HOLY SHITE THAT IS A LONG ASS CHAPTER. DAMNNNN….Enjoy~ I finally have the story down right, and I hope it makes some sense.

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Prussia scanned the contract over, smiling. He had gotten what he wanted, someone to do his boring work and more land, which of course meant more power. He was going to be the biggest and most awesome country in the whole world, and no one would be able to stop it from happening.

He put the paper down and signed it, handing it back to the silver-blonde haired man across the table. The man smiled as well, a dangerous glint that matched Prussia's own in his eyes. The man looked over it, purple orbs searching for any mistakes.

Since there were none, he simply got up and left the room, closing his study door behind him. Gilbert made a "Pfchhh" sound, glaring at the door.

"RUDE!" he yelled childishly, getting up and looking around. When he found the front door, he walked out it, earning a gust of bitterly cold air. He glared at the white landscape like it was its entire fault the man was rude and that the Prussian was pissy. He had always hated snow. A below zero wind hit his face, biting into his pale cheeks, making them bright red. Climbing into his car, he blasted the heat, breathing a sigh of relief.

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He woke up, hands flying up to clutch his head in his hands. It felt like it was going to split in half. Grinding his teeth to keep from screaming, he got up, going to the bathroom, looking desperately for some kind of pain killer.

Of course there wasn't any, because Germany found it wasn't safe to keep medicine in the same house as Prussia. So, instead, he went into his office, pulling out a green binded book.

Opening it up, he smiled, pulling out the bag of white powder from the square hole in the middle. He ripped a page out of the part of the book that wasn't cut, rolling it into a tube. He sprinkled some in the paper, then quickly snorted it, making his nose burn.

Suddenly, though, he was filled with euphoria, as if he was floating on air. He closed his eyes, falling into his desk chair. He let his head roll back, mouth hung open in a silent moan. He felt the drug coursing through his system, felt it take claim on his brain, making the excruciating pain in his head disappear, as if it was a fly he could just bat away. He felt the layers of pain and stress melt away like butter, a relaxed and tranquil sensation filling him.

He heard a knock on the door, sounding like it was underwater. His brain put a kaleidoscope-like lens over everything, and he saw his brother come in the room through a million colors.

"Gilbert? Are you okay?" The man asked, also sounding like he was underwater. Prussia giggled, his crimson eyes half-lidded with a drug-induced haze.

"I'm high as a kite, Lud…as a kiteeee~" He said, waving towards the sky (it was really more towards the bookshelves, but it was close.)

"DAMMIT GIL! Why do you do this?" Germany growled, his face turning a shade of red. Gilbert raised a white eyebrow.

"Maybe cause I have no respect for myself or anyone around me? Cause I have a problem with authority?" He smirked, once again falling into a daze. He heard Germany groan and walk out of the room, probably to go hit his head against a wall.

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When his high was over and he had crashed, Prussia walked red nosed and bleary eyed towards the kitchen, where he thought he smelled breakfast being cooked. Sure enough, Germany was standing there, cooking eggs over the stove. Germany turned around when the albino yawned; looking at him up and down, probably making sure he wasn't still high.

"Now Luddy, it's not nice to stare~" He sang, laughing. Germany frowned disapprovingly at him.

"Then why are you staring at me?"

"Well, mein bruder, I'm imagining you cooking breakfast for me in an apron ONLY" He smirked , everything about his eyes and face predatory, like he wanted to pounce on the German right then. Ludwig sighed and turned back around, hiding from Prussia the blush that had spread across his face.

Prussia stared longingly at Germany's back, eyes scanning over his broad shoulders, over his arms, long and muscled. Gilbert thought back to when the blond was a child, how he never missed a day of army training, even though Prussia always told him he should go home.

He thought of how smooth and beautiful the German's back and chest were, how it felt to run his hands over them. He remembered every single scar that marked Ludwig's body, and he knew where each one came from.

He especially remembered the one across the German's chest, stretching from his right shoulder down to the start of his ribs. Prussia thought of how it was to run his thin, scarred fingers over this one, how instead of a raised one like the rest it was like an indention in his skin, how it was the about the same color as Prussia's skin.

