Warning: This story is quite dark. If you do not like bloody stories or get uncomfortable reading insanity, you might want to look for another story…

Under the Red Banner

We didn't know what we'd find that day, the day we went to Belarus. Many of us expected to find the nation in a state of panic or disaster. Others thought perhaps there would be people out in the streets mourning. But it wasn't like that. The country itself was very much how the rest of us remembered it; though it was obvious it was slowly going down, slowly dying. After all, Belarus herself had not been seen for several years now.

It was nearly thirty years ago now, before all the mess began. It was nearly thirty years ago when several of us— that is, several of us western nations—spoke together at a world conference and decided that Russia's influence over his younger sister was not right. Even though he was no longer the U.S.S.R, his influence was still very strong over his sister; very oppressive, always keeping her away from others. She never complained about it, however. We all knew of her strange love for her brother, but we still pitied her. Who wouldn't? It was decided among us that she did not complain because she knew nothing else, she did not know the joy of freedom.

No other nation besides Ukraine was able to get close to the girl, and even then their visits resided under the watchful eye of Russia. Anyone else that tried to see Belarus was almost always chased away by the pipe-wielding nation. But even as he kept her from others, Russia did not bother to ever stay around his sister much, not troubled with the fact that the girl was isolated, out and away from society. He never took the time to witness her loneliness, never cared. It was cruel, and we had all had enough.

Several of us went to Belarus and tried to talk her into coming with us those thirty years ago, told her that we'd help her. It had been no small feat, after all, to sneak there without Russia finding out, and we'd thought that our determination and bravery would prove our willingness to help. We had thought it would show her that her life really was a lonely one, restricted.

Her response, however, was sharp and cold, almost mechanical, nearly automatic. "I have no need to go. My big brother takes care of me."

"But Miss Belarus," England had pleaded. "You rarely see anyone. You never speak at the world meetings. You're basically a hostage in your own home! Kept here by your bro—"

"You should go," she interrupted frostily. "My big brother takes care of me."

"But he's locked you away!" France had cried. "Do you not want to go out into the world, see it for yourself? Do you not want to find love—"

"I have no need to go," she repeated flatly. "My big brother takes care of me."

And we were forced to accept that. She did not seem happy that we had come to her at all, and seemed even less pleased that we were accusing Russia of treating her badly. But he was, and we all wished that she would have seen that. It was hard to go, knowing that she would have to remain there, alone in her seclusion. I couldn't help but wonder then if Russia would come see her that day, but of course, he never did.

A month went by and poor Belarus remained alone. Rumor of our visit to Belarus quickly spread, and Russia was not at all pleased when he found out. He quickly discovered the names of everyone who had come—whether Belarus herself had proved helpful in disclosing our names, no one can really say for sure—but he found us all, one at a time, and beat us. It might have been seen as a declaration of war had it been anyone else, but since it was Russia, no one said much of it. His rage was partially blamed on leftover hostility with nations after the Cold War and the fall of the U.S.S.R. Others said it was due to the buildup of economic stress. And still others tried to pass it off as a brother's concern for his younger sister, but all of these reasons were a lie.

But in any case, he found us and beat us all. His eyes had turned black, had darkened with his insanity. "Western nations have no business in the east!" he'd screamed between the swings of his pipe.

It had taken several months for the wounds to heal, and by that time, another world meeting had been set up to smooth over relations. Russia stayed close to Belarus for the duration of the meeting, and we all tried to act like nothing had happened. There were a few, myself included, that felt as though Russia should not have gotten away with his crime, but due to his foul temper at the time, we'd decided it was best not to breach the topic.

That night, after most of the other nations had gone to bed, several of us decided to stay up and have a drink. We were all tired, but our minds would not let us rest. We were still upset with Russia and we had just decided that perhaps it was time to make more plans, when Belarus appeared. We did not know where she came from or how she had gotten away from Russia, but she was there, and she sat very still between France and Canada.

"Good evening, Miss Belarus," England greeted. "What brings you here?"

She had looked terrible that night, her face paler than normal and her dress looked a bit wrinkled. Her eyes looked a bit red, like she had been crying, but her face was set in stone, her usual scowl resting heavily upon her lips, making her look quite severe. We had all been curious as to why she was in such a condition, but no one dared ask.

