Who\'s Afraid of Roderich Edelstein | By : CyreliaJ Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 1826 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of it's characters. I'm also not making any money off of this. |
Note: Many thanks to my beta Jazz E. Roislin for helping me coherently express myself. In this chapter a warning for offensive language and ideology. C&C is always welcome.
6“King’s Gambit”I used to rule the world.Seas would rise when I gave the word.
Now in the morning I sleep alone.
Sweep the streets I used to own.”
-Coldplay “Viva la Vida”Moscow, RussiaRussia’s House
February, 1960
“Read ‘em and weep, suckers, full house.” Prussia lays the cards down on the old wooden coffee table in the living room with a smug expression. Seated on the faded violet sofa across from him, Estonia’s expression is unusually calm as Prussia’s arms encircle the slugs they’ve been playing for. “Hmm… yes you do seem to have a decent hand,” he says at last. Seated next to him, Latvia looks somewhat suspect, and Lithuania exchanges a glance with the others as well. “But I believe that four aces are better.” He lays down the aces and Prussia swears that he sees him smirk.“What?! You fucking cheater; how in the hell do you have four of a fucking kind?!”He’s on his feet in an instant unable to believe what he’s looking at. He’d gone all in convinced he was going to win and now-“It’s simple mathematics,” Estonia replies pushing his glasses up his nose. “And arrogance on your part.” He calmly pulls the pile of slugs towards him, leaving Prussia with nothing. On either side of him, Lithuania and Latvia each hold a mere pittance; but it’s enough. He’s lost. “You little sneaks!” He realizes now that was their game all along. They played him perfectly, none of them looking the slightest bit repentant over it.“You lost, Gilbert,” Lithuania replies with a steel he never shows around Russia. “You’re the one sleeping with him tonight, not any of us.”“You cheated. You had to have cheated. You stupid little girls don’t even know how to fucking play poker!” Estonia snorts, rising with the thin blanket around his shoulders.“You assumed we didn’t know how to play poker. You assumed you were going to take advantage of our ‘naiveté’. Well, Gilbert, I guess you assumed wrong.” he turned around and if Prussia wasn’t so fucking sore from working in the damn factory all day he’d kick his ass. Assumed nothing, you fucking pussy I’d bet my left nut one of you has power over games of chance.“Ah... well I guess if you’d really been trying you’d have won,” Latvia offers just rubbing more salt in the wound and Prussia feels his right eye twitch. He had been trying that last hand; that was the fucking kicker of it. No wonder Russia likes to press on Latvia’s fucking head. He smiles and ruffles the little asshole’s hair: hard.“Haha, yeah. Of course I’d have won if I hadn’t underestimated you little pansies. Next time... next time you better watch out.”Next time he’ll just tell them all to go fuck themselves because he doesn’t care how long they’ve played this stupid game- this stupid “taking turns” bullshit. He’s not sleeping with that crazy sonofabitch again and he’s sure he’s strong enough to take on the three of them at once. When they take their leave, leaving him alone with the mess and the last of the vodka, Prussia allows himself to shiver. Christ, the fucking castle was warmer than this. He grabs the bottle and takes a swig straight from it allowing the warmth of the alcohol to fill him. It’s always freezing in the house in the winter. Well shit if I had four handy bed warmers I’d keep it cold as a witch’s tit in here too.As he puts away the cards and the metal slugs he consoles himself with the knowledge that it’ll be the three of them going outside tomorrow for bread; he hopes it fucking snows. Prussia dares a look at the clock knowing that there won’t be any more stalling before bed. He’ll need all the rest he can get any way to work tomorrow and fuck his hands feel as if they’ll never get used to sorting the damn pieces into the boxes. He absently fingers the iron cross around his neck whispering softly, “and he will cut him to pieces and assign him a place with the unbelievers...” The scar over his heart hurts the most in the cold and he wonders why Russia of all people had saved him.“This is going to hurt,” Russia said as he held the gun to his chest. The bastard looked far too cheerful when he said that. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
“Y’know, Ivan, drawing it out like a fucking interrogation doesn’t exactly help,” Prussia answered through a tight jaw gritting his teeth. “Would it kill you to give me a towel to bite? Last time this happened I almost bit my tongue off.” And his bosses almost shit themselves when he sat up in the back of the car and wrenched the bullet out with his fingers but he didn’t want to think about that any more.“No towel!” that cheerful childlike tone was unnerving him far more that the cold metal pressed to his bare chest. “I’ve never seen this before. I don’t want to dull the experience.” Prussia swore at him silently and closed his eyes steeling himself. He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt the barrel at his back instead.“Hmm... would it be better if I shot you in the back?” he asked thoughtfully and Prussia was tempted to grab the gun and just do it himself after all. He didn’t answer him. He was only asking Russia because it was easier; he wasn’t scared he just didn’t want to risk missing or something. The last two times just happened to be unexpected so he couldn’t do it himself. And Christ if he wanted to survive he needed to become East Germany and the only way he could do it was to die and be reborn in this moment when the window was open: with a shot through the heart while he knew they were finalizing the territory of the eastern bloc. But doing it this way produced another interesting effect he realized, than sitting in Russia’s bathroom waiting for the fucker to pull the damn trigger. The sense of dread was kicking his body into a hyper aware state but at least it’d be over faster with the way his heart was pumping. Right now he was standing naked in the fucking bathtub because apparently the three little concubines or what the fuck ever Russia was calling the Baltic States nowadays said they wouldn’t clean his blood off the floor. Fucking beautiful time for them to decide to take a stand on something.His eyes snapped open when he felt Russia tapping the barrel to his dick.
