Eh, sorry this chapter took longer than normal to post. School was busy the last two weeks. And the Olympics!! I cried when Russia's winning streak in figure skating pairs was broken, by China of all people! Russia's the one who practically taught China how to skate! But I loved watching Plushenko compete~ I watched and thought, Russia, isn't it cheating if you compete? XD Plushenko = Russia = *heart* I don't care what the judges say, to me, Plushenko won gold that night. Besides, Lysacek didn't even have a quad... Okay, I'll stop ranting now...
On with the chapter!
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When Russia came down for dinner he peered curiously at the dishes arrayed on the table: Estonian potato salad, Latvian apple pudding, Lithuanian skilandis, Belarussian chernosliv farshirovannyi tvorogom, and Ukrainian vereshchaka. Before he could say anything, Ukraine explained that they had each made a dish for him.
"I thought you would like it, bratishka, to see what your countries have made for you," she said, hope in her voice.
The Baltics waited in their seats with baited breath, too concerned about avoiding potential wrath to feel vaguely betrayed over Ukraine's statement.
Russia sat down, then smiled broadly. "Spasiba, everyone! I'm glad we can share our favorite things with each other; we will become very close this way."
Lithuania let out a small sigh of relief. Unfortunate that Russia took the meal as a sign of agreement to his policies, but at least meant that they wouldn't have to flee the table at top speed.
"A toast!" Russia announced, and Liet nearly groaned. Ugh, he'd forgotten about that… "To the joining our countries for the common goal of freedom and equality!"
Two rounds of toasts with six people left Liet nauseous by the end of the meal, but he did enjoy all the different food. And the presence of Russia's sisters gave the frozen country people to talk to other than the Baltics, who were more than happy to keep quiet and let them dominate the conversation. Lithuania was especially grateful, since most Russia's dinner conversations were directed at him, and tended to require both an alarmingly deep understanding of the Party—which Liet simply didn't have—and frequent references to what he thought were probably obscure pamphlets published by the huge nation's former boss—which Liet simply hadn't read. A dinner in which he wasn't constantly on his toes to provide correct responses (and when talking to Russia, there were always correct responses) was a nice reprieve.
The Baltics lingered in the kitchen after dinner to clean up, while everyone continued on to the living room, telling stories and laughing, the radio playing in the background. At first they worked in their accustomed silence, a habit ingrained by Russia's nigh constant omnipresence, but Latvia was the first to unconsciously realize that it wasn't needed that night.
"I'm really glad Russia's sisters are here, even if Belarus is scary," he announced suddenly.
Estonia shot him a startled looked, fear in his eyes, did Russia hear? But the laughter and music was too loud for even Russia's keen ears to have heard that.
Latvia continued, "Russia's a lot nicer this way."
They were quiet a moment at that statement, trying to judge the truth of it.
"Do we know how long they're staying?" Estonia wondered aloud.
"Their suitcases were pretty heavy," Liet replied, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn spot. "And they did come a long way."
Estonia nodded, and was silent a beat longer. "Let us hope this good mood holds?"
Liet and Latvia nodded, right when something banged loudly as Russia angrily shouted, "Sestra, that isn't my decision!"
The Baltic froze, listening.
"But I want to be with you; what does your boss care if we get marri—"
"Belarus, I don't want to marry you!"
SLAP
Lithuania's eyes widened; he was at the doorway to the living room before he realized he had moved. If Russia had hit Belarus—
But from the look of things—Russia's surprised expression, Belarus's righteous indignation, Ukraine's shock—that wasn't the case. Belarus held her brother's gaze for a half second longer before bursting into tears and running out of the room; they could hear her footsteps fly up the stairs and a door slam shut.
Russia looked crestfallen. "Why does she always have to ask me that?" he asked miserably, a hand on his already reddening cheek.
Because for some crazy reason she loves you, but Liet held his tongue, trying to sooth a flare of jealousy.
The eldest sister immediately tried to smooth things over. "Belarus just had too much to drink, that's all bratishka," she assured, guiding him back to the couch and offering him another shot which Russia took glumly. "I am sure everything will be fine in the morning."
Liet backed slowly into the kitchen before either nation could notice he was there. So much for their good mood.
--
To his surprise, the good mood was indeed back the next morning, just as Ukraine had predicted. Russia and Belarus before seemed to have forgotten about the night's incident completely, and Liet couldn't help but wonder if the other set of siblings also followed the unspoken rule that Lithuania and his brothers followed: if there's a bad situation and nothing can be done about it, ignore it and continue on as if everything is okay. They had been living by that tenet since moving back in with Russia, and the more he watched the other siblings interact, the more he suspected that they did as well.
No matter whose side they were on, was there a difference?
