Kay, so I know I haven't updated in 3 DAYS! Oh my God!
Warnings- Ivan the Terrible ahead. A little bit of gore. Temporary loss of sanity. Alcohol use. Etc.
More history this chapter, but I do my best to keep it brief.
But seriously people, you like HETALIA…at least sixty percent of that should be history related. If not, and you're only into the Hetalia fandom for the hot guys and sex, than shame on you- you fucking perverts….
Yeah…I'll just write another chapter and shut up.
Songs-
'Red Right Hand' by Nick Cave
'Save You' by Matthew Perryman Jones
'Seen enough' by Dryer
Kiev was on fire.
The sound of shoed hooves thundered against cobblestones and shook the ground like an earthquake. Buildings were sacked; women and children in the streets were stabbed by the invader's spears. Screaming, burning, crying, killing…
There wasn't much the city could do to protect itself.
The current representative of the Kievan Rus' territory was crushed under a falling building that crumbled over him. A stone block from one of the walls dropped directly onto his ribcage, coupled with the weight of the other stones, it splintered the bones into his heart. He died instantly.
The Mongols united the government of the land for some time. They established self-sustaining dukedoms with and left to invade other lands in Poland and Hungary.
Muscovy rose with a new representative. Vladimir became the next nation to control the land- and Ivan's predecessor. He drew the central wealth and population to the northeastern part of Kievan Rus'. They established trade with the Baltic Sea, Caspian Sea, White Sea, and Siberia. Muscovy gained full control of the Russian lands in 1480. The time of the Mongol overlordship officially ended.
Over the next 300 years, the rulers of these dukedoms began competing for land and wealth. They waged small wars against each other to expand their borders.
The most successful duke was Ivan III (Ivan the Great). He was born into the rule of Ryazan' and, by the time he was old enough to rule, the princes of Rostov and Yaroslavl' subordinated themselves to him. He later spread his rule over all of Novgorod and Tver'.
He called himself a 'Tsar', meaning 'king' or 'emperor'. His rule spread across the entire northern part of the country. He even tried to expand further, harassing Lithuania for control of more land. After many years of fighting with the other country, he finally prevailed and Muscovy tripled under his rule. Vladimir grew stronger.
But it was under the rule of Ivan IV, twenty-eight years later, that Russia…and Ivan were created. Vladimir faded away and was replaced by the unified kingdom of Russia.
Now, most countries have bloody beginnings…whether it be a revolution against a ruling state, a bloody siege of land, or a struggle to protect against invasion. Russia was anything but an exception from this rule.
He was often haunted by nightmares of his creation, but they'd been held at bay the past week due to other distractions. With all his previous worries eased by the new alliance with the American, Ivan was back to normal…back to the dreaded insanity that nipped at the corners of his conscious.
It was sometime in the 1560s. Ivan was too young to care the exact date. Currently, he was hiding. His boss had gone into another violent temper fit…
Ivan didn't understand the politics of it, but he understood how terrified he was of his boss. The man had become the grand prince of Muscovy when his father died. He'd only been three years old at the time…
The country had been cared for by his regent until the boy was old enough to make decisions. The woman's name was Helen, and all Ivan could remember of her was that she was Lithuanian. She was poisoned thirty years ago…or so.
Then he had taken the reigns… He was fourteen. He hated humanity. Both his parents had died when he was very young. He was raised in a brutal and degrading environment where he learned to hold human life in contempt. He killed his competition for the throne in cold blood.
Ivan knew that his boss had been mistreated by his advisors at a very young age. He knew that his boss hated the Boyars. He knew that that was why the man defied them so often…
Ivan remembered the first time he'd met Ivan the terrible.
He'd been crying…
The teen's appearance alone was terrifying. Ivan didn't know if he wanted this kind of boss…he didn't know if he wanted to be named after this kind of man. He was a new country. He had no clue what he was supposed to be doing.
He held tightly to the scarf his Katyusha had given him for the cold. The boy had a crazy look in his eyes as he approached. He was dressed in flamboyant, regal clothing and walked with arrogance. He had fiery, unkempt hair that curled around his head in every direction. His white linen stockings and dark green overcoats were stained with bright red splotches.
He kneeled down in front of the young Russia. "Please do not cry little one," he said kindly. He wiped a tear from the child's face, smearing blood across his cheek in doing so.
