The estate felt empty. It always felt empty. With forty-eight rooms for two people, how could it not? As night closed in, Hungary stared out the window at the endless field of stars. Although she usually enjoyed stargazing - it reminded her of her wild past and her countless adventures on horseback - tonight it felt hollow. The night sky held a blackness without depth that made her feel ever more alone.

She turned around in her oversized chair by the window and looked across the drawing room. Far away - too far away - her husband sat in an oversized chair of his own. The two chairs were a matching set, of course. Custom made. There were only two ways to tell them apart. Hungary's chair was always placed by the room's largest window because she preferred to look outside, and her seat cushion was still as plush as the day the chair was made, because she also preferred to BE outside. Austria's chair, however, was quite well-worn, and it was kept by the fire. He appreciated the flames' scattered crackling to drown out any background noise as he read. It was music for the end of the day, when he was too tired to play any music himself. Seeing as Austria used his piano more than he used his own voice, it was always terribly quiet by this hour. As much as she loved him, Hungary could never get used to it. The terrible, heavy silence of indoors as the skies darkened, locking them in for the night, was so unlike the world she had grown up with. There were no horses fluttering their breaths nor swishing their tails. There was no happy conversation of people setting up their tents nor the clashing of swords as people practiced their defence skills. There were not even any audible crickets or frogs or bats singing along with the night sky. Sometimes, Hungary spoke without having anything to say - she merely needed to puncture the silence, lest she drown in it.

"Austria," she said. Her voice resonated through the room. Austria did not look up from the book he was reading. He raised an eyebrow, indicating that she should go on and tell him whatever it was that she had to tell him. She hadn't thought that far ahead. To comment on the weather showed a lack of creativity - something she had in droves when it came to battle strategy and weapon design, but those could not be written with music notes, so Austria didn't count them. She thought she might say something in appreciation of the room's ornate furnishings, but they both knew she cared nothing for such things. Hungary drew a breath and said the first words that came to her mind.

"Are you lonely?"

Ever so slightly, the corner of Austria's mouth twitched. His mole rose by the edge of the subtlest of smirks.

"Are you proposing we go to bed early tonight?"

Sighing inwardly, Hungary leaned to one side. She gently curled her fist under her chin.

"Aren't I always the one who must propose that?"

"For as long as we've been married," Austria said, "you've always been the less patient between the two of us."

He licked his finger and turned the page.

"But, I agree with you," he said. "Shall I meet you upstairs after this chapter?"

An audible scratch resonated through the drawing room as Hungary curled her nails against the fabric of the chair. Her next words came like gunshots.

"When I asked you if you were lonely," she said through gritted teeth, "I actually meant 'lonely.'"

Austria let his book fall closed, keeping his finger between the pages to keep his place.

"Oh?" he said. There was a hint of disappointment in his voice, yet it was veiled in surprise. He opened his book once more, but shut it again without reading a single word.

"So, you don't wish to - "

"Negotiate the borders of our vital regions?" Hungary said, springing out of her chair. She marched toward Austria, who stood as well as a matter of etiquette. By the time she reached him, the flames in the fireplace were no match for the ones burning within her eyes.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I do. But this time, I want it to be the means to an end."

"Means to an..."

The expression on Austria's face went from confusion to epiphany to fear to irritation. Hungary did not identify any of this, because all of these expressions were displayed through the slight angling of an eyebrow or an arhythmic double blink.

"You... are hoping to conceive a child?"

"Yes!" shouted Hungary, throwing her hands toward the ceiling. "Aren't you?"

Austria remained silent. Hungary rolled her eyes.

"Haven't you ever even thought about it? Or are you too busy with Mozart and Haydn?"

A visible shock ran through Austria's body. He shuddered and waved a scolding finger at Hungary.

"You will leave them out of this!"

Unfazed, Hungary marched around the drawing room, waving vaguely toward the fine architecture and rich furnishings.

"We have all the room in the world," she said, breathless. "All the money in the world. All the time in the world."

She finished parading full-circle, stopping in front of Austria and looking him in the eye.

"You've never thought about sharing this with someone beyond ourselves?"

"I have," was Austria's reply. He stood up straight with his hands folded behind his back. His gaze travelled along the crown molding, although he seemed to be focusing on something else entirely.

"I am well aware of all we have," he said. "And I agree that it would be a shame not to continue our lineage."

He unclasped his hands and let one finger come to rest on his chin.

"Now, when would be the best time to expand the empire? There is much to consider."

"Why not right now?"

"That would be anti-climactic," Austria replied. "Perhaps we should build up political suspense. These days, all the attention is on France, and England and Holland just celebrated their wedding, and what about those two little boys discovered in the New World..."

Hungary shook her head.

"Something tells me you're not approaching this the same way I am."

"I am being strategic."

Casting one last look at Austria, Hungary turned around and marched out of the room.