SamiFire (sami_fire) wrote in hetalia,

[Fan Fiction] In Remembrance I Relive [5/?]

Part 5! Upon looking the fic over, I think this may actually approach 10 parts. In fact, it might even be longer than that. O_o Wow. (Something like that... still not awake enough to do the calculations, really. X'D) I think part 6 should be up in another two days. Well, read, give feedback, and enjoy!

Title: In Remembrance I Relive
Author/Artist: Sami-Fire (Me!)
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Prussia, Germany (not in this chapter), Russia (Finally!)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Clusters of foul language and allusions to rape (A little in this chapter, but not quite so strong). Also, AAAAAAAAAAANNNNNGGGGSSSSTTT, mental breakdowns, and some odd concepts.
Summary: Prussia's past comes back to haunt him in an almost literal sense, causing him to take stock of his current life. He doesn't like what he sees.
Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four

With that special sense for finding each other that only nations possess, Gilbert makes his way to Ivan’s home that night. He can still use that secret power that nations use to get from place to place quickly, which is a minimal comfort to him. This way, the end can come that much faster.

It’s no surprise that the massive Russian’s front door is locked tight, but Gilbert knows another way in, assuming it hasn’t been fixed up. He goes around to the back of the house and crouches down, spotting a small window that can only be attached to a basement. He gives it a little nudge and is completely unsurprised to find it unlocked.

There was something wrong with this window that prevented it from ever shutting properly, making the room behind it quite drafty. It’s just about big enough for him to slide through, and he does so, albeit with more difficulty than he had when he last attempted something like this (and that was to get out). Either Ivan had really starved him thin back then, or he has gotten fat from sitting in the basement all day and glutting himself on the modern era’s little luxuries. Either one is a possibility, but he hopes it is the former.

He lands on the floor of a dank dungeon, smelling musty from disuse and pitch black except for the light from the window. His breath almost immediately catches in his throat. He swears he can hear clanking from a distant room, along with someone screaming, “Please, Russia, stop! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He recognizes the voice as Toris’s, and he can hear Ivan’s high-pitched giggling with it. For a moment, he can feel cold metal shackles around his wrists, and the giggling sounds like it’s right next to him, but he blinks and all of those sensations are gone. He shudders as a gust of wind blows in, and all the vile memories associated with this room blow through his mind with it.

It was in this room that Ivan tried his hardest to break Gilbert mentally and physically, demeaning him through every means possible. Gilbert feels a knife tracing his shoulder, but he touches that area and finds nothing. Thinking of what Ivan did to him rekindles his fire. He has no reason to be afraid. He came here to fulfill a mission, and Gilbert is never one to lack the drive to accomplish something that he really wants done.

Gilbert is surprised to find that the door to the dungeon has been left unlocked from the inside. Either the room has been forgotten, or Ivan never bothers to even so much as look at it now that he has no more victims. He doesn’t care enough to think about it and makes his way to the main hallway.

Ivan’s house is a lot bigger than most other nations’ houses, which makes sense in several ways. Many people used to live in here, and Ivan is big enough to need a proportionately large house, anyway. Gilbert prowls around the unlit hallway, looking for the frost giant of his nightmares. He’s in unfriendly territory, so he must keep his guard up.

"Gilbert, what are you doing outside your room? I thought you were going to be a good boy and stay there like I told you to."

Gilbert spins around to find his nemesis and target right behind him, smiling calmly, pipe in hand. "Long time no see, you big bastard," he snarls.

Ivan just giggles and shrugs it off. "You've been a bad boy, so I sent you to your room. You should really go back there." He lazily swings the pipe from hand to hand, not taking those piercing purple eyes off him the whole time.

"What makes you think I'm gonna listen to you?" Something doesn't add up properly in Gilbert's mind. Ivan is talking about sending him to his room, and yet he hasn't even seen Ivan till now. He's at a loss as to how to respond. His old claims of Prussian spirit, the ones that come to mind first, don't seem to work at first, but he uses them anyway after some thought. "If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die with my Prussian spirit intact! Do your worst, you sick fuck!" Yes, they work after all. He is as committed to his undoing as he was to his work back when he truly lived.

More giggling from Ivan. Gilbert notices that his hands are starting to tense around the pipe. "Ah, there you go again with your claims of Prussian this and that! When will you ever understand that Prussia is no more, Gilbert? You are the German Democratic Republic. And I control you. My country has so much influence over yours that it might as well be mine."