She looked around the table at all of us, her stormy blue eyes taking in everything, making us feel horribly exposed. "You're injuries are all healed," she said bluntly, her voice had been hard as steel.

"They are," France answered, though I still do not know where he got the courage.

The room went silent for several minutes after that. None of us felt comfortable with Belarus sitting there amongst us. She was intimidating by herself without the unspoken threat of Russia hanging over us. But she did not seem to notice our discomfort, or if she did, she did not choose to notice. After what felt like an eternity, she finally looked away from all of us and peered down at her hands curiously. "Why aren't you dead?" she asked suddenly.

Several uneasy chuckles were let out, no one remembers who exactly it was that did so, but that was not important as we were faced with the angry looking girl. "Well…what happened to us was not enough to kill nations, I suppose," I'd laughed, not knowing what to say.

She turned and looked at me then, those stormy eyes alight with an insanity we all chose to ignore by turning away. "Then how do you kill a nation?" she'd asked us.

At that, we all laughed. We needed to laugh, lest we begin to cry. The question itself was innocent enough amongst nations. It is true that we do not die, or at least in the sense that humans can comprehend. Truth be told, we do not fully understand it ourselves, but the concept of death among nations has been questioned by personifications since the beginning of our kind's creation. How do nations die? How would you kill a nation? They are common questions, but they came from such an uncommon girl, and we did not like the implications this question prompted.

So we laughed because we did not really want to think of why she wanted to know. Many of us presumed that she only asked because we had all survived our encounter with her brother even after Russia had beat us to death's door. It seemed so logical that the next question would be about the death of nations, and of course we did not believe her to want the knowledge for anything other than simple curiosity.

"Nations die when their leaders dissolve them," England explained patiently, smiling, though he looked ill. "Or I suppose that they die when a newer, stronger nation is born and claims their land. But we've all been hurt rather badly at one time or another, eh?"

She did not answer. With the information disclosed, she stood from the table and simply walked away. We all sat there for a moment, and when she was out of sight, released a sigh of relief. We did not understand why she would ask such odd questions. She was old enough to understand by now, and yet we could not assume too much seeing as Russia locked her away. Perhaps she had honestly never been told. So, the strangeness of the question was forgotten for the most part, though rumor had it that Belarus wished that her brother had been able to kill us, but she never said a word about it, and life went on.

…That is, until the day Russia was on the news. Time had gone on, certainly, with no one all too concerned about the future. It started off rather slowly, actually. It was reported, almost as a side thought, on the news that there were some fires that had broken out in Russia. It was certainly nothing new, and many of us largely ignored it as the Russian government played down the severity of the situation. By the following day, that little piece of hearsay was all but forgotten.

The following week, however, reports came in that the crops in Russia were dying due to pests. It seemed quite unusual, but, again, the Russian government said it was nothing serious, and refused any reporter wanting to know more. It seemed that Russia wanted no pity, but we could not help but think it was peculiar that aid was even refused. How were they going to feed themselves? What were they going to do?

But again, with no new intelligence, the world was forced to make up their own, everyone coming up with their own stories as to Russia's strange behavior. Gossip began flying left and right with no signs of stopping, but Russia himself never made an appearance nor did his government explain anything in great detail. It was all so bizarre, but when it became apparent that no information was going to be given by the Russians, interest seemed to fall away soon enough and other countries soon took up the spot light on the world stage again.

With other concerns springing up around the world, we all left the matters of the east to the east. Russia must have been serious when he did not want us to get involved with his business when he would not even accept our help with his disasters. But this was not so unthinkable, seeing as the U.S.S.R's attitude had been much the same. And so, life went on.

One year later, we all gathered together for a world meeting. The situation in Russia had slowly been spiraling downward from what Mongolia and China said, but again, Russia himself had not come out with any statements. In fact, he did not even attend the world meeting that year. Belarus was there, and she remained quiet, like always. Ukraine, however, was terribly anxious and she openly wept for her brother's situation. Russia had refused to see her, apparently.

Many things were discussed at that meeting, but Russia and his situation was not the number one concern at the times. And again, when it was all said and done, when Russia did come up again, it was decided that no one could really do anything. If he did not want our help, we could not force it on him without making matter worse. Those of us that had gone to see Belarus over a year ago still remembered the pain the large nation had inflicted upon us. When the meeting came to a close, we all went our separate ways and once more, Russia only in the back of our minds.

