Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete.
* Quick note: a section written in italics represents inner dialogue or a memory.
Tired of Waiting
Canada pressed his palms against his eyelids, grumbling, as he sprawled amongst the branches and cursed morning, responsibilities, and propriety in one breath. He had apparently fallen asleep in the tree, but dawn was breaking and he would need to prepare for the meeting in a couple of hours.
Sighing, he dangled his legs over the edge and jumped; crouching low on all fours to absorb the impact when he hit the forest floor.
"Too early..." He moaned quietly.
Leaves fluttered around him as he straightened up and hissed in pain.
"Fuck," he swore, glancing down to see the sharp end of a snapped twig piercing the skin of his middle finger. Crimson blood dripped down his finger, swelling around the twig. He pulled it out and examined the wound; it was somewhat painful but nothing to fret over. It was somewhere between a splinter and a stitch. He slipped the appendage into his mouth.
"An' tha' s' my favourite finga' too," he muttered awkwardly around the throbbing digit. He tilted his head back to glance through the treetops and to get his bearings. The first sprinkling of sunrise had lightened the sky but the Morning Star could still be seen and Canada was able to point himself east.
He wandered in the general direction of the others, sucking on his finger absentmindedly, and drowsily clipped a couple trees on his way. He apologized each time.
"Wa' too early..."
Prussia reached out from beneath his covers to snatch the alarm clock and dash it against the wall. It clattered loudly and the incessant ringing came to an abrupt end. He had originally set the alarm as a reminder that Canada was waiting for him and that the conference would be decidedly less tedious.
Fuck that. It was too early.
He whimpered as he buried deeper into the blankets.
It was too early, even for a treat such as Canada. He would just have to wait.
Dawn broke and poured through the windows, casting the room in hues of purple and softening the edges. The effect would have been lovely if the room itself was not in such disarray; charred curtains, toppled chairs, and that one suspicious stain on the carpet that none of the nations would admit to.
"This," Austria sighed as he surveyed the damage in dismay, "is completely and utterly ridiculous."
Hungary crept up behind him and tucked her head against his shoulder, blinking sleepily.
"What did you expect?" She yawned, running her hands over the seams of his jacket.
He clutched his temples to suppress the rising headache and knitted his eyebrows.
"Tact, perhaps? Discretion? I honestly do not know what I expected. I should know better by now, truly... Fortunately, I can blame all of this," he swept his hand towards the debacle, "on Gilbert; which is a favourite pastime of mine and serves to dull the pain."
Hungary giggle lightly into his jacket and wrapped her arms around him.
"He is fully aware that it is unacceptable to approach Canada in such a heinous fashion. There have been wars fought for much less than-" Austria was cut off when Hungary twirled him around and dipped him low, her tresses cascading around his face.
"Are you jealous, my love?" She asked affectionately.
He nodded, a slight blush dusting his features but hidden from the rest of the world by her hair.
"You know that I am, my dear. As are you."
Hungary giggled in affirmation and tenderly brushed his hair behind his ear before straightening and pulling Austria with her. She reluctantly released him to smooth the folds and creases in her dress. He straightened his collar with one hand and kissed her lightly on the cheek. She beamed and twirled in place; her skirts fluttering in a wide circle, before skipping further down the corridor.
"Oh, not to worry. The others will never stand for it and neither will we! Why elsewould we be wandering the halls at this ungodly hour?" She snapped her wrist in a languid, offhand movement without turning around. "Gilbert will never know what hit 'im! I promise."
Austria watched her skip around the corner, giggling, before shifting his eyes back to the dismantled conference room.
Canada held a special place in his heart but he supposed that most of the nations could claim the same. Still, there were far and few between who Austria considered worthwhile, and Canada was one of the few. It was not that Austria wanted all of his attention to himself; he just did not want anyone else to have it all. Least of all Prussia. Each nation held Canada in some esteem, but if Prussia managed to coerce Canada, would the nations be forced to abandon whatever bonds existed between them?
Austria leaned against the doorframe, watching the sky leisurely melt from purple to pink.
Austria was known to appreciate the finer things in life. He appreciated renowned literature and traditional sweets; he adored candlelight and classical music, and everyone knew this. What no one knew was that he also took simple pleasure in blowing bubbles in the garden with Hungary or baking cookies with Northern Italy.
