[Fic] The Violinist, Ch.3

[librasweets]

Title: The Violinist (Ch.3)
Characters/Pairings: RussLat, Ukraine, Estonia, Belarus
Warning: Fem!Latvia, more angst than you can shake a vodka bottle at, mild violence
Summary: Regina Galante is a young and extremely talented violinist, and her life shifts when she meets the influential and powerful Braginski family (idk, lol)


Regina Galante was proving very difficult to track down.

Ivan knew she wasn't in Leningrad, so he tried all over Moscow. The only trace he found of her was the workers at the recital, who only knew she came from a village. That was not only annoyingly vague but troublesome for the servants sent to fetch her. There were such a slew of villages in Russia alone, it'd take months, and Yekaterina was getting more and more desolate as the wedding day loomed on the calendar.

To add more burden to his nerves, Natalya had unwound again. Her mother brushed off his little sister's deranged behavior and blamed it on anything convenient. Stress, people setting her off, whatever helped. Their mother refused anything was wrong with her favorite child, even if it was her Natalya raised the knife to.

His sister had always been unstable, since she was a small child. Their parents played an intense tug-of-war, with their mother wanting Natalya to stay home and their father wishing for her to be in an institution. The latter insisted her bad health would be a scandal if anyone knew. He insisted the government mental hospitals would care for her every need, but everyone knew otherwise.

Whenever Natalya had an 'episode', as everyone liked to say, no guests were allowed. Ivan would be forced to go into his sister's room, the one up in the attic, with its torn wallpaper and broken furniture she destroyed in her crazed stupor. He'd always been fearful of his sister, terrified, since her first episode when she was four. He was twelve at the time, and he remembered vividly how she screamed. Not a child screaming, like a temper tantrum, but wild screeching. She'd spew horrible things, things a little girl shouldn't know. She wanted to kill their parents, kill everyone in the castle. She even turned the knife she got from the kitchen on Yekaterina, who was only trying to hug her and calm her.

He remembered the blood staining his sister's white shirt, and how she cried out but still held tight on Natalya, who was thrashing like something possessed her. He remembered his mother just standing in shock as her youngest daughter cut her oldest again, this time deeper, and the blood dripped on Natalya's nightgown.

He shouted something at Natalya, he couldn't recall what, but it made her stop her third attack and look up. He ran at his sisters, pulling Natalya by her chubby arms and holding her so hard she dropped the knife. He wanted to cry because Yekaterina's sleeves were red, and his mother was screaming louder than Natalya was, and servants were rushing in and running around them. Somehow, he stayed quiet, and looked his sister right in the eye.

"You don't ever hurt family Nataha. Family is all you have. Without them, you are nothing."

Ivan was big for his age; he shook her hard when he was done. He didn't mean to, and he was so sure she'd pick the knife up and attack him. Instead, she stared right at him, her very expressionless blue eyes boring into his soft violet ones. He was fearful, glancing from the knife to her stained nightgown.

Natalya did something he'd never seen her do since that night, she cried.

Her normal childish voice returned and she cried typical baby tears as she covered her face. Ivan was too taken aback to bother to comfort her, so he just stood awkwardly, letting go of her arms.

Yekaterina had been taken away. Their mother scooped the sobbing Natalya in her arms, the two cried together. Her mother ran past him, her nightgown softly rubbing against his cheek. Ivan remembered looking at a pool of blood a few feet away from him.

He didn't recall anything after that, so Ivan wondered if he fainted. He was sitting at his desk now, contemplating that night. Everyone was so proud, claiming he saved Yekaterina, who was hospitalized. He didn't like the idea of saving one sister from another, so he didn't agree their calling him a 'hero'. The next day, Natalya didn't seem to realize what she had done. She knew it was bad, because everyone was avoiding her and looking at her coldly. She couldn't look either sibling in the eye for months.

She had many episodes after that, and for some reason Ivan was the one calming her down. No one else could, not even her doting mother. Yekaterina yearned to do something, but she was understandably afraid, and she was visibly guilty of that. While Ivan wanted nothing more than to stop his sister's screaming, he hated being the one to do it. It was so strange and scary, walking into that room, with blood splattered on the walls (usually her own, or anybody who was stupid enough to get close). Whatever Natalya was wearing would be ruined, because she's rip it. She'd pull out her hair too, or try to rip her nails, or some other insane thing.

It'd only take three minutes and she'd calm down. Whenever he talked, she hooked onto every word he said, even when her mind was relaxed. He'd just tell her to stop, basically, to think about the stress she was causing the family. She'd stop whatever mess she was doing and just stare like a zombie until he was finished. Often, she didn't say anything back. He liked it when she would just nod, take his hand and go to her room where their mother would cry and clean her up.

Sometimes she talked to him. That was the worst. Ivan believed no one knew how sick she was as he did, because the things she saw and heard were things girls did not need to hear.

