In the Hall of the Mountain King [Austria & Prussia]

((For some reason I associate the song In the Hall of the Mountain King with Kobolds...It seemed appropriate. xD))

Roderich eagerly walked to the music classroom. This year, the senior's favourite class marked the start of his day. The beginning of his day, every day. It was made even more exciting by the fact the early hour meant he could show up even earlier and play the gorgeous array of instruments without the rest of the class chiming in with their own instruments of choice. There was certainly nothing wrong with playing music amongst the others, but sometimes the arrogant boy thought it nice to play without hearing the inevitable errors of others.

He quietly stepped into the room, drawing in the familiar sight of lovingly stored instruments. A content sigh slipped out of his mouth upon settling in front of a grand piano. The rest of the world slipped from his attention as the alp slid his long fingers gently along the pristine keys. There was no need to worry about the world anyways. No one had ever protested in the past about the student showing up early to be productive. The fact that an unfamiliar teacher's name was scrawled on his schedule for this class had slipped Roderich's mind entirely.

The last of the Austrian's thoughts disappeared in a medley of carefully picked notes. Within seconds, Roderich became a part of the music, passionately pressing the old keys. The music, a piece lovingly composed by the boy over the summer, was extremely soft and peaceful. Minutes passed swiftly, and when the song came to a close there was only a brief pause. Fingers were stretched, then the next carefully chosen piece started. He planned to continue in this way until students started arriving to the class. Only then did he intend to allow the piano fall silent.

Gilbert Beilschmidt hummed cheerfully, hoisting his rucksack higher on his back as he made his way through the halls to his classroom. It seemed like a pretty good morning for his first class; the kobold swore that Morgenstimmung began playing in his head as soon as he woke up. If that wasn't an indication of how awesomely his first day would go, he didn't know what was. Today was the day he'll be starting his new job as a music teacher, and he couldn't help but be excited. There was also a small bit of nervousness, but that was to be expected. After all, he was a household sprite who had only begun teaching little children on a whim.

He was only a little ways from the classroom when he heard soft piano music coming from inside it. He quirked a silver eyebrow. Someone had gotten there before him? It was over an hour before class starts, and he wondered who would want to use the grand piano this early in the morning (never mind that he himself was there, also intending to play a few pieces in solitude).

Gilbert entered the room noiselessly, though actually had no need to do so for the student was quite focused in his playing. The kobold settled himself on a chair at the back, mentally declaring that his first duty would be to evaluate this student's performance. He shifted on the seat for more comfort before closing his eyes to focus only on the music.

He hadn't heard this piece before. A personal composition? The tune was pleasant. Peaceful. It was the kind of sound you'd want playing in the background during a time of relaxation, cliché as that sounds. There's also an aristocratic feel to it, which was probably saying something about the composer. This person... He plays well, Gilbert admitted. The music was soft, but he could hear just how confident he was. There was no hesitation, and no mistakes.

Of course, there were also faults, but Gilbert would save mentioning those for actual class evaluation. He opened his eyes when the other stopped, only to let out a low chuckle when the student resumed playing right away. The spirit guessed he could give up his early morning music session...this time. Today, he could just listen.

^{((You mentioning that reminded me of another one from Peer Gynt that made me fall asleep while listening to it again, thus why this took a while XD But lol, Roddie would kill Gil if he knew how he was criticizing him in his head. Ffff, and I don't even know just how skilled I should make him.))}

While Roderich would never admit to the obliviousness that overtook him during listening or playing music, it was still a painfully obvious fact. A low chuckle had quite obviously resounded through the room, but the aristocratic student appeared not to hear it. That is, he did not notice until a good minute into his second piece, a waltz by Jonathan Strauss II.

A sing sour note rung through the room to mark the realization and premature end to the waltz. Roderich's previous relaxation drained away in a flash. He was tense now, radiating a slight bit of nervousness. It was not the fact that he had an audience that disturbed him. The arrogant child liked an audience, the more people to view his skills, the better. No, it was the stealthiness of his audience that scared the Austrian. He did not appreciate people sneaking up on him, especially not in this school. There were far too many ghouls and monsters to feel truly safe here.

