Russia knew it was coming all along.
He had tried to warn Nicholas, but his boss had other personal issues to deal with.
Russia felt sorry for his czar, but there was no other way to save him than to warn him.
It was on a very peaceful night, calm like no other, when Russia could feel the revolutionaries marching toward his czar.
He knew what to do- for he had dealt with the bloodshed of his people before.
Sighing sadly, he went into the room where his three Baltic nations were huddled, whispering no doubt, about him. They would never understand what he went through every night.
He cleared his throat, causing the smaller countries to simultaneously gasp and turn their heads.
"No one is to enter my room or disturb me tonight."
The three nations, shaking, nodded their heads in fear.
Russia turned his back, feeling their wide-eyes staring at his back.
Slowly, he made his way to his cold, dark room.
Quietly, he laid on his bed on his back, took a deep breath, and finally shut his eyes.
He sensed footsteps. He closed his eyes even tighter.
A faint echoing in his ears said-
"I'm sorry sir, but it's what's best for our Russia."
Shots fired.
Russia gasped and clutched the edges of his bed as the horrible, all-too familiar sting of the bullets riddled his body. Of course, it wouldn't kill him, and he knew that. What scared him was the silence after the last shot had fired.
"It is finished."
That voice whispered again.
Russia relaxed for a moment.
Sunflowers.
Whenever he was in pain, he imagined himself surrounded by their bright, warm, smiling petals.
He could feel blood, his blood, soaking through the clothing on his chest and back.
Sunflowers- without a care in the world.
In that instant, his head felt an explosion of pain and confusion.
Sunflowers- now his czar's dead children were holding his sunflowers, dripping their blood all over them.
The awful liquid sloshed at his boots, and the smell filled his whole being with death.
The spell broke.
Russia was left alone, bleeding, and curled up into a sobbing ball on his bed.
He covered his face with his stained gloves, and he swore he could hear laughter as a rush of self-pity and hurt brought fresh tears to his eyes.
Did the other countries ever experience this? Did they feel the way he felt during nightmares like these? Or was he alone?
Russia sure felt very alone as his night passed in silence.