The prompt pairing was Toris/Alfred, I was intrigued because it wasn't the other way around. Add the comment "while they're in Ivan's harem" and mixed with dramas of such, you get a story of scheming countries striving for a perceived master's attention.
Summary: In a world where America lost the Cold War, Ivan's war trophies include the personifications of the former USA, Canada, Mexico and Cuba. The four nations are sent to live in Ivan's home, where other countries in the Soviet sphere live stripped of their powers. Bitter and paranoid, the nations strive to increase their individual influence and prestige in the Braginski fortress, and at the same time try to stop others from doing the same. Ultimately, the one most vested in Ivan's favour is Yao, and through association alone Korea and Vietnam have their own form of prestige. The other nations would do anything to gain a similar, if not superior, title.
Upon arrival, Alfred makes it clear he would do anything to oppose Ivan. At the same time, the Baltics suffer almost every time Ivan is displeased. Elizaveta would do anything to undermine the system and Natasha would do anything to strengthen it. Gilbert and Katyusha are respectively on the offensive and defensive in their hopes of staying safe. A visiting Denmark, negotiating for the release of Greenland, is present and creating a secret Northern conspiracy. As the countries scheme, plot, and deceive, they run into conflicts with each other, but cannot deny certain attractions, the worst weakness to have.
There was a curfew that the residents of the large mansion lived in, an unspoken law that none of them could leave or enter the place without permission from the mansion's owner himself. The few servants had more flexibility, they required documentation and still had to go through security checkpoints, but they were allowed more freedom for their errands. The curfew did not apply to them, and as such, they could enter and leave the mansion as long as they followed proper protocol.
That night seemed like any other, slightly chilly with the cold Russian wind stalking the grounds, sending the red Communist flags fluttering from their posts. A group of men, dressed in dull work uniforms, were leaving the mansion and walking to the gates. Communist ideology dictated a classless society with no servants and no exploiting class, but it was far from happening. Until all enemy classes were removed, the leaders of the country were too busy to work on mundane, less important tasks like cleaning.
Frost crunched under heavy boots, soon winter would be coming and snow would cloak Moscow in white and grey. The men continued walking to the gates, wishing to get the processing done as quickly as possible so they could leave the mansion's grounds and return home. Normally, this would be no problem, but tonight this was not the case. When the servants got close enough to the gates, they realized too late that the usual guards had disappeared; instead a fresh unit of soldiers had been deployed – and they were not the usual Soviets.
"Other people might think that Ivan Braginski of the Soviet Union was the only militant force in this mansion, the way security here has fallen so soon after his departure."
The cool voice, smooth as silk but cold as steel, cut through the frosty air. The walking servants froze, staring at the man who had spoken. He was the only one seated, and the soldiers surrounded him protectively. For that had been his price, thousands of lives had been given for this beautiful man, with his porcelain white skin, long raven-black hair, and only the slightest hint of a Chinese accent in his Russian now.
"My dear brother has not even properly warmed his seat besides the Soviets, why does he need to dress up in such a poor disguise and try to leave this home?"
Those dark eyes looked at one servant in particular, hiding behind his own disguised servants, head bowed. The personification of Xinjiang knew he had been caught, and this time, Russia was not here to stop China from taking back what the Chinese nation thought was his.
The soldiers marched forward and seized the disguised servants, none of which put up a fight. If they were important enough they would simply be imprisoned, but if they were not a bullet would be placed in the back of their heads, curtsey of Wang Yao of China. Xinjiang himself was seized and forced to return to his chambers, escorted by fully armed guards and Yao himself. Along the way, no one tried to stop them, the remaining residents of the mansion must have barricaded themselves indoors, frightened of the silent soldiers that had suddenly appeared.
The doors to his chambers were flung open and Xinjiang was roughly pushed down to a seat by two soldiers. Yao and the other soldiers did not follow them in, and they didn't need to. Inside the chamber were three more guards, and one other nation. Im Yong Soo of Korea, or more specifically, Yong of North Korea, full human name classified information. Since the division of Korea a few years ago, the personification of the nation had split into two personalities, the old Im Yong Soo and a new colder personality simply named Yong (1), the latter of which was often seen in the higher Soviet circles.
Dressed in his military uniform and wearing his hat and gloves, Yong stared at the Xinjiang personification hatefully, as if China's autonomous province had done him personal wrong. Yong marched towards the seated province with something in his hand, a glass cup, Xinjiang realized quickly. When they were close enough Yong spoke, and it was quickly down to business.
"Wang Yao of China is displeased with the separatist movements happening under your jurisdiction. His leaders have sent in the military to stabilize the region, and to consolidate Beijing's control of the area. Since your people are causing so many rebellions and chaos, Beijing will enforce law and order. Yao grants you this poisoned wine as your last drink, before his military reasserts control of your province."
"No!" Xinjiang struggled against the two soldiers, "I refuse! I won't drink it!" It was a good thing Yong was still holding that cup, keeping Xinjiang still were the soldiers' responsibility. As it was, no human can hold down the personification of nations or autonomous regions, and Xinjiang broke free. He ran to the doors and flung them open, trying to escape.
The night air was a blast to his face, and Xinjiang stumbled briefly as he went down the steps. That was all it took for the two soldiers, plus the three that had been present in the room, to grab him. As the province fell to his knees, he looked up and met Yao's dark eyes. Xinjiang had not cried for so long, not even when his people were fighting and suffering, but this time he was close. He knew his people could not handle Yao's wrath. It wasn't just the Xinjiang people causing China trouble, Xinjiang knew what was really going on behind those cold eyes.
"Yao, brother…" Xinjiang hated to plea, but his people might be depending on it soon. Yao's military was one of the strongest in the world, if they went into Xinjiang they would overwhelm the locals completely. "Brother, comrade, please…I know I've done wrong. I know, I know I shouldn't have taken the opportunity while you were away to sneak into Ivan Braginski's favour."
Yao remained unmoved, even when Xinjiang called himself a sneak. Xinjiang continued, hating himself but desperate. "I know I shouldn't have tried to get closer to him. I know I shouldn't have tried to use him to strengthen myself and become a independent nation. I know I shouldn't have said bad things about you in front of him. I know I shouldn't have even dared dream to get independence and compete with you for Braginski's attention. I know, I know it's my fault, from now on I'll do as you say and keep away from the Russians. Please, spare my life, and those of my people! Don't send in your military, please!"
The personification of the second major Communist power in the Eastern bloc examined his fingers, almost disinterested in what was happening around him. Like he was back in China and away from these Soviet guards and their troublesome troubles, like he was back in a time when he was young and untroubled by the outside world. Contemporary times had destroyed his dynasties, his cultures and pride, it had changed Yao enough. Like his leaders back in Beijing, like Ivan himself, Yao was no longer tolerant of any perceived threats to his power.
"Many societies in this world believe that if one is willing to repent, the person should be forgiven." Yao watched as a brief flicker of hope entered the other's eyes. "However I believe that even if repentance is sought it must have been sought at the correct time, not only after faced with punishment, or that repentance means nothing. Yong, if our dear brother here doesn't want to take his poisoned wine, then have him hanged!"
"As you wish," Korea answered even as Xinjiang choked in despair. The province began struggling again, but this time Yong grabbed his arm and helped the soldiers dragged him back inside. Xinjiang continued to fight tooth and nail, screaming against his captors.
"No, I don't want to die or be annexed! I don't! Wang Yao, you cursed nation! I curse you to be divided again, to fall under the control of other countries again! I'll have your relationship with Ivan further divided, your people rebel against you, those newcomer North Americans to ruin the Soviet unity…!"
"Yao," the woman standing besides the Chinese nation turned away from the screaming province being dragged back into his room. She looked at Yao with almost doleful eyes, which would have deceived the world about her age and identity, for like Yao she was a nation, the personification of Vietnam herself (2). "Xinjiang is merely an autonomous region, you don't need to hear such words from him. It's late, why don't you retreat for the night? Yong will have Xinjiang finished and the soldiers gone before Braginski returns."
