This story is to commemorate the 100th anniversary of Latvian, Lithuanian, and Estonian independence. Happy centennial, my angels.

CHAPTER 1: Увезен – Taken

Eduard von Bock
Московский Кремль
Москва, СССР

Брагинская, Катерина Олегівна
Дом Совета Министров УССР
Киев, УССР

1 января 1953 г.

Dear Katyusha,

Happy New Year! I must admit, I was mildly dismayed when your brother announced he would not be inviting you to Moscow for a New Years' celebration. I'm uncertain if he provided you with a reason, but I suspect it may have to do with some unusual events that took place at the mansion two weeks ago. I was hoping to discuss it with you on New Years', but it seems that for the time being a letter will have to suffice.

You may well know, that I have never considered myself as one who makes friends quickly, nor as someone who prefers chaos to silence. It would be an understatement to say the events of two weeks ago were nothing short of a disaster, during which I longed for the (comparatively) serene lifestyle I've become accustomed to since the war's end. But now that I have finally been granted my wish, and the mansion is quiet again with no undue interruptions or crises… I find myself despising the silence. Furthermore, I fear that I have lost a dear friend – one I became acquainted with no less than two weeks ago.

I'm sure you have received word of the upcoming meeting, and I look forward to seeing you there. So much has occurred in the last two weeks, that I can scarcely imagine what 1953 will bring. But I have hope – if only a figment of hope – that life in the Soviet Union is going to change for the better.

I hope you are faring well, and that you have safe travels to Moscow.

With affection,

ЭССР
Eduard von Bock

Two Weeks Earlier

The smooth glide of fountain pen ink on paper jolted at the sound of shattering glass. Eduard cursed as the black liquid blotted onto the document; now the higher-ups would think him an incompetent secretary. The desk shook with a thud that reverberated through the floor, and a cry of pain rang through the halls. The pen clattered to the desk, chair scraping against the wooden floor as Eduard leapt to his feet and raced into the hallway. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Raivis?" he called, glancing through the corridors. Slick mahogany floorboards stretched into dimly-lit halls, sunlight reflecting the snow through red curtains that danced to the hum of the indoor heater. The entryways crisscrossed with traditional carvings were wide enough for Eduard to peer through as he passed. He walked by a dining room, a piano room, and a small library before he came upon the source of the crash.

The room was meant for display rather than use; a circular tea table stood in the center, and to the back of the room glass-doored cabinets filled with priceless china. Eduard's eyes swept across the floor to take in the toppled step-ladder and scattered shards of porcelain, white chinks quivering from the fall. A small moan escaped the boy sprawled across the floor. He wore a maroon colored uniform that had been tailored for his small size – even so, it seemed bulky and stiff on his thin form, a sign that he had lost weight since it was fitted. He muttered to himself in a language that Eduard didn't understand, thin fingers curling into fists as he pushed himself up with shaking arms.

"Is everything alright?"

The boy's head shot up, and a bright pair of violet eyes met Eduard's. The color was striking, but they were sunken into his skull with dark patches beneath them. Caramel ringlets hugged his round face, a thick mop of hair that was impossible to tame. "I-I – I'm fine."

Eduard took a step towards his little brother. "Here, let me help – "

"NO!" Raivis shouted, scrambling to his feet so fast that his back hit the cupboard. It shook with the faint rattle of dishware clinking together. He forced a wavering smile. "I – I-I mean, no, th-thank you, I can do it myself."

A shimmer caught Eduard's eye, and he looked down to see dark blotches on the slick wood floor. "Are you… bleeding?"

"Huh?" Raivis followed Eduard's gaze and outstretched his hand to reveal bright crimson smeared across the creases in his palm.

"That looks bad." Eduard stepped forward to get a better look but Raivis snatched his hand away and shrank back against the cabinet.

"I-It's nothing, just a scratch! It really doesn't hurt; nothing a bandage can't fix and I definitely know where to find those! Y-you should probably go back to work, those piles of paperwork are getting lonely without you, haha…"

Eduard knew his brother rambled when he was nervous, but this was ridiculous."Do you smell that?"

Raivis glanced around the room frantically. "W-what? N-no, I don't smell any – ah!" Eduard grabbed the collar of the boy's uniform and yanked him forward. He took a deep whiff and was overwhelmed with a scent that was all too familiar. Eduard felt his heart sink. "You've been drinking."

Nervous laughter flitted through the air like a wounded songbird. "What? Me? D-drinking? N-no, you have it all wrong, you see I was actually drinking – uh… tea! So there's really nothing to worry about – "

Eduard's eyes hardened. "Raivis, we've talked about this."

