Title: And You Reap What You Saw
Author: sithmarauder
Pairing(s): Gen, but there are some hints of Prussia/Austria, and maybe Austria/Saxony and England/Austria. Small hints of England/America.
Disclaimer: Hetalia and all affiliated characters do not (and will never) belong to me.
A few early lines are lifted from the actual comic strips; I claim no ownership.
This was originally something done for non-FanFiction things, which is why there is a distinct lack of gay countries, for which I apologize. I managed to squeeze some hints in, but nothing is stated outright. I rated it "T" only because it dealt with some more mature aspects of history.
Saxony and Bohemia belong to me.
Note: This focuses more on the Third Silesian War, which was fought primarily between Prussia and Austria.
-x-
In the aftermath, there was nothing left for him to do but stumble and stagger his way back to his house, his pride as battered as his body. The once pristine white-and-blue uniform was stained with a combination of blood and filth, matching the smears across his face and the lacerations and bruises marking various parts of his body. Even with Hungary's help, Prussia had kept Silesia, insisting on it from across the table, where he had gloated alongside his boss, presumably taking pleasure in the undignified state of Habsburg power, who usually took such pride in his pristine appearance.
He hadn't even gotten the chance to freshen up when the treaty was forced into his hands by Prussia, the triumph making him glow with pride and arrogance. Beside him, his boss, Maria Theresa, glared across at Frederick, whose arms were crossed over his chest, a smirk adorning his face.
"So how does it feel to lose, little master? How does it feel to be so weak? To lose to one as awesome as I?" Prussia taunted, catching Austria's attention, crimson eyes flashing with an almost childish glee as they locked eyes. Austria didn't answer, instead angrily thrusting the signed parchment back into the other man's hand, taking no joy in the way Prussia stumbled to catch it before it landed on the lit candle.
"Fool."
"Mr. Austria!" The call came from Hungary, who was waiting for him at the entrance to his house, her eyes wide with worry as she took in the pianist's appearance. Maria Theresa of Austria, who stood beside the humiliated nation, smiled sadly, shaking her head.
"We weren't able to save Silesia," she said calmly, head held high. For the second time. "But we're not finished yet."
-x-
"He'll come after you again, you know," Hungary said as they settled into the main sitting room, biting her lip with worry. Austria glanced over at her, strands of dark brown hair plastered to his temple. He was changed – a simple white shirt, cravat, and brown pants – but his face was littered with small cuts and scratches, and she knew there would be other wounds under the shield of his attire. It made Hungary's heart go out to him, to see such a proud man brought down so.
"Pardon?"
"He's been after you for awhile," Hungary said then, aware of a second pair of eyes watching her interactions. "He won't stop at Silesia alone."
"Prussia is nothing but an ignorant child," Austria replied, his eyes narrowing as he thought of the resource-rich Silesia. He adjusted his glasses.
"I know that scum! We've been fighting since childhood!" Hungary hissed fiercely, tugging on a piece of her light brown hair. "He's sure to do unspeakable things with the land he has stolen from you, Mr. Austria!"
A snort came from one of the guards at the door, and Hungary turned to fix an annoyed glare on the offender. Saxony, for his part, merely smirked and turned back to Bavaria, who snickered alongside him.
"She's right," Maria Theresa spoke suddenly, lowering her head to read over the letter in her hand. "Austria, I will need your help, though I know it will pain you to even think about it."
Austria inclined his head, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away. He nodded once, standing slowly as his boss held up the piece of parchment.
"I need you to send this letter to France."
A strangled sound left Austria's throat, followed by a distinct thump.
"Mr. Austria!"
-x-
"Ah, Spain, mon ami, a letter!"
"It's Pierre three! So it's from Austria?"
"So it seems," France murmured, taking the letter from the little white bird (the third Pierre, really) with an ill-concealed smirk on his face. "Ooh, this is good…" the blonde said as he waved the letter around, a smirk curling on his face. From where he sat on the opposing side of the room, Spain looked up, confusion written clearly on his face.
"What does he want? Another war?"
"Mon Dieu, non," France said with a lewd wink, his smirk turning more lascivious by the second as he held up the letter. "Just a love affair…"
-x-
"So what is this I hear about France becoming your ally?"