He thought of German's face, and immediately his mind went to those eyes. The eyes that struck Prussia from the first time he saw the child, -sitting in the middle of his army, all dead- to now. They were like chips of unforgiving ice, never to crack or melt. They seemed like they looked into his very soul, yet he could stare into them all day, if Ludwig would let him.

He thought of the defined features on Germany's tanned face, of his angular yet beautiful nose. And his lips, permanently curved down in a disapproving frown. Every time Gilbert looked at them he wanted to kiss them and never stop.

And finally the German's hair. Hair that was soft to the touch, fine and silky when let down. And lord did it look sexy when he let it down. Prussia had always liked Ludwig's hair down, his fringe almost touching his eyebrows.

He knew how it was to wrap his hands in that hair, to feel it in between his fingers. He knew what it was like to kiss those lips, to wrap his own slender arms around Germany's neck. To take the German one time after another, to make the man scream out his brother's name. He knew what it was like to feel the German arch under him, to see his hair plastered to his forehead, his face flushed bright red, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back as he screamed.

But Gilbert's favorite part was to wake up with Germany at his side, to be able to wrap his arms around his brother without feeling bad. He liked how it felt to curl into the German's chest, to feel the blonde's breath on his neck. He liked how it felt to be able to kiss the man with no regrets, to be able to let his unnatural feeling take complete control of him, and not get rejected. He liked seeing the true Germany, not to see the hard faced façade he usually portrayed.

He remembered what it was like when Germany was a small kid, how adorable he was. How every time Prussia went off to battle, the child would cry and hold onto his legs, screaming at him not to go. When he got home, the child would throw himself into Gilbert's arms.

Then he started to understand why Prussia had to leave. He began to realize the world was a bad place, and that war was how it was dealt with. So, the blond sat up all night, waiting for Prussia to get home, and when the albino did get home, he would grab the bandages and patch the Prussian back up, piece by piece, then go to bed.

But Germany grew up and everything changed. He got old, and his childish soft eyes got hard. And Prussia knew it was his fault. He had changed his brother into a cold, battle ready machine. But sometimes he saw a flash of what Germany used to be, a loving child, just wanting his brother to cling to.

It was around then that Prussia realized his feelings were more than familial feelings, that they were unnatural and wrong. But he didn't care. He started to notice the littlest things about his brother, the things that made the German who he was. Prussia started to notice how hot his brother had really become, what made him look more like a man than a kid. It wasn't just lust that drove said feelings though. It was something more. Something that made his lungs constrict and his heart swell. It was a feeling of serious, unbridled love. He couldn't help but dream of Germany every night, to wake up wishing he was right there with him. He remembered the night Germany confessed his feelings vividly. The night he found all of his dreams come true.

He was shaken awake in his sleep, a yawn passing his lips. His crimson eyes fluttered open, bleary from sleeplessness. He had bad dreams all night. When his vision cleared, his eyes settled on his brothers face. The man had an embarrassed blush on his face, his bashful look making Prussia want to squee.

"Bruder?" He asked, keeping the excitement out of his voice.

"Ahm…I just...i wanted to tell you that…well…" The man suddenly kissed him, lips locking into Prussia's perfectly. He opened his mouth, parted in a silent plea for more. And he got it, a deepened kiss. When they pulled away, he felt Germany's breath on his face, the sweet smell of something he didn't know filling his senses. He felt his predatory instincts take over, crawling on top of Germany with a satisfied look on his face. Both had a deep blush covering their cheeks, breath coming out in short hot puffs. The lust turned Prussia's eyes a darker red than ever, while Germany looked younger, scared of what would happen.

"Prussia?"

"Ja?"

"I…I love you" He sighed, turning his head the other way. "Just…go easy?" Prussia smirked, sharp incisors showing beneath lips pale from kissing. Slipping his shirt off, he felt a euphoria-induced fog cover his mind.

When they had woken up, Germany got up, wincing. Prussia smirked happily, stretching. He noticed the bruises surrounding Germany's wrists, the ones that ran down his chest and neck. He looked down, seeing that he, too, had such bruises.

