All is Fair in Love and War.
I do not own Hetalia. However, the version of Israel depicted in this fic is of my own creation.
The world meeting was being held in Greece today.
Israel would have preferred to not be at a world meeting today. It could have been held Monday, or Friday and not inconvenienced her. Unfortunately, it was Yom Kippur and that meant a 24 hour stint of religious fasting. Not that any of the other nations give a damn about her holidays. It was three in the afternoon, that meant she had roughly four hours left before she would absolutely smash her face into that chicken gyro and baklava in the mini fridge in her hotel room. Baruch atah Greece.*
Bang! Israel was tossed out of her low blood sugar fueled daydream and instinctively crouched, covering the back of her neck wither her hands before she realised the suspiciously bomb like noise was just caused by the massive stack of folders Germany had slammed on the table. "Does anyone have any relevant questions about this subject?" The room full of nations went unusually silent. "No? Well then, meeting adjourned." The silence ended with the shuffling of papers, creaking of chairs and footsteps out the door." Israel was slower to react, but picked up and left as well.
Walking somewhat aimlessly down the labyrinthine corridors of whatever government building this happened to be, Israel had Germany on her mind. Yet again. It didn't take a genius to figure out her opinion of him was rather bitter and tainted. To this day, being in close proximity to him sent her blood boiling and her stomach churning and her fight or flight instincts on a feather trigger. She knew he had changed, but she had a long memory and 70+ years wasn't much time at all to an over 5,000 year old entity.
She could still feel the rough ropes digging into the red and raw flesh of her wrists and ankles, the cold hard pack dirt floor against the dehydrated skin of her face, a stark contrast to the stinking mud less than 2 feet down the length of her prone and naked body, where lacking the physical strength to move, she had been forced to soil herself multiple times. And then, HE'd come down the the wooden steps. He'd yell something at her. To save her last shred of dignity, she refused to appear to be in any mental anguish, refuse to answer any of his questions. "Don't give him the satisfaction." she stifled a scream from the sharp pain of a kick to her head by a highly polished black boot. Then he would untie her, and give her a glass of water and a piece of hard tack. She wished she had the willpower to deny herself these offerings. To take anything from her captor caused more pain in her soul than a kick to the face. If Germany hated her so much why not just let her die? As she ate, she watched him, for lack of anything more interesting to look at in the dim and barren cellar. She gave him the evil eye. He sat on a stool. He was so calm and content just watching her. She finished her meager meal and stretched her muscles a bit. Then Germany moved to retie her bonds. Their eyes met. She wished they hadn't. This time, as usual, they were a cold, vacant blue, like the glass eyes of a doll, soulless and dead. His mind was clearly far away from this cellar. Israel didn't know if that was worse than seeing hatred or pity. Israel spit in Germany's face. The glob of low viscosity saliva clung glistening to his cheekbone. He did not wipe it away. Finished with her, he headed to the door. His parting words, in a voice as emotionless as his crystal eyes were "It's beyond me why my boss doesn't like you. You have spirit."
The flashback ended.
Israel sat down on a bench in the hallway. She had continued walking, in autopilot, while her mind had time travelled. PTSD is a real bitch. She was thoroughly lost, not even confident she was on the same floor of this large building as the conference room she had exited had been. This hallway was certainly more ornate, with brass and crystal chandeliers above her head, stone effigies of characters from classical epics inlaid into the walls, a marble parquet floor, heavy wooden doors dispersed betwixt the stone scenery of the walls. Israel could appreciate some good architecture. She took a deep breath. Her stomach rumbled, then dropped. She heard two familiar voices coming from the nearest door. Germany and Greece. A few words floated her way. "Debt...European Union... cars...please, promise, reform, debt."
Then quiet. The two men walked out. Germany turned in Israel's direction. "Guten Abend, Israel." He said with a tinge of bashfulness. I was actually hoping to run acrossed you." He reached his hand into his back pocket, then held out the palm. "You left your pocket watch in the meeting room." Israel took it with out thanking him. She took a deep breath and looked at her feet.
Germany looked at her, and really saw her for the first time in a long time. Her long, wavy brown hair fell over her face, but he could still tell she was biting her lip, her cheeks had a tear stained look. Oh no, he wasn't good with these things. "Hm, er, Is something upsetting you?" Germany hoped she'd say she was fine, then he could leave.
"Why yes, blondey, there is. In fact, I'll give you three guesses as to what the source is!" Israel said sarcastically, with an edge of malice.
"Oh ho boy, look what you got yourself into." Greece walked away, shaking his head and lowly chuckling.
To be continued...
That was rather intense.
I've been sitting on this plot bunny for a long time. The one on one dynamic between Germany and Israel is something that hasn't been explored enough in hetalia fanfiction. This fic should be 3 or 4 chapters long once finished.
*blessed be Greece.
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