Work Text:
Tolys sat with trepidation, his bloodied hands tied behind his back, and his legs bound together with chains that clinked and clattered no matter how still he tried to be as the train continued to presumably Russia’s estate. After his capture, and before boarding the train, he had fought relentlessly as Ivan stripped him of his uniform and forced him into a simple cloth shirt and pants. Ivan had inspected the uniform before swiftly cutting off the fabric of the sleeve that had been decorated with a tricolour badge of yellow, green, and red, a symbol of his nation, independent and free, and had decided to turn it into a makeshift gag which made it so he didn’t have to choose between defiant silence or screaming at the top of his lungs every thought that raced through his head. Sure, such actions would only trap him further and he would likely be punished severely, but that was inevitable. Resisting and suffering more was always preferable to giving in and wounding his pride.
If his hands weren’t bound, he wasn’t sure what he would do first - shatter the glass panes so he could feel the cool air of his land on his blood stained face one more time before being brought back to hell, or attempt to shatter the bones of the face that smiled at him as if this were a train ride heading for the countryside on holiday. Russia would most likely anticipate such a move and swiftly block and break Tolys’ hand that wasn’t broken.
Ivan seemed to take note of the fires burning in the other’s forest green eyes and broke the silence, “You’re still upset, I see. You had your fun playing soldier in the woods but it’s time to go home now.”
Tolys glared back at him.
“You know, your brothers were worried about you, they miss you, Litva,”
That was probably one of Tolys’ two regrets about joining the partisans - leaving his brothers to fall back into the hands of Russia. The other was failing to ensure his brothers and his people their independence and freedom.
Rage boiled inside him as Ivan continued, his words saccharine and soft as if he were a mother explaining to a petulant child why his favourite toy was taken from him. Seeing as Tolys couldn’t respond, Ivan deemed it fit to continue his one sided conversation, much to his annoyance. Nonetheless, Tolys does his best to ignore his voice as there was no point in listening to the rationale of a mad man.
The long journey comes to an end as Tolys is escorted to a cell underground that appeared to be new as Tolys didn’t recognize it as any of the ones he had been held in prior. Ivan takes off the blindfold and the gag and watches as his captive inspects his cell.
“Back here once again, Litva. It’s quite funny isn’t it.”
Tolys stares at him.
“You always choose to fight me Litva, you spit at my face and tell me you won’t bow. For a while that’s true, yes. But slowly your defiance is broken away and you tremble at my feet and beg for your master to lay down the whip, to hand you that scrap of bread. You become the perfect servant, you heed every order and obey my every word. You know your place before me and you are content. Or so it seems. Until you foolishly see an opportunity to prove that you something more and you choose to defy me. You rebel. You run away. I bring you home and remind you of your place and the cycle begins again.”
“It pains me that every time we always end up right back here.”
“Really,” Tolys scoffs.
“Yes,”
“Then give up,” Tolys snaps back, “No matter what you do here, Ivan, you will always lose!”
With no response Tolys is left with a feeling of satisfaction even as he is shoved to the ground of the cell.
Before exiting, Ivan turns to the direction of his captive, “It does even if you fail to see it. Which is why I will ensure you will learn. No matter what it takes.” Ivan turns to leave, pulling the string of the one light in the room leaving Tolys in darkness.
******
Ivan doesn’t return. No one enters the room not that Tolys expected any other visitors. Tolys makes note of the changing amount of light that slipped through the door leading to the rest of the estate. The light that trickled through and faded to darkness became the only way to determine how many days he had been left down there. It had been four days. Four days of pacing this cage he was in, praying, yelling in hopes anyone would hear him, crying, and tossing and turning in his sleep as the hunger pangs kept him from rest. His stomach seemed to keep him awake despite his mind knowing that any sort of sustenance was unlikely to appear. Though he wasn’t human in all ways he knew he always would suffer like one, the only difference was that he couldn’t die.
Today marked one week.
The sounds of gunshots tortured his dreams. Deep within the densest parts of the pine forests they had been there for months. It had been only a matter of time. They were a den of foxes, and the hunting dogs were hot on their trail. Months of sabotage had now come to an end. They were able to hold off for so long, with stocks of machine guns, rifles, and other artillery taken from the Red Army soldiers they had killed, along with morale that kept the men in fighting spirit, despite knowing that one wrong move could mean having one’s remains on gruesome display in village square as warning for anyone who thought of joining. To counter this argument, there was a printing press whose service in their cause rivaled the ammunition in importance, hidden a short distance from the main camp to ensure its survival. Words could continue to fight for them even if they ran out of bullets.
