For My Freedom and Yours: Chapter 2
Title: For My Freedom and Yours: Chapter 2
Author: lady_nuriko
Rating: M/NC-17 for later chapters
Warnings: Abuse, Violence, Non-Con
Pairing(s): Implied Poland/Lithuania, Russia/Lithuania
Disclaimer: I don't own any nations either as land masses or anthropomorphised. Hetalia and all related characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Summary: Life in Russia's house doesn't seem so bad at first but the illusion of peace quickly dissolves and Lithuania is left trying desperately to cling to the memory of real love and the hope for freedom.
I woke up in my own bed with the moonlight shining through the windows. For a surreal moment I thought that my encounter with Russia had been some tormented dream but the soreness around my neck and the fact that I was still wearing my clothing from the previous day made the reality of my situation clear. I wondered what had I done to upset Russia in such a way. Why would he be upset that Poland and I were exchanging letters? I wasn’t privy to any confidential information. The letters were completely innocent. I made up my mind right then that I would have to speak to Russia about the incident and that I would continue the correspondence regardless of his feelings. With my decision made I changed into my nightgown and went back to bed.
Confronting Russia was much more difficult than it sounded. I barely saw the man over the next week and whenever I did he would have some excuse to leave again. Maybe it was out of guilt or maybe it was embarrassment but, regardless, it was obvious he was avoiding me so when an opportunity presented itself I was quick to grab hold. I spotted Estonia carrying a tray of tea down the hall and saw my chance.
I fell in step with the other Baltic and inquired lightly, “Is that for Mr. Russia?”
His step faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. “Yes. He likes to have tea in the afternoon when he’s working.” I didn’t miss the subtle hint. I would be disturbing Russia’s work if I bothered him now but I was determined to speak with him.
I took the tray out of his hands with a smile. “I’ll take it to him. Why don’t you go help Latvia with the dusting?”
He frowned looking hesitant. “I don’t think…”
“He always has such trouble with the taller shelves and I wouldn’t want anything to get broken.” That convinced him. If something got broken Latvia would be in trouble and Estonia, being the tallest of us, was the logical choice to help. He was still reluctant but he gave me a curt nod and left.
I knocked softly at the office door and after hearing the muffled “Enter” from the other side I opened it.
“Estonia, you’re later than usual today. What could have…” Russia looked up from the document he was reviewing and the false smile he wore tightened at the corners. “You are not Estonia.”
I brought the tray in and set it on the corner of his desk before starting into the motions of pouring and preparing a cup for the other man. “Estonia is helping Latvia with the dusting so that the top shelves can be cleaned properly. I apologize for the change in routine.” I held the cup out to him by the saucer between firm fingers.
Russia looked past the drink and into my unwavering eyes before carefully taking the delicate china from me and placing it on the desk in front of him. “How… thoughtful of him.” Taking a sip from his cup he turned violet eyes back to his work. I stood there fidgeting for a moment before clearing my throat to get his attention. The larger man didn’t even look up as he addressed me. “I’m a bit busy at the moment so unless there’s something pressing you needed me for I’d prefer that you leave.”
I wasn’t likely to get a better chance so I took a shaky breath before starting. “You have no right to tell me who I can or can’t send personal letters to.” Russia’s entire body tensed. I felt a pang of sympathy for the pen being squeezed in a hand I knew all too well to be brutally strong. “I understand if you want to review my correspondences to make sure I’m not divulging any information that could compromise you or any of us living within your house but I thought you should know that I have decided that, despite your disapproval, I will continue writing to Poland.”
The pen’s wooden handle snapped and the nib broke under the pressure of being pressed upon. The fragment of metal flying in an unknown direction to be lost until the next time the office was thoroughly cleaned. Still, eyes didn’t move from the now ink-smeared paper they were fixed on.
“Leave… now.” The command was spoken with the tremble of barely-contained rage. Wisely choosing not to push my luck I bowed and walked out a few steps too fast to properly conceal my fear.
…oO0Oo…
My dear Poland,
I apologize for the delay in my reply. There was a measure of turmoil here that required my attention. Thankfully all has been settled and I am able to finally take the time to write. It seems to me that time is no longer marked by days and weeks but by the space between each of your letters arriving and, although I wish you no grief, there is a selfishness to me that hopes it is the same for you.
