Armour clinked together as two soldiers forced a third unto the ground; kneeling before a fourth man. Blood red uniform accented with gold; white sash crossing over his chest; right shoulder down to left hip. Blonde hair; thick brows. Green eyes, glaring daggers at the ash blonde man kneeling before him.
"Do you surrender?" Teeth gritted together; lavender eyes narrowed as they looked up at the Englishman.
"пошел на хуй, вы английски свинья!" (fuck you, you English pig!) Came a gruff response in a harsh Russian dialogue. The Russian spat at the Englishman's shoes, earning a swift boot to the stomach, causing him to slump forward in pain. He let out a long hiss as a heavy boot pressed against his skull, driving his face into the cold stones that made up the floor.
"What was that Russki?" the Englishman pressed his foot down harder again the ask blondes skull; his nose pressing painfully into the dirty stone. "Hmm? What was that?" He let out a soft hiss of pain, feeling blood trickle from his nose.
"Father, stop it. You're hurting him," The boot removed itself from his head; allowing the Russian to return to a kneeling position once more. A petite blonde boy hung off the Englishman's arm, his pale cheeks flushed. "Look, you broke his nose," the young blonde pouted, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket as he moved towards the Russian. Delicate fingers touched his cheek as the young man wiped the blood from his nose, smiling softly at him. "Better?" the Russian opened his mouth to response, but caused, watching as the British captain batted away the younger mans hand.
"Don't touch that dirty Russki Matthew," He growled out before turned to the two soldiers guarding the Russian. "Take him downstairs and put him in one of the cells. And don't give him anything either," the two lesser soldiers grabbed the Russian under the arms; standing him upright before walking him towards a set of stairs.
"Father! You can't do that!" Matthew cried. "He'll die if you don't give him anything!" Arthur turned to him; eyes narrowed in anger. "F-father.." Arthur turned to the younger man, putting his hands on both shoulders.
"Matthew. We have bigger problems to worry about then some stupid Russki. We have to keep them out of Sevastopol, and supplies are getting harder and harder to get to the soldier now and- Why the hell and I telling you? You have no interest in this. Fine. If it matters so much to you I will leave him in your care to keep alive," A smile lit Matthew's face and Arthur looked away, a frown on his face. "For now. But do not forget Matthew. That Russki is a prisoner of war and he will be treated as such,"
"Yes Father. I understand," Matthew gave him a small smile gracing his lips. "Thank you for being considerate," Matthew game him a small bow as he left; going towards the stairs where the two soldiers had taken the Russian.
Heels clicking on the stone floors, Matthew looked around for the soldiers watching over the Russian; he shivered as he looked around; pulling his tailcoat closer around his thin frame. "Hello?" he called out timidly; but received no response; only a few groans from some of the other prisoners. "Hello?" He went closer to one of the cells, looking in to see who was in it. A hand snaked though the bars, grabbing him by the wrist. He let out a cry; taking a step back. A man looked back at him; greasy brown hair, dirt caked his skin; smelling something horrid. "Let go!" he whimpered out, and the prisoner complied with his request.
"Prince, I thought you of him. My apologies," The man bowed and disappeared into the darkness of the cell.
"Wait.. did you see the guards bring in a man not long ago?" he asked, clutching to the bars, squinting into the darkness.
"With a man shouting in tongues, to the last cell," came a quick response from the dark, voice low. Matthew nodded, a small smile on his lips.
"Thank you. I will bring you a treat tomorrow, for your help,"
"M'lord, you are gods gift to earth," Matthew let his fingers drift from the bars of the cell door as he moved onward to the end of the prison; towards the only cell with a solid metal door. One guard stood beside the entrance; the other no wheres in side. A muffled sound echoed around them and Matthew frowned.
"Where is John?" Matthew asked, looking at the guard.
"He's with the prisoner," came the guards quick response.
"Open the door. Father has granted me care over this prisoner," Matthew said in a quiet voice. The guard looked at him; eyes boring into Matthew's. A loud bang echoed from the room. "Open the Door George," The lock on the door clanged loudly as it slid open and the thick metal door groaned loudly as George pushed it open.
"Stupid bloody Red!" a leg swung towards the Russian; shackled to the wall with thick chains of iron clasped around his wrists, unable to ward off the attack. The Russian spat out blood as it dripped from his pale red lips. "Weak little fucker aren't you?"
