This was written for and is dedicated to my AWESOME, INCREDIBLE, FANTABULOUS, AMAZING, BRILLIANT, ETC. friend AUHolmes-PianoPlayer (a.k.a. Emily)! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! ^^ ...Ok, so it's not until June 28th. :3 Still, I had so much fun writing this story that I just had to give out her present early, because she's just epic like that. ;D And so, after she read this little tale, she asked me to publish it here...and of course, I had to comply. :P I did this for my other friends as well, but I still need their permission to post their birthday stories.
PianoPlayer and Hungary-chan need to have DNA tests, because as far as their personalities go, they could be sisters. :P (One reason I like Hungary so much. ;D) AustriaxHungary is her favorite anime pairing of all time (as well as one of mine), so I had to appeal to all fangirl senses. XP That is why fluff should be expected in some parts. I also did my best on adding comedy, though it's not my strong suit in writing...
I must warn you all...in my rush to finish this, I pulled an all-nighter, so I expect that I may have made some scenes too dramatic or too cliche or just poorly written in general...*shame* I may actually repost this with better editing, but PianoPlayer said she liked it the way it was and didn't want me to change a thing, so for now I'll keep it this way. And yes, this is all based on actual events, though I did use a bit of artistic license in some ALWAYS, REVIEWS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED!
Ugh...long author's note is long. Don't worry, it's almost over. XP Please enjoy...and PianoPlayer, if you're reading this, once again-HAPPY (very early) BIRTHDAY! :DDD
Disclaimer: Himaruya-sensei owns Hetalia. Coldplay owns the song "Viva la Vida". DO I OWNZ ANYTHING? NAO. :I
Also, I call Hungary-chan Erzsebet, which is the Hungarian form of Elizabeth. I say this because I know most people call her Elizaveta, so please dont get confused! (Incidentally, PianoPlayer was originally going to be named Erzebet. ;3)
With the stealth and calculating patience of a cat stalking its prey, the young boy ever so slowly inched open one of the huge wooden double doors of his master's mansion, careful not to make the slightest sound as he did so. When the opening he'd made was just wide enough, he peered out into the huge courtyard, scanning in every direction for any sign of people. He was determined that this time he would not be spotted.
Good, no one's here, he thought to himself with a rapidly growing sense of glee.
Throwing caution to the warm summer wind that blew that day, an nine-year-old Austria flung open the doors the rest of the way and stepped out into the sun's welcoming rays. If there were a perfect day to enjoy one of his rare tastes of freedom, it had to be this one. The sun was a blazing blue, a solid-colored canvas that stretched indefinitely beyond the horizon. The seasonal heat was tempered by the breeze, which tousled the emerald leaves on the branches of trees and swept through the child's brown hair, seeming to beckon him. If he could, he would have answered its call, followed it to the ends of the Earth.
It was picturesque, out of a storybook…almost too perfect.
"Austria!"
And as a matter of fact, it was.
He groaned, feeling his good mood quickly departing, and turned around reluctantly to see a fuming Holy Rome marching toward him. "What did I tell you about going out here? And especially in those clothes! Those are your new ones, and…!" This was about all the boy heard, as he had blocked out the rest of his boss's tirade, and was now just staring up at him with a glazed, blank look in his amethyst eyes. Holy Rome had been turning into more and more of a parental figure to him lately…and not in a good way. He probably wants me to be some kind of society member or something.
"I'm going to practice the piano," Austria stated matter-of-factly, interrupting his master in mid-rant and starting for the large but stuffy mansion. The idyllic summer garden scene behind him, so close and yet so far, now seemed to only mock him.
Holy Rome gawked after him, astounded that there could be so much gall in such a small boy. "Wait a minute, you! Don't you dare start playing until you've—" Austria dashed inside and slammed the door shut behind him before the man could complete his threat. Because technically, if I don't know what he wants me to do, I can't get yelled at for not doing it. He smirked, feeling rather proud of his cleverness.
