[fanfic] Like Pedro & Ines - One-Shot/Trade

[damagectrl]

Title: Like Pedro & Ines
Part: One-Shot
Characters: OC Philippines, Austria, BTT
Rating: Teen
Warning: AustriaPhilippines, Romance, Fluff, UNBETAED MIND DRIBBLE
Summary:
She once heard of Portugal's greatest love story: a king who fell in love with his queen's lady-in-waiting and wanted to marry her, only to have his father kill her before he had the chance to. When they first met, he seemed like that powerful King and she sincerely liked his lovely Queen. Centuries later would prove that they were not like Pedro and Ines -a lovesick King and his ill-fated lover; they were just Roderich and Maria -a bored holiday-goer and temporary cook.


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Like Pedro & Ines
One-Shot
By DamageCtrl

*All Standard Disclaimers Apply: I do not own anything other than the plot and OCs. Even then, they're not that creative.
.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.

At the Wedding of Austria & Hungary, Vienna, Austria

"Where are the hair pins? We need more hair pins!" a lady-in-waiting insisted as she loomed behind a seated figure. A few younger girls were running around, bringing various items to her as two other women fixed the seated woman's elaborate dress.

The finely embroidered train was swept around her chair and kept out of the way as another woman carefully placed various adornments on the soft, brown hair of the bride. They were in the bride's chambers; an elaborate decorated room with high ceilings and gold gilded embellishments. Everything in the room was a testament not just to her status, but to that of her future husband.

Silently, the colony sat in a plush chair in the corner, watching the pre-wedding chaos unfold. They had a few more hours until the actual ceremony, but she supposed it was good to start early.

With all the chattering the women were doing, it surprised her they could get anything done.

Maria curled her lower lip in and wondered why her 'father', Spain, had sent her to Hungary's wedding preparation chambers in the first place. She clearly wasn't needed. Her dark eyes lowered to the small worn shoes on her feet. She had nicer ones...fancier ones that her father had wanted her to wear on the occasion, but they pinched her toes and made her teeter with their heels.

Figuring that the dress he had forced her to wear would hide her feet anyway, she would wear a pair of worn-in leather slippers. So far, no one had noticed.

She lifted her head as the idea struck her. Perhaps no one would notice her at all....

The only reason she was in Vienna in the first place was because she just happened to be in Madrid when the decision to go to the wedding was made. Rather than send her back, Antonio had dressed her up, intent on showing his fellow empires that regardless of the revolts in the New World, he was still a power to be reckoned with and she, Las Filipinas, a bustling port and economic hub for him, was proof of that.

When she was paraded around like war trophy, she wondered if that was why her brother had hated going to Europe. Nueva España and the other Viceroyalties of the New World were gems in Spain's colonial crown when they were still his and Spain never hesitated to remind the rest of the world of that.

Now, she was that gem...and she had no urge to be.

She glanced around the room and slowly slipped out of her chair. As quietly and as unassumingly as she could, she headed for the door. Before she reached to open it, she glanced back to see if anyone saw her.

Everyone was focused on the bride-to-be-country...but her eyes were on Maria.

For a moment, the teenage looking colony froze in her spot, her tanned, work worn hand hovering over a brass door handle. They had never spoken before. They had never even met until Spain introduced them, yet, the colony could understand. Her eyes met Hungary's and for a moment, she could read her eyes.

They told her to go. To leave while she could and regret nothing.

Las Filipinas felt her heart twist at the expression in her green eyes. Hungary wished to go with her...and Maria understood why.

She lowered her head and gave the future wife of Austria and respectful bow before she slipped out the door.

The noise of the room was left behind and the colony began to wander. With any luck, she would avoid Spain, as well. While she walked through the elaborate halls, occasionally getting questioning looks from palace guards, she wondered if anyone ever got tired walking down the endless corridors.

It wasn't like at her house or that of other colonies. Their homes were smaller and more welcoming, in her opinion. This place felt cold and formal. She didn't like it at all.

She finally found herself at one of the courtyards and inhaled deeply. Their gardens may have been has formal as their homes, but they were at least open and refreshing to her. Maria bounced down the steps, knowing that while she was clearly a foreigner, the elaborate dress she was wearing and the pearls in her hair marked her as someone who was a guest of Spain.

As a result, none of the guards or nobles or invited aristocracy that were loitering in the gardens said a word to her. Instead, they simply ignored her. That was more than fine.

Her shoes sounded against the footpath as she made her way deeper into the garden. There were many different plants in Europe and the people there seemed to like shaping bushes. They didn't grow wild like back home. The weather was cool, not humid and hot. The people were extremely pale and even continued to cake white powder on their faces to become even paler.

She had heard of ghosts that were that pale. Amused with her train of thought, she continued to walk; taking in the sights of the gardens and wandering further from the palace. From where she stood, she could almost forget that behind her were stuffy rooms and rude looking men...that she was in a world where she did not belong.

She rounded the corner and stopped in her tracks. There was a man dressed in fine clothing leaning against a stone partition that separated one garden level from the next. In front of him, sounds of water rushing signaled the location of a fountain. She couldn't see his face and he didn't seem to notice her, so Maria pretended not to see him and instead attempt to sneak around him to get to the next level.

She didn't get very far. About three or four steps in the direction of the steps, a stern voice reached her ears. "What are you doing?"

She cringed. Caught.

"Good day, Sir," she greeted stupidly as she quickly tried to give him a respectful courtesy. As she turned to see him, she could make out his intricately embroidered clothes and the jewelry adorning his neck and hands. Thick brown hair was parted to one side and one stray lock flipped upwards. A thin pair of glasses was perched on his nose and lips were draw into a tight line. Purple eyes were narrowed behind his glasses.

He seemed to study her a moment before he gave her a small nod. "You are one of Spain's colonies," he asserted. "Why are you here in the gardens? Shouldn't you be with Carriedo?

From the sound of his voice, he didn't seem happy to see her. She looked away, embarrassed. "I was supposed to help Hungary, but there were already so many people there that no one had any need of me," she admitted. "I was useless, so I left for a walk."

"I see," the brunette stated. He looked away from her and turned his attention back to the fountain. "And how is she?" he asked in a quieter voice.

"Lady Hungary?" the colony asked. She paused for a moment to carefully measure her words. "She is quiet," she replied. "She is sitting there and all the women are bustling around her, talking all at once. She must be overwhelmed."

