WARNING: This is rather short and gory. I left the girl a blank, mostly. It can be an OC or just some random girl. Also, let me know if you think the rating needs to be boosted.


There are many stories which circulate between the nations on a certain aspect of Russia's physique. Namely, his heart. More than once, his heart has literally fallen out of his chest. Nobody but himself and one other has ever known the true story of why he's like this, and the other has been dead for a very long time. However, this is all about to change as I tell the story of how Russia came to be heartless.

It all started on January 10th, 1893. St. Petersburg was full of activity as the floods of people were trying to see the Russian premier of "Magic Flute". It was also the day Ivan Braginski, the personification of Russia, fell in love. He noticed nothing about her but her eyes, which he fell into and drowned in within seconds of her being on the stage. She was not a main character and had no speaking parts, but she stole the stage of his mind from the first second.

He had to know her name.

After the show was over and he managed to meet her and find out her name, he had to know her everything. Russia was not a romantic man, but those moments brought him such resonating joy that he could not keep himself away from her after that. He tried reminding himself of the consequences of falling in love with a normal girl, but any persuasion from himself or other nations fell on deaf, love-struck ears. The young woman was, miraculously, in love with him as well and plans of a wedding bloomed fully not even a month after the first meeting. Once again, Ivan did not care of the consequences sure to come by reasoning he would still have many years as she was a healthy, happy young woman.

It was September, less than a week from the wedding, when he was proved wrong. Healthy lives can be cut short very quickly and very sharply.

Russia was going to visit her when he was stopped by hearing groans of pain in the alleyway he was passing. He paused. Not very long ago, he wouldn't have done so as all humans died, but his beloved had a pure heart and always wished to help. He had taken it upon himself to try to be more like her unless doing so would hurt is country.

He went into the alley and queried if the person was alright or needed help in any way. The response was a yes and a decline on the offer. The voice was gravel and thick, but did not sound pained as the groans had though the tone of voice was the same. Ivan continued on to his beloved's home, being let inside by her father while her mother called for her. After a few moments of no response, her mother went upstairs in search of her.

A scream shattered the air and Russia's heart. For it was so full of grief, there could be only one cause for it. He hurled himself up the stairs and to his beloved's room. Still today, the scene plagues and haunts him every single time his eyes close.

Blood, thick and vivid, was splattered across the walls and soaked the floor with Ivan's love and soul gazing towards the ceiling in the middle of it. The window was open, explaining how, but Ivan did not notice as he could not remove his eyes from the gaping and gushing hole where her heart once was. Had he been thinking anywhere near clearly, he would have realized the next act wouldn't work, but he was far past logic.

He fell to his knees beside her, passing her faint mother and withdrew his favorite knife. The mother screeched at him not to do it, for she had some idea, but he did not notice once again. He drove the knife into his chest, right above his own heart. He slightly noticed the pain, but it was not where it would be if he were human and mentally stable.

More blood covered the scene as he sliced himself some more, slicing through everything keeping his heart in its place. He made a full circle around it, oblivious to all physical pain. He then dug his finger in around it, being more gentle with it as it was soon not going to be his. Ivan pulled his heart from his chest and held it up a moment, watching as it continued to beat steadily in his hand. That was why he believed it would work. A nation's heart only stopped if the nation ceased to exist.

He took his heart and carefully worked it into the slot where her heart used to be. He waited in silence for it to work, but she remained still except for the jagged circle of flesh still rising and falling to the pumping beat of the Russian people. It finally sunk in with him that it wasn't working when the hand of hers he held grew colder. He noticed a straight line on her neck as she grew paler. She had been dead before her heart was robbed. Ivan felt something snap within him. The crying scream could be felt throughout the entire nation.

He leapt up from his fetal position and out the second-story window. He noticed miniscule drops of blood on the dirt ground and followed them quickly. When he had snapped inside, absolute adrenaline-filled fury had enthralled him, needing the revenge on the heartless heart-collector. The drops were tiny and sparse as the murderer had taken great caution. Not enough, though. The blood led to none other than the back entrance to the dark alley he had paused at before. He listened and heard light snoring. The perpetrator had enough guts to sleep calmly after that, but his slumber would not last.

The last sight the cannibal would have was of a wild-eyes, platinum blonde man missing his heart driving gory fingers into his heart, slowly and agonizingly stopping it with the last words heard being an emotional voice commanding "Раскрошить в аду".


Раскрошить в аду: Crumble in Hell.

Not my usual type of work, but I just wrote this entire thing from an inspiration hit. I should be doing homework or working on Second Chance, really. Because I just finished it, let me know of any grammatical errors. I spell-checked and looked it over for errors, but I can't catch them all. Also, I used Google Translate, so let me know if the Russian is wrong. F, F, & R!~