The Siege of Budapest {Hungary and Russia}

[Russia]

February 13th of 1945, Budapest

It was true what they said about victory being sweet. It had been roughly four months since the offensive had began, and now at last, the Soviet forces had emerged victorious over the Germans and their allies. Ivan couldn’t have been happier. Now, Germany’s southern flank was left unprotected. An easy target. The blonde Russian nation was simply ecstatic, convinced that the war was finally coming to a close in favor of a Soviet victory. With perhaps, a tiny bit of help from the western allies. Not that they did nearly as much as Ivan's forces did, or so he invisoned. If the Nazis had not been so preoccupied with the eastern front, then they probably would have taken over the rest of Europe by this point.

The weather started in with a cold rain, as Russia examined the aftermath of the recent battle. Observing the scene, the only words that could possibly be used to sum it up were “total devastation.” Not to the point that Stalingrad had been, but bad none the less. Many people had died, soldiers and citizens alike, and their bodies littered the ground in places. Soviet artillery had made short work of several buildings and tanks, and their smoldering remains created a hellish landscape for both the Soviet forces and the newly captured prisoners of war to walk through. It could have been an image straight out of a nightmare to any sane, reasonably empathetic person, but Ivan was far from either of these traits. Caught up in the high of victory, all he could focus on was how magnificently his troops had fought, and how wonderful it was that this area of resistance had been crushed under his might. Then again, after being successfully isolated, how else could these Germans and Hungarians have expected the battle to go?

Making his way around a slightly damaged T-34-85 Soviet tank, the giddy nation started in the direction of a small grouping of buildings that had not been completely destroyed. As satisfying as it would be to watch the prisoners being marched off for various prison camps, he needed to check in on his personal, new captive. She was alone right now, locked up in the cellar of one of the remaining buildings, and he would hate to leave her that way for too long. He had yet to tell her just how much fun he had crushing her capitol and besting her in a fight. Ivan loved crushing the hopes of his enemies when he could, and rubbing metaphorical salt in their wounds after he had defeated them. It was all part of the game. One of the parts he derived the most pleasure from. Of course Hungary would be under his rule from now on; now that his forces occupied her lands. Which was a mercy for her, as she could see how a proper government ran things.

It took Russia very little time to re-find the shabby little building he had hid his Hungarian captive in. It had once been some sort of a small store- a bakery from the looks of it- and though the walls themselves were heavily damaged in places, the foundation and structure remained strong. With it’s underground cellar, it had been the perfect place to retrain Hungary after besting her in their fight. Now that he had dealt with his other duties as a high ranking military commander, Ivan now had some time to toy with the injured nation. Striding into the broken building, the crazed blonde made a bee-line for the cellar hatch, lifting it open and racing down the stairs into the dank little cellar below.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, making him glad that he had left the hatch ajar, so that a bit of light could make its way down. The cellar was smaller than the one he had at his home. The one he often used when punishing Toris. Also, instead of his assortment of old farming tools and pointy objects, all this dingy little cellar had was sacks of flour lining the walls. If Hungary chose to be difficult, he would have to rely on the weapons he carried with him for inflicting any injuries.

And off to the side, chained by her wrists and neck to the wall, was his Hungarian captive. With an air of smugness, Ivan approached the defeated nation, an all too cheerful smile on his pale lips. “Hello again, Elizaveta.” he began amicably. “Sorry I had to run off and leave you alone like that. I had important things to see to. But now that all of your soldiers have been either killed or taken prisoner, and your capitol destroyed, I think we have time to talk.” He paused to stand in front of the young woman, examining her dark outline in the faint lighting. “You do want to talk to me, don’t you?”

[Hungary]

Time seemed to tick by slowly as Elizaveta sat huddled against the wall of the dank cellar. She had finally managed to block out the screaming, but the sound was replaced with the popping sound of gunfire which made her cringe as she pictured the bullets piercing the flesh of her people, of her allies.

I tried, she shuddered as she tried to huddle closer to the wall, becoming as small as possible amongst the bags of flour, I tried to save them all. She peered at her knees, still haunted by visions of the past hundred and eight days.

You can't be serious! And just how long have you been plotting this behind my back?!

Elizaveta! Now's not the time to let your personal feelings control your judgement. Hitler is going to lose this war and I'd rather our people not sacrifice any more of their lives for a cause we dont fully believe in! I know you grow weary of the fighting Elizaveta and now that Romania has turned...


You expect me to as well?!

Horthy sighed, closing his eyes for a few brief moments before opening them again to look at his nation. Yes, Elizaveta, yes I do.

Elizaveta gapped at him, stunned at his bluntness, yet at the same time she understood why he was doing this, why he was risking their alliance with Germany. It was true she was weary of the fighting, weary of the bloodshed, just tired of everything, but as much as she loathed Hitler, she respected Ludwig, and like her, Ludwig would follow his boss' orders reguardless if he agreed with them or not. Elizaveta looked down at her hand that grasped the back of the chair, her knuckles white.

And you believe it's the only way?

The Soviets are already on the move and will be upon us within the month. We can stop this now Elizaveta! God woman don't look at me like that! Don't you see I am doing this for our people?!

Y....yes...

Then sign the armistice! End the war for Hungary!

Elizaveta bit her lip, clearly torn by the situation she faced. She couldn't stand to lay her arms down before the Soviets, but it had always been about her people, and if she could stop the bloodshed...

But the Germans were now her people as well. She had welcomed them with open arms when her people had nearly been wiped out and they had both lived and flourished among her lands as kinsman.

Let me tell him...

Horthy stared at her, clearly in shock. What?

Let me at least try to explain why I'm stabbing him in the back she grit her teeth with these words I'm leaving him exposed to an attack from behind! I want to warn him, I owe him that much.

Elizaveta! Hitler CAN'T find out about this! He can't you understand?!

