How a heart became cold, chapter 1
The young boy slept peacefully in his bed, hugging an old pillow. Outside, the moon was full and the sky dark. The forest, uninviting and scary, was covered in snow. Nothing, not even a wolf, dared disturbing his sleep. But, inside, a man was heading down to the basement. The sleeping boy didn't hear the heavy footsteps going down the stairs in the basement. He didn't see the tall man walking toward him, a cruel smirk on his pale face. The man watched him sleeping, enjoying every seconds before breaking the peace of the moment. He wore a soviet uniform, black and overdecorated. His hair was blonde, almost white, and his eyes were shining of a dark purple, creating an eerie atmosphere around him. This man's name was Ivan Zimavich Braginski, the cruel Soviet Union, land of deadly cold and frozen earth. He stood beside the young boy's bed, watching him. He then hit the boy on the shoulder, hard enough to wake him up. The boy sat up in his bed, lavender eyes wides and fearful, tensed, as the tall man laughed.
-Москва, said the man, I have something /really/ important to tell you.
The boy's eyes widened even more as he looked at the man.
-Д-да, п-папа...?
Ivan's smile grew even wider at his son's stutter.
-You will go to Сибирь and work as an officer in a work camp.
-Ч-ЧТО!?
Moscow quickly covered his mouth, immediately regretting yelling.
-Tsk tsk tsk, don't talk to your папа like that. I thought I raised you better than that.
-П-простите...! -quickly apologized the scared boy.
He waited for his father's violent reaction, eyes closed, a scared look on his pale, almost snow white face.
...
Reaction that never came. The purple eyed man wasn't going to hit his son. He judged that sending him to Siberia was enough. He knew that the silver-haired boy hated to hurt people, so he sent him as an officer.
-Good boy, said Ivan, I'm sending you there because you didn't respect our new soviet rules, да~?
The boy opened his eyes, tears falling down his cheeks. He knew he couldn't do anything to stop his cruel father from sending him to Siberia, he wasn't strong enough, and he was scared, so scared that he didn't answer, paralyzed in fear.
-Now, pack your things. I got you two brand new uniforms, one for зима and one for лето.
Was there even a summer in Siberia? The taller man threw the two uniforms on the bed.
-Put on the winter one, will you? And don't forget the fur hat, it's really cold outside. You won't be able to use your special ability to warm yourself up.
Moscow quietly dressed up. The uniform fitted him perfectly, so did the fur hat. He hated it. He preferred his old uniform, gray, plain and not dark and tick. But he admitted he would really need this coat. Winters in Siberia were deadly, even if he could easily warm himself up. It would take him too much energy, and he would have to stay in bed almost all day.
-Your hair is lice-proof, so don't bring some useless spray.
The boy sighed. His father was right, his hair was practically never dirty, and if lice were to go into it, they would froze instantly and die. He thanked god, even if he shouldn't have, for this ability to froze anything he touched, at least he could avoid one bad thing there. He reached for his suitcase under the bed and put the summer uniform in it.
-You will need soap, socks, ordinary clothes of course, warm ones. You will also need shoes, and medicine. They don't have so much medical things there. I told them to get some, but the generals never listen to me. They say they don't need them. But I know they do.
Moscow put all the items in his suitcase, taking the soap and medicine bottles from the bathroom. He also got a fist aids kit, in case things would get really bad.
-П-папа...? -the silver-haired boy timidly stuttered.
-Mm?
-I-if one prisoner a-asks me for m-medicine, c-could I help them?
-Of course not. They're prisoners, they don't deserve help. -Russia sharply answered.
Moscow looked at his father in horror.
-B-but...!
-No but. Now, finish your suitcase and get ready to leave for Сибирь. A car should pick you up and get you to the nearest train station.
Moscow held back his tears and finished packing his things. He snuck some candies into his suitcase, not really knowing what he would do with them, he just had to. Being pretty poor himself, he didn't really have anything else to put in his suitcase but some general things, like his toothbrush, some cigarettes and a lighter, two books, etc. His father gave him some other directions and he left the house, worrying about what would happen in this camp, and how he could manage to support the sight of malnourished sick prisoners without helping them.
A car with some soviet symbols on it stopped in front of the house. Moscow took a deep breath, still holding back his tears, and climbed in, trying not to think of the future.
-
A/N
So, how do you like this fic so far? Should I continue? I will continue, I know I will X3 I just wanted to write a sad story about Moscow, and just as I finished between shades of gray, I thought "Eh, I should make a story about Moscow's past in Siberia camps!" There it is! It will be really /really/ sad with some feels and stuff. Hope you will like it!
Russian:
Москва (Moskva): Moscow (obviously)
Да (da): Yes
Папа (papa): Papa
Сибирь (Seebir): Siberia
Что (Chto): What
Простите (Prasteetye): I'm sorry
Зима (Zima): Winter
Лето (Leto) : Summer
So that's all for this chapter. Hope you liked it~
Ps: Moscow is like a mix between male!Ukraine, Kretzsky and Jack Frost .3.