“What the fuck, you-”“You must be scared for it to be this tiny,” he said with a titter and Prussia almost hauled off and punched him.“It’s fucking cold in here, Ivan,” he growled. “Are you gonna do it already or are you gonna stand there smacking my dick around like a goddamn homo?”“You didn’t answer me,” Russia replied singsong ignoring the slur. “Shall I do it from the front, or shall I take you from behind?” He giggled.Prussia glared, not finding the last bit nearly as funny as Russia did. “It doesn’t matter where you fucking do it Ivan, just make sure it goes through my heart ‘cause if you hit something else instead I don’t-” Somehow he hadn’t heard the sound of the gun going off as Russia pulled the trigger. The distraction had been a small and unusual mercy that kept him from thinking too hard about what was about to happen right up until that moment. He looked at the splatter on the wall in front of him and the hole where the bullet had entered. Figures that fucker would shoot him in the back like a goddamn animal. It felt like lead when he brought his hand up instinctually to the wound to stop the bleeding and it hurt. God did it hurt and he could feel himself dying but it wasn’t fast enough because fuck no matter how many times this happened he’d never get used to it and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna look up and see that creepy bug eyed fucker staring at him like an ant beneath a magnifying glass. He could feel the warm blood spilling through his fingers and down his stomach but it was hard to focus on anything but the blinding pain even as his legs gave out and he felt himself falling. He didn’t feel himself hit the ground, and even as the endorphins released and he felt weightless and sleepy he somehow felt arms around him and a soft voice singing to him. She had sang to him too the first time he “died”. “Баю-баюшки-баю...” The world spun and in that moment he almost thought it would be okay to fall into the blessed darkness and see if he would truly be forgiven. “Не ложися на краю.” The hands on his face were oddly cold, but somehow he still found comfort in them. Bleeding out, he couldn’t hear or feel the beat of his heart but somehow he still felt a heartbeat against his cheek. “Придёт серенький волчок.” His eyes were closed and without breath he felt the rise and fall of someone’s chest as he lay back, cradled against warmth where his legs spread out on the cold porcelain of the tub. “Он ухватит за бочок.” That voice was faint, as if it were a thousand miles away as the soft lullaby finished, and he let the darkness overtake him. “И утащит во лесок. Под ракитовый кусток.”Prussia sighs as he makes his way up the stairs and down the endless hall of the old house shivering at the memory in spite of himself. He was half dead or unconscious when Russia breathed life into him but somehow he can still recall the other’s lips tasted of far less vodka than he’d imagined. If there was one thing that Russia had the decency never to mention was that final moment. Prussia blinks, only now realizing he’d brought his fingers to his lips. “So how stupid is the man who is unaware of his own immortality?” Somehow he remembers Russia’s words to him as he awoke and he realized in the moment, that all four of them stared at him lying in bed, that they all had expected him to die. So then it was only him after all with such power.
