Monarchy Over the Danube RE: Interlude

Monarchy Over the Danube: an Alternate History Tale of Austria-Hungary Retold through the Nations Themselves.

-INTERLUDE-

Undisclosed location outside London, United Kingdom. 23 April 1937.

It’s been said that there are days when people really needed to be alone. Arthur Kirkland felt as if this was one of those times. It wasn't that he really expected anyone to come over. Especially not the long-haired Frenchman sitting across from him in the living room calling for his attention. Normally the blond Englishman would do anything to annoy his counterpart. But this time, his mind was focused on other things.

And I'm in no mood to play games, the embodiment of the United Kingdom groaned silently as he continued skimming half-heartedly through the latest issue of The Times before finally setting the newspaper aside. "Won't you keep your mouth shut now, frog?!”

"Mon Dieu," Francis Bonnefoy sighed in exasperation before sliding into accented English. He didn't seem so keen on playing either. "About time you noticed your one and only~"

"Well, you should be bloody happy that I invited you at all. I just happen to be having headaches going through all the reports from around my Empire when you showed up!" And he wasn’t joking either. There was another protest in India. Japan was eying Hong Kong and Singapore a bit too much for comfort. Closer to home, the civil war in Spain was getting increasingly troublesome to say the least. All while Stalin's messed up plans continued in Russia and those Nazi blokes kept pushing their schemes to make Hitler's Thousand-Year Reich a reality. Along with certain lands down the Danube…

"Then I'm sure you won't mind some other news, mon ami," the embodiment of France replied, snapping the Nation back to reality. "Like that war Austriche and Hongrie are fighting in-"

"Yes I bloody well know that you idiot!" he gritted irritably at the self-proclaimed Casanova. "I mean, those two have to be some joke, thinking they can just remarry and waltz right over to Italy's doorstep. Better those saps at least than us – or those Krauts, right?"

"Oui, but they're a joke that's making Versailles look like rubbish.” The Frenchman frowned. “I don’t like this, Arthur. They won't stop with just propping up their precious monarch or even bringing back all those lands we helped liberate from them! Merde, at this rate they're as bad as Allemagne!"

"I wouldn't quite go that far. At least they don't have swastikas and jackboots. But since you're here, you might like to look at this, you pansy."

The Englishman sighed as he took out a small envelope hidden in the newspaper and passed it on to Francis. It was still fresh from his spies but the sooner the rest of the Entente knew, the better. He watched as France opened the document, the Nation gaping in disbelief upon reading it. For a moment, Arthur wanted to just chuckle at the look on his rival's face but chose against it. He knew what it already said anyway.

"Nom de Dieu. They're – they're already at Rome?!"

England nodded. And somehow, even as he silently laughed, he was having second thoughts about those two being some pathetic excuse of a realm. Well, what could possibly happen now?

Outskirts of Sopron, Austro-Hungarian Empire. 8 June 1937.

“You know, for a minute I thought you’d forgotten about this,” Elizaveta smirked as she shared the last bottle of wine on the table across from her husband. She had already lost count of how many glasses either of them have had by that point.

“Why would I not, Liebchen?” Roderich replied, smiling with warmth that he only shared with a select few. “Were we not married on this very day?”

He was right. It’s almost exactly been 70 years since the Ausgleich made the Dual Monarchy, their marriage official. Well, the first one anyway, she added to herself as the Nation took a sip from her glass. But as much as both of them wanted to continue savoring their renewed anniversary, the outside world couldn’t be fully kept out. At least as far as the folders neatly sitting on one side of their table were concerned.

Both of them, of course had long since read the contents. Word had come in of a coup breaking out in Prague, with rumors that the Czechs in Czechoslovakia were willing to rejoin the Empire if put to a vote. If she were honest, Czechia never really was her favorite among the breakaways. Still, though she was to her own admission a tad enthusiastic with the prospect of Slovakia as well coming back to her – or rather, their – watch, it seemed as though they were moving closer to not only regaining their lost glory but achieving something new. And hopefully something more…

It was then that she remembered her.

“You are thinking about our current affairs again, ja?” she heard the Austrian ask knowingly, though with a slightly slurred lilt. Then again, most Nations tend to handle alcohol differently from mortal people, some much more than others. His eyes soon betrayed concern upon seeing her face. “It is something else, is it not? I have known you long enough to recognize that look.”

“Bocsánat,” the Nation sighed as she finished what remained of her drink. “I suppose it couldn’t be helped. Though that’s not all I’ve been thinking about lately.”

“Oh? Then bitte, what do you have in mind?”

Elizaveta blushed slightly. Perhaps it was the wine finally setting in. Or perhaps it was a desire to try again with Roderich something much more intimate than even what they did behind closed doors. Something - someone that to their quiet regret, failed back in their first union together. Even now, she found it hard to mutter their late daughter's name openly. After what happened to you...Eva...O Istenem, I hope this will succeed… Still, taking a moment to collect herself, she smiled.

“Well, Sopron’s always been known as being in the crossroads between us. So how about we take that further~”

To her welcome surprise, her husband nodded warmly, which just barely masked more base emotions. "Then Prost!"

The night – and their anniversary – was still young. And so was the future awaiting all of them.