Life as a King is hard. Especially when you live with a load of siblings who will never understand you.
Russia frowned to himself, staring down and haunching over the multiple maps, patrol reports and letters that had been scattered across the table. His eyes glowed in the dim light of the room, tail swaying from side to side behind him.
He often did these things alone, sometimes joined by his cousins and a few guards who helped him and gave him their opinions on his decisions. After all, how would a Kingdom be mighty, strong and fair if it never listened to its people?
Trailing his claws through the tinted paper he let out a low sigh, tired and dull. Enjoying things these days had been difficult, every day the same.
But becoming more violent every week.
The door clicked from behind him, his ears perking up slightly, not bothering to turn to watch as his two cousins waltzed in. Lithuania always had a dark gaze amongst almost everything, Kazakhstan almost the plain and complete opposite of her. But the two cared for and helped each other, especially in battle and their weekly decision making meetings that had been held in the same room for years.
Lithuania sighed from where she now stood, looking down at the papers with a bored look on her face, her multicoloured eyes glowing softly. One of the few people Russia knew who had heterochromia, not that he minded. It was fairly pretty but he never had the time to compliment them.
Kazakhstan pulled out a file from under his cloak, "I collected this from the North earlier this morning." He said, wings ruffling behind him as he opened it, flicking through the pages with a stiffened look. "Finland's borders were breached last week by Britain's soldiers. But he's been able to fix them up again with his magic and fleet," Kazakhstan said, speaking firmly as usual. His voice never trembling or breaking. Always confident.
Russia listened, leaning back a little and frowning.
"Only a large loss of life for Britain's fleet. But the forest was fairly disturbed." Kazakhstan said, throwing the file down onto the table with the other reports. "When I got there they were still cleaning up and tending to their wounded and the forest. It looked like a blood bath," he said, muttering a bit with a glare down at the file, disgusted.
"Finland will ask for help when he needs it," Russia spoke, tucking his claws behind his back as he straightened his posture. "He doesn't need it yet, didn't ask. So he'll be fine. You know how he is."
Finland. Russia's closest ally and friend. The Prince of the mountains and the King of the snow and ice that he ruled over. The white-tailed deer was what he was. A species every monster laughed at, the species that was seen to be weak and nothing more than a decoration for a winter cabin.
But that Prince had grown with power. Had shown the other territories that he wasn't afraid to fight and shed blood. As long as it was for a fair reason. Russia's alliance with him had gone strong and he respected the deer as much as the deer respected him. The wolf.
To almost every other territory, Russia was seen as a beast, a monster. But he wasn't surprised.
His massive forms and darkened eyes always gave off a bad impression to other leaders, not that he really cared. All it did was make him even more intimidating than he already was. A big advantage.
But the mortal territories hated and feared him. And it seemed impossible for them to change their minds and to at least try to see the truth.
Russia sighed, closing his eyes with a wince as he rubbed at his face.
Kazakhstan frowned upon the sight of his cousin and looked down again at the sheets of tinted paper. "EU isn't very happy with what's been going on. NATO and UN too. Although I haven't heard much from them since the last meeting."
"Britain won't stop. Everyone knows that. He won't give up on his fight until he gets exactly what he wants, "Russia hissed a little, pupils shrinking with anger. "All he wants is mass murder for all of us, what have EU and his little gang done? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Apart from watching from their stupid little rich mansions while downing wine and festering over their jewellery.
Once Britain is done with my Kingdom he'll move on to the other territories."
"Not to forget Germany's territory."
Russia groaned and fell back in his chair, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. "This is shit."
The meeting had gone on for hours and when Russia finally walked out of his study after his cousins left, he was beyond exhausted.
He looked up and down the hallway quietly, almost relaxing when he saw how empty it was.
J̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶r̶t̶.̶
Walking down the hallway he looked over the paintings he passed. The murals, engravings, even just the texture of the different woods. It wasn't too interesting to him, everything so boring and just too familiar. After all, he had lived in his castle for his whole life. Nothing ever changed.
The King walked around the castle aimlessly, soon holding a bottle of vodka in one of his hands, the other swaying loosely by his side. He swigged a bit of the alcohol, sighing in content at the almost burning sensation it gave him. The glass clinked against the tip of his claws as he walked about, his ears perking up as it began to rain outside, pattering against the windows, the sound echoing through the castle. The sound was calming, comforting, almost like a quiet song that rang through his ears.