She did understand, truely, but she just couldn't bear it. Germany was important to her and she was worried that once she surrendered the Soviets would advance on him and trample his ranks. Against Horthy's wishes she had contacted Ludwig, discreetly warning him about the planned armistice with the Soviets. She had apologised, she had pleaded with him to understand she was doing it for her people, that she truely didn't want to do it but felt she had to and sure enough Germany had advanced to Budapest, occupying her capital. The citizens welcomed his soldiers with flowers and cheers, proud to look upon their 'kinsman'

And Horthy was arrested and stricken from power.

She remembered the day they led him off in chains, they had held his son captive and he surrendered his power, allowing them to chain him and carry him away. He would not even look at her, but she was sure he could feel her eyes on him as he was led away.

A loud boom thundered through the celler causing Hungary to jump, breaking her from her thoughts. She shuddered as she looked around again, her heart seemed to hammer against her ribcage. A sweat had broken upon her brow, despite the cold that hoovered around her tiny form.

She bit her lower lip again, a bad habit of hers. She blamed herself, what if she had just signed the armistice in secret, All of those people would've survived, all those lives were on her hands, and for what, cause she would've felt guilty. What if Horthy had been right, to let your personal feelings control your actions would only bring upon disaster.

And disaster had struck and she blamed herself entirely.

She jumped as she heard a creek above her, someone was entering the building above her head. Warning bells went off in her mind as she listened to the footsteps over head. Could it be her captor? Her eyes narrowed as she watched the stairs, she could almost feel a burning inside of her, the anger and loathing she felt for her captor that would surely be coming down those steps.

She pushed any further stray thoughts from her mind as she prepared herself to meet whoever it was. Her lips pressed in a thin line, her long golden hair in disarray around her dirty bloodstained face, her eyes glinting dangerously. Let them come, she would not falter.

Sure enough Ivan appeared, she knew it was him even in the darkness. The giant towered over her as he stepped in front of her, and though she couldn't yet see it despite the faint light that shown behind him, she was sure the bastard was smirking at her.

“Hello again, Elizaveta.”

She peered up at him, the dim light glinting off of her defiant gaze. She would not falter, even if it seemed hopeless. She would remain strong.

“Sorry I had to run off and leave you alone like that. I had important things to see to. But now that all of your soldiers have been either killed or taken prisoner, and your capitol destroyed, I think we have time to talk.”
Her jaw tensed, but she held his gaze, determined not to falter under those violet orbs.

“You do want to talk to me, don’t you?”

"Do I have a choice?" her voice broke, having not used it in awhile, but firm, she drew her knees up closer to her body as if it were a shield of some sort, but she refused to notice. "Have you come to gloat? Laugh at how you bested a woman? How strong and powerful you are and how foolish I am to defy you? Mit akarsz tõlem te szemét?(Hungarian: What do you want from me you Bastard?!)" Her anger and hopelessness was surfacing and she snapped her mouth shut, determined to remain strong. She would be lying to say she wasn't intimidated, but she was brave, or stubborn, one couldn't be sure which anymore.

[Russia]

There was such an overpowering defiance in Hungary’s gaze. Without doubt, she would be a tougher opponent to crack than many of Russia’s previous conquests. Not that he minded at all. Sadistic individual that he was, he loved it when they tried to be defiant and refuse to accept Russian rule. It made it all the more fun when they eventually broke down into submission. Which they always would in the end.

"Do I have a choice?"

Of course not. You’re a prisoner of war, why would you have a choice in anything? Instead of verbally confirming this however, Russia answered with a gentle laugh. The Hungarian’s body language and voice- no matter the rebellious undertone- seemed to Ivan to be a unmistakable sign of fear and defense. Being chained to the wall, he had to wonder why she even bothered. He had won their little fight, and now he could do whatever he chose to with his new prisoner and there was nothing she would be able to do to stop him. No matter how much of a defensive posture she tried to retain.

"Have you come to gloat? Laugh at how you bested a woman? How strong and powerful you are and how foolish I am to defy you? Mit akarsz tõlem te szemét?

Why would besting a woman be any different than besting a man, as Hungary seemed to imply? Russia had tons of women in his army, and he knew from experience that they could snipe just as well as any man could. He had many faults, but chauvinism was surprisingly not one of them. Because of that, he was certainly just as proud to have bested a woman, as he would have been to best a male adversary. Besides, Hungary had fought well enough, given her position. Of course there was a certain amount of gloating involved in his visit, he had just defeated another enemy after all, it was his right to gloat. And of course, the results of the battle pretty much spoke for how powerful Russia was. Hungary would be blind not to notice the fact that her beloved people were dead and that she was now a prisoner of the Soviet Union.

Mit akarsz tõlem te szemét….? Silently, he considered the foreign words, trying to get some sort of meaning out of them. It was not a language he was overly familiar with. Sure, he had heard similar sounding sentences out on the battlefield not long ago, but he was not sure what they meant. It seemed to be phrased as a question though. She must have been inquiring as to what he planned on doing next. It would make some sense, given the situation.

“Telling you would ruin the fun. You’ll find out soon enough anyways I imagine. Better yet, why don’t you guess?” Russia seized on the opportunity to turn the confrontation into some sort of fun, exciting game. Making people and nations alike guess what was about to happen to them or their friends could be so much fun. They could usually never guess correctly either, especially if they were trying to figure out what Ivan himself was planning. Even Toris, who knew him probably better than most, was hesitant to want to participate in these guessing games. Russia gave his female prisoner a playful look.

“Who knows, if you guess correctly, I might be willing to let you out of those restraints.” he offered jovially. He didn’t really intend to follow through with that offer. Not yet anyways. The metal cuffs highlighted the fact that Russia was in charge here, and that he held all the power . Plus there was a certain thrill to the sight of an old enemy in chains. Even if she were out of those cuffs though, he was sure that he could stop her from any wild escape plans if she made them. She was still weakened after the ruin of her capitol, and all the fighting. There was no way she could overpower him if he grabbed onto her. But maybe if she thought she had a chance to get free, she would rise to the bait and humor him with a guess.

Ivan‘s eyes widened as a thought struck him. “Even better, answer me in Russian if you can. Since you’ll need to know it now anyways, now that you’ve fallen under Soviet control.”

