HAHA I'M FINALLY WRITING A USUK FIC. XD
So, hello, everyone! This is Lucky from Lucky-Angel135, bringing you this new ficcie. It's actually posted under Wilted Boquet of Lies on our profile, but yeah, I decided to change the name to Laments of A Caged Doll. It fits more. XD
Okay, pairings! USUK (DEFINATELY), PruHun, SpaRom, Franada, RuChi, DenNor, slight SwitLiech for now. Since the plot's still under development, I might add more. Remember something, guys. You have to be patent for the all of the pairings listed just then to show up~ And this is written completely Lucky-style. Anyone know what that means? How about a hint for you SLK fans?
I planned Yellow's arc. Yeah. XD
Oh, a final warning. This is a REALLY, REALLY ABSTRACT FIC. I'm just warning you guys to keep an open mind, especially later on. Some things are just not possible in real life, duh. XD I'll warn you guys when we get to the part where you'l have to be really accepting~
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. (Insert witty comment here.)
Once upon a time.
There was a girl.
The girl was very pretty...
But she was very lonely.
She had no one to play with. Her days were spent locked up in a magnificent cage that made her feel like she was not missing out in anything, when in reality, she was missing everything. Lifeless dolls were her only company—dolls that would do anything she wanted. The girl was used to not speaking, she didn't have any friends. She grew up around those emotionless models, and soon, in time, became equally blank.
This girl was broken.
But there was hope.
She had a brother.
Her brother was very smart. He felt very bad for his sister, knowing that she was different. She was special. She could make you re-live things, something that everyone would want to take from her. So he has to lock her up in the glass room, letting her to shine for everyone outside, but not allowing anyone to penetrate into the heart of the light.
The girl became more and more depressed. She didn't shine as brightly anymore. She wanted to see someone. Anyone. Even her brother never visited her anymore. She never died—she turned back the clock inside the cage so she would never age. Her dolls continued on with her, never perishing, but never living at the same time.
Her brother worked around the clock. He wanted to make something, anything, to amuse his sister in her perpetual prison. He made her toys that sang and chirped, but none of them captured her attention. Finally, he decided to give her what her favorite toy was. Dolls. Dolls can play with her. Dolls can laugh with her. Dolls, he decided, that had feelings, that had life. He worked to accomplish his goal, driving himself madly towards a point that other humans would consider to be impossible.
He began with trying to turn dolls into humans. He spent millions of his inheritance money on trying to animate the un-living. Nothing worked. The dolls stayed as they were, silent and still.
And then he tried turning humans into dolls.
The success was mind blowing.
With his successful group, he sent them to his sister, leaving another group as backup. However, after all this, the brother had spent too many days working on the Perfect Doll project. Without alerting his sister, he died.
The girl met the first Doll the next day.
He had walked up to the prison, something that no one had done in a very, very long time. He simply stood there for a while, staring at her curiously through the glass cage. She stared back. The girl hadn't seen anyone for the longest time. However, gathering her past memories, she could tell that he was beautiful. Beautiful to the point where she wondered if he was still human. They didn't exchange words. They simply stood there, staring at each other. And then the boy turned around and walked away.
The girl wanted to call after him, but her voice didn't work after centuries of no use.
The next day there were two of them. The girl wanted to invite them in, but no one could penetrate the cage.
The next day brought three more. The girl looked at them hungrily from her side of the glass, but couldn't reach them. This was the closest to humankind that she had been in decades. Her fingers were pressing against the glass, wishing desperately that somehow she could reach them.
Meanwhile, the Perfect Dolls stared at the girl. All five of them were all impossibly beautiful and moved like dancers—like the perfect species of humans. Suddenly, the first boy cracked a smile, pressing his hand against where the girl's hand was. He would have touched her if not for the glass between them. The girl began crying, wanting to talk to them so badly.
Then, he spoke.
"Would you like to be our friend?"
The girl was speechless. She immediately tried to make her voice work again, but it felt like sandpaper had been stuffed down her windpipe. Wheezing sounds of all varieties came out before she was finally able to push out with all her might, "P-P-Please."
The first boy, the boy with his hand on the glass, smiled.
The glass shards glimmered as they cascaded onto the ground. Suddenly the girl's hand was met by something warm and soft. Her eyes widened when she saw that her palm was touching the boy's. He simply smiled softly at her before sweeping her into a hug and stepping back into place with the others.
