It was an early September morning in the Holy Roman Empire. Quite cloudy, a little chilly, it was the kind of weather that persuaded even the most diligent people to stay in bed. However, there was only one person in the mansion whose spirit had not been dampened. Despite the early hour, he was dressed like he was attending an evening ball. His dark brown hair had been slicked back, and his spectacles were perfectly clean.

The man was in his study, standing in front of a window with the curtains drawn open. A violin sat under his neck, his long, thin fingers moving precisely across the fingerboard. The music could be heard from every corner of the mansion, but fortunately, it did more to help its occupants sleep than wake them up. Amidst all the ethnic tension and political strife that enthralled the household, they found comfort in getting to taste a little slice of culture every morning.

It had become somewhat of a relentless habit for Roderich Edelstein to play his violin every day at the same time, at this same exact spot.

After stretching out the final note of the piece with a delicate vibrato, Austria set the violin aside and ventured to gaze out the window— A "V" of cranes were flying across the marble-paved sky. Absently, he grazed his hand along the windowpane, in a vain attempt to trace their flight.

His thoughts wandered to a few days ago when he had invited Hungary for a visit. She had agreed, much to his pleasure, and he was to be expecting her arrival soon.

Though, Austria found it mildly surprising that she could hold such a cheerful air around him and their friends, despite the cruelties her country had faced in recent years. It had been a few decades since the Ottomans first invaded Hungary, and it seemed that Turkey was still determined to make her his own. But, the Hungarians were severely outnumbered, and it was going to be a matter of time before Elizaveta became Sadiq's personal maid.

Roderich almost felt sad for her.

When he saw Elizaveta's chariot coming up the hill, his heart gave a slight flutter. He straightened his outfit, and proceeded to walk downstairs to greet her.

Roderich stood at the gates, waiting for the chariot to halt. He spared the driver a polite bow before walking up to Elizaveta, who was waving at him friendly. She was wearing a green, rather... voluptuous dress, with matching gloves and a sparkling emerald necklace. Her face was well-powdered, her hair was groomed, and she wore a flower behind her ear. Satisfied, he reached out his hand, which she took, and they began to stroll back inside.

"Wow," She said incredulously, looking around with wide eyes, "This place is as pretty as I remembered it to be."

He chuckled, "Well, Holy Rome isn't the type of person who welcomes change. So, other than painting the mansion a brighter shade of white, he hasn't done anything to it for hundreds of years."

"It's gorgeous," she whispered, to herself.

When they had reached the staircase, Roderich said, "Be careful, Elizaveta."

Elizaveta gave him a look, let go of his arm, and climbed the few flights of stairs harmlessly in her high heels.

They took a seat in the living room, where wine and pastries awaited them. Together, they chatted about the weather, what their friends had been up to, and whatever else that was on Elizaveta's mind. Roderich stayed silent, nodded his head, and occasionally slipped in his own commentary.

As the years passed, she became more like her boyfriend, Gilbert. Maybe it was how she sat with her legs crossed. Or, perhaps it was the bloody curses that would slip out of her mouth when she was immersed in a rant.

But, Roderich had to admit that Gilbert's traits seemed so much less hideous on Elizaveta.

Taking a sip from his drink, Roderich asked, "By the by, how is Gilbert doing?" Not that he really wanted to know, but figured he should take the initiative to also start a few conversations.

Elizaveta stared at him questioningly, "Oh, uh, he's fine." She answered, "He won quite a few wars, and, um, his people are living quite well under the new crown."

Roderich lied, "Well, that is pleasant to hear."

She nodded.

"And," he continued, "What about you, Elizaveta?"

Hungary looked away from him in silence. A few seconds later, she said, "I'm fine, Roddy," and took a large, loud gulp of wine.

Of course, Roderich knew exactly what had been bothering her, and found it rather amusing that she didn't go to Gilbert for help.

She was a proud woman, too proud. She probably would rather see her country fall into ruins than give up the rivalry between them.

When meal time came, Roderich and Elizaveta ate in unusual silence. Elizaveta had said nothing but "thank you" when his maid offered her the food, and didn't seem eager to converse with him.

Roderich was starting to become a little concerned about her sudden descent into silence, and not to mention, the unusually dainty manner in which she had begun to use her cutlery.

