A/N: Thank you to my 4 reviewers! Yes, those of you who guessed America, you are absolutely correct! I got some interesting guesses though, Lithuania and, interestingly, Belgium being two of them. I never thought of putting Russia and Belgium together. XD ANYWHORE, Chapter 2! I think I'll go on this until I stop getting reviews...SO REVIEW or I will personally come find you with my pipe, da. -cosplays Russia

Nah, just kidding. But I'd love a few reviews! I'm gonna put America as the second character and go name my chapters now. I also kinda worked out a plot. *le gasp*

Anywhore, enjoy!

"It started on December Twelfth in the year 1237. Mongolia-and his Golden Horde army-were unstoppable. This was back when my sisters and I still lived together. Belarus was just a baby, and I was physically only about ten. Ukraine was the eldest and, collectively, we were were called the Rus', da. Mongolia invaded Europe starting from somewhere near my modern city of Vladivostok. He was smart enough to do so during a very dry year, when General Winter was asleep and I could not call him."

"Dude, that was a long time ago...Where was I?"

Russia frowned. "I do not know. I was occupied with myself and most likely you were not yet born."

"Oh right, I wasn't born until the 1500's. Keep going."

"Anyway, he invaded and I was too young to be able to defend myself. I had always relied on General Winter before, but Mongolia's Golden Horde moved so fast I didn't have time for them to be caught by him. They found my sisters and I hiding in a forest. Mongolia sent my sisters to new homes under his top two commanders, giving them the names Belarus and Ukraine. He added the -sia to my name to make me no longer Rus', but Russia."

"I never knew that. I just thought you were always called Russia."

"Nyet, at one time I was Kievan Rus', at another just Rus', and then Russia, Imperial Russia, the USSR and now the Russian Federation. But that is not important to the story..."

"Sorry."

Russia cleared his throat. He was about to speak of things no one else had heard from him, and he was about to speak them to a country he had once considered is worst enemy. Still, the sight of America's sun-bright smile and the feel of his warm body heating Russia's own helped the still-shaken power regain his nerve. He paused to bury his nose in America's hair, smiling at the sweet scent of roses, America's national flower.

"After Mongolia separated me from my sisters, the first thing he did after taking me back to his house was to go conquer Poland and Hungary. One thing he did do right was fend of Prussia and his Teutonic Knights, which were actually a far greater danger to me since I was so young."

Russia sighed and ran a hand idly through America's hair. "He took care of me fairly well at his house, and let me keep my religion, industry and language, but when I did things wrong, he would punish me and, in those days, the most mild punishment for me was often a whipping."

America looked unimpressed, but he kept his voice gentle in deference to his obviously-shaken lover. "When I did something bad, England would use a whip. It was common."

"Da," said Russia, quirking one eyebrow upward. "But Mongolia used it for such things as a dropped dish or a stained shirt. More often, he would use a whip when a scolding would have worked just as well. He may have been relatively kind as invaders go, but he was still a cruel master."

America shivered as Russia's voice lost its contrived kiddy tone, deepening and roughening in both the way that sent pleasant shivers up America's spine, and the way that sent unpleasant ones down it.

"Often," Russia growled, "He would punish me for a failed crop by having me service"-and here Russia's eyes narrowed to violet slits- "his entire army."

A fire burned deep in Russia's eyes, an angry, blackened violet fire that burned anew after centuries as mere purple embers. "My throat would be sore for days on end after he let me stop. Sometimes it was so bad that I couldn't even speak."

America, for once, kept silent, deep blue eyes wide with horror. He'd never heard something like that from Russia, though it certainly explained why Russia hated to do...that to America. America tried to remember to never ask Russia for one again.

Russia continued, the fire burning so bright in his eyes that a haze of violet appeared to glow around him. "I cannot describe how much I hated Mongolia at those times, Amerika. That wasn't even his worst punishment. I was a slow-growing country, and after about 200 years under Mongolia's rule, I had only grown to the physical stature of a fifteen-year-old. Mongolia was sick of it, so he waited until another season of crops failed. Then, he took me into his office, locked the door, and-"

America clapped a hand over Russia's mouth. He didn't want to hear that at all, but Russia just yanked America's hand away (after a bit of effort).

"You told me you would listen, da?"

America nodded. "Yeah, I just...I hadn't expected anything that...awful...to have happened to you, dude." He winced the second the familiar slang left his mouth. Shit. He knew Russia wasn't a fan of being called 'dude', but sometimes it just slipped out.

Luckily for America, Russia was (unfortunately for him) too absorbed into his memories to notice. "Well, I suppose you can guess what he did, da?"

"It's why you never let me top, right?"

"Da." Russi went momentarily silent. Then, a quick intake of breath. "It was the most painful, awful experience of my life. He didn't even try to make me happy. He seemed to take his pleasure from my screams of pain, my agonized moans and endless tears. Eventually, I couldn't hande the pain. I blacked out, and the next thing I knew I was waking up in my own bed, so sore that it would be nearly three days before I left my bed on my own."

"Mongolia spilled far too much of my blood. He couldn't keep himself away after that, either. He kept coming back for more."

Russia's hand, the one that wasn't tangled in America's hair, reached up to clutch the tri-barred golden cross he wore under his coat. "I still am not sure how I survived."

America snuggled closer to Russia. "However you did it, I'm glad you did."

They shared a kiss before Russia continued his tale.

A/N: Te gusta? (I think that means 'do you like?') Poor Russia. Next chapter: Rise of Russia. It gets intensely gory next chapter (if I can write it) so BE WARNED! :D Thank you for reading and taking time out of your day! I would love reviews! (Flames will be used to stoke the fireplace of my imagination. Flamers will be subjected to Russian rage.)

The tri-barred cross I mentioned Russia wearing is the symbol of Russia's highly common Eastern orthodox Christian religion. Over 50% of Russia's population follows this religion, which is quite old, and I would picture Russia as being part of this religion (though not neccesarily actively practicing). I don't intend to offend anyone, and I write about the cross and Russia's potential religion with the utmost respect.