The Violinist (Ch.9)

[librasweets]

Characters/Pairings: RussLat, Ukraine, Belarus, Estonia, Poland, Lithuania,
Warning: Fem!Latvia, Fem!Poland, majoooooor angst
Summary: Poland's past is explored, Estonia attempts to settle in the life of the Braginski family, some new character introductions!


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Regina's restless nights at the Braginski manor had long been over, but Eduard's were just beginning. Like her, he found the size of his room and the finery in it rather unnerving - and he was sure his room was considered under furnished in comparison to the others. As he readied for bed, he thought increasingly of the poor conditions of their farming village and his family's small cottage. They were one of the lucky families that had just enough food to sustain themselves through the winter.

He tried to get to sleep, as he was sure Mrs. Braginskaya would have him running in circles the next morning. The bed was soft and warm, the well-built windows didn't let in any cold, the house didn't creak with age and poor repair. Without the creaking of his mother's rocking chair or his father's heavy footsteps, it seemed eerily quiet. He stared listlessly at the ceiling, impatient and wishing for sleep. It seemed the second he closed his eyes he was being roughly shaken awake.

"Hey! It's time to wake up, Comrade Galante!" A rather loud whisper called.

"Wh-what!" Eduard shot up in drowsy surprise, looking about wildly. "Wh-what's going on-?"

He grabbed for his glasses and tried to focus his eyes. It took him a moment to register someone, a girl, was standing right by his bed. She turned on the lamp at his bedside.

"Oh, good. You're easier to get up than Regina."

Eduard had some difficulty figuring out her accent. "W…Huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Wipe that blush off your face and get ready to check on Natalya. The Family- well, her mother- is expecting you to see her before she goes to breakfast."

"Now? What time is it?"

"Six-thirty. Here's some clothes," She pulled a set of clothes from the large wicker basket she was holding (he didn't even notice it until then) and set them neatly on a small table in the middle of the room. "You're coming to breakfast, too."

"I-I am?" Eduard was seriously hoping she wouldn't stay there and watch him change… "Oh-!" He shot upward and nearly tumbled out of the bed. "Will I see Regina?"

"Da, she plays for the family." The girl stepped back uneasily, giving him a peculiar look. "You can talk to her afterwards, I'm guessing ..."

"Y-Yes, I'll do that!" He had so many questions to ask and concerns to voice. He went for his clothes and somehow got tangled in the sheets and completely fell off the bed. "Ow-!"

The girl sighed and left the room. "Jeez, you're really Regina's brother."

Regina was polishing her violin with Felicja quietly stepped into her room. "Oh, good morning," She looked up from her instrument and smiled.

"Oh, you're already awake?" Felicja set down the basket by the large bay window. "And completely dressed! Is this some kinda special occasion?"

"Well, I woke up early, and I wasn't tired." Regina sat down on the window's seat and Felicja joined her a minute later, holding their breakfasts. Since the wedding, Boris had rather avoidant of Felicja, which the maid took full of advantage of. She took a large helping (which was still small in standards to The Family's) of breakfast for herself and Regina, and they began eating together.

"B-but, I suppose it is a little special," Regina smiled brightly, trying to keep her excitement down, but it was practically radiating off her. "My brother is here! I-I honestly thought I'd never see him again."

Felicja gave her the best hug she could while holding a spoon and a bowl full of soup. She laughed, "I saw him earlier. He's pretty… all over the place."

Regina returned the hug, just as awkwardly and giggly. "He's not a morning person at all! When we were younger, Mother threatened to hit him awake with birch twigs."

"What! You mean the kinds they use in banyas?"

"Da! That didn't scare him too much, and even when he slept in, he'd drink heaps of coffee."

"Gross. A lot of servants drink it, but it's so black and thick." Felicja stuck out her tongue, twisting her face and making Regina laugh. "Oh, Regina, what are your parents like?"

The Latvian girl was rather surprised by the question, but answered it with bright eyes. "W-well… They're very kind and gentle. They have never been harsh to me or Eduard. Because she had children, Mother was allowed to stay home. She always took good care of us, and Father looked after us."

"Did they give you the violin?" Felicja asked, and mentally added, 'Cause it looks a little out of their price range.

"That was a gift from my father's brother…" Regina's mood quickly changed. The quiet man who had given her such happiness during and after his life seemed years and years away. She remembered that she promised to visit his grave every year, and she had, but…

"Regina? Are you okay?" Felicja put her hand on the girl's shoulder, noticing how downcast her eyes became. "I'm sorry, did I ask too much?"

Regina shook her head quickly. "N-no! I-I just remembered… W-well, he was my confident, a very good friend. I could tell him anything and he'd always listen. He gave my violin to me when he passed away."

"O-oh," Felicja frowned awkwardly. "I didn't mean to bring up anything."

