Thanks again to sebas-chan001 who helped me put my ideas for this chapter in order. And hope you enjoy this chapter, it's a little longer than the last few, so there's that. I'm already working on the next one, so that should be out soon too.

When the two entered the dining room, whatever conversation that had been going on stopped, and of course everyone turned to stare at them. Canada blushed and look down, pretending the attention of the room wasn't on her.

"Good evening." Russia greeted everyone, acting as if nothing was out of sorts.

"What is this?" Belarus demanded, looking quite crazed at the sight of her 'love' in the arms of another woman. Canada guessed this would not end well later, and she wanted to run and hide from Belraus' accusatory stare.

"We've come to dinner."

"Come to dinner," Belarus repeated, her voice was flat, "Together."

"Yes, you have problem?" Russia asked her.

"I like that dress, it looks nice." Ukraine commented in approval, causing Belarus to snort rather loudly, before a silence could further disturb the meal, "Is it for the winter party tomorrow?"

"Oh, thank you," Canada's blush deepened, "And, yeah it is."

Russia pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit in it, and she did so. After she was comfortable, he seated himself next to her, even making an effort to scoot the chair closer. It silent for a minute, and Canada felt the angry stare of Belarus boring into her, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Some food was brought to the table, and everyone dished something onto their plates. Canada didn't really pay attention, she suddenly felt like she wanted to disappear, if only her power worked when she actually wanted to. For many near unbearable minutes, the sound of forks scraping against plates filling the otherwise icy silence.

"I got some RSVPs back for the party." Ukraine said, in an obvious attempt to engage a conversation.

"That is good. Who is coming?" Russia replied, looking to his sister.

"Basically everyone, and the storm is supposed to let up tonight, so traveling here shouldn't be too much of an issue."

"The storm's letting up?" Canada spoke, although admittedly it was more to herself than anyone.

"Yes. Good news, no?" Belarus told her, and Canada looked her way to see a devilish smirk appear on that face, "Once it lets up you can go, and get away from here. For good."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Canada muttered sadly. She really didn't want to go, and for some reason she actually wanted to stay here, with Russia.

It seemed almost ritual, how the table fell silent again. No one spoke as some chocolate cake was brought out for dessert, nor while they were eating it. At some point Canada felt Russia's hand on hers, and he stroked it gently. She looked up at him, and saw that he wasn't really paying attention to what he was doing, other than eating his dessert. Still, the chill of his skin somehow comforted her, and she didn't move away. Canada also noted that Belarus' attention was honed in on their hands, jealousy, anger, and vengeance playing across her face. When everyone was satisfied, and all the cake had been cleaned up or eaten, Canada stood from the table.

"Um...excuse me, I'm tired. I think I'll head to bed," She nodded to Belarus and Ukraine curtly, while giving a small smile to Russia. She gathered her skirts and swept out of the room. Canada somehow found her way back to the bedroom she'd been given and closed the door behind her. She let out a loud sigh, glad that the awkward dinner encounter was over and that she didn't have to socialize for a while. Sometimes participating in conversations was so draining. Glancing to the dresser in the room, she decided it would be best to change into something, more comfortable. The bottom drawer of the dresser had all sorts of nightgowns and other pajamas. She sorted through some of the night gowns, until she found a small pink one that looked closer to her size (as the other ones would have been way too big on her small frame). Canada changed as quickly as she could, but given her dress was corseted at the bodice, made it more of a hassle to do so. She rummaged through the top drawer, where she'd found the brush earlier, and found a toothbrush. Taking it in hand, she opened the door and went into the bathroom just a few steps from her room. The bathroom had a drawer to the left of the sink, and she looked around in it, hoping to find some toothpaste. Unfortunately, she found none and sighed heavily, realizing she'd seen some in one of the drawers and had neglected to grab it. Of course. She chided to herself. Canada started to go back to her room, when she noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Did I leave the door open? That's odd, doesn't seem like something I'd do. She tip toed towards the door, which was spilling light into the dim hallway. There was some odd noises coming from inside, and when she peered through the crack, she saw someone she had not expected to see. Belarus stood in front of the bed, her back to Canada, and her head tilted downwards. She had the demeanor of someone who had accomplished a life goal, and she was laughing softly. Canada realized that where the other was standing was where she had laid her dress on the bed. She gulped, the sudden nervousness that always seemed to appear around Belarus, freezing her in the doorway.

