Unveiled

by Scarheart of DarkClan

No one ever bothered to ask her story. No one cares much about her now - but they once did. Once she was normal - but something changed and snapped her. Something made Belarus the way she is.

This is non-historical and has no connection to real historical events or the actual history of Belarus. This is based purely on the events that could possibly lead up to the state of mind we find the character of Belarus in during Hetalia. The countries begin portrayed as humans and the rest will make sense as you go.

I have often felt Belarus is often tossed to the side as a one-sided character who is only murderous and/or crazy. Few stories show a different perspective to her. Here, I'm trying to expose the missed childhood of such a charater. In doing so, I'm experimenting with writing a dynamic character that changes over the course of the story.

For those of you who are sensitive, this is rated T for a reason. You will find violence, murder, abuse, attempted rape, some language, and other mature related topics. This is meant for 13 and up whom I believe can handle the themes. If under that age, read with discretion.

When writing this, I was under the impression that Belarus and Ivan had silver/gray/white hair while Ukraine had blonde/brown. It plays a somewhat big point in Belarus' development, so I couldn't change it. Just go along with my thoughts for the point of a good story.

I use human names and country names in ways you will understand while reading. Here are the names I have chosen to use:

Belarus - Natalia

Russia - Ivan

Ukraine - Katyusha (Katie)

Lithuania - Toris

Latvia - Ravis

Estonia - Eduard

Fem!China - Yian

Poland - Felkis

Before you start reading, make sure you have time to reach the bottom for it is a monstorous one-shot. The ending is something my English class has been working on - it is meant to make you think and draw your own conclusion (basically, it feeds on your imagination). Though, if I ever feel like writing Belarus again, there might possibly be a second chapter.

One huge thanks to Darkluvumbreon who was my Belarus expert and beta-reader. She helped make this story come together so wonderfully.

So without further delay, the truth is UNVEILED!

---

The five of us: father, brother, sister, mother, and myself, were sitting around the fireplace. The flames crackled into the air like shooting stars. Every time one would pop extra loud, I'd squeal and clap my hands for the special show.

I could hear the wind whistling outside the walls, but I was safe inside. My mother's warm arms were wrapped around me and both her heat and the blaze of the fire warmed me from head to toe.

Brother had tied his aging blue scarf around my neck just to make me laugh. The rough wool fibers rubbed against the fine hairs on my neck.

"It tickles, Brother," I giggled, squirming around on my mother's lap. Moving just made me laugh harder, and I rolled up into a ball, clutching my stomach. Small tears were running out of my eyes as I looked up at Mother's face.

Even as I could barely keep my eyes open, I could see this look in her eyes, some look I couldn't identify, but something inside told me it wasn't a good look.

I forgot that completely as Brother started to really tickle me. Tears were coming from my eyes quicker now, and my belly hurt from laughing so much. "Stop," I shouted, but my words were drowned out by my constant laughter.

"Come on little sister," I could just hear Brother over the sound of my self. He was laughing too as he kept his hands moving, "What do you say?"

Normally, I would hang in a little longer, fight back a little more, but right now Katyusha walked into the room with a tray of hot cocoa in her hands. "Uncle," my voice shouted, as I tried to sit up straight again, "You win, you win. Let me go!"

"Ivan," shouted my father, looking up from his book for the first time. The look on his face was poisonous, and his hostility was tangible. "What are you doing to your little sister?" His deep and foreboding eyes stared right at the two of us.

Brother looked nervous, and Sister just stood in the doorway with the mugs. Mother put her soft hand on Brother's knee, and she drew me closer to her body. Exhausted and toasty from my giggling, I struggled out of her grip and squeezed right next to Brother.

"We were just playing, Father," he said, unwrapping his scarf from my neck. The threads breathed their last breath and fell apart on his lap. The look on his face was so dejected and pitiful, that I had to bite my lips to keep more laughter from erupting from my throat. "No harm done," he repeated, " Nobody was harmed."

"If you say so," he said, recrossing his legs and propping them back up on the table. He picked up his book, gazing at all of us over the top of the pages. "I just don't want to see you doing it again," he scolded, his words frosty.

We wouldn't play anymore? I didn't understand much of what Father had been saying, but did he seriously want us to stop playing? I loved playing and if Father loved me, he'd let me play. I wiggled away from Mother and Brother to make my declaration.

I was about to shout it out when I noticed how the rest of my family didn't move and were staring anxiously at Father. It was like he was a pot of soup about to boil over.

Mother tugged me back down and placed me next to Brother. Stuffed between the two of them, I could barely move. I think that was what they wanted to happen.

Sister was rocking back and forth in the doorway, not sure what to make of the change in mood. Her chest moved back and forth, and her eyes flashed between Father and Mother - like she knew something I didn't.

I saw Brother looking at her, but I had eyes only for what she was carrying. If I wasn't allowed to play, there was no way I was going to bed without having my hot chocolate.

I don't know why everyone else looked so worried; Father would never hurt us; we were his children and like all parents, he would sometimes get mad. And Mother would always be there protect us from the worse.

I motioned Katie towards me, but she had eyes only for Mother – waiting for her permission.

"Bring in the hot chocolate, Katie," said my mother, giving Father this look, "I think we could use something sweet right now." She patted the open seat right next to her.

Sister walked nervously past Father's chair and slipped next to Mother somewhat gracefully. She whispered something in her ear that was too quiet for me to hear, but it probably wasn't important.

"Did you put marshmallows in it?" I asked, giving my biggest smile. I climbed over Mother's lap and right onto Sister's. The cocoas nearly toppled off the tray resting on her knees.

Brother reached over to steady them and sent a weak smile to Father. He was watching us with concealed amusement disguised as disdain. I wiggled right between Sister and Mother, tucking my head in their arms.

His eyes were scaring me. I buried my head even deeper into their clothes, so close that I could smell the warm summer breeze that always seemed to wrap around her. I could feel Katie's arm sling around my small shoulders.

"I'll take you upstairs, Natty," cooed my mother as she shifted me into her arms. "I think it's time for you to go to bed. "

"But what about my cocoa?" I whined, "Katie makes the best hot cocoa ever, and I think she put marshmallows in it just for me. Put me down!" I brought my little fists down against her back, kicking and trying to wiggle out of her clasp.

"You've got to be quiet," said Mother, putting a finger against my mouth. She picked me up and held me in the air until I stopped struggling. "You've got to learn when is a good time to speak and when it isn't." She seemed to be speaking loud enough for father to hear, but now her volume dropped, "Trust me, you'll need it later in life."

I just looked at her, my mouth sealed. She kept speaking like there was a secret that was being kept from me. "So, no hot cocoa for me?" I asked, reaching to latch onto her.

She brought me back close to her body and placed a finger on my lip and a kiss on my forehead. "Shush," she breathed out.

My mother stayed quiet as she soundlessly opened the door to my room. She propped me against the headboard while she pulled back the covers. I wanted to ask her about my hot cocoa, but I sensed that she was teaching me to hold my tongue.

She patted my silver hair as I wiggled under the fluffy covers. "Katie will bring it to you as soon as Winter goes to bed," she told me, sitting on the chair right beside me bed. She must be mad with Father if she was calling him Winter; I was glad I was too young to know.

The world was so much friendlier when I didn't understand all the hatred and confusion underneath. Days were much more fun when you could never get hurt. But if I couldn't play, maybe I would have to learn to understand.

Oh well, right now I was still going to get my hot cocoa.

"Thanks Mommy," I said to her, reaching up to play with her blond hair that Sister had gotten. "Bedtime story?" I asked, trying to look cute. I clasped my hands to me chest and opened my eyes as wide as I could. "Pretty please," I begged.

Giving me a kiss on the head, Mother smiled. "You're getting too old for stories. This night will be you're last one." Her voice dropped off at the end, and I assumed she was getting all teary that I was growing up.

"No!" I shouted before clamping my hand back over my mouth. "This can't be my last one. I will never ever be too old for story time. I'm not growing up, " I whined, dropping my volume so only Mother could hear me. I pounded my fists against the mattress and picked up my pillow.

"You're a feisty one, aren't you," asked my mother, pulling the pillow out of my hand. She put the pillow beneath my head, pushed me down against the bed, and pulled the covers up around me - again.

"Yes," I said, pretending to snap at her hand with my pointy teeth. "I won't eat your hand if you promise to tell me stories forever and ever."

"You're growing up, Natty," she said, petting my hair, trying to soothe me. "But just think of tonight. What story do you want to hear? You'd better pick a good one." There were tears at the corners of her eyes, refusing to fall down.

I grew solemn, and I'm sure I had a very serious expression in my eyes. What story should be my last story? "Tell me the one about how you and Father meet."

There was a shocked look on my mother's face that flashed away as quickly as it appeared. "Do you really want to hear that one? How about the time your brother made the huge snow castle?"

I crossed my arms over top of my blanket and looked Mother straight in the face. "I want to hear that one. You said I could pick, and that is the one I've picked."

"Okay, little sunflower. We'll do it your way," she said, kissing my hairline on my forehead. Her voice was so sweet, that I felt myself not even listening to the words, but drifting off into a deep sleep.

I vaguely felt the covers being pulled up to right below my chin, but I didn't hear the words she softly whispered in my ear.

"Good bye, my beautiful sunflower."

---

The world was white outside my window; snow had plastered to everything and the sun glistened off the surface. I leaped out of my bed to get a better look, letting out a little screech as my toes hit the cold floor.

