[fic] Rumours
Title: Rumours
Author: tiger_azul
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Lithuania/Poland, Turkey
Rating: G
Genre: Drama / Romance
Word Count: about 2100
Notes: for hetalia_contest, Prompt 028: Gossip (oneshot)
Summary: Gossip and rumour are rife throughout Europe following the Partitions of Poland. Lithuania finds out from Turkey that reports of Poland’s death may have been greatly exaggerated.
Rumours
What happened to a Nation whose lands were carved up and dished out to satisfy the greed of others?
What happened to a Nation who had been issued a death sentence, who had been erased from the map completely?
Lithuania did not know the answers to any of these questions. All he knew was that he had not seen him since the final Partition, since the destruction of their Commonwealth.
But rumours and gossip abounded.
Poland was dying. Poland was dead.
Poland was alive…
It was as if Lithuania was half-blind and limping from one day to the next, his senses dulled by the hole in his heart. By coming here, deep in the heartland of a Nation he had long considered an enemy, Lithuania risked everything and nothing. Everything, because it was forbidden and he knew that Russia’s wrath had no limits, nothing because he had suffered so much already there was naught else to lose.
Lithuania watched the deft hands of the kahvehane serving boy as he prepared the kahve, carefully distributing the foam evenly between the two cups and setting them before Lithuania and his masked companion.
“Afiyet olsun!” the boy exclaimed with a smile and a nod as he hurried away to tend to the other clientele.
“Kahve cehennem kadar koyu, ölüm kadar güçlü ve aşk kadar tatlı olmalıdır.” Turkey raised the cup to his lips and nodded appreciatively.
“Coffee,” he translated, “should be as black as hell, strong as death and sweet as love.”
“How poetic.”
Turkey simply chuckled at the sarcasm.
“Yes,” he replied, taking another sip. “I like to think so.”
They were in Constantinople’s finest and oldest kahvehane, a teeming hive that buzzed with people and ideas.
“May I respectfully remind you,” Lithuania said, pushing his cup to one side, “that I did not come here to drink coffee with you, Turkey.”
“Patience, my friend. You will get what you seek in time. For now, I suggest that you relax and enjoy the entertainments. You see that gentleman over there?” Turkey indicated towards a man a few feet away who was performing some sort of routine with an assortment of props. “He is a meddah, a storyteller, and one of my finest at that.”
On principle, Lithuania refused to drink the coffee. It had things floating in it and while it certainly looked as black as hell, he did not wish to discover how strong or sweet it was. He distrusted Turkey and could feel his temper rising at being made to wait.
Though he could not understand the meddah, it was clear that he was acting out several roles as he told his tales, using the props, a handkerchief, an umbrella and a variety of hats, to denote the different characters. However, the meddah’s skill was such that his voice and mannerisms transformed completely with each person he played, making these props redundant. From time to time, the audience, Turkey included, would laugh or clap.
Skilful or not, the language barrier gradually caused Lithuania to lose interest, until the meddah used a voice that made his stomach lurch.
“So, yeah, the rumours are, like, totally true. I mean, some of them, anyways. Obv not the ones saying that I’m, like, dead, right? Or else how could I be standing here saying this, y’know?”
That voice, that laugh… Even the storyteller’s face had changed somehow. He had that same irresistible half-smile, cocked his head the same way…
Lithuania swore and knocked over the table as he recklessly jumped to his feet. He did not care that the hands of every man present had rushed to their weapons as the porcelain shattered and the coffee splashed onto the stone floor. He would deal with them all later. For now, his greatest desire was to forcibly remove the smug grin from Turkey’s lips with his fist.
“How dare you… How dare you?” Cold fury shone in his eyes. “You bring me here to mock me? Is that it?”
Turkey quickly waved at the customers of the kahvehane, wordlessly instructing them to sheath their weapons. He shook his head.
“No, Lithuania, you misunderstand. Perhaps I was wrong to bring you here first, but I only wanted to show you some Turkish hospitality.” Turkey took Lithuania’s arm. “Come, I can explain everything.”
