I've seen quite a few stories about the love between a human and a Nation, and I knew I had to throw my hat into the ring. Ladies and gents, I present my argument against falling in love with a country! Most countries in the story are, as always, not my own characters. All humans OCs are mine. Rated T for the various swearings and sexy times. Russia's characterization is carried over from my story "A Gift of the Heart." This story is set "In the near future" - anything that reflects current national issues is a coincidence.* I always appreciate reviews, both the good and the critical, so thank you in advance if you choose to leave one!
*Update! As I was working on this story, a couple of the events that I had planned actually came to pass in actual Russia. I assure you, I had my notes ready BEFORE the protests in Russia occurred, and I am not riffing on current events. It is really and truly a major coincidence.
A warm summer wind ruffled the leaves in the park, the shushing of the trees momentarily drowning out the shouts of children and the ever present roar of traffic. Groups of old pensioners took up every available bench, chessboards lying between each pair. Every man, whether playing or watching, mulled over the boards, sighs and tsks and murmurs made for each move of every board. Every board but that of a young man's. The tall, stocky man was alone, sitting on a bench in the middle of the group; no opponent faced him, no spectator watched over him. The breeze ruffled his sandy hair as he stared at the board, fist against his lips. A hand hovered over the pieces for minutes at a time, then swish, click! A piece was quickly snatched and moved. He played both sides, never favoring one over the other.
Emma shifted from foot to foot, fingering the handle to her satchel. She watched the young man for a moment, biting her lip.
"Come on, girl," she said under her breath. "It's not so hard. A little courage!"
She nodded her head, walked smartly up to the bench with the lone young man, sat down and smiled.
"Good day!" she said, her voice a little loud. The man looked up, a bemused expression on his face. He stared at Emma, his eyes flickering a bit before clearing. A small, somewhat sheepish smile brushed his lips. He said nothing. Emma cleared her throat.
"Health to you!" she said, smiling a little wider. "I notice you play alone! Every time in the park I am, to play you are alone, actually. Never with these nice men." She waved a hand toward a group of pensioners. "I think to self, very terrible this is."
She paused. The man continued to stare with his small smile.
"I think, maybe I can to play, and you will never be alone," Emma barreled on, nervously grabbing a bishop from the board and rolling it between her hands. "Chess is very good and better with two, yes?"
The young man watched her hands move back and forth with the piece. There was a small silence between them filled with the sighs and moans of the pensioners.
"Your Russian is only so-so," he said. "I have heard better. Though I have also heard much, much worse."
Emma gasped.
"Oh! You speak English," she said, blushing. The man held out his palm. She dropped the bishop into his open hand. "And you let me struggle through, even though you could tell I spoke it, too."
"I was waiting to see if you had anything interesting to say in my own tongue," the man said as he arranged the pieces on his board. "I was tired of the wait. And your accent was obvious. From Britain?"
"Australia," Emma said, watching the man's hands fly. "Perth."
"Australia. Interesting nation. Very chatty." He straightened the pieces, now arranged in two lines, and turned the board so that white was in front of him. His deft fingers snatched a knight and put it into play. Emma stared at the board, not registering the attack. The young man cocked his head.
"You wish to play, yes?"
"Oh!" Emma's blush deepened. She moved a pawn forward on the board.
Five moves later, her king was cornered. The young man's smile grew a little wider. His eyes flickered.
"Checkmate," he said, toppling her king. Again he arranged the pieces, this time leading with a pawn. Six moves and Emma was defeated. The board was set. Five moves and Emma crumbled. The young man furrowed his brows, his smile still fixed in place.
"You do know this game, yes?" He said.
"Yes!" Emma snapped. She met the man's steady gaze. "Well, I thought I did," she mumbled. "I guess I was wrong."
"Hmmm."
In the distance a church bell chimed the time. The man cocked an ear to the sound, swept the pieces off the board, flipped the board, and scooped the pieces into the hollow of the board's bottom. The board folded into a small box, which the man closed with a click. He rose from the bench and held out a hand.
"Call me Ivan," he said.
"Emma." She took his hand and he lifted her to her feet.
"Emma." Ivan nodded. "Your Russian is unpleasant and your chess is awful. I cannot remedy either."
"I see." Emma hung her head.
"Not today, anyway," Ivan continued, pulling out a pocket watch and giving it a look. "But you will come again to the park, yes?"
She snapped her head up, eyes wide.
"It would be rude not to attend to a visitor of Russia's," he said with a shrug and a smile.
"Yes, then! Of course! I'll…I'll come again!"
Ivan looked at her for a moment, then turned and walked away, right hand up in a wave. Emma held her breath until he disappeared behind a copse of trees, then threw her fists into the air and squealed. The old men on the benches glanced up at her, shook their grizzled heads and attended to the games once more. Emma ignored them, walking quickly out of the park as she pulled her cell from her pocket and dialed.
"Lyudmila? Yes. YES! I know, yes, it went good, very much good! We not to talk very much – what you mean Russian not good when excited?"
Russia ruffled through the pages of the report then closed the two inch binder that contained it.
"I am unsure why you have given this to me," he said, propping his elbow on the report and leaning a cheek against his hand. "You tell me what I must do and I do it. This is my job."
"A flippant response to an important issue."Russia's boss sat across the conference table, hands folded in front of him, eyes narrowed. "I know that you are not as pliable as you claim. Your history precedes you."
Russia shrugged.
"The people believe in you," he drawled. "It is not my place to rise up against you."
"Lies!"Russia's boss slammed a fist against the table. "I know there is a hateful undercurrent in this nation! Yet you refuse to tell me –"
"I am also they,"Russia cut in, lifting his head. His eyes shined. "I would not betray myself."
He shoved the report across the table.
"You should not claim this land. Not now,"Russia said softly. "The people believe in you. They will crave what you crave. For now." He stood. "But not always, sir. And not if you make claims for things that are not ours."
"But you will do what I say," the Boss snarled.
Russia smiled.
"For now."