I turned around as soon as I bumped into the window. On my nightstand, my cup of hot cocoa was sitting there, cold and forgotten. Grinning, I jumped back over to it.

Looking over, I could see the residue of marshmallows, the white film they left behind after being melted. Katie had given me marshmallows! Sticking my fingers in, I scooped a huge blob and let the sweetness run down my throat.

Picking it up the mug to take a huge gulp, I put it right back down. There was a note right under it penned on my mother's orange stationary. I could see her handwriting bleeding through the paper.

Maybe she had created a treasure hunt for me like when I was younger. I ripped open the letter and eagerly started to read.

My little Natalia,

I love you more than anything in this whole, cold world. You are a beautiful little girl with hair like frozen sun rays and eyes like a cold December sky. You are special in ways you have let to understand.

When you get older, don't blame yourself for what I did. If anything, you and your siblings are the reason I stayed so long with your father. You were like my shining light.

But, I had to leave. I'm not meant to be this far North. The cold winds age my body, and I could feel myself slipping away. The cruel hand of your father was too much for me.

Katyusha is going with me, for she too has sunshine running in her veins. Someday, we will come to take you away.

Just trust in Ivan. He will protect you and be there for you.

Never forget how much I love you,

Mother Summer

I dropped the letter like it was on fire. It wasn't a treasure hunt, it wasn't anything good.

It must be a lie or some cruel joke. I tried to remember when the Trickster's Day was, but I knew it wasn't today. There was nothing I could think of to falsify the note.

"Mother," I choked out, walking out of my room. Sniffling, I didn't hear the sound her of singing as she warmed milk and bread for breakfast. The house sounded strangely empty and barren.

Tears were blocked in my eyes, my emotions too high-strung for them to spill over. I pushed opened my Sister's door and stopped dead in my tracks.

Her room was empty. All her clothes were gone. The candle on her dresser had burned all the way down to a stump.

I ran onto her bed and buried my head into her sheets. They were cold, and I knew she hadn't slept in them last night. How long had they been planning this? Had she made me hot chocolate knowing she wouldn't be there when I woke up?

Why were Ivan and I left here? Were we too much like our father? Ivan had his hair, but I had both his silver hair and ice blue eyes. Maybe Katie was taken because she looked just like Mother; blond hair and purple eyes.

These questions – I would ask when she came back. She had promised me that. That was the shining light of the letter. Mother would come back for me. She'd sweep me away, and we'd run to her world of sun and rainbows.

I lay there wondering until it was too painful. My heart not longer seemed to be beating in my chest. There were too many questions that had no answers.

With my head buried into her pillow, I couldn't feel the tears pouring from my eyes, soaking her blankets the color of cream. They were warm and salty as I breathed them in, tasting them on my tongue and lips.

I could feel the sun shining on my back as it rose higher in the sky, but the heat was nothing. It wasn't anywhere near warm enough to thaw the pain that had implanted itself in my heart.

Grief – it was exhausting, but I didn't want to sleep. Maybe this time I closed my eyes, something even worse would happen; though, it was hard to imagine anything worse.

Over my sobs that left me shaking and empty, I heard the door to Katie's room open. I perked up, my mind telling me it had all been just a terrible dream. I cried out in joy as through a blurred perspective, I saw purple.

"Mommy!" My voice cracked as I found energy I thought I no longer had. I threw myself around the figure in the doorway, not expecting to feel hardened muscle beneath my arms.

"Natty," said my brother's deep voice. He wrapped me up in his arms and held me tight against him. So close that I could hear his heart beating and taste the salt of his tears. "Natty."

My name seemed to be the only word he could speak. But there was no reason to talk. I could feel his fresh tears drip into my hair – my silver hair like Father's.

Mother said Ivan would protect me, but he was just a weak as I was. His tears brought new ones to my eyes, soaking his white undershirt. I wasn't alone, but the loss hurt more than anything I ever could have imagined.

"Why?" I managed to choke out. My words were so blurred with tears, but Brother knew what I was asking. Why were we left behind?

I battered my fists at his chest, my lack of understanding making me furious. He just let me hit him, and I hated him for it. He let my fists hit him until I was too tired to be angry.

"I don't know," he said at last. He held my little hands in his bigger ones, snuffing a little to clear his nose and to disguise his tears. "I don't know, my little sunflower."

I looked up when he said that. That was always what Mother had called me – it was her special pet name for me. "I don't feel much like a sunflower now," I told him, my words barely audible, whispered against his chest.

"We've got to forget about her," he told me, wrapping me even closer, so close that I could smell his toothpaste and the scent of his candle. A new scarf was wrapped around his neck and rubbing against my face, but I didn't feel like laughing- not today, not ever. "She left us, Natty. It is just the two us of now."

"She shouldn't have left us," I snuffled, clenching his shirt in my small fists, "She said she loved me. She obviously didn't. She is a big meanie liar." I kicked a blanket that had fallen to the floor, sending it sprawling across the room.

"Natty," cooed Ivan, his own word making more tears fall onto my face, "just forget her. Pretend life with her was just a bad dream that would be better to forget."

I buried my head in his arms. Mother wasn't a bad dream. She wasn't anything like the nightmares I would have when I was even younger.

I didn't want to forget Mother. Her smell like the flowers of summer. The way she would sing as she washed dishes. The times when she would brush my hair – tie up my little blue bow. There were so many memories. But the memories were all painful. Even thoughts burned. To forget all the love would be to remove the pain.

We sat there without talking, hanging onto each other like we would drown in sorrow if we let go. His love kept my heart going; that was for sure.

---

"There is still work to be done," said Father, barging in on me and Ivan. His eyes weren't swollen red from crying; he probably hadn't shed a single tear. His nose was red, but I could tell from the snow in his hair that he had been outside.

He might have been looking for Mother's and Katie's tracks, but I could see he had been unsuccessful; the house was still quiet. I wasn't really sure what I thought about him searching for them. It hurt to think too deeply.

"Ivan," he shouted, making me dive into Ivan's chest, burying my face. "Wood needs to be chopped, and someone needs to hike to the village. Do you want us to freeze tonight just like your mother and sister?"

"Don't talk about them like that," he said, defending them though he told me to forget them. "They, they," he trailed off, and I knew he was trying to stop from crying in front of Father.

"They left you. Now put your coat on and get to work." He slapped Ivan clean across the check as he walked by. "That is for shedding tears, boy."

I cried out like that slap had marked my face instead of his. I curled around the pillow as Father slowly walked closer to me. There was a sway in his hips and a look in his eyes that sent nervous chills down my spine.

He drew his finger across my cheeks. It was like what Mother would do when I had injured myself, but there was nothing warm in his touch. His fingers were like cold icicles, and I shrunk against back against the wall.

I reached out and bit his finger, clamping hard on his flesh. He pulled his hand out of my mouth, and I could taste his blood, cold like the snow in the yard.

My triumph was short lived as his hand slapped against my face. My own blood welled out of my mouth, spilling down my face. It splattered red against Katie's bed, marring her room forever.

Tears ran into my mouth, blending with both my father's and my blood. My face was red. My eyes were swollen and my face stinging with my father's slap and my chin coated with my blood.

"Later, you can cry," spat Father, his spit joining the blood on my face. "Right now I need lunch. Your brother will need something too when he comes back."

I just curled closer to Katie's pillow, my split lip pressed against the soft fabric. It hurt to move. Living hurt without Brother to hold me.

I didn't want to do whatever Father wanted me to. He hurt me and no one was there to protect me. Brother would defend me when he got home.

Why did Father hurt me? He had never done anything so cruel ever before. I remember his scolding voice and how he had forbidden play last night, but he had never physically hurt me.

Why had Mother left me here? I punched the bed beneath me, fury building up in me. My heart hurt and my face was throbbing.

A scream ripped from my throat as Father grabbed the back of my nightgown to toss me off the bed and onto the cold floor. A red line formed on my neck where my dress had cut into my flesh.

"Get up," he shouted. I refused to move because it hurt. My chest felt restricted and clogged from my tears and all my snuffling.

"Get up now." His voice seemed coldly calm and completely monotone. Again, I didn't get up and curled into a tight ball.

"Leave me alone," I shouted, tears pouring down my face even as I tried to stop them. It was different to cry in front of him than it was to cry before Brother.

When my mouth closed, I promised I would never speak another word again to him. My silence would be my resistance for I could never truly fight him. I spat a red glob of mucus at his feet, sealing my deal to myself.

He left me crumbled up on the cold wooden floor, giving me a kick in the side to get up.

---

I looked at Brother's form disappearing into the snow. When I could no longer see the scarf Katie gave him blowing out behind him, I turned away from the window.

Everyday when he went hunting, I was all alone in the house with Father. When Ivan was gone, I felt Mother's disappearance even more keenly. But the pain had dulled to a constant, bitter ache.

What I feared the most was Father. His fingers were always touching me when Brother wasn't around. The cold fingers ran over my hips, on top of my small breasts, in the curve of my neck. Never any more, but I knew what he was thinking from that look in his eyes. And it scared me.

I wasn't a little girl any longer. How old I really was escaped me. It was Mother and Sister who had loved to celebrate, but they were gone and even thinking of birthday's brought back the pain like a fresh injury.

I wiped my tears that were slowly dripping down my face with the sleeves of my dress. I could feel Father eyes on me - on my too small clothing. When he left the doorway to the kitchen is when I let myself take a deep breath.