"I thought I said easy!" The German growled, rubbing his back.

"That WAS easy, West." A 'kesesese' rang through the room. Ludwig sat back down, wrapping his arms around his brother.

"Gil, I love you. I love you so much." He said, his face turning red.

"West….I…I love you too." He replied, feeling his heart swell in his chest. He felt like he couldn't breathe. His brother had confessed to him. Feelings he had held back for years were finally put out on the table, and it was wonderful.

Germany was the only one Prussia had ever felt that way about, the only one he really wanted to hold. And he would be happy, just being able to hold the German in his arms forever. He felt his heart wrench every time he got pushed away, mostly because he knew that Ludwig would let him do it if he were alone. This was because the blond was scared and disgusted by his own emotions, and Prussia knew it. Yet he didn't care. He couldn't help himself, or stop himself. He sat back in his chair, eyes closed, feeling the regret echo on his features.

"Gilbo? Are you okay?" Germany's voice popped into his memories, bringing him back out from his dream world.

"I'm fine, Lud. I was just daydreaming." He said, sitting up straight in his chair.

"Good. Want some eggs?" Ludwig asked, yawning. Prussia felt a pink tinge set to his face as he nodded. He shouldn't have been thinking those things, he told himself. Germany raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Suddenly Prussia jumped up, grabbing his brother's uniform collar and pushing him against the wall.

"P-Prussia? What're you doing?" The blond asked, eyes wide and innocent.

"Well, mein bruder, I've been thinking a lot, and frankly, I want you." He said, kissing Ludwig's neck. The German gasped, his head rolling back. He was surprised, yes, but it wasn't like he didn't like it. Gilbert trailed down Germany's neck, unbuttoning his uniform's top. His brother's hands wrapped around his arms, tightening with each hickey left. He let out a guttural moan, pushing Prussia away.

"Gil. No. Please, no." He pushed past the Prussian, glowering at the ground. Prussia looked flabbergasted after him. Silently he walked to his room, throwing himself down on his bed. He couldn't believe it. He had gotten rejected, in his own home. He took a shaky breath, feeling his lungs expand and contract. Slowly he got back up, feeling the need to get some air.

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He walked through the city of Königsberg, looking around at the building, the people, the town. He loved this town. It was his favorite one. Usually people would smile and wave at you, telling you to have a good day and enjoy the rest of it. Yet he saw no one doing so…

Then he noticed something. There was something…off. He heard it suddenly. The people…they were all speaking Russian. Russian? He looked around again, really looking. This time he saw it. He saw the change. Everything around him was different in small ways. It seemed so hostile, he realized. Everyone seemed so reserved.

Then he saw him. The man he made the deal with. He was laughing, a person, beaten to a bloody lump, resting under his black boot, pleading desperately in his native language. Prussia rushed over to the man, tackling him, his complex for looking out for his own taking over. He growled and rolled around till the man was on the ground, Prussia sitting on top of his chest. It seemed like slow motion as he brought his fists down on the man's face repeatedly, hearing the satisfying crack of some bone. He felt the skin of a cheek bruise and break under his fists, turning his knuckles crimson as his eyes. He got up, bringing his own booted foot down into the man's ribs, kicking as hard as he could.

He stopped as someone pulled him off, yelling harshly in his ear. He growled at the man, lunging once again but feeling a pair of hands pulling him back. He saw the man get up, wiping blood from his mouth, smirking at Gilbert, pissing the albino off more.

"Well, precious, looks like I will have to break you." He said simply, getting up, grabbing Prussia by his wrists and knocking him down in the snow, face down. He felt his face get cold and numb, felt the cold bite into the skin and turn it a blistering red. He screamed, not that it helped, because it was muffled by the snow as well. He felt the nerves in his face slowly dying, taking all feeling with them. And then all to suddenly he was pulled up from the snow, given a fresh breath of air. He heard a low, delighted chuckle in his ear, and he growled, his lip curling up.

