[Fanfiction] My Moonlight Sonatas
Title: My Moonlight Sonatas
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters: Austria, Gilbert, Hungary
Rating: PG
Warning: Human names used.
Summary: When a terrible accident destroys the country of Austria, Roderich becomes deaf and lives rather than perish with it. With everything that he lived for gone from his life, Gilbert and Elizaveta try to comfort him.
A De!Anon from the APH-K Meme. It's pretty fun to dig through and find some more serious prompts in there...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Roderich heard nothing as Austria burned.
He never heard the fires that flared his fever.
Never heard the scampering of feet as his people fled.
The screams of his people fell on deaf ears.
Even those from his own chest.
The day Austria burned, the gods cursed him with deafness.
To him, it was a fate worse than death...
Months had passed since that day. Roderich sat unmoving, staring at the grand piano before him. He had no idea how long he had sat there. No idea when he last moved. Last changed his clothes. Last bathed. Last ate. Last played. Last did anything.
Nowadays, he only moved when Elizaveta forced him to.
She would come into the room and say something to him. But he would simply stare at her the whole time. He saw her lips move, her hands clench and unclench. Her hair bristle with fury, and then her eyes water. More often than not, she would just leave the room then - covering her face as she went.
He wouldn’t see her for a few days after that.
In those days, Gilbert often stopped by.
The first day he had come, Gilbert had acted like usual. Sure, Roderich couldn’t hear the irritating nation, but his ego annoyed him nonetheless. After an hour or so, Gilbert had gotten up, ruffled his hair, and left.
When the Prussian had returned the next week to find the brown locks just as tangled as he had left them, he covered his mouth and left the house immediately. Roderich assumed he was going to be sick from the look of pain on his face.
The next day Gilbert sent one of his chicks to stay with Roderich.
Elizaveta took it home with her four days later, the poor creature wasting away from starvation.
It was not the only one.
It wasn’t until nearly three months after the death of Austria that both Elizaveta and Gilbert visited him on the same day.
For some time, the two merely sat in his living room, greeting the spiders and staring at blurred reflections in the silverware. When he saw Gilbert walk out of the house, and Elizaveta scurry out of the room, presumably to cook dinner for herself, Roderich turned back to the piano, already preparing himself for another sleepless, silent night.
How shocked he was to see Gilbert return with firewood, and Elizaveta return from the kitchen empty handed. He could only watch as Gilbert stocked and lit the fireplace in the music room and Elizaveta closed all the doors.
It was very likely he yelped when he felt a pair of arms snake around his thin form and lift him up into the air. He didn’t travel far, however, as he was unceremoniously dropped onto the back of the piano, successfully banging his head against the hard wood and watching his vision fade in and out for a few seconds.
When it adjusted, he immediately noticed a weight on his hips and that there were two bright, piercing blood-red eyes boring into his blood-shot, baggy, black-rimmed ones. He tried his best to protest and shove the nation off of him, only to have said nation laugh at his feeble attempts. Instead, he tried to turn himself this way and that, trying to grab a glimpse of his ex-wife. He found her seated at the piano bench, shuffling some worn papers and situating herself. He tried to call out to her, to ask what is going on, when she slowly began to play.
Roderich’s body immediately stiffened while his arms fell to his sides.
With every note. Every stroke of the key, the piano vibrated.
He could feel the notes coursing through the old wood of the grand piano. And he recognized the sensation.
He felt it whenever he played the piano. A tingling sensation that felt as weak as a static shock, but as pronounced as a thunderbolt.
He knew these feelings.
They were the notes.
The notes he knew as well as himself. The individual hammerings that he once used to fill his house with breath and life. Yes, he knew these notes. Not only by sound, but by touch.
Slowly, he grazed the pads of his fingertips across the polished surface, the sensitive nerves picking up even the gentlest buzzes of the high notes. He let his eyes fall shut and focused entirely on what he was feeling.
Once again, the music of Chopin filled the Austrian’s house.
It was nightfall before Elizaveta could no longer remember any songs to play. By then, Roderich’s eyes were drooping and he was struggling to stay awake. Gilbert had long since retired to the floor, snoozing lightly against a piano leg.
A blink and he is aware of a new sensation.
He feels something soft and plush under his head, and something warm and heavy draped over his body. Groggy eyes scan the room, just in time to see a flash of white round the corner.
A weak mumble and reach of the hand and it seems Gilbert has materialized beside him.
He feels a steady hand on his head, calmly petting it in a rare act of kindness from the usually boorish nation. He feels tears prick at his dry eyes, and before he knows it, there are two salty streams running from them. He feels the hand retract and he unconsciously curls in on himself.
What has he done to deserve their love?
It takes him a few seconds to realize the piano is gently buzzing with life.
He lifts his eyes to see Gilbert at the piano bench, his eyes shut fast in concentration as he plays a familiar melody. A happy smile graces foreign lips.
And in the silver gloom of the room, the Moonlight’s Sonata lulls the Austrian to sleep.
