Holy Rome in my story is little Germany. :D
There wasn't anything about formal settings that made Hungary comfortable at all.
She was scared of misusing her silverwhere, shattering delicate china, and tripping over the elegant furniture that stood around the ballroom like a complicated maze. Also, her dress was very hard on her waistline, especially after stuffing her face at the banquet, much to Austria's concern. She felt light-headed since she couldn't take deep breaths, lest the seams on her bust rip open, resulting in wardrobe malfunction number twenty.
Yes, she kept track of them. Formal settings often made her nervous, and nervousness preludes paranoia, and hence, the numbers in her head.
Releasing a careful, well-executed sigh, she turned to Austria, who seemed to be faring a lot better than she was. He had the patience to take small, thoughtful sips from his glass of wine, instead of letting all of it crash into mouth at once. He seemed to be in good spirits too, walking around and talking to all the other guests. He was feeling better now than he had been for the past few months. For that, she was glad.
"Miss Hungary, what a pleasant surprise!" A smiling lady with a poofy blue dress and large wig appeared in front of her. Hungary recognized her as Austria's new boss. She strutted over to them, batting her fan as quickly as she was batting her eyelashes.
Austria's face fell slightly upon seeing her.
She gently took Hungary's hands into her gloved ones. "Pardon my intrusiveness," She said, in a surprisingly humble tone, "But," she paused and licked her lips before continuing, "Words cannot hope to express my gratitude to you, for having saved us all."
Hungary bowed her head politely, " It was my honour to have been at your service, your highness." She was surprised that a woman of her stature had just spoken to her in such a manner.
Austria looked to and fro at the two women, before saying curtly, " I shall get some drinks for you ladies." He turned and strode towards the catering tables, but not before placing a hand gently on Hungary's shoulder.
Grinning mischievously at Hungary, her highness leaned over and swung her fan over their faces, covering them. She scrunched her face into an ungraceful scowl, and flipped her middle finger at Austria when no one was watching, at which Hungary let out a barking laugh. She covered her mouth quickly and apologized, her face turning red.
Her highness shrugged coolly. "Don't mind him though, he spends too much time with his nose up the air to notice how many people are actually mocking him behind his back." She said, perking up a perfectly-drawn eyebrow.
Hungary chuckled politely at her comment. She decided that she liked this woman, and what she had said about Austria was, well, quite true.
"But, I digress," Austria's boss continued, "He is a good man, when he isn't trying to strangle himself with sophistication. And you are quite the lady yourself, aren't you?"
"Well, thank you!" Hungary replied kindly. She was getting a feeling of where this conversation was headed.
"To tell you the truth, I have always looked up to you." Her eyes were glowing in adoration. "A little bird had once told me that there was a fierce female warrior from the eastern lands, who had leveled forests and tamed seas..." She clapped her hands together excitedly, "Oh, and to think only men belonged on the battlefield... You, Miss Hungary, are a hero!"
Hungary swatted her hand dismissively, blushing a little. "I'm not sure about that..."
Hungary didn't know what else to say back. It was not often that she was being gloated upon. She had never taken compliments well to begin with, even if it was only Gil telling her that he liked her new shirt or something.
She grinned at her stiffly, looked around in anticipation, and fiddled with a stubborn knot in her dress. As silence befell them, she began wondering what was taking Austria so long.
However, there was one little creeping thought that never ceased bug her, ever since her return from the battlefield.
Yes, they may have crowned her the country's hero, and even the empress glorified her. But, she knew that the reason why Gil invaded in the first place was because of her. These past few days, she had often asked herself how it felt to be the sole reason behind the country's political strife, destruction, and not to mention, thousands of lives lost.
All these sacrifices, made upon the altar of her selfish love.
And, it shocked and disgusted her, the fact that she was able to live with herself, after being the bait to all these atrocities. What made it even worse was that, a part of her still secretly— ever so secretly— hoped that Prussia would invade again, no matter how much she hated herself for it.
Hungary didn't need praise for having won the war, as she had fought to save herself. What she needed instead, was someone else who could save her, from herself.
"Are you alright, Elizaveta?"
"Yes, Roderich, I am fine," she said slowly, as if to convince herself as well.
He took out his hand. "Would you like to dance?"
"But, I don't know how." She answered, but placed her own hand in his anyways. She could use a distraction.
"I'll teach you," he said, as he extended a few fingertips to gently graze her cheek. Austria frowned at how quickly she shied away from his touch.
