Chapter 10

The palace was in shambles. Wallpaper and tapestries ripped from the walls, paintings cracked and burned, smoke stains etched on doorframes and seared into curtains. I stepped over debris, glass shards, pebbles that once were statuary, shaking my head. I climbed the stairs to join the others, but each returned with the same news: all destroyed, all looted, all burned.

"What a waste," I said.

"It's delightful!" Chechnya cackled. "All that's left of Imperial Russia."

She waved a hand towards the grand foyer. Russia sat in the middle of the shattered marble floor, gazing off at nothing.

"What do we do now?" Latvia whispered, rubbing his arms. "Winter will be here soon. Where will we go?"

"Home."

Russia's voice echoed across the empty, broken space. He turned his head and looked up at his household. And he smiled a small, tired smile.

"You will all go home. I cannot protect you. I cannot hold you here. You must go home and do what you will. Maybe someday…"

He stopped, shrugged, and turned back to looking at nothing.

Estonia and Latvia smiled at each other and at me. They left, giving Russia polite nods as they passed him. Ukraine took a step forward, but was stopped by Belarus.

"We cannot leave Big Brother now, sister." She said, pulling her into the shadows of the hallway. "We must wait and see what happens."

Chechnya laughed gleefully and skipped down the stairs. She gave Russia a single pat on the head on her way out. Russia grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"What are you doing?" she screamed, kicking at him and twisting in his grip. "You told us all to go home! Let me go!"

"Not you, Chechnya," Russia said, smiling blandly at her. "You have been trouble for a long time. I do not like trouble. I must think of what to do with you. Belarus! Ukraine!"

His sisters flanked the screaming girl, dragging her away as she cursed and spit.

Georgia blinked at me and took my arm. She shook as we walked down the stairs. We reached Russia and she pulled me to a stop. She kneeled next to Russia, pulling me down with her. He did not look at us at first, intent on his far away subject. He blinked and turned his bright eyes on Georgia and me.

"Oh, hello," he said, smiling. "You will also go, da?"

"You want us to go?" Georgia placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You must go," Russia said. He shrugged, and brushed away Georgia's hand. He turned away.

"Come, Georgia," I said. She nodded, and made to rise.

"Wait!" Russia grabbed me and pulled me into his arms, squeezing me close. "I will do what I can to protect you, Lithuania. No matter what. I love you, my friend." He kissed me, pushed me away, patted my cheek and let me go. And then, oh. I witnessed one of Russia's finest cruelties.

"Georgia, you cannot go until I give you my gift." He fumbled in his greatcoat pockets.

Georgia glanced at me, startled.

"Gift, Russia?" she said. "I don't understand."

"You asked me once what I part of me I give," he said, pulling a thin square box from an inner pocket. "I take and take but never give. Well here you are, a gift!"

He presented the box. Georgia took it gingerly, hesitated a moment, then opened it. Resting on tissue paper was a golden oval locket. The detailing on the locket was that of sunflowers waving on a hill near the sea.

"Go on, open it," he said, his soft smile not quite matching his shining eyes. Georgia tried to hide her troubled look as she pulled the locket open. She gasped and shut it quickly, her cheeks flaring red.

"Russia, this is…this is an actual piece of…"

Russia grabbed the necklace from Georgia's hand and deftly opened the tiny clasp with his large fingers.

"You hold my heart, Georgia," he said. "You have always. And now here." He placed the locket over her neck and clasped it closed. "Here. Now you will carry a part of my heart everywhere you go."

Georgia shuddered. She grasped the locket, as if to pull it from her neck, but instead rolled it in her hand. Something...changed, then. Her eyes were soft and round, a tinge of shine sparkling beneath the black. She smiled at Russia tenderly.

"Oh Russia," she said. "Must I go?"

He took her hand once more.

"Not forever, I promise," he said. "You are sunshine, Georgia. You are warmth and greenery. You are sunflowers."

He kissed her, pulling his hand through her black curls.

I narrowed my eyes and stood, pulling Georgia away from Russia.

"It's time to go," I said, glaring at Russia. "What did you do?"

Russia shrugged and smiled.

"Goodbye, my love!" Georgia cried as I dragged her from the broken palace. She blew kisses at him as he waved, smiling. "Goodbye! Das vydanya!"

When she was out of his view, she leaned against me as if drunk.

"Oh, he is crazy!" she said. She laughed, low, rumbling chuckles that never ended. She played with the locket, sawing it across her neck. "He is mad! He is mad!"

Ukraine told me later of Russia's time alone. For two years he sat in the foyer, not moving to eat or drink. From time to time Ukraine would deliver a meal, or throw a blanket around him, but there was no sign that he left his seat. He let snow drift around his boots in the winter, and let birds perch on his shoulders in the summer, looking off to some distant spot, unresponsive. Two years he was battered by wind and rain and cold. His coat was haggard and stained, the leather of his boots cracking in the sun.

And then one day, he snapped back. He looked around the remains of his former home, looked down at his blue and red coat.

"This is no good," he said with a smile, unbuttoning the coat and tossing it on the floor. He stood, shook dust from his hair, and walked away from the palace. "Time for a change."