The morning was bright and the fresh earthy smell of dew filled the girl with a sense of harmony. Being completely at peace wasn't her favorite feeling. Preferring the excitement one gets from adrenaline rushing through your blood on the way to battle. But that was a long time ago she sighed in disappointment. She simply stood there with broom in hand enjoying how the gentle breeze blew here chestnut brown hair and made the hem of her skirt flow like the graceful waves of an everlasting ocean. After enjoying this bittersweet moment she was brought back to reality by the faint background of music that can only be produced by the graceful dancing of well practiced fingers against the keyboard of an ancient piano. She glanced over her shoulder at the house she called home and began to mumble a song that she learned as a child.

"If only, if only,"
The woodpecker sighs,
the bark on the trees was as soft as the skies.
While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely;
crying to the moo-oo-oon.
If only, if only…"

She missed the days of her childhood and adventures she had when her family entertained the idea she was a boy. But like all good things it never lasted she signed once again in silent sadness. As she became taller and her body started rearranging she started to notice the differences between her and her male companions. It frustrated her that she was twice the man any of them were but was brushed aside just because she didn't have "guy parts". Only one boy didn't care or simply didn't have the common sense notice this fact and she was grateful for it. He managed to prolong the illusion.

Her mother on the other hand became impatient at one point and decided whipped her into the idea of a proper lady. Her eyebrows were plucked, her organs were crushed under corsets, and her feet were force into uncomfortably small heels. Lastly her face was caked with heavy makeup because part of a woman's charm was her false beauty. All of this for the sake of being able to find a man of a good name decent enough to marry her.

But even though she was happy with her husband, there will always a piece of her heart that will never truly be his, for it will belong to the silver haired wild child that fought alongside her in their battles against the dangerous unknowns of the world, mostly the nasty neighborhood tabby cat. The one they often used for target practice, she chuckled.

All of a sudden as she simply hummed the tone of the song she noticed the music in the background stopped and her grip on the broom tighten when an argument erupted inside. Her heart began to race in anticipation and she smoothed the frizzes from her hair trying to pull a nonchalant front. She knew fairly well who had come and she went back to sweeping trying to suppress the smug grin that was creeping to her lips. Right on time as usual.

The door from behind was kicked open with a slam and she didn't even flinch in surprise before she gave her guest an artificial curious glance. There they were those blood red eyes that burned with a never ending fire that she loved so much. He was no longer an empire and was more or less beat down and slowly becoming a memory to those who once knew him…except for her. He was angry and ducked away to the nearest exit not wanting her to see him in his latest unawesome state. He had swore to the brunette that he would not accept her pity even when it wasn't being offered in the first place.

"I'm sure you will make a comeback," she smiled reassuringly giving a good nature punch to the shoulder because she knew she could get away with it with him. Austria frowned on anything that wasn't up to his standard of behavior. So she treasured those tom-boy gestures whenever she had the chance.

"You're damn right," he scoffed insulted that she stated such an obvious fact. But he would never realize how far he was from a comeback until reaching the point he was in now. And they both knew it. She watched after the albino with sad gentle eyes as he treaded off to the distance forest. He will never be the same and eventually be nothing more than a figure of the past depicted only by history books. No country or empire last forever. His time simply came faster than the rest of them. She looked down at the dust brushing against her boots before coming up with the second verse of her song.

"If only, if only… The moon speaks no reply,
Reflecting the sun and all that's gone by.
Be strong, my weary wolf;
turn around boldly.
Fly high, my baby bird—
My angel, my only."

Little did the brunette know that the Austrian she married was watching her from afar feeling a sense of loss as he pulled the blinds of the window to a close.

Did this come off as fluffy? It's my first one. The song belongs to Louis Sachar the writer of Holes. I wanted to write this for a while. I own nothing. Constructive criticism welcomed.