Years went by and the situation in Russia worsened. More fires broke out, the Krasnoklutchevskaya Dam had burst, and still crops in Russia refused to grow. That was when a group of us went to see Belarus again. We asked her about what she knew. She did not answer any of our questions.

"What's going on with your brother?" we had all asked at one point or another, but she did not answer.

"Do you even know what's wrong with him?" Again, she would not speak. She just stared at us with furious, dark eyes.

We were not so much angry with her as upset. We could not be angry with her for keeping her brother's trust, but we were exasperated that she would not help us. All we wanted to do was help, but she held her peace.

"At least let us help you," England pleaded. "Why don't you come with us?"

"I have no need to go. My big brother takes care of me," she'd replied tartly.

"You're big brother can't even really take care of himself at the moment! How is he going to take care of you?" I'd cried.

She was not at all pleased with this and promptly kicked us out of her house. And we all went, defeated and aggravated. They needed help, but they would not let us. It was terrible. But we could not help them if they would not let us, and so we went on our way, hoping that at least Belarus would come to her senses and call us soon.

But it was not Belarus who crumbled under the pressure first. After another two years, the Russian government asked for aid after the Saint Petersburg Dam had burst as well. Everyone had become so concerned over Russia that they were willing to help, though we could not help but scoffed at the Russian's stubborn pride. After all, they had clearly needed help, why would they refuse?

It turned out that they had a very great reason to refuse. As it turned out, Russia had been missing these past three and a half years. No one knew where he went, no one knew where he could be. His government had been frantically searching for him all this time, while having to deal with such disasters. The large personification had simply vanished, leaving his people to fear invasion with his absence.

When it was admitted that the nation was gone, many of us got together again and insisting to look through the house, demanding immediate action be taken. The government allowed us into Russia's house, which had been sealed some two years ago. We were followed closely by Ukraine and Belarus.

The house itself was cold and dark. Dust sat on everything and the air was stale. We searched the house top to bottom, but there was not a trace of the big nation anywhere. Belarus stayed on the main floor with Ukraine, who was wailing and shaking with grief.

All of the rooms were alike, cold and empty. There was no trace of life anywhere. We found Russia's office, the door broken in when the Russian's had been searching for him within the first few months of their nation's disappearance. The office though, frightened me the most. It stood as though Russia had had every intention of returning, but he never had. There were papers still staked on the desk neatly arranged and even a planner was sitting open, showing his checklist for the day. There sat what we had all presumed to have been a sunflower at one point, but the plant had long ago gone, and stained the pot black. It was just like he had stepped out of the room expecting to return within an hour or so. It was disturbing.

There was no trace of foul play, no evidence. There was simply nothing, no clues, no nothing. Russia was just gone. And because of that, his land, his people, were all suffering. Because there was nothing at the house, a nationwide search was enacted, and Russia became the most wanted man in the world.

But after a year of searching the whole of Russia for the missing personification, and with no solutions found, the Russian people became frantic. They needed someone, something, to blame, and the blame was swiftly passed to all of us who had confronted Belarus four year before. It was said that we did something to him out of revenge for him beating us. We denied this, of course, but everyone assumed it was us, and no other excuse was good enough. And so the search was widened, and soon nation after nation had their homes searched and their personification interrogated.

This went on for years. With each nation being searched, no clues sprung forward. Ukraine pleaded with the world, begging the person who had her brother to just let him go. She even offered to pay a ransom to whoever did. But because no one had her brother, no one stepped forward, and the mystery became more and more baffling. Belarus, the wretched girl, said nothing, simply stayed with her sister and held the older girl. At the time, we pitied them both.

Wild stories began to circulate about the disappearance of Russia. No one could think of what had happened to the nation. But slowly, fifteen years after the disappearance, the world seemed able to go on. All the nations stepped forward to help Russia, but the land itself seemed in decay, as though dying with the loss of its master. It was soon decided that one of the other nations would have to step forward and take control of the land as Russia seemed to have no replacement, and no new personifications were discovered.