The alp did his best to create a calm and unperturbed air about him before turning to face the room's other occupant. However, the facade was quickly lost and replaced with a blatant look of confusion. Far across the room sat an almost ghostly figure. From where Roderich sat, he appeared pale and perhaps a bit young. Not quite young enough to pass as the more threatening existence that would be a new student, but surely he could not be a teacher. Roderich was almost positive that he would be able to recognize a teacher if he saw one.

“Who are you?” he ended up snapping. There was little regard for politeness yet. He would regret the lack of manners momentarily, but for now he was annoyed with the interruption from an unidentifiable entity.

((Hahaha. Sorry? xD Pffft. Roddie doesn't like criticism. Blaarghff. I dunno exactly how good Roddie is either. I just have a vague idea in my head of "good for his age, but definitely not as good as he thinks he is".))

This was the first time Gilbert watched someone play from an audience's point of view. Before this he had only been either playing by himself, or guiding the little students as they stumbled through a piece. It was refreshing, and surprised him at how differently he could hear the composition from this perspective. It was also interesting, being able to observe the player himself.

The Prussian (he liked to consider himself as part of the once great nation, and technically, it was where he had first came to) absently crossed his arms, relaxing more on his seat. The calm atmosphere reminded him of the fact that he had barely gotten any rest at all last night, having spent the time doing his usual rounds. He supposed this was the one aspect he didn't like about his new teaching job; he wouldn't be able to to spend the day just lazing around after finishing his chores. Even though he wasn't a mortal, he could still get tired.

Red eyes now half-open, the kobold was ready to fall into a snooze...

...but then a sour note resounded in the room, rousing him from his sleepy state.

His eyes shot open at the sound, and found that the student had stopped playing completely. Why had he stopped? Gilbert looked curiously at the young man who was unmoving. His eyes weren't very good, and he was quite far from him, so he was unable to pick out the expression on the other's face.

Gilbert's curiosity turned into surprise when he turned to face him. Ah, so he had been discovered. He blinked and frowned slightly in confusion though as the student merely stared at him. Come to think of it, was the young man even a student? When the kobold thought about it, he was pretty sure any normal student wouldn't want to be in class this early.

His frown then grew at the way the other asked, or more like demanded, who he was. But nonetheless, he smirked at him. "The awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt," he began, standing up and fixing the backpack still slung over his shoulder. "I'm the new music teacher."

^{((Lol XD I love your Roderich. And that would be perfect for him. Hm... Then maybe Gil could be the 'good, but totally does what he wants like modifying the piece' type))}

Roderich shifted awkwardly on the bench, glancing from the now standing man across the room then back to the piano. He moved as if to stand as well, but half-way through the action Roderich ended up changing his mind. The pianist could find no reason to stand up yet unless directly threatened. He was here first. If the pale man wished to speak with him, then he would have to come closer. The pianist was going to insist on being stubborn, even if was silly. Strange people were not welcome in his familiar surroundings. Change was not welcome and would quickly be rejected.

The so-called “Gilbert”'s words were certainly not helping the Austrian deal with his issues with change. They were doing quite the opposite; breeding an instant dislike of new people. Part of the alp insisted that the man must be lying, but he knew those were futile thoughts. He could remember looking at his schedule now, the pristine white paper tainted with unfamiliar and wrong letters. The debased paper had been written off as a mistake, nothing to worry about.

“Good day, Mister Beilschmidt. I am Roderich,” replied the alp carefully, always nervous about throwing his full name around willy-nilly. He knew quite well that this teacher would be able to easily find his full name on a class roster or from his files, but there was some satisfaction in knowing the other would have to want to find his name.

For a long moment, Roderich remained silent, as though hoping the information about who this man was would go away. It did not seem to dissipate and a near-silent hiss marked his frustration with the matter. The aristocrat got over his stubborn ways and abruptly stood. Upon doing so, he grabbed and clutched his stained and worn sheet music as though he planned on leaving.