He wretched his hand away, running in the opposite direction. Before he knew it he was in Berlin, cold buildings rising above his head like omniscient tomb stones. He looked around, breathing the not-so-fresh city air. His breath came out in aggravated puffs. He started to realize that maybe he had made a mistake.

He felt a shiver rack his body, a curious thing, since he never shivered. Then suddenly they turned into tremors, causing him to fall to his knees. He felt his muscles in his body tighten, like taught cords. His headache flared up again, worse than before.. His shut eyes shut tighter, and the tremors got worse, making him shake visibly.

A scream ripped through his lips, though it didn't sound like he did it. It sounded far away, like he was floating above the noise. His muscles and bones contracted involuntarily, and he felt himself curl into a ball, his face against the pavement of the street.

Suddenly someone was holding him, carrying him from the street. He couldn't see anything, the agony making his vision blurred and white. All he could do was feel something soft, probably the seat of a car, under his cheek, and feel the pain rattling through his body.

He coughed violently, red liquid splattering all over everything. He felt wetness on his own face, probably a mixture of blood, sweat, and tears.

The metallic taste of the crimson liquid burned in his mouth, and he could feel it running from his nose across him slips. He coughed again, even though his body protested. His head was pounding, and it felt like it wasn't big enough to hold his brain, like it did when he was hung over. Another scream ripped through his already raw throat, and white hot pain exploded behind his irises.

He called out a single word before he passed out, the one person who he wanted, no, needed to see before he died. "West…"

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His eyes opened slowly, feeling like they were glued shut. He desperately tried to push himself up, but his arms wobbled out from under him, and he fell back into the bed. His head was still pounding, and it felt like it was full of…something. His body felt weak, useless and painful. He could smell and taste the blood on himself, in his mouth. He was still blinded, to his dismay. He felt naked and vulnerable when all his senses were weak.

A sound entered his thoughts, distant but loud.

"Mr. Prussia? Are you awake?" A shaky but motherly voice asked, making him almost feel warm and fuzzy; but only Germany could do that.

"Ngggh!" He tried to say something, but even the sound was hard to make, feeling gravely in his throat.

"I guess that's a yes? Here, drink this." The person said, pushing a cup with a sweet smelling liquid in his hands. He took a sniff of it, and was remended of when he got home from a battle, Germany used to make him tea with honey. He gave in and drank the tea, feeling the honey instantly go to work on his throat, the tea soothing his nerves.

Expirementally, he made a sound, trying to get him mouth to work.

"Hnnnn...Where?" he said, and suddenly his throat hurt again. The someone put a hand on his shoulder, which he shook away.

"Don't try to talk, okay?" The same person said, and he felt them wash his face in warm water.

"I know it's gonna hurt, but bear with me, okay? He beat you up pretty bad…looks like your bleeding under your shirt, I'm going to have to take it off, okay?" he felt his shirt being removed from him, the cold air of the room prickling his skin. He sighed as he felt hands on his chest.

He ground his teeth as the person poked and prodded his ribs, at all his injuries. Slowly they pressed on his ribs, trying to find the broken ones. When he found them, he gasped, wincing.

"Sorry!" The person said, pulling their hands away. They wrapped bandages across his shoulder and around his chest, whispering something in a different language. He felt a soft pat on his shoulder, then they left.

Later he was woken up by the sound of people arguing. His eyes opened, and he was bet by a flood of color. The first one he saw was purple. Purple eyes stared down at him, and he screamed. The eyes brightened happily.

"You are awake, pet?" The person said bouncily. Gilbert felt his lip curl, making his face hurt, since said lip was busted. He saw a brown haired man lean over him, checking his bandages.

"Mr. Prussia, are you alright?"

"I can see…" he breathed, his voice sounding sandy in his raw throat. The man smiled, nodding.

"That's good! You're still pretty bad, but you'll get better." Prussia nodded, his bones feeling stiff.

"Where a-"

"Enough with the questions." The purpled-eyed man growled, glaring at the brown-haired man. He suddenly remembered his brother, shooting out of the bed, despite his injuries.

