AN:/This is an AU. Very much so in fact. It really doesn't have much to do with canon when you get down to it. But that's what fanfictions are for, no? Just thought I'd give a fair warning. Now on with the story.
I
His time was running out and he knew. It was almost funny, really. A few years ago he had prayed for this day to come, had wished for nothing more dearly than the end of this farce he begrudgingly called his life. Of course his prayers had to be answered just after he changed his mind. Silently he wondered if the Lord was laughing at him right now. He probably was. Well, in a few days he might be able to give him a piece of his mind in person at least...
Roderich Edelstein, personification of Austria, was forcefully ripped from his thoughts by a door slamming shut behind him. He had been pacing up and down his office at the Hofburg, fidgeting with a violin bow as he did so, for a good while now. When he turned around he found himself looking at the frustrated figure of his president. The man looked like he desperately needed a drink, and Roderich could hardly blame him. All of them were about ready to down a few bottles of Vodka by now, if they were being honest.
"So I take it Italy won't be helping us then?," Roderich decided to ask when his boss didn't say anything. Not that he couldn't have guessed the answer already. Italy had pretty much ditched them years ago after all, even though Feliciano had tried to prevent it. It was a nice gesture, he supposed.
Miklas just shook his head with a grave expression, and Roderich almost felt bad for him. Almost. They had never gotten along too well and it was no secret they didn't like each other. If he was being honest, he didn't like most of his government, but this was not the time for infighting. There were important things at stake right now, more important than their comparatively petty disagreements.
His president said they would try to call France and Britain, who were technically allies of theirs too. Roderich couldn't stop himself from snorting at that. If that was their best bet, hope really was lost. Usually, his boss would have at least glared at him for doing something like that, but he just sighed. This situation was entirely hopeless, wasn't it? At least, Roderich guessed, they could say that they tried. That ought to count for something, right?
He left the building soon after that at his bosses suggestion. There was nothing left to do for him right now but wait and pacing up and down in his office wasn't going to help anyone. So he might as well get some fresh air. Or at least so Miklas had said. Roderich doubted that fresh air was going to improve his mood, but he complied anyway. It wasn't as if it mattered. By now Germany had given them four hours to essentially surrender. And they would, Roderich knew. They all knew. It had been obvious for a while that their days were numbered, no matter how desperately his bosses tried to change that. With a sigh he sat down on a park bench and watched the people passing by him.
His people, he thought. Because he had a people now, not really stable, strong or large yet, but still there. The feeling was incredible. It was no wonder the others had always been so insistent in these regards. He had never paid them much mind before, but now he finally began to understand. Just in time to have it ripped away from him again. And judging by the kinds of plans Germany seemed to have he wouldn't get an opportunity to get it back.
Roderich wasn't a fool, quite the opposite in fact, and he knew perfectly well that this unity Germany kept enthusiastically talking about whenever they met would be a death sentence for him. After all, if all German peoples were united as one, and Austria gone for good, there would be no need for him any more, would there, or for any of the other states. Not that Roderich cared much for most of the other German nations, with the exception maybe of Bavaria. But he didn't want them to die either, nor did he want to die himself any longer. Of course, Germany wouldn't get that into his thick skull, or if he did he was hiding it well.
He wondered if Germany even realised what he was doing. After all, the nation was barely more than a child at the end of the day. Not that it really mattered, he guessed. Germany wasn't going to stray from his orders, whatever he may personally think of the matter. And Roderich was going to die. And his people would be left in a cultureless abyss in a world void of beauty and art. His own bosses laws were already driving him mad, and Germany's would be so much worse if the news from across the border were anything to go by. As far as Roderich was concerned that was the worst part about all this, worse even than his impending doom.
He really did try to think of a way out. All of them had. But his bosses weren't exactly beacons of sanity, calm and competence and if he had to admit it, he himself was not doing too well either. And tomorrow it would all be over, he guessed, one way or another. Roderich wondered how quickly he would cease to be. He knew nations could live just fine under another's rule, but he had never actually considered the specifics of the process. Not to mention most of the others had at least one of their parts left intact when they were dissolved. It probably would come down to how long his people would continue to call themselves that. Roderich gave it three weeks, maybe a month.
As expected, France and Britain weren't available. They were officially on their own. Soon Miklas had decided to step back, and Schuschnigg had followed suit soon after. Roderich had to admit his farewell speech was rather moving, all bad feelings between the two of them aside.
