Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia obviously; all these characters were created by the magical, marvellous Hidekaz Himaruya.
Characters: Russia, femLatvia, Lithuania, Estonia, Ukraine, Poland, Belarus, and cameos from others
Genre: Lord if I know, humour/angst/drama – is there a genre for idiocy?
Setting: Soviet Russia 1950s-1980s (may jump backwards and forwards a bit), Russia's house in Leningrad (now St Petersburg)
Authors Note: This story probably will not be in chronological order. It may not even be in any order. Each chapter will be literally a day in the life of... so can be read as a series of one-shots. Don't expect much historical accuracy – if there is any it's purely coincidental. Please be patient as I'm probably writing the sequel to Baltics Secrets (Revelations) at the same time (sigh).
This is a prequel to the Baltics Secrets. What really goes on in Soviet Russia's household? Is it all bullying, torture, intimidation and abuse? Or lost kittens, floral curtains, random parties, viagara and cross-dressing. Can female Latvia keep her secret (of course if you've read the other stories you know she can) but how does she stay one step ahead of her boss? Join the Baltics in their everyday life living under Russian rule. May contain scenes with unresolved sexual tension. Not for the faint-hearted. Angst/fluff (flangst?)/hurt-comfort and as usual some crack because even when I'm trying to be all angsty I can't resist a bit of humour. Later chapters may go up to 'M'.
Chapter 1 – Monster
It was very early morning in Russia's household. The sun was just rising as the three Baltics sat around the kitchen table in various states of consciousness. Lithuania poured another mug of black coffee and yawned. The bags under his eyes would have invoked an extra surcharge for baggage allowance were he to catch a flight that day. Estonia slumped in his chair, his eyes barely open. Latvia was face down on the table and snoring softly.
"That was a rough night," Estonia yawned.
"Just a bit," Lithuania agreed and rubbed the tender muscles of his neck with one hand and then stretched his back and winced, "I'm going to be black and blue, I just know it."
Latvia slowly lifted her head and said, fearfully, "Where is he now?"
"Still down in the basement," Estonia answered, shuddering.
"Perhaps one of us should take him some coffee?" Lithuania said.
The other two Baltics looked at Toris as if he'd grown another head.
"Please don't make me go back down there," Latvia whined.
"Pull yourself together," Lithuania said.
"Don't tell me to man up, Toris. I'm trying my best," Latvia squeaked, and then adjusted the baggy uniform around her small breasts, ensured they were still inconspicuous and blew out her cheeks, "I hate it here. I can't take any more nights like that one."
"None of us can," Estonia said, the dark circles looked like bruises under his eyes.
Twelve hours earlier...
It had been an average sort of day in Russia's household. No electrical appliances had met their doom and Russia had not kolkolled once.
Estonia had spent much of the day doing paperwork. Lithuania had cooked dinner. Latvia – whose duties were supposed to be laundry and cleaning – had given the books in Russia's library a desultory flick with a duster before hiding behind the floor-length curtains and reading a huge tome on Russian history. (At first she'd picked up a book on Russian geography, had blushed furiously at the maps and the descriptions – Russia is the largest country in the world, covering more than one eighth of the Earth's inhabited land area. However, she giggled at one line – Russia is the number one natural gas producer. 'Damn true,' she thought, 'particularly when they'd had peas for supper'.)
Things did not really kick off, drama-wise, until after dinner when Russia, who usually fell sound asleep on the couch in the living room with an empty vodka bottle held limply in his hand, was this evening sat growling in said living room glaring at the flickering television screen.
The three Baltics held a post-mortem after these events on what could possibly have gone wrong. Who had left the television on? Who hadn't supervised the television channels? Why was a war documentary allowed to be transmitted into Russia's living room?
What happened next was obvious. Lithuania walked in and watched in horror as one of the Baltics' rules was well and truly broken to smithereens (Golden Rule Number One – Never Let a War Documentary be shown on the TV). Before Lithuania could hit the off button (it would have been too late anyway) Russia had leapt to his feet. "They're coming," he said in a horrid, quiet voice and then he pointed to the television at a fuzzy black and white newsreel showing German soldiers advancing into the Motherland. His usually wide, cheerful childish grin was replaced with a serious look of horror and barely contained rage.
