❝i got a temper set for tender and you were shrugging it off like a feather❞
Title: Kaiserlich und Königlich
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Words: 2,800+
Characters: Austria/Hungary ;; Germany ;; Prussia ;; France ;; Britain ;; Russia ;; Poland
Rating: PG
Warnings: Blood, alcohol, intentional slight historical inaccuracies…
Summary: After the fall of the Central Powers to the Allies in World War I, the Austro-Hungarian Empire is forced into pieces as part of the peace settlements. But how do the numerous treaties affect the losers of the war? And, most importantly, how will Austria and Hungary’s relationship be changed by this ‘divorce’?
Kaiserlich und Königlich
I read in the paper today
It’s been a record year for rainfall
And you were leaning ‘gainst the bathroom wall
In your lonely dress
Was your only dress
Stand accusing across
I got a temper set for tender
And you were shrugging it off like a feather
Saying, “Oh…
Would you look at this weather?”
What’s the use of all of this?
It’s to remember you in the entire
Cause I’m watching it slip away
And in the annals of the empire
Did it look this gray
Before the fall?
He thought that the waiting, more than anything, would kill him. Roderich had spent the past few hours in his study, his head braced in his hands. The man’s face was a picture of desolation; his dark eyes were wide and hopeless, his lips pale, his hair disheveled. There was no sound to be heard, except for the distinct pitter-patter of raindrops against the roof of his house.
“…Austria?”
He looked up when he heard his name, his eyebrows immediately curving downwards into a glare. Who dared disturb him at a time like this?
“Germany?” Roderich couldn’t say that he had been expecting that. Ludwig shrugged lightly as he crossed the threshold to join Roderich. He was still in military uniform; there were tears on his sleeves and bloodstains on his chest. Roderich looked pointedly at his feet, indicating he wasn’t much in the mood for conversation.
“Hey-I’m talking to you,” Ludwig grunted, a touch of temper flaring in his voice. Still, for the most part, he sounded like Roderich looked-tired, weary, and defeated.
“What’s left to talk about?” Roderich demanded blandly, not looking up to meet the other nation’s gaze. “Well, Germany? What good is talking going to do now?”
Ludwig’s face was a set, determined mask. Despite his scars, he didn’t look weak-compared to Roderich, in his ruff and elaborate cloak, he seemed like the picture of a competent, successful soldier. Only he wasn’t, now; he couldn’t be.
“I just came to warn you,” Ludwig persisted, “they’ve decided my fate, and my brother’s. They’re sure to move onto you, next.”
What little color there was in Roderich’s face was bleached out at Ludwig’s words. His fists clenched against his sides, his knuckles standing out a stark white. He pursed his lips together tightly, painfully, for a moment before he spoke.
“And…?” he managed to gasp.
Ludwig let out an ambiguous noise, halfway between a grunt and a scoff. He sounded almost rueful as he spoke again. “I suppose they’ve been generous.”
Mad for more information, Roderich gave in. He looked up into Ludwig’s eyes and said, “And?”
“They want reparations, of course; I knew they would. Britain’s being pretty fair, I guess, but that bastard France, well…” Ludwig’s voice was cut off by a rough chuckle, empty of humor.
“Out with it!” Roderich demanded. His voice hadn’t risen, but there was an intensity in it that Ludwig couldn’t ignore.
“It’s all my fault, apparently. This whole war, that we’ve been fighting for five years, with god knows how many countries, is my fault. I’ve accepted the sole blame.”
For an instant, something like hope lit up in Roderich’s eyes. Ludwig must have seen it, for he shook his head curtly.
“I don’t think that means you’re off the hook, Austria.” Was it Roderich’s imagination, or did he actually sound pitying?
“What else?” Roderich asked. “They can’t be content with just nominally giving you the blame.”
“They aren’t. Wilhelm’s going to be tried as a war criminal; and my government is basically gone. France and Britain have jointed custody of my non-militarized lands, now. Oh, and France wants two hundred and twenty-six billion Reichmarks, in gold.”
“Two hundred and twenty-six billion? That’s insane, Germany-there’s no way you can pay that.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Ludwig snapped. “Anyhow, get ready-now that they’ve taken care of me, they’ll be on to you next.”
For an moment, Roderich had forgotten. As Ludwig’s words reminded him, he pursed his lips together.
“They’re going to force us to separate, aren’t they?”
“…America’s said that he’ll support Czechoslovakia if he wants to leave you.”
“I see.” His empire had been no more than a dozen mismatched puzzle pieces for decades, now; but still-“And…Hungary?”
“I’m sorry.” Ludwig’s voice was brisk. “I don’t know.”