She didn't notice his white-gloved hands clench. "I can imagine." He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about their marriage either. Yes, he cared for her, as he would a friend...but he wasn't sure if there was more and he wasn't completely convinced that they were making the right decision.

"Everyone is saying that she is very lucky to marry Austria. That it is rare that a political marriage involves love," Maria added.

He furrowed his brows and cast her a critical look. Did she not recognize him? Did she not know who he was?

"If that is the case, why is she so quiet?" he asked. His eyes narrowed. "Does she already regret this union?" He sounded almost angry and Maria shrank back.

She took a deep breath. She looked out towards the garden and slowly made her way to the stone railing, a few paces from where he remained rooted in his spot. "It is difficult to love someone and have a marriage with them that is seen by the world as a mere political move," she stated. "Because then, you start to be influenced more by that than love."

For a moment, the man beside her cocked his head and looked at her questioningly. "You've thought of this?" Had Spain wanted to marry her off?

"My father once told me that marriage with countries isn't like human marriage," she recited solemnly. Her dark eyes stared at the splashing water below. "It means that one nation would take over another, even if they did not mean to. I think Hungary knows that and while she cares for Austria, she doesn't want her country to be overpowered by his."

He never thought of it like that. Roderich crinkled his eyes. "But considering the circumstances...it is the most logical thing to do."

She laughed. He turned his head towards her and listened to her voice over the sound of the fountain as she tossed her head back and chuckled, shaking her head before turning to look at him with endearing brown eyes and a bittersweet smile on her pink lips.

"Love has nothing to do with logic," she stated easily. "If it were logical, there would be a way to avoid getting hurt by love...but there isn't."

She was just a colony; not even her own country, but he could not take his eyes off the distant expression that filled her face. Had she been hurt?

"You're just a child," he tried to reason out loud as he looked away from her. "You shouldn't talk like a regretful woman."

Her eyes softened. "But I am."

His heart quickened. Purple eyes were drawn back to the petite figure. She was a mere child to him; a teen at best. She was a colony, trapped in the grasp of a powerful empire. She shouldn't have caused his heart to race or his cheeks to flush at her thoughtful words and solemn expressions.

He was Austria. He was an Empire. There was no room for a lowly Spanish colony in his world. He had another kingdom waiting to be his bride.

Yet, he knew that the regretful woman standing before him would make a regretful man out of him.

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Current Summer -Marbella, Andalusia, Spain

Francis felt the corner of his eye twitch. When Antonio invited him and Gilbert to the Costa Del Sol -the Spanish Riviera, for their yearly get-together, he didn't expect Gilbert to bring along Germany and Austria of all countries. At first, he was glad that he brought the convertible with the back seat to pick them up at the airport, but now, he wasn't so sure.

"Will you just shut up and enjoy yourself!?" Gilbert demanded, fighting for Austria's bag.

"Gilbert, that is enough," Francis let out a heavy breath. "Roderich, please, you are already here. Just put your bag in the car."

"No!" the brunette snapped as he clung to his bag. "I'm going back to Vienna-"

"It is already the afternoon," Francis reasoned with him. "At least stay the night and leave in the morning. Get some rest after the stress this idiot put you through."

"Yeah!" Gilbert nodded. His eyes crinkled up. "Wait...."

Roderich narrowed his eyes. He had a point. There probably weren't any direct flights and he wasn't exactly keen on spending a night in an airport, waiting for a transfer. He loosened the hold on his bag and nodded, conceding. "A bed is more comfortable than airport chairs," he commented. "I trust I'll have my own room."

"Antonio's summer house has plenty of spare rooms!" Gilbert insisted. "If not, Italy can stay with West. He will be anyway."

"Brother...,"

"We can decide when we arrive," Francis said as he held open the door. "Come, I am sure Antonio and the twins are waiting."

Begrudgingly, Austria took his seat in the back and Prussia jumped into the front passenger's seat. As they zoomed down the seaside road, towards Spain's summer house, Roderich admitted to himself that it was a nice place. Little shops, yachts in the harbor, homes to wealthy and famous people both Spanish and foreign. It really was a playground for the rich.

They rolled through an open iron gate and towards a large, white house built close to the water's edge. As soon as the car stopped, Prussia jumped out and beamed.

"You have to hand it to Antonio," he nodded in approval. "He knows how to live."

"Get your bags, Gilbert. There isn't any one here to help you with them this week," Francis pointed out. The white-haired man nodded and went to the trunk to pull out his bag. Austria followed Germany up the steps and into the foyer of the house.

Just as they stepped through the doors, vigorous Spanish yelling could be heard from somewhere in the house. Austria's eyes widened. What the hell was that?

"Germany!" a bright, energetic voice practically sang. A short, brown-haired nation shot up from his seat on the white leather couches and darted across the room, flinging himself at the tall blond German.

A light blush filled Ludwig's face as Feliciano clung to him and beamed. "Hello, Italy."

"What is that noise?" Francis frowned as he closed the door behind him.

A snort came from the couch. Romano stood up. "They've been arguing for the last ten minutes," he grumbled. "Oy! Spain-bastard!" he shouted down the hall, and into the house. "Your guests are here! Leave her alone and come greet them!"

The yelling from within subsided and Germany looked at Romano, confused. "What is he doing?" Before he could answer, Antonio stumbled into the living room, smiling and flushed while his disheveled hair stuck out in odd places.

"Buenos dias, everyone!" he greeted.

"Antonio," Francis frowned. "What are you doing?"

"He's taking advantage of a poor girl," Romano answered quickly. Antonio quickly shook his head, but Austria already had a look of utter disgust.

"I'm not! Don't listen to him!" Spain insisted. "I wasn't taking advantage-"

"Here is what I think of your stupid uniform!" a shrill, furious voice cut him off. All eyes turned towards the hall, where a petite nation was storming out in pair of tan shorts and a loose, flowery pink top. "I'm not going to wear it!" She threw a ripped pile of black cloth and white lace on to the floor, at Spain's feet.

"Ah! Mija!" Antonio cried, horrified as he picked up what used to be a maid's uniform. "Papa had this especially made for you!" Roderich resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Did he really have to use third person when he spoke to his children?

Maria's face only turned redder. "I'm not going to wear it and if you insist that I pretend to be your maid the entire time, I'm going to leave!" she insisted. "You only asked me to come and cook for this week!"