I’ve felt the distance between us more keenly over this past week than any other. No matter what my worries you always had the right words to make me smile. Without you I seem to get lost in the labyrinth of my own thoughts too easily and I’ll find myself going ‘round in circles more oft than not but the echo of your presence is even there in my mind to soothe me.
Forever yours,
Lithuania
The words flowed from the pen as quickly and smoothly as the ink allowed. I would have rather sent Poland some assurance of my happiness and wellbeing but my heart wasn’t in it. I was drained, both physically and mentally, and I desperately yearned to hear his lilting voice and feel his gentle hands. I felt that his simple presence would make everything better but, denied his presence as I was, all I had to console myself with was the painful wait for his return letter.
…oO0Oo…
Day after day I waited for his reply but none came, so I wrote again then again and again. With each letter I wrote I became increasingly agitated. At first I included a simple “I never received your response” which changed to “I’m beginning to worry for you” and eventually “Please. I just need to know that you’re well” but Latvia’s trembling hands never held anything for me.
After nearly three months with no word I was a mass of overwrought nerves. I was losing sleep, hardly eating, and barely able to manage my chores. I kept assuring myself that I certainly would have heard if something had befallen Poland. Even partitioned, he was certainly important enough that word would have been sent out if there was anything seriously wrong but my mind kept circling back to every worst case scenario I could imagine.
When the day’s work was done my feet automatically brought me to the parlor. Most of my evenings were spent at that desk. More often than not I just sat staring at the blank page before me. What more did I have to say? What plea could I send to bring a response?
I let out a weary sigh as I opened the door only to freeze at the familiar scene. Russia was waiting for me seated at the desk holding a familiar piece of parchment tied with a ribbon. A stack of identical letters sat on the desk next to him and I started to tremble. Rage threatened to eclipse reason so I clenched my fists tight enough to feel the bite of nails against my palms.
The tenseness of my frame didn’t go unnoticed by the man before me and I saw his smile that fraction further. “Nice of you to join me, Lithuania. I was just doing some light reading.” He waved the letter in his hand slightly. “I believe you’re familiar with the material already.”
I stepped fully into the room. “Those aren’t for you.”
He continued as though he hadn’t heard me. “This one’s my favorite. ‘I’m so worried for your wellbeing. My dreams have been haunted by terrible visions.’” I sneered at the sound of his heavy accent marring the polish words I had taken such care to write. “‘In these dreams you’re hurt and I, for whatever reason, am unable to reach you. Each time I awake sobbing.’” He chuckled. “I think that this certainly must be disturbing Latvia and Estonia’s sleep as well.”
“Those letters are for Poland,” I said pointing a shaking finger at the stack of letters. “I’ve been worrying myself sick because I haven’t been receiving replies, and this whole time Poland has been waiting for mine?”
That infuriating smile broke into a full grin as Russia nodded. “Да. It’s been most amusing for me to watch you tear yourself apart with anxiety. I almost wish I could see the effect this has had on your dearest Poland, after all,” he pulled another letter, one with my name written across it in curling script, from within his coat, “his letters are just as distraught sounding as yours.”
It was as though my body moved on its own in that moment lunging for the letter as though it was my heart itself that Russia held. In one fluid motion he stood grabbing the wrist of my outstretched hand and knocked one of my ankles from under me with a well-placed foot. The world seemed to shift and I found myself on the floor with a boot between my shoulder blades pressing me into the rug.
“To be honest,” Russia continued the conversation as though he hadn’t just thrown me to the floor, “I had thought that both of you would give up when you stopped receiving replies from each other. I underestimated your tenacity, but no matter.” The heel of the larger man’s boot dug into Lithuania’s back as he spoke. “You’re going to do as I suggested before and tell Poland to stop this nonsense.”
“I’ll do no such thing!” I ground out through gritted teeth. I couldn’t twist around to get a proper look at the man above me but I could easily feel the menace emanating from him.
“Is that so?” His grip shifted from my wrist to hold my pinky finger between his gloved fingers squeezing painfully. My mind flew back to the pen broken so easily in two. My mind spun with the horror of the thought. Certainly he wouldn’t. I needed my hands for my chores, after all.
