Ivan always knew the world would end with them.

Well, not always, but he saw something familiar in the younger nation's eyes. An endless blue, like a wide-open sky: a promise of a new hope for a new age.

Everyone seemed to think that the world would end in ice and fire. It was an ongoing argument, which one it would be. Personally, Ivan believed it could be both.

At the time, he thought he knew. It seemed simple. He was ice, and Alfred was fire.

It seemed obvious. The sun-haired boy was filled with a passion to become great, and his fate always seemed to be intertwined with flame.

Of course, those were often attacks made upon him, not by him.

Only many years later did Ivan reconsider that theory. Something had changed in Alfred's eyes. When their gazes met, there were no sparks, no fizzling flames. There was just cold determination and icy threat.

Even after the fittingly named Cold War ended, Ivan could tell something had changed in the land of the free.

Or had it?

For how long had they been blind to the boy's true nature?

For how long would they continue to push him towards the edge?

Even though it hurt when Ivan was insulted, he could see that it hurt Alfred more. He obviously needed his fellow countries to support him, to tell him that he wasn't useless or evil.

Too bad no one seemed to realize that.

No, Alfred was ice. The problem was, so was Ivan.

Still, there were others. How fitting that the eldest country (or so they thought) could take the role of flame. Ivan could see the passion in his ally's eyes, even though it was dulled by centuries upon centuries of hardships and sorrow. Alfred's elder brother was volatile and often acted on whims. In fact, if Ivan were to sort all the countries, the vast majority would make up fire.

Ivan still believed the world could fall to both fire and ice. They were sitting on a time bomb.

The only question was, who would light the fuse?

Or rather, who had lit it first?

Ivan could think of many possibilities. Perhaps it was Antonio, when he reached the New World. It could have been Arthur, when he began his empire. Maybe it was Ludwig, when he began the Second World War, or Roderich and Elizabeta when they began the first. It could have been the Roman Empire, all those years ago, when he rose or even when he fell.

Maybe it could be Ivan's fault.

Or maybe it was Alfred's.

Ivan kept his thoughts to himself. He would watch the world fall, and then maybe, he could be free.

Free of responsibility, of war and sorrow. Of any feeling at all.

It was possible for a nation to die.

Ivan had theories on that, but chose not to voice them. The other nations seemed to think they'd live forever.

He could think of a few who probably suspected it. Yao had seen empires fall; he probably waited for his turn to fade. Feliciano and Lovino had seen their grandfather die.

Ivan wished he could see into Alfred's mind. Did he know? It seemed impossible that he wouldn't, but not even Ivan had seen what he truly thought. As far as he knew, no one had.

What lay behind his facade of bravado?

Ivan thought he saw it once. Alfred had let the mask down around him many times during their long standstill. He had been threatening, a deadly mix of cold determination and sheer will. Indeed, it took a lot to become a true country, and Alfred was no exception.

The whole thing almost amused Ivan. It was an experiment, he supposed, to see how long it would take for everything to crash and burn.

Or freeze, rather.

Ether would work.

So... I might have started another story? I'm still working on it, so keep an eye out! Please leave a review, or go check out some of my other stories! I have a bunch of Hetalia stuff.