This is one of several smaller stories about WWII, all of which are designed to help build some backstory for DITR and Oko za Oko. You can see my profile for which order they go in, although you can read this by itself and it will make sense.

Some background:
During WWII, Austria and Hungary were very much in love and lived in the Nazi Nation Estate with Germany and Prussia. At first they tolerated the principles of the Third Reich, but after seeing what became of Poland, Hungary was horrified and got involved in Resistance. She wanted Austria to participate, but he refused on grounds that it was too risky. Eventually Germany realized she was involved in Resistance, and so he ordered her to join him and Prussia for the invasion of the Soviet Union. Both Austria and Poland were devastated, knowing that the invasion was very dangerous and that she might not return. Right before she left, Austria caught Poland kissing her in the hallway. He was furious and accused her of cheating on him, but she accused him of being a coward and not standing up for what was right. Germany had to break up the fight, and right afterwards they left for the Eastern Front. Now the war is over, and Austria is writing to her in hopes that he can restore their broken relationship.

(Edit: To match the story to Око за Око and correct the historical mistake that Hungary was NOT a part of the Soviet Union but later became a Satellite State.)

Historical notes will be at the bottom. I hope you enjoy!

August 20, 1945

My Dearest Elizaveta,

I write to you this letter in ink knowing that if I were to do so in pencil I would erase every word ten times over in trying to portray to you all that I have to say. I also know that Communist officials will be reviewing my letter before it is passed onto you, and I am loath to expose my innermost thoughts to a complete stranger – however I am willing to do so if not to mend the wound that has formed between us.

I begin with a sincere apology – not only to you, but to the people and the nations that I found myself responsible for. In my cowardice and desire to retain my reputation, I fear that I have failed humanity. Like my cousins, I chose to turn a blind eye to the horrors that my own men were committing. But perhaps my sin can be counted as worse, as I was not held directly accountable to the Führer and could have done more to abate the destruction of innocent lives. I knew the words you spoke to me were true; however I was too afraid for myself and my own people to be burdened with the task of protecting others. I see now this was grave mistake – one I shall live with for the rest of my life. I do not expect such an a failure on my part to be easily forgiven; however I wish you to understand that I feel the gravity of my past actions.

My greatest regret has been the way I treated you prior to your departure. It was wrong of me to take moral high ground when it was I who was being unfaithful – not only to you, but to the people of Europe. As a nation it is my life's pledge to protect them at any cost to myself, and I have failed to uphold these duties. I was blinded by pride and a misplaced sense of ownership over the woman I was no longer married to. You had made clear your reasons for abstaining from any further intimacy, and while they were justified, I chose to let a bitterness grow inside my heart. It disgusts me to look back at how I had felt so wronged despite the unspeakable pain my fellow nations suffered under my authority.

I must admit that your departure did not improve my treatment of the others – in fact it all but worsened it. I grew angry at the injustice of your deployment, and instead of utilizing this against the regime which had so ruthlessly sent you and your men to the slaughter, I turned my frustration towards those under my charge. So enraged was I at your absence that I drew blood and thought nothing of it – though it had always been my cousins who would emerge from a room with blots of crimson staining their uniforms. It was not until much later that I realized I had become a worse oppressor than they.

It was late July of 1941, a month after Operation Barbarossa had commenced. By now Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia had been placed under my charge at the Estate, each of them arriving in various degrees of health but none severely war-torn. Minsk had been captured the previous month. However it came as no surprise to me that Belarus had not yet been returned to Berlin, as I presumed Gilbert had whisked her into his military excursions, using her knowledge of the Russian landscape to the advantage of the Wehrmacht. But despite my reassurances that she was perfectly safe under his charge, Lithuania continued to express his concern for her well-being. For weeks I dismissed his requests and even threatened to punish him if he continued, until he made a shocking comparison: "If you love Hungary as you claim, then you of all people should understand the responsibility I feel for Natalia's safety. Abandoning her would be no different than if Germany were to leave your beloved 'wife' to freeze in the Russian tundra." I grew angry at his words, but I could not deny their truth. And so with the knowledge that I was relinquishing my authoritative status to subordinate pressure, I sent out a summons for Belarus's transfer to Berlin.

A week later I received word that she had arrived. As I had done with the former Soviet Republics, I reported to the prisoner exchange base to deliver her to the Estate. I approached the grounds no differently than I always had – in full uniform, prepared to deliver the protocol speech. However nothing could have prepared me for what I was to encounter.

