This game of politics has made men and nations go mad, she can't say otherwise, but it won't keep her from hoping for better days and Poland's smile as he holds her hand. She's not Austria and, unlike him, she hasn't stopped hoping. But tonight is not the time to let herself dream like this, and there are letters from Bohemia that she'll probably forget read in their entirety just now. She's not like him; she'll never, ever be like him, no matter what they might say.
This used to be my favorite Hetalia ship! Until a Hungarian fan convinced otherwise. I do think it's possible to think of them as reconciled friends in the modern day..they both suffered horribly under Soviet occupation and there are stories and footage of the Hungarian Uprising, where the Austrian soldiers stood at the border (unable to cross because the USSR would call it an "invasion") calling and encouraging the Hungarians to run run run and get across the border before the Soviet Army got there, helping old Hungarian ladies up the steep river bank into neutral Austrian territory..
The way I picture it, Austria and Hungary's relationship today is civil, but I doubt that they actually enjoy being in each other's company more than necessary, mainly because Austria sort of hates everyone. That tidbit of history is very interesting, though, and thank you for sharing !
By the way, the story isn't actually finished yet. I'm curently correcting Austria's chapter and writing another Hungary POW that fits with the narative.
"You've lost weight, Austria. Have you changed your diet of cake and coffee ?"
Austria doesn't even have to look at Prussia's face to understand what he means. He can hear the grin in his voice well enough. He sips his coffee slowly, his croissant abandoned in his plate on the coffee table. There really isn't anything decent to answer to this. Prussia knows perfectly well why Austria looks a little bit under the weather.
Prussia eats voraciously, not really tasting whatever's in front of him. It's typical but Austria isn't in a position anymore to make him at least try to behave, and so he only closes his eyes out of tiredness whenever Prussia forgets what a fork is and licks the jam on his fingers. Prussia knows why Austria is receiving him, and yet he avoids the subject like it's some kind of game, mimicking this insufferable old man Austria loathes even more than Prussia's dearest Frederick. It doesn’t please Austria, even if he’s so used to the ways of politics that it’s nearly a second nature to him. Prussia is showing off in a new, discrete way this time, how much he’s grown since the old days, where he was nearly a pawn at the service of the Empire. Times change and Austria sighs. Napoleon has been dead for what seems like an eternity and the Prussians mended their ways somewhere in between Austerlitz and Sadowa. Austria hadn’t.
“And you’ve gotten fat,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Emperorship suits you ill.”
It’s a wrong answer, it really is, and it makes Prussia’s grin grow more feral. He catches Austria’s hand, pinning it against the dark wood of the coffee table. No one in the café seems to bother giving them more than a passing glance. They’re both dressed the most modern fashion, leaving the uniforms and decorum for tonight’s more official meeting. Surprisingly, it’s Austria’s idea not to talk in the palace, or maybe it’s not that surprising, somehow. He doesn’t need his wife of circumstances to eavesdrop on his dealings with Prussia.
“Didn’t suit you any better.” Prussia doesn’t make a move to back down, takes a new bite from his pastry, jam marring the corner of his mouth. Austria can’t help but to be reminded of blood. He keeps his mouth shut, lets Prussia do the talk. It’s odd, how their situation turned around so fast in the last century.
“You should have seen Bavaria in Versailles. I mean, I hate him, but damn if I didn’t feel a little bit bad about the whole deal when I saw the face he made when he saw the kid. Nah, not really, I don’t fucking care about what he thinks.”
He snorted uglily, releasing Austria’s hand to take a sip from his coffee. He looks out, and Vienna is warm again. Spring came back to the music city after winter, and Austria still has to deal with nationalities and identities whilst Prussia plays politics and orders his brothers around like a mass of puppets. He should talk with Hungary about Bohemia, he really should, but melancholy is a powerful thing and he doesn’t like dealing with his wife anyway. Ever since the end of the war and the wedding, he can’t help but to sometimes avert his gaze from her and turn toward the West. She hates him, just like that boy, so many years ago, hated him with a passion that made his whole body shake. Prussia catches that glint of nostalgia in his eyes, pushes the knife deeper into the wound.
“I really want you to meet him.” Prussia talks of him like he’s news, like Austria doesn’t know what it means to have him back. “He’s really different. Older. Stronger.”
The words cut like they should, and Austria stops breathing for a moment. Prussia won, still wins, and Austria wishes, he wishes that one day it will come back and break him the same way Austria is broken right now, feeling power slip between his fingers in a drawn-out agony. And now this.
“I can’t wait for our meeting, then,” he answers blandly, looking at the cup between his palms. He’s not hungry for pastries anymore. “Will I be welcome in Berlin any time in the near future ?”
Prussia laughs and it chills Austria’s spine, suddenly. His eyes have taken that sharper, darker colour that reminds Austria of blood.
“Oh you won’t need any of this. You always bitch about how barbaric the northerners are every time you go there. No... He’ll be joining us soon enough.”
Prussia’s expression loses that quiet smugness to observe quietly the emotions that come and go under Austria’s careful mask. Austria doesn’t have the strength to confront his gaze once more, look out the window. He thinks of calming things like the paintings in Vienna’s Künstlerhaus and the waltzes of Johann Strauss. It doesn’t really work, and he remembers bright blue eyes and the promises of power Spain whispered in his ears centuries ago, before this enlightenment and democracy that had made France go mad. The past is the past, and all he does lately is following the orders of Franz-Joseph and hoping for the best. It’s a good deal, better deal than those petty republics that keep popping up over the face of Europe. It doesn’t make his chest ache less at the souvenir of his past glory and how he knows in his gut that this, the Balkans and the wedding with Hungary, is just the beginning of the end. It doesn’t make him forget the undying devotion he had felt for the empire that was now long gone.
“You’ve gone all pensive and dreamy once again.” Prussia’s teeth are sharp, and his smile makes Austria want to break his face. Sadly, it doesn’t really work this way anymore. There’s a hand over his own once again, softer now, tracing lines over his knuckles. Prussia’s little show isn’t over, and Austria tries to deduce in his gaze if he wants him to fight it tonight or to simply let go and have him his way. Austria will probably have to pretend as if he’s putting a bit of a fight. This is what Prussia likes, and Austria gives him what he likes because he knows that this is how he’ll get what he wants.
Bismarck might be a genius, but he will never know Europe the way Austria knows it, the smallest intricacies of nations that have been along for too long for him not to have figured out their strengths and weaknesses. He averts his eyes with a practiced movement, even though it hurts, even though he wishes that it would be someone else than Prussia in front of him. He doesn’t answer because he doesn’t have anything to say to Prussia right now, except to indicate him to take what he wants and stop this game they both play out of sheer habit.
They pay and Austria’s croissant is still abandoned in his plate, because there’s a knot in his stomach that won’t go. Prussia has money, more than he has ever had in his life, money he stole from France by the arms. He smiles graciously to the waiter, speaking with that same harsh northern accent that makes Austria’s ears wince. The leave, catch a coach that make them pass through the baroque, bustling center of Vienna. It sounds and smells like it should do, when the spring comes, the metropolis with its foreign tongues and cultures. Prussia is right when he says that Austria hates Berlin, cold, small little town he remembers it to be, with the harsh, brutish ways of the Prussians.
