A/N: Threeshot, and the third chapter is 1/3 done, so this will not detract from ongoing works. originally done because I lost a bet with my then-muse.

For diehard Hetalia fans, I have only watched the first season of the show. Gilbert didn't feature in it that much, maybe a total of 10-20 seconds. This is my interpretation of what I saw, what I subsequently read, etc. This is fic #4 in my Hetalia series, information for which is on the Facebook page. There are 9 fics in all, three of which are already posted.

Nascence

Chapter 1

He didn't think there were many people who would believe that he spent most of his time reading. None who knew him, anyway. That was the catch, though, many of the people who thought they knew him, really didn't. He enjoyed the utter silence of his predominately empty palatial estate, and the feeling that he existed in a void. He could pretend that he alone existed in all the world. And if he was the only one in existence, it mattered not if he was fallen from greatness. One who was alone was great unto one's self. He had everything, if he was alone, and there was none to take anything from him. Content, he turned a page of his book, reading of days long past.

Knocking.

Gilbert looked up and over his reading glasses, toward his door. No one came to his part of the mansion. And if they did, it was only Dieter coming to roll a trolley containing food to it, something too heavy to be sent up through the dumb waiter. This was invariably done during daylight hours. No one ever disturbed him at night. Listening, he heard whispers.

"Maybe he's sleeping?"

"My brother grew up on the battlefield. He rarely sleeps." More knocking, hard enough to rattle the solid wooden door.

"Maybe this is the wrong door?"

"I admit, we did get lost three turns back, but I'm sure this is his room." Another round of knocking, then a voice raised in command. "Gilbert, open this door!"

"How does someone get lost in their own home?"

"I thought we agreed not to mention that again? I told you I hardly come to this wing of the house…"

"I still think we should come back in the morning. These halls are creepy at night."

It was almost funny. Feliciano's meek and soft voice, Ludwig's harsh and gruff one. He shut his book with a snap and dropped it on his chair as he stood. He crossed the room to yank open his door just as that fist was coming down again. "What."

They had disgustingly cheerful expressions on their faces. Well, Feliciano did. Ludwig just looked determined, as usual. The Italian, he could forgive. His brother, on the other hand…

"The world meeting is tomorrow," Ludwig intoned.

"So?"

"So I was given to understand that you planned to attend, but are now backing out?"

Gilbert felt a small smile settle around his mouth. He loved being the one to put that frown of displeasure on Ludwig's face, but he could see where this was going. Sliding his eyes to where Feliciano huddled in meek apology at his brother's side, he thought he understood what had happened.

Last week, ole West (a name he used when he was annoyed with his brother) had come back from wherever he'd run away to, and made up with Feliciano. No doubt, the Italian had informed Ludwig of the meeting and his own intent to attend if Ludwig was absent. Ludwig knew very well that wild horses couldn't drag him to one of those infernal meetings these days. But for the risk of Germany going unrepresented, he most certainly wouldn't have bothered.

To Ludwig, though, it was an opportunity to get him out of the house, and perhaps engaged in 'healthy pursuits' once again. His younger brother thought he drank too much, and spent too much time alone. Ludwig feared for his sanity, Gilbert knew. He couldn't say the fear was unfounded; the effort of trying to maintain an even keel in these new waters called modern times was becoming increasingly difficult…and each year he felt himself sinking just a little more.

Ludwig was aware of this too. His concern was touching, but aggravating. "What I do or don't do is my business," Gilbert said now. "Go fuck your Italian some more." He moved to shut his door in their faces.

Ludwig blocked with one hand, and shouldered his way into the room. Feliciano followed at his heels. "Gilbert, please," Ludwig said in a tone striving to be reasonable. "Going to one meeting won't hurt."

"That's easy for you to say." Gilbert ran his eyes up and down his brother's long body in derision. "You're not a pity magnet, now are you? You know your place in the world. You have a place in the world. You belong. I don't. And now that you've gotten me to sound like a resentful, pouting puppy, get the fuck out." He planted a hand on Ludwig's chest and shoved. Ludwig, he was satisfied to see, went sprawling out into the hall. "And stay out." He slammed the door for good measure.

Feliciano was still standing in the room he saw when he'd turned from the door. Gilbert considered his serious expression. It never ceased to amaze him how seldom that young face wore any expression of gravity. The eyes were normally squinted in happiness, distress, or high excitement of some kind. When Feliciano was serious, though…ah, then his eyes became visible, and the sight of them now halted Gilbert's demand for him to leave as well. Such an unusual golden brown, those eyes.

