Chapter 3
Slowly, Prussia opened his eyes to look up at a stone ceiling. His head hurt. He sat up, too quickly, his mind spinning. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the awful feeling of the room moving around him. He opened his eyes slowly and tried to take in his surroundings. He was still wearing the pants from his military uniform, his boots, and the same black tee-shirt as before. The room he was in was small, small and cold. The walls, floor, and ceiling were rock. He was sitting on a bed that looked like it could fold and latch into the wall. There was a small table with a lamp on it next to the bed.
Prussia sighed. Not even a pen and paper? Really, Russia? He looked around the room. It was blank. Not even a window. He didn't mind that. No sun. He didn't like the sun. It didn't like him either. It turned him into a painful lobster of pain. He was happy to avoid it.
He stood slowly and turned to the door. He expected it to be locked but turned the handle anyway. To his surprise, it opened. He walked out the door, looking around the hallway. It too, was stone, with darkness on one side, and a long granite staircase on the other. He assumed it was the basement. He looked at the stairs, then back down the hallway. He wanted to know what Russia was capable of, and that looked like the way to find out. Slowly, he walked down the hall, towards the darkness, his red eyes adjusting quickly.
At the end of the hallway was a door, a giant, black, wooden door. He stepped towards it, hearing a splash beneath his feet. He looked down. Liquid seeped from under the door frame, dark liquid. Prussia leaned down and touched it. It was blood. He looked back up at the door, leaning against it, listening. Nothing. He tried the handle. Locked.
Figures. He sighed. He didn't exactly want to know what was behind the door, but not knowing was almost worse. There was a lot of blood...
Prussia turned around, looking at the staircase. He shook his head, disturbed with his own curiosity, and walked upstairs.
Russia's house was huge. A giant mansion. But the air inside was cold and dark. Prussia shivered. It was like the whole building was infected. Like there was a deeply ingrained illness inside of it that wouldn't go away. He walked past the first long hallway, into the dining room. It was a grand room, beautiful, with ornate carvings all around it, but the soft light from old lamps was just as cold as the air. The table and chairs in the middle didn't match the room. They were plain, dull, utilitarian, and nothing more.
He turned around suddenly, feeling Russia's sharp breath on his neck. He looked up at the much bigger country, tensing his hands into fists.
"Hello, GDR." Russia smiled.
Prussia didn't answer.
"You don't want to say 'hello' to me, ptitska?" (Little bird)
"Ulgh! Don't call me that!" He didn't know what it meant, but he didn't care. No nicknames. It felt too possessive. He tried to push past Russia but was easily stopped by Ivan's arm against the doorframe.
"You don't like your cage?" Russia looked confused, even hurt.
"Nein!" Prussia looked up at him, trying to hide the panic in his voice, pushing into Russia's arm, still unable to move it.
"I don't like your language," Russia shook his head, forcing Prussia back easily. "It's ugly."
"Yours isn't much better!" Prussia planted his feet, refusing to let Russia push him again.
"Someday, I hope you learn to like it," Russia said with a dangerous smile. "In Russian, your 'nein', is 'nyet'. Why don't you try it?"
"Ny-" The word was difficult for his German tongue. "Nyet."
