Red Fall: 20/?
anonymous
June 29 2009, 03:07:44 UTC
Toris compulsively kneaded his hands, his mind flickering back to dinner. It had taken both of his brothers to calm him, and even then it had taken nearly half-an-hour.
He didn’t used to be like this.
He used to be able to handle life with Ivan; the constant mental barrage, the violent beatings paired with gentle touches, complete isolation for weeks at a time; he’d made it through it all, his tears having run dry after only a few days. Then why-why was this any different?
Because it was America.
The ‘Land of the Free’ and ‘The Home of the Brave,’ the country that always leant a helping hand, that built up its own enemies so they could be free too. The Lithuanian felt his hands involuntary clench.
Weren’t he and his brothers enough to push around? No; he was never satisfied, not until he got exactly what he wanted, not a breath less.
But Alfred’s realization at dinner left Toris hopeful, gave him a reason to believe that Alfred was twisting himself away from Ivan’s grasp. A smile blossomed on his face; he was so glad! The American would finally be able to escape and give the Russian what he truly deserved.
Tucking this thought away, the brunette gently rapped against the door to Alfred’s room; his brothers had speculated that Ivan was out (since they hadn’t seen him for several hours) and the only place the other could be was in his room.
No answer.
Eyebrows arching in surprise, Toris tested the knob, and, finding it unlocked, let the door swing wide. The room was blanketed in darkness, the moon casting pale figures across the bed and floor. Fumbling for the light, the Lithuanian tried to discern shapes in the inky black.
“Alfred? Are you asleep? You didn’t get much dinner, so I thought I’d-”
Flick.
Skin, everywhere; tangled limbs and rumpled sheets. The dirty, sultry smell of sex and sweat permeated the air, causing Toris’s stomach to contract painfully.
“Ah, my Liet; you are a little late to be joining, da?”
Lips trembling, the Lithuanian slowly met the violet irises of Ivan, who was no longer bothering to hide his shadow edged smile. Toris’s whole body was vibrating as the Russian trailed a single finger along the contours of Alfred’s motionless form.
“I-Ivan,” the brunette choked out, forgetting his formalities, “you-you didn’t…”
“Hm? Didn’t what, little Liet?” At this moment, Alfred stirred and Lithuania’s breath caught in his chest. The American blinked sleepily as he leaned against Ivan’s sitting shape. Nuzzling his captor’s neck, Alfred planted a shy kiss on his throat; he hadn’t even noticed Toris in the doorway.
“Ivan,” Alfred whispered, his voice still warm with afterglow, the thin sheets protecting his modesty shifting, “I love you.”
As the Russian held younger country, whose head was now resting comfortably resting in the well-placed crook, he smiled at the trembling man, the smirk vile and sick.
Toris suddenly felt light-headed and ill; he faintly felt his hand cover his mouth, bile at the back of his throat, and his mind was beginning to swim. Wait-Ivan was mouthing something-
I win.
The Lithuanian barely felt it as he crumpled to the floor.
((A-Anon here! First off, I love all of you guys for your awesome comments! <3 Second, I think that tommorrow's update will be the last (unless the ending goes really long XD); I'm not trying to cut you guys off, but the story is ready to be wrapped up (and you all are too good for filler :3). Anyway, comments and criticism are always appreciated! I think you'll like the last part. ;D
P.S.- A-Anon has never written (almost) smut before; she blushed the entire time. XD
Re: Red Fall: 20/?
anonymous
June 29 2009, 03:25:14 UTC
*faints with Liet... for completely different reasons.* This... This is just. Words can't describe it. Or they can, but there's a reason I don't fill these things XD
Also Recaptcha: Speckled Heatfelt... *cries while hugging Alfred*
Re: Red Fall: 20/?
anonymous
June 29 2009, 03:32:44 UTC
OH SHITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT---- THIS HAS BECOME MY CURRENT MOST FAVORITE FANFIC ON THIS WHOLE KINK THREAD. CAPS CANNOT EXPRESS MY REACTION TO THIS. I-I-I'M SOOO INCOHERENT RIGHT NOW ;W; HERE! HAVE MY SOUL!
Re: Red Fall: 20/?
anonymous
June 29 2009, 04:16:59 UTC
OP is sad to hear that tomorrow would be the end of this AWESOME story D: (I hope ending will end up being really long lol) but like HOLY CRAP ALMOST SMUT IS INCREDIBLY HOT (my imagination ran with it) Luck is with Ivan right now poor Liet, it seems every time he finds hope again he gets slam right back down. I do wonder how this'll end. Will Liet get to be a hero and kick ass? xD
Red Fall: 21/?
anonymous
June 30 2009, 01:44:49 UTC
Please check the Author's Notes at the bottom after reading. Please pardon any errors and enjoy. :)
A month.