Upon seeing Miss Belarus, I did not recognize her. I first took her to be a prisoner of war released from a Soviet camp, so horrid was her condition. I was powerless to conceal my shock as I realized that this fragile, haunted skeleton of a girl was indeed the nation of Belarus. She was so thin that the issued uniform hung from her body as a large bathrobe, the knobs of her shoulders and vertebrae clearly visible through the fabric. Her once flowing snow-white hair had been reduced to a knotted mass twisted into a rope that hung limply over her shoulder. I had remembered Belarus as having a gaze sharp enough to kill a man, and yet her eyes seemed glazed and drained of all life. Her face was gaunt, emotionless, dark bruises and cuts marring her once stunning complexion.

So aghast was I at this sight, that I found myself speechless. I had not seen a nation in worse condition since Poland had arrived, and even then his wounds had been that of a brief and bloody battle – not weeks of neglect and physical abuse. At last when I was able to regain my composure, I demanded to know the circumstance of her arrival. To my dismay, the officer operating the exchange had little information on this matter. It was only after I had turned around to face Belarus that she acknowledged my presence. She stared at me as if in a dream, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Miss Belarus," I managed to say past my mortification. "Please come with me." Upon hearing these words, her eyes closed and her entire body shuddered with a breath that I recognized as relief. All previous intentions to remind her of protocol had fled my conscience completely.

As I watched this once proud nation struggle to rise to her feet and walk the short distance from the prisoner exchange to my automobile, I felt such a horror and confusion stir inside me that I had not felt since your departure. I knew almost nothing of the origin of Belarus's condition, and yet I felt I knew everything. She had come from the same front to which you had been sent, surrounded by the same men under whose charge you had been placed. So great was the distress that gripped me, my knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. But I dared not ask any questions for fear of traumatizing the girl even further.

When we arrived at the Estate, I immediately called for Lithuania. The horror was evident on his face as the sight of Belarus, but before he could ask any questions I ordered him to tend to her and not allow a single nation – not even I – into her presence. When he approached her, she seemed to have fallen into a confused state, believing herself to still be on the Eastern Front. She pulled away from me and screamed, falling to the floor trembling. I could only watch as Lithuania coaxed her into letting him take her to the bathroom – the use of Russian seemed to help immensely. I retired to my office, unable to bring myself to do anything but pace in maddened circles around my desk. I was tortured with the accusations of my conscience: Was I responsible for this? Was I wrong to trust that Gilbert would keep her safe? Had I granted Lithuania's request earlier, could this atrocity have been prevented?

I remained unable to answer these questions until the following day, when I summoned Belarus to my office. I explained to her the upmost importance that she relay to me exactly what had happened. I was met with a blank stare of carefully contained hatred. After asking a series of more specific questions, at last Belarus spoke to me in a voice sharpened by her tribulation: "You would be foolish to assume that the fires of Hell have made me weak. I want none of your disgusting pardons, not a drop of your so-called 'concern'. I will receive the same amount of work as every other bastard in this house, the same punishments." She continued with a low growl, "Gilbert did not come to Minsk, nor was he anywhere to be found in what is left of my country. Your precious soldiers beat me if I dared to mention his name."

Of course I was angry at Gilbert – how dare he abandon this girl to the bloodlust of his barbaric men? But I could not deny that the blame of this tragedy also fell upon my own shoulders. It had been my responsibility to assure that all nations placed beneath the Third Reich arrived safely in Berlin and were treated with the proper respect. Belarus had a brother and sister who loved her dearly and would be devastated to see her in such a condition. In failing to protect her, I had failed her family... and you.

I immediately wrote to Ludwig relaying these events. I now had no doubt that you were being treated in the same disgraceful manner as Belarus had, and I demanded for your immediate return. For a week I was plagued with images of your broken, bruised body until at last his response arrived. My hands shook as I opened the letter, and I let out a cry of relief when I read that you were in command of a Hungarian unit and in good health. However Ludwig refused to grant my request, claiming that your hand in Resistance was far too great to risk your return. He reminded me not to attempt any correspondence with you in order to avoid risk of encrypted communication between you and the others, specifically Poland. (For this reason I did not write you during your deployment, although it pained me greatly to withhold such sentiments.) I was surprised to read that Ludwig was also unable to locate Gilbert. He wrote that he had been met with the same abrasive response when questioning of his brother's whereabouts, and that he was taking it upon his own measures to find him. Ludwig agreed that what had become of Belarus was unacceptable, and that Gilbert would suffer the consequences of his desertion. I was furious that my younger cousin had the audacity to detain you as one would a hostage, but it was now clear that he had proof of your involvement in Resistance. I had little choice but to accept that he was protecting you from the Führer's wrath, however twisted his methods may be.