“No, I apologize,” Roderich amended. “You must have your own problems to worry about, now.” They sat in silence for a moment in Roderich’s study-Austria and Germany, old adversaries and allies. The gravity of Ludwig’s fate and the question of Roderich’s hung in the air between them, almost palpable. Finally, Ludwig turned to leave.
His back turned to Roderich, he mumbled, “Don’t shame the Central Powers by acting weak, Austria. Whatever it is, we’ll all be alright in the end.”
Then he left, leaving Roderich to wonder if the words had been spoken more for Austria’s benefit, or Ludwig’s own.
---
“Now, Austria, if you’ll just sign here…” Francis held the documents towards Roderich, something of a smug smile on his face.
Roderich took the papers and looked down at them blandly, then up at the rest of the nations present. Arthur’s face was severe and serious, but not unkind, Roderich thought. Ivan was standing up, some ways from the table, looking out a window so that Roderich couldn’t make out his expression. There were others present, as well; but they’d been asked to leave the actual signing to their leaders, and they had agreed. Alfred was the only one not present; he had walked out of the proceedings some weeks ago, unable to agree to terms.
“I understand that Germany asked you to join him,” Arthur said suddenly, just before Roderich reached for the fountain pen in Francis’ outstretched hand.
“He did.”
“You understand that we can’t allow the two of you to ally yourselves again, at least not without the League’s approval,” Arthur continued. “You cannot call yourself ‘German Austria’.”
Roderich nodded dumbly. He hadn’t really expected the Allies to allow such a thing. It had been more of a token gesture on Ludwig’s part, offering to let Roderich stay with him in Berlin. Perhaps he’d thought that Roderich would get lonely, now.
“I understand.” His voice was low and staid. He reached for the pen again, signing his name with his accustomed flourish. There was only one difference, now; for the first time in seventy years, he hadn’t written “k.u.k, Österreich-Ungarn”; today, his name was merely “Bundesstaat Österreich.”
“Well, that’s settled,” Francis said, glancing over the signatures. “Austria, consider yourself officially out of the Great War.”
“…” Roderich didn’t respond; had he been of a more sarcastic nature, he might have had a witty comeback. As it stood, he merely rose achingly to his feet and headed for the door. As his hand gripped the doorknob, he turned around and, before he could control his words, he gasped out, “About Hungary-”
“Oh, she signed the Treaty of Trianon weeks ago,” Francis said idly, waving a hand. “She’s out of the war, too.”
“I see.” With that, Roderich fled from the room.
---
“…‘The Lansing Note?’…” Roderich scoffed. “It’d be better called my death warrant…” He gripped the bottle by the neck and took a long swig of it, almost enjoying the hot gush of liquid down his throat. His glasses had long since fallen from his face, so his nearsightedness combined with the blurring of senses, leaving the world a hazy mist.
“Hey, you damn aristocrat! Don’t finish it!” Gilbert grabbed the bottle from Roderich’s hands and gulped it down heartily. He set it aside after a moment and let out a hollow laugh. “That little bastard America really showed you, didn’t he?”
Roderich glared at Gilbert. He was trying to look fearsome; to any passerby he would’ve seemed on the verge of tears. “I think I need it more than you do,” he grabbed the bottle back. “And just wait-one day, I’ll show that kid who’s boss…” His voice trailed off, cut off by a bought of hiccupping a few moments later.
“Hey!” Ludwig’s voice was angry and sharp. “Don’t act like you’re the only one with problems, Austria!” Roderich couldn’t discern whether Ludwig was giving him an order or bemoaning his own fate.
“Yah-look at what me and West have to deal with!” Gilbert declared. He grabbed back the bottle and tried to drink, only to find it empty. Frowning, he groped around on the floor until he found another, ripping out the cork unceremoniously and began chugging.
The three nations-all of them the losers of the first Great War-were leaned against the side of a couch. Gilbert was nearly upside-down, sprawled with his legs against the loveseat. Ludwig was more upright; his torso was slouched against the couch, his feet ending up somewhere near Gilbert’s head. Roderich was nearly lying down; he was surrounded by half-empty bottles and a series of ripped sheet music.
“Why did you two come here tonight, anyway?” Roderich asked, suspicious. Gilbert and Ludwig exchanged guilty looks.
“None of your business,” Ludwig decided. “I had beer and that bastard Russia sent me the Vodka as a ‘gift.’ I needed someone to drink it.”
Gilbert was a bit more forth-coming. “I’m the only one who’s allowed to mess with you, you stupid aristocrat. Those bastards will pay for hitting my favorite punching bag…” With that, he kicked Roderich sounded in the chest, sending the drunken Austrian sprawling back a few feet.
Roderich coughed and attempted to rise to his feet. “What the hell was that for?” he demanded.
