Author: Emma CS Me PM
...Or, if Nobody Wins, Who Writes History? It might be forgotten, but Belarus does have a reason for hating Lithuania. Trigger warning: kidnapping and false imprisonment, violence, stalking and sexual harassment, dubcon and general mindf-ckery. CompleteRated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Drama - Belarus & Lithuania - Chapters: 3 - Words: 14,494 - Reviews: 12 - Favs: 21 - Follows: 13 - Updated: 11-24-11 - Published: 04-26-11 - Status: Complete - id: 6941794
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Author's Notes: Written for this prompt on hetalia_kink: "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. " Note: strict historical accuracy is not what you're going to find here. Although there's enough I have to put notes down the bottom. It shall be divided into three parts, because... well, it would be too freaking long if I tried to make it one, not to mention I want reviews!
Trigger warnings: kidnapping and false imprisonment, violence, stalking and sexual harassment, later dubcon, and general mindfuckery .
Beloved (or, if Nobody Wins, Who Writes History?)
"Brother! Sister!" he whips her hair around her face as she tries to shake the snow out of it. "Fuck. Ivan! Katyusha! Where are you?"
She trips over a small rock and goes flailing with a cry. She does not fall, however, as a mysterious man catches her by the waist, keeping her upright and spinning her around to face him.
"...Who are you?" she asks. His eyes are a watery blue and his hair long and brown; she's never seen him before, and she forgets her manners (or what few she has) in the confusion.
"Toris," he says. "You?"
"I'm Natalya," she answers. "And, um... thank you, I guess. You can let me go now."
He's still gripping her waist, and looking up at the sky above. She struggles in his grasp. "Hey, didn't you hear me? Let go!"
"It's cold out here," he says, his nails suddenly digging into her hips, and she hisses in pain.
"I can handle it."
She tries to push him away, but it does is make him grip her by the arms instead of the waist. "Stop it, let me go!"
"Be reasonable, Natalya. You see this snow? Stay out here alone, a young girl like you could get in serious trouble."
She spits in his face. "Fuck you. I am not a young girl, and by the way, my brother and sister are here so I really don't need your help anyway, thanks."
"Then where are they?" he asks. She hesitates. "I heard you calling for them. You're lost, Natalya; you best come with me."
"Never," she insists. She struggles against his grasp again, and he just leans in closer.
"I know who you are," he whispers. "What you are. I'm just like you. And you're just a bit of territory whose rule has fallen apart; you need someone to take care of you."
Her eyes go wide when she realises she is being taken by another nation; she is being occupied, and she starts to panic. "Let me go! Brother, sister! Help! Where you, dammit?"
"Stop, Natalya!" Toris shakes her roughly, grasping her tighter around the arms. She struggles more and he finally lets go, but only long enough to reach towards her chest and push her down firmly.
She falls and hits her head on the same damn rock she tripped on to begin with, and suddenly all is black.
"What are you doing here?"
Lithuania's eyes light up when he sees her, rising to his feet. "Belarus!" He acts as if seeing her is like the sight of the sight after a millennium buried under the earth.
She keeps a reasonable distance.
"I asked a question."
He sighs, looking away sadly. "Russia has taken my land, I suppose. Again," he adds a slight smile. "I am now the Lithuanian Socialist Soviet Republic."
He seems frightened, and her heart starts to pound. It will be good to see him cowered, afraid, submissive again. She wants to see that bastard scared, dammit. But he will be scared in her house, so close he could touch her if he tried, and she thought she had escaped this.
Her fear consumes her until she realises she has forgotten to breath. Relax, she tells herself as she inhales deeply, trying not to hyperventilate. Big brother can keep him in line; you know that.
Lithuania does not seem to notice a thing. He always was wilfully blind. "So, if you have the time, would you... like to help me with my things?"
She tries not to gag at his innocent, schooboy crush smile. "I have work to do," she says, before running off into her brother's empty room and hiding under the bed.
When she wakes up, the first thing she says is "Ow."
She can tell she is lying on a bed; a rather comfortable one, too. Slowly, she opens her eyes. This room is unfamiliar to her, and she tries to comprehend the patterns on the ceiling through her pounding headache. Suddenly, there is a face above hers, which is familiar, but both barely and painfully so. "Hello," he says.
"Toris," she declares, trying to push herself up through with her hands. She suddenly realises they are cuffed to the sides of the bed – how did she not feel that? She feels woozy, and struggling against her restraints only makes it worse, so she has to give in. "Who are you? What do you want from me?"
He sighs, gently running his hand through her hair. She shudders. "I am the Duchy of Lithuania," he says. "And I want to take care of you."