The rest of the week was almost a vacation for the Baltics. Whenever Russia shut himself up in his office for work, Ukraine would insist on helping with the housework, and Belarus occasionally pitched in as well, making the chores fly by and leaving them ample time for leisurely pursuits like reading or chess games or—and Liet could hardly believe what he was doing—writing letters to Poland and sneaking them into the post.
Since he didn't actually know if Poland was staying at Germany's house or just somewhere there, he addressed the letters to Germany first with Poland's name right underneath it, writing the letters entirely in Polish (thus lessening the chances that either Russia or Germany would read them, but increasing the likelihood that Poland wouldn't get them at all, since the two countries wouldn't know the content of the letters). In each letter Lithuania enclosed a single hair, so that Poland would know by its absence or presence whether the letter had been tampered with or not.
Chances were that Poland would never see the letters, but he wrote them anyways, apparently bland accounts of daily happens that wouldn't make any sense to the uninformed—Liet had no idea who would end up reading his letters—but Poland would know. He used the same code they had made back when Russia had first brought Liet to live with him: a sentence with the word 'shirt' in it meant that they had been interrogated, 'shoes' meant that they weren't getting enough to eat; the opening 'dear Feliks' with a comma meant that things were okay, but leaving out the comma meant that things were really bad. An elaborate system, one that was completely necessary, and one that Poland had made up himself. Lithuania only hoped that Poland would remember.
Of course, he didn't dare write the letters when Russia was out and about the house rather than in his office, but during that week, Liet wouldn't have had time anyways. For reasons he still didn't know, the week of the sisters' stay was marked by oddly festive activities: they went ice skating again, a troika ride the next night, and to the Baltics' terror, a snowball fight.
The snowball fight was the stuff of nightmares, although it started innocently enough. Walking back from a trip into town—Belarus and Ukraine bought hair ribbons, since theirs were tattered and falling apart—Russia had casually scooped up a handful of snow, compacted it, and shouted 'Catch, Litva!' as he tossed it. Lithuania tried, but the projectile exploded on contact with his hand, showering him with snow. Russia chuckled, resuming his conversation with Belarus, and before Liet could stop him, Latvia had made a snowball and arced it over everyone at the huge nation.
As Liet watched it spin through the air, helpless to stop its course, he thought, 'This is how wars start'.
Latvia missed, the snowball plopping to the ground at Russia's feet. For an instant, Lithuania hoped that disaster had been averted, but Russia turned to face them properly just as Estonia chided, "Latvia!", and the nation's face broke into a grin.
"Snowball fight!" he announced, and there was a tense moment, the Baltics unsure if Russia was joking, and desperately hoping he was.
But the three Russias had backed up into a line, bending down in near-perfect unison to straighten up with snowballs in hand, and the Baltics knew immediately that no, Russia wasn't kidding and yes, the teams had been decided.
They ran. They fled for the house, just visible up the lane, as snowballs fell around them, a few nicking arms or torsos, most of them missing, and Liet felt that tight panic creep up on him as his thoughts flashed to memories of running through hails of bullets, praying nothing connected.
Estonia tripped, landing hard. Lithuania and Latvia skidded to a halt, turning back to see Russia bounding up behind the fallen nation like some great awful wolf, Ukraine and Belarus a few strides behind him. The huge nation slammed into Estonia just as he had scrambled to his feet again, taking them both to the ground, Estonia gasping in what Liet hoped was surprise rather than pain. Russia sat up, pinning the shorter blond to the ground as he reached for a handful of snow; Lithuania threw a snowball and it collided with Russia's shoulder, distracting him from his goal as Latvia closed the distance and tackled Russia—"Leave him alone!"—off the now without-glasses-Estonia. Belarus fired off a snowball in retaliation and Liet couldn't move fast enough, it hit him hard in the chest—shit, was that ice? Russia flipped Latvia off him easily—Estonia found his glasses and got up, Ukraine clipped him in the head with a well-placed snowball—and rolled him over, pinning him to the ground as well, brushing snow directly into Latvia's face with "Bang!" and a giggle, Latvia squirming pitifully under him, pushing away Russia's cold hands, crying from cold and fear. Liet bombarded the frigid nation with snowballs, hoping he'd turn his attention to him instead, conveniently granting Estonia cover as he backed out of the fray, rapidly packing ammunition. He dodged what he could from Belarus, taking Ukraine's soft snowballs over Belarus's damaging ones, but then it was just he and Belarus as Estonia engaged Ukraine and drew away her fire. Desperate, Liet tried, "Wait, I don't—" but Belarus was relentless in her onslaught and so Liet retreated into the yard, taking cover behind the fence.
