Chapter Text
The End of the World
August, 20xx
The end of the world wasn’t as spectacular as fiction promised it would be.
It happened quick and there was no dramatic music in the background to raise the stakes.
A nuclear war - it sounded so bizarre, like a scenario from a badly written sci-fi movie. Such a catastrophic event was deemed impossible in the 21st century - the century of peace, as it was promised to be.
Everyone, Russia included, thought the world was headed towards Heaven, when in reality they were marching straight to Hell. People had forgotten the laws of nature, had embraced greed and sloth and had broken all ties to spirituality.
Society divided into groups, became obsessed with past mistakes for which they sought retribution.
A new doctrine paralyzed the world, one that put the individual above all else and crushed freedom of speech, all in the promise of tolerance. There was nothing tolerant about the new regimes.
Societal bonds began to break apart. Infrastructure collapsed and deadly diseases swept through the world.
In the end, the war was mercy.
A madman who’d taken office in the USA declared war on Russia and China, in one desperate, shallow attempt to bring back American glory, real or imagined.
Russia’s own madman responded before thinking twice and soon enough the world was reduced to fire and ash.
“It will be okay,” Ivan whispered as he pulled his younger sister Belarus (the only sister he had left) into his arms.
Natalya’ navy eyes were wide in fear, her slight frame trembled. She buried her head against Russia’s chest and opened her mouth to respond.
The words died on her lips.
In the aftermath of the blast, only two skeletons remained, their bones intertwined, embraced like brother and sister, even in death.
xxx
The afterlife looked nothing like Russia had imagined.
There were no angles playing the harp on fluffy clouds. Well, there wasn’t anything really, beside the woman that stood before him.
She was tall and slim, her hair fell in gentle, blonde waves to her waist and her eyes were a striking green. Their green colour, such a peculiar shade, looked painfully familiar, but try as he might, Ivan couldn’t remember where he'd seen it before.
“Who are you?” he asked, voice hoarse, as though he hadn’t spoken in a long time, “Where am I?”
“Call me Svetlana,” the woman responded, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “As for your second question, I’m afraid I can’t answer.”
Russia huffed but a part of him understood. Some questions were better left unanswered.
“Will you…” he struggled with his choice of words, desperate to hide the anxiety swirling in his chest, “Will you punish me?”
Something akin to sadness and compassion flickered through Svetlana’s gaze but the emotion was gone as quickly as it came,
“I messed everything up, didn’t I?” Russia shook his head, a bitter laugh flying past his chapped lips, “I failed my people, my family.”
Svetlana met his eyes and he thought he knew that woman, but the knowledge who she was evaded him, like a word he had on the tip of his tongue but couldn’t remember for the life of him.
“Humanity failed, not just you, Russia. All nations made mistakes. In the end no one was innocent.”
A million questions sprang to life in Ivan’s mind but before he could ask, he heard quiet footsteps and turned around.
A wave of shock and grief washed over him as two familiar figures emerged from the darkness. He saw two ghosts, men long dead stand before him and his mind refused to accept the scene was real.
Serbia and Bulgaria looked normal, like they did before, so many years ago.
“Radko,” Ivan called out softly and spread his hands to embrace his cousin.
Serbia’s face mirrored his own expression, a mix of grief and relief. Before they could embrace, however another man appeared. A shiver ran down Russia's spine as he saw Poland's familiar pale face. Last time he'd seen his cousin, he'd stood above his dead body.
Jan’s bewilderment quickly morphed into hatred the moment he spotted Russia. Some things never changed, even in the afterlife.
“Why are they here?” it was Bulgaria who spoke up and Ivan couldn’t help but wince.
Bulgaria was one of the first nations to die, long before the Apocalypse swept across Earth. He’d been reduced to a bittersweet memory in Russia’s mind for decades and it felt strange and wrong to see him look so alive.
“I’m going to give you a second chance.” Svetlana explained, the slightest twinge of emotion twisting her voice.