Bending down to reach the bottom cabinets, I felt my dress rip along my waist, showing a sliver of skin on my stomach and side. "Shit," I mumbled, knowing I would finally have to resort to the unspeakable- sneaking into Father's room to get one of Mother's old dresses.

I had put it off for ages for fear the Father would somehow discover and beat me harder than ever before. At least if I had nice fitting clothes while he beat me, other things wouldn't pop into his head.

I dragged a pile of potatoes, carrots, and dried fish to the counter. Heaving the large black cauldron from the corner, I set it on the fire place and began to stack the wood.

As I started the fire, I stared into the flames. They leaped up and down, dancing like they didn't have a care in the world. For a second, I envied the beautiful things.

Reaching my hand out, I felt the flames reach up and lick my fingers. The burning blackened the tips of my fingers, creating a different pain; one that burned instead of slowly eating away at my heart.

Reaching into the drawer, I found the knife. When brother was gone, this knife was my only friend. Brother always wondered where all my cuts came from. Why I was so pale?

Sliding it across the black prints on my hand, red blood started to spill. It dropped into the cauldron, sizzling as it hit the barely boiling water. Sometimes, I wanted the blood to spill from my heart and stain the floor a deep maroon that would forever scar the house.

But it wouldn't be a victory because Father didn't care. I hung onto life for Brother as he returned every day for me. Neither of us could fall asleep without knowing the other was safe in their room.

That was why I turned away from the blood in the pot and picked up the potato. The peels dropped into the pot soon followed by the full potato then another.

It was the same everyday, every fuckin' day. Same meal, same routine, same fear, same pain.

---

Father was still at the diner table, scarfing down his meal that was double of what either I or Ivan received. My stomach could eat itself, but if Ivan succumbed to starvation too, the end would be welcomed.

The steps were silent under my bare feet, my numb toes not able to feel the grooves in the wood. My heart caught in my chest as I heard the kitchen chair dragging across the floor. I waited frozen with my foot midair.

It wasn't 'till the chair slid back did I judge it safe to breathe again. My breaths were shallow and nervous, but I desperately needed a new dress. It had taken everything to hide the ripped seam from Father as he ran his fingers down my back.

His room sat at the end of his hallway. The door was something I had never passed through - forbidden to me even when Mother had been here. Even when I was happy.

My feet flew across the floor, walking like I would on a thin layer of snow. Slip in and slip out. That was all I needed to do, and I'd be safe from any further harm. There would be no new pain to add to my current troubles.

I eased the door open, slipping the knife I had stolen from the kitchen between the panel and the frame. The click of the lock was too loud. My eyes wandered to the edge of the staircase, expecting to Father come barreling up the stairs, broadsword in hand.

But he never came, and I opened the door all the way and stepped into the room. I was so shocked by the contents of his room that I failed to close the door behind me.

One side of the room was covered with pictures of Katie, Ivan, and myself. It was creepy, looking right at yourself in something that wasn't a mirror. Some looked like paintings, but several were incredibly clear.

Looking closer, I saw that near one third was dedicated just to myself. There were pictures of me as a baby right beside picture of a country landscape. My third had more question marks and arrows, like I was more confusing or something.

Tears subconsciously fell from my face when I saw Katie and Ivan, still young children, playing in the snow with Mother. They were in front of the huge snow castle Mother had tried to tell me about the night she left.

There was a label under the picture that drew my attention:

Ukraine and Russia build a huge castle out of pure snow. Possibly located in northern Europe or Asia.

Those weird names seemed to be mentioned throughout the wall. He seemed to dislike the names Natalia, Katyusha, and Ivan and instead calling us Belarus, Ukraine, and Russia, respectively.

Checking once that I was alone, I grabbed one of his notes off the wall and attempted to slip it into my dress pocket. When I heard the paper slip softly to the ground, I reached down to pick up and began searching for the trunk that I knew would contain my mother's clothing.

It was sitting in the corner, shining brighter than anything I had seen before. The gold knobs glistened in an imaginary sunlight, something I hadn't seen since Mother left.

Opening the trunk was far easier than I had thought. The gold seemed to be as light as the summer breeze that I swear was swirling around it. Right on top was a gown I had never seen Mother wear, but most have for there it was.

Picking it up, I held it closer to my chest. Closing my eyes, I could picture her in this dress, twirling around in the snow. It wasn't like the clothes she liked; the colors were darker and not as bright as the reds and yellows she had loved.

Father must have bought it for her. I knew that was the truth as soon as I thought it for only he would want to make her dark. But it still had been hers.

Not caring where I was, I slipped my old dress onto the ground. The seam finally giving way and falling to the floor in one flat piece.

I quickly put on the undergarments hidden under the gown. The white lace stuck to my body, and I could feel the heat being trapped against my body. For the first time, a smile formed on my face.

I was close to my mother. Though I couldn't be sure about Brother, I had never forgotten her. Wrapping my arms around my chest, I felt as those it was her arms holding me just like she did before... before she left.

Fresh tears dripped down from my face as I slipped on the blue overcoat. Adding the blue stripped ribbon around my waist and one to match my hair in my collar, I looked at my reflection.

I didn't see Mother staring back at me; I looked too much like Father. Touching my hair, the silver strands marked me as Father's daughter. Picking up my knife, I started to shear of my hair. Only my bangs fell to the ground when I felt ice grip my wrists.

My knife dropped to the floor, the metal clattering and forcing me to look in the mirror. Blue eyes were staring into my blue eyes.

Keeping the promise I had made to myself as I thought I lay dying, I said not a word to him. My silence didn't unnerve me but it didn't unnerve him either. Silence was a constant presence along side my pain; only disappearing when I was by Ivan's side.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, my right wrist still grasped in his hand. He started to trail his free hand down my new dress, pinching the sides of my breasts.

Still I didn't say a word. I closed my eyes and prayed to whomever was listening that it would be over soon.

"If you won't tell me, I'll assume the worst. I don't like to assume that, but it has the best punishment."

His voice was so flat, I had to bit down on my tongue to keep shivers from running rampant down my back. My mouth was filled with the taste of salt – from tears or blood, I wasn't sure: both, neither, none?

Suddenly he put both hands on my hips and spun me around. My back was pressed against the reflective glass and my hands pushed against his chest, trying to wiggle away.

"Little bitch," he spat, crushing his lips onto mine. For a second, my body froze; he had never taken in this far before. My system was in shock, my nerves trying to tell my unresponsive body what to do.

When he pressed harder and I could taste his spit mixing with my blood and tears. Balling my hands into angry fists, I bit down hard on his lips.

He tried to tug away, but I wouldn't let him go. His blood wasn't warm like mine, but it was as cold as ice. Finally, I pushed him away and spit the contents of my mouth on the floor.

The exit to the door was too far away, so I lunged for my knife that had fallen on the floor beside me. It gleamed silver like the sliver of hope that was quickly disappearing in me.

Just as my hands closed around the handle, I felt my father plant his huge foot on my back. My stomach, empty and growling, was pushed into the floor and I cringed as I imagined my dress, Mother's dress, ripping.

I hated not being able to see him, but I knew he had bent down for I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. I couldn't stop my small hairs from rising in both fear and adrenaline.

"You will be my whore," he breathed, disgusting breath swirling onto my neck. His lips touched my skin, and I clenched my knife all the tighter. "Just like your precious mother."

Something inside me snapped. I could handle his cold indifference towards Mother's leaving for sometimes I wished I had no feelings. But his casual reference to her as whore – whatever that was- that was going over the edge.

He just broke the rule that Mother or Katie was not to be mentioned, and he broke it in the worse way you could. Nobody called her a whore if she wasn't there to defended herself.

"No!" I screamed, flipping over to plunge my knife into whatever flesh I could find. Over and over again, I felt blood and flesh rip beneath my hand. I could hear his moans and his pain, but I didn't care. The gurgling of his blood – cold and dark – was like music to me.

Removing my knife, I pulled back and stabbed him straight through the throat. He toke one last breath, wheezing through the holes I had stabbed in his lungs.

Rolling out from under him, I slowly rose to my feet to survey the scene before me. My knuckles were white just like Father's face.

Words were forming on his lips, but I didn't want to hear them. As hard as I could, I slammed my one fist under his jaw and my other dead on his forehead.

Standing up, my whole frame was shaking. There was only one person left for me.

---

Brother was in his room. I already knew that because it was this time everyday that I would join him to just share the knowledge that we were still alive.

My hand slipped when opening the door knob to leave a red hand print dripping right next to it. On the second try, it wouldn't turn. The blood had made it all slippery and all I could feel besides my beating heart was the wet blood squelching around.

Knocking was the only way I would get into his room. Blood splattered like crackling sparks on his door and if I listened, I could hear him slowly get up from his bed.

I could picture the confused look on his face. Neither I nor Father ever knocked. It was Mother who had always knocked, caring about our privacy. "It's Natalia," I said, my voice cracking and my tongue throbbing.

The door slowly cracked open, and I threw myself at Brother. He stumbled back with my weight that I suddenly tossed on him. We tumbled on the bed, and I heard myself let out a laugh – nervous yet natural at the same time.

"Brother, Ivan," I said, shaking seriously for the first time since I had plunged the knife into Father's wielding flesh. "You won't guess what I did."

He pushed me up to sit beside him and took a really good look at my face. There was no disgust, but he was obviously a little freaked out. "I don't think I want to know, my bloody little sunflower. We'd better get you cleaned up before Father sees."

