Full summary: One tiny, microscopic change permanently alters the course of history. Prussia is unhappily engaged, Austria fights his own feelings, and Hungary starts a war. All must make decisions they would rather not, be it turning a blind eye to murder or stabbing a friend in the back. Genswap.
Note: By Genswap, I mean that I have 'swaped' two character's genders. You will find out who in all due time, though you've probably already guessed. There will be blood, talk of the menstrual cycle, more cursing and perhaps attemted rape in later chapters. You know the drill; Don't like, Don't read.
It was a bright and sunny day, something that the king found to be quite ironic. Rain would have better suited the mood. Even a light covering of clouds would prove to be more fitting than the bright, sparkling sun that peeked over the hills. He sighed. This was going to be hard enough as it was and he certainly didn't need the weather to mock him too.
A stifled shout was heard from somewhere on the other side of the door, the ripping and pulling and straightening finally getting to the nation inside. Friedrich had to give his charge credit; he himself would have been begging for mercy hours earlier. He had been blessed with a strong nation.
Hopefully strong enough for what was to come.
They would both need to be.
After a few more minutes of aimlessly staring out the window, the door finally opened and one of the maids stepped out, closing it quietly behind her. Freidrich stood a tad straighter and tried his best to not look too unapproachable. "How did it go?" He asked as casually as he could. The maid sighed, flattening the wrinkles in her pink dress.
"The deed is done, Sir. Quite well. You will be beyond pleased with the results." Freidrich frowned slightly. He was often given responses such as those when on the subject of his nation and they were usually used in jest, the nation's behavior beyond famous to those who worked in the palace. Now, however, was not a time to enjoy a good joke at anyone's expense, especially not Prussia's.
"Am I to accept that as an answer?" He asked sternly, any attempts at nonchalance falling like leaves in autumn. His arms crossed tightly over his chest and his foot tapped against the cold stone floor.
"N-no, Sir! I-I mean yes Sir!" The maid stuttered, curtsying lowly. "I-it truly has been done well. There was surprisingly little resistance."
The king frowned. Little resistance? That didn't sound like the Prussia he knew at all. "Did you put something in this afternoon's tea then?" He queried, his foot taping more and more quickly as his patience began to thin.
"No sir! I-I believe your lectures have finally began to sink in, is all!"
Noticing her tight and frightened demeanor, the king sighed. Fine. Obviously the maids were just as tightly wound as he was, and he would be unable to work any information from this one if she was in such a state. Running his fingers along the side of his powdered wig, he dismissed her. If he was going to know of the condition of his Nation he was going to have to go in there and see for himself.
Positioning himself directly in front of the door to the 'Awesome Prussian Lair', he knocked sharply.
And received no reply.
He expected as much.
Again, he knocked, this time louder, and accompanied his knocks with a beckoning call. "Prussia? May I come in?"
A muffled "No!" and the sounds of shifting fabric greeted him from around the other side. Well, at least he knew that he was not being ignored, which was better than many other similar situations he could site from his 38 years.
"Come now, please let me in." Another 'no' rang through the air, this time sterner, harder, and with more conviction. "If you do not acquiesce I plan on coming in any way," He informed. When he heard nothing from beyond the door he turned the knob and pushed his way in.
Prussia's bedroom was a curious place. Though it very closely matched the nation's personality, it didn't match the part of it that was openly displayed. The feisty nation always tried to project an air of power, cockiness, and a devil-may-care attitude, but inside was just as soft and malleable as any other. The room was filled to the brim with hundreds of years of do-dads and knick-knacks that were likely picked up off of traders or bartered away from gypsies in the many military campaigns the nation had been on. The armoire was large and friendly in appearance, worn from years of use yet more vintage than out of style. The rugs were made of the finest Chinese silk and the curtains that hung by the large, open balcony were hand woven. The frame of the body mirror was intricately carved to mimic the vines that one would find in an untamed forest, painted green and white by what Friedrich could only assume were exceptionally skilled hands.
The hour-glass shaped mannequin in the corner of the room presently donned Prussia's preferred uniform, which meant that the nation would be wearing what Freidrich had picked out.
There were stuffed toys piled on a large, canopy bed bordered by royal purple and red veils to symbolically protect that who slept within. Who was currently attempting to hide amongst its perfectly fluffed pillows.