"…America may have fallen but neither Alfred nor his people's spirits will be broken so easily! Ivan bringing those North Americans here will give them a chance to divide the Eastern alliance! I told Ivan it was a bad idea but now I shall be laughing…!"
"Very well," Yao answered, ignoring his province's voice shouting faintly behind closed doors. The nation stood just as there was a sharp rustle of cloth, and the shadows showed a makeshift rope being hung from the ceiling. Many listeners thought they might have heard a quiet and sickening crack, yet even before that, those present heard the hung province's last words.
"The Soviet bloc will fall, Wang Yao…"
!
Alfred F. Jones had watched as the North Americas fell to the Soviets.
The former Capitalist superpower and leader of the Western bloc had tried, he had tried to get his leaders to stop the Soviets, to interfere even in supposed 'domestic affairs' of other countries. Wasn't that the main goal of his many intelligence agencies in the first place? Or was it because they were so effective overseas, that Alfred had forgotten about his neighbours? Admittedly he had placed his European allies as priority, but Alfred had thought his people dealt with their neighbouring countries enough.
Well, not really. After the whole incident with Cuba and Soviet missiles, Alfred cut off all communication with Raul (3). He may have promised not to militarily invade the island nation, but that didn't mean Alfred couldn't show his displeasure. Cutting off relations however did not become as effective as he hoped, main reason being that his neighbours Canada and Mexico continued to have regular dealings with the regional communist. America had protested, but ultimately backed off from the foreign policies of other sovereign, independent nations that were not communist.
How quickly that had changed.
In Canada, it had started off as a natural disaster event. Alfred couldn't remember too clearly what happened, admittedly partly because he had other priorities at that time, but also partly because the disaster happened in northern Canada, far from the American border and more closer to the arctic. What he did remember was that at the site of the disaster an unusually high number of people had been caught in it. As Canadian authorities rushed to send in relief units, Russians on the other side of the arctic had done the same.
Cold War politics at the time made the Canadian and Russian sides wary of each other, the American presence of Alaska did little to help matters. Yet when disaster came, the Russians followed and it was not to take advantage of the chaos to expand their borders, but to help. Media coverage of the time showed Russians and Canadians working side by side as they dug out survivors, set up temporary shelters, gave medical care and fed the people. It had vastly improved relations between the two countries and Alfred's conscience would not let him interfere. So he didn't say anything when Matthew and Ivan signed contracts between them, promising increased dialogue and later, the more worryingly clause of easier entry to the other country in times of disaster.
"This actually might help in the long term," Matthew had said in response to Alfred's worries. "If Ivan and I are more inclined to talk about relief packages instead of how much we hate each other's ideology, he'll be less likely to think about sending a missile my way."
Alfred knows what Matthew is thinking, with the American and Russian missiles pointed at each other over the arctic, Canada was caught right in between. Instead of making their own weapons, Matthew's leaders had decided to take the dubious route of promoting worldwide disarmament instead. Alfred thought Matthew was crazy and leaving himself open to attack, Matthew thought he was perfectly sane and that his lack of weapons would not trigger paranoia from others.
Sometimes, Alfred did wonder if Matthew purposely set himself up to look peaceful and kind so that any nation intending to hurt him would face international condemnation for 'picking on the defenseless one'. In any case, Russia had quickly got around that. It should have been a warning when the Russians seized control of Greenland.
The next disaster to strike Matthew had been a series of bombings. Suspecting radical Quebec separatists again, hindered by officials who only believed that option and no other, Matthew had accepted Ivan's offer of aid. Under their contract, a Soviet investigation unit was allowed in quickly. They were a small group at first, but claiming that they were surrounded by too many biased investigators, more and more Soviets were allowed in. These Soviets investigated but also made the right connections, for what followed next was essentially a coup.
A toppled government, mass executions, and a purging of many public and military officials; the establishment of a new government led by the initial group of investigators sent into Canada, all of whom were pro-Moscow. Although the Soviets seized control quickly thanks to the spies sent in earlier to infiltrate every level of the country, there had been a short period of chaos. During that time, many fled to America and Matthew vanished. Afterwards, the border between the North American brothers was shut down like another Iron Curtain, neither side able to cross to the other.
It had been the first time Alfred called Raul in months, yelling and demanding to know if Raul had prior information about this. Raul yelled back that he didn't know you capitalist pig and no I did not send in troops to help Ivan hurt your brother! Mexico would later tell Alfred that when she called, Raul told her he had made it clear he was unhappy at Ivan but had also requested that the nation treat Matthew gently when the Soviets found him.
Not long after Canada fell, Mexico followed.
Economic decisions from both Mexican and American governments had allowed some groups in Mexico to get rich, but had thrown thousands into poverty. With the rise of poverty came the rise of crime, and it wasn't long before guns and drugs spread the streets. The government and their public security could not keep the peace, and very soon public security became private forces hired to keep the shrinking government safe from attacks. The upper classes did the same, fearing the masses roaming about they began hiring their own paramilitary and police forces to protect themselves and their property. Meanwhile, the homeless masses organized themselves into groups, partially to protect members from attacks and partially to attack others in the fight for survival.
It was basically civil war after that, with many factions fighting and stealing from each other. Groups emerged from both upper and lower classes, even the government ended up becoming just another faction because they could exercise no legitimate control over its population. With no national infrastructure, no legitimate regime, no real economy or currency, and everyone fighting against each other, the country was on the brink of becoming a failed or dissolved state.
Alfred wanted to help dear Estela, who he could see was suffering from all the turmoil, but Mexico had become unsafe land. Alfred's boss did not want to get dragged into another war, so instead they had selected certain groups believed to be more pro-America and pro-capitalist to be eligible for American aid. Funding, advice, and supplies were sent, but as few Americans as they could afford.
But despite all that Estela's suffering did not cease, and her health continued to fall. Alfred dragged her over his side of the border after the neighborhood she lived in was attacked, but she insisted on staying close to her lands, watching and praying for the day someone, anyone, could unite her people and stop their fighting and screams of pain. The unstable situation made it impossible for Alfred to gather accurate information about the country's status, and his boss was more inclined to spending his resources overseas. As long as the troubles did not cross the border, Alfred couldn't do anything to help his southern cousin.
When some form of stability was finally imposed on the nation, it was not by the groups funded by America, but by Soviet troops. Raul had seen Estela's suffering too, and asked Ivan for help. After monitoring the situation and making their plans, troops from the Soviet Union and Cuba had gone into Mexico. The transition of power was nowhere as smooth as it had been in Canada, but the two countries managed to set up another pro-Moscow communist government. No one need to be told twice before all the other groups were arrested and executed, depending on the threat they were perceived to be.
Again, refugees fled into America, spreading the news of what had happened. Without any official communication between the United States and Mexico, and chaos so closely associated with the latter, the American populace had grown used to the fighting happening. They were thus shocked when they realized there were outside factions forming. Alfred's government demanded a withdrawal of all Soviet and Cuban forces from Mexico, but those calls were ignored, the soldiers too busy hunting enemies and establishing connections to Moscow, the new government reorganizing the communities on their turfs and trying to win support. It just so happened that the territory seized by the Communists was not far from the American border.
This time, Alfred sent in troops and dragged the western alliances in. Matthew's border may have been closed quickly but Estela's long had become American-dominated as the civil fighting in her country continued. American troops, aided by those sent by the Western bloc, went into the country quickly. Mexico essentially became another proxy war between the two superpowers and their allies, but very quickly it became another Vietnam for Alfred, who realized that his troops were not faring as well as he had hoped.
