@hetaliamondaychallenge September 28: “Chaos isn’t meant to be understood”.
Category: Fanfic.
Pair: RusSpa (Russia x Spain).
Words: 2.073.
Genre: Historical, Drama, angst, shounen-ai.
Note(s): During the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939) the Sencond Spanish Republic was completely ignored by Europe, while the fascist that had rebealed were helped by some militar forces. Spain was basically used as a test game of the military armament and strategy before the 2WW. The only country that gave real help to the Republic was the USSR. To finance the war, the government spent all the Spanish gold.
1938
With an absolute ill look in his face, Spain, who still liked to considerate himself as the Second Spanish Republic, moved his gaze to the door that opened a few seconds before.
Nations could perceive other nations in a certain rate, so he wasn’t really surprised when the other entered the room; he had sensed him from far away, knowing he was leading to his position. Weary eyes without the so-called typical Spanish shine looked at the other, a little smile crossing his feverish face.
- Buenos días, Rusia.
Right in front of him, heavy, enormous and clearly powerful, the actual leader of the giant Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, Russia, stared back at him with his famous sweet smile. Spain didn’t have known him till a pair of centuries ago, but he knew about this certain characteristic even before personally meeting him. He heard from France, England, Prussia, Austria and even Denmark about this “gentle look monster” that was so big and terrifying in the east.
Anyway, Spain didn’t have really hated this guy even once; he was actually grateful for his performance during the Napoleonic wars, though. If it wouldn’t have been for the Russian forces, France’s troops wouldn’t have retired from his vital territory and he wouldn’t have regained his independence. He sighed, trying to get rid of the thoughts of the past.
He was now, currently, going to lose his independence against his own people, in the middle of the worst civil war he had ever have –and Spain was certainly a country that had endured quite some civil wars-.
A strong ache tortured his mind while he suffered a new wave of deaths. Every time his people died, his body would burn and a painful sensation split him in two. They were dying at that very moment, out there, in the valley of the Ebro, killing each other in a battle that had been going on for months. He nearly cried, but couldn’t afford doing it in front of the power that was standing over there, staring at him with a complicated look in his eyes.
After a few moments, Russia, still smiling even if Spain’s looks were terrible, spoke with a calmed voice. – How are your wounds? –he had asked.
A quick smile was formed in the Spaniard’s mouth, quite ironic.
- Well, my right arm has grown up again, so I can’t complain.
Russia stared at the renewed arm, where a few days ago only a stump could have been appreciated. They, nations, received wounds just like humans but their bodies weren’t actually the same. If they were cut, they would recover; if they lost blood, after resting for a while they’d be up again; if they were burn till ashes, they would start to be reborn just like a Fenix. If they were killed, they wouldn’t die.
Only another nation could kill one.
Even if Spain had lately started to question if a nation could kill itself, just like how he was feeling during these days in which he thought he was actually going to be destroyed by his own people.
Russia’s hand reached him and touched his back. He jumped for a moment, sored. He then relaxed, looking far away and not giving attention to the hands that touched his still bleeding injuries.
When a certain happening was so bad, so traumatic, that it gave the nations nearly-coma state, the injuries would still remain bleeding some time. Sometimes it lasted days, sometimes centuries. Those were produced by the bombing, the Biltz, in Guernica, and they still bleed after a year.
He trembled, just by remembering it. The hand in his back made him shiver in pain, but it was the most comforting thing he could afford to have those days, so he didn’t say anything.
Then, he gained composure and faced the other. - What are you doin’ here, anyway? I thought you were going back at your place for some bureaucracy stuff.
Russia remained silent.
That silence made Spain worry.
He didn’t hate Russia at all. He was nice to him, and every time they had met he could only see a true innocence behind the brute and scary dude everyone saw. He liked him quite a bit, and he lately, during his few peaceful years with a Republic, found out that he was such an intelligent and interesting chat partner. Thanks to the leftist ideology of his government the relations with the Soviet Union had been pretty good, so they had become nearly friends at this point.
He even had became the only nation helping him in this suicidal situation.
During civil wars Spain, normally, stayed apart and watched his people decide his fate. He disliked choosing between his beloved people, so que stayed aside.
This time, he couldn’t.
He had seen what happened with Italy after the Great War. The fascism grow up and ate Ita-chan and Romano completely. The brutality that came with it made Spain shiver from his position in the neighbour peninsula. He didn’t recognise his cute Italian brothers with those black shirts and that dark look in their face. Then it expanded to Germany and developed into the National Socialism, which happened to be even worse. A virus was expanding all over Europe and even reached his brother, Portugal.
Spain could have seen it coming. He even spoke with a few general of the army and old requetés, he tried to create a flexible government just to evade the incoming clash. But it was all in vain.
The military coup happened, and while it wasn’t effective, war broke out.
It may be pathetic coming from a country that used to be a world power but, this time, Spain feared his people. That’s why he stayed with the republicans. That’s why he suddenly started dying from the insides.
And while Spain was in that desperate situation, Europe didn’t mind at all and, trying to avoid a Second World War, signed a No Intervention Pact in which 27 countries swore not to intervene in his civil war. That had broken Spain’s heart, who found himself suddenly isolated and left apart, left to die alone. It was even worse when, even if knowing it, the United Kingdom looked away while the Nazi Germany and Mussolini’s Italy broke that pact and helped the rebels. He couldn’t believe England’s coward attitude.
But it was kinda worst when he watched his closest friends actually attack him, help the fascist rebels.
First, the Italian brothers; then, Germany, Austria and Prussia under the name of the Third Reich. Portugal also attacked the Republic by sending his Viriatos and even the American self-proclaimed Hero’s Ford Company sent help to destroy him. All his old friends were against him. He, on the other hand, only received some fusils from Mexico and a few airplanes from a very scared France, who refused to send more help. The only one who lent him it’s power was the Soviet Union, or preferably Russia.