"West?" he called, hoping his brother would call back. The purple-eyed man held him down, and it seemed like there was static in between their skin. He flinched away, glaring back at the man.

"Mr. Russia? He's bleeding!" The brown-haired man said, pushing past the purple-eyed man, Russia, and grabbed a roll of bandages. Prussia looked own to see that blood was soaking the gauze wrapped around his body. The man re-wrapped his bandages, making them tighter than before.

"Who are you?" Prussia asked lamely, eyebrows knitted from the pain.

"I'm Lithuania. You can call me Toris." He said, then left, leaving only Russia in the room with him. Gilbert glared at the man, feeling sour venom rise in his throat, ready to make his threats more spiteful than normal. But all he could get out was a single question.

"Where's West?" The Russian man laughed, a dark, evil sound not usually associated with the word.

"Your brother does not know where you are, Prussia. You should count your blessings, because you will need them here." And with that he left as well, leaving Prussia alone in the room.

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Gilbert got a few more hours of sleep before waking up, still groggy. When he finally zoned in, he felt a sudden sickness, and he pulled himself out of bed, getting himself to the bathroom, spilling his guts into the toilet bowl. He got up, his legs wobbly, and placed his hands on the sink, looking into the mirror.

Staring back was an unusually pale man, even for an albino, with whitish hair and crimson eyes. He had sweat running down his face; whether from sickness or dreams he didn't know. His lip was busted, as well as having a black eye, and gashes on his cheek and eyebrow. He washed his face quickly, and then walked straight into Toris. The man jumped, but sighed, relieved, when he saw it was Prussia.

"I see you're feeling a bit better?" he asked good naturedly, smiling. Prussia nodded weakly.

"Erm, Toris? Where am I?" He asked, looking straight at the man.

"I knew you would ask. You're in the country of Russia, and I don't think Mr. Russia will let you leave." He sighed, and left, but not without leaving Prussia a bowl of reddish soup, which Prussia gulped down eagerly. Then he slipped out of the room, looking down the hall. He walked until he found an office, which he entered silently.

He looked around, and saw that there were books on every wall, except for one. On that wall there was a desk with a tall backed chair, and close to it there was a table with a chess board built into it, complete with crystal chess pieces. He noticed that there was a phone on the desk, and instantly his hand moved towards it, ready to type in the number.

He did such, hearing it ring three times before it was answered.

"Hallo?"

"West! Thank god, West."

"Prussia? Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm in-" His answer was cut off by the ugly dial tone, startling him into dropping the phone.

"What are you doing?" He heard an accented voice behind him ask. He turned around, seeing that Russia had un-plugged the phone from the wall.

"I wasn't doing anything." He said, pushing past the taller man. The Russian grabbed his wrist, pulling him back around. He gasped, feeling pain shoot up his arm.

"Why're you doing this to me?" He screamed, yanking his arm away. He walked away pointedly, glaring at the ground. He heard an exasperated sigh behind him, like he was a dog who couldn't quite learn how to sit. He continued to walk through the house, until he came to a large living room. He went straight for the window, looking out. Everything was white. The road, the ground, the one tree in the yard, everything. He felt a shiver roll down his spine.

Silently he walked back to the room he was residing in, searching his coat for anything he could use. Everything was missing, including his cigarettes. He cursed angrily, knowing that he would be jumpy within a day or so. He sat down shakily, taking it all in. Two words came to mind. I'm screwed.

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-Two years after Gilbert was brought to Russia-

He glared at the chess board. He couldn't believe he had agreed to play. He hated chess. Hated it. Russia made his next move, capturing the Prussian's king.

"Checkmate~" He said cheerily, smiling. Prussia shrugged, frowning.

"Why do you make me play when you ALWAYS when?" He asked, getting up.

"Because I like playing with you~" The man replied, smiling. Prussia couldn't help but giggle, since he was the immature person he was. It made it even funnier, since Russia didn't get how his words had a more perverse meaning.

