Austria rode on a pure white horse. Her clothing was made of fine but sturdy materials. Embroidery edged the cuffs of her sleeves and the hem of her skirt. The embroidery also happened to hide the many repair jobs she had made to her clothing. The sword at her side looked more ornamental then practical. Around her marched her personal body guard. Every step they took kicked up more mud, discoloring the lower half of the beautiful steed.
They came to a halt in front of a French controlled fort. Austria looked up and could see the tricolor convulsing in the air as the wind stroked it. She was getting sick of seeing this flag so often lately. It would not be so bad if it were not for the tiny fact that even after some victories, France would turn things around and Austria would find herself signing one treaty or another with her. Why France had to have such an annoying boss, she did not know. According to England, he was extremely short. Maybe all of these wars and battles was compensating for height.
The gates opened with a noise not unlike a giant's arthritis. Without a word she had her horse walk forward again. The men immediately started walking forward. They kept perfect formation around her. Waiting for them inside were French soldiers. In the center of their formation was a certain woman.
France was dressed in red. Austria had expected to see her in blue or maybe purple. Of course France did not look bad in red. In fact, she was very striking and Austria knew some of the soldiers must be having trouble paying attention with her around. Of course it was also the height of fashion and not something old that had been cleverly repaired in a way that made it looked fancier.
"So wonderful to see you once again, Austria," France said like she had a secret that she was not sharing.
"I am not here to exchange pleasantries."
"Of course, of course."
"I want to see her first."
"You do not trust me, mon amour?"
"I told you not to call me that and no, I don't trust you."
"Very well, mon mimi," France let the corners of her mouth turn up as she spoke. She had a whole list of endearments she could use for the brunette.
Austria dismounted from her horse. She was annoyed at France switching to another nickname. One of her men stepped forward and took hold of the reins. She gave him a curt nod before she turned to France.
"This way, mon bichette." France turned on one fashionably clad foot and began to walk inside the stone building.
Austria followed her. A shiver raced up and down her spine. It was cold outside but even colder inside. Her hair was toyed with by a draft. Ahead, France turned a corner. Austria hurried her steps to close the distance between them.
When she turned the corner she was grabbed and pushed against the wall. French lips captured her own in a private little war. Austria brought her hands up. She thought she was going to push the French woman away. Instead, she found her hands latched onto the front of the expensive clothing and just hanging their uselessly. Austria could taste red wine on France's breath. The seams in the stone wall dug uncomfortably into her back.
For one moment Austria returned the kiss. It always floored her how both France and Hungary were both women, yet kissing each could not be more different. Hungary was hard on the outside and soft on the inside. France was soft on the outside and hard on the inside. The moment was over and Austria finally pushed France away.
"Stop that."
"So coy, ma belle."
"I did not come here for you. I came here for her."
"Oh how my heart weeps at that you would not come to see me. I must try to recover from this blow." France's eyes revealed the truth at the overdramatic statement. Austria could have easily sent someone else to get the prisoner and they both knew it.
France began walking again. This time she walked slower then before. After passing through two hallways, down a flight of steps and through one last hallway they arrived at three cells. Men filled two of them. The last one had a single blonde girl with long braids. A man stood guard.
"Switzerland," her greeting to the blonde man was cool and icy.
"Austria," his greeting was equally cold.
"Frau Austria," Liechtenstein leapt to her feet and rushed to the bars, "you came to get me."
"Of course I came, Liechtenstein." When they were in private she would have to remind Liechtenstein to call her Fräulein, not Frau. "Did either of them hurt you?"
"Nein, Switzerland was really nice."
Austria turned her head to look at France. "What are your demands for her release?"
France laughed like a silver bell as she spoke, "you have already paid for her release in full."
Austria scowled at France, yet there was a hint of red on her cheek. "I do not know what you are talking about. Liechtenstein, let's go." She would deny what had happened, but it went against her nature to deny the chance to not spend money that she did not have to.
Switzerland unlocked the cell and let the girl out. She looked like she was in perfect health. Austria had been half worried that France would have had her way with the petite girl. Taking the girl's hand, she began to walk back the way she had come.
"One last thing, Austria."
Austria stopped and looked behind her, in the direction of France. The other woman's expression had changed. No longer was it flirty and holding a seductive promise. There was a sort of warmth in it. The first thing it made her think of was the way that Prussia sometimes looked at Hungary. The affection was marred by a resigned melancholy.
"I look forward to the next time we meet on the battlefield."
"So do I," there was a small smile on Austria's face as she spoke. Right now she was being the most honest she had been with France in a long time.
Story notes: France calls Austria my love, my pussycat, my little doe and my beauty. Liechtenstein had been part of the Holy Roman Empire. The Napoleonic Wars saw the real beginnings of Liechtenstein as we know it. After the war Liechtenstein joined the German Confederation which was basically led by Austria. Basically, until the end of WWI, Liechtenstein was very closely tied with Austria. Switzerland was under the control of France during the Napoleonic Wars.
I do admit to playing fast and lose with Liechtenstein's history though for the sake of having her be a prisoner.
Also, Napoleon happened to be average height. The myth about him being short had two causes. The first was that the British foot and the French foot are two different units of measurement. The other was that his bodyguards were all very tall. So when they were around him they made him look shorter then he really was.
