A/C: the story contains genderbent characters: male!Ukraine (Dmitri) and male!Belarus (Nicolai). Russia character is also male. I have researched some historical data about these three in order to make it vaguely related to history, but please do not expect 100% historical accuracy, this is only a fanfiction. It's Russia's POV.

It was three of us for as long as I remember: Dmitri, the oldest brother; Nikolai, the youngest; and me, the middle one. My childhood was somewhat scary but not as dim as everyone likes to portray. True, violence and slaughter were always part of my narrative, but whose history is not filled with blood, can you tell me?

As I was growing up, I always looked up to my brother Dmitri, even though he is only slightly older and barely had more experience than I did. He stayed in Kiev – a nice place, with the wide river and pretty chestnuts. I did not live very long with him and was later sent to the North and there I saw deep forests, depressing marshes and snow, snow, snow…

Back then, I secretly hated Dmitri. I hated it when he towered over me, acting all smug and opinionated, as if he was somehow better than me, although we were roughly at the same level. As we rode our horses to my house, he always complained how gloomy my place looked.

"Your people look odd, you know", he said. "And they speak odd, too. What an alien land!"

I said nothing, as he continued:

"And it's much colder here. I thought Kiev was cold, but here it's freezing!"

"You haven't been to Novgorod, I presume" I muttered.

"Your people are way too conservative here up North. I have some advice for you…"

"Look", I interrupted, "if you don't like it, go home. I did not invite you here in the first place; it was your idea to come over."

Suddenly he looked worried: "I'm sorry, Ivan, I did not mean it that way. Please forgive me my rudeness." After that we rode in silence.

But during his next visits he repeated the very same complaints; as if it was my fault my place looked so rough and cold and that I wasn't as "cultured" as he was. And then he kept quickly apologizing when he saw me getting irritated. He often reminded me how cruel I was when I captured Moscow, a little town back then, and killed the local ruler to take control of the land. He liked to remind me of my cruelty, scolding me, and I hated the condescending tone in his voice. But it was your own advice, wasn't it, you bastard? Didn't you tell me that Kiev is too congested for both of us, that I must seek new territories up North? Weren't you the one who suggested I should capture these little towns hidden in marshes? You were the one who told me I must be more assertive. But I never said it out loud and Dmitri only shook his head.

He was a "bewitching" older brother, what can I say. Nicolai was much easier to deal with, because he stayed silent for the most part.

But I also knew Dmitri's other side – a gentle brother that he was. He told me that he acted superior only because I was younger and he needed to teach me lessons. "You are special",he used to say, "I will be a good teacher to you and one day you will become very powerful". He told me stories about great princes and brave monks as we lay in bed, waiting to fall asleep. And then, when he thought I was already sleeping, he would kiss me on the forehead, sit beside my bed and pray to god for me.

Although Kiev remained officially the cultural centre, the North-Eastern principalities were becoming politically stronger and my economics expanded, too. Dmitri was blind, however: he still thought the Grand Prince in Kiev held all the power, even though the principalities quarreled with each other like mad. It was the time for me to teach him lessons.

One time, I came to Kiev and brought my nomads with me. I have always been smooth in dealings with the nomadic people: they often obeyed me, but I never relied on them too much. My skills have probably helped me later, when I dealt with the Tatars. Dmitri, however, was too proud to have any business with the nomads, because he despised them. Aside from Chorni Klobuky,[i] his personal pagan guards, he thought that dealing with the other nomads was below his status. He relied on his pagans far too much though, and I suspect that Chorni Klobuky were the first ones who betrayed him when the Tatars came. Little you knew, my dear Dmitri.

On the day of my arrival, my nomads and I sacked Kiev and burned it altogether. I already couldn't stand that city. I remember fire and cries of the children, and Dmitri was standing on his knees, his face, hands, and his clothes were black from soot, blood dripping from his shoulder. And he was crying and calling to me:

"Why, little brother, why do you hate me so much? This is not how I taught you..."

"I don't hate you," I replied. "I'm only teaching you a lesson. And your lessons – I don't want to hear them anymore. I've become more powerful than you, so you must stop telling me what to do."

"Maybe, I was a bad teacher to you then," he put his palms on the ground and lowered his head. He was praying, I thought. Couple seconds later, I realized to my disbelief, that he was praying for my soul.

"Maybe", I answered to myself, "Maybe you were not."

Later, I burned Kiev one more time. I probably crossed the line that second time, but it was already too late.

[i] Were a group of semi-nomadic Turkic tribes that settled on the frontier between the Rus states and the Pechenegs (and later the Cumans) during the 11th century and 12th century CE.