So, this chapter is going to be a little confusing due to the weird use of pronouns. Since the chapter's mainly going to be from Austria's POV, he will refer to Italy as a girl(ignorant little bean he is). However, later on the POV will revert back to Ita and he'll refer to himself as a boy.
Clarified? Good! Now y'all can enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, it belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz and all other respective publishers.
Chapter 3: Artist in the Making(a continuation)
Austria frowned at Italy as she skipped gaily down the hall, humming an upbeat tune and clutching several crumpled pieces of paper to the front of her apron. It had become a usual sight for the household since Austria had permitted Italy drawing in her spare time. Not like he had been given much of a choice, it was very different to have willingly agreed to something and to have been threatened with a frying pan across his face.
He presumed that Italy was done with her morning chores, because she routinely made her way to the back of the house to watch(or sketch) Prussia and Hungary like usual.
Austria exhaled through his nose and shook his head. It was endearing to see the young country sketching happily on a bench by her lonesome, but Austria still had his doubts about allowing such lacking rules to govern the household. Since Holy Rome was still too little to enforce any rules of his own, the duty fell onto Austria shoulders.
It was already bad enough that he had to allow Hungary and Prussia's sparring together, and Italy spent more time than Austria would have liked in the backyard with them. It was, he thought, just a matter of time until the impressionable child was influenced by Prussia's antics. Who knew? He might even attempt to vandalize more than just a painting! Austria shuddered at the thought.
In reality, Austria hadn't seen any of Italy's drawings, other than the one that Hungary had shoved in his face. He had to admit, the child was pretty talented. But that still didn't change the fact that Italy could now use drawing as an excuse to skip her chores! Hungary obviously wouldn't mind, but Austria would have something to say about it.
Alas, the obedient redhead still hadn't committed any of the theoretical crimes(yet!), so Austria was forced to stash away his punishments for later.
Austria watched as Italy passed by the window opposite where he was standing, then was obscured by the wall. She would be back inside by sundown if she was drawing, maybe earlier otherwise. He turned away from the window and walked down the hallway.
The music room sat waiting for him just as it always did, and Austria smiled faintly as the familiarity of the room enveloped him when he pushed open the wooden door.
The grand piano, Austria's pride and joy, took up the space in the middle of the room and grabbed your attention as soon as you entered. The polished veneer glinted in the early afternoon sun, frequently dusted and cleaned by Austria himself. He took his place on the seat, and positioned his fingers over the keys of the piano.
Closing his eyes, he let his feelings run through his hands and into his fingers, and translated that into the notes that rang out and reverberated throughout the large, empty space. The tune was quick, and it had his nimble fingers flying over the piano keys in a blur. The hours passed, but Austria didn't notice. He was lost in a world of his own, one filled with flitting harmonies and flowing symphonies.
Austria only stopped when he realized he couldn't see a thing anymore. The sun had almost set and the room was bathed in a just a few golden rays shining in through the one window that took up most of the space on the wall. After the last note faded out, everything was silent. With every minute that passed, the room grew darker and darker until Austria could barely see the keys in front of him.
He sighed again, and got up to leave the room once it was almost pitch black.
As he neared the door, a faint breathing could be heard. The musician stopped suddenly, and listened. The breaths were long and deep, indicating that the person was asleep.
Austria furrowed his brow. The breathing seemed like it was coming from behind the door. But hadn't he shut it after he came in?
Indeed, the door was open a crack, just enough for someone to peek in while he was playing.
He chuckled quietly, and his frown was replaced with a small smile. He knew exactly who had been spying on him. Austria gently pushed the door open, and sure enough, little Italy was fast asleep with her head resting against the doorframe. Austria would have continued to smile if he hadn't noticed the sheet of parchment loosely held in Italy's right hand. The other was open, and a charcoal pencil lay a few centimeters away.
His charcoal pencil, Austria noticed, with a frown. He had wondered where that had gone.
Without warning, he snatched the piece of paper from Italy's hand. That along with his loud statement of, "What are you doing, Italy?" woke the slumbering nation up so suddenly she was sent sprawling against the wall behind her.
His angry expression and tone of voice so startled Italy that she was immediately put to tears. Austria had no doubt she had probably felt terrified and confused at the situation, just like any other child her age.
At the time, however, Austria didn't notice and was only focused on the drawing in his hand. He still had his eyes on Italy, who was trembling under his glare.
"Prussia put you up to this, didn't he? What did he tell you to do? Did he.."
Austria's eyes widened when they finally landed on the drawing and took it in properly. His voice faltered, his next words dying on his lips. The drawing was him, but it wasn't drawn in an unflattering way at all, unlike his earlier presumptions. He was seated at the piano, and Italy had translated his deep concentration perfectly onto the paper. His eyes were closed. The dying sunlight illuminated half of the whole figure, while the other was bathed in darkness. All of this was done simply with one of Austria's charcoal pencils.
It was so… realistic. It looked like he was looking at a painting done by a professional, not a drawing crafted by the small, delicate hands of Northern Italy!
The silence was filled only by Italy's small hiccups, those of which she was obviously trying to suppress.
"You… You did this?" Austria forced himself to say, still staring at the picture uncomprehendingly.
Italy hurriedly wiped her tears on the sleeve of her dress as soon as she was addressed.
"I-I'm s-so-sorry Mister A-Austria..!" She sniffled. Austria noticed as she hid her shaking hands under the white fabric of her apron.
"I j-just he-heard you playing and I th-thought you would l-like it if-f I drew y-you.."
