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ifyouwantsalseo · 4 years ago

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@hetaliamondaychallenge July 6: “No matter where I go, my heart will always be yours”

Category: Fanfic.

Pair: SpAus/AuSpa

Words: 2.619.

Genre: Historical, Shounen-ai.

Note(s): this occurs just before the Spanish Sucession War (1701-1714) started, in which France and Austria were the main oponents.

1700

- What!? Some Frenchmen in the border of Castile don’t allow us to enter!?

Austria yelled to the informer that had just arrived from a few meters in front. The poor boy lowered his head as his master continued yelling and calling him “fool”.

That had actually been happening lately. The Austrian nation had been in a quite a bitter mood since the latest Spanish king had passed away and the fresh news from Versailles had arrived to Vienne.

Everyone in the imperial palace of Hofburg had heard the wrathful yell of the country when he read that France was trying to take over the newly vacant Spanish throne. A moments later, the most ominous and choleric piano melody had filled the palace, just as Austria’s mood became worse.

How could that dirty French try to take the place that was obviously a Habsburg property!? Austria immediately hastened the preparation for the travel to Spain that has been preparing for weeks –he obviously had thought about visiting his husband after such a loss-, and immediately departed with a bunch of his henchman.

He had took a ship from the Habsburg lands of Toscana and had landed in Barcelona, and now was willing to pass from the Spanish Aragonese provinces to the Castillian ones, in order to reach to Madrid. He had expected getting into Madrid in a couple of days at most, but suddenly the found out that some Frenchmen blocked the way. He frowned just by imagining the reason behind that.

Getting out of the carriage, he proudly stepped in the direction of the previously said Frenchmen while his henchmen tried to suffocate his wrath telling him to relax. He didn’t.

He couldn’t.

- Who in the hell are you, you shameless gits!? We are in a royal amendment, and this is a direct offense to the Austrian crown!

The French looked at each other’s eyes a little bit intimidated by this aristocrat with German accent, but they didn’t freed the way. One of them, anyway, looked at Austria and replied–. We are just following the orders, sir. We aren’t allowed to let any suspicious foreigner group get in.

Austria struggled. – Oh, gosh! This is ridiculous! –he complained. After a moment of saying some unintelligible things in German, he turned back and, even if he already knew the answer, questioned-. Okay, well. Who has issued the order? –and a moment later, one of them said it.

- It has been directly commanded from son eminence la France.

It was only for a moment, but Austria could have sworn that he noticed how the lenses of his glasses cracked. His eye trembled from the rising stream of pent-up anger and he gritted his teeth.

How dare he!

- I, as the sovereign country of the Austrian Empire, command to have an audience with him right now! Tell him that I’m waiting for him to come or directly get me there now.

After knowing about his true identity the men went white and one of the immediately offered Austria a horse, implying that he would be the only one that could pass. Austria didn’t mind it at all.

In the end that was only between him and France.

{ . . . }

A three or four hours later he found himself entering in a powerful castle well defended and guarded. Even if he was all exhausted from the travel, he did still maintain his distinctive attitude and typical high chin when he entered the castle. He listened at how his presence was released to someone –even if he could easily know to who- a few moments before breaking into the main room.

He had never hated so much that presumptuous Frenchie face before this time. France’s eyes had an ironic sparkle, as if he were mocking him with his eyes.

- What an unexpected visit, mon ami. What could I do for you?

- Don’t give me that shit, you fool! –he couldn’t do anything but explode-. What do you think you’re doing in Spanish territory? –France’s eyes twinkled.

- You know pretty well the reason why, little one.

Austria wandered, snorting. – Rubbish. The reasons that defend the putting of a French king on the Spanish throne are only the ravings of a dying man; they don’t make any real justification.

- A dying man that happened to be the latest king. –whispered, with a victorious grin-. Get over it, Austria. Charles preferred Philip and the Bourbons over your old fashioned Habsburgs. And I bet Spain will corroborate it when I am accepted in his court and his be-

- Don’t you dare to say another obscenity like that about my spouse! I swear to God I’m not going to go easy on you if you start a war over him.

