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[spaus-week]

SpAus Week | Day2

«But none of those gems shine brighter than your eyes.»

(music source)

[Post Version]

[spaus-week]

SpAus Week | Day2 «But none of those gems shine brighter than your eyes.»

[Video Version]

[spaus-week]

SpAus week day 2!!! (Totally not late)

“But none of those gems shine brighter than your eyes” @spaus-week

Lately I’ve had a big thing for spaus angst, and Spain suffered last time so why not turn the tables lols

You can tell dialogue is not my strong suit that’s why I hardly write it but enjoy 🙏

!!CW: Austria misses being wanted (romantically, but also sexually) - still no NSFW dw! He’s just a bit lonely. Again, this isn’t a healthy depiction of their relationship, but I like the concept of nations in general having complex relationships due to arranged marriages, wars, impossible loves, immortality, etc.

Anyways!

‘In my dreams’

You are strong and proud and cruel and not afraid to shed blood. Oftentimes I find the conviction in your eyes frightening, when you return home to me, to my arms, and tell me all about your conquests, and the spoils you take for yourself, your men, and for me. Then you shower me with shiny gifts from foreign lands; lands I own, yet have never once stepped foot in. Lands you once took by force, by ripping them from the cold, dead hands of those who came before.

“I do it all for Him, and for you,” you will say, and I will try to seek solace by fooling myself into believing you have noble intentions, for I become fearful of you without that mantra repeating in my head. You are a holy man, doing His sacred bidding. You are a holy man, with Him at the forefront of your mind on every expedition. You are a holy man, one who would cause no unnecessary harm to those who oppose our great empire. And when you return, I welcome you home, because, in my dreams, you are still kind. In my dreams, you return to me and sob in my arms and mourn the recusant lives you condemned to eternal suffering. In my dreams, you don’t take, you ask. And in my dreams, you never find anyone to satiate you for the years at a time in which you leave me. Instead, you return to me, desperate for my touch, my body…

Yet only in the dead of night, when the world turns a blind eye, relinquishing to sleep, do I accept that these are falsehood I create. In the end, it is I who is sobbing, alone in our large, empty bed. And it is I who pleads, desperate for you, when you return. The silk sheets and fine wines aren not enough to fill the gaping void left by your every departure. And when you return, I know it will be brief. I know your presence will only bring forth more suffering in my soul, for you love the violence of war more than you ever loved me. But, then again, this was always how it would end.

I recall the day we were wed. Your boyish face had looked so kind back then, and it had eased my nerves about the matrimony. The unions of our two nations strengthened my realm and your kingdom, just as the contract intended. Perhaps I was foolish to think love could blossom from said contract, although at first I believed it true. Your hands were still soft back then, a symbol of your innocence, now disrupted by rough callouses and scars. Your green eyes had been large, full of curiosity and life, yet now all they hold is your lust for power, which surpasses even my own.

I step out of bed, and once more I am the only lonesome creature awake at such an hour. In the darkness, I leave behind the empty bed, and I am driven by instinct to the balcony. I gaze upon the ocean, and count the ships in the harbour, wishing one of them were yours. The moonlight ripples on the surface of the black waters, and I glance down at the band of gold around my finger. It is plain, no intricate craftsmanship whatsoever. This is a contract, and this hastily-made band of gold is nothing but a seal.

Still, I do not lack more grandiose jewellery, you bring chests full of silver, gold, exotic creatures and gemstones. They have stopped bringing me the same rush they once did, all I want is you.

I can’t bring myself to wear the jewels you bring, for they only serve as a reminder that you’re not here. That you have a greater purpose in life. That you can’t be with me now, in the dead of night, looking down at me with that passion I see whenever it is time for you to leave again. I want that passion directed at me. I want to see nothing but emerald green while I revel in your touch. I want you to want me more than anything, and your spoils don’t suffice… none of those gems shine brighter than your eyes.

But you’re nowhere near, and I have no idea when you will return to me. All I can do is seethe as I imagine who may be keeping you company tonight, while I remain wanton and chaste.

In my dreams, you are mine, fully.

[spaus-week]

One more drabble that was meant for @spaus-week. The prompt was "I'll never forget what you looked like on that night."

Again, I am behind but I wanted to write out my ideas anyway.

-------------------------

1867

Austria was going through the plan for the day in his head as he opened the door to his chambers. As with any court ceremony, there were so many pieces of choreography that he had to remember. Any small mistake would surely be taken as an affront, and he knew the emperor would not let him forget it.

