Fic: Beloved (or, if Nobody Wins, Who Writes History?) [Belarus, Lithuania] R [3/3]
Title:Beloved (or, if Nobody Wins, Who Writes History?)
Author: hyperemmalawlz
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Chapter: 3/3
Characters/Pairing: Lithuania/Belarus (not consensually), Belarus/Russia (the same), Ensemble
Word Count: 6530
Rating: R
Summary: It might be forgotten, but Belarus does have a reason to hate Lithuania.
Warnings: swearing, kidnapping and false imprisonment, violence, stalking and sexual harassment, dub/non-con.
Author's Notes: Written for , the prompt: "Lithuania, when the Kievan Rus broke apart and Belarus went to stay with him, was actually quite cruel. I want to see this aspect of their relationship. " The conclusion, which took forever to write because I FAIL LIFE. Sorry orz.
“There you are; could you please tell me what the hell is going on-” She doesn't even get to finish her sentence before Toris drags her up, by the hair, slamming her against the wall.
She's confused. She woke up this morning in one of the dungeon cells, where she has never been held, even when she was first captured, or after her many escape attempts. She was in a new section of the house with Katyusha, in preparation for the impending transfer; what happened.
“...Ow. Okay, seriously, what's going on? Where's my sister? Why am I in the dungeon- agh!”
He twists her hair again, hard, and it hurts. “Your brother came for you,” he murmurs.
“...What?”
He pushes her back roughly and she flinches. “There was a war,” he says. “He wanted to get you back. He almost...”
Natalya's mind races as she tries to understand this; she hasn't seen her brother since the thirteenth century - “Ivan!” she calls out, thoughtlessly trying to break past and find him, to escape. Of course Toris stops her; he grabs her and squeezes brutally, and she cringes in pain. Her barely notices, the crazy bastard.
“Knew it,” he says. “I knew you'd go running to him, want to escape. I dragged you here for a reason.”
“Don't play victim,” she snarls. “You have held me here for the last four hundred years, pretty clearly against my will, and - and he's my brother, so don't act like this is some unexpected-”
“God, you're an idiot!” He throws her against the wall again, harder this time, and she hisses. The cell is build from stone, rather roughly. “Do you - you don't even remember your brother, do you? What do you think he'd do, if he were in my position, because believe me not all people have my restraint.”
He snarls in her face and she holds her breath. She tries to stay composed, though. “I don't know. What would he do?” There's a pause, and she makes herself smirk (even if she's locked up and just a little terrified, best to make him feel as powerless as possible). “What would you do, if you weren't so fucking moral?”
He steps back and slaps her across the face.
She only takes a moment to recoil. “See? Morality.”
He punches her this time.
“You should be grateful.”
This is insane, even for him. Most of the time, his is a slow crazy. She wonders how far she can push it. “Guess so. Why don't you give it a few more goes; y'know, teach me a lesson?”
He grabs her by the arms and throws her to the floor.
“Fuck,” she mutters. She's starting to feel the burn, the pain from where he hit her. She wonders if Katyusha will ask her questions. She wonders if that Poland man will ask him. She doubts it; he's never seemed to care much for how Toris treats her.
“I've tried to help you,” he mutters, kneeling on the floor. He's going back into that soft mode he's usually in, the one that makes everyone think he's so much better than any other power with a colony. Idiots. “Natalya... if only you could appreciate... If you'd accepted this a long time ago, things would be so much easier.”
She swallows hard, not quite daring to raise herself on the floor. “Yes, because all this oppression and captivity. Very helpful.”
He shakes his head. “You have had money, you have had culture. Many worse things have happened. Believe me, if I fall and can no longer protect you - Russia will get you. And then you will understand me so much better.”
He pushes himself back up, and she sits again when his back is turned. There are things she wants to yell, something like don't pretend your reasons have ever been anything but selfish and obsessive! But she has a question to ask. “Where is Katyusha? We were meant to be together for now, in preparation for the new duchy, remember?”
“She's with Poland. Russia came for her too, but Poland's okay with things,” he says. “That duchy won't be going ahead now. If I'm this close to losing you, I shouldn't push it further.”
An overwhelming wave of anger and illness suddenly crushes through her. This was - the one decent thing he ever did, to give her some kind of freedom, and now... “But that's not fair!” she cries like a child. “I didn't do anything wrong!”
“But you would have if you'd known. You'd have wanted Russia to take you away. Idiot.”
His smile is affectionate again, and she has to avert her eyes. That's not wrong, she tells herself, but nothing will come of telling him that. “...I thought you wanted me to be happy,” she says, looking back at him cautiously.
He looks at her blankly. “I want you to be happy with me. You'll understand one day.”
He walks out the door, locking it behind himself. She collapses on the floor, too tired to keep fighting when he's not even here. Suddenly the emotions start to sink in, because Ivan-
Oh god, Brother was here and he could have saved her, and Katyusha too no doubt, she was so close to getting out of here and she didn't even know until it was too late. It's too late.
Tears start prickling and she closes her eyes. Don't be pathetic. It happened and it's a disappointment and she must move on, live in this, like she has done for the last four fucking hundred years.
But for now, she lies in a dark, cold stone cell without even a bed, and pretends its not too late and her brother will come rescue her soon.
*
She hears a hissing from the bathroom off in the left wing, far too close to her brother's house, and morbidly curious ventures in.
What she finds is none too unexpected. Lithuania, shirtless and covered in fresh wounds upon the back, which have torn open semi-healed scars too. He is clumsily trying to apply some lotion, tears welling in his eyes from the pain. Weak.
“Belarus,” he says, catching her by surprise. He smiles stupidly. “What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
“I heard a hissing in here. If an animal died, the smell would be around for weeks.”
“Ah.”
“What happened?”
“Russia. As always.”
She nods. Her face remains blank.
“You're not surprised?”
“No.” She understands perfectly well why her beloved Brother would want to make this bastard suffer. “I've seen things before. I've had to get the blood out of your clothes. What do I have to be surprised about?”
He looks back at the mirror. “But he's never done anything like this to you, right?”
“No. Why would he?”
The blood seeps down his back, making its own pretty little trails. “I don't know. Why do you think he does it to me?”
She can't hold it back. “You deserve it.”
She can see his cringing in the mirror. She could almost say the blood starts to run faster at her words, although she's not sure that's actually possible. Pathetic. She refuses to feel guilty for causing him more suffering - this is Lithuania, and what she says is truth. He deserves everything Russia does to him, everything she could do to him, and more besides.
“Oh,” he says, struggling to keep his tone light. He sounds like he'll cry as soon as she's not here to listen. “Then I suppose I can't convince you to help me with the wounds?”
“Do you think you can trick me again?!” she asks with a furious snarl, trying to fight off the wave of nausea that comes when she imagines it, having to touch his bare skin and help him... “No. This is one thing you will simply have to deal with yourself; I don't concern myself with the plight of animals.”
She runs out of the room and into the middle hallway. She knows Russia is hiding under the floorboards there tonight, and she won't try and get him out for now, but she has to feel close to him just for a few minutes so she doesn't throw up.
*
She understands that things are going badly for him. The schadenfreude is vaguely undermined by the fact when things go badly for him, things sort of start going badly for the rest of them.
Tonight, he makes her dine with him, sitting across a table with candles and fine food. Like he is genuinely trying to romance her, or like this is some kind of anniversary celebration. She wonders if this is what he always wanted, really; the way he would have treated her if she hadn't always been so determined to defy him and everything he asked of her.