Russia dropped his vodka bottle (a sure sign he meant business) and slammed a large fist into the television screen.
Toris shook his head, "No, Sir. They're not... it's not..." he protested.
But Russia did not listen. A purple haze hung around his shoulders and his violet eyes were wild, the pupils dilated. He strode through to the front door and flung it open, almost taking it off its hinges. He stood looking out over the city.
Traffic noise, the sounds and smells of Leningrad assailed him. But Russia was oblivious. He was back in 1941 and his beloved city was about to be assailed by the enemy. He threw the door shut with a huge slam that shook the house and began pacing the hallway.
"Sir, it's not real. It's 1977. You're not there. You're here..." Toris tried to bring him back to the present.
Russia wasn't listening. He suddenly stopped pacing and ran down into the basement.
Lithuania ran into the study, "Eduard, code red!" he said.
"What? What do you mean?" Estonia said, but realisation dawned as Russia stormed in with hammer, nails and a Kalishnikov rifle over his shoulder and started nailing the windows shut.
Estonia pointed at Russia and mouthed at Lithuania, "Who mentioned the war?"
"TV," Lithuania mouthed back.
Estonia shook his head. If it were up to him the television would be thrown outside. As it happened no-one would be watching anything for a while anyway.
Russia waved his 'Kalash' at them, "Help me, before the bombing starts," he said.
Both men exchanged glances. It was easier just to go along with it. Don't argue, don't protest, it would only worsen the situation. Wait it out. They'd done this so many times. So with reluctance they helped Russia board up the majority of the windows and haul sandbags in from the garden shed and laid them under the doors and against the windows.
"Vodka?" Estonia said hopefully. "Pills? Has he taken his meds?" he asked Lithuania as Russia stormed off in agitation, swearing and cussing in Russian.
"I don't know..." Lithuania sighed. He was as fed up of this as Estonia. The medication often made Russia drowsy but at least they calmed his moods and kept him 'there' in the present. However, due to Russia's eleven time zones, he could fall asleep at anytime and anywhere. Many times they'd found him curled up on the doorstep wrapped in his Red Army greatcoat in the middle of the afternoon. And he only took his medication when he remembered to take it. His memory was fragile at the best of times.
"Where's Raivis?" Lithuania said suddenly. Estonia shook his head, he hadn't seen her since earlier that day – no doubt doing as little housework as possible.
They soon found out. There was a squeal and yell which was punctuated by a much deeper growl.
"Eeek! Mr Russia! Put me down!" came Latvia's voice from a far-off room.
"Latviaaaaa!" Estonia and Lithuania shouted in unison.
Russia had the smallest Baltic slung over his shoulder, holding her steady with one hand, his other hand holding his rifle. He motioned to Lithuania and Estonia to follow him down into the basement.
Estonia made a break for it, got to the kitchen, scooped up bottles of vodka, provisions of chocolate and a pack of playing cards and re-emerged as he heard Russia's voice shouting, "Estonia! Get down here now!"
'Damn the big bloody idiot,' Estonia thought and, dragging his heels, followed his boss (Latvia still over the Russian's shoulder looking both extremely annoyed and frightened) and Lithuania down into the depths of the basement.
Russia's basement was a cold, dank affair. A bundle of army blankets was in one corner, along with boxes of ammunition, rifles, tins of provisions (predominantly some sort of meat and beans), cans of drinking water and a first aid box. There was no natural light, the only light coming from a single bare 60 watt bulb and the concrete floor was cold and hard. Latvia slipped off Russia's shoulder and sank down against the brick wall, hugging her knees. Lithuania pulled a torch out of the box and switched it on.
"The electricity hasn't gone out," Russia said quietly, cocking his head, "They haven't hit the cables yet."
Estonia shook his head and plonked himself next to Latvia.
"Don't humour him," Estonia whispered to Lithuania. Toris ignored him, pulled out some blankets and handed them to his fellow Baltics.
