Author's Notes and Disclaimer:

Here's one more entry for the 1983: Doomsday Stories, that could also serve as the last main story involving Austria's perspective. As an added twist, this takes place several years further in the future, showing just how far the world's moving on from Doomsday itself...and the good aristocrat trying to wait for his time. Also expect some call-backs to some of the other fics, including A Wasteland Melody. In any case, hopefully it doesn't come across as entirely sad.

As for the translations and references:

Partium is a survivor state from the source material on the easternmost fringes of the Hungarian wasteland under Transylvania (another Survivor-Nation from Romania). He's also Sopron/Transdanubia's half-brother.

Sopron is in RL a Hungarian city (or rather, half-Austrian, half-Hungarian) along the Austrian border; it used to be called Odenburg. In the AU, she's part of the Alpine Confederation...but at this point, she's become a more powerful Nation by the name of Transdanubia.

United Magyaria is a future projection of the Doomsday-verse, imagining what might happen to Sopron and Partium several years down the line. It's not exactly canon in the source material, but it might be a logical conclusion for "Hungary's Children." Coincidentally, "Budapest Memorial" is another name for the nuclear ruins of Budapest in the AU.

Meine Tochter - "My daughter" (German)
Wien - Vienna (German)
Verzeihung - "Sorry" (German; semi-formal)
Számíthat rám! - "You can count on me!" (Hungarian)

I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or 1983: Doomsday. All rights belong to their respective owners.

A Wasteland Memorial

Or, A 1983 Doomsday Tale through a Nation's Eyes

(A Doomsday Future)

Around the Vienna Exclusion Zone. 2031.

Of all the times and places, Roderich didn't think he'd end up waiting like this. Due to some engine failure, the chartered ferry that would take him to the inaugural ceremonies in Budapest Memorial had to stop here and wasn't scheduled to leave till early evening, at least. While the site had been deemed safe enough to allow people to visit, it would be a long time before anyone, Austrian or otherwise would be living here again. Still, he thought. There have been stranger events.

Brushing off with some difficulty the summer winds gusting about him, the Nation spent much of the time going about the rubble that had once been his people's capital. To think people actually lived here… Apart from a few tourists and the occasional supply post, the landscape remained coldly silent. Very little of the city survived the bombs. The ruins themselves were largely hollowed out, the stone and metalwork in some of them melted. Familiar landmarks and monuments like the Hofburg or St. Stephen's Cathedral were either long gone or had crumbled away. The very ground he stepped on was a mixture of dirt and glass, though here and there sickly patches of grass tried to take root. If there were any bodies left lying around, they would have faded away years ago. Yet even now, he had to force back sharp twitches of pain from wounds that were no longer there.

His mind could still picture with unwanted clarity what happened on September 26, nearly 50 years earlier. What was later on called Doomsday came almost without warning. Austria himself was buying flowers for a clandestine meeting that evening when he heard sirens blazing through the city. Evacuation orders were hastily made while his army mobilized. But by then it was already too late. TV and radio reporters had barely even finished their announcements when two nuclear missiles struck. Beyond that, everything seemed to be an anguished blur for a while. There were the fires, fallout, of screams and gasps from those unlucky to be killed outright by the bombs. Then of fending off Soviets attempting to ravage his land. Of being forced back by Switzerland and his own people for "safety." Of a reunion with Hungary that never came. It's long over now…

"Papa Auztria?" He turned to find his little Sopron, or Transdanubia as people called her these days, gingerly approaching him, though her enthusiasm seemed somewhat forced. "Good news! They're finally done with the ferry! We probably should make good time now, right?"

Somehow, hearing her call him father still surprised him at times. It was also only then that he noticed the sun finally setting. Still, out of more than routine conduct, Roderich managed a relieved smile. "I suppose so, Meine Tochter."

Watching Julia guide him with her delicate hands reminded the Nation that this wouldn't go on forever. His daughter and her new place in the world was proof of that. Indeed, he couldn't help notice how much she had grown into a teenage girl, looking more and more like her late mother in her dress uniform, the flower he gave her sitting neatly on her hair. He also knew that in due time, people would return and rebuild this place. But by then, would they even name it Wien, let alone call themselves Austrian? Not many people remember what life was like before Doomsday. And soon, even they would begin to die...

