Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia…
Subjects:
Alfred (America)- God/King of the Sun
Ivan (Russia)- God/Spirit of Winter
Warnings: Angst. Death (Sacrificial).
AN: I have always found myself sympathizing with Ivan, and though I may very well be wrong in saying so, I don't think he's as much of a monster as he's often portrayed as in some fics. This is just an opinion though and I'm not the one who created Hetalia so I may never know.
Legend Tells
- Ivan of Winter -
Hard times had befallen the lands. Winter had come early and the harvests bowed ominously to the touch of white fingers and cool breath, the shadow of the beast yet to come. The people of the lands watched with weary eyes and bitterly wrought mouths as the skies continued to drowned the world with tears of ivory, reaching every grain and touching every tree in their endless descent.
The people chanted sweet promises of servitude and called out to the falling skies above for the Great Beast to be turned back, for the winter to be gone or be passed, for the sun to take its throne upon blue gems and shine forth its warm embrace, to bring back the spring and summer and fall.
Ivan, they chanted, Ivan, the Great Beast of the falling sun, Ivan, the white God who cries the sky white and breathes death, Ivan, bringer of winter. Go back, go back, and let our lands be in peace and we promise a sacrifice of beauty and blood. Let the sun shine through with his hair of golden fields and eyes of wild rivers, skin as dark as warmed soil and arms long as mountaintops. Ivan, Great bringer of winter and cold and death, take this sacrifice and be content, call back the sun in your stead and we shall run the rivers red should you so desire.
And the knife falls, mortal breath be gone as the heart goes still, and the snow becomes a tomb as veins of red reached upon its endless white surface and soak deep into the soil beneath where even the sun will not reach, will not see with his wild blue eyes.
Eyes of pale reflection, rimmed red with blood and tears, face to the falling sky, to be forever embraced by winter's white fingers and cool breath, a symbol of beauty and hope soon to be forgotten beneath winter's cool gaze.
Still they chant.
Ivan. Ivan, the Great Beast of the falling sun, Ivan, the white God who cries the sky white and breathes death, Ivan, bringer of winter. Go back, go back, and let our lands be in peace and we promise a sacrifice of beauty and blood. Let the sun shine through with his hair of golden fields and eyes of wild rivers, skin as dark as warmed soil and arms long as mountaintops. Ivan, Great bringer of winter and cold and death, take this sacrifice and be content, call back the sun in your stead and we shall run the rivers red should you so desire.
But the beast does not turn back and he does not call forth the sun in his stead, he is silent and his mighty head is bowed before the symbol of beauty and hope left at his feet, tainted red with blood and tears. He hands, so large and cold and as hardened as the ice that seizes his heart, are surprisingly gentle as he takes the mortal hand in his palm and whispers a solemn prayer.
Follow my tears to the skies above and take your place among the stars, for you are not mine to take as your eyes reflect not my gaze and your hand warms not my skin. May my tears be your stairway to eternal peace, for my eyes see your pain and shall cry in your stead until there are no more tears to shed.
The winter raged that year, and the snow thickened, and the land drowned in sorrow.
AN: If you liked this and wish to read more please feel free to check out the other piece to the "Legend Tells" series.
To Potential Flamers: I have no background in most mythology or other subjects of that nature, this is simply a story that will be based off my imagination so please do not start attacking me due to one of the characters being similar to an ancient mythological being but being inconsistent with the details of the figure because I probably won't even know who your talking about. Thank you and I hope you find it entertaining at the least.