Franz- Kugelmugel

…

I've never written a fic with aushun as the main pairing before, only as a side pairing, and that's very upsetting for me because aushun is amazing.

This started out as a means of annoying ChocolateTurnip, but kinda developed into an au I found myself investing a lot of time and research into. Supposed to be a one-shot, but it kinda got long, so now it'll be a few chapters so we don't have a repeat of 'Guide me through the squall', which was insanely long. Still proud of it though :D. Same with this.

So this is set in the Edwardian era, and those who know me probably know what that means, if not, then you'll soon find out. This story follows Austria, Hungary, Kugelmugel, Romania, Bulgaria and Moldova, with robul as a side pairing. Warning for character death.

...

Érzsebét Edelstein wasn't sure if she was alive or dead at this point.

She just sat slumped in the crowded lifeboat, surrounded by similar, shattered souls. She ignored the morning light and the freezing air. She ignored the gentle rocking of the calm sea and the icebergs glistening around her. She ignored the other passengers who wailed or shivered or sat in miserable silence. She ignored one young man who asked her is she was alright. If she was alive.

She didn't know that herself.

She must have been alive though, because they didn't throw her overboard.

If she was dead she wouldn't be remembering how her son was ripped from her arms as the sea dragged them down. How she lost sight of her terrified husband among the others struggling to swim from the wreckage. As her head was filled with the screams and agonised cries of a thousand people dying slowly in icy waters.

She was alive and she hated the very thought.

…

14th April 1911, one year ago

…

Érzsebét sighed in relief as she trudged through the door, wiping dirt from her face before smiling warmly at her son as he stumbled over to hug her. Just before he reached his mother, he tripped over his feet and would've hit the floor, had she not caught him.

"Careful there, Franz," she murmured, "you'll do yourself an injury."

"I'm sorry, Mama," he replied. Érzsebét glanced up at her husband, who stared miserably at Franz from his bed. She knew what he was thinking, and refused to let such a thought invade her mind too.

"He just tripped," she hissed.

"That's how I started," he glared down at his arms and she sighed, running a hand through Franz's long hair, which tumbled down his back. The child refused to let it be cut, and neither parent really had the time or will to argue with him on that.

"Is there any supper left for me?" Érzsebét asked Franz, who nodded and stumbled over to a pot of stew boiling over the fire. She'd left it cooking slowly all day, so by now it would be just perfect. She picked up a wooden bowl and spooned some in for herself, taking in the warmth it offered and the smell of cooked vegetables. They could rarely afford meat.

Érzsebét wandered over to the bed whilst Franz played quietly on the floor with a set of crudely made wooden animals. She sat by her husband's waist, bowl balanced on her knees. Roderich gazed at her thoughtfully whilst she ate.

"Good day at work, dear?" he asked, curious.

She shrugged. "Long, as usual. Missed my boys."

"We missed you too."

Érzsebét glanced up at her husband, who smiled back warmly. He was wrapped up under a small pile of blankets, in the thin, frayed nightshirt he always wore. His brunet hair shone in the firelight, matted and unwashed. He was pale and thin from years cooped up inside, bedridden, with bags under his large eyes. Wire glasses hung from his nose and he had the tiniest mole on his chin, and Érzsebét thought he was beautiful. His smile was bright; it always was when he looked at Érzsebét.

Roderich had been sickly since childhood. Even as a small boy he had trouble moving his arms and neck, and things only got worse as he aged. By ten he was often tripping over himself, and couldn't raise his arms above his head. If his family could've afforded a house with stairs, he wouldn't have been able to climb them. It was impossible for him to straighten his arms, and he was too weak to lift heavy objects, thus couldn't become a labourer, like his brothers and father.

He'd been abandoned in his teen years; his parents simply couldn't afford to keep him so he'd been left to die in the gutter. He couldn't even sit up to beg- though he was too proud to do such a thing anyway- and walking was a luxury long gone for him. Roderich had assumed he'd die there, had Érzsebét not found him.

She'd been walking home from work, after a long day in the mines, and in the evening gloom had almost not seen him. But when she did, she'd stopped. She still wasn't sure why, but was glad that she had. She was also glad that she'd sat down next to him and struck up a conversation.