They don't make much conversation. They don't really have anything to talk about, as for all his obsession with her over the years they don't seem to have much in common. Not for the first time, she wonders why he is so obsessed with her to begin with. He saw her once and decided she must be his forever. Was he following her before that? Did he see her with her family and decide she belonged somewhere else? She shivers and tries to block off the thoughts. They don't even matter, really.
“Do you like the meal?” Toris asks her, focusing her attention again. She hesitates.
“...It's edible.” Of course, the food is fantastic, but she refuses to show her appreciation. Not to him. It doesn't seem to work, in any case, by the way he smiles at her.
“That means good to you, correct?” It doesn't seem like he needs an answer, so she just ignores it. She eats the food (fuck, it is really good).
“...Maybe,” she says. It feels too much like giving up, but she's tired of trying to come up with excuses for everything ever.
He smiles softly at her, and she avoids his eyes. “I understand, Natalya,” he says. “I've gotten used to equating how you actually feel about things with what you say.”
She gulps. “You don't understand me at all.”
He sighs. “Natalya, just eat your dinner?”
After a pause, she concedes and does so.
“So,” she says, “I've heard you've been talking to my brother lately.”
“Natalya-”
“What? Don't I have the right to ask about that? I do live with you, and he is my brother-”
There's suddenly a smashing sound and Toris has risen to his feet. “God, you're so ungrateful!”
“Toris!”
“Haven't I done everything for you?” he shouts. “I've given you room, and food; I haven't worked you to death; I haven't made you become just like me - most women would be grateful! Grateful! But no, not you, you just try and escape and go on about your beloved brother - and I let you! I've never once punished you for the way you treat me! It's pathetic; I'm pathetic.”
Delusional, maybe. Has he forgotten it all? How he's taxed her? How he took her people for himself? How he's beaten her for daring not to love him the way he loves her, when she never even wanted to meet him to begin with? “Don't you dare pity yourself,” she says and takes another bite. She wants to stay calm.
He yanks her plate away and smashes it too. She jumps. “Don't tell me what to do.”
She narrows her eyes. “Why not? It's not like I'm naive enough to believe it'll actually work.”
He smiles. It's a soft smile, and it frightens her much more than the yelling. He's just completely unpredictable. “That's right. You think you're so powerless, don't you?” She about to reply with something about having been held captive for the last half a millennium or so, when suddenly he yanks her out of the chair by the wrist. “Really, Natalya, do you think I don't know?”
“...Know what?”
“Who I am! What I am around you.” He starts to laugh, still keeping her firmly in place. “I'm not a bad person, Natalya. I'm far better than anyone else you know. Far, far better than that brother of yours you're still so obsessed with. I mean, what happened to you when he and Sweden invaded... but it's just when I'm around you.”
She keeps her head high and her gaze steady. “What the hell are you talking about? And what do you think you're doing, dragging my brother into this?”
“You already dragged him in.” He shakes his head, and slowly strokes her face. She doesn't bother flinching; it wouldn't help. “You make me crazy, Natalya. A monster. A madman.”
He grabs her by the waist and pulls her in close, making her gasp. “It's all your fault. Don't you even feel guilty?”
She's trying to stay composed, but her breath gets shallow. “That doesn't even make sense,” she says, avoiding his eyes. “I'm no angel, but I'm not your guiding light. I'm not responsible for what you do.”
He pulls back and pushes her back onto the table. Ow, she thinks but she doesn't cry out. She quickly pushes herself back up again, just to stare at him with contempt. He runs his fingers through his hair. “You are such a bitch.”
“You know for all the insults, you've always actually seemed quite fond of me.”
He rolls his eyes. “There you go. Again with those sarcastic comments. Don't pretend you're so self-assured - you're a scared little girl, and I'm the one scaring you; we both know that.”
“Then what do you want from me? If I'm this horrible woman whose led you on and broken your heart, what exactly am I meant to do to make it all better?”
He goes still and gives her a long, slow, lingering look. “You know what,” he whispers.
She clenches her jaw. “No.”
He just keeps looking at her for awhile, until a bitter smirk spreads across his face. “Of course. You're special,” he says. “You know, anyone else would have just given in by now. Would have made it easier on themselves, if nothing else; given them some kind of control over the situation. But that's you, always with the honour and not the reason. It's actually rather annoying.”
“I'm sorry, are you asking me to manipulate you?” she asks, getting increasingly confused by this whole situation. “Or do you think I'm still naive enough to let you trick me into being whatever you want?”
He laughs. “I'm sorry, in what alternate universe are you not naive?” he asks. “Or are you not listening to yourself? Word of advice, people like you - they don't become the powers. They don't get to control their own destiny. Underhanded manipulation is pretty much the only way forward, and you're too damned self-righteous for that. And you still think that one day, your big brother's going to come in and fix it all. And he'll care. That you'll still be more than just a bit more territory to a guy who's already invaded pretty much every land he could get his hands on, just because he could,” he spreads his hands out like a magician, directing her gaze to some miracle. She looks away, ashamed. “It's not going to happen. You're stuck with me,” he says. “I mean, how long has it been so far?”
She looks up, burning with pain and rage. “Oh really? No-one cares about me?” she says, leaning back against the table slowly. “Well, that's not true. You clearly do. And you know what, you're right; I have been decidedly ungrateful. Well, okay then.”
She lifts up her skirts and spreads her legs, still avoiding his eyes. There's still lots of stuff on this table, so she brushes it off and makes loud, cluttering, destructive noise - when she looks up, he's just staring.
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
“What do you think you're doing?”
She shrugs. “Giving you what you want. If I'm stuck here anyway, why bother resisting, right?”
He seems confused. Bastard, he does not have the right to get confused by this shit. “Why?”
“Didn't I just explain that?” she says, and he's likely about to point something out, but she's not giving him the opportunity to interrupt and (what's the answer to his goddamn question?) make this into another one of those things that he does. Another way to make himself into, somehow, the normal one in this whole fucked up thing. “Come on. I doubt you've changed your mind that much. After all this nagging and self-pity you'd think you'd jump at-”
Suddenly her back's on the table and that's harder than she imagined, he's on top of her and she just freezes. She wants to scream. She wants to scream, bite, kick; do whatever it is she's been doing for the last five hundred fucking years to ward him off, and that doesn't even make any sense; she just told him to do this but god only knows she wishes she could remember why.
He pulls back, not far enough that she can see anything past him, but enough that she can't possibly pretend he is anyone else. She holds her breath. “I'd like to make it very clear: you have a choice here,” he says. “I'm not forcing you into anything.”
She gulps. “Right. You're a stand-up guy; you'd never do anything like that?”
“This was your idea.” He snaps into soft mode again (god, she gets sick of his mood swings), stroking her hair gently. She doesn't know what to do. “Are you changing your mind?”
She swallows hard. She wants to cry. She wants to do a lot of things she's been avoiding for the last five hundred years, but she doesn't because fuck it, she doesn't give in to him... all evidence to the contrary. She shakes that thought away and squirms into a more comfortable position on the table. “No. Do what you want. I'm being pragmatic.”
“Really?”
She nods. “If I'm stuck with you, this will keep you happy. If not - then I've got something clear to complain about when they come for me.”
There's a pause as he brushes her hair away, cups her face and lifts it off the table. And he smiles. “Thank you, Natalya. Thank you.”