The new-comers recognized the hard-working former colony as the Phiippines. Her usually neatly pulled back black hair was let loose and voluminous and tangled in the heat. The unassuming nation that they usually saw her as was replaced with a clearly angry woman, just a moment away from storming out of the house.

"Antonio, stop bothering your poor daughter," Francis sighed, exasperated. He turned to the German-speakers apologetically to explain the situation. "Maria wanted to borrow the Marbella estate for something and Antonio said he'd let her, if she came and cooked breakfast and some dinners for us during our stay here."

"Everything was fine until the bastard told her to wear a uniform," Romano added.

"But, mija," Spain's voice was pleading loudly as he clutched the shredded uniform against him. "You will look so cute in it! Ask Romano! He used to love wearing these kind of dresses!"

As expected, Romano's shrieking voice filled the air as he denied the accusation with a red face. He turned to Maria and gave her a determined look. "If you want to go back to Rome, I'll go with you. Right now."

"No!" Spain visibly panicked. He shot forward and grabbed on to Maria, hugging her and begging her to stay. "I missed your cooking! Please don't go! I'll do anything!"

"Don't make me wear any stupid uniform or do anything ridiculous," Maria stated, deadpan.

"Si, si!" Antonio answered easily. He looked at the guests earnestly. "Maria is only here to cook, so do not bother her with petty things like laundry and cleaning up after you, okay?"

"Boo!" Prussia pouted.

"Stop acting like a child," Austria snapped as he shot him a glare. "The nation is here as a chef," he stressed. "Not as a personal maid." He lifted up his nose at Gilbert, who shot him a glare, and turned to Maria. "Is it possible to request meals, then?"

She smiled. "Of course." Her eyes were bright and her lips were pink. She was taller than he recalled and for a moment, he forgot that her 'Papa' was clinging to her. "If you have any allergies, please let me know."

"I shall, thank you," he nodded curtly. He glanced at the others and adjusted his bag in his arm. "I'm going to retire to my room the rest of the afternoon. I expect to be left alone," he stressed, eyeing Gilbert.

The white-haired man stuck out his tongue.

"Your room is up the stairs, first door on the right," Francis told him. He glanced at Maria and gave the female nation a warm, fatherly smile. "And Marie, if you do not mind, please bring him something cool to drink."

Maria nodded happily in the middle of prying Spain off her. She turned her beaming face back to Austria. "It is good to see you again," she smiled. "I'll be by your room in a few moments."

He nodded his head and quickly made a beeline out of the room before anyone could see the pink tint flooding his cheeks. He all but flew to his room and slammed the door shut behind him before falling back against it and covering his mouth with his hand.

She had smiled...and he had always loved her smiles.

Closing his eyes tightly, Roderich leaned back against the wooden door, trying to calm the heart that had surprisingly begun to beat wildly in his chest the moment she appeared. It had been so long since he had seen her so close and, to him, she had aged beautifully.

He dropped his bag on the floor and stumbled across the room, to the bed in the center, and collapsed on to it like a tired old man. The warm costal breeze swept into his room from the open balcony doors and rather than take in the view of the sea beyond them, Austria could only lay in bed, one arm covering his reddened face as he recalled Spain's former colony.

He could still remember the surprised look on her face from the corner of his eye when she saw him standing at the altar, dressed even more formally than when they had met in the garden, and as the groom of Hungary. She paled slightly, looking almost horrified as she sat behind her father, trying to avoid looking at him throughout the long ceremony.

It was only late into the night, when she approached the newly married couple with gifts from her and her father that she bowed before him and apologized in a soft, whispered breath. She had quickly turned to Elizabeta, who gave her a warm kiss on the cheek and thanked her. Roderich had only wished he could've done that.

The days following his wedding with Hungary was when the slight interest in the Spanish colony turned into something more. He had found her in the garden the next morning, seemingly hiding from Spain and whatever he wanted her to do. He had stood beside her, still some distance apart, and, after what seemed like an endless silence, told her that there was nothing for her to apologize for.

Maria had turned to him, still looking displeased with herself, and shook her head. "I should've known who you are, but I did not and said unnecessary things."

He had not found her words the day before unnecessary. "Then I shall remedy that," he faced her and bowed. "I am Austria, Roderich Edelstein," he stated carefully. He lifted his eyes behind his glasses and met hers. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

And he would meet her again and again in the far edge of the garden, every day, in the mid morning. They would exchange very little words, but were content to stand in silence, simply appreciating the presence of the other. The meetings that he would've attended were rescheduled or avoided all together. The officials that he would have spent time with were ignored.

He would seek her out, he had realized with shock. When she had not yet arrived, he would begin to wonder if she had grown tired of him and his heart would grow heavy. When she appeared, his entire spirit brightened, though he refused to show it outwardly. It did not matter...a smile from her seemed to tell him that she knew that he treasured those moments with her.

That same smile told her that she felt the same.

Though, after the fleeting moments, when he was seated with his wife, he would hate himself. He was disgusted at his actions. She was a teenaged colony and he was a powerful empire! What was he seeing in her? Even worse was that he were a married man. A married main willfully loitering around an innocent girl because he enjoyed and yearned for her company.

He was angry, but it would not stop him from closing the gap between them. The days of flown by and what had once been several paces between them had shrunken to nothing. They walked the unseen parts of the gardens together and he would take her hand when she was falling too far behind for his liking. He would wrap his fingers around hers and help her, unnecessarily, up steps. He would pluck flowers from the passing shrubs and place them into her hair; admiring their pale shade against her midnight tresses.

When they had spoken, it was not idle chatter. It was contemplative and thoughtful. It was truthful and made him feel as if their connection was more than just a meeting of eyes or a caress of a hand.

In the last days of her visit, he had met with her one last time. He knew that she would return to her homeland soon and reached to stroke the face that filled his thoughts, even when he was with another.

And, unexpectedly, she had gently pushed his hand away.

Her eyes had remained soft and gentle as they met his. Her finger tips had graced his bare hand.

"You are married," she reminded him, making it clear that she knew his intention, as unwittingly as he may have had them. He could see the hurt, regret, and shame in her eyes and he wondered if his had reflected the same. "I cannot allow you to betray Hungary," she added as she stepped away from him. Her hand released his and he knew she was leaving him. "I am not Ines to your Pedro."

Her words were vague and for years, he would not understand what she had meant, not for decades. He had only stood there, unsure of what to say as she bowed her head and excused herself.

Maria Isabela Carriedo de la Cruz would both wound him that morning and make him want her more.

She would never be his.

