Hello all ^^ Sorry about last chapter i don't know what happened to the apostrophes... I tried fixing it but it was being a bitch. *Shrugs* I think its fixed now (Hopefully) If not I appologize again in advance if they are missing again. For this chapter I only did light research so if i got something incorrect I'm sorry 0A0. On a better note here's chapter 5~ Enjoy XD
Chapter 5
Lovino lurked through the night, now viewing a wall section of Spain's tower. The journey felt longer than it should have, but maybe that was because he was still in so much pain. His body panged from the beating he had previously received before he dared to venture out after the conquistador into the dark of the late hour. He was sure, since he was left in such a state of disrepair, that the bastard would not have suspected that he would have trailed him.
He scowled upon looking up at the tower, lone and sinister in its standstill. There was something vaguely ominous about it. A little more than vaguely. Well, if Spain went there, it was obviously ominous. Any place that damned country went would be. He just made it that way. He approached the door with some caution, knowing there was no turning back now. He wanted to just run away and abandon this mess behind him, but his curiosity wouldn t let him leave. He opened the door. He had to know first.
When he entered the tower he noticed two flights of stairs, one leading down into the dungeon and the other led to the very top. He assumed that there was nothing interesting in the dungeon so he began to walk carefully up the stairs to see what Antonio had kept hidden from him for so long. He also hoped Spain wasn't waiting for him at the top though, although it was possible he wasn't even there. He liked the sound of the second option; this excursion could cost him dearly.
The stairs kept going all the way until there was but a poorly crafted wooden door at the top. He gulped as he approached the shabby entrance, his hand shaking as he took the handle in his grasp. He tried to settle his breathing and compose himself a bit; it was now or never. This might be the only place he could find out what had happened to Spain. It was either that or the conquistador was waiting on the other side for him, eager to attack and degrade him further. The clamy Italian closed his eyes as he was finally able to will himself to open the door. Pure silence, other than the creaking of the tarnished wooden door, filled in around him. He opened his eyes with relief to find no one else in the room. Instead, the walls were layered with paintings, catholic matters, gold, and the huge axe Antonio had brandished when he first came home. He shuddered to think of how he must have used that thing. It was extrodinarily menacing, even when not in use. He passed it by as quickly as he could further into the depths of the room, but switched it for the view of some rather disturbing paintings. Most of them were of the Spanish men, mass murdering what looked to be the people of the New World, killing only the ones not wearing crucifixes around their necks. Spain was in a few of these, joined in the slaughter. Lovino had to turn away from them, feeling his stomach pitch a bit.
Approaching the Catholic shrine, he noticed some papers on a table. The Italian shuffled through the massive pile, finding most traced back to the first few times Spain had transversed to the New World. There were also some more current ones, though it was hard to tell what they revealed from the dim lighting of nearby torches. He could make out a few words but that was about all. The most commonly used word that he could see in most of the documents was Heretics. He shuddered. Were there really that many people committing the act of heresy? He knew there was a vast selection of religions within Spain. But Spain himself, because of his boss, was a Catholic. Lovino had known this for a long time, he was Catholic himself, but now the fact disturbed him.
Romano went to continue looking through the papers in a more in-depth perspective, before a horrid blood curdling scream rose from below him. It was the most horrifying sound the young country had ever heard in all his life, jumping and gasping fearfully. That noise had to have been coming from the dungeon. He stood there for the longest time, his mind in a whirl. Did he dare go down there? Would he really risk his life going into the unknown to see who had uttered the scream, and why they were screaming in such a way? It didn't take long before Lovino s legs simply moved on their own. He was heading down to face what he could only suspect as a living hell. Every once in a while the screams would return and Lovino would flinch on his journey down the steps. Was Spain doing all of this? He didn't really want to know, he wanted to leave and escape right then, yet his body kept going further down those wicked steps, each movement closing into the depths of the tower, by now already shaking, though not taking notice of it. Finally, he reached the bottom. The only thing that was between him and the dungeon now was the crude door, similarly resembling the one upstairs.
He took hold of the door handle, but there it was. That scream again. Just beyond the door. He bit his lip, it was so loud that whoever it was sounded like they were in tremendous pain. His grip tightened when he heard a voice other than the screaming. He used to know this voice. And it was one he could never forget.