He was in his chambers walking towards the carefully prepared uniform on the bed when he heard, “Rodrigo?”

He turned on his heel to see Spain sprawled across one of his chaises, looking up at Austria. His green eyes looked melancholy, almost pleading. Austria didn’t understand his presence in the slightest, and asked, “What are you doing here? Guests are not supposed to be up here.”

Spain stood up and said, dodging the question, “Guest? I know the way. These used to be my rooms too.”

Austria didn’t have time for mystery since the festivities were on a tightly controlled schedule, so he replied, “I suppose they were. But that does not answer the question. What are you doing here now?”

In response, he got a strangely pleading look. He saw Spain’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed some emotion. Spain spoke, meeting his eyes, “I’ll never forget what you looked like on that night.”

Given the context, he could guess what night Spain was talking about, but he needed to be sure, “What night?”

Spain sighed, clearly frustrated that Austria had not gotten his meaning immediately, “Our wedding night.” He laid a hand softly on the side of Austria’s face, “It was just you and me in this room.”

Austria remembered it well. It was the first moment that he thought that the marriage could perhaps be something more than political convenience. It was a pleasant memory, but he was not certain why Spain was being nostalgic about it. Austria clearly remembered who had initiate the process to dissolve their marriage.

He didn’t withdraw from the touch, but he did say, “Antonio, our annulment was over a century ago. Why come to me now?”

He thought he knew the answer. Though they had been separated in the eyes of the church for so long, he had never remarried. It had been his right to do so, but the politics had never been advantageous enough. Nor had he kept his distance from Spain. There were a smattering of nights over the years that had kept something alive between them.

Perhaps Spain had taken all of that as proof that the soul of their marriage had lasted even after the legal bonds were severed.

Spain affirmed that conclusion when he said, “Yes, but you’ve never-“ He paused and gathered himself before saying, “You never replaced me.”

The phrasing spoke volumes, and Austria could not say that he was surprised. Spain had always been selfish and deeply attached to what he viewed as his. It seemed that he still viewed the place at Austria’s side as his even when the church said otherwise.

What an irony for a pious man.

Austria said, as bluntly as he could manage, “And now I will. Tomorrow I will be married. If you do not wish to see that, you do not have to be there. I invited you as a courtesy.”

He had invited everyone in Europe, though he could admit that extending an invitation to Spain had given him pause. Spain leaned closer and asked, sincerely, “I know.”

Wordlessly, he joined their lips. Austria knew that he should push him away, but he’d always loved the way that it felt when Spain kissed him. Spain said, as he pulled back, “I don’t think I am ready to let you be someone else’s.”

His voice had a rough edge of possession that Austria hadn’t heard for so many years. He hated the feeling it stirred in him, even so long after he first accepted that Spain would leave him.

He bit his lower lip as he thought of what to say. He didn’t want to break Spain’s heart, but he realized he had critically underestimated how much love remained.

He said, shortly, “That isn’t up to you.” Spain made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, “Couldn’t it be?”

Without waiting for a response, he joined their lips again. Austria kissed him back even though his every rational faculty was telling him not to.

He felt Spain’s hand caress his cheek more lovingly than it had for years. Austria’s heart sank. That touch unmistakably said that if the bond was not severed, Spain not accept that he was remarrying.

You have to do it for both of you.

Austria adopted a harsher tone, “Be realistic, Antonio. Why would I abandon this marriage for the sake of a third-rate power who barely has an empire anymore?”

He knew it would hurt; he knew Spain’s ego was his most sensitive point. He could see the way the man recoiled, so he knew it worked. Spain tried to speak, “But-“

Austria cut him off before he could say something painfully sentimental, “For love? That is irrelevant. I do not marry for love, and you know that perfectly well. You lost what made you worth marrying years ago.”

To make his point even more clearly, he pulled away from Spain’s touch. Before turning away, he said, as clearly and imperiously as he could muster, “This marriage is happening. If you cannot keep yourself from making a scene, I suggest you go back to Madrid. Go lick your wounds there, and do not make it my problem.”

[spaus-week]

This was originally for the quote prompt for Day 2 of @spaus-week. But I am very behind, so the event is already over. I am still going to post some writing anyway.

----------------------------------

The note was written in such a neat handwriting that Austria knew immediately was not Spain’s. He must have been dictating. It read, “I will return at the end of the month. For now, I send you this piece of my love. The gold and emeralds are from the colonies. I know how you love pretty things.”

