I heard and see many stories and artworks on the Partition of Poland and I would like to do my own version using Hidekaz Himaruya's creation: Axis Powers Hetalia.
Black Snow: Rise of the Phoenix
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Soft snow gently landed on the forehead of a young blond-haired man. His tired greens drifted to his friend from the Baltic and silently observed the other man's rugged breathing.
Much to his chagrin, three men surrounded the two of them: an arrogant albino from the empire of Prussia, a big-nosed man with a deceitful smile from the land of the bitterest of winters and a stoic pianist from the aristocratic lands of Austria.
"How pathetic…," the albino taunted. He looked down at the fallen men with equally smirking eyes. "Here I thought that the combined forces of the Poles and the Lithuanians will bring me to my knees." An indignant scowl then appeared on his face. "Perhaps, I overestimated you."
Green eyes shifted from proud reds to playful violets as their owner slowly walked towards them.
"Polsha, Litva," the honeyed voice of the Russian inflicted fear between the two helpless men. "You lost." His seemingly innocent eyes glided at the sight of quivering brunette, lying beside the defeated blond. "Litva, let us go home."
In the tiniest second, the warmth beside the blond suddenly disappeared.
"Lenkija! Lenjika! Feliks!" His friend cried out. "Lenjika!"
The other took notice of the brunet's futile attempts to escape. His thin lips quivered and spoke words he should not have spoken.
"You should see your face, Liet. You look hilarious with that ridiculous face of yours."
With that, the Lithuanian ceased all of his protests and struggles and let his captor take him away from the land surround in white mist. The Pole, on the other hand, started to laugh, a hollowed laugh that pierced his heart more than too many. He continued doing so until the silhouettes of the friend he betrayed and his deceitful captor disappears.
"He will bear a heavy grudge on you, Poland," the aristocrat finally spoke.
"That would be fine with me...," the Pole proclaimed with a broken voice, "...it is better for him to detest me than for him to witness my pitiful state."
The Prussian warrior grabbed the leftover fabrics of the Pole's tunic and growled, "And do you think we will let you free, you dirty bastard?"
"If your brother was arranged to die, would you or would you not take his place?"
In a fit of rage, the albino unsheathed his sword and carved fine lines onto the body of the blond man. When he finished, he thrust his sword covered in blood back to its sheath and turned to the aristocrat. "Feel free to choose what part you like." Grey skies cried soft white tears for the fallen lying on the snow tainted with the most vicious shade of red.
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The bloodied limbs went with the Prussian who boasted his battle to his younger brother who would soon lead the war that devastated all.
The Austrian brought and hid the decapitated and limbless torso from his Hungarian wife who mourned for the death of her friend.
The severed head was then delivered to the Russian who treated it both as a reward and as a symbol of punishment, causing all of his subordinates fearfully to submit to his every whim. Every night, in the land of bitter snow, a loud strangled cry echoed in the Russian villa and the lamenting heart of a Baltic subordinate.
In the year 1795, the country of Poland ceased to exist.
Several years later, a child from a forgotten land rose from deep dreamless slumber. With legs that mastered stealth and caution, the child retrieved every single piece of the puzzle that was made from the same flesh and blood as her.
In amidst of the withered fields of rye, the child gathered and arranged the puzzle in coffin of black glass. When she placed the last piece on its proper place, she clasped her hands together and prayed to the heavens.
"God, my Father, please bring the man who sacrificed his life not just for his friend but for the people of Poland. With the grace of the Holy Trinity, the angels and saints, especially to she, the queenly patron whose name borrowed, grant me power."
In still silence, she laid her defeated body against the glass coffin and gazed at the dying field.
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One day when dark clouds were broken apart and let the light touched the coffin, the glass prison shattered and the phoenix rose from its blazing shards.
"Welcome back, Feliks Łukasiewicz." The green-eyed phoenix turned away from the bright dawn and saw the child, the child who pulled him back to existence. She pulled out her hand and offered it to him. "Let us go home, Polska."
The phoenix gazed at her hand and his lips curled into a small melancholic smile. He took her hand and together, they walked along the war torn road under the vermilion sky.
In the year 1918, the country of Poland regained its independence and statehood.
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Thank you for reading.
Notes for thought:
Polsha is the Russian of Poland while Litva is the Russian of Lithuania. Lenjika is the Lithuanian of Poland. Polska, in the other hand, is the Polish of Poland.
The Polish-Hungarian relationship existed in the Middle Ages, proving the statement that they were friends prior to the partition. Hungary and Austria ruled together in 1867-1918. I am sure that Roderick made sure that Elizabeta did not see Feliks' torso.
The child is an original character of mine named Jadzia Leszczyńska named after King Jadwiga (thank you for your suggestion, kit572) and Marie Leszczyńska, two of the known Polish rulers from the past. I created her with this question on my head, if Poland lost its statehood, what will happen to the Poles? I decided to let Feliks represents the country while Jadzia represents its people, thus making her his child in a way.
Also, due to the seriousness of this fic, for Feliks to use his verbal tic seems inappropriate. I would like to apologize if it makes this unsettling for others.
First of all, I have to thank peculuiaries for giving me the inspiration on writing this fiction, my friends who encouraged me to continue writing this until the last dot and for the readers who enjoyed this. To the ones who took their time to review, you don't how much them mean to me.
