Friend?
"Ivan? Did you hear me?"
Shaken from his thoughts, an adolescent Russia snapped his head up, breaking his gaze with the tabletop and meeting eyes with the tall, thin, wavy haired man standing at the other end, speaking to the small group of people in the room.
"Hn?" He perked up, realizing he'd completely spaced out on whatever Peter was talking about. Despite his rudeness the man chuckled, shaking his head.
"You always remind me of another Ivan I knew."* He remarked casually, waving a hand dismissively. "I was saying, we're starting to pay more attention to foreign affairs. The world is bigger now than it was and it's time to start making allies."
"…what is allies?" Ivan frowned. He'd never heard the word and he certainly didn't know how to make one. He didn't even know how to make his bed. Perhaps he should start paying more attention to these stupid political meetings.
"An ally is like a friend." Peter nodded, making it sound simple. Ivan felt his face heat up slightly and wondered if he was just stupid.
"What… is friend?"
Peter gave the boy an odd look of confusion, glancing at the other people in the room who simply shrugged. The tall man looked thoughtful, slowly pacing along the table toward the confused Russia, who fidgeted with his overlong scarf. Peter had always wondered why Ivan chose to wear that thing even sitting closest to the fireplace of all of them.
"A friend…" He tapped a finger against his lip, trying to think of how to explain it. "A friend is someone who makes you happy. Who will protect you when you need it, who you can depend on. You understand?" He tried to smile, corner of his mouth twitching.**
"Nyet…" Ivan shook his head, feeling bad. How was he supposed to help his people get this 'ally' thing if he didn't even understand? He hated being confused. It just made him angry. He sighed, exasperated, not surprised when the action caused Peter to take a casual step back, smile twitching again and faltering.
"Ivan… do not be upset. If you don't know you will learn."
The teen nodded, sighing again. Peter watched him for a moment before speaking again.
"So we're going to have visitors from far away, and we have to show them we want to be friends. Which means we'll be polite and show them around." He smiled his twitchy smile again. "I'm sure you'll be good at that Ivan." The boy frowned doubtfully. He knew he wasn't polite, any lady in the capital who met him could tell that much.
"I try…" He shrugged, tracing his fingers over the tabletop absently. Peter frowned slightly at this, jaw twitching.
"I hope so.."
Ivan sighed, fidgeting with the idiot shirt he was being made to wear. Peter had decided to change their fashion to the Western type, to fit in with their new 'friends'. Well whatever a 'friend' was, Ivan didn't like it. All they did was change things and cause new rules. He grunted trying to get his waistcoat (whatever the hell that was) over the dumb shirt before getting frustrated and tossing it onto his bed.
He looked in the mirror at the frilly atrocity with the poofy cuffs he was supposed to wear downstairs, and shuddered. With a sigh he picked up the hat, an odd chunk of leather with strange random curves in the brim, and threw it on the floor, kicking it under his bed in the hopes no one would find it and make him wear it.
Glancing in the mirror again he realized he looked very stupid with this stupid shirt tucked into the ridiculous breeches. He angrily untucked the shirt, ruffling it with his hands to mess it up and wrinkle it. As an added measure he also started messing up his hair, and decided not to buckle the uncomfortable heeled shoes he had to wear. Satisfied with his rebellion, he trudged downstairs and through the palace to the dining hall, where a large group of important people were already gathered. Good, he was late too.
Ivan made his way to his usual seat, to the right of the chair at the head of the table where Peter himself sat, facing everyone. He noted Peter's disappointed frown but ignored it, choosing to stare at the empty plate before him as if disinterested in everything. He heard Peter clear his throat, muttering just loud enough for the boy to hear.
"Where is your hat and coat?"
"I am no wearing them." Ivan replied in just as low a voice, though everyone along the table seemed to notice him talking.
"I told you, our guests would appreciate us showing our knowledge of their fashion.."
"Is not fashion, it is stupid." Ivan retorted at a normal volume, raising a few eyebrows nearby as Peter's face twitched.