Russia stopped at a window, drawing away the curtains and staring out towards his territory.
The forest looked dark and gloomy, rain sliding down the window, creating miniature rivers of silver. Reaching up with his empty claw, he rested it on the glass, not even flinching at the ice-cold surface as he leaned into the windowsill, just watching the world quietly as his tail twitched.
He was a lonely man. A lonely beast. Hated and feared by so many people.
It was a tiring life. With no one around him who could really understand him. His siblings and cousins did try to help him, comfort him. But they relentlessly failed over and over again, unable to do anything apart from doing their best to listen to him and his problems. Although he always avoided talking about them when the chance came. His life was already hard enough. He didn't want to make it worse for himself by letting people know just how weak he was.
Russia grumbled and continued to watch the rain, the clouds dark grey, heavy with water. It seemed like a storm was inevitable and he began to wait for the signs of a thunderstorm, craving the flashes of lightning across the sky. He chugged down half of the bottle of vodka he held, lowly sighing at the wonderful taste.
And soon, he almost began to doze off at the calmness and sound of the rain and the quiet whipping of the wind, his eyes closed, dreaming and thinking of things. Thoughts of the forest and mountains and snow washing through his head, drowning away any paranoid thoughts and numbing any haunting memories.
Suddenly, his ears perked and his eyes snapped open, pupils glowing brightly. He swiftly grabbed the window, forcing it open as quickly as he could and whipping one of his claws out towards the forest.
Only to catch an arrow.
The arrow point staring right at him, made with a dark stone, sharpened to perfection. Enough to pierce through the flesh and cause some serious damage at enough speed.
Russia looked out the window, staring out into the forest before he threw the arrow down into the floor, the arrow immediately stabbing the wood.
He leapt out the window, his bear pelt swaying over him as the rain began to beat him, downing down the rest of his vodka before he hit the floor, feet slamming into the wet and dark dirt.
The bottle hit the ground, shattering into a million shards of glass.
The King stared in the direction of the arrow and he smiled when he heard the quick and desperate rustling of leaves and footsteps as the archer retreated. Multiple sets of footsteps began to follow as well and the werewolf chuckled darkly at the sound of it.
His claws sharpened by his sides as they began to turn to black. The colour crawling up his skin, engulfing him with nothing but shadows, sin and something dangerous.
His body morphed, shifting and stretching into something that was unrecognizable, unnatural.
Russia had jaws, dark and sharp teeth glistening as he opened them, a long black tongue flicking.
His tail was bushier, swaying and brushing against the ground, his whole entire body dark black, almost shiny as he growled. Every inch of him covered in a thick coat of dark fur that seemed to be even darker than the night sky. His horns arched by the sides of his head, his rings fastened around their tips, glowing and humming softly with newfound magic.
And his eyes.
Gold with flecks of orange with no pupils insight.
His claws dug into the dirt and he panted lowly, staring towards the forest and listening to nothing but the sounds of his enemy running away.
The smell of fear seemed to fill the air, the rain pattering down around him as shadows emitted and wafted off of his body, slithering around him as he beheld himself and his true form.
A monster.
He snarled before he thrust his head up to the sky, apex as he roared, baring his canines towards the forest. The roar of a beast that was never afraid to hunt down his prey. Never afraid to kill or break the rules that had always been set before him his whole entire life.
The chain-breaker. The earth-shaker.
And with a final grunt, he sharpened his claws before lunging through the grounds of his castle and leapt over the walls that had protected him all his life. Shooting into the forest with nothing but anger, rage, hatred and a lust for blood.
America gradually turned the page of the book he was reading. He leaned against the windowsill in his room, sat on the window bay amongst the blankets and furs and multiple pillows he had been given by Ukraine. It was a comfortable spot, perfect for peaceful reading. Being able to enjoy both the book and the gentle patter of rain from outside.
A sigh of content escaped him and he twisted to the side to reach a mug of tea which had been placed on a small table near to the window bay, taking it carefully and pulling it over until he had it rested in his lap. He wrapped his hands around the smooth ceramic, staring down and watching the steam quietly. The warmth was comforting and America pulled the mug up to his lips to take a sip, enjoying the sweet taste.