"I'm gonna go make some tea." He said, turning swiftly and walking into the kitchen. He'd acquired the taste for the drink, since it soothed him, reminding him of the outside world, the promise that one day he would get out of the house. He looked longingly out the window above the sink in the kitchen, almost being able to see his brother walking down the long path that lead to the front of the house, eyes hard ice blue, his fine blonde hair slicked back like he always wore it. Even after this long, he still hoped his brother would come to get him, to break him out. A sigh rolled past his lips, and he heard the tea whistle, signaling it was done. He grabbed the honey out of the fridge, adding it to his cup only, and walked back into the office, sitting on the floor by Russia's desk.

The man absentmindedly glanced down at Prussia, a smile that would almost be considered warm on his face.

"How are you, pet? I know you must miss your brother." He said, even though he knew well enough it was a touchy subject for Prussia.

"Damn right I miss him. More than anything." Prussia said, taking an angry sip of tea. Russia sighed, then grabbed his phone, dialing a number.

"Germany? I need to have a meeting with you today. No, I am not staying long. Okay. I will see you later. Bye." Prussia felt himself gasp, looking up at Russia. The Russian looked evenly back at him, lips pursed. He grabbed Prussia's arm, pulling the man up, and lead him to his room, sitting him down on the bed.

"Rules: One, you will sit still in the place I put you. Two, do not interrupt our conversation. Three, do not come in the room we are conversing in, we have things to talk about. Got it?" The man said, looking at Prussia passively.

"Ja!" Prussia nodded enthusiastically. Silently Russia got up, pointing towards Gilbert's closet.

"Change and meet me outside." With that he left, and Prussia felt himself shake with excitement, rifling through his closet for his old uniform. He put it on, feeling memories flood back to him, and ran outside.

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Sitting silently in Germany's house was like torture. All he wanted to do was run in the office and tackle his brother, to cover the man with kisses. Then there was the whole thing were Prussia wanted to take the man right there on his desk. Biting his lip, he tried to listen to their conversation, but he couldn't hear anything. He was stuck in the hall, just outside the office. If Germany had turned a fraction of an inch when he welcomed Russia into the office he would have seen Gilbert.

He hit his head against the wall, a beat expression on his face. He wished they would hurry up and get done already. This wasn't the awesome trip he thought it was going to be. It was like going on a field trip, only to learn that you were going to a museum and you would have to write an essay on what you saw.

He noticed something suddenly, and felt a pang in his chest. He was sitting across from Germany's bedroom, and for the first time he really looked in it. He saw that all pictures of his brother and him were gone, taking out of the room, replaced by pictures of the German and…Italy. He also noticed the Italian's uniform strung across the bed post, like a silent stab to the heart, mocking him.

He was thoroughly surprised is brother would have given up on him, though. It had only been two years! Prussia felt guilt, considering he would do the same thing, but still. Ludwig was nothing like him. Feeling a silent sob come from his throat, he leaned back against the wall, sliding back down to the floor, curling into a ball. His breath came out in shudders, his whole body shaking. All he wanted to do now was go back to Russia and sleep in his bed and never get up.

He heard the office door opening, and Germany asking something disbelievingly. Then heavy boot thuds echoed through the hall as the German ran around the corner, seeing his brother curled in a ball there, tears running down his red cheeks. His eyes widened, and his mouth hung open in a surprised O.

Ludwig pulled his brother into his arms, whispering words in German so quite that not even Prussia could hear them. Prussia wrapped his arms around Germany as well, his silent sobs turned to wails. Germany rocked him back and forth, still speaking in German, telling him that it was going to be okay, that everything would be alright.

Prussia lifted his head, looking deep into his brothers blue eyes. Instead of the hard eyes he remembered from the last time he saw him, he saw eyes hurt, hollow, searching for something. The eyes of the small kid he found, covered in blood, that Francis had told him he had seen. He felt like he could see the universe in those eyes, no matter how hollow they were, and he felt everything disappear around him but his brother.

Then they were kissing and nothing mattered except the warm feel of Germany's lips on his own. Everywhere their skin touched there seemed to be extra nerves, helping him feel Ludwig's warm, smooth skin. He ran his fingers through Germany's blonde hair, pulling strands out, tickling his forehead.