She had spent her remaining days with Hungary and Belgium, as if knowing that he would not approach her when she was with his wife. He would keep his distance and would do so for the next several centuries to come.

Distance had kept them apart. World Summits did nothing to help. It was difficult to reminisce about infatuation...love, even, when they were discussing global recessions, wars, and famines.

Austria removed his arm from his eyes and stared up at the white ceiling of his room. Why now, after so many years, did his heart still quicken at the sight of her?

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He heard her humming from the kitchen. A low, peaceful hum of an unidentifiable song. He walked through the brightly lit house, wondering why it was so quiet aside from her humming. Perhaps the others had eaten their dinner and then left for the town's nightlife.

The brown-haired nation stood at the threshold to the kitchen, holding an empty glass that had been brought up, filled, to him earlier that day. He looked at the female nation in front of him, hunched over the table, seemingly absorbed in whatever it was that she was doing.   Briefly, he wondered how she would've looked like in the ridiculous maid outfid that Spain had made just for her. He shook his head and let out a little quiet scoff. The man was an idiot.

The sound of his cough caught her attention and Maria stood up straight and looked over her shoulder. Her eyes went wide as a welcoming smile immediately graced her face.

"Austria!" she greeted. "We missed you at dinner."

He couldn't look her in the eyes. It was too soon to look her in the eyes. "I'm just very tired from Gilbert's pestering all day," he answered. "I wanted to return the glass, though."

"Oh, you could've called down for me to pick it up if you are unwell," Maria informed him as she abandoned a circular brown cake on the counter in favor of taking his glass. "Are you hungry?"

"No." His treacherous stomach growled and his face turned pink. "A little."

She giggled and motioned for him to take a seat on the bar stool in front of the counter. "I will heat up some food. Is there anything in particular you'd like? We have some pasta, some broiled fish, shrimp-"

"Whatever you have is fine," he assured her. "Do not trouble yourself too much," he added, looking away.

"Seafood pasta...," Maria confirmed. She pulled a carefully placed and covered glass bowl with pasta from the refrigerator and prepared to reheat it.

Behind her, Austria found his eyes moving back to her and taking in the calmness. Perhaps whatever slight infatuation she had for him all those years ago no longer existed, thus she didn't feel nervous around him at all. His eyes lowered. His stomach twisted. Or perhaps, she never felt anything for him.

How foolish was he, then, if that were the case. He was falling in love with her and she didn't care. He ran his hand down his face. Why had he come downstairs? Had he been hoping to see her? If he were hungry, he could've easily waited until everyone was asleep. Yet, as soon as he realized they were alone, he went straight to her.

"You seemed tired today," her voice said as she began to put the heated food on a plate for him. "I was worried; you looked upset."

He lifted his head and met her eyes as she placed the plate in front of him. Wondrous brown orbs looked at him curiously. "It was just Gilbert," he insisted as he took the fork that had been provided. There was no place setting, just a napkin with a fork and knife placed in front of him. Maria was refilling his glass with a chilled, red beverage. "He kept pestering me to come and said I needed a vacation."

He bit into a fork full of pasta and relished the taste. Whether it was the hunger or the fact that she made it, it was the best he'd tasted in years.

"He is a bit demanding," she acknowledged. She turned to her pastry creation. "I made you a cake," she said proudly as she motioned to the brown thing on a plate. "I know it's not as good as anything you can make and I'm not much of a pastry chef," she admitted. "But I remember that you like sweets, especially tortes."

She remembered. Roderich swallowed his food and stared at her. She remembered.

"I do," he nodded. She smiled warmly.

"Will you have some of mine, then?" He nodded once more. Maria waited for him to finish, telling him not to rush when it seemed he was eating far faster than normal.

He couldn't help himself really. If it were the most terrible cake he'd ever have, he still couldn't wait to try it. "You made that for me?" he asked carefully as she cut into the cake.

She nodded sheepishly. "I had to wait until the others left or they would've devoured it," she admitted. "I hope it is to your liking. I know you have high standards for this."

He felt his chest swelling. "I am sure it is fine," he said. She placed a slice on a small plate for him and he waited. "Are you not going to eat with me?" he asked, raising an awaiting brow.

Maria blushed, feeling a bit stupid for thinking she would just stand there and watch him eat. "I suppose I should taste it, too," she admitted. She got another plate for herself and took a slice. With a fork in her hand, she looked at across at Austria and smiled. "I hope you like it!"

She bit into a piece. "I already do," he replied under his breath.

He didn't recall how it tasted, only that Maria was eating with him and happy to be there. He was happy to be there.

"You had brought a slice of torte once," she said nostalgically. "I remember I was late one morning and when I arrived at our spot, you were eating this cake."

Was that what she thought of? It was their spot? His eyes softened. "You were late," he pointed out firmly. "I would've shared, but tardiness is tardiness." He began to cut himself another slice.

"I know," she chuckled. "It's been so long since we last talked," she sighed. "So much has happened since then."

He nodded as he cut through his slice with his fork. "Agreed," he replied. Maria seemed to hesitate.

"I heard from Hungary that you two are still friends," she said. He visibly stiffened and she shrank back. She knew she should've stayed off the topic, but part of her was curious. Everything was going well and then she had to bring up his ex-wife. Why had she even done that? Roderich's movements became more rigid.

"We have maintained a friendship," he acknowledged. His eyes were lowered. "Nothing more."

Her lips pursed. Across from her, he finished his cake and lifted a napkin to carefully dab the corners of his lips. "Do you want some more?"

"No," he answered swiftly. He mentally cringed at how harsh his voice sounded. He turned his head away from her, not wanting to see her hurt expression. Maria nodded and gave him a weak smile before beginning to gather their things for washing. He remained on his stool, eyeing the remaining cake and then moving to her back as she washed and dried the dishes.

"It is getting late," she said, somewhat awkwardly. "I should turn in before they return and wake me with their drunkenness." It was supposed to be a joke, but neither of them laughed.

"I should as well," he agreed. He slipped off his stool and turned for the stairs.

"Is it true you're leaving tomorrow?" her voice reached out to him and he paused in mid step.

Roderich closed his eyes for just a moment. "No," he told her. He looked over his shoulder at met her eyes for just a moment. "I will be staying."

Maria watched as he turned away and continued to leave. She listened to the sound of his footsteps vanishing up the stairs and allowed her shoulders to slump down, relieved. A small smile graced her face. "I'm glad."

.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.

