Title: Fragments of the Broken Sun
Author: satoru_13
Characters/Pairings: France, Austria, England, Italy, Denmark, Finland, Holy Roman Empire, Prussia, Norway, Russia, Sweden. HRE/Italy, implied Denmark/Norway, Sweden/Finland.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars, the way that they see it.
Warning: Angst, bad grammar, history lectures...
Words: 3850, not including the fine text.

A/N: This was me trying to write something about the Napoleonic Wars...I originally meant for it to be like a "history lesson" sort of thing that actually clearly illustrates what happens but...got carried away, OTL. The result...was a bit different from what I expected......and also I'm sorry for the different amount of words on each character, some I just find easier to rant about...OTL. I'm hoping I haven't made anyone too OOC...

Edit: I forgot one last thing I was sorry about, this isn't all the nations who were involved in the Napoleonic Wars, there were others like Poland and Spain and Romano, but otherwise this would get too long plus I can't write the characters who seem happy OTL. I'm sorry, I love you guys!

Re-edit: Thank you to Lone Kunoichi who picked out my stupid mistake…it's been fixed now…to some extent (because Russia is creepier with a sword than a musket OTL).

---

The change is coming and it is not of his mind to hinder it, not really, and, quite honestly, it is not quite his place to do so either.

Now he sits in one of his rooms, a magnificent one of rich velvet and glossy wood and golden tassels, at the window with a wine glass held gracefully within his right hand; he makes no move to lift it to his lips. (He swivels the wine in its glass and the red stains the sides, red like love, red like blood…mm, fitting.) His people are splitting into two and he does not know if it is for the better or the worse either way he does not care, should not be caring– he continues looking down at the scene, down on beautiful Paris from his lofty window.

(the glass spins round in circles, around, around; red, red, always red) He sinks into his armchair and orders a servant to shut the heavy curtains, he is sick and does not wish to view more.

He raises the glass and daintily smells it, and when he lifts the edge of the glass to his lips, they are trembling and so are his fingers (his body does not obey him quite as much as he would like, because it is of two minds, after all; no, three, three minds, he thinks, three; how did Angleterre ever get through that matter with the Roses? It is hard for a nation in a civil war) and before he knows it the fragile glass is broken shards on his beautiful carpet and red is seeping through his coat, a wonderful soft blue, lavishly trimmed with gold and hems dripping with lace.

It reminds him unpleasantly–

He laughs, mirthlessly, wearily. His clothes will probably never be quite the same hue nor is it likely he shall ever wear them again; that is a shame but he has plenty more where they came from and he figures it will be out of fashion soon anyhow.

It is no longer in his power to rise from his seat and so he does not; he will be content with watching this unravel from here. The next morning he is still there and as the servant he has ordered drags open the curtains and tie them in place with golden tassels, the sun filters through the window and the stain on his body is as crimson as it was the day before.

(He knows it is not his place; the end is red, France smiles)

---

The lowly peasants of France have revolted, and now the monarchy and aristocracy lie in broken ruins; when he hears the news he is sitting amidst manuscript lined with notes, brushing his lower lip with the end of his quill, composing a piece for his beloved orchestra. His concert is postponed again and he thinks that battles have been many in recent times and, really, it has been not long since the previous, when his business had been rudely interrupted (but perhaps it is just him, for whom decades pass as seconds).

He is hardly surprised by the turn of events; twirling his quill, he sets the tip on the paper and writes his reply with handsome loops; he has no love for the man and sends his mirrored declaration, that from this moment hence they are at war – if that is what he wishes, because if that vulgar man wants this useless time he shall give it.

(Waste some of these seconds for me, because he has too many to spare, too many have passed and he has no doubt that more are yet to come; it is not his time to end yet, not yet.)

He wonders, how long will the war last this time? He supposes he could still fit the concert in somewhere.

---

The sun sets not on the British Empire–

The man is his enemy, and regardless of reason or circumstance it will remain; he sees a weak point, and Britain is quick to rekindle the war between them.

It was not the first time they had fought, far from so, nor was it remorse he was feeling – for it was for the glory of the British Empire that he was fighting, and to meet the purpose the means mattered not. It is a statement he has spoken many times, and not once has he nor does he plan to break his word.

