Author's Note:

(These will be at the end after this). This fanfiction focuses mainly on two OCs-the Czech Republic/Czechia (Milena Svobodová) and the Slovak Republic/Slovakia (Emil Česnik). They were originally created by me and my friend (respectively) for an RP of ours, and they grew on us. There is heavy interaction with Austria, Hungary, Germany, Prussia, and in later chapters, Britain, France, Russia, Poland and the USA (kind of), and a bunch of nations sprinkled here and there (including other OCs which will be those of my friends).

This will start during a time of the Austria-Hungary empire and end at present day, following the history of the Czechs and Slovaks in this time period. While I cannot be 100% historically accurate, I have tried my best to at least be 99% accurate, though I have taken some artistic license. As someone who is very interested in the history of these nations, I hope I can do them justice.

This is a revised and rewritten version of the original fanfiction I started in hopes of making it more educational as well as more interesting.

Who burns for truth in holy sacrifice,

Who gives his life for the rights of others,

Who cries when he sees the misery of the poor,

Him my song will chime in glory

-Slovak Hymn

A disgruntled expression seemed permanently embedded on the Slovak's face as he walked towards the manor. The gravel beneath his shoes crunched and shifted, making a noise disgustingly similar to a certain 'master' of his' chewing. The Hungarian had of course decided to stop by the kitchens (where he was cleaning at the time), to poke her large nose into the foods being cooked for her and her husband. Of course, all the while she seemed to rolls her r's atrociously and click her tongue as if she detested Roderich when speaking of him. He honestly wondered if she was unhappy being married to him, or just a colossal bitch. Most likely the latter. For when she stepped over to his station, where some other nation had foolishly spilled something beforehand, she decided to degrade him right there before the cooks, a piece of bread still in her mouth. No matter what others said she was like ("a true lady of class!", "oh she's wonderful company!"), all he could define her as in his lifetime was 'pig'. Eventually, he had barked back at her, unable to contain himself and had to be 'escorted' out of the kitchen onto the courtyard. "Go scrub the manor hall, szlovák."

Ugh.In truth he had strayed away from actually doing as she said, had even gone down to the creek none too far from the place, to wash his face. He hated being here. With every fiber of his being, he hated it. He thought he might as well sew his mouth into a permanent frown for good, because he could never find a good enough reason to smile as some of the others did around here. He had become so numb over the years that at times he wondered if he held onto his pain just to know he was alive. As the Slovak walked into the manor, one of the guards passed him by and halted him in his tracks.

"Chesnik, it is your turn to light the dining hall. Get to it." Emil waited for the footsteps to fade away, glaring at the wall in front of him. He was no servant or slave, yet the majority of his life he had been treated as one; as less, as not enough, as a barbarian. Someone was always scrubbing the floors, and lighting the dining hall sounded like a much more favourable "chore".

He slipped down the corridor, pausing at an archway where he could see the chapel. Emil subconsciously reached to the small silver cross that was draped around his neck. Lord, give me strength. Sighing, Emil made his way to the dining hall to light all of the lanterns and candles till the room glowed in yellows and oranges.

It took everything in him to not just set fire to the place.

The luxurious seats, the refined décor and the mere "elegance" of the room sickened him. It was a place for royalty, for kings and queens to laugh and flirt over their meals. While the pawns have to do their dirty work. Emil sneered and spit at the ground before exiting the hall, feeling no desire to be in there longer than necessary. His home, his people, his language, his culture—it meant nothing here. It meant so little that day by day it seemed it was disappearing—his people forced to take on the Hungarian culture to the point where people were scared to reveal their true nationality. It wasn't just him, either, but at the moment that was all he could care about.

After all, it was his life at stake.

Fragile. Breakable. Broken. Oh, how he hated the mere thought of those words! With a shake of his head, Emil let his feet lead him and soon found himself at the creek once more. This time, however, he heard a singing voice not too far off from where he stood. Deciding to investigate—and it sounds so familiar—the Slovak walked up the creek towards the source, making sure not to make too much noise as he pushed delicate branches out of his path.

