If he closes his eyes and listens hard, he can hear the tanks. He can feel them rumbling along her streets, snuffing out all of her revolutionary spirit with their fire and destruction. He can see the bastard smiling, hands folded innocently as he sits on his ice throne.
They are divorced, torn apart by a war that shouldn’t have happened. He shouldn’t care about her. He shouldn’t care that the last time he saw her, her eyes were shining with hope and triumph as she cut the flags, and now the hope is being shot and burned and crushed under the wheels of tanks, and she’s there, in her city, dying with every citizen she couldn’t protect.
It’s her fault.
It’s his fault.
It’s his fault, with his beady black eyes and powerful voice, promising an empire to last a thousand years, everyone worthy living together in peace.
Austria realizes his hands have been trembling as he listens to the faint rumble of bombs in the distance. He aught to hate Germany, even though he knows both their troubles were borne on his lands.
Black hair and black eyes and a black heart to match.
“Traitor,” Austria whispers. He hears a scream and he knows it’s hers. It echoes in the back of his mind, joining every other, joining the screams of his and others’ children that he let die, that he killed because of that man.
He can hear them shrieking in the back of his head, pounding their contempt and betrayal against his mind, saying you couldn’t save us, your own child killed us all, and you just sat there, laughing. Traitor, betrayer, murderer.
He sinks to his knees, shouting right along with them. “Traitor, it’s your fault, your fault, you killed them! You’re the reason why she burns, why we all burn! It’s your fault your fault, my fault…”
His fingers, once so smooth and soft, fingers that are now calloused from the work he was subjected to, clench at the chain link fence.
The man’s face is imprinted into his mind and Budapest burns.
His fault. It’s his fault.
Traitor.
Sorry if this wasn't what OP wanted. It just kinda came to me. I always thought Austria a) still loved Hungary, dispite the "divorce" and b) felt insane amounts of guilt and betrayal due to a certain man who started a certain world war and was therefore responsible for a certain iron curtain. Cuz, well, he was Austrian.
They are divorced, torn apart by a war that shouldn’t have happened. He shouldn’t care about her. He shouldn’t care that the last time he saw her, her eyes were shining with hope and triumph as she cut the flags, and now the hope is being shot and burned and crushed under the wheels of tanks, and she’s there, in her city, dying with every citizen she couldn’t protect.
It’s her fault.
It’s his fault.
It’s his fault, with his beady black eyes and powerful voice, promising an empire to last a thousand years, everyone worthy living together in peace.
Austria realizes his hands have been trembling as he listens to the faint rumble of bombs in the distance. He aught to hate Germany, even though he knows both their troubles were borne on his lands.
Black hair and black eyes and a black heart to match.
“Traitor,” Austria whispers. He hears a scream and he knows it’s hers. It echoes in the back of his mind, joining every other, joining the screams of his and others’ children that he let die, that he killed because of that man.
He can hear them shrieking in the back of his head, pounding their contempt and betrayal against his mind, saying you couldn’t save us, your own child killed us all, and you just sat there, laughing. Traitor, betrayer, murderer.
He sinks to his knees, shouting right along with them. “Traitor, it’s your fault, your fault, you killed them! You’re the reason why she burns, why we all burn! It’s your fault your fault, my fault…”
His fingers, once so smooth and soft, fingers that are now calloused from the work he was subjected to, clench at the chain link fence.
The man’s face is imprinted into his mind and Budapest burns.
His fault. It’s his fault.
Traitor.
Sorry if this wasn't what OP wanted. It just kinda came to me. I always thought Austria a) still loved Hungary, dispite the "divorce" and b) felt insane amounts of guilt and betrayal due to a certain man who started a certain world war and was therefore responsible for a certain iron curtain. Cuz, well, he was Austrian.
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FINALLY, SOMEONE ADDRESSES THE FACT THAT TOOTHBRUSH-MUSTACHE WAS AUSTRIAN!!!
Still love Austria though.
And poor Hungary. :[
Have my internet, Author!Anon. You deserve it. :]
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recaptcha: missing freedoms
o i see what you are doing thar
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