They left the kahvehane and Turkey guided Lithuania past the bustling square and the cacophony of sights, sounds and smells that was the bazaar, through the jostling crowds and along the labyrinthine alleyways. Finally, they came to a dark, musty street. Lithuania would not have spotted the door if Turkey had not stopped in front of it, the aged wood’s colours had faded into the sandy stone that surrounded it. Knocking three times, Turkey flung the door open to reveal a room containing a slim figure draped in green silk veils, sitting cross-legged on sumptuous cushions of brocade and velvet and smoking a sisha, who emitted an eardrum-bursting squeal at the sight of Lithuania. Before Lithuania had any time to react, the stranger had leapt at him in a mad jangle of jewellery and kissed him.
Roughly pushing the assailant away and spitting the taste of smoked apple from his mouth, Lithuania rounded on Turkey, his cheeks aflame.
“What the hell is this place? Don’t you think you have insulted me enough today?”
“Um, hell-o! It’s me you big idiot!”
The shimmering head veil was cast to the floor, uncovering the apparition that had been haunting Lithuania’s fitful sleep.
“But… no…” Lithuania backed away. “It’s a trick… it cannot be true…”
Lithuania’s fingers twitched as he restrained the instinctive impulse to hold that face in his hands, for fear that Turkey was playing a cruel trick (and if he was, Lithuania resolved to make him suffer for it), for fear that the ghost before him would crumble to dust at his touch.
“Like, duh! Did you really think those bastards could finish me off? For serious?” Poland asked reproachfully, hand on hip.
“But Russia… Russia told me that you were… that he… that…”
“Ugh. Russia? That douche, you’ve been listening to him? I don’t think he’s, like, ever really gotten over all that junk we did to him in the seventeenth century. The dude is one seriously sore loser.”
Relief washed over Lithuania like a wave, it seemed to stop his tongue from functioning properly, it was so overwhelming that it threatened to make his legs collapse from beneath him.
“I-I just… I just can’t believe it… You’re alive…”
Poland pinched Lithuania’s side. Hard.
“Ow!”
“Believe it, Liet,” he smiled, tossing his hair back. “I mean, technically, Russia, Prussia and Austria have chopped me up into itty bitty pieces. But I’m still here. My theory is that I’m not dead ’cause my people are still alive and they want me to still be alive. That’s the thing about being a Nation. You, like, live through your people, and mine are as stubborn as hell. You’re strong when they are and all that kinda stuff. It’s, like, a simian thing.”
Lithuania frowned.
“Um… I think you might mean a symbiotic thing.”
“Yeah!” Poland chirped brightly. “It’s totally symbiotic!”
Poland’s belief did seem right. A Nation was born of his or her people and evolved as they did. Unless a Nation’s people were completely annihilated, Lithuania shuddered at the thought, then a Nation could survive anything.
“But you and Turkey? How did this happen? Why did this happen?”
“You know how it is, Liet. My enemy’s enemy is, like, totally my enemy.”
Turkey and Lithuania exchanged glances. Although what Poland said did not quite make sense, Lithuania, as always, knew what he was trying to say.
“So Turkey hates Russia’s guts, too,” Poland continued, “and he said I could crash at his place for now.”
“I know that I have not always been on the best of terms with you and Poland, Lithuania...” Turkey began.
Lithuania snorted. “Yes, to put it very mildly!”
“…and then there was all that business in Vienna in 1683...”
Poland playfully hit Turkey’s arm. “Yeah, where I totally kicked your ass and stopped you invading Europe!”
To Turkey’s credit, Lithuania observed that he appeared to take Poland’s somewhat tactless remark in good humour.
“Yes,” Turkey admitted with a small smile. “Poland defeated me quite spectacularly in that battle. I have great respect for bravery, Lithuania, regardless of whether it comes from a friend or a foe. And I have been watching the moves that Russia has been making across Europe, and I cannot say I like it. Unfortunately, the Western Nations have been distracted by the revolution in France, or else I think that more would have been done about the crimes that have been committed against Poland. I have told him that he can stay with me for as long as he needs.”
“It’s been kinda fun, actually. I’ve taken up belly dancing, my teacher said I totally have natural rhythm, and I’ve been doing weddings and circumcision celebrations… The Turkish really know how to party!”
Poland grinned widely and treated Lithuania to a brief hip shimmy. Lithuania quickly closed his mouth, unsure as to how long it had been hanging open. Turkey cleared his throat.