"But I didn't do it!"

"Do you know what alcohol will do to you? Do you want to become like him?"

Raivis pulled at Eduard's grip, blood smearing onto his hand. "Let me go…"

"Tell me the truth."

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"Raivis – "

"I said, let GO of me!" With a violent shove, Raivis pushed Eduard away, turning and stumbling out of the room.

Eduard jumped to his feet. "Raivis!" He made to run after the Latvian but stopped in his tracks when the walls shuddered with the slam of a bathroom door. Eduard stood alone in the hallway, his only company the echoes of his heavy breathing. Part of him was angry at his little brother for hiding his addiction, but he knew it was hardly Raivis's fault – the boy had witnessed horrors that not even a nation should have to endure.

Eduard thought it best not to seek out Raivis for the remainder of the day. He swept up the shattered dish and returned to his office, mindlessly filing paperwork as he tried to think of a way to help his little brother. The root of the problem was the fact that Raivis was a servant in this hellish mansion, but of course there was nothing Eduard could do to change that. His options ran circles in his head, until at last he accepted that the only way to help Raivis was to convince him that alcohol wasn't a viable coping mechanism.

Eduard sighed, setting his glasses on the desk and rubbing circles into his eyes. He peered through his fingers to look at the framed photo propped on his desk, he and his two brothers standing stock-straight in uniform against a slate grey background. Although it was impossible to see in the photograph, Eduard was very different than his brothers. The two relied on their emotions and gut instinct to make decisions, while he depended on logic. Maybe Toris could help? His older brother had a gift with people, one that Eduard had never possessed. If anyone could convince Raivis to stop drinking, it was him. Eduard picked up his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief tucked in his breast pocket, then slid them back over the bridge of his nose. He snatched up the pen with a flourish, leaning over the desk to scratch a signature. As soon as he was finished, he would find his older brother.

The light streaming into the office had turned from a bright gold to a glowing rose, and now a deep indigo. Eduard glanced out the windows to see a strip of jewel orange bleeding into the horizon. That seemed to be the only good thing about this cursed mansion: It had a perfect view of the sunset. Still not an Estonian sky, Eduard thought bitterly, rising to his feet and striding out of the office. Once again he wove through the maze of the mansion, boots thumping on the slick mahogany floors. Eduard kept his eyes forward, only glancing at the walls when he passed a boldly-painted portrait of Stalin. A cold shudder ran down his spine; he shoved his hands into his pockets and quickened his pace.

A sharp turn through the kitchen led to a stairwell that descended into the servant's quarters. The sound of Eduard's footsteps became hollow around him, echoing off the cement walls. Walking down the stairs meant entering into a completely different world than the elegant decor of the mansion. The waxed floorboards became rough and worn, the walls rich with design faded into a dull wash of cement. There were no carvings to be found on the doors, and the handles were simple brass knobs. This part of the mansion was not meant to display the Soviet Union's rich history, culture, and power. No… for this corridor only had one function, and that was to house subordinates. It was ironic, Eduard realized, that despite the countless elegant guest rooms throughout the mansion, he and his brothers shared a single bedroom. Of course, he didn't mind – the three of them were so busy during the day, their only chance to spent time with each other was at night. But sharing a room meant their personal lives became rather… entangled.

The Baltics' room was small but functional. Three wooden twin beds stood equally spaced on the left wall, piled with woolen blankets. Beside each bed was a side-table with a lamp, and two dressers were sufficient to contain all three of the brothers' limited wardrobe. Although the walls and furniture were painfully bland, closer observation would reveal bits and pieces of the Baltics' personal lives, where it was absent upstairs. The side-table by Raivis's bed was piled with books – romance novels, most of them, the boy was a hopeless romantic – and a small desk he had hauled downstairs was scattered with poetry notes and brainstorming journals from his own creative writing projects (in Russian, of course.) Stacked on Eduard's dresser were science publications he had written during his time studying at the University of Tartu. (Non-political, of course.) There were photographs, too – a much happier one of the trio, back in the 30's when they had been independent (Each flag "censored" with black marker, of course.) Other photos showed the Baltic States posing with friends – Poland, America, Ukraine, and Finland were a few of the faces smiling from the dresser. The more important items – nationalist poetry, saved patches from their old military uniforms, rosary beads – were stored safely in the countless nooks and secret compartments the Baltic States had built, hidden from any prying eyes. It was cramped, and dull, and cluttered… but this tiny room Eduard shared with his brothers felt much more like home than the looming halls of the mansion.