After the meal, Roderich decided to take her out for a promenade in the countryside. For what felt like at least thirty minutes, the two did nothing but step on dirt and gravel while apathetically marveling at the scenery. The conversations that Roderich had tried to strike up failed, as Elizaveta chose to remain in her sullen cubicle.

Seeing that she was wearing nothing but a thin dress, he offered her his coat as an attempt to break the silence, but was coldly refused.

"Elizaveta," he said finally, after the silence had existed for an inappropriately long time, "You can come live with me if you wish."

"W-what?"

"You may live in the mansion, and I can most likely convince my boss to giving your country, or what's left of it, protection under the Hapsburg crown," Austria said, reaching over slowly to take her reluctant hands. "Don't deny yourself, Elizaveta, you and your people need this."

She didn't know what to say.

Tears were beginning to pool in her eyelids. Her coral-coloured lips quivered, but no words escaped from them.

Roderich brushed his fingertips across her pale cheek; the silkiness of her skin could even be felt through his gloved hand, "You saved me when we were little," he continued, his voice achingly soft, but clear, "Now, I must return the favour."

She took hold of his hand and let them down from her face gently.

Without warning, she leaned over, threw her arms around his neck and began to cry. Roderich gave her a few pats on the back, not minding that tears were beginning to soak through the fabric of his coat. He dared to brush his fingers through her long, wavy locks as she sobbed and wheezed, mumbling nonsensical words into this chest.

After a few minutes, Elizaveta seemed to have calmed down a bit. He reached in his coat pocket, produced a handkerchief, and gave it to her.

"Sorry, you had to see that," she apologized, to which Austria shook his head.

"So, what do you think of my proposal?" Austria asked, after Elizaveta's sniffling became less frequent. "Money wouldn't be a problem, and you wouldn't have to live like a vagabond anymore..."

"Oh! Um," she squeaked, turning away from him, "I d-don't know...I'll have to think about it."

Roderich said nothing in return. He turned his head and looked into the distance.

Past the tumbling green hills was a forest, in which the trees stood tall and strong, like soldiers against the northern winds. Beyond it were more hills, and eventually, a city. The cathedral's crucifix was clearly visible, despite all that stood in the way. Now that it had gotten really quiet, Roderich could almost hear the bells chime, carried by the nippy breeze.

"Thanks Roderich, you are a really good friend."

It had always been that whenever Gil and Liz wanted to hang out, they simply showed up at the other's doorstep, and off they'd go. There was no need for letter-writing nor any other kind of formality. Though, when Gil showed up at Liz's doorstep today, it was to fulfill a hand-written proposal that had been delivered to her hands by his personal valet, two days before. So, she was curious.

He called it a "date".

When she saw her boyfriend standing in front of her door with a bouquet of roses in his hand, she was gently amused.

He bent down and foolishly kissed her hand, before breaking into laughter at the practiced social cliche. After a slap on the face by Liz, he rose up and proceeded to lead her arm-in-arm into the chariot, cocking his head in sarcastic pride as he walked.

"Where are we going today?"

"The moon!" Prussia answered, grinning cheesily at her.

"Really?"

"Ahahaha, no. Paris."

Hungary shrugged with indifference. It didn't matter where they went. She was just happy to see Gil after such a terrible week. Though she couldn't confide in him about her troubles, she was happy with just seeing his face. Letting out a quiet sigh, she rested her head onto Gil's shoulder. He smelt of sweat, blood, and to her relief, clean laundry. In response, Gil put his arms around her, as if he read her mind and knew that she was upset about something. However, he didn't ask what it was, and Liz hoped to God he never would.

They arrived in Paris, some time later.

"Well, Liz, here we are!" He gestured to a particularly big mansion on the street.

"Where are we?" Hungary asked irritatedly, tired from the long ride, and of seeing all the beautiful buildings which lined the streets. She hated being reminded of how her own country was in bad shape.

"It's one of the new restaurants that opened up recently. Francis said that he liked the renovations on this one so much that he decided to run it himself!" Prussia explained, grabbing her stubborn hand. "Come on, let's go rub his shitty food in his nose!"

And, taking another forkful of meat pie, Liz decided that Francis' food was as good as he had claimed. Though, it been a while since she had anything else other than rabbit meat. So, her standards were quite low.

