Another fic in the line, this one taking place in the late 1867, beginning 1868. About 300 years have passed since last fic, meaning a lot of things have changed. Like the other, it is based on my headcanons, not necessarily how you see it.
Warnings: It is extremely one-sided, and there are much elitism and a slight bit of racism white person against white coming from the feudalism and thought of the nobility.
Tolling Bells
"So, who are we inviting?" the female nation asked.
She brooded over the parchment while he wrote, the pen stopping for a moment so he could look up at her. As he found her eyes she was still reading the letter, a vague smile on her face.
"So, I'm guessing Arthur is one of them. Your English seems awfully good. I don't think I can write it that well."
It took everything for him not to roll his eyes at her, and he fixed his glasses on his nose and went back to writing, turning away from her.
"But you are using his human name. I find that odd. But really, who are the rest of our dear guests?"
"Your language is awfully unsophisticated for a lady," he commented, finishing the letter and putting it to the side to let the ink dry. She simply laughed, and he flinched slightly when a snort destroyed the clarity of the fine tones. The woman could have such a beautiful voice, such a beautiful laugh, but she chose to make it rough like a man rather than float like a woman.
Even so, when she sat down she showed some of the manners her years in his service at least had given her. "I will never be a proper lady, Mr. Austria, and you know it. But for you I will do my best when we are in important company." The way she smiled at him, teeth showing and honesty radiating, was nearly enough to throw him off. "Now, answer my God damn question before I fall asleep from boredom – who are we inviting?"
"Please, Elizaveta, watch your language." She gave a groan as he once more made her wait for the answer. And then it finally came. "I thought… all the greater powers of Europe. Even with the tensions going on it would be insulting not to invite everyone, don't you think?" Her eyebrows rose at his incredible politeness – but of course, it were simple politics. But one thing bothered her…
"Even Prussia? You wouldn't care about offending him – besides, he deserves getting offended at times."
"Yes, even Prussia… even though I agree with you. But I have invited him solely due to the fact that I want to take a look at that new, little child he is hiding… Germany, I have heard rumors call him. The new Germania, some say, the collection of the German states combined rather than apart. Otherwise I would have let that barbarian sulk in his own home, knowing the rest of us were at a party."
He sniffed, making the woman smile as he found another piece of parchment and started scribbling anew. The question of this 'Germany' had long been on his mind and weighed his chest, but whenever he demanded to see the child and get to know the child, whenever he claimed he had just as much right of the German States as the Prussian had – if not more – the Prussian simply stuck his tongue out at him. He acted as though this new country was his by right, even though Austria was far more influential than that silly, childish warmonger. Even after Prague he wanted the child for his own, hoping to teach it manners even after Prussia's certain destruction of him.
"I have already made the letters for him and the child, even if I do not even know of this Germany's human name. France and Spain as well, and Denmark, Sweden and Russia, and you saw the letter to Britain. I have made a list on the table of who I'm missing." He gestured for it and she reached out, taking it and looking it over.
After a moment she gave a noisy snort of disdain, looking up at him. "The Ottoman Empire? Are you serious? He is our-"
"I know. You do not have to say it. But not inviting him is insulting him, and as many troubles as he has given us through time we are not interested in angering him. He is getting old, besides. If we are able to get close to him it might be easier to get his subject states after we get power over this new Germany."
The female nation simply looked at him. Even if he was so physically weak that she had been forced to save him a few times it was no surprise to her why he had kept influential in Europe ever since his leaders ascended the throne as Holy Roman Emperors. He knew how to navigate the political and diplomatic scene, something most other nation lacked – herself included. Every marriage he had made, every move he had taken, was a part of a plan for expanding his power.
"And who is this 'Schwe' that you have crossed out?" she further asked, making him look up for a moment before again going back to the letter.
"It's Sweden," he confidently said. "I realized too late that I already made the letter for him."
Nodding slowly her eyes fell over the list again, beginning to notice who were missing rather than who were present. "Is Belgium not considered a great power?" she asked.
"No. She is newly independent and probably ends under a new ruler in time, or goes back to her brother. Subject territories usually get surprised how complicated it is to take care of themselves."
"What about the Italians? Is it the same?"
"The Italians are not invited in my home." The usually so easily managed idiots had been making noise ever since the problems with Napoleon planted ideas. At least he would give the stupid Frenchman the blame. He could still remember when Veneziano did everything he was told. Now he listened to his big brother instead, acting like them 'being together' was the most important thing in the world.
The female nation looked at him with slight surprise at his harsh tone, but quickly she hid it by looking down again. "They are simple subjects," the man continued, heat in his voice. It was close to a growl. The aristocrat nearly voiced real emotions at this little moment. "And they should act as such. Any nation has their right place, and they should stay there."
"So my elevation from subject to ruler is wrong in your eyes?" His words angered her so suddenly, making her stand up. "Or is it just a masquerade without real influence? Am I still beneath you in your eyes?! Will I still be scrubbing your plates and making your food?!"
As fast as he had been angered, he relaxed again, looking at her calmly through his glasses. "No, Elizaveta. It's rather the opposite. In my eyes you have never been a true subject country, even if both your gender and status work against you. Had you honestly not wanted to be my subject you would have left long ago." He couldn't help but think of the revolution in the 40's, but at least she had let that go. "I am simply honored that you have decided to stay for this long. Long enough for us to get together. With your strength and my diplomacy we would be unstoppable in this world."
