It's not chapter three of Sleeping Beasts, but this is one of a bunch of stories I've already got written, so I figured I'd put it up here too. It was a gift to Panoramiccc over on tumblr, because she wanted some softie!Ivan.
Disclaimer: Neither Hetalia nor the story "Vasilisa the Beautiful" are mine!
The old book is heavy in Ivan's arms as he makes his way through the snowstorm. He's wrapped it in oil cloth and string so as to keep it dry and safe from the elements. He's on a mission today, and it's worth the risk to the book to make little Galya happy, at least for a little while.
Galya adores the old stories, and Ivan adores reading them to her.
The wind is blowing harshly by the time Ivan finally reaches the children's hospital, and he walks through the automatic doors with a sigh of relief. He takes a moment to wipe his boots and to shake the snow from his shoulders before he tugs his hat and coat off and hangs them to dry a little. He keeps his scarf.
The hospital is as stark white inside as the weather is outside, but it makes Ivan nervous. He knows snow and ice, is even comforted by it. But the cold of the hospital is a different thing altogether, and Ivan is never sure how to handle it when he visits his children. Still, he comes, because they need him and it's the very least that he can do to show them how much he loves them.
Ivan is pulled from his musing when a nurse touches his arm softly. He jumps a little, startled, but smiles down at the lady when he sees her.
"Galina is sleeping right now," she says, and Ivan sees the knowledge of him in her eyes, "but you can go and sit with her, if you'd like."
Ivan doesn't hesitate. "Da. I'd like that very much."
The nurse nods and beckons him along, leads him to the child's room, and nudges the door open quietly. "Be careful, please. She hasn't been sleeping well lately, so let her wake up on her own."
Ivan nods in return and slides past her and into Galya's room. He sighs softly as he sits in the cold plastic chair beside her bed and takes a moment to observe her. She's so thin, he thinks, thinner than the last time he's seen her, and the sight of the dark rings around her eyes makes his heart ache heavy in his chest.
"You are wasting away, malenkaya," he whispers as runs his fingers through the downy patches of hair growing back on her head. He sighs and moves his hand away, back to the book that is sitting in his lap, covered in cloth and twine. Ivan stays still for a moment and just watches her breathe and wishes that there is more he could do for her.
Silently, he unties the string and carefully un-wraps the book, until he can stroke his hands along the old leather and the gilded pages. He knows just which story he'll tell her when she wakes up. Until then, he leans back into the chair and gazes at the old hand drawn and colored pictures and remembers the times when the old tales were alive and vibrant.
He is lost in his own thoughts, in memories of rich golden palaces and a young princess with a smile like the sun, when he feels soft fingers on his hand. He looks down to see Galina smiling weakly up at him and feels a rush of warmth in his breast.
"Vanya!" she exclaims. "You came!"
"Privet, Galya," he murmurs, smiling. "Of course I came. I promised you, didn't I?"
She nods. "You did." Then she sees the book, and her smile is a little brighter. "What are you going to read today?"
"Vasilisa the Beautiful," he tells her.
Galya giggles. "One of my favorites!"
"But first, I've got something for you," Ivan replies. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a little doll, made of porcelain and cotton with hand-painted eyes and horse hair braids. He laughs a little when Galina's eyes widen and places the doll into her arms. "A doll, just for you." He smiles.
"Like Vasilisa's?"
"Da, just like hers. And do you know what Vasilisa's mother told her to do whenever she needed comfort?"
"Da," Galya breathes reverently. "She said to give it something to eat and to ask it for advice, and that it will help her through her troubles."
"That's right, malenkaya." He takes her hand, squeezes gently, and is gratified when she squeezes back. "When you are unhappy, you try that too. Listen with your heart, and it will be there for you."
"Thank you, Vanya," Galya whispers and hugs her doll close. They hold hands quietly for a moment, taking comfort in each other, and then Galina says, "Will you read now?"
"Of course," he replies, and begins the story.
When Ivan speaks, he paints the picture of another room in another time: "It is a room not unlike this one," he tells her, "where Vasilisa sits by her dying mother's side. This is when her mother gives her the doll, to help her through her grief. And you know this next part, Galya."
The child shifts against her pillows and holds her own doll up. "When you're sad, give it something to eat and ask it for advice!" she repeats. They share a grin, and Ivan continues.
