Hello!
This is the third time I'm trying to write this now. I am struggling far too much with this, usually this wouldn't have been a problem, but right now I'm incapable of coming up with something good. Anyways, let's try again!
This is a request by: clair_de_lune-
Also I'm incredibly sorry that this took so, so long! And I want to thank you for your patience. I had a lot going on with school, my hand was hurt, which was why I couldn't write and I started another book. And now my original book was deleted.
But now please enjoy my third try with this duo and tell me if you want to see the first failed attempt. Or just tell me if you saw this at all.
It's as you can see Russian Empire x France and set after the Napoleonic Wars, I was thinking between 1825 - 1840 mabye. Don't come at me for historical inaccuracies, I tried OK? I actually did some research for this.
Words: 4120
The night had come. The sky had first turned into a beautiful blend of reds and oranges, but lost its colour entirely now. The pitch black of the night had taken over and gave the stars and moon their time to shine. Splattered all over the dark canvas, creating different images for everyone, who still hoped and dreamt in these times. Everything else was swallowed by the darkness, only to be seen again once the light of the next day flooded the land again. The giant castle was no exception to this. The big rooms and long hallways were dark, only torches and candles giving a bit of light, as if they were stars that had fallen from the sky and by the next morning they would extinguish, like the hopes and dreams of so many. The light of one little candle was right now guiding St. Petersburg through one of said hallways. His steps were fast and quiet, he couldn't have cared less if the candle went out, the palace's layout was burned into his mind one way or another. The guards had woken him up, not daring to go to the man directly, someone tried to get in through their country's open bedroom window. They had discovered him at the last moment and managed to capture him, as he tried to flee. St. Petersburg had worked and lived with the Russian Empire long enough to know that the man most likely wouldn't be in his bed, or his personal quarters, at a time like this. He would rather be in his office, still working, overworking, trying to figure something out that can calm the high tensions at the moment, or solve some other prominent issue that might not even be his. So he threw on some clothes in a panic and made his way towards the man's office. When he finally got to the office door his suspicions were confirmed by a weak light shining through underneath the door. His firm, confident knocking startled the man, half asleep over a map and some other documents and letters on the other side. He scrambled to his feet, straightened his posture and answered with a somewhat firm, still a bit shaken, voice.
"Yes? Who's there?"
"It's St. Petersburg. I'm sorry to bother you, while you're working, but the guards have caught an intruder. He was trying to get in through your open bedroom window and I wanted to know if I should deal with this alone, or if you want to do it personally?" The man's confidence when talking to his Empire always surprised the Russian Empire at first, not one of his subordinates dared to talk with him and be as honest about their thoughts as St. Petersburg did.
"I don't see why you would need my help with-" Russia was about to answer, when his mind cleared from the sleepy haze and the letter he received a few days ago came to his mind again. He stopped himself mid sentence, now giving the other an actual firm command.
"Bring him to me. I will personally take care of this issue." The broken seal of the opened letter and bit of swift handwriting had his full attention now, as he traced the wax with his gloved fingers for what felt like the millionth time, since he received it and broke the seal.
St. Petersburg backed away from the door a bit, his eyes wide and confused at this reaction. Although he knew better than to question the others' orders, that never ended well.
"Yes Tsar, I'll have them bring him to your office immediately." As he was about to leave and fulfill the order, he was stopped by the Russian Empire's voice again.
"Bring him to my quarters. I don't want him seeing anything important. And make sure they bring me the keys to his chains." For a second there St. Petersburg debated whether the other Russian was too sleep deprived to notice how absurd this request sounded, or if this was a test of his obedience. He would not fail if it was.
"Yes, he'll be there in a few minutes." With that he now almost ran back the way he had just come, his candle going out in the process.
The Russian Empire breathed out a sigh of relief, he was never happier about St. Petersburg's obedience to him than right now.
