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thatsamericano · 3 years

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True Colors Shining Through

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano. Smaller appearances from Germany, Veneziano, Canada, England, France, and Japan.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, for mild cursing. Brief moment of possible homophobia from an unnamed nation, but it’s up to interpretation.

Word Count: 1647

Summary: America surprises everyone when he shows up to the world meeting in a rainbow colored business suit, including his boyfriend Romano.

A/N: Written for @hetalia-writers-monthly, for the June concrete prompt “rainbow.” Inspired by this post from @bitchapalooza. Title taken from the Cyndi Lauper song “True Colors.”

Germany was grumbling to himself as he arranged a stack of papers in preparation for the world meeting. “It would be nice if people could respect everyone else’s busy schedule and actually show up to the meeting on time.”

“Ve, don’t stress out so much, Ludo,” Feliciano said. “Almost everyone is here, except for America and whoever is supposed to be sitting next to him.”

Romano paused in the middle of his boredom-induced doodling long enough to roll his eyes at his little brother. “It’s Canada. America’s brother.”

“Right, Canada! I wonder why they haven’t showed up yet.”

Savino shrugged as if he didn’t care. “Beats me.” But he was wondering why Alfred hadn’t shown up yet. When they spoke on the phone last night, Alfred had been quite enthusiastic about some “surprise” he had planned for the meeting. He was also thrilled that he’d get to spend some time with Savino after the meeting, because the distance between them usually limited how much time they could spend together in person. Of course, Alfred being Alfred, he had expressed his excitement in the sappiest way possible and left Romano a blushing mess by the time the phone call ended.

America and Romano had only been together a few weeks, and they hadn’t gone public with their relationship yet because it was so new. They were still figuring things out about themselves and each other. Fredo knew he’d probably have to “come out” at some point, but unlike Savino, he didn’t have a label for his sexuality that made sense to him. All he knew was that he was happy with Romano and that anyone who gave him or his boyfriend crap for it would deserve some creative insults (if they were human) or a punch in the face (if they were a nation and therefore able to withstand Alfred’s punches without dying). Savino agreed strongly with Alfred on the latter point, and he didn’t mind waiting a bit until Alfred felt more comfortable telling people about them. For now, it was nice to have their relationship be just between them, without having to face the scrutiny or opinions of any other nations.

Romano idly continued doodling until the door to the conference room opened. He glanced up as Canada ducked his head into the doorway. “Sorry we’re late, eh?”

“It’s alright. Please take your seat,” Germany replied.

Canada turned his head to whisper to someone behind him, and then he walked into the room, followed closely by his brother. Romano’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he saw what Alfred had worn to the meeting.

It was only a business suit in the most technical sense of the term. The jacket, the trousers, and the tie were all striped with the colors of the rainbow. Or more specifically, the colors of the rainbow pride flag. Alfred’s ridiculously loud outfit contrasted with the darker and more muted suits everyone else was wearing. The only part of America’s outfit that was normal was his white shirt, his normal briefcase, his glasses, and his black patent leather shoes.

A stunned silence fell over the room, and it was only broken by a few hushed, baffled whispers. Alfred glanced over at Savino to flash him a quick smile before he sat down, but he didn’t explain himself to anyone. Apparently, he didn’t feel the need to, just like Savino didn’t feel the need to respond to his little brother poking him in the arm and asking him what was going on. Not that he would’ve been able to tell Feli what the fuck was going on, because he was just as confused as everyone else.

England, who was sitting on America’s right, was the first person to speak. “Alfred, what the bloody hell are you wearing?!”

America laughed and pulled some papers out of his briefcase. “It’s a business suit, dude. I’m pretty sure they have those in England.”

“I think what Angleterre was trying to say is that your outfit today is a bit more… how you say, flamboyant than your usual attire,” France pointed out as diplomatically as he could. “Especially for a world meeting.”

“It’s Pride Month. Being flamboyant is kind of the point, isn’t it?”

France blinked in disbelief, and the whispering from before increased into a steady, background hum. Romano heard someone from across the room scoffing and asking why America had to “show off” instead of wearing a pin like anyone else would have, and Romano turned to glare spitefully in their general direction. Sure, wearing a rainbow business suit to a world meeting was over the top in a way only Alfred would be, but America had every right to “show off.” Savino wouldn’t let anyone talk about his boyfriend like that.

Japan cleared his throat. “Alfred-san, forgive me if this is an intrusive question, but are you trying to tell us that you’re gay?”

“Don’t worry bro, it’s fine. And to answer your question, yeah. I’m not sure of my exact label, but I am into guys, or at least one guy in particular.” A broad grin stole over his face, and then Alfred looked directly at Savino and winked at him.

Savino’s face instantly turned scarlet, because Alfred’s wink and his grin made him flustered beyond all reason, damn it. America’s blatant statement, along with Romano’s reaction, naturally prompted even more gossip. The loud cry of “ha, I knew it!” from Lithuania was not particularly surprising, and neither were Spain’s or Feli’s comments on how much Savino was blushing, but they were embarrassing. Of course, true to form, Fredo verbally declared that Savino’s blushing was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen, which was flattering, but the kind of compliment he was much more accustomed to hearing in private, not in front of literally the entire world. Romano’s face was so warm that he probably could have fried an egg on it.

Savino glared weakly at his boyfriend. “You’re only making it worse, asshole.”

“I’m only being honest, babe,” Alfred said plainly, like it was no big deal. “Everyone here can see how cute and handsome you are.”

Savino couldn’t help it. With Alfred saying sappy things like that and looking at him like he hung the moon, he cracked a smile. Alfred grinned back at him. They continued staring into each other’s eyes as Germany stood up from his chair and attempted to get the meeting back under control.

“Unless anyone has any further surprise announcements, I’m going to begin my presentation.”

America quit staring at him for about half a second to acknowledge what Germany had said. “I think we’re good, dude.”

Once Germany started talking, Romano did his best to pay attention. He took a few notes, idly sketched in his notebook, and glanced up to roll his eyes fondly whenever he felt America gazing at him like the obvious dork he was.

Eventually, it was time for the scheduled lunch break. As Romano was packing up his things, he overheard Poland telling Hungary that he was totally going to wear a pink sequined dress to the next world meeting, because America shouldn’t be the only one getting to wear whatever they wanted. Hungary laughed and said he had a point.

Alfred started to come around the other side of the table, and Feli nudged his shoulder and smirked. “I’ll have lunch with Germany today. That way you and your ragazzo can have some alone time.”

Savino could only stammer out a couple syllables before his little brother was rushing off to catch up with Germany. As Feli was latching onto the macho potato’s arm, Alfred slipped into the space beside him. “Hey, Vinny.”

“Hey, caro.” He glanced up and down Alfred’s body, then smirked as he looked up into his eyes. “Interesting outfit.”

Alfred blushed and smiled, shyer than he would have in front of anyone else. “You like it? I stumbled across it online when I was looking for something else, and it called out to me, like the stuff Billy Mays used to sell in infomercials. I had to buy it.”

Savino snorted. “It is very… you. I wouldn’t have expected to see it at a world meeting, though.”

Alfred fidgeted with the hem of his jacket sleeve and glanced away with a worried look on his face. “It was okay that I told everyone about us today, right? Before we went in, Mattie said I probably should’ve consulted with you beforehand, but I’ve just been so happy and proud to be with you, and I didn’t want to have to hide it anymore. I didn’t even think to—”

Savino gently took hold of his hand, which stopped his boyfriend’s nervous babbling. “It’s okay. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to come out today. And knowing you, I figured that loud, public declarations would be part of the deal sooner or later.”

Alfred chuckled and laced their fingers together. His smile was equal parts relieved and adoring. “Okay, cool. Glad I didn’t mess that up too badly. Are you free for lunch?”

Savino huffed out a laugh. “Feli just ditched me for the potato bastard so I could have ‘alone time’ with you.”

Alfred giggled. “That’s really nice of him. I feel like I owe your brother a million dollars.”