He stepped through a long, carpeted hallway until he reached the third door on the right. Inside was his refuge—the music room. Sunlight streamed through the huge arched windows, brightening the entire room and casting a natural spotlight onto the shining ebony piano. He couldn't help but grin as he took his seat at the red velvet bench and allowed his fingers, surprisingly long and nimble for one so young, lightly brush the black and white keys. If he won't let me go outside, fine. I'll just escape with music.
And he did. He stroked and pounded on the instrument, oddly comforted by the familiarity of its cold, smooth ivory. His melodies flowed naturally from one to the other, changing keys, spanning scales. He imagined that every note, every chord was a color—G major was bright yellow, B sharp was a fiery red, A minor was a deep sea blue, and so on. His symphony became a brilliant rainbow before his eyes: the artist at work, that's how he saw himself. Everything around him, especially time, began to disappear into worthlessness.
It was only when the piece had ended that he happened to glance up and see a glinting object resting forgotten on a nearby chair, caught by the light. "Hmm…Holy Rome's old reading glasses," he said aloud to himself with a hint of mischief. He quickly snatched them up and put them on. They slipped down his nose, but stayed on his face. He quickly hopped off the piano bench and ran up to a mirror to look at himself. He actually didn't look that bad…the spectacles seemed to bring out the violet in his eyes and make him not look quite so plain.
He straightened, smoothing out his navy blue coat and sticking out his small chest a bit in an attempt to look regal. One day I'll run stupid Holy Rome into the ground. He smirked, thinking about the empire that would someday be his. The Austrian Empire…I like the sound of it. And I'll be the one to control Europe.
I used to rule the world,
Seas would rise when I gave the word
"WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND LET A FOUR-YEAR-OLD INTO THE HORSE STABLES?"
A young Hungary laughed out loud as she heard this shout behind her and bid her pony to go faster. Gray clouds rolled above her, and the cool breeze brought with it the foreboding scent of rain. She could make out the low rumbling of thunder far off in the distance, muffled by her animal's hooves pounding the fertile plain. She didn't mind; she loved getting caught out in storms.
Come on…keep going. She willed the creature beneath her to move faster, faster. It was a game she always played with herself, seeing if she could move so quickly that she managed to leave the ground and get picked up by the sweeping wind. She tried to become lighter than air. It was a game she always lost, but it didn't matter to her.
"Get back here, you!"
She realized that she was being followed by people from the settlement. Irritated at her fantasy being abruptly ruined, she grudgingly ground her horse to a halt and turned to see a group of three men riding toward her.
"What the hell do you want? Fuck, you bastards never let me have any fun!" she pouted.
The men sighed in unison, wondering how any child Hungary's age, particularly a girl, knew so many swears. That is…she was a girl, wasn't she? Oftentimes they couldn't be positive...
She hopped off her steed, landing skillfully on her feet and brushing her short, messy locks of light brown hair out of her green eyes. "Never mind. I'm going to practice with my bow!"
"But…you've never shot an arrow once in your life!" one of the villagers pointed out. "How do you know you won't hit someone?"
Hungary simply smirked. "I don't."
They looked at her in silence for another moment, then turned and galloped back toward home.
She giggled triumphantly as the first drops of rain began to fall.
I used to roll the dice,
Feel the fear in my enemies' eyes.
He was bored.
Austria was twenty years old, and he was completely and utterly bored.
Yes, he'd finally managed to leave Holy Rome's shadow (although had not yet created a kingdom to call his own) and had become more or less "the controller" in the household. Yes, he'd already put his military skill to good use and gained several territories on his own. Yes, he was a success.
So now what?
This was his thought as he sprawled apathetically across the long red couch, staring dully at the ceiling with glasses askew on his face. He couldn't believe it—he was going through his mid-life crisis before he even reached thirty.
"Sir?" A servant walked in.
"Yes?" Austria sighed heavily, as though the mere act of talking was exhausting to him. He knew that his clothes were wrinkled and that his hair was probably a mess, but he didn't bother to straighten himself out.
The servant approached and cleared his throat. "Well, I've been told by the generals to inform you that there is an opportunity to gain more land in another country…it should be easy pickings, if you wish to take advantage of it."