(Because remorse is a burdening thing, and a mere two decades is not enough to heal wounds.)

---

He is waiting, for it is not in his power to do otherwise – it hurts, he has always been so useless and even at times like these when he should help the most, it hurts, it hurts.The other boy is gone and he is quite sure he does not miss that scary person – scary perhaps because he had never understood what he was doing, call me stupid, he had never understood the reasons behind the actions, the thoughts behind the pale stony face. Despite that he remembers the way that Holy Roman Empire speaks, the way he walks, eats, drinks, shouts, whispers, paints, he still has that first sheet of canvas, blushes; he is useless but not blind, never blind.

The battles rage on around him but it is not his place to interfere; that is Austria's role and every day he returns looking more worn, and then he is not returning every day anymore but once every few days, and then a few weeks, and then a few months, and every time he is back in this house he would be scarred further than the last – Holy Roman Empire has never returned; he supposes he trusts him to wait, thinks him capable of waiting…he is proud, and he will prove it that Holy Roman Empire has chosen the right person for the job.

He wakes up each morning and practices his smile in the mirror, and goes out with the same smile plastered over his face in the hopes that today will be the day he is back– It is Austria back instead, he speaks of the wars while Hungary inspects his wounds, but they never speak of him anymore and he wonders why.

(He is waiting, because it is the one thing this useless boy trusts himself to do.)

---

He is working at his table and that is rare – he has never one been the type to think, or to express himself with much more than brash words or sharpened blades. He has been at this since dawn and will be until dusk, and then he will move away from the rich wooden desk, firstly to rest his tired eyes and grab an already cold dinner, and secondly to pick up some more oil for his lamp, to work through the night.

It is strange to see him like this; his fingers are ink-stained and so is the beautifully white quill he was working with; the smudges have found their way over the sheets and sheets of paper and over the table itself; he has an ink splash on his cheek and even his hair is laced with black, no doubt with fingers running through in thought– (on that man it looks more like blood–) He is not used to all this because of course, those calluses on his worn hands are not from holding a quill, and the worn notches on the magnificent battleaxe are not a part of the original design.

Gunboats, he is drawing, or rather the designs of gunboats, and they might be little but they have big hearts, and he'll fly his colours from every single upright piece of wood on that thing. Norge might be sceptical but he'll show him that with these guys they can win the battle and rub it in Britain's face, even if they don't have a fleet.

He keeps working (the candle flickers and the black glints red in the light) and he will, until the light dies out.

---

(The snow comes down around him and everything is still; no sound comes to his ears and he is reminded of his treasured snow globe)

Since the beginning he has known the snow as a friend, and welcomes her when it is her time to descend. She covers his land in her fragile veil of white, preserving everything and gracing it with her gift of beauty; as if the whole country itself had been spirited into the clouds. It is quite magical and when the first flakes come Finland will go outside with a heavy cloak and sit for however long until the snow stops, and at the end of it when he gets up there is a perfect indent where the snow has piled around him. When it is time he is not sorry to see her go, for the winter has been long and his summer is beautiful too, and he knows she will return.

He can swear that over the border it is different. The snow there lusts (for love or for blood? For Russia it seems likely to be both…or maybe the latter, no, definitely the latter) and being in contact with it frightens him, for he knows not how many lives the great frost has taken nor how many hearts' worth of blood has seeped from their owners into the ice. There the snow is not pure white like his but grey, grey like the skies, grey like the clouds, grey like the buildings, grey like the bodies, grey like that blade he cruelly wields, grey like the faces of the people there– He cuts the thought off there because he can go on for much longer.

The snow there is bloodthirsty and Finland is terrified of what would happen if he let his guard down; now he is at the border and it does not surprise him that he is afraid to cross.

Sweden has taken him to as far as here; Russia stands on the other side and his eyes burn, don't make me come and get you, be nice and walk over by yourself, come, dear Finland, come, he takes a step forward and with doing so he looks at Sweden and hopes he doesn't follow. (The defiance in Sweden's eyes worries him, don't try anything, don't come after me–) He steps over and even though there is no line marked his body feels the change.

(He hears a woman's scream and red flashes across his vision, drops of blood marring the clear white of his beautiful snow, the beloved pure white turning slowly into a sickly grey.)