Although he was reluctant to talk to what he took to be a loud, strange boy, and she thought him to be a bit of a brat, they'd struck up the beginnings of a friendship, and she agreed to let him stay with her, in exchange for his cooking. The slightly older girl had long moved out of her family home, and had a tiny, one-roomed cottage on the edge of town, peaceful and out of the way. As she carried him home, Érzsebét confessed to Roderich that she would be glad of some company for once.

She had a home but no one to share it with, and he needed a place to stay and someone to look after him. It was a perfect match.

Of course, as Roderich's health worsened over the years, he could no longer keep up his end of the deal, but by then she was too in love with him to care.

"How's your health?" she asked, glaring at her bowl.

"Same as usual," he sighed, "my heart feels funny though."

"What do you mean?" Érzsebét glanced up, frowning.

"It's weak and pitter-pattery," he winced, "it's been like that on and off all day. It's as if it'll explode if I have too much excitement."

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing," she took his hand in hers, rubbing the soft skin gently with her thumb. Érzsebét tried to give her husband a reassuring smile, but he just shook his head.

"I fear I might not be alive for much longer."

"Don't say that! You're twenty three! You have plenty of time!" She glared at Roderich fiercely, leaning forward to brush a lock of hair out of his face.

"Érzsebét, please," he hissed, "we have no idea what's wrong with me, and if we could afford a doctor I doubt he'd know either. I'm just getting worse and worse."

"You're not going anywhere, you hear me? You belong here with me and Franz!"

Roderich didn't answer immediately, and just stared at the fire with a miserable expression.

"But," he began eventually, "what sort of husband am I to you even? What sort of father? A bad one, that's what! I can't do any of the things I should be doing for you two, and I'm sorry. You have to spend all day in that mine to keep me alive because I can't work for myself. It's not right."

"Now you listen to me, Roderich Edelstein," she growled, placing a hand under his chin and lifting his face up, glaring into his watery eyes, "I love you. I always have and always will until my last breath. That's what marriage is about, not any of those other things!"

"But-!"

"And Roddy," she added, "I work because I want to. With or without you, ill or healthy, I will always be working. It's not because you can't, it's because I can and want to, got it?"

"Yes dear," he gave a small smile.

"Besides, someone has to stay and look after Franz."

"I think it's safe to say Franz is the one looking after me," Roderich pointed out, glancing over at the five year old.

"You look after each other when I'm not here, and I thank you both for that," Érzsebét placed a kiss on her husband's forehead as Franz toddled over upon hearing his name. She picked the child up, smothering his cheeks and forehead with kisses as he giggled, then tucked him in the bed next to his father.

"Go to sleep," she told him before standing up and removing her flat cap, letting her long, chestnut hair tumble down her back. She threw the hat onto a wooden stool, which was quickly followed by her sooty waistcoat. Érzsebét pulled off her old, worn boots and set them down by the door before walking over to a tiny pail of water to wash her face and arms.

Érzsebét had been disguising herself as a boy for years now, ever since she was old enough to work. It was the only way she was allowed in the mines to dig. She was good at it by now, and everyone in the town believed she was a handsome but secretive young man by the name of Boldizsár Héderváry who lived by himself, since Roderich never left his bed and Franz only ever went outside into the back garden. It meant that Érzsebét could still take a husband- after marrying him in secret- and keep up her much needed male masquerade.

After washing, she also squeezed into their tiny bed, kissing Franz on her forehead and Roderich on the lips.

"You're perfect and I love you," she whispered before falling asleep.

…

Érzsebét still refused to talk to anyone. Even as the lifeboat made its way to the hulking form of the Carpathia- the rescue ship- she didn't look up or acknowledge the other passengers.

They were alive. They had to be, for her! There had been so many other boats dotted about that at least one would've found them. She refused to give up hope. All the lifeboats would've gone back to pick up those in the water, like No. 12 had done for her and the others huddled together on the upturned collapsible lifeboat. Roderich and Franz were probably plucked out of the water somewhere else.

Érzsebét allowed herself a smile at the thought.

They would be together again soon.

…

Three months ago

…

She hadn't meant to startle Franz, but as she angrily threw the front door open and slammed it shut behind her, the child jumped, bursting into tears.

"No baby I'm so sorry," she cooed, picking him up as he wailed and holding him close. "Mama's just upset."

"What's wrong?" Roderich asked, glancing up from his sewing fearfully. He pushed the shirt he was darning to one side and patted the space next to him. Érzsebét wandered over to the bed slowly- dragging her feet- and sat down at the end, still holding Franz.

