So, I'm hyped up by the fact that at least some people seem to like this especially great thanks for Yana25 from dA- if it wouldn't be for her, I wouldn't have taken liking of this rare pairing.

Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia, I wouldn't write fanfics- I'd be the manager of England as a rock star, and I'd make all the nation-tans to make a karaoke-singing competition… *daydreams* Oh… too bad I couldn't decide who would win… Most of the seiyuu's have so great singing voices! (The only exception is America, but if you listen to a selection of the voice actor's other songs, he can sing really well, it's just that they thought Alfred would be to hyper to calm down and sing well, I guess.)

2

She stretched her arms, stifled a big yawn and rubbed her eyes before sitting down on her bed in a relatively cheap hotel room in London, quite close to the address they were given as the meeting's place. Really, Lady Fortune did favor Hungary that day: she thought the ticket she forgot about (out of sight, out of mind, as they say), and even found a decent room in such a short notice. By decent, she meant that it had all she needed: a wardrobe, a bed-end table, a comfortable bed, a TV, internet-connection (although she forgot her laptop at home, so she couldn't use that, she remembered) and a separate bathroom; it was neat and homely, and it even had a good view on the nearby park.

Elizaveta was glad she came so early. It was good to know that the rest of them will arrive only tomorrow at dawn (now, according to the alarm clock that belonged to the little room, it was about 8 pm), at the time she usually did as well when they had a European or UN-Meeting in London. Now that she had a place to sleep at, she felt calmer, and even the tiredness (induced by the fact she slept during the whole flight) began to wear out. She stood up and went to the bathroom to take a shower (she figured it would help her waking up… though she heard that a good hot shower was better for insomnia), and about fifteen minutes later, she returned to her bedside and unpacked suitcase. Pondering about what to do next, she decided she'd dress up and go for a night walk, even if it was getting late. Some nation she would be if a couple of harassing, drunk people would stop her from doing as she wanted…! She could take care of herself just fine, thank you very much.

So, she told the receptionist she'd be back in a few minutes, and departed. How long has it been since she could afford herself leisurely strolling on the streets of London for the last time? It must've been between the two world wars… Her lips curled into a sad and nostalgic smile as she walked towards the Thames: this was one of the few cities (apart from her own land) that she grew really fond of. She liked the life and culture of Paris, as well, she could never forget Tuscany, Venice and the renaissance, and Vienna felt almost like home (no wonder: Roderich's and her capitals were built in much the same style), but London had a special air to it. In the nineteenth century, she remembered how eagerly she watched every progress: the railway, the horse races, the steamboats, everything. If Paris was a store of culture, style and artistic ideas, London was full of economical and technological wonders: it showed how hard organizing a worldwide empire was, and it truly contained everything life itself had.

The empire, of course, is long gone, along with its power and influence. Still, for her at least, the city has lost nothing of its values, no matter how very it changed. The Docklands, for example, used to be one of the most dangerous and poorest parts of London, and look at it now: it's became a business district. The thick fog so many writers have mentioned lives perhaps only in England's memories. More and more restaurants are opened from all over the world: Italian, Chinese, Indian, Mexican… some even specialize in the usual menu of the secondary grammar school cantine's meals! And, of course, she had a restaurant as well, and not any: The Gay Hussar.
All right, when she first heard the name, she broke down laughing as well (causing England to turn as red as a tomato or one of his roses). But that's not the point. It was a well-renowned restaurant, now mostly visited by the intelligentsia, authors, poets, and so on- which gave her a feeling akin to that of a café in Budapest back in the 1910-30'ies. She really enjoyed popping in, for instance, New York Café at weekends (when her work allowed her to), listening to his famous artists and watching them from behind a newspaper and a good espresso or tea.
I remember France was really keen on keeping his eyes on his artists and going out with them around fin de siècle as well… -Hungary thought, though she immediately had to shook her head in order to prevent imagining what exactly France was doing in, for instance, Moulin Rouge… Some things are not meant to be seen even in one's mind's eye. She had to admit it, though: this air of Paris was attracting and contagious- for some, even addicting; that's why Paris was on her list of favorite cities along with London and Vienna.
She came to a sudden halt, frowning. She didn't remember this by-street… it was narrow and consequently dark, with buildings of brick on both sides and light only at the ends (one behind, and one far in front of Hungary). She strained her ears, but heard only the rustling of the wind and farther away the murmur of the cities. I don't like that… -she thought, biting her lip, pondering about which way to go. This felt like a scene from a bad movie… She felt sure she would hear footsteps from behind any moment now.
A droplet of sweat ran down the back of her neck as she waited in the all too great silence, not daring to breathe or move- and she nearly shrieked when the sound of someone approaching her met her ears. She began to run blindly, squeezing her eyes shut; completely forgetting she was sure to get lost that way, taking turns randomly. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, her lungs and legs, however, didn't fail her yet, thanks to the fact she tried to keep herself in a good shape. Not that she could be glad for that for long, though: she soon collided with someone or something then fell back to the ground. She heard hissed swearing (in English) while she stood up.