The panorama of his own heart is nearly, nearly enough to make him forget how sharp are Prussia’s fingers in the back of his neck, hand just staying there, motionless. Politics. Everything Prussia does is always so obvious. The coach driver cannot see them from his seat and it is a good thing. Prussia has caught the degenerated ways of the French during this little war of his but it doesn’t mean that Austria will start doing those things in public like they’re normal. They’re not, and maybe he’ll have to confess afterwards, but the Catholic Church is a forgiving one. He understands the requirements of diplomacy better than anyone.
“Should I have you on your knees or on your back first ?” he whispers in his ears and Austria would roll his eyes and tell him that it’s exactly the kind of things France would say but he doesn’t. He’s not here to make him angry.
It shouldn’t infuriate Austria as much as it does to say things he doesn’t mean. Prussia doesn’t catch it in his mouth, what’s happening in his head, and he grins even more, takes a whiff of Austria’s hair like he owns it and sits back, smug. Austria doesn’t look away from the streets that surround the small coach, the smell of fresh pastries mixing itself with the stench of the industrial city, with its bodies too close with each other and it dark machines and factories.
“You know, Austria, even now, I don’t get this Great Germany of yours. It’s not just because of, you know, the old man Prime Minister. Your idea of empire aren’t fit for the modern world. There’s a reason why your dear boy died the way he did.”
Austria turns around, misses the sight of Vienna’s Prater they pass by quickly, only to give Prussia a look that might just let out a glimpse of the anger and jealousy he felt since the letter in January. He’s always been good at hiding the monsters that lurk in the shadows of every single one of them, but the sting of anger and humiliation is still there, even though he knows that he can’t fight the Prussians anymore. The war has been lost and he had to give away his hand to Hungary out of necessity.
Prussia catches the conflicting feelings in Austria’s gaze, and his teeth are white and sharp when he says the words he knows will push him over the edge.
“But your dear, not-quite-Holy and definitely not Roman Empire came back.” His voice takes a singing tone now, like those dreadful Wagner operas Bavaria loves so much. “And he’s mine now.”
It’s clear, how hurt Austria’s eyes are now, and Prussia relishes in this slight pain that shows behind half-closed lids. He touches his face lightly, as a lover would. Austria is suddenly reminded of Spain’s sunny laughs and fleeting caresses, soft foreign words on his tongue. He hadn’t loved Spain, not really, but there was this odd kind of security whenever they laid together in the morning and Spain talked in hesitant Latin about how the world was theirs for the taking.
He flinches when Prussia’s hand starts toying with his glasses, pushes him slightly away. Prussia might be a barbaric northerner but he’s not Russia, and they do share the same spoken and unspoken language. Prussia shakes his head, and yet complies. It’s not like he’s not going to get what he wants down the road.
It’s strange to step out of the horse-drawn cab in front of the palace’s door. Prussia steps out last, gives the castle of the Hapsburg an amused stare. It’s far from the Prussian pragmatism of Potsdam, but he would be an idiot to say that it isn’t gorgeous, even France, with his still head clouded by the demons of the revolution, had admitted it. The Hofburg is beautiful, has always been, and Prussia’s accent sounds stupid as it reverberates in its halls and corridors, well, stupider than usual.
That night they eat one of those official, elaborate meals in a silvery service. Prussia still doesn’t have any manners and Hungary still has that glint of hate in her hazel eyes every time she looks at her husband, dressed in that gorgeous dress Austria chose for her. The other members of the delegation are nice enough, bland, boring humans obeying the principles of Bismarck’s Realpolitik. Austria talks when the emperor wants him to, Franz-Joseph’s slow, deep tone asking him to exchange with their guests his thoughts on music.
The diplomat is from Saxony, it shows in his accent. Hungary somehow manages not to shift uncomfortably on her seat. She hates, hates, hates it when he plays Liszt, although it might be a bit his fault and the odd kind of pleasure he had taken in making her hear the sounds of her own failed revolution. He hasn’t been nice to her but she hasn’t been a good wife either, looking up north and whishing she had been a Poland’s side instead of his, never understanding that there was something greater out there than the happiness of their people alone. He answers politely, with words that don’t really matter, and it doesn’t take long for Hungary to say something she thinks is witty but sounds desperately plain. Austria smiles amiably as she does. They’re good at maintaining this facade of polite, quiet love, but Prussia knows better, from the glint of his eyes whenever he looks at them both, eating loudly and stuffing his already full mouth.
Times change, and Austria can’t do anything about it. That night, he dances with Hungary in the ballroom, and she smiles a knowing smile as they both fake to love each other. She didn’t understand at first, but now she does and nothing could keep her from reading his thoughts now. She knows about his undying devotion to an idea that was long dead, and how dearly he wanted this boy that Prussia revived with storms and wars. She knows that the simple fact that she’s dancing with him now is a sign that his power is withering and dying.
“So it’s true,” she whispers in his ear and it shouldn’t sting as much as it does. “Prussia managed to do what you could never do.”
His grip on her hand as he leads grows tighter but her smile doesn’t even waver. He can’t break her anymore, and he knows how much she hates him for all the things he has done to her. Resigned, he sighs.
I'm madly in love with your prose, anon! It's so poetic and vibrant, and it feels like at least every other line has some double meaning or otherwise nice imagery. And the characterization is perfect as well.
I Also like to see the situation from Austria's point of view :) I like how he is also portrayed being troubled, so it's not a black and white world, but he is suffering too. Your writing is really enjoyable! Also, poor Austria about the Holy Roman! But he did some pretty bad things too. Hehehe, as I said I really like the moral ambiguity and showing different sides.
Glad OP likes ! I must admit I like writing Austria very much, and it might show in the story. (Also Prussia being a douche is one of the things I absolutely adore doing, because damn, he's not a nice guy.) I don't have much compassion for Austria, though, because his thinking (in this verse at least) is imperialistic, mysoginistic, anti-democratic and overall horrible. I'm a bit lacking in knowledge when it comes to central Europe and the Balkans, though, so I hope I won't get too many things wrong with the rest. (It's centered around German unification and Bismarckian diplomacy anyway, mainly because I'm a terrible person and Author Appeal.) I didn't know at all about that fact about Polish fighters in Hungary, thank you very much for educating me tonight !
Also, for the HRE!anon before that (I don't want to use too much comment space...) I kinda lost track of most of my Hetalia fic on the meme. I don't remember writing anything centered on Austria's relationship with HRE, even though the idea that he might have been the only person he ever really loved often ends up popping out whenever I write fic about German history one way or another. Mentioning Bavaria and Saxony is a thing I do often too. (Why, why, why don't they have defined canon characters with a proper profile yet ?!!) I think there are some of my fics from a few years back that could somehow belong in the same verse. (The one that comes to mind was with a really naive Germany that thinks about his brothers in the trenches of WWI.) I guess I should dig into the meme and try to post the links with the next update if I find them.
Thank you for your kind comments ! I'll be finishing up the third part hopefully soon enough.