I brought my finger up to his snow-burned check. The blood on my finger dripped down his face. Giggling, happy and free for really the first time in my life. "Father will never know. The dead can't tell or see or trap or hurt."

This snapped Ivan's head up. He gripped my head between his hands and looked at me with his purple eyes that reminded me of Mother's and Katie's. Just like every time I saw them, tears started to leak slowly from my eyes.

They didn't pour as freely, but my cheeks were never really dry. I wrapped my arms around him as I tasted blood and tears – a taste that had become too familiar.

"Let's just get you cleaned up," he repeated, cradling me in his arms. He planted a kiss on my forehead and red blood stained his lips. "You need a nice warm bath, and you can sleep in my bed tonight."

"There was stuff in his room you need to see, Russia," I said, curling closer and smelling what I knew was safety. He didn't react to his other name, so I felt a little better knowing they hadn't been scheming against me. I don't know what I would do if he had been in league with...

"Was he really our Father?" I asked as he ignored my previous statement and concentrated on carrying me down the stairs. My blood boiled again as I thought about his comment, and I tightened my fists around the clothe in his shirt. "He called her whore."

Ivan halted for a second but continued walking. He didn't answer until he placed me in a kitchen chair – Father's with the cushion that I had always envied. Bent over the fire, he looked so much like Father that I had to look away for a second.

When the water stopped splashing into the kettle did he finally look at me. "He was our father, but we weren't by Mother's choice. I think Katie had always known that love between them was fake and forced. I think that is why she left."

It felt like Ivan was opening an old wound that had closed long ago. I winced away as he touched a burning towel to my face.

I remembered that picture of Ivan and Katie. Mother was laughing and smiling along with them; her happiness was captured in that strange painting. Even if we hadn't been wanted, we were still loved.

"Why did she never come back for us?" I asked him. For once, the water running down the face was from the towel that was slowly taking away my pain – one sweep and one layer at a time. "She promised me she would, but she never did. Did we remind her too much of Father?"

I didn't mention to him that when I saw Father's and my eyes in the mirror, they were the same bone-chilling blue. Maybe mine would lose the sparkle and I'd turn out just like him.

Ivan shook his head at my statement, snorting, "Neither of us are like Father. Looks don't define anyone. We'll move on. The two of us will be like a family."

"Me and you," I said, as Brother untied the ribbon that had once been Mother's. I had ruined her dress. "But we can't stay here."

Brother took my dress off my shoulders and removed all but my extreme undergarments. His fingers were red from the scalding water, but I could feel life pulsing through them. They weren't the dead digits that Father had. And they were soft as he washed the blood, sweat, and tears of my torn and bruised skin.

He stopped as he reached my arms, seeing the extent of my scars for the first time. His fingers traced down them, sending shivers that weren't caused by my repulsion. "What do you do to yourself?"

"It takes away the pain," I told him, suddenly ashamed of what I had done. The look on Ivan's face was more broken then when I had told him I had killed Father. It was the confirmation I needed that I meant more to him. I whispered my words, "It brings a new feeling to go with my lose."

"Forget them, Natty," he told me, wiping away the tears I hadn't known had formed. "Some one you're age shouldn't cry themselves to bed every night. You don't know how it breaks my heart when I hear you. I want to rush into your room and hold you until you forget all your pain. When I go to town every day, you are the only reason I come back to this hell hole."

When he finished, he grabbed my cheeks and ran his fingers in the bags under my eyes. He slowly rested his forehead against mine. Both our heartbeats settled down and the nervous anxiety that had bubbled under my surface dulled. Quickly, almost afraid, he brushed his lips against mine.

His lips were warm, and they removed the vile taste of Father from me, replacing it with something far more wonderful. I didn't care if he was my brother because we had a bond that was deeper than blood.

When he pulled away, a real smile lite up his face, and I smiled and laughed and kissed him again. My blood boiled and I could feel the sunlight Mother had written about rise to the surface.

It was only when his hands moved to my bare hips that I flinched away. For a second, all I could see was silver hair and Father's grabby fingers. "Sorry," I said, flashing a smile that reached all the way to my eyes, "It's just that." My voice cracked from emotion, and I couldn't speak.

"Tell me whenever you can," he told me, moving away to pick up a dry towel. Goosebumps arose where he ran it over my skin. "No pressure, little sunflower."

He dried my skin until there was no part of me covered in water or blood. We didn't speak, but our eyes never separated; there was no need for words.

My white under-dress was in acceptable shape, but Mother's beautiful gown was ruined. The blue was spotted with maroon patches that just removed any connection it had to her. The white on the bow was a brilliant red – soaked in the life-blood of Father.

"It's ruined," I whispered to him, telling myself I wouldn't cry again. "It was Mother's dress that I found in her trunk, and I ruined it. Now I have nothing of hers."

"Sleep," he told me, sweeping me back in his arms. " You just need a good nights sleep. I'll be right next to you the whole night. Nothing will hurt you. I promise."

Being swept up in his arms, I felt just like I had when Mother carried me to bed for the last time. A little smile lite up my face.

I still had all my memories of her. That was something that could never be ruined and never forgotten because God knows, I've tried. It wasn't her dress, but I still had her inside of me.

I could see in Ivan's eyes that he wanted to ask about my sudden smile, but there was a small part of him that looked a little scared. Shaking my head, I threw that thought from my head because Ivan loved me.

He plopped me in his bed, removing his shirt and pants before joining me. I put my head on his chest as he pulled the covers up around us.

"Sleep peacefully," he told me, brushing my silver hair out of my face. He kissed me on the nose before turned away from me to sleep.

"Peace for you too," I whispered, snuggled against his back. Our nightly good-bye warmed me up, and I felt like this place was a home once again.

When I closed my eyes, it was his gorgeous face that I saw in my dream.

---

It was the most beautiful weather I had ever seen. The breeze that blew through my hair didn't cut my skin like ice- it wrapped around me like a warm blanket. There were no clouds to obscure the sun and block the heat that radiated from it.

The field I stood in was covered completely in sunflowers that ranged from barely at my ankle to towering over my head. In the distance, there was a tree covered with yellow blossoms.

Everything was bright and cheerful. There were no blacks or grays to dull the picture of pure happiness. Even the centers of the sunflowers seemed to shine with light.

Running to the blooming tree, the wind whipped my hair in a column behind me. A white gown wrapped around my body like the nightgown I used to wear when I had been younger. It was fresh and crisp and smelled like the lemon perfume Mother used to wear.

This world seemed like magic for tears didn't rush to my eyes at the thought of Mother. Instead, I felt like I was free to think of her.

I could see Ivan waiting under the tree, twirling beautiful sunflowers in his hand. He was slowly peeling off petals that caught in the wind and danced around his head like feathers. His eyes sparkled with joy and freedom.

He looked up to see me sprinting towards him, and he opened his arms towards me. I fell into them, and he picked me up, swinging me around.

We were laughing and giggling and kissing, and I had never been filled so much with happiness. The world had gained a golden quality and even the sun seemed to be smiling at the two of us.

Suddenly, Ivan dropped me to the ground. Instead of hitting the lush grass and flowers, my back scrapped along cold ice. Chains of icicles wrapped around my wrists and secured my ankles to the ground.

I stared in horror as Ivan's face morphed into an exact replica of Father's. The loving purple eyes turned into heartless blue orbs.

"You didn't know, Belarus," the face sneered. I struggled on the ground as the eyes shifted between Ivan's and Father's. "You stupid, ignorant whore."

His fist, Ivan's fist, moved to punch my jaw.

---

I bolted up in bed, jerking out of Ivan's arm that must have wrapped around me as I slept. I was moist with sweat and my breath was coming in pants and wheezes.

Afraid of what I would see, I turned to Ivan who still slept peacefully beside me. I could tell from the sweet smile that graced his face that it was him, not a reincarnation of Father.

Ivan would never turn into Father. My eyes had just seen too much lately, and my brain was confusing the images. Ivan was my protector and my brother and my lover. We had gone through too much together for him to change.

He didn't wake as I ran a finger along his jawline and across his lips. His arms were unblemished with the scars like mine were. How had he dealt with the pain that threatened to eat me everyday?

Was it the town that he claimed to visit everyday to get the food that I was forced to make into diner? Did he see something there that gave him hope?

Could there be someone else in his life? No, it didn't really matter if there was someone else because I knew without doubt that I was more important.

Because whatever gave him hope, he always returned to me. He loved me and cared for me. He was gentle, and I smiled as I remembered his smooth fingers washing away the blood. All the blood.

I put my head on his chest and listened to his heart, a heart that would be mine until it stopped. The beating soothed me until my dream was just a faint memory.

---

The sun had already risen high in the sky by the time my eyes opened to the world a second time. It didn't seem right to be here; it didn't feel safe.

I reached out to feel the bed beside me - empty. Ivan had already gotten up, and he hadn't woken me. I let out a sigh at how much he cared for me, he probably thought I needed the sleep. He probably didn't expect me to be unnerved by the feeling this house had.

Normally by this time, I had already packed Ivan's meal, stroked the fire to life, cleaned last night's dishes, refreshed the candles in all the rooms, boiled water for tea and baths, and started to make lunch. Relaxation had been a foreign concept these last years – months- days- whatever unbearable time Mother had been gone.

When I rose from the bed and swung my legs over the side, what I saw took my breath away. Mother's dress lay across the top of his nightstand. I could smell the scent of soap rising from the blue cloth.