Not long after that realization, Yao finally forgave Ivan for the latest Sino-Soviet spat and sent Chinese troops in. Smaller units of Korean and Vietnamese troops followed, helping the Soviets push the western troops back. Alfred was close to donning his own uniform and marching out with his men, but when he nearly walked right pass Estela one day without seeing her, he realized how close the state of Mexico was to disappearing completely. Time was running out.
Then Arthur and Francis told him that Ivan had contacted them. If the western troops did not leave Mexico soon, a fresh unit of Soviet-Canadian troops will be sent in. Short of nuclear-bombing the country, there was no way they could beat the Soviet, Cuban, Chinese, Vietnamese, Korean and Canadian forces combined. The Soviets alone had enough soldiers, the western troops could not handle all the other militaries plus the Mexicans fighting on their side.
Alfred knew his allies were pulling out, half mad with the pain of his people dying and the fear of being trapped between two communist countries, Alfred personally joined in the fighting. Telling himself this was for his people, for sick Estela and missing Matthew, for his failure in Vietnam and protection of the western bloc, he fought and killed. He broke his promise of not hurting Estela when he shot her people, he forgot his morals when he dealt with the prisoners, demanding information about his enemies. Sometimes he wondered if the European soldier he shot was Soviet or Ally, and he remembered the first time he stabbed a friend, simply because the soldier woke him up from nightmares.
He was losing it.
When he suffered his thirteenth shot – unlucky number, very much so – Alfred fell to the ground. He was waiting for the temporary death before he rematerialized, like those characters who die in video games and return shortly for the next round. It took several seconds before he realized that he had not been hit with a bullet, but a tranquillizer.
The shooter was a tall Soviet, he could be Russian or Ukrainian or Lithuanian or Hungarian or any of the other countries now part of the USSR and simply Soviet. After Alfred's unit were all killed or captured, the shooter approached and examined Alfred's face. He had Alfred taken to a Soviet camp, but instead of being interrogated Alfred was brought to a medical wing. Raul's rough voice declared him the real Alfred F. Jones, before telling him in a quiet whisper that Matthew Williams had been found. Estela was being returned to Mexico as they speak, a Mexico that while still in chaos now had safe areas that were solely controlled by the Communists. More and more people were drawn to the temporary peace these safe areas provided, increasing Soviet support as a result.
Alfred had lost the war. Soviet countries now surrounded him, and nuclear missiles were being set up in Canada again, this time pointed at America. Western Europe was withdrawing into itself, France and Germany had been working on a coalition for while, hoping to get Europe together without 'American interference' (4). Now they wanted to stay out of 'the American mess', a sick twist to the isolationists Alfred's government once had who called post-world war Europe 'an European mess'.
With Cuba, Canada and Mexico now under his control, Ivan had 'invited' the nations to live with him. Alfred was welcomed, for while Alfred had been fighting in Mexico, Washington and Moscow had started dialogue again. Washington was cornered, but not completely, and there were hints of nuclear war starting if the Soviets pushed too far. As a result, while life in the United States continued like normal, Moscow would now hold an unofficial check on Washington's power.
Western troops were soon given the order to withdraw from Mexico. Soviet and Asian troops remained to help the various fledging communist governments establish legitimacy, since there were still those who oppose the new governments. Soon plans were being set for the new satellite nations' personifications to be sent to Moscow. Alfred refused to go, he knew what could happen to him if he ventured into Ivan's personal territory.
He was subsequently drugged and sent on a plane to Moscow with the others. That way, he could not fight back nor intimidate his Soviet escorts.
!
Eduard von Bock, personification of the country of Estonia, comrade of the USSR and one of the most level-headed nations in the world, watched the landing plane with no small amount of caution. Ivan was still away, he wouldn't be able to punish him right away for any perceived wrongdoings, but the task was something that the Baltic nation was sure Ivan had assigned to make his life difficult.
Welcome the North Americans to my home, Estonia, make sure they are comfortable.
Estonia knew how Ivan had acquired those new nations for his 'family'. Cuba he's met before, the nation having visited Ivan several times in the past, it was the others he worried about. Estonia had been present during the short golden age of Soviet-Canadian relations before the coup, he'd contributed to the Soviet troops sent into Mexico, and he'd read the negotiation records between Washington and Moscow. The three nations probably hated Ivan more then ever, he'd been sent a warning before that the American nation had to be drugged just so he could be brought over.
Wheels touched the ground smoothly as the plane slid gracefully down the path before coming to a gradual stop. As the staff began to move so did Eduard, who stepped out with a welcome speech prepared in his head and face set in his default polite smile. The words died in his mouth when after a Russian guard stepped out, the first nation followed.
Cuba looked mad, correct American terminology would be that Cuba was pissed off as hell. He looked like he wanted to shoot someone, namely, the nation behind him. Raul looked like he had just walked out of a fight, his clothing untidy and a black eye on his face, and was already in mid speech.
"…the only reason! If this so-called heroic nation would have less imagination, we would have been spared all this!"
"Hey, who was the one with the brilliant idea of placing me alone with several Russian guards?"
It seemed as if the drugs wore off earlier then expected, for America stepped out of the plane shortly after Cuba. The nation also looked like a mess, his hair everywhere, clothing torn, and sprouting a split lip. Furthermore, he was walking with a slight limp and his hands had been handcuffed, but despite all this he carried himself with confidence and strength, as if telling the world that despite everything he was far from defeated.
"I don't know what rock you've been living under, commie, but if you thought it was a good idea to have me drugged and waking up to several Russian guards…"
"Hate to break it to you, capitalist pig, but you'll be seeing plenty of Russian guards from now on…"
"Listening to that Soviet's orders to get me here in any way, what a good dog you've become…"
"No longer superpower now, I laugh at how the mighty have fallen…"
While the two were bickering, a girl stepped out of the door, Mexico. Eduard's heart almost stilled at how ill she looked, and no doubt some of the fault would fall on him, for providing men to the Soviet troops currently fighting back in her home. She caught his eyes, and recognizing him, sharply tapped on the bickering nations' heads.
"Ow!"
"What?"
"Quiet, you two, we have a guide." She gestured towards Eduard's direction, and the two nations stopped fighting when they saw him. Raul gave his trademark smirk, Alfred looked torn between being friendly to a fellow nation or shouting at another communist but quickly chose to wave in greeting. Estela smiled before turning to look over her shoulder as Matthew stepped out.
It was odd to see Canada without his pet polar bear, odder still to see the complete lack of expression. There was no vaguely polite smile, no frown nor frustration, Matthew simply looked at Eduard and that was it. Compared with the scruffy we-obviously-had-a-fight America and Cuba, not to mention the ill looking Mexico, Canada looked the healthiest but his demeanour was the most changed. Eduard was at loss on how to treat him to 'make sure the North Americans were comfortable'. He'll have to figure it out later through trial and error.
"Hello all," Eduard greeted once the newcomers were close enough. He's met all the North Americans before, but just in case they forgot he introduced himself. "My name is Eduard, I'll be responsible for escorting all of you to the Braginski mansion."
"Where's Toris?" Alfred asked, mind jumping to the Baltic state he had been the most familiar with. Eduard was prepared for that question and answered.
"Toris is escorting Ivan on a business trip, they haven't declared a return date yet but it should not be long. Raivis is overseeing some errands at the Asian front and should be returning anytime now. The others should be accounted for in the Braginski mansion. Now, shall we?"
Flanked by Soviet guards on all sides, Eduard led the group to the cars waiting for them. None of them questioned Eduard about the security, Alfred's behaviour said enough about him trying an escape attempt given the chance. Not that there were many places he could escape to, once inside the Soviet Union, escape was close to impossible.
"The Braginski mansion is essentially like a fortress, high security and heavily guarded. The entry and exit of every individual is closely monitored, especially for us nations." Eduard noted the slight narrowing of Alfred's eyes. The American was considering testing that, so Eduard hurried on, hoping to convince him otherwise. "Of course, the guards and servants don't know about our identities, to them we are simply high profile individuals. They know not to touch us, but in an escape attempt they know they can get away with a lot of things."