"Belarus?" She asked, and the other country turned around, an almost evil look twinkling in her eyes.

"Hello." She chuckled, "I thought I'd help you with you dress. It appears it needed some alterations."

Alterations? Canada looked slightly puzzled at Belarus, but she stepped into the room and approached the bed. She froze again when she saw what Belarus had accomplished. Her dress was torn up, bits and pieces were missing from the bodice and skirt, and giant holes now gaping in their place. A gasp was all she could manage, turning to the other with tears threatening her eyes. Belarus held up the offending weapon: a pair of scissors with some fabric still stuck between the blades.

"What...Why?" Canada asked her, finding the courage to stare the other in the eyes. She just laughed at Canada in response.

"Because you are getting too close to my brother. He hasn't spoken very much to me at all since you had your stupid little idea to get lost in the woods. Ever since you woke, you have been at the core of his attentions, ensnaring him with your little helpless act, making him leave me." Belarus told her, taking a step closer to Canada who picked up the heavy scent of Vodka and Belarus' strange look.

"I didn't make him do anything. It's not like it was my plan to disrupt your holidays." Canada said softly, and cast her eyes down so as to not have to look at the other.

"I think you're lying. Big brother would never leave me, we're going to be married, and become one at last," Canada made a face at the mention of the siblings' marriage but said nothing as Belarus moved even closer, their noses now brushing each other, "I had made so much progress recently, and you've set me back at least another month."

"I…" Canada found herself at a loss for words. She noted that, with what little distance there was between them now, that Belarus still held the scissors.

"You've ruined everything." Belarus told her, with a rising voice.

"I've made him happy, is that so bad?" Canada questioned the other, taking a risk to look back into her eyes, hoping that the growing rage would dissipate, but it got worse.

"Happy?!" Belarus let out a maniacal laugh, "He is not happy around you. How could he be? You are just a good-for-nothing-syrup-loving-delusional- fool!"

Canada took a step back from the other, not wanting to further their argument. She hated arguments, of any sort, with anyone, even people she wasn't exactly on the same page with. Belarus mimicked her movements and stepped forward.

"You could never make him happy. You make him miserable, and you change him." Belarus told her angrily, and she suddenly pushed Canada, who stumbled back into the door, which slammed shut.

Slightly dazed, Canada saw Belarus approaching her, and before she knew it, the other had pinned her to the door. Belarus' heavy breathing echoed through the room. Canada pushed softly at the other, trying to get her to move away.

"I can make him happy," Canada found herself retorting back, "Because if I couldn't do so, he would never have kissed me earlier!"

She quickly shut her mouth, suddenly afraid that she'd admitted it. Canada saw the wheels beginning to turn in Belarus' head.

"He….he kissed you? You wretched liar!" Belarus practically screamed at her, suddenly lashing out at Canada with the scissors. She moved her head to the side, but Belarus' aim was good and the scissors scraped across her cheek. Pain began to throb from the cut, and Canada felt a few dribbles of blood trickle to her chin. Canada looked up, and saw the mirror opposite of them, the cut went from the top of her cheek, just below her eye, to the bottom by her jawline. Her eyes went from the mirror to Belarus, and she felt rage, unfamiliar and foreign to her, bubble inside her. In a hurry she pushed with all her might at Belarus, who stumbled back. America's lessons on self-defense came back to her in glimpses. Canada approached the other.