Anger was still in her eyes, but she managed to sit down. A part of her was honestly flattered by his words, another had yet not forgiven what he had formerly said. And had it not been for the fact that she knew he never complimented people without meaning it she would have marched out on him, angered by his invalidation of her. Now, knowing he was simply honest with her, she stayed, deciding not to forget.
He simply let it pass, though, sitting as though he had never said it. "Do you have anyone else you would want to come, or any other comments?" The violet eyes diverted to her to pick up her answer, and she gave a single, stiff shake of the head, unwilling to do much more. To this he nodded. "Good. I expect a few not to come. Denmark is one, as it is not too long ago that I unfortunately helped Prussia steal away some of his lands without getting much in return. Another is Sweden. Had I invited solely humans I would likely have gotten a response for him, but the nation is not the most social individual."
Once more she nodded, knowing he spoke true and wondering what else she had to do in here. She was still annoyed with him. He put away the next letter, addressed for the Netherlands. Her eyes looked at it for a moment, trying to remember who exactly the nation was hiding behind the name 'Jan'. When it hit her she raised her eyebrows, looking at him. "Spain won't be happy about that. I am quite sure you know that. Those two have never forgiven each other."
"I do hope that it would be an informal, more personal occasion. I want us to meet man to man, not country to country. This is also the reason I use our real names rather than our country titles." For some reason it got her to calm down fully from her anger. The thought of acting like real humans for once… being free, even for just an evening… "It is for our wedding, after all. I want it to be good and peaceful, even if those terms usually do not go well with people like us."
Her warm smile baffled him a little when he looked up at her, and she simply stood up before he could ask her why. "Where did you put Lilli?" she questioned, as always noticing the sudden softening in his usually stern eyes when you spoke of his daughter. Liechtenstein.
"Last time I checked she was in the garden, reading fairy-tales." Compared to before his voice was soft. Like he wanted to stroke her by the hair and read for her, or play music for her. "It seems she has found a very popular author. I think he was from Denmark, but I am uncertain."
"Oh." The woman gave a nod, still smiling softly. She couldn't even be surprised. "I'll go check on her, maybe get her to take a walk with me. If you don't have anything more to say I will leave now."
He was just about to let her dismiss herself when he realized he had forgotten to say something. His gaze met hers to catch her attention. "One last thing – I was thinking we might allow them to be accompanied by one subject country and a small delegation of four humans to ensure them feeling comfortable, and now that we will be ruling together I thought I might ask how you thought of this?"
She just smiled and nodded. "I think that is a good idea." Then she went for the door, letting her hand affectionately brush his shoulder as she moved by. It caused his eyes to go away from the paper and find her, lingering on her as she closed the door.
He continued writing letters until everyone was done, then looked outside at the setting sun. It had been on his mind even before his soon-to-be-wife had come by, but the he had decided to focus on the 'real' invitations first. And they were now done. Meaning it was time to decide… His eyes moved over the list, settling on the crossed out 'Schwe'.
Part of him knew he should ask her what she thought. It was a great exception to his rule of only inviting ruling countries. But on the other hand… he wasn't a subject country either… That stupid, annoying peasant didn't really fit into the usual categories… No, he shouldn't think of him like that, not when wondering if that man should be invited to his wedding.
Mentally insulting a wedding guest you were not obliged to invite yet still wanted to invite was not a good way to start. It had been so many years since they had actually spoken… They had seen each other many times, of course, but that was standing on either side of the battlefield. Not the ideal way of contacting a person…
"It… It can't hurt," he finally mumbled, his pen shaking the slightest bit as he started writing. Even so, the writing flawlessly swung over the paper, gracefully forming the beginning of his very last wedding invitation, carefully spelling out the name Vash Zwingli.
"V-Vash Zwingli? E-excuse me… Excuse me! Do you know anyone by the name Vash Zwingli?"
The poor man's eyes moved back and forth as he tried to establish contact with the Swiss people walking past him from on top of the horse. The old streets of Bern folded out around him as the horse was turned around, trying hard to follow the human's orders.
"Excuse me, Sir, do you know a man by the name Vash Zwingli?" he repeated to an elderly man not in as much of a hurry, desperation growing on his face. He had been to the population register and had found them unwilling to help at the sound of that name. He could not decide if it was because there were no such person in the country – Vash was indeed an odd name – or if the person was too important for an Austrian messenger to meet.
The man stopped, looked up at him on the high horse, and shook his head. Then he spoke in one of those dreadful dialects, speaking in a way he couldn't understand, before pointing back towards the building he had left without answers. Going back to ask the register? People here were so hard to understand, even when you spoke German to them, and with an annoyed sigh he turned around. The younger Swiss spoke German back at him, but their accents were awful like they'd never spoken it before.
Where were the civilized people in this place?!
He turned the horse around, trying to figure out what to say to Graf Roderich when he got back with the letter still intact and untouched. But whoever this man was didn't show himself a lot. Even so the human made sure to contact anyone who stopped too close to him, asking for this person he barely believed existed. Vash really was a truly awful name. Was it some form of invention from the more French part of the country? Should he try going even further west?
His doubts and thoughts continued even as he got on to the smaller road outside town, wondering if he should use the railways to go back to Austria or if he should try another town. "Hello, do you know a Vash Zwingli?" No one in Austria had known exactly where to find him. He'd been told to try Bern, for there many politicians and officials were… did that mean this man was an official? "Has a Vash Zwingli crossed your path lately?" Did people not usually know of officials? And they always knew of politicians. Yet none spoke of this man. Was he out to chase a ghost? "Excuse me, do you know where I can find a Vash Zwingli?"
