Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
A/N: Another attempt at an allegorical piece. Sorry, just can't resist the beauty of symbolism. I was going to post this under "The World Beyond..." but it got long enough to be its own separate story.
WARNINGS: Un-beta'd. The presence of deep symbolism in simple language (please read carefully). Fairy tale weirdness. Disturbing themes. GORE. Yes, a very bad combination, indeed.
NOTES: Russia is Death. Lithuania is Love.
The Story of Love and Death
~愛と死の物語~
One
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, Lithuania, the Nation of Boundless Love, encountered Russia, the Nation of Potent Death.
Russia invaded his land and destroyed, as his hands were so capable of doing, the bond Lithuania shared with his lover, Poland, the bond that was supposed to last till eternity.
They separated. The love between them withered and became nothing but fragments that could only be buried and preserved in the soils of memory.
Russia took Lithuania far, far away from the war-torn land of love to his frozen palace of death. There, he claimed his spoils of war.
Mercilessly, Russia sank his teeth into the tender skin at the nape of Lithuania's neck. Crimson essence of life poured through the wound along with pain and agony. Russia drank in everything.
And Lithuania knew, once the blood ceased to flow from the wound, it would be pain and agony that would close the wound with colorless scar tissue.
When Russia was done feasting, lips painted brilliant red sealed the wound with a curse, bequeathing the other a dark oath for being his prisoner.
"Your blood is so sweet~" He exclaimed and the amethyst of his eyes shined at the excitement of new discovery. "One day, I will surely devour you whole."
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, Lithuania, the Nation of Boundless Love, encountered Russia, the Nation of Potent Death.
And as curses bonded heroes and villains together in fairy tales, Lithuania's future path was fated to cross with Russia's.
Heroes were also supposed to defeat villains. But can boundless Love really overcome Death, as potent as it is?
…
Two
Death took pleasure in destroying things, shattering grounds and breaking bonds, bonds that formed the basis of personal relationships.
Yet, what many did not know is that Death destroyed by creating. He creates something extraneous, something unnecessary as a way of destruction. Destruction occurs when something is added continuously, until the balance of the original structure is overwhelmed and crumbles.
Germany and Prussia were two nations joined by the bond of brotherhood.
Yet, both of them knew that brotherhood was merely the minimal, the basis, of their relationship. It had the potential of being cultivated into something else. It had the power to sprout and grow into something else. Love saw to that.
And when it did, the two of them mutually agreed to accept and welcome the change it would bring. Physically and emotionally.
But before change could proceed into its final stage of evolution, Russia took Prussia away. And to destroy Love's grand, ultimate plan for them, he added something extraneous, something unnecessary.
Death constructed a wall that divided their land east and west, and built a barrier between their relationship, that, that something else never happened.
They did not become more than brothers. They could not even be brothers.
After all, if they could not communicate through the wall, through the barrier, what were they to each other but strangers?
...
Three
It was ironic how Love and Death are never the only main characters to their story.
The story of Love and Death always involved so many others.
And it did not matter whether the others were notably important figures or not.
They could be average human beings.
Like John, the hardworking farmer's son, who, under Love's plan, fell for Sally, the crude butcher's daughter.
They could be historically outstanding individuals.
Like Henry VIII, who, under Death's persuasion, beheaded his wives for all the sins they have committed, however puny and trivial (and nonexistent, perhaps) they were.
And they could be great nations.
Like Prussia and Germany.
It was only through the existence of the others that Love and Death could maintain such a solid existence.
Yet, in truth, the Nation of Boundless Love, Lithuania, did not want to be such a potent presence like Russia. If he had a choice, he would rather be as average as his people. He would rather meet Death for the first time at the end of his life, and close his eyes and never see him again. Instead, his footsteps were always traced by Death. And it never mattered who his lover was, because Russia would always take him away from his lover in the end.
Russia came to take him away when he was with Poland.
Russia came to take him away when he was with America.
And as he spent his time comforting Germany now, Lithuania knew it was inevitable for Russia to come and take him away again, the same way he took Prussia away and separated him from Germany.
