Special thanks to LunaBloom for betaing this chapter!
Alexandrovskaya Village, Grand Residence of Grand Duke Vasili III of Russia.
March 22th, 1519
Unimpeded, morning sunlight permeated the room through the open curtain and shone directly toward his face. Spain squinted his eyes and rolled over onto his stomach, face buried down in the pillow, trying to avoid the blinding light. He had no desire to leave the bed anytime soon; it was too comfortable here. He was still feeling tired after a long trip through seas to visit this land, then staying up late at night talking to Russia. Then...
Then what?
Spain sprang up awake, blinking away the sleep from bleary eyes. He looked around, apparently he was back in his room. Not the room back at home, but the one Russia had prepared for him. He could not quite recollect how he ended up here, even after racking his brain to remember last night's event.
The last thing he remembered, he was talking with Russia in the flower field. He did not remember ever walking back to his room.
Did it mean Russia carried him here?
If he did... how did he carry him?
Slinging Spain over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes? Dragging him by his collar? Piggyback ride? Or maybe...
Bridal style?
Russia brought Spain closer to his chest, while Spain wrapped an arm around the other's neck, breathing in his nice, sweet musky smell with a hint of earthy rawness, feeling his warmth, hearing his heartbeat...
"¡Oh Dios mío! What am I thinking?!" Spain shouted suddenly, face slightly red. He slammed his head on the pillow and went motionless. He needed some time to clear his head of the inappropriate fantasy of him and Russia that came to mind.
Maybe a bit of fresh air would help.
Some time later, after he had calmed down a little, Spain left his bed and walked towards the double door that led to the balcony. With one push, he opened the door and went sitting on the marble balustrade. He felt the soft wind caressing his skin as he looked down on the servants below doing their duties, mindlessly swinging his legs all the while. A gardener tending the flowers, some maids hurriedly running off to who-knew-where carrying broomsticks, a butler passed by with a tray on his hand that contained two cups and a kettle, plus a few slices of black bread, probably for the Duke and his wife for breakfast.
He heard a knocking on the bedroom's door. Spain cocked his head to the side, looking at the direction where he heard the noise. "Who is it?"
"It is Russia. May I come in?" the voice outside responded. Hearing it was Russia, Spain's heart raced a little, remembering his fantasies. He swallowed, trying to regain his composure and to forget about the crazy images he had formed in mind.
"Y-yes! The door's unlocked."
The said door was opened, and a figure stepped inside. Russia looked around, searching for Spain. Finding the other nation outside on the balcony, he walked toward the aforementioned place.
The two nations exchanged smiles and greetings when they saw each other. Russia's amethyst eyes scrutinized Spain's disheveled appearance from top to bottom. Rumpled clothes, tousled hair, and droopy eyes showed that the older nation had just woken up from his slumber.
"I bet you just woke up, no?" An amused smile played on his lips when he saw Spain quickly sprucing up his appearance and wiping his face.
"Pssh. I know it's late to wake up around this time. But I was so tired last night."
"I was aware. You did not even twitch when I moved you."
Ack. He knew it. Laughing sheepishly, Spain ran a hand through his brown hair. "I must be heavy, huh?"
"Not really," Russia said. "I wouldn't say heavy, but you weren't light. It was tolerable. Besides, it was funny to see you smiling while speaking about tomatoes in your sleep."
"What. Did I really do that...?"
"Yes, you did."
"Oh my," Spain facepalmed, shaking his head. "How embarrassing."
"Don't be. You looked adorable actually. Like a little kid." Russia joked, trying to cover his chortle behind his scarf but failed miserably. Spain playfully smacked the other nation's shoulder the time he saw it. "Shut it, ya' punk. I'm older than you."
"But it was amusing. You should've seen your face." Finally, Russia openly chuckled, before gradually stopping and turning heel to walk out the door. "Come, I've had the servants preparing breakfast for you," he invited before he left.
"Ah, wait. Let me just have a quick wash up to get ready." Spain said, getting off from the balustrade and heading towards the bathroom.
"I will wait for you outside."
"Okay. It won't be long."
Sorry to keep you waiting."
The Mediterranean nation emerged out from the room, wearing new clothes and looked nice and clean. He wore a green tunic that matched his eyes, with split neckline that was trimmed with contrasting, darker color that also matched the filigree embroidery on the front. The tunic had a slight A-line waist, for a comfortable fit. Long dark brown trousers and lighter brown leather shoes. Simple style of clothing nonetheless looked good on him; Russia inwardly admitted.
"It is all right. Let's just go now."
They arrived in the dining room after a few minutes. Again, they were sitting so far away from one another. Spain let out a soundless sigh. Another awkward break bread, it was.
Or was it?
He witnessed Russia call on a maid that was standing behind him just a few feet away. A hand gestured in Spain's direction while he continued speaking in his native tongue. The maid glanced at the way her nation was pointing and curtly nodded. Spain wondered what they were talking about.
"You know, you're sitting too far away. How about you move closer here so we can talk?" Russia asked, smiling.
The maid approached Spain's side of the table and began putting his plates and cup and other cutleries on the tray in her hand.
So that's what they were talking about. Spain gave Russia a nod, standing up from his seat and moved to an empty chair on Russia's side. Subsequently, the maid placed all of his foods in front of him. He thanked her and began to dig in. Russia did the same.
"So," the Slavic nation began as he dipped the spoon in the red soup. "The weather's nice today, don't you think?"
"Mhmm." Spain swallowed his food. "A perfect time for sailing."
Russia halted his movement and settled to look at the older nation. "...You're planning to go back now?"
"Well, yeah. I've delivered the letter safely, so I have no reason to stay much longer." The brunet shrugged. In any case, he had promised his ship's crew that he would go back as soon as possible. Even if he wanted to spend just a little bit more time with Russia here, he had things to take care of back in his place.
"Sir Vasili's birthday is on the twenty-fifth."
That caught Spain off guard. He looked up from his soup towards Russia. Green eyes locked on the purple ones in wonderment. "Huh?"
"This month on the twenty-fifth, Sir Vasili is turning forty years old. A ball will be held here in this Palace. Some nations will be invited. And since you are here already..."
"Oh, I get it." Spain finally put the pieces together. Three days from now there would be a ball. Russia wanted to invite him to attend the party. It meant he would be staying here three days more. But what about his crewmen? They probably had been waiting for his return.
And even if he were to stay here, he didn't have appropriate clothes for the ball. He only brought two pairs of clothes here because he had thought it wouldn't take this long visiting Alexandrovskaya village.
"I'd love to stay, but I only have this to wear and the clothes I wore yesterday..." Spain laughed sheepishly.
"If it is clothes that you're worrying about, I can have the tailor make some for you."
"But I couldn't possibly accept such ki–"
"Nyet. I insist," Russia said, eyes gleaming with conviction and unwavering determination.
A staring contest between the two nations ensued, though it lasted only a few minutes. Spain narrowed his eyes, trying to look intimidating. Sadly, it didn't do much to Russia. He looked unfazed, much to the older nation's frustration.
Spain scoffed with mock annoyance, though his lips formed a crescent smile. "There's no way to talk you out of this, is there?"
"Da." The platinum-haired nation gleefully replied, nodding.
"Fine then," Spain finally gave in. He leaned his back against the backrest. "But I need to notify my crew back in the ship."
"I will prepare the parchments and ink for you. After you're measured."
"Right, right." The older nation nodded.