“Hey-someone needed to get you back on your feet.”
Roderich swayed, bracing himself against the wall. Despite the pounding headache and the spinning room, he was actually thinking. And he was thinking that Gilbert may have had a point.
---
“Hey!”
Roderich ignored the voice and kept walking, one foot in front of the other.
“Hey!”
His footsteps grew quicker, the cobblestoned path flying by beneath him. He kept his eyes on his feet, not daring to look behind him.
“Seriously, Austria-wait up!” A hand gripped his shoulder and turned him around, forcing Roderich to gaze into Feliks Lukasiewicz’s penetrating eyes.
“Let go of me.” Roderick slapped Feliks’ hand away, preparing to continue down the street.
“Geez-you are such a drama queen, you know that?”
Roderich rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. Still, it seemed that Feliks had more to say, and he’d never be rid of him if he didn’t hear him out. Tapping one foot impatiently, Roderich began to clean his glasses as Feliks continued.
“Hungary’s looking for you.”
His heart leapt in his chest. Still, his frown deepened. “That’s it?” he asked blandly.
“Well…yah.” Feliks seemed disappointed that Roderich hadn’t reacted. “Don’t you wanna see her?”
“Hungary and Austria are two separate countries now, Poland,” Roderich muttered with stressed patience. “We trade a little, we vote together sometimes in the League, and we share a border. That is the extent of our relationship. If we were to have any political dealings, I expect the Allies would have to be involved.”
Feliks gave Roderich a knowing smile. “Come on, Austria-it’s been a year since you two split up. Why are you still so embarrassed?”
“…are you flaunting?” Roderich asked with quiet intensity.
“Huh?”
“Are you attempting to get revenge for the partitions, or something? Did you hate living in Vienna so much? Why are you so intent to throw your happiness in my face, Poland? I am humbled, and I know it. Why can’t we leave it at that?”
“Dude, you need to chill. I don’t care about any of that. It was, like, more Russia and Prussia’s fault that yours, anyway. Hungary just told me to talk to you, so I did. She’s a pal, y’know, from when we both lived at your place.”
“Why would she want to see me?” He was asking the question more rhetorically than anything else, but Feliks still answered.
“Beats me. As far as I can tell, you weren’t the best husband, or anything.”
“I was the worst husband.” Roderich’s words were final and full of conviction.
“Oh, really? I bet Liet would challenge that.” Feliks laughed. Seeing Roderich’s puzzled gaze, he continued. “I wasn’t all that great of a husband either, y’know. But me and Liet are still pals.”
“…you are, aren’t you?” Roderich asked, his words full of wonder.
“Sure, we’re best buds.” Feliks’ smile was lit with intimacy. “So why can’t you and Hungary be the same?”
“It’s not the same,” Roderich insisted.
Feliks pulled a face. “Why not?”
“Because I broke my promise!” Roderich shot back. “We had a deal, alright? I was supposed to take care of her, and protect her! And what did I do? I ended up getting us into this damn war which took her away from me! How am I supposed to go back to her now? Why would she even want to see me?”
“Seriously, Austria-you take everything way too seriously.”
“Don’t mock me!” Roderich’s voice was heated with anger and pain.
“I’m not. I’m telling you the truth. Just ‘cause you aren’t married, you think you can’t even see her? You think that Hungary really cares about any of that-dude, she likes you. She’s put up with you for like, hundreds of years. You really think she blames you for this?”
“I would, if I were her.”
“Well, you’re not. If you and she were the same, you wouldn’t like each other so much. Hungary wants to see you, Austria.”
“…she does….?”
Feliks huffed. “What’ve I been telling you? Now get off your butt and go see her.”
Roderich nodded dumbly and turned around. He wasn’t going home anymore, though; he was headed for Budapest.
---
She was seated by the window, dressed in simple forest green. Her long, wavy hair tumbled about her shoulders; a soft half-smile played on her lips. The light from the window lit up her face and made her hair look the color of honey: soft, rich, and gleaming. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her, and Roderich found himself frozen in the doorway, unable to move forward nor back.
“You’re not coming in…?” she asked, a sad lilt to her voice. She had seen him; her jade eyes were now fixed upon his.
“O-of course,” he mumbled, amazed at how easily he fell back into his position as the aloof, arrogant superior. He crossed into the room in three quick strides, standing a few feet away from her.
They stared at one other for a moment. Roderich was amazed that nothing had changed about her; he had been sure that being Hungarian Democratic Republic would make her look and seem entirely different. But they never really did change, did they?
“You’ve kept this place well,” he said, not quite approving. “You're doing alright?”
“Y-yes,” she replied carefully, perhaps a bit too quickly. A pale blush colored her cheeks, and Roderich wondered, in amazement: she’s nervous? Why?
