Blut und Vér
1683.
The amount of blood makes even his own stomach turn, Roderich facing away as the servants work on his shoulder. To his left Erzsébet sits on the floor beside the bed, holding his hands. Their eyes lock on each other and that helps take away some of the pain.
After several hours the doctor declares they have done everything they can and must now wait for time and God to do their parts. He and the servants all bow out of the room.
A hand strokes Roderich's cheek, Erzsébet leaning over to kiss his flushed forehead. "Allow me to make you comfortable, Your Highness," and she helps the Austrian to shift his body. Several pillows prop him up, the Hungarian kingdom moving to draw the curtains around his bed. Before she can draw the last one and excuse herself, he grabs her wrist.
"Thank you, Erzsébet."
She smiles, nods, then pulls the curtain.
1699.
His new Hungarian territory moves slowly to the bed, Roderich propped up and watching with hungry anticipation. She pauses beside the mattress, pulling the drawstring holding her expensive robe up and allowing it to fall to the floor. His breathing becomes shallow at that immediately.
In only her chemise Erzsébet crawls across the mattress to straddle his hips, her eyes not meeting his. But Roderich has found something better to gaze at, pulling the front of her garment open more to see her large and surely soft breasts. His cock twitches as he lets out a long sigh, one hand cupping her through the fabric.
That head falls back as Roderich comes forward, placing open-mouthed kisses all across her neck and shoulders. He pulls at the fabric as he moves, playing with Erzsébet's breasts as her hands rake through his hair. Slipping a hand up the bottom of her chemise, the Austrian cups a bare breast, flicking at its nipple, as his mouth finds the other to suck on and tease. Hips buck against him, the first real display of the strength of this woman.
With all he has the Austrian archduchy teases Erzsébet until she's complete putty in his hands, pulling her chemise over her head to better take in her incredible torso as dark curls of hair tumble over arms and shoulders. She's pale though not in the almost-unhealthy way Roderich is; hers is a paleness that's feminine, like her curves and gentle mewls. It drives him crazy, her thighs trembling on either side of his as he bites at the flesh of her shoulder, marking her.
Rolling them so that the Hungarian is laying on her back, Roderich sits back between her legs and pulls his chemise off. He allows Erzsébet a moment to take in his form which isn't nearly as impressive as hers (the Austrian himself would never deny how much he adore women's breasts) but does show the body of a soldier trained and ready for battle. The woman runs her hands up and down his chest before whispering, "You are so beautiful, Your Highness."
As a reward for her words Roderich presses his mouth against hers, kissing the Hungarian beauty over and over. Her legs part and slowly he plays with her center, trying to get her slick before he can push in. Erzsébet's fingernails dig into his back, driving Roderich absolutely crazy; he adores the pain as he pleasures her, marking her neck and shoulders and breasts over and over. In the morning she would be covered in red marks and there would be no way to hide them all: the world would know that she was his now.
Growing impatient Roderich inserts one finger, than two, enjoying how tight she is and how she yells out. He stretches her for only a short time before positioning his hard erection at her entrance, and in one swift thrust the Austrian buries himself deep within the kingdom.
She's so fucking tight, clawing at his back, and when he turns his head to kiss her he sees tears rolling silently down her cheek. Then it clicks.
"Erzsébet? Are you a virgin?"
Her green eyes shine bright in the dark room before her hands pull at his dark hair, bringing Roderich down to kiss. He gathers her up in his arms.
1742.
He doesn't think he's ever seen a woman look so beautiful in men's clothing before. She moves with a grace as if this was what she had always been meant to wear, as if this was any one of the magnificent dresses Roderich has lavished upon his lover. There's a confidence to Erzsébet as they prepare for battle, a fire in her eyes that he's never seen in someone else. A fire that is all his, normally reserved for the bedroom.
Moving quickly to her side the Austrian grabs her, kissing the Hungarian kingdom hard. Tongues dual for supremacy, Erzsébet no longer the meek little thing he had mistaken her for when she had first come to live with him. Now he knows she has never been meek.
Perhaps they could be a little late for the battle, hands pulling at the front of his trousers where blood is quickly rushing.
1804.
At first Roderich had detested the high waists of women's dresses but seeing his beautiful Erzsébet descend the stairs to meet him, the Austrian is glad he had changed his mind. His Hungarian counterpart looks stunning in the colors of his flag, the simple gold chains around her neck that he had given her the perfect touch. Taking her hand Roderich bows, kissing it lovingly.
"Is this all to your liking, Your Highness?" Erzsébet teases and Roderich laughs lightly, holding out an arm for her to take and leading the way. They greet their guests graciously but with each bow from the Hungarian, each smile or wave, the blood starts pumping in her companion's ears. The empire in him is in love with power, but the man in him is still so in love after centuries with this woman.
1867.
Roderich hates being nervous. He's almost never nervous. The Austrian empire is always in control, sure of everything. Now it feels like his life is truly out of his hands.
Though it's not like he would have argued with being married one more time.
