Esmeralda stood against the smoldering heat of late summer, making her way to go and purchase medicine for Lovino who had somehow caught the flu. The burning heat didn't bother as much as it should have, always being one to spend every second she could outside. She strolled down the cobblestone streets, smiling back at everyone who was kind enough to greet her. She adored everything about the country of Spain, its sights, culture, the sunny sky and passionate citizens...the man himself. She grinned to herself, she especially liked the man who represented the country.
Back at the house, Lovino lay in his bed, groaning with a cold rag on his face, only getting up to hurl into the trash bin Esmeralda set before him. Antonio checked in on the poor Italian every once in a while, bringing him water and changing the rag. He liked to think that he and Esmeralda were a married couple, with the Southern Italian as their beautiful demon spawn, even if Romano was older than his female colony.
Spain rummaged around, wine glass in hand and a tired expression on his usually cheery face. He picked up a couple of dirty dishes that were left lying around and placed them back in the kitchen, deciding to wash them later or wait for Esmeralda to do it. His helpful servants were long gone since they were no longer needed due to Esmeralda's obsession with organization and cooking. All by herself, with a little help here and there, she was able to keep the entire estate polished and habitable, while bringing dinner to Antonio and Lovino. She was the hardest worker Antonio has ever seen and it baffled him completely. He cooked every once in a while, but he found it hard to beat Esmeralda to the act.
The Spanish nation was beginning to lean to his bitter side as of recently. He was exhausted and drank more than he needed to. There would be days when he didn't eat and made his restless lover sleep in with him all day where she would spend hours staring up at the ceiling and fidget around wide awake while trapped under the strong arm of the man sleeping soundly next to her. Antonio would walk around, dragging his feet as he did so, with a stressed face and cold, distant eyes.
His years spent involved in the Seven Years War took a lot out of him, being a leading participant. This whole century was hard for Spain and it took total and complete effect on its representative. He was able to reclaim his territories in America, but that small victory was honestly the last thing he cared about, though his boss made a huge deal out of it. The king had been influenced by the Enlightenment, making major changes here and there that only created tension between Spain's nobles and the king. Such changes included abolishing Antonio's beloved Spanish Inquisition.
Things had slowly started to settle, he was done with Hapsburg and things should have lightened up, but they only down spiraled. He also couldn't help but notice that he was beginning to struggle economically while England continued to prance around mocking him. The stress had first began to take over Antonio with the war of his succession, but he managed to remain happy and healthy even though the experience was extremely tedious. He stopped going to the victory parties and instead went straight home to crash on the couch, one night even pushing Romano off the couch so he could lay there himself; even though there was another couch in the room.
Hapsburg was the thing that finally crushed him and drained him of every last energy he had left. Countless visits to Austria, only to come back home feeling pathetic and weak for the first time in his mighty life. He could slowly feel his spot as one of the biggest powers on Earth slip away from his hands. In all honesty, he was glad to be finished with the disputes between countries and kings, but he continued to drag himself through the day, drinking to wash away the headache that made a home behind his green eyes, only to have the pain increase as he found himself unable to get drunk no matter how many bottles of wine he went through. Esmeralda caught on quickly to his stress inflicted depression, doing whatever she could to help him. This included having to hide his money so he wouldn't waste it all on alcohol. When he got angry or frustrated over his thoughts, she would take him by the hand and tucked him into bed. He never protested but he did refuse to let her leave, pulling her down onto the bed and cooing her to make love with him, holding her with careful hands and whispering sweet nothings into her ear until she complied. This happened just about every single day. On the days it didn't happen, it was because either Esmeralda or Lovino would find the Spaniard passed out on the couch or floor, paper work and letters scattered around him and an empty bottle of wine.
Lovino was quickly getting fed up with the other's behavior and started hiding the wine in his room, but that didn't last long since Antonio found out and the two had the loudest argument Esmeralda has ever heard. The argument effected Lovino heavily, the Spaniard never yelled at him and he shrunk in the other's rage with scared eyes. Esmeralda had to do quite some mediating between the two and Spain felt guilty, only adding to his problems.
He heard a knock on his front door, tearing him away from his thoughts. He deciding to ignore it, but it wouldn't stop. He set his wine down and with a low grumble, made his way to the large double doors, opening them to reveal a handsome France, basking in some sort of glory that Spain couldn't bring himself to care about. Had it been someone else, he would've closed the door in his face, but it was Francis and he hadn't seen him since Hapsburg. France's grin disappeared onto one of worry when he took in the sight of his friend, disgruntled with weary eyes and his expressionless face.
"Mon ami...you don't look so good. Is everything alright?" the Frenchman asked, his charming accent ringing in Spain's ears.
"I'm tired" was his gruff answer, his voice almost coming out in a grunt.
Francis gave him a skeptical look. "Oui, and then some non?" he saw right through his friend and could tell it was more than a need for sleep.
Spain looked around and went back into the house, leaving the door open so France could follow him in. By the time France had closed the door softly, Antonio was already pouring two glasses of wine. He handed France his, who took the glass gracefully.
"Ah, you always take such good care of me Antonio" he joked, savoring the wine and Spain allowed a soft smile to appear on his lips.
