Okay, here is my new update. Thanks for reviewing and favouriting and reading my last chapters! I have three new chapters here that I had planned to update at the end of this week, but I had to do it now. Sorry if the proofreading is not on par with these chapters. I have the flu, and have to write two exams, so, I was rushing to get it done. Next update will have four chapters, in order for me to fulfil the quota of having at least one ro, chu, or rochu chapter per update. AHHHHHHH! It is just not Rochu's time to shine yet. T.T Thanks for your patience, and please review!
:3 Our lovebirds shall meet again next update.
Without thinking, Russia grabbed Belarus' hand and ran away as fast as he could, dashing through zig-zagged garden paths of the Kremlin. He didn't dare to take a rest, at least not until he stopped hearing the yelling and taunting behind them. They made their way across a wide courtyard, the moon elongating their shadows on the pavement. The thudding of their boots echoed through the chilly air, as their feet lifted clouds of dust from the ground that the servants had not swept for years.
Belarus tripped on her dress and fell face-first into the muddy puddle at the centre.
Russia shook his head. "Come on, Bela," he urged, "We can't stop now, we'll die if we do!"
She gave a few bloody coughs into her elbow. "I can't run anymore, brother. Just go on without me!" She said, her voice raspy and frail, her breaths heavy.
"Don't say things like that, Bela! You know I will never leave you!" Russia yelled, almost angry that she would say such a thing.
Russia turned his head back and realized that his previous words had pierced through complete, overwhelming silence, uninterrupted by the voices nor footsteps of the pursuers that he had thought were still behind them.
Relieved that they had finally given up, he bent down in front of his sister, took his scarf, and began to dab at the blood dripping from the corners of her mouth. After he finished, he took her arm and hoisted her up from the ground, patting her dress free of dust.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes," Belarus finally replied, violently tearing the dirt out of her hair, like how Ukraine used to.
Russia was glad that their own shadows were their only companions now.
He just didn''t understand. He had tried as hard as he could to be nice to those kids, but they were still mean to him and Bela. They called them names and beat them, for no reason at all!
Russia and Belarus had been walking to the dining quarters earlier that night, and they were met by a circle of boys who were at least twice their height and width. They were sons of the boyars, wearing tall hats and a smug expression on their faces. Their dads were so powerful that even Russia's boss didn't know what to do with them. And, now that he was dead, these people and their sons were free to roam around the Kremlin like a hoard of hungry beasts.
Russia knew they had been eying Belarus for a few weeks now, and were planning to take her away from him. They had said that they wanted Belarus as their new maid, and of course, Russia refused.
He had already lost Ukraine to Poland and Lithuania, and even though Belarus lived with him now, her land had also fallen under their occupation. Russia wasn't going to let anyone else bully him and his family again.
Besides, his sister was too pretty to be their maid.
When they had forced her to go, she stood firm. Clutching Russia's hand tightly, Belarus barked out her refusal and spat on the face of the ring leader. The boy hissed in disgust, and with a petrifying glint in his eye, he ordered the rest of his gang to attack them.
Russia would have been able to take them on one-by-one, but when six or seven were charging at him simultaneously, how could he fend them off? So, he grabbed his sister's hand and ran, and never looked back.
Now, they were in front of the gates of the dilapidated tower that they called home. Belarus, who had been standing still in front of Russia, pushed him into a tight embrace.
"Brother, I don't want to live here anymore," she said, sobbing into his chest, "I hate it here. I want to go back..."
Russia patted her head.
It was the only way he could think of to comfort her, because he knew that they could never go back to how it used to be. They were big kids now, and no matter how much they missed it, they probably wouldn't get to taste Ukraine's cooking ever again. His cupped her face and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. Her skin felt as cold as ice, even through the gloves he was wearing.
"Bela, you have to learn to take care of yourself. I can't always be there to save you every time," he said, looking into her eyes. After all these years, they were the same colour as the night sky.
She nodded, biting her lip until it bled.
"Well, you better go in now. I want to stay out for a bit, so I'll be back later. Don't come looking for me, understand?"
