Welcome to my re-write! Lately I can never just finish a chapter. It ALWAYS starts over. Great way to work. Very Productive :)
Alright, I'm excited! Genuinely excited to write! I know, right?! In this...section of the story I have A LOT I want to try to cram in. Because there are so many characters, relationships, and plot points I want to discover, I decided to leave Liechtenstein out of it, as she'd just be another layer for me to deal with. I have done some research (reading up on the Wikis of all the characters involved. Some interesting things there. Most of the behaviors I'll write here are canon), actually planned this out in detail, and it seems Prussia shall be staying with Russia for 3.5 chapters if my writing goes as planned. Hint hint, wink wink, it's already not going as planned. Haha. Now, with as much opportunity as there is here for a story, I could easily make Prussia stick around for a whole novel, as my inspiration for this section has done (Behind the Berlin Wall by hetaliasanguis - It's unfinished but it's fabulous and does a much better job of explaining this than I will), but I'll cut it down for the sake of the rest of the story. So, let us swan-dive into the action!
This story is getting to be longer and longer. My original plan was 6 chapters. LOL!
These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal - Chapter 10
Prussia awoke, not sure where he was, as it was a long drive from Barcelona to Moscow. He wished his heart beat would shut up. It was doing a very good job of keeping the man from thinking clearly, which he needed to do, given his situation. Even after his nap, it was beating very roughly in his chest, so much so that it was slightly pulsating a chord on Prussia, a chord that crossed over his chest and behind his head. Where the chord touched his ear, all he could hear was rapid thumping. He attempted to shift to the side, and away from the chord, but was simply met with another of the seven chords being used to tie him to the back seat of a certain Russian man's truck. A Russian man who was now glaring at him through the rear-view window, seemingly not pleased he had moved. Prussia ceased motion until Russia stopped looking at him and refocused on the road, smiling and humming. He dared then only move his face, it falling into a deep scowl on the other man's back.
Verdammt Russian.
Why was Prussia in the back of his truck? Why was Prussia forced into the back of his truck? Why was his body now touching the fuzzy seats that the Russian man had at some point, no doubt, touched himself? Why was he being subjected to this? His scowl deepened, unpleasant lines of a chord digging into his cheeks as he did so. He recalled Russia oh-so-easily pushing him back down into his seat when he tried to escape.
"Come on, Prussia, you have to stay in the car or I will lose track of you!" he reasoned, that condescending grin never wavering. The once Great, with a capital "G", empire of Prussia, was now 100 percent defenseless in the back of a bumping Chevrolet [1]. It was pathetic. He'd just finally gotten over his fear of Ru-
No, his displeasure with Russia during the last war. He'd thought it all out; when they were kids, who was weaker? Russia. Who lost to him at war? Russia. Who as alone, disliked, and bitter because of it? Russia. Who had a loving little brother to protec-
to...support him? Prussia. So Russia had zero upper hands, Prussia had an unlimited amount of them. He'd thought it all out, but now, now that he couldn't get away, lean on anyone else, or even fight back, that logic didn't seem to apply. He was disgusted that he'd let himself fall into this trap, angry that his friends betrayed him, irate that they'd only did it because they were scared of Russia, and pissed that now he could feel that fear resurfacing. Discomfort his left arschbacke [2], he was scared, horrified even a the prospect of staying with this psychopathic man for more than five seconds. His stomach twisted and turned in discomfort every time the man so much as glanced at him! Resistance was futile, as he was too weak to even move. He hated it, and he hated himself for it.
It was with these bitter thoughts, and the loud beat of his frightened heart, that the Prussian man drifted back into his fitful sleep. Long drive indeed.
The last chord, this one striped blue and green, was pulled from the Prussian's lap and immediately wrapped around his neck. As if by leash, Prussia was ripped from the Chevy and onto a snow-covered driveway.
"Welcome to my home, Malyutka! I am hoping you are to be liking it!" [3] It was a grand mansion, formed of beige stones, covered in a thick layer of snow and frost, with a shadow of gloom over top it and surrounded on all sides by an iron fence. A very welcoming sight, to say the least.
"It's great," the Prussian deadpanned as his leach was tugged. He tried to resist gagging as he was dragged, by the throat, towards this place's door. He was not released from the chord until the Russian had walked inside, locked the door, taken off his snow boots, set down Prussia's bag, taken off his jacket (to reveal underneath, another jacket), walked Prussia into a sitting room, and pushed him to the ground. He had a nice ring of red on his neck, and, not wanting to irritate that further, the Russian man got down on his knees and leaned over the fallen nation. He pulled a knife from one of the many inner pockets of his jacket, a small dagger, and went to cut the rope. It would help not further the rope-burn, as untying it may hurt his new comrade. The Prussian, however, was lost to this fact, and felt his blood run very cold at the sight of a blade coming near his skin. He froze, and stared at it wide eyed, until he was released and freed to breath properly again; this didn't mean his heart stopped trying to beat out of its beholder's chest though.