Freidrich sat on the edge of the large bed, causing the other side to puff up slightly, exposing the top of the nation's head. "Sit up," the new king commanded, knowing full well that the nation did not plan on listening. He decided to try using flattery, knowing that a good ego-stroking usually led to a compliant Prussia. "Come on, sit up. Let me see that beautiful face." As he predicted, Prussia began to move, slowing pushing up and them twisting around to face the king.
Fredrich smiled. "Much better," he said, standing up and moving towards the body mirror. "Now let's go look at the whole thing, shall we?" Prussia moaned again but nonetheless complied, moving to stand next to the king. Freidrich put his hands on her shoulders and smiled, looking the form he so adored over in the mirror.
She truly was beautiful.
A smile worked its way onto the ruler's lips. "Would you look at that? There was a woman under all of that leather and metal after all." Prussia did not respond in kind. He would have expected something along the lines of him not having a man under all of his lace and 'general froofy-ness'.
The dress was long and tinted blue with a sturdy, lacy bodice. The trim of the bodice was a dark, Prussian blue as well as the cuffs of the long sleeves and the embroidered eagle near the bottom. Golden buttons held the collar closed and trailed down a few inches between her breasts, the very same buttons serving as cufflinks and fastens for the back. It was beautiful on the rack but even more so on such a beautiful woman. And was she wearing a corset, too? Friedrich would have to congratulate the maid from earlier. It was surprising she was still alive after all she had put this feisty knight through.
Her figure was slight but not too delicate, just what a man of the day looked for in a woman, and her face was as radiant as the morning sun. The cherry red paste spread across her lips made her look even younger than her body pretended to be, the rouge on her cheeks doing the same. Her long, platinum-blond hair was still a disaster but that was most likely because of Prussia's apparent attempt to asphyxiate herself in her pillows.
"You are stunning," He told her, cupping her cheek with a gloved hand. "A real catch."
"I know." She spat, pouting. "I'm fucking gorgeous. Most beautiful woman alive. Most eligible bachelorette. Yadda yadda."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Friedrich said, choosing to ignore her less-than-amiable choice of wording.
"It is a bad thing, Fritz!" She exclaimed, turning away from her reflection to face him. "How the hell is that stuck up, sexually frustrated, piano-screwing priss going to resist this fine piece of ass?" She gestured to herself and swayed her hips a little bit for emphasis. Fritz couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction to all of this. It was so utterly Prussia that he shouldn't have been surprised in the slightest. "Are you laughing? This isn't funny." She stomped loudly before falling to the ground and crossing her arms with a loud 'harumph'.
But it was funny. It was oh, so funny. Not only Prussia, but the whole situation. The fact that the female nation had even consented to considering to agree to such a proposition was a miracle in itself, the actual execution of the deal something having have been channeled through divine intervention. And Friedrich, who had sworn years ago at the grave of his dearest confidant never to marry, was going to be going through with it as well. He couldn't help but laugh heartily at them both.
That is, until he heard a loud sniff from where his nation sat on the floor. She wasn't…crying, was she? No, no she couldn't, wouldn't…but she was, he realized as he crouched beside her.
He rubbed her shoulder for a minute before finally sitting beside her and pulling her into a warm embrace. She didn't shy away; rather, she pressed her face into his shoulder and allowed herself a moment of weakness. There was no sobbing or whining, only silent tears.
Friedrich had learned early on that Prussia was not an emotional nation. She was strong and proud and extremely self-dependent, probably stemming from the time she spent in her youth masquerading as a boy. She tried her very hardest to show no fear, to allow nothing to shake her, but deep down, underneath all of that, she had real, tangible emotions. Very strong ones at that. It was rare that she express them so openly. Friedrich assumed that he was the only person on the planet to ever have the opportunity to see her at her weakest.
"I don't want to marry him, Fritz." She whispered once she regained her composure and began to wipe the saline tears from her eyes. "I really don't."
So that was what this was about. It all made sense. Historically, the two were rarely on good terms, and from what he had heard, Austria himself was more than a little snobbish. Prussia was so independent that the mere idea of being bound eternally to another was probably devastating, but to a man she had little – if no – interest in? He could only imagine how she was feeling.
"You may not even have to," Fritz consoled. "They could say no. And let's not forget that you're not the only one selling their soul with this deal. I have to actually ask for a Lady's hand, you simply have to hold out yours and hope Austria takes it."