Russia stood, apparently satisfied with his defeat of Latvia as he proclaimed "One down, two to go!", and Lithuania realized that he and Estonia had not even the slimmest chance separated; he took a breath and broke cover, running at a crouch to where the other was concealed across the street, behind a snow-laden shrub. Snowballs spattered the ground around him and something hit him hard in the temple as he dove for relative safety, landing next to a battered-looking Estonia.
"You're bleeding," he said calmly after launching a (well-placed, judging by Belarus's shriek) snowball over the top, an odd contrast to his messy snow-packed hair and crooked glasses.
Lithuania tucked himself into a kneeling position, gingerly touching his temple and feeling wetness. "Belarus is packing ice," he said by way of explanation, taking a moment to breath.
"Ah…" Estonia nodded sagely before throwing another snowball. He ducked a returned shot, took another look, and then crouched back down. "Russia's advancing, Belarus is cover fire, and Ukraine's just vanished."
"Ukraine's just what?" Liet repeated, peeking around the side. Immediately a snowball whizzed past his face, missing him by mere centimeters—Belarus.
"She was secondary advance a moment ago—ah!"
"Estonia!" Lithuania whirled to see Ukraine dragging the taller Baltic out from behind the bush—"I got him, bratishka!"—with an arm around his neck, Estonia scrabbling for leverage and air and failing to find either. Liet threw quickly, missed, and they were out of sight by the time he had compacted a second projectile.
"Surrender, Toris!" Russia called, using his human name for anyone listening in. "We've captured your teammates." He paused, waiting to hear the response.
Lithuania's answer nailed him square in the face. Russia sputtered, brushing away the snow, then laughed. "Okay, but do not say I did not give you a choice!"
From the beginning Lithuania knew he couldn't win; even if it had been just Russia versus the Baltics, on the off-chance they were capable of winning, they wouldn't have dared—who knew how Russia would take that loss? But hiding there behind the shrub, trembling like a rabbit, frightened of what would happen if he surrendered and frightened of what would happen if he didn't, Lithuania decided that if he couldn't win this, than at least he wouldn't give in. It was a snowball fight, not an actual war, and he could afford to be dangerously stubborn when his people weren't at stake.
Of course, he managed to hold Russia off for all of a minute before the arctic nation grew tired of lobbing snowballs at a target he couldn't see and just rushed the make-shift fort instead. He slammed Liet down into the snow so hard he knocked the wind out of him; he gasped for air and twisted, trying to roll away, but Russia pinned him as he had the others, knees on either side of him, and there was no way on earth Liet would be able to push the heavy country off him. Russia scooped up a handful of powdery snow, held it up as he leaned down over the boy, and softly whispered "Bang…", his breath ghosting over Liet's ear. The brunette shivered; Russia sat up again, grinning like a child, and dumped the snow all over the Baltic's bare face and neck. Liet thrashed, trying to knock it off, but his arms were trapped so he was force to wait as the snow melted and dripped slowly into his hair, while Russia sat and watched him struggle not to fidget.
Finally Russia stood and dusted himself off wordlessly. Lithuania sat up, wiped away the remaining snow, and stood as well, grateful the whole ordeal was over. But his relief evaporated into nothing as Russia turned to him and asked, "So, how are you going to get your prisoners of war back?"
Lithuania blinked. "My what?"
"Your prisoners of war," Russia repeated, gesturing towards the house. Liet followed his gaze and saw Estonia and Latvia kneeling in the front yard, Belarus standing guard behind them, Ukraine off to the side with a look that suggested she didn't entirely agree with the situation.
Lithuania gaped wordlessly for a moment. What was he supposed to do? Normally countries would agree to trade prisoners of war in order to recover their own soldiers, but Lithuania didn't have that option. And then his brain caught up with him and translated what Russia was actually asking: what are you willing to do to protect your brothers?
He swallowed. He didn't want to answer that question. He didn't know what sort of situation to which his response would later be applied, and he didn't want to overshoot and say something that would wind up being ridiculously inappropriate. And asking Russia in order to use the reply as the bar by which to gauge his own answer was risky, in case Russia placed it idiotically high to spite him. But…
"If you don't recover your prisoners of war, they'll get snowed," Russia mentioned off-handedly while Liet hesitated. The statement was immediately decoded to read: when I capture soldiers, they normally wind up dead.
He had no choice. "What can I do?" he asked, and thankfully defeat didn't sound in his voice.
Russia knew though, a pleased look flashing through his violet eyes. "I don't know, Litva. What can you do?"
So he wouldn't help, Lithuania would have to guess and offer something. Unfortunately, he suspected he knew what Russia wanted from him; his refusal to help simply meant that the huge nation wanted Liet to say it himself, so that when they looked back on the event, only Liet could be directly blamed.