"There. Now you are not tied any longer. You're welcome," The Russian commented, seeming to forget or ignore the fact that he was the one who'd tied him up in the first place, "I will go check up on the rest of the house." He stood and made his way back to the door he'd come in from. He pushed it open and stood in the door frame for a moment, before a blackish-violet...presence...had surrounded his body. He smiled back into the room, which now felt cold as ice, and addressed Prussia in such a way that the poor albino man almost pissed his pants and died from fright.
"I do hope you are still here when I return, Malyutka. You have my trust, for now."
The door squeaked shut. Prussia stared at it from the ground for a while before letting his head drop, and curling up into a small ball on the floor.
"Oh God," he murmured in his native language, "what have I gotten into?"
It took the Prussian man longer than he'd like to admit to get off the ground. He laid there, scared for his seemingly bleak future, for an un-awesome span of time, and then slowly uncurled. He stood, made his way to the couch, sat down, and seemed to actually notice the house for the first time.
All of the countries were given money by their governments, often times a lot of it, to buy their home or homes. What Prussia could not figure out, was why after buying such a grandiose mansion, Russia didn't seem to want to spend a cent on decorations. Most of what he'd seen so far was bleak and bland with off-white walls, minimal furniture, and simple, dark, hardwood flooring. The room he was currently in, for example, had a thin layer of cream-colored paint, one blue armchair, another blue couch, a deep brown bookcase to match the floors, with none but three books on it, and a simple, Persian rug. Nothing else. No pictures, no lamps, no mirrors, no additional furniture, no anything; except the little boy shivering in the corner, that is.
Prussia did a double take once he noticed him, and frowned. How long had the boy been there? Had he seen him...well...grieving quite embarrassingly on the rug?
"Hello," the Prussian tried. The boy's beaty, blue eyes shot to him, but he didn't speak, opting instead to silently study the other. Prussia stood from his blue seat and started to advance towards the boy. The boy's eyes widened as he stepped further and further back until he was hugging the wall and had no choice but to face the other man.
"Hello," he tried again, "I am the great, and awesome Prussia! Apparently, I live here now." Something he'd said made the boy settle. He smiled lightly, a cute, little grin he had, and extended a hand to shake.
"My name is Latvia. I also live here with Mr. Russia. I knew you when you were the Teutonic Knights, but I hear you're different now, so that's good." The Prussian took slight offence to this, but tried not to let anything else puncture his deflating ego.
"Well, it's nice to see you...again, Latvia," he smiled back, genuinely happy. This kid was just so...cute! He reminded him of someone. "You're a Baltic nation, right?"
"Oh, yes. I am the youngest of the three of us. Other than me there's the next oldest, Estonia. He makes himself very scarce, but will probably come to meet you. Mr. Russia did tell us you were coming and he likes to be proper. I doubt he'll stay long; he doesn't like to get in trouble, and figures he can't if he's not around. You might also get a chance to meet the eldest, Lithuania."
It seemed all of the Prussian's childhood was piling up on him in this house. Lithuania he'd known when he was still a Knight, and he wasn't exactly the kindest to him. The two had been going back and forth since, Prussia having more man-power, but Lithuania outsmarting him. Currently, they were tied in Prussia's little mind-game of victories, and he intended to keep it that way or take the lead.
"Lithuania is around quite a lot," Latvia continued, "but, lately he's made a new friend and I don't see him much." The boy got caught up in his speech, almost forgetting he was talking to someone he'd technically only just met despite knowing his past self, "He always used to help us out so much, me and Estonia, but now he's always busy. He helps his friend now. I wish he would come back to us. Without someone like him to learn from I don't know how I'm going to..." he looked up, "I'm sorry, Prussia. You probably didn't want to hear my life story."
"No, it's alright."
"I just have trouble holding my tongue sometimes."
"I really don't kind kid," he said, pacing a hand on the boy's head. His hair was noticeably soft to the touch. "What else can you tell me about this place?"
