~Part 1~

A/N: Okay, so lately- I've been having extreme problems writing about Prussia like I usually do, and since I've always wanted to do a Habsburg slash historical fic, I decided- why not? A huge thanks to IlluminatedShadow for writing the fanfiction that provided the inspiration for this piece.

This story is about Austria's marriage to Spain, a union that lasted from 1504 to the early 1700's.

...

"Let others wage war- you fortunate Austria, marry."

...

It was only for political reasons why they joined hands at first. France and their other rivals were gaining too much power, and their governments could not allow it- could not afford for it to happen.

The solution is quite simple, and both (being immortals) are not too surprised when it is brought up and agreed upon. In fact- it was the easiest and fastest way to overcome the tipping of the scales in the enemy's favour. Austria understands the implications of such a bond, as does Spain. It is all to the greater good of the state and people and nothing more beyond that. As countries, they did what was expected of them.

But- there would be no love. There was certainly power now, but there would be no love. They were two strangers that had never before met. Austria wonders sometimes with reluctance, but then remembers that it was all for the sake of duty with not much other reason to it.

Green eyes fondly look on and burn with something that is akin to pride as he watches Phillip lead his beloved Infanta Juana to the marriage altar. He thinks that they make a good couple with each other. After all, Juana had been raised for this moment- trained to please and taught all the graces needed to meet her future husband's approval.

Spain had been there as a mentor to guide and to watch. He was quite fond of the girl and found the Habsburg match to be most agreeable.

On the other hand, when he turns his gaze to the cool blue- almost violet- orbs of the other immortal, he finds that he can hardly decipher a single emotion across the impassive deamour that Austria wears. It half amuses him and half confuses him, but to his questioning stare- the brunet only rewarded him with a blunt "What."

Roderich sits up straight, poised, and without a single strand of hair out of place. He wears the haughty airs of a dignified aristocrat who is all too aware of his position, and comfortable within it. And then there's the coldness too, but was it not a trait that all the higher classes (especially the Austrians) carried?

Antonio is not too worried. He knows that he shouldn't be too quick to judge. Instead, he runs his hand- skin tanned from all the time at sea- through messy dark brown curls and only answers with the hint of a restrained smile.

"Unhand me this instant."

"But mi querido, it's our marriage night!"

Austria pushes the sounthern nation from his bedroom with an unexpected burst of strength and slams the door shut (locks it too- twice over) before his...husband now could react to what had happened. He ignores Spain's words and plays the notes of a complex piano piece in his head to help him ignore the other man. He knows that he was being slightly ridiculous, ignoring the rites for consummation and all, but he does not look back on it.

Something about the Spaniard unnerves him, but he cannot put his finger on what exactly. Eventually, Antonio leaves him in peace- but he found sleep just as uneasy.

The days pass quickly. Spain trails his newly wed like a neglected shadow most of the time. Roderich says almost nothing to him, and at times- he wonders if this is out of shyness or just because of a show of aloof disinterest.

He hopes that it is only the former- but he knows that the two things are measured together alongside. Antonio has learned a lot about the enigma otherwise known as Austria as he spent more and more time around him. Roderich is adept at hiding most, but his mask is not perfect yet. What he forgets to lock away, the other picks up, steals, and stashes away in his heart.

But even with all this, Spain cannot help but notice (and desire for) the physical appeals of his spouse. The taller brunet is beautiful- with a pale complexion that brings out the amethyst of his eyes and dark hair that reminds him of chocolate waves. And th there was always that smell- of- of coffee and cocoa?- that always followed him and the sway of his slender, almost feminine figure.

He got lost and misplaced items easily, and could not keep track of time. Even though Spain never saw the point of pianos- he had always thought them to be too frivolous and a waste of time- for once, he was grateful to the one that Portugal had given him that he kept around for decorative purposes only. Roderich played beautifully. Antonio couldn't but wish at times that he could be more like his piano-playing self regularly then as opposed to veiling himself with that aristocratic facade.

But then, he gets word that calls him to attend to his fleets for another voyage to the New World.

Spain wishes that he could take the other along with him but he knew that the answer would be a staunch no. Instead, he kisses Roderich's hand and promises to bring him back a shipload of gold and treasure.

Nevertheless to say, he was surprised when Austria tells him goodbye.

Maybe it was because he had gotten used to Spain's presence in the few weeks they lived together, because Austria starts to almost miss the other and all his meaningless gifts and annoying pestering daily. He returns back to Vienna and is welcomed with open arms by Hungary, a piping curious Veneziano and a smiling Holy Roman Empire.