By some miracle, or massive distraction, Prussia had left him alone all morning. Austria woke up late in the morning, effectively skipping breakfast, and rolled out of bed only when he was hungry. The house was silent and empty when he came out of his room. A note on the fridge said that everyone had left for the day and since Maria only cooked breakfast and dinner, there would be no one to make him lunch.

He rolled his eyes. Surely, there must've been something left in the fridge. He opened it and found all the left-over food from the day before had been eaten...including his cake. Grumbling he slammed it closed and headed out to get a meal outside. He found himself having coffee at a cafe overlooking the water an hour later.

Briefly, he wondered what there was to do. He didn't feel like going to the beach and he couldn't exactly spend the day indoors, watching television. He could window shop, he supposed, but he doubted he would find anything of interest.

"There are some old Roman structures," a voice suggested, quiet, but hopeful. "If you want to see them."

"I've seen enough to last me a life time," he replied automatically. Suddenly, he froze and snapped his head to the side, in the direction of the voice. Maria was standing on the other side of a little velvet rope separating the cafe from the pedestrian walkway. She was in billowy white skirt and blouse and was clutching a guide book to her chest. He blinked. How long had she been standing there? "Maria...," he mumbled. He quickly stood up to greet her. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice you. Would you care to join me?"

She smiled and laughed lightly, shaking her head. "No, no, I was just passing by and saw you. You looked bored."

He let out a heavy sigh that confirmed her suspicions. "I am rather bored. I don't know what to do here other than sit and be seen."

"Well," she shrugged and held up her guidebook. "You're welcomed to join me, if you'd like."

"How long do we have?" Roderich asked as he began to fish out some money from his wallet. "I know you have to return to make dinner for those fools."

She chuckled. "Papa and the others won't be back until later tonight. We have plenty of time to wander."

.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.
It was a fleeting sight; just a second or less between some trees, but he knew what he saw. At least he was pretty sure. In all honestly, he never thought it possible.

"Antonio, what are you doing?" Francis' exasperated voice asked as he sat in front of the seated Spaniard. They were having lunch on some terraced restaurant and while the two sets of brothers had gone to order more drinks at the bar, Antonio's mind had been else where. "You've been glaring at the tree for some time now."

"I thought I saw something," Antonio replied in a lower voice than usual. France's eyes narrowed slightly.

"What are you talking about?"

"I thought I saw Maria," he replied.

Across from him, the blond rolled his eyes. "That is all? Of course you are bound to see her, she's probably wandering all over the town while we're-"

"With Austria." The last word dripped with displeasure and changed everything. Francis sat up straight and followed Antonio's line of vision, half expecting to see their resident chef and anti-social house guest standing there.

When no one was seen, he looked at Antonio critically. "Are you sure?"

"He is not with us, where do you think he is?" Spain snapped, rather angrily. Francis held up his hands to calm him.

"Antonio, he hasn't left his room much the last few days. I doubt he'd go gallivanting around the city with your daughter," Francis assured him. "He knows better," he added under his breath.

Spain gritted his teeth. He knew what Maria was wearing that day. He had even hugged her in those clothes before they left the house. That was why when he caught sight of a young woman in shorts and a familiar blouse with long black hair, he had automatically waved to call her over.

His voice had died in his throat the moment he saw her hand linked with a man's. "I'm sure it was her."

"Antonio," Francis insisted as he leaned across the table. "The two are vastly different. There is no reason for them to be walking around together."

He knew there was a chance it wasn't her, but a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach said otherwise. "Fine," he stated. "Maybe I am just seeing things." He tore his eyes away from the trees, just missing a couple strolling back down the path, hand in hand.

"We can go to the beach again," Maria suggested. She looked at the man beside her. Roderich was holding a guidebook open with one hand while his other clasped her tightly. She smiled; even distracted he looked quite handsome in his holiday clothes. He even wore a tan fedora that matched her wide brimmed sunhat.

"No, my sunburns still hurt," he replied as he used his thumb to flip a page. She giggled and he glanced up with a questioning look.

"Hehe," she giggled. "Sorry...." The day before, they had gotten tired of walking around the town and perusing the stores, and decided to finally try the beach. Maria, a natural beach-goer, was splashing in the water, relishing the feeling of the sand beneath her toes, and had been fine under the Spanish sun.

Roderich had not.

Still, there were worst days to spend an afternoon in Marbella than at a beach with a beautiful, fun woman.

He let out a heavy sigh. He snapped the guidebook closed and pulled her to the side gently. "There is more to Costa del Sol than Marbella," he said. "Why don't we go to another town?"

Her eyes lit up quickly. "Oh!" Then they dimmed. "But Papa and the others." Silently, Roderich damned them. "I'm here to cook for them. I can't do more than a day trip."

"Then we can do a day trip. As soon as breakfast is finished, we can take a taxi to another town...Nerja has some lovely sights," he pointed out. She still looked hesitant and he gave her a slight smile. "We will return before dinner."

She took a deep breath. "Alright," she said. "I won't have enough time to cook something big tomorrow...I can least make it up to them tonight."

He gave her an approving nod. "Then we will go back early today," he agreed. He gave glanced down the street and then back at her. "Do you wish to continue our walk?"

She nodded her head. "Yes, of course!"

He tucked the guidebook into his satchel and proceeded to allow her to lead him up the street.

Since Francis had taken the car, the duo would set off for their adventures on foot and as dinnertime approached, they began to head back.

Roderich made sure to enjoy their fleeting moments together. As soon as they reached the house, she would drop his hand and return to her cooking duties, leaving him to return to his room to waste time until the main party arrived, ate, and left again. Each day, it felt as if they were taking longer and longer and his time with the former colony was becoming less and less.

It was all in his head, he knew that. He, out of everyone else in the house, spent more time with her the last three, now four, days.

The feelings that she brought out in him were similar to what he felt on the terraced garden in Vienna years ago. Perhaps stronger. The distance between them didn't need to be closed; he was right at her side without hesitation. There was no need to yearn to hold her hand when they were going up stairs; she had already taken his.

"Roderich, are you listening?" her voice sounded amused as he blinked and refocused on her face. She was giving him a half-amused smile with confused knit brows. "I asked if you were fine with pork tonight."

"Yes, yes," he nodded, turning his head away and giving himself a mental shake. Had he just been staring blankly at her for the last few minutes? He looked around and noticed they were in the familiar gardens of the house. He lifted his head further and saw the white building up the path, signaling an end to their day together.