"You really won t convert? That's a damn shame." Spain sounded so unbearably cruel as his voice soaked through the door.
The screaming broke out once more, causing the Italian to jump and push open the door. He looked on, wide-eyed in horror, taking several minutes for him to process the shock to his system, even when Spain looked furiously back to find him present. He was speechless. The room reeked of blood, and was dark enough to obscure most detail, but through the dim lighting various devices could be seen. He had no idea what they were for, though there was the possibility he would figure that out on his own soon. The screams he heard were still coming from a far corner of the room, but were dying quickly. He glanced over only to find a man lying on a wooden frame, his limbs stretched from his body. His head was lolled in the direction away from him, but the trembling from his body betrayed the fact that he was crying.
"Get him off," Spain's voice cruelly echoed, causing Lovino to snap from his horrified staring at the man, looking now to the monster once more. "He won't confess tonight. We shall continue tomorrow. Get him out of here." The other men were all clad in dark robes, Lovino was stunned that he hadn't noticed them when he had first entered, although seeing everything that was within the room was a huge shock. He watched as they roughly carried the sobbing man through another set of doors on an adjacent wall. The look on his face wasn't able to conceal the massive pain he was facing, and he felt bad for him.
The moment the doors closed, Spain began to speak once more. "I told you not to follow me here." His tone was deeply unpleasant.
Lovino just stood there, staring at him, terrified, looking over Spain's appearance with dismay. He was wearing one of the same dark robes as the other men, wearing a golden cross medallion similar to the one he himself wore. He shuddered at the cold appearance of the Spaniard before him, though at least he wasn t covered in blood, like some of the days when he returned home. Still, this was what he most feared about heading into the tower. Getting caught by Spain.
Spain took a step toward him. His continually angry glare made him want to up and leave, and this was the most brave he had been in what had to be the entirety of his life. He was scared, but couldn't work himself to move, not really sure if he could actually call this bravery anymore. There were much braver men than he was. In the end he was a coward, and too afraid to even move.
"You just can t get enough of being punished, can you?" Antonio asked in an almost smug manner.
"N no," Lovino trailed, hardly getting his words spoken.
"But you disobeyed me, so obviously you must wish to be disciplined ~" the Spaniard informed bluntly. "Plus, we are in a special room made just for punishment. He began to circle around the younger country. What should I use, what should I use?~ It must be something that would cause you so much pain that you would never again dare to do this a second time, but it also mustn't kill you." He traced a finger along Lovino s body as he circled. The cruelest stare filled his face as he was filled with malice.
"Strappado or the Rack would do nicely. They are similar and would not kill you," he told him casually.
"S strappado?" Lovino gulped. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what he was talking about.
"Yes~ you get pulled up by your arms, tied by rope; sometimes weights are applied to make it hurt more. Depending on what you did more weights might be added until your arms are pulled from their sockets ~" Antonio s face crowned a small but nevertheless disturbing smile as he spoke of the punishment, "I think the Rack is a little worse, though," he chuckled. "The man you saw being taken away had the pleasure of being put on the Rack." Lovino closed his eyes tightly. So that man was being punished? Was it for being a heretic? It was confusing. He didn't seem like the type of person to be terrible enough to be tortured in such a way.
"With the Rack your arms and legs get strapped to the frame while we slowly pull and pull and pull," Spain was speaking in an eerily cheerful tone now, "until your arms and legs are pulled from their sockets. Just like the Strappado. Doesn't that just sound so wonderfully fun, Lovi? ~" Lovino couldn't take it anymore. He turned tail and fled from the dungeon of the tower. His mind had finally broken its grip on him, and he was booking it, surprisingly enough, even through the pain in his body. He didn't care. He knew well enough to stay out of Spain's tower. He would never set foot there again. He did not want to be hurt in terrible ways that Spain had described.
Hour upon endless hour seemed to pass by as the poor Italian ran from that hellish tower. He knew in actuality it wasn't as long, but with the pain from his wounded body time became a chore to carry himself through. He only wanted to run now. He wanted to leave Spain and all the terrible things he'd done and done to him behind. Hell, he'd rather go back and live with Feliciano in Italy. His brother would never and could never intentionally hurt him like this. He was more fragile than he was, actually.