"Oh what a dumbass to get himself caught..." He quietly trails off, as he takes the letter back in hand. It was from France, he regularly sent those letters. Letters meant for no one but the Russian Empire himself, for various reasons that is. This last one however was special, he announced that he would come to visit the Russian. He didn't request, no the man was too much of a proud, overconfident asshole for that, he just said he'd be there, disguised as a human to not draw any unnecessary attention. He didn't have a country to lead anymore, his younger brother took over France after the Napoleonic Wars, and so he found himself with much more free time on his hands than ever before. The logical solution to the boredom that came with that? Exactly, bother your busy Russian lover, that already has far too much to do! Really the man could be a menace if he wanted to. Laying the letter back down, he turned to look out the wide windows behind his desk. The lights of torches flickering down below as the guards holding them were walking, probably checking to see if there was anyone else threatening the palace's security. He raised his gaze to the beautiful night sky, the stars seemed brighter than usual and heavy clouds were approaching. They were coming in his direction and swallowed every bit of the sky, casting a shadow on the world beneath them. One couldn't escape them, they'd consume everything and make it rain for hours without break. He liked the rain, the sound of it hitting the windows was relaxing to him, he knew France disliked it. He preferred warm and dry weather, quite the opposite to what his lover liked. They could never agree on this and it may or may not have ruined some secret meet ups between just the two of them.
France. As he came back into the Russian Empire's mind, he decided to be petty today. A smirk spread over his face and he walked a few meters to the left. He pulled out a few books from his shelf and put them on the windowsill. There, cleverly hidden away behind books, laid a bottle of expensive red wine and two wine glasses next to it. He kept it there, should he ever need to persuade someone, or perhaps just for himself. He carefully took the bottle in his hands and inspected it, before deciding he didn't care too much what exactly it was, as long as it took his mind off work and current problems right now and got him in the mood to meet his lover. Knowing said man, he didn't travel almost 3000 kilometers just to spend some time with the other. He reached a bit further behind the books and felt around for a bit, before finding what he was searching for and pulling out a corkscrew. He set the bottle down on his desk and opened it, just laying the corkscrew beside the bottle, where no important papers could be stained. Then he carefully filled the fancy glass about half way and went to look out the window again. If France didn't feel the need to actually ask if his visit was convenient or not, then he didn't feel the need to be on time. The Frenchman could wait. Just the thought alone, France, disguised as a regular human one might add, kneeling on the floor with shackles around his wrists and ankles. Two guards standing on each side of him, holding him in his place on the ground by the shoulders or arms. Made him let out a dark chuckle, he deserved that rough treatment. He played around with the glass in his hand a bit, the wine swirling in the glass, before actually bringing it to his mouth and nipping at it. By now he was just killing time, time that France would spend kneeling uncomfortably on the floor of one of his rooms. Hopefully his knees would end up bruised. Another knock on the door, far less confident, snapped him out of his trance and made him turn to look at the door, as he answered.
"Yes? What is it?" He more so snapped at the door, than anything else. His annoyance at being disturbed was coming through quite clearly and made the soldiers on the other side flinch back from the door a bit.
"Please forgive us if we disturbed you, Tsar." There was a short unsure pause, as they looked at each other and then the door for any reaction from him. When nothing came after a second, the young man continued talking.
"But we were sent to inform you that the captured intruder has been brought to your chambers, as you wished it, now. There are two guards and St. Petersburg with him. They are waiting for your arrival." He could tell that this was his first time interacting with him, the man sounded like a nervous wreck.
"Good. You may continue with your work now. I will be there shortly." Yes, shortly, when he had deemed the other had waited for him long enough. When he had kneeled in front of people lower than him long enough. After a brief pause he actually got a rushed answer from both men.
"Yes, Tsar." Afterwards he heard their boots clank on the floor as they ran down the dark hallway. The minutes passed, time went on and he had emptied his glass for the third time. A glance at the old clock on his wall told him that he was sitting there for twenty minutes now. He was not the most patient man himself and therefore decided against a fourth glass of the good wine. The clouds in the distance almost stood over the palace by now and the wind was howling loudly. The rain could start pouring down at any moment now. A fond smile settled on his face as excitement bubbled up within him, as if he were a little boy. Finally he set down the empty glass, blew out the candles and walked out of his office in the dark. And so the quiet walk to his quarters began. He didn't hurry, why should he? France could wait, everyone here could wait. If it was him they were waiting for, no one would dare to even think about complaining.