"I'm so sorry…" she began, before a lump formed in her throat and she blinked back tears.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Roderich rested his hand on her's, leaning as close as his wasted muscles would allow.

"I… oh God…"

"You can tell us…"

"I've lost my job," she whispered.

"Daddy!" cried Franz, gaping at Roderich in horror as he broke into a sweat, breathing becoming quick and deep in the few seconds before he lost consciousness.

…

When Roderich opened his eyes again, the blurriness and ringing in his ears was gone and his vision was filled by his wife's concerned face.

"What…"

"You fainted, I think," she explained; "poor Franz thought you were in serious trouble." Franz nodded slowly, still wrapped in his mother's arms.

"I see." Roderich still felt disorientated from his fainting spell, and his head swam. "How long was I out?"

"Half a minute at the most." Érzsebét set Franz down on the bed and he crawled over, wrapping his tiny arms around his father's neck and sniffing.

"Oh," Roderich tried to lift his arms to hug his son back, but found he couldn't. His muscles refused to work, and he didn't have the strength to use them. His head still swam. He licked his lips nervously, glaring at his arms and willing them to move. "Do you think I'm getting worse?"

"Maybe, but I think it's more to do with what I told you just before, well, you know."

"What did you tell me? I can't remember."

"I've lost my job," Érzsebét grimaced.

"No, it can't be," Roderich pulled a face, "but you're one of the best!"

"I'm not that good," Érzsebét admitted; "they let a whole bunch of us go. Something about saving money."

"That's disgusting!"

"That's life."

"But what… what do we do now?" his bottom lip quivered.

"I honestly don't know. Rent's due in a few days, and that'll take most of what we have left. If I don't find a job soon after that we'll be thrown out. Or starve."

Roderich knew he'd not survive that. Although the winter had been mild this year, he was in no condition to be sleeping rough again, amongst mud and filth and rats. And he certainly didn't want to see Érzsebét and Franz go through that either. He'd give anything to make sure they didn't, even his very life.

The worst part was there was nothing he himself could do to stop it. Roderich couldn't go out and get himself a job; the only thing he could do was sew, but since no one knew he was here, he couldn't start a job in that area either. Besides, everyone could sew their own clothes so he probably wouldn't make any money that way either. Their future was completely dependent on Érzsebét's ability to find a new job, and fast.

He truly was useless.

"I'll start looking for somewhere else to work, simple as that," Érzsebét shrugged; "there's got to be somewhere, right?"

Roderich wanted to tell her he was sorry, for everything, but couldn't bring himself to. Now was not the time to bring up his own problems when Érzsebét was hurting.

"It's okay," she gazed over at him, as if she could read his mind, "don't go blaming yourself. These things happen and you can never predict them."

"I just feel so inadequate though," he admitted, despite himself, "you've always worked so hard for us and I couldn't possibly have a hope of ever repaying you, even if I lived for a thousand years."

"You don't need to repay me for anything," Érzsebét leaned forward and placed a soft, quick kiss on his nose, "I love you unconditionally. Besides, the fact that you are here in my life is enough. You've been with me all these years. You gave me a son that I adore! You're my best friend and true love, and I'm so happy you're here."

Roderich smiled weakly; "thank you, and I'm sorry. It was selfish to think of my own problems at a time like this. I love you too, and I'm sure that together we can find a way out of this."

"It wasn't selfish, I can assure you. I worry about you too, but please don't blame yourself for things out of your control."

"I'll try."

…

The first passengers were beginning to climb up the rope ladder thrown down to them, some struggling more than others due to the frostbite in their hands and feet. Érzsebét tried to quell the shaking in her arms and legs as she awaited her turn.

This was it. This was where she'd finally be reunited with her family.

…

"I've got it!" Érzsebét burst into her house, running over to Franz- who was playing quietly by the fire- and lifting him up, spinning around and around as she shouted 'I've got it!' over and over. The child squealed in delight as he was thrown lightly in the air only to be caught again by his mother's strong arms.

"Got what?" Roderich sat up in the bed, peering over hopefully, "a job?"

"Not quite," Érzsebét admitted, sitting down next to him, "but I have an idea for something better."

"Go on," Roderich's lips twitched upwards.

"America!" Érzsebét grinned widely at them both.

"I'm sorry?"

"We go to America!"

