This chapter is currently sitting in my Doc Manager under the title of 'The War to End All Wars 2'. That made me laugh.

Anyway, it's a good title because that's what it is. Part two. Enjoy!

Standing beside Austria's piano bench with Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata dancing slowly through her ears, it would've been easy for Hungary to believe that the world was at peace. That everything was alright and everything that wasn't would sort itself out. But that would be a lie, and Hungary always made a point of not lying to herself. Their Archduke had been assassinated only days ago and something had to be done about it. Austria had been reluctant to face the issue; he'd been shut up down here with his piano for most of the time they'd been home and he changed the subject whenever she tried to bring it up. But today, as soon as he finished his sonata, they were going to discuss the matter.

All too quickly, the last notes faded away. Hungary listened to them go, eyes closed, then plonked herself down next to Austria on the bench.

"That was beautiful, darling," she told him. He didn't look at her; his eyes were fixed on the piano. He knew what was coming. "But what are we going to do about Serbia?"

"I really should practise Claire de Lune," he said, making a grab for his music book. "I've been a bit rusty on it lately and I-"

"Austria! You promised!"

He sighed and dropped the book. "Fine. But I don't see why this is such a big issue. You remember that letter Serbia sent us."

She did. It had been a great long document full of apologies, swearing that he and his government had had nothing to do with the assassination and it was all the fault of a secret military organisation called the Black Hand. He begged them to understand this and not to blame him for the murder of their Archduke.

"Do you believe it?" she asked him.

"I think I do. I mean, why would Serbia even do that? He knows we're stronger than him and assassinating our heir apparent doesn't accomplish anything. I might be less inclined to listen if he'd, I don't know, blown up the palace, but this was just an act of terrorism. Nothing more."

"That makes sense," she said. "But what if he just didn't like the fact that we can tell him what to do these days? Maybe he was just trying to make a statement. He never has been the best at thinking things through."

He considered this for a moment. "I suppose that's possible. What do you think we should do?"

She bit her lip and hesitated, then said, "I think we should declare war."

"What?" Austria stared at her in horror. "War? Really? Over something like this?"

"They assassinated our Archduke, Austria! I know he was no Maria Theresa, but he was a perfectly good man! And the Duchess was completely innocent. And besides, it's the principle of the thing. Whether it was his fault or not, something has to be done or everyone'll start thinking it's okay to kill off our royal family!"

"I know, dear, but war? Isn't that a bit extreme?" His fingers danced subconsciously over the keyboard in front of them and she just knew he was thinking about how much he'd miss it if war broke out. But there were more important things than war. She liked the piano too, but she liked their country and empire more.

"That's what my prime minister said. But sometimes extremes are necessary. All the Balkans have been unstable lately; yeah, they do what we say, but they don't want to. How long until they start rebelling? How long until they start gunning down our diplomats?"

Austria sighed and took his hands off the keyboard. "There must be better ways to make an example than going to war."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, propaganda? We could relax some of the laws, maybe."

"And give them even more room to riot? Come on, Austria. Think about it. Serbia's not even that strong; we'll knock him over in weeks - minimal casualties - and everyone will realise they can't mess with us. It'll make things more peaceful in the long run!"

"Not necessarily," he pointed out. "Serbia's been hanging around Russia lately, hasn't he? They're pretty close. The only reason Russia didn't support him in that crisis a few years ago was because his army wasn't ready. If we declare war on Serbia there's a chance Russia might declare war on us. We may be strong, but we can't take both of them at once."

"Good point," she said, chewing her lip in thought. "But we aren't alone either, are we? Germany promised to help us in situations like this. We could take Russia with him on our side."

"That's true," admitted Austria.

"And Russia probably won't get involved anyway. He backed down before; what's to say he won't do it again? If we're quick, we might even be able to knock Serbia out before he has a chance to mobilise."

"Yes, but-"

"And then our monarchy will be safe, our empire will be secure and we'll have even more control over the Balkans! What more do you want?"

"Fine!" Austria threw his hands in the air in surrender. "How's this for a compromise? We send Serbia an ultimatum. He has to arrest everyone involved in the assassination plot, get rid of all propaganda and publications that say bad things about us and let our police take part in the assassins' trial. If he complies, we let this whole incident go and forget it ever happened. If not-" he winced, "-we declare war."

"That," said Hungary, "is an excellent idea." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, then drew back and smiled. Austria's ultimatum was perfect; they'd achieve their aims whether Serbia complied or not. She had a good feeling about it. "I'll go and tell the government to start writing it. You call Germany and tell him we're coming over, okay?"

"Okay," said Austria. He let go of her and she stood up, leaving the room in a tulip-scented swish of skirts and hair. He sighed again, stood up and headed over to the telephone. He picked up the receiver and dialled Germany's number.

Ring... Ring... Ring... "Hello?"

"Germany. It's Austria. We need your help."

"My help? What have you gotten yourself into now?"

"Nothing yet, but I think we might. I"m just asking for pre-emptive support."

"Why?"

"It's kind of a long story. Basically, we might be declaring war on Serbia."

"Serbia? Why?"

"He killed our Archduke! We're making an example in the Balkans. Don't worry, we'll knock him over in weeks. We probably won't even need you."

"So why are you calling me?"

"Well..." Austria hesitated. "Serbia's been friendly with Russia lately. If we attack him, we're worried Russia might get himself involved."

"Russia? You want me to fight Russia? He has the biggest army in the world, Austria!"

"Your leaders have been itching for war, haven't they? I'm sure they'll latch right onto the idea. And we have an agreement, remember? You have to help us."

Germany sighed audibly down the phone. "You're right, of course. I'll go and tell them now. I hope you know what you're getting us into."

"Of course I do. Hungary and I have discussed it. We're sending him an ultimatum; if he agrees to our terms, nothing happens. If not, we have a quick war that probably won't even involve Russia. We just need to know you're behind us, just in case."

"Okay, fine. I'm behind you."

There was a click on the other end of the line as Germany hung up. Austria put down the receiver and stared around the room, at a loss for what to do. It was a nice room; there were paintings hanging on the walls, expensive rugs and couches with velvet cushions. He and Hungary had done well for themselves since their unification. But the paintings were gifts from Bosnia and Herzegovina, the rug had been taken from Croatia's house and the cushions had been commandeered from the Czech Republic and Slovakia. But, he had to admit, they hadn't done nearly as nice a job with them as he had. Hungary had been all in favour of sitting on them, but he had vetoed that idea and placed them in strategic locations that set off the curtains and the rug in a way that was immensely pleasing to the eye.

He had always been proud of his cushions. But now, they seemed pointless somehow. He looked at them with wistfulness instead of pride, like he knew he wouldn't be able to enjoy them for much longer. But that was ridiculous, of course.

Shaking these ominous thoughts from his head, he sat down at his grand piano and began to play.

He might as well make the most of it while he still could.