"Vash Zwingli?" a man asked with an accent of High German even more different than any of the former Swiss people he had spoken to. It sounded… it sounded like the accent came from all places at once, both within and without this nation, yet had it very own ring to it. There was a soft French and Italian tone, yet just as tough as the German pronunciation needed to be. "Who asks?"
He hadn't looked at the man he spoke to, no longer hoping to find any luck, and he found a young man watching him with rough features, deep, hard green eyes and messy, blond hair. Though he was barely a man. Rather some 17 or 18 years, if you were gracious. He wasn't very tall, nor did he look like much other than a herding lad, walking beside an old working horse dragging a cart of furniture with a herd of goats bound behind it.
"A messenger of the Austrian Empire." The strangers face hardened, the hard green eyes suddenly growing cold. The human made sure to make his voice authoritarian, daring the other to deny him the necessary information. "Where can I find Vash Zwingli?"
"You stand right in front of him." The voice was uncaring before. Now it was frozen. "What is this message you carry?"
For a moment the human stared. Then he shook his head, decided he didn't believe. "Do not attempt to fool me. If you are him I am looking for, I need proof from you. I have been looking for Zwingli all day and no one have been able to say a word – meeting him on the road by mistake is impossible."
"Well, unfortunately for me it is true. Just tell me what the aristocratic idiot to Roderich wants to inform me after these many years of silence." Once more he stared at the Swiss, the nation simply looking back with his hard eyes. The human was… baffled that he dared speaking of a nobleman in such a manner. "Yes, I know who sent you. So tell me what he wants."
"Oh, um…" Not ready to actually find the man nor meet such aggression from him the human turned to the pocket of his bag and found a letter. It was sealed with the seal of the Austrian Empire, impossible to mistake as the Swiss took it. "Do you need me to read it for you?"
"I can read," Switzerland growled, ripping it out of his hands and immediately breaking the seal to fold it open. His eyes scanned over the parchment, realizing that no, he couldn't actually read it properly. The curves were too big and lines too cringing, the letters made with too much unnecessary finesse. Cursed aristocrat.
With an annoyed sigh he leant back against the working horse pulling his wagon, the old, graying animal turning its head to sniff at him at the sudden contact. Spelling out each word on the paper he translated every full word from High German to French since he was unable to decide what form of Swiss German he should use in the moment. And the more he translated, the colder his eyes got and the darker his expression went.
A wedding? He was invited to that man's political marriage with another country?! In a classy environment of prissy, Austrian aristocrats? Just how stupid were they?
And then, of all the countries Austria could choose to marry… of all the weddings that man had participated in… he chose to invite him to the wedding with her.
His gaze moved back to the messenger, the poor human shifting uncomfortably under the nation's gaze. There was no doubt what the answer would be, and it wouldn't be good.
"No."
And it was the human's responsibility to give that information to his superiors.
"Tell Roderich he can take this invitation, roll it in tar, set it on fire and stick it up his ass."
The blond wasn't amused. And he wasn't interested. In general, he was just offended. How… how could that man dare to personally invite him to a wedding. His wedding. With that woman. That was just… just…
"I-I don't think-" the human stammered, but Vash just forced the letter back into his hands.
"Tell him. In exactly those words. And get out of my country. I don't have time for this – I'm in the middle of moving."
Then he turned around, getting the horse to move again and walking with heavy, stomping footsteps towards the city. The goats gave the man a last look, giving him the feeling that the animals were mocking him for his failure before they turned around and continued walking behind the cart, eager to follow their owner.
Everyone was lined up neatly in the seats of the St. Stephen's Cathedral, far too big compared to the amount of people waiting within. It was hauntingly beautiful and vast. Of those inside, half were aristocrats of the Austrian Empire, which had been officially Austria-Hungary for a few months now even if their personal wedding had yet to be settled. The other half were foreigners, people from all over Europe in their finest clothes.
As expected, Denmark didn't show up. Unexpectedly, Sweden had, and he had been glowering at Russia from the moment he had arrived with Norway standing closely to his side, not uttering a single word to anyone. The Russian had his tsar and three nobles with him, surpassing most the other guests in the finery of their clothes. The subject he had chosen to take with him proved to be his older sister, who was staring and turning around with wide eyes at everything she saw.
Britain had been chosen to sit on the second row, all the way to the right on the pews, with his own delegation of beautifully clothed people, while France was placed further back, on the left in the newest line of fashion his country had come up with. The situation was the same concerning Spain and the Netherlands, their position strategically perfect, and it continued to be so all around, keeping risks of conflict well away from one another.
One who stood out the greatest was the Ottoman Empire, wearing his luxurious Islamic clothing and the famed, white mask while in the house of God. The man himself just took it relaxed, though, having arrived with only two humans and no subject countries and not caring one bit about the confused human's bafflement that 'a man like he' dared to show his presence in a church. In actuality he was the nation smiling the most, ready to spend time having fun with his fellow nations.
By far he was the oldest of the people in the room, and as such he knew better than to stir unnecessary fights – unless it concerned the stupid Greek daring to claim independence after he had protected and taken care of him for centuries. Not to mention that around his eyes were deep lines of exhaustion hidden by his mask, marking the waning strength of the great empire. He had been a great, important power for over 550 years, a feat none of the other could claim, but the end of an empire usually meant the death of a nation.