Right after hearing that, France stopped at stared at the fire of the hearth. Austria stopped too, confused.

France suddenly looked very strong, very serious and very threatening. He remained quiet for a long moment, scratching the surface of the wooden table next to him.

Then, he spoke.

- I was willing to speak about that with you, my old friend. –he said, and suddenly he directed his blue eyed serious gaze to him-. I was wondering if you could consider giving up on him without a war, Austria.

And then the time froze.

- ... What?

France didn’t look surprised about the obvious shock on the other’s face. he went on speaking. – I’m asking you to not declare war against me or Spain when the change of dynasty becomes official. –he said, suddenly looking even more dark and dangerous-. Spain has always been one of my objectives, plus now he is much more attractive as a country, you know? He has the complete monopoly of the silver and gold trade, and he has extended his influence and power all over the Indies. Just think about it. Spain has always been my target just by being himself, he currently has the most powerful empire of the world and, now, the throne, the place that has been occupied by you for nearly 200 years, is reachable. I cannot let this divine situation scape, and I'm more than willing to sacrifice anything to get it. What’s more, I’m eager to do it.

The other was in complete amazement, completely gone even if he continued hearing the ominous talk of this son of disgrace that apparently was willing to die in order of stealing his husband. He couldn’t think a response. He had gone blank.

Say no to war? Let the affair pass and only look when another country –and another man- takes which has been their belonging, Habsburg’s, since the beginning?

He couldn’t find a way of expressing his emerging anger and hatred that didn’t imply him strangulating the blonde. – You bastard!! –he cried, facing him with the hellfire in his eyes-. You can’t be serious.

France did not react. He just sighed and moved to take a coup of Jerez that was on the table. He looked so relaxed Austria couldn’t help but hate him more and more.

But when he was going to go and insult him more, the sound of the great entry doors opening broke the atmosphere. A servant appeared, looking between the direction of the door and France with a jittery look on his face. France didn’t understand immediately, just like him, but was all cleared up when a cozy voice sounded:

- France, are you there? I’ve been told you’ve come to Spain but I didn’t expec-

And suddenly the brunette head of the host country appeared, stopping his way as shocked as them when he saw them.

He needed from a few seconds to understand the situation before laughing in a friendly way.

- Oh, isn’t this Austria? What a nice surprise! I didn’t know you two were this close. –he smiled, getting close to his best friend since childhood and his husband.

Austria came out of his stupor just to worthily say. – I don’t recall having any kind of relation with such a vulgar man. –while crossing his arms. France came back right after, uncomfortably laughing while smiling at his beloved friend.

- Oh, Spain. I didn’t expect you too…

- Of course I had to come! I’m the host here and I didn’t even know you were here till a few hours ago…!

Austria palmed his face. His idiotic mate didn’t even know that this coming from a rival country was supposed to be considered something as an invasion. Only someone as oblivious as Spain could still consider himself a simple host after this.

Anyway, Spain continued rambling. - ... It’s been so sudden that I’ve come right after knowing it. Just imagine: Romano has started insulting and shouting to me calling me untrue and bastard for leaving him alone so suddenly! He was simply sooo cute…!

Then he carelessly sat next to both of them, like if he didn’t notice the tense situation. France looked like if he were having a hard time and Austria felt complicated. He suddenly couldn’t think right, and he thought that this might have been due to the handsome young man that sat right there in front of him.

He hadn’t seen Spain since months, maybe a complete year ago. This moment, anyway, had caught him off guard. He hadn’t been emotionally ready to face him this early, in this situation, with the unwanted French presence as a plus.

They had been married exactly for 184 years.

Still, Austria managed to fell in love with him more and more every time they met. His heart still exploded like a maiden’s.

A few moments later, the friendly chat carried by the Spaniard died and Spain looked at them, suddenly quite serious.

He looked concerned. – What’s wrong?

France was going to say something, but Austria didn’t want to hear more of his poisonous talk. He felt sick just standing there, in front of the supposed enemy, pretending that the phantom of the incoming war wasn’t there. So he just spoke faster. – I just feel a little bit tired this night. –he said, looking right to the blue eyed man-. I would like to retire to my rooms, if it is not a nuisance, of course.

