Warnings: OOC, Rating will go up, and Yaoi
Summary: AU, Prussia is a famous artist who has become attracted to one of the wealthy aristocrats that bought his artwork.
Main Pairing: Prussia/Austria
Side Pairings: Russia/America, England/France, Germany/N. Italy, Spain/S. Italy, and Switzerland/Liechtenstein
Mentioned Pairings: Prussia/Hungary, Prussia/Poland, Russia/Prussia, Switzerland/Japan, Almost Everyone/Austria, and Poland/Hungary
NOTES FOR THIS CHAPTER
1. This story takes place in Austria, please forgive my inaccuracy because I only visited Austria for about twelve days and that was about four years ago. I am writing based on my horrible memory.
2. Austria's parents are named after the last emperor and empress of Austria, in case you were wondering.
3. Austrailia to my knowledge doesn't have an official name, so his name in this fanfic is Liam Brown.
4. Monaco to my knowledge doesn't have an official name, so her name in this fanfic is Clarice Bonnefoy and she is France's little sister.
5. Belgium to my knowledge doesn't have an official name, so her name in this fanfic is Anais Jansen.
Another day of traveling two hours and forty minutes to Salzburg at six in the morning, but it is worth it for I felt it much easier to work outdoors in that city than in my home in Vienna.
My home is too small and restricting for me. I live in a small condo in Vienna that is less than a thousand square feet in total. Naturally not being a very clean person, my bedroom wasn't a tidy room. My bed is never made in an orderly fashion. I always thought it was just going to get ruffled and bunched up again once I slept, so why try to make it pretty? I didn't care that my cream colored comforter looked like a crumpled tissue. The only reason that I wished to be cleaner was sometimes it would get annoying to see my pillows laying astray on the floor in the morning because I kicked them off while I was asleep. But I always remember to set them on top of the mattress after I take a shower. Clothes laid on the floor of my bedroom just outside of the adjacent bathroom. Only when the pile had reached a height of about two feet from the floor did I bother to wash them. My nightstand also isn't clean. Random brushes of various sizes and charcoal pencils fill the drawers of the stand. On top of the nightstand is a journal, some pencils, and several photos of my younger brother and I doing different activities together such as playing football, baking, and drawing. The only thing that was tidy in my bedroom was my closet that held my brand name clothes for special events. Designer clothes that had such control in the fashion world such as Armani Collezioni, Burberry, Dolce and Gabbana, Hugo Boss, Salvatore Ferragamo, and Versace Collection, were the only things that I took care of, because they were given to me by friends and my younger brother Ludwig.
My living room wasn't as bad, probably because I didn't use it that much. There's a window that led to an escape ladder, that spiraled down to the street below. I always kept that window locked, not because I feared getting robbed but because my friends Francis and Antonio in the past had sneaked into my house through that window and ate most of the food in my fridge. It was quite irritating scraping food off my couch. I'm really attached to the couch for some reason. The tan leather couch is one of those pieces that looked out of place in my living room. My living room is my editing room. It contains several sculptures that I am working on and paintings that need to be sprayed and framed in order to preserve them. It looked like a disorganized art museum, but my couch is a reminder that it is home. The coffee table the same color as the couch, but there's a small pile of dirty dishes to wake up to. Usually I put them in the dish washer before my trip to Salzburg, but I didn't feel like following that little part in my routine.
The kitchen is an untouched part of my house. I barely used the oven and the stove. I think the only reason I have a need for such devices for when my friends came to visit and cook for me. The only thing that suffered from daily use in my kitchen was the microwave, fridge, and dishwasher. The fridge was picked out my Francis, and he chose it because it had "french doors" where the cooler was on the left and the refrigerator was on the right. The appliance was stainless steel and had black, rubber coverings on the handles to prevent my fingerprints getting on the device. My fridge was never full with food. There were some honey crisp apples, carrots, cantaloupes, and other fruits and vegetables that I would eat for snacks, microwaveable meals, and ice cream, but other than that, my fridge was empty. The microwave was made of the same stainless steel and would sometimes get dirty from use.
It was not a good environment for my creativity. I, Gilbert Beilschmidt, need something beautiful to get inspired. The one place I loved for that was Salzburg, Austria. There were many places to go in that town such as the Basilica of Pilgrimage Maria Plain and Hellbrunn Palace, but my favorite place was the Mirabell Garden and Park. I think it's because there were more places to hide people in the gardens than in the other places that I loved.
I stepped out of the train, now having finally arrived at my destination. It was steps away from the train station, not even three blocks. Still, with my large backpack with a blank canvas, a foldaway stool and stand for my canvas, a pencil, tubes of paint, and palette were quite heavy. I must have looked like a typical tourist who had packed too much stuff. I adjusted the straps, so that my left shoulder didn't have so much pressure on it. I had slept on it wrong and now there was a dull ache. Thankfully I was getting close, for I saw the Hohensalzberg Fortress and the Salzburg Dom Cathedral.