Turkey was old enough to remember Rome and how that man had gone mad many times, how he finally lost it and how he then split apart in his death into two separate empires that would simply fall later on. He had memories of both Heracles' and Gupta's mothers and how they fell into decline as well, with nothing more waiting for them. He had known the Golden Horde well and he knew Mongolia wasn't the same as him just be looking at the Asian's eyes.
Though proud of his own ability to stay big and strong for so long, he knew what was coming and expected it to be deadly for him. Even so, with beginning sleepless nights, he was ready to have fun with his fellows as people, not knowing if this would be his last time meeting them as friends.
So he didn't care that people, humans who probably didn't know the significance of half the foreigners invited here, were staring. He just respectfully bowed his head to the Prophet, Jesus, as his pictures decorated the walls, and sat down on his assigned seat, making sure not to look at the smiling Russia always trying to get in his way and take over his territories. The only one in the room he truly didn't want anything to do with – for more reasons than he dared to inform the others.
And getting as much attention from the nations as the Ottoman Empire got from the humans were Prussia, sitting on the first pews but furthest away from the aisle. Or rather it was the man beside him, the blond none had really met before. They had expected a child of about five or six, maybe seven physical years. What was presented for them looked like a grown man with broad shoulders and a built like his brother except for his face, which was still childish enough to determine him as fourteen or so years. This person, called Ludwig… was not what anyone had expected. He was sitting, silent and stiff, beside his brother who had been around yelling at and greeting everyone until now.
They expected a six year old copy of the Teutonic knights. What they got was a serious a young man and a soldier, they couldn't doubt that. And he seemed stronger than any one of them wished.
But the true center of attention stood at the altar, silently waiting for his coming wife while looking over the crowd. Beside him stood the little sparkle of his empire, the little Liechtenstein waiting proper as a young girl about the age of twelve should. He had made sure to greet everyone with a nod for now and that a servant assigned them to their places. The front row on the foreigners side was empty on Ludwig's other side, like a gaping hole announcing the absence of someone.
Even with the messenger informing him that the Swiss would not be coming, stammering that the other nation had seemed quite upset but refusing to elaborate, Austria had hoped the man hadn't changed too much. That he was still able to become furious and start yelling in one moment only to swallow his words and actually do it when he calmed. The child Roderich had known did that all the time, screamed and fought not to do something only to sit down quietly when time came.
Unfortunately, Austria had seen no sign of him. Part of him hoped Switzerland would still be there, that the closed door would not stop him, that he was just hiding to show his annoyance with the Austrian. Another part knew Vash, his old friend, didn't want to know him anymore. It had been a small hope, a stupid wish to mend their bond. Over five hundred years had passed since they broke apart – closer to the six hundred. Would they never be able to talk again, if that amount of time couldn't calm that lowly- … that man down?
Then all eyes turned and Austria realized his soon-to-be wife was arriving. He redirected his focus, finding her as she came down the aisle with Ferenc Deák leading her towards him, a satisfied smile on the human's face. And it was not without reason. Just giving her one look, meeting her again in her wedding dress, he sucked in a breath.
A breath so big his corset stopped his lungs from expanding any further.
She was stunning. Her dress was made of white cream silk, flowing into a big skirt embroidered with silvery pearls in complicated patterns and layered fabric upon fabric to curve around her feet. Her waist was slimmed by a corset, her hair done up high with her natural curls slipping over her ears, complimenting the shape of her face and the smile glowing upon it.
It was as though she was really happy. Like their marriage meant something. The closer she got, the more his heart fluttered, and he didn't realize that he reached out his hand, asking for her to take it – before she elegantly did, looking like a lady as she got over to him. She made it feel like she wanted him, his person, instead of the power lying behind him. Of course his power had become shaky, but together they could fix that.
And he found out he felt the same. He didn't want her for the strength she had, the stability she could give, but for the person behind the country, for that smile on her face…
It was now, as he stood with her here, that he realized he actually did loved her.
Then, after she had done her performance as a proper lady with a beautiful gait and stood ready with him to get married, she broke the illusion by opening her mouth. "So you're ready to get on with it?" she asked, raising her eyebrows, and finally a smile pushed through his façade.
He gave a nod and they turned towards the altar. For the rest of the city of Vienna the bells foretold that a new marriage had been established in this world.
The evening party was moved from the cathedral to Schönbrunn Palace to enjoy the beautiful, rich interior and the giant rooms. There were music – there could not be a party without music – and the dancing had started immediately after the small buffet in the middle of the day. Austria and Hungary were the first upon the floor, the female smiling more than the code demanded and forcing her new husband to follow her.
The evening went on, speaking to and getting congratulated while everyone kept civil. The tensions you could always feel when the nations came together to sign contracts or find agreements after or during wars had evaporated to only small sparks between the fiercest enemies. Attempting to lighten the mood and get people to embrace his own cultural heritage the Ottoman empire had taken the female human from his home and attempted to mix a dance from his culture with the classical tunes from the musicians.
It caused a great scene where people – mainly humans of the Austrian nobility – curled their noses at this change in classical customs, even if some saw it as a challenge. The general mood got lighter, though, when France took it upon himself to save the Ottoman from rejection and ridicule by attempting to copy the odd dance, getting close to the other empire to recognize the steps exact.