Having stood beside the emperor when he married his bride, his emperor waits beside him, the empresses on the other side of the altar. Now the Austrian empire and Hungarian kingdom would truly be united in flesh and blood, his bride finally entering the cathedral.
1914.
This is more than he can take. This is more than any of them can. Even Erzsi, his anchor, his voice of reason when he needs someone to calm him down, is shocked and hurt. She had never cared for the archduke but she cares for him, because sometimes you had to put your priorities in order and their marriage was number one for her.
The world could stop spinning and Roderich doubts he would notice, no idea any more of which way is up and who he can trust beyond Erzsi who will never leave him.
Blood has been spilt and Roderich doesn't want to see how this ends.
1934.
Confined to his bed, the once-proud once-empire lays on his stomach, his breathing labored. He hisses at the sting of medication on his bloody back.
"I think, perhaps," Erzsi murmurs, "once up on a time the sound of you in pain like this would have distressed me."
"Does it no longer?" Roderich whispers.
Two lips kiss the back of his neck, perhaps the only part of his skin February has left unblemished.
1947.
Her face is thin, pale as if there's no blood behind her skin. Roderich imagines Erzsi hasn't seen the sun in months and from the way she moves, maybe she hasn't been able to do much either.
He wants so badly to reach out and take her hand. He wants so badly to wrap her up in his arms and kiss her and hold her and tell her it will all be ok because Roderich is back and he promised he would never let her go once she came under his control. She was his responsibility and the Austrian has done everything he could ever do to protect Erzsi from a world that is not worthy of her.
But when his fingers move just a little she flinches and not even the curtain of hair around her face cannot hide the bruises there.
"One day," he whispers in soft Hungarian that took centuries to learn, "we will be together again, and you will never want for anything Erzsébet."
Empty green eyes look up to meet his. "Now say it like you mean it," and her words are near acid, that smoothness and adoration in her voice gone.
1989.
Great strides carry him far away from mortal officials, down the hall, and through an open door where an incredibly thin woman stands at the window. Her hair hangs straight, longer than he remembers, and her clothes are patched and old, but the moment Erzsi turns all of that becomes as trivial as saying there are an infinite number of stars or there's an infinite number plus one. All that matters in the universe is his beloved Hungarian.
Roderich runs to her side, his arms catching her as she falls in exhaustion to hold her to his chest. Immediately the Austrian begins to cry; he doesn't care as his tears mix with hers. Erzsi's arms around his neck, Roderich begins a hurried inspection of her body, pushing her uniform around to see where the blood is still fresh and where the scars are old, new marks since the last time he'd seen her.
Then he just holds her in his arms. The feel of her head under his chin, her hair against his cheek, are things he's not forgotten. She is so much lighter in his grasp, her body smaller, and it feels so horribly wrong to see her meek. Roderich's mind immediately begins to fill with thoughts of all the food he would make her so Erzsi could gain back that weight, or how they would go out once more to the countryside where she could ride horses or run or work-out to rebuild her strength. When he'd had his new house built, Roderich had included a private gym and though the builders had given him a look that showed they knew he didn't work-out, the Austrian couldn't skip that room. Because Erzsi was always meant to come back to him, he is sure of it, and he had to be prepared.
The Hungarian sobs so hard she starts coughing, her companion shifting to prop her up and give her some water. Her grasp on the cup is too tight as she takes in the liquid; there had to have been abuse at the end, for those leaving. It's always been difficult for them to go from one system to another in their countries but to also have to deal with leaving the Eastern Bloc... Roderich shutters at the thought.
When she's emptied the glass he presses his forehead against hers, their eyes locked in a sad gaze they haven't been able to share in years. "Do not pity me," Erzsi whispers, "though I am broken and ugly."
A hand snakes through her hair, his other arm going around her waist. "No," Roderich breathes. "No, you are still as perfect and beautiful as the first time I saw you, and nothing Erzsi, nothing, will ever change that."
2007.
They go hiking easily across the border, each nation feeling the tug lessened from what it used to be.
Roderich isn't exactly sure how in shape he was to begin with; he's always been lean and the only one who perhaps has known his body enough over the years is Erzsi. When she'd returned to his world, questions of, "Do you want to come swimming with me Liebling?" and, "How about we do some of the cardio machines aranyom?" had received quiet responses of, "Sure drágaságom," and, "If it will make you happy meine Königin."
He may never be the fittest or strongest Germanic nation, but keeping up with his lover isn't so hard anymore either.
Just in front of the Austrian nation in loose shorts and one of his old t-shirts Erzsi takes in the view below them, smiling serenely. "How about we stop and have lunch there?" she asks before turning her head and being surprised at two arms wrapping around her from behind. No one around to see them Roderich presses into her, rolling his hips just a little to get a soft moan from the Hungarian as a hand slides across her stomach under the shirt.
"Sounds perfect," he purrs into her ear and already Erzsi's face is flush from the sun and with blood rushing through her veins.