France maintained a neutral gesture, as if he didn't want anyone to read him. – Of course it isn’t a nuisance, you’re my invité after all. I’ll ask my servants to prepare two room-

- Oh! Don’t bother, France. It’ll be only one room. –interrupted Spain, with a lovely smile. Both, Austria and France froze a little, even if the following was just natural-. We’re married after all.

The Austrian’s cheeks painted in pale pink and the French’s face got tense. It was a brief silence before the French said. - D’accord, I’ll get it ready in a moment. –and commanded it to his servants.

A few moments later, when the other two were being lead to his rooms, France sat and drank again. He was burning with jealously, but couldn’t do anything yet.

- Just a little more, France... -he said to himself.

{ . . . }

Like that, Austria and Spain end up preparing to sleep in the same room. They were evolved in a rough silence, something floating in the air that they weren’t ready to reach. Austria knew that Spain wasn’t actually an idiot. He had known the worst part of him too. So he knew he wasn’t completely oblivious right now either.

At first, the marriage was just a simple political alliance and didn’t meant anything but security to them. Austria knew since the beginning that Spain was going to be loyal to their dynasty, because that was the kind of guy he was –just the opposite of men like France or Scotland-. So Austria had taken their marriage as something not particularly bad; he had also been in a good relationship with him, too.

As told before, Austria still managed to fell in love with this guy over and over again, because even if dangerous, he was the loveliest and most charming person he had had the pleasure to meet before.

But eventually, knowing each other, playing music together, protecting each other’s back during the wars with France, England or the United Provinces of the Netherlands… Eventually the mutual care became stronger and they end up falling for each other and making love. Like a couple. Like mates.

The ring on their fingers had never meant so much before.

- Austria, talk to me.

He raised his head in the direction of the sweet voice calling his name. The green eyes greeting him were clearly tired till the deepest of his soul. Austria couldn’t handle it.

- What are you going to do?

The sudden question didn’t surprise Spain. They stared at each other for a long moment before he formed an answer.

- Now, for the first time in my life, I’m not going to do anything as an individual. –he sentenced.

Austria blinked. – What do you mean? –and the brunette sighed, passing a hand through his own hair.

He sounded restless. – I mean that my person, the personification of Spain, is going to stay aside this time.

The Austrian held his breath, feeling the sensation of betrayal running through his veins. – I can’t believe it. Are you demented!? He’s trying to destroy our dynasty and our…!

- It’s just much complicated than that! –the sudden explosion of voice came out like a thunder. Austria stared impressed at his husband, who was holding to his ring while staring at the fire of the candle. He seemed in pain-. This is not just going to be a war in Europe. Is also going to be a civil war for me. Castilians prefer the French and the people from Aragon and Catalonia want to defend the Habsburgs. Now the king has died my government is just a mess and I can’t afford to mind personal matters like my personal feelings. I can’t choose between my people so I can’t choose any of you either. That’s why I’m going to stay out of this.

The other listened to everything with a complicated look in his face.

He was seeing it coming, the departure. The Goodbye. He was having a hunch, or some kind of sensation that was so incredibly painful that was destroying him from the insides.

But after focusing his violet eyes in the commonly cheerful face of his man, he knew it wasn’t the time for being a pathetic cry-baby. He was the Austrian Empire after all, and this was his all beloved companion in the top of the world. He smiled at the resolution.

He took out his glasses and took the Spanish hand.

- I understood. Don’t you worry anymore.

Green eyes looked back at him, with a soft smile.

- I didn’t even remember how beautiful you were, Austria. –he said reaching his hand and kissing the palm-. I suppose I haven’t been fulfilling my duty as your partner lately and nearly forgot that I’m entirely yours.

Austria’s heart puffed, while a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

- It’s okay if you understand it. –whispered, while taking the opportunity to return the previous display of affection in the other’s hand. Spain stroked his cheek in return, and Austria let it be.

They stayed like this for a long moment, and, then, Spain murmured something.

“No matter where I go, my heart will always be yours” –he had said.