"Ivan is of course, the head of the mansion and 'family'. After him, the rest of Eastern Europe, including his sisters, are next in the hierarchy. Those nations exercise considerable power in the mansion, some more than others. All four of you will be joining those ranks. As for personal influence and prestige, you will have to create your own base." Raul's eyes glittered slightly, Eduard knew that nation would probably understand the concept the most. Post-revolution Cuba had been quite the vanguard state in the international world, sending doctors and soldiers to many countries and creating support and legitimacy for itself.
"In theory, visitors and outside factions are ranked below you all. That is not always the case, the Asian camp currently residing in the Braginkski fortress wield considerable influence over Ivan's decisions. When visiting nations, whether diplomats, negotiators or representatives, decide to stay over they also have a certain prestige to them."
"If it's not classified information," Mexico interrupted. "Besides the mentioned Asian camp, are there any other visiting nation currently residing in the mansion?"
"Oh yes," Eduard pushed his glasses up before answering. "A group of diplomats are currently staying over, one of them is Mikkel of Denmark himself (5). You should all know why he is present, the Soviet occupation of Greenland is not to be taken lightly." Feeling the hard gaze, Eduard glanced up and met Matthew's eyes. The northern nation said nothing, but Eduard had a good idea of what he was thinking.
"Officially, your ranks would all be only below Ivan," Eduard continued. "Once we step inside the Soviet Union, all of us are Soviets, no matter our history or achievements. We all work for the workers paradise and thus, are subordinate to the Soviet leaders and their interpretation of the ideology. However, in the private sphere and in the Braginski mansion, we are all aware of the sub ranks that start appearing if a nation gains more favour from Ivan."
"In other words, there is still class conflict," Alfred rolled his eyes. Mexico frowned softly at him.
"America, please, that attitude would probably get you in trouble when we're under Soviet surveillance."
"Mexico is right," Eduard didn't give the American a chance to counter. "On the other side of the Iron Curtain, you may have been one of the most powerful nations and could enforce your will on other countries. On this side in the Soviet Union, you've lost your superpower status, you can no longer simply force your will and foreign policy on others. Unless Ivan decides it, Estela is no longer your satellite state to order around."
The look on Alfred's face was affronted, but the words were not what Eduard were expecting. "I've always considered Estela more then a satellite state! Heroes always treat others equally and respectfully!" Alfred's hands were still handcuffed, but he lifted them up and touched Estela's shoulder lightly. "Estela's a friend, despite what my leaders may say. I've protected her in the past, and I will continue to protect her even under Soviet leadership."
Estela smiled, and although Raul and Matthew could have said something both chose not to break the moment as she leaned closer to Alfred. Alfred's brave grin showed integrity, he may not always make the best decisions but he did have the best intentions. For that brief moment, Alfred was not sulking or yelling, he was simply someone caught up in the situation and forced under Soviet dictatorship but still willing to protect those he cared for. Eduard's heartstrings tugged as he looked at Alfred and Estela, leaning so closely and trustingly.
It was the perfect setup for tragedy to strike.
The scenery passed them in silence, the sun was setting, it was a dark blue sky streaked with gold. Shadows played over the two figures in their quiet embrace, and no one said anything to break it. The nations were quiet now, and not even Eduard felt like breaking the silence. Complementing on the picture Alfred made with his southern neighbour, he remembered the cracks that had been quietly appearing in the western alliances. Perhaps in this era under Soviet leadership, the Americas could get along better.
Eventually, they arrived to the Braginski mansion. As if a new intimacy had been founded, Alfred and Estela stayed close together. The benefit was that, at least for a short while, Alfred wasn't making a scene or making his disrespect for the place blatantly obvious. After unlocking Alfred's handcuffs, Eduard led the group to the gates, where two guards checked their documents before they were let in. There was a slight tension in the air as the nations stepped through the gothic structures, and it seemed as if time moved at a slow pace as they took a few steps forward. Once they were inside, the gates let out a small creak before slamming shut behind them. With a slight jolt, Alfred turned around to look behind him.
Closed gates greeted his eyes, and the indifferent guards hardly paid the nations any attention. Alfred stared at them, and finally something wistful crossed over his face, recognizing that he would probably never step outside again.
!
"How in the world did we get lost?"
Silence.
"I swear it was this direction, honestly!"
More silence.
"This mansion is as heavily guarded as a fortress! Those guards are instructed to use any means to keep us from supposedly escaping or acting suspicious, if they see us now we'll have a hard time explaining!"
Another silence, and Raul's scowl deepened.
"Matthew! I'm talking to you!"
"I'm Canada," Matthew answered automatically, before he registered what Raul said. The northern nation looked up to his frustrated friend's face, "Sorry about that. Did you recognize something else?"
Raul's scowl deepened, but he said nothing and simply looked away. He had been the one to drag Matthew aside, for them to talk while America and Mexico were busy with Estonia. He couldn't help it, since Matthew had been found after the Russian sponsored coup, the blonde had become even more withdrawn. They used to get along, but Matthew hardly looked at him now, so Raul had wanted to talk. Initially he planned to wait until after they had settled in, but he dragged Matthew aside not long after they stepped in the Braginiski mansion. Matthew didn't put up a fight.
Matthew didn't even give Raul the satisfaction of a confrontation either. The northern nation simply looked at him again and said he did not see Raul as an enemy, wasn't that enough? Raul tried to bring the topic to his real question, but all his attempts were subtly thwarted. In a move uncharacteristic of him, Raul had dropped the topic, unsure whether he wanted to push. When they returned to the previous spot, the other three nations had disappeared.
A few more turns and twists later, the two were lost. The Braginski mansion was larger than expected, and now Raul was getting agitated. He had been in the mansion before, but all times he had an escort, largely because there were some places forbidden to all except a few. If they accidently stumbled into those areas, they could face consequences, like getting shot or arrested.
As if on cue, three guards suddenly turned a corner and spotted them. Instantly they were hostile, "Who are you two?"
"Don't shoot!" Raul snapped back, sounding more irritated than fearful. "We don't mean to trespass on any territory."
"We've only lost our way, comrades, I assure you we are true Soviets of this mansion" Matthew added. "Proper documents are in our pockets, you can search us yourself if you find us suspicious."
The guards briefly glanced at each other before turning back to the two nations. "Lost your way? This is territory far from the permanent residential areas. Suspicious behaviour, don't you think?" The nations stiffened as the man continued, "Any true Soviet of this residence would know that suspicious behaviour will not to be tolerated. Have them arrested!"
"Don't touch me!" Raul flung his arms out to stop the man from grabbing him. When they insisted on trying to contain him, Raul grew even more agitated. What followed was a brief scuffle until a new voice interrupted.
"Hey! What's all the commotion for?"
The three Soviets and Cuban instantly stopped fighting. Matthew, who had basically been left alone after the guards had all decided that Raul was the bigger problem, turned around to watch as a man with spiky pale hair approached. Mirthful blue eyes watched as the guards scrambled to their feet and dusted themselves off, trying to appear professional despite the dog pile they had been caught in.
"Ah, Comrade Mikkel, we apologize for disturbing you from your rest."
Mikkel nodded at the guards who saluted him briefly. He looked over the other strangers with curiosity, "Who are those two?"
"I am Comrade Raul of Cuba," Raul stated. "I am a true Soviet with permission to be here in the Workers Paradise, the Soviet Union. This Braginski mansion is to be my home, and I do not intend to feel unwelcomed here, whether by guards or other nations!"
Mikkel laughed, out of all the reactions, he laughed. "Comrade Raul of Cuba, did you say?" A glint appeared in his eyes, perhaps recognizing the significance of the introduction for who Raul really was. Sure enough Mikkel, the personification of the Denmark nation, gave Raul another scan with his eyes. Knowing he was being sized up, the Cuban outright glared back. Mikkel met the glare with his own smile, which was starting to resemble a smirk, before looking over at Matthew. The Nordic country's lips pulled back to reveal a glimpse of teeth.
