in while he and Lovina were still struggling to communicate.

An idea sparked.

He gestured toward her. “You,” he called, catching her attention. “Do you speak English?”

The older woman blinked in surprise but didn’t hesitate to nod.

“A… a little bit, Su Alteza.” she replied.

A little? Well, that was good enough. At least she didn’t seem like the type to twist his words in compromising ways, and given that her English wasn’t perfect, she probably couldn’t even if she wanted to. That was already a step up from the previous guy.

He’d take it.

He gestured for her to come closer, and she obeyed without question.

Letting out a breath, he inclined his head slightly toward Lovina. “Could you please tell Miss Vargas that whatever the previous… uh, translator said is not what I actually meant, nor what I actually said, for that matter?”

The handmaid paused for a moment to process his words before bowing slightly.

“Of course, Your Highness.”

And with that, she turned to the irritated brunette. After catching her attention, she began to relay Gilbert’s message—or at least, he hoped that was what she was doing. He couldn’t be too sure anymore after the previous guy…

As Lovina listened, the deep scowl on her face slowly began to fade, if only slightly, and her arms, once crossed so tightly, loosened just a bit. When the handmaid finished speaking, Lovina turned toward Gilbert again, casting him a surprised glance. She tilted her head, her expression still wary. Suspicious, even. But at least now, she no longer looked at him like he’d personally set fire to her hometown.

Her brows remained furrowed, but the tension in them now seemed more from confusion than outright irritation. Gilbert let out a quiet exhale of relief. That meant the message had actually been delivered correctly this time.

Lovina, after finishing her silent assessment of him, turned back to her handmaid and said something in Spanish—something Gilbert, of course, didn’t catch. He could only hope it was something positive…

After a brief exchange, the handmaid turned back to him and bowed slightly. “Your Highness, my young mistress wishes to know—if what she had heard before was not what you meant, and by extension, not what you actually said—then what did you truly mean?”

Gilbert nodded, then repeated his earlier proposal.

“I wished to ask her if she’d like to accompany me through town. It wasn’t an order. It was a question.”

He made sure to say the last phrase a bit more slowly, ensuring that the handmaid could follow along. Once he saw that she understood, he continued.

“And also, let your young mistress know that I don’t know why the previous court member twisted my words the way he did, but she should understand that it wasn’t my doing. I wouldn’t just order a former princess around—especially one who’s not even part of my court. That’s stooping very low, I wouldn’t—”

He stopped abruptly, reconsidering his words. Maybe the last part wasn’t necessary. He opened his mouth again, hesitated, then changed his mind.

“Actually, don’t say the last part.”

But after a second thought, he furrowed his brows and corrected himself once more.

“Actually, do say the last part as well.”

When he glanced at the handmaid, she was staring at him with a terribly confused expression. Oh. Had he spoken too fast? She had said she only spoke a little bit of English, after all. Or maybe there were words she hadn’t fully understood?

He took a moment to think before addressing her again. “Did you manage to get that?”

The handmaid stared at him for a moment before bowing her head apologetically.

“Ah, my apologies, Your Highness, but if you would be so kind… could you repeat what you’ve just uttered? But… slower?”

“Ah,” Gilbert let out, blinking. He quickly composed himself, not wanting to give the impression that her request had annoyed him. It hadn’t—he was well aware that he tended to talk quickly when thinking through something.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” he finally said with a small, amused sigh.

After running through his words once more, Gilbert carefully repeated them, this time speaking slower for the handmaid assigned to translate. The older woman listened intently, pausing for a moment, likely to ensure she translated correctly, before turning to the former Italian princess and relaying his words in Spanish.

Once she finished, Gilbert kept his gaze fixed on Lovina, waiting for her reaction. Hopefully, this time, it would be better than the last… She raised a hand to her mouth, and then—

A snicker.

Gilbert blinked.

Had she just laughed?

He stared, unsure whether his mind was playing tricks on him. But then—

"Pfft..."

There it was again. Lovina was clearly trying to stifle her laughter, but she wasn’t succeeding. When she turned to glance at the man beside her, Gilbert was taken aback. Her expression wasn’t irritated, scowling, or distant like before. It wasn’t even the troubled look she’d worn yesterday. No, this was something else entirely.
Amusement. Genuine amusement.

And her eyes—hazel, warm, bright—seemed almost luminous when she laughed.

He hadn’t expected that.

For a moment, Gilbert could do nothing but stare. That expression suited her far more than any of the others. It softened her face, made her look… lighter, freer. He caught himself watching the way her shoulders shook, the way her lips curled in that unguarded moment of mirth.

It was a good look on her. A really good look.

It wasn’t until she spoke again that he snapped out of it, the spell breaking in an instant.

"Che uomo strano... e pensare che sia un Re..." (What a strange man… and to think he’s a King…)

Her voice carried that same amusement, her greenish-brown eyes still bright as she spared him a quick glance.

Gilbert barely registered what language she’d spoken in. Italian? Spanish? It didn’t matter. All he knew was that he was still caught in her gaze, in the unexpected vibrancy of it..

What the hell was wrong with him?

Shaking his head slightly, he forced himself back to reality. There were more important things to focus on.

Like what she had just said.

Turning to the handmaid, who had become his unofficial translator, he furrowed his brow. “What did she say?”

The older woman bowed slightly before answering. “I apologize, Your Highness, but what Miss Vargas uttered was in Italian… and I do not speak the language.” She bowed again, as if deeply regretting her failure.

“Ah.”

Gilbert flicked his gaze toward Lovina again—but only for a second. Looking too long at her eyes seemed like a dangerous thing.

Instead, he turned back to the handmaiden. “Can you ask her about her response to my proposal?”

The woman did as she was told, speaking once more in Spanish.

And Gilbert didn’t need to understand a word to grasp Lovina’s answer.

"Sì."

She said it simply, barely sparing him a glance before looking away again.

Yet for some reason, that single word left Gilbert feeling… something.

Something he wasn’t sure he could name.
Well, whatever. It was probably just relief. Or satisfaction. Lovina had accepted his offer, and that whole translation issue was resolved. Yeah, that had to be it.

With her answer set in stone, Gilbert turned to the guards and attendants around them, informing them that they would be heading through town on foot for a while—just to look around. They respected his wishes but insisted he select a few guards and attendants to accompany them. He did as requested, and before long, he and the former Italian princess were strolling through the streets of Spain’s capital.

Well, strolling might have been an exaggeration. It wasn’t exactly peaceful. Even with a smaller escort, they still drew attention. People paused, whispering and gawking as they passed. Not ideal. But at least it was better than being stuck in a carriage. And hey, he was getting to see the city properly.

They walked until they reached the marketplace he had glimpsed from the carriage window earlier.

Gilbert halted, taking in the vast stretch of stalls before them. For a moment, he simply observed—rows of merchants calling out their wares, the scent of fresh produce mixing with spices, the chatter of buyers haggling over prices. He’d always enjoyed visiting markets in different capitals. There was something fascinating about seeing what other nations had to offer.

He turned to Lovina. She had also stopped, her gaze fixed on the marketplace ahead.

Gilbert studied her for a beat before motioning for her handmaid to step closer. Once she did, he asked. “Can you ask Miss Vargas if she’d like to look around?”

The older woman nodded and translated his request. Lovina flicked her eyes toward him and gave a small nod.

Gilbert offered her a slight smile in return before informing the guards and attendants that they would be browsing the market.

And so they wandered through the bustling streets.

Even though locals continued to stare, Gilbert found it easy to tune them out. His focus shifted to the sights around him—citrus fruits piled high, bright oranges, lemons, and limes that were nearly impossible to find back home. Olive products lined the stalls, from oils to cured varieties, things that were far from common in Prussia. And the spices—so many of them, vibrant and fragrant. There were fine textiles, Spanish leather of unmatched quality. He imported this from Antonio’s empire, but seeing it displayed like this reminded him why it was worth the cost.

His gaze landed on a stand piled with fresh oranges.

Oranges!

It had been so long since he’d had a ripe one. The ones he imported never arrived in time! Always overripe, dull, never as sweet as they should be…

Without thinking, he strode over, barely registering the wide-eyed merchants who stiffened at his approach, likely startled by the sight of a foreign king flanked by Spanish guards.

Before he could say anything, one of the attendants stepped forward and announced in a clear voice. “His Highness, the King of the Germanic Nation.”

A chorus of hurried bows followed.

Gilbert sighed quietly. Once again, he had hoped his status would go unannounced... but a king could only wish.

“Your Majesty,” the merchant greeted with a bright, welcoming smile. “Please, take a look at our citrus collection. They are in season.”

That caught Gilbert’s interest instantly. In season? Hell yeah. That meant these oranges were at their peak! Fresh, juicy, and perfect! He could already imagine how good they’d taste..

“Will do!” he responded with a grin, eyeing the vibrant fruit piled before him. He reached out to pick one up but hesitated, remembering past experiences of trying to do something normal while surrounded by court members and officials. Yeah… not going through that again. He let his hand hover over the fruit and glanced at the Spanish attendants, who were all staring at him like he was about to commit some great offense (touch an orange).

He sighed. “I’m picking up an orange.”

The attendants visibly tensed, and just as one of them opened their mouth, likely to offer to do it for him, he cut them off.

“By myself.”

That did the trick. The court members gave reluctant nods, and Gilbert finally turned back to the stand, picked up an orange, and tossed it from one hand to the other with a satisfied hum.

“How much for ten?” he asked, looking back at the merchant.

The man beamed. “Ah, for you, Your Highness, it’s on the house!”

Gilbert blinked. “On the house?” He glanced down at the orange in his palm. “Really?” A small laugh escaped him.

The merchant nodded. “Sí!”

“Man, you Spaniards are so nice!” Gilbert let out another laugh, then gestured toward one of the attendants. “Give this guy a few… uh, those Spanish coins I can never seem to remember the name of!”

Though a bit startled, just like the rest of the court members, the attendant complied.

The merchant looked surprised. “But, Your Highness, I said it’s on the house!”

Gilbert waved him off casually. “Yeah, yeah, I know. This is just to help with your business. I’d hate to come back and see your stand empty.”

The merchant chuckled and bowed. “Gracias, Your Highness. I’ll have oranges waiting for you on your next trip here!”

He packed up the ten oranges, adding an extra one before handing them over. Gilbert thanked him and continued strolling through the market, glancing around at the lively stalls.

“Oh, whoa—he even gave me an extra orange!” he muttered, peeking into the bag. “Spanish people really are the nicest.” He doubted any merchant back home would do the same, even for a king. Especially for a king. He mused on that for a moment—

Then something dashed in front of him.

Gilbert stumbled, nearly dropping his oranges, but managed to steady himself. He turned his head first to check on Lovina, expecting to find her still walking beside him—

But she wasn’t.

Huh?

He blinked, looking to the other side, only to spot her at a nearby stand. Wait… He glanced back where she should’ve been, then back at her, realization dawning.

She had been the one who ran past him.

Well, she could sure run.

Raising an eyebrow, he followed her gaze to the stall she seemed so utterly fixated on. What had caught her attention so suddenly? Handing his bag of oranges to an attendant, he made his way over to her.

Lovina was leaning over the stand, peering closely at the products on display. Gilbert pushed past a few of the guards surrounding them and finally reached the stall, curious to see what had captured the brunette’s attention so completely.

His gaze landed on… tomatoes?

He blinked. Of all things, he hadn’t expected that. Tomatoes were as common in Spain as air—hardly worth getting excited over. Given that Lovina had been living here for months now, she shouldn’t be surprised to find them, right? He glanced between the bright red produce and the girl beside him, not quite sure what kind of expression he expected from her.

And yet, when his eyes settled on her face…

Something unfamiliar stirred in his chest.

Lovina’s usual sharp scowl was nowhere to be seen. Instead, her hazel eyes shimmered with something close to awe. Her hands were clasped together, her gaze tracing over the tomatoes like they were some rare treasure. She looked… excited. Happy.

Gilbert tilted his head slightly, studying her. She must really like tomatoes…

There was something about the way she lit up, so openly delighted, that caught him completely off guard. It suited her, he realized. Yeah… this is a far better look on her.

That thought felt so bizarre that he had to look away for a second, forcing himself to reorganize whatever strange ideas had just crept into his mind. But when he turned back to her, his mouth moved faster than his brain.

“Do you… want to buy some tomatoes?”

The words had already left him before he remembered—oh. Wait. She didn’t understand him.

Lovina stiffened slightly, eyes flicking toward him before she straightened up, turning away just a bit, as if she’d been caught doing something embarrassing. But after a moment, she peeked back at him, her expression puzzled.

“Che cosa…?” (What?)

Gilbert glanced around, trying to figure out how to bridge the language gap, then pointed toward the tomatoes.

“The tomatoes,” he repeated. “Do you wish to buy some?”

Lovina blinked up at him, then back at the tomatoes, then at him again. Slowly, she echoed. “Tomates?”

Oh? She’d understood that word at least.

Probably because it sounded the same in—wait, is that Italian? Or Spanish? He still couldn’t tell the difference. Both languages sounded the same to him.

“Uh, yeah, tomatoes.” He nodded, then repeated his question.

Lovina tilted her head, brows furrowing in concentration. That part, she didn’t get.

Luckily, her handmaid stepped in, translating the words for her. As soon as Lovina processed the meaning, something flickered across her face—a brief return of the same bright expression she’d worn before.

She nodded shyly and pointed toward the tomatoes again.

Gilbert let out a small exhale, barely realizing he’d been holding his breath, and his usual grin crept back onto his face. He gave her a slight nod, acknowledging her answer, before turning to the merchant.

“How about a bag of your best tomatoes?”

After the purchase was made, Lovina immediately gestured that she wanted to hold the bag herself. Gilbert had no complaints—he handed it over without hesitation.

And as she peeked inside, her face glowed.

It was such a simple thing, really. Just a bag of tomatoes. Yet the way she looked at them, like they were something precious…

Gilbert found himself watching her again, thoughts drifting somewhere unfamiliar.

Being happy really does suit her…

They lingered in the market a while longer before making their way back to the main streets, taking the narrower paths at an unhurried pace.

Gilbert kept stealing glances at the girl beside him, his thoughts still caught on her earlier expression. He couldn’t shake it from his mind.

At this rate, he had nearly forgotten why he had sought her out in the first place—the thing that had troubled Lovina yesterday and again today… That word. The one she had spoken to him. If only he knew what it meant, maybe it would clear up everything…

How was it pronounced again…?

He might have stayed lost in thought if not for the moment they approached the royal carriage. Emma and Antonio had likely finished their duties in town by now and were waiting for them to return to the castle.

But it wasn’t his own mind that brought him back to the present. It was her.

As they neared the carriage, Lovina’s expression shifted. It was subtle at first—a small flicker in her gaze, a slight downturn of her lips. Then, all at once, that earlier glow was gone, as if she had just remembered something she’d been trying to forget. A shadow passed over her face, washing away the warmth he’d been so caught up in. Frustration crept back into her features.
Gilbert barely had time to process it before she suddenly turned to him.

She hesitated, lips parting slightly, as if she wanted to say something. Ask something.

His heart gave a single, steady thump.

He wanted to know what it was.

But before she could speak, Antonio’s voice rang out, calling them inside.

Lovina stiffened. Her head snapped toward the Emperor, then back to Gilbert. She gave him a small, unreadable look, one that left an odd weight in his chest, before pressing her lips together and turning away. Without another word, she stepped into the carriage.

Gilbert remained outside for just a second longer, replaying that glance in his mind, trying to piece together what it had meant.

Then, exhaling a quiet breath, he followed her inside.

They arrived back at the castle in short time, and soon enough, everyone went their separate ways to tend to their duties.

Gilbert had hoped to keep Lovina from slipping away, just long enough to ask her about that word. Or at least try to ask—try to communicate with her. They had managed well enough earlier in the day, hadn’t they? Surely, they could do so again…

But luck wasn’t on his side.

Before he could get a word in, she was whisked away to attend her English tutoring session—apparently, it was starting right that moment.

Just like that, she was gone.

And with the lessons and other duties that filled her schedule, he doubted he’d get another chance to speak with her today…

How unfortunate.

With nothing better to do, Gilbert eventually found himself in one of the many libraries within Antonio’s castle. He hadn’t come with the intent to read anything in particular—he just needed something to occupy himself with. Wandering through rows of books he couldn’t understand, flipping through the ones with pictures, was at least better than brooding over his unaccomplishment.

Seated at a table, he absentmindedly turned pages, staring at the illustrations without really seeing them. His mind, predictably, drifted back to the day’s events. More specifically—to her.

Lovina’s bright expression.

The way her eyes had gleamed with amusement at the translation mishap…

The way she had practically lit up upon receiving those tomatoes…

And then… it had all vanished, wiped away the moment they neared the carriage. Because of that, his mind kept returning to yesterday—that troubled look. It lingered in his thoughts once more, haunting him…

Abruptly, Gilbert snapped the book shut. The sound echoed through the library, startling a few court members lingering nearby.

That word.

He pushed himself up from his seat, pacing for a few moments as he tried to recall it…

So.. sore… ah! Sorella! Yes! That had to be it, if he remembered correctly. But what did it mean?

He halted, glancing around at the Spanish courtiers present. Without further thought, he cleared his throat and turned to them.

“Do any of you…” He hesitated, and the room seemed to sharpen with anticipation. “know how to speak Italian?”

A few exchanged glances, some looking outright surprised by the question. Eventually, a higher-ranking attendant stepped forward, clearing his throat.

“We apologize, Your Majesty, but we do not speak… Italian…” The man’s voice wavered slightly, perhaps not wishing to disappoint.

Gilbert exhaled through his nose. He supposed it had been a long shot—after all, why would they speak a language from a country they had likely never set foot in? He dismissed the thought with a small nod and turned away, gaze scanning the shelves. There had to be another way—

And then it struck him.

Wait a second…

He was in a library.

He turned sharply back toward the attendants, his mind racing ahead of him. “Are there any dictionaries here?”

The higher-ranking courtier nodded. “Why, of course. His Imperial Majesty keeps dictionaries of most of the world’s languages. Is Your Majesty in need of one?”

Relief flooded Gilbert’s chest, and maybe—maybe—a bit of excitement too. A dictionary. How had he not thought of this sooner?

“I am,” he responded, keeping his eagerness beneath a layer of royal composure. “Bring me an Italian dictionary.”

The attendant gave a slight bow. “Right away, Your Majesty. But before that—may I ask which language Your Highness wishes for it to be translated into?”

“German.”

The attendant hurried off to retrieve the requested dictionary, leaving Gilbert to tap his fingers impatiently against the table. It took longer than he would have liked, but the moment the book arrived, he wasted no time. Snatching it up, he flipped it open, his eyes scanning the pages with fierce determination.

The word he was looking for started with ‘s’…
He skimmed through the list, his gaze darting over countless unfamiliar words. The longer it took, the more restless he became, but finally—finally—his eyes landed on something familiar.

‘S-o-r-e-l-l-a.’

His pulse quickened. That was it. That had to be it.

A small wave of satisfaction washed over him—he’d actually managed to find it. Now, for the answer. What had Lovina been trying to tell him?
His gaze slid over to the German translation, expecting to see something grim—something that would explain why she had looked so troubled. War, perhaps? Enemy?

But instead…

“…Schwester?”

His voice came out quiet, almost uncertain, as if the word itself was playing some sort of trick on him.

Sister?

He blinked, then looked again, half-convinced he had read the wrong line. But no—it was correct.

‘Sorella’ meant sister.

“Huh?”

The white-haired Prussian blinked, staring at the word as if it might change under his gaze. He read it again. And again.

Sister?

Confusion settled in. If ‘sorella’ was something as simple as sister, then why had the former princess of Italy looked at him that way? Why had she seemed so troubled? It didn’t make any sense…

His mind replayed the morning’s events.

They had tried to communicate… she had said ‘sì’, which meant ‘yes’. Then ‘mia’, which he had guessed meant ‘mine’. And finally… ‘sorella’.

“My sister…”

Gilbert murmured the translation out loud, frowning slightly as the words meant nothing to him. What did he have to do with her sister?
The gears in his mind turned, slow, almost reluctant, until, at last, everything clicked into place.

Italy had fallen. The kingdom had been split in two, each half claimed by a different empire. But it wasn’t just land that had been divided—the two princesses had been separated as well. One was taken to Austria. The other to Spain. They hadn’t seen each other since.

Letters took months to send and receive…

And suddenly, Gilbert understood.

The way Lovina had looked at him after he mentioned her resemblance to her sister… the way her expression had shifted, like he held something just beyond her reach. Because he did.

She hadn’t been startled by him—not because he was a king, not because of anything he’d said or done.

She had been startled because he knew her sister.

Of course. That was why she had reacted so suddenly. Why she had looked at him with something close to desperation. He had spoken about her sister as if he had seen her with his own eyes—because he had. And Lovina had realized that too.

Gilbert exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

Lovina wasn’t upset with him. She wasn’t afraid of him either.

She was worried about her sister.

Chapter Text

Gilbert finally understood. It wasn’t him that troubled the former Italian princess—it was the fact that he knew her sister!

He had mistaken her unease for wariness, assuming she was trying to gauge his intentions. But that wasn’t it at all. She hadn’t been unsettled by him, not really… She had been desperate for news… news about her sister!

The realization sank into him like a heavy stone. Of course. It had been nearly half a year since they last saw each other. She must have been stunned to learn he knew Feliciana, and the moment she did, she lashed out—pressing him with questions…

He let out a slow breath, gaze fixed on the open dictionary before him, though he wasn’t really reading the words anymore. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the moment she had turned to him, that desperate look in her eyes, clinging to the hope that he held something, anything, of her sister’s world within his grasp. And he hadn't even realized it at first…

And how hadn’t he? That reaction had come right after he mentioned she resembled her sister! And he knew the two had been separated! How had he even begun to think it had something to do with merely him?

God, Gilbert, you’re too full of yourself…

Now that he thought about it, Antonio had mentioned it in one of his long-winded letters after securing his rule over southern Italy. He had explained how the sisters had been devastated when they were torn apart, but Gilbert hadn’t given it much thought at the time. A necessary arrangement, he had figured. Political realities often were.

But now he saw it through her eyes, felt the depth of that loss in the way she had looked at him. The Spanish Emperor could have surrounded Lovina with gold, silk, and a hundred attendants, but what good was any of it if the one person who mattered most to her wasn’t by her side? And that was her only family left. The late King of Italy, their grandfather, was dead…

Gilbert doubted the Spanish court had been much of a comfort either, no matter how Antonio might try to spin it. The sisters had been taken to opposite ends of the continent, after all…

Well, maybe not literally, since Spain and Austria weren’t that far apart—just a few countries between them. But it may as well have been…

A subtle frown creased the red-eyed man’s brow. Had they even been able to exchange letters? The thought surfaced unbidden.

By his estimate, it would take around six weeks for a letter to reach Austria, then another six for a reply. Twelve weeks for a single exchange. And that was assuming everything had gone smoothly—no delays, no misplaced letters, no interferences…

But even under ideal conditions, that meant, at most, they could have sent four letters since their separation.

Four letters.

That was barely anything…

His fingers drummed idly against the armrest of his chair as his mind retraced Lovina’s reaction. That troubled look she had given him… no, that wasn’t the look of someone reassured by even a sparse handful of letters. That was the look of someone who hadn’t heard anything at all…

And if she hadn’t—why?

His jaw tightened slightly as theories began to emerge in his mind. Had she written and never received a response? Had Feliciana’s letters been intercepted? Or perhaps Lovina hadn’t written at all… but that didn’t seem likely. Judging by her reaction, she was clearly worried for her sister… desperately so. And if she was this concerned, why wouldn’t she have written?

Yeah, that couldn’t be it…

One of the former possibilities was far more probable… but which?

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers still tapping against the chair’s armrest. He couldn’t be sure… and, for some reason, that unsettled him more than he expected. He needed to know.

With a loud sigh, Gilbert leaned back in his chair, staring up at the painted ceiling. Spanish artistry—rich colors, gilded details. Typical of Antonio’s tastes. He wasn’t really seeing it, though. His mind was elsewhere…

He thought back to his visits to his cousin’s estate, where he had often run into Feliciana. She had always been cheerful—smiling, laughing, prattling on about some nonsense or another. But every time she saw him and Ludwig together, something in her expression would shift…

A flicker of sorrow, or something close to it…

Back then, he hadn’t thought much of it. But now, it made sense.

Seeing him and his brother side by side, never truly separated, must have reminded her of what she longed for. She wanted to be with her sister.

But at the time, Gilbert hadn’t yet met Lovina. Feliciana couldn’t have expected him to bring her news about her sister when he hadn’t even known her.

For Lovina, though, it was different.

The moment she realized he knew Feliciana, she must have seen a glimmer of hope. It probably didn’t matter to her how or why he knew her sister—only that he did.

Gilbert blinked, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling, yet he couldn't bring himself to focus on the paintings above…

If, one day, something terrible were to happen to his kingdom, if he and Ludwig were torn apart, left with no way of knowing how the other was faring…

The thought twisted something deep in his chest.

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

Lovina’s reaction was justified.

The poor girl.

With that thought in mind, he shoved his chair back abruptly, the legs scraping against the wooden floor as he stood. The sharp sound cut through the quiet chamber, and several attendants flinched at the sudden movement.

“Your Highness, are you finished reading?” one of his court members asked cautiously.

Gilbert barely spared him a glance. “Ah, not quite. Leave everything as it is.” He gestured vaguely toward the table, and at once, both his own court members and the Spanish attendants bowed in acknowledgment.

But he was no longer looking their way. His thoughts had already moved on.

He needed to know... Just what was going on with the Italian sisters? Why hadn’t Lovina been able to reach her sister?

“…But,” he added after a beat, his gaze shifting toward the doorway.

He didn’t know enough about the situation. But there was one person who did…

“I do have a request.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the same attendant replied in German. “What is your request?”

Gilbert kept his eyes on the doorway, weighing his next words before finally turning back.

“Let His Imperial Majesty know that I wish to speak with him. Tell him it’s…” He hesitated. Antonio was most likely drowning in affairs of state. If he didn’t make it sound pressing, he’d be put off until dinner—or worse, later.

“…urgent.”

It wasn’t exactly urgent. Not in the way a war or a treaty negotiation was. But Gilbert wasn’t about to sit around waiting.

Once he set his mind on something, he had to see it through. That stubborn drive—it was in his Germanic blood.

The attendant bowed. “Right away, Your Majesty.”

It didn’t take long for Gilbert’s message to reach Antonio. Even in the middle of signing legislation, the urgency in the attendant’s voice was enough to catch his attention.

Gilbert wasn’t the type to seek him out insistently, especially when he knew Antonio was buried in official duties.

Without hesitation, the Spaniard set his documents aside and accepted the request, calling for his friend to meet him in his office. Whatever had prompted this urgency, he could only hope it wasn’t something dire.

Before long, the red-eyed monarch stood before him. Antonio had dismissed his advisors, leaving the two of them alone.

Gilbert blinked at the sight in front of him. Antonio stood by the window, staring out as if he expected a storm to crash over the Spanish heartlands at any moment. His posture was stiff, his expression tense, far more troubled than Gilbert had anticipated.

A brief silence stretched between them before Antonio suddenly turned, brows furrowed.

"Gil!"

In an instant, he strode forward, gripping Gilbert’s shoulders so abruptly that the Prussian nearly stumbled back.

Gilbert stared, utterly baffled. What the hell? Antonio was usually so carefree, but now he looked dead serious.

Then, with the most serious tone imaginable, the brunet asked: “Is everything alright?”—as if war were about to break out.

Gilbert just stood there for a second, thrown off by the sheer intensity of the reaction.

Then, it clicked.

His sudden request must have set off alarm bells. He never disturbed Antonio during state matters without a good reason. And what he wanted to discuss was important, just… not the kind of urgent crisis Antonio seemed to be bracing for.

He wasn’t about to shove his worried friend off, but he did need to make it clear that there was no need for all this alarm.

Before he could get a word in, however, the brunet beat him to it.

“Do you need to go back to Germany?” he asked, giving Gilbert a small shake before finally releasing him and stepping back. But instead of calming down, he only seemed more agitated.

“When your attendant came rushing in, saying you urgently needed to speak with me, I got so worried! Did you receive news of some horrible occurrence in your kingdom?”

Gilbert opened his mouth—

“Is your brother alright? Did something happen while he’s handling things in your place? Did someone declare war on your kingdom? Ah! Did he fall ill?”

Gilbert shut his mouth.

And stared.

How did one man manage to list so many catastrophic possibilities in the span of a few seconds?

Antonio was supposed to be an optimist, wasn’t he? Because right now, he sounded like the opposite! Seriously! Half of those things hadn’t even crossed the Prussian’s mind!

“Toni, no,” he cut in, firm but feeling a little guilty for the heart attack he must’ve just given his friend.

That, at least, seemed to get through. Antonio stopped pacing, his sharp green eyes locking onto Gilbert, watching him closely.

“There’s nothing wrong with my kingdom,” Gilbert reassured him. “Or my brother, for that matter. He’s too responsible for anything to happen to either of them.”

He shot Antonio a pointed look, noting how the Spaniard finally—finally—relaxed.

Gilbert exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry to make you worry like that,” he added, feeling just a little bad about it now. “I just wanted to ask you something. Hope you’re not too busy…”

His gaze flickered toward the desk, where a daunting stack of unsigned documents loomed.

Yeah. Antonio was definitely busy…

Antonio gaped at him for a moment, almost as if his mind had stalled while processing what Gilbert had just said.

Gilbert barely resisted the urge to sigh. Great. He hoped Antonio wouldn’t get mad at him for disturbing him just to, well… as he had put it, ask him something…

After another second of silence, the Spanish Emperor finally opened his mouth.

“Oh!”

A surprised exclamation. Then a pause.

And finally—laughter.

He let out a relieved breath, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “You really had me there! Haha! Phew!” He strode forward, giving Gilbert a light pat on the forearm, before casually strolling back to his desk.

Gilbert watched him go, torn between amusement and relief. Was this guy even capable of getting mad? For all the panic Antonio had shown a minute ago, it vanished in an instant, replaced by his usual carefree air. Well, the Prussian mused, I suppose that’s a good thing. That meant it would be easier to bring up the topic he wanted to discuss…

“So then,” Antonio continued, still sounding far too cheerful for someone drowning in state affairs, “what is it you want to ask me?”
He absently shifted some signed papers aside, his attention divided.

Gilbert was about to answer when Antonio, struck by some sudden realization, abandoned the papers entirely and turned back to him with a grin.

“Ah! Do you want to go to town again?” he exclaimed, eyes gleaming with amusement as he clasped his hands together.

Gilbert narrowed his eyes slightly. That was not what he had come here to say, but before he could even open his mouth—

“España gets so lively at night!” Antonio continued, as if his friend had already agreed. “I’m sure you’d have fun.” He shot the red-eyed king a thumbs-up, his grin widening. “If that’s the case, you know you don’t have to ask me for permission for that sort of thing! Just grab a carriage and be on your way.”

And with that, the Spaniard chuckled, turned back to his desk, and, without a second thought, sat down, returning to his documents as if the conversation were already over.

Gilbert shook his head, a small, awkward laugh escaping him. How does he even function like this?

“No, I know that,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “But I’m staying inside tonight. And that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about…”

At that, Antonio looked up again, blinking in mild surprise.

“No?” He tilted his head, curiosity piqued. “Then what?”

Gilbert exhaled softly, his gaze drifting to the stack of papers on Antonio’s desk rather than meeting his friend’s eyes. As if that would somehow make this easier.

“It’s about…” He hesitated.

How was he supposed to phrase this without sounding like he was prying where he shouldn’t? He had little personal involvement with the two Italian sisters—at least, not directly. And yet, here he was, interrupting Antonio’s work to ask about them.

Maybe this was overstepping…

The thought gnawed at him, but he had already come this far. There was no turning back now.

Taking a steadying breath, he pressed on.

“I was just curious… how has the relationship between the former Italian princesses been ever since…” His voice trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. “… you know.”

He finally looked back at Antonio—and instantly regretted it.

The Emperor was staring at him, eyes slightly widened, his entire expression caught somewhere between surprise and disbelief. No, more than that. He looked stunned.

Of course he did… Why wouldn’t he be?

Gilbert, asking about something that didn’t directly concern him must have seemed bizarre, completely out of nowhere. Antonio was probably trying to figure out what had actually prompted this.

Quick! Say something to smooth this out!

“Ah… I only ask because…” He scrambled for a reasonable explanation, something that didn’t make him sound nosy. “Because I, too, have a sibling, as you know…” he settled on that. “And I can’t imagine not being able to speak to him face to face for a long time…”

Even as he spoke, he could hear the uncertainty in his own voice. But it wasn’t a lie. The thought of being separated from Ludwig indefinitely, kept apart by borders, duty, or worse, was… unsettling. More than he cared to admit.

He blinked, forcing himself to hold Antonio’s gaze rather than looking away, knowing that would only make things more awkward.

“I mean… I’ve met the other former princess as well, and from what I’ve gathered, they both kind of seem…” He trailed off again, vaguely gesturing with his hand, feeling painfully inelegant as Antonio still hadn’t responded.

Well? Say something, man…

“Uh, do they send letters to each other…?” The words left him before he could overthink them any further. He’d danced around the question long enough—might as well just ask outright.

But instead of an answer, more silence.

Antonio was still staring at him. His expression had shifted, unreadable now.

Gilbert felt his stomach twist with secondhand embarrassment. Well, damn. He’s not going to answer, is he? Maybe this really wasn’t his place to ask. Maybe Antonio thought he was just being nosy—

He just would’ve hoped—

A loud sigh snapped him from his thoughts.

Gilbert’s attention darted back to Antonio.

The Emperor no longer looked surprised. His expression had softened into something quieter, more subdued… almost regretful. He had stopped fiddling with the papers, both hands now resting on the desk, his fingers tapping against the surface as if gathering his thoughts.

The Prussian watched him closely, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.

And when Antonio finally spoke, he listened.

“I get what you mean, Gilbert.”

Antonio’s voice was quieter than usual, his words laced with something… remorseful.

And—he had used his actual name. Not his
nickname.

Whoa. This was serious.

Gilbert instinctively straightened, his body tensing as Antonio sighed again. He was used to Antonio being easygoing, always brushing things off with a laugh, even in the worst situations. But right now? That usual warmth was absent. It was unsettling.

“Having a sibling,” Antonio continued, pulling Gilbert’s attention back to him. “you can understand how demoralizing it would be to be separated from them.”

His voice held a fragile quality, like he was speaking from experience. Except… he wasn’t.

Antonio had no siblings. He’d never had to experience that kind of loss. But the way he spoke, as if he had, made it clear he sympathized deeply. Because that’s the kind of person he is, isn’t it? Always feeling for others, even when the pain wasn’t his to bear.

He forced a weak smile, but it barely lingered before he lowered his gaze to the cluttered desk. His fingers resumed their idle tapping against the wood, a restless, absentminded motion.

Gilbert almost couldn’t help but feel… surprised. He hadn’t seen Antonio like this since they’d fought side by side in war.

Another sigh. This time, the brunet’s shoulders visibly slumped. He stopped fidgeting with his hands and instead pushed a few papers away, like he didn’t want to see them while discussing this.

“I wish I could answer your question,” he admitted, voice soft—like someone who felt responsible for something they couldn’t control. “But I, myself, don’t have a real answer.”

Gilbert blinked.

What?!

That wasn’t the response he had expected. Not at all.

Antonio was supposed to know what was happening in his own court. Wasn’t he?

Lovina held a high-status position as his wife’s lady-in-waiting—so, yes, she was part of his court. And not just that. Antonio cared about her far more than he did most courtiers—way more. Hadn’t he written as much in his letters? That he was fond of her, that he saw her as his protégée or whatever?

If that was true, and it was, then how could he not know? It didn’t make any sense!

Gilbert tried to keep his expression neutral, but the slight furrow in his brow gave him away. His friend’s response was nothing short of disappointing.

“So…” He attempted to keep his voice steady, given that Antonio was already down in the dumps. “They don’t send letters…” Yet it came out more like a cold statement than merely an observation.

Antonio exhaled, louder this time, as if the words themselves weighed on him.

“That’s not it…” he said, and just like that, Gilbert’s disappointment eased—if only a little.

Not it? So… Antonio did know something after all! Yes! Go on, Toni! Gilbert silently urged him forward with a small nod, and Antonio obliged.

“Lovina sent her sister a few letters when she first arrived here, but she’s yet to receive a response. Or perhaps they haven’t even arrived in Austria yet… We can’t be too certain.”

Gilbert frowned.

"Not arrived yet?" he echoed. That didn’t sit right with him.

It had been months since the sisters were separated. A letter between the Austrian and Spanish Empires typically took about a month—at most.

That kind of delay wasn’t normal.

“How so?” he pressed, unease curling in his gut.

Why weren’t they certain?

Just why hadn’t there been a response?

Antonio leaned back slightly, rubbing his temple before glancing Gilbert’s way again. His expression was unreadable, but the hesitation in his movements wasn’t.

“You know how Austria has been dealing with internal strife ever since taking sovereignty over the northern part of the Italian Kingdom? Unrest among the nobility, uprisings in certain regions, people not too pleased with a Latin-based country becoming part of their empire, and so on?”

Gilbert nodded slowly. He knew all about the chaos brewing in Austria. His cousin had confided in him before he left for Spain. Taking over the Italian Kingdom had been meant to stabilize things, not create more problems… but it seemed the Austro-Hungarians weren’t exactly thrilled about that.

Still, what did any of that have to do with a few letters between sisters?

He raised a brow. “Uh… yeah?”

Antonio gave a small nod, fingers drumming absently against the desk. He stopped only to clench his hand into a loose fist, as if the subject unnerved him. And, in all honesty, it probably did.

“With all the unrest,” the Spaniard continued, “couriers are likely delayed or intercepted. And that could continue for the rest of the year—or at least until the political instability settles. If the letters arrived at all, they may have been held up by bureaucratic disorder.”

With that, he lightly slammed his fist against the desk—not in frustration, but more like he was stopping himself from fidgeting.

Gilbert clenched his jaw.

Oh. Right.

That would explain it. When a country was dealing with its own internal struggles, whether war, rebellion, or political shifts, communication slowed to a crawl.

Only letters tied to politics or sent by monarchs themselves were guaranteed to make it through…

Everything else?

Tossed aside, lost in the shuffle.

And given that the former Italian princess was just that, a former princess, her letters held no real significance…

Antonio exhaled, pressing a thumb to his temple. “It’s the same if her sister had sent any letters. They just get blocked by Austria’s bureaucratic mess.”

Gilbert’s fingers curled slightly without him realizing. So, to answer his own question, based on what Antonio had just told him…

They hadn’t spoken at all.

No wonder Lovina had snapped at him the moment he mentioned her sister yesterday…

Antonio sighed again, quieter this time, his gaze drifting out the window. He looked almost wistful, like a father lost in thought.

“You know…” he began hesitantly. “I’ve tried my best, and so has Emma, to make sure Lovina doesn’t feel deprived of the things she was accustomed to. She lives in the castle, continues her studies just as she would have in Italy, has an entourage… I couldn’t restore her old title, but the least I could do was ensure her life wasn’t too different from before.”

There was a heaviness to his words, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was explaining to Gilbert.

The white-haired King said nothing, watching as Antonio leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, fingers threading together.

“She was devastated when she arrived,” he admitted, voice lower now. “Barely left her room. Refused to speak to anyone. Just glared and scowled…” A humorless breath of a laugh left him, followed by a slow shake of his head. “At first, we helped her out of obligation—Emma especially took to her out of empathy, given everything she’d lost. But then… something changed.”

Gilbert tilted his head slightly, waiting.

“When Lovina finally started coming out of her room, showing interest in things around the castle, trying to interact with the court, even with the language barrier, we saw a different side of her. Those rare moments when she smiled instead of scowled…” He exhaled. “It was like she lit up the whole room.”

Yeah… tell me about it… The thought surfaced absentmindedly in the Prussian’s mind. He could still picture the way she had laughed at the mistranslation they’d stumbled through. It had caught him off guard—how different she looked when she was happy. Bright, warm, as though she belonged somewhere far from all the politics and troubles weighing her down…

Antonio’s expression softened, his voice quieter when he spoke again.

“You could say she’s become a bit like a daughter to us, even though she’s only a few years younger.” He let out a small, self-deprecating laugh, rubbing a hand over his face as if exhausted by the thought.

Gilbert studied him, sensing there was more.

Then Spaniard hesitated, just for a second, but his next words landed heavier than all the rest.

“Emma and I… we want to make those rare moments more frequent... we want to keep Lovina from ever feeling sad or angry again, to soothe her mind...” He tightened his grip for a moment before suddenly letting his hands fall flat against the wooden surface, as if in resignation. “But…”

He faltered. His expression darkened.

Then, finally, he turned to Gilbert, his green eyes weighed down by something uncharacteristic.

Guilt.

“She misses her sister, Gil…”

The words were even softer than before, yet they carried the greatest significance.

Gilbert stiffened. That look on Antonio’s face—it was so unlike him…

And it made something twist uncomfortably in his chest…

"Huh…"

He had done nothing to deserve that guilt-ridden stare, yet somehow, he felt it too…

“That’s why she got so defensive with you yesterday. You remember that, right?” Antonio’s voice broke through Gilbert’s thoughts, drawing his attention once again.

Gilbert gave a stiff, uncertain nod. How could he forget?

"She heard you mention her sister and immediately asked about her well-being. That’s what Emma told me after speaking with her… that Lovina admitted she’s worried about her younger sister."

The Prussian’s throat tightened, and he briefly looked away. Yeah, she’s worried... He’d already come to that conclusion back in the library. But hearing it spoken aloud, confirmed, made it feel so much more real. If that even made sense.

Antonio shook his head, sighing deeply. “I wish I could do more. But I can’t send letters under my name… it would be unlawful. I can’t take her to see her sister myself… I’m duty-bound here.” He gestured to the chaotic stacks of paperwork on his desk.

“I was already behind after my sudden trip to the Italian Kingdom, and now, with this new territory under my rule, my responsibilities have only multiplied. Lovina can’t travel alone, and Emma is just as tied down as I am.”

Another sigh, another tired rub of his temple, and the Prussian, seeing him like this, couldn’t help but feel a genuine sense of sympathy.

“So, to answer your question again… I don’t know what’s become of their relationship. They haven’t been able to communicate since they were separated.”

Antonio’s gaze finally met Gilbert’s again, and in it, Gilbert saw more than guilt—there was something deeper, something sharper. Culpability. He feels responsible...

But as much as Gilbert tried to push the thought aside, especially considering the Spaniard was one of his closest friends and allies, he couldn’t help but acknowledge it—in a way, he should feel guilty. He had played a part in this separation. He ruled the southern Italian lands now, and his decisions had put the sisters on different paths. But despite the power he had wielded to bring this about, there was nothing he could do now, based on what he’d said. No matter how much he wanted to, the damage was already done.

Gilbert stared at Antonio for a moment, processing what he’d just shared. So, Lovina hadn’t heard from her sister since the division of the Italian Kingdom… That must have been tormenting. Putting himself in her shoes, he could barely stand the thought of losing contact with his own sibling. He’d probably go mad, not knowing whether his kid brother was safe. And she was an older sibling, too…

“That is…” Gilbert began, his voice trailing off. He found no words that could adequately touch on the depth of what was being said. He had nothing to offer, nothing that could change things. “Unfortunate…” he finally said, the word sounding hollow in his own ears. It didn’t feel right, not in the slightest. But it was all he had.

“Yes, I know…” Antonio’s voice softened, his gaze dropping for a moment as his shoulders slumped, as if the weight of his own guilt had become too much to bear. He exhaled, then looked back at Gilbert with a weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“But…!” He suddenly straightened, shaking off the heaviness, a spark of energy returning to his posture. Rising to his feet, he stepped over to Gilbert and gave his forearm a few light pats. “I shouldn’t darken your mood with this. You’re supposed to be relaxing on this trip.” His smile grew a bit warmer, a little more genuine. “If you change your mind about going to town later, my court will assist you.”

Gilbert managed a half-smile in return, but it lacked any real warmth. It was hard to relax with this kind of information lingering in his thoughts…

The Spanish Emperor glanced at the pendulum clock on the wall, his expression changing once more. “I should get back to work if I hope to finish signing these legislations before dinner…” He muttered the last part more to himself than anyone else. With a final smile, he added. “Well, if that’s all, I’ll get back to it then.”

Gilbert blinked, eyeing the mountain of papers cluttering Antonio’s desk. He felt a twinge of guilt for taking up his time, but still...

“Ah, yes, sorry for bothering you with this… I was just… curious…” He hesitated, his voice uncertain. “Since… I also… have a sibling…” He started to explain himself again, but Antonio raised a hand, stopping him with a shake of his head.

“No, no, I understand,” the brunet said warmly, offering a reassuring smile. “You’ve got a good heart.”

Gilbert opened his mouth to protest, but before he could get the words out, a knock came at the door. Several advisors filed in, speaking first in Spanish to Antonio, bowing respectfully. When they turned to Gilbert, their greeting came in English. “Your Highness,” they said, each of them offering a bow.

“Ah, yes, right!” Antonio exclaimed, quickly refocusing, as if snapping back to reality. He gave Gilbert an apologetic glance. “Sorry, I wish we could talk more, but…” His eyes flicked to the chaotic stacks of papers. “If I want to dine with my wife tonight, I have to finish this first…”

“Right, of course, sorry again…” Gilbert stepped backward, bowing his head slightly, though it felt awkward now. He turned to leave, but not without one last glance back at Antonio. The Emperor flashed him another smile, this one a little more tired, a little more strained.

Gilbert managed a return smile, but it still felt rather forced. Damn… This whole conversation had unsettled him more than he’d like to admit…

The advisors quickly moved to their tasks, gathering papers with quiet efficiency, their footsteps barely audible on the wooden floor.

The door shut behind Gilbert with a soft click, and for a moment, he stood still in the hallway, his thoughts tangled in a way he couldn’t quite sort out.

His court surrounded him in silence, sensing the shift in his mood. He stared ahead, lost in thought. Lovina had no idea whether her sister was safe, and the thought troubled him more than he cared to admit…

Maybe it was because he understood how devastating it would be to lose contact with his own sibling. Or maybe… it was something else—something he couldn’t quite name. But whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he knew the truth: her sister was safe and sound, living comfortably in Austria, and missing her older sister just as much… And for some reason, he felt an undeniable urge to tell Lovina. She deserved to know. It wasn’t right for her to be left in the dark.

But as the thought settled, so did another realization. He didn’t want her to hear this secondhand—not through a messenger... Not like before, when he’d spoken to her in town and had to rely on her handmaid to translate. This wasn’t something for others to know. This was meant for her ears alone… or perhaps…

Suddenly, an idea struck him.

His red eyes flickered with resolve as he recalled the Italian dictionary he had used earlier to look up the word for sister.

Her own eyes…!

A grin spread across his face—finally, after all that melancholy. He knew exactly how he was going to tell her.

Snapping his fingers, he caught the attention of his court. “I got it!” he declared, his voice brimming with triumph—and relief. If his idea worked, he might just be able to ease the girl’s mind! He was determined to make it happen.

Now… why, you may ask? Well… because he was just that awesome. Even Antonio had pointed it out—he had a good heart, though he'd never admit it. And because he also sympathized with Lovina. As he'd reminded himself more than once, he had a sibling too, and he understood all too well how horrible it would feel to be in her shoes. If he could ease her mind, even just a little, why wouldn't he? After all, It was the right thing to do.

The court exchanged confused glances, and one of the officials—the more authoritative one—spoke up in German. “Got… what exactly, Your Majesty?”

Gilbert shot him a quick, proud look before gesturing grandly. “Take me back to that library I was just reading in!”

The court bowed, ready to comply, though there was a hint of reluctance in the tone of the same official. “Right away, Your Majesty. But… we should call upon a Spanish court member who knows the way there. We were guided here by one, and we ourselves don’t know where the library is…”

Gilbert paused, momentarily forgetting that he wasn’t the only one unfamiliar with the layout of the palace.

“Right.”

Chapter Text

As soon as one of Antonio’s Spanish attendants arrived to escort Gilbert and his court back to the library, Gilbert wasted no time. Settling at the desk, he pulled the dictionary closer, grabbed a piece of paper, and, with a quick request, had an attendant bring him a quill and a small ink tank. By now, it wasn’t hard to guess what his brilliant plan entailed…

If you guessed writing a letter—congratulations! That’s right. Gilbert’s grand solution to informing Lovina about her sister was simple: write her a letter, hand it off to an attendant, and have it delivered straight to her chambers. She’d read it, realize her sister was perfectly fine, and that would be that. Truly, he should pat himself on the back for such genius.

But wait—some of you may be wondering: Gilbert, how exactly do you plan to write a letter to the former Italian princess when she doesn’t understand any of the languages you speak?

Ah, well… that’s what the dictionary was for! He wasn’t going to write in German or English—no, he was going to write in Italian. Of course, it wouldn’t be easy. Looking up every word would take ages, and there was no doubt he’d butcher the grammar. But it wasn’t like he had anything better to do with his spare time. And besides, this whole situation had been weighing on him. He wanted to reassure Lovina. He wanted, as Antonio had put it, to make her feel the opposite of sadness and sorrow. To make her happy.

…She really was quite pretty when she smiled.

Whoa—no, no, focus! He was getting distracted. Right. Time to write a letter to Miss Lovina Vargas. In Italian.

With a determined look, Gilbert pulled the paper closer, poised to let the ink touch the page—only to hesitate almost immediately.

Wait.

It would be easier to write in German first, then translate it. That way, he wouldn’t have to fumble through the dictionary while also figuring out what to say. Yes, that was smarter.

With that settled, he grabbed another sheet and began in his native tongue:

"To Miss Lovina Vargas,"

The letter itself didn’t take long. He kept it presentable but not overly formal—after all, he wanted to sound friendly, not distant. Too much formality would make him seem cold, and that was the last thing he wanted.

At one point, his attendants asked if he was writing to his brother in Germany. He quickly denied it. No, this letter was for someone here, in this very castle—someone who didn’t speak German. Which meant he needed to translate it into Italian. He explained this while still mulling over how to phrase certain ideas he needed to convey…

That was when his attendants started looking truly confused. By now, they could probably guess who the letter was for, but what baffled them was why their king was about to spend hours struggling through a language he didn’t even know. Wouldn’t it be easier to have one of the Emperor’s attendants translate his message into Spanish and deliver it verbally? Lovina spoke Spanish, after all.

But, well… he was their king. And if their king had decided that painstakingly translating an entire letter himself was the best course of action, then who were they to argue? At the very least, they could only hope he knew what he was getting himself into…

After half an hour—maybe more—Gilbert finally finished the German draft. He had put real effort into making it sound soothing, and honestly, he was rather proud of how he phrased it.

He began with a simple introduction, acknowledging that he now understood why Lovina had been acting… not strange, no—melancholic in his presence. He apologized for being so oblivious, admitting that, in hindsight, it should have been obvious. Then, he wrote everything he knew about her sister, Feliciana—what he had gathered from speaking with the younger Italian herself, what his brother had told him, and what Roderich and Elizabeta had shared. Every detail he could offer about her well-being, which, he reassured, was very good.

Now, all that was left was to translate it.

Gilbert grabbed a fresh sheet of paper, quill in hand, and glanced at the Italian dictionary. So many pages… The thought drifted through his mind, and he could already tell this would take a while—perhaps even longer than that. But still, he was determined to see it through! Gilbert Beilschmidt was not one to back down!

With a quiet huff, he turned to the section that contained the words he needed for his opening line:

"To Miss Lovina Vargas,”

First word: To.

And so, the painstaking process began…

…

The first hour crawled by…

Wow! That must mean a lot of progress had been made, right? An hour was plenty of time, after all!

Except… no. Not in this case.

Gilbert had barely managed to translate the second paragraph, and what he had was a mess—words scribbled out, entire sentences crossed through, “X” marks scattered across the page where grammar mistakes lurked, waiting to trip him up.

He exhaled sharply and leaned back, only then noticing how crumpled the paper had become. Every time he messed up, he took it out on the page, pressing his frustration into the ink and fibers. In hindsight, that only made things worse…

Blinking at the disaster before him, he dragged a hand down his face, rubbing at his tired eyes as if that might somehow sharpen his focus. His neck ached from hunching over the desk, his fingers stiff from gripping the quill too tightly. With a sigh, he rolled his shoulders, stretched his arms, and finally set the quill down. He needed a break…

He had known this translation would be anything but easy—he had willingly walked into this, fully aware it would be a long and exhausting process. But… he frowned, irritation bubbling up as he realized just how many times he had misspelled the word for “unfortunately” in Italian.

Damn it. Even his royal paperwork didn’t give him this much of a headache…

Well… maybe that was because he could actually understand his royal paperwork, but that was beside the point…

His court members, who had been silently observing the battle between their king and the so-called Italian language (which, by all accounts, seemed to be winning), exchanged wary glances. They knew he had come to the Spanish lands not only to congratulate his friend on his new territory but also to escape his duties and relax—if only for a while.

Yet, judging by the way his brows were furrowed and how he kept rubbing his eyes in frustration, this was anything but relaxing. If anything, it was beginning to worry them.

After a moment of hesitation, one of the officials—the more courageous of the bunch—finally stepped forward.

“Your Majesty,” the official began cautiously, drawing the young king’s attention. Gilbert’s gaze drifted from the paper to him, one brow raised in mild curiosity. Taking this as permission to continue, the official pressed on.

“Please, allow us to handle this task for you. It is tedious work, and we do not wish to see you overexert yourself—”

Yet…

He never got the chance to finish.

Gilbert cut him off with a flick of his hand, already turning back to the scribbled mess on his desk, his expression set in stubborn determination.

“No, no. I’ve got this.” his voice was clipped, his attention already sinking back into the ink-stained battlefield before him.

“Uh…” the same official let out a small noise of disbelief, glancing at the others as if to confirm that they, too, found this situation absurd. Seeing no one else willing to challenge their stubborn king, he sighed and relented.

“Of course, Your Majesty…”

Still, he—like the rest of the court—wasn’t convinced that Gilbert truly had this. Frankly, neither was Gilbert.

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t even made it halfway through the letter. The last time writing had felt this tedious was during his childhood lessons, when his father forced him to attend them. He remembered how much he had despised writing assignments, the endless drills, the corrections that never seemed to end…

No, no—focus. He sighed and straightened. This was no time to reminisce about his princely years; he needed to concentrate.

As tempting as it was to accept his official’s offer and let someone else handle the translation, something in him refused. This letter was for Lovina’s eyes alone. Letting another person write it would cheapen it somehow, even if he couldn’t quite explain why.

But… his gaze flicked back to the page—the misspellings, the ink stains, the crossed-out words. He couldn’t give her something riddled with mistakes, either.

Exhaling softly, he gestured toward the paper without looking up, drawing his court’s attention. “I believe I need a few more sheets.”

The official who had spoken earlier bowed at once, then signaled an attendant, who quickly returned with a fresh stack. Gilbert muttered a gruff thanks before turning back to the latest wreckage of his translation. The longer he stared at it, the less proud he felt.

You know what? He mumbled to himself. He’d just rewrite the last few lines neatly before moving forward…

That should be simple enough… right?

WRONG!

And why was that?

Well… it was more of a him problem than anything…

His eyes kept jumping to the wrong line in the dictionary, leading to mistranslations he only caught too late. Too late. Which meant crossing out entire sentences and starting over—otherwise, it wouldn’t make any sense. Or he’d get halfway through rewriting a sentence, only to realize the verb was in the wrong tense. Again.

Each mistake made his grip on the quill tighten. Every correction piled another stone onto his patience. When he struck through yet another botched sentence, irritation burned in his chest. For a brief, dangerous moment, he thought the quill might snap from the pressure. (Clearly, not the best way to handle his frustration.)

And then, as if the universe was determined to test him further, he noticed a smudge of ink on the paper.

The black stain spread across the page like a personal insult. Honestly? He felt defeated.

Gilbert let out a strangled groan and dropped his quill onto the desk with a sharp thunk—because if he hadn’t, he definitely would’ve needed to ask for a new one. (You know what I’m implying.)

His forehead met his palm, and for a moment, he seriously considered smacking himself outright. How was he this bad at translating a single letter? Not a book, not official documents—just a letter.

C’mon, Gilbert, he told himself. You’ve fought through wars. You’ve endured hardships that would break lesser men. How is a damn letter defeating you?!

Instead, with a loud sigh, he let his head fall forward onto the desk, right beside the ruined paper he could no longer bring himself to look at.

At the sound of his exasperated sigh, his attendants—who had been quietly occupying themselves around the library, either reading or tending to minor tasks—flinched. Their gazes immediately snapped back to their king.

Seeing him like this, so clearly discouraged, reignited the concern that had momentarily drifted while they busied themselves. Once again, they exchanged wary glances before their attention returned to their ruler.

This time, a different official stepped forward, hesitating only briefly before daring to speak.
“Your Majesty…” His voice was edged with caution.

Gilbert didn’t lift his head from the desk. Probably still sulking. But he was listening.

Taking that as permission to continue, the official pressed on.

“Please, we once again request that you allow us to take over.”

No response. Encouraged, the official took another step closer.

“We will finish neatly what you have started—”

Though… he never got the chance to finish.

Gilbert shot upright so suddenly it was almost startling. A deep scowl twisted his face, and his eyes flashed with a silent but unmistakable: Absolutely not.

That shut the court up pretty quickly.

Without another word, the official who had spoken bowed in understanding and quietly retreated, returning to whatever he had been doing before. No one else dared to make another offer.

Gilbert took a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down, then reached for yet another fresh sheet of paper. He was going to win this battle. The letter was not going to defeat him.

But before rewriting everything he’d managed to translate so far, he decided it was better to just finish the damn translation first—mistakes and all. Then, once the whole thing was done, he’d rewrite it neatly from the beginning. No crossed-out words, no ink smudges.

Yup. Great plan.

He cast a wary glance at the dictionary beside him, its once-pristine pages now slightly crumpled—maybe even stained with ink.

Well… it had survived this war so far. Whether it would survive him by the end of the night was another matter entirely…

With one last deep breath, he forced himself to keep going.

Way to go, Gilbert!

More time passed. An hour? Maybe longer? Gilbert had stopped keeping track. The golden light spilling through the windows had deepened to orange, casting long shadows across the floor as evening gave way to night.

His neck ached, his back protested, and his fingers were stiff from gripping the quill for so long. But at last—finally—he set it down and exhaled, staring at the four pages before him. Messy. Scribbled. Full of crossed-out lines and ink stains.

But finished.

He slumped back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He had actually seen this through to the end. Not that he was one to quit, but there were moments when he thought this cursed translation might break him. (It hadn't.)

Still, relief was fleeting. The hardest part was done, but he wasn’t finished yet. He still had to rewrite it neatly.

Oh well. At least that part would be easier.

Rolling his shoulders, he reached for a fresh sheet of paper and dipped his quill into what little ink remained. With careful hands, he arranged the translated pages in order, ready to begin again. This time, there would be no mistakes. (Because if he had to redo another page, he just might put his head through the desk.)

Pushing through the exhaustion, he forced himself to focus. Every stroke of the quill was deliberate, every letter carefully formed. No hurried scribbles. No second-guessing. Just the steady rhythm of ink gliding over parchment.

And at last, when he lifted his quill for the final time, he knew—this was it.

He set everything else aside and held up the finished letter, scanning the words with tired eyes. The exhaustion was still there, weighing heavy on his body…

But beneath it?

A quiet, undeniable sense of accomplishment.

It wasn’t perfect. He knew that much. There were probably mistakes lurking somewhere, phrases that weren’t quite right…

But that didn’t matter.

Because he had done it!

And that, at least, was something to be proud of.

An accomplished grin spread across Gilbert’s face as he admired the results of his hours-long battle with ink and paper. Despite the smudges and crossed-out words littering the discarded drafts, this—the final, neatly written letter—was a victory.

His court seemed to notice his sudden shift in mood as well. Heads turned, gazes drifting his way. One of them, emboldened by the change, stepped forward.

“Your Majesty, if I may ask… have you finished writing your letter?”

At that, Gilbert practically beamed. Despite his weariness, he nodded with enthusiasm.

“Yes! Yes, I have!” he announced triumphantly.

A small round of applause followed—not because writing a letter was an extraordinary feat, but because their king had spent hours stubbornly pushing through it, refusing all help. After witnessing that ordeal firsthand, they figured he deserved a little encouragement.

Gilbert smiled at them, acknowledging their gesture with a nod before stretching his stiff limbs. Then, with care, he folded the letter and set it on the desk.

His eyes swept the room for a wax seal, but finding none within reach, he gestured to one of his attendants. "Please, bring me a seal." he ordered.

The attendant bowed and hurried off, returning moments later with the necessary materials. Gilbert muttered a quick thanks, then turned his full attention back to the letter. Carefully, he dripped hot wax onto the folded paper, watching as it pooled against the surface. Before it could cool, he pressed an emblem into it—one bearing a Spanish crest, likely Antonio’s. The wax set within moments, and he picked up the sealed letter, turning it over in his hands.

Pride swelled in his chest, stronger than before. It was officially ready. Ah, he was so awesome! But that fleeting self-satisfaction faded as another thought took its place—something far more important.

Lovina.

He imagined the relief on her face as she read the letter, the reassurance she would feel knowing her sister was safe at Roderich’s palace. No more worry gnawing at her… His proud grin softened into something quieter, more genuine. Every bit of frustration, every ink-smudged mistake, every painstakingly rewritten sentence had been worth it…

So worth it.

With that thought, he called an attendant over and handed him the letter. "Deliver this to Miss Vargas’s chambers." His voice was firm, yet there was a certain softness beneath it, still lingering after thoughts of her.

The attendant bowed. "Of course, Your Majesty. Right away."

Gilbert watched as the man turned and left the library, the soft click of the door echoing in the vast space.

It was done.

Finally, he exhaled and stretched, rolling his shoulders to shake off the stiffness from hours spent hunched over his desk. Almost instinctively, his gaze flicked to the clock. When he saw the time, his eyes widened slightly.

“Woah, it’s nearly eight?”

He had really spent that long on this? Oh well. Time wasted on a noble cause wasn’t wasted at all.

With that in mind, he turned to one of his officials. “Can you find out if the Emperor has finished his duties for the day?”

He wanted to know if Toni would be able to dine with him and the rest because—well, only now did he realize just how starving he was. He’d been so focused on the letter that he hadn’t noticed, but the lightheadedness and gnawing emptiness in his stomach made it clear. He could probably eat a horse. And that wasn’t even an exaggeration.

The official nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.” With a bow, he departed the library to fulfill his task.

Gilbert lingered for a moment before settling more comfortably into his chair… and certainly not in a manner befitting a king. But honestly? When one’s back hurt like this, regal posture could go to hell.

Now, all he could do was wait.

Yet, as he sat there, trying to think about what he’d put in his stomach, his mind kept drifting back to the letter. To Lovina receiving it. To her reading the words he had spent hours carefully piecing together…

Would she be surprised? Touched? Maybe she’d scoff at his efforts… or worse, fail to understand anything at all if his translation was too clumsy…

He exhaled, resting his head in his hand.

Whatever the case, he just hoped it would bring her some peace of mind—that she would finally know her sister was safe. That she would have one less reason to worry…

A small smile tugged at his lips. Well… that’d definitely ease his mind, too.

.
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The heavy wooden door groaned open, its creak echoing through the empty room. A flickering candle cast a dim glow, its light barely enough to push back the deepening dusk. As the door swung fully open, a young woman stepped inside, her displeasure evident in the tight set of her mouth. Behind her, an older woman followed, holding the candle that illuminated the space.

Lovina Vargas moved toward the bed and sat down heavily, pressing a hand to her face as if to rub away her weariness. Her long, dark brown hair hung loose over her shoulders, and in the low light, her eyes wavered between green and brown. A small frown creased her brow. She let out a quiet sigh and fell back against the mattress, sinking into its comfort.

The older woman moved the candle closer, casting a flickering light over the girl before clicking her tongue in disapproval.

“Miss Vargas, you shouldn’t throw yourself onto the bed while still fully clothed,” the handmaiden chided gently, setting the candle on the nightstand. She placed her hands on her hips, fixing the Italian girl with a lecturing look. “I know those long English lessons have worn you out, but don’t forget—you are still expected to dine with Their Imperial Majesties and that Prussian king.” She gave a small nod, as if to remind Lovina of the evening’s importance.

At that, Lovina immediately sat up, the earlier frown vanishing from her face. Her eyes widened slightly.

“The Prussian king…” she muttered, more to herself than to the woman beside her. Looking away, she stared down at her feet.

The Prussian king…

That guy. That strange guy. That very strange guy…

Her mind drifted back to their earlier meeting. That morning, he had walked in on her while she was playing the piano—rather miserably, at that. She had been thinking about her sister, playing an old Italian piece she had memorized as a child, a song heavy with sadness. The melody had only deepened her longing for Feliciana and the time they had spent together before everything fell apart.

One day, just like that, they had been separated. Neither of them knew what would become of the other. They had lost their titles because their grandfather… he…

Lovina narrowed her eyes for a moment before sighing.

No use dwelling on unpleasant memories now. She was supposed to be thinking about the Germanic nation’s king. Right. Where was she?

Oh, right—when he had walked in on her in the music room.

That had been a rather blunt move, which had honestly startled her. Just what kind of man barges in on a girl who’s alone in a room and tries to talk to her in solidarity? A moronic one, definitely!

But, well… she supposed she couldn’t entirely blame him.

Once she got past her initial surprise, she had actually wanted to speak with him too—because that man knew her sister. How? She wasn’t entirely sure. All she knew was that, according to the Empress’s translation, he had said she reminded him of Feliciana.

But how could she remind him of someone he didn’t know? That wasn’t possible. Which meant he had met Feliciana.

And given that neither she nor her sister had ever laid eyes on such a bizarre white-haired, red-eyed man before their kingdom fell, that could only mean one thing: he had known Feliciana after their loss.

That was recent.

Which meant he could tell her everything—how Feliciana was doing, how she was being treated, what her life was like now…

Back in the music room, she had almost asked about her sister. Despite the language barrier, they had managed to communicate through gestures and strained understanding. She had been so close to learning what had happened to Feliciana—who had been sent to the Austrian Empire, a place she knew so little about…

The Spanish Emperor had, of course, assured her that the Austrian Emperor would take good care of Feliciana. But how much could she trust those words? Not a single letter had arrived from her sister. Not one.

That was what worried her most…

Lovina sighed. But… Their conversation had been abruptly interrupted and never resumed. There had been some duty activity the Empress and Emperor needed to attend to in town, and, for some reason, they’d dragged her along with the Prussian King. But instead of picking up where they left off, they had simply walked around in silence. Lovina had tried to speak to him just before they boarded the carriage to leave the town center, but what was the point? She didn’t speak any of his languages. So, she had quickly given up on that idea.

If only I could speak to him properly… she lamented. But she couldn’t. They didn’t share a common language, and the frustration gnawed at her.

She flopped back onto the bed, her gaze drifting to the slightly drawn curtains at the bedpost. The trip had felt completely unnecessary—at least for her. But... if she thought about it, maybe it hadn't been entirely a waste. There had been a few moments, strange as they were, with the red-eyed King that could almost be considered pleasant...

Almost entertaining, too.

There was a misunderstanding that made her think he was being rude, giving orders like he was flaunting his title—King—while she was just a former royal. But it turned out to be a mistranslation. He hadn’t said that at all. Perhaps the attendant who translated had been trying too hard to impress him. Either way, the panic on the Prussian’s face after the misunderstanding had been almost amusing. She couldn’t help but laugh a little at the time.

And then... he'd bought her fresh tomatoes—straight from the market. The thought made her exhale softly, though she couldn’t quite explain why. What an odd man, she mused. Yes, what an odd man indeed.

“Miss Vargas?” Her handmaiden’s voice snapped Lovina out of her thoughts. She blinked at the ceiling before sitting up again.

The older woman glanced at the pendulum clock in the dim room. “It’s already past eight in the evening… I’ll check with His Imperial Majesty’s attendants to see when you’re expected at dinner.” She turned to the nightstand, lifting the candle. “You should light the rest of the candles here—it’ll get dark very soon, alright?”

Lovina let out a small sigh—she wasn’t a big fan of having to do things—but nodded.

“Alright.”

Her handmaid offered a small smile before hurrying to the vanity to light a candle, ensuring Lovina wouldn’t be left in complete darkness. Then, without another word, she scurried to the door, opened it, and slipped out, shutting it behind her. The creak of the hinges echoed briefly in the quiet room.

For a moment, Lovina remained seated, lost in thought. But as the light from outside continued to fade, she glanced at the lone candle still burning and sighed.

Better light the others now before it got too dark to see anything…

She pushed herself up from the bed, smoothing out her dress before making her way to the vanity. Picking up the candle, she leaned toward another nearby and brought the flame close until it flickered to life.

Only then did Lovina notice something strange on her vanity.

“Hm?” A small noise escaped her as her gaze landed on a silver serving platter covered with a cloche. Her brows furrowed. That hadn’t been there before…

She glanced around the room as if to confirm it, then, intrigued yet confused, placed the candle in her hand back into its stand. Turning her attention to the silver platter, she tilted her head. Such trays were typically used to bring food to one’s chambers or deliver letters, but she hadn’t requested anything. That much was certain. So then…?

Her eyes narrowed as she reached out, grasped the cloche with both hands, and lifted it. The moment she saw what lay beneath, her suspicions were confirmed—a letter.

Lovina’s eyes widened. She quickly set the cloche aside, staring at the envelope as disbelief flickered across her face. Could it be? The thought danced in her mind, her heart leaping with cautious hope. Was this… a letter from her sister?

Before she could dwell on the possibility, she snatched up the envelope. A nervous sort of hesitation gripped her as she turned it in her hands, as if reading it would make the truth more real. Yet the moment her gaze landed on the seal—wax pressed with a distinctly Spanish motif—all her fleeting hope crumbled.

Oh.

It wasn’t from Feliciana.

She sighed, her excitement deflating into irritation. Just great. Someone from the castle, then.

Setting the letter back onto the platter, she dropped her head into her hands and sulked for a moment. She had really hoped… She scowled. Ugh. Who else could have possibly written to her? It wasn’t as if she talked to many people here—or outside the castle, for that matter.

That thought lingered before something struck her, and she abruptly straightened. Wait a moment…

She didn’t talk to many people here…

So then… who could have sent her a letter?!

“What…?” she muttered, picking it up again and turning it over in her hands.

It couldn’t be from the Emperor or Empress—if they wished to summon her, they would send an attendant. And it certainly wasn’t from her handmaiden; the woman had just been here, and besides, she saw Lovina nearly every waking moment. If she had something to say, she’d say it aloud.

Which left… no one.

Lovina blinked down at the envelope in her hands, utterly perplexed.

Just who had sent this?

Furrowing her brow, she turned it over once more, unsure what to expect—but whatever she’d imagined, it wasn’t this. As she unfolded the paper, her eyes flicked over the words, then widened in shock.

The letter… it was in Italian.

Lovina stared at the familiar words for a long moment, not truly reading them but taking in the handwriting, her expression still frozen in surprise. Another second passed before her eyes flicked over the rest of the letter, finally landing on the lower right side—where the sender’s name was signed.

And shock didn’t even begin to describe what she felt when she realized who had written it.

“Gilbert Beilschmidt…” The name slipped from Lovina’s lips before she could even process it.

She blinked at the words, her mind struggling to catch up. Gilbert Beilschmidt. Slowly, she lowered the letter to the table, her disbelief as obvious as a red rose in a field of white. Huh?! That was—the Prussian King’s name…! That was… that was… WHAT?!

Snatching the letter back up, she stared at the signature again, half-expecting to find she’d read it wrong. But no. The name was still there, clear as day. Gilbert Beilschmidt. The King of the Germanic Nation.

What? He had… written to her?

She gawked at the letter, her mind racing. Why? What reason could he possibly have? She searched for an explanation but found only one—her behavior toward him. She hadn’t exactly been polite or respectful… and he was a king, after all. Ah! Maybe that was it! A formal reprimand? A reproach for her lack of manners?

But—no. That didn’t make sense. He hadn’t struck her as the kind of man who cared about that. Not at all… especially after today.

Her gaze drifted back to the beginning of the letter, and her brows pulled together in even deeper confusion.

"Alla signorina Lovina Vargas," (To Miss Lovina Vargas,)

It was in Italian.

That, more than anything, unsettled her.

Had he ordered someone to write this? That seemed unlikely—hardly anyone here spoke Italian, so where would he have found a translator on such short notice? Then again, he was a king. Perhaps his court had someone on hand, or they’d hired a translator in the blink of an eye… But why Italian? Maybe he wanted to be certain she understood?

Lovina pursed her lips.

But why go through all that trouble? Spanish was spoken everywhere here. If clarity was his goal, it would’ve been far easier to dictate the letter in his own language and have one of the many Spanish attendants translate it. She could read Spanish just fine. There was no need to take the extra step to ensure it was in her native tongue…

Her fingers tensed around the paper as her mind began to spin with possibilities. Maybe… she told herself, he had a reason for doing that…

She toyed with the letter far longer than she should have before exhaling and resting her elbows on the vanity. Lifting the paper to eye level, she braced herself. Enough speculation—she had to read it.

Her gaze fell on the opening line once more.

But this time, she didn’t stop there.

“To Miss Lovina Vargas,

This letter may come as a surprise—perhaps because of the language I’ve chosen to express what I feel must be said, or because we scarcely know each other, and writing to you so suddenly may seem improper. But rest assured, I do not write with bad news. On the contrary, I bring good news!

Before I go further, I should explain myself. I can imagine your surprise at seeing this letter written in your native tongue. Now, I must apologize if there are any glaring mistakes or oddly phrased sentences. As you well know, I do not speak this language, but I am relying on a dictionary to translate my thoughts so that you may read them with ease! At least, that is my hope. I cannot guarantee my translation will make perfect sense, but please bear with it until the end… I promise the news I have are worth it!

First, allow me to sincerely apologize for my ignorance when we first met. It should have been obvious, given your sorrowful reaction when I remarked that you resembled your sister, but I failed to understand at the time... I am not the most perceptive when it comes to reading others, it seems. However, you may already guess what my letter is leading to… That’s right—I know your sister. And I can only imagine how worried you must be for her. Trust me, I sympathize. I, too, have a sibling—a younger brother, in fact—and I cannot fathom what it would be like to go so long without knowing where he was or if he was safe.

With that in mind, I hope I can ease your worries, if only a little, by telling you what I know. Her name is Feliciana, correct? I have met her several times now. The first was when she had just arrived at my cousin’s palace. She was disoriented and upset—understandably so. I felt quite sorry for her. But do not worry—her sorrow did not last long. By my second visit, she was in much better spirits, engaging with those around her and even befriending my brother. My cousin, the Austrian Emperor, and his wife treat her kindly, allowing her to do as she pleases. She is cheerful and full of energy. By my later visits, she had already begun picking up the language, making communication with her much easier. She seems rather gifted in that regard—or perhaps it is a family trait? The Spanish Empress mentioned that you picked up Spanish very quickly as well.