"It's fine! Actually, I thought…" The small girl had set her food aside and began squeezing her hands together in anxiety. "I-I was just thinking… at the funeral, I promised him I'd visit him every year."

Felicja was about to say something along the lines of, 'That's kind of you', but quickly stopped herself. She sighed in realization, "Ah…"

"Y-yes… he's resting in my village, far from here…" She bit her lip and squeezed her hands. Memories of her yearly visits began coming back, and she recalled the comfort she felt when she saw his well-kept resting place, with the same, aged oak tree shading him.

On the first anniversary of his passing, she planted daisies around that oak. Every June, they bloomed proudly and beautifully. The wide, blue sky would be fresh with clouds and a light breeze; the air would be clean and carry a light scent of the snow-white daisies. She would sit under the shady tree, and she'd begin talking. As time went on, these talks became lighter, with fewer tears. And before she left, she'd play him a song, or sometimes several.

These were her secret, personal yearly visits. It was during the winter when the whole family went together, because that was the only time when Eduard and their father were able to get time off. Regina didn't find the cold snow and the bare limbs of the oak tree flattering to her dear uncle, and she felt he wouldn't like to see his only remaining family somber and in tears. Early summer was a much more suitable time for Raivis, for that's when he was at his happiest, despite his many hardships.

"R-Regina! Are you okay?" Felicja's sharp voice completely pulled her out of her reminiscing.

"Wh-what!" Regina jumped, staring wide-eyed back at her friend. "S-Sorry, w-was I-?"

"Yeah, you were out of it! Jeez," With her apron, Felicja wiped away the tears on the Latvian's face; Regina hadn't even noticed she was crying. "You really scared me. I thought I upset you- well, I did, didn't I?"

"Ny-nyet, I was just remembering!" Regina tried to wiggle out of the maid's grip, as the apron's material wasn't especially soft.

Felicja pulled away with some reluctance and sighed heavily. "It may be a stretch, but… do you think you can ask to leave, just for a day or two, to see him?"

"I… I don't think they'd allow it…"

"It figures, but still," Felicja crossed her arms uncomfortably and scooted off the window seat. She began gathering the dishes. "Sorry I ruined the mood…"

Regina stepped off as well, and assured her friend. "N-no, I'm still very happy Eduard is here. He'll be at breakfast, right?"

"Da, completely, and there's a good chance he'll spend the whole day at Natalya's heels." Felicja made a grimace, adding, "And at Mrs. Braginskaya's whip."

"Er- m-most likely…Oh!" Regina ran up to Felicja, causing the maid to look up with some alarm. "Can… can you tell me about your family?"

A strange expression crossed Felicja's thin face, and for a moment, Regina felt like she also asked something wrong. The maid's pretty green eyes clouded, but just as quickly, they recovered. She had all the dishes packed up in the basket, then said with some urgency, "Wait, what time is it?"

"Time? Oh…" Regina glanced back at the clock next to her bed. "Seven… seven fifteen! Oh, I'll be late-!" She scrambled for her violin.

Felicja groaned and darted out, calling over her shoulder, "Damn! I'm late too-! See you tonight!"

"Goodbye!" Regina said after her, and scurried her way down the hall.

"What is that?" Natalya's dark blue eyes cast obvious apprehension on her doctor.

Eduard blinked, and then looked down at the instrument his hands. "A rubber mallet."

"What does it do?"

"It tests your reflexes."

"Why would you need to do that?" She was genuinely confused. Eduard didn't take that as a good sign; it should've been a part of a routine mental health check-up at her facility… given that it was a legitimate, well-run facility. He had his doubts.

"It's all routine. So please, just let me tap your knee- or elbow, if you prefer. It won't hurt at all."

Natalya had some lingering protest, but she kept still. Eduard tapped on her elbow, and to his surprise, it only slightly moved. He tapped her knee and got the same reaction. Subconsciously, he frowned and began writing in his notebook.

"What is it?" She asked worriedly. "Is that bad?"

Eduard set aside his notes and chose his words carefully. "Well, it's… rather uncommon."

She frowned. "What was I supposed to do?"

"You're elbow and leg were supposed to jerk up, without your help."

"…Ah?"

"Here, try it with me," Eduard handed her the small rubber hammer. "Just tap my knee."

She glanced at it, then him, with some cynicism. She hit his knee with- she honestly didn't mean to- a rather absurd about of strength, resulting in Eduard's leg jerking up and his whole body nearly toppling off the stool.

"S-sorry!" She quickly dropped the mallet. "I-I didn't think I'd hit that hard!"

Eduard winced and rubbed his knee. "Oww… It's… fine. I think." He assured, but thought, God, I'll be lucky if my kneecap isn't shattered…

Natalya shifted in embarrassment. "S-so… Next test."

