Hello my lovely readers, after this chapter I'll be incorporating more languages but since I'm only an (American) English speaker myself all the translations I'll be using I get from online.

I know, 'boo google translate!'

If you are fluent in another language and see a mistake in my grammar please pm me so I can fix it. I appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia nor any of the music. All rights to their respective owners.

Roderich-Thank You for the Music

The media flys were already buzzing outside the studio building. There broadcast cars parked around the front building and cameras flashing and zooming in everywhere. The Austrian inside didn't like it. He had meant for the studio to be a place of solitude, where he could escape from the hassles of everyday life and engross himself in music. Diament Studios was the local music studio branch to Diament Records and owned by musician and composer, Roderich Edelstein.

It was at Diament recording studio that the renounced musical prodigy sat beholding a empty auditorium. It's domed roof, with rows and rows of velvet covered seats, balconies that wrap around the entire auditorium, a polished stage framed by crimson curtains and a lower orchestra area. He sat atop the stage accompanied by a lone grand piano. No one was in the audience but still he played. He played for the sheer pleasure of it. It was when he played that he truly felt alive. Then the far door opened and his assistant walked in. The pianist finished his piece to a break before turning to address the other. Really, he know how much he hated being interrupted.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Sorry to disturb you sir, but the news anchors are here. They're wondering if you'll have time for an interview? Also two of your guests cars have just pulled in should I tell them you'll be awhile?"

"That won't be necessary. Tell the news crew I'll be with them as soon as possible and see my guests to the regular room. I'll be along shortly."

"Yes sir."

With that his assistant left and the musician was alone once more. Though he didn't feel lonely. How could he when he was in pure bliss. On stage with his piano and sheet music, what more could he need? However there were times, that' he'd never admit, in the late hours of the night or early before dawn when he did feel lonesome. What good was an empire if there was no one to share it with?

No, he wouldn't think of that, instead he'd just focus on his music. It never disappointed him. He set his sheet music of Mozart's 12th aside and instead stated to play by memory. It was a New Age music, something he didn't think he'd like. But in the end it was still just as luscious and heartfelt as his usual motif. His fingers swept across the keyboard and he began to sing.

"I'm nothing special, in fact I'm a bit of a bore

If I tell a joke, you've probably heard it before

But I have a talent, a wonderful thing

Cause everyone listens when I start to sing"

Having been a long standing member of the media aristocracy, he had grown up on a stage before regal audiences and adoring fans alike. Having performed in every venue from sold out performance at the Graz Opera house, the Grossess Festispielhas, and the music festival in Grafenegg.

"I'm so grateful and proud

All I want is to sing it out loud

Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing

Thanks for all the joy they're bringing"

To him performing wasn't just about putting on a show for the higher class or immersing in the culture for a day, it was connecting with others through music.

"Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty

What would life be?

Without a song or a dance what are we?"

He liked to think that music held a embedded power, a type of magic. It could touch the hearts of people from any race, religion, sexuality, or ethnicity. It was truly a universal language.

"So I say thank you for the music

For giving it to me"

No matter where you go in the world there is music, and it harnesses the essence of the people around.

"Mother says I was a dancer before I could walk

She says I began to sing long before I could talk"

He proved to be an abundant talent with not only a sultry voice but also capable of play several instruments majestically. His fame and wealth grew as his musical empire stretched and became an agency for talent.

"But I've often wondered, how did it all start?

Who found out that nothing can capture a heart

Like a melody can?"

You don't need to understand the words of a love song to hear its emotions. Or that of a slow song to feel it's solace. The young Austrian realized this, and reviled at the thought of sharing his gifts with the world.

"Well, whoever it was, I'm a fan

So I say

Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing

Thanks for all the joy they're bringing"

It was sad to recall how he'd once forgot this joy that music brought him. That there was a time when we was so caught up in his fame and building a legacy that he didn't have time to enjoy music. That was before someone reminded him, and gave him back that which was missing.

"Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty

What would life be?

Without a song or a dance what are we?

