Prayer of the Captive

Chapter One: Capture

Main Pairings: SweFin, PruUK, Spamano

Minor Pairings: RusUS

Rating: OT

Warning: Assault, violent, disturbing content

Summery: Taken captive Tino, his son, Arthur, and his son's friend, Lovino, must fight to survive. Will the detective Berwald find them in time? Or will it be too late?

Translation: fratellino stupido -stupid little brother (Italian), bastardo – bastard (Italian)

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"You'll cook when I rot in hell!" Lovino snarled. Arthur gave him a cold look with offended green eyes.

"And why, pray tell, is that?" the small blonde asked bristling just as much as his irritable brunette friend.

"Because I don't want to eat poison, you British bastardo." Lovino said with a dismissive snort. "It's bad enough with my fratellino stupidohaving strep, without dying."

"You ungratefully little urchin!" Arthur said, hissing indignantly. "I offer to spend my valuable time making a nice homemade meal and you insult me. You should be thankful!"

"I'd be more thankful if you shot me instead of forcing me through a slow, agonizing torture." the Italian snarked out quietly.

Tino chuckled to himself as his son instantly went off on the boy. Neither teenager seemed to notice the man's reaction, too absorbed in their arguing. Tino smiled fondly at them and turned away to examine the town they were in. He could honestly say he was enjoying his stay. He found Italy beautiful and the food was delicious. The only thing was he missed were his kids. He looked over his son with affectionate brown eyes.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy this bonding time with Arthur, but he missed the others. Peter was only five for pity sakes. He needed a calm steady environment. And as much as he loved and trusted Elizabeta he knew very well she wasn't the sanest member of humanity.

He knew he could have brought the children with him, but they were too young for a trip out of the country. And Arthur needed this trip. Tino stole a look at the teenager and was pleased to find his long absent smile in place. Ever since Arthur and Alfred had gotten into that fight the boy had seemed listless.

Tino wouldn't have even known what could have caused such a giant rift between his two sons if not for Matthew. Arthur had always been overprotective of his younger siblings. And not without reason, Tino's mind pointed out bitterly. Alfred was not the type that took well to any restrictions especially not from his older brother. One day Alfred had finally snapped and he'd brought up the forbidden subject. Their mother.

Tino let out a sigh and thought over Liberty Jones. He'd loved the woman during their short, intense relationship together and had been friends for years before. But he could never forgive her for the scars she'd left in his boys. Scars so deep that though he knew Alfred adored his big brother and that Arthur loved his siblings more than anything; neither had spoken to the other for three months.

Tino was at his wits end when Arthur's friend and pen pal Lovino had invited him to Italy for the summer. Tino knew instantly it would help his eldest to get out of the house and probably do Alfred some good too. Now that they were here Tino felt vindicated by his decision. Arthur was smiling and laughing and even arguing. Lovino Vargas may be snappy, irritable, and have one of the worst mouths Tino had ever heard, but he was a good influence.

Tino hoped the boys could work things out when the trip was over.

Tino jumped when his pocket started vibrating, and after a glance confirmed the boys were still close by he answered the phone.

"Before I tell you anything I want to know why you're son has such an obsession with Communists." Elizabeta said tightly. Tino groaned. She had to mean Alfred.

"What did he do?" Tino asked having a good guess already.

"First he called my son a fucking creepy commie and then he hit him." Tino wondered if Alfred was truly intent on making him have a heart attack before he was forty or if it was just a coincidence. The blonde man began twiddling with the edge of his shirt knowing that it would be worse. This was Alfred after all.

"I'm so sorry Elizabeta. How is he?" Tino questioned feeling guilty. Elizabeta sighed and when she spoke the anger that had tinged her voice was gone. Whatever others said about Elizabeta nobody could deny she was a good, though unconventional, mother.

"Ivan's fine, but Alfred had to go to the hospital." Now Elizabeta was the one sounding guilty.

"Hospital, why?" Tino questioned heart jumping in his throat.

"Ivan broke Alfred's leg when Alfred ripped his scarf." Elizabeta didn't just sounded guilty, she sounded like the same way she had in college when she'd spent all of Tino's paycheck on booze and gotten so drunk she'd looked Tino in the closet with her Belgian friend while Elizabeta proceeded to make out with some stripper named Romulus. Tino had been pretty much almost raped before the girl's brother had jumped in. The man had barely decided against finishing the job because Tino looked too mature for his tastes. It had taken two years to fully forgive her.