"Ssh, stop that, Ivan. Be respectful. It is not up to you what is fashionable or stupid…" Peter hissed, giving him a stern look. "Just take off that scarf."
"Nyet."
"You look ridiculous and we have company.."
"Nyet."
"Ivan, it's-"
"Nyet."
Peter sighed, shaking his head and deciding to ignore Ivan's antics in favor of addressing his guests. "I am sorry. As I was saying, I am honored to welcome you to our home. We hope this will bring us closer to obtaining a place for ourselves among the nations of the world." Peter paused to turn to Ivan. "Ivan, this is Jean Casimir Baluze." He gestured to a short bald man with a prominent moustache, sitting next to a strikingly different tall blonde man. "He is a diplomat from the nation of France. Say hello."
"Hn." Ivan nodded, disinterested, earning him another noticeable twitch from Peter.
"Ivan…"
"Non, non, monsieur Romanov. It is not a problem." Baluze waved a hand dismissively. "Children can be that way."
"I am not child." Ivan suddenly spoke up loudly, his voice carrying as he straightened up in his seat.
"Ivan!" Peter snapped, causing the boy to sit back in his seat immediately.
"I am not-"
"I don't care what you think you are. You will be respectful." Peter interrupted him. Ivan frowned and slumped in his seat, pouting.
"I apologize; Ivan has quite a short fuse." Peter explained, and Ivan bit his lip to keep from talking back. "We are glad to welcome you." He spoke for a few more minutes on official things and then asked for dinner to be served. Ivan picked at his food grouchily, just wanting to go to his room. "Ivan, it's rude not to eat when you have guests over." Peter reminded him, and something about the words made Ivan's blood suddenly boil and he growled menacingly as he stabbed a potato with his fork, effectively silencing the Tsar.
Finally Peter announced that quarters were made up for the guests to stay, and that he intended to have a formal meeting tomorrow afternoon. Finally free, Ivan jumped from his seat and hurriedly escaped the dining hall, lest Peter decide to chastise him or something.
Later before bed, Ivan found himself in a lonely staircase thinking to himself, prodding a fresh spider-web in a windowsill with a feather he'd plucked from one of his old pillows and giggling softly as the angry resident of said web curled into a menacing little ball and vibrated, clinging to what was left of the web. He thought of the spider's predicament, wondering if it felt a lot like he did, trapped in this palace while people prodded him and made him angry.
He poked the spider itself and the tiny bug seemed to decide it had had enough. It hopped onto the retreating feather and scurried to Ivan's fingers before he had a chance to react.
"OW!" Ivan stood quickly as a tiny lightning bolt went through his finger and hand, immediately banging his head on the stair railings before falling back onto the stairs directly on his rear. Angry tears of pain welled in his eyes and he growled, rubbing the top of his head with one hand and clenching his other into a fist as his finger throbbed. He looked around for the spider, wanting to kill it for hurting him, but it had already escaped.
Ivan sniffled and moved to stand up, wincing as his back hurt. He'd fallen right on his tailbone and it hurt badly. Stupid spider. He hated them all. He sniffled again, starting to cry quietly since he was alone anyway, until he heard a few soft footsteps coming up from the next landing down and quickly wiped his eyes.
"What are you doing zere?" A low voice said softly; the man ascended the stairs in front of Ivan, it was the blonde man who sat next to the funny bald diplomat person. Up close Ivan realized he was tall, almost as tall as Peter, who was very very tall. His golden hair was tied into a loose tail in back, random strands hanging down and slightly wavy. His clear blue eyes and his mouth both smiled at Ivan.
"Nothing." Ivan answered quickly, grabbing the railing to stand up like nothing was wrong, though he grimaced at the tingling pain still going through his spine. He hated falling down…
"Are you 'urt?" The man's face shifted slightly into an expression of gentle concern and he took a few more steps to where Ivan was sitting, holding a hand out to the teen. His hands looked strong, but he had such long, thin fingers. Like a woman's. He also dressed like a woman, in Ivan's opinion. So many frills, and all purples and reds. It was so flashy it hurt his eyes. The man wore huge rings on his fingers as well.