"But I don't want him to take it, Old Man. I want him to laugh in my face and turn me away."
The king rolled his eyes. "As do I, my dear. You know I only ever want what is best for you." He released his hold on the girl and rose to his feet helping her up with a hand on her elbow and her waist. He pretended not to hear the mumbled 'that's what I'm afraid of'. "Think about it for a second though; do you really think that they would accept our proposition?"
Prussia considered this. Fritz was going to offer to the young Duchess his hand in marriage in exchange for her stepping out of the succession. If all went according to plan, the marriage would be sealed with a military alliance between the Kingdom of Prussia and the Austrian empire. Though the two human representations would not be married under the name of the church, politically they would be forced to unite, to spend their days together, to share a bed, to sign a piece of paper promising fidelity and everything else that a marriage entailed. It may as well have been a marriage. For all intents and purposes, Prussia and Austria would have to be considered an item.
But…
Though Prussia had never met the duchess before, she had heard stories of her steadfast assurance and against-the-grain attitude. Though Prussia as a nation disagreed with her succession to regency, the king was aware that Maria Beilschmidt envied her for her bravery in the face of such a chauvinistic world.
In other words, there really was no way that this whole marriage thing was actually going to happen. Maria Theresa would not allow it. No, she – of the mighty Hapsburg family – would stand her ground and say 'No!' to marriage and subservice to a man, thereby solving Prussia's (and Friedrich's) problem for her (them).
She smiled.
As did Fritz. He had come to this conclusion long ago, when he had first proposed the idea. He was obligated to go through with it, however, not only to show the rest of Europe that he would rather settle arguments peacefully than with violence but as his own private jab to the ways of his dead father. He was desperate to prove himself to be the better man, and this was just the way to do so.
"Alright," the nation said. "I feel a little better about this now." She frowned, however, and shifted around in her dress, reaching her hand in through the top and pulling her breasts up a bit. "But damn, this is so fucking uncomfortable. Somebody needs to find a way to keep my boobs up. Seriously, without the bandages I look like a fucking grandma."
Fritz sighed at the familiarity of it all and took her hands in his own. Their eyes met and he spoke; "You could never look like a grandma, my precious child." Prussia blushed as he pressed his lips to her knuckles. He took his duties as the first servant of his state exceptionally seriously. "And I'll have you know that most women don't bind themselves like you do. They learn to deal with having breasts."
The Prussian's face burned red and she opened her mouth a little to lick her lips, but closed it abruptly when she remembered the lipstick. "Yeah, well, I'm not most women."
Friedrich chuckled. "No, my dear, you most certainly are not. Now come, let's fix up this mop before we head out." He fingered her silky white hair and pulled a knot around for her to see.
"It's not a mop! And I don't feel like it. If you want to, there's a brush on my end table." She turned her head away and suddenly found her freshly manicured nails more interesting than he. Obviously, this was one of Prussia's many 'cries for affection', as Friedrich had dubbed them. Prussia was boisterous and loud but prone to illusions of disconnectedness. She craved touch as a bear did honey and Fritz was very inclined to indulge her. If, for some obscure and incomprehensible reason, their proposition was accepted, it would be a very long while before the two next shared a moment of such intimacy.
After retrieving the brush, the king led his nation to her bed and took seat behind her. With slow, even strokes, he brushed through her waist-length locks, following the brush with his fingers to be sure all of the knots were gone. Prussia sighed and leaned into his touch, humming contentedly. It took a while for the king to finish, but when he did he was quite pleased with his work. Before he announced the completion of his task, he pulled a ribbon off the side of Prussia's end table and used it to sweep her hair into a long, silver ponytail, leaving her bangs to frame her face.
"There," he said. "All done."
"You sure?" Prussia asked, rubbing the side of her face into his shoulder. "I think it's still a bit messy."
"Believe me dear, it is not nearly as messy as it was. And you really wouldn't be you without a few fly-aways and tangles."
"Mmm, I don't want fly-aways and tangles."
Friedrich scoffed. "You don't want fly-aways and tangles? Since when have you ever cared abou-"
"I'd much rather have you." Fritz's eyes widened and his face began to heat up.
