This time, however, you decided to look down at your own clothing. It was just as flashy and extravagant as Spain's; he would only ever get something for you is it was the best out there. You were in a (favorite color) corseted dress, which had a large silk bottom reaching down to your toes even though you were in heels. The sleeves contained breath-takingly detailed lace over the silk fabric that hugged your arms before expanding out around your shoulders. You had so much priceless jewelry on that you didn't even remember how much you were wearing anymore. Spain sure did take a liking to spoiling his "tesoro" rotten.
"I'm just not that hungry," you mumbled back to him. You eyed up the delectable food on your plate. After examining the plates of all the guests chatting around you, it was clear that yours was the only one left untouched. It wasn't true that your appetite was nonexistent. Truth be told you were so hungry that your stomach hurt. You just didn't want to eat in the presence of these nobles who were so alien to you. There were so many little rules like which of the multiple forks to use at what time that sometimes managed to slip your mind. Fear gripped your chest when you thought of what might happen if you embarrassed Spain. Would he hit you? Would you be locked away? Your heart sunk with every possibility.
"No, no! Bella, you need to eat!" whined a high pitched voice from your right. You turned to find Romano tugging at your elbow as if to shake some sense into you. His cheeks were puffed out in an impressive pout. A small patch of sauce, which came from the pizza made specially for him, decorated his left cheek. With a smile and a giggle, you picked up your napkin from your lap and began to clean Romano's face.
Spain watched the two of you with narrowed eyes. You were cooing and giggling like an idiot at Romano's adorably tsundere reaction to your affection. How come Romano gets the affection of mi tesoro? Spain brooded. Romano seemed to be the only one in the entire castle - the entire kingdom even - that you liked to spend time with. You treated him as if he were your own, always showering him with affection that he pretended to hate. No matter what though, he would always stick to you like glue. In a way, it unnerved Spain.
"Tesoro," Spain called for your attention. He placed an arm around your shoulders. You jolted and your hands flew back to your lap where you stared at them. He sighed when he noticed you looked like you were in deep trouble. Why wouldn't you warm up to him? He bought you everything a woman could ever desire. "Is there anything i could get for you, anything at all?" he offered. You responded with a polite "no thank you" and began to pick at your food.
Spain became frustrated and tightened the grip he had on your shoulder. It quickly became painful and you held in a yelp only to let out a muffled squeak. Spain heard. He didn't lighten his hold. At least now he had your attention.
You gave a weak smile and soft goodbye to the guests as they left. Spain's iron grip was still crushing your shoulder. You decided that ignoring it was probably best, so that you didn't get into trouble for being defiant or something like that. You decided that being docile was probably the best choice to avoid being the target of Spain's wrath.
Spain sighed again as he let go of your shoulder. You echoed his sigh with one of relief. He eyed you up, paying most attention to your expression. Your face was tense with apprehension and your body began to quake under his scrutinizing gaze. You just tried to focus on your hands while they fiddled with the bracelets that cluttered your wrists. You were starting to worry; it can't be good for him to stare at you for this long, nor can it be healthy to have your heart beating this fast. You took in a hardy breath to steel your nerves and turned to look Spain directly in the eyes.
"Come with me," he ordered, cutting you off. Instantly he turned his back to you and headed for the stairs. His strides were rushed as he hustled to get to his destination. After a moment of watching him, you realized he'd be mad if you just stood there. You jogged until you caught him halfway up the large, curled staircase. It was hard to keep up with the man, especially since you were in heels and he was in comfier shoes. Somehow you managed though as you two progressed through the immense building.
You passed by more doors than you could count. Even after months of your stay, you had no idea where most of them went. You were better at remembering the beautiful art hung up on the walls. There must have been art imported from every country across europe! They were all so beautifully detailed and enchanting. Your favorite though was the one that hung in your room. It was of a beautiful woman in a puffy, peach colored flamenco dress. She was halfway through a twirl and was smiling wide at all who looked at her. Spain bought it for you at a festival, because you showed so much interest in the flamenco dancers there.
Spain made one more turn and then came to an abrupt stop. You moved to stand next to him. All of a sudden, his iron grip was once again on you, but this time it crushed both of your shoulders. His nose couldn't have been more than an inch or two from yours. His gaze was dark, like it was we he stared at you when you fell to his forces.