“I could have sworn there was already a capable music teacher,” commented the Austrian suddenly. He frowned slightly at the unintended snideness of the statement, but he did not amend the statement either. He was not ready to welcome the other yet.

Gilbert watched in amusement as the other seemed to be determining in his mind just what he should do. He raised an eyebrow when the man was about to stand up, only to settle himself back on the piano bench. Soon the teacher managed to figure out what he was doing. A stubborn one, aren't you? He thought. Well, you're not the only one. The smirk returned to his face, though now it showed a hint of a challenge. He stayed where he currently stood, only moving to stuff a hand into his jacket's pocket. Sure, he wasn't at the top of the school's administration, but right now they were in the music classroom. In here, he was the authority.

He didn't know what exactly triggered the release of this particular attitude of his, though supposed it was from the haughty air the other was giving off. Usually, he would be friendly and very welcoming with new acquaintances, but with how this man seemed to be giving him the exact opposite of that, why would Gilbert bestow him that honor? So he merely continued standing there, waiting for the other to make his move.

"You can just call me Gilbert," the kobold responded back when the man finally replied. "And nice meeting you, Roddie," he added, though a little half-heartedly. For a moment, he wondered what kind of surname went with the name, and also what nationality the student (he had assumed from the somewhat polite greeting) was, for he couldn't distinguish his accent. He then decided to just check it out at his class list later. Surely Roderich was one of his.

He barely noticed when the student moved to get up, looking ready to leave, though it didn't escape Gilbert it all when Roderich made the snide remark. Hoo boy. Already, this brat annoyed him. Still, he maintained his smirk, eyes fixed at the other in a daring gaze. "There was, but maybe the school found someone more capable," he challenged.

Roderich frowned as the teacher matched his own stubborn actions. The boy wanted to sneer at the man's immaturity, but part of him, the segment that insisted on being a good student, refused to show such blatant disrespect. The aristocrat may have a bit of an attitude and some iffy morals, but he still had certain standards. He could not berate a teacher. He especially could not do so when he was being just as childish as the other man.

“You mean Roderich, not Roddie,” he quickly snapped. He may not like the strange creatures of the school knowing his full name, but that did not mean they could call him by false names either. He despised nicknames with all of his misty heart. Roderich was the aristocratic Austrian's name. Roderich Edelstein. His name was not to be tarnished, decimated. He was far too proud for that. However, no matter how insulted he may be, his upbringing insisted that some level of politeness be maintained. “It is a pleasure to meet you too,” managed the student.

Strangely nervous under Gilbert's challenging gaze, Roderich awkwardly shifted in his spot. How badly he wished to leave the classroom now. He wanted to flee and never return to this domain. It was as if an invader had shown up on his land and stolen or destroyed everything he had loved about the place. Perhaps is was an overreaction. Perhaps, if given a chance, this Gilbert would not be so bad. However, Roderich did not want the change, the new “king”, no matter how beneficial it could be for him. No, he wanted to run away and drop the class, but the pride of the fallen, stubborn aristocrat did not allow him to flee.

“Oh, I am certain you are far more capable, si-...Gilbert,” he answered, trying not to take the bait and get angry. “But he will be missed. The poor old man must be struggling to get by now that he has lost his only job.”

The way the student shifted between borderline rudeness and forced politeness both amused and annoyed Gilbert at the same time. It reminded him of the time he had served Old Fritz's household; of when he was treated in a similar manner by the aristocrats he encountered, though back then it was because of his unusual appearance (demonic, he had heard some mutter) and his familiarity with Frederick, in spite of how he was but a mere servant. They had not known of his true nature at the time. Honestly, he would have cursed all of them back then, or had done something even worse, if it hadn't been for Frederick's wry disapproval.

As the memories resurfaced, his gaze stayed trained on Roderich, inquisitive and unintentionally intense. The student's demeanor did remind him of them, but no...he didn't want to think about that. So what if the kid was a prissy little brat? Right now, what he really wanted to know was why said brat was looking like he very much wanted Gilbert to leave, or to leave himself.