"Right. Next." Eduard winced for a last time and put the mallet back into his medical bag- far, far into his medical bag. He retrieved a folder of papers, her medical records from the Stalin Mental Health Facility of Smolensk. It was annoyingly minimal, and although they had taken records of her behavior, he wasn't completely sure how credible it was.

Patient displays disturbing behavior that is proof of some sort of mental defect. These symptoms are random, although they tend to happen every four to five weeks and go on for several days. They are as follows:

Speaking foul and vulgar language to herself or anyone near her

Injuring herself by scratching at her skin or scratching the walls

Claiming things are in her room when they are most obviously not

Screaming a man's name, 'Ivan'. He has been identified as her brother, and multiple requests have been sent to Comrade General Braginski asking him to bring his son, Comrade Colonel Braginski, to see her. We assume this will allow her to gain her sense.

Eduard lightly rubbed his temples, some frustration forming in him. These people either didn't have the slightest clue in how to treat this girl, or they fully knew what was wrong with her and he was in way over his head.

Natalya became bothered by his silence. "What? What have they written about me?"

He jumped a bit and closed the folder quickly. "Written? N-nothing-"

"I'm not slow. They'd always come in with notebooks, just like you. And they'd write and write without ever speaking to me." She said irritably.

Now he felt guilty. "I-It's honestly nothing bad…"

"Then let me see." Natalya held her hand, silently demanding the folder. Eduard sighed and, against his better judgment, gave it to her. She promptly opened it and began reading.

Her posture sagged as she read on, and eventually she just closed it and looked to her feet. Natalya muttered, "You must think I am insane."

"It's counter-productive for a doctor to judge a patient so quickly," Eduard insisted, and when Natalya glanced at him with hesitation, he added, "Besides, I don't know you well enough."

"That has hardly stopped most of them," She said softly, but bitterly. "Even though my father was… very upset about it, I am glad my mother brought me back here."

"And I think that was a wise choice." Eduard agreed, treading lightly. "You're recovery will be much smoother if you're in a place you're comfortable with."

Recovery? So he's just like them, thinking I can be cured of… this. Natalya solemnly handed him the folder and looked back to her feet. This private doctor certainly had better intentions then her previous ones, but in the end, they weren't much different. She began to feel anxious.

Eduard picked up on it and changed the subject, tossing the folder to the side. "So, are you ready for breakfast? We should be heading downstairs soon."

"I don't think my father wants me there." Natalya responded bluntly.

"Er- well, I'm sure your mother does, and your sister. Why don't you go for them?"

"…Yes, I suppose." Natalya stood up with some reluctance. Eduard gathered his things with relief. Maybe she'd cheer up once she had some food. She watched him, then said with some amusement, "Besides, I really don't think you know how to get to the dining room."

It just dawned on him. "…Oh. I don't."

Natalya had the faintest smile and brushed past him, walking briskly towards the dining room.

"W-wait!" Eduard went after her, his arms still full of supplies. He had a feeling her mother would throw a happy sort of fit that he was taking them with him.

And she did. She was poised anxiously on the edge of her chair, watching the door intently. So, the second Natalya stepped in, she exclaimed.

"There you are, dear! You took your time, so I was afraid Comrade Galante's check-up wasn't going well." She beckoned to the seat next to her, but Natalya quite obviously ignored her and sat next to Yekaterina and Chazov. Mrs. Braginskaya hardly noticed and practically threw Eduard into the vacant seat.

"You brought your supplies? Such dedication! Just set those aside," She practically beamed.

"R-Right, I'll do that," Eduard said uncomfortably, scooting his bag, notebooks and the folder under his chair. "Are we too late for breakfast?" He asked, noticing everyone else's breakfasts were halfway gone.

"I held onto it," Yekaterina said, passing the plates to her sister and Eduard. The two thanked her while Chazov and Mrs. Braginskaya began noisily conversing.

Eduard was hardly two bites into his breakfast when the doors swung open and Regina skidded to a halt. "S-sorry I'm late! So sorry-!" She panted, getting a hold of herself and her poor violin, which she was probably swinging through the air as she ran. For some reason, Eduard felt a need to ask her if she had been alright- not just this night, but all these months- but Chazov beat him.

"Comrade Galantaya! Have you met with Comrade Galante?" He asked, pointing to Eduard.

Regina tried to pat down her hair as she answered, with some surprise, "Y-yes. He's my brother."

The plump man blinked, then said, "…Oh! I suppose I should have assumed." He laughed, and Mrs. Braginskaya joined him. Eduard mentally groaned and judging by Yekaterina's expression, she probably had too.

Chazov recovered himself and said, "So! What will you be playing today?"

"W-well, do you have anything in mind?"

"Anything, I'm not too picky." He turned to Yekaterina, chuckling lightly, "Dorogaya, did you know they were related?"

