Ha. This mofo is long. It is about the Austrian succession, and a bit of a turning point in the story, for these characters at least. Enjoy!
Austria wasn't the type of man to despise change, nor to welcome it with open arms.
But, to be a nation was to accept and adjust to change for the sake of survival. Which was why his personal thoughts regarding the fact that a woman had become his new boss was rendered insignificant. What mattered now was how he chose to accommodate to this turn of events.
The moment she had stepped onto the throne, Austria had been warned of the inevitable consequences, and had mentally prepared himself to face them. Therefore, when he had received news that Prussia, France and Spain were going to challenge her throne, he wasn't at all surprised. It wasn't unlike these countries to find any excuse to pull the rug under his feet.
Besides, Austria wasn't oblivious to Prussia's growing presence on his property for the past few years. Prowling around his territory, like a vengeful ghost. Though Austria had been tolerant and civil, he knew that Prussia wouldn't return the favour. He had known, since the day Hungary had moved into his mansion, that this day was going to come.
Women were such troublesome creatures.
Pouring himself some wine, he leaned back into his chair and rested his feet on the ottoman. He didn't take a sip yet, but instead took a deep breath and sank deeper into the cushions with the glass in hand.
The Netherlands wrote to him, promising that he would help. England also promised to send in reinforcements, though Austria had never even personally met the man. No matter, the acquaintance would come eventually, as long as he had that powerful navy under his disposal.
To be candid, Austria hated war. Conflicts between nations should be solved through negotiations, not through unnecessary barbarism. But, if Prussia was so craven to talk to him face-to-face about the issue, and had to resort to declaring war on his country, then so be it.
He held the glass of wine in front of his face to scrutinize. Unlike the world that always seemed to change for the worse, wine never went sour. It ripened with age.
It possessed a dull, swirling glow, as if he was holding liquid garnet in his hands. All it took was a tight squeeze and a grunt of anger, to free the red liquid from its glass trap. It showered onto the wooden floor, along with shards of glass. Austria loosened his fingers, and the rest of the shards also fell with a clink. Taking deep breaths, he closed his eyes for a little while, letting his own blood drip from his limp hand.
Drip drip drip.
He enjoyed the music, but not anymore than he enjoyed the thought of revenge. Indeed, revenge. For hundreds of years, the notion had laid low in the back of his head. But now, the time had finally come. Yes, Prussia, that worthless delinquent, will fall, and Austria was going to trip him with his own cane.
After a while, Austria awoke from his nap. He strode over to his drawer and took out some bandages for his hand, as well as a small, wooden box, intricately engraved and lined with gold. It contained something that he had gotten a couple years back, and had meant to give to Hungary ever since. Gently sliding it into his coat pocket, he smirked before walking out of his door and up to Hungary's room.
He gave her door three brief taps.
It flew open seconds later, revealing Hungary's smiling face.
"Hello Roderich, what a pleasant surprise." Her voice was always so bright and melodious. "Won't you come in?"
Hesitantly, Austria accepted the invitation into her own bedroom. Deciding that the light outside was too bright, he walked to the window and pulled her curtains down.
"Sunlight is not good for a woman's skin," he stated.
Hungary snorted. "I spent my whole life outside under the sun. You know that, Roddy." She sat back down on her bed, returning to what looked like... needlework.
Austria blinked his eyes curiously, "Pardon me, but why are you doing needlework?" He asked, taking a seat upon the stool by her vanity table.
"Oh, um, my one dress ripped open." She chuckled, yanking her needle out of the fabric. "Silly me, I now know better than to bend down to tie my shoes when I am wearing something like this."
There seemed to be a huge rip in the bust that she was trying to messily fix.
"Elizaveta, you could have just informed me. I would buy you a new one." He walked over to sit beside her, and grazed his fingertips across the dress' silky fabric, "If you like this style, I can ask the tailor to make you a few more pieces."
She shook her head. "Thank you, but I figured that I had to learn how to sew sooner or later." She rammed the needle back into the dress, almost grudgingly. "Then, I'll make you a shirt or something, if my blasted fingers can survive this project..."
Austria smiled and said nothing. He scooted over to the bed stand, and reached over to the ornate lamp on which it stood. Lifting the shade, he reached into his pocket and produced a box of matches. He stroke one alight and carefully hovered the flame on top of the candle's wick, as a warm, orange glow began to swell.