So I say thank you for the music

For giving it to me"

Outside a man in a tweed suit and tie climbed out of his car. He adjusted his collar and tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves. His impossible untidy hair refused to lay flat, defying the moose he used to plaster it to the point it looked wet and oily. He slicked back a loose strand before crossing the threshold of the main entrance. His shoes were polished, trousers pressed and clean, and he carried a thin leather briefcase. His face freshly shaven and a hint of cologne. Everything about him was posh and refined, except for a pair of extremely bushes eyebrows that practically launched from his forehead. Arthur Kirkland was an ambassador for UTV, the local media network that specializes in broadcasting international programs. Working alongside indie move studios and live broadcasting companies that otherwise wouldn't air. UTV's goal has always been to bring new and enticing things to the states and help these lesser known media into the light. Arthur had worked for the media network over fifteen years, and after establishing his name early in his career, had since risen in the ranks to be the respectable representative he was today. Granted his job offered copious perks, such as world travel and the opportunity to meet with various people in the social media community, but what Arthur was fond of the most was the simplicity of it. He would merely be assigned the client with whom the network wished to embark business, arrange to meet with them, discuss the potential aspects of future partnership and what benefits could be acquired, pitch to them the fundamentals and ground rule that would be instilled between the parent company, then negotiate the details. Really all he did was discuss and in some cases plan how the collaboration would work. He never had to actually part take in the manual labor or any of the messy work. No, he only representative what the network had to offer, pitch his sales bit, and shake hands while thanking the officials for their time. Today was a business meeting like any other over the specifications for a live broadcast hosted by a local record studio. The difference being that there was no pitch, just negotiating with the directors in charge, and that Arthur himself had history working with this particular client before. Over a year ago he had been assigned to meet with the studio owner himself to discuss an inside story on the establishment. The whole studio seemed to appear overnight. Here was this brand new record label, owned and operated by a seemingly young Austrian composer, who seemed to the newest sensation sweeping the region. In no time the lad was running his own musical empire and proving himself a orchestral prodigy. With such a awe inspiring story so close to home it's no wonder that the media network, whose primary goal was to display something new and diverse to its viewers, wouldn't jump at the bit. Arthur had arranged a sit down with the posh aristocratic young man where in deciding upon their first broadcast. This time however he was no stranger to luxurious studio or its vast space. He approached the front desk and stated his business with the secretary, receiving a badge and directions to the meeting floor number. He walked to the elevator shaft, stepping inside the box and glanced at his watch. He'd be right on time.

"Excusez-moi, hold that door!"

From down the hall another man appeared. He wore loose dress pants and an open white jacket to reveal a pastel colored shirt. His hair was just beyond shoulder length and there was stubble on his chin. His eyes where a pale blue with a mischievous twinkle and crows feet on either side. Even though he sounded rushed he walked with a relaxed air and proud stride. He spoke with an unmistakable French accent, this was none other than XYZ Radio's talk host Francis Bonnefoy. A flamboyant flirt who spoke on the air delivering the daily news, celebrity gossip, and occasional personal advise to XYZ listeners. The man was an idol adored by his fans on set. However off the mic he was a different person all together, Arthur knew this first hand and it still set a churning in his stomach. I wasn't his place to scrutinize what anyone did in their down time, so this he tried best to ignore. Really he'd distance himself from the other man as much as possible, but fate seemed to enjoy tormenting him in the persona of Francis Bonnefoy. Upon reaching the elevator he stepped inside and stood adjacent to Arthur. Since these two were already well aquatinted and had established a friendship of sorts one might think they'd greet each other merrily like old friends. Retrospectively, one would be wrong, rather than a friendly atmosphere the box was instantly filled with an almost hostile buzzing tension. Arthur felt it immediately and tried with all his will not to acknowledge it, keeping his gaze fixed on the metal doors. Pretending the other mans nonexistence. Francis being the even provoking fellow was not going to go unnoticed. The blonde cleared his throat and addressed the other acutely.

"Not even going to greet me with a gracious 'good morning' mon pettit?"

"Good morning." Arthur answered curtly without taking his eyes off the metal doors.

"You didn't even look at me. Really, now I thought you were a gentleman." he replied with a faux of disapproval. To which Arthur turned in place stiffly, jaw slacked, and eyes hardened to face the Frenchman. When he spoke, it was with an airiness.

"Good morning." he stated once again then turned back to the doors.

The pull of the elevator as it began its assent was minuet and accompanied by the soft chine as they passed other floors. The host let out a sigh, waving his arms and stepped from his side of the cube into Arthur's personal space. Close enough he felt the brush of fabric across his arm and breathed a wave of too familiar cologne. Right now he just needed to stay calm. As long as he didn't respond the other party would lose interest. Or so he thought.

Arthur felt the presence of the other man as he snaked his arm atop his shoulder and leaned in so that his breath tickled the rim of Arthur's ear.

"Perhaps a less formal greeting, say a kiss?"

"Shove it Frog!" The Englishman shrugged him off forcefully.