When he kisses her, she freezes again and she still doesn't know what to do. She has to put up with it. Wasn't that the whole idea? He's not exactly being rough with her, probably because he's still got that whole idea that his feelings for her are noble. But her clothes are coming undone and he isn't pausing at all, and she wants to fight back but she thinks it's useless. Pointless. There is no going back now. She's panicking and she knows it, but if she can just keep her mouth shut for five minutes, she might just figure out whatever the hell it is she was meant to do with all this to begin with.
He grabs her and he pushes her and he touches her, and it's dirty and cold and disgusting and wet, but she'll be just fine as long as she can follow what's going on and keep breathing.
*
“M-Miss Belarus?”
She jumps a little at the sound but soon realises she's got nothing to worry about; it's the tiny, shaky kid who probably couldn't harm a flea just because he doesn't have the muscle tone. “What do you want?”
As always, Latvia looks like he's about to cry. “I - I was worried about Lithuania.”
She avoids his eyes. “Why?”
Latvia hesitates. “I - it's - Russia. I'm frightened.”
She snorts. “Of course. Everyone's always so frightened of big brother,” the idiots, why can't they see he's just trying to help them- “What makes this special?”
Latvia bites his lip. “I - Russia's been focusing so much on Lithuania lately, and he's - well, he's the favourite.”
“...Pardon?”
“Russia treats him like-” she's clearly driving the boy even further into the depths of mental illness than usual, but nevermind - “Russia likes him. Wants him, in some way that's more than just... well, uh, I just - with someone like Russia, I worry he'd - do something. If he really wants...”
The boy is clearly desperate for her to step in and stop him having to explain this further, but Belarus says nothing.
She wants to hurt him. Stab him, beat him, anything; how dare you think brother would do something like that! She screams in her head, desperate to force reason into him. Just hearing it physically hurts. She can't breathe.
“Do you really think Russia is capable of that?” she asks quietly.
“Well, y-yes.”
She takes a deep breath. Liar! Idiot! “I see,” she says. “I don't.”
“O-oh,” the boy stutters. He seems frightened. Good. “I just thought - you may have seen something-”
“I haven't.” She doesn't think of those scars running down Lithuania's back. Whatever happened there, he deserved everything he got. “Leave me alone.”
“Oh, of - of course, Miss Belarus.”
He stands to leave, but she changes her mind. “Latvia - have you ever been in love?”
He turns around, looking confused and more frightened. “N-no, Miss.”
She nods. “Good,” she says. “You're lucky. It is - terrifying, and consuming. It will destroy you from the inside out. And you will destroy those around you. Be grateful.”
“I - I will,” he says. She knows he doesn't mean it. “Good - goodbye.”
*
Afterwards, she panics.
“Oh - oh god.” Her dress is ripped and there is... something running down her thighs, and no, no, no.
Toris frowns and reaches out for her. “Natalya-”
“Shut up! Don't touch me!” she tries to pull her dress closer to cover up what she's revealed, but it doesn't work. She's shivering, and almost about to cry (again). He just sighs at her, mildly annoyed.
“I see. What's wrong with you this time?”
She stares at him.
And she starts crying.
Big, heaving sobs that get into her hair and what parts of her clothes are still actually dry. It makes her stomach hurt and her face itch; she tries to stop it, because she promised herself this bastard would never see her cry, but she's been breaking promises to herself left right and centre so why the hell not?
“Natalya,” Toris strokes her shoulder, and this time she doesn't even have the energy to stop him. “...I'm sorry.”
“Don't.” After everything that's happened, how can he possibly say sorry now? “You bastard, this is all your fault.”
“No it's not.”
She steps away from him, suddenly aware of where she is and who she is. She can't let him touch her, not now (not more). But she doesn't know what to say.
“I made it clear, remember?” he says. “I told you. You had a choice. It was your idea to begin with, remember? You can't possibly blame-”
“Shut up!” Logically, she guesses he's right, because it was her idea and she told him to, but - but it's not fair because she hated it and it was what he always wanted, and she only gave in because... she gave in. Why did she give in?
For the power over him. So I could stop having to fucking fight it every three seconds. So it can't be her fault. She's been living like this, terrified of him, for the last five hundred centuries and surely she can be forgiven for one moment of weakness?
But you promised. You said you'd be strong. That's right too; she told herself she'd resist him, no matter what, because he was wicked and evil and she couldn't reward that. But she has. And now, he'll keep her here forever out of the hope he might pull off the same trick twice with her...
“Natalya?” he asks, looking as innocent as he can. “Are you alright?”
She shakes her head. “No. What did you expect?”
He sighs, disappointed. How dare he - It all hurts so much and her head is killing her. The rest of her body is too, and to be frank she's a little worn out from... it. She can't put a word to it; she can barely acknowledge it happened. There's a huge dark space around this place in her memory. If that's what I think now, how the hell am I going to live with this for the rest of...
He gently cups her face and she shies away, staring at the food on the floor. God, she made a mess there. After a few efforts to get her to look him in the eyes, he gives up. “Well, call me a fool,” he says. “I thought I might be able to prove something.”
She shivers violently and when he lets her go, she folds herself up as much as possible. “I want - where is Katayusha?”
He gives her a look. “With Poland, you know that. I won't go get her for you. Do you think you could tell her about this anyway?”
No. No, of course she couldn't. Sweet, protective, useless Katayusha who would be horrified for her and would fight for her, but nothing would change. She won't be just Toris's victim. She's been playing that role in her own head for so long; she can barely remember a time she wasn't, but she won't let that get to other people. She is currently collecting and reshaping the scraps of her pride currently all over the floor with their leftover food.
And what about Ivan? At least Katayusha has been here; she may understand. But Ivan... he would be so ashamed of her. For given in to such a person - after all, Toris said Ivan was an enemy.
She frowns. He said Ivan may come for him - and if he did that, he would come for her. She didn't realise that, was overwhelmed by the idea she'd be here forever, and she did... that. If she'd only believed in her brother...
And something suddenly makes sense. She needs to believe in Ivan. He is, and always was, the only thing that could save her.
*
There is a meeting, for some reason. They all have to be there; the representatives of each SSR, as well as each country that made that pact in Warsaw.
Things have been confused and disoriented lately. Russia doesn't know what to do; she knows that. He wants things to be better, but he doesn't want to lose them all. Belarus wishes she could help him, but she has no experience with this sort of thing and he'd just run away if she tried in any case.
Poland is giving them all a smug, contemptuous look. Hungary is staring out the window, dreaming of far-away lands unknown. Ungrateful bastards.
“Belarus,” there's a hand on her shoulder and she jumps a mile high. “Oh, sorry!” says Lithuania. “I didn't mean to frighten you. I was just asking - Russia's late; do you know where he is?”
She's ashamed to say, she doesn't. She looked all over the house for him this morning; she needed to see him (she's never been any good at these meetings) but no matter what she did, she couldn't find him. She even checked all his regular hiding spots in the floor. What happened?
She grits her teeth and answers his question. “I don't know, Lithuania,” she says.
“Alright.” And he just stays there, hovering above her. She is mildly annoyed with it to begin with, and then it starts to frighten her.
“Do you want something?” she asks.
Vaguely, she's aware they're all beginning to stare at her. Let them, she thinks spitefully. She doesn't owe them anything.
“No,” he says. “I just didn't move because there are a lot of people here and not much room.”
“...Oh.” There isn't a lot she can say to that, so she decides to try and ignore him. The people around her are all off in their own little conversations (and largely cowering from her in fear). She pulls herself into her own little cocoon.