"Urgh, sometimes art can be quite a pain." I said to myself.
Finally I sat down in my usual spot in the garden, next to the statue of Hercules (Heracles is the correct name according to the Greeks). The bushes around the statue were trimmed hedges that were perfectly shaped. I breathed in the scent of the air and sighed. Cut grass and freshly bloomed roses filled my nostrils. I couldn't help another heavy sigh escape my lips, for being here in this place made my mind clear from the clutter of home. It is beauty that should always grace my presence. I propped my heavy bag onto the ground and first set up my stool. It was a little hard to get it out of the bag however, due to how full it was. It must have looked strange to not only seeing an albino man, but seeing him wrestling with a large, black bag and cursing at the object. Once I had conquered the task of getting it out, I extended the furniture's legs so that I could sit comfortably. I grabbed the canvas stand and adjusted it to the length I desired. It was set a little higher than my stool so that it was at the same height as my arms. Drawing and painting for several hours was actually much more stressful on the body one would think, so it is best to make sure to make it as comfortable and painless as possible. Soon I was ready and started penciling in preparation for the painting.
I decided that I was going to do a modern art painting with people wearing crab hats and lobster mittens. All the people would be those snotty aristocrats that were always in the news for doing nothing. They would all be in their heavy makeup, large accessories, and funny clothes. The thought made me laugh and I immediately began to work. All the penciling was easy for me, for I had been doing this for over fifteen years. The preparation only took an hour to do, and soon I was painting. So far I had painted a woman with navy blue skin, dark green lips, and aquamarine hair. I was trying to make the lobsters and crabs more cohesive. The people and the background behind them were going to have cool colors such as blues, greens, and purples, while the lobsters and crabs were their natural red. From far away, it would look like a simple, oceanic painting but up close would be the creative idea that was in my head. I want to evoke some sort of reaction or emotion in my piece, for if an artist cannot do that than he is a terrible artist.
As I was finishing my work, I heard the irritating sound of a couple laughing. I sighed, but I knew I couldn't do anything. This was a park that was open to the public. But if I could, I would kick them out because only awesome people like me should be allowed in such a place.
Another fit of laughter. I was annoyed and turned to see what they were doing that was so joyous.
It was a man and woman clinging together, probably enjoying some sort of corny joke.
They looked like a rich couple due to their attire. The woman looked to be about five foot, nine inches tall, but she is wearing heels so I could have been off by an inch or two. Her eyes from the distance looked to be a dark green, the same color as some of the bushes that surrounded the garden. Her bangs were in the way, but I could tell that she had a heart shaped face, a shape that was very feminine. High cheek bones and a slightly pointed chin made her not only attractive, but approachable and friendly. Her slim figure also helped, and her small waist made a beautiful hourglass shape that everyone desired in a woman. The girl's long, brunette hair draped her back and flowed down to her skinny waist as well, bringing even more attention to her lovely asset. I don't know if she was the type of girl who liked to match things or she loved the dress, but she wore a green dress that was almost the same shade of green as her eyes. The neckline was a V-neck which showed off her ample bosom and the rest of the dress was fitted to her body nicely down to the knee. Due to my friendship with Antonio, visiting many of Spanish man's fashion shows, and the sheen that the dress had in the sunlight, the dress is probably a satin or a silk material.
I was instantly attracted to her. So much so that I could feel the heat of my body concentrating in my cheeks. It probably made my face look bright red like an apple. To calm myself down, I decided to see the man that was lucky to get such a beautiful woman.
Her companion looked to be the perfect description of a wealthy aristocrat. The kind that looks like he has the whole world at his fingertips. The kind I hate. He has wavy hair that was dark brown, almost black. Unlike France's waves, his waves are delicate and framed his face that made him a pretty-boy type of handsome. I never found glasses to be attractive, but the thin metal frames seemed to accent the man's face. His eyes are violet, an unusual color that I've only seen in two people in my entire life, but his eyes are a true violet that one would see in a rainbow. The color so pure that it was hard to believe it was natural. The man is a bit thinner than I am, but he had broad shoulders for his petite body. He wore a crisp white shirt that had a decorative jabot. Like his glasses, the jabot accented the simple shirt and its clean lines. Over that, he had a dark indigo jacket that was fitted just as the woman's dress, and slick, black trousers that went made a straight line from the hip down to his feet.
She was too good for him. To me, he looks like just another rich boy who wants a hot trophy wife to show off. I don't know why, but I could just feel that she was more than that.
I returned to my painting, finishing it with my initials in black paint on the bottom. I smirked at my masterpiece. Who knows what museum will want this lovely creation? Maybe Leopold Museum or MUMOK, but I will decide on that later.