After that, they made love countless times. Roughly, lovely, relaxed and passionately. They knew all about each other, and Austria hoped France could have heard the proof of their mutual love from somewhere in the castle.

When they finished, and Spain finally fell asleep, Austria still stayed awake trying to burn in his memory the scene in front of him.

He undoubtedly knew this wasn’t probably happening again in a while. But he didn’t mind at all. Spain had said he would always be true. That gave him the strength of a full army.

Anyway, then, he had only one thing in mind when he was passing his fingers through his brown hair.

He was going to destroy that condemned Frenchman and take back what belonged to him.

#hetaliamondaychallenge #spaus #auspa #habsburg #habsburg pair #austria x spain #frain #france x spain #aph spain #aph austria #hetalia fanfic #aph france #hetalia

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inkstaineddove · 6 years ago

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Through the Drinking Glass

Pairing: Mentioned AusHun and AuSpa

Characters: France, Prussia, Spain; mentioned Germany, Austria, Hungary

Summary: The Bad Friends Trio have been together through thick and thin, always with a glass of booze between them. A look at their intricate history from the War of Austrian Succession to modern times through the love of bars and pub crawls.

The end of the Wars of Austrian Succession, 1748 A pile of military jackets sat stacked in the middle of a round table. Their intricate designs and cloths were now splattered with a mix of sweat, blood, and beer, emitting a strange odor. None of the parties sitting nearby noticed though. They were too high off of a post-victory sense of euphoria. They were loud and rowdy, disturbing the peace. Of course none of the patrons or the owner had the heart to tell the brave soldiers to quiet themselves down a bit. Not when they were celebrating protecting their respective countries from the threats of the British and Austrian Empires.

