First off, I would like to thank everyone who sent me PMs about this story. There was more than one, and the response, even three years later (especially three years later), completely floored me, and it's what eventually prompted me to continue this, though I've come to regret the idea behind this, simply because it has the potential to offend so many people, and also because I was really stupid three years ago and clearly did not think half the stuff I put in the first chapter through.

So, I'd like to apologise for any offences caused ahead of time, and thank you all, once again, for voicing your support and for taking the time to send messages asking about the story and just the amazing amount of positive feedback this weird little thing has received.

I've become exponentially shitty at writing from Austria's point of view (although I think I've always been terrible at it. It's much easier to writer as Liechtenstein or even Switzerland himself), and I'm also sorry about that, and I'm not sure what direction this story is headed in, but hopefully I'll think of something while mindlessly churning out scenes.

This chapter contains ideologically sensitive material, too much introspective thought (woes; how do write normally?), mentions of past Hungry/Austria and implied past Prussia/Austria, and includes mentions of past character death.

Divided We're Falling – Chapter 2

The house was dark when they entered, the elaborate halls still and unlit as a safety precaution. The air raids hadn't happened yet, not here, but they weren't stupid enough to think that would last forever, from either end. Even now the heads of Austria's government were struggling with pulling together the country's every resources, and Austria felt their frustration like a pulsing headache, always there, just beneath the surface. He did not have long to reflect, however, as Switzerland was quick to get Austria and Liechtenstein inside, closing the door behind him with crisp movements that spoke more than any expression or words could.

"The rooms haven't changed," he said simply, and Austria felt a faint stab of irritation at the brusque tone, though he forced himself to remember that Switzerland was likely as stressed as he—and besides, this was a marriage of convenience; he would do little expecting anything like his marriage with Hungary.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Liechtenstein shake her head, but when he turned to face her she merely smiled, hands clasped in front of her, and how she managed to look so innocent in a military uniform Austria did not know.

"I will show you, Mister Austria. Brother has changed some things, and I don't know what you remember." Her voice was soft, like her eyes, and she waited to make sure he had heard before turning and walking down the lonely hallways, devoid of life save for the two of them. Switzerland had vanished into the darkness almost immediately after speaking, and the only thing that allowed Austria to see the tiled floors in front of him was the candelabrum in Liechtenstein's hands, and the steady sound of her boots as she walked.

It had been years since he had been here. Not since his falling out with Switzerland centuries ago had they stood in each other's homes, and they had barely spoken to each other save for the few strained words that passed whenever they ran into each other. It was only Liechtenstein's strange affection and curiosity towards Austria that made Switzerland tolerate him these days, though now… now they really did not have a choice, did they?

So be it, Austria thought quietly as Liechtenstein stopped in front of a set of doors—almost carelessly elegant, as everything in Switzerland's house was, he supposed, despite the man's frugality. He could vaguely see the soft, light yellow-brown of the wood, and the simple quadrilateral design covered in gold leafing on each wall panel, old and unchanged, but well maintained, though he was quick to turn his head back to Liechtenstein when she pushed the door open, handing him the candle as he walked into the dark room.

"Brother will be around the house somewhere," she told him, but her voice drifted to him as if in a dream, and he barely heard it, moving further into the room with the stiff-backed posture Prussia had always—

Austria stopped, his grip tightening on the candelabrum, closing his eyes against the rush of memories even as he fought to push the picture of pain-filled red eyes from his mind as Prussia fell for the final time, coughing his bloody defiance to Russia as Austria and Germany retreated, his death covering their tracks, creating a diversion, as he had wanted.

"Specs, hey, my time's over, okay? My awesome self has been fading for awhile, abd you know it, but I'm a soldier, always have been. I don't have time for your shitty politics anymore, and Russia... I still have a few things to settle with that idiot. I'll show him that the awesome me still has a few tricks up his sleeve. I'm not completely useless, despite what you think."

In the aftermath of Prussia's sacrifice, he didn't know who had been more distraught: him or Germany. They hadn't had time to dwell on it, however, as almost immediately they had been thrust headlong into fortifying their defences, and Austria had felt a large stab of fear concerning this new war. The only thing preventing them from being surrounded on all sides was that Canada still stood fighting in North America, despite the opinions of many that the country known for its peacekeeping would not stand long against the stronger American army. Were it not for France and England, Austria knew America likely would have controlled the entirety of North America already. Poland, Hungary, Romania, Slovakia and Norway still stood as well, with aid from countries like Denmark and Bulgaria, with Turkey promising support from the south. Japan fought his occupation as well, and it gave Austria a small sense of relief to know that there were many others, unnamed, that fought alongside them.

