Corainder and Feverfew Chapter 10

(I'm going to warn everyone now, this chapter is slightly disturbing.)

The blood-soaked razor blade was still clutched in Lithuania's shivering, shaking hands when he rose to his feet. The place where General Mud had previously been lying...was empty. It was as if, as soon as Lithuania had 'killed' the man, he had dissapeared, melting into the door he leaned against, along with all his blood and filth. The only remaining blood was that on Lithuania's body; it was soaked in big, scarlet patches along the black and white lace of his maid's outfit, covered his hands completely, and seeped into the undersides of his fingernails. Agony shot through the Baltic's back when he moved still. He knew why - Russia must have whipped him - but he had no memory whatsoever of the arctic nation doing so. Gritting his teeth, Lithuania snarled, "Give me back reality." and he unlocked, and yanked open the bathroom door.

Standing outside, with a bitter smirk on his face, stood Russia. His eyes seemed to widen slightly as he scanned Lithuania's body up and down - surveying the blood stains - and his lips parted to reveal his pale, white teeth. "Oh," The word flitted from his mouth quietly, and his grin grew lopsided; it was sorrowful, although it was a grin all the same. "Lithuania, what have you done?" He asked, slightly giggling as he did so. Swaying, the arctic nation came forwards, pushing his servant out of his way with graceful ease and then proceeding to look into the bathroom. He seemed confused for a moment, and then he looked back. "What were you doing?" He asked again, this time, in a demanding tone. His eyes scoured Lithuania's body once more.

Unnerved by Russia's blank, unfeeling stare, Lithuania took a step back, clutching the razor tighter in his fist. "Killing." He responded, cold creeping into his voice. "Killing General Mud." His mouth broke into a smirk then, and he gestured erratically towards the blood upon his clothing. "Isn't it obvious that I was killing by the blood coating my frame?"

With a giggle, Russia tilted his head to one side, causing his light gray-blonde hair to fall a little over one of his dark purple eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Litva." He chuckled darkly in response. "The only blood that's on you, is on your back." His lips seemed to twitch with amusement at that, and he pointed down at Lithuania's hand. "What were you planning on doing with that razor?" He prodded. "You know you're only allowed to shave when supervised."

Gritting his teeth together, the Baltic looked once more down at his dress. The delectable red that had lacerated his body only moments before...was gone, as if nothing had ever happened, as if General Mud had only been a figment of his imagination...

The realization hit him so hard that he almost fell over. What if General Mud was a figment of his imagination this whole time? What if his whole previous life had been a figment of his imagination? Tears sprang to his eyes at the thought of loosing all the positive feelings he had once possessed, and at the thought of loosing that sweet Russia who had cared for him (not to mention his irresistible sister...), and loosing his virginity, and all other dignities he had. This Russia was beaming down at him with a sadistic grin not fit for any human being to behold. This Russia was happy that he was suffering, and that he looked ready to cry now. This Russia... This is not Russia. Lithuania thought suddenly. This. Is not. Russia. "I hate you." Lithuania snapped, staring boldly up at Russia with eyes like a cracking, frozen lake. "You monster."

For once, Russia's fake smile fell; it was the first time Lithuania had saw it do so since he had entered this new, strange world. However, a moment later, the smile was back up, more devious and full of evil than before. "Ah, I see," He chuckled, "Litva needs a lesson on 'love' again, da?" and he lunged forwards, hands grabbing.

Letting out a shriek, Lithuania raised the razor he was clutching so desperately. This will be nothing! He told himself as one of Russia's hands clasped itself into his hair. You just killed a man, finish him! He is not the Russia you know! The other hand was sailing towards Lithuania's wrist, meant to restrain him from fighting back. All I have to do is stab him. The Baltic told himself. Now. NOW! He slashed the blade forwards, but fumbled at the last moment. He couldn't do it. The razor fell from his fingers and Russia's hand enclosed his wrist.

The larger country shoved him backwards, and slammed his already aching back into the hallway wall. Lithuania let out a strangled sob, and in return, Russia laughed in his face. "I know you're already in pain." He said quietly. "Apologize, and tell me you love me, and then I won't hurt you." His smile turned almost sweet when he said that, and, releasing Lithuania's wrist, but keeping a tight hold of his hair, Russia reached his free hand forwards and stroked the man's face.

It was an easy thing to do - it was only words - and Lithuania was not going to pass on a chance to avoid pain. He wasn't foolish; he could lie for this psychotic Russia. "I love you." He hissed under his breath, obviously not enthused by having to do so. "And I'm sorry." He didn't look at Russia when he spoke, and his body shook. He no longer noticed that he trembled, it was just a reaction, and he wasn't shaking from fear this time. He was just shaking, plain and simple; it was like a disease. When Russia still did not release him, Lithuania turned his gaze upwards. "Well," He muttered. "I said what you wanted."