"Yes, moya dorogaya." Yekaterina responded with clear and fake politeness, but it seemed to go right over the general's head. Eduard wondered how he managed to impress someone as beautiful as her- or rather, how she managed to get stuck with someone as slow as him.

Regina played a simple, airy tune, and the breakfast continued with Chazov and Mrs. Braginskaya jumping from one obnoxiously loud topic to the next. Occasionally, Yekaterina or Eduard were asked for input, and Natalya stayed completely silent. Eduard had long been done with his food, and the only noise not grating on his nerves was the sound of Regina's violin- but that was often being drowned out.

Honestly, are the breakfasts always this long? He repressed the urge to drum his nails on the table or get out the book in his medical bag and read. Finally, some relief came: in the form of a letter delivered by Boris.

The butler ignored Eduard's fiery glare and opened it neatly for Mrs. Braginskaya. She skimmed the short letter for a moment and her face lit up just as fast. "Oh! Oh, oh! How exciting! How charitable of him!"

"Pray tell, what is it?" Chazov grinned with childish excitement. Eduard prayed for permission to leave and noticed Regina had stopped playing and had a hopeful look about her. What she knew and he didn't was that whenever a green envelope arrived with a creamy white letter inside, it was always sent by one person:

"Toris Lorinaitis, the dear boy, has personally invited us to the grand premiere of his latest ballet." Mrs. Braginskaya began reading. "'I have reserved you, your family and any friends you'd like to bring.' Very sweet, da? I will be sure to invite Comrade Abramova and his lovely wife. It's on short notice, but I'm sure they can attend."

"It's been a while since I've seen a ballet," Chazov turned to Yekaterina. "Would you like to go, dorogaya?"

For the first time that whole morning, he'd caught her attention. "Yes, I believe so." She wondered what sort of classical music they would present. "I can go, can't I, Mother?"

"Is that even a question? Natalya will accompany us, and I will bring Ivan even if I must drag him. Ah-" She turned to Eduard, smiling, "You will come as well!"

"Er- r-really?" Those few words pricked him and deflated him like a balloon.

"Naturally! Yekaterina, Natalya, to your rooms! I've got a faint idea of what I'd like you to wear."

"Lovely," Natalya murmured dryly, sipping her tea. Unlike her sister, she had difficulty tolerating social parties.

Eduard shared her apprehension. This world he was thrown into was the night-and-day opposite of his quiet little village, and he was liking it less and less.

It was eight at night, but the sun had set many hours ago. The Braginski ladies- along with their guests and a silently complaining Eduard- had shuffled out for the premiere.

Naturally, Regina wasn't invited, but she didn't mind in the least bit. She didn't want to remain in the room the whole night, and Boris was busy escorting the Braginskis, so she snuck into the servants' rooms and visited with Felicja.

It was just as dismal and bare as Felicja had described. She said she was lucky to get one of the larger rooms, but Regina didn't see the fortune in rickety, old furniture and cracked windows. And as if the minimal bedding wasn't enough, her room was at the very back corner of the manor, with an old door leading right outside. Regina was amazed that Felicja could stand the winters.

"Actually, I don't sleep here during the colder nights," Felicja said, taking a seat on one of the flimsy stools and setting her wash basin down. "Some of the nicer girls let me share a bed with them."

Regina sat on the stool next to her and set down the laundry she was carrying. She figured she might as well help Felicja with some of the chores. "T-then why can't you just stay with them? I-It's still rather cold…"

Felicja's green eyes grinned mischievously, betraying her innocent tone. "This is the only door leading inside without a lock."

Regina frowned in confusion as she handed her the soap. "U-Um, so…?"

"Soooo…" Felicja took it and began lathering up the clothes. "When Toris stays here, he tells everyone he's going for a walk."

"Oh." Regina thought, and then blushed. "…Oh!"

Felicja giggled, looking down at the old shirts. She started scrubbing harshly as she said, "If tonight goes well, that cow Braginskaya will ask him to spend the night. And how can he refuse her hospitality?" She giggled again, handing the wet shirt to Regina, who hung it up on a makeshift clothesline made of old twine.

The girls began idly talking back and forth for the next few hours, with Felicja washing the clothes and Regina hanging them, then folding when they were nearly dry. Their conversation wasn't particularly exciting, but for some reason, Felicja felt... relaxed. Perhaps 'content' was a better word. Every morning, she surprised herself as she looked forward to carrying that weighty basket and sharing breakfast with the Family's small guest, a girl who was practically kidnapped from her cradle. And their small talks, in the hallways during the day, or a few minutes before Regina went to bed, or whenever they could. Someone to brighten her each day.