"No no," he scolded, trying to discreetly put some distance between he and his nation. This type of comment often led to actions which led to…well, the cultured gentleman would not speak of it. "None of that. We have to be going. It will take quite a while to get to Austria and I promised-"
Suddenly, the platinum-blond turned on him, her carmine irises boring into his head. "But Fritz," she said, pouting in a way that made her almost irresistible to the king. "I want to. And who knows? This could be the last opportunity we ever have. You wouldn't pass it up, would you?"
The king backed up, pushing himself into the backboard of the bed frame. Prussia attempted to crawl sultrily towards him but was hindered by her dress and forced to simply skooch. As swiftly and with as much grace as he could muster, Friedrich pushed himself off of Prussia's bed, landing with a thud on her floor. He stood up quickly as to not be followed down and straightened himself out, dusting his trousers with his hands. By the time he looked up again, Prussia was on him, her poufy dress pushing painfully against his chest and lungs as she forced him up against a wall. In all of his years of knowing the finicky Germanic nation he had learned that despite her small stature she was incredibly strong and often overpowered him. He had found himself under her on more than one of their raunchier, erm, escapades. Actually, he found himself under her in most of their escapades, and was often the one sore afterwards. So he was perfectly aware of how fruitless fighting against her would be. Not that he ever really minded.
And as delicious as the idea was, Friedrich knew that now was not the time. Not at all. He had – no, they had a place to be, were both ready now, and would not have time to re-do themselves. "Maria-" He started, than flinched when he realized that using her birth name would only serve to further excite her. "Prussia, dear, we mustn't get ahead of ourselves. We simply do not have the time to…" The nation smiled innocently at him – a smile that honestly didn't fit her overall disposition – and traced his jaw line with her index finger. He pressed his head farther into the back of the wall to avoid her touch. "If you take off that dress and corset we're going to have to go through the process of putting it all on again!"
This stopped the sultry woman. The unfitting smile fell from her lips and she straightened herself out, her brows furrowing together as the gears turned in her mind. After a minute she sighed and pulled herself completely away. Fritz sighed in relief, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
"I guess you're right. I…I don't want to have to go through that again." She shuddered.
Fritz pulled himself from the wall and straightened his wig. "Of course I'm right," he squeaked before clearing his throat and repeating himself. "I am the king, after all. I'm right by default." The nation rolled her eyes.
"Now, let's be going. If we hurry we'll be able to sneak some sweet things from the kitchen for the trip," He continued, reached out to take his nation's hand. Prussia appeared ready to take it but instead pulled away and darted to the mannequin in the corner on the room. She slid the sheath of her rapier out from her belt and into the silken ribbon tied around her waist and pulled her bicorn hat from the doll's lifeless head. She held it faithfully in front of her as she returned to grab Friedrich's hand and drag him out of the room after her.
She glanced behind her to see Friedrich staring at her with a curious expression and answered his unasked question. "You don't think me fool enough to go unarmed, do you? Proposition or not, I can't look weak in front of that prissy-pants pianist."
"No, no," he said, shaking his head and stumbling over his own feet. "I understand the sword. Why the hat?"
She smiled widely and her lipstick cracked, "To remind him I'm not a lady."
"How is a hat going to remind him that you're not a lady?" He asked as he regained his balance and quickened his pace. He received only hearty laughter ending in a stifled snake-like cackle that, to him, was more frightening than feminine.
Friedrich rubbed the bridge of his nose in agitation. How much longer was this going to take, exactly? How much longer did he need to be in this tiny, enclosed space with his hyperactive, extremely bored nation? He knew for a fact that any amount of time would probably be too long. Already they had been traveling for what seemed like more than a lifetime and Prussia…oh, dear, sweet Prussia. She was fidgeting and squirming and trying her very hardest to sit still but was failing so, so miserably. The agitation was clear on her face as she, for the hundred-thousandth time, unbuttoned the top of her bodice to stick her hand in and pull her breasts into a more comfortable position. Friedrich assumed that this was the nervous habit that had encouraged her to start binding her chest; the habit she usually fell victim to now alternated between biting her nails and tugging at her hair. The king decided that these habits were much less…distracting.
Finally, the king had enough. "Prussia?" He sighed, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands. "Would you be so kind as to stop that?" The nation looked up at him questioningly and let her brain process his words. Her lips morphed into a scowl and she pulled her hand out of her dress and re-buttoned it, crossing her legs and leaning farther into the coach seat as she did. Distaste was spelt across her forehead.