"That is a lovely painting, quite amusing too." A feminine voice said from my right. The lovely woman from afar was right beside me. It was then that I saw on her left hand was an large, diamond engagement ring. A simple princess cut that was probably over seven carats. Yeah, the boyfriend was rich all right.
"Thank you lovely woman. It's nice to get a compliment from someone like you." I'm suave, what can I say? She looked at me with closer examination and her eyes brightened up.
"You're Gilbert Beilschmidt! The new artist that they compare to the great Salvador Dali." Her recognition made me estatic. I glanced at her companion, expecting some sort of jealousy or any other reaction from the man. There was nothing. He held no interest at all. In fact, he stared off bored, looking at the Hercules statue with eyes glazed. What an irritating bastard.
Suddenly I remembered his identity. The man's name is Roderich Edelstein, son of a wealthy duke named Charles Edelstein and his wife Zita. Ever since he had turned eighteen though, he had been in the press for more than his millions. The boy has an arranged marriage to a girl from a prominent family, Elizaveta Hedervary, but he was sleeping with anything that moved. Heck, Francis' boyfriend Arthur Kirkland, a journalist, had caught the man with Liam Brown, Clarice Bonnefoy, Anais Jansen, and even one of his best friends Francis Bonnefoy! Too bad that the list didn't end with four people. There was Antonio Carriedo (apparently his best friends liked aristocrats), Berwald Oxenstierna, Tino Vanaimoinen, Eduard von Bock, Heracles Karpusi, and many others. Heck, even Arthur Kirkland, the journalist that he recently became friends with, had slept with Edelstein a couple of times. I didn't know what was more amazing, the supposed stamina that the young man possessed or that he was out of bed enjoying the sunlight. It was different seeing the wealthy man with a shirt on for once. My smirk got wider and I finally realized that this girl was the one who stuck through all ten years of public affairs and humiliating scandals. She probably actually believed that crap about him being finally serious about her and thought him not having an affair for four months was a sign that he changed.
I thought of a little something to entertain myself and see if I could get a reaction from the duke's son.
"Yes, I am Gilbert Beilschmidt. I'm glad that you recognize me." I was a little louder this time, to try to get the rich boy's attention. Still nothing. He didn't acknowledge my existence!
"Tell me my dear, do you want my painting for free?" I said, trying to act like gentleman to get him to notice. This got his attention.
"That is quite unnecessary, I am able to afford it for her if Elizaveta desires it."
"Oh Roderich, don't be so harsh. He isn't doing any harm." She was so kind. It was going to be hard to do this, but I knew it was worth it.
"Yes my dear, you may have the painting. It is only gratis however, only if you dump that cheating fiance of yours and see me more often." Now I watch my magic and wait. Oh I couldn't wait to see that Edelstein guy blow up.
"How dare you!" She yelled and slapped me across the face. I was so shocked that I fell off my stool. My butt hit the ground and I winced in pain. I looked up to quite a scary sight, especially since the young woman was so pleasant before. Elizaveta's face was quickly turning from pale cream to hot, fiery red. Her arms that were slender were now bulging and her hands looked as if they were ready to choke the life out of me. The bottom half of her dress was threatening to rip from the tense muscles in her thighs. She stalked closer to me and leaned down. There were veins that tensed and almost popped out of her neck. It wasn't the reaction I expected. Usually women acted much more positively to my flirting. But I guessed I deserved it. After all, if a girl is willing to deal with a man having twenty-one documented and well known affairs before they are even married must be in love.
"He's not like that anymore! He promised me." She stomped off, her heels sometimes getting caught in the plush lawn of the garden. I turned to see if Roderich had the same reaction, but he just looked at me with a strange look. Curiosity? It was hard to tell, but it made me feel uncomfortable. I stood up and sat on my stool, trying to ignore his stare but it was getting annoying seeing his shadow cast over my artwork.
"What do you want priss?"
"How much for the painting?" He asked. It was strange how he lost that snobbish tone in his voice so quickly. Also, why would he want a painting from an artist that upset his future wife?
"It's not for sale unless you have five thousand euros on-" Before I could finish my sentence, a wad of money was thrown on my lap. I took the money out of it's clip and found out that he had indeed paid five thousand euros at once. His eyes didn't focus on the painting he just bought, but me. What game was he playing?
"Whatever, here you go you pansy." And handed him the painting. His expression didn't change.
"I like stubborn people. I think it is why I have such admiration for Elizaveta."
"Okay..." What was he getting at?
"I think I will be seeing more of you, artist."
"My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt pansy. Remember that name." I commanded.
"I'm sure I will," and he walked away.
End of Chapter 1
Yay! My first Prussia/Austria fanfic. But um, it's a little odd to make Austria such a... well, (because there are no better words) a man whore. I want to try to see if this kind of Roderich is too OOC. Plus, I am not in the mood to write more of Russia/America right now.
Read and Review please!