Hello! We are Cat and Bee from RusCanWonderland on Tumblr.
Disclaimers, Notes & Warnings:
We do not own Hetalia or any characters within.
Warnings: REFERENCED BESTIALITY (this is a Beatuy and the Beast AU. What do you expect?) mild verbal abuse, mild violence, reference to hospitalization in a mental institution
Notes: In this reenactment of Beauty and the Beast, Ivan has been transformed into a polar bear instead of a fantasy beast. That being said, there will be a heavy reference to Matthew falling in love with a polar bear. For those of you who cannot handle this, please do not read.
"But Papa, I don't want to go," Matthew huffed as he maneuvered through the dark enclosed back of the opera house. He had just finished a performance as part of the chorus of dancers and his face was flushed slightly as he unpinned his hair from the slight up do the ballet had required.
"It can't be real, what all these stupid ladies are claiming…"
"Be that as it may Madame Marie Gabrielle has offered the fun your trip and I will not let you refuse." Francis frowned. "Besides, you've always wanted to travel."
"Yes, but to enjoy myself. Not to be stuck in a frozen castle that may or may not house a dangerous animal," he sighed and turned to his father, gently reaching to take his hands. "Papa,…I know that you think they mean well but…" He sighed and shook his head.
"Don't make me do something I don't want to…"
Francis sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Matthew… Whether or not you get whatever mythical reward from the Russian government… I'm going to marry Madame Marie Gabrielle… And I don't want to refuse her generous offer and insult her in such a way." The older male straightened and frowned down at Matthew. "You're going and that is final."
Matthew glared down at the worn dancer shoes in his hand, his jaw clenching and his eyes burning, before he shoved them into Francis' hold and turned away. "It is nice to know, Papa, that you consider your new…wife's feelings before you consider mine," he huffed and turned to go onto the dancers' dressing room, closing the door with a slam.
He knew he couldn't win, but he also didn't have to be happy about it as a week later he was kissing his teachers goodbye and getting into carriage that would take he and Francis to the nearest train station in downtown Paris. He hadn't said too much to his Papa in the days since the confrontation, but he figured there wasn't more that could've been said.
At the train station Francis ran his fingers through Matthew's hair, gnawing at his lower lip as he looked over his son with a pained expression, cupping pale cheeks and pulling the slightly taller male to his chest and gave him a tight hug, kissing his cheeks and pulling back. "Write me every week,oui?"
Matthew sighed softly, searching his Papa's eyes that were so very close to his own. His father had been struggling for years with money being the center of it along with what Matthew liked to call his depression. He knew that Francis wouldn't be pushing this if he didn't think that perhaps the fortune would be worth it in the end. If anything, Matthew only had his father, and he loved him dearly…he should want to do whatever he could to make him happy.
"Oui, Papa, I'll write whenever I can," he hummed, hugging the older man again as the whistle of the train in the station blew loudly and a man stepping off the metal stairway called for "all aboard!".
He gave Francis a small smile as he pulled away from him and picked up his things, man making his way to the ticket man and handing his over. He found his seat and settled in, not wanting to wave goodbye to Francis who he didn't even know if he'd still be waiting on the platform. He sighed and closed his eyes as he felt the train start to move and mentally prepared himself for the long journey ahead.
It wasn't until Matthew had to trade trains at Ukraine and had to show his papers did anyone realize what he was doing.
The soldiers that filled the car along with laughed and grinned as they harassed the blonde. "So so, you're going to the Czar's?"
"You're just his type too, his old lover was about your size."
"So what's your story? Need money?"
"Does it matter what my story is? I'm sure it can't be much different than what everyone else said before me," he glared softly at the group of men, mentally telling himself not to be too harsh. People couldn't help their stupidity sometimes, and Matthew was not to judge them. Thought he really…really wanted to knock those smug looks and leering smiles off of their faces.
"Probably." One man laughed. "So… Anyone told you exactly what he looks like?"
"Oh, don't tell me…you've been, too?" Matthew cooed, giving them a bored look.
The man gave a playful salute. "We're the delivery service for the palace. We bring in vittles and perform any repairs to the fencing and occasionally bring in fresh meat." The man leaned forward. "And he's turned into a real bear. He's huge. You sometimes see him in the windows or if you go into the kitchen he watches from the hall."
Matthew wrinkled his nose as he leaned away from the soldier, his body shifting to press closer to the freezing glass of the window at his side. "…Yes, I'm sure. A real bear to go along with all that realalcohol that clouds one's judgement," he hummed, tilting his head away as a strange sense of worry started to swell in his chest. They must've been mistaken…a bear could not possibly be what was there…
There began an argument among the men, shouting out more rumors and elaborations, a few small truths mixed in as the young man that had started it all sat beside Matthew and grinned, hands holding the barrel of his gun as he leaned over to talk to Matthew.
"It's true. A couple of decades back the Czar was cursed by a fairy. And she said that he had twenty-five years to break the spell by falling in love." The man grinned. "Or else he'd spend forever as a beast."
