~ Powers of Nations: A Countryhumans Chronicle

▶Chapter:18◀

I think there is no need for another warning-

But still, if you don't like it don't read it.

The chapter:

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Warning⚠.

3rd person pov:

The cold, steel door creaked open, and TR stepped into the dimly lit cell with a different demeanor than usual. The harshness in his eyes had softened, replaced by a weary, almost tender gaze. The change was subtle but noticeable, and it brought a mix of confusion and cautious hope to Russia.

Since the day TR had brought the asthma medication, there had been a shift in their interactions. TR's demeanor, though still stern and imposing, carried an undertone of care that was new and unexpected. It was as if something had shifted within him, though the exact cause remained unclear.

Russia lay on the bed, the small amount of medication continuing to provide relief from the relentless pain. He had become accustomed to the brief moments of peace that TR's kindness had brought, even as the overall torment remained unchanged. The cell had become a place where moments of tender care were interspersed with the usual cruelty, creating a jarring contrast in Russia's experience.

One day, Russia began to feel unusually weak and feverish. His body ached, and he could feel the heat radiating from his skin. The combination of a fever and his worsening asthma made him increasingly miserable. He lay on the bed, shivering despite the heat, trying to focus on the distant, muffled sounds outside his cell.

TR entered the cell, his usual stern expression replaced with visible concern as he approached Russia. He placed a hand on Russia's forehead, his brow furrowing at the feverish heat.

“You’re burning up,” TR said, his voice carrying a rare edge of worry. “This needs to be addressed.”

TR quickly went to a small storage area and retrieved a few items, including a thermometer and some fever-reducing medication. He sat beside Russia and gently took his temperature, his touch careful and measured. The thermometer registered a high fever, confirming TR's concerns.

“I’m going to help you,” TR said, his tone softer than usual. He administered the fever-reducing medication with practiced ease and then placed a damp cloth on Russia’s forehead to help cool him down.

Despite TR's efforts, Russia's fever did not subside. It persisted, an unrelenting heat that made him feel like he was burning from within. TR continued to monitor his condition closely, reapplying the damp cloth and administering more medication as needed. The persistent fever was a constant source of worry for TR, who found himself increasingly frustrated by his inability to fully alleviate Russia's suffering.

Alongside the fever, Russia's asthma took a severe turn. The attacks became more frequent and intense, making it difficult for him to breathe. Each breath was a struggle, and TR’s previous attempts at relief seemed inadequate against the ongoing crisis. TR's concern for Russia grew more apparent, his actions more urgent as he tried to manage the worsening situation.

During one particularly severe asthma attack, Russia gasped for breath, clutching his chest as he fought for air. TR, his face etched with concern, quickly administered the asthma medication, but the relief was minimal. He sat beside Russia, holding him steady, and used every method he knew to ease the attack. Despite TR’s best efforts, the asthma persisted, leaving Russia on the edge of consciousness.

The strain of the fever and asthma took a heavy toll on Russia. He lay on the bed, his body weak and trembling. TR, despite his usual detachment, stayed by Russia’s side, his hands working with a meticulous care that was uncharacteristic of him. He continued to check Russia's temperature, reapply the damp cloth, and administer medication, his actions driven by a rare and genuine concern.