Set in the mid 1800s or so this is just a little thing about pirate England (because he is my favourite England) and France having a bit of fun.
Shadowed woodland streamed past the window as the carriage rattled on. Arthur's vision shuddered with the glass pane his forehead rested against, the clattering of it in its frame blocking out the droning voice of the man next to him.
"Sir, are you listening to me?" his nasal tone was hard to ignore when it took on that nagging inflection and so, reluctantly, the nation peeled his head from the cold surface to look his escort in the eye.
"Who's going to be there?" he answered the question with one of his own.
Rolling his eyes, deep set within his wrinkled face, the younger man's contempt for the representative clear. To be fair, said nation felt the same way.
"Of course, Austria and the other Germanics, they are hosting. I believe Russia and his sisters are to make an appearance, therefore some of the Baltics may as well. I expect you to speak with all of them," he listed, that grating voice really getting on Arthur's nerves.
"What about officials?" he asked through gritted teeth.
The other nonchalantly removed his glasses to polish them with his folded handkerchief, "you need not worry about them, Sir, that is what I am here for," he muttered.
"Well why did I even need to come if I'm not here for politics?" Arthur demanded, irritation mounting.
Calmly, condescendingly, the government official spoke, replacing his glasses, without so much as looking in his direction.
"You are here to socialise, to dance and to apologise for not being in attendance at the last four world meetings. Do not think your absence has gone unnoticed."
"I think you'll find I was away discovering and conquering new territories for my queen an-" the nation began to rant but was interrupted.
"Need I not remind you, my Lord, that your duty to queen and country is as much in the board room as it is elsewhere and one duty must not overshadow another." The disrespectful sneer placed on the title Arthur had earned made the blood on his veins heat up like a fire was lit beneath him.
However, opening his mouth to retort, the indignant nation was met with a stern, bespectacled glare, and so, sat back in his seat with a resigned huff.
How dare this man, whose name he didn't even know, suggest he was neglecting his duties. He worked harder than anyone to build, to improve his already great land. Gaining power was surely his priority in this time of relative peace, while he was the strongest he had ever been. There was no time for ridiculous parties, not when there were new worlds to take.
Nevertheless, he supposed, being the empire he was, it was important to show his face occasionally, even if it was just for chit chat. Still, he did not appreciate being forced into it by his bloody meddling government.
Placing his chin in his palm, the British representative went back to staring blankly at the rolling Austrian countryside. It wasn't dissimilar to his own, as was much of Europe, but something in it felt different. Like wearing someone else's shoes.
After a short while, the warm lights of an estate floated into view and Artur watched, with a sense of dread, as the hovering orbs took formation. The architecture of Austria was something he admired, with structures grand and sweeping that yet managed to have such delicate artistry. Ahead of them, the building they quickly approached was no exception, its perfect symmetry coming across as meticulous as the man who inhabited it. The aristocratic air it held making his nose to wrinkle, euphoniously, in derision. A large front garden of perfectly trimmed bushes and trees reflected the anal manner of the place.
As they approached, it was made evident that they were late as dozens of sets of carriage tracks scored the entranceway. Ornate, iron gates pulled open to let them through and the vehicle came to a halt parallel to the grand double doors. Before Arthur could reach to open the door, a hand grasped his arm firmly.
"I have heard about your recent behaviour," the old git warned, "and you are not to cause a spectacle, do you understand?"
Narrowing his eyes back, the personification yanked his arm away.
"You don't command me," he growled.
The politician's gaze was chillingly bureaucratic as he sat calmly.
"In my opinion, the nations are an outdated tradition and nothing more. You are to do as we say."
A bolt of ice ran through Arthur's chest, his face heating up in anger.
"Is that a threat?" he hissed.
All he received in return was that same cool glare, beady eyes magnified through their metal frames.
The door to his side of the carriage was opened for him as he remained in a heated war between looks.
"Shall we?" the arrogant consort nodded at the open door.
Hatred stirring inside him, the nation slid from his seat and exited the carriage, being joined by his attendant a moment later and walking in silence together up the steps to the mansion.
Heavy doors creaked open onto the inviting warmth and the two Englishmen were ushered to the main hall. A harmony of strings echoed throughout the corridors, muffled by numerous tapestries and curtains, the distortion making them sound off key. Beside him, the other man nattered about musts and must nots as they walked but he actively ignored them. He couldn't care in the slightest how this evening went.
Eventually, they reached the ballroom, a pompous pit of festering grandeur, and were greeted by the master of all things ostentatious himself.
"Good evening, gentlemen. I hope I find you well," welcomed Roderich, curl bouncing in a way that made Arthur wish he had brought his cutlass.
"Evening, Roderich. I'm well. And you?" the unenthusiastic guest drawled, extending a hand.