He flexes his hands absently as he feels the ache in his joints from the cold. “You’re gonna be waiting a helluva lot longer than that, assholes.” The floor creaks beneath his feet and he sees the doors stretch out like a dozen different fates. It’s not such an unpleasant thought when he imagines himself as some mighty king visiting his favorite concubine instead of a fallen empire going to warm the bed of his conqueror like a fucking whore. Immortal. God. Fuck lot of good it did him. Maybe Ivan’ll drink himself into a dead sleep and do me a favor tonight.He doesn’t knock. He opens the door and looks surprised when he sees the fireplace is actually going. “Ivan?” He enters cautiously, closing the door behind him. His eyes scan the vast chamber. He remembers a lifetime ago that it used to be decorated with fine baroque furniture, elegantly carved, with velvet cushions. The same old tapestries still hang on the walls, though they’ve faded like the rest of the room. He sees Russia sitting on the large antique sofa and feels his heart skip a beat in surprise. He sees Belarus next to him eating one of the sweet rolls that Lithuania had baked. Something feels off about the scene, as he takes a few steps and narrows his eyes in observation. Her hair is just a touch too blonde, and instead of looking shit fucking died terrified, Russia has some odd faraway look on his face as he drinks the alcohol and watches her eat.“Ah, Gilbert. I would’ve gotten someone for you, but it was Liet’s night so...” he shrugs not looking particularly apologetic. Prussia - hardly wanting a repeat of the last time Russia “got someone” for him - also sees an opportunity to put Lithuania in his place and turns to leave.“Oh well shit if he’s what you need to make it a party I can go get him.”“No, that won’t be necessary...” Prussia swallows at that, figuring it was far too simple. And wouldn’t it just be his luck if Russia had someone waiting in his room anyway.Prussia’s first reaction upon seeing her was to laugh. And as he watched her shadowed countenance change from a dignified resignation to anger even he could see why she still hated him so.“Oh fuck… you look… you look like a fucking whore…” He only glanced at her briefly when he opened the door to his sparse room but even the faint glimpse of her painted face and body hidden beneath a long belted trenchcoat was enough and she’d crossed the scant distance between them in that time. Ages ago she might have drawn a sword and run him through; but all the years she’d spent with Austria must’ve made her weak because she just stormed past him to the door without a word. He caught her wrist even as he’d nearly doubled over with his guffaws. It seems he wasn’t the only one who Russia had taken.“Let go,” was said through gritted teeth and he smiled at her even as he sat on the bed and complied. “I shoulda made you sit on my lap, schlampe,” he said lightly as he fished in the drawer of the nightstand for a cigarette. Hungary glared at him before taking a seat on an old green velvet chair next to the bed not bothering to wipe the dust off. She sat back and snorted.“You’re supposed to smoke after sex, not before, stupid…” Her arms were crossed with a distant frown on her face. “But I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about making love to a woman.” He didn’t rise to the bait, turning to face her as he lit the cigarette. “Pfah, like a guy could get it up for a cow like you.” Hungary tensed for just a moment but instead busied herself looking at the newspapers on the small table. “Why are you here anyway? Ivan too busy plowing one of those little girls to pay you any attention? You wanna talk about a guy who couldn’t get it up for a woman if his fucking life depended on it…” Somehow the more he talked the more she relaxed and as he took another drag on the cigarette she leaned in holding out a hand expectantly. “C’mon, Gilbert, tit for tat. Those are hard to come by nowadays. Besides, I’m your guest, not Ivan’s.” And he thought Russia had said something like a surprise waiting and he wondered what game the asshole was playing at. Russia had to know... “So you’re here for me, huh?” He fished another out and tossed it to her along with the lighter. “Hey stupid. I lost too, remember. The eastern bloc is just as fucked as this shit hole if not more-so. Here for me shit, I-““Just be quiet and listen for once you jackass.” She lit the cigarette taking a deep angry puff. “Or how about you answer a question from me and maybe you’ll get your stupid answer.” Hungary looked out the window. “Ivan hasn’t…” She sighed, seemed to consider the false start and proceeded with an unusual hesitation. It seemed as if she were changing the subject. “He hasn’t…” She seemed to be looking for a particular confirmation of something. “Not like with the others… he isn’t like that with you, is he?” And he was about to tell her to fuck off for even thinking that he’d let Russia have him like that when her demeanor gave him pause.He stopped and looked at her curiously, raising an eyebrow as he started unbuttoning his shirt. The action gave him more time to think and he could feel her eyes on him. ‘So the four-eyed devil made another fucking deal didn’t he?’ No... not Austria himself but-“Don’t get any weird ideas. I wouldn’t stick my dick in that for a whole carton of fucking smokes.” Prussia changes the subject, unnerved by the intensity of Hungary’s stare.“I don’t know why I even bother talking to you, asshole.” “Yeah well, it looks like I’m stuck with you til Ivan sends you the fuck home so you might as well suck it up.” He looked down, the ash falling between his spread legs to the floor as she shrugged the shirt off. Maybe he’d get lucky enough to burn the motherfucker down one of these days. “Don’t go getting your panties all wet over there.” He want to answer her question. He wanted to ask her why the hell she was asking him weird shit like that when they all had a lot more important things to worry about when he thought he heard something like a scream or whatever it was. No… no Russia hadn’t… not like that… “It’s none of your fucking business” was said at the same time as “don’t flatter yourself.” Hungary sighed and started unbuttoning the raincoat, letting the barely touched cigarette rest on the side of the ashtray and Prussia stood deliberately facing away from her. “It looks like Roderich has made his choice then,” was all she offered and Prussia made a ttch of irritation. She didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about. She had no idea what happened at their final meeting and all the shit between the war and now and he’d be damned if he ever told her. It seemed that Austria had decided a lot of things.“Ch’, specs fucks over everyone in this whole fucking war and everyone’s still got a fucking hard on for him. What about me, eh?” “What about you?” He kicked his shoes off as he heard her rustling around behind him. “You’re a dead nation and an asshole to boot.” He pulled out a faded woolen shirt from the top dresser drawer and threw it behind him chuckling at that one. Looks like he wasn’t the only one who still harbored a grudge. “I’m alive, ain’t I? The royal family’s alive. S’all that matters right now. Yeah fine, fuck world conquest, fuck that little bitch, and fuck you. I’m a helluva lot stronger than you ever thought I’d be bitch, so why don’t you shut up and put that on cause the last thing I want to see is your tits flopping all over the place.” He changed into a loose fitting pair of pants and could hear her behind him muttering something and as she was silent and he turned the small envelope caught him square in the face.He looked down at the plan unmarked paper and yet somehow he already knew who it was from.“I don’t want this shit.” Hungary adjusted the long shirt and there was something about the odd shapelessness of the garment that made him remember the days when he still thought that she was a he and when she turned around there was an odd feeling in his stomach he looked quickly back down at the envelope. “Read it or burn it. I don’t care and since you know who it’s from you know why I don’t care.” Her voice was soft and bitter and when she asked him for a ribbon he turned the envelope over and dug some spare set of shoelaces from the nightstand. It was far easier to talk once Hungary had pulled her hair back and there was a small tension that relaxed in his shoulders.“This ain’t the Bayerischer hof, asshole, and what kinda bellhop do I look like?” He set them down and ignored her as she left to the bathroom saying she was going to wash her face.It was simple and he knew the elegant script. Prussia stared at the line as he took a seat on the bed absently flicking ash into the cigarette wondering what on earth it was supposed to mean and he searched and thought about all the things he’d indexed in his brain over the years but for now he couldn’t guess at it. He frowned, turning the paper over before folding it back and carefully putting the envelope away. Leave it to a fucking woman to speak in such nonsense, he thought as he took the iron cross around his neck in his hand and kissed the slightly warm metal out of habit. So this was what it was like to be one of the highest stars in heaven, was it? Was it to be separated, to be isolated, to be held on a pedestal beyond human reach and human contact? Was that what it truly meant to be a god? And he looked down at his own hands which were still so young until he turned them over and saw the scars on the back and he traced his thumb over the deepest one running nearly parallel to the darkest vein. So she had made her decision too, had she? He felt the weight on the bed and swore to himself ‘cause he really didn’t think he’d been sitting on the bed that long. Hungary didn’t say anything for awhile and for that he was thankful. He might never be friends with the woman she’d become but as for the man she once fancied herself...“You’re an idiot Gilbert.” And somehow even the affectation of her voice was different now and it made it easier to look at her with familiarity. “Yeah well you’re here in this shithole right along with me so I don’t wanna fucking hear it.” He took another drag, deeply, feeling the sharp sting to his throat even after all these years and it made him close his eyes and savor it.