Canada was one of the few that gave him the impression that he was living instead of just breathing. He could appreciate that. He could appreciate when Canada stood next to him on the terrace and sang gentle tunes under his breath. He could appreciate finding Canada fiddling in the park for the children and dancing in step to spirited jigs. He appreciated when Canada would set aside time just to paint with him and regale him aboriginal legends. Indeed, Austria cherished the strange landscapes he painted...
"Canada, if you do not mind my asking, why did you choose that colour?"
Canada hummed and glanced at the paint dripping from his paintbrush before continuing to flick the bristles over the canvas in diminutive, shallow motions.
"Why not?"
"Well... Surely, the colour of the sky is all wrong?"
Canada chuckled, cocking his head and squinting at the canvas, before twisting in his seat to smile at him. It was such a brilliant, wonderful smile that Austria felt his knees go weak even though he was sitting down.
Canada was breathtaking.
"Actually, I do not suppose that you have ever visited, but the quality of light in my country is quite different than yours." Canada pressed the paintbrush into his hand and closed his fingers around it. He guided it to the paint pallet and dipped it into the odd shade of green. He gracefully moved their hands together over the canvas and deftly added few quick, precise strokes to the sky. "That is why I can paint using this colour," Canada trailed their hands towards the pallet again and rinsed the paintbrush before dipping it into a peach pastel, "and this colour together."
Austria watched, entranced, as their paintbrush mixed the colours. His hand was warm and comforting over his own.
This painted sky was the strangest that Austria had ever seen but it was somehow soothing in the way that seeming opposites came together seamlessly.
There was a gentle knock at the entrance as Hungary slipped into the foyer and sat beside them with a thoughtful sound. She winked at Austria knowingly, and he ducked his head to hide the flush of his cheeks, as she shuffled through the pockets of her pinafore to find a petit point.
She was threading her needle when Northern Italy bounded towards them to scrutinize the painting. His face lit up in unrestrained happiness as he watched their hands shift over the canvas. He sat on the floor in front of them and pulled his knees up to his chest.
The painting was almost finished before Austria realized that Hungary and Northern Italy were singing soft folk melodies, and that at some point, he had joined them.
Canada cocked his head and squinted his eyes as he looked over the painting, but he was smiling.
In that moment, Austria had been content. Spending time with Canada was one of his simple pleasures and it happened little enough as it was. He had been content in spending time with his friends and watching the painting unfold. It was one of his cherished memories, and one of the few that Canada had been able to give him.
He did not like the thought that with Prussia pursuing Canada those fleeting moments could disappear altogether.
So, he pushed himself off of the doorframe and stepped down the corridor towards the new conference room. He paused one last time to glance out the window where the sky was changing from pink to yellow. It was beautiful, of course, but Austria found himself wishing for the strange colours from the painting that now hung above his fireplace.
Hungary stopped skipping the moment she turned the corner and instead pressed herself against the wall with a sigh. It was much too close to dawn to be awake, but the collective had agreed to meet on their own time after the conference room was set on fire. This was personal.
She slithered down the wall to the floor and brought her knees up to her chest. She rested her head on her crossed arms, promising herself just one minute of silence before joining the other nations in the new conference room.
It took her less than that one minute to fall asleep again.
"What are you doing?" Hungary asked curiously, watching the blonde tense at the sound of her voice before purposefully relaxing his muscles again. She had only seen him a handful of times and they had never had much occasion to speak.
Canada lowered the bow and arrow; loosening his pull on the string and aiming the arrow safely at the ground. He looked her over carefully and, seeming to place her, grinned widely. While his smile was a touch manic, his eyes were serene and she could identify with that sense of calm that comes from target practice.
Not that she had the chance much anymore.
"Practicing my shot," he said, still grinning. "Would you care to join me? There is another bow leaning against the shed behind you."
Sure enough, there was. Hungary hurried to the bow and held it up to inspect the craftsmanship. It was a decent bow, and she was pleased to see that the bowstring had been waxed recently.
She pranced back over to him and snatched an arrow from the bucket; the quiver lay uselessly on the grass. She quickly notched the arrow before tilting her head and raising one eyebrow in a teasing gesture.
Canada matched her stance and smirked.
"I take it that I've been challenged?" He chortled.
"You bet!"
"Have you ever...?"
"Boy, I was shooting long before you even knew what a bracer was."
Canada laughed again and the sound carried easily over the orchard of the latest meeting place.
"Somehow, I doubt that," he mumbled under his breath as he took aim.
