•Countryhumans Lore•

The Dungeon

Context: The Third Reich and the Soviet Union finished torturing Poland and they threw him into what Czechoslovakia calls "The Dungeon".

Warning: This chapter has some blood/gore. If you are sensitive to those topics, feel free to skip to the next chapter.

     "Poland!" He could hear someone calling his name. Was he dead? Surely not. "Poland!" the voice called out again. Poland couldn't tell who it was. He couldn't even see. He slowly forced his eyes open.

     The world seemed dark and blurry. His body ached like he had just been thrown into a pit of lava. "Poland!" the voice called out a third time, louder.

     The mysterious country grabbed Poland's dangling head and pushed it up to look at him. "C-Czechoslovakia?" Poland managed to murmur once his senses finally adjusted to his surroundings.

     "Poland, you're okay!" Czechoslovakia smiled in relief.

     "Where a-are we?" Poland blinked and looked down at his body, which was lazily placed in the sitting position against a wall. His heart nearly stopped when he looked at his limbs. Slits and stab wounds cut deep into the Polish man's arms and legs, staining his brown shirt red with blood. Then he noticed the big black chains. The chains that connected his hands to the wall and his feet to the floor. Everywhere on his body hurt but the worst pain was in his head. Like a throbbing headache, it burned.

     He slowly lifted his hand to his head. His face seemed normal until he reached his forehead. It hurt when he touched it and it felt jagged and strange. It felt like... a crack.

     Poland's breathing became staggered as he pulled his fingers off of his face, examining the fresh blood dripping off of them. The pain in his head was unbearable and he couldn't help but let a few tears slip away from his eyes.

     Czechoslovakia grabbed Poland by the cheeks (a little too harshly) and lifted his face up once again.

     "It's going to be alright," Czechoslovakia assured Poland in an attempt to calm his nerves.

     Poland looked up into Czechoslovakia's blue eyes. "Where are we?" he asked again, his voice still shaky. He looked around at his surroundings. They were in a square-shaped room. The walls and floors were made out of cold stone and everything was dark. The only light was from a small staircase that led up to... somewhere. Poland couldn't see from where he was seated.

     "We're in 'The Dungeon'," Czechoslovakia said. "Where the Third Reich imprisons us."

     Us? thought Poland. He had forgotten about Austria. Poland looked to his left and wasn't shocked in the slightest when he saw Austria sitting against the wall. She was Hungary's sister. Poland knew Hungary like the back of his hand. He was his best friend, they did everything together. The absence of Hungary in the room filled Poland with relief. Hungary was okay.
      Poland almost forgot the Third Reich was Hungary's brother. He would have never guessed. From their looks to their personality, no one would have known that Hungary and Third Reich were related in any way if no one had known their parents.

     Czechoslovakia was chained to the wall across from the stairway. He had pulled the chains to their full extent just to reach Poland.

     "What is up there?" Poland asked, motioning his head towards the staircase. He immediately winced in pain from moving his face too much but Czechoslovakia didn't seem to notice. "Kurw-"