The young Hungarian nation rolled around as he tried to fall asleep, finding the heat and sand of the Holy Lands quite uncomfortable. Why God decided this was supposed to be sacred ground, he had no idea, but there had to be a reason so he would fight to the end. He may be young, but he was the nation of Hungary, a master archer and a master rider in one, he wouldn't be defeated by some stupid Turks.
Though as much as he told himself this, the thought of being outshined by the older and more experienced nations kept itching at him and he found it impossible to find rest. Even that stupid France laughed in his face when he came there, calling him just a child, it seemed like Prussia was the only other nation who respected him at all. Granted he could be an asshole, but at least he didn't accuse the young nation of being weak, he wasn't weak, and he would prove it.
He bolted up in his bed and threw the sheets away, walking over to his armor and setting it across his body, making sure it was nice and tight while staying as quiet as he possibly could. Slowly creeping outside he attempted not to wake anyone, or alert anyone he was up, he knew the night guard would alert anyone if he was seen leaving, so he would have to time his departure perfectly. He didn't even have to fight the stupid Turks while he was out there; he just had to get out on nyíl and start riding, anywhere to get his mind off this.
As he stepped out of the tent he looked up to Nyíl and smiled softly, he was always up for a bit of mischief just like the young nation who rode him. He reached up, slowly tugging on the reigns and the horse immediately knew to stay quiet, letting out only a snort as a confirmation he could get on. Hungary then hopped up, adjusting the straps and patting Nyíl on the side, and softly running his hands through the other's mane.
Nyíl was an immortal horse, just like Hungary was an immortal nation, and luckily for the younger nation, he grew along with him, which made sure he didn't look silly riding a giant horse. He was definitely getting taller compared to what he used to be, but he still hadn't grown his man parts yet. Oh, how he wished he had them so bad, then he could feel like a real man! He would have to start working out soon though, he knew he liked his sweets, but he never thought it would be enough to fatten it up like it did, he wondered why it was just his chest though.
Though for now that wasn't the largest thought on his mind, the largest thought on his mind was quietly stepping Nyíl through the series of tents and avoiding the guards that patrolled around. If he was caught they would send him back to his boss and he would be chewed out for sneaking out, even though he was practically a man already. So still sneaking through the tents, he held his breath as he found that he had almost trampled a guard facing the same way he was, but only a backstep from hitting Nyíl's chest.
Hungary held his breath as he waited for the guard to move-either to blow his plan to shreds, or to give him a clear shot out of the camp. After ten minutes of waiting and watching, his heart practically beating out of his chest the guard picked up his lance, shuffling toward the right and his next post. Hungary took his chance, holding onto nyíl's long neck as they slowly walked forward across the large gap of tents meant for horses and formations inside the camp. Slowly he saw the very edge growing closer, the fires dimming behind him and giving him more cover, and as soon as they broke the line, he kicked his heels. "Szalad!"
With resounding speed, Nyíl shot forward like the arrow he was named after, kicking up a giant cloud of dust behind him, but that didn't matter, they would never catch him. Hungary smirked as he felt the wind through his hair, the cool night air on his skin, and the Moonlight simply bathing him in silver. He saw what would be nothing to most people, but for miles and miles, he saw a beautiful desert that he could ride through forever without anything to stop him.
He sped through the desert, having no idea where he was going, or which direction went back to camp, but it didn't matter right now, what mattered is he was free. He loved the freedom of riding, the freedom of having nothing to restrain him, no boss, no camp, and no woman nagging him he shouldn't ride horses and shouldn't shoot bows. He could live alone his whole life if he could only do this, it wasn't at all like the plains of his Hungarian home, it was completely different, but still incredible.
After hours he could see the moon coming close to dipping across the horizon and pulled Nyíl's reigns to a stop, turning him on a dime back to where he came from. Though as he turned around he blinked, scanning what he could see and squinting his eyes, with no luck in any visibility of the camp. "Oh… crap…" no matter where he looked he couldn't see anything, and his tracks were already being swept away by the winds of the desert. He only had once choice, and that was to start riding and just pray.