Picking it up, I held it close to myself. There seemed to only one stain that Ivan couldn't remove – a splat of dried blood just below the waist line. Right now, I didn't care -my dress was repaired.

It slipped on me like a second skin. The blue ribbon tied loosely around my neck and hung just in the middle of my chest.

When I picked up the stripped ribbon, I noticed Ivan had dug up a white lace apron from somewhere in the house. When wrapped around my waist, it cleverly hide the blood and my actions with it. "Oh Ivan," I breathed, tying my last clothing article too me, swearing I would never take it off.

Giving my hair a quick run through, the silver coloring no longer bothered me. It wasn't just Father's hair, it was Ivan's. The part I had shredded off felt uneven and ragged, but it was a reminder.

I would never forget my past as long as that crooked hair was there. It would mark me as someone who wasn't just a female version on her Father. It made me someone different, and it made me proud.

Opening Ivan's bedroom door, I saw the blood that I had dripped down the hall. A stranger sense of pride filled me as I surveyed the damage I had done.

In that one moment, I had possessed the power between life and death. I held my own fate in my hands and controlled not only my path but his. It was a feeling that Mother or Katie never would have understood.

Maybe that is why they left me behind. They knew I had to find my power here in this 'hell hole' as Ivan said. A smile lite up my face as I made myself believe I had been left here to discover that I had strength no one else in my family did.

I bent down to pick up my knife, hidden in the dark corner at the end of the hallway. The blood peeled away under my fingernails and fell to the ground like the flower petals of death. They crunched under my bare soles.

The knife went into my striped ribbon, and I felt a little stronger. When Ivan wasn't there – though he always would be there – I could stand up for myself. Maybe if I got some more, no one would ever hurt me.

Later I would search the house for some, but I could feel Ivan in Father's room. Would he understand the collection any more than I had? Did it have secrets that would make everything right again?

"Ivan," I breathed, stepping into the room. "Do you understand the..." My voice trailed off as I found him looking not at the walls but Father laying dead on the floor.

The cold had prevented maggots and other pesky insects from eating the flesh from his body. His skin was blue and his hands were frozen around his blood caked throat. There was a pool of blood around him and the odor coated everything in the room. The underlying scent of death wormed its way into my stomach, and I could smell Ivan's vomit from the trash in the corner.

"You did this," he asked disbelief in his tone. I could see his eyes taking in all the holes in his abdomen and his broken teeth. "How could you? I didn't like him, but he was our father."

Rage boiled, and I wanted to knock some sense into him. "You didn't know him like I did!" I shouted at him, running into his arms. "You were always gone. You didn't know him like I did. He wasn't my father."

I kicked the body on the ground, loving the sickening sound it made. It rolled over and his back was purple with stagnant blood. Stomping on his head, I heard his teeth crunch and break. I would've kept at it had Ivan not pulled me away.

"Put me down!" I screamed until I wore myself out. Ivan seemed to have been waiting for that because he placed me on Winter's desk. Kissing me on my forehead, he dragged the body to the corner.

He hopped up next to me and put an arm around my shoulder. When I turned to kiss him on the lips, he turned away so all I felt was his rough check. My eyes brimmed with disappointment, but he was obviously just shocked by seeing a dead body for the first time.

"What is all this stuff?" he wondered, not talking to anyone but voicing his confusion. "It was like he was keeping track of us. Like a caring father."

"More like a creeper," I whispered, still bitter from not getting my kiss. The pictures of a young Ivan and Katie made me wonder more about life before I had been born. Had they truly been a real family?

"Look at this entry," he said, shoving a journal in my face. I could see Winter's exact and careful handwriting.

December 30,

Ivan is only seven years old today, but he already looks fourteen. It appears the fact that he is a country has sped up his growth process. Summer either knows this or has lost track of the seasons and his growth does not seem unnatural.

I suspect he will be finished growing by the time he is ten. That is about the age Katie stopped at. She has looked around twenty for the past couple years. I think she has noticed but thought nothing of it for we have greatly limited her access to the outside world.

Natalia seems yet to have hit the point where her growth speeds up. Her body is still that of a four year old. There is a possibly that she isn't a country and that I have sired a regular human. I will have to pay careful attention to her.

If she turns out to be human, there is a chance that my beliefs about the information for countries being passed down in the blood. She could ruin all my plans. Hopefully, she grows soon.

I could feel Ivan's eyes on me, and I couldn't help but feel like they were Winter's eyes examining me for a reaction.

"It makes us seem like we are more than human," he said. He clapped his hands in a childish glee that I had to laugh at. "It sounds like I've have stopped aging, and you will stop soon enough."

"But it sounds like there is a catch," I mumbled, going all along with his plan that I had turned out being a 'country'. It would be easier to get another kiss out of him if he thought we were equal. "What's a country?

"Here, look at this," he told me, his childish happiness vanishing into more grown-up emotion. There was a confused look on his face as he dropped a dictionary on my lap. His finger was pointed to a passage in the middle of the page.

Coun-try [kuhn-tree] Noun. Plural -tries. Adjective.

NOUN

1. a state or nation

2. the territory of a nation

3. the people of a district, state, or nation

4. the land of one's birth or citizenship

ADJECTIVE

1. of, from, or characteristic of a country

2. or, from, or pertaining to a specific country

"This doesn't make any sense," I told him, running my fingers through my hair. "We are people not land." Taking my fingers, I trailed them along the words. The paper felt sticky. It brought back memories of long ago. Memories that Ivan had probably forgotten, but things that I still remembered. "Wait, do you remember when Mother taught us to write secret messages."

"You think Mom wrote something there to help us. I don't think she ever really left us," he cried out. I gasped as he grabbed me on the shoulders and looked me right in the eye. "She left me a coat for me to wear to town. I can tell her stitches from anywhere."

"We can figure this out," I told him, leaning up to give him a quick kiss. This time, he deliberately got up and began searching Winter's drawers. I clenched my fingers in my dress and felt my nails dig into my palm.

Ivan was avoiding my kisses. Did he think he was taking advantage of me? Was he repulsed by the idea that we are siblings? I'd just give him more time to think of us in a relationship.

He looked worried as he shuffled among the drawers. I could see Ivan pull out vials of all sorts of liquids, throwing all of them back with a scrunched up brow. It was a frosty white one that he finally decided on.

"This is the correct one, da," he asked, waiting a short time for my nod. Not taking any care, he attempted to dump the entire vial on the page.

"No," I shouted, reaching to grab his hand. The liquid splattered all over his shirt and scorched his neck. The faint smell of burning flesh spread across the room. "You would've have ruined the message pouring all of that on the paper."

All he could do in response was moan in pain and claw at his neck. The liquid that was eating away at the covering to the secret message was now eating away at his snow white neck. The flesh where the solution had hit was starting to bubble a revolting yellow-green goo.

Going into Winter's drawers, I poured vial after vial onto Ivan's neck. The ones that caused more inflammation went into my sash. It was almost fun to imagine that he was suffering because he had refused my kisses.

Almost being the key word. His pain still felt like my own – like that slap all those sunrises ago. I knew I had the power to help him. A power that would convince him I was the one for him.

Ivan was collapsed on the desk in pain before I poured the correct liquid on his wound. The bubbling stopped, but the closing scar was too warm to my touch and left a giant gray mark of dead skin.

Grabbing his discarded beige scarf off the table, I wrapped it around Ivan's neck. Prying the dictionary out from under him, I read the blurred message.

Dear Katie, Ivan, and Natty,

One day, I know you will be reading this. You guys deserve to know that the three of you are different than people you might meet in the local town. You grow up quickly and stop between the age of twenty-five to fifteen.

The three of you represent countries. Katie, Ukraine. Ivan, Russia. Natalia, Belarus. In some amount of time, you will need to claim these lands as your own.

When the times arrives, you will need to know.

Love you forever,

Mother Summer

---

Everything of value I packed into a a small bag. There wasn't much that I wanted to keep from this house. Bad memories seemed to cling to everything I owned.

All the knifes I found were stuffed in holsters that I had made from leather pot holders I had discovered in kitchen cupboards. Vials of Winter's liquids were in pouches I had sewn into my waist ribbon.

I felt a little safer being equipped. I had never been out of this house before, and my heart wouldn't stop beating with nerves. I didn't know what was out there. All I had ever seen was white snow that coated everything.

But, it a relief to get away from all the memories. No longer would everything remind me of Mother or Katie or being completely alone. From now on, I would make everything I saw a positive memory.

I joined Ivan at the door. He threw a warm furry coat he found in the cellar over my shoulders and helped me button it up. His fingers were nimble and warm, and I couldn't help but run my hands over his cheeks as he reached my stomach.

"You really want to leave?" he asked, slowly peeling my hands from his face. His rejection of me had me feeling more alone. He had yet to place me in my own room, but his body never felt as warm as it had that first night.

"Of course," I said, trying to bluff my way around my anxiety. "The body is going to start to smell soon enough."

He looked nervous at the mention of the body but strapped snowshoes to my feet like nothing had happened. "You are going to need to knock off the snow every few steps," he told me. His voice was detached and it sounded like I meant nothing to him. "You'll get used to the rhythm soon enough."

"You'll help me," I purred, looking down at him between my legs. Hopefully, he could see my smooth legs and loved them.

"Natalia," he said, putting on his own shoes. He refused to look me in the eyes as he choked out his words, "I think that kiss was a mistake. You just looked so weak, and it looked like you needed someone to be gentle with you."

