Hey, I'd like to thank The Fairy Cake again for reviewing to help me edit the last chapter.
And here comes chapter 3 of my Hetalia Fanfiction!
.Review!
…
Toris heard the possibilities in the man's voice, but made his decision then and there, before he could think it through and realize fully what the man was implying.
"I'd be honored."
If accepting would get his siblings the life they deserved, then he'd willingly make a deal with the devil. Besides, it's not like he had much of a choice.
"Wonderful," he smiled before turning to the innkeeper, "I'll need two more rooms!"
"Ah, Mr. Branginski," Toris protested, "You don't have to do that. We can share, it'll be fine…"
He waved away the innkeeper with his orders before turning to the Lithuanian, "As my servant, you might have to work after your siblings go to sleep. Wouldn't you rather have your own room and so not wake them up when you come in?"
The logic was phrased innocently, with an expression that told Toris that he would be glad of it before their time together was up.
"Thank you," he spoke, hanging his head.
"Нет, do not lower your head," he lifted up his chin again, "Take your brothers to your new room, and we shall get you what you need tomorrow."
…
Up in his brother's new room, Toris sat down heavily on the soft bed, relieved when no cloud of dust was kicked up. He didn't want to overly worry, but part of him was suspicious that Raivis might be getting asthma. He seemed to cough a lot in dusty places, more than normal.
Perhaps this job was a godsend. It certainly seemed that way. Not only was he getting a well-paying job, but he was receiving food and board, for his siblings too, as well as passage to America. Mr. Branginski had finalized the details before he had returned, just to be sure that his brothers were sleeping soundly.
It seemed almost too good to be true. He tried not to think that this might turn out poorly for him in the end.
Sighing, he brushed the hair from Raivis's face and pressed a light kiss on his forehead.
"Don't get hurt because of us," a voice spoke up, causing him to whirl, startled.
"Eduard, why are you still awake?"
"Promise me."
A soft smile crossed his face. "I promise."
The Estonian had no way of telling if it was an empty assurance or not.
…
It took so long, when they were married, she'd fix that. Perhaps in America he'd be more willing to accept her advances. No one there need know their parents had married each other, they could claim that she was his fiancée.
It could be a spring wedding. She knew Ivan preferred warmer weather to the chilling winters they got back home in Russia, though too much heat made him feel sick.
This just proved what a good wife she'd be to him. What other girl would think about these things for their husband?
She walked down the streets of London, walking as quickly as she could. Natalya knew that she really shouldn't be walking the streets by herself, but she had managed to come earlier than expected with no way to send word to her brother.
What a good surprise this would be. She smiled to herself as she entered the inn he had said he was staying at.
Cheerful music was playing, and she could hear the clapping that was cheering on a dancer that took her breath away once she saw him.
Decked out in bright colors of yellow, green, and red, he danced like an exotic butterfly, wafting on the breeze.
Every gesture was filled with emotion, and suddenly she found herself feeling even happier than she had been previously at just the mere thought of seeing her brother again.
She caught sight of a broad grin, filled with happiness and passion. It was like he had wings on his heels as he leapt and twirled, brown hair flying.
Ah, so there was the magic in this.
Because he loved what he was doing, the audience enjoyed it the same. She had seen stuff like this in the Russian ballets, ballerinas who could connect with their audience and those who always failed. But though this wasn't ballet – no, there was a touch of coarseness that made it impossible for the dance to be truly called by such a term, though it just made those moments of grace more elegant and potent – she could see that the man had a gift.
She felt the heavy tread of her brother and looked up to see what he thought of the dancer. Her brother had appreciated the dancers as much as she had, and had often taken her to watch the ballets back in Russia. But as her eyes found his face, she suddenly felt cold.
Ivan looked enraptured.
Natalya hated the mystery dancer, that boy.
...
I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Natalya has officially entered the main story.
Look out Lithuania!