Yes, Felicja loved Toris, more than she could adequately say. When he looked her way, his sweet green eyes had such softness and adoration that, just for a moment, she forgot her filthy appearance and all of the misery her day entailed. But Toris couldn't be there everyday, no matter how hard he tried. Sometimes he was gone for months at a time. When he'd come back, the cold, monochrome world of the Braginski manor shattered and they'd be sparkling and joyous, just the two of them, in the garden or his room or her's, anywhere. When he was gone, the illusion faded, and her servitude would stare her right in the face.

Felicja was either bitter or dejected when he left on one of his long absences. It seemed that everything in her life just went in and out- like Teresa.

Felicja thought outloud, "You know, I haven't had anyone to talk to since Teresa died."

"Teresa? Whose that?" Regina asked casually, taking down a few of the shirts. At least a good amount of sun came from the cracked window. Regina turned around and, judging by the size of Felicja's eyes and her paled skin, she had just asked something seriously wrong.

Regina stepped forward and tried to hastily recover. "Y-you don't have to tell me! I mean, if you don't want to-!"

Felicja sighed, scooting the bin away with her foot and leaning against the table. Regina had went and spilled her guts about her family, her living family, when she was obviously still missing them and hurting from being so far away. It was only fair that Felicja talked about her 'family'- the only family she knew, a single person, someone who wasn't even around anymore. Someone who she had been - intentionally or unintentionally? - pushing to the very edge of her memory.

She started with some difficulty, simply because she was trying to concentrate on those many years ago, the beginning. "She was my older sister. We were raised in the same orphanage, and she was … a lot like your parents, or at least, what you said: kind and gentle. She was a lot calmer than me."

Regina quickly left her makeshift clothesline and sat next to Felicja, listening attentively. It worried her how indifferent Felicja's face was, how level her tone was. As if she was repeating a rather boring story.

"We were the only ones who spoke Polish, although I don't remember being in Poland. All I knew was that orphanage. The women taking care of us weren't cruel, and we had decent food and bedding…."

Her memory was hazy and fogged. It was like finding an old picture and having to dust it off or repair its frame. Felicja struggled to remember her childhood- what she played, where the orphanage was, if her early years were even happy ones...

The strongest memories she could recall were the adults walking in, the couples, browsing the children like commodities and speaking with cheery tones to the caretakers. Felicja and Teresa were always overlooked, until they became the oldest children in the orphanage. Toddlers who'd been there for only a month were adopted without a second look, taken to the warm arms of happy mothers and excited fathers. Even the unruly children, like that short boy that always threw tantrums, were accepted. Even the ugly ones, like mean-spirited Veronika, who always pulled Felicja's hair. Even the mutes and deafs and blinds were given a better chance than them.

Felicja took the passive rejection in stride. She assumed that there was something wrong with her, maybe she was uglier than Veronika or maybe adults preferred a completely deaf child then one who couldn't hear in one ear, like Teresa. Maybe all the work they did around the orphanage made them too boyish and rough-looking to parents who wanted delicate ladies. Maybe they did something bad and they were dubbed pariahs- how could Felicja know? She could barley understand their language. Or maybe they were just unwanted. Adults know best, don't they? Maybe the parents saw something nasty in the two girls that Felicja or Teresa never noticed.

Felicja was twelve and Teresa was sixteen- that's what the caretaker said. Felicja never remembered her birthday. But she remembered that day, because instead of a fresh-faced and eager couple, a grave man in a black suit entered the orphanage. The caretaker's manager was expecting him. All the children acted their best, assuming he was here to take one of them to a better place. But instead of browsing and debating like the other parents, he went straight for Felicja and Teresa. They were in a dark car within thirty minutes; driving away from the home they'd known all their lives.

Felicja remembered looking at Teresa and seeing her pale face, her fearful eyes. She thought nothing of it and held her sister's hand, smiling, "Isn't this great, Teresa? We're going to have a father and mother, just like everyone else."

Teresa looked down at her dear sister, their bright green eyes meeting each other. Teresa wanted to express her worry, but she still treated her sister like a child. "Y-yes… It's … wonderful." She squeezed her hand tighter. Teresa looked out the window, watching the foreign buildings go by. An older man, taking in two young girls without warning? She expected the worse.

The car stopped in front of the largest house Felicja and Teresa had ever seen. And to their complete surprise, the man said in perfect Polish, "We are here."

"Y-you can speak Polish too?" Teresa asked anxiously, her distress slowly leaving her. "Did you know we were…?"

"Yes. Now get out." He opened the door for them, and Felicja jumped out with enthusiasm while Teresa nervously followed.

"It's so big! Is this our home?" Felicja turned to the man, unsure what to expect but happy nonetheless.

"No." He said bluntly. Teresa's face fell quickly, and Felicja was confused, but he continued. "This is the Braginski manor. You'll be serving them from this day on."

They didn't completely understand until he had given them their uniforms and shoved mops and brooms in their hands. They were supposed to be looked over by the older servants, who ignored them until one of the girls did something wrong- usually Felicja. Teresa understood some Russian and was able to get by, but Felicja knew none and was fiercely independent. Teresa had be by her side to keep the other women from beating her.

