Lev stared at the Russian writing on the page, it had been 7 years since his birth and Russia was proud to see his son learning his origins.

"Japan-san what's this word" the little boy held the out to Kiku, who was cleaning the kitchen at the time. Toris stood at the sink with the dishes and cups, washing them and keeping an eye on Lev while Ivan worked.

"I do not know, Lev-sama, I do not read Russian" the Japanese man could never bring himself to look at the boy, none of the nations could. To Russia the young child was a prized possession, to the rest of them he was a painful reminder.

It had become a Taboo to look at the child, or speak his name to other nations. Lev didn't understand yet, he didn't realise that the way they treated him wasn't normal.

"Japan-san, what was Mama like?" the question was answered with the crisp sound of porcelain cracking in the metal sink, the child turned to see Toris gripping the edge of the sink tightly. Kiku gripped the handle of his broom tightly, his knuckles turned whiter than his skin.

Lev blinked large brown eyes, no matter who he asked, they all went quite and ignored the question. Grandpa Australia would start crying and his cousins would purse their lips and walk away when he asked about anyone.

They all brushed him off when he asked why Latvia had disappeared, or when America stopped existing, or why China wouldn't get out of bed. Everyone turned; his Papa would only tell him that he would be told when he was older.

Lev closed his book and climbed down from the table, going into the other room. He climbed the stairs, one by one, till he reached the first floor. A few people were gathered there, whispering and shaking their heads. Korea was curled in on himself beside a door, hiding behind his hands. Lev took careful steps towards them, pushing his way past to see inside the open door.

The inside was painted red, splashes across the walls and on the ground. The child tilted his head in sick fascination.

"China's dead, shot in the head, blood on the floor, blood on the bed" Sung a soft voice beside him. Lev turned his eyes to see the girl beside him.

Anya was born a year after him, her little light blue dress reaching her knees. A whimsical look glazed over her features as her deep purple eyes glanced over what he had just seen. He blinked, he never met her mother, he was too young to remember, and it was simply another question that was never answered. All that Russia would say was that her mother was next to his.

He wanted to know why her hair was the same colour as Francis's and had the same soft waves in it, and why her eyes were Darker purple then Papa's.

"Hush Anya, people will think you've gone mad" he whispered, a slight smile pinching at his cheeks. Anya giggled and hugged the oversized bear in her arms, "A gift from mother to daughter" Ivan had said. Lev stared at the white bear, wondering if his Mama had left him anything.

His younger sister turned and skipped off down the hall, wanting to be the first to tell Papa about the newest dead to be added to his sunflower patch. Lev blinked his brown eyes again, as much as he cared about his sister, she was creepy. Every new suicide added to her twisted little song.

Laughter to sweet and twisted to belong to such a young girl echoed through the halls.

"England's knife, Ended his life, killed his sons, ended their strife!"

Four in one day, that was a record.

Russia Frowned at the new graves in the sunflower bed. His young so dirty and shovel in hand, staring up at his Papa for approval. His eyes met his Lev's gaze. Russia's precious little boy, his prized possession, was to unlike him. The boy never smiled, sometimes he gave a wicked smirk, but never smile. his eyes weren't like his, or his hair, both must've been inherited from Sydney.

But his spirit was his own.

"I buried them for you Papa, that 5 this week." Russia looked back at the upturned soil. Estonia, China, England, Hong Kong and Australia.

A large hand patted the black mop of hair. "Good boy, you have done well"

Ivan turned and went into the house without another word. Levs shovel dropped to the ground.

Why didn't Papa look at him anymore, was it because he looked like mama? Should he be meaner like him? Be more like Anya? Lev went into the house and plodded to the kitchen area, hiding under the table.

What could it take to make Papa love him like he used to?

Russia stared at the picture on his desk, Him holding Lev when he had been just a new born. At the time it hadn't been obvious. But as the years dragged on it became it became in creasingly clear that Lev wasn't his.

Of course he wouldn't tell him, as if he would risk the loyalty of his 'child'.

Lev may figure it out eventually, but in the mean time he would never know that he wasn't really His son or Anya's brother, Kiku wouldn't figure out he was a father and he could hold onto the empire he so desperately clung to.

This boy was a secret, this secret was everything .