The door let out a creak as Eduard pushed it open. A flash of movement caught his eye; he looked up just in time to see Toris whisk something out of sight. The Lithuanian was already smiling, nervously tucking a strand of brown hair behind his ear.

Eduard pulled the door closed behind him with a soft click. "What was that?"

"Hm?"

"Don't tell me you're still – " He lowered his voice to a whisper. "You're still smuggling letters?"

Toris's eyebrows drew together, fingers curling around the edge of the mattress. "I've found someone with… connections to Warsaw. It's the only contact we have."

Eduard saw the loneliness in his brother's eyes and decided not to argue. Years spent at the Nazi Estate in Berlin had brought Toris and Poland close again. But now that the war was over, their master was doing everything in his power to rip them apart. As if losing his national identity wasn't enough, Toris had also lost his best friend. Eduard lowered himself onto his own mattress, resting his elbows on his knees. He watched as his older brother carefully folded a piece of paper and tucked it into the dust jacket of Crime and Punishment.

The Lithuanian looked about Eduard's age – in his late twenties. He was slightly shorter with a thinner build, wispy brown hair curving down to brush his shoulders. Eduard thought his brother always looked more… feminine, if that was the right word. Not only in his appearance, but his nature – his face was soft and he always comforted Eduard and Raivis during the most trying times. Even so, Eduard could always see something darker swirling behind those emerald irises. Looking at him now, suddenly Eduard didn't want to tell his brother about Raivis. It was obvious Toris was having a rough day – he felt it wrong to burden him with yet another issue. But as the silence stretched on, he realized he had no choice.

"Raivis was drinking again."

Toris's hand jerked away from the book as though he had been stung.

"I know we've tried before, but I can't bear to see him like this. I thought it best you talk to him."

"You would deny our brother his only means of escape?"

The question took Eduard aback; as the one who had suffered the most from their master's heavy drinking he had expected Toris to be outraged.

His brother turned around and sent Eduard a weak smile. "Sorry, that was a bit of dry humor. I'll see what I can do."

Eduard frowned. Dry humor, huh? He wasn't sure why, but that smile had unnerved him.

There was a low creak, and Eduard's eyes darted to the doorway to see a scrawny form draped with old pajamas, topped with a mop of honey-gold hair. Raivis's eyes were fixed on the floor as he shuffled to his bed. Toris and Eduard watched him climb under his covers and stare into his lap. After a long stretch of silence, he croaked, "It hurt today. It really hurt, and I just… I just wanted to forget everything."

Eduard sent Toris a meaningful look. The Lithuanian gave a shuddering sigh – for a moment Eduard wondered if his brother would crack under the weight of added stress. But he only looked up to meet Raivis with a stern gaze. "Raivis. No matter how many times I've watched Ivan try to drink his problems away, the results are always the same: He must wake up the next morning and face them."

"I know!" Raivis's hands balled around the sheets. "I – I know, a-and I'm sorry, okay? It's just – I just – " His voice cracked as his eyes shimmered with unshed tears."I can't go out into the city, I can't eat my own food or speak my own language, I can't even distract myself with meaningful work because all I do in this place is – is clean! I can hear my people pleading, begging for help and – a-and all I can do is just sit here, a-and – " His eyes squeezed shut, tears rolling down his cheeks to drip off his round chin.

Eduard's heart wrenched. If only there was something he could offer, any comfort to Raivis other than alcohol. His mind went back to those blessed twenty years of independence. Back then Raivis's smile would light up the room as he plucked the strings of a kokle to the thumps of traditional dancers whirling across the dance floor. Eduard could still hear those peels of laughter, the splash of seawater and the rush of salty wind through outstretched fingers during their beach trips. And of course, the crumbs falling from Raivis's mouth as he told funny stories over piles of traditional food they had prepared, sometimes laughing so hard that he choked.

But for all the things that made his little brother smile, they had none of them here. Folk instruments and song were strictly forbidden – only Soviet anthems were allowed. Moscow was a days' train ride from any coastline, and "family dinners" were always taut with tension. Eduard clenched his teeth. Surely, there was some way he could make his brother smile again.

A deep thump resonated through the hall, and the Baltics froze where they sat. Eduard recognized that sound, and yet he refused to believe what his ears were hearing. Both Raivis and Toris had jolted to attention, and as three of them exchanged glances Eduard realized with dread his ears had not deceived him.