"I am fine…" Ivan hesitated but finally took the man's hand, allowing him to help him up though he winced at the movement. He frowned, looking away. "I fall.." He admitted quietly.
The man smiled softly. "Well zese old staircases can be treacherous, non?"
"I.. because I hit my head." He blushed slightly, bringing his hand up to rub his head again, still keeping his other hand clenched tight into a fist.
"Aww," the man's brows stitched a bit, sadly. "Zat must 'ave 'urt. 'Ere, let me look at it?" He reached out and gently pulled Ivan closer by his shoulder, feeling the boy's head. "Ah, you 'ave a little bump, but it will 'eal." He seemed to notice Ivan's clenched hand was shaking. "You 'urt your 'and as well?"
Ivan blushed more, not one to admit he'd hurt himself thrice in a matter of seconds. "Spider bite me.. then I hit my head, then I fall…" He explained in a small voice, flustered.
The man made a clucking sound with his tongue, shaking his head. "Spiders are cruel little beasts, you know. You should try not to play wiz zem." He gave Ivan an understanding smile and held out a hand. "Let me see." Ivan reluctantly held his hand out and the man checked his finger. A spot near his first knuckle where the spider had bitten him had already begun to swell painfully.
"Ah, 'e got you good, non?" He chuckled, leaning down slightly and gently putting his lips to Ivan's knuckle before the boy could ask what he was doing. He froze as he suddenly felt the man sucking on his finger. For some reason it made his face and neck start to feel hot. He felt confused and wondered if he should pull away, but before he could decide the man straightened back up, turning to spit daintily out the window. "Zere, zat fixes ze swelling." He smiled, releasing Ivan's hand.
"Why you do that?" Ivan asked, examining his finger, which indeed had stopped swelling so much. He was unaware how red his face was, only knowing he was uncomfortably warm and confused.
"To get ze poison out." He noticed Ivan suddenly look alarmed and corrected himself. "Oh, non, it is only a tiny bit of poison, not enough to 'urt you. But zat is what makes ze pain."
"Oh.." Ivan looked relieved. "Well e… spasibo…"
"C'est ne pas probleme." The man smiled, putting a gentle hand on Ivan's lower back. "Let me 'elp you to your room." Ivan nodded and allowed the man to help him up the stairs, where his room stood alone in a wing apart from other living quarters. "Is zere a reason you are all alone up 'ere?" The man looked around as Ivan opened the door to his room revealing a slightly large, but very boring room.
"I don't… like people." Ivan admitted with a frown. "…They don't like me."
"I am sure zat is not true." The man smiled and chuckled. "I like you."
Ivan looked surprised for a moment, gawking at the man before speaking. "Really? …spasibo…" He said quietly. It was silly for the man to like him, he didn't even know what his name was. "I… I am Ivan. But you know that…" He blushed a bit remembering how Peter chastised him.
"Oui, I know." The man smiled and nodded, reaching out to take Ivan's hand. "I am Francis Bonnefoy. It is a pleasure to meet you, Ivan." He smirked, pressing a kiss to Ivan's knuckles. The boy felt his face get warm again as the man stood up. "You are probably tired. Sleep well, and I will see you at ze meeting, oui?"
"Da." Ivan nodded, now feeling like he might want to attend the meeting tomorrow instead of hiding from Peter like he was planning to. The man smiled and winked before he left, closing the door behind him. Ivan wondered at how different the man was from anyone else he'd ever met. He continued to wonder as he changed into his nightclothes and lay in his bed. His brows furrowed a bit as he murmured Peter's words aloud. "A friend… someone who make you happy…"
AN:
* Peter "the Great" ruled alongside his half-brother Ivan from 1682-1696; the latter was chronically ill and mentally unstable. Ivan died when Peter was only 24.
** Peter the Great had noticeable facial tics (twitches or spasms) that were assumed to be the result of a form of epilepsy.
Translations:
Spasibo – thank you
C'est ne pas probleme – it's no problem