Russia shut the door and began piling sandbags against it. Satisfied that the door was suitably reinforced, he sat with his back to it and lit a cigarette, his rifle on the floor next to him. "I'll protect you, my little Baltics," he said quietly.
The 'little Baltics' all sighed. Estonia took out a pack of cards and started dealing a hand of poker. Lithuania lit a cigarette, Latvia trembled and huddled under her blanket.
"I will protect all Russians," Russia said, taking a swig of vodka and then he visibly winced as an imaginary bomb exploded over thirty years before, "... and all those people who aren't Russian yet," he added ominously.
Estonia ignored him, hoping against hope that Russia would soon be asleep and they could get out. He dealt himself a royal flush and swept up his winnings (chocolate buttons) from Lithuania who was too distracted watching Russia, and Latvia, who was clearly too scared to really take any notice.
"A game of Monopoly?" Estonia asked.
"A capitalist pig's game," Russia said.
"Cluedo? Snakes and ladders?" Estonia thought furiously, he was damned if he was going to just sit there shivering whilst Russia blocked the door all night, still stuck in 1941.
Lithuania shook his head at him.
Russia held his head in his hands and shook as his fractured mind went back several decades and he heard the bombs exploding, screams of fear, the dying around him. He curled up in a foetal position, his broad back against the door, held his vodka bottle against his chest and tried to shut out the 'noise', his hands over his ears.
"Okay, a game of chess anyone?" Estonia asked, rooting around in the box of games he'd brought down many years before. He learned from experience that spending anything up to twelve hours in this grotty, damp, cold basement with nothing to do but stare at your feet and contemplate your eternal life would be a sure-fire short-cut to insanity and they'd all be joining their mad boss on a one-way train to Nutsville.
Lithuania again shook his head at him. "Have a heart, Ed," he told him.
All three Baltics jumped as Russia got to his feet and swayed dangerously, his head cocked on one side, "They're coming," he said flatly.
Latvia could feel goosebumps rising on her arms and the back of her neck prickled uncomfortably. She felt herself straining to hear for the bombs and the sound of soldiers and looked to Lithuania. The elder Baltic gently placed a hand on her arm.
Russia slid the safety catch off the rifle and faced the door for whatever he thought was going to come through it.
It is doubtful if anything could get past Russia were it to get through the door, but evidently Russia did think something or someone was going to get in. He stood swaying on his feet – the bottle of vodka finally having some effect (to Estonia and Lithuania's relief), his head to one side, breathing heavily and muttering about the 'German oppressor'. He trembled again, his body shivering as, evidently the bombs fell closer.
Raivis also shivered, her eyes wide like large pools as she watched Russia.
"I'm scared," she whispered, to no-one really and she didn't really know why she was scared. There were no bombs or soldiers – only those raging through Russia's splintered memories.
Russia turned from the door at the sound of her voice, his eyes had a weird faraway look, the knuckles white where he gripped his rifle. He drew out the faucet pipe from his coat with his other hand and gripped it, "Who said that?" he whispered.
"Me," Latvia squeaked, she drew herself further against the wall, her back pressed against it until she almost disappeared into the bricks (but of course she didn't...).
Lithuania got to his feet and stood protectively in front of her. Had Russia realised Latvia was a girl? He wasn't sure, but he was prepared to defend her. Russia's mental state at that moment was delicate and Lithuania wasn't sure what the big Russian's intentions would be.
Russia shoved Lithuania out of the way, and the smaller Nation hit the wall like a small bird.
"Sir!" Lithuania protested, rubbing his back.
Russia mumbled something almost akin to an apology and shuffled down next to Latvia, pushing Estonia out of the way.
He set down his rifle and put a protective arm around the smaller Nation, "Don't worry, little Raivis, I will protect you."
"Sir, she's..." Lithuania stopped suddenly, realising with utter horror the error he'd made.
Estonia looked up in shock, as did Latvia, her head under Russia's armpit.
"I know he looks and sounds like a girl, Toris. But there is no need to be rude," Russia said, glaring at Lithuania.
All three Baltics let out a collective breath of relief. Well, all but one, Latvia was being hugged so tightly she could barely exhale.
