4. Change

You could still remember your days as a young nation: playing in the bamboo gardens with your many siblings; venturing out into public grounds and associating with your people; laying on the grass at night, looking up at the moon and telling stories about it with your family. Everything was perfect the way it was, and you thrived alongside the country you represented. Then he came along.

Fueled by greed, he strived to conquer your small nation. He wished to take all that you held dear: your resources, your people, your land, your wealth. And that he did. 

He brought war to your peaceful home. Wave after wave of soldiers armed to the teeth were sent to your land, slaughtering your military forces, windowing their wives, orphaning their children, and plundering homes. 

The conflict lasted fifteen years: fifteen long years that you spent rebuilding your people's hope only to have it knocked down; rationing your rapidly depleting resources; begging, pleading, and crying out for help, and throwing away your childlike naivety when it never came. 

And finally, it ended. When his soldiers threatened to unleash a nuclear bomb on your country's most populated area, you were forced to surrender. Fifteen years of anguish and suffering ended, only to make way for a new kind. 

"Welcome to my home, little (Country)~" He showcased an empty, childish smile as he reached the door. You remained silent, digging your chin further into your jacket as you trudged through the snow behind him. 

The door squeaked on its hinges as it opened, the shrill scream echoing throughout the foreboding building. The light tapping of footsteps followed in quick recession; tap-tap-tapping until three figures came into view. 

"W-welcome home, Mr. Russia," the three nations uttered their greetings with quivering lips and shaky knees, sporting an awkward flourish before stepping aside to allow you and Russia to enter. You relaxed your squinted eyes as you stepped into the warm room, inwardly flinching as the door was slammed shut. 

"I am going to my study. Please show (Country) to her quarters, as she will be living with us from now on," Russia spoke as he removed his waterlogged boots, smiling and patting the shortest boy's head. As he turned the corner, the three let out an exhale of relief before approaching you. 

The first: a man with chocolate brown hair and kind, moss-green eyes. "It is good meeting you, (Country). I am Lithuania, but you can be calling me by my human name, Toris." 

Next was a towheaded man with cerulean eyes and wire-rim glasses. "And I am Estonia, or Eduard." 

Lastly, a young boy with flaxen hair and eyes that were a mix between violet and cyan. "I-I'm Latvia, but you can call me Raivis." He lifted a hand to sooth the dull pain where Russia had pushed down his head, small tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. Your cold expression thawed at the vulnerable trio.

You bowed politely at the waist, offering a small smile. "A pleasure meeting you all. As you know, I am (Country), but you can call me (Name)."

~

"(Name)~" 

"Don't call me that,"

"But (Name)~" You sighed as the full-grown man continued to whine, turning your attention instead to the meal you were preparing.

"(Name)~" You ignored him, your fingers a blur as you chopped the vegetables into neat cubes. Eager to finish up dinner and lock yourself up in the guest room, you danced between tasks. "(Name), you look so cute when you hop around the kitchen like that. You're like a little rabbit~"

You skid to a stop. "What did you call me?" You hissed through clenched teeth. 

"Кролик. Rabbit~" The smile fell from his face as the blade of your knife rested against his jugular. 

"What do you see in the moon, (Name)?"

"I see a rabbit, big bro!" 

"Haha, I see it too, aru. But it's late now, so let's go to bed."

"But big brother, I want to look at the moon!"

"But we need to sleep now, aru."

"Fine. Goodnight, brother,"

"Goodnight, my little tùzǐ, aru."

"Don't you ever call me that again," you growled menacingly. A delicate red line left behind on his neck, your arm retracted as you stabbed the knife into the wooden cupboard. 

Silently bemused, Russia watched you finish cooking with a small smirk. Without turning, he spoke to the eavesdropping trio huddled against the doorway.

"She is warming up to me, da?"

~

You released a long exhale, pushing your chair a few inches away from your desk. "Finally done," you murmured, allowing the pen to roll through your cramped fingers. 

Standing up, you collected Russia's newly done paperwork and stood, leaving the room to search for him. When you couldn't find him in his study or in his favorite chair beside the hearth, you approached Toris. 

"He's not in the kitchen or the library, so he must be out in the greenhouse." The Lithuanian brunette said thoughtfully, adjusting the ties of his apron. You nodded, smiling as you thanked him. 

Your boots crunched in the icy snow, each individual strand of hair slashing at your exposed skin like minuscule whips. The door of the greenhouse easily swung open with the hesitant nudge of a gloved finger. "Mr. Russia, I--" Your soft voice trailed off upon sighting the winter country. 

Several meters to your left, he knelt beside a bed of sunflowers, his back to you. "Маленькие подсолнухи, you will grow up big and tall and strong, Да? You will all love me and never leave me like the others..." Although you couldn't see it, you could hear the sad smile in his hushed whispers. "You will be happy to live with me, not hate it like the Baltics and (Name)..." 

All of a sudden, your skin was not cold.

All of a sudden, you could no longer feel the freezing Russian tundra outside of the thick glass walls.

All of a sudden, your ever-present frown fell from your lips, your consistently dead eyes holding a warm gleam. 

And all of a sudden, your arms were wrapped around Russia's torso. 

Muscles rippling, he stiffened at your abrupt contact, struggling to turn around. He stops, though, the instant he recognizes you. His snarl softens when he realizes you aren't a threat, a question in his lilac orbs as he takes in your position: arms wrapped around his torso, cheek resting between his shoulder blades, chin tilted up to look back up into his eyes. 

"What are you doing, (Name)?" He asks, his voice a soft murmur, as if not wanting to disrupt the peaceful moment. He was mildly surprised when you didn't take the moment to chastise him for once again calling you by your human name, even more so surprised when you smiled. 

"Nothing, just," you sighed softly, blood rushing to your face as you buried your face into his coat, "keeping warm."

He nodded, gently loosening your grip to allow him to turn around, pulling you into his lap as he tucked you into his chest. You hummed lightly, lips curved into a warm smile as you closed your eyes and enjoyed his embrace. 

As (Country), you knew you could never forgive him for the things he had done to you in the past. But as (Name), you were willing to start anew with the man who had thawed the ice surrounding your heart.