Hungary smiled, blissfully lost to the soothing melody Austria played on his grand piano. His skillful fingers glide smoothly over the key finding the perfect tune. Her eyes carried a rare kind of fondness as they scrutinized his sophisticated form. All Hungary needed to be happy was this man, nothing beyond this private concert mattered.
The music paused before continuing a somber tone. Suspecting her husband may be upset, Hungary gently reached out to him, "Austria, are you feeling alright?"
"I'm sorry," Austria's voice broke slightly.
Hungary was caught off guard, why would he be sorry? "Roderich-"
abruptly, Austria rose to his feet and grabbed onto her shoulders, forcing her surprised green eyes to meet his. Somehow the depressing tune continued without the artist. His violet eyes held sorrow she had never before seen. "I'm sorry," The nation repeated. "I'm sorry I failed you."
Instead of questioning his apologies, Hungary found herself whispering, "It's okay."
"No!" Hungary flinched at his uncharacteristic snap. "I shouldn't have let him take you! He took you and I didn't do anything! I'm so sorry... it's all my fault."
What he spoke of seemed like a long-forgotten memory that escaped her grasp. Before she can question him another pair of hands turned her to a pair of crimson eyes that contained fear she thought she would never see in them. "Elizaveta!" Prussia cried desperately. "We have to get out of here!" The piano in the background was replaced by the clinging of swords clashing together, she pushed back memories of the two fighting together as children.
"Get out of where?" She was confused, where was this all going?
"I just want to see my brother again," Prussia whispered brokenly. "I want to see my people again." As he brokenly clutched her shoulders, she realized they were both dressed in their military uniforms stained with blotches of red.
"Gilbert, where are we?" She raised her hand to gently touch his face.
A small stream of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. "Hell... "
Hungary was roughly turned around again. Violet eyes greeted her, these were not the same as Austria's, these held a terrifying, childish innocence. "Привет Elizaveta," Russia said her human name as if they were childhood friends.
The nostalgic clashing of swords ceased, replaced by choir of voice and instruments singing in a language that was deathly familiar to her, praising in song to the country that stood before her. At that moment, Hungary noticed she was no longer in the home she once shared with Austria, now she was in a house that held her prisoner. The walls were plain except for the portraits of stern leaders harshly judging those who stray from their watchful gaze.
"You belong to me now, да?" Although it was a question, Hungary could tell Russia doesn't expect any kind of answer other than "yes."
Hungary hated this man and hated herself for fearing this man, she jerked away from him in an attempt to escape his hold, but his grip only tightened. "Is something wrong, Elizaveta?" The fake concern in his voice sickened her to the core.
"Get your hands off me," Hungary growled through clenched teeth.
Russia's smiled disappeared along with the childish gleam in his eyes, "I don't understand why you dislike me so." Russia sighed despairingly, like a parent forced to deal with a troublesome child. Hungary opened her mouth for the obvious answer, but the only sounds that passed through her lips were strangled gasps for air. She clawed desperately at the hand around her throat to no avail, Russia remained impassive to her struggle.
"I suppose I must stomp out any dislike if it encourages such insolence. Fear is better, да?"
The cries of her people screamed in her ears as she gasped for breath. Why couldn't she fight back? Is this what happens when country loses to another? Spots began appearing in her vision, is this how it ends?
her green eyes snapped opened, she gulped precious air and looked around at her surroundings. It was a nightmare, Hungary was in her room, but not in Austria's home. A knock came at the door, "W-weekly r-role-call in o-one hour, M-ms. Hungary."
"Thank you, Latvia," Hungary replied the trembling nation, the faint sound of footsteps continued to go down the hall. She pulled her knees to her chest, an image of the last time she saw Austria flashed through her mind, he couldn't even look her in the eye after they found out Russia had no intention of letting her or other Eastern European nations go. She recalled how she promised to see him again once this was all over, that was 20 years ago.
Elizaveta wished she could escape from this nightmare just by opening her eyes.
An: This is just a drabble that's been on my mind for a while. When Hungary heard the choir, that was the Red Army Choir, I've listened to many of the songs they sang. Russians knew how to make beautiful music. I might continue this. Please review! ^J^
Sorry for the Cyrillic letters, but I couldn't let go of the chance to type the letters myself :P
привет (privyet) = hello
да (da) = yes
Hetalia belongs to Himaruya!