It came with a small box that Austria felt remarkably uninterested in. With an air of frustrated boredom, he opened the present to see a ring.

It shimmered in the light from the open window. Anyone else would perhaps have been impressed and spent time admiring the size of the stone or the purity of the gold. It was, after all, certainly expensive.

Austria felt no such inclination.

This was the second letter in a row that Spain had sent insisting that he would have to put off his trip to Vienna because he was busy in the colonies. There seemed to be an unending series of colonial duties that needed his attention or English pirates that he had to chase off.

What had been their regular time together was shrinking into occasional visits, each shorter than the last. Most of the time, Austria tried hard not to think about how profoundly lonely it felt to be an obligation rather than a labor of love.

Spain made that task impossible when he insisted on sending trinkets and gifts like this. It made the distance feel greater and the empty side of the bed colder.

He sighed and closed the box, so he did not have to look at the reminder of all the things Spain was prioritizing.

He remembered their most recent argument so clearly. Spain had raised his voice and said, “You resent that I have an empire because it makes me your equal.”

Austria shut his eyes for a moment and sighed deeply at the memory. He had no illusions about why he had chosen to marry Spain, nor had he ever lied to his husband about it. Faced with the prospect of fighting France, he had needed someone on his side who could fight. He'd chosen a young power on the rise and Spain's attractiveness hadn't even crossed his mind before the wedding night.

But that was not how their marriage stayed. If it had, he wouldn’t have a place in his chest that ached at Spain’s absence. He wouldn’t long to feel those calloused hands caressing his face every morning.

Maybe, he thought, He is right. I do resent his empire.

It was not, however, for the reasons that Spain seemed to think. It had nothing to do with the money or the power, and little bits of wealth would not mollify him.

No, he mused to himself, writing a letter in response that he knew he would never put to paper, No, what you don’t understand, Antonio, is that none of those gems shine brighter than your eyes. You could send me every single thing you mined out of the soil of the New World, and it still wouldn’t be enough. I miss you.

He opened his eyes and glanced around at the waiting courier who had brought him the letter. He beckoned to the man and said, “I need you to take this.”

He deposited the ring box in the man’s hand, “I want you to go offer this to Erzsebet. If she does not want it, give it to Bohemia.” He waved his hand dismissively, “One of them will want it.”  He kept the unspoken words in his mind: I most certainly do not.

[spaus-week]

After the second time she pressed a wrong key she was annoyed enough at the way he kept staring at her that she changed to Chopin. It had never been uncommon for Antonio to join her in the music room when he had the time to spare back when they had been married, but he had never looked at her quite like that.

When she played the wrong key yet again though, she was absolutely done with it and turned away from the grand wing to glare at him.

He looked at her in surprise. “Why did you stop playing?” Not the question he should be asking, he was playing dumb. The man was smarter then he usually let on, Anneliese knew that because she had known him so long and she knew him well.

“You should ask me why I’m angry.” She told him.

He smiled at her and asked “Why are you so angry, dear?”

The woman huffed and looked away. “You distract me, why are you here anyway?” Her ex had just shown up without any official business or other reason, but she had allowed him to stay anyway.

“Simply to visit you.” He answered, still smiling.

“And to stare at me.” She grumbled annoyed.

Antonio looked at her for another moment before walking over and sitting down next to her at the grand wing. He took her hands at placed the back at the keys and asked her to play something again.

As she began moving her fingers across the keys again, he began talking. Talking about the past and old glory. How, for as rich as he had been her eyes were brighter than the most beautiful gems he had ever owned.

“What?” She was the only thing she could manage.

“Especially when you’re playing Chopin.” Did the idiot really just say that? No wonder he was one of Gilbert’s best friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 2 prompt "But none of those gems shine brighter than your eyes." For @spaus-weekweek.

[spaus-week]

She had noticed him sitting there in the garden of the office complex with his back against the tree, seemingly just enjoying the warmth of the sun while she had been on her way to the next meeting she had to attend.

Anneliese hadn’t stopped walking but she had immediately noticed something hadn’t been right. There had been something of about him. She knew because she knew Antonio.

So when he was still sitting in the exact same spot after he meeting ended so made a beeline for him before she even knew what she was doing. When she made it over to where her old love was sitting he didn’t seem to notice her presence, it was only when she stood in front of him and the sun cast her shadow over him that he opened his eyes.

He smiled at her, but she had already seen the hurt in his gaze and she sat down beside him. “What is wrong now?” The woman asked and he only told her he did not want to burden her with the things he had done.

