Red Ascent: Sequel to Red Fall 6/?
anonymous
July 4 2009, 03:05:07 UTC
“General Alfred, sir,” the man said, giving him a crisp, firm salute, “Your presence is requested by Master General Braginski. Please follow me, sir.”
“A-ah, very well,” the American managed with as much composure as he could muster. The warrior nodded and turned, and the straw-haired man began to follow.
As they walked, he looked at the soldier’s uniform; it was clean and dark, the black jacket and trousers accented with crimson and pearly white. He looked to be an officer, the uniform pristine and its aura dominating and deadly.
Involuntarily fingering his own uniform, he discovered that there were several medals pinned to his breast and a few sets of stripes above them.
His mouth went dry as he wondered what he had done to receive such honors.
Reaching a set of double doors, the man opened them, allowing Alfred to enter before himself. Closing them with a click, the soldier snapped his heels together as he faced the desk in the center of the room.
“I have brought General Alfred as you requested, Master General Braginski, sir.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Smith; dismissed.”
Smith? His Smith? No, no: the hair-it was too dark, too dark and the eyes were too hard and this was a man, not a child-
Alfred felt his heart rate increase and his breathing just barely quickened; since when had he been so panicky? He needed to calm down.
He barely noticed as the soldier left; the American was only focused on the desk in the center, the chair turned towards the balcony.
“Where have you been, my rebel? It has been almost three hours since we spoke.”
Ice raced through Alfred’s veins at the sound of Ivan’s voice, his heart nearly stopping in his chest. Was it the tone? The words he used? He didn’t understand; why was he so-
Afraid?
“It was merely a vase, da? The sunflowers have begun to wilt, my patriot. They thirst,” the Russian said, standing from his chair, emphasizing his words with a hiss. The cobalt-eyed man could feel his fingers shaking and clenched his hands to stop it, looking down at the floor.
Footsteps, heavy and slow, came closer to him, the boots hitting sharply on the wood below.
“Why do you not answer me, little one?” the voice said once it was directly in front of him. Fingers effortlessly titled Alfred’s chin upwards, and violet eyes met blue, “You are so pale,” Ivan noted, politely interested, softly adding, “there is poison in your blood again, da?”
And the American could almost feel it; fire burning through the ice, eating him alive. His head throbbed with pressure and he felt weak and small next to the elder country’s large form. His mouth was filled with sand and his ears rang with the screams of the dying.
“I-I feel-sick,” Alfred managed, mumbling; he felt his knees give out as he fell into Ivan’s waiting embrace, his mind favoring the darkness over consciousness.
Ivan gave a hard look at his collapsed partner’s form, his mouth drawn into a thin line. Suddenly, a grin wormed across his face.
Yes; constant care and surveillance.
A-Anon hopes that everyone enjoyed this part (though she wasn’t as happy with it as she wanted it to be). :3 Anyway, as I’m sure you all know, tomorrow is the 4th, and due to family related things, I might not be able to update. However, I will try my best, and if not tomorrow, then definitely Sunday. Remember, comments are always welcome, and thank you for the lovely ones that I’ve already gotten! <3
Re: Red Ascent: Sequel to Red Fall 6/?
anonymous
July 4 2009, 03:18:27 UTC
info!anon doesn't blame you for not updating on the 4th. Alfred probably wouldn't be very happy with you for writing more of this story on his day of awesomeness :P
That being said, I enjoyed this part. It's interesting that Alfred regained one set of memories only to lose the other, kind of important for survival ones. I'm interested in seeing if Ivan notices a change...and how Alfred will deal with the constant "care and surveillance."
I know it's easy to tell who I am, but I can't believe I de-anoned the first time I posted this comment. I haven't done that in ages D:
lol recaptcha: madman tion
And I nearly unanoned myself again. Why can I not click the stupid button
Re: Red Ascent: Sequel to Red Fall 6/?
anonymous
July 4 2009, 07:37:35 UTC
OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG a sequel!!! Oh god, and I thought Alfred would be able to escape or at least pretend he did not regain his memories... I like how when he gained his past memories he started to forget his recent ones. Very nice, writer!anon, these plot twists are wonderful. So just when Alfred was starting to remember... Ivan caught him already lol He was right, Ivan WOULD torture those thoughts out (and why am I so looking forward to that?)
Is it just me, or is Ivan falling for bashful!Alfred (in a twisted and sick way)?
By the way, I adore Ivan's nicknames for Alfred. "My little rebel" "Little one"... so cute....