[Hungary]

“Telling you would ruin the fun. You’ll find out soon enough anyways I imagine. Better yet, why don’t you guess?”

Elizaveta peered up at Ivan, a scowl marring her lovely features. She held his violet gaze thinking that right now she would want nothing more then to gouge one of his eyes out of his skull. Unfortunately the chains would keep her from acting out such a fantasy, the brief thought made her smile faintly in spite of herself.

She went over the words in her mind, there was no way she was going to play any of his mind games and she figured she would have to be cautious especially in the dire situation she was in. She stared at his face, but it was cloaked in shadow and hard to read. She would most likely have to wing it, and watch she not step on the cracks.

“Who knows, if you guess correctly, I might be willing to let you out of those restraints.”

She blinked at this, now he was toying with her, he had to be. Either that or he was full of himself. Probably thinking she would be too weak to make a run for it. Even so, the first chance she got she would be up the stairs in a heartbeat, either that or she would jump on him and strangle him with his own scarf. Well now that would be quite a venture but she was certain the Russian could overpower her easily, running would be her only option.

“Even better, answer me in Russian if you can. Since you’ll need to know it now anyways, now that you’ve fallen under Soviet control.”

She snorted at this, a sneer touched her lips as her chin jutted upwards defiantly. Her emerald gaze darkened as she strained slightly against the chains.

"Idióta! (Hungarian: Idiot) I don't know your disgusting language nor would I have the desire to speak it if I did. You have won this battle yes, but as long as there is one Hungarian breathing life into me, I will resist you!"

Many had been taken prisoner by the Soviets, she was aware of this, however there were still many that had escaped, many that carried the hope of her kinsmen alive. She passed a silent prayer for those souls. Before the Soviets had arrived several had fled already over the border. They would've fled to familiar territory and she hoped they were able to make it to Roderich.

please Roderich please.....keep them safe....

Her mind went back to her captor as she watched him coldly. Let him play his mind games, she would be no part of it. "I'll see you out of my lands Démon, I swear it" she glared at him fiercely.

[Russia]

Instead of being thrilled at the idea of possible freedom, his lovely prisoner only seemed to become more defiant; the emotion showing up in her features and body language as she struggled briefly against the chains. Ivan just shook his head. No good could come from this continuation of defiance. All Hungary was doing was wasting her energy.

"Idióta! I don't know your disgusting language nor would I have the desire to speak it if I did. You have won this battle yes, but as long as there is one Hungarian breathing life into me, I will resist you!"

He gave her an almost pitying look. She would obviously need better motivation than potential freedom to convince her to play his games. Or maybe it was simply that she realized that her Russian master had no real intentions of following through with his promise. Whatever the case may be, there were better ways to motivate people than words. Over the course of his bloody history, Ivan had acquired something of a talent for using aggressive, painful means to get others to submit. As far as he was concerned, words were harmless, whereas the threat of pain usually got better results and at a quicker rate.

"I'll see you out of my lands Démon, I swear it"

He was a demon now? All because he had killed her people and crushed her capitol? He wouldn’t be the first demon then. That was what happened in wars. Had dear Elizaveta been expecting him to take it easy on her and risk losing more of his own people in the process? What a silly idea. She was the enemy and would be shown no more mercy than any other foe. If that made him a demon, then all the great nations of the world were demons, because all of them would have probably done the exact same thing he had done. Russia himself preferred to be thought of as a fierce warrior of the people. Not some wicked beast with horns and hooves.

“You don’t know Russian yet? No worries then, I’ll teach you later on, and you’ll speak it if you want to spare yourself and your people some pain.” Closing the distance between them and kneeling down in front of her, Russia grabbed Hungary’s chin and jerked her face up to better examine her soft features. “You’re in no position to being swearing to anything right now. You’re Soviet property.”

He released her chin, a thoughtful expression forming on his boyish features. How should he break this one? He knew what his Red Army would do with such a pretty, young looking woman; he was not so naïve as to be left questioning where they drug these young pretty girls off to after each new conquest. But rape was not something that Russia himself made habitual. He saw no harm in it on occasion, if the situation called for it, but more often he preferred less carnal and more outright sadistic methods for hurting and humiliating his conquered foes. Not to say that Hungary wasn’t a beautiful woman. She certainly looked rapeable enough. At least for the time being however, the violet eyed sadist was much more interested in being half-way inventive.

Russia’s gloved hand slid into one of his coat pockets. He was well armed of course. Being in the middle of a war, it would be crazy not to be. Regrettably, his handsome bolt action rifle was not currently with him, having been left near the remains of a destroyed building after running out of bullets. Still with him however, was his trusty Tokarev pistol, and a pair of wickedly sharp combat knives. All of which had the potential to be fun for any sadistic ideas that he may come up with. His fingers tightened around the NR-40 Scout’s knife-his favorite of the two blades-and he withdrew the weapon, displaying it for Hungary to see.

“Since you didn’t want to play the last game, Elizaveta, let’s play a different one.” His smile taking a more wicked appearance, Ivan pushed the blade up close to Hungary’s throat, the very tip of the knife barely touching her flesh.

[Hungary]

“You don’t know Russian yet? No worries then, I’ll teach you later on, and you’ll speak it if you want to spare yourself and your people some pain.”

Her body tensed as he moved in, moving backwards slightly till he grasped her chin in his hand. She met his gaze once more, kicking herself for the brief show of weakness. She had to stay strong. For all those who had died she could not break. She met his gaze bravely, her own alight with an enduring intensity.

“You’re in no position to be swearing to anything right now. You’re Soviet property.”

She scoffed at this. Continuing to hold his gaze as she tried her bonds again, the cold metal digging into her flesh uncomfortably. "Like Hell I am rohadék!" (Hungarian: Bastard) She stopped struggling as he drew closer. She could see his face more clearly now and the look he was giving her sent a chill up her spine. Her eyes widened slightly as she studdied his face. One could not believe at first glance this man was a merciless killer. A man who seemed to revel in pain and blood. But his gaze was deffinately the most chilling and the more she stared the more unnerved she got.