The rest of the day went by in a sort of daze for Roderich. He watched people hastily walk past him, suitcases in hand, as the first police men were donning a Swastika on their uniforms. The whole country was up and about, doing one thing or anther in preparation of what was to come. Roderich found himself walking to the State Opera instead of his home, where he spent some time chatting with a friend or two. It was a pleasant distraction, but even then the mood was worse than usual. They were about to loose some good musicians and supporters, they were all sure, and it dragged them down. It should be a crime, Roderich thought, to deny somebody access to music and art.
When he finally made his way home, there was a strange ringing in his ears and his mind was unfocused. For a long while he stared out of the window of the apartment he had bought in the First District a long time ago, watching the people still about on the street below even now. Some of them seemed to have acquired torches or something of that sort. He hoped they wouldn't end up damaging something valuable. When he finally managed to tear himself away from the sight, his stomach was growling but he didn't really feel like eating at all. Instead, he made his way to the music room and sat down by his piano.
For a moment he just sat there, body unmoving and mind devoid of all thoughts. Then, without him really putting much conscious thought into it, his fingers began moving. Soon the melodies of Beethoven, Chopin, Debussy, Strauss, Bach and many more could be heard throughout the flat. It was a colourful mix of music he played that night, sombre and happy, fast and slow, wild and gentle. An homage to the men he admired so, Roderich thought to himself, while he still had the chance. And so he played and kept on playing even as his fingers began to hurt and his eyes grew heavy.
At some point throughout the night he must have fallen asleep, because he awoke the next day slumped over the keys of his piano. With a frown he got up and went to the kitchen, staring wearily at the food in his cupboard. He still didn't feel like eating anything, but he should probably at least try. Roderich managed to force down a piece of bread and some water before he went and checked the time. It was still fairly early, he noted in mild annoyance. He had never been much of a morning person, even on the best of days. For a while he stared at the clock, unsure what to do with himself. He should probably go and introduce himself to his new boss and do his job as a nation but he couldn't bring himself to do so. Maybe he should just stay here and hide in his music room until Germany inevitably showed up at his doorstep? It was an endearing thought, but he decided against it. He needed something to keep his mind off the situation lest he drove himself completely back over the bend.
So eventually he settled on visiting his friend Jonas, a fellow musician working at the Volksoper. They could go and enjoy the cultural wonders of Vienna one last time before what still remained of it was ruined too, he supposed. And so he eventually found himself on the tram to Leopoldstadt, trying to ignore the goings on around him. He wasn't particularly successful.
When he finally knocked on Jonas' door, his mood was worse than it had already been when he woke up. It didn't help that this district seemed an even worse mess than the others. You could probably cause an explosion from the tension here. Not that Roderich was particularly surprised by that, everything considered, but that didn't make it sour his mood any less. Neither did his near run in with an angry police man or the nasty glances some people shot him as he walked past them. Jonas opened the door a bit more hesitantly and with a wearier look than usual, though his face brightened once he saw Roderich. Cheerfully he was invited inside and offered some tea.
When Roderich told him of his plan for the day, Jonas, seemed more than happy to tag along. It occurred to Roderich that his friend probably needed the distraction too, possibly more so than he himself did. So after having a cup of tea, they went out, very much intending to avoid the events of the day. For that they had to use a lot of small side streets, but they didn't mind much. They visited the opera and chatted with some of their friends there, went to a museum, admired the art and architecture their beloved city had to offer. Much as many of his people disdained Vienna, Roderich wouldn't trade it for the world. He adored the place.
Finally, they settled in a coffee shop, enjoying some Viennese coffee and pastries. In the background, the sound of tanks, of cheering and chanting, the general bustling of people accompanied them. It had done so for most of the day, though they tried to ignore it as best as they could. Eventually, when that didn't work out, they just began joking about it instead. Oddly enough, it helped.
And so Roderich Edelstein did not visit the Heldenplatz that day. He did not meet his new ruler, did not stand in a cheering crowd. He did not meet up with the personification of Germany, who so loyally accompanied his ruler and he did not wear any uniform or bear a weapon. In the back of his mind a small voice complained about this very much un-nation like behaviour, but he decidedly ignored it. After all, he wasn't even really a nation anyway, at least not enough of one to care. He wouldn't be able to avoid the confrontation with Germany and whatever may follow it for long, so he could at least try and enjoy himself for a bit before his time came.
So, instead of acting like a nation or a diplomat, the musician Roderich Edelstein spent the day with is friend Jonas Holtzer, talking about arts and culture, telling jokes and enjoying himself a bit. When they went to visit an opera concert in the evening, they had almost managed to banish the troubling thoughts from their minds. Almost.