Re: Red Ascent: Sequel to Red Fall 6/?
anonymous
July 4 2009, 08:07:55 UTC
Well it's already passed midnight so ... HAPPY JULY 4th! 8D
Oh Alfred, he must feel pretty disoriented. He like did a system restore himself with those dog tags didn't he? I wonder if Ivan will find them in his pocket!? So .. so many questions running through my mind!
oh this is OP btw, will be waiting patiently for the next part! Hope A-Anon and everyone else has a nice July 4th!
-speechless not-op anon is speechless-
anonymous
July 5 2009, 03:59:53 UTC
So I was going through the meme, just kinda looking at stuff, and Feliciano's line at the beginning of Red Ascent caught my eye, so I decided to go back and read Red Fall, so I could come and read this, and anon, I swear to you, I have NEVER made a better decision in my LIFE.
Red Fall sucked me in, and I read all 25 parts at once, then came and read this, and OH MY GOD ANON I JUST DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO EXPRESS THE MAGNIFICENCE OF THIS FILL. I would have been perfectly satisfied with just Red Fall, but there's a SEQUEL and oh Alfred and the dog tags and I never expected Smith to come back like that, and I will NEVER be able to look at the idea of a Russian-American alliance any differently than this.
American!anon, who is reading this on July 4th, can't remember being so pleased over anything on the entire kink meme.
Red Ascent: Sequel to Red Fall 7/?
anonymous
July 6 2009, 01:22:48 UTC
Hello~ :3 Please remember to read the notes at the end and pardon any errors. Enjoy! :)
He was trapped; encased between the two glass panes of awareness and dreams, just awake enough to perceive, but not act. He could feel the heaviness of the quilt over his frame, the softness of a down mattress, and the absence of Texas from his face.
Garbled voices floated across his mind, swirling and dissipating into the nothingness. Despite his heavy eyes, something told him to listen, to focus in on the murmurings.
“What is his condition, dear Eduard?”
Alfred felt his ears prick; wasn’t that Toris’s brother? Estonia, right? Maybe he could help…
A sigh, the shiftings of metallic instruments and a sharp click of a latch.
“He’s exhausted, both physically and mentally. If you remember, this has happened several times previously, both when he planned the advance on Europe and also the Japan assault. He’s run down and ill; I’m honestly not surprised he collapsed. Is there anything that could be causing him extreme mental stress?”
“He just finished plans for the final invasion of Australia yesterday, but he did not seem sick to me,” the Russian said, his voice light and sweet.
“Ivan,” the Baltic said quietly, his tone frustrated, “you are pushing him to hard; if you stress him any more he’ll be permanently broken, and not in the way you want,” he added quickly, Eduard’s tone disgusted.
“You are forgetting your place again, small Estonia; If you were not such a good doctor, I would have killed you long ago; though, I am sure that there are others proficient in the medical profession, da?”
A beat of silence.
“Of course, Ivan, sir,” the country said almost inaudibly, “I live only to serve the People’s Republic. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Is there nothing you can give him?” the elder said, his voice still deceptively sugary.
“You mean medicine? Well, the best therapy would be rest for several days-”
“A remedy, dear Eduard,” Ivan repeated, the act slipping slightly.
“I see,” the younger replied, his tone flat and muted. There were sounds of items being rummaged through and the clatter of pills.
“Here,” words that were hushed and resigned, “these will-‘help.’” Clicks against plastic were heard as the container changed hands.
“Hm,” the Russian hummed thoughtfully, and after a moment, “You are dismissed.”
Wait-he was leaving? Don’t-not alone with him! Anyone but him!
Alfred pounded on the glass, the vibrations reverberating across the sheet, trying to move, to speak, to do something!
He felt the blankets slip from their place as his body shifted; the slightest whimper escaped his lips as he moved, awareness beginning to triumph over sleep.
“Oh? Is he awake? It would be better if I could talk to him about-”
“You are dismissed, Surgeon Eduard; leave,” the Russian said none too kindly, his tone daring defiance.
Not a word more was spoken as Alfred heard the door shut with a click. A few quick steps and the bed dipped from a new addition, Fingers trailed along his face, ghosting over his cheeks and lingering momentarily on his lips, running the length of the pink flesh.
“Мальчик мой, you are awake, da?”
Eyelids quivered, the lashes brushing still alabaster cheeks; azure pools finally met the subdued light of the room, night continuing to claim the sky outside.