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters: Austria, Gilbert, Hungary
Rating: PG
Warning: Human names used.
Summary: When a terrible accident destroys the country of Austria, Roderich becomes deaf and lives rather than perish with it. With everything that he lived for gone from his life, Gilbert and Elizaveta try to comfort him.
A De!Anon from the APH-K Meme. It's pretty fun to dig through and find some more serious prompts in there...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Roderich heard nothing as Austria burned.
He never heard the fires that flared his fever.
Never heard the scampering of feet as his people fled.
The screams of his people fell on deaf ears.
Even those from his own chest.
The day Austria burned, the gods cursed him with deafness.
To him, it was a fate worse than death...
Months had passed since that day. Roderich sat unmoving, staring at the grand piano before him. He had no idea how long he had sat there. No idea when he last moved. Last changed his clothes. Last bathed. Last ate. Last played. Last did anything.
Nowadays, he only moved when Elizaveta forced him to.
She would come into the room and say something to him. But he would simply stare at her the whole time. He saw her lips move, her hands clench and unclench. Her hair bristle with fury, and then her eyes water. More often than not, she would just leave the room then - covering her face as she went.
He wouldn’t see her for a few days after that.
In those days, Gilbert often stopped by.
The first day he had come, Gilbert had acted like usual. Sure, Roderich couldn’t hear the irritating nation, but his ego annoyed him nonetheless. After an hour or so, Gilbert had gotten up, ruffled his hair, and left.
When the Prussian had returned the next week to find the brown locks just as tangled as he had left them, he covered his mouth and left the house immediately. Roderich assumed he was going to be sick from the look of pain on his face.
The next day Gilbert sent one of his chicks to stay with Roderich.
Elizaveta took it home with her four days later, the poor creature wasting away from starvation.
It was not the only one.
It wasn’t until nearly three months after the death of Austria that both Elizaveta and Gilbert visited him on the same day.
For some time, the two merely sat in his living room, greeting the spiders and staring at blurred reflections in the silverware. When he saw Gilbert walk out of the house, and Elizaveta scurry out of the room, presumably to cook dinner for herself, Roderich turned back to the piano, already preparing himself for another sleepless, silent night.
How shocked he was to see Gilbert return with firewood, and Elizaveta return from the kitchen empty handed. He could only watch as Gilbert stocked and lit the fireplace in the music room and Elizaveta closed all the doors.
It was very likely he yelped when he felt a pair of arms snake around his thin form and lift him up into the air. He didn’t travel far, however, as he was unceremoniously dropped onto the back of the piano, successfully banging his head against the hard wood and watching his vision fade in and out for a few seconds.
When it adjusted, he immediately noticed a weight on his hips and that there were two bright, piercing blood-red eyes boring into his blood-shot, baggy, black-rimmed ones. He tried his best to protest and shove the nation off of him, only to have said nation laugh at his feeble attempts. Instead, he tried to turn himself this way and that, trying to grab a glimpse of his ex-wife. He found her seated at the piano bench, shuffling some worn papers and situating herself. He tried to call out to her, to ask what is going on, when she slowly began to play.
Roderich’s body immediately stiffened while his arms fell to his sides.
With every note. Every stroke of the key, the piano vibrated.
He could feel the notes coursing through the old wood of the grand piano. And he recognized the sensation.
He felt it whenever he played the piano. A tingling sensation that felt as weak as a static shock, but as pronounced as a thunderbolt.
He knew these feelings.
They were the notes.
The notes he knew as well as himself. The individual hammerings that he once used to fill his house with breath and life. Yes, he knew these notes. Not only by sound, but by touch.
Slowly, he grazed the pads of his fingertips across the polished surface, the sensitive nerves picking up even the gentlest buzzes of the high notes. He let his eyes fall shut and focused entirely on what he was feeling.
Once again, the music of Chopin filled the Austrian’s house.
It was nightfall before Elizaveta could no longer remember any songs to play. By then, Roderich’s eyes were drooping and he was struggling to stay awake. Gilbert had long since retired to the floor, snoozing lightly against a piano leg.
A blink and he is aware of a new sensation.
He feels something soft and plush under his head, and something warm and heavy draped over his body. Groggy eyes scan the room, just in time to see a flash of white round the corner.
A weak mumble and reach of the hand and it seems Gilbert has materialized beside him.
He feels a steady hand on his head, calmly petting it in a rare act of kindness from the usually boorish nation. He feels tears prick at his dry eyes, and before he knows it, there are two salty streams running from them. He feels the hand retract and he unconsciously curls in on himself.
What has he done to deserve their love?
It takes him a few seconds to realize the piano is gently buzzing with life.
He lifts his eyes to see Gilbert at the piano bench, his eyes shut fast in concentration as he plays a familiar melody. A happy smile graces foreign lips.
And in the silver gloom of the room, the Moonlight’s Sonata lulls the Austrian to sleep.