A Taste Of Payback

Money Brings Out the Worst in the Best

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.