…What?
She did it because she wanted him to have it?
"A-and I pro-romise I'll never dr-draw you a-again if it makes y-you mad.. I w-was going t-to gi-give it to y-you, but I can ju-just th-throw it into the f-fireplace if you w-want…!"
At the last sentence, Italy looked downcast. She ducked her head down so she was looking to the floor, but not before Austria saw her blink back a few more tears.
Austria's whole demeanor changed immediately as he heard the young country speak. His voice and expression softened, becoming gentler, as he looked back and forth between the drawing and the shaking child.
"You did this… for me?" He asked, voice a lot quieter than a few moments before.
Italy nodded mutely, wringing her hands nervously under her apron.
Austria fell quiet for a few seconds. He contemplated the detail in his clothes and head, and wondered how long Italy must have sat outside that door.
"Italy," he questioned abruptly. "How long did it take you to finish this?"
Italy was caught off-guard by the question. "Wh-what?"
"How long have you been sitting here?"
Italy thought about it, face scrunched up in concentration. "I.. I think…I w-walked past at around two… But I don't really know when I f-finished. I just k-know you were still playing, and I must have f-fallen asleep."
Austria nodded slowly. No wonder she had been so devastated when she herself had suggested scrapping the whole thing. And the fact that she would still have given it to him, even after he had established she was just his underling? After he'd taken her away from her family, and made her work as his servant?
"You don't mind if I… take it, do you?"
Italy looked up at him in surprise, dried tears tracks still prominent on her cheeks. "Yo-you want it?" She asked, voice laced with wonder.
Austria shrugged, suddenly embarrassed by how surprised she was at his enquiry. Had he really looked like he hated it that much? "W-well, it is a very talented piece of artwork, and you were going to give it to me, were you not….?" Austria trailed off, unconsciously tightening his grip on the thin sheet.
Italy ducked her head down again, although this time there was a small smile present on her face, and not the tears he had seen previously.
Austria huffed to clear away some of his embarrassment, before standing up from where he was crouched in front of the young country. Italy followed his example, knees shaking as she regained her balance after sitting for so long.
Even the hallway was darkening now, the lanterns having not been lit. Austria started down the corridor, Italy running to catch up with him.
Austria cleared his throat gruffly, eyes darting to look anywhere but at Italy, before saying, "You'd better get to the kitchen quickly and get a candle. So you can, you know."
Italy nodded vigorously, still struggling to match the taller adult's long strides. Austria watched her out of the corner of his eye. He inhaled deeply, an internal battle raging inside his mind. After what felt like an eternity of consideration, he finally put out his hand, palm facing outward behind him.
Italy glanced at him, another look of surprise gracing her delicate features. Austria ignored this, however, and kept gazing forward nonchalantly as if he wasn't dismissing his position as Italy's superior and inviting her to be more comfortable around him(which should not happen!).
She finally got the hint, and placed her small hand firmly in his larger one. Swiftly, Austria swept her up into his arms so he was carrying her, eliciting a small squeak of protest from the younger country.
Figuring the suspicious position begged an explanation, Austria hastily provided one. He still avoiding Italy's gaze. "Just so you know, I'm only carrying you because you're lagging too far behind. Also I don't want you getting hit in the face by a table in the dark. So don't get comfortable, alright?"
. . .
Needless to say, Hungary was very confused when she turned around to see the two of them entering the kitchen. Austria, upon realizing she was present, turned five various shades of red consecutively, set Italy firmly down, and walked briskly out of the room.
Italy had to jump in order to reach the brass handle of the door to Mr. Austria's office. It was that time of week again – he was required to dust and clean the room, just as Austria had ordered.
Upon his fifth jump he was finally able to grab the handle, and he pushed inwards. As usual, the whole office was pristine and spotless, except for Austria's desk. Scattered on top were thick piles of paperwork all varying in height, and even some papers on the floor. Since Italy was quite scared of messing up Mr. Austria's things, he always just moved the papers to one side of the large desk and organized the rest of the things neatly.
It was a struggle for Italy's small, weak body to budge the papers even a bit. He eventually managed it though, but only after standing on the mahogany desk and pushing with all his might.
He was panting from the exertion by the end of it. He turned and crouched by the edge of the desk, preparing to jump off, when one of his flailing arms knocked down one of the picture frames Austria kept on his desk.
Panicking, Italy rushed down to the floor to right the frame. Fortunately the glass was not broken, neither the wooden frame. Italy picked it up carefully.
Huh. That was weird. He had never seen that particular one around before. Maybe it was a new frame that Mr. Austria had recently gotten. But what would he need it for? He turned the frame around cautiously.
Italy immediately recognized the drawing settled comfortable behind the glass. The familiar pencil lines weaved cleverly together to form Austria's figure, seated at the piano and drowning in another one of his flowing pieces.
But he was surprised as well. Mr. Austria had actually kept it…. And not only that, on his desk as well! There were few things that the old killjoy found precious enough to bother framing and placing where he would always see it.
There was a faint ghost of a smile on Italy's lips when he replaced the frame to its original position. The door shut tightly behind him, accompanied by a tight click.
Italy was so internally happy he didn't notice that he hadn't dusted the bookshelves.
Fin.
So there you go! Some Austria-Italy bonding, because I don't think that their relationship would just be a hateful servant-master one. Italy is still too young to understand the concept of hate, anyway. Maybe Romano? I dunno, he's still a tsundere lmao.
Please R & R! If you want to request, PM me!