Ivan sniffed and wiped his cheeks furiously, trying to get the disgusting marks off his face. "What is on your hands?" he cried.
His boss just laughed lightly. "Oh, this is only the Boyar Danilovich…"
Ivan remembered how that had sunk like lead in his stomach. The red all over his boss was a human? His eyes widened.
His boss saw the look of terror on the child's face. "Oh! No…it is all well… You see, I killed him. I fed him to the dogs…" he said kindly.
Ivan just stared at him in terror. He had a horrible feeling that one was not supposed to be relieved by such news. Just what kind of man was this Tsar? The thoughts just made him cry harder.
Which earned him a sharp smack across the cheek. "I told you not to cry!" the teen snapped at the young child.
Ivan's eyes went wide and he forgot how to cry completely. He was in shock and pain. His face hurt.
Ivan IV bent over to be on eye-level with his nation. He glared sharply at the innocent child. "Crying is weakness," he growled. "Are you weak?"
The child just shook his head listlessly. He buried his chin in his scarf as he bowed his head.
"Good…" his boss said calmly. "This is a world where you can be wiped off the map if you are not strong enough. And there are many that will try…" he continued. "So. I am going to make you strong. I am going to make you stronger than any of them."
Russia just stared at the floor solemnly. "Really?" he asked, keeping his voice careful and calm.
A hand patted through his hair, leaving little red blood splotches where it touched. "Of course. Just do as I say."
That had been almost two decades ago. Ivan was still just a child, but his boss had grown to be a man- if he could be considered something so human.
He'd spent the last thirty years slowly breaking his country down; turning Russia into his pet dog. He quickly broke all the boy's self-respect and conscious guilt; so now, Ivan would follow his every whim. Russia now belonged to Ivan IV. He would kill on the drop of a finger, conquest even his own sisters or friends, steal property, burn villages, and abandon sanity…all for his boss. Nothing was out of mind.
Ivan IV had only gotten more ruthless and more horrible as time had progressed. It all finally broke.
Ivan IV passed a new policy called the Oprichnina. His agents attacked boyars, merchants, and common people, confiscating land and possessions and executing many. Trade dwindled and peasants who managed the farms began to leave Muscovy, faced with massive taxes and growing violence. A decade of terror ripped through Russia as the boyars fell, and those most capable of running the land fell from their positions.
Russia fell ill, but the conquests didn't stop. His boss sent him out in every direction to claim more land. He attacked Livonia and was soon engaged in a war against Poland, Lithuania, Sweden, and Denmark. He might be able to handle one or two of these adversaries alone, but all together…
And Ivan IV would not allow him to pull back. It was constantly dark. He finally collapsed, on the brink of death, bleeding out through his massive coats, and only appearing ten or twelve years old physically.
"You are weak," he said, stepping gracefully through the snow to kick his nation in the side, adding to the bruises.
Russia coughed- blood filling his mouth. He gulped roughly. "There were too many…" he pleaded weakly.
"Excuses!"
Russia hesitated. This had to stop, but he knew this was going to hurt… "I-…c-can't…"
His boss brought out his walking stick that he often used for show. He jammed it down into Russia's eye socket. There was a horrible crack and blood blurred Ivan's vision. "You will not stop."
"I know," Russia choked. His entire body felt dead. He didn't think he could move. His wounds would heal eventually...mostly.
"You are mine…" Ivan IV said, kneeling down next to his Russia. Ivan had already grown taller than his boss, Ivan IV, but it was still evident who was in control. Russia's boss gently stroked his country's cheek, blood draining down from the open wound in his right eye.
"And you…are…" Russia couldn't believe he was going to try this… "You're terrible."
His boss just laughed and gently moved the bloody white scarf out of the way. "We should get some of these bloody clothes off, da? You have some nasty wounds." The man opened Russia's heavy, layered coat and unbuttoned his undershirt.
"Please…" Ivan pleaded weakly.
"Hush!" his boss snapped, and he snapped his cane open to bring out the knife that was concealed inside it. He brought it out and carefully cut through the flesh of Russia's chest, Ivan screaming the whole way. "You are my country! Mine!" He broke through the ribcage and blindly dug his fist in the gore, moving aside what he wasn't looking for. He ripped out Ivan's heart and stood up calmly, clenching his fist around the dripping organ.