His eyes met mine as he picked his head head up. I couldn't see any lies in those purple eyes; only the painful truth and regret lived there.

I shook my head and looked away, tears blurring my vision. "You don't actually mean that. Ivan, if I don't have you, I should have just let Father take me. Do you want more blood to run down my arms and wrists?"

Ivan looked away as I spoke, and I could feel his emotion churning. It burned my throat to say that though it was totally true. When he stood on his feet, I had to look away because though I carried knives, I not longer felt strong and in-control.

"Just one more," he said, holding my face in his hands, "I hate to see my sister cry when I have the power to make her stop."

He kissed me again. But unlike last time, he forced his lips onto mine and the pressure made me gasp in surprise. His hands ran through my hair, and I felt like I was flying. His strong tongue rolled against my lips, and I could taste his very soul.

When he pulled away, I was the only one panting hard. I could feel my cheeks burning beneath his touch; fire and passion was coursing though them. "I know someone in the town who will kiss you like that."

---

The walk to the town was quiet for I was too busy nursing my broken heart to talk to Ivan. He only saw me as his sister though I would always, always love him as more.

Didn't he see that he was the one I wanted; not just someone who could kiss me. Sure I loved his kisses, but he was the one who was always there for me. He never ran away because he loved me, even though he thought he stayed just to protect me.

Why did he think the scar on his neck healed so nicely? It wasn't magic. I might have had alternative motives, but I still gave it to him. There was no one in this whole world who could have possibly cared for him more.

To top it all off, I was positive I was the only girl he knew. Unless he had something for men, I was his only option. Not that there would be a competition to decide, I was the obviously the best of all possible choices for Ivan.

"He's fuckin' mine," I mumbled under my breath, looking at Ivan through slitted eyes. The wind blew my whispers away from him – for better or for worse.

I was glad he hadn't heard my comment because I knew he already slightly feared me for my casual attitude about killing Winter. Secretly though, I wished he could hear all my thoughts and know that he was mine.

Still gazing at him, I knocked the snow off my shoes and fingered the vials in my waistband. He didn't know I had them hidden there – the vials that Winter had somehow concocted. Maybe one of them could force him to love me. I didn't really know what they did beside burn flesh, but there was always time to experiment after we were married.

And we would be married. We'd get to town, and I'd convinced Ivan he loved only me. After we professed our love, he'd get down on one knee and ask me to share his life with him. That was how Mother's story always went.

But my story wouldn't end up like hers because Ivan would truly love me. I'd be sure of that.

Trying to recall Mother's stories and wishing – not for the first time- that she was still with me, I could see that Ivan was slowly being unnerved by my silence. Every time I inched closer to him, he'd take two steps away. My stares of his perfect body seemed to make him nervous and shaky.

I don't know why; he was gorgeous. His silver hair reflected the light from the sun and his cheeks were rosy from the effort of staying above the snow carrying my light bag and his heavier one.

His smile glittered like ice carvings as he spied something on the horizon.

"There's the town," he said to me, his voice gleeful. He was obviously happy that there would be a place for us to get married. "Natty, it's right up ahead. Look."

I don't know what he saw, but it look like a bunch of wood piled up in huge stacks to me. But somewhere out there, the village would be.

The thought of meeting new people not related to me scared me more than Winter. There would be too many people there to kill them all if they hurt me. Ivan couldn't possibly protect me from so many. I clung closer to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and not letting him go.

Shrugging me off, Ivan grabbed my wrist and started to pull me forward. "Come on, there are some people I want you to meet."

"Friends?" I inquired, suddenly suspicious about whomever Ivan knew. Where they the reason why he wasn't holding onto my hand? "Close friends?"

I could see Ivan's already red face get a little brighter, and I gently pushed my nails into his arm. He was embarrassed by something, but why would he be embarrassed by his friends. I looked up into his face, implying that he tell me.

His eyes darted back and forth from my eyes to the background of snow. He shifted a bit on his snowshoes, and I already knew he was going to lie to me.

"I guess we are kind of close," he said, pulling me along in an failed attempt to distract me. "They help me buy produce for as cheap as a price I can get. Sometimes I go ice fishing with them on the frozen lake."

They did more than that, I knew that. Ice fishing was no reason to get all red for. Maybe it had another, more sinister meaning. Maybe he just didn't want me to know that he wasn't good at haggling and arguing ; but I already knew that.

But why would Ivan lie to me. Even if he didn't love me yet, I was his sister. I deserved the truth. I scratched my nails along his arm, smiling as I saw white marks peel away to beading red blood; that would teach him that you shouldn't lie to your sister and future wife.

"Don't be afraid," he told me, mistaking my rage for pure nervousness. "I'm sure you'll love them. I've told them all about you, and they will be thrilled we've finally escaped."

"Sure, darling," I said, allowing Ivan to drag me to the outskirts of the town. The way he shivered when I called him darling made me grin.

The town looked a lot sturdier than it had from a distance. A huge brown wall that consisted of the wood I thought I saw earlier surrounded the perimeter of the village. With the barrier, there was no way to tell how many people resided in there.

Was it a small hamlet? Maybe a quaint village or a tiny town? But there was always the possibility that is was a huge neighborhood with lots of pretty girls. My stomach churned with nerves and a little fear.

It looked like Ivan was heading towards a huge gate tower that seemed to dwarf everything else. Grabbing onto his hand, we'd enter the city as a pair.

"Stop," called the deepest voice I had ever heard. "Who are you, and why do you bring Lady Winter with you?"

The voice seemed to come from the sky, and I shrunk down for an instant, fearful a blast of lightning would shot from the sky. Looking around, I saw a face peer out the side of the tower.

"Lady Winter," he shouted again for we obviously hadn't answered fast enough. "Be gone, Lady Winter," he cried, raising something to the window.

I froze up at being called Lady Winter for now there was no doubt it was me whom he was calling that awful name. I was nothing like my Father – nothing like him.

I gripped Ivan's hand even harder and reached for a knife with my other. He would regret connecting me to that monster. "Say something," I whispered to Ivan because if that man called me that name again, I wouldn't be able to stand it.

"Jakob," cried Ivan, waving his hand back and forth. "Put that nasty crossbow away. It's just me and my little sister, Natalia. General Winter is dead. There is no need to fear anymore."

I snarled the tiniest bit at being refereed to as his little sister, not lover, not companion, not even a plain sister, but a little sister. There would be time to change that later.

I could see the surprise written on the guards face and pride for myself swelled up in my heart. Winter must have struck fear upon this town, and I had been the one to kill him. I was more than deserving of Brother.

"General Winter is dead?" he shouted back after a long pause. "Are you positive? Don't make me lie to all the townsfolk."

Ivan grinned at me, and my heart thawed the tiniest bit. "I don't know many men that can live with various stab wounds in their chest and a broken spine. General Winter might not have been human, but he wasn't invincible."

Ivan's tone surprised me, but I wasn't going to question him about it. He had seemed so disgusted by it when it was just the two of us but now he was embracing it.

"Come on in, you two," Jakob cried, opening the gate. "I've totally got to hear this story, and I'm sure Yian is missing you too, Ivan."

When that name was mention, Ivan's face began to glow. It was the happiness I had seen on my own during my dream in the field of sunflowers. It made me suspicious.

"Yian?" I asked Ivan. The name sounded so exotic that I was sure if it was a girl's or guy's name or even a person's name.

"A friend, Natalia," he answer too happily.

---

By the time the gates had completely opened and anxiety over the identity of Yian was eating my heart apart, there was already a large crowd of people gathered. I had never seen so many people in all my life.

Many had silver hair like Brother and I, but many more didn't. Some people's were as black as the night and others brown like wooden planks. A couple even had Mother's blonde hair, but none were Mother or Katie- not that I were expecting them to be so close.

And most were standing barefoot on something green. It slowly melted the snow as it spread outside the gate. I heard people mumbling and pointing at this phenomenon.

Kicking off my snow shoes and my booties, I touched my toes nervously to the green stuff. It was cold and damp to the touch, but not entirely unpleasant. Feeling like I was safe, I planted both my feet solidly on the surface.

Ivan watched my whole discovery with a smile on his face – a smile that was one of an elder watching the younger learn something new, not of a man to his lover. Darkly, I remembered that he had been here many times before.

"Grass," laughed a young man with hair like wood. He reached down to pluck a few of the green stuff... grass. "So Ivan, how you manage to get rid of the cold General? Never heard Jakob so excited in my whole life."

I laughed as he sprinkled it on my head. Maybe this funny man was the Yian Jakob had been talking about earlier. Maybe Ivan was still mine and I had been worrying over nothing.

"It was little Natty here, the vicious little sunflower," he patted me on the shoulder, and I leaned into his side. "She won't tell me, but he pushed her a little too far. Right, Natty, da?"

"Yeah," I said, glaring at Ivan as he pushed me off him and onto the new boy. My face was red from being rejected in front of all these people I had never seen before.

"So you are a warrior queen," said the boy, kneeling down to kiss my hand. My blush grew even brighter, and I didn't know how to react to his actions.

My brother was supposed to be the one getting down on his knees for me, but I didn't protest the man's actions. I didn't know what the kneeling and hand kissing meant. When he let go of my hand though, I quickly pulled it back to my side.

"We'll celebrate tonight," shouted Jakob, pushing his way to the three of us. "We'll have a feast in the market square because it looks like Spring will arrive at last."

This set off the townspeople muttering. All their whispers together were louder than I thought whispers could be. No one's voice was clear, and I was scared they were talking about me.