At last he lifted himself up off the couch, sitting up straight with an eyebrow cocked. Of course he would take advantage of it—anything was better than simply staying cooped up and twiddling his thumbs. "Which country?"
She ran.
Dusk had already settled over the battlefield, leaving behind only a dim grayish light. The sun had already surrendered to the night, and the deep cobalt sky was growing darker by the minute. Overhead, the first stars had just begun to make their presence known. The looked down on the Earth like the keen, pupil-less eyes of some strange creature. Not far away, one of many destroyed villages continued to smolder and burn. Wild and unrelenting, red-orange beasts roared and extended their fangs of flame to consume everything they came into contact with.
And she ran.
Damn it, damn it, damn it all to hell! This thought, along with several other combinations of swear words, were all that Hungary's panicked mind was able to process as she charged through the plain, kicking up dirt and crushing plants beneath her feet. She had been separated from the rest of her people's army during the battle while she was out scouting, and she hadto get back somehow before the Ottoman Empire's goons found her. Normally they wouldn't be a problem for her…but several centuries of on-again-off-again war and invasion takes its toll.
And though she would never dare show it, this most recent conflict had pushed Hungary's defenses—and Hungary herself—to a breaking point.
She skidded to a stop and quickly crouched down into the cover of the tall grasses, sure to keep below the horizon line. She attempted to catch her breath and slow her racing heartbeat, her sharp eyes flashing in the dark. She had the ominous, trapped feeling of prey as she became aware of every noise, every shadow around her.
It was at that moment that she heard a rustling just ahead of her.
Immediately she stopped all movement, including her breathing, focusing all her energy on the sound. She strained her vision, trying to distinguish shapes in the growing blackness…
It was her mistake to become distracted, because she didn't hear the footfall behind her until the very last second.
All at once, she felt two, three, at least five pairs of burly hands take hold of her at once. She felt herself getting shoved down into the ground on her stomach, knocking the wind out of her and slamming her jaw down hard into the earth. Her arms were pulled behind her back, immobilizing her. She struggled and writhed beneath their grip in an enraged and desperate attempt to break free, but this only resulted in her being held tighter. Even she couldn't fight back against so many at once, especially in her weakened state.
She saw two large boots walking slowly, almost nonchalantly toward her. Even without seeing the face of the man, she knew automatically that she was facing the one known as the Ottoman Empire, and the people who restrained her were his soldiers.
"Well, well," he said with an obvious mocking sneer in his voice. He lifted her chin forcefully upward with the toe of his boot so that she was made to face him, so that he could scrutinize her. "I didn't know snakes grew this large out here."
She snarled at him in reply, emerald eyes furiously blazing. Her breath came out in short huffs through tightly clenched teeth. Though most of his face was concealed in darkness, she could make out two narrowed, shining black eyes. She resisted the urge to shudder.
His cold grin grew wider. "I expected you to be harder to defeat, Hungary…I suppose I simply overestimated you. My mistake."
"And I expected your face would look less like an ass…guess I overestimated you,"she growled.
An instant later, she felt a shooting pain in her skull intense enough to temporarily blind her. Bursts of colored light exploded before her eyes as she felt herself spiraling down, down, the relief of unconsciousness tempting her. She bit her tongue and focused on that pain in an attempt to keep from passing out. It took her a while before she realized she had just been kicked in the head.
"Watch your tongue, stupid girl!" His taunting tone had been replaced by one with a harsh, unfeeling edge. Hungary was too busy fighting the urge to faint to respond.
"Never mind…we've already gained half your territory. We have no more use for you. Let's go!"
She was released, and the men walked away. For several minutes after the last of their footsteps had faded away, she simply lay there.
Now in the mornings I sleep alone,
Sweep the streets I used to own.
After a while she made an attempt to get up, only to realize that her entire body seemed to ache. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest. She noticed that she was trembling, probably from exhaustion. The bruises all over her made it obvious—she was war-weary, she was done.
Most of all, she was defeated.
No…she would not cry. That would be admitting that they'd truly gotten to her, that she had been pushed beyond a point of no return.
Right now, she just wanted rest.