There were three that were louder, more uncontrollable than all the others. They were regulars here and everyone knew there was no point in trying to calm them since it would only cause them to get more raucous. The apparent leader’s voice could be heard over all others in the pub. "Al’ight, al’ight." Gilbert stumbled over his words. By now, he was well into his fifteenth drink and was slowly becoming more intoxicated with each sip. He would soon be incapable of stringing even a few words together coherently. "How fuckin' gorgeous was that pussy Austria's face was when he had to accept that Silesia was my bitch?" Despite what he said not being remotely funny, the three men broke out into hysterical laughter. Francis clapped while trying to catch his breath. When he spoke, he didn't sound much better off than the Prussian besides him. "The look on the limey though! That's what he gets for walkin' 'round like he's better than moi! Non - like he's better than us!" The trio roared in laughter again. It was getting to the point where courtesy might have to be forgone. All the other customers were beginning to be disturbed by their antics. Even the bartender was polishing the wood of the counter with a bit too much force and gritted teeth. "Si, si. Mi amigos, that was all great." Antonio was the most sober of them all. He was the last able to speak, not being much of a fan of chugging drinks down one by one. The Spaniard preferred to savor the flavor and bite that each sip contained. "But we're forgetting Hungary's look of shock at how weak her little boy thing actually is." He sighed dramatically while clutching a hand to his chest. "Dios mio, did I try to warn her, but she wouldn't listen. I swear on Isabella's grave." Prussia looked mystified as he did every time Spain alluded to his rulings under the Hapsburgs. "I still don't get how you could've been with him." He smirked, an evil thought coming to mind. "I bet his gay ass loved it. Probably tried grabbing at you all the time." France, on the other hand, was in awe of his green-eyed friend. "How did you manage to get the Pope to approve? I asked him about the possibility of me and Arthur, but he threatened to excommunicate me." All this talk about taboo subjects was the final straw. The owner grabbed all of them by the collar and threw the meddlesome trio out, threatening to call the authorities if they weren't off his property in five minutes. He hollered that they were only permitted to come back if they could wizen up and learn to drink responsibly. They never returned. --- The dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire, 1806 An excited, young Spaniard and his slightly older, obviously amused French friend entered into a familiar pub on the border. Shockingly, it was decently packed for a Wednesday night. It seemed to be that most of the patrons had the mid-week blues. "Mon ami, first rounds on me," France purred, thinking back to the events earlier this week. They flashed through his mind in quick succession causing him to chuckle in satisfaction. "It's been such a splendid week." Spain raised the glass freshly placed in front of him. "You finally stopped that little menace. Who was he anyway? 'Holy' something-or-other, always going after Veneziano." Just then, it began dawning on him who it could've possibly been. His eyes widened in shock and a sense of fear for what would come. "A-Amigo...that wasn't his brother?" Francis shrugged lazily and flipped some stray hair out of his face. "Who even cares anymore?" Cockiness and something darker was etched across every one of his facial features as he raised his glass. "Allies are interchangeable, it's defense against intruders that matters! Big or small, the French empire will defeat them all!" This received loud cheers from about half the room. The other half, the Spanish half, looked bored or threatened by their neighbors. Antonio himself was clearly in the latter category. Ripples of national pride now spread throughout the room, causing the two nations to ignore an ominous presence lurking besides them. As France continued on with how great he was, a scoff from the shadowy figure cut him off. The pair turned and who they saw made their stomachs lurch. An albino with fiery red eyes and a hand twitching towards the hilt of his sword glared at them. "So you think you're some great military force because you killed a little kid?" Prussia spat down at the Frenchman's feet. Spain took a step back. He didn't want to get into this. Not tonight. France instead rose from his seat, never breaking eye contact with his challenger. "I see you're here to avenge that weak brother of yours." He smirked, a thought crossing his mind. "Do you care to learn how he begged and cried for mercy at my hand? Oui, that can be arranged." Gilbert ground his teeth together as his hand wrapped tight around his sword's hilt. "With that attitude, you're just asking for me to senselessly beat you. In the honor of those lost, of course." He drew his sword as the other man in front of him drew his and uttered, "Of course." Just as the Prussian was about to lunge, a strange feeling came over him. He didn't know what exactly it was, but he damn well knew who it was from. The silver-haired man smirked to himself as he put his weapon away, much to the confusion of the opposing forces around him. "Nein. I may have been born to fight, but I'm better than this." He locked eyes with his former friend and winked. "Next time we meet, it'll be on the battle field. Make sure to fight with honor this time around. It's what God would want." The strange nation left as quickly as he came, laughing to himself the whole way home. Not once did he put a thought to what the other two might've gotten from his words. --- After the final battle of the Franco-Prussian War, 1871 Gilbert strutted into his favorite bar and plunked himself right down besides Antonio, who was desperately trying to ignore him. This amused the Prussian