Title: Intermarium
Author: fal1ingstars
Pairing/Characters: Pol/Liet, Poland centric
Summery: You won't give him his heart back, because if you did, it wouldn't be yours anymore.
Disclaimer: Do you honestly think I own anything?
He fought against you when he woke up. You forgot how fast he could be, and you received more then just a few bruises trying to get him to stay put. And he would run away, and hide. You would chase after him, on your horse, and finally take him back home, hands tied behind his back, and you wouldn't allow him out of your sight. You would smile and try to promise that you were doing this for the best, but he didn't care.
He continued to run away, you chased him back, you tried to promise, you tried to reassure him, and that you loved him, no matter what. You wanted him to remain here, where he could be safe, and he wanted to be free.
You didn't know how he could keep on going, or why his desire to get away from you was so strong. Sometimes he would calm down, and you would catch glimpses of his scars when he was changing. You would feel slightly bad, but promise yourself that you were doing the best, and that you would never hurt him like that-never.
You promise that you wouldn't do anything like that to make him love you back, you even said that you'd free the prisoners, allowing them to go back home, he refused to speak to you.
There was no relationship anymore, he treated you like you weren't even there, and although you tried for negotiations, he would ignore you and walk out of the room. And you watched as he left, trying to bring him back, and he would shake you off. He would walk out, you promised everything, but he ignored you.
You at first, pretend that nothing was the matter, that it was still like the old days. You would ask him if your uniform made you look fat, and you would ask him to help you fix the sleeves, and wash the bloodstains off.
You couldn't do it, after the first tries, and finally you chuck it into your closet. Hopefully to be forgotten, since it was totally in a hideous shade of green. You would sit next to him at dinner, complaining, and he would nod his head, and say nothing.
You were put out, but tried not to show it.
You could hear it. Rebellion. You could hear the news that they were rebelling against you, and you wonder why they were being so damned ungrateful towards you. You had saved them all, and this was the thanks you were given for it.
How couldn't anything be more wrong then this. Yet you give no indication to him, he was silently looking off into space, and you realize that you would have no place in his heart anymore, if this continued on.
One day a messenger hurried in, demanding a audience with him. He followed the messenger, who handed him a letter. He knew what it was about, and he took it and sat in his room. You could hear him crying at night, but you took no mind of it.
You continued to act as though nothing was the matter, and each day he got paler, and lost more and more sleep. Finally the messenger came back, and they talked in hushed tones. You watched from a window seat, and you only heard one word. "Yes"
You know what it was about. Your boss had talked about it with you, and you knew that he wasn't strong enough to fight anymore. War might have been coming, and he was trapped between a rock and a hard place.
It was a treaty, asking him to relinquish claims to the Wilno region that was yours. You knew that they were asking him to give up his heart, his capital, his pride and joy, but you allowed it. It was the one way that Interseas could work.
He had to give up something, so you would gain it.
You walked to the painting gallery, and a younger you stared into your eyes. Weren't you two best friends and partners? Why did you keep him here against his will like that? Why are you so cruel, so cold now?
That he was disappointed in you, , he would have never hurt his partner, his lover like this. And that he doesn't know who you are anymore, and you look away, into the eyes of Jagwiga, another painting. You want to reply back, to say that you were indeed protecting him, but you ran back into the meeting room.
Back in the room, you picked up a book, and started reading. Your eyes watered on the first few lines, and you placed the book back on it's shelf. You looked for another book, but they were all on old treaties, that was the book had made into a mass of papers instead of events that really happened.
You tried to make light talk with him, but he only have gave you one word answers, and you finally gave up and decided to stay silent.
He looked at you, asking what was going to happen, and you shake your head with a smile. "Like, it's just a operation. Nothing like, too bad. I promise you, it's nothing like what Russia did to you." You say, but you know it was a lie, and he does too.
You saw him cringe, but his face was placid. He smiled coldly at you, and you wanted to know what he is thinking. Wordlessly he walked into the room, a single bed was there, and a tall man in a white jacket walked towards you, gesturing for him to sit down. You reassure him that it was nothing, and he sat on the bed, and a doctor pulled a syringe out.
His expression was like a cornered animal realizing that he was going to die, and was resigned. You bite your lip, and your boss placed his hand on your shoulder, and you shiver against his touch. His fatherly eyes suddenly seem cruel, and you wanted him to leave.
"Why are you going to, like hurt him like this, Pan Piłsudski?" You mouthed at him, looking up into his green eyes, and at his crisp military uniform. How could he order this in cold blood, you wanted to ask. How could he do something like this, when he had promised peace after the war?
He sat down beside you, he looked calm, his expression motionless. He looked the militaristic general that he was, the militaristic visionary that had dreams and was willing to make every sacrifice, even the biggest sacrifice, for the greater good. For the Commonwealth.