She wasn't willing to admit she was affected however. Her gaze narrowed as he drew back reaching for something in his pocket. She shifted her legs to a more comfortable position, or more so bracing herself for whatever was coming next. That look he had given her still burned in her vision. She tensed again as he pulled the knife out and brandished it in front of her, the dim light glinting off the sharp blade.

“Since you didn’t want to play the last game, Elizaveta, let’s play a different one.”

And so it begins, bad things were about to happen, she had read it in his eyes and now he had a weapon "nem a legrosszabb!" (Hungarian: Do your Worst!) she hissed the words at him, anger, or was it desperation that now seemed to bubble to the surface. Hungary was no stranger to pain, the Mongols had been vicious and tormented her as they killed off her population. Little by little it felt as if chunks were being ripped out of her and even now her body was wracked by the pain and sorrow and fear of her people. She had died many times in her lifetime, spending a chunk of her life at war and defending those she cared about from enemies.

No she was no stranger to pain and suffering and she once again locked her gaze with Ivan's determined to show him she was not afraid of him, determined to show him she could still fight. That the will was still there. Even now as he held the blade to her throat, if he was seeking fear she would NOT give him the satisfaction. The last thing she wanted was to give him the satisfaction of surcombing to her helplessness and whatever torture he was plotting.

She tilted her head back slightly as the blade drew threateningly close, she inhaled a sharp breath, her gaze shifting towards the hand that held the blade before meeting his gaze once again. A haze passed over the emerald orbs, a wave of anger and loathing of all of it, of the situation she was in, of the man in front of her, of this damn war.

She almost didn't realize what was happening as her body broke into action, her leg swung up, kicking at the arm that held the blade, her body spun in a half arc, the clatter of chains skittering across the floor as she suddenly threw her body into Ivan!

"Seggfej!" (hungarian swear word)

However, when induced to rage one does not think of the situation that they are in and sure enough the chain went taut, almost yanking her off her feet. She gasped as the metal collar dug into her wind pipe causing her to fall back onto the dusty floor. Coughing, she struggled upright, trying to catch her breath, just another annoying pain to add upon mounds of others and those she would soon be sure to endure. She quickly looked back towards Ivan as she tried to recover quickly, again struggling against her bonds. Grunting in exertion and frustration. She had to think! There had to be a way to get out of this! She had to keep trying! Those thoughts burned her mind as she struggled, reguardless of how feeble it really was.

[Russia]

"nem a legrosszabb!"

Though the meaning of the words escaped Russia, the tone did not. Someone was not in the least bit happy to switch games. His Hungarian prisoner really should have just humored him and played his guessing game, then at least it would have taken him longer to get to the actual torture part of their meeting. In spite of the physical pain she was doomed to face, Hungary’s fearless expression remained the same.

The sudden burst of movement from his lovely captive took Russia by complete surprise. He had not been expecting someone in her position to be so brave as to try and fight back. Not after the humiliating defeat she had not long ago suffered at his hands. A jolt of pain went through the overly cocky Russian’s hand as Hungary’s foot connected with it, sending his precious knife flying out of his grasp. In a state of surprise, Ivan didn’t have time to draw his other weapon, or contemplate the strange Hungarian word that had been uttered. To him it seemed, no sooner had the blade been liberated from his hand before Hungary herself lunged into him, forcing some of the air out of his lungs.

In her eagerness to tackle him, Elizaveta must have forgotten the fact that she was still chained to the cellar wall. Catching his breath again, Ivan watched in amusement as his prisoner was choked by the metal collar and fell to the floor. Struggling against her bonds like some sort of trapped animal, Hungary seemed to embody desperation. Russia rewarded her efforts with a slight laugh. Her fiery disposition and insistence on fighting promised to make the encounter all the more exciting.

He had to wonder if she knew how good she really had it simply having to deal with him. Her people that were being marched off right now were probably going to have it much worse. Besides the rapes and beatings - which were certain to happen to many of them- there were the Gulag camps to consider. If her people ended up in one of those, there was a good chance that many of them would not make it home. The work camps where they sent the prisoners of war usually had the most strict regimes of them all. Not long ago, many of them were to the point where they couldn’t even feed their prisoners. It was not a pretty sight. Ivan himself had not been there first hand to see how the prisoners of war were treated, but he had heard stories. If Elizaveta’s captured soldiers were lucky, the camps would have dropped in mortality rates since then.

“Someone’s feeling feisty tonight. And here I thought I had beaten the fight out of you earlier.” Russia’s eyes drifted to the floor, searching for his favorite knife. He still had the other blade if he needed it, but his scout’s knife was his favorite by far and he would hate to lose it. He had slit the throats of many Germans with that blade. It had sentimental value. A glint of silver in the dim lighting caught his attention and he rose from his kneeling position to retrieve the blade from besides a sack of flour.

Knife back in his sore hand, he returned to where Hungary was chained, this time opting for a different, approach. Shoving his left forearm up right under her chest, Ivan forced Hungary back against the wall, trapping her there and setting one of his heavy boots down on her foot to keep one of her legs from moving too much or kneeing him in a lower region. He had been careless before, but he was going to have to exercise a little caution if he didn’t want to lose his knife again, or suffer a more painful blow. Playfully, he pressed the scout's knife against Elizaveta’s right cheek, dragging the blade across her skin and giving her a shallow cut. He swiftly made a similar cut on her other cheek to match.

“See what happens when you don’t play nice? However, I am a reasonable, civil nation. You can get me to stop, if you stop being so foolishly defiant. Soviet rule does not have to be so bad for you.” The deranged Russian ran the knife up under her chin once more almost as though he were trying to tickle her with the blade. Applying some more strength to the weapon, he pressed it into her skin until a bead of blood formed.

[Hungary]

Elizaveta still tried to recover, hacking and drawing in precious gasps of air. Realization had dawned on her, what she had done was very very stupid. She had been so angry and had lashed out in that anger and now was even more closer to whatever fate was in store for her no matter how horrific.

“Someone’s feeling feisty tonight. And here I thought I had beaten the fight out of you earlier.”