The girl looked, stunned, at the five boys in front of her. She forced herself to speak again. This time it was easier. "H-H-How did you break into my world?" she asked. The girl was not used to having company. She hid behind a doll, not knowing how to do anything else. The simple perfections of the boys were dazzling in itself.
"We came here because we were made for you," the first one said. And at once, all of her dolls disappeared, including the one that the girl had been hugging. She cried out with alarm, but the leader of the five Perfects shushed her. "Now, we will be your dolls."
From that moment on, the Perfect Dolls were inseparable from the girl. They played together. They cried together. They loved one another, and finally, the girl felt whole.
Elizavéta said the two words slowly and dramatically, both Peter and Ravis staring at her with wide eyes. They looked at her as she gently closed the book of fairy tales, which seemed to finally end their stupor. Peter actually jumped out of his bed, smiling broadly. "That was so cool, Lizzie! Where did you find that story? I never heard it before!"
Elizavéta chuckled, flicking Peter lightly on the nose before pushing him back down into his bed. "I found it in this flea market. It's a book of all of these Swiss fairy tales that someone really didn't seem to want." Elizavéta frowned down at the cover, rubbing her fingers along the torn binding.
"It looks really old," Ravis peeped up timidly from his covers. Elizavéta looked over, smiling at the other small boy. Ravis had his comforter pulled all the way up to his chin, which made him look smaller than usual. "Why would no one want it? It's such a nice book. And the cover's so pretty too."
"Well, for one, it's written in German." Elizavéta tucked a pouting Peter into his sheets, looking over her shoulder at Ravis. "Not many people can read German and translate it at the same time. I'm taking classes on it right now." She tweaked Peter's nose, making the boy squirm slightly. "Can youunderstand German, Petie?"
Peter seemed to sit up taller in his bed, jostling his covers again. "Of course I can," he said indignantly. "In fact, I'm taking classes too! Right now! In school! They're teaching German to us!"
Elizavéta laughed, passing the book of fairy tales to Ravis so he could look at the pictures. "Of course. And I suppose teaching German to a group of second graders would be an everyday occurrence now, right?"
"They're teaching the fifth graders Japanese," Peter said haughtily.
"I'm sure they are, sugar. Now will you stop jumping up like a jack-in-the-box? Your mom said to make sure that you guys get in bed at nine." Elizavéta leaned across Ravis's bed and pulled her IPod out of the dock, abruptly ending Sweet Dreams. Cries of protest immediately rose from Peter's bed, but Elizavéta raised her hand. "You're too young to listen to Beyoncé anyway."
Ravis offered the book back to Elizavéta, who took it. "But Ms. Lizzie, we listen to the Black Eyed Peas too."
"Well there's a parenting fail if I've ever seen one," Elizavéta laughed. "Tell you what. Mrs. and Mr. Galante don't get back until later, so why don't you guys sleep in the same bed for now." Peter jumped up with excitement. Elizavéta moved fast enough to set down the priceless book before the small boy tossed his arms around her.
"Can we? Really?" Elizavéta laughed.
"Yeah. And I seriously need a place to lie down. I've been working my butt off, trying to get these stupid biology papers written for school." She pried Peter's arms off of her waist and shooed him into Ravis's bed, which caused blankets and pillows to fly in the air as Peter made no hesitation in jumping into the other's covers. Elizavéta groaned at seeing the mess, falling backwards onto Peter's pillows and covering her eyes with an arm. "You two better fix that yourselves—I'm not getting up again."
"Yes, Ms. Lizzie," Ravis chirped. Elizavéta heard blankets shifting and some muffled giggles before everything was quiet once more. Of course, knowing that it was Ravis and Peter that she was babysitting, that silence was most certainly not to last. Elizavéta knew from personal experience that the best way to make Peter fall asleep is to knock him out with a baseball bat.
Though this time around, the disturbance didn't seem to come from either of the two. It happened to be the phone in Mr. and Mrs. Galante's room, ringing as if it was trying to save someone's life. Elizavéta groggily lifted her arm to look over at the two, who were staring at her with wide eyes. "Who wants to pick that up?" she asked.
