Children of Two Worlds: 1983 Doomsday/RDNA-verse

Children of Two Worlds: Or a 1983 Doomsday and RDNA-verse Tale through the Nations' Eyes

Somewhere in the Sopron Frontier. 2013.

This can't be happening, Francesca thought, loosening the collar on her dress uniform as her free hand grasped onto to a tree for support. Not again! On most any other occasion, the embodiment of New Austria would have reacted with the utmost stoicism. This time was an exception.

Her mind frantically raced, trying to make sense of what was going on, let alone where she was. One minute, she was preparing for a meeting with Loyalist Canada and the other Free Nations. Then here she was. Her eyes darted here and there, a growing sense of dread filling her as she recognized the landscape. For all she knew, she might very well be stepping on her adoptive parents’ remains. This can’t be happening! THIS ISN’T…NEIN! Hold it together…

It took much of the embodiment of New Austria’s willpower to restrain herself. Remembering the lessons her father taught her all those years ago, she took a moment to breathe and calm down. Carefully, she tried getting a better look at her surroundings. It soon became clear however that this wasn’t one of her interminable nightmares.

What she sensed instead seemed at once unusual yet errily familiar. This is not my world. From the hills, woodlands and even some of the buidings in the distance, the landscape seemed straight out from her memories of the Displacement just a couple of years earlier, if not the late Crownlands themselves. Yet she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something horrible had happened here. A hint of grime and atomic winter seemed to cover most everything, the faint echoes of soldiers filling the air. Perhaps the devil really was in the details. Mein Gott. What have I gotten myself into this time?!

Straining to stay focused, Francesca turned towards a lone, simple-looking cottage in the distance. But just as she was about to walk towards it, the Nation noticed a young girl in an peculiar country dress and worn-out coat walking down the same small road she was on. As the child drew closer however, New Austria sensed that she wasn’t simply any ordinary local. Perhaps some help may be warranted.

“Entschuldigung Sie!” she called out. “My sincerest apologies, but I seem to have gotten lost. Would you kindly tell me where I am?”

To the Nation’s surprise, the girl answered back in fluent if accented Austrian German. “Why, you’re in the Alpine Confederation, of course! Though if you like, you could stay over by that house for now. I’m actually heading there myself!”

Francesca found it harder to contain her surprise the more she took in the sight in front of her. The child, with her pale skin and worn-out clothes seemed like someone out of a wasteland. Yet she also had the same frame as the Nation’s late father, and in many ways resembled a younger version of her mother, right down to her green eyes. Don’t tell me...

“Is something wrong?” the girl asked innocently, somehow sliding smoothly into Hungarian. “I’m not sure why, but it’s like you look familiar somehow.” She suddenly blushed as she seemed to remember something. “I’m sorry. My name’s Julia, by the way. Well, it’s the Sopron Frontier Territory actually, but you don’t have to call me that.”

The Nation managed a soft, frail smile as she bowed. “A pleasure to meet you. I am the Royal Dominion of New Austria. But bitte, call me Francesca. Francesca Edelstein-Hedervary.”

A glimmer appeared in the girl’s eyes. “Miau! That’s my last name too!”

It took a good deal of self-restraint for Francesca to hold back the feelings swelling inside her. Still, the Nation managed a sigh. I really must be losing it now. “Would you imagine that?”

Julia grinned before taking her hand. “Now then, Újdonság Ausztria! Please follow me!”

-0-

It wasn’t all that common for Sopron to meet other Nations outside her family. Uncle Prussia from far-off Berlin, Uncle Polska and even her half-brother Partium from across the wastes were about as close to “international relations” as she got. Still, as she shared a small plate of Dobos torte and Sachertorte with her new guest, the Survivor-Nation couldn’t help but grow more curious.

“These are just wonderful!” Francesca nodded warmly as she took another bite, seemingly savoring each bite. “Who made these?”

“Why, Mama Magyarország and Papa Auztria of course! Admittedly, I’m still learning,” she replied with a smile, one that faded as she noticed a look of something in her guest’s eyes. She wasn’t quite sure if it was shock, sadness or even trauma. It lasted for a moment however before it was replaced with a mask of calm.

