This is a RussiaxFem!America fanfic. I thought about this story topic for a few weeks and I decided to do it. Inspiration for this goes to Anastasia. Please read on!
"Gah-choooo!" Amelia sneezed louder than a clap of thunder in the Midwest. In the bowels of her large, crammed, dusty, in major need of a cleanup closet full of old things over her past history, she'd practically jumped into a nest of mothballs. Yuckies. "Darn it, where's that old cowboy hat gone to?"
The superpower had an upcoming epic paintball fight next week with Mathias, Kiku, Feliks, Gilbert, and Toris next week and she planned on an ol' American ass kicking. The paintball wars had turned into a once every month thing since a New Year's party few years back, they'd all gotten drunk, found some paint Romano had been using for his easel, and threw all the colors of the rainbow at each other.
And effectively pissing the crude mouthed Italian nation off so bad that he listed every curse in the book at them. Good times.
Now, she wanted to look awesome, hence the hat, but she was sure that it hadn't seen daylight since the 19th century.
Unfortunately, her closet held all her belongings she'd shoved in here over the course of her history. From a painstaking chipped box full of red soldiers, a musket, cowboy boots and hat, flashy flapper dresses, high waisted pants, grunge plaid and band shirts, her closet is enough to fill an American history museum through chronological order.
"Ok hat come out, come out wherever you are!" Cobwebs stuck to her gold hair as she tromped throughout the room. "Man, I swear when I find that hat-"
Whoomph.
The American tripped on a huge saddle, crashing down. "How is it whenever I go in here I always end up falling on the floor?" she thought wrinkling her nose. "I seriously need a maid for this room, provided with a pair of crutches." Now for that hat-
Springing to her feet, her foot knocked into something hard.
It was a wooden chest, two locks shut it tight. It had intricate carvings of dancing bears drawn on the lid, excellent craftsmanship.
"Huh" Amelia wondered where that came from-but then again, she did have a record of shoving not-so-good memories behind her…. But it did look tempting to open it.
"Just find that Western hat and get out." She reminded herself firmly but her curiosity egged her on. It wouldn't hurt to peek would it? Nope!
The clasps on the locks were no problem it opened creakily. America was not prepared for the site that met her.
Crumpled but still proudly folded on top was a red, blue, and white flag she knew well…..
The Russian flag.
A million thoughts raced through the energetic nation's mind at once. How long had this been here? Wait a sec, how in the holy JFK did this end up in her closet? She snapped her head left to right to make sure the tall, Russian nation wasn't hiding behind a book shelf with his creepy pipe at the ready. Whew, well this is weird.
From the state it was in the flag showed signs of old age, the rich fabric now a coarse texture. Signifying something old, but not too old, representing an era and dredging buried visuals not long ago.
"Oh, right. I remember this now, was it really that far away?" Amelia swallowed moving the colored sheet to the side to see the items beneath it.
She wish she hadn't now.
A pile of silks, many secretly written letters, and a music box lay at the bottom looking as though the person that put them inside pushed it in haste or desperation to forget. Her chest tightened while inspecting the small music box gold and emerald linings formatted it, painted vines and tiny ruby chips finished the intricate network.
Tied to it was a necklace in the shape of a flower. Вечность (Eternity) inscribed the centerpiece. The memories were really rolling in Amelia tried to ignore them, except the flag and music box wouldn't let her.
Normally she's not great at remembering other nation's big historical events because around those periods a bad fiasco or a saddening emotionally powerful thing happened that she pushes to the back of her head to rid the pain. But this certain era, no matter how much she ignored it, was an unforgettable part of her life.
Lips wobbling, she flipped out her phone and quickly dialed a number.
Come on, Come on!
"Amelia F. Jones, what are you up to now?" A cranky British accent cracked the silence of the room America grinned happily. Ah Iggy! "It's bloody three in the morning!"
"Heya Artie!" She chirped, forced cheerful grin on her face. She heard a grumble from the grumpy Briton the other line. Cranky pants, guess he hasn't had his morning tea shots. "um, what do you normally tend to do when unwanted memories show up and won't leave ya' alone?"
England sighed on the on the line. Why did America have to call so damn early? But he'd help her none the less, she was his favorite from day one and wouldn't hesitate to assist her.
"Just let them flow America, when I have nightmares from the Thirty Year's war or the bombing of London I let them go, don't try to push it away."
"So just?"
"So lay down and replay them in your head, no matter how difficult it may be." When being a nation, the old hard past parts of your life tend to catch up regardless of the walls you place around your mind and conscience.
"Thanks Artie! You're the-"
Snoring was heard in the upstate part of London faraway.
"Uhhh….Good night!"
Ok then. Amelia leaned against the chest crossing her feet. She pocketed her cell. She had the necklace, and twisted into a small hole in the music box. A low, sweet melody began to play, the top opened two figurines of a beautiful man and woman danced inside.
She breathed in slowly, and out relaxing. She let the memories come and flow like a movie, almost. And she thought back. Remembered.
Remembered a time not very long ago, when she lived in an enchanted world. Elegant palaces and grand parties, the year of nineteen seventeen. She remembered a time of great love and loss. A time that she tried to forget.
A time in Imperial Russia.
Okey dokes. I know the first chapter is short and there are definitely more on the way very soon, but just for a heads up I'm not making this a long drawn out story it will be good, I promise you this is just a foundation for the next chapters to come up. And yes, I know the year of 1917 was a year in World War 1, but I couldn't fit that part in yet the way I was writing. I hope you stand by for the rest of the story.