The confrontation had been inevitable. Tensions had been running high between them for years now – decades, even, with his people resenting what they saw as contempt from Britain/England, along with often nagging suspicions that the European Superpower wasn't as committed to the alliance as Austria would have liked.
"It is exactly as you have heard. I am now allied with France," Austria said calmly, raising his eyes to meet the livid green gaze of England, which was offset by the Brit's rather generous eyebrows. England glared back at him, tugging on the lapels of his red jacket, refusing to sit down in the chair beside him.
"If this is about Aix-la-Chapelle – "
"I assure you it is not."
"Like hell it isn't," England snapped, crossing his arms. "You're still pissed off about Silesia, aren't you?"
"Why would you care about Silesia, England?" Austria replied, placing his cup on the table in front of him. "You certainly didn't seem to when you failed to even ask Prussia to return it."
And all England did was stand up, nod to him curtly, and leave the room.
-x-
"The little master allied himself with France? You're kidding me, right? Haha, Fritz, very funny – this isn't a very awesome joke," Prussia laughed nervously, his voice loud with panic. "T-they've been enemies for a long time! Why would they suddenly ally themselves with each other? It's u-unthought-of, right? Haha… hahahaha… Totally not awesome…" Prussia paced the length of the room in front of his boss' desk, the laughter continued as his boss watched him warily.
"Regrettably, it is true," Frederick II of Prussia replied, looking up at the currently stammering mess that was his country.
"Disregarding his perverted tendencies, France is formidable! Even the awesome me would have trouble fighting against him!" Prussia shouted, slamming his hands onto the desk.
Frederick smiled at that, pulling out a letter of his own. "Yes, he is, but even he won't stand much of a chance against England."
Prussia snatched at the letter, his eyes scanning it quickly.
I'm allying myself with you only to kick some French ass. This is not for your sake, but for mine. The Ohio Country belongs to me, not that old Frog Face! Mark that!
-England
"Haha! That's almost as awesome as me!" Prussia said, switching moods so suddenly that his boss glanced up, nodding slowly, watching his movements carefully. Prussia laughed for a few more seconds before his eyes caught something flying outside – something much larger than a regular bird.
"The Austrian Eagle! And it's going to Russia! That bastard! They're going to try and surround us!"
"Damn that woman," Frederick ground out, his eyes narrowed as he contemplated the rather straight "relationship" he had with the Habsburg monarch, Maria Theresa. "She's resourceful – I'll give her that. Resourceful, but foolish – she should have accepted the marriage proposal. We could have been great together."
Prussia sneered then, shaking his head, remembering how, before he had taken Silesia, he had gone to Austria to propose the marriage his boss had suggested. It had sickened him to see how complacent Austria had gotten, depending on his powerful marriages to keep his country strong, and it had brought him a great deal of personal pleasure to be the one to strike his down. He was growing in power by the day, and soon he would rule all of Europe – he would be strong, unbeatable; more powerful than Austria ever was or ever had been.
He was the awesome Prussia. And that weak aristocrat would be begging at his feet by the time this war was over.
-x-
1756
"… and zen I'll trade ze land I take from 'im in for ze colonies!" France finished, taking a sip from his wineglass as he eyed Austria appraisingly from the other side of the table.
"That's a terrible strategy."
"It 'as worked for centuries," France returned easily, chuckling. "It will work now."
"And if you don't get enough land to trade with England?"
"Don't be silly. Of course I will. I will merely crush his soldiers 'ere, and zere will be no problem, oui?."
Austria stood, inclining his head again. "England always tries to avoid large amounts of troops over here, France. I would have thought you'd know that by now."
France just smiled, and didn't miss the opportunity to try and grope him as he walked passed.
"I'm assembling my forces at Toulan. Don't think I 'aven't noticed how you and L'Angleterre have not declared war on each other."
"But naturally, you won't attack it first, will you?" Austria replied, ignoring the last part of France's statement and pausing at the door. France smirked, blue eyes dancing wickedly as he tipped the wine glass, watching as the red liquid spilled onto the floor of his expensive rug.
"Ah, L'Autriche, you know me well. But you are right: Minorca first. It'll give Sourcils something to rage about – when he loses, I doubt he'll be too impressed with his precious Byng."
Austria nodded, but that was it.
-x-
"Haha! You're just as weak as the man you're guarding! You can't hope to stand up to the awesome me!" Prussia crowed as he lifted the nation by the front of his tunic, delighting in the way the short blonde struggled, spitting curses and stubborn words of defiance that echoed within his dark green eyes.
