Moscow, 1985

The girl didn't belong there. Hungary could tell. For one thing, the girl was human; there were never any humans in Russia's House. He had enough Nations working for him these days that he didn't need human servants.

For another, every time Hungary saw her, she was in the same room, and she never seemed to leave it. This by itself didn't worry Hungary; Poland never left his room either. What worried Hungary was the third thing: the room she never left was Prussia's bedroom.

This made sense to Hungary when Latvia confided to her that Prussia had a new girlfriend. Besides Russia's sisters, one of whom he protected fiercely, and the other of whom only had eyes for Russia himself, Hungary was the only female Soviet Republic. Prussia's new girlfriend could be no one but this girl.

Prussia was not kind to women; Hungary had learned this the hard way barely a decade ago. He just didn't care enough about anyone besides himself to treat them well. Hungary resolved to speak to the girl as soon as she had the chance.

That chance did not come for several days. Every time she passed Prussia's room, the door was closed, or he was there, or both. Finally, though, the door was ajar and the room quiet. Hungary tiptoed inside.

The girl was there, making the bed. When she noticed Hungary, her eyes widened and she backed up against the wardrobe. She was East German, barely eighteen years old, very thin and rather plain (Prussia liked plain girls; they made him seem more handsome), and terrified.
"It's all right," Hungary said, in the same tone she'd used long ago with a homesick Italy. "I'm not going to hurt you." The girl shook her head.

"Listen," said Hungary. "I know what…Gilbert?" The girl nodded. "I know what Gilbert's doing to you." Hungary held out a hand. "I can stop him. I can keep him from hurting you. Come with me and you'll be safe." The girl stopped trembling, came closer—

—and then a shout echoed from the hallway. "Dana! Dana, where are you?" The girl hid under the bed, and Hungary turned around as Prussia entered the room. "Hello, Liz," he sneered. "Come to apologize?"

Hungary ignored his taunt. "A human, Gilbert? Really? That's low. Doing to her what you did to me—"

Prussia brushed her aside, striding over to the bed. "The awesome me can do whatever he wants," he crowed.

"You're disgusting, Gilbert, and I'm putting an end to this."

"How? She's my citizen. And you don't even have a—" Prussia stopped suddenly, cut off by a voice Hungary had never heard before.

"Nein, Herr Gilbert," said Dana, coming out of hiding and taking Hungary's hand. "I will go with Miss Liz."

"Please call me Elizaveta," Hungary said as she gave the girl a mug of coffee. Dana nodded, then burst into tears.

Hungary sat down next to her and gave her a hug. "It'll be all right," she assured the girl. "I'm here, I'll protect you, don't worry." Dana grew calm eventually, and took a sip of her coffee.

"Are you sure he won't come for me?" she asked shakily.

"Of course. Gilbert may not look like it, but he's scared of me. Especially in a kitchen." Dana looked up, puzzled. Hungary took a frying pan out of a cabinet. "He sees me with this," she said, swinging it up onto her shoulder, "and runs the other way." Dana smiled weakly and drank her coffee.

"We've always been enemies, ever since we were children," Hungary explained, sitting across the table from Dana with her own cup of coffee. "He would swagger around pretending he was the king of the world. My response was usually to send him home with arrows in his ass." She laughed. Dana gaped.

It hit Hungary that she should be more careful what she told Dana, and she changed the subject. "Eventually, my father shipped me off to learn how to be a lady. After that, I ended up working for a guy named Roderich Edelstein for a few years…and then we got married." She grew wistful. "It started as a marriage of convenience—for him, that is—but we loved each other in the end. We had a son…a wonderful child…" She trailed off.

"What happened to them?" Dana asked.

Hungary drank her coffee, then continued. "They're in the West, they were…visiting his relatives when the Wall went up." She felt bad lying to the girl, but could she really say that she and Austria had been divorced for sixty years, and married for centuries before that? "I was trapped in Budapest, on the wrong side of the wall. Then Ivan, who owns this house, came around, looking for…" his new territories. "Anyway, I came here for work, and it turned out Gilbert was here too.

"He's a cousin of Roderich's, and we thought we were all each other had of the old days. I tried loving him, but it turned out that he was the same swaggering idiot that he always was. And I was the same tomboy. One day I finally had enough, hit him with a frying pan, and walked out."

Dana looked up. "So now you protect others from him," she said slowly. "He brought me here, he promised my parents he'd find me work, I have younger brothers, and there wasn't enough money…and he was so nice, when we got here. I didn't realize what he was really like until it was too late, and then I was too scared to do anything. Thank you for saving me from him." Hungary nodded.

Then Dana cautiously asked the one question that Hungary had been hoping she wouldn't. "Miss Elizaveta, I thought I heard you mention something to Herr Gilbert about humans. Are you not human?"

Dammit. Well, it wasn't like the girl was going home anytime soon, and she'd find out just from living here long enough. She chose her words carefully. "We're human in all the ways that matter. It's just that… Here, let's use a metaphor. Imagine this house is the Soviet Union." It was, in fact; but Dana didn't need to know that. "Then Ivan, who owns the house, is Russia, and the rest of us work for him. Gilbert's East Germany. We usually call him Prussia; but I just call him a pain in the ass." Dana almost smiled at that. "And I am the Republic of Hungary."

Budapest, 1989

Dana had become Hungary's right hand in Moscow. She'd learned the truth about the nations from Latvia, who didn't know any better than to tell her, and after that, Hungary kept her extra close. When Hungary left the Soviet house, Dana came with her, to act as her "secretary." This was more work than it sounded like: in addition to taking phone calls and answering letters, Dana found herself doing a share of the housework. She didn't mind, though; it was good work, and she could send money home.

Hungary also began to teach Dana a couple of the tricks Nations used to defend themselves. The most useful was an almost-magical way of hiding a weapon in plain sight. It came in especially handy one summer day, when Prussia came to visit and found Dana working in the garden.

"Hey, Dana," he called. She ignored him until he was right behind her.

"Hey, Dana, come back to Berlin with me. It's okay," he said as she stood up, "the awesome me has taken care of everything. We can go home!"

Dana actually thought about it for a moment. She turned around, looked at Prussia, and realized that she could look him in the eye. Then she grabbed the frying pan she had hidden behind her back, and hit him on the temple. He went down and stayed down.

Berlin, 1989

The wall was coming down. Hungary went to East Germany, to see it. Dana didn't come, and Hungary didn't blame her.

She pretended not to see Prussia, but slipped one hand into her back pocket as she passed him. He kept a safe distance, and neither spoke as they watched shouting humans tear down the wall with hammers and shovels.

It was more than a wall, this concrete barrier through the heart of Germany. It marked Russia's property line, and kept Soviet citizens in. And it was being torn down from both sides.

Hungary and Prussia walked through the wall when a gap was large enough, and found Germany himself standing on the other side. Prussia shook Germany's hand, then decided he was not too awesome to give his brother a hug.

There were other Nations there, watching the humans at work and congratulating each other, but Hungary's eye was caught by one who said nothing at all.

Austria held out his arms to her, and they surprised themselves by embracing, and then kissing, in the streetlight where anyone could see. He realized it first, and pulled away, clasping her forearms in a belated gentlemanly greeting. (Too late for America, who whistled.)

"Have you been well?" Austria asked.

"Better now," she said. "You?"

He smiled. She knew he'd missed her as much as she'd missed him.

Austria offered Hungary his arm; she took it, and they walked away towards Vienna.