"Bed," Toris hissed, dropping the book on the side table just as Eduard reached over to click off the light. He flung aside his sheets and slid in, trying to calm his panicked breathing as he stared up at the cracked ceiling. His mind raced to think of a reason for his master to venture down the stairs. That letter… couldn't have been Resistance, could it?

The heavy footsteps grew closer until they stopped at the door. There was a dull scrape of metal as the doorknob slowly turned, then an agonizing creeeeak. Eduard's skin crawled as he imagined two glowing violets peering into their room, that innocent smile calculating who would be his next victim.

"Asleep already? I thought I heard crying earlier… it was Latvia, da?"

No… Eduard's hands shook as he clung to the sheets. Not him!

"Such a shame, I see no reason for my Baltics to be crying. We are family, da? I should do something to help." He was using that infuriating cheerful tone of voice, one that faked innocence but threatened to spill blood. Eduard cracked an eye open to see his master's form silhouetted in the dark. He was huge – not just in height, but every aspect about him seemed to dwarf the Baltics. Unlike his brothers who shrunk inside of their uniforms, the thick fabric of his overcoat stretched over sinewy muscle. Even his hands were extraordinarily strong – Eduard had watched him crush glass bottles to shards in his anger. The power looming at their doorway while they lay helpless in their beds made Eduard feel even more vulnerable than he usually did around his master.

"Latviaaa," Russia sang, and Eduard heard a small whimper from across the room. "Perhaps you can tell me what is wrong, da? There is leftover blini from last night's dessert, I'm sure this will make you happy."

Eduard felt sick. If Russia had somehow discovered Toris's "contact" in Warsaw, then he wanted information… and Raivis was the most likely of the three to spill it. But he doesn't know anything! It didn't matter – Eduard knew that his master would break every bone in Raivis's body before accepting that fact.

"Latvia." Russia's voice had fallen to a warning tone, and Eduard could tell that he wasn't going to repeat himself.

"Y-y-yes, s-sir…" Mattress springs creaked as Raivis sat up and slid out of bed. His entire body shook, barely managing to take the few steps to the doorway.

Before Eduard could stop himself, he threw aside the sheets and bolted up in bed. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by another voice and glanced sideways to see that Toris had done the same thing. Eduard blinked in the darkness. That's right. He's here this time, he can help us.

"Ivan," Toris began, somehow pulling his lips into a diplomatic smile. He was one of the select few who were on a first-name basis with their master. "Are you sure – "

"There is no need to worry; Latvia and I are just going to have a friendly chat."

"But – "

"He will be safe." Russia sent Toris a smile that dared him to challenge that statement. Eduard looked from his brother to his master, expecting Toris to do more to intervene. But the expression on the Lithuanian's face softened into acceptance as he nodded for Raivis to continue. "It'll be alright," he whispered.

Eduard stared at his brother in shock. That was it? A white lie to comfort their little brother when Raivis knew just as well as Eduard what Russia planned to do with him?

Russia seemed to lose patience and stepped forward to grab hold of Raivis's hand. The boy let out a yelp, not fast enough to avoid the Russian's iron grip. "Latvia and I will be going now, have a good sleep, мальчики!" Eduard watched in horror as Raivis tried to dig in his heels, but he was powerless against Russia's strength. He tripped and staggered out of the room, turning to look at Eduard as the door slammed shut. From the moonlit hallway, Eduard could clearly see the shimmer on the boy's cheeks.

He leapt out of bed, rushing to the door just as it rattled with the sound of a key in a lock. No… no, no no NO! Eduard wrenched at the doorknob, but his efforts were useless. He cursed and took a step back, kicking the door so that it shook in its hinges.

"Спокойной ночи!" Russia called cheerfully, and the thumps of his footsteps began retreating away.

Eduard's breathing was heavy as he struggled to reign in the panic that clawed at his imagination. He could hear the gasp of choked tears and muffled screams behind huge gloved hands, the clang of the dungeon door slamming shut, his hands growing raw as he slammed his fists uselessly into the steel again and again…

EDUARD! E-Eduard, help me, PLE-EE-ASE!

"Eduard."

He jumped at the hand on his shoulder. He had been so immersed in his memories that he hadn't noticed Toris coming up behind him. Eduard glared at the door handle, unable to bring himself to look Toris in the face. "You believed him."

"Yes, I believed him."

"Then why did he lock the door."

"Because he knew that you wouldn't."