But it doesn't work, because she can hear him behind her. She doesn't even know if he's looking at her, but she can sense him; even as he's reassuring Latvia no-one has died as far as they know or reminding Poland exactly how expensive and economically risky dying all wheat produced different colours would actually be, he's still doing it behind her, and the idea of him breathing on her makes her shiver. God, I'm a mess.
She knows it's irrational. She's been living with him like this for decades, and at one point or another she must get used to the idea of his presence. Because Russia wants him to stay, and who is she to deny Brother Russia anything?
Calm down, she tells herself - he's made some kind of joke to Ukraine, and she's laughing at it, and it's all so unfair. Ukraine was there. Ukraine is her sister. Doesn't she know, what he did? Shouldn't she care? True, it has been a long time, but - she has spent less time free of him than with him, and surely she is allowed to care, even if nobody else does.
But that won't help, it's not what Russia wants of her, so she needs to stop it. She needs to calm down and learn to live with it, and she knows she can; she was stuck with him for five centuries and eventually she adapted-
She grabs the fabric of her dress and digs her nails in. No. Don't even think about that. That was a stupid, foolish, angry moment. She was tired. Angry. Alone. No-one can blame her for finally giving in, and it certainly doesn't characterise her entire experience with him. That wouldn't be fair.
“Belarus? Are you okay?” comes his voice from behind her.
“I'd be a lot better if you would go somewhere else,” she says. People stare.
Lithuania looks somewhat embarrassed. “Um, Belarus - I already explained this. Is it really that important to you?”
She closes her eyes. Russia, please come soon. I'm scared.
“I want you out of here.”
“Oh jesus christ woman, calm down!” says Poland from the other side of the couch. “We've all gotta be here for the meeting, okay? Deal with it.”
She recoils violently. Ukraine reprimands Poland with a finger. Well, at least she'll stand up for me a little. “Poland, don't be so harsh,” she says. “But Bela - don't you think you're overreacting?”
She glares and turns away. She can't rely on them. Lithuania sighs from behind her. “If - if it's so much of a problem I'll just move.”
Belarus snorts at his concession. “What? You'll respect my wishes once people start actually paying attention?”
She spins around to face him. He's uncomfortable. “Belarus - Miss - Natalya-”
“Don't call me that! That's what you always used to call me; don't do it now, because it's over and you can't do it to me again, you can't do any of it, so don't you dare call me that!”
She's on her feet and on the edge of tears, balling her fists and god dammit, where is her knife? Everyone is staring now, and the Central Asian nations who were pointing and laughing at the soap opera are now gawping. Latvia is shaking in fear and Estonia is trying to comfort him. Ukraine appears utterly perplexed and saddened.
Lithuania clearly has no idea what to do.
“I - Belarus-” he reaches out for her, “-Natalya, my dear-”
“I am not your dear! I am not yours!”
She pulls back and punches him, hard, barely seeing what she's doing. “Shut up! Just shut up!” she wails on him. “You can't say anything. It's over! You can't have me! I'm not yours, I'm not yours, I'm not-”
Lithuania punches her in return and sends her stumbling backwards, barely staying upright. He looks remarkably self-satisfied. “Are you happy now?”
She raises a hand to her face. Her nerve is gone. “I - I'm not-” she stutters, desperately trying to get the fog in her mind to clear. “I - I'm-”
She latches on to the one thing that has always been able to save her.
“I'm - I'm his.”
Lithuania sighs and gives her a look of resignation. She ignores him.
“I'm his.”
She runs.
*
He is the one chained up now. Russia tells her its only temporary, unfortunately; until Lithuania's spirit is broken. She wants to see him broken. Physically, mentally, emotionally - she wants to see him pay.
She hasn't told Russia this, though. She thinks she might scare him.
She can never let Russia know what really happened when she was stuck with Lithuania. The way he would look at her - even if he didn't blame her at all, she couldn't stand it. To be a victim. No. Better let Russia believe she was just conquered like any other territory; according to the official record, nothing other than that happened. Her people aren't thrilled to have been taken from Lithuania and put with Russia. Idiots.
It's a stupid idea, to sneak into Lithuania's room (quarters? Cell?) without telling Russia. She doesn't even know why she's going there - to gloat? Nonetheless, she's doing it because really, she's not that smart.
He looks stunned to see her. “Natalya,” he says. “You're here.”
“Indeed.” Neither of them have anything to say. “You lost.”
He gives her a quizzical look. “Well, yes. It's uncommon to get conquered when you win the war, you know.”
“You lost and I won,” she says. “Everything you went through to make me yours - it didn't work. I fought you and eventually, I won. I escaped.”
Lithuania sighs sadly, staring at the floor. “It was never meant to be a battle.”
“You have an odd way of showing that.”
He looks up at her again. “So are you happy now? That your beloved brother Russia has come for you? Do you think it will be better? That he'll protect you from people like me?”
“Yes.”
He stares. “Dear god - what did I do to you?” he asks. “Look at you. You're not even connected to your people anymore - they're terrified of this!”
“They'll come around.”
“How blind can you possibly be Belarus?!”
She pauses. “You don't usually call me that.”
“I - no?” He seems confused. “I always wanted to call you your human name. I felt - closer to you. But given our current status and how you feel about me, I didn't think that would be a good idea.”
“You just said my human name.”
“I thought of it between the two sentences.”
She shakes her head. “Russia doesn't want people calling me that. Belarus,” she says. “Don't.”
“And you?”
“It doesn't matter.”
“I really did break you, didn't I?” he asks. “When I had you-”
“You never had me, Toris!” she shouts. “You just made me hate you and kept me against my will! I never belonged to you, do you understand that?”
There's a pause. “Right. I didn't have you,” he says. “Well, except that one time-”
“Shut up!”
He sighs. “I am sorry, for all of it, you know,” he says. “Looking back - I was so obsessed. I convinced myself that, somehow, it was your fault - that you were the one doing this to me. That I should be commended for resisting as much as I did.”
“Do you expect me to pity you?”
He shakes his head. “I don't know why you came to see me,” he says. “Didn't you just want it to be over?”
“It is over,” she says. “I just wanted to see - you're alone. That's what you deserve.”
*
“Russia! Brother Russia!” she bolts down the corridor, barely avoiding tripping over her skirt. “Russia, please, come out, I need you!”
She's so frightened. She doesn't even know what she's frightened of; clearly no-one is coming after her, and what could Lithuania possibly do to her now? But it is Lithuania, it is Toris, and he has always been this monster and she needs her big brother to protect her - isn't that the job of a big brother?
She runs to the door to Russia's room, and finds it locked. From the sound of things there's no-one in there anyway. She collapses against it, crying. Russia will come back for her. He has to, right? To protect and fight for her. That's what he does, right?
“Russia, please,” she sobs. “Please come out... I'm scared, Russia, please...”
*
He can hear his sister sobbing above him. She has done this before. Played the victim to activate his fraternal instincts, then ambushed him when he was least expecting it. So much of him wants to go up there to comfort her, but he's smarter than that.
This is a new hiding spot; one he pushed Lithuania to install rather quickly. He was brutal about it. But he is frightened and he loses his mind when it comes to her.
Belarus sobs above him, and Russia shivers down in the hole. He hopes he won't shake the floorboards and give his position away. He is so tired of having to fear her, when she follows him to the ends of the earth and scares away his friends and violates his privacy like he is nothing but something she can use to help herself...
