OK, I really love writing Hetalia fanfiction because I get to blabber on about how GORGEOUS Austria is! ~ :3
Seriously, for a laugh read Austria's lines while imagining him speaking in the accent he has in the dub! xD
Morning dawns, and I lie awake in my oversized bed. At least Austria is accommodating when it came to assuring that his guests have a good night's sleep. I am so fatigued from yesterday's physical labor, and as my body sinks into the swansdown mattress covered with silky linen sheets, my brain sinks similarly back into slumber.
"Wake up, Mister Dark Land! It is time for breakfast!"
Breakfast? Well, I am hungry. But it's probably cheap rolls and toast without any jam or fresh butter, so I can wait...
I scream as I am dragged out of bed and stomped on.
"We have a schedule, Mister Dark Land! Now go downstairs and eat your breakfast!"
Mister Austria serves me toast with jam - what a surprise - a walnut muffin (stale of course) and a cup of coffee.
"Mister Austria, is this espresso or drip coffee?"
"Espresso."
"Fresh ground?"
"This morning, using sixty beans, as always, just as Beethoven always had it."
"It is not decaffeinated, is it?"
"Heavens, no. You'll need the caffeine to accomplish the tasks I have planned for you today."
I am happy to hear that Mister Austria at least doesn't cut corners when it comes to coffee. He scolds me for adding more than two sugar cubes, though, and he only allows me enough cream to make it a macchiato.
"May I please finish the rest of the coffee pot? So it doesn't go to waste?"
"Yes, I will allow you this one indulgence, but only if you will work hard today."
"With pleasure, Mister Austria." I meant it; my heart was already buzzing, and I felt like I could do almost any mundane physical task and still have a stupidly fun time dancing around and singing "tra la la" while doing it.
After I guzzled down the remainder of the espresso, Mister Austria asked me to come up the stairs with him to dust his instruments. I giddily bounce up the staircase, stupidly eager to see what a fine collection I am sure that he has.
I dust off the piano that he had been playing Moonlight Sonata on yesterday, and then he shows me into another room that has yet a THIRD piano, among other various instruments.
"H-how many pianos do you have, Mister Austria?"
"I have fifteen pianos, five harpsichords, two clavichords, a pipe organ, fourteen violins, six violas, seven cellos, a string base, six harps, thirteen flutes, three piccolos, four clarinets, six oboes, three bassoons, and a glockenspiel. And those are just the instruments that used to belong to famous Austrian composers."
"You mean that Mozart actually touched these keys?" I tilt my head to see the shine on the keys, wondering if I could find Mozart's fingerprints.
"Actually, this one belonged to Joseph Haydn. It has never been touched. You can dust the top off, but the keys are off limits. Some of my instruments have not been touched since their famed owners passed away, and I would like to keep them that way."
I dust off the instruments that he uses, and simply blow the dust off of the sacred ones. Mister Austria watches me, his violet-blue eyes appearing black in this light.
"OK, I believe I am done now, Mister-"
When I am finished dusting the cello, I find that Mister Austria has left the room. I hear the Chopin tune that he is so fond of playing in the next room.
As I nervously creak the door open to watch, the music stops.
"Well, don't just stand there. Sit down and listen!"
Mister Austria must enjoy showing off. I sit very close behind him, right beneath his coattails. I gently take hold of the fabric and find that, upon closer inspection, Mister Austria's clothing is not quite as fine as it appears at a distance.
When the Nocturne is concluded I let go of the coattail and crawl back so that he does not become angered at me for invading his personal space.
"Mister Dark Land, yesterday you asked what your country gets out of being part of my empire. Today I shall show you. Your country works for me, and my country in exchange shares with you its culture."
Mister Austria raised himself off from the piano seat and patted it.
"For sure, Mister Austria?"
"Yes, you shall play."
I hop onto the seat and read the music sheet at a glance. My caffeine-fueled fingers bang out the melody as swiftly as Mister Austria's, but Mister Austria is shaking his head disapprovingly, and, remembering how his performance sounded compared to mine, I know exactly why.