"Not really. I'm pretty sure he's enjoying his retirement," he said with a dismissive wave of his free hand, his smirk disappearing. He didn't want the other to learn that he was here only because the former music teacher, an old mage, had suddenly filed in his resignation, and the school had yet to find a proper replacement. He didn't mind knowing that though; he was going to show them all just awesome he could be at this job...starting with Roderich.

"You know, you aren't really being discreet with your not wanting me to be here," Gilbert helpfully pointed out as he began to make his way towards the student. "Is it because I don't look like a 'proper teacher'? Or even a decent musician?" He clicked his tongue mockingly after stopping right in front of Roderich. "You really shouldn't judge people based on how they look." With that said, his eyes, which he had kept fixed on the student until that moment, glanced meaningfully at the grand piano.

Roderich could only frown at the confident music teacher as his dislike managed to only grow more and more irrational. He knew he wanted to dislike the man, to growl and argue with him, but for the moment, Gilbert was giving him no reason to do so. All Roderich could do was cling to his dislike of change. That, or the boy could give up his irrationality and relax. It was an oddly difficult dilemma for the student to solve.

Retirement. The word made him flinch and the stubborn Austrian immediately flicked his eyes away from the pale man's intense gaze. If only the old teacher had warned them, him, that he would be leaving, then Roderich would not have had to deal with this unexpected situation. He could have been calm, collected. He could have even been polite and kind. This entire interaction could have gone so much more smoothly.

Guilty eyes gazed at the ancient and cracked walls for the long moments that Gilbert used to cross the room. Only when the teacher was standing near him, uncomfortably close in the slightly reclusive teenager's opinion, did Roderich look him in the eyes again. Unconsciously, he took a step backwards to create more space, but at the same time he managed to muster up a little bit of genuine politeness for the music teacher.

“I apologize. I was not judging you upon looks or first impression. Many talented musicians do not look the part. It was just...” Roderich trailed off, not wishing to admit his problem with change. He shook his head, trying to change the subject as quickly as possible. He followed Gilbert's gaze to the piano. “However, if you are worried about your musical skills, perhaps you ought to play something, sir,” he challenged.

^{((*kowtows* Sorry for the lateness. *makes up for it by giving a long reply?*))}

Gilbert couldn't help but feel a little bad at having falsely accused his student, though he wanted to believe he wasn't the only one who was in the wrong. Roderich, with his misplaced and irrational dislike which Gilbert had thought was directed towards him, was also at fault. Admittedly though, now the teacher was just relieved that it didn't seem like his student actually hated him. Even if he didn't really show it, the kobold was terribly afraid of the possibility that his students would reject him.

"I already told you; just call me Gilbert. Call me 'sir' again and I'll kick your pansy ass," he threatened jokingly. But even though they seemed to have gotten off of that rocky start, it didn't stop Gilbert from wanting to show Roderich up completely, never mind that they were the only ones who would be able to witness the event. "And nah. I'm not worried about my 'musical skills'," he stated bluntly as he approached the piano, that arrogant smirk back on his face. "I just want you to have the honor of being the first of my students to hear my awesomeness!" he declared, setting his backback on the ground before sitting down on the piano bench.

He raised his hands, fingers now poised to dramatically hover over ebony and ivory keys, and after he finally brought them down to touch the keys...the familiar tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star resounded through the room. He went through the melody slowly, expression mockingly serious, and near the end played excruciatingly slower, the sound descending to pianissimo. After the last, barely audible note was struck, he paused before slamming his fingers back down on a few select keys, switching to another piece he knew by heart.

Whenever Gilbert played Liszt's Mazeppa, fingers hitting keys perfectly as a result of excessive practice and hands jumping along enthusiastically with the gallops, he liked to imagine that he was Mazeppa. When he visualized himself strapped onto the wild horse, free to gallop and fruitlessly attempt to push him off, the music teacher's playing grew more aggressive. The resulting sounds were expressive and passionate from the quieter, withdrawn parts to the energetic jumps, and by the time he reached the allegro deciso, he was sweating profusely, drops occasionally landing on the keys as he hit them in a seemingly wild fashion.