I heard the crunch of breaking bone before my mind could process the pain. I had the fleeting thought that it was more of a wet tearing sound than the sharp snap that the pen had made. Then the pain hit me. I had suffered broken bones before, of course, but having a bone deliberately singled out and crushed was very much different. My scream caught in my throat coming out as a pathetic, strangled noise.
Russia caressed the broken digit almost tenderly causing jolts of pain before shifting his grip again to my ring finger. “We’re going to try that again. You’re going to write to Poland and tell him to stop sending those letters.”
You could call it courage or foolishness, but the words were out of my mouth before I had the chance to think better of it. “Go to Hell!” That won me another broken finger and another choked scream.
I felt Russia twist my hand this way and that as he examined his work. “I suppose you’ll need the rest of this hand to write with.” He let go and I immediately pulled my hand in as close to my body as I could manage in the position I was in letting out a sob more in frustration at my defenselessness than any pain I was feeling. The weight on my back shifted as Russia bent down to capture my other hand, my left hand. “You don’t need your left hand, though.”
My shoulder was pulled at an uncomfortable angle but that was the least of my concerns as I felt those leather clad digits on my pointer finger. “Are you ready to do as I ask now?”
I muffled my sob against the rug but said nothing. Another finger was broken. I could feel my erratic pulse throbbing in the two now swelling on my right hand.
The grip moved to my middle finger. “Poor Lithuania. It doesn’t have to be this way. I don’t want to hurt you.” I very much doubted that. He was taking some sick pleasure in this torture. “How many bones are you going to make me break because of your stubbornness? Are you going to sacrifice your whole hand, your arm, your legs, just to spare that man a few harsh words?”
It wasn’t any kindness towards Poland that kept me from agreeing. It was about my own freedom, my own pride. As the next finger was broken and I screamed my pain and anger into the floor beneath me I began to wonder if that was really a valid reason to endure this. The fall of men and nations alike could be attributed to pride.
I was no longer listening to whatever Russia was saying in that falsely kind tone of his caught up in my own mind as I was. Two more fingers had fallen victim while I chased my own thoughts. Tears were flowing down my face to dampen the rug my face was pressed to. At the feel of that grip on my thumb I finally broke.
“Stop! Please!” My voice was raw and strained from my screams and the pain radiating from each mangled bone.
The silenced stretched between us only broken by my harsh breath until Russia finally spoke. “Are you ready to do as I ask now?”
I sobbed hard as I spoke. “Yes. Just, please, stop.”
The boot was suddenly gone from my back and I was being lifted, almost gently, and deposited in the chair at the desk. I looked forlornly at the stack of neat letters addressed to Poland but I didn’t dare touch them. A blank parchment and pen were placed in front of me then the same gloved hand that had just caused me such pain was petting my hair gently. I started trembling at the touch but took the pen between my precious, undamaged, fingers.
“Now wright just as I say.”
Poland,
I must ask you to cease in this ridiculous correspondence. It is clear that our separation is a fact that we must accept and wallowing in the past will not change this matter. To be quite frank, your letters have become most bothersome to me.
I am happy in my new home and encourage you to find your own happiness in the life you have but regardless of what joy you may or may not find I do not wish to hear of it. I will no longer be sending you word of my own life either so consider this a final farewell.
Goodbye,
Lithuania
-oO0Oo-
Author’s Note: Ah! The abuse has gone up a notch! Sorry for the ridiculous wait for this chapter. I had to derail my train of thought so I could work on cosplay for Sakura Con then I had a hard time getting it back on the tracks but it’s an extra-long chapter to make up for it. Yay!
To everyone who reviewed or added me to their favorites/alerts: THANK YOU! You are a huge motivator to actually work on this. I’m certainly writing this for everyone who’s out there reading it but your support makes the work a little more worthwhile for me.
purple-ripples: Well I can’t disobey the scary Belarus voice! ;)
Arukas: I’m actually generally non-reviewer myself. I’m so bad. I’m glad you liked the end. I hadn’t thought of it as being breath-play until you mentioned it. I was just thinking Russia being Russia. I think Russia being in a fic IS a warning. XD Don’t worry. You’ll get more of that later though.