"Well, aside from us three Baltics, another team of three, Mr. Russia and his two sisters are here. Mrs. Belarus is the youngest, and she's very scary. I don't like to talk about her like that, but if she decides she doesn't like you, you might be in trouble. Then, the oldest, Ukraine, is actually very nice." Prussia noticed an inconsistency: Russia was called Mr. Russia, Belarus was called Mrs. Belarus...despite not being married, and Ukraine, and himself so he realized, were called Ukraine and Prussia instead of Mrs. Ukraine and Mr. Prussia. He almost opened his mouth to ask about it, but the Latvian continued, and he decided it was more important to soak up all the information he could get. "She makes good porridge and smiles a lot. However, she's prone to crying, and Mr. Russia doesn't like to see her cry. If she cries, comfort her or run away, because it won't be good if Mr. Russia thinks you're the culprit. I guess you three will make the last trio."
"Us three?" Before the Latvian could continue, a knock was heard at the door, which shortly after swung open. In the frame now stood a bespectacled, black haired, fine-looking, young man. He was dressed in a forest green, to match his deep eye color, and held a gentle smile. Equip with a briefcase, and adjusting his tie, he looked ready for a very official conference call, or to host a meeting, or something of the sort.
"Hello," the man greeted, mostly to Prussia before nodding at Latvia, "I am Estonia. We welcome you to the home, Prussia."
"Hey, nice to meet you!" Prussia took a couple of steps in advance towards the man before freezing. A small, white, blob-ular...thing crawled or rolled or hobbled or whatever it's pattern of movement was out from behind Estonia's leg. It seemed to smile at Prussia, before randomly growing a disgusting set of legs, not at all proportionate to its body shape. It took a few steps towards Prussia, who was still frozen in place, staring at it wide eyed, before Estonia stooped to pick it up. It retracted its legs and smiled at him before winking under glasses. A small flag popped out from the side of it's...head? Body? The flag was too small for Prussia to make out but based on the colors it was French, American, English, or maybe, considering where they were, Russian. The creature started to move, seemingly pleased by Estonia's touch, and a single, yellow, cowlick of hair on it's head/body started to bob about.
"You'll have to excuse me for cutting our introduction short, Prussia. I must be putting him back now. He knows he's not supposed to be roaming." He said the last bit curtly to the creature.
"What is it?"
"I, well," Estonia looked from the blob, to Prussia, and back at the blob, "P-Please excuse me." And that was the end of Prussia's exposure to Estonia for the day.
"Hmp. He really is formal."
"Yes. Big brother Estonia will likely catch up with you later. Knowing him, he probably thinks his leaving like that was impolite."
"I'll excuse it, considering that...mess...he had with him." The Latvian giggled.
"I've tried asking him about those things," Latvia commented, putting new fear into Prussia that there was more than one of the creatures, "but he's very vague about where they come from or what they are."
"It was freaking weird." The Prussia replied, earning a laugh from his companion. He started to chuckle too, coercing the boy into even louder laughter, until all at once, the area dropped about ten degrees in temperature.
"What are weird?" a thick Russian accent asked, slicing through the room.
"N-Nothing Mr. Russia!" Latvia cried. He lost all of his prior resolve, the laughter dying in his throat. The boy stared pointedly at the ground, eyes wide, and not moving. Prussia observed this, and wondered if they were perhaps not allowed to talk about Estonia's creatures, or if Estonia wasn't supposed to have them, and Latvia was covering for him. It seemed to be the only explanation for the boy's sudden fright.
"I see," Russia commented, taking a step into the room. He walked right up to Latvia, and raised his hand. The boy jumped, but the hand was placed lightly on Latvia's now shaking shoulder. The two shared a few words in Russian, Russia smiling politely, Latvia not making eye contact, and twitching at the slightest of movements in the Russian's hand. Prussia felt his heart crumble as he watched the display. The big, scary Russian, had intimidated the joy right out of the peppy Latvian, and he now seemed to fear for his life. Poor kid. He needed a confidence boost, one his awesomeness himself would be glad to deliver, once the threat...to both of them...left the room. They chatted for a bit more until something Latvia had said made the Russian's face fall for about half a second.
"I'm sorry Mr. Russia! I didn't mean that! I just, I'm sorry! Please, continue!" Russia's smile slowly returned, and at the same time the room filled with the dark presence. His grip tightened painfully around the boy's shoulder as he continued to speak, but thankfully, Russia soon turned to leave, nodding at Prussia on his way out. Latvia stood, trembling, for a few seconds, before looking back up at Prussia.
"M-M-Mr. R-Russia...w...wants me to s-s-s-show you, a-around," he cleared his throat, and seemed to clear away his stutter at the same time, "come with me." The boy blinked, and smiled, trying to fake a calmness the Prussian could see he clearly did not have.