The French nation soon laughed when he couldn't get it right and when the music confused him compared to the rhythm of the dance, and the usually so elegant man lost his balance. A gasp went through the room as all attention had turned to him, but somehow the Turkish man had managed to save him in the last second by slipping a hand under his shoulder. "Woops," the Frenchman said as he regained his footing, before laughing, and soon the whole mood changed when the rest of the room laughed with him.
This all eased the tension even more when other people followed the French nation's example, even if few people among them certainly didn't approve of the change of direction. It left only few standing on the side, Austria among them as his dear new wife got caught by his cursed enemy and cousin, Prussia, in what would soon be a battle of stepping on each other's feet. Others were Russia and England, the latter standing cross-armed as he stared at the dancing Frenchman.
Another keeping from the dance floor was Germany, standing in the corner and talking with Liechtenstein. This ended as the main focus for the Austrian's attention, since he needed to speak to the young soon-to-be nation without the cursed Prussian to distract them. With fast steps he moved closer, positioning himself beside his darling daughter. "Hello… Ludwig was the name?" the Austrian questioned in German.
The blond kid had already turned his attention to him when he approached. Now he just gave a bow of his head in greeting, the younger's face oddly stiff. "Hello, and thank you for inviting me. My name is Ludwig, yes," he said in German as well, straightening again and looking into the older nation's eyes. "I have heard a lot about you, Roderich."
There came a slightly inappropriate grimace from the brunet. "I hope it is not from Gilbert, or I cannot promise you the claims are valid." Beside them Liechtenstein covered her mouth to hide her laughter. The blond nation just gave a shrug, and the smallest hint of a smile came over his face. One of the few warm expressions this overly serious child presented.
"Most of it is from my brother, but I also have a lot from Lily." The smile broadened even more, and his face got a little red as he watched the girl. Austria and Germany were nearly of height, the blond just centimeters smaller, but compared to Liechtenstein he had already taken lengths. "On the other hand, the descriptions I have gotten from my brother on the others were that 'Francis is nice when he isn't stupid', 'Arthur is a stiff moron who can't have fun' and 'Ivan is a psycho who deserves to die', so I have thought it best to form my own opinions."
Trying to keep a proper lady but just being a girl of 12, despite her age surpassing Germany's with a few hundreds, the giggling got louder. Liechtenstein's face had begun to redden. She wasn't acting like she should, and she did so right beside her father. A father who had spent all his life telling her to sit straight, eat right, sing great and read good literature. But though looking strict she knew he would never hit her, as she also knew he would do anything to make her happy.
These words and reflections from the blond lightened Austria's mood a lot, though. It seemed there was hope for this new member of their Germanic family, and Austria could nearly see their grandfather crack a smile at the sight of that obvious strength, strong logic and clear focus. Unlike the rest of them this man actually seemed a man Germania would be proud of. "Oh, I hope my daughter hasn't said too many bad things about me." His hand slipped onto her shoulder, and they both looked towards each other. Making a deep eye contact and both allowing a smile, just for the moment he allowed himself to touch her.
Germany just shook his head, not knowing how precious the moment in front of him was. "No, Lily has only spoken of you kindly. A great contrast to my brother, but I will not mention exactly what he has said."
The Austrian simply waved it off, knowing that indeed he wasn't interested in hearing his cousin's words. It was occurring to him that this person in front of him was already too strong and too clever to be overpowered and controlled. His new cousin would only work with the people he wished to work with himself, and unfortunately it seemed Prussia was among those people. It was of utmost importance that he connected with this man as soon as he could, before Prussia actually did destroy what he thought of him.
But for them to talk about it, it was also important for them to be alone. Even if he knew his daughter would never betray him, it was not for a lady to hear complicated things like alliances and agreements, and his eyes fell upon her, soft as velvet. "I think it would be best if you moved out for a dance, Lily." She looked up at him, then realized and smiled with a nod. Clever, she was, his little girl. Curtsying elegantly she turned around, her dress brushing over her fine, pale legs as she hurriedly walked away.
And it seemed the German was clever as well. He had caught up the moment she had, and his face was now wary of what the other man would ask of him. "What do you wish to speak of?" Somehow his voice had grown colder and Austria fixed the cravat around his neck, then shook his head.
"Gilbert warned you of this, didn't he? That I would speak to you." As stupid as he was, Prussia had learned a thing or two of his long lost leader, the so called 'Old Fritz'. The young blond gave him a long, assessing look, a sudden, slight uncertainty in the clear, blue eyes. Then there was a small nod, the younger's mood suddenly dropping despite the cheery sounds around them. And the Austrian nodded back, attempting to create a peaceful air. "I'm not angry. I'm simply interested in knowing whether or not I can expect your support in case of trouble."
Still looking stiffer than before, the young man was silent for another moment, looking over the Austrian with surprising sharpness. The few years the blond had behind him didn't show, and after getting scrutinized for nearly two minutes Austria was ready to accept that he wouldn't get the answer he had hoped for. Then Germany stuck out his hand, looking him in the eyes, and without caution or hesitation Austria caught it, tying the young man to his word.
"You, Graf Roderich, are of my family," the German curtly spoke. "As long as it is not against my brother, I will stay at your side."
The smallest of smiles reached Austria's lips and he made a small bow, knowing he had just secured an agreement with what would soon be one of the strongest countries among them. "I am pleased, young Ludwig."