Author: lady_nuriko
Rating: M/NC-17 for later chapters
Warnings: Abuse, Violence, Non-Con
Pairing(s): Implied Poland/Lithuania, Russia/Lithuania
Disclaimer: I don't own any nations either as land masses or anthropomorphised. Hetalia and all related characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Summary: Life in Russia's house doesn't seem so bad at first but the illusion of peace quickly dissolves and Lithuania is left trying desperately to cling to the memory of real love and the hope for freedom.
I woke up in my own bed with the moonlight shining through the windows. For a surreal moment I thought that my encounter with Russia had been some tormented dream but the soreness around my neck and the fact that I was still wearing my clothing from the previous day made the reality of my situation clear. I wondered what had I done to upset Russia in such a way. Why would he be upset that Poland and I were exchanging letters? I wasn’t privy to any confidential information. The letters were completely innocent. I made up my mind right then that I would have to speak to Russia about the incident and that I would continue the correspondence regardless of his feelings. With my decision made I changed into my nightgown and went back to bed.
Confronting Russia was much more difficult than it sounded. I barely saw the man over the next week and whenever I did he would have some excuse to leave again. Maybe it was out of guilt or maybe it was embarrassment but, regardless, it was obvious he was avoiding me so when an opportunity presented itself I was quick to grab hold. I spotted Estonia carrying a tray of tea down the hall and saw my chance.
I fell in step with the other Baltic and inquired lightly, “Is that for Mr. Russia?”
His step faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. “Yes. He likes to have tea in the afternoon when he’s working.” I didn’t miss the subtle hint. I would be disturbing Russia’s work if I bothered him now but I was determined to speak with him.
I took the tray out of his hands with a smile. “I’ll take it to him. Why don’t you go help Latvia with the dusting?”
He frowned looking hesitant. “I don’t think…”
“He always has such trouble with the taller shelves and I wouldn’t want anything to get broken.” That convinced him. If something got broken Latvia would be in trouble and Estonia, being the tallest of us, was the logical choice to help. He was still reluctant but he gave me a curt nod and left.
I knocked softly at the office door and after hearing the muffled “Enter” from the other side I opened it.
“Estonia, you’re later than usual today. What could have…” Russia looked up from the document he was reviewing and the false smile he wore tightened at the corners. “You are not Estonia.”
I brought the tray in and set it on the corner of his desk before starting into the motions of pouring and preparing a cup for the other man. “Estonia is helping Latvia with the dusting so that the top shelves can be cleaned properly. I apologize for the change in routine.” I held the cup out to him by the saucer between firm fingers.
Russia looked past the drink and into my unwavering eyes before carefully taking the delicate china from me and placing it on the desk in front of him. “How… thoughtful of him.” Taking a sip from his cup he turned violet eyes back to his work. I stood there fidgeting for a moment before clearing my throat to get his attention. The larger man didn’t even look up as he addressed me. “I’m a bit busy at the moment so unless there’s something pressing you needed me for I’d prefer that you leave.”
I wasn’t likely to get a better chance so I took a shaky breath before starting. “You have no right to tell me who I can or can’t send personal letters to.” Russia’s entire body tensed. I felt a pang of sympathy for the pen being squeezed in a hand I knew all too well to be brutally strong. “I understand if you want to review my correspondences to make sure I’m not divulging any information that could compromise you or any of us living within your house but I thought you should know that I have decided that, despite your disapproval, I will continue writing to Poland.”
The pen’s wooden handle snapped and the nib broke under the pressure of being pressed upon. The fragment of metal flying in an unknown direction to be lost until the next time the office was thoroughly cleaned. Still, eyes didn’t move from the now ink-smeared paper they were fixed on.
“Leave… now.” The command was spoken with the tremble of barely-contained rage. Wisely choosing not to push my luck I bowed and walked out a few steps too fast to properly conceal my fear.
…oO0Oo…
My dear Poland,
I apologize for the delay in my reply. There was a measure of turmoil here that required my attention. Thankfully all has been settled and I am able to finally take the time to write. It seems to me that time is no longer marked by days and weeks but by the space between each of your letters arriving and, although I wish you no grief, there is a selfishness to me that hopes it is the same for you.