The blood in the snow was freezing into little crystals. Russia's vision swirled dangerously as he cried and screamed, making a huge cloud of steam in the dark air, but he could survive without a heart…he was strong. He was stronger than any of them…
"This is mine…until you show that you deserve it…" Ivan IV said coldly.
Russia tried to move, he screamed in pain. He was going to die! He was going to bleed out in the snow! His corpse would freeze to the ground!
"Ivan!" a warm voice cried frantically.
His body was going to be eaten by the wolves! He would be forgotten and dissolve!
"Goddamnit, Ruski! Wake the fuck up!"
He was shaking... The earth was moving!
"Why're you screaming? You're freaking out the neighbors!" the voice cried.
The world dissolved and it was dark. It was so very dark…
"Wake up!"
Ivan opened his eyes to find a stranger leaned over him, shoving him down into a bed by his shoulder, yelling at him to wake up. Ivan trembled. His eyes were blurry…why were they blurry?
"Oh my God…" the stranger said, voice softening at the sight of tears. A hand was on the Russian's forehead. "Are you okay?"
Ivan couldn't move. He was freaking out. If he moved, he would tear open again…
"It's alright to cry..." the voice said softly. "Sometimes you deserve to...what's bothering you?" The stranger leaned over him further. "Hey…Ivan?"
An arm shout out, grabbing the stranger's neck and tugging him down into a bone-cracking embrace. Ivan needed to hold something. He needed some sort of protection…
"Ack! What the fuck?"
"Do not call me that name…" the Russian pleaded. His voice sounded small and scared like a child that feared his closet.
Alfred tried to move, but his spine was snapping under the Russian's frantic embrace. "Would you rather I call you Commie or Ruski?" he demanded angrily. It was the first time he'd called the Russian by his human name since…he couldn't even remember the last time.
"I am not a monster like him…hе похожий ему...hе похожий ему…hе похожий ему…" he said, chanting this over and over, trying to make himself believe it.
"Like…who?"
"He was so…terrible…no…hе похожий ему…"
Alfred sat there and tried to put the pieces together, still trying to sit up. This was feeling really awkward, being pinned into the Russian's chest…on top of a bed. Ivan was complaining about having the name 'Ivan'…and he was 'terrible'. "Ivan the forth?" Alfred questioned.
Ivan screamed again, gripping tighter until Alfred's back cracked painfully. He wouldn't let go, and he was choking the American. Alfred tried to breathe in vain. "Gah! Think about Peter the Great!" he cried, breathless.
If Ivan were in his right mind, he would've been shocked that the American knew so much about his history… But, he wasn't in his right mind. All sanity was lost in dream-induced panic. The Russian didn't let go. Alfred leaned over and bit the side of Ivan's ear- hard.
Ivan whimpered and let go.
Alfred stood and put his hands on his hips. He looked intimidating in his Star Trek tee shirt and striped sleeping boxers. "Who am I?" he demanded.
Ivan's vision cleared and he looked at the American. He thought hard for a moment, but the panic-attack hadn't quite put him in his right mind yet. His thoughts were still jumbled somewhere around the sixteen hundreds. "Ah…India?"
Alfred sighed. It had been awhile since he'd heard that one… "You need some vodka…" he decided. Obviously Ivan was still drugged up from a nightmare. And the best way to fight internal-mental-disorientation? Alcohol!
…
7 bottles of Smirnoff later
…
"Oh, don't get all pissy about it! You were breaking my spine! What was I supposed to do?" Alfred demanded, tucking the Russian's hair behind his ear to check out the nasty bite mark he'd given him. It had bled a little…it was scabbing. "It's little outbursts like that that make people think you're crazy…"
"Do not talk to me about crazy!" the Russian snapped. "I vasn't the one sending off a communist witch-hunt…"
Alfred sighed. That was like…fourty years ago.
The Russian had drunk seven full bottles of vodka on his own. And he still hardly seemed tipsy. At least he was back in his proper mindset…for better or worse. "Yeah…well, you were communist, so of course you weren't," he replied calmly.
"You are an idiot."
"You've made that very clear," Alfred replied, trying not to get angry again. He scratched idly at a bite on his face. He still had serious bed-head and his vision was off without his glasses. "McCarthy was…I don't know. He was just the personification of my paranoia I guess."