Pheh. The little master's were more interesting, Prussia thought, his mind instantly replacing the green of Saxony with the light violet of the aristocratic weakling.
"Schwein," Saxony hissed, his eyes narrowing as he glanced around him, taking in his shambling forces. Unprepared for the initial attack and isolated from Austria by Prussia's forces, formerly neutral Saxony had nothing to fight with – the troops von Browne had promised him could not get through.
And Prussia, that silver-haired pig, damn well knew it.
"So? Do you surrender to the awesome me? I mean, I am pretty formidable," Prussia gloated, still refusing to release the man below him.
"Go to hell," Saxony spat back, but in the end, it didn't matter. He surrendered his army, watching as the survivors of Pirna picked themselves up off the ground, and saluted to their new commanders.
-x-
"Haha! I was so awesome today, England – I captured Saxony," Prussia crowed, lounging in the chair across from the British Empire, who glanced up so quickly he spilled a bit of his tea. Raising his rather impressive eyebrows, England ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair, trying to suppress the look of shock that flickered through his own green eyes.
"You what?" he spluttered, shaking his head.
"Kesese! Saxony is now under my control," Prussia exclaimed, putting his hands behind his head. "I feel awesome."
"You great idiot! Saxony's neutral! Bloody hell, the rest of Europe will tear you apart!"
"Naw, I'll be fine," Prussia responded simply. "Besides, France and that weakling aristocrat can't do anything against me!"
England tensed with anger at the mention of France, but the next day, a bunch of supplies and money appeared at Prussia's doorstep, a note saying "Don't waste it!" taped to the 'munitions supply.
-x-
1757
"We're crossing into Bohemia."
Prussia spat his tea out, sitting up. "What? Why?"
"I don't like waiting for that woman or her Austrian lapdogs to attack us. We'll send our men through the mountain passes and have them meet up with Moritz, Bevern and Schwerin's men by Prague. Then we'll join together there."
Prussia eyed him dubiously. "… You're the boss," he said at last.
"We'll cut off their escape. They'll have nowhere to go. Come this May, we'll decimate them.
-x-"
"We can't wait for them to attack us!"
"And why not? We have a town to our left, a gorge to the north, a marshy slope to the west; we're near-invincible here, Marshall!"
"Your Majesty, I understand where you're coming from, but – "
" – and furthermore, then we wouldn't have to – "
" – waited and let them make the first moves, and we lost Saxony – "
" – neutral, and – "
"Austria, sir?"
Austria glanced away from the two Austrian commanders, turning to the woman who had addressed him.
"Is there something I can do for you, Bohemia?"
Bohemia smiled, shaking her head. "You just looked bored, sir – I thought you might want to take a bit of a walk?"
"That is very kind of you," Austria murmured, standing up. Bohemia smiled again, dropping into a small curtsy before she walked out of the room, glancing back every now-and-then to make sure the Habsburg power was still following her.
Really, Bohemia thought to herself, he was such an interesting man. If she hadn't known him from when they were children, back when he and Switzerland had been almost inseparable, she would have found his seemingly calm and indifferent attitude a little disconcerting. But she knew better. He was just better at hiding it.
"What do you think we'll end up doing?" Bohemia asked once they were out of her house, adjusting the blue flowered headband atop her pale hair. "Attacking, or defending?"
"His Majesty outranks von Browne," Austria said simply, referring to Prince Charles of Lorraine.
"And von Browne is…"
"Maximillian Ulysses Count Browne is my able Field Marshall," Austria told her politely, but he seemed distracted. Bohemia noticed.
"What does Charles want, then?" Bohemia asked, running through a checklist of the Austrian monarchs in her head. "He's Francis Stephen's younger brother, right?"
Austria nodded. He didn't interact with his boss' spouse much. "He wants to wait for Konigseck." At that, Austria's slender hands tightened into fists as thoughts of Prussia's victory in Reichenberg filled his mind. Bohemia had evidentially followed the same train of thought, for a dangerous scowl broke out across her face and she uttered a curse word under her breath.
"That ignorant fool thinks only of expanding his own territory through large armies and brute force," Austria spat out then. "He'll bring down the whole of Europe unless we stop him!"
"Isn't that what you do, but through marriage?" Bohemia asked boldly.