I’ve felt the distance between us more keenly over this past week than any other. No matter what my worries you always had the right words to make me smile. Without you I seem to get lost in the labyrinth of my own thoughts too easily and I’ll find myself going ‘round in circles more oft than not but the echo of your presence is even there in my mind to soothe me.
Forever yours,
Lithuania
The words flowed from the pen as quickly and smoothly as the ink allowed. I would have rather sent Poland some assurance of my happiness and wellbeing but my heart wasn’t in it. I was drained, both physically and mentally, and I desperately yearned to hear his lilting voice and feel his gentle hands. I felt that his simple presence would make everything better but, denied his presence as I was, all I had to console myself with was the painful wait for his return letter.
…oO0Oo…
Day after day I waited for his reply but none came, so I wrote again then again and again. With each letter I wrote I became increasingly agitated. At first I included a simple “I never received your response” which changed to “I’m beginning to worry for you” and eventually “Please. I just need to know that you’re well” but Latvia’s trembling hands never held anything for me.
After nearly three months with no word I was a mass of overwrought nerves. I was losing sleep, hardly eating, and barely able to manage my chores. I kept assuring myself that I certainly would have heard if something had befallen Poland. Even partitioned, he was certainly important enough that word would have been sent out if there was anything seriously wrong but my mind kept circling back to every worst case scenario I could imagine.
When the day’s work was done my feet automatically brought me to the parlor. Most of my evenings were spent at that desk. More often than not I just sat staring at the blank page before me. What more did I have to say? What plea could I send to bring a response?
I let out a weary sigh as I opened the door only to freeze at the familiar scene. Russia was waiting for me seated at the desk holding a familiar piece of parchment tied with a ribbon. A stack of identical letters sat on the desk next to him and I started to tremble. Rage threatened to eclipse reason so I clenched my fists tight enough to feel the bite of nails against my palms.
The tenseness of my frame didn’t go unnoticed by the man before me and I saw his smile that fraction further. “Nice of you to join me, Lithuania. I was just doing some light reading.” He waved the letter in his hand slightly. “I believe you’re familiar with the material already.”
I stepped fully into the room. “Those aren’t for you.”
He continued as though he hadn’t heard me. “This one’s my favorite. ‘I’m so worried for your wellbeing. My dreams have been haunted by terrible visions.’” I sneered at the sound of his heavy accent marring the polish words I had taken such care to write. “‘In these dreams you’re hurt and I, for whatever reason, am unable to reach you. Each time I awake sobbing.’” He chuckled. “I think that this certainly must be disturbing Latvia and Estonia’s sleep as well.”
“Those letters are for Poland,” I said pointing a shaking finger at the stack of letters. “I’ve been worrying myself sick because I haven’t been receiving replies, and this whole time Poland has been waiting for mine?”
That infuriating smile broke into a full grin as Russia nodded. “Да. It’s been most amusing for me to watch you tear yourself apart with anxiety. I almost wish I could see the effect this has had on your dearest Poland, after all,” he pulled another letter, one with my name written across it in curling script, from within his coat, “his letters are just as distraught sounding as yours.”
It was as though my body moved on its own in that moment lunging for the letter as though it was my heart itself that Russia held. In one fluid motion he stood grabbing the wrist of my outstretched hand and knocked one of my ankles from under me with a well-placed foot. The world seemed to shift and I found myself on the floor with a boot between my shoulder blades pressing me into the rug.
“To be honest,” Russia continued the conversation as though he hadn’t just thrown me to the floor, “I had thought that both of you would give up when you stopped receiving replies from each other. I underestimated your tenacity, but no matter.” The heel of the larger man’s boot dug into Lithuania’s back as he spoke. “You’re going to do as I suggested before and tell Poland to stop this nonsense.”
“I’ll do no such thing!” I ground out through gritted teeth. I couldn’t twist around to get a proper look at the man above me but I could easily feel the menace emanating from him.
“Is that so?” His grip shifted from my wrist to hold my pinky finger between his gloved fingers squeezing painfully. My mind flew back to the pen broken so easily in two. My mind spun with the horror of the thought. Certainly he wouldn’t. I needed my hands for my chores, after all.