He led her into the centre of the ballroom, directly under the sparkling chandelier. Hungary was becoming worried about how precariously the pretty, though heavy-looking object was dangling from the ceiling, but no more than the fact that Austria now had an arm wrapped firmly around her waist, her fingers intertwining with his gloved ones. They were getting too close for her liking, and Hungary tried her hardest to lighten up her every step so she wouldn't trip on his feet.
She eventually did latch onto the relatively uncomplicated choreography, and relaxed. She had never truly understood the enjoyment one was supposed to get from ballroom dancing. The whole experience had been somewhat uncomfortable, which was perhaps due to Hungary trying to convince herself, despite the unconditional tenderness with which Austria had treated her, that she still liked him as a friend. His eyes, the pools of deep indigo, held such love and grace that Hungary almost smacked herself for not having noticed sooner. It was as if they were persuading her to stare into them, forever.
Prussia's eyes, though cold on the outside, had unadulterated, lava-like passion brewing beneath the exterior. He held a borderline maniacal, though he always seemed to reserve a soft glow for Hungary only.
She had always liked them, adored them, but she figured she could get used to Austria's too. She had to. Because...
She probably was going to be staring into them for a while.
Austria tried again to cup Hungary's face, even more gently than the last. This time, Hungary gave in. She closed her eyes as she surrendered to his touch, placing her own palm over his. To save everyone, to save myself, she chanted in her head.
He brought her closer, burying her head into the breast of his coat. "I have long wished to tell you something," Austria murmured, his lips tickling the shell of her ear, "I love you, Elizaveta."
This was the best way, the only way, in fact, to keep any more blood from being shed, to keep Austria from suffering, and perhaps to achieve a small measure of peace on the inside for herself.
Austria pulled them closer until his lips were only a minute breadth from brushing, or, if he had failed to subdue his inhibitions, completely devouring, hers. Rising on her tiptoes, Hungary closed the gap, but only briefly— a small, but meaningful kiss.
"Will you please love me?" Austria asked, only seconds after Hungary's heels hit the ground.
"Um..."
She never thought that it would come to this, that the sniffling little boy she had known from her childhood would be the person he was today, and be who he was to her. Though Hungary chose not to believe in such cliched and pointless things as fate, she could not find a more viable explanation for all that had happened.
"I want you to think about it," Austria said after moments of silence, "But, no matter what, my feelings for you will never change.."
But for Hungary, accepting the fate that had been cast upon her, was another issue.
It wasn't that Hungary completely fell out of love with the man sitting next to her right now.
He was Prussia, her Gil, the person on whom she had had a crush for as long as she could remember. Yes, she liked him even back when he was the biggest jerk in the whole universe.
"Liz, stop being such a bummer," Prussia whined, shaking her shoulders, " If you don't want to sleep with me, then let's go for a walk or something..." He seemed completely oblivious to the annoyed expression etched in her face.
Hungary turned away from him, not wanting to deal with this moron right now. After all these years, was Prussia still so self-centred to not see that she was upset?
Prussia, of course, knew she was upset, but decided that cheering her up with mischief was a lot more fun than sitting down and listening to all of her womanly troubles. Perhaps, if he kept avoiding the issues that stood between them, they would just magically go away.
Grinning devilishly, Prussia went on to say, "You know, maybe this is why I am the only lover you have ever had! No one wants a serious, grouchy, bitchy cun-..." He was silenced with a harsh kiss, and yelped loudly when Hungary bit his tongue.
"Watch your mouth..." Hungary murmured, as she licked the blood off his lips, " Or I'll kick you out of my house and leave you to freeze in the snow..."
She loved how well she knew Prussia, everything about him. The man who instilled fear among even the most valiant warriors in all of Europe could be brought down to his knees in front of her.
But nevertheless, she knew just how dangerous he could be. Underneath that handsome, boyish charm laid a ruthless killer whose reign of terror had afflicted her lands once, and was still waiting for the perfect moment to strike again.
She kissed him once more, softer this time.
It wasn't like Prussia to give up on his plans either. She could sense it— he was still hungry for war, and she wouldn't always be able to protect Austria from harm.
She fell into his embrace.
There was only one thing she could do, she thought, burying her face even deeper into his chest, letting the scent of sweat and blood fill her nostrils again.
She must cut off all ties with him.
"That's right, jump through the hoop and come into my arms, little Lizzie." Prussia teased, ruffling her head playfully, " Big bad Gil won't hurt you..."
She rolled her eyes. "Shut up and fuck me, you asshole."
At least for tonight, she could enjoy herself, for the last time. Their noses brushed lovingly and their fingers intertwined. Only for tonight, their common enemy was the sun.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
A gust of wind blew across the field, lightly ruffling the untrimmed grass, and, only for a second, lifted the drooping willow branches from depression. A baby bird spread its shy, young wings and took its first flight, trusting that the lilting wind would save it from a hard fall. The water in the brook sparkled under the afternoon sun, which looked like it was soon to be enshrouded by gray clouds looming in the wake.