They were forced out of their hidden dugouts that served as rudimentary bunkers well suited for partisan warfare, and into the faint sun of late January.
Now, Tolys stood face to face with Braginsky himself. Before he could reach for his gun, Tolys found himself struggling against Ivan’s hold before a sudden snap and rush of searing hot pain shot through his arm prevented further resistance. He looked at his countrymen, proud and unwavering despite their fates sealed, breaking something inside him as he heard their murmuring of his name.
Lietuva. Lietuva. Lietuva.
“Litva,”
Ivan forces Tolys’ chin upwards, green eyes meeting dark amethyst.
From a distance, the pop of grenade going off, each person in the group had one with them, in the event they were compromised, taking one’s life being preferable to the brutal torture and condemning one’s entire family to suffer in exile. He and his men weren’t so fortunate.
Most of the time, the Soviets didn’t mind if his countrymen were alive or dead after crushing their operations and Tolys’ countrymen preferred death over surrender. However, choosing death wouldn’t be an option. Ivan wanted him alive, a nation on his knees before Russia himself was better deterrent then a partisan displayed in every village in his land.
“I have missed you terribly, little one, it seems like you have been having quite the fun terrorising the countryside, murdering your fellow countrymen, always quite troublesome aren’t we, hmm?” Russia sighs. “I suppose your men are getting what they want, dying for their nation.”
“No!”
“What was that?”
“No! Don’t kill them. Please!” Tolys struggles to keep his voice from trembling. They didn’t deserve to die.
“Such behaviour cannot go unpunished, Litva,”
“Lietuva! It’s okay. It’s been an honour,” Tolys recognizes the voice of Isakas, who was only seventeen. He wasn’t certain Isakas was telling the truth as he appeared much younger. Others dismissed his request to join them, he should be with his family, they said.
Alone once with Tolys, he replied simply “I have no family left, they were murdered during the war. Tolys knew what he meant, and Tolys felt ashamed.
A gun now aimed at the boy’s temple. It was too much to bear.
How proud and willing his men were to die for their country who had failed them once more.
Tolys is soon covered with the blood of his men as they are all shot before him.
“They need to be punished, and so do you, little one,” Ivan says softly.
Soon Tolys counted nine days.
He was no longer solely desperate for food, but the sound of any voice, even Ivan’s, would be welcomed compared to the suffocating silence.
Soon nine days became twelve or perhaps thirteen, Tolys had now lost track and was no longer sure.
On the fourteenth day Ivan appears.
“Good Morning Litva,” Russia greets him as he enters the room with a tray of food, the sight of a warm meal makes his stomach growl, and the tantalising aromas make his mouth water. The last months in the forests, food became scarce as Russia’s troops closed in on them cutting off access to supplies. The prospect of a meal that would leave him feeling full was too good to pass up.
“I assume we can skip the pleasantries?” Ivan greets him as he opens the cell door
No. He wouldn’t give in.
A fist to Ivan’s throat.
“I guess not today,” Ivan frowns, placing uneaten food sitting on a table right outside of Tolys’ cell.
Even as the stench of now rotten food fills the air, Tolys’ mouth waters at the unreachable decaying meal in front of him.
Five days later Tolys finds himself back in shackles.
Ivan returns again, this time with a spoon of soup to Tolys’ lips. He turns away much to Ivan’s dismay who pulls him back to face him
“You will eat, one way or another. I don’t think you want to make this far more unpleasant for you than it needs to be. Remember Litva? How I can always bring a few others to assist me to hold you down, push a tube up your nose so that blood gushes out and it feels like it is about to pierce your brain. Remember how it was last time, Litva? you will feel as if you are drowning until it reaches your stomach and hopefully not your lungs, just so I can ensure you eat,”
“Yeah, I fucking remember!” Tolys snaps back finding this whole spiel grating given that he was constantly trying to suppress that memory under seven layers of mental concrete in his brain. Ivan had resorted to this twice when met with refusal. Unpleasant was an understatement. Three times, if one counted the time he wasn’t intentionally refusing to eat. He was sick and he couldn’t hold anything down. Unfortunately for him, Ivan took it as an act of defiance.
“Give me the damn spoon,”
“I cannot.”