My consolations were to be short-lived. A year passed, and despite my frequent writings to Ludwig he failed to provide any specific information regarding your condition or whereabouts. I harbored suspicions that he had abandoned you in Russia so that he might search for his brother or travel to a different front. The prospect of you facing that Communist brute alone was too much for me to bear, and I prayed to God that my suspicions were false.

I was relieved when Ukraine arrived in comparatively good health, but this did nothing to abate Belarus's determination to locate Gilbert. Each week she demanded if I had received word from Ludwig, and the answer was always the same. I came to the grim conclusion that Gilbert had either been assigned to a secret mission or frozen to death in the grips of Russian Winter. Belarus grew enraged at my inability to supply her this information. After all the horrors she had suffered under my authority, I felt obligated to provide any form of comfort I could, and yet I was unable to do her this small favor. Once again I felt as though I had failed to live up to your expectations. I found myself muttering apologies as though you could hear them; I played your favorite sonatas for hours and imagined the serene look on your face when you listened – eyes closed, the smallest of smiles upon your lips. One night I was so determined to finish that I remained at the piano even as the house shook and sirens wailed from the bombing raids. I heard mutterings from the others the following day – they thought I had gone mad. Perhaps they were correct.

In late January of 1943, it was announced that the Wehrmacht had suffered defeat at Stalingrad. This was shocking, as the government had never before admitted a loss to the public. While Nazi propaganda insisted that our soldiers "were proud to sacrifice themselves for the Führer", I grew increasingly worried at the untold brutalities of the battle. By this time Ludwig had ceased responding to my telegrams, and so I made no effort to contact him. It wasn't until August that he returned to the Estate – more than two years since the three of you had departed for the Eastern Front.

I will never forget the day he arrived. I was at my desk when the door burst open to reveal Latvia, breathless and red-faced. "Herr Austria!" I sent him a glare; I did not appreciate being interrupted. The boy immediately corrected his mistake: "I-I mean, Heil Hitler! Sir, Germany is here!" I rose from my desk so fast that my chair scraped against the floor. "He's here?" I breathed, unable to believe it. The boy babbled some more in broken German, but I did not hear him. I rushed into the hallway, where indeed I was able to see an officer through the window. My entire body shook with anticipation as I snatched my hat from the shelf and threw open the front door, stepping out onto the driveway. I looked up to lock eyes with Ludwig, but something seemed to be different about him. He had grown thin, bandages concealing several wounds. His once bright eyes were now dulled with the wear of war. "Heil Hitler," he saluted.I did not bother to return the greeting. "Where is Elizaveta?"

Ludwig's brows pressed together in a frown. "Is she not here?"

I felt a cold dread overcome me, but I refused to show emotion. "Of course not, where is she?"

A slow horror came over Ludwig's face. "Mein Gott…"

"What?" I demanded.

He swallowed. "At Stalingrad she asked to be discharged. I said yes, she was…supposed to return here."

I could not believe what I was hearing. "And you never wrote me of this? When did she leave, did she travel on her own? What of her men, have they returned?"

Ludwig remained silent, his eyes falling to the ground. That was all he had met me with this entire war: silence. I felt my fear rise into anger as I shouted,"God dammit boy, ANSWER me!"

At last he looked up to meet me with grim eyes. "The Hungarian Army was surrounded on the retreat from Stalingrad. She knew her men were doomed, on Christmas Eve she told me she was leaving and that there was nothing I could do to stop her. I thought her own men would accompany her here, I…" He let out a short breath. "I'm sorry."

My eyes widened. Christmas Eve? That was seven months ago! My knees grew weak as I realized that it was nearly impossible to travel in Russia alone during the winter, and that if you had returned then surely you would have at least informed me of your arrival. Ludwig walked past me and into the house without another word. I foolishly glanced to his car as if expecting you to be sitting in the passenger seat, war-torn but still smiling in my direction through the scratched windows.

But you were not there.

I let out a shaky breath as I fell to my knees. All of my worst fears had come true, and it was now impossible for me to disregard the truth: You were dead. Such a despair gripped me as I had never felt before; I could not control the tears that fell from my eyes as I bent over and pounded my fist to the ground. The love of my life – the woman who challenged me at every turn but always remained my closest friend , and often my only friend – was dead.

What most tormented me was our last interaction since your departure. I had been angry and accused you of being unfaithful. I did not thank you for all you had done to protect our people, I did not tell you how much you meant to me, or how you would be missed. You had screamed that I was a coward, that I was too weak to do what I knew was right. And now I would forever be the selfish man who tried to stop you from saving your own people, and would never again be offered the chance to redeem myself – to be your loving husband, as I had promised over seventy years ago.

