Hooray for Austria & Hungary! Man I love these two. Also a fun fact about this, I got the idea by sitting underneath a piano…sounds bizarre, but it will make sense very soon! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I do own a piano.
Looking back at the events, Hungary still couldn't place exactly why she had been overcome with such a desire to clean at so late an hour. It was past midnight, the entire house was fast asleep, and she undoubtedly had a big day coming up what with the cooking, cleaning, and all the other housework that would need attending to. And of course, little Italy would no doubt prove to be more work than everything else combined with his crying, clumsiness, begging for pasta, and pleading with Hungary to stop Holy Roman Empire from "making him become one with him", whatever that meant. Just thinking of all the trials that the next day would bring should have sent Hungary straight to her bed, but for some unknown yet unshakeable reason she was marching determinedly down the halls, rag in hand.
She worked quickly and quietly, and soon the kitchen, dining room, main hall, and most of the hallways were sparkling. She had to admit, it was much easier to get things done when there were no children running around, foreign diplomats trudging through the halls, or much more frequently as of late, angry people complaining about the current affairs of the country. Hungary sighed. It seemed everyone was on edge.
Her tidying travels eventually brought her to the grand ballroom. Due to the magnificent grand piano inside it, it was the room that her employer Austria spent the most time in, and conversely the room that she herself spent the least. Hungary would never quite admit it to herself, but she definitely had a soft spot where the musician was concerned; she had as of late found herself more prone to blushing, stuttering, and an increased lack of balance whenever she was in his presence, and therefore had commanded herself to stay away from him as much as possible.
But Mr. Austria is certainly asleep right now. She thought. Now's the best time to tidy up in here.
Cautiously she moved about the room, careful not to bump into anything as she dusted, lest the sound magnify in the huge space and wake someone. As soon as all the other furniture was clean, Hungary turned to the splendid piano that was the main feature in the room. Walking over to it, she noted that despite how often they were used, the ivory keys had barely a nick in them, and the piano itself gleamed. It didn't have a speck of dust on it. For some reason Hungary found herself slightly annoyed. She had hardly ever been in here, how had this piano stayed so pristine? She couldn't believe Italy was even allowed in the room lest he break something; he couldn't have been the one to clean it. Had Austria been wiping it himself?
Determined to find something, anything, that was imperfect with the piano, she dropped to her knees.
I wonder, the nation thought as she peered underneath the instrument, has anyone ever dusted down here?
She doubted that even the eternally orderly Austria would resort to crawling under the heavy piano to clean; he would probably say it was "undignified" to do so. With that thought in mind, Hungary inched her way underneath. It was indeed quite dusty down there, and she had to stifle a sneeze as she wiped away the dirt. The underside of the piano was full of levers that apparently connected the piano's foot pedals to the piano itself. Her curiosity overpowering her cautiousness, Hungary reached to touch one of the levers. She stopped short as a soft sound made her whip around.
Footsteps!
Someone was walking down the hallway towards the ballroom!
Oh no oh no oh no oh no! Hungary thought anxiously. Who could that be? Why are they up so late? I can't let them see me under here, I probably look ridiculous! She quickly debated trying to get out from under the piano, but before she could act on the thought, the footsteps slowed and the door opened with a small creak. Hungary could only see the newcomer from the knees down but she definitely wasn't moving to get a better look, because she knew right away exactly who it was: Austria. She felt her cheeks growing hot.
Oh please tell me he only forgot something! Please Mr. Austria, get whatever it is and leave!
But it seemed that fate was not on her side, because the other nation headed straight towards the piano and sat down. This was not good. Her employer was apparently as restless as she, but instead of cleaning he had chosen to play his beloved piano to pass the time. If she was not trying to be invisible, Hungary would have sighed. Austria would undoubtedly play for quite some time, and seeing as her opportunity to get out from under the piano had passed quite some time ago, she would now be forced to remain crouched underneath it until he was finished.
Already she could feel her legs start to moan in protest as her body tried to tell her that she definitely was not supposed to stay in this position for an extended period of time. Trying to ignore her aching legs, she listened to Austria's playing. It was a soft song, but underneath the piano the sound magnified itself. As the foot pedals were pushed, the levers underneath moved and shifted faster and faster as the rhythm of the song increased.
What would someone say if they saw us now? The nation thought. Mr. Austria and I.
It would indeed be an odd sight- Austria playing in the dead of night, unaware that underneath his piano crouched his maid, blushing furiously, wincing in pain, clutching a dust rag, and trying her hardest to stay unseen.
Despite the pain her scrunched position was causing, Hungary found herself becoming entranced by the sounds echoing around her. Austria's music was always beautiful, but at that moment it seemed ethereal and almost…familiar, like a half forgotten lullaby from childhood. She wondered what it was called. The song glided smoothly to a crescendo, then changed key, becoming somber. Somehow it seemed deeper than she had ever heard him play before, and much more personal.
What is Mr. Austria feeling right now?
The melody was soft and lulling, and her thoughts began to wander. She had to stifle a yawn; it was so late…
Thunk!
Hungary started. In her daze she had inadvertently pushed down on one of the foot pedals, causing a strange twang to echo through the room. The music abruptly stopped and suddenly the maid was face to face with Austria, who had bent down to check the pedal. They were inches apart, and there was a shocked silence as each stared at the other, completely at a loss for words. A moment passed, then another, but Hungary couldn't rip her gaze away from the violet eyes that continued to remain locked with hers.
Austria was the first to break the stillness, and despite his shocked face, his voice retained its natural calm.
"Miss Hungary…" he shook his head, as if trying to wake himself from a particularly bizarre dream,
"I must inquire as to what you are doing underneath my piano at this hour."
If her cheeks had been red before they were surely burning a hole through her face at that moment. She tried to form a coherent sentence.
"I…well, uh, c-cleaning?" It came out as more of a question than an answer. She held up the dirty rag she had been clutching as proof. Austria glanced between it and her, clearly trying to piece together why on earth she was dusting the underside of the piano in the middle of the night. Apparently not reaching a satisfactory conclusion but unwilling to pursue further explanation at such a late hour, he stood up slowly and held a hand down to her.
"I believe this ordeal has shown that we should both be in bed."
Hungary blushed, although she wasn't sure whether it was from the reprimand or the fact that she was holding his hand, even if only for a few moments. Wordlessly she followed him out the door and down the dark hallway toward her room.
Wait…
The nation was confused. Why was Austria coming with her? Her room was in the east wing of the house; his in the west. It made no sense for him to accompany her yet here he was, striding in front of her, occasionally glancing behind to check that she was still with him.
After climbing a small flight of stairs, the pair stopped in front of the simple wooden door that marked the entrance to Hungary's room. Austria softly opened the door, and then stood aside so she could walk past him. She didn't move.
"Y-you didn't have to walk me back here…It was out of your way, I mean-" she broke off, unsure of whether she should be questioning him or thanking him.
"I didn't have to." He agreed simply. "Good night Miss Hungary." He made to walk away, but stopped as her voice piped up again behind him.
"Mr. Austria… what was the music you were playing earlier? It sounded…familiar."
A strange expression flickered across his normally reserved face. And was he… blushing?
"Liszt." With that, he turned again and walked quickly back down the staircase, leaving Hungary still staring after him, a small smile on her tired face.
A/N: Eine Kleine Nachtmusik is German for "A little night music" or 'a little serenade". It also is a famous song composed by Mozart.
Liszt is a famous Hungarian composer. Hmm… why on Earth would Austria be playing his music so late at night..? ;D