I saw small children that reminded me of myself running after their mothers. Tears started to run down my ruts in my cheeks that were too used to the salty water. That could have been me if things had been different.

The crowd was parting slowly, and I could her someone shouting from amongst the village people. The voice was higher pitched than mine and very feminine.

My heart stopped as a girl a little older than me ran up to Ivan. Her hair was black like a crow's feathers and her eyes were a deep brown just like her skin. The shape of her eyes didn't match any of the other people's I had seen. I had yet to see many girls, but I could tell she was beautiful.

"Ivan," she shouted, running into his arms. He didn't untangle himself, but wrapped her even closer to him. "I feared the worse when you didn't return this last week. I thought," she trailed off, crying in his arms.

The brown haired man touched my shoulders and pulled me away from the two of them. I refused to turn away and sent glares lethal enough to kill into the girl's back.

It was only when they stared into each others eyes and began to kiss did I allow the man to take me away. I couldn't bare to look anymore.

Ivan had lied to me deeper than I ever couldn't have imagined. He told me 'close friends' not lovers. He had even kissed me knowing that we could never be. He had kissed me twice, raising me up each time only to throw me back down to earth.

Oh, he'd pay. I'd break his heart in anyway I could. Then he would come crawling back to me, and it would just be the two of us again. We'd be married and happy.

"That's Yian," the man told me as he walked me down the streets. "She and Ivan have been together for quite awhile now. Ever since he began to come to this town."

I looked away for I didn't want him to see the dry tears in my eyes. Not only did he have a lover, but they had been together since Mother died. Is that why his tears didn't run as plentifully as mine had? Was it because he had someone else to hold him besides me?

Instead of having to explain why my eyes were getting puffy, I poked my toes into the brown squishy stuff that had overrun the grass. It was a lot colder than the grass and really stuck to my feet. "What is this funny stuff," I asked scooping some onto his own feet.

He laughed again, a laugh that was slightly contagious. He stopped and tried to wipe it off with his other foot, but he only succeeded in spreading it further up his leg. "This darn mud, Natty," he told me. "Good thing Felkis decided to spend sometime with the others for this generation because this mud would drive him crazy."

Here was another name, Felkis. "Who is Felkis?" I asked, ignoring his comment about 'this generation'. The 'mud' splattered along my calves when I stepped particularly hard.

"Just my friend," he answered, swinging an arm around my shoulder and waving to a village elder carrying a basket of produce. "He can be a bit of a neat freak and loves his clothes. Like totally," he said, using a really high pitched voice I guess must have been his imitation.

I laughed again and almost fell in the mud as he pulled me to a stop. "What the hell was that?" I whispered to him, my heart beating wildly at the thought of having gotten mud all over Mother's dress.

"This is where I live," he said, bringing me through the door. It seemed weird that there was another person living directly to the right and directly to the left.

"What's your name?" I asked the man who brought me into his house. I looked at the carving in his furniture and the stone work around the fireplace instead of in his green eyes- they were green like the grass.

"Lith... Toris," he answered, stuttering with what I saw to be the easiest question. He might do well as a test subject with some of these potions for he was easy to get along with. "Toris Laurinaitis. I've lived in this town for more years that you've probably been alive."

His answer and stuttering about his name made me very curious. Maybe I really didn't understand people, but he didn't look old at all.

"You look about my age," I told him, sitting on the couch that felt like it was made of clouds. "Why did you say you've lived here longer than I've been alive? I'm only around ten years old."

Toris nearly dropped the tea he was pouring when I said I was ten years old. Was there something wrong with my age? I couldn't go crawling back to Russia because I needed him to miss me.

"Are you alright, Mr. Toris," I asked, "I can help you with the tea." In fact, I felt a little weird not helping, like I had no control over the course of events. In his house and eating his food, he held all the power. I did have knives so I could reclaim that power if I wanted to but still.

"What's your real name," he asked, turning around to face me. His face was serious, but it wasn't deadly like Winters or demanding like Ivan's at certain times. "I know you've got another one."

He slowly walked towards me, and I began to shift on the couch. He walked like a cat stalking a rat in the dark cellar. When he got to close, I slipped a knife out of its sheath and leaped on him.

Pressing the cold steel against his neck, I could feel his shaking – I was back in control. "Tell me yours first and than maybe we can talk."

My eyes were flaming and for some odd reason, I could feel where his legs were touching mine. These feelings just fueled my rage, and I pressed the knife down even harder. Blood pooled on the tip, and I saw Toris' Adam Apple bob up and down.

"I'm Lithuania," he said, looking at me directly with his soft green eyes. Suddenly, he leaned forward and kissed me right on the lips.

His touch was so soft, I never would have believed we had actually kissed except Toris started to stutter out apologizes. The little man was working right into my plan. If I got Russia jealous, he'd realize it was me he had loved.

I slid my knife back under my dress and put my hands on either side of his head. Kissing him with everything I had, I ran my tongue over his soft lips. I have to admit, I gasped as he opened his mouth and wrapped his tongue around my tongue.

Moving my hands from the wall, I wrapped them in his hair and pushed myself closer to him. His hands were as gentle as Ivan's, but they seemed to burn along my sides.

Out of breath, I eased myself from his lips to get some air. I could see he was just as tired, looking at me sleepily. He gave me a quick peck on the lips and moved back towards the tea.

"You never told me your name," he brought up, handing me one tea cup and maneuvering me to the couch. "That was a great kiss, but it takes a lot more to distract me."

Sitting down next to him, I couldn't deny that he was rather cute. But he hadn't cared for me like Ivan had, so I could never be with him. "Belarus," I spat out, drinking my tea to refuse having to elaborate.

"That's such a pretty name. Belarus." It rolled off his tongue like snow off a mountain. "How 'bout you tell me how you came to slay the nasty General Winter. It got anything to do with the knives you have here and here?"

With each "here", he patted the outside of each thigh, outlining where I hid my knives. A blush reached up my face when I realized even Ivan hadn't touched me there. "You're very observant," was all I could say.

He put his arm around my shoulders, and I didn't push it off because it felt like Ivan was the one holding me. "It's is perfectly alright if you don't want to talk about it. I won't pressure you."

His last words made me put my head against his shoulder. Those were the exact words Ivan had said to me the night I had killed Winter. I didn't want anyone else to say them to me - just Ivan.

I only wanted his mouth to speak the words that unwound my heart. The little accent on his words – I would be the only one to hear that. No one else, especially not Yian. She had to go.

So I drank my tea casually and smiled at everything Toris said to me. "So," I said, interrupting a story about a prank Ravis pulled on Eduard. Who either of the two were, I neither knew nor cared. "Where does Yian live?"

"Oh, Yian," said Toris, "she and Ivan are staying just down the street in the yellow house. Are you going to stay the night with them?"

I heard the slightly dejected tone at the end of his voice and decided to play him. "I think Ivan and Yian could use some time alone. I was kind of hoping I could stay with here with you."

I felt like I was stabbing him in the back the way his face lite up with joy, but that wasn't anything new to me. He was just a stepping stone – a cute stepping stone, but that didn't change the plans.

"Help yourself to anything in the kitchen but not too much; there is a feast tonight in your honor. I'll go prepare the guest room," he said, untangling himself from me and heading up the stairs.

At least I found someone honorable to trick – or maybe that was worse. He didn't try to take advantage of me like Winter or maybe some other men would.

Sliding up from the couch, I made my way towards the kitchen. It had the same rudimentary features as my one at the cabin, so I assumed one of the drawers housed utensils.

The first I opened up had towels stripped with green, yellow, and red: three colors that really shouldn't go together. The second had pot holders and other random crap Toris probably needed to cook. The third had the knives, and boy, did Toris have knives.

He had really small ones that looked like they were made to slice pieces of delicate fruits and candy. This easily slid right next to the big ones on my thighs. I bet they could cut single layers of skin and slice Yian's tiny veins. Yes, they would do.

There was a huge cleaver too. It wouldn't fit in my home-made sheaves, but I'd have to remember to take it later; it would come in handy some time in the future.

Two men suddenly walked through the door, the younger one was bent over in laughter. He patted the older one on the back who seemed unresponsive – his green eyes focused on me.

"Who are you," demanded the older one with ashy gray hair. He slowly walked over to me and dropped a bucketful of ice-fish onto the counter. His tone was calm, but like Father's, it held an air of power and danger.

I backed away from him and slowly started to reach up the back of my dress for my knives. Neither man looked dangerous, but looks can be deceiving. If I hit the back of their heads, I would only stun them momentarily – enough to warn Toris about the intruders.

"She's my guest," called Toris, walking down from upstairs and holding a couple sheets that looked like they needed to be washed. "Her name is Natalia Belarus. And don't worry, she's one of us."

More countries. Did everyone in this town represent a country? Toris must have seen the confusion on my face for he put his hand on my shoulder. The way he would casually touched me reached all the way down to my heart for it was just like Ivan.

"We tend to clump together in groups. I'm Lithuania. Eduard there is Estonia, and Ravis is Latvia. Yian is China," he stated like reciting facts. "In a couple years, we'll move on to another town. Hopefully, you and Ivan will join us."

"I guess that makes sense," I shrugged, trying not to choke on the fact that Yian was a country. Could countries die? "How many of us are there?"

"There is a lot of Europeans out west," said Eduard, chuckling quietly to himself. "The Germans like to move together, the Romantics and the English always seem to have a loose agreement, and the Balkans usually move in two bands depending on who is allied at the moment."

