Time passed in absolute silence and darkness. It was impossible to tell how long it had been. There was nothing but the oppressive darkness that pressed in on him, forcing Prussia deeper into his own mind. There thoughts emerged freely, threatening to undermine all the discipline that kept him resisting. Prussia felt like he was going mad trapped inside his own thoughts. They would not let him simply have peace.
He repeatedly let his mind dwell on Russia's promise. Could he really sate his ambition? He had no doubt that Russia had the strength to do exactly as he promised, the war had shown that the country was capable of inflicting massive damage even when he himself was wounded. But, the question was whether Prussia embraced Russia to have that strength. That was a dangerous prospect, but it held onto his mind and grew like a parasite.
He tried not to listen to the thoughts that told him that his own pride would be a small price to pay for both the sensation and the power he craved. In this state of helplessness, Prussia longed all the more to have power to impose his will again. At the height of the war he had been drunk, even giddy with power. He argued within himself, trying to defuse the ambition or convince himself the promise was impossible. But, the part of his mind that still clung to Nazi ideology was slowly fading away, becoming quieter with every sweet word Russia spoke to him.
There was no real reason to hate communism, only what years of opposition had ingrained into him. But, he was a country and he should be able to change ideology when it suited him. Prussia shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the inevitable end of this logic. He would not become communist, no matter how little the transition would actually mean. He need only remind himself that becoming a communist state meant following the lead of the Soviet Union without question. That he could not do.
The memory of the feeling of Russia's hands against him threatened to derail even this objection. Was it not a lover's duty to submit? The only measure Prussia had of how much time was passing was the amount of pain in his shoulders, which only increased with time. It had started as only a feeling of tiredness and progressed from a dull ache to pain, and the pain was constant. Now they throbbed, making it impossible to ignore even for the treasonous thoughts in the pain. He was gritting his teeth to deal with the pain, but the muscles in his jaw were making it clear that they objected to how often he was using this technique to deal with pain. There was nothing to distract him from the pain, nothing in his field of vision or even whispering sweetly in his ear. As much as he loathed to admit it, Prussia was beginning to miss Russia's presence. It gave him something to resist and reminded him why he couldn't surrender. If only Russia would return, they could continue their conflict.
The vast silence that surrounded him was broken by the sound of the door opening. Prussia immediately reacted to it with more joy than he dared to admit. Russia was back and he couldn't deny the excitement that he felt at the prospect. He didn't want to feel it, but it bloomed in his chest and made his heart flutter all the same. It was the prospect of that voice, that touch, both caressing and corrupting him. Prussia told himself that he did not long for it, but that was beginning to feel more and more like a lie. However, the excitement began to evaporate as he listened.
There was something off. The footsteps were lighter and less self-assured. They walked across the room, although it was harder to tell without the ringing clarity. Prussia understood what the difference meant. Either something had changed with Russia, or this was somebody else. There was a chance that if it was another person, they would help to relieve some of the pain. Prussia didn't dare to hope for that; he had very few friends left in the world. Unless they spoke, he had no indication of who they were.
He felt hands brush against his face, but not with the seductive assurance of Russia's. These hands shook slightly as they accidentally touched him. The flesh was warm, not puzzlingly cold like Russia. Prussia was suddenly overwhelmed by searing white light. The world had gone from black to blindingly bright. It was immediately clear that the blindfold had been removed, and Prussia's eyes were not ready for it. Whatever light was in the room seemed so much brighter after so much time in darkness. Prussia blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the sudden light. It took a few minutes for him to be able to even make out shapes in the brightness.
Finally, he looked at the person who had removed the blindfold. The blurry form began to solidify as Prussia's eyes adjusted to the bright light. He recognized the mousy brown hair and the green eyes, although the person in front of him could be friend or foe. It was hard to decide how to interpret Lithuania's presence. He spoke, realizing as he did so how hoarse his voice sounded, "Toris?"
Lithuania responded, "Yes, Gilbert. Ivan seems to think you need some time alone." The Baltic man's voice was alarmingly flat with only slight inflections. It was unnerving to hear words spoken with so little emotion. However, what he said made sense. If Russia truly wanted to deprive the albino, he would have to avoid any actual contact. This would allow Prussia to pine for him just for some company, which had been exactly what had been happening. The removal of the blindfold must be a breach of instruction. Russia wouldn't have allowed this human contact.
Prussia immediately countered, not entirely sure how to read the other's flat tone, "Then why are you talking to me?" Lithuania took a step backwards and his expression remained unreadable. Being able to hide his emotions like this must be an acquired skill from living in the Soviet Union. As Prussia had experienced, Russia could use any emotion to his advantage.
Thus, Lithuania let none slip through. He said, his aspect still flat, "I am not well behaved." Then his expression slipped, turning into a look of sickening amusement, "How the mighty fall. Not feeling like the top of the racial order now, are you?" His tone indicated his complete contempt. To this Prussia reacted. He immediately readied himself for the fight. He would not let a Baltic state, too weak to even resist Russia, find amusement in his plight. He would not be derided for continuing to fight instead of passively taking orders.
He growled, "I'm still better than you, coward." Lithuania's expression hardened again. Prussia felt a measure of triumph. He was getting Lithuania to react, even though the man was so used to hiding from Russia. Lithuania took a step forward, getting closer to Prussia again.