“We’ve all done things to regret.” As answer he only hang his head. For a while the Anneliese didn’t know what to do or how to help him, so she simply placed her hand over his.

The Spanish man looked up at this action. “You don’t know half of the details.” Was spoken softly.

“Tell me all the worst things you have ever done.” She encouraged him.

“You’ll hate me if I do.”

“No, I have loved you too much to ever hate you Antonio.”

He began telling the stories he had needed to share with someone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 1 prompt "Tell me every terrible thing you've ever done and let me love you anyway." for @spaus-week.

[spaus-week]

He wanted to reach out to her, simply make eye contact long enough during the meeting that she would know he still craved her attention, and her love. Antonio had learned, mostly through the years spend separated since their divorce, that he loved Anneliese and had never stopped loving her.

The Spaniard was also sure that the lady he still dreamed about at night would never marry him again and didn’t want to upset the most beautiful woman he had ever known by asking her to. So he kept his feelings to himself and let her be free to love who ever she chose to love.

One day he might be free of her as well…

Anneliese made sure to look perfect for this meeting. She always cared about making a good impression during a meeting, of course, but this was one of those meetings her former husband would also be present at.

She had several exes, but Antonio was still the one who held her heart. During meetings they both attended the Austrian woman made sure to look her very best, just in case he would actually take notice of her again. He never did, rather spending his time laughing with his best friends or close family instead of looking at her.

One day she would be able to her him laugh without missing him…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 5 prompt pinning for @spaus-week

[spaus-week]

Free Day!! >w< 💗

Thank you to everyone who joined Spaus Week, it was very exciting to see everyone's work <3

To anyone who'd still like to join, you are always welcome to do so!! I will keep reblogging entries as long as this blog is @'ed ^^ 🌸

[spaus-week]

"Bella gerunt alii, tu felix Austria nube!"

Day 6 of @spaus-week 's challenge

"Let others wage war, you, happy Austria, marry!" Was the political strategy of the Habsburgs, and marry did the House of Austria! Infamously, scandalously, sensationally. A mangled wreath of a family tree. We all know this horror story. And we all know the bitter end.

After Emperor Charles V&I divided his Spanish and Austrian inheritance ((also gained through his parents' and grandparents' marriages)) to his descendants and those of his younger brother Ferdinand I respectively, the Habsburg dynasty split into two branches. The Spanish and Austrian Habsburgs notoriously intermarried for generations, right up till Charles II of Spain whose heirless death in 1700 sparked the War of the Spanish Succession. The inbreeding and this informal Latin motto behind it has been blamed to hell and back for their implosion, for the physical ugliness that ran in this royal bloodline. But it is not to say the Habsburgs never went to war, nor that dynastic marriage was a political strategy unique to them! But they were, if anything, bloody successful at it seeing how they did rule half of Europe for 200 years, and then a lot of it in the Austrian line for another 200. Before anyone figured out inbreeding was bad it was considered a privilege to marry into the Habsburgs, with Louis XV claiming that Louis XVI's betrothal to Marie Antoinette was marrying the "Daughter of the Caesars", and Napoleon Bonaparte infamously ditching Josephine for Marie Louise. Charles II was a poor sod who took the fall and the mugs were wretched from the same ugly gene being passed around countless times*, but they did wear power and privilege well.

💅✨ Symbolism bc I'm a NERD and this my Category 10 autism event ✨💅 :

Charles V & Ferdinand I's joint portrait based on that propaganda woodcut, behind them the colours of the Habsburg flag.

The Spanish branch, comprising Charles V & I's descendants, is represented with a black background, and the Austrian branch, comprising Ferdinand I's descendants, gold, both colours pulled from their flag, a dynasty intertwined but split in two.

Round frames denote that the individual had no heirs.

Only the most influential ruler on both sides, the King of Spain and the Holy Roman Emperor, are represented as framed portraits, explaining Archduke Charles II's unframed depiction.

The unconventional placement of Charles II of Spain and Emperor Rudolf II's nameplates are a nod to their queerness: their intersexuality and bisexuality respectively.

Ferdinand III's portrait is lopsided because of the losses of the 30 Years War.

Cracks in Charles II's portrait: 🙃🙃🙃

[spaus-week]

Day 6! >w<

[spaus-week]

Today is Day5! :3

[spaus-week]

Crown and Cover

(Figured I'd use a couple prompts for this one. Enjoy me challenging myself not to use dialogue (unspoken words) and also writing a neat little story.) @spaus-week

Antonio was the most famously brilliant knight in this land. He could see the weakness in any style of fighting and deal with them accordingly. He wielded so many weapons in his lifetime, choosing currently to hold his favorite axe. Antonio was as fearsome as the way his king maneuvered his way through the bureaucratic process.

