“No,” he said, his voice gone high and breathless. There had to be some mistake. Some mistake. An error in perception. An optical illusion. A dream, a bad dream. This was all a bad dream. It had to be. “No, n-no, god no…”
“Prussia!” chirped a voice from the door. “You are awake! I am glad the anesthesia has finally worn off.”
Gilbert did not have to see him. “What the fuck have you done to me!?” he shrieked. A dream. A sick joke. They were just trying to scare him. There was a logical explanation for this. Yes, yes.
The bed sagged as Ivan lowered himself down at Gilbert’s side. He over him, beaming as usual. “Declawed you, in a manner of speaking,” he said. “You’ve been a naughty kitty.” He ran his hand back through Gilbert’s white hair, and Gilbert wanted nothing more than to slap his hands away and claw his eyes out.
But he could not.
His breath heaved rapidly from his chest as he strained to regain control of the limbs he wanted to believe were still there.
“I brought you some lapsha,” Ivan said. “Soup is good when recovering from surgery, yes?” He scooped up Gilbert into his arms, and Gilbert yelped at how easily he was moved. “Oh, you are so light now!” Ivan cried, and his eyes sparkled like a delighted child’s.
And cradled in Ivan’s arms, head propped up by his arm like an infant, Gilbert couldn’t avoid looking down at himself and facing the truth. His arms and legs were gone, all gone, completely severed at the trunk. He was a torso and a head, a tiny convenient package for Ivan’s amusement. “Put me down,” Gilbert groaned. He clenched his eyes shut, couldn’t bear looking at himself any longer, and thrashed his body with all his might to escape the Russian’s grip. “Let me go!”
But Ivan only gripped him tighter and stilled his struggling. “Not until after you’ve eaten,” Ivan chided him.
Gilbert snarled and responded by trying to take a bite out of Ivan. He wouldn’t be subdued, not like this.
But Ivan easily caught Gilbert’s jaw before he could ever chomp down with one broad hand, and twisted Gilbert’s head to look him right in the eyes. “I could have your teeth pulled and feed you nothing but broth,” Ivan said, still smiling. “Would you like that?”
And Gilbert wanted to thrash, to push, to pry that hand off his face, to claw Ivan’s eyes out or at least punch that smug, innocent little smile off his face. He wanted to rip Ivan apart for doing this to him.
But he could not. He was helpless in Ivan’s arms as a little ragdoll.
Having his lands and people stripped from him, having his family and home stolen away, being made prisoner and set to work… that had all been one thing. But through it all, he had still had his Prussian pride, and his Prussian fighting spirit.
He could not fight any longer.
He would never fight again.
That was when Gilbert screamed, with all the strength of his lungs and all the power of his voice, tearing his throat and hurting even his ears. He screamed because he could do nothing else. He screamed because he was losing his very self.
Ivan took this opportunity to plunge a spoonful of noodles and broth into Gilbert’s mouth, so deep it gagged him. Gilbert choked off his screaming just long enough to dutifully close his lips around the spoon and take what he was fed. It was all he could do. When the spoon was drawn back, he opened his mouth to wail once more, only to be shut up again by another spoonful. He took the whole bowl this way, alternately screeching and moaning between spoonfuls. He had no appetite, for his stomach was twisted in horror and he was sure he would cough it all up later. But Ivan did not so much as slow down for him and made him eat up every drop and every last bit of mushroom and chicken.
“I think this is a win for both of us,” Ivan said as he fed his little pet. “I no longer have to worry about you running off and breaking my things, and you, you no longer have to work for me.”
Gilbert swallowed down the last mouthful and only nodded, staring blankly at the wall.
There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could do to protect himself. Nothing, nothing, nothing…
He writhed, futilely, and whimpered as Ivan laid him back down and tucked him in tight. “You rest, kisa,” said Ivan, stooping down to kiss Gilbert’s forehead and smooth back his hair. “I shall be back later to take you to the bathroom.”
“I want them back,” Gilbert breathed, and stared up into Ivan’s emotionless lavender eyes. “My arms. My legs. My homeland. I want them back.”
“Don’t be silly,” Ivan giggled, and stood back. “You will never have them back. What’s done is done.” He turned heel and made for the door, leaving Gilbert there to wait for his return. Alone. “See you soon, lastochka.” The door clicked shut and silence fell.
Silence, until Gilbert began to sob, tears rolling freely down his cheeks despite himself. He wanted to cover his face. To reach out to god for mercy. To shake his fists in rage at the sky. He wanted to kick these covers off him. To stand tall. To run and get far, far away from here.
He would never do these things.
There was no saving himself. And he would never fight for his Prussia again.
Re: Pet [3/?]
anonymous
March 20 2009, 01:37:32 UTC
Oh my god. That was so... brilliantly creepy. Prussia's reaction is perfect and Russia is so... holy shit Russia. Wow. Just. Wow. It was definitely amazing.