---

Some say red; some say yellow; some say the colours of the rainbow; for him the sun shines pure white – of the girl he remembers little save her white-clad figure and the light of the sun in her smile.

The end is coming; as the sand falls through the hourglass his body deteriorates gradually, bit by bit, the wounds biting at his flesh and fatigue wearing at his bones. His death is slow even for a nation and it is one and a half centuries past before he feels the poisoned decay running through his veins, and knows he cannot go on anymore.

His body is treacherous and will not respond to his command – he knows the sun is sinking over the skeletons of his empire, and he does not give it much thought for he minds it not. (And his logic is simple; should the sun set, perhaps it would show its face to him again, for the last time – perhaps she would come and witness his death– He cuts the thought off there.)

He clings to the memory of happier times, and if he tries he can paint a picture of her just with his imagination (painting like she had once taught him with the canvas spread before them, her small hands laced around his brush and his hands) and he tries now and if he is hallucinating it is so real, she is resting there and she is glowing with laughter, the beautiful lily-white he remembers her in billowing out around her. He has not the strength to reach but even before that she is gone–

He feels his heart stopping– His last thought is for her to be here, next to him, and he is certain, so certain, that should the (his) white sun smile once again the world would not be darkening as it is now.

(Where are you, Italia?)

And the child dies; within walls of stone where the sun is eclipsed by blood.

---

He grieves not the deaths of mortals, because he knows that one day soon he'll have another king just as awesome as Old Fritz.

(Perhaps a songbird just passed his window, because he hears the melodious trilling of a joyful flute–) How long has it been since the guy kicked the bucket?

(For a second he wonders if it is his own imagination; No, no, that can't be, for he has never ever lamented the bygone, inanimate or otherwise, and most certainly not human beings, the fickle characters they take so much joy in being; Yes, he thinks again, it must be one of those damned yellow things, but still the likeness of the sound astounds him.) Without the king a year in his reckoning falls akin to a day, so long and dragging that it is; and then the night is another year again– Perhaps it is ironic because in the past for a nation like he, the reverse was true.

He does not lament the past but sometimes the present is so long – he finds himself visiting the sissy aristocrat (because they are allied now, the thought is strange, strange, strange) and orders him, instead of hammering away on that weird big black-and-white box or squeaking on the wind-box with strings, blow that silver stick like I say and you'd better make it sound good now, stupid aristocrat!

Austria relents and plays; Prussia sits back and listens, the Austria right now reminds him of Old Fritz or is it the opposite, has it been the opposite? (Those two of all people are too different;) He listens and thinks maybe that this is one thing he can appreciate, something Frederick the Great taught him to appreciate, amongst others.

(The shadows of the music haunt his mind, but maybe now he can blame it on Austria; Yes, because the awesome Prussia does not live in the past.)

---

He can taste the words of his people on his tongue, feel it simmering across his skin, a tingling at his fingertips, a brightness in his mind; the words of the people who have finally come to the same thought as he, and wish for the creation of independent Norway.

Denmark has abandoned him, he knows; Denmark has ceded him, like he would a piece of land or a piece of property, or perhaps that is all Norway ever meant to him – he is not as agitated over the matter as he perhaps should be, because that man has given him a chance, he supposes, a chance at being able to rule his own mind; and he is (what is this feeling?) relieved that it is Sweden he has to fight to gain it.

(He has fought Sweden anyhow, in a personal union with Denmark, and it will not be any harder than whatever number of centuries before, he has lost track of their childish squabbles already; and what of Denmark? Denmark is different– How? Is he dearer than your brother? I don't want to see his face, not that face– I couldn't betray him like that– Is he worth more than what you want? Think of what he has done to you, how he has treated you– No, no, be quiet, be quiet, SHUT UP–) He hears the echoes of his own voice.

The reply to his newly-written constitution comes quickly, from just across a border; the livid words please Norway much more than they should have. Because he is not property – and this is what you get for thinking that, hmm? If Denmark does not want me I will not cede myself to you, I will not make my people bow under the rule of another again–

(What is it that they call it, Stockholm syndrome? Ironic–)

He is off to the side observing the election of his new king – the king who would give independence to this country, to him – and feels the corners of his mouth lift in the shadow of a smile.

---

General Winter keeps his pact.