He tells her how Vasilisa's father remarries after a time, thinking to give his daughter a new mother—for it is not good for a girl to grow up without a mother's influence.
"But she gets an evil stepmother instead!" Galya declares. Ivan nods, laughing a little (her eyes are so brilliant, now, he thinks, and her cheeks are flushed with pleasure. Ivan wants to see her like that always.)
"Da, her new stepmother is not the nicest of women, and neither are her two new sisters. They are jealous of Vasilisa's quiet beauty, of the way the firelight sets her aglow, and they give her many chores to do while they spend their days lounging in idleness. They scold her when she cannot do everything they tell her to and hope that all of the work will make her skin haggard and her shoulders hunched, and Vasilisa does not get a moment's peace."
"That's awful," Galya murmurs.
"Da, it is."
"But Vasilisa has the doll."
"She does," Ivan confirms. "And she does as her mother had said to do when she is troubled, and the doll comes to her aid. It helps her, and Vasilisa finishes all of her chores on time and instead of becoming ugly and worn, she grows more and more beautiful."
Galya's eyes shine as she listens to Ivan tell her about Vasilisa's life with her new family. Soon, she tugs him so that he is sitting beside her on the bed and she can lay her head on his shoulder and look down at the pictures in the book. On its pages, Vasilisa glows golden in the sunshine.
"Tell me more."
"Eventually, Vasilisa's father has to go away on business, and the four women were left alone with nothing but the howling in the Black Woods for company."
"That's where Baba Yaga lives!" Galya says, and Ivan nods.
"Da, the cunning witch, Baba Yaga."
"It's said that she gobbles people up in the wink of an eye, isn't it, Vanya? She's evil!"
"Baba Yaga is not evil," Ivan corrects gently, stroking Galina's hand. "She just is. It's that everything comes with a price, malenkaya. You cannot make a deal with her and expect it to come free. Now hush and let me finish."
Galya nods and snuggles closer into Ivans shoulder. He smiles and begins again.
"The step mother sets chores for each of the daughters to do: the first is to weave lace, the second to knit stockings, and Vasilisa to spin the yarn. Then she put all the lights out except for a single splinter of birch and goes to bed."
"The fire goes out, doesn't it?" Galya asks.
"It does, and the girls panic. One of the daughters says that they must finish their work, and so one of them must go to Baba Yaga and ask for a light. The two sisters, afraid of the woods and still jealous of Vasilisa, decide that Vasilisa must be the one to go. They push her out of the hut and shut the door tight."
Ivan shifts slightly so that he can take Galya into his lap. She wraps the edges of his scarf around her and the doll and leans back into Ivan's chest. Ivan feels warmer than he has in a long time. "Vasilisa cries for a little while, and then calls to her doll for help. When she explains her predicament to the doll, it tells her, 'Do not worry, malenkaya. Go to Baba Yaga, and nothing will happen to you so long as I am here.' So Vasilisa gathers her courage and steps into the Black Woods. She trembles as the forest comes up all around her, and she can see no light to guide her way: there are no moon or stars."
"Scary," mumbles Galya into the doll's braids.
Ivan nods. "It is. But she was not walking long when a man on horseback gallops past. He and his horse gleam white in the woods, and it is enough to light her way. Soon another man comes riding past. This time, he is brilliantly red, he and his horse. And as they moved past, the sun rose and Vasilisa could see. It kissed her skin warm, and the woods were not so scary anymore. But Vasilisa doesn't stop, and it is nearing nighttime again when she comes upon Baba Yaga's hut. Can you describe it for me, Galya?"
"The fence was made of human bones," she whispers, looking up at him. Her short tufts of hair tickle his chin. "And the fence was crowned with human skulls. The gate was made of human leg bones, the bolts of men's arms, and the lock of fangs."
"Da. And as Vasilisa stares at in horror, a horseman covered all in black gallops past, and as he does, night falls. It is not long later when Baba Yaga comes flying in.
'I smell Russian flesh! Who is there?' she cries," Ivan says, "and Vasilisa replies,
'It is I, Vasilisa, Grandma. My sisters have sent me to get a light from you!'
'You, hmm?' Baba Yaga asks, 'your stepmother is a kinswoman of mine.' And then she invites Vasilisa into her hut."
Galya giggles. "The stepmother's family!"