Germany is young, a lot younger that Hungary thought he would feel like. He’s like a boy who grew up too fast, large shoulders and strong limbs that move awkwardly, unaware of their own strength. He doesn’t inspire her as much disgust as Austria or Prussia, mainly because he doesn’t seem to fully grasp everything that’s happening around him. It’s endearing, really. He has the same blond hair as Saxony, the slow pronunciation of Bavaria, the large built of Westphalia and the same way of holding himself proudly as Prussia. He’s as ridiculously German as Austria isn’t, riding a horse with the assurance of a nation made to wage wars, watching his host play Wagner with childish wonder. Austria hates Wagner, but Prussia likes torturing him in that new, subtle way that the modern times have taught him. He plays mechanically and badly, but Hungary is the only one who catches it, the way his hands aren’t really putting the right amount of emotion into the piece, skipping beats by a small instant.
And yet there’s something left, something that’s not quite new in the way Germany doesn’t talk about himself directly, listening to Prussia’s words as if they were the words of God. Austria’s glance avoids him as if he were some kind of eyesore, which he obviously isn’t, and Hungary wonders if it’s out of jealousy or out of hurt. She hopes that it’s both.
They’ve retreated to Schönbrunn before Germany’s arrival, on her own impulsion. The Hofburg doesn’t have a park large enough for her to avoid Austria and Prussia, and spring has come back to Vienna, giving her an excuse to escape its small streets and court gossip for a bit. Elizabeth is gone again and she feels a bit alone, but it doesn’t really matter. She walks in the park of the palace, plays her role, pretends to love Austria in front of their guests, even though it’s only Germany who actually believes in the lie. Prussia doesn’t seem to make a move to change his mind, and maybe it’s better this way for now. It doesn’t change the fact that Hungary wants to crub her skin off whenever Austria kisses her hand with a charming bow.
“Vienna is beautiful,” Germany says simply as they stroll through the gardens. It’s a surprisingly warm day, with the sun shining bright in the sky. Austria and Prussia are busy with politics, and neither Hungary or Germany have any real power in that kind of decision making.
“Yes, very,” she lies, easily. He’s not bad intentioned, just a bit new to how everything works here, and she can’t really blame him for that. “My husband and I like to leave the city a bit during the warmer months, to come here and profit from the parks and the gardens.” “A bit like Sanssouci...”
Germany smiles a bit, and Hungary doesn’t really know what to do of this. There’s an aura of complete sincerity about him, a boy in the body of a man. He doesn’t seem to realise how many times she fought Prussia, how both her and Austria loathe his beloved brother for diverse yet valid reasons. He doesn’t get that the reason why they’re receiving them like this is not because they want to be friends, but because they’re forced to. Germany knows nothing of the world but the lights of victory in Versailles, the careful words exchanged between his brothers in front of Prussia and the celebrations of an Empire that has just been born.
“I guess it’s a bit like that, yes.”
She nods and they keep on walking, under the moving shadows of the trees, with the sound of leaves that rustle with the wind. They don’t need to speak any more than that, and Hungary observes the sky through the branches for a moment, and can’t help but to think about how easy it would be to catch a boat on the Danube from here and be in Budapest to see spring in the city and hear the sound of her own language on the streets. She knows that it won’t happen. Germany is still but a boy and already he has the whole world in front of him, an empire to himself and the whole of Europe to conquer. It doesn’t fit him, somehow, because he doesn’t have this subtle lust for power Prussia and Austria have.
Germany's low voice drags her out of her reflections. He seems somehow uneasy, as if it's an important question and he believes that she'll answer honestly. He probably does, given his age and obvious naivety.
"Of course." "Is it normal..." He takes a deep breath. "Prussia and Austria's dealings ?"
Had Hungary not been used to hide her emotions carefully, she would have laughed at the way Germany seems uncomfortable with Austria's ways. He's good at what he does, Hungary can't deny him that, the subtle movements of the hand that make Prussia go insane with lust. If Hungary didn't hate him the way she did, for the scars on her back and the way he twisted words to make her submit to him, maybe she would have felt the same way as Prussia does. Austria represents everything Prussia will never truly have, and maybe that's the only reason why he can't help but to push him against the mattress and have his way as Austria silently complies.
Austria always silently complies, with Prussia, with Spain, long ago, with France and with Russia, buying his way out of wars with delicate hands and a skilled mouth. He's always been so dreadful at these war games anyway.
"It's normal for my husband," she answers simply, and it's not exactly false.
Germany stops walking and Hungary only realise a few seconds later, turning around to look at him strangely. He seems shocked to learn that Austria wages his war badly but loses beautifully. He takes a few moments to think, unmoving. When he speaks once again, there's this sort of misguided compassion in his voice. He doesn't understand that Hungary has never cared much for Austria's well-being and dignity since the start of the last century.
"I, em, I'm sorry."
He apologise as if it's his fault Prussia is the way he is, and Hungary walks up to him, places her hand on his large shoulders, smile with a gesture she stole from Austria, chasing away some invisible dust from the shoulder of Germany's obviously new coat. He flinchs at the gesture first, as if it was the first time a woman ever touched him. Maybe it is. Germany has been raised by weapons and men.
It's a bit sad because Germany can't really see the blind mix of adoration and hate that mixes itself in Austria's eyes every time he looks at him. Hungary does, and relishes in it, the pain that shows in small little ways under Austria's fair skin. He's too much like the Empire, before Europe took a shift toward this new era of science and reason for Austria not to feel that stir inside him, and yet he's too much like Prussia for Austria to ever forget that the Empire, his empire, is dead. Maybe Hungary should help him understand what's happening right now. She feels like she has to.
"Don't be sorry. That's the way it has always been."
They don't say more, walk in silence, Hungary looking at the sun that announces a nice summer over Vienna. Germany seems to be engrossed in profound reflections, as if Hungary's words were the most undecipherable hieroglyphs. They head back to Schönbrunn after a while, and Germany's steps grow more military as they approach the castle, knowing that he'll be facing his brother once again. The same nauseating obedience to Prussia flows from his pores once again. He can't see how sick it makes Hungary, but once again, it's most probably a good thing for his to be a tiny little bit ignorant of whatever his happening backstage.
They eat together as hosts and guests should, With the four of them over the table, Austria seems remarkably easy between Germany and Prussia, even though Hungary knows from the way he moves his neck that Prussia left traces of his passage over his body. He still avoids to look at Germany, still makes small, fancy talk in that singing accent of him that could have been endearing if Hungary hadn't been so sick of hearing it. German still feel strange on her lips when she adds little bits to the conversation. Prussia isn't mannered, has never been, but it's mainly because it pisses Austria so much that he does that.
"How is Bavaria ?" Austria dares to ask, and Prussia gives him an empty look, It's Germany that answers the question swiftly, with that blind, trusting ignorance that characterise him.
"He's been a bit sick, but he'll be better soon enough. Munich is always pretty at this time of the year."
Austria makes a spiritual comment about Bavaria's ever-changing mood and affections, and Prussia snorts very loudly. He doesn't say anything vulgar, though, and that alone surprises Hungary very much.
"Maybe we'll go visit him on the way back, won't we Germany ?"
Germany nods a powerful, convinced nod, and it's in that kind of moments that it shows the most, how ridiculously young he is. It always takes a century to truly understand the ways of humans and their games of war and peace.