But honestly, there was nothing else Lithuania could offer him. Russia provided food, shelter, clothing, everything; there was nothing Lithuania could do that Russia couldn't also do. No other way. Liet was furious at himself, that he didn't see this coming, that he didn't realized that of course the snowball fight was a trap, everything was a trap with Russia, that's just how he lived.
"I'll join the prisoners," he said quietly, thinking bitterly, read as: I'm completely under your control and I admit it.
"Very honorable of you," Russia conceded with a nod, then roughly grabbed Liet by the arm and marched him over into the yard, forcing him to his knees between Estonia and Latvia.
"Sestri, ribbons and babushki please," Russia said, hand outstretched. The Baltics shot each other nervous glances.
The arctic nation took the ribbons and tied their hands behind their back, loose enough that it wasn't painful, but tight enough that they'd had to really try to get free; Lithuania felt a glimmer of fear and wondered how far Russia was going to take this war metaphor. When Russia used the babushki to blindfold Estonia, gently removing his glasses and tucking them into a pocket, Liet suspected very far.
Latvia was blindfolded next, and Lithuania last, Russia using his own scarf for lack of more babushki; right before the cloth was slipped over his eyes Liet saw the huge nation smiling at him in that sickly sweet way, and then he could see nothing. The scarf smelt of snow and vodka, intoxicating Russia.
They were hauled to their feet and led away and Liet could tell from the size of the hands on his arm that his guide was Russia. They came to a halt and he was released; Liet stood there uncertain, they hadn't walked very far, were they in the back yard? He thought he could hear Estonia and Latvia next to him…
"The court-martial convened under me will now pronounce sentence!" Russia declared loudly, and the Baltics jumped. Court martial? But—
"Eduard von Bock, Raivis Galante, and Toris Lorinaitis, you are hereby found guilty of conspiracy against the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and thus condemned to death by firing squad!"
Even in jest, the words filled Liet with dread. Latvia squeaked from somewhere off to his right.
"von Bock."
Sounds of footsteps—Liet imagined Estonia was being moved, made to stand in front of the house...
"Ready."
He wondered if Estonia was standing tall, if he was able to quell the tremors long enough to present a brave front. Just because it wasn't real didn't mean there wouldn't be a very real message in how they carried themselves in this 'game'.
"Aim."
Lithuania blinked. Was that… a click he heard?
"Fire!"
BANG, a splatter of snowballs.
Liet choked, stumbling forward a step, "Estonia!" as he heard Ukraine angrily chiding "Bratshika, that is too much!"
"Stand," Russia ordered, ignoring her.
No response from Estonia. Footsteps, something being dragged away, oh god, he was actually shooting them?!
"Galante."
Latvia whimpered as footsteps led him away. Liet stood there, frozen, knowing that bullets couldn't kill them, but it still hurt, still caused excruciating pain and Russia was just—
"Ready."
Latvia was crying.
"Aim." Another click.
"Please! Russia, stop, you win, you win, please—"
"Fire!"
Lithuania flinched at the gunshot, gritting his teeth as he heard Latvia collapse.
"Stand." Sounds of dragging… He morbidly wondered if Russia was doing head shots or aiming for the heart; they had to be perfect 'kills' each time.
"Lorinaitis."
Someone took him by the arm, walked him forward; he could tell it was Belarus. Lithuania almost laughed at the irony of it. She brought him to a stop and walked away, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears.
"Ready."
He was shaking but managed to keep his head up, his breath coming in quick shallow gasps. Trying to reassure himself with the thought that this wouldn't kill him didn't work.
"Aim." Click.
Oh god…
"Fire!"
BANG!
And snowballs peppered his body.
His brain refused to process anything.
A hand removed the blindfold. Numb, he gazed blankly at Russia standing there, smiling pleasantly with a Tokarev pistol pointed casually skywards, as the ribbon was untied. He offered no resistance as Ukraine led him off to the side where his brothers were: Latvia passed out cold, Estonia shaking violently, eyes wide and unfocused, white as a sheet. Liet tried to sit down properly but his legs gave out, nearly dragging Ukraine down with him. She lowered him to the ground, biting her lip and whispering "I'm sorry, Lithuania." He didn't reply, just tucked his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, silent as the grave.
Russia went inside, and at his insistence, so did Belarus and Ukraine. The Baltics didn't find the strength to move until nightfall.
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Russia doesn't do that much physical damage, but he deals psychological damage in spades.
I hope everyone was able to follow the snowball fight scene; it was really difficult to keep track of everyone!
Ukraine's dish is a pork stew traditionally served during Maslenitsa, and Belarus's is plums stuffed with cheese. Liet's another pork dish usually served to guests. Estonia's and Latvia's dishes are in English because I don't know what they're called in their native languages, only Russian and English. ^^;
Very short author's note to make up for the last two chapters.
Read and review, comrades!