That said, despite her good spirits, there are still moments when melancholy lingers—especially when she sees my brother and me together. I suspect it reminds her of you. It is clear that she misses you just as much as you miss her…

Ah, and before I forget—The Spanish Emperor informed me that you have sent letters to your sister but have yet to receive a response. I feel I must tell you that it is not because she did not write to you. She almost certainly did. However, due to certain political circumstances in my cousin’s empire, her letters have not yet reached you—nor have yours reached her. So do not be discouraged. She wants to speak with you just as much as you do with her. But, unfortunately, the circumstances don’t allow it…

This letter has already grown quite long, and I know translating it into Italian will take even longer. But before I end it, I want to assure you—if you have any questions about your sister, do not hesitate to ask! I will share everything I know.

Again, my apologies for my initial obliviousness. I hope this letter serves as a proper apology.

Best regards,
 Gilbert Beilschmidt”

Lovina blinked at the letter. Once. Twice. Three times. She stared at it as if it might disappear, as if she hadn’t actually read what she thought she had. But the paper was right there in her hands, the texture crisp beneath her fingers. It was real.

A second passed. Maybe two. Then—

“WHAAAT?!”

The exclamation burst from her lips as she scrambled to snatch the letter up again, her eyes racing over every line. Had she imagined it? Misread something? But no—nothing had changed. The words were still there, just as shocking as before.

Her fingers fumbled with the paper, her mind spinning. Confusion, disbelief, surprise—so many emotions hit her at once. But more than any of them, there was relief.

Her breath hitched. Slowly, she brought a hand to her mouth, as if to contain the flood of feelings welling up inside her. But the words slipped out before she could stop them.

“Feliciana… she… she’s doing well…”

She stared at the letter, reading and rereading the words, half-expecting them to vanish before her eyes. But they didn’t. The relief that had struck her moments ago deepened, expanding in her chest, threatening to overwhelm her.

“Feliciana…!” she breathed, her stunned expression melting into pure joy. Pressing the letter against her chest, she let out a relieved laugh—one she hadn’t felt in quite some time.

“My sister is fine! She’s doing fine! She—she’s fine!”

The words tumbled out as she pushed herself up from her seat, unable to stay still. She nearly twirled, caught in a rush of emotion. Feliciana was safe. She was well. She was happy! The knowledge sent her spinning around the room, her heart lighter than it had been in ages.

But as she paced around her quarters, hugging the letter as if it were a gift from God himself, a sudden thought struck her—one she had ignored in her excitement over her sister’s well-being.

Lovina froze mid-step. The joy on her face faltered, giving way to realization. Her eyes flicked back to the letter, skimming over the lines again.

The letter… it had been written by the Germanic King. In Italian.

The thought had escaped her in her initial excitement over the letter, but now, with the text before her once more, it returned, pushing aside her joy. She squinted slightly, scanning a few sentences. Now that she was paying attention, she could see it—the awkward phrasing, the mistakes, the odd translations. She had been so caught up in the news about her sister that she hadn’t noticed them. Yet even now, despite the errors, the meaning still came through.

Lovina blinked, her thoughts racing to make sense of it. The Prussian King… had he truly written this himself? Using nothing but a dictionary, as he claimed?

Shaking her head, she read through the letter again—probably for the twentieth time—before her gaze settled on a specific passage near the beginning. She lingered over the words, mulling them over:

“First, allow me to sincerely apologize for my ignorance when we first met. It should have been obvious, given your sorrowful reaction when I remarked that you resembled your sister, but I failed to understand at the time...”

She blinked at the words, a sense of wonder—or perhaps confusion—settling over her as she realized what they implied.

The King… he had taken the time to understand why she had acted so strangely toward him. He had noticed. He had thought about it—enough to reach a conclusion. And at the very beginning of the letter, he had apologized.

Apologized.

For not realizing the reason for her behavior sooner.

Lovina’s lips parted slightly in disbelief. She tilted her head, struggling to grasp his intent. But… why? she murmured, her eyes fixed on the paper before her.

Her gaze drifted toward the end of the letter, where another perplexing statement caught her attention. The King had also explained why she hadn’t received a response from her sister—and why Feliciana hadn’t received hers. Unfortunate political circumstances, as he had put it.

But that only raised more questions. How had he found out? Had he asked around? Or had he already known, given his status and his close ties to the Austrian Emperor? Perhaps… had he spoken to the Spanish Emperor himself?

She hadn’t known any of this. She had simply assumed there was a delay in the letters, never thinking to question it. If she had asked, the Emperor and Empress likely would have told her. But she hadn’t. She had assumed Feliciana simply hadn’t found the time to write back—because there was no way her younger sister wouldn’t have wanted to. If anything, Feliciana was just as emotional, if not more so, about their separation.

But now, as her gaze skimmed over the paragraphs explaining the missing correspondence, it all made much more sense.

And yet, the most important question lingered.

Why?

Why had he told her any of this? Why go through the effort?

Her eyes drifted lower, reading the final lines of the letter. He had even written that she could ask him anything about Feliciana—and he would answer.

Lovina’s grip on the letter tightened slightly.

Why?

Why put in so much time for someone he barely knew? Was it because of the Emperor and Empress? Had they urged him to do this? She had confided in the Empress about what had upset her upon meeting the Prussian King—was he merely doing this as a favor to them? Was there an ulterior motive?

Or… perhaps there wasn’t.

Perhaps he had done it simply because he wanted to.

If that was truly the case, Lovina couldn’t understand why. He was a king—an important figure with far greater concerns. Why would he care about easing the worries of a former princess? Someone with no title, no status—someone who, by all accounts, wasn’t worth his time?

She stared at the letter, her expression contemplative, studying it more intently than before, as if searching for the reasoning behind… this. All of this.

But after a long moment of thought, she simply exhaled softly and turned toward her vanity. Sitting down, she placed the letter before her.

Well, whatever the reason for his decision to write to her—to tell her all of this—and in a language he clearly didn’t understand (Her eyes flicked to one of the many mistakes she had initially overlooked but now stood out plainly. Seriously? She let out a quiet scoff. He wrote ‘purtroppo’ (unfortunately) with only one ‘p’ in the middle…)—she couldn’t deny that the gesture itself had taken time. And it was… thoughtful.

Despite herself, even with the lingering confusion, a small smile played on her lips. Faint, but there.

She had thought him strange when she first laid eyes on his uncanny features—his platinum-white hair, those sharp red eyes. Huh… Maybe that had been unfairly prejudiced of her…

Her gaze drifted toward the stack of blank paper beside her, the inkwell and quill she used for letters and lessons immediately catching her attention.

Well… for this alone, she supposed the least she could do was thank him. It was the proper, polite thing for a lady to do. (Not that politeness was her only reason. A small part of her was genuinely grateful, but she wouldn’t admit that out loud.)

With that thought in mind, she picked up the quill, dipped it into the ink, and pulled a fresh sheet of paper toward her. As she glanced at his letter once more, a thought crossed her mind…

Since he had started this in Italian, she might as well continue in kind.

He could translate it. He had a dictionary, after all.

The thought made her laugh softly to herself.

And with that, she began to write.

It didn’t take her long to write her response—perhaps fifteen minutes at most, given that Italian was her first language. Once finished, she read over it a few times to ensure it was coherent, then neatly folded the letter and set it aside. She would need something to seal it with…

Just as she was about to search her vanity for such an item, the sound of the door opening caught her attention.

She turned as the wooden door creaked open, the glow of the now-lit torches outside casting more light into the dim room. As expected, her handmaiden stepped in from the other side, a candle in hand.

Lovina blinked, momentarily pulled from her thoughts about letters.

The handmaid glanced at her first, then scanned the room as if searching for something. A flicker of disappointment crossed her face before she turned back to her mistress.

“Miss Vargas!” she exclaimed, glancing around the dim space once more. Only two candles—and the one in her hands—provided any light. She let out a small sigh, shaking her head.

“You didn’t light the candles!”

“Oh!” Lovina startled at the realization. She had been so caught up reading the Prussian King’s letter—and then writing her response—that she had completely forgotten what she was supposed to be doing. Quickly, she grabbed a candle and hopped off the chair.

“I forgot…” she admitted, moving as if to light them now, though it was already too late for that.

Her handmaid stepped forward and gestured for her to put the candle down.

“There’s no need now, young mistress,” she said. “You are expected in the dining hall—His Imperial Majesty has finished his duties for the day and has made it clear that he wishes for you and the Prussian King to dine with him and Her Imperial Majesty.” She gently took the candle from Lovina’s hands and blew it out, offering her a look of mild reproach. “I told you to light the candles so you wouldn’t have to sit in the dark.”

Lovina gave a small nod before turning and softly blowing out the last candle on the vanity.

“Alright then, Miss, let’s hurry so we don’t keep Their Imperial Majesties—and His Highness—waiting!” the handmaid urged, motioning for Lovina to follow.

The former princess moved to step forward but suddenly stopped. Her eyes landed on the folded letter resting on her vanity. Ah… she’d nearly forgotten..! Without hesitation, she snatched it up, tucking it carefully into her hands before hurrying toward the door, where her handmaid waited.

The older woman immediately noticed. Her gaze flicked to the paper her young mistress held so carefully, one brow raising in curiosity.

“And what is that you’re holding?” she asked, eyeing it with mild intrigue.

Lovina glanced between her handmaid and the letter, then let out a quiet, uncertain, “Uh…” as if she, too, was questioning it. She cleared her throat, shifting slightly.

“It’s a… well, ah,” she stammered before gathering herself. “Nothing of high importance, really! It’s just…” She hesitated again, then pressed on. “A letter for His Highness.”

Her handmaid’s brows lifted in surprise.

“A letter for His Highness?” she echoed.

Lovina nodded quickly.

The woman studied her for a moment, clearly perplexed, but didn’t push further. She could tell her young mistress wasn’t in the mood to explain the letter’s purpose or contents. Instead, she simply extended her hand with a small smile.

“Shall I hand this off to an attendant for delivery?”

Lovina’s face brightened slightly, and she nodded at once. “Mhm!”

The handmaid’s warm smile lingered as she took the letter. “Alright then, Miss Vargas.” She glanced down at the paper before looking back up. “I’ll have it wax-sealed as well.”

Lovina gave another firm nod, satisfied. And with that, they set off toward the main hall of the castle.

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.
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Gilbert was starting to see colors he probably shouldn’t be seeing… though that was likely just hunger-induced hallucination. So when his official arrived to inform him that Antonio had finished his duties for the day and that he was welcome to dine with the Spanish royals in the main hall, he practically leapt from his seat. Rushing to the official at the library door, he muttered a relieved “Finally!” through his teeth before addressing him properly.

He wasted no time instructing the Spanish court members to lead him there—because if he went another moment without food, Ludwig would end up king of their empire. His own court stared at him in horror, clearly unimpressed by the joke, while the Spaniards merely tilted their heads, not understanding a word of his German. With a huff, Gilbert waved off their reactions and simply told them to take him to Antonio—this time, without any remarks about starving to death, since they seemed to lack a sense of humor…

In no time, he was seated in the dining hall, opposite his two friends—and a certain former princess who, surprisingly, seemed to be in a far better mood than usual. She wasn’t smiling or anything, but there was no scowl, no irritated frown on her face. A definite improvement from earlier, when she had looked his way with such frustration before stepping into the carriage.

Now, though, she was staring at him with an unreadable expression. But unreadable in a good way… if that made any sense?

At first, Gilbert had barely noticed, too preoccupied with devouring whatever the butlers set before him. He hadn’t caught most of what Antonio or Emma had been saying, either—hell, for all he knew, they could have been discussing politics or making bets on when he’d finally keel over from starvation. But once his hunger was finally satisfied, his mind turned to more important matters.

For example: Why had Lovina been watching him so intently all throughout dinner?

He had a few guesses. The biggest one—had she received and read his letter? The thought sent a nervous jolt through him, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

And then there was the other matter. It wasn’t just Lovina staring at him anymore. The whole table had gone silent, every pair of eyes locked onto him with varying degrees of surprise and confusion. Emma and Antonio, in particular, looked outright confused.

Lovina, though—her gaze had shifted. The unreadable intensity in her eyes had morphed into something closer to panic. Then, just as suddenly, she tore her eyes away, looking down at her plate with a flustered expression.

Gilbert blinked. Huh?

What was that all about? Had someone asked him a question he hadn’t answered? Or worse—had he somehow answered without realizing it? Oh, hell. If that was the case, there was no telling what kind of nonsense he might have let slip. No wonder they all looked so baffled.

Clearing his throat, he was about to address whatever the issue was—if there was an issue—when a voice from one of his court members, speaking in German, cut him off.

"Your Majesty!"

Gilbert turned his head toward the voice, brow furrowed in confusion. His attendant looked startled for a moment but then let out a small sigh of relief.

"Apologies for raising my voice, Your Majesty, but I’ve been trying to get your attention for some time now..." He glanced off to the side, his expression tinged with concern. "And after the remark you made in the library, I grew even more worried seeing you so out of it!"

Ah. He’d tried to get his attention a few times? And Gilbert had only now heard him? Well then, that explained the stunned looks from everyone at the table…

Had he really been so focused on stuffing his face that he’d completely ignored his own attendant—right next to him—calling his name multiple times? Damn, Gilbert, he scolded himself, go too long without eating, and you’ll end up as disoriented as an old man.

With that thought firmly in mind, he turned his full attention to the attendant and let out a small laugh, hoping to ease the tension.

"Ah, then I suppose that's my bad. My head was in the clouds…" (Or rather, in the food… but he kept that thought to himself.)

He watched as his attendant finally relaxed, exhaling in relief. But even with that settled, Gilbert still had no idea why the man had been trying to get his attention in the first place.

His gaze drifted over his court member before shifting to one of Antonio’s attendants standing behind him—holding a silver platter covered with a cloche.

Hm?

The Prussian’s red eyes lingered on the mysterious display before flicking back to his own attendant. It didn’t take long for him to address the oddity in question.

"What’s that? Another course?"

Given that they were at the dinner table, it seemed a reasonable guess. But the plating here was gold, not silver. And all the previous courses had been served in the same elaborate style.

So… perhaps it wasn’t food.

His attendant shook his head, confirming Gilbert’s suspicions.

“No, Your Majesty, it’s a letter for you. That’s what I’ve been trying to get your attention for.”

He bowed and gestured for the Spanish attendant to step forward. With practiced precision, the man lifted the cloche, revealing a single letter resting in the center of the silver platter.

“A letter?” Gilbert echoed, eyeing it with confusion before reaching out and picking it up. He squinted at the envelope, turning it in his hands as he considered the possible senders. His brother? His cousin? Maybe Elizabeta?

But the Spanish wax seal ruled all of them out.

That realization made him pause. He wasn’t particularly well-acquainted with many noble families in Spain, and judging by Antonio and Emma’s equally puzzled expressions, neither of them had sent it.

With a quick motion, he broke the seal and unfolded the letter, eager to find out who had written it and what it said. But as soon as his eyes landed on the text, he froze.

Italian.

The letter was written entirely in Italian.

The significance of that fact didn’t take long to register. There was only one person in this castle who spoke the language fluently, and as his gaze dropped to the recipient’s signature, his suspicions were confirmed.

There it was, written in delicate, cursive script:

Lovina Vargas.

Shock flickered across Gilbert’s face as he blinked at the letter, then at the girl sitting across from him. She had received his letter.

She had read it.

And now, she had written back.

No wonder she had been staring at him all throughout dinner. And now he was staring at her.

A flood of thoughts surged through his mind. How had she reacted to his words? What did she think of him now? Did she believe he had pried too much into her past? Was she upset that he had gone out of his way to write her such a personal letter?

His brow furrowed slightly. No… That couldn’t be it. If his letter had upset her, she probably wouldn’t have written a response at all—let alone in her own native language...

That left only one possibility.

Gilbert glanced at her again, at the way she stubbornly kept her gaze fixed on her plate, her face uncharacteristically flustered.

This letter—whatever was written inside—had everything to do with her reaction.

His heart gave an odd little lurch as he turned his attention back to the envelope in his hands. He swallowed, blinking at it a few more times before finally attempting to read the first few lines.

Was he nervous? Or excited?

He wasn’t entirely sure. Either way, his heart rate had picked up, and there was that strange, twisting sensation in his gut.

Alright, just read it…

But reading was one thing. Understanding it was another.

His brow scrunched as he stared at the neatly written Italian, trying his hardest to decipher something. Anything.

But… he understood absolutely nothing.

Ah, damn.

His frustration must have been obvious, because his efforts did not go unnoticed…

"Gilbert, is everything alright?"

Emma’s voice cut through his concentration, and he quickly turned to her, looking startled.

He blinked. "Uh…" was all he managed to say.

Clearly, that didn’t ease her concerns.

"You looked very troubled by the letter you just received!" she pressed, her tone laced with worry. "You haven’t received bad news, have you?"

Only then did Gilbert realize how he must have looked—brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, so intently focused on the paper in his hands. From an outsider’s perspective, it probably did seem like he’d just read something concerning. When in reality, he was just struggling to understand a single word of it.

Shaking his head, he forced an awkward—but hopefully reassuring—smile.

"Oh, no, no! Nothing like that! Nothing to worry about, haha…!"

Emma and Antonio didn’t look entirely convinced. They exchanged glances before both raised an eyebrow at him.

"Then what is it about?" Antonio asked, blinking at him. "And who’s it from? Your brother?"

Gilbert glanced at the letter again before returning his gaze to Antonio, studying him for only a moment. He parted his lips to give an honest response—then hesitated.

Only now did it occur to him that he’d exchanged letters with the girl under Antonio’s own roof without mentioning a word of it to him or Emma. That… probably wasn’t the most proper thing to do.

So, instead, he opted for another answer. Not a lie, of course—just something that conveniently avoided answering the questions Antonio had just thrown at him.

"My brother?" he echoed, waving a dismissive hand with a small laugh. That earned him even more confused looks, but he pressed on. "No, not him. It’s just… a…" He paused for a second before continuing, "pen pal of mine… from… a warm country… yup!" He said the last part with confidence, despite how ridiculously vague it was.

"A warm country…?" Antonio repeated, his brow furrowing even further.

"Pen pal…?" Emma added, her expression just as puzzled. "Who—"

But Gilbert didn’t let her finish.

Springing to his feet, letter clenched tightly in his dominant hand, he offered them both a small, polite bow.

"Oh man, I’d love to chat longer, but—this!" He gestured to the letter. "Pressing matter. My… friend… from somewhere… very… somewhere-y… urgent business!"

Emma and Antonio stared.

"I’ll make it up to you, Toni," he added quickly, as if they’d already agreed. "We’ll go hunting when you’re free! And Em, waffles—soon! Very soon!" He let out another awkward laugh, then turned on his heel before either of them could protest.

His court members hurried to follow, but just before stepping out of the dining hall, he cast a glance toward Lovina.

She had finally lifted her head, staring at him with wide eyes—wider than before. She must have realized what letter he’d just received. Well, of course she did—it was from her, after all.

He wasn’t sure what expression he gave her in return, but he hoped it was one that wouldn’t make her read too much into his hasty departure. Truth be told, he’d left so quickly because he was eager—eager to translate her words, to finally understand how she felt about what he’d written.

He really wanted to know.

The doors shut behind the Prussian King, leaving the dining hall in momentary silence.

Antonio continued staring at the space where Gilbert had stood, his brow still knit in confusion. "I wonder what that was about…" he muttered, glancing at his wife—then at the young girl sitting beside her, who was staring at the doorway with a far more panicked expression than necessary.

He didn’t think much of it. Then again, Lovina did tend to act oddly when meeting new people… though perhaps not this oddly.

Turning back to Emma, he added, "You know, mi amor, this isn’t the only strange thing Gilbert’s done today."

Emma tilted her head. "Really?"

Her husband nodded. "He came to me with some pretty out-of-the-ordinary questions while I was still signing documents…"

As he said this, he cast another glance at Lovina, who was still staring at the spot where Gilbert had last stood.

Emma followed his gaze, taking in the scene before turning back to him with a thoughtful look.

"You don’t say…" she murmured.

Back in the library—where he had written his own letter in Italian not long ago—Gilbert returned in a flash, setting himself down in the exact same spot as before.

His red eyes flicked over Lovina’s letter once more, scanning the familiar cursive handwriting. With careful precision, he placed the paper neatly on the table before him, then reached for a fresh sheet of parchment. The same quill from earlier found its way into his hand, and he dragged the hefty dictionary closer—his most vital weapon in this mission.

His court stood by in silence, their confusion only deepening. But none of them dared question him.

After all, how much could a mere attendant reproach a monarch?

And so, Gilbert set to work.

Translation was faster than writing, but still no small task—especially when every word, every sentence, felt far more important than it probably should have. Time passed unnoticed as he pored over the letter, piecing together Lovina’s words one by one.

By the time night had fallen, the library was bathed in the flickering glow of candles and torches. His attendants had quietly lit the room, casting concerned glances at their King from a respectful distance.

None of them spoke.

They knew better than to interrupt him when he was so focused—so determined.

Besides… they knew how their King was.

Once Gilbert Beilschmidt got an idea into his head, there was little hope of pulling it out.

A bit more time passed, and the crescent moon had taken its rightful place in the sky, surrounded by a handful of larger stars—scattered like wildflowers in a vast field.

At last, Gilbert set down his quill. A quiet yawn slipped past his lips as his fingers brushed over the finished translation, the ink barely dry.

He didn’t know what time it was.

Frankly, he didn’t care.

Nor did it matter how tired he felt—the weight behind his eyes, the slight stiffness in his fingers—because all of his focus, all of his anticipation, was locked onto the words before him.

That restless excitement from before, the nerves twisting in his stomach, had only grown stronger. His fingertips were almost clammy against the parchment, his heartbeat picking up as he swallowed and took a steadying breath.

Then, finally, he lifted the paper in front of his eyes and began to read, his gaze scanning the clumsy, hastily written translation—the one he hoped made sense.

“To His Highness, Gilbert Beilschmidt,

I have never written to a King before, so I hope you will excuse my lack of grand words.

As for your letter… I cannot believe Your Highness took time from your day to write to me. I cannot begin to fathom why, but I suppose no one can read the mind of a King. Still, thank you—thank you for telling me my sister is well. That was all I wished to know…

Perhaps this explains why I may have been improper when we first met. You mentioned you knew her, and I… I simply wanted to ask how she was. I know it was improper, but I couldn’t help it. And yet, instead of reprimanding me, you took the trouble to understand my reason for it. For that, too, I must thank you.

I still do not understand why Your Highness would do such a kindness, but I am grateful nonetheless.

P.S. If your offer still stands, I should like to hear more about Feliciana—if, of course, Your Highness still wishes to share.

With utmost respect,
 Lovina Vargas”

Gilbert stared at the paper before him for a moment—perhaps a moment too long. The nervous tension he’d felt before reading the letter melted into relief, then satisfaction, then something close to joy. He raised the translated text higher, scanning the words again, before shifting his gaze to the actual letter. His eyes flicked between the two for a brief second before he tightened his grip on the paper and leaned back in his chair. A quiet laugh escaped him as he tilted his head toward the ceiling.

Lovina’s reaction had been far better than he’d expected. So much better.

A deep sense of gratification settled within him. And all he had done was exchange letters with the former Italian princess. It was a feeling he usually got from winning debates, battles, finishing his work—things that made him look impressive. And yet, he was feeling it now. It made no sense, but the human mind was a strange thing, and he wasn’t in the mood to analyze it.

His court had taken notice of his sudden shift in demeanor, the way his restless energy had been replaced with something lighter, almost cheerful. But they said nothing. It was late into the night, and whatever had put their ruler in such high spirits was a mystery they had no intention of prying into.

Gilbert kept his gaze on the ceiling, still thinking about how happy he was to have eased Lovina’s mind—truly. The exhaustion he had felt earlier vanished, replaced by a new sense of purpose. Sleep could wait. There was something far more important to tend to.

He straightened in his chair, letting his fingers run over the surface of Lovina’s letter for a fleeting moment. A small smile played on his lips. His offer to answer any questions she had about her sister still stood. In fact, it had never left the table.

Reaching for his quill, he pulled a fresh sheet of paper before him. As ink met parchment, a thought crossed his mind.

What exactly did Lovina want to know?

Whatever it was, he’d be more than happy to answer.

Chapter Text

And so, from a single letter sent to the former Italian princess, a daily exchange began. (In Italian, of course.) They had, in a way, become pen pals—despite staying in the same country and even the same castle.

At first, Lovina's letters contained only questions about her sister, which Gilbert had no problem answering. That was, after all, the reason he had written to her in the first place. He happily responded with whatever information he could provide. They didn’t speak much face-to-face, partly due to the language barrier, but Gilbert didn’t mind. He was too caught up in the fact that he was genuinely helping this girl.

But then, after a week, her letters changed. She started asking questions that had nothing to do with the Austrian Empire or Feliciana. Instead, she asked about him.

"Is your kingdom similar to the Austrian Empire?" she wrote, likely because he had told her so much about his cousin’s empire.

"You mentioned you have a younger brother—how is he?"
And later, even simpler questions, like: "Do you like tomatoes?"

At this, Gilbert found himself even more eager to respond, more excited to receive another letter, to translate it, and to write back. It was such a small thing, really, but it filled him with anticipation every day. What will she ask me now? How should I answer this one? The letters became the highlight of his days.

Before long, he started asking her questions in return. Until then, he had only known the sad details of her life, but now he wanted to know her. What did she like to do? What instruments did she play? What foods did she prefer? With each letter, his curiosity grew, and he would eagerly wait for her responses.

By the second week, the formality between them faded. Their letters became more casual, more natural—just thoughts put to paper without overly careful wording. And with all the writing and translating, Gilbert actually began picking up some Italian. He wasn’t particularly gifted with foreign languages, so he figured it would take months, maybe even a year or two, before he could hold a real conversation in it.

Lovina, on the other hand, had already begun her English lessons. Soon, she started slipping simple English words into her letters, even using them in conversation when she spoke to him. That’s right—because now, they actually talked face-to-face too. Gilbert was genuinely impressed by how quickly she was improving. She was already forming decent sentences, far better than the broken Italian he had picked up. Then again, perhaps an ear for languages was an Italian thing. Or maybe a Vargas thing. He didn’t know enough Italians to be sure.

Antonio and Emma certainly hadn’t expected the two of them to befriend each other. They were surprised the first time Lovina willingly approached Gilbert, trying to ask him something in the new English words she had learned. But they didn’t complain. If anything, they were pleased that their good friend and their quote-unquote ‘daughter’ had become friendly with one another.

Wait a minute, Gilbert thought one day, as he penned yet another response to Lovina’s latest letter. Are we not to be considered friends by now? He knew he certainly considered Lovina a friend. And, by all accounts, his friends did not address him as Your Highness or Your Majesty.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he smirked and quickly added a new line to his letter, writing in a cheerful, friendly manner:

"My friends call me by my name—you should too!"

He wouldn’t start addressing her by her first name so suddenly, of course—not unless she asked him to. But he figured letting her know that he saw her as a friend could only improve things between them. He didn’t have many friends who spoke to him without a title, but he had never cared much for formalities anyway. A friend of Antonio and Emma was a friend of his.

Satisfied, he sent the letter off.

Lovina was usually quick to reply, but Gilbert knew he wouldn’t be able to read her response right away. He had promised to go hunting with Toni as soon as the Spaniard had time, and that moment had finally come. His friend was already dragging him out in the early morning to shoot wild boars—or whatever else lurked in the Spanish countryside.

It would be fun, no doubt. Spending time with Toni always was.

But still… Gilbert couldn’t help but feel just a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be at the castle when Lovina’s response arrived.

Oh well, he mused. I’ll get to read it eventually. Not quite as good as reading it right away, but good enough.

And with that thought, he set off to join his friend on their hunt.

.
.
.

“My friends call me by my name—you should too!"

Lovina stared at the words for a long moment, surprise not even beginning to describe what she felt. Call the Germanic nation's king by his name? The thought was so absurd she almost wondered if she was dreaming. Almost.

Her eyes skimmed over the sentence again, as if trying to decide what to do with it. Slowly, she bit her lip—a habit she had been forced to unlearn, as it was deemed unladylike. She let out a small huff, then pulled a fresh sheet of paper toward her and began her response.

If she accepted his request, would that mean she had to tell him to call her by her name too? Wouldn’t that be… improper? At least, coming from her? But then again… wasn’t that what friends did?

She thought of the Emperor and Empress—how they addressed him by his first name, and how he did the same in return. By now, she and Gilbert were more than mere acquaintances, weren’t they? Even the king himself had implied as much in his letter. At the very least, he saw her as a friend…

Friends…

The thought lingered in her mind as she tried to mull it over, but really—what was there to ponder? If he had said it, then there was no reason to doubt it.

Oh, what the hell!

Enough overthinking. She let out a frustrated huff—she hated wasting time analyzing things that were clearly obvious, and this was one of them.

A decisive look crossed her face as she drew a small breath and pressed on, ink flowing until the page was no longer blank. Once finished, she set down her quill, sealed the letter with red wax, and examined it one last time.

There. Now it was ready to be delivered.

Lovina stood, letter in hand, and turned toward the large wooden door of her chambers. Her handmaid had gone to retrieve some items from the music room—it was on the far side of the castle, so she wouldn’t be back for a while…

She hesitated, glancing down at the letter again. She wanted to send it off as soon as possible so that His High—Gilbert—could read it right away. (Gilbert. It still felt strange to think of the Prussian king by name.) And yet, he expected her to say it aloud...

Well, no time like the present… she supposed.

But then, another thought crept in—if her handmaid still hadn’t returned, could she go ahead and give this to an attendant herself? Hmm… was it even proper for a young lady like her to wander the halls alone? Especially at her age?

(The answer was no. No, it wasn’t.)

Stupid propriety rules... She sighed in annoyance, thinking that if she still held her title, this wouldn’t even be an issue. She could walk the halls with confidence, and no one would bat an eye.

But whatever—no use dwelling on what could’ve been, she reminded herself, shaking off the irritating yet faintly melancholic thought. She had more pressing matters to focus on—like ensuring this letter reached His Highness (Augh—Gilbert!).

Deciding to check the hallway, hoping she could slip by unnoticed, Lovina pressed a palm against the door and eased it open just enough to peek outside. The corridor bustled with maids and butlers, all tending to their duties—polishing, dusting, straightening things in their proper place.

Well. So much for that plan.

She blinked, watching them for a moment before considering her next move. Maybe… if she simply said she was looking for—let’s say—an attendant… She furrowed her brows in concentration. To… I don’t know… deliver something? No one would question her, right?

Wait. That wasn’t even a plan. That was just the truth.

Damn, not very creative with this one. But whatever! She didn’t need to lie or come up with some elaborate excuse—this was believable enough and wouldn’t get her in trouble. Yeah, that would be fine!

(But just so you know, it wasn’t really fine—from an etiquette standpoint. Not that she had the time or patience to care.)

With that, she opened the door fully and stepped out. Almost instantly, the imperial household staff noticed her presence. Some turned in surprise, likely confused to see her outside her chambers alone, but none dared to question it. Only one maid, who had been dusting an ornament in the grand hall, stepped forward with a polite smile.

“Miss Vargas, are you headed somewhere?” she asked, not questioning why the young lady wasn’t waiting for her assigned handmaid to return.

Lovina nodded. “Ah, yes, I need to…” She lifted the letter slightly. “Find an attendant to have this delivered.”

The maid’s gaze dropped to the envelope, lingering for a moment. The other household staff in the background did the same, though they tried to be subtle about it. After a few seconds, the woman looked back at Lovina with a sympathetic expression.

“Another letter for your sister?” she asked.

Lovina blinked. As much as she would’ve liked to wonder ‘Where did she get that from?’, she could understand why the maid would make the assumption. Aside from the royal attendants, a few officials, and her handmaid, no one in the castle knew she and the Prussian king were exchanging letters. She hadn’t even told the Emperor or Empress. Up until now, she had only sent letters to her sister, so it was no surprise that everyone in the castle would think her sudden desire to deliver a letter was just another one for her sister.

Well, this one wasn’t.

But as the silence stretched on and she felt the weight of the stares on her, Lovina quickly decided it was easier to just go along with it. She didn’t want to explain or make up an excuse.

“Yes, another letter for my sister.” she replied, glancing off to the side.

The maid nodded in understanding, and the other staff gave her quiet, pitying looks.

“Oh, well then,” the woman said, gesturing toward the end of the hallway. The former princess followed her gaze. “You’ll likely find a few of Their Imperial Majesties’ attendants in the main hallway.” She offered a small smile.

The main hallway… Lovina thought as she stared ahead. It wasn’t far from this wing, and she could easily return to her room after ensuring the letter was on its way.

“Thank you.” she murmured before excusing herself and heading down the corridor toward the grander main hall.

Lovina navigated through several wider corridors before finally reaching the main hall. So far, so good. But now, a small problem arose. She had grown somewhat familiar with the Spanish castle during her time here, but remembering which room was which remained a challenge. Hallways weren’t much of an issue—the paintings, tapestries, and décor all differed—but rooms? There were too many, and the identical doors only made it harder to distinguish them.

She stumbled slightly as she entered the main hall, careful not to draw the attention of the larger swarm of household staff flitting about like diligent bees, cleaning and tending to their duties. Among them stood an older woman, likely a housekeeper—or perhaps a castle keeper, since this was a castle—overseeing the maids to ensure the work was done properly.

From her spot near the entrance, Lovina observed the scene for a moment, scanning the long corridor with focused eyes. It didn’t take her long to notice something strange. There were no royal attendants here—no courtiers, no advisors, nothing of the sort. She squinted slightly, searching again, but still, none of the court members she was looking for appeared.

Her brows knitted together. How could the main part of the castle be entirely void of attendants? Was there some important Spanish event she hadn't been told about? Maybe they were all occupied elsewhere, preparing for it? That seemed plausible, but if that were the case, she would have to start opening doors to find at least one attendant…

Ugh. She wasn’t particularly fond of exerting herself like that—especially alone, where her actions could easily be misinterpreted. But… Lovina’s gaze drifted to the letter clutched tightly in her dominant hand. She wanted Gilbert to get this. She really did…

That alone, she supposed, made the trouble somewhat worth it…

Steeling herself, she glanced back at the busy workers. The commotion in the hall was a blessing in disguise—everyone was too focused on their tasks to notice her. At least, that was what she hoped. Taking a small breath, she shook her head, pushing aside her overthinking. There was no point in agonizing over what might happen. The future was unpredictable, and hesitation wouldn’t get her anywhere.

Go, Lovina! Go!

She stepped forward slowly at first, keeping her eyes locked on the bustling staff. But when she realized their backs were turned and none had noticed her, a rush of confidence surged through her. Swiftly, she scurried past them—without so much as a single glance her way.

Perfect!

Now on the other side, she made her way toward a section of the castle where several office and working rooms were located—spaces used for important duties and storing documents belonging to the Emperor and Empress. She stopped, relieved to find no household staff cleaning here. Maybe they had already finished this area? Hard to say.

Letting her gaze sweep over the numerous doors, she frowned slightly. Alright… There had to be attendants in at least one of these rooms. She just had to find them.

With a small sigh, she pushed herself to act. There was no point standing around. She’d just pick a door at random and hope for the best. If luck was on her side, she’d find someone on the first try.

…But, knowing her rotten luck, she wasn’t about to bet on it.

Walking up to the first door in her path, Lovina swallowed her nervousness and gave a small knock. Without waiting for an answer—impatient as ever—she grasped the doorknob, twisted it, and pushed the door open, her expression expectant.

What she was met with, however, was far from what she wanted to see—well, not entirely…

The room was filled with Spanish officials and advisers, all sorting through rolled-up documents in pulled-out drawers. As the door swung open with a loud, unmistakable creak, heads turned toward her—some with furrowed brows, others with narrowed eyes, uncertain who had dared to enter so boldly. Then, just as quickly, their expressions shifted to confusion and surprise.

The former princess remained by the door, hand still on the doorknob, wide-eyed as she processed the scene before her. It took only a few seconds, but then it hit her—

Oh.

The thought surfaced quicker than one might have expected.

She had wanted to find court members, sure, but not these kinds. These were high-ranking officials—people of importance. Her gaze flickered to the letter in her hand, and she immediately tucked it behind her back. Absolutely not! There was no way she was handing them her letter! That was out of the question!

As she stood there, saying nothing to explain her rude intrusion, one of the officials eyed her with a contemplative look—one of recognition.

“Isn’t that—” he began, seeming to realize just who Lovina was.

But that was not on Lovina’s to-do list for the day. She had no interest in being swarmed by officials claiming to have her best interests at heart when, in reality, their good behavior was just a means to please the Emperor—and, by extension, the Empress. She had no desire to engage in conversation with people like that.

So, before he could finish his sentence, Lovina abruptly dipped her head in a show of respect and blurted out. “Wrong room, apologies!”

Then, just as quickly as she had entered, she took a few steps back, shut the door as much as she could, and hurried away, making a beeline for another. This time, she didn’t hesitate before pushing it open—she didn’t care if someone else was inside. She just really didn’t want those officials following after her, asking what she was doing here, why she was alone, whether the Emperor knew, and so on. The mere thought of how many questions they could throw at her made her head hurt.

She closed the door behind her and let out a quiet exhale of relief. Phew. Disaster avoided…

But her relief was short-lived.

After the brief satisfaction of escaping that horribly nerve-wracking situation, a new feeling took hold—surprise, perhaps—as she took in her surroundings. Her brows furrowed slightly. Where had she ended up?

A drawing room? A dining room? An office?

Huh?

A couch, very much in the style of a drawing room, sat against the wall. But there was also a desk, cluttered with papers and what looked like important documents—something straight out of an office. Then her gaze landed on the centerpiece of the room: a large wooden table set for tea.

Teacups, a teapot, an array of sweets, small sandwiches… and—

Wait.

Lovina blinked in surprise.

Waffles?

A lot of them.

She glanced around, frowning. Weird. Food on the table, but no one here to eat it? The setup looked quite refined, too—gold-trimmed utensils and high quality porcelain. Definitely something fit for royalty…

Pushing herself away from the door, she took a few cautious steps toward the table, inspecting it with a small furrow of her brow. Just what is this room used for…? she wondered, her gaze drifting to the steam rising from the waffles. And who had just been here… or was going to be? Or… already was?

Before she could puzzle over it any further—whether she was truly interested in the strange display or not—the creak of a door opening startled her. Not the one she had entered from, but another.

Her eyes shot up, scanning the room for the source of the noise. After a moment, she spotted it—a door she had somehow overlooked before, tucked away in the corner of the room. It was now fully open, and Lovina squinted, even though it wasn’t that far away, trying to make sense of who it was—who was about to enter…

But to her surprise, or perhaps her shock, from it emerged—

The Empress.

The regal woman stepped inside, holding a stack of papers in her hands, humming a soft tune to herself. She hadn’t noticed Lovina yet, likely too absorbed in reading whatever documents she carried. But Lovina sure as hell noticed her.

She nearly stumbled back in surprise, her body tensing up as panic surged through her.

AHHH!

The Empress?! Here?!

How had she not considered that possibility?! She had barged into this room like she owned the place! Sure, the Empress had always been warm and kind to her, but that didn’t mean Lovina could just waltz in wherever she pleased—especially not in front of her!

At the sudden noise—Lovina nearly meeting the floor with her two left feet—the Empress finally looked up from her papers. She blinked a few times, as if taking in the sight, before her expression shifted to surprise upon realizing that Lovina was standing there by the table, as stiff as a board.

That only made things worse for the brunette, turning her initial panic into something far more overwhelming—like panic multiplied by two, maybe three. She didn’t even have a name for it, but she knew it was much stronger than mere panic!

Ah! Quick! she screamed in her mind. Excuse yourself and leave before she asks too many questions!

Her frantic thoughts barely kept up with her movements as she scrambled to curtsy, trying not to trip over her own two feet in the process.

"I'm sorry," she began, her voice pitched far higher than she would have liked. "I accidentally walked in here. I'll just be—"

She meant to explain herself, to justify her impolite intrusion, but out of nowhere, a soft laugh cut through her rambling. Startled, Lovina froze, her intense gaze practically burning holes into the floor tiles.

Hesitantly, she looked up—though she certainly wasn’t ready to—but her panic quickly gave way to surprise. Emma was smiling warmly at her. Well… as she always did, if Lovina was being completely honest…

She walked up to the desk, setting down the papers she had been so immersed in just moments ago. Then, turning toward the young girl, she stepped closer, the same bright smile still on her face.

“No need to apologize, chère!” she said softly, gesturing for Lovina to straighten up from her curtsy.

Lovina hesitated for only a moment before obeying, an unexpected sense of relief washing over her. The Empress was just so… laid-back and warm.

Well, perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised. That was simply who Emma was. From the very first day Lovina had arrived, Emma had been the first to tend to her. Maybe it was because she was the only one Lovina could properly communicate with at first, given that Her Majesty spoke French as well. Or maybe it was just Emma’s nature—she wasn’t the kind of person to turn a blind eye to someone in need.

There was no real way of knowing what had gone through The Empress’s mind back then—or even now, for that matter. But after months of living here and spending time in Emma’s presence, Lovina was certain of one thing:

Emma was a good person. Too good, even.

She cared deeply, not only for her people but for all those in the kingdoms she and her husband ruled—including the newly acquired southern part of Lovina’s beloved Italy. She truly deserved the title of Empress. Such kindness deserved to be recognized.

So maybe… instead of panicking over whether Emma was upset with her for such an improper blunder (which, by now, was clear hadn’t happened and likely never would), she should have expected this easygoing response from the start.

Perhaps her panic wasn’t about Emma at all. Perhaps it was simply because it was still difficult to grow accustomed to people she hadn’t grown up with—people who weren’t her family.

Well… some would say family wasn’t always about blood. That it was about the people who truly mattered, the ones who stood by you. Maybe, someday, she’d get to that point too.

But not yet.

(Especially not after everything that had happened before she came to Spain. A handful of months was a long time—but also not nearly enough, depending on how one looked at it.)

So many thoughts in the span of a single minute…

But before they could spiral any further, Emma’s gentle voice pulled her back to the present.

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re here,” The Empress said with a light exhale, as if shaking off her weariness.

Lovina blinked, tilting her head slightly as she refocused, pushing aside the thoughts from before. She could think about them another time.

Emma pressed on, gesturing toward the desk, which was buried beneath an overwhelming stack of documents—the same ones Lovina had noticed when she first entered the room. “I needed a break from reading all those petitions,” she admitted. “Being in charge of five territories is not easy!” She let out a small huff, though it didn’t dull the softness of her expression. “Honestly, I don’t know how Antonio manages it all so well!”

She lingered on the thought for a moment before turning back to Lovina, her warm smile unwavering. Clasping her hands together, almost as if sparkles appeared around her, she asked. “Do you want some waffles? They’re freshly made by chefs from my home kingdom!”

Waffles?

Lovina’s gaze shifted to the table. Ah… So that explained the elaborate setup. This must have been the Empress’s well-earned break from her workload.

Her eyes lingered on the golden pastries, an interested look crossing her face. They did look tempting… if she were being completely honest. Plus, it’d be rude to refuse…

She glanced back at Emma, who was still watching her expectantly, happiness written all over her face. With a small, almost imperceptible smile of her own, Lovina gave a slight nod and mumbled: “Alright…”

At that, Emma beamed even brighter, if that were even possible, and immediately motioned for her to sit. Lovina didn’t hesitate, settling into a chair, and before long, Emma joined her, taking the seat beside her in a manner that was both hurried and effortlessly regal.

Emma’s eyes practically gleamed as she eyed the tray of waffles—her favorite food, if that wasn’t obvious by now. Humming happily, she used her utensils to place a few waffles on Lovina’s plate first before serving herself.

Lovina gave a small tilt of her head in thanks and reached for her utensils to start cutting into them, but Emma quickly stopped her.

“As good as plain waffles are, a topping always makes them even better!” she declared, pushing a few small jars of spreads toward the brunette.

After a brief moment of consideration, Lovina settled on apricot jam—not too sweet, which suited her just fine. She had always preferred salty foods anyway. Emma, on the other hand, had no such restraint, drowning her waffles in chocolate syrup before topping them off with a few strawberries.

Maybe that was why she was such a good person, Lovina mused, eyeing the mountain of chocolate on Emma’s plate with mild surprise. Eat enough sweets, and you become sweet… or was it something else? She had never been very good at quoting things…

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, Lovina letting her mind wander aimlessly. She wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, just letting her thoughts drift—until Emma’s cheerful voice pulled her back.

“So,” the royal woman began, cutting into her chocolate-drenched waffle with a smile. “what were you doing on this side of the castle? It’s certainly not the most exciting part. Mostly just a place for Antonio and me to deal with all our paperwork.” With that, she popped a bite of waffle into her mouth, chewing happily.

Lovina blinked down at her own plate, mulling over the question before glancing up at the Empress.

“This part of the castle?” she echoed uncertainly, setting her utensils down. She was still thinking about it when the reason finally clicked.

“Oh!” she gasped, eyes scanning the table as if she’d misplaced something important—which, in a way, she had. But as soon as she spotted the envelope beside her plate, she relaxed. If only for a second. Quickly, she reached for it, hesitating when she caught sight of the red wax seal.
Right. That was why she had been wandering around. A letter for a certain Prussian ruler.

But what was she supposed to say? It wasn’t like she could come up with a believable excuse for lingering near the Spanish royal offices. What, had she suddenly taken an interest in reviewing documents? That would be a terrible lie. And if she just told Emma she was looking for an attendant, the Empress would call one right away. Then she’d have to awkwardly hand over the letter in front of her, leaving Emma with all sorts of questions—Why are you sending a letter to Gilbert? How long has this been going on? And many more Lovina didn’t have the patience to answer… at least, not in front of an attendant…

So… would it be better to just come clean now? To tell Emma the truth? Would that even be a good idea?

Lovina stole a glance at the Empress, who was still happily munching away. Emma was kind, too kind for her own good, and she wasn’t the type to make a fuss over things like this. Right? Maybe it wouldn’t be a problem if she just… told her?

Ugh, why is this so hard? And to think she could have been Queen of Italy—imagine her advisors asking her to approve a new legislation, only for her to stare at them with wide eyes like an idiot.

Enough, Lovina! She scolded herself, steeling her resolve. Just pick a damn option and be done with it!

Still uncertain but forcing herself forward, Lovina lifted the letter slightly in a wordless gesture.

Oh. So she was going with that option. Goddammit. Emma had definitely influenced her too much…

Mid-bite, Emma paused, blinking in confusion at the sudden movement. Her brows furrowed slightly, clearly not understanding what Lovina was trying to convey.

Lovina realized a second too late that she probably should’ve used words, not just vague actions. Pointing at a letter wasn’t exactly self-explanatory.

Taking a small breath, she murmured. “It’s a letter.” She set it down on the table but kept a firm grip on it, as if she thought it might fly away if she let go.

Emma tilted her head. “A letter?” she echoed, her curiosity growing as she eyed the envelope. She had stopped eating by now and glanced back at Lovina, her brows lifting slightly. “For whom?”

The former princess’s grip on the envelope tightened. She glanced away, lips pressing into a thin line. She really didn’t want to answer that. But… she’d already put her foot in the doorway—might as well step fully inside.

After a small exhale, she forced herself to press on.

“It’s for… The King… uh, His Highness… of the German nation… or something…” The last part was barely more than a mumble, but Emma caught it anyway.

Her reaction was immediate.

“For Gilbert?!” she blurted out, dropping her utensils with a soft clink against her plate. She even half-rose from her chair, startling Lovina in the process. But just as quickly, the shock faded into something softer—surprise, then intrigue. Slowly, she sat back down, completely ignoring the food on her plate—a rare thing for someone who adored sweets as much as she did.

Lovina couldn’t place the look in Emma’s eyes, but whatever it was, it made her nervous.

“Who is it from?” Emma asked, leaning in slightly. “Or is it…” She trailed off, something shifting in her expression. As if she’d just caught onto something. As if she already knew.

Lovina hesitated. Her gaze flickered to her plate, fingers tightening around the envelope. She’d managed this much—she could go a little further.

“…It’s from me.” she muttered at last.

She immediately looked away, worried Emma might get the wrong idea. Because—why wouldn’t she? It was unheard of for a mere lady-in-waiting to exchange letters with a king. Any titled man, for that matter. The only reason a man of status would correspond with a woman of none was for… less-than-honorable intentions.

Not that all men with titles were like that. Gilbert hadn’t insinuated anything of the sort. If anything, he’d been nothing but decent, even helpful. He’d given her insight into something she never could have known on her own—her sister’s life in Austria. A good man, really.

Anyway! That was exactly why Emma couldn’t get the wrong idea. That would be horrific.

“B-but! He—His Highness knows my sister, and I just…” She scrambled for an explanation. “I—I asked him something about her. Through writing!”

Good save.

And technically, it wasn’t even a lie—that was how it started. Her letters had been about Feliciana. That was the whole reason she had written back to him in the first place.

But it was also true that, over time, their exchanges had changed…

And this letter—she glanced down at the envelope—this one had nothing to do with Feliciana.

Her fingers tensed slightly before she forced herself to meet Emma’s gaze again. The Empress was watching her carefully, that unreadable glint still in her eyes.

But… she didn’t need to know that.

After a brief silence—one that felt oddly enervating—Emma finally spoke.

“That’s true, he is acquainted with your sister,” she said warmly, though there was something else beneath her gentle smile—something knowing, if that made any sense.

Well, anyway, there was something so effortlessly calm about her tone that it almost made Lovina feel calm too. Perhaps truly good-hearted people spread goodness around them as well…

Emma’s smile softened, though there was a faint trace of remorse in it. “But unfortunately, Gilbert isn’t in the castle at the moment. He and Antonio went hunting early this morning, and they haven’t returned yet.”

Lovina blinked. “Uh… His Highness isn’t here?” she repeated, not realizing the disappointment creeping into her voice. Her gaze dropped slightly, and she frowned, frustration bubbling up inside her. All that effort wandering around the castle, all for nothing! If he wasn’t here to receive her letter, then what was the point?

Her irritation must have been obvious because Emma, noticing how disheartened she suddenly looked, quickly reassured her. “Oh, but don’t be discouraged!” She gave Lovina’s forearm a light pat, her tone as bright as ever. “They should be back very soon! It’s already been a few hours since they left.”

At that, the brunette perked up slightly, eyes widening. “Really?” she asked, gripping the letter more tightly.

Emma nodded. “Mhm!” She looked pleased that Lovina wasn’t as upset anymore. “If you’d like, I can call for an attendant to deliver your letter to Gil’s room…”

She paused, then suddenly looked as though an idea had struck her. A spark of enthusiasm—and something mischievous—flashed in her eyes. Then, clasping her hands together, she leaned in with pure excitement—almost as if she’d just had a sugar rush (which, given the amount of syrupy waffles she’d eaten, wasn’t entirely out of the question).

“Or…” she stretched the word out dramatically. “do you want to give it to him in person?” she nearly squealed. Nearly.

The Italian girl stiffened immediately, staring at Emma as if she had just said something completely absurd.

Give it to him in person? The thought drifted through her mind… and then a realization struck her.

Like a postman?

She frowned slightly.

Okay, that wasn’t even the real issue here, but still! She was of royal blood, title or not, delivering a letter by hand was so… undignified! And she did care about her image.

But the bigger problem was the implication of it. A young woman handing a letter directly to a man? That wasn’t normal! That wasn’t done! Shouldn’t The Empress be aware of that? Or… was it different for her because such norms didn’t apply to an Empress? Had she simply forgotten that they applied to everyone else?

Or maybe… she was saying that Lovina could do it because she, the Empress, was permitting it. And if the Empress allowed it, then there was nothing scandalous about it.

Honestly, Lovina had no idea.

And now her head was starting to spin from how much she was overthinking this.

Alright, final choice! Would she accept Emma’s proposal or not?

She mulled it over for a moment, then sighed. In the end, she went with the option that seemed the most obvious—at least, in Emma’s eyes.

“I… can?”

Emma let out a soft laugh and nodded. “Why, of course! Why wouldn’t you be able to?” She beamed, completely unfazed, and Lovina didn’t even bother explaining all the thoughts she’d just had. It was clear Emma saw nothing improper about her suggestion.

“Ah… well, alright.” Lovina finally said.

She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to give it to Gilbert in person. In fact… maybe it was a good way to show that she did see him as a friend now. There had to be a certain level of trust for someone to hand over a letter personally, right? Yes, she decided with newfound determination. That was a good idea.

Emma’s smile widened. “They should be here soon enough! We can wait by the entrance to greet them. What do you say?”

The former princess nodded.

“How wonderful!” The Empress chirped before turning her attention back to her half-finished waffles. “Until then… waffles!”

With that, she eagerly picked up her utensils and dug in like there was no tomorrow.

Lovina watched her for a second, then turned back to her own plate.

Emma has the right idea, she thought, feeling oddly at ease.

With that, she picked up her own utensils and followed suit.

.
.
.

The massive gates of the castle’s curtain walls swung open with urgency, a trumpet blast announcing the arrival. From behind the towering doors, two men rode in—not in regal finery, but in attire suited for movement, hunting clothes, if you will. They looked as cheerful as ever, leading a handful of riders, some guards, and a few royal attendants.

Gilbert mentally raced Antonio to the entrance, urging his horse ahead. He reached the courtyard first, pulling his white stallion to a sudden stop right before the castle doors, where his court awaited him. His abrupt arrival startled a few of them. Antonio followed close behind, reining in his own horse beside Gilbert’s. He glanced at his friend’s smug expression and let out a small exhale.

“I won!” Gilbert declared triumphantly, gesturing to himself as he shot Antonio a cocky grin.

Antonio chuckled, shaking his head. “It wasn’t a race, Gil.” His voice was light with amusement, though he rolled his eyes. He could never quite get over how Gilbert had to turn everything into a competition.

The Prussian ignored the remark entirely, too busy basking in his self-declared victory.

One of his court members stepped forward, offering a hand to help him dismount, but Gilbert didn’t even notice the man. Instead, he leaped down on his own, landing with a heavy thud against the stone floor. The courtier flinched.

“My liege!” he exclaimed, inhaling sharply before composing himself. “Please, be more careful.”

Gilbert laughed and waved him off lazily. “Will do!”—an obvious lie, as everyone knew, including Gilbert himself. He stretched his limbs, unconcerned.

The courtier, however, pressed on. “Did you and His Imperial Majesty manage to catch anything?”

Gilbert halted his stretching and turned to Antonio, who had also dismounted. His gaze then flicked toward the attendants who had accompanied them on the hunt. Some carried their rifles and ammunition, while others bore the spoils of their outing: a wild boar, a few deer, and two rather large birds.

With a proud smirk, the king turned back to his attendant. “Of course we did! I shot the big one over there!” He jabbed a finger in the boar’s direction, his expression practically glowing with self-satisfaction. Then, shaking his head in mock disappointment, he turned to Antonio. “But His Imperial Majesty here”—he exaggerated the title with a playful drawl—“couldn’t keep up with my skill. His biggest catch was just a deer!”

The court member stiffened, his face paling at the blatant teasing of the Spanish Emperor. “Y-Your Majesty!” he stammered, his eyes darting between Antonio and his own king. “Please, don’t say such things so… boldly!” He bowed slightly, his voice laced with nervousness. Mocking an emperor, especially his hunting skills, was hardly proper for a king.

Gilbert snorted, rolling his eyes. “Relax,” he said breezily, clapping the poor courtier on the forearm. “Toni knows he can’t compete with my awesomeness.”

Antonio stepped closer and gave Gilbert a light shove. “Hey! I may not understand your German, but I can definitely tell when you’re making fun of me!” He laughed, and Gilbert nudged him right back.

The German court member looked like he was about to faint. “Y-Your Imperial Majesty…!” he stuttered in English, growing more anxious by the second. “Please excuse my king, he meant no disrespect—”

“I absolutely did.” Gilbert cut in with a cheeky grin.

The courtier turned as pale as a ghost, as if all the blood had drained from his face. Poor man. Someone should really tell him that the Spanish Emperor isn’t about to bite his head off just because of how his king behaves. But of course, court members do care about tradition. And by that, I mean not disrespecting another monarch to his face.

The courtier swallowed hard, debating whether to clear his throat and attempt, one last time, to steer his king toward a more diplomatic approach. But before he could get a word in, Gilbert casually turned to his horse, ran a proud hand along its neck, and declared: “Our horses are better and much faster than yours, too.”

His red eyes narrowed slightly as he shot Antonio a smug look.

At that, the courtier felt his soul leave his body. There was no saving this. His ruler had literally just called Spanish horses inferior. And sure, maybe it was true, but you don’t say that to an emperor’s face! An emperor, of all people! Antonio ruled over five kingdoms, while Gilbert had only one. What if he suddenly got sick of being mocked and decided he had developed a taste for a sixth kingdom… a German one at that?!

(That was certainly never going to happen—but attendants panic over every little thing their ruler does.)

Gilbert, completely unaware of the courtier’s spiraling anxiety, continued. “Just look at this big fella!” His tone shifted from purely boastful to a touch more affectionate as he patted his horse. “A Trakehner like this—built to take down a bull! You won’t find one of these in your Spanish lands.”

The courtier let out a strangled noise. “Your Majesty—!”

But Antonio, entirely unfazed, walked up to the horse and studied it with intrigue. “That’s because we don’t have Trakehner horses in Spain, Gil,” he said lightly, running a hand along the animal’s nose. His expression was thoughtful, but he smiled nonetheless. “But you’re right—yours are much bigger and sturdier than ours.”

Gilbert let out a loud, satisfied laugh. “Glad you can admit it.” With a tug on the reins, he led his horse toward the still-flustered attendant, practically shoving them into his hands.

“Take Ritter here to get some food and water, then bring him to the stables for a well-earned rest.” the white-haired man ordered, giving the horse a final pat.

The court member, though still flustered, nodded hastily and hurried to find a Spanish groomer, who quickly took the reins and led Ritter away, following the other attendants tending to Antonio’s horse and the rest of the hunting party’s mounts.

Having finished that, Gilbert ran a hand across his forehead, wiping away the slickness from riding through the forest all morning. He let his arm drop back to his side before glancing over at Antonio, who was just finishing up instructing his own court members—telling them to take their catches to the royal chefs, return the guns to their proper place, and so on.

Gilbert’s thoughts drifted to the letter he was supposed to receive, or had already received, from Lovina. He wondered how she would respond to his clear attempts at befriending her.

Speaking of friends… did Lovina even have any here?

He’d pondered this before. He had yet to see any noble ladies visiting her at the castle. In fact, she didn’t seem to go out much at all… huh.

“Hey, Toni,” he asked suddenly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Antonio, just wrapping up his instructions, turned toward him with a puzzled look. “Hm?”

Gilbert hesitated for a second, then pressed on. “This is kinda random… but does the former princess have any friends? Besides, obviously, you and Em.”

Antonio furrowed his brows, thinking on it for a moment before letting out an awkward laugh. “She had a few back in Italy’s capital…”

Gilbert’s brow creased slightly. Back in Italy? He hadn’t asked about her past—he’d asked if she had any friends here. But that answer told him everything he needed to know. Antonio’s hesitation, his roundabout response… it only confirmed what Gilbert suspected.

Still, he wasn’t about to push the matter further. The guy was clearly already stressed about the whole situation. So instead, Gilbert just nodded. “Ah, alright.” That was all he could really say.

To ease the tension from his earlier question, he added. “Are we heading inside now?”

Antonio blinked, then nodded. “Ah, yeah—of course!” His usual cheer returned. “Let’s go inside.”

With that, he signaled to the guards at the doors. They obeyed immediately, and soon enough, both Antonio and Gilbert stepped into the castle.

Gilbert’s mind was still lingering on earlier thoughts of a certain Italian girl as Antonio’s court members led them further down the entrance corridor. And it was rather ironic, really—as the saying goes, speak of the “devil” (though devil hardly suited the person in question).

At the far end of the hallway, among the Spanish attendants and his own, stood Emma, happily waving their way, welcoming them back from their outing. But that wasn’t what caught Gilbert’s attention.

No, what truly did was the figure just behind her.

Lovina.

The Prussian nearly halted in his tracks upon spotting the young girl. He hadn’t expected to see her today, aside from at meals. As far as he knew, she had a busy schedule—so what was she doing all the way on this side of the castle?

He barely had time to ponder before she noticed their arrival. Peeking out from behind Emma, her gaze landed on him almost instantly.

And their eyes met.

She stared at him with such intensity that for a second, he wondered if she even recognized him in his hunting attire. But no, that wasn’t it. After a brief pause, she murmured something to the Empress and her handmaid—too low for Gilbert to catch—before suddenly turning back to him and… walking his way?

Gilbert blinked and instinctively glanced around. Surely, she wasn’t approaching him of all people. His eyes landed on Antonio beside him, and he settled on the assumption that she was simply coming to greet the Spaniard.

Antonio seemed to think the same, as his face lit up. “Aww, Lovina, did you come to greet me?” he asked cheerily when she stopped in front of him.

Lovina hesitated, regarding him with an almost awkward expression before dipping her head in polite acknowledgment. Then, to both Antonio’s and Gilbert’s shock, she simply stepped past him.

Antonio blinked, utterly thrown. “Well, that’s one way to give a cold shoulder…” he muttered in defeat.

Emma, who had now approached him and had actually come to greet him, leaned in close, her face near his, and placed a small, soft peck on his cheek before saying, “You’ll live.” and letting out a soft laugh.

Meanwhile, Gilbert was utterly baffled. He had assumed Lovina would naturally gravitate toward the person she knew best, the one she actually spoke to outside of letters. Their conversations in English were limited, often awkward, consisting of only a few words at a time. She was still grasping the language, after all. They could manage simple topics—likes, dislikes, food—but nothing deeper.

Yet here she was—standing directly in front of him.

Why? The thought was plain in his mind as he took in her expression. Her lips were pressed together, her gaze uncertain, as if she wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing either.

Then, perhaps a moment too late, it hit him.

The letter.

The one he’d sent her that morning. Of course.

He would have lingered on that realization if not for what Lovina did next.

She lifted her gaze, her large hazel eyes locking onto his. Her stare was unwavering, sharp—not just looking at him, but studying him. For a brief pause, time seemed to slow. Then, as if steeling herself, she lowered her head slightly and raised a hand between them.

In it was a piece of parchment. Or was it an envelope?

Before Gilbert could get a better look, Lovina suddenly spoke, startling him slightly.

“I have a paper…” she said slowly, her voice hesitant, her brow knitting together as if the words weren’t quite right. And they probably weren’t because… paper? What did that have to do with anything? A pause stretched between them as she searched for something, probably the proper English word, but whatever it was, it didn’t come to her. Huffing quietly, she settled on her best approximation.

“…paper.” she repeated, more firmly this time.

Gilbert shook off his earlier surprise, squinting at her in confusion before his gaze dropped to the item in her hand. His lips quirked into a small, lopsided smirk. “A piece of paper?” He didn’t quite understand what she was getting at, but he figured playing along was the safest bet.

Lovina, however, furrowed her brows and adjusted her grip, turning the parchment so the red wax seal was visible. Then, as if determined to rid him of any further confusion, she shoved it a little closer to his face and blurted out: “This!”

Oh. Only then did he realize what he was looking at—a letter.

“A letter?” he asked, blinking.

At that, Lovina nodded vigorously, her face still unreadable. “Yes!” she confirmed, then hesitated for a brief second before extending it even further toward him.

“For you…”

Her voice had softened, quieter than before, and then, just barely above a murmur, she added:

“…Gilbert.”

It was the first time she had ever addressed him by name.

Something shifted in his chest. It could’ve been exhaustion from the hunt, or hunger gnawing at him more than he realized. But when he heard his name pass her lips, that restless feeling he’d felt before deepened inside him—something that wasn’t quite excitement, wasn’t quite nervousness, but something else entirely…

His heart beat strangely in his chest. His red eyes remained fixed on the girl before him, and for a moment, he found himself wondering what that feeling was…

From the sidelines, Antonio was still trying to make sense of what he had just seen. His gaze shifted between Gilbert and Lovina, his confusion deepening by the second. Leaning toward Emma, he lowered his voice as if wary of being overheard.

“Uh… what is that?” He squinted at the letter Lovina had handed Gilbert. “Why is she giving him a letter? And—wait.” He paused, his mind catching up to something else that felt off. “Did she just call Gilbert… Gilbert?”

Emma chuckled, amused by her husband’s confusion. “That is his name, isn’t it?”

Antonio turned to her, still thrown off. “Well… yeah, but—” He shot another glance at the pair, suspicion creeping in. “She’s always addressed him by his title. I knew she was warming up to him, and I’m not saying I’m not happy about it, but…”

Before he could finish, Emma gently took his hand, her voice soft but steady. “I think it’s good that she’s opening up. Especially to Gilbert.” She gave him a knowing smile. “Don’t you?”

Antonio hesitated, his brow furrowing as his eyes lingered on the unopened letter. “Yeah, of course…” he admitted, though the unease in his voice betrayed his true thoughts.

Emma caught on immediately. She squeezed his hand, tilting her head slightly. “You just want to know what’s in that letter.”

Antonio exhaled. “I just…” He pressed his lips together, unable to shake his curiosity. “Did Lovina write it?”

Emma’s expression turned pointed, already predicting where this was going. “Cher,” she said firmly. “you’re not reading that letter. It’s not for you.”

Antonio opened his mouth as if to argue, but Emma was quicker. She lifted her hands and gently cupped his face, tilting his head away from Gilbert and Lovina so he could only look at her.

“Je ne veux pas l'entendre,” she murmured, her voice firm but affectionate. “I don’t want to hear it.” she repeated in Spanish, her gaze unwavering.

Antonio let out a sigh, but the tension in his shoulders eased. He gave her a reluctant yet fond smile. “You’re right…” His voice softened as he let himself relax under her touch.

Emma’s lips curled into a triumphant smile. “I always am.” With that, she leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his lips. Antonio, with no hesitation, kissed her back.

Back with Gilbert and Lovina…

Gilbert, still sorting through the unfamiliar feeling settling in his chest, accepted the letter she handed him. He had a pretty good idea of what it might say, though in truth, he already knew her answer to his proposal. After all, she had called him by his name.

“I will read it immedi—” He stopped mid-word, catching himself. Lovina’s grasp of English was improving, but he should be mindful of his words. “Soon,” he corrected, offering a small, reassuring smile. “I will read it soon.”

It took Lovina a moment to process his response, but once she did, a faint flustered expression crossed her face. She nodded in understanding, eyes dropping to the ground as she clutched at the fabric of her dress.

“I have…” she began again, hesitating before raising her gaze just enough to give him a fleeting glance. “…piano… lezioni.” (lessons.)

She had switched to Italian for the last word, but thanks to the many letters Gilbert had translated and written up until now, he recognized it immediately.

“Piano lessons?” he echoed.

Lovina nodded again, and he let out a small chuckle, light and friendly. Holding up the letter slightly, he added. “Then… I’ll write to you, okay?”

Her hazel eyes lingered on his for a long moment before she exhaled softly. “Okay…”

With that, she gave a small, polite tilt of her head before turning to leave, making her way back to her handmaid and the imperial couple. As she approached, Antonio’s attention immediately shifted to her, though he cast a subtle side-eye in Gilbert’s direction. The Prussian, however, didn’t notice—his focus remained on the letter in his hands.

A quiet, content feeling settled in his gut as he studied the envelope, his fingers running absently over the seal. He thought back to what he had asked Antonio after they had returned from the hunt, right outside the castle’s entrance. Did the former princess have any friends here?

Looking at the letter once more, Gilbert allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. I’ll be her friend.

Chapter Text

After that moment, it was no surprise that Gilbert and Lovina grew even closer during his stay in Spain. Formalities faded sooner rather than later, and she began addressing him by name in letters and in person, something that delighted him more than he cared to admit. When he asked if he could do the same, not wanting to overstep, she granted him permission.

Lovina. She had a pretty name. And, thankfully, an easy one to pronounce, unlike some Italian words he could barely get through without butchering. One day, Emma mentioned its meaning, having learned it from Lovina herself in those first few weeks after the young girl had arrived at the Spanish court: "One that is adored."

From then on, Gilbert couldn’t help but agree. The name suited her perfectly. There was always something to admire about her: her talent for music, her knack for languages, or even the way she bit her lower lip in frustration when things didn’t go her way… He laughed at that last thought. Most wouldn’t find such a habit appealing, but he supposed he was the odd one out. Because to him, even that was… admirable.

So, they became friends. Over the following weeks, they got to know each other well. When Gilbert first met Lovina, she struck him as shy and reserved—but that was likely just how she acted around people she didn’t know or consider friends. Antonio might have mentioned that once, though Gilbert had figured it out on his own, given how she behaved around him now.

She was much louder, if that was the right word. Definitely not reserved. Quite the opposite, really. She said whatever was on her mind, complained when things didn’t go her way, and had no problem glaring at others if they didn’t do their job properly. He still remembered the sharp look she gave him that day they’d waited for Emma and Antonio outside the cathedral, when an attendant, twisting his words in translation, made her believe he was barking orders at her. (Not something he would do to someone who used to be a royal, but still had royal blood, by the way!)

But the funny thing was, none of this seemed bad to Gilbert. If anything, it only added to her charm. She was entertaining to be around. He hadn’t met many ladies bold enough to… how should he put it? Challenge the word of a man. And that was a shame, really, because he liked that in a person. A fiery personality, petty little arguments that were more amusing than serious, things that made conversations fun rather than predictable. That was Lovina, through and through. And honestly, he liked that about her…

Anyway, they still exchanged letters (habits were hard to break, after all) but naturally, they spent more time talking face-to-face now. Gilbert had already noted that Lovina’s English had improved thanks to her lessons, but now her progress was even more remarkable. In just a few more weeks, she had picked up an impressive number of new words and, even more impressively, had learned to string them together with prepositions. Meanwhile, he was still struggling with the broken Italian he’d picked up from translating letters…

Truly impressive. And admirable. Yet another thing he liked about her.

One day, when Antonio and Emma were too busy to keep Gilbert company, he found himself alone with Lovina, or as alone as propriety allowed. Her handmaid was present, of course, along with a few of his attendants and some Spanish ones.

They crossed paths in the castle’s vast gardens, both having stepped outside for fresh air for their own reasons. Gilbert was surprised to see her, assuming she’d be occupied with her many lessons. But apparently, she had managed to slip away from one, which made him smile. It reminded him of when he was younger—her age, which wasn’t that long ago, given that he was just twenty-two now. He used to skip lessons all the time! Except for sword training and riding, since those were actually enjoyable. But the theoretical ones? Boring. He had always tried to get out of them (not that it worked often, since his father made sure officials were watching him like a hawk).

If he hadn’t become king so early, he probably would have still been stuck attending those tedious lectures. Well, at least that was his younger brother’s problem now. Then again, that kid was far too responsible… he’d never skipped a lesson in his life.

Anyway, we've strayed too far—let's return to them strolling in the gardens.

Since they were already there, Gilbert figured a walk would be far more enjoyable with company than alone, as he'd originally intended, before unexpectedly crossing paths with the girl. Lovina agreed.

And so, they walked together, choosing the sunnier paths as November waned and winter crept in. The shaded areas were far too cold, and Gilbert’s cloak did little against the chill. He could only hope Lovina’s was thicker, enough to keep her from freezing.

They walked in silence for a little while, watching the orange, red, and yellow leaves scattered across the once-clear pathways. Royal gardeners worked to tidy them up, though it seemed like a losing battle. The trees stood bare now, and the grass had begun to wilt, all preparing for the coming winter.

But Gilbert wasn’t one for silence. He broke it soon enough with a random topic, anything to lighten the mood. From there, their conversation flowed easily.

They started with lighthearted subjects, and Lovina complained about how difficult English pronunciation was. She admitted she found the grammar simple enough, at least it didn’t have all the verb conjugations and articles that Latin languages did, but the pronunciation was another story entirely. That th sound? Impossible! The way English speakers pronounced their r’s? Completely foreign to her! And whenever she tried to say words with those sounds, she felt, in her own words, stupid.

Gilbert found it amusing that she even cared. Sure, her accent was noticeable, but what did she expect? She had only been learning English for a month—it wasn’t bad at all. Besides, his English was heavily accented too, his r’s especially, and he didn’t think twice about it. He pointed this out to her, joking that his pronunciation was probably worse than hers.

She snorted and rolled her eyes, which made him grin—and, strangely enough, warm up inside. As if the November chill didn’t even exist anymore…

Their conversation drifted to other topics: the approaching winter, the differences between Spain and his homeland. Lovina asked if it was colder there, given that Germany was farther north. Gilbert confirmed that yes, winters back home were much colder. Snow could pile up to twenty centimeters—more if there was a snowstorm.

As he spoke more about his kingdom, the conversation naturally led to his younger brother. Gilbert explained that while he was in Spain, Ludwig was handling things back home, giving him a much-needed break from all the politics and responsibilities he usually had to deal with. And, like any proud older brother, once he got started talking about Ludwig, he didn’t stop. He went on about his strengths, his quirks, all the things an older sibling boasts about.

And that was when he noticed it.

Lovina had gone quiet.

Her expression had shifted, tinged with something distant, something sad.

Gilbert immediately regretted bringing up the subject. Damn it, Gilbert. He wanted to punch himself for not realizing sooner…

Lovina, still caught in that quiet melancholy, suddenly admitted, so softly it stopped his thoughts in their tracks:

"I want to… be able to speak of my sister as you do about your brother."

She pulled her cloak tighter around herself, as if shielding herself from more than just the cold. Her gaze dropped to the ground before she continued, her voice even softer than before:

"But I have not… seen her in so long. I do not really know how she acts now… or if she is the same as I remember her."

(The actual conversation had more pauses, and she occasionally slipped into Italian when unsure of an English word, but for clarity, it’s retold more smoothly.)

The way she spoke, so full of quiet longing, struck something in Gilbert. And in that moment, he realized something… something he should have understood before.

Knowing her sister was well was one thing, but seeing her was another.

No matter how many letters he wrote to reassure her, no matter how much he told her about Feliciana, it would never be enough. What Lovina truly wanted was to see Feliciana, to be with her again…

And that realization settled perhaps too heavily in Gilbert’s chest.

Lovina, as if sensing that she had dwelled too long on the subject, soon changed the conversation. She seemed to throw herself into whatever she was telling him next, and bit by bit, the sadness that had briefly overtaken her faded.

But Gilbert couldn’t shake it off.

"I do not really know how she acts now… or if she is the same as I remember her."

Her words echoed in his mind, lingering long after their walk ended. That uncertainty, the painful admission that she no longer knew if her sister was the same, that time and separation had built an unfamiliar distance between them, stuck with him more than he cared to admit.

And for days afterward, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About her.

He had believed his letters would be enough to ease her worries, but longing wasn’t so easily soothed. He, of all people, should have understood that…

No matter how much he turned it over in his mind, he couldn’t find the right thing to say. (Perhaps there was no right thing to say…)

And then, just as his time in Spain was nearing its end, a thought struck him—not about what to say, but about what to do. That’s right. Words, whether spoken or written, would never be enough. They were just that—words. But actions… actions could change everything!

He thought of something he could definitely do—it was something bold, maybe even reckless. But even so, he was certain it was the one thing, perhaps the only thing, that would truly make Lovina happy.