'S-sorry, I didn't mean to…'
'Wha… Hungary?' the other one whispered, getting up as well. His voice was familiar… wait, what did he call her?
'England?' she asked back, flummoxed. 'Now, they do say that the world is small, but I wouldn't have expected…'
England hushed her with an upheld hand, harkening. She did the same, but couldn't hear a thing. Maybe she wasn't being followed in the first place at all… She blushed to a deep scarlet, glad for the darkness to conceal her shame. Great, she got scared like a little girl for nothing, and now she doesn't even know where exactly she is! She mentally cursed herself, not realizing England had turned back to her.
'So… what were you doing here at this time, if I may ask?'
That's a long story…'-she sighed, uncomfortably shifting her legs. 'I came from my motel to take a night stroll, my thoughts got carried away, found myself in a dark by-street I didn't know, and I thought I heard approaching footsteps. N-not that I can't defend myself, mind you, I just… didn't think.' she groaned, hiding her face in one of her hands. 'That sounded lousy, didn't it?'
'N-no, it didn't… But… how come you're here already? I thought everyone else arrived only tomorrow morning.'
'I realized only today that there's a meeting tomorrow, and the ticket I booked well beforehand then hid so well I forgot about was for this afternoon. Er… I think I'd better get back to my motel… could you tell me which street we are in?'
'I could… but I'm afraid you'd get lost again, so I walk back with you. What's this motel's name?'
Hungary told it, blushing in shame again. Did she look so helpless and pitiful? Before she could voice her objections or lie that she would find her way on her own back just fine, England already took her wrist and began to lead her into the right direction. Her fingers twitched involuntarily at his touch, and she felt more blood running into her cheeks. A part of her wished she could just tear her hand away from him and tell him there was no need for that, but she didn't find the strength in herself, and not because of his grip, no. He held her wrist delicately, so that he didn't cause pain, yet firmly enough to keep her walking. What stopped her was… she didn't know, what it was, but she seemed to enjoy it, as much as she preferred being independent.
She had several persons she looked up to during her life and several nations as well. One of these was England, who first made her feel like she was accepted fully in Europe, despite her nomadic past and Asian roots. Sure, the wife of her first king was Bavarian and he got a crown from the Vatican, but… mercy and accepting are two different things. Perhaps because he felt to be an outsider as well, he understood her more than most, and she had learned a lot from him. For example, when she was here back in the nineteenth century…
She blinked a few times, not daring to shake her head but wanting to get rid of the memories of the palace near Paris from 1920- for usually, these memories followed her jovial visit with Széchenyi, when she thought about England, and she really didn't want them to get to her right now.

They got to a more frequented street with more light where he let go of her wrist and Hungary turned to take a proper look at her guide. She could tell already when they set out, that he wore black, but now it became clearer: a black leather jacket and gloves, a pair of black jeans, a navy blue, long-sleeved t-shirt, and a blue and black checkered scarf in his neck.
'Where have you been?' she asked, looking quickly away. Well, that certainly wasn't a usual outfit of Arthur Kirkland, but she had to admit it, it suited him well.
'I play in a rock band sometimes…' he admitted, blushing slightly. Hungary arched an eyebrow.
'In a rock band?'
'Why, is it that hard to imagine?' he retorted, getting uncomfortable.
'No, no, not at all, I'm sure you've got a good voice…'
'Well… come and listen to us once, then. I'll write a mail about the times and place…'
'Really? Thanks!' she said, beaming.
'Don't expect too much, though. We can't get too famous, or else I'll draw attention to myself…' he sighed, looking crestfallen. Hungary could only imagine, how it must've felt, having to sabotage your own work you've put your heart into… But she had to admit, he had a point: the media would more than happily cover the case of the un-aging rock star, and the secret of the nations wouldn't be a secret anymore.

They arrived to her motel quicker then she would've thought, and they faced each other to say goodbye.
'Tomorrow, on the meeting, then.' he said.
'Y-yes…' she muttered. She wanted to say something else, but she didn't know why, and before she could find it out, England already set out to get back to his band or to get a good sleep before tomorrow's usual chaos known by the name of a 'UN-Meeting'.

Hungary went in, changed to her nightdress and tried to fall asleep… but whenever she closed her eyed, she couldn't help but try to imagine what England might look like on the stage.

AN
The explanations of some hints...
19th century visit with Széchenyi: A young aristocrat of ours, István Széchenyi travelled about Europe, but England had a lasting influence on him: he wanted to bring the railways, horse racing and casinos to Hungary (so that the aristocrats will spend their money in Hungary), and to build a stone bridge on the Danube at Budapest (now known as Széchenyi Lánchíd/Chain Bridge).
Bavaria and Vatican: The wife of our first king, István (Stephen) was a Bavarian princess called Gizella/Giselle, who brought missionaries and monks along to help the ones the father of István already called in. He did get a crown from the pope, although it's not the same one as today's Holy Crown- but it's the symbol that matters, isn't it?
Palace near Paris: The Trianon Palace, where the treaty with Hungary was signed after WWI. It cost about 2/3-s of the country's territories- if you care to know more, wikipedia. Let me add: An English politician said after all the peace treaties, that those were mere armstices for 20 years. How right he was... Oh, and what about Austria? As a French politician said: Austria is what remains.
Cafés: In Hungary, the styles of the fin de siécle were introduced later, at the beginning of the 20th century (1906, to be exact), and they remained dominant until about the mid-20ies. Cafés belonged to this culture as much as catthedrals did to the gothic style, in Hungary at least: authors and poets even gave their favourite cafés as their addresses. It must've been a sight to behold a café back then... New York Café was an actual café, at that time at least.
France and fin the siécle: I imagine France in this period as... two times as himself as he usually is, so... it's like really... REALLY... advisable, to watch out around him.