A/n: Don't worry; I'm working on that 8th chapter of Undefeated. This story has just been on my mind forever. I've never gotten to writing it though.
It's SerbiaxCroatia, mainly from Croatia's point of view. It skips around in his memories as a nation and as a man; what he's done, and what he wishes he would have done.
This may have some historical inaccuracies, seeing that I am not Balkan in the least (I'm Polish-Slovak [and others, but mainly those two]), and this is simply my interpretation of the history of Croatia that I read about. Trying to put personifications into history can be difficult.
The song "Overdose" is by the band Hurt. I recommend listening to the song while reading the story. Normally Hurt does some pretty hard rock songs, but this is one of their more orchestral, meaningful songs.
Warnings: Some medication abuse, swearing, and overall angst.
The words in italic are both flashbacks and lyrics to the song mentioned above. You'll be able to tell the difference between the two.
Enjoy the story!
Xxx
I'll take one, 'cause I needed to feel it so much,
I had an emotional crutch, but,
I'm feeling bored so I'll take some more,
Cause nothing is happening,
And once you told me that you loved me so much,
I foolishly began to trust, but,
Now I'm ignored and I'm taking more, until,
Something is happening.
It was one of those days for Andelko J. Begovich. Nothing was going on. He was not needed to be anywhere. There were no celebration, no mourning; it was gray period. Neutral.
These were the days that harmed him the most. The days where he allowed himself to think of the past. The days where he often remembered the darker things he had done; when he had been at his worst.
As he laid on his couch, staring up at the ceiling, pill bottle in one hand, pill in the other, he pondered.
He let out a heavy sigh and slipped the pill into his mouth, swallowing it without need of water. The pills he took were anti-depressants; many nations took them to try to ease the burden of memories, but they didn't work. Representations couldn't suffer an overdose; Andelko knew this all too well.
If only everyone saw past his usually strong demeanor and recognized who he was; that he was not half the man he used to be. Pathetic was a word he secretly described himself to be. Feeble. Useless. Sure, he was a nation and he represented people who were mildly happy, but he was still at least a bit human. He had lived since the 7th century. He had been married, he had been powerful, he had everything he needed at one point, but his tale, his history, got sadder as it went on. His marriage was torn apart by a new ruler, and he was forced to live under a man who pushed him down.
"Elizibeta?" Younger, teenage Andelko called out to his wife as he entered his home after a meeting with his leader, Vladislaus II. It was 1492, and Croatia was in a personal Union with Hungary. Sure, Andelko was a young country, and Elizibeta was older than him, but they were married no matter the length of their existence.
"Good evening, Andelko." The Hungarian came down the steps with a smile on her face. Once Andelko removed he military-style coat, he encircled his arms around the woman.
"How was the meeting?" Elizibeta questioned, swiping a lock of Andelko's medium length hair out of his brown eyes.
"We reached a verdict in the dispute over my people's liberties, and the erasing of parts of the diploma." Andelko responded, a smile gracing his features.
"I'll take that smile as a good sign?" Elizibeta placed a hand on the lightly-bearded cheek of the younger Croatian, who chuckled slightly.
"Yes. My people and I; we've gotten what we wanted."
"So that means you're recognizing King Vladislaus?"
"Yes, and he has recognized me now as more than just a mere province."
"This is wonderful, Andelko." Elizibeta tightly hugged the other representation, placing a kiss on his cheek.
Andelko found himself chuckling at the memory. His marriage to Hungary had brought him happiness, but as many know; happiness never lasts. It was the first time he would learn it the hardest of ways.
Years went by since the day King Vladislaus was recognized by the Croatians. Andelko soon found himself targeted by Ottoman incursion into Europe, and he became a border area.
As he lay in his bed, pain shot through his bandaged side. So many battles. So many wounds. So much land lost. He was feeling it; oh yes, he knew he was heading for the worst of times. The Turks were taking all they could from him.
He whimpered as another heavy wave of pain tore through his body. Elizibeta, sitting next to him in a chair, grasped his hand with her own bandaged one.
"Andelko… You must do something to stop them… We both must…" She told him.
