Thrice Have You Stepped
The moment Russia brought Prussia through the door, Belarus had a gun pointed at his head. Luckily, Russia had decided to give Prussia his own weapon back, as proof that he wouldn’t just be a slave in his household. Seconds after he saw Belarus, Prussia had his own gun at the ready.
“What is this?” she snarled.
Standing by the door, Russia just smiled serenely at both of them. “He’s come to live with us.”
“Him?” Belarus demanded. “Why him? The other’s I understand and even approve of. Him we should take out back and shoot.”
Russia shrugged and shook his head. “No. He stays with us.”
Snarling, Belarus shoved her gun back into its holster before stalking away in a swirl of her hair. Shivering slightly, Prussia also put away his weapon to find Russia draping himself over the beaten nation. “She’ll come around,” he said, smiling.
Still shivering-from the cold of course-Prussia nodded.
Weeks later, Prussia was trying to fix some part of Russia’s house when Belarus came up behind him. “I will not suffer a rival for my brother’s affections,” she told him and he nearly dropped the hammer and nail he held in his hands. “He belongs to me.”
Prussia gaped at her for a moment. “What the hell? I never wanted your brother’s affections.”
Her look was as hard and cold as the ice outside the window. “Then you do not understand anything,” she said. “Perhaps you should talk more with the other countries who have lived under this roof.”
As she walked away, a knot of cold dread settled into Prussia’s stomach. “Hey!” he yelled after her. “What the hell do you mean by that?” She didn’t answer. “HEY!”