"And with all of these "lovely" ladies that have come to his castle, not one in twenty-five years was the one?" Matthew asked, giving the man a long sideways look. "If perhaps they didn't advertise this as some sort of twisted attraction, maybe it'd give the man a chance to end his curse." He tilted his head to fully look at the soldier, unimpressed.
"Not like Lenin gives anyone the option. Russian children get sent to and from the palace so frequently that there isn't a single child in the country that hasn't visited." The soldier smirked. "And even a Frenchman should know… The man had the taste for young boys." Eyes swept over Matthew before the smirk widened. "And with your pretty self, you might get a chance to glimpse him yourself."
Matthew swallowed hard as he tilted his head to peer at the window, the snow and frost from outside sticking to the glass and nearly blocking his view of the moving countryside. "…I doubt that love would be the answer with me,…I only feel sorry for wasting his time."
It was about half a day before they arrived in St. Petersburg, the blonde escorted to a supply truck where he was set upon by another soldier with a large bouquet of roses, tying the blooms to blonde curls and grinning as he explained that "the Czar liked the smell of them."
The palace itself loomed above the gate, the entirety of the building empty, the front door opened and snow fluttering inside as the soldiers brought supplies into the kitchen and arranged them, keeping sharp eyes out for the occupant of the palace.
"…you are all scared yet you are going to leave me here alone?" Matthew fussed, giving the men a little glare as he maneuvered through the kitchen and stepped into the threshold of the hallway leading away from the room the soldiers were in. He couldn't see too far into whatever lied at the end of the threshold, but he could see torn and billowing curtains and overturned furniture.
"You're probably in the safest place in the world." The soldier that had kept Matthew company the entire trip gave the young man a pat on the shoulder. "In twenty five years he's never harmed one of his suitors." The soldier smiled. "You'll be fine. We come back every week. I'll check up on you."
Matthew gave him a little smile and nodded, his hands coming up to brush along his arms. It was very cold, both inside and out, but Matthew hoped that perhaps the longer he was there the more used to it he would became. He watched the soldiers bid him a stiff goodbye before he was left alone.
Swallowing hard, Matthew turned to peer back down the hallway before gathering his courage and moving forward. He was careful not to touch anything, but even in this first hallway, Matthew couldn't help but notice the overabundance of mirrors.
He let out a shuddering sigh as he entered a type of entrance foyer; a tall ceiling room that at one point Matthew imagined to be beautiful. He noticed ripped up paintings and shattered glass…but above everything he noticed, was the emptiness. It was stifling.
There was a large painting at the end of the hallway, the face torn and clawed, the rest of it revealing a man in immaculate attire, his robes made of white fur and icy blue brocade and silks, broad chest decorated in medals of honor and in his hand a scepter while the other rested on the edge of a table.
Matthew only had a few moments to stare at the painting before there was a low growl from nearby and blue eyes were drawn up to the landing of the elaborate staircase behind the painting, an enormous white polar bear standing on all fours as it stared down at the boy.
Hand freezing in mid air as he held it out to move some of the ripped pieces of canvas to better see the face in the painting, Matthew gasped as he turned around and peered up the stairs. He took a step backwards as he pressed his fingers to his parted lips, suddenly feeling the fire and spark the Madame had spoken of leave him completely. The soldier's were telling the truth,…there really was a polar bear.
But were they also telling the truth that he was safest here?
The creature descended the stairs, paws thudding heavily on the marble until he reached the foyer and stood on it's hind legs, bright violet eyes staring down at the human before the smooth, oval head leaned forward and sniffed at the air around the blonde. A short, irritated growl came from the creature before it landed back on it's paws and lumbered out of the room towards the kitchen, obviously more interested in food than the boy.
Matthew trembled slightly as he watched the bear move away, his heart racing and pounding in his ears. He brought a hand up to touch the top of his head and tangled his fingers in the roses wound around his curls and sighed. Apparently, the superstition had worked, for now, and at the moment, all Matthew wanted to do was create distance between he and the bear. He had emotions and thoughts to collect as well as a harsh reality to face, all on his own and all in this terribly empty palace. Shakily, he ascended the stairs, glancing back every so often to see if the bear was coming his way yet before choosing to go down the hall that seemed to be virtually untouched by claw marks and broken objects.
There was a room set up for the blonde, with a made bed decorated with stitched on roses on the blankets and pillows and an elaborate white and silver furniture set. There was a fireplace with the glowing embers of a flame within, obviously meant to be fed when the room was occupied. The room was nice, very nice, but across from the bed was a single large mirror with the glass broken, creating a disjointed image of the entire room and the person in the bed or before the fire.
The room, as lovely as it was, did nothing for Matthew's nerves. He placed down the things he had brought with him before cautiously stepping forward to run his hand over the stitched on roses. They were lovely, sweet,…but felt completely out of place in this dark, cold palace. He sighed as he pulled his coat off and gently placed it down. He didn't know what to do now…did he attempt to speak to the bear that…really didn't want him there but didn't seem to mind? Or did he just wait until the creature sought him out all on its own.
Tentatively, he settled on the bed and reveled in the warmth coming from the fire place and sighed. His body curled up slightly on the far end, furthest from the door. He didn't know what to do…and reality was starting to hit him cold and square in the chest.