"B-But what…? Elizibeta… I don't know what more I can do than fight alongside m-my people."
"Andelko… You got stabbed in the side… You are not going out to the frontlines again. I will not allow you to get hurt any further."
"A-And what will you do? You h-" Andelko was cut off by a third shot of pain. He tense and shut his eyes tight, resisting the urge to cry out. It was hard enough to allow Elizibeta to see him this way; he didn't want her thinking that she would lose him. They had spent years upon years together.
"Andelko? Are you okay?" Elizibeta questioned. Andelko, once the pain subsided enough for him to speak, nodded slightly and told her that he was fine in her native tongue. He had picked up quite a bit of Hungarian while living with the woman, but was surprised that he could remember it with the state he was in.
A lone soldier entered the doorway, catching the attention of the two representations.
"Mrs. Hedervary," The soldier started. "You are needed on the battlefield."
Elizibeta nodded at the man. "Give me a moment and then I'll be out. Let me say goodbye to my husband for now."
"Yes ma'am." The soldier exited the room and left the two representations to be for a few moments.
"P-Please, Elizibeta… Be careful…" Andelko pleaded.
"I will. I promise. Now rest, Andelko… I'll be back before you know it." The Hungarian replied, leaning down and giving the injured representation a light kiss.
It felt like ages before Andelko received any word of the Hungarian woman he had fallen for. Andelko, having healed up quite a bit, was able to get around on his own without the help of the maids who had stayed there to assist him in what he needed.
Andelko was standing out on the back porch of their home, staring out at the bright sky. It was 1526. Andelko knew there had been a large battle going on. When he saw the line of horses heading towards the house, Andelko was slightly confused. The men on the horses were soldiers, but Elizibeta was nowhere to be seen.
"Sir." One of the soldiers said, halting his horse in front of the young representation. "We bear a message for you."
"And that message is?" Andelko responded, raising an eyebrow at the man.
"The Battle of Mohacs has been lost, and King Louis II of Hungary is dead… Hungarian authority of Croatia is over. Miss Hedervary will not be returning to this home."
"Wh-What…?"
"She wanted me to return this to you, sir." The soldier approached Andelko and held out a closed hand. Andelko put out an open one, and the soldier dropped what was in his hand. A ring fell into the palm of Andelko's hand, and the representation stared somberly at it.
"Tell her… Tell her that I wish her the best and a full recovery of any wounds she received…" Andelko clenched his hand around the ring. "Be on your way, soldier."
The other man nodded then headed back over to his horse, hopping on and soon trotting off.
Andelko stood there, mouth opened slightly, brow furrowed. He opened his hand to see the golden ring that Elizibeta had once wore, and then looked at his left hand. He slowly brought his fingers over the ring that was on his ring finger, and slid the gold band off. He held the two rings in his right hand, and then shut it tightly. That's when he swore to himself that he'd never marry again. That he'd never let himself love anyone like he had Elizibeta.
Andelko remembered that day so vividly. It may have been so long ago, but his memory of old times was undying on the days when he allowed himself to think of the past. Slowly, he brought another pill to his mouth in a futile attempt to numb himself. He wanted to remember everything, but it would cause him pain. Pain he would deal with, regardless how many of the small white pills he took.
Andelko, in 1572, got to feel his chest tighten so painfully, he struggled to breathe. When he saw Elizibeta holding onto the arm of that Austrian representation, he thought he was going die then and there.
He stared the Hapsburg-supportive Roderich in the eyes, a cold glower he had never given before. He then glanced to Elizibeta, the same coldness in his eyes. The Hungarian met his gaze, and then ashamedly looked away. Andelko, with fists clenched tightly, knew that the woman was feeling guilt. But whose fault was it really? She could not control the fact that the battle had been lost, and that King Louis II had died. She could not control the fact that she could not come back to Andelko. She now had a ring upon her finger from the man she currently had her hands on. That damned aristocrat.
Andelko knew that Roderich was his last hope. The Hapsburgs would save him. Andelko was desperate; he was so weak. Parliament authorized the creation of a military frontier; Andelko was being put to use for war. But what other use was he in the condition he was in? The Hapsburgs were allowed to do anything to him as long as it helped him recover.