He was careful not to betray the shaking of his insides as he placed the candelabrum on the wooden side table with a deceptively steady hand, turning his attention to the windows. With deft movements he moved towards the curtains, opening them, letting what little sliver of moonlight in that he could. It was then he realised that Liechtenstein was still there, and that she was watching him with a sad smile on her face, one that reflected in the dull green of her eyes.

For a moment the two just watched each other, and Austria felt frightfully young again, like he had in the early days of the Habsburg marriages between himself and Spain, before they had grown and matured in their own respective ways.

It was, unsurprisingly, Liechtenstein who broke the silence, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Austria reflected that she was already far more mature than he had ever been.

"I think my brother is grateful that you are here, Mister Austria," she said, and Austria struggled not to correct her, to say, he would not care if he never saw me again, as she continued, "and I think it will not be long before he comes to find you. And I… I am happy you are here, too. Brother means well, he truly does, but he is so withdrawn now, so stressed, and he will not let me help ease his worries. Maybe you can. "

Austria did not know how, not when Switzerland was just as happy never speaking to him, pretending the past didn't exist, but he did not voice it. Nor did he voice that Switzerland could have chosen a better ally, someone stronger like Germany, to propose an alliance with. No, Austria was, first and foremost, an aristocrat, so he did what any aristocrat would do and accepted her words with a small incline of his head, and a clipped word of gratitude. She smiled at him again, looking tired, before withdrawing, and leaving him once more to his thoughts.

In retrospect, they were blind to not have seen it coming. Though perhaps it was less blindness, and instead the purposeful turning of a blind eye that had lead to this, like it had lead to the rise of others so many years ago, in those years between 1930 and 2000 when the world seemed content to turn its back on everything until it was too late to act. That wasn't to say America was anything like the old German party, but the swelling of power had been so eerily similar, both ignored by those in other places, and America's fall had been slow, so slow that they hadn't even realised just how much he had fallen before it was too late. The transition from liberal to illiberal, from being innocent until proven guilty to being executed without trial simply because of a suspicion—all without the international community doing anything but clicking their tongues in disapproval, if even that. With that blind eye, that turning of cheek, America had turned away from the very rights he had once championed so strongly, while still insisting they were present; while still telling his people that they were Americans, that they would always be Americans, and how, for as long as he stood, their rights would always be assured.

Austria laughed bitterly at the thought. He had never known America well, but watching England's devastation had been enough, and hearing it from him in that heartbreaking tone had made even Austria, who had long since learned to shelter his heart, grieve for the little brother England had once raised and cherished and loved, despite the bad history between himself and the green-eyed Brit.

Irrefutable was the fact that this mess was all their faults. Apathy brought about death far quicker than action did, and it had been the people's apathy that had destroyed America, and many others, from the inside-out. The people championed, yes; they quoted their rights, they whinged, but when it came to acting, there had been nothing but silence. Democracy could not function against the people's apathy, and so it had crumbled from the inside, but subtly, so the people didn't know it was gone until they could do nothing.

And now look where that had brought them. The North American brothers, so similar and so different, warring against each other while the rest of them struggled to stand against the onslaught from the east.

His mouth thinning into a hard line, Austria turned his head back to the window, and to the sliver of a moon that he could barely see, covered by translucent clouds in the night sky. Somewhere out there Germany was hunched over his desk, where Austria would have once sat with him, Prussia lounging on the couch and cracking jokes to put them at ease as they struggled to see what they should have all seen already.

Maybe it had started with the vengeful slaughter of a mass murderer, but maybe it had been going on long before that, since the scars that had appeared over America's chest, unseen by all except those who happened a glimpse. They were not unlike the scars on his psyche, Austria thought sadly, as for all his bravado, America had still been very much a boy in comparison to many of them.

He did no good sitting there and lamenting, however. The blame was his as much as it was everyone else's, and he accepted it with the grace of the nobility before he removed the white jacket he had worn since earlier that day, leaving it hanging inside the ornate wardrobe before he left the room, adjusting the buttoned cuffs on his wrists as he did so.