One minute I held the key.
Next the walls were closed on me,
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand.
Well…this is unexpected.
It was the next morning that Austria found himself standing over an unconscious girl, her chest slowly rising and falling with her breath. A curtain of wheat-colored hair framed her face, which had a smear of dirt on the left side. Her brow seemed to be slightly furrowed as though in thought.
He had brought an entire army out to these plains to find a country to conquer—instead they'd stumbled upon a child. Just my goddamn luck.
He bent down to look at the girl more closely, wondering whether or not to wake her up. His men, disinterested, had already scattered and gone off to search the territory. Now that he looked more closely, he saw that "child" wasn't a fair word to use. She couldn't have been much younger than he. And the smudge on her cheek wasn't dirt as he'd originally thought. Is that…dried blood?
Without warning, he saw her eyes snap wide open, incredibly alert. In a split second, before he could react, she drew her knife out of the scabbard on her thigh and slashed at his face. He jumped back from the glinting blade as it whistled past him, slicing the air.
A rather malicious grin spread across the girl's face as she held her weapon in an attacking position. "Sneaky little bastard, aren't you?"
He stared at her in shock for a moment, before putting two and two together. "You're…Hungary?" he managed to make out.
She rolled her eyes. "What do you think, moron? And let me guess—you want some of my land too, huh? You think you can just waltz right on in here and have it all for yourself? Bullshit. That Ottoman Empire guy got lucky last night, alright? Stay the hell away from my happy place!"
Her what-now? He decided against asking. Now that he really got a good look at her…well, it was hard to describe her. She wasn't exactly pretty, but he couldn't deny that something about her was intriguing. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it seemed to draw him in, forcing him to look closer, teasing him. Perhaps it was the eyes—two forest-green pools that gleamed brightly, like light reflecting off pure glass. They appeared to swirl with a mixture of emotions, some obvious and some that required a closer inspection in order to identify them: mostly he saw a wild nature and a fiery determination, but there was something else in there as well…something almost like desperation, it seemed. Perhaps there was even something more, deep within, hidden from his view.
"I didn't come here just to get turned away," he told her. "I take it you won't come quietly, but either way, you're coming with me."
She scoffed at his authoritative tone. "Yeah? And what the hell makes you so sure of that?"
He couldn't help but be amused as Hungary's expression changed very suddenly from anger to realization, and as she slowly turned around to face a battalion of Austrian soldiers behind her.
"…Fuck."
She was marched down a seemingly endless corridor in a high-class mansion. Coarse rope bound her wrists together behind her. She was being flanked by two guards and, walking briskly in front of her, the four-eyed douche led the way. A childish part of her brain was hoping that if she glared at him enough, she would burn a hole in the back of his skull.
Honestly, she couldn't even stand to look the guy in the face, he radiated such head-to-toe arrogance and had such an aristocratic ego. His intelligent purple eyes (Who the hell has purple eyes anyway? she thought) bothered her the most. They were uncomfortably stoic and unreadable. They appeared to hide behind his glasses, using them as a shield. Not to mention that ridiculous mole next to his mouth.
"Here we are," Mole-Face said at last as he turned to a door and carefully turned the knob.
She stepped in after him and saw a bright room with little furniture, save for the large piano that sat proudly in the middle of the floor as a centerpiece.
Mole-Face gestured for the two guards to leave and shut the door as soon as they were outside. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a flashing silver object—a knife. Her knife, which had been taken from her upon her capture.
She stiffened as he walked up behind her, then paused, contemplating.
"If I let you go," he began at last, "can I trust that you won't do anything?"
"No," she spat, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
He hesitated before cutting the ropes. He then placed the knife in her hand. "Hold that," he ordered.
She could only blink at him in astonishment as he stepped over to the piano. How cocky is this idiot? He just captured me, and now he's turning his back on me while I'm holding a goddamn knife?
He sat before the instrument and turned back to her. "Well? What are you still standing over there for? Sit down here."
She didn't particularly enjoy that prospect, but felt more comfortable now that she had a weapon back in her grasp. Reluctantly, she sat down with her back to the piano, as far away from Mole-Face as was physically possibly while still staying on the bench.