"Not it!" Peter chirped immediately, ducking back into the covers. Ravis looked at him, at Elizavéta, who looked at him with raised eyebrows, and sighed. He gently slid out of the covers and padded out of the room in bare feet. Elizavéta could hear him walking down the hall and into his parents' room. Elizavéta frowned. Only a few people knew of the phone that Mrs. Galante kept in their bedroom. The calls made to there were usually business calls or calls of close family.
"Ravis Galante speaking, how may I help you?" Elizavéta heard the soft voice from down the hall advancing slowly towards them. She wished she could hear what was going on, but the phone in Ravis's bedroom was usually called only by his friends and had a different number than the phone that was in the master bedroom. "...Yes...Ms. Lizzie is here right now." Elizavéta shot up just as Peter sat up at the same time. Ravis stepped back into the room, looking very lost. He covered the speaker with a hand and looked at Elizavéta. "It's for you, Ms. Lizzie."
Elizavéta frowned but took the phone, pressing it to her ear, fully aware of the two little boys listening in. "Yes, this is Elizavéta Héderváry. Is there something I can do for you?" Elizavéta frowned when the only sound that responded to her question was some scuffling, a few mutters of, 'No, you say it!', 'I don't want to, you do it.', and 'It was your idea in the first place!' Finally, after hearing a sound that reminded Elizavéta vaguely of breaking glass, a slightly breathless and...British...voice answered.
"Er...I'm terribly sorry about the inconvenience of this call, Ms. Héderváry, but my...acquaintance here—" ("You take that back!") "—Was wondering if you might possibly have a book of German fairy tales, titled Tales in a Glass Cage? My very brilliant acquaintance here accidentally lost it in a local park some time ago. We were informed that the book traveled hands to a shop in the global traveling flea market." There were more scuffles as the English person that Elizavéta had appeared to been talking to was shoved away by another louder voice.
"I know this area code!" the new voice shouted through the phone lines. Elizavéta winced at the force of the yell. "You're in America, aren't you?"
"Yes," Elizavéta answered cautiously. "And I happen to have the very book." She glanced quickly at the worn volume resting on Ravis's bed-stand. "What did you want with it, exactly?"
The person that was now on the phone exhaled in a slightly irritable way. "Look, can you, like, ship the book to an address in...say some other country? That book belongs to someone...really, really important. I'll pay for it and all that, but I seriously need that book soon. Preferably in ten minuets." Elizavéta gagged on her spit the same time at the Briton in the background did.
"How unreasonable are you?" the voice in the background demanded. "It'll take ages for that book to get back to Switzerland from America!"
"Switzerland?" Elizavéta asked abruptly. "Are you serious? I can't just ship this book over to Switzerland! And besides, I like it too! I'm not handing it over that easily! If you want it, you'll have to come get it yourself!"
There was silence on the other end.
"Well then...Arthur, book some flights to Maryland."
Ravis wondered vaguely if all of the blood draining from your face was a bad thing. Elizavéta looked as pale as a whiteboard.
The other speaker, Arthur, blew up in the background. "You have got to be bloody insane! I'm not dragging my arse all the way to Maryland just to pick up a book! And besides, it's all your fault! Why am I coming along? I have no business in America! Just go by yourself, Alfred!"
The current speaker, Alfred, didn't even bother covering the receiver. "Well, it would be no fun if I went to America all by myself. I haven't been there in ages, you know that!"
"Get someone else to go for you!"
"Who?" Alfred demanded. Elizavéta felt faintly ignored.
"Gilbert! He needs to go do something productive for once! Send Gilbert over to America to pick up the bloody book!"
"No buts! I don't want you all the way in America and then have a massive McDonald's bill be shipped back here!"
"That only happened once, and even then, Vash payed for it all!"
"Did he look like a happy man when he payed for it?"
"Your question is answered," Arthur snapped. Elizavéta heard clicks as the phone changed hands again. This time Arthur was louder. Elizavéta heard a muffled thud, almost as if someone just fell. "Thank you for speaking to us, Ms. Héderváry. We'll send someone over immediately to pick up the book. Have a nice day."
Elizavéta stared at the phone in shock. Did that really just happen? The events had played out like a badly written comedy or soap opera. She looked over at Peter and Ravis, who had heard everything. "Do you squirts think they'll actually come?" she asked them. Peter's mouth was hanging open, Ravis's entire frame was shaking.