"If you two really belong here, I assume you have the proper documents to prove it." Denmark then turned to the guards, "If they do, I'll recommend escorting them back to where they should be. The Braginski fortress is spectacular, but overwhelming for newcomers. I once had to ask for help navigating it myself. Do the same favour you once granted me for them, won't you, comrades?"
"Very well," the guard closest to Raul turned to him, only to be thrust with a fistful of paper. They were the documents detailing Raul's identity, and the guard blanched when he realized the Cuban man's importance. Once Matthew's identity was also verified, the guards were ushering the two nations away. Mikkel watched as Raul continued snapping at the guards, Matthew following after them like a pale shadow.
Denmark smirked.
!
"The Russian language is the dominate language here, obviously as nations we have a way of simply understanding each other but learning the official Soviet language is practically a rule. The country and the state, in other words the government, are the same. To be loyal to the country is to be loyal to the Communist party. Only those…"
"Eduard, I'm not being sold into the Soviet propaganda, can we just skip the speech?"
"Alfred, I'm trying to help you understand the…ah, there you are! Nice to know you two are safe and sound, Cuba, Canada."
Mexico and America turned around to see the other two nations returning, escorted by Soviet guards. Neither looked harmed, although Raul looked scruffier then usual – which was saying something considering how he and Alfred already had a bit of a fight. Speaking of which, the guards seemed less then pristine as well. Which probably explained how quickly they left after exchanging greetings with Eduard; the guards probably wanted to look better before running into a less forgiving nation.
"I take it that the guards gave you no trouble?"
"After they actually read our papers, they didn't," Cuba answered. "Denmark helped with that."
"You two saw Mikkel? How did you manage to wander to the foreign residences?" Neither Raul nor Matthew said anything, so Eduard dropped it. "Never mind, as long as no diplomatic disaster comes out of it, its fine. There's no rule forbidding us from talking to the other nations in this mansion, but that's because we have no official authority or representative power – unless of course, Ivan grants it."
"You have way too many rules here," Alfred muttered. "To be expected, I guess."
"The Soviet Union is full of rules," Eduard said blandly. "If you do something wrong, you are killed. If you say something wrong, you are killed. If you upset someone of a higher rank, you'll also be killed."
A chill settled onto the nations as the words were made clear. Estela shifted uncomfortably, "So essentially, we can never be ourselves in here."
Eduard looked at her, "I know what you're thinking, but once you step inside the Braginski fortress don't expect to be able to be yourself or step outside again. Where can you run? Outside this mansion is the Soviet Union. If you're lucky and gain Ivan's favour you might be assigned tasks outside, even rarer if you gain Ivan's trust he might let you out more regularly, but you might not even live to see that day."
"We're nations!" Alfred interrupted, sensing their discomfort. "Ivan can't kill us like any other servant here!"
"For you satellite nations, Alfred, he can have your country completely annexed while he conducts his own torture. Ivan himself doesn't need to do anything, the others in this mansion would gladly do it. In the Soviet Union, no one trusts anyone, if they can eliminate a threat – even if it is a fellow nation – they will do it. When so many living together don't trust each other, it makes this place very dangerous."
The Soviet bloc will fall, Wang Yao…
Eduard shivered, remembering a certain province's last words before he was annexed and the personification destroyed. He had not been witness to Xinjiang's demise, but he had heard the commotion. He didn't dare say anything, not only was Wang Yao undisputed leader of the Asian camp but he was heavily vested in Ivan's favour, that meant he was practically untouchable in the Soviet camp. The servants caught helping the province had already all vanished, and now, almost everyone feared that Yao would start going after nations as well.
"But there's hope," Eduard pushed those thoughts away, he had orders to make the North Americans comfortable, not scare them. "As long as you follow the rules and steer clear of offending any nation, most of them would not consider you a threat and leave you alone. If you're considering gaining Ivan's favour, you will be considered a threat and treated as such, personally I'll advise against that. Higher rank also means likelier target."
"As if I intend to suck up to that Communist," Alfred muttered. Eduard gave him a bitter smile.
"I think I've given you a good enough walk around the area, let me show you to your quarters. This way, if you will."
Eduard led them out to a small garden before stepping into another chamber. Guards were again present, but they offered no greeting or reaction, standing as still as statues. Eduard led the group up a flight of stairs, to another chamber, then across a small bridge that arched over another small garden. Due to the cold season no flowers were in bloom, but all could guess it must be beautiful. If so many nations lived here and visiting nations came by so often, the Soviets had the obligation to impress.
It also meant extra security measures, guards aside, Alfred noted some of the technologically advanced locked doors and chambers. Since they never had to go through any, Eduard said nothing about them, and none of the nations following him asked.
Then, as they rounded a corner, the North Americans and their guide saw their first residents. Eduard instantly snapped to attention, "Comrade Natasha and Comrade Katyusha! My greetings and regards!"
The North Americans glanced at each other before chorusing, "Greetings, comrades."
"As to you all."
"Thank you, my lady." Eduard relaxed slightly, but the North Americans didn't pay attention as they were observing the two Slavic sisters. Katyusha, the older of the two, had been the one who had spoken first, and her gentle voice fitted her appearance. There was something sisterly and warm about her, with her short soft hair and even softer eyes, Alfred couldn't bring himself to act as hostile as he wanted to.
"Eduard, are these the North American camp?" Nothing mocking or cold in that voice, and Eduard answered.
"Yes, Katyusha, I was just taking them to their residence."
"Then let me welcome you all to Ivan's home, as those he personally invited, he will surely treat you all well," Katyusha smiled.
"I doubt that, sister, because they certainly don't know how to appreciate his invitation." On the other hand, Natasha looked nowhere as warm as her sister. Her own brand of beauty was the ice queen type, which fitted her own voice and attitude just as well. The younger girl gave the scruffier Raul and Alfred an obvious once-over, before stepping forward to Estela and flicking off dirt from her shoulder. "Is there a sandstorm in the area today?"
No one said anything, and Natasha continued. "We may not have rules detailing personal hygiene, but if you're going to be living in my brother's home you'll do well to keep yourself clean. Otherwise you are no more than an embarrassment to the residents of this fortress."
Estela bowed her head, "Thank you for your advice."
Alfred's eyes narrowed, instincts to be the hero even in small incidents stepping in. "I think you've misunderstood, Natasha, that dirt is likely from Cuba or I. As you can clearly see we're both not at our best, it probably just got on Estela when we were brushing shoulders."
Estonia quickly jumped in, "Alfred, just so you know, in the Soviet camp the Slavic sisters are of the highest prestige." You are below them in rank and therefore have no permission to speak was left unsaid, but it was clear. Before Alfred could be indignant, Katyusha diffused the situation.
"It's fine, Eduard," Katyusha looked at Alfred. "You are the United States, no?"
"I am," Alfred admitted.
"And you are likely the most autonomous region of the Soviets?"
Alfred noted the way Katyusha's eyes slid between him and Raul, and he understood. "Yes, and as such I intend to become the leader of the North American camp."
!
"Thinks just because he's the most autonomous and able to challenge Raul's position means he's all that, that American is a complete fool!"
"Now, little sister, he is a newcomer, you cannot blame him for having unrealistic expectations."
Natasha and Katyusha were now seated by a table in one of the other private chambers, discussing the new Soviets who had arrived. Raul used to be their only connection to the North Americas, but now, the whole region had fallen into Soviet control. The personification of the nations had been subject to most debate, since the Eastern alliance all knew Ivan would bring them to his home. Now that they had arrived the female nations were all sharing intelligence, all through the guise of gossip.