“Feliks is waiting for me, you know.” She offered as she settled in and he supposed she’d at least be here the night. She didn’t ask to lay with him but it wasn’t as if the two of them had never shared a bed before as comrades.“Yeah, figures,” was all he said before putting out the half smoked cigarette and turning off the light next to the bed. “So aren’t you supposed to be here making nice with Ivan the Terrible? He probably fucking broke Raivis again and I’m sure you’re a lot more used to enemy dick anyway.” He could feel her shrug and it felt oddly nice to be next to someone warm and familiar in the middle of all this mess.“We all did what we had to do. You know I’ve never completely trusted Roderich and I was right, wasn’t I?” And he couldn’t help but smile at that because it was nice having her on her knees in front of him when they gave it to the bitch for betraying them. Fucking Eichmann turned out to be good for something after all.“So you broke in Alfred real good, huh?” She laughed at that and looked at him looking far more like her younger self in the darkness. “If you think I’m gonna give you all the details about ‘enemy dick’, asshole you’ll just have to get your own hands dirty.” And she held up a hand before he could protest, a finger to his lips and a wicked smile that came with all the secrets they used to share.“Ahh but Elizaveta Hedervary is a lady and doesn’t do things like that.” He didn’t know why that made him feel a strange sense of relief but it did as did her touch. But he couldn’t read her, he hadn’t been able to do that in centuries and he was about to swat her hand away when she moved it on her own. “But as for me well...” She looked at him with an intensity that was unnerving, looking at his hair, reaching out, brushing bangs to the side. “But if Elizaveta Hedervary really was a man...” “I’m not a fucking queer...” he answered automatically making no move to move her hand.“No... no you wouldn’t be, would you? But let’s say, Gil... let’s say for the sake of dead dreams and fallen gods... that I do you a kindness you’d never do for me.” She let her fingers trail down his neck, over his shoulder and down his bicep eyes following her own path, never looking him full in the face.“Let’s say then, old friend, that for tonight…”She pulled her hand back looking at him, through him, wherever the fuck she was looking cause he didn’t look away from her for a second. “Doubt thou the starts are fire. Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar. But never doubt that I…” She looked over at the large wooden armoire as if he were no longer there speaking so softly it was as if she were mouthing the words. “…that I love.”And he thought of the letter just as she trailed off with an oddly bitter twist to her mouth. Her eyes fell shut as if in sleep or death and he thought of the screams and of Russia down the hall and wondered if this was hell. And he didn’t know why it was he that leaned in until he didn’t know where his breath ended and hers began and he didn’t let himself wonder about what ifs and only considered the words. ‘But never doubt that I love... ‘And he heard Russia again and let his head rest against her forehead and wonder if she knew there was more than one way to read that damn line.
He almost expects to see fucking Hungary again but no Russia did say after all that he was expecting Lithuania. And Russia hasn’t taken his eyes off of the woman on the couch and yet she seems accustomed to the discomfiting stare. He leans in and whispers something to her softly in Russian that Prussia barely hears; he doesn’t try and understand it. He walks slowly- further into the room with a curious expression. Fuck, shit around here just keeps getting weirder and weirder.
“So Ivan, if you have a fucking bed warmer already...”“Natalya won’t be staying,” Russia answers, his hands reaching up and ghosting over her skin as if she might disappear from too strong a touch. The girls responds to the name as if it were truly her own. “If Liet isn’t here to watch... it’s not any fun,” he says mostly to himself. Prussia quirks an eyebrow but remains silent; he’s learned to pick and choose his battles where Russia is concerned.While Russia trails his lips over the girl’s hair showing no sign of sending her home soon, Prussia decides he might as well keep busy until the other is actually ready to go to bed. The novel he’d begun last week still sits on the nightstand next to the massive bed when he enters Russia’s adjoining bedchamber. There’s something he finds unnerving about that even as he picks up the old hardcover, fingers carefully running along the priceless first edition copy signed by Dostoevsky himself. “The House of the Dead” called to him at first merely by its title but he finds the descriptions to be personally haunting. He settles down on the bed, legs crossed, propped on a pillow leaning back against the ornately carved headboard and begins reading. Learning the language had come easily to him as it always had, but he still pretends to finds it easier to pretend his audio understanding is poor. They always underestimate his intellect, and as he reads, engrossed in the