To the personified countries, most of whom had lived hundreds, if not thousands, of years, this period was merely a drop in the ocean of time.
Arthur stared at the steaming cup of Earl Grey, the vapors twisting and curling into the air.
Then why had it felt like eternity?
Even in the darkest periods in his history, never had it felt so long; minutes ticked by as if they were hours and the sun and the moon no longer seemed to want to meet. It had been like this ever since-
The Englishman buried his face in his hands, threading his hair through his fingers.
Alfred…
Numbly, he realized that the meeting would be starting soon. Tossing a few creased and rumpled bills onto the table, Arthur drew his coat tight around him and exited the small coffee shop, his teacup untouched.
It was bitterly cold.
Arthur mentally snorted; suppose that’s what you got for holding the meeting in Vienna in the winter. They would have met in New York, but-
“That insufferable git,” the blonde mumbled quietly, his words swept up by the wind.
Oh, Alfred.
Not a single country had seen the American for an entire month; no e-mails, no bubbling telephone calls, not even a flaming text message. America had closed itself off from the world; no one could get in, and no one could get out. He had-he had heard that the country had been left almost crippled from the Russian’s last assault, but he hadn’t imagined...
He told himself the tears were only from the cold as salty drops leaked from his eyes; he would have helped, dammit! Men, supplies; something! But Alfred had only smiled, laughing boisterously as he smacked England across the back, assuring the elder that the Hero would decimate that ‘commie bastard.’ Bushy eyebrows knitted in concern (the smile was a little too happy, he thought), but he had nodded in assent, agreeing with the spoken sentiments.
Arthur roughly wiped the annoyances away.
How wrong they had all been.
Finally arriving at the headquarters, he pulled the doors open, a blast of heat rushing past him. He made his way to the conference room, deep in thought and oblivious to everything around him.
When he looked up he was suddenly there, a few seats at the table already occupied, but most still empty; he must have been earlier than he thought. Throwing his coat over his seat, he cast a wistful glance to the chair beside him, one that had been empty for a few meetings now…
Red Fall: 22/?
anonymous
June 30 2009, 01:48:17 UTC
Arthur ripped himself away to meet Francis’s gaze; he looked tired, deep, dark circles engraved on his normally pristine face.
“Francis…” England began, kneading his temples, “Not today. Just-just not today,” he finished, swallowing before his voice cracked. The Frenchmen gripped Arthur’s hand tightly, attempting a comforting squeeze.
“We’ll get him back,” Francis said, his tone unusually serious and soft.
“I’ll hold you to that, frog,” Arthur managed, his first attempted smile in weeks small and broken on his face.
As Francis returned the sad excuse for a smile, Wang entered the room, his mouth set in a grim line. As he moved towards his seat, China’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.
“Canada, aru?”
Said country raised his head from his arms; he had been attempting to sleep before the meeting started, since he hadn’t been getting any at home. Being so close to America, he had been kept up all night with phone calls and demanding questions, ones that he had no answers to.
“A-ah, y-yes, China? W-was there something you needed?” the Canadian said softly, his red-rimmed eyes prominent against his pale skin.
“How did you get here so quickly? I just passed you in the hallway, aru.” Matthew looked perplexed.
“But, China, I’ve been here working all morning; I haven’t left this room for almost two hours.” Wang thought for a moment and then shook his head.
“Ah, I suppose it could have been someone else then; I apologize for bothering you, aru,” he said, giving Matthew a slight bow and moving towards his seat. The Canadian returned his head to his arms, praying for a moment of peace.
Arthur looked around the table; most of the countries had filed through the doors and were now sitting quietly in their respective places, shifting uncomfortably. Not even Feliciano was speaking in more than a hushed whisper.
The doors opened once more and a collective gasp was heard; the three Baltics occupied the frame, their faces eerily blank as they made there way into the room. They had been absent for the past several meetings along with…others. A rush of people made their way over to the brothers, questions tumbling from their lips faster than the new arrivals could answer.
“Guys, hey! Give them some room!” England said angrily, trying to calm the quickly building fervor as he pushed through the crowd. The barrage slowed immediately as decorum returned; taking a moment to look over the brothers, a realization was reached: the Baltics looked terrified.
“Toris,” Arthur began as gently as possible, “where have you and your brothers been for the last few meetings?”