His sister is a monster, and he is so, so scared.
Author: hyperemmalawlz
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Chapter: 3/3
Characters/Pairing: Lithuania/Belarus (not consensually), Belarus/Russia (the same), Ensemble
Word Count: 6530
Rating: R
Summary: It might be forgotten, but Belarus does have a reason to hate Lithuania.
Warnings: swearing, kidnapping and false imprisonment, violence, stalking and sexual harassment, dub/non-con.
Author's Notes: Written for , the prompt: "Lithuania, when the Kievan Rus broke apart and Belarus went to stay with him, was actually quite cruel. I want to see this aspect of their relationship. " The conclusion, which took forever to write because I FAIL LIFE. Sorry orz.
“There you are; could you please tell me what the hell is going on-” She doesn't even get to finish her sentence before Toris drags her up, by the hair, slamming her against the wall.
She's confused. She woke up this morning in one of the dungeon cells, where she has never been held, even when she was first captured, or after her many escape attempts. She was in a new section of the house with Katyusha, in preparation for the impending transfer; what happened.
“...Ow. Okay, seriously, what's going on? Where's my sister? Why am I in the dungeon- agh!”
He twists her hair again, hard, and it hurts. “Your brother came for you,” he murmurs.
“...What?”
He pushes her back roughly and she flinches. “There was a war,” he says. “He wanted to get you back. He almost...”
Natalya's mind races as she tries to understand this; she hasn't seen her brother since the thirteenth century - “Ivan!” she calls out, thoughtlessly trying to break past and find him, to escape. Of course Toris stops her; he grabs her and squeezes brutally, and she cringes in pain. Her barely notices, the crazy bastard.
“Knew it,” he says. “I knew you'd go running to him, want to escape. I dragged you here for a reason.”
“Don't play victim,” she snarls. “You have held me here for the last four hundred years, pretty clearly against my will, and - and he's my brother, so don't act like this is some unexpected-”
“God, you're an idiot!” He throws her against the wall again, harder this time, and she hisses. The cell is build from stone, rather roughly. “Do you - you don't even remember your brother, do you? What do you think he'd do, if he were in my position, because believe me not all people have my restraint.”
He snarls in her face and she holds her breath. She tries to stay composed, though. “I don't know. What would he do?” There's a pause, and she makes herself smirk (even if she's locked up and just a little terrified, best to make him feel as powerless as possible). “What would you do, if you weren't so fucking moral?”
He steps back and slaps her across the face.
She only takes a moment to recoil. “See? Morality.”
He punches her this time.
“You should be grateful.”
This is insane, even for him. Most of the time, his is a slow crazy. She wonders how far she can push it. “Guess so. Why don't you give it a few more goes; y'know, teach me a lesson?”
He grabs her by the arms and throws her to the floor.
“Fuck,” she mutters. She's starting to feel the burn, the pain from where he hit her. She wonders if Katyusha will ask her questions. She wonders if that Poland man will ask him. She doubts it; he's never seemed to care much for how Toris treats her.
“I've tried to help you,” he mutters, kneeling on the floor. He's going back into that soft mode he's usually in, the one that makes everyone think he's so much better than any other power with a colony. Idiots. “Natalya... if only you could appreciate... If you'd accepted this a long time ago, things would be so much easier.”
She swallows hard, not quite daring to raise herself on the floor. “Yes, because all this oppression and captivity. Very helpful.”
He shakes his head. “You have had money, you have had culture. Many worse things have happened. Believe me, if I fall and can no longer protect you - Russia will get you. And then you will understand me so much better.”
He pushes himself back up, and she sits again when his back is turned. There are things she wants to yell, something like don't pretend your reasons have ever been anything but selfish and obsessive! But she has a question to ask. “Where is Katyusha? We were meant to be together for now, in preparation for the new duchy, remember?”
“She's with Poland. Russia came for her too, but Poland's okay with things,” he says. “That duchy won't be going ahead now. If I'm this close to losing you, I shouldn't push it further.”
An overwhelming wave of anger and illness suddenly crushes through her. This was - the one decent thing he ever did, to give her some kind of freedom, and now... “But that's not fair!” she cries like a child. “I didn't do anything wrong!”
“But you would have if you'd known. You'd have wanted Russia to take you away. Idiot.”
His smile is affectionate again, and she has to avert her eyes. That's not wrong, she tells herself, but nothing will come of telling him that. “...I thought you wanted me to be happy,” she says, looking back at him cautiously.
He looks at her blankly. “I want you to be happy with me. You'll understand one day.”
He walks out the door, locking it behind himself. She collapses on the floor, too tired to keep fighting when he's not even here. Suddenly the emotions start to sink in, because Ivan-
Oh god, Brother was here and he could have saved her, and Katyusha too no doubt, she was so close to getting out of here and she didn't even know until it was too late. It's too late.
Tears start prickling and she closes her eyes. Don't be pathetic. It happened and it's a disappointment and she must move on, live in this, like she has done for the last four fucking hundred years.
But for now, she lies in a dark, cold stone cell without even a bed, and pretends its not too late and her brother will come rescue her soon.
*
She hears a hissing from the bathroom off in the left wing, far too close to her brother's house, and morbidly curious ventures in.
What she finds is none too unexpected. Lithuania, shirtless and covered in fresh wounds upon the back, which have torn open semi-healed scars too. He is clumsily trying to apply some lotion, tears welling in his eyes from the pain. Weak.
“Belarus,” he says, catching her by surprise. He smiles stupidly. “What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
“I heard a hissing in here. If an animal died, the smell would be around for weeks.”
“Ah.”
“What happened?”
“Russia. As always.”
She nods. Her face remains blank.
“You're not surprised?”
“No.” She understands perfectly well why her beloved Brother would want to make this bastard suffer. “I've seen things before. I've had to get the blood out of your clothes. What do I have to be surprised about?”
He looks back at the mirror. “But he's never done anything like this to you, right?”
“No. Why would he?”
The blood seeps down his back, making its own pretty little trails. “I don't know. Why do you think he does it to me?”
She can't hold it back. “You deserve it.”
She can see his cringing in the mirror. She could almost say the blood starts to run faster at her words, although she's not sure that's actually possible. Pathetic. She refuses to feel guilty for causing him more suffering - this is Lithuania, and what she says is truth. He deserves everything Russia does to him, everything she could do to him, and more besides.
“Oh,” he says, struggling to keep his tone light. He sounds like he'll cry as soon as she's not here to listen. “Then I suppose I can't convince you to help me with the wounds?”
“Do you think you can trick me again?!” she asks with a furious snarl, trying to fight off the wave of nausea that comes when she imagines it, having to touch his bare skin and help him... “No. This is one thing you will simply have to deal with yourself; I don't concern myself with the plight of animals.”
She runs out of the room and into the middle hallway. She knows Russia is hiding under the floorboards there tonight, and she won't try and get him out for now, but she has to feel close to him just for a few minutes so she doesn't throw up.
*
She understands that things are going badly for him. The schadenfreude is vaguely undermined by the fact when things go badly for him, things sort of start going badly for the rest of them.
Tonight, he makes her dine with him, sitting across a table with candles and fine food. Like he is genuinely trying to romance her, or like this is some kind of anniversary celebration. She wonders if this is what he always wanted, really; the way he would have treated her if she hadn't always been so determined to defy him and everything he asked of her.