When at last I managed to regain my composure and go inside, almost every nation in the Estate had gathered in the foyer. They all looked at me in expectation; it was clear that Ludwig had not addressed them. The only sound came from Poland, who was trembling, his face red and wet with tears as Lithuania held him up. Belarus was the first to step forward, her voice shaking with anger. "Where is Gilbert?"

"I don't know," I said, my voice cracking.

"And Hungary?" Lithuania asked.

"She is dead."

Poland's face contorted with pain. " You – y-you COWARD!" He tried to lunge at me, but Lithuania held him back. His fingers dug into his friend's arms as he shouted, "You let Lizzie die, YOU could have stopped this! B-but you didn't, y-you were just content to sit in your high castle playing that damned piano as if the notes could save her!"

I struggled to control my own emotions, clenching my fists and meeting each of the nations with a stern gaze. Of course they were angry – they were powerless in the face of the Nazis, and they saw me as a figure of power who knew better. But the truth was that my own fate was determined by the tides of the war, and I was in no more control than they. The same was true for Gilbert who had gone missing, for Ludwig who had just witnessed a horrific battle, and for you… who were dead. My voice was low as I said,"Do not make the assumption that you are the only ones at the mercy of this war."

And yet the war was far from over. I will spare you the details of my grief, the intensified air raids, how the mansion began to empty as the Red Army pushed forward to reclaim Soviet territory. I will not bore you with the fires that burned in my chest as Vienna was bombed, nor with how I fled Berlin when I received word that the Red Army was bearing down upon my capital. No – for the cry that went up from my city must be familiar to you after so many months of brutal fighting.

What you must know is this: Shortly after Ludwig left the Estate for the African front, I began to assist the other nations in sending Resistance letters and regaining the contacts they had lost since your departure. I allowed them to speak their own languages and no longer punished them for disobeying the Führer's arbitrary rules. There seemed so little that I could do to minimize the damages of this god-forsaken war, but in the wake of your death I did everything in my power to assist the other nations without being detected by Nazi officials. These minuscule deeds will never redeem me of the years I spent in complacency and cowardice; of this I am well aware. But you must know that I felt true regret and wished to reverse my offense against the nations of Europe. I even taught some nations how to play the piano in order to distract them from the nightmares taking place within their borders. One night while playing Chopin's Nocturne in C-sharp Minor, my hands began to tremble so terribly that I could not finish. I repeated the chords several times in my frustration before tears spilled from my eyes. It seemed pointless to play if you could not hear it.

On May 2nd of 1945, the Nazis surrendered after a bloody battle in Berlin. In July all European nations were summoned to Potsdam for a series of meetings regarding the war's reparations… but you already knew this.

I will never forget the moment I saw you enter the meeting room. I nearly lost my footing; at first I believed you to be a vision. It was impossible – how could you be alive after two years of disappearance? Why had you not contacted me, how had you avoided detection by the government? It was only after Gilbert followed you into the room that I knew you were not a hallucination. I glanced to Ludwig and saw tracks of tears on his face – he had confided that he too, believed his brother to be dead. The meeting now seemed irrelevant; I had to speak with you! To hold you in my arms, to smell your hair, to tell you all that I wished you to understand! But fate would not be so kind.

I nearly cried out in dismay when it was announced that the Red Army would facilitate your recovery. I could not breathe when Russia declared that the nations under his charge were to report to Moscow within twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours! I had imagined there could have been nothing worse than what the Great War had taken from us, but I was wrong. It was no secret that Russia wanted to expand Communism across Europe. Even worse, he kept his subordinates very close; never before had they been allowed to attend meetings or travel outside of the Soviet Union. I trembled with despair, barely able to stand when the meeting was dismissed.

I should not have kissed you, I realize that now. But you must understand how overwhelmed I was – my relief, my joy, my horror, my grief all at once and I knew not how to express it. I must have appeared a fool, stammering and blubbering like a child. And yet in the wake of this horrendous war, despite all I had done to wrong you and your people, you remained strong. You took my head in your hands and looked straight through me with your stunning eyes, and told me that we would see each other again. You told me to live, to rebuild, to love. "The war is over," you said, and your face broke into the smile I had dreamt of countless times since your deployment. "We can live again."

My dearest Elizaveta. How you found the strength in your heart to show me kindness is beyond me, but I fear there is still much to be mended. This is the reason for my letter, and I hope that a door can be opened through which I may earn your friendship. I am aware that I will now be competing with Poland for your affections, and that under Russia's influence it is likely that you and Gilbert shall grow close once again. (It seemed you had contact with him during the years your disappearance; perhaps your friendship has already rekindled.) I am not so selfish as to wish that you not form these relationships – on the contrary, the Soviet Republics will be blessed to have you as a part of their lives. I have no doubt that you will bring them the same strength and inspiration you brought me.