"John! Stop!" Matthew yelled as the elder man raised his fist. "What do you think you are doing?" Matthew growled out; a frown covering his face. "Get out! I don't even want to hear your excuses. George, get me a wash basin and some cloths,"
"Y-yes m'lord," George disappeared from sight and John; not too far behind. Matthew turned his attention back to the Russian in front of him; his expression softening.
"I'm going to take this armour off you okay?"
"да" Matthew smiled softly, and stepped closer to the Russian. He unlocked the lock connecting the two iron cuffs together, then began removing the steel slabs that made up the Russian armour. After the armour was removed the Russian was simply dressed in brown pants and a beige shirt. Matthew went over to the basin and dipped a cloth into the warm water before ringing it out and walking back over to the ash haired man. Dark eyes glared up at the blonde as he took the cloth in one hand and his chin in the other and gently began to wash away the blood and grime.
"Sorry about John. He's a jackass. Takes a little too much love in his job. But you'll be in my care until Father knows what he's going to do with you. I'm Matthew, by the way," he chatted to the non-responsive Russian. "Can you tell me your name?" he paused for a moment; brushing some hair out of his eyes. "Who?"
"Ivan," rolled the thick Russian accent and Matthew shivered. Ivan stood abruptly, and Matthew fell back against the stoney floor, wincing as he scraped his arm.
"Ow," he whined, sitting up, rubbing his arm. "You could be nicer you know," Matthew frowned. "What am I thinking. You don't understand me anyways,"
"Vhy, vould I speak vith you, a English harlot?" came a accented response. "Go and please that pig you call "Father," Matthew gaped at him as he pushed himself into a standing position.
"You speak English? How come -"
"Get out of my sight you English sow," Ivan gritted out, eyes narrowed, arms crossed over his chest. "I would prefer to die in solitude," A resounded slap echoed though the cell; blood rose to Ivan's cheek in which had been slapped.
"I'm not English, and I'm not a sow or a harlot! I'm trying to make this as comfortable as I can for you; unless you rather starve to death like my father wants, you prick!" the Russian's eyes narrowed into slits as he stepped forward towards Matthew, who stepped back, eyes wide as Ivan stared him down with a deadly glare. A few steps and Matthew's back was pressed against the wall, Ivan towering over him. Ivan's thick fingers brushed against his neck. Matthew looked up at him; violet eyes wide in fear.
"Не стоит даже время. " (Not even worth my time) Ivan murmured, squeezing down tightly on Matthew's windpipe before releasing him; turned and sat against the stone wall. Matthew wheezed; trying to regain is breath; pupils dilated, eyes wide with fright.
"I-I..." he stuttered, scrambling to his feet, still gasping for breath. Thin body trembling, shaking, trying to calm his heart down and prevent himself from having a panic attach.
"Poor Matvey, so scared of big Russia," Ivan sneered at him, as he began to rise from the floor. "I vonder vhat you will do if I get aggressive with you. Call daddy perhaps?" Ivan's eyes narrowed. " может быть, вам стоит моего времени в конце концов," ( maybe you are worth my time after all)
"W-w-what?" Matthew whimpered softly, biting his lip as he tried to hide his shaking jaw. He took a few steps towards the door; tripping over the wash basin, water splashing over its sides as it tipped before settling back down.
"Are you attentive to all your father's prisoners like this?" Ivan growled out. Matthew flushed.
"I-I'll b-be back l-later with d-dinner," he squeaked out before quickly knocking on the door. It creaked open and the blonde slipped out before it shut
Ivan left out an annoyed sigh as he began to pace in his confined space, growling in Russian under his breath.Captured he though sourly, tugging at his collar. But little Matvey... Very interesting.
Matthew made his ways though the long corridors in search of his rooms. He still felt sick to his stomach over his visit with the Russian prisoner, Ivan. He wasn't sure what came over him; caused him to go against his 'father' and want to take care of some prisoner. He never had done this before. The colour rose to his cheeks as he entered his rooms, the ash blonde man's handsome face fresh in his mind. He closed the door and leaned against the dark wood for a moment before moving; over to his bed; face first into his pillows with a dramatic sigh. After a moment he turned over onto his back, looking up at his canopy. His fingers brushed against his neck, the feeling of Ivan's tight grip lingering. A soft whimper left his lips as he felt a shiver run down his body. It had been a long time since he felt this way about anyone. His obsession with his Papa's friend Gilbert had long since passed. It had been so short lived. The albino had left in a whisper of white robes and then his Papa had sent him to live with his father. Matthew wiggled around, pushing the blankets out from under himself and crawling into their warmth. His hands, together by his head, but his mind elsewhere.