"What's got your bloomers in a knot?" She mumbled as she folded her arms and rested her head against the window frame. Her bicorn sat atop her head, pressed firmly against her skull to keep it from flying away. Though Fritz had asked that she pack it along with her change of clothes for the ride back home, she insisted on wearing it the entire trip.
He sighed, sitting up and mimicking her posture but keeping his eyes trained on her. "I really shouldn't dignify that comment with a response."
Prussia scoffed. "You wear bloomers and you know it. I've seen your underwear drawer, and don't try to tell me that those are Wilhelmine's, she classier than letting her brother 'borrow' some."
Friedrich rolled his eyes. "Oh please, for all you know they could be yours."
"Oh please," she countered, "you should know that I don't wear bloomers. Stupid." She closed her eyes and leaned into the gentle wind blowing against her face, the lines in her otherwise perfect forehead turning into canyons. Friedrich could only wonder as to what she was thinking about. Whatever it was, it seemed to calm her, as after a few moments the fidgeting stopped and her breathing evened out.
They lapsed back onto silence, both choosing to focus on the comforting vibrations of the carriage as it pulled them into Austria than each other. Friedrich could not help but consider all of the disastrous possibilities. What waited for them in the south…he only barely dared to imagine! Maria Theresa was…she was…oh, he didn't even know! And to top it off he was nervous. Nervous that she would accept his proposal. Nervous that she would not. Either way, it was a loss. He really honestly doubted that the duchess would ever in her right mind accept, but…his nation was still growing. Prussia was still only learning to spread her metaphorical wings and understand that she didn't have to, erhm, as she would say, 'take everyone else's shit'.
But…but moving out of the clutches of Hapsburg control is what he had always strove for, not jumping back into it. Making an alliance with Austria would only cause their interference with Prussian affairs to increase.
…He was really starting to reconsider this whole thing entirely.
The two remained silent for a great many hours. Day turned to night and than day again. They shared a light meal and the sweets they had taken from the kitchens before they left, slept delicately, and for no reason other than to ask for a blanket or another biscuit did they speak to each other. Fritz assumed that it was because of how nervous they both were, or perhaps Prussia was sore at him for making her go through with this, even though it was with her consent. The sun set again and again the two napped, trying not to move too much and ruin their 'costumes'. It rose again. After what seemed like no time at all (in direct contrast to the first part of the ride) the coatchmaster turned around to inform the king that they would be arriving at Austria's personal manor in but two short hours. This sparked soft but important conversation. At least, in the eyes of the king.
"Can you at least try to act something like a lady, just while we speak with the duchess?" Prussia refused to meet his eyes. She glared angrily at the floor of the carriage, her lips curling into a disgusted grimace. "I understand that this will likely be a blow to your ego but it is imperative that you look like you're interested in this, at least for the duchess."
The nation growled softly under her breath, rolling back her shoulders as she tried to adjust her breasts without actually touching them. "I'm not a lady," she stressed, "I don't want to come across as one. I want her to know exactly who she's messing with."
"Believe me, my dear, she knows who she's messing with. Your reputation precedes you. We just need you to…to seem a little more approachable."
"I'm perfectly approachable! If you keep your distance and drop your weapons, I'm happy to have an audience with whoever wants to have an audience."
"You see!" He snapped, gesturing sharply in her direction. "That is the kind of attitude that the duchess can't see!"
Prussia leaned as far forward as she could. Though that was not very far given her current condition, her presence alone was enough to push Freidrich back in his seat. "Listen up, König, I don't give a fuck what that woman thinks of me. All I care about is Austria. And he can't see me being weak and-and-and subservient just because someone asked me to," She hissed.
"I'm not asking you to be subservient," He tried to console her, reaching out a hand to pat her shoulder. It was harshly slapped away. "I'm just asking you to be civil. Don't curse, don't insult her or her family, and please, try not to start any fights."