A smirk played on his lips as the etude neared its completion, once again losing himself to imagination. He saw himself in that critical condition as the horse he was mounted on galloped with renewed energy. This was the kobold's story. Like the Ukrainian page Mazeppa, he had gone through a while of torture and suffering bordering morbid, though knowing in the end: 'Il tombe, et se relève roi!' He would fall, then rise as a king.

Gilbert, grinning and high from an odd adrenaline rush, looked right at Roderich.

Once again, the Austrian boy shifted awkwardly in front of the Prussian. He did not understand how to deal with the stranger. Should be like him or hate him? One moment, he would be calm, somewhat friendly and likeable, but the next moment he was rude and arrogant. There was nothing wrong with arrogance in Roderich's mind, for he was quite arrogant himself, but somehow it bothered him when Gilbert did it. It was as if the lack of manners made the actions unacceptable.

“I do apologize,” he started. He quickly paused again, as if not sure whether he ought to be polite or blunt anymore. “It merely seems rather inappropriate to be calling a teacher by his first name, but I shall try to remember to call you Gilbert.” His nose wrinkled in distaste at the thought of dropping the custom, but the younger man made sure too look in another direction to try and hide it. “And I am not a pansy nor is my, as you put it, ass,” Roderich ended up huffing, ruining his new attempts a politeness.

He manged to quip out a “Aren't I special?” in regards to being the first to hear Gilbert play as a teacher, but quickly fell into silence. Rage filled him as the painful sound of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, accompanied by Gilbert's serious expression, filled the room. He would not be made a mockery of by some new, probably hipster, teacher. With his sheet music now crushed in his hands, old ink and pencil marks smeared almost beyond recognition, Roderich started to angrily leave the room, but he only got as far as the door before the next piece started. He froze in the doorway, turning in slight shock as the music changed.

No matter how much Roderich loathed to admit it, the sight and sound was stunning. He leaned against the door frame, staring unabashed. Anyone could see the passion this man put into his playing, sweat and dramatic movements telling a tale all their own, but the sound! The sound was amazing to Roderich; awe-inspiring. It was pure and rich and beautiful. It was almost as if Gilbert was the song, lived the music, the way he played it. It was a surprise from the cruel pianist. All he could do was close his eyes and let the sound surround him. In moments, all the world was Roderich and Mazeppa.

Roderich did not open his eyes to meet Gilbert's gaze upon completion of the song. Instead, he remained silent for a few long moments, a strange respect for the teacher welling up inside him. “You are very talented. How long have you been playing?” he eventually murmured.

The grin on the kobold's face wavered when he found Roderich with his eyes closed, expression annoyingly enigmatic. Gilbert admitted that even though he had mentally teased the student about it earlier, he himself also had the same habit of blocking everything out whenever he played. Usually he didn't mind that fact, but at this instance it frustrated him; he had wanted to notice the emotions he had managed to elicit from the boy as he gave his awesome performance.

He was a damn good pianist, that he knew, but that kind of confidence derived only from self-assurance could only go so far. He needed to know what others thought of him. He needed to know if, as a musician, he could be a good role model to the students. And most of all, at the moment...he wanted to know if he had been able to impress Roderich. The teacher blinked, just then noticing the strange trail of thought, before chuckling to himself. For a moment, he wondered why the student's opinion mattered so much to him, but the answer popped up into his head soon enough.

From Gilbert's perspective, Roderich was superior. Though the teacher had yet to get a clear grasp of the student's technical skill, he knew that musically, Roderich was far more skilled than he was. Also, (but he would never admit this out loud) he was jealous of the brunette's creativity and ability to compose. While he was good at adding personal touches to the pieces he play, Gilbert didn't have a sound that he could call his own.

As to answer his earlier musing: basically, he wanted honest criticism from someone with broader expertise--someone clearly better than him.

So his grin came back in volumes at Roderich's words. 'Talented'. Normally he wouldn't have accepted it as a good compliment, but considering how the word had come from the arrogant student's lips, it was more than enough. And it was very talented, he corrected himself proudly. He then pondered on how to answer the question which accompanied it as he took out a handkerchief to dab off the sweat drops from the piano. Technically, he had started tinkering with a piano a few months into 1833, though he didn't know for how long he had actually been playing.