“I am not playing your games, Ivan,”
“Litva, you seem to think you are in a position to negotiate. I gave you two choices, spoon feeding you like an infant since your behaviour prior tells me you aren’t ready for the privilege of feeding yourself or by force, those being your only two choices. Now decide and ask me nicely before I decide.”
“Fine,” Tolys relents.
“Alright then,” Ivan suddenly gets up, alarming Tolys.
“Wait!”
“I figured you decided to let me choose for you, but it looks like you changed your mind,” Ivan smiles. “Last chance Litva, tell me which option you would prefer.
Tolys realizes he had been picking at the paper thin ice far too long and one more move would mean the ice pick shoved through his nostrils and out of his skull.
Tolys inhales and swallows his pride knowing that this would likely end up being one of the less demeaning things he would be forced to say.
“Please spoon feed me, sir” Tolys takes note of the look on Ivan’s if he was weighing the words in his head, not fully convinced of his sincerity, most likely because it wasn’t. “Because I can’t feed myself!” he hastily adds.
Damn everything to hell.
“Good boy,”
Now Tolys was the one weighing his words trying to determine if torture was preferable to this.
“Litva! You will cooperate, yes?” Ivan’s voice startles him from his contemplations.
“Y-yes, sir!”
“Good, open,”
Tolys accepts the spoonful of the now cold soup, proceeding to eat in silence as Ivan continues periodically holding up a glass of water to drink or feeding him a piece torn from a slice of rye bread along with the occasional praise for his compliance. The pleasant feeling of a no longer empty stomach and parched throat felt like castigation.
Ivan seems to notice the tinge of disappointment from Tolys as the spoon is set down next to the half eaten soup. Tolys hated how observant he was in that regard, catching on to the littlest things as if they were inscribed in bold on his forehead.
“No more, you’ll get sick if you eat too much.” Ivan sighs, “But I think now that you have had a meal, you will be more receptive."
The next few days followed with the same routine with Tolys growing restless from the newfound energy of having sustenance. Ivan visited his cell twice a day and gave him his meal. Ivan still insisting on feeding him and did so usually giving some lecture that Tolys had the habit of tuning out as much as he could get away with, nodding periodically in agreement with whatever Ivan was going on about, a skill he learned after centuries of living with Feliks whose conversations would usually consist of him happily spending half the day telling larger than life stories, greatly exaggerating the details of his exploits and gallivanting. He felt a little bad about tuning him out so much as he would gladly take Feliks’ hours long conversations, over Ivan’s lecturing any day. He would take Raivis and Eduard at their worst when they were long past usual brotherly bickering into much more dangerous territory. Perhaps having the basics of survival met, it was giving him more time to feel the pain of separation from them.
One day, Tolys decides to ask Ivan about Raivis and Eduard.
“You said they missed me, are they alright?”
“They are fine, Litva,”
“When can I see them? Can you bring them here or maybe you could…”
Ivan cuts him off, “Litva, enough!”
“Please!”
“I said enough!”
“Please, you know what it’s like, you have sisters who you miss and care about too!”
“Interesting, you care about them but you leave them in an instant for months and even years without a word, not even goodbye. You see yourself as something destined for more than they are. You still see yourself as their ruler and they are nothing more to you than claimed territory. You still see yourself as the Iron Wolf so of course you don’t see yourself as equals. Perhaps you are correct in some regard, you aren’t equals, you are lower than a mangy flea ridden, diseased mutt!” Each pause is punctuated with another hit to the jaw or stomach. “You abandon everyone who you claim to care about the moment you see it fit! Do you actually believe they still love you after that!" Ivan only ceases his beating when Tolys falls to the floor, Ivan sits down picking pulling him up so that the half conscious Tolys was propped up against Ivan who was caressing the other’s now bruised and bloody face, knowing the truth of what he said didn’t matter, sowing the seeds of doubt in Tolys’ mind was all it took.
“I still love you Litva, I will always care for you. Even when you are bad, and don’t listen, and lie. All you need is a firm hand to help you understand. I will be nice and show you how to behave and I will care for you and you will be good and you will be happy.
Tolys realizes his grave error in mentioning Ivan’s sisters and the danger laced in Ivan’s voice tells him the axe will fall at any moment. The question was when.
*****
“Get up!” Tolys woke with a jolt as Russia pulled him up from the concrete. Before Tolys could react he found his hands and feet back in shackles and quickly lead through the dimly lit halls only coming to a halt when they reach a corridor leading to a dead end where a simple wooden table was situated, along with a few buckets of water which rested beside the table leg while a bar of soap and rag lay on the table.