His voice remained firm but Prussia could see the slight quiver in his hands, "You aren't sorry, are you?"
The question seemed very strange, and Prussia was not certain what to say in response to it. He had nothing to apologize to Lithuania for. He had done nothing nothing he regretted. No single event came to mind for which he would feel even slightly inclined to be repentant to Lithuania. He said, mustering as much contempt as he could, "For what?"
This response made Lithuania recoil, the look on his face shifting to disgust, "I welcomed you with open arms. I thought you were going to save me from Ivan. You repaid me by torturing the man I love." Then it made sense. This was about the war. This was about Poland. At the moment, Prussia couldn't muster any response but anger. This was not the time or the place to have this argument. Lithuania was obviously assuming that because he was in a vulnerable position, he would beg forgiveness. Prussia recognized that this was the strategy of a man who didn't have the courage to face him while he had strength. Lithuania was showing himself, yet again, to be a coward. Prussia would not beg, especially not to a man so inferior to him. Even if he had some regret about his part in the war, he was not going to share it with Lithuania. Those were his own demons, and they were the same ones that urged him to accept Russia's offer.
He responded, his teeth still clenched, "You were naive. I never promised you I would do anything to help you. Did you just come here to lecture me?" His clear lack of remorse was obviously inflaming Lithuania's temper. But, the Baltic man's control was amazing. It was clear that he was used to having to hide what he thought around Russia.
His voice had taken on the original flatness again, rejecting all of the ways Prussia was antagonizing him, "No, actually I was sent to feed you."
He gestured to a plate of food that was sitting abandoned on a table. He then turned back to Prussia and said, "Ivan is being so gentle with you. He would let any of the rest of us starve." To this, Prussia had to object. The pain that he was going through was not gentle treatment. His shoulders were burning as they spoke, confirming that Russia was not being kinder to him.
He said, barely concealing how angry the insinuation was making him, "Do you even know what he's done to me?"
Lithuania scoffed in turn, "He hurts you only when he must. The rest of the time, he feels you up and seduces you. If it were any of the rest of us, we would be black and blue." This was news to Prussia, who had assumed that Russia was doing the worst he could possibly come up with. But, now that the other had said it, he realized that these lashes had not been much for the crime of desertion, for what he had said. Every time Russia hit him, it was with an open hand, which caused far less damage to his face than a fist. In hindsight, none of what had happened thus far had been that extreme. Were he not attracted to Russia, he would not have trouble resisting.
But that did not make sense. He had wounded Russia more deeply than anyone else. Puzzled, Prussia spoke the question that appeared in his mind with no expectation that Lithuania was going to respond, "But, why?" The only answer he could come up with could not be right. Russia could not care for him, not after what he had done.
But, Lithuania responded to the question all the same, "He says you're special. I think he sees himself in you."
He paused for only a moment to rake his eyes over Prussia's body one more time, his green eyes cold. Then he added, spite becoming perfectly clear in his voice, "You're both sick, and you deserve each other." He intended it to be intimidating, but Prussia felt a phantom smile twitch on his lip. With that, Lithuania turned and walked over to the plate, which had been neglected through the conversation.
Once he reached it, he stopped. He glanced back at Prussia with a slight smile. With one deliberate motion, he knocked the plate off the table. It smashed on the floor, food flying in every direction. Lithuania looked back and said, "Oh, clumsy me. It looks like you're going to have to starve the same way you made Felix starve." Without another word, he left the room, leaving only a tension hanging in the air.
Once Lithuania was gone, Prussia descended into thought again. He wasn't certain how long it had last been since he had eaten, but he was aware of hunger. However, he had survived the end of the war on meager rations, and being hungry wasn't bothering him. Anger was overwhelming him though, its caustic power infecting his every thought. The anger came from the display of impudence directed at him. He never would have take that sort of disrespect before, but he didn't have the power right now. He wanted to hurt Lithuania for insulting him, wanted to make the man beg for his forgiveness.
But, aside from the insults, something else the other had said was ringing in his ears. Was Russia really giving him special treatment? If that was the case, the glimmers of affection he had seen in Russia may be real. That he had not considered, but the thought was exceptionally dangerous. It was one thing to think of Russia as a potential lover, that could be avoided. But to think of him as a potential partner was another. Prussia wondered if it would be worth it to simply accept the affection and to return it. But he couldn't trust Lithuania. He couldn't trust that anything he said was true. Russia had every right to hate Prussia. The destruction at Stalingrad was enough to guarantee that, even without the fact that it had been a betrayal.
The albino took the opportunity of having the blindfold removed to look around the room that he was in. This room he recognized, it was a bunker that had been built in case of the bombing of Berlin. It was grey brick room built to be sturdy, not comfortable. However, the rigging to hold Prussia in this position was new. He looked up at his own hands, partially to assure himself that they were still there.
He had long since lost feeling in them, and looking at them now confirmed that they were exceptionally pale, even slightly blue. If he was mortal, this would have caused significant nerve damage. But, the pain in his arms and shoulders was more pressing considering that his immortality meant he could recover from almost anything. It was burning pain, and it would only intensify with time. But, it would be welcome to distract him from what was still haunting him. Did Russia really think that he was special? He couldn't answer that until the Russian returned.