They continued chatting back and forth, and Romano wasn’t sure if it was Alfred’s gleeful, lovestruck tone, his sweet words, or the fact that they were holding hands, but he felt warm and content as they went into the elevator and as they left the building and walked down the sidewalk together. He held Alfred’s hand until they took a table at the restaurant, because he was just as proud to be in this relationship as Alfred was, even if he was more inclined to show it with body language than rainbow colored business suits.

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feynavaley · 3 years

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Hetalia Writers Monthly – January 2021

A last-minute snippet for @hetalia-writers-monthly

Theme: Turning Over a New Leaf Prompt: Hesitation Characters: England and Canada Words: 1,350

———

In Time of Need

The boy was small.

That was the only thing England could think as he stared at the wide lilac eyes looking up at him, gleaming with a mixture of apprehension and timid hope.

If France could have heard his thoughts, he would have scoffed and rolled his eyes with that practised air of superiority of his. “Of course he’s small, how were you thinking he would be? He’s just a young colony!”

And England knew all about that – he was already taking care of another young colony, after all. However, America’s exuberance and boundless energy often made him look bigger than he actually was, bigger than life itself.

The child standing in front of England, instead, had nothing like that. He was probably just a bit thinner than America – but the way hunched his shoulders and neck as if to protect himself made him look even smaller. There was a vulnerability about him that plummeted to the bottom of England’s stomach.

He recognized that look with painful clarity. That trembling hesitance, that bottomless neediness born out of loneliness.

…A corner of his mind wondered if older personifications had ever recognized that look in him, in spite of how hard he had tried to hide it behind a façade of cheekiness.

Good Lord, what am I even going to do about him?

He didn’t know. He couldn’t. One thing was America, with his brightness and confidence, but that child who had already been so hurt… England’s head was spinning. There was no way he could deal with something like that.

…But the child was still in front of him, waiting for his reaction. A small child that shouldn’t have known hesitation, the pain of rejection.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, England forced his stiff lips into a smile and extended his right hand towards the child.

“I was serious,” he declared with much more confidence than he actually felt, “From now on, you’re going to be part of my family. Come with me.”

The child’s entire face opened in a smile of such blinding warmth that England’s heart constricted.

“Thank you, Mr England! I won’t make you regret this.”

His fingers slipped inside England’s hand, so small and fragile that England almost wanted to scream. He didn’t know what he was doing. How could he, when nobody had ever shown him what he was supposed to?

Hopefully, this entire situation will improve quickly.

******

The situation did not improve quickly.

If he was honest with himself, England had been fully aware it wasn’t going to. He had a very young colony in his hands, a very young colony who had just experienced a war followed by a power transition. The result was plainly foreseeable.

…Yet, part of him had still hoped. Hoped that like America, his new colony would be blessed with unnatural health and strength and be spared from the pain England knew all too well. Hoped that the rosy flush gracing the child’s cheeks was natural, in spite of his otherwise ghostly pale complexion.

(He had hoped he wouldn’t have to intervene. What did England know, of taking care of sick children?)

Nevertheless, England could draw a small consolation from the fact he was prepared. The moment he saw the child wobble, his eyes dazed, almost confused, he jumped up and gathered the small (so small, so light, so frail!) body in his arms.

He didn’t have to think about his destination, his feet automatically leading him towards the bedrooms. The child’s skin burned with fever against his collarbone.

“You’re going to be all right,” England said automatically, refusing to let his voice tremble.

His stomach coiled on itself. What a pathetic reassurance that was, for a child who was surely experiencing the worst pain of his short life… England was surprised he wasn’t even crying. If not from the pain, at least from the scare… Actually, such a young child should have started complaining a lot earlier.

Instead, Canada was quiet in his arms, keeping his body rigid as if to prevent it from trembling.

“I’m so sorry, Mr England… I don’t know what came over me, I…”

England almost missed a step, dread washing over him.

How am I supposed to fix this?

Physical illness, that he could deal with. But that quiet resignation, that sorrow of a child shaped by a type of rejection he was far too young to endure… England didn’t know how to heal it. (He had never had.)

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said anyway, because he had to say something, “it isn’t your fault. It’s a normal reaction after going through such a big political change.”

Doubt still clouded Canada’s fever-bright eyes, but a coughing fit that left him breathless prevented him from replying.

Relief shouldn’t have gripped England at that. Only the worst scum would react that way to a child’s pain.

…Yet, gently drawing circles on his back was a lot easier than answering questions.

At last, England deposited the child on the bed. He fussed with the pillows and blankets, faking a reassuring smile all the while. His lips almost hurt from the unnatural position – yet, he couldn’t show how he was truly feeling.

“Try to get some sleep now,” he said in the most soothing voice he could muster, “You need to rest and keep up your strength.”

He couldn’t tell Canada that he didn’t know how long the illness would last, that it would probably get worse before getting better. Instead, he wetted and wrung a cold cloth before placing it on the child’s forehead. He had to tense his muscles to prevent his hands from trembling.

All the while, Canada’s half-lidded eyes followed his movements.

“The cold cloth is probably uncomfortable, but it will help with the fever,” England rambled, “And if it doesn’t go down on its own, I have some medicine for it. So, you just rest and don’t worry about anything…”

What am I doing?

That probably wasn’t reassuring in the slightest. In spite of being a personification, Canada was still a young child – a sick child who needed reassurances, not a scientific explanation. England’s stomach was knotted with tension. He wasn’t cut out for that, he was probably just making things worse…

“Thank you so much, Mr England… I’ll sleep now, you don’t have to stay…”

The words reached England like a punch to his chest, stealing away his breath. He was gripped by a strong impulse to cry for that poor child (and for his own inadequacy). How could he even begin to fix that?

Perhaps, he should admit defeat and leave the task to somebody else, somebody better equipped for that. But who? A human doctor, who would be able to deal with Canada’s symptoms only in part due to his nature, and wouldn’t even be able to understand the complexity of the situation, let alone provide the needed reassurances?

…France? The mere thought brought a sour taste inside England’s mouth, but he couldn’t deny France had always been better than him at providing emotional comfort.

Yet, France had abandoned Canada. England, instead, was right next to him.

“No, Matthew,” he declared in a gentle voice, using for the first time his colony’s name. “I’ll stay with you until you’re feeling better. You’re my little brother now. Do you know what this means? It means that I’ll never leave you alone when you need me.”

Such bold words. A taunting voice in a corner of his brain told England he was being ridiculous. He swallowed it back and focused on threading his fingers through Canada’s soft hair.

After a moment of hesitation, the child seemed to melt under his hand.

“Thank you, Mr England.”

It was nothing more than a feeble whisper, but filled with so much abandon that England forgot how to breathe for a moment.

He still didn’t know what to do. But now he had another child relying on him – a meeker, weaker one – so he had to find a way. He couldn’t break the trust that had just been placed on him.

#hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #aph england #aph canada #hetaliawritersmonthly #ficlet #feyna's writing #hurt/comfort #family #colonial times #I hope this is all right and not a rambling mess #fallen empire and loyal child

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lumassen · 3 years

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Written for @hetalia-writers-monthly for the prompts Sunshine/Colours, Hope and ‘No matter how long the winter, the spring is sure to follow.’

Summary: For Norway, the winter can be tough, but when spring comes it’s a sign of new hope and new beginnings. A fresh start. With no other reason to live but for his people, Norway follows their example and is willed by their strength in his every day despite his own inner struggles.

Words: 1.3k Character: Norway

#hetaliawritersmonthly #aph norway #hws norway #my writing #hws nordics #aph nordics #hetalia #hetalia world stars

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sailorgreywolf-german · 3 years

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An Autumn Walk

This is for @hetalia-writers-monthly

The prompt is Quote: “The trees are about to show us how lovely it is to let the dead things go” - Anonymous

Characters: Germany and Prussia, mentions of Holy Rome

Relationships: Fraternal Germany and Prussia, GerIta

Word Count: 2,000

Autumn had set upon Berlin in earnest, and it was turning the trees of the Tiergarten golden and red. There was a chill in the air, but it was pleasant.

After living here for so long, Prussia was of the opinion that climate of the city was the best at this time of year. The bite of winter was still distant, and the sweltering heat of the summer was gone.