Natalya told him she'd see 'them', that's what she called these things, the ones that she said talked to her. She knew she was close to breaking down when they'd come to her during the day and their whispers would become screams. It made Ivan's heart hurt that his sister was aware of her own condition, and she always sounded so pitiful when she'd say this. She wouldn't cry, she'd just quiver like a cold animal.

Today he had to go into that room and see his beautiful sister with whatever weapon she got a hold of this time and ripped clothes. She never hurt him, but he was always petrified she would. Years of intense military training and camps were nothing like this.

She was breathing hard; her throat must hurt from all that screaming. He sat calmly in the stool in the corner, his chair, the one she never destroyed. His heart was racing uncomfortably, it got worse when she slowly turning in his direction. She was on the floor, her pale legs and arms bruised and beaten. Natalya had a large bedpost in her arm, swinging it around carelessly, often hitting herself without realizing it. Despite her hazy and spinning vision, she always knew when he came in.

"Nataha, it's time to stop."

She murmured something and looked away.

"You worry mama when you do this. Papa will put you in an institution."

Natalya gritted her teeth. She hated their father.

"You don't want to go there, little Nataha. They'll lock you in a cell, like a prisoner."

Her gritting became louder and she dropped the bedpost. Her body was having difficulty between swaying like a drunkard or twitching and fidgeting like a seizure patient.

Ivan was going to continue, but stopped, mentally scolding himself for speaking so plainly. These were things he told her when he didn't want to deal with her, and she looked worse than usual.

"Are they here Nataha? Them?"

She snapped her head up at him, and he felt himself jump. His fear subsided when her crazed look was traded for a very scared expression, her eyes wide. "Da. Da, Them is here now."

"Where?"

"On the walls," She tried to suppress a shudder. "Climbing on the ceiling, watching me."

"Right now?" He glanced at the ceiling, since she was staring so intently at it. Of course, nothing was up there except the lights, but she was following something with her eyes. She looked down again, at herself, as if just realizing she had wounds.

"We should get those looked at," Ivan stood up, figuring it was over now.

Natalya was silent, still looking at the ground, tracing an invisible monster that only plagued her. Ivan stepped to her, crouching down. "Nataha, let's go to your room." He took her hand.

That always made her move, or at least look at him. But she did either and Ivan felt panic circling in his gut. What if she lashed out again?

She stared at her brother's hand, examining her thin fingers in his bulky palm. His fingers were much fatter than hers, but her clothes always hung off her frame. "Vanya, I think I need to go away."

Ivan's mouth went dry at his sister's sorrowful voice. She squeezed his hand, "I can't … Put everyone through this… them is always, always getting louder…"

Although he'd always wanted her in a facility, this time he protested, echoing his mother exactly. "Nyet, Nataha! You just need rest, you've been so worried about Katyusha, and it's just stress…"

"It's not stress!" Her voice raised, her face twisted in a sad mix of pain and frustration. "It won't stop Vanya! I hate it!"

"They'll just give you drugs!" He raised his voice too, the mimicking maternal tone completely gone. "Give you so much; you'll be completely thoughtless…"

"I don't want thoughts," Natalya said bitterly. "These thoughts haven't done anything for me."

He swallowed, and that hurt more than it should. He squeezed her hand back, wanting to comfort her in some form, to say she was fine and normal. Ivan was about to spout out these senseless excuses, but he felt his hand get wet. Natalya was crying.

"I want to be admitted today, if I can."

That was several hours ago, this morning. It was late in the afternoon now.

Together, Natalya and Ivan walked down the stairs, which was unusual because he normally took her to her room without anyone seeing. With her ripped nightgown and bruised arms, she was seen by all the servants.

They went straight to their father's room, where he was making plans. He was extremely surprised to see Natalya in this state; he never bothered with her before or after her incidents. Ivan tried to speak. "S-she wants to… She'd like to…"

"I want to go away." Natalya said simply, but she was squeezing his hand so hard his hand was prickling from the blood flow being cut off.

Their father was more than happy to comply; it was as if he was just waiting for this day. In less than two hours, Natalya was cleaned up, her things packed. He had already picked out a hospital for her. Their mother was in hysterics, but she was told to shut up. Ivan tried to tell her she could visit Natalya everyday, but this went through deaf ears. She was enraged.

"You of all people!" She screamed at him. "Throwing your own sister in a prison!"

Yekaterina heard all of this, and he expected her to hate him too. Of course, she wasn't like that. Her look was so understanding and kind, he didn't think he deserved it. She soothed her mother, stroking her hand, insisting they'd go everyday to check up on her. This time, mama listened, but she still sent deathly glares his way. It was much worse for their father, who she turned on and screeched,

"You picked a place out of Leningrad! Some disgusting, small city where the doctors know nothing of medicine! You threw her in a hole full of dirty, ignorant quacks!"