"Sir," she squeaked, "You're squeezing me."
Russia loosened his hold on her. The rifle at his feet, the faucet pipe in his other hand, he held Raivis at his side but glared at Toris. "You are a bully to Raivis," he told the Lithuanian.
Toris shook his head and sat down against the opposite wall with a blanket over his head, perhaps if he went to sleep they would all be gone and everything would be back to normal – or whatever constituted 'normal' in the madness of Russia's household. He finally laid down on the cold concrete floor and day-dreamed of his best friend, Feliks and running in golden fields of wheat and barley.
Estonia began a game of solitaire, occasionally casting glances at Toris and then at Russia.
Latvia felt almost safe and strangely warm pressed against Russia's side. However, she didn't dare move and she felt Russia tremble, his muscles tensing every so often as he strained to hear explosions and gunfire - his own cracked memories or the remembrances of his people long dead, it was unsure. She kept her knees pulled up against her chest, her arms wrapped around them and hoped to God his hand didn't wander from around her shoulders. Gradually she slipped into a kind of doze.
A few minutes or hours went by, it was hard to tell, and then Russia suddenly said, his voice sounding harsh and broken, "I need to go out. I need to help all those people. Women and children are dying..."
Latvia's eyes snapped open and Lithuania jerked his head up in horror.
Although it would mean they would be free, Russia, in his current state of mind with a Kalishnikov, could do untold damage on the streets of Leningrad.
Russia started to get to his feet. Latvia took a deep breath and, urged on by wordless nods from Lithuania, said shakily, "Please, Mr Russia, stay here. Stay with us. We're all scared."
"But my people..." Russia started to say.
Estonia shook his head, "They're not dying, Sir," he said, his patience finally over-riding his fear.
"They are... I can hear them," Russia's eyes were full of untold sadness and he gripped his faucet pipe.
Latvia's heart clenched for him. But they couldn't let him go. She gently placed a hand on his arm.
Lithuania said softly, "Wait until the bombing stops, Sir. Then we'll all go out and help whoever's around."
Russia considered this, "I'm not a coward, Toris."
"No-one is saying you are, Sir," Toris said carefully. His boss was many things – childish, petty, manipulative (particularly around the Western Nations), sometimes bullying, intimidating, capable of acts of great kindness and gentleness, weirdly protective and possessive, more than completely deranged but never ever a coward (unless Belarus was in full 'marry me' mode).
Russia pulled Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia (the latter pulled right into his chest) into a huge bear-hug. "I love my Baltics," he hummed and then his body shook again as another bomb exploded in his head.
It was many hours before Russia finally collapsed with exhaustion. After pacing to and fro, occasionally swigging from a bottle of vodka and waving 'Mr Pipe' around and then alternating this with hugging Latvia and sometimes Lithuania to his chest, he finally curled up like a huge dog and started snoring – the sound reverberating around the cellar.
The three Baltics waited a few minutes, hardly daring to move, just to make sure he was sound asleep and then made a run for the door. They scrambled to move the sandbags and pulled the basement door open. As a blast of cold, fresh air assailed them, Latvia turned back and before her brain could scream 'no' at her, she scurried back, took a blanket and gently wrapped it around Russia's shoulders.
Estonia and Lithuania froze in horror in the doorway as Russia's snoring halted and then the big Russian snuggled down, his breathing steadied and they relaxed.
Latvia paused looking down at her sleeping boss and was about to say something before Lithuania hauled her away by the scruff of the neck, and practically carried her up the cellar steps.
Another day in the life of the Baltics...
Author's Notes: The Siege of Leningrad started in September 1941 and was not lifted until January 1944, although the Soviets did manage to make a land corridor and relieve the stricken citizens some time in January 1943.
Kalash – Russian slang term for a Kalishnikov rifle – however they weren't introduced into the Red Army until the 1950s.
I don't claim to be an expert on post-traumatic stress disorder – but I reckon that's what Russia suffers from as well as other unidentified mental problems (memory loss etc).
Another slice of life in Russia's household next week (if anyone wants it?)
Reviews/comments welcome.