There was no answer; Latvia was beginning to tremble and Eduard was boring a hole in the floor with his gaze. The eldest, who had white gauze wrapped tightly around one eye, didn’t seem to have heard. A murmur rippled through the growing mass of countries.
“Toris,” Arthur tried again, “What happened to your eye?” At this, the Lithuanian visibly tensed, his breathing slightly accelerated, but still no answer. Raivis and Eduard shifted uncomfortably, their hands finding each other’s and gripping tightly. England knew he shouldn’t push, but he had to know.
“Toris,” Arthur said, tone soft, “Where is America?”
Red Fall: 23/?
anonymous
June 30 2009, 01:53:34 UTC
Deafening silence descended upon the room, all attention on the three broken countries before them.
Laughter.
“Hehe…Aha-Ahahaha,” the Lithuanian chuckled, the sounds forced and sick; he met the gaze of the crowd, his eyes blank and his smile crooked, “I-I knew an America once; he was a HERO and HEROES never lose. HEROES save people; they save everyone and everything; all except themselves. Haha…isn’t that funny?”
The crowd watched in shock as Toris laughed, the sounds so unnatural and vile; his eyes misty, Latvia took one of his brother’s arms, Eduard the other. The youngest looked to England, his eyes full of unshed tears.
“Arthur; please let us pass,” the voice was tired and quiet, the tone saturated with pain.
“B-but America-”
“America is dead,” Estonia whispered harshly, his throat thick with emotion, “Now move.”
Numbly, England stepped aside, watching as the brothers sat Toris in his chair and began to comfort him, whispering in low, muted tones.
D-dead…?
“Well, um,” Arthur began, his voice shaking, “I-If everyone is here, we s-should start…”
“You are forgetting someone important, da?”
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees, the tension tight and suffocating. Many countries met the newcomer with a glare, while others shied away from the feeling of darkness that radiated off of him.
“Braginski,” England growled, his blood beginning to simmer and his heart pounding loudly in his ears. France gripped Arthur’s shoulder tightly, a reminder to remain calm.
“Ah, comrade,” Francis said, the words spoken with disgust, “you have been absent for the last few meetings as well, non? Where have you been?” Ivan smiled warmly at him.
“I have only been tying a few loose ends together, friend; after all, alliances take a great deal of work to form, da?”
The room became painfully cold and small, the last spoken words ringing in the countries’ ears.
“What alliance?” Germany finally breathed, asking the question on everyone’s mind; Russia and America had both entered the war without allies.
A dangerous smirk; the Russian casually leaned against the doorframe, his black military uniform perfectly ironed and accented with scarlet.
“Why do you not inform them of our agreement, my comrade? I think that they are dying to learn, da?”
A form stepped shyly from behind Ivan; tall and slight, the young man gripped a black briefcase with gloved hands, the hold firm. Sandy blond locks grazed his shoulders, cobalt eyes glinting behind newly made lenses. A military cap was balanced on his head, the outfit seeming even more sinister and foreign than on his violet-eyed partner. He smiled softly, giving a polite bow to the room.
He looked so much like his brother.
“Alfred,” Arthur managed, his voice dying in his throat. The other countries stood in dumb-founded silence. But-but Estonia had said…
“Mon dieu, America, we thought you were dead,” Francis said, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.
Alfred made eye contact with the Frenchman, his face still composed into a genial mask.
“I apologize for my extended absence from this gathering; I have been recovering from an extensive illness and was unable to attend. I hope you can forgive me.”
Red Fall: 24/25
anonymous
June 30 2009, 01:58:18 UTC
Eyebrows furrowed; extensive illness? America was sick? The blonde turned towards Ivan, a faint blush blooming on his cheeks.
“However, I have been lucky that Moth-I mean, Ivan, has been there to help me through my recovery. Without him I wouldn’t have been able to regain my memory, and for that, I am very grateful.”
Jaws fell slack around the table. America was grateful to Ivan? Were they not in the middle of a now five-year conflict? Regain what memory? What on earth-
“What the fuck did you do to him, Braginski?” Arthur began slowly, slamming his fist against the table, “You sonofabitch! What the fuck did you do?!”
England’s tone startled America, causing the sky-eyed man to retreat to comfort in his captor’s hold. France, while as upset as England, held the other country back.
“Angleterre, calm down!” Francis said harshly, jerking Arthur back in his grasp. Ivan mentally laughed at the spectacle before him; he had expected a similar response, though the death-glares from around the table were an unexpected, but cute, touch.