"Mister Dark Land, you are physically incapable of playing this piece the way it is meant to be played. Having only four fingers per hand, you are utterly useless as a classical pianist."
"Suppose you were to come across a race that was accustomed to playing keyboard instruments with SIX fingers," I respond. "They might consider YOU to be utterly useless as a classical pianist for having only FIVE fingers.
"I shall now express my utter anger and disgust with you through the piano," I add.
"Interesting, so your anger is expressed through Chopin too," Mister Austria muses.
"No, I shall play a piece that I composed on my own."
I pound my fingers over the keys feverishly, knowing what a difficult piece this is for me to play, being small and having too few fingers, as Mister Austria had pointed out. The caffeine definitely came in handy for helping me to swing my arms back and forth across the keyboard, but it made it difficult for me to play it at the slow tempo that I must in order to be able to reach those keys in time to play the right notes at the right time.
I end the performance with a thunderous chord, my entire body and especially my fingers twitching during the seconds between notes.
I had done it. FLAWLESSLY. I turn around to face Mister Austria, wide-eyed as though from madness, a twisted smile on my face.
Clearly, Mister Austria was stunned.
"N-not bad, all things considered."
"I believe that 'not bad' is rather modest praise, all things considered. What have YOU composed lately?"
"Sit down and listen. I shall perform a piece of my own design. And be QUIET!"
Mister Austria begins with a moving violin solo, and then he sits down to the piano and begins playing a melody that is simple and catchy enough to be a childrens' nursery song, but nonetheless magnificent and uplifting to the spirits. A few bars into the song, he begins singing, in a rich, lovely, perfectly-pitched voice that is so different from his usual harsh scolding tone:
"Draw a circle, that's the earth,
Draw a circle, that's the earth
Draw a circle, that's the earth
My name is Austria.
Draw a circle, that's the earth,
Gaze intently, it's the earth,
Could that circle be the earth?
My name is Austria.
Aah, the world around us
Can be seen with the stroke of a single brush
I'm passionate about splendid music and art
I love them!"
"In Vienna, from many musicians, many famous pieces of music were born," he says, pausing from the singing. "I shall now perform solely on the piano."
His fingers flutter flawlessly over the keys as he pauses for a piano instrumental, before singing again.
"The heart of one is warmed upon
Listening to sweet harmony
Even if my vital regions are occupied"
Mister Austria pauses from the singing to speak again.
"If I cannot bring my orchestra along, my heart will feel troubled."
Mister Austria spends a few bars rambling on about cakes and coffees at his cafe konditories, causing me to salivate, even as he turns to preaching against the hazards of overeating.
The melody takes on a frightful, thunderous mood, causing my heart to palpitate, until the melody settles back to a mellow mood, and then it changes to a heroic, triumphant mood, and then calms again when Mister Austria begins to sing again:
"All the countries of this earth
Playing music of the world
And a major part of that
Is Austria, of course!
Aah, the world around us
Can be seen with the stroke of a single brush
The balls continue to the break of dawn
The walzer of love!
Aah, throughout this great world
There are recipes of happiness that sleep
Let's gather everyone and music we shall play!
Hetalia!"
When the tune is completely wrapped up, I jump off the floor to give him a standing ovation.
"Bravo! Brilliant, simply brilliant! Encore, if you please! I am... humbled" I am not as loath to admit that as I thought I would have been...
"Well, of course, but it would sound so much better if I could get somebody to play flute and violin in the background. You are competent in both instruments, yes?"
"Of course."
"Well then, you shall practice... later. But right now you have hallways to sweep and a table to set up for dinner.
"Yes, Mister Austria."
My pent-up caffeine energy bursts out as I begin to sweep the hallway that is adorned with so many beautiful portraits, some of them from world-renowned artists, quite a few of them being portraits of Mister Austria himself. One of them had a moustache, which mystified me; the moustache does not suit him.
I find myself humming and singing to the tune as I sweep to its rhythm.
"Draw a circle, that's the earth,
Draw a circle, that's the earth..."