"Is anything wrong, Papa?"

"I was…just remembering another time, I suppose," he sighed as he cleaned his glasses, only to notice a strand of grey hair fall on his hand. Brushing it away, he quietly followed her back to the ship. Perhaps one day he'd give her a serious tour of the ruins. But then again, it's not my place to burden you with the past, isn't it? he added silently.

-o-

Even with all the new highways, train lines, airship routes being laid out, Austria thought it more fitting, and safer, to use the Danube for getting to the site of the proceedings before other Nations did. If anything, not even Doomsday could ruin much of the timeless beauty of the river that ran through his very much temporary Empire. At least the ceremony's still a few days off.

And yet as the aristocrat looked on at the night sky beyond his window, he felt uneasy. It wasn't so much that Julia's people chose to leave the Alpine Confederation altogether. Or how lately, he seemed to be getting weaker and more exhausted than usual. At the back of his mind, he knew the greying strands of hair were just the beginning. Sooner or later, the centuries would catch up to his body, starting off an irreversible aging not even the most advanced treatments could delay. All while a persistent feeling of his own identity eroding kept gnawing from within, continuing until he'd became a senile shell. He grimaced, wondering just how long it would take before he began resembling Franz Josef on his deathbed. Or become nothing…

"So this what It mortality feels like," he faintly muttered to no one in particular. It must have been one of those strange cosmic ironies, grasping how one could be both utterly forgotten yet certain to be remembered for posterity. So long as there were history books and museums, he was sure, the name and relics of Austria would remain in humankind's memory, even if only as a mere footnote. He had witnessed and outlived so many over countless generations, yet there would be no tombstone or monument down the line for him. That he outlived his beloved Hungary didn't make the pain any less sharp, even now. In the end, only a few would know that one by the name of Roderich Edelstein existed, and in due time he would vanish altogether. Such was the fate of Nations like himself.

"Um…Verzeihung. Was I interrupting something?" He turned, perhaps much to wearily than he would have liked, to find Julia standing close to his seat. There was an unusual tinge of uncertainty in her normally upbeat voice.

Sliding seamlessly to a timid smile, he beckoned her to sit beside him. Best not to trouble her with such bleak matters. "It's just been a tiring day. Nothing for you to be concerned about. Now what seems to bothering you?"

"It's...my pact with Janos," the Survivor-Nation replied rather hesitantly though with strained composure, referring to her half-brother Partium. "Don't get me wrong, Papa. For the peace of my people, I'm willing to do this. But there's so much left to work out. After all the rough patches and quarreling, I don't even know for sure if that Transylvanian wannabe's eager to go through with this whole United Magyaria business. Gott..." She tried forcing back what was clearly a look of frustration. "Everything's going to be fine...right?"

Without a second thought, Austria embraced her, gently whispering that it would all work out. It didn't matter to him anymore if anyone else was watching. And despite all that happened over the years, as difficult as it was to see her leave, she was still his little Sopron. Our Sopron... "You can't miss this opportunity, child," he assured her as he let go. "I've done some regrettable...horrible deeds in the past. But this is your world now, and you have all the right to make use of it. All I ask is for you to be better than any of us ever were." A soft grin entered his face. "Make me...Nein, make us proud."

He smiled contently as something of his daughter's confidence returned, the familiar-looking flower on her hair almost reacting in unison. "Ja, Papa. Számíthat rám!" As she gingerly nodded and stood up to make her way out, she looked back to murmur something just audible enough for the aristocrat alone to hear. "And I'm sure Mama's proud of you too."

The Nation returned the grin as Sopron left. She'll do well out there, I have no doubt of that. Looking back, he saw the illuminated ruins of Budapest Memorial along the river, lively with the sounds of construction. Through the reflection on the mirror, he thought he could see for a moment his, or rather their guardian angel standing across from him in her old uniform. There was look of warm content on her face as she seemed to move up beside him, as though about to wrap her arms around him. It's nice to see you again, my lady. It was comforting reminder that even now, she was still there with him, watching over their family and waiting for the day they would all be together again. And if there was one consolation for all this, it was that in the end, the wait was worth it.

"Please don't worry, Elizaveta," he whispered contently as he closed his eyes. "Everything is alright. I'll see you soon..."