[CHALLENGE] the past is gone and the world is quiet - Past
Title: the past is gone, and the world is quiet
Prompt: Past
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters/Pairings: Spain, Romano
Warnings: some foul language courtesy of Lovino
Notes: This one was more historical, although it's as vague as usual OTL. It's basically Spain reminiscing about his old glory (and not so glorious) days. Right now Spain's in really deep shit economy wise, so at the end Lovino comes around and tries to cheer him up. But it's mostly reminiscing, and some angst. Also, woah really long title.
His house had been grand once, with hand-carved statues flanking the doorways and elegant mahogany banisters curving around marble steps. There had been gigantic windows and silken drapes, flying high in the breeze. There had been bright chandeliers, a million shards of reflective glass.
There had been an endless supply of wine and meat, the freshest seafood delivered to the king himself, and dinnerware so polished that it could have also served as both mirrors and barter goods.
There had been a long table with so many chairs.
Antonio pretends that the shadows on the wall are people - Nations now - people that he had (and always will have) loved. He likes to think that they had left because their people, their blood, had forced them to, and not because they hated him. It's impossible, he thinks, not when he grew attached and just wanted the best for them.
(But the empire is first, and always will be)
Antonio remembers waking up in a mess on his office desk (fragile papers scattered everywhere, fresh ink stains already stamped onto his skin, dried saliva, warped wood and a candle that drips wax on the floor with a flame that threatens to disappear) and suddenly knows that he has lost everything.
He remembers teaching them prayers, listening to the younger ones stumble over the Latin. Their words slip and their tones are drawn-out. He remembers teaching them the alternative in Spanish, and they fare better.
The older ones pray in both, reciting one after the other.
He smiles.
Prayers will not help now.
Who is there to pray for?
Antonio remembers valiant men and majestic ships, their masts flying in the ocean wind. He remembers the iron horses and iron soldiers merely leaving a metallic tang in his mouth. He remembers his childhood, dark and simple, and he remembers his death (all of them) and his rebirth (every single one).
He remembers his past, and tries to smile.
It will get better. It always does. He's been through worse.
"Tomato bastard?" Lovino asks, his voice familiar. Antonio grins wide and welcomes him with open arms, crushing the younger boy's face against his neck.
"Lovino! You visited. Oh, I'm so happy!"
Lovino squirms in his embrace, his cheeks reddening.
"Get away from me, you pervert! I'm only here because, uh, because it's tomato season and you should do something more productive, you sorry ass. I know your economy is shit, but it's hell everywhere, and-" He swallows, chokes down his pride (for once, oh, he's learning!) and stutters. "And, uh, you should cheer up. Being sad and broody, that's not right."
Antonio laughs, ruffling Lovino's hair.
"Ah, Lovino is so kind. Well then, thank you for the offer. I'll get some baskets and we'll go pick your favorites. Want some for free?"
Lovino nods guiltily, but Antonio lets him have them.
(He's the only one that comes back)
Prompt: Past
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters/Pairings: Spain, Romano
Warnings: some foul language courtesy of Lovino
Notes: This one was more historical, although it's as vague as usual OTL. It's basically Spain reminiscing about his old glory (and not so glorious) days. Right now Spain's in really deep shit economy wise, so at the end Lovino comes around and tries to cheer him up. But it's mostly reminiscing, and some angst. Also, woah really long title.
His house had been grand once, with hand-carved statues flanking the doorways and elegant mahogany banisters curving around marble steps. There had been gigantic windows and silken drapes, flying high in the breeze. There had been bright chandeliers, a million shards of reflective glass.
There had been an endless supply of wine and meat, the freshest seafood delivered to the king himself, and dinnerware so polished that it could have also served as both mirrors and barter goods.
There had been a long table with so many chairs.
Antonio pretends that the shadows on the wall are people - Nations now - people that he had (and always will have) loved. He likes to think that they had left because their people, their blood, had forced them to, and not because they hated him. It's impossible, he thinks, not when he grew attached and just wanted the best for them.
(But the empire is first, and always will be)
Antonio remembers waking up in a mess on his office desk (fragile papers scattered everywhere, fresh ink stains already stamped onto his skin, dried saliva, warped wood and a candle that drips wax on the floor with a flame that threatens to disappear) and suddenly knows that he has lost everything.
He remembers teaching them prayers, listening to the younger ones stumble over the Latin. Their words slip and their tones are drawn-out. He remembers teaching them the alternative in Spanish, and they fare better.
The older ones pray in both, reciting one after the other.
He smiles.
Prayers will not help now.
Who is there to pray for?
Antonio remembers valiant men and majestic ships, their masts flying in the ocean wind. He remembers the iron horses and iron soldiers merely leaving a metallic tang in his mouth. He remembers his childhood, dark and simple, and he remembers his death (all of them) and his rebirth (every single one).
He remembers his past, and tries to smile.
It will get better. It always does. He's been through worse.
"Tomato bastard?" Lovino asks, his voice familiar. Antonio grins wide and welcomes him with open arms, crushing the younger boy's face against his neck.
"Lovino! You visited. Oh, I'm so happy!"
Lovino squirms in his embrace, his cheeks reddening.
"Get away from me, you pervert! I'm only here because, uh, because it's tomato season and you should do something more productive, you sorry ass. I know your economy is shit, but it's hell everywhere, and-" He swallows, chokes down his pride (for once, oh, he's learning!) and stutters. "And, uh, you should cheer up. Being sad and broody, that's not right."
Antonio laughs, ruffling Lovino's hair.
"Ah, Lovino is so kind. Well then, thank you for the offer. I'll get some baskets and we'll go pick your favorites. Want some for free?"
Lovino nods guiltily, but Antonio lets him have them.
(He's the only one that comes back)