He has won again, come a step closer to giving the whole world his name, and to do that he needs do nothing, just wait and watch; they perish like cockroaches and it is less pitiful than funny; the snow is as beautifully white as usual and a little crimson stain here and there makes it prettier.

They will all realise, he knows they will, they will know that it will be better to become one with Russia – and soon he will be able to live wherever he wants, he can find a warm place with sunflowers, with a field full of sunflowers and he can be there all day with Lithuania and Latvia and Estonia, and Ukraine and Belarus, and Finland, and Sweden, and Poland, and Prussia and Austria and Italy and France and everyone else in this stupid war and any other wars ever fought against him, I'll have to punish them, for being bad children, I'LL BREAK THEM FOR FIGHTING ME–

No, no, no, don't think about that, that won't have to happen, because once he has gained the world they will be happy to come, and he will invite them all to his new home– Oh but wait, where will his new home be? Someone might already be there but that won't matter, I'll just ask them to swap with me! They can see the snow once in a while too;he smiles; and they can stay there for as long as I have, they can understand, they can have the cold and wind and snow and ice until they break break break–

(He hopes General Winter's pact will remain with this cursed land, and not follow him to elsewhere, until the entire earth is winter.)

---

The king had seen a golden cross shining in the sky, and believed it a message from God.

The border lies behind them and he sees the opposing army, and he knows that it has not been that long since resistance was so fiery in himself as well. He sees the flags proudly flying blood-red, crossed with white, the golden lion in the canton invisible from the distance – a sudden lapse of control and he remembers the red-uniformed figure on the other side, flying the same proud cross –

– and now the enemy rides up, figure slight, soft hair lifted by the wind and pale skin glowing in the sun; his memory recedes, and even as he tries he cannot conjure up the figure of olden days, not again; he reminds himself harshly of who exactly he is fighting.

He understands that ghosts of the past should not invade the present – that flag is clear now, and even as he finds the subtle distinctions he decides it is not different as much as it needs be (he sees that lingering memories cut them both) and wonders if this is the other's idea of independence – after the union he would have him alter it, to a design more appropriate.

He knows the other has seen his momentary confusion, for Norway glances emotionlessly upwards (and now that he was closer he could see his sea-blue eyes, burning bright) towards the red-white Nordic cross; and then the youth, peering from across the battlefield, pointedly scans Sweden's front line; we're missing things, of sorts– he understands much more clearly than he would prefer to.

The gaps in their hearts leak blood as the empty battle fights on, fighting under the cross that unites us all; as he was taken from me, I will take you from him.

(I'm sorry, brother– No, there is nothing else he can say, the battle begins.)

---

The dawn is slow, the light is brief, and the dusk is quick to come.

He is there now, the first to arrive, brushing aside heavy crimson curtains with golden tassels, resting his blue gaze on the beauty lying beyond the panes. This could have been his, he thinks, and he makes thought of employing a painter to capture the scene, for he loves all beautiful things and if he cannot conquer it, at the least let him record it, and collect every single piece.

Not so long after him, the great oak doors swing open and the nations begin to come in, gathering in a loose circle around the powerful wooden table. One by one they sit; Austria slowly as if the chair was of dirt, the air of nobility billowing out as a cloak; Prussia beside him the opposite, booted heels on the table and leaning comfortably into his precariously balanced chair; Denmark and Norway sitting apart for the first time in centuries, both avoiding the other's eyes in brooding silence; Sweden next to the latter, blue-green eyes peering wearily from square frames. Across from them smiles Russia, as though the world was all but his; Finland in the next seat over, round cheeks hollow and chalk-pale; England, green fire ravaging in his eyes – France sees the hate embedded into his very being and knows that if their pity is all he has, he is finished here; these and many more beside, coming to voice their mind and have it heard.

He takes a seat himself, and wonders how best to make this elegant.

"This meeting commences henceforth," England voices clearly, and the triumphant tone is more than enough to tell France what will become of him. His armies are spent, his emperor absent, his short-lived empire dissipated; he had forced countries to war, taken land he did not own, broken apart unions, killed a nation…

They continue, and France remains silent.

"Have you no words to speak?" England snaps some while later, and France stands with all the grace he can muster, feeling the eyes of all the world on him – he takes a breath and when he answers, his voice is even.

