Alexandrovskaya Village, Grand Residence of Grand Duke Vasili III of Russia.
March 25th, 1519
"Are you really sure it's okay for me to wear this?" said Spain from behind the door. He sounded unsure, and he was sure not going to leave this room until he got positive feedback.
"Yes, of course. Now come out of there or I'll leave you." Russia warned. He had been standing beside the changing room assigned for Spain, one foot tapping against the floor impatiently. The ball had started and as a host country, Russia should've been standing beside his leader to greet the guests by now, not waiting for Spain to be ready.
"D-don't leave me here all by myself! This won't take long, I promise." The slight panic in the Spaniard's voice when Russia mentioned about leaving him made the blond nation smile, amused. The smile only became wider when he heard rattling and clatter of things (plus a manly kind of yelp of surprise) coming from inside of the room. He decided to knock. "Spain, are you okay in there?"
Russia heard shuffling behind the door before the door opened and two dressers came out. They bowed in apologize to their nation for the delay before excusing themselves. Thereafter the violet-eyed nation turned and took a look inside the room. What transpired before his eyes made him stand there in awe.
Spain was dressed in a fine outfit perfect for masquerade ball, patterned white kaftan with bands of gold brocade that hugged his frame perfectly, embroidered with silver cords, black cotton trousers and morocco boots with openwork metal fittings. The upper half of his face was covered with a mask, furnished with raised golden leaves swirls, gold braided edging and a small gold crown with a jewel positioned in the center. His hair was slicked back with one strand curled and left hanging down his temple. Spain's caramel skin made him look exotic. Overall, he appeared dashing and debonair.
And rather uncomfortable from being stared at so intently by Russia. He fidgeted, one hand reached up and rubbed the back of his own neck nervously. "S-so... what do you think?"
"You look-"
Great would be an understatement. Spain looked like he was crafted by God's hands himself. The mask gave him an aura of mysteriousness and elegance.
Mesmerizing could be considered a close definition to what Russia saw right now. Beating the urge of wanting to say that one word in fear of making the Spanish Empire felt more awkward he settled to say; "-like a mysterious, yet charming, Prince from a faraway land."
Spain let out a hearty laugh, all tension leaving him when he heard the exaggerated praise. "What's that supposed to mean." He took one last glance at the vanity mirror before hooking arms with Russia and heading for the ballroom at a quick pace. "Let's go, big guy. We have a party to attend~" The sudden act startled the younger nation, causing him to stumble and almost fall. But, before it could happen, he managed to catch himself. Along the way, Russia noticed a glance from Spain toward his outfit.
Russia wondered what Spain was thinking regarding his appearance. Just like his people, Russia liked brightly colored clothes. The first layer was a high neckline, long sleeved white tunic made out of silk, the edges of the sleeves and the collar was colored forest green and embroidered with pearls. Over the tunic was a coat – svita – brighter green in color with plant motifs tinted in creamy white. It was a beige colored mask seeded with tiny artificial diamonds. The mask was otherwise very simple and covered his face almost completely, with the exception of his nose, down to his chin. One pretty, violet feather was on the corner side of the mask, its tip was bobbing up and down lazily with each step he took. For once, Russia wasn't wearing any scarves.
Their pace slowed when they got closer to the grand mahogany doors. Two soldiers guarded on the right and left of the entrance to the ballroom. Those soldiers bowed respectfully, opening the doors to let their nation with his companion in.
The ballroom was filled with people wearing nice dresses and suits. Various masks with unique shapes covered their faces, making it difficult to identify who they were, leaving people with no choice but to label them as masked personas. Spain probably wouldn't have known anyway; the only people he knew in this place were Russia and Vasili. Classical music played in the air as a few couples danced together in the middle of the room. Some decided to watch or just chat.
Russia spotted Vasili the Third not too far away ahead. The man was not wearing his mask; instead he held it at his side. Likely he was weary of holding it up, for the mask had a rod instead of straps. Russia tapped Spain's back to gain his attention. "I need to talk with sir Vasili first. I will be back soon."
"Sure." Spain gave a nod, watching the platinum-haired nation weaved through the crowd until he was completely out of sight. Now, what should he do with his partner was gone?
He could see a long table on the east side of the ballroom, near the arched windows. A white tablecloth was draped over over the table and many delicious looking cakes, cookies, and bread were laid out on it.
He'd eaten dinner before coming to this party, but when he thought about it... stuffing his face with more food sounded better than standing awkwardly in wait for Russia's return like some lost child.
With that in mind, he proceeded to stride toward the table. Sitting down on an empty chair, he grabbed a small gateau and began to take tiny bites while looking around. The humans were enjoying the party. Smiles on their faces, occasionally he could hear some faint laughter too.
Oh, how he wanted to dance. Or at least have someone to talk to.
"You are a nation, aren't you?" He heard an unfamiliar voice so close to his right ear. He could even feel the hot breath near his earlobe. Spain jumped a little, looking over his shoulder to see who it was.