novel, his mind compartmentalizes, an entirely different series of impulses firing off as he debates the best way to get that four eyed egghead back for tonight. Something juvenile... something completely expected, executed in such a manner that he won’t. It makes Prussia smile even as the doors open and close and the heavy boots fall on the hard floor. A glance to the wall clock reveals that it’s barely been twenty minutes.He looks up over the edges of the novel as Russia sits on the edge of the bed and leans forward to unlace his boots. Prussia has no idea how his pupils dilate slightly as he watches the movement of those broad shoulders. “Y’know, Ivan,” he begins, book already forgotten, “if I was paying for it, I sure as hell woulda taken my damn time.” Russia doesn’t look at him as he toes the boots off and removes the heavy sweater.“She isn’t a whore.”“You gonna tell me that was your sister? ‘Cause there’s no way in hell that crazy bitch- Christ!” He throws himself to the side the old reflexes still solid. The headboard cracks with the impact of the hard boot and Prussia hits the floor with a curse. Russia’s face is already hovering over the edge of the bed, that damn creepy smile pasted on.“Rule number three, remember?” Before he can acknowledge the “Belarus is a sweet girl not a crazy bitch rule”, Russia is already going back to his task of changing for the evening and Prussia sets about righting himself and retrieving the book. He’s annoyed enough to debate having a go at the big bastard but stops and watches as Russia removes the white undershirt showing a seemingly endless expanse of scarred, pale skin. The scarf stays on and Latvia swears that Russia can’t remove it without his head falling off. But Prussia is finding out the three Baltics- or the three little sissies as he calls them- are damn good at lies and misdirection.Prussia brings the book back up as he resettles himself and his eyes unconsciously fall over the edge of the cover to watch as Russia stands and unbuttons his pants. America made some sort of obnoxious dig about his weight during one of the meetings they had after the war, but seeing the half-naked form, it’s clear that America’s never seen him undressed. Russia is nothing but raw muscle and power and Prussia can almost believe Lithuania’s whispered declaration that he likes to wrestle fucking bears for fun. Those arms are damn strong. The fucker almost broke his spine the last time he suplexed him on the hard floor. Prussia’s eyes don’t leave his body as he pads gracefully across the floor to the large mahogany chest of drawers and rifles through it for the pajamas that his older sister had given him last Christmas. Prussia shifts on the bed where he sits as Russia bends at the waist to open the bottom drawer and the white briefs stretch, pull taut over his ass and Prussia wonders absently if the bastard ever fucks the other members of the house. “So how are you finding it?” Russia asks suddenly as he turns around and Prussia violently wrenches his eyes away from their staring.“I wasn’t fucking looking at you, asshole!” he answers furiously and Russia shoots him that damn fucking knowing expression deliberately delaying in putting the flannel on.“I meant the book, Gilbert, but if you’d like to “not look” a little more, I can wait.” Prussia fights down the urge to lunge at him, practically slamming down the volume with a snarl. “Fuck you, pervert, put your fucking clothes on. I told you already I’m not a-”“I know,” Russia interrupts far too calmly as he slides the top over his shoulders. “You’re a man’s man, yes?” And the sonofabitch is deliberately baiting him when he runs his large hands over his hard pectorals while buttoning the fucking thing up. “You don’t look over the edges of a book with lust in your eyes when I-”“Shut the fuck up!”Those damn violet eyes taunt him and he lays back looking at the ceiling furiously.“You never did answer my fucking question, Ivan. Who the hell was that girl if she wasn’t a whore? ‘Cause she looked like Natalya’s fucking twin.” The mystery gives him something to refocus his attention on but he’s already playing back Russia’s mysterious comment about Lithuania his thoughts scattering to every odd little piece of this entire scenario. “And what did you mean it’s not any fun without Toris here?” Prussia hates this damn house. He hates the lies, he hates the fucking secrets and most of all he hates having to lay here next to Russia ‘cause the stunted motherfucker can’t sleep by his fucking self.Fully clothed, Russia lays back next to him his arms behind his head as he joins in the imaginary stargazing. The paint is peeling off of the high ceiling and it looks as if the sky is falling. He hears Russia’s steady breathing and for a moment he thinks perhaps that the other’s fallen asleep. The dim lamplight is still on and Prussia’s about to turn it off so the shadows will stop casting on the tapestried walls when he hears Russia speaking softly.“Svetlana is a girl who I met in Leningrad after her parents were taken…” he trails off sadly and Prussia hears him take a deep breath. “Well, you remember what it was like ten years ago.”