He also loved the way that the autumn leaves colored the city, painting the streets orange and red. It was a last moment of bright color before the city would lapse into the greys of winter.

He was taking a moment to enjoy the turning of the season with his brother. They were taking a walk through the Tiergarten as a rare break from the demands of building an empire. Germany had asked for some time together, and a stroll through the Tiergarten was the most convenient way to have casual privacy.

Prussia had less on his shoulders now that his brother was in charge of the country, so he was glad to take a walk and offer whatever advice Germany wanted. He still had his own responsibilities as the largest state and as the one who had the closest relationship with the dynasty.

He had given Germany his kings, but he still knew the Hohenzollerns best. He was still the best intermediary between Germany and the monarch. As for the chancellor, it was evident to Prussia that Bismarck was still Prussian to his core. So, there was still an important place for Prussia in Berlin.

As a brother, he had the sense that Germany had asked him to go on this walk with something on his mind. It was easy to tell when he had something turning behind his eyes.

He expected the conversation to start at any moment, because he knew that Germany could never keep his thoughts to himself for very long. If he had something on his mind, then it would come out.

Prussia was just waiting for him to say something. As they walked deeper into the park, far enough that the victory column was no longer visible at the periphery of Prussia’s vision, Germany finally started talking.

He started, “I have been talking to Feliciano.”

That was no surprise; Germany seemed like he was becoming fond of Italy. Ever since the war against Austria, Prussia had noticed the way that they had been spending more and more time together. They seemed to think that it was clandestine or subtle, despite rarely finding a truly private place to talk.

Anyone could have easily seen the magnetism between them. If he had wanted to, Prussia could have easily eavesdropped. But he had chosen to allow the young love to take its course. He was happy for them, albeit slightly concerned with how quickly Germany had seemed to attach to the Italian.

Prussia added in his own mind: Oh yes, I’ve noticed that you’ve taken an interest in him. Anyone could see that.

He did not voice it though, because he had some restraint. He could almost feel Fritz’s hand on his shoulder, reminding him that the realization was not an easy one, and it would take time. Realizing feelings for another man could be difficult, especially for a young man who was still learning about himself.

If Fritz was here, he would remind him how long it had taken him to realize he had an attraction to men.

There was no use in pointing it out to Germany or teasing him. It would only make him more self conscious if he did not realize on his own yet.

So, after a long moment of contemplation, he said, “And what have you been talking about?”

He could guess, since he had once been a young man who stole moments with someone else. But he was certain that Germany would not share all of that with him, since he was his brother. Lover’s moments were meant to be private.

He watched the blonde’s face as he waited for an answer. There was a suggestion of an anxious blush. Germany finally answered, “Oh, many things. My life, his life, the future.”

He sounded anxious, and he was always short when he got anxious. But Prussia thought it still sounded very much like a conversation that lovers might have. Germany gathered himself and started talking again, “I think I like him more than I expected I would. He's not strong or bold, but I still like him.”

There was a furious pink blush in his cheeks now, and Prussia felt for a moment like he understood what this conversation might be. He could already imagine what might be coming next.

Was his brother about to tell him that he had feelings for Italy?

He immediately tried to think of a way to respond so that Germany would feel comfortable talking to him. He had to make sure that his brother did not feel any shame about his feelings.

But, Germany quickly added, “I mean that he is a very good friend.”

Prussia sighed to himself. His brother had not yet come to that realization, or decided to share it with him. He discarded his own prepared speech and looked up at the trees while he was waiting for Germany to get t whatever was on his mind.

He did say, “You know I encourage your diplomatic endeavors, but why are you telling me this?”

There was dappled light filtering in through the trees and it made the whole day feeling charmingly cozy. There was a moment of quiet, which was only punctuated by the crunch of leaves under their feet.

Then, Germany seemed to summon his strength and say, “He was telling me about the Holy Roman Empire. They lived together when Austria ruled him.”

Prussia hid his own surprise, because it had never crossed his mind that Italy had known his younger brother. He hadn’t considered that they lived together before.

It made sense looking back. At the time, Prussia had little to do with the politics of the rest of Europe, and it had escaped his notice.

In all the times that he had watched Germany talking intently to Italy, he had not thought that they may be rekindling a connection. Even if Germany did not remember it, it was entirely possible that he still felt a glimmer of friendship.

Could Italy tell that the man he was talking to was the same one that he had known years ago?

The thought was strangely haunting to Prussia, almost melancholy. How odd it would be to talk to a ghost.

Germany continued to speak, “The way Feli speaks about him makes it sounds like he really misses him. I think they were very good friends.”

Prussia thought, momentarily, that it was amusing that he used the same term as his own romantic feelings. He really must not have any idea what was developing between them.

Then, an old conversation surfaced in his mind. Holy Rome had once told him that he intended to get married to one of Rome’s heirs. It had been a topic Prussia had quickly dismissed once he had severed his relationship with the Catholic empire.

The comment brought it back to mind so clearly, and made a sudden strange sense. Had he meant to marry Italy before his death?

The thought was even more melancholy, because Prussia could easily imagine the grief that Italy had felt when Holy Rome had vanished. He knew the pain of losing a lover.

He glanced at Germany, and could see the likeness of young Holy Rome in his face. He was older now, but he did not look so different. Given the right cloak and hat, it would be easy to see.

How strange and painful that must be for Italy. Did he know that he was talking to half a ghost?

Did he gravitate towards Germany because he could see the resemblance so clearly?

He could not imagine how he would have reacted to a man who looked like his lost love, but who had none of their memories together. Italy must be more conflicted than he was showing.

He wondered if Germany’s own fondness for Italy came from that childhood relationship. The heart may remember what the mind had forgotten.

Germany seemed to be struggling through his thoughts as he said, “When Feli talks about him, I feel almost like almost I knew him.”

He trailed off for a moment, and the methodical crunch of leaves beneath their feet filled the silence.

Prussia thought for a fleeting moment that Germany was about to break through an amnesic barrier. The thought was terrible, because it would bring a cascade of pain and betrayal.

Whatever the feeling of death had been, the pain had been enough for Germany to lock it away in his own mind. There was an experience there that Prussia could not imagine, one that had been terrible enough to forget everything that came before it.

If Germany broke through he would remember that Austria had left him to die on a battlefield, and Prussia feared what the repercussions would be for his psyche. The amnesia was surely a way to protect himself from the knowledge that he was left to die.

Selfishly, he knew that he would also be called to account. If Germany remembered that he was once the Holy Roman Empire, then he would ask why Prussia had never told him. And that was not a conversation Prussia was prepared to have.

He watched with trepidation, wondering if Germany was about to experience the full force of those emotions.

But then Germany shook his head like it was an absurd thought, and Prussia breathed a short sigh of relief.

To reinforce that conclusion, Prussia said, “You did not know him. He died a long time ago.”

He knew it was half a lie, but it was one that would keep Germany from interrogating his own memories.

Germany shook his head one more time and said, “I know that. But, I wanted to ask you if you remembered him. He was our brother, wasn't he?”

He looked like he was trying to put the pieces together in his head. Prussia answered the question, “We had the same father, but I never knew him well. Roderich would know him better than I did. My king was never the Holy Roman emperor, and Holy Rome never lived with me.”

He hoped that would be enough to put the topic to rest and avoid any danger of old memories resurfacing. Germany was chewing the inside of his lower lip, like he was thinking very hard.

Prussia knew that there was more that he could say about the Holy Roman empire, but it would be inappropriate. He had thought Holy Rome was weak and ineffective, and he had spent years training Germany to overcome those qualifies.But, it would be unkind to tell a man about the weak boy he had once been.

Germany pressed him, “Can you tell me what you remember about him?”

Prussia sighed. He had to come up with an answer, and it would have to be one that would satisfy Germany’s curiosity.

He stopped walking, and looked up at Germany solemnly. Hemet the curious blue eyes and said, “Listen to me. Maximilian had too much power for a boy his age, and it killed him.”