"That Alfred does not seem to have had his spirit broken despite losing the war," Elizaveta of Hungary was reclining comfortably on a nearby couch. Wavy brown hair flowed past her shoulders to her waist, the only ornament adorning it being a simple flower. Her eyes had held an unnatural glint since she heard about America. "Furthermore, to have gained your attentions, the country of the United States must still be remarkably well."
"Well, he is a former superpower and still retains most of his culture at home," Natasha sniffed. "Most autonomous region and all, if he didn't look as messy as he did after getting into that fight with Raul, he probably would be healthiest. In other words, he's a lot more likely to show disrespect and run around calling for rebellions."
"Is he actually that active?" Elizaveta raised an eyebrow, "In that case, how does he compare to Xinjiang?"
There was a slight pause, the Slavic sisters exchanging looks. Elizaveta looked at them both, "I think we all know about what the Asian camp did to Xinjiang, even if no one says anything. Both personification and province had independence movements, we've seen what he was doing before Yao and Beijing decided it was enough. Xinjiang knew he was going to be in trouble but he tried anyways, think Alfred has the same passion?"
Katyusha finally frowned, "Personally I think he could cause even more trouble. Unlike with Xinjiang, I don't think the country of the United States would be so easily annexed. Just by population alone, America would prove a challenge."
America may have fallen but neither Alfred nor his people's spirits will be broken so easily…!
Xinjiang's words rang silently in their minds, and so did his promise that the North Americans would tear the Eastern alliance apart. Natasha, the most loyal of the three girls to the Soviet Union, could not help feeling a spark of worry before she brutally crushed it.
!
"What kind of place is this?" Alfred stared at the small space he was given, half insulted. "Even my country's prison cells have bigger rooms and better conditions! I'm staying elsewhere!"
Eduard cringed, he knew Alfred was exaggerating with that prison comparison and that the nation was probably used to larger rooms, but… "It's one of Ivan's policies to keep newcomers in relatively small places with simple furniture first before giving them their own chambers. Establishment of trust, you can say. Plus soviet ideology means you should appreciate the simpler things in life and…"
"Yea, yea, yea," Alfred had stopped listening since he heard it was one of Ivan's policies, that commie probably wanted him to suffer. "How can you all live in these rooms? This one's even facing south west, fine in the winter but its probably scorching hot here in the summer!"
"Ivan's the one who assigned us these rooms, brother, don't make it harder for Eduard." Matthew stepped between his brother and their guide, ever the peacemaker. "Besides, these rooms are not as bad as a 'prison', a more accurate description would be university dormitories."
Eduard let out a breath of relief, but just in case quickly spoke before Alfred could open his mouth again. "Ivan decided this hallway and the rooms to be the temporary place for the North Americans. You all have your own rooms, and they're all similar to what you see here now. That room over there is your own bedroom, fully furnished, and here you have the table and chairs for visitors. You'll also have a personalized light, and by that I mean it won't be automatically turned off when curfew comes and the hallway lights turn off."
"Trust the soviets to not afford lighting!"
"Alfred…"
"Actually, the lack of lighting is another measure used to deter us from disobeying curfew," Eduard explained. "As you saw for yourself when coming here, this place is a fortress, large and with plenty of corridors and courtyards. Without sufficient lighting, it is easy to get lost or run into something. I thought I should inform you, so that you do not attempt a break out. There are enough guards patrolling the area that they could come quickly when they hear a disturbance."
Alfred looked at Eduard, clearly unimpressed, before rolling his eyes. "Okay, I get the idea, play nice or get hurt." Eduard nodded before turning away, leading Mexico and Cuba to their own rooms. Once they were out of earshot Alfred muttered, "I bet I could take down at least ten guards before they can restrain me."
Matthew sighed, "Alfred, you weren't listening were you? In his position, though he and the rest of Baltic states are probably some of the closest to Ivan, they're also ranked below us. You heard him talking about hierarchy; There's Ivan, his sisters, and then there's the rest of us satellite and Asian states. Eduard, Toris and Raivis…their countries are almost completely annexed, they're probably lower than satellite states. Reduced to Ivan's secretaries, they must also be responsible for making us less likely to lash out. Ivan probably releases his anger on them if we do."
Alfred looked at his brother, scowled again, and turned it to the room. "Way to guilt trip us, stupid commie, and this room really is terrible."
At his brother's pouting expression, Matthew smiled briefly, "We'll get moved to better quarters once Ivan sees that we don't intend to cause that much trouble for him. This fortress is huge, surely the rooms cannot be all like this. Just tolerate it for now, brother."
The American glanced at his brother, sighed, and nodded.
But as it was, Alfred was not used to the conditions he was in. The contrast between his current room and the one he had back in his homeland was huge. After tossing and turning in his bed for several hours, Alfred finally sat back up.
"Tolerate it for now, he says, how can I tolerate this?" Running a hand through his hair, Alfred glared around the room. It was after curfew now, and while his room had its own light to turn on, the hallways would only be illuminated by the distant light of nearby buildings and the moon. There would be patrolling guards to stop him if he went too far, but the North American wing of the fortress was not large. Cuba's was a bit further off due to his higher status – Alfred heard that Raul's room had been the one the nation had stayed in every time he visited Ivan, so it was undoubtedly bigger and better furnished – but Alfred didn't want to seek him our anyways.
Matthew's room was closest to his, but going to his room meant facing the cold and wind of General Winter. Nevertheless, Alfred pulled on his jacket, grabbed his shoes, and opened the door.
A blast of cold air hit him, but Alfred ignored it. Drawing his hood closer to his face, the American hurried to Matthew's room. The door was closed and the window had its curtain drawn, no light was on, so Alfred spoke quietly as he passed by the window to the door. "Matthew? Are you awake? It's Alfred, I can't sleep, are you up for a bit of late night conversation?"
His knocks on the door was unanswered, no light or sound escaped the door. Alfred cautiously opened the door – the North American wing had no locks, a fact that had sent Alfred's paranoia soaring – and stepped inside. "Matthew?" He blinked, the bed was empty. "What the…where did he go?"
!
Several corridors and courtyards away, patrolling guards crossed a small bridge that went over a man made river. Amidst the frost-covered flowers and plants that made up the river's bedside, three cloaked figures waited. Once the guards disappeared the three moved, staying close to the shadows and taking care not to make any noise.
They moved silently but swiftly, the swish and rustle of fabric the only noise that escaped them. All three came from different wings of the fortress, but all three had a common destination. Cutting across another courtyard with its beautiful flowers, the three again dove into the shadows when more patrolling guards passed them.
If any of them were caught, they would be punished. It was more than just breaking curfew, it was defying the rules of the fortress, it was losing favour and making themselves even more vulnerable to the scheming of those living in the mansion. All three knew to hide in separate places, so that if one was ever caught the others could escape. They were close to their destination now though, so were eventually travelling closer to each other.
At last, they arrived to a courtyard full of stone statues, all life sized and casted as memorials to famous people. In the dim light it was hard to see who was who, a fact the three were using to their advantage. One of them gestured to the other two, clearly telling them to follow, and moved towards the centre of the courtyard. They only stopped once, becoming as still as the statues themselves, when a pair of patrolling guards walked by the perimeter of the area.
The three resumed moving, cutting pass the statutes and doing their best to ignore those lifeless eyes. Near the perimeter of the courtyard they finally stopped, for they had found what they were looking for. The three straightened, and one by one began to speak.
"Finland…"
"Greenland…"
"And Canada…"
"Would like to greet their benefactor," all three chorused. Finland, or Tino Vainamoinen, stood in the front, hood thrown back to reveal a soft but confidant face (6). To his left Greenland, young but tall, gazed at the figure they were addressing with glittering eyes. To Tino's right, Matthew Williams of Canada smiled his first smile since entering the Soviet Union.
In front of the three, Mikkel of Denmark clapped his gloved hands together, a scheming look on his face. "Glad to see you all well, and Canada, welcome to the secret Arctic council in the Worker's Paradise, where our main and sole purpose is to get rid of the Ivan's control in the north."