“You’re filthy.”
Tolys takes off the clothes that were in a state of disrepair after having functioned as his only set of clothes since he had been captured. He shivers as a pail of frigid water is unceremoniously dumped over his head courtesy of Ivan. He grabs the harsh soap, scrubbing his skin raw to get the dirt and sweat that had accumulated. That seemed to take his mind off of Ivan’s inescapable gaze at least for a few moments. He had been nude countless times before Ivan but it never became any less uncomfortable. Ivan seemed to enjoy taking in his handiwork, countless scars criss crossing his strafed back, straight lines that marked deep lacerations from the knife when Ivan was feeling particularly sadistic, burn marks dotted other areas of his skin, a failed escape attempt the reason for the initials of Ivan’s name branded on his side.
Even though his bathing situation was less than ideal, it was still much needed. However, before he could lose himself in his thoughts, Ivan was growing impatient.
“Finish up!”
Tolys hastily snatches the towel Ivan holds out for him, drying himself off quickly.
Tolys is then taken to a chair nearby where he is promptly tied to. He cringes as Ivan runs his fingers through his hair thinking aloud to himself before seemingly coming to a decision.
Soon, the snipping of shears replaces the silence and locks of hair fall to the floor. While Tolys usually kept his hair at shoulder length, his hair had grown past that, becoming quite unkempt in the process. Tolys shivers wishing Ivan would have permitted him to redress in his old clothes at the least.
“Don’t cut it too short!”
“I can’t have you looking like some dishevelled darmoyed,”
He took his country, his clothes, and now his hair, which he had erroneously assumed would remain his own. If this was it, so be it, he thought, he will find two pillars and send this house to the ground.
He begins to panic as Ivan continues to snip away, Ivan stops and Tolys flinches as the pair of scissors is about to be jabbed in his upper arm.
“No!”
Ivan moves the scissors away right as the shears were about to cut through his skin, letting out a small laugh as he watches Tolys try to catch his breath.
“Enough Litva, behave before I shave it all off.”
Tolys goes silent, sitting there for what feels like hours.
Ivan finishes up and unties the binds holding Tolys in place.
“Stay there,” Ivan commands and Tolys obeys as Ivan begins rummaging for something out of Tolys’ sight.
“I think we are ready now, yes?” Ivan returns and before Tolys can register what is occurring, Ivan quickly attaches a collar meant for a dog tightly around his neck, complete with a metal tag that Tolys couldn’t make out what it said. Ivan attaches a leash to the collar nearly choking him as he tugs the leash causing Tolys to stumble to the floor.
Tolys tries to stand himself up but is pushed back on all fours.
“No puppy, there we go just like that,”
Ivan’s words from the night before echo in his mind.
All you need is a firm hand to help you understand. I will be nice and show you how to behave and I will care for you and you will be good and you will be happy.
“Wait! Please I…”
“Shh, no barking,” Ivan hushes him.
Tolys is led through a different hallway from the one he entered when arriving from the cell. He just barely is able to read a clock he passes that reads five o’clock before he is dragged up a flight of stairs and taken to a door that Ivan opens revealing an unfamiliar courtyard surrounded on all sides by the painted white stone brick walls of the building. Tolys mistakenly assumed he was being held in Ivan’s main estate, this leaves him with a sinking feeling in his stomach as he realizes that he has no idea where Ivan has been keeping him since his capture.
Ivan pushes him lightly to coax him outside but Tolys remains frozen in place.
“Please, let me go retrieve my clothes,”
“Dogs don’t wear clothes,” Ivan replies, forcing Tolys out into the courtyard. “And next time you address me, you will refer to me as Master, that is, if I grant you permission to speak.”
The ground beneath him was wet and muddy from the snow that had melted except for the many patches that the sunlight couldn’t reach. The sky was a shade of dark grey as sunrise was hours away, clouds covered the moon and wind rustled the branches of the trees that yet to show any signs of life that signified the end of the long and unforgiving Russian winters. Tolys wonders if it was about to rain, or worse snow, shivering at the thought.