"You are the cruelest person I have ever met." Canada tasted the insult on her tongue, and something inside her told her to stop. That rage wasn't the answer. It tried to tell her that Belarus was drunk, and hadn't meant it. It tried to get her to stop, and she ignored it, "And you should know, Russia doesn't take kindly to you. I see the way he looks at you, and it isn't love. It's fear. He fears you."

Belarus seemed shocked at how Canada was acting towards her. Canada wanted to hurt her back, to do something to prove that Belarus hadn't gotten the best of her.

"No, but he hates weakness. And you have a lot of that. You can't even defend yourself against anything, you always have to be rescued." Belarus fired back, gaining ground again in the argument, no longer looking frightened.

Belarus' comment stung at Canada because for all these years she had always known she wasn't the fighting type, the strong type, or the brave type. No, she had known this for a very long time, but the mere fact of it being spoken out loud hurt her more than it ever had as a thought. Canada felt her rage dissipating, fading away, just like she did in crowds. Just fading away, never being noticed, or seen, or remembered, but always there. Part of her wanted to apologize to Belarus, for no reason other than to see the other's anger go away. For minutes the two stared at each other, one with anger and the other with regret and then there was a knock at the door, and seconds later Russia burst in. Canada watched him take note of the ruined dress, of Belarus' now bloody scissors, and of her cut.

"What is going on here?" He asked no one in particular.

"I...We…" Canada started, trying to think of the least violent way to describe the situation.

"I was just having a little chat with Canada. Seemed she had a little trouble with her dress. Big brother what are you doing here? I thought you had gone to bed also?" Belarus asked, seeming to hide her rage from her voice.

Russia stepped towards Canada and gently grabbed her chin, taking a closer look at the cut. Canada wondered what he was thinking, probably how weak you are. To let yourself get cut like this. He said nothing as he looked to Belarus' hand, where the offending scissors were.

"You did this." His voice rang out, unquestioning.

"Brother, I can explain...it was all Canada's fault. She provoked me. She wanted me to hurt her, so that you'd turn from me."

"Get out. Now." Russia said dangerously, and Canada started to shake at the calm anger in his voice. Belarus looked at him and Canada and back, and seemed to be overcome by the sudden aura of power coming from him, and she sulked out of the room. His gaze turned back to her, still holding the rage as he studied the cut.

"I'm sorry." Canada was barely able to whisper the words, but she knew she had to say something. Had to get that anger out of his eyes, to get it directed away from her.

"Why are you sorry, little flower? My sister has hurt you, and ruined your dress." He murmured, "She will pay for poor hospitality later. You are hurt."

"It's fine….just a scratch." Canada told him, unable to keep his gaze any longer, she looked away.

"A deep scratch," Russia strained and went towards the door again, "Stay here." He told her, before storming off. She heard him enter the bathroom and rummage through something.

He returned shortly after, holding a washcloth and some Band-Aids in his hands. She watched him approach, and winced when the cloth brushed the wound. It smelled of rubbing alcohol and stung like crazy.

"Stay still." He told her in a soothing tone, the softest he had ever spoken to her. She did as he asked, and waited as he cleaned the cut, spreading Band-Aids over it when he was finished.

"Thank you." She told him, noticing that he did not back away when he had completed his task.

"I am sorry for my sister, my winter flower, she has never been one to be kind to guests, especially the pretty female kind." He told her.

"I know. It's my fault anyway. If I hadn't gotten lost in the storm, I would never have intruded on your holiday."

"You didn't intrude. You made it better, you see, da?" He was staring at her again, but instead of the usual squirming she felt in these circumstances, she felt...safe.

"I suppose." She whispered.

"You need rest for tomorrow, da? Many people will be coming to the party, and you must be rested."

"But, what if she comes back?" Canada shook at the thought of Belarus sneaking up to her and cutting her again.

"She will not. I will make sure." He then sat himself at the foot of the bed and folded his arms, "I will protect you."

Canada nodded, and climbed under the comforter. She saw his silhouette moving against the light. The day's events had caught up to her, and she felt the tell-tale sign of exhaustion appear. Slowly, her eyelids began to droop, and she slipped into a dream.