"Latvia, are you oka-"
"I will show you this level of the house first." He turned, and made his way out of the room, assuming Prussia would follow. The Prussian shrugged before advancing to catch up with the child. He was led out of the bland sitting room and down a narrow hall, they passed the stairs and the front door, but continued to walk to the door on the end of the hallway. It hadn't had a proper handle, simply a metal rectangle indicating the door could be pushed open. It also quite clearly told the Prussian it was the kitchen. When the door was pushed open, the aroma of a fresh meal hit the Prussian in the face making his stomach rumble; he hadn't eaten all morning. The cook turned out to be a woman with platinum blonde hair to her waist.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Belarus," Latvia greeted. Belarus raised a spoon from the pot she was stirring the contents of in greeting. "Clearly, Prussia, this is the kitchen. Mrs. Belarus is making lunch right now, and we usually all rotate on who's cooking based on what Mr. Russia wants."
"Okay, sounds good." The Prussian actually grinned to himself as Latvia led him back into the hall wondering when his turn to cook would come. Wurst and potatoes it would be, maybe a side of corn, maybe he'd get to make breakfast and whip up some pancakes. Any of them would be awesome! Maybe he wouldn't mind gracing this place with his presence as much as he thought he would. Latvia made a left leading him through another door into a sitting area; they simply glanced in before going on. All the rooms in the house were about the same; blocked off by a door instead of having an open floor plan, scarcely furnished, not at all decorated, and boring. After two more sitting rooms, Mr. Russia's office that he wasn't allowed to enter, a downstairs bathroom, and a coat closet, the Latvian led him upstairs. They headed towards the East wing and the blond pointed out Mr. Russia's and Mrs. Belarus' rooms, right next to one another, but didn't dare enter either. There was also a bathroom and another sitting area. In the middle of the east and west wing, just a bit from the stairs, was a library.
"Now this is pretty awesome," the Prussian said, easing into the room. It was two levels high and every inch of the curved walls was lined with books. Complete with a sliding latter, siting area, and two desks on the back wall, the grey-haired man could see himself working on his journal or reading for fun quite often in that room; wasn't much else to do here. After a moment more to gawk, he was led down to the west wing.
"This," Latvia began, "is where everyone stays." He gestured to the first door on the right. "Here is my room. I share with Estonia, but you'll rarely find him in there, or anywhere for that matter. Here," he pointed across the hall, "Lithuania lives. Next to him is Poland's room and across from that is where you will be staying. And over here," he turned around and pointed , "is where Hungary stays. She is usually, however, in Ukraine's room, right there. Tonight though, I know she's with Poland, in here." The boy opened up one of the plain doors and gestured inside. "There's more of the house I could show you, but I think you'd appreciate a moment to sit down. I'll move your things to your room, so, for now, just get yourself acquainted." He left, with the door to Hungary's room cracked open, and smiled one last time at Prussia before turning the corner and heading back in the direction of the stairs. Turns out the Teutonic Knights and Prussia really were different; the later was less of a jerk.
"...Hungary...is here? And Poland?"
"Prussia! Like, welcome to the party!" It was Poland who spoke. He sat on a rug in the center of the room, facing a single, twin-sized bed, with his legs opened, and a few books in-between them. A bold smile took his face as he flipped a lock of blonde from his view. Hungary, who was sitting on the bed, brushed some hair behind her ear as she looked, and stood.
"That I am," she commented. The woman walked to the opened door. "Hello, Prussia," she stated before doing one of the oddest things; wrapping her arms around his neck, not to choke, but simply hug him. For a moment, the albino was taken a-back, and looked to Poland for help. The Polish man only sniggered inside the room and continued to paint his nails atop one of the opened books.
"Hi, Hungary. W-What's going on?" She pulled away and smiled sweetly at him, the light glistening in her eyes. It was a big contrast from the literal kick in the face she'd given him last time they met.
"Nothing much going on, Poland and I are just talking. Come in, sit with us." She turned back and began making her way to the bed, the red eyed following. She winced as she tried to sit, seeming to have a fair bit of trouble with bending her leg at the hip connection. Prussia dove in, and grabbed the woman by the arm, lowering her into her seat on the bed, before taking one next to her. The three sat in silence for a couple seconds as Poland painted his nails, smiling to himself, and Hungary remained leaned on Prussia, smiling at him. Prussia didn't smile, and instead stared around awkwardly.
Something was off.