greatly. He became giddy, laughing with childlike glee. "Oh! Get over yourself, Toni! Francey-pants knew he had it coming!" Prussia laughed some more and slapped his friend hard on the back. Spain flinched before frowning in displeasure at the situation. This was the second time this century his two best friends were pitting themselves up against each other and, for the second time, he was in between it. Lord have mercy. The brunette sighed in deep dissatisfaction. This was turning out to be one hell of a time period for him. He only hoped the next century would be better for everyone. "Francis is coming here. I just don't want you to bring me back into this unnecessary fight. I love you both, but no amount of cheer up charms can fix this." He swirled his drink around in it's glass and sighed once more. He needed better friends. Prussia gave a dissatisfied grunt before turning his attention to his beer. He angrily thought about how Antonio said he wouldn't pick a side, but it was become more and more apparent that that was truly a bold faced lie. Gilbert was beginning to feel more like a used rag than an actual friend. Just as he talked himself up enough to leave, the last person he wanted to see walked in. The temperature in the room seemed to drop and a steely silence rang throughout. Francis slowly continued forward, never breaking eye contact. "Mon ami, the usual. S'il vous plaît." He lowered himself onto the other seat besides Spain. For someone whose clothing was torn and whose usually silky hair had knots in it, he looked smug. Gilbert sneered as the Frenchman approached. "It sucks when someone takes something of yours, doesn't it Frakreich?" He spat the German version of his former comrades name out. His tone was icy yet his eyes were fire. He made sure to push his coat jacket back so everyone could take note of the gun in his holster. Just so no French bastard would try anything funny. France tried ignoring him, he really did. He was poor and his resources were exhausted. It would be pointless to start another war over this. But getting a gun flashed at him while he was unarmed? That was crossing the line. He smirked, trying to keep his normal air of arrogance around him. "Stealing my land won't make Holy Rome come back to you." Seeing that his words had the desired wounding effect, he turned around and raised his glass. "But take my land, mon ami! The French never forget - go ask the British. We'll just come back for you and hit you with all we've got." Antonio didn't want to be here for this. He quickly paid his tab and rushed to the door. If this was what his friendships were becoming well he...he'd just need to stick with the Italy brothers then and hope to make amends with these two later. He stopped with one hand on the doorknob and looked back at them. "Will this ever end?" The Spaniard sighed before making his leave home. Meanwhile, Gilbert had closed the space between them. The Prussian gripped the other's collar tight, pinned him up against the bar counter with his revolver pressing hard into France’s abdomen. "If I were you, I'd learn some goddamn respect. You're a coward, you're weak. You rival the greatest armies in the world and you've been losing ever since Napoleon got fucked over in Waterloo. You know who did that? Me. Me and England." Prussia pushed the other man away and took a step back. He never lowered his gun. "So, please. Give me your worst. I'm the greatest military in the world. I'll crush you." France was frozen in complete shock. He didn't move when the Prussian left. He didn't move when the door swung shut. And he didn't move once the time it would've taken Gilbert to stalk off a meter away passed. He only moved once one thought kept repeating itself in his head. He would show Prussia who was weak. He would show the whole world what a coward really was. --- Signing on the Treaty of Versailles, 1919 Prussia sat, slumped over across the bar. "Free State of Prussia," he grumbled. "So lame. So unawesome. Just as unawesome as my land being taken away." As soon as the Allies officially released the terms of their peace agreement, he had rushed over here. After all, it seemed more like Germany's problem now than it ever was his. "Stupid Bruder. He took my job." If he hadn't already been hammered, he would've been bothered by France being here. But Antonio had made sure that both of them had gotten nice and tipsy before allowing them to catch sight of one another. Who said the Spaniard wasn't smart? "Ah, mon ami, at least your stupid cousin is away from the girl now." Francis slung his arm over Gilbert's shoulder. He leaned into the German in an attempt to stay upright. "I did you one favor, non?" Spain jumped in. In times of great warfare and destruction like these, even he had to force his trademark smile. "You did us all a favor. Now he can finally get married to that piano he actually loves." For his part, he was still bitter over how little attention he received during his time as a Hapsburg. Some wounds heal slowly. The Prussian nodded his head along to all of this. Was he in control of Germany anymore? No, he was just a German state. But the positive was he still had most of his land and Ludwig let him do whatever. It was a great arrangement, especially adding this on top of Elizaveta being available again. Who knows, the two of them might even restart their hunting trips together. Gilbert looked at France and checked him out. Yes, this new revelation pleased him greatly. So much so that his drunken haze made him almost want to kiss his friend-turned-rival-turned-frenemy right here, right now. He didn't think that would fly though so he went with a very hard pat on the back. "You're a pretty big Arschloch and you've screwed me over for years, but Ich liebe dich." Francis roared in laughter and returned his friend's affections. Antonio watched in a state of shock. This wasn't how he expected everything to go. But who was he to complain? Neither of them