His eyes landed on a feminine figure, and he held his breath as she straightened up, previously bent over the river, taking out a smooth stone. Her voice, like her appearance, was enchanting—but weak. Fragile. Breakable. Broken. Emil watched her for a while before approaching.

"Ahoj, Milena." His voice had a ring of pride to it—boldly spoken in what was considered practically a banished language in the Hungarian kingdom. The girl nearly jumped in surprise, immediately turning to face him. Her eyes, somewhere between seagreen and gray, softened as she recognized the newcomer. "Ahoj, Emil." She smiled weakly, her hands smoothing out the creases in her dress. The Czech was not in much better condition than he was-she faced the same fate, only under the Germanics instead of the Magyars.

The Slovak placed a finger under her chin, lifting it up as he leaned his head side to side, examining her thoroughly. Another hand brushed aside her hair, which fell in waves of dark brown and blonde to frame her face before tying off in a side-braid. "Not a terrible week, I see." His thumb smoothed over a bruise on her cheek. She nodded. "Same for you, it seems." She replied, her own eyes inspecting him.

"The song you were singing—" He started.

"It is forbidden, I know."

"They will only hurt you and your people more."

"Does not seem to be stopping you."

Emil smirked. Sassy as always. He chuckled quietly and released her face, taking in the full sight of her. "Anything new…?" The Czech's eyes narrowed at the question, scoffing as she sharply looked off to the side, her long braided hair now tossed over her shoulder.

"What else? Roderich is being a pain in the ass and Gilbert and that younger brat Ludwig are no better." She shook her head, leaning against a tree as her slender hands pulled out two long blades of grass, weaving them together. Her hands shook, and soon she threw the half-made wreath at the ground. "There's no point in trying to make it seem like anything is fine. This week seems to be a miracle, but the pains will continue and this…" Milena cut off, her fingers going to clutch the cloth of her dress above her heart. Milena put up a hand to stop Emil from reaching for her, and soon her fingers relaxed. She sneered out her next words: "I don't know how much longer I have. They go around and parade that we are free to have our languages and religions but they certainly do not practice it! I have German shoved into my mouth constantly and I feel like vomiting when I feel that terrible language on my tongue." A disgusted look on her face accompanied her words. Sure enough, the Czech identity was slowly being erased, and it was all she could do to hang on to all that formed her. Hidden from the Slovak's view, the skin under her dress had become dark, with ghostly patterns snaking all over her torso—the sign of a dying nation as they were slowly eaten up into disappearance.

"Don't talk like that." The Slovak scolded her, grasping her shoulders and making direct eye contact. "This isn't the end, and God help us we will be free from this enslavement." His fierce gaze caused her to keep her mouth shut. Emil's eyes soon softened, his voice doing the same as he looked towards their feet. "I know it is difficult…and I know the pain you are feeling." He let go of one of her shoulders to tug down on his shirt—just enough to show darkened skin and eerie patterns snaking across his chest. Milena slowly reached out, her fingers gently brushing his collarbone before fixing his shirt back in place.

"How many centuries have passed..."

"I've lost track."

"It's better that way, I guess." She bit her lip, and took a step back, a sudden fire in her eyes. "But you are right. The others are sick and tired too…the faster and fiercer our revolt, the better. They cannot keep control over us for long." Again, her eyes wandered to the darkening sky, the stars emerging from hiding spots behind the once blue field. Milena then looked around, making sure that not a soul was in sight, and whispered into Emil's ear: "Roderich's been real worried lately—mentioned something about Ivan, and what's really got him on the edge is internal politics." Emil's eyes narrowed as Milena paused to let the information sink in. "And they have been noticing our resistance as well, even if they try to pass it off. It seems it actually is getting to them." Her lips spread into a devilish smile that Emil now knew only too well.

"We will make sure that our pain will not go without notice."

A/N:

The first couple of paragraphs was actually written by a friend and is from a roleplay of ours, but it seemed like a good way for starting this off.

History Notes:

These will be in more detail later-but the Slovaks had been ruled by the Hungarians since around the 900s and the Czechs had been under Austrian rule since about the 1600s. The story is starting out in the mid-1800s, during the times of increased Germanization and Magyarization.