"Roderich, I heard from one of the maids that there was going to be a war..."
Austria chuckled, before putting the lampshade back on. "It's just a few countries who aren't too fond of my new boss, nothing serious."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked earnestly.
Sometimes, he felt as if she could read his mind like a book. "In fact,I have something for you," Austria said, taking out the box.
"What is it?" She asked, snatching the box from his hands.
"You'll see."
She flipped open the lid, and gasped.
It was a silver hair comb, with the spine carved into the shape of a tulip. Encrusted in it were large diamonds, shining with solar vivacity in the dimly lit room. It had certainly cost him a fortune, and Austria was sure that Hungary had never come into contact with such luxury in her life. Her hands were shaking as they tried to pick it up, as if she was worried that something so delicate would shatter in her blunt fingertips.
"Do you like it?" Austria said, placing a hand on her shoulders.
" I do... But..."
Shuffling closer to her, he curled a lock of her hair around his finger. She shuddered from the sudden touch, but didn't pull away. "You do deserve this, Elizaveta, and more," he whispered, ever so close to her ear. Taking the comb from her hands, he began to run it along her scalp, and one by one, smoothing out those stubborn knots she had acquired from irresponsible hair care. Hungary bit her lip, perhaps in pain.
"Would you do a favour for me?" Austria asked, twirling the river of long brown hair into the shape of a bun, a skill that she herself direly lacked.
"Of course, Roderich."
"There will be a ball for my new boss' inauguration which is to be held in the palace," Roderich explained, as he slid the comb into her hair, securing her up-do, "I would be honoured to have you accompany me."
He took her hand mirror from the bedside table, and held it in front of Hungary's face. Her mouth gaped at her new reflection, seemingly pleased with his work. "Yes, I will." She replied, finally, at which Austria was pleased.
He had been defeated.
It didn't matter that it had been a surprise attack, and that he was completely unprepared for it. Austria should have known that Prussia would stoop this low. He was Prussia, after all.
He had lost Silesia, and the fault belonged to no one, but himself.
Now, all that was left to do was for him to stumble back home.
Austria was not in physical pain, at least he didn't think he was. The scars on his chest, the bruises on his arm, throbbed with every heartbeat. It must have hurt, but he couldn't feel it. What hurt Austria the most was the fact that he had allowed himself to be defeated by the bastard again.
Allowed, like he was a filthy masochist.
What he feared most was the possibility that he would someday accept the inferiority that Prussia had afflicted upon him for the past centuries.
He feared that he would lose the ambition, the desire to fight back. He would shirk from his pride, as a man, and as a country, in order to tail after Prussia, just so he could put Austria in his place, to brand him with his real identity. An identity, wasn't this what he had always wanted? Even if it was one of the utmost degradation?
No, he must not think like this. Thinking had become dangerous.
Pushing open the front door to his mansion with all the strength he had left, he collapsed, face first, onto the cold ground.
"Roderich!" Hungary shrieked, dropping her duster with a plop and dashing over to pick him up.
Austria didn't say anything as she dragged him to the couch, yelling at Italy to bring them the medical kit and some water. He couldn't even bear to look at her in the face. Instead, he just laid there, eyes slammed shut, ignoring her frantic questioning. She did eventually understand, and resorted to dabbing at his wounds in silence. Austria had become too mindless to feel shame when Hungary ripped off his shirt. But when she began to apply ointment onto his chest with her own fingers, it stung, unbearably.
"I've had it, Roderich." Hungary stated, after she had finished bandaging all his wounds, "If you can't fight him, then I will."
His eyes shot open, and met with Hungary's. Her usual kind, clement gaze had been replaced with one of relentless, neon-green fury. Austria shuddered.
"No! Y-you can't, Elizaveta!" He countered reflexively, before descending to a coughing fit.
"Why not?"
"B-because... He is too strong, and this is an issue between him and I. You have no part in risking your own life like this." Austria hacked violently, spewing blood onto the couch. Hungary quickly helped him sit up and handed him a glass of water.
"No, Roderich, don't you understand?" She hissed, "This is not fucking about you! This— " She opened her mouth to say more, but quickly shied away, growling in frustration.
Austria looked away. This washis own battle against Prussia, and his only.