He stepped towards his brother and placed his hands on his shoulders. He wanted Germany to listen to every word clearly. He enunciated every word as he said, “That is exactly why I made sure you were ready to become an empire. I was not going to let you fail the way he did. You are the future and I wanted you to be ready. I have lost one brother already, and I will do everything in my power not to lose you.”

The words he dared not say echoed in his mind: I will not be able to bring you back from death a second time.

He omitted the fact that he had spent time planning to fix the deficiencies that had brought Germany so close to destruction before.

He continued, “Now take an example from the season. Let the dead go, and move forward.”

The blonde nodded and replied, “But what about Feli? I want to understand him.”

Prussia drew in one more breath through his nose. He could hear the pangs of love in his brother’s voice, the first love that he neither fully forget nor fully remember.

Prussia answered, “Show him the man that you are, and he’ll love you for it.”

#hetaliawritersmonthly #aph prussia #aph germany #hws gerita

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highway-to-helltalia · 4 years

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Too old for this (DenNor)

Prompt: Laughter/tears

Word count: 837

For @hetalia-writers-monthly

Author’s note: Jumping in here at pretty much the last minute with this. I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while. I’m not used to writing nationverse, and this is shorter than what I normally write but I figured I’d have a go at a kind of character study focusing on Norway using my headcanons about his relationship with Denmark.

Norway sprinted over the mountains. The wind tore pale locks free from their sturdy braids which bounced against his shoulders, and his eyes streamed from the cold and the loose strands batting against them. His blurred vision was no object, though. He knew this land like the back of his hand. It was his land, as much a part of his being as his own soul. He knew every tree, every river, every little bump in the ground. His triumphant laughter echoed through the valleys, in perfect harmony with the birdsong and the whistling of the wind.

A force from the side knocked the breath out of him, strong arms around his waist tackling him to the ground. He tried to wrench his assailant’s arms away from himself as they tumbled across the grass, rolling down the hill, but he was taken over by giggles. Only when they’d come to a halt and the grip relaxed could he escape, but all he did was shift so his back rested against the grass, staying in the warm embrace of the other.

“Too slow,” Denmark smirked though he was panting heavily, turning his head to face Norway.

“You cheated.” Norway muttered, his head falling back against the dirt as he caught his breath.

“You’re just getting old.” Denmark poked his cheek with a grin.

Norway sighed, trying to feign annoyance, but a smile as bright and calm as the clear sky above them spread across his face. He really was getting too old for this. Just decades ago, he could race across the land with his friend while they trained, tumbling and wrestling through the fields and forests without a care in the world. He could still run, could still fight. But now lying on the grass with Denmark’s muscular arm draped over his chest felt different. Now, the Dane’s breath on his cheek made his heart flutter. The feelings were confusing, all he knew was that the rest of the world could have disappeared and he wouldn’t have cared. In that moment, lying on the land he loved so much and looking into Denmark’ eyes, he had everything he could ever want.

The sound of a tear falling into his coffee dragged him out of his thoughts. Though the flames in the hearth flickered in front of him, they brought no warmth to his heart, and his cosy log cabin filled with cushions, crocheted blankets and knitted throws offered no comfort.

The memory was pleasant enough, but now it left a bitter aftertaste. Something which used to bring him joy to recall was reduced to a reminder of what had been, a time he longed for but could never get back. He didn’t laugh like that anymore. He couldn’t be that carefree after everything that had happened. Solitude surrounded him now; he didn’t just remain physically distant from people, but emotionally as well. Though he loved his citizens, he couldn’t bring himself to talk to them, to get attached to anyone whose lifetime would pass in an instant. Denmark of course still tried to reach out to him, but Norway did everything he could to push his old friend away.

And that was how he had to exist. Alone, unable to trust anyone or anything, even his own feelings. Because feelings were complicated and dangerous, they made him weak and blind to reality. He might have been in love, once. Perhaps he still had feelings akin to that, but he pushed them down, trying his best to crush them until they were only whispers on the edge of his mind. Love, he decided, wasn’t worth his time. It could only end in heartbreak.

His sigh made the surface of the coffee ripple. He was getting too old for this. Too old to hurt over memories from a millennia ago. Too old to carry the weight of his existence, of his country’s existence, on his shoulders.

Before he knew anyone else, there had been Denmark. The other lonely immortal who longed for companionship of someone like him. Nobody had been as close as the two of them, who clung to each other in a world where the lives of others were so frail and brief. Bitter, childish tears seeped over his cheeks. Nothing was supposed to change. They weren’t supposed to let their roles as nations come between them. None of this was supposed to happen. He clenched the mug, his fingers turning white. Someone like America would have broken the mug with that kind of grip. But he wasn’t America. He wasn’t that strong.

He was old, and he was tired. Though he had the body of a 20-year-old, he’d been alive for over a thousand years. And that exhausted him. When he was younger, he never would have thought that just existing could be so draining. All he could do was sip his coffee as he watched the fire in the hearth, laughter of the past echoing in his mind and tears of the present pouring down his face.

#aph norway #aph denmark #dennor #hetaliawritersmonthly #hetalia #character study

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mattieshew · 3 years

Text

Bolted

Word Count: 1,323 words

Summary: After storming off into a forest following an argument with his brother, Matthew finds himself lost in the woods.

Warning: implied character death, and Alfred isn’t actually in the story, he’s just mentioned a lot

This is my first time writing for @hetalia-writers-monthly! I hope I did this right. I used the abstract prompt, despair and/or contentment. I tried to write for the despair part of that, but i don’t know how well that went. I’d also like to thank @cinnamontoastcroissant for coming up with the title, as I suck greatly at that, and @catboyrussia for reading over this for me before I posted it! (is that what betaing is??)

As always, this is also posted on my AO3!

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Matthew wasn't sure how long he'd been running, or how long he'd even been outside. Sure, his legs hurt and he was out of breath, but he was never very athletic, and the trees around him obscured his view of the sky so he couldn't see the position of the moon. He had no idea where he was going, either- he just knew he had to keep moving. He had to find a way out.

He'd briefly wondered if Alfred was out looking for him, if he'd gotten lost just as Matthew had. But he knew Alfred better than that. After the fight they'd had, the one that caused Matthew to storm out of the house and get lost here in the first place (and without his phone or a flashlight), Alfred was probably sitting at home and completely ignoring any thought of him. Matthew wouldn't be surprised if Alfred didn't feel worried about his disappearance until well into the morning.

When Matthew had first realized he was lost, the only thing he could think to do would be to call his brother's name. He wasn't sure how close he was to his house, but maybe someone would hear him and come to his aid. In hindsight, that was probably what had gotten him into his current situation.

-----

"Alfred!" Matthew had his hands cupped around his mouth, yelling into the night and praying someone was around to hear. The sun had gone down a while ago and now he couldn't see ten feet in front of himself, so he was just wandering aimlessly without any idea on how to get out.

He was about to yell again when he heard what he thought was a second set of footsteps behind him. They were faint and in time with his, and Matthew figured he was just imagining things. Regardless, he looked behind himself. It couldn't hurt, considering he was alone in the dark in the middle of a forest.

Expectedly, there was nothing behind him. Matthew laughed at himself and how ridiculous this situation was becoming, and then turned around and began walking again. The footsteps started up again, although this time they were slightly offset from his own. Matthew glanced behind himself again, and saw that there was still nothing there. He stopped for a moment and looked around the area. Maybe someone had heard him yelling, and had decided to mess with him instead of helping him?

"I know you're there," he said, staring at the trees. No response. "You're not gonna scare me." He listened for rustling, breathing, anything, but all he got was the soft breeze blowing at the treetops.

"Look, I got myself a bit lost. Any chance you know the way out of here?" He paused, waiting for a response. When none came, he added "I'm willing to compensate you. I'm really lost and I have a brother at home who's probably worried sick, and I don't have my phone or anything on me so I can't contact him."

Again, Matthew was met with nothing but silence. He sighed but waited a moment longer, before turning around and continuing on. The footsteps started up again almost immediately, and now they were a bit louder than they were before. He ignored them this time, opting to focus instead on trying to find a way out.