"I think you should go to the meeting," Feliciano said quietly. "Nothing puts unwanted pity to rest like displaying how undeserving you are of the pity to begin with. Go. Show everyone how vitally strong you still are. I'll stand by you, if you wish. And that's not pity," he said quickly. "It's friendship. Solidarity. Please, Gilbert?"

How could he possibly resist those large golden eyes? Especially when they were growing larger by the second? The meek attitude had his loins stirring; it had been too long since he'd had a decent hunt. Feliciano would make for delectable prey, he was sure. He smirked. "Fine. Just so you know, though, if you come in here begging and pleading like that again, I'll be only too happy to repay West for using you as his plan B. He won't like me sampling what's his, trust me." At the alarmed look in Feliciano's eyes, Gilbert's smile widened. "What, didn't think I recognized the strategy? Taught that jackass everything he knows."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Feliciano stammered awkwardly. His eyes were slits again in his discomfort at being found out. He tried to walk past Gilbert quickly in an effort to leave. Gilbert stopped him with a hand on his arm. Feliciano quailed visibly as the red-eyed man leaned close to his face.

"A taste of me and you'll forget all about West," Gilbert promised breathily. He let his eyes drop to the tremulous mouth thoughtfully. He quite liked the younger man's fright. It was exciting to him. "I don't like being manipulated. Understood?"

Feliciano nodded frantically, close to whimpering. He wrenched his arm away, practically ran for the door, and hastily threw it open. Ludwig was stationed outside, waiting alertly, Gilbert was unsurprised to see. Feliciano ran into his arms and allowed himself to be soothed.

Gilbert caught his brother's eye. "Anything else, asshole?"

Ludwig shook his head, not the slightest bit abashed at being caught utilizing such underhanded tactics. "Be ready at five." He pulled a shivering Feliciano down the hall with him and out of sight.

Five of the clock the following morning saw the Adler-Trumpf Ludwig owned packed with Ludwig himself, Feliciano, Kiku, Antonio, and Gilbert. It moved down the long drive of the Beilschmidt property in stately fashion, and exited the estate grounds.

He slept during most of the 15-hour drive. He was roughly elbowed awake by Antonio as that man climbed over him and out of the back seat. He shoved his long-time friend back reflexively, and felt that Antonio's inelegant sprawl into a rain puddle was an excellent way to greet the coming nightmare of this meeting. He made it a point to trod on him on his way out of the vehicle himself, and ignored the furious flurry of roared Spanish as he calmly straightened his collar. He had a vague notion that Antonio had been in a bad mood ever since some encounter he'd had with Lovino the previous week. He cared not at all, but if the Spaniard wanted to make an issue of things, Gilbert would be more than willing to oblige him. He was spoiling for a fight.

Apparently Antonio knew this. He shut his mouth, and stormed past Gilbert with a venomous glance.

Kiku and Feliciano kept far away from Gilbert as he retrieved his valise from the trunk. Ludwig merely set his mouth in a line, probably expecting to be embarrassed and ashamed of his brother, as he usually was whenever they were together in public. Served the bastard right. Gilbert had said he didn't want to come. He was here, so now they could all damn well deal with any behavior he chose to exhibit.

-oOo-

Following the uniformed serving woman to their quarters, though, he had to re-think his attitude. It was easy to fall into the habit of childish and brash behavior he typically displayed when around the other representatives; it hid the deep wound of his own current land-less status. But it wasn't who he was, not anymore. He ran his eyes over the tall windows, and endless halls of yet another representative's castle and felt a sudden, bone-deep weariness for his life.

-oOo-

Ludwig and Feliciano were given a room. He, Kiku, and Antonio were given another. Antonio left immediately. Kiku retired to the bed and proceeded to sleep. Gilbert snorted softly at seeing this, but thought that in the end, having a roommate who turned in early would work out fine. He tended to stay up most nights anyway, and if there was no one to bug him, the annoyance of sharing a room should prove to be minimal. Antonio, he wasn't worried about. That man would likely spend most of his time outside the room, and only return to it to change. Born lecher, Antonio was. He just wasn't as obvious about it as Francis.

