"A choice is facing you, a healthy dose of pain."
~Belle and Sebastian
There were words for people like her, words that were generally reserved for war time, words that carried the worst possible connotations. Collaborator. Traitor.
"So this...this is what your people died for?" Eduard's voice had been cold, contemptuous. He hadn't said it but the sentiment was obvious from his tone. You disgust me.
"You live here too! You do his paperwork and call him sir, just like the rest of us!" She'd snapped back hotly, glaring at her brother. "You take orders like everyone else, so get off your moral high horse!"
"I'm not the one who jumped into bed with him!" He'd hissed back, teeth gritted. "I might be here but it doesn't mean I have to enjoy it, the way you do! I've seen the way his hands are all over you, the way you blush like a schoolgirl when he looks at you. You think nobody notices it when you come back and your hair is a mess and your buttons are half undone?"
"And what...? You'd rather I told him to fuck off? Make him angry? Let him take out his frustrations on you or Raivis...?"
"Don't you dare!" Eduard cut her off icily. "Don't you dare pretend like this is some noble act of self sacrifice! You might make a good show of pretending to be a martyr for the rest of the world, but you like it. You get off on it. It's obvious." He'd turned his head away angrily, refusing to meet her gaze.
Their argument had eaten away at her all day. Perhaps that had been why she'd carelessly knocked over Ivan's favourite vase. Perhaps that had been why she'd been so lax about sweeping up the shards properly, why she'd carelessly left the evidence there for him to find. Yes, that was it. She'd been distracted by the argument. Nothing more.
As the Baltic trio sat in tense silence that evening at the kitchen table, eating supper, the door opened and a soft, sing song voice came from the doorway. Heavy boots fell on the floor and she bit her lip, not looking up as a large hand closed around her arm.
"Oh Toris..." the tall, violet eyed man hauled her to her feet, mock disappointment on his face as he shook his head. "Come with me. We need to have a discussion about your clumsiness."
Her heartbeat quickened as she was half dragged out of the room and she tried to ignore the small, confusing thrill of anticipation in the pit of her stomach. As Russia gripped her hard enough to leave a bruise, no doubt the first of many for the evening, she bit back the tiny moan of pain in the back of her throat, the sound laced with something else, something that was almost indecent.
Looking back, she caught the frightened concern on Ravis' face, the pointed look of disgust from Eduard. But he was wrong. She didn't crave this.
Did she?