Elizabeta had enjoyed those few months afterwards a little too much in Tino's opinion. She saw him as wonderful hands on practice for her career as a rape therapist. That was one of the reasons it had taken so long to forgive her. Well that and the pictures she took of him and his ex-husband, then fellow law student, Roderich when they'd slept together after a rare night were Tino did drink with Elizabeta. Tino had never figured out when she'd set up the camera or why she'd desired the pictures so much, but he'd had fun throwing her laptop and back up drive off the dorm roof. Elizabeta had cried for an hour afterward about her Yaoi stories and the laptop being her only copy.

"Why would Ivan do such a thing? He's usually so calm." Tino said focusing his mind on the present and not his college days. It was true. Ivan was surprisingly mature for a boy his age. To a point that sometimes when Tino visited his old friend, Tino felt like the child when he spoke to the fifteen year old. But Tino supposed since Alfred was Ivan's age and Tino's main source of comparison, Peter would look startlingly mature.

"It was from his older sister." Elizabeta told him quietly, and Tino felt his heart go out to her. Elizabeta had adopted Ivan at nine after he'd broken into her house and tried to steal some food. Eventually she discovered that Ivan's little sister was living with a foster father in town and that was why Ivan lingered around the city. He stayed with her for three months before allowing her to file for adoption. Apparently giving him constant contact with his sister and plenty of space was enough to gain a bit of trust. Elizabeta loved the boy as fiercely as Tino loved his own children and felt inadequate knowing she was constantly being compared to Ivan's first mother figure. His older sister Yekaterina. The boy seemed to hold the girl to a god like place above others and the scarf was the one thing he had left to connect to her.

"He loves you Elizabeta. Remember that." Tino assured her knowing just how inadequate you could feel when you thought your adopted children were comparing you to their real parents. He'd gone through hell when Alfred's father, Sam, had taking a brief interest when the boy was ten. But Tino would have continued to have gone through the hell of being compared to the perfect Sam if it had made the man stop from abandoning Alfred a second time. Alfred was still getting over the scars the man's visit had left on the family's collective psyche.

"Thanks Tino." Elizabeta said quietly, with a voice so uncharacteristically sad it made Tino's heart squeeze with pain and sympathy.

"Mr. Väinämöinen there's a good resturaunt nearby if you want to go some place special. Tomorrow's your last day after all." Lovino asked interrupting Tino's conversation. Tino starred at the boy shocked, he hadn't thought Lovino knew his name. Most of the time the boy referred to others as curse words or their nationalities, most of the trip he'd just been 'Arthur's Dad' or the 'Brit's Father'. Tino supposed, feeling a little amused at the idea, this meant Lovino liked him.

"That's a great idea Lovino." Tino told the boy with a smile, causing him to blink and blush, turning away and leading them with clear embarrasment.

"Going somewhere?" Elizabeta purred seeming pleased with the change of subject. Tino allowed it knowing Elizabeta could be sensitive about this issue just like he was.

"Lovino's taking us to a restaurant to celebrate being rid of us it seems." Tino told her and checked his watch. Noting how quiet the streets were even though it was just a little past six. There was only one vehicle on the street. A white van that wasn't too far behind them going at its own languid pace. Like everyone he'd seen so far. Across the street from him Tino noticed two fellow tourists absorbed in an argument. It looked like the small blonde was winning against the larger one who looked very put out about it. He was shouting something about how he needed to buy an ax as a souvenir and that Norge was being completely unreasonable. Other than that they were completely alone. Tino chuckled to himself. It sounded like an argument his kids would have.

Behind him Tino heard the van scream as it sped up. He didn't think anything of it watching the boys playfully bicker after he and Elizabeta said their farewells and 'tell the kids I love them's. That was until the van was beside them and the side door was thrown open. Tino's body couldn't seem to catch up with his mind as he realized he was being grabbed by a strange blonde man, and a tan man had grabbed Lovino and Arthur. Only when his son cried out when the tan man twisted his arm while throwing him in the van after Tino. Tino started to struggle and scream, but it was too late. The blonde man had forced a sharp smelling rag to his face, while an albino, who'd stayed in did the same to Arthur. It had taken barely a blink of the eye, but Tino realized with a growing horror that he'd really just been kidnapped even as his body grew weak. The last thing he saw was Lovino fighting and squirming every which way biting and scratching every bit of his captor he could reach as the man tried unsuccessfully to force his own rag to Lovino's face. The last thing Tino heard was a Spainish accented voice say, "Francis, help me!" And then it was dark.