The passion and hunger that he felt surprised himself and Germany, but he didn't stop, pushing the German down, only stopping for a single breath of air. Germany wrapped his strong arms around his brother's neck, pulling him closer, hands intertwined in white hair.

Suddenly Prussia was pulled away, his uniform's collar constricting his air. Germany blinked, startled, and blushed, straightening his hair and uniform. Prussia looked up, to see Russia looking down at him, stone-faced.

"We will be leaving now. Good bye, Germany. I would say I hoped to see you again, but I would be lying." With that he left, dragging Prussia by his the collar. Prussia coughed as he was thrown in the back of the car, reaching for his almost indefinitely bruised neck. Russia got into the front of the car, starting it up. Prussia saw a muscle pulse in his neck. He knew that it meant…annoyance? But why would Russia be annoyed?

"Erm…Sorry about that…I…I guess you know the family secret now, huh?" He said, laughing awkwardly. Russia waved his hand, telling Prussia to be quite, and stared back at him.

"I see why you missed him so much. Tell me, Gilbo", Prussia flinched at the name, "why…why don't you…" Russia shook his head, obviously upset, and turned around, leaving Germany's house a speck in the distance.

( )( )( )( )

-Four years after Gilbert was brought to Russia-

He felt hot breath on his neck, and he shivered, feeling his lip quiver. His arms shook uncontrollably, probably from guilt and fear rather than cold. He didn't know how he felt about what he just did. Yeah, it was freaking wonderful, but what about his brother? Russia's arm around his waist was a reminder of how Germany used to hold him when they slept together, how the blond would bury his face in Prussia's hair, and Prussia would tuck his head underneath his brother's chin.

He and Russia were in the same position, having done the same act, but it wasn't the same. When he was with Germany, it felt warm and cuddly, and he didn't want to be anywhere else in the world and he felt and he felt awesome afterwards, an overwhelming love for his brother filling his heart.

Now he felt warm, yes, but he also felt cold. He would probably like to be anywhere else in the world. He felt guilty, and dirty, knowing he was probably being used.

It all started around a month ago, while Prussia was awesomely cleaning the windows (which he was forced to do). Russia had come up behind him, wrapping his arms around the Prussian. Of course, Prussia had jerked away, throwing a backward glare at Ivan. But Russia had grabbed his wrist, turning him around, pinning him against the wall.

"I have been waiting a long time to do this." He said, his forehead touching Prussia's. He pressed his lips against Prussia's experimentally, pulling away to look at Gilbert's face. Surprising himself, Prussia leaned back up to kiss him again, feeling a flood of emotions fill him. The good thing: he was enjoying every minute of it. The bad thing: all of the feelings were directed towards his brother.

This, of course, didn't stop him. He even let Russia be dominant, like Germany had been, every once in a while. While the whole thing took place, his heart was screaming out for him to stop, but his brain (and his five meters) told him to go on, to finish the whole thing. During the act, it was all he could do from calling out his brother's name. But he did let a "bruderlein" slip every once-in-a-while; thanking god Russia didn't speak his language.

He heard Russia whisper his name in his ear, and the larger man shifted in his sleep, flipping all the way around. Prussia took the chance to slip out of the bed, walking into the kitchen. He saw that Toris was already in there, and the man jumped when he saw Prussia come in. Prussia realized then that he only had his boxers on, but he shrugged. He didn't really care. He clawed through the fridge till he found milk, pouring himself a bowl of cereal.

His back and legs hurt as he sat down, feeling sore, and he felt his face reflect it. The Prussia he knew wouldn't have let himself become someone's pet, their toy, their puppet, wouldn't let emotions cross his face, because he wouldn't have had a reason to need them. But he was no longer the Prussia he knew. He felt like a knock-off of the original him. He scooped the cereal in his mouth, letting it wash away the sour taste that was already in it. He shivered. He would never ever do that again. Ever.

"Mr. Prussia?" Toris said, trying to get Prussia's attention.

"Call me Gil, please." Prussia replied, rolling his eyes. He felt old when the brunette called him ' Mr. Prussia'.

