In The Night
She stared at her brother impassively as he embraced the other man. He didn't seem to notice she was there… and if he did, he didn't seem to care. Her eye twitched. She was being ignored.
The other man was… different. He was loud, exuberant, happy. She hated him. She hated his aura, she hated his voice, she hated his face, she hated how happy he made her brother. Yes, she hated him, the thief who stole her beloved brother away from her. He would pay.
She would attack him in the night. Night was her friend; it shielded her from the truth that daybreak brought. The truth she never wanted to see. She would follow him home as he left her brother's house. He would never hear her; she would be too silent for his ears.
She would hold her knife at ready, the cool sharp blade glinting in the pale moonlight.
She wanted him to notice her. She wanted him to see her face before he died. She wanted him to see his murderer.
He would turn around nonchalantly and that would be her cue. She would see the horror in his eyes, the fear glinting in those blue eyes that her brother loved so dearly.
She would stab him below the heart.
She wanted him to feel pain before he died.
She wanted to watch him writhe in pain, make him feel the way she had felt watching him take what was rightfully hers – her brother's heart.
His death would be long and slow. She preferred it that way – she wanted to laugh at the last traces of life escaping him.
Perhaps he would plead with her, beg her to save his life, promise to never see her brother again if she saved him. Of course, she would refuse. It would be too tempting to silence him quickly, make his obnoxious voice stop midway at his throat, watch his blue eyes go glassy. She would have to control herself to not slice his throat.
Perhaps he would cry out for help, screaming as loud as he can so someone – anyone could help him. What he wouldn't realize is that she had an ally on her side. The General. The snow would be falling so thickly that if anyone even heard his cries, they would not be able to help him.
Perhaps she would mock him a bit as the life flew away from him. Taunt him. Remind him that such a strong man could die at the hands of a young girl. Make him die a weak man. Make him die without dignity.
Or maybe he would try to apologize for what he had done, try to make it up to her. She would scoff at his face. Did he honestly think that an apology would make up for the crimes he had committed? The pain she had felt? The fact her brother never looked her in the eye anymore?
Yes, he would die. She planned it so. Her mouth pulled into a grin. Her violet eyes burned maliciously as she stared at the two men.
He would die tonight.
The End.
A/N: Yes, it's really short isn't it? It was my first attempt at writing Natalia/Belarus as an obsessive, crazy sister with a Brother Complex. Aha, I think my favourite thing to do whenever I'm really bored is to write Natalia fanfics. She's a really fascinating character to write.
First person who can guess who Natalia is plotting to murder [it's almost completely obvious] gets the chance to request a one-shot/drabble for me to write!
Reviews make his death quicker and less painful.