“Austria…” she mumbled, just as he said, “Listen, Hungary…”
They both cut off abruptly, waiting for the other to finish speaking. Her blush reddened, and she mumbled, “I’m sorry-please continue!”
“No, you spoke first,” he insisted, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. It was a stalemate; they waited in silence for a moment, then two. Finally, Roderich muttered, “I’m sorry.”
“What?” She hadn’t heard him, he’d spoken so low.
“I’m sorry!” His voice rang out louder than he’d intended, amplified by nervousness.
“Why?” She sounded utterly baffled.
“…I failed you, and I’m sorry,” he muttered. “This whole stupid war was my fault, you know, and I just wanted to say that I know you must hate me now, and I don’t blame you for that.”
“Hate you?” Now she sounded angry; as well she should be. Roderich offered her something of a short bow; nation to nation, equal to equal-then he turned to leave.
“Get back here,” she snapped, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder. “How can you just walk away from me?”
There was a strangled pain in her voice that he’d never heard before. Startled, he turned, only to find tears pooling in her dark eyes.
“…you’re sorry?” she asked sardonically. “When I’m the one who abandoned you? Austria…I…I…you don’t even know how sorry I am!”
“Hungary,” Roderich voice came out a low whistle, colored by amazement.
A tear trickled down Elizaveta’s cheek, and then the rest of her tears spilled over. Suddenly, she’d risen from her chair. He had no time to respond as she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around her shaking form, wondering how he had lived for the past year without being able to touch her.
“You don’t get to be sorry,” she told him, speaking into his chest, still. “You have to be angry, Austria-you emphatically do not have to forgive me.”
He stoked her hair, wondering at how they’d ended up like this. She didn’t blame him-she didn’t blame him!
“It’s…alright,” he soothed in his staid, stern voice. “It’s going to be alright now…Elizaveta.”
As he spoke her name, he felt her smile. “Roderich…”
They could never be the Austro-Hungarian Empire again; the Allies would have never allowed it. But at that moment, it seemed as though any of the world’s outside opinions didn’t matter, anymore. Maybe that was the feeling that seized Roderich as he gently touched Hungary’s cheek. Perhaps it was that hope that filled him as he raised her face to his. And, possibly, the same idea crossed her mind as his lips met hers, and they kissed for the first time in what seemed to have been an eternity.
---
Footnotes:
* The opening lyrics were taken from a song by the Decembrists called "A Record Year for Rainfall."
* Kaiserlich und königlich literally translates to “imperial and royal.” The phrase is mostly used in reference to Austrian and Austo-Hungarian Empires; it was the moniker of the Royal Hapsburgs.
* The Austro-Hungarian Empire existed from about 1867-1918, though the Austrian Empire had been around for much longer. I consider the time spent under the name of “Austro-Hungary” to be Roderich and Elizaveta’s “marriage.”
* The Treaty of Versailles was signed by the Allies (minus the United States) and Germany, officially ending World War I. It established the League of Nations, accused Germany’s leader, Wilhelm II, of war crimes, and established Germany as weak, shrunken, debtor nation. Most importantly, it placed all the blame for WWI on Germany’s shoulders and planted the seeds of WWII.
* The Treaty of Saint Germain-en-Laye is the treaty that Austria signs in Scene II, with France and Britain. Historically, this treat was between the Allies and Austria, and it officially dismantled the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
* The term “ k.u.k, Österreich-Ungarn” literally means “imperial and noble, Austria-Hungary.” It’s Austria’s name for himself in his own language. Likewise, “Bundesstaat Österreich” means “the Republic of Austria”-essentially, his demoted title.
* The Treaty of Trianon was an analogous treaty to Saint Germain, only between the newly-formed Hungarian Republic and the Allies. Actually, it was signed about six months after Saint Germian; I changed the chronology in this fic for the sake of the plot.
* The Lansing Note refers to US Secretary of State Robert Lansing, and his declaration that the US would support any ethnic group in Austria if they wanted their own country.
* The Partitions of Poland occurred roughly between 1772 and 1795. Russia, Prussia, and Austria all got together and decided to take Poland’s vital regions for themselves; needless to say Poland wasn’t pleased.
* The treaties in this fic are distinctly out of order, to keep the focus on Austria. The true chronology is Saint Germain, Trianon, and then Versailles.
* Poland was a part of the Austo-Hungarian Empire, but not all of it. Therefore, Feliks may not have actually lived in Roderich’s house; this is just an assumption on my part.
* When Hungary says she “abandoned” Austria, she’s referring to the fact that the Hungarian people actually decided that they wanted their own country in the middle of WWI-they sort of did abandon the Austrians, though no one can really blame them for doing so.