Russia's POV

He listened, waiting for her breathing to slow. It didn't take long until Canada was fast asleep, and he stood from the bed. He was furious at his sister, what a disgrace she had become. Surely, she had gone insane this time. Russia was uncertain as to how to deal with her. She needed punishment for hurting her, his delicate little flower. What, then, should I do? Torture was out of the question, Canada wouldn't like to learn of him hurting someone. There were so many other options, but many of them included him hurting her.

Canada rolled over in her sleep, muttering something incoherent in her sweet little voice. He was perched on the middle of one of the sides on the bed, his arm laying out behind him. When he felt her arms wrap around his, he startled and looked down, afraid he had awoken her, but she was still lost in her dreams. He stared at the door for some time, enough so that he had memorized the little niches and imperfections by the time when soft footsteps could be heard in the hallway. Russia tensed, knowing that Belarus' room was not far from here and should she decide to return, it would be all too easy. A few minutes later, he heard the sink in the bathroom go off, and then the footsteps faded away. It was very early in the morning when Russia realized that returning to his room would not be a solution. Surely, knowing Belarus like he did, she would come back as soon as he was gone and do who knows what to his little winter flower.

Again, he picked up the sound of footsteps in the hall, but this time they did not stop at the bathroom, and approached the door. He watched as the door slowly opened and his sister stepped in with the hall light trailing in behind her. It took her a moment to realize that he was there, and another to read the look on his face.

"Brother? What are you doing in here, with her?" She almost demanded. He found his anger returning from a simmer quickly.

"Keeping her safe." He replied, though his voice came out a harsh whisper. Russia did not feel the need to play games with his sister, not tonight, especially after what she had done. He slowly rose from the bed, careful to not disturb the sleeping country, and approached his sister. Her expression changed from one of questioning to one of worry as he neared her. She was studying him now, and he could feel the power of his anger escaping through that purple aura. There was no messing with him this time, he saw the realization of her mistake cross her eyes and then disappear.

"Why would you want to keep that….girl," She emphasized the word, "Safe, when you neglect the safety and comfort of your love?"

"She would never have hurt you like you do her." He told her, ignoring the last comment that left her mouth.

"She….that little witch! She has turned you from me! You used to love me, she has tricked you from that." Belarus seemed incapable of speaking quietly, as her voice rose close to a yell. Without another word, Russia stepped closer, watching her step back into the hallway. He quickly closed the door behind him.

"I never did love you, like that. And I very much doubt I ever could be, after I've seen this side of you. You hurt the one person who has been able to make me smile, the genuine kind, the kind I have not been able to muster for a while. I could hurt you for it, but I know it wouldn't get through to you, and she wouldn't like it." Russia felt the words leave his mouth, shocked at how much emotion he was letting out.

"Brother…" Belarus began, and her saw her cunning eyes start to twist the situation into Canada's fault.

"I am not finished. Because of your behavior around a guest of the house, you will not be attending the party tomorrow. You will stay in your room while it goes on. And you have to apologize to her, she did not deserve to be hurt."

"She, hurt?! Brother! Can't you see? She has brainwashed you so much, you can't even see it you're so far lost. I was trying to free you from her, so that we could be together." Belarus whined at him, seeming to claw at any excuse to escape her brother's anger.

Russia didn't reply, he only stared into her eyes, and saw no remorse in them.

"Very well then." He quipped at her. She was frozen as he reached around her, picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder. Her arms hit at his back, and her feet kicked anything they could touch.

"Put me down!" She shrieked at him, but he did not comply.

Slowly, he made his way to the servants' quarters, passing the filled rooms until he came upon the empty one. Still not saying anything, he deposited her on the cot in the room, and walked out. If she said anything, he didn't hear it over his own thoughts. When the door closed, he found his keys and turned the lock. He heard silence on the other side as he did this, and then he turned and walked back towards Canada's room without a second glance back.