Though… he couldn’t act on it just yet. There were people whose permission he needed first (besides Lovina herself, of course,)—Antonio and Emma. As Lovina’s guardians, their approval mattered, and at first, he hesitated. He wasn’t sure how they would react. His plan required more than they might be able, or willing, to give.

But in the end, he couldn’t keep it to himself. The chance to make Lovina truly happy outweighed his doubts. And who knew? Maybe they’d agree. He wouldn’t find out unless he tried…

So, when Lovina was occupied with her piano lessons and Antonio and Emma were free from their daily responsibilities, he asked if they could share a meal, or at the very least, a snack, together.

They, not so surprisingly, agreed without hesitation.

And with that, Gilbert had his chance.

In the salon, with a spread of sweet and sour treats laid before them, Gilbert tried to find the right words.

Well… easier said than done.

The approval of those before him actually mattered, which meant he couldn’t just blurt it out. He had to put it in such a way that they wouldn’t outright refuse him, had to make it sound like a grand idea. And normally, that wouldn’t be so difficult for him…

If only he wasn’t so damn nervous… (It was unlike him, sure, but who could blame him? No one liked the feeling of rejection, whether it was from a person or, in this case, an idea.)

So caught up in his thoughts, he barely acknowledged the food and drinks before him. And that was saying something. Usually, he welcomed a drink—hell, he loved a drink—but now, he simply stared at his glass, fidgeting instead of indulging in it.

And because it was so unlike him, his odd behavior didn’t go unnoticed.

Not that he noticed that either.

He was too focused on getting his words just right—neat, convincing—so that when he finally spoke, Antonio and Emma would have no choice but to see reason.

And just as he was about to open his mouth…!

Antonio beat him to it.

The unexpected interruption jolted him from his thoughts.

And just like that, the perfect phrasing he’d carefully put together unraveled before he could say a word…

"Mios Dios, what’s wrong with you, Gil?" Antonio asked, setting down his glass of wine with a quiet clink, his brow arched in confusion. “You haven’t even touched your wine!” he added, casting a small disappointed glance at the untouched glass before him, filled with this autumn's finest Spanish harvest.

Gilbert, his mind still clouded, slowly lifted his head to meet the Spaniard’s gaze, blinking a few times, unsure of how to respond.

Seeing the hesitation, Antonio quickly let go of the wine comment and pressed on. "You’re deep in thought, mi amigo. Is something bothering you?"

His eyes remained locked on Gilbert, and soon enough, Emma joined him, her gaze shifting from her plate to him with a mixture of confusion and concern, clearly noticing something was off.

Truth be told, something was bothering Gilbert—specifically, the thought of sharing his idea with Antonio and Emma (not that it wasn’t obvious already). He’d been ready to do it, and it wasn’t that he’d suddenly changed his mind. But Antonio’s direct question, the way he so easily noticed something was off, made Gilbert hesitate.

Still, he needed to tell them. He only had a few days left in Spain, and if he didn’t do it now, he wouldn’t have the chance later. He wouldn’t be here.

Get over yourself, Gilbert, he silently chided, mentally slapping himself into action, like a general pushing his soldiers through the chaos of a battlefield, where the only thing that mattered was moving forward, deafened by the sounds of gunfire and clashing swords.

With that, he pushed past his reluctance and opened his mouth.

"Antonio, Emma," he began, using their full names instead of their usual nicknames to underscore the seriousness of what he was about to say. That alone made the couple sit up straighter, their attention sharpening as their eyes widened just slightly.

"I have a very, very—" he repeated the word for emphasis, "great favor to ask of you two."

Emma and Antonio exchanged a brief glance before turning back to him, their confusion plain. Emma furrowed her brows, while Antonio gave a small nod, guessing that whatever Gilbert was about to ask had to do with his last days in Spain. (Which wasn’t far from the truth.)

Perhaps a political request? Maybe a letter from home had arrived, urging him to secure resources from their territories?

Whatever the case, Antonio had already made up his mind—whatever Gilbert needed, he would help. He was one of his closest friends, after all.

"Of course, Gil. Anything." The Spaniard said with a warm smile, hoping to ease any lingering concern if something serious were happening in Gilbert’s kingdom.

The Prussian glanced at him, nodding slowly as he took in his words. “Anything” was a nice sentiment, and he knew Antonio meant it sincerely. But in this specific case, one involving a certain Italian former princess, he wasn’t so sure it applied…

"I’m glad you’re so willing…" he murmured, lowering his gaze to his hands, only now noticing how tightly he’d interlocked his fingers. He hesitated for a moment, his grip tightening before he let out a small breath.

"I want to do something…" he admitted abruptly.

A beat of silence followed. Then, in perfect unison, the two across from him echoed: "Huh?"

Gilbert fought to keep his composure, determined not to let their confusion throw him off. If he lost focus now, his thoughts would scatter again, and that was the last thing he needed. No, he had to see this through.

He took a steadying breath. "Something for someone who… I’m not saying they’re in an unfavorable position, but…" He exhaled sharply. "They’d definitely be happier if I were to—"

He trailed off, finally glancing up to find the royal couple looking even more puzzled. Right. Not surprising, considering how vague he was being. "Something" and "someone" didn’t exactly paint a clear picture…

Okay, enough dancing around it. Just say it already!

"Alright," he pressed on, this time more determined. "I’ll be very transparent with you two. As you most likely know, I’ve befriended the former eldest Italian princess…"

That alone probably gave them an idea. Just mentioning Lovina hinted at where this was going. Antonio and Emma exchanged a glance, nodding slowly, though their uncertainty remained—they were still searching for the connection.

Good. Keep going, Gilbert.

"I’ve come to see what an entertaining person she is," he said. "But I’ve also noticed that no matter how happy she seems in the moment, the next, it’s as if she loses her spark."

His mind flashed back to their walk in the gardens, to the way her eyes dimmed—far more than a girl like her should ever have to experience...

"It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why," he added, confidence growing. Now that he was thinking of ridding Lovina of that sadness, all his earlier reluctance faded. He met his friends’ eyes, ready to drive the point home.

"She misses her family. Her only family left—her sister."

At that, The Emperor and Empress’s expressions shifted. Confusion melted into remorse, then into empathy. Emma nodded solemnly, while Antonio remained lost in thought.

Seeing neither of them interrupt, Gilbert pressed on.

"You confirmed it for me a few weeks ago, Toni. And she admitted it herself…"

He let out a small sigh, recalling the weariness in Lovina’s voice. But rather than discouraging him, the memory only strengthened his resolve. He had an idea,one that could actually ease that pain.

"So, naturally, that got me thinking. And now that I’m leaving for home in a few days…" He leaned forward slightly. "I’ve come up with a, well… you might call it a crazy idea."

Antonio raised his brows, intrigued. Emma, however, seemed to be piecing it together already. Her eyes widened slightly, hands coming to her mouth as if resisting the urge to speak before he confirmed her suspicions.

And so, he did.

"My request is this: since I’ll be stopping by my cousin’s place before heading home… do you think I could take Lovina with me to see her sister?"

There. He had said it.

Barely, he resisted the urge to look away, keeping his gaze steady even as uncertainty gnawed at him. His request was undeniably bold—absurd, even, from their perspective. He had no idea how they would react…

But this was the only way to bring Lovina real happiness. How else could longing be soothed if not by reuniting the person with the one they longed for? And if he could do that for her, why wouldn’t he?

Yes, it was the right thing to do. But more than that—Lovina was his friend, and he couldn’t stand to see her trapped in frustration and yearning. If she couldn’t go to her sister on her own… then he would take her himself!

But… hold your horses, Gilbert.

Before any of that, he needed permission from two very specific individuals…

Gilbert blinked, meeting the wide-eyed stares of Antonio and Emma. The couple stood frozen, as if he had just spoken complete nonsense.

(It wasn’t nonsense! Well, at least not to him… He just had to hope they didn’t see it that way.)

Nobody spoke.

The silence stretched long enough that Gilbert felt an urge to defend himself before they outright refused. Because that’s where this was heading, wasn’t it? Why else would they be so quiet, if not to figure out a way to let him down gently?

"It’ll only be for two months or so!" he blurted, shifting on the couch. His hands shot up in a frantic wave, as if to sweep away any concerns. "I need to return to Spain in February for the renewal of the annual trade agreement anyway, so I’ll bring her back—"

He tacked on another reassurance, forcing the most awkward smile he could muster. "All safe and sound!"

His smile faltered, turning into something worse than mere awkwardness as he glanced between the two royals, who still sat in silence.

Agh! C’mon, say something! He thought to himself. One of you, at least!

After another silent moment—one in which Gilbert fully expected the inevitable (a big, resounding NO!)—his friends’ expressions finally shifted. Well, more precisely, it was Emma’s expression that changed first, and that’s where Gilbert’s attention snapped to.

She lowered her hands from her mouth, and almost instantly, the shock on her face faded, replaced by… uh… was that excitement?

For a brief moment, the albino was thrown off guard.

Her eyes lit up, and she clasped her hands together in front of her chest, looking as if she were barely holding herself back from jumping up and down in excitement. She even let out a small squeal, the kind one might expect from a child receiving a long-awaited gift.

Gilbert might’ve asked what that reaction meant—though it was pretty clear she was thrilled—but before he could even open his mouth, Emma beat him to it.

"Oh, mon Dieu!" she exclaimed in French, her tone brimming with joy. "Gilbert, that is an amazing idea!"

Well, that confirmed it. Emma was more than on board.

The Prussian exhaled a relieved sigh, the tension slipping off his shoulders. He managed a grin her way and leaned back into the couch, feeling far more at ease than he had just moments ago. All that nervousness had been for nothing—he should’ve known better!

"We’ve been trying to find a way to reunite her with her sister," Emma continued, her voice still full of excitement, "but with our duties, we couldn’t come up with a proper solution! And sending her off alone with just a few attendants?" She shook her head. "That would worry us sick!"

Then, suddenly, she beamed at him.

"But you—" she gestured toward him, making Gilbert blink in surprise, "you just handed us the perfect solution on a silver platter!"

With that, she nodded firmly. "You have such a good heart, Gilbert, always stepping in when you see someone in need. Yes! My answer to your request is an absolute yes!"

Gilbert blinked at her again—more specifically, at her enthusiasm—before breaking into another smile. She had taken his request far better than expected.

"Haha… well, you know me…” he said, still mulling over the Empress’s words.

"You have such a good heart."

His smile lingered, but something about that phrase gave him pause. He hesitated, then muttered, “I’m not sure ‘good heart’ is the right way to describe me…” He scratched the side of his neck, uncertain.

A good heart, huh?

That had never been how he saw himself. Yet Emma and Antonio always seemed to insist on it. Maybe they noticed something he didn’t.

Before his thoughts could spiral, he shook his head, pushing the idea aside. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on things that didn’t matter.
He turned back to the Empress, his smile more at ease.

"I’m glad you think my idea’s good," he admitted. "It took me a while to ask. I wasn’t sure if I was overstepping by making a request like this…”

He glanced away briefly before shifting his focus back to his friends, more specifically, to Antonio. Emma’s approval was one thing, but he still needed to hear from him too.

But Antonio was probably on board as well, right?

The thought barely had time to settle before Gilbert caught sight of the Spaniard’s face—and just like that, the relief he'd let himself enjoy vanished. A cold weight crept down his spine.

Antonio wasn’t smiling. His brows were drawn together, lips pressed into a small frown. He looked thoughtful, but not in the way Gilbert had hoped. No, this was the kind of thoughtful that meant: Oh, uh…

Well. Damn.

So much for his awesome plan…

Emma noticed her husband’s hesitation too—not that it was hard to miss.

But while Gilbert held back, waiting to hear what Antonio actually had to say instead of jumping to conclusions, Emma had no such patience.

And unlike him, she had no intention of letting the matter rest.

She scooted closer, giving Antonio’s robe a small tug where it draped over his forearm.

“Cher,” she began softly, “I believe Gil’s idea is wonderful and would make Lovina incredibly happy.” Her tone was light, almost too casual, almost as if Antonio didn’t look weighed down by doubt. “Don’t you?”

She paused, letting him process her words.

When he did, he turned to her with the same hesitation.

Gilbert nearly reacted, nearly let something slip across his face, because seriously? Was Emma just going to cut through Antonio’s reluctance like it wasn’t staring her right in the face?

Caught off guard, The Spaniard gaped at her, then at Gilbert—who only shrugged, as if to say, ‘Don’t look at me. I’ve got no clue either’.

His gaze returned to Emma. Seeing the warmth in her eyes, the way she silently urged him to go along with her, he exhaled—not the sigh of someone convinced, but the sigh of someone reluctant to say what needed to be said.

Still, he said it.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his tone serious.

Turning to Gilbert, he added, “This is very last-minute, Gil.”

Oh.

That was all that ran through the albino’s mind at first. But… well, Antonio was right. There was no arguing that. Gilbert was leaving in just a few days—of course, this was last-minute.

So instead of contesting it, he simply nodded, unsure of what else to do.

Antonio’s voice remained even, but there was a firmness behind it now. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do…” He even offered Gilbert a small smile before his expression darkened again. “But I don’t think this journey—especially without either Emma or me accompanying her—is a good idea. Not just for her safety, but for the political balance of my empire. And your cousin’s.”

Gilbert blinked. Political balance? What did Lovina traveling to Austria have to do with that?

And maybe, deep down, he already knew the answer. Maybe it was obvious. But he had been so focused on the idea itself, so sure that it would make Lovina happy, that he hadn’t truly thought about the broader implications…

Antonio, unaware of Gilbert’s internal musings, pressed on.

“Think about it,” he said. “What would people say if the King of Prussia personally escorted the former princess of Italy from my court to the Austro-Hungarian Empire?”

He gave Gilbert a pointed look and explained, “Roderich and I made a sovereignty agreement over Italy’s land—he took the north, and I took the south. We also each took one of the princesses into our courts as a statement, a reassurance that Italy’s royalty had not been forsaken. But it served another purpose as well: it cemented our claims. Lovina and Feliciana are not just noble wards. They represent—not literally, of course, but politically—the territories we have each absorbed into our empires… if you understand my meaning."

He paused, giving his words time to sink in before continuing, “Everyone knows this. Which is why you taking Lovina to Austria wouldn’t be seen in the same light as if Emma or I did.”

Gilbert frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. If he weren’t familiar with politics, he might’ve asked Why not?—and maybe that would’ve been the simpler option. But he knew exactly what Antonio was implying, and it didn’t sit well with him…

“Because you’re Roderich’s cousin,” the Spaniard pressed on, his tone serious as he gestured toward Gilbert. “If you take Lovina to Austria, it won’t just look like a visit between sisters. It will appear as though the Germanic nations are consolidating power, like you’re handing over the southern territories of Italy to him—like Austria is absorbing all of Italy.”

Gilbert’s eyebrows furrowed even more. He hadn’t considered that aspect when forming his plan. He’d been so focused on making Lovina happy that he hadn’t thought through the potential consequences…

“It’s not the right time,” Antonio added with a sigh, “Roderich is already dealing with unrest after securing the northern territory. If this is misinterpreted, it could fuel even more resistance—not just against him, but against me, too.”

His words were cautious, and the Prussian couldn’t argue with the reasoning behind them. “We can’t let anyone think there’s a conflict brewing between our empires. That could cause panic.”

Gilbert understood. He wasn’t one to follow rules—hell, he barely acknowledged them—but even he knew when to step back. Antonio had a point, and it was a good one. There had been too many wars over land and power already. Too many lives lost. Gilbert might be the first to throw himself into battle and prove his strength, but he also understood the cost of war. The fear of war could be just as dangerous as war itself. The moment people believed conflict was inevitable, it became inevitable.

He got it. He really did. But that didn’t make it any less disappointing…

He had hoped to reunite Lovina with her sister. He hadn’t even told her about his plan yet—he wanted to get Emma and Antonio’s approval first. But now, he realized, there was no point. After hearing Antonio’s concerns, he knew Lovina wouldn’t be leaving the country with him anytime soon. The realization left him disheartened, and he let out a quiet sigh.

As he brooded in silence, (because… what else could he do?) Emma, too, looked disappointed by her husband’s words. But unlike Gilbert, who remained lost in thought, she actually spoke up. Props for boldness!

"Antonio… stop finding the worst in everything!" she burst out, drawing startled looks from both her lover and her white-haired friend, who once again found himself surprised by her brazenness. "You’re worrying more about political stability—which is just a possibility, not a certainty—than the emotional well-being of a poor girl who only wants to see her sister, which is a certainty!" she added, fixing her husband with a pointed stare.

Antonio’s eyes widened in shock. He met her gaze, torn between the two perspectives.

"Emma… I…" he stammered, as if searching for an answer he didn’t have. And perhaps he truly didn’t, because after a brief hesitation, he straightened and said firmly: "I don’t know what to say..."

But that, apparently, wasn’t enough to make his wife back down.

"Antonio!" Emma's voice rose slightly, yet there was a gentleness to it now, as if she understood his reasoning, his fears about this entire ordeal. Still, her determination, or rather, her care for Lovina, outweighed her hesitation.

"Come back to your senses! I care about our Empire just as much as you do, and I would hate to see our people frightened by supposed war declarations, but," and that ‘but’ was firm, "I don’t believe two months will destroy its political stability. And neither will Roderich’s."

She let out a quiet breath, her green eyes locking with his. That alone seemed to ease some of the reluctance on Antonio’s face, though not enough to sway him entirely.

"Please, love," she coaxed with a soft smile. "We don’t know when we’ll get another chance to leave our territories. This could be her only opportunity to see her sister."

Antonio fell silent, his gaze drifting from hers to the floor as he considered her words. The Empress, sensing the need to approach from a different angle, pressed on.

"You remember how lonely I was my first year here, when I couldn’t see my brothers?" she said, her voice tinged with recollection. His eyes met hers again, lips parting slightly at the reminder.

"I was happy with you," she continued, her tone softer now, allowing her words to settle between them. "But I still longed to share that happiness with my family. Lovina must feel the same."

Tilting her head, she added, "And you told me yourself… if your duties weren’t so demanding, you’d want to do something for her. Well, now you can."

She gestured toward Gilbert, who had remained mostly silent, an awkward expression lingering on his face as he watched the exchange.

"You just have to acknowledge it."

Well, damn, that was one way to end a speech! Gilbert was genuinely impressed, if there was even a word for it. He knew Emma had a way with words, persuasive in a manner that often caught people off guard… but even he hadn’t anticipated something like this.

Honestly, he thought, if I were in Antonio’s place, refusing her after a speech like that would be nearly impossible. How could any man say no when a woman looked at him like that?

Antonio seemed to share the same thoughts as his friend. He sat in thoughtful silence, mulling over her words as his gaze drifted around the room: the couch, the table, the food… When his eyes met hers again, he held them for a moment, and it was clear he could no longer bring himself to argue.

With a soft exhale, he brought a hand to his temples, rubbing them as though the decision he’d just made—likely in favor of Emma and Gilbert, if that wasn’t obvious—was already giving him a headache.

"Well, if you put it that way…" he began, pausing just long enough to build anticipation (at least on Gilbert’s side). Then, with another sigh, he finally relented.

"I suppose two months in Austria isn’t long enough for anyone to get the wrong impression..."

He hadn’t officially granted his friend’s request yet, but the way he phrased it made it clear that was where he was headed.

Before he could speak another word, Emma practically leapt at him, throwing her arms around his shoulders in triumphant joy.

"Mwah!" she exclaimed, planting a firm kiss on his cheek.

"I love you so, so much!"

At that, Gilbert quickly glanced away, feeling like an intruder on a private moment—kind of like when he'd first arrived in Spain, if he was being honest… Still, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that whatever emotional tactic Emma had used on Antonio had actually worked. Then again, when didn’t Toni listen to Em? He always seemed to do whatever it took to keep from breaking her heart…

Maybe that’s just what happens when a man is in love…

Anyway, no need to dwell on sentiments foreign to him. What mattered was that Antonio had granted him permission—he could take Lovina to see her sister. Awesome! Yet, just like Antonio, now that the subject was on the table, the political concerns still lingered in his mind. He didn’t want to stir up trouble or disrupt the peace… but Emma had a point as well. Two months was hardly enough time to cause any real issues. If it were a year or more, then yes, that would have been a problem.

But Gilbert had to return to Spain soon anyway to renew trade documents between his kingdom and Antonio’s. That would be when he brought Lovina back, too. So really, there was no need to overthink it! For now, at least.

He should just enjoy this small victory—the fact that his plan could move forward.

His gaze flicked to Antonio and Emma, still caught up in their… thing, he supposed he could call it. Deciding to wait for them to be done with that, he let his eyes settle on the table instead, already thinking ahead… to the moment Lovina would realize she was actually going to see her sister again.

He imagined her smile, a real smile, and, somehow, that thought made him happy…

Antonio gently ran a hand through Emma’s hair as she clung to him a little longer. His lingering hesitation was still evident, but so was his willingness to go along with his friend’s request. The small sympathetic smile on his lips conveyed exactly that.

When Emma finally pulled away, he met her gaze, and though the words were meant for Gilbert, he said them to her.

"You know… it’s a good idea. Lovina will be happy."

Emma beamed at him before shifting on the couch and turning to Gilbert, who was absentmindedly staring at the wine bottle on the table. She gave a small gesture to catch his attention, and when he glanced up, she asked brightly:

"Does Lovina know? Have you told her about this yet?"

Gilbert blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. It took a moment for the question to register before he shook his head.

"No," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "I wanted to get your approval first. Didn’t want to get her hopes up only to let her down." He offered a small smile.

Emma nodded in understanding, then added: "Well then… shall I call for her?"

The king cast her a surprised look, tilting his head slightly.

“Uh, now?” he asked. He knew Lovina was usually busy in the middle of the day and didn’t want to disrupt her so suddenly. “Isn’t she busy?” he added with a small chuckle. “I don’t want to—”

Before he could finish, Emma cut him off.

“Nonsense!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “This is far too important for her not to know immediately! She can catch up on her piano lessons another day, but this..! This is worth interrupting her for!” She brought both hands into fists in front of her face, shaking them up and down in determination.

Gilbert stared at her for a moment and recognized the motion—it was one Lovina often made, too. Had she picked it up from Emma? The thought crossed his mind briefly before he shook it off. His gaze shifted to Antonio, who simply nodded before adding:

“Mi corazón is right.”

Well… that settled it. With both of them in agreement, there was no point in arguing.

“Alright then,” Gilbert replied, though he suddenly felt a flicker of nervousness. Telling Lovina about his plan felt different now that it was real. There was always the chance she’d refuse… perhaps a month hadn’t been enough for her to fully trust the white-haired stranger she’d met.

If that happened, he wouldn’t blame her. It was her choice, after all. But deep down, he had a feeling she would accept. He’d seen the sorrow in her eyes when she spoke of Feliciana, seen how much she longed to see her again—how she’d do anything for it. But the thing was, she wouldn’t have to do anything. He was going to make it happen for her. He would see it through.

With renewed determination, he gave a nod toward the two royals and said:

“Call for her.”

And that’s exactly what followed. Antonio summoned one of his attendants to fetch Lovina from one of the many music rooms in the castle. It took perhaps half an hour or more, but eventually, the man returned, the young brunette following behind him, with her handmaid just a few steps away.

Lovina looked rather confused about being summoned so suddenly. She stepped into the room while her attendant and handmaid remained just outside. The court member quietly shut the door, leaving her to glance around at the people gathered before her.

Her gaze landed on Emma and Antonio first, noting their warm expressions. Then, her hazel eyes shifted to the Prussian king, who was already watching her. She blinked at him a few times, and he offered a small wave, smiling her way. But for once, that smile of his wasn’t the usual carefree or confident one… it was shy. Shy. Which, honestly, was not like him at all.

Emma quickly gestured for Lovina to take a seat beside her on the couch. When she complied, the Empress, mindful that it would be best if Gilbert shared the news himself, hesitated briefly before making a suggestion. Since there was a lot to discuss, she asked if she or Antonio should deliver it in Spanish, as it would be easier for Lovina to understand than if Gilbert used English.

Antonio agreed, allowing his wife to take the lead, as she seemed eager to deliver the news. Gilbert gave a small nod, realizing he hadn't thought about how to simplify everything he'd explained to Antonio and Emma for Lovina. Emma’s offer came as a welcome relief—it was definitely for the best.

And with that, the Empress began explaining everything to Lovina in Spanish, occasionally gesturing toward Gilbert. Each time she did, the brunette threw him a confused look before turning back to Emma.

Gilbert couldn't figure out how to sit properly anymore. He kept shifting his limbs on the couch, his heart racing in an odd, restless way, his hands uncomfortably clammy. He knew Emma hadn't reached the main point of their discussion yet, Lovina still looked too puzzled for that, and maybe that was what had him so on edge…

But that tension vanished in an instant, replaced by, God knows what, when Emma gestured his way again. Only this time, Lovina didn't look confused. She stared at him, wide-eyed, her expression shifting into something startled, something that sent a jolt straight through him.

And then, the Empress stopped speaking.

Ah. That meant she had just told her about… his, well, awesome idea. Ah…

Gilbert locked eyes with those hazel ones staring so intently at him, and for a moment, a short one that somehow felt much longer, they just stared at each other.

Then, all of a sudden, Lovina’s eyes turned glossy, her mouth twitched, and she quickly averted her gaze. Without a word, she turned back to the Empress and raised her hands to cover her face entirely.

Antonio shifted in his seat, peering over his wife’s shoulder, most likely confused by the whole scene. Emma, too, regarded the girl with a surprised look, as if even she hadn’t expected this reaction.

Gilbert blinked, shook his head slightly—had he really just seen that? But then came the nearly silent sob, confirming that, yes, this was real. His brows furrowed, and his conflicted feelings only deepened.

She was… crying?

God, that was the last thing he’d expected! He’d assumed she’d be bursting with joy, not… crying! And what kind of tears were those? He knew some people cried when they were happy… but most people cried when they were upset.
Did she find his idea that revolting?

Wow, Gilbert. And to think he’d been confident enough to believe she’d be on board. Get over yourself.

He didn’t say anything. He already felt awkward enough knowing he’d somehow made the former Italian princess cry. With a quiet sigh, he dropped his gaze to the floor, letting the uncertainty settle in his chest…

Yet, maybe he should have kept up his confident demeanor, because not even a second later, between the soft sobs Lovina was releasing, he suddenly heard her… laugh.

His heart pounded strangely in his chest. His head snapped up, eyes locking onto her again. And—yes. She was laughing.

She wiped her hands over her eyes, trying to stop the tears—now, clearly, ones of joy—from spilling any further. Emma cupped Lovina’s head, pulling her close and running a soothing hand up and down her back, whispering quiet phrases in Spanish… and French, too. Antonio had an empathetic smile on his face.

So… did this mean—?

Before he could finish that thought, Lovina finally calmed down. She pulled away from the Empress’s embrace and shifted on the couch so she could face him directly. Gilbert stiffened slightly.

Then, she raised her gaze, and when I tell you—she cast a look his way unlike anything he had ever seen from her before. Not once.

She was smiling. Softly. Subtly. Her eyebrows were still slightly furrowed, likely from all the crying, and her hazel eyes still held the remnants of those tears. But the expression on her face, so genuine, so real, made something inside him stutter.

His heart pounded faster. His eyes widened slightly.

True, he hadn’t expected this reaction at all, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t so much better, much more genuine, than anything he’d anticipated…

Lovina then turned back to the Empress and murmured something in Spanish. Emma nodded before turning to Gilbert and explaining that Lovina was more than happy and thankful for his proposal—and, of course, more than willing to go along with it.

But honestly? Gilbert had already figured that out himself.

Because that smile—that smile—was still burned into his mind. And he doubted it would be leaving anytime soon.

They didn’t really get a chance to talk properly, as Antonio and Emma quickly became engrossed in asking Gilbert about his travel plans—what route he intended to take, which countries he’d pass through on his way to Austria, and so on. Fair enough, it was only natural for them to worry about Lovina.

Still, he had hoped for a moment alone with her… (By that, he meant without Antonio or Emma, as court members would still be present in such a scenario.)

Before long, Lovina excused herself from the room, likely due to her lectures. But before leaving, she cast him one final glance, a much smaller smile this time, but a smile nonetheless.

And once again, something in his chest twisted in that strange way he hadn’t quite figured out yet…

He didn’t dwell on it, though. More than anything, he was relieved that everything had gone well in the end. Happy, even, if one could say that.

He remained with Antonio and Emma a while longer, answering more of their questions—about his journey, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and other details concerning his departure with Lovina in just a few days. It was the usual sort of talk that came with traveling between countries.

Once those matters were settled, he excused himself as well. The clock had just struck five, and his advisors had been constantly reminding him that he needed to make preparations—his luggage, the arrangements for the portion of his court traveling with him, and everything else required for the journey.

Emma and Antonio waved him off with smiles, and soon, Gilbert was back in his guest chambers.

First, he took a moment to bask in his victory—his plan to reunite the two Italian sisters was actually happening! He recalled the smile Lovina had thrown his way, and once again, his heart swelled with an unfamiliar warmth. He still wasn’t sure why it affected him so much…

Then, shaking off the distraction, he turned his attention to organizing the return journey. He needed to decide how his court would travel back—who would ride in which carriage, which guards he’d assign first, and all the other logistical details. Now that all the gifts he’d brought for Antonio and Emma had been handed over, several carriages were free, giving him more options to work with. There was a lot to get done.

But before he could fully dive into his plans, a member of his court arrived with a letter.
At first, Gilbert thought it might be from Lovina—after all, with everything she’d just learned, it wouldn’t be surprising if she had questions. But when he got a closer look, he noticed the red wax seal on the envelope. The stamp wasn’t from Spain.

It was from his kingdom.

More specifically, the royal bureau, the office he oversaw. Which meant that, since he was here in Spain, the only person who could have sent this was… Ludwig.

Gilbert’s brows lifted in surprise. He’d told his younger brother that there was no need to send letters… one month away was hardly anything, but maybe something serious had come up. If Ludwig had gone through the trouble of writing to him, it had to be important, right?

Frowning slightly, he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, scanning the German text inside.

Except… the "serious matter" he’d expected, was nowhere to be found.

The letter simply stated that Ludwig would be traveling to Austria in a few weeks. No explanation, no details, just a casual note that while he was away, the remaining royal advisers would handle things.

Gilbert stared at the words. His brow twitched.

Ludwig!

His first instinct was to wrinkle the paper in frustration. If he’d wanted the royal advisers to run the kingdom in his absence, he wouldn’t have appointed Ludwig to handle things in his place! And Ludwig knew that! What was he thinking?

But then, Gilbert paused.

His brother was nothing if not responsible—meticulously so. He never made reckless decisions, never stepped out of line. Which meant…

This wasn’t just some whim. There had to be a reason Ludwig was going to Austria. A good one.

So why hadn’t he said why?

Gilbert exhaled through his nose, annoyance still simmering—but beneath it, a flicker of something else...

Pride!

Which he knew he shouldn’t feel. He shouldn’t be encouraging this kind of behavior. But, honestly—this was Ludwig! Ludwig, actually making a rash decision for once in his life! It was a once-in-a-lifetime event!

Gilbert couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking his head in disbelief.

He debated whether to send a reply. Though, there wasn’t much point—he’d be arriving in Austria himself in just a few weeks, and his letter probably wouldn’t even reach Ludwig before he did. No, better to just ask him in person.

With that settled, he set the letter aside and turned his focus back to planning.

Not too long after, another court member arrived with yet another letter.

This time, upon glancing at the seal, Gilbert realized it was from Lovina.

Immediately, he set aside his planning. The dictionary he’d been keeping in his room, his essential guide for translating Lovina’s letters, was pulled out once again. By now, he’d gotten rather used to the process, so it didn’t take him long to piece together the meaning.

Her letter was simple but direct.

She thanked him for what he was doing for her, admitting she hadn’t expected it at all. She told him she was happy.

And then, of course, she had to insist that he ignore the fact that she’d cried in front of him. That he should forget about it entirely because, as she put it, it was embarrassing!

At the bottom, she had signed it simply: Lovina.

Gilbert lingered over the words for a moment, rereading the last lines before a chuckle escaped him. Of course she’d care about something like that… But even so, she was happy.

And, strangely enough, knowing that made him happy too. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but—well, he supposed it wasn’t so different from any other friendship he had…

With that content feeling settled in his chest, he finally turned back to his planning, only to realize, thanks to all the interruptions, he’d probably have to start over from scratch.

He let out a sigh.

…Yeah. That sounded about right.

Chapter Text

The days leading up to their departure passed in a blur. With so much to oversee, Gilbert had little time to spend with Lovina, and she, too, was occupied with preparations for the journey. As a result, they exchanged only a few letters. Antonio and Emma were just as preoccupied, ensuring everything was in order for them both.

Spanish attendants packed a modest selection of Lovina’s clothing, trusting the Austro-Hungarian court to provide whatever else she might need. Meanwhile, Gilbert’s attendants handled his belongings and other essentials for the return trip, while the King personally oversaw the final carriage arrangements.

Before they knew it, the day of departure arrived—sooner than either had expected. They had known the date, of course, but with so much keeping them occupied, time had slipped away faster than they realized.

The sun had yet to rise when Gilbert and Lovina were up and ready to leave the Spanish mainland. A biting chill lingered in the air, the land coated in a thin layer of hoarfrost, and the wind howled in the distance.

Gilbert’s attire differed from what he had worn in Spain. Rather than the robes of a king, he dressed as a nobleman or a traveler. This way, he would attract less attention when stopping at inns and other waypoints along the journey.

He wore a long black cloak lined with thick fur at the shoulders, possibly ermine, though he wasn’t certain. Either way, it kept him warm. Beneath it, he wore a fitted black tunic reinforced with leather straps and a wide belt at his waist. Black trousers, sturdy boots, and leather gloves completed the ensemble. If it snowed—judging by the cold, it likely would one of these days—he’d be prepared. (He had learned that lesson—the importance of dressing well for cold weather—the hard way once, during a trip to the Russian lands…)

Lovina, too, was dressed warmly. A flowing black cloak, lined with fur at the collar, draped over her shoulders, fastened at the front with a silver clasp engraved with the Spanish crest. Gilbert’s own clasp bore the insignia of his kingdom. The heavy fabric would keep her warm should they need to step outside. Underneath, she wore a teal gown of fine, thick fabric, likely chosen by the Emperor and Empress to ensure she traveled in quality attire. Sturdy black leather boots, laced to the knee, peeked out from beneath her hem—perfect for the long journey ahead. A pair of silver gloves shielded her hands from the cold, and a fur-lined hood could be drawn up against the wind.

She was dressed beautifully for such a long journey, and Gilbert found himself glancing her way more often than he meant to…

They had yet to enter the carriage, as Emma and Antonio clung to Lovina, fussing over her in Spanish, likely telling her to be careful. They extended the same concern to Gilbert, urging him not to take any dangerous routes, especially with the Italian girl accompanying him now. He reassured them that he had already mapped out their path, choosing a safe and familiar route. They would pass through France as usual, but this time, they would also travel through Switzerland, since he wasn’t heading directly to his kingdom, but to the Austrian one. He had double-checked everything to ease their worries.

Even so, Emma and Antonio lingered, fretting over Lovina until she huffed in irritation. At last, they let her go, allowing her to step toward the carriage. They hugged Gilbert as well before waving them off with smiles, reminding him they would expect his arrival in February. Antonio even pulled him aside to whisper a final request: to take care of Lovina.

Gilbert thought, with some amusement, that Antonio’s trust in him seemed thin when it came to the young girl. Still, he reassured him once more, nothing would happen to Lovina. He was certain of it.

Turning toward the main carriage, he caught up with the brunette, offering her a smile as he gestured for her to enter. She nodded, and the footman helped her up. Once she was settled, Gilbert followed, taking the seat opposite her. The German footman shut the door behind him, then signaled the drivers.

As the carriages began to move, Antonio and Emma waved until they were little more than distant figures. Gilbert waved back, and Lovina managed a small wave of her own before exhaling in exasperation at the royal couple’s clinginess.

The speed picked up, the Spanish palace fading from view.

At last, they were on the road.

For a while, they sat in silence, watching the buildings of the capital pass by as the carriage made its way through the city. Then, at last, Lovina spoke.

“Gilbert…”

At the sound of his name, he immediately lost interest in whatever was outside the window, turning his full attention to her. He smiled and asked, “Yeah?” his gaze settling on her flustered expression.

Why was she so flustered? He wasn’t entirely sure. Perhaps it felt strange for her to be alone with him in the carriage, given that her handmaid—the only Spanish court member accompanying her—was traveling in the staff carriage just behind them. That was custom, of course; the footman seated outside was more than enough to ensure propriety. Still, maybe she felt uneasy… Or maybe he was just overthinking things. He couldn’t exactly read her mind.

Lovina blinked at him, then parted her lips as if about to say something. But when her eyes met his again, she hesitated. Whatever she had been about to say seemed to change at the last moment.

“We… are going through France?” she asked instead.

Gilbert nodded, choosing not to dwell on whether that had truly been her original question.

“Yeah, and Switzerland too, since we’re heading to Austria. When I travel straight home, I usually just go through France—through the capital and all.” he answered, his grin unwavering.

“We will go… into the capital of France?” Lovina pressed, tilting her head slightly.

Gilbert gave a quick, dismissive wave of his hand. “Ah, no. Just the borders—maybe a few villages near them. The Austro-Hungarian Empire is farther east, so traveling through the capital would only lengthen our journey.” He let out a small, nervous laugh. “I hope you weren’t expecting Paris… I’d hate to disappoint.”

Lovina shook her head firmly. “I just asked! The borders… are fine!” she replied, stumbling slightly over her words. She glanced out the window, as if gathering her thoughts, then turned back to him.

“How long?” she asked abruptly.

Gilbert blinked, caught off guard. “How long until we reach France?” he echoed.

“Austria.” Lovina corrected with a small exhale.

“Ah.” He chuckled, amused by their back-and-forth. “If the horses keep a steady pace from morning to sundown without too many stops—and if we don’t hit snow in Switzerland—four weeks. If not, six.” He rubbed the back of his neck, as if calculating the worst-case scenario.

Lovina studied him for a moment, her brown-green eyes thoughtful. Then, with a slow nod, she turned back to the window, watching the landscape roll past.

Something in Lovina’s expression made it seem as though she had something to say. Whether she wasn’t ready or simply didn’t want to say it now was unclear.

Gilbert considered asking but held back. He didn’t want to pry. If she wanted to speak, she would—eventually. Or maybe she wouldn’t. He couldn’t be sure. So instead, he turned his gaze toward the window, letting the quiet settle between them.

Minutes passed as they watched the sun rise over the buildings and open landscape. Gilbert didn’t mind the silence, but with weeks of travel ahead, he didn’t want it to stretch on forever. It would be nice, he thought, to actually talk more. Not about anything serious—just… anything.

His gaze drifted back to her. In the dim, growing light, her features looked softer, touched by the gold of the early morning sun. Where the light met her dark hair, it burned with an amber glow, like a candle’s flame.

He lingered on her, unsure why, before shaking off the thought. Right. Conversation. Nothing too emotional—he didn’t want to bring up her sister and risk pulling her into nostalgia. But nothing too trivial, either.

Hmmm. What to say…?

He frowned slightly, then turned his attention to the passing scenery again, just as she was doing. Taverns, houses, trees—everything blurred past. And as he watched it all go by, a memory suddenly surfaced. When he and his little brother were much younger, their father had come up with a way to keep them entertained on long journeys while slipping in a bit of learning (because that was just the kind of man their old man was). And now, as the memory came back to him, Gilbert suddenly felt enlightened. He knew exactly how to break the silence.

Aha!

He turned back to Lovina almost too abruptly, his face bright with enthusiasm.

"Lovina!" he called and she turned to him with a puzzled expression.

“I have a fun way to pass the time!” Gilbert announced with a grin. “Since the journey’s pretty long, you know?”

The girl blinked, tilting her head and raising a brow. “Fun thing?” she echoed, skeptical.

He nodded. “Mhm! When Ludwig and I were younger, we had this… well, I guess you could call it a game for long trips. My old man actually came up with it to get me to learn English, since I was a difficult kid who wouldn’t sit through a lesson without either being forced or dozing off.” He chuckled at the memory. “Later, I started doing the same with my kid brother. Though, for Ludwig, it wasn’t much of a challenge. If anything, it was more of a challenge for me to not get annoyed at how much he already knew.”

Gilbert shook his head, amused, before glancing at Lovina to gauge her reaction.

She just stared at him, clearly confused. Had he spoken too fast? Or maybe he’d rambled too much at once? But after a beat, she gave a small nod, proof that she’d at least somewhat understood.

“What is this English game?” she asked, still looking uncertain.

The Prussian waved his hands dismissively. “Ah, it’s not an English game, haha. It’s just a language thing. But me and Ludwig did it in English.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “So, we look outside the window—” he gestured toward it with his eyes, “—and I say something I see in English. Then you have to tell me what it is in… Italian! Since that’s what you speak. Me and my brother did it in German since that’s our other language. And if you don’t know the word, you just take a guess!”

He gave her a thumbs-up, but Lovina only blinked, brow furrowing slightly. Either she didn’t get it or just didn’t like the idea.

Seeing her reaction, Gilbert hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Or… uh,” he trailed off, glancing at the window. “I can just leave you to… you know… look outside, like you were doing… haha…”

At that, Lovina’s expression changed. Her eyes widened slightly, startled, before she quickly shook her head.

“I… can try!” she exclaimed, pointing a finger at herself, as if to make it clear she meant it.

Gilbert barely had time to register her words before those damn hazel eyes locked onto his again—this time more intensely, if that was even the right way to describe it.

His hands suddenly felt oddly clammy… Good thing he had gloves on, or she’d probably notice. And his heart… it felt weird.

Trying to shake off the strange sensation in his chest, he thumped his sternum a few times with his fist, as if clearing his throat. (It didn’t help.) Deciding to ignore it altogether, he refocused and forced a grin.

“Awesome! I’ll use English, and you can use Italian. You’d be surprised by how skilled I already am with it! I know a bunch of words!” he declared proudly, jabbing a thumb at himself.

Across from him, Lovina let out a snort.

“Sei davvero così abile?” (Are you really that skilled?) she asked suddenly in Italian.

Gilbert blinked. He hadn’t caught everything, but he recognized “sei”—which meant she was talking about him. About what, though? His earlier boast, maybe?

When he looked at her, she was watching him with a coy glint in her eyes, her sneer slight but unmistakable.

“Ah… I am what?” he asked, letting out a small, awkward laugh.

Lovina snickered, amused by his confusion. She took a moment, relishing the fact that her English was far better than his Italian. For once, when it came to language, she had the upper hand in their exchanges.

With a satisfied sigh, she leaned back. “I want to start.”

Gilbert ignored the fact that she hadn’t translated her earlier words and simply nodded, pleased she was willing to play along.

“Alright,” he said, clasping his hands together with his usual competitive confidence. “Start!”

And so, as the saying goes, the game began.

Lovina stared out the window, mulling over her options for a brief moment before turning back to the king.

“Strada.” she said, watching him expectantly.

Gilbert furrowed his brow, bringing a hand to his chin. “Hmmm…” He let out a thoughtful sound, his mind working through the word. Lovina smiled—not an innocent smile, but the kind that enjoyed watching him struggle. She was competitive, just like him.

‘Strada’… He knew he’d seen it before. It was familiar… too familiar. And it sounded an awful lot like “Straße” in German, which meant "street." Wait—hold on. His eyes lit up as he snapped his fingers together. He had it. ‘Strada’ meant street!

“Ah, it’s ‘street,’ isn’t it?” he asked.

Lovina’s lips pressed into a pout, clearly disappointed he’d figured it out. But after a beat, she gave a small nod. Her pout softened into a reluctant smile, and with a flick of her hand, she motioned for him to continue.

“All right, lemme see…” the Prussian muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, as he gazed out the window at the passing scenery.

He hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to give her a word that was too simple as she already knew a wide range of English vocabulary. But at the same time, he had to choose something he actually knew in Italian, which meant avoiding anything too difficult…

His eyes wandered over the landscape until they landed on a fence.

Ah. “Recinto”. He remembered seeing that word in the dictionary he’d borrowed from one of Toni’s libraries. He mulled it over for a moment before deciding—yeah, you know what? This would do. Not too hard, not too easy. She probably knew it, but it’d still make her think.

Turning back to her, he met her gaze and said, “Fence.” Then, with a slight smirk, he returned her smile.

At that, Lovina let out an “Oh!” and gestured with her hand, as if the word were on the tip of her tongue. For a moment, she seemed to wrestle with it—then, all at once, it clicked.

“Scherma!” she exclaimed, determined.

“Huh?” Gilbert blinked, giving her a confused look. “Scher…ma?” He tried to pronounce it, though it sounded nothing like the Italian word he’d had in mind. Was it a synonym for recinto? Maybe… He considered asking her, but before he could, Lovina spoke up again.

“Yes, scherma!” she echoed, nodding confidently. “Fence with… spade!” (swords). She mimicked the motion of swinging a sword, still looking rather proud of herself.

“Ohhhh,” Gilbert let out as realization dawned on him. She had thought he meant fencing, the sport with swords, not an actual fence. That explained why the word she used didn’t match the one he had in mind.

It didn’t entirely make sense that her mind had gone straight to that meaning. He glanced out the window—there was no way anyone would be fencing out here. But then he looked back at her, at the way she beamed with pride, clearly pleased with herself.

Well… it’s not like she was wrong.

Normally, he wouldn’t let something like this slide in any kind of game. He was too competitive for that. But, for whatever reason, that side of him wasn’t as sharp at the moment. Maybe it was just because they’d only just started the game. Maybe. No other reason. Certainly not because he liked seeing her look so proud and happy with herself. Nope. Definitely not.

With a curt nod and a small smile, he said, “Ah, yeah, you’re right!”

She clapped her hands together, basking in her small victory, before turning to gaze out the window again. After a moment, her eyes flicked back to him.

“Pastore.” she said, giving him the next word.

Gilbert didn’t recognize it outright, but it sounded so much like pastor in English that he’d bet it meant exactly that. And, conveniently, they had just passed a church.

“Pastor?” he guessed.

Lovina narrowed her eyes in thought before asking, “Pastor is the one with sheep?” She pointed out the window toward a hill where a shepherd tended to a grazing flock.

Ah. That’s what she meant.

“Shepherd?” he asked, following her gaze.

Lovina nodded.

“Ah,” he exhaled. “Then I was wrong. A pastor is the one in charge of a church, and a shepherd is the one who looks after sheep.” He shook his head, feigning disappointment. “But it sounded so much like what you said, so I thought I’d be right.”

Lovina listened, then lifted a finger, an amused look crossing her features. “One more point for me!”

Well, damn. It seemed her competitiveness was still very much intact—unlike his. Gilbert chuckled at her smug little gesture but told himself to focus. If she was this determined to win, then he had no choice but to match her energy.

Smirking, he leaned back slightly. “Okay then,” he mused, a bold look in his eyes. “Guess I gotta step up my game.”

They continued their little game for a while, the words they threw at each other becoming increasingly harder. Gilbert found himself using terms he didn’t even know how to say in Italian, which kind of defeated the point of the game—but it wasn’t just him. She was doing the same, tossing out words like “belfry” and “buttress.” (In Italian, of course.)

These weren’t the kinds of words you could easily guess unless you were fluent in the language. But strangely, that only made the game more fun, more entertaining.

(For those who don’t know: A belfry is a structure that houses bells, typically as part of a bell tower, while a buttress is a stone or brick structure built against a wall to support or reinforce it.)

They eventually ended their game when Lovina, visibly tired from their early start that morning, began to doze off. Gilbert wasn’t sure who had actually won the exchange, but he figured it was better that way—no room for victory, but neither defeat.

Soon enough, Lovina drifted into sleep, her head resting against the side of the carriage, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Some of her bangs slipped into her eyes, obscuring them just a little, and her chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. Gilbert stayed awake, not feeling particularly tired, and watched the passing Spanish village outside the window.

His gaze shifted back to the girl opposite him. She looked so peaceful, so at ease, that a soft smile tugged at his lips. He felt a strange sense of contentment—content that he had seen this journey through and that she would soon be reunited with her sister. He couldn’t wait to see the joy on her face when that moment came.

It felt strange, really. He had never before wanted so much to bring happiness to someone, not like this. Of course, he wanted that for his brother, and for his friends—but this… this felt different…

He continued to watch her, his eyes following the way her hair fluttered slightly in the breeze coming through the carriage window. Time seemed to slip away as he sat there, lost in the moment.

Then, with a sudden jolt, the carriage shook, likely from a rock or some other obstacle beneath the wheels. The movement caused the still-sleeping Lovina to lurch forward. Gilbert reacted quickly, catching her by the shoulders before she could fall face-first into the seat.

He exhaled a relieved sigh, gently easing her back into a more comfortable position. He was grateful she hadn’t woken from the abrupt jolt, though surprised, as he hadn’t realized how deep a sleeper she was. In doing so, however, his face ended up much closer to hers than he had intended.

He blinked, taken aback at the proximity, his first instinct being to pull away. But something held him there. He couldn’t quite explain why, but he stayed, his gaze lingering on her face…

She looked so serene, so unaware of the moment. His mind raced as he tried to make sense of what he was feeling. She was...

Before the thought could fully form, he snapped back to reality, suddenly aware of the closeness between them. He hastily sat back in his seat, clearing his throat awkwardly, and turned his gaze out the window, the strange feeling in his chest settling into something he quickly passed off as embarrassment.

Yeah, he thought to himself, in this kind of situation with an acquaintance or friend, it’s totally normal to feel embarrassed... yup.

He remained certain that that was definitely the case, and to keep his mind from replaying the moment more than necessary, he focused on the map he’d brought with him. His eyes traced over the roads and villages, trying to figure out where they were now, having long since left the capital of Spain behind.

At noon, they stopped in a small village to eat, along with his court, while the horses were given food, water, and a chance to rest before continuing. Gilbert had to wake Lovina, who seemed rather disoriented at first, but the mention of food quickly brought her back to life. She stepped out of the carriage eagerly, her usual energy returning.

There weren’t any high-class taverns around—it was just a village, after all—but that didn’t bother Gilbert in the slightest. Still, he sent a few of his attendants ahead to find the best option, just in case. He wasn’t sure if Lovina would be willing to eat just anywhere, considering she had spent most of her life as a princess and the past half-year in the Spanish court, where conditions were hardly different. She had refined tastes, and she had made that very clear—especially when it came to food.

They ended up at a decent enough place, and, thankfully, she didn’t seem too disappointed with the meal. That was good enough for him.

Once everyone, horses included, had eaten and rested, they resumed their journey.

Lovina fell asleep (again) almost immediately.

Gilbert glanced at her, once again surprised by how deeply she could sleep and in just about any condition. It was honestly amusing. But… well, she did have the right idea.

Leaning back, he let his eyes drift shut, forcing himself not to think too much. And, in the end, he actually managed to fall asleep too.

It was already dark when the carriage came to an abrupt halt, jolting the young king out of his sleep. He shifted in his seat, momentarily disoriented, and rubbed a hand over his eyes in an attempt to shake off the lingering drowsiness.
His gaze flickered to Lovina—she was still fast asleep, completely undisturbed by the sudden stop.

A knock at the door pulled his attention away.

“Come in…” he ordered, his voice low and groggy.

The door swung open, letting in a sharp gust of cold air, and in the dim light spilling from a structure behind him, the footman who had been driving the carriage appeared in the doorway. Gilbert was still blinking away his confusion, but, fortunately, the footman wasted no time in explaining.

“Your Majesty, please forgive my suddenness,” he pleaded, offering a curt bow before meeting his ruler’s gaze again. “But the horses are exhausted. After the brief stop this afternoon, we’ve had no further breaks, and I believe it would be best to stop here for the night. If we don’t, they may not be able to carry on tomorrow.” He bowed once more. “Your advisors have all but agreed with this decision.”

The albino considered his words, then glanced past him at the large tavern ahead, standing seemingly in the middle of nowhere. He raised a brow.

“What village is this?” he asked, stretching his neck slightly.

“Sigüenza, Your Majesty.” the footman replied, bowing yet again.

"Hmm…" Gilbert mused, taking in the name. He recognized it from the map he had read. His gaze flickered back to the tavern. “Can it accommodate everyone?”

The footman nodded. “One of your advisors sent an attendant ahead to check, and it seems there are enough spare rooms, given how large the tavern is.”

“Well then,” Gilbert said, finding no reason to argue, “tell my advisors to begin arranging the accommodations. Make sure everyone gets a room, including yourselves, and have someone see to the horses—if this tavern has stables, I want them properly cared for.”

The footman bowed in acknowledgment. “Right away, Your Majesty.”

And with that, he was off.

Gilbert still felt groggy, his body heavy with sleep, but he pushed the thought aside—he’d be back in bed soon enough. He stifled a yawn before turning his attention to Lovina. He needed to wake her.

Gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a slight shake. “Lovina…” he murmured.

She stirred, her eyes cracking open just a little, hazy with confusion. Encouraged, he pressed on. “We need to get off now—we’re staying here for the night.” He gestured toward the tavern just a short walk from where they sat.

Lovina barely glanced in its direction before letting out a soft hum and shifting away from him, as if to settle back into sleep.

Gilbert sighed. “Lovina…” he urged again, only to be met with a displeased murmur and a lazy hand swatting him away. Well. That much was clear—she had no interest in getting up. But she couldn’t stay here all night either.

Frowning slightly, he leaned in and shook her again. “Lovina…!”

This time, it worked. She blinked up at him, her expression clouded with irritation, a small frown tugging at her lips.

The Prussian merely smiled, unfazed, and motioned toward the open carriage door. “We have to get off…” he told her, his voice still quiet, as if easing her awake.

Lovina sighed and gave a small nod before rubbing her eyes, trying to shake off the last traces of sleep.

Gilbert stepped down from the carriage, the night air biting at his face with an icy sharpness. He barely had a moment to adjust to the chill before turning back to help Lovina down, as the footman was nowhere in sight.

The cold seemed to hit her just as hard, and she instinctively pulled her cloak tighter around herself, scrunching her face in displeasure. A moment later, her handmaid approached from the other carriage, bowing first to Gilbert before speaking to Lovina in Spanish—likely repeating what he had already told her, that they would be staying here for the night.

Gilbert’s advisors soon followed, informing him that the rest of the court had gone ahead to check into the available rooms. They had also arranged accommodations for both him and Lovina.

He gave a brief nod. “Let’s head inside.” he said, turning to the girl.

She didn’t need any convincing. Clutching her cloak even tighter, she nodded, clearly eager to escape the cold.

With that, they headed toward the tavern, the king’s advisors following close behind.

Gilbert pushed open the heavy dark wooden door and was met with a sight that, while not surprising, piqued his interest. The interior of the tavern was warm and bright, a welcome relief from the bitter cold they had just left behind. The rustic space carried the distinct appeal of traditional Spanish architecture: thick, whitewashed stone walls, dark wooden beams stretching across the ceiling, and a floor of uneven terracotta tiles worn smooth by years of weary travelers passing through.

On one side of the room, Gilbert noticed a long, sturdy wooden bar lined with mismatched stools. Behind it, shelves were filled with earthenware jugs, bottles of deep red wine, and an assortment of spirits. A fire crackled in the large stone fireplace beside the bar, casting a warm glow and serving as a decent light source, aside from just baking bread.

The king spotted some of his court members gathered near the bar, lounging in the tavern’s warmth with drinks in hand. A few had struck up conversations with the barmaids and fellow travelers, though their voices were nearly drowned out by the lively bustle around them. In another corner, a musician—if he could be called that—was occupying a weathered piano, playing a faint, barely audible tune.

This tavern was exactly the kind of place one pictured when thinking of a tavern.

“How lively…” Gilbert mused to himself as he removed his cloak, now more than warmed up. He handed it off to the nearest adviser before shifting his attention to the man behind the front desk, where several key room stands hung neatly on the wall. With a brief gesture for those behind him to follow, he strode toward the desk.

The innkeeper, a cheerful-looking man, glanced up at him in surprise before breaking into an eager smile.

“Ah!” The man sprang to his feet. “You must be the foreign nobleman your many attendants spoke of!” He switched to English as he reached for Gilbert’s hand, shaking it vigorously.

Gilbert chuckled at the man’s enthusiasm. “Ah, yes, nobleman…”

It seemed they were in one of those villages too far from the capital to recognize foreign rulers by sight. They likely knew there was a Germanic king, but they had probably never seen a portrait of him—or anything of the sort. Honestly, that worked in his favor. His entourage already drew enough attention… if the villagers realized he was a king, that attention would only triple.

At least his court was playing along. He had trained them well.

“We’ve never had so many full rooms before! This is such a welcome surprise, sir!” the man exclaimed, still grinning.

Gilbert returned the smile before letting his gaze drift to the few remaining keys hanging on the wall behind the tavern owner—at least, that’s who he assumed the man was.

“Everyone got a room?” he asked, glancing briefly around before turning back to the owner.

“Of course, sir! I handed out nearly every key to those in your company, even the gentlemen behind you!” he said, gesturing toward the advisers before refocusing on Gilbert. “The remaining rooms are for you, sir, and your…” He trailed off, casting a glance at Lovina, who was too busy taking in her surroundings to notice the conversation. “Wife, as well as her handmaid!” He turned back to Gilbert with another polite smile.

At first, the king didn’t even register what the man had implied—perhaps because he was still drowsy. But when the words finally clicked…

“Wife?!” he blurted, snapping his gaze to Lovina. Thankfully, she hadn’t heard, still distracted by the ambiance around them. He quickly turned back to the owner, his expression shifting into something awkward.

“Ah, no,” he said, letting out an uneasy chuckle. “She’s not my… she’s just, ah, she’s—uhm…”

He stumbled over his words, struggling to find an explanation that wouldn’t give the wrong impression. He certainly couldn’t tell this man the truth—that Lovina was traveling with him to reunite with her sister, that she was one of the former princesses of Italy. No! That was out of the question.

But what could he say? Anything else risked sounding far too improper…

The man furrowed his brow slightly, casting another glance in Lovina’s direction before turning back to Gilbert with a ‘knowing’ nod. Then, in a more hushed tone, he asked, “Your mistress?”

You know that feeling when a glass shatters—if that’s even the right expression? Well, that’s exactly how Gilbert felt in that moment.

“Mistress?!” he sputtered, slamming his palm onto the desk—not too hard, but enough to make his disbelief clear. He stared at the man with a frantic expression. “Where did you even get that from?! I don’t— I’m not even married! How could I possibly have a mistress?!”

He shot a quick, awkward glance behind him. His advisers were staring, wide-eyed, having definitely heard the insinuation. Fantastic. But at least Lovina was still distracted, admiring a display of jugs alongside her handmaid. Thank God.

He turned back to the innkeeper, who now looked both startled and confused. Gilbert exhaled sharply, realizing there was no point in trying to explain a relationship between a man and a woman that wasn’t romantic, especially to someone with more conservative views.

“She’s part of my nobleman… court.” he finally said, deciding that was the safest explanation. It required no further details, and more importantly, no more awkward misunderstandings.

“Ah!” The owner let out a small laugh. “My apologies, sir!”

Gilbert nodded, not really sure what else to say. Deciding it was best to move on entirely, he asked, “Can I pay for all the rooms now?”

“Of course, sir. Your total is… 98 silver coins, including care for your horses in our stables.” the man replied.

“Alright,” Gilbert said, reaching for his satchel. He pulled out a pouch containing a hundred silver coins and tossed it across the desk. The innkeeper caught it with a surprised expression.

“I think there’s a hundred in there, but you can count them yourself to be sure. If it’s short, I’ll cover the rest.” Gilbert added.

The owner nodded, clearly pleased by the generous payment. “Of course, and thank you, sir.” He tucked the pouch into his drawer before taking the remaining keys from the wall and handing them over.

“These are your room keys. You’ll be on the top floor. The lady’s handmaid has the room next to hers, and yours is directly across from the lady’s.” he explained.

Gilbert took the keys and gave a polite nod. “Alright, thanks.”

“No, thank you, sir!” the owner said cheerfully, his attention already drifting back to the pouch of money in his drawer.

The Prussian turned to his advisers and took back his cloak from the one he’d handed it to. “Go get some rest as well.” he told them, nodding toward the other attendants, who were already making themselves comfortable around the tavern. The advisers bowed in acknowledgment before dispersing—some heading upstairs to their rooms, others settling in for a drink or meal.

With that settled, Gilbert turned his attention to Lovina, who was still examining the earthenware jugs alongside her handmaid. He smiled slightly at her interest before making his way over.

“Hey,” he said.

Lovina looked up as soon as she noticed him approach.

“I’ve got the room keys…” He held out two of them, and she took them, glancing down at the keys before looking back up at him.

"It's on the top floor. Your room number is on the key, and your handmaid's room is right next to yours.” he explained. Lovina listened attentively.

With that settled, she placed one key in her hand while keeping the other in the other before turning to her handmaid and passing it over. She then said something in Spanish—likely repeating what he had just told her. That struck him as odd, considering the handmaid spoke English. But he soon realized that wasn't the case. Instead, Lovina removed her cloak and gloves, handing them over. The handmaid took them without question, then headed for the stairs and disappeared from sight.

Gilbert wasn’t sure what to make of this or what her next move would be. But before he could dwell on it, the young girl suddenly turned back to him, her expression lighting up with excitement. He wondered what had caused such enthusiasm—if he could even call it that—but her next words quickly answered his question.

She pointed toward the large stone furnace he’d noticed upon entering and exclaimed, “That… that fire is like at home! I want to see it!” She shook her fists up and down in excitement, throwing eager glances its way.

Gilbert followed her gaze to the furnace, caught off guard by her fascination with, well, a kitchen appliance. Still, even if he had to stifle a laugh at the thought, he found her curiosity oddly endearing. With a small shrug, he agreed to go “check the furnace out” with her—since, contextually, that was the proper way to phrase it in English.

Before following her, he handed his cloak, gloves, and room key to an attendant, instructing him to leave them in his quarters. That settled, he joined Lovina near the massive stone furnace she was so eager about.

As they settled close to its warmth, the attendant soon returned and handed Gilbert his key back. With a nod of thanks, Gilbert dismissed the man, letting him return to his rest and enjoy the night.

Lovina was completely absorbed in watching the bread being placed into the furnace and then taken out. It was a simple process, but she observed it with such fascination that it struck Gilbert as a little unusual… princesses weren’t typically this interested in baking, after all. But she had mentioned that it was ‘like at home’, and that made him wonder. Surely, she wasn’t just talking about the oven itself. There had to be something more behind her excitement… or maybe he was overthinking things again? Either way, there was no harm in asking.

“So, uh… nice oven, huh?” he remarked.

The brunette nodded eagerly. “They put the bread on the long… uh, stick of wood, and it… it goes with the fire… and it becomes done!” she explained, gesturing slightly as she searched for the right words.

Her phrasing wasn’t perfect, but Gilbert understood what she meant: the bread was placed on the peel, slid into the furnace, and baked in the fire.

“Yeah, that’s… that’s pretty cool.” he replied with a small smile.

Lovina silently agreed, and for a while, they stood together in quiet companionship. Gilbert wasn’t sure how much time passed, but at some point, he found himself watching her instead of the fire. Yet, as the seconds stretched on, something in her expression shifted—subtle, but noticeable. The energy in her demeanor softened, the eager spark in her eyes dimming just slightly as her gaze lingered on the fire, watching the dough darken and crisp.

He wondered what had caused the change… and considered asking, but the thought stalled before it could become words. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up—or if it was even his place to ask.

The silence between them deepened. Gilbert could see the thoughts turning behind her eyes, though he had no idea what they were. Then, at last, her lips parted, as if she wanted to speak but wasn’t sure how. A moment later, almost absentmindedly, she murmured: “My grandfather made bread for me and Feliciana like this… it was family tradition.”

Gilbert blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to say anything, but she did. Ah, he mused, so that’s what she meant by ‘like at home.’ It wasn’t just the oven that’d piqued her interest after all. It was something deeper. A tradition. A memory…

“He taught us how to use this…” she went on, her voice quieter now, as if she were speaking to herself. But she was speaking to him.

She didn’t move much, but her fingers curled slightly into the fabric of her dress. The firelight flickered in her hazel eyes, yet her mind was far away, lost in something heavier than the words she’d spoken. Thinking of her grandfather, her sister, and the memories that would never be more than memories. Because the man was gone.

Gilbert watched her, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t good at delicate conversations like this. He wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to say anything.

But then, just as suddenly as the moment had come, Lovina pulled herself out of it.

“Can we eat bread?” she asked, turning to him with a small smile. It wasn’t forced, but it wasn’t entirely free of sadness, either.

Gilbert wished he had thought of something to say before she changed the subject. Something to acknowledge what she was feeling, to offer comfort. But maybe this wasn’t the time to press…

He returned her smile and nodded. “Of course.”

With that, he got some of the fresh bread for them to eat, along with a few other things. Lovina wasn’t particularly thrilled with the roasted meat he’d bought—she barely touched it—but he supposed he should’ve expected that. He knew her tastes well enough by now.

As they ate, she told him how she’d never been in a tavern like this before. When she traveled with the Emperor to Spain, they had gone by sea, so this kind of setting was entirely new to her. That was why she found everything around her so fascinating. There were certainly aspects she didn’t care for—the food, for one—but she still seemed genuinely intrigued.

Gilbert, on the other hand, had been in more taverns than he could count, so the place itself wasn’t particularly interesting to him. But she was. The way she took in her surroundings, the way she spoke about everything with curiosity and skepticism too… he found it all surprisingly engaging. He kept his gaze fixed on her as she talked, nodding along even when her words didn’t entirely make sense. It didn’t matter. He still wanted to hear them.

Some time passed after they finished eating, and Lovina’s attention drifted away from the furnace to the piano in the corner of the room. The musician who had been playing earlier had left—perhaps tired or simply finished with his rounds—leaving the instrument untouched.

She had been eyeing it for the past few minutes before finally getting up and telling Gilbert she wanted to try playing something. Just for fun, nothing serious. Given that no one seemed to be paying much attention, and the tavern’s noise would likely drown out the sound, she figured she wouldn’t draw too many eyes.

Gilbert encouraged her, and off she went. He watched as she inspected the old piano, adjusting the stool before settling into place. She started by playing a few short notes, testing the keys, getting a feel for it. As she had guessed, the music barely carried through the bustling room, but that didn’t stop Gilbert from offering her an encouraging smile.

Before long, the Prussian moved away from his seat and made his way to the bar, positioning himself closer to the stage so he could both hear Lovina’s playing better and watch her more easily. As he leaned against the counter, his gaze fixed on the girl at the piano, a voice suddenly pulled his attention away:

“And what can I get you, sir?”

The bartender, standing across from him, slid an empty glass his way as he spoke—in German.

Gilbert blinked, momentarily caught off guard. A Spanish local speaking his native tongue, especially in a village this far from the capital, was unexpected. “You speak German?” he asked, his interest stirred. Then, after a brief pause, he added another, more pressing question: “And how’d you know I—” He trailed off, narrowing his eyes slightly.

The bartender chuckled. “I mean no offense, sir, but… just look at you.”

Gilbert considered that for a moment before nodding. Fair point. With his pale complexion, white hair, and sharp, foreign features, he hardly blended in with the locals, who were typically darker-haired and tanned.

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess,” he admitted, then gestured to the empty glass. “You’ve got any good beer?”

The bartender gave a firm nod. “Of course!” He grabbed the glass and turned to scan the assortment of spirits behind him. After a brief search, he found the jug he was looking for and poured the drink before sliding the filled glass back to Gilbert.

The albino accepted it, took a sip and then glanced back at the man. “You recognized that I was German?” he inquired.

The bartender gave a small tilt of his head. “Well, aside from the whole ‘a Germanic nobleman has arrived’ talk going around the tavern and hearing a fair bit of German from your group, you fit the type: facial structure, build.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Though honestly, if you had blond hair and maybe blue eyes, you’d have been an even bigger giveaway.”

“I see,” Gilbert replied, taking another sip of the Spanish beer in front of him. “You speak German pretty well,” he noted, offering the bartender a polite smile. “Took lessons or something?”

The Spaniard shook his head. “Ah, no, no lessons. I actually worked in the eastern part of the Germanic lands, the Prussian side, for three years. When you’re surrounded by a foreign language, you have no choice but to pick it up if you want to get the job done and understand your coworkers.”

Gilbert raised an eyebrow at that. “You worked in my—” He caught himself and cleared his throat. “In the German kingdom?”

The bartender nodded.

That gave the Prussian a moment’s pause. If this man had worked in Prussia, there was a chance he’d seen a portrait of him somewhere. Maybe he already knew who he was... Gilbert studied him over the rim of his glass, then furrowed his brow slightly before asking: “And did you ever see the King?”

"The King?" the other man echoed with a chuckle. “I was working in the countryside, not the capital, sir.” He laughed at the idea, then added with a grin, “But I suppose he’s some blond fellow with blue eyes, right?”

Blue eyes and blond hair… So, the bartender had no idea what the Prussian king (him) actually looked like. Gilbert let out a relieved sigh. Good. That meant his whole act of traveling incognito wasn’t about to fall apart.

Still… blond hair and blue eyes? That sounded more like his brother. Well, whatever. He supposed he was the odd one out—most Germans, especially Prussians, fit that stereotype.

He nodded and played along. “Ah, yeah. You could say he’s a very light shade of blond and has… some kind of blue in his eyes.”

The bartender grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Ah, I knew it!”

Gilbert chuckled. “Yup, you knew it.”

Sipping his beer a few more times, Gilbert’s thoughts drifted back to something the man had mentioned earlier—working in Prussia. He couldn’t help but ask, “So, you moved back to Spain, huh? Was Germany not up to standard?”

He meant it as a joke, but the bartender seemed to take it more seriously.

“Ah, no, not at all.” The man let out a nervous chuckle. “East Prussia’s well taken care of, and the work conditions were good—better than here, even.” He offered a small smile before adding, “But I realized I couldn’t stay there forever. I had nothing keeping me there, except financial stability…”

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. Nothing keeping him there? That ‘except financial stability’ seemed like a pretty solid reason to stay. What could be more important than that?

He leaned forward slightly. “Nothing keeping you there?” he pressed.

“Well, yeah!” the bartender replied simply, his expression open and sincere. “My wife is here.”

Gilbert wasn’t sure what answer he’d expected, but that one caught him off guard. Before he could react, however, the man continued.

“I kept thinking about her,” he said, his voice softer now, almost nostalgic. “How the distance between us was unbearable. Nearly a month of travel just for a week together—only to turn around and leave again. I couldn’t stand it.”

He absently shuffled a few empty glasses on the bar, but even distracted, his words held conviction. “I realized I didn’t want just a fraction of my life with her. I wanted all of it. Time isn’t endless, you know? And I don’t want to look back one day and regret the choices I made.”

He offered Gilbert another small smile, then gestured around the bar. “So, I took a risk. Left my job in Germany without knowing if I’d find something as good here. And it’s true, this job doesn’t pay as much. But in the end, it’s better. Because now, when I go home at night, instead of an empty house, I come back to her. And that… that makes the sacrifices worth it.”

There was no doubt in his voice, no hesitation. Just the certainty of a man who knew exactly what mattered most. And the look on his face… it told Gilbert more than words ever could.

Still, how quaint.

Gilbert couldn’t relate to any of it. More than that… he couldn’t understand it. He had never been in love. Oh, sure, he’d fancied a lady or two, but love? That was something else entirely…

Elizabeta claimed that love gave you “butterflies in your stomach.” Roderich insisted it made people impulsive, reckless, blind to consequences. Emma had once described it as something that made “your head spin,” while Antonio swore that, when you loved someone, you’d do anything for them…

Gilbert had never felt any of that.

So, of course, the idea of making sacrifices for someone, of giving up something certain for the mere hope of happiness, was completely foreign to him. Taking a risk for another person? Leaving behind security and stability just to be near them? It all seemed absurd.

And yet… as he studied the man before him, taking in the sincerity in his eyes and the quiet ease of his expression, he supposed it must be real. Some people really did believe in… or no, better said, experience, such things.

As the Prussian sat in contemplation, still mulling over the man’s words, the bartender suddenly turned to him with a knowing look, one he couldn’t quite decipher.

Uh? Why was he looking at him like that?

“But I suppose you, sir, know that sentiment,” the bartender mused, idly shifting a few more glasses around. “Like any man in love.”

Gilbert frowned. Like any man in love? He knew that sentiment? Where had that come from?

Letting out an awkward laugh, he quickly interjected, eager to clear up any misunderstanding. “Ah, no, I’m not—”

But the bartender cut him off before he could even explain. “No?” His brows lifted in genuine surprise. Then, as if to prove his point, he gestured across the room. “But I saw you and that young lady over there…”

Gilbert followed his gaze… straight to Lovina.

He stared, completely thrown. What in the world? Again? This was the second time someone had suggested that. He shook his head, trying to push the thought away. What even made this guy think that?

Before he could ask, however, the bartender answered for him.

“I saw the way you look at her.”

Something unfamiliar stirred in Gilbert at those words… similar to nervousness, but not quite…

The way I… look at her? His gaze drifted back to Lovina as she played a tune he could no longer focus on. The bartender’s remark lingered, and that strange feeling only grew stronger. What the hell…

Shaking himself out of it, he turned back to the other man with an awkward chuckle. “I don’t—haha—I don’t look at her in any way!” He waved a hand dismissively, as if that would put an end to it. “She’s just part of my… entourage.” He stuck with the same excuse he’d given the tavern owner earlier.

The bartender chuckled, eyeing him with an expression Gilbert couldn’t quite place. “Well then, sorry for the assumption…” He turned away, reaching for one of the jugs behind the counter. Then, almost as if speaking to himself—but just loud enough for Gilbert to hear—he added, “A man who falls in love for the first time is always oblivious…”

Before Gilbert could respond, the bartender had already moved on, tending to another customer who had just sat down. “It was nice talking to you, sir. I hope your travels are easy.”

The king tensed.

That last comment echoed in his head.

"A man who falls in love for the first time is always oblivious."

What was that supposed to mean? He wasn’t in love. What in the world…

He exhaled quietly, shoving the thought aside, and forced a smile. “Thanks. Nice talking to you too. Wish you and your wife good health.”

The bartender returned the smile before turning back to his work—unaware, or perhaps very aware, of the confusion he’d left behind.

Gilbert remained seated for a little while longer, fidgeting with the now empty glass in his hands, still turning over the bartender’s whispered remark in his mind. But no matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t make sense of it. What could have made the man think something so… untrue?

His gaze drifted back to Lovina, still in the not-so-distant corner of the room. She was fully engrossed in playing the piano, her expression focused, unaware of the way he was eyeing her in confusion. And there it was again… that strange feeling bubbling up inside him…

He almost brushed it off. Almost. But the thought lingered. Untrue…

…Wasn’t it?

Frustrated, he ran a hand down his face, trying to shake off the thoughts that were starting to feel like they were pressing in on him. It had to be the drink messing with him. What else could explain this sensation creeping up on him?

He glanced at Lovina again, letting out an audible sigh as the strange feeling lingered. He realized he needed a distraction—anything, really—to pull him away from whatever this was.