“I-van?” the American queried, his voice muffled from sleep, “What-happened? Was there-was there someone else here? It sounded like…Estonia?”
Eyes darkened briefly before being replaced with a strange sadness, one that seemed both real and false.
“Oh, my little patriot, what do you say? Estonia died long ago; do you not remember?”
“He-he d-died?” Alfred said breathlessly, barely believing what he had heard. Estonia had been in this room and Ivan certainly hadn’t been talking to a ghost. Not that sort of thing existed anyway.
Red Ascent: Sequel to Red Fall 8/?
anonymous
July 6 2009, 01:28:45 UTC
The comment had wakened the straw-blonde instantly, reminding him of what he had learned and the dog tags that still weighed heavily in his pocket. He could play this game just as well as the Russian could, and he would be damned if he was going to lose. But first…
He needed to get the information he had lost.
“B-but I-I mean he-”
Ivan rested his hand on Alfred’s hand, gently ruffling the hair. The expression was mournful, but there was something else. Something shadowy and vile.
“He is dead, my doll; you should remember this, for you were the one who killed him.”
What?
What?
“N-no, I-I-” the American almost found himself believing the elder country, shocked at the violet-eyed man’s ability to weave beautiful, crafty lies. Tears pulsed behind his eyes; while he wished he could say it was part of the act, it wasn’t.
What had he been told and accepted these past years? The ideas made him shudder compulsively.
“It is alright, little rebel,” Ivan cooed, kissing the corners of Alfred’s eyes, “He tried to oppose us; it was a deserved death.” A stray tear leaked from the lower lid and the taller country captured it with his lips, the tongue flicking deftly across the skin.
Cheeks flared with heat, prickling along the defining bones.
“Ah ah; do not get excited, my little one,” the Russian said lowly, softly, “we will wait until you are better, da?’
Alfred felt disgusted with himself as disappointment blossomed in his chest, and gave himself a vicious mental cursing.
“Now, would you like something to drink?”
Alfred nodded, realizing that he was, in fact, very thirsty. Ivan smiled and stood, moving to a small wet bar on the other side of the room, or, at least, that’s what the American assumed; it was hard to see without his glasses.
“The doctor said that you are exhausted; you must not over-exert yourself when you plan now, da?”
Taking a mental deep breath, Alfred hoped his act was as perfect as he thought it was.
“I-I’m sorry, Ivan; it’s just-it’s really important,” the American said softly, trying to force regret into his tone. There was the clinking of glassware, though Alfred told himself he imagined the clack of plastic. After turning off the stream of water, the platinum blonde returned to his side, offering him the cool cup.
The glass felt heavy in his hands, condensation already trickling down his fingers. He drained three-fourths of the glass in one swig, grateful for the icy liquid against his raw and scratchy throat. He managed a small smile for his captor, praying that it reached his eyes.
“Ah, that is better, da? Please just be careful in the future, Мальчик мой; I do not want you to be ill, for it worries me so.”
Alfred nodded, and suddenly the shattering of glass was heard. That was strange; when had he let go of that? The Russian tutted, bending slightly to gather the jagged shards.
“You need to be more careful, my patriot; I would not want you to cut yourself.”
Alfred bobbed his head slowly; his skin tingled with warmth and he felt so relaxed. His mind swam with heat and fuzzy waves clouded his thoughts. Alarms sounded in the back of his brain, though even that sound was muted and garbled.
Red Ascent: Sequel to Red Fall 9/?
anonymous
July 6 2009, 01:45:34 UTC
“I-Ivan,” the American mumbled, his lips loose and the words jumbled and slurred. The Russian grinned at him, though darkness seemed to gather behind his visage.
This was bad.
“Where did you really go when you went to find the vase?” the elder country questioned, his tone saccharine. Alfred furiously attempted to focus, his thoughts forming and dying before he could grasp them.
“Vaaasssee-? I went to find I-Ivan a va-se,” the American found himself saying, the words pouring haphazardly from his mouth.
Oh, fuck.
It was a sedative; something intended to inhibit his thought in hopes of revealing secrets, something obtained from the days of the KGB, no doubt. Alfred’s own people had used something similar briefly, but he remembered a flaw; the recipient could still lie, as his people found out, they were just more likely to let something slip when subdued mentally. Okay, he could play this game.
“You are lying to me, little rebel, and I do not like liars. Where did you go?”
“N-n-no; no-no liar. Vassee-vase for flowers,” Alfred managed, his mouth feeling unresponsive and slow, though the dog tags had avoided mention, yet. Ivan seemed to consider this before continuing.