Though no matter what, with time, the sunlight would fade, water would vapourize, grass would wilt, and, young love, no matter how sweet and dear it had been, would eventually come to an end.
However, Italy was thankful that Mr. Austria give him the day off, so he could at least be with Holy Rome for a few more hours before he had to leave for good.
Italy didn't know exactly why his love must leave. He had said it was because he must go to war. But Italy didn't understand— Why did he want to leave him? He worked so hard on housekeeping, to make the mansion a comfy place to live, so why didn't Holy Rome want to stay here, with him?
They stood in front of each other, by the gates. Holy Rome's army general waited impatiently for them with his arms crossed, tapping his feet occasionally to show discontent.
"You'll remember to change your clothes and wash your hair every day, right?"
Holy Rome nodded unenthusiastically, rolling his eyes, "Yes Italy, I won't forget..."
"Oh! A-And remember to wash behind your ears every once in awhile. You know you would always f-forget when I am not here to r-remind you!" Italy squeaked earnestly, through a clenched throat and teary eyes.
Holy Rome pulled him into a hug, as Italy began sobbing wildly into his shoulder. "I'll come back for you, someday." He said, "I promise. Wait for me."
Italy clutched Holy Rome with all the strength he could muster, in childish hopes that it would somehow stop him from going. For the past few nights, he had been praying, in front of the large balcony window, under the multitude of stars in the sky, that Holy Rome wouldn't leave. But, even as a child, he knew that it was to no avail. Though it didn't stop him from trying.
"Miss Hungary will take good care of you when I'm gone," he lulled, lightly patting Italy's messy head, " And you will grow up to be a strong, powerful country, even if I won't be there to see it."
Holy Rome could hear little droplets of September rain begin to tap on the paved stone ground, over Italy's soft sobs.
"You know what? I'll will wait for you, Holy Rome," Italy said finally, looking up to him, his eyes brimming with determination, "Even if it takes a hundred years, a thousand years, I'll wait for you!"
Holy Rome smiled, nodding. "That's my Italy!"
"But I'll miss you, though..."
"I know, I'll miss you too..." He brought his head back into his chest.
Holy Rome only said what he said, only because he didn't want Italy to be sad. To be honest, he didn't know whether he was going to come back or not. He supposed that he should stay optimistic about them winning the war, but the chances were slim. Sighing, Holy Rome just hoped that Italy wouldn't be too hard on himself, were he to not come back.
Italy was still young. He'd forget about him, and find love again elsewhere. Maybe, he'd find someone who wouldn't be so heartless to leave him, like he was.
"Italy, I have to go..." Holy Rome whispered finally, embarrassed upon seeing that his whole army was watching them now.
"Okay," Italy sniffled into his handkerchief, "J-Just remember to change your underwear every day..."
"Yes I will."
"And eat your vegetables..." Italy added, blowing his nose.
Holy Rome nodded. He bent down to capture his lips into one last kiss. Short, but sweet, like the first one they had. "You take good care of yourself," Holy Rome told him, after breaking apart.
"You too..." Italy whimpered, as he straightened Holy Rome's hat and fixed his collar. "You win that war for me, okay?"
Holy Rome gave him a proud smile, and began to take his first steps away from his lover.
Italy wanted to chase after him. Just drop his broom onto the floor, quit his dirty job, and just follow his Holy Rome to the ends of the Earth. He had been so kind to him for all these years, and gave him butterflies in his stomach, and made his heart hop like a bunny, just from looking into his pretty, pretty eyes... Now that he was leaving, who would hold and kiss him when he was sad?
Italy sighed. He was afraid that Holy Rome would just fade into another sweet memory in his head, a memory of a boy he had loved during warm summers, under the bright sun and blue sky.
Heck, he didn't even know his real name...
"Holy Rome!" Italy sputtered out, running after him as quickly as his little legs could.
He stopped and turned to Italy, who was huffing and puffing his heart out. "What is it?" He asked, becoming a little annoyed now.
"Um, I just forgot to ask you something..." Italy chirped nervously, "What is your real name? Mine is Feliciano, by the way."
Holy Rome giggled. "Yes, I guess that is kind of important, isn't it?" He scratched his head apologetically. "It's Ludwig," he said. He gave Feliciano a deep bow, before turning his heel and leaving for good.
"Ludwig, Ludwig, Ludwig..." Feliciano muttered to himself, thinking that it was a really cute name for him. He would tell Ludwig that the next time they met.