“Ivan…” Said country gazed down into his charge’s hurt eyes, “H-he just started yelling; did I-did I do something wrong?”
“No, little patriot; they have always been like this. They are jealous of what we share, do not mind them,” the Russian said. Suddenly, a thought came to Ivan, and his smirk widened.
Oh, this was too perfect.
“I-Ivan? Is there-”
Warmth; contact with his love; Alfred pressed into the kiss, having become slightly more courageous over the passing weeks. They parted and Ivan took a moment to appreciate the flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes; he turned back to the table, which had become painfully silent again, and smiled.
“As you see, I have done nothing that my comrade has not wanted. Is that not the case, Alfred?”
It was the first time Ivan had called him by his name.
Happy tears formed at the corners of his eyes and he glowed with bliss, taking the Russian’s hand into his own.
“Yes, yes it is; I’ll always love you, Ivan.”
Ivan almost couldn’t look at the table; he thought he might collapse into mirth if he did so. Somehow, he mustered the composure and faced the rest of the world, his ‘love’ leaning against him.
Toris had started to sob in his seat, held by Latvia, whose own cheeks were streaked with tears. Some of the other countries had already deciphered what had happened and were staring blankly at the table, or anywhere away from the horrid sight in front of them.
“You broke him,” England mumbled, “Oh god-Oh god, my-my Alfred, my son...” He went slack in France’s hold as he began to cry, his frame shuddering and shaking. Germany’s face was stony as he addressed the Russian.
“We will not stand for this, Ivan; I hope you know what you have started,” Ludwig said, his tone a mixture of ice and steel.
“Do not worry,” the sweet tone purred, “I am most certainly prepared.”
Leaving his protesting partner, Ivan set the briefcase on the table and clicked it open. It was overflowing with documents, though they looked like copies of each other. Backing away from the table, he and his Alfred proceeded towards the door. Ivan looked over his shoulder at the still shocked countries.
“Declarations of War,” the Russian hummed happily, “one for each of the major players in the room. My partner and I look forward to rubbing your faces into the dirt, da?” Laughter echoed about the room, “I hope you are ready to play, comrades.”
Ivan’s laughter continued as he exited the room, the Baltics standing, sniffling, to follow, and one Alfred F. Jones, clinging contentedly to his ‘Mother’s’ arm.
Red Fall: 25/25
anonymous
June 30 2009, 02:03:30 UTC
It had taken almost twenty years, but the United Soviet- American People’s Republic had conquered all of the world’s major powers. It had taken great sacrifices and ingenious military skill, but they had triumphed, and the beginnings of a new world lay at their feet.
Alfred served as Ivan’s right-hand man, his closest confident and friend, his lover even, the blonde would sometimes bashfully admit. Everything had come together for them; at the top of the world, the view was beautiful, and Ivan was his sun amongst the clouds.
The bespectacled man smiled as he made his way down the hallway, his perfectly shined black boots clicking on the floor beneath him. He sighed blissfully.
One couldn’t help but wonder how everything came together so perfectly.
He opened the storage room door; he was looking for a vase to put the new batch of sunflowers in. Ivan had instructed him to only look in the main storage area, but he just couldn’t find the right vase, so he strayed into the older rooms.
Alfred glowed; Ivan would be so happy!
Rummaging through the old boxes, the former American wiped away the dust as he continued to search. A metallic tinkle caught his attention. Squinting and fumbling through the crate, he discovered it was a pair of old dog tags. He wiped away the caked on grime and rust with his thumb, scraping when needed with his nail, though he couldn’t get all of it off. Finally, he was able to make out a few words.
Smith Private First Class Blood Type O
Click.
Alfred collapsed to his knees as everything came rushing back.
/End. (Pages-30, Words-11,647)
Crap, this totally needs a sequel now (And the ending was six pages long; LOL, whut?). XD I didn’t intend for it to sound so…cliffhangery, but, yeah. *angsts over sequel neediness* I don’t even know how it would continue. ^^;
Anyway, I want to thank all of you guys for your amazing comments over the course of this story! As a first time poster, and a fledging, hopeful writer, they really meant a lot. <3 And now I have a collection of internets, broken heart pieces, an abused caps lock and…a soul? I should probably give that back. ^^;
A special thanks to the OP for an awesome prompt. ;D
A-Anon hopes the ending was satisfying and the story enjoyable; please leave comments if you thought so!
