Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia Axis Powers. Copyrights/credit goes to the series' creators/owners, not to me. :P It would probably be a little different if I owned it, haha.~

This fanfic is pretty sad little love triangle involving Austria, Hungary, and Prussia. This fic was inspired by a picture I found trolling zerochan. (PM me for the link if you're interested. It won't display right when I put it in here. x3)

Enjoy! Reviews are loved. ^o^

Finding Peace…

Whispering strains of a plaintive piano floated through the hallways and rooms of Austria's home. The brunette's hands flew across the keys with a touch as gentle as dove wings, tapping the pedals near his feet occasionally to deepen the pianissimo quarter notes. Wintry sunlight poured through the three giant, arched windows that overlooked the slate blue ocean. Salt and pepper storm clouds lurked against the horizon, bordering the clear azure expanse of sky overhead.

Austria's dark violet eyes remained glued to the piano keys as he played, not noticing his close friend Hungary leaning against the ornate door frame. The shadow of a smile played across her expression, her emerald eyes gazing at Austria, touching on his chocolate-brown hair that hung to his chin, his ahoge that always managed to stand skyward, his focused expression, the distinguished cobalt suit complete with an ivory cravat wrapped snugly around his neck. She loved to hear him play the piano: it reminded her of a time when she and Austria were united, bonded together… though she longed for him, she always doubted that he felt the same anymore.

Austria glanced up suddenly, the music fading into silence. He wore a warm expression as he spoke. "Why don't you come and sit next to me, Hungary? I know you really like piano music."

No… I really like your piano music, silly… "Thank you, Mr. Austria!" she chirped as she paced over, the full skirt of her viridian dress trailing across the hardwood floor.

A small smile upturned Austria's lips as Hungary perched beside him, laying the charcoal gray frying pan that she always carried around in her lap. His gaze shifted to the keys laid out before him, drumming out a fairly loud, lighthearted melody. The shifts from key to key, the slurs that bound a phrase of notes together, the leaps through octaves enveloped Hungary. Her mind recorded a shade of melody as she watched Austria play from the corner of her eye. She loved how his music softened him when he played, melting away the burden that ladened his shoulders.

The distinct sound of a door shutting echoed through the acoustic mansion: Hungary knew she should check to see who closed the door, yet she didn't want to leave Austria's side. Her eyes closed as she pretended not to hear the door, concentrating on the rich melody surrounding her. An image of a fragile pixie played through her mind as someone strode down the hall, following the dynamic music, their footfalls almost inaudible except for a quiet click every now and again against the oaken floor. Hungary opened her eyes, her gaze flitting to the crook of Austria's right arm. Her dainty fingers began to reach for it; her fingertips came within centimeters of finally touching Austria before a deafening roar of low keys destroyed the lighthearted and playful melody.

Austria jerked suddenly as a familiar "Yo!" greeted them, the fabric of his jacket fleetingly brushing against Hungary's outstretched fingers. "Why do you always dash my hopes of trying to accomplish something, Prussia?" Austria questioned, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

A silvery-haired young man leaned against the obsidian grand piano, lifting his hand from the four lowest-pitched keys on the piano. An amused grin spread devilishly across his face, his crimson optics eyeing Austria. "Ruining things is one of my specialties," he replied nonchalantly.

"And to what do I owe this visit?" Austria asked, pushing his framed glasses back into their rightful place on his nose.

"Can't I just drop in unexpected sometimes?" Prussia responded with a question. "Besides, I wanted to see the ever-pretty Hungary."

Austria sighed, slipping out from the piano. "In other words, you're looking to cause trouble."

"That would be a bonus," Prussia sneered. As Austria turned and strutted out of the room, Prussia slid into the vacated spot beside Hungary. He raised a finger to one of the ivories in front of him, plucking out some resemblance of Beethoven's famous Ode to Joy motif. He felt something cool and unyielding nip the back of his head; his eyes traipsed over to Hungary, who held her frying pan behind his periphery. "Why must you always make Mr. Austria so mad, Prussia?"

The apples of his cheeks reddened slightly as she uttered his name. "I'm no good at anything except pranks. Besides, that old man needs to lighten up. He always looks like he has something shoved up his ass, if you ask me." His scarlet gaze fell once again to the still piano keys he had stopped playing when Hungary spoke.

Hungary sighed as obvious pain seeped into her voice. "Mr. Austria has given you so much—he even gave you a safe place to stay when you needed it most. Has it ever crossed your mind how heavy the burden is that he constantly carries? You've done nothing for him but frustrate him and make a fool of yourself with your stupid tricks. You… you make me sick."

Prussia's eyes bulged in surprise, his sight snapping up to Hungary as she stood. Her head hung as she padded quickly out of the room, no doubt off to find Austria. He had never expected that Hungary was even capable of speaking so venomously. A turbulent wave of pain crashed against Prussia as an emotional tsunami enveloped him. Self-loathing punctuated his thoughts: why do I have to act so stupid in front of her all the time? I hate myself for caring so much… about a girl that completely hates me…

He shook his head to regain his composure as he slid the piano bench back, hopping to his feet and leaving the room. He pictured Hungary in his abyssal mind as memories of a pleasant time long since past flashed behind his eyes. He loved the way the serene spring breeze would tousle her mocha hair as she fetched water from a nearby stream; how her entire face would illuminate when she smiled on balmy summer nights, when Austria decided to play the violin on the lawn; how the hues of autumn would dance in her perfect chartreuse eyes; how her slender frame would tremble as icy snowflakes floated down from the heavens around her.

A sharp soprano squeal broke Prussia's reverie as someone smacked into him. His eyes flashed down to find Hungary amongst a heap of spilled music pages. He bent down and pulled the sheet music into a stack before standing, extending a hand to Hungary. His face grew hot as their eyes met: he recognized the vague puffiness that rimmed her glimmering eyes while she took his hand and was pulled to her feet—he knew she had been crying. "T-Thanks, Prussia," she muttered as he handed her the stack of music. "I-I'm sorry about earlier… I didn't mean to be so cold to you. I was just angry because—"

Prussia pressed a finger to her lips, automatically silencing her. He leaned in slowly, haunted by the tenuous scent of wildflowers mixed with spice as he whispered, "It doesn't matter. Look, I need to talk to you later. Could I meet you in the piano room tonight?"

Hungary's eyes widened in surprise. "Y-Yes, no problem. What time did you have in mind?"

"Nine," he muttered before jerking away from her hastily: he couldn't besmirch this moment.

"I-I'll meet you then," Hungary replied shakily before treading away, her face tinted rose.

A sigh of relief heaved in Prussia's chest. Thank God I didn't screw that up, he silently congratulated himself, a sly grin breaking across his face. He tore out of the mansion before he was struck with the urge to break something: he couldn't ruin tonight.