“I will take my leave now. I am sure the two of you would appreciate some private time.” Turkey nodded at them both and swept out of the room.
“What exactly is going on between you two?” Lithuania hissed as he grabbed Poland’s arm.
Poland rolled his eyes. “Oh for crying out loud, Liet! Me and Turkey? As if! Yeah, so he’s quite the hottie and everything…”
“Wait!” Lithuania interrupted. “What? You’ve seen him without his mask?”
“Oh yeah, tons of times. And he’s, like, super cute and all, but so not my type.”
He gave a lazy half-smile. Lithuania remembered how he had physically ached when he thought of Poland’s smile in the years they had been apart. He covered his face with a shaky hand. For so long he had not even dared to allow himself the smallest sliver of hope.
“God! I thought that I’d lost you!”
“Yeah, I know,” Poland said quietly. “I’m sorry, but I had to go underground. I didn’t have any way of contacting you, you know I would’ve if I could.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” said Lithuania as he took Poland’s hand. It fit his exactly how he remembered it. “You’re safe, that’s all I care about. But it must have been terrible for you. What they did…” Lithuania stopped, his mouth set in grim line.
“Yeah, it was. Is, I mean. Austria and Prussia are bad, but Russia… Man! Did you know he’s been trying to make me speak Russian? And my people are like, whatevs you big, fat asshole, and speaking Polish anyway.”
Poland shook his head and laughed. “And then he said that I couldn’t build any churches on my land…”
Lithuania groaned. “Poland, what did you do?”
“Get this, I built one over a river instead. He was totes pissed, it was hilarious! So, I, like, didn’t break any of his stupid rules or anything. But he still punched me in the face anyway.”
Lithuania’s palms had turned into ice. He was all too aware of the damage Russia’s fists could inflict.
“It stung like a bitch, but it was worth it,” said Poland, rubbing over his jaw and over the memory of the bruise. His eyes narrowed and Lithuania saw something flash in him that so many failed to, often at their cost. Poland was like a diamond, all glittery on the outside, but hard to the core.
“And I would totally do it again.”
Lithuania pulled his hand from Poland’s, suddenly irritated.
“Why are you always trying to provoke him, Poland? You know how powerful he is, how power hungry he is!”
“So, you’re saying I should stop trying?”
“No! Just be careful, for God’s sake! Do you want to make things worse? Everything we’ve ever had has been taken from us, burnt to ash, crushed to rubble!”
“That’s where you are so wrong! This still belongs to you!” Poland’s bangles clattered as he slapped the back of Lithuania’s head.
“Ow!”
“And this…” Poland pressed his hand on Lithuania’s chest. The heat from Poland’s fingers seeped through the thin layer of cotton and Lithuania’s heart quickened in response.
“Hope is, like, the only thing I have left, Liet!” Poland told him, eyes bright and flushing with indignation. “So don’t you tell me that’s not real, that’s not worth fighting for, because I’m not going to let go of it!”
Poland may not have been as strong as he once was, but he was still full of fire and fight. And that, thought Lithuania, is why I love him, and why I will always love him.
“You’re right,“ Lithuania whispered, “but you’re wrong, too. You also have me.”
Poland crumpled gratefully into Lithuania’s embrace. Lithuania knew that Poland wanted to cry, but also knew that he wouldn’t. He was far too proud for that.
“And I’m not going to let go of you, either.”
Notes
Translations:
A kahvehane is a Turkish coffee shop and kahve is Turkish coffee (but you probably guessed that!)
Afiyet olsun lit. good appetite to you.
History stuff:
The Ottoman Empire (i.e. Turkey) was the only major power which did not recognise the Partitions of Poland. Their mutual enmity with Russia made the Empire close allies with Poland, who was once its bitter enemy. Thousands of Poles found refuge in the Ottoman Empire after the unsuccessful uprisings in 1830 and 1863, a Polish diplomatic mission was maintained in Constantinople and a permanent Polish settlement was made in the village of Adampol.
The church Poland is referring to is the kaplica na wodzie (the ‘Chapel on the Water’) near Kraków in Ojców National Park.
