❝she finally met a man who's going to put her first❞
centralized | axis powers hetalia | 1300 words | turkey ; hungary ; austria | g |
in which hungary and turkey meet again as central powers during world war i.
written for linguini
Centralized
“We gained another ally today,” Roderich tells her primly, his mouth pursed into a thin line.
“Oh?” For weeks, the news has been sparse and discouraging; this latest tidbit is the best thing she’s heard in ages. So Elizaveta sets aside her gun and turns to her husband. “May I ask who it is?”
For all that they are equals, now, she still defers to him about most things. She keeps her tone carefully polite, and these days, with war all around them, she counts her duty to remain cheerful, as well. Because he’s dealing with too much. Roderich is the strategist and the diplomat; the father and the mentor. Ludwig is still untried as a nation, so even though all eyes are on him, Roderich is pulling his share of the strings.
“Your old friend,” Roderich murmurs tightly. “Remember your former empire?”
Elizaveta’s eyes widen as Roderich’s words sink in. “Sadiq?” she asks disbelievingly. “The Ottoman Empire allied with us?”
“Apparently it was either us or Ivan, and Sadiq didn’t like his chances with the latter,” Roderich says, the first hints of mirth leaking into his voice. “Who knew that ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ really worked?”
“I don’t know if I’d call him a friend,” Elizaveta mutters tartly, hands settling on her hips. Old memories come back, unbidden, so she is forced to remember that before joining the Austrian Empire, she was a member of the Ottoman one. It was Roderich who liberated her from Sadiq, but apparently that chapter of her life isn’t quite closed, yet.
“Try to be cordial,” Roderich suggests, gently brushing the hair back from her cheek and kissing her gently on the brow. “We need to keep what allies we manage to get.”
“Of course I’ll be cordial,” Elizaveta scoffs. “What, you think I’m going to hit him, or something?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
- - -
He’s grown bored of sitting around in Berlin. It’s a nice enough city, he supposes, but Ludwig has turned out to be even dryer than he initially anticipated. So Sadiq shooed him and his annoying brother away as soon as the treaty was signed, and is now leaning back on one of the Germans’ straight-backed chairs, staring at the ceiling.
“If you’re looking for any crooked lines, you won’t find them. Ludwig is very exact.”
The voice startles Sadiq so much that he nearly falls out of his chair. But he recovers quickly enough, allowing the front legs of the chair to slam against the ground at the same moment that he flashes a brash smile and smoothes back his hair.
“You know, they told me you were here, Princess, but I didn’t quite believe it.”
For the first time in months, she has exchanged her military uniform for a simple, emerald green dress. Her long hair is combed back from her face, revealing bright but wary eyes. She crosses her arms over her chest and pops one hip, looking him up and down.
“Why’s that? You can’t find it hard to believe that I’m on a battlefield.”
“Oh, I can see you as a warrior,” Sadiq concedes with a laugh. “It’s thinking of you as a housewife that throws me.”
Elizaveta blushes, glancing involuntarily down at the golden band on her left hand. “I may be a wife, but I can still kick your ass.”
“Such language,” Sadiq tuts. “Come now, I raised you better than that, Princess.”
“You didn’t raise me!” Elizaveta’s indignant wail sounds so prepubescent that she blushes even deeper. She clears her throat, continuing in more dulcet tones, “I mean, well, you didn’t.”
Sadiq throws back his head and laughs delightedly. “Whatever you say,” he replies with a shrug.
“God, now you’re humoring me!”
“Call it want you want,” Sadiq says, smirking. He gets up from his seat and meanders over to her, throwing one arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “It’s good to see you, y’know. I’m glad you’re doing well.”
“As well as can be expected,” Elizaveta agrees, elbowing him playfully in the ribs, “considering we’re in the middle of ‘the Great War’, and all.”
- - -
On nights when Roderich is away, he provides the warm presence she needs beside her. By unspoken consent, they never go further than is proper. He may wrap his arms around her, or kiss her cheeks, but he never crosses the line. She snarks and snarls at him, pushing away his advances and scoffing at his confidence. But his presence abates her fears and calms her temper all the same.
Tonight, they are in Budapest. He hasn’t been to the city in centuries, but he isn’t sight-seeing now. They are standing together on the balcony of the Hungarian capitol, looking out at the city lit by sunset.
“You didn’t invite me to your wedding,” Sadiq says, accusingly, with a pout.
“I didn’t think of it,” she admits, laughing. “And even if I had, it probably wouldn’t have been the best idea.”
“Why’s that?” he demands. “I’m always the life of any party.”
“In the worst way,” she mutters under her breath. Out loud, she says, “I already had to deal with Roderich as a groom with Gilbert as the best man. You would have complicated things, Sadiq.”