She glanced up to see Russia pick up his knife and make his way back towards her. She scrambled back, trying to keep distance between them but found herself pressed against the wall as Ivan pushed her back against the cold damp surface. She gasped, her body shuddering against his arm as the cold seemed to chill her to the bone, or perhaps it was the look in his eyes that chilled her so.

She bit her lower lip as she struggled a bit against his grasp, but Ivan merely pressed harder, a dull ache surrounding her ribcage as he slid his boot to hold her leg down. Her emerald eyes widened once more as the knife drew close to her face. Her lips parted with a sharp intake of breath as she felt the cold metal slice into her flesh, sliding smooth like a hot knife on butter. She cringed as a sharp pain shot through her face, her eyes widened in slight shock. She pressed her head back against the wall, trying to steel her mind against the annoying little pain, it was just a shallow cut, a taste of what was to come, but she was already in pain from the abuse of her people and lands if not to mention the humiliation and disappointment at failure all wrapped into one little ball in the pit of her core. She grit her teeth as he slid the blade along her other cheek, a soft hiss escaping her mouth as another wave of pain traveled through the contors of her face.

However she still peered up at the sadistic Russian, a fire in her eyes, blood slowly oozed out over her smooth cheeks, dripping down her neck and staining the collar of her tattered uniform, but the green eyes burned into Ivan.

I wont cry out! I wont scream! I wont give him the satisfaction. I hope you burn in Lucifer's fire you bastard!

She chanted the phrases in her mind, she was helpless, she was stubborn, she was defiant till the end. He could do his worst, but she would live on, she would heal. Her people once again would pull themselves out of this turmoil. Time was one thing a country had plenty of.

“See what happens when you don’t play nice? However, I am a reasonable, civil nation. You can get me to stop, if you stop being so foolishly defiant. Soviet rule does not have to be so bad for you.”

She watched him as he slid the blade along her throat towards the bottom of her chin, pressing the metal once again into her flesh, feeling it pierce the soft tissue, it was still a tease, not quite the full plate, a tactic to cause fear perhaps? But perhaps the Russian didn't truely understand who he was dealing with here...

She tilted her head up slightly, her lids slid down over the green orbs as she took another breath before opening them again, the fire still there. A smirk touched her lips then, unafraid, almost...taunting him, daring him. "Nor does it have to be at all..." she murmured, rather darkly for such a sweet faced lady. "I do not fear whatever you think you can do to me. My body has been subject to many pains in my lifetime and this is no different. My people still live and that's all that matters. We are fighters, we are survivors and you better pray I dont find a way out of this, because I will deffinately be returning the favor once I get the chance."

[Russia]

Russia’s victim took the shallow cuts in stride, daring to go so far as fixing him with a taunting smile. Here was a girl who knew how to stand up to torture. She was not at all the quivering, fearful mess that his subordinates tended to turn into when he was administering punishments on them. With someone like Lithuania, a few shallow cuts would have been more than enough to bring about pleas and perhaps tears. The dynamics between himself and his subordinate countries were different though than with Hungary. Elizaveta had not yet learned that to do anything other than play along with his ideas was folly. She was too proud. He would have to step it up a notch to teach her where she fit in now that situations had shifted.

"Nor does it have to be at all..."

Russia merely watched her with curiosity as she went on with her rant about being resilient to the pains that he was going to put her through, and her people being fighters and survivors. The feisty Hungarian went so far as to threaten her captor at the end with revenge. It was all very entertaining, but not at all likely as far as Ivan was concerned. Gazing at the chained, seemingly defenseless woman in front of him, it was really hard to fear retribution of any kind; or even imagine such a thing. Hungary’s threat would have perhaps had more effect if she didn’t look as helpless as a kitten at the moment, given her position and condition.

“This pain will be no different? That doesn’t sound fun at all. We’ll have to see if I can liven things up then and prove you wrong about that.” Keeping her pressed against the wall, but removing the knife from her chin, his eyes darted to the chains that bound the female nation’s wrists. As it was, Hungary didn’t have to worry about her weight resting purely on those uncomfortable metal shackles. Perhaps taking away that basic footing would help with her defiance as well. “Elizaveta, threats from you are almost cute.” Altering his hold on the blade, he stroked her bloody cheek with his knife hand, trailing the blood after his fingertips and down towards her chin.

Russia’s attention turned to the metal restraints again. Removing his arm from pressing against Hungary’s ribs, he focused his attention on the heavy ring that held the chains to the wall. Placing the still bloody knife between his teeth temporarily so that he could use both hands, he set to work unfastening the chains and temporarily letting them slacken in the ring. The sadistic Russian resituated the wrist restraints so that his captive’s arms were no longer behind her back, but in front of her. Gathering his strength, he wasted no time in pulling the chains, raising Hungary’s wrists up higher and higher as he did so. Being the rather strong nation that he was, it took him no time at all before he had raised the young woman off her feet and had her dangling painfully from her wrists. Even her neck restraint had somewhat tightened with the act, although not to the level that would cause her to pass out from lack of air. He re-fastened the heavy chains in their new position.

Taking the knife back into his hand, he slammed the metal blade into Hungary’s right shoulder, burying it to the hilt. “Do you know why your people are still alive, Hungary?” Ivan gave the knife a slight twist, keeping the same deceptively innocent expression as he did so. “As great of survivors as you claim they are, I would really be worrying about them right now if I were you. Particularly since their nation is being a bad girl right now and making things unnecessarily difficult for me.”

Leaving the knife embedded in Hungary’s flesh, Ivan gave her a reprimanding look. “Unless you are ready to play nice now, da?”

[Hungary]

“Elizaveta, threats from you are almost cute.”

Her eyes narrowed but remained locked on his, she knew he wouldn't have taken her seriously, not with her chained so humiliatingly. He was touching her then. Reaching up and running his fingers over her bloodied cheek. She tensed, turning her head away from him disgusted, yet in no position to demand otherwise.