"You were paranoid?" Ivan demanded, setting down a shot glass that he'd been using out of 'courtesy'.
"Well, duh! You were trying to take over the world with your ideals! …more or less…"
Ivan laughed, he laughed so hard he almost fell over in his chair. "I vas the paranoid one!" he laughed. "Remember the Able Archer 83 practice drill?" he laughed. "I thought you ver using it as a cover to invade!"
Alfred flushed. He hadn't really given that much thought at the time. It had just been a simulation that NATO had done to train for a Soviet attack. Ivan had holed himself up in his house, setting up protective forces to make pre-emptive strikes in Poland and Prussia- just in case NATO aggression. Alfred remembered Regan talking to the public about how the Soviet Union truly feared the US. He changed his strategies from ones of confrontation with the Soviets to one of rapprochement.
Thinking back on it, it was probably the closest they'd come to firing nukes at each other since the Cuban Missile Crisis.
"Or vhat about the Stanislav Petrov Incident?" Ivan pushed.
Alfred got defensive on this one. "Hey, that was your technology flubbing you…"
Ivan frowned, tracing the rim of his glass. "I still thought it vas the end. I thought you ver attacking me…" he said darkly. "But, I refused to believe it."
Alfred frowned. It still bothered him that they had been that way for so long. Hell…they still weren't the best of friends, but at least they weren't wishing the other dead anymore. Why did everything always have to go so wrong with the Russian? Everything…
"I vas prepared to go to war vith you."
At that, Alfred had to chuckle quietly. He leaned against the counter. It collected condensation from the air-conditioner above it, so it was cooler than that muggy air. "Well, we kinda were at war…if you didn't notice. It just wasn't a…hot war…we never actually laid a finger on each other…directly. All the fighting was in South America and Asia…and all those revolts you had with those countries in your house…"
Ivan nodded. "I vouldn't actually vant to fight vith you in person…"
Alfred laughed. "Yeah, you know I'd crush you!"
Ivan sent him a quick glare. "You vould be stupid enough to try…"
Alfred leaned forward. "I…would- not try. I would," he corrected.
Ivan just shook his head, smirking. He poured himself more alcohol. "It vould be a stalemate…and you know it. We vould only kill ourselves trying."
"Oh, you Russians and your chess," Alfred prodded, dismissively. "Twenty-four years with the world championship, Ruski…and it was taken by an inbred American kid…" he laughed in the back of his mouth. "At the best possible time too!"
Ivan just shrugged. He knew Alfred was trying to pick on him for that match between Spassky and Fischer that the Americans had won. He wouldn't let it get to him though…the kid must've been a protégée. It was the only answer. He took another drink.
"Y'know…you can stop drinking if you feel better…" Alfred reminded him.
"Da, I know."
"Then why're you drinkin all my vodka!" the American said, grabbing for the bottle. "I use that for parties!"
"Vith your two real friends? Or the UN? Either vay, I am sure I can put it to better use. Besides, I haven't had vodka in almost a week…" Ivan reasoned, tipping the bottle over.
"Such restraint…"Alfred muttered, bending over the counter again, defeated. "So…what were you dreamin' about anyway?" he wondered idly. "You were screaming for like half an hour and I couldn't get you to stop…it's like two in the morning. You woke up the neighbors. They started calling me… I'm not supposed to interact with them too much."
The Russian shook his head quietly.
"Don't wanna talk about it?"
"No…" he hesitated, "Alfred."
Translation
hе похожий ему- Not like him
Yay. First name basis!
To me, the right to cry is a reward for suffering. To Ivan the Terrible, it was probably weakness.
So…if you guys want, I can start putting quick references to the historic events that I mention. I'm just lazy to summarize all this.
I wanted to include Ivan III, Ivan the Terrible, Novgorod, Muscovy, Peter the Great, Indians, McCarthy, some Cold War drama, and that chess match. So, I just chopped them all together- briefly.
SUPA SUMMRIZIN HISTOREH! (^3^)
They're goin to Philly next. To eat some Philedelphia hot dogs. So, if anyone who reads this is from Philly or has been there… yeah. I can research on my own, but it's nice to actually hear it from the horse's mouth.
Review plz?