"You are a pretentious kidnapping sack of shit," she tells him. "And I want to see my brother and sister."
"They're lost, Natalya," he says. "The best you can do is make the most of now."
She frowns and squirms against her restraints again, body brushing against the sheets. It feels odd, and she starts to notice something.
"...Hey... I'm naked, aren't I? ...You bastard, what did you do–"
"I had to strip you to put you to bed; your clothes were designed for walking in the cold, not very comfortable," he says, as if it were obvious. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't find any female nightclothes."
Her head pounds and she tries to think through it, but she's caught on the fact that this freak has kidnapped her and now she is fucking handcuffed and naked in some bed of his, and oh god–"
"I didn't do anything to you," he says, rolling his eyes at the look of disgust on her face. She wants to punch his skull in, but she can't because she is handcuffed to the fucking bed. "I'm not the type, Natalya, don't worry. You're safe with me."
She doesn't feel very safe, but when she thinks about it logically, she thinks he's probably telling the truth – if he had done something, she would probably be able to feel it. "You could have at least give me an old shirt or something," she grumbles.
He sighs. "Maybe later. Now come on, I brought you food." The restraints on her arms don't actually stop her from moving upward, when he slides an arm under her and pushes her up, much to her displeasure. "Ah!"
"What?" he asks, and she can't help but flush as the blanket falls away, revealing her breasts far too much. "Oh. Oh. Here." He takes his coat off, blushing a little himself before covering her with it.
She will not thank him. "Alright then. But if you want me to eat, you'll have to undo these handcuffs."
"And risk you escaping?" he asks.
"You're watching me in your bed, I have no idea where I am, and I'm stark naked; the chances of me actually making it out are low..."
"I'll feed you myself," he says, as if she had never spoken. She glares.
"Do you want to die?"
He laughs. "You're cute when you're angry," he says, dipping a spoon into a bowl of soup and raising it to her lips.
Reluctantly, she takes the soup into her mouth.
Long enough to spit it back out at him.
"What time is it? And you haven't made big brother's breakfast yet?" she yells, pushing past that quivering wreck of a boy to get at the food. Oh god, please don't let big brother be unhappy with me...
"No, actually, Miss Belarus," says the one with the glasses – Estonia? "We finished making his breakfast quite awhile ago, actually, and were now making our own. We're allowed to do that, right?"
She sighs. "Alright then. I suppose I will make my own food as well," she says.
"Um, Belarus?" comes Lithuania's voice, almost innocent. "I think I've made a bit too much dough, if you would like to...?"
Her stomach churns. She knows the taste of Lithuanian food.
"I'd rather make my own, thank you very much." It's something of a lie – she's completely lost her appetite.
She tries to escape again and again, so he chains her up, again and again. He must get off on it, the pervert. Still, true to his word, he hasn't touched her. And she actually has clothes now.
One day, he comes in with the key a lot earlier than she was expecting. "Yay, freedom," she says, and she's probably make some kind of gesture to express her sarcasm on the word 'freedom', but she's still handcuffed.
He sighs as he takes the cuffs and starts to unlock them (she shrinks back as far from him as possible). "I need you to write for me," he says.
"Why?" she asks. "Don't you know how to read and write?"
Toris looks away, sheepish. Oh, he... really doesn't.
"Uh... alright then," she said. He gives her such a grin she squirms. "I mean, you're a kidnapper, so I really should try and keep you somewhat happy in case you whip me or something. But don't think this means I'm okay with all this."
Toris just keeps smiling. "That's alright. I won't hurt you, just... do what you think is best."
His hand is coming up to cradle her face, and she brushes him off. "Could you not touch me?"
He obeys, raising his hands and surrender. She sighs and takes the ink and paper.
"What am I even meant to be writing, anyway?"
"Oh, my rules and stuff. Statutes, I guess." She raises an eyebrow, as she really doesn't have a clue what his rules are. "Don't worry, I'll talk you through it," he says.
"Alright then," she says. "What do you want me to write, specifically?"
He sighs. "Just start with a title, like..."
She starts to write something about a statute of Lithuania, and feels his hand close over hers. "What is it?" she says, annoyed and yanking her hand back. "Is that not good enough?"
"I have absolutely no idea what you're writing," he reminds her. "It's just – your handwriting looks very beautiful."
"...You're so creepy."
"...Why are you in my room?"
"Miss Belarus!" he turns around, shocked. "Oh, uh, Russia sent me up here to clean. He said you had too much work to do."
She crosses her arms over herself defensively. "Big brother wouldn't do that," she says. "You have no right to be here; get out!"
"...Alright, but I'll have to hide from Russia – he doesn't like being disobeyed."