They don't talk about how Prussia now wants to take over the world and how Austria would give everything to have Germany dead and the Empire back. There's nothing positive that could ever come out of something like this, and Prussia seems to want to keep Germany in that blissful ignorance he's in. Austria and Hungary aren't in the mood or a position to object. Germany talks a bit about Paris and the rest under Prussia's request, and it makes Austria's eyes shine with a thin shade of anger.
Sometimes, Prussia's hand lingers a bit too long under the table and Hungary tries not to show her amusement on her face. Austria's glances do the work to keep her from rising from her seat and head to her rooms as fast as she can. It's all too amusing, and there's this revengeful warmth in his chest that spreads to her whole body as she thinks of Austria breaking under Prussia's touch. It's not much but he suffers, and it's the best she'll get.
That night, she writes to Poland, a long letter of longing, and she remembers the better days, the colour of his blond hair in the sun. There aren't enough pretty words in German to make him understand the extent of her feelings, how she wishes that Russia's hands and Austria's words hadn't broken her into submission. There aren't enough words in German but Poland has never learned Hungarian, probably never will. There's the sound of ink against paper and she realises that she should have gotten herself a room closer to Austria's, only to hear his muffled breathing as Prussia uses him as a victor does, the way Austria never got himself to use her, leaving bruises of words over her body.
Maybe she's terrible for thinking those things. Maybe things could have been different and choices right, and now she could be free, had Austria chosen the right words or Russia hadn't beaten rebellion out of her senseless. Poland doesn't need to know about the demons hiding into the corners of her soul. Only Austria ever sees those, because she can't help it, really, and he brings out the worst out of her, even more than Prussia or Turkey or any of the others. That's how they work, nowadays, and the Empress still doesn't eat and the Emperor still has this underlying hardness in his eyes whenever he speaks to Hungary.
When she wets her fingers and pinches the candle on her small wooden desk off, she can't help but to think of Germany and of the terrible things are waiting for him when he'll finally wake up and see things for what they are. France is a time bomb waiting to blow up, even Hungary, who doesn't take care of diplomacy, knows it. Prussia will break his beloved brother just as how he broke every weapon he ever used, at one point or another. Hungary can feel it in her gut that when he does, it'll somehow be Austria's fault.
I've got an epilogue for this planned out, I'll write it down at one point or another, I think... Also I can't find my old fics nowhere, sorry for last time's anon.
I did research on the Anschluss recently, and one of the lines comes back to when reading this fic. Something about how the Austrians had always belonged to some greater entity and thought that's the way it should be, but the more the Germans talked about Greater Germany and German this German that, the more the Austrians didn't feel like they were part of it.
Yes ! Yes, exactly ! Oh god, I'm so happy that reading this made you reflect and research a bit on history and everything :D !
It's mainly subtext and I didn't feel like pulling a Victor Hugo and write a complete Author Tract (It's fanfiction, so yeah, not a place to write an essay...) but I wanted to contrast the vision Bismarck's Prussia (I know he's not Kaiser, but he's the mastermind here, sorry House of Hohenzollern.) and Franz-Joseph's Austria-Hungary had of what should be a country. On one side, you have the German Empire led by Prussia, Bismarck's "Kleindeutschland" centered around protestant Prussia that comprises people that more or less share the same language and culture. On the other side, you've got the multicultural danubian Monarchy, that's centered around a common monarch (sexy, sexy neo-absolutism) that got its ass kicked out of the German nation in the Austro-Prussian War because it liked the idea of a "Großdeutschland" ressembling the Holy Roman Empire. (Also Bismarck. Never forget Bismarck.)
So right now, they're in 1871-1872, the German Empire just got proclaimed after kicking France's ass, Prussia sort of wants to rub it in Austria's face that he's on the top of the world right now and Austria sort of still feels angry about having to share his power with Hungary and marry her. But Realpolitik; Prussia's new nemesis isn't Austria, it's France, and he won't do the usual "I kicked your ass, give me everything now" people do, chosing instead to be a bit more subtle in making him his bitch (as in having him as an ally or neutral in case the German Empire gets in a war, with France, most probably). Austria accepts the idea of a German Empire without him passively, becomes Prussia's ally in the Triplice later on, turns toward the Balkans because he can't go West anymore. The thing is that the idea of "one nation = one country" is kind of terrible for the Hapsburgs (and Austria), given that they have a lot of nations in one political entity. The worst part is that, since the marriage sort of gave Hungary a bit of freedom on smaller matters, the other nationalities want the same. Also, Hungary's growing influence in the empire makes her a bit bossy around the other nationalities, to which she imposes her own culture and political system the same way Austria did before that.
Then stuff happens and WWI and YEAH I'M RAMBLING. Anyway, A!A is ridiculously happy right now that someone got a bit of the historical subtext and hopes that the story is still enjoyable without having to search Wikipedia for history stuff or anything. (I'm a total nerd for 19th century politics, but I understand how most people find it really boring.)
Talking about Wikipedia, some more stuff, if anybody is interested: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/German_question http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magyarisation
Thank you Anon for another great part of the fill :) You put out a very cute young Germany. Don't worry, I was getting the references about the Prussia-Austria dynamics. I did learn in school about how Prussia and Austria were kinda initially competing as who would be able to make a united Germany, but then the Habsburgs wanted to keep their other nationalities, and how then Prussia managed to exclude the Austrians from Germany.
About the so called "magyarization", it is a bit of a more complex problem, and just the article you linked is not showing all the sides to it. Laws were in place to protect nationalities, but they were not acted on the same way at different places, and often the differences were due to the different views and cultures of the nationalities. For example the croatians were part of the Hungarian kingdom as a partly autonomous kingdom since around the 1100s or something, and quite different to almost all other nationalities in the kingdom, the croations had their own nobles and intellectuals. In other nationalities, like slovaks and romanians, they were almost exclusively low-social status people to begin with (to better understand it as well, a lot of different nationalities moved into the Hungarian kingdom after certain wars decreased the population on certain areas, but people moving in were mainly very common, low-born people, so they were not bringing nobles etc with them), and had little say in politics. With time, they began to get intellectuals who could speak up for them, but quite critically, politics at the time were controlled by nobles, and with little to none representation from certain nationalities, their issues were harder to represent. I mean back then, the parliament was almost entirely composed of nobles, at least the high, decision making class of them, so nationalities without them would be sorely under-represented.
Also as I think there were differences in attitude as well. Like the german and jewish nationalities inside Hungary were willing to identify with being part of a Hungarian nation, and working with the system, instead of going against it. On the other hand, Romanians for example had a much more negative attitude towards Hungarian national identity, and felt that it threatened their own national identity, and as the more they reflected their negative attitude, the more the system pushed down on them. Also there are some post-trianon political considerations as to why some nations try to enlarge those Austro-Hungarian times policies, and may want to show them in a skewed light. The Slovaks are a pretty extreme example, where they even argue that they were physically aggressively oppressed even, citing events that are not very realistic representations (like the massacre, where the shooting was ordered by ethnic slovaks). It's a very complicated problem, that is not necessarily properly represented even or especially on wikipedia. There are cases when wikipedia is not necessarily the best to trust. Oh well, I need to get back to studying!