If you have a question about the story post it here and I will be more than happy to answer; if we run out of comment space you could always e-mail me at aslywriter@yahoo.com if you still have questions or want to discuss the story. I still remain anonymous (the account contains no identifying material), as the rules request, so I thought it was appropriate.
Re: Red Fall: 25/25
anonymous
June 30 2009, 02:09:13 UTC
fsdakfjadsfa;asfdas
A-Anon! Why ;_; You have completely and utterly broken my heart and--guh.
I loved reading it. But at the same time... T_T
For a first time poster and a fledging writer, you did extraordinarily well. And, well, this anon would fucking love a sequel. You left it at the perfect spot for a sequel and this...it's just so sad. Please...it's just so heart breaking as is T___T
He didn’t used to be like this.
He used to be able to handle life with Ivan; the constant mental barrage, the violent beatings paired with gentle touches, complete isolation for weeks at a time; he’d made it through it all, his tears having run dry after only a few days. Then why-why was this any different?
Because it was America.
The ‘Land of the Free’ and ‘The Home of the Brave,’ the country that always leant a helping hand, that built up its own enemies so they could be free too. The Lithuanian felt his hands involuntary clench.
Weren’t he and his brothers enough to push around? No; he was never satisfied, not until he got exactly what he wanted, not a breath less.
But Alfred’s realization at dinner left Toris hopeful, gave him a reason to believe that Alfred was twisting himself away from Ivan’s grasp. A smile blossomed on his face; he was so glad! The American would finally be able to escape and give the Russian what he truly deserved.
Tucking this thought away, the brunette gently rapped against the door to Alfred’s room; his brothers had speculated that Ivan was out (since they hadn’t seen him for several hours) and the only place the other could be was in his room.
No answer.
Eyebrows arching in surprise, Toris tested the knob, and, finding it unlocked, let the door swing wide. The room was blanketed in darkness, the moon casting pale figures across the bed and floor. Fumbling for the light, the Lithuanian tried to discern shapes in the inky black.
“Alfred? Are you asleep? You didn’t get much dinner, so I thought I’d-”
Flick.
Skin, everywhere; tangled limbs and rumpled sheets. The dirty, sultry smell of sex and sweat permeated the air, causing Toris’s stomach to contract painfully.
“Ah, my Liet; you are a little late to be joining, da?”
Lips trembling, the Lithuanian slowly met the violet irises of Ivan, who was no longer bothering to hide his shadow edged smile. Toris’s whole body was vibrating as the Russian trailed a single finger along the contours of Alfred’s motionless form.
“I-Ivan,” the brunette choked out, forgetting his formalities, “you-you didn’t…”
“Hm? Didn’t what, little Liet?” At this moment, Alfred stirred and Lithuania’s breath caught in his chest. The American blinked sleepily as he leaned against Ivan’s sitting shape. Nuzzling his captor’s neck, Alfred planted a shy kiss on his throat; he hadn’t even noticed Toris in the doorway.
“Ivan,” Alfred whispered, his voice still warm with afterglow, the thin sheets protecting his modesty shifting, “I love you.”
As the Russian held younger country, whose head was now resting comfortably resting in the well-placed crook, he smiled at the trembling man, the smirk vile and sick.
Toris suddenly felt light-headed and ill; he faintly felt his hand cover his mouth, bile at the back of his throat, and his mind was beginning to swim. Wait-Ivan was mouthing something-
I win.
The Lithuanian barely felt it as he crumpled to the floor.
((A-Anon here! First off, I love all of you guys for your awesome comments! <3 Second, I think that tommorrow's update will be the last (unless the ending goes really long XD); I'm not trying to cut you guys off, but the story is ready to be wrapped up (and you all are too good for filler :3). Anyway, comments and criticism are always appreciated! I think you'll like the last part. ;D
P.S.- A-Anon has never written (almost) smut before; she blushed the entire time. XD
Translations:
Мой милый- my sweet (boy), Мой любимый- my love)
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This...
This is just. Words can't describe it. Or they can, but there's a reason I don't fill these things XD
Also Recaptcha: Speckled Heatfelt... *cries while hugging Alfred*
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THIS HAS BECOME MY CURRENT MOST FAVORITE FANFIC ON THIS WHOLE KINK THREAD.
CAPS CANNOT EXPRESS MY REACTION TO THIS. I-I-I'M SOOO INCOHERENT RIGHT NOW ;W;
HERE!
HAVE MY SOUL!
<3333333333
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...which means I can't wait for the next chapters. Thank you for writing this... this is such an emotional piece!