“So, was Gilbert his best man, or yours?”
“You know, I’ll never be sure.” They both laugh, at that, and then eventually lapse into silence.
“Fine,” Sadiq growls at length. “But just to let you know, when I get married, you’re not invited.”
Elizaveta spits out the drink she’s been sipping. “Excuse me?” she says haughtily. “And just who are you planning on marrying, Sadiq?”
“A lovely nation, really,” Sadiq continues sarcastically. “Beautiful green eyes and curly brown hair. I’m completely head over heels.”
Elizaveta automatically assumes one thing, and doesn’t consider the alternatives long enough to blush.
- - -
She misses the ring on her finger more than she’ll ever admit. True, it was her decision to end it, and she doesn’t regret that, but at the moment she’s having a hard time detangling her emotions as a woman from her duties as a nation. So she goes to the person who doesn’t see her as either; to the man who once thought she was a boy and still persists in calling her “Magyar.”
He’s drinking coffee at his kitchen table, his hands clenched thoughtfully around the mug while he mulls something over. As always, he barely even notices as she enters.
“So,” she murmurs quietly, “need some company?”
He takes one look at her face and nods. She’s fighting back tears, but it’s one fight she can’t win. He only has to pass her a mug of coffee, and she only has to take one sip, and suddenly she’s sobbing, covering her face in her hands.
After she’s cried it out, long and hard, he reaches around the table to pat her on the shoulder. “It’s all right, Sevgililerine, it’ll be ok.”
She turns, and buries her face in his chest and he gently wraps his arms around her.
“It’s all my fault,” she says in a hollow voice. “If I’d been a better nation, if I could’ve kept better balance, I wouldn’t have had to betray him like that…”
“No,” Sadiq says, softly but firmly. “You did alright, Princess. You did right.”
She starts to protest again, but he presses one finger to her lips. “You know what? I think you’re just frightened. Scared that you don’t have the balls to be a nation on your own.”
Suddenly, sadness turns to indignant anger. “Hey! I may not be an empire anymore, but neither are you, I notice!”
He shrugs lackadaisically as she wraps her arms tightly around him, but when she next looks but, he can see her smiling through her tears.
→ Both the Ottoman Empire and the Austro-Hungarian Empire were Central Powers during World War I. Their other allies included the German Empire, Bulgaria, and Italy for a time. At the war’s end, both Empires were dissolved.
in which hungary and turkey meet again as central powers during world war i.
written for linguini
Centralized
“We gained another ally today,” Roderich tells her primly, his mouth pursed into a thin line.
“Oh?” For weeks, the news has been sparse and discouraging; this latest tidbit is the best thing she’s heard in ages. So Elizaveta sets aside her gun and turns to her husband. “May I ask who it is?”
For all that they are equals, now, she still defers to him about most things. She keeps her tone carefully polite, and these days, with war all around them, she counts her duty to remain cheerful, as well. Because he’s dealing with too much. Roderich is the strategist and the diplomat; the father and the mentor. Ludwig is still untried as a nation, so even though all eyes are on him, Roderich is pulling his share of the strings.
“Your old friend,” Roderich murmurs tightly. “Remember your former empire?”
Elizaveta’s eyes widen as Roderich’s words sink in. “Sadiq?” she asks disbelievingly. “The Ottoman Empire allied with us?”
“Apparently it was either us or Ivan, and Sadiq didn’t like his chances with the latter,” Roderich says, the first hints of mirth leaking into his voice. “Who knew that ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ really worked?”
“I don’t know if I’d call him a friend,” Elizaveta mutters tartly, hands settling on her hips. Old memories come back, unbidden, so she is forced to remember that before joining the Austrian Empire, she was a member of the Ottoman one. It was Roderich who liberated her from Sadiq, but apparently that chapter of her life isn’t quite closed, yet.
“Try to be cordial,” Roderich suggests, gently brushing the hair back from her cheek and kissing her gently on the brow. “We need to keep what allies we manage to get.”
“Of course I’ll be cordial,” Elizaveta scoffs. “What, you think I’m going to hit him, or something?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
- - -
He’s grown bored of sitting around in Berlin. It’s a nice enough city, he supposes, but Ludwig has turned out to be even dryer than he initially anticipated. So Sadiq shooed him and his annoying brother away as soon as the treaty was signed, and is now leaning back on one of the Germans’ straight-backed chairs, staring at the ceiling.
“If you’re looking for any crooked lines, you won’t find them. Ludwig is very exact.”
The voice startles Sadiq so much that he nearly falls out of his chair. But he recovers quickly enough, allowing the front legs of the chair to slam against the ground at the same moment that he flashes a brash smile and smoothes back his hair.