Ivan in contrast appeared to be quite excited and content, “Soon, the flowers will start to bloom Litva, it will be lovely won’t it pet,”
Tolys stares at his hands, fighting the instinct to curl himself inward to try and warm himself up somehow. His lack of response is not taken well by Ivan who pulls out a Cossack’s whip out of his long coat. “You don’t know how to behave do you? That’s okay, we have all day for you to learn! It’s easy, all you have to do in this game is do exactly what I tell you,”
The next few hours were then spent with Ivan calling out commands over and over with any refusal being met with the whip in response. Tolys refused to give in to something so demeaning so quickly, so his back was torn to ribbons long before he even began to consider obeying Ivan’s commands.
Sit. Stay. Roll over. Lie down. Beg.
Ivan was in good spirits, his deceptively innocent and playful disposition unfazed by any decision Tolys made. Tolys knew well by now that at times like this, his master was at his most dangerous.
He continues to pull at the leash both literally and metaphorically despite knowing that truth.
When he finally begins to do as commanded, Ivan continues to make sure there wasn’t even a moment of hesitation from Tolys by forcing him to repeat that same command dozens of times. Hesitation was also met with more punishment and so was imperfection.
The sun had reached its zenith and Tolys is now too exhausted for his mind to even form a coherent thought. His back is bloody and his ribs bruised, dirt and mud is caked on his hands and knees and the grass stains patches of his skin.
Ivan decides on making him run laps around the yard after growing bored of teaching. However, later, he changes his mind, having decided on a better game, picking up a small branch of rotted wood that he had found while waiting for the other to finish relieving himself after making the mistake of admitting he needed to do so.
“You know, puppy? Sometimes I think you act out because you want to play. You must be so excited and have so much energy that of course you misbehave. You just want to play with me, yes?”
Ivan holds the stick in his hands for Tolys to see.
“Go fetch,”
Tired of hours of demeaning humiliation, Tolys refuses.
“No,”
Ivan doesn’t wait for Tolys to take this back and promptly decides on administering a particularly brutal beating that leaves Tolys begging for mercy between sobs.
“Please! I will behave! I swear!”
Ivan stares down at him in disbelief.
“Please, Master! I swear!
“Go fetch,”
He begins to play the part of his new role. Total obedience. The whole time he makes sure he feigns right amount enthusiasm that Ivan demands come with his submission. He is spared the whip but not the unpleasant taste in his mouth left when his master praises him, losing his sense of pride and dignity leaves him feeling nauseous and wondering if refusal is the better choice after all.
Soon Ivan gets bored with this game just like the last and looks at Tolys with a smirk.
“You are a good puppy who does as his master tells him, correct?”
Tolys nods.
“No. No. I need to hear you say it,”
Tolys gulps, “Yes, Master.”
“Well, you see, playing with you all morning has gotten my new boots that I’m quite fond of very dirty, I don’t want them getting worn and in disrepair so quickly.”
“Clean my boots, puppy,” Ivan commands.
Ivan feels nothing but pure satisfaction as Tolys begins dutifully licking away the debris from his boots.
“Make sure they shine,” Ivan states simply when Tolys looks up at him for his approval to be finished with his task.
Tolys focuses on only the boots as if they were all that existed.
“Such a good boy! Such a good obedient little puppy!” Ivan gestures for Tolys to finish, before he begins reaching in his coat pocket, until he is holding out a small biscuit in his hand.
“Go on, good behaviour warrants a reward, yes?” Tolys forces himself forward as Ivan bends down and sets the treat down on the ground ruffling Tolys’ hair as he forces himself to choke down the dry, bone shaped biscuit which wasn’t much better than the mud covered leather of his master’s boots.
If only this game were simply about obedience then perhaps there would be no need for such conflicted thoughts. Tolys knew better.
This wasn’t his game to play. It was his master’s, whose only objective to win is ensuring Tolys fails no matter what.
*******
Eventually, as the sun slowly begins to set, Ivan is satisfied with his pet’s progress. He decides to wrap up the games upon seeing the worn out face of his beloved companion.
He sees how disheveled his poor puppy is and begins to carefully tend to his wounds and is happy to see his pet finally remain calm and allow him to clean him off gently. He knew that there was much more work to do to ensure complete obedience. He knew it might take decades to turn the iron wolf into a docile lap dog but in this moment, he decides there is no harm in showing his pet the benefits of knowing his place even if this submission was temporary. Ivan takes him inside to his office and places him in a crate with soft blankets lining the bottom.
After such a long day it was no surprise his puppy quickly got used to his crate despite his weak whines in protest at first. Now he was curled up and fast asleep peacefully.
It was a shame it took so much to encourage this. But it was worth it.