“Where is the Resistance? Who is leading it?”
Alfred truly didn’t know about this. There was a resistance?
“Re-sis-tannncee? No, I-don’t-don’t know.” Something bit into his skin, and the American realized the violet-eyed man was tracing lines with broken glass, edging the flesh with shapes.
“Are you being a good boy? Telling the truth? Bad children are punished by Mother,” Ivan said, bringing back the name he hadn’t used in many years.
“Yeessss-never do anything, nothing against Mother; Alfred loves Mother,” the American said in indistinct, runny words, feeling tears streak down his cheeks.
He hated to say that.
But something about it felt so right.
Ivan stopped, setting the glass on the table; taking Alfred’s arm, he licked the scarlet pearls trailing down the skin, sucking gently on the soft tissue. A throaty moan rumbled from the American’s lips and he shivered, feeling even hotter than before.
“Mother knows; but he always has to make sure, da?” the Russian said, standing as he tucked the American farther under the blankets, “Now sleep; you need your rest, my little warrior.”
Though he fell asleep almost instantly, Alfred was treated to the demented smirk of his partner as his final sight, his coherency slipping as he gazed into those, dark, dark eyes.
A-Anon hopes that you enjoyed! <3 Also, A-Anon appreciates the absolutely amazing comments that she has gotten for her last update! Also, she wants to mention that she might not be able to update tommorrow due to her internship, but will definately do so by Tuesday. Please keep commenting and I'll see you then! <3
Re: Red Ascent: Sequel to Red Fall 9/?
anonymous
July 6 2009, 02:51:43 UTC
AUTHOR ANON I LOVE YOU. this is that third artist anon who wanted to fanart this, I'm working on a picture now, not that it's any good, but... it's the thought that counts? >_>
Red Ascent: Sequel to Red Fall 10/?
anonymous
July 8 2009, 04:49:50 UTC
Please pardon any errors and enjoy! :)
The sun had long since traded with the moon when Alfred woke; his head throbbed with a pain, a side-effect of Ivan’s ‘gift,’ assuredly. Groaning, the American fumbled for his glasses, swiping his hand indiscriminately across the night stand. Finding the frames, he slipped them onto his nose, briefly pinching the bridge to try to deaden the pressure. Dazedly, he realized a note was also resting on the table, addressed to him in a slanted, curvy hand.
My dear little patriot,
While I wished I could be here when you woke, urgent business demanded my attention this morning. Take this time to rest and regain your strength, my doll; I will be back by nightfall.
Ivan
Stifling the urge to rip the message to shreds, Alfred re-read it, having been too sleepy to fully grasp the meaning.
He was alone.
Tossing back the covers, the blonde stumbled to his feet, swaying momentarily before staggering to what he assumed to be the bathroom. Resting he hands on the smooth marble surface, he inhaled a shaking breath, nausea bubbling in his empty stomach. Gaining the strength to look upwards, his eyes met their reflection.
Shoulder length golden tresses grazed his shirt, the hair waving brilliantly. His eyes looked large behind the modern frames, the azure shining magnificently through the lenses. He had always been tall, but never so slim. Each bone in his face was defined and curved, visible through careful training and care. Muscles ridged his abdomen, rippling along the sculpted flesh. And he was so pale… Icy white skin seemed to glow in the mirror, pink, ample lips contrasting with alabaster.
Who was this person?
Fingers trailed down the shining surface, mouth slighty parted in shock as two halves met, tips separated only by glass. The American bit his trembling lip as his eyes met the floor.
This was Ivan’s Alfred.
And damned if he wasn’t beautiful.
Unable to bear the sight any longer, he left the room, searching for clothes; if he was going to find information, he would need to talk to the people, the real people.
Finding the armoire, he ripped the doors open and pushed through the hangers; he didn’t have much time. A grimace smeared across his face at the sole sight of martial dress; he knew he wouldn’t get the right response if he was dressed like that. He needed to look as inconspicuous as possible.
Not that he knew what that looked like.
His hand paused as he brushed something unfamiliar; a bag was shoved in the very back of the closet, obviously forgotten for lack of use. Pulling it out, he peeked at the contents; it would have to do.