Oh, and the anachronisms involved in writing Poland’s valspeak for this period made my brain ache a little... But I couldn’t imagine him without it ;)
Author: tiger_azul
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Lithuania/Poland, Turkey
Rating: G
Genre: Drama / Romance
Word Count: about 2100
Notes: for hetalia_contest, Prompt 028: Gossip (oneshot)
Summary: Gossip and rumour are rife throughout Europe following the Partitions of Poland. Lithuania finds out from Turkey that reports of Poland’s death may have been greatly exaggerated.
Rumours
What happened to a Nation whose lands were carved up and dished out to satisfy the greed of others?
What happened to a Nation who had been issued a death sentence, who had been erased from the map completely?
Lithuania did not know the answers to any of these questions. All he knew was that he had not seen him since the final Partition, since the destruction of their Commonwealth.
But rumours and gossip abounded.
Poland was dying. Poland was dead.
Poland was alive…
It was as if Lithuania was half-blind and limping from one day to the next, his senses dulled by the hole in his heart. By coming here, deep in the heartland of a Nation he had long considered an enemy, Lithuania risked everything and nothing. Everything, because it was forbidden and he knew that Russia’s wrath had no limits, nothing because he had suffered so much already there was naught else to lose.
Lithuania watched the deft hands of the kahvehane serving boy as he prepared the kahve, carefully distributing the foam evenly between the two cups and setting them before Lithuania and his masked companion.
“Afiyet olsun!” the boy exclaimed with a smile and a nod as he hurried away to tend to the other clientele.
“Kahve cehennem kadar koyu, ölüm kadar güçlü ve aşk kadar tatlı olmalıdır.” Turkey raised the cup to his lips and nodded appreciatively.
“Coffee,” he translated, “should be as black as hell, strong as death and sweet as love.”
“How poetic.”
Turkey simply chuckled at the sarcasm.
“Yes,” he replied, taking another sip. “I like to think so.”
They were in Constantinople’s finest and oldest kahvehane, a teeming hive that buzzed with people and ideas.
“May I respectfully remind you,” Lithuania said, pushing his cup to one side, “that I did not come here to drink coffee with you, Turkey.”
“Patience, my friend. You will get what you seek in time. For now, I suggest that you relax and enjoy the entertainments. You see that gentleman over there?” Turkey indicated towards a man a few feet away who was performing some sort of routine with an assortment of props. “He is a meddah, a storyteller, and one of my finest at that.”
On principle, Lithuania refused to drink the coffee. It had things floating in it and while it certainly looked as black as hell, he did not wish to discover how strong or sweet it was. He distrusted Turkey and could feel his temper rising at being made to wait.
Though he could not understand the meddah, it was clear that he was acting out several roles as he told his tales, using the props, a handkerchief, an umbrella and a variety of hats, to denote the different characters. However, the meddah’s skill was such that his voice and mannerisms transformed completely with each person he played, making these props redundant. From time to time, the audience, Turkey included, would laugh or clap.
Skilful or not, the language barrier gradually caused Lithuania to lose interest, until the meddah used a voice that made his stomach lurch.
“So, yeah, the rumours are, like, totally true. I mean, some of them, anyways. Obv not the ones saying that I’m, like, dead, right? Or else how could I be standing here saying this, y’know?”
That voice, that laugh… Even the storyteller’s face had changed somehow. He had that same irresistible half-smile, cocked his head the same way…
Lithuania swore and knocked over the table as he recklessly jumped to his feet. He did not care that the hands of every man present had rushed to their weapons as the porcelain shattered and the coffee splashed onto the stone floor. He would deal with them all later. For now, his greatest desire was to forcibly remove the smug grin from Turkey’s lips with his fist.
“How dare you… How dare you?” Cold fury shone in his eyes. “You bring me here to mock me? Is that it?”
Turkey quickly waved at the customers of the kahvehane, wordlessly instructing them to sheath their weapons. He shook his head.
“No, Lithuania, you misunderstand. Perhaps I was wrong to bring you here first, but I only wanted to show you some Turkish hospitality.” Turkey took Lithuania’s arm. “Come, I can explain everything.”