They don't make much conversation. They don't really have anything to talk about, as for all his obsession with her over the years they don't seem to have much in common. Not for the first time, she wonders why he is so obsessed with her to begin with. He saw her once and decided she must be his forever. Was he following her before that? Did he see her with her family and decide she belonged somewhere else? She shivers and tries to block off the thoughts. They don't even matter, really.
“Do you like the meal?” Toris asks her, focusing her attention again. She hesitates.
“...It's edible.” Of course, the food is fantastic, but she refuses to show her appreciation. Not to him. It doesn't seem to work, in any case, by the way he smiles at her.
“That means good to you, correct?” It doesn't seem like he needs an answer, so she just ignores it. She eats the food (fuck, it is really good).
“...Maybe,” she says. It feels too much like giving up, but she's tired of trying to come up with excuses for everything ever.
He smiles softly at her, and she avoids his eyes. “I understand, Natalya,” he says. “I've gotten used to equating how you actually feel about things with what you say.”
She gulps. “You don't understand me at all.”
He sighs. “Natalya, just eat your dinner?”
After a pause, she concedes and does so.
“So,” she says, “I've heard you've been talking to my brother lately.”
“Natalya-”
“What? Don't I have the right to ask about that? I do live with you, and he is my brother-”
There's suddenly a smashing sound and Toris has risen to his feet. “God, you're so ungrateful!”
“Toris!”
“Haven't I done everything for you?” he shouts. “I've given you room, and food; I haven't worked you to death; I haven't made you become just like me - most women would be grateful! Grateful! But no, not you, you just try and escape and go on about your beloved brother - and I let you! I've never once punished you for the way you treat me! It's pathetic; I'm pathetic.”
Delusional, maybe. Has he forgotten it all? How he's taxed her? How he took her people for himself? How he's beaten her for daring not to love him the way he loves her, when she never even wanted to meet him to begin with? “Don't you dare pity yourself,” she says and takes another bite. She wants to stay calm.
He yanks her plate away and smashes it too. She jumps. “Don't tell me what to do.”
She narrows her eyes. “Why not? It's not like I'm naive enough to believe it'll actually work.”
He smiles. It's a soft smile, and it frightens her much more than the yelling. He's just completely unpredictable. “That's right. You think you're so powerless, don't you?” She about to reply with something about having been held captive for the last half a millennium or so, when suddenly he yanks her out of the chair by the wrist. “Really, Natalya, do you think I don't know?”
“...Know what?”
“Who I am! What I am around you.” He starts to laugh, still keeping her firmly in place. “I'm not a bad person, Natalya. I'm far better than anyone else you know. Far, far better than that brother of yours you're still so obsessed with. I mean, what happened to you when he and Sweden invaded... but it's just when I'm around you.”
She keeps her head high and her gaze steady. “What the hell are you talking about? And what do you think you're doing, dragging my brother into this?”
“You already dragged him in.” He shakes his head, and slowly strokes her face. She doesn't bother flinching; it wouldn't help. “You make me crazy, Natalya. A monster. A madman.”
He grabs her by the waist and pulls her in close, making her gasp. “It's all your fault. Don't you even feel guilty?”
She's trying to stay composed, but her breath gets shallow. “That doesn't even make sense,” she says, avoiding his eyes. “I'm no angel, but I'm not your guiding light. I'm not responsible for what you do.”
He pulls back and pushes her back onto the table. Ow, she thinks but she doesn't cry out. She quickly pushes herself back up again, just to stare at him with contempt. He runs his fingers through his hair. “You are such a bitch.”
“You know for all the insults, you've always actually seemed quite fond of me.”
He rolls his eyes. “There you go. Again with those sarcastic comments. Don't pretend you're so self-assured - you're a scared little girl, and I'm the one scaring you; we both know that.”
“Then what do you want from me? If I'm this horrible woman whose led you on and broken your heart, what exactly am I meant to do to make it all better?”
He goes still and gives her a long, slow, lingering look. “You know what,” he whispers.
She clenches her jaw. “No.”
He just keeps looking at her for awhile, until a bitter smirk spreads across his face. “Of course. You're special,” he says. “You know, anyone else would have just given in by now. Would have made it easier on themselves, if nothing else; given them some kind of control over the situation. But that's you, always with the honour and not the reason. It's actually rather annoying.”
“I'm sorry, are you asking me to manipulate you?” she asks, getting increasingly confused by this whole situation. “Or do you think I'm still naive enough to let you trick me into being whatever you want?”
He laughs. “I'm sorry, in what alternate universe are you not naive?” he asks. “Or are you not listening to yourself? Word of advice, people like you - they don't become the powers. They don't get to control their own destiny. Underhanded manipulation is pretty much the only way forward, and you're too damned self-righteous for that. And you still think that one day, your big brother's going to come in and fix it all. And he'll care. That you'll still be more than just a bit more territory to a guy who's already invaded pretty much every land he could get his hands on, just because he could,” he spreads his hands out like a magician, directing her gaze to some miracle. She looks away, ashamed. “It's not going to happen. You're stuck with me,” he says. “I mean, how long has it been so far?”
She looks up, burning with pain and rage. “Oh really? No-one cares about me?” she says, leaning back against the table slowly. “Well, that's not true. You clearly do. And you know what, you're right; I have been decidedly ungrateful. Well, okay then.”
She lifts up her skirts and spreads her legs, still avoiding his eyes. There's still lots of stuff on this table, so she brushes it off and makes loud, cluttering, destructive noise - when she looks up, he's just staring.
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
“What do you think you're doing?”
She shrugs. “Giving you what you want. If I'm stuck here anyway, why bother resisting, right?”
He seems confused. Bastard, he does not have the right to get confused by this shit. “Why?”
“Didn't I just explain that?” she says, and he's likely about to point something out, but she's not giving him the opportunity to interrupt and (what's the answer to his goddamn question?) make this into another one of those things that he does. Another way to make himself into, somehow, the normal one in this whole fucked up thing. “Come on. I doubt you've changed your mind that much. After all this nagging and self-pity you'd think you'd jump at-”
Suddenly her back's on the table and that's harder than she imagined, he's on top of her and she just freezes. She wants to scream. She wants to scream, bite, kick; do whatever it is she's been doing for the last five hundred fucking years to ward him off, and that doesn't even make any sense; she just told him to do this but god only knows she wishes she could remember why.
He pulls back, not far enough that she can see anything past him, but enough that she can't possibly pretend he is anyone else. She holds her breath. “I'd like to make it very clear: you have a choice here,” he says. “I'm not forcing you into anything.”
She gulps. “Right. You're a stand-up guy; you'd never do anything like that?”
“This was your idea.” He snaps into soft mode again (god, she gets sick of his mood swings), stroking her hair gently. She doesn't know what to do. “Are you changing your mind?”
She swallows hard. She wants to cry. She wants to do a lot of things she's been avoiding for the last five hundred years, but she doesn't because fuck it, she doesn't give in to him... all evidence to the contrary. She shakes that thought away and squirms into a more comfortable position on the table. “No. Do what you want. I'm being pragmatic.”
“Really?”
She nods. “If I'm stuck with you, this will keep you happy. If not - then I've got something clear to complain about when they come for me.”
There's a pause as he brushes her hair away, cups her face and lifts it off the table. And he smiles. “Thank you, Natalya. Thank you.”