He still remembered when he had met Romano in the site of Toledo. Romano had been excited, he spoke about autarchy, about having a great colonial empire, and about things such as war being the way through the future. His golden eyes sparkled when he had, for the first time in centuries, hugged Spain.
If you join us I promise we’ll bring this to an end. –he had whispered, while speaking about how great it was being a fascist country.
He had been then, suddenly, pulled apart by a giant body that happened to be his ally, Russia, who looked at Romano with electric violet cruel eyes. Spain could have said something to stop a conflict, but, when he looked at Roma, he couldn’t longer see his cute tomato-like crybaby. In the past Romano would have cried and call him to save him but, then, he held his gaze prideful, strong and dangerous in front of the terrible Russia.
A bombing had made them react and, when he came to himself, he was with the International Brigades heading to Madrid.
Remembering all of that made him feel sick and hided half of his face while looking at the floor with a tired smile.
He suddenly had an urge to vomit, but he managed to stay calm and recover a moment later. – Sorry, I beg you excuse me. My house is total chaos now, no, wait… EUROPE is a total chaos now, haha…! I don’t understand how or why, but it makes me think things a way too much.
- Chaos isn’t meant to be understood.
That statement made Spain stay quiet and, then, he looked with his nearly dead green eyes at the other.
- I’m going to ask again, Russia. –he said, this time, cautious-. Why are you here?
- You haven’t paid me to help you lately.
And if he had frozen before, this time Spain had lost all the blood of his veins.
He started sweating. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t.
- Y-yeah, I-I know… It’s just that all the gold that I’ve been keeping in my reserves has been already taken to Moscow, so I-I…
Russia’s voice was sweet but cold as ice. – You’re not going to pay for my services.
The Spaniard’s eyes opened at his full.
- No! Don’t even think ‘bout that! I’ll pay, I swear it! It’s just that, right now, my people are starving, we don’t have armament and the industry it’s all stopped. I can’t now but, when we win, I’ll return what I owe! A-and I’ll even make it double…! I’ll work hard, I swear. But, now, with all my old gold gone, I…
- So you’re not paying.
The calmed voice made Spain feel like if he were to hyperventilate. He felt like crashing. Like glass about to break.
- I’m not. –he confirmed then.
The taller man stood up, and Spain followed him, clearly desperate.
- Y-you can’t leave me, Russia! If I don’t have your help I’m lost! –after hearing those words the Slavic turned around and faced him, with his so-typical smile in his face.
- So you’ll pay me?
The brunette looked away, clearly ashamed. – I have… nothing to pay you with. B-but I promise..!
- Нет. You can pay me. –response that took an ¿hah..? out of Spain. Russia laughed in a calmed way and then, explained. – Even if you don’t have anything you still possess your body, da?
And Spain’s eyes darkened.
Ah, true. Nation prostitution.
It had been a while.
It used to be so common in the past that he didn’t know why he felt so surprised when Russia suggested it. It may have been ‘cause Russia is fairly younger than himself, or ‘cause the times have changed. He had been so accustomed to it even when he was a child that it wasn’t so much of a surprise finding out that some new power wanted to take advantage of his position to appeal to this. Spain could easily remember when he was forced to be Rome’s or the Islamic Empire’s sex-boy, or even Turkey’s or France’s. Well, he had also been like that with some nations; but, well, let he who is without sin cast the first stone, and he was also a sinner after all.
He looked back at Russia and sighed. – Is this old damaged body worth all the gold I could have had afford to pay you weeks before? –and Russia’s aura became surprisingly pink, just like a happy kid’s.
- And much more! I’m happy so I’ll help you.
And leaned forward to kiss Spain’s forehead. Spain rised an eyebrow, but let him be, anyway. He needed help and Russia was eager to help him only receiving some affectionate touches here and there in return. There were worst things he could have had to do.
Another wave of pain drove him crazy sored and let himself drown in the straw bed he had been using before. He took a deep breath.
Then, when the fever started to be stable again, spoke directly to Russia.
- Well, then, how about a quickie? I have to go back to the battlefield in 30 minutes and I think I could come back quite worse than now, ha ha. –he had laughed, with his shiny –and now tiny- smile.
Russia smiled back, getting rid of his Soviet general military hat while getting closer to the sun-burned skinned nation. He sat, and grabbed the other’s cheeks with a gloved strong hand. That tranquil smile crossed his happy face.
- Let me tell you this is going to be a payment in instalments.
hey anybody like cats the musical. cause i do. Here's romeo aka romano the Opera cat. Romano is his stage name if you can call it that. More headcanons under the cut!
AHEM okay so. Romeo, also known as Romano the Opera cat is a lazy tabby cat. He and his brother, Briciola (yes, the feminine name is on purpose) used to live between the big houses of the italian country side. Sons of a stray cat, the two spent very little time with their mother- just enough to learn how to fend for themselves, or in better words, for Romeo to learn to protect Briciola, as their mother suddenly vanished one day after going on her usual afternoon stroll. The two cats now found themselves wandering off in the streets of southern Italy, in search of a new home, until a good samaritan found them and rescued them. The two were soon adopted as a pair and have never left eachothers side since. Briciola and Romeo were actually well known in their city of origin, as their mother also was. The elderly people used to mistake Briciola for a girl, and somehow the name stuck. Probably cause he was always on the search for the tiniest crumbs of food. Also Romeo has something for the weird cat that lives in the flat on top of the flamenco bar down the street. And little does he know that cat has had his eye on him too, especially when he loafs on the windowsill and starts singing his gorgeous arie for all to hear!
