First Hetalia fanfic! *cues streamers/balloons/triumphant music*
Contained here are kayaks, heterochromia, fluffy dogs, creepy Russia, and references to two unnamed characters.
Now that you're all excited, I have to add this little thing:
*da-da-DAAAAA~~DISCLAIMER* I do not own Hetalia, Alaska, or any other nation mentioned here. I would love Russia's nuclear arsenal, but that won't happen for awhile.
She sat on the coast, watching the waves rush in and out of the little cove. They pooled over the pebble beach, burbling and reaching upwards. Snow-covered hills sloped down hill, and she had left footprints in the white landscape. During winter, there was no green. Everything was a mass of white and grey. Her eyes stared ahead to the straight horizon in front of her, where grey seas met gray, clouded skies.
To her left, a skin-covered kayak lay foundered on the shore. It was long, well-built, and beautiful. She had built it herself as a young one. How dearly her people loved their kayaks, their fish, and their whale meat. The kayak was as much as part of her culture as the people themselves. Across her lap lay the paddle with its heavy, sturdy wood.
To the right, her faithful dog sat, panting. He fluffed out his pure, white coat against the wind. He was sturdy and strong, with big paws and a wolfish face. Russia called it a Siberian Husky, but she knew better. This was the native dog; he didn't come from Siberia. He was completely hers, blood tied to the Northlands as firmly as an anchor to the ocean floor. He looked at her with loving eyes, and she couldn't help but reach out and stroke his fluffy fur. He licked her hand and smiled at her.
She was a strange sort to the unaided European eye. She had thick black hair tied into one long braid that ran down her back. Her skin was dark, and her face was quite round. On top of all that, she had "heterochromia", a long, useless English word for her one brown eye and one blue eye. She was dressed in thick reindeer skins.
She sighed, looking at her white dog, and spoke:
"Well, here we are. How long have I lived? Maybe a thousand, two thousand years. And we all thought we were the most dominant, that we decided out futures. The Inupiat, Aleuts, and others. We were the top of the world."
She paused, feeling pent up emotion spilling out.
"First, the man with 'tomatoes' came. He claimed some piece of paper written by a man across the great ocean hundreds of years ago said that he owned me. Who is this man to decide who owns? I am my own. But he left. And the creepy guy replaced him. He killed our otters; he killed our people with horrendous diseases. He acts innocent, but he's sinister. He comes from across the great ocean, this Russia. And he says he owns me. Then, there's that other one, with the thick eyebrows. He just watches, eating strange, disgusting smelling food."
The dog's eyes hadn't moved from her face.
"They're so—bigoted. They think they can trample over everything, and treat other places like refuse." She took a deep breath, then said softly, "And they don't even like me. They call me useless. They call me inferior. They call me an 'Eskie'."
The dog couldn't understand her, but her whimpered and put his head underneath her chin. She smiled sadly and petted a hand on his shoulder.
"Oh, good boy. The world's changed so fast that I don't know what to do."
The waves crashed up against the shore, as if calling her.
"Let's go, boy."
The dog wagged his tail as she stood. He jumped into the forward opening on the boat. She pushed it down the slope and into the water. It hit quietly, and she jumped in behind her dog. They paddled out towards the sea, where she could get away from all the problems on shore. She could feel the sun and salt spray on her skin and pretend that everything was okay.
"Worthless. Even Latvia is more useful than you are," he said softly, but even his softest voice unsettled her. She looked down at her feet, letting her bangs form a sheltering curtain to hide his deep blue eyes. The tall Russian man stood mere inches from her, and his anger radiated like a blazing bonfire. She hadn't meant to hunt. She had gone out in the canoe to have some time of her own. Sometimes, she wished she could sail into the distance and forget all her troubles. But she always had to come back to the land, to the reality of things. She hadn't hunted; she didn't want to hunt. And she didn't hunt.
But Russia expected the otter furs. He needed the otter furs. It was the only reason he was here, the only reason he had taken her as a territory. The furs were valuable back in his country, and he had a sense of entitlement to them. But he wasn't. She shook with frightened anger. They were her otters. This was her land. And he didn't own anything.
He struck her across the face. Hot blood spurted from her ice cold lips, running down the right side of her chin. She said nothing. Nothing she could say would matter anyway.
"Eskie," he hissed under his breath.
The word had more effect on her than his punch. It weighed on her like a heavy weight.
"You're nothing. You're worth nothing. You have nothing here in this frozen wasteland, this …polar bear garden."
She bit her lip, drawing more blood to its bruised surface, trying to keep herself from breaking into tears. Her people needed her to be strong, but how come she was falling apart at mere words? She looked up to see the landscape around her. Summer brought green fields below the mountains, dotted here and there with blue forget-me-nots. They rose into pine forests which gave way to deep purple mountains with snow caps. How could he say this land was not beautiful?
Russia sighed. It sounded more like a snake's hiss. She looked back down, staring at her feet once more.
"I don't know what I'm going to do with you, Alaska."
She hated that name. It didn't sound anything like her language. It was a Russian word. He had given it to her. He called her Alaska; he called her Eski. She just wanted him to call her Inuit.
She heard his heavy footsteps and looked up.
He walked away towards his settlement further down the shore. His long, cream-colored scarf billowed in the coastal winds.
Alaska ran. She ran towards her mountains, her home. She wanted nothing to do with this Russian anymore. She wanted everything to rewind back to the time when she had herself, and only herself. When she could roam free and not worry about catching a daily quota of otters. When she was alone.
She ran through a stand of trees, comforted by the dark shadows around her. She had just entered the tall pines when someone grasped her hand. Shocked, she stopped stock-still, the hairs on the back of her neck rising.
Fun Facts:
- Kayaks were invented by the Inuit.
- Heterochromia is common in Siberian Huskies and Alaskan Malamutes.
- The Inuit first began to take power around 1000 AD.
- Eskimo is an Inuit word, but "Eskie" was used as a derogatory term by the European settlers.
- The first one to tell me the identity of the two unnamed visitors to Inuit's land will win a free virtual cookie of *ANY* flavor.
- Russians settled in Alaska in the 1830s to get furs such as otter fur.
- The piece of paper mentioned is the papal bull of 1493 which granted a certain country rights to any land west and south of a certain boundary.
- "Polar bear garden" is actually an American phrase for Alaska brought about in the 1860s. *Oops...mini-spoiler.*
- Do you like creeper Russia? Did I make him too harsh?
- Alaska is a Russian word meaning "the land" or "mainland".
- The Forget-me-not is Alaska's state flower.
- I wonder who the person in the forest is... (You can probably guess. This also receives a free cookie.)
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Adios~ AE