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The atmosphere was set for a ball of the ages, the 7 years war had just been won by the new rising bastards England and Prussia, old power had started to fade, Spain in particular, once the empire on which the sub never set now had night looming over him, territories seceded to Portugal and England.
However nations always had the pleasure of the first dance of the night in these such balls, and with only England, Prussia and Austria in attendance as nation personifications, other than Spain himself, and he needed to dance with somebody, however he was not feeling like dancing at all, the war had drained his coffers, and the colonies were starting to revolt knowing that their master was growing weak.
England and Prussia had already started to dance before the "old man" had, as they tended to call him, no comment on the fact that England was almost as old as he, both being former charges of Rome at a point, though the rapid expansion had caused Spain to physically age quite a bit, and the stress of having to balance an empire that he knew would crumble soon had taken a toll on him.
He was no longer as young as he used to be, growing tired a lot faster then he did before, his bones ached constantly, Argentina said he had grey hair, England, that insolent brat mocked him and pointed out that he was getting wrinkles, called him a has been, it was enough.
He could feel everyone's eyes on him, he could feel England and Prussia mocking him as they danced effortlessly to the fast paced waltz, they looked into each others eyes so lovingly, and so mockingly at him, he hated it, he hated them.
"Spanien, want to dance?"
Austria, another whomst Europe called an old man, he acted like one much more than Spain thought he did in any case, played the piano, constantly had an aching back, wore those thick spectacles of his to see, and had married in and out of so many European families that many of the younger nations had taken to calling him uncle, he knew all of his children did, Romano, Peru, Chile, Argentina, they all called him uncle, and he seemed not to mind in the slightest.
But even as he was called an uncle, Spain did think he looked great in his tight fitting suit, it was considered a bit old fashioned, for the sleeves were loose and the cuffs were large, a rich blue colour that would have cost a fortune to dye, and as much of a miser as he knew Austria had a tendency to be, he felt a little happier that he had spent so much money, that he was sure he didn't have, just to see him at a ball, and he was positive it was new, despite the older style.
It was now the second dance of the night, it was a polonaise this time, slower, more militaristic, shame it was to be used in a ball and not as a military match for the hussars as it was intentionally composed for, slower tempo and more refined style were what Austria and Spain were better at dancing, none of those flying waltzes that everyone seemed so fond of these days.
They danced, and with a mild amusement Austria noticed that England and Prussia were not doing too well at this, not used to needing to refine their dancing and compress it into a truly refined form, while Spain and Austria were awing the remainder of the people not dancing with their elegance.
But he felt that something wasn't right, Austria could feel that his heart wasn't in it, more like Spain was going through the steps rather than him actually dancing, he wasn't looking at him either.
"Don't you dare look back." Spain resolutely avoided looking at him, but he looked pathetic in the way that showed that he was jealous and hated that he was.
"Just keep your eyes on me."
Spain finally looked at him, and it did seem like he was trying a bit more to look upbeat and focusing more on the dance.
With a slightly watery laugh, Spain said "You're holding back."
Grumbling Austria said "Shut up and dance with me."