Prussia walked slowly across the room. He didn't recognize the room but it didn't seem important enough to stop. The only light in the room came from outside, where the night glowed. A fierce snowstorm raged outside of the windows and obscured any view of the scenery beyond.
Prussia only spared a moment to look out the window before continuing to walk across the room. He wasn't sure why he was walking; all he knew was that he must. His destination came into sight, or at least it seemed so. On the opposite wall, the one he was walking towards, there was a full length mirror. He walked straight up to the mirror and stared at his reflections.
He could still see himself in the shape of the face and the confusion in the eyes. But, this could not be him. The man in the mirror had violet eyes and his hair was light beige. He put his hand up and ran it through his hair, which he knew was white. The man in the mirror did the same. It wasn't possible that he was seeing his reflection, because he looked like…..Russia. He still looked like himself, but it was the exact same coloration, the same hair, the same eyes.
He took a few steps back from the mirror. This couldn't be happening; he couldn't look like that man. He couldn't bear to look at his reflection anymore, he turned his head away. A large arm wrapped around his torso and pulled him to another's chest. He didn't need to look to know who this was, he could never have forgotten. He recognized the smell and the feeling and the strange roughness with which the other man held him.
He immediately tried to pull away from Russia, but to no avail. One of those massive hands grabbed his chin and turned his head back to the mirror. He didn't want to look, but he had to. In the mirror he could clearly see Russia behind him, one arm wrapped around his chest and the other holding his chin. It was also clear in the mirror that his hair and eyes matched Russia's perfectly. Then Russia whispered to him softly in that childish voice, "Do you see now? We are one".
Prussia felt his strength slipping away, but he could not figure out why. When he tried to speak, his voice sounded weak "No, this can't be. I left you." A smirk appeared on the face of the Russian, no not a smirk. It was that smile, the same damn sadistic smile. The hand that had been holding Prussia's chin moved and stroked the albino's cheek. Russia whispered softly in Prussia's ear "You left my side, but you can never leave me. We are one and you will always be mine". The arm around Prussia's torso tightened so that Prussia couldn't move at all.
Russia softly kissed the back of Prussia's neck. Prussia tried to break away, but all his strength had left him. The kiss set his skin on fire, a burning passion that he couldn't resist. The effect seemed to be somewhat amplified by something he couldn't name. Prussia closed his eyes and gave into the sensation; he couldn't summon the strength to resist. He tipped his head back so that it rested on Russia's shoulder. Russia again spoke to Prussia "Good boy, surrender to me." Prussia wanted to resist but he couldn't. Some sort of spell made it impossible for him to do anything.
Russia turned Prussia's head so that he could kiss the German on the lips. The kiss was slow and soft, it was almost loving. The kiss was too much, it was fire and ice, it was love and hate, and it was pleasure and pain. Prussia couldn't break away; again he was trapped by Russia. Russia kissed Prussia's neck again. The heat of it was unbearable. Prussia couldn't make sense of anything anymore, in this moment there was only Russia and the heat. Prussia needed to break the spell, but he knew he couldn't. He made one last effort and cried out "Ivan!"
He woke with a start, sweat pouring down his face. He was shaking, even though the room was warm enough. He was in his own bed in his brother's house; he was miles away from Ivan. The door burst open with a crash and through it came his brother. "Are you alright? You were yelling", worry showed in the lines of his brother's face.
Prussia shook his head and said "It was just a nightmare, nothing to worry about". He tried to shake away the nightmare, it had felt so real. Why was he still dreaming about Ivan? It didn't make any sense. He never wanted to see Ivan… no not Ivan….Russia again, least of all in his dreams. His dreams had always been the place he had escaped Russia, and now Russia had even taken that from him.
Ludwig continued to look at him with concern. Prussia was surprised by how much it irritated him; he didn't like being looked at like he was going crazy. He waited for his brother to say something, but he didn't "I told you I am fine, you can leave now". Germany looked like he already regretted what he was going to say "Bruder, are you sure you are alright? This is the third night in a row this has happened, and it is always that man's name".
Prussia started to get out of bed, he wasn't sure what he was going to do but he needed to be out of bed. He walked over to his brother and said curtly "I am really fine, it's just a reoccurring nightmare." That was a lie, but he didn't want to worry his brother more. The truth was that he had been having different nightmares about Iv-Russia every night, each as dark and passionate as the next. It had been nearly a week since the wall fell and Prussia was happy to be away from Russia. These dreams had started a few days after he left Russia, and they only seemed to get more real. Was he going crazy? It certainly felt like it.