Wow. I... wow. This is excellent- your characters are so believable, and I actually really love this time period a lot, and I just. Wow. (Also, your Germany hurts my soul (in a good way!)- he's so naive and earnest and you know the (first half of the) coming century is just going to beat it out of him really brutally and just ouch.)
Wow Anon, that was awesome, just like I imagined! You totally made my day :) I do agree with other anons that Austria's and Hungary's relationship nowadays is a lot more mellow, but I really miss reading stuff where their "marriage" is portrayed a bit more realistically (it was called historically the Compromise for a reason)! And this was awesome. I think you really got Austria's personality well. I don't think that outright rape would fit his personality, but showing dominance by fear and emotional control is really cool, and maybe even darker as well. Hungary is quite a physical person, and she might even deal better with physical oppression and hurt much better, than emotional. Austria is probably clever enough to realize that.
Also bonus points for the Poland references :) I have this head-cannon that the 1848 fight for freedom against Austria was partly because of Poland fuelling Hungary's feelings during a heated, secret affair. It is historical fact that after the failed 1830 Polish independence war against the Hapsburgs lots of Polish rebels took refugee in Hungary. Hapsburg officials initially tried to hunt them down, but Hungarians not only hid them well, but protested so much that the Hapsburg gave up, after which the Polish refugees could move around in Hungary completely freely and publicly, virtually under the nose of the Hapsburg. I'm sure that these Polish people did have some part in inspiring Hungarians to fight for independence, not to mention the several thousands of Polish soldiers actually fighting very successfully in the war. So yeah, thank you very much for adding that bonus.
Also sorry for replying so late, I don't come here very often, but your fill made me very very happy! Thank you very much!
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Re: Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (1d/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-09 01:45 pm (UTC)(link)That night, she sleeps a dreamless sleep.
Re: Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (1d/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-09 01:59 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (1d/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-09 09:47 pm (UTC)(link)This used to be my favorite Hetalia ship! Until a Hungarian fan convinced otherwise. I do think it's possible to think of them as reconciled friends in the modern day..they both suffered horribly under Soviet occupation and there are stories and footage of the Hungarian Uprising, where the Austrian soldiers stood at the border (unable to cross because the USSR would call it an "invasion") calling and encouraging the Hungarians to run run run and get across the border before the Soviet Army got there, helping old Hungarian ladies up the steep river bank into neutral Austrian territory..
Re: Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (1d/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-10 02:38 am (UTC)(link)The way I picture it, Austria and Hungary's relationship today is civil, but I doubt that they actually enjoy being in each other's company more than necessary, mainly because Austria sort of hates everyone. That tidbit of history is very interesting, though, and thank you for sharing !
By the way, the story isn't actually finished yet. I'm curently correcting Austria's chapter and writing another Hungary POW that fits with the narative.
Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (2a/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-10 09:51 am (UTC)(link)Austria doesn't even have to look at Prussia's face to understand what he means. He can hear the grin in his voice well enough. He sips his coffee slowly, his croissant abandoned in his plate on the coffee table. There really isn't anything decent to answer to this. Prussia knows perfectly well why Austria looks a little bit under the weather.
Prussia eats voraciously, not really tasting whatever's in front of him. It's typical but Austria isn't in a position anymore to make him at least try to behave, and so he only closes his eyes out of tiredness whenever Prussia forgets what a fork is and licks the jam on his fingers. Prussia knows why Austria is receiving him, and yet he avoids the subject like it's some kind of game, mimicking this insufferable old man Austria loathes even more than Prussia's dearest Frederick. It doesn’t please Austria, even if he’s so used to the ways of politics that it’s nearly a second nature to him. Prussia is showing off in a new, discrete way this time, how much he’s grown since the old days, where he was nearly a pawn at the service of the Empire. Times change and Austria sighs. Napoleon has been dead for what seems like an eternity and the Prussians mended their ways somewhere in between Austerlitz and Sadowa. Austria hadn’t.
“And you’ve gotten fat,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Emperorship suits you ill.”
It’s a wrong answer, it really is, and it makes Prussia’s grin grow more feral. He catches Austria’s hand, pinning it against the dark wood of the coffee table. No one in the café seems to bother giving them more than a passing glance. They’re both dressed the most modern fashion, leaving the uniforms and decorum for tonight’s more official meeting. Surprisingly, it’s Austria’s idea not to talk in the palace, or maybe it’s not that surprising, somehow. He doesn’t need his wife of circumstances to eavesdrop on his dealings with Prussia.
“Didn’t suit you any better.” Prussia doesn’t make a move to back down, takes a new bite from his pastry, jam marring the corner of his mouth. Austria can’t help but to be reminded of blood. He keeps his mouth shut, lets Prussia do the talk. It’s odd, how their situation turned around so fast in the last century.
“You should have seen Bavaria in Versailles. I mean, I hate him, but damn if I didn’t feel a little bit bad about the whole deal when I saw the face he made when he saw the kid. Nah, not really, I don’t fucking care about what he thinks.”
He snorted uglily, releasing Austria’s hand to take a sip from his coffee. He looks out, and Vienna is warm again. Spring came back to the music city after winter, and Austria still has to deal with nationalities and identities whilst Prussia plays politics and orders his brothers around like a mass of puppets. He should talk with Hungary about Bohemia, he really should, but melancholy is a powerful thing and he doesn’t like dealing with his wife anyway. Ever since the end of the war and the wedding, he can’t help but to sometimes avert his gaze from her and turn toward the West. She hates him, just like that boy, so many years ago, hated him with a passion that made his whole body shake. Prussia catches that glint of nostalgia in his eyes, pushes the knife deeper into the wound.
“I really want you to meet him.” Prussia talks of him like he’s news, like Austria doesn’t know what it means to have him back. “He’s really different. Older. Stronger.”
The words cut like they should, and Austria stops breathing for a moment. Prussia won, still wins, and Austria wishes, he wishes that one day it will come back and break him the same way Austria is broken right now, feeling power slip between his fingers in a drawn-out agony. And now this.
“I can’t wait for our meeting, then,” he answers blandly, looking at the cup between his palms. He’s not hungry for pastries anymore. “Will I be welcome in Berlin any time in the near future ?”
Prussia laughs and it chills Austria’s spine, suddenly. His eyes have taken that sharper, darker colour that reminds Austria of blood.
Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (2b/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-10 09:54 am (UTC)(link)Prussia’s expression loses that quiet smugness to observe quietly the emotions that come and go under Austria’s careful mask. Austria doesn’t have the strength to confront his gaze once more, look out the window. He thinks of calming things like the paintings in Vienna’s Künstlerhaus and the waltzes of Johann Strauss. It doesn’t really work, and he remembers bright blue eyes and the promises of power Spain whispered in his ears centuries ago, before this enlightenment and democracy that had made France go mad. The past is the past, and all he does lately is following the orders of Franz-Joseph and hoping for the best. It’s a good deal, better deal than those petty republics that keep popping up over the face of Europe. It doesn’t make his chest ache less at the souvenir of his past glory and how he knows in his gut that this, the Balkans and the wedding with Hungary, is just the beginning of the end. It doesn’t make him forget the undying devotion he had felt for the empire that was now long gone.