It was completely different from their orphanage life, but how could they complain? As the years passed, Felicja was forcefully taught to obey without question and speak the language. Teresa seemed to age prematurely, her naturally small body going from thin to outright emaciated as she worked day after day, scrubbing and washing until her joints ached and her fingers became permanently white.

She ignored her own malnourished and overworked body for her sister. She gave Felicja nearly all of her food, and took over the more difficult chores. Despite the extra meals and easier workload, Felicja's body went gaunt and weak. She was not as tolerant or mentally strong as Teresa; she lagged behind, despite the verbal and physical lashings from the other equally tired and hungry servants.

They struggled through like this, barley breathing, for several years. With no belief in a higher power and no hope for a better future, they believed in and hoped for each other. As long as Teresa saw Felicja's energetic eyes, and as long as Felicja saw Teresa's kind smile, it seemed as if they could endure any hardship.

Reality harshly told them otherwise. One bitter winter, tuberculosis spread throughout the servants' rooms. With their underfed and exhausted bodies, many of them fell ill and perished quickly. Teresa was one of the first to catch it, and the one who suffered the most.

Felicja didn't even have the basic right of seeing her sister pass, or hearing her last words or holding her hand as she peacefully went. When Felicja awoke that bitter December morning, she saw the empty bed. There were several, but that one burned in her memory. She could recalled exactly what it looked like: An old pine frame, sheets that were once white and now stained, a lumpy pillow. All scattered about and empty of any trace of Teresa.

Felicja questioned everyone. She was given the same answer: Up to twenty had been victim to the tuberculosis, Teresa included. Their bodies had been retrieved early in the morning and taken away.

"Taken away where!" Felicja was screaming, but to who she didn't know.

"To be buried." Ah, now she remembered. That pig, that bastard, Boris.

"Buried where? What grave?" Felicja grabbed him by his jacket, managing to pull him closer despite her skinny body and small height.

He didn't respond. She pushed him with what little strength she had. She fell to the ground and wailed in an incomprehensible mix of Polish and Russian. "I hate you! I wish you had never brought us here! You killed her!"

"Do not be foolish. She passed because of the complications the illness gave her. Pick yourself up and help Lilya wash the dishes…"

That night, she ran. She didn't even take anything with her, and she didn't know where she was going. She stole shoes and a jacket from some sleeping man and ran out the back door, the one with the rusty, broken lock. It was horribly cold; the worst December Leningrad had mustered. She couldn't feel the wind biting at her body, because it had gone numb around the same time her heart had.

Felicja collapsed at one point. It felt like she'd walked for hours and miles, but there was a good chance she only got a block away from the manor. When she fell to snow-covered ground, heated pain drilled into her whole body. She was sure her blood was freezing, and the only part of her body not in chilled agony was her fingertips and toes. After a few seconds of that pain- she could recall it perfectly- she passed out.

She assumed she would die. She expected to wake up… certainly not where she did. She was in her usual bed, but this one had another pillow and a rather thick blanket. And she was wearing another jacket, and this one was much warmer than the one she stole… It didn't even have any holes in it… she opened her eyes slowly, ignoring the pain that the simple action caused. She was in one of the servant's rooms, and it was empty, with the exception of a stool and a man sitting on it.

He exclaimed something- she was too exhausted and faint to understand his jumbled, heavily-accented Russian. He began talking quickly, and that didn't help at all. She really want him to shut up, because she was beginning to get a headache.

So, she turned her back to him- and she groaned, because she felt all of her cold bones creak in protest. She cursed out loud.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry, I know how much this must hurt." - that's the short version of what he said, probably. He retrieved a bowl of soup from somewhere and held it out. "Have this."

Felicja's body decided food was more important than complaining about the cold. She slurped down the hot soup, the sudden temperature change excruciating but a full stomach worth it. It wasn't until the bowl was empty and licked clean until she bothered to look over and see who gave it to her.

She was still dizzy and all she saw were the bright green eyes. "Teresa?" She asked weakly, quietly, hopefully.

When he spoke, then she saw him clearly, and she felt stupid. "N-no, I'm Toris, Toris Lorinaitis." He said anxiously…

"T-Toris!" Regina's head spun. "Our Toris?"

Felicja was so deep into her story she had to clear her head and come back to reality. She gave a small smile and blush. "Yes, our Toris. The one who is distracting the horrid Family with a ballet."

"He saved you?"

"I was surprised too," Felicja said with amusement. "He doesn't look strong enough to carry a girl, right?"