He satisfies Elizabeta's questions on what happened in Madrid and of Phillip and Juana's union and of Antonio's character. He keeps an eye out on Holy Rome who still has not seemed to scrap the little crush he had since the beginning on Feliciano.

Roderich had almost forgotten what home felt like in his absence.

"Mi querido Roderich-

It is not a hobby for me to lie when it is not needed, so I will not lie in denying the fact that it is rather dull here without your company, and without your clever little fingers to play those pieces that I have grown fond of hearing. They don't leave my head at night, but I do not mind their presence at all, really..."

Antonio's first letter arrives a month or two after his departure, a doting message sprinkled with a light dose the playful jeer that too often fell into his real voice. The gesture touches the Austrian a little, but Spain was far from having his affection. He is, after all- a powerful nation and not a mere easy damsel to be wooed. Roderich decides to write back some time later when his collection starts adding up.

And- for some strange reason or the other- he keeps the pieces of paper and does not throw them away.

He finds the Spaniard in his waiting room after about a year of absence to the West Indies, more leaned and tanned and with an expression that reminded him of a lazy beast waiting for the right moment to strike. The scents of the sea air faintly follow him, and the smile that he flashes the Austrian is as carefree (and slightly predatory) as he had remembered it.

"Mi señor, how did you fare when I was gone?" he asked, making a small bow to his spouse, who chose to ignore the slight joke that Antonio was trying to make.

"Fine. And you, Spain?"

He took a sip of the tea- a luxury that he had missed, "Oh, good I suppose. I captured more territory and put those savages under my control. You would not believe the size of one of those mines we discovered- enough ore to probably feed the whole of Europe for a decade! Imagine that."

"I see."

"Would it then," green eyes flashed in amusement, "please you more to hear that I brought something back for you?"

A brow raised in curiosity as Austria pushed his teacup back, fingers drumming on the porcelain saucer, "You did not have to. I asked for nothing."

"I would lavish the entire world on you, mi dulce, if I could- but, I don't have that in my possession. Yet."

Instead of the world, what he gives Roderich is a miniature ornamental grand piano crafted out of silver and gold. The Austrian wanted to roll his eyes at Antonio for giving so useless a gift, as the little thing could obviously not play- and thus, had no purpose in his mind. But he doesn't out of politeness. Instead, he taps out a melody on the immobile keys and then turns his gaze on Spain.

A quiet thank you is given. Austria can see that his husband values the little piano more than he does.

...

"One need not hope in order to undertake; nor succeed in order to persevere."

...

Antonio decides that if they cannot love, then they could at least have their physical needs met. Maybe it was the too long absence that made him break out of the shell of reluctance to state his own opinion on affairs.

He is all too aware of what Roderich is trying to do, but he wishes that the Austrian would look more into the present then the future, and more of opportunity now then potential later.

If anything, he always took advantage of what he was given to use. Roderich was hardly going to be an exception to that policy.

"What are you doing here?"

It was hardly a question- more like a blunt statement whose purpose was to conceal the heavy mortification and surprise that lay underneath it. Austria says it with hints of a small frown on his usual impassive visage as he sets the candle down on his desk, realizing that he was not as quite alone as he expected in his bedroom.

The chills that run up his spine are hard to ignore as Spain advances towards him, a hungry look on his face with unabashed desire written all over his motives.

"My dear Roderich," it was but an animalistic growl, "My bed has been so empty and neglected."

"Spain-"

He is cut off as the southern nation crushes his lips on the other's, and- before Austria could push him away- takes advantage of the momentary shock to pry into his partner's mouth with his tounge and licks every inch of the cavern he could find. Large hands tangle themselves in waves of dark, chocolate brown as he holds his prize closer- lest the dove find some way to break free and fly off.

Roderich's knees feel weak as Antonio pulls away and appraises his flushed face with amused, smug verdant eyes. How long has it been since someone's dared to hold him that way- touched him that way?

He tries one last time in futile to take himself out of the other's leans arms, but Spain does not relent. Instead, he is carried over to the bed that the two of them were originally supposed to have shared.

And despite being a nation, he still has the needs of a man too, just like anyone else. He no longer resists the kisses and caresses that Antonio showers him with.

If he had opened his bed, he still would not let the other man take his heart as well to his hoard, for- Austria knows better then anyone that nothing lasted forever.

Emotional bonds only served as hinderances in duty, and he could not afford to have himself begin to feel.

~End of part 1~

So- how was it? Please review and leave a comment! I will update this when I have the next installment written. It generally doesn't take too long if my muse is active.