Eventually Matthew had gotten used to the footsteps behind him. It was soothing in a way, knowing there was someone with him, even if he had no idea who that person was. He figured the person was tall though, because the footsteps were slower than his and yet never got further away. If anything, they seemed to slowly be growing closer. Part of him was unsettled by this, but at the same time the closer this person is, the harder it'll be for them to hide again when Matthew turns to catch them again.

Then Matthew started to pick up on the breathing. He wasn't sure what he was hearing at first, because it was long and labored and definitely not the way a human would breathe. But then he realized what it was, and his blood ran cold. If that really was breathing, then whatever was behind him couldn't be human.

The thought had him breaking out into a run, trying to put distance between himself and the thing. Matthew was horrified when he heard the thing start running as well. He willed himself to go faster, scared of what would happen if this thing caught him.

-----

Matthew started weaving between the trees and then ducked behind a bush, hoping he'd thrown the thing off his trail long enough for him to catch his breath. He was never very athletic, and even with the adrenaline coursing through him he knew he wouldn't be able to keep this up all night. He had to be going in circles or something, there was no way the forest was this big.

He heard a twig snap nearby and stopped breathing. <i>God, I'm going to die, aren't I?</i> Matthew brought his hands to cover his mouth and tried to breathe slowly. He hadn't recovered from his running before and was getting lightheaded.

He stayed like that for a while, hands covering his mouth and eyes wide open, scanning the area around him. Occasionally he'd hear the thing come back close to him and he'd freeze again, praying to whatever gods existed that it didn't find him.

Eventually he felt well enough to start running again, and waited until he heard the thing come back again. He was going to listen for the direction it goes off in, and then sprint in the opposite direction of that. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd be far enough ahead that the thing would give up on him, or he'd get out before it caught him.

After a few moments he heard the thing get worryingly close to his bush, and then veer off toward the right. Matthew braced himself, trying to steady his breaths as much as possible, and when he thought he was in the clear he took off. At first he didn't hear anything behind him, and thought he'd really done it. Instead of stopping though, he pushed himself to go faster, to put as much distance between that thing and him as possible.

And then he saw a faint light in front of him, and with it the edge of the forest. If Matthew wasn't panting from all the running he was sure he would be crying at this point. As he got closer, he saw that the light was coming through the windows of an all too familiar house.

"Alfred!" Matthew yelled. He broke through the tree line and darted for the porch. "Alfred!" he yelled again. He didn't see any movement inside, maybe he was asleep? He tried the door, and when he found it was locked he started banging on it.

"Alfred, God, please let me in! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Matthew turned around, scanning the trees. He was home, but he was locked outside, and that thing was still out there somewhere.

He ran down the steps and to the windows, and saw that the living room was empty, but the lights were still on. He yelled Alfred's name again and started banging on the windows, hoping Alfred was in the house somewhere.

And then, to his horror, he heard footsteps running up behind him. He bolted for the porch again and tried to get the door open, but it wouldn't budge. He was banging and screaming and crying and when he heard the thing climbing up the porch railing behind him he collapsed to the ground and buried his face in his hands. It walked up to him, slowly, and when it stopped he peeked up to find himself met with two large, empty eyes and a gaping mouth.

#hetaliawritersmonthly #hetalia #hws #hws canada #hws america

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paperuniverse · 3 years

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Hetalia Writers Monthly December 2020

Here’s what I wrote for @hetalia-writers-monthly December’s abstract prompt ‘Friendship’. This is about how Gilbert met Antonio and Francis in my ask blog au @ask-gilbert-and-ludwig (although you don’t need to know anything about the au or follow my blog to understand what’s going on).

AO3 link

Title: Three Himbos Are Better Than None

Word Count: 946

Rating: Gen

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Gilbert’s first day wasn’t very amazing, but it was the day he met his two best friends.

——

Today was Gilbert’s first day of school since he had moved, and honestly he was a bit nervous, but he could never let his dad find out.

“Are you ready for your first day?” His dad asked as they got out of the car.

Gilbert looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening. “Yeah Dad, I’m not four. I can handle the first day back!”

In an unusual display of affection, Aldrich ran his hand through Gilbert’s hair. “I know you can, but this is a different country. School is much different here.”

“I’m a quick learner. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Well, when you get home I’ll want to know all about your first day.”

“I’ll make sure to tell you how awesome it is!” Gilbert said as he waved goodbye and headed towards the school. He only looked back once before opening the front doors.

....

Gilbert sat at his desk trying to look calm and like he didn’t care as more kids filed into the room. Most ignored him in favour of talking to their friends whom they hadn’t seen since June, a few others gave him not so subtle looks of shock when they noticed his hair.

He looked at his hands on his desk. He wasn’t surprised that people were giving him weird looks, but it didn’t hurt any less. Hopefully, the kids at this school were too big of cowards to say anything to his face. He didn’t really want to get into a fight today.

He sat up as he heard someone giggling nearby, and turned to look at the back where a few kids were staring.

“Sorry I didn’t know there were assigned seats,” a boy with brown hair said as he picked up his bag.

“How could you not know? There’s a sheet up front,” the other boy said as he sat down in the chair that had previously been taken.

The brunet shrugged and walked towards the teacher's deak, despite the uncaring front he was trying to project, Gilbert could tell he was embarrassed.

The boy leaned over and looked at the page, looking confused and frustrated for a moment, before seemingly giving up and came to sit by Gilbert.

Gilbert watched out of the corner of his eye as the kid sat down next to him and pulled out a binder. Until he turned to look at him.

“Hi, I’m Antonio! You’re new right?”

Gilbert turned in his seat and smiled. “Yes, I am new here. My name is Gilbert.”

“Nice to meet you! Did you just transfer schools, or did you just move here?”

Gilbert assumed he was just being polite and didn’t really care where he was from. “My family and I just moved her from Germany two weeks ago.”

“That’s cool!" Antonio replied, big grin on his face, "I’m from Spain but I moved here a few years ago. Hopefully, I guessed right, and we get to sit together the whole year. You seem fun.”

“What do you mean guessed right?”

“Oh,” Antonio started to fidget with his fingers, “I just had trouble reading the teacher’s handwriting is all.”

Gilbert wasn’t sure if he misheard or Antonio was lying because the seating chart had been typed and printed out. Maybe he needed glasses and forgot them?

“So, have you explored the city yet? Or just been unpacking?” Antonio asked in an attempt to change the subject.

They continued to talk about Gilbert’s moving and Antonio gave him some advice as he had gone through the same thing as well, until the teacher arrived and class started.

Class was mostly uneventful, they started with an introduction game where Gilbert was forced to speak German like a dog preforming a trick, and were told some of the things they were expected to go over and learn this year. Gilbert jotted down a few notes, but it wasn’t really needed. It was mostly just to keep him occupied until the break.

Once the bell rang, Gilbert was a bit worried that Antonio would leave without saying anything, go and spend time with his real friends. Instead, Antonio grabbed his arm and asked him if he wanted to meet his friend Francis and hang out with them. He laughed and let himself be dragged out of the classroom.

Gilbert let Antonio drag him around the halls and out into the yard, where they veered off from the crowd of students towards a secluded area. As they got closer Gilbert noticed someone with blond shoulder length hair standing against the building, playing with the cuffs of their sleeves.

“Francis!” Antonio shouted as they got within earshot, walking a bit faster in excitement. “I made a new friend!”

Francis looked up, looking a little shocked by his hair, before covering it up with a smile. “Hello, Tonio’s new friend, do you perhaps have a name, or will we have to give you one?”

“Gilbert,” he offered. “You can still give me a nickname if you want though, so long as it is cool,” he added, grinning.

Francis laughed. “Maybe just Gil for now.”

He shrugged.

“So, tell me, is your hair dyed or natural?”

Gilbert ran his hand through his hair. He must have meant coloured. “It is real. So are my eyes.”

“Mm it’s very striking.”

“Um... thanks?”

Antonio leaned in and put his arm over Gilbert’s shoulder, whispering loudly for dramatics, “It’s supposed to be a compliment but he’s not always good with those.”