"Master Matthew, are you awake? It is time for your evening meal," the soft voice of a servant came though the bedroom door, and Matthew groaned.
"Yes Anne, I'm awake. Thank you for waking me," he called out to her from the bed. He could hear the soft clicks of her heels against the floor as she walked away. Matthew pushed back his blankets and sat up. He shook his head as he got out of bed and walked towards the en-suite bathroom to brush his head and freshen up before dinner.
After releaving himself and combing though his snarly hair, Matthew glanced at himself in the tall mirror on the way out of the bathroom. Dark purple bruises imprinted on his neck like ink on paper from where Ivan had pressed down on him. He bit his lip frowning, unsure of what he could wear to cover up the marks. Surely his father would forbid his visits with the Russian because of this, if he found out. He barely knew the man and he already did not want to cut their meetings short. He walked back into his room and made his way over to his wardrobe, opening the large drawers. He looked outside to the window on his left. He shivered at the flakes of snow that fluttered in the air and grabbed a thin scarf, given to him by his Papa, Francis; showing off his french heritage with blue, white and red stripes.
"What in bloody hell is that around your neck?" Arthur growled at him as he entered the dining room. Arthur's eyes burned into him as he made his way to the table and sat down.
"I-It's a scarf father," he replied in a small voice.
"Rubbing in that frog, are you?" Arthur shook his head and waved Matthew off with his hand. "Whatever it may be. Sit down and eat up," he commanded. Matthew nodded and sat down, the entire dinner awkward and silent. After he had finished his soup, Matthew stood, and began clearing away his dishes, pausing only as Arthur's glare burned into him. "That is the servant's job Matthew," Matthew set the bowl back down on the table with a sigh.
"I am going to bring something down to the Russian prisoner," he said softly, turning towards the kitchen and avoiding the statement his father had made. "I will be back shortly," Matthew walked to the kitchen and looked around. He grabbed some bread and cheese from the cupboard, and a knife from the butchers box before cutting and slicing them into cubes and bread slices. He grabbed a few pieces of meat that had been left over from supper and put everything on a plate, along with some crackers. He glanced over at the wine rack to his left, selecting a bottle of red wine that Francis had sent him a few months back. He paused, looking back at the rack. If Arthur knew he was spoiling a prisoner then he would get punished. Matthew flushed; shaking his head. He gathered up the items for the meal and headed out to the basement where the prisoners were held.
Matthew shivered as he descended down onto the basement. He paused at the cell of the man who had helped him earlier when he had first came down and gave him a piece of the leftover meat.
"Many thanks, M'lord, many thanks," the prisoner thanked Matthew before retreating into the darkness of his cell; devouring the small piece of meat.
"George, having a good shift?" Matthew asked the guard as he got closer to Ivan's cell. "Can you open the door for me?"
"Ah; yes, good m'lord, and yes, I certainly can," He replied with a quick bow, and moved to open the door. "Just knock when you are finished and I will open the door,"
"Thank you," Matthew replied with a shy smile, nodding his head as George moved out of his way so he could enter the cell. "Ivan," Matthew called out as the door shut behind him. The cell was rather dark and he almost wished for a candle to brighten it up some. "I have brought you something to eat. I made most of it myself, so you don't have to worry about it tasting bad," When he got no response back from the Russian; he let out a soft sigh and placed the tray and the wine bottle down by the door. "Hmm. Well I'll just leave it by the door," he said, mostly to himself as he turned to knock on the door to have George open it.
An arm wrapped itself around his waist, another moved and a hand covered his mouth. "How sweet, you came back," came a hiss in his ear. Matthew stiffened; his heart pounding in his chest. Ivan's hot breath brushing against the back of his neck; his body pressed against his. "Did I scare you немного подсолнечного? (little sunflower?)" a throaty laugh left Ivan as he released Matthew from his hold.
Matthew's whimper did not go unnoticed. "Such a small, fragile country. No wonder you live with England. I can only imagine how you must feel to compete with Amerika," he hissed out. "How does your 'father' feel about this tryst?" He laughs at Matthew's red faced, sputtering reaction.