He rode faster and faster, desperate to get back before the morning sun made it impossible to survive, but the faster he went, the more he felt like he was lost. He started panicking, making quick turns left and right, so desperate to get back to camp he didn't even realize he was only going around in circles. As soon as he felt the heat on him he was in absolute panic mode, he would suffer France's taunts and the fear of England's curses for the same ten years of Troy if someone could help him out here.
As he looked down at Nyíl he saw the poor horse panting for breath, having been ridden all night with no breaks Hungary suddenly felt bad. He hadn't been trying to overwork the poor guy at all. He slid down from the saddle and stopped him in his tracks, softly running his fingers through his mane. "I'm sorry Nyíl, this is my fault…." He leaned forward, pressing his face to the horse's skin and looking the same way he did. He couldn't believe this could be the end, but as he kept looking, he realized it might not be.
On the horizon he could see a lone rider coming toward him, obviously noticing him sitting in the middle of the desert sands, and raising his hands up in greeting. He pulled Nyíl's face into a hug as he smiled "We're saved, someone's coming to help us!" and a she continued to look, the savior was strange. The longer he looked the stranger the man looked, and then his eyes widened, realizing who it was "It's the damn Turk!" Hungary reached to his back for his bow, feeling nothing back there and his eyes widened, he'd forgotten his bow! How could he be so stupid?!
There was no time to flee as he came upon the two, bringing his long sword up in the air and grinning behind that stupid white mask of his. He laughed like one of the horsemen of the apocalypse as he shouted out to the young Hungary "Merhaba, you little shit!" and he brought his sword down across the area just under the other's chest, and forming a dark red spot on his chest. Hungary groaned in pain and fall back into the sand as the Turk rode past, turning around and facing Hungary again.
As Hungary looked up he could see only Nyíl, stepping forward to protect his master, and Hungary smiled, muttering to himself softly. "Thanks…" he held on his last moments, why he didn't just allow himself to blackout from blood loss he had no idea, but if he had, he wouldn't have seen what happened next, and that could have been his greatest regret.
From the edge of his vision he watched as another rider slammed into Turk, in gleaming steel armor, a strange cross emblazoned on his chest. He rode a strong war horse, not too heavily built like most, but not light like Hungary's, it was meant for fast combat with heavy armor. In his left hand he held a lance which he pointed toward the Turk, and as his lips moved Hungary heard nothing, the darkness of blood loss slowly creeping into his vision as he stared at this young man, not much older than him, who had saved his life.
In the time between his blackened vision and complete unconsciousness, one questioned reigned in his mind, who could this savior be? He wanted to think it was Prussia, but he didn't think he had a horse like that, he would try to find some time to bring it up, but for now, he could only fall into his deep sleep.
Hungary was now an adult, hundreds of years old and she had come to the realization a long time ago she was not a young boy, but a woman. She had settled down and gotten a husband, who had made her do all the things she said she would never do for a girl. She had to stop riding her horse to make time for chores, and she traded in her bow for a frying pan-which she used with an equal amount of lethality-to make him happy.
She had broken up with him a long time ago, and when she did she had taken the opportunity to get closer to her old friend Prussia. She had asked him about the knight who saved her, only receiving a laugh in her face that she needed to be saved back during the Crusades. They hadn't spoken for a week or so afterwards, but all she could have thought about what who that knight had been, and the question had percolated in her subconscious for all these years now, and it had resurfaced once more to take over her thoughts.
Though now she was on another errand, heading off to the world meeting for Austria, even though they were divorced, she still had to rely on him for everything, so she couldn't say no. Oh, how she wanted to be on her own, she sometimes dreamt of that knight coming back and saving her from this new death sentence, but life wasn't a fairy tale, and she wasn't going to get her happy ending. She just had to deal with the fact Austria was a lazy bastard who would never do his own work, and just sit on his fat ass all day playing piano.