He stared down at the keys for a long moment before beginning to play.
She listened carefully as he became increasingly engrossed in the piece. She couldn't pretend not to be at least a little bit impressed; she hadn't expected him to be this good. The music transitioned smoothly from one phrase to the next, the melodies vivid and lively.
She stood just as the song came to a close. There was a moment of silence as he looked up at her, waiting for a response. She turned away, suddenly apprehensive. "Yeah, well…it was good. The piano isn't really my instrument."
He looked more interested than ever. "What is your instrument, then?"
She absentmindedly fingered her sleeve, still wary. "Oh…violin, I guess."
At once he got up and half-walked, half-jogged out of the room. Hungary stood there for a full minute until he came back in carrying something stout and wooden. He handed her the violin and bow before she could open her mouth to question him. "I have a collection with all kinds of instruments," he explained. "Now go on and play something."
She simply stared at him rather stupidly for a long while before nervously tucking the instrument under her chin. She had never been incredibly skilled in any musical pursuit, mostly because she never had the patience for it. Racking her brain, she settled for a folk song from her country, one that she'd heard since she was young and managed to learn on her own.
Cautiously, delicately at first, she began moving the bow back and forth across the strings. She gradually felt herself settle into a comfortable rhythm as the melody progressed. The bow moved back and forth with more confidence and enthusiasm.
She became so taken in by the music that she nearly jumped when a few piano chords cut straight through the tune of the violin, abruptly stopping her song.
Austria, who had snuck back over to the piano bench when she hadn't been looking, turned back to her. This time, the look in his eyes was obvious: mischief.
She returned his playful smirk, preparing herself to resume playing. His interruption of her song was clearly an unspoken challenge…and she accepted.
The battle began: note against note, rhythm against rhythm, instrument against instrument. She would play part of a song, then he would play a harder one, then she would play a harder one still, and so on. The speed and volume of the music steadily increased, along with the intensity, as the two musicians practically began to sweat with the effort.
Or, more precisely, until one of the violin's strings broke with a discordant twang.
"Dammit!" Hungary hissed, although she was laughing as she did so.
Austria also chuckled in return. "Sorry…I should've told you that thing hasn't seen use in years." He suddenly looked her in the eye, now back to his usual serious self. "Now how about it, then? Are you going to join with me?"
Her smile faded from her face almost as soon as he had finished his blunt question. She looked away, not answering. The stark silence that pervaded the room, compared to the music of a moment ago, seemed to weigh down uncomfortably on the atmosphere there.
He stood and took a few firm steps toward her. "I know your home hasn't been doing well lately." She whipped her head around to glare at him. She was irritated at the frankness of his statement, more so because she knew it was true.
"You can be a sovereign state if you want," he continued persisted, obviously not prepared to give up until she was convinced.
And it worked. Her glower melted away, morphing into a look of bewilderment, as though he'd just told her to go talk a walk on the surface of the moon. "You…you'd let me stay independent? You really would let me be sovereign?"
He nodded, a slight but genuine grin beginning to appear on his face. "Of course."
She continued to simply gaze at him. She didn't mean to act like a moron, but…what was he playing at? She hadn't come to expect such courtesy from the people who were trying to conquer her. And she'd had plenty of experience with that recently.
Why was he offering her such respect?
Slowly but surely, she began to return Austria's smile with one of her own. "I'll join you…if you think you can keep up."
Maybe she could get used to that mole.
Hungary viewed herself in the mirror, wearing her green servant uniform with the white lace apron. It had been several months since she'd moved in with Austria. Before that time, her skin would've crawled at the thought of putting on a dress. Doing so voluntarily would have been literally unimaginable. She'd gotten used to them since then…besides, she didn't look half bad in them.
It was then that Austria walked in…and, upon seeing her examining her reflection, quickly closed the door again while muttering an embarrassed apology: "Oh mein Gott! I, ah…I'm sorry, I didn't know you were still…still changing in here…I just…"
Hungary opened the door and grinned up at him, leaning forward slightly. "Don't worry about it, Austria-san! I was decent, anyway!"