Maria followed his gaze and felt her own heart sink a bit. She no longer looked forward to returning.

"We have tomorrow," she reminded him as she gave his hand a small tug to draw his attention back to her. A pair of purple eyes met hers and softened.

He raised his right hand and moved it to her face, gently drawing his fingers lightly over her flushed, warm cheek. He was gentle, actually. She wondered if people knew just how much. "Tomorrow," he told her intently. "Will not come soon enough."

Her heart raced. She lifted her free hand and gently brushed his. He tensed. For a moment, he remembered their last day together in Vienna and felt a breath catch in his throat. He could already feel the pain seeping through his body as he remembered her rejection.

This time, however, instead of moving his hand away, her soft palm cupped the back of his hand, keeping it against her cheek as she closed her eyes and leaned into him. "I know."

His lips met the top of her head; a feather light kiss beneath the orange glow of the sunset. "Maria...."

She pulled her hand away and lifted her head to meet his. She bit her lip slightly as she blushed and looked away. "I have to get to the kitchen," she muttered stupidly.

She stepped back, pulling her hand out of his, only to feel it tighten around her. She looked back at him and couldn't take her eyes off his purple ones. "Listen tonight," he said as he brought her hand up to lips. He placed a ginger kiss on top of her knuckles before slowly releasing them. "Whatever you hear will have been played for you."

"What is he saying?" a low voice growled from behind the glass of the one of the windows. Antonio loomed behind the white plantation shutters, his green orbs glaring through the slits as he watched the brown-haired man touch his daughter and speak to her in an unforgiving intimate manner. He grit his teeth as he watched as Maria finally fled the piano bastard's presence and whirled around. "I'm going to-"

"Calm down, Antonio," Francis said as he and Gilbert each grabbed one of Spain's arms and kept him from storming out into the garden and confronting the musician. "A kiss on the hand is hardly a reason to attack a man."

"Did you not see what happened before that!?" Antonio growled. "He kissed her on the head!"

"Yeah, I've never seen him act so lewd before," Gilbert rolled his eyes. Antonio nodded.

"Exactly!"

"You're making a fuss over nothing," Francis assured him. "Antonio, that is just how Roderich acts. He is only being polite." Even has he said it, he knew he was lying. He, of all people, could see the look in Austria's eyes and, more so, understand that it meant.

"But-"

"Antonio, it's Roderich," Gilbert snorted, as if the very idea were ludicrous. "Do you really think he's that type of guy? You've known him for centuries!"

Everything they told him made sense, but Spain couldn't quell the uneasiness in his stomach at the sight of someone so close to his daughter.

"Papa! Francis! Gilbert! You three are back early!" Maria greeted as she entered through the back kitchen door. She beamed. "Dinner will be ready in just a moment...." She trailed off and gave the trio a quizzical look as she noticed that France and Prussia were holding her father back. "Is something wrong?"

"No! Of course not!" Francis assured her.

"We're just a little hungry," Gilbert added with a wide grin. He squeezed Antonio's arm tightly. "Isn't that right, amigo?"

Antonio held back a grimace as he looked at his unassuming daughter. He forced on a smile and nodded his head. "Make sure to use lots of tomatoes, mija," he told her. He ignored the sound of the front door opening as Austria returned. "Papa is very hungry tonight."

.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.
He knew they were not going to return that night. Part of him had hoped that they would be able to have an entire day together before they were forced to part ways once more, but at the same time, he could not bring himself to make such a thing happen.

Roderich did not need to. Whether Maria had planned it or not, it had happened and he hadn't realized until it was too late.

The morning was spent traveling to a town not too far away from Marbella and upon arriving, Maria instantly spotted a horse drawn carriage. The hopeful glimmer in her eyes and the way she kept looking at it easily told him that she wanted a ride and he took her on one. They wandered up and down the city and, upon hearing about it, went to a near-by donkey sanctuary.

Maria was in love. She made a point to try to feed each rescued burro a carrot or apple and kept returning to the large tannish-white one, saying she wanted to bring him home. It was impractical, of course. She lived on the other side of the world and the poor old donkey probably wouldn't last the flight there.

Roderich did the next best thing.

"Here." Maria turned from where she was nuzzling the Giant Andalucian Donkey and came face to face with a small crocheted miniature of it. Her eyes went wide.

"Aww...Roderich...where did you get this?" she asked as she accepted the small, hand-sized toy.

"At the shop," he said. "They are made by volunteers and donated for sales to benefit the sanctuary," he recited what he read on the tag. Maria nuzzled it lovingly.

"Thank you so much!" she beamed. She turned to the donkey and showed it its miniature version. "Mira, burro!" she beamed in Spanish. "Es tu!"

The corners of his lips tugged into a small smile. He wasn't a fan of trudging around a farm and hugging farm animals, but seeing her excited face was worth it.

"I also got you this." He added as he reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and took out a folded piece of paper. Maria furrowed her brows as she stepped closer and accepted it. He watched anxiously as her eyes read through the words and widened.

"You adopted one for me!" she squealed and jumped up, throwing her arms around him. "Thank you, Roderich!"

It was more a donation, really. They couldn't take the donkey home, but he had 'adopted' her favorite, the Giant Andalucian, in her name.

His arms went around her carefully, hesitant to scare her away. When she didn't pull back, he finally allowed himself to relax.

"This has been an amazing day...," she sighed contentedly against him as she closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder. Austria gently stroked her back and nestled her against him.

"I know...," he whispered. It was the best twenty-five Euro he had ever spent.

Though, as a result of the Donkey Sanctuary, they realized that they wouldn't make it back to Marbella in time for dinner, let alone to cook it. The result had been an apologetic call from Maria to her father, saying she got caught up at the Donkey Sanctuary.

Antonio had panicked. He asked whom she was with, how she had gotten there, and whether she was staying the night or if she wanted him to pick her.

The moment Maria said she was with Roderich, Antonio's panicked voice went silent.

"Papa?" Maria asked nervously. "Papa, are you there?"

"Maria?" It was Francis who picked up. "Your father fainted," he chuckled, sounding somewhat nervous. "It is too late for you to return. Stay the night there and...eh...make sure to get separate rooms, oui?"

"Francis!" Maria flushed. "Of course! Please take care of Papa for me. Tell him I will be back in the morning."

"Yes, have a safe trip back, ma chere." He hung up the phone and Maria looked at Roderich.