Time went by, and Andelko found himself losing more and more against the Ottomans. Much land was taken from him, and the land that was left was populated by Serbs, Vlachs, Croats, Germans and others. He was no longer the Croatia he had been in previous years.
But finally, things started to turn around. The Battle of Sisak was won, and the Ottomans were repelled successfully. Soon, he found that most of his land was recovered, and that he himself was finally getting some peace.
By the 18th century, the Ottoman Empire was driven out of the region, and Andelko actually found himself in support of Austria's new Empress; Maria Theresa. Significant contributions to Croatian matters were made subsequent to the Croat's support in the War of Austrian Secession.
Andelko smiled slightly at the memories of his recovery from the brink of disaster he had been in. But what came after his recovery was something he would never forget; the first Yugoslavia.
I'll take one 'cause I needed to feel it so much,
I needed that thing we call fun, but,
Now I'm ignored and I'll take some more, until,
Something is happening,
'Cause once I thought you were right here with me, so,
Maybe I'll take two or three,
Until I believe what I have seen is really happening.
Shortly after World War I, Andelko found himself involved with yet another union. At first it was the State of Slovenes, Croats and Serbs, but became the Kingdom of Yugoslavia through a slur of political madness.
It was also when he had met Serbia face-to-face for the first time. There was such magnetism about the other representation. Though his people, the Croats, did not like the Serbs, Andelko himself took a liking to Novak Novkovic.
"So you are Andelko; representation of Croatia correct?" Novak looked to him during a small meeting.
"Yes, I am." Andelko responded, nodding his head slightly.
"I must say, for a man who's been through hell and back, you don't look like it. It looks as if no war has ever struck such a handsome man." That was the first hint of flirtation from Novak that Andelko ever received.
Andelko found himself slightly hostile at the blonde man many times throughout the years, but that magnetism remained. It caused Andelko, or "Andy" as Novak liked to call him, to feel less enraged at the politics of the kingdom of Yugoslavia. When his people were pushed down, all it took was a smile and the slightest touch form the Serbian representation to calm Andelko's nerves.
It was sad, to be honest. Andelko was doing no justice to his people, finding such an attraction in the Serbian representation. Andelko found himself wondering; is this man really what I think he is? Is he really my next love? He proved the latter question to be true, finding himself married to Novak. He continued to think, though. He continued to wonder; why am I doing such an injustice to my own people?
But World War II struck, leaving Andelko no time to ponder. Somehow the radical Ustaše of Croatia came to power, and he existed as a state. Concentration camps were built, and his government was targeting Serbs, Romas, Jews, and Croatian partisans. With every man killed by a Croatian's hand, Andelko felt guilt. What the hell was all of this for?
A name, Josip Broz Tito became known soon. He was a leader of sorts of an anti-fascist communist-led Partisan movement, based on pan-Yugoslav ideology.
Andelko found himself free of the Axis Powers in 1945 with help from the Red Army, and the partisans of his nation. Against all odds, the partisans had gained the upper hand. Somehow. Andelko couldn't quite figure it all out, despite the fact that he represented the Croats. He was just as confused as many were.
Andelko cringed a bit, remembering how harsh World War II had been. It was ridiculous, really. Andelko vividly remembered the concentration camps that had been in use on his land, and equally remembered the faces of those he saw. It was haunting, really.
Post-World War II was a confusing time for the Croatian representation, but the Yugoslav name was still held in a union. The Socialist Federative Republic of Yugoslavia; the second Yugoslavia.
Andelko laid down on the bed he and Novak shared after a long day of meetings and arguments within political boundaries. He let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes, just wishing to rest. He opened his eyes though, when another person sat on the edge of the bed.
"Tired, Andy?" Novak asked as he shed his olive green suit coat, placing it over one of the bedposts. Andelko nodded in response to his question.
"Things just keep getting more and more stressful around here…" He replied.