Hungary tugged on the bowstring and aligned her own target. She began counting, feeling more excited than she had in a long while. It was rare that there was anyone new to 'play' with. Most of the Europeans knew to avoid her when she had a weapon in her hand.
This would be fun.
"One... Two... Three!"
"Hungary? Hungary? Why are you sleeping in the corridor?"
Hungary blearily raised her head to find the nation she had been dreaming about. He was slightly dishevelled and there were leaves wound into his curls but he smiled at her and held out his hand.
"Ah, I guess that was one minute too many... I was dreaming of the first time we met face to face. There was a competition," she yawned and held his outstretched hand. He hissed, barely a sound, and she could see that his finger was coated in dried blood but he hoisted her into the air with such ease that she stumbled into him. Canada set her back on her feet and bent over to dust off her pinafore as if she were a child. If it had been anyone else treating her like that she would have hit them over the head with a cast iron pan, but she knew that Canada would never be untoward or improper. She flushed and busied herself by staring at the dried blood.
"At archery practice, right? He asked as he straightened up. "If I remember correctly... I won due to disqualification."
Hungary was surprised that he remembered at all. She opened her mouth to argue, closed it, and instead reached over to tug the leaves out of his hair; giggling at the face he made when she showed him the little hitchhikers.
"No, no, Canada. I won; fair and square," she started again as she crinkled the leaves in her between her fingers.
"How is it fair and square if you were using me as a moving target?"
"Okay, so perhaps it was not fair and square, but I did win!" She exclaimed as she tossed the leaves through an open window. They watched the leaves spiral and disappear from sight before Canada turned back to face her.
"But you never actually hit me! How does that make you the winner?"
"Maybe because I said so?"
Canada narrowed his eyes and they glared menacingly at each other for a moment; gnashing their teeth and curling their fingers. It was always like this when the two of them had occasion to meet. It lasted only a moment before someone started smiling, breaking the spell, and they both collapsed in laughter. Hungary clutched her sides in mirth and Canada wiped his tears with the back of his hand. It was dawn and the two of them were ridiculous and overtired.
Austria rounded the corner, drawn by the noise, and stared at the pair rocking on the floor; howling.
"What, pray tell, is so amusing?" Austria asked in bemusement, settling his hand on his hip.
Hungary looked up at him, gasping for breath, while Canada curled tighter into a ball, shaking with stifled chuckles. It was one of those moments where the laughter taken over and no one could remember what was so hilarious in the first place. Whatever the original reason, it would pale in comparison to their reaction.
Whenever their gaze met new peals of laughter would tear free.
"I- I- I don't e-even know any-anymore!" She wheezed before toppling over again.
Austria waited with the patience of a saint for the two to calm down and five minutes later, after three false starts, Canada and Hungary were able to stand on their own without stumbling. Their cheeks were pink and glowing. Hungary plucked a camera out from the folds of her skirts and held it at an impossible angle to capture the two of them with their arms around each other.
She checked the viewfinder on the back of the digital camera and must have approved of the picture because she swatted Canada in the direction of his suite.
"- and I want a rematch sometime soon!"
"Any time, any place! Bring it on!" Canada called back before ducking around another corner.
The corridor felt a little emptier without him, but the laughter still echoed in her ears. Hungary threaded her arm through his and beamed up at him. Austria smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled in his affection. She led him down the corridor and towards the new conference room.
After all, this was personal.
Author's Notes:
The painting described here is an ode to The Group of Seven; a group of Canadian landscape painters circa 1920. If you look up a few of the paintings, you'll see some very distinct and interesting colour combinations. The collection is quite famous and, more importantly, beautiful.
The Morning Star is also known as the planet Venus, and it appears in the east. It is one of the brightest stars in the sky, which means that it is usually one of the first stars to appear in the evening and the last to disappear at dawn.
A bracer is a wrist and arm guard used in archery to protect sensitive skin from the sting of the bowstring if it is snapped too close. Throughout history, bracers have been ceremonial as well as practical and are often decorated with precious stones, carvings (wooden bracer) or studs (leather bracer). A quiver is a sort of light, thin basket or leather pouch worn by the archer to carry arrows conveniently. It is decidedly less useful if it is resting on the ground instead of on your back/hip as it will topple over (many are soft or have rounded bottoms), so a bucket or stand is easier to use at that point.
The quote from the last chapter was indeed from 'Alice in Wonderland'. Congratulations if you know your 'classical' literature.
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