He moved, removing his arm from pressing against her ribcage. During this brief reprieve, Hungary took a moment to focus, trying to ward off the pain that ravaged her insides. She glanced around the room but found nothing that could be of any help to this dire situation. Another pang of distress hit her as she realized she truely was helpless.

She stiffened as she heard the clatter of chains behind her, her head jerked to the side just as they began to lose slack. She saw Ivan unfastening her bonds and her eyes widened in shock. She swiftly began to move, trying to get up despite her body's protests, but was yanked back as Ivan yanked the chain, sending her into the wall with a painful grunt. She gasped as her bound wrists shot up into the air above her head. A wave of pain flowed through her body as Ivan pulled the chain lifting her off her feet. She grit her teeth against the pain that raked her body, the metal cuffs digging into her wrists as she hung helplessly against the wall. Her head fell back and glanced up at her hands, the metal threatening to cut into the tender flesh.

Her chin dropped as a flash of movement entered the cornor of her vision, before Hungary could register what was happening a sharp horrendous pain pierced her shoulder. Despite her efforts a loud cry of pain broke her lips. She then realized he had stabbed her in the shoulder, burrying the blade to the hilt. She clenched her jaw shut as she fought back the cries of pain. It was immense and her mind began to enter into that frantic state again. She clenched her eyes shut as if it would shut her out from the dreadful reality she was facing. She drew in ragged breaths once her cries died but still continued to gasp in pain.

Won't give in....won't...can't...

But these thoughts were fading with her resolve and the thought that it was only going to get worse struck as if hit by a bullet.

“Do you know why your people are still alive, Hungary?”

He was talking again, but she wasn't even trying to listen, still trying to regain control, to fend off the pain. It was then he twisted the blade eliciting another cry of pain from her battered form. Her chest heaved with painful gasps of air as she threw her head back trying to endure it as best she could.

She tried to think, anything to get her mind off the pain and what horrors was being inflicted on her body, for it was not only her pain she was feeling but that of her people, so much pain and suffering, enough to bring a weaker nation to a crying pitiful state. But Hungary was still strong. She was a warrior, she always had been and she was determined to remain as such. Her mind steeled once again she began to recall things in her past, things that were important to her, things she was proud of, things that gave her life great meaning. People she loved and cared for. People she would fight and die for. She shut out the cellar, the chains, the cold, even the monster in front of her. She grasped at these memories that seeped into her conscious. The pain was now a beacon for her to endure this ordeal.

She saw many flashes in her mind. Running through the plains as a child, falling among the grass, breathing in the fresh air, gazing at the sky in wonder. The sounds of hooves thundering across the plains. She could almost feel the breeze that caressed her tiny form.

She remembered her times with the Teutonic Knights. Sparring with Prussia under a bright sun. Defending her lands against the Cumens. Days spent talking under the shelter of trees.

She remembered times spent in Roderic's house. Simple, calmer days she spent with him, Italy and Holy Roman Empire. Doing chores with the young nation who had become like a son to her. Days spent learning how to bake marvelous treats and picnic in the fields with her family...She rembered the music, such beautiful music that came from the glorious piano.

Her wedding day, bright and glorious, clad in fine white silks and lace. Paraded around the nobles, bowing and dancing. Hands joined with her beloved.

Seeing Germany off as he began Barbarossa after successfully taking Yugoslavia, a bit worried at being left behind but sending off well wishes all the same...

“As great of survivors as you claim they are, I would really be worrying about them right now if I were you. Particularly since their nation is being a bad girl right now and making things unnecessarily difficult for me.”

His words interrupted her thoughts and she manged to turn her head to look at him again.

“Unless you are ready to play nice now, da?”

Despite it all she sneered at him, her gaze challenging, "And here I thought we were just getting started...." it hurt to chuckle, but she did, despite her body's protest she refused to show weakness in front of her enemy. "As I said, till their last dying breath I will resist you." Her head leaned back slightly and she began to recite a verse.

"To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak; I have become all things to all men, that I may by all means save some."

It seemed to be a sort of reassurance to herself. A form of comfort perhaps. Or maybe the thought that it all still stood for something. She looked back at him, a forced smile on red lips "Is that all you got Russian?" she spat at him as her gaze returned to that of fierce determination.

OOC: I originally planned to do some flashbacks but realized they would be too long and I would have moved other characters. So opted for just brief recollections.

[Russia]

Hungary’s melodious cries of pain had given way to gasps, and then finally a sneer. Just her expression alone made it painfully clear to Russia that no, she was not at all ready to play nice. Apparently, knife wounds and being dangled like a puppet was not enough to break this pretty little thing in. He had to admire her ability to take pain. It was for sure in the ranks of some of the best as far as previous torture victims of his went. Most nations that he was used to dealing with on a daily basis would have been willing to tell him whatever he wanted to hear by now. Anything to persuade him that they had learned their lesson.

"And here I thought we were just getting started...."

He met her gaze steadily, wondering once more why she was putting up so much of a fight just to resist Soviet control. He was a benevolent master, or so he told himself. Life would not be bad for her under his regime. She would be treated decently enough by him; just as his other subordinates were. The Hungarians wouldn’t even have to worry about pesky things such as making important decisions, because Russia would be more than happy to do it for them. So long as they all did exactly what they were told, they could have comfortable lives. Maybe not as good as Russia’s own people, but good enough.

Once again the beaten Hungarian insisted that she would defy him until all her people died. The statement brought about the crazy and violent urge to hunt down every last one of her people and kill them himself. He could never do it of course. There were far too many Hungarians for him to kill all of them. Plus there was the issue of his boss, who would probably not go for hunting down and killing every last man, woman or child in Hungary’s borders. Not because he thought Stalin was overly concerned over their fates, but more because being such a powerful leader, he had to “save face” so to say. The other allies would never approve of mass killings on that level if they were to learn of it, and the uprisings from trying such a thing would probably be too severe.

"To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak; I have become all things to all men, that I may by all means save some."