Regina was listening so intently that she was taken by complete surprise. "So that's how you met? But, how-"

The door swung on its hinges with such speed and slammed against the wall with such force that a hole was ripped into it. Both girls let out a scream, and Regina accidentally knocked the bin over. Soapy water and soggy clothes splashed across the floor and onto the feet of a very, very unamused butler.

"Felicja! Clean this up at once!" Boris snapped. Felicja recovered herself and stood tall. "If you hadn't barged in, I wouldn't have done it!"

Boris turned his heels on Regina, who was shaking and pale. "Get out. You shouldn't be here." He said with stern harshness. Tears sprang to Regina's eyes and- after glancing quickly at Felicja- she scurried out.

Boris glared at Felicja. "I should throw you out. You should be doing your duties, not fabricating sob stories to Comrade Chazovaya's guests."

"Fabricating-? You're the one that started this 'sob story'! I'd rather stay at the orphanage!" Felicja spat, her vision going red.

"That filthy institution? You would've died by disease or hunger."

"My sister died of disease and I'm already hungry-! Ahhh-!"

Boris had taken a fistful of her blonde hair and pulled her completely off her feet. He dragged her across the servant's quarters while she screamed and clawed at him.

"Don't be- ah-!- so dramatic." He winced as her nails cut his hands. "You still haven't learned to be grateful."

With a single swing, he opened the door to the cellar, and threw her in. Before Felicja could gather herself, he'd shut and locked it.

Ignoring her screaming and pounding, Boris retrieved a small handkerchief from his coat pocket and wrapped it around his left hand, the one with the most cuts. The servants around him chuckled amongst themselves.

"The filthy Pole is acting up again?" Lilya tittered. "Honestly, don't waste cellar space. I could hit her in my free time…"

Boris turned sharply on his heels and shouted, "Get back to work! All of you!"

All of them, Lilya included, flinched and scurried out of the kitchen. Boris sighed heavily and wrapped his other hand. He glanced at the cellar door; it was still shaking from Felicja's fist-pounding. He rubbed his temples as he tried to stop a headache from coming.

"To think, that girl is the last heiress of the Łukasiewicz family… I can't believe it- but, he did say it was only a possibility."

It was late at night, but the theatre lights were bright and grand. The normal guests were leaving, anxious to get home. But the Braginski family and co. weren't even close to leaving.

"Toris! What a charming little performance that was." Mrs. Braginskaya nearly pounced on the poor Lithuanian producer the moment he came within her eyesight. "Yekaterina enjoyed the second act, but my personal favorite was the first."

"A-ah, thank you very much," Toris said, still not used to Mrs. Braginskaya's selective enthusiasm, despite knowing her for so long. "The troupe and I worked especially hard these past few months. I'm happy you enjoyed it."

"I did, more so than usual, because my dear Natalya was here!" Mrs. Braginskaya stepped aside to reveal her daughter, who was quite embarrassed to suddenly be thrown in the spotlight. Eduard was completely in his own world until Mrs. Braginskaya added, "And her personal … assistant, Eduard."

Toris remembered Natalya from his previous visits and knew she wasn't one for talking, but he was curious as to who this 'personal assistant' was. Before he could inquire, Mrs. Braginskaya took his shoulder and scooted him several inches closer to Natalya- a little too close to her personal space, and she obviously didn't like it. "My daughter adored the ballet. I'm so glad, because you know she normally doesn't! Natalya, dear, tell him what you told me!"

After dropping that not-so-subtle hint, Mrs. Braginskaya sped off to meet with Chazov and Yekaterina. Natalya sighed.

Toris gave her an apologetic smile. "I understand. Ah, how was your academic retreat?"

"My… what?" Natalya raised an eyebrow.

"Your mother said you were gone because of some program your old school was hosting?"

"Oh- yes." Natalya quickly spun the story her mother obviously thought of on the spot. "It was just a visit to some villages, so we could, um, tell them about the city, and so we could learn from them."

"Country villages? That sounds very relaxing. You should ask Miss Galantaya if you visited her village." Toris tried to keep up his polite indifference, but he knew how much Regina missed her family and was trying to think of ways to get in touch with them.

Eduard took his questioning a completely different direction. The second he heart 'Galantaya', his head snapped into reality, and he quickly asked, "Regina? How do you know her?"

This stranger knows little Regina? How? Toris didn't like the man's tone or the way he was glaring. With some assertion, Toris asked, "How do you know her?"

"I asked first." Eduard took a step forward, challenging him. Why did this man, who was completely unrelated to the Braginski family, know Regina? What were his intentions?

Toris was shorter, but he took a step as well. He was hardly intimidated, and it showed.

Sensing the tension, Natalya quickly shot out, "He's Regina's brother, Eduard Galante. Eduard, this is Toris Lorinaitis, mother's friend. He visits often."

"…Oh." Both young men noticeably loosened their postures and the flames between them reduced to just sparks. Toris recovered completely first, and exclaimed, "Her brother! You found her before I found you!"