“Hey! I can be good with compliments!” Francis exclaimed.

As the two continued to bicker, Gilbert smiled. Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad.

#hetaliawritersmonthly #hetalia #bad friends trio #paperuniverse post #paperuniverse writing #paperuniverse fanfic #human au #friendship #hws france #hws prussia #hws spain

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oyanachi · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Words count: 1540 Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: America (Hetalia), Sealand (Hetalia), England (Hetalia) Summary:

When America meets Sealand and vice versa.

~~~

Lol, that’s maybe the shortest summary I’ve ever done. But doesn’t it say it all? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This OS is for the first and second and almost third prompt of the @hetalia-writers-monthly.

#hetaliawritersmonthly #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #aph #hetalia world stars #hws #aph america #hws america #aph sealand #hws sealand #aph england #hws england #aph fanfiction #hws fanfiction #fanfiction

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hetalia-writers-monthly · 3 years

Text

Hello! We’re back from our break and full of inspiration and ideas for Hetalia-Writers-Monthly! We’re nearly into April; the days are getting longer and the weather is getting warmer, so we thought we’d celebrate the arrival of Spring with this month’s prompts!

Concrete: Sunshine and/or Colours

Abstract: Hope

Quote: No matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow - Unknown

You can post your works from the 16th of April to the 19th of April! Please remember to both tag your posts as #hetaliawritersmonthly and @us, so we can reblog it here for people to appreciate!

As always, a few quick reminders:

When it comes to the quote prompt, the quote doesn’t have to be used word for word. If you’d rather use it as loose inspiration instead, feel free!

As always, we ask that you specify which prompt you’ve used along with the word count, main characters, ships if there are any, and eventual trigger warnings! We’d also like to remind everyone that this event does not reblog works portraying sensitive events, as we feel that this isn’t the place to explore such heavy themes.

We’re looking forward to reading your works!

Happy writing!

#hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #hetaliawritersmonthly

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feynavaley · 3 years

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Hetalia Writers Monthly – April 2021

A quick snippet for @hetalia-writers-monthly!

Theme: Spring Prompt: “No matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow.” Characters: Canada Words: 866

———

White, Red, and Green

The woman’s features blurred in front of his eyes, the deep lines etched on her skin smoothening down. Her dark eyes, wide with gratitude, shone like stars. Matthew anchored himself to their brightness and forced his tired, aching limbs to remain steady.

He didn’t know what the woman was saying, her words muted by the ringing in his ears. She was thanking him again, probably. Or maybe, inviting him in for a warm soup and dinner… a fierce pang of pain stabbed his stomach at the thought. He couldn’t recall the last time he had had anything to eat.

Still, Matthew forced his stiff lips into a small smile, ignoring the stinging that flared up as the movement jostled the small, half-healed cuts that littered his skin.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just did what I could, what I should have done. But I really must hurry home now.”

He didn’t wait for an answer before turning his back to the woman and walking away. His legs were threatening to buckle down under him, he wasn’t sure for how long he was going to last. The old woman would have worried, insisted to take care of him.

But she shouldn’t. There are people who will need her kindness far more than I’ll ever do.

He had to keep reminding himself of that. His hands and feet were thoroughly frozen, so cold he could no longer even feel the discomfort – a tired, primitive corner of his brain was still alarmed at the fact, urging him to go back to the warmth of the woman’s house and accept some moments of rest before setting off again.

Matthew swallowed down the urge and kept walking. He could afford to wait some more time – hours, even. No lasting harm would come to him. His people, instead…

His chest ached at the thought.

This is why I can’t stop and rest. Mr Raine’s roof has some leaks and with his bad back, he can’t do anything about it on his own. If it doesn’t get fixed…

The resources were stretching thin for everybody. Whatever Matthew could do to help, he had to. He should feel guilty for thinking even for a moment about his own discomfort, too – he wanted to, but that overwhelming weariness made him numb. Unable to concentrate on anything but putting one foot in front of the other.

Even that small task was becoming more and more taxing with each passing second. Matthew tried to quicken up his pace, only for the earth to tilt to a side under him. Black spots filled his vision.

No, not now! Just a bit longer…

He bent down and braced his hands against his knees, trying to breathe in deeply. The cold air scratched his throat and chest as if he had swallowed a jar of pins.

Just a moment. I’ll rest a moment, and then I’ll go.

At that point, it was more like a prayer than a resolution. The dizzy spell wasn’t lifting, Matthew’s ears were ringing even worse than earlier. He couldn’t even see the ground in front of him – just snow, snow-covered trees, and the white sky looming over him. They all blurred together in a single, bright mass. All he could feel was the cold slapping his cheeks and seeping into his bones.

Just like his people, Matthew didn’t have much more he could give.

He tried taking a deeper breath, but his lungs seemed to rebel against the searing cold. He found himself coughing, unable keep in the air he so desperately longed for. It wasn’t long before he had to bend down, his lungs throbbing.

His body swayed dangerously.

No. I can’t fall.

Somehow, just out of willpower, he didn’t.

Little by little, even the coughing died down, leaving in its wake Matthew’s thundering heart and a deep, penetrating ache inside his chest. Bitter, slimy mucus clogged up his throat and coated his mouth.

Matthew took an experimental shallow breath and spat down. He didn’t dare to raise his head for fear the dizziness would prove to be too much to handle.

Finally, the blurred mess in front of his eyes started to solidify into shapes. The white layer of snow was now spotted with a few drops of crimson. There was some sort of twisted beauty in that cruel contrast. White, the colour of ethereal purity – and that human-made red putting on display the truth hiding behind that marvellous and terrible spectacle.

A trick of nature.

Matthew almost wanted to chuckle at that.

But as he slowly raised his head, a second glimpse of colour caught his attention. He froze in the motion, his eyes focusing on an unexpected view.

Green.

For a moment, he couldn’t believe it. But there it was – an undeniably green blade of grass, boldly making its way out of the snow.

At that moment, everything faded away. The pain, the desperation, even the illness festering in his body – nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but what the sight in front of his eyes meant.

The wave of relief that washed over Matthew felt almost warm.

Spring is coming.

For another year, they were going to beat the winter.

#hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #aph canada #hetaliawritersmonthly #ficlet #feyna's writing #kind of delirious but I've been at work until 10 pm lol #after I also ran 8 km this morning #I think it can be forgiven #I also focused more on winter oops #idk it's certainly not the most original fill but this is what I got inspiration for

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sailorgreywolf-german · 4 years

Text

New Expectations

This is for @hetalia-writers-monthly

I am ever so close to being late to posting this one, because school work was quite a lot this past week. I would have written more if I had time. I hope to post a few other oneshots focused on this relationship at some time.

Summary: After her wedding, Empress Elisabeth struggles to find her footing in court life and the new expectations of her position. In the midst of her anxieties, a new friendship starts to bloom.

Prompt: Concrete: First day

Relationship: Empress Elisabeth of Austria and Hungary (platonic)

Word Count: 2,300

She felt like she was going to faint.

Her head was spinning, and she was certain that she would soon collapse on the floor. What a fine impression that would make on the guests. All of these important dignitaries would write back to their monarchs about how the new Empress was a weak girl.

She was sure that they could all see it through her pale lipped smiles that barely concealed her nerves. She could not help the terrible anxiety that gripped her, even if she wished she could be giddy and charming.

She had felt it through the whole wedding ceremony too, especially as the words “I do” had passed her lips.

There were eyes on her as she said it, expecting so much. She had felt their stares on her back the whole time.

In a moment she had gone from a Bavarian princess of no real importance to the Empress of an empire, and it had felt like a cage closing around her.

She knew that she loved her husband, but sharing the burden of expectation with someone who had been born to it made her feel dizzy.

If she did not love him so, she would have given this place to her sister Helene as had been planned. Helene had been better prepared, and had never been chastised for riding when she was supposed to be with her tutor. In many ways, she fit this spot besides Franz so much better.

