Author's note: Tumblr request (toobusysinking): "uh, uh! can I request some mangaryxfem!austria? and Revolutionary France?" The idea of Mangary (Dániel) and fem!Austria (Anneliese) has crossed my mind several times so here you go, with some background Revolutionary!fem!France (Marianne). I'll let this one speak for itself.
Men and Women
Anneliese folds the letter back up neatly, placing it down in front of her plate. She's eaten little of her food today; she eats little of it most days. Yet she's content when her companion picks up the letter, most of his plate clear.
Dániel was, in all things, beautiful to her. His hair like honey the Austrian had pulled back this morning, tying a pretty green ribbon around it that matched the Hungarian's eyes. Dániel hated when Anneliese did things like that but never stopped her. She rather fancies herself that secretly he enjoys it.
"Hmm," is the first thing the man says after reading the letter, placing it down to take more food. A slender hand on his stops him, Anneliese handing her plate over; she let the servants eat what dinner is left over and always takes great joy in watching her lover finish her food. "Thank you."
"You are welcome," Anneliese sighs. Silence falls over them again as amethyst eyes look out the window, watching the sun set. A hand takes her, fingers lacing together, as Dániel rereads the letter.
"Alright," the man says– his voice is deep and rich and like a harmonized chord played on a well-tuned piano. D major, Anneliese thinks. "What do you make of all this?" While Austria was the one with power, Dániel was the one the officials listened to. Whether because he felt some sense of obligation to let his mistress decide or because he much preferred her to make the decisions, Dániel has always asked Anneliese's opinion of all matters; the decisions he would then give officials rarely deviated from what she had said.
"I think Marianne has been asking for a revolution since the day she was baptized," Anneliese pronounces. "She is rarely more than a nuisance to me and I have little sympathy for her in that regard."
"Even though," the Hungarian teases and his voice trails off at that; the woman knows immediately what he's referring to, nights of passion she's spent with the French nation along with nights the three passed together.
"With her it is only ever sex," Anneliese gets in with a voice of finality. Dániel raises an eyebrow. "You know with you it is different."
"I would hope so," he jokes, smiling slightly. "But what of the royal family?"
Anneliese sighs, looking once more out the window to wear the sun was nearly set; she would have to call for more candles to be lit in the room soon. "They are as they are, and no matter what I feel I cannot change that."
Rough lips kiss her hand before moving up her wrist and lower arm. "I am sorry this causes you pain," Dániel sighs. "Let me take the pain from you?" The Austrian reaches out her free hand to stroke the man's face, enjoying the little stubble on his chin and light facial hair around his mouth.
"Only if you are gentle with me."
"Aren't I always?" and Dániel leans across the table to steal a heated kiss.
The moonlight is bright tonight, the wind bending the branches of the trees. In the distance a horse whines and Dániel tuts at that, Anneliese's head resting on his bare chest.
"I don't like the men who tend the horses. They're idiots in my opinion."
"You chose them," Anneliese points out, her fingers tracing the lines of Dániel's abs.
"I thought perhaps there would be somewhere in Austria men up for the job; apparently I was wrong."
"You should send for men from Hungary then, in the morning, if that would be more satisfactory to you."
"Hmm." With Dániel there were a lot of hmms, whether affirmative or simply informative; the woman loves those hmms more than she'd ever admit.
"Dániel?" At the sound of his name a hand starts to trace Anneliese's back, following the curve of her spine.
"Hmm?"
"Do you love me Dániel for me, or do you love me because Hungary is under the control of Austria?"
The horse whines again before her lover sighs and whispers, "I love you for you, of course."
"Good," and Anneliese kisses his chest, snuggling up closer.
He looks incredible on his steed, taking the horse through its paces as Anneliese rests under a tree. Slender fingers spread her skirt, the woman sighing and spinning her simple silver band with a solitary ruby in it. Dániel had said that diamonds were so common and gold so overdone, but since red and white were the woman's favorites….
"How's he look?" Dániel shouts.
"Wonderful, dear," Anneliese replies as the Hungarian trots close before dismounting. He pats the horse, whispering in hushed Hungarian to it, before letting it run free and coming to lay beside his mistress. "And the horse did fine as well."
"Ha ha," Dániel laughs before pulling the Austrian unceremoniously down, kissing her with a hand running through her hair to cradle the back of her head. "You're a devilish broad you know."
"Oh? I had not heard." Once her counterpart has finished settling his head on her lap, Anneliese pulls the ribbon from his hair to play with it. "How long will you be gone this time?"
The Hungarian shrugs. "A week or so, most likely. You can come with me."
"Why? If I go to Vienna I must speak with others and I much prefer it here with the horses and you and no social obligations."