The aristocratic nation eyed his outstretched limb with a look of thinly masked disdain and shook it with a grip like limp lettuce. Whatever the correct greeting in this part of Europe was, Arthur couldn't remember it and did not care to, especially if it was that kissing thing.
"I am well also, but we have missed you at our meetings recently."
That was a lie. The damn, self-centred prick probably hadn't noticed he wasn't there. No one even knew why he came to those meetings when he wasn't doing anything relevant to the rest of the world. However, he could feel a politician's glare on him, and so smiled with tight lips.
"Yes, I apologise. I was seeing to other business," he spoke with forced politeness.
Arthur lost interest as the Germanic nation rambled off about something, leading them through the middle of the room. Servers with trays of Champaign wandered, bored, around the clusters of people that had formed. Gladly taking a glass from one that came to them, Arthur downed it before anyone had noticed then took another to give his hands something to do.
"…and that's why I must find a new housekeeper," he heard the Austrian finish off a story he hadn't listened to as they stopped walking.
"Oh, yes, of course," he faked with ease.
Looking in the direction of the orchestra, Roderich gave a disgusted snort.
"I must see to the music," he announced, "excuse me."
Giving a stiff bow, he walked away with the posture of a wooden plank, curl bobbing uncontrollably. The Englishmen had to hold in a snorted laugh, he truly was an absurd excuse for a nation.
Silence fell with the scratch of disturbed instruments and a moment later a new piece began, Roderich now playing conductor. Taking a sip from the delicate, crystal flute, Arthur surveyed the room. Billowing dresses swished in time with the music, the smell of women's perfume overpowering. A dozen couples twirled in the latest fashionable dance while others stood to the side, gossiping, or sharing polite conversation.
"I see Russia over in the corner. Why don't you start with him," the leech of a man suggested, not a suggestion but an order.
Not wishing to speak to his current company a moment longer, Arthur glanced at him a moment before making his way over to the other nation that stood with his two sisters, isolated from anyone else.
The trio was out of place, antisocial even. He couldn't really blame them, though, what with the political issues they faced. It was surprising they were even invited as those such as Austria tended to see them as outcasts, an unfair label in Arthur's opinion as he himself had worn it before.
On approaching, Ivan was the first to see him, a childish look of pleasure spreading across his face. Whether it was genuine or not was impossible to tell with that man, perhaps the reason so many were wary of him, but Arthur had nothing to feel worried about.
"Privet, Arthur, so good to see you," the taller man spoke, raising his own glass in greeting, the older woman smiling warmly and the younger remaining expressionless.
"Good evening, Ivan. How are you?" he asked cordially.
"I am well, and yourself? We have not seen you in some time, we have missed your presence."
Arthur knew he was only being friendly but he scoffed, taking a deep drink from his glass to numb the mundanity of their exchanges.
"No, you haven't," he muttered.
"Well, no, I have not but I prefer you to many who attend so I noticed you were not there," he continued to smile placidly.
The honesty was appreciated and rather amusing, coaxing the Brit's lips to twitch upward. They were not close, far from it, but much of their royalty was interlocked through various relations and so they ended up speaking more frequently than most. Come to think of it, they probably had more in common with each other than with anyone else there. However, this did not mean they had much to talk about, as was apparent when both fell silent after their formalities.
As one song ended, another began. A waltz, this time. More couples bustled onto the floor, bowing and beginning to circle, the sound of fabrics brushing against one another and the clacking of shoes increasing tenfold.
"You know, Natalia has been looking to practice her waltz and I am not much for the dancing," the Russian spoke for the smaller girl. "Maybe you would allow her the chance?"
Trying to think of an excuse, Natalia stepped forward and made her way out to where the rest of the guests danced without waiting for his response, not leaving Arthur with much of a choice.
"That is very kind of you, thank you," Ivan said, still with the same grin, to which the other relented.
Swallowing the rest of his drink, he placed the empty glass on a nearby table and followed his partner. They took their positions, his hand on her firm waist, hers resting like a feather on his shoulder, and they began to step in time together.
"You look lovely this evening," he complimented, not sure whether he preferred awkward conversation or awkward silence.
"My thanks," her accent managed to make the words harsh, almost an attack.
"The weather is pleasant," he tried again.
"Mild for the winter," she replied with the same tone as before.
With the blunt replies he received, Arthur assumed she was comfortable in silence, something that suited him just fine.
Natalia's violet eyes stared up through thick lashes as strikingly white as the hair that streamed down her back. Contrast with the black silk of her gown she was a haunting picture of gaunt beauty, enough to take one's breath away, but Arthur could never find her truly appealing. Not to say she wasn't stunning, with her face as perfect as a porcelain doll, but everything about her was too stern. Her eyes contained no light behind their glassy surface, her dancing was precise but mechanical.