!
Back at the North American wing, Alfred searched the nearby areas for his brother, but found nothing. Alfred being Alfred, had stepped out of the wing to the outside hallways. He had expected to run into guards and was prepared to run or hide, what he hadn't expect – and he cursed Eduard for not warning him – was who actually had the most influence in Ivan's security circles.
"You have no idea how much I'm enjoying myself right now," Gilbert Weillschmidt hissed in Alfred's ear as he pinned the struggling blond against a wall. "You alone in the dark, powerless and completely at my mercy…"
"Get off me!" Alfred struggled helplessly, knowing the truth in Gilbert's words. The Prussian, that ex-nazi East-German, had taken Alfred completely by surprise. Alfred hated people working behind him, and that had been exactly what Gilbert had done. The albino had grabbed him from behind and thrown him against the wall, keeping Alfred's hands behind him as he forced Alfred down.
They had only briefly fought in the war, near the end when it was clear Germany was losing. Then during the division of Germany, Alfred had agreed to give Gilbert to Ivan, tearing the brothers apart when they needed each other to recover, when they needed each other most. Gilbert had never quite forgiven Alfred for what he had done, and having the young nation in his grasp now was something out of his darkest fantasies.
"You've only arrived here, right?" Gilbert whispered, feeling a twisted satisfaction when Alfred flinched away from him. Not that Alfred could go anywhere, trapped between the wall and Gilbert's body. "Then Ivan hasn't seen you yet, his newest prize and property…"
Alfred's eyes widened. He couldn't see Gilbert behind him, but he could feel the other nation. One of the two hands holding his wrists behind him had disappeared, instead Alfred could feel the same fingers moving down his back and along his sides. His body jerked instinctively, and Gilbert hissed as the smaller body rubbed against him. Alfred wasn't a virgin, he understood instantly what was happening. Opening his mouth to make a scathing comment, he ended up gasping instead.
That hand had slipped under fabric, fingers running over skin. Alfred squirmed, not entirely uncomfortable but unwilling to admit it. The dark chuckle that emitted behind him said the other knew anyways.
"I'm sure Ivan would enjoy you, very much…"
More then anything, that served as a wake up call. Jerking violently, Alfred heard a pained grunt come behind him. He didn't get to celebrate, Gilbert slammed the Americans head against the wall as a response. As pain exploded in Alfred's forehead, teeth sank into his neck. More unexpected than painful, he cried out, trying to pull out of Gilbert's grasp.
"Get off me…I mean it!"
"Word of advice, Ivan only likes hearing begging from his toys."
The fingers digging into his wrists, the unwanted fingers sliding down his thigh, Alfred squirmed and tried to pull away, but between a hard wall and Gilbert's body he could find no relief. Gasping involuntarily, it was all Alfred could do not to scream or beg. His choked breaths grew more ragged and harsh, and desperate for some distraction, Alfred's thoughts went to what Gilbert just said.
Oh he knew, Alfred knew what was going to happen once he stepped into Ivan's territory and personal home. It had been one of the reasons he refused to come, as his boss once said, the states living under this roof was essentially Ivan's harem, with a good deal of the danger and scheming. Gilbert was probably getting his kicks asserting his temporally dominance over a potential rival.
Fingernails racked over his skin and Alfred whimpered, he threw his head back at a painful dig, and Gilbert's teeth went dangerously close to this throat. When Alfred tried to struggle again, another hand roughly yanked his hair and pulled back, causing him further pain and exposing more of his throat. The realization that Gilbert was no longer restraining his hands did little to help, between his irregular breathing and increasingly muddled brain, Alfred knew he was in no position to fight the other nation.
In the end, what spared Alfred from further humiliation wasn't himself, but a pair of footsteps heading their way. At the approaching sound, Gilbert released the American, stepping back and looking as if he had not being doing anything. Alfred hardly had any time to straighten his clothing before a guard stepped in.
"Comrade Weillschmidt, we've received a tip."
Gilbert smirked, beckoning the guard over. As the man whispered the news into Gilbert's ear, the albino kept his gaze on the American. For now, Alfred had been subdued, but again his spirit was far from broken as he stared back at Gilbert, defiant even as he tried to make himself presentable. Once the guard finished, Gilbert addressed the other nation.
"Interesting news have just been received, Alfred, regarding your southern friend."
"Estela?" Alfred's eyes narrowed, "What are you planning? Leave her alone, Weillschmidt, I warn you…!"
"Oh that's right, the country of Mexico is still in civil war right? And with the presence of so many foreign troops calling for everything from partitions and divisions to the creation of new countries altogether, your friend must be really weak now." Gilbert sneered at the outraged look on Alfred's face, "So in theory, she shouldn't be risking anything that could get her hurt, no? But then again, she's close to having nothing to lose. We shall see, won't we?"
"Where are you going?" Gilbert and the guard had turned and began marching, Alfred ran after them, shouting the whole time. "I'm not going to stand by while you do whatever you want to Estela! What the – why are there so many guards…?"
"Keep the loudmouthed American here restrained," Gilbert ordered. As two guards seized Alfred, Gilbert turned to the door they had arrived in front of. Estela's room, Alfred realized. Without knocking, Gilbert threw the door open and stepped in.
"Search until every speck of dust has been examined!"
"What is the meaning of this?" Someone else beat Alfred in saying it, and that person was Raul of Cuba himself. The nation stood up from where he was sitting in Estela's room, marching forward to the intruders with a warning tone in his voice. Gilbert was unafraid.
"We've received a tip that certain controlled substances have been brought into the Braginski mansion by Estela of Mexico. As the one Ivan left security responsibility to, I have every right to search this place. If you were truly a comrade, you would step aside or help me find evidence."
"Rubbish!" Raul snapped. "Is the tip credible? Is Estela so unreliable? Even if there were drugs smuggled into the Braginski mansion, there are millions of places to hide it in this mansion, why would it be in Mexico's room? What right do you have to search any of us like this?"
Gilbert's response was simple, he withdrew a gun and fired it straight at the ceiling.
BANG!
Alfred jumped back, even as none of the guards flinched. Estela, who had also been sitting by the table, let out a cry while Raul's eyes widened in surprise. Plaster and paint scattered by Gilbert's feet as the Prussian tapped the gun on his shoulder.
"What right? Might is right, Comrade Raul. When you were merely a visitor you may not experience this, but if you intend to stay here that is the policy. My might is the men behind me, the gun in my hand, and Ivan's orders in letting me head security here. Search this place!"
The guards spread out in the rooms, searching for anything forbidden. The nations didn't move, too busy looking and glaring at each other. Estela already looked pale and unwell, it was not helping her maintain innocence, especially when she seem to cringe every time the guards made a noise or spoke to each other. Seeing her discomfort, Alfred angrily turned back to Gilbert.
"I don't care what right you think you may have, Estela is a fellow nation and I refuse to let you treat her like this when Russia isn't even…!"
"Comrades! I think I found something!"
This time, everyone turned to look at the source of the noise. One of the guards had picked up a doll, probably woven by Mexico's indigenous people, and had checked inside. As the nations watched, some in interest and some in dawning horror, a small bag containing something white was deposited into the guard's hand.
Gilbert walked forward and took the item for himself, examining it closely. In those few seconds everyone's eyes were on him, watching with various expressions, as he confirmed it. Gilbert turned to Estela and held out the bag, "You have any explanations? I thought not."
Raul and Alfred looked at Estela, expecting some sort of denial or argument. Mexico simply turned her head away, sealing her guilt.
"According to Soviet law, such practices are punished by being sent to a work camp or put to death," Gilbert announced. "As a nation, practically one whom Ivan invited here, that's not an option. That doesn't mean Ivan has no way of punishing us, I wonder if Estonia warned you what might happen?"