However, not even good food could distract her from thinking back to Roddy's proposal, nor did the trip to Paris, nor did spending time with Gil.

Liz sighed again. Her country needed help, and she knew what she must do, even if it would upset Gil. Asking him, her childhood rival, for help was out of the question.

It was so embarrassing that Roddy had to see her cry like that, but at least he was kind enough to not judge her... While Gil would probably scoff at her for being weak, and yes, he most probably would, Roddy was more than willing to help. They were so different, Gil and Roddy, like day and night.

"What is this shit?" Gil spat, stabbing his roasted chicken leg like it belonged to an enemy. He put a piece into his mouth and swallowed with such exaggerated distain that Liz thought he probably did it on purpose.

"I don't think it tastes that bad," Liz said quietly, silently hoping that Gil wouldn't cause a scene.

Though he wrote to her all the time, Gil rarely saw Liz in person anymore. They were both too busy!

He had heard from his boss that Hungary was in quite a bit of trouble, and Gil became worried, very worried about her. It seemed as if Liz wanted to vent to him about her troubles, but couldn't for whatever reason.

He hated how she didn't want to talk about these kinds of things to him, of all people. Gil would be more than willing to help her, if only she spoke up.

And she did, eventually.

"I have to tell you something," Liz began, as they walked down the street, holding hands.

Gilbert had a feeling about what she was going to say. He squeezed her hand gently, to tell her that he was listening.

"It is about Roddy."

Gilbert froze.

"What about him?" He asked quickly, sounding a little too demanding than he had intended. They had stopped walking by now, and he found himself standing in front of her, arms crossed.

Liz took a deep breath, and looked up to meet his eyes that were now gleaming dangerously. But, what must be said, must be said.

"He offered to help me fend off the Ottomans. In exchange, I'd have to move to his house..." She reached over and grabbed Gilbert's stiff hands, "Which means, I probably won't get to see you as often anymore, Gil..."

For a while, he simply didn't know what to say back, and just stood there, dumbstruck.

The childhood dislike he had for Roderich was long gone. They went their separate paths now, and Gilbert had long forgotten what made him hate his cousin in the first place. No, this was not because of Roderich. He had nothing to do with this. Nothing at all...

"Why are you going to him?" He found himself yelling at her, "You know I will always protect you. I'll take better care of you than he ever could!"

She shook her head.

"Gil," Liz gently cupped his reddening cheek, and whispered only centimetres from his face, "You can't protect me forever. My people are about to be enslaved by them, like what they had done to the Bulgarians, the Serbs. I can't let that happen, and we both know that even if we combine our two armies, the Ottomans would still be too powerful."

Gilbert frowned.

"And besides," she added, "You have your own country to run, right?"

...Oh, he understood now, and almost felt a fool that he had not realized this sooner. This wasn't about him having his own country to run, nor not having enough military to expend for her sake. He knew. They probably both knew, that his knights would have put up a great fight against those Turks. But, the problem laid in the fact that she simply couldn't bring herself to rely on him completely.

It was a matter of pride.

Liz would rather be brought down to hell than be indebted to him. Yes, they were friends, and lovers. But to her, they were rivals above everything else. She had already accomplished a lot, for a woman, because he was such a gentleman and would usually let her win. But, when it came down to it, Gil sometimes wished she'd let some things go.

"You are right," he said finally, trying to not lose his cool. His face stretched into a fake, wide grin. "Anyways, it is not like we won't get to see each other anymore!" He placed a trusty hand on Hungary's shoulder.

"Yeah," Liz smiled apologetically, and placed her hand on top of his.

"That's the spirit! You know I'll come visit you all the time, and if Roddy doesn't like that, he'll have to answer to my fist!"

He laughed again, too dryly to be sincere.

"I'm sorry Gil," she said, looking away from him. She would always love him, but beyond love, was duty.

He chuckled and shook his head, "Whatever. Today is our day, Liz, let's not talk about depressing shit."

Liz nodded in agreement.

Yet somehow, she knew they'd be together no matter what.

Note: Hapsburg (Austrian) kings ruled a chunk of present-day Hungary from the 16th to 19th centuries.

All right. This is the end of my update. Please review! Thank you so much for all your support for this story thus far. :)