He stood by the window, (honestly, which nation was hosting the meeting this time? Hell, where were they? What was this meeting even about?) and stared out at where it was raining yet again. There weren't many lamps on the castle grounds; all he was able to really see was his reflection in the dark window, back dropped by the rain on the glass. He studied his eyes, dark in this lighting, and the way the rain made it seem as if he was crying. He stared at himself for a long time, oddly comfortable with the false reflection…possibly because it didn't feel false.

The following day was excruciating.

Unable to sleep or read, he'd sat and stared at the rain until his brother's knock on the door had roused him. He'd looked around to find Ludwig poking his head around the door. "Meeting begins at nine." He'd retreated and shut the door quietly. Kiku was already up and dressed, and now sat reading. Antonio could be heard in the bath.

At ten to nine, Ludwig came and collected them. He led their little procession down the long hall. Feliciano walked beside Ludwig and to his right, while he himself walked at his brother's left. Kiku and Antonio brought up the rear. Ludwig almost marched, his right arm coming up whenever his left heel hit the floor. They all presented quite a picture of strength. Their footfalls were the muted sound of power on the deep red runner carpet that ran the length of the hall. The large windows that lined the wall to their left cast bright light on them, further enhancing the aura of influence they gave off. Glancing at Ludwig from the corner of his eye, Gilbert was hit with pride and a rare feeling of love. It had the effect of briefly swallowing his dread at the coming meeting; he almost felt as if his life after his fall was a nightmare that he'd woken from, and now everything was returned to the way it should be.

-oOo-

Upon entering the conference room, the babbling conversation died down a bit as their party was taken in. Smiles were cast their way. Nods were sent toward Ludwig, Feliciano, Antonio. Some bowed to Kiku. Gilbert was studied fleetingly, before eyes slid away from him in dismissal or hastily concealed pity.

Francis got up and came to him, greeted him with kisses to both cheeks, as Gilbert took in the fact that no extra seat had been placed at the long conference table. Nor were there any available chairs elsewhere in the room. He saw Ludwig sitting down, bending his head to someone who'd asked him a question.

Throwing on his trademark grin came as easily as it ever did, even if it didn't quite fit anymore. "Don't act so surprised to see me," he replied to Francis's question. "You babies still need to be schooled once in awhile."

"Indeed," Francis tittered. "Still, I'd have thought-"

Gilbert tuned out what was said, already looking for an escape. People were starting to stare at him the longer he stood so conspicuously. The eyes were sad or contemptuous or indifferent. Why had he come here? He'd known it would be like this.

Francis tried to pull him toward the table, while signaling for a servant to bring a chair. Ludwig looked up, saw him, and beckoned him. Gilbert declined, but Ludwig frowned and got up. He took the chair the servant had at last arrived with and forced it between his own and Feliciano's, causing representatives to either side of them to make room. He gestured forcibly for Gilbert to sit, while Feliciano smiled in encouragement.

Conversation stopped altogether. Alfred let out a loud laugh, and started to ask what was the meaning of this, but Ludwig shot him an icy glance that shut the American up. The glance was shared around the table, until each pair of eyes found something else to occupy them. Ludwig grunted in satisfaction.

Gilbert sat. He stared at a spot somewhere on the far wall, trying not to feel too touched by his brother's defense of him, or by the light hand Feliciano briefly rested on his arm. The very worst part of his fall was how he was going soft. Words couldn't express how abhorrent his life had become.

The meeting was called to order.

He was duly ignored throughout, which suited him. Heinous as it was, he preferred it to the condescending smugness he received whenever people addressed him these days. He figured he'd give it an hour, before quietly excusing himself. In the meantime, he dropped his eyes to the representatives around the table and indulged himself in a private round of active, hatred-tinged envy for the status they enjoyed. They were here by right, not invited to tag along. Alfred was particularly loathsome. Gilbert sneered at the loud bastard long and hard while the fool went on and on about whatever the topic of the meeting was.

By chance, his eyes fell on someone at Alfred's side who also sat in silence amidst the many voices clamoring to be heard. Having seen him now, he was hard to miss. He was the only one, besides himself, not offering an opinion. The person sat perfectly still, hands in his lap. He didn't appear to be following the meeting, which was also interesting. Who was he? His placement suggested that he was an American ally or…wait. Didn't Alfred have a brother? Gilbert's eyes narrowed the faintest bit as he combed through information in his memory. Yes. Canada was closely aligned to America. If this brother represented that nation, that would make the silent man quite powerful.