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Words: 2,800+
Characters: Austria/Hungary ;; Germany ;; Prussia ;; France ;; Britain ;; Russia ;; Poland
Rating: PG
Warnings: Blood, alcohol, intentional slight historical inaccuracies…
Summary: After the fall of the Central Powers to the Allies in World War I, the Austro-Hungarian Empire is forced into pieces as part of the peace settlements. But how do the numerous treaties affect the losers of the war? And, most importantly, how will Austria and Hungary’s relationship be changed by this ‘divorce’?
Kaiserlich und Königlich
I read in the paper today
It’s been a record year for rainfall
And you were leaning ‘gainst the bathroom wall
In your lonely dress
Was your only dress
Stand accusing across
I got a temper set for tender
And you were shrugging it off like a feather
Saying, “Oh…
Would you look at this weather?”
What’s the use of all of this?
It’s to remember you in the entire
Cause I’m watching it slip away
And in the annals of the empire
Did it look this gray
Before the fall?
He thought that the waiting, more than anything, would kill him. Roderich had spent the past few hours in his study, his head braced in his hands. The man’s face was a picture of desolation; his dark eyes were wide and hopeless, his lips pale, his hair disheveled. There was no sound to be heard, except for the distinct pitter-patter of raindrops against the roof of his house.
“…Austria?”
He looked up when he heard his name, his eyebrows immediately curving downwards into a glare. Who dared disturb him at a time like this?
“Germany?” Roderich couldn’t say that he had been expecting that. Ludwig shrugged lightly as he crossed the threshold to join Roderich. He was still in military uniform; there were tears on his sleeves and bloodstains on his chest. Roderich looked pointedly at his feet, indicating he wasn’t much in the mood for conversation.
“Hey-I’m talking to you,” Ludwig grunted, a touch of temper flaring in his voice. Still, for the most part, he sounded like Roderich looked-tired, weary, and defeated.
“What’s left to talk about?” Roderich demanded blandly, not looking up to meet the other nation’s gaze. “Well, Germany? What good is talking going to do now?”
Ludwig’s face was a set, determined mask. Despite his scars, he didn’t look weak-compared to Roderich, in his ruff and elaborate cloak, he seemed like the picture of a competent, successful soldier. Only he wasn’t, now; he couldn’t be.
“I just came to warn you,” Ludwig persisted, “they’ve decided my fate, and my brother’s. They’re sure to move onto you, next.”
What little color there was in Roderich’s face was bleached out at Ludwig’s words. His fists clenched against his sides, his knuckles standing out a stark white. He pursed his lips together tightly, painfully, for a moment before he spoke.
“And…?” he managed to gasp.
Ludwig let out an ambiguous noise, halfway between a grunt and a scoff. He sounded almost rueful as he spoke again. “I suppose they’ve been generous.”
Mad for more information, Roderich gave in. He looked up into Ludwig’s eyes and said, “And?”
“They want reparations, of course; I knew they would. Britain’s being pretty fair, I guess, but that bastard France, well…” Ludwig’s voice was cut off by a rough chuckle, empty of humor.
“Out with it!” Roderich demanded. His voice hadn’t risen, but there was an intensity in it that Ludwig couldn’t ignore.
“It’s all my fault, apparently. This whole war, that we’ve been fighting for five years, with god knows how many countries, is my fault. I’ve accepted the sole blame.”
For an instant, something like hope lit up in Roderich’s eyes. Ludwig must have seen it, for he shook his head curtly.
“I don’t think that means you’re off the hook, Austria.” Was it Roderich’s imagination, or did he actually sound pitying?
“What else?” Roderich asked. “They can’t be content with just nominally giving you the blame.”
“They aren’t. Wilhelm’s going to be tried as a war criminal; and my government is basically gone. France and Britain have jointed custody of my non-militarized lands, now. Oh, and France wants two hundred and twenty-six billion Reichmarks, in gold.”
“Two hundred and twenty-six billion? That’s insane, Germany-there’s no way you can pay that.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Ludwig snapped. “Anyhow, get ready-now that they’ve taken care of me, they’ll be on to you next.”
For an moment, Roderich had forgotten. As Ludwig’s words reminded him, he pursed his lips together.
“They’re going to force us to separate, aren’t they?”
“…America’s said that he’ll support Czechoslovakia if he wants to leave you.”
“I see.” His empire had been no more than a dozen mismatched puzzle pieces for decades, now; but still-“And…Hungary?”
“I’m sorry.” Ludwig’s voice was brisk. “I don’t know.”