She smiled sheepishly. "Looks like we're stuck."

That was how they ended up at hotel for the night. Roderich had paid for two rooms beside each other. He didn't ask whether or not she wanted to share and part of her was glad he did not. She wasn't sure if she would've said no.

She sat down on the edge of her bed, in front of the open balcony window that over looked the ocean. She ran a comb through her hair while lost in thought. She was glad that she had brought a second set of clothes; having come prepared in case they did decide to go to the beach. She had seen Roderich with a bag, as well. Perhaps he had the same idea.

For a moment, her thoughts floated back to him. She lowered her eyes and looked down at her hands. How many times had he held them in his larger, calloused ones the last few days? How many times had his own hands stroked her face endearingly or run through her hair.

There was a time when she had wished to feel his bare fingers against hers. Back in Vienna, so many years ago. She had purposely pretended to stumble on even the lowest of steps if only so he would extend his hand and help her up. She hated herself after their midmorning walks through the unseen parts of the garden.

He was married man back then. He wasn't some lowly colony, he was an empire. Proud. Powerful. Well-respected. And married. Why he had spent so much time with her so willingly had been lost to her, at least in the beginning. Then she had realized that it was because he wanted to. He never said a word and his face was almost always stoic, but she noticed how gentle was to her and how eyes always met hers with an intent look. He never drew back his hand when he touched her and there were times when he would continue to hold her hand long after the stairs were done.

She knew then that if they had continued on, it wouldn't be an accident. It wouldn't just be her naivety or even a friendship, if such a thing was even possible between them. It would be an affair.

Every time Elizabeta had smiled at her and welcomed her into her circle, every time his wife had asked her to join her for coffee or asked how Spain was treating her, a knife sliced at her heart.

She may have been in love with Roderich Edelstein, the Austrian Empire himself, but she would never allow him to betray another, even if he did so unwillingly.

Maria could still remember the way her heart pounded that last day. She could still see his beautiful eyes and the small hint of a smile on his usually tightly drawn lips. She had recalled a story she heard from Portugal...about a king who fell in love with his queen's lady-in-waiting and had an affair with her. A love so strong that death would not keep them apart.

She had decided. Even if she loved him, she would refuse him.

"We cannot be Ines and Pedro...not like this," Maria whispered out loud as she lifted her head and looked out the balcony. "Did you understand?"

A familiar sound reached her ears, as if to answer her. She turned her head in the direction of the sound and furrowed her brows. A violin...and the piece was familiar. Her eyes crinkled up as she recalled the night before. She had opened her window and waited for 'what would be played' for her. She didn't have to wait long.

The sound of Austria's violin wafted into her bedroom and the Philippines smiled. She closed her eyes and leaned against the windowsill, listening to the timeless melody sing to her on behalf of a man who could not openly do so. It had been a magical experience that would have lasted longer, had Gilbert not screamed out "Roderich, shut up before I shove that violin through your vital regions!"

Maria had begun to laugh as the music abruptly came to a halt. A second later, an irritated Roderich, obviously displeased that his serenade had been cut short, yelled back and told Gilbert he could play whenever he wanted. That had started a chain reaction of various yelling, including Ludwig begging at one point to just quiet down before they woke the town.

Maria had listened with amusement until it hit a peak with Romano yelling at them to just shut up and her father adding "Si! We can hear you all the way in my room!" She could've sworn she heard the sound of windows closing.

This night, however, she doubted there would be a screaming match. There was no hung over Gilbert, easily wound up Ludwig, or highly irritable Lovino. Maria was free to listen as long as he played.

Roderich stood out on his balcony, separated from Maria's by only a whitewashed wall. He held the instrument against him as he closed his eyes and imaged the former island colony listening to him. Silently, he prayed that she would hear him.

As he came to an end, he opened his eyes. To his surprise, he heard clapping and turned towards Maria's side. She was leaning over the edge of her balcony, smiling from ear to ear as twinkling dark eyes met his.

"That was beautiful!" she gushed, peering around the separating wall. Her eyes crinkled up as she smiled. "Were you playing for someone?"

He lowered his violin and came closer. "Of course."

She grinned, cheekily. "For me?"

His eyes were gentle. "Who else."

She licked her lips. "Will you play another for me?"

"I will play as long as you want me to," he told her softly. He gave her a small bow of his head and brought the violin back up.

As the strings unleashed another song, the Philippines closed her eyes and pressed her hand against the partition between them, wishing it wasn't there. The piece was entrancing, wrapping around her with notes that told her what he could not tell her with words. Just as it was the night before, he was serenading her, only without full house listening in.

There was one more additional difference...one that had influenced her decision long ago. This time, they were alone. This time, he was free to be hers.

She opened her eyes and stepped away from the wall and returned to her room.

Roderich swayed around his balcony, lost in the music and the knowledge that Maria was listening to him play his heart for her.

"I love you," it sang. "Since the first moment you smiled at me in Vienna."

The song came to a close and he opened his eyes. He turned back to the dividing wall and smiled slightly, expecting to see her smiling back.

"Maria?" There was no one. His brows furrowed as he quickly stepped closer. "Maria?" No answer.

A knock sounded at his door. He turned around and stepped through his balcony doors. He placed his instrument carefully on the dresser as he passed and quickly unlocked the door.

He took a sharp breath as he pulled it open and found a black-haired, dark-eyed female nation waiting for him. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were flickering from him to the floor, embarrassed. Her fingers knotted in front of her.

She didn't say a word and she didn't have to.

Austria stepped aside and held the door open. He released the handle as she slipped in and reached for him. The door clicked shut, not to be opened until morning, as her lips met his.

.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.
The door to the Marbella house opened. The dawn was barely breaking and to his knowledge, everyone was still asleep.

Roderich was wrong.

"What were you doing with my daughter?" a low, dangerous voice filled the silence of the first floor. Roderich turned to his left and saw a figure seated on a chair, an empty bottle in front of him.

"Spain," Austria greeted cautiously. "She accompanied me on what was supposed to be a day trip to-"

"Where is she?" Antonio cut him off. Roderich locked his jaw.

"She went to the market to get some groceries to make breakfast," he said.

Spain's green eyes narrowed dangerously. "Get your things and get out," he ordered in a cold voice. "Be gone before she returns."

The stand brunette narrowed his eyes. "She is no longer your colony, Spain-"

"She is my daughter!" the nation growled as he shot up from his seat. "And I will not trust another man with her heart! Too many have hurt her and I refuse to let another come in, before my very eyes, and ruin her again!"