Despite being roughly the same height, they managed to make it through the whole dance without making eye contact and Arthur all but sighed in relief when it was over. He wasn't a terrible dancer, he was actually quite graceful, but, dear God, it made him feel like a twat. Bowing again to the straight-faced woman, who gave a rigid curtsey in return, the British nation was eager to leave the floor, however, before he could do so, a breathy voice behind him spoke.
"Would you care to dance?" asked the tiny Liechtenstinian girl, her bottle green eyes staring up like she was terrified of him.
Surely it was impossible to say no to her puppy dog look, not to mention a steely looking Swiss man glowered at them from the corner.
"Of course, my dear," the reluctant Brit smiled warmly, taking her fragile hand.
Again, he swept onto the floor with is new partner. Holding her, Arthur was scared of snapping her dainty midriff in two. Her giggle was sickeningly sweet honey that dribbled from her mouth in unending bouts as they spun. She began to talk about something but Arthur was barely able to catch a word she said over the music as her voice was so high and timid, nodding every now and then to feign attention. Dancing with her was more like dragging a damp cloth around than dancing, and a very frilly cloth at that, her body covered in pink bows and ribbons in a ridiculous fashion. Over to one side, the politician that stared in their direction raised his glass with a smile of approval that only made Arthur hate his guts all the more. Listening to the girl's incessant chatter, the disgruntled Brit subconsciously compared the two women he had danced with, not sure if he'd rather an emotionless statue or a dormouse that never shut up. Nothing against them, he knew they were both highly respectable ladies, but events like this seemed to bring out the worst in people.
The spinning was beginning to make Arthur dizzy and he was relieved when the music quietened to show it was the end of another piece. He bowed once more while the infantile girl before him ducked a curtsey, puffy lace engulfing her, and then skipped away. Standing still momentarily, the island nation allowed his eyes to regain focus so he might find his way off the floor in a straight line. However, in doing this he left himself open to attack from behind.
"Enjoying yourself?" a third, easily recognisable, female voice lilted, purposefully making him jump.
"Well the night just improved immensely," Arthur smiled for the first time that evening as he about faced to see his old friend.
Elizabetta tutted humorously, but her expression was warm and genuine. "Stop it, you old charmer, you'll get me in trouble," she joked.
"Have you not missed me?" the Englishman asked, suavely jesting.
The mischievous grin that was never far off the emerald eyed woman's lips crept out without much persuasion as she held out a fair hand for the other to take. "Like the winter misses the sun," she quipped, as witty as ever.
Although Arthur was ready to sit down he was happy to spend a few moments in private conversation with the Hungarian woman, and so, took the extended hand and allowed himself to be led out once again.
"How are you finding it?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"I can think of things I would rather be doing," the other replied honestly, casting a glance over the hall.
Frowning in mock offense, Elizabetta pouted her lips in an endearing way. "I put a lot of effort into this evening, you know. You should be more appreciative."
They began to move in their own dance, not paying attention to what everyone else was doing, as was usually the case with the two of them. Arthur didn't mind being led, too lazy himself to put in the work, and stepped alongside his partner's movements with ease.
"I thought your dear Roderich had planned tonight," Arthur was semi sarcastic in speaking about the Austrian but didn't want to offend his friend and so was careful in how far he could take it.
A sigh escaped the brunette woman, her eyes rolling without her command. "You know what he is like," she muttered, "his priorities are not as…cohesive as they should be."
Arthur gave a snorted laugh but stifled it instantly at the look he was given, however, on the two pairs of green eyes meeting, the laughter escaped them both, loud enough for heads to turn in their direction.
"And you call yourself a gentleman," Elizabetta scolded gently.
"I don't believe I ever gave myself the title," the pirate smirked, devilishly, "nor do I intend to live up to it." He could have sworn, though it may have been a trick of the candle light, that her cheeks grew a shade pinker in an innocent blush.
Arthur could easily have fallen for a woman like Eliza and had thought on it many times. There was a spark to her, absent in others of high society he had met. So carefree with a vivacity in everything she did and a face sweet as blossom to match. Although, in his mind, they may have made a handsome match, Arthur knew genuine friendship was too precious to squander on the premise of lude fantasies and so would never act on his thoughts. That and, of course, coming between her and her current political ally in any way could jeopardise the prosperous state of the continent.
Clearing her throat, the subtle blush faded, the Hungarian brought up a subject she knew the other would be happy to talk about. "So, what of your adorable little colonies? We hardly hear anything from you these days."
"Everything seems to be going well at present," Arthur had to be mindful not to come across as arrogant, "a promising future."
"Good, I am glad," Elizabetta complimented, segwaying into the thing she had been wanting to say. "Speaking of not hearing from you, a certain neighbour of yours has been asking of your whereabouts."