She nodded again.
"Good girl." He kissed the top of her head and sent her back inside. After making sure that she was gone for good, Ivan pulled down the fang-like gates onto the ground, and locked it with an iron chain. Carefully, he draped the large bronze key over his neck and slid it down his shirt, shivering at the cold metal touching his skin.
Russia was all alone, sitting on the top of a few series of stairs. He was holding a handful of pebbles that he had grabbed from the garden, and was trying to see whether he could toss them as far as the other side of the plaza. Though, he only succeeded in throwing his arm right out of its socket, and had to stop. His bottom felt cold being pressed against sheer concrete, but it wasn't enough for him to want to stand up and seek warmth elsewhere. He remembered what Yao had once told him, that sitting on cold things would give him bad tummy aches.
He rested his head on an elbow and sighed.
Ivan missed Yao. Everything about him. His smiles, his eyes and hair, and how he smelled of roses on one day, then lavender on another. He wondered how his angel was doing, and whether Yao missed him as much as he did. Well, he believed that he did, or rather, he would like to believe so. At that thought, Ivan smiled absently for the first time in a while.
People here in the Kremlin treated him well. But, Ivan could smell bribery from a mile away. Yao was the only person in the world who was truly kind to Ivan, and not because he wanted something from him. He supposed that was the reason why he had been so lovestruck by him, and clung onto the man like a leech.
Though they only had a few weeks together, it was the best time of his life.
After spending his days in the Kremlin and being the target of peoples' scrutiny, at night, Ivan would close his eyes and replay those sun-kissed memories in his head. Memories of them walking through a field of dandelions, of them dipping their feet into a lake, of them finally getting married...
Well, most of them weren't even memories, but Ivan chose to believe that they were, for his own sake.
It made him happy.
He often wondered why everyone in the world couldn't be as nice as Yao, like those awful kids who had chased them.
Russia was lucky that time, because the days when they did catch up to him, they would beat him senseless. His one rib was still bruised from their last encounter, and it hurt to breathe.
Well, not everyone in the Kremlin was terrible. There was this one boy he had met several days ago at the dinner table who seemed pleasant enough. He was quiet, had very little to say, but at least he was a good listener. Unlike everyone else Russia had met here, the boy didn't see him as a dirty peasant from the fields, nor someone he must dote with gifts and compliments in order to fulfill his own selfish needs.
Though they had only seen each other on a few occasions, Russia's gut had told him that they were going to be friends for a long time.
Plus, his name was also Ivan.
"I can help you kill them, if you want," spoke his friend's voice from behind him. Russia turned back to see the other boy standing in front of him, his figure towering over his own sitting self. Ivan, the other boy, was standing so close that the tip of his leather boots could have very well made contact with Russia's bottom and kicked him down the flight of stairs.
Russia smiled and waved, thinking that he must have been so deeply immersed in his reverie to not have noticed the other. "Hey Ivan," he said friendly, feeling a little weird with pronouncing his own name, "How are you today?"
Russia gulped. He hoped that Ivan liked him as well, and would also want to be friends.
Ivan took a seat beside him, setting himself down gently. "I can help you kill them, if you want," he tried again.
Russia's eyes sparkled. "Really?" He said excitedly, clapping his hands, "You would really do that for me?"
Ivan's lips thinned into a smile. "Yes, that is what friends do for each other, correct?"
Russia nodded eagerly, like a dog saying "yes" to a bone.
Russia unclenched his heart a little and relaxed, glad that Ivan felt the same way too. When he felt it was safe, Russia asked the boy beside him, "So, were those kids mean to you too?"
"Their families poisoned my mother." Ivan stated, his eyes fixed in a straight line at whatever was in front of him. "They could never touch me, because I am heir to the throne. So, they had to take her instead." He stared back at Russia. "They had hurt you, and her, and they will pay for their misdeeds."
Russia frowned. Though he didn't even remember what his own mother looked like, or whether he had one at all, he could still feel Ivan's pain completely. If anyone dared to harm Bela, Yao, or anyone else he cared about, he would not hesitate to kill them, but not before making them suffer.