“You’ve gone all pensive and dreamy once again.” Prussia’s teeth are sharp, and his smile makes Austria want to break his face. Sadly, it doesn’t really work this way anymore. There’s a hand over his own once again, softer now, tracing lines over his knuckles. Prussia’s little show isn’t over, and Austria tries to deduce in his gaze if he wants him to fight it tonight or to simply let go and have him his way. Austria will probably have to pretend as if he’s putting a bit of a fight. This is what Prussia likes, and Austria gives him what he likes because he knows that this is how he’ll get what he wants.
Bismarck might be a genius, but he will never know Europe the way Austria knows it, the smallest intricacies of nations that have been along for too long for him not to have figured out their strengths and weaknesses. He averts his eyes with a practiced movement, even though it hurts, even though he wishes that it would be someone else than Prussia in front of him. He doesn’t answer because he doesn’t have anything to say to Prussia right now, except to indicate him to take what he wants and stop this game they both play out of sheer habit.
They pay and Austria’s croissant is still abandoned in his plate, because there’s a knot in his stomach that won’t go. Prussia has money, more than he has ever had in his life, money he stole from France by the arms. He smiles graciously to the waiter, speaking with that same harsh northern accent that makes Austria’s ears wince. The leave, catch a coach that make them pass through the baroque, bustling center of Vienna. It sounds and smells like it should do, when the spring comes, the metropolis with its foreign tongues and cultures. Prussia is right when he says that Austria hates Berlin, cold, small little town he remembers it to be, with the harsh, brutish ways of the Prussians.
The panorama of his own heart is nearly, nearly enough to make him forget how sharp are Prussia’s fingers in the back of his neck, hand just staying there, motionless. Politics. Everything Prussia does is always so obvious. The coach driver cannot see them from his seat and it is a good thing. Prussia has caught the degenerated ways of the French during this little war of his but it doesn’t mean that Austria will start doing those things in public like they’re normal. They’re not, and maybe he’ll have to confess afterwards, but the Catholic Church is a forgiving one. He understands the requirements of diplomacy better than anyone.
“Should I have you on your knees or on your back first ?” he whispers in his ears and Austria would roll his eyes and tell him that it’s exactly the kind of things France would say but he doesn’t. He’s not here to make him angry.
“I don’t care.”
Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (2c/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-10 09:55 am (UTC)(link)“You know, Austria, even now, I don’t get this Great Germany of yours. It’s not just because of, you know, the old man Prime Minister. Your idea of empire aren’t fit for the modern world. There’s a reason why your dear boy died the way he did.”
Austria turns around, misses the sight of Vienna’s Prater they pass by quickly, only to give Prussia a look that might just let out a glimpse of the anger and jealousy he felt since the letter in January. He’s always been good at hiding the monsters that lurk in the shadows of every single one of them, but the sting of anger and humiliation is still there, even though he knows that he can’t fight the Prussians anymore. The war has been lost and he had to give away his hand to Hungary out of necessity.
Prussia catches the conflicting feelings in Austria’s gaze, and his teeth are white and sharp when he says the words he knows will push him over the edge.
“But your dear, not-quite-Holy and definitely not Roman Empire came back.” His voice takes a singing tone now, like those dreadful Wagner operas Bavaria loves so much. “And he’s mine now.”
It’s clear, how hurt Austria’s eyes are now, and Prussia relishes in this slight pain that shows behind half-closed lids. He touches his face lightly, as a lover would. Austria is suddenly reminded of Spain’s sunny laughs and fleeting caresses, soft foreign words on his tongue. He hadn’t loved Spain, not really, but there was this odd kind of security whenever they laid together in the morning and Spain talked in hesitant Latin about how the world was theirs for the taking.
He flinches when Prussia’s hand starts toying with his glasses, pushes him slightly away. Prussia might be a barbaric northerner but he’s not Russia, and they do share the same spoken and unspoken language. Prussia shakes his head, and yet complies. It’s not like he’s not going to get what he wants down the road.
It’s strange to step out of the horse-drawn cab in front of the palace’s door. Prussia steps out last, gives the castle of the Hapsburg an amused stare. It’s far from the Prussian pragmatism of Potsdam, but he would be an idiot to say that it isn’t gorgeous, even France, with his still head clouded by the demons of the revolution, had admitted it. The Hofburg is beautiful, has always been, and Prussia’s accent sounds stupid as it reverberates in its halls and corridors, well, stupider than usual.
That night they eat one of those official, elaborate meals in a silvery service. Prussia still doesn’t have any manners and Hungary still has that glint of hate in her hazel eyes every time she looks at her husband, dressed in that gorgeous dress Austria chose for her. The other members of the delegation are nice enough, bland, boring humans obeying the principles of Bismarck’s Realpolitik. Austria talks when the emperor wants him to, Franz-Joseph’s slow, deep tone asking him to exchange with their guests his thoughts on music.
“And your thoughts on Liszt, Maestro ?”
Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (2d/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-10 09:57 am (UTC)(link)Times change, and Austria can’t do anything about it. That night, he dances with Hungary in the ballroom, and she smiles a knowing smile as they both fake to love each other. She didn’t understand at first, but now she does and nothing could keep her from reading his thoughts now. She knows about his undying devotion to an idea that was long dead, and how dearly he wanted this boy that Prussia revived with storms and wars. She knows that the simple fact that she’s dancing with him now is a sign that his power is withering and dying.
“So it’s true,” she whispers in his ear and it shouldn’t sting as much as it does. “Prussia managed to do what you could never do.”
His grip on her hand as he leads grows tighter but her smile doesn’t even waver. He can’t break her anymore, and he knows how much she hates him for all the things he has done to her. Resigned, he sighs.
“Yes.”
Re: Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (2d/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-10 08:05 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (2d/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-11 12:48 pm (UTC)(link)OP
(Anonymous) 2013-05-11 03:37 pm (UTC)(link)Re: OP
(Anonymous) 2013-05-11 10:50 pm (UTC)(link)Also, for the HRE!anon before that (I don't want to use too much comment space...) I kinda lost track of most of my Hetalia fic on the meme. I don't remember writing anything centered on Austria's relationship with HRE, even though the idea that he might have been the only person he ever really loved often ends up popping out whenever I write fic about German history one way or another. Mentioning Bavaria and Saxony is a thing I do often too. (Why, why, why don't they have defined canon characters with a proper profile yet ?!!) I think there are some of my fics from a few years back that could somehow belong in the same verse. (The one that comes to mind was with a really naive Germany that thinks about his brothers in the trenches of WWI.) I guess I should dig into the meme and try to post the links with the next update if I find them.
Thank you for your kind comments ! I'll be finishing up the third part hopefully soon enough.
Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (3a/3)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-13 10:36 am (UTC)(link)And yet there’s something left, something that’s not quite new in the way Germany doesn’t talk about himself directly, listening to Prussia’s words as if they were the words of God. Austria’s glance avoids him as if he were some kind of eyesore, which he obviously isn’t, and Hungary wonders if it’s out of jealousy or out of hurt. She hopes that it’s both.