Spain eyed the stranger up and down. He was a man with strawberry blond hair, red eyes and a small fang on the left side of his mouth. He was wearing a small pearl-like earring on his left ear, a small top hat with two ribbons coming off of it, one red and another yellow. He wore a large, dark red trench coat and a mask that had a large, hooked nose. "And you are?"
"Oh! I forgot to introduce myself." The mask was removed and held in his left hand, while another extended toward Spain, offering the brunet a handshake. "I'm Wallachia."
Immediately, Spain placed the gateau on the plate then hauled himself up. "Spanish Empire. Pleased to meet you." A thin smile decorated his lips as he shook hands with Wallachia. He also untied the straps behind his head and took off his mask.
"Hoh~ so this is the one, huh."
"Ye- uh. What?" Spain was puzzled by the statement. "I don't understand."
"Russia talked a lot about you."
"What? Really?" Spain asked, chortling. "I hope he didn't talk bad about me!"
"Quite the contrary, actually. He mostly talked about how you were so nice and friendly and how he liked your company," Wallachia replied, turning to the side and began slicing a pink colored gateau. "I remember yesterday he said he wished he could lock you up in his room so you'd never leave. That was kind of creepy," the red-eyed nation added nonchalantly without a change in his tone or facial expression like he was used to Russia's odd ways of thinking. Wallachia put the gateau that he had sliced to a plate then started eating it with a spoon.
Spain coughed, covering his mouth with the back of his hand to hide the smile that began creeping up his lips. That might be creepy, but was kind of adorable of Russia, in a way. Not that he wanted to get locked up in Russia's room, though!
The two nations talked for quite a while until finally, another one decided to join in.
"I see you've met my friend Wallachia."
Spain could feel the hair on his neck rising. Somebody was standing behind him. "What the- Russia! Don't sneak up on me like that!" he said, turning around to look at the younger – yet slightly taller – nation.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Russia apologized, despite feeling nothing but amused.
Wallachia was carrying the plate as he went past the both of them. Suddenly he lauded aloud, "He's quite interesting, I'd say. You have good taste, Russia." He patted Russia's shoulder with one free hand before going on his way since he thought his presence wasn't needed there anymore. "I need to talk to my boss now, so see you around."
"Do you really have to say that out loud...?" Russia muttered under breath, cheeks tinted faint pink. The parting words didn't register in his mind since the former sentence was echoing inside his mind much louder.
Spain did not seem to notice, however, with him being such a dense man and all. The brunet chose to shrug it off and fill his plate with all kind of sweets instead, such as cupcakes, chocolates, et cetera.
"Hey, Russia."
"Hmm?" Spain's voice pulled him back to reality. Violet eyes shifted their gaze from the spot where Wallachia had had been to the brown-haired nation.
"Let's go outside."
Behind that mask, Russia's face contorted into a questioning stare. "May I ask why? Were you not enjoying the party?"
"I did not mean it like that, really! It's just..." Spain brought a plate filled with colorful gateaux in-between the two of them and sheepishly continued. "I need someplace peaceful to eat this?"
"Well... come with me." Russia turned heel and strode toward the closed oaken double doors with beautiful carvings of flowers on its surface. Spain followed suit, holding the plate high so as not to let it bump with some stranger and drop it.
Russia opened the door and it showed the balcony. Deserted and tranquil, it just what Spain needed. He stepped outside and perched on the railing with his feet dangling outward. Looking over the sky he uttered, "It's a full moon tonight."
The sound of music from the ballroom had gone down in volume the same time Russia closed the door. "Is that so?" the blond nation said as he walked closer, casting his gaze skyward while leaning against the railing.
"Uh-huh." Spain gave a nod. With one hand he messed up his brown hair to let it back like how it used to before the party, earning a bemused stare from Russia.
"I like it messy." He reasoned, giving the northern country a grin.
"I can see that."
Since Spain had taken off his mask, Russia wanted to too. He tried to tug off the strap behind his head but somehow the bound ended firmer than before. He tried to pull another strap yet the result was the same. He snorted.
Apparently the brunet had noticed Russia's struggle so he gestured the younger nation to come closer after putting down the plate to his lap. "Here, let me help."
Russia took a step closer to Spain, showing the back of his head while absentmindedly looking at the doors, letting Spain undo the knot. He secretly enjoyed the feeling of Spain's hands touching his hair.
"Some of your hair's tangled with the knot, this could take a moment..." Spain commented, eyes narrowed to see better in this place with so little light.
Shortly after that the mask was successfully untied, Spain made a pleased sound and went back enjoying his dessert, completely missing the drooping spirits emanated from Russia – who was already missing those hands in his hair.
"Would you like some?" He offered the plate full of pastries to Russia. The northern nation only shook head.
"No, thank you." Russia answered and put the mask in the inside pocket of his coat.
"Oh well, your loss. This stuff is delicious!"