Prussia rolled her eyes, but said nothing right away. She bit her lower lip and scratched at her head. Finally, she looked her king in the eyes and stated with all the conviction she could muster, "I am not a tangerine," Friedrich blinked, taken aback, and opened his mouth to ask what in the name of the dear Lord was she talking about, but was silenced by her outstretched hand. "I don't exist to sate you. Just because you need me to act…that way, doesn't mean I will. I'm not going to pretend to be something I'm not, and I am not going to look weak in front of Austria. I don't care what Maria Theresa thinks of me, I don't care what she thinks of you, I don't care what she thinks of my lands, I will not do tricks to impress her." The finality of her tone was sincere, and as she concluded she closed her eyes and gave a stiff nod. Friedrich sighed and nodded as well.
"I understand," He said, "and I have all the more respect for you after seeing how fiercely you defend yourself, but I must ask. Please, please, no fist fights. I would rather us be able to leave Austria in a few days without a war breaking out, if you will." Prussia grimaced again and looked like she was about to deny him, but instead she simply nodded and sighed.
"Fine, Old Man, but you listen here! That priss deserves to have all of his goddamned fingers broken! So if I decide he needs a good thrashing to put him back in his place, so be it! Otherwise…yeah. I'll try not to get into any fights." A pinkish blush spread across her cheeks and she pulled her bicorn over her eyes to diffuse her embarrassment. "But only because it's you who asked."
Fritz smiled softly. Prussia was pig-headed at times and shockingly uncouth, but in his eyes she was absolutely perfect. Everything from her body to her personality was just as it should be. However, there were times when he wished she would act…more appropriately. He wished with all his heart that there was some way he could convey this to her without shoving his foot in his mouth or making it look like he wanted her to change. She often clashed with Wilhemine for that very reason; his sister was always trying to teach Prussia to behave in a way more becoming for a lady of her stature, and though she always meant well, Prussia interpreted it as the princess attempting to remedy some perceived personality deficiency.
And, of course, Prussia denied being a lady. In a way, she was not. She was more male than female when it came right down to it, and more soldier than anything else. He appreciated that, actually, as her military prowess was what had carried him through most of his years he spent under tutelage.
The carriage came to a sudden stop and Freidrich lurched forward. For the first time he noticed that they had finally arrived at the Austrian's manor home. It was large and extravagantly decorated, with gold gates and an excessive flower garden framing the walkway to the large red door on both sides. There were two large birdbaths that he could see, one with an actual self-pumping fountain in the middle. The grass was soft and well-kempt, the kind of lawn Friedrich would have liked to curl up on and stargaze. The house itself looked to be three stories, and if he had to estimate, at least twenty-five rooms. It was a welcoming, natural, earthy brown color and almost radiated 'home'. There were woodcarvings running up most of the surface, carved in a way similar to that of Prussia's bedroom mirror only instead of simple vines there seemed to be everything from musical notes to exotic animals. At some point his jaw must have slipped open because the slap of Prussia's hand against his chin and the painful 'click' of his teeth snapping together brought him back to his senses.
"Prissy-pants is a lousy show-off," Prussia growled as Fritz stepped out of the carriage, the door held open by his driver. He was about to continue forward when he remembered decorum, Friedrich. Just because Prussia is unwilling to act civilized doesn't mean that I can't distance myself from that.
He turned around and offered his arm as Prussia stepped out. She simply looked at him disdainfully and turned her nose, grabbing the edges of her dress forcefully and marching forward much in a manner akin to that in which a spoiled princess would deny an ugly suitor. I suppose, he though ironically, that I am not the only one putting on a show. He rushed forward and fell into pace next to her, linking their arms together and elbowing her slightly in the ribcage. He flinched as his funny-bone came into contact with the hard material of her corset. "Decorum," he whispered, despite their previous conversation. She glared at him from the corner of her eye before adjusting her bicorn with her free hand and turning up her nose even higher.
An Austrian guard stood at the gate, his uniform pristine and his face schooled into an expression of disdain. He pulled open the golden barriers separating the Prussian officials from the Austrian abode and the two, followed closely by the lone servant other than the coachmaster that they had brought with them from Friedrich's own home, began their second great journey of the fortnight. The path up to the door, where they presumed they would be greeted, appeared to be impossibly long. He sighed and glanced over at his nation. She had lowered her chin and now appeared to be biting the inside of her cheek. Her sword hung awkwardly at her side and bounced as she walked, clacking loudly against the ground, where clipped into her belt it would have swung gracefully with her hips. With her free hand, she adjusted her bicorn to sit more at the back of her head then set it at the hilt of her blade. She shook out her hair and settled her gaze straight ahead. If Friedrich didn't know her better he would say that she looked apprehensive, but that was likely only because she wasn't wearing her trademark smirk or that lascivious grin.