They’ve retreated to Schönbrunn before Germany’s arrival, on her own impulsion. The Hofburg doesn’t have a park large enough for her to avoid Austria and Prussia, and spring has come back to Vienna, giving her an excuse to escape its small streets and court gossip for a bit. Elizabeth is gone again and she feels a bit alone, but it doesn’t really matter. She walks in the park of the palace, plays her role, pretends to love Austria in front of their guests, even though it’s only Germany who actually believes in the lie. Prussia doesn’t seem to make a move to change his mind, and maybe it’s better this way for now. It doesn’t change the fact that Hungary wants to crub her skin off whenever Austria kisses her hand with a charming bow.
“Vienna is beautiful,” Germany says simply as they stroll through the gardens. It’s a surprisingly warm day, with the sun shining bright in the sky. Austria and Prussia are busy with politics, and neither Hungary or Germany have any real power in that kind of decision making.
“Yes, very,” she lies, easily. He’s not bad intentioned, just a bit new to how everything works here, and she can’t really blame him for that. “My husband and I like to leave the city a bit during the warmer months, to come here and profit from the parks and the gardens.”
“A bit like Sanssouci...”
Germany smiles a bit, and Hungary doesn’t really know what to do of this. There’s an aura of complete sincerity about him, a boy in the body of a man. He doesn’t seem to realise how many times she fought Prussia, how both her and Austria loathe his beloved brother for diverse yet valid reasons. He doesn’t get that the reason why they’re receiving them like this is not because they want to be friends, but because they’re forced to. Germany knows nothing of the world but the lights of victory in Versailles, the careful words exchanged between his brothers in front of Prussia and the celebrations of an Empire that has just been born.
“I guess it’s a bit like that, yes.”
She nods and they keep on walking, under the moving shadows of the trees, with the sound of leaves that rustle with the wind. They don’t need to speak any more than that, and Hungary observes the sky through the branches for a moment, and can’t help but to think about how easy it would be to catch a boat on the Danube from here and be in Budapest to see spring in the city and hear the sound of her own language on the streets. She knows that it won’t happen. Germany is still but a boy and already he has the whole world in front of him, an empire to himself and the whole of Europe to conquer. It doesn’t fit him, somehow, because he doesn’t have this subtle lust for power Prussia and Austria have.
“I... Can I ask you a question ?”
Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (3b/3)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-13 10:42 am (UTC)(link)"Of course."
"Is it normal..." He takes a deep breath. "Prussia and Austria's dealings ?"
Had Hungary not been used to hide her emotions carefully, she would have laughed at the way Germany seems uncomfortable with Austria's ways. He's good at what he does, Hungary can't deny him that, the subtle movements of the hand that make Prussia go insane with lust. If Hungary didn't hate him the way she did, for the scars on her back and the way he twisted words to make her submit to him, maybe she would have felt the same way as Prussia does. Austria represents everything Prussia will never truly have, and maybe that's the only reason why he can't help but to push him against the mattress and have his way as Austria silently complies.
Austria always silently complies, with Prussia, with Spain, long ago, with France and with Russia, buying his way out of wars with delicate hands and a skilled mouth. He's always been so dreadful at these war games anyway.
"It's normal for my husband," she answers simply, and it's not exactly false.
Germany stops walking and Hungary only realise a few seconds later, turning around to look at him strangely. He seems shocked to learn that Austria wages his war badly but loses beautifully. He takes a few moments to think, unmoving. When he speaks once again, there's this sort of misguided compassion in his voice. He doesn't understand that Hungary has never cared much for Austria's well-being and dignity since the start of the last century.
"I, em, I'm sorry."
He apologise as if it's his fault Prussia is the way he is, and Hungary walks up to him, places her hand on his large shoulders, smile with a gesture she stole from Austria, chasing away some invisible dust from the shoulder of Germany's obviously new coat. He flinchs at the gesture first, as if it was the first time a woman ever touched him. Maybe it is. Germany has been raised by weapons and men.
It's a bit sad because Germany can't really see the blind mix of adoration and hate that mixes itself in Austria's eyes every time he looks at him. Hungary does, and relishes in it, the pain that shows in small little ways under Austria's fair skin. He's too much like the Empire, before Europe took a shift toward this new era of science and reason for Austria not to feel that stir inside him, and yet he's too much like Prussia for Austria to ever forget that the Empire, his empire, is dead. Maybe Hungary should help him understand what's happening right now. She feels like she has to.
"Don't be sorry. That's the way it has always been."
They don't say more, walk in silence, Hungary looking at the sun that announces a nice summer over Vienna. Germany seems to be engrossed in profound reflections, as if Hungary's words were the most undecipherable hieroglyphs. They head back to Schönbrunn after a while, and Germany's steps grow more military as they approach the castle, knowing that he'll be facing his brother once again. The same nauseating obedience to Prussia flows from his pores once again. He can't see how sick it makes Hungary, but once again, it's most probably a good thing for his to be a tiny little bit ignorant of whatever his happening backstage.
They eat together as hosts and guests should, With the four of them over the table, Austria seems remarkably easy between Germany and Prussia, even though Hungary knows from the way he moves his neck that Prussia left traces of his passage over his body. He still avoids to look at Germany, still makes small, fancy talk in that singing accent of him that could have been endearing if Hungary hadn't been so sick of hearing it. German still feel strange on her lips when she adds little bits to the conversation. Prussia isn't mannered, has never been, but it's mainly because it pisses Austria so much that he does that.
"How is Bavaria ?" Austria dares to ask, and Prussia gives him an empty look, It's Germany that answers the question swiftly, with that blind, trusting ignorance that characterise him.
Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (3c/3)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-13 10:43 am (UTC)(link)Austria makes a spiritual comment about Bavaria's ever-changing mood and affections, and Prussia snorts very loudly. He doesn't say anything vulgar, though, and that alone surprises Hungary very much.
"Maybe we'll go visit him on the way back, won't we Germany ?"
Germany nods a powerful, convinced nod, and it's in that kind of moments that it shows the most, how ridiculously young he is. It always takes a century to truly understand the ways of humans and their games of war and peace.
They don't talk about how Prussia now wants to take over the world and how Austria would give everything to have Germany dead and the Empire back. There's nothing positive that could ever come out of something like this, and Prussia seems to want to keep Germany in that blissful ignorance he's in. Austria and Hungary aren't in the mood or a position to object. Germany talks a bit about Paris and the rest under Prussia's request, and it makes Austria's eyes shine with a thin shade of anger.
Sometimes, Prussia's hand lingers a bit too long under the table and Hungary tries not to show her amusement on her face. Austria's glances do the work to keep her from rising from her seat and head to her rooms as fast as she can. It's all too amusing, and there's this revengeful warmth in his chest that spreads to her whole body as she thinks of Austria breaking under Prussia's touch. It's not much but he suffers, and it's the best she'll get.
That night, she writes to Poland, a long letter of longing, and she remembers the better days, the colour of his blond hair in the sun. There aren't enough pretty words in German to make him understand the extent of her feelings, how she wishes that Russia's hands and Austria's words hadn't broken her into submission. There aren't enough words in German but Poland has never learned Hungarian, probably never will. There's the sound of ink against paper and she realises that she should have gotten herself a room closer to Austria's, only to hear his muffled breathing as Prussia uses him as a victor does, the way Austria never got himself to use her, leaving bruises of words over her body.
