Prenote and Disclaimer: Alright, this is my first Hetalia fic. The only reason I watch/read this is because the author/Funimation is brilliant in every way and this has to be the smartest anime out there. I know it has a large fan following (though please guys, Hetalia is not a replacement for a history book or research). There really isn't a character I don't like...but I do dislike the random fan pairings (you do realize the UK and France hate each other right? And that Prussia never really had anything to do with Hungary historically). I know the author throws that stuff in there just to please those yaoi fans but oh well...what ever floats you guys' boats.
There is some Austro-Hungarianess but that's not the point of the story (and yes folks...that is the only canon and historical pair peeps...no matter how much some will claw Prussia in there *groans*)
Anywho...I decided to insert a lot of current event references combined with historical references that I will footnote at the bottom.
Otherwise...let's give this a shot.
Chapter 1
The winter months struck Austria with cold and wonder.
Even now the country lay on his bed in his home flat hiding in the bleak warmth. He had been around for what? Over a thousand years? Now he was feeling a bit strained, every year of that millennium beginning to wear on him.
Currently, he looked physically young-ish. Not young like Italy or Lichtenstein, but not yet middle aged. But, boy he felt older than France and Greece combined.
He just did not want to get up today. He didn't want to get up any day.
His meetings with the other European Nations were just a disaster. Most of it was about the Euro and its shaky status. Money was the only way to get the European Nations to ally with each other, but it was the most toxic thing that joined them.
His meetings with the other nations, European and otherwise, was just a hellhole. Half of those countries were in utter chaos.
Greece was working harder than he ever did to try stabilizing his financial status, yet the fact that he took frequent naps did not help his cause any.
America often came in looking tired, his tie askew, hair even more ruffled and looking older by the day, solving his own issues that have just piled up over the years.
Hell, most of the European nations were on a short fuse lately. The only thing that calmed Britain down was the joyous wedding of his royal family a year ago. Now he was missing meetings to try to prepare for the Olympics.
China would come in and brag about his booming economy, yet he was considerate enough not to hound countries like America for money they owed.
Japan had gotten better very quick after that horrible sickness and that caused seizures in his body and cold sweats.
France was being his obnoxious self, trying to hide the fact that Europe's problems were quickly going to strike his heart.
Germany seemed to be the only one stable and confident. He had everything in order, his life was good, his financial status great and stable despite the crumbling nations around him.
Well, good for him.
Austria guessed he deserved some reprieve after how he was treated at Versailles that directly caused massive chaos over the next century.
However, Austria was forever linked to Germany after he allowed the blond man to annex him during those dreadful years in WWII. It was either that or total destruction that he was sure he could never recover from. To this day he could hear those cries of 200,000 of his people as they were dragged away to be confined in camps. He would forever regret it, and it would forever be his fault.
Now the Jewish community were rebuilding themselves slowly, but it left a scar on Austria, who was, in himself, part Jewish.*
Bygones be bygones, he thought as he rolled over in his bed. Germany's prosperity was melting onto him a little, given their connection. Germany was one of the few who thought to visit him, looking happier than he had ever been. Otherwise, Austria secluded himself. He rarely spoke at meetings and sometimes refused to go.
All those blustering nations always gave him headaches. He was silent, taking in all those hurtful comments about Serbians and Franz Ferdinand and the Anschluss and being Germany's bed buddy.
Some had more respect for him than that as he was an older nation, but it didn't mean that Austria didn't remember every excruciating failure from the fall of the Austrian Empire to the global economic crisis.
Austria breathed out, feeling a light chill from the winter midmorning. He was feeling depressed and he felt that he was aging fast. His bones were beginning to ache and that hindered him from getting motivation to do even the simplest of his pastimes. Even, his piano downstairs in his parlor was gathering dust.
In the back of his mind, he thought this depressive phase was a sign of a sickness, of his age, of the inevitability that he will be gone.
Though he had not really witnessed it, nations die.
Perhaps he was dying too.
After all, what was left? Tourism? Nowadays no one took merit into his say. He was just a small Germanic country now. Still the middle road between northern, southern, western, and eastern Europe. He figured it did well with his diversity as a nation, but in the past, this diversity only caused heartache**.
Reduced to a buffer, he thought bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest, still laying on his side, looking at the snow fall.
He closed his eyes, trying to retreat back into his fantasy. A totally real time in which he was strong and respected. Other nations would bow in gratitude and ask for his advice, looking up to him like a parent or an older brother. He was as great as any nation and ruled a large part of Europe, nothing to scoff at given the animosities and diverse cultures of Europe.
That all went into a shit-storm at the turn of the last century.
Outside Austria's home, Germany sighed. Austria had been acting oddly during the last few meetings. Refusing to speak when his time was given. He instead would lend his time to Germany or the Czech Republic or Russia.
And lately…he was not present.
Germany was now worried about his former housemate. They both had similar principles though Austria was not nearly a hard worker as Germany.
The tall blond man straightened his business coat, not so much as flinching in the chilled weather. He pounded on the door. No answer. He decided to call out the man's name. No answer.
With dull shake of his head, Germany left the man's doorstep.
Austria cringed in his bed, hearing Germany's pleas for him to open his door. No doubt to force to go to those damn conferences. He cursed. Something he didn't often do until recently. He pounded his hand against the cold mattress and forced himself to sit up in bed.
Running his hands over his face, he peered out his window.
The snow dusted streets of Vienna. Cold and calm, gentle. His Vienna. The apple of his eye. How this magnificent place still maintained the remnants of his former glory was beyond him. Couples walked quietly about the historical streets, wrapped comfortably in their warm coats, smiling as their breaths caressed the air.