Pulling on the heavy black pants, he stuffed the legs into a pair of old, scuffed military boots, no longer used for that reason. He jammed a thick, creamy sweater over his head, momentarily appreciating its warmth as he groped the shoelaces into a clumsy knot. He wrapped a weighty scarf around his neck, burying his chin in the coarse wool as he shrugged the battered coat over his shoulders; he secured the loose, broken buttons, abandoning those that wouldn’t fasten. Drawing the hood up around his head, he looked in the small dresser mirror; now shrouded by the fabric, it was now harder to recognize his visage, hair pulled back by the fur and the scarf hiding his mouth.
Turning now to the bed, Alfred positioned a few pillows under the sheets and quilt to resemble a body, though pulled the covers high. Drawing the bed draperies halfway, the scene was fairly realistic; it was only meant as a precaution if others came to check on him.
Thinking quickly, Alfred also grabbed several medals off of his suit and his nametag; if the guards caught him, he didn’t want to be totally defenseless, even though Ivan would be furious at him. Stuffing them into his pocket, his hands brushed a familiar object. Smiling, he removed the chain and draped it around his neck, letting his chest warm the cool metal tags.
“A-ah, very well,” the American managed with as much composure as he could muster. The warrior nodded and turned, and the straw-haired man began to follow.
As they walked, he looked at the soldier’s uniform; it was clean and dark, the black jacket and trousers accented with crimson and pearly white. He looked to be an officer, the uniform pristine and its aura dominating and deadly.
Involuntarily fingering his own uniform, he discovered that there were several medals pinned to his breast and a few sets of stripes above them.
His mouth went dry as he wondered what he had done to receive such honors.
Reaching a set of double doors, the man opened them, allowing Alfred to enter before himself. Closing them with a click, the soldier snapped his heels together as he faced the desk in the center of the room.
“I have brought General Alfred as you requested, Master General Braginski, sir.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Smith; dismissed.”
Smith? His Smith? No, no: the hair-it was too dark, too dark and the eyes were too hard and this was a man, not a child-
Alfred felt his heart rate increase and his breathing just barely quickened; since when had he been so panicky? He needed to calm down.
He barely noticed as the soldier left; the American was only focused on the desk in the center, the chair turned towards the balcony.
“Where have you been, my rebel? It has been almost three hours since we spoke.”
Ice raced through Alfred’s veins at the sound of Ivan’s voice, his heart nearly stopping in his chest. Was it the tone? The words he used? He didn’t understand; why was he so-
Afraid?
“It was merely a vase, da? The sunflowers have begun to wilt, my patriot. They thirst,” the Russian said, standing from his chair, emphasizing his words with a hiss. The cobalt-eyed man could feel his fingers shaking and clenched his hands to stop it, looking down at the floor.
Footsteps, heavy and slow, came closer to him, the boots hitting sharply on the wood below.
“Why do you not answer me, little one?” the voice said once it was directly in front of him. Fingers effortlessly titled Alfred’s chin upwards, and violet eyes met blue, “You are so pale,” Ivan noted, politely interested, softly adding, “there is poison in your blood again, da?”
And the American could almost feel it; fire burning through the ice, eating him alive. His head throbbed with pressure and he felt weak and small next to the elder country’s large form. His mouth was filled with sand and his ears rang with the screams of the dying.
“I-I feel-sick,” Alfred managed, mumbling; he felt his knees give out as he fell into Ivan’s waiting embrace, his mind favoring the darkness over consciousness.
Ivan gave a hard look at his collapsed partner’s form, his mouth drawn into a thin line. Suddenly, a grin wormed across his face.
Yes; constant care and surveillance.
A-Anon hopes that everyone enjoyed this part (though she wasn’t as happy with it as she wanted it to be). :3 Anyway, as I’m sure you all know, tomorrow is the 4th, and due to family related things, I might not be able to update. However, I will try my best, and if not tomorrow, then definitely Sunday. Remember, comments are always welcome, and thank you for the lovely ones that I’ve already gotten! <3
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That being said, I enjoyed this part. It's interesting that Alfred regained one set of memories only to lose the other, kind of important for survival ones. I'm interested in seeing if Ivan notices a change...and how Alfred will deal with the constant "care and surveillance."
I know it's easy to tell who I am, but I can't believe I de-anoned the first time I posted this comment. I haven't done that in ages D:
lol recaptcha: madman tion
And I nearly unanoned myself again. Why can I not click the stupid button
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This is beautiful! I can't wait to see more, even if I have to wait for Sunday. Also have fun on the 4th, don't rush on our account ^_^
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Oh god, and I thought Alfred would be able to escape or at least pretend he did not regain his memories... I like how when he gained his past memories he started to forget his recent ones. Very nice, writer!anon, these plot twists are wonderful.