He mocked himself for his stupidity. For thinking he could escape Death, escape Russia. For trying to escape Death, escape Russia.
He was as naïve as all those around him. They thought they would merely encounter Death once, at the end of their lives.
In reality, Death was with them all throughout their lives.
He was at the funeral they attended.
He was at their transition from children to adults.
He was at the wastebasket when they tossed away old letters from their former lovers.
Death stalked them; Russia stalked him.
It was overwhelming. It was maddening.
It was so unbearable, the pain and the agony Death always brought along with him that he wanted his existence to end so he would finally gain independence, from Death, from Russia.
The thought of a final confrontation with Death comforted him.
His final confrontation with Death will come…but not right now.
Love needed to comfort Germany right now. He had to wait with him for Prussia's return.
Once the other returns, his work here would be done. Then, he can leave.
Thinking, Lithuania cast his gaze to the sky in the distance, the sky on the other side of the towering wall appearing more melancholy and gray than the one directly above him now. It was where Germany's other half resided. And where the strongest north wind could not blow through the thick concrete to bring them news of the other.
He hoped the other was okay.
…
Four
"I am grateful that I am not a saint…That when I try to love you and fail, I have an excuse to hate you…"
o
Together, Germany and Lithuania waited many years for Prussia's return, for the wall that separated them to crumble.
That long awaited day came, finally.
Yet, if Death had once taken something away and have now brought it back, it did not mean he was kindhearted.
Lithuania knew him too well. This was the same nation he attempted to love as all other nations, but have failed timelessly.
Thus, when the pair saw the usual innocuous grin on his lips when he carried something like a sack of potatoes over a shoulder, Lithuania immediately sensed that something was unusual. If it was not about Ivan, then it was about what he carried.
"I came to see him home, personally." The tall nation explained innocently, the thin crescent slits of his eyes hid their sly glint as well as he hid the intentions to his own actions. "You should be honored that Russia is personally making this delivery~"
If it was for his usual fast temper, Germany would have already verbally cursed the other many times. Yet, all he wanted now was to check on his brother's condition.
So, instead, he offered his gratitude, however insincere it was.
His arms reached out, slowly waiting to receive his brother.
Russia handed Prussia over. Then he added as if he had just remembered something important.
"Just a moment, please." Russia intervened. And Lithuania knew it was time for the other to reveal his intentions. "I know this may be improper for me to ask for, but…"
The other turned to him.
Love and Death met through a single gaze.
"I wish to take Lithuania back with me as the token of your gratitude."
Germany was speechless.
Lithuania spoke for him, his eyes never wandering away from the other's gaze.
"Of course, Russia-san. It would only be proper." He smiled politely. "And if I could ask you to return to Moscow first, as I am afraid I may delay you from any business you may need to attend to. I must pack my belongings first, you see."
And as if entirely amused, Russia laughed.
"Very well. If you insist." His eyes glowed knowingly. "I will give you a week's time. And surely, that is enough for you?"
"That is quite generous of you."
"I shall see you in Moscow in a week, then." He ran a hand through his auburn locks playfully. "Don't forget to pack your winter coats and jackets…"
Russia leaned close to his ear, breathing.
"But, it will not be a problem if you forget, either…Toris…" A taunt.
Then, he withdrew, turned, and was gone.
…
Five
"The day you gain independence will be the day of my death.
"So… Let me hear you call me 'Brother' again."
o
Death brought Germany's brother back to him alive. But not quite.
From Prussia's conditions, both Germany and Lithuania knew he would not live for long. That is, his physical body itself was deteriorating, crumbling down like the wall had not long ago.
And the only way to preserve his soul now was to allow it into Germany's body, and allow its existence to depend entirely upon another.
Their reunion and the decomposition of Prussia occurred ultimately for the purpose of Germany's independence.
It was really quite ironic. How the events occurred.
While the wall that once divided their land divided them, Prussia at least maintained his individuality and existed as another physical body.
And now, while the wall had been destroyed and they were back together, Prussia's Death-tortured body could no longer hold, and he can no longer be that eternal companion for Germany.
It was really ironic.
