"Huh." Lithuania murmured, surveying the room, deep in thought. "I could've sworn that I left it on my desk…" He mused, searching fervently around his small office for his prized possession. His Teutonic-era sword, sheathed in an onyx casing that preserved its luster and enveloped in gold to the hilt, was suddenly missing from his cramped workspace.
"Where could it have gone…no, no, no it can't be lost!" Lithuania cried, scattering countless documents from his unstable oak desk to the floor in a panic. It was a vital symbol on his Coat of Arms, without the sword, the knight is nothing! He'd originally brought it in to his workspace in a usually futile attempt to brighten up the gloomy office. Ever since he'd began work-more like forced into work—within the walls of the communist giant's headquarters, he felt confined to an abysmal corner of the large mansion, and depression squeezed in the small office space as well, making itself at home. Thinking it was something like those odd kitten motivator posters America suggested, Lithuania planned to mount his nation's pride, the Teutonic Knight's Sword, on the wall to take his mind off disturbing things in his miserable office.
Like the pale outlines of old blood spatter that his boss insisted were "Creative wallpaper designs" for example.
An earsplitting scream slowly roused the nervous man from his desperate search. Sprinting from behind his wobbly desk, Lithuania sent foreign relation records flurrying in his wake. Peeking from behind the door frame, he wasn't surprised in the least at what he saw. In fact, he should've expected what he saw at that moment. It would've saved him quite a bit of workspace cleaning and paperwork.
Tearing through the dimly lit hallway at blinding speed and shrieking his tiny lungs out, was none other than his Baltic neighbor Raivas, or as he was known to the world, Latvia. His voice cracked under strain, barely audible as his throat grew undoubtedly raw. And behind him at frightening speed, was the terribly intimidating Communist nightmare, Ivan, or as most nation's fear to call him, Russia.
Lithuania could clearly see why Latvia was raising such commotion; he was scared to death of Russia. He was his favorite torture subject after all, and moments like these were routine. Every day Latvia would carry on, pleading for help as Russia would toss him around like a bean bag, smiling the entire time. And Lithuania was expected to work under these conditions. But he knew better than to complain to Russia. That was…just a terrible idea entirely.
Today Russia chased Latvia recklessly, destroying the hallway in his wake. Even without decent lighting, Lithuania could see Russia carried a new weapon with him, planning to bludgeon Latvia with it. Russia kept in pace with Latvia, and in his right hand, dragged a long sword through the hallway, tracing a deep gash into the unsightly walls as he moved.
Lithuania didn't even have the opportunity to brace himself for what happened next. The smaller Baltic's legs were a blur as he took a quick and unexpected turn into Lithuania's office, blitzing the older man in a painful impact. Coughing painfully as the air was forced from his lungs, Lithuania hunched over, never grasping a free moment to catch his breath as his superior, out of nowhere, appeared before him, grinning like he'd seen something naughty.
And clenched in Ivan's large gloved hands, was a brutalized version of what was once an important part of his Coat of Arms.
Teutonic sword, you will be dearly missed. Lithuania winced, attempting to part ways with the mangled remnants of his country's pride without crying. God forbid Ivan sees what anguish it caused him.
"Toris-kun! Spasibo!" Russia praised loudly, lifting Lithuania and embracing him in a quite literally bone-crushing hug against his massive chest. "You saved me the trouble of having to apprehend little Latvia, I will never forget this!" He continued, giggling as he cuddled—more like suffocated—his favorite subordinate in euphoric celebration. Lithuania nodded with a grateful smile, it was better to acknowledge Russia's rare moments of praise as long as it caused it to end quickly. He needed to resume breathing at some point, after all.
Russia lowered Lithuania to the floor gently, turning to a whimpering Latvia with a different expression. All evidence of any joviality was wiped clean from his face; a dark, torrential aura in his amethyst eyes, and a crazed smirk on his face.
"Raivis Galante." Russia called, lifting the boy by the scruff of his neck and dangling him in midair as if to emphasize his helplessness. "Vy budete platit' dorogo dlya raboty u menya. /You will pay dearly for running from me./ "He snarled, throwing Latvia over his broad shoulder like he was a pool towel, the small Baltic boy losing consciousness out of sheer fear of the Ruski.
