He starts blushing again, obviously so embarrassed (like any man, really). “Sorry – I just – uh–”
“You're young, it's no surprise.” She really should at least try and be tactful here. Prussia has been a bad influence on her. Nonetheless, she pulls herself off him, watches as his body relaxes and softens. He seems peaceful.
And, irritatingly, he doesn't let it last. “I assume I am meant to return the favor now?”
Now it is her turn to stammer over words. She has no right to demand anything of him, and yet... “It is the general etiquette for these things.”
She lies down on her silk sheets, lets him slide his fingers into her. He is clumsy and overeager; his lack of experience is obvious, but she says nothing. She shakes and bucks and shivers; she aches to earn this, but she can't explain that to poor, young, awfully forgetful Germany.
“Should I–” she has no idea what he's asking her, so she makes a new question for him to answer. She takes his thumb, presses it above, where's she's most sensitive; where she's too sensitive – it's like pain, and that is good.
“Austria,” he whispers her name again; he is oh so obsessed with her name. She can't help but see significance in that. He has had so many names; he has been so many people. He is all those millions of tiny states, trying to own themselves, trying to own each other, owned by everyone outside them – she was but one more, really. And the war... it was just the tip of the iceburg.
“Germany.”
Her silk sheets are the work of silkworms; grimy, unloved creatures put to use and who die quickly. Then they are forgotten, and their life's work... it's a mark of luxury, for people like her to revel in, because they are better than others. The silkworms do not care.
-
Hungary doesn't mind. He never does. He comes in after Germany has left, as Austria wraps her robe around herself, as she composes herself again. Hungary pushes her towards the mirror, sits her down, brushes her hair.
They don't speak for awhile. She relaxes at his hands, and he sighs sadly. “What do you think you are doing, love?”
“I am strengthening an alliance with the rising new Central European power. Is that a bad thing?” she says quickly. Damn him, he knows her too well.
He says nothing. He runs his fingers through her hair, long and thick and luxurious. She sighs.
“He's not ours. He can't be.”
“I know that.” She doesn't want him to be. She doesn't trust herself.
“...He won't forgive you. He doesn't know what to forgive you for. Please, love, don't punish yourself.”
She looks away, avoiding his eyes in the mirror. “You wouldn't understand.”
“And you understand too well,” he tells her. She meets his eye again, confused. He smiles. “We all need to forget sometimes.”
“...I can't simply forget things,” she says. “I'm German.”
---
NO-ONE SAW THAT.
Some brief histories: -Fic is set during the pre-WWI era; basically, Germany is a pretty young country and it's power is rising. Prussia is still the major power behind Germany at this point. The line between Germany as a country and Germany as a geographic/cultural thing was also a lot hazier, hence why Austria calls herself German. -This whole fic kind of relies on HRE=Germany, even if I don't mention that explicitly, due to Austria having been the major power behind the Holy Roman Empire and the resulting issues. -The war Austria references is the Thirty Years War, in which religious differences led to many of the states of the HRE rebelling; everyone ever got involved, and basically it was depressing and complicated and the region was screwed. -...There's something I've forgotten to explain, isn't there?
Re: Silkworms [1/2]
“You're young, it's no surprise.” She really should at least try and be tactful here. Prussia has been a bad influence on her. Nonetheless, she pulls herself off him, watches as his body relaxes and softens. He seems peaceful.
And, irritatingly, he doesn't let it last. “I assume I am meant to return the favor now?”
Now it is her turn to stammer over words. She has no right to demand anything of him, and yet... “It is the general etiquette for these things.”
She lies down on her silk sheets, lets him slide his fingers into her. He is clumsy and overeager; his lack of experience is obvious, but she says nothing. She shakes and bucks and shivers; she aches to earn this, but she can't explain that to poor, young, awfully forgetful Germany.
“Should I–” she has no idea what he's asking her, so she makes a new question for him to answer. She takes his thumb, presses it above, where's she's most sensitive; where she's too sensitive – it's like pain, and that is good.
“Austria,” he whispers her name again; he is oh so obsessed with her name. She can't help but see significance in that. He has had so many names; he has been so many people. He is all those millions of tiny states, trying to own themselves, trying to own each other, owned by everyone outside them – she was but one more, really. And the war... it was just the tip of the iceburg.
“Germany.”
Her silk sheets are the work of silkworms; grimy, unloved creatures put to use and who die quickly. Then they are forgotten, and their life's work... it's a mark of luxury, for people like her to revel in, because they are better than others. The silkworms do not care.
-
Hungary doesn't mind. He never does. He comes in after Germany has left, as Austria wraps her robe around herself, as she composes herself again. Hungary pushes her towards the mirror, sits her down, brushes her hair.
They don't speak for awhile. She relaxes at his hands, and he sighs sadly. “What do you think you are doing, love?”
“I am strengthening an alliance with the rising new Central European power. Is that a bad thing?” she says quickly. Damn him, he knows her too well.
He says nothing. He runs his fingers through her hair, long and thick and luxurious. She sighs.
“He's not ours. He can't be.”
“I know that.” She doesn't want him to be. She doesn't trust herself.
“...He won't forgive you. He doesn't know what to forgive you for. Please, love, don't punish yourself.”
She looks away, avoiding his eyes in the mirror. “You wouldn't understand.”
“And you understand too well,” he tells her. She meets his eye again, confused. He smiles. “We all need to forget sometimes.”
“...I can't simply forget things,” she says. “I'm German.”
---
NO-ONE SAW THAT.
Some brief histories:
-Fic is set during the pre-WWI era; basically, Germany is a pretty young country and it's power is rising. Prussia is still the major power behind Germany at this point. The line between Germany as a country and Germany as a geographic/cultural thing was also a lot hazier, hence why Austria calls herself German.
-This whole fic kind of relies on HRE=Germany, even if I don't mention that explicitly, due to Austria having been the major power behind the Holy Roman Empire and the resulting issues.
-The war Austria references is the Thirty Years War, in which religious differences led to many of the states of the HRE rebelling; everyone ever got involved, and basically it was depressing and complicated and the region was screwed.
-...There's something I've forgotten to explain, isn't there?