"This better not be about you not wanting my hands to get dirty, just because I am a woman!" She growled, snatching the glass from his hands angrily, and chugging down the water herself like it was alcohol.
"Elizaveta, I just don't want you to get hurt." He tried to explain, futilely.
"Yeah, and I don't fucking care," she spat, standing up. She seemed already prepared for the endeavor. Hungary was fully dressed in battle attire with her sword by her side and a musket strapped on her back.
Without even a goodbye, or even a glance, she stomped out the door and slammed it shut. Austria made no more attempts to stop her. Instead, he closed his eyes once more, finally letting himself drown into slumber.
Hungary's horse tumbled through the fields, leading the rest of the cavalry charge. Her vision was clear, despite the brume of dust that enshrouded her army, and the blinding anger boiling in her gut.
She was determined to shed some Prussian blood, and no one was going to stop her. She had no time, nor the mental effort to assess exactly why she had become so mad at him. She just... was.
Perhaps it was because she had gotten tired of seeing him torment Austria so ruthlessly for all these years. Yes, that must be the reason, she told herself. Hungary was simply sick of seeing this injustice play right before her eyes. Therefore, she believed that it was only fair that she did something to stop it. No more, no less...
The sky was a stagnant black sea, unmoving, unchanging, as if time itself had been frozen. Limbo dangled ominously above the horizon, as if was bearing to swallow the Earth whole.
The moon was there as well, shining brightly as it always had, watching the world through its white pupil, but never cared to entangle itself in the terrestrial chaos. Hungary sometimes wished she could be like that, instead of having to play the caged bird to her responsibilities.
Prussia and Hungary sat on the windowsill, hidden behind the wash of curtains. It was nearing midnight, and everyone else in the mansion had drifted into slumber.
"Liz, don't you wish everyday was like this?"
Prussia tightened his grip around Hungary, who sat in his lap, even though he knew she wasn't going leave him anytime soon. They still had a few more hours.
Speaking often ruined their moments together. Verbalizing the many issues standing between them would just make them seem more... real. She preferred to dwell in the sweet silence, their shelter from cruel inevitabilities, where all that mattered were his fingertips, his breath, and her love.
"Don't lie to me, Liz. I know you want me more than you allow yourself to admit."
She wasn't lying. She would never lie. She wanted Prussia more than anything in the world, and only hated herself for not having realized that sooner.
"I'll win you back. I promise. I will win you back, 'cause the only way for us to be happy again is to be together. Wait for me."
She brought his hands around her waist. He was so warm, and she was cold, always so cold. How she wished she could spend an eternity tucked inside his cradle.
At least for now, their only witness was the moon.
Stupid Prussia!
Though, as much as Hungary wanted to be mad at him, she couldn't. Instead, when she had first heard that he had declared war on Austria, she couldn't help but feel a certain warmth spread throughout her. When Austria stumbled back home in defeat, shattered and torn, all she could think about was the prospect of seeing him again on the battlefield, and his victorious, disgusting grin.
Did this make her a bad person?
When she did see his victorious, disgusting grin amidst the sea of soldiers, her heart lurched with excitement, for which she mentally scolded herself.
"Hello, Prussia." She managed to holler out, trying to gather as much substance, power, into her voice as she could.
Prussia made no attempt in suppressing a grumpy scowl upon seeing Hungary, who had foiled his plan. He had wanted to defeat Austria, damn it! His blood-red eyes flashed a murderous glint that, alone, could have made any impending enemy stop in fear.
Except, Hungary had seen that look on him enough times to be intimidated. She instead cocked her musket at him, her eyes narrowing at the target, his heart.
Prussia laughed bitterly, or perhaps in delight.
"Don't be a fucking coward, Hungary. Shoot me." He taunted, " You know I won't anyone else take my life."
Despite the barrages of sound that were already slamming into her eardrums, she could hear him as if they were together in a silent room.
But, she wasn't going to kill him, she could never bring herself to do it. All the previous anger that had consumed her had dissolved upon seeing her face. Instead, she regretted ever convincing herself that she needed to fight him, her Gil, for any reason beyond their personal bickering.
What made her hate herself even more was the fact that somewhere deep inside her mind, she wanted him to win, so his previous promise could be upheld.
They could finally run away...