"Hey… I told you, didn't I?"
The dying nation whispered weakly, trying his best to lift his lips into that proud smirk he often wore.
"The day you gain independence will be the day of my death."
He chucked with hardship. His brother knelt beside him, pain and hopelessness carving deep lines between his thick brows.
"Aren't you glad that you've finally rid yourself the burden of your brother?"
"Stop being an idiot."
Prussia smirked.
"Hey… West… I really miss the brat you were in the past… It would always be 'Brother, this' and 'Brother, that'…"
They say the events during one's lifetime flashed before one's eyes when one is merely a few steps from eternal slumber.
Nostalgia fogged up Prussia's once brilliant ruby eyes. He was close to his end.
"So…West… Let me hear you call me 'Brother' again…"
"…" Germany hesitated.
Silence. Germany pondered. Prussia waited.
Silence. Lithuania wanted to intrude. He wanted to help.
Silence.
Eventually, Germany seized the dying nation's hand and lowered himself to the ground so that his head rested against the other's chest.
"…Sorry… That is not going to happen…"
"…I see…" Disappointment.
"…You and I are no longer brothers… You should know that…Gilbert…"
That special name. Every nation had one. It was no secret. But only nations who established close relationships called each other by their own special names.
Prussia must have realized. And he laughed, however weak he was, however fleeting his life was.
"I see… I guess you were right for once about me being an idiot…Ludwig…"
He calmed. Struggling to lift his other hand, he placed it upon the other's now disheveled blond hair.
"Ludwig… Live on…" He said, as if injecting the last few bits of his own life into the other through his speech and touch.
"…Aa…"
And Prussia's eyelids closed over his brilliant ruby depths as his hand slipped from atop Germany's head to the ground.
An empty thud.
Then, more silence. Not even a single sound of small hope beneath Prussia's chest.
Nothing.
Just silence, the sound of Germany concentrating entirely on the task of remembering his brother, his special other half who would soon make him whole, make him independent.
The voice of Love cut in.
"Don't forget him. He loved you dearly."
"I will not forget him." His deep blue eyes closed in confirmation. "We will become one, and I will inherit all his memories."
Germany pushed himself up, Prussia never leaving the field of his vision.
"Everything of his will become one with mine, and he is mine. Everything of mine will become one with his, and I am his as well."
Lithuania watched and listened as the nation who usually cursed love confessions as being too melodramatic and feminine made such an open and strong confession.
Love truly changes things, regardless of how fleeting things may be.
When Germany reached down to undo the first few buttons of Prussia's uniform and withdrew the black iron cross that was identical to the one he had in his possession, Prussia's body began to lose its solidity.
It became translucent. Then transparent. Finally, it faded completely, becoming invisible, becoming nothing.
Germany fastened the necklace around his own neck. He now wore two same necklaces.
And no one, not even himself, could distinguish between the necklace that had been his and the other that belonged to Prussia.
Just like, now that Prussia had become a part of him, he did not know which part of himself, beneath his flesh, belonged to him and which part belonged to Prussia.
It really did not matter, anyway.
Beside him, Lithuania watched the entire scene, surprised. He had never seen a nation disappear.
When he had been under Soviet control, his own land was no longer present on the world map.
But he was still there. He still existed. He was just a part of the Soviet Union.
In that case, perhaps Prussia did not really completely disappear either. He was just a part of Germany now.
That was another addition that was of Death's doing. He took something away and added something else to the original structure.
In that case, Death took away Prussia's physical existence. Yet, as long as Germany existed, Prussia would exist in his memories, in the memories of his people, and in the memories of other nations who will pass on such a tale.
Death's doing no longer became a tragedy.
Love made sure of that.
All that was left at the end of every fairy tale, every story, was the confrontation between the hero and the villain.
All that was left was for Love to confront Death, for Lithuania to confront Russia…
…And for Toris to confront Ivan.
…
Six
In an ordinary fairy tale, the final destination for the hero is always the villain's lair. Upon reaching there, he will venture through dungeons and dodge traps and fight off the villain's minions before confronting the villain. And when he does, the villain will first declare his ultimate goal to rule over mankind and then taunt the hero to make his first move. They fight.