"Whatever you're planning," Raul snarled, "Ivan isn't around, he won't forgive you if you hurt any of the nations!"
"If I am the one hurting the others, of course Ivan won't forgive me." Gilbert tsked, "That's why, I'm going to pass the responsibility to someone Ivan won't harm."
!
The screams emitting behind those closed doors were pained and pitiful. Alfred squeezed his eyes shut and gashed his teeth, wanting to go in there and pull a rescue, to be a hero, but he himself was restrained. Gilbert was standing beside him, one hand resting on his shoulder and warning him to keep still. Raul and the recently returned Matthew stood on his other side, identical looks of pain and grief on their faces as they stared at the doors.
At a particularly painful cry, Matthew's eyes glisten and he turned to look at the nation standing furthest from them, "Katyusha, I beg you please, help Estela. Mexcio is already in enough trouble, she would not recover under such an onslaught."
The woman looked away, feeling the imploring eyes of the new satellite nations but unable to do anything. It had always been like this, the satellite states all think that because she was Ivan's sister she could help them, but her power was close to nonexistent. She had none of the fear her sister Natasha inspired or the control Gilbert wield. "I'm sorry, Canada, but Natasha never forgives those who defy brother. Gilbert knows this too, it's not the first time he has sent potential rivals to be dealt with by her."
"Estela's condition is weak, she is in no position to defy or even defend herself, why would Gilbert and Natasha do this to her?"
"She is another nation, if she wins brother's favour the others fear she would take advantage of them. To them, they are eliminating a potential rival and threat."
"But this whole case…Estela never did drugs, and why would she risk it now when coming to the Soviet Union? This isn't right!"
"Let's be honest, in the warring state her country is in, almost all crimes have soared to new heights. She would reflect her country no matter what."
What else could the nations say to that? Nothing, and so the new soviets could only listen helplessly as the screams and cries continued. When they finally stopped, it seemed like an eternity had passed. The doors opened and two guards came out, dragging a limp and bloody body.
"Estela!" Cuba and Canada immediately ran forward as the guards dumped the weak body to the floor. Gilbert finally released Alfred, allowing the nation to dash in and gather Mexico's broken form. The Prussian's expression had become blank, taking neither joy nor sorrow at the sight before him. He looked over at Katyusha's side and saw Russia's sister silently cry.
Mexico's body was carefully tended to, Alfred brought her back to her room while Matthew and Raul tried nursing her. She had screamed herself hoarse, but luckily the nations were familiar enough with each other to understand her gestures, weak as they were. It tore into their hearts, they knew Mexico was already suffering, but standing right by the door unable to help defend her from another nation was another slap to how things have changed.
"I'm sorry, Estela," Alfred whispered as he sat be her bedside, stroking her hair. "I couldn't stop them, I tried, believe me I tried." And I failed was the obvious sentence hanging in the air. Estela's only response was to cough violently, and when Alfred touched her forehead he paled. "You're running a high fever!"
Besides Alfred, Raul stood up. It had been years since America and Cuba had sat by each other without violence breaking out, but there was nothing to celebrate about. "I'll bring you some more of the medicine." He made to run, but Estela grabbed his hand.
"Don't…don't bother, we both know…it would not help."
"If you don't take any medication, these wounds…"
"We all know…these wounds…they are not the only thing destroying me," the words almost caught in Estela's throat, but she had to say them. They had been denying reality for too long, try as they may, Mexico would never completely recover. Estela could feel the divisions in her country, the calls for new nations to be born, and it would not be just certain regions declaring themselves independent.
"I am starting to forget," Estela felt the tears prickling at her eyes. "There are voices in my head now, always fighting each other, and I can no longer contain them. I can no longer tell who is my leader, who is an ally, who a foe. The people are calling themselves many different names, they are no longer calling themselves my children. These years of fighting, under so many different and new flags, I am starting to forget my own."
"Estela…"
"I am forgetting," Estela sobbed. "My people are starting to forget me, and unlike Prussia my people are too busy fighting to try and preserve my memory. Soon the name Mexico would only be a footnote in history books, and Estela of Mexico…completely forgotten."
"No," Alfred shook his head, trying to grasp onto hope, trying to be the idealist, but it was useless. Estela was going to die, Alfred knew it, they all knew it. Even as Alfred spoke, his body was shaking, "No, no they won't forget…"
"My people are all singing and writing different songs now," Estela's voice was getting softer, weaker. "No longer are they united under one, no longer will they stand together. What…what was my national song? The lyrics of my beloved anthem…they all used to sing it and now…no one remembers it."
"Not true," Raul shook his head, trying to clear his increasingly blurry vision. "I've heard you sing it before, I remember it. Let me remind you, the words, the music, what you used to sing for the world to hear."
And though Estela could hardly move now, the three nations saw the gratefulness in her eyes. Raul took one of her hands, Matthew took the other and Alfred pulled her up so he could embrace her. Estela's body was limp, and she could only rest her head on Alfred's shoulder, listening as they began to sing.
Mexicanos, al grito de guerra,
el acero aprestad y el bridón.
Y retiemble en sus centros la Tierra,
al sonoro rugir del cañón…
A smile had gradually appear on Estela's face as they sang, but as the song progressed it seemed she was too weak to keep it in place. As the words to her song faded away, so did the little strength she had. The smile disappeared, and her eyes closed at the final note. Her body slackened, becoming still.
None of the nations could hold her as she began to crumble. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, Estela's body disintegrated completely. Try as they may to catch something, anything, from her they couldn't, and the body eventually turned into nothingness. Not a speck of dust remained, no trace of a body ever being there, no sign of a being named Estela of Mexico ever existing.
The finality of what had happened hit them, and the three nations broke down. Mexico would not be coming back, unlike Prussia her people were not even trying to preserve her memory, too busy fighting and killing each other. A no man's land would not have a personification running around. Estela of Mexico was truly dead to the world, and even if the name of the country survived in history books, Estela would never be remembered.
This was the world they lived in now, there may be no battlefield, but it was still war, a place where everyone schemed to destroy each other without provocation. They feared Ivan, but they feared each other more, and would stop at nothing to make sure they could 'defend' themselves and eliminate all possible threats.
Through the haze of tears and grief, in direct defiance of Soviet rules, Alfred prayed. If Estela was able to wake up in some other world, he prayed that the world would be a happier place for her. She deserved nothing less. Raul and Matthew followed his example, whispering in their own languages of Spanish and French. Finishing before they did, Alfred looked up.
Estela had always thought that the Americas should get along, and before being sent to Soviet territory Alfred's boss had hinted to him to make allies. Alfred wasn't stupid, he knew how much the other two resented or even hated him at times, perhaps now, in the changing political reality, it truly was time for a change. For Estela they could work together, and they should continue.
But Alfred felt the doubt; he knew he was suspicious of the Communist Cuba and Left wing Canada. Just because he was willing to change for the better meant nothing, he knew he was wary of the other two changing for the worse.
(1) I'm trying to avoid creating too many OCs, hence North and South Korea will be just split personality
(2) I need a common name for Vietnam since Hetalia hasn't given her one yet, any suggestions?
(3) Cuba being named 'Raul' is from Fireymoonlight's AU story "Chasing Vampires"
(4) The beginnings of the organization we now know as the European Union
(5) Denmark being named 'Mikkel' is from Tatterdemalion's AU story "Into the Face of the Beguiled"
(6) Finland lost the Winter War with Russia and had to give up some territory, in this AU Finland's completely taken
The bitter irony here is that, for those of you who don't know Mexico's national anthem, is that it called for unity and was also known to be summoning them in times of war. In a separate note, Canada's national anthem called for a 'True North Strong and Free', hence Matthew's decision to join Denmark's secret arctic council.
If you read the whole chapter, what do you think? Have any name recommendations? Want to side with a certain character? Interested in how Ivan and the other Baltics would soon play in? Have a suggestion? Tell me your thoughts in those lovely reviews!