He couldn't help but give her a wavering smile back, willing himself not to let color flood his cheeks. He still didn't understand how the roguish, defiant girl he had met that first time had made such a quick and dramatic turnaround.
"Er, anyway…you wanted these for your room, right? Since they're in season?" He held out a handful of small, snow-white flowers, each with five pointed petals protruding from the center that made the blossoms look like earth-fallen stars.
Her eyes lit up. "You got me edelweiss, Austria-san!" She acted as though he were handing her a stack of gold bars.
He coughed nervously. It's not the same thing a boyfriend would do! She asked for them, didn't she? "Yes, well, I just thought that—" He paused in mid-sentence as he looked past Hungary and into her room. His eyes slowly widened in terror as they witnessed an unspeakable scene of horror there before him.
"What is THAT?"
"Huh?"
He shoved the flowers into Hungary's hand and raced into the room, picking up a moth-eaten pair of underwear off the floor. "What is the meaning of this awful waste? If Franz Josef I saw this perfectly good piece of clothing simply lying around, he would be disgusted! Disgusted, I say! I've never seen such a horrific display of—"
His mad ravings were cut short by a frying pan slamming into the back of his head with a resounding metallic clang. "That's what you get for touching my underwear, pervert!" Hungary then set down her impromptu weapon and said sweetly, "I'm going to go start breakfast." She left a barely conscious Austria limp and motionless on the floor.
That was how it was for several years, the two of them living together as friends—nothing more, nothing less.
But, of course, things change.
And the most important change that occurred was Holy Rome losing his empire and fading away into God-knows-where. It wasn't as though he died, exactly—he was simply there one day and gone the next. He became a figurehead in a history book. Naturally, Austria took over for him, became the true owner of the household that had once belonged to him. He at last had achieved his ambition of having his own empire, a tangible kingdom that he could control on his own.
That's when the real change began to occur—the change in Austria himself.
And Hungary began to notice it from the very beginning.
It was subtle at first. He became more reclusive and drawn into himself; he would sometimes retreat into his dark office with doors and windows closed for hours on end. She could see himself slowly becoming more disheveled, more sleep-deprived…one morning he had even forgotten to put on his glasses (which, even though he didn't require them, he never forgot). The baggy, grayish circles under his eyes seemed to become more prominent every day.
His attitude toward her even changed.
He became more distant toward her, not bothering to greet her when she walked into a room, rarely speaking to her unless spoken to. When they did have conversations (if they could truly be called that), he usually answered her in the shortest way possible before going immediately back to his work. There were times when he would snap at her for the most trivial reasons…but mostly he ignored her. And that was almost worse.
She attempted to deny it all at first. She assumed that it was just a temporary phase caused by his growing stress, or that he simply hadn't been getting enough rest lately. When he snubbed her, she would simply straighten up and turn away. She would force herself not to feel the hurt.
Never mind it, she told herself firmly. It's not like I'm his puppy or anything. I don't need his constant attention.
But that was before she overheard his conversation with his generals. It was before she stood outside the door and heard him talk of his plans of conquest.
And it was before she heard him talk about taking away his promise that she would remain an independent state. She heard him plotting to make her a part of his empire, under his total rule.
She heard him go back on his word.
And that unleashed an all-out civil war inside her head.
Part of her wanted to completely deny what she knew. She wanted to tell herself that she had misunderstood his words, or that he was spouting all this nonsense while in some kind of feverish delirium, or that it was all a nightmare and that she would wake up to the Austria she knew before his damned empire rose to power—that empire which was slowly eating his real self alive.
The other part felt the full brunt of his words—the feeling in her stomach like a slowly sinking stone, the tornado of emotion that whirled violently inside her. This was the part that realized his betrayal. And this was the part that ultimately won over.
Her shock twisted itself into anger. She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into the flesh; her vision was distorted by the hot tears that pooled in her eyes. The intensity of her own rage grew and boiled inside. She could feel herself slowly morphing back into her earlier self, her wilder, fiercer side.