Soon they were able to see two blurred figures under the overhang at the front door. One appeared to be a woman, wearing a dress much larger and more uncomfortable-looking than even the one Prussia wore, the other a man of medium stature in decidedly feminine garb.
Something in Friedrich's gut twisted.
Undoubtedly, these were Maria Theresa and Austria. The woman and man he was to 'woo' with his proposition.
As they got closer he was better able to make out their features. Maria Theresa was even smaller than the woman at his arm, her frame delicate and fragile-looking as well as short. Her face was sharp and defined, her blue eyes shining distinctly from her powdered face. Austria was about average height for a man, his chocolate brown hair pushed away from his eyes, the only visible imperfection being a single cowlick near the part, sticking up awkwardly. He wore glasses, the king noted, and had mole near his chin. Or was it a birthmark? He wore a white conductors' coat over a white ruffled shirt. The large lapels were light lavender, matching his strangely colored eyes. Friedrich had never seen anybody with eyes of such a hue before, but then again, he had never seen anybody other than Prussia with eyes the color of blood. Perhaps it was common for those humans who could not die and lived as nations to be oddly colored.
Friedrich leaned over and whispered into his nation's ear; "Does he always dress in such effeminate clothing?"
Prussia scoffed but her gaze did not waver. Somewhere along the way she had made eye contact with her fellow nation and the two were now glaring at each other with all of the ferocity of a pair of hungry wolves. "That's his formal military uniform. Believe me when I say it's not the worst he owns. Damn Hapsburgs."
Though Fritz was well aware of Prussia's hatred of the House of Hapsburg, he had no idea what it had to do with anything. He would soon find out.
By the time they were face to face with the duo, he could almost feel her shake. Be it with fury or fear he could not tell, but he liked to think that perhaps it was both. The duchess cleared her throat.
"Diplomats," she started, her voice low despite her physique. "Welcome to Austria."
Friedrich, ever the gentleman, bowed his head ever so slightly in respect. "It is our honor to be here," he said simply. "You have a beautiful country."
Austria gave a soft snort – it seemed he disliked the Prussians as much as Prussia disliked him – and Maria Theresa shot him a warning glance before continuing the perfunctory civil greeting. "It is our honor, sir, and we thank you."
It was quiet for a moment as the regents waited for their nations to greet each other. The two merely continued their staring contest until Maria Theresa discreetly nudged Austria with her ankle, and he broke their glare for a moment. "Maria," he greeted coldly, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.
"Roderich," she replied. So that was his name. Roderich. Prussia had never before said it in his presence.
"It has been a long time."
"Not long enough," The aristocrat frowned, disgusted.
"I see you have not changed,"
"It seems that you haven't either, Roddy," She rolled the 'R' at the front of the diminutive and he flinched ever so slightly. "You're still as clean under the nails as ever."
"I assume that was an attempt at mocking me." He didn't seem at all insulted, simply resigned and a tad irritated. "Of course, I wouldn't expect an uneducated scoundrel such as yourself to understand the finer points of mockery."
Prussia licked her lips and smacked them together loudly. "You always were a pompous ass," she said simply.
The succeeding silence was about as awkward as walking in on two lovers in a broom closet, but had the regents known it would not have seemed at all out of place.
Their hatred for each other ran deeper than the ocean and farther than the moon.
A/N: Yay! It's finally done! It took me close to a month to write this all out and edit it and everything, and I am so proud of myself :3 Please forgive any mistakes and feel free to point them out; my word count for this in MS Word was 6,271 but when I uploaded it into fanfiction it suddenly jumped up to 6,402 and I don't feel like reading it again for the 90th time tonight, so I'm just winging it. Please feel free to review and give me your opinion on the story and if/how you think I should proceed. Though I know what points A and C look like, point B is conveniently missing :/ Also, Please tell me if you like my Fem!Prussia. I decided to call her Maria because it is my favorite of all of those possible names floating out there (is Julchen really the official one? Because I made it her middle name here, though I haven't said so yet) and I tried to make her just as egotistic as regular Prussia but totally loving being a chick (not a lady, if you caught that).
So please review, if you have the time. It would make my day :)