"I know." Novak lay down next to the Croatian, propping himself up on an elbow. "But we'll get through. With Tito in charge, we'll become stronger and more unified than ever. Just imagine it, Andelko; a greater era for us, without the spite… Imagine a Greater Serbia that would lead us to power and righteousness…"
Andelko gave his younger-looking husband a slightly confused look. "Greater Serbia?"
"It's a fantastic idea, actually… My government has been trying and trying for years and years to get this put out there… It's the creation of a Serbian land which would incorporate all regions of traditional significance to Serbia. This movement's main ideology is to unite all of my people, or all historically ruled or Serb populated lands, into one state..." Novak explained with a smile on his face. To Andelko, he sounded a bit brainwashed.
"Wouldn't that mean laying claims to land that doesn't currently belong to the Serbs though? Like some of my land, or Zlatko's?"
"It all is for a good cause though; Andelko, if my nation prospers, the Balkan region will continue to prosper. Have you not been in good shape since the start of this union? Admit it; the second Yugoslavia has pulled you out of a metaphorical ditch."
Andelko sighed. "I suppose it has… But I am not so sure that this "Greater Serbia" is such a good idea… We are thriving currently with just the normal Serbia, are we not?"
Novak draped an arm over the abdomen of the other representation, gently rubbing the scarred side underneath the thin layers of clothing the man wore. "Your side has healed from back then… Has the scar shrunk at all in your recovery?" He changed the subject of the conversation slightly.
"I have not looked at it as of recent. I prefer not to…" Andelko responded, bringing his hand up and grabbing Novak's, pulling it away from the site of the scar.
"You got that when you were married to Elizibeta, correct?" Novak asked, taking his hand back and setting it on Andelko's chest.
"That is why I prefer not to look at it… It reminds me of how she left me so painfully. It's like the scar isn't from a war wound, but a representation of the love that she crushed so heartlessly…" Andelko scoffed slightly. "But who am I to say that…? She couldn't control it, and neither could I… That… That bastard, Roderich… He frustrates me to no end; how the hell was I supposed to do anything for my people or for myself when I was in such a condition as I was? I refuse to believe that he had saved me from ending up like one of the far too many fallen nations of the past… I refuse…" He was about to continue, but Novak interrupted him by placing the hand that had been on the Croatian's chest on his bearded cheek.
"Calm down, Andelko… You're getting choked up." The Serbian said. Andelko now noticed the lump that had formed in his throat and the tears that stung at his eyes.
"I'm sorry…" Andelko muttered, forcing himself to be composed.
"It's quite alright; I know how you feel… Whenever I think of the mistakes I made back in the Balkan Wars… And all of the mistakes prior… And all of the pain that I've been through… I become just as you are. Emotionally shattered."
"Do you ever wonder when things will go bad again..? I've learned throughout the years that happiness… It never lasts. It cannot last forever…"
"Ah, but things will change. You must not be so angry when things go wrong in your nation, Andelko; I will do my best to fix them. I promise that to you, not only as a nation, but as a man as well."
"My anger spurs from my people, not from my personality."
"I do not believe that to be the truth. You know how easily hostile you become. That cannot spur from your people alone, Andelko. You are angry. You are spiteful for the things you have lost, and you fear what you will lose in the future."
Andelko couldn't find words to say in response. Novak continued, bringing himself a bit closer to the Croatian, placing his hand once again on his scarred side.
"When you think of how you lost Elizibeta, you not only become sad, but angered as well. When you remember the Balkan Wars, and how I made those mistakes I did, you become infuriated. And further, when things do not go your way now, your vindictiveness grows." Novak leaned in to whisper in the ear of Andelko.
"But a Greater Serbia will force that hatred out of you. I will flourish, and you will as well… You will have no reason for such odium as you have held onto for years… No reason for anger… Do you understand, Hrvatskoj?"
"I…" Andelko paused. "I understand, and I do not believe you… I think that you are telling me lies; what good could come out of something like a "Greater Serbia"?" He shoved the other representation away slightly.
"You will see, Andelko. Your thoughts will be proven wrong. I will fix everything, once my goal is achieved." Novak placed a nearly forced kiss on the lips of the other man, then stood.
