Hungary's P.O.V.
Arthur's voice is trembling on the other line. He seems distressed and anxious as he explains to me about Alfred's condition. I have to give the Brit some credit there. Alfred is as big of a turd as they make, and Arthur loves him to no end. I wish I had a brother like that, the closest thing being my husband Roderich. Don't get me wrong, I've grown fond of him but I do not truly love him. My heart yearns for Gilbert, the loud and snarky albino who has been pronounced dead for years. Ludwig has been a bit distraught on the matter, for the Prussian has been missing since 1814. Now, in the year 1860 I still have hope that we will meet again.
Roderich holds the door and lets me walk onto the carriage before him, giving me a light kiss on the cheek as I walk by him. I admit, the gentlemanliness he expresses is flattering. We take a seat in the carriage and converse of unimportant matters, like Mozart or the weather, as we always do. I would much rather be talking about war and battle strategies, but that's not what Roderich is interested in. It seems like Toris would be a better match for him, but Vash never exposes the poor girl to anyone other than himself and Francis (I have no idea why Francis is even aloud in Swiss territory in the first place).
My thoughts turn back to Gilbert, sifting through the memories we've shared together. I start to clench my fists in angst as I come to the realization that he may never return. The skillet I'm holding makes an imprint on my hand, because I was gripping my fists so tightly. This ride is taking too long. What happened to the good old days when I was young and free- not shut up in a stuffy old castle with nothing to do? Since Feliciano doesn't live with us anymore, it's very lonely when Roderich has to leave to take care of government affairs. I end up on the piano, writing Hungarian rhapsodies as I do best. Maybe it's not that bad after all. As long as I have my music, I'll never be lonely- oh dear, I'm turning into my husband.
We arrive at Arthur's, and what I see startles me. Alfred is yelling at the top of his lungs to some imaginary being "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! I'M A FREE COUNTRY! I'M ALFRED F. JONES! ALFRED FREAKING JONES! YOU HAVE NO RIGHTS BECAUSE IT'S ALL FEDERAL GOVERNMENT FOR NOW ON! AND IM FREEING THE SLAVES BECAUSE SORRY, THE SLAVE TRADE IS NOT COOL ANYMORE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO CALL ME THAT EITHER! THIS IS WAR YOU JERKFACE!" Alfred hollers in a fit of unbridled rage. Roderich nonchalantly walks into Iggy's kitchen. Typical Austrian behavior. He seems to act more like a sissy in moments like these. Arthur shouts at me to knock Alfred out with my skillet. I hesitate at this. Alfred's the second most annoying country I know, but I can't bear to hit him because of how feeble he looks. "Just do it Elizabeta!" Arthur says, anxiety bubbling in his emerald green eyes. I take the skillet and collide it with Alfred's head.
Arthur and I tie the now unconscious American to an old, wooden chair (I made sure it was NOT Busby's chair, though I believe Russia has already broke it to no return). We drag him into the forbidden west wing, where Arthur practices and helps me with a fairly recent hobby of mine- magic. Alfred moans and mutters, starting to come out of consciousness. Arthur briefly explains the spell he is about to perform. He plans to rip apart the contradicting personalities in order to see what has been troubling Alfred. I honestly don't care about what spell is used, as long as no one gets killed. Arthur starts to mutter a spell. "Release, release this troubled soul. Return, at once to days of old. Albino leave! Hear what I've said! Secede at once! Or you'll be dead!"
Albino? It can't be...