Last he'd seen of Poland, he was a bloody disaster on the ground, victimized by Prussia himself, his bruder, and Russia all at once. They teamed up on him, and beat the stubborn man to the ground. At the thought, a shiver hit the Prussian's spine; he remembered the sound of a cracking bone in a Polish body. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. Someone had to be sacrificed for his brother's sake. Now, the Polish man sat fully healed in the home of his abuser and was faced with another of the two, and was gleefully applying a second coat of purple as if nothing mattered. It made Prussia...feel...something. Something he didn't understand. Or like.
Then there was Hungary.
She was in pain, a pain in her hip, and she'd actually let it show. She actually accepted help when Prussia offered it. She touched Prussia, willingly. In front of someone else. Admittedly, they had grown closer since this whole "fading away" business, but the woman still half-hated him and had appearances to keep up. She was really only sweet to him in private.
So, what alternate dimension had the albino crossed into that caused these two to act like they'd forgotten who they were?
"Uhm, why are you staring at me?"
"Oh, I'm sorry Prussia," the woman commented, scooting away, "I'm just happy to see a familiar face. Welcome to Mr. Russia's."
"Thanks..." A silence lingered between the three.
"So, Prussia, what are you in for?" It was Poland who spoke.
"Uhm, I'm not entirely sure, but rumor 'round the block is that I am now the East half of Germany."
"Oh yes, I heard about that," Hungary commented.
"So basically, you're, like, in the same boat as us. Your government put you up as collateral to Stalin."
"When you say it like that, Poland, you make us sound like something to be purchased."
"No amount of money is enough to acquire all of this," Hungary commented, running both hands on her sides. The Polish nation in front of her laughed.
"You, like, know what'd make you better? If you let me paint your nails too."
"No! They'll just irritate me when they start to chip."
"How will they chip?"
"I don't know?! Knocking doors down, punching people in the face, taking pictures...?"
"Pictures of what?"
"Important news. Science. Nature watching."
"Oh, you mean gossip," he teased back. The Hungarian chuckled.
"You know how it is with Japan and Tai. We always have to be up to date."
"And you're planning on staying up to date while you're, like, stuck living here, boo?"
"Yes! Matter fact, did you hear about Spain, Belgium, and the Netherlands?!"
"Oh lord. What'd they, like, get themselves into now?" The two went on gossiping, giggling, and squealing like the true women they were, leaving an awkward Prussian man trapped in the middle of their conversation.
"She did NOT!"
"YES! And then, Spain starts texting Romano!"
"In the middle of their fight?! Was he, like, on crack?!"
"Must've been, because then Netherlands kicked him in the-"
"SO GUYS," the third wheel interjected, "what's it like here? At Russia's?"
"It's..." Hungary's mouth slowly lulled shut as she seemed at a loss.
"Hard?" the Prussian tried to complete.
More silence.
"Just," it was Poland who spoke, "do what you're told." Now, that was a surprise. Poland; the man who wore dresses instead of pants; the man who was obsessed with ponies, not horses, ponies; the man who insisted on making the translation of his country's name be 'boat' despite being land locked; the man who has yearly festivals of throwing straw dolls into the ocean and then setting them aflame for fun; this man, was urging Prussia to behave.
"Really, this coming from you?" the Hungarian giggled, seeming to be thinking the same thing, "You seem to love getting me into trouble!"
"That was one time! I'm sorry!"
"Oh right, right," the woman laughed, "but it's okay. I got you back, didn't I?" Poland cringed.
"So, how long have you two been here?" Prussia asked.
"Only a little while for me, like two weeks, and Hungary just got here four days ago."
"Is anyone else coming?"
"Doubt it, but we're, like, out of the-know, and such, for the most part. He only just told us you were joining a couple hours ago." The albino nodded, taking in this information.
"So, how are we gonna get out of here?" The Polish and Hungarian nations stared at him wide eyed before Poland hopped up, risking ruining his nail job, to shut the door.
"Prussia, we can't just up and leave," Hungary began, lowering her voice. Poland returned and keeled close in front of them making their communication circle very tight with whispering breaths bouncing off one another's faces.
We can't just leave," the Hungarian continued, "even if we could figure out how to escape. With the Russian winter raging right outside his house, and him on constant guard, I doubt we'd even survive an escape. We'd either be stuck in an eternal loop of healing, freezing to death again, dying, and re-healing, or Mr. Russia would find us out in the snow, bring us back, and..." a sour expression filled her face.