So just when Alfred was starting to remember... Ivan caught him already lol He was right, Ivan WOULD torture those thoughts out (and why am I so looking forward to that?)
Is it just me, or is Ivan falling for bashful!Alfred (in a twisted and sick way)?
By the way, I adore Ivan's nicknames for Alfred. "My little rebel" "Little one"... so cute....
recaptcha: for endorses; recaptcha approves too.
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Oh Alfred, he must feel pretty disoriented. He like did a system restore himself with those dog tags didn't he? I wonder if Ivan will find them in his pocket!? So .. so many questions running through my mind!
oh this is OP btw, will be waiting patiently for the next part! Hope A-Anon and everyone else has a nice July 4th!
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Red Fall sucked me in, and I read all 25 parts at once, then came and read this, and OH MY GOD ANON I JUST DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO EXPRESS THE MAGNIFICENCE OF THIS FILL. I would have been perfectly satisfied with just Red Fall, but there's a SEQUEL and oh Alfred and the dog tags and I never expected Smith to come back like that, and I will NEVER be able to look at the idea of a Russian-American alliance any differently than this.
American!anon, who is reading this on July 4th, can't remember being so pleased over anything on the entire kink meme.
Thank you.
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WAIT NO NEVER MIND THAT WOULD SUCK. Though it's very plausible considering...
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He was trapped; encased between the two glass panes of awareness and dreams, just awake enough to perceive, but not act. He could feel the heaviness of the quilt over his frame, the softness of a down mattress, and the absence of Texas from his face.
Garbled voices floated across his mind, swirling and dissipating into the nothingness. Despite his heavy eyes, something told him to listen, to focus in on the murmurings.
“What is his condition, dear Eduard?”
Alfred felt his ears prick; wasn’t that Toris’s brother? Estonia, right? Maybe he could help…
A sigh, the shiftings of metallic instruments and a sharp click of a latch.
“He’s exhausted, both physically and mentally. If you remember, this has happened several times previously, both when he planned the advance on Europe and also the Japan assault. He’s run down and ill; I’m honestly not surprised he collapsed. Is there anything that could be causing him extreme mental stress?”
“He just finished plans for the final invasion of Australia yesterday, but he did not seem sick to me,” the Russian said, his voice light and sweet.
“Ivan,” the Baltic said quietly, his tone frustrated, “you are pushing him to hard; if you stress him any more he’ll be permanently broken, and not in the way you want,” he added quickly, Eduard’s tone disgusted.
“You are forgetting your place again, small Estonia; If you were not such a good doctor, I would have killed you long ago; though, I am sure that there are others proficient in the medical profession, da?”
A beat of silence.
“Of course, Ivan, sir,” the country said almost inaudibly, “I live only to serve the People’s Republic. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Is there nothing you can give him?” the elder said, his voice still deceptively sugary.
“You mean medicine? Well, the best therapy would be rest for several days-”
“A remedy, dear Eduard,” Ivan repeated, the act slipping slightly.
“I see,” the younger replied, his tone flat and muted. There were sounds of items being rummaged through and the clatter of pills.
“Here,” words that were hushed and resigned, “these will-‘help.’” Clicks against plastic were heard as the container changed hands.
“Hm,” the Russian hummed thoughtfully, and after a moment, “You are dismissed.”
Wait-he was leaving? Don’t-not alone with him! Anyone but him!
Alfred pounded on the glass, the vibrations reverberating across the sheet, trying to move, to speak, to do something!
He felt the blankets slip from their place as his body shifted; the slightest whimper escaped his lips as he moved, awareness beginning to triumph over sleep.
“Oh? Is he awake? It would be better if I could talk to him about-”
“You are dismissed, Surgeon Eduard; leave,” the Russian said none too kindly, his tone daring defiance.
Not a word more was spoken as Alfred heard the door shut with a click. A few quick steps and the bed dipped from a new addition, Fingers trailed along his face, ghosting over his cheeks and lingering momentarily on his lips, running the length of the pink flesh.
“Мальчик мой, you are awake, da?”
Eyelids quivered, the lashes brushing still alabaster cheeks; azure pools finally met the subdued light of the room, night continuing to claim the sky outside.
“I-van?” the American queried, his voice muffled from sleep, “What-happened? Was there-was there someone else here? It sounded like…Estonia?”
Eyes darkened briefly before being replaced with a strange sadness, one that seemed both real and false.
“Oh, my little patriot, what do you say? Estonia died long ago; do you not remember?”