The Russian's gaze was anything but pleased. His very expression showed what he was feeling at the moment: surprise and disappointment. He had not expected Lithuania to actually apologize, he had expected him to fight, and deny. "Hmf..." His lips twisted together into a scowl, and his eyebrows came down upon his face, slanting unhappily above his dark purple eyes. Finally, he returned to his normal, grinning self, and chirped. "Good. Now, you will show me that you love me." Whistling with merriment, he proceeded to lock his hand as tight as possible upon Lithuania's head, and drag him.

Lithuania's heels dug into the floor, and he tried to twist away, but it only ended up causing him more pain, so eventually he just walked along with Russia. "What do you mean by that?" He kept asking, over and over again, but Russia wouldn't say anything more. "What do you mean by that?" Lithuania repeated again, not knowing how many times he had asked the question. His answer was Russia jerking open the door to his bedroom and throwing Lithuania inside.

A yelp of displeasure escaped the Baltic's lips as his knees smacked into the hardwood floor. He slid forwards a bit, reaching out to steady himself, and catching the edge of Russia's bed in his hand. With tears in his eyes, he looked back over his shoulder, glaring upon Russia. "What do you mean by that?" He whispered, feeling deflated on the inside, as if all in guts had been pulled out, and his blood had dissipated. Deep inside his soul, Lithuania knew what was going to happen, somehow, he knew. Sick, disturbing memories, that he never knew existed started inching their way into his brain...

"Now, Litva," Russia purred, standing in front of his servant - no, now, his slave - and grinning wickedly so that all his perfect, white teeth showed like a bunch of freshly polished swords. "seeing you are already on your knees..." The arctic nation chuckled, a deep, devious rumble in his chest. "You can either show me your love from there...or I can take it from you from somewhere else."

A hiss escaped Lithuania's lips, "W-what...?" but, all along, he had known this was coming, he knew this was coming, he felt this was coming, and yet he didn't fight hard enough, he couldn't stab Russia with the razor! Oh god, oh god, oh god... Those were the only two words racing through his mind at the moment, as he stared up at Russia, glassy-eyed, wide-eyed, and watched, as the arctic nation tossed his huge coat away, and slid his hand down towards the front of his pants.

N-NE! It felt as if he were going to be sick, and his mouth opened and closed with shock and nausea. I don't love you, I can't love you, I... "Ne..." The word escaped his mouth in a whisper as the clothing covering the lower half of Russia's body came off. "Ne..!"

XXXX

"Ne! Ne! Ne, stop, please, I don't want to!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, feeling as if his breath were being pulled out of him along a fishing line. Suddenly, he was laying down, and his heart was pounding against his rib cage. Something cool was pressed upon his forehead. Oh god, oh god, what is it? He wondered. What is he doing to me? But when he reached up to touch it lightly, it was only a wet rag... Further observation made him realize, he was back, in the house he had been living in, with the sane Russia who resided there.

Said country was standing over him, a sad expression upon his face. "Litva? You woke up!" He chirped in an exasperated sort of way, bending down to run his fingers along the length of Lithuania's jawline. "I was so scared, and I-I thought maybe I hurt you-"

Sharp hooks dug themselves into Lithuania's heart, tugging him backwards. He could feel the thin line between this reality (if it was a reality) and the alternate one overlapping. Tears ran down his face. "Russia, please, stop it!" He begged, reaching one quivering, pale hand upwards and stretching it towards this Russia. This Russia that, maybe, he loved. I don't care if this whole world is fake! I want to stay in it! He thought despairingly.

Smiling softly, Russia took a hold of his hand, twining their fingers together. "What's the matter, Litva?" He asked quietly, sadness sparkling in his lovely, innocent, violet eyes. "You screamed that you hated me, Litva, and then your whole body...it changed, and you started shaking, and you wouldn't come back to me. I-I'm sorry that I kissed you, I didn't mean to hurt you! I didn't mean to break you!" Tears budded in Russia's own eyes as they met his subordinates, slowly leaking out and sliding down his face.

Arching his back in pain, Lithuania whimpered, "I didn't say it to you!" He opened his mouth, trying to say more, but he was cut off. Russia's hand suddenly was jerked away from him, or so it seemed, and his body lost feeling. The world faded to black, and pain returned, sharper than before, to Lithuania's senses.