Maybe she's terrible for thinking those things. Maybe things could have been different and choices right, and now she could be free, had Austria chosen the right words or Russia hadn't beaten rebellion out of her senseless. Poland doesn't need to know about the demons hiding into the corners of her soul. Only Austria ever sees those, because she can't help it, really, and he brings out the worst out of her, even more than Prussia or Turkey or any of the others. That's how they work, nowadays, and the Empress still doesn't eat and the Emperor still has this underlying hardness in his eyes whenever he speaks to Hungary.
When she wets her fingers and pinches the candle on her small wooden desk off, she can't help but to think of Germany and of the terrible things are waiting for him when he'll finally wake up and see things for what they are. France is a time bomb waiting to blow up, even Hungary, who doesn't take care of diplomacy, knows it. Prussia will break his beloved brother just as how he broke every weapon he ever used, at one point or another. Hungary can feel it in her gut that when he does, it'll somehow be Austria's fault.
Author note
(Anonymous) 2013-05-13 10:48 am (UTC)(link)Re: Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (3c/3)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-14 12:04 am (UTC)(link)Author here !
(Anonymous) 2013-05-14 02:13 pm (UTC)(link)It's mainly subtext and I didn't feel like pulling a Victor Hugo and write a complete Author Tract (It's fanfiction, so yeah, not a place to write an essay...) but I wanted to contrast the vision Bismarck's Prussia (I know he's not Kaiser, but he's the mastermind here, sorry House of Hohenzollern.) and Franz-Joseph's Austria-Hungary had of what should be a country. On one side, you have the German Empire led by Prussia, Bismarck's "Kleindeutschland" centered around protestant Prussia that comprises people that more or less share the same language and culture. On the other side, you've got the multicultural danubian Monarchy, that's centered around a common monarch (sexy, sexy neo-absolutism) that got its ass kicked out of the German nation in the Austro-Prussian War because it liked the idea of a "Großdeutschland" ressembling the Holy Roman Empire. (Also Bismarck. Never forget Bismarck.)
So right now, they're in 1871-1872, the German Empire just got proclaimed after kicking France's ass, Prussia sort of wants to rub it in Austria's face that he's on the top of the world right now and Austria sort of still feels angry about having to share his power with Hungary and marry her. But Realpolitik; Prussia's new nemesis isn't Austria, it's France, and he won't do the usual "I kicked your ass, give me everything now" people do, chosing instead to be a bit more subtle in making him his bitch (as in having him as an ally or neutral in case the German Empire gets in a war, with France, most probably). Austria accepts the idea of a German Empire without him passively, becomes Prussia's ally in the Triplice later on, turns toward the Balkans because he can't go West anymore. The thing is that the idea of "one nation = one country" is kind of terrible for the Hapsburgs (and Austria), given that they have a lot of nations in one political entity. The worst part is that, since the marriage sort of gave Hungary a bit of freedom on smaller matters, the other nationalities want the same. Also, Hungary's growing influence in the empire makes her a bit bossy around the other nationalities, to which she imposes her own culture and political system the same way Austria did before that.
Then stuff happens and WWI and YEAH I'M RAMBLING. Anyway, A!A is ridiculously happy right now that someone got a bit of the historical subtext and hopes that the story is still enjoyable without having to search Wikipedia for history stuff or anything. (I'm a total nerd for 19th century politics, but I understand how most people find it really boring.)
Talking about Wikipedia, some more stuff, if anybody is interested:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/German_question
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magyarisation
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-05-15 10:08 am (UTC)(link)About the so called "magyarization", it is a bit of a more complex problem, and just the article you linked is not showing all the sides to it. Laws were in place to protect nationalities, but they were not acted on the same way at different places, and often the differences were due to the different views and cultures of the nationalities. For example the croatians were part of the Hungarian kingdom as a partly autonomous kingdom since around the 1100s or something, and quite different to almost all other nationalities in the kingdom, the croations had their own nobles and intellectuals. In other nationalities, like slovaks and romanians, they were almost exclusively low-social status people to begin with (to better understand it as well, a lot of different nationalities moved into the Hungarian kingdom after certain wars decreased the population on certain areas, but people moving in were mainly very common, low-born people, so they were not bringing nobles etc with them), and had little say in politics. With time, they began to get intellectuals who could speak up for them, but quite critically, politics at the time were controlled by nobles, and with little to none representation from certain nationalities, their issues were harder to represent. I mean back then, the parliament was almost entirely composed of nobles, at least the high, decision making class of them, so nationalities without them would be sorely under-represented.
Also as I think there were differences in attitude as well. Like the german and jewish nationalities inside Hungary were willing to identify with being part of a Hungarian nation, and working with the system, instead of going against it. On the other hand, Romanians for example had a much more negative attitude towards Hungarian national identity, and felt that it threatened their own national identity, and as the more they reflected their negative attitude, the more the system pushed down on them. Also there are some post-trianon political considerations as to why some nations try to enlarge those Austro-Hungarian times policies, and may want to show them in a skewed light. The Slovaks are a pretty extreme example, where they even argue that they were physically aggressively oppressed even, citing events that are not very realistic representations (like the massacre, where the shooting was ordered by ethnic slovaks). It's a very complicated problem, that is not necessarily properly represented even or especially on wikipedia. There are cases when wikipedia is not necessarily the best to trust. Oh well, I need to get back to studying!
Re: Der Totentanz der Mächtigen (3c/3)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-15 04:26 pm (UTC)(link)I... wow.
This is excellent- your characters are so believable, and I actually really love this time period a lot, and I just. Wow.
(Also, your Germany hurts my soul (in a good way!)- he's so naive and earnest and you know the (first half of the) coming century is just going to beat it out of him really brutally and just ouch.)
OP here
(Anonymous) 2013-05-11 03:30 pm (UTC)(link)I do agree with other anons that Austria's and Hungary's relationship nowadays is a lot more mellow, but I really miss reading stuff where their "marriage" is portrayed a bit more realistically (it was called historically the Compromise for a reason)! And this was awesome. I think you really got Austria's personality well. I don't think that outright rape would fit his personality, but showing dominance by fear and emotional control is really cool, and maybe even darker as well. Hungary is quite a physical person, and she might even deal better with physical oppression and hurt much better, than emotional. Austria is probably clever enough to realize that.
Also bonus points for the Poland references :) I have this head-cannon that the 1848 fight for freedom against Austria was partly because of Poland fuelling Hungary's feelings during a heated, secret affair. It is historical fact that after the failed 1830 Polish independence war against the Hapsburgs lots of Polish rebels took refugee in Hungary. Hapsburg officials initially tried to hunt them down, but Hungarians not only hid them well, but protested so much that the Hapsburg gave up, after which the Polish refugees could move around in Hungary completely freely and publicly, virtually under the nose of the Hapsburg. I'm sure that these Polish people did have some part in inspiring Hungarians to fight for independence, not to mention the several thousands of Polish soldiers actually fighting very successfully in the war. So yeah, thank you very much for adding that bonus.
Also sorry for replying so late, I don't come here very often, but your fill made me very very happy! Thank you very much!