“He-he d-died?” Alfred said breathlessly, barely believing what he had heard. Estonia had been in this room and Ivan certainly hadn’t been talking to a ghost. Not that sort of thing existed anyway.
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He needed to get the information he had lost.
“B-but I-I mean he-”
Ivan rested his hand on Alfred’s hand, gently ruffling the hair. The expression was mournful, but there was something else. Something shadowy and vile.
“He is dead, my doll; you should remember this, for you were the one who killed him.”
What?
What?
“N-no, I-I-” the American almost found himself believing the elder country, shocked at the violet-eyed man’s ability to weave beautiful, crafty lies. Tears pulsed behind his eyes; while he wished he could say it was part of the act, it wasn’t.
What had he been told and accepted these past years? The ideas made him shudder compulsively.
“It is alright, little rebel,” Ivan cooed, kissing the corners of Alfred’s eyes, “He tried to oppose us; it was a deserved death.” A stray tear leaked from the lower lid and the taller country captured it with his lips, the tongue flicking deftly across the skin.
Cheeks flared with heat, prickling along the defining bones.
“Ah ah; do not get excited, my little one,” the Russian said lowly, softly, “we will wait until you are better, da?’
Alfred felt disgusted with himself as disappointment blossomed in his chest, and gave himself a vicious mental cursing.
“Now, would you like something to drink?”
Alfred nodded, realizing that he was, in fact, very thirsty. Ivan smiled and stood, moving to a small wet bar on the other side of the room, or, at least, that’s what the American assumed; it was hard to see without his glasses.
“The doctor said that you are exhausted; you must not over-exert yourself when you plan now, da?”
Taking a mental deep breath, Alfred hoped his act was as perfect as he thought it was.
“I-I’m sorry, Ivan; it’s just-it’s really important,” the American said softly, trying to force regret into his tone. There was the clinking of glassware, though Alfred told himself he imagined the clack of plastic. After turning off the stream of water, the platinum blonde returned to his side, offering him the cool cup.
The glass felt heavy in his hands, condensation already trickling down his fingers. He drained three-fourths of the glass in one swig, grateful for the icy liquid against his raw and scratchy throat. He managed a small smile for his captor, praying that it reached his eyes.
“Ah, that is better, da? Please just be careful in the future, Мальчик мой; I do not want you to be ill, for it worries me so.”
Alfred nodded, and suddenly the shattering of glass was heard. That was strange; when had he let go of that? The Russian tutted, bending slightly to gather the jagged shards.
“You need to be more careful, my patriot; I would not want you to cut yourself.”
Alfred bobbed his head slowly; his skin tingled with warmth and he felt so relaxed. His mind swam with heat and fuzzy waves clouded his thoughts. Alarms sounded in the back of his brain, though even that sound was muted and garbled.
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This was bad.
“Where did you really go when you went to find the vase?” the elder country questioned, his tone saccharine. Alfred furiously attempted to focus, his thoughts forming and dying before he could grasp them.
“Vaaasssee-? I went to find I-Ivan a va-se,” the American found himself saying, the words pouring haphazardly from his mouth.
Oh, fuck.
It was a sedative; something intended to inhibit his thought in hopes of revealing secrets, something obtained from the days of the KGB, no doubt. Alfred’s own people had used something similar briefly, but he remembered a flaw; the recipient could still lie, as his people found out, they were just more likely to let something slip when subdued mentally. Okay, he could play this game.
“You are lying to me, little rebel, and I do not like liars. Where did you go?”
“N-n-no; no-no liar. Vassee-vase for flowers,” Alfred managed, his mouth feeling unresponsive and slow, though the dog tags had avoided mention, yet. Ivan seemed to consider this before continuing.
“Where is the Resistance? Who is leading it?”
Alfred truly didn’t know about this. There was a resistance?
“Re-sis-tannncee? No, I-don’t-don’t know.” Something bit into his skin, and the American realized the violet-eyed man was tracing lines with broken glass, edging the flesh with shapes.
“Are you being a good boy? Telling the truth? Bad children are punished by Mother,” Ivan said, bringing back the name he hadn’t used in many years.
“Yeessss-never do anything, nothing against Mother; Alfred loves Mother,” the American said in indistinct, runny words, feeling tears streak down his cheeks.
He hated to say that.
But something about it felt so right.
Ivan stopped, setting the glass on the table; taking Alfred’s arm, he licked the scarlet pearls trailing down the skin, sucking gently on the soft tissue. A throaty moan rumbled from the American’s lips and he shivered, feeling even hotter than before.