That side of her wanted to make him regret it…all of it.
It was the wicked and wild wind,
Blew down the doors to let me in,
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn't believe what I'd become.
Austria slammed his hand down onto the oak desk with a bang that made the young messenger jump back a foot. "What do you mean she's begun a revolution?"
The poor novice soldier seemed to be resisting the urge to tremble. "W-we don't know why, sir, or where she's gone. All we know is that the revolutionaries have been attacking major cities, and they're much stronger than we first thought. They're protesting your rule…" he tapered off into an anxious silence, suspecting that he'd said too much.
Austria paced uselessly around his office like an agitated animal. Why? Why would she, of all people, do something like this?
He stormed past the soldier and out the door.
He wouldn't wait to find out the answer.
Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate.
Just a puppet on a lonely string,
Oh, who would ever wanna be King?
In the dark, she heard the click of a revolver being loaded behind her. She didn't have to wonder who it belonged to.
Damn…I didn't think he'd be able to find me this quickly!
She turned slowly to face him.
If looks could kill, they would have both instantaneously dropped dead on the spot. For a small eternity, the only sound that passed between them was the occasional whoosh of night wind sweeping through the trees.
Hungary was the first to speak. "Well, look who decided to show up…and what the hell do you think you're doing, pointing that piece of shit at me?" She hadn't spoke to him—or anyone, really—in that burning, agressive, malevolent tone since what seemed like eons ago.
Austria's glare turned even colder, if that was possible. "We're at war now, Hungary…if you choose to make yourself my enemy, all I can do is treat you like one." His entire body was tense and unfeeling; he seemed to be in a state of total focus and determination. But she detected it—in his low, threatening voice, she'd heard a faint undertone that gave away his confusion and hurt.
Hah…he doesn't know, does he? He doesn't know why I turned against him. Well, if he hasn't figured it out by now, maybe he is a lost cause after all, eh?
Suddenly, she started to chuckle—just a little bit at first, hardly audible. But how it escalated, until her meager giggles had warped, and she was now cackling with laughter: humorless, disturbed laughter that she was powerless to control.
Austria simply continued to stare solemnly, while inside her sudden maniac behavior tore him apart, clawing at him like a vicious, roaring animal-piece by piece, more and more of him being agonizingly ripped out every second.
Hungary…what's happening to you?
At last, she gained just enough control over her voice to speak…or, rather, yell.
"I JUST THINK IT'S FUNNY, Y'KNOW? IT'S FUNNY HOW EVEN AFTER ALL THIS TIME, ALL YOU CAN DO IS STARE AT ME LIKE AN IDIOT! LIKE YOU HAVE NO GODDAMN IDEA WHAT'S GOING ON! YOU THINK I'M STUPID? YOU THINK I WOULDN'T FIGURE IT OUT? I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO DO WITH YOUR PRECIOUS LITTLE EMPIRE! YOU WANT ME TO BE UNDER YOUR RULE INSTEAD OF MY OWN! AND YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T DO THAT! YOU PROMISED, DAMMIT! SO THAT'S WHY IT'S JUST FUCKING HILARIOUS!"
She finally paused for a breath. Austria was shocked into silence for a long while before gathering himself enough to respond. His defensive stance had not shifted in the slightest, but it was obvious in his face and in his voice that the outburst had caused him to falter.
"W-well…maybe I wanted to do something for myself for once! Maybe I wanted to prove that my empire could succeed where others failed! I don't want to be seen as weak…did you see Holy Rome towards the end of his life? Did you see how frail he was? I…" he hesitated, searching desperately for the right words. "I wanted to prove myself, alright? Maybe I got carried away, but I just wanted to show people that I could do it on my own!"
Hungary merely shook her head slowly, rage and pain aflame in her eyes. "You really are an idiot." Her voice was a hoarse whisper compared to just minutes ago. "How can you possibly think you don't have any self-worth, when—" She stopped abruptly, obviously catching herself saying some turning away.
He gave her a suspicious look. "When what?"
She only bit down on her bottom lip and shut her eyes, refusing to look at him.
