So! It's officially been forever since I posted anything… And finally I said no more! Enough is enough! I shall write again! …Or that's more or less what I said. However, this actually isn't anything new. This has been sitting in my writing notebook for ages. I actually thought it was unfinished until I went to try and work on an ending today, and lo and behold! I had already written an ending! Don't ask me when, I honestly have no clue.

Prompt: And

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

She hadn't wanted to believe it at first, but there came a point when denial was no longer an option (however, she absolutely refused to ever admit that Gilbert was the first to know).

The first sign had been a tenderness of the chest. She had tried to attribute that to training too hard. The next sign had been that while the other nations had been getting taller and their features sharper, she had stayed about the same height, her features softening. When she had started bleeding, she had nearly had a heart attack and ran crying to her boss's wife. That was when she finally had everything explained to her, and she couldn't help feeling slightly betrayed that no one had ever explained this to her before. When her breasts began to grow, she had even tried to cut them off, but the pain had been too excruciating. In the end, she'd ended up with horrible gashes on one side of her chest and having to explain to her boss's wife what had happened. She'd lied, of course, and said she'd been in a fight. The lie resulted in her being chided while she got bandaged and stitched up to be more ladylike. She'd wanted to scream at the advice, but instead remained quiet, nodding along.

Time passed, and she tried to get used to being a girl. It was never enough though. Girls were weak and catered to men. She was not weak. She refused to cater to any man.

When she was called to meet with Austria, it worried her a little that she no longer fumbled with the fine dresses she was made to wear. When she saw him, she immediately hated him, standing there with that haughty expression on his face. He was a man. He had it easy. She suddenly longed for the days when they were children and she would beat him up.

He extended a hand and bowed, and she bit back the urge to punch him, curtsying instead (which she at least still fumbled a bit with that). He raised an eyebrow but said nothing about it.

Days passed and she continued to hate him. He played piano, he wore frilly clothes, everything he did was the opposite of masculinity, and it infuriated her how he squandered his opportunity.

She was hiding one day, spending time in the stables, longing for the days when she didn't have to ride side-saddle. She was brushing down one of the horses when Austria walked in. Their eyes met, and she glared at him. He seemed to ignore it and continued into the stable, making his way to one of the calmer horses.

The minutes passed by, the two occupying the stable but not speaking to each other. Standing in the vicinity of Austria for so long, Hungary had worked herself up so much that when the other country finally broke the silence, she jumped and dropped the brush, causing her steed to give her an exasperated look.

"You seem unhappy," Austria stated calmly, fixing Hungary with a look that made her feel unsettled in a way she couldn't describe.

She wanted to tell him to mind his own business, really, she did, but it felt good to finally have someone acknowledge her feelings that she just couldn't tell him that.

All the same, she couldn't look him in the face when she spat, "Of course I'm not."

"Why not?"

She almost winced at his understanding tone. Here she had been hating him this whole time.

"Why should I be? I have to act like a damn lady. It's miserable."

Austria actually snorted and laughed at her response, causing Hungary to turn and glare at him.

"What's so funny?" she shouted, no longer feeling sorry for hating him.

Austria smirked, causing the female country to want to punch his nose in.

"Hungary, you are no lady."

Her face flushed an angry red, and she sputtered out, "Excuse me?"

Austria's smirk changed into a thoughtful smile, and he explained, "You are a country. You do not need to live by the rules and standards of human-kind. You exist to exemplify your people. If you don't want to wear the dress, don't. If you feel like wearing it, do. A country should embrace both masculine and feminine."

Hungary stared at him for a moment in silence, then smiled and nodded.

Over the rest of Austria's visit, Hungary occasionally wore pants and went hunting, and no one said a word. However, she also continued to wear the dresses. They weren't so bad once she thought about it, and it didn't hurt that on the days she wore them Austria's eyes lingered on her a little more. Something about that just seemed right.

So Hungary is one of those characters that just intrigues and enamors me, hence why I will likely be doing a lot of writing about her while trying to overcome my writer's block. But seriously, how jarring would it be to go through years of your life thinking you were a boy only to find out you had basically been lied to your whole life. I just don't see her taking any of it well. And of course Austria would be the one to make her see reason, though I'm not too sure how I did on his characterization here. I've never written him before, even though I ship these two like crazy. I usually prefer to write the Gilbert-Elizabeta dynamic just because it's more messed up lol! Anyway! Hope I did his character justice in his small moment.