Bowing in apology for disturbing the "peace" of the office, Ivan vacated Lithuania's office, humming Russian folksong as he went. Lithuania shivered in repulsion, sensing sadistic anticipation bleed from the Communist's pores as he trailed down the hallway with his prey, massive boots echoing with a *thump* throughout the hall.
Lithuania exhaled loudly in relief, reclining against his desk, grateful that his heartbeat was returning to a normal pace. Every confrontation with those two often left Lithuania feeling stressed and disoriented. Gathering his documents, he shoved them into a random drawer, quietly making false promises to himself that he'd tidy it all up later. Grabbing his jacket from his wicker chair, he left his office for the day, eager to return home for a bit. Maybe sip some tea, call up Feliks. It'd been so long since he'd last seen or spoken to Poland, he couldn't help but miss the distracted ex-ally.
Lifting the receiver, Toris dialed the number he'd committed to memory since his alliance with Poland had been cruelly severed.
After a few monotone rings, Feliks picked up, answering with his usual sentiments.
"Liiike….hello?"
"H-h-hello Feliks…how have you been as of late?" Lithuania couldn't help but stammer, it'd been so long since he'd spoken to his old friend.
"Umm…I've been busy, actuallyyy. I'm planning on like, making my house super big. And pink. It's going to be like, the pride of the nation." Feliks bragged.
It had only been a minute or two, and Toris was already aggravated by his former allies behavior. Poland had a terrible habit of spending government funds on aesthetic needs and material things for himself, instead of items that could improve his country.
Lithuania looked around his office, his eyes darting around the room and through the mouth of the hallway, ensuring that no one else was eavesdropping.
"D-don't you want to strengthen your military forces? Russia has been talking of plans to invade you, and I'm concerned. What will you do if he attacks you today?" Toris blurted, a strong sense of urgency in his voice. He hated it when Feliks was his usual, naïve self. It caused him a great deal of worry, Poland was such a hassle.
"Liiike, you worry too much, Toris-kun. If that bastard like, tries to invade my fortress, I'll just tell him to like…stop and stuff."
Lithuania couldn't believe his ears. The mighty tyrant psychopath Russia, with his ample forces and unbelievable strength and disturbing ruthlessness, was going to attack small, puny Poland. And Feliks thinks Ivan will desist if he just yells "stop!"?
"Feliks, be reasonable please! Ivan-kun is a devious opponent and he will have no mercy with you!" Lithuania cried, his hands shaking, clamped to the receiver. "I'm warning you because I don't want to see you hurt!"
"…I'll be fine."
"Feliks..." Toris felt a pang of sadness, the bubbly–ness was gone from his friend's voice, now a morose and somewhat annoyed tone replaced it.
"I've like, got to go take care of some things around here, I assure you I can like, handle this. Take care, Toris." The receiver reverted to its growly dial tone as the call disconnected. Toris's hand trembled as it dropped the phone onto its cradle.
He felt terribly guilty that he couldn't help Feliks. It wasn't his fault that he'd lost his ally, he never wanted to separate from Feliks, despite the arguments they had over who would submit to who's culture. He'd always valued him as a comrade, so to speak, and most importantly, as a close friend in which he shared a seemingly unbreakable bond. Maybe something more. But on that infamous wintry night, he'd been ripped from Felik's side, and quite literally dragged into an alliance with the Red Giant, Russia.
And now Feliks was terribly naïve to the danger he was in, vulnerable to Russia's unpredictable attacks. Toris had attempted to show him the reality of the situation, but it'd only served to insult the Polish man.
"He just doesn't understand that I want the best for him...he'll never understand…" Toris hissed to himself in frustration. He cared deeply for Feliks, and always worried about his welfare, even from far away in the belly of the Communist mansion. And in times of trouble, Toris couldn't even aid his former charge. He was trapped, and if anything happened, would be forced by Ivan to watch the chaos and bloodbath from a first person view. Lithuania collapsed into his office chair, hands over his face, tears streaming down his cheeks.
He couldn't stand the torture and the stress of working for Russia anymore, he couldn't take the destruction Ivan wreaked every time he had a whim to expand territory. And Toris would be little, meek Lithuania no longer. He would not allow the death of any more countries, and he'd protect Felix no matter what it took.