You berate me for being weak.
I try to be strong,
But I can not
Hold
On.
I feel weak,
So I am.
I want to be powerful,
But I can not.
Not now.
Not ever.
At least,
Not alone.
If you give me the strength,
I will grow big,
And strong.
People will cower.
People will plead.
People will love me,
For I won't be useless.
Give me the strength
Oh Bringer of Frost,
And I will not
Disappoint.
O_.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._O
(\/) Somehwhere in Russia (\/)
"I am strong now."
A tall man with sandy blond hair stared into the blizzard, his violet eyes blazing with several unnamed emotions. There was a spark of childish glee, with a bit of insanity on the side. There could have also been fear, anger, or sadness...but it was hard to tell. He wore a long tan coat, that hardly looked warm enough to withstand the swirling winterous weather around him. Around his neck, however, laid a beige scarf.
Russia clung to his scarf, as a child would a blankie, or a stuffed bear. It was the only sign of his nervousness.
The Winter howled at him, beating him with ferocious might. Finally, the personification of the dreaded season appeared. Unlike his companion, he wore dark clothes that contrasted with his surroundings. His hair was steel-grey, and his expression sharp. His eyes shined like cool coals in the midst of soft powder.
The man was called General Winter. He tilted his head slightly, looking amused at how Russia cowered before him, the wind knocking his shapeless clothing askew. The General himself looked unfazed, his clothes merely shifting around him as if the harsh conditions were but a summer breeze.
"You are?" Winter finally asked, raising a frost-stained eyebrow.
Russia nodded frantically, as he climbed to his frost-bitten feet. "Y-yes. I have grown large, da?"
Winter smirked. "You look small, compared to me, no?"
Russia looked as though he wanted to argue, saying that it was IMPOSSIBLE to be larger than the ten-foot tall General, but that would invoke possible punishment.
"Y-yes. But I-I will grow bi-bigger," he said to the Season, who laughed in response.
"I'm sure you will try. Whether you suceed or not, well-" Winter smiled. "-that depends on how far you are willing to go."
Russia was knocked onto his bum with a powerful blast of freezing air. Was it possible to get cut from snow? It sure felt like it...
"I am willing to do anything," he shouted hoarsely.
Winter smiled. "You chose the right mentor, rebenok."
O_.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._O
~Current Day World Conference~
Russia shifted, looking uncomfortable. He hated it when the World Conference took place in his country, especially this time of the year. It was odd, really – with him being so lonely, you'd think he'd enjoy the others staying at his place. But no; the last thing he needed was for his...allies? friends?...to experience Winter at his worst.
He shifted again, gloved hands running over the paperwork in front of him. Most of the major Nations had attended, including his sisters and the Baltics. It made him slightly sad, to see how most of the Nations – sans Lithuania (whom was his one and only semi-friends) and America (because he simply didn't care) – avoided him.
"Mr. Russia? Are you alright?" a quiet voice inquired. He smiled slightly, at who it was.
"Ah, privet Mr. Canada," Russia greeted. He always forgot that Canada also didn't ignore him...but the boy hardly talked anyway, so it made little difference. "I am quite well. And you?"
"Oh, I am good..." Canada murmured quietly, smiling, before taking his seat.
The meeting seemed to commence as normal; basically everyone fought, sexual tension zapped through the air, and nothing was accomplished.
For Russia, however, he started to feel almost...ill. About halfway through the meeting, his body started shaking, and he could not get warm. A few of the Nations sitting closest to him glanced his way, but said nothing. Russia merely gritted his teeth, trying to control the random shakes. He slyly pulled out his vodka bottle, taking a few sips of the burning liquid in an attempt to warm his body.
It worked, though only temporarily; soon, the shakes had returned with a vengeance.
When they were dismissed for a short break, Russia quickly rushed to the restroom. He threw up a little bit in the sink, much to his surprise. He truly hadn't felt ill that morning; it was as though General Winter's impending arrival was making him feel sick...but that wasn't possible! He was big, strong RUSSIA, not a wimpy little Colony; he didn't fear anyone, ESPECIALLY not HIM! But still...this fatigue was wearing on him.