When he kisses her, she freezes again and she still doesn't know what to do. She has to put up with it. Wasn't that the whole idea? He's not exactly being rough with her, probably because he's still got that whole idea that his feelings for her are noble. But her clothes are coming undone and he isn't pausing at all, and she wants to fight back but she thinks it's useless. Pointless. There is no going back now. She's panicking and she knows it, but if she can just keep her mouth shut for five minutes, she might just figure out whatever the hell it is she was meant to do with all this to begin with.
He grabs her and he pushes her and he touches her, and it's dirty and cold and disgusting and wet, but she'll be just fine as long as she can follow what's going on and keep breathing.
*
“M-Miss Belarus?”
She jumps a little at the sound but soon realises she's got nothing to worry about; it's the tiny, shaky kid who probably couldn't harm a flea just because he doesn't have the muscle tone. “What do you want?”
As always, Latvia looks like he's about to cry. “I - I was worried about Lithuania.”
She avoids his eyes. “Why?”
Latvia hesitates. “I - it's - Russia. I'm frightened.”
She snorts. “Of course. Everyone's always so frightened of big brother,” the idiots, why can't they see he's just trying to help them- “What makes this special?”
Latvia bites his lip. “I - Russia's been focusing so much on Lithuania lately, and he's - well, he's the favourite.”
“...Pardon?”
“Russia treats him like-” she's clearly driving the boy even further into the depths of mental illness than usual, but nevermind - “Russia likes him. Wants him, in some way that's more than just... well, uh, I just - with someone like Russia, I worry he'd - do something. If he really wants...”
The boy is clearly desperate for her to step in and stop him having to explain this further, but Belarus says nothing.
She wants to hurt him. Stab him, beat him, anything; how dare you think brother would do something like that! She screams in her head, desperate to force reason into him. Just hearing it physically hurts. She can't breathe.
“Do you really think Russia is capable of that?” she asks quietly.
“Well, y-yes.”
She takes a deep breath. Liar! Idiot! “I see,” she says. “I don't.”
“O-oh,” the boy stutters. He seems frightened. Good. “I just thought - you may have seen something-”
“I haven't.” She doesn't think of those scars running down Lithuania's back. Whatever happened there, he deserved everything he got. “Leave me alone.”
“Oh, of - of course, Miss Belarus.”
He stands to leave, but she changes her mind. “Latvia - have you ever been in love?”
He turns around, looking confused and more frightened. “N-no, Miss.”
She nods. “Good,” she says. “You're lucky. It is - terrifying, and consuming. It will destroy you from the inside out. And you will destroy those around you. Be grateful.”
“I - I will,” he says. She knows he doesn't mean it. “Good - goodbye.”
*
Afterwards, she panics.
“Oh - oh god.” Her dress is ripped and there is... something running down her thighs, and no, no, no.
Toris frowns and reaches out for her. “Natalya-”
“Shut up! Don't touch me!” she tries to pull her dress closer to cover up what she's revealed, but it doesn't work. She's shivering, and almost about to cry (again). He just sighs at her, mildly annoyed.
“I see. What's wrong with you this time?”
She stares at him.
And she starts crying.
Big, heaving sobs that get into her hair and what parts of her clothes are still actually dry. It makes her stomach hurt and her face itch; she tries to stop it, because she promised herself this bastard would never see her cry, but she's been breaking promises to herself left right and centre so why the hell not?
“Natalya,” Toris strokes her shoulder, and this time she doesn't even have the energy to stop him. “...I'm sorry.”
“Don't.” After everything that's happened, how can he possibly say sorry now? “You bastard, this is all your fault.”
“No it's not.”
She steps away from him, suddenly aware of where she is and who she is. She can't let him touch her, not now (not more). But she doesn't know what to say.
“I made it clear, remember?” he says. “I told you. You had a choice. It was your idea to begin with, remember? You can't possibly blame-”
“Shut up!” Logically, she guesses he's right, because it was her idea and she told him to, but - but it's not fair because she hated it and it was what he always wanted, and she only gave in because... she gave in. Why did she give in?
For the power over him. So I could stop having to fucking fight it every three seconds. So it can't be her fault. She's been living like this, terrified of him, for the last five hundred centuries and surely she can be forgiven for one moment of weakness?
But you promised. You said you'd be strong. That's right too; she told herself she'd resist him, no matter what, because he was wicked and evil and she couldn't reward that. But she has. And now, he'll keep her here forever out of the hope he might pull off the same trick twice with her...
“Natalya?” he asks, looking as innocent as he can. “Are you alright?”
She shakes her head. “No. What did you expect?”
He sighs, disappointed. How dare he - It all hurts so much and her head is killing her. The rest of her body is too, and to be frank she's a little worn out from... it. She can't put a word to it; she can barely acknowledge it happened. There's a huge dark space around this place in her memory. If that's what I think now, how the hell am I going to live with this for the rest of...
He gently cups her face and she shies away, staring at the food on the floor. God, she made a mess there. After a few efforts to get her to look him in the eyes, he gives up. “Well, call me a fool,” he says. “I thought I might be able to prove something.”
She shivers violently and when he lets her go, she folds herself up as much as possible. “I want - where is Katayusha?”
He gives her a look. “With Poland, you know that. I won't go get her for you. Do you think you could tell her about this anyway?”
No. No, of course she couldn't. Sweet, protective, useless Katayusha who would be horrified for her and would fight for her, but nothing would change. She won't be just Toris's victim. She's been playing that role in her own head for so long; she can barely remember a time she wasn't, but she won't let that get to other people. She is currently collecting and reshaping the scraps of her pride currently all over the floor with their leftover food.
And what about Ivan? At least Katayusha has been here; she may understand. But Ivan... he would be so ashamed of her. For given in to such a person - after all, Toris said Ivan was an enemy.
She frowns. He said Ivan may come for him - and if he did that, he would come for her. She didn't realise that, was overwhelmed by the idea she'd be here forever, and she did... that. If she'd only believed in her brother...
And something suddenly makes sense. She needs to believe in Ivan. He is, and always was, the only thing that could save her.
*
There is a meeting, for some reason. They all have to be there; the representatives of each SSR, as well as each country that made that pact in Warsaw.
Things have been confused and disoriented lately. Russia doesn't know what to do; she knows that. He wants things to be better, but he doesn't want to lose them all. Belarus wishes she could help him, but she has no experience with this sort of thing and he'd just run away if she tried in any case.
Poland is giving them all a smug, contemptuous look. Hungary is staring out the window, dreaming of far-away lands unknown. Ungrateful bastards.
“Belarus,” there's a hand on her shoulder and she jumps a mile high. “Oh, sorry!” says Lithuania. “I didn't mean to frighten you. I was just asking - Russia's late; do you know where he is?”
She's ashamed to say, she doesn't. She looked all over the house for him this morning; she needed to see him (she's never been any good at these meetings) but no matter what she did, she couldn't find him. She even checked all his regular hiding spots in the floor. What happened?
She grits her teeth and answers his question. “I don't know, Lithuania,” she says.
“Alright.” And he just stays there, hovering above her. She is mildly annoyed with it to begin with, and then it starts to frighten her.
“Do you want something?” she asks.
Vaguely, she's aware they're all beginning to stare at her. Let them, she thinks spitefully. She doesn't owe them anything.
“No,” he says. “I just didn't move because there are a lot of people here and not much room.”
“...Oh.” There isn't a lot she can say to that, so she decides to try and ignore him. The people around her are all off in their own little conversations (and largely cowering from her in fear). She pulls herself into her own little cocoon.