The handshake was stopped abruptly, both withdrawing their hands when hurried footsteps got closer. Both were about to look who dared get closer when a hand swung around each of their shoulders. "What is my family planning without me?!" a hoarse voice yelled. A sharp whiff of alcohol reached Austria's nostrils, making him sniff a bit.
"We were simply talking, Gilbert," the Austrian answered, feeling a cold annoyance towards his dear, war-lusting cousin. The man always caused trouble, and he did it purposefully, intending all the conflict he created. Had it not been an informal, festive gathering, and had it not been practically a declaration of war to not invite him, Austria would have left him out of it.
The albino snorted, hitting him in the back like old war mates while he let go of his little brother. And though it might be true that they had seen war together it was rarely friendly. "You can talk with me, too! The party is boring without me!" He spoke as though he was the main attraction, and it was all Austria could do not to yell at him. The younger German withdrew a little, clearly uncomfortable by the tension emitting from the brunet. Tension either passing the white haired man by or getting deliberately ignored.
To the luck of them all the Austrian didn't get to utter an angry response. Unluckily a greater shadow moved upon them, and both of them turned to find a smiling giant. "Privyet," the newcomer announced, the smile on his face friendly and his eyes surprisingly soft. For the most part the nations knew Russia as a kind friend and deadly enemy, even if he lacked important understanding of personal space. "Is it possible for me to speak to you in alone?"
"Who of us?" the Prussian questioned, not at all trusting the giant nation. Russia was just one of many whom he had bad blood between.
The bigger man just smiled, as always. It wasn't a sick smile, but it gave you a feeling that he didn't know exactly when or how to stop. "Both of you. So the little Ludwig… that is your name, right?" The violet eyes darted over to youngest, studying him as all of them had done. His smile fell momentarily as though he was thoughtful, but it never disappeared. The child simply nodded, doing as he had been trained to and keeping calm. "The little Ludwig," the big man repeated, picking up where he stopped before, "must go out for a dance, da?"
It was clear Prussia wasn't feeling willing to comply, but not wanting to cause a scene – even if he had nearly caused one himself just a moment before – Austria placed a friendly hand on the young man's shoulder. "Why don't you go out and find my daughter? I'm sure she would love to dance with you, and that you would have a lot to talk about."
Giving his big brother a last look, Ludwig gave a small bow to all of them before slipping away, going for Liechtenstein just as he had been offered. Then the three of them turned to one another, the two German nations watching the Russian questioningly. "First of all I come here to apologize on behalf of my beloved Tsarina Maria for her absence, but she is in the last stages of pregnancy and my great Tsar Alexander deemed it unwise for her to come along." The big man gave a bow, still with that smile, and Austria was just about to tell him the apology was accepted when Prussia proved his usual lack of manners.
"You didn't have to keep me here if that was all you wanted," he complained, making the Russian look at him with a slightly disapproving frown above the smiling lips.
Then he chuckled, just slightly. Like he was presented some odd form of German humor he didn't honestly understand, and yet he laughed so he didn't wish to come off as rude. "Nyet, of course not. I came to ask you this, da! Have either of you caught Feliks yet?" Poland. The two Germans shared a look, then shook their heads. The escape of that troublesome nation has been an embarrassing loss for all three. "Eh, unfortunate. Toris has proven to be such a kind and comfortable servant, and I would have brought him along to show you since you helped me take him, but as long as Feliks is out there I won't let him get out of Russia.
We can't have him get ideas, da?"
A slight cool swept over the two Germans as the man momentarily summoned a darker atmosphere with a far lighter tone of voice. Over the years they've all seen the change of Russia, how he slowly seemed to degenerate as his lands grew bigger, but none wished to do anything. Few knew him personally and even fewer liked him, so few had any interest in caring for him. "I sincerely apologize, but I haven't heard of him since we partitioned his lands," the Austrian managed to properly answer after collecting himself.
The Prussian nation couldn't help but snort. "The weakling probably died, ja? He has no land left, and so he died! That's why we haven't found him. His body rotted away! Countries can't live without land." There was a deep contempt in his voice. A great anger. But Poland was the nation who had kept the geographical Preussen under control for centuries, keeping it even after Prussia had proclaimed the land to be his.
At that Austria's nose wrinkled disgustedly while Russia simply smiled on, batting his eyes joyfully. "Then I'll take little Toris along next time." The albino nation seemed to tune them out, instead watching Elizaveta as she turned down a dance with Francis. The French nation was currently following her around insulted while she smirked and Arthur sniggered on the side. "I hope you will be holding balls similar to these again, little Roderich, that we get invited to, da~."
This was at least something Prussia heard, and he started laughing loud enough for people in the ballroom to stop for a second and roll their eyes. Hopeless, unmannered fighting nation. How the host and he could be cousins was a wonder. "Who would you then be married to at that party, Roddy?"
An irritated sniff entered Austria's nostrils while the Russian curiously tilted his head to the side, watching their interaction. "What is that for a thing to say? I was happily married just today."
"And what's that? Your fifth happy marriage? Sixth? Tenth?" The Prussian was still laughing while Roderich's lips grew as thin as his patience. Still a pair of violet eyes shifted between the two.
"The past is of no concern for the present, Gilbert, and if you keep talking like this I'll have to ask you to-"
"To what? Put my tongue between your beautiful, well-rounded, usually kicked cheeks? As if!"
Ivan sniggered. Roderich, on the other hand, widened his eyes and straightened his back, his hands curling into fists. "Watch your language under my roof, you uncultured, barbaric-"
"E-excuse me…?"