Germany gave Prussia one more worried glance before leaving the room. Prussia walked to the bathroom and turned on the tap without glancing at the mirror. He pulled off the thin shirt he had been wearing and threw it into a corner of the room. He finally turned to the mirror, and he had to take a few steps backwards. He saw the version of himself that he had seen in his dream.
He shook his head and it was gone, his reflection was as it should be again. His time with Russia had changed his appearance slightly, though it was imperceptible to the untrained eye. He was slightly leaner and there was a kind of sinister look about him that unnerved even him when he looked in the mirror. Then there was the business of the dozens of scars that were clear on his chest, and the swastika that Russia had carved into his arm. Prussia had been careful to not let his brother see the scars, he didn't want the sympathy and he didn't want to see the look of horror. No doubt Ludwig would make a big deal out of it, and Prussia had become numb to the pain of them years ago.
He cupped his hands under the tap, which was running ice cold water. He splashed the cold water over his face and torso. He was trying to get rid of the feeling of heat that still clung to him from the dream. He was still shaking despite himself. He looked up at himself in the mirror again, noticing as he did that he was even paler than usual. An errant thought came to him I should have stayed with Ivan, then no one would think I was going crazy. He pushed the thought away as soon as it came to him, that was ridiculous. He would never go back to Russia of his own free will; he would never go back ever.
The words came back to him no matter what he tried "You are mine", those words that Russia had lorded over him for so long. But they were always different in his dreams, this time it had been "You will always be mine". Why was this happening? What had Russia done to him?
He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him. Germany had come back because he was really worried about his brother. He stood behind Prussia for a moment and then he said "Brother, your arm…." Prussia didn't even need to ask what had shocked his brother so much, he knew it was the swastika on his arm. He didn't even bother to turn around "Unsightly isn't it?"
Germany walked up to his brother and asked angrily "Did he do this to you while we were apart? Did Russia do this to you?" Prussia finally turned to face his brother and he said "If I said he did what would you do about it?" The indignation in Germany's eyes turned to confusion "Why does that matter? This is abuse!" Prussia pitied his naïve little brother, and vaguely wondered if he had been this naïve before he had been with Russia. He didn't know what to tell his brother to make him understand "Actually I think torture is the more accurate term. Call it what you will, it's over now".
Germany walked forward and put his hands on his brother's shoulders "How can you say that? You never would have taken something like this lying down before the war! Don't you want revenge?" Prussia looked into his brother's eyes and said "It doesn't matter anymore; I am far away from him. He can't hurt me anymore, that's all that matters". He brushed off his brother's hands and walked away.
Germany continued to stare at his brother's back and he said "What did he do to you? You never would have said anything like this before we were separated." Prussia was losing his patience with his brother; he turned to him and held up his wrists "What does this look like to you". He didn't know why he chose these scars to show Germany, maybe because there were slight indents over them where the handcuffs had been. Germany examined them for a moment "Are those scars?"
Prussia turned his wrist back toward himself; it was strange that the scars made him smile a little. He spoke more to himself than to Germany "Poor little phoenix, thinking he could be stronger than the flames." Germany looked even more confused "What are you talking about?" Prussia ignored him "The stupid bird flew right into the heart of the flames, and now all he has is his burns. But can he blame the fire for what it did, because it is all it knows?" Germany looked even more alarmed "Are you saying that you don't blame Russia for what he did to you?"
Prussia closed his eyes and tried to collect his thoughts. What was he saying? Of course he hated Russia for what the bastard did to him, why was he defending him? He was talking without thinking about what he was saying, that was all it was. He slowly opened his eyes and tried for a reasonable response "That's not what I meant to say, I do hate that ублюдок for what he did. I'm not thinking clearly right now, I need sleep". He hoped that he had stopped anymore questions about his time with Russia.
His brother was looking at him with shock and confusion. He couldn't understand it, had he said something wrong? Germany took a deep breath before saying "That was Russian, when you swore it was in Russian". The words hit Prussia like blows, surely he hadn't. He only knew Russian because Russia had forced him to learn, he couldn't have used it without knowing. But the look in his brother's eyes told him differently.
This couldn't be happening, he was losing his mind. It was just like he had dreamed it, he was turning into Russia. He couldn't be crazy like that bastard was crazy, insanity didn't work that way. He tried to steady himself against the confusing onslaught of feelings. He started shaking even more, so much that his legs almost gave out. There was no use in keeping up this act; his brother could see how weak he was. He raised his shaking hands in front of his face "What the fuck is happening to me?" Then he collapsed into his brother's arms
A/N: If you are confused, then you probably haven't read the first fanfic in this series. This story will make a lot less sense if you haven't read my first pRussia fanfic "Break Me". And if you have read it, then you are less confused. Please review. I will try to get a chapter of this done every week, but school is starting and that will make it much harder for me to get chapters done
