For the PolLiet Anniverary Contest on deviantart. Happy Anniversary, you two! July 1st was the signature of the Union of Lublin, which officiated the beginning of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. My story speaks of the end of it, but the end of the Commonwealth does not spell the end of their love :)

Toris woke to nothing but silence and he sat up in panic, reaching next to him with trembling fingers –

- Warm, smooth flesh met his touch and Toris sighed, leaning back onto the pillows and trying to calm his breathing. Feliks was here, with him. Toris heard nothing but the slow ticking of the clock in the hall, but at least, oh at least, he still had Feliks.

"…mph… Liet…?" the little blonde mumbled thickly into his pillow. His slim hand fumbled around before finding Toris', squeezing tightly. "Wha –"

Then Feliks froze, too, obviously feeling the silence as well.

"Oh my god," Feliks whispered. "It really has happened."

The Third Partition of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth took place in 1795 as the third and last of three partitions that ended the existence of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.

They slowly moved out of bed, holding hands and tiptoeing each step, afraid of every creak of the floorboards, every noise that only echoed.

They did not feel the constant ache of their people, the fear or anger or desperation as they resisted Russian, Prussian, Austrian invasion. They did not hear the sounds of millions of heartbeats.

Ivan, Gilbert, and Roderich had done as they promised. The Commonwealth was gone.

Feliks and Toris were human.

They'd been assured that they would not age. They'd been assured that they would not die. Everything had been laid before them at the last treaty-signing. Of course, they had not participated, rather, watched the three countries before them cut deep into their lands, into their skin.

"Do not fear, you will not disappear. I don't think!" Ivan had told them with a giggle. Gilbert had leered, winking as the hissed syllables of "Tannenberg" slipped from his lips. Roderich had looked completely impassive, presiding over the divisions, making sure all had fair pieces.

"What now?" Feliks whispered into the quiet of the kitchen, standing in his sleeping shift and bare feet and shivering.

As if sleepwalking, Toris drifted over to the hearth, pushing at the coals inside and trying to relight them, to warm the chilled house. Already October, and a cold snap had hit. It was only fortunate that they'd taken the rye in.

Toris stood, straightened, and looked at Feliks, alone and pale in the middle of the kitchen. He caught his partner's eyes, nodding determinedly.

"Breakfast. Milk Stokrotka and bring me eggs." Toris was proud of himself; his voice barely shook as he looked around for the fresh rye flour and the jar of strawberry preserves. "I can make cakes and –"

Feliks blinked at him blankly. Lost. So lost.

Toris strode over to him, grabbing his shoulders and pressing a long, desperate kiss to his lips.

"We will be alright, Feliks. Spirit of the Phoenix. We will rise again."

Feliks pitched forward, and Toris was barely able to adjust to catch the fierce hug he was thrown into. It lasted only a second, before Feliks broke away and smirked at Toris with almost his old grin.

"Well, like, obviously. 'Cuz it's you and me. Nothing can keep us down for long."

He skipped over to his work boots and coat at the door, putting them on over his nightclothes and going to care for the animals.

The harvest had been taken in, preparations had been made for winter. Even in the midst of an uprising, they'd been careful of that. Now would be the season for court visits, for trips to the city and paperwork and diplomacy.

Would be.

"Liet, the house is grey. Too grey. We need color. Like, now. Like, now now."

Toris had been trying to read the bible Feliks had once given him, and failing fairly miserably at keeping his attention on it.

"Um… what is it you have in mind?"

"We are going to pick flowers," Feliks said firmly. "There's gotta be a few left before the frost comes up, and we're going to find them."

Toris knew that he'd need to leave the house eventually. Still, the idea… at least, inside the house, it was familiar. He knew every inch, even if his perception was suddenly skewed, as if seeing it underwater, or by candlelight. Outside – it was his land, he could think of it always as his land, except it wasn't anymore.

Maybe Feliks didn't notice; maybe he noticed and didn't care. Or maybe he knew exactly what Toris needed and when he needed it. Whichever way, those slim, smooth, warm hands hooked themselves around Toris' wrists and yanked him to his feet with a latent strength borne of farming and breaking ponies.

Toris rose to his feet, but he noticed that Feliks' grip didn't have the same firmness or power it once had. The superhuman nation strength was gone, replaced by Feliks' own bone and sinew, nothing more.

It could have been sad, frightening, empty. Instead, Toris felt like he was seeing Feliks for the first time, without the glamour of nationhood. Stripped down from "Polska" to being what he was at the core. His humanity. His "Feliks"-ness.

Toris kissed his hand like he used to at court, to make Feliks giggle, then went to find his boots.

It got even colder when the sun went down but they didn't go back inside. Instead, they ran through the gutted rye fields to where the tiny scrub forest crept up to them, and climbed the biggest, sturdiest tree. It faced the west, and they'd built a wood platform up there almost the same day they'd bought the farm. It had lasted for centuries.

They sat there now, Feliks with a wad of dandelions in his lap. He'd forgotten his gloves, and had one hand in his pocket, and one in Toris'. Toris had taken off his own glove, and just held Feliks' fingers tightly as they watched the sun go down.

The rye fields were orange and blue with shadow, the little house gleaming in the last rays of light. The sight never ceased to amazing Toris. It was his, all this was –

"Liet, aw, Liet, don't cry!"

Before Toris could realize that was exactly what he was doing, he had a lapful of squirming Pole and half-warm thumbs were smoothing moisture away from his cheeks.

"It's okay, really, I promise," Feliks whispered softly, kissing his cheeks. "It's okay – what's wrong, you gotta tell me."

Toris closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Feliks'. He wasn't supposed to be the one breaking down. He was supposed to be the strong one.

"It isn't ours anymore. I wanted to look at the horizon and remember that it's ours, but it's not."

Feliks just rubbed their noses together, a small smile on his lips. "Are you, like, kidding me? What'd you say to me this morning, was that just talk?"

Toris blinked.

"It is ours, ya know. Just because some huge bullies have fancy papers and stuff doesn't mean anything. We'll get it back again, too. We always do."

"I can't feel it, and neither can you," Toris whispered, trying not to give in to the sound of Feliks' voice and his warm breath against his lips. "How can you call me Liet anymore? I'm not… not Lietuva…"

"Pft," Feliks spat out a breath of air like a snort. "You might not be 'Lietuva' but you're always gonna be Liet. So let's just enjoy our vacation, huh? Think about it, Liet, sure we can't feel the land anymore, and it's seriously wretched, but…" Feliks' smile dropped a little. "It doesn't hurt anymore, either."

That was why Toris' chest felt so empty. For the first time in his very existence, his heart didn't ache with the millions of dead or suffering people of his lands.

He held Feliks to him, and felt only a boy who was as scared as he was. Just a boy. Just another human to give comfort to. They were only human.

They'd be alright.

After the sun was gone completely at it was too cold even for body heat, they traipsed home slowly, checking the animals and then snuggling under the thick quilts of their shared bed.

Feliks tucked his head under Toris' chin, tangled his fists in Toris' nightshirt, and scooted their bodies as close as they would go.

"Don't need any Commonwealth," Feliks muttered thickly, startling Toris from the edge of exhausted sleep. "Don't need any Commonwealth t'tell me this is where I belong."

Toris felt more free than he had in a long, long time.