"Don't be ridiculous," Austria said, moving passed her. She didn't ask him again, even after he had returned from the field, bloody and torn up, despite the near victory.
-x-
"We're getting £670,000 pounds from Britain as an annual subsidy, and he's sending over nine-thousand troops to aid Ferdinand in Hanover," Frederick commented, glancing at the sides of his tent.
"Tch. Bet he's still feeling smug over Krefeld," Prussia said, grinning sharply.
"Indeed. But we're going to need it his resources still – I'm getting concerned over Russia's east advancement."
Prussia suppressed a shiver at the thought of the (very) large and (very) intimidating Russian nation, with his smile like ice and his eyes and face reflecting the cruel delight of a psychopathic child with his playthings. Frederick watched his country for a few moments before nodding.
"We march to Zorndorf."
-x-
Saxony knew Austria was trying. But it wasn't enough. Though Prussia had been surprised in Hochkirch, almost nothing had been accomplished in the end. And so he sat back, still under Prussia's control, and waited to see what the new year would bring.
-x-
1758
It wasn't until Maxen that Austria saw Prussia again. Shaken and beaten at the hands of Russia after the crushing defeat at the Battle of Kay, General Daun had forced the surrender of thirteen thousand of Prussia's men.
"I'm beginning to wonder, Prussia, if I should alert a painter of my own," Austria said as they stared across the blood-soaked landscape at each other, neither of them willing to break eye contact as Daun handled the other nation's surrendered troops.
"Ha! This is just a minor setback, little master!" Prussia retorted, jerking his head in the direction of his soldiers, though Austria could see the frustration and rage in his eyes.
"A minor setback, Prussia? Like Kunersdorf, you mean?" Austria's voice was lilting now, and Prussia's eyes dilated as he clutched the hilt of his sword, breathing heavily.
"You priss! Don't even go there, you stuck-up, weak – "
"I hear your great leader was almost driven to suicide, Prussia," Austria continued, raising his voice above that of his enemy's. "The worst defeat in his whole history as a military leader."
"You have no right – no right!" Then he leaped at Austria, his sword lowering, barely giving the other man time to react. Later, when Austria lay panting on the ground again, struggling against the physically stronger nation, Prussia stood back with narrowed eyes and an arrogant smirk, hoisting his sword over his shoulder.
"No matter how many alliances you make, when it all comes down to it, you're still weak without your powerful marriages and pretty face," he sneered. "Remember that."
-x-
"Your pitiful fleet is no match for the power of the British Navy!" England shouted as he watched another of France's ships sink, eyes glittering with glee as he brushed the feathery plume of his hat away from his face. "What a loser!"
"At least I don't 'ave eyebrows that take up 'alf my face, Angleterre!"
"Oi, you bloody French git! Take that back!"
"Did I 'it a sore mark?" France taunted, pulling himself up from the deck of England's ship. "I apologize, Sourcils."
"High talk for someone who lost a battle after just fifteen bloody minutes of fighting! You have no plans left, frog-face! You can't do anything now!"
"At least I am not taxing the life out of my colonies, Sourcils! Tell me, what does your precious America think of all this?"
"You leave him out of this, you bloody bastard!"
"I cannot 'elp but wonder what you would do if he ever got sick of you…"
Quiberon Bay was won by the British that day.
-x-
1761-1762
"Spain and Portugal have entered the war," Maria Theresa told him, sounding weary as she drummed her fingers on the stone windowsill.
"On opposing sides," Hungary added in, green eyes glinting. "Naturally. You'd think that, as brothers, they'd get along a bit more."
"The ties of blood only apply when they suit us, it seems," Austria responded, his mind drifting off to the section of Silesia he had managed to recapture.
"Sir! Prussia has lost his last port on the Baltic Sea! I've news that Britain is expecting total Prussian collapse!" Bavaria suddenly shouted, rushing into the room, the braids in his blonde hair swinging wildly. "I hear they've got less than sixty thousand men remaining! Britain's threatening to withdraw support if they don't start making concessions for peace!"
Maria Theresa's eyes flashed as she heard that, and a smile worked its way across her face. "It seems we've played our pieces correctly, then."
-x-
Even now, when the man posed no threat to him, all Prussia wanted to do was hide under the table and hide until Russia was gone.