She snorts at his attempts to deceive her – then takes note of the fact he is wearing an apron, of all things, so either he's telling the truth or anticipated the fact she might catch him. She doesn't want to think about it anymore, so she shakes her head and gestures toward the door.
He stands up and makes his way out, and when he's no longer obstructing her view she sees the pile of letters lying on her desk, open for all the world to see. She raises a hand to her mouth. "LITHUANIA!"
"Belarus?" he comes back, clearly hanging on her every word. She balls her fists.
"Did you find these? Read them?" She turns around to look at him, and he squirms uncomfortably.
"Well... yes, but, Belarus–"
"GET OUT! You have absolutely no right to read those, now leave before I chop off your testicles and make them into windowsill decorations!"
There's a pause. "He doesn't love you," Lithuania says quietly.
"Russia doesn't love you. He's terrified of you; he's admitted it more than once. He'll never love you the way you love him."
"The way he loves you, you mean?" she shoots back, before she collapses onto her desk chair, staring at the paper below – so many nights trying to find the perfect words for how she feels, knowing she'd never send them to Russia but nonetheless needing to let it out somehow. He knows nothing. Big brother does love you, and he will always protect you; he just doesn't understand things fully.
In the mirror, she sees Lithuania walking closer to her. She freezes as he lays a hand on her shoulder. "Not at all," he says. She tenses further. "Bela–"
She swings around and punches him in the face, hard.
The room becomes her own. Most of the time, she's not even chained up. He locks her bedroom door at night and has guards watch over her during the day, but still. She's not in anyway happy with her circumstances, but she supposes she can live with her possession. What choice does she have?
She dreams of her siblings. When they were – well, no, they weren't that close really. But they would together, and big sister promised she could protect her. Why didn't Katyusha protect her?
There is snow in her dreams. In her dreams, Ivan takes that scarf Katyusha gave him and gives it to Natalya instead. Brave, noble Ivan, who always wanted them all to be happy and together; he would do anything to keep that. Natalya misses him so badly, and just wishes he would hold her and tell her it's going to be okay, and that she will get out of here.
But the snow wins; it overpowers her siblings, and separates her from them. Those Mongol barbarians are looming in the background, and she runs, only to trip and land in the dark.
When she wakes up, she sees white across the room from her and panics that it's come for her here too. When her head clears a little, she realises she's inside and that makes absolutely no sense, not to mention the weather probably isn't capable of schemes and stalking.
Then she starts to wonder what that white actually is.
It's a suspicious patch on her chair, and she rolls herself off her side to get up and inspect it.
It doesn't take much thinking.
It's white (as she mentioned) and slimy; smells like sweat and something salty. She knows some facts of the world (even if she supposes she shouldn't), and she can tell what that is. What did he do...? She wants to be sick.
Belarus is trying to clean the upper wing of the house. None of them really go here, so she knows there's no real purpose to it, but maybe if she puts in the effort to take care of it anyway Big Brother will appreciate her dedication and stop building holes in the ceilings for him to hide in when he sees her coming. It's worth a try, at least.
She's taking a damp sponge to the dusty door which leads to the dustier attic that is mostly full of obsolete or overly-bloody weaponry, when she hears something from inside the room. A moan, low and languid, and smothered as if someone knows they're not meant to make sound.
With a frown, she presses her ear closer to the door to try and determine who this person is and whether or not they are a threat to her plan to impress Big Brother Russia. As the sounds get clearer, she hears a sharp "Oh!"
Her breath hitches. It sounds like – like Lithuania, that bastard, and that does not sound like a gasp of pain...
Her knees start to go weak and her stomach starts to churn; she has to dig her nails into the door simply to stay upright.
And then he starts chanting.
"Bela, Bela, Bela," he calls, loudly every time. "Bela. Bela, Bela, beautiful Bela, Bela, Bela, more, Bela."
She can't control it. Her legs give way and she sinks to the ground, slackjawed. And it doesn't stop; he just keeps calling for her, doing god knows what to himself to the thought of her, and she has to hold onto her legs for fear they might flee in sheer repulsion. Bile rises in her throat, she bites into her lip again and again, her whole body tremors. She does not cry, thank god. But she cannot force herself to move, letting the sounds of this disgusting pervert fill her brain until she feels like she's in a coma. She curls up, and hears.
The wetness from her sponge drips onto her dress.
Her chair is surprisingly heavy. It didn't look that sturdy. Nonetheless, she drags it with her, clenching her fingers on it when the rage and nausea gets too strong.
She finds Toris in the dining room, calmly biting into bread. She throws the chair to the floor, with a crash that makes him jump. "What the hell is this?"
"Natalya!" He wears his usual concerned and innocent face. "Are you okay?"
