January, 1990

Winter swirled over St. Petersburg.

The Nevsky Prospekt lay still and silent, covered by a vast expanse of glistening white snow. Below, the Neva River was a jagged tundra of thick ice, moving sluggishly under the gray cloak of the early morning sky.

From a window in the far-off Winter Palace, Toris Lorinaitis gazed out at the city, a troubled expression set into his features. However peaceful the city may seem, he knew the danger that lurked deceptively beneath the surface. He was tense, but so was everyone else; it was almost as if the collective world were holding its breath, waiting and bracing themselves for the inevitable.

He felt that at any moment, the silence of the city would be shattered, and the wail of air raid sirens would split the as planes droned overhead and bombs fell on the city. Toris didn't know when this would happen, or even if it would happen, but that made it even worse. The tension, the unbearable waiting, filling him with a sense of permanent dread that he could not rid himself of. He spent his days haunting the endless rooms of the Winter Palace, a lonely and slender figure made gaunt by the tension of the Cold War. His anxious thoughts were divided between the rapidly deteriorating relationship between Russia and America, and the Iron Curtain that had plunged a knife deep into the heart of Germany. He wondered if it were possible that his entire world could cease to exist in a single, silent second.

Toris turned from his vigil to glance at Ivan, who was asleep amid the tension. He was struck by how peaceful the man seemed, and Toris ached for that same peace. Even in his sleep, his dreams were haunted with nameless faces and tortured, twisted bodies. The war had left its mark on him, just as it had everyone else.

Don't think about such things, urged a small, nagging voice in his mind. What can you do but keep on living? But what was the point? What was the point of living this terrible half-existence, living in fear of the unknown?

A bitter gust of winter wind howled against the palace windows, sending a shudder deep into Toris' heart. You wanted to live in a warm place with sunflowers, he thought, gazing at Ivan. So how did you end up here?

He suddenly felt the desire to leave the palace; even the frigid air of the winter morning would be preferable to this stifling atmosphere. Stumbling in his hurry, Toris stepped out into the city, welcoming the sudden rush of ice cold air. The entire city of St. Petersburg was blanketed with the burden of a heavy snowfall, almost too blinding to look at. Toris shielded his eyes from the glare and began to walk, growing increasingly upset with every step. Anxious thoughts plagued him at every turn, and the bustling of each passerby only reminded him of what he did not have: freedom.

He clumped heavily through the snow in an attempt to distract himself, but it was no use: the idea had already caught fire in his mind, sending heat surging through his body. His cheeks were flushed with the wild desire for it, and suddenly, it was 1918* again. It was as if he were a bird in a cage; the door had been locked for so long that he was no longer sure if he had wings.

Growing increasingly upset by these thoughts, Toris barely noticed as he rounded the corner and stepped right into someone.

"Yo, Toris!"

Befuddled, Toris automatically took a step backwards, confused by the rush of memories that the familiar voice triggered. It sounded just like – but no, he couldn't be here, not here –

"Hey Toris, how's it goin'!"

Impossible.

"Alfred?"

"Shh!" Alfred hushed, his eyes darting anxiously about. "Way to almost blow my cover, Toris!" he exclaimed, lowering his voice.

"Sorry," Toris whispered. "But you know your disguise is completely see-through, right?"

"What!" Alfred cried, apparently forgetting his need for silence as he looked at the Lithuanian with an injured look. "This disguise is gold!"

"A-Alfred… it's a mustache."

"I know, isn't it great?" Alfred beamed, and the movement caused one side of the mustache to droop precariously.

Toris' mind struggled to process the sheer amount of confusion. "What are you doing here?" he asked, keeping his voice down to a low murmur.

"I know I'm not in the best of situations with Ivan right now. But it was imperative that I speak with you," Alfred replied, his voice pitched low with urgency. The sudden seriousness of Alfred's words piqued Toris' curiosity, and he wondered what could be so important that it had brought the American into the heart of danger.

"Do you remember living in my house?" Alfred asked suddenly, his voice pitched with urgency.

"Of course," Toris replied, caught off-guard by the sudden change in topic. Life with Alfred had been simple and kind, and he had liked making himself helpful to the other nation.

"You said you liked it there, because you felt free," Alfred continued, his blue eyes strong with determination as they looked into the other nation. "Whenever you helped me, it was because you wanted to – not because you had to. The point I'm trying to make, Toris, is that you can't live with Ivan forever. Become independent."

It took a moment for the words to register, and Toris could only stare back at Alfred, the shock in his eyes reflecting the determination in the other's. "Now?" Bewildered by the sudden turn of events, Toris only shook his head as Alfred pressed on.

"But Estonia and Latvia –"

" –are just as eager to become independent as you are. They look up to you," Alfred pressed. "If you do this, they'll realize that it can be done, and Ivan's hold on the globe will lessen. Toris…they need a leader. They need a hero."

The words caught Toris' attention, and his eyes widened. "Isn't that your job?" he asked hesitantly.

Alfred laughed, but regret flitted across his face. "Not this time."

Toris gazed out across the river, lost in his thoughts. For the longest time, he had thought of himself as a bird in a cage, but only now did he realize that it was one thing for the door to open, and another to take the chance and fly away. He turned back to Alfred, his own eyes determined as he met the nation's steady gaze.

"Maybe it's time to test these wings."

*1918 is when Lithuania first declared independence; however it was later occupied during World War II. Lithuania regained permanent independence in 1990, making it the first former Soviet satellite to do so. Lithuania's declaration of independence inspired other countries to break away, and this resulted in the eventual dissolution of the USSR in 1991.

Disclaimer: There is no documented historical evidence that the United States ever urged Lithuania to declare independence. The Lithuanian people did that by themselves.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one; it's been floating around for about 3 months. This story was hard for me to release because I think it's very controversial. The title is taken from the Iron & Wine song. Please leave me a review and tell me what you think!