Eduard rounded on his brother, "Don't you realize what's going on here? Russia knows about your letters, and now he's going to interrogate Raivis –"

"He doesn't know about the letters."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do," Toris pressed, his voice lowered to a whisper. "If Ivan found out that I was writing to Feliks, whatever 'interrogations' he planned would only serve the purpose of forcing me to watch you suffer. I'm not in the kitchen, so he's not making a point."

"You don't need to watch for him to make a point," Eduard hissed. "And he's not taking Raivis into the kitchen – he's taking him to the dungeon!"

"Nobody but Ivan has gone in or out of that dungeon for seven years, Eduard. And I think you know the reason why."

In Eduard's panic, he had forgotten that it was unlikely for Russia to take Raivis to the dungeon at all. But location didn't matter – Russia could interrogate Raivis just as easily in the kitchen. There were plenty of tools at his disposal…

"If I thought Raivis was in real danger, you know I would have risked everything to save him. Please, Eduard – you have to trust me."

Eduard's chest burned. He knew Toris was telling the truth, and yet an old hatred stirred within him. When he spoke, his voice was low and measured. "Russia went out of his way to take Raivis away from us in the middle of the night, and you think he's perfectly safe?"

The Lithuanian took a breath as if to answer, but whatever he wanted to say seemed to die in his throat. Silence pressed around them, and the black feeling in Eduard's gut twisted into a tight coil. He knelt down by the door, pressing his ear against the wood and straining for any noise. He could hear voices coming from the kitchen – so Russia wasn't taking him to to the dungeon. At least not yet.

Fabric shifted as Toris put his back to the door and slid to the ground. "Raivis said he just wanted to forget everything. That's what Ivan says, when he gets drunk." Eduard turned to see Toris sitting with his arms draped over his knees. "Do you want to forget?"

The question surprised him; it was rare for Toris to ask his opinion. "If I did, what would that make me?"

Toris huffed through his nose. "I don't know. Happy, maybe."

"I think ignorant is a better word."

"They're the same, aren't they?"

Eduard didn't answer; he needed to focus on the voices echoing from the kitchen. As the hours crept by, he was vaguely aware of Toris's breathing becoming shallow. Eduard's eyelids grew heavy, and his head fell forward to rest on the door. I have to stay awake… I have to stay awake for Raivis… But the wretched state of his country was taking its toll. Despite the desperate need to stay awake, Eduard could do nothing to keep himself from slipping into the realm of nightmares that was sleep.

Hi, everyone.

Five years ago, I posted the first chapter of my major ffn writing project, Diamond in the Rough. Since then, I have fallen so in love with Russia and the Baltic States that I am now majoring in Russian studies at University. I have been blessed with the INCREDIBLE opportunity to live in a Russian-speaking area of Latvia for a year. During my time here, I have been able to visit each Baltic State, as well as other important historical sites mentioned in the story. DITR is a culmination of all that I have learned from picking apart Pushkin poems in Russian, to playing monopoly with Latvians, to being moved to tears in KGB museums. I started this insane project – re-writing DITR – almost three years ago. But I haven't posted a single chapter until now, because I was waiting until I completely finished it. But at long long last, it is FINALLY complete!

Things You Need To Know:

-My goal is to update once a week, every weekend.

-The updated version will be the THIRD draft of this story. I am now making final edits chapter by chapter before each update.

-This story is literally written by reviews. At each chapter, I went back and checked the reviews of the first draft to see what people liked/needed to change. I've even SAVED those reviews, so I can continue to check when going through the final sweep. So while yes, this story will update regardless of whether you review or not, reviews help me immensely with final edits. This especially applies to the last few chapters, which I left bare-bones to be open to changes depending on my readers' reactions.

-DITR covers very dark and adult-themed subjects. Further disclaimers can be found before individual chapters.

-DITR is a part of a series on WWII and the Soviet Era. Please see my profile for the other stories in this series.

-The first draft has not been lost forever, as I have copied it and saved it onto a file. I'm hesitant to share this with returning readers, but if you really want a copy, PM me and we can discuss.

-A HUGE thanks to CoffeeAndSunshine, who has agreed to take on the incredible project of being my beta reader.

-My main source of inspiration for this story is Artificial Starlight's Giving In. Without that story, DITR would not exist... and I may not be in Latvia today. Also a shout-out to great detective series like Death Note, and especially Black Butler. Yana is my goddess.

I'm sorry for that incredibly long author's note, but I wanted to get everything out of the way. I cannot BEGIN to express how EXCITED I am to share this with you guys! So without further ado... Добро пожаловать в Советский Союз, товарищи ;)