"Oh, um, well, Why are you eating cereal at one o' clock in the morning?"

"Why are you in the kitchen at one o'clock at the morning?"

"Oh…I don't know..."

"Exactly. Want some?" He asked, pushing the bowl towards the man. He grabbed it right before it fell off the table, looking surprised. Then he took a bite, pushing it back at the Prussian.

"Why do you even like that cereal? It's so…plain…" Lithuania asked, eyebrows coming together over his eyes.

"It reminds me of my brother. Plain and boring." Prussia said, laughing, a smirk covering his face, feeling right there. He hadn't laughed in a while, and it made him laugh again that he had laughed over something so small. Toris laughed as well, a smile reaching his lips.

"Now, tell me Toris. How did you wind up here?" Prussia asked, tilting his head. Toris looked startled at the question, then thought for a long moment. Finally, he answered, voice shaky.

"Well, when Poland and I were allied, we were in a war with Mr. Russia. Well, we lost. So as we lie there, in the snow, ready to die, Mr. Russia grabbed me and told me I was going to work for him, instead of dying. So I guess I'm kinda prisoner here, but it's almost like he saved me. I mean, he could have just let me die in the snow, right?" He said, biting his lip, seeming like he was trying to convince himself more than Prussia.

"I see…but…why am I here? I wasn't in a war with him! I don't owe him anything!" Prussia exclaimed, feeling the familiar feeling of injustice filling his chest. It wasn't as fun when it was directed towards him.

"No, you weren't. But your brother was. Still is. You just happen to be in the middle, and you are in a…relationship with your brother, aren't you? It gives Mr. Russia the emotional advantage" Lithuania said, his cheeks gaining a pink tinge. Prussia nodded numbly, feeling words swirl in his head.

"Don't tell him I told you…but it was also because Mr. Russia has an odd fascination with you. He likes the way you hold your head high, how independent you are, how smart and calculating you are. How you don't trust anyone, except your brother. How if you love someone, you'll go the ends of the earth to make sure their safe, but if you don't you'll screw them over threefold." He said, the words coming out of his mouth like he read them out of a book. "I've never seen him have such a…is it…a crush? He gets so frustrated when you stay away from him, how you refuse to just give yourself to him wholly, how no matter what, you stay attached to your brother. He wants more than anything for you to feel about him in the same way you feel about Germany …" He finished, his voice trailing off.

( )( )( )( )

-Twelve years after Gilbert was brought to Russia-

He snuck out of the bedroom, turning both ways, straining his ears for sounds of people awake. Everyone was asleep. He crept down the hall and stairs, checking the door. It was unlocked. He ran out into the snow, feeling it soak his pant legs.

Earlier in the day he had heard Russia talking about how people were tunneling under the wall, getting to the other side. So a plan had formed in his head, and it happened to take place that night. He had already mapped out the location of the whole that was already dug, thanking god it was close to him.

After at least an hour of running, his sides hurting like hell, he got to the wall. He saw the guards everywhere, the lights shining momentarily on every part of the wall. He silently slid to the ground, feeling around for the hole.

Sure enough, it was there, the snow caving when his hand pushed on it. He slid through the cold, used hole. He crawled for a little while, and then his head popped out on the other side. An overwhelming feeling of relief flooded him, and he finished crawling out, knowing there were no guards on the west side. He continued to run, towards Germany's house. When he got there, though, he was met by Russia, a triumphant smirk covering his face.

"Hello, pet. I see you took a trip tonight? Time to go home, da?" He said, grabbing Prussia's wrist and pulling him into the car.

Later that night, when they got home, Russia drug him to the silent room, adding to the lashes already covering his back, adding to the scars, adding to the pain and humiliation. He then brought the albino to the bathroom, cleaning the blood off of him, making Prussia take a shower with him, practically, no, absolutely molesting him in the process. The whole time the Prussian kept his eyes closed, praying for it to be over quick, begging to god to make it all end, a single tear rolling down his pale cheek. His abused lips formed one word, one desperate plea for salvation and safety. "West…."