"Excuse me?" That statement effectively puzzled Eduard.

The Lithuanian spoke quickly, overcome with excitement. "She mentioned her family, and you, quite often! I know her arriving her wasn't… particularly legal, and she was undoubtedly lonely, so I tried to find her family in the different villages in the countryside. Er, there's a lot of Galante families, surprisingly…"

Eduard was still disbelieved. "I… well; I suppose I should thank you… But I came here on my own."

"And I'm happy you did! I'll be staying the next few nights. I'm sure I can distract Mrs. Braginskaya enough so you can talk to Regina."

At the same time, Eduard and Natalya's eyes lit up. She turned to her doctor, "And while you visit, I can have some time to myself?"

"Er- wow, is my company that bad?"

"No. But my mother's is." She replied bluntly.

"Well… yes, alright."

The duo turned back to Toris. The producer grinned childishly. "Regina will be much happier! I hope you'll stay for quite a while."

Eduard nodded and smiled back, but in the back of his mind, he had good dozen or so plans of how to escape with Regina in tow.

Somehow, in some miraculous way, Yekaterina had managed to escape from her chattering mother and bellowing husband. All her life she'd been around those types of people, but recently, she could only take them in small doses.

She walked about the quieter parts of the theatre, admiring the architecture and lovely murals painted on the walls. She hummed the music of the ballet to herself; it was charming and carefree. She wished Regina had come along. Yekaterina still felt guilt of unintentionally bringing the girl to the manor… even though Regina didn't show any hostility, and though she had her brother, the tall woman was still bothered. Yekaterina sighed sadly, looking up from her feet to the nearest painting.

It truly took her off-guard. While most of the paintings in the theatre were pastel colors, this one was harsh and fiery. It was a stylized, very modern portrait of Stalin. She shouldn't have been surprised, his face was everywhere, and she'd seen it a million times since she was a girl. But now it bothered her profoundly. Because Chazov, despite his… slowness, was a strong political player, she became the political wife. They'd only been married a short time and it seemed every general or colonel or what-have-you knew in Leningrad had shook her hand. And Chazov showed her their 'calendar'- literally, he had rallies and speeches and dinners for everyday of the every week of every month.

Yekaterina was not a politician. She didn't even think she'd make a good politician's wife. Because when she saw all of these plump men in their crisp uniforms, wearing their glittery medals, she thought of the skinny people in their crumpled clothes on the dull streets. The people she used to visit everyday, who she'd share her money and food with. Isn't that what they always said on the radios and TV's? To share and to prosper together, as a single union?

I know I'm exhausted when I begin debating politics with myself, Yekaterina thought wearily. She decided to return to her mother, although she could honestly list a dozen better things to do. She turned sharply and completely bumped into a man.

"Oh nyet! Prastee Meeynya!" The man said in an embarrassed voice. He began to rapidly exclaim more apologies, but Yekaterina stopped him by holding up her hand.

"N-nyet, it's fine," She said reassuringly, despite the pain in her nose. She winced and ignored social etiquette as she rubbed it. "Ah, oww…"

"S-sorry," He apologized sincerely again. The man was quite pale, and young, probably her age. His Russian was heavily accented with… something. It sounded very unusual, and he was speaking so softly. Yekaterina shook her head. "Honestly, it's fine," She smiled one last time and quickly left.

He blinked, fixing his glasses, as they'd nearly fallen off. "A-adieu! Er- I mean," He smacked himself on the head and began muttering. "What was the word again? Er… not spasibo…Ugh, and I read so much…"

A familiar hand patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. "Do not fret, Mathieu! It is not the first time you have been … awkward with the opposite sex." The man sighed dramatically.

"Hey, I hardly had time to be awkward." Mathieu frowned, ignoring his brother's acting. "And she accidentally bumped into me."

"That's when you say, 'Oh, and I was just praying to God for a wonderful guardian angel~'"

Mathieu groaned, "You can't say things like that here, when they're watching us so closely."

"Nonsense, they trust us completely. And why shouldn't they? We are their fellow comrades, non?"

-----

I wrote this whole god-awful chapter in a day. ...Yeah, believe it -dies-

Oh, and if you've noticed, I've included Regina's uncle again (he seemed to completely disappear, didn't he? My bad!). There is a reason I described the grave so vividly- but that's for later chapters! Also, France's comment will make sense next chapter! Yush yush, that means Mattie and Frenchie are gonna be semi-major characters in the following chapters~! Oh, and so will all of Felicja's drama :D Don't worry, I'd never write an unhappy LietPol ending!
(Wait, little side comment, should I post a violence or swearing warning? o.o I didn't think it was that bad...)

As always, thank you so much for the comments~ Please PM/Email/Comment if you have some ideas for future chapters or any concerns on hisotrical/cultural accuracy~