"No I'm not fucking okay!" she yells, and she raises her hands defensively when he steps toward her. "There is – fucking come on my chair, okay, and I don't just drag strange men back to my room, so it really should not be there, and – what did you do to me?"
He sighs, as if she is nothing more than a whining child. "Natalya, I didn't do anything to you."
"Well, sure as hell I wasn't responsible for–"
"Well, yes, I was responsible for that," he says. "But, as we agreed. I didn't touch you. You're just... beautiful, Natalya. It didn't seem so wrong, just to look at you and... I didn't think you'd even know. You were meant to be asleep."
Oh god, she really is going to throw up. "Are you crazy?" she asks, flailing around wildly. "I'm not just some – whore you can use to gratify yourself, okay? Even if you didn't touch me, it is not okay to be sneaking into my room in the middle of the night and using me as some kind of..."
"I don't really see how it makes a difference," he says flippantly, taking a step towards her. "I mean, the way I feel about you... It would have happened no matter where I was. Does it really change anything that I did it with more than my imagination?"
"Yes," she says.
She hesitates. She's right, she knows she is, but she's not sure how to answer that question. While she's trying to figure it out, she finds Toris has walked up to her and is now trying to raise a hand to her face gently. "Don't touch me!" she yells, pushing him away.
Toris frowns. Suddenly, he reaches forward and yanks on her hair, hard. "Ow!" she cries, but he keeps her still. When she looks up at him, she sees a smile that would be kind on anyone else.
"Natalya, if it hurts you so badly, I won't do it again." He caresses her cheek as he says this, and she shudders violently. "I only want you do be happy."
He kisses her on the forehead, and she almost does vomit. She represses it though, because as much as she would like to cover him with sick it would only anger him (and it would probably get all over her too). He doesn't notice anything, anyway.
"Stay right there," he says, finally letting her go. "I'll make you some breakfast."
He walks back into the kitchen, and she wipes at her eyes. She won't cry for him. Angry and frustrated, she kicks the chair she dragged her to the side before grabbing his breakfast and throwing it in the bin.
"Miss Belarus? What are you doing?" The two Baltics who aren't Lithuania have walked in, not that she bothers to make eye contact.
"I'm preparing lunch for brother Russia," she answers quickly, darting over to the other bench. "Leave me alone."
"I think that's actually our job," says Estonia.
"N-not to mention, it's only ten in the morning," says the other one – Latvia – the small one who's always shaking.
"Ten-oh-seven, to be specific."
She still doesn't look at them. "I want it to be ready early, alright? And other people will just ruin it. Go."
"Miss Belarus? Are you alright?"
She looks down, and finds her hands are starting to shake on the bowl. And the bowl's contents aren't proper food at all – a lumpy mess; brother Russia would never be impressed by that! "I..." Don't! You want to be good for Big Brother, remember? Make him care for you. Make him protect you.
Estonia sighs and steps forward. "How about you go sit down? We'll make lunch."
"No!" she shouts. "I – I have to take care of Big Brother, and this is his – him – job too, and I won't let him..."
Control this. Control me. Win my brother.
Estonia and Latvia seem very, very confused. "Belarus, you really, really should sit down," says Estonia.
"H-how about we make the lunch, and t-tell Russia you did?" suggests Latvia. "I – um – think you're not quite in the state for it."
She hesitates. She wants so badly to be able to do this for her brother, make things better for him so he'll never have any reason to leave her, but... She can't. Not now. She has no real reason to trust these two, but she decides to anyway.
"Alright," she says. "Just don't let your brother help if he shows up."
"He's not our brother," says Estonia.
"Why?" asks Latvia.
Belarus shakes her head. She won't respond to that. "Do you think there is something else Big Brother would want me to do?"
Estonia and Latvia share a look. "Um... you could try cleaning?" says Estonia.
Bela, Bela, beautiful Bela, Bela, Bela, more, Bela.
The two look at each other again. Idiots, they don't understand anything. "Miss Belarus, you're – you're shaking again."
The spatula in her hand is quivering and getting bits of dough on her. She tosses it aside. "Well, start then," she says before storming out.
Historical Notes: In the 13th Century, the Kievan Rus fell apart thanks to various incursions from Central Asia (most notably, the invasion of the Mongols), and the land comprising modern-day Belarus (and the Belarusians who lived there) were taken by the Grand Duchy of Lithuania thanks to a combination of military conquest and dynastic marriages.
The Lithuanian people didn't actually have their own written language at that point; they used the Ruthenian language (predecessor to modern day Ukrainian and Belarusian) until it was later replaced by Polish. The three Statutes of Lithuania are written in Ruthenian.