XXXX

He refused to open his eyes. Feeling was enough. Behind the darkness of his closed eyelids, Lithuania felt that he had lost the battle. In whatever length of time he had just been not there with Russia, the man had taken control over him. He could feel it.

Sticky tears clung to his face, but no more would come; it seemed as if his tear ducts had dried up during the ordeal. What did I ever do, to deserve this? Lithuania cried inside, trying to ignore the sensation of Russia in his mouth, trying to pretend like he wasn't choking every time the man moved, and trying to bring himself back to the place he had just been in. Russia's hand was knotted harshly into Lithuania's hair, and he was jerking at his head painfully. Lithuania thought he was going to throw up, and he found himself thinking back to Russia sister, Belarus, and he imagined her bursting through the door at any moment, and throwing her brother aside to rescue Lithuania. Of course, it was an irrational fantasy. I would have more of a chance of being saved by Mud. He thought, shaking, and suddenly wishing he hadn't killed the man.

From above him, he heard Russia snarl, "Open your eyes, Lithuania. Open your eyes and look at me. Open them, and see what you've become."

It was then that a thought drifted into Lithuania's mind, although he couldn't tell whether it was rational or not. Russia was yelling at him to look again, and so Lithuania, slowly, began opening his eyes. He tilted them upwards as far as he could, trying to see just Russia's face. The man was leering down at him with a horrible, twisted smile. Something warm and revolting began trickling down Lithuania's throat...and then he bit down. Hard.

The screams of another nation had never sounded so sweet.

XXXX

Panting, Lithuania jolted upright and away from the bed. He didn't know what time it was, but it appeared to be morning, as the sunlight was streaming lazily through the window. Russia was no longer in the room, which scared the Baltic the slightest bit. On shaky feet, he rose from the bed. There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and the edges of his lips were sticky; he tried to ignore those factors the best as he could, for after all, in this world, it couldn't be the same substance as the latter.

Gagging slightly, the disturbed Baltic made his way into the bathroom, where almost at once he fell to his knees, bent over the toilet, and threw up. His stomach contracted in painfully, sending shivers throughout his spine and hot and cold chills through his skin, while his throat and nose burned as acidic liquid exited them. When he was done, Lithuania didn't want to move. He simply sank to the bathroom floor and lay there, his cheek pressed against the cool tile. His vocal chords felt to weak to speak purposelessly, so in his mind he thought No more...no more...no more...

It must have been an hour before Russia came in and discovered him there. His gaze turned into sympathy when he saw the other country lying there, and he knelt upon the floor, hands reaching out tentatively to scoop Lithuania into his arms. His breath tickled Lithuania's ear when he stood, still holding him, and asked, "What are you doing in here?" His eyebrows furrowed with worry and confusion.

Attempting to wipe the yuck from his face, Lithuania's body went into a series of quivers, and he clutched at the arctic nation's coat desperately. "Please don't let him take me back." He whispered hoarsely, limbs aching with weakness. "Please...It's not my fault..."

Frowning, Russia carried his subordinate into his bedroom, and set him upright on the edge of the bed. "What isn't you r fault?" He questioned quietly, eyes glittering with childish innocence. "I don't understand."

Not knowing how to explain, Lithuania only gasped, "He was raping me, he was raping me..." while shuddering immensely. The trauma of it all still clung like determined spiderwebs inside his mind. He rocked back and forth on the bed, trying to block it out, trying to remain where he was now. It was all a dream, all a dream. He begged for the present state he was in to be reality so hard it hurt his chest. Russia will keep me safe. Russia won't hurt me.

Calloused hands took a hold on either side of Lithuania's face, and Russia brought his head forwards, so that their foreheads were touching. "Litva," He said. "No one is going to touch you. No one will hurt you. It was just a bad dream. It was all a dream."

It was so tempting to cling to that, to say that he was still sane, and all the wicked things that had occurred to him were only dreams...but then Lithuania remembered. Biting his lip, he pulled away from Russia's grasp. "No." He growled, eyes hard and slanted. "It's not." Taking a deep breath, he asked the question he had been wondering for the longest time. "That time you found me bloody, that time you saved me, and tended my wounds, that time I slept in the same bed as you...who hurt me Russia? Tell me, I beg you. Provide something, anything, to prove it wasn't you. Who hurt me, Russia? Was it him? Did you see him?" Breathless, the Baltic waited for answers.

For a moment, Russia's face grew dark. His light-colored violet eyes seemed to turn into ominous storm-clouds of a deep ameythest, which was beautiful, yet appeared deadly. His mouth twitched into a frown, and his hands clenched into fists. "Litva," He murmured quietly. "What is wrong with you? Why can't you remember?" His voice gradually turned into a snarl, causing Lithuania to flinch backwards.