He grit his teeth impatiently, losing what was left of his composure, growing increasingly furious at her lack of response. "Hungary…answer me."
"…"
"Hungary!"
She spun around. "How can you say that you don't have self-worth when you're the one who gave me worth? When you were the first one who treated me like a country—no, like a person—instead of just an available piece of land? That's what I was going to say, alright? Happy, now? How could you ever think that you have no worth?"
As soon as she finished her last sentence, she broke down into long-overdue tears. Her shoulders involuntarily shook with the force of her loud sobs, and though her long hair shielded much of her face, Austria could still see moisture glistening on her cheeks as she continued to weep.
He completely forgot about holding his ground as he stood there, wide-eyed, and absorbed what she had just said. His hands fell to his side, and the gun fell to the ground next to him with a muffled clatter. The revelation of what he'd done to himself—and more importantly, to her—since he had created his kingdom washed over him like flood waters engulfing him, swallowing him.
And as he looked at the sobbing girl—this girl who believed he had merit and importance in his life—he only had one thought running through his mind: What have I done?
For some reason I can't explain
Once you go there was never,
Never an honest word,
But that was when I ruled the world.
He ran forward and embraced her, holding her as close as he could. Immediately she began twisting and screaming and doing everything else she could to escape his grasp, but he simply held on.
He was not about to let her go again.
"Erzsébet…" he whispered into her ear as she continued to struggle, the word flowing softly out of his lips as smoothly as running water. He closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, as though trying to make her a part of his breath, a part of himself. "You had worth long before we happened upon each other. You accepted me. You gave me purpose. I'm not going to tell you all you've done for me since we started living together, because it would take up far too much time…time we don't have right now. There's only one way I know how to begin making everything up to you." He pulled back in order to meet her gaze. He stared into her deep jade irises, wondering how he didn't notice before how beautiful she really was.
"Will you marry me?"
She suddenly froze, no longer trying to escape him. She looked up at him, silently asking him to confirm what she thought she'd just heard.
He answered the question by gently pressing his lips to hers.
Instantly a sudden warmth inside her body flared up, racing through her veins like an electric shock, spreading the sensation from her head down to her feet. Her eyes widened at the surge of pleasure, and she noticed that a few teardrops were beginning to escape from his eyes as well…but he was smiling.
Will you marry me? Will you marry me? The question repeated over and over in her head. She didn't want to stop hearing it.
Slowly closing her eyes, she returned his kiss. Yes. Of course I will. Yes.
epilogue
Austria opened his eyes slowly, needing time to adjust to consciousness after his long nap. Outside, wind continued to slap rain against the windows like handfuls of pebbles. He'd always had a tendency to sleep more than necessary on storm-filled days such as this one.
He sat up and realized that he had an open Sherlock Holmes book resting upside down on his stomach. He really had to remember to stop reading while he was already half asleep.
It was also from this position that he could see the picture on the side table: the one of the two of them on their wedding day, both smiling widely into the camera.
He smiled to himself, somewhat ruefully. Even after the divorce, he continued to keep that picture in a visible spot, simply because it reminded him of a happy time in his life...but their holy matrimony wasn't meant to last. The fact was that married life simply hadn't been for them.
"Oh, you're finally up, Austria!"
He yelped in surprise, turning around to see Hungary—who had not been there when he'd drifted off to sleep—stepping out of the kitchen.
"H-how long have you been in here?"
She shrugged. "A couple hours. I let myself in." She then jumped on the couch, landing directly on top of Austria, who let out an odd noise that sounded a bit like "oof". She stared at him intently. "Come on…you said we could do it today," she reminded him in a slightly whiney, child-like voice.
He grinned up at her and gently brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, working his way down to her neck. She softly giggled and pecked him affectionately on the nose in return.
Married life simply hadn't been for them…because they didn't need a word to define how they felt about each other. Nor did they need the attention of others on the outside asking them how their relationship was doing. That is why they told no one about the fact that they still saw each other after their "splitting up". They wanted the privacy of their own little world. They wanted the company of no one else but each other.
He winked at her as his smile grew wider. "Come on…let's go upstairs."