"So how'd it go?" Spain asked before Francis could get on his case about his stupor. He knew exactly where Francis had been for the past couple of years, though he kept his mouth shut about it. His voice was serious, crossing his arms across his chest as best as he could with a glass in his hand.
France instantly lit up. "Oh Antonio, it was absolutely glorious. I wish you couldv'e seen it!" Spain rose an eyebrow and France continued, animated and in awe with a sparkle in his eye. "The boy's determination and strength is outstanding! I tell you mon ami, this boy is destined for greatness. Oui, you should have seen the way he fought for his freedom along with his army. Can you believe it? His army was made up of a bunch of men who had no war experience, they were so amateur! It was quite the sight watching these men going against Arthur's professionals. It was truly inspiring, simply beautiful seeing Alfred and his men refuse to step down. Definitely a war that would go down in history with a legend" he nodded, taking a sip of his wine.
Spain grimaced, "Is he independent or what?" his question came out sharply, a dark undertone hidden in his voice.
France nodded enthusiastically. "Oui! Young Alfred is now an independent country, vowing to bring freedom to people and make dreams come true. He's quite the young man, very impressive"
Spain's grip on his glass tightened. Part of him wanted to laugh, finding pleasure in the fact that England had lost his most valued colony to some amateur's and Francis, but he also loathed the idea that the young nation was so great and free. "Don't tell Esmeralda" he suddenly said, cold eyes looking to the floor.
"What? Why not? I figured it'd cheer her up to hear such good news about her old friend" France eyed his friend with a quizzical glance.
Spain's eyes snapped back up to look at France. "I don't care. Don't. Fucking. Tell her" he didn't need Esmeralda knowing that her past flame was walking free and was now a nation. He didn't need her thinking about the blond man with large dreams. He didn't need her trying to contact him or the other trying to visit. He worked so hard to finally gain his colony's love and he hid every single letter the American had attempted to send to Esmeralda. He'd rush to the post and then shut himself in his study to sort out through them. He hid all of them. The one's from Alfred and the ones concerning her home land.
"Oh...well alright then. I suppose I can fulfill your wish" the Frenchman sighed and finished his drink. "Antonio..." he began softly, looking up at the Spaniard with a cautious eye. Spain stared back, signaling him to go on. "I took upon the liberty of visiting New Spain after the victory. I was curious to see how it was doing under your care and honestly mon ami, I did not like what I saw" he shook his head, averting his eyes so he didn't see Spain's stare darken as he narrowed his eyes.
"What do you mean?" his voice was smooth, but cold as ice.
"I mean what I say Antonio. The land is beautiful and her people are hard working with large wonderful families and the cities are simply breath taking" indeed France liked what he saw on the outside and Spain's influence ran deep.
"But?" Antonio raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall.
"But, her wonderful people are treated so horribly by your men. They are basically savages in your soldiers eyes! Yes, they are being taught Spanish and religion, but they are forced to dig up gold for your men only to die or lose everything after the soldiers got what they wanted! It's a horrible sight Antonio! I have seen natives getting kicked out of their lovely homes just because a Spaniard wanted to live there. I have seen your men laughing and pushing a starving man to his limits. The poverty is unbelievable Antonio!" France's eyes were horror filled and his voice was quiet. "Allow me to put in my opinion but that is not the way you treat the land of the woman you love!"
Spain sent a glare at the last part, sending horrid shivers down France's spine. "It's my land as well. In fact, it's more mine than it is her's. I deal with my colonies the way I want and you deal with yours the way you desire Francis".
Francis shook his head. "Indeed. You treat the woman so well, but tear down her land with greedy men. Love is special, and I'm surprised to see you treat her land no better than all your other colonies. It's as if you only love the person but don't care about the actual landmass"
"She is special and I do love her. And let me remind you that if I hadn't fallen in love with her land first, she wouldn't be here" Antonio snapped quickly, his knuckles turning white against the now empty glass.
"Well your men clearly don't see what you do if that's the case. Pay attention to what's going on over there Antonio, please. We all know your men are only there for the gold and greed and I suggest you do something about it before her people can't take any of it and fight for revolution, even with out her consent" France didn't back down, he wanted to be heard. He was rarely this serious, so Antonio knew he meant business.
The Spaniard mulled his thoughts over before speaking. "Do you think...that even though her people do gain independence for her...she wont leave me will she?" his voice almost croaked, his eyes returning their usual softness.
France gave a light smile and patted his friends shoulder. "If she loves you, she'll work things out. She's a smart girl Antonio, keep that in mind. Just don't break her heart because if you do, she will leave. Trust is important in a relationship mon ami. I see the passion between you two, but passion is both a strong and delicate matter at the same time. She can only forgive you for so much" and with that, he set his glass down, said goodbye and escorted himself out.
Spain sat down and scratched at his curls. France was right and he knew it, but there was nothing he could do except for love her and that's exactly what he did. He couldn't change his soldiers greed, they would still be forced to make the natives their slaves to dig up gold. Even if he asked them to treat them nicely, which he did, he knew his usual loyal soldiers would go behind his back. Besides, even though his greed was replaced with love, he needed her gold. Desperately.