Winter in Vienna was special. It was warm. Not in physical sense, mind you, but a soft, nostalgic warmth that always seemed to curl around in his breast. It was beautiful.
Not like the colorless gray winters in Russia or Finland. Winters here had, he figured, a musical warm ambiance and character. Heck, the only thing gray and dull was his god-forsaken place.
Slowly, feeling his bones creak, he stood up, still staring at the cobblestone streets and the people passing by. Scratching the back of his neck he headed towards his bathroom and turned on the lights.
He turned on the taps of his shower and let it run, waiting for the water to turn hot. He took off his white beater and dropped it on the floor. Before doing anything else, he took a good hard look at himself in the mirror.
Jesus, what happened?
He used to be trim and well groomed. Now, well, it could have been worse, he suspected. His body and weight were just fine. He did thicken around his waist a little, so now he looked stocky, but built and toned enough, he guessed. The body of a very fit middle-aged man. No longer that desired slim, straight T frame he used to have in his youth.
No, his body was not the problem. It was just…him.
His eyes looked weary, the violet piercing irises shining pale. His brown hair was now lank. Even his Mariazell curl seemed to sag. He rubbed the beard that was growing on his face, thick enough to cover his mole. Should he shave his face?
Austria let out a breath, shoulders slumping, and he began removing his sleeping pajamas.
Whenever Austria showered, his mind had a tendency to wander. Usually working out tunes and melodies in his head. Other times his mind would wander to his regretful past.
Now as the hot water worked the aching muscles of his back, his mind wandered to the day when he heard those gunshots.
He heard his heir cry, ""Sopherl! Sopherl! Sterbenicht! Bleibeam Lebenfürunsere Kinder!" (Sophie dear! Sophie! Don't die! Stay alive for our children!)***
Not long after he had to watch the burial of Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie. Hungary gathered the Archduke's children and comforted them while he was silent, rage churning against the Serbians. Recklessly, he became hell bent in wringing Serbia's throat despite the despicable and horrid web of uneasy alliances that wove around Europe.
The beginning of the end.
His marriage with Hungary collapsed shortly after, and needless to say it was never the same. With World War II, the Iron Curtain, the Cold War, the European Union, he couldn't find time to mend anything back and he quickly lost his drive to.
What was Hungary up to now, again? He'd only seen her a few times hanging around with the Slavic nations. That's right. He almost forgot. She was helping form the Visegrad with Poland, Slovakia, and Czech Republic to combine their militaries into one uber-Eastern European force.
While she was worried about her relations with her neighbors, Austria made sure that he had some of his country's financial investors at least bring in some revenue into her country. It was the least he could do.
He didn't realize how long he was in the shower, but the water turned cold and he quickly turned the tap off. Austria wrapped a towel around his waist and began to vigorously brushing his teeth.
He slipped on a plain white button-up shirt and some slacks and head downstairs of his dark and dreary house.
He wanted a cappuccino or something…stronger. The sharp ticking of his grandfather clock pulled his attention. Now it was late morning…a half hour before noon. He could forgo a cappuccino and go strait to a Schnapps or Jaeger. Those would certainly light a fire under his lazy ass. He pulled open the cabinets to find that both desired alcoholic mixes were empty or close to it. He groaned and sighed, suddenly feeling a pounding in his head.
In the darkness, he strode to his parlor, gazing tiredly at his neglected piano. He could try to give it a go. He tried every morning so far and every morning he left the bench with barely a note played. Though it was doubtful, maybe today he could get something started.
He eased himself on the bench with a grunt. There was no music in front of him. He didn't really need it. He knew most of his favorite pieces by heart and there was no point to music sheets if he was working on writing a new one. Or at least attempting to.
He slowly pushed the metal rod of the metronome, creating a ticking rhythm at a moderate pace. He sucked in a breath. What was he in the mood for? A nocturne? A sonata? An impromptu? God, he didn't know.
He was in the mood for nothing at the moment. The incessant ticking of the metronome along with the grandfather clock was the only sound in the house. Austria was never really alone, until now.
He slowly rubbed his worn hand on his neck, working those aged knots out himself. With a sigh and a grunt, he shut his eyes tight. He wasn't in the mood today. He shut off the metronome, and closed the case of the piano. The man didn't bother with coffee or cake or eggs, he just went back upstairs to his bedroom, lay back on the bed, fully clothed and slept through the day.
Kind of a dull start eh? This is a subdued story...but hopefully you'll find it a little relieving later on.
*Austria himself isn't officially Jewish and there is a picture of him with a cross necklace so he's officially Catholic I believe. However his human last name, Edelstein, is a Jewish surname and a good portion of Austria's population was Jewish until...well..a lot of things really. So I thought it would make an interesting dynamic.
**This was one of the problems within the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The had such a diverse group of people (Slavs, Czechs, Serbs, Roms, etc.) within their Empire that it became next to impossible to not offend or piss off one group with any legislation.
***This was Franz Ferdinand's words to his dying wife after they were shot while still in the car. Shortly thereafter they both died (well...yeah...duh sinisterkat...we all know that).
Austria financially is doing fairly well right now and Germany is doing REALLY well. Greece...not so much. I almost laughed when I realized his personalization always slept in the show and the strips. Well, now we know where their financial crash came from...
Anschluss is the annexation of Austria...now there are some who say it was a union (mostly by Nazi reports) others say it was a forced annexation. I don't know the circumstances and I don't want to get into it. I'm just assuming, judging by Hitler's goals, that their annexation wasn't necessarily full of roses and butterflies.