The house was just as quiet as before, perhaps even more so, but for now it was a safe haven. There were no ghosts lurking in the shadows, no soldiers banging at the doors, and Austria did not even spare the windows a glance as he swept through, his expression a careful mask, and he did not know how long he walked before he realised he had become lost in the dark house.

"You… you really have not—you're lost."

Austria stilled instantly at the sound of Switzerland's voice, and though he did not turn, he acknowledged that he had heard with a faint sigh.

"Yes, well, are you surprised?" he queried, covering his embarrassment, glad that Switzerland could not see the faint red tinge to his face.

"What? No! Nothing you do surprises me," Switzerland replied, and the sharpness of his voice made Austria turn.

"I know you didn't want this," he said, the dark not allowing him to see Switzerland's expression. There was not enough natural light, not now. "I'm sorry, Switzerland."

"What are you apologising for? You didn't attack Canada, you didn't invade Finland, you didn't kill Prussia—what the hell do you have to be sorry for?" Switzerland's tone was defensive now, and Austria could imagine the red of his face; could picture him reaching up to brush an errant strand of blonde hair from his face. There was little doubt in Austria's mind that Switzerland had only proposed out of necessity—he had made it clear that any friendship between them was dead and buried. His protectiveness in the church was likely only due to the need to protect the newfound alliance they had, and Austria did not even allow himself to speculate on the kiss. It was a show, as everything else was, and as everything between them would be.

"Because I didn't see," Austria said mildly, and he was rewarded with silence from the other nation. The mention of Prussia pained him, but he didn't voice it. Doubtless Switzerland wouldn't care—he had never been secretive about his disdain for the red-eyed ex-nation. It had been present in every frown directed towards him, and in the way Austria had noticed his fingers clench when Prussia was around, hovering around Austria's person with a ready smile and subtle touches.

"None of us saw," Switzerland said at last, sounding more distant that time, but his tone changed very quickly to one of frustration. "Goddamnit, none of us saw, and now we're scrambling to keep ourselves together because of a delusional boy and a—a psychopath!"

Austria's eyes narrowed, and he sighed through his teeth. "This isn't my fault," he said. He could hear Switzerland moving, and within moments one of the old-fashioned oil lamps lining the halls was lit, and Switzerland was glaring at him, but it was a stiff expression, devoid of any true passion.

"Not everything is your fault."

"It seems it always is with you." It came out before he could stop himself, and he glanced away as a flush overtook his face, one born of both embarrassment and frustration.

Switzerland had the decency to blink and glance away, though there was now an unpleasant twist to his mouth.

"Why did you propose the alliance, Switzerland?" Austria asked, and there was tiredness in his voice this time; weariness in his face. Were he in a more normal frame of mind, perhaps he would have been shocked by his own question, as he had never been overly comfortable voicing such things, or otherwise stating his opinion.

"It was the smart thing to do," Switzerland answered, a sour twist to his mouth even as he shut his eyes, as if he were desperately trying to forget something. "Hungary can fend for herself for a little while longer, now that Romania and Poland are pulling their armies together, and should she need to fall back, now she'll have something to fall back too."

He bristled at the implication, but could not argue—he was weak, and would be unable to support Hungary if she needed it, he who was too used to relying on Germany for everything. That was not an option anymore. Germany was already being stretched thin; he could not afford to lend aid to anyone not in dire need of it.

"I see," Austria said coolly, and for a moment he and Switzerland regarded each other, and Austria was quick enough to see something flicker briefly in Switzerland's eyes—irritation? Relief?—before the other nation's face fell into the same no-nonsense expression he had worn upon entering the house.

"Walk down the hallway, turn left, and go up the flight of stairs. Your room is the second on the right," he said tonelessly before turning and walking away, extinguishing the light as he did so, leaving Austria to follow his directions with cold precision.

Austria's thoughts were no less tumultuous as he lay in the bed Switzerland had provided, some fifteen minutes having passed, but he stilled them by thinking of melodies and harmonies; of the keening sorrow of a violin or the expressiveness of a pianoforte. He took comfort in the fact that he would be returning to his own lands the next day, in order to assist with the defence plans and further ready himself for a battles that were proving to be unavoidable, but the dark cloud that hung over them all was a constant companion to him as well, and it was a long time before he was able to let his thoughts drift, the image of Prussia, bloodied and proud in the defeat Austria had once craved, the last thing his mind allowed him to see before sleep took him at last.