"I hope not," Ravis whispered. "They scared me. I don't want that scary flea market person to come. I heard something breaking in the background."
"I heard multiple things breaking in the background. Ms. Lizzie, you have to hide that book! If they really do come here, they'll take it from you! And you didn't even read us the entire thing yet!" Peter said fervently, his eyes constantly flickering to the tattered volume set on Ravis's bedside. "You need to go into hiding! Join the mafia! Get the FBI's attention!"
Elizavéta looked at him, surprised for a moment, before laughing and patting both boys on the head. "Aha, Peter, you're so dramatic! Nothing like that would happen in real life. Don't worry about them! They were probably just some prank callers that just looked up some random number in the phone book. And besides, if they really were from Sweden—"
"Switzerland," Ravis reminded.
"Sorry, Switzerland; they still wouldn't be able to find us in all of Maryland!"
"They knew my number," Ravis whispered, shaking. "And they knew you were here, Ms. Lizzie. I'm scared. Are they really going to come?"
Elizavéta bent down and pressed a kiss to Ravis's forehead. "No one's going to come after you, dear. I promise. I'll tell Mr. and Mrs. Galante about this phone call and everything's gonna be okay, Rav-Rah. You two just get some sleep, it's way past your bedtime. I promise I'll wake you up before Mr. and Mrs. Galante come back so you guys don't look like you do this every time I babysit."
"Okay, Ms. Lizzie," Ravis giggled, forgetting about the strange phone call. Peter grinned at his friend and tackled him. Elizavéta scowled.
"But if you guys keep on tousling the sheets like that I'll make you regret it!"
"The kid's got a point," Chelle said, sipping noisily on her straw. She tilted her cup slightly, trying to get the last drops of the banana milkshake into her mouth. Elizavéta waited patiently for her best friend to finish scavenging before the dark-haired girl sighed, put the cup down, and covered one of Elizavéta's hands with her own. "There are plenty of stalkers after hot girls like us these days. You better watch your back, gal."
Elizavéta sighed, stirring her strawberry milkshake with her free hand, looking out around the mall food court. The rest of their group of friends had dissipated to storm Bath and Body Works and
Sephoria in search of perfume for the school's winter dance. This year it would be an English sort of tea party theme, which the school was naturally going to blow itself up on. The girls would be wearing old dresses, the boys tailcoats, and classes would be canceled so the dance could be held in the morning, and everyone naturally had to go over their head to impress their dates. Elizavéta had found that her friends had been running around in panic for most of the morning.
"I don't want to pull a complete freak out though," she said, frowning down into a stubborn chunk of strawberry that clogged her straw. "I don't think it should be that serious. After all, all of this is just over one little book."
"Did you bring it?" Chelle pressed, drawing her hand back and leaning forward at the same time. She looked eager. Elizavéta hesitated, and then opened her purse and brought out the old book, laying it on the table between them. Chelle immediately snatched it up, her face falling when she saw it was written in German. "Well, I can see that this was well loved," she said, closing it again. "It looks so old, the binding's practically fallen off. What's it about?"
Elizavéta frowned at the volume, taking it into her arms. "I haven't finished it yet, but all the fairy tales seem to be connected. The first one was about a girl that had the ability to bend time." Chelle looked skeptic, but Elizavéta pressed on. "She was lonely, with only dolls to serve her company every day. Then her brother seemed to...mutate these humans and make them become 'as Perfect as the girl'," Elizavéta quoted, flipping to that page. "Then they lived happily ever after."
Chelle sighed, tossing her cup away in a nearby trash bin. "That sounds like your typical Snow White. What about the next one?"
Elizavéta hesitated. "See...this is where it gets interesting." Chelle leaned forward, inviting her to explain. "The second one...it's about another girl. A different one. She's the first girl's enemy, apparently. One day, she went to where the first girl lived and took everything away from her. The mutated humans that were 'Perfect' immediately took to the new girl, who taught them to turn away from the first girl. The first girl was angry. It ended with the 'Perfect' humans dying, and the new girl dying afterward."
Chelle's eyes widened. "That's less than pleasant."
"I know, right?" Elizavéta sighed, running her finger along the edge of a page. "The first girl had everything that she could have possibly wanted with those 'Perfect' humans. And then the new girl's appearance made the first girl kill her own 'Perfects'. She turned her own back against her closest friends. I can't imagine anyone trying to teach little children that moral."