“You know, they told me you were here, Princess, but I didn’t quite believe it.”
For the first time in months, she has exchanged her military uniform for a simple, emerald green dress. Her long hair is combed back from her face, revealing bright but wary eyes. She crosses her arms over her chest and pops one hip, looking him up and down.
“Why’s that? You can’t find it hard to believe that I’m on a battlefield.”
“Oh, I can see you as a warrior,” Sadiq concedes with a laugh. “It’s thinking of you as a housewife that throws me.”
Elizaveta blushes, glancing involuntarily down at the golden band on her left hand. “I may be a wife, but I can still kick your ass.”
“Such language,” Sadiq tuts. “Come now, I raised you better than that, Princess.”
“You didn’t raise me!” Elizaveta’s indignant wail sounds so prepubescent that she blushes even deeper. She clears her throat, continuing in more dulcet tones, “I mean, well, you didn’t.”
Sadiq throws back his head and laughs delightedly. “Whatever you say,” he replies with a shrug.
“God, now you’re humoring me!”
“Call it want you want,” Sadiq says, smirking. He gets up from his seat and meanders over to her, throwing one arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “It’s good to see you, y’know. I’m glad you’re doing well.”
“As well as can be expected,” Elizaveta agrees, elbowing him playfully in the ribs, “considering we’re in the middle of ‘the Great War’, and all.”
- - -
On nights when Roderich is away, he provides the warm presence she needs beside her. By unspoken consent, they never go further than is proper. He may wrap his arms around her, or kiss her cheeks, but he never crosses the line. She snarks and snarls at him, pushing away his advances and scoffing at his confidence. But his presence abates her fears and calms her temper all the same.
Tonight, they are in Budapest. He hasn’t been to the city in centuries, but he isn’t sight-seeing now. They are standing together on the balcony of the Hungarian capitol, looking out at the city lit by sunset.
“You didn’t invite me to your wedding,” Sadiq says, accusingly, with a pout.
“I didn’t think of it,” she admits, laughing. “And even if I had, it probably wouldn’t have been the best idea.”
“Why’s that?” he demands. “I’m always the life of any party.”
“In the worst way,” she mutters under her breath. Out loud, she says, “I already had to deal with Roderich as a groom with Gilbert as the best man. You would have complicated things, Sadiq.”
“So, was Gilbert his best man, or yours?”
“You know, I’ll never be sure.” They both laugh, at that, and then eventually lapse into silence.
“Fine,” Sadiq growls at length. “But just to let you know, when I get married, you’re not invited.”
Elizaveta spits out the drink she’s been sipping. “Excuse me?” she says haughtily. “And just who are you planning on marrying, Sadiq?”
“A lovely nation, really,” Sadiq continues sarcastically. “Beautiful green eyes and curly brown hair. I’m completely head over heels.”
Elizaveta automatically assumes one thing, and doesn’t consider the alternatives long enough to blush.
- - -
She misses the ring on her finger more than she’ll ever admit. True, it was her decision to end it, and she doesn’t regret that, but at the moment she’s having a hard time detangling her emotions as a woman from her duties as a nation. So she goes to the person who doesn’t see her as either; to the man who once thought she was a boy and still persists in calling her “Magyar.”
He’s drinking coffee at his kitchen table, his hands clenched thoughtfully around the mug while he mulls something over. As always, he barely even notices as she enters.
“So,” she murmurs quietly, “need some company?”
He takes one look at her face and nods. She’s fighting back tears, but it’s one fight she can’t win. He only has to pass her a mug of coffee, and she only has to take one sip, and suddenly she’s sobbing, covering her face in her hands.
After she’s cried it out, long and hard, he reaches around the table to pat her on the shoulder. “It’s all right, Sevgililerine, it’ll be ok.”
She turns, and buries her face in his chest and he gently wraps his arms around her.
“It’s all my fault,” she says in a hollow voice. “If I’d been a better nation, if I could’ve kept better balance, I wouldn’t have had to betray him like that…”
“No,” Sadiq says, softly but firmly. “You did alright, Princess. You did right.”
She starts to protest again, but he presses one finger to her lips. “You know what? I think you’re just frightened. Scared that you don’t have the balls to be a nation on your own.”
Suddenly, sadness turns to indignant anger. “Hey! I may not be an empire anymore, but neither are you, I notice!”
He shrugs lackadaisically as she wraps her arms tightly around him, but when she next looks but, he can see her smiling through her tears.
→ Both the Ottoman Empire and the Austro-Hungarian Empire were Central Powers during World War I. Their other allies included the German Empire, Bulgaria, and Italy for a time. At the war’s end, both Empires were dissolved.