But it doesn't work, because she can hear him behind her. She doesn't even know if he's looking at her, but she can sense him; even as he's reassuring Latvia no-one has died as far as they know or reminding Poland exactly how expensive and economically risky dying all wheat produced different colours would actually be, he's still doing it behind her, and the idea of him breathing on her makes her shiver. God, I'm a mess.
She knows it's irrational. She's been living with him like this for decades, and at one point or another she must get used to the idea of his presence. Because Russia wants him to stay, and who is she to deny Brother Russia anything?
Calm down, she tells herself - he's made some kind of joke to Ukraine, and she's laughing at it, and it's all so unfair. Ukraine was there. Ukraine is her sister. Doesn't she know, what he did? Shouldn't she care? True, it has been a long time, but - she has spent less time free of him than with him, and surely she is allowed to care, even if nobody else does.
But that won't help, it's not what Russia wants of her, so she needs to stop it. She needs to calm down and learn to live with it, and she knows she can; she was stuck with him for five centuries and eventually she adapted-
She grabs the fabric of her dress and digs her nails in. No. Don't even think about that. That was a stupid, foolish, angry moment. She was tired. Angry. Alone. No-one can blame her for finally giving in, and it certainly doesn't characterise her entire experience with him. That wouldn't be fair.
“Belarus? Are you okay?” comes his voice from behind her.
“I'd be a lot better if you would go somewhere else,” she says. People stare.
Lithuania looks somewhat embarrassed. “Um, Belarus - I already explained this. Is it really that important to you?”
She closes her eyes. Russia, please come soon. I'm scared.
“I want you out of here.”
“Oh jesus christ woman, calm down!” says Poland from the other side of the couch. “We've all gotta be here for the meeting, okay? Deal with it.”
She recoils violently. Ukraine reprimands Poland with a finger. Well, at least she'll stand up for me a little. “Poland, don't be so harsh,” she says. “But Bela - don't you think you're overreacting?”
She glares and turns away. She can't rely on them. Lithuania sighs from behind her. “If - if it's so much of a problem I'll just move.”
Belarus snorts at his concession. “What? You'll respect my wishes once people start actually paying attention?”
She spins around to face him. He's uncomfortable. “Belarus - Miss - Natalya-”
“Don't call me that! That's what you always used to call me; don't do it now, because it's over and you can't do it to me again, you can't do any of it, so don't you dare call me that!”
She's on her feet and on the edge of tears, balling her fists and god dammit, where is her knife? Everyone is staring now, and the Central Asian nations who were pointing and laughing at the soap opera are now gawping. Latvia is shaking in fear and Estonia is trying to comfort him. Ukraine appears utterly perplexed and saddened.
Lithuania clearly has no idea what to do.
“I - Belarus-” he reaches out for her, “-Natalya, my dear-”
“I am not your dear! I am not yours!”
She pulls back and punches him, hard, barely seeing what she's doing. “Shut up! Just shut up!” she wails on him. “You can't say anything. It's over! You can't have me! I'm not yours, I'm not yours, I'm not-”
Lithuania punches her in return and sends her stumbling backwards, barely staying upright. He looks remarkably self-satisfied. “Are you happy now?”
She raises a hand to her face. Her nerve is gone. “I - I'm not-” she stutters, desperately trying to get the fog in her mind to clear. “I - I'm-”
She latches on to the one thing that has always been able to save her.
“I'm - I'm his.”
Lithuania sighs and gives her a look of resignation. She ignores him.
“I'm his.”
She runs.
*
He is the one chained up now. Russia tells her its only temporary, unfortunately; until Lithuania's spirit is broken. She wants to see him broken. Physically, mentally, emotionally - she wants to see him pay.
She hasn't told Russia this, though. She thinks she might scare him.
She can never let Russia know what really happened when she was stuck with Lithuania. The way he would look at her - even if he didn't blame her at all, she couldn't stand it. To be a victim. No. Better let Russia believe she was just conquered like any other territory; according to the official record, nothing other than that happened. Her people aren't thrilled to have been taken from Lithuania and put with Russia. Idiots.
It's a stupid idea, to sneak into Lithuania's room (quarters? Cell?) without telling Russia. She doesn't even know why she's going there - to gloat? Nonetheless, she's doing it because really, she's not that smart.
He looks stunned to see her. “Natalya,” he says. “You're here.”
“Indeed.” Neither of them have anything to say. “You lost.”
He gives her a quizzical look. “Well, yes. It's uncommon to get conquered when you win the war, you know.”
“You lost and I won,” she says. “Everything you went through to make me yours - it didn't work. I fought you and eventually, I won. I escaped.”
Lithuania sighs sadly, staring at the floor. “It was never meant to be a battle.”
“You have an odd way of showing that.”
He looks up at her again. “So are you happy now? That your beloved brother Russia has come for you? Do you think it will be better? That he'll protect you from people like me?”
“Yes.”
He stares. “Dear god - what did I do to you?” he asks. “Look at you. You're not even connected to your people anymore - they're terrified of this!”
“They'll come around.”
“How blind can you possibly be Belarus?!”
She pauses. “You don't usually call me that.”
“I - no?” He seems confused. “I always wanted to call you your human name. I felt - closer to you. But given our current status and how you feel about me, I didn't think that would be a good idea.”
“You just said my human name.”
“I thought of it between the two sentences.”
She shakes her head. “Russia doesn't want people calling me that. Belarus,” she says. “Don't.”
“And you?”
“It doesn't matter.”
“I really did break you, didn't I?” he asks. “When I had you-”
“You never had me, Toris!” she shouts. “You just made me hate you and kept me against my will! I never belonged to you, do you understand that?”
There's a pause. “Right. I didn't have you,” he says. “Well, except that one time-”
“Shut up!”
He sighs. “I am sorry, for all of it, you know,” he says. “Looking back - I was so obsessed. I convinced myself that, somehow, it was your fault - that you were the one doing this to me. That I should be commended for resisting as much as I did.”
“Do you expect me to pity you?”
He shakes his head. “I don't know why you came to see me,” he says. “Didn't you just want it to be over?”
“It is over,” she says. “I just wanted to see - you're alone. That's what you deserve.”
*
“Russia! Brother Russia!” she bolts down the corridor, barely avoiding tripping over her skirt. “Russia, please, come out, I need you!”
She's so frightened. She doesn't even know what she's frightened of; clearly no-one is coming after her, and what could Lithuania possibly do to her now? But it is Lithuania, it is Toris, and he has always been this monster and she needs her big brother to protect her - isn't that the job of a big brother?
She runs to the door to Russia's room, and finds it locked. From the sound of things there's no-one in there anyway. She collapses against it, crying. Russia will come back for her. He has to, right? To protect and fight for her. That's what he does, right?
“Russia, please,” she sobs. “Please come out... I'm scared, Russia, please...”
*
He can hear his sister sobbing above him. She has done this before. Played the victim to activate his fraternal instincts, then ambushed him when he was least expecting it. So much of him wants to go up there to comfort her, but he's smarter than that.
This is a new hiding spot; one he pushed Lithuania to install rather quickly. He was brutal about it. But he is frightened and he loses his mind when it comes to her.
Belarus sobs above him, and Russia shivers down in the hole. He hopes he won't shake the floorboards and give his position away. He is so tired of having to fear her, when she follows him to the ends of the earth and scares away his friends and violates his privacy like he is nothing but something she can use to help herself...
His sister is a monster, and he is so, so scared.