"I will say nought, for I repent not what I did." He sits again, and hears the words of anger fiercely erupting through the room. The war is over and he will bend to the mind of the victors; he has done what he had to and now he regrets it not – he now only wishes that they tax him lightly.

He hopes he has faded beautifully, for sunsets – in romantic France – ought to be worthy of praise.

He prepares for the starless night.

---

Here begins the fine text...it's more than 40% length of the actual story, /shot. I put it here since I was so vague in the fic but I think I overdid it…

1. France – the French Revolutionary Wars, which lasted from 1792 to 1802. In short, following the Seven Years' War and the American Revolutionary War, France was financially inept; the French treasury was weakened, and the economy going in a downward spiral. To counter this Louis XVI brought in several new financial advisors, and after surveying the unanimous thought was that France was in need of an extreme change in the way the public was taxed, however, each advisor was, in turn, ignored and kicked out. It was suggested in 1787 that the nobles, previously exempt to tax, to now be required to pay, but the suggestion did not go through. Finally in 1789, in an act of desperation Louis XVI created the Estates-General, an assembly which consisted of three sections each representing a portion of the population, the nobility, the clergy, and the general French public – if these three groups could agree on a way of taxing, then it would be implemented. However, since the nobility and clergy were both exempt to tax, this wasn't really a valid solution. Moreover, each of these sections had one vote, even though the Third Estate was many, many times larger than the other two sections. Following this, the Third Estate named itself as the sovereign National Assembly, and peace went on as the National Assembly gained members from the other two estates and drafted a constitution. The peace was short-lived, however, as there became a divide in the National assembly – those who wanted the constitutional monarchy, and those who wanted the king out of the picture. Outside of France, neighbouring countries feared the revolutionary spirit would spread to elsewhere, and sent the Declaration of Pillnitz, which demanded the French to return Louis XVI to the throne. This was taken as hostile by French leaders, and declared war on Prussia and Austria. (Crap this is getting really long so I'll just shorten it a little) Basically, Napoleon was a young and gifted military leader who gained many victories, and upon return named himself the "first consul", hence becoming dictator, ending the Revolution, and ruling military France for fifteen years.

2. Austria – The First Coalition, lasting from 1793 to 1797. It was the first major effort of multiple European powers to contain Revolutionary France. France declared war on Austria and Prussia.

3. England – 18th May, 1803, a renewed declaration of war between England and France, ending the period of peace. In his last line he refers to the American Revolutionary War (I know I know, OTL) which ended in 1783, exactly two decades ago.

4. Italy – he has no references, I'm sorry. I only put him there for the sake of it…-hides-

5. Denmark – The Gunboat War, lasting from 1807 to 1814. Denmark-Norway was originally neutral in the Napoleonic Wars, and traded with both sides; in the First Battle of Copenhagen (2nd of April 1801) and the Second Battle of Copenhagen (August-September 1807) large portions of the Dano-Norwegian fleet was captured or destroyed, by Great Britain. This ended the Dano-Norwegian neutrality, and engaged in a naval guerrilla war with gunboats – they could be built much quicker than larger ships which had formed their fleet. The gunboats could attack more freely and were easily built, and less of a loss; the smaller gunboats would attack larger British ships in Dano-Norwegian waters. The Gunboat War ended with a British victory at the Battle of Lyngør in 1812, involving the destruction of the last large Dano-Norwegian ship, the Najaden, on the Norwegian coast. However, the spirit of the people never diminished despite the lack of the fleet, and the Gunboat War is thought of as an example of Danish spirit.

6. Finland – The Finnish War, fought between Russia and Sweden from 1808 to 1809. The cause of war was the peace treaty of between Russia and France, signed on the 7th of July 1807 – France gave Russia permission to attack Sweden, which made Russia an ally of France. The purpose was to force Sweden join a naval embargo against Great Britain, and while the operations took place in Finland, they were intended to be halted after Sweden complied. However, it was realised that by conquering Finland, Saint Petersburg, the Russian capital, dangerously close to the Swedish border, would be better protected, and Russia would have better connections with the Baltic Sea. As a result of the war, Finland was ceded, and became a part of the Russian Empire.