All three turned, Roderich's eyes shooting lightening while Gilbert stuck out formerly mentioned tongue at him. The new presence proved to be a simple human female, a servant of the Austrian court, who was awfully intimidated by the three majestic males. "Ja?" Roderich harshly said.
"A-a man has arrived, Graf Edelstein… H-he said he was a-a guest, th-that he was invited, b-but we aren't certain. A-and he hasn't said his name, saying it's none of our concern…" An annoyed frown formed on the Austrian's face while Gilbert moved closer, curious. Behind them Ivan sent the girl a friendly smile in an attempt to comfort her, making her shivering even worse.
"A man?" Who hadn't said his name? "Does he have an invitation?"
Moving closer to the two German nations and shifting away from the Russian, the human tried to regain her ability to speak. "J-ja, a-a man. A-and he doesn't hold, b-but… He said he sent it back when he received it... die Kämmerer thought it best t-to ask you… He doesn't… he doesn't look like he's invited."
For another moment Roderich stood with that annoyed and confused frown, clearly unable to figure out who of the invited were missing in the room. Then shock spread like a bucket of ice water, his mouth opening agape. "H-how does he look?" he managed to breathe, eyes wide and hands unclenched again. W-was… was it true?
"He…" All three people around him were incapable of understanding the sudden change. He went from the usual furious aura he gained from being around Prussia too long to so relieved he looked about to faint. "He's young… and not very tall… blond, a-and his hair is pretty long. And his eyes…" The more she spoke the further his shoulders fell. "They are a vivid green." As she said it his mouth formed exactly those words.
Then he took the first breath since realizing who his newest guest might be, moved past the human and leaving behind the rest of the room, fully unnoticed by any other guest present at his wedding. Only Prussia and Russia were aware that he left, and the Prussian took a long moment to stare after him. Then he slipped through the crowd, ignoring everyone but the bride. "Oi, Lizzy!" he whispered, catching her attention. "Are you expecting any more guests?"
Searchingly her eyes moved over the crowd, looking through the faces. "No, I don't think so," she finally concluded, looking back at him again. "Why?"
"Well, your little new wife just chose to leave. Eh…" Both pairs of eyes shifted back to the door, neither able to decipher what he intended.
The human servant followed after him to show the way, leading him not to the entrance hall but outside of it, into the yard. "H-he didn't want to come in," the human explained slowly as she opened the door, the Kämmerer waiting there with a displeased look on his face.
But it didn't surpass the cold expression on the newcomer's face. His arms were crossed in the growing darkness, the air getting colder as night took hold of the palace. Everything about him, from eyes to heart to stance and feet, was carved in granite.
"I want to talk to him alone." It was a command the humans were not likely to follow. Even so they did upon seeing the nod from their own nation, shuffling inside again while the actual happiness filling Roderich's chest evaporated when presented with the cold air around the physically young man. His stance was bordering to aggressive, matching his stone hard eyes.
The moment no human was near Roderich took the initiative to speak. "Why are we waiting out here, Vash, you must-"
"Don't call me that."
The aggressiveness continued into his voice, his words demanding. Already now it sparked annoyance in the Austrian, not to mention deep disappointment.
"I would like to remind you that we are among… 'normal' people, Mr. Zwingli." He tried to keep the tone sober. Tried to hold etiquette. Tried to be friendly. This… This wasn't what he wanted. It was not what he hoped for, not what he expected when he chose to invite the man. Couldn't they just… not argue?
"I don't know how normal you can call the humans here."
"What is that supposed to- Nein, never mind, it doesn't matter." He stopped himself. There was no reason to encourage the lesser- no, this other man's rage. "Mr. Zwingli, you can come inside if you please. You must be exhausted after your journey." Keep it civil. Keep it civil. Don't lose your cool.
"No, I don't please," the Swiss growled, once more in the aggressive tone which dared you to argue with him. All hopes, in that moment, were lost. It wasn't possible, none of it.
Was there even anything to save?
So instead of being open, kind and welcoming Roderich let false expectations, cruel hopes and idiotic emotions, fall to the floor like the sheets of a failed symphony, and instead of writing a piece with happiness and new beginnings it became an old repetition of an old story. Cold eyes met, all attempts of a peaceful clash failed.
"Your people are rude," the Swiss finished. "I see no reason why I should enter before I get an apology."
"Rude? How can you speak of rude when you greet me in that tone?! Why are you even here if all you plan on doing is insulting me and cause trouble? I won't give you an apology before you tell me you are sorry for acting like a barbaric lowlife."
"Me? Being sorry? Apparently my choice of clothes doesn't fit your servants' liking!"
Taking a moment to realize what the man was actually wearing Austria snorted. Not because it was bad, no, for he was dressed finely… it was simply his normal work outfit, unfitting the current occasion. "Obviously they react like that - your clothes are absolutely unacceptable." The Austrian was aware that statement was unfair. He simply no longer cared. None of it mattered.
The same went the other way. They attempted to provoke each other, and they let themselves be provoked. "I went as far as washing my clothes. You expect me to buy a whole new set of clothes for your stupid wedding? Shit if I'm going to conform to your wishes!" This thing with clothes made him surprisingly heated compared to the fact that it were simply fabrics. "All you do is a waste of money!"
