The Cold, fic by failedpklove
disclaimer: I do not own hetalia or any of the characters!
(This fic takes place from Ivan/Russia's point of view.)
It's freezing.
The cold is surrounding me, blowing through my hair, whistling past my ears and face, creeping into my coat and past my thick scarf. It invades me, past my skin straight to my soul. I shiver, and think how I hate the cold. It's stopped me, my army, my people, and my country. It makes us seem like a cold, barren wasteland when we have so much to offer. It hardens the hearts of our people, makes them go crazy, and makes them cry out in pain.
It's so damn cold.
But then again,
The cold is my friend. It helped me when fighting Ludwig—the cold turned him away from us.
The cold gives a sense of security, a feeling of power and metallic strength warmth just doesn't give.
I still wish my country had beautiful fields of sunflowers, warmth emanating from them, bringing life, and joy, and hope for a cold, broken country as only they could.
So, cold…
Other countries could help us escape from the cold. Other countries would help me and guide me, using friendship and love, something my heart had frozen away long ago.
If I only had friends.
The cold is my only friend.
And I laugh and brush the frozen tears clinging to my cheeks off,
I laugh in vain,
In agony,
And in hate-drenched sorrow, for what I do not possess.
It's so cold…
Fin.