Of course he had to run into this man, of all people! Whatever, he wasn't going to let the other get the best of him this time. No sir, he was going to remain cool and collected, he was here on business after all. The Englishman adjusted his collar and continued to stare forward ignoring the other individual. Three floors chined and they were halfway there, he could make it.

"You seem particularly bristled today sourcil, having another morning hangover?"

His face scrunched up, bushy brows knitted together, and underneath green eyes where ignited with irritation.

Why was it taking so long to arrive at the correct floor?!

Finally the elevator chimed and the doors drew open, Arther lurched himself out to get away and welcoming any space between the other man and himself. He stalked down the hall to the designated meeting room and pulled past the doors. There was no one inside but a small table set for six and a small candy dish at the center. Arthur took a deep breath flattened it the wrinkles on his suit, slightly vexed by the absence of their host and even more infuriated that he would be spending even more time with that insufferable French frog. He scoured the room for and potential escape routes and or weapons as his accomplice entered behind him. He also made it a point to position his chair as far away from the other man as possible. He hoped that their Austrian partner would be along shortly, he didn't fancy spending anymore time with his French cohort in an enclosed room. After setting his briefcase on the table, Arthur began shuffling through the paperwork, lining everything in order and giving the materials in front of him his utmost attention. From his seat along side the Englishmen, Francis watched slightly slouched and his chin resting on intertwined hands.

"Ah, Arthur you're always so tense before closing a deal. You need to learn to relax mon amie."

"I will be relaxed as soon as this whole thing is over and I can be away from you." he spewed venomously.

"You don't really mean that."

The Frenchmen's voice dropped to a whisper, his voice husky and smooth. As he rose out of his seat and placed his hands on either of the others shoulders. He lent forward his nose just above the juncture of Arthur's neck, breath tickling against the skin.

"As I recall you tend to enjoy my company, in fact I say you're far more loose when we are together."

Arthur's skin pricked all over, the hairs on his neck stood on end, and he felt the heat rise in his face as a vane popped in his neck.

"Why don't you allow me to release some of the tension?"

This was not the time or the place for the Frenchmen's shenanigans and he had had quit enough. Arthur's briefcase was in his hand once more and plummeting towards the others vital regions. A pained moan rang throughout the room the same time as a knock at the door. Roderick pushed aside the door and saw Arthur clutching his briefcase in a tight fist as Francis limped away clutching at his upper thigh.

"Excuse the intrusion, I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" The musicians eyes narrowed behind wire glasses and his ever present scowl was plastered on his face.

Arthur set his briefcase back down and smoothed out the creases of his suit.

"Nice of you to finally join us."

"Well some of us have a studio to run as well as a record label to manage, not to mention a room full of press anxiously awaiting to interview-"

"Yes, yes that's enough, we haven't got all day!" The Englishman motioned towards one of the empty chairs exasperatedly. The brunette sighed crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

"I see the years have done nothing for you, your professional tact could still use some work."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I agree." Came Francis raspy voice. He sounded as though he'd had the wind knocked out of him. "Seriously sourcils do you treat all your partners so rudely?"

"I'm not being rude," the Englishman protests, "I'm just trying to get the meeting under control. Just because we're all well acquainted with one another does not allow for our business meeting to get run away with nostalgia or gossip like a bunch of midwives at a book club. I take precision in my work and I'll hold to it no matter who the business partners."

The blonde was once again seated, as he lent forward in his chair his eyes shone with that mischievous twinkle once more. "I wasn't referring to 'business' partners I meant under the shee-"

"Enough, can we kindly get back on subject please. For someone who preaches about precision you sure ramble off topic a lot. I have another meeting that I don't want to be late for."

"That's rich considering you were the one who was late to begin with." Arthur grumbled then turned his attention to the papers laid out.

"Right, we've been called here to discuss and finalize the details for this concert that is to take place. Naturally I wouldn't be so involved in such an event, but due to our good relations and my accepting your invitation to be a judge, I only see it fit to lend a hand in all the planning. Once again I thank you for having me and for your support with UTV."

The musician waved it off. "Not at all. After Diament's last interview with the press our name has became more popular with the general public. We sent out more talent scouts and were even approached by some musicians. We weren't able to take more than a few clientele on due to how small our studio was. Since then we've branched out farther and the success of our music has been appeasing."

"How is you latest contract?" The Frenchman inquired. "I hear his music was ranked first in popular charts recently?"

The brunet crinkled his nose and messaged the furrow between his brows. Closing his eyes behind his glasses as though indulged in a vexatious memory and spoke with a haughty tone.

