He'd insisted on the wedding being conducted in Russia, which suited her just fine. After all, she'd put so much planning into this, there was no way it could go wrong.
In the mirror, her face appeared to glow, though she couldn't guess if it was because of the rouge or because what they said about weddings were true. Then she picked up her cellphone and phoned home.
---
The ceremony was a grand affair, though the other nations were conspicuously absent. It merely strengthened her resolve to go through this, to alleviate her brother's loneliness. They stood at the alter, and he smiled, gently, sadly. At her. He was smiling at her. She could barely remember to speak her vow, so he speaks for her.
"With this hand I will lift your sorrows."
She had been planning for months and months, doing things as distasteful as talking civilly to America. And the bomb, of course, the bomb was important.
"Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine."
His voice was like a song to her and she could listen to it forever. Except that they didn't have forever, so she listens closely and hangs on to every word.
"With this candle, I will light your way into darkness..."
She would free him from this miserable world, free him from the fear and sorrow, because by now, America was probably retaliating to the Russian warhead that she'd sent his way, after months and months of fear-mongering on her side. And then her beloved brother would be free, free, free...
---
The soft, regretful smile on his face doesn't change as America wipes Belarus off the map of the world. He catches her as she falls, her eyes wide in confusion, her lips reddened now by more than rouge.
"It's alright," he tells her, cradling her like a child, holding her closer than he'd ever held her before.
He'd known, and, as bad as his relationship had been with the US, all it took was a couple of phonecalls to convince them that a certain former-Soviet state had gone rogue and was plotting to destroy the world.
"It's alright," he coos to her as the life slips from her beautiful blue eyes. "What's left of you will be a part of me now. Isn't that what you'd always wanted?"
And she smiles, a real smile, a rare smile, a smile that would never be seen again in this world.
"F... fini...sh... it..." she rasps out.
He obliges.
"With this ring, I ask you to be mine."
As her eyes slide shut for the final time, he picks up her body and declares, with a smile on his face and a spring in his step and a tear in his eye,
In the mirror, her face appeared to glow, though she couldn't guess if it was because of the rouge or because what they said about weddings were true. Then she picked up her cellphone and phoned home.
---
The ceremony was a grand affair, though the other nations were conspicuously absent. It merely strengthened her resolve to go through this, to alleviate her brother's loneliness. They stood at the alter, and he smiled, gently, sadly. At her. He was smiling at her. She could barely remember to speak her vow, so he speaks for her.
"With this hand I will lift your sorrows."
She had been planning for months and months, doing things as distasteful as talking civilly to America. And the bomb, of course, the bomb was important.
"Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine."
His voice was like a song to her and she could listen to it forever. Except that they didn't have forever, so she listens closely and hangs on to every word.
"With this candle, I will light your way into darkness..."
She would free him from this miserable world, free him from the fear and sorrow, because by now, America was probably retaliating to the Russian warhead that she'd sent his way, after months and months of fear-mongering on her side. And then her beloved brother would be free, free, free...
---
The soft, regretful smile on his face doesn't change as America wipes Belarus off the map of the world. He catches her as she falls, her eyes wide in confusion, her lips reddened now by more than rouge.
"It's alright," he tells her, cradling her like a child, holding her closer than he'd ever held her before.
He'd known, and, as bad as his relationship had been with the US, all it took was a couple of phonecalls to convince them that a certain former-Soviet state had gone rogue and was plotting to destroy the world.
"It's alright," he coos to her as the life slips from her beautiful blue eyes. "What's left of you will be a part of me now. Isn't that what you'd always wanted?"
And she smiles, a real smile, a rare smile, a smile that would never be seen again in this world.
"F... fini...sh... it..." she rasps out.
He obliges.
"With this ring, I ask you to be mine."
As her eyes slide shut for the final time, he picks up her body and declares, with a smile on his face and a spring in his step and a tear in his eye,
"There, we are wed."
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