The giant double doors to his room stood tall before him, dim candle light shining through underneath them. He took the time to just listen in the darkness for a bit, one could hear a pin drop. France must have taken a few hits and pretty rough treatment to keep this quiet. What a nice thought, that snappy bastard being put in his supposed place most likely by St. Petersburg. The man may not be a big fan of violence, but he disliked disrespect and stubbornness even more. Both of which were traits the Frenchman definitely acted out without shame. Although shame was something mostly foreign for the horny bastard, tell him to spread his legs and he does without hesitation. Russia had to force himself to stop grinning before finally opening one door and stepping into the room. Surprise washed over him at the strange display. St. Petersburg was wiping his bloody knuckles with a handkerchief and quickly turned to bow for him. France however could really use that handkerchief more. He was in fact kneeling on the ground and seemed a bit disoriented. The two guards on his sides now each also had one knee on the ground, bowing their heads low and quickly grabbing his shoulders to push his upper body to the floor, where he landed with a dump thud. His nose and a laceration on his forehead were bleeding. It was becoming more obvious that the blood on his hands surely wasn't St. Petersburg's own.
"Please excuse this... situation, my Tsar. He just would not cooperate, so he had to learn another way." His capital apologized, a certain disgust carrying over in his tone, as he walked over and handed the Tsar the two keys for their captives' restraints. The guards stood up again and France lifted his upper body from the floor, quite shaky in his movements, obvious if one were to observe him closely. But the look he shot the Empire just a second later, made a shudder creep under the man's clothes and skin. It went unnoticed.
"It's quite alright, you seem to have gotten him under control just fine. That's why you're my capital. You always know, or find a way to get them under control somehow." The dark, threatening tone towards the end of his sentence made a twisted smile grow on his and St. Petersburg's faces, while the guards shrunk into themselves and France grit his teeth. He knew what the Russian was up to, this was his act of petty revenge. But he knew how these situations went, well from the other perspective at least. And he knew he wouldn't meet the guillotine at the end of it, like many of the people he had met like this did. His mind was still a bit cloudy from the punches and it was harder to grasp a thought like this, so he just kinda sat there with his gaze kept low on the wooden floor. The sharp sound of metal immediately alerted him and he tried to blink the remaining reactionary tears out of his eyes to better see what was going on around him. He had very little success when he already felt what had caused the sound. The Russian Empire lifted his head with the tip of a shashka (a type of sword used in russia during the 19th century; all information I have are from the german Wikipedia about it) under his chin and grinned down at him as two tears fell from his eyes when they cleared up. This was the hottest state he'd ever seen France in. Chained, on his knees before him, his clothes ruffled and messy, nose and lips a bloody mess, a trail of the crimson liquid slowly drying on the side of his face and smeared, half dry blood all over the man's face, neck and clothes. They stared into each other's eyes in a silent fight. Conveying emotions unreadable for the rest of the room, anger, shame, passion, pettiness, lust, all flashing through them in seconds, dragging on like hours in a hot, crowded room. The last little string of patience and restraint the Russian Empire had left to cling onto snapped, when France bared his neck to the sword and grinned devilishly at him, pressing out his chest and widening the gap between his knees as far as his pants would allow him to. This was a challenge, one that the two guards and St. Petersburg would never understand, their confused expressions and unsure body language testified exactly this. Meanwhile the Russian Empire had to bite the inside of his cheek to save himself from the embarrassment of visibly shuddering at the display. He snarled, showing off his teeth for a moment, and snapped his head to the side to look directly at St. Petersburg and ordering him and the guards out. The three didn't question anything and just hurried to leave with the Empires piercing gaze on their backs.
"You know... St. Petersburg would have no problem killing a man with those punches and kicks, that guy couldn't put up much of a fight. Been a while since I felt any pain as strong as that."
"You're kneeling before me, the tip of my sword under your chin and every vulnerable part of your body exposed to my blade." He paused shortly, lowering said blade to the man's sternum, before continuing his sentence.
"And the first thing you do is compliment my capital's ability to fight?"
"What can I say? I didn't think you'd leave me waiting here for you for such a long time... that was a really mean thing to do, love." France cooed as the faded colours of his once vibrant flag returned to his face and body. The Russian Empire let an honest smile creep onto his face and his posture relax. His eyes softened and he let out a long breath. The sword left Frances sternum and skillfully trained hands carefully guided it back into its sheath.
"You're incorrigible... you know that right?" The tension left both men and the room, its atmosphere now rather goofy than hostile, or even sexual. France sunk back down into himself, as if he were sitting on his ankles and leaned his head forward into the offered hand. The Russian Empire, now with his lover's cheek in his left palm, got closer and on one knee to inspect the wounds and open the restraints.
"You like that about me tho... don't you?"
"I can't deny the truth." Their voices were soft, quiet. Golden eyes meeting mismatched red and blue ones, closing when finally, after months, two familiar pairs of lips met in each other's soft, delicate embrace only hesitantly leaving each other again.