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he stood up and made his way toward her.

Navigating through the crowd, he stepped onto the small stage and paused just behind the girl. Now that he was closer, he could finally make out the melody she was playing.

And oddly enough, he recognized it.

Not because it was a song he knew… well, not exactly. But because it was that song…! The same tune she had played when he first met her, in that music room…

That somewhat melancholic yet beautiful melody…

For a moment, he simply watched, taking in the way her fingers moved over the keys, the quiet focus in her expression. Then, without thinking, he stepped closer, leaning slightly to get a better look.

“I know this song!” he blurted out.

Lovina’s hands froze over the keys as she turned to him in surprise.

Realizing he’d startled her, he quickly stepped back, raising his hands in apology. “Ah—no, don’t stop! Sorry for interrupting!” He gave a small, sheepish smile. “I just… I recognized it. It’s the same one you played when I walked in on you back then… in the music room.”

Lovina blinked, her expression unreadable at first. Then, as realization set in, she gave a small nod. Without a word, she gestured for him to come closer and resumed playing, her fingers gliding over the keys as she reached the familiar chorus.

When she finished, she glanced at him. “This one?”

Gilbert looked at her in wonder, then grinned. “Yup!”

She gave him another small nod and continued playing. Listening to it… Gilbert had to admit—it really was a beautiful song. A good distraction from his odd thoughts too. And once again, he found himself wondering how she could play something so intricate without sheet music...

“It’s impressive how you can play it without any sheet music,” he remarked, after mulling it over in his mind. “Did you memorize it?”

At that, Lovina’s hands stilled on the keys, and a brief silence followed. He noticed how her smile faded, her expression shifting into something more subdued… like she was thinking of something bittersweet.

“I did,” she said at last, her gaze distant. “It’s a piece my sister and I learned together… and it is hard to forget.” She let out a quiet breath and pressed a few keys again. “It reminds me of her.”

Once again, Gilbert found himself at a loss for words. Damn it. How did he keep bringing up things like this? He was no good at reading the room, and it showed…

“Ah… well…” He shifted slightly, searching for something—anything—to say. “You’ll be able to play with her again. Soon.” It wasn’t much, but he hoped it didn’t sound completely stupid. Managing a small, uncertain smile, he prayed his attempt at comfort wasn’t as awful as it felt.

Lovina looked up at him, a little surprised, before turning her gaze back to the piano. After a brief pause, she murmured: “I will…”

Gilbert considered saying something else, but before he could, she turned back to him and smiled—genuinely, warmly.

And for some reason, that smile made him feel dizzier than the alcohol ever had.

“Do you know how to play?” she suddenly asked, her eyes still bright as she watched him.

Upon hearing that, the king let out a soft chuckle. “Not really—hah, that’s more my cousin Roderich’s thing. I told you about him, right?” He paused for a moment, then added, “I do know a song or two, though. My old man was big on the whole ‘well-rounded education’ thing, but I can barely play…”

“Are they German pieces?” she asked, curios.

“Yeah.” He listed the two songs he could manage—not well, worse than not well, but not completely awful either, or so he figured. It had been years since he last touched a piano.

At the mention of the second song, Lovina turned to the piano and pressed a few keys. And would you look at that—she knew it too! And quite well at that. Gilbert was impressed, to say the least.

“That’s the one, yeah!” he said, giving her a small round of applause. “I didn’t know you knew German pieces.”

Lovina paused for a moment before turning to him with a proud grin. “I know a lot of pieces!” she declared, gesturing to herself as if to make it clear just how skilled she was. The Prussian had no room to argue.

Then, suddenly, her proud look shifted to something else, something that made it seem like she had an idea. Without another word, she stood up, her gaze sweeping the room. Spotting a few stools lined up against the wall, she strode over, grabbed one, and carried it back. Placing it beside the one she’d been sitting on, she seemed entirely focused on whatever plan she had in mind. The albino glanced at her in confusion, unsure of what she was up to.

It wasn’t until she sat down and gestured toward the empty stool beside her that he realized what she wanted.

“Play with me!” she said, her tone light and eager.

Gilbert merely stared at her in disbelief. “Me? But I can barely play…” he mumbled, feeling awkward under her eager gaze.

Lovina pouted at his response, her brows knitting together in a way that made it clear she wasn’t backing down. She motioned toward the empty seat beside her with renewed determination.

“That does not matter!” she insisted, her voice firm. But then, her expression softened, and she tilted her head slightly. “I will help you.”

Gilbert hesitated, looking at her for a moment before glancing around the crowded tavern. The place was bustling, filled with people. If anyone paid attention, he’d look ridiculous. But then again, the way Lovina was looking at him, so certain and expectant, made him forget about all that…

Before he even fully processed it, he found himself giving in.

“Well… if you say you’ll help…” he muttered, settling onto the stool beside her. His fingers hovered nervously over the piano keys on his side, trying to recall the sounds they made from years ago when he last played. “I guess there’s no harm in me… trying.” He let out a nervous chuckle.

Lovina responded with a small noise of triumph, clearly pleased with his decision.

For a few minutes, the Prussian simply pressed the keys, reacquainting himself with their sounds and trying to get a feel for playing again after years away from the instrument. He was clumsy at best.

The italian girl watched him in silence as he fumbled through his test runs. Eventually, he exhaled and said: “Okay, I think I’m good to go.”

Not that ‘good to go’ was the right phrase… He still sucked. But since she’d promised to help, he supposed that was good enough…

She nodded at his words before turning to her side of the piano. Placing her hands over the keys, she began the song—but at a much slower pace. Probably to help him out.

Soon enough, his part came in. He focused, trying not to mess up as he played slowly, keeping his pace in line with hers. Even so, he hit the wrong key and stopped, testing a few others to find the right one, but none sounded quite right.

Lovina turned to him and pointed at the correct key. Ah, that one.

With that, they pressed on. Gilbert knew he was terrible at this—there was no denying it—and he felt like he was dragging her down. But the way Lovina smiled at him, so pleased that he was playing along, made him push through. Even if his best was… well, far from impressive.

At least he didn’t mess up any more notes. The tune was starting to sound decent, and now, it was even more noticeable. The noise around them, the loud chatter, it had all faded into stillness. He supposed it was just his concentration, his focus on keeping up with Lovina that had tuned everything else out. But still… it was strangely quiet now.

And that feeling in his chest, the one he’d experienced more times than he could count, returned. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what to make of it, but playing like this… just the two of them, was surprisingly… nice. Really nice.

When they reached the end of the German piece, their hands moving in sync over the final notes, Gilbert felt rather proud that he’d actually managed to do this, and see it through. He wasn’t much of a player, and he didn’t even like the piano all that much… but somehow, that feeling hadn’t been there this time. As the last sound faded, he realized he was starting to get a better grip on the whole thing. Who knew… if he actually practiced, maybe he could even outdo his cousin someday. Oh, he’d definitely rub it in his face.

As they lifted their hands from the keys, he finally turned to look at her. Until now, he’d been too focused on not messing up to really see her, but now that the song was over, he was free to take in her bright, pleased expression. That warm feeling swelled in his chest, stronger than before…

And that odd silence? It was even more noticeable now. It felt… too real. Strange, considering he wasn’t concentrated on playing anymore...

Then, suddenly, that silence shattered.

A loud and obvious sound filled the room… applause.

Uh—huh?!

A strained, confused sound escaped him as he turned to scan the room. The people who had been so absorbed in their own conversations just moments ago were now—all of them—focused on him and Lovina. And apparently, they were applauding too.

Wait… they had been watching them this whole time?

Oh.

So the silence he’d thought he imagined… wasn’t imagined at all.

Damn.

He blinked, his gaze shifting to his own court members scattered around the tavern. They, too, were clapping and cheering them on. Well, that was… awkward.

Had they never seen a duet before? And why now, of all times, had all these people decided to pay attention? It wasn’t even a good performance! He’d played horribly! Lovina had carried the whole song!

Oof.

His confidence—no, let’s be real, his ego—took a solid hit. He liked being seen as someone who excelled at everything, and now, well… that illusion had been thoroughly shattered.

Lovina, on the other hand, looked just as surprised by the attention but also… pleased. Well, of course she was. She actually deserved the praise.

Gilbert got up, waving his hands in an exaggerated gesture toward her. “All praise goes to the lady, haha! She can actually play…!” he said, hoping to shift the focus away from himself, and justify his less-than-stellar performance.

Lovina snickered at his reaction, clearly amused, before turning back to the piano. Without missing a beat, she shifted on the stool and launched into a faster, more difficult tune—a Spanish one, most likely. And, of course, she played it beautifully.

Taking that as his cue to escape, Gilbert stepped off the stage and settled beside a few members of his court, who were still watching him as if he were standing under the lights. One of them leaned in and whispered encouragingly: “You played very well, Your Majesty!”

Gilbert scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t. Just don’t.” His ego was already bruised enough.

Still… as he watched Lovina play, just as entranced as everyone else around him, he had to admit, he’d actually enjoyed it. More than he would have thought. His eyes remained on her, watching, observing. Yeah, despite how badly he’d played, despite making a fool of himself in front of a crowd… he’d do it again.

Because… well, it had been awfully nice.

And he smiled at her, even if she didn’t notice.

It wasn’t long before Lovina decided she’d had enough of playing the piano and called it a night. She was met with praise in Spanish, German, and English, basking in the attention before making her way to Gilbert. Letting him know she was heading upstairs, she left, and he figured he might as well turn in too—they had another early departure in the morning. Advising his court to do the same, he followed Lovina upstairs.

He wished her a good night and waited until she was safely inside her room before heading to his own. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside and shut it tightly behind him. With a tired sigh, he stripped off a few layers, kicked off his boots, and collapsed onto his back on the bed.

The road had left him weary, but what truly occupied his thoughts was Lovina. The way he felt around her… off balance, somehow. The innkeeper’s words, the bartender’s remarks… He just couldn’t make sense of it. Maybe that’s why he felt so confused…

Love. He scoffed at the bartender’s suggestion. Yeah, right.

He entertained the thought for a moment, amused by the absurdity. Lovina was his friend. Just like Emma. That was all. These strange feelings? Probably just the awkwardness of a new friendship. They’d only known each other for a month, after all. That’s how friendships worked in the beginning, right? A little clumsy, a little uncertain…

Yes. That had to be it.

He was so caught up in convincing himself that these odd feelings were nothing more than awkwardness that he didn’t hear the abrupt knock on his door at first. It wasn’t until it became more insistent, louder and more constant, that he finally registered it. Blinking out of his thoughts, he pushed himself up, raising a brow as he stared at the closed door.

Huh? Who could that be?

With a sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, making his way toward the door. He really hoped it wasn’t his advisers… he wasn’t in the mood for anything that required too much thinking right now. As he reached for the handle, he was already preparing an excuse to turn them away.

But when he pulled the door open, he found himself face-to-face with…

“Uh… Lovina?”

The name left his lips before his mind had a chance to catch up.

She stood there, already dressed in night attire, a purple shawl draped over her arms. He blinked at her before quickly looking away, unsure where to rest his gaze. It wasn’t exactly proper to see a lady in such clothing.

“Uh—everything alright? Is your room okay?” he asked, still avoiding her eyes.

He had no idea why she was here. But it had to be important. Right? Why else would she come to him, not exactly in the middle of the night, but late enough?

At his questions, she shook her head. He caught the movement from the corner of his eye.

“No, I just need to say something to you…” she murmured, her gaze falling to the floor. There was a look on her face he couldn’t quite place. Shyness? Hesitation, maybe?

That was enough to make him turn his head fully, propriety momentarily forgotten. His brow lifted in surprise. “To me?”

She nodded before asking: “Can I come in? Just for one minute?”

Under normal circumstances, he might have hesitated, given the late hour, and the matter of decency... but right now, he was more concerned with why she needed to speak to him.

“…Alright.” He stepped aside, letting her in.

Once they were both inside with the door firmly shut, Lovina sat on the bed and gestured for him to do the same. Without any questions, he sat beside her.

For a moment, silence hung between them, so brief that Gilbert didn’t even have time to wonder what she wanted to say before she spoke up.

“I have… wanted to tell you something today…” She paused, as if searching for the right words. Gilbert tilted his head slightly, curious.

“Not just today, actually,” she corrected herself. “But… ever since you told me about… taking me to my sister…”

That caught him off guard. He turned to her, brow raised in surprise. Since then? That was days ago. Had she really been holding onto this all this time? What had stopped her from saying it sooner? And what exactly was it?

Before he could dwell on the thought, she continued.

“I tried to say it this morning… in the carriage, but I got…” She hesitated, as if the right word had slipped through her fingers, before murmuring. “Esitante…” (hesitant)

“Hesitant?” Gilbert echoed, switching the Italian word to English.

“Ah, yes!” she nodded quickly. “Hesitant.”

His gaze lingered on her face. She looked flustered… almost nervous?

“What do you want to tell me..?” he asked at last.

At that, she met his gaze, her hazel eyes locking onto his as if probing his very soul... or so it felt. Shifting on the bed to face him completely, she paused briefly before softly admitting:

"Gilbert, I want to… thank you."

"Thank me?" the man mused. "For...?" he began, but she quickly elaborated.

"I want to thank you for everything... for this." She gestured vaguely around them, as if the very space held significance. “You are the only person who has ever done something like this for me… the only one that… was willing… to take me to Feliciana.”

She said it with such sincerity, her expression so open, so genuine, that Gilbert could almost feel his heart falter—an unsteady, rapid beat that hadn’t been there a moment ago, yet felt strangely familiar, as if it had echoed earlier that day… (Because it had.)

“So…” she added, her eyes narrowing just a bit, brows drawing together as if gathering her courage. “Grazie, Gilbert. Per tutto.” (Thank you, Gilbert. For everything.)

And then, before he could react, before he could even think, she leaned in and… kissed him…

(On the cheek.)

But still.

She pulled away just as quickly, blinking at him, looking almost as startled by her own actions as he was. Gilbert, meanwhile, sat frozen, stiff as a board, shocked to his very core.

“That is all…!” she blurted, her voice flustered, avoiding his gaze entirely.

Then, before he could even process what had happened, she jumped to her feet and hurried to the door. Just as she was about to slip out, she turned back briefly, her voice soft but clear enough for him to catch:

"Buona notte…!" (Good night…!)

And with that, she was gone, the soft click of the door the only thing breaking the stunned silence she left in her wake.

Gilbert remained frozen in place, sitting stiffly on the bed, just as shocked as before, if not more so.

His mind, his body… nothing felt right. He felt… what? He didn’t even know. His heart was hammering in his chest, wild and erratic, and his thoughts spun like he’d downed not one glass of liquor, but five.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he lifted a hand to his face… his cheek, the very spot Lovina had just… kissed. His fingers brushed against his skin, and… what the hell, it was burning…

He sat there for several long moments, completely dazed, before finally collapsing onto his back, eyes staring blankly at the rust-streaked ceiling. His heart still pounded, his face still burned, and suddenly, a thought crept into his mind…

Had he ever felt this way in any of his other friendships before?

He searched his memories, and when the answer came—no, never—another thought followed, one he wasn’t sure what to make of.

That bartender… he had told him:

"A man who falls in love for the first time is always oblivious."

And suddenly, those words didn’t seem so absurd anymore. But he refused to dwell on them. It made no sense. He had already decided that whatever he was feeling was nothing more than the awkwardness of a new… he was reluctant to even call it this… friendship…

Oof…

This was too strange and unfamiliar. With a frustrated huff, he turned onto his side, shut his eyes, and willed himself to sleep, hoping it would all dissipate by morning…

Yet… little did he know that thoughts like these don’t fade so easily.

Chapter Text

Gilbert spent the entire night turning the situation with Lovina over in his mind—the innkeeper’s words, the bartender’s remarks, even what his peers had once described as love. He kept trying to reason with himself, to either justify or suppress the strange feelings her presence stirred in him. Over and over, he returned to the same line of thought: this was just a new friendship, nothing more. It made sense to feel a little embarrassed, a bit awkward, maybe even nervous. Those emotions were normal. Familiar. Exactly what he was feeling—or so he kept insisting.

Eventually, worn down by the mental tug-of-war, he drifted off sometime in the small hours. Just as well. Morning would come quickly, and he’d need whatever rest he could get.

And sure enough, it wasn’t long before it did.

As with the day before, Gilbert was supposed to rise before the sun had fully crested the horizon. But this morning was different—he hadn’t managed to wake on his own, not after spending most of the night wide awake, tangled in thought. Not a great job, Gilbert. It took at least a dozen knocks at his door before he even stirred. Thankfully, the persistent thudding, paired with the firm but polite voices urging him to get a move on, eventually did the trick.

Dragging himself out of bed, he let out what might’ve been the longest sigh of his life. He was exhausted—too drained to function, like his body had surrendered before the day had even begun. Worse still, his mind remained tangled in all the wrong things. Thoughts spun in every direction, impossible to catch, let alone make sense of. And if there was one thing Gilbert couldn’t stand, it was when things felt messy…

The young king let out another sigh, softer this time, as his eyes wandered to the door—though only after a few long seconds of staring blankly into space. Judging by the way it rattled with each knock, it sounded like it might fly off its hinges at any moment. His gaze shifted next to the other side of the bed—the side he hadn’t used—where his cloak, belt, and a few other layers lay neatly folded, just as he’d left them the night before. His boots sat nearby as well, all waiting to be put on for the journey ahead.

Not that he was entirely undressed. He’d fallen asleep mostly clothed, save for a few outer layers. Still, that worked in his favor—being halfway ready meant he could finish dressing much faster.

So, instead of opening the door right away to assure his advisers that yes, he was alive and awake, he chose to get dressed first. That way, when they finally laid eyes on him, he could spare himself the inevitable fussing: “Your Majesty! We are to leave this instant and you are not yet dressed!” and whatever other complaints he didn’t have the energy to deal with right now.

With that thought in mind, he finally shook himself into motion. He slipped on the remaining layers, fastened his belt, pulled on his boots, and clasped his cloak at the front, letting it fall neatly over one shoulder. On his way out, he paused at the washroom to splash cold water on his face, hoping it might chase off the lingering fog in his head. He ran a damp hand through his hair, trying—without much success—to flatten the stubborn parts sticking out in every direction.

And with that out of the way, Gilbert finally approached the door—which, even now, hadn’t fallen quiet. He let out another small sigh, turned the key, pulled it free, and opened the door.

As expected, he came face-to-face with his wary advisers, who fell silent the instant they saw him. Now they stood in the hallway, watching him with expressions both anxious and alert. The quiet, however, was short-lived.

“Your Majesty,” one of them finally said, his voice tinged with concern. “Are you well? You’ve been locked in for quite some time. We are to depart at once—the horses are hitched, the carriages are ready, and everyone is already aboard. We feared something had happened, given that Your Majesty had yet to vacate your chambers.”

His eyes briefly scanned Gilbert from head to toe, double-checking that nothing was amiss. Once satisfied, he let out a quiet, relieved breath.

The Prussian offered a sheepish chuckle. “Ah, my bad. I just had some trouble sleeping last night, and that’s why—”

But before he could finish, another adviser interjected.

“Trouble sleeping?” the man cut in, his brows knitting together. “And here I insisted you be given the finest room…” He leaned past Gilbert to glance into the chamber, only to find a plain, unremarkable bed. With an exaggerated sigh, he shook his head. “Of course it wasn’t... What was I thinking? Tonight, we’ll be stopping in a far more civilized part of the Spanish countryside, no doubt!”

“Ah—no, no, it’s not that!” Gilbert said quickly, raising a hand to stop the assumptions. “The bed was fine. I just… I don’t know. I couldn’t stop thinking.”

“Thinking, Your Majesty?” the same adviser asked, raising a skeptical brow. The others grew curious as well, exchanging glances before turning their attention back to their king. “About what, if I may ask?”

It was only when the question was actually posed that Gilbert realized he didn’t actually want to share what had truly kept him up. For one, he couldn’t make sense of it himself—so how could they? And even if he tried, his advisers might misunderstand, twist his words, react poorly. He had no interest in offering explanations he didn’t have, nor defending feelings he barely understood. He was tired. Too tired for that.

So, like anyone caught in that sort of situation, he reached for the nearest excuse.

“I was just thinking about the road ahead… and the possibility of snow catching us while we’re still traveling…” he said, landing on the most convenient concern he could muster. A small, nervous laugh followed—an attempt to lend the lie some sincerity.

His advisers exchanged another round of thoughtful looks before one of them responded. “Do not worry, Your Majesty. It is still autumn. There have been early snows in November, yes, but rarely. If we keep to schedule, we’ll reach our destination by early December. We may only encounter snow upon entering Switzerland—if even then.”

The tone was meant to reassure him.

Gilbert nodded, forcing a flicker of relief onto his face. “I suppose you’re right.”

But in truth, his worries hadn’t eased—because they’d never been about the weather in the first place. He already knew all of that. What gnawed at him was something else entirely: an internal, persistent conflict he just couldn’t make sense of…

The advisers seemed pleased to see their king in better spirits—or at least, he looked like he was in better spirits on the outside. In truth, not much had changed internally. Still, appearances were enough for now. That relief, however, was short-lived, as they quickly remembered they were behind schedule.

“Ah—but we must move at once!” one of them exclaimed, gesturing for their king to step out into the hall.

“Oh—right…” Gilbert muttered, only just remembering they were already meant to be on their way. He stepped out and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“Make haste now, Your Majesty!” another adviser urged as they all hurried down the hallway, descended the stairs, and crossed the tavern’s lounge. Gilbert paused just long enough to return the key to the innkeeper and offer a quick word of thanks for the night's stay before he was swept along once more.

Outside, the advisers wasted no time ushering him toward his carriage, pressing him to hurry: “We’re already behind schedule!” one of them reminded him, as if he hadn’t heard it twice already. The sun was beginning to rise, and they were meant to be on the road well before then.

Gilbert climbed in with a bit too much haste, nearly stumbling into his seat as the door was shut behind him. The advisers quickly scattered to their own carriage, and within moments, the not-so-small convoy was ready to depart.

The Prussian sat slightly disoriented, still feeling the effects of their hasty departure. His thoughts had been so tangled that he’d almost forgotten he wasn’t traveling alone. Almost—because he hadn’t actually forgotten. Not really.

So when his eyes landed on his travel companion, Lovina, watching him with furrowed brows and a confused expression, it was like being yanked right back into the same spiral of thoughts that had kept him up the night before.

Uh oh. Bad thing…

It wasn’t until she spoke that he snapped out of it.

“Stai bene?” she first asked in Italian, the words simple enough for him to catch. Then she repeated in English. “Are you okay?”

That same furrowed look lingered on her face, and for a moment, he caught himself just… staring. Then he quickly looked away, unsure how to silence the chaos still churning in his head.

“Me?” he finally replied, letting out an awkward laugh. “Oh—yeah, totally!” He forced a smile that probably looked more strained than sincere. “What makes you say that?”

Lovina didn’t answer right away. She studied him with a skeptical look, like a puzzle she wasn’t sure she even wanted to solve. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she let out a quiet sigh.

“You did not wake up on time.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong. That much was true—and maybe it gave her a glimpse that something wasn’t quite right with him. But why burden her with the rest of it? Why admit he couldn’t make sense of his own thoughts? Worse still, if he even tried, she’d probably just think he was weird…

And that, more than anything, was the last thing he wanted.

So, no. He wasn’t about to tell her the truth either.

With as much effort as his tired, foggy mind could muster, Gilbert kept a smile on his face, hoping it looked at least somewhat genuine. After a beat, he gave her the same excuse he’d fed his advisers earlier—well, most of it. He left out the part about snow. No need to make her worry about that. She just needed to focus on the fact that she’d be seeing her sister again soon.

“Yeah, I know… It’s just… the road wore me out, I guess. Ended up oversleeping, haha…”

Lovina watched him quietly, her gaze steady and unreadable. For a moment, he worried she might see straight through him. But then, after a long pause, she gave a small nod. It seemed she believed him.

Oh, thank God.

“If you are tired, you should sleep now.” she said, tilting her head slightly toward the long seat beside him.

Then she blinked. Calm, deliberate blinks with those eyes of hers that he just… couldn’t—

Nope. He stopped the thought right there.

Or at least, he tried to. Because somehow, even that small, casual gesture made his mind spiral. His pulse jumped, not out of nervousness or excitement, but in that weird, muddled way it did when adrenaline hit for no reason. Not a rush. Just the aftermath. Dizzy and frustrating.

Get a grip, Gilbert! he shouted inwardly. He wanted to slap himself but refrained, mostly because he didn’t want to look like a lunatic in front of Lovina. Unfortunately, that ruled out the most effective option…

God, he groaned silently. You were so normal yesterday morning… what the hell happened?

(He was not, in fact, “normal” yesterday morning either. But only now, after certain third parties had decided to say things out loud, was he starting to actually face the weird, fluttering feelings he’d kept ignoring. Now that they’d been dragged into the light and left sitting awkwardly on the table, staring back at him.)

He stayed quiet a while longer, just… looking at her. His expression, whatever it was, probably landed somewhere between dazed and confused. Not that he could see it, thankfully. Eventually, he snapped out of it. He needed to respond. Do something. Not just sit there gawking like this was the first time he’d seen her.

In a sudden, almost desperate burst of determination, he decided: he’d take her advice. Sleep in the carriage. Or at least pretend to. Maybe, with his eyes shut, he could finally think straight. Maybe even come to a conclusion! Or better yet, a solution.

Because that’s what he needed right now.

A damn solution.

“You know what?” he said, letting out a short, slightly forced chuckle. “I just might do that. What an awesome idea, Lovina!”

The Italian girl snorted, a clear sign she found her advice more obvious than awesome. Without bothering to reply, she turned away, reached into the carriage’s storage compartment, and pulled out a book, something she must’ve brought from the Spanish castle. She flipped it open, clearly intending to spend the trip buried in its pages.

Gilbert took the hint and got comfortable. He didn’t exactly lie down, but shifted until he was half-sprawled across the long seat, slouched in a way that passed for relaxed. He shut his eyes, pretending to sleep.

But really, his brain was already kicking into overdrive. Thinking. Overthinking. Spiraling.

And maybe (emphasis on ‘maybe’) if the universe was feeling generous, he’d come out of it with a few actual answers.

But just as his thoughts began to gather… he realised that…

Oh, damn. He hadn’t had breakfast.

…What a bummer.

An hour or so passed with poor Gilbert doing exactly what he’d set out to do: think. Endlessly.

He mulled over every thought that had plagued him the night before, now only growing more irritated by their number, and by the fact that none of them had any real answers. Still, he tried to sort them out in his mind, lining them up from what felt most important to what could be pushed aside, and tried to assign each one a fitting explanation. Or rather, an excuse. A justification. Anything but the truth. Especially when it came to those… feelings. (Though he wasn’t sure that was the right word… more like… sensations, perhaps? Honestly, even he didn’t know.)

By the second hour, he had, more or less, managed to slap a label on each of them. “Awkwardness,” he told himself. “Just nerves.” Maybe he’d been thrown off by the strange remarks at that tavern. Maybe he was just startled, surprised that anyone would even suggest such a thing. Maybe, just maybe, he’d imagined it all. After all, it was cold. They had been traveling a lot. His body was tired. His mind was a mess. Surely that explained everything, right?

Like any ‘normal’ person, he managed to convince himself those were the answers. And not just for that day, but for the rest of the journey as well. Day after day, he stuck to those reasons like a knight to his sword, carrying them with him as they rode further and further: through quiet valleys, past thick forests, and beyond the Spanish lands entirely. They crossed into France, skirting its eastern border before arriving in Lyon. Thankfully, no snow had caught up with them yet, and the roads remained smooth. They paused here and there at inns, restaurants, and tiny villages that offered warm meals and even warmer beds. And still, his excuses held strong.

Well… until they didn’t.

It happened in a small marketplace nestled in a quiet French village near the Swiss border. Midday sunlight spilled across the cobblestone streets as they paused for a brief rest. With Switzerland just ahead, and both his attendants and advisers showing interest in the area, Gilbert figured they might as well stop for an hour or so. They were still on schedule, three weeks into the journey, and a short break in the daylight wouldn’t hurt.

The village had its own sort of charm: quiet, yet lively in a gentle, unhurried way. Vendors lined the streets, offering street food, trinkets, and handcrafted goods. Gilbert found himself quietly impressed—somehow, even the smallest French villages managed to make everything look appealing.

But then again… that was just a French thing, wasn’t it?

His court quickly scattered through the marketplace, picking up snacks or drinks, browsing for souvenirs, little tokens to show their families back in Germany as proof they'd passed through France.

Lovina stepped down from the carriage as well, casting a glance around the market with an expression that could only be described as disinterested. At least, until her eyes landed on a stall filled with French books. That changed things.

She’d already finished the Spanish one she’d brought along, so maybe she was simply looking for something new to read. French wouldn’t be a challenge, (she spoke it fluently) and Gilbert could already guess what she was thinking, even before she turned to him.

“I will check out the bookstall!” she said.

He gave a small nod and a smile. And off she went, her handmaid quietly falling into step behind her.

Gilbert lingered by the carriages for a little while as the rest of the group dispersed into the marketplace. He didn’t mind just standing there, taking in the crowd and the atmosphere—but there wasn’t much to do next to a bunch of parked carriages. His court would no doubt take their time browsing the stalls, and Lovina seemed occupied, so after a few idle moments, he wandered off as well.

He stopped by a few drink stalls along the way and eventually bought himself a small cup of mulled French wine. It felt appropriate. You couldn’t exactly pass through France without drinking wine, not in the country that supposedly produced the finest in the world. At least, that’s what Francis always claimed.

The thought made him pause mid-sip. It really was a bit of a shame that he hadn’t managed to see Francis on the way to Austria. That would’ve been fun. Francis was always fun. But—priorities. Right now, his focus was Lovina. He needed to get her to her sister. And truthfully, he was close, very close, to doing just that.

With that in mind, he continued strolling through the marketplace, wine in hand, passing stall after stall. Most didn’t catch his interest, especially the ones selling accessories. He passed one with belts, another with sword holders, and then one displaying women’s headpieces. Those, in particular, held no appeal. Simple strips of colored fabric, with no jewels or pearls, nothing extravagant. Definitely not his kind of thing. Not that he had anyone to buy something like that for anyway. Most of the women he knew were high-ranking royals or something close to it, and items this plain didn’t exactly scream “appropriate gift” for people of that standing. (Not that any of the women he knew would turn down such a gift, they were all good people… but still, propriety!)

So, he walked right past without giving the display more than a glance.

But just as he did, the merchant behind the stall called out to him, clearly having noticed him in particular. Not surprising, really. With that white hair of his, Gilbert wasn’t exactly easy to miss.

“Sir, sir! Please take a look at what’s new in fashion for girls all around France! For your lady friends!”

The man’s voice was thick with a French accent, his English slightly broken, but understandable. He offered a warm, hopeful smile and gestured toward the headpieces.

Gilbert paused mid-step, glancing back at the man. For a moment, he considered just moving on or pretending he hadn’t understood a word. But the vendor looked friendly enough, clearly just trying to make an honest sale. And well… what would it hurt to humor him for a moment?

“Ah, well, sure—why not.” Gilbert said, turning back and stepping up to the display.

The merchant looked quite pleased to have caught his attention. That warm, welcoming expression, one most merchants wore when speaking with customers, never left his face. He smiled politely, and the Prussian gave a short nod in return.

“Sir,” the man began cheerfully, “got any lady friends you’d like to buy a gift for? Or maybe a fiancée? A wife?”

Gilbert let out a soft chuckle, amused by the man’s eager tone. “Not really,” he replied with a casual shake of his head. “Just browsing.”

“Well, sir,” the merchant continued, undeterred, “if you do have a particular lady in mind, a headpiece like this would truly make her happy!” He gestured broadly to the display in front of him, as though presenting something far grander than a few strips of fabric. “Young women in villages across the country have made these quite the fashion trend. It’s their way of keeping up with the noblewomen in the cities who wear jewels and pearls in their hair. Since they can’t afford such luxuries, they wear these instead.”

He gave a fond chuckle, clearly pleased with the thought. Then, after a brief pause, his gaze returned to Gilbert with a touch more curiosity.

“But… forgive me if I’m wrong,” he said, head tilting slightly, “you are a nobleman, aren’t you?”

From the look of Gilbert’s fine attire and the carriages he’d arrived in, the question was more rhetorical than anything else.

Gilbert gave a firm nod. “Oh, yeah. I am.”

“Ah, then I suppose your lady friends may not be all that interested in the trends of the less prestigious parts of the world.” the man noted, without malice, just stating what seemed to him a fact.

The Prussian didn’t know quite what to say to that. The man wasn’t exactly wrong.

But the merchant didn’t wait for an answer.

“Even so,” he continued, “I’d say a gift like this could still bring happiness to any kind of lady. It may be simple, yes, but that’s what makes it meaningful. It shows your intentions weren’t to impress or flatter, but that you genuinely thought of her when you saw it. That you gave it from the heart, with sincerity. And women…” He laughed softly. “Well, they’re sharp like that. They can always tell.”

With that, he offered Gilbert another kind smile, the type that made it hard not to at least consider his words…

And that’s more or less what Gilbert did. He stood there for a moment, eyes on the merchant, quietly mulling over his words without even realizing it. True intentions… gave it from the heart… That stuck with him.

But did he actually have anyone to give something like this to?

As his gaze drifted toward the display, scanning the rows of fabric headpieces in various colors, one in particular caught his eye—a deep, dark red one. And almost instinctively, a certain woman came to mind.

Lovina.

She was the only female friend of his traveling with him at the moment, after all. Still… would someone like her, a girl of noble standing, even want something so plain? It was just a strip of cloth, really—no jewels, no fine embroidery. Not exactly the kind of thing you'd picture in her hair… But then again, hadn’t the merchant just said something about intentions? About how women could tell when a gift was sincere?

Maybe that mattered more than the gift itself.

And maybe… this could reinforce the friendship between them. He’d been thinking about that a lot lately, hadn’t he? What friendship really meant… and why it felt so different with her compared to Emma or Elizabeta. Why he had these emotions he hadn’t felt before. His thoughts had been running in circles on that subject for days now, and… well, maybe this simple gesture would help settle things a bit. Better than just pacing around in his head, anyway.

Yup, overthinking it wouldn’t help.

With that settled, Gilbert glanced back at the merchant, then again at the red headpiece. At last, he made up his mind.

You know what? Sure. He’d get it for Lovina. Not because it was fancy, or impressive, but because he meant it. Because it showed how much he valued her as a friend. And if what the merchant said was true, if women could tell when a gift came from the heart, then Lovina would know exactly what he meant by it.

Brilliant idea. Honestly, he should pat himself on the back—what a thoughtful, heartfelt, genius move on his part.

But enough congratulating himself! He had to actually buy the thing now.

With his mind now officially made up, a sharp contrast to when he’d first approached the stand with no intention of buying anything, it was clear the merchant’s pitch had done its job. Gilbert gestured to the dark red headpiece he’d been eyeing.

“How much for this one?”

“Just three copper coins, monsieur.”

Gilbert rummaged through his satchel, fingers brushing past silver and gold until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out the coins and handed them over, which the merchant accepted with a bright smile. Without missing a beat, the man tucked the headpiece neatly into a small white box and offered it to the Prussian with a slight bow.

Gilbert took the box and gave a quick, polite nod. “Thanks.”

He turned the box over in his hand once, examining it briefly before shifting his gaze toward the crowd, trying to spot the one person he’d bought it for.

Apparently, the merchant was just as curious.
“If you don’t mind me asking, sir,” the man said, leaning slightly over his stand with genuine interest, “who’s the lucky lady?”

Gilbert was just about to answer, his eyes scanning the marketplace for Lovina—but she was no longer at the bookstall where he’d last seen her…

Before he could take a step, however, he felt a light tap on his shoulder...

Turning around, he half-expected one of his court members. That would’ve made the most sense. But instead—

Well, speak of the devil.

There she was.

Lovina stood right in front of him, a book clutched in her hands. The title, written in French, was unreadable to him, but he hardly noticed—he was too caught off guard by her sudden appearance. He’d been just looking for her, and now here she was, finding him. If that wasn’t a sign that the universe was on his side when it came to their friendship, he didn’t know what was.

“Ah—Lovina!” he said, smiling as he straightened up a little. “Did you find a book you like?” He glanced down at the one in her hands.

The merchant, catching the moment, turned his attention back to his stand, not wanting to intrude. Still, like anyone standing within earshot of a conversation, he couldn’t help but listen in…

Lovina nodded at his question. “Mhm!” she replied, lifting the book slightly to show him the cover. It was a deep blue, with the title printed in bright yellow ink—he couldn’t make out what it said, but judging by the look on her face, he guessed it was probably a story she was excited to read.

“Looks nice!” he said, giving it a quick glance before his gaze shifted to her expression. There was a hint of contentment on her face… something calm, almost happy. His eyes lingered there longer than they should’ve, and for a brief moment, he completely forgot why he’d even been looking for her in the first place.

But then, just as quickly, he remembered.

Right! The box.

Clearing his throat, Gilbert raised the small white package he’d been holding and extended it toward her. Lovina, spotting the sudden movement, shifted her book into one hand and held it close to her chest. Her gaze dropped to the box, and her brow arched slightly in confusion.

Yet, before she could ask anything, Gilbert spoke up. “I got this for you.” he said, his voice carrying a note of hesitation that annoyed him the second it left his mouth.

“For me?” she repeated, eyes flicking from the box to his face, clearly surprised.

He cleared his throat again, adjusting his stance a little as if to shake off the awkwardness. “Yeah, uh—it’s nothing fancy or anything. Just, you know…”

Lovina gave him a puzzled look, maybe even a bit skeptical, then handed her book off to her handmaid without a word. With both hands now free, she took the box from his, raising a brow as she studied it.

The Prussian stayed quiet, watching expectantly as Lovina slowly opened the box. She reached inside and pulled out the dark red headpiece he’d just bought, pausing to stare at it for a moment. At first, she seemed unsure of what she was looking at. Then, turning it over in her hand, she narrowed her eyes and examined it more closely.

“A… piece of fabric?” she asked bluntly, giving him a confused look.

Well. That was not the reaction he’d hoped for.
Clearly, she wasn’t a fan. Maybe his first instinct had been right after all… when he’d figured something so simple wouldn’t suit someone of her status. He let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck and waving a hand as if to downplay it.

“Oh, uh—it’s a headpiece. Y’know, for your hair. But—! You don’t have to wear it or anything!” he added quickly. “I just… I thought about you when I saw it, and I figured the color would suit you. But if it’s not your thing, you can give it away or—”

He started to explain but trailed off when her expression suddenly shifted. The confusion faded, replaced by something else. Surprise, maybe? Or… was she flustered? He couldn’t tell. And he definitely didn’t know whether that was a good or bad sign.

Before he could overthink it, however, Lovina looked up at him. And her eyes were… wide.

“You… thought about me when buying this?”

Her voice was softer than before, but there was something in it, something he couldn’t name. Well… whatever it was, it certainly caught him off guard…

For a second, it felt like he’d completely forgotten how to speak. Still, somehow, he managed to get a response out, clumsy as it was.

“Uh… yeah?”

Lovina’s eyes dropped back to the headpiece, her fingers brushing over the fabric. For a moment, Gilbert wasn’t sure what to make of her expression. Was her face… a little pinker? Maybe. Or maybe not. It was hard to tell. Either way, a sinking feeling settled in his stomach.
Was she offended? Maybe she thought he was saying something cheap reminded him of her. Ah, God, that had to be it. What kind of idiot buys something like this for a noblewoman and expects it to go well? His instincts in situations like these were downright terrible.

“But—!” he blurted out, trying to salvage what he could. “Really, you don’t have to wear it or anything. If you don’t like it—”

Yet, before he could finish, Lovina looked up sharply. That same look was still in her eyes, surprised and searching, but now something more had joined it, something sure. She shook her head, firm and unbothered, as though she didn’t even need to think about it.

“No! I like it!” she said with sudden conviction.

Then, without another word, she turned away and passed the headpiece to her handmaid. “¡Ayúdame a ponerme esto! ¡Ayúdame a ponerme esto!” (Help me put this on! Help me put this on!)

Gilbert blinked, momentarily stunned by how quickly everything had shifted. One second he’d been ready to backtrack, and now… now she was actually going to wear it?

As the handmaid carefully worked the dark red fabric into her brown hair, it finally clicked—ah, she did like it after all.

“Lista, señorita Vargas!” (Ready, Miss Vargas!) The handmaid called out, finishing up her task as she set the headpiece into place, adjusting Lovina’s hair to match the accessory.

Only then did Lovina turn back to Gilbert, and for a moment, his earlier words felt undeniably true. She did look good in it—no, she looked… his mind stuttered…

“Pretty…” he muttered, perhaps a bit louder than intended. Realizing his slip, he quickly scrambled to ‘correct’ himself. “I mean—pretty good! It looks pretty good on you, haha!” Well, that was a close call. A perfect example of his mouth getting ahead of his brain.

Lovina turned away briefly, her gaze scanning the area until it landed on a small mirror positioned beside the stand. Perhaps it was there for customers to try on the accessories before buying. She stepped in front of it, inspecting herself with a contemplative look, her brow furrowing slightly. With a few delicate adjustments, she moved the headpiece a little higher, fixing certain strands of hair. After a moment, her features softened, and she gave a small nod of approval to her reflection.

“It does.” she said, turning back to Gilbert with a soft smile.

She moved closer now, her presence suddenly much more intimate. The tinge of pink still lingered on her cheeks, and for a second, he thought it might be from the cold. That seemed more likely, right? He forced his mind away from any other possibilities.

Lovina looked up at him, that soft smile still on her lips—and something twisted in Gilbert’s gut. His heart gave an unexpected leap

“Thank you, Gilbert. It is a pretty gift.” she murmured softly. And yet, for some reason, it felt like she’d said something shocking, because the Prussian could only stare at her, wide-eyed, as though he might suddenly fall face-first into the cobblestones.

Before he could respond, or even begin to process the warmth of her words, she handed him the white box that had once held the headpiece. Without another word, but still wearing that same expression, she turned and walked away with her handmaid, leaving Gilbert rooted in place, struck dumb by what had just happened...

In fact, he was so dazed he didn’t even realize he’d been handed the empty box, he just held it without thinking... His eyes followed Lovina as she moved through the marketplace, chatting with the locals. His heart thudded in his chest, so loudly it almost drowned out the sounds around him. And yet, despite the cold air, he felt strangely warm. It was a peculiar sensation, one he recognized as something that had been happening around Lovina quite often lately. And now, he was starting to doubt that this was merely nervousness…

It wasn’t until the merchant, who Gilbert had forgotten was still there, cleared his throat and spoke up that he was pulled from his trance.

“Your lady friend is quite a sight!” he called out with a friendly chuckle.

Though, the comment barely registered. Gilbert turned to him with a puzzled expression, his mind still tangled in the memory of Lovina’s reaction… those words, that look. It lingered like something… something he just couldn’t shake.

Noticing his customer’s distraction, the merchant let the remark slide and instead gestured toward the object in Gilbert’s hands. “Still planning to hold onto that box, sir? Or shall I take it back if it’s of no use to you?”

Only then did Gilbert notice he was even holding it. “Ah—yeah, you can have it.” he muttered, chuckling awkwardly as he handed it over. He was still reeling from the strange mess of thoughts and feelings that had overwhelmed him. He couldn’t make sense of it at all, and a familiar frustration began to rise, one he’d felt that night when Lovina had… thanked him.

The merchant tucked the box behind his stand with the others, then glanced back at Gilbert, clearly amused.

“You know,” he said, “you’re awfully confused for something that should be pretty obvious.”

Gilbert blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, sorry?” he replied, not sure what the man was getting at.

The merchant grinned. “C’mon, sir. You can’t really be this oblivious.”

He chuckled as he finished arranging the boxes, then gave Gilbert his full attention. The Prussian’s confusion deepened, and the man’s humor softened into something more like pity. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

“Tell me, sir, what went through your mind when your lady friend smiled at you like that?”

Gilbert froze. The question struck too close, and he had no idea how to answer. Why was this man even asking something so personal? Still… a small part of him hesitated. Maybe the merchant knew something… maybe he could actually explain whatever this was that had taken hold of him.

What if the answer was simple? Something like: “Oh, it seems you've caught a common cold, and that's why your mind is reacting like that, making you feel a certain way around her! And you've never felt that way around your other female friends? Well, that's because you’ve never had this cold before! It's really that simple!"

The idea was oddly comforting. If it were just an illness, there’d be nothing more to it. No need to question what he felt for Lovina. No need to face the possibility that it wasn’t so simple after all…

After a long pause, Gilbert sighed and gave a reluctant nod. “It’s strange… really. It’s like I can’t make heads or tails of it. My heartbeat speeds up, and I feel feverish…” He rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating. “I’m probably just sick, right?”

The merchant let out a sharp laugh, nearly incredulous, and waved a hand as if brushing off the idea. “Sick?” he echoed, clearly baffled that this was the conclusion Gilbert had drawn.

Gilbert frowned. He’d been hoping for insight… not ridicule.

Once his laughter subsided, the merchant wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and gave his customer an apologetic look, though his amusement still lingered.

“My apologies,” he said, still chuckling. “But I suppose you are coming down with something, if you want to put it that way...” He laughed again, clearly entertained by Gilbert’s confusion and the fact that the answer was so plain to everyone but him.

Gilbert blinked. “Huh? Really? And what is it?” A hint of relief crept into his voice, as if hoping for a neat explanation.

The merchant, however, knew it wasn’t quite so simple. Still, there was something endearing about Gilbert’s obliviousness. Despite himself, he felt a small tug of sympathy for the poor guy.

Leaning in with a knowing look, he lowered his voice, savoring the moment. “Love-sickness.” he said, drawing out the words with dramatic flair. Then, with a grin, he pointed straight at the albino. “Monsieur, you’re in love.”

Perhaps saying Gilbert turned as white as a sheet of paper wasn’t the best way to describe what he felt in that moment—especially considering he already was, thanks to Mother Nature, about as pale as one could get. But it felt like the color drained out of him, like something had just reached inside and rattled him down to the bone. His heartbeat stalled for a second, then picked up again far too quickly. Like his body had caught onto something long before his mind had.

At first, he did what any sane man would: he denied it. Mentally. Vocally. Scoffing at the very idea that someone would accuse him of… that. (Again.) He wasn’t in love!

But even as he protested, he could feel it—the other side of him, the quieter part he’d been trying to ignore, slipping through the cracks in his logic. It climbed over every excuse, every justification he’d stacked up like a wall around himself. And once it was through, it just stood there, staring him in the face with something terrifyingly obvious.

Now that he was really thinking about it… hadn’t all the signs been there?

Elizabeta had once said love gave you butterflies. “You’ll feel them in your stomach,” she’d claimed, “like you're nervous and thrilled all at once.” And earlier, just a few moments ago, when he’d handed Lovina the headpiece, his gut had twisted. It hadn’t hurt, but it had knocked the breath out of him, like a thousand tiny wings flapping in his chest.

Roderich said love made you reckless. Impulsive. Blind to reason. And even knowing there would be political consequences, even knowing how much trouble he could stir by bringing Lovina out of Spain, he hadn’t hesitated. He did it anyway. Because it hadn’t felt like a choice, it felt necessary. Like making her happy was worth ‘burning’ for.

Emma told him love made your head spin. And lately? His thoughts had been nothing but her. Spinning and circling and spiraling around Lovina. He couldn’t shut it off.

Antonio had once sworn that love made you willing to do anything for someone. And just then, as that thought surfaced, Gilbert’s gaze drifted to the other side of the marketplace, and there she was. Lovina. Smiling at something. Eyes bright. Lips curled.

And as he watched her, it hit him. If that light in her eyes ever dimmed again, replaced by the sadness she’d once carried, back in Spain, he wouldn’t be able to bear it. He would do anything, truly anything, just to keep her smiling like that…

And this feeling wasn’t new. Not really. He’d felt it before. He just… never let himself linger on it. He’d been… oblivious.

“A man who falls in love for the first time is always oblivious.” That’s what that bartender had told him that day… back at the first tavern they’d stopped at. At the time, he’d thought it was ridiculous… he hadn’t understood.

But now?

Now it didn’t seem so absurd. Now it felt more like a realization—because what the man had meant, not just hinted at but truly meant, was that he, Gilbert, was in love.

And it was in this moment that Gilbert finally understood that…

oh God… he was in love with Lovina.

The truth didn’t just creep in, it came crashing down on him, leaving no room for second-guessing. He had all the evidence, after all. And perhaps, for someone who had never felt this way before, it should have been overwhelming. But it wasn’t just surprise or confusion that took hold of him. It was awe. Pure, wide-eyed wonder.

Love?
The thought echoed in his mind as he stood frozen, like a statue. That was new. He’d never been in love before… but now, apparently, he was. He was in love.

And he’d be lying if he said it didn’t thrill him. This strange, fluttery, heart-pounding rush that coursed through him, and was still coursing through him, this was love. Real love.
Wow.
And that was supposed to be a good thing… wasn’t it? Well, he sure as hell felt like it was.

A small smile broke across his face as he relished in the realization. “Hey, would you look at that…!” he murmured with a half-laugh. “I actually fell in love.”

Still smiling, he pressed a hand to his chest, right over his heart, as if to confirm it was real. It was beating so fast, like it was trying to leap out of his ribs. So it was real.

“I’m in love!” he announced, louder now, caught in the moment. “I’m in love!”

The merchant beside him chuckled lightly at the outburst, nodding in good-natured agreement, as if revelations like this occurred at his market stall every other day.

But Gilbert hardly noticed. His thoughts were too busy racing around a single notion: love! What a wild, wonderful thing! Now he finally understood what everyone had always talked about. It felt as if someone had lit a fire in his chest, and all he wanted was to bask in its warmth.

Yet… as quickly as the joy and thrill had come, they just as swiftly slipped away, as the Prussian realized something else that came with these so-called feelings he held for the Italian girl.
His smile twitched. The fire in his chest still burned, but it was starting to feel more like a weight than warmth. His brows drew together slightly, and he blinked, as if trying to clear his thoughts.

Wait a second… he mused inwardly. What did this actually mean? What did falling in love with Lovina truly imply?

His heart gave a jolt—not like before, but sharp, anxious. It felt less like falling and more like stumbling into something terrifying. And as the implications settled in, excitement gave way to something else entirely…

Panic.

“Oh… Gott,” he murmured, his voice a far cry from the earlier enthusiasm. “I’m… in love… with her…”
And the way he said it, it sounded less like a confession and more like a problem he couldn’t figure out. Which, honestly, wasn’t too far from the truth.

He turned around slowly and leaned forward, bracing both hands on the edge of the merchant’s stall. His face was stricken and he almost looked like he might collapse right then and there, stall and all. Not on purpose, of course.

The merchant looked at him, puzzled. Just moments ago, this man had seemed like he’d been handed a miracle. Now he looked as though someone had handed him a death sentence. And before he could even ask what was wrong…

“AH—I’m in love!” Gilbert blurted out, even louder than before. His hand shot up to his head, fingers raking through his already-untidy hair. It stuck out worse than ever, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care, for that matter.

“This is bad. This is really bad!” he muttered, the words tumbling out faster now, laced with panic. “I’m supposed to be her friend! How did I let this happen?!”

The merchant blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. He opened his mouth, aiming to offer some kind of comfort. “Monsieur, love is not—”

But he didn’t get the chance.

“It is in this case!” Gilbert snapped, already pacing. His hands moved restlessly with every word. “She’s supposed to be able to trust me! I’m supposed to be… I don’t know… safe! Someone she can rely on!”

His voice dropped as he let out a frustrated sigh, shoulders sinking under the weight of his thoughts. He dragged his hands through his hair again, visibly unraveling.

“If I feel this way about her… if I see her like this… how could she ever trust me again?” he whispered. There was no panic in his voice this time, only raw disappointment in himself. “She’ll think I’m just some guy who can’t even keep himself in check around a woman!”

He let out a sharp breath. “What kind of man am I if I—”

But (thankfully), the thought never reached its end. He just clenched his jaw, hesitated to say more, and gripped his hair again, like he was trying to pull the feelings straight out of his head.

The merchant watched in silence, his expression shifting, less surprised now, and more sympathetic. He shook his head and clicked his tongue. Then, finally, seeing that Gilbert wasn’t going to interrupt again, he spoke.

“That’s just it, monsieur. You are but a man.”

The reaction he got was enough to keep him going—Gilbert looked up, wide-eyed, and stared at him.

“And no man,” he continued calmly, “no matter how proud, how careful, how strong, has ever tamed the heart once it begins to feel. Especially not before a woman who stirs it.”

He gave a small shrug, as if to say the truth wasn’t new, it was just something Gilbert had to face on his own.

“We don’t choose when it happens. We can’t reason it away. But that doesn’t make you untrustworthy, as you put it,” he added softly. “It makes you honest.”

After a pause, he offered a faint smile.

“A man who feels is not a danger, mon ami. A man who lies to himself, that is the one you should fear.”

And with that, he turned away to shift some merchandise on his stand.

Gilbert didn’t speak right away. He just stared at the Frenchman, watching him move around with an unreadable expression. His words lingered in the air and they felt sharp. But they didn’t cut in a way that hurt. No, they sank beneath Gilbert’s skin, peeling back the noise in his head until all that remained was stillness.

A man who lies to himself… that is the one you should fear.
The words echoed in his mind.

“Lying to himself…” he murmured, almost testing the phrase, tasting it. His eyes stayed fixed on the empty space ahead, though he wasn’t really seeing anything, only sifting through his thoughts.

And then it hit him. That’s what he’d been doing, wasn’t it? Lying to himself.

All this time… he hadn’t been awkward. He hadn’t been nervous. It wasn’t just friendship, either. God, no.

It had been love.

And he’d tried to dress it up as something else, excuse it away with safer words. What a lame move…

Gilbert had always seen himself as strong. Told others that, too. But what kind of strength was it if he couldn’t even be honest with himself? That wasn’t strength. That was fear. Fear of the truth. He’d been lying to himself to avoid it, hadn’t he? Because deep down, it wasn’t embarrassment or nervousness holding him back, it was fear of losing her trust. He hadn’t realized it until now, but it had always been there, quietly working beneath the surface, fueling every excuse.

And if he truly wanted to be the man he claimed to be, someone strong, someone certain, he couldn’t keep running from it. Maybe the merchant was right. Maybe he wasn’t untrustworthy for feeling this way about Lovina. Maybe, as the Frenchman had said, he was just… a man.

And he had to admit that now.

The truth settled in his chest as he pressed a hand to his heart once more, feeling its steady rhythm. Just a man, he thought again. One who had fallen in love. And what was so wrong with that?

It meant he was alive. That his heart was capable of caring deeply, fiercely. That he was human.

His friends had told him that once, hadn’t they? That love is what makes someone human.

Yeah… love wasn’t a bad thing. And it didn’t make him untrustworthy for feeling it. It just made him… real.

And admitting that? Felt good. Really good.

But even as he finally made peace with himself on that matter, another thought emerged, one that wasn’t exactly comforting, but logical, realistic.

He couldn’t… wouldn’t tell her. Not now. Not when her mind was still wrapped up in the reunion with her sister. She had her own burdens to carry, and he wouldn’t add to them…

And maybe not even after that… Because if she never looked at him that way, if all she ever needed was his friendship, then that was what he’d give her. Just that.

Huh… Maybe that was what Antonio meant when he talked about love’s sacrifices.

But even so, just knowing what these feelings truly were, finally understanding them without hesitation or confusion… that was enough for him.

It had to be.

He’d be selfish to ask for anything more.

Gilbert drew in a deep breath, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a quietness settled over him. The kind that comes after a long battle, when the field is still, and silence hangs in the air like dust.

His thoughts still moved, but no longer in chaos. Now they drifted… slow, calm. Because now he understood what he’d been running from. What he’d been so reluctant to name.

And it felt… peaceful.

At long last, Gilbert felt at peace.

He straightened up and let out a soft, almost sheepish chuckle as he ran a hand through his messy white hair. His gaze shifted back to the French merchant, who was still preoccupied with tidying the display of goods on his stall.

“You’re right,” Gilbert said suddenly, his voice lighter now, but sincere.

The merchant glanced up, attentive once more.

“Thanks, man. Really. You just solved one of the biggest dilemmas I’ve been dragging around.”

The older man offered a small, knowing smile and nodded once, his expression warm but unobtrusive. There was nothing more that needed to be said.

After a few parting words and a wish for the man’s business to prosper, Gilbert turned from the stand and made his way back toward the carriages. His chest was light and his mind clear.

He returned to the carriage he and Lovina would board once his court had reassembled and settled into place. The market’s din buzzed around him, but he barely noticed it. His eyes were already searching for Lovina, and, as always, he found her without much effort.

There she stood, just across the way, paused in front of a mirror at another vendor’s stand. She was adjusting her hair, her fingers fussing with a stubborn strand that never seemed to sit like the rest.

Gilbert watched her in silence, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint smile. It was strange, really, how long it had taken him to realize just how much he admired her. But now that he had, the feeling was undeniable. He really did love her.

Before long, the group had gathered again, returning to their respective carriages to continue the journey. Soon enough, the wheels were in motion once more.

Across from Gilbert, Lovina sat quietly, still wearing the headpiece he had given her, reading the French book she’d purchased. He couldn’t help but watch her, though she seemed unaware of how long his gaze lingered.

Eventually, though, Gilbert had to tear his eyes away and focus on the map. He marked off the French village they’d just passed through and began calculating how much longer it would take to reach Austria. One more week or so, he thought, eyeing the distance that still lay ahead…

The village had been near the Swiss border, so it wasn’t long, just a day or so, before they crossed into Switzerland. And since it was early December, the first few days of travel through the country were calm. No snow, and no sign of it coming anytime soon. Midway through their route, they decided to stop for the night at a small inn, rather than press on through the dark. Everything seemed fine.

But by morning, just as everyone reboarded the carriages and prepared to depart, the first snow of winter began to fall—large, fast-moving flakes drifting down from the sky.

Normally, the first snowfall would be a welcome sight—everyone loved when the world turned white and soft, perfect for running and jumping around. But not this time. If the snow kept falling—and it likely would, it was December after all—it would spell big trouble for them. Thick layers of snow would bring the carriages to a halt, the wheels unable to turn, and the horses left to struggle. Or worse, they’d have to leave the carriages behind altogether and continue on horseback. It would be a mess.

So, like any leader in his position, Gilbert made a call: they would push ahead without pause, traveling through the night if they had to. Austria wasn’t far now, just a few more days, and he was determined to see it through without delays. That’s why he insisted they had to beat the snow before it buried the roads completely.

His advisers agreed with his reasoning; none of them liked the thought of being stuck in a snowdrift. And so, their hurried departure began, just as the snow outside started to fall faster, the flakes multiplying in the cold morning air.

As he watched the road through the window, Gilbert was tense. Judging by how heavily the snow was already falling, he figured it wouldn’t be long before it started piling up on the roads—slowing, if not completely halting, their journey. Some might call him pessimistic, but you couldn’t really blame the poor guy. He just wanted to get Lovina to her sister, like he said he would. He couldn’t afford delays, not now…

With that thought in mind, the Prussian sighed loudly and kept his gaze fixed outside, watching the thick flakes swirl down from the sky. It irritated him. With a sharp tug, he yanked the curtain aside and leaned his head out of the carriage, catching the attention of the footman up front.

“Tell the ones ahead to go faster!” he let out.

The footman gave a quick nod, urging the horses into a faster trot and calling out to the others, both ahead and behind, to do the same. Satisfied for now, Gilbert slumped back into his seat, letting the curtain fall back into place. He rubbed his eyes and let out another sigh, weariness beginning to show.

Across from him, Lovina watched Gilbert with a slightly confused look, especially in response to the irritated expression he wore while staring out at the snow. She studied him for another moment, brow furrowed, then gave the curtain a small tug and looked out the window herself.

The snow was still falling, soft but fast. It was the first snow of the year, she realized. And while she had never liked the cold, she didn’t see the problem, at least not the way Gilbert did. He had mentioned once that snow could delay their trip to Austria and all… but still.

She let the curtain fall back into place and turned her gaze toward him again. He was still tense—shoulders stiff, jaw set. She gave a small, disapproving shake of her head and said. “This is the first snow of the year.”

Gilbert looked up at that, but only offered a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, unfortunately.” he muttered before looking away again.

Lovina rolled her eyes. “No, it is not unfortunate.” she pressed, which earned her a puzzled glance from Gilbert, which was understandable, given how clearly unfortunate the situation seemed to him. So, she continued.

“In Italy, we say ‘la prima neve porta fortuna’—the first snow brings good luck, new beginnings. So no, it is not unfortunate.”

She tilted her head toward the window, pulled the curtain open again, and reached her hand outside, perhaps to prove her point. Snowflakes drifted down, landing gently on her glove, and the Prussian watched in surprise.

“You should do this too,” she said, glancing at him from the corner of her eye, snapping him out of his momentary surprise. “If you want luck for the rest of the journey.”

Gilbert just blinked at her, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he followed her lead. Slowly, he reached for the curtain on his side, pulled it aside, and extended his hand into the cold, mimicking her stance.

Snowflakes fell onto the dark leather of his glove, standing out starkly against the surface. He watched in silence as they melted, only to be replaced by others, the cycle repeating itself.

As he observed this, his thoughts lingered on what Lovina had just said: New beginnings, he echoed inwardly. His gaze drifted from the snowflakes to her.

She was still catching them, just like him, her expression calm. Something about the sight stirred him. He found himself staring without meaning to, and his heart gave a sudden lurch in his chest.

New beginnings, he thought again. And maybe that was just it—because for him, for this feeling, it truly was.

After a few more seconds, Lovina drew her hand back inside and let the curtain fall closed, shutting out the cold. Gilbert did the same, pulling his hand in and sealing the window once more.

Then she looked at him with a small smile. “We now have fortune,” she said, sounding completely certain. “We’ll reach Austria without any trouble.”

She was so sure, so confident, that Gilbert found himself believing her almost without question.

“I’ll take your word for it.” he responded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

And so, it was said and done. Maybe the Italian saying had been right—maybe the first snow really did bring fortune. Or perhaps they’d simply caught a stroke of luck with the weather.

But whatever the reason, the fortune Lovina had mentioned proved true. Only a thin layer of snow had settled on the ground. It wasn’t ideal, of course, no snow would’ve been better, but it wasn’t enough to stop the carriages.

And the snowfall eventually stopped, and didn’t return. Not until they reached Vienna, that is.

Because yes—finally, after weeks on the winding roads of Europe, they arrived at their long-awaited destination.

Yet, luck or not, it was still winter—and winter meant snow.

That said, just as they neared the city, the snowfall returned—harsher this time. It wasn’t like before… this felt more like a blizzard.
But with only a short distance left to his cousin’s palace, Gilbert told his court to press on and just get there already.

The snow piled up by the hour, slowing the carriages more and more, but the horses still managed to push forward, urged on by the footmen. And, eventually, they made it.

It was very late by the time the carriages rolled up to the outer gates of the Austrian palace—past 2 a.m., according to a pocket watch Gilbert had found tucked away in one of the carriage compartments.

If not for the worsening snow, they would’ve arrived by evening. Still, they’d made it, and that was what mattered.

Lovina had fallen asleep somewhere along the way—which was understandable, given the late hour. Gilbert might’ve done the same if he hadn’t been so focused on reaching their destination...

A knock at the carriage door broke the quiet, followed by the slow creak of it opening.

“Your Majesty, we’ve arrived.” the footman announced quietly.

Outside, only a few Austrian guards stood watch at the gate. Gilbert’s men had already gone ahead to speak with them. He hadn’t sent a letter ahead, hadn’t warned Roderich of his arrival—so naturally, no one was waiting with open arms.

Roderich and Elizabeta were likely fast asleep at this hour… And as much as he hated the idea of waking them—well, maybe not that much in Roderich’s case—he didn’t exactly have a choice.

Gilbert glanced over at Lovina, still peacefully asleep in her seat, then turned back to the footman with a tired but amused look.

“Well then,” he whispered in response, “once the guards open the gates, send someone to let Roderich know that his favorite”—he put emphasis on the word, already imagining the reaction—“cousin’s here.”

Chapter Text

The guards at the front gates sprang into action as soon as they received word from Gilbert’s men: the King of a neighboring country had arrived, and he was none other than their Emperor’s cousin. Without delay, they opened the gates, allowing the carriages to roll into the palace courtyard and be parked wherever space permitted. A few of Gilbert’s attendants signaled to nearby Austrian guards, who quickly fetched several palace staff. Once they arrived, the German attendants informed them to summon the Emperor immediately—after all, royalty was here. The Austrian attendants obeyed without question.

It wasn’t long before Gilbert, Lovina, and members of his court gathered in the palace’s main hallway, standing before the grand staircase that led to the upper chambers, including the throne room. All that remained was to await the Austrian Emperor—and, presumably, the Empress as well.

Gilbert stifled a yawn, blinking several times as he fought to keep his heavy eyelids from closing. The exhaustion from the journey was finally catching up to him. He hadn’t slept well in days, his focus consumed by the trip itself. But… now that they had arrived, fatigue washed over him in full, and staying upright felt like a miracle in motion. Somehow, though, he remained standing.

Just behind him, Lovina watched quietly as Austrian and Hungarian attendants moved through the hall, lighting candles to push back the gloom. Without them, the space would have been pitch black. Her gaze wandered, taking in the unfamiliar architecture… so different from the warm, inviting styles she was used to. Italy and Spain, both shaped by Romance influences, shared artistic commonalities. But the Austro-Hungarian Empire? It spoke its own language. (Literally and figuratively!)

Where Italian and Spanish architecture leaned into warm earth tones, flowing arches, and lively tilework that made a place feel lived-in, Austria favored something quite the opposite: Germanic precision, grandeur, and refinement. And Gilbert’s cousin’s palace, in the very heart of the Empire, was no exception: soaring ceilings, gleaming marble, crystal chandeliers. Beautiful, yes. But also cold. The kind of cold that even fireplaces couldn’t quite chase away…

Still, Lovina didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she looked more curious than uncomfortable… though “curious” might not have been the right word. Maybe she was simply too tired to form an opinion. Her expression was soft and unreadable, more the result of exhaustion than genuine interest.

Gilbert tore his eyes from the empty staircase (Roderich really was taking his sweet time) and turned his full attention to Lovina. Even as drowsy as he was, he couldn’t help but notice how she rubbed her eyes, then let her hands fall limply in front of her, though her eyes remained shut. Well... that settled it. She was definitely exhausted too, he realized silently, catching the way her head began to slowly tilt downward.

But… as much as he would’ve liked to let her rest, he couldn’t exactly let her fall asleep standing up. The last thing he needed was for her to topple over. She had to stay awake, at least until Roderich finally decided to grace them with his presence…

Honestly, this was no way to treat guests. Or family, for that matter. Gilbert exhaled sharply through his nose, already irritated just thinking about it. Roderich had better show up soon, he thought, as if willing it could make a difference. Hopefully, Elizabeta was awake and ready to knock some sense into him. Someone had to.

With a quiet sigh, Gilbert pushed the thought aside and gently tapped Lovina’s shoulder, turning his attention to what truly mattered (her). She stirred, blinking groggily before giving him a tired glance.

He gave her a faint smile, doing his best to hide his own weariness. Then, in a low voice, he asked: “How do you like Austrian architecture?”

It was a random question, sure, but that didn’t matter. He just needed something, anything, to keep her from drifting further. Apparently, he’d landed on his cousin’s taste in decor.

Lovina blinked slowly, her gaze drifting over the grand hallway for a moment, as if mulling over his question, before returning to Gilbert. With a soft huff, she muttered. “It’s… whatever…”

Well… that was an answer, alright. Not exactly what he’d hoped for—if you wanted to keep someone awake, you had to keep them talking. Still, he supposed he should’ve seen it coming; she was never talkative when this sleepy.

He figured that was the extent of her reply and began stringing together a list of questions, just enough to coax out those tired, one-word answers.
But then, after a pause, she kept going.

“Actually, I think it is pretty,” she said, nodding slightly toward the polished floor, as if to back up her point.

That caught him off guard, since, as mentioned, she usually clammed up the moment drowsiness set in.
Huh. First time for everything, he guessed, and he leaned in a little, listening…

"Because it has a lot of crystals and marble. And rich, uh... motivi," (motifs) she said, her voice dipping briefly into Italian. She let out a tired, or maybe judgmental, sigh.

"But it doesn't really do anything except look nice," she added more quietly. "It doesn’t have any… warm—uh, warmth."

Then, almost as an afterthought, she murmured: "Unlike home."

Maybe Gilbert shouldn’t have been so surprised by what she’d just said, but could you really blame him? She had just put into words the impression he’d always had about Austrian architecture: that it was cold.

He found himself oddly invigorated by her response. It was strange, really, how just a few quiet words from her seemed to shake off some of his exhaustion. Maybe it was because she’d so perfectly captured what he’d always thought about the place. Not word for word, of course, but close enough. That coldness… she’d nailed it! And realizing they thought alike made his heart flutter a little.

Or maybe it was simply that he admired anything that came out of her mouth. Either way, it was a good thing, because now, at least, he didn't feel like falling asleep anymore.

He studied her for a moment longer, the small smile still lingering on his face, maybe even growing.

“My thoughts exactly.” he said at last, a quiet chuckle escaping him.

Lovina gave a small nod in return, and for the first time since they’d arrived, she looked just a bit more awake as well.

So he kept the conversation going—for now, at least—just to keep her on her feet (literally). He tossed out a few more questions, nothing too serious: casual things about the trip, the country, their surroundings. The topic didn’t matter, only that she stayed alert. And it seemed to be working! The Italian girl no longer looked like she was about to slip into unconsciousness.

But as the words came and went, something tugged at the back of his mind. There was one question he hadn’t asked yet, the one he probably should’ve started with, since it was the most important, the reason they were here in the first place.

His speech faltered, and he paused briefly, pondering this. But really, there wasn’t much to think about; it was time to act. He cleared his throat softly, turned to the girl, and said her name in a quiet tone: “Lovina?”

She gave a small, tired “Hm?” and turned to glance at him, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.

Meeting her gaze, Gilbert suddenly felt a little foolish for forgetting what actually mattered, fatigue or not. At least he remembered now, he thought, a small attempt to salvage his dignity. That had to count for something… right?

Clearing his throat again, he pushed aside all the other thoughts and focused on what mattered. He asked Lovina quietly, not wanting to startle her with the question: “Are you… happy that you’ll be seeing your sister again?”

In that moment, any trace of sleep vanished from Lovina’s face. She stared at him, wide-eyed, as if his question had caught her completely off guard—which, in fact, it had. A beat passed, longer than he had expected, before she finally parted her lips to speak.

“My…”

But she never got the chance to finish.

A sudden, echoing creak sliced through the hallway, and Gilbert instantly recognized the unmistakable sound of the grand doors at the top of the staircase swinging open. The noise drew the attention of everyone present, including Lovina, who paused her conversation with Gilbert and turned toward the now-opened doors. And there, stepping through at last, was the man they had all been waiting for.

“The Emperor has arrived!” an Austrian attendant announced in German, stepping aside to allow his ruler to pass through the doors and into full view.

Gilbert's gaze immediately fixed on his cousin. He wasn’t sure what he had expected—knowing Roderich, the man always made an effort to look presentable, to project some sort of grandeur, or at least a composed imperial presence, regardless of the situation. But whatever he had imagined, it certainly wasn’t… well, this.

Roderich stood there in his night robes, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed (which, in truth, he had). His usually neat hair was a disheveled mess—honestly, it could almost rival Gilbert’s on a bad day—and he was adjusting a pair of black-rimmed glasses with a deeply tired expression. But more than anything, he looked... irritated. Or angry. Or maybe both. Gilbert wasn’t entirely sure. Either way, it was clear the man was not thrilled to be awake at this hour.

The Prussian blinked in surprise. Of all people, Roderich was the last he expected to see looking like a complete mess. Again, the man was famously refined, always polished, proper, and perfectly put together. Yet here he was, standing at the top of the grand staircase in rumpled night robes, his hair sticking out at odd angles, looking more like an annoyed scholar than an emperor. For a moment, Gilbert actually squinted, half-convinced he might’ve mistaken someone else for his cousin.

But no, after another second of staring at the tired, visibly grumpy brunet, he confirmed it. That was Roderich. No doubt about it.

Well, I’ll be damned.

“Roderich!” Gilbert finally called out in German, lifting a hand and waving with his usual easy grin, the kind he always used when greeting friends or family. “I almost didn’t recognize you, haha!” he joked, voice bright and teasing.

He held onto the hope that his cousin would catch the humor, maybe even crack a smile. But judging by the sharp furrow of Roderich’s brows and the deepening scowl on his face, that hope died quickly.

Nope. He didn’t get the joke. Not even close. In fact, if anything, he looked more pissed off now.

Before Gilbert could think of a way to smooth things over, Roderich finally spoke… or rather, yelled.

“One by one, you scurry to me like… like rats!” he snapped angrily as he stormed down the staircase. Behind him, a small group of court attendants scrambled to keep up, clearly caught off guard by their emperor’s sudden burst of speed.

Gilbert blinked at the insult, a bit thrown by how quickly things had escalated. Well. Maybe the expression old habits die hard really did hold some truth…

“Seriously!” Roderich continued, his footsteps loud and echoing through the large marble hall, each one more forceful than the last, as if the red rug beneath him had personally wronged him. “What is this? An inn?!”

By the time he reached the bottom, he was already right in Gilbert’s face, pointing accusingly and waving his arms like a conductor in the middle of a particularly chaotic symphony.

“First Ludwig shows up without notice, not even a letter! At the crack of dawn! Two days ago! I had to drag myself out of bed to give that child a room!”

“Wait… Ludwig didn’t write?” Gilbert started to ask, but he didn’t get far before the next wave of Roderich’s fury crashed over him.

“And now you—you! What are you doing here at—” he yanked a pocket watch from his robe and snapped it open, “—nearly three in the morning?! Why didn’t you write?! Huh?!”

He jabbed a finger toward Gilbert’s chest, eyes wide with righteous indignation.

“Again, I had to wake up from my beauty sleep! Do you think I tolerate this kind of behavior?! Because I assure you, I do not!”

With that, Roderich sucked in a dramatic breath and let it out in a long, theatrical exhale, as if the sheer injustice of it all had physically exhausted him. Then, he launched into another tirade, somehow even angrier than before… Oh boy…

Gilbert stayed quiet as Roderich’s rant tapered off, deciding the safest course of action was simply to wait it out. After all, there wasn’t much he could do. When Roderich got like this, trying to reason with him was like throwing kindling on an open flame. Sure, he understood his cousin’s frustration. Honestly, he probably would’ve reacted the same way if their roles were reversed. But right now, he was just too damn tired to match the energy…

So he stood there, watching the fire grow and grow until it finally flickered out, Roderich’s chest no longer rising and falling so dramatically. When the silence settled—uneasy, but silence nonetheless—the king cautiously broke it.

“Can I say something now… or…?”

Without missing a second, Roderich flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture. “No!” he snapped, making the Prussian sigh. He could swear that if he didn’t feel like collapsing, he would’ve had something to say about the way his cousin was treating him right now.