"It's been one enormous stroke to his ego since. Honestly he's becoming quite insufferable. He was supposed to meet here, but a last minute stop was validated and his tour extended. He won't be back till the weekend preceding auditions."

Roderich released a heavy sigh and relaxed his posture once more. "As I was saying, since the last auditions were such a success, I decided to hold them again. This time using the media's influence to spread the word and draw in more candidates."

Francis drew himself up and massages his chin as though in deep consideration. "It was a strategic business ploy to collaborate with not only the local newspaper, media, and radio station. The more advertisement the better. But why, may I ask, the live concert. Surely the advertisement would be plenty to increase your sales quota, you are risking an awful lot on expenses for a single live production?"

"This isn't about just boosting sales, publicity, or finding musicians. It's to share music with the community. To uncover something new. It is Diaments' cause to discover the extraordinary in the mundane."

"Oui, the "diamond in the rough", he waved his hand impatiently, "I've read your plaque outside. But why the concert?"

Roderich was silent for a moment. His face stoic but from behind his glasses his eyes softened and his lips quirked into what could be the beginning of a small smile. His voice traveled like a whisper, lacking its normal bite.

"Something as wonderful as music should be shared. And it's not about just finding the studios next talent, it's about these artists finding themselves."

Francis released a sigh and shook his head. "I give up trying to understand anything you die-hards say. But you've asked for my services so how can I refuse? The ratings are sure to sky rocket with my loyal fan base tuning in."

Arthur narrowed his gaze. "This isn't another one of your talk shows for you go chattering nonstop. You'll just give a brief critique on the performers, that's it."

"It means so much to me that you listen to my shows." He ran a hand through his slightly wavy locks. "But fret not, I will keep my commentary short. Don't worry your greasy haired head. After all, I find you can say so much in only a few words."

"Moving on." Roderich turned to Arthur. "Speaking of media coverage, I presume camera crews will be congesting my recording studio and offices like last time?"

"Yes, they will require all access to the studio and grounds. However we will be limiting the number of crewmen and they will be given set hours to collect their footage. UTV realizes that this is a place of business and that you can't have camera crews bustling about all hours. We'll be sure to prevent another incident like last time." Both men's faces down cast at the end.

"I surely hope so." The brunette readjusted his glasses but his hand did little to conceal the blush that rose in his cheeks or the twitch of his brow at the memory.

"Also all the footage will be monitored by UTV broadcasting staff and before screening. We'll also holding rights to all documentation; including private interviews, rehearsal footage, as well as broadcasting the concert live. Of course the paperwork for the video release of the contesters is right here and will need to be filled out and processed before any of this can take effect."

"Will we be filmed as well?" The Frenchmen inquired.

"Yes, I'm afraid. But like I said they will be time frames for the reporters and cameramen to follow. The interviewers won't be able to show up at their leisure. And this is strictly on site filming, they're not to be showing up at contesters residence or film them out in public."

"Very good. Now I have something to ask of you in regards to the judging. Originally it was stated that there would just be judging the main concert, but due to the abundance of contesters that have already had contact with my assistant and the not doubt more that will flock in to the Radio Station, I'd like for the two of you to overlook the auditions as well?"

Arthur slammed both hands on the table. "Are you bloody mad!? Our contact states that we were simply to judge the final performance, not to help sift through all the participants!"

"I'm aware what the initial contract entails, I'm asking if you would kindly indulge us with your service once more."

Francis gave a shrug. "I will be at the Studio regardless, so I see no reason not to. It could be a chance to get a taste of what the real concert will be like."

"Like I don't have anything better to do than listen to every tone-deaf busker in the region?!"

"Oh, come now sourcil it won't be that bad. We can even stop for a drink after. How does that sound?" He rested his hand on his hip and peering across the table, seeking out the other.

Arthur gave a short groan of annoyance, "Very well. I'll take part in weaning through the auditions."

Francis flung his arms in exclamation, "Ç'est merveilleux! I will see you at the radio station for auditions. Au revoir!"

As the talk show host made his was out the door Arthur began to gather the papers and once more compile them into his briefcase.

"I'll be going too. I have to get these documents submitted and clear my schedule for the day of auditions. Pleasure doing business."

An light that he was out the door as well, leaving the Austrian alone once more. He readjusted his glasses and let out a sigh.

"I suppose I should go and see to my other guest? It really has gotten too rowdy around here." And with that he too exited down the hall to another room were reporters and cameramen patiently awaited when he opened the door.

"Mr. Edelstein we'd like to ask you a few questions."

End of chapter three.

Song was, Thank You for the Music by ABBA

Thanks for reading~