Where had he heard that phrase before? It was so hauntingly familiar. A religious verse? He had long since given up on such readings, so he could not recall exactly where the verse made an appearance. Not that it mattered. Religion had its roots in capitalist oppression, which only meant that Hungary would need to fully embrace communism itself before she could get such silly ideas out of her head. It had been stated by Marx himself that “Religion is the opium of people,” an idea that seemed to fit Hungary’s desperation appropriately enough. Of course she would turn to such a capitalistic idea under such stress and pain. Hopefully, once she had been under his rule for a bit, she would see for herself how absurd it was to have that kind of faith.

"Is that all you got Russian?"

Ivan slapped her hard across the face in response; the action smearing more blood across his hand and causing a slight throb in his wrist from where he had been kicked earlier. If she was not interested in being civil and nice, then neither was he. His failure to get the results he wanted was quickly making his mood take a turn for the worse. If he was going to fail to get any pleas or admits of defeat and submission out of Hungary, then he would just have to settle for the satisfaction of screams and cries of pain.

“Very well, Hungary. Since you’ve proven to be so difficult tonight, I won’t play around with you anymore.” Disappointed, but still smiling in his usual deceptively serene sort of way, Russia returned the knife to its place on the inside of his coat and withdrew the Tokarev pistol instead. Cocking the weapon, he first aimed it playfully right between the chained nation’s eyes, letting the cold muzzle of the black gun touch her forehead. The action was purely for show and eliciting fear. He wasn’t really planning on lodging a bullet in the other country’s skull. An action like that would ruin all the fun for him. He let his trigger finger tighten dangerously before moving the pistol to aim at one of her arms instead. Leveling his favorite gun, he took a shot at her forearm, just above the elbow.

[Hungary]

*CRACK*

Hungary's head jearked to the side as she was struck hard against the face, the sound of his hand hitting her flesh reverbrating throughout the small dank cellar. She cringed, still feeling the imprint of his hand against her bloodstained cheek, the wound there sending an unwelcome pain through the contours of her face. She turned her head to look back at him, the strike had bust her lip and a thin line of blood trickled from her lips over her chin and down her slender neck to mingle with the blood already there.

Again she smirked at him as if the look would somewhat unnerve him. A chilling stare of her own. A pair of green orbs that seemed to harbor the hatred and want to return all this pain tenfold to her captor. However despite her strong resolve, the body does not always obey the mind and the endless waves of pain was starting to take it's toll on her. Fatigued and battered, the Hungarian wasn't sure how much longer she could hold out against him. Soon she would be striving on will power alone, and somewhere deep inside her gut she wished he would just kill her and end it. True it would hurt but she would be oblivious to whatever could be done to her or the lingering pain that would remain till she would heal and be cast once again into this Hellish world.

But she figured the sick sadistic bastard had that in mind and would prolong her suffering as long as it would take for her to submit. Her gaze darkened but she still returned that unnerving smile, even if he wasn't affected by it, it was still proof that she was far from submitting as he seemed to have wanted from her.

“Very well, Hungary. Since you’ve proven to be so difficult tonight, I won’t play around with you anymore.”

She continued to stare him down as he pulled the gun from his pocket. She blinked, as she thought it could only get worse and worse. Ivan would be prized with a brief look of fear to flash over her eyes, but she stared down the barrel, doing her best to hold a strong suit, her head leaned back away from the intimidating weapon. However if Ivan was anything she interpreted he wouldn't want to end this that quickly and sure enough he was moving the gun to the side, his smile chilling her to the bone.

She heard the gunshot first and then the pain, it was instant and it struck her as if something had hit her with a tremendous force, she couldn't control the yell that emitted from her body, hot liquid spluttered over her face, her body shook with the shock of being shot, sending even more waves of dreadful pain through her limbs. She almost choked on the painful yelps that broke from her bloodied lips.

"COWARD!" She screamd at him through the pain "FUCKING COWARD!" the hate and anger fueled her with new found energy and she kicked up her leg, a strike towards his middle. Trying her best to stay focused, to bear the immeasurable amount of pain she was dealing with right now. She tried her best to strike at him with her free legs, anything to hurt him, cause him pain, she didn't care if it was hopeless, she just wanted to hurt him, her mind was a mess and not quite comprehending the situation properly, but what else could be expected when being fueled on so much hate and pain.

[Russia]

It was hard to say what had been louder, the gunshot, or Hungary’s cry of pain that came right after it. Both of them had echoed off the stone walls of the confined little cellar, leaving an unpleasant ringing sound in Russia’s ears. Being in the thick of heavy battles all the time, it was amazing that Ivan had any hearing left. Tank canons and explosives were much worse than the simple guns, and being around them a lot made him sometimes long for the simpler days when swords were the main forms of attack. The noise was just a small price to pay for their effectiveness and brutality however.

Recovering from the loudness of the shot and screams, Ivan’s cold violet eyes returned to the Hungarian, watching her slender form spasm and shake from the bullet wound in her arm. Dangling there and moving around like that, she reminded him of a puppet on strings. A rather large, beautiful and bloodied puppet, but a puppet just the same. It was somehow inappropriately fitting, since what was she to him anyways other than some toy attained through war? She was something to play with and subdue with no regards to her personal opinions or feelings on the matter. Then she would just be another Soviet conquest, answering to Russia and his boss without any say in her own affairs. But again, he figured she should be happy about that part.

His captive screamed something at him, and for a moment Russia assumed that he must have heard her wrong. What she said sounded suspiciously like the word “coward.” That couldn’t haven’t been the case. He saw no reason for her to jump to that conclusion at all.

"FUCKING COWARD!"

So she had said what he thought she had. He barely had time to feel insulted before Hungary’s foot was lashing out at him, catching him in the abs and pushing him back a little. The blow left him a little sore, but not too much. He was in much better physical condition that Hungary at the moment- her having just lost a battle- and was sturdier by nature. She would have to do better than wild kicks if she wanted to do more than amuse and excite. As it was, the sudden bust of energy and struggles was simply helping to bring out his sadism more. He really wished he had brought his beloved pipe along for the fun. Nothing seemed like it would be more entertaining at the moment than shattering Hungary’s knees with the heavy water faucet.