Re: Pet [3/?]
anonymous
March 20 2009, 02:21:32 UTC
Oh my god AUGH I HAVE CHILLS NOW. By which I mean, you are a master at this. Agreed. This is horrifying and amazingly written. safjldjsf DDDDDDDDDDDD: GILBERT
“Prussia!” chirped a voice from the door. “You are awake! I am glad the anesthesia has finally worn off.”
Gilbert did not have to see him. “What the fuck have you done to me!?” he shrieked. A dream. A sick joke. They were just trying to scare him. There was a logical explanation for this. Yes, yes.
The bed sagged as Ivan lowered himself down at Gilbert’s side. He over him, beaming as usual. “Declawed you, in a manner of speaking,” he said. “You’ve been a naughty kitty.” He ran his hand back through Gilbert’s white hair, and Gilbert wanted nothing more than to slap his hands away and claw his eyes out.
But he could not.
His breath heaved rapidly from his chest as he strained to regain control of the limbs he wanted to believe were still there.
“I brought you some lapsha,” Ivan said. “Soup is good when recovering from surgery, yes?” He scooped up Gilbert into his arms, and Gilbert yelped at how easily he was moved. “Oh, you are so light now!” Ivan cried, and his eyes sparkled like a delighted child’s.
And cradled in Ivan’s arms, head propped up by his arm like an infant, Gilbert couldn’t avoid looking down at himself and facing the truth. His arms and legs were gone, all gone, completely severed at the trunk. He was a torso and a head, a tiny convenient package for Ivan’s amusement. “Put me down,” Gilbert groaned. He clenched his eyes shut, couldn’t bear looking at himself any longer, and thrashed his body with all his might to escape the Russian’s grip. “Let me go!”
But Ivan only gripped him tighter and stilled his struggling. “Not until after you’ve eaten,” Ivan chided him.
Gilbert snarled and responded by trying to take a bite out of Ivan. He wouldn’t be subdued, not like this.
But Ivan easily caught Gilbert’s jaw before he could ever chomp down with one broad hand, and twisted Gilbert’s head to look him right in the eyes. “I could have your teeth pulled and feed you nothing but broth,” Ivan said, still smiling. “Would you like that?”
And Gilbert wanted to thrash, to push, to pry that hand off his face, to claw Ivan’s eyes out or at least punch that smug, innocent little smile off his face. He wanted to rip Ivan apart for doing this to him.
But he could not. He was helpless in Ivan’s arms as a little ragdoll.
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He could not fight any longer.
He would never fight again.
That was when Gilbert screamed, with all the strength of his lungs and all the power of his voice, tearing his throat and hurting even his ears. He screamed because he could do nothing else. He screamed because he was losing his very self.
Ivan took this opportunity to plunge a spoonful of noodles and broth into Gilbert’s mouth, so deep it gagged him. Gilbert choked off his screaming just long enough to dutifully close his lips around the spoon and take what he was fed. It was all he could do. When the spoon was drawn back, he opened his mouth to wail once more, only to be shut up again by another spoonful. He took the whole bowl this way, alternately screeching and moaning between spoonfuls. He had no appetite, for his stomach was twisted in horror and he was sure he would cough it all up later. But Ivan did not so much as slow down for him and made him eat up every drop and every last bit of mushroom and chicken.
“I think this is a win for both of us,” Ivan said as he fed his little pet. “I no longer have to worry about you running off and breaking my things, and you, you no longer have to work for me.”
Gilbert swallowed down the last mouthful and only nodded, staring blankly at the wall.
There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could do to protect himself. Nothing, nothing, nothing…
He writhed, futilely, and whimpered as Ivan laid him back down and tucked him in tight. “You rest, kisa,” said Ivan, stooping down to kiss Gilbert’s forehead and smooth back his hair. “I shall be back later to take you to the bathroom.”
“I want them back,” Gilbert breathed, and stared up into Ivan’s emotionless lavender eyes. “My arms. My legs. My homeland. I want them back.”
“Don’t be silly,” Ivan giggled, and stood back. “You will never have them back. What’s done is done.” He turned heel and made for the door, leaving Gilbert there to wait for his return. Alone. “See you soon, lastochka.” The door clicked shut and silence fell.
Silence, until Gilbert began to sob, tears rolling freely down his cheeks despite himself. He wanted to cover his face. To reach out to god for mercy. To shake his fists in rage at the sky. He wanted to kick these covers off him. To stand tall. To run and get far, far away from here.
He would never do these things.
There was no saving himself. And he would never fight for his Prussia again.
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So, uh, good job anon! (and I am now totally going to have nightmares, dammit)
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Please, do continue. I'll be watching for this obsessively.
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Plz continue this, Author anon!!
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This is delicious like stew, haha, thank you so much for this. Russia is absolutely perfect and Prussia is so completely screwed. I'm so excited.
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Not OP, but that news makes me so happy.
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^^ *not the author*
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