Lovino finally slowed down his pace, pulling to a stop with weight on each of his limbs and the bottom of his stomach dropping out, only wanting to cry. He was in front of Spain s house. Life could never be easy on him. He couldn't escape this place-not tonight, anyways. He was exhausted by now and didn't want to go out after being beat up, adding to the fact it was already late at night. He could run into trouble if he left tonight, even though it was poor in comparison to what Spain could do to him. He started to walk toward the door solemnly; one more night he would let the torture pass, but he would abandon for good come the hours of tomorrow. He would feel good enough to travel tomorrow, or at least better. It would be when the sun glowered indifferently overhead and he hadn't been running for a long time prior.
He slowly made his way up to his own room, dark and uninviting in atmosphere. His room was unlike most rooms, in the fact that he found no comfort or safety there. How could anyone feel safe when Spain was around and would constantly let himself in to do as he wished? Lovino collapsed onto his bed, fatigued. How he longed for this day to end. He could only doze off as he thought about it, out after a few moments with closed eyes. Once morning hit he was going to wake up and turn his life around. Spain was something he needed to run from. He knew very well that he could not stay and fight this.
xXxXxXx
Lovino awoke early the next morning, and eager to leave his soon to be ex-boss's house. Hastily, he seized a small sack and stuffed it full of his clothes and personal belongings. He hoped Spain couldn't hear him shuffling about within his room. That was all he wanted right now, to not be noticed. He couldn't stand to see him as he was on his way out. Clutching the bag close to his chest, he stood, gathering thoughts. No matter if he was to see Spain on his way out, he was going to leave. He had had enough of it all. He stepped up to the door and grasped the handle. After this, it was off to Italy. He turned it, but there was no click per usual. He pulled and shook at it, but it wouldn't open. He tried again, more forcefully, still no budging of the door away from the frame. He started to panic. Why was the door locked? He continued his useless efforts of trying to open the door, whining as desperation kicked in.
It took a long while for the Italian to finally give up. He knelt next to it, silently whining no over and over again. He set his head on the frame, confused and trapped. A small sense of claustrophobia kicked in as he let forth a distressed moan. Did Spain suspect him of leaving? He should have left the night before. He was guaranteed his freedom then, but no, he was too much of a coward to go out on his own at night. He had been afraid and exhausted, but if he wanted to leave that badly he would have. He should have.
He sighed, just sitting against the door for a very long time. He only moved when he heard the door click. It was opening. He waited for Spain to enter as he backed away from it.
"You know, Romano," Spain said as he finally let himself into the room, "I cannot just forget what you did last night. I don't think you understand what you did." He came in and loomed over the sitting Italian, a crooked grin spread devilishly over his face. This only meant he was not pleased. He then looked like he was going to lose it when Lovino gave him a pouty glare in return. Instead, he continued to speak.
"I'm actually being rather generous with you. I m only locking you in your room." Lovino became only more dismayed. That bastard really was trapping him. He tried to calm down but the attempt was incredibly feeble. He knew Spain could see the fear in his eyes, too. The bastard always could. He watched grimly as the Spaniard turned and left him. Apparently, he had only come into the room because he had heard his struggles, just to tell him he was no longer able to roam his home freely.
The moment Lovino made sure Antonio was completely gone and out of hearing range, he bolted to the window. Throwing it open, he began to climb out. He tried his best not to look down. He was at least two stories up, and only clinging to the edges of the house, as he slowly made his way down, getting the worst sense of vertigo. He soon found himself looking down anyway, that damn curiosity and natural reflex, and really wishing he hadn't. He began to loose his balance as he turned to a more anxious state, his limbs shaking from the fear of falling. His heart pounded as he began to feel dizzy. He was falling apart and wasn t even close to reaching the bottom. Still, something inside him had the greater power, and he refused to return to that room. That place that no longer felt secure, no longer felt safe, that he never wanted to set foot in ever again.
Lovino made one more fraught move toward the ground, unfortunately the footholding was none too sturdy. He was falling. It didn't take long before everything went pitch black.