Here he is, one more time, one more go-round. This was the best thing that happened every four winters; it's the time of his life, where he could show just how great he is. But this is personal. Sure, it was great last time, visiting Mattie for a little under a month. But he's bitter about it. Yeah, sure, he had the most medals, but he didn't have the most gold. That was Mattie, and hell, Ludwig got one more that he did. This year is going to be great. He's brought out the big boys and girls; he has the biggest team ever. But this is more than just one type of personal, oh no. This is Russia. There is no way in hell that he will lose anything—ever—to that guy. Hell hath no fury like an America at the Olympics. Or Canada at hockey, but this is about Alfred, not Matthew.
...
Canada's been in Russia since early Thursday morning; he's the first one there, but that's not surprising. He's Canada. Everyone knows how Canadians are about the winter games.
...
Ivan gazes upon this accomplishment, this...rebirth. He is new, and he is old, and this is his time. Ivan watched. Ivan heard. Ivan warmed. Ivan froze. It was breathtaking-his dreams, his people's dreams. So strong, so fearless. The snowflakes fell like white sunflowers. The choir, it sang and filled the enormous stadium with the immense glory of Russia. And…fuck. Okay, so maybe the rings were his idea, and maybe one didn't work all the way. But for now, he will not think about that. Even though it does annoy him.
...
The Olympics is one of the few places where he's not forgotten. People remember him, here, they remember his medals and his children, born and raised in the frigid north. He's so proud of them all, marching forward in joy and anticipation, being here and playing for him. They never forget him.
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He can sense the buzz, the excitement. From the figure skater who wouldn't miss it to the moguls woman who limped through the parade to the five-year old kid who just found his life's calling. This is his people, on display, and so damn proud. Even in their sweaters that Bill Cosby would be proud of.
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He has conquered the countries time upon time. This will be no exception. Look at them, look at his children. They will take the world, and the world will welcome it. They will seize the day, and the world will love. Oh, how fun it will be! Look at that pathetic front from America and Canada. They pretend—they act like they will fight. But they shall stand bellow the feet of the victors, their conquerors, and they shall know their place. Yes, they will see the oneness of Russia, and they shall despair. For the glory of Russia!
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Canada is here to win. He's here for his citizens, to watch them compete and cheer for them, for their hope and their dreams that become the hope and dreams of his entire country. Their excitement sings in his veins as he knows that so many people are watching at home, or at work, or while out shopping. He made sure that as many people as possible would be able to watch, with tv coverage and live streaming on the internet. Sometimes, when he watches the games, he wishes that he could be on the ice with them. But then he feels their joy when they score, and he's content to watch.
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America is not as good as Canada at sitting back. He knows Canada would gladly be playing every face off, every jump, every twirl, every slide, but he sits back and smiles and cheers and whoops and hollers instead. Alfred is less content, he is here to win, and he may be guilty of occasionally tapping into his athletes consciousness to be upfront and personal. Sometimes, he will be with them right before they expose their souls to the world. And sometimes, he will just watch with Mattie, because sometimes that's what he needs to do.
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Russia can't sit back, not now. Not when America and Canada are both there trying to take his right. He is here to win. He has already talked to every athlete individually, given them tips and pointers. He's sat through every training and practice session he could. So Russia will be there, and Russia will be strict, but Russia will embrace them all, come hell or high-water. He will do so, because they are his, and he is occasionally an overbearing and overprotective father.
...
America looks at Canada from across the aisles of seats. Canada, being his strangely attuned brother, manages to see America almost immediately. America waves his iPhone and taps the sleek black screen. Canada looks down as his Blackberry as it vibrates in his hand.
"mattie, ur going to want to watch this"
"Alfred, obviously. Why are you texting me?"
'"i just want u to watch. commiebastard hasn't said anything about it, and i know itll be sumthing awsum"
"Please, turn on autocorrect first. And I know it will be interesting; he's been working on it for seven years."
"Fine. But...you're thinking what I'm thinking, right?"
"That we should keep an eye on Ivan?"
"Hole in one."
The brothers looked back up at each other as the magnificent horses started to canter across the sky. They had understanding in their eyes.
...
Ivan knows he's been broken several times over. Ivan knows he's a man who has seen things that should never have to see that. And that is why Ivan stops has to stop his tears as he watches himself through the eyes of his children, his child. The youth and fresh new beauty in his aging austere appearance makes him forget, almost, the pain that he felt. Ivan knows he has been broken, and seen things that should not be seen,. and felt things that should not be felt; Ivan also knows he is strong, and he will see such great things, and feel such joy, and he thanks his children.
Dancing. Nobody knows this about Russia, or rather, they just forget-Russia is the best dancer in the world. Who has the ballet that is fabled? Who has had such balls? He watches his dancers, and wishes he could danced with them. But he is riveted enough to the performance he helped create, and is content.
Russia will admit, the USSR years were idealized. Yes, he will admit it was highly symbolic yet still glossed over. But it is still him, and it is his life, and he will not deny his memory. And he may have been one of the ones smuggling in Beatles recordings.
As the 20th century floats away, it is bitter-sweet. The memories come, the memories go, and now is the future of memories to come.
...
America sees the finding and fading of pain as Russia looks at two periods of strife followed by two eras of glory . He is well acquainted with pain and with conquering the pain.
Canada sees the forgotten memory of glamor and petty politics and butterfly women as Russia stares longingly at Tolstoy's grand ball, and nobody remembers that Russia is just as beautiful as those ballerinas when he dances. He is well acquainted with being forgotten and remembering what nobody else cares to remember
...
Russia stood in solemn dignity as cheers erupted around him for the brilliantly lit chalice and grand fireworks display. He turned gracefully and looked up, gracing those watching with a deceptively innocent smile. The only two watching gazed back and nodded their consent. Ivan turned his falsely crinkled eyes and simple grin into a stare of barley contained fire and a smirk of acknowledgement.
...
Let the games begin.