"Do you?" Dániel sits, eyeing Anneliese as if he didn't believe her. "Do you really? Is this the life you want, my beautiful?" The Austrian reaches out to stroke his cheek, green eyes fixed on her face. "France is in the midst of revolution, to our east and west new countries are forming and boundaries moving. The empire will soon be changing as well, you and I both know it. Is this the best life I can give you, in the Hungarian countryside, a quaint house with horses and a man not worthy of you?"
"Dániel," Anneliese breathes, not having expected him to become sentimental. Not that she ever did, the ease with which he paid her compliments or words of beauty rolled from his tongue never seizing to astound. "Dániel, of course this is what I want. Here, with you, in a beautiful house with beautiful land I feel free. I feel–" she stutters for a word before settling on "–mortal. And it is nice."
The man nods before smiling smugly. "It is, isn't it? I'm sorry love, I just worry that I'm boring you."
"Never, Dániel, never."
Fringe falls over her face, the pillow beneath her head being abused, as Anneliese moans and runs her hands up and down Daniel's back. Above her his hair falls around his face, the Hungarian whispering how beautiful Anneliese is and how much he loves her as he thrusts in, over and over, until his mistress comes around him. For centuries they've made love and for centuries more (Anneliese prays) they would continue, and yet she doesn't think she could ever tire of Dániel and his sweet words for her.
When he collapses on her chest, their bodies heaving as she wraps her arms around his neck, the Austrian says another silent prayer for them: that peace would return to Europe, that she really did wish Marianne well, that the Holy Roman Empire not give up quite yet, and that Dániel stay with her.
"Forever," Anneliese breathes and it makes her lover laugh, the man shifting to kiss her lips.
"Forever and ever," he sighs. "And ever, and ever, and ever."
"And ever?"
"And ever, and ever."
There's yelling from the downstairs room as Anneliese waits on the balcony. After it ends Dániel comes up in a huff, slamming the door. "I fucking hate everyone," he fumes before sitting at her feet, wrapping his arms around her legs to hold close. The man's face disappears into the folds of her skirt as he tries to regain his calm, Anneliese reaching down to pat his head. "Sorry," he finally breathes when he emerges from the folds of fabric, looking up at her. "Shouldn't have used that language around you."
"Oh please Dániel: I may be a lady but I was not born yesterday, I do know such words."
"Still," he sighs, tugging on her hand for the Austrian to sit on his lap. Hungarian arms wrap around the lithe body, holding her to him. "You are a princess and I should treat you as such."
"Princesses are in principalities," Anneliese corrects for what feels like the umpteenth time, "and kingdoms. Austria is an archduchy."
Dániel smiles that sloppy smile of his that's natural and genuine and beautiful and makes Anneliese want to reach out and touch his lips, the man pushing hair behind her ear. "Well Hungary is a kingdom and you're my princess."
Her face flushes. "Am I?"
"After all," and the man leans in close, his green going wide as Anneliese mimics him, "Princess Anneliese of Hungary has a nice ring to it, don't cha think?"
"Hmm," the Austrian agrees and her lover laughs, pulling her into a tight embrace. When they pull apart Anneliese asks, "Will you be informing me of what happened with my officials that you found yourself in a yelling match?"
"Does it matter, really, in the end? They're right, I'm wrong, and when they get themselves killed I'll have to pretend I ever cared for them at their funerals."
Anneliese is in her robe at the foot of the bed, trying to pick between two dresses that her lady's maids were holding up when Dániel enters. "Sorry love–" he's never liked interrupting her when she was dressing, though he has no problem helping her to undress. The women bow out of the room, Anneliese deciding the purple dress would be better for today anyway as she fingers the fabric.
"What is it Dániel? I thought you were already gone to Vienna."
"Yeah, well," and the bed dips as the man sits beside her. Standing Dániel wasn't necessarily the tallest of men but at Anneliese's height he was a good deal taller than her; sitting they came up more equal. In his hands he's fidgeting with a small box, the Austrian reaching out to still his fingers. "Had something for you, before I left."
"You should not have troubled yourself," the woman soothes as Dániel opens the box, smiling at him before looking down to take in the simple gold band with a diamond surrounded by emeralds and garnets. "Oh– oh my." Necklaces were normal from the Hungarian, and bracelets, but rings were something else: more personal, deeply sentimental and straight from the Hungarian man's heart.
"I love you, Anneliese," Dániel whispers, taking the ring from its box and sliding it onto her left hand since her right ring finger already bore his other ring. "And I don't ever want to leave you. I know– I know we can't get married, but I still wanted you to know that… that…." He sighs longingly when he looks at her, stroking the Austrian's cheek. "That you are my wife and I would do anything for you, Anneliese Edelstein."
"I know Dániel," and she grabs his hand to still the shaking in her own. "I know, my love."
"Good." He kisses her, sliding her across the sheets towards his body, and Dániel still has rough lips and Anneliese is still so petite in his arms, but none of it matters. None of it ever has.