were arguing and seemed to actually be much happier than they’d been for the past four years. His smile turned genuine and his laughter joined that of the other two. "Si, I told you two everything thing would turn out alright in the end!" France and the new Free State of Prussia didn't appear to hear him, though it didn't matter. Things were beginning to look up. --- Dissolution of Prussia, 1947 Numb. That was the only feeling to describe it. Gilbert sat in the farthest corner of the bar, staring emptily at the glass of beer shaking in his hand. This was not how his life was supposed to be. This was not how the war was supposed to end. Everything was going to be better for him. Everything was going to be returned to normal. And then he rose up. A warm hatred rose up and bubbled throughout the former nation. Hatred for Austria, for allowing the little cretin to be born and thrive. For allowing him to live long enough to the point where Prussia was forced to feign respect. There was hatred for Germany, his very own brother, for blindly accepting this man's words as fact. For swallowing up any autonomy he had left in the name of ther fatherland. And then, there was a deep sense of loathing for the Allies and the monster himself. How he could envision the little prick with his toothbrush mustache yelling, invading, conquering. He could imagine how tickled the creep would be at him being split apart and thrown to the communist masses. The ruling of the Allies was the worst though. He kept hearing their decision ring loud and clear throughout his head. "Dissolved." Gilbert whispered, not even aware of the fact that Francis had arrived now with Antonio shouting behind him. France stepped up to the table. His head was down and his features were gaunt. He didn't look as ethereal as he normally did. He looked mortal and old, almost haunting. "Prussia, Gilbert." His voice was barely above a whisper. ". I didn't...no one wanted for this to be the final outcome. But you have to understand why-" Gilbert jumped up at this and spat in the Frenchman's direction. "Fuck you. None of this was my fault, yet I bear the repercussions? Nein. Dissolve Germany. I'm just as much a pawn as anyone else was in this God forsaken war." His eyes were cold and he regarded neither of his two companions with any compassion. "Split the nation up and give half to Russia, huh? Make the Russian half mine? Nein. You all knew exactly what you were doing. The crime I'm paying for is unifying all the Germanic states in a way you didn’t approve of and having a superior military back in the day." With a heavy mind and heavier heart, he inched towards the door. He turned back and left them with cruel parting words before leaving into the night. "Never talk to me again, cowards." --- Berlin Wall destroyed, 1989 This might've been the best day of Gilbert's life. He couldn't stop crying and hanging onto Ludwig. He had truly believed for the last twenty-eight years that they would never be reunited. Now here they were, in the heart of Berlin going to a bar they had once frequented together. One surprise along the way was seeing Austria come running down the street, with Hungary a pace or two ahead, looking uncharacteristically thrilled to see him. It killed Gilbert to admit it, but the sight of Roderich was more emotional than he wanted to admit. The party of four entered and Prussia was faced with the biggest surprise of all. Francis and Antonio sat around looking anxious in the middle of the room. The same Francis and Antonio he had told forty-two years prior to get out of his life. Regret and shame instantly pulsated through the man while he cautiously approached the table. "How's my favorite Arschlochs?" He sounded more nervous than he wanted to admit. Prussia hoped they weren't here to dump cold beer on his head and give him the lecture he rightfully deserved. Spain was the first up. He embraced his friend right away, happy tears pouring out of his eyes. "Gilbert! Amigo, you're alive! And you still have all your eyelashes! I thought Ivan would've made them all fall off!" His delirium caused him to ramble. The Spaniard pulled Francis into the embrace, who had been standing around awkwardly before. "Francis, isn't it a miracle? Oh, we were all so worried! Welcome to democracy, my friend!" France didn't start crying till his head was buried in his friends neck. It was silent and would've gone unnoticed had Prussia not felt the way the collar of his shirt now clung to him in certain patches. "Gilbert, I'm sorry. We've been putting each other through so much for so long." He looked up and into his friends eyes. "I will leave you alone after this, we both will, if that's what you want." Gilbert seriously considered it for half a second. He thought how for the last forty-two years he didn't have to worry about either of them getting in his way. That it was just him prowling as a lone wolf while he tried to get up Elizaveta's skirt. He thought about how it was even sweeter without Roderich's piano playing waking him up at four am and then his brother's yelling waking him up at five. He thought about how much easier it would be on him to walk out and put all the blame back on the five parties that meant the most to him here. Then he remembered how much moping around he did. How he couldn't go out drinking every night because he could no longer afford it and that it wasn't fun without his partners in crime. How he only played flute solos with a polite audience of other nations to occasionally listen instead of with a piano or violin accompaniment while Ludwig sat, listening in peaceful bliss. How he could always hit on Hungary, but now she'd be stronger to fight back and didn't that make it that much better? Prussia smiled and looked at them all. His gaze ending on his two moronic friends. "You know, I think everything's a bit more awesome with you Arschgrobblers making it hell for me."

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