“Your Imperial Majesty…” one of the nearby attendants began gently, no doubt trying to intervene before things spiraled again, but it didn’t look like Roderich was in the mood to reconsider anything. He stood firm, arms crossed, still exuding the furious frustration of a man who had been dragged out of bed one too many times this week.

It wasn’t until the grand double doors swung open again, followed by the echo of hurried footsteps descending the staircase, that the situation finally shifted in Gilbert’s favor.

“Roderich!” a woman’s voice called out in disbelief, her footsteps quickening in tandem with her words.

Gilbert’s head snapped up at the familiar voice, a flicker of recognition lighting in his eyes. He looked past his cousin just in time to catch sight of a light brunette woman hurrying down the stairs, her night robe hastily tied around her and her hair tousled from sleep. But unlike Roderich’s chaotic appearance, her disheveled look wasn’t exactly a shock—not to Gilbert, at least. He’d known her since childhood, and he’d seen her like this more times than he could count. And, truthfully, even worse!

“Lizzy!” he called out, his face lighting up as he waved energetically in her direction.

Just behind her, another attendant attempted a formal announcement, declaring: “Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress, has arrived!” But Gilbert barely heard it. He was already grinning, waving with even more enthusiasm, if that was even possible.

Thank goodness she was awake! If anyone could cut through Roderich’s temper tantrum, it was her.

Elizabeta returned Gilbert’s smile and wave with equal enthusiasm as she descended the last steps, making her way straight toward the two Germans—or rather, right between them. Without a word, she placed a hand on each of their chests and carefully pushed them apart.

Gilbert got the message right away and took a step back without protest. Roderich, however, stood his ground, still fuming silently, clearly not done being offended.

That didn’t escape his wife’s notice.

“Roderich,” she said, turning to him with a small, disapproving look, “that is no way to treat our guests, who are probably exhausted, and also happen to be family.” She motioned toward Gilbert. “You’re cousins. Be nice to each other.”

Gilbert nodded, giving his cousin a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Yeah, Roderich. Be nice to me.”

That earned him nothing but a deeper scowl from the already-annoyed emperor.

Elizabeta shook her head and turned her gaze on Gilbert, unimpressed. “Both of you.” she corrected, her voice firm.

“Ah…” the Prussian replied, shoulders lifting slightly in a sheepish shrug.

She studied him for a moment longer, the sternness fading quickly from her face and replaced by a look of intrigue. “Still,” she added, “it’s a bit strange for you to show up out of nowhere…”

Her words trailed off, but after a brief pause, she seemed to decide not to press the matter, at least not for now. Instead, she smiled warmly and pulled him into a friendly hug.

“Well, whatever the reason, it’s good to see you again, Gil!”

Gilbert let out a quiet sigh of relief as he hugged her back, a small laugh slipping out. “Likewise, Lizzy!”

(In their time, hugging a married woman in front of her husband, or any woman, really, wasn’t considered entirely proper. The correct course of action, if one wished to initiate physical contact, was to kiss the woman’s hand as a sign of respect—what Gilbert would usually do with his female friends, like Emma, for example. Otherwise, it was best to avoid physical interaction altogether.

But, in contrast to other female friends, he’d known Elizabeta since childhood, especially since her marriage to his cousin had been arranged long before either of them had a say in the matter. In fact, it was fortunate that they’d grown so fond of each other over the years—despite the marriage being forced on both of them—they were as sappy as a couple could get nowadays. Gilbert had often visited the Austrian Kingdom—back when it was just a kingdom, before uniting with Hungary—and Elizabeta had been there too, spending time with Roderich.

That was when they’d become friends, bonding over their shared love of hunting, horseback riding, and turning everything into a race! Good memories, those… Of course, as she’d matured, her behavior had softened, especially given her role as Empress. But despite the changes, she was still the same Lizzy, awesome when she wanted to be. So, for him, and for her too, there was nothing wrong with offering or returning a hug. Roderich knew that as well.)

With a glance at his still mildly smoldering cousin, Gilbert added with a grin: “You too, Roderich. It’s good to see you too.”

The other man rolled his eyes but finally seemed to let go of his lingering grudge. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and waited patiently for Gilbert to finish embracing Elizabeta. Once he had, Roderich crossed his arms and gave him a look that was more serious than angry now, though the exhaustion still clung to his features.

“Gilbert,” he said plainly, “why are you here? Shouldn’t you have gone directly to your kingdom after Spain?” The second question didn’t sound much like a question at all, more like a statement he already knew the answer to. (That, yes, he should have).

Gilbert let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head as he tried to piece his explanation together. “Well, about that…”

But before he could say anything more, he felt a shift behind him, then a light tug at his cloak. He turned his head to find Lovina standing much closer than before, her fingers clutching the fabric as if she were hiding behind him. She peeked out cautiously, studying the unfamiliar faces gathered before them, with the exception of the Austro-Hungarian Emperor, whom she likely recognized from when Italy had been divided between him and the Spanish crown.

She tugged again and looked up at him, her voice low, as if she didn’t want the others to overhear.
“Uh, Gilbert, who are they...? Why did that man scream at you...?”

And just like that, whatever Gilbert had been about to say slipped from his mind. A sudden realization struck him: of course Lovina hadn’t understood a word of what had just been said. It had all been in German, and she didn’t speak it.

He blinked and turned back toward her, feeling stupid all over again. Ah, he kept forgetting things! He could blame it on exhaustion, but he knew that wasn’t much of an excuse... or maybe it was. He was too tired to think straight anymore…

A quick glance at the royal couple in front of him showed them both watching him with matching raised brows, no doubt wondering why he kept glancing behind himself like a nervous dog.

Gilbert shot them an awkward look before turning back to Lovina. He crouched slightly to speak more quietly to her.
“The man with the glasses is the Austrian… well, Austro-Hungarian Emperor,” he murmured. “And the woman next to him is the Empress.”

“The Emperor?” Lovina echoed, peeking out from behind Gilbert’s cloak just long enough to catch a glimpse of the pair before retreating slightly again. She gave a small, quiet nod to show she understood, but then added, “I actually saw the Emperor before… but he looked…” Her eyes flicked toward Roderich, narrowing slightly, before shifting back to Gilbert. “Different back then… I did not recognize him like this.”

It seemed she, too, struggled to believe this was truly the Austrian Emperor, considering how neatly he usually presented himself, and how wrecked he appeared now.

Gilbert let out a small laugh, ready to comment on that, but before he could get a word out, Lovina gave his cloak another tug. This time, her fingers curled into the fabric with more… how could he describe it… urgency? It felt like it. Instinctively, his full attention shifted to her, whatever he’d meant to say slipping from his mind…

"Ask them..." she murmured, her eyes lifting to meet his once more. "About my sister... about Feliciana..."

The words were barely audible, but they carried so much meaning, so much longing, that they seemed to echo… figuratively, of course. The Prussian furrowed his brows slightly. Of course she was growing restless, he thought. Anyone would after half a year without seeing their sibling…

He took a moment to fully absorb Lovina’s words, reminding himself again that he couldn’t afford to get distracted—by his cousin’s behavior, Elizabeta’s friendliness, or anything else. After all, the whole reason he had come here was to reunite Lovina with Feliciana, and if he didn’t see it through now, he didn’t know what he would do…

Gilbert’s gaze lingered on the Italian girl a moment longer before he slowly reached out and placed a hand over hers, still clenched around his cloak. It was meant as reassurance, and he gave her a faint smile. Lovina only looked up at him, waiting.

With a small breath, he withdrew his hand and turned back toward Roderich and Elizabeta, who were still regarding him with puzzled looks.

Roderich even became vocal about it. "Who are you whispering to behind yourself like that?" he asked, tilting his head slightly in confusion.

Gilbert didn’t bother answering. Instead, he gestured toward the brunet and said, "You asked why I didn’t go straight home, why I came here instead..."

Roderich looked mildly irritated that his own question was brushed aside, but he gave a nod nonetheless. "Mhm."

"Well," the albino continued, trying to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t sure where to even begin, there was simply too much to explain. And, realizing he was far too exhausted to piece together a neat, thought-out answer, he gave up on trying.
"It’s kind of hard to explain, so I’ll just..." he admitted, trailing off as he abruptly turned around, motioning for the figure behind him to step forward.

There was a brief pause, and then, reluctantly, the figure stepped out.

And honestly? Gilbert wasn’t even sure what he had expected: reactions, questions, something at the very least! But what could certainly be said was that he hadn’t anticipated this kind of silence. Not since he’d first shared his plan to bring Lovina here with Emma and Antonio. (It gave him a strange sense of déjà vu.)

The room fell completely still as Lovina stepped out, her face uncertain as she glanced between the Emperor and Empress. Still, she made the effort to be respectful, slowly curtsying before stepping back, moving closer to Gilbert’s side.

Roderich and Elizabeta stood frozen, more like the statues one might find in a museum. Eyes wide, postures stiff, they simply stared at the girl now standing quietly beside the Germanic king, as if the very sight of her had kicked every thought from their heads, leaving them completely blank.

The weight of the silence pressed down on Gilbert, almost physically. It was just like back in Spain…! And just as uncomfortable. He let out a nervous chuckle, trying to break the tension, and offered a quiet, unsure: “Surprise...?”

Though… that didn’t help. Not by a long shot.

The royal couple still remained speechless, and Gilbert, despite how drained he felt, forced himself to think of something, anything, to say. He had to get them talking again. More silence would’ve absolutely killed him…

But… thankfully (or maybe not, depending on how you look at it, considering what happened next), that worry didn’t last long. Because Roderich, at last, opened his mouth. And, well… remember how I said more silence would’ve killed Gilbert? Well… his cousin’s reaction might just do the job faster… Because when the Emperor finally spoke, it wasn’t calm. It wasn’t collected. It wasn’t remotely helpful, not in the way Gilbert had hoped.

No.

Roderich… screamed.

(As if Gilbert hadn’t had enough of that already.)

"Gilbert... are you INSANE?"

Roderich’s voice cut through the air, full of fury, echoing down the grand hallway four, if not five times before finally fading into silence.

Around them, the gathered attendants—Austrian, Hungarian, and a few Germans from Gilbert’s side—stiffened where they stood, frozen by the sheer volume of the Emperor’s outburst. Not a single one of them dared to speak or even move.

Lovina didn’t understand a word of the German hurled at Gilbert, but she didn’t need a translation to grasp the fury behind it. Her brows knitted together, and without a word, she stepped closer to the Prussian—or rather, behind him again—and lightly latched onto the fabric of his cloak. Gilbert glanced down at her, worry carving itself into his expression as he caught the furrow of her brow and the unease written across her face, those eyes of hers nearly piercing straight through him with how troubled they looked…

And just when he thought this couldn’t get any worse…

"Gilbert," she whispered, her voice low, the look in her eyes refusing to soften. "Your cousin... I do not like him."

For Gilbert, the confession hit like a blow to the gut, the kind you take in a fight that knocks the breath clean out of you, leaves you doubled over, clutching yourself in pain. Except.. he didn’t topple over. He just stood there, his heart sinking fast. He had told himself he wouldn't let this girl feel sadness, sorrow, or anything close to despair again, not if he could help it. Yet now she looked burdened, and the look on her face tore at him in a way no injury ever had…

His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as a surge of fury toward his cousin took him by surprise. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn't help but think—no, tell himself—how dare Roderich make Lovina feel uneasy? That pompous little... He couldn’t even finish the thought. The urge to punch him right in the face, knock those damn glasses off him, flared up so suddenly that it made his hands tighten into fists. He'd been irritated with Roderich before—there were only so many times a man could be prissy—but this felt different. It wasn't just the frustration of something Roderich had done to him, but the fact that he'd troubled Lovina. And God help him, he wouldn’t stand for that. She had been through enough: losing her kingdom, her family…

(And maybe he also felt this angry because… well, he loved her. And when you love someone, as the saying goes, you'd kill for them. Not that Gilbert would actually kill his cousin—he did care about him, and he was family! He'd just... rattle him a bit.)

Abruptly, he turned toward his cousin, not even sure what he wanted to do. Punch him? Fire back with words? But it seemed Roderich’s rant wasn’t over yet; before Gilbert could act, it continued, cutting him off...

"Do you want war banging on our door?!" the Emperor snapped, gesturing sharply to himself and his wife as he continued his furious tirade. "You know things aren't exactly favorable for us right now! (This was mentioned before, but for those who’ve forgotten: "unfavorable" meaning that most Hungarian and Austrian nobles, and much of the lower classes, aren't too happy about this new Latin territory (Northern Italy) joining their empire. It has nothing to do with their culture or traditions, so they don't agree with it being placed under their Emperor’s sovereignty.) Why did you bring the other sister here?! How did you even—" He faltered for a breath before plowing on. "Does Antonio even know?! Why do you always act without thinking?! Do you have any idea how bad this could look for my Empire? Do you want people believing we're about to seize the entire Italian territory from Spain by force?! Seriously, Gilbert, what was going through that thick skull of yours?!"

And Roderich might have gone on, and on, and on, if no one stepped in. But Gilbert had honestly reached his limit. He cut the brunet off, not with the calm, rational tone he'd used earlier to smooth things over, but with one that matched Roderich’s intensity, though not quite as loud. He didn’t want the girl behind him thinking of him the same way she now thought of Roderich. Now that would feel like a real blow to the gut, one that might actually knock him off his feet…

"Would you stop yelling already?!" he exclaimed, his voice cutting enough to finally catch Roderich off guard. His cousin stared at him, momentarily stunned that he had matched his tone, his mouth pressing into a thin line, likely in disbelief.

So, the Prussian pressed on. "Can't you see your tantrum is making her uncomfortable?!"

Only then did Roderich—and Elizabeta too, who had been quietly watching the argument between her husband and friend (well, mostly her husband screaming his lungs out, but you get the point)—finally glance at the girl tucked behind Gilbert. To be fair, Elizabeta did somewhat side with her husband; after all, political instability was a ruler’s worst nightmare.

But now that the whole "former eldest Italian princess is uncomfortable because of his yelling" situation had been brought into the light, she found herself viewing things with a bit more... objectiveness. She stared at Lovina, just as Roderich did, and only then did they both realize Gilbert's words were true. Just a glance at her body language made it rather clear… she was uncomfortable.

They took a moment to mull it over, Roderich falling silent (perhaps the man had finally found a shred of empathy or something). Either way, their sudden realization worked in Gilbert’s favor, buying him the moment of silence he needed to finally respond to the mess of accusations thrown his way.

"No, Roderich, war will not be banging on your door," he said flatly, pointing at him before moving right down the list of accusations. "I brought her here so she could see her sister. That’s it."
Next.
"I got Toni’s approval. Emma’s too. In fact, they both encouraged me to do this."
He paused for a second, letting the words sink in before continuing.
"And I did use my head," he added, shooting Roderich a pointed look. "Two months isn’t long enough to stir up any political nonsense. Your Empire will be fine. Your people will be fine."
With that finally said, he cleared his throat and shot his cousin an even sharper glare. "I was going to explain all of that, eventually, but someone decided to start screaming first."

At last, the Prussian let out a long, weary sigh, like he’d been holding it in for far too long. God, I’m so drained, he thought. I haven’t slept properly in... I don’t even know how long.

Both Roderich and Elizabeta stared at him, clearly taken aback by his explanations. Their eyes shifted between Gilbert and the girl still half-hidden behind him, back and forth in silence—until, at last, Roderich opened his mouth to speak…

"Are you—"

Thankfully, his wife cut in before he could let anything else cruel slip out.

“Drága,” (Dear,) she said gently, placing a hand on his arm, “let’s not press with any more questions right now, hm? We can talk about all this tomorrow, after some rest. And preferably not while the former princess is standing right here, seeing it all…”

She gestured subtly toward Lovina, then offered her husband a soft, encouraging smile. “Gilbert is right. You’ve made her rather uncomfortable.”

And Roderich, being Roderich, never did go against Elizabeta’s words. Not when she spoke like that…

With a sigh, he ran a tired hand over his face, then readjusted his glasses. “Alright. You’re right. I’m sorry. There were just… too many things I wasn’t told, all piling up, and I hate being left in the dark when—”

"I know, drága," (dear,) she cut in again, giving him a gentle pat on the chest. "But let’s not startle our guests any more than we already have. Alright?"

That seemed to do the trick. Roderich finally let himself calm down, exhaling in defeat. "Alright.” he muttered, earning a small, proud smile from his beloved.
Gilbert was just as relieved to see his cousin back down, mentally thanking Lizzy for her power when it came to reining him in, and for simply tolerating him, really. Honestly, Gilbert didn’t think any other woman could’ve managed it…

With the tension finally subsiding, the Empress stepped away from her husband and approached Gilbert, leaning slightly to peer past him. Her gaze met the skeptical stare of the Italian girl hiding behind him, and she couldn’t help but offer a warm smile.

"She looks so much like her sister!" Elizabeta said with a spark of delight, before glancing at Gilbert. "What languages does she speak?"

"You can talk to her in English," he replied, offering a small, tired smile. "She understands it, and speaks it pretty well."

The Empress nodded and turned her full attention to Lovina, switching to English. "Your name is Lovina, isn’t it? Your sister talks about you all the time!"

At that, Lovina didn’t respond, still eyeing her with wary caution. Gilbert leaned in slightly and murmured, “It’s alright. Elizabeta doesn’t bite. Well… not always,” he added with a chuckle.

That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of the Italian’s mouth. After a brief pause, she finally stepped out from behind him and dipped her head respectfully to the Empress.

Elizabeta’s smile softened. “Not very talkative, hm? Is it because of my husband?” she asked lightly. Then she raised her hand, as if about to whisper a secret, though her voice carried just the same. “Please excuse him, he gets a little prickly at such hours!”

Lovina’s eyes flicked toward the Emperor, who continued to regard her with a stern gaze, before shifting back to the Empress. “What is… ‘prickly’?” she asked quietly.

Elizabeta gave a soft laugh. “It means irritated,” she explained. “He gets easily irritated.”

“I do not!” came Roderich’s defensive voice from behind them. No one replied though, mostly because no one believed him.

At that, the Italian girl nodded, glancing from Gilbert to the Empress and back again. After a moment’s hesitation, she lightly tapped Gilbert on the forearm, then gestured for him to crouch down. He looked puzzled but complied without question, bending to meet her at eye level.

Lovina cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered in his ear, her voice barely audible: “Can I see my sister now?”

Gilbert blinked—first surprised by the softness of her voice, and then by the realization that he had forgotten, for the third time, to tell Roderich and Elizabeta about that! Seriously, Gil, get a grip. I know you’re tired, but still! Oh well, third time’s the charm...

When Lovina pulled away, he gave her a slow nod, then shifted his gaze to Elizabeta, who was watching with a faintly puzzled expression, no doubt wondering about the girl’s strangely secretive behavior.

“Lizzy,” he began, his voice a little more serious now, and Elizabeta seemed to pick up on that at once. “Like I said before… Lovina’s here to reunite with her sister. And I don’t want her to wait another minute. Please, could you call for Feliciana? They deserve to see each other after so long...”

Elizabeta looked at him with a warm, emphatic expression that said “of course” without needing words. But before she could speak, Roderich—unfortunately (seriously, dude, stop being such a grump)—let out a weary groan and cut in.

“Feliciana is sleeping,” he muttered, rubbing at one temple. “As we all should be right now. She can see her in the morning. Let’s wrap this up. I’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow, and I’m exhausted.”

If Lovina hadn’t been standing right there, Gilbert would’ve smacked his cousin across the head without a second thought. Instead, he held himself back, forcing his tone to remain (mostly) civil.

“No. Not tomorrow. Now.”

“It’s the same thing,” Roderich replied, still rubbing at his temple. “Whether it’s now or in the morning—”

“It’s not the same!” Gilbert snapped, finally out of patience and unable to understand how Roderich could be so utterly devoid of empathy. “She didn’t travel across the continent just to hear ‘tomorrow’! You have no idea how devastated she was before I suggested this trip!” He shot Roderich a hard stare. “Now matters.”

That, finally, seemed to cut through.

Roderich’s expression tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. Even Elizabeta, who had already looked sympathetic, now seemed visibly moved.

“Call for someone to fetch her. Now.” Gilbert added, and this time, it was less a request and more a demand.

Roderich exhaled slowly through his nose. “Don’t order me around.” he muttered, but he turned to one of the attendants anyway and waved them off with a hushed, “Go get her.”

The moment the servant disappeared up the stairs and into the corridor, Gilbert exhaled in relief. He turned back to Lovina with a smile. “Feliciana will be here soon.”

At that, her face lit up, brighter than he’d ever seen it before. It wasn’t like her usual moments of happiness. This was something… how could he put it? More genuine? Was that the right word? Well, whether it was or wasn’t, whether it was joy, relief, or something in between, he couldn’t quite say. But seeing her expression shift made something in his chest ease, and he couldn’t help but feel relieved.

Some time passed in relative peace. Those gathered in the palace’s main hall either busied themselves awaiting the Emperor’s next orders, once the situation with the two Italian sisters was settled, or simply passed the time in quiet conversation or idle standing.

At last, Gilbert managed to exchange a few words with his cousin without either of them resorting to sharp remarks, while Elizabeta kept Lovina company, speaking to her as they waited.

But the calm didn’t last long.

The double doors at the top of the staircase creaked open once more, drawing everyone’s attention immediately. Conversations halted mid-sentence, and all eyes turned upward. Lovina was the first to react—her posture straightened, her gaze fixed on the doorway with hope flickering behind her eyes. Gilbert mirrored that look, just as eager to witness the moment she’d be reunited with her sister at last.

But the figure who emerged from behind the doors wasn’t quite who they’d expected…

Lovina’s brows knitted together, and she tilted her head slightly at the sight of a tall, blond young man, dressed in rumpled sleepwear, his hair tousled as if he’d only just tumbled out of bed. “Who…” she murmured in confusion, the word barely escaping her lips.

But her question was quickly answered when the man beside her let out a surprised exclamation. “Ludwig?!”

And when she heard it, the name clicked instantly as Lovina remembered hearing it more than once from Gilbert since they’d met. So this was his brother, she thought, her gaze studying the younger man.

Gilbert blinked in disbelief, startled by the sight of his younger brother. He knew Ludwig was staying at the palace—he’d read his letter before coming to Austria, and even Roderich had mentioned it—but he hadn’t expected to see him now, in the middle of the night.

“What are you doing awake at this hour?" he asked, surprised. But despite the time and the unexpected meeting, the happiness on his face was impossible to hide. After so long on the road, it felt good, truly good, to see his brother again!

The blond rubbed his eyes, his weary gaze settling on his older sibling. “Some attendants told me you were here… that I should come greet you…” he mumbled, stifling a yawn as he descended the stairs. “I was skeptical at first. I could’ve sworn you were headed straight home after Spain.”

Still, he approached Gilbert and gave his shoulder a few tired pats. “It’s good to see you, brother.”

From where he stood, Roderich raised an eyebrow at the unexpected turn. “I thought I sent someone to call Lovina’s sister, not Gilbert’s brother…” he muttered to his wife.

“I think our other attendants decided to summon him too,” Elizabeta replied, glancing between the brothers. “Since Gilbert arrived, it probably made sense to them.” Her husband gave a small nod, accepting the explanation.

Despite the exhaustion tugging at him, Gilbert grinned and pulled Ludwig into a tight embrace. “Come on, greet me properly while you’re at it, won’t you?” he said with a teasing tone.

Ludwig squirmed, already regretting his decision to leave his room. “You’re suffocating me…” he muttered, voice strained against the grip.

Eventually, Gilbert released him, though not without laughing. “Sorry, I’ve just missed you—it’s been forever!”

“It hasn’t even been two months.” Ludwig replied matter-of-factly, which only made his brother grin wider.

Gilbert reached out and ruffled the blond’s already messy hair. “I swear I’ve told you this before, but with your hair like this, you kinda look more like me.”

Ludwig swatted his hand away and tried to smooth his hair back down, to little effect. “That’s why I don’t wear it like this.” he mumbled, though there was no bite in his tone.

“Ouch!” Gilbert replied with a playful wince, clearly more amused than offended.

Ludwig continued fussing with his hair, trying in vain to make it resemble something presentable. But he suddenly froze when his eyes landed on the somewhat familiar girl standing beside his brother. He blinked—once, twice—then narrowed his gaze, puzzled.

“Feliciana…?” he asked, eyeing her from head to toe. “Why are you awake at this hour? And dressed like you’ve been outside? And…” He squinted, trying to shake off the sleep still clinging to his brain. “Maybe I’m just too tired, but… is your hair darker? And your eyes… they seem greener?”

The girl offered no response, only returning his stare with one just as confused.

But Gilbert quickly stepped in to clear the air before the situation could spiral further. “Ah, no, no—this isn’t Feliciana,” he said, raising a hand. “This is her older sister, Lovina. It’s a long story, but the short version is: I met her while I was staying with Toni, got his blessing to bring her here, and that’s why I didn’t go straight home. She’s here to reunite with her sister. Oh—and she doesn’t speak German, so she didn’t catch a word you just said.”

Ludwig blinked, eyebrows lifting slightly. The confusion faded, replaced by something more skeptical as he turned back to the girl. “Huh. Yeah… sounds like a long story,” he said slowly, then added, “Her older sister, though? Isn’t it a bit politically unstable for her to be here right now…?”

The Prussian groaned, already tired of hearing that exact same concern on loop. “Not you too,” he muttered, exasperated. “It’s just for two months—it won’t cause any political upheaval, I promise…!”

And he might have gone on, given that his brother didn’t look entirely convinced, if not for the sudden noise that interrupted him. The doors at the top of the stairs swung open for the fourth time that night—or perhaps it was early morning by now—and once again, every eye in the room turned toward them. And this time, the King realized, it was her. At last, the one they had all been waiting for appeared: the younger Italian former princess, Feliciana.

She stepped into view dressed much like Elizabeta, in nothing more than a nightgown and a robe loosely tied around her for modesty. Her hair, though braided in the back, was far less disheveled than the others’, but a few strands stuck out in places. And, just like Lovina, though it was already known by all, she had a strand of hair that stood out more than the rest—though it was on the opposite side of her head compared to her older sister’s.

Feliciana blinked tiredly at the sight before her and, clearly having just woken up, she yawned. “Huh… there’s a lot of people here…” she mumbled in Italian. With the room now quiet, her voice carried down the hall—clearly heard by everyone, though not quite understood by all, as she was speaking Italian.

Upon seeing Feliciana, Gilbert immediately turned his gaze toward Lovina. He watched as her eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth falling open as she became visibly astonished. Without another word, she stepped away from the group and moved toward the bottom of the grand staircase, her eyes still fixed on the girl at the top who seemed like the spitting image of her, save for a few small differences.

But it wasn’t only Lovina who was rendered silent. Feliciana, too, was struck with shock. Upon seeing her sister, the same sister she had believed to be far away in Spain, standing before her, the sleepiness drained from her face. Her eyes grew wide, and she stared down at Lovina from the few steps she had remained on. “Mia sorella maggiore...?” (My older sister...?) The words escaped her in a daze, her disbelief turning into an emotional expression as she sniffled, rubbing her eyes as if she couldn’t quite believe the reality in front of her. “Che strano sogno...” (What a strange dream...) she murmured, her incredulity lingering as she tried to convince herself that this wasn’t real.

But it was real. Lovina, now with tears welling in her eyes, climbed up a few steps, never once breaking eye contact with her little sister. Her voice cracked when she spoke, though she couldn’t bring herself to care about that now. “Questo non è un sogno, stupida sorellina…!” (This is not a dream, stupid little sister…!) Her words might have sounded harsh, but the affection and relief in her voice made any harshness seem invisible.

And those words, and the way they were said, made Feliciana realize this wasn’t a dream. Her sister was truly standing before her. She couldn’t take her eyes off Lovina, and as they remained locked on her, they began to fill with tears. It wasn’t long before she broke down completely, crying even harder than her sister had. "Sorella…" she whispered, taking a few tentative steps forward—then, unable to hold back any longer, she rushed toward Lovina.

Lovina hurried up the steps, lifting her dress and leaping two at a time as she cried out, “Feliciana!”
The two sisters met halfway, crashing into each other’s arms. They clung together, weeping just as they had on the day they were separated.

“Sorella, you’re… here!” Feliciana sobbed. “When did you… how—how did you get here?” Her words tumbled out between tears, half-formed and breathless. “I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too!” Lovina choked out, overwhelmed with emotion. “Those stupid Austrian officials blocked my letters—yours too! I sent so many, I swear!” She pulled back just enough to look at her sister’s face. “How did you even survive in this awful place?” she asked with a small, amused chuckle, though tears were still spilling uncontrollably from her eyes.

“I don’t even know!” Feliciana cried, though a soft laugh escaped her too, as she buried her face against her sister’s shoulder—most likely soaking the fabric of her cloak with tears. “But… I’m so happy you’re here, Lovina…”

The older Italian girl placed a hand on the back of her sister’s head and held her close again, letting out a mumbled breath. “Me too, Feliciana… Me too…” There was a soft crack in her voice—relief, joy, and definitely the crying—but she didn’t care. As they stayed in each other’s arms a while longer, all she could think was, Thank God—that her sister was safe, that they were together again… and that she could finally savor the feeling of being reunited after so long.

Everyone else watched the touching scene unfold in the large main hall. The attendants and guards couldn’t help but be captivated by the heartfelt family reunion. Even Roderich, who’d been on edge up until this point, seemed to let go of his irritation. A surprisingly gentle look crossed his face, paired with an almost imperceptible smile. He clearly cared about the girls’ well-being in his own way, he just didn’t show it often. In contrast to his reserved reaction, Elizabeta beamed with joy. And she wasn’t afraid to show it, clasping her hands together as she watched the two former princesses embrace, her expression almost maternal. Even Ludwig, though somewhat removed from the emotion of it all, wore a soft expression. After all, he had heard firsthand from the younger Italian princess just how deeply the two of them had longed to be together again.

However, unlike all the others, Gilbert felt something entirely different… a strange kind of peace. From a distance, he watched Lovina laugh through tears—happy tears, no doubt—and a deep feeling of accomplishment settled over him. As if he’d won something. But it wasn’t that he’d won anything in the usual sense... it just felt like it. Or maybe he had… because when Lovina suddenly glanced his way, joy still lighting her face, almost as if to silently thank him, his heart stuttered. He couldn’t get enough of that beautiful, sincere smile of hers. And in that moment, he realized he may have actually won something after all: her trust, maybe even her admiration… and perhaps that was one of his greatest achievements yet…

She quickly turned back to her sister, but even so, the rapid beating of his heart didn’t subside. He lingered on her with his eyes, a look like no other he’d ever worn gracing his features. It was a good thing Lizzy, Roderich, and Ludwig were all too focused on the scene themselves—otherwise, they might’ve thought he’d gone mad, judging by the way he was now staring at Lovina…

Once Lovina and Feliciana finally calmed down, no longer crying uncontrollably, Roderich cleared his throat and announced that, with the emotional reunion out of the way, they would resume discussing Gilbert’s surprise visit tomorrow. It was already well past a reasonable hour, and he insisted everyone should retire to their chambers for the night.

Ludwig, never one to argue, nodded and told his brother they’d talk more the following day. Strangely enough, he also wished Feliciana a good night in a manner that felt… unusually personal, if not outright intimate, (not that he did anything out of line, it was just the way he said it...) raising a few eyebrows. Still, Gilbert, too exhausted to dwell on the odd gesture, simply watched as Ludwig ascended the stairs, presumably heading to his own guest room.

Roderich, meanwhile, turned to Feliciana, gently urging her to head to bed as well. He tried to ease her mind by promising to arrange for a room near hers to be given to her older sister. But the younger Italian princess, with a determined and pleading look, insisted on sharing her room with Lovina. She pleaded in German with the Emperor until he finally gave in. Triumphant, Feliciana took Lovina by the hand and led her up the stairs toward the hallway that led to her room, chatting away in Italian about things Gilbert could barely catch a word of…

Yet, just before disappearing into the corridor, Lovina turned her head. Her eyes found his, and she gave a small wave and a smile, silently mouthing in English, “See you tomorrow.” Gilbert, already quite smitten, waved back, his smile lingering even after she was gone.

Turning his attention back to Roderich, the Prussian saw his cousin giving instructions to the staff—arranging rooms for his attendants and guards, and preparing one for him as well. After giving a few final orders, Roderich turned his gaze to him and made some kind of gesture that Gilbert had to assume was meant to be positive, though he couldn’t be entirely sure, before promptly turning back to tell his wife they ought to head upstairs to bed.

Before they departed, Elizabeta looked Gilbert’s way with a warm smile and wished him goodnight, a gesture that stood in stark contrast to her husband's peculiar way of showing he cared. Gilbert returned the sentiment, and with that, the couple went ahead to their room, flanked by their own entourage.

Gilbert was soon left alone in the main hallway with a handful of Austrian attendants. A sudden wave of overwhelming drowsiness washed over him, and feeling as though he might collapse at any moment, he instructed them to lead him to the room Roderich had so kindly assigned him. Without delay, they guided him up the grand staircase, down a long hallway, then through another, taking a series of lefts and rights until they finally arrived at a room that was far too extravagant for its own good.

Once inside, the attendants helped him into his nightclothes. After assisting him, they excused themselves, leaving him alone in the quiet room, at last, to sleep.

The moment his head hit the pillow, exhaustion took over. Unlike other nights, when his mind would race with overthinking, tonight there was no energy for it. Despite the lingering thoughts that could have kept him awake, he was simply too tired. In an instant, he slipped into a deep, blissful unconsciousness…

.
.
.

Unlike the very exhausted Prussian king, the tired prince, or the Austro-Hungarian royals, there were two girls who were anything but sleepy, even as the sky began to hint at morning. They were still wide awake and chatting as though it were the middle of the day. (Perhaps because Lovina had napped during the carriage ride, and Feliciana had only just woken up.)

“Ah, sorella, I’ve missed this so much! Talking at night like we used to!” Feliciana said as she shuffled closer on the bed, smiling brightly. She was already in her nightgown, and Lovina now wore one too—Austrian in style, just like hers.

When Feliciana had brought her sister to the room, she’d asked a few attendants for help in finding a spare nightgown, since Lovina’s handmaid and the German staff who had accompanied her had already been shown to their designated rooms, courtesy of the Austrian Emperor.

With the attendants dismissed and Lovina now changed out of her travel clothes, the two were left alone to rest. But rest wasn’t exactly on their minds. How could it be, when they’d just reunited after half a year apart? Moments like this didn’t come often. So, instead of sleeping, they talked. About everything. Especially about how Lovina had managed to even make it to Austria in the first place.

“Yeah… me too,” the older girl replied, adjusting a few pillows behind her and settling back more comfortably against the headboard. She let out a small huff. “It gets so lonely. How do only children survive?”

“That’s something I’ve never even thought about!” Feliciana admitted with a blink, though she quickly moved on to more pressing questions. “But never mind that, sorella—you have to tell me… how is it even possible that you’re…” she gestured around the room with an exaggerated sweep of her arms, “here! I mean, after what happened… Mr. Roderich was very strict with me! He said I couldn’t set foot in Spain without him, and that you couldn’t set foot in Austria without the Spanish Emperor’s approval, because of politics and all that!” She pointed at Lovina now, a look of wonder on her face. “But you came here alone!”

At that, the dark brunette shook her head firmly and corrected her. “No, not alone, dummy! I couldn’t even if I wanted to…” Her eyes dropped to her hands, and she fidgeted with them for a moment before adding, “Gilbert… he brought me here. You know him, right? He said you know him, and his brother too…”

The younger Italian girl blinked, surprised. “Gilbert?” she echoed. “As in… the King of the Germanic Nation? Ludwig’s big brother?”

“Uh-huh.” Lovina nodded.

“He brought you?” Feliciana pressed on, her disbelief mounting. But when Lovina gave another small nod, confirming it was true, Feliciana’s surprise melted into amazement. She clasped her hands together and beamed. “Oh, wow! I knew he was a nice guy, but this really paints him in a whole new light for me!” she exclaimed, earning a small snort from her older sister. “But—“ she added quickly, as if not all her questions had been answered, “how did you meet him? And how did you convince him to do this?” She scooted closer, eyes filled with curiosity.

Lovina stood still for a moment, mulling over her sister’s questions. But, really, there wasn’t much to think about… their meeting hadn’t been anything too complicated to explain. So she gave her answer.

“I met him in Spain. He came to see the Spanish Emperor for some reason… something about offering congratulations or something…”
She paused, then added, “At first, I thought he was a strange bastard because he looked… weird.” She made a vague gesture with her hands, like someone trying to scare a child. “Like a vampire!”

At that, Feliciana let out a small, amused laugh. “Pfft, you shouldn’t judge people based on appearances, sorella!”

“But wait, don’t come at me for that, because I changed my mind after!” Lovina retorted, now looking up at her sister.

The younger Italian tilted her head to the side. “You did?”

Lovina nodded vigorously. “Yeah… after a while he, well… he started being really nice to me. He kept trying to talk to me even though, at the time, I didn’t speak English very well, and it’s not like I speak it too good now…”

“You’ve been learning English? Me too!” Feliciana cut in enthusiastically.

“Don’t interrupt me!” Lovina snapped back, though without any real anger.

Feliciana just laughed softly. “Sorry! Go on!”

With a just a little bit annoyed expression, the older girl pressed on. “As I was saying… he kept trying to talk to me because, I don’t know… he somehow managed to see that I was not the happiest back there… and how I really missed you… and you know, he wrote me letters.”

“Letters?” the light brunette let out as she blinked in surprise.

“In italian.” Lovina completed with a small nod.

“Italian?!” Feliciana exclaimed in surprise as she brought a hand to her face. “But Gilbert barely knows two words, if even that!”

“Well, he did write to me in Italian…!” Lovina went on, furrowing her brows in an attempt to look more serious. “…Using a dictionary, the dork…”
She let out a small, amused laugh. That alone was enough to pique Feliciana’s curiosity even more. Lovina didn’t laugh like that, soft and fond, especially not when talking about other people. She didn’t even like most people. So what did this mean?

“…But even so,” she continued, her tone softening. “He was just… so kind. And even after that…”
A faint smile curved her lips, subtle, more to herself than to anyone else, but Feliciana caught it.

“You asked me how I managed to convince him… Well, I didn’t,” she admitted. “It was his idea. He’s the one who decided to bring me here to see you, sorella. Him. I didn’t expect that at all… And even while we were traveling—he’s been so… nice. I just…” She trailed off, her hands moving to her hair as she untied the dark red headpiece she’d been wearing every day since Gilbert had given it to her. Holding it gently in her hands, she brought it forward for Feliciana to see, still wearing that soft, lingering smile.

“He got this for me…” she said quietly.

Feliciana looked at the ribbon in surprise. But after a closer glance, she furrowed her brows in confusion. “A piece of fabric…?”

Lovina quickly shook her head, frowning in disapproval. “No! It’s not just a piece of fabric, it’s for your hair! Didn’t you see me wearing it this whole time?”

“Ahh,” Feliciana replied with a sheepish nod. “I did, but… it didn’t really catch my eye. It’s quite simple for a headpiece, after all…”

“Well, he got it from a French market. In a village…” the dark brunette muttered, almost defensively.

“A village?” Feliciana echoed, more surprised now. She looked at the headpiece again, then back at her sister. Slowly, a teasing grin crept across her face. “Oh wow, I never took you for the modest type, sorella! Have you really changed that much these past few months?”

That earned her an immediate glare from Lovina, who pursed her lips. “I’ve always been modest, Feliciana! And I know it’s simple and plain, but I like it, all right?” she snapped, hugging the ribbon a little closer to her chest.

Feliciana, sensing there was more, leaned in and asked softly: “Why?”

And it wouldn’t have been unusual for Lovina to refuse to answer, to snap at her and tell her to mind her own business, that it didn’t concern her. That was just how she was, at least from what Feliciana remembered. But… strangely enough, Lovina didn’t react that way this time. She didn’t bristle or turn away. Instead, she just had this look in her eyes… one Feliciana had never seen before…

“Because…” Lovina suddenly said, her voice low with hesitation, just for a moment, before she pressed on. “Gilbert got it for me.”
And she sounded certain. Completely certain, as if that alone explained everything.

If Feliciana hadn’t known any better, she might have brushed it off. But she did know better. She knew her sister. And it was in the way Lovina said it, quiet but convinced, that something clicked. Slowly, Feliciana began to piece together what kind of impression Gilbert truly left on her…

“He told me he thought of me when he saw it, and I just…”
Lovina’s voice trailed off, like she was only now beginning to realize what she felt herself.

“I felt like…”
She stopped again.

All at once, her face turned warm—strangely, disarmingly warm—and her heart picked up a pace she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. And maybe it showed, maybe it softened her expression more than she meant it to, because it didn’t go unnoticed…

Feliciana let out a loud gasp, her eyes lighting up. “Sorella!” she exclaimed, startling the older girl. She took in Lovina’s expression—soft, distracted, a little dazed—and suddenly, everything made sense. That look… Feliciana had no doubts anymore.

“You… do you like Gilbert?!”

Lovina jolted like she’d been struck, eyes wide in alarm. “Like?!” she repeated, voice jumping an octave. She looked genuinely shocked, as if she couldn’t believe the accusation. But the sudden, hard thud of her heart didn’t help her case. “Feliciana, what—what are you even talking about?!”

Like? Seriously? Who just tossed labels around like that? Her thoughts spun as her cheeks burned hotter than they had seconds ago. Yet, before she could untangle the sudden rush of warmth flooding her face, she decided to defend her case, (though there wasn’t much to explain; her reaction had already made the truth pretty obvious) “I just—! I think he’s a good man, that’s all! He’s been… kind, and generous, and he’s done a lot for me and I—well—”

She stammered, only to be met with a string of giggles from her sister, who clearly wasn’t buying a word of it.

“Oh, come on!” Lovina huffed, flustered. “He’s a good friend to have and—maybe I also think he’s—uh—well, I guess you could say he’s…”

But the words slowed and faltered, tangling in her throat as if turning on her the moment she tried to say them.

And then she paused. The younger girl’s giggles faded too as she tilted her head, raising a brow at Lovina’s sudden silence. She noticed the way her sister puffed her cheeks, her expression shifting—thoughtful now, almost conflicted.

Lovina's mind lingered on what Feliciana had just said about her liking Gilbert. Maybe she wouldn’t have given those words a second thought, if they hadn’t rung so undeniably… true. She did like Gilbert. No, she’d never admitted, not to herself, not to anyone, but deep down, she had known for quite some time. He stood out from the others she’d met… and it wasn’t just a passing interest…

Slowly, almost unconsciously, she raised a hand to her cheek. Her palm met the warmth blooming there, an obvious sign she couldn’t ignore. Then, with a short breath, she glanced down at the headpiece in her other hand, watching it for just a second before her eyes flicked back up to Feliciana. Everything inside her was spinning, tangled up in emotions she’d tried to bury. And no matter how much she wanted to deny it, there was only so much a girl could bottle up before it burst out.

“Ah, fine! You’re right!” she blurted, shaking her head furiously as if she could physically shake the thoughts away, fling them off like… like water! She hated this, hated admitting things, especially when they felt so embarrassing…!

Feliciana jumped, startled. “Ah?! Sorella, what are you doing?!”

“I don’t know!” Lovina exclaimed, still rattling her head. But after a few seconds, she stopped, realizing how pointless it was. Her hands dropped limply to her sides as she stared at her sister, eyes wide, like she’d just stumbled upon a terrible truth about herself… but that wasn’t quite it as she’d already known it… she just hadn’t wanted to face it.

“Uh…? Lovina, are you—?” Feliciana reached out gently, pressing a hand to her sister’s forehead. The moment she felt the heat radiating off her skin, she recoiled, flustered. “Wah! You’re burning up! Are you sick?!”

Lovina swatted her hand away with a sharp breath, then exhaled even slower, like she was trying to push the words out with it.

“Feliciana,” she said at last, her voice tight, edged with something that made her sister freeze mid-motion.

She opened her mouth, hesitated. For a moment, nothing came. But the words followed anyway, because now that she’d started, there was no going back…

“I do like him. Ah, God—I like Gilbert!”

And immediately, she threw her hands over her face, hiding behind them as if she could somehow disappear. Mortified didn’t even come close to how she felt. She wanted to sink into the ground, vanish entirely, because admitting things, especially this kind of thing, wasn’t something she ever did willingly. But apparently, even silence hadn’t helped. Her sister had caught her red-handed anyway…

Across from her, the light brunette lit up like the sunrise.

She squealed with delight, bounced where she sat, and immediately shuffled closer, throwing her arms around her older sister. Pulling Lovina into a warm, tight hug, she gently cupped the back of her head. “Ah, don’t be embarrassed, sorella maggiore! (big sister!) Feeling this way about someone is wonderful!”

Lovina didn’t answer right away. The embarrassment still clung to her, heavy and hot… but little by little, it began to ease. Not vanish entirely, but shift. What was left behind wasn’t quite calm, but something quieter… something closer to acceptance. Her sister’s voice, her touch, her words, they were softening the sharp edges of her mortification, settling the… weirdness inside her just enough to breathe.

And Feliciana didn’t let go. Instead, she leaned back just enough to see her sister’s face, her smile gentle and knowing. “From what I know about Gilbert… and from everything you just told me he’s done for you… he really is a great guy. Honestly, I’d be shocked if you didn’t catch feelings for him!”

A soft giggle slipped out of her as she rested her head against Lovina’s, just like they used to do so often back home. “It makes me so happy to see you happy.”

Lovina had finally begun to calm down, her breathing steadying as she focused on the rhythm of her heart. It was still beating too fast, much too fast, but not in a way that made her uneasy. It was… pleasant, almost. Happy. And it reminded her of a moment she couldn’t quite forget.

Her gaze fell to the dark red headpiece resting in her lap, and she picked it up. She held it delicately, almost like she was afraid to tear it, just like she had when he first gave it to her. Even then, her heart had pounded just like this. Gilbert had looked her straight in the eye and said he thought of her when he saw it… and her face had gone warm in a way that made no sense for such a simple comment.

But that hadn’t been the only time. There had been other moments, too—quiet ones, small ones—when she hadn’t even understood what it was she was feeling…

Like the time she’d gone to his room just to thank him for everything he’d done. She’d planned to give him a kiss on the cheek—nothing unusual, the kind that came naturally between close friends or family back in Italy. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything more. Just… respect. Gratitude.

But the moment she’d reached his door, something in her faltered. Her steps slowed. Her confidence wavered. Why had she hesitated? She hadn’t known then. And before she could sort it out, the door opened.

So she’d pushed through the awkwardness, pretending nothing was off. She sat on his bed like she’d meant to, said what she came to say. Everything had gone to plan, until she leaned in for the kiss. That same strange flutter stirred in her chest again. Her stomach turned. Her face grew hot. But still… she did it. She kissed his cheek.

And whatever feelings had been quietly brewing inside her, suddenly multiplied.

That was why she’d left so quickly after. Too quickly. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, she’d pressed her palms to her cheeks and felt the heat burning there. Her heart hadn’t calmed for minutes. She hadn’t let herself think too hard about it at the time. She told herself she was tired. Overwhelmed. Maybe just… moved.
But those feelings hadn’t gone away.

They kept coming back.

Every time Gilbert did something absurdly kind. Every time he flashed that easy grin of his, like nothing in the world could ever bother him… not even if the sky came crashing down. It always threw her off, made her feel things she didn’t know what to do with.

Even now, her eyes drifted back to the headpiece in her hand… cheap, simple. Not something she would’ve looked at twice before. Never. She wasn’t the type to settle for such plain things…

And yet… she couldn’t let go of it.

Because it came from him.

God, she thought. She’d rather wear this plain red ribbon than some diamond-encrusted royal heirloom. (Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic… but still! The point stood.)

"I feel so stupid..." Lovina muttered under her breath, letting out a small, defeated sigh. How had it come to this? How did she, of all people, fall head over heels for a German guy? German! She'd never liked the Germanic kingdoms or empires! Their stiff culture, their strange food, their uptight people. She had sworn to herself she'd never, ever fancy anyone from such a country.

And yet… here she was. Oof. How hypocritical.

But it seemed her younger sister didn’t share that view. That was just like Feliciana. Even after nearly a year apart, Lovina realized with a small ache that her sister hadn’t changed one bit, still the same warm, joyful soul she always had been.

"No, no, loving someone doesn’t make you stupid, Lovina!" Feliciana said brightly, shaking her head. "On the contrary! Love is what makes you… a person! You don’t choose who you love, it just happens! And you shouldn’t feel ashamed of it! You should really embrace it!"

The dark brunette let out a huff, half frustration, half amusement, and even snorted under her breath. “Easy for you to say,” she muttered. “You don’t know how weird this feels…”

She waited, expecting her sister to jump in, to insist she did understand, even if she hadn’t felt it herself, or at least to say something cheerful to lighten the mood. But instead… Feliciana said nothing.

Not a word.

If Lovina didn’t know her sister so well, she might’ve assumed she was just struggling to find the right thing to say. But she did know her… too well. And because of that… she knew exactly what that silence meant…

Lovina’s eyes widened. She quickly pulled back from the hug, gripping Feliciana by the shoulders and staring at her in sudden alarm.

“Feliciana…!” she hissed, glancing around, even though no one was anywhere near them. “Don’t tell me—”

Feliciana’s hands shot up in front of her, laughing nervously. “I’m sorry, Lovina! I guess… you’re not the only one who finds a German accent charming… haha…” She rubbed the back of her head, nervous. “But unlike you, I’m not really into red eyes and white hair. I’m more of a blond hair and blue eyes kind of girl…”

Lovina blinked. “German accent… blond hair… blue eyes…?” she repeated slowly. And then it hit her… the only person she’d seen earlier who matched that description and had acted oddly around her sister was… Gilbert’s younger brother. Ludwig.

Feliciana let out a soft giggle and smiled warmly. “Looks like we’ve got a lot of catching up to do, sorella!”

Lovina just stared, a sudden dizziness settling over her. Apparently… they both had a thing for Germans now.

God help them.

Chapter Text

Morning came far too quickly, especially since Gilbert had gone to bed at… well, he wasn’t exactly sure. Sometime between four and maybe even five in the morning? Yeah, somewhere around there. Still, even though the sun had risen by seven, the white-haired king didn’t stir from his bed for another four hours. He slept like a bear in deep hibernation, oblivious to the knocks at his door: first from his own court, then from Austrian and Hungarian envoys, likely sent by his cousin. The lack of response began to worry both courts. But Roderich and Elizabeta, observing how utterly drained he’d looked the day before—well, technically, earlier that same day—had a hunch he was simply out cold. Trusting their instincts, they left him be and turned to their own duties in the meantime.

The Italian sisters also slept well past the usual hour, perhaps not as long as the Prussian king, but still quite a while. Like with Gilbert, the royal couple chose not to disturb them. Lovina was clearly worn out from the journey, and Feliciana… well, she'd been rather abruptly shaken from sleep the day before, so she probably needed a little extra rest too…

A few rays of sunlight managed to slip through the overcast sky, heavy with clouds shedding so many snowflakes it seemed winter might stretch into spring, perhaps even summer. The pale light crept into the room, soft and quiet, settling across the face of a certain Italian girl still lost in deep sleep.

Lovina stirred, turning away from the light that had begun to pull at her rest. She shifted with a low grumble, slipping back toward drowsiness, her thoughts drifting over unimportant things… until one thought startled her into uneasy wakefulness. Her sister. Had that really happened? Did she actually see her again? Had they made it to Austria already? That last question answered itself as she registered the soft mattress beneath her, far more comfortable than the stiff carriage seats.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinking at the light as she glanced beside her, and sure enough, there lay Feliciana, sound asleep on her back. Her hair was messier than it had been on the staircase, and one hand rested on the pillow as if to keep it from running off. Not that a pillow could run off. It was, after all, just a pillow.

Lovina gazed at her sister’s sleeping form, and a sigh of relief slipped from her lips. She was here. This was real. A soft smile touched her face as she inched a little closer, then paused, deciding that wasn’t quite enough. Pushing herself up just slightly, she flopped down onto Feliciana with the full intention of hugging her.

But Feliciana, still half-lost in her dreams, had forgotten that their reunion wasn’t just another part of one. So when someone suddenly grabbed her in a tight embrace, her eyes flew open and she let out a startled yelp, followed by a panicked scream.

“AHHHHH! I’M BEING KIDNAPPED! HELP! HELP!” she shrieked, thrashing like a frightened animal trying to escape her so-called captor’s grasp.

Lovina furrowed her brows, clearly unimpressed by the reaction to what was meant to be a heartfelt gesture. With an annoyed sigh, she gave her sister a few light pats on the forehead, as if that would knock some sense into her.
“It’s me, idiota!” she said, and only then did the younger girl finally settle down.

Feliciana snapped her head to the left, staring at the girl beside her with wide, disbelieving eyes. For a moment, she just looked at her—silent, stunned—then her face lit up with such joy that, if anyone had been watching closely, they might’ve sworn she sparkled. Without warning, she turned and flung her arms around Lovina in a tight hug, catching her older sister just slightly off guard.

“Wahhhh!!! Sorella, you’re really here!” she exclaimed, her voice full of joy. “I thought I had dreamt all of that! It made me so sad… but now everything’s happy, because it’s real!”

With a wide grin, she grabbed her sister’s head and planted a kiss on the top of it. “Mwah!”

And you know… back in Italy, Lovina would’ve probably pushed her sister away with a grumble like: “Don’t touch me!” her pride too strong to show affection so openly. She never would’ve initiated a hug, either. But after spending so much time without Feliciana, things had changed. The absence had softened her… just enough. And now, holding her sister again after so long, she couldn’t bring herself to let go. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned into the embrace, letting the warmth and relief of having her family back sink in.

Feliciana, just as content, relaxed into the hug and began to hum a soft Italian tune under her breath. It was a song Lovina hadn’t heard in a while. The familiar melody pulled her back to a time when they would play together, Lovina on the piano, Feliciana with her violin, their grandfather listening so attentively. He’d always been so proud of them, no matter what they did… and he made sure they knew it, always smiling their way.

The thought of him brought a dull ache to her chest. He had loved them so much... It was such a shame that his time had ended…

Lovina would’ve likely drifted deeper into nostalgic, melancholic thoughts if it hadn’t been for her sister’s sudden shift and the gentle taps she received on her head.

“What?” she murmured, not yet opening her eyes.

“It’s pretty late,” Feliciana said, lifting her head slowly and turning toward the large window at the side of the room, where light filtered weakly through the thick clouds. “Should we head down and eat something? Are you hungry? ’Cause I know I am.” She let out a small giggle.

Lovina hadn’t really thought about food in her haze of nostalgia, but now that Feliciana mentioned it, she realized she was actually quite famished.
“Mhm,” she hummed in affirmation, then added, “Yeah, we should go ahead and eat.”

The younger girl nodded in response, and with that, they both climbed out of bed.

Lovina brushed the fabric of her nightgown absentmindedly before walking over to the vanity. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the state of her hair in the mirror. It was a mess. With a small frown, she pulled open the vanity drawer and rummaged through its scattered contents. Her fingers brushed against a hairbrush, which she grabbed and began working through the tangled strands.

Feliciana, following her sister’s lead, approached the vanity and began unbraiding her hair, waiting patiently for Lovina to finish with the brush. Once Lovina was done, she took it with a smile and slowly started to untangle her own hair.

As the older girl walked back to the bed and reached for the headpiece she’d left on the night table before falling asleep, the light brunette asked, “Should I call for some attendants to help us out of our nightwear?”

Lovina turned, walking back toward her sister as she tried to tuck the headpiece into her hair. After a few failed attempts at tying the knot and getting it to sit properly, she let out a small sigh of frustration.
“Yeah… I can’t get this to look right by myself…” she admitted.

Feliciana chuckled softly, her attention shifting to the red fabric in her sister’s hands. With a playful huff, she exclaimed, “That’s such a heartfelt gift!” She set down the brush, placed her hands on her cheeks, and gave a dreamy twirl.
“I wish Ludwig would get me something like that…”

At that, Lovina blinked, then immediately began to pester her.
“Speaking of that Ludwig… I’m still not too pleased that he’s the one who stole your heart!” she huffed, crossing her arms in disapproval.

“Eh?” Feliciana spun around with a puzzled look. “But I thought I told you all about him before bed! How sweet and caring he’s been!”

The dark brunette shook her head firmly. “I still don’t see him as a good match for you.”

“But you don’t even know him!” Feliciana argued, only to be met with another stubborn shake of her sister’s head.

“I saw him yesterday, and the way he wished you goodnight… it was weird! Why did he need to single you out like that?”

“Huh? I thought it was sweet! And he singled me out because we’re friends!” Feliciana defended, then jabbed a finger at her sister, puffing out her cheeks.
“And you’re one to talk! How do you think I feel about you being head over heels for— for… you said it yourself! A vampire!”

Lovina’s mouth dropped open in shock. She stared at her sibling, eyes wide, then narrowed them with a scowl.
“Hey! You said he was a nice guy and that you were happy as long as I was happy! And who was the one who said not to judge people based on appearances?!”

At that, Feliciana slapped her hands over her ears and shook her head dramatically. “La-la-la! I can’t hear you!” she said in a childish singsong.

“Feliciana—!” Lovina exclaimed, clearly frustrated, but the annoyance quickly melted away the moment their eyes met. They both froze, staring at each other for a beat... and then suddenly burst into laughter.

“This is just like before!” the younger Italian giggled.

Lovina couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah…”

They hadn’t bickered like this in ages. Some might say sisters shouldn’t argue at all, that they ought to get along, but those people probably don’t have siblings. It’s moments like these, the small squabbles and teasing, that strengthen a sibling bond. And the older Italian girl would’ve been lying if she claimed she hadn’t missed this…

Once they had calmed down, Feliciana called for a few female attendants to help her and her sister get presentable. The women arrived promptly and set to work. Feliciana was dressed in a lovely green gown with long sleeves, and her hair was tied back in a ponytail, just the way she liked it. As for Lovina, her sister lent her one of her own dresses, insisting: 'There’s no time to fetch your luggage now!' It was pink and warm, with long sleeves to suit the winter chill. One of the attendants fastened Lovina’s headpiece and styled her hair, and she was pleased to see it neatly arranged when she looked in the mirror.

“Now, let’s go eat, sorella!” exclaimed the younger former princess as she latched onto her sister’s arm and tugged her out of the room, trailed by their small entourage of Austrian and Hungarian attendants. “Ah, I’m so hungry today! I could eat a whole platter of prosciutto!”

Lovina raised an eyebrow and snorted. “Does this country even have prosciutto?”

“No…” Feliciana sighed, visibly disappointed, though her face lit up almost instantly as she remembered what did exist here. “But they have so many… sweets!” she beamed. Then, with a nervous laugh, she added, “No coffee, though. I haven’t had any in so long…”

Lovina frowned, her hopes dashed. She had expected Austria, unlike Spain, where coffee wasn’t popular either, to at least carry the tradition. But it seemed this empire was just as lacking. With a small huff, she muttered, “This country is far too praised for what it offers.”

Feliciana only smiled and replied: “Perhaps!”

It took the two girls a little while to reach the main dining hall, given how large the palace was. As they walked, Feliciana admitted at one point: “Ah, I hope I’ll be able to see Ludwig!"

Lovina rolled her eyes.

“You know,” the younger girl continued, undeterred, “I was really surprised when he showed up unannounced at Mr. Roderich’s palace! I thought he was taking care of Gilbert’s royal duties back in Germany, especially since he was away!”

Upon hearing that, Lovina glanced at her with a raised brow, pondering the words for a moment. Only now did it truly hit her: if both the king and the second heir, the prince, were away, that left the country without anyone at the top to lead…

“That’s what Gilbert told me too…” she murmured, recalling how the German had mentioned it a few times back in Spain. “That his brother was handling things in his place…” She let out a thoughtful “Hmmm.”

“It’s rather strange that his brother would just abandon those duties. Won’t everything pile up if no one’s tending to them?”

Feliciana simply shrugged. “Well, it depends. Ludwig told me he left the remaining advisers in charge while they’re both away. Maybe they’ll take care of the royal affairs too?”

The older girl gestured thoughtfully with her hand. “I don’t know… it’s not common.” She wanted to dwell on the thought a bit more, but after a few moments, she figured Gilbert’s brother probably had everything under control. And if Gilbert hadn’t mentioned any problems, then there likely weren’t any.

With that settled in her mind, she turned to her sister, ready to address the other matter still unanswered. “So… why did Gilbert’s brother come here, anyway?”

At that, Feliciana also shrugged. “I’m not sure. He didn’t say. And since he came unannounced, I guess he has his reasons…” She paused, then smiled warmly. “But I’m just happy he’s here! I love spending time with him!”

She made a swooning expression, eyes wide and dreamy, a soft warmth radiating from her as if just thinking about Ludwig made her heart flutter.

Lovina let out a small sigh, clearly unimpressed. “I hope I get to see just how great this guy really is—if he’s got you acting so… sickly.” she said, drawing out the last word with emphasis.

Feliciana chuckled and pointed at her. “Me acting sickly? You turned as pink as the dress you’re wearing when we—!” she began, only to be cut off as Lovina's hand suddenly clamped over her mouth, muffling the rest.

Lovina was red. First from embarrassment, second from irritation, and third from… well, that other reason people turn red when they’ve got certain feelings for someone. (You know the one.)

“Are you out of your mind?!” she hissed, glancing around at the confused attendants as if they were eavesdropping on a conversation they had no business hearing. (They weren’t.)

“You… you can’t just say stuff like that in front of people!” she snapped. “I don’t want anyone finding out that I…”

She cut herself off, refusing to finish the sentence. There was no way she was going to admit how she felt about the King of the Germanic Nation… not out loud! What kind of fool would say something like that openly? Especially when she hadn’t even acted on those feelings. If she’d been obvious about it, that would’ve been one thing… but she hadn’t been. Not at all! (Well, or so she thought.)

Feliciana didn’t seem to take her reaction seriously… If anything, she looked amused, which only made Lovina more irritated. What on earth was so funny about this situation?

It wasn’t until her sister gently pulled her hand away and let out a small laugh, saying, “Lovina, nobody understands us. Did you forget?” that Lovina realized why she was so amused.

She blinked at the light brunette, stunned for a moment, then quickly stepped back and cleared her throat to cover the awkwardness. “Right.” she muttered, before turning away and quickening her pace, clearly flustered.

They’re in Austria, for God’s sake! Of course no one here spoke Italian. God, Lovina, you’re so stupid! she scolded herself, now even more embarrassed than before, because she’d been mortified over something no one else had even understood.

Feliciana just snickered and skipped after her. “Wait for me, sorella!”

Soon enough, the two of them reached the main dining hall, where Feliciana usually took her meals with the Emperor and Empress. As the attendants opened the grand doors and allowed them inside, the girls naturally assumed they’d find both rulers waiting.

Each had someone else in mind, too. Feliciana hoped Ludwig would be there, while Lovina quietly wished to see Gilbert. She really wanted to see him… especially after everything that had happened. Even though she’d already thanked him once, there was still a heaviness in her chest that told her it wasn’t enough.

Because… things had actually gone to plan. He had gotten her here, back to her sister. And she just… she needed him to know what that meant to her. How grateful she was to have someone like him, someone so kind, as her friend.

But when they stepped into the hall, it wasn’t Ludwig or Gilbert who greeted them. Aside from the usual attendants, officials, and servants, only one familiar face sat at the long, ornate table, surrounded by enough food and drink to last for days: the Austro-Hungarian Empress, Elizabeta.

Both Italian sisters came to an abrupt halt just past the threshold of the dining hall, almost forgetting to courtesy. They quickly corrected themselves, both offering polite bows as their eyes scanned the room, searching.

But when it became clear that neither of the men they had hoped to see were present, they both let out a frustrated huff, almost in perfect unison.

Elizabeta noticed the sisters and, with a warm smile, gestured for them to sit. “Feliciana, bring yourself and your sister here!” she urged in German.

Feliciana’s attention drifted to the Empress as she gave a small nod, prompting her sister to follow. Lovina, however, was still puzzled.

“What did she say?” she asked, glancing at Feliciana just before they approached the Hungarian lady.

“To join her!” Feliciana explained.

As soon as they settled, Feliciana beside Elizabeta and Lovina beside her sister, the Empress switched to English, ensuring both could understand.

"How did you two sleep?" she asked, the warm expression never leaving her face.

Feliciana eagerly rushed to answer, but her English was a bit rusty, causing her to stumble over her words. She mispronounced ‘wonderful’, prompting Lovina to shake her head with a small sigh.

“It’s ‘wonderful’, Feliciana!” she corrected, then added with a shrug, “But I wouldn’t really say ‘wonderful.’ I’d say… good.”

It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with the bed or the sleeping arrangements… just that going to bed in the early morning didn’t exactly lead to the most restful sleep. (Though that was probably on her; she had chosen to talk with her sister instead of actually sleeping!)

Elizabeta smiled at the sisters. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Are you hungry?” she asked, gesturing toward the impressive spread of food before them. “Please, eat.”

Feliciana didn’t need to be told twice—she grabbed some utensils and immediately began digging in, savoring every bite. Lovina, just as hungry after weeks of less-than-ideal meals, followed suit. The food here was far better than what she'd been served in inns and taverns…!

But just as she raised her fork, a thought struck her. She paused and turned toward the Austro-Hungarian Empress, who sat calmly sipping her tea.

“Uh, Your Majesty…” she began, catching the woman’s attention. Elizabeta turned to her and waved a dismissive hand.

“You don’t have to be so formal, drága!” (dear) she said with a light laugh, as if the formality were entirely unnecessary.

Lovina nodded slowly, though she wasn’t quite sure how else to address the Empress. “Okay… uh…” she hesitated, then gave up on trying to find a proper title and simply asked what was on her mind. “Did… Gilbert wake up yet?”

“Oh, Gilbert?” Elizabeta echoed, setting down her tea and glancing at the Italian girl with a surprised expression, momentarily taken aback that the Prussian was the first thing on her mind that morning. But the surprise quickly faded, replaced by a soft smile as she prepared to respond.

Before she could speak, however, Feliciana—having overheard her sister’s question—suddenly remembered her own and cut in:
“Oh! Where is Ludwig?” she asked, turning her attention to the Empress as well.

Elizabeta blinked, glancing from one girl to the other, before letting out a small laugh. She could certainly attest to the effect Germans had on those around them—she was married to one, after all. But she quickly composed herself, brushing off the momentary amusement, and offered her answers.

“Gilbert hasn’t woken up yet, as far as I know. He was very tired.”

Oh, so he was still asleep… Lovina pursed her lips in disappointment but quickly resigned herself to the fact that she’d have to wait. She could understand—Gilbert needed the rest. She’d caught herself dozing off several times during their travels.

Gilbert, on the other hand, always insisted he wasn’t tired, which was a blatant lie. He’d rather stay awake, making sure everything ran smoothly and ready to give orders if anything came up. The idiot. What was the point of delegating work if you were going to do it all yourself? No wonder he was so exhausted…

She sighed softly and decided to just eat something. Gilbert would likely wake up soon enough. It was brunch time now, after all. (Having missed breakfast from sleeping in.)

“And Ludwig did wake up on time, as he always does,” Elizabeta continued, “He joined me and Roderich for breakfast. But after my husband retreated to his office to take care of some affairs, Ludwig followed him, claiming he had something important to discuss.”

Feliciana tilted her head, intrigued by the mention of Ludwig’s sudden business with the Emperor.

“Ask Mr. Roderich about what?” she inquired, but it seemed Elizabeta didn’t know the answer. Or perhaps she did and simply chose not to share. Either way, the Empress smiled.

“I’m not certain. You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

Feliciana nodded, making a mental note to speak with Ludwig, though knowing her, she’d likely forget before the chance even came.

“But he should be back soon with my husband to join us for brunch,” Elizabeta added, referring to the very brunch they were currently enjoying. “And Gilbert’s attendants went to check on him, so he’ll most likely join us as well.” She gave them a warm smile, earning pleased looks from both sisters. “But please, eat while we wait. I’m sure you’re both hungry after missing breakfast.”

The sisters nodded and returned to their meals, their thoughts drifting to the particular German each of them hoped to see soon.

.
.
.

Gilbert woke feeling more rested than he had in days. He sat up in bed, stretched his limbs, and glanced toward the large window overlooking a corner of Roderich’s grand garden. The sky was cloudy, but bright enough to tell him he’d overslept, even more than usual…

As he got out of bed, a knock at the door made him pause and turn back. When he opened it, he was met by the relieved faces of several court members: two officials and five attendants.

One of the officials let out a dramatic sigh. “Your Majesty, oh, how you’ve worried us!”

Gilbert just shook his head and gave a small, sheepish smile. He didn’t understand why they always got like this. It wasn’t the first time he’d overslept, certainly wouldn’t be the last, and yet his court acted like he’d dropped dead in his sleep, or fainted and then died, or something equally dramatic. Still, he supposed he couldn’t blame them. He was their king, after all. And what was a court without its king?

“I was pretty exhausted, so… yeah.” was all he offered.

His court still gave him wary looks, though they seemed a bit more at ease now.

“At least let us know ahead of time if you plan to sleep in, Your Majesty!” one of them said, and the rest nodded in agreement.

Gilbert blinked at them, unsure how he was supposed to predict something even he didn’t plan. Still, he decided not to argue—no point in startling them further.

“Alright, sure.” he said, flashing them a smile.

His response seemed to satisfy them.

“Do you wish to eat, Your Majesty?” one of the attendants asked. “It’s rather late…”

Now that he thought about it, Gilbert was starving. If he waited much longer, he’d probably start feeling lightheaded.

“What time is it?” he asked.

The same attendant pulled out a pocket watch, checked it, then turned it toward him.

“Eleven-oh-three, Your Majesty.”

The Prussian blinked, surprised. He hadn’t slept in that late in a long time. He shook his head and chuckled. “Yeah, I’m famished.”

His court immediately sprang into action.

“Fret not, Your Majesty! Brunch is ready! All you need do is make your way to the dining hall!” one official declared, gesturing for the attendants to fetch one of the king’s royal attires and prepare him for the day.

Gilbert, still half groggy, was a little taken aback by how fast everything moved, but grateful all the same.

Once he was dressed and refreshed—and an attendant had even managed to tame his unruly hair, if only slightly—he stepped out and began making his way through the palace halls toward the dining room.

But on his way there, he passed an office door, one he recognized as his cousin’s, and noticed it was slightly ajar. Assuming Roderich was busy with state affairs, he decided not to disturb him. Yet just as he walked past, he heard his brother’s voice from inside. That made him stop in his tracks, step back, and peek through the opening. His court members looked puzzled, as did a few Austrians and Hungarians nearby, but his attention was fixed on the scene within. Ludwig was speaking to Roderich in his usual calm manner, while Roderich appeared to be finishing up, slipping some documents into a drawer.

He couldn’t quite see Ludwig’s expression—his back was to the door—but from what he could hear, he was muttering something about… an important question for Roderich, or something along those lines. That was enough to pique the Prussian’s curiosity. Since Roderich seemed to be finished with his work anyway, he decided to step inside. With a quick gesture, he told his court members to wait outside, then pushed the door open and entered the room.

"Hey, you two!" he called out cheerfully, catching both their attention. Roderich gave him a brief glance in acknowledgment as he finished with the documents and shut the drawer, then turned to face the newcomer with a relatively neutral expression. Well, thank God he wasn’t as prissy as he’d been yesterday. Ludwig, on the other hand, looked visibly uneasy at his brother’s arrival and let out a quiet sigh of defeat, but Gilbert didn’t notice, his attention fixed on whatever the Austrian had to say.

“You finally woke up. Your court was starting to assume you’d died in your sleep,” Roderich remarked, giving his cousin a once-over. “You seem pretty alive to me.”

Gilbert let out a short laugh and waved it off. “Yeah, they get dramatic like that.”

As he spoke, his gaze drifted to Ludwig, who wore a disappointed look and didn’t seem all that pleased to see him (or perhaps something else was weighing on the young prince’s mind). Gilbert raised an eyebrow and stepped closer with a playful grin.

“You don’t look too happy to see your big brother!” he teased, giving Ludwig a firm pat on the shoulder.

“Ah—no, it’s not that,” the blond admitted. “I just…” He began, but was promptly cut off.

“Ah, right,” Roderich interrupted. “You said you wanted to ask me something?”

Ludwig visibly tensed at the reminder.

“Whaaat?” Gilbert gasped, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense, though he’d already overheard. “You’re going to our cousin for help and not your awesome brother?”

Roderich rolled his eyes. “And thank goodness he is,” he said lightly, then turned back to Ludwig with a more focused expression. “So, what is it you need?”

Ludwig stiffened even more, as rigid as a board, his expression suddenly closed off. His gaze flicked between his cousin and his brother before dropping to the floor, an act that made Gilbert truly wonder what was running through his younger brother’s mind—and whether it had anything to do with his unexpected visit to Austria. Ludwig let out a small sigh and shook his head, dismissing the thought. “It can wait.” he murmured, and Roderich, seeing the hesitation, decided not to press him. Ludwig would speak when he was ready.

The Prussian, however, couldn’t help but be intrigued. He hadn’t seen his brother so tight-lipped since the boy had first gotten into trouble years ago. Whatever Ludwig had been about to ask Roderich, he had clearly dropped it when Gilbert walked in. Still, like Roderich, he decided to let it go for now. Pushing Ludwig to talk only made him clam up more, but if left alone, he'd eventually come around. Gilbert had learned that the hard way when they were younger.

“Are you hungry, brother?” Ludwig asked suddenly, clearing his throat, clearly trying to change the subject and snap them out of the silence.

Gilbert caught the shift but let it slide. “Yeah, I’m starving!” he replied, drawing out the word with a dramatic expression.

“That’s what happens to those who skip breakfast,” Roderich remarked dryly. Then, with a glance at the finished paperwork, he added, “Well, never mind that. It’s a good thing you’re awake now. Brunch has just started, and since I’m done with the documents, I’ll join you and my wife.” He nodded toward Ludwig and Gilbert.

“Ah, great then!” Gilbert grinned, but his thoughts quickly turned to someone else he hadn’t seen that day. “Hey, is… Lovina—”

Yet, before he could finish, Roderich cut in with a raised brow. “The other Italian sister? I don’t know much, but she and Feliciana overslept too. Neither of them showed up for breakfast this morning.” He gave a small, pointed glance toward his cousin. “So they’re either still asleep or already joined Elizabeta for brunch…”

He trailed off, his gaze lingering on Gilbert with a curious look, as if trying to read something in him. But just as quickly, that thoughtful expression shifted to one of insistence.

“...Which is what we should be doing too! Come on, both of you! Let’s go!” He waved the two Germans toward the door.

They complied without protest, and once they were outside, Roderich gave a few final instructions to his advisers before shutting the office door behind him. Then, the group made their way toward the dining hall, now accompanied not only by German courtiers, but Austrians and Hungarians as well.

When they finally arrived and the doors creaked open with a loud screech, one of the Austrian attendants stepped forward to announce their entrance, titles and all. As Gilbert looked inside, his eyes landed on Lizzy and Feliciana… and right beside them, Lovina. She had been focused on her food, but the attendant’s voice made her pause. Her gaze swept toward the three Germans, then stopped on him. She stared, and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.