"You're a mess, love..." Russian Empire whispered and started to clean France's face with his own handkerchief as gently as he could, wetting it with his own saliva and wiping away the blood. Ghosting kisses along the now somewhat clean skin. France just let him do it, it felt good to be taken care of and he did not get to feel like this often.
"You know...." A pause and hum of acknowledgement followed France's words.
"I've been thinking. About us, our relationship and the situation." Worried golden eyes tried to meet avoiding red and blue ones now. Any movements halted and slowly the words continued their flow.
"I can live anywhere I want, under the condition that the ruling countryhuman there allows it, in 14 months from now." The worry now gave way to a hopeful excitement and awakened a new shine in those lovey honey coloured eyes.
"I was thinking... maybe you'd open your doors to me and get me thicker blankets for those unbearable winters, you like so much?" The tight embrace that followed his words, knocked the air out of his lungs and made an almost painful relief wash over him.
"I'll have the thickest blankets on this planet made for you! Why on earth would you be this nervous to ask for that?" After ages the lock on his wrists chains clicked open and released his arms to move freely again. A pained groan left him as the blood started properly flowing now and therefore intensifying the pulsing dull ache. Ignoring that, he slumped against the Russian and clung to his back, head on his shoulder, nose buried against his neck.
"You stopped replying to my letters a while ago. I feared I might have offended you with something I had written. So I decided to just come and visit. I told you to keep your bedroom window open for me and figured you'd not want me here if it were closed..." A small pause followed his words, as if he were conflicted on whether he should give more in or leave it at that. "I also had a few fights with my brother, so it all got to my head. In my joy about the open window I didn't look around properly and got caught." He pushed the rest out quickly, but hesitant. Afterwards he breathed in his lover's scent, as if checking to see if he was really there, by his side and he was.
"I was terribly busy, love. I couldn't find the time to write to you. Had I known you'd take it to heart like this.... I would have just taken the time." Now the truth was out. While France was just sitting there, holding on to the taller Russian, said man fumbled with the keys to his chains in order to also free his feet at last.
"Why are you this busy... your country is doing pretty good at the moment, isn't it?" It sounded more like a childish complaint than an actual question. Like a young boy, who can not understand how his father could have business more important than listening to what new toys his friends had.
"My country is not the only one in this world you know? If I want to keep peace, I can't have war and conflicts being the only things that surround me."
"So in other words you're mingling in other countries' business and problems again."
"You could put it that way-" Rough hands, one slapped over his mouth, the other with a vice grip on his shoulder, interrupted his justification.
"When did any of them ever thank you?" Sharp, mismatched eyes met wide golden ones.
"When did any of them ever work towards getting rid of the bad stereotypes about you and your people?" Now golden eyes were avoiding him. The red and blue ones are burning like flames and freezing like ice at the same time. He wanted to get away and get closer all at the same time, but his body was frozen in place. France noticed his lover's distress, his eyes softened and hold loosened. He sighted and replaced his right hand from the Russian Empire's mouth to the back of his head. His left was going to pull him into a close hug, rather than the tense stare-off the two were just caught in. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, the Russian Empire decided to speak up, as his knees were starting to hurt and he didn't even wanna imagine what France felt like.
"I guess we both need some time off, don't we?" A little chuckle from each of them interrupted him.
"Let's go lay down for today love. My body is killing me right now..." France finished his like of thought. Suddenly a harsh thunder shattered their calm atmosphere, lightning illuminated the room in a garishly white light for a second or two and the rain began pounding against the window. Not even a second later Russian Empire had a curled up, tense Frenchman clinging to his jacket. He just hushed him with, whispered sweet nothings to him, as he picked him up and went to tuck them both in for the night.
Under those thick blankets their eyes met for the last time, both pairs soft and filled with emotion now. The dark circles under the Russians' eyes made France sigh, push himself up higher in the bed and press the Russian Empire's head to his chest. There was no resistance as their bodies entangled for the night. Getting as much contact as possible and sharing their warmth.
"You really need more sleep, love..."
"I'll work on that once there's peace around my borders..."
"You're incorrigible too, you know..."
"I still can't deny the truth..."
"Good night..."
"Sleep well..."
A/N
This is a picture of a shashka (in the middle). Don't mind the spelling that's how it's spelled in german.
I hope you liked this, feel free to tell me what you think!
As I said requests are still open, feel free to ask.
Have a nice day/night!