7. Holy Roman Empire – The Battle of Austerlitz, on the 2nd of December 1805, involved a decisive French victory against an Austro-Russian army, often called Napoleon's greatest victory. The battle effectively ended the Third Coalition, and resulted in the abdication of the Holy Roman Emperor Francis II, who kept Francis I of Austria as his only title.

*The reference about his "long death"; the Holy Roman Empire deteriorated after the end Thirty Years' War, which was from 1618 to 1648. There are two main reasons, one being the people dying, either from casualties in the war (about fifteen to thirty percent perished) or from disease when fighting with other armies. The second reason is the fact that Germany was broken into many small territories, each ruled by a king – this limited the power of the Holy Roman Empire despite the states still being a part of it.

8. Prussia – Frederick II of Prussia, known as Frederick the Great. Frederick fought wars, mainly against Austria, to join up his vulnerably disconnected lands. He ascended the throne as "King in Prussia" because he only owned a part of historic Prussia, but after 1772 acquired most of the rest through the First Partition of Poland and was the first to bear the name of "King of Prussia". He also is credited with transforming Prussia from a European backwater to an economically strong and politically reformed state, and established Prussia as the fifth and smallest European powers. Frederick was a gifted musician, whose instrument was the transverse flute.

9. Norway – Denmark-Norway had become entangled with the Napoleonic Wars as an ally of France, through their involvement in the Gunboat Wars, and as the tide turned against France, without their fleet, they were virtually defenceless. On the 7th of January 1814, about to be overrun by Swedish, Russian and German troops, Denmark agreed to cede Norway to Sweden, and the terms were finalised with the Treaty of Kiel on the 14th of January. On the 18th of January king Friederick VI of Denmark issued a letter to the Norwegian people, releasing them from their fealty to him. At this point the viceroy of Norway, Christian Frederik (the cousin of Friederick VI), was already in Norway; he was resolved to protect the integrity of the country, and if possible, also the union with Denmark. He decided to claim the throne of Norway, and created an independent government with himself at the head. On the 2nd of February, the Norwegian people learnt of their country being ceded by Denmark, and supported Christian Frederik in ideas for independent Norway. There is increasing opposition and other countries aren't supportive of the Norwegian independence movement, but they also would not full-heartedly support Sweden should a battle break out. The first draft of Norway's constitution is signed by the committee on the 1st of May, and the final version is signed by the 16th. On the 17th of May Christian Frederik is crowned, and the date is known as Constitution Day, Norway's national day.

10. Russia – The Russian campaign of 1812. The campaign was a turning point in the Napoleonic Wars, and reduced the French army to a fraction of its original strength – more men were lost from the forces from starvation, desertion, disease, and suicide, than all the battles of the Russian invasion combined.

11. Sweden – Swedish campaign against Norway. On the 29th of July, Swedish forces move to invade Norway. Peace negotiations begin on the 10th of August and end on the 14th, in the town of Moss. The Convention of Moss results in a general cease-fire based on terms which were effectively terms of peace. Christian Frederik succeeds in excluding any indication that Norway had recognized the Treaty of Kiel, and Sweden accepts that it is not to be considered a part of the future union between the two states. Bernadotte, the Swedish-Norwegian king in the future understood the advantage of avoiding a costly war, and let Norway enter into the union voluntarily, instead of being annexed as a conquered territory (something that, historically, Sweden had never managed to do). Bernadotte recognized the Norwegian Constitution, with only those amendments that were necessary to open up for a union of the two countries.

*Sweden's flag reference. Before Norway shared the same flag as Denmark, and during the turning point in 1814, Norway had changed his flag to something that was practically the same as his old one but now had a lion in the upper left corner. He kept his flag for the first few years of the union, and then it was changed to the current design of the flag, because his people felt that the previous design was too Danish. Later, it was implemented that the Norwegian flag, and also the Swedish flag, had to have a badge on it – the badge was a combination of the Swedish and Norwegian badge colours, and was a symbol of the union. Norway used this flag for the most part of the union. Towards the end, the badge (mockingly called a "herring salad", after the colourful Swedish dish) was looked down upon as humiliating, as nationalist ideas were strong and the people were not supportive of the union. In 1899, six years before the union ended, the flag of Norway changed back to its original design and remains that way until now.