Disclaimer: I don't own any of the character used on this silly thing.

This was written for the kink meme~ it was kinda fun so I posted it here as well.


They think ill of you, you know that, but it's easy to live with when you know they can't ignore your power and the authority it brings you to take what you want. This is a lesson you learned in the heart of winter, by its merciless hands that will never get tired of your body. It's not give and take, just take, take and take.

And so you take the scarf that your sister offers, saying, "It's a bit long, isn't it?"

She smiles -which you take as granted- and says, "You'll grow into it, I know you will."

You can't say nothing to that, because it's warm, and you're ready to start wars just to keep this feeling. That's what you do.

They think your ideas are wrong, you know that, but there is nothing wrong with the way your country is being ruled. There's just ideas that work and ideas that don't, and you think that kol-kol-kolkhozy is a wonderful idea, because it brings everyone together. What do they know about ruling vast lands that are wilder that the people they consist of?

It surrounds you, the constant criticism, and you don't know what you should do to make it stop. They say that your red has a foul taste to it, and they say that you're a laughable democracy. Everyone leaves you, and the house is emptier than it has ever been, the only sound besides your breathing being an echo of an aeons old lullaby. You don't know the source, and you don't know how to make it stop, but you know that it doesn't have a happy ending.

They think you are insane, but they can't hear little Anastasia's screams at night, or the cries of the children who had no chance when there was nothing else to eat.

They think you are cruel, but they don't know the sweet satisfaction it gives you to make people know what it is like for you to spend centuries and centuries in the endless white, freeze and frost. Siberia is cold, but it's just in its nature, like all of this is in yours.

"You've grown so tall," your sister says to you one day, when she's not too afraid to approach you. "But I think it's still a bit too long for you," and she says this while playing with your scarf.

There are ideas that work and ideas that don't. Not much has worked for you so far, but since forever ago, you've known one that will never fail.

"Really? I think it's just the perfect length," you smile as you say to her.

She laughs at you, eyes the thing and and says it's filthy. You know it is, it's filthy with history, filthy with you because history is what makes you.

"I never expected you to wear it for so long," she says.

"Don't be silly," you say and gently remove her hand from it. "I'll wear it till the day I die."

And that's what you do.


-FIN-