“No, I apologize,” Roderich amended. “You must have your own problems to worry about, now.” They sat in silence for a moment in Roderich’s study-Austria and Germany, old adversaries and allies. The gravity of Ludwig’s fate and the question of Roderich’s hung in the air between them, almost palpable. Finally, Ludwig turned to leave.
His back turned to Roderich, he mumbled, “Don’t shame the Central Powers by acting weak, Austria. Whatever it is, we’ll all be alright in the end.”
Then he left, leaving Roderich to wonder if the words had been spoken more for Austria’s benefit, or Ludwig’s own.
---
“Now, Austria, if you’ll just sign here…” Francis held the documents towards Roderich, something of a smug smile on his face.
Roderich took the papers and looked down at them blandly, then up at the rest of the nations present. Arthur’s face was severe and serious, but not unkind, Roderich thought. Ivan was standing up, some ways from the table, looking out a window so that Roderich couldn’t make out his expression. There were others present, as well; but they’d been asked to leave the actual signing to their leaders, and they had agreed. Alfred was the only one not present; he had walked out of the proceedings some weeks ago, unable to agree to terms.
“I understand that Germany asked you to join him,” Arthur said suddenly, just before Roderich reached for the fountain pen in Francis’ outstretched hand.
“He did.”
“You understand that we can’t allow the two of you to ally yourselves again, at least not without the League’s approval,” Arthur continued. “You cannot call yourself ‘German Austria’.”
Roderich nodded dumbly. He hadn’t really expected the Allies to allow such a thing. It had been more of a token gesture on Ludwig’s part, offering to let Roderich stay with him in Berlin. Perhaps he’d thought that Roderich would get lonely, now.
“I understand.” His voice was low and staid. He reached for the pen again, signing his name with his accustomed flourish. There was only one difference, now; for the first time in seventy years, he hadn’t written “k.u.k, Österreich-Ungarn”; today, his name was merely “Bundesstaat Österreich.”
“Well, that’s settled,” Francis said, glancing over the signatures. “Austria, consider yourself officially out of the Great War.”
“…” Roderich didn’t respond; had he been of a more sarcastic nature, he might have had a witty comeback. As it stood, he merely rose achingly to his feet and headed for the door. As his hand gripped the doorknob, he turned around and, before he could control his words, he gasped out, “About Hungary-”
“Oh, she signed the Treaty of Trianon weeks ago,” Francis said idly, waving a hand. “She’s out of the war, too.”
“I see.” With that, Roderich fled from the room.
---
“…‘The Lansing Note?’…” Roderich scoffed. “It’d be better called my death warrant…” He gripped the bottle by the neck and took a long swig of it, almost enjoying the hot gush of liquid down his throat. His glasses had long since fallen from his face, so his nearsightedness combined with the blurring of senses, leaving the world a hazy mist.
“Hey, you damn aristocrat! Don’t finish it!” Gilbert grabbed the bottle from Roderich’s hands and gulped it down heartily. He set it aside after a moment and let out a hollow laugh. “That little bastard America really showed you, didn’t he?”
Roderich glared at Gilbert. He was trying to look fearsome; to any passerby he would’ve seemed on the verge of tears. “I think I need it more than you do,” he grabbed the bottle back. “And just wait-one day, I’ll show that kid who’s boss…” His voice trailed off, cut off by a bought of hiccupping a few moments later.
“Hey!” Ludwig’s voice was angry and sharp. “Don’t act like you’re the only one with problems, Austria!” Roderich couldn’t discern whether Ludwig was giving him an order or bemoaning his own fate.
“Yah-look at what me and West have to deal with!” Gilbert declared. He grabbed back the bottle and tried to drink, only to find it empty. Frowning, he groped around on the floor until he found another, ripping out the cork unceremoniously and began chugging.
The three nations-all of them the losers of the first Great War-were leaned against the side of a couch. Gilbert was nearly upside-down, sprawled with his legs against the loveseat. Ludwig was more upright; his torso was slouched against the couch, his feet ending up somewhere near Gilbert’s head. Roderich was nearly lying down; he was surrounded by half-empty bottles and a series of ripped sheet music.
“Why did you two come here tonight, anyway?” Roderich asked, suspicious. Gilbert and Ludwig exchanged guilty looks.
“None of your business,” Ludwig decided. “I had beer and that bastard Russia sent me the Vodka as a ‘gift.’ I needed someone to drink it.”
Gilbert was a bit more forth-coming. “I’m the only one who’s allowed to mess with you, you stupid aristocrat. Those bastards will pay for hitting my favorite punching bag…” With that, he kicked Roderich sounded in the chest, sending the drunken Austrian sprawling back a few feet.
Roderich coughed and attempted to rise to his feet. “What the hell was that for?” he demanded.
“Hey-someone needed to get you back on your feet.”