“Beg my pardon.” The Nation calling herself New Austria sighed apologetically even as she forced herself to finish the rest of her meal. “It has been too long since I’ve had their cooking. I almost forgot how much they loved making these.”

“How did you know them, Fraulein? You’re Lateinamerikaner, right?” Her guest really did seem very strange. In addition to an old-fashioned uniform, she had light tanned skin and resembled that “Mexico” person Uncle Vash talked about a while back. Yet she spoke the same languages Julia herself used. Even the way she composed herself reminded the Survivor-Nation of her father.

“N-Nein,” she chuckled, her face still managing a forced grin. “It is rather complicated. But where I’m from, your – well, our parents adopted me. Raised me as both a country and daughter. Until…until…” Tears started welling up from Francesca’s eyes as her gaze turned towards the landscape outside the window. “I-I wouldn’t want to burden you with the details. But a horrible Terror fell upon this land and many others a long time ago. Just being here brings back so much.”

Almost out of impulse, Julia reached out to hold her hand. While she wasn’t sure what compelled her to do that. To her welcome surprise the startled Nation didn’t turn her away. “Do you miss them?” she asked gently. “You must have really loved them.”

New Austria nodded, chuckling bitterly. “After so long, I never really got over losing them. Those – fools wouldn’t let me. I suppose it’s in part my fault as well. But one day, I’ll make them all pay the price of crossing me and them, so help me…”

“Then don’t let those bullies win,” Sopron interrupted her. She noticed a firm sense of determination in her guest's eyes, much like her mother. But there was also an emptiness similar to the one that threatened to consume her back in those dark years after Doomsday. They’re not going to take you too! she quietly vowed. Still, the Survivor-Nation smiled. “I’m sure you’ll see Mama and Papa again.  But I don’t think they’d want you to suffer or even become like those fiends. So just hang on, alright Große Schwester?”

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them as the Survivor-Nation stared at her. Then, ever so slowly, she noticed the stunned, somber look on the Nation’s face turn into a faint yet warm smile. Francesca’s eyes however soon wandered once more towards the window with growing surprise. Curious, Sopron turned to her own delight to find her bespectacled father in his old walking suit heading towards the house.  Alongside him was a familiar lady in an overcoat covering an embroidered country dress, a flower sitting snugly in her hair.

“Oh Gott…Istenem…” She heard the Nation whisper, her voice sounding more and more airy. To Julia’s shock, she felt the Nation’s hands slipping away.  “At least…I got to see them once more…Danke…”

By the time the Survivor-Nation turned back, there was no one else there. It was almost as if she had been talking to a ghost. For a second as she got up, a part of her wondered whether it was some daydream or if that emptiness was toying with her. Still, she smiled.

“You’re welcome, Francesca.”

The day wasn’t over yet. After all, she didn't want to keep her parents waiting.

-0-

Somewhere in the Outskirts of Montreal, Loyalist Canada. 2016.

“Can you hear me?” a voice faintly called out to her in English. “Please get up!”

Francesca jolted awake from her desk, hastily fixing her uniform and papers before noticing a young, apologetic-looking Canadian in the red dress uniform of the Royal Mounted Corps.

“Is it time already, Matthew?” the Nation asked in accented English as she rubbed her eyes. From a certain view, the Nation of Canada really did resemble his obnoxious twin and common neighbor. Though unlike the American Federation, at least he was deserving of running England's still-mighty Commonwealth.

“There’s still a bit of time before the meeting. Typical, eh?” he replied calmly if knowingly. The Assembly of the Free World's meetings always had a tendency of getting delayed, no matter where it was held. Then again, it was one of the few times when all Free Nations can stand together against the Collectivist Internationale and the shadow still cast by the Terror after all these years.  “We might find some seats before my brother...um, Francesca?”

New Austria glanced down, startled as she noticed her hands moist with teardrops. What on…  A soft smile returned to her face.  Perhaps a little encouragement really did go a long way. Now I see. Julia…Mama…Papa…just you wait! We can still win this yet!

“Is something wrong?”

“Nein, I just had a wonderful dream,” New Austria murmured almost wistfully. “Something the Reds will never take away from me…”

Matthew smiled somberly as he helped her up. “I’d like to hear that.”