I heard the crunch of breaking bone before my mind could process the pain. I had the fleeting thought that it was more of a wet tearing sound than the sharp snap that the pen had made. Then the pain hit me. I had suffered broken bones before, of course, but having a bone deliberately singled out and crushed was very much different. My scream caught in my throat coming out as a pathetic, strangled noise.
Russia caressed the broken digit almost tenderly causing jolts of pain before shifting his grip again to my ring finger. “We’re going to try that again. You’re going to write to Poland and tell him to stop sending those letters.”
You could call it courage or foolishness, but the words were out of my mouth before I had the chance to think better of it. “Go to Hell!” That won me another broken finger and another choked scream.
I felt Russia twist my hand this way and that as he examined his work. “I suppose you’ll need the rest of this hand to write with.” He let go and I immediately pulled my hand in as close to my body as I could manage in the position I was in letting out a sob more in frustration at my defenselessness than any pain I was feeling. The weight on my back shifted as Russia bent down to capture my other hand, my left hand. “You don’t need your left hand, though.”
My shoulder was pulled at an uncomfortable angle but that was the least of my concerns as I felt those leather clad digits on my pointer finger. “Are you ready to do as I ask now?”
I muffled my sob against the rug but said nothing. Another finger was broken. I could feel my erratic pulse throbbing in the two now swelling on my right hand.
The grip moved to my middle finger. “Poor Lithuania. It doesn’t have to be this way. I don’t want to hurt you.” I very much doubted that. He was taking some sick pleasure in this torture. “How many bones are you going to make me break because of your stubbornness? Are you going to sacrifice your whole hand, your arm, your legs, just to spare that man a few harsh words?”
It wasn’t any kindness towards Poland that kept me from agreeing. It was about my own freedom, my own pride. As the next finger was broken and I screamed my pain and anger into the floor beneath me I began to wonder if that was really a valid reason to endure this. The fall of men and nations alike could be attributed to pride.
I was no longer listening to whatever Russia was saying in that falsely kind tone of his caught up in my own mind as I was. Two more fingers had fallen victim while I chased my own thoughts. Tears were flowing down my face to dampen the rug my face was pressed to. At the feel of that grip on my thumb I finally broke.
“Stop! Please!” My voice was raw and strained from my screams and the pain radiating from each mangled bone.
The silenced stretched between us only broken by my harsh breath until Russia finally spoke. “Are you ready to do as I ask now?”
I sobbed hard as I spoke. “Yes. Just, please, stop.”
The boot was suddenly gone from my back and I was being lifted, almost gently, and deposited in the chair at the desk. I looked forlornly at the stack of neat letters addressed to Poland but I didn’t dare touch them. A blank parchment and pen were placed in front of me then the same gloved hand that had just caused me such pain was petting my hair gently. I started trembling at the touch but took the pen between my precious, undamaged, fingers.
“Now wright just as I say.”
Poland,
I must ask you to cease in this ridiculous correspondence. It is clear that our separation is a fact that we must accept and wallowing in the past will not change this matter. To be quite frank, your letters have become most bothersome to me.
I am happy in my new home and encourage you to find your own happiness in the life you have but regardless of what joy you may or may not find I do not wish to hear of it. I will no longer be sending you word of my own life either so consider this a final farewell.
Goodbye,
Lithuania
-oO0Oo-
Author’s Note: Ah! The abuse has gone up a notch! Sorry for the ridiculous wait for this chapter. I had to derail my train of thought so I could work on cosplay for Sakura Con then I had a hard time getting it back on the tracks but it’s an extra-long chapter to make up for it. Yay!
To everyone who reviewed or added me to their favorites/alerts: THANK YOU! You are a huge motivator to actually work on this. I’m certainly writing this for everyone who’s out there reading it but your support makes the work a little more worthwhile for me.
purple-ripples: Well I can’t disobey the scary Belarus voice! ;)
Arukas: I’m actually generally non-reviewer myself. I’m so bad. I’m glad you liked the end. I hadn’t thought of it as being breath-play until you mentioned it. I was just thinking Russia being Russia. I think Russia being in a fic IS a warning. XD Don’t worry. You’ll get more of that later though.