Gilbert let his gaze take in as much as possible. This wasn't much, considering that the man was sitting. He tried to attach a name to the plain features and found that he couldn't. He settled for watching closely instead.

The features were as generic as Alfred's, but more…something. Gilbert searched for a word and couldn't come up with one. How the Canadian representative's looks were more, he didn't know, just that they were more than Alfred's. The neat attire, composed expression, and motionlessness were at odds with what little Gilbert knew. In his experience, those who were strong made sure to let others know it. They didn't sit meekly while being ignored.

That was puzzling. He slid his eyes around the table, but saw no one at all who appeared to realize anyone was sitting next to Alfred. Not even the ones close to Alfred paid any mind to the slight blond man next to the blustering American. What was more, the man seemed to take this as his due. Gilbert stared at him, his interest piqued.

Matthew took in what was said around him without necessarily paying attention. Enough to keep abreast of current events. He filed away issues brought up and resolved, as well as ones that seemed to circle without finding an amicable agreement. He kept his thoughts to himself. He was never heard, never acknowledged, and so was content to sit through these obligatory summits.

Sometime after the meeting had begun, he felt an odd sensation. He looked up and around the table discreetly, wondering if someone had made a threat. Such a thing wasn't unheard of; tempers were on short leashes during these gatherings, and often one hothead or another would issue a threat that invariably brought the simmering tempers to a boil. He hadn't heard anything that could be termed a threat, but-

His eyes skipped over the guy before coming back to him immediately. With a thrill of surprise he realized that the man was looking at him. Directly at him. On purpose. He realized that the strange feeling stemmed from this stare, and stared back in turn.

It was the one who'd come in with Ludwig's group. Matthew had a rather detailed way of filing information away, and so came up with a name after a few seconds of thought. Gilbert, representative of the fallen nation of Prussia, and Ludwig's brother. Matthew could not recall ever seeing him in person, but his blue uniform was recognizable from history lessons. He tilted his head quizzically, thinking the man wanted to tell him something. Gilbert was at least seven or eight seats down the table and on the opposite side, too far for speech, but perhaps…?

They shared the eye contact for nearly a full minute. At last, Gilbert looked away. Matthew deflated somewhat, before realizing that his pulse was still slightly elevated from the brief exchange. He slowly returned his eyes to the glass of water that sat in front of him, wondering what Gilbert had seen in him to warrant the stare. No one ever noticed him, and on the rare occasions that anyone did, it was a quick double-take; surprise at his presence, before he was quickly forgotten again. That Gilbert had noticed him at all was unnerving, not only thrilling, but then to stare for so long…

He snuck another quick peek in Gilbert's direction and found the man looking at him again. Gilbert dropped his eyes once more, peeked, then leaned over to Ludwig and murmured something in his ear. A moment later, Gilbert stood, cast another seemingly casual glance Matthew's way, and strolled from the room. Matthew's eyes followed him out.

The meeting broke for lunch shortly after one. A buffet was set up in the room next to the conference room, but Matthew felt like he needed some air. Once outside, a servant handed him a glass of some kind of fruit cordial typically served after meals. He took it, but didn't drink. His eyes were caught by the tall hedge maze that dominated the southern half of the estate. He made his way toward it, enjoying the brisk wind. He hoped that any further rain held off until he'd had a chance to explore the maze.

-oOo-

He enjoyed the greenery. Every other corner in the maze was adorned by an enormous topiary of some animal indigenous to the region. He took his time, ambling through the tall growth, bending to smell flowers that grew here and there on the hedge walls. While he walked, his thoughts returned repeatedly to Gilbert, if that was his name, and the way he'd stared at him.

Maybe his curiosity was indecent, but he dearly wanted to know what had made him stand out to Gilbert when to everyone else he was all but invisible. He wasn't shy. He would ask, if the opportunity presented itself. For now…

His train of thought was completely derailed when he turned a corner and found Gilbert himself leaning against a hedge wall.

-oOo-

Escape from the conference room hadn't been enough. He'd been lured outside, and drawn to the hedge maze. Almost at once, the pressure he'd felt in the castle rolled off his shoulders. He'd finally been able to draw a deep breath, before striding off in search of solitude. The maze looked promising. He just wanted to be alone, completely alone, without the possibility of interruption. It had rained again while the meeting was in session, so it was unlikely that anyone but him would want to go tramping through the wet maze.