Roderich swayed, bracing himself against the wall. Despite the pounding headache and the spinning room, he was actually thinking. And he was thinking that Gilbert may have had a point.
---
“Hey!”
Roderich ignored the voice and kept walking, one foot in front of the other.
“Hey!”
His footsteps grew quicker, the cobblestoned path flying by beneath him. He kept his eyes on his feet, not daring to look behind him.
“Seriously, Austria-wait up!” A hand gripped his shoulder and turned him around, forcing Roderich to gaze into Feliks Lukasiewicz’s penetrating eyes.
“Let go of me.” Roderick slapped Feliks’ hand away, preparing to continue down the street.
“Geez-you are such a drama queen, you know that?”
Roderich rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. Still, it seemed that Feliks had more to say, and he’d never be rid of him if he didn’t hear him out. Tapping one foot impatiently, Roderich began to clean his glasses as Feliks continued.
“Hungary’s looking for you.”
His heart leapt in his chest. Still, his frown deepened. “That’s it?” he asked blandly.
“Well…yah.” Feliks seemed disappointed that Roderich hadn’t reacted. “Don’t you wanna see her?”
“Hungary and Austria are two separate countries now, Poland,” Roderich muttered with stressed patience. “We trade a little, we vote together sometimes in the League, and we share a border. That is the extent of our relationship. If we were to have any political dealings, I expect the Allies would have to be involved.”
Feliks gave Roderich a knowing smile. “Come on, Austria-it’s been a year since you two split up. Why are you still so embarrassed?”
“…are you flaunting?” Roderich asked with quiet intensity.
“Huh?”
“Are you attempting to get revenge for the partitions, or something? Did you hate living in Vienna so much? Why are you so intent to throw your happiness in my face, Poland? I am humbled, and I know it. Why can’t we leave it at that?”
“Dude, you need to chill. I don’t care about any of that. It was, like, more Russia and Prussia’s fault that yours, anyway. Hungary just told me to talk to you, so I did. She’s a pal, y’know, from when we both lived at your place.”
“Why would she want to see me?” He was asking the question more rhetorically than anything else, but Feliks still answered.
“Beats me. As far as I can tell, you weren’t the best husband, or anything.”
“I was the worst husband.” Roderich’s words were final and full of conviction.
“Oh, really? I bet Liet would challenge that.” Feliks laughed. Seeing Roderich’s puzzled gaze, he continued. “I wasn’t all that great of a husband either, y’know. But me and Liet are still pals.”
“…you are, aren’t you?” Roderich asked, his words full of wonder.
“Sure, we’re best buds.” Feliks’ smile was lit with intimacy. “So why can’t you and Hungary be the same?”
“It’s not the same,” Roderich insisted.
Feliks pulled a face. “Why not?”
“Because I broke my promise!” Roderich shot back. “We had a deal, alright? I was supposed to take care of her, and protect her! And what did I do? I ended up getting us into this damn war which took her away from me! How am I supposed to go back to her now? Why would she even want to see me?”
“Seriously, Austria-you take everything way too seriously.”
“Don’t mock me!” Roderich’s voice was heated with anger and pain.
“I’m not. I’m telling you the truth. Just ‘cause you aren’t married, you think you can’t even see her? You think that Hungary really cares about any of that-dude, she likes you. She’s put up with you for like, hundreds of years. You really think she blames you for this?”
“I would, if I were her.”
“Well, you’re not. If you and she were the same, you wouldn’t like each other so much. Hungary wants to see you, Austria.”
“…she does….?”
Feliks huffed. “What’ve I been telling you? Now get off your butt and go see her.”
Roderich nodded dumbly and turned around. He wasn’t going home anymore, though; he was headed for Budapest.
---
She was seated by the window, dressed in simple forest green. Her long, wavy hair tumbled about her shoulders; a soft half-smile played on her lips. The light from the window lit up her face and made her hair look the color of honey: soft, rich, and gleaming. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her, and Roderich found himself frozen in the doorway, unable to move forward nor back.
“You’re not coming in…?” she asked, a sad lilt to her voice. She had seen him; her jade eyes were now fixed upon his.
“O-of course,” he mumbled, amazed at how easily he fell back into his position as the aloof, arrogant superior. He crossed into the room in three quick strides, standing a few feet away from her.
They stared at one other for a moment. Roderich was amazed that nothing had changed about her; he had been sure that being Hungarian Democratic Republic would make her look and seem entirely different. But they never really did change, did they?
“You’ve kept this place well,” he said, not quite approving. “You're doing alright?”
“Y-yes,” she replied carefully, perhaps a bit too quickly. A pale blush colored her cheeks, and Roderich wondered, in amazement: she’s nervous? Why?