"Plus," the Polish man threw in, "there's our people to think about. Our governments promised Russia's boss, Stalin, that we'd be here, so Stalin and Russia will be pissed if we're not. I doubt that'll end well for the three of us." Prussia paused then, his expression twisting into a pool of confusion. What people? What boss? Now, according to France, he was the eastern half of Germany. That meant he was a nation again...right? He raised a hand to his heart and waited. He could feel it beating, but nothing about it felt like the powerful heartbeat of a nation, fueled by one's people. It just dutted on weakly.
"And, Prussia," the Hungarian added, setting a hand on his knee, "There is this new development with you, the reason you were at Spain's house..." That's right. He might still be weak, too weak to survive an escape. Even if he didn't survive, it wouldn't normally be a big deal because he could bet on himself coming back to life as any nation would, but considering he was cheating death, he didn't want to test if that idea still held true if he didn't have to.
The clock struck 3p.m.
"It's time for lunch," Poland stated, hoping up, "so, like, get a move on. Russia likes us all to eat together."
You didn't have to be a rocket scientist to be able to notice the apprehension around the table. In the kitchen, in a little oasis with the walls built perfectly around it, was a circular table. At it sat six identical chairs, and three mixed ones. If one started from the far end of the table, the chair up against the window, Russia sat with an expectant smile. Next to him on the left is where the cook would sit, so soon as she finished bringing the food to the table. Beside her, Lithuania was placed, then Estonia, then Latvia. Latvia was followed by the Prussian himself, giving him an unfortunate seat right across from the Russian leader. Beside Prussia, Poland sat, next to him was Hungary, and finally, was Ukraine, completing the circle, sitting next to her brother. Belarus set down the last dish and claimed her empty chair.
Prussia glanced around, not willing to meet Russia's gaze, and instead noticed everyone as Russia served himself. Ukraine and Belarus were very pretty women, as were all of the female nations actually, and all of the men equally handsome, nothing new there. It should just be noted that Ukraine had a noticeably large...
Heart. Prussia would need a few minutes with his bible for where his brain actually went with that. However, the girl's large heart seemed to be matched with a perky smile she was wearing and a sunny disposition. Her sister, on the other hand, stared ahead sort of blankly and had an aura of power about her; very intimidating. Not only that, but when she had insisted she sit next to Russia, he complied willingly, and so did everyone else. She faced not even the slightest resistance.
The only other person present the Prussian had yet to speak to was Lithuania, who made a point of not looking at him. This was going to be a fun...day? week? month? How long was Prussia to stay there exactly? His pondering was halted when a fork finally clinked, it was Belarus'. She started to get her own food, and consequentially, everyone began grabbing bits and pieces.
"Do you really need two pieces of chicken, Estonia?"
"No, I do not," the man replied to his Russian master, placing a drumstick back into the center. Prussia picked up his own utensils and decided to go after the discarded meat.
"Latvia," Russia began, "why don't you give some of your rice to our newest addition?" The Prussian eyed the boy's scarcely portioned plate and frowned.
"No, that's okay, I have enough," he commented. Latvia looked relieved by this and even smiled at Prussia.
"Give it to him," a Russian voice commanded. Before Prussia even processed what was said so that he could rebut, half the boy's barely-there rice was shoveled onto his already full plate.
"Very nice, Latvia," Russia continued, "Now, what about your dearest brother, Lithuania? He didn't receive any of the green." Latvia stood, made his way around Estonia's chair, and wordlessly gave his eldest brother his side salad; his face a mixture of grief, fear, and restraint. Russia continued making suggestions, and Latvia continued portioning away his food. By the time he was again permitted to sit, his plate was empty save some scrap grains of rice. Prussia watched him pitifully as he stared at his emtpy plate, knowing watching everyone else eat was likely making the boy's hunger even more noticeable. It wasn't until he tried to look to Hungary for support that Prussia realized he was the only one paying the poor blond any mind. All the other eight were eating their meals as if nothing had happened, Lithuania crunching on the lettuce he'd stolen from the younger, hungrier mouth.
"I'll eat," Prussia thought to himself, "but just save some for Latvia. Poor thing." He patted the little boy next to him on the head, again feeling that soft hair, before taking his first scoop of rice. Latvia nodded at the feeling, and tried not to take his eyes off his plate. He could feel tears welling as his mouth watered, and did not want to cry in front of everyone. Again. Today, he would be strong for once.
"I'm done," Russia announced after a painfully silent lunch break, "Latvia, clean the dishes for us." He lifted his plate and handed it to the Latvian boy who took it in his hands and stared at it. On the supposedly finished plate was half a meal - uneaten rice, half a chicken leg, untouched salad, still plenty worth eating.