Russia turned around. With forearms rested on the railing, he leered at the nation beside him. "I'm wondering why you chose to eat out here rather than dancing inside."
Spain swallowed the food in his mouth. "As much as I'd like to dance, I didn't see anyone without a partner." What a lame excuse, he thought. There were many wallflowers in the ballroom, only he did not have the will to ask any of them. He came here with Russia, he wanted to enjoy the party with Russia. The thought of spending it with someone else wasn't appealing to him.
Silence came upon them after he said that. Spain continued to munch on his dessert, while Russia was in deep silence.
"If..." Russia began. Spain paused and put down the piece of pastry to the plate, looking at the blonde and waiting for him to continue. Suddenly, Russia felt his mouth dry. Why was it so difficult to let out one simple question?
"If... if you still... would you..." He sputtered. The words did not make sense. And when he glanced up to see Spain's reaction, he saw the brunet had a simpering smile on his face. Cheeks reddening, Russia immediately looked elsewhere and avoided meeting his eyes with Spain's.
"I mean... us- well-"
He was making a fool of himself. Spain probably was thinking about how stupid he looked. He was probably going to laugh because Russia was acting like a blushing maiden.
"N-neverm–"
"Yes, I'd love to." Spain interrupted. He put the plate aside, turning around then hopping off of the balustrade.
What just happened?
Russia intelligently replied with a, "Huh?"
"I said, yes. I'd love to dance with you."
It took him a moment to process the words in his mind. When he understood, Russia felt his heart swell. He gave Spain his hand with a flourish, hiding the nervousness behind a warm smile and said, "Shall we?"
Spain's shimmering emerald green eyes glittered at him from a tanned face. He smiled back, showing a row of white teeth as he took the outstretched hand. "Let's just dance out here," he said.
The pair could still hear the music even out there. Though it was not as clear as it was inside the ballroom, it was nonetheless enough for the both of them.
Russia did not mind dancing outside, so he nodded. "As you wish."
The food was left forgotten. They moved closer until there was a foot distance between them. Russia put his right hand on Spain's left hip side as the right hand gently grabbed Spain's right hand and held it up shoulder-level. Spain seemed okay with taking the role of the girl, he was even gladly placed his left arm on Russia's shoulder. Purple and green eyes meaningfully looked into each other as they moved slowly in rhythm of the music.
Left, right, right, left, back and forward.
"You seem tense," Spain whispered, as if he was afraid to ruin the dance by speaking loudly, like he usually was.
Russia was indeed tense, but Spain didn't need to know that. Who did, when you were dancing with your source of infatuation? The younger nation took a deep breath, letting it all out slowly before showing his best smile "I'm not. See?" he said in the most confident voice he could muster.
Left, right.
A side of Spain's face was illuminated by the escaping yellowish light from the ballroom's windowpane. He giggled in mirth, shaking head. "Whatever you say, Russia-boy."
"Don't call me that. I may be younger than you, but I am no longer a boy," Russia affirmed. Although with that light tone and lower lip jutted out to a pout, Spain could not really take those words seriously. He was about to tease the younger nation once again, until Russia spoke again. "I am a grown up man. I've seen a lot of things children aren't supposed to see."
Right, left.
Russia seemed to have how his words were a double edged sword. His partner's eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise and another, unidentifiable emotion.
Fully unaware of Spain's state he dragged on. "Things like battles... conflicts..."
That earned a relieved sigh from Spain. Russia stopped, one eyebrow raised as his eyes met Spain's in silence, wordlessly asking why was he sighing.
The brunet shook his head. "It was... just... you know what? It doesn't matter. I thought you were talking about something else."
Back and forward.
"Such as...?"
"You know. Se-" Spain immediately cut his sentence with a gasp. He almost said that word out loud! "I mean, romance! Yeah, that. Haha!" he quickly added.
Russia mirrored the surprise expression Spain had had before. It was only for a moment before changing back into his usual smiley face. "Romantic? I can be that too, if that's what you want." Russia had read some romance stories in his free time out of boredom, so he had a bit of knowledge on how act like one. It couldn't be difficult, right?
Left, right.
"W-well, show me what you got, then." Spain couldn't believe the words that had stumbled out from his mouth, even now. It sounded like he wanted Russia to do that.
The distance between the pair were slowly thinning until it reached the point where they could feel each other's breath ghosting their faces. The brunet swallowed nervously.
Russia's hand that was on Spain's left hip side was snaking further around until it reached the other side, the same time Spain hesitantly looped his left arm, followed by the right, around Russia's neck.
Both found themselves could not take their eyes off of each other. Spain felt like he was lost in those purple pools.
Russia felt the same when he looked at that emerald green eyes in front of him.
Right, left.
Russia's gaze went down to Spain's soft, plump lips. He was so tempted to taste it. Being so close like this with the brunet, it made it difficult for him to have self-control. Without thinking, he leaned in.
Back and forward.
Spain began to close his eyes, bracing himself for what was about to come.