"W-what are you talking about?" he sputters out, stepping back from Ivan. "This is not a...a t-tryst!" he turns to walk to the door but Ivan reaches out, grabbing his wrist. Matthew let out a yelp; Ivan's grip crushing his bones together. He pulled Matthew towards him, chains rattling at the movement; Matthew's thin frame against Ivan's larger one.
"Vhy would you help me? Go against your father's command and help a enemy?" he paused for a moment, giving room for the younger man to reply. After a moment with nothing but a shaky breath, he continued. "Obviously there is something about me that has you-" he pressed a hand to Matthew's chest, pressing him against himself. "Feel something," Matthew went rigid against him, before clawing at his hand, pushing away from him.
"N-nothing!" Matthew gasped out as Ivan dug his fingers painfully into Matthew's stomach. "It's-"
"I think it's affection, perhaps, since your father never pays attention to you and Francis-" there was a sharp intake of breath at Francis's name. "Abandoned you," Ivan' s right hand snaked up from it's place around Matthew and came to rest under his chin, pressing into his throat, turning his head towards Ivan at an awkward angle. "You want someone to pay attention to you," A whimper escaped Matthew as he tried to twist out of Ivan's hold, but Ivan's grip only tightened. Ivan yanked at the scarf around his throat, pulling it loose. His finger imprints still visible bruises from earlier.
"You don't care, do you?" Ivan asked, releasing him with a hard shove to the ground. " As long as someone acknowledges you," Matthew looks up it at, his eyes glassed over, near tears.
"Take care of me little Matvey. Let me use you while I am trapped and I will never abandon you," Ivan said in the softest voice he could muster. He sank to his knees, chains clanking together as he strained against them, the muscles in his arms bulging as he strained against them, reaching for Matthew.
"I- Yes. I-I'll take care of you," Soft fingers, tentatively reach towards Ivan, brushing against his cheekbones. A shy smile. Matthew's cheeks lightened up with a blush and he dropped his hand from Ivan's face.
"Come closer/little sunflower/" Ivan said, sitting back with his back against the cell wall. "Feed me," he says, gesturing to the tray of food Matthew had brought in with him. Matthew scampered over and got the tray, along with the wine and brought it close to Ivan.
Matthew pressed a piece of cheese to his lips and Ivan flicked his tongue out, pulling the tangy cube into his mouth, his stomach growling on impact. Matthew continued to feel him pieces of cheese and crackers, of meat and sips of wine, until everything was gone. Ivan licked at his lips, reddened with the wine. Matthew moved the tray away and just sat by Ivan, almost contented. He glanced down at the boy beside him, who's mauve eyes seemed to be avoiding his own, pressed the pads of his fingers to Matthew's cheek, turning his head so he could look into those frightened eyes. Matthew bit down on his bottom lip, casting his eyes downward, away from Ivan. He pressed his lips, rough and cracked, to Matthew's soft, rosy cheek.
"Ah Matvey, you are cute. Thank you for easing my hunger," Matthew let out a squeak and pushed him away, moving to stand and grabbed the tray and wine bottle.
"I-I need to g-go," Matthew shuddered out, quickly going to the door and knocking. George opened the door and with a quick glance towards Ivan, Matthew left.
Matthew collapsed onto his bed, face pressing into his plush pillows as he tried to sort his mind out. Why? Why had he agreed to let Ivan use him? Yes. It was true that Arthur never paid attention to him. It was true that Alfred was his favourite and got all the attention. And it was true that he felt that Francis had abandoned him. How could he feel anything else but. Being shipped off to England's house made him feel small. Even though he was bigger then England and Francis. Even Alfred for that matter. He turned over on his back and let out a long sigh as he reached over and picked up his polar bear Kumajiro he had been given from Francis. How did Ivan know Francis anyways? Who knew. He clutched at the bear tightly, rolling back unto his stomach. He still could nor believe that Ivan had kissed him. Even though it was just a kiss of thanks, on his cheek. He still felt shy and embarrassed by it. That had been the most affection he'd had in a long time. Matthew smiled softly to himself. Even if it was false affection to make Ivan's time as a prisoner more bearable. Matthew cast a glance towards the window. The darkness of the evening creeping into his room.