"Are you insane, Novak…? No nation has ever set such a blasphemous goal as yours! You know no one will allow you to simply take what land you believe to be your own. A "Greater Serbia" will never succeed!" Andelko retorted.
"You, my husband, will be proven wrong. I promise you that." Novak, with those sharp words, left the room. Andelko sat on the bed, confused, enraged, distraught. How was he to live with Novak if the Serbian sounded brainwashed by this whole idea of a "Greater Serbia"?
Andelko subconsciously took another pill, realizing that the memories playing in his head of escalating arguments between he and Novak were starting to bother him. Tears had brought themselves to his weary brown eyes, and he refused to let them fall.
No; no more!
God, Morpheus, why did you leave me when I had need of your love?
No holding back now,
Give me the real thing,
I've got a reason,
When I am alone,
Don't you ever try to take me back.
Andelko failed to restrain those tears as he remembered the late 1900s.
Andelko walked into his home, an unsympathetic look on his face, fists clenched tightly in anger. He had spent years upon years trying to make things better. He had spent years upon years trying to cope with everything that had happened in the 1900s. He had spent years and years married to Novak. But now, he had taken enough mental strain. His people, the Croatians, had made their decision.
They were leaving Yugoslavia. Permanently.
Andelko, though satisfied with the outcome of the voting in his nation, was still enraged. Everything that he had held back for years was now boiling to the surface. And as he entered the room in which he had stayed ever since 1945, he was met face to face with the man he had been so hostile towards, and was still hostile towards.
"Andelko, wh-what is this…?" Novak knew of the situation.
"You know damn well what it is. Now get out of my way, Chetnik." Andelko shoved past the Serbian to get to his belongings in the room. There were few, which meant he would get out of here soon. He grabbed his bag and began to pack up what he owned.
"But Andelko… D-Do you have any idea what you're doing?" Novak questioned shakily, obviously stunned.
"Yes, I do. I would apologize, but I am truthfully not sorry for you, Novak. If you step within Croatian borders now that I have claimed my independence, know that you will not get far. I will force you out. I have lived with you for years and years, trying my best to hold us together, but you fucked up. Maybe I did as well; maybe everyone did. But my blame goes to you."
"Andelko, please…"
"I don't have a choice but to leave, Novak. I've already done enough of an injustice to my people by marrying you; if I stayed even when my independence has been claimed, I would never be forgiven by those who I represent."
"Andy, I-"
"Do not call me that, you fucking Vlach. You have no right to speak of me in such a way." Andelko turned to Novak and grabbed the front of the Serbian's olive-green suit coat, face mere inches away from the other's.
"I will return to you what you should have never given me, and what I never should have accepted." Andelko let go for a moment and pulled a gold ring off of the ring finger on his left hand. He grabbed Novak's hand and shoved the ring into his palm, forcefully closing the fingers around it.
"Andelko… Please, don't leave me like this…" The Serbian said, voice close to that of begging.
"I have no choice, you damned Serb. My people have made their decision."
Novak, unable to reply, simply stepped back, allowing the Croatian representation to finish up packing.
"Though I am extremely dissatisfied with how Yugoslavia has turned out, you at least deserve one last kiss from me, for everything you tried. This is the last form of affection you will ever get from me, Novak. That is a promise."
Andelko placed a hand on the shoulder of the Serbian and leaned in, placing that final kiss to the other man's lips. Once their lips separated, Andelko quickly left, tears stinging at his brown eyes. He refused to let them fall. He couldn't let them fall while he still remained on Serbian land. He had to wait until he was home to break down.
But it took almost five years for him to allow himself to do so.
When the Croatian War of Independence was won, he finally broke. Nearly five years of war had torn him apart, and he finally let it show. He sat against a wall and started to sob heavily, curling up his knees to his chest, arms blocking his face from view.
He had won his independence, but at what cost?
Andelko found himself tossing an empty pill bottle aside and sighing heavily, shakily. He reached up with his sleeve over his hand and dried his dampened cheeks.
Memories clung to him; no matter how many medications he took, no matter how much rest he achieved, no matter how long it had been.
He would never forget anything.