But, Elizabeth couldn’t have denied her heart, even if she had tried. If she could have married Franz and avoided the title of Empress, that would have been her greatest happiness. If they could have stayed as they were on that magical evening in Bad Ischl then she could really be happy.

But, that was a childish thing to think, even if facing people for the first time as the Empress was making her certain that she would faint.

She was certain that they were all watching her, waiting for a single faux pas to prove that she had been the wrong choice. What would they say about her behind their fans or in whispers over dinner? She shuddered to think.

Her mother had often told her that her behavior was unbecoming, even if her father had indulged her in her sports and eccentricities. Surely the world would see her as just as unbecoming.

It had been easy enough to face the many people, whose names had blurred together after the third introduction, when she could hold onto Franz’s arm. It came easily to him, like a man who had been taught to do so since he was born. He knew which friends to smile at, and which to treat with cold politeness.

She felt like dead weight holding to his arm, but at least it kept her above water. That lasted until he told her quietly, “My angel, I must speak to my mother.”

Then he had vanished from her side, and left her to wander on her own in the sea of unfamiliar people.

She couldn’t breath with them all looking at her like that. There had to be some escape.

She turned around in the center of the room, looking for some respite. Her eyes caught a glimpse of night sky, and in a moment she remembered that there was a balcony. It would not be a real escape, but it might be an opportunity for a few breaths of fresh air.

As fast as she could walk without seeming to run, she walked to the balcony. The chill of the night air was as welcome as a lover’s kiss.

Elizabeth leaned against the balustrade and tried to breath. She could feel every rib of her corset as she drew in air.

The dress had been designed to impress the court by showing her slim figure. But, it was not helping her to breath.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on not fainting. Shutting out the world made it stop spinning.

There were a couple moments of welcome silence where the sounds of people faded into the background. Once there was relative calm, she opened her eyes again.

To her great surprise, there was a handsome man in a hussar’s uniform looking at her like he was waiting for her.

She could feel herself blushing scarlet at the idea that anyone had been watching her lapse in composure.

She wasn’t certain who he was, or if they had been introduced to each other yet. The people had all blended together in a confusing blur. From the uniform, she guessed that he was a Hungarian noble.

“Are you well, your Majesty?”

Elizabeth took a moment to process the voice.

The person in front of her was a woman, it seemed. The uniform had made her assume otherwise.

But, as she looked, she realized that the figure was a tall woman with her thick brown hair in a low ponytail. The woman’s face was as handsome as a charming young courtier.

She swallowed the thoughts and questions and responded, “I just need a moment.”

The question seemed genuinely concerned, and it was not hard to give an honest answer.

She searched her mind to try to figure out if they had met before, but she was certain that she would remember. A woman in uniform was surely an unusual sight.

The woman stepped slightly closer and extended her hand, with a glass in it. She said gently, “Drink this, Your Majesty.”

Elizabeth felt like she may really keel over if she heard one more person offer her the deference that confirmed her position. She took the glass, which was cool to the touch, and said, “Please do not call me that.”

Then she paused, not certain if more alcohol would help the situation. The other woman seemed to see her hesitation and said, “It’s water, not wine, Your-“

She caught herself and then added with a smile, “What would you like to be called?”

The Empress put the glass to her lip, and took a deep drink. The coolness did help to center her. She answered the question, “I would like to just be Elizabeth.”

She knew it was honest. She would like to still simply be Elizabeth to someone, not the Empress. The other chuckled and said, “I’m Elizabeth too. Well, Erzsebet.”

She rolled the sound of her native language easily off her tongue. It sounded beautiful to the ear, even graceful in a way.

Elizabeth decided that she must ask, “Have we met before? I am sure I would remember someone like you.”

She stopped short of saying more. It would not be proper to say that she was fascinated by a woman who could wear a uniform like that.

The other smiled kindly and said, “We have not. I would have liked to meet you before, but Roderich doesn’t seem to think you need to meet the others you are going to rule.”

The name was familiar, since she had met Austria months ago. He was the severe looking man who was so kind to Franz, but who also treated her with disinterest. She was certain that he did not approve of the marriage from the way he acted.

He was Bavaria’s brother, but he seemed as different from her dear homeland as the night was to the day.

But, she slowly turned the sentence over in her mind before saying, “Then you must be Hungary.”

As soon as she reached the conclusion, it seemed like it should have been obvious. Of course Austria was not the only part of the empire, and she would meet the others in time.

The other woman inclined her head in a little bow and said, “I am, and I am glad to finally meet you.” Then, with sincere concern, she said, “Are you feeling better?”

Elizabeth took another drink of the water before answering the question. She did feel more grounded, though she felt like she would rather go straight to bed than to return to the crowds.

She took a deep breath and replied, “Yes, thank you for this.” She thought for a moment and then added, “And thank you for the company.”

A friendly presence had certainly helped to calm her nerves. Hungary replied, “I am happy to be of service. And I am glad that you got a chance to meet me before Roderich could tell you what to think. He is not very fond of me.”

Elisabeth found that strange, since Hungary was being so extraordinarily kind to her. She replied, “I am glad to have met you too.”

She hoped that she sounded sincere and not just nervous. She felt quite nervous.

Hungary said, in the tone of casual conversation, “I would like to ride with you before I leave. I have heard that you are an accomplished equestrian.”

Elizabeth smiled, glad to have a conversation topic that she knew well. She smiled back and said, “I would be happy to. You must see my horses.”

Hungary stepped slightly closer, which made the young Empress blush again. She said, “Are you ready to go back? The court is intimidating, but you will be get used to it.”

Elisabeth felt the blood drain from her face at the idea. The idea of returning to that crowd with all of those eyes made her feel light headed. She replied, “They will all look at me. They are waiting for me to do something wrong.”

Hungary shook her head and said, “They are looking at you because you are beautiful. It is not a judgement.”

Elisabeth blushed even more furiously. She felt odd and lightheaded, unlike she normally did when someone complimented her beauty.

She said, “I know that Roderich does not approve of me.” She was certain that it was true. He didn't hide his disdain for her presence, and she was uncomfortably aware of it every time they were in the same room. His eyes cast the harshest judgements, second only to her mother-in-law.

Hungary gave her a slightly pitying look and said, “Let me tell you a secret: I do not think he would approve of anyone who took some of his emperor’s time. He enjoyed having that devotion exclusively.”

She said it in a low, conspiratorial voice that made the young Empress chuckle. It was not likely that anyone would hear them out here, not anyone who would care.

She replied, “Do you know how to get him to like me better?” Hungary shook her head, “If you find the secret to that, let me know. I have been on his bad side for a decade.”

She extended his arm like a gentleman and added, “But it will help if you go back. He likes public dignity. Don’t worry, I will not make you face it alone.”

Elisabeth put the glass she was holding aside took Hungary’s arm, and decided that it was enough to help her endure the night.

Hungary led her back into the fray, and the strong steady arm was a very welcome support. Hungary spoke to her in a hushed tone, reminding her of the name of each of the nobles. Sometimes followed by a quip about how a general or a count was a stuffy royalist with no sense of imagination.

Elisabeth sometimes had to stifle a laugh with her hand. She couldn’t seem to enjoy this, even if she did.

Then Hungary inclined her head in the direction of a well-dressed woman with short hair and said, “And that is Bohemia. You should speak to her as well.”

Elisabeth nodded, and made a note that she should travel to Prague when she was allowed to. Hungary added, “In fact, I will introduce you.”

But, before she could move, a harsh voice said, “Erzsebet, what are you doing?”

They both turned to see Austria standing behind them, his face nearly as white as his uniform. He looked furious. Elisabeth wanted to shrink from that terrible, icy gaze.

But, Hungary seemed unaffected as she answered, “Being of service to my Empress.”

It was not a lie, but it also seemed brazenly impudent. Austria’s eyes raked Hungary, and he said, “I sent you a dress for this occasion, so you would look like a lady for once.”