But this was no ordinary fairy tale.
Love was no ordinary hero.
Death was not entirely a villain.
When Lithuania reached Moscow, reached to Russia's residence a week later, he was not greeted by the Russian army.
It was Russia himself who opened the door for him after he knocked.
It was Russia himself who wholeheartedly accepted him inside his house, carrying his small luggage bag and hanging up his heavy jacket.
It was Russia himself who led him to his old room.
It was Russia himself who helped him settle down.
Along the way, both of them had remained courteous to each other, and they went only as far as conducting the small talk that acquaintances shared with one another.
They smiled politely at one another. Lithuania saw no trace of malice lurking behind those innocent amethyst eyes.
And Lithuania thought, if his relationship with Russia was to continue like this, quiet and mellow, then, he really did not need to fear the other.
It was the best life a prisoner could hope for. A life like this.
Yet, that cynical part of him buried deep, beneath his consciousness remained distrustful.
What made Russia change so much all of a sudden? That voice asked.
Even Lithuania's optimism could not answer that question.
…
Seven
"Why must you be so cruel and heartless to Love?"
"No, you are wrong. Death is only most gentle on Love."
o
What he had hoped would happen, did not happen.
What he never thought of, happened unexpectedly.
Russia dominated his body, forcing himself on him again.
This was what that cynical part of him had been warning him about.
Lithuania hugged himself tightly and pushed his knees together that not even a thin sheet of paper could slip through his thighs.
But Russia still succeeded in shredding his pajamas into pieces and pulling his legs apart to occupy his figure between them.
He thought, if Russia could conquer him so easily, then did that mean that Death could conquer Love just as easily?
Lithuania struggled to form complete words with his voice. Yet, all his failed attempts ended up as groans and moans.
Russia's teeth marking his body and that flesh-made weapon dragging in and out of him made speaking almost impossible.
"Why must you…be so cruel...and…heartless…to Love?" 'Why must you be so cruel and heartless to me?'
All he felt were pain and agony, like the first time Russia bit him and cursed him.
Whatever they were doing, whatever they did in the past, was not lovemaking. Not at all.
'Why must you be so cruel and heartless to Love?'
Instead of the guilt of realization that should have followed, Russia chuckled merrily as he delved more force into his already erratic actions.
"Don't be silly, Toris."
That special name. His special name.
Every nation had one. But only the closest nations called each other by their special names.
Lithuania was not close to Russia.
Or rather, Ivan was not close to Toris as Toris had been close to Ivan.
So Lithuania refused to address the other by his special name.
"Don't be silly, Toris." Russia repeated, and Lithuania saw the mischief rise from the depths of his eyes shimmering in the dark. "Death is most gentle to Love."
"…You…lie…"
"It is true." Teeth nipped at the nape of his neck. "Only Death can assure the existence of eternally boundless Love."
He moved to peck at his lips.
"And Death is the only one that can make Love beautiful."
A shiver ran down his naked body. He knew Russia's eyes had just swiped him from head to toe.
"Like now."
What irony.
…
Final
"The day of my independence is the day of my death."
o
What is true peace?
What is true independence?
'Perhaps I will never achieve true peace or independence when I am constantly trying to escape from you and when I am constantly recaptured.' Lithuania thought.
Perhaps he had been running away from Death for too long.
Perhaps he had been denying Death for too long.
Perhaps it was easier if he accepted Death.
Emerald eyes narrowed in determination.
o
It was when Lithuania was sick of all those scabbing teeth marks, sick of that constant dull ache radiating from his lower extremities, sick of their rough sex that he finally proposed a solution.
"If you say you are so gentle with Love," he began, seeing that Russia had once again appeared in his room in the dark of nightfall, "then, allow me to give you my own gentleness as well."
Russia appeared intrigued.
"Oh? Are you going to be the assertive one tonight?"
Lithuania smiled, playing along.
"Ne, Russia-san…" His finger began undoing the buttons of his own pajamas. At the opening around the nape of his neck, he presented the long, almost crescent-shaped white scar to the other. "Won't you keep your oath to me and devour me whole tonight?"