What a beautiful process it was to witness, all because he got to witness his king.

Antonio was devout to the crown. His life's work had been all for the one who ruled this handsome land. His love had been poured out for the sake of this great ruler many times. So now, standing aside for the umpteenth time, there was not a lot to say. He had already said it all.

He watched his lovely king, his Rodrigo, bargaining with the nobles of a place he didn't bother to memorize. He watched carefully, examining each flourish that the royal hands made. He watched his king play viciously through his game of chess, making moves so genius that the other party didn't realize they were being systematically punished for every action. Antonio craved the ability to speak to his king, but the guard was not to speak in dealings such as these, nor was he to speak of it at all.

King Roderich had told him specifically to stay quiet. He wanted to test his beloved knight's devotion. So far, it proved true.

Antonio could have said something about the way those nobles felt so confident in their position. Roderich could have led them on himself, made them believe that he was truly planning something else. But, both had learned new ways of thinking from the other. The crown glinted in the light, and his cover stood over him in a show of dominance.

By the time the nobles realized they had been ensnared, the king was staring impatiently into their souls, as his knight eyed the jugular. With a simple glare, both motioned for the immediate resolution of this issue. The nobles would comply, gritting their teeth and signing their right to operate under no supervision away. Finally, when they left, the King and his favorite guard could relax.

Antonio fell into Roderich's waiting hand, the king having now turned to face his beloved soldier. The words went unspoken, the time went slowly, and the crown was slowly draped over by his cover's body. Roderich pushed up a little on the heavy armor, but it was no use. Antonio lifted himself anyways, listening to every word that was never said, just like he always would.

[spaus-week]

Day 4: «When on Earth was the last time you even fit into that?»

For @spaus-week because I'm ((unlicensed)) H*bsburg historian and closet h*talia veteran and im about to make it everyone else's problem

Franz I/II's proportions under the cut

[spaus-week]

Day4!! :3 As always, late entries are forever welcome! <3

[spaus-week]

Frog

(Because I couldn't figure out what else to do, I just put them in a silly situation. Also, sorry it's late!) @spaus-week

A staredown in the middle of the garden. The morning dew still wet on the tips of grass outside. Small beady eyes like water droplets on an alien body, both gazing up at the terrified giant before it. There was many a reason this small frog should be afraid of this man. So many reasons that this situation shouldn't be so ridiculous.

And yet, here they are, acting as if Roderich was small and this frog was the largest threat known to man. His eyes were wide with a cautionary glare, occasionally twitching to observe his surroundings. Why was he so afraid of these little things? He didn't know. He didn't really care either! He wanted it gone before it could jump up onto his frame and topple him with the sheer force of disgust.

Antonio walked outside, witnessing Roderich frozen in fear over the outdoors in general. "Uh, Rodrigo?" He asked into the air.

"There's a gross thing in the grass and it won't move." Roderich muttered, slow and steady. "You know I hate being outside with all of these things! I don't think I can do this, it's too much."

"Will you ever stop fearing the outdoors?" Antonio stepped forward, scaring the frog away in the process. He put an arm around Roderich, proud of the man for not running away like the last time he was surprised by a small and slimy animal. "I mean, really? You've survived a lot."

"Well that doesn't mean I enjoy it." Roderich scoffed. He grasped at the shirt he wore, thinking it was far to casual to be outside in. Such simple things were meant to be worn as pajamas, if at all. Or maybe he was old fashioned that way.

Antonio was clearly more comfortable in the t-shirt and shorts, his grin as wide as ever as he leaned in to give Roderich a small kiss. "You're too cute. Maybe keep this up and I'll be entertained while I work outside?"

"Ugh! You're insufferable." He could have been worse, but instead, he moved to return the kiss on the cheek.

"There's my princess." Antonio smirked, toying with his lover's feelings.

"I'm going inside." Roderich rolled his eyes and turned around.

"No wait, I was kidding! Please come back." Antonio pleaded. He really did want his lover to come garden with him, but he knew this was a possibility. Still, it was a little sad!

"No thank you. I'll bring you a drink soon." Roderich couldn't help but smile, the last laugh falling into his demeanor despite the slightest ridicule he'd faced before.

[spaus-week]

@spaus-week day 3: Alice in Wonderland AU