A/N: First off, THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed/faved/read/etc this! Seriously, that's what makes me update {and that goes for any story ^^}
The first part {not in italics} is a flash-forward, to Belarus as we know and love her, maybe even a farther-into-the-future Belarus. It's really up for interpretation. But she's definitely older, wiser, and a total sadist xD The part in italics picks up where the last chapter left off.
Obviously, I don't own Hetalia, flames are only good for campfire songs, reviews are so awesome that Prussia is jealous, and - oh yeah - don't stop believin'! ^^
Who was she? She was Natalia Alfroskaya, the one thing that terrified her brother, the largest nation in the world.
She, of course, did not know for certain that he was largest, but she intended to find out.
As for being completely and absolutely terrifying, it gave her some degree of satisfaction. Here was a man, half-drunk and completely psychotic, that beat and tortured innocent nations, that wielded a faucet and had the audacity to jump out of a plane without a parachute because there was snow on the ground.
Yes. He was quite psychotic. She had determined this a while ago. She wasn't precisely sure why she still loved him, after all this time.
And then there was Natalia. Small, cute, with long, light hair, innocent in her midnight-blue dress. He was the only one that knew the smirk, had seen the rabid light in her eyes. The torturer being tortured. She found the irony amusing. The most feared, mentally unstable man in the world coming undone because of a girl's simple love. Add in the fact that they were related, and you had her predicament.
Her love wasn't that simple, though. It had started that way – wide-eyed adoration – and suddenly she was older and possessed the bane of a girl's existence, hormones. That's when she became rabid.
--
He bought her the dresses, but she couldn't smile. She was terrified – surely she had driven him away with her question. It always worked out in his books: the girl comes forward with a confession of love, in some epic and roundabout way, and the man takes her in his arms and kisses her and swears that he has only been waiting for her to say this. That's how it was supposed to work.
The first time, she was more afraid than her brother. She kept meaning to speak with him, tell him that it was a joke, that she was making her sure he wasn't into incest because there had been rumors… she could think up convincing lies, but getting them past her lips was impossible.
She was so terrified of losing his love that she laid low for a while. She watched from a distance and tried to constantly be near him. He was growing up, and so was she. When they looked out the windows, her sister always gazed toward Europe, his eyes would possess a dreamy quality, and she would stare at him.
Once, he caught her. It was just the two of them. Of course.
"What you thinkin' of, Nat?" he said, smiling warily.
"Where are warm places, Ivan?" She knew how much he loved them.
He sighed. "Everywhere but here, it seems."
"Are you going there?"
"Not now."
"If you're miserable here, then why do you stay?"
"I have to protect you girls."
"But Ivan, I'll go with you! We can go somewhere warm together! If you want, we can take Kat-"
"Nat…I don't understand."
"What?"
"Why were you staring at me?"
She forced herself to look away from those eyes. "I want you to be happy."
"Answer the question, Nat." He grabbed her shoulder roughly; his perfect lips only inches from hers. He wouldn't be thinking like that, though. He wouldn't.
"I-I just stare into space, Ivan, and I…happened to be looking at you…"
He didn't hide the disbelief on his face. "Nat, if there's something wrong, tell me. You can tell me anything."
"Ivan, I-" She reached a hand out to stroke his face, but he either saw it coming or life hated her, because he released his grip and stepped back.
"Never mind, Nat. I guess you don't want to tell m-"
"No, Ivan! I do! I-"
"Nat." His voice was firm. "If something really is troubling you, then tell me."
"I'm trying to!"
"But if it's any more of this 'do you love me as a sister?' business, then I don't want to hear it."
Her heart plummeted off a cliff and smashed into a million shards of shrapnel. "W-why?" she faltered.
"You're a funny kid, Nat, but I think we're both too old for those kind of jokes. Go play them on Toris, or-"
"No." Her brow furrowed, and suddenly she looked incredibly like him.
"Nat? What are you-"
"It's not a joke, Ivan. I'm pretty damn serious." She advanced slowly, with a smirk gracing her expression that could very well have been considered unholy, if not slightly demonic.
"I love you, Ivan." Her hand reached out to touch him, but he was too quick, darting out of the room at a pace unnatural for his frame.
He had not been disturbed. He had not been scared. He had not been afraid. He had not even been terrified.
He had nearly been paralyzed with fear.
She knew this. She had seen it on his face. What had she done? Surely she had driven him away! She sank to her knees, feeling the tears tugging at her throat again. She buried her face in her hands and let herself cry. Oh, what had she done?
It wasn't long until her sister came and wrapped her in her arms. She sobbed into her sister's shirt. Her sister didn't mind, because her sister didn't know.
He came by eventually. Her sister was indignant that he wasn't comforting her. But he merely shook his head. "I'm sorry, but that girl is rabid."
Was he so naïve to think that she didn't hear?
Yes, her heart was shreds of shrapnel, shreds that dug and tore into her being. Was this was he felt, this overpowering rage that could not be controlled, the half-insanity brought on by years of pain?
"If only I am like him," she thought, "then it is alright.
"If only I am like him, I won't mind being rabid.
"Because, truth be told, I liked it."