"You know what Ivan? You're right!" Russia replied, "I tried so many times to be nice to those meanies, but it didn't help. So yeah, there's no point in keeping these people alive anymore." He gave a cool shrug. "They don't make my life any easier, right?"
Ivan nodded once in agreement.
And, that was what Russia liked most about Ivan. He was really easy to talk to.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Ivan asked.
They were standing on top of a belfry, watching what was happening below.
There were a pack of dogs huddling around in a circle, gnawing and tearing at what looked like a pile of flesh. Blood dripped from their fangs and onto the floor, joining the red lake in which the animals were already standing. Hungry, or perhaps sadistic barks rumbled from deep within their bowels, echoed through the chilly morning air, and crashed into the stone walls of the Kremlin.
It was the first time they had been fed, in weeks.
What had now been reduced to dog food was once human. In fact, he was one of the kids who had been picking on Russia the day before. What looked like a burly, reasonably handsome young boy was now an indecipherable lump of ravaged meat, snapped ribs, and canine saliva. What sounded like screams and frantic footsteps had died down into squishing sounds of flesh being stepped on, and the occasional pop of joints being torn apart from their sockets.
"Oh, yes it is," was Russia's reply to Ivan's question. The last time he felt this excited was when he went to the circus a few months back.
There was a lady standing beside them, who was Ivan's personal servant. Russia turned to look at her, and saw that she didn't look too good. Her face had become white as chalk, as she stared at the commotion below. But as a mere servant, she bit her tongue from saying anything, lest her master, as volatile as he was, granted her the same fate.
Concerned, Russia walked over to her and asked politely, "Miss, are you now feeling well?" He tugged gently at her sleeve, hoping to get a response from her.
She quickly shuffled away. "Don't touch me!" She spat, upon reflex, and quickly covered her mouth as she did.
Russia had only planned to take her to his room and give her some of his flu medicine. That was all...
"Lay here Ivan, I'll be right back! ...J-Just don't d-die, okay?" Russia muttered, trying to choke back the tears that were threatening to fall. He ran to the water basin to wet the towel in his hand, ran back as quickly as his stubby legs were able, and set it upon Ivan's forehead.
Ivan chuckled. "Every human dies, Russia. What matters is how they have spent the time that they had."
Ivan had stepped onto the throne, declared himself the Tsar at age sixteen, and built an empire upon mountains of corpses. His army was one the most formidable forces in Europe, and successfully eradicated all competition. Of course, none of this could be done without his friend, his only friend, who had stayed by his side all these years.
Now as he laid upon his deathbed, with his blood-soaked memories haunting him, and the ghost of his son bearing a butcher knife against his neck, Ivan knew that Russia was the only silver lining onto which he could grasp.
Though, he was jealous that the little boy he had met a long time ago hadn't changed a bit, while he had aged beyond recognition. Ivan Vasilyvich wasn't the cruellest of them all, Fate was.
"Please don't go, I'm begging you," Russia cried, clutching Ivan's hands that were littered with wrinkles and scars.
"I'm sorry, Ivan..." he said, and closed his eyes one last time.
Notes:
- Parts of present-day Ukraine and Belarus belonged to the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth during, roughly, the 14th to 18th centuries.
- After the death of Ivan III, the boyars, a group of ruling Russian elites, caused much havoc within the royal court. They all wanted to seize the crown, until Ivan the Terrible rose to the top and put them in their place.
- Ivan the Terrible (1530-1584), Russia's little buddy, was the most notoriously cruel tsar in all of Russian history. Rumour has it that he had sent a pack of dogs to hunt down one of the boyar's sons, when they dared to question his power. Also, he had killed his own son in a fit of rage, though he deeply regretted it afterwards. Nevertheless, during his reign, he conquered much of Siberia and parts of Europe, and is one of the reasons why the country is so big today. I just thought he and Russia (the character) would be BFFs, since they have too much in common. xD In my headcanon, he was the one who taught Ivan Braginsky the birds and bees of sadism.