Fandom: Hetalia
Pairing: RusMona, Russia/Monaco, if you squint past France/Monaco
Wordcount: 861
Rating: Teen and up (They don’t even kiss
Warnings: Politics? Tax evasion?
Summary: European parliament is a complex network of powers, everyone has stakes in everything, everyone has wires, lines, strings attached. Navigating it as a small independent principality is hard. Very hard. You might need to resort to being a tax haven in order to keep yourself afloat. So seeing that sole source of power and income threatened by regulation laws, Monaco needs someone to be on her side.
Originally a drabble made as a gift for my dear friend Emi (AO3: Piggywrites, @piggylemonade )
Read on AO3: x
number 5, Seeking Solace
“My eyes are bifocal
My hands are sub jointed
I live in the future
In my prewar apartment
And I count all my blessings
I have friends in high places
And I'm upgraded daily
All my wires without traces”
“Ok, so, given that this is a highly specialized issue, it won’t do to discuss it in the plenary meeting, France. We will work it out with a dedicated taskforce.” Belgium announced from behind the cathedra. France had suggested stricter enforcing of laws to curb countries developing into tax havens as a new talking point for on the agenda. She turned to the secretary taking meeting minutes “Please add me, France, Switzerland, Netherlands, Russia, Germany and Finland to that taskforce.” She looked round the room thinking she’d balanced out the group pretty well, with parties in favour of regulations and against regulations. “Is there anyone else wanting to join or having any objections to this setup?”
Monaco sat frozen in her seat. Raising a hand now and demanding to be part of that taskforce would be like admitting guilt in front of all of Europe. Still here she was, being overlooked, and thus excluded from discussing regulations that would very directly influence her entire livelihood. Did people just forget she was even here? That she was an actual country and a player in the European debate? Francis would probably gloat about this, her not being able to leech money from him anymore and not getting a say in the matter either. However, he didn’t even look her way to smirk or whatever, and somehow that was worse. If he hadn’t done this to spite her but had just forgotten about her as well. All she could do was sulk and hope that Netherlands and Switzerland would control the damage and bring her some good news in a couple of weeks on controlling regulations. Right now, she just didn’t know what to do with herself. Things like this constantly happening frustrated her so much she could just throw something. She sat trough the meeting keeping her face in check, her perfect mask firm in place, but on her blackberry she was sending frantic messages to her ‘officials in the finance sector’ as she lovingly called them…
When the meeting was finally closed and she joined the crowd of nations flooding into the hallway her mind was half on phone calls she’d need to make for damage control in case the regulations were sharpened and half on something she could do to make herself feel better. Right now, she was torn between indulging in a horrible, horrible sweet latte macchiato with caramel shavings and whipped cream that she usually wouldn’t touch with a bargepole because she was ever mindful of her figure but there were occasions that called for it, and getting her nails done.
She wasn’t really watching where she was going so she jumped slightly when all of a sudden, a large hand patted her little head. She looked up startled to see Ivan smile down at her.
“Don’t frown Yeltshka, you’ll get wrinkles.” He teased her. The nickname that added so many diminutives to her name that it made it unrecognisable instantly made her feel a bit more at ease. It carried memories.
“No regulations for you, I’ll make sure. It’s our little secret ok?”
He was speaking low and vibrant and she felt a warmth spreading through her. She knew Ivan benefited from fewer regulations himself, that he had quite a bit of money in her banks, but right now? She was grateful, so grateful that, while in this strange bureaucratic warfare that made up Europe nowadays she was a very small player, she had a friend to help her stay on her feet. And what a friend he was. A smile played around her lips and she would’ve kissed him there and then had she been able to reach and hadn’t it caused suspicion. If Europe was a turbulent sea in which she needed to stay afloat, Russia was a morally ambiguous lifeline and she could find solace in that. Discreetly she slipped him her hotel key “Maybe we should prepare the taskforce file together tonight then Ivan?” He pocketed it with a smile and nodded, nothing in his demeanour betraying he had anything but diplomacy on his mind for that night. They had to part ways without letting anyone see they had been talking so they quickly parted and kept walking. Yet somehow, they both looked over their shoulders at the same time and their eyes met, and a glint in Russia’s told her all she needed to know. She looked in front of her again with a sly grin on her face: Europe might forget about her, but that was to their own detriment. She had rich and powerful friends in high places. She was in every committee, in every taskforce, in everyone’s wallet. She was just invisible. The idea of France’s face when he figured out he wouldn’t be getting his precious tax money after all because she had rigged the game made any comfort through sweet coffee or nailcare wholly unnecessary.