Christ, has it been that long already? Oh yeah, he definitely remembers. It’s hard to forget waiting in fucking line for a damn loaf of bread and that was even with the few privileges they’d been afforded above the rest. Yeah everyone was equal- some were just a little more equal than others.“She was only seven then. She reminded me of Natalya… and she knew right away who I was so I took her back with me and found a place for her to live.” He shifts and his voice is strained. “She visits sometimes… she used to call me brother… and two years ago she kissed me very much not like a brother.” His voice trembles and somehow Prussia can even sense the other’s hands trembling as well.“You’re a real prince, y’know that, Ivan?” He snorts and rolls over, back to the larger nation. “I’m surprised you waited that long.” Russia is tense and his voice is strained, he sounds almost as if he can’t breath. Prussia doesn’t see him close his eyes and try desperately to hold on to a memory that he wishes he could bury. “That’s funny- you moralizing to me. I know if I ask you Gilbert, you won’t tell me the truth... you don’t lie much to others but you lie to yourself so much you don’t even realize it. But I know that you know... what it feels like to lay with one who is like yourself.” He speaks in riddles, and in that moment it occurs to Prussia that there really is no safe haven where every wall has ears and every shadow has eyes.“I told you fuckers when you tried to crucify us at Nuremburg that shit isn’t any of your fucking business,” he answers tersely feeling as if time has somehow stopped. “And I told you that even if you string the lot of us up and let us watch each other burn I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction, so don’t you dare lay there and act like-”“Like one who also knows... I have a lot of scars, Gilbert. Some are from war and others… what did you say… none of your fucking business, right?” He plays with the doll.“What?!” He sits up ramrod straight and looks over to where Russia has his eyes focused intently on the doll. “It’s too dangerous, Gilbert. You know that now. And you know if they ever dare suspect...” he doesn’t finish the sentence. Some horrors are best left unspoken so they can die out in the dark. “And yet... I know that you know... that once you taste that... once you eat from that forbidden tree, that everything else tastes like dirt and turns to ash in your mouth.”Russia turns away from him then leaving him to continue to map the heavens on the decaying ceiling. His sleeping body will cling to Prussia desperately in slumber but for now he faces the wall and speaks softly in the hallowed silence. “Toris will never have my sister. I’ll never let him forget that. Whatever it takes to make him stop wanting, I’ll do it. BUt you would do well to remember too, Gilbert. If I can’t have what I want- then no one can.”Prussia snorts. “…real fucking prince…” he mutters again but then he thinks oddly of North Italy in that moment hanging all over his brother’s dick without him there and his chest does an odd double thump. He thinks of the night that Spain wed Austria in that ridiculously overdone ceremony he had to watch and he swallows a lump of bile as that traitorous sonofabitch later fastened that necklace around her neck as a wedding gift. He fingers the iron cross around his own neck absently. Russia doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Russia might be some sick sister loving sinner but he’s not- He almost jumps out of his skin when he realizes that Russia has actually turned back to face him. He blinks and stares and Russia merely stares back as if searching for something. “Do you fear the fire… Gilbert?” He whispers softly, childlike, and Prussia hears more than feels the wind blowing the loose shutters through the broken out hastily repaired glass of the window. He doesn’t answer him exactly, just watching and waiting and Russia seems to be staring at the cross now.Prussia looks away with a curse as he lets go of it. Fucking creepy...“Like I’m gonna answer your stupid-”“You shouldn’t.” And now it’s Prussia’s turn to face violently away because he doesn’t hear this. He doesn’t hear this and doesn’t think about it because he hasn’t done a fucking thing wrong.“Dammit Ivan, go to fucking sleep already,” he whispers wondering why the hell his voice is trembling. Fucking Baltic states and their cheating… Prussia tenses when he hears Russia again straining to hear in spite of himself. “The fire...death... is nothing compared to the never ending winter.”Notes: The song Russia sings is an old lullaby that translates as:Baby, baby, rock-a-bye
On the edge you mustn't lie
Or the little grey wolf will come
And will nip you on the tum,
Tug you off into the wood
Underneath the willow-root.
The Bayerischer Hof is a luxury hotel in Munich. In 1924 it was the largest hotel in Europe.Eichmann refers to Adolph Eichmann, a prominent Nazi SS lieutenant colonel who was responsible for (among many other things) the deportation and extermination of Hungary’s jewish population. His trial in 1962 cemented the concept of the “desk murderer”.Dostoevksy was a famous Russian author more known for “Crime and Punishment” and “The Brothers Karamazov” than the book in question. “The House of the Dead” is about a man sentenced to serve ten years hard labor in Siberia and describes a great spiritual reawakening.“Ten years ago” refers to the period in Russian History when Stalin was still alive and ruling the then Soviet Union.While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.
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