Elizabeta raised a hand and gestured for them to join the group, which they did. Unfortunately, the attendants directed them to sit on the opposite side of the table—Austrian custom, Gilbert supposed. Still, he couldn’t help wishing he were seated beside Lovina. Just seeing her again filled him with joy. He took the seat directly across from her and gave a small wave, smiling. She wore a soft expression and let out a quiet snicker at his gesture before returning the wave. Seeing her in such good spirits made him all the more pleased.

Elizabeta seemed glad to acknowledge her husband as well, though only with her eyes, and he returned the gesture in kind. Feliciana, on the other hand, waved enthusiastically at Ludwig, who offered a more reserved response before taking his seat.

Once everyone was seated, the Empress set down her utensils and turned her gaze toward her friend. “Gil, you slept in for quite a while,” she remarked with a small laugh, in English, so everyone at the table could understand. Her words pulled the Prussian’s attention away from the eldest Italian girl and back to her.

He blinked in her direction for a moment, momentarily distracted, but after processing her words, he let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah, I was drained.” With that, and driven by hunger, he cut into the meat on the plate before him and popped a small piece into his mouth.

“So, that means you're well rested now?” Elizabeta pressed. He gave a quick nod, still chewing, unable to reply aloud. “Well, that’s good then!” she said cheerfully, returning her focus to her utensils and plate.

They ate and conversed for the next hour, drifting between idle chatter and more particular matters. At one point, Gilbert delved into the details of his trip to Austria—how he'd arranged for Lovina to come, from his conversations with Antonio and Emma to the journey itself. He explained, once again, that for the next two months her presence wouldn’t be seen as politically unstable. At that, he shot a pointed look toward Roderich, silently telling his cousin not to worry his pretty little head. He had enough to deal with already, after all. The brunet tried not to take offense at the phrasing and chose instead to trust in Gilbert’s assurances, though a sliver of skepticism lingered. He couldn’t fully relax otherwise.

Eventually, the conversation shifted as Gilbert began eagerly asking the sisters how it felt to be reunited. He listened with genuine happiness while they spoke, animated and smiling. He was especially drawn to the way Lovina kept sneaking glances at him with those beautiful hazel eyes of hers… She was explaining how she’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to share a room with her sister, and all Gilbert could think about was how her eyes reminded him of walking through a forest in mid-April—lush green leaves overhead, the scent of fresh soil underfoot. He could get lost in that.

Feliciana, ever full of gratitude, thanked him again and again for bringing her sister here. She didn’t know how she could ever repay him. He simply waved her off, insisting that no grand gesture was needed. Seeing them both happy and free from sorrow was more than enough for him.

One thing, however, did catch the albino’s attention: the way his brother looked at the younger Italian sister as she spoke. There was a certain fondness in Ludwig’s gaze, and a small smile on his lips. That in itself wasn’t unusual. Ever since befriending Feliciana, Ludwig had been smiling more. She was clearly a good influence on him. Gilbert had always thought his brother was too much of a stoic, a rigid goody-two-shoes who’d never stray from the rules. But with Feliciana around, Ludwig had grown warmer… more human. He’d even made a somewhat reckless decision to come to Austria—if that wasn’t a sign of change, Gilbert didn’t know what was.

And yet, the way Ludwig looked at her now… it wasn’t how he looked at Elizabeta when asking about the snowfall, nor how he looked at Lovina when inquiring about Spain. That softness was reserved entirely for Feliciana. Gilbert couldn’t recall seeing it before, at least not during the visits he’d been present for. Ludwig had visited their cousin a few times alone after that, while Gilbert remained behind to manage affairs in their kingdom. Perhaps something had changed then…

That look reminded Gilbert of something… of himself, and of a certain French merchant who’d once knocked some sense into him back in France. And now that he truly thought about it… he remembered something else. In the early morning, when Roderich had sent everyone off to bed, Ludwig had wished Feliciana good night in a tone so soft, so full of feeling, that Gilbert had never heard anything like it from his brother before, not toward anyone else. And just like that, uncertainty crept in. He wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. But he wasn’t ready to draw conclusions just yet. A look was just a look… and words were only words, after all.

Still, he planned to ask Ludwig about it. When they had a moment to themselves…

“Uh, brother?” Ludwig’s voice suddenly pulled him out of his spiral of thoughts. Gilbert blinked a few times, shook his head lightly, and glanced around at the faces now turned toward him, still a bit dazed.

“Did you hear what Miss Elizabeta asked you?” Ludwig added, his tone calm but slightly concerned.

Truthfully, Gilbert hadn’t caught a single word. He’d been far too wrapped up in his own thoughts. At first, he gave a vague nod, out of habit more than anything, but quickly realized he had no idea what the question even was. With a sheepish shrug, he shook his head in reluctant honesty.

Ludwig sighed quietly, but Lizzy didn’t seem bothered. She simply took a sip of her drink and repeated herself with a light smile. “I was just asking if you’d be attending the ball Roderich and I were telling you two about.”

“Ball?” the Prussian echoed, glancing around as if to confirm he’d heard correctly. When even Roderich gave a nod of affirmation, Gilbert turned back to Elizabeta with a look of surprise. Apparently, he’d missed more of the conversation than he thought. Letting out a somewhat awkward chuckle, he asked, “What ball?”

He genuinely wasn’t sure. Were they talking about a ball hosted by an Austrian Duke? A Hungarian Baron? Either was possible. Many nobles sent invitations hoping their rulers might grace the event. And Roderich and Lizzy weren’t the type to pass up the opportunity to make an appearance, especially Roderich. It served them well in more ways than one, politically speaking.

Roderich raised an eyebrow at his question. “Uh, the ball my wife just mentioned? What do you mean, what ball?” he asked, his tone edged with disbelief. Then, with a slight furrow of his brow, he added, “Were you even listening to a word she said?”

Gilbert lifted his hands in defense, but the truth was, he hadn’t been listening at all, and there wasn’t much he could say to cover for it. “Uh… no…” he admitted, rather awkwardly.

Roderich rolled his eyes. “Typical.”

“Sorry, Lizzy,” Gilbert turned to the Empress, his tone more sincere. “My mind was… elsewhere.”

She let out a small sigh but didn’t seem all that bothered. “The Concord Ball.” she replied simply.

“Concord?” Gilbert repeated, raising a brow.

Concord referred to an agreement, harmony between people or groups, or even a treaty. Naming a ball that way… it had to mean there was more to it than just some social gathering designed to boost a family’s influence.

He glanced toward Elizabeta, a puzzled look in his eyes. “As in treaty?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes. If you had been listening,” she said, shooting him a sharp look, but with an amused glint in her eyes that made it hard for him to take offense, “you’d know this ball is hosted by yours truly,” she gestured to herself and then to Roderich opposite her, “for our people.”

The Prussian blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait… you’re hosting a ball?!”

“Yeah!” Lizzy beamed, clasping her hands together with excitement.

Roderich merely shook his head. “We’ve told you this already, but since your head was in the clouds…” He let out a small sigh, though he seemed to set aside any lingering annoyance, willing enough to enlighten his puzzled cousin.

“It’s called the Concord Ball because, as you guessed, it’s more than just a social gathering, it’s essentially a treaty in spirit. Our people have been… less than pleased with the northern Italian territory joining our Empire, as you know. And since the unrest hasn’t died down, my advisers suggested we find a way to ease tensions and help our citizens see that this new addition won’t disrupt the Austro-Hungarian balance. Nor will it force the Italians to change theirs. Just as Austria and Hungary coexist with their respective traditions, the northern Italians will keep theirs. It’s all part of the whole now, and we want them to see the benefits rather than the threat.”

He paused, his tone softening with a hint of amusement. “Elizabeta and I spent quite a bit of time thinking on it. And one night, while I was nearly asleep, she jumped out of bed and started shaking me because she had a 'brilliant idea,' as she put it.”

At that, Elizabeta gave him a proud little smile. Roderich returned it with a glance, then continued.

“She proposed we host a ball for the entire nobility across the Empire. Her reasoning, which I admit was sound, was that if the aristocracy appears supportive, the rest of society will follow suit. They’ll assume the political direction is stable, even beneficial. Which, in hindsight, it is. So yes… we’re hosting this ball to put our people's doubts to rest and reinforce unity.”

With that, he ended his rather thorough explanation and took a sip of tea, letting the information settle.

Well, that was certainly a lot to take in. But Gilbert couldn’t deny that it was a genius idea. If the nobles believed all was well, the other classes would fall in line soon enough.

“Wow,” he exclaimed, genuinely impressed. “That’s going to be some ball! And a well-thought-out one at that!”

Elizabeta smiled warmly at his support. “There will be Italian nobles there as well, mostly from the north, of course, since that’s our territory. By bringing Latin, Austrian, and Hungarian nobility together, we’re hoping to encourage new friendships and alliances. Personal connections can do a great deal to ease political tensions. And more importantly,” she added, her voice firm with resolve, “they are our people now too. Regardless of ethnicity, they’re part of the Empire. We must treat them as a whole. That is the unity we hope to showcase.”

“Italians?” the Prussian echoed, eyebrows raised as he shot a glance at the two Italian sisters seated across from him. Both were quietly listening, but their expressions shifted with interest at the mention of their people attending the ball. It was only natural… they hadn’t seen their homeland in so long….

Turning his attention back to Elizabeta, Gilbert cleared his throat, then offered a slight smile. “Well, it’s smart, getting all your people together in one place. What better way to get folks to get along than with a big old party? Really smart, Lizzy.” He pointed at her for emphasis, and she basked in the praise rather than feigning modesty, because, truly, she was clever like that.

But Gilbert wasn’t quite done. “I’ll attend, sure. A ball sounds like fun.”

Elizabeta’s smile widened. “Ah, wonderful! With you and your brother present, people will be even more eager to get along. If Roderich’s cousins, the King and Prince of the other German kingdom, are representing as well, everything should go even smoother.”

Gilbert nodded in agreement. She wasn’t wrong. But still… something tugged at his thoughts.

He looked toward the Italian sisters again and couldn’t help but ask, “Will Lovina and Feliciana be able to attend too?” His tone held a note of hope. It would be a shame if they couldn’t. Seeing their people again might do them a world of good…

At that, Elizabeta was just about to answer, but Roderich cut in. And, as he usually did, Gilbert braced himself for the usual scolding: a snide remark about how foolish his question was, followed by a thorough list of all the reasons it was a terrible idea. But, to his surprise, none of that came.

“What kind of question is that? Of course they’ll be able to attend!” Roderich replied, giving his cousin a look like he couldn’t fathom how dense the albino could be.

Gilbert merely blinked, not having expected such a straightforward response. Across the table, Feliciana and Lovina watched the exchange with barely concealed amusement, both clearly trying not to laugh.

“Really?” Gilbert asked, just to be sure.

The Austrian sighed in exasperation.

“Gilbert, this is exactly what we were talking about! But—oh, wait—you weren’t listening!” Roderich exclaimed, loud enough that the attendants who were clearing away empty dishes and replacing cutlery paused to glance his way before resuming their duties.

Gilbert offered a sheepish expression and quickly said, “Which, again, I’m sorry about!”

But Roderich pressed on, clearly unconvinced. “We intended for Feliciana to attend the ball from the very beginning. Her presence, as a former princess, at an event meant to symbolize Latin-Austro-Hungarian harmony is the perfect statement. It humanizes the political transition. Italian nobles may be more inclined to cooperate if they see someone from their former royal family treated with dignity.”

He gestured with some frustration. “Because I don’t want any more of those ridiculous rumors spreading around Italy claiming that Antonio and I are mistreating their royals. We are not! Feliciana, are we mistreating you?”

The light brunette shook her head in response.

“Thank you.” Roderich barely paused before continuing. “Now, since the other sister is here for… certain reasons, we may as well let her attend too.” Then he fixed Gilbert with a very serious look. “This will either: a) reinforce our message, especially with both former princesses present, which could make an even stronger impression, or b) backfire entirely. The rumor that the Austro-Hungarian Empire is ruled by a deranged man obsessed with conquering all of Italy will spread like wildfire, and I will be the one left cleaning up the mess.”

His voice had risen by the end, clearly pinning the blame on his white-haired cousin. Gilbert glanced at Lizzy for help, but she only laughed at first, before clearing her throat and finally saying:

“But I’m certain the first option is the more plausible one, no, dear?” she asked sweetly. Roderich let out a sigh and gave a hesitant nod, but it was enough to satisfy his wife.

“The ball is at the end of the week, so we’ve already begun preparations, sent out a public invitation to all noble classes, and still have plenty to do,” she continued. “It’ll be held in our largest ballroom, the one that opens into the gardens!”

Gilbert gave a nod of recognition at that.

“And the theme,” Elizabeta went on, “will be the blending of our three cultures under one rule. No one will be asked to dress like anyone else, they’ll wear what reflects their region of the Empire. That way, when everyone starts mingling, talking, and sharing their perspectives, the Italians will see we’re not trying to force Austrian or Hungarian culture on them, or vice versa. It will show harmony through diversity, and all will be well!” she declared triumphantly, raising a fist with conviction before letting out a small laugh and lowering it again.

“Which is why it’s important,” she added, gesturing toward the two sisters, “that the girls wear something that reflects their Italian heritage, something traditional, ideally, or in a style that’s currently worn in Italy. They’ll be representing their people, after all.”

“You have Italian attire?” Gilbert asked, glancing toward the girls.

“No,” Elizabeta replied, “and going to Italy would be a hassle, not to mention time consuming, especially with all the snow. The roads haven’t been cleared yet. But!” she brightened, raising a finger, “since the northern territory is under our sovereignty now, plenty of Italians have been coming to the capital lately. Some have even opened up businesses! So I’m sure there are quite a few Italian-influenced boutiques in town.”

She ended her statement with a particularly pointed smile, one that made Gilbert raise a brow in confusion.

“Right…” he said slowly.

Then she gave him a little gesture, subtle but insistent, and once again, it flew right over his head. It wasn’t until Roderich spoke up that Gilbert finally understood what she meant.

“Augh, Gilbert, you’re so dense!” he groaned in frustration. “She’s suggesting you take them into town to get the dresses! Since you’ve got nothing else to do here, unlike the rest of us!“

“Oh, me?” Gilbert blinked in realization.

“No, I was referring to the butler behind you.” The Prussian’s gaze shifted to the poor man standing awkwardly behind him, who, upon realizing he’d somehow been dragged into the conversation, scurried away.

Roderich huffed, “Who else?!” and Gilbert, not wanting to press the matter any further, just nodded and fell quiet.

“To town?” Ludwig repeated, his attention briefly drifting to Feliciana and then back to his brother. “I’d like to come with you, brother. Can I join?”

“Oh, sure…” Gilbert mumbled, scratching his head. “I didn’t even know I was going anywhere…” he muttered under his breath before turning back to the two girls. “Well, we’re headed to town, I suppose. Is that alright with you two? Were you planning to do something else?”

Feliciana beamed as she shook her head. “Nope! Going to town sounds like so much fun! Especially if we are going dress shopping! At an Italian place!” She clasped her hands together, her expression full of genuine excitement.

Gilbert’s attention shifted to Lovina, who hadn’t voiced her thoughts yet. “Lovina?” he asked, drawing her gaze away from her sister.

Lovina gave a small nod and a smile in response. “Yeah. What my sister said.”

Gilbert smiled back, relieved to see her on board. Well, he thought to himself, looks like we’re going to town! (To buy dresses, of all things. He’d never done that before, but hey, there’s a first time for everything!)

Once brunch ended and Elizabeta and Roderich returned to their duties, the four prepared to head into town. Being recognized was out of the question—quite the opposite, in fact. With Roderich on edge, it was crucial that, as he put it: “No Austro-Hungarians see the former Italian princesses before the ball.” On top of that, Gilbert and Ludwig were instantly recognizable within their cousin’s empire; everyone knew who they were and what they looked like. Their presence would stir up commotion—not necessarily trouble, but certainly attention. And Roderich wanted none of that before the ball.

To blend in, they dressed in more modest attire—still noble, of course, but deliberately toned down and styled after local Austrian fashion rather than that of their homeland. They looked more like Austrian viscounts than German royalty. Lovina and Feliciana didn’t need to change, as their outfits were already appropriate. Over their clothing, each wore a thick, hooded Austrian cloak, plain and free of crests or insignia.

Once they were ready, Hungarian attendants led them to the front gates, which swung open to reveal a chilly, snow-covered landscape. The attendants then left to fetch horses for the journey—because, yes, carriages were out of the question. The snow was too deep for wheels to turn, so horseback it would be. A quicker trip, perhaps... but certainly a colder one.

It wasn’t as bitter as the night he and Lovina had arrived, but the chill still bit at them, especially when the occasional gust of wind swept through. Snowflakes continued to drift from the sky, not as heavily as before, but steadily enough to suggest the snowfall wasn’t ending anytime soon…

When the attendants returned, they brought out Gilbert’s main horse, the white stallion named Ritter, and Ludwig’s black horse, Eisen, which literally means “iron” in German, as the horse is as tough as iron. A fitting match for his rider, no doubt! Alongside them came a few more brown Trakehners, all from their own stables. The Hungarian attendants bowed politely, then went to inform the guards to open the gates.

Left alone for a moment, Gilbert began to mount Ritter. But just as he was about to swing into the saddle, he—and Ludwig as well—paused, noticing something hard to miss: the former Italian princesses were clearly struggling to get onto the tall steeds.

“Ah, sorella, this horse is too tall! Why are they so tall?” Feliciana complained, placing her hands on the top of the saddle and attempting another jump, unsuccessfully. With a defeated huff, she added, “What kind of horses are these? Mr. Roderich and Mrs. Elizabeta’s horses aren’t this tall! And this was never a problem in Italy either…”

Lovina, standing beside her, gave a nonchalant shrug. “They’re Gilbert’s horses… I knew they looked bigger than regular ones, but I figured it’d be the same as with any other horse.” Her eyes drifted toward the horse next to her, who simply stood there, calmly breathing into the chilly air.

Both handmaids, Lovina’s from the Spanish court and Feliciana’s from the Austrian, watched their mistresses with a little bit of concern. They didn’t understand a word of the rapid Italian being exchanged, but the struggle to mount the horses was clear enough.

“Young Mistress,” Lovina’s handmaid spoke in Spanish, drawing her attention. “Perhaps wait for the attendants to return and help you up?”

Lovina shook her head. “No, it’s fine. We can manage.”

She said it with a confidence that did not at all match the situation. Still, the handmaid, well-acquainted with her mistress’s stubborn streak, didn’t press the matter further.

Lovina turned back to the task at hand—getting on the horse—and tried to place her foot in the stirrup. But once again, it was far too high for comfort. With a sigh, she gave up on that method entirely. Then a new idea struck her.

“Horse, lie down!” she commanded, gesturing firmly toward the ground.

The horse, being just a horse, didn’t understand a word. It blinked slowly and stood still.

Feliciana, however, seemed to find her sister’s approach rather clever. She turned to her own mount and tried the same, though in her usual gentler manner.

“Mr. Horse, could you please lie down so I can climb up? Because I really cannot do it
otherwise.” she asked sweetly.

Her horse, like the other, did not comprehend a single word and simply huffed into the cold air.

The two sisters stared at the uncooperative animals for a long second, before Lovina suddenly raised a finger in realization.

“Ah! I don’t think they understand Italian!”

“Oh!!! You’re so right, sorella!” Feliciana gasped, eyes wide.

“Tell them in German, Feliciana!” Lovina urged.

The younger girl nodded seriously, then cleared her throat and addressed the horses in German: “Entschuldigt, Pferde, könntet ihr euch für uns hinlegen?” (Excuse me, horses, can you lie down for us?)

They waited, hopeful. But… the horses did not move.

Their handmaids, still watching from nearby, exchanged looks. The one who spoke German blinked slowly, hardly able to believe the girls had truly asked the horses—politely, no less—to do something. She turned to the Spanish handmaid and translated in English, her tone flat, “They just asked the horses to lie down.”

The Spanish handmaid stared for a moment, then simply nodded, as if nothing could surprise her anymore.

Realizing even their multilingual attempts had failed, Feliciana and Lovina let out twin sighs of defeat.

Gilbert couldn’t help but laugh from where he stood, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Did they just try to talk to the horses?” Ludwig whispered beside him.

Gilbert nodded, still chuckling. “Yeah.”

Ludwig sighed softly, but the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. “Should we help them?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Gilbert replied, smiling.

With that, the two brothers took hold of their horses’ reins and walked over to the struggling girls, their boots crunching lightly over the snow.

“Need a hand?” the Prussian called out, making the two girls turn his way. Feliciana tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.
“A hand?” she echoed, not quite understanding the English expression. She held up both hands with a smile. “No thank you! I already have two!”

Gilbert and Ludwig just stared at her, blinking in confusion.

Lovina nudged her lightly in the shoulder and muttered in Italian, “It’s an expression, Feliciana! He’s asking if we need help.”

“Ah,” the light brunette murmured in realization. “I didn’t know that…” She quickly turned back to the two Germans and gave a swift nod, switching back to English. “Help would be nice,” she said with a small laugh. “The horses are a bit too tall.”

Lovina nodded in agreement and added dryly, “And uncooperative.” shooting a side glance at the animals before returning her gaze to Gilbert and Ludwig.

The albino let out a small laugh. “Well, there aren’t many horses trained well enough to respond to commands…” His words trailed off as he glanced at his own horse, then at Lovina, an idea suddenly striking him. “Well, except for Ritter here, and Eisen. We trained them ourselves!” he added proudly, giving the white horse a couple of firm pats on the neck.

To prove his point, he stepped back and called: “Ritter, platz!” (Ritter, sit down!)
Without hesitation, the horse lowered itself onto its knees, drawing surprised looks from the two Italian girls.

Gilbert grinned as he gave Ritter a pat on the head. "Fein, Ritter!" (Nice, Ritter!) he praised, then, without warning, motioned for Lovina to come closer. She was reluctant for a moment, unsure why, but stepped forward toward the horse, now resting on the ground, anyway.

The Prussian smiled slightly and nodded toward Ritter. "He's very compliant," he said, then gestured to the horse’s head. "Go on, give him a pet! He'll like it!"

Lovina hesitated, not wanting to startle the animal, but trusting Gilbert’s words. If he said the horse was good, she decided to believe him. Carefully, she reached out and touched Ritter’s soft, blonde mane. The horse didn’t flinch, remaining perfectly still, and Lovina couldn’t help but smile at how gentle he was, almost leaning into her touch. As she ran her fingers through his mane a few times, her smile grew a bit.

“Yeah… he is.” she murmured, then slowly traced her hand over Ritter's pointed ear.

At the sight of her smile, Gilbert felt a warm tightness in his chest and found himself watching her fondly as she slowly petted Ritter. Without thinking, his mouth opened before his brain could process the words, and he blurted: “Give me your hand.”

Lovina paused, her hand frozen mid-motion, and turned to look at him, blinking in surprise. “Hm?” she replied, tilting her head slightly. It was then that Gilbert realized what he’d said, and he quickly cleared his throat, a nervous laugh escaping him. “I mean... could you give me your hand?”

Still a little confused, Lovina furrowed her brows, but didn’t question it. She stepped closer and offered her gloved hand. Gilbert gave her a reassuring smile, then gently took her hand and guided her toward Ritter’s saddle.

“Can you put your foot there?” he asked, nodding toward the stirrup.

Lovina stared at him in bewilderment, but after a second, she seemed to catch on, at least somewhat. She still looked unsure, but followed his direction, placing her foot where he'd indicated, careful to keep her balance. Not that she really needed to worry; Gilbert held her firmly, clearly not about to let her fall.

Once her foot was secure, he released her hand and, in one swift motion, lifted her onto the saddle.

She let out a startled yelp as she landed, eyes wide. She might’ve expected him to tell her to get on the horse, not to lift her up there himself!

Once he made sure she was settled and holding the reins properly, Gilbert grinned and gave Ritter’s neck a firm pat. “Auf, Ritter!” (Up, Ritter!) he commanded.

At his word, the stallion rose smoothly from his knees to a standing position. Lovina drew in a sharp breath and tightened her grip on the reins, the sudden shift catching her slightly off guard. As Ritter came to a full stand, she blinked and looked down at Gilbert, wide-eyed and visibly flustered.

She didn’t say anything right away…

So, the Prussian spoke up instead. “He’ll understand English too, just speak clearly.” he said, offering her a reassuring smile.

But Lovina stayed silent, lips slightly parted in shock, still reeling from the sudden turn of events. For a moment, she could only stare at him. Then, slowly, she seemed to come back to herself, straightening in the saddle. She bit her lip, glanced down at Ritter beneath her, then back at Gilbert.

“But, Gilbert… it’s your horse…” she said quietly, her voice laced with genuine confusion as to why he’d give him up so readily.

Gilbert only kept smiling, finding her confusion and flustered surprise impossibly endearing. “It’s fine. Any horse will listen to me. I’m just that awesome!” he declared, tapping his chest with exaggerated confidence.

Then, his expression softened, so much so that for a moment, Lovina nearly forgot to keep hold of the reins. “Besides,” he added, quieter now, “I need you to be safe. And I know Ritter won’t let me down.”

He needs me to be safe? The words echoed in her head, looping like a spell, as her heart kicked into an unsteady rhythm, burning warm in her chest.

“Uh…” was all she could manage, blinking down at the albino as a flush crept across her cheeks, nearly as hot as the feeling thudding in her ribs. She quickly turned her head away, hiding her expression, and tugged on the reins. Ritter responded right away, shifting toward the front gate, which the guards had just swung open.

“I will… wait by the gate!” she called over her shoulder, her voice still tinged with fluster as Ritter began a light trot, carrying her—still pink-faced—away from the scene.

Gilbert stood there, watching her go with a soft, almost wistful smile. He was momentarily lost in thought, the image of her smile and confusion lingering in his mind… Until a sudden voice behind him broke the moment and snapped him out of his daze, pulling his attention elsewhere.

“Wahhh, Ludwig, did you see that?” Feliciana exclaimed, clinging to the blond man’s arm and shaking it with barely contained excitement. “Gilbert gave his horse to my sister because it will listen to her! That is sooo sweet of him!”

She continued to shake his arm with enthusiasm, practically bouncing on her feet.

Ludwig had seen it—and he was still watching his brother with a slightly puzzled look, as if he’d just realized something about him... But when Feliciana’s voice rose again, his gaze shifted back to her.

“I wish someone would give me their well-behaved horse too…” she added with a dramatic sigh and mock sorrow, sneaking a glance at Ludwig before quickly looking away, as if that ‘someone’ wasn’t just anyone in particular.

He stared at her for a moment, silently processing what she’d said. Then, after a brief pause, his eyes flicked to his horse and back to her, a thought forming.

Without a word, he lifted the reins and gave a small nod toward Eisen.
“You can ride Eisen… if you want.” he said at last, the words coming out quieter and more hesitant than usual.

At that, Feliciana’s pretend sadness vanished. She turned fully toward Ludwig, eyes bright. “You’d do that for me?” she asked softly, her voice sweet and her expression so sincere that Ludwig nearly forgot how to speak.

A flush crept up his face as he quickly looked away. “Of… of—” he stammered, then cleared his throat in an attempt to recover. The blush remained, but his voice came out steadier the second time. “Of course.”

When he looked back at her, he gave a small, awkward smile.
“Do you… want me to help you up?”

Feliciana nodded eagerly.

Ludwig gave a quiet nod in return, then gave the command for the black horse to kneel. Once Eisen lowered himself, Ludwig gently helped Feliciana onto the saddle, making sure she was seated properly before giving the signal for the horse to rise again.

It was almost exactly like what Gilbert had done with Lovina, though perhaps with a bit more nervousness on Ludwig’s part.

Speaking of Gilbert… he’d watched the little exchange between the youngest former princess and his brother—who had clearly mimicked his suave moves, as younger siblings often did when they thought their older ones were doing something so awesome (Gilbert’s words, naturally)—with clear intrigue. The thoughts that had stirred in his mind back at brunch returned, only now, they felt a lot more plausible. Still, he didn’t dwell on them for long. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t get the chance. Up ahead, the attendants suddenly called out that the gates were fully open, snapping him back to the moment.

Right, he thought. We’re supposed to be heading to town.

He turned away from the scene, mounted one of the remaining horses, and gave a short whistle. His brother followed suit, climbing onto another steed. Once the girls’ handmaids had been helped onto their mounts as well—after all, they were to accompany them for… ahem, propriety’s sake—the group finally set off toward the noble quarter of town.

It didn’t take long to reach the town center, especially on horseback. Despite the winter chill, the streets were lively. Austro-Hungarian nobles wandered from boutique to boutique, many of them also on horseback. A few carriages stood parked near the restaurants, already half-buried in snow—perhaps their owners had assumed they wouldn’t need to move them, though that seemed to have been a miscalculation…

The group stopped at one of the coach houses, where several other horses and carriages had already been left. There, they dismounted and arranged for the stable workers to care for their mounts. After a brief exchange about the animals’ needs, they stepped back outside, ready to explore the bustling winter town on foot.

Or, well, not exactly explore, since Lizzy had already told them what they were here for in the first place… to get Lovina and Feliciana some specific dresses. Italian style, of course. So instead of wandering aimlessly, they had to find a boutique, or a modiste, with Italian influence.

They walked around for a little while, scanning the boutiques, hoping to find one that looked suitably Italianized. It wasn’t until Feliciana suddenly pointed toward a particular shop that they spotted something promising.

Next to its entrance, in bold letters, was the word “Serica.” Feliciana immediately recognized it, guessing it was a made-up word derived from “serico”—the Italian word for silk. Lovina nodded in agreement, confirming her sister’s hunch.

With that, they had found what they were looking for. Wasting no time, they stepped inside, not just because their search was over, but also to escape the biting cold and the sharp gusts of wind that made it unbearable to linger outside…

As the door shut behind them, a small silver bell above it gave a light clang, signaling their arrival. There was little chance to take in their surroundings before a small group of women appeared. At a glance, it was clear they weren’t Austrian, their relaxed manner ruled that out. Nor were they Hungarian; they carried themselves too freely. No, it was plain to see, not even guesswork, that they were Italian.

The Italian workers all paused, turning to their new customers with surprised, slightly puzzled expressions. They studied the group, clearly wondering why they hadn’t removed their cloaks yet… and that’s when it finally dawned on Gilbert too, that… wait a moment… they couldn’t. How was this supposed to work, anyway? If they took anything off, they’d be recognized instantly. Especially Lovina and Feliciana. These women were Italian… they’d definitely recognize their former royalty…

Had Roderich not thought of this? He had looked tired, and rushed back to work right after brunch. Maybe with everything on his plate—planning, organizing, dealing with ball preparations—this little detail had slipped his mind. That would explain why he’d been so quick to support his wife’s idea…

But what about Lizzy? Had she just not seen it as a problem? Or had she thought it through and figured they could handle it? What was up with that? Wasn’t that contradictory to what Roderich had said? That nobody should see or recognize them?

And how had it not even crossed his mind until now? Oh, right—he’d been too busy thinking about the Italian girl…

Damn. Love really was both a blessing and a curse.

“Welcome,” one of the women called out in a heavily accented German, her smile warm as she greeted them. The sound snapped the albino out of his thoughts. “Are you in need of anything?”

“Ah, well—” he started, clearing his throat, but didn’t get much further. He cleared it again, more awkwardly this time, then grabbed his brother by the arm and took a step back. The other let out a confused noise, eyebrows rising.

“Just a moment, please…!” Gilbert added quickly. The woman nodded, stepping back with a polite smile.

He leaned in, lowering his voice as he whispered to his brother, “I don’t think this is a good idea…”

Ludwig gave him a puzzled look. “Uh… why?” he whispered back.

And Gilbert was just about to answer…! He opened his mouth, ready to explain exactly what was wrong with all this… when suddenly, a chorus of loud gasps and a flurry of shocked Italian erupted around them. Both brothers turned instinctively toward the commotion… and froze.

Their faces paled.

There, right in the middle of the boutique, stood Lovina and Feliciana, having just shrugged off their hoods and cloaks entirely. Their handmaids appeared to have tried stopping them, judging by their defeated expressions, but clearly failed.

The boutique workers, meanwhile, had already recognized them. With delighted smiles, they curtsied to the former royalty, then immediately burst into joyful chatter. Lovina and Feliciana seemed just as pleased, responding eagerly, laughing, and answering the stream of excited questions being thrown their way.

“…Oh.” Ludwig murmured, as the full implication of what he was seeing finally sank in.

The Prussian let out a low sigh, trying not to let it get to him, but it was hard. If Roderich found out about this—no, when he found out—he wouldn’t be able to pretend no one had seen them. Because people had seen them. And even though Roderich had agreed to the plan, had even encouraged it, for heaven’s sake, he’d still find a way to blame Gilbert.

And that was so unfair! It wasn’t even his fault!

But that wouldn’t stop Roderich from biting his head off when word spread among the locals before the ball. He could already hear the ranting, the insults, the accusations. And trying to argue, “Well, people were going to find out eventually,” (by which he meant at the ball, obviously) would be completely useless. Roderich would just go berserk, yelling at him for not thinking things through… as usual.

Man, it was hard finding common ground with that guy, even if they were related by blood…

Gilbert brought a hand to his face, dragging it down with a groan before letting out an even more burdened sigh. Ludwig gave him a concerned look.

“Word about this is going to spread like wildfire and Roderich is going to kill me…” he muttered, half to himself.

Ludwig tried to offer some comfort, patting him on the shoulder. “I don’t think he’ll go that far… Miss Elizabeta can talk to him. Or maybe—” he paused, trying to be optimistic, “we could ask the people here not to say anything?” He gestured toward the group of women now swarming around Lovina and Feliciana.

Gilbert tried to take comfort in his brother’s words, but he still felt the shadow of doom (Roderich) looming. Italians weren’t exactly known for keeping secrets. One person would tell another, and then they’d tell someone else, and so on…

“Yeah… we’ll see…” he mumbled, nodding. With a resigned breath, he pulled back his hood and shrugged off his cloak entirely.

Ludwig gazed at him in surprise.

“What?” the albino said, gesturing toward the Italian sisters. “Might as well. It’s already out in the open.”

Ludwig stared at him for a moment, then gave a small nod. “I suppose.” he uttered, and followed suit, removing his hood and unclasping his cloak as well.

It wasn’t until then that one of the women politely excused herself from the group gathered around the former princesses and made her way back to Gilbert and Ludwig. She bowed now, unlike when she first approached, her welcoming smile somehow growing even brighter, if that were possible.

“But if we had known we’d be receiving royalty today, we would’ve prepared ourselves much better!” she exclaimed cheerfully. “Your Majesties, don’t just stand by the door—come inside, please!”

Gilbert let out a small, awkward chuckle, trying not to die a little inside. “We… weren’t supposed to be seen by the public…” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Especially not them… and not before the—well, the ball.”

His gaze flicked briefly to Lovina and Feliciana, chatting happily across the room, before turning back to the boutique worker with a remorseful expression.

She gave Gilbert a puzzled look. “Not seen before the ball? Our principesse?” (princesses?) she repeated, then clarified, “Your Majesty, are you referring to the ball hosted by the Emperor and Empress?”

The king nodded.

At that, the woman paused, considering something quietly before giving a respectful tilt of her head. Her tone, though still warm, held a deep sincerity as she spoke in her heavily accented German.

“Your Majesties, I mean no offence to His Imperial Majesty,” she began carefully, “but… if not for seeing my true rulers today—” And you’ll notice, she used the word ‘true’, likely on purpose, when referring to the girls, the last royal bloodline of the Italian nation.

And notably, she hadn’t said “former princesses.” Perhaps to her, they were still her only royals. Maybe it was her way of saying she did not yet view the Emperor as the man she wished to follow, with the whole sovereignty issue and all…

“I would not have attended His ball.” she finished plainly.

At that, both Ludwig and Gilbert stared at her, their expressions morphing into stunned ones. That was… not the answer they’d expected.

“Huh?” they said in unison.

The woman offered another graceful bow, then pressed on.

“Again, I mean no disrespect to His good name,” she said, “but… when my husband received the royal invitation, he had no intention of attending. ‘Non è il mio Imperatore!’ he told me—‘He is not my Emperor!’”

But then her expression brightened a little. “Though he may very well change his mind when I tell him that Princess Lovina and Princess Feliciana will also be attending!” she exclaimed, clearly pleased by the idea.

She then gestured toward the nearby waiting benches. “But please, do not weary your feet, Your Majesties!”

The brothers obliged, taking their seats as requested. With another respectful bow, the woman added, “I’ll return to my princesses now, if you’ll excuse me.” And with that, she scurried away.

The two brothers sat in silence on the couch, still a bit surprised, both quietly thinking about the ball situation… and how the woman had said she and her husband hadn’t even planned to attend.

“Brother,” Ludwig suddenly whispered. “Do you think most Italians feel the same way?”

Gilbert shrugged. “Not sure… but it’d definitely mess up the whole ‘ball for union’ plan Roderich and Lizzy put together.”

“For sure…”

But be that as it may, they didn’t linger long on those rather pressing thoughts, if I’m being completely honest, because things aren’t exactly quiet in a boutique shop. Especially not one filled with… Italians.

The place soon grew livelier as the women began gesturing for the former princesses to perhaps head into the other room, and before they knew it, Feliciana had come bouncing over to the seated Germans.

“Me and Lovina will go ahead and get our measurements done!” she announced brightly.
Before they could even get a word in, let alone a simple “Okay”, the girl had already spun around and skipped after her sister, disappearing into the adjacent room with a few of the ladies and their handmaids, leaving the Germans behind in the main parlor of the boutique. Not quite alone, though—there were still a few women busy tending to the fabrics.

“Well…” the Prussian muttered as he glanced around the room, which was filled with all sorts of fabrics and clothing materials, none of them even remotely Germanic in style. “I wonder how long that’ll take…”

“Mhm.” his brother hummed in agreement, his gaze also drifting around the colorful space.

They hadn’t had a chance to take in their surroundings when they first stepped inside, distracted by the commotion. But now, with things quieter, the boutique revealed itself as surprisingly vibrant. The Latin-inspired decor invited one to linger, wrapping the space in a warmth that stood in sharp contrast to the cooler, more rigid style typical of Austrian design.

The materials were rich and bold: deep crimson, midnight blue, forest green. Many of the garments were trimmed with lace, ribbons, and elaborate detailing, made from velvet, silk, or brocade. Interestingly, none of the fabrics featured gold or silver embroidery—perhaps a smart choice, given that the nearby display cases already showcased plenty of it. The mannequins wore gold and silver jewelry, even a few pearls, which kept the overall look from feeling excessive.

This style was markedly different from what was typical back home, and from Austrian fashion, too. There, the palette leaned heavily on maroon, navy, dark green, brown, and especially black. Always so much black. Almost every dress was decorated with shiny gold or silver accents, and when paired with matching jewelry, the result could be a bit overwhelming. Not necessarily a flaw, but still… the contrast was interesting.

As they continued looking around, the blond suddenly stood, catching his brother’s attention.

“Where are you going?” Gilbert asked.

“I just want to take a closer look at the fabrics.” Ludwig replied before turning and walking toward the display of cloth and ribbons.

Gilbert got up too. With nothing better to do than sit around alone, he hurried after him. “I’ll join you.”

Ludwig didn’t seem to mind, so they approached the drawers filled with the same colorful fabrics they had noticed earlier. The younger German placed a hand on his chin, eyes quietly scanning from deep red to green, then to blue, and onward, clearly deep in thought.

Gilbert watched him, wondering whether he really just wanted to look at the fabrics... or if there was something else on his mind.

“I like this one.” the albino said, pointing to a strip of dark crimson fabric, neatly arranged among others that faded from lighter to deeper shades.

His brother looked at the fabric and gave it a quick once-over.

“Red?” he asked flatly, earning a chuckle from Gilbert.

“What’s wrong with red?”

“I don’t know… it’s kind of—eh.” Ludwig replied with a shrug.

The Prussian raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Eh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ludwig glanced away for a moment, as if debating whether to say more. But then he seemed to push the hesitation aside. He turned back to his brother and said something that all but confirmed Gilbert’s earlier suspicions…

“Feliciana…” he began quietly. “When I helped her up on Eisen, she told me how much she admires her sister’s hair accessory… said she wished she had something like it, too. And I just…” He trailed off, clearing his throat as if each word had to be pulled from somewhere deep inside him. “I’m not sure if red is the right choice.”

He glanced over the other colors in the drawer, but Gilbert could hardly focus on the fabrics anymore… he could only see the obvious truth in front of him.

“Ludwig…” he murmured. “Do you—”

But before he could finish, Ludwig cut in—his voice carrying a rare flash of certainty—as he said: “Gilbert, I want to propose to Feliciana.”

There was a brief silence as Gilbert processed his brother’s words. Propose? And once the word fully landed, he burst out:

“WHAT?!”

Several women nearby turned with startled looks, but the albino quickly forced an awkward laugh and a nervous smile. Once the seamstresses returned to their work, he leaned in and hissed in a whisper-shout: “Propose?! To… to Feliciana?!”

Sure, he’d suspected Ludwig fancied the girl, he’d seen the way his brother looked at her, how he acted around her, but marriage? Already? He hadn’t thought Ludwig had it all planned out that far! Marriage?! Seriously?!

Ludwig gave a small, shy nod. “Yeah…” he muttered, almost nervously.

But that wasn’t nearly enough for Gilbert. Not by a long shot.

“Ludwig, are you—you’re serious?!” Gilbert asked, eyes wide.

But the look on his brother’s face said it all. Not just serious… very serious. As serious as Gilbert had ever seen him.

He stared, mouth slightly agape, still trying to process it. It took him a few solid seconds to pull himself together. When he finally did, he gave his head a small shake as if to clear it, then leaned in close and whispered, quiet enough for only Ludwig to hear:

“Alright… marriage is… well, it’s marriage.” He glanced aside, clearly fumbling for the right words. “But you have to love her to…”

He trailed off, unsure how to finish, so he started again.

“You can’t leap into something that big just because you like someone. Liking someone and loving someone… those are two completely different things.”

He should know. Fancying a woman was fleeting, but love... love lasted. It made you ache to see her happy, to shield her from everything cruel in the world. It made you yearn for her presence, not for thrills, but for the certainty of simply being near her.

Love is... how could he describe it? A fire, yes, an unpredictable flame that never dies, no matter what. And when you truly love a woman, it consumes you, slowly, completely.

That was love. And if Ludwig only liked Feliciana…

But before he could voice that thought, Ludwig’s brows furrowed. “I do love her,” he said firmly, a rare edge in his voice. “I do.”

Gilbert gave him an uncertain look. “Are you sure—”

“Yes! How can I not be sure?!” Ludwig cut in sharply, his voice rising before he quickly reined it in, glancing around the room at the workers. After a brief, awkward clearing of his throat, he added in a quieter tone: “Do you not believe me?”

Gilbert let out a dry, half-hearted laugh. “No, no… it’s just—marriage is a real commitment. You have to truly love someone to—”

“I told you I love her!” Ludwig snapped again, more hurt this time than angry.

But Gilbert still wasn’t convinced. He leaned in, more serious now. “And how do you know that?”

"How?!" Ludwig echoed, stunned, as if the question itself were an insult. But after a moment, he exhaled and seemed to collect himself. His hand rose slowly to his chest, his gaze dropping to the floor. Gilbert watched the shift, not just to seriousness, but to something more emotional, perhaps even… vulnerable.

Before he could say a word, Ludwig spoke again.

“These past few months, I’ve gotten to know her…” he said. “At first, I thought she was too friendly for her own good. Too touchy, too curious. I kept wanting to get away from her, for peace of mind.”

He let out a small sigh… then chuckled. Chuckled. Gilbert’s eyes widened a bit. Ludwig didn’t usually laugh about memories...

“But,” Ludwig went on, “the more I left and came back, the more restless I got when I was away. I started to want to be near her. And suddenly, the things that used to overwhelm me… I found them endearing.”

He paused, as if surprised by his own words.

“I think about her constantly. Her voice, her smile, her eyes… everything. I wonder what she’d think, how she’d react. I want to make her smile. I can’t focus on anything else. It’s like… I’m under a spell.”

Gilbert felt something shift in him then, as if he didn’t just hear the words, but felt them. And in that moment, he realized his brother had told him the truth: he did love the younger former princess.

“Every time I’d go home,” Ludwig continued, “I couldn’t wait to return to Austria. To her. And when I couldn’t see her, it almost hurt. I missed her so badly it made me agitated. I’ve been doing things I never thought I’d do…”

Yeah, tell me about it, Gilbert thought dryly.

“And there’s this… burning in my chest. Not painful. Just… frustrating. Like it has nowhere to go unless I see her. I’ve never felt like this before.”

He drew in a deep breath, then raised his gaze and looked his brother directly in the eye. His expression was open, sincere.

“So, to answer your question… I do love her, brother. So much that I left my duties in Germany without a second thought, just to be here... with her.”

Gilbert listened, surprised by the earnestness in his brother’s voice. Genuinely shocked, even. He realised, with a strange sort of jolt, that all the sentiments Ludwig had just described… were exactly what he felt for Lovina. That same constant thinking, that same longing, the ache, the frustration. He had thought he was losing his mind over her until a French merchant had kindly pointed out what it actually was. (Love)

And now, as he looked into his brother’s eyes, he understood that Ludwig felt it too. He truly was in love with the youngest former princess, wasn’t he?

Gilbert swallowed, unsure of what to say. But he knew he had to say something. Finally, he exhaled and let the only thing that came to mind slip out:

“I suppose… I have no choice but to trust your words.”

Ludwig looked up, and his expression subtly shifted, just enough for Gilbert to catch that flicker of relief and gratitude. But before the moment could settle, however, the Prussian raised a finger, pointing at him.

“But… are you sure you want to pop the question this soon?”

Ludwig’s brow furrowed again. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he exclaimed, sounding even more insulted than before.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t,” the albino tried to explain, “I just… I think... you’re young! You should live your life first, you know?”

But all he earned for his trouble was an even more displeased look from his brother.

“Yeah, and end up like you?” Ludwig shot back. “Pushing mid-twenties and still ruling a kingdom on your own? No thanks.”

“Eh?!” Gilbert huffed. “Mid-twenties isn’t even that bad!”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me married before you!” the blond fired back, and Gilbert gasped dramatically, though it wasn’t like it wasn’t true. It wasn’t common for younger siblings to get married before their older ones, and the very thought made him feel… outdone. Still, to point it out like that? Low blow, Ludwig.

“And that’s an ego problem you’ll have to sort out on your own!” Ludwig continued, then added firmly, “But I’m still going to propose.”

“But have you even thought if she wants to marry you?” Gilbert blurted out, as if trying to strengthen his argument. Though… the moment the words left his mouth, he realized how… discouraging they sounded.

The younger German seemed to pick up on that as well. He stared at Gilbert for a brief moment, then crossed his arms, looking off to the side with a slight frown. “Wow, thanks for the encouragement, Gilbert. Make sure to add, ‘She probably despises you’ to that while you’re at it, will you?”

Gilbert waved his hands dismissively, scrambling to fix his mistake. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

Ludwig let out a quiet sigh. “Well, whatever. I’m still going to ask her. Whether she says yes or no, that’s her choice, and it’ll be my burden to carry or my joy to hold.”

He turned to face his brother then, and the look he gave wasn’t scolding or sharp, but something else… pointed, yes… but almost understanding. And why it felt that way, Gilbert couldn’t quite tell.

Not until Ludwig spoke again.

"But if it’s your ego you’re worried about," he said with an oddly calm tone, "you could always do the same thing.”

And just like that, Gilbert stiffened. His whole body felt like it forgot how to move. Because he realised… exactly what Ludwig was implying.

"Do the same thing? What are you…" He tried to play it off, waving his hands to dismiss the insinuation. But Ludwig wasn’t having any of it.

“Gilbert,” he cut in abruptly, “you probably think you’re very good at hiding how you feel, but I have never in my life seen you lift someone onto a horse while so clearly lost in a daydream, and then stare off into the distance like you’ve just been struck by Cupid himself!”

Well. That confirmed it.

Ludwig knew.

He knew.

So much for being slick... Gilbert had truly believed he’d kept it all under wraps. But maybe… it was just a sibling thing. He had managed to read Ludwig, too, after all. Perhaps there was no fooling family when it came to matters of the heart…

“That’s… that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” the Prussian exclaimed, letting out an awkward laugh, trying to mask the heat creeping into his face.

But Ludwig wasn’t fooled in the slightest.

“I know it’s unexpected—kind of ironic, even—that Feliciana’s older sister, the one I’m so devoted to, just so happens to be the one you’ve gone and fallen for. They’re sisters, we’re brothers… it’s almost too poetic. But come on, Gilbert! You can’t deny it, not when it was written all over your face!”

Gilbert didn’t respond. He just stared at Ludwig with a blank expression—because how else was he supposed to react?

Upon seeing that, the blond let out a sharp breath and shook his head. “Fine, go ahead and act clueless! I’m not trying to push you into anything… just… sharing a thought.”

Now, if we’re being honest, Gilbert would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t want to marry Lovina. What man, when truly enamoured with a woman, wouldn’t want to spend the rest of his life by her side? It was fortunate, for both him and Ludwig, that neither of them was bound to marry for political reasons. Their kingdom already had plenty of allies, some of which were powerful empires, and one of those empires was even ruled by their cousin. That made things simpler.

But even with no real barriers standing between him and the woman he dreamed of, one thing still pressed down on him: the possibility that she didn’t feel the same. And rather than risk destroying the beautiful connection they already shared, he chose to keep his feelings tucked away.

It was funny, really… he wasn’t usually one to play it safe. Especially not in war. But this wasn’t war. This was love.

And as the old saying goes: “All’s fair in love and war.”

Gilbert’s gaze shifted to the polished floor of the boutique before returning to his brother’s serious expression. With a deep sigh, he tried to untangle the thoughts swirling in his mind.

“I don’t want things to change between us...” he began, and the rigid look on Ludwig’s face softened. He regarded Gilbert differently now, as if sensing a tender subject approaching.

“I know she longed for a true friend, someone she could rely on. She was rather lonely back in Spain.” A sigh escaped the albino. “And I don’t want her to see me, if her feelings don’t match mine, as just another man after... well, what too many men want from young women. I’m not claiming to be a saint, but...” He trailed off, struggling to find the right words. “If she saw me that way, it would crush me.”

Ludwig blinked, clearly taken aback by his brother’s honesty, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“I don’t want to risk ruining a friendship just because of my own feelings.” Gilbert finished, clearing his throat as awkwardness crept in. He hoped his brother had at least understood what he meant.

Ludwig didn’t answer right away. His expression stayed thoughtful, as if studying his older sibling… and it wasn’t until after a long silence that he finally spoke.

“Brother, you’ve become rather pitiful.”

“Huh?! Pitiful?!” Gilbert blinked in disbelief. That was the last thing he expected to hear. Pitiful?!

“Yup.” Ludwig gave a short nod, then pointed at him. “How is that the first thing on your mind? Why not wonder if she feels the same way?”

The albino had no response to that. He was still caught on the title Ludwig had just used. “Well, I don’t know…” he muttered, uncertainty plain in his voice.

Ludwig raised an eyebrow at his brother’s lack of conviction, then rolled his eyes in a mix of disbelief and disapproval. “Yeah, well, that’s exactly it. You don’t know. And you can’t know if she feels the same way about you or if she just wants to be friends. But you’ll never know unless you try.”

It was something in the way Ludwig said it, or maybe it was just the truth of the words themselves, that struck Gilbert harder than he expected. He blinked at his brother, his expression dumbstruck. Truth be told, Ludwig’s words were spot on. There’s an old saying: You never know what’ll happen until you try. Whether the outcome’s good or bad, you’ll waste time dwelling on the worst possibility, when there’s always a chance for something good too. You just have to be brave enough to take the risk…

“And here I thought older siblings were supposed to give life-changing advice, not the other way around.” Ludwig said, his tone almost a snide remark. It did its job, though.

Gilbert let out a soft laugh—it was rather funny, even though his mind was still stuck on Ludwig’s earlier words. He paused, letting his gaze drift around the room: across the floor, the fabrics… the ribbons. Wait… the ribbons. His eyes lingered on one, and he remembered why they had come before the fabrics in the first place. Studying the color carefully, he raised a hand and abruptly pointed at it.

“You should get the blue one.” he said.

“Hm?” Ludwig replied, clearly not understanding what Gilbert meant.

So, the Prussian quickly corrected himself. “The blue ribbon.”

“Blue? For…” Ludwig trailed off, finally realizing what his brother was hinting at.

“Mhm.” Gilbert nodded. “It’s something she’d like. I’ve seen her wear a lot of blue on my visits.”

“Ah, you’re right...” the blond murmured, his expression brightening as if he’d just been enlightened by his brother’s insight.

“Oh, and tell her you thought of her when you saw it. It’ll make her happier.” Gilbert added, giving his brother a light pat on the shoulder and offering a small smile. He was speaking from experience.

“Hmmm, I’ll take your word for it. Thanks, brother.”

“Don’t mention it.” With that, the albino turned to leave. “I’ll go sit down.”

The conversation had been a lot to process, and he needed a moment to mull it over. But just before he could take a step, something from earlier that day came to mind, and he couldn’t help but bring it up. It might have been connected to what Ludwig had told him… about his wish to propose to the youngest former Italian princess.

“Oh, by the way… was that why you were with Roderich this morning?” he asked. (It hadn’t exactly been morning—it was well past that—but since Gilbert had only just woken up then, it felt like morning to him. So let’s stick with that.) “To ask him about...?” His voice trailed off, and Ludwig gave a small nod in response.

“Yeah… given that she’s under his care, I figured it was the norm to ask for his blessing before making a move,” the boy explained with a small chuckle. “But I got cold feet when you walked in.”

“Ah, I messed up your plan. Sorry about that!” Gilbert replied, offering a guilty look.

“It’s fine. There’s still time.” his brother said, his attention now on the dark blue fabric Gilbert had suggested.

The Prussian watched him for a short moment before letting out, “Well, you have my blessing, so do as you wish.” At that, Ludwig allowed himself a small smile in response.

“I’m glad.”

With the conversation winding down, Gilbert started heading toward the seating area again. But just as he took a few steps, his brother’s voice called out after him.

“Brother?”

Gilbert turned, brow raised. “Hm?”

"Just so you know, you have my blessing as well." Ludwig added casually, his attention already back on the fabric, as though his sentence weren’t as weighty as it truly was.

Gilbert paused, staring at his brother as the words sank in.
“Uh… alright...” he murmured, quiet and unsure, unable to think of anything else to say. He turned, a bit stiffly, and made his way back to the couches, his mind spinning with everything that had just been said.

He couldn’t shake the echo of Ludwig’s advice: “You’ll never know unless you try.”
Those words had urged him, subtly but clearly, to take a risk if he truly wanted to be brave in matters of the heart. And as much as Gilbert hated to admit it, he had been a coward when it came to love. Ever since discovering his feelings, even long before that, he had been too afraid to act, too afraid of ruining what he already had with Lovina.

But maybe, one day, he would find the courage to take that risk… when the time was right.

He clung to that thought, telling himself that someday, whenever that day came, he would be brave enough.

Not today, though…

For now, it was enough just to believe that he could be.

Gilbert returned to the couches, settling in and resting one boot on his knee. He let his mind wander, deliberately pushing aside the thoughts that had consumed him just moments before, trying to think of anything else…

After Ludwig purchased the strip of dark blue fabric, having it carefully folded into a small box by one of the workers, he joined his brother on the seats. The two of them sat in silence, waiting for Lovina and Feliciana to finish… whatever it was they were doing now. Getting measurements, was it?

It took another half hour, or maybe closer to an hour, before the two girls finally emerged from the other room, followed by the women who had taken their measurements. As soon as Ludwig saw them, he sprang to his feet and quickly led Feliciana to the side, eager to present her with the gift he had bought.

When Feliciana opened the box and saw what was inside, her face lit up with joy. She spun around, beaming, and showered Ludwig with thanks for his kindness. Ludwig, following Gilbert’s advice, said just the right words, making the young girl even happier than before.

Excited, Feliciana called for her handmaid to help style her hair with the new accessory—not the same way her sister was wearing it, but instead tied in a neat bow around her ponytail. The result was lovely. She hurried to the mirror, spinning to admire it from every angle, her face glowing so brightly she could’ve rivaled the sun.

Lovina, watching this, rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a small, approving smile. She was content seeing how happy the gesture had made her sister, who, after a moment, declared that they were now matching.

Gilbert watched all of this with an amused look, though his gaze lingered most on Lovina. For a moment, he forgot that Roderich would likely be furious once he found out they’d all been spotted, and far too well, at that…

After paying for the materials needed to make the dresses the girls had discussed with the seamstresses, along with the other items they'd selected with the help of the shop assistants, and receiving assurances that the dresses would be delivered to the palace in a few days, they thanked the ladies for their service and made their way back to the palace.

On the way, Gilbert asked his brother when he planned to propose. Ludwig admitted he wasn’t quite sure yet, just that it would be soon, and added that he was waiting for the right moment. Gilbert didn’t really know what that meant, but figured Ludwig had it all worked out and didn’t press him further…

It wasn’t until they arrived at the palace that the Prussian suddenly remembered a very important detail that had completely slipped his mind. He’d been too focused on everything else—his thoughts, his brother, the former princesses—to recall the issue they were currently knee-deep in: they’d been seen by the public.

A sense of panic rose in him the moment Lizzy and Roderich began questioning how everything had gone. Meanwhile, Feliciana led Lovina to one of the drawing rooms, urging her older sister to join her for a sketching session—it had been so long since they’d last done one, and it was a pastime both girls enjoyed. Ludwig stayed with Gilbert, offering support… well, somewhat, so he wouldn’t have to face the predicament alone.

But the truth was, neither of them felt particularly calm about the situation…

“So? What colours did the girls choose?” Elizabeta asked as she sat beside her husband on the sofa near the fire, its crackling warmth and light joined by the soft glow of torches around the room. “I’m not very familiar with what’s fashionable in Italy these days.” She smiled and gently rested her head on Roderich’s shoulder.

Ludwig just stared at Gilbert with an uneasy look. Gilbert returned the same expression before glancing back at Elizabeta, then offering her an awkward smile and laugh. “Ah, colours? Uhm, I don’t… uh—” He paused, realizing with a start that he’d completely forgotten to ask.

Lovina had told him the design screamed Italian, he remembered that part well, but the colour? It hadn’t even crossed his mind…

“We forgot to ask about the colours…” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But! Lovina did say the design was very Italian, so—no worries on that front!”

“Oh, well then,” Elizabeta replied with the same easy tone as before, clearly unbothered. “It’ll be a surprise, I suppose!”

Gilbert let out another nervous laugh, trying to match the mood, but it came out so strained that it only made things more awkward. Ludwig gave him a discreet nudge with his elbow, trying to get him to just stop, as the albino was definitely not helping...

“And did they get their measurements too?” Lizzy suddenly asked, and the Prussian fell even more silent than he already was. He didn’t respond. Seeing that, Ludwig stepped in to answer.

“Uh, yeah, naturally. You can’t have new attire made without measurements…” he said, trailing off as both he and Gilbert found themselves under the couple’s oddly scrutinizing gazes.

“Well, of course,” Elizabeta replied with a nod. Then, with unnerving calm, she added something that even managed to quiet Ludwig: “Did they take off their cloaks for that?”

Silence. Both Germans said nothing. Because, frankly, no matter how they answered, it was going to sound… exactly like what it was.

Gilbert avoided everyone’s eyes, staring intently at the floor. Ludwig, meanwhile, appeared suddenly fascinated by the walls…

That, of course, didn’t escape the couple’s notice. Roderich tilted his head in confusion and asked, “Well? Did they, or didn’t they?”

Still, the brothers said nothing.

Roderich raised an eyebrow. “Have you both suddenly lost the ability to speak?”

Ludwig shook his head—no. Gilbert, at the same time, nodded—yes.

That only made Roderich and Elizabeta stare at them in greater confusion.

“Getting measurements…” Gilbert muttered suddenly, his voice barely above a mumble. “Requires... well... not many layers...” He didn’t raise his gaze. His brother gave him a sidelong glance, then turned his attention back to the walls.

“So...?” Lizzy pressed, clearly eager for more.

And just like that, both Germans launched into a frantic defense. They rambled over each other, desperately justifying everything to rid themselves of blame. They’d planned to be vigilant, they swore! They hadn’t wanted anyone to see, but somehow Lovina and Feliciana had to take off their cloaks for the measurements, and the workers at the boutique just... recognized them! But it wasn’t their fault! How else were they supposed to get the right measurements for new clothes? Certainly not with a heavy cloak! And it was only the Italians who’d seen them! No one else…! Honestly, they’d put their cloaks back on right away!

Through it all, Roderich and Elizabeta sat silently, watching them with unreadable expressions. Finally, as if trying to salvage what was left of their dignity, Gilbert added quickly, hoping to improve their chances of surviving Roderich’s wrath:

“But! Just so you know! One of the seamstresses told us that she and her husband wouldn’t have attended the ball if they hadn’t known that, well, their... uh, royalty—formal royalty—would be there! So, let’s not see it as a bad thing…”

And you know that expression about your hair turning grey in stressful situations? Well, that was how Gilbert felt right then, but with his hair already white, it didn’t quite apply. Ludwig, beside him, tried his best not to show how close he was to an early grave himself.

Perhaps they’d overthought this whole thing. Or perhaps they shouldn’t have felt this anxious at all, because, as soon as Gilbert finished his desperate explanation, Roderich and Elizabeta both jumped up from the couch, beaming as if they’d just received the best news of their lives.

“Ah, yes! Yes, yes, yes!” Elizabeta exclaimed, pumping her fist in triumph.

Even Roderich, uncharacteristically happy, turned to his cousins with an expression of rare enthusiasm. “Truly, what a tremendous help you’ve been! Honestly, Gilbert, I’m impressed.”

Ludwig and Gilbert exchanged bewildered glances. Both had expected their cousin to… I don’t know, scream at them for allowing that! Not… praise them? What was going on? Clearly not getting any answers by staying silent, Gilbert finally voiced what they were both thinking.

“Why are you so… happy about this?” he asked, cautious. “I mean, it’s not a bad thing, sure… haha…” He laughed nervously, then frowned slightly as a memory surfaced. “But I distinctly remember you saying something like…” He cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and imitated Roderich’s refined tone: “‘Nobody should see them before the ball!’”

Ludwig gave a firm nod beside him, backing his brother’s point.

Roderich stared at them, confused. Elizabeta wore a similar look. Then, after a brief pause, something clicked. He shook his head slowly, almost in disbelief.

“Gilbert,” he said, “I never said nobody should see them before the ball.”

Both Germans just stared at him.

Roderich raised an eyebrow and clarified, “I said it was important that no Austro-Hungarians see them before the ball. I didn’t say anything about the Italians.”

Still nothing. Just more blinking.

“Uh… what?” Gilbert asked, completely lost.

Roderich let out a deep sigh, visibly annoyed now. “Were either of you listening when I explained this after brunch? Before I went to my office?” He looked at the albino. “Gilbert?”

The Prussian gave a helpless shrug. “I… don’t remember.” Truth be told, he’d been too busy watching Lovina…

Roderich turned to the younger one. “Ludwig?”

Ludwig looked just as guilty. He’d been too focused on Feliciana at the time to catch a word of what Roderich had said…

The silence from both men made it painfully clear just how much attention they’d paid earlier. Elizabeta gave a small, disapproving shake of her head, while Roderich sighed—again. He looked over at his cousins, clearly debating whether or not it was even worth explaining. But, eventually, he decided to spell it out, especially since the point had clearly flown right over their heads.

(And in Ludwig’s case, that was admittedly surprising. He was usually the more attentive of the two. But given the presence of a certain Italian girl, the couple figured they knew exactly why that hadn't been the case… so really, they weren’t all that surprised anymore.)

“I told you both to keep away from Austrians and Hungarians,” Roderich began, his tone patient but tinged with irritation. “To them, even if the girls no longer hold official royal titles, they still carry the reputation of royalty. If the Austro-Hungarian nobility finds out that the former princesses, especially ones from a territory I absorbed, are official guests at the ball, it could cause quite a stir. And considering the other political tensions involving the Spanish Empire, particularly with Lovina… well, it would only add fuel to the fire. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Perhaps it won’t even become an issue. I’ve chosen not to dwell on it.”

He adjusted his glasses, though his lingering expression betrayed that he very much was dwelling on it.

“To the nobility, it might seem suggestive... Something like: ‘Official guests? Does that mean they still hold rank? But we already have rulers. Are they trying to reclaim their titles? And here, of all places? Latin royalty on Austro-Hungarian soil? Absolutely not.’ That kind of nonsense. Of course, that’s not what we’re doing. Feliciana’s been here for six months, and I haven’t once referred to her as the Princess of Austria, or anything close. But it’s the mindset… they see what they want to see. Many of them still don’t fully accept the Italian region as part of the empire. It’s pride. It’s old bloodlines. It’s slow, stubborn politics. And if they feel insulted or uncertain, they’ll simply choose not to attend. We'd be left with a ballroom full of empty titles and very little actual influence. It’s inconvenient. But not unmanageable.”

He paused, then narrowed his eyes slightly. “You said none of the Austro-Hungarian nobles recognized the girls, yes?”

Gilbert nodded. None of those people had actually recognized or noticed them when they’d traveled through town. Everyone had gone about their business, as if they were insignificant, not swarming them as though they knew they were royalty. The only ones who had seen them were those Italian seamstresses…

“Good,” Roderich said, giving a small nod of approval. “That’s exactly what we needed. As I was saying, such a situation is manageable because, and I know this sounds terrible, but bear with me, if they don’t know what to expect at the ball, they’ll assume things will be as they’ve always been. That sense of familiarity will draw them in. It’s comfortable, predictable.”

"Little do they know…" Elizabeta chimed in, pounding her fist into her palm with determination. "This time, it will be different!"

Roderich smiled at her fondly. "Yes, dear. Exactly. And as for our new Italian citizens…" He paused, searching for the right words to express what was on his mind. "As you told me, and we predicted, they likely won’t attend the ball. They don’t have much reason to. After all, we’re not the ones they wish to follow. My taking over northern Italy was sudden, and they’re not used to it yet. They’re still loyal to their old ruler, still clinging to old ideals. Anyone would feel the same in their position."

He sighed, looking thoughtfully at his cousins. "But we must show them that being part of the empire isn’t a bad thing. We need to show them it benefits them, keeps their beloved territory alive. And once they see that, they’ll start to form alliances, friendships even. Our people will begin to see the Italians in a different light too."

His gaze softened as he turned to Elizabeta. "Now, I realize I didn't mention this detail before, but we couldn’t include the sisters in our invitations. If the Austro-Hungarians knew they were guest, they wouldn’t attend. And the Italians... they would’ve assumed we only invited them to ensure their presence. But the truth is, they also won’t show up if they don’t know their former princesses are here. It’s a mentality thing. But, again, this is manageable. It’s all about playing our cards right."

Elizabeta nodded in agreement, picking up where her husband left off. “Exactly! That’s why Roderich only said the Austrians and Hungarians shouldn’t see them before the ball. He never mentioned anything about the Italians. Because, as you just demonstrated, the seamstress noblewomen and their husbands didn’t want to attend the ball at first. But once they saw Feliciana and Lovina and realized they’d be there, they changed their minds!” She beamed. “It’s a subtle approach, too. The modesty in the way they dressed and wearing those cloaks to conceal their identities kept it from feeling like a trick to get them to attend. If we had just outright mentioned in the invitation that Lovina and Feliciana would be there, that would’ve been too obvious. But this way, it’s natural. And as Feliciana told me, word spreads quickly among the Italians. They’ll tell their friends, their families, and soon enough, we’ll have all Italian nobility showing up, without any problems!”

She paused, allowing herself a brief breath, then continued with growing enthusiasm. "And when it comes to the Austrians and Hungarians, as Roderich said, they’ll only know what they need to know. Once they’re at the ball and realize everything, it’ll already be too late! They won’t be able to leave without making it obvious. It wouldn’t look good for them, either, being nobles and all. The same goes for the Italians! They’ll be trapped, and once they’re in that big room with everyone, avoiding interaction won’t be possible. They'll have to talk to each other, and that’s when they’ll see there’s nothing wrong with the different sides of the empire. They’ll realize how beneficial this unification is, and how they’re all in this together."

Elizabeta smiled, clearly proud of her reasoning. "It’s not just about the territories; it’s about bringing the people together. Once the people from all sides interact and see there’s no real threat, true unity will follow. It will be a massive success!"

She exhaled deeply, having spoken so quickly, then sat back with a satisfied smile, pleased with herself.

Roderich smiled at his wife, nodding in agreement, before turning toward his cousins, who stared at them in confusion. It wasn’t that they didn’t understand, but rather that they seemed to be processing what had just been said.

Gilbert, snapping out of his surprise, scratched his head and finally spoke. “Alright, that’s... I get the idea behind what you’re saying, and yes, it sounds like a solid plan, but... huh.” He paused, letting out an awkward chuckle. “Did you mention this to us before? I mean, maybe I wasn’t paying attention, but I honestly don’t remember hearing anything about it.” Ludwig gave a small, thoughtful nod, equally unsure. He, too, couldn’t recall being told about the plan, which seemed odd—after all, they had been involved in it, taking the girls to that Italian boutique and all…

Roderich and Elizabeta exchanged a brief glance before turning their attention back to the Germans. Roderich pushed his glasses up, clearing his throat as he spoke. “I’ll admit...” His voice carried an obvious reluctance, as if he hated to admit it. “I forgot to inform you about this.” He quickly followed up, as if trying to shift the blame, “But really, it doesn’t take a philosopher to figure that out. I mean, how were you expecting them to get the measurements with those thick cloaks? It would've been completely inaccurate!”

Gilbert stared at his cousin, incredulous. This guy couldn’t even admit he was at fault! “Doesn’t take a philosopher?” he repeated, disbelief thick in his voice. “So, what, I was just supposed to… figure that out?” Lizzy chuckled softly at the exchange, while Roderich nodded, as if he’d made the most obvious point in the world. “You know that’s...” Gilbert trailed off, still processing the fact that Roderich was suggesting he should’ve known, despite the clear absurdity of the situation. Did he not realize the distress he had caused him? Gilbert had thought he’d messed up. And the stress he’d put on Ludwig, too?

But then, the Prussian realized there was no point in arguing with Roderich. It would only turn into a long-winded debate with no real winner. Or if there was one (Gilbert), Roderich would still somehow claim he was right. Ludwig’s silence also made it clear he felt the same. With a resigned sigh and a subtle roll of his eyes, Gilbert relented, “No, yeah, whatever, you’re right.” His tone wasn’t exactly sincere, but neither Roderich nor Elizabeta seemed to catch it. Lizzy, however, caught the slight flicker of a smirk on Gilbert’s face, knowing full well that he wasn’t saying what he truly wanted to.

“Just... tell me next time you drag me into something like this.” the albino added with a sigh. Both Roderich and Elizabeta assured him they would, and that seemed to settle things.

Now that the matter was cleared up, Gilbert couldn’t help but feel burdened by what was to come. He had hoped the night would be as peaceful as the last, when his mind had been blissfully quiet… well, not empty exactly, but he’d been so tired he hadn’t had the chance to think. Now, though, his thoughts wouldn’t stop swirling. A political ball? His brother’s matrimonial interest in the youngest former Italian princess? His own conflicting feelings for the eldest, and what he should or shouldn’t do about them? And his brother knowing about that too? It was all too much to process. He hadn’t been fulfilling his royal duties for the past two months, but with everything on his mind, he needed a break more than ever…

Chapter Text

The days leading up to the political ball flew by, especially with it scheduled for the end of the week. Feliciana and Lovina spent nearly every waking hour together, doing anything and everything—as was only natural, considering how much lost time they had to make up for.

One afternoon, during a rare lull in the Emperor and Empress’s duties, the sisters joined them in one of the palace sitting rooms, along with the German brothers. That day, Feliciana excitedly told Lovina about the Austro-Hungarian Emperor’s remarkable piano skills. And Lovina didn’t have to just take her word for it—Roderich sat down at the instrument and began to play a difficult piece as if it were second nature, confirming just how talented he truly was.

Then, quite suddenly, Feliciana’s eyes lit up with an idea. Without hesitation, she grabbed her sister’s arm and led her over to the piano, practically glowing with pride. Lovina followed with furrowed brows, confused. But her confusion faded the moment Feliciana began praising her musical talents, declaring that she, too, could play beautifully.

Roderich looked pleasantly surprised and turned to Lovina with a polite smile.
“You play as well? Your sister speaks very highly of you. I’d be glad to hear you.”

Lovina quickly shook her head. “Ah, no, no! I’m not that good…” she protested. But her hesitation did little to stop the inevitable… somehow, Feliciana had already nudged her onto the piano bench, and now she found herself seated at the instrument, unsure how she got there.

“Come on, sorella!” the younger girl chirped, settling beside her but with no intention of interfering. She turned away from the piano to face the room instead, clasping her hands together enthusiastically. “Play something! I bet Mr. Roderich would love to hear how good you are!” Her gaze swept across the room. “And Mrs. Elizabeta! And Ludwig—oh, and Gilbert!”

At that last name, Lovina shot her a sharp, flustered look. Feliciana noticed at once and giggled, then leaned in and added in a softer voice, and in Italian, just in case: “Soprattutto Gilbert.” (Especially Gilbert.)

“Shhh!” Lovina hissed through clenched teeth, her cheeks flushing red as she swatted a hand in Feliciana’s direction.

Her sister only laughed again, then settled in more comfortably beside her on the bench, still beaming with anticipation as she waited to see what piece Lovina would choose to play.

Lovina turned back to the keys and let out a small breath, trying to rid herself of the flustered mess her sister had just made of her thoughts. (Seriously, Feliciana… have some decency!) She focused on the piano instead, her fingers hovering above the keys as she began to think.

What to play?

It had to be something impressive. She couldn’t just play anything, not with the Austro-Hungarian Emperor standing right there. After a moment of thoughtful silence, she finally settled on a piece. Then, steadying herself, she placed her hands on the piano and began to play.

The melody was a cheerful Spanish tune, one she had learned during her second month at the Spanish court. Immersing herself in the culture had been one of the few things that helped keep her from slipping into melancholy. Between lectures and formal duties, music had offered a much-needed escape. Sure, she’d been taught plenty of traditional pieces by tutors, granted to her by the royal household, who approved of her continuing her piano lessons, but this one? This one she had found on her own, learned in her own time, by her own will. And she was quite proud of that.

She played on, pouring her focus into the rhythm and doing her best to perform as flawlessly as possible. After all, a true piano master was standing beside the instrument, listening…

Roderich, for his part, seemed genuinely taken aback by her skill, and just as she’d hoped, impressed. He listened closely, his expression contemplative but content, as though he were truly enjoying every note.

(Oh, how good!)

The others in the room—attendants, servants, and all—listened as well, just as struck by her talent as the Emperor. But none of them, not a single one, was as focused, as captivated, as Gilbert.