"It must not be fairy tales then," Chelle said, frowning. She gently plucked the book from Elizavéta, turning the pages again. "Look at this. Everything looks like it was handwritten. And here." Elizavéta leaned forward, watching Chelle turn pages. They both paused when Chelle turned the page one more time, and nothing was on the back. "They stopped writing." Chelle looked up and met Elizavéta's green eyes. "Not mass produced material."
"We're talking about...a diary, then," Elizavéta said, her brows scrunching. "A...a journal. Why do you think those people might want it back then?"
"I thought you didn't believe that they'd actually come after you." Chelle's eyes sparkled with mirth. Elizavéta stared at her until she sighed, serious again. "It's probably important. Very important. That's usually the only reason people keep journals, right? Don't they just write down some important stuff that they don't want to forget?"
"Usually, I guess. But I don't know anyone that keeps journals anymore. It's usually just blogs these days. We live in the modern age, a few decades before the invention of the flying car."
Chelle laughed, rapping on the book. "That'd be something to see," she agreed, drumming her fingers on the table. "But I really don't think that those people who called you were safe, Liza. They even knew that you were babysitting the Galante's that day. I would watch my back."
"You've already told me that," Elizavéta said, forcing herself to laugh slightly. Chelle frowned and opened her mouth to argue before Elizavéta held up a finger. "Come on, girl, I know that they must be stalkers if they seriously called me at the Galante's. But still, what're the chances that some random people from Sweden would come and take the book away?"
"Switzerland," Chelle corrected, sighing. "And if I were you, Eli, I wouldn't only worry about the book. I'd be watching my own safety as well."
"Chelle-sy, I have a black belt in karate!" Elizavéta giggled. "I doubt that anyone would have that easy of an way with me. And even if they wanted to rape me, I know that I'm supposed to scream 'fire' and not 'rape'. Nothing's going to happen."
Chelle shook her head again, a frown on her face. "I have a reallybad feeling about this..." Elizavéta's lips pinched together in slight irritation. Was her bestie really that hard to convince? She already said she was fine, didn't she?
"How about this then," the Hungarian girl leaned forward and rapped lightly on the table between the two girls. "Why don't you sleep over for a week? If the Swedish people—"
"Yeah, them. If they show up in that time, you can help me fend them off! If they don't come until then, then we'll know that they're probably not going to come and you can go home knowing that I'm not going to disappear during the night! How does that sound?" Chelle looked at Elizavéta, knowing fully well that the girl was talking to her with the voice that she used when she was talking to the little kids that she babysat.
"...I'm staying for two weeks."
"One. Don't be so paranoid, Chelle."
"I'm not paranoid. I'm being reasonable. This are a group of pedophiles wanting to hunt you down, Lizzie. Two weeks."
"You don't have to stay at all. It's one week or nothing."
Chelle looked at her best friend with exasperation. "Don't you see I care about you? Why don't you ever listen? At one point, these people are going to break down your door, and all just for a book. I'm just trying to keep you safe, girl! A week and a half."
"And I've repeatedly told you, I can take care of myself! I'm a big girl, Chelle. I can stay home without getting killed. A week and a day." Elizavéta stuffed the book back into her purse, making Chelle wince with the force of her movements.
"Fine, a week and a day. Just...be careful with that, okay?" Elizavéta raised an eyebrow at this. "Well, everything's probably just going to get worse if you damage it in some way," Chelle stated, her brow furrowing with her vivid imagination. "They might get really mad at you...and then they might really hurt you. They might get so mad that they would just attack you instead of getting the book!"
Elizavéta merely stared at her friend with the faintest confusion. Since when did people just suddenly jump out of shadows and strangle you to death? "You need to cut back on the horror novels, Chelle. Nothing like that happens in real life."
"I'm worried about you, Lizzie," Chelle sniffed. "If you don't want to take my warning, then fine, you don't have to. Just don't blame me when those 'Perfects' come and break down your door." Elizavéta laughed out loud.
"Jesus, Chelle, no one's stupid enough to actually break down a door."
If Elizavéta had known that within a month, she would be staring at a pissed albino man standing where her door used to stand, she definitely would not have said those words.