"M-M-Mr. Russia, if you d-don't mind...might...I...eat the r-rest of this? Please?"
"No. I said it's my trash. Throw it away over there and wash the plate in the sink like I told you to."
"But-"
"Latvia!" It was one of the Russian man's rare moments of sternness. He quickly silenced it, forcing his smile back onto his face, and as he did, a fearful, purple and black glow left his body. "Latvia, I did not ask for your opinion. Clean the plate. Do not disobey me."
Latvia looked at Russia's plate. He looked at his plate. He attempted to look at his brothers, but could not, as the tears in his eyes were blocking his vision by that point. He forced the lump in his throat back down and blinked very carefully, forcing the tears to stay put. It hurt, it hurt so much! He hadn't received dinner, or breakfast, and now because of yet another stupid slip of his stupid tongue, he was being denied lunch when the food was right in his hands. His stomach begged for a bite. Maybe he could just sneak in later, and grab the dirtied food out of the trash; food was food. He stood, holding Russia's plate in his right hand, his own empty one in his left. His body wouldn't let him gravitate towards the trash.
"Mr. Russia..." he began, the Russian man waited for his apology, "...p-p-pozhaluysta [4], forgive me." For the second time in one day, Prussia's heart broke. He could just tell by the tears in his eyes, the look on his face, and the sounds of his stomach, that the boy was humiliated. To have to say he was sorry for speaking out against this ridiculousness - was this serious?! He looked to Lithuania, who still didn't look at him, and now didn't look at his youngest brother either. He eyed Estonia, who was rolling a carrot around on his plate, refusing as well too look up. Pathetic. They were pathetic as siblings. Were they really about to sit there and let their not even teen-aged little brother be pushed around just because his abuser was Russia? They weren't even going to try to stick up for him? The Russian man was one to be weary of, yes, but if Germany needed help defending himself from him, Prussia would move a mountain to do so. The fact that the duo actually left Latvia out to dry disgusted him; and the child had spoken so highly of them earlier. Pathetic.
Suddenly though, it didn't seem Latvia needed any defending.
"Forgive me, Mr. Russia, f-for what I said to you th-the other day, and t-this morning, but, I'm very hungry a-and this food will go to waste. Please, let me eat it." Now, Estonia looked up from his plate, a fearful glinting in his eyes directed at his brother.
"Latvia," Russia stated, the aura around him growing, and the temperature in the room dropping significantly, "what did I tell you? I said no didn't I?" Belarus grinned, seemingly pleased by the drama.
"Y-you did." Now Russia stood.
"So why are you still asking me this?" he asked it playfully, his smile actually widening along with his aura.
"I...I..." Latvia looked down at the plate once more, a tear finally escaping his eye and falling into the un-eaten rice, "you are so mean." He whispered. Just as he'd said it his eyes widened in shock. Just as Estonia's eyes widened as well, Russia reached into the inner left pocket of his jacket and pulled out a lead pipe with a facet attached on one end.
"Come again," the Russian cooed happily.
"I-"
"I didn't hear you, Lativa."
"I didn't say anything!" the boy cried, horror in his eyes.
"You did. You said something. Say it again."
"I-"
"Say it again," he grabbed Latvia by the hair and pulled the whimpering boy nearer him, "I didn't hear you, dear."
"I- I'm sorry Mr. Russia! I didn't mean that!" Russia raised his pipe over his head.
"Mean what?" as he said 'what', his voice not at all wavering, his smile still planted and cheery, his arm swung downwards, striking the child in the jaw. Latvia screamed and now so did Estonia.
"LATVIA!" The brother cried, standing from the table, concern written all over his face. He took a step forward but flinched backwards as the pipe was raised and swung again, this time hitting Latvia's chest. Ukraine raised a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sobs she knew were coming on.
"What did I say to you?" the Russian asked. Prussia realized he was sitting at the table still with his jaw agape, and forced his mouth to close and his legs to lift him.
"T-T-T-To thrOW AHH!... away t-t-THE foOD!" The Latvian cried, each fluctuation in his voice coming from another swipe of the pipe. By now he'd given up on restraint and let the salty tears flow, them sliding into his mouth as he screamed and sobbed. Now Russia probably wouldn't let him eat for another week. He couldn't just stay quiet? Stupid mouth. Always talking. Russia raised his pipe again and Latvia flinched in preparation.
The blow never came.