"She may be your daughter, Spain, but she is not yours to control," Austria replied in a low, barbed voice. "If she wishes to see me, as I wish to see her, then you cannot stop us."

"I can," Antonio told him. "And I will."

.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.
He never meant for Maria to get hurt. He never thought she would. When he had left, leaving a note for Maria on the kitchen counter where she would find it, he remembered the story of Ines and Pedro.

Pedro's father, not wanting Spanish influence that Ines brought with her so close to the crown, tried to talk Pedro into remarrying another. When Pedro refused, the King of Portugal had his lover killed.

Austria thought that, if anything, Spain would be after him...that he was Ines.

But it was still the woman who lay unmoving on a bed.

"Maria!" Roderich closed his eyes as he heard Antonio wailing painfully from behind a closed door of the Madrid hospital. "Maria, mija, despierta! Despierta, mija! Papa se lo seinto!"

"That's enough, Antonio," Francis said as he and Gilbert tried to pull Antonio away from his unconscious daughter. "You're going to wake the entire hospital!"

"Mija!" The cries of a desperate father filled the hall. Austria remained seated, unseen in the waiting room just outside.

It had been Ludwig who contacted him, asking if Maria was with him. He had shaken his head, even though he was on the phone, and said that he left her a message to meet him in Alcobaça, Portugal.

The one who had found the message was Romano. Maria never made it to the kitchen. She had arrived and immediately gotten into an argument with Spain. The screaming lasted for an hour before she finally gathered her things and stormed out.

Maria had been headed to Vienna...and her train had gotten into an accident, derailing some cars, including the one she was in.

Spain's tortured wail filled the air as the doors swung open and Francis and Gilbert physically dragged him out. They apologized to the nurses as Austria watched in silence. As soon as they were gone, he rose from his seat. He had waited the entire day for this.

He slipped through the doors of the single occupant room where Maria was laying in bed, needles piercing her veins to give her life-giving liquid nutrients. Her eyes were closed and one had a large bruise. Her head was bandaged, as was her right arm and left leg. Roderich bit his lower lip to keep from crying out her name as well.

Just the night before, she had been in his arms, safe and content with a soft smile on her unmarred face. He had stroked her hair back and whispered in her ear words he could never normally bring himself to say. Now, she was unconscious. He never dreamed so much could happen in such a short amount of time.

Silently, he took a seat beside her and reached for her hand.

"I didn't understand, you know," he admitted quietly as he stroked the back of her hand. "What you meant by Ines and Pedro. It took me years to figure it out." He let out a small, bittersweet laugh. "You weren't telling me no...you were telling me to wait," he choked out, his hand trembling has he grasped hers. "That's what they said, right? Until the world ends...I understand." He smiled as tears rimmed his eyes. "I was going to wait for you in Alcobaça. I wanted to be with you there, so we could look at their tombs together.

"Until the world ends isn't referring to how long they love each other...it is a promise that they will meet again, isn't it? When the mortal world gives way to rebirth; they made a promise, Maria. That they will be together again...." He brought her hand to his lips and pressed his shaking ones upon it. "And I will wait for you," he whispered as he lowered her hand and gently rubbed her ring finger. His other hand held a small silver band -a trinket he had bought on the way to Alcobaça that he hoped would make due. "I will wait...," he kissed her finger once more as he rose from his seat and lowered her hand gently back beside her.

"Até o fim do mundo."

The doors swung closed as he exited the room. The lights automatically switched off and the hum of the machines took over.

From her bed, her eyes still closed, Maria's fingers began to twitch.

.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.

Epilogue
She opened her eyes slowly, adjusting to the bright light that pierced her thin curtains. Beside her, his brown hair scattered around her threadbare pillows, was a sleeping nation. A soft smile reached her face as she lifted her hand and stroked back the bangs that were falling over his eyes.

Her touch awakened him and he stirred, slowly moving his head as a small groan escaped him. "Maria...?" his voice was hopeful, yet at the same time worried that she would not be there.

"Good morning," she whispered. His eyes remained closed as he tilted his head towards her hand and kissed her palm. She was there with him.

"It is too early to rise," he mumbled. She felt his arms wrap around her beneath the thin blanket. It was all he could sleep in considering the heat of the islands, despite the air conditioner being on the entire night. "I'm still tired, Maria. It is a long ways from Vienna to Manila." He nuzzled to the top of her head with his chin as he brought her closer to him. "I want to sleep some more."

She smiled softly and tilted her head up, kissing his neck and jaw line to urge him awake. "You have to get up some time."

Purple eyes finally opened and looked down at her. A pale hand reached up and stroked her face. He had not taken his ring -a small trinket from Alcobaça -off his finger, she noticed. She smiled and ran her hand through the back of his thick hair. She had not removed hers, either.

"I'm glad I came," he told her softly. The heat would kill him, but he didn't care.

"Will you come again next year?" she asked. They were not married. No...marriages weren't for nations.

"I will come again next year," he told her. "And the next, and every year until the world ends." They had just merely made a promise.

She looked at him curiously. "And when it does?"

His eyes met hers lovingly. "Then I will never have to leave you again."

Like Pedro and Ines.

.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.

A.N. -While I'm not a fan of carrying on affairs while married, regardless of the issues behind the marriage, I have to admit that the story of King Pedro I and Ines de Castro is romantic, if not a tad bit creepy. The gist is, after his wife, Constanza, died, Pedro, heir to the Portuguese throne, declared his love for Spanish aristocrat, Ines. His father was worried that Spanish influence was too close to the Portuguese throne, so he refused to let Pedro marry Ines and had her killed. Pedro then started a revolt against his father (and lost), but his father died a year later and Pedro took the crown.

Legend has it that he exhumed the body of Ines, had her dressed as a queen, declared AS HIS QUEEN, and had the nobles and clergy of Portugal kiss her ring-encrusted corpse hand. They are now buried in the same church, in tombs that are facing each other, so when they are resurrected, they will be together again.

I'm sure there is more to this than a love story, like politics, rivalries, betrayal, and so forth, but, it does make for a good movie.

Anyway, thank you for reading! This is a fanfic/fanart trade with stilettopink. I sincerely hope I didn't fail you. I know it's a bit rushed, but I was kind of hoping to get it up quickly. I'm sorry if it's terrible. T_T I believe her part of the trade will be posted here, as well.