"Your house is fucking impossible to find, you know that?" the man spat, running a hand through his already tousled hair. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week and had dark bags under his eyes. He also happened to be leaning against one of the pillars on the porch of Elizavéta's house, looking as if it wasn't anything special that he should be there. "And you're really smart to have a friend over for such a long time. You must've known that I would come. Damn Alfred and Arthur," he added the last bit in a murderous mutter.
Elizavéta was stunned. She stood there at the door, frozen in place in her tank top and boy shorts. After all, it was five in the morning. Not ten minuets after Elizavéta had kicked out Chelle. Oh how she regretted that decision now. "Y-Y-You..."
The man raised an eyebrow. "Struck speechless by my awesomeness, huh? Don't worry about it, dude, it happens all the time."
Elizavéta recovered. She drew herself up higher. "For your information, I'm not dude. I happen to be a girl."
"Well, I'm sor-ry," the man snorted, as if amused. "So, gal, would you happen to have a book that my fucking acquaintance happened to loose halfway across the world? It's called Tales in a Glass Cage, and I know you have it. I just asked to be polite. Cause you know I'm such a gentleman." The man rolled his eyes here as if he was indulging in some personal joke.
Elizavéta's eyes narrowed. "How are you so sure that I have it?"
"Because Lovino is never wrong," he said simply. Elizavéta waited for some explanation of what he just said, but nothing came. She realized that the ball had been passed back to her.
"And you expect me to just hand it over?"
"...You're Gilbert, right?"
The man's eyes instantly lit up. "Yeah! I knew my awesomeness was obvious from the start! Who else did you think it would be? Alfie? Artie? Naw, they wouldn't get their lazy asses off their bed."
"Their bed? As in singular form?!"
Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Pshaw. Duh. They're so fucking gay for each other that they share a bed. Nothing new at our house. Feliciano and Lovino sleep together, but that's just because they're twins. And Lovino—" Gilbert stopped abruptly, pursing his lips together. "Never mind. You don't have to worry about it. Just gimme the book."
At this point, Elizavéta's mind was going double-time. Ourhouse? Just what exactly was this place? What made it so special that two guys got to room with each other? Her mind flickered from Gilbert to the tattered book on her bedstand. What kind of place would send a single man halfway across the world to pick up some book? What kind of place would have people that could trace down a person? A small object in all of the world?
A spy agency, maybe? Where international boys of different nations came together, united through their similar beliefs? Elizavéta's unique mind started spinning. Chelle, although Elizavéta would often accuse her of being this, thought that Elizavéta was a very, very special sort of romanticist. She was the type that would parings would be the best, and had a very, very, verylarge variety of different shopping run-ins, mistaking someone's bed for another, and even intrusions in skinny-dipping. Her rabid fangirl ran in wild directions, and the prospect at seeing boys in an environment where they were allowed to sleep together...
"On one condition!" Elizavéta cried out suddenly, making Gilbert jump at the sheer volume of her voice. He also looked slightly wary when he saw the faintly maniacal glint in the girl's eyes. "I'm coming with you!"
Gilbert's attitude changed immediately. "What? Dude! No way!" Gilbert began making frantic motions with his hands, either telling her to back off or hand over the book so he could get the hell out of there. "No way are you going back to the psych mansion with me! The guys would flip!"
"I don't mind. I can share a room with someone, just like all of them," Elizavéta pressed stubbornly. "Or if you have an extra room, I can stay in there."
"Your parents! Your family!" Gilbert sounded vaguely like he was choking in his haste to persuade Elizavéta to not go back with him. His hand gestures increased their speed. Elizavéta's curiosity was permanently piqued. Why, exactly, was Gilbert so desperate for her to not go with him? "Your mom and dad would go batshit if you suddenly decided to go to Switzerland!"
"They wouldn't mind," Elizavéta said, setting her jaw. And it was true. Her parent's could care less if she decided to jump off the Eiffel Tower to commit suicide. "So, you can book another plane ticket for me, right?" Gilbert gagged on air.
"Hell no! You're not coming!"
Then why was a happy Elizavéta sitting next to a very pissed Gilbert on a first class airplane to Switzerland not a day later?
These things really do work out strange, unexpected ways, don't they?
XD Reviews work wonders on a starving authoress's soul, loves~