"Stop it! He's just a child!" Prussia cried, one hand holding back the pipe Russia had just been prepared to swipe down again. They stayed frozen in this position for a few seconds, no one moving but Hungary, who quietly whispered her friend's name in concern. Finally, Russia let go of the pipe, leaving it in Prussia's hand, and turned to face the man. The man who now very much regretted touching the pipe. Russia was smiling, as per usual, but Prussia could see an insanity swirling in his pupils and the purple-ish black-ish aura grew so big it seemed to encase them in a cocoon, the Russian's creepy face inching closer. For the first time in his life, someone used their height to intimidate him. And it was working.
"Kol," he said, "Kol. Kol. Kol, kol, kolkolkolkolkol." Prussia stared at him wide eyed, leaning backwards as the Russian leaned forwards until he was grabbed, a strong, sudden force on his neck. He made a choking sound as his airway was painfully cut off, and this tight, freezing cold grip began to drag him out of the room. He stumbled over Latvia and then over himself as an overpoweringly strong Russian man forced Prussia, by means of choking, out of the kitchen, into a door, and starting down a set of stairs.
"Prussia!" he'd heard dimly as his legs attempted to keep him balanced on each step he advanced. It was Latvia's sobbing voice.
"...ussia!" This time it was a feminine voice. With the next step he went down, a blast of cool air hit them. Goosebumps made their ways to his skin, and the grip on his neck was released as he was instead thrown into one of three rooms lining a hall at the end of the stairs. He gasped in, and upon blowing out, realized he could see his breath. He hadn't had time to even get off the ground before he heard a loud click, the click of the door being locked.
As he panted for breath, he pieced together the situation. He was now locked in a room, a room that he noticed had several blood stains about it, in the Russian's near freezing basement, with none other than Russia himself. Russia stepped forward and snatched his pipe out of Prussia's hand.
"Malyutka," he began, "what I say is final. I do not like to be challenged. I am just trying to protect everyone. It is important that you all do not disobey me." The Prussian scoffed at this.
"How will starving and then beating a child protect anything?" He didn't get a verbal response, rather, a hard bashing of a pipe to his shoulder. That. Hurt. And it successfully knocked him to the ground.
The albino quickly regained his bearings and scooted up, back on his feet, and now, with more alertness, addressed his attacker.
"You can't treat people like that, especially not a sweet, little kid."
"If he disobeys me," the Russian 'explained', "he may form a habit of doing so. Then, say he were to disobey me on something critical? Who knows what could go wrong?"
"So you abuse him? Es ist krank!" [5]
"NYET!" The Russian boomed, losing his composure, "I DON'T WANT THAT NASTY LANGUAGE IN MY HOME!" Prussia, shocked by this outburst, backed up wide eyed until he hit a wall. With is fingers on it he could tell it was solid and rough; painful to hit against. He could again hear his heart hammering in his chest, his fear of the Russian man bubbling to the surface. Prussia, however, was not Estonia. He was not Lithuania. He was not going to leave that poor boy to defend himself and he was not going to fall privy to Russia's every command. He was stronger than that. He didn't care if he was sacred, or if he was weak! He was born to fight and this was a better time than any to do it.
"Fick dich!" [6]
Russia listened to the sound of the wind whipping as his pipe traveled through the air towards Prussia's face.
[1] I was going to put a Russian truck brand, but I figured no one would recognize it, which would not be helpful to my cause.
[2] German for booty cheek. Just defining since it's a curse I haven't used before.
[3] I am not really writing this story with accents, I find them difficult to read, but speech patterns will still be present. I notice Russia is unnecessarily wordy when he talks saying "I am with believing you" instead of "I believe you" due to some grammatical confusion. I like it. So there it is.
[4] Please
[5] It's sick!
[6] *curse word rhyming with fire truck* you!
This chapter was going to be longer but, after 7 thousand words, and me being too tried to even edit it (I'll be back for that in the morning) I think I'm going to have to cut it off. I'm satisfied with it being longer because I think I exaggerated the relationships I wanted to and got my points across. I wish there could've been even more on Latvia's physical pain, but I think you guys can get the gist. Hopefully y'all see what I do here :). Also, poor Latvia. I thought up Prussia's own reaction to Latvia based off my reaction another fanfic. It was called HETA by lord knows who (one of the most popular Hetalia fics, you'll find it) where after a particular scene near the end, I almost cried. My heart was so broken. Imagine that emotion transferring onto Prussia for Latvia. I imagine Prussia kinda pities him and is mentally taking him under his wing, so seeing him go by mistreated is not easy for him to do. I could sit here in the end review and explain all the relationships I'm planning on forming, but, that's what the story is for. Hopefully I can write well enough for y'all to see it on your own. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, but I gotta go. Bye bye, and please review my lovely readers!