Trust is Dangerous- Russia x Germany

Night-time

I was honestly a bit afraid to meet Russia's siblings. It felt very awkward seeing Russia behave like a little child and being the spectator and onlooker, I couldn't do much. USSR probably felt this too, but he made no comment on it. When we got to their home, the huge and old mansion in the middle of a snowy field was a spectacular sight. Russia's youngest brother came to greet us and even hugged me, asking my name. He was very sweet. The place had a feel of being lived in for many many years. USSR led us inside, into the dark, north-facing living room with a fireplace. I left my soaked shoes on the mat near the front and Russia took me and my things upstairs, along the spiralling staircase, to the first room. His home was constructed in a very fancy way, with one side of the hall having the rooms and the other in a mezzanine level, a grandiose view into the living room. The guest room that I was given felt a little cold and empty, with no personality or character or signs of somebody ever sleeping in it.

"This is the room," Russia closed the door to the windy balcony.

"Your home is nice," I commented. I thought I might've said that a million times already.

"My father made it. By himself." Russia said with pride. "The whole house. That's why it looks like this. I think it would be really expensive if somebody built it for us."

"Probably, and the location is nice too."

"It's safe, far away and isolated. Just like my father always wanted." Russia looked out of the balcony door and smiled. "I grew up here, if you didn't know."

"That's...nice." I had no more words to describe everything. "What do you do during this time of year?"

"Have food. Basically that's it. And my grandfather comes for no reason. It always ends up that he's thrown out of the house. But he comes the next year, and then the next. I guess he thinks he has fatherly rights. And he acts like he's still the Tsar of everything. But we kind of let him, since he's family. So I had to warn you about that." Russia explained. "He also will point out everything at the worst time. So brace yourself for his commentary."

"When is he coming?"

"In three days."

"Three?"

"Yes," I thought he might come up with a snappy remark when I re-asked the question, but he went with the flow. "He takes father's room for no reason and forces him to sleep on the couch downstairs. But we got used to him ordering father around. The most important rule is to not point it out."

"Okay." He was starting to ramble a bit, but I went on with it. He was probably worried that I would say something dumb in front of his family. I could understand his dilemma. "I definitely understand." I said aloud. He gave an appreciative nod and let me unpack by myself. I wished he'd stayed. The room was very plain and was definitely for guests. I put my clothing into the drawers next to the bed and set one of my new favourite books on the nightstand. When I came out, Kazakhstan waved at me, holding something in his hand happily and disappeared into his room next to mine.

"I gave him a British foodstuff." I heard Russia's voice behind me. He looked happy with his decision to bring a gift. "He's really happy."

"He's very sweet,"

"He is. And to everyone." Russia smiled. He walked on to one of the last doors and went into a room. I followed him without thinking. It took me a bit of time to realise that it was his. It was simple in design, with a strange looking bookshelf made out of planks of wood, and he had a wood floor, not entirely covered by a navy carpet. His bed had a fluffy blue grey throw over it and a doll leaning on the white pillows. A large French balcony was partially obscured by the deep sapphire heavy drapes. Russia himself was on his knees pawing through his dresser drawers, muttering to nobody. He noticed me when he looked up and I felt like an intruder being caught.