He rubbed his brow, before splashing some water on his face. When he looked in the mirror, he winced at the pallor of his skin.
After rinsing his mouth out, Russia returned to the meeting room.
The second half of the conference was borderline torture. Russia felt feverish and nauseous. Most of the Nations gave him questioning looks, and a few even mentioned how horrible he looked.
"Russia-san? Are you feeling well? Your QI is out of whack!" China whispered.
"Yo! Russia dude! Are ya sick or somethin'?" America inquired – rather loudly, Russia added.
"Mr. Russia? Are you needing some pasta? Pasta always makes everyone feel good, ve~!" Italy said with a cheerful smile.
Russia, however, responded to none of them. They couldn't know the real reason he was ill – that this odd, seemingly random illness was NOT brought on by his economy or the state of his land or people. They couldn't know that it was a huge ball of anxiety resting in the pit of his stomach, like a coiled cobra waiting to strike.
His stomach twisted painfully, causing him to sweat again.
He wasn't afraid of General Winter too much...but of the man's harshness...yes, he was afraid.
General Winter and him had a strange relationship. Russia hated and feared the Season, but at the same time, loved him. General Winter bullied and hurt him, sure, but he was also his mentor and a powerful ally. That is why it hurt all the more when the General was harsh to him.
When the meeting finally ended for the night, the Nations made their way to their rooms in the building. Russia, however, returned to his house.
The cool air was suffocating, and seemed to make breathing difficult. Russia bowed his head into his scarf and wrapped his arms around his body, trying to preserve warmth.
Finally, he made it to the field he had to cross to reach his home. He started the long trek across it, as snow started to fall.
With every passing step, the snow fell harder and faster. Russia felt the cold seep into his body, chipping his bones and freezing his bloodstream. His limbs weren't cooperating, and exhaustion was setting in. Every once in a while, he would catch a glimpse of the General, who was glaring at him oh-so-coldly.
"G-G-General...P-Pl-Please!" Russia begged, as he lost his footing, tumbling onto the cold ground. He shivered, trying to climb to his feet, but his body wasn't working anymore.
The General's laugh echoed around him, and Russia curled up in a ball. He vaguely wondered if it was possible for a Nation to die...
And then suddenly, there was warmth. Not a lot, but warmth all the same. Russia opened is eyes, and saw someone kneeling next to him, enveloping him in a warm hug.
"M-Mr. It-Italy?" Russia asked in shock. Italy was shaking as well, not used to the harshness of Winter.
Glancing behind Italy, Russia noticed several other shapes.
The other Nations?! What were they doing here?!
He felt another set of arms encircle him.
"He-hello M-Mr. R-Russia," Lithuania stuttered, holding his friend close.
"Ah! I hate the winter! It's going to freeze my jingle balls!" America cried, joining the group.
"Onhonhon! Come, ma chère! Let us bask in the warmth of a group hug!" France's voice echoed, quickly followed by:
"Let go of me you git! I don't do group hugs! Let me go!"
"Mr. Russia?" a quiet voice asked, as Russia pushed his face into a soft, warm coat.
"Yes, Mr. Canada?" Russia responded.
"You don't have to face Winter alone – at least not anymore..."
Russia squinted through the snow, looking at their huddled group hug. He saw Italy and Germany holding each other close. He saw Prussia, Hungary, and Austria being squished together. He saw his older sister smiling at Estonia. He saw Turkey and Greece – seemingly reluctantly – hugging each other, tightly.
"I know," Russia smiled.
O_.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._O
A/N FLUFF GLORIOUS FLUUUUFF! Don't you just love fluffity-fluff-fluff group hugs, with a Russia-center?! I sure do!
Anyway, I'll be heading to Europe (England, France, and Italy) in a few days, so probably no updates, until I get back. :( On the up side – at least for you guys – I have long plane rides to write! Yippie!
Anyway, thank you for reading, and please review!