Sniffling, Lithuania replied, "I-I don't k-know." No, not this Russia too, don't let him collapse...he's the last sane thing I can cling to. "I need feverfew." He blurted half-heartedly. "I just need the meaning, and then I can save myself, don't you see?" Sweat dampened his forehead as he spoke, and his fingers twitched at his side. "Save me..." He begged.

The darkness around Russia's form diminished. He launched himself forwards, and clung to Lithuania, hugging him tighter than he ever had. It hurt the Baltic, admittedly, as the arctic nation was exceedingly strong, but all the same, it was the best pain he had felt in a long while. With that one embrace, some of his sanity seemed to return. Russia's face was pressed into his chest, and he whimpered, "Go to sleep, go to sleep, Litva, and when you wake up I'll give you whatever you want...go to sleep and get rest and then come back to me as you were...go to sleep and I'll chase them away." The way he said them made Lithuania shiver. It was as if he knew something about what was happening.

"Russia," Lithuania hissed through his teeth. "You know something." Memories frolicked to the Baltic's mind, of General Winter. 'You are here because of Vanya. It really is all his fault.' The words made Lithuania feel squeamish inside. "What do you know, Russia? Tell me, what did you do?"

Instead of answering, Russia pushed Lithuania flat upon his back. "I don't know what you're talking about." He snapped, although it was still spoken softly. "Go to sleep, Toris. Go to sleep...your master commands it." Long, icy fingers ran through Lithuania's feathery soft hair then, and Russia gave him a sad, sad smile.

So we're to play this game again? Lithuania pondered, knowing that, if he fell asleep, there was a chance he would never awake in this world again...but even while he was awake, he knew he could be stolen there at any moment, so he supposed it didn't matter either way. "Yes, master." He grumbled, spitting out the last word in the same matter Russia always did. "Just...don't let me be in this ridiculous outfit when I wake up..."

Nodding with understanding, a tiny smile appeared on Russia's lips. "Da..." He whispered, and then he leaned over, and kissed Lithuania on the forehead. "Goodnight, Litva." He murmured, and he remained beside the bed until his subordinate fell asleep - even though it was only the afternoon, and the sun was still streaming through the windows.

XXXX

Surprisingly, the dream did not return Lithuania into the wretched reality with abusive Russia. Instead, it brought him to a strange, yet familiar, house. The place was quite grand inside, indeed, and many expensive items of no use littered the place. Looking around, Lithuania gaped in awe. It was such a lovely place...

A loud voice startled him from his awe. "What are you doing, gaping around like an idiot?" A harsh voice asked, and someone hit him from behind. Shocked, Lithuania spun around, half expecting Russia's boss to be standing there, only it was not, it was the Mongolian Empire. After blinking for a moment, Lithuania realized that he was so small compared to Mongolia...smaller than he remembered. Mongolia glared at him darkly. "Go shovel the snow in the front of the house. It's blocking the door, and I can't get outside."

Without intending to, Lithuania's body nodded. "Yes, master." He said dumbly, striding past the Mongolian Empire. He trodded through the grand house, his feet and hands shaking and hurting with each painful step he took, and went to the front door. I am not in control of this body. He thought to himself, as his hands moved without him telling them to, and opened a trunk, pulling out a new-looking snow shovel. Nodding with approval, he opened the door, and stepped out into the world.

It was freezing outside, and his clothes offered him no protection from the elements. They were obviously nice clothes for what he supposed he was - a slave - but they were more for show than anything else; wispy amounts of cloth pieced together to make him look appeasing. Sighing, Lithuania began to shovel. The snow seemed so heavy, and each time he moved he was greeted with fresh pains from various parts of his body. I know who I am. His brain was quietly whispering. Muscovy. He tried to push the guilt away from his mind, tried to ignore the fact that he knew where all the bruised littered young Russia's body...and some places the boy was bruised where a child should not be bruised.

After half an hour of shoveling snow, Lithuania was sure his lungs were about to collapse into the crisp, iciness of the air. He was almost about to cry, and he felt like he was choking - he was too tiny, he couldn't take this! - and letting out a cry, he sank to his knees, shivering.

"Ivan."

The word made him raise his head. Strands of light yellow hair fell into his face, sticking to his freezing perspiration. In front of him stood a colossal form of a man... He grinned when he saw Muscovy staring at him, and reached out one gloved hand, placing it on the boy's forehead. "You want out of this misery, don't you?" He asked, although it was more of a statement.