"Longer than you think," he said simply, settling for a vague answer. He began using the handkerchief to wipe off the sweat from his face and neck before adding with a bright smile, "And of course I am. I'm awesome."

Roderich did not move from his place by the door for some time. This time, the Austrian was not rooted in place due to fear, rejection, or rage, but instead because of a comfortable feeling of contentment. The music had put him at complete ease with the situation, conveying a new first impression of the man, doing a better job than words could have ever tried to do. As long as this Gilbert could refrain from talking, then Roderich could accept and welcome the pianist.

Of course, the music teacher could not keep quiet. Roderich was willing to accept the vague answer despite the fact it made little sense to him. He could drop any issues he had with the fact a long time could mean anything from twenty years to a hundred years in this school. No, it was the other man's endless declarations of his superiority, “awesomeness” that bothered Roderich. He figured it fine to believe oneself better, but he did not appreciate the thought being bluntly thrust in his face every few moments. If he was so much better, why could he not act as such, like Roderich did?

“I see,” he started, speaking thoughtfully, carefully, in an attempt to quell his annoyance. He focused on the teacher's music instead. The beautiful, bright noise that took over the room and his mind in a glorious whirlwind of notes. He visibly perked up at those thoughts. “I am sure you will blow the students away when they arrive. You...You probably...play better than the previous teacher...” Roderich trailed off, having trouble voicing such traitorous opinions.

The Austrian realized he was gazing away from the pianist, examining his feet instead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his sheet music, injured by his short temper. He flinched, immediately choosing to fold up the papers and hide them in his pocket, unwilling to see the mess of music, some of which had yet to be played. Even with the papers hidden, the evidence remained stained on his hands in messy blotches. He huffed, choosing to step back to Gilbert and his piano rather than regret his foolish anger.

Roderich let his clean hand caress the piano, wanting to play, but not wishing to dirty it or remove Gilbert from the instrument that caused Roderich to respect him. “Do you play anything else?” he asked, voice carefully quiet.

A silver eyebrow quirked upwards as Gilbert continued to regard the unmoving boy. Was Roderich still so in awe of his virtuosic display? He couldn't help but grin proudly at the thought. That Mazeppa, along with the other eleven Transcendental Etudes, was the product of several years of grueling practice. He had gone through bouts of anger, frustration, and wrist pains in order to get that topnotch (or at least he hoped it was) technical skill.

Gilbert looked down at the keys as he took in Roderich's response. He had no idea how well the previous teacher played, having only met him briefly before he left, so he also had no clue just how much weight the student's words had. But the first statement, along with how Roderich seemed to hesitate before saying the next one, did get to him. He let out a small laugh and an unusually quiet "thanks", and smiled as he pressed random keys.

"Violin, viola, flute, cello, and drums," he replied, though surprisingly not in his customary arrogant tone. He played a lot of other instruments, having never had a shortage of time to learn them. He was decent at them, he believed, though piano would always be his favourite and primary instrument. His fingers continued moving, playing nonsensical yet still pleasant melodies as he followed the partly-instinctive action with his eyes. "If you're talking about piano, I try to play any good pieces that I hear."

His words made him realize that he still hadn't voiced what he had been wondering since earlier when he entered the room. Deciding that now was a good time to ask, he glanced up at Roderich for a quick moment. "Hey. Earlier, what you were playing…" he began, fingers shifting position to prepare for a new piece, reproducing the melody Gilbert had heard from the student. He played it with the slightest bit of hesitation, used to playing by ear but not accustomed to playing something so mild and soft. "Did you compose this?" he asked as he continued recreating the piece as best as he could, and hoping he wasn’t butchering it or had heard it wrong. Even he knew that it would be downright disrespectful if Roderich really did write it.

A few minutes later, he ended the piece in a light note like Roderich had done, and then Gilbert looked up at him, gaze curious and inquiring.