I feel there is little need to provide you with words of encouragement, as you seem to have unwavering determination in circumstances such as this. But I fear that if the war has not yet broken you, Russia will. I fear he will make you forget your language, your culture, your rich history. You mustn't allow this to happen at any cost. You must remember where you came from and what you have fought for, you must do what is right. These are the visions of which I lost sight as a Nazi, and I pray that you not make the same mistake so as not to be burdened with the same guilt as I.

I wish you to know that regardless of any reservations you may have against me or the years that we may spend apart, you will always be the love of my life and my dearest friend. But to ask that you return these sentiments is far too great a request – I simply implore that you grant me your forgiveness and consider maintaining correspondence through this difficult time. I have included with this letter my original score of Brahms' 6 Kavierstucke Op. 118. If words have failed me, if the atrocity of my deeds is too much from which to be redeemed, then it is my hope that you may play this piece and understand my true feelings on the matter.

Words cannot express the pain with which I bid you farewell. But I am certain that we shall meet again, and until then I will never cease to think of you. My dearest Elizaveta, even if this is the last time that you grant me permission to express such sentiments I shall do so with the sincerest of passion: I love you.

Forever Yours,
Roderich Edelstein

Historical Notes:

Operation Barbarossa - Beginning June 22, 1944, the Nazi's plan to invade the Soviet Union was the largest land invasion in history. By September of the same year, the Baltic States, Belarus and Ukraine were occupied by Nazi Germany. However as winter set in the Germans were unable to take Moscow, and the operation failed.

Belarus - (The truth is that the invasion of Belarus was no worse than the Baltics – the only difference was that Natalia herself was stuck out there with the soldiers for about a month.) Over 9,000 villages were burned and Minsk lost about 80% of its buildings by the end of the war. The Minsk ghetto was built, housing up to 100,000 Jews, and German task forces regularly rounded up civilians and shot them. (See Oko za Oko for more details, if you can stomach it.)

Hungarian/Polish Resistance - The Polish Resistance was the strongest of all of Nazi-occupied Europe. They disrupted German supply lines to the Eastern Front, provided military intelligence to the British, and saved more Jewish lives in the Holocaust than any other Allied organization. Though Hungarian Resistance did little to defeat the Nazis, Hungarian officials provided safe-havens for the Polish Army, civilians, and Jews.

Berlin bombings - Over the course of the war, Berlin suffered at total of 363 air raids by the British, American, French, and Soviet forces. The most well-known of these was the Battle of Berlin of November 1943, in which 2,000 Berliners were killed and 175,000 were rendered homeless. Several firestorms also broke out in the city, but despite this the morale of the German civilians did not break and the city's defenses remained in tact. Bombing intensified in 1945, and about a third of its houses were rendered uninhabitable.

Battle of Stalingrad - This is labeled as one of history's largest and bloodiest battles, and was a decisive victory for the Soviet Union that was a turning point for the war. It lasted from August of 1942 until February of 1943. The fighting in the city became so intense that soldiers fought to capture individual rooms inside of houses. Supply lines were running low, and by the end of the battle German forces were both starving and running out of ammunition. When the top General requested Hitler for permission to surrender, he refused. The army was split into several pockets, and each had to surrender separately over the next month. Among those fighting was the Hungarian Second Army. Out of 200,000 men, only 40,000 returned. It was said that "no nation lost as much blood in such a short amount of time."

Vienna Offensive - The Red Army's attack on Vienna lasted from April 2-13, 1945. By the end of the Battle, some of Vienna's finest buildings had been turned to rubble. There was no water, gas or electricity, and the second wave of Soviet soldiers looted and raped the inhabitants for several weeks on end.

Potsdam Conference - The Potsdam Conference was held from July 17th to August 2nd, 1945 between the heads of the Allies to determine what would become of Europe in the aftermath of the war. Decisions included the devisions of both Berlin and Vienna into four ally-occupied sectors, as well as granting the Soviet Union control of all occupied areas.

Communist Hungary - The Red Army occupied Hungary from September 1944 until April 1945, including a two-month long siege of Budapest that left the city in widespread destruction. While the Soviets provided the people with free elections, the Communist party quickly gained power and by 1947 elections were rigged and opposing party members were being arrested. On 18 August 1949, parliament passed the Hungarian Constitution of 1949 which was modeled after the 1936 constitution of the Soviet Union. The name of the country changed to the People's Republic of Hungary.

AN: Wow, that was too much. Well I hope you made it through, and if you did please leave a review! :D