AN: Buckle up kiddies, there's some dark imagery in this one.

Sorry this is late and short! This was actually meant to be the second part of the last chapter and I had intended it to be much longer (with bamfs and so fourth) but alas my imagination exceeded my talent once more. I have a reading week next week though so hopefully i'll have more time to write :D (though i need to prioritise other fics next week :P)

Anyway as always thanks a bunch for the fav's, reviews and follows you guys are awesome! Also, the first part is in present tense because idk i just find it easier to write in for things like that. Unbeta'd and enjoy!

"Marry me," Bela hisses (the knife digs in between his ribs- twists)

"No." He says firmly.

He draws a swirly pattern in his skin (matches the other that litter his chest – Bela'll clean them out with iodine later and he's old but he'll never get over the sting) pulls the sides of the wound wide.

"Marry me."

He grits his teeth. "No."

Bela pours in the salt.

His arm is pulled taut (there's blood between his legs and his bones scream) Bela takes his wrist, grips it tight.

"Marry me."

"No."

Bela snaps the bone.

He whimpers.

His throat is dry, his stomach howls (he's been through this so many times before – he's a nation, he can deal with this) Bela leans down low, his eyes are fever bright.

"Marry me."

He's choking, "Nyet."

His brother holds his head under the ice water.

He's choking and sobbing and Bela stop.

The Mongol Empire liked to keep him on a chain and (beat him and burn him and break him) make him sleep outside in the cold (not that he ever slept) Once the chain froze and when they tore it off it took half his skin. When Poland and Lithuania owned him (briefly, briefly) Poland treated him like a puppy (they think he doesn't remember) And Lenin made him shoot them in that dingy basement and Stalin liked to starve him and hurt him and keep in the dark and the cold.

He could deal with that (no he couldn't) but he understood that.

He doesn't understand this. Can't fight back.

He holds his breath until he's sure he's going to explode and Bela yanks him out gasping and pleading.

This is Bela his sister, his brother, his family. He remembers finding her (she'd been so small, so innocent) maybe this is his fault. He should have looked after her differently.

"Marry me."

He doesn't see any of the solemn little girl he and Katyusha found wandering in the snow.

There's a thick, heavy, wet sound and his heart slides out, falling into the bath, dying the water red; (it feels like he can disconnect now, it's always been easier to be heartless.) But he can't.

He sobs, "Nyet, Bela- stop please."

Bela's grin could cut steel. "Oh, Vanya. This is just the beginning sweet brother."

With his free hand Belarus scoops the heart out of the water and brings it up to cradle it to his chest. "So now I have it physically brother."

Bela's hand is cold and his grip is tight and Ivan can't breathe anymore.

He lets Ivan fall and stalks out of the bathroom. Ivan curls into himself, bloody and trembling and tries to convince himself all the water on his face is from the icy bath (even if some of it is hot and salty)

It was only when Matthew stepped off the plane that he realised exactly how out of his depth he was. He didn't speak a word of Belarusian and he knew the bare minimum of Russian, he didn't have a car, the rental at the airport was closed (since it was almost midnight) and he highly doubted there would be any car rentals still open. Katyusha had texted him Bela's address on the Belarusian-Russian border, a seven hour drive away.

By the time he got through security he'd resigned himself to the fact that he'd have to leave Russia with his demented little brother for another night; there was no way he could reach Belarus' house that night. With the help of one of the airport workers he found a cheap hotel for the night and had managed to get a cab.

The hotel was a few roads away from the airport and once he had dumped his bags and had a quick shower he found himself dialling Katyusha's number (even though it was gone one).

She picked up immediately, "Matvey?"

"I'm here, I'm in Minsk," he said slightly breathlessly.

"Oh wonderful! Did you manage to find a car?"

"Non, it's too late. I'll get one first thing."

She helped him plot a route that he scribbled down on the map and taught him a few key words and phrases before insisting he get to bed ("No point in you going all the way out there if you're too tired to drive, Matvey!") He fell into a deep sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow and woke up early, getting to the airport just as the car rental place was opening and after a hurried breakfast he was on his way.

He wished he'd brought Kuma along; the drive was silent and long and all he could do was think about the bruises on Russia's hips.

He reached Belarus' house just before evening fell, it was isolated, a few miles outside of a small village with a name Matthew couldn't pronounce. He doubled back around and parked in the village, walking back to the house.

He had no idea what he was doing here.

No idea how he was supposed to do this.

He wasn't Alfred, he didn't have a gun. He didn't have any weapons come to think of it. He groaned mutely and ran a hand through his hair, Alfred had super strength, Arthur had magic and he had the ability to be forgotten.

Great.

But he'd already come this far and he wasn't about to leave Russia here alone.

The path leading up to Belarus' house was gravel and every crunch seemed to echo around the empty garden. He skirted around the edge of the house, all the lights were on but all the windows were shut and Matthew knew his best shot was getting in without Belarus noticing (which was pretty much his entire plan so far) The backdoor though was mercifully ajar and Matthew peered in to Belarus' fairly large kitchen; it was empty so he slipped inside.

Merde, what now?

He couldn't hear anything but that didn't mean Belarus wasn't in. The house was big and Belarus lived alone, he could be anywhere (doing anything) Taking a few steadying breaths Matthew shuffled across the kitchen and edged his way in to the hall, pausing every few seconds to listen carefully. He made his way through the ground floor of the house swiftly and paused at the bottom of the stairs, he could hear the soft of murmurs of a voice from somewhere on the upper floor.

Taking another steadying breath he made his way up the staircase and crouched on the dark landing. The voice seemed to be coming from a room a few doors from where Matthew hid, the door was slightly ajar and he could hear Belarus clearly now. The conversation was definitely one sided and by the way Belarus kept pausing Matthew assumed the nation was the phone.

This could be his chance!

If Belarus was on the phone Russia might be alone elsewhere in the house, maybe Matthew could get him out quickly.

Biting his lip, he moved slowly down the corridor, opening the two doors nearest him as quietly as possible; the first opened into a small, empty library-office room, the second a neat bedroom, equally empty. Maybe Russia was in there with Belarus. Maybe he was tied up and gagged or unconscious or worse. Should he try and look in to the room? But if Belarus saw him he'd be dead.

Before he could make his decision the door swung open and Belarus strode out.

Matthew froze.

Heart thundering.

This was it.

He was going to be ripped limb from limb.

Belarus was still talking heatedly on the phone as he stepped out of the room, muttering angrily.

He turned.

He glanced right at Matthew and his eyes slid right over him as he strode past and down the stairs.

It took Matthew a good few minutes to start breathing again.

Maybe being invisible to people didn't suck so much after all.

He worked through the rest of the rooms quickly; he didn't want to risk Belarus finding him again; he had no idea how to turn his invisibility on and off and he really didn't want to risk it. Of course, Russia was in the last room on the second floor.

He was curled on his side, visibly trembling and sopping wet. Matthew had to bite back his cry of joy.

He crossed the room in a second and pulled Russia up. The country blinked up at him in amazement, "Matvey?"

"Shh," Matthew hissed, eyeing the bruises on Russia's face and neck. He was still clothed in a long sleeved shirt so Matthew couldn't actually see much but from the way Russia's left arm hung limply by his side the bruises weren't the only injuries he had. "Are you okay?"

"D-da," he rasped (though it was clear he was anything but) "How did you...?"

Matthew smiled, "Finally found a good use for being invisible."

For a few seconds Russia simply stared at him then a slow smile spread across his face. "Clever, Matvey." He said quietly.

"Not with a bang but with a whimper, eh?" Matthew smiled.