“Coward? That’s not a very nice thing to say, Elizaveta. Lies will get you nowhere while under my rule.” Standing back a bit, just barely out of reach of her flailing feet, Ivan cocked the pistol again. Where should the next bullet go? There were so many exciting possibilities, but his immediate attention was on her thrashing legs. He took aim for the left leg, trying to focus so that the bullet would catch her right below the kneecap. Unless he had been drinking in excess, Ivan was usually a good shot. He had honed his skills in Stalingrad, taking great glee in sniping Germans from the ruins of the decimated buildings. Shooting his fleshy target at this range would prove to be fairly simple, despite using a handgun.

Mercilessly, he pulled the trigger, the loud shot once again echoing off the walls. Russia was not one to put much thought into things such as gun safety, and the thought that he could miss and end up with a ricocheting bullet did not concern him in the least. By shooting at Hungary against a stone wall, he was putting himself at danger as well. Luckily, his shots had yet to go astray, and Hungary’s new flesh wound added more bright color to her pitiful appearance.

“Whether you openly submit to our regime or not, it really doesn’t matter. You have no say in these things anymore. You’re being foolishly defiant in vain.”

Moving to her side so as to stay out of foot-reach just in case, Ivan touched the tip of her nose playfully with the still warm gun muzzle for a moment. Tightening his grip, he pulled the Tokarev pistol up and then savagely brought the steel barrel down for Hungary’s face in an attempt to pistol-whip her.

[Hungary]

Where should the next bullet go?

"Bastard!" she yelled at him, her eyes were burning with anger. The lust for blood consumed her senses, tearing a hole into her resolve. The pain was immense and messing with her thinking. She had so much rage building inside of her and not just for the Russian. She felt anger at Germany for pulling her into this war, angry at Hitler for making him do so, angry at Horthy for making Košice to personal, angry at Romania for his betrayel, angry at herself for being a failure. Her limbs began to feel like dead weight as blood poured from wounds, weakening her even more, but she still fought on, almost like a cornered animal.

A sharp cry broke from her lips as the second bullet struck her leg, sending another splatter of blood against the wall. The bullet had passed through and lodged in the wall behind her. She threw her head back as a yelp of pain emitted from her battered form. Tears stung her eyes and she cursed herself for her body's betrayel, but she would not let them fall, for the life of her she would not shed the tears of her defeat.

She went limp, dangling in the chains, raising her head to look at him again, but this time struggling to hold her head up just to hold his gaze a moment longer.

“Whether you openly submit to our regime or not, it really doesn’t matter. You have no say in these things anymore. You’re being foolishly defiant in vain.”

He was right, it was all in vain. It was her damn pride that drove her so defiantly and the will of her people to remain independant, but even now there was nothing to gain from this. Yet she continued to struggle, holding on to her wants and beliefs. She had fought, bruised, bled and died time and again to uphold the will and want of her people. She had endured horrors other countries could only imagine if only to keep that part of herself she refused to relinquish. Yes damned pride it was and in the end perhaps her undoing.

She held Ivan's gaze and as she hung there a bloodied broken doll she smiled at him. Ever defiant to the end. She peered up the barrel at him as he held the gun to her face. And now that she felt life draining from her like the blood from her flesh she felt it the perfect time to reveal a little secret.



She smirked at him rather darkly, her vision failing as the exaustion and blood loss began to take over. She didn't know much, but enough to say what she wanted and had heard it uttered among her enemy many a time.

She didn't budge an inch as he swung the pistol at her, hitting her hard against her wounded cheek. The world suddenly went black and her head dropped as she dangled there appearing lifeless.

OOC:
"I will kill you Ivan Braginski."
My computer doesn't support the cryllics but refused to do it phonetically. Sooooo took a screenshot hehehe XDDDD

[Russia]

Looking at Hungary’s unconscious form, limply hanging from the metal shackles, a strange mixture of annoyance, surprise and amusement coursed through the tall Russian. She could have saved herself so much pain if she had only chosen to learn more important phrases in Russian. Such as “please don’t hurt me, I surrender.” Pleading would have gotten her so much farther than the open defiance she had refused to let go of. Not that Ivan wasn’t happy to have someone to inflict pain on. It did leave him with a feeling of contentment and accomplishment, even if he had never succeeded in getting her to fully acknowledge her defeat and new position as Soviet property.

Of course the threat itself did not upset him in the least. That, he had found very comical. Here she was, chained up in a cellar and beaten, and she was making threats about killing him? It was as silly as a mouse threatening a cat. Elizaveta couldn’t have really expected him to take her seriously, could have she? Russia was confident that by the time she had regained some of her strength, he would be even more powerful of a nation. Plus, he loved having subordinate nations under his power, and was not planning on letting her go anytime soon. It would be even more difficult for her to follow through on her threat when she was under his thumb so to say.

Disappointed that the Hungarian had collapsed into unconsciousness already, Ivan pocketed his gun, and made to unfasten her restraints. He could just leave her chained like that; it would serve her right for daring to ally herself with his enemies. But Russia had decided that dragging her back with him to the USSR would be much more humiliating and deserving. Why should he allow his conquest to have the pleasure of being alone in her own capital? As decimated and depressing as the place may be, it was still a part of her. It was better to force her into an unfamiliar setting to help wash away any crazy ideas she might get about continued feeble struggles against Soviet occupation.

Unlocking the metal cuffs, Russia yanked Hungary’s wrists free, supporting her weight with one arm around her middle while he finished unlocking the neck restraint. Finally liberating her completely, he tossed the unconscious woman over his shoulder, not minding in the least the fair amount of blood that the action got all over his light colored coat.

He had no idea how much time had passed while he was down in that cellar playing with Hungary, but by the time he made it outside again, the rain was coming down twice as hard as it previously had been. Though the excess amount of water, mixed with mud and the blood from the corpses of soldiers, made navigating the ruined streets a bit more difficult, Ivan was still able to find his Soviet regiment easy enough. Simply explaining the unconscious Hungarian as a prisoner of war, he and his regiment turned their attention back to preparing for the next step; forcing German forces all of the way out of Hungarian borders.