He had called it, and you realized how ironic that was. For the Commonwealth. It didn't exist anymore, and could never exist anymore. And he and you were the last two people to realize that simple fact. He was calm in his reply. "I'm not, Pan Łukasiewicz, you trust me, don't you?"
You want to reply that you used to, but not anymore. You want to reply that you hate him, and that he was a cruel monster, a sadist, and you wanted to kill him. But you remain silent as the knife fell, a silver flash, and you felt like you were going to choke as the next cut came, you felt sick to your stomach, and run out, feeling bile rise up in your throat, running and then throwing up on the marble floor.
Why didn't you stop this from happening?He wasn't going to die, but he was so close to it.
They were going to make him suffer for the war, and you couldn't believe they were your people. So you walk back, and bury you face into your boss's jacket, and he said that it was for the best, and you tried to make yourself believe in him, because otherwise you wouldn't be able to live with the guilt. You didn't watch, and you hoped with all of your heart that he wouldn't remember anything.
It was a slow agonizing process, but finally you had his heart, in your hand. You felt no joy in it, and the doctor looked up at you. You boss looked at you. Both were expecting something to be said, and you finally choke out a 'Thank You' and you squat down on the hard floor, and take his hands into yours.
His hands were cold and numb, and you hold onto it for eternity, the doctor and your boss had already left the room, leaving just you two. There was a bandage wrapped around his middle, and he was covered in a thin blanket.
He was shivering, and you wrap the blanket around him. He was still cold, yet you watched him, slightly relieved that he seemed to be smiling in his sleep. Things were finally happening right, his heart was finally yours, and you don't care about anything else anymore.
And you pull a chair up against the bed, and you wait for him to wake up. You wait, holding your breathe when he didn't breath, eyes focused on his face. You gently brushed his hair away from his face.
And then he finally woke up.
You are happy now, aren't you? You have all that you wanted, but you wanted more. You have him, you even have his heart. But you wished that things had worked out differently. He was sitting in a chair, his eyes focused on the window.
You sit beside him, with a flower in your hand. He drew back, and you look at him in worry. He didn't speak anymore, he only sat there, he was like a doll, moving mechanically. he rejected your invitation to go mushroom hunting again, and you felt hurt.
There was no right for him to treat you like this. You had saved him, Intermarium, between seas. Now nobody would bother him again, nobody could hurt him but you, and you promised that you wouldn't do a thing such as this. You wish that somehow you could turn back time, go back to that fateful war, and fix everything up. He was next to you, but a world away from you. When you tried to kiss him, he would kiss back, but seemed distracted.
You were pulling on all his strings to get him to speak to you.
You don't know what had happened, but you do know that his heart would never be yours anymore, and rightfully so. You know that it was his, but you still kept it. So with a heavy heart, you try to go on living as usual. You smile for him, and he smile back, but with reluctance.
You promise that you won't hurt him anymore, but you can tell that he didn't listen to you anymore. You know that riots were happening, and that your soldiers tried to put them down.
"Feliks." He finally says, and your turn you head around, incredulous that he had spoken a word to you. "Why are you doing this?" He asked, and you don't know how to reply. So you fix your eyes onto a painting of Prometheus, and he follow you gaze. You stare at the picture of the Greek Titan for a moment, smiling at him. His eyes were smirking, even though there were chains around him, and vultures, or were they black eagles, came near him.
You continue to view the painting, and he tried to see what you were staring at. To him it was just a painting, so you explain. "It's like to basically protest against like, despotism." You say, you know that you aren't making much sense, in his perspective, but you didn't know how to explain it any better.
"Like, so Germany and Russia wouldn't attack us anymore." You added, and he continued to looked at you in confusion. You wrap an arm around him, and he didn't pull away for the first time.
"I want my heart back." He tells you, and your eyes look up for the first time. There was hope in his eyes, but you knew that you couldn't say yes. So you shake your head, and look away, and kiss him on the lips, gently, your eyes not waiting to meet his eyes. You won't give him his heart back, because if you did, it wouldn't be yours anymore.
A/N: The end, but an epilogue might come.
Historical Note: The 1938 Polish ultimatum to Lithuania was an ultimatum delivered to Lithuania by Poland on March 17, 1938. The Lithuanian government had steadfastly refused to have any diplomatic relations with Poland after 1920, protesting the annexation of Vilnius/Wilno.
The Polish ultimatum demanded that the Lithuanian government unconditionally agree to establish diplomatic relations with Warsaw within 48 hours, and that the terms be finalized before March 31. The establishment of diplomatic relations would mean a de facto renunciation of Lithuanian claims to the region containing its historic capital, Vilnius. Lithuania accepted the ultimatum on March 19.