Austria brushed Elizaveta off with a few mechanically polite words, and went through the glass doors just as Russia arrived at the top of the staircase.
His eyes that bore the color of kings held their symbol's rage, cold and aflame at the same time. He walked down the stairs, heading straight for the door, calmly ignoring the nation that was looking bewilderedly at him.
"Russia? What's going on?" Hungary had not heeded any of Austria's words-- she knew when the nation was lying; she'd been married to him after all.
But never before had she seen him in such a state, not even when Holy Roman Empire died, or when Prussia fought him for Venice alongside the Italy twins. It terrified her, but at the same time she was worried for him.
"Nothing you should concern yourself with, da."
Russia's answer sent a shiver down her spine, and left her standing there long after he'd gone.
.~*~.~*~.~*~.
The crisp afternoon air was doing wonders for Austria's mind, but not for his heart, which was all of a sudden drowning him in emotions he could neither name nor place.
Some of them were more evident, like guilt and regret, but if he was feeling guilty about what he'd said to Prussia, or if he was regretting not asking more, he didn't know.
He could scarcely mind where he was, or where he intended to be, but his feet seemed bent on taking him somewhere secluded, a place where he could sort himself out.
For one thing, he knew he had to apologize.
To Bieldschmidt, to Ludwig, and, yes, even to Russia. War between their governments and their peoples was one thing, but to strike a nation without any rational precedent was something Austria never thought he'd be doing.
Even though he'd sincerely believed that he needed to be shut up, especially since he was talking to Bieldschmidt, not him. A stubborn part of Austria's mind pressed that he wasn't talking to Prussia, he was all-out yelling at him. And he wasn't even making sense when he did it!
Shaking his head, he moved on to the next thought he could fish out of the clear pool of his mind, preferably one that didn't directly involve the feelings gnawing at his conscience.
It seemed this mental ultimatum didn't help, as he recalled the questions he'd asked of the Prussian.
"Do you miss them? Do you miss Frederick, your King? Do you want to be with them? Is that what you dream of?"
Never, in all the years they'd spent running through the forest, chasing after the 'dead' nation, had they actually asked Gilbert what he dreamt of. They weren't even sure if he could remember those dreams. Ludwig had never heard his brother speak of such things, save for the occasional bad or good sleep which resulted from the outcome of their adventures with the demon-bird the past night.
But the questions he'd asked-- they'd been on his mind since he was lucid enough to recognize the face from the doorway. He couldn't sleep, but he didn't feel tired when he got up to attend the meeting. It was as if something was feeding the thoughts into his mind--
"What fun, what fun!"
Austria's eyes widened.
"You fight well for a coward..."
Impossible...
(What took you so long, Roddie?)
The voice wasn't just an echo, it was real.
.~*~.~*~.~*~.
The late afternoon sunlight played with the contours of Russia's face, which were set in a grim study as he kept his eyes fastened on the path he was sure Austria had taken.
He knew he couldn't let this get out of hand, and that he was better off preparing for the night to come, but Austria's actions in the meeting room had pushed him over the edge of brittle calm that he'd been hovering over ever since Ludwig came in with the little one, who'd never looked any more vulnerable and out of sorts.
He'd never wanted to see him like that ever again.
"Dammit, get away from me! Let go of me, you bastard!"
"No... no... don't take him away from me, please, not my little brother-- Holy Roman Empire..."
"West! Get away from there! West! Run, dammit!"
"...they're the only ones I've got, you know?"
Russia's eyes darkened at the memories, and he resolved to have a 'little chat' with the other nation, which he would finish before the sun set over the horizon.
After all, he was doing this for a reason.
Little one...
.
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caesura
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Author's Notes: Briefly, I apologize for the delay. I don't have stable internet connections, and net cafe's are too expensive during the summer. I most likely won't be able to update until the latter weeks of May, by which time you will be assaulted by the chapters-- our computer can exist without internet, and so can I. To the lady whom I dedicated this story to, my deepest apologies. To all those who reviewed, my thanks.