He lowered the mug, just enjoying the lingering warmth and sweetness on his tongue before he was suddenly ripped from the serene moment.
A roar shook through the castle and America squeaked, almost throwing his mug onto the floor. He gripped it and looked around with wide eyes before quickly putting his mug and the book on the table, scrambling over to stare out of the window, squinting and staring at the massive form of a monster race out of the castle grounds before leaping into the forest.
The cold window began to fog up with his breath and America pushed himself off of the window bay, heading towards the door quickly, scooping up his cloak which had been discarded on his bed. He clipped it onto his shoulders and over his chest, grabbing his hat.
America opened the door of his room, stepping out and looking around, hearing the thudding of running footsteps and the distant shouts of Kazakhstan from some other hallway. Biting his lip he treaded through the castle, navigating his way through as fast as he could.
Remembering the routes through the vast building had proven to be a difficult job but after some time, America had come to remember specific doors, artefacts, patterns and layouts.
Soon, he was jogging down the grand staircase that led down to the ground floor, the beautiful sets of main doors set out before him.
He hesitated for a moment, glancing around.
He was afraid... of something he didn't know. But at the same time, he was curious to see what had happened beyond the castle walls.
Messing around with the locks had somehow helped America and he was soon able to pull the doors open with a grunt, his right arm stinging and aching for a moment.
The cold air hit him soon enough, rain still pouring down from the sky, drenching everything.
He sighed shakily, breathing out and watching his breath appear in front of him. However, he didn't bother to waste any more time, sprinting out of the castle towards the walls and gates.
Russia galloped after his enemies, golden eyes locked on their small bodies, listening to their gasps for air and their stumbles as they struggled to get away from him. A feeble attempt to escape an inevitable death.
It wasn't long until he was right behind them, close enough to snap his jaws around their necks.
But a quick death wasn't the sort of mercy he wanted to give them. A so-called easy win.
His feet pounded against the ground, slick with mud and blades of chopped grass.
He slashed a claw out as fast as he could, catching four soldiers by their cloaks. Causing them all to tumble to the ground and promptly clamber for their weapons.
They pointed their swords up and crossbows up at the monster, slowly rising with trembling legs and knees that threatened to buckle beneath their delicate bodies.
Their bodies were clad in the uniform of his greatest enemy, with cloaks with the colour of blood and silver little charms that spoke nothing but their faith in purity.
A mockery.
They glared at him but all he could see was the terror that lingered in their eyes.
One of the soldiers suddenly shot an arrow at him in the attempt to blind him, the other three lunging at him.
But Russia wasn't slow.
He caught the arrow, whipping around and slamming his tail right into the stomachs of the three soldiers, causing them to scream and hit the floor with multiple thuds, groaning and shaking as their gripped their bodies. Only bruised.
For now.
And then he looked to the soldier who still held his crossbow, looking down at his partners with horror.
Russia smirked and leapt right onto the soldier, driving the arrow down into one of the soldier's eyes as he growled. He watched the blood with nothing but enjoyment, watching the crimson liquid begin to trickle as he listened to the agonizing screams of the man he gripped onto.
And like he was nothing but a toy, he tossed him over to his brothers who were only just beginning to stagger up their feet, gripping their weapons like their cowardly King.
The soldiers panted, standing their ground, bodies now covered in mud, their uniforms in a mess, their cloaks torn right across the emblem they bore.
The soldier who stood at the front gritted his teeth hard, digging his boots into the mud. "Do your worst, you monster." He snapped sharply.
"But no matter how hard you try.
You'll never be victorious when the end comes."
Russia blinked slowly and smiled, baring his sharp teeth and canines. And a low and demonic voice erupted from the monster's throat, mouth still shut and curved into a smile.
"So you think. But at least I have some things you and your country will never have." He spat, stepping closer to them confidently before he leaned down and stared into the soldier's eyes.
"I have leverage.
And sadly for you, I don't mind gutting cowards like you."
And then, the King straightened his posture, once again looming over them, his large form blocking the light, golden eyes glowing. Savouring the moment.
Rain ran through his fur, mud coating his claws, blood already dripping.
And when lightning and thunder roared behind him, the flash outlining his body.
He struck.