He loved hearing Lovina play. Not just because she was gifted (though she certainly was), but because it was her. As I’ve mentioned, Gilbert had never been particularly fond of the piano. Sure, he could admit his cousin played it well—brilliantly, even—but the instrument had always felt cold and finicky to him. He’d abandoned his own lessons the moment he was allowed, convinced they were a waste of time, and far too annoying, since you always had to be perfect and all that…

But that disinterest always vanished the moment Lovina sat at the keys.

Even the first time he’d heard her play, back at the Spanish castle, something had shifted…

When she played, the piano became the most beautiful instrument in the world. He couldn’t look away… the movement of her fingers, the furrow in her brow, the way her whole body tensed with focus. He could’ve watched her for hours and still craved more.

It was moments like these that made him wish he hadn’t dropped it. Made him wish he’d gotten good, really good. Good enough to play something just for her. Something complex. Something that might sweep her off her feet.

Not that she was easy to impress.

Which, of course, only made him want to try harder.

As Lovina played, Feliciana listened with a bright smile, until a sudden idea lit up her face. She jumped to her feet, earning a puzzled glance from her sister, though Lovina didn’t miss a single note. Feliciana dashed across the room and, moments later, returned with a violin in hand, settling beside her once more.

The older girl cast her sister another quick glance, and upon seeing what she held, she immediately understood what Feliciana had in mind. Though she could play the piano as well, Feliciana much preferred the violin. It was more fun, she thought, and far more dramatic, which suited her perfectly.

She tucked the instrument under her chin, waited for just the right moment, and then joined in, her violin echoing Lovina’s melody with her own flair. Together, the sound they made was lovely. Truly beautiful. So much so, it felt like the whole room brightened up.

The sisters played like opposites in perfect harmony. Lovina, focused and precise, pressed each note with care. Feliciana, meanwhile, played like she always did, easygoing, with joy, unbothered if a note went slightly off. She probably didn’t even notice.

Ludwig listened in silence, his gaze shifting between the two girls, until it settled on the younger one and stayed there. He watched her with a certain fondness that softened the usual sternness in his face.

Not that Gilbert could say anything. He was doing the exact same thing with the older sister.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Lovina. The music was beautiful, yes, but it was her that truly held his attention. Again, he found himself wishing, aching, that he was better at piano. If only he could play like Roderich… Maybe she’d look at him the way people looked at her when she played.

The way he looked at her.

But no… He was terrible at it...

Oof, why had Roderich gotten all the musical talent in the family…

When the sisters finished their duet, the room erupted into well-earned applause: from the Emperor and Empress, Gilbert and Ludwig, and even the servants and attendants, who paused their work to join in.

Roderich turned first to Lovina, offering a small, approving smile. He praised her piano skills warmly, saying he was pleased to find someone else in the palace with a proper appreciation for music. (Not that Feliciana lacked one, of course, Roderich was simply a piano purist to the core.) Still, he made a point to commend Feliciana as well, complimenting the lightness and joy in her violin playing. So, no hard feelings there.

Elizabeta offered kind words to both sisters, and the German brothers followed suit, Gilbert in his usual loud and enthusiastic manner, clapping a bit longer than necessary, while Ludwig gave a polite but sincere nod of approval.

Another moment between the sisters was their visit to the palace gardens. Feliciana had been practically buzzing with excitement, eager to show Lovina the vast, snow-covered grounds that belonged to the Emperor and Empress. Marble sculptures peeked out between tall hedges, winding paths curved through the white landscape, and a grand fountain stood proudly at the center.

Of course, it was winter, so the flowers and most of the greenery lay hidden beneath thick blankets of snow, and the trees stood bare. But still, the snow resting over every branch and sculpted shrub made the whole scene look like something from a fairytale. Even the fountain, turned off for the season, looked nothing short of magical.

That, at least, was Feliciana’s reasoning, and her excuse for dragging her sister out into the cold. She knew full well that Lovina wasn’t fond of freezing temperatures and normally wouldn’t step outside if there was any risk of “freezing her skin off.” But this time, surprisingly, or perhaps not, Lovina agreed.

Because sometimes, you do things simply to make someone else happy. Especially when you haven’t seen that someone in a long time.

And honestly? All things considered, it was rather nice to stroll through a frozen garden with her sister… relaxing, even.

While the sisters wandered the snowy paths, Feliciana excitedly pointing out each of her favorite spots, even if most were buried under snow, inside the palace, Ludwig had struck up another conversation with Gilbert about, of all things… proposing to the youngest former princess.

Gilbert listened as his brother spoke, and at one point, briefly, he wondered if this might stir up any political consequences. Not for them, of course, but for Roderich and Elizabeta, considering the girl was under their care. It was a thought that hadn’t crossed his mind when Ludwig first mentioned his intentions. He’d been too caught up in his own thoughts. But now that the subject came up again… well, it flickered through his head, right up until Ludwig pulled out the ring, that is.

That detail, too, Gilbert had apparently ignored the first time around.

Despite being a prince, and more than wealthy, Ludwig hadn’t chosen anything flashy. The ring was simple and elegant: a white gold band etched with “forget-me-not” motifs, flanked by two small diamonds. At its center sat a single light blue sapphire, modest in size, but quite beautiful.

“Custom made,” Ludwig had said, carefully tucking the box away again. “I ordered it weeks ago, once I made up my mind. Before I left for Austria. That’s why I came.”

“To get hitched?” Gilbert had quipped, grinning.

Ludwig gave him a look. “To propose. Properly.”

Gilbert had only chuckled in response.

Another memorable moment, one that took place while the Emperor and Empress were preoccupied with preparations for the grand ball, was when Feliciana and Lovina decided to paint a landscape together. Well, it had been Lovina’s idea, but Feliciana had taken to it with her usual overabundance of joy.

They were to paint on the same canvas, which was rare in itself. In the past, Lovina might have insisted they each do their own, driven by a certain urge to compete with her younger sister. But not this time. This time, she just wanted to enjoy herself. To enjoy themselves, together.

How sweet was that?

The two girls sat side by side, fully absorbed in their brushstrokes, silently discussing how best to capture the snowy scenery before them. They had chosen to paint a section of the Austrian gardens, the same ones they had strolled through the day before, and while they aimed for realism, they allowed themselves a touch of improvisation here and there. Their handmaids stood nearby, joined by a few Austro-Hungarian servants, all keeping a respectful distance.

And, of course, Ludwig and Gilbert were there too. Because really, where else would they be, if not lingering near the Italian sisters?

Ah, lovesickness. A powerful affliction, indeed.

The brothers watched as the girls worked together, their conversation drifting between careful planning, the occasional light bickering, and bursts of laughter. Ludwig’s gaze remained soft and steady on Feliciana, while Gilbert’s eyes, unsurprisingly, rarely left Lovina. Neither seemed aware of how long they’d been standing there. Or how utterly transparent their expressions had become.

At one point, members of their courts tried to get their attention… but nothing worked. Eventually, the aides gave up, sighing quietly as they realized their rulers were too far gone… heads lost somewhere in the clouds, and hearts even further.

And there had been countless other moments like this, so many, when Gilbert felt himself falling even deeper for Lovina than he already had. Watching her laugh freely, unburdened by the shadows that once weighed her down, stirred something in him. Not just a fire, but something hotter, like molten lava coursing through his veins, replacing his blood. His infatuation only deepened, and the pull to stay at her side grew harder to resist.

But that wasn’t the only longing that surfaced…

Other desires crept in as well… insistent, impossible to ignore. He began to wonder what it would feel like to hold her hand, not in passing, but intentionally. He imagined sliding his fingers through her long, silken hair, brushing a thumb across her cheek just to feel the softness of her skin. He wanted to tuck a lock behind her ear and see her eyes flutter shut at the touch.

He imagined holding her, close, like she held her sister without hesitation, but closer still. To feel her warmth against him, her heartbeat syncing with his. And her lips… the ones she bit when frustrated, the ones he kept catching himself staring at. He thought about them more than he cared to admit. Wondered how they’d taste… warm, maybe a little sweet. Wondered how they’d feel pressed to his. God, how he wanted to know.

By now, Gilbert was certain of one thing: he was losing his mind. If anyone could see inside his head, they’d call him mad. And maybe he was. Thank heaven for the upcoming political ball, at least it might give him something else to focus on… Anything but the Italian girl who had so thoroughly undone him.

Preparations had been all but completed the day before the grand event, thanks in no small part to Roderich and Elizabeta’s tireless efforts. The ballroom had been turned into something truly beautiful: long, ornate tables held the best selection of food and drinks, with shiny silver trays filled with sweet pastries and savory snacks. Crystal glasses stood ready beside carafes of aged wine and fruit cordials. Overhead, chandeliers cast a golden light across the polished floors and embroidered banners that hung from the high ceilings. Even the finest royal musicians had been hired to perform. Every part of the event had been carefully planned. Nothing was supposed to go wrong… or so they hoped. Still, it was better to stay hopeful.

On the day of the ball, the palace swarmed with activity. Servants and attendants hurried through the halls, ensuring every last detail was perfect. Roderich and Elizabeta had already checked everything a dozen times, but still couldn't rest and insisted it all be reviewed again. They were full of nerves, especially Roderich, fussing over the importance of the event.

Meanwhile, Gilbert, who had somehow slipped away from his court’s repeated attempts to shove him into proper formal clothes, since the Emperor insisted he be dressed well before the ball began, had only one thing on his mind: the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about…

Lovina and Feliciana sat together in one of the dressing parlors in the wing of their shared room, watching as attendants bustled from one end of the space to the other. Jewelry of all kinds, colorful bows, and a dizzying number of accessories were laid out before them, each piece offered up for consideration to match their gowns.

Speaking of their dresses…! Those had arrived a few days prior. Though the girls hadn’t tried them on until now, they had seen them with their own eyes and agreed instantly: they were perfect.

Just then, another group of attendants entered the parlor, carefully carrying the boxes that held the dresses inside. These were promptly handed off to the women inside, who looked visibly relieved. According to the Emperor’s orders, every official guest attending the ball was to be fully dressed and ready as soon as possible. After all, they were expected to represent their stations with dignity, and lateness simply wouldn’t do. What kind of image would that set?

So, they were to get ready well in advance.
Better safe than sorry!

As soon as Feliciana saw the boxes being brought in, she sprang up from the couch where she’d been lounging in nothing but her undergarments and corset. Her eyes lit up with excitement as she stared at the parcels.

“Oooh, those are the dresses, are they not?” she asked eagerly in German.

One of the handmaids, already moving to assist with the unboxing, gave her a quick nod. Feliciana let out a delighted squeal, then turned at once to her older sister, who had been quietly observing the commotion.

“They brought the dresses, sorella!” she exclaimed, grabbing Lovina’s hands and tugging her up from her seat. “Let’s get dressed!”

Lovina rose, more out of obligation than enthusiasm, though she was still a bit curious to see how the gown would look on her. She allowed her giddy younger sister to guide her over. The attendants had already freed the gowns from their boxes and were now preparing everything—ribbons, pins, and all—for the two former princesses to be dressed at last.

Lovina’s handmaid, along with a few Hungarian attendants, gathered around her, while Feliciana’s handmaid and another small group did the same for the younger girl. And then, they got to work—meaning, they began getting the girls ready.

First came the corsets, which were carefully refastened tug by tug, making sure not to pull too tight. The girls still had to breathe, after all.
Next was the first layer of petticoats, tied neatly at the waist with ribbons. No one would actually see them, of course, but tradition was tradition. Then came the metal hoops, wide, cage-like frames that clinked softly as they were fastened in place. They were a bit heavy, but they gave the gowns the full, elegant shape expected at a formal event. More petticoats followed, layered over the hoops to soften the outline and add the right amount of fullness to the skirts.

It had been quite some time since Lovina and Feliciana had worn gowns like these, mostly because it had been just as long since they’d attended a proper ball... Ever since their grandfather had fallen ill, grand balls had stopped altogether, and with them, the need for such extravagant clothing.

There had still been plenty of balls in the Spanish and Austro-Hungarian lands, hosted by barons, dukes, and other nobles. But not by the emperors themselves—that was rare, and always carried great significance, like tonight’s event. Even so, neither Lovina nor Feliciana had gone to any of those gatherings. They reminded the sisters too much of the past, of happier days before their separation and the more painful loss of their grandfather.

So naturally, the weight of these layers felt strange now. Unfamiliar. But they’d grow used to it again. Eventually. No matter.

Once the foundation layers were secured, the attendants carefully lifted the gowns and lowered them over the girls’ heads, fitting each one over the structured skirts. They moved around the sisters meticulously, smoothing the fabric on all sides until the gowns settled perfectly into place.

And now, the part most had been waiting for: the colors!

Lovina’s gown was a deep, rich crimson, the favored shade of many Italian noblewomen. It had stiff silk sleeves and a square neckline, both edged with fine lace. A bow rested at the small of her back, adding a graceful final touch.

Feliciana’s gown was a striking shade of blue, the fabric soft and flowing with every movement. Like her sister’s, it was trimmed with lace in all the right places, though the cut was slightly different… with small, elegant details that made the dress uniquely hers.

Once every layer had been arranged and smoothed to perfection, the attendants stepped back at last, giving the girls a moment to breathe.

Without hesitation, Feliciana gathered up the many layers of her skirts in both hands, eager to see herself. She turned toward the mirrors with bright eyes and a quick, excited step, only to stop short when her handmaid’s voice called out, halting her mid-motion.

“Miss Vargas!” the older woman exclaimed, clearly horrified, voicing exactly what every attendant was thinking after all their careful work. She rushed to Feliciana’s side, gently guiding her hands away from the fabric and smoothing the gown back into place. In lightly scolding German, she added: “We just finished making your dress look proper, and you’ve already gone and wrinkled it!”

Her tone held no real anger, just a touch of disappointment.

Feliciana let out a sheepish laugh. “Sorry! It’s just so heavy…” she sighed, then glanced at her sister, who had been silently admiring her own gown. “You’re not really allowed to hold it up.” she said.

Lovina gave a small nod. “Yeah… I figured.” she murmured, watching as Feliciana’s handmaid gave the skirt one last firm adjustment before stepping back, still not quite letting her dash off to the mirror just yet.

“And don’t lift it up again!” she warned.

Feliciana nodded quickly to show she understood, then motioned for Lovina to come with her. She turned and walked, more ladylike this time, yes, that’s the word, toward the mirror. Lovina followed close behind.

And when they reached it and saw their reflections, their faces lit up.

“Woaaah!” Feliciana exclaimed, twirling left and right as the gown flowed elegantly around her. “It looks even better when it’s on!”

Lovina took a moment to study herself in the mirror as well. She gave her skirt a slow spin, watching how smoothly the fabric moved. A small smile tugged at her lips.

“Yeah… it reminds me of all those balls Grandpa used to host back home.” she said quietly.

And it really did. Between the Italian style they hadn’t worn in so long and the excitement of a real ball, it almost felt like stepping back in time. Their grandfather had thrown many such celebrations. He loved parties, loved seeing people enjoy themselves. Maybe he’d had one too many mistresses, even in his old age, and maybe he’d been a little too carefree near the end, but he’d been a good man. A kind ruler. And now… he was gone.

Lovina’s smile faded slightly. Her brow furrowed, not with anger, but with a touch of grief. She stared at her reflection for a long moment, then turned to Feliciana. “Grandpa would’ve loved these looks…” she murmured, followed by a soft sigh.

Feliciana noticed the shift in her sister’s voice, and her own expression dimmed. “That he would’ve…” she said gently. But then, as if shaking off the sadness, she stepped forward and cupped Lovina’s face with both hands, giving her a playful, beaming smile.

“But… he wouldn’t want you looking so gloomy at a party! You’d kill the mood, Lovina. So smile!”

Lovina blinked, then let out a soft breath. “You’re right.” She gave a small smile, which earned a proud nod from her younger sister.

Feliciana grinned and turned her around so they both faced the mirror again. “We are so pretty.”

Lovina snorted but didn’t argue. “The prettiest.”

As the girls admired themselves in the mirror, Feliciana’s handmaid gently reminded the younger sister that they weren’t quite finished. They still needed to choose their jewelry, fix their hair, and have a bit of makeup applied. There was still work to be done before they’d be truly ready for the ball.

Feliciana blinked at the older woman, then gave a determined nod. Turning to her sister, she translated brightly, “We have to pick our jewelry now, my handmaid says!”

With cheerful energy, she motioned for Lovina to follow her and made a valiant attempt to skip toward the array of jewels laid out by the attendants. It wasn’t very graceful, her heavy gown made skipping nearly impossible, but that didn’t stop her from trying. Lovina watched, mildly amused, before shaking her head and following with far more composure.

Spread out before them was an impressive collection of jewels, all generously provided by the Austro-Hungarian Empress. Diamonds of every cut sparkled under the light. Rows of pearls shimmered softly. Emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and turquoise, perfectly polished and artfully arranged, gleamed, each piece vying for attention.

Lovina browsed the selection slowly. It wasn’t that she disliked jewelry, but ever since losing her royal title, she’d kept her distance from such luxury. And when she had worn jewelry at the Spanish court, they always gave her emeralds, the pride of Spain’s treasures from the New World, or something like that. And yes, they looked nice. The green did match her eyes. But they never quite felt like her…

There was one kind of gem she had always loved more.
(Besides diamonds, of course, those were every girl’s best friend, after all.)

Her eyes drifted to a set of rubies, their deep red catching the light like fire. Yes. These were the ones. Bold and striking. There was just something about rubies, how they seemed to embody passion, strength, even love. She was a sucker for them, really.

And then it struck her… how strange it was that she’d once been so reluctant to meet Gilbert. When he first arrived at the Spanish Emperor’s court, she’d even used his red eyes as an excuse not to be introduced, saying he looked “weird.” But now… now she thought his eyes were beautiful.

Just like rubies.
They had that same fire. That same boldness.
And honestly, she could probably stare at them for hours.

Her fingers brushed lightly over the ruby set, and a small smile curved her lips.
Maybe she’d always loved red more than any other color.
Maybe she always would.

“I’ll go with this.” Lovina said softly, pointing to the set of ruby accessories, each piece set in gold to match.

Feliciana leaned in for a better look and gasped. “They’re so, so sparkly! Great choice, sorella!” She clapped her hands together with delight. Then, switching to German, she called over one of the attendants to help adorn her sister with the chosen pieces.

As Lovina was led aside, several attendants carefully removing the ruby set from its display, Feliciana turned back to the table and pointed to a set of sapphires framed in white gold. “These ones, please!” she said brightly. “They’re my favorite!”

Lovina, from where she stood, smiled faintly at the remark. She already knew that, of course. Feliciana had always loved sapphires, their soft, cool color, their unique gleam. Somehow, that gentle blue suited her perfectly. It matched her dress, too…

Huh… now that Lovina thought about it… she’d really gone for quite a red theme, and Feliciana a blue one… not intentionally, but still. How quaint.

After both girls were adorned with their chosen gems—necklaces, bracelets, and earrings—their handmaids began working on their hair. Like most noblewomen, they would wear it down. Once Lovina’s hair was styled, her handmaid reached for a golden band meant to complement the jewelry at her neck and ears. But just as she began to place it in Lovina’s hair, the brunette abruptly pulled away.

“Miss Vargas!” the Spanish handmaid exclaimed, her voice laced with confusion. “I was just about to place the—”

“I know, my bad!” Lovina cut in, waving a quick, dismissive hand. Her gaze dropped for a moment, as though weighing something, then lifted again to meet the older woman’s eyes. “I just… don’t want to wear that in my hair.”

“No?” the handmaid echoed, blinking in surprise. “Then what would you prefer?”

At the question, Lovina stepped over to the table where various hair accessories and pins lay scattered among brushes and combs. Nestled among them was her red headpiece, the one Gilbert had given her, the one she’d been wearing far too often lately. Her handmaid had set it aside earlier while styling her hair. Lovina picked it up, then turned back with a resolute look and held it out. “This.” she said simply.

The older woman stared at the headpiece in surprise, then looked back at her young mistress. She hesitated, then cleared her throat. “But, Miss Vargas, it’s so… simple. Are you certain this is…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze flicked between Lovina and the red headpiece. “We could request a more refined piece in red, if you’d like. I’m sure the Austrian and Hungarian courts—”

“No!” Lovina interrupted firmly, giving a determined shake of her head. “I want this one.” Then, softening just slightly, she added, “I really like it.”

The handmaid regarded her with a puzzled, conflicted look, but quickly resigned herself to her young mistress’s wishes—arguing with the girl would lead nowhere. With a small sigh, she took the red headpiece from Lovina’s hands and motioned for her to turn around. “Alright, Miss Vargas. As you wish.”

Lovina nodded eagerly, clearly pleased, and quickly turned so her handmaid could get to work. The older woman did just that, doing her best to create a refined hairstyle despite the simplicity of the fabric she was given. With some clever adjustments, she made it work, tying the red ribbon into a neat bow at the back of Lovina’s head, shaping the hair into a half-up, half-down style rather than the usual way the girl wore it. The result felt more fitting for the occasion.

To elevate the look further, she added two golden pins on either side of Lovina’s head. After giving the ends a final brush and tidying a few stray strands, the handmaid stepped back and admired her work. Against all odds, the simple village-bought ribbon now looked elegant and dignified, entirely worthy of a noble girl. She allowed herself a small, proud smile. Good job, she thought.

“All done, Miss Vargas,” the maiden said with a note of satisfaction, handing her young mistress a small mirror. “Here you go. See if it pleases you.”

Lovina snatched it impatiently, her eyes lighting up as she examined her reflection. The front of her hair was beautifully arranged, and when she tilted her head to catch a glimpse of the bow in the back, her face lit up even more. She practically beamed, so much so that, in that moment, one might’ve mistaken her for her sister.

“It’s perfect!” she exclaimed, her voice bright with cheer as she continued to admire the way the red bow sat so neatly in her hair.

The handmaid let out a quiet sigh, but smiled nonetheless. It was a relief to see Lovina so happy, especially after the somber spell she’d endured back in Spain. Come to think of it, the girl hadn’t truly smiled like this until the Prussian king had arrived at court. What a miracle that had been.

“I’m glad you like it, Miss Vargas!” she said warmly. If her mistress was content, then so was she. “Now, settle down. I still need to finish your makeup.”

Lovina obeyed without protest, still glowing from her reflection in the mirror.

With her makeup carefully applied, the Italian girl was finally ready for the evening’s grand event—the ball. Inspired by her sister, Feliciana had also begged her own handmaid to let her wear the gift Ludwig had given her in her hair. Much like the Spanish handmaid, hers eventually gave in with a sigh and set to work. She styled Feliciana’s hair in a fashion similar to her sister’s, though with a few distinct touches to suit her softer features. Once her makeup was done as well, Feliciana was just as radiant and ready to join the festivities.

When both girls turned to admire themselves in the mirror, their excitement only grew, especially Feliciana’s. They looked better than they had in ages, and it showed. Feliciana twirled in place, eager to see herself from every angle, while Lovina regarded her reflection with pride. And why shouldn’t she? Being proud of one’s appearance wasn’t vanity, it was well-earned confidence.

As the sisters continued to admire their reflections, the attendants bustled about the room, tidying up and returning unused accessories, jewels, and brushes to their proper places. Then, suddenly, a knock sounded at the dressing parlour’s door. The unexpected noise brought everything to a pause. The handmaids looked up from their tasks, and both Italian girls turned toward the door, confusion mirrored in their expressions.

One of the lady attendants set aside her work and hurried to the door to see who had arrived. When she opened it, she was met by a German attendant dressed in the court attire of the Germanic nation. He nodded politely, as if apologizing for the sudden intrusion, then said, “His Majesty wishes to know if the Italian sisters are ready for this evening’s event.”

The female attendant glanced past the man to a small group of German attendants nearby, and there she spotted the Germanic King himself. He looked impatient and far from ready for the ball, dressed simply in a ruffled shirt with puffed sleeves and a waistcoat—the sort of undergarments a man, especially a king, was expected to wear beneath his formal attire, not as his entire outfit.

The Prussian king briefly met her gaze, then subtly tried to peer into the dressing parlour, though his effort was mostly in vain. He soon gave up, cleared his throat, and spoke quietly to one of the attendants beside him. The man gave a quick nod, then crossed the room to speak with the Austrian maid standing at the door and the German courtier beside her.

“His Majesty requests to speak with Miss Vargas, the elder sister.” he said.

The maiden watched the two men before her for a moment, then glanced back inside, where everyone had overheard their exchange, including the Italian sisters.

One of them—Lovina, that is—lit up the moment she saw who stood at the door. German attendants meant… the German king. Gilbert. She stepped forward, eyes wide with excitement. “Gilbert’s at the door!” she exclaimed, a rush of energy rising in her chest. She could hardly wait to show him how she looked! It was the first time she’d appear before him dressed so extravagantly, and the thought of his reaction sent a thrill through her.

But just as she moved toward the door, a firm hand closed around her forearm, stopping her. It was Feliciana.

“Wait! Sorella!” the younger girl cried, tugging urgently at her sister’s arm.

Lovina turned with a confused and slightly irritated look. “What?” she asked.

Feliciana shook her head frantically. “You can’t let him see you before the ball! It’s bad luck!”

Lovina blinked, clearly baffled. “Isn’t that just a wedding thing?”

“No!” Feliciana insisted, tugging again. “It’s an everything thing! You absolutely mustn’t, sorella!”

Lovina scowled. “Ugh, Feliciana, what does that even mean?” she muttered, trying to step forward. “I want to see Gilbert.”

But Feliciana tightened her grip and pulled her back. With the weight of her dress and her sister clinging to her arm, Lovina could barely move.

“Feliciana, let go!” Lovina snapped, frustration creeping into her voice as she tried to free her arm.

“Sorella…” Feliciana drawled dramatically, clinging tighter. “Respect the tradition!”

“What tradition?!” Lovina shot back.

“The tradition!” Feliciana declared, shaking her head with exaggerated seriousness.

Lovina glared. “That doesn’t answer anything.”

“Just wait, please, please, please!” Feliciana pleaded. “It has to be a big surprise, so the ‘wow!’ effect hits twice as hard!”

By now, Lovina’s irritation was growing, she just wanted to see Gilbert. But at the same time, she understood exactly what Feliciana meant by the “wow” effect and what her sister was trying to accomplish. Maybe waiting would make the moment even more special… She paused for a moment, weighing her options, then let out a small sigh, one that all but signaled her willingness to go along with Feliciana’s plan.

“Fine.” fine said, earning an enthusiastic “Yuppie!” from the light brunette, who attempted to jump in excitement but was quickly reminded of the heavy dress weighing her down. She waved at an attendant and instructed firmly, “Go tell the ones at the door that neither the Germanic King nor anyone else may speak to me, or to Lovina, before the ball.”

The attendant nodded promptly and hurried toward the door, where the other maiden and two German men waited.

“Both Misses Vargas have said that His Highness may not see them before the ball, and may only speak to them during it. Apologies.” she explained with a small tilt of her head.

The German attendants exchanged surprised looks but didn’t dwell on it long before turning to their ruler to relay the message. Gilbert, however, seemed already aware of the refusal. His face showed surprise that quickly shifted to confusion as he called out: “Uh, why?”

The male attendants then repeated the question to the Austrian attendants. “Our King wishes to know… why?”

The maidens didn’t really know the reason themselves but guessed it might have something to do with Italian tradition or culture… something along those lines, or God knows what. One of them cleared her throat and said hesitantly: “Because… that’s what we were told.”

Gilbert heard their reply and looked even more confused. It wasn’t exactly a clear explanation.

But the maiden pressed on, adding uncertainly, “And, well, one must respect a lady’s privacy and wishes…”

The German attendants exchanged glances but didn’t question the vague response. “Of course,” one of them said before turning to his king and speaking a little louder, “Your Majesty…”

But Gilbert, having heard everything, just waved them back with a dismissive gesture. “Yeah, yeah, I heard.”

“Ah, very well. If you’ll excuse us.” the attendant replied, stepping aside with his companion to rejoin their king. The maidens promptly closed the doors to the dressing parlour behind them.

“Well, Your Majesty,” one attendant said, stepping forward, “this is probably a sign that we should get you ready for the evening.”

Gilbert sighed, defeated. He had really wanted to see Lovina beforehand, but it seemed there was no other choice. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s head back to the eastern wing’s dressing parlour.”

His attendants nodded, and as their king turned and began to walk away, they followed closely behind.

Once Gilbert entered his dressing parlour, his attendants helped him into the formal attire prepared for the ball—a navy blue, Prussian-style suit adorned with medals on the right side of his chest, each representing one of his most memorable victories. A side robe, fastened over one shoulder and bearing the crest of his kingdom, completed the ensemble. His hair was combed and styled as neatly as possible.

When he was fully dressed, Gilbert lingered in the parlour for a moment before heading down the hall to where his brother was supposedly preparing. As expected, he found Ludwig already ready, punctual as always and perfectly composed to represent his royal station. Gilbert offered a salute and suggested they make their way to the ballroom, admitting he had no idea what else to do in the meantime. Ludwig, seeing no harm in arriving early, agreed, and the brothers set off together.

When they finally arrived, they found Roderich and Elizabeta already present, overseeing everything for what must have been the twentieth time. The orchestra, the butlers and maids who would serve the guests, the guards, the other attendants and court members… Everything was arranged and ready.

But more striking than the preparations was how Roderich and Elizabeta were dressed. Their appearance was nothing short of regal. They wore grand, flowing robes in deep red, each fastened at the front with a golden clasp bearing the crest of their Empire. Roderich was clad in dark attire, black with touches of gold woven into the design, while Elizabeta wore a voluminous white gown layered with silk and embroidered with fine golden accents. Diamonds glittered on her neck, ears, and hands, and both of them wore their crowns.

They looked perhaps a bit overdressed… though, really, that was putting it mildly.

Seeing that neither of them had noticed him or his brother yet, Gilbert cleared his throat. That did the trick—both Roderich and Elizabeta turned to face them. With a casual grin, the Prussian lifted his hand in a small wave and greeted them.

“Are you two having your second wedding or what?” he joked, eyeing their opulent outfits. Given the color scheme and sheer extravagance, one could almost mistake them for bridal and groom’s attire.

Elizabeta snickered at Gilbert’s remark, while Roderich only shook his head. Still, there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes, even if he didn’t show it outright.

“Those are the colors in fashion here now. I thought you knew that,” he replied dryly, then gave his cousin a once-over. “Well, you look, for once in your life, put together.”

His gaze drifted to Gilbert’s brushed and styled hair, a rare sight indeed. “And your hair, too!” he added, sounding genuinely surprised.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “I’m always put together.” he muttered, but neither Elizabeta nor Roderich looked particularly convinced.

With a small sigh, Roderich patted Gilbert briefly on the forearm. “Well… thank you.” he said, allowing himself a faint smile.

Gilbert blinked, clearly taken aback. He glanced around the room, as if to make sure his cousin was actually talking to him, then let out a chuckle. “Who are you, and what did you do with my cousin?”

Roderich frowned slightly. “Gilbert, I’m not that mean to you.”

The albino laughed and shrugged, while Elizabeta also chuckled at the exchange.

Roderich then turned to the man standing beside Gilbert. “And you,” he said to Ludwig, “look put together as always. I expected nothing less.”

Ludwig gave a respectful nod in response.

“Thank you both for showing up looking your best.” Elizabeta added, stepping forward. “This ball means a great deal to us, as you know.”

Both brothers nodded.

“Of course,” Ludwig replied. “We hope everything turns out as you wish.”

“Mhm. Me too.” Gilbert added, offering an encouraging smile.

Elizabeta tilted her head slightly, touched. “Yeah… us too.”

And Roderich, glancing at her, couldn’t help but agree.

Since they were already there, Gilbert and Ludwig helped Roderich and Elizabeta with a few final tasks before the event began. Or rather, tasks that didn’t really need overseeing, as the couple had already done so more than once, but checking everything again seemed to help calm their nerves. The German brothers didn’t have much else to do besides stand around anyway, so they took the initiative to ensure things were in order throughout the rest of the palace.

They made sure the front gates were open and ready to receive the arriving carriages, and checked the designated parking areas and the attendants who would manage the horses while guests enjoyed the ballroom.

They also walked the perimeter of the palace, confirming the guards were properly stationed and that all was running smoothly. The gardens were inspected too—though it was cold, the ballroom opened out into that space, so it had to be ready. And it was. The royal gardeners and servants had swept away as much snow as possible. Still, with the steady snowfall, it was bound to pile up again before long. But there’s only so much one can do against Mother Nature.

Once they had finished everything Roderich and Elizabeta asked of them, Gilbert and Ludwig returned to the ballroom to report that all was in order. The couple thanked them warmly, adding that they had completed the final touches inside as well.

Even the throne area had been prepared: two grand chairs, not the official thrones from the throne room, of course, since those were never to be moved, but an alternate pair. Slightly smaller, but still regal and extravagant, they were positioned near the grand staircase in the center of the ballroom. From there, Roderich and Lizzy could oversee both the guests and the evening’s festivities, as tradition dictated.

In short, all was ready. All that remained was to wait for the guests to arrive… which would be soon. The ball was scheduled to begin at 20:00, and the ballroom clock, mounted high on the wall above the double doors at the top of the stairs, now read 19:27.

Speaking of the ball’s start… where were Lovina and Feliciana? Shouldn’t they have arrived by now? They were supposed to be present before any of the guests came in, after all…

Roderich was wondering the same thing. He was just about to send an attendant to fetch the girls—there was no way they’d be tardy—when the double doors suddenly screeched open, thrown wide by the two guards posted outside.

And speaking of the sisters—there they were at last!

All eyes turned to the grand staircase as the Italian sisters stepped into view at the top.

“Oh, good! We’re on time!” the younger sister said with a relieved sigh, glancing around the ballroom. Only attendants and servants were still moving about—no guests in sight. She looked down toward the base of the stairs and lit up like the spark of a candle. “Ludwig’s there!” she beamed, then quickly turned to her sister. “Let’s go, sorella!”

She glanced around to make sure none of the attendants, or her handmaid who had helped her get ready, were watching. Then, grabbing the many layers of her large skirt in both hands (something she’d been told not to do, but oh well... a free spirit is a free spirit), she carefully hurried down the stairs, doing her best not to trip.

Lovina snorted at her sister’s antics, then stepped closer to the railing. Holding onto it firmly, she descended at a much slower pace, just as determined not to fall. Since she had to keep her eyes on the steps, she hadn’t yet glanced around to see Gilbert, though if Ludwig was here, she assumed he would be too…

And of course, Gilbert was there. But he wasn’t just present, captivated was the better word. Because the moment his eyes landed on the girl at the top of the staircase, the one in red, everything else seemed to fade away.

He had always thought she was beautiful, undeniably so. Even when she was irritated, with her brows drawn tight in frustration. Especially when she smiled… that heartwarming, radiant smile of hers. He could’ve spent forever just watching her when she was happy.

But this... this was something else.

Gilbert hadn’t expected to see her like this. Well—no, that wasn’t true. He’d expected her to be dressed up, elegant, polished. Given the occasion, how could he not? But even so, he hadn’t been prepared for the reality, where she outshone every expectation.

Then again, she always did. That was the thing about her: just when he thought he had her all figured out, she’d catch him completely off guard. And every time she did, he found himself sinking deeper into the quicksand of his admiration—no, his infatuation.

Lovina descended the staircase carefully, and with such unhurried grace it felt as if the world belonged to her alone. And in Gilbert’s eyes, it did. He would’ve given it to her if he could. And even if he couldn’t, he’d try anyway, because this girl, this woman, deserved nothing less.

Seeing her like this, so alluring, his eyes widened, almost startled, like a deer catching the scent of something inevitable. Then, as always, they locked onto her completely. But this time, something was different. There was a new kind of brilliance in her, something that made the effect she had on him feel doubled... no, tripled.

He didn’t even think to blink, afraid to miss a single instant.

His breath caught before he could stop it. His whole body went still. Everything around him seemed to fall silent, as if the staff had frozen in place, or as if time itself had paused. In that suspended moment, all he could do was watch her. The only sound he could hear was his heartbeat: loud, and quickening with every step she took.

His gaze followed the sweep of her hair, coiled neatly above her arms, the curls tighter and more deliberate than usual. The chandelier overhead caught the strands, its warm light turning the dark brown into something almost auburn. It shimmered when she turned her head, and hell, it was enchanting. His heart thudded harder in his chest.

And then, the dress…

That deep red... it fit her like it had been made with her in mind. Which, to be fair, it had—those Italian seamstresses had stitched it just for her. But metaphorically, it felt as if it had been crafted not just to flatter her figure, but to draw out everything about her… every expression, every feature.

And God, it did its job flawlessly. The way her eyes stood out against that color... vivid, impossible to look away from. Enough to drive a man to madness.

(Which was exactly what was happening to him right now.)

He could get lost in them.

Well… could. As if he wasn’t already.

His mouth went dry. His palms, clammy. His face burned so hot he half-wondered if he’d come down with a fever. But no, he knew exactly what this was, what it meant, and what it was doing to him.

And those other desires he’d tried to push aside… the ones he avoided thinking about because they were too much? Well. Surprise, surprise. They came rushing back. Only this time, stronger. Much stronger.

The urge to hold her, to simply be close, was so strong it ached deep in his chest. A sharp, almost painful throb, like a man who’d resisted too long finally wanting to give in, if only to stop the ache.

And honestly, that was exactly what was happening... or almost.

Because, despite everything, he still had some restraint. He wasn’t that primal, for God’s sake. So instead of doing something reckless (like, say, kissing her), he settled for just looking... utterly still, and utterly captive to the love burning through him.

Feliciana was the first to come down, and Ludwig, like his brother, was completely frozen, his face turning bright red at the sight of her. She looked stunning, and he could barely string a sentence together. Every attempt at a compliment came out as tangled stammering, worse than anything he’d ever managed before.

But, Feliciana didn’t seem to mind. She was too thrilled to show off her dress, especially how it flowed when she twirled. Even more exciting to her, though, was gasping at how cool, her word, and professional Ludwig looked in his ball attire. Then she lit up even more when she noticed that his navy-blue suit matched her blue dress. They were matching!

Oof… she really was something else. But so was Ludwig. And because of that, they just worked. It was hard to believe they weren’t a couple, because they complemented each other so naturally. Like frosting and cake. Each is good on its own, sure, but together? Absolutely delicious!

Shortly after, Lovina made her way down the stairs, just like her sister had. As she lifted her head and caught sight of the one person she’d hoped to see, Gilbert, her face turned pink. She quickly turned her head to the side, clearly flustered, but after a moment to collect herself, she looked back at him and blinked slowly.

Gilbert, by now, felt like an ice cube dropped in the middle of a summer street, melting fast, despite the winter air. But he couldn’t just stand there in silence. He had to say something.

He cleared his throat, trying to will his mouth into working. “Wow, uh… ah—”

That was it. That’s all that came out. Seriously?

Lovina just kept blinking at him, unreadable.

Panicking, Gilbert cleared his throat again and gave a nervous laugh. “I mean, woah! You… you look…” His voice trailed off as his gaze fixed on her—her eyes, her side bangs, her lips…

“Beautiful.”

The word slipped out before he could stop it. Not what he meant to say… at least, not out loud, but exactly what he felt.

Lovina’s eyes widened, her blush deepening as she glanced down shyly.

It wasn’t until that moment that Gilbert realized just how bold he’d been. Too bold.

“I MEAN—!” he blurted, panicking. He threw his hands up and waved them wildly, his face burning, sweat practically pouring off him. “I meant—the dress! The dress is beautiful!”

Worse. That somehow made it sound like she wasn’t!

Lovina looked back up at him and tilted her head slightly, and Gilbert could’ve sworn a waterfall of sweat left his skin. If he hadn’t been wearing so many layers, someone might’ve thought he’d just climbed out of a lake.

“N-not that I don’t think you look beautiful!” he rushed to explain. “I mean, hell, you always look beautiful, I just—uh—wait, no, that’s not—uh—what I meant was…” He tripped over his words again and again, until the only thing he could think to do was slap a hand over his own mouth. Shut up, Gilbert. Just shut up.

God, he couldn’t have been more awkward. Lovina probably thought he was completely weird…

But then… she snickered.

Gilbert froze, watching her with wide eyes as that little laugh escaped her lips. She didn’t look confused. She didn’t look weirded out. She looked… amused.

And that expression of hers… it cut straight through him. His heart clenched, jumped, twisted.

Oh, Lovina was going to be the death of him for sure…

“Thank you, Gilbert!” the Italian girl said with a small, amused smile, sincere enough that the albino could only swallow thickly in response. He didn’t trust his voice, not when he was already overwhelmed by... her.

Before he could recover, her gaze shifted from his face down to his attire. Then, without warning, she reached forward and lifted the robe draped over his shoulder, tugging at it curiously.

“A cape?” she asked, her fingers still lightly playing with the fabric.

The action completely derailed Gilbert's thoughts. It was too cute. Far too cute. He nearly forgot to answer as he just stood there, staring at her, hopelessly lost in every little thing she did.

Ah, she was too much!

But eventually, he snapped out of it. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he let out a sheepish chuckle. “Ah... It’s, well, it’s more of a robe.” he explained, gesturing to the white fur trim that connected near the collar.

Lovina gave it a light tug again and raised an eyebrow. “I thought robes were supposed to be longer. Why is yours so short?”

She let go with a snort, clearly unimpressed.

Gilbert didn’t even care. She could mock his outfit all she wanted… he was still stuck on her.

After a moment of simply gazing at her like she were some kind of muse, he finally blinked himself back to reality, cleared his throat, and managed to reply. “It’s shorter for… etiquette reasons, I think. So I don’t outshine the rulers of this empire,” he said, referring to Elizabeta and Roderich. “We’re in their country, at their ball… royal protocol and all that.”

Lovina tilted her head slightly, looking thoughtful for a moment before letting out a quiet ‘pfft’. “Yeah, I know that. It just looks funny. So short…”
With a smirk, she tugged on the robe again and let out another small laugh.

Gilbert gazed at Lovina, utterly love-struck, a soft smile playing on his lips. She was so effortlessly charming… even just tugging at his robe or cape or whatever the hell it was. He could’ve stood there watching her smile for the rest of the night… maybe forever.

But that didn’t happen!

Their little moment, if one could call it that, was abruptly cut short by a loud, pointed “Ahem.”

Gilbert flinched. That “ahem” sounded awfully familiar…

With great reluctance, he dragged his gaze away from Lovina and turned toward the source. Which, sure enough, was his cousin.

Roderich stood there, posture as rigid as ever, a sharp, unreadable expression on his face. But there was something else in his look too… something strange. Knowing, almost. Like he could see something plain as day. What exactly, Gilbert couldn’t be sure…

Next to him, Elizabeta wore a similar look, her eyes flicking between Gilbert and Lovina, then over to Ludwig and Feliciana.

Not that the Prussian had time to dwell on it—Roderich cleared his throat again, snapping him from his thoughts. “Guests will be arriving shortly. We should take our places.”

Elizabeta nodded, her gaze settling on the younger girls. Her face lit up. “Oh, but you two look adorable! The Italians will be lining up to make peace with the empire for sure! Everything is going to be just perfect!”

The sisters responded with polite smiles.

“Ah, right, right…” Gilbert mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, while Ludwig gave a short, curt nod. He’d been so distracted by Lovina, he’d nearly forgotten the ball was about to begin. Talk about lovesick…

Well, anyway… with that out of the way, everyone moved to take their places, Roderich and Elizabeta settling onto their thrones as the guards at the doors signaled for the event to begin. Gilbert and Ludwig positioned themselves near their cousin’s seat, while the Italian sisters stood just beside the Empress’s throne.

With everyone in place and the preparations complete, there was nothing left to do but wait for the guests to arrive.

Gilbert’s gaze flicked to the large clock above the staircase. 19:47. People would start showing up any minute now…

His eyes drifted to Roderich and Elizabeta, noting their stiff postures and strained expressions. He let out a quiet sigh. Hopefully everything goes the way they want it to… it clearly matters a great deal to them, he thought.

As his attention shifted to Lovina, he found her already looking his way. They held eye contact for a moment before he smiled at her. She turned her head briefly, then looked back and returned a small smile before letting her gaze wander to the grand chandelier above.

Gilbert sighed again, softer this time. Well… I’ve got my own things to deal with too. (Maybe not as politically or economically important… but important to him all the same).

Chapter Text

When the clock struck 20:00, guests began to arrive in earnest. First came a great number of Hungarians and Austrians: dukes, duchesses, barons, baronesses, earls, marquises, and many other nobles who held no grand title but were still addressed as ladies and lords. One by one, they bowed respectfully to the Emperor and Empress before filtering into the grand ballroom, where they began to mingle and converse.

Elizabeta and Roderich exchanged worried glances when, after half an hour, no Italian nobles had appeared. Perhaps their plan hadn’t worked after all… But then, at last, they began to arrive. (Late, of course, but many know Italians do tend to show up after the scheduled time)

Yet, there was a clear difference. Unlike the Austrians and Hungarians, who showed the utmost deference to their rulers, the Italians seemed reluctant to bow properly. Many offered only curt nods or indifferent glances toward the Emperor and Empress, as if unsure, or unwilling, to acknowledge them as their rightful sovereigns. Still, each Italian who entered made a point of stopping to look upon their former princesses. And when they saw them, healthy, well-dressed, and clearly treated with care, their faces lit up with pride and approval.

Even better, no one questioned why Lovina was here. Not one asked why she’d come all the way from Spain, where they all knew she’d been living. No one seemed to see her presence as a bad thing. Wonderful! Perhaps the noble seamstresses had truly done their part, spreading word of the princesses’s presence across the Italian circles. The Italians surely wouldn’t have shown up like this on their own, so it could only mean the message had gotten out. That part of Elizabeta and Roderich’s plan, at least, seemed to be a success.

What the Austro-Hungarian nobles thought of the eldest Italian princess being here instead of with Antonio in Spain remained unclear. Naturally, they wouldn’t dare gossip in front of their monarchs. That would come later… after the ball. Hopefully, the talk would be favorable… but that was a matter for another time. No use worrying about it now!

For now, there was quite a crowd gathering near the thrones, as close as the guards would allow. The Italians spoke eagerly in their native tongue, tossing questions and comments at the two former princesses with such enthusiasm that even the guards seemed unsure how to manage them. Elizabeta, Roderich, Ludwig, and Gilbert could only watch. None of them understood what the Italians were saying, (except maybe for Gilbert, who caught a few words here and there, having written many letters in Italian for Lovina) and judging by the overwhelmed expressions on Lovina and Feliciana’s faces, neither did the girls. So many people were speaking at once it was impossible to follow…

Still, despite the noise and confusion, the sisters looked thrilled… Overwhelmed, yes, but happy. After so long apart from their people, they seemed genuinely moved by the sight of faces with familiar features and the language they hadn’t heard in so long. Their people were glad to see them, and they were glad in return.

Eventually, the guards had to step in and urge the Italians to clear the throne area. Technically, they hadn’t been swarming the Empress and Emperor or his cousins, but since the girls were seated with the royal family, it was considered improper to crowd them. Reluctantly, the Italians dispersed and made their way into the ballroom. (Though they continued to cast many, many glances toward the girls even after moving away)

Everything seemed to be going well… promising, even.

Well… until it wasn’t.

Because despite the ball appearing to go smoothly, and the guests seeming to enjoy themselves, there was one glaring issue that stood in direct opposition to the entire reason Elizabeta and Roderich had organized the event in the first place: their two courts simply weren’t mixing. Not at all.

The Austro-Hungarians clustered on one side of the ballroom, speaking only among themselves, showing no interest in engaging with the Italians. And the Italians, gathered on the opposite side, did the very same! Speaking in their own language, sticking close to familiar faces, barely sparing the Austro-Hungarians a glance. And when they did look across the ballroom, it was with indifference at best, perhaps even distaste. Certainly not with the openness or curiosity that might lead to friendship or unity…

The whole purpose of this ball had been to bring the courts together, to help them see one another not as strangers or rivals, but as allies under the same crown. But this? Whatever it was… it wasn’t unity. Quite the opposite, really.

A ball is meant to foster connection, yet so far, all it had done was highlight the divide.

This made both Roderich and Elizabeta extremely anxious. They hadn’t anticipated this… two distinct “teams” forming, neither even attempting to mingle, and the separation had held strong for the past hour and a half… That much time had already passed… and it looked like both sides fully intended to remain that way until the end of the night. This was bad. Very bad. If the two courts didn’t start interacting soon, the entire plan they’d arranged would fall apart. How could they hope to achieve unity through their people if their people refused to unify?!

AHHHH!

Elizabeta shifted uncomfortably on her throne and leaned forward, squinting across the ballroom to get a clearer view of the problem. She pressed a hand to her face and let out a frustrated sigh. “They’re not mixing at all…!” she hissed, turning toward her husband to ask if there was anything they could do to nudge the two courts together.

But the moment her eyes landed on Roderich, she froze. He looked dangerously close to fainting, almost as pale as Gilbert, too. Uh-oh. That was definitely not good.

“Roderich!” she gasped, shifting closer and placing a hand to his forehead. “Dear, you’re ice cold! Breathe! Calm down!”

Roderich shook his head, trying to take a breath, but it backfired. He launched straight into a panicked rant, his voice louder than intended, despite his efforts to keep it down.

“I cannot be calm, Lizzy!” he burst out, letting his head drop into her hand without a care for appearances. That alone told her just how badly this was affecting him. He never abandoned his composure like this. She knew her husband too well.

“This was supposed to work… How am I supposed to stabilize this empire,” he groaned, “if I can’t even keep the relations between its people stable?!” He all but deflated, slumping helplessly in her grasp.

Elizabeta looked at him, worry clouding her already frayed thoughts. She was stressed too… of course, but right now, her husband needed to get back on his feet. Literally.

Clearing her throat softly, she nudged him upright. “Okay. Let’s take a deep breath, alright?”

Roderich didn’t look like he had much faith in the idea, but he still followed her lead and made the effort, inhaling deeply, just as she’d asked.

Gilbert and Ludwig hadn’t missed what was happening either, nor the clear panic on their cousin’s and his wife’s faces. Or the hyperventilating, for that matter. (From Roderich.)

Leaning in slightly, Ludwig murmured to his brother, “Things aren’t going as planned, are they, brother?”

Gilbert shook his head, gaze drifting across the ballroom to the two unmixed crowds. “Nope.”

Ludwig frowned, eyes flicking from the guests back to his sibling. “I thought balls were meant to bring people together… not push them further apart.”

“They are,” the older man replied, gesturing lazily toward the two divided courts. “But it looks like these two groups still carry too much… I dunno, resentment. Or the whole political ordeal... Whatever it is, it’s enough to kill the mood.”

“Hm.” Ludwig let out a quiet hum, glancing toward their cousin, who looked one step away from a nervous collapse. “If things don’t take a miraculous turn by the end of the night, Roderich’s going to have a rough time. The nobles will talk… about how they didn’t mingle at all.”

“Yeah…” Gilbert agreed grimly. And Ludwig was right. If word got out that the Austro-Hungarian and Italian courts had remained completely separate all evening, it would only strengthen the existing divide. The Austro-Hungarians would point to it as proof that the Latin province didn’t belong in the Empire, while the Italians would feel even more justified in distancing themselves from it entirely.

Which would mean more problems… far more than there already were. And instead of fixing the rift, like Roderich and Elizabeta had hoped, this night would just make it worse.

“There has to be something we can do…” the blond said after a pause, surveying the stiffly divided ballroom again. “If we could just get them to talk, even that would be better than…”
he trailed off, gesturing toward the two sides of the room… the unmoving, unwilling groups.
“…this.”

Gilbert followed his brother’s gaze, falling into thought. It wasn’t until he happened to focus on the faint music playing in the background that an idea sparked in his mind.

“Aha!” he exclaimed suddenly, snapping his fingers with a grin.

Ludwig jolted a bit. “What?”

“I got it!” Gilbert said, brimming with confidence.

“You got it?” the blond repeated, blinking at him, clearly unconvinced.

“Well… no, not really,” Gilbert admitted with a shrug, though his grin never faded. “It’s not foolproof… but it’s something!”

Ludwig gave him a wary look. “What is it?”

A proud smirk spread across the older man’s face, and Ludwig immediately frowned.

“I don’t like the way you’re smiling.”

“Hey!” Gilbert pouted half-heartedly, then brightened again. “It’s a good idea! So quit with the judging.”

Ludwig rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. He didn’t have any ideas of his own, and as much as he hated to admit it, an idea was better than no idea.

“Fine. What exactly does your idea involve?”

The Prussian’s eyes lit up as he quickly pulled his brother by the shoulder and turned him toward a certain part of the ballroom.

“What are you doing… what am I supposed to be looking at?” Ludwig asked, confused as his gaze scanned the space.

Gilbert let out a low whistle and pointed toward the corner where the royal musicians stood, still playing an unobtrusive melody meant more for background ambiance than attention.

“The music?” Ludwig asked, tilting his head.

“Mhm!” Gilbert nodded, then leaned in eagerly. “Let’s change it up… have them play something for dancing! Maybe it’ll lift the mood a little, get people moving. And with any luck…” he trailed off, gesturing between the two sides of the room. “They might even ask someone from across the ballroom to dance. Could start breaking the ice. What do you think?”

Ludwig narrowed his eyes in thought, watching the musicians. After a few moments, he let out a sigh.

“That… might actually work. Or it might flop completely.”

“But?” Gilbert prompted.

“But,” Ludwig agreed reluctantly, “we can try. At this point, anything is better than standing here doing nothing.”

Gilbert beamed. “I’m telling you! It’s an awesome idea!”

His brother shook his head. “You say that about all your ideas.”

“Because most of the time I’m right!”

Well… not all the time. But strangely enough, things did have a tendency to work out for the Prussian. Whatever cosmic force favored him… who knew.

With that, Gilbert turned on his heel and made his way over to Elizabeta and Roderich, who by now seemed a little more composed. Ludwig watched as his brother leaned in between the two thrones, cupping a hand over his mouth as he whispered the idea to them.

At first, Roderich looked conflicted. Ballroom dancing wasn’t scheduled to begin until 22:30, and there was still nearly an hour to go. But as his gaze swept once more over the stiff, divided crowd, the hesitation melted from his face. Formalities be damned… if a waltz could soften the tension and bring about even the smallest sign of unity, he’d move up the entire schedule.

Elizabeta seemed to agree. She gave a small nod, calling over one of the palace officials. In a low voice, she gave him the order to signal the musicians to begin the ballroom set, regardless of the hour. The official bowed in understanding, then turned briskly on his heel to deliver the command.

The musicians hesitated for only a moment, glancing among themselves in brief confusion at the sudden change of program. But they quickly straightened up, adjusted their instruments, and began to play a piece loud and clear: a slow waltz that echoed through the great hall with a rhythm meant for dancing.

Immediately, heads turned.

The guests looked around, clearly registering the shift in atmosphere. The music now called for movement, an invitation to take the floor. But no one budged.

Not a single couple.

The Austro-Hungarian nobles whispered among themselves, casting sidelong glances toward the Italians, many of which seemed tinged with judgment. Meanwhile, the Italians exchanged hushed words as well, though theirs seemed more curious than scornful. Neither side, however, made a move to dance. Not even among their own.

Were they waiting for someone else to go first? Or did they find the idea of dancing while the other side watched too exposing? Too awkward? Whatever the reason… it was painfully clear that
no one wanted to be the first.

And that did not escape the notice of the royals seated on the dais. (For those who don’t know, a dais is a low platform for a throne.)

“‘Awesome idea,’ was it?” Ludwig murmured under his breath, side-eying his brother.

Gilbert cleared his throat and waved a hand in dismissal. “Alright, so they’re slow starters. Give it a minute…”

He tried to sound confident, but the small crease forming between his brows gave him away.

This was clearly not working.

Roderich had all but given up at this point, letting his head drop into one hand as he silently mourned what he now considered a complete failure… not just of the ball, but of himself as a ruler. Elizabeta looked equally disheartened, though her concern shifted more toward her husband’s wellbeing than her own disappointment. Once this mess was over, it would be him the advisers hounded for answers, demanding a new solution, if one even existed…

Meanwhile, behind the Empress’s throne, the Italian sisters had noticed the failure as plainly as everyone else, though it wasn’t exactly hard to miss. They watched the unmoving crowds and exchanged a knowing glance. Disappointment flickered in their eyes, not only at the blatant disregard for the Emperor and Empress’s efforts, but at their people’s stubborn refusal to even try, to reach out, to build something better.

And yet… they understood.

Deep down, they still longed for the Italy that had once been theirs, not a fractured land split between two empires that neither reflected its soul.

“La loro amata Italia.” Their beloved Italy.

Gilbert puffed out a frustrated sigh, arms crossed, shoulders slumped. The song had shifted from the slow waltz to something more energetic… something made for whirling, spinning, laughing, and getting just a little carried away. But no one was dancing.

No one.

It was a tragedy.

His red gaze swept over the stiff guests. Seriously? This was the perfect chance to let loose! But their sour pride somehow outweighed the pull of a good party…

They were just standing there…! Like planks of wood!

The albino scowled. What a waste. A waste of music! A waste of mood! A waste of the golden plates and the ten different types of wine and the sparkly wine glasses! A waste of his cousin's nerves… and, worst of all, a waste of a really solid dance track!

The whole point of a ball was to dance, yet no one was dancing!

“I’m so bored…” Gilbert muttered to himself, shifting slightly where he stood. Holding the same stiff posture for so long was starting to get uncomfortable, and worse, painfully dull.

He glanced around half-heartedly, but his eyes quickly settled on Lovina, seated just a few steps behind Emma’s throne. She didn’t seem much better off. Her expression was mostly composed, but the half-lidded eyes, and the small yawn she let slip, made it clear she was just as bored as he was.

Gilbert kept watching her for a moment as the vibrant music continued to echo uselessly through the hall. And despite having had nothing to drink since the start of the ball, (he’d barely moved, after all) a rather insane idea popped into his head. If nobody else wanted to make the most of this evening, he sure would. He wasn’t about to die of boredom, and judging by how things were going, that felt like the most likely outcome.

The insane part? He wanted to do it with Lovina.

She looked ready to fall asleep on the spot, and as awkward and scattered as she had made him feel recently, because of his feelings for her, he didn’t want her night to be ruined. Especially not after what she’d told him that one time, back in the Spanish court, about how long it had been since her last ball... This one was supposed to be her comeback to ball culture, not a snoozefest.

And if the rest of the guests weren’t going to enjoy themselves, then at least they could.

Spurred on by this idea, Gilbert straightened and stepped away from his spot. Ludwig immediately noticed and arched a brow at him but said nothing as he watched his brother stride around the thrones. Gilbert didn’t stop until he was standing just in front of the two Italian sisters. He managed to catch Lovina’s attention, and with her, Feliciana’s, who peeked curiously from behind her older sister but stayed quiet.

From this close, after an hour and a half of stolen glances, Gilbert felt the full impact of seeing Lovina again. He hadn’t approached her since the ball began, and now, just like when she first stepped into the ballroom, she took his breath away. It was like looking into sunlight after too long in the dark.

He stood there a moment too long, dazed and vaguely stunned, his mind scrubbed clean of thought.

What… had he come over here for again?

Oh, right!

He blinked hard, recovering, then gave her a slightly sheepish smile and leaned in to whisper: “Boring ball we’ve got here, huh?”

Lovina's eyes flickered, then she gave a small nod. “I thought it would be… different.” she murmured, glancing across the room at the divided crowd.

Gilbert nodded. “Mhm. They should be dancing and having a blast. Not… whatever this is.”

The brunette shrugged, her gaze narrowing a little. “I don’t know if…” Her eyes slid toward the Italian side of the court. “If they even want to have fun here. Not with them...” She gave a faint nod toward the Austro-Hungarians, her mouth tightening just a bit.

“Yeah…” the albino sighed, nodding in agreement. But then, with a shift in tone and posture, he turned fully toward Lovina, his grin returning, more sure of itself than before. “But hey! Just because they’re not having fun doesn’t mean we have to stand around being bored!”

Lovina blinked, surprised. Her attention turned from the divided crowd back to him, her head tilting slightly in confusion. “Huh?” she let out. “What do you mean by that?”

Gilbert hesitated for only a second, but even though the nerves were there, he didn’t let them stop him. With a swift motion, he stepped forward and offered a short, polite bow. Then, lifting his head just enough to meet her gaze, he extended a hand toward her and smiled, warm and a little hopeful.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

Lovina’s eyes widened in surprise as they flicked from his offered hand to his face.
“Dance?” she repeated, still stunned. “With… you?”

A hand flew to her face as she turned away, shutting her eyes in a flustered panic.
Dance? He wants me to dance with him?!

The question rang through her head as she tried to make sense of his offer. Her heart was racing madly, her face felt hot, definitely red. But putting all that aside, she was absolutely thrilled! Gilbert wanted to dance with her! Her! Ah! What a dream! She could hardly believe it. Spinning across the floor with him? Waaaahhh! Just like in a fairytale!

She’d read one like that during the carriage ride to the Austrian lands—the book she’d bought from that French marketplace… and also the one she’d borrowed (okay, maybe taken) from the Spanish library. Ah, she really did love a good fairytale…

She turned back toward Gilbert, eyes gleaming with real excitement, ready to accept. But just as she opened her mouth, her eyes drifted back to the ballroom. The two courts were still divided on either side, and the space between them, the middle of the room, was completely empty.

And… she froze.

Wait a second… if I say yes, we’ll be dancing… alone?

With everyone staring?!

Her gaze stuck to the empty floor, and she cringed. That would be… incredibly embarrassing.

Dancing alone in private was fine. Dancing amongst others was also fine. But being the only pair on the floor, with all those eyes watching…?!

Wah! What would her people think?! Would they see her as brave… no, bold enough to twirl across the room despite the clear division between courts? Or would they think she’d completely lost her mind after joining the Spanish court, doing wild things like this?

Both were entirely possible.

She glanced back at Gilbert, and his grin was starting to fade. He was still waiting, clearly wondering if her silence meant she was going to say no…

Oof.

She sighed mentally, caught between her pride and the dream of dancing with him. And… as embarrassing as it might be during and after, she really, really wanted to do it…

She puffed her cheeks, squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then nodded, vigorously, her fists curled slightly in front of her.

“S-sure!” she blurted out, as if the nod hadn’t made it obvious enough.

She peeked up at him, and the joy on his face nearly made her forget the embarrassment altogether. He looked as if someone had just handed him the stars.

And, well… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“You…” Gilbert began, still looking her way with what was probably a stupid grin, at least, that’s how he imagined he looked. He just hoped he didn’t come off too smitten… though, let’s be real, he totally did. He was ecstatic. She said yes! He could’ve sworn his heart had skipped a beat.

His grin widened even more as he brought his hand a little closer toward her. “Then let’s go!” he said cheerfully.

Lovina gave a small nod, followed by a soft laugh at his enthusiasm, and then slowly placed her hand in his.

He tugged her gently toward him, but she hesitated.

“B-but… the…” she mumbled, glancing around. Some of the guests had started to notice… her, with him, the Germanic king and cousin of the Austro-Hungarian emperor. A few were already casting curious or confused looks their way. “…people…”

Gilbert let out a short chuckle. “Don’t think about them,” he said, flashing his usual overconfident grin. “They don’t matter!”

Lovina laughed under her breath, though she furrowed her brows slightly. “They kind of do, though…”

He shook his head with a mock-serious expression. Then, turning back to her, he began to walk backwards, still holding her hand, guiding her to follow. She took a few cautious steps after him.

“Tell you what,” he said, still smiling. “Just for now, don’t focus on them. Focus on…” He paused for a moment, clearly thinking, before continuing, with that same bright look, though now a little flustered. “Me..! If you want, that is. How does that sound?”

Lovina looked at him, her eyes wide. Her heart suddenly picked up the pace… thump-thump-thump!
This idiot and his words…

She bit her lower lip briefly, looking down before glancing back up at him, then gave him a half-smirk. “That sounds… banale.” (corny)

Gilbert gasped, feigning a wounded look, and brought his free hand to his chest in a dramatic gesture. “You wound me!”

Lovina rolled her eyes, but didn’t stop following him. Step by step, still holding his hand, she let herself be led toward the center of the ballroom…

Feliciana watched the scene unfold with curious eyes, which lit up with excitement the moment she realized what was about to happen. Ohh, how bold, sorella! she thought, bringing a hand to her face.

Meanwhile, Ludwig looked thoroughly confused. At first, he had no idea what his brother was up to… hopefully nothing too reckless. But as he followed the direction Gilbert and Lovina were heading, realization slowly dawned on him, and he blinked in surprise.

Elizabeta and Roderich were locked in on the pair as well, wearing equally conflicted expressions.
Elizabeta’s face said something like: “Huh, that’s rather valiant...”
While Roderich’s expression screamed: “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! GILBERT, GET BACK HERE—AND THAT GIRL!”

He even voiced it, in a sort of whispered-yell:
“Gilbert! What are you—?! That is a horrible idea! If you don’t come back this instant, I will—!”

Unfortunately… or rather, fortunately for the daring pair, Gilbert and Lovina were already too far away to hear him. The only thing reaching their ears now was the music floating gently through the air.

Roderich slumped deeper into his seat, looking utterly defeated. With a groan, he pressed both hands to his face, not even caring that he was smudging his glasses.
“Why do I even bother…” he muttered to no one in particular.

Elizabeta could sympathize. As much as she loved a good bold move, even she had to admit, this wasn’t exactly the smoothest political statement Gilbert could’ve made.
“Ah, Gil…” she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief.

Her eyes stayed fixed on him and Lovina, who had just reached the center of the ballroom.
And now… all eyes were on them.

The girl’s gaze drifted from Gilbert to the crowd surrounding them. She was facing the Austro-Hungarian side, and their expressions were unmistakably judgmental… narrowed eyes, arched brows, and whispered words passed between them. She couldn’t see her own people behind her, but she had no doubt they were just as stunned to witness their former princess dancing with the Germanic king (Well, not dancing yet, but clearly about to). Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she let out a quiet sigh. She didn’t like the stares, neither the ones she could see nor the ones she could only feel. And she especially didn’t like being judged…

Gilbert seemed to notice it too, and, true to form, he didn’t let it go unspoken.
“What’s with that look?” he asked quietly, blinking at her with a flicker of concern in his expression.

Lovina lingered on the crowd for a moment longer before shifting her gaze back to the albino in front of her. She studied his face briefly, then gave a small nod over his shoulder.

“They’re staring…” she murmured, her eyes drifting to the floor. “Too much.” she added, almost as an afterthought.

Gilbert looked at her in surprise, then turned his head slightly to glance at the Austro-Hungarian nobles behind him. Sure enough, they were staring… judgmentally, of course. But then again, when weren’t Austro-Hungarians judgmental? Those people always had something to say, whether it concerned them or not. Or at least, that’s how Gilbert saw it.

He turned back to Lovina with a more resolved expression. Offering a small smile, he stepped closer, just enough to block her view of the crowd, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze to pull her attention back to him.

At that, Lovina’s gaze lifted from the ground to his face. She blinked at him in surprise.

Gilbert’s smile widened, then softened as he turned his attention to the music played by the royal musicians… an energetic, classical Austrian piece.
“Do you know this song?” he asked, glancing back at Lovina.

She looked at him, puzzled by the sudden question. “The song?” she repeated, raising a brow.

He gave a small nod. “Mhm!”

Lovina furrowed her brows slightly and tilted her head, focusing on the melody. A few seconds passed before her face lit up with recognition.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, then looked at him and nodded. “I know it, yeah! It’s… uh—” she paused, searching for the name, then perked up again. “La Battalia! That is the name!”

Gilbert let out a small laugh. “Yeah, haha, seems like you know every song on Earth, whether it’s Italian or Austrian!” he said jokingly.

Lovina rolled her eyes. “Austrian music is classical. It’s a must to know the songs.” she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

That earned another chuckle from the Prussian. “I guess. But I only know the Austrian ones Roderich made me listen to. The others…” He tilted his head and made a vague face. “Ehhh…” He laughed. “Does that mean I’m lacking in common knowledge?”

“Maybe.” Lovina said with a faint smirk.

The albino smiled at her, clearly amused.

At first, Lovina had thought Gilbert’s sudden change of topic had come out of nowhere. But now… it didn’t take her long to realize it had been anything but random. Somehow, without her noticing, he’d managed to steer her attention entirely away from the crowd. She hadn’t even realized they were still watching her… she had forgotten all about it, or that she couldn’t see them at all with him standing in front of her. That had been on purpose. And maybe she would’ve pointed it out, maybe asked him about it, if he hadn’t tugged her closer just then, grinning all the while.

“Well then, come on. I clearly need to refresh my common knowledge, because I’ve no idea how you’re supposed to dance to this one!”

Lovina blinked, caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement. Oh, he was absolutely trying to distract her. From the people around them. From everything that wasn’t him. And honestly? She was a little grateful for it… Without him pulling her focus, she probably would’ve spent the whole time stressing over the stares and the whispers… The embarrassment alone might’ve swallowed her whole.

A little smile tugged at her lips before she could stop it. She looked down at the marble flooring, trying to hide the soft blush warming her cheeks. This guy… He was watching over her again, just like with the horse. Back then, he’d told her he ‘needed her to be safe’. And now, it seemed, that still applied. She would’ve been lying if she said that didn’t make her heart flutter. Doing all of this just for her… Woah. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to start blushing more visibly.

After steadying her thoughts, Lovina took a quiet breath and lifted her gaze again, meeting his with a look that was both amused and just a little bold.

“You are a king, are you not? You should know how to dance to any song.” she teased.

As she placed her free hand on his shoulder, Gilbert noticed the change in her attitude and, with a small smirk, lifted their joined hands slightly into the air. His other hand settled at the upper part of her back, just beneath her forearm.

He gave a casual shrug, then grinned. “Oh, I can dance to anything. I just… can’t quite remember what move comes right at this part of the song.”

Lovina tilted her head, listening more closely. The music featured a piano and a lute… and then, suddenly, a violin entered with a bright, quick rhythm. That’s when it clicked. She knew exactly what was coming at the next bridge in the song!

“A spin. Definitely a spin!” she said, confident now, flashing him a smug little look that practically said, ‘I know everything’.

The Prussian chuckled at her enthusiasm, then flashed a smug grin of his own. Lovina wasn’t sure why… what did he have to be smug about?
That question was answered a moment later as the violin swelled and the familiar part of the music approached.

“Like this?” Gilbert asked casually.

“Like wha—?” Lovina began, confused.

But she didn’t get the chance to finish. Right on the beat, Gilbert spun her, suddenly and without warning. The motion was so swift and unexpected that when she found herself facing him again, her eyes were wide with surprise, as if the spin had left her dizzy. But it wasn’t dizziness.

Her pulse quickened. She blinked at him, again and again, trying to process what had just happened, while Gilbert laughed at her stunned reaction.

She let her heart race for a moment, its rhythm louder and faster than before, before furrowing her brows and shaking her head. “That was not fair!” she protested, clearly flustered despite trying not to sound it. “I wasn’t ready!”

Gilbert gave her that look again, that smug look! But then… it softened into something else, something rather hard to describe. It was maddening… but also more than that. Heart-opening? No, not quite. Eye-opening, maybe, but even that didn’t seem to fit. His gaze was so focused, so fiercely sincere, it felt like he could see straight through her. And she hoped he couldn’t, because then he’d know just how much she was overthinking everything… especially his gaze. And yet… oh, how it made her heart race.

With his head tilted slightly, he asked softly, “Are you ready now?”

Lovina was so caught in his eyes she couldn’t even speak. She gave the faintest nod, as if her body answered before her mind could catch up.

His smile widened, if such a thing were even possible.
“Then… come on. Let’s dance!”

She stared at him for a long moment, letting the sound of his voice pull her away from everything else, the others in the room, their stares that surely hadn’t left them since they’d stepped into the center…

Her heart still pounded, but now it felt… lighter. Lifted in the strangest way. She glanced down for just a second, and a small laugh escaped her. She just couldn’t believe this guy… how he could get her to relent so easily, to dance so freely in a space charged with political tension. It was completely absurd. Amusing, even. And maybe… just a bit concerning. But the amusement won out.

When she looked back up, she smiled. She couldn’t help it.

“All right,” she said, giving him another nod, more vigorous this time. “Facciamolo!” (Let’s!)

Gilbert recognized the word instantly. After all that time spent with his nose buried in that Italian dictionary back in Spain, it was only natural. He returned her smile with one of his own, bright and happy. And just like that, he guided her into a waltz fit for the upbeat tune—one that Lovina, naturally, fell right into step with.

With the lively rhythm carrying them forward, they began this part of the dance with the proper step, their joined hands rising between them while their free hands curved outward just so. Gilbert remembered the angle from lessons he’d barely endured as a boy.

He’d never liked dancing when it was taught in stuffy rooms with stiff instructors. He only enjoyed it when it was on his own terms, and only with someone he genuinely liked. Someone like… Lovina. And dancing with her? He could say a lot about that.

There was a thrill to it, not just because she was practically in his arms, (not literally, but close enough) but because they were doing it in front of everyone. And people were definitely watching. Honestly, like, 90% of the room had to be stunned that anyone would dare to dance while tensions still simmered. Gilbert knew it too, knew this might come back on his cousin, and yes, he cared. But at the same time… These people were wasting a perfectly good song by just standing there, being… boring. And he… well, he didn’t do boring. Especially not when Lovina had said yes!

He honestly hadn’t expected her to agree. She’d said she hated being stared at, and this was one sure way to get a whole crowd to look your way. But still… she said yes.

And now that they were truly doing this, dancing, spinning, right in the middle of everything, it was like nothing else mattered. Not even the consequences... Just her. Just Lovina.

And that thought… It kind of hit him like a brick, but a good, romantic kind of brick. His gaze locked on her face as they moved together in a slow circle during a brief lull in the melody. Their hands were lifted between them, fingers touching, and every now and then, when he wasn’t too caught up looking at her face (which, to be fair, was most of the time), his eyes drifted to where their hands met…

And for some reason, it took him this long to realize that… wait. He was holding her hand.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t actual hand-holding by the textbook definition… but it counted, didn’t it? Her palm was against his. Her fingers touched his. Skin to skin. And her hand, just as he’d imagined, was soft…

Indoors, he’d never had the chance to really grab her hand. And outdoors, it had always been too cold. When he had grabbed her hand, she’d been wearing gloves. So had he. But now? Now there was nothing between them. Nothing but her warmth and softness, right there against his skin…

His heart? Absolutely pounding. Possibly fast enough to break the sound barrier. Was that even a real phrase? Probably not. But whatever. The point was… he was utterly, completely, shamelessly smitten with this girl.

Another twirl came soon. When it did, Gilbert had to snap himself out of his daze as he’d been absentmindedly daydreaming about Lovina’s… hand. Not weird at all, by the way! Once he came to, he took the lead, guiding their joined hands downward to chest height before gently adjusting his grip, inviting her into the spin.

Lovina moved in step, turning just enough for her skirt to flare slightly. She wore an amused expression, though he had no clue why until she returned from the twirl. That’s when he caught her hand again, this time a little more firmly.

She glanced at his face as they continued into the waltz, then let out a scoff. “I thought you said you did not remember how to dance to this song… but here you are, taking the lead and everything… so you do know how to!” She shook her head in mock disapproval.

