Axis Powers Hetalia - Russia/Lithuania - PG - Bloody Sunday (1905)
Title: Bloody Sunday 1905
Author: Ema (lightningrapier)
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: Russia & Lithuania
Rating: PG
Warnings: Confusing Russian history under the cut.
Word Count: 574
Notes: I really like Russia.
Disclaimer: APH is owned by Hidekaz and not be me. This was done so I could have a friend in the fandom, not to rip off of his storylines. This was also done from the lovely scanslation by youkofujima, which you can find here. Thank you for the translation!
If you want to find out more about the Bloody Sunday Incident in Russia in 1905, follow this link. Hopefully that won't be necessary to understand the article.
The mob had marched into Saint Petersburg, to the Czar's Winter Palace, after they'd gathered earlier that day. They were workers -- disgruntled with their jobs, they'd drawn up petitions demanding change and they and their families had begun the march -- a peaceful, unarmed demonstration they hoped would inspire positive change.
At least, it had started that way -- but as the mob of people got closer and closer, Russia and Lithuania watched from a window in the Winter Palace, their faces drawn in surprise and concern. Russia couldn't quite understand where the sudden protest was coming from. He stared down at the mass of approacking people, carrying flags, crosses, signs, shouting phrases, chanting, singing hymns as they approached -- and they didn't sound happy. Russia could pick out a few of the cries, loud, repeating, as the mob drew nearer.
"Bring us the Czar! This nation has gone mad!"
"Freedom and higher wages!"
"Think of our suffering!"
Even the thick falling snow was not enough to trouble the approaching mass...
"This is getting serious," Russia murmured to Lithuania, his face not moving from the window, his heavy breathing creating fog on the glass. Lithuania, who'd been lingering in the doorway, averted his gaze.
"And the Czar isn't even here," he answered, quietly. "It appears His Highness is having tea in the palace..." And by that, Russia thought, Lithuania must have meant the Summer Palace... or perhaps another home...
"I see," he answered, his voice trailing.
"But I'm sure they'll clear out by tomorrow," Lithuania said, trying to inject brightness into his voice. It hurt him to see Russia so glued to that window, hands pressed to the cold glass, unmoving -- so melancholy.
But it seemed as if Russia hadn't even heard him.
"Why does it always end up like this," he murmured. "I finally made this nation stronger and more prestigous than others, all by myself... I worked so hard... why is it that nothing goes right? Why do they always end up hating me?" No matter what Russia did, the people would rebel -- the people were angry. And Russia... hated it. He hung his head, his face flushing, overheating in a mixture of anger and sadness. Tears flooded his eyes. "Everyone says it's my fault, my fault, my fault. I've endured it for centuries. Why can't everyone just get along nicely with each other?"
Lithuania, for a moment, didn't know what to do or what to say. He took a small step into the room, trying to think of what to do to console Russia further -- but all thought flew from his head when the room suddenly filled with a blast of icy cold wind. The long, heavy drapes that had been hanging at the window flew in the wind, snow blowing into the room, brushing Lithuania's hair back.
"R-Russia?" he asked, shocked, his gaze staring at the man who'd just thrown the window open. The gun that had been sitting at the side of the window was in Russia's hands, and Lithuania felt his stomach jump.
"Hey, Lithuania," Russia murmured, turning finally towards the boy, a small smile on his face. Lithuania could barely hear Russia over the sound of the shouts from below, now amplified ten-fold. "We don't want children who can't play nice, right?"
Before Lithuania could answer, Russia had turned back to the window, and the boy watched in shock as the man before him readied the gun against his shoulder, aiming into the crowd and beginning to fire.
Author: Ema (lightningrapier)
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: Russia & Lithuania
Rating: PG
Warnings: Confusing Russian history under the cut.
Word Count: 574
Notes: I really like Russia.
Disclaimer: APH is owned by Hidekaz and not be me. This was done so I could have a friend in the fandom, not to rip off of his storylines. This was also done from the lovely scanslation by youkofujima, which you can find here. Thank you for the translation!
If you want to find out more about the Bloody Sunday Incident in Russia in 1905, follow this link. Hopefully that won't be necessary to understand the article.
The mob had marched into Saint Petersburg, to the Czar's Winter Palace, after they'd gathered earlier that day. They were workers -- disgruntled with their jobs, they'd drawn up petitions demanding change and they and their families had begun the march -- a peaceful, unarmed demonstration they hoped would inspire positive change.
At least, it had started that way -- but as the mob of people got closer and closer, Russia and Lithuania watched from a window in the Winter Palace, their faces drawn in surprise and concern. Russia couldn't quite understand where the sudden protest was coming from. He stared down at the mass of approacking people, carrying flags, crosses, signs, shouting phrases, chanting, singing hymns as they approached -- and they didn't sound happy. Russia could pick out a few of the cries, loud, repeating, as the mob drew nearer.
"Bring us the Czar! This nation has gone mad!"
"Freedom and higher wages!"
"Think of our suffering!"
Even the thick falling snow was not enough to trouble the approaching mass...
"This is getting serious," Russia murmured to Lithuania, his face not moving from the window, his heavy breathing creating fog on the glass. Lithuania, who'd been lingering in the doorway, averted his gaze.
"And the Czar isn't even here," he answered, quietly. "It appears His Highness is having tea in the palace..." And by that, Russia thought, Lithuania must have meant the Summer Palace... or perhaps another home...
"I see," he answered, his voice trailing.
"But I'm sure they'll clear out by tomorrow," Lithuania said, trying to inject brightness into his voice. It hurt him to see Russia so glued to that window, hands pressed to the cold glass, unmoving -- so melancholy.
But it seemed as if Russia hadn't even heard him.
"Why does it always end up like this," he murmured. "I finally made this nation stronger and more prestigous than others, all by myself... I worked so hard... why is it that nothing goes right? Why do they always end up hating me?" No matter what Russia did, the people would rebel -- the people were angry. And Russia... hated it. He hung his head, his face flushing, overheating in a mixture of anger and sadness. Tears flooded his eyes. "Everyone says it's my fault, my fault, my fault. I've endured it for centuries. Why can't everyone just get along nicely with each other?"
Lithuania, for a moment, didn't know what to do or what to say. He took a small step into the room, trying to think of what to do to console Russia further -- but all thought flew from his head when the room suddenly filled with a blast of icy cold wind. The long, heavy drapes that had been hanging at the window flew in the wind, snow blowing into the room, brushing Lithuania's hair back.
"R-Russia?" he asked, shocked, his gaze staring at the man who'd just thrown the window open. The gun that had been sitting at the side of the window was in Russia's hands, and Lithuania felt his stomach jump.
"Hey, Lithuania," Russia murmured, turning finally towards the boy, a small smile on his face. Lithuania could barely hear Russia over the sound of the shouts from below, now amplified ten-fold. "We don't want children who can't play nice, right?"
Before Lithuania could answer, Russia had turned back to the window, and the boy watched in shock as the man before him readied the gun against his shoulder, aiming into the crowd and beginning to fire.