Once inside, he employed the simple means of following one wall and a series of calculated turns to find himself at its center. He went through the entire thing a couple of times, locating the exit in short order, before settling down to wander through the maze aimlessly. Thunder boomed distantly, and the day's clouds darkened, but no more rain fell. After awhile, he chose a section of wall and leaned back against it. He watched the slowly roiling clouds being churned by the wind and breathed deeply.

He didn't hear anything, so much as pick up on the feel of being watched. Without turning his head he recognized, from the periphery of his vision, the man he'd been staring at earlier. He kept his eyes skyward, waiting to see if the man would leave. When he didn't, he slowly turned his head to give him an intimidating look; he was intent on retrieving his pleasant solitude.

Up close, the eyes were arresting. A hazy violet. A color that misled one into thinking the man who owned them was dull, but their intensity quickly disabused one of that notion. It wasn't an overt intensity either, just a directness, a refusal to look away, that hinted at steel in the spine. Quiet this man might be, but it would be wrong to underestimate him, Gilbert suspected. He sensed that many people made this mistake. The desire to intimidate was replaced by interest. He turned toward the man completely, so that his shoulder now leaned on the prickly hedge wall, instead of his back. He returned the gaze frankly, and was slightly awed to discover that the generic looks sparked a tiny attraction. Not really the looks, but the manner, the sense of hidden strength. And the looks. He could gaze into those eyes forever.

The silence lengthened and Gilbert raised a sardonic brow, challenging the man to speak first.

-oOo-

Matthew held a brief argument with himself upon discovering Gilbert. Go or stay? Frozen with indecision, he'd remained where he was until Gilbert turned to look at him.

The face was that of an older gentlemen, somewhat roughly hewn, but classically handsome. The faint lines around the mouth and running down from either side of the nose did nothing to diminish that. If anything, it emphasized the man's handsomeness. The age, coupled with the youthfully muscled body and easy movements, spoke of potent virility.

Caught staring, Matthew took a step closer when Gilbert turned toward him, offering a smile. He gestured with the forgotten glass of cordial in his hand. "I apologize for intruding. I…"

A small smile joined the lifted brow. "Yes? You what?"

Matthew gave a low chuckle, embarrassed at the bold gaze, and inwardly elated. The incident at the conference table had been no fluke, then. This person really saw him as worthy of attention. He had to duck his head. "I'm sorry. You probably want to be alone." He turned to leave.

"I could say the same for you," Gilbert said when the younger man had walked several steps. He folded his arms when the violet eyes found his again. "One doesn't come into this maze seeking companionship."

Matthew hesitated. "I didn't mean to intrude-"

"But you have." Gilbert took a perverse pleasure in flustering the man. As he straightened from the wall and moved toward him, he found that the spark had grown. It was too soon yet to tell if this man could be prey. Possibly. If he was willing, and not too timid. Timid was good, but excessive reticence had never been a turn-on for him. Hence the pull he felt toward this man…that sense of deep steel in the guy was hard to shake, despite his stammering and blushes. "Now that you're here you might as well stay," he said as he reached him. His eyes fell on the glass the guy held absently. Those violet orbs gazed up at him behind thin spectacles. "You going to drink that?"

Matthew jumped slightly at feeling the glass taken from him. It was gulped in two swallows, and dropped. During all this he did not take his eyes off that square-jawed face.

He'd seen albinos before. Not many, but enough to know that they all had bright pink or red eyes that were the very color of blood, and that tended to jitter in the sockets. Gilbert's eyes were the deep red of rich wine, and did not jitter. Nor was his hair white, but a pale, silvery blond that looked iron gray in this dull light. He was only a few inches taller, but quite solidly built.

An imposing, impressive man, Matthew concluded. He wasn't sure why the relentless stare continued to unnerve him. He wet his lips. "Are you called Gilbert?" he asked. He was proud of his steady voice.

Gilbert inclined his head. "And you are?"

"Matthew Williams. At your service." He held up his hand.

"Matthew." Gilbert closed his hand around the proffered one and squeezed gently. He did not let go immediately. "I'm flattered you know my name. Not many do anymore."

"Not many people consider me noticeable," Matthew replied. "I guess I understand your surprise."

Gilbert released the hand and stepped back. "Care for a walk?"

Putting his tingling hand behind him, Matthew adjusted his glasses. "Yes, thank you."