'Won't you show me the ultimate pain and agony? If I can bear your torture for so long, what else can move me?'
"Let me be a part of you forever."
'Let Love be a part of Death, and may Love soften the harsh impact of Death.'
"So you wish to be one with Russia, the Nation of Potent Death…"
A cold hand reached out to caress his cheek. Something surfaced quickly and sunk immediately in the other's eyes that Lithuania failed to catch.
"It will be of excruciating pain…Toris…"
Lithuania smiled in acceptance.
"I understand…Ivan-san…"
The soft moisture in those forest-colored eyes was the gentleness he promised to show him.
He fell back onto the bed, his pajamas opened entirely before him, exposing his nudity beneath.
The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was Russia peering down at him with that same mysterious shimmer in his eyes that he had thought he saw a moment before.
Then, he felt the ultimate pain he expected.
o
Russia tore him up from limb to limb.
It was no cliché.
His nails dug into the surface of his skin and his hands ripped off pieces of muscle, bone and organ. His teeth sank into his flesh, and his tongue lapped away the crimson flow of blood from his body.
Lithuania's eyes remained closed, as it was easiest for him to hide from the repulsive scene and best for him to concentrate on accepting the pain and agony.
Yes, accepting the ultimate pain and agony, instead of shunning them away.
That way, he could also accept the wholeness of Potent Death, instead of denying his existence.
Eventually, ultimate pain lessened to excruciating pain, excruciating pain lowered to sharp pain, and sharp pain melted into dull pain.
There was nothing he cannot endure now.
Suddenly, the other's entire symphony of tearing, ripping, slurping, and crunching halted.
In the spontaneous silence, he heard the other's soft, childish voice.
"Toris…"
It sounded like a whimper, like the low cry of an injured beast.
"Toris…"
The other called again, and Lithuania felt droplets burn his cheeks and forehead.
He attempted to crack his eyes open.
Death was near.
Through tiny slits, he saw the other's face hovering so close to his own. His brilliant red lips reminded him much of the time he first feasted on his blood.
But, this time, the other's expression was not one twisted into the lust for the essence of life.
It was of ultimate despair.
The rivers of despair overflowed his eyes and ran down his baby-fat cheeks and his nostrils. And the droplets dropped down to his cheeks to cultivate a great river of sadness.
"Toris…"
Perhaps the parts of him that he consumed had already softened him up inside.
"Toris…"
The other called to him still, like a child calling to his mother, and a lover calling to his mate.
He wanted to raise his arm to stroke the other's soft hair.
But he found that he had not a single arm to raise or a single hand to caress the other with.
So he comforted him with words instead. He comforted the other with intangible words that fled the moment they escaped his mouth.
"Go on… Ivan-san…"
'I am not yet completely one with you…'
Lithuania closed his eyes.
The other struggled on.
And when the entirety of him was devoured by the other, he felt himself travel in the other's blood, being carried through his arteries and veins running from bone to bone, organ to organ.
He contemplated about settling in a chamber of his heart, but he lingered only for a short time before traveling again.
His death was his independence.
It was no cliché. Really.
Now that he was a part of Death, he went wherever he wanted: any cell, any tissue, any organ.
Lithuania was a part of Russia.
Toris was a part of Ivan.
Love was a part of Death.
He felt a tiny part of him become a crystalline droplet traveling down the other's cheek.
'Ne, Ivan-san… Are you as happy as I am now?'
-END-
FINAL NOTES:
The darkest fanfic I have ever written. No joke. The funny thing is, I don't even know if it is because RussLiet itself just depresses me, or if it is because of those VOCALOID songs I listened to.
AU is a cover-up for the lack of historical knowledge. (Looks around guiltily)
Anyways, I was in this phase (kinda still am) where I started to, like, dislike Russia a lot. Many of the Germancest fics I've read had Russia as the bad guy...so... Plus, I read this other (fake) RussLiet fic and triggered a land mine. God, Russia's yandere-ness (or childish cruelty, whatever you call it) is really getting to me...