From a Distance
"The question isn't if it'll ever happen, more so it's when will it happen?"
Somewhere in the Eastern European countryside; there was a tall, somewhat burly but almost child-like Russian, in a large overcoat.
Ivan, his people called him. The personification of the Red Menace to many nations.
He was overlooking the Hungarian capital of Budapest with an unphased expression.
"The question I'm obviously referring to, is the unification of all nations under the glorious, Russian standard."
The imposing figure rambled on.
"Yet still, try as they might, they still resist. Ignorant to the fact that they will become one with me… someday."
The voyeur pulled out a pair of binoculars and gazed at the ensuing chaos in the city bellow.
The Russian saw protesting, rioting, the desecration of Soviet icons. All Signs of undeniable resistance to his reign on the land.
His eyes moved and saw a woman in traditional, military attire, standing on top of a disabled Soviet tank. Her lips moved with much vigor, in what Ivan assumed was a sort of moral-boosting speech and rally for her people.
The proud and sternly defiant woman on the tank was, Elizabeta Héderváry. The leader of this so-called revolution and the embodiment of hope in the Hungarian people.
They cheered and raised their fists and weapons in clear defiance of the Soviet regime.
His… regime.
Ivan felt his teeth clench as he watched the mobilization of Hungarian resistance.
Yet…… his eyes kept returning to the woman who was directing it.
Light brown hair, a delicate face, emerald eyes and clad in a pine green uniform and matching beret. Not an eye sore visually, but in will and defiance.
She was unyielding, stern, strongly-willed in her beliefs and an aura of nobility seemed to encompass her.
Her eyes moved to his general direction, staring from a distance that would of been impossible for any sane person to see, even the least bit clearly.
She was looking at him.
That thing Ivan called a heart; started pumping at a incredulous speed.
His blood however, still ran cold.
She gave a arrogant, confident, self-satisfactory smirk and turned to another direction.
"…….…"
Silence… the noise of the chaos bellow seemed to wane and the only noise that became present to Ivan, was the rustling of the Autumn wind.
Something in the back of the man's mind snapped possibly, yet he managed a smirk of his own.
His expression was that of that a madman. Elated and almost overjoyed.
Words came out, almost hesitantly.
"Such pride, such grace, such confidence, such nobility, such… beauty. All focused towards the wrong cause."
A part of him felt great self-satisfaction, for admitting such a fine specimen to his collective of liberated nations. Almost admiration of a cause opposite to him.
Another part however, wanted to break every fiber of her being.
Break her mind, body, spirit and leave her on the side pavement, begging for mercy.
Who knows, maybe even have his way with her.
To see an embodiment of strength, independence and nobility, broken.
It was all so… decadent, if only she knew…
The ominous figure's smile grew only wider.
"Maybe, maybe she will."
The imposing figure turned around to address his own forces, but his smile never faded.
Author Notes:
I gotta say, this has got to be the most easiest work I've ever had to write or forced myself to write. Must be Ivan I'd assume, loving that sick bastard vibe coming from him. Reminds me of myself actually, guess that's probably why it's so easy (not to mention the freak's talking to himself). Rather short and I think it might also have less mistakes too, but don't count on it.
IvanxAnything's really just good for me. A tall, dark and arguably handsome yandere seme, is more then good writing material. The idea of Russia breaking someone proud and tomboyish as Hungary is also quite… alluring. Possible continuation that Elizabeta may be confronted with Ivan's, "obscene interest" in her.
Historical Footnotes:
Taking place in the 1956 Hungarian Revoluton (again) and the subsequent Soviet retaliation.