Ivan laughs, too. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"
"Both witches!" Galya cries, and she and Ivan smile brightly at each other.
"As she brings Vasilisa into her cottage, she tells the birch-tree by the gate, the dog, and the cat to leave her be, for Vasilisa is hear at her wishes. Then she explains to the maiden that it is not so easy to leave her: she will be stopped. Inside, she orders Vasilisa to bring her food, and while she feasts—on borsct, on half a cow and twenty geese—she gives Vasilisa only bread. After dinner and before she goes to bed, Baba Yaga plops a sack of millet before the girl and tells her to separate all the seeds, and Vasilisa doesn't know how she'll do it."
"But Vasilisa has the doll!" Galya says.
Ivan nods. "That's right. And the doll calls his bird friends to help her with the task—and as the white horseman gallops past and the day dawns—she manages to finish. Baba Yaga is furious, but there is not much she can do about it. It is the same with the next tasks, until Baba Yaga tells her that she is to light a fire, and tomorrow she will be roasted and eaten."
Galya shifts a little so that she can stretch out in Ivan's lap, and runs her fingers along the pictures of Vasilisa and the doll. "She asks the doll for help again," she says.
"And the doll helps her. It tells her to wet the firewood so that it could not burn properly, and then tells her to go speak to Baba Yaga's maid, with whom Vasilisa had not spoken much previously. The maid, in exchange for a silk kerchief that Vasilisa had had in her apron, tells her that she will distract Baba Yaga and to run and that the horsemen would not catch her."
"That's because they're the dawn and the sun and night! They have to keep going so the days change!" Galya says, and Ivan chuckles. It rumbles deep in his chest and Galya smiles up at him.
"That's exactly right. She gets past the cat and the dog and the birch, and is about to run into the woods when the black horseman rides past and covers everything in darkness."
"And Vasilisa can't get home without a light."
"Nyet, she cannot. But she asks the doll again, and the doll tells her to take a skull from the fence and mount it on a stick, and it will light her way home."
"And it does."
"And it does, da," Ivan confirms, stroking Galya's cheek. "When she makes it home, she finds that her step sisters and mother have not been able to light anything in the house. They yell at Vasilisa for taking so long, and as they scold her, the skull fixes its bright-as-day eyes upon them. By morning, they are burnt to cinders, and only Vasilisa is left. And being unable to stay in the house any longer, Vasilisa moves to town to live with an elderly lady, and she takes up weaving beautiful cloth—the most beautiful in all the world."
"So beautiful it is only worthy of the Tsarevich," Galya finishes. "And she makes him a shirt too," she says, and turns to the picture of brilliant Vasilisa presenting the prince with his flaxen shirt. "The Tsarevich is so taken with it, and with Vasilisa's beauty that he can't bear to let her go, so they are married."
Ivan hums in agreement and flips to the next page, where Vasilisa is reunited with her father. "Her father comes home from his journey and comes to live with them at the palace, and so does the old woman who took Vasilisa in. And they live together, happily, for all the rest of their days."
When the story is over, Galya leans against Ivan and looks through the rest of the book, at pictures of Snegurochka, the Snow Maiden, and of Baba Yaga's hut as it walks through the woods on its chicken legs. Neither of them speak, but Ivan rubs her back soothingly and wishes he could keep the light in Galya's eyes burning.
"I want to be beautiful, Vanya," she whispers after a moment, sniffling and clutching her doll close. The book falls shut in her lap, and Ivan moves it to the chair beside the bed. Galina turns in his arms and gazes up at him. Her pale eyes are moist as she blinks. "I wish I were beautiful like Vasilisa."
"Nyet." Ivan says firmly. He raises one large hand and gently wipes her tears. "Do not think like that. You are beautiful. You shine like stars in the night, child, and you have the bravest heart. Your strength puts Vasilisa to shame. Never doubt that."
Galya's smile is worth all the riches in the world, Ivan thinks as she flings her arms around him. He surprised at her energy.
"Thanks, Vanya," she mumbles into his scarf. She yawns, then, and whispers, "I'm glad you're here."
Ivan hugs her close as her eyes shut and her breath evens and shifts so he can pull her blankets up around them both till they're cocooned in warmth.
Then he says, "I'm glad you're here, too."
Notes:
Malenkaya means "little one"
"Galya" is a diminutive of the Russian name Galina. It means clarity.