"You're more than welcome to join her," He retorted.

Ivan was finding it difficult to focus on tracking down a stupid violinist when his mind was drifting to Natalya, and her current condition. He wondered if they'd knock her out the second she got there, if they'd even bother to treat her right. She was from the Braginski family, but that might not matter if she were so far away from home.

His heart twisted in discomfort, more guilt. Even if Natalya requested it, he felt responsible. He could've brushed her off, told her to just go to her room and relax. But she'd have gone straight to their father anyway.

He set aside his paperwork and took the bottle of vodka from under his desk. He drank half without realizing it, his thoughts mixing and mudding together like a mosaic. Ivan figured if he drunk enough, he'd not only be comfortably numb, but he'd pass out so he wouldn't have to see his mother in the hall and see her hurt stare. Or his father and have him congratulate him for finally convincing to put Natalya away. Both were hell compared to sleeping on his desk in his military uniform and a piercing headache in the morning.

Regina scrubbed her neck quickly, afterwards dunking the small rag in the bucket of water to get all the soap out. She had woken up late and her mother was calling from the kitchen. If she didn't hurry she'd miss breakfast, and Regina couldn't miss a meal without feeling terribly faint.

She finished tying her ribbon as she came down the stairs. Her mother tsk'd, "Well, that took you most of the morning."

"I-I'm sorry," Regina said sheepishly, taking her seat by Eduard. She piled food on her plate as her parents continued whatever conversation they had before. Regina listened, even if she wasn't sure what they were talking about.

She was interrupted when Eduard gave her a suspicious look. "Are you sure you washed completely?"

Regina wanted to scoff. "Y-yes, of course…"

"Did you boil the water first?"

"W-well, no…"

Eduard sighed. "Haven't I told you to do that? You might as well be rubbing germs all over yourself.

As much as she loved her brother, he was a bit of a neat freak, to the point when he tended to drive their tidy mother up a wall.

"Boiling water would have to cool off, and then it'd take even longer for her to get ready." Their mother shook her head.

"Who knows what sort of disease is in those rusty pipes!"

"She's still breathing, isn't she? Unless you're willing to boil the water yourself…"

"I might as well, since both of you are just as bad." Eduard pointed his fork at his parents, and Regina giggled at how flustered he was getting. He was always lightly scolding the family on things like that, but there was only so much the poor family could do about hygiene.

While her mother washed the dishes, Regina gathered her textbooks, Eduard was readying for work and their father had already left for the construction site. Regina had just put on her shoulder bag and grabbed the door knob when a loud knocking sent her jumping nearly two feet back.

Both her mother and Eduard had curious looks. "Well, open it then," She said, wiping her hands hastily on her apron.

Regina hesitated for a moment, but she put down her bag and did as she was told. She was met with a site that gave her whole body shivers. Eduard was right behind her, and seemed equally bothered, but didn't show it with such obviousness.

They were a pair of a very simply dressed man and woman. The man was clearly older, with a black suite and a leather jacket over that. The woman wore a white dress with tall heels and a similar leather jacket. Her mother hurriedly invited them in, just as anxious as her children. She knew they were not government officials, but they were dressed too nice to be from the village.

She barely got out a 'May I help you?' when the woman spoke. "Is this the Galante residence?"

"Yes, my husband is at work, if this is about him…"

"It's not, do not worry," The man was looking about the house, unlike the woman, who stared forward. "This is about Regina Galante."

Regina flinched and her brother tried to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but that was difficult, what with her shaking. "I-I-I'm R-R-Regina…"

The woman turned to her and gave a stiff smile. "Oh, thank goodness. This search has been very trying."

"Search?" Her mother walked directly in front of the woman, ruining her view of Regina. "Do you want her to play somewhere?"

"Well, yes, in a way." The man took the liberty to sit on the largest chair, the one their father usually relaxed in. "Our master, Colonel Ivan Braginski, would be grateful if you came immediately to his house in Leningrad to play."

The family's mouths must've dropped simultaneously because the man let out a small titter. "Right this minute, of course. We'd like her to start packing so that she may get there as soon as possible."

Regina's head was reeling, but she spoke weakly, "I-I-I have school…"

"You're nearly finished with school." The woman responded sharply.

Her mother was firmer, her words having a lining of anger. "Her duty to her country is her education. The weekend will be a much more convenient time…"

"Her duty is also to serve the government, and that is who Colonel Braginski is," The woman's tone became more biting and her hawk-like eyes narrowed. "We have a hand written letter from him, requesting her presence. His sister, Yekaterina Braginski, wishes for a live performance."

Eduard protested before his mother could, his face glowing from anger. "You can't expect us to just hand her over to people we hardly know!"