“Austria…” she mumbled, just as he said, “Listen, Hungary…”
They both cut off abruptly, waiting for the other to finish speaking. Her blush reddened, and she mumbled, “I’m sorry-please continue!”
“No, you spoke first,” he insisted, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. It was a stalemate; they waited in silence for a moment, then two. Finally, Roderich muttered, “I’m sorry.”
“What?” She hadn’t heard him, he’d spoken so low.
“I’m sorry!” His voice rang out louder than he’d intended, amplified by nervousness.
“Why?” She sounded utterly baffled.
“…I failed you, and I’m sorry,” he muttered. “This whole stupid war was my fault, you know, and I just wanted to say that I know you must hate me now, and I don’t blame you for that.”
“Hate you?” Now she sounded angry; as well she should be. Roderich offered her something of a short bow; nation to nation, equal to equal-then he turned to leave.
“Get back here,” she snapped, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder. “How can you just walk away from me?”
There was a strangled pain in her voice that he’d never heard before. Startled, he turned, only to find tears pooling in her dark eyes.
“…you’re sorry?” she asked sardonically. “When I’m the one who abandoned you? Austria…I…I…you don’t even know how sorry I am!”
“Hungary,” Roderich voice came out a low whistle, colored by amazement.
A tear trickled down Elizaveta’s cheek, and then the rest of her tears spilled over. Suddenly, she’d risen from her chair. He had no time to respond as she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around her shaking form, wondering how he had lived for the past year without being able to touch her.
“You don’t get to be sorry,” she told him, speaking into his chest, still. “You have to be angry, Austria-you emphatically do not have to forgive me.”
He stoked her hair, wondering at how they’d ended up like this. She didn’t blame him-she didn’t blame him!
“It’s…alright,” he soothed in his staid, stern voice. “It’s going to be alright now…Elizaveta.”
As he spoke her name, he felt her smile. “Roderich…”
They could never be the Austro-Hungarian Empire again; the Allies would have never allowed it. But at that moment, it seemed as though any of the world’s outside opinions didn’t matter, anymore. Maybe that was the feeling that seized Roderich as he gently touched Hungary’s cheek. Perhaps it was that hope that filled him as he raised her face to his. And, possibly, the same idea crossed her mind as his lips met hers, and they kissed for the first time in what seemed to have been an eternity.
---
Footnotes:
* The opening lyrics were taken from a song by the Decembrists called "A Record Year for Rainfall."
* Kaiserlich und königlich literally translates to “imperial and royal.” The phrase is mostly used in reference to Austrian and Austo-Hungarian Empires; it was the moniker of the Royal Hapsburgs.
* The Austro-Hungarian Empire existed from about 1867-1918, though the Austrian Empire had been around for much longer. I consider the time spent under the name of “Austro-Hungary” to be Roderich and Elizaveta’s “marriage.”
* The Treaty of Versailles was signed by the Allies (minus the United States) and Germany, officially ending World War I. It established the League of Nations, accused Germany’s leader, Wilhelm II, of war crimes, and established Germany as weak, shrunken, debtor nation. Most importantly, it placed all the blame for WWI on Germany’s shoulders and planted the seeds of WWII.
* The Treaty of Saint Germain-en-Laye is the treaty that Austria signs in Scene II, with France and Britain. Historically, this treat was between the Allies and Austria, and it officially dismantled the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
* The term “ k.u.k, Österreich-Ungarn” literally means “imperial and noble, Austria-Hungary.” It’s Austria’s name for himself in his own language. Likewise, “Bundesstaat Österreich” means “the Republic of Austria”-essentially, his demoted title.
* The Treaty of Trianon was an analogous treaty to Saint Germain, only between the newly-formed Hungarian Republic and the Allies. Actually, it was signed about six months after Saint Germian; I changed the chronology in this fic for the sake of the plot.
* The Lansing Note refers to US Secretary of State Robert Lansing, and his declaration that the US would support any ethnic group in Austria if they wanted their own country.
* The Partitions of Poland occurred roughly between 1772 and 1795. Russia, Prussia, and Austria all got together and decided to take Poland’s vital regions for themselves; needless to say Poland wasn’t pleased.
* The treaties in this fic are distinctly out of order, to keep the focus on Austria. The true chronology is Saint Germain, Trianon, and then Versailles.
* Poland was a part of the Austo-Hungarian Empire, but not all of it. Therefore, Feliks may not have actually lived in Roderich’s house; this is just an assumption on my part.
* When Hungary says she “abandoned” Austria, she’s referring to the fact that the Hungarian people actually decided that they wanted their own country in the middle of WWI-they sort of did abandon the Austrians, though no one can really blame them for doing so.