"What do you- oh," Arthur's lip curled in distain, "what does that prick want?"
Slightly amused by his reaction, Elizabetta continued, "he only asked if we had heard from you and I told him no, that is all."
"That's all?" the Brit asked, raising a heavy eyebrow.
Catching his eye, Eliza made a face the other recognised and took a hissing breath in before exhaling a long "Well…"
"God damn you, Lizzy," Arthur's unimpressed face showed he knew what was coming.
"It just sort of slipped through in conversation, I couldn't not invite him, I'm sorry," she moped with her most innocent face.
Shaking his head, Arthur narrowed his eyes in frustration at the mere thought of the obnoxious Frenchman.
"Well, that's just perfect," he complained, "exactly what I needed to complete the night."
Rolling her eyes, the Germanic woman took on a tone of motherly scolding. "To be honest, Arthur, we have all been wondering. You go galivanting off for months at a time without a word to your friends," again, she pouted, but this time with a hint of genuine hurt, "it is quite rude, you know."
A twinge of guilt tweaked at the Brit at her neglected expression and his irritation dissipated. He would never mean to upset her like that.
"I'm sorry, Liz, I didn't think you would worry," he apologised with sincerity, "but that twat is not my friend and, therefore, does not need to be enquiring about me. And, furthermore, you should not be giving him that information."
His stern look went ignored by the other who looked over his shoulder to the entrance of the hall with a smirking grin stretching across her cherry pink lips.
"Too late," she sang, triumphantly beaming.
"Oh God," Arthur muttered, knowing what that leer was for.
Discretely glancing back in the direction of the door he saw what he had expected as the flouncing figure waltzed in, instantly schmoozing his way through the crowd.
Elizabetta chuckled lightly. "And what are you two fighting about at the moment?" she asked in amusement.
Keeping his back to the door, Arthur tried to hide himself so as not to be detected by his stalker. "The fact that he's French and I'm not," he answered.
With a sigh, the other shook her head in a display of exasperation but understood nonetheless.
"You boys," she breathed.
From the other end of the sizeable hall there came a shattering crash, disturbing the tranquillity of the room, followed by frantic, Austrian screeching, as a path cleared for the irrational host, making his way toward the offending mishap. Both nations stopped moving to watch, Arthur keeping in hysterics at the shade of red the screaming pianist had gone, Eliza rather disgruntled at the unfolding situation.
Her shoulders sagging in resignation, she let her hands slip from Arthur's shoulders with an apologetic smile. "I should make sure my husband does not murder a member of staff," she half joked, "find me before you leave."
"I will," Arthur promised, her demanding look turning to a sweet giggle as she turned and walked briskly to her partner's aid.
The green bustle she wore disappeared in with the crowd and the British nation smiled to himself. They were a seemingly mismatched pair but as long as his friend was happy he wouldn't say a word.
His human shield gone, he needed to find somewhere to lie low so the two men that were seemingly obsessed with him couldn't track him down. Somewhere he could sit and drink his way through the night seemed the most appealing option and so, acquiring his third beverage, he discretely slipped through the loitering crowd to a table, partly covered by a velvet curtain.
Dropping down into the plush seat with a huff of relief to be away from all those ghastly people, Arthur gazed out the window into the walled garden of the palace while he sipped his drink. A full, winter moon glowed soft white over the neatly kept blooms, as though the hard work of the gardeners should be seen at all times but this was not what he looked at as his own reflection blocked his view. Nose wrinkling in disgust at the mirrored image that copied him, Arthur couldn't help but hate what he was faced with. That silk shirt with shining buttons, the jacket that cost more than his average citizen's yearly salary, the shoes he could barely walk in. That wasn't him.
Deciding he had faced enough of the night sober, the sour Englishman drank the rest of his glass' contents in one gulp then pulled a metal flask from his jacket pocket. He had pre-empted the need for rum before he had left and was grateful he had, the familiar burn a comfort, reminding him of his crew mates and his poor ship still docked at the royal harbour, being ransacked by the navy, no doubt. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.
Leaning back into his seat, the nation allowed himself to relax slightly, now out of view. He looked through the ceiling height window at the darkened landscape and sighed in boredom, his breath fogging up the glass like a wedding veil. Wiping it away with his sleeve he saw in the reflection that he was no longer alone and cringed as an arm leant on the back of his chair, purring crooning in a French accent, smooth as cream. "Naughty boy. Why do you hide from me?"
I promise it will get dirtier but this is romance not straight up smut, just keep that in mind because it won't be utterly filthy I just wanted to be safe with the rating, sorry if I mislead anyone. Without breaking this into chapters it would look really long and tedious to read so I thought it better to break it up in some way but it's not going to be long, like two parts probably. I love writing stuff about different time periods so please let me know what you think. Thanks for reading xx