"What is wrong, comrade? We are friends now, da?" Russia said cheerfully, his voice as childish as his features, even as he towered two heads above his newfound Prussian ally, all pale hair and creepy violet eyes.
"Russia's agreed to help us," Frederick said, his eyes glinting. "That foolish woman, Empress Elizabeth, has passed – her successor, Peter III, is behind us one-hundred percent. It's the miracle of the House of Brandenburg – with this kind of support, we'll be able to drive the Austrians out of Silesa for good."
Prussia's eyes flashed as he leaped to his feet, already searching for his sword as he placed his usual black hat atop his head.
"I can't wait to see that stuffy aristocrat beg for his life."
-x-
1763
It was a massive blow to his pride, seeing Prussia stand across from him with a smirk on his face. Even after Russia had switched sides once more under Catherine the Great, the Prussians had managed to hold down Silesia. In a rather twisted way, it felt as if he had reached out far and came back with nothing. If anything, he was weaker – it was painful to walk, and he was getting used to dealing with less considering the unstable financial state of his country.
Even after seven years of fighting, the resource-rich province of Silesia had ended up in Prussia's possession – Prussia, who was now officially recognized as one of Europe's great powers.
"You're still thinking about it. I told you not to." The rebuke came from Saxony, who had entered the candle-lit room with a quietness Austria hadn't known he possessed. "Paris has been signed," the blonde nation continued, sitting down in one of the wooden chairs with a shake of his head. "France is livid. He said something about you being right."
Austria smiled, but it was a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"I suppose England's happy with his new status?"
"I wouldn't mind being the chief colonial empire myself," Saxony said, grinning roguishly. "I mean, they got what they wanted."
"Which is more than I can say for us," Austria replied, raising an eyebrow as he reached out to brush his fingers along the ivory keys of the grand piano, which was located in the corner of the room. Saxony whistled.
"You going to play?" The Austrian's love for music was something all of Europe appreciated, if nothing else. The fact that Austria hadn't sat down immediately to play some music (Chopin, in fact) had worried him slightly.
"Now is not the time."
'This coming from the guy who refused to fight without an orchestra?" Saxony asked, raising an eyebrow of his own. "I find that a little hard to believe."
"Relax, guys, the awesome me is here! Hey, Saxony, nice palace!" Prussia said as he walked into the room, his eyes adjusting to the dim as he sought out the figures of both Austria and Saxony.
"Humph!" was all Saxony said, crossing his arms as he glared at the crimson-eyed nation.
"Prussia," Austria greeted, but his tone held no warmth or affection. It was just business for him.
"So lemme see this: I get Silesia, you get nothing of merit… Yep, sounds about right!"
"You're so vulgar," Austria scoffed as Prussia muttered a curse under his breath, glaring at the treaty for a moment before placing it on the table.
"Want to make something of it, little master?" the silver-haired Germanic leered.
"Disgusting," Saxony said, stepping forward. "You're just pissed because nothing's really changed."
Prussia smirked, glancing over at Austria, who had closed the lid on Saxony's piano. He stepped closer, until they were within touching distance, before he reached out and jerked the Austrian nation's chin up harshly.
"Silesia's still mine, though."
Austria jerked away, taking a step back. "Fool!"
"Guys?" Saxony said, holding up a feathered quill. "I've signed. Now it's your turn."
Austria signed it next, his elegant script matching Saxony's as they waited for Prussia to add his own signature.
"Taking your sweet time," Saxony muttered.
"You guys write like girls," was all Prussia said in response before he shoved the quill and ink aside. "See ya, Specs," he threw over his shoulder before vanishing through the doorway.
"It really does seem like nothing has changed," Saxony said as they walked down the hall to where Austria's carriage awaited him, Maria Theresa seated firmly inside it. "Except for France, we all got off… all right. England's probably choking himself with joy over it. Gain a lot, lose some – but only lose what you don't need."
Austria merely nodded, climbing into the carriage. He spared a goodbye to Saxony, who inclined his head and let him go with a solitary wave.
"We weren't able to save Silesa," Mara Theresa said, and for a moment, a ghostly voice echoed in his head, and he almost felt Hungary's phantom hand resting on his arm, giving him her silent support. "But we're not finished yet," had been the finishing line last time, seven years ago. Only this time, they were finished. And somehow, in the deepest corners of his mind, he wondered if it was finally for good.