They left the kahvehane and Turkey guided Lithuania past the bustling square and the cacophony of sights, sounds and smells that was the bazaar, through the jostling crowds and along the labyrinthine alleyways. Finally, they came to a dark, musty street. Lithuania would not have spotted the door if Turkey had not stopped in front of it, the aged wood’s colours had faded into the sandy stone that surrounded it. Knocking three times, Turkey flung the door open to reveal a room containing a slim figure draped in green silk veils, sitting cross-legged on sumptuous cushions of brocade and velvet and smoking a sisha, who emitted an eardrum-bursting squeal at the sight of Lithuania. Before Lithuania had any time to react, the stranger had leapt at him in a mad jangle of jewellery and kissed him.
Roughly pushing the assailant away and spitting the taste of smoked apple from his mouth, Lithuania rounded on Turkey, his cheeks aflame.
“What the hell is this place? Don’t you think you have insulted me enough today?”
“Um, hell-o! It’s me you big idiot!”
The shimmering head veil was cast to the floor, uncovering the apparition that had been haunting Lithuania’s fitful sleep.
“But… no…” Lithuania backed away. “It’s a trick… it cannot be true…”
Lithuania’s fingers twitched as he restrained the instinctive impulse to hold that face in his hands, for fear that Turkey was playing a cruel trick (and if he was, Lithuania resolved to make him suffer for it), for fear that the ghost before him would crumble to dust at his touch.
“Like, duh! Did you really think those bastards could finish me off? For serious?” Poland asked reproachfully, hand on hip.
“But Russia… Russia told me that you were… that he… that…”
“Ugh. Russia? That douche, you’ve been listening to him? I don’t think he’s, like, ever really gotten over all that junk we did to him in the seventeenth century. The dude is one seriously sore loser.”
Relief washed over Lithuania like a wave, it seemed to stop his tongue from functioning properly, it was so overwhelming that it threatened to make his legs collapse from beneath him.
“I-I just… I just can’t believe it… You’re alive…”
Poland pinched Lithuania’s side. Hard.
“Ow!”
“Believe it, Liet,” he smiled, tossing his hair back. “I mean, technically, Russia, Prussia and Austria have chopped me up into itty bitty pieces. But I’m still here. My theory is that I’m not dead ’cause my people are still alive and they want me to still be alive. That’s the thing about being a Nation. You, like, live through your people, and mine are as stubborn as hell. You’re strong when they are and all that kinda stuff. It’s, like, a simian thing.”
Lithuania frowned.
“Um… I think you might mean a symbiotic thing.”
“Yeah!” Poland chirped brightly. “It’s totally symbiotic!”
Poland’s belief did seem right. A Nation was born of his or her people and evolved as they did. Unless a Nation’s people were completely annihilated, Lithuania shuddered at the thought, then a Nation could survive anything.
“But you and Turkey? How did this happen? Why did this happen?”
“You know how it is, Liet. My enemy’s enemy is, like, totally my enemy.”
Turkey and Lithuania exchanged glances. Although what Poland said did not quite make sense, Lithuania, as always, knew what he was trying to say.
“So Turkey hates Russia’s guts, too,” Poland continued, “and he said I could crash at his place for now.”
“I know that I have not always been on the best of terms with you and Poland, Lithuania...” Turkey began.
Lithuania snorted. “Yes, to put it very mildly!”
“…and then there was all that business in Vienna in 1683...”
Poland playfully hit Turkey’s arm. “Yeah, where I totally kicked your ass and stopped you invading Europe!”
To Turkey’s credit, Lithuania observed that he appeared to take Poland’s somewhat tactless remark in good humour.
“Yes,” Turkey admitted with a small smile. “Poland defeated me quite spectacularly in that battle. I have great respect for bravery, Lithuania, regardless of whether it comes from a friend or a foe. And I have been watching the moves that Russia has been making across Europe, and I cannot say I like it. Unfortunately, the Western Nations have been distracted by the revolution in France, or else I think that more would have been done about the crimes that have been committed against Poland. I have told him that he can stay with me for as long as he needs.”
“It’s been kinda fun, actually. I’ve taken up belly dancing, my teacher said I totally have natural rhythm, and I’ve been doing weddings and circumcision celebrations… The Turkish really know how to party!”
Poland grinned widely and treated Lithuania to a brief hip shimmy. Lithuania quickly closed his mouth, unsure as to how long it had been hanging open. Turkey cleared his throat.