Roderich gaped at her, mouth open and eyes wide. Even Franz was staring at Érzsebét in confusion.

"I'm not sure I fully understand."

"Look," Érzsebét rolled her eyes, "what exactly is left for us in Austria-Hungary? No jobs, no hope, no future! Bad things are coming and I can feel it. I hear stories of wars in the Balkans, just on our doorstep, and people say war will be starting here soon. I don't want to be around when the fighting starts. I want you both safe and far away from danger!"

"You can't always believe idle gossip."

"It's not just that. If we moved to America, we'd have so many more opportunities than we do now. Franz could go to school and learn to read and write! The first one in the family! I could find a better-paying job. We might even be able to get you a doctor."

"But, America? It's so far away!"

"We can get a ship from France," Érzsebét grinned, "I've asked around and they have ships that leave from Cherbourg to New York, and Halifax in Canada. Imagine it! New York!"

"The journey would kill me!" Roderich clutched his blankets, trying to keep his breathing at a normal pace. He was terrified of doing something to upset his heart, which had been acting odd far more frequently than normal. Sometimes it beat so fast it almost hurt, even when he was lying in bed doing nothing.

"It won't, I promise," Érzsebét looked down thoughtfully, "technology's changing. People can travel in more comfort nowadays, even people like us. No more coffin ships for our lot! Who knows, maybe a fresh start will improve your health!"

"But I can't even stand up, let alone travel halfway across Europe then across an ocean!"

"Then I'll carry you!" Érzsebét grinned; "it'll be no problem! Then we can find seats for you on the trains and coaches, and you can stay in a cabin on the ship, nice and warm and safe."

"I don't know, it sounds so risky."

"Sometimes it's worth taking a risk." Érzsebét stroked Franz's hair; "I bet in America I could find a job that pays well, even enough to buy you a wheelchair. Imagine that! We could go for family days out, all of us. We could go to parks and shops and visit friends."

"It sounds lovely," Roderich admitted, "but what about cost?"

"If we leave tomorrow," Érzsebét began slowly, "early in the morning, we'd be out of here before the landlord came to collect the rent. That would give us more money, and save us waiting around pondering it. We can pack and make plans tonight."

"People might find it odd though, a woman carrying her invalid husband around like a sack of flour."

"Not if I travelled as Boldizsár Héderváry, a young man emigrating with his sickly cousin and nephew," Érzsebét stood up, picking up an old duffle bag lying in the corner and filling it with their few possessions.

"What do you think, Franz?" Roderich turned to his son; "do you want to go to America?"

"Will I go to school there?" Franz asked hopefully.

"Of course!"

"Then yes! We must go! Oh please Vati! Please!"

Roderich sighed, though he couldn't conceal a smile; "fine, we're going to America."

…

The next morning, Érzsebét stuffed her hair under her hat, swung the duffle bag onto her shoulder, and gently lifted up Roderich, who had a thick coat and boots thrown on over his nightshirt and trousers. A knitted hat kept his head warm. Franz pulled a smaller bag of his own possessions onto his back, wrapped up in several layers of clothes, nearly every item he owned. Érzsebét looked around once more, to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything, then the trio stepped outside.

It was a chilly morning, the grass outside their cottage covered in frost and the air had an icy bite to it. The sun hadn't risen yet, the sky a faint grey colour. No one else was about. Perfect.

Érzsebét set her husband down on a nearby tree trunk and closed the front door one last time before picking him back up. Roderich was now hanging from her back, arms around her neck whilst she held him by his thighs.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you," he replied, letting out a laugh; "I can't believe we're doing this though!"

"Well you better believe it, or you'll get a bit of a shock when we land in New York."

From the house opposite them, a middle-aged lady emerged, catching sight of the trio making their way down the garden path and frowning in confusion.

"Morning, Mrs Csonka," Érzsebét called, and Franz gave a wave. "Just taking my poorly cousin for a walk. Be back this afternoon!"

"Morning Boldizsár," Mrs Csonka called back weakly before going back into her house, quite forgetting what she'd come out for.

"She'll tell everyone," Roderich commented, "I remember her from when I was a kid. That's woman's a right gossip."

"Best we get out of here now," Érzsebét giggled before the pair burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" asked Franz, who'd wandered ahead.

"Oh nothing," Érzsebét replied airily; "all this freedom must be getting to us, I guess."