Those words took their toll on the Austrian. Money was not something he wasted, it was something he cherished. All he actually bought was bought with care and thought, none on a whim even if everything was beautiful. It was absolutely necessary, all of it. "I do not waste money! All I do is carefully done, and I make sure to get the most out of my price! Just because I won't let myself be comfortable with linen and similar scratchy fabrics I'm not wasting my money."
"So this is not a waste?!" the smaller nation yelled, gesturing at the enormous building, the music coming from within and the enticing smell of delicious food. "All of this is of absolute need for your pompous ass to flourish?!"
The Austrian's face flushed, his lips growing thin. "Indeed it is," he answered in a calm voice, frozen by rage. "We can't all live in isolated sheds like uncultured savages."
"I am not uncultured! I have my own music! My own buildings and own books! But that," he growled, gesturing for the building again, "is utterly stupid! And that I'm a farmer doesn't make me a savage – I actually know how to do honest labor!"
Both looked enraged, the smaller and more physical of them ready to jump the bigger. Neither of them were too fond of the situation. "I do work, you petty-"
"How often do you sprain your wrist by writing your own name?"
"Ack, uh, excuse me? I'm surprised you can even spell out yours."
"I can do that while making my own food."
"I guess not all of us have the qualifications of leadership."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Simply that I am capable of having people do such dreary tasks for me, but enough of that." The Austrian crossed his arms, forcing down a deep breath to cool himself off. "Why are you even here if all you do is insult me? This brings us nowhere."
A softening actually reached the Swiss man's face before he looked away, crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively. For the longest moment he stared at the ground, a battle of emotions fought upon his face. Then finally he looked up, his face once more cold, and his arms fell down his sides again. "I came to tell you not to contact me again." It was said with no hesitation, his voice as empty as his face and hard as his eyes. "I don't care what goes on in your life. It is none of my concern, and for you to even consider it to be is an insulting display of megalomania.
We have no reason to talk. You are a queasy noble asshole; I'm a common farmer and a business man. You live in a castle, surrounding yourself with unnecessities while I work my palms rough, and it has been like that for hundreds of years. If you want to marry some random girl," at that Austria opened his mouth to argue, but Switzerland simply lifted his hand, "go ahead, but do it without me. Especially when all you can tell me is that my clothes aren't fit for your company."
Once more Austria attempted to speak, not truly understanding the feeling in his chest. Brick after brick seemed to load upon his heart, weighing it down to put pressure on his stomach. But once more, Switzerland shook his head. "No, don't say anything! I'm not finished!" He seemed to get hotheaded again, his hands curling into fists. "Our paths got divided, and you are the person to thank for that! Now you come here, acting like everything can be forgotten, but I know people like you – I am one of them! None of us do anything without making sure we gain something, and most of us are ready to sacrifice another for it, and there is no way – no, way – that I will allow anyone to step on me!"
His foot hit the ground hard, as he stomped like a ferocious animal. The stones in Austria's stomach made it harder and harder for him to even feel his insides, slowly growing numb against the cold words. "But V-Vash…"
"Non!" The other yelled again, taking a dangerous step forward. "Don't call me that!" For another short second he just stood there, staring and panting hard. Then he turned his body away. "If you contact me again, do it to make business with me, not as some personal façade to cover your game. I'm not playing with you." And his face as well, no longer looking at him. "I'm neutral exactly because I don't want to play with you. I'm not a part of your game for power, so don't try to drag me in. If you want to trade I'm ready. But now, I'm leaving."
And he did, the gravel under his feet crunching more and more faintly the further he moved away.
Roderich just stared, unable to even run after him and inform him it was improper to tell people such things at the day of their wedding, unable to go back inside and smile with the façade he had kept until just 20 minutes ago. He could feel their relationship slipping between his fingers. It had died years and years ago, but this very night, in the last light of the sun, they held its funeral.
A part of him wanted to cry. The shock was simply too great for him to do so. This was not what he expected of today. This was not what he had expected of any day. He hadn't hoped for their relationship to become great, but for his wedding to become its funeral was not in his calendar.
Like a ghost he floated back inside. His humans, his servants, were waiting just behind the door, and with the tiniest bit of anger he dismissed them. Going back towards the ballroom he realized he couldn't go in there before he pulled himself together.
When taking a deep breath and closing his eyes he found out he wasn't able to.
Floating back towards the entrance, empty inside, he heard footsteps from behind, escaping the noise of his party. Turning around, not expecting to care, he met the sight of his darling daughter looking at him with concern.
"D-dad, are you alright?" she whispered, moving over and taking his hands. Hers were so soft, like silk, and warm like summer. Staring into his eyes he knew she saw his pain, as he knew she wished it gone, and for that he had to smile.
"J-ja… mein Liebling. As long as you are here I am always alright." Cupping her face he pulled it closer, kissing her forehead for the longest moment as a single tear finally escaped his eyes. As he moved backwards he dried it away with his sleeve, seeing the growing worry in her orbs. "It is not for you to worry, dear. It is gone already." His arm around her to lead her back inside, going through the doors.
Within many pairs of eyes followed him, but he simply gave them one of his normal, polite smiles to reassure them nothing was wrong. All eyes moved away – all but one pair of greens. Hungary… his wife. He wasn't alone. All wasn't lost. He had his daughter, and he had his dear wife.
Want to remind you, despite it being a fic about Switzerland, this is mainly Austria's point of view. If you wish for me to write the other side and show Vash' side of this wedding, please do tell and I may write it. But for now...
Enjoy in joy ^^