“I will take my leave now. I am sure the two of you would appreciate some private time.” Turkey nodded at them both and swept out of the room.
“What exactly is going on between you two?” Lithuania hissed as he grabbed Poland’s arm.
Poland rolled his eyes. “Oh for crying out loud, Liet! Me and Turkey? As if! Yeah, so he’s quite the hottie and everything…”
“Wait!” Lithuania interrupted. “What? You’ve seen him without his mask?”
“Oh yeah, tons of times. And he’s, like, super cute and all, but so not my type.”
He gave a lazy half-smile. Lithuania remembered how he had physically ached when he thought of Poland’s smile in the years they had been apart. He covered his face with a shaky hand. For so long he had not even dared to allow himself the smallest sliver of hope.
“God! I thought that I’d lost you!”
“Yeah, I know,” Poland said quietly. “I’m sorry, but I had to go underground. I didn’t have any way of contacting you, you know I would’ve if I could.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” said Lithuania as he took Poland’s hand. It fit his exactly how he remembered it. “You’re safe, that’s all I care about. But it must have been terrible for you. What they did…” Lithuania stopped, his mouth set in grim line.
“Yeah, it was. Is, I mean. Austria and Prussia are bad, but Russia… Man! Did you know he’s been trying to make me speak Russian? And my people are like, whatevs you big, fat asshole, and speaking Polish anyway.”
Poland shook his head and laughed. “And then he said that I couldn’t build any churches on my land…”
Lithuania groaned. “Poland, what did you do?”
“Get this, I built one over a river instead. He was totes pissed, it was hilarious! So, I, like, didn’t break any of his stupid rules or anything. But he still punched me in the face anyway.”
Lithuania’s palms had turned into ice. He was all too aware of the damage Russia’s fists could inflict.
“It stung like a bitch, but it was worth it,” said Poland, rubbing over his jaw and over the memory of the bruise. His eyes narrowed and Lithuania saw something flash in him that so many failed to, often at their cost. Poland was like a diamond, all glittery on the outside, but hard to the core.
“And I would totally do it again.”
Lithuania pulled his hand from Poland’s, suddenly irritated.
“Why are you always trying to provoke him, Poland? You know how powerful he is, how power hungry he is!”
“So, you’re saying I should stop trying?”
“No! Just be careful, for God’s sake! Do you want to make things worse? Everything we’ve ever had has been taken from us, burnt to ash, crushed to rubble!”
“That’s where you are so wrong! This still belongs to you!” Poland’s bangles clattered as he slapped the back of Lithuania’s head.
“Ow!”
“And this…” Poland pressed his hand on Lithuania’s chest. The heat from Poland’s fingers seeped through the thin layer of cotton and Lithuania’s heart quickened in response.
“Hope is, like, the only thing I have left, Liet!” Poland told him, eyes bright and flushing with indignation. “So don’t you tell me that’s not real, that’s not worth fighting for, because I’m not going to let go of it!”
Poland may not have been as strong as he once was, but he was still full of fire and fight. And that, thought Lithuania, is why I love him, and why I will always love him.
“You’re right,“ Lithuania whispered, “but you’re wrong, too. You also have me.”
Poland crumpled gratefully into Lithuania’s embrace. Lithuania knew that Poland wanted to cry, but also knew that he wouldn’t. He was far too proud for that.
“And I’m not going to let go of you, either.”
Notes
Translations:
A kahvehane is a Turkish coffee shop and kahve is Turkish coffee (but you probably guessed that!)
Afiyet olsun lit. good appetite to you.
History stuff:
The Ottoman Empire (i.e. Turkey) was the only major power which did not recognise the Partitions of Poland. Their mutual enmity with Russia made the Empire close allies with Poland, who was once its bitter enemy. Thousands of Poles found refuge in the Ottoman Empire after the unsuccessful uprisings in 1830 and 1863, a Polish diplomatic mission was maintained in Constantinople and a permanent Polish settlement was made in the village of Adampol.
The church Poland is referring to is the kaplica na wodzie (the ‘Chapel on the Water’) near Kraków in Ojców National Park.
Oh, and the anachronisms involved in writing Poland’s valspeak for this period made my brain ache a little... But I couldn’t imagine him without it ;)