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but like HOLY CRAP
ALMOST SMUT IS INCREDIBLY HOT (my imagination ran with it)
Luck is with Ivan right now
poor Liet, it seems every time he finds hope again he gets slam right back down. I do wonder how this'll end. Will Liet get to be a hero and kick ass? xD
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A month.
To the personified countries, most of whom had lived hundreds, if not thousands, of years, this period was merely a drop in the ocean of time.
Arthur stared at the steaming cup of Earl Grey, the vapors twisting and curling into the air.
Then why had it felt like eternity?
Even in the darkest periods in his history, never had it felt so long; minutes ticked by as if they were hours and the sun and the moon no longer seemed to want to meet. It had been like this ever since-
The Englishman buried his face in his hands, threading his hair through his fingers.
Alfred…
Numbly, he realized that the meeting would be starting soon. Tossing a few creased and rumpled bills onto the table, Arthur drew his coat tight around him and exited the small coffee shop, his teacup untouched.
It was bitterly cold.
Arthur mentally snorted; suppose that’s what you got for holding the meeting in Vienna in the winter. They would have met in New York, but-
“That insufferable git,” the blonde mumbled quietly, his words swept up by the wind.
Oh, Alfred.
Not a single country had seen the American for an entire month; no e-mails, no bubbling telephone calls, not even a flaming text message. America had closed itself off from the world; no one could get in, and no one could get out. He had-he had heard that the country had been left almost crippled from the Russian’s last assault, but he hadn’t imagined...
He told himself the tears were only from the cold as salty drops leaked from his eyes; he would have helped, dammit! Men, supplies; something! But Alfred had only smiled, laughing boisterously as he smacked England across the back, assuring the elder that the Hero would decimate that ‘commie bastard.’ Bushy eyebrows knitted in concern (the smile was a little too happy, he thought), but he had nodded in assent, agreeing with the spoken sentiments.
Arthur roughly wiped the annoyances away.
How wrong they had all been.
Finally arriving at the headquarters, he pulled the doors open, a blast of heat rushing past him. He made his way to the conference room, deep in thought and oblivious to everything around him.
When he looked up he was suddenly there, a few seats at the table already occupied, but most still empty; he must have been earlier than he thought. Throwing his coat over his seat, he cast a wistful glance to the chair beside him, one that had been empty for a few meetings now…
“Mon cher, it does no good to think about it.”
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“Francis…” England began, kneading his temples, “Not today. Just-just not today,” he finished, swallowing before his voice cracked. The Frenchmen gripped Arthur’s hand tightly, attempting a comforting squeeze.
“We’ll get him back,” Francis said, his tone unusually serious and soft.
“I’ll hold you to that, frog,” Arthur managed, his first attempted smile in weeks small and broken on his face.
As Francis returned the sad excuse for a smile, Wang entered the room, his mouth set in a grim line. As he moved towards his seat, China’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.
“Canada, aru?”
Said country raised his head from his arms; he had been attempting to sleep before the meeting started, since he hadn’t been getting any at home. Being so close to America, he had been kept up all night with phone calls and demanding questions, ones that he had no answers to.
“A-ah, y-yes, China? W-was there something you needed?” the Canadian said softly, his red-rimmed eyes prominent against his pale skin.
“How did you get here so quickly? I just passed you in the hallway, aru.” Matthew looked perplexed.
“But, China, I’ve been here working all morning; I haven’t left this room for almost two hours.” Wang thought for a moment and then shook his head.
“Ah, I suppose it could have been someone else then; I apologize for bothering you, aru,” he said, giving Matthew a slight bow and moving towards his seat. The Canadian returned his head to his arms, praying for a moment of peace.
Arthur looked around the table; most of the countries had filed through the doors and were now sitting quietly in their respective places, shifting uncomfortably. Not even Feliciano was speaking in more than a hushed whisper.
The doors opened once more and a collective gasp was heard; the three Baltics occupied the frame, their faces eerily blank as they made there way into the room. They had been absent for the past several meetings along with…others. A rush of people made their way over to the brothers, questions tumbling from their lips faster than the new arrivals could answer.
“Guys, hey! Give them some room!” England said angrily, trying to calm the quickly building fervor as he pushed through the crowd. The barrage slowed immediately as decorum returned; taking a moment to look over the brothers, a realization was reached: the Baltics looked terrified.
“Toris,” Arthur began as gently as possible, “where have you and your brothers been for the last few meetings?”
There was no answer; Latvia was beginning to tremble and Eduard was boring a hole in the floor with his gaze. The eldest, who had white gauze wrapped tightly around one eye, didn’t seem to have heard. A murmur rippled through the growing mass of countries.
