Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me.
A/N: This was a short drabble to get the feel of writing and trying to convey Ivan's character. There's barely any history in here, just a mention of the Romanovs - if it's wrong, I'm very sorry. :c I've uploaded it to see if I could get some critique on it, since it would be greatly appreciated.
Warnings: Useless angst. Lithuania beating. Sorry Liet. OTL
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любовь мояb
my love
The room smelt musky and somehow sickeningly sweet.
No one used this room anymore; not since the era of the Romanovs, anyways.
Their children had used this place as their play room, he remembered. He had loved them. He still loves them. He misses them, yearns for them and those golden years they brought. He knows Russia will probably never get to experience such warmth again.
Gloved fingers trace the outline of a forgotten teacup sitting on an old cherry oak table. Specks of dust remained on his fingers as they trailed along the rim, exploring every indent in the ancient china.
A memory flashed across his eyes; the vision of laughing children surrounding him, playing with him, smiling at him. It had been awhile since someone had genuinely smiled at him.
A moment later and unwanted emotions flared and shot throughout the man's body, paralyzing him. His heart clenched, and the nostalgia was replaced with raw anger. The anger of what his people did to Russia, what his people did to the Romanovs, what his people did to him.
He quickly removed his hand from the teacup as if it had scorched him, and knocked it to the floor. The item shattered, white, large pieces lying by the man's boots.
Ivan hated it. He absolutely hated it. He hated having to be the only one bearing such a bloody history as his, and in the end, having earned no respect from it. The man had only earned the other countries' fear. He knew it wasn't the same thing, but still used that fear to control them, to get what he wanted. And yet all he wanted was a place filled with sunshine and sunflowers, with children laughing and smiling with him, with people loving and respecting him.
The door creaked open, a familiar voice calling him. Ah, his precious Liet...
That same voice had become somewhat of a safety blanket to him, something that made him gain more stability than he usually had. It was able to soothe Ivan, if anything...
...But as of right now, it just flat out pissed him off.
The large man despised how Toris had peeked into the room, those emeralds as happy as they could be under such torment. Said Russian scowled at how the corners of the other's mouth were upturned as he eagerly seeked Ivan out. The once singsong voice now turned more concerned as he got no response. "Master Russia? Where are you? …Vsyo v poryadke?"
Why was Liet always so happy? ...Why couldn't Ivan be happy? Did he not deserve such a luxury?
There was only one solution that made perfect sense to him - Liet had to suffer some more, too.
Ivan knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew it was wrong as he crept behind Liet and seized him, making the smaller man jump in terror. He knew it was wrong when his gloved hands nicely wrapped themselves around Liet's throat, fingers digging into the skin and drawing blood as the pressure heavily increased. He even knew it was wrong when he shoved Toris down to the floor, and while the man was gasping for breath, simply kicked the hell out of him, a cruel smile plastered on his lips.
The Russian stopped his beating and knelt down on the floor, reaching for one of the shards of the old teacup. He then moved over so he was sitting next to a panting Lithuania, and began to strip the man of his clothes, humming as he did so.
Ivan could feel the other tense under him, trembling and simply emanating pure horror as he undid the uniform. Despite everything so far, Liet hadn't made a sound; it was past being scared shitless of Russia and fearing being punched in the face. He... He knew (or dearly prayed, for that matter) that the larger man would not go as so far as to take his life, which was a comforting thing for Lithuania to think of as everything happened... that if he screamed, it would be in vain and only cause more hurt for him in the end.
Finally the smaller man was shirtless. Blue, black, and purple were painted on Liet's pale body as if it were a canvas. Ivan mused that he was the artist of this bruised masterpiece, mused that said bruised masterpiece was his and his alone. He then flipped Liet onto his stomach, his back now exposed to the Russian. It was already marred with scars from past torture, and Toris didn't want to know if it could be maimed any more than that.
Using the shard of china in his gloved hand, Ivan deliberately carved lines into Liet's back. The other only let a whimper escape as the porcelain was being dragged along his back, reopening old wounds and creating new ones. Each time the tip passed through a rather deep abrasion, Liet couldn't help but dig his fingers harder into the wooden floor and try to endure the pain, tears threatening to spill as the fresh blood was doing on his back. Then the fragment of china stopped moving and its presence disappeared, signaling that Russia was through with his work.
"Now," Ivan started, his voice that of a proud child's. "Liet can suffer with Russia, too… Liet can bare this unhappiness along with me." He maneuvered around and lifted Lithuania's chin with his fingers, amethyst pools meeting green ones. "After all, dorogaya, you are one with Russia...now and forever."
Times like these made Lithuania almost want to sympathize with Russia and how the man had known such loneliness. More loneliness than anyone ever should have known, at that.
Toris was then left alone in the room that smelt of musk, something sickeningly sweet, and copper.
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When he finally had regained the strength to move, Liet had cleaned himself up and checked to see what Ivan had carved on his back. Surprise hit him when he saw the Russian words that were etched forever in his body.
'LUBOV MOYA'
Lithuania stared at it awhile longer, before putting fresh clothes back on and heading back to work. Pretty jade eyes reflected the sorrow that came along with those words and the one who had written them. From under his breathe he entertained himself with the meaning, "…my love, huh?"
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The next time Liet saw Ivan was the following morning. The man was sitting at a table in the vast dining room, staring tranquilly out through the window at the Russian winter. Purple eyes, forever cold, were lost in reminiscence, perhaps of a happier time. In his hands was a decorative white teacup, lines running through it as though it had cracked once and been fixed.
Lithuania couldn't help but notice that one of the shards was red.
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A/N: Vsyo v poryadke? = Are you Alright?
Dorogaya = Dear
Lubov Moya = My Love
Of course, I can't speak fluent Russian, so these might be incorrect. Once again, I'm sorry if they are. And it would be nice to get critique but w/e. Thanks for reading!
EDIT: I changed the Cyrillic at the beginning ORZ Thanks, FallenXanthia! ;o;