No, she mustn't be so selfish! She cursed herself for ever letting such sick thoughts cross her mind. Her country was supposed to be at war with Prussia, and whether she wanted to or not, she must fight.
Tossing the musket aside, she drew out her sword instead and charged towards a mildly surprised Prussia, who also reluctantly drew out his.
Their weapons clashed skillfully, perfectly, beautifully with each other. One always knew where the other was going to strike, and countered it with uncanny precision. After all, for them, this was but child's play, something they had been doing with each other for as long as they could remember. Their swords weren't fighting. They danced with each other.
"So, why did you invade Austria?" Hungary asked. She aimed a weak stab at the side of his chest, only to be blocked by an equally casual, nonchalant arm.
"I had promised you I would," He shrugged, as he vainly attempted to cut off her pretty head, and failed, "And I am too awesome to break a promise."
"Gil, for the last time, I can't go with you!" Hungary reasoned, despite herself.
She allowed Prussia's sword to cut her arm this time, biting at the pain.
"Yes you can," Prussia said, slicing off a lock of her hair as his sword sneaked past her neck, the blade almost grazing her skin, "And you will."
Hungary gritted her teeth, as her hair fell down her lap and onto the dirty ground.
Damn it. He was right. He had been right all along. And now, all she wanted was for him to defeat her, so he'd finally take her away, so the could finally be together. Fuck Austria, fuck her country, fuck her pride. Hungary was tired, just so tired of everything in her life, and especially fighting.
Closing her eyes, she waited for him to take his final blow. Pain meant nothing to her now.
But, it never came.
Instead, Prussia had dropped his sword, fell off his horse, and was crouching, with only an arm to support his shaking body from collapsing. Before she realized what she was doing, Hungary had swung her sword towards Prussia's neck, stopping the blade only millimetres away from penetration.
"Alright, you win." Prussia growled through his coarse breaths, refusing to look at her.
Hungary's heart sank. "Gil..."
"But will you at least kiss me before I die?"
Hungary let her weapon slip from her fingertips as well. She almost felt foolish, perhaps guilty, in thinking that Prussia would ever harm her in any way. Despite her sore limbs, she crawled up to him and cupped his face, awash with blood and dirt. Hungary brushed her thumbs across his cheeks, and bent down for a single kiss.
A chilling gust of wind blew across the vast expanse. Silence had befallen the battlefield, save for a few hungry bird calls, and occasional premortem screams echoing into the night air. Prussia took a deep a deep breath, and coughed. The air was heavy, laden with smoke and sulphur.
Hungary's body stiffened under his. "Gil, what have we done?" Her voice had lost its brilliance, its conviction. She sounded hollow.
Prussia supposed she was referring to the aftermath of the battle. Maimed bodies and discarded weapons littered the ground, all of which were blanketed under the raw, fresh stench of death. Their bed was made of blood and dirt, and their own bodies were smothered in it.
He chuckled. Silly girl.
"I mean, I love you, but does our love really have to accost so many lives?" Her face was lined with worry.
Prussia didn't know whether he loved, or hated hearing her say that. She had put so much heart, so much passion into those three words, but ultimately, they had proven to be completely empty. She was still with Austria, and he would still be left to spend his nights alone, save for a bottle of whiskey.
"Gil, don't you think we are being selfish, to throw away the lives of all these soldiers just so we could be together? They have their own families, and the people they love. We shouldn't just ruin their relationships for our own needs..."
Yes, the humans were allowed a life, a chance at freedom. But it didn't mean that Hungary and Prussia should be cut off from attaining what they wanted, just because they were nations. Nations could think and breathe like normal humans, and they felt the same emotions. Prussia and Hungary had loved each other all their lives, and they deserve every right to be happy too.
After all, if it was due to human intervention that they couldn't be together, that he had to be in so much pain, then Prussia saw no reason to spare their lives.
"Liz?"
"Yes?"
"I will never give up on you, do you understand?" he growled, grabbing a fistful of her hair and jerking her head up to face him, "I don't care how much blood I have to shed, how many lives I have to take, in order to have you again."
She glared at him, in utter disgust. "You are a monster." She hissed lowly, slapping a clawed hand across his cheek.
"I know." He shrugged.
Which one of the three characters are you guys attracted to the most? xD
Rochu is next! After sooo long. Bet you missed them.