That more than gets Gilbert's blood running. He grins a twisted grin, excited by the thought of an upcoming confrontation. Never mind that the reference to the GDR feels a little off; nothing can separate him from a good fight, and his fight is here. He hasn't tasted blood in far too long. "You just shut the fuck up. You can't ever hope to control me, no matter how hard you try to break me! I'll die free as the day I came in here!" He thinks he can hear someone calling his name from far away, but he pays it no heed.

"Oh, I never said anything about wanting to kill you, my dear GDR." There are few things Gilbert detests more than being reduced to a set of initials like that, not even worthy of a full name. "I just plan to teach you a lesson if you keep being uncooperative like this. I don’t want to have to do such a thing, but I can’t just let a naughty child run around breaking rules as he pleases, can I?"

"What're you going to do, punish me? It's nothing I haven't felt before. I can take it. I'm practically used to it by now." Gilbert tries to sound like the headstrong braggart that he was and is, but his voice wavers a little when he remembers that Ivan can do much more than just beating him senseless. The other options are ones that he'll never be used to.

Ivan sighs and shakes his head, and Gilbert notices that his hands are beginning to get a little tenser around the pipe. "You always say that it's nothing to you, but I have more than enough reason to think otherwise. Even with your constant rebellion, I think you're beginning to get a little sluggish. Are you tired, perhaps?” His head cocks to the side as he asks the question. “Or hungry? It's an absolute shame that what I give you is never enough for that greedy belly of yours."

"That's because it's not enough for anyone,” Gilbert snarls in reply. “You just want to keep me weak so that you can keep trying to pound me into the ground, right? Good luck with that. You'll never be able to break me completely." So what if Ivan made sure that Gilbert's body stayed weak? He could still fight. No matter how much it hurt, he had almost always been through something worse. His warrior spirit was more than enough to take him through any kind of trauma. He swears he can hear the strange voice calling his name again, this time closer, but he has more important things to worry about.

Ivan stops toying around with his pipe, his smile fading. "I don't think you should keep this charade up any longer, Gilbert. You should really just go to your room. Or do you want me to test your claims of unbreakability?"

Gilbert takes the change in demeanor as a good sign, sort of. He's getting Ivan riled up and ready for a fight. He can die in one last glorious burst of violence, just as he should. Even if he's unarmed, he's fought Ivan with his bare hands before. It will be interesting before he made his decision to let the other fighter win, anyway. A challenging fight is the best kind. "Go right ahead, you fat, frigid, vodka-bloated freak!" In utter defiance, he keeps that crazy grin of his up and does all he can to keep from trembling with excitement. His heart beats faster in anticipation of this one last brawl.

Ivan takes the bait, his eyes narrowing into a glare that would set off every warning alarm in someone else's head. He quickly puts his glare away and smiles again, but there's absolutely no pleasantness in this grin. Quite the opposite; a pleasant grin isn't that wide. "You're a bad, bad boy, Gilbert, and you need to learn your place! If you're not going to be a good boy, then I'll make you behave!" Just as planned, he rushes toward Gilbert, ready to smash his pipe into him with all his might. Gilbert also charges toward his foe, hoping to at least knock him down to start the fight. He starts to run, but he's abruptly jerked back by something grabbing onto the back of his shirt.


Gilbert unintentionally yelps as his charge is aborted, then blinks to find Ivan nowhere in front of him. In fact, the husky Russian is now in back of him, gripping his shirt.

"Gilbert, what are you doing here at this hour?" Ivan somewhat nonchalantly turns Gilbert around to face him. "I can't say I ever expected a visit from you, especially not now, and especially not like this. Who were you shouting at just now? And why didn't you hear me when I called you?" He seems to be relatively docile for the time being, if a little grouchy from such a rude awakening.

Confused by how Ivan got behind him so quickly, Gilbert has nothing to say at first, but he quickly pulls himself back to his senses. "What do you think I'm here for?" he growls. "I'm here because I want you to finish what you started!" He tries to pull out of Ivan's grip and attack him, but his captor has strengthened his grip to prevent him from moving.

"Finish what I started?" Ivan cocks his head and looks at Gilbert for a moment, his normal slight smile gone. He knits his brows, as if he remembers something that worries him. Apparently, he actually knows what Gilbert is talking about. "I... I think you ought to come with me, then." He takes Gilbert by the hand and drags him through the house to his room.
Tags: -prussia, -russia, fan: fic

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