Debates raged and it seemed everyone believed that they were the only ones that could take up the harsh land. China was in the foreground of demanding control, but he had no real legitimate claim. Mongolia also stepped forward, and even Japan wanted claim at least some of the land. The Eastern Europeans also stepped forward and offered to take some of the land as well. No one could actually think of any reason as to why the land should not be split apart and reclaimed.

It was only Belarus who flatly refused to split up the land that had once belonged to her brother. "Big brother would not like it," she'd insisted.

"But he has not come back," China snapped. "If he has not come back by now, he's never coming back."

"Big brother would not like it," she'd said again, staring down her nose at China, eyes burning almost black.

Because of her, we decided to open the arrangements again. We knew how much she'd loved Russia, and for her sake, we offered once more to take care of her. After all, it was a hard to lose a family member. But just like all the other times, she refused, and went on her way, believing that her brother would take care of her.

We began to worry for Belarus then. Russia was gone now and only his land survived. We were taking care of the land, but we began to be troubled more and more about Belarus. She had almost always had her brother to care for her, and ever since his disappearance, she did not open up nor did she accept any aid offered to her, insisting that what her big brother had left her was sufficient.

It was sad that she was denying herself so. Ukraine and several others of us would go to Belarus, but eventually, she refused to see us. It seemed she believed that only Russia could support her, only Russia would ever be able to get close to her. Not even Ukraine was permitted to see her after a time. Belarus's whole life had revolved around Russia, and Russia was all she would allow as company.

In the end, she shut herself up so that no one could ever see her. She remained lost in her isolation and no one could get close. It worried us all, but with all of the other issues remaining, with finding someone to secure Russian land and stabilize it, we soon left Belarus to herself, believing then that she would deal with her grief and come out of it herself. For that's what we all assumed was wrong with Belarus, that she was merely grieving.

Time began fading away and Belarus slowly started to crumble. It was not all that surprising considering she refused support, but no one seriously sought her out anymore. Instead, we all sent her messages, even ambassadors, but she listened to none of them and we took no further action. We hoped that she would see her error soon before she destroyed herself, but that never actually came.

So, thirty years ago from the time we had initially gone out to see Belarus, Ukraine sent out messages all over the world, pleading for help. We all almost literally dropped everything and went to her, the situation on Eastern Europe still in unrest. When we arrived, Ukraine rushed us all to Belarus. We could not fully understand what had Ukraine so upset, but we went where she lead, expecting the worst.

When we arrived in Belarus, we didn't know what to expect. We thought that there'd be some sort of outward sign, but there was not. Things were pretty much like what they had been the last time we were there. But we did not have time to study much as Ukraine rushed us to her sister's house. Many of us thought that perhaps Belarus had finally fallen ill.

Belarus's house came into view and we had to break down the door. The sight that greeted us was terrible. On the wall, written in blood, were the words, "I figured it out."

We rushed through the house, Ukraine desperately calling out her sister's name, crying. We were all sick with worry, but we did not have to wonder much about what had happened. There was a neat trail of blood that led us right to the upstairs bedroom. The door was left unlocked, and we charged in.

Ukraine screamed at the sight she'd seen, falling to her knees. The rest of us stopped dead in our tracks, some of the others looked away. But I stepped forward, feeling numb. Belarus was lying in bed, wearing only a night gown and covered in her own blood. She'd sliced open her wrists and her legs, her throat looked like it had been torn out. The smell was horrendous and the sight nauseating, but that's not what really disgusted me.

There was a suitcase that sat next to the dresser that did not belong to her. On the chair beside the bed was a large, men's coat, laid over it carefully, as though a precious robe. On the floor, boots far too large to belong to a woman sat standing up as though they had just been slipped off. While Belarus's blood seemed to smear the left half of the room, it was not the only blood there. Under her were blood stains from decades before. On the nightstand, there sat a jar, and in it floated a heart, and from the heart were needles sticking out like a pin cushion. A blood soaked scarf was draped over the headboard like a glorious banner celebrating a victory.

And lying there, next to Belarus, rotting into the bed itself, his arms stretched out, as though in a loving embrace, were the remains of Russia, his skeleton forever smiling.

Author's Note: I just read A Rose for Emily … and it reminded me of Belarus. . …I really have nothing else to say on this…so please review as I'd be most beholden to ya. ^^ Thanks!