The man unbuttoned his jacket, expecting a drawn-out argument, so he figured he might as well be comfortable. "The Braginski family is extremely prestigious and well-known among the populace of Mother Russia," His tone was similar to that of a mother speaking to a child. "She will be in safe, comfortable hands."

"This is not optional." The woman added with severity, wanting to leave the nasty shack as soon as possible.

Her words caused a heavy weight to fall upon the family. Regina took to crying softly, trying to look at the woman, but her courage was failing her. "Pl-please, c-can't I have j-just a week…"

"No."

"How long will she be staying?" Her mother insisted, closed to tears herself.

"As long as Miss Braginski wishes."

'Forever' would be synonymous with that. Regina adored Miss Braginski, she really did, but she couldn't comprehend leaving her village for a mansion in a city she'd never been to. Her mother held and cried with her, but Eduard refused to give up with tears. He grew angrier, his teeth audibly grinding.

"And you believe you have the authority to just take her from her family!"

The woman's lips tightened to a line, and Regina felt her mother's arms wrap around her tighter. She heard her heart flutter painfully, and Eduard seemed to realize what he said, because he stepped back and looked away.

The man was the only one who didn't seem bothered. "We do, boy; our master's authority is leagues away from yours." He stood, buttoning his jacket back up, speaking calmly. "She will be given an hour to pack. We need to make haste; we don't want to travel at night with these temperatures."

That seemed to finalize the deal. Her mother let out a whimpering cry, squeezing Regina in a strong hold. It was returned, and the two fell to the floor in a heap. Eduard stood his face completely blank and pale. He had detached himself completely until their mother sobbed, "Don't stand there! Get your father!"

That took him out of his trance, and he ran outside while the servants returned to their car, ignoring the entire scene.

An hour dragged painfully by, with her mother finally getting up and going upstairs. Regina's shaking was subdued by her hold, and with it gone she felt herself quaking to her bones. All she could do was make blubbering sounds when her mother set down their largest suitcase.

She spoke evenly, dabbing her eyes generously. "I-I packed most of your clothes… A blanket, y-your practice books… Even if you don't need them… Some paper and pens for writing, please do it often…"

Regina couldn't utter a thing, not with her heart ripping in two like this. It was made worse when her father and brother came home, both sweating despite the cold, evidence they ran the entire way. Her mother choked out a fresh sob right there, and before she realized it the whole family was on the floor shedding tears.

The servants came in the second the hour was up. The man took her suitcase, not bothering to hide his surprise at its light weight. Her mother bundled her in a coat and a thick white scarf, the expensive one given to them by their great-grandmother that was only used for special occasions. Her parents showered her with kisses, while her brother gave her the longest and most somber hug she'd ever have in her life.

The windows of the large car were covered in frost, so she doubted her family would see if she waved. Regina didn't want to anyway; this wasn't a grand vacation she'd be returning from. She felt herself regretting ever being so nice to Miss Braginski, but how could she foresee being torn from her family? How could that nice, plump woman even think of such a thing?

Maybe she wasn't nice at all. Regina's heart felt sore at the thought. She swallowed, creating new tears to spring to her already glassy and red eyes. She didn't bother to dab or wipe them away, she felt too miserable.

The large servant man took notice. "Are you just going to mope about the house the whole time?"

Regina felt that statement didn't need a response, but she couldn't help rubbing her face with her hands.

"In my defense, it's not like we have a choice in retrieving you."

You could've said you didn't find me, and left us alone. Regina thought, and an unfamiliar feeling of bitterness took hold of her. She was never spiteful towards anyone, by nature she was a caring and forgiving person. Forgiveness was something she was sure she'd never show this man.

"My name is Boris Demidov; I've been with the family since the 30s."

She made it clear she wasn't going to make conversation by turning her body completely to the window and staring out at it. This didn't stop the old man, who kept talking about the Braginski manor and Leningrad. He talked for some time, only stopping when Regina put her suitcase between them.

He paused, and then outright laughed. "Well, you don't have to like me, but I'd appreciate if you showed the family more respect."

How could you respect kidnappers? That's basically what had just happened, Regina decided. She was kidnapped by the very family she had admired so highly.

---

THE ANGST BEGINS

Poor Regina, she's the heroine and she's getting shoved at the end of every chapter XD This one was sort of unintentionally centered around Natalya... And then not... IDK, I just really wanted to put her story in here before I shipped her to the funny farm. Don't worry, she'll return O:

But in all seriousness, in this story she suffers from schizophrenia. In the 60s, it didn't matter what country you were in, any person with a mental health problem would be thrown in a facility. I wanted to make a change from the typical "brother-I'm-crazy-and-obsessed-with-you" persona everyone tacks on her.

So! Thank you for reading, I'm especially happy since I'm posting this from Puerto Rico~~ XD

O YA EXPECT SOME LIKE TTLY AWESOME POLAND ACTION NEXT CHAPTER