With a few deep breaths she calmed and collected herself, looking at the series of letters Austria had wanted her to deliver. She would just go down the list, and following the first name led her to Switzerland's door, she knew him well enough, but the two rarely spoke alone. It was normally a passing greeting, or him speaking to her before she took Lili for the day, but that couldn't really be considered quality time.
As she stepped into the room Switzerland used as a study her heart pounded through her chest, in front of her eyes was the same emblazon she had seen, all those years ago. It was right there, on the armor he wore right now. She could barely stand as he legs turned to jelly and she had to grab onto the door for support, almost collapsing to the ground in shock.
Switzerland was by her side in seconds, wrapping his arms under hers and keeping her from falling to the ground, not bothering to remove the armor he was wearing for unknown reasons. "Woah! Hungary, what are you doing? You act as though you've seen a ghost!" he looked down at her with concern, pulling her over to a small couch and sitting her down, where she simply stared at him in awe.
"You're…. you're the man from the desert…. The one who saved me from Turkey…. All those years ago…." Hungary couldn't believe it, it had been Switzerland that entire time, he was the one who saved her. He had never mentioned it to her in all the years he'd known her, why wouldn't he ask her?
Switzerland looked at her with shock, glancing down at his own emblazon on his chest. He had put the armor on, on a whim, wanting to feel the old suit after all these years, but he never would have thought this would happen. The thought of himself riding through the desert in the early morning, and coming across the scene of the young man-or woman as he later found out-near-death was fresh in his mind from earlier today in fact. "It's nothing really, I was just doing what's right…" and with that he glanced away, not looking her in the eye.
Hungary couldn't believe what she was hearing, this man who had saved not only her life, but that of Lili as well later in his life, saying that saving her life was nothing? She looked up at him and shook her hand, standing up and taking him by the shoulders, practically shouting at him "How could you say that?! You saved my life, I've been trying to find out who did it for all these years, but you never told me, why?!" Her eyes were desperate and needy, practically begging for an answer to the question.
Switzerland sighed, he could see the desperation in her eyes, and how much she wanted this out of him, and he wouldn't hold this from her anymore. "I didn't want you to think special of me, I was still under control of France at the time and I knew how much you hated him, I didn't want you or France realizing what had happened, so I stayed quiet, and when I left his control, I decided not to brag about what I'd done and sound selfish…"
Hungary looked up at him, and moved from holding his shoulders commandingly, to pulling him into a tight hug, not realizing she was actually kinda crushing him. "Switzerland, you should have told me what happened long ago, I've been wanting to know who saved me so badly all these years and a thousand years later, I finally know…. Thank you Switzerland, for saving me, I don't have anything I can do for you to repay you, except this…" as she looked up at him, she stared into those emerald green eyes, closing her own forest green and pressing her lips to his.
She had only kissed Prussia once before, and Austria on the rare occasion he could tear his eyes from the piano, but nothing ever as long or deep as this. Heat spread from her lips to the rest of her body, warming her up in the already scorching summer heat, but not unbearably, a warm, comforting heat. She softly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her, and tilting her head, simply to deepen the kiss. It was all she could do for him, but something told her it wouldn't be the only thing she would do, and she would make sure of it.
Switzerland pulled away first after the minute-long kiss, opening his eyes open once more as he looked down to her, finding that they were glazed over just a bit and blinking once or twice, to bring them back into focus. Though as he looked down at her, he saw those same forest green eyes and the thought sparked in his mind, what he had meant to do when she came in. "By the way," he whispered to her. "Happy birthday." As he pulled away he reached back onto the desk, pulling up a beautifully made recurve bow, with her human name engraved onto the wood.
As Hungary looked at the bow and then back to Basch, her eyes watered slightly, Austria had completely forgotten, and nobody else had even greeted her in the hallways about it, but he remembered. Instead of taking the bow, she dashed forward and hugging him tight, pressing her head to his armored chest and closing her eyes, whispering to him. "You remembered…."