“Toris,” Arthur tried again, “What happened to your eye?” At this, the Lithuanian visibly tensed, his breathing slightly accelerated, but still no answer. Raivis and Eduard shifted uncomfortably, their hands finding each other’s and gripping tightly. England knew he shouldn’t push, but he had to know.
“Toris,” Arthur said, tone soft, “Where is America?”
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Laughter.
“Hehe…Aha-Ahahaha,” the Lithuanian chuckled, the sounds forced and sick; he met the gaze of the crowd, his eyes blank and his smile crooked, “I-I knew an America once; he was a HERO and HEROES never lose. HEROES save people; they save everyone and everything; all except themselves. Haha…isn’t that funny?”
The crowd watched in shock as Toris laughed, the sounds so unnatural and vile; his eyes misty, Latvia took one of his brother’s arms, Eduard the other. The youngest looked to England, his eyes full of unshed tears.
“Arthur; please let us pass,” the voice was tired and quiet, the tone saturated with pain.
“B-but America-”
“America is dead,” Estonia whispered harshly, his throat thick with emotion, “Now move.”
Numbly, England stepped aside, watching as the brothers sat Toris in his chair and began to comfort him, whispering in low, muted tones.
D-dead…?
“Well, um,” Arthur began, his voice shaking, “I-If everyone is here, we s-should start…”
“You are forgetting someone important, da?”
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees, the tension tight and suffocating. Many countries met the newcomer with a glare, while others shied away from the feeling of darkness that radiated off of him.
“Braginski,” England growled, his blood beginning to simmer and his heart pounding loudly in his ears. France gripped Arthur’s shoulder tightly, a reminder to remain calm.
“Ah, comrade,” Francis said, the words spoken with disgust, “you have been absent for the last few meetings as well, non? Where have you been?” Ivan smiled warmly at him.
“I have only been tying a few loose ends together, friend; after all, alliances take a great deal of work to form, da?”
The room became painfully cold and small, the last spoken words ringing in the countries’ ears.
“What alliance?” Germany finally breathed, asking the question on everyone’s mind; Russia and America had both entered the war without allies.
A dangerous smirk; the Russian casually leaned against the doorframe, his black military uniform perfectly ironed and accented with scarlet.
“Why do you not inform them of our agreement, my comrade? I think that they are dying to learn, da?”
A form stepped shyly from behind Ivan; tall and slight, the young man gripped a black briefcase with gloved hands, the hold firm. Sandy blond locks grazed his shoulders, cobalt eyes glinting behind newly made lenses. A military cap was balanced on his head, the outfit seeming even more sinister and foreign than on his violet-eyed partner. He smiled softly, giving a polite bow to the room.
He looked so much like his brother.
“Alfred,” Arthur managed, his voice dying in his throat. The other countries stood in dumb-founded silence. But-but Estonia had said…
“Mon dieu, America, we thought you were dead,” Francis said, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.
Alfred made eye contact with the Frenchman, his face still composed into a genial mask.
“I apologize for my extended absence from this gathering; I have been recovering from an extensive illness and was unable to attend. I hope you can forgive me.”
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“However, I have been lucky that Moth-I mean, Ivan, has been there to help me through my recovery. Without him I wouldn’t have been able to regain my memory, and for that, I am very grateful.”
Jaws fell slack around the table. America was grateful to Ivan? Were they not in the middle of a now five-year conflict? Regain what memory? What on earth-
“What the fuck did you do to him, Braginski?” Arthur began slowly, slamming his fist against the table, “You sonofabitch! What the fuck did you do?!”
England’s tone startled America, causing the sky-eyed man to retreat to comfort in his captor’s hold. France, while as upset as England, held the other country back.
“Angleterre, calm down!” Francis said harshly, jerking Arthur back in his grasp. Ivan mentally laughed at the spectacle before him; he had expected a similar response, though the death-glares from around the table were an unexpected, but cute, touch.
“Ivan…” Said country gazed down into his charge’s hurt eyes, “H-he just started yelling; did I-did I do something wrong?”
“No, little patriot; they have always been like this. They are jealous of what we share, do not mind them,” the Russian said. Suddenly, a thought came to Ivan, and his smirk widened.
Oh, this was too perfect.
“I-Ivan? Is there-”
Warmth; contact with his love; Alfred pressed into the kiss, having become slightly more courageous over the passing weeks. They parted and Ivan took a moment to appreciate the flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes; he turned back to the table, which had become painfully silent again, and smiled.