“Mother knows; but he always has to make sure, da?” the Russian said, standing as he tucked the American farther under the blankets, “Now sleep; you need your rest, my little warrior.”
Though he fell asleep almost instantly, Alfred was treated to the demented smirk of his partner as his final sight, his coherency slipping as he gazed into those, dark, dark eyes.
A-Anon hopes that you enjoyed! <3 Also, A-Anon appreciates the absolutely amazing comments that she has gotten for her last update! Also, she wants to mention that she might not be able to update tommorrow due to her internship, but will definately do so by Tuesday. Please keep commenting and I'll see you then! <3
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Take your time writing, A-Anon. Real life is definitely more important than a silly fandom :)
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this is that third artist anon who wanted to fanart this, I'm working on a picture now, not that it's any good, but... it's the thought that counts? >_>
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*now follows this meme happily <3*
\o/ yay for Alfred getting through the sedative okay. I'm so happy that there is a resistance~
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The sun had long since traded with the moon when Alfred woke; his head throbbed with a pain, a side-effect of Ivan’s ‘gift,’ assuredly. Groaning, the American fumbled for his glasses, swiping his hand indiscriminately across the night stand. Finding the frames, he slipped them onto his nose, briefly pinching the bridge to try to deaden the pressure. Dazedly, he realized a note was also resting on the table, addressed to him in a slanted, curvy hand.
My dear little patriot,
While I wished I could be here when you woke, urgent business demanded my attention this morning. Take this time to rest and regain your strength, my doll; I will be back by nightfall.
Ivan
Stifling the urge to rip the message to shreds, Alfred re-read it, having been too sleepy to fully grasp the meaning.
He was alone.
Tossing back the covers, the blonde stumbled to his feet, swaying momentarily before staggering to what he assumed to be the bathroom. Resting he hands on the smooth marble surface, he inhaled a shaking breath, nausea bubbling in his empty stomach. Gaining the strength to look upwards, his eyes met their reflection.
Shoulder length golden tresses grazed his shirt, the hair waving brilliantly. His eyes looked large behind the modern frames, the azure shining magnificently through the lenses. He had always been tall, but never so slim. Each bone in his face was defined and curved, visible through careful training and care. Muscles ridged his abdomen, rippling along the sculpted flesh. And he was so pale… Icy white skin seemed to glow in the mirror, pink, ample lips contrasting with alabaster.
Who was this person?
Fingers trailed down the shining surface, mouth slighty parted in shock as two halves met, tips separated only by glass. The American bit his trembling lip as his eyes met the floor.
This was Ivan’s Alfred.
And damned if he wasn’t beautiful.
Unable to bear the sight any longer, he left the room, searching for clothes; if he was going to find information, he would need to talk to the people, the real people.
Finding the armoire, he ripped the doors open and pushed through the hangers; he didn’t have much time. A grimace smeared across his face at the sole sight of martial dress; he knew he wouldn’t get the right response if he was dressed like that. He needed to look as inconspicuous as possible.
Not that he knew what that looked like.
His hand paused as he brushed something unfamiliar; a bag was shoved in the very back of the closet, obviously forgotten for lack of use. Pulling it out, he peeked at the contents; it would have to do.
Pulling on the heavy black pants, he stuffed the legs into a pair of old, scuffed military boots, no longer used for that reason. He jammed a thick, creamy sweater over his head, momentarily appreciating its warmth as he groped the shoelaces into a clumsy knot. He wrapped a weighty scarf around his neck, burying his chin in the coarse wool as he shrugged the battered coat over his shoulders; he secured the loose, broken buttons, abandoning those that wouldn’t fasten. Drawing the hood up around his head, he looked in the small dresser mirror; now shrouded by the fabric, it was now harder to recognize his visage, hair pulled back by the fur and the scarf hiding his mouth.
Turning now to the bed, Alfred positioned a few pillows under the sheets and quilt to resemble a body, though pulled the covers high. Drawing the bed draperies halfway, the scene was fairly realistic; it was only meant as a precaution if others came to check on him.
Thinking quickly, Alfred also grabbed several medals off of his suit and his nametag; if the guards caught him, he didn’t want to be totally defenseless, even though Ivan would be furious at him. Stuffing them into his pocket, his hands brushed a familiar object. Smiling, he removed the chain and draped it around his neck, letting his chest warm the cool metal tags.
He was ready.
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