Gilbert watched her with a grin of his own. As they began to circle each other again, their joined hands lifted between them, he let out a small chuckle. “I said I needed to refresh my memory,” he replied. “And it’s been refreshed enough to remember now.” Then he flashed her a smug smile

At that, Lovina snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’re a horrible liar.” But then, her sarcastic smile softened into something more sincere, and she aimed it right at him. Gilbert caught it just as his gaze drifted from their joined hands to her face.

His heart gave a strange little jolt. It always did when she smiled, honestly. She had such a beautiful smile, and she really ought to wear it more often. (Lately, she had been, which was something he couldn’t help but notice.)

They kept moving, waltzing in sync. What neither of them noticed, however, was the subtle shift in the atmosphere around them… because at that moment, all their attention was on each other….

The eyes that had once watched them with judgment began to change, first to curiosity, then to something closer to awe. Many of the Italians in the room seemed to register what this dance might mean: if their former princess, the eldest daughter of the old Italian throne, was openly dancing with the Emperor’s cousin, the King of the Germanic Nation, a Germanic royal, then perhaps she held no resentment toward it…

Even if that wasn’t why Lovina had agreed to dance with Gilbert (not that anyone needed to know), the message it sent was rather powerful. It suggested she bore no ill will toward the Empire that now included the northern part of Italy. And surprisingly, this idea seemed to spread through the room, encouraging her people to let go of their grudges.

Little by little, the Italians began to follow her example, not in resentment, but in willingness. Willingness to speak, to mingle, to try. Rather than reject the Empire, they began, however tentatively, to consider building relationships within it.

And it wasn’t just the Italians who noticed. The Austro-Hungarians did too. They were taken aback by the sight: their Emperor’s cousin, dancing with a former Italian princess, not caring who was watching. It made them stop and think. Had they been the ones holding on too tightly to old grudges and old ideas about the Empire?

Maybe, like their ruler’s cousin, it was time to move forward. Time to reach out to this newly added land and finally treat its people as equals… because that’s what they were now, weren’t they? Part of the Empire.

And with that shared thought, something changed in the ballroom. The old tension faded, and for the first time that night, both sides began to truly let go, and simply enjoy the ball…

First, a few Italians stepped onto the floor, joining the King and their former princess in the rhythm of the song. In pairs, they began to dance alongside them.

Then, slowly but surely, some Austro-Hungarians followed. Standing stiffly on the sidelines no longer seemed appealing, and couples from their side joined in, weaving into the flow enthusiastically.

What came next was even more unexpected. A few Italian men approached Austro-Hungarian ladies and politely asked them to dance. And, perhaps to everyone’s surprise, they accepted. The same happened in reverse: Austro-Hungarian gentlemen crossed the floor to offer their hands to Italian women, and they, too, agreed with smiles and nods.

Soon, the two groups that had once stood so divided were moving together in harmony, mingling freely, the lines between them beginning to blur. And it wasn’t just for appearances… they were laughing, smiling, truly enjoying themselves! For the first time that evening, the ballroom felt unified.

From the sidelines, Roderich and Elizabeta watched the unfolding scene with stunned expressions. Neither of them had expected Gilbert and Lovina’s boldness to bring about anything positive… if anything, they had braced for scandal or backlash. Yet here they stood, witnessing the opposite.

Italians and Austro-Hungarians were no longer keeping to their sides. They were dancing, not just with their own, but with each other. And the people who weren’t dancing had started to mingle too, no longer sticking to their separate groups. Instead, they came together, talking, laughing, making the whole room feel alive and welcoming.

An hour ago, this would’ve seemed impossible… But they’d been wrong. So very wrong.

Somehow, through nothing more than a dance, Lovina and Gilbert had sparked something Roderich himself hadn’t managed in all the months Northern Italy had been part of his empire!

Roderich shifted on his throne, nearly rising to his feet in disbelief. “They’re…” he murmured, blinking hard as if his eyes were playing tricks on him. When the sight remained unchanged, he adjusted his glasses and blinked again. “...mingling.”

Beside him, Elizabeta suddenly grabbed his arm, practically overflowing with excitement and relief. “THEY AREEEE! AAAAHHH, RODERICH, THEY’RE MIXING!” she squealed, shaking him with both hands.

“Liebe—! (Dear) My glasses are going to fall!” he exclaimed, struggling to keep them in place under her overly enthusiastic assault.

At that, Elizabeta let go, laughing softly. “Oops!”

But Roderich wasn’t irritated in the slightest. How could he be? Things couldn’t have gone better for both of them! And to think, it was all thanks to that cousin of his, Gilbert… someone he never would’ve expected to cause such a positive shift in their Empire, let alone through something as simple as asking Feliciana’s sister for a dance…

(Though, in truth, it had been Lovina too. Her willingness to step onto the floor had sparked the change in the Italians. So… it had been both of them!)

Feliciana and Ludwig had also been watching the scene in surprise—at least, until Feliciana’s surprise quickly turned to excitement.

“Everyone’s dancing!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together as she beamed at the sight of the swirling pairs in the center of the ballroom, her sister among them, dancing with the Prussian.

Ludwig had been watching his brother up until that moment, trying to understand what exactly he’d done to cause such a stir. But when he turned to Feliciana, something shifted in him too… something bold. A kind of courage he wasn’t used to when it came to things like this. Maybe Gilbert’s example had rubbed off on him, just a little.

He stepped closer to her, just a bit shy, though there was a small smile on his face. When she turned to him, he met her gaze and offered his hand.
“Do you… want to dance too?”

At that, the light brunette lit up like a candle, her eyes practically sparkling. She grabbed his hand eagerly, rather than just placing hers in it, and began waving her free one in excitement.

“Yes!”

Ludwig laughed softly at her endless enthusiasm. But then again, that was one of the things he liked about her. And so, hand in hand, he led her onto the floor, where they joined the others.

Lovina and Gilbert circled each other again, their steps nearly perfect. It was meant to be a casual dance, just for fun, but somehow, they hadn't made a single mistake. Her skirt brushed lightly against his feet as they turned close. He lifted her hand over her head, then gently lowered it as she spun back to him. Then he shifted direction, guiding her in a broader sweep across the floor.

She followed readily, more at ease now, no longer tense. She wasn’t even looking at the people around them anymore, though that had been her worry at first. But he’d forgotten them too. All he could see was her… and the way she looked at that moment made his chest ache. In the best possible way.

He spun her again, slower this time, watching how her hair moved ever so slightly with the motion. But as she was still turning, something caught his eye… at the back of her hair, the bow he’d noticed before looked strangely familiar now that he was really paying attention. At first, he’d assumed it was a fine ribbon from the palace, but the color didn’t match her dress or the other red accents she wore, which suggested something more refined. This was… darker. Wait… could it be…?

When Lovina returned to him from the spin, their hands met, palms pressing together for the next figure—the final two turns. As they faced each other, he spoke before turning her, “The bow in your hair… it’s…”

Lovina’s attention flickered, and she understood immediately. “Oh! Yeah, it’s the same fabric you gave me back in France… Though now I am wearing it as a bow.” She blinked at him expectantly, then asked, “Do you like it?”

Did he like it? Of course! What kind of question was that? She looked absolutely adorable. But the real question was why she’d choose to wear it now, at such a formal event. Surely there were other options?

He chuckled softly. “Of course I do. But why wear it here? Were the other options that bad?” He joked, but stopped quickly when he noticed her expression had turned unexpectedly serious. Why was that…?

She stood silent for a moment as they completed the first of the two turns. Gilbert began to worry he’d said something foolish, given how strangely quiet Lovina had become. He was already thinking of how to smooth things over when, just as they met again for the second turn—paused, not spinning—she finally spoke.

“It’s not that…” she confessed, looking up at him with such sincere eyes that Gilbert’s full attention was captured instantly. Then she hesitated, a flush rising to her cheeks as she pouted slightly, embarrassed. Her gaze dropped to their moving feet—well, she could only see his, as hers were hidden beneath her voluminous skirt.

Gilbert didn’t know why her words seemed so hard for her to say, so he simply blinked at her in surprise.

But Lovina found the courage to continue. “The Empress… she talked before the ball about wearing special accessories and clothing. And I guess…” she looked back at him, her gaze even more earnest than before, causing his chest to tighten painfully, “I guess I must consider your gift rather special… to have chosen to wear it tonight.”

She bit her lip, turning even redder. Thank goodness the second turn began, giving her a chance to look away from Gilbert’s wide-eyed surprise. She likely would have resembled a crab if she’d stared at his face any longer, so shocked was he… as if she’d just revealed something truly astonishing.

As they spun, Gilbert was speechless, as though splashed with cold water. He could only blink in disbelief. That simple headpiece he’d bought her nearly two weeks ago… she considered it special? His gift? His heart felt shaken anew, and the hand he used to spin her began to sweat. He hoped she hadn’t noticed…

But never mind that…! She considered his gift special! God, he couldn’t believe it. A surge of joy and excitement exploded in his chest, doubling the thrill he already felt. But alongside it came other feelings. If she found that simple, inexpensive piece, bought at a market, special, then perhaps, just as the French merchant had told him, she knew it had been given “from the heart.”

And if she considered it special, did that mean there was a chance… one he hadn’t dared imagine before, that Lovina might… possibly… maybe… like him? Not just as a friend, which he already knew, but as something more? A potential partner?

The thought only made everything he was feeling more intense…. his heart pounding, his face hot, sweat gathering in his palm, and a nervous churn in his stomach…

And when she turned back to him for the final figure of the dance, when their palms met again and their fingers slid together in time with the fading rhythm, something about it made him… impulsive. But it wasn’t just that. There was something about this last movement that felt… deeply intimate.

Their joined hands rose slowly between them, lifting until they hovered just above their brows, shutting out everything else. The only thing they could see now was each other’s eyes. And naturally, that was all they looked at.

Gilbert’s red gaze was caught, completely, by Lovina’s hazel one. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Even though they stood in a crowded room, this moment felt like it belonged to them alone. And in that moment, the love he felt for her grew even stronger.

He couldn’t help but wonder… maybe she felt something too. The thought spun around in his mind like a game of “she loves me”, “she loves me not”, plucking imaginary petals until all that remained was “she loves me”. He already knew how he felt about her. That certainty burned bright inside him. And it was enough to push him toward acting on it, even if he tried to hold himself back just a little. But if there was even the chance she might feel the same… then whatever restraint he had left slipped away.

The music dwindled, drawing closer to the end of the song. But Gilbert didn’t notice. The world beyond Lovina’s eyes might as well have vanished.

As the movement brought their hands downward again, it felt like the slow fall of a curtain. Their fingers passed by their cheeks… lips… necks… until finally coming to rest between them, right in front of their chests. This was where the dance was supposed to end, where he should’ve let go, stepped away, maybe stayed for the next song or left the floor entirely.

But Gilbert didn’t let go. He didn’t want to.

His gaze stayed locked on hers. And when Lovina tilted her head just slightly, blinking up at him with those beautiful eyes, he could tell she was a little confused by his hesitation. But he couldn’t help it.

Almost without thinking, his mouth opened and…
“Lovina… I…”

His fingers stayed loosely curled around hers, then tightened just a little. A deeper flush rose up his neck and spread across his cheeks. His heart pounded far too fast and loud. Sweat gathered along his brow and back, and that tight, churning feeling stirred in his gut even more fiercely than before…

Lovina kept staring at him, confused. “Mh?” was all she managed, her puzzled gaze still fixed on his.

And maybe he would’ve noticed… if his own eyes hadn’t dropped from hers… to her lips.

And that was it. His brain short-circuited. Words fled. So did restraint. He didn’t think anymore, he just moved, finally acting on what he’d wanted for far too long. He leaned in.

His half-lidded gaze caught the blurry shape of her lips as he drew closer. Just before his eyes closed, a single thought lingered: If she doesn’t want this… she’ll pull away. He knew that. But still… he hoped. Hoped she wouldn’t.

Now he was close… so close. Her breath warmed his cheek. His own brushed her lips. He wanted to kiss her so badly it ached in him… like hunger after days without food.

And Lovina… didn’t move away.

She only stared—wide-eyed, dazed—as a rosy flush bloomed fast across her face. And her thoughts… they were a little less poetic than his… more along the lines of:
WAAAHHHH WHAT IS HAPPENING?! IS THIS WHAT I THINK HE’S TRYING TO DO?! WHY IS HE SUDDENLY GETTING SO CLOSE?! WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!

Panic raced through her mind. Without thinking, she squeezed her eyes shut, brow twitching with confusion as she held her breath, just like anyone might when they’re unsure, overwhelmed, and bracing for something they don’t understand.

But just as Gilbert was about to close the gap, a thought suddenly struck him, one that cut through his impulsiveness, brought back his sense of reason, and stopped him mid-motion.

This… wasn’t proper. This wasn’t decent. This was public.

His image wasn’t at risk… he was not only a man but also a royal. But hers was. To compromise a lady’s reputation simply because he couldn’t control himself… That wasn’t right. And this wasn’t just any lady. This was Lovina. Surely, if anyone noticed, it would reflect poorly on her...

(Though, in truth, not a soul was looking anymore. The music for the second dance had already begun, and the crowd was already twirling and chatting, fully distracted. But he didn’t know that.)

And she had implied just earlier how much she hated being stared at… especially with judgment in people’s eyes.

He couldn’t be the cause of that…

If he kissed her now, he’d be the one to blame. Even if he proposed later, even if they married, people would say it only happened because he had compromised her. She’d still be seen as scandalous. And what if… what if she didn’t want to marry him? That would be even worse for her. What if she ended up hating him for this? What if he ruined everything?

But she hadn’t pulled away… she was still standing close, eyes shut tight, like she was waiting for…

No, Gilbert. He tried to steady himself, tried to quiet the mess of thoughts spinning through his mind. In the end, he chose what he supposed was the right thing, even if it wasn’t what he wanted… Reluctantly, he bit his tongue, and stepped back.

Lovina, who had been holding her breath for far too long, furrowed her brows deeper. Nothing was happening. Why… wasn’t it? She’d thought… assumed something would. But there was only silence…

Tentatively, she cracked open one eye, then the other when she realized Gilbert was suddenly a step farther away. Her gaze snapped to him in surprise and confusion.

Gilbert stared back, just as bewildered, and awkward. He didn’t speak right away. Then, finally, he cleared his throat.

“I—I think we should…!” he blurted, voice higher than usual, scrambling for an excuse. But nothing convincing came to mind, so his eyes darted around the ballroom for inspiration.

That’s when he noticed it: movement. Lots of it. The dance floor had filled up. People were dancing… actually dancing. When had that happened? Hadn’t everyone looked stiff and grim just moments ago?

The question flickered through his mind, but he shook it off. Later. Right now, this was his perfect out! They were standing in the middle of the dance floor, not dancing, and it was about to become a problem…

Clearing his throat again, Gilbert looked back at her. “We should, uh… get off the floor. That’s what I think…! There’s a lot of people dancing now and, uh… wouldn’t want to get trampled.”

He laughed awkwardly, hoping it sounded more believable than it felt…

At that, Lovina furrowed her brows and blinked at him, confused. “Uh…? People…?” she echoed slowly, glancing around… and yeah. Sure enough, the dance floor was now full of couples twirling all around them. She hadn’t been paying attention… not once she’d started staring at Gilbert.

Her gaze flicked back to him. And slowly, her confusion began to shift into something else.
Embarrassment.

Her frown deepened as she muttered, “I thought…” but then trailed off, realizing she couldn’t even begin to explain what she’d assumed. How could she say it out loud? That she’d thought he was going to—?!

AH! Dio mio!

Her face flushed bright red, brighter than before, as she sucked in a sharp breath and puffed out her cheeks. She let it out with a flustered exhale, quickly covering her face with both hands, wishing she could disappear on the spot.

What was wrong with her?! Letting her ridiculous feelings get in the way like that… WHAT THE HELL, LOVINA?!

She groaned quietly, mortified, hands pressed to her face, careful not to smudge her makeup, as she shrank in on herself, gripped by secondhand embarrassment that somehow felt like firsthand. So much so that she barely managed to whisper: “Never mind what I thought…” And then, barely audible at all, she added behind her hands: “Oh mio Dio… uccidimi…” (Oh my God… kill me…)

This was, without a doubt, the most humiliating moment of her entire life.

The Prussian stared at her, confused. “Uhm… are you…?” he began, noticing how she’d suddenly hidden her face behind her hands. His brows drew together.

Great, he sighed inwardly. He’d definitely done something wrong. She probably thought he was weird. Or awkward. Or just plain stupid. Stupid, stupid! he berated himself, groaning in silence. Why couldn’t he just act normal around her for once?! (Well… he knew why. But that wasn’t the point.)

He kept watching her, his heart sinking. He’d upset her, hadn’t he? With his dumb, confusing actions… he needed to make it right. So, he tried again, his voice softer. “Lovina, are you—?”

But before he could finish, the girl suddenly dropped her hands from her face and looked up at him, wide-eyed and flustered. “I am okay! I am very… okay!” she exclaimed, though the panic in her voice said otherwise. “I just…” She faltered, glancing down, biting her lip the way she always did when something was bothering her. Gilbert caught it and felt a sharp pang in his chest.

He had upset her.

But then she looked up again, breathless and red-faced. “I just suddenly need some… air! Ossigeno!” (Oxigen!) she blurted, nodding quickly. “Mhm! Just some… air!”

The albino looked at her with growing concern. “Oxygen?” he echoed, eyebrows knitting. “Lovina… did I—”

But he didn’t get the chance to finish.

A dancing couple spun between them, forcing Lovina to take a quick step back. Gilbert blinked, startled, and watched as the pair twirled away out of sight. When he looked back at her, Lovina was already looking at him with an expression he couldn’t make sense of.

(But I can tell you what it was: embarrassment. You know the look… red face, eyebrows pulled down, a pouty mouth, maybe even eyes a little watery, though that last one might be a stretch.)

To Gilbert, though, it just looked like she was upset. Really upset. And that hit him like a punch to the gut, kind of like the ones Lizzy used to give him when they were kids. For… well, basically existing. But we’re getting off topic!

Just as he made a move to step toward her, to say something, anything, Lovina suddenly blurted: “Vado a prendere aria!” (I’m going to get air!) The words came out so fast he barely had time to register the Italian, let alone respond.

And then… bam! She turned on her heel and darted off the dance floor, nearly crashing into five couples along the way. Gilbert stood frozen, watching her disappear into the crowd. And then she was gone…

It took him about half a second to register what had just happened, and another half to snap out of it and jolt into motion.

“Lovina…!” he called, shaking his head and weaving off the dance floor after her, feeling about as stupid as humanly possible.

He had actually upset her. That had to be it, right? Why else would she run off like that? God, he thought, groaning inwardly. He was terrible at this. They’d been having such a good time… talking, dancing, and then… he just had to go and ruin it all with his inability to keep his… mouth to himself!

He pushed his way through the crowd, dodging Austro-Hungarians and Italians, eyes scanning frantically for any sign of the brunette. He needed to find her. Apologize. Say something to fix this. Anything that would make her less upset…

“Lovina!” he tried again, louder this time. But no answer. And no trace of her anywhere.

The people around him weren’t much help either. Not that he asked them about her or anything… he didn’t want them getting the wrong idea, hearing him call out her name like some kind of lunatic. It was all very misleading. Even though, yeah… he really had unsettled her.

Still, at least no one seemed to be paying him any attention… Everyone was too busy dancing, chatting, actually enjoying themselves. Which was good. Great, even. That meant no one was witnessing his slow descent into frantic self-loathing.

(He still had no idea how everyone suddenly decided to stop sulking and start dancing, but hey, maybe they all collectively realized that holding grudges wasn’t exactly a party.)

The Prussian sighed and glanced across the ballroom, spotting Roderich and Elizabeta still seated. Maybe from their vantage point, they’d seen where Lovina went. The thought circled through his mind, and whether they had or not, he had to try. Because… he really needed to apologize to her.

…Except, what was he even supposed to say?
“Hey, sorry for almost kissing you! Bet that was super uncomfortable and freaked you out!”
Ugh! No! That was awful. That was the worst way to phrase it!

He winced and rubbed his temple, still mentally kicking himself as he started heading toward Roderich and Elizabeta, trying to come up with literally anything better than that…

.
.
.

Now, where exactly had Lovina run off to?

Somehow, despite the sheer number of guests and the size of her dress, she’d managed to slip through the crowd without much trouble, hugging the edge of the ballroom, dodging past dancers and weaving through small groups of onlookers. It was actually kind of impressive, considering how much fabric was involved.

Quietly, without drawing attention, she slipped through the open gates and into the palace gardens. She didn’t go far, just enough to be out of sight. The music still drifted faintly from inside, seeping into the stillness beyond. She stopped beside a narrow staircase leading to a small door tucked into the side of the stone palace wall, probably meant for garden workers. There weren’t any guards posted here. No footsteps. No voices. Just her, her thoughts… and the crisp, snow-covered greenery, which the staff had clearly worked hard to clear for the ball.

She let out a long, frustrated sigh. Her hand rose instinctively to her face—she wanted to drag it down in exasperation, but stopped halfway. Right, she realized. Makeup. Smearing it wouldn’t help anything… So she just sighed again, louder this time, and sank down onto her knees with a heavy fwump, letting the layers of her dress puff out all around her like a wilted flower.

And that was when the fact that it was winter and she was outside in the cold really hit her. A chill crept up from the stone tiling beneath her, piercing through the fabric and settling in her knees. Then a sharp breeze blew in from the open garden path, making her flinch.

“Ahhh—s-so cold!” she muttered through clenched teeth, watching her breath curl into mist in front of her face. She quickly wrapped her arms around herself, trying to warm up, not that it helped much. “Why’d I even come out here?!” she complained, puffing her cheeks. “The snack table was right there…”

But even as she said it, the words rang hollow. She knew exactly why she’d run out into the gardens.

“…Oh,” she sighed to herself, shrinking in on her own thoughts as her arms wrapped around her tighter. “Damn it…”

She’d just committed the most clichéd move imaginable. Running away from a ballroom? Really? Who does that? But that wasn’t the real problem. That just made it worse. No, the reason she ran was because…

AHHHHH!!!
She thought Gilbert was going to kiss her! Why had she even started thinking that?! Sure, he’d leaned in! And his expression! His eyes! Anyone would’ve misunderstood that! Right?! …Right?

“Ughhh…” she groaned quietly, pressing her hands to her face carefully, like she had back in the ballroom. No smudging the makeup. Just… hiding. Hiding from the world, even if no one was around to witness her humiliation.

She couldn’t believe herself. She should’ve known better! Gilbert didn’t feel that way, he was her friend! Friends did weird… gestures sometimes. Sometimes they looked at you like that. (Right?! Oh… she definitely didn’t have enough male friends to know!) It didn’t mean anything!

…Except every time he did something like that, her heart practically exploded. And that’s what scared her the most. That part of her kept wondering… what if? What if he did feel the same? What if she wasn’t imagining it? But clearly she was, because he hadn’t kissed her. He hadn’t even tried…

So then… what even was that?! She didn’t know. She didn’t understand. Not what he was thinking, and certainly not what she was thinking anymore. It was all too much, too confusing, too embarrassing. That’s why she ran. That’s why she couldn’t face him right now. Maybe not tomorrow either. Maybe not until next spring!

God, what must he think of her now? That she was weird? Flighty? Some kind of awkward mess? Which… fair. She did just run off in the middle of a dance like some overwrought novel heroine…

The thought made her bury her face deeper in her hands, though still careful not to smudge her makeup. She groaned again, louder this time. And then… brrr! Another gust of wind hit her exposed skin, making her shiver violently.

“Ohhh, it’s freezing!” she whined through clenched teeth, pulling her hands away from her face and wrapping her arms around herself, rubbing up and down to warm up. “I shouldn’t have run outside… damn it, Lovina…!” she muttered to herself, realizing that coming out here was proving less helpful and more hypothermia-inducing…

.
.
.

Gilbert made his way back to the thrones, only to be met with two very peculiar expressions from Roderich and Elizabeta. He didn’t want to know what those looks meant… but unfortunately, he didn’t exactly have a choice. He still needed to ask if they’d seen where Lovina had run off to. And if they had, then they’d probably seen how she’d run from him too. Ah, fantastic. He’d never hear the end of it…

Unless… maybe he could still get out of this. Maybe Ludwig had seen where she went. He could ask him! Gilbert glanced around, hoping to spot his brother nearby. Ludwig had been standing right here next to the thrones earlier, when Gilbert had taken Lovina for a dance… but now, as he kept looking around, he realized the blond was nowhere in sight.

Weird. Wasn’t he just here a few minutes ago?

Gilbert frowned. Confusion gave way to reluctant resignation. Great. That meant he really did have to talk to Roderich and Lizzy. Just his luck. With a sigh through his nose, he turned to them, raising a brow and doing his best not to look like he was in a tight spot.

“Uh, where’s Ludwig?”

At the question, Elizabeta’s peculiar gaze shifted into something more knowing. With a small smile, she pointed toward the ballroom.
“Over there.”

The Prussian followed her gesture, and when his eyes landed on the exact spot she was pointing to, he blinked. Sure enough, there was Ludwig on the dance floor… dancing with Lovina’s younger sister.

“Oh,” was all he managed at first, clearly caught off guard by the sight. Then a small sneer crept onto his face, and he muttered, half amused, “Well… good for them...”

Still wearing that faint smirk, he turned back to Roderich and Elizabeta, his expression gradually shifting to something more serious. He drew in a breath, ready to ask the more pressing question… where had Lovina gone?

But before he could speak, Elizabeta beat him to it.

“Ah, but it’s a good thing you’re here, Gil!” she announced, far too cheerfully for his liking.

“Uh… it is?” he echoed, not following.

“Mhm!” She nodded and swept her hands toward the ballroom.

Gilbert blinked and glanced around, trying to piece together what exactly Lizzy meant by “It’s a good thing you’re here” and how the setting played into it.

All he could see was… well, the ballroom. The decorations. The musicians. People chatting and dancing… just like they were supposed to at a ball. He squinted. Okay… sure, it was a nicer scene than it had been at the start of the evening… but what did any of this have to do with him?

When he turned back to Elizabeta to ask for clarification, she simply smiled at him and suddenly said. “Thank you, Gil!”

He stared, confused. “Thank—?” he began, unable to grasp what exactly she was thanking him for, but was quickly interrupted by her husband, who chimed in, surprisingly on the same page.

“Yes, thank you, Gilbert,” Roderich added, far more reserved but still in agreement. “I’ll admit, I assumed your inability to sit still would cause more harm than good. But it seems that very flaw turned out to be… useful.” He gave the smallest of smiles. “Dancing with the Italian princess made a bold statement. And it worked. Just look around.”

Gilbert continued to stare at them, puzzled. “I did what…?” he repeated, furrowing his brows as he glanced back out at the ballroom, then back at them. “Uh… huh?” he muttered, still not quite processing it. “I caused… uh, this?”

“Well, you and Lovina!” Elizabeta corrected with a wink.

But then, suddenly, her tone shifted. Her grin turned oddly amused, eyebrows lowering as if she were trying to suppress a laugh.

“However—” she drawled, stretching out the word. “It’s a very good thing everyone’s so busy enjoying the ball now… and didn’t notice what happened at the end of your little waltz.” Her smile twitched, amusement overtaking the earlier gratitude. “That might’ve completely undone the statement you were trying to make!”

She let out a stifled laugh, covering her mouth with her hand to keep it in—barely.

Roderich, by contrast, didn’t bother holding back. He enjoyed pushing his cousin’s buttons, after all. Man, what a sadist.

“Yeah, I mean,” he said with a small smirk, “it’s not every day you dance with a girl… and she runs away from you immediately after.”

Elizabeta immediately burst into wheezy laughter, swatting him lightly on the shoulder. “Stop—! Stop, stop—you’re gonna make me laugh too hard!”

Gilbert froze in place at those words. An uncomfortable twist curled in his gut… irritation? Embarrassment? Maybe both. His face paled even more than usual, and he forced a shaky smile that barely passed for a grimace. His expression stiffened and detached, as if the remark had drained years from him.

“…Ah,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “So you did see… that.”

“Of course we did!” Elizabeta said between chuckles. “We’re literally sitting here watching the ballroom. And you danced dead center with Lovina! It’s hard to miss someone storming off.”

“Oh…” Gilbert’s voice was hollow, just in time for Roderich to add salt to the wound.

“Seriously, Gilbert, how do you manage to scare off every girl you talk to? Do you have any charisma at all?”

“Oh! Oh!” Elizabeta suddenly perked up, as if she’d just remembered something relevant, her hand flying to her mouth in a dramatic gasp. “Remember when we were teenagers? What, fourteen? Fifteen? When Gil had a huge crush on me, and I wanted nothing to do with it because I was already engaged to you?” she said, waving her hand with a laugh.

“Ah, yes,” Roderich responded, eyeing Gilbert with theatrical disapproval. “I was not particularly fond of him back then.” His expression quickly shifted into a sneer. “But my point still stands: you’ve always scared girls away.”

“Well, in my case—” Elizabeta chimed in proudly, “—I was more annoyed than scared. I punched him a few times back then!” She clasped her hands together like it was a fond memory, while her husband gave her a look of adoration before snorting and turning back to Gilbert.

“Apparently not enough, though,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly. “Because he clearly didn’t learn a thing.”

At that, Gilbert finally snapped out of his frozen, discombobulated state. He dragged a hand down his face, a gesture somewhere between irritation and sheer embarrassment. His brows furrowed as he glanced at the clearly entertained couple.

“Great reminiscing. Hilarious…” he muttered, his voice flat, utterly devoid of amusement. But with a sigh, he brushed it off and forced himself to focus. He was wasting time standing here when he should’ve been doing something useful… like finding Lovina.

“I need to go after her.” he said, his tone shifting from annoyed to genuinely concerned. “Have you seen where she went?”

That, surprisingly, made Roderich blink. For a second, it almost looked like he felt bad… until he rested his chin on one hand and smirked, that is…

“You need to go after her, huh? I suppose nearly scandalizing her in front of an entire ballroom is something worth apologizing for.”

Elizabeta nudged him lightly in the arm. “Don’t put it like that!” she scolded, though a twitch of amusement tugged at her lips. She tapped a finger to her chin in thought. “It wasn’t really a scandal... it was more like…” She paused, then brightened. “Aha! Kissing! Nearly kissing her!”

Roderich shrugged. “Might as well be the same thing.”

Gilbert’s face drained of color, like someone had just swapped the wine in his glass for water. His knees nearly gave out then and there. God, just let the floor open up and swallow me already… That thought swirled through his head as he staggered forward, face burning with a brutal mix of secondhand, and firsthand, shame.

“You—you saw that?!” he whisper-yelled, voice cracking with mortification.

Roderich and Elizabeta exchanged a knowing look. Then Roderich tilted his head slightly, completely deadpan.
“Gilbert,” he said, “again—we’re sitting in the one place designed to see everything that happens in this ballroom. You were in the center. You leaned in. Anyone with working eyes and half a brain saw it. Just—”

“I get it! I get it!” Gilbert blurted, waving his hands in a panicked attempt to shut it down. “Just—don’t talk about it.”

That seemed to work—Roderich did not finish the thought.

With that barely dodged, Gilbert let out a long, wounded sigh and slapped a hand to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut like he might wring a shred of peace from the moment…

Seeing him like this, for once, Roderich’s expression softened. Even Elizabeta’s teasing eased off, not that hers was ever particularly cruel. The Austrian sighed, brushing off the last of his amusement and finally offering something closer to sincerity.

“Gilbert,” he said gently now, his tone free of mockery, “I don’t know what to tell you… but it’s pretty clear you’ve taken quite a liking to the older Vargas girl.”

At those words, Gilbert’s eyes flew open. He stared at the couple in disbelief, like Roderich had just said the most shocking thing imaginable. Not because he was wrong—oh, no, he was absolutely right—but because now Roderich knew, too.

Not that the almost-kiss hadn’t already written his feelings in bold, flashing letters across the ballroom… and Roderich had seen that. Ugh, of course he knew. And Elizabeta definitely did, too. And Ludwig had known for over a week. Fantastic. Just fantastic. Everyone knew…

Roderich, for one, looked wholly unimpressed by Gilbert’s stunned expression.
“Don’t give me that look,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I know you. Plus…” He gestured vaguely with his hands, mimicking a slow lean-in. “It wasn’t exactly subtle. You were about to kiss her.”

Yep. That’s exactly what Gilbert had just been thinking. Great to have it confirmed by the “wise council”…

“And let’s not pretend this was the first time,” Roderich added, almost offhandedly. “I’ve seen how you act around her. Honestly, I’ve lost count of how many moments like that there’ve been already.” He met Gilbert’s stunned stare with a calm, matter-of-factly one. “So… there’s no use pretending you’re not completely head over heels. We all see it.”

(Well… maybe except for Lovina herself. She was probably on the same level of obliviousness as the albino standing here.)

Gilbert could only blink, jaw slightly slack. He had nothing to say, because, frankly, Roderich had already said it all.

But the brunet wasn’t finished. “Anyway, my point is…” he continued, his tone softening, “if you really like this girl, then stop acting like you're skating on thin ice every time she’s near. I’ve seen it too many times… even just now…” he added, more to himself than anything. “You don’t need to make excuses for how you feel. Just… let the feelings be what they are.”

He let out a small sigh, then glanced at Elizabeta, who gave him a nod of approval, clearly touched by his attempt at being heartfelt, before turning back to Gilbert, who still looked completely dumbstruck. Hopefully, he’d absorbed at least some of it…

With another breath, Roderich added, “Now, if you must really know, she went into the gardens.” He gestured toward the tall windows at the far end of the ballroom. “Left side. Not right.”

That finally seemed to snap Gilbert out of his stupor. He blinked, then turned his head, eyes locking on the garden entrance. “The gardens…” he echoed under his breath, already pivoting in that direction.

Roderich raised a brow. “Yeah… but hey, did you even hear anything I said before that?”

Gilbert paused, looked back with a curt nod that did not inspire confidence, and turned again, clearly distracted by the thought of Lovina outside.

“Right…” Roderich muttered, shaking his head. “Just go. Before she wanders off somewhere else and you lose her for the night.”

The Prussian didn’t need to be told twice. He was already moving, almost sprinting, toward the exit. But just before he slipped out of sight, Roderich called after him:
“And Gilbert!”

He stopped in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

Gilbert scowled, unimpressed. “Great way to end your speech…” he muttered, and then turned and took off again.

Behind him, Elizabeta raised a hand and called: “Good luck!”
(And yes, he heard it.)

Once the couple saw Gilbert slip out into the gardens, Elizabeta let out a long sigh and rested her chin in her hands. She turned to her husband with a thoughtful look, as if replaying everything that had just happened.

“…I actually feel a little bad for him,” she admitted. “If he’d just learn to see with those eyes of his, he’d save himself so much trouble. That girl likes him… seriously likes him. I don’t really see the appeal, but…” she shrugged. “He’s too oblivious, and too stupid, to realize it…”

She sighed again, heavier this time.

Roderich nodded, not disagreeing. “I doubt anything’s getting resolved tonight,” he said, folding his hands in his lap. “But… maybe he’ll get a bit wiser. Eventually.” He paused, then added dryly, “I just wouldn’t bet money on when exactly that’ll be.”

As he said this, his gaze drifted toward the dance floor, specifically to the younger of the two brothers, who was currently twirling the other Vargas sister with an easy smile.

“His brother, on the other hand,” Roderich added with a small, satisfied hum, “seems to be doing much better. And he’s the younger one…”

Elizabeta followed his gaze and chuckled. “Well, I’d expect something to come out of those two before the night ends. Don’t you?”

“Mhm,” Roderich hummed. “If only Ludwig would find the courage to actually talk to me about it…”

His wife laughed softly. “Seems both brothers have their own set of issues.”

The Austrian shook his head. “How are we even related? I was never like that with you. Or was I?”

Elizabeta tapped a finger to her chin, thinking for a moment, then laughed under her breath. “Well… I can certainly see how you’re related to them.”

.
.
.

Gilbert burst out of the ballroom and into the gardens, having sprinted through the crowd without drawing too much attention—thankfully, most guests were too busy chatting to notice his mad dash. But once outside, his sprint turned into a full-on run as he tried not to slip on the thin layer of ice hidden beneath the fresh snow.

He raced in the direction his cousin had pointed out, his mind still echoing with the man’s words: “You don’t need to make excuses for how you feel, just let the feelings be what they are.” Easier said than done, he thought to himself, especially when those feelings apparently scared Lovina enough to run from him.

Still, he pressed on, the cold barely registering as he scanned the gardens, calling her name, though he doubted she’d answer. She had run from him, after all…

As he pushed forward, his worry deepening with every step, he passed a narrow staircase that climbed toward the back of the palace grounds. Then, just at the edge of his vision, something caught his eye: a flash of red, vivid and out of place against the cold stone and white snow.

He skidded to a stop, nearly slipping on the ice, but caught himself just in time. Heart pounding, he backed up and turned toward the flash of red… and froze.

There she was.

“...Lovina!” he breathed, eyes locking on her where she sat curled up on the stone platform near the stairs, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

At the sound of her name, and that familiar voice, Lovina lifted her head. Her eyes met Gilbert’s just a few steps away, confusion flashing across her face, then shock, and finally, embarrassment.

“G-Gilbert?!” she blurted, blinking rapidly. She glanced around for a moment, as if needing to confirm that he was really standing there. When that fact settled in, she turned back to him, her face flushing, not too much, though. It was freezing, after all, and her body clearly had more pressing priorities than blushing. (Like keeping her warm.)

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. She narrowed her eyes slightly, furrowing her brows before blinking at him again and asking, with a mix of hesitation and confusion: “W-what are you… doing here?”

She kept rubbing her arms for warmth just as another gust of wind passed through, making her flinch. It was so cold she couldn’t even find the strength to overthink it, or wonder why he’d come all this way after her…

Gilbert gazed at her, and relief flooded him. The worst possibilities had been eating at him ever since she ran off, but seeing her now eased the tightness in his chest. He let out a shaky breath and stepped closer.

“I… I came after you…! I wanted to—” he began, but as he moved in, the relief gave way to a new concern. Lovina looked frozen to the bone, trembling like a leaf!

His expression shifted, worry settling deep into his features. He closed the remaining distance until he stood right in front of her, then hesitated briefly before asking: “Can I sit on your… dress?”

Lovina blinked at him, puzzled by the question, but gave a small nod. She was too cold to care, and frankly, the dress had already been dragged through snow and pressed against frozen stone… Gilbert sitting on it wasn’t going to make things worse.

At her wordless okay, he dropped to his knees beside her and reached out, placing his hands gently on her arms.

She flinched at the sudden warmth of his touch… he was radiating heat from running around, while she was ice-cold.

“You’re freezing…!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with alarm. The awkwardness that had tangled him up earlier disappeared entirely in the face of more urgent worry. His brows drew together, and without hesitation, he unclasped the front of his robe and wrapped it around her shoulders, making sure to cover her bare arms first.

Lovina’s eyes widened. Her face began to flush, really flush this time, and she quickly turned her head away, looking off to the side.

“What…” she mumbled, but the rest slipped away when she glanced back at him. His expression made her pause. Yes, he looked worried, but there was something else, too. He looked guilty.

He didn’t let go. His hands stayed where they were, holding the robe securely over her arms. That same guilt-ridden expression remained fixed on his face, and she felt the faintest pressure in his grip, tightening for just a moment before relaxing again.

“This isn’t a good place to be…” he muttered, sighing as a plume of mist escaped his lips into the frigid air. “You might get sick…” His face fell even further. A groan slipped out, frustrated and remorseful. “Agh… this is my fault…”

He looked at her then, and the guilt in his eyes made her stomach twist. He looked like a wounded animal.

“I’m sorry, Lovina. I shouldn’t have…” He trailed off, struggling to find the words. “Gott, I freaked you out. And because of me, you came out here into the cold… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I just… I should’ve kept my—”

“What?”

Her voice cut through his rambling, and he stopped mid-sentence. Blinking at her, caught off guard, he found her staring, eyes wide, cheeks still flushed from the cold and embarrassment, but above all… confused.

When he didn’t respond right away, just stood there with that same lost look, Lovina didn’t wait for him to start talking again.

“You did not freak me out!” she blurted, shaking her head.

That made the albino even more puzzled. “I… what?” he said, uncertain. “But you ran away… from me…”

Lovina groaned quietly and raised a hand to her face, covering her eyes for a moment. Just remembering that scene made her cheeks burn all over again… but she forced herself to push through it.

“Well… yes. I did. But only because you—” She broke off, her gaze darting to the side as her face turned an even deeper shade of red. “You…” She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself, and then turned back to him. “You confused me!”

Gilbert stared. “Confused… you?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes like she’d just spoken a different language. (Because in his mind, nothing about the situation had been confusing! Horribly mortifying, yes, but not confusing. He had, after all, almost kissed her. That wasn’t exactly subtle…)

Lovina nodded so hard her hair bounced. “Yes! Because I thought—!”

But she never finished that thought. The truth was just too embarrassing to admit, especially since she’d clearly misunderstood what the albino had meant to do… (She hadn’t. There was no misunderstanding. That had been his intention. Stop overthinking it, Lovina. God, who’s writing you like this? …Oh right. Me. Oops. Anyway—)

So she scrambled for a different explanation. “I thought of… something else. Than what was actually… real.” The phrasing wasn’t great, and she winced at her own words. “And I was embarrassed… that I thought of that… other thing… when really it was another thing entirely… so I came out here. For air. So I could stop being embarrassed… about the thing. That I thought.”

Oh no. That was worse. Lovina, what are you even saying?! Use your words! Properly!

But somehow, Gilbert looked like he was starting to understand. His brows knit together as he tried to piece it together out loud.

“You… thought of something else…?” he echoed. “Something else… like… about the dance? Or… what I did…?” He trailed off, clearly unwilling to say exactly what he’d done. (Probably because it was humiliating enough that he’d actually done it.)

At those words, Lovina tilted her head slightly, genuinely puzzled. Then she asked the question that practically made Gilbert’s brain pause.

“What… you did?”

“You… uh…” He blinked at her, wide-eyed, like she’d just asked him to explain something he didn’t understand. “You know…” he mumbled, suddenly unable to meet her eyes.

But it was clear she didn’t know. Not even a little.

“No…? What did you do?” she asked, brow furrowing.

And the thing was, she was being completely honest. Her brain was running in a totally different direction. Because in her mind, Gilbert leaning in that close during the dance had either been a) her imagination running wild, or b) some kind of formal Prussian-German dancing custom she’d never heard of. (It was possible. She was Italian. Maybe it was just… a weird northern thing?)

So now, hearing him suggest that he had done something… she wasn’t even thinking about that almost-kiss. She assumed he was referring to the dance, maybe excusing himself for having done it poorly or something like that… even though he hadn’t danced poorly at all. But with her feelings, her embarrassment, and the cold, there was absolutely zero logical reasoning left in her head… so, yeah.

Gilbert just stared at her in silence. Wait… he realized, she doesn’t even know what I’m talking about?! He’d been so sure she ran off because of that impulsive, almost-accidental, half-conscious lean-in… But apparently, she hadn’t even noticed. Or registered it. Or maybe she’d just misinterpreted the whole thing? Well, whatever the case, the Prussian now had two options to choose from…

Option one: do what Roderich (and every other sane person) would tell him to do, be honest, explain what he’d tried to do, and maybe… tell her how he felt.

Option two: take the out. Let the misunderstanding stand. Pretend nothing ever happened and keep things from getting awkward. Preserve the current dynamic and shove his feelings deep into his chest, at least until he somehow scraped together the right amount of bravery to actually say them out loud to her.

So, which option did Gilbert choose?

...Well, if you were thinking “obviously the first one”, then—

Wrong.

He chose option two.

Because when it came to love? Gilbert Beilschmidt was a complete and utter coward. (God damn it, Gilbert.)

“What I did?” Gilbert echoed, voice jumping an octave before he let out what could only be described as the most awkward laugh to ever grace the snowy air. “Pshhh… nothing! Nothing important! Just…” He trailed off, eyes darting around as his brain scrambled for an excuse that didn’t involve “nearly kissed you in front of a ballroom full of people.”

“Just… the dance!” he blurted. “Yeah! The dance!”

He cleared his throat and attempted to nod in a very convincing, I-am-a-normal-person kind of way. “I was, uh… really stiff. Definitely not my best performance. Totally tanked it. Real disaster. That’s… that’s what I did. That’s what I was apologizing for.” He forced out another dry laugh. “I, uh… sucked at dancing.”

(God help him.)

It sounded so dumb. Even he knew it sounded dumb. Especially since Lovina had mentioned, before they started dancing, that she was more embarrassed about being watched than anything else… Ah, why couldn’t he have used that as an excuse for his apology? But he was committed now. No turning back. Just keep digging the hole, Gilbert…

He hesitated, then added cautiously, “Or… um… what was that thing you said earlier? That you thought something else… but it wasn’t actually that… or… something?” He gestured vaguely with one hand, trying to mimic the total confusion she’d expressed earlier, while simultaneously hoping she wouldn’t see straight through him.

And at that, Lovina, flustered and mortified, took the exact same route Gilbert had just taken. In other words: denial, misdirection, and the desperate pursuit of saving face. (Honestly, Roderich had a point. Nothing was getting resolved tonight. Absolutely nothing.)

“What I thought?!” she echoed, like the very idea was outrageous, before letting out a laugh so awkward it made her want to disappear. She shook her head vigorously, too vigorously, like she was trying to physically shake the memory out of existence. “Ahaha—no, I—yes! That is… exactly what I meant too!”

She winced immediately after saying it, realizing how that sounded. “I mean… not that you’re a bad dancer!” she rushed to add, hands flailing slightly. “You were not! It’s just… the eyes. All the eyes on us, and the… stuff. Watching. You know…”

Her face was about three shades redder than before, and her nervous smile looked like it was being held together by nothing but prayers.

What was she saying? What was she saying?!

But Gilbert didn’t even care that she’d basically insulted his dancing skills, which, for the record, had not been bad during that dance… He was just relieved. Deeply, overwhelmingly relieved that she wasn’t upset with him. She hadn’t run off because she was angry or hurt or disgusted, no, she’d just been… embarrassed. Because of the crowd watching them, apparently. And his “bad” dancing. (Which, again, he hadn’t messed up. Not a single move. He’d done everything right. But hey, maybe he didn’t know enough about dancing to judge... Spoiler alert: he had not danced poorly.)

Still, knowing she hadn’t left because of him, or at least, not in the way he’d feared, it felt like a massive weight had been lifted from his chest.

“Right! Right, yeah—that’s exactly what I thought!” he exclaimed, nodding far too eagerly, the tension practically vanishing from his body. He looked at her like someone who’d just dodged a cannonball, all relief and gratitude.

Lovina, in turn, gave a small nod, equally relieved that he’d completely bought her absolutely ridiculous excuse. Thank God he hadn’t found out what she’d actually been thinking about during the end of their dance...

“So… you’re not upset with me… at all?” Gilbert asked, letting out a small breath in the cold air.

“What? Of course not!” Lovina exclaimed, turning to look at him with a shake of her head, as if the question itself was absurd.

Gilbert couldn’t help but break into a big smile at her answer. “I’m… so glad.” he said softly, his voice calmer now. Suddenly, he had the urge to hug her… but no hugs! he reminded himself, recalling his earlier lesson. Instead, he just leaned in slightly, eyes locked on hers with a warmth so clear that anyone watching might think: “Yeah, this guy really likes her.”

Unfortunately, the one person who should have noticed wasn’t catching on: Lovina. What she did notice was that he was still holding her arms, despite not needing to anymore, and as much as she didn’t mind, it was a little awkward…

Clearing her throat, she finally spoke up. “Uh… my arms… can I…”

“Uh? Oh… oh!” Gilbert blinked, suddenly aware he’d been holding her arms the whole time without realizing it. He quickly let go, raising his hands in an apologetic, “surrender” gesture beside his head. “Right, right… of course. Sorry.” He chuckled awkwardly, a sound Lovina found unexpectedly endearing.

With her arms now free, Lovina brought one hand up to clutch the robe near the clasp, as if trying to preserve what little warmth it offered. That simple motion seemed to snap Gilbert out of his daze, he’d been staring again, and suddenly, his eyes widened in alarm.

“You’re cold! It’s cold!” he exclaimed, the worry returning full force just after it had calmed.

“It doesn’t feel that cold anymore, I’m okay…!” Lovina tried to reassure him, tugging the robe a little tighter around herself. Between the borrowed warmth and the lingering embarrassment, she did feel warmer. “Thanks for your… robe.” she added, offering a small smile.

But Gilbert wasn’t convinced.

“Nope! No!” he said with a shake of his head, frowning. “That’s just the hypothermia talking.”

Before she could react, he brought his hand to her forehead. Lovina flinched slightly at the touch but didn’t pull away, trying her best not to look too flustered as he gently felt her skin.

“You’re still cold… it’s not normal!” he panicked, his voice climbing with concern. His eyes darted left and right, scanning the area until he spotted the side door leading into the palace, just up the stairs nearby. His expression lit up with sudden resolve.

Without warning, he shot to his feet like a jack-in-the-box, startling Lovina. “Let’s get you back inside!” he said urgently, already reaching to help her up before she could protest.

From where she sat, Lovina looked up at him as he extended a hand. She hesitated for only a second before taking it. Honestly, it was getting pretty cold out here, and she could really use some fire right about now…

Once she was on her feet, Gilbert guided her toward the base of the nearby staircase. “Wait here for a second.” he said, already halfway up. “I just need to check if the door’s open.”

Lovina blinked and raised a brow. “Uh… through the… gardeners’ door?” she asked, watching him fiddle with the handle.

“Yeah, there should be another door past this one that leads to a hallway, then straight into the main part of the palace.” he replied, jiggling the knob with increasing determination.

Lovina tilted her head slightly and reluctantly followed him up a few steps, pausing just behind the albino. “Can we not just… go back the way we came?” she asked, watching his continued battle with the door.

“It’s too far. And you’re in no condition to walk through that again,” he said, still focused on the lock. “It’s better this way… it’s warm inside. You’ll heat up faster…” Just then, the door gave a satisfying click. “Ah!” he let out, sounding genuinely triumphant as he swung the door open. He turned to her and gestured gallantly toward the darkened entryway. “Ladies first.”

Lovina’s lips pressed into a thin line, her brows furrowing slightly as she peered inside. There were no torches lit up… only darkness.

Still… she supposed she trusted Gilbert. So, she stepped forward, the albino following close behind. The only light came from the moon, seeping in through a narrow window and the open door that overlooked the gardens. Lovina squinted, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Shapes slowly emerged from the shadows: shovels, rakes, bags of soil stacked along the wall. Gardening tools. Right… that made sense.

She wrinkled her nose. She honestly couldn’t remember ever being in a place like this before… and she had a good memory. Which meant this was her first time. And frankly? She wasn’t a fan.

“It’s dark.” Lovina remarked flatly.

Gilbert stepped past her, carefully avoiding the tools scattered on the ground as he made his way toward another door at the back of the room.

“Yeah… but it’s fine, it’ll be bright once I—” He tried the handle. It didn’t budge. He frowned and jiggled it again.

Lovina raised an eyebrow. “It’s locked?”

“No… no, it’s just…” He tried once more, turning the knob left and right with increasing frustration. Eventually, he stepped back with a sigh of defeat. “Okay, yeah. It’s locked.”

For a moment, he looked like he might grow discouraged, but then his expression shifted, and he perked up. “Alright, change of plans! We’ll stay here just a bit, warm you up, and then go back the way we came.” He turned, already moving with new purpose.

The Italian girl watched him with curiosity. He was rooting through some nearby sacks, pulling out a few logs. She hadn’t even noticed the fireplace tucked into the wall until he began stacking the wood inside it. He then grabbed a small quartz ornament and a steel trowel from a nearby bench.

She blinked. What in the world is he…? she began to wonder, but the thought was cut short as sparks flew—Gilbert was striking the stone with the metal tool. On the third attempt, a few embers landed on the dry wood, and a small flame flickered to life. It caught quickly, casting a warm amber glow that lit up nearly the entire room.

Satisfied, Gilbert stood, shut the main door behind them to trap the heat, and turned to her.
“Alright, come on.” He gently took her forearms and guided her closer to the fire. “Stay here for a few minutes. You’ll feel better in no time.”

Lovina didn’t even question how he knew how to light a fire—this wasn’t exactly a lesson taught to royals—because the warmth was just too good. It felt so much better than being outside, where she’d nearly shivered her skin off. She crouched down closer to the flames and held out her hands, letting the heat slowly seep back into them.

Gilbert didn’t join her just yet. Instead, he made his way to the small window and pushed it shut more firmly to make sure none of the cold snuck in. “Once you’re warm, we can—” he began, but stopped mid-sentence. Out of the corner of his eye, through the frosty glass, he caught movement. Two figures running around the snowy garden in the distance. He squinted, leaning in slightly. Wait… was that—? No way. Ludwig?! And Feliciana?!

Gilbert blinked in disbelief. Yep, there was no mistaking it. His brother and the Italian girl were frolicking… yes, frolicking, in the snow. In the dark. Alone.

He stared blankly for a second longer, baffled. What were they even doing out there? Did Ludwig not care about propriety anymore?! (Which was rich, considering Gilbert himself was currently alone with a girl in a dim room behind a closed door. But that thought… conveniently didn’t cross his mind.)

Well, at least they were dressed for the weather, both wrapped up in proper winter cloaks. Still, what the hell was that about?

“Uh…” he muttered, eyes still on the scene for a second before finally shaking his head and deciding, nope, not his business. He’d question Ludwig about it later. Turning back toward the fireplace, he walked over and crouched beside Lovina. “So, yeah. We can leave once you feel warm enough.”

Lovina didn’t respond right away. She just stared into the fire, eyes half-lidded with a thoughtful expression, like she was turning something over in her mind. After a moment, she let out a small sigh and tucked her hands against her knees.

“I think I’ve had enough of the ball for tonight…” she finally admitted softly.

Upon hearing that, Gilbert turned his head toward her, surprise flickering across his face. “You… don’t want to go back?”

“It’s not that…” Lovina shrugged, as if she weren’t even sure what it was that bothered her, though, of course, she did know. “I suppose I’ve just missed so many balls that I’ve… lost the taste for them.” Then, with a half-smile tinged with sadness, she added, “Grandpa is probably scolding me from the afterlife for saying that…”

She meant it as a joke, but the sadness in her eyes made it hard for Gilbert to find humor in it. Instead, he simply looked at her with quiet sympathy. The only thing he could think to say was: “I’m sorry.”

Why is it that we apologize for things we’re not responsible for, for losses we could never have stopped? Gilbert pondered the strange habit, but what else could one say in moments like these?

Lovina sighed softly and didn’t look away from the flickering flames. “You don’t have to be. It happens…”

Gilbert winced a little. “It’s kind of hard not to be when you say it like that…”

A breathy scoff escaped her lips, meant to be amused, but it wasn’t quite. “Sorry…” she muttered, lowering her gaze to the cold stone floor beneath them.

“What? No, no, no! You don’t have to apologize for… talking about your grandfather! Really!”

“No, but… nobody wants to hear someone open up about sad things…”

“That’s totally not true! You can open up to me!” he said earnestly. “I’m willing to listen to anything you want to say!” To prove it, he sat down on the stone floor, trying to look serious, but how serious can you really be sitting in formalwear on the ground in a gardening room?

Still, Lovina found it strangely comforting… his genuine offer to listen. The embarrassment she’d felt before melted completely and that probed her to momentarily turn her gaze away from him, as if gathering her thoughts.

Seeing this, Gilbert worried she didn’t think he was serious enough. “No, really! I am serious!” He gestured toward himself with both hands for emphasis.

Lovina turned back with a weak smile. “Alright. I believe you.”

Gilbert was a little surprised by how quickly she changed her mind about opening up, but he didn’t complain. He simply nodded, resting his head on one hand, elbow propped on his knee, eyes fixed on her as the fire crackled in the fireplace, ready to listen.

Turning back toward the fire, the Italian girl fell silent for a moment. The glow danced in her eyes as she seemed to wrestle with her thoughts, weighing what to say, how much to share. She exhaled softly, then finally spoke.

“I don’t know if this will make sense… maybe it sounds stupid, but… the fire just now, and the ball… they reminded me of him.” (She meant her grandfather.)

The warmth of the flames brought back a familiar memory… how, even as a king, he loved baking bread like it was some kind of game. He’d often rope them into it, her and Feliciana. It had become a strange little family tradition. And the ball… well, that one didn’t need much explanation. Her grandfather had always adored his grand parties.

“It’s not stupid!” Gilbert said at once, his tone firm and earnest. He gave her a small nod, urging her to continue.

And Lovina did, but the topic she’d brought up appeared to be far more loaded than he’d expected. Her voice suddenly dropped, and she seemed even more hesitant to speak about it now.

“It’s been nearly a year since he… you know...” her voice was quiet, her gaze locked on the fire. “And I still think of him the same way I did back then...” Her lips pressed into a small pout before she confessed: “I don’t think I’ve accepted it. Not really. That he is… gone. That Italy doesn’t have a monarchy anymore. That he’s not… king.”

She took in a small breath, her eyes narrowing just a little, as though bracing for what she was about to admit. Then, she pressed on.

“Feliciana’s moved on,” she murmured. “All this time we’ve spent together, she’s been so happy. So… unbothered. Even today, before the ball, when I started feeling sad about Grandpa again, she just smiled and told me to… smile as well. Said he wouldn’t want me to be like this. She keeps talking about how we can still do good without crowns or titles… that Italy is in good hands…”

Lovina sighed softly, her frown deepening. And across from her, Gilbert felt his chest tighten.

“She’s trying so hard to grow up. To live in the present,” she said. “And I see that. I do. But I feel stuck. Like I’m still standing in the past… waiting for something that’s already over.”

Her voice faltered, and she fell silent for a moment. Gilbert stayed quiet too, eyes fixed on her, wanting to say something but not sure what would help. It felt like that night at the tavern, when she’d brought up her grandfather for the first time. He hadn’t known what to say then either. Nothing had felt right. But before he could try, Lovina spoke again, even more reluctantly this time.

“And I don’t only think of him because I miss him…” she uttered slowly.

That caught Gilbert’s attention. His brows drew together, confusion flickering across his face. If it wasn’t just about missing the old king… then what? Still, she answered him before he could ask.

“I keep thinking… I failed him. I failed Italy.”

Upon hearing those words, the albino’s expression shifted. That wasn’t something he’d expected to hear from her, especially not spoken with such conviction. But she looked serious… and not just serious, but almost pained by it, too. That made the Prussian frown slightly.

“I was supposed to take the throne,” she explained, her gaze dropping to her lap. “To keep things together. But Grandpa didn’t finish the right papers in time, and before long, the advisers started pushing a different plan…” She hesitated, biting her lower lip, before admitting, “…marriage to a foreign prince. Said it would save the kingdom.” Her hands curled slightly into fists on her knees, and her voice fell quiet.

“Feliciana didn’t have to think about it, she’s the younger one. But me? I should’ve said yes. I should’ve done it.” There was a pause, long enough that Gilbert thought she might stop there. But then she exhaled, and said quietly: “But I didn’t…”

And the way she said it, so pained, made the ache in the albino’s chest deepen…

“I didn’t want a loveless marriage. Just the idea of it scared me. Stupid me… wanted to marry for love. Dio...” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “That one stupid thing no one even expects anymore, because it’s so rare…” and she shook her head, her voice cracking slightly with the next words.
“And because of that… I said no. I didn’t even think about what that meant for the country. And then… the kingdom fell.”

“How stupid is that?” Lovina whispered. “I had a chance… I could’ve done something. And instead, I clung to a childish dream. I was supposed to help my people, as their princess… and I did nothing.”

Her hands rose slowly, hovering near her face, as if she couldn’t decide whether to hide or hold herself together. Her next words came shakily, but she said them anyway.

“I keep thinking about how disappointed Grandpa would be... how ashamed he’d be. I had one job… save the kingdom, and I threw it away…” She let out a small sigh before whispering, “I should’ve just shut my mouth and listened... why didn’t I just listen…”

And that was where she stopped, her words trailing off into silence. The small space between her and the Prussian King fell quiet, save for the gentle crackle of the fire…

Now, if one would have asked Gilbert whether he thought Lovina would only say that she still hadn’t come to terms with the loss of her grandfather, he would’ve believed it. Sure. That was one of the only melancholic topics he’d ever heard her speak about—either him or her sister. But if one would have asked whether there were other burdens on the girl’s heart, he wouldn’t have known what to say... She hadn’t spoken this way about anything else, not beyond what was already known.

So, it was rather shocking to hear her open up so suddenly about something he hadn’t even realized was bothering her… But how could it not? After all, her kingdom had been at stake. And like any true monarch, she had loved it… still did. Seeing it now divided between two foreign empires must have been a pain unfathomable to anyone who hadn’t suffered a similar fate.

But what broke him more than anything in her words was the way she blamed herself. The Prussian couldn’t help but feel a deep ache for her—the way she downgraded herself, saying she shouldn’t have wanted what any person in the world longs for: to be married for love, not for politics or dowry. She called herself selfish because of it, putting all that unnecessary pressure on her own shoulders. It was heartbreaking…

He’d always known she was burdened by her kingdom’s fall, but he hadn’t truly understood what that burden entailed, beyond the pain of being separated from her younger sister, until now... For nearly a year, ever since Italy was split, she had been holding this in. Blaming herself...

Had she even told anyone else? From the way she had hesitated to even tell him at first, he doubted it…

And sure, there was some truth in what she said. A marriage to a foreign sovereign might have stabilized her kingdom and spared it from collapse. But that’s as far as the truth went. To call herself selfish for not wanting a loveless marriage? That wasn’t selfishness. That was the bare minimum one would hope for in a lifetime commitment. Being tied to someone you couldn’t stand… what kind of life would that even be?

But she clearly wondered: What if? What if she had married some stranger and helped her kingdom that way? Yet, she was never truly obligated to do so in the first place… So why was she blaming herself? Why not, for instance—and he knew it was an insensitive thought—but why not blame her grandfather? The man had known he had no heirs, with neither of his granddaughters married. Why hadn’t he written the appropriate papers sooner, so his eldest granddaughter could inherit the throne? He could’ve done so at any point in his life, not when illness had already taken hold.

That had been irresponsible, hadn’t it?

Gilbert had heard that the King was a man who loved his parties and cared for his people and family. But when it came to politics, he apparently slacked off, leaving the work to his advisers and signing whatever papers they put in front of him. While his people had been happy… well, whatever, that wasn’t really the point. (Gilbert might have said more about the late King of Italy, but that would have distracted him from the main issue at hand… Lovina.)

The point was: Lovina shouldn’t blame herself. Because, like her, there had been others with the power to save the kingdom (cough… cough… her grandfather), and they had done nothing. In other words, it really wasn’t her fault. And she certainly wasn’t selfish for wanting love, too! It was cruel and unfair that she’d burdened herself with such thoughts…

Suddenly, Gilbert felt a strong urge to say it aloud. Hearing her tear herself down like this, uttering such harsh things about herself, was unbearable. And, as he’d said many times before, she wasn’t meant to carry this kind of pain. She deserved to be happy. He had thought that bringing her here, to see her sister, had finally eased the dread that had clouded her features back in the Spanish lands… but apparently, he had been wrong.

Well… no more of that. He would ease her mind now. He would say something, unlike at that tavern. It wasn’t right for her to think such things about herself when none of it was true. She wasn’t selfish, nor was she a failure. In fact, she was the opposite! And Gilbert was determined to make sure she knew it.

“You’re wrong!” he finally let out in a serious tone.

At that, the girl slowly moved her hands away from her face and turned slightly toward him, a shocked look plastered across her expression. She furrowed her brows and tilted her head, as if not understanding, or better yet, not being able to comprehend what he meant.

“What…?” she asked in a hushed voice.

And that was when Gilbert straightened up and gave a firm nod. “Mhm!” he mumbled, before going on to explain, “You’re wrong… because from what you told me, none of this is your fault. You didn’t cause the fall of any kingdom!” He said it with certainty, clearly seeing things very differently than Lovina did.

Her eyes widened at his words. She looked at him, almost dumbfounded. But Gilbert didn’t stop there. He pressed on, standing by what he believed.
“That was political instability and outdated social constructs at work… I mean, if women could inherit the throne as easily as men, there wouldn’t have been a problem to begin with! But society’s still stuck in the past, still clinging to old ideals…”

He let out a small sigh, clearly not fond of the very ideals he’d just voiced, but it was the sincerity in his tone that caught Lovina off guard. She stared at him in disbelief, still trying to process the fact that he was actually insisting, genuinely, that none of it was her fault. And worse, he seemed ready to name everything else that might be to blame, anything but her…

Then, suddenly, Gilbert looked at her again. The sharp determination in his expression eased into something gentler. His brows pulled together, a faint frown settling in as his voice dropped to a quieter register.

“I don’t know what kind of image you’ve had of yourself since that day, Lovina… but trust me when I say this… it’s not your fault.”

And he said it with such honesty… so plainly, so genuinely… that it was obvious he meant every word. Especially those last ones…

“It’s not your fault.”

Lovina still couldn’t find her voice. She just continued to stare at him, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief. But even without a response, Gilbert didn’t stop. He still had more to say, still needed to prove to her that she wasn’t the one to blame. So he pressed on.

“You don’t have to blame yourself for this… just like you don’t have to think you’re selfish for wanting something everyone deserves. If anyone’s to blame, it’s this stupid system we’ve got!” He added a small, annoyed scowl for emphasis, really leaning into just how much he did not like it… (the system, that is). (What a feminist!)

“My point is… it really isn’t your fault. And I can give you an example.” He leaned in slightly. “Just like your grandfather didn’t sign those documents, you didn’t choose to be married off. And is he to blame for not doing what he could’ve done at any point in his life? Not just then. Any time. He could’ve acted.”

Of course, especially at a question like that, Lovina didn’t answer. She looked down instead, turning his words over in her mind. When she finally glanced back up, she still said nothing. So Gilbert continued, speaking for her, just this once. Because her silence said it clearly enough.

“Of course not. And that means, just as he’s not to blame for what he didn’t do, you’re not to blame for the choice you made.” He pointed toward her with both hands. “And hey!” he added, his voice rising a little bit. “I don’t think your grandfather would’ve been ashamed or disappointed if he knew. No way!” He even shook his head for emphasis. “He’d have wanted his granddaughter to be happy, not stuck in some loveless marriage just to keep up appearances…”

“And Lovina… there’s no guarantee Italy won’t unify again someday. Just because it’s part of two empires now doesn’t mean it’ll never be what it once was. A change in law, a mutual agreement… who knows? Maybe in ten years. Maybe twenty. Maybe a hundred. We just don’t know.”

His eyes drifted toward the fireplace for a brief moment, then returned to her, softer now, with a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“But even setting that aside… I think it’s incredible how much you care. Really.” He paused, then added gently, “Just don’t let that care turn into something that hurts you. Because once it does, it stops being care… it becomes a burden.”

Then, he inched even closer, his gaze growing more intense.

“Don’t blame yourself for what happened just because the monarchy system is broken. It’s not your fault. Honestly? I think it’s kind of selfless, how you’re so quick to take all the blame… when in reality, there are so many other things at play…” He paused, his expression turning thoughtful, then gave a small shake of his head. “But beating yourself up over it?” He let the question hang, then added with a half-smile, “Not so awesome.” His smile widened a little more as he tilted his head, eyes still on her. “So don’t. Because from everything I’ve seen? You’re a pretty awesome girl, Lovina.”

A brief silence settled over the room as he finished speaking. The only sound came from the occasional crackle of the fire. In that quiet, Lovina’s thoughts raced. What Gilbert had just said nearly pierced her heart! Not just his final words, but all of them. He had spoken with such conviction, so certain of every word, and yet it was still hard for her to believe he truly saw her in such a kind, hopeful light. But he did…

She had done nothing to save her kingdom… she knew that. Yet he didn’t see it that way. He made that perfectly clear. And he believed in his words so deeply that, despite everything, part of her wanted to believe them too.

All this time, she had carried a gnawing guilt that whispered it was her fault, that she had failed her kingdom. She had never spoken it aloud, afraid someone might agree. That yes, she should have done more. That yes, the fall of her homeland rested on her shoulders. So she kept it buried, tucked away in the darkest corners of her mind. The guilt, the selfishness she believed lived inside her, cut so deeply, it defied words…

And yet... to hear it from Gilbert, of all people, that he didn’t see her that way, that he didn’t blame her, that he didn’t think her selfish for choosing to reject a loveless marriage for the sake of the crown, it soothed something inside her that nothing else had touched in months…

The comfort it brought was so sudden, so overwhelming, it broke through everything she had kept locked away. She didn’t even realize it at first… but soon enough, she was sobbing.

Almost immediately when Gilbert heard her cries, he went into full-on panic mode (again, for the third time that night), thinking he’d somehow said something out of line. He quickly began to apologize and tried to remedy the situation.

“Ah! I’m sorry! I… I didn’t mean to make you cry! Please don’t cry! Man, I thought what I said was genuine… Did I upset you?” he stammered, frantically trying to make her stop weeping. He didn’t even know where to put his hands… her forearm? Her shoulder? Anywhere at all? What if touching her only made things worse?

But as he watched her, something shifted. Those weren’t the tears of someone who was hurt… they were the tears of someone relieved. And how did he know that? Well… because, without a second thought for propriety or embarrassment, Lovina suddenly turned toward him and, to the Prussian’s great shock, threw her arms around him in a hug.

Gilbert stared at her in surprise, overwhelmed by a rush of emotions at the sudden embrace. But those feelings quickly gave way to what truly mattered. Now wasn’t the time to bask in the warmth of her embrace, no matter how secretly thrilled he was, it was the time to comfort her. And that’s exactly what he did.

Gently, he raised one hand to the back of her head while the other wrapped around her. He held her close as she continued to sob quietly against him.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later, once her tears had slowed, that she seemed to realize the position they were in. She pulled back quickly, and he let her go without protest, even if he had really loved holding her that close. She cleared her throat and looked in the opposite direction, a bit flustered.

“I ruined my makeup…” she suddenly confessed, carefully beginning to rub at her eyes, as if trying to fix the mess it probably was by now.

Gilbert was relieved to see she wasn’t crying anymore, but he was also a little amused by her sudden concern after everything she had just shared with him.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” he asked. Then, gesturing with one hand, he said, “Let me see…!”

Lovina shook her head at first, claiming she looked like a mess. But when Gilbert insisted that wasn’t true and softly asked again if he could see, she finally gave a courteous nod and slowly turned to face him.

And true, perhaps there were a few smudges here and there from the tears, but Gilbert saw right past them. To him, she would always be beautiful.

Almost unconsciously, he brought a hand to her face and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was strange, maybe it was the conversation they’d just had, or something else entirely, but he wasn’t panicking inside like before. Sure, his heart was beating faster, but it felt steadier now… more comfortable.

His hand lingered a moment too long on the side of her face, and with a small smile, he whispered: “I think you still look beautiful.”

The girl stared at him for a moment longer before turning her head away, flushing in silence as she looked in the opposite direction.

“That is a lie…” she mumbled, still blushing.

“No, I’m serious!” the Prussian insisted with a small chuckle. She puffed her cheeks in response but did seem a little amused by his words, too.

A short silence followed, with Lovina seeming to think deeply about something. Then, suddenly, she turned back to him with a sincere expression and said: “Thank you, Gilbert.”

The man practically melted at the sincerity in her eyes but quickly snapped out of it, offering a flustered, “Oh, it’s no problem, really!” followed by a small laugh.

But apparently, that wasn’t what the girl had meant.

“Well, yes, thank you for now too… but I meant, thank you in general.”

“In general?” the Prussian echoed, a little confused.

Lovina gave a small nod. “Yeah… you’ve done a lot for me since we met. You didn’t have to, no one expected you to, but you still did. You got me here… you wrote me those letters, in Italian, no less… and honestly, you’ve made me happier. I was pretty somber before I met you, you know? But these past two months have been different. Better. Because of you. I’m really glad I met you, Gil. So… thank you. For everything.”

And then, she smiled at him, genuinely.

And you know how weak this man was for her smiles! And she’d even called him Gil! A double hit! He didn’t even need to think, his answer practically jumped out of him.

“I… uh, I did it because… I wanted to!” he blurted out, rubbing the back of his neck. “You… have a pretty smile. It’s way better seeing you smile than all pouty and gloomy…” He smiled back at her, his grin a bit too enthusiastic, and admittedly, kind of corny.

Then, as the words sank in, something lit up in his mind. “Oh, I know!” he exclaimed suddenly. “From now on, I won’t let you be sad ever again! I promise!” He pointed at himself for emphasis, fully committed to his vow.

Lovina blinked, and then her expression turned a bit skeptical and amused. “You know people can’t be happy all the time, right?”

“But they also can’t be sad all the time!” was his immediate counter.

“Okay…” she said, not quite sure how to argue with that, and let out a small, entertained scoff under her breath. Then, clearing her throat, she added: “Well, will his highness be able to keep his promise?”

“You bet his—I mean, I will be able to keep my promise!”

“Well, I suppose I have no choice but to believe you… though I am still skeptical.”

“Don’t be!” Gilbert said with confidence.

Lovina snorted softly, then turned back to the fireplace, watching the flames for a short moment.

“Hm…” she murmured. “…Maybe I haven’t had enough of the ball for tonight after all…”

That made the albino gape at her in surprise. “You want to go back?”

“Well, it’s not like I can completely ditch,” she admitted. “If my people notice I’m missing, they might get suspicious… and the Emperor wanted this ball to go well, not stir up trouble. So I should probably head back.”

She had a very valid point.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Gilbert said, considering their situation. “People might start wondering where I went too…” Then, suddenly, he stood up, dusted off his hands, and held one out to her. “Well then, let’s go!”

Lovina took his hand, and he helped her up.

“Though… I should probably find my handmaid first and ask her to touch up my appearance, because I look orribile…” (horrible) she muttered, watching as Gilbert walked over to a small open-lidded barrel and used the liquid inside to extinguish the fire in the fireplace.

Then he returned to fiddling with the handle of the door, the one that seemed to lead back into the actual palace. Lovina raised an eyebrow. “Are you still trying that door? Isn’t it…” she began to say “locked”, but never got the chance.

The Prussian suddenly took a few steps back, rushed forward, and slammed into the door shoulder-first. To her surprise, it actually opened with a loud crack, and she could’ve sworn she heard some bits fall to the ground.

“…Oh.” was all she managed, staring into the torch-lit hallway beyond the now-open door.

“I managed to unlock it! Aha!” Gilbert declared triumphantly, rubbing the shoulder he’d so graciously used to “unlock” the door with. He gestured for her to follow. “Come on!”

She did, of course, but couldn’t help commenting with an amused tone. “With your shoulder…”

“It’s fine! It won’t hurt Roderich… as long as he doesn’t know!” he said, waving a dismissive hand.

She didn’t look impressed. “That you broke the lock to one of his palace doors?”

“Well… when you put it like that…”

“Maybe I over-complimented you just now…” she sighed mockingly.

“What?! I thought it was pretty fitting!”

“Yup. Totally did.”