Shuddering, Lithuania wished that he could pull away, but Muscovy didn't seem to mind the awful cold way that General Winter's hand felt upon him, instead he whimpered, reaching his own battered hands up to clutch the man's sleeve. "More." He whined, "Give me more." and he tilted his head back, letting General Winter's fingers brush along his face. "I want." He whispered hoarsely.

A cruel laugh rumbled out of General Winter's throat. "I could give you more." He chuckled. "Or you can let me fix everything...you know that I can mend this, I can make it all go away. All you have to do, is pick the right flowers, Vanya."

"Nyet." The word escaped Muscovy's lips like a rabid dog's growl. "It's cheating that way...nyhn..." He trailed off, lost in a world of bliss, as General Winter's hand fluttered lower, and the ice-cold, damp fabric of his glove pressed against his throat. Inside his mind, Lithuania was recoiling with disgust. What is this... He watched General Winter with a wariness in his gaze, wanting to stomp the man's face into powder. Why did you do this? "You make my pain go away enough, when you don't hurt me...you love me, don't you, Winter?" Muscovy clutched despairingly at General Winter's arm. "You love...?"

Sighing, General Winter tugged his hand away. "Alas, I could never love something so pathetic." He giggled. "Maybe, if you let me change things, I could love you." His mouth contorted into a grin then, and he knelt upon the ground, his snowy white hair fluttering about. Lithuania noticed he looked younger than when he had recently seen him. "Don't you want me to love you?" He asked. "No one else will ever. Mongolia sees you as an object, a whore and a slave, and Lithuania cares more about Poland than he ever will you. No one will ever love you like I can, sweetling." General Winter laughed and grabbed Muscovy by both of his shoulders, pulling him near and looking him directly in the face with his pure white, pupiless eyes. "Don't you want?" He inquired, his voice barely a whisper, crisp and slightly minty upon Muscovy's face.

Lithuania felt all the precious, small amount of heat in Muscovy's body rush to his cheeks. The boy went stiff all over, then he relaxed within General Winter's grip, closing his eyelids and letting his head fall back slightly. "I do want..." He squeaked meekly. Inside the house, the Mongolian Empire was yelling, and Lithuania had a feeling that he would emerge outside at any moment. Just shovel, shovel the snow, Muscovy, stop... He pleaded, but the child's heart was racing too fast; he was so afraid of his master that his whole body trembled.

"Make up your mind now." General Winter said emotionlessly, as footsteps neared the front door.

No, no, no, no!

"You could change your fate, your past, you could change the world." The frozen man continued, chuckling. "Just give me an answer: yes, or no?"

Tears ran down the child's face, becoming icy, frozen streams upon his skin. He shook harder now, trying desperately to make open his mind in time. Don't do it, Muscovy, I'll come back, I promise, I'll stop this, I'll save you! Lithuania vainly tried to convey his thoughts to this innocent, younger version of Russia. "I...I..." Muscovy stammered unable to decide what he wanted. "I love you, General Winter." He whined, but the man's countenance didn't alter; it was as if he hadn't even heard him.

"SLAVE!" The door slammed open and Mongolia stood there, his fur coat swaying sideways in the chilling breeze, and making him look all the more grand, and menacing. His braided hair blew in the wind as well, giving him an almost graceful appearance...but his eyes threw everything off. His eyes were slanted with fury, and the iris was the color of yellow puss, with specks of mucus-shaded brown in them. "Why are you not shoveling snow?" He screamed, blind to the fact that General Winter was standing right before him.

I promise I'll protect you... Muscovy opened his mouth in horror, and his eyes flickered between Mongolia, and General Winter. Lithuania heard his own thought's pop into his brain: A chance to change your fate. He thought, and then, whipping around to face Winter, he screamed."DA!"

Yay, I forced myself to finish this in one day! :_; Once more, I was threatened with Mongolians, which means I have to update by the next day, or else they will invade my home.

This chapter is even weirder than the last, oh but you can think the Princess - SarentoKensei - for forcing me to update so soon. ^_^; Also, since she so nobly mentioned me in the author's note of her story, I am now going to mention her. No. Scratch that. I am going to tie nooses around your necks and drag you onto her profile.

Moving on; she is a really good writer, and she made something amazing, that I didn't think was possible, happen inside me. She made me actually like Belarus. Thus, due to her completely lovable, and hateable, convincing characters and delectable stories, I highly encourage you (with whips included) to go and check out her stories. She is probably the only reason I update so often, so thank her. v_v And read Frozen Sorrows. Belarus. In that one. I was just...I couldn't... I don't know why. ._. You will no longer hate her. I promise.

Ok, sorry for being a spammer. *troll face* I know ya'll love me though (I don't know) but that's ok... See you next update~!

(P.S. I hate this chapter for rushing...)