"What are we called?" I asked starting to scale the fish.

"The three us of are the Baltic's, Ivan and yourself plus an undiscovered country called Ukraine are the Slavs, and Yian got kicked out of the Asians for something she won't tell us," he explained. Taking the knife out of my hand, he gave me a kiss on the check. "You don't have to help make diner."

My checks flamed up when I saw Ravis give a small wink at Toris. My complexion settled when I saw Toris get just as bright beside me. I did need people to know that Toris was pining after me to make Ivan jealous, but it felt like I was doing something wrong.

In my embarrassment, I didn't give much thought to that fact that Katie had never shown up as Ukraine. Right now, I was too much in this village world.

"I like to feel useful," I told him, insisting I help with the meal, "let me make some chowder for the feast. I do make the best." I put my hands on my hips, shooing Toris away with a wild smile on my lips.

"Come on, Toris," laughed Ravis, "let the beautiful Warrior Queen make what she wants. It is in her honor, isn't it."

"Yeah, Lithuania," grinned Eduard, rubbing Ravis on the head to emit a shudder out of the boy. "She probably wants some time to think. It isn't every day you learn you represent a country and then learn there are more of you."

Toris gave me a kiss on the check. "I'll be upstairs," he whispered in my ear, "if you need anything."

Though I knew his words could double in meaning, I knew he wasn't even thinking of the naughtier option. He was too honorable to even mention let alone think something like that.

As he walked upstairs, I let the simple routine of cooking take me over and leave my mind to wander.

---

My stomach was full but my heart was ablaze with too many thoughts. The whole night, Toris had sat next to me, holding my hand and explaining all the different types of dishes that covered the lavish table. The amount that he appeared to care for me left me confused for I had never given him a reason to care for me.

Throughout the night, I found myself looking at both Ivan and Toris, wondering which I would choose. They were so different, the two men that I found myself loving.

Ivan was so pale like a sheet of ice. His arms were warm and protective, but they had never held me with love; they had only held me as comfort. But he had kissed me after he said he never would again. He said he could never deny me anything that made me smile, and he made me smile.

Toris was dark and had exotic looking hair and eyes. His arms were warm, and he had held me like he never wanted to let me go. Fire burned through me whenever I felt his arms. But I didn't really know him for he could have a cold heart hidden in his chest.

He was probably trying to take advantage of me. When I was younger, Mother had warned me about such people. She said they would pretend to love you just to get you in their bed. That they lied and would cheat on you.

But he hadn't seemed like that sort of person. When escorting me back to the house, he never tried to move beyond where I was comfortable. His hands never strayed to my waist or anywhere else on my body.

Toris might have been a good lover for me, but it all boiled down to the fact that I had loved Ivan first. My love for him was more pure and precious.

It was Ivan that was for me. He had obviously forgotten that I was his true love. We had both been misguided – he just needed more correction than I did. Correction that I was all to willing to give.

---

The guest room Toris had given me was no bigger than the one I had always slept in. There were sunflowers sitting in a vase on the nightstand. The bed had new covers that were decorated with strange designs. Too bad I wouldn't be sleeping in them tonight.

All the candles in the town had burned out, and the early morning fishers wouldn't be waking for several hours. Ravis, who often took up guard positions, was more than willing to tell me everything he knew about the working and schedules of the townsfolk.

Pulling the flowers from the vase, I tucked them into my ribbon. My knives were all in place, and my heart had stopped beating like a manic ages ago. I was ready for what needed to be down in order to claim what was mine.

I opened the small glass window and slipped easily onto the roof of the living room. From there, I scampered onto the neighboring houses, making my way towards the house Toris had pointed out at the feast – the one Yian was staying in.

My feet pitter-pattered across the roofs. Some were made from wood and others weaved from long grass that grew on the edges of the vegetable fields. Quickly, I scampered up onto the yellow painted wood that made up the side of Yian's house.

The window had been left open, and I knew Ivan was inside. I knew all his quirky habits and loved them. I bet Yian was annoyed and frozen with the cold air whipping around. More reason for me to take her out of her pain.

Putting in one leg through the opening then vaulting over, I landed in their room with barely a sound. Looking up, I nearly vomited up all the food I had eaten.

Yian had raped and seduced Ivan. There was no other way they could both be in the same bed wearing no clothes; there was no other plausible explanation. I can't believe that bitch would sink so low.

Ivan needed me to protect him like he had protected me. He would have gotten Father if he had done this to me. Now, I'd have to get Yian.

Taking one of the knives I had stolen from Toris while cooking diner, I danced over to Yian's side of the bed. Not wanting a sound to be echoed by her, I slid my knife across her throat while clamping my hand over her mouth.

Her eyes flashed open briefly before closing forever. I wish I could have painted a picture of the look she gave me. It was the terrified look of someone found guilty of the worst crime. Ivan would see that look and come running for me and we'd hold each other forever.

Blood continued to flow out her throat in a thick river, and I dipped both my hands in it. It was warm to my touch and, bringing it to my mouth, it tasted salty yet deliciously sweet.

I scooped some more into my hands, licking up the tiniest bit more. Taking my red hands, I ran them across the bare walls. Streaks of maroon started to appear wherever I touched. Feeling gleeful, I drew a giant heart on the wall than scribbled all over it.

Leaping back to Yian, I soaked my hands once again, this time softly drawing them over Ivan. He must have been too tired from trying to resit her to wake up. He did shift gently to my touch, and I really wanted to wake him with a kiss, but it would ruin my wonderful plan.

Right over his heart, I signed my name in Yian's blood. Trailing down, I drew a sunflower on his belly button, the petals covering his navel completely. The petals drooped and looked like they were crying as the blood washed downwards.

Feeling accomplished, I wiped my hands on my white apron, grinning at the streaks it made.

Mother would be proud, taking my life into my own hands. And I had learned when to stay quiet – when you are murdering a rapist, it isn't a good time to speak.

Taking the tiny knife I had strapped beneath my big one, I traced it over Yian's face, running the blade smoothly along her jaw line. I cut along side her eyes, elongating the already unusual shape. Laughing quietly at the image she made, I cut off chunks of her hair, making her look like the Devil.

Moving down, I sliced pieces of her skin off, flinging them onto the walls. It was my artwork and Ivan would know I did it all for him. He'd know everything I had ever done was for him.

Grinning one last time, I carved the words "Marry Me?" on her chest. Right next to them, I placed the fresh sunflowers – a sign that I loved him and had protected him.

---

I was awoken by a girlish scream. Opening my eyes, I saw Toris standing in my doorway, eyes open wide and chin nearly on the floor. He seemed to be taking in the blood that was splattered all over me and his bed sheets.

"Natalia," he said, almost afraid to come closer. "What did you do?"

I wondered why he looked so confused. Was it not obvious to the entire town that Yian was abusing Ivan and something needed to be down about it? "I just took care of a small problem," I told him, getting up from the bed, "Yian will no longer bother Ivan."

"You – you- you killed her," he stuttered, backing away from the doorway. His eyes were shadowed in hurt and confusion. "You killed Yian."

"Of course, you idiot," I screamed, something in me snapping.,"Ivan loves me - not Yian; he just needed some help to see that."

Why was Toris such an oblivious fool? Why had I even thought I loved someone so clueless and naive? He really should have known I was Ivan's and Ivan was mine. Stupid fool.

Toris looked like he was trying to swallow something and I registered the look of someone trying to stop tears from flowing. "I thought you loved me. I though we had shared something that could last forever."

I leaped for him, grabbing his hand and squeezing with all my might. He tried to peel away, but my grip was too strong. "You were just there to make Ivan jealous, but you failed. You will never understand the love I have for him."

"No, Belarus," he said, breaking my heart more than I thought he had the power to, "you don't understand how much Ivan loved Yian."

His words stopped me for a second, and he slipped away from me. Still in the room but close enough to the door to bolt. He was a liar because Ivan did love me.

"I was the reason he got up in the morning," I shouted, breaking myself away from the mental bond that seemed to tie me to Toris and leaped out the window. "You stupid Baltic," I shouted at his tearful face looking out the window.

I followed the bloodstains I had left the night before. People stood below me, gawking at the site. I saw Jakob trying to usher people away. When I smiled at him, an old lady screamed, pointing at me and screeching.

I saw Ravis' little face appear besides a weapon Ivan had called a 'crossbow'. There seemed to be a dart knocked on the top, aimed at me. Jakob shouted an order, probably to shoot, but Ravis tumbled to the ground before his finger could reach the trigger.

Stupid Toris had knocked Ravis to the ground to stop him from shouting at me. My fake little lover boy had proven his worth several times over now.

I didn't hear what went on between the two house-mates for I leaped in Ivan's window and saw my work for the first time. But it wasn't as beautiful as I thought for it was marred by a hunched over, tearful Ivan.

"Ivan," I said, reaching for him with crimson hands. "She never really loved you like I did. She wasn't good enough for you."

The look on his eyes was the most heartbroken eyes I had ever seen, and his face was puffy from tears. "G-g-get away from me," he said, backing against the wall nervously, "get away, Little Sister."

"But Brother," I grinned, clapping my hands together, "Don't you want to marry me?"

---

If you've made it all the way to the bottom without skipping congradulations. If you skipped, go back up and read the story.

Since you just read an 18,000+ story, a little review won't take much time. I just want to know your thoughts and opinion about Belarus.

~Scar