"What is the matter with you?" he barked. You flinched at his tone and immediately found the hemline of his shirt to be fascinating. It really was a sight to behold. How had it's weaver make the gold swirl in such a pattern- "Look at me damn it!"
Tears leaked out of your eyes as they met his. He had never before screamed at you. Sure he threatened you if you weren't compliant and such, but he had never actually yelled at you. It made you shake. His voice sounded like a splitting tree. It was absolutely nothing like the soothing voice he almost hypnotizes you with each day. So this was how powerful he could be.
He bared his teeth at your pathetic show of tears. What the hell happened to that resilience you used to have - that little spark? Had he made it disappear? He almost snorted at the idea. He had housed you. He had nurtured you. He had pampered you. Yet here you were, breaking under the force of his voice like all the other weak little nations. What was he doing wrong?
"What more could you possibly want? Does all this stuff displease you? Would you prefer death?" His grimace turned into an absolutely malicious smile at his last words. A dagger appeared at your neck, causing goosebumps to disrupt your skin at the cold metal's touch. It's edge kissed your skin just hard enough to let you keep all of your blood. Spain was pleased to see that the wild look you got whenever you acted up exploded in your eyes. Before you had the chance to do anything, Spain leaned to your ear. He gave it a playful nip before whispering, "Run."
You bolted to the direction you came from. The heels you wore squeezed your feet as you sprinted, but that wasn't really your biggest worry at the moment. You just kept putting one foot in front the other. Power pulsated in your muscles as they fought to move even faster. You were moving so fast that you had to skid at each turn. You ran past numerous hallways and doors as well as servants, who only watched you with odd curiosity. None of them would be any help to you. But that was okay, because you were near your destination.
A dizzying happiness rushed through your head as you saw the large door leading to your bedroom come into view. It was made of pure wood carved by the greatest craftsman in Spain. It stood directly across the hall from a nearly identical door. That door led to Spain's room. You had only ever been in there on one day. Spain had been sick with a nasty cold, so you had decided to tend to him. He had to have been the neediest sick person you have ever come into contact with. Needless to say, he was also a lot less harsh in his sickness. You could only wish he weren't so harsh now.
You struggle to open you heavy door. Usually Spain or one of the male servants opened it for you, but you didnt' have time for that now. You had to get in there and lock the door. Spain could probably break it down but it would at least grant you some time. Your muscles strained as you fought with the door nob. Angry tears flew down your cheeks at the inconvenience. Why. Won't. You. OPEN! you wailed in your head. With every tug at the nob that just wouldn't budge, you heart rate increased and so did the thudding in your head. You decided that you'd give it one final tug with all the power in your body.
Your muscled tensed in anticipation and you braced your legs on the ground to get a strong stance. You leaned towards the door, getting so close to it that your nose touched the hard surface. Suddenly, you harshly threw your weight back with all of the strength your tired muscles could muster. The click and creak of an opening door sounded. Odd. You didn't feel it give way.
You stiffened. Hands - there were hands on your shoulders. They pulled you to meet a sturdy body. You were spun around, and all you could see were green eyes.
"Tesoro, I don't think you're very good at this escaping thing," Spain crooned in your ear. Even when crooning his voice seemed to hold a certain darkness. His words caused your brain to buzz with a new idea. You pondered, Well if I'm bad at running away then maybe... You moved your arms under his and around him to reciprocate the embrace - it might be tight and a bit unwelcome but it can still be called such. You began to rub the the tight muscles at the top of his back, praying that affection might pacify him.
Under your touch, Spain began to relax. His hold no longer hurt your ribs and he began to sway the slightest bit. He stopped his moving and adjusted so that he could nuzzle into your hair. A pleasant hum escaped him. You mentally kicked yourself for not thinking of this sooner.
"(Name) mi tesoro, come with me," Spain said. This time it sounded more like a suggestion then a demand. He pulled back to look into your eyes. You had never before seen a more beautiful shade of green than the color of his eyes at that moment. You gave him a small nod to let him know that wherever he was about to take you, you would follow. He grabbed your hand and led you across the hall to his bedroom door. He gave you the happiest smile you have ever seen on his face. How could one simple show of affection have changed the tyrant into a lover? He held the large door open for you and you stepped inside, but not without looking back to make sure Spain was right behind you.