“As you see, I have done nothing that my comrade has not wanted. Is that not the case, Alfred?”
It was the first time Ivan had called him by his name.
Happy tears formed at the corners of his eyes and he glowed with bliss, taking the Russian’s hand into his own.
“Yes, yes it is; I’ll always love you, Ivan.”
Ivan almost couldn’t look at the table; he thought he might collapse into mirth if he did so. Somehow, he mustered the composure and faced the rest of the world, his ‘love’ leaning against him.
Toris had started to sob in his seat, held by Latvia, whose own cheeks were streaked with tears. Some of the other countries had already deciphered what had happened and were staring blankly at the table, or anywhere away from the horrid sight in front of them.
“You broke him,” England mumbled, “Oh god-Oh god, my-my Alfred, my son...” He went slack in France’s hold as he began to cry, his frame shuddering and shaking. Germany’s face was stony as he addressed the Russian.
“We will not stand for this, Ivan; I hope you know what you have started,” Ludwig said, his tone a mixture of ice and steel.
“Do not worry,” the sweet tone purred, “I am most certainly prepared.”
Leaving his protesting partner, Ivan set the briefcase on the table and clicked it open. It was overflowing with documents, though they looked like copies of each other. Backing away from the table, he and his Alfred proceeded towards the door. Ivan looked over his shoulder at the still shocked countries.
“Declarations of War,” the Russian hummed happily, “one for each of the major players in the room. My partner and I look forward to rubbing your faces into the dirt, da?” Laughter echoed about the room, “I hope you are ready to play, comrades.”
Ivan’s laughter continued as he exited the room, the Baltics standing, sniffling, to follow, and one Alfred F. Jones, clinging contentedly to his ‘Mother’s’ arm.
He had never been happier.
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Alfred served as Ivan’s right-hand man, his closest confident and friend, his lover even, the blonde would sometimes bashfully admit. Everything had come together for them; at the top of the world, the view was beautiful, and Ivan was his sun amongst the clouds.
The bespectacled man smiled as he made his way down the hallway, his perfectly shined black boots clicking on the floor beneath him. He sighed blissfully.
One couldn’t help but wonder how everything came together so perfectly.
He opened the storage room door; he was looking for a vase to put the new batch of sunflowers in. Ivan had instructed him to only look in the main storage area, but he just couldn’t find the right vase, so he strayed into the older rooms.
Alfred glowed; Ivan would be so happy!
Rummaging through the old boxes, the former American wiped away the dust as he continued to search. A metallic tinkle caught his attention. Squinting and fumbling through the crate, he discovered it was a pair of old dog tags. He wiped away the caked on grime and rust with his thumb, scraping when needed with his nail, though he couldn’t get all of it off. Finally, he was able to make out a few words.
Smith
Private First Class
Blood Type O
Click.
Alfred collapsed to his knees as everything came rushing back.
/End. (Pages-30, Words-11,647)
Crap, this totally needs a sequel now (And the ending was six pages long; LOL, whut?). XD I didn’t intend for it to sound so…cliffhangery, but, yeah. *angsts over sequel neediness* I don’t even know how it would continue. ^^;
Anyway, I want to thank all of you guys for your amazing comments over the course of this story! As a first time poster, and a fledging, hopeful writer, they really meant a lot. <3 And now I have a collection of internets, broken heart pieces, an abused caps lock and…a soul? I should probably give that back. ^^;
A special thanks to the OP for an awesome prompt. ;D
A-Anon hopes the ending was satisfying and the story enjoyable; please leave comments if you thought so!
If you have a question about the story post it here and I will be more than happy to answer; if we run out of comment space you could always e-mail me at aslywriter@yahoo.com if you still have questions or want to discuss the story. I still remain anonymous (the account contains no identifying material), as the rules request, so I thought it was appropriate.
~A-Anon
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A-Anon! Why ;_; You have completely and utterly broken my heart and--guh.
I loved reading it. But at the same time... T_T
For a first time poster and a fledging writer, you did extraordinarily well. And, well, this anon would fucking love a sequel. You left it at the perfect spot for a sequel and this...it's just so sad. Please...it's just so heart breaking as is T___T
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I have a question...why was it that dog tag that brought the memories back? Who's Smith? Did I miss something? :-/
Still would love a sequel *nag nag* ♥
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OMG THIS! HERE! AHHHHHH! OH God this needs a sequel. This needs a sequel like burning!!!
F5's forever!
Recaptcha: Absolute Meteque? Strangely appropriate.
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