Elisabeth felt like she would wilt if someone spoke to her like that. But, Hungary replied in a cheery tone, “I must have missed that parcel.”

The brazenness of the lie was impressive. But, Austria did not seem to believe the answer at all. There were angry lines deepening on his forehead.

Elisabeth caught sight of her husband through the crowd, and couldn’t help but feel relief that there was a possibility of escaping this argument. She was certain that she could see anger building up behind Austria’s carefully calm demeanor. It felt like she was watching a brewing storm.

To her great relief, Franz cut through the people and said, “Sissi, there you are.”

Glad for the escape, she released Hungary's arm and took her place at Franz’s side. He led her quickly away from Austria, who was looking even more furious by the second.

Once they were out of earshot, he said, “What did she say to you?”

Elisabeth responded, confused by the question, and by the edge of accusation in his voice, “She just introduced herself. That’s all.”

He tightened his hold on her arm and said, “I know you are overwhelmed, my dear. But you must not trust the Magyar woman."

It was uncharacteristically harsh of him to say so, and she was shocked by his tone. She replied, “But she was being kind.”

He shook his head and said, “She wants to destroy this empire, and she nearly did. Her rebellion is the reason I am on the throne.”

Elisabeth felt deeply troubled by the comment, but she was not certain what to say. Hungary seemed kind and sincere to her.

Franz added, “You have a kind heart, Sissi. You must guard it carefully."

Her head started to spin again, and she said, “Franz, may I go to bed? I feel ill.”

He looked at her with concern and said, “It would be best to stay for a little while longer. Can you do that, my dear.”

She nodded, certain that she would struggle through the rest of the night.

#aph hungary #empress elisabeth #aph austria #mentions of bavaria and czechia #hetaliawritersmonthly

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highway-to-helltalia · 3 years

Text

House of Memories

Author’s note: Yeet, writing another thing at the last minute for @hetalia-writers-monthly . This is Nationverse, and takes place in the same timeline? universe? as Too Old For This. Might make this stuff into a series. This is based on the quote prompt “We grew up together. You just never noticed I existed”

Word count: 710

Sweden grunted as he shoved his shoulder against the door. The hinges made an agonising groan from years of disuse, but it slowly dislodged itself from the frame and swung open. He flicked the torch on, and could feel Norway’s breath on his neck as they both peered down the narrow staircase. The torch’s light barely illuminated the floor at the bottom, obscured by cobwebs and swirling dust.

The stairs creaked, and Sweden absently worried that they might give way, his shoulders tensing. He hadn’t been down to the storage room in years, but as soon as he stepped off the lowest step a familiar sense of calm encased him. He couldn’t remember when it had fallen out of use and become nothing more than a space to store once treasured possessions. Many years ago, this room had been a library, shelves aching with the weight of ancient tomes. The shelves were still there, as were the books, but over they years they had become covered with cobwebs. Sweden wiped his finger over a bookcase as he passed, leaving a clean line in the thick film of dust.

“Shall we start over here?” Norway wandered to the far end of the room, his eyes wide as he took in every detail of the place. Of course Norway had loved this room as well, filled as it was with texts about magic. For years it had been a place of solitude for both of them, from the outside world and from each other. It may not have been opened again for many years if Iceland hadn’t accidentally used his own magical abilities to summon some less than pleasant entities which could only be dealt with using old spells that had long escaped the memories of the magic users in the Nordic household.

Sweden nodded.

As Norway turned to a bookshelf, Sweden gazed at the soft curls which tumbled down his neck and around his pointed ears. Years ago, Sweden had been entranced by those golden locks, by Norway’s delicate features and mischievous smirk. But now he looked at his friend and felt… nothing. Only an echo of the feelings he’d once had lingered on the edge of his mind.

Of course he would still do anything for his friend. But the desire to prove himself, to have Norway so much as look in his direction was gone. He couldn’t tell anymore how much of that had been real love and how much he had wanted to take what Denmark had. When his two best friends ran off into the woods training or snuggled up together by the campfire, Sweden felt alone, unwanted. Forgotten.

He traced his fingers over the fraying spine of an old book. The runes carved into the fragile material were barely discernible, yet they tugged at something in his core. A part of him that had been shut away for a long time. “I remember this,” he remarked absently as he leafed through the pages in wonder. The paper itself tingled, almost as magical as the incantations carefully inked on the pages. He pushed back the words that had begun to form at the back of his throat; reading any of these spells aloud even at a whisper could be disastrous.

“When did you learn magic?”

Sweden blinked, glanced up to see Norway looking at him with wide indigo eyes. His pale face was framed by his golden curls, the silver cross which held them back pulsing in response to the magic.

“The same time as you did.” Sweden looked levelly at him, searching for any sign of recognition.

Norway’s brow creased, his own eyes searching Sweden’s face. The air around them was no longer musty and stagnant, and in the moment of silence Sweden could feel it brush against his cheeks. “I never noticed,” Norway shrugged as he turned back to his book.

“Hm.” Sweden pressed his lips together in a thin line as he slowly turned the next page. He let out a slow sigh, the sound of which barely reached his own ears, and murmured in a low melancholy tone which almost blended with the soft magical wind which surrounded the two of them. “There were a lot of things you never noticed about me.”

#hetalia #hetaliawritersmonthly #hws norway #hws sweden #hws nordics #aph nordics #aph norway #aph sweden

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paperuniverse · 3 years

Text

Hetalia Writers Monthly November 2020

For @hetalia-writers-monthly November abstract prompt 'contentment’. This was an older idea I had sitting in my phone’s notes for over a year and this inspired me to finish it.

Read it on AO3 too

Title: Moment of Tranquility

Word Count: 474

Relationships: Germany/ North Italy

Rating: Teen & Up

Warnings: Suggestive

Summary: Ludwig doesn’t take baths too often, but today Feliciano has managed to convince him to.

—-

Germany sighed as he sat in the warm bath water, the heat feeling nice against his winter cold skin.

“You look so peaceful,” North Italy said.

“I rarely take baths. It’s... nice.” And it was nice. Germany only had baths if North Italy asked him to, otherwise he would take a brisk, cool shower. He didn’t see much point in taking a long hot shower when he had so much to do but indulging himself every once in awhile wasn’t a bad thing.

It was especially nice since they were just bathing. Last time they had taken a bath together things had gotten heated and Ludwig had ended up hitting his head on the back of the tub. Feliciano had found it quite amusing though.

“Especially with the bath salts I added,” Feliciano said, interrupting his thoughts. Ludwig cracked an eye open to look at him.

“They would be nicer if they hadn’t cost so much.”

Feliciano snorted, trying to cover a laugh. “They wouldn’t be as nice if they were cheap. Things are expensive for a reason, tesoro.”

“That’s an excuse. We both know the company could lower the cost and still manage to make a profit.”

Feliciano then lightly splashed Ludwig, making sure not to get any water out of the tub. “No more talk of money and costs! We’re supposed to be relaxing!”

Ludwig playfully splashed him back, earning an exaggerated gasp of shock.

“Don’t challenge me Luddy. You know I’ll win. I’m much more experienced in battle than you!” He splashed back, managing to splash Ludwig’s face as well this time.

Ludwig scoffed. “I think that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told me.”

“Pfft! Have you forgotten how you’ve never beaten me at fencing?”

“How could I? You never let me forget,” Ludwig replied teasingly.

They continued to playfully splash at each other until Feliciano made a particularly big splash, getting some on the floor.

“Oh, sorry Luddy! I must have gotten carried away!”

“It’s fine, the bathmat should absorb most of it, and besides, you weren’t the only one doing it.”

North Italy didn’t seem convinced.

“I’m not angry, I just want to relax.” Germany smiled. “If that’s okay with you?” He asked, a bit hesitant.

North Italy smiled brightly and moved to the other side of the tub, cuddling up against Germany’s chest. When he was settled, Germany wrapped his arms around him in a hug. “Of course, I’m okay with that.”

Germany let himself fall back gently against the side of the tub, closing his eyes once again and choosing to focus on his and North Italy’s breathing.

He knew they would have to get out eventually and dry off, clean the floor and deal with frying out the mat, but for now he was content to just rest in the warm water with his significant other.

#hetalia #gerita #hetaliawritersmonthly #fluff #suggestive #paperuniverse post #paperuniverse writing #paperuniverse fanfic #hws germany #hws north italy

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