“To do what?” Poland demanded harshly, crossing his hands over his muscular chest. He was still in his military uniform, the stains of blood scarlet and fresh on the torn cloth. It was the war between Russia and Poland that ended Jan’s life. Ivan couldn’t help but choke on the guilt, his chest tightening as a barrage of memories ran through his head. His cousin had never been anything more than enemy to him and yet knowing he was responsible for his death was a weight he felt he could crumble under.
“The world as we know it is gone. There’s no point in going back.” Serbia pointed out, the words bitter on his tongue.
Svetlana’s lips stretched into a smirk, as though she knew something they didn’t, as though she held a key to unlocking some great mystery.
“That depends on how far back you go,” she responded, “I’m giving you a chance to fix all the mistakes you made along the way. But to do that you have to go back much further in the past.”
A flicker of hope ignited in Ivan’s chest and he felt its flames start to melt the ice around his heart. The prospect of travelling back in time would sound absurd to any other nation but not him. Russia had always been tied to the occult, his land so vast, the border between it and the spiritual world blurred.
“You will return to the end of the Second World War,” the woman before them explained, “That’s as far back as I can take you. There, you will have on last chance to save yourself and the world in the process.”
Serbia opened his mouth to protest, no doubt to express his doubt and cynicism but Svetlana went on,
“The only way to mend your mistakes is if you do it together.” she asserted and though her voice was soft, the conviction behind it was iron clad, “The one rule you have to follow is this: You can’t fight one another. If you do… you’ll find yourself right back at the end.”
Ivan struggled to decode the meaning of her last words but he knew they would remain sealed in his memory forever and he’d go back to them countless times.
“What’s the price?” Poland demanded, a look of distrust etched on his tired face, “Surely, going back in time has a price none of us can even begin to pay.”
Uncertainty flashed behind Svetlana’s turquoise gaze but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced with a strange sort of sadness.
“In due time you will find what the price is.” she responded, her tone soft, almost like that of a parent, “But for now, you shouldn’t concern yourself with this. Someone has already agreed to pay.”
A million questions ran through Russia’s mind but he couldn’t put even one into words. It appeared Poland and Serbia felt the same. Bulgaria had a peculiar look, one Ivan couldn’t quite decipher.
He was reminded, yet again, how distant him and his cousin had become. Russia and Bulgaria were two strangers with too much history between them, their bond broken in the worst way imaginable - by betrayal.
“Nikolai, may I have a word with you?” Svetlana asked, a smear of grief to her voice.
Bulgaria nodded and stepped closer to her without hesitation. She put a hand on his shoulder and offered a tiny squeeze, a small gesture of comfort. Svetlana looked like a ghost, like something ethereal and immaterial that had long lost the ability to interfere with the real world. Then again, Bulgaria was a ghost too. They all were.
Svetlana whispered something in Nikolai’s ear but as much as Ivan strained, he couldn’t hear a word of what she said.
Nikolai only nodded, a strange look of acceptance on his face. They then shook hands and Russia could swear he saw two thin lines of gold intertwine, as though signifying some sort of strange deal, one that didn't follow the earthly laws but rather something grander.
“You will be going on your way now,” Svetlana’s melodic voice broke the silence, even as it sounded, far, far away, “I wish you good luck, you’re going to need it.”
xxx
Russia wasn’t sure what happened next. He found himself back on Earth, a sort of heaviness returning to his body.
Pain demanded his attention and he looked down, only to see his mangled chest covered in blood. The rags of his old WWII uniform clung to his emaciated form, so whatever Svetlana had done, it had worked.
As difficult as it was to accept, they were back in time, on the eve of the Cold War.
Ivan ignored the pain and got to his shaky feet, helping Serbia stand as well.
“Hvala,” Radko thanked him and before Russia could stop himself, he pulled the smaller nation into a tight embrace. If this was some sort of strange nightmare, a dirty trick his mind played on him, then the least he could do was talk to his cousin once more.
“God, I missed you so much!” he breathed into Radko’s worn out military uniform and never wanted to let go. Serbia’s was the brother he’d never had and his death was a blow he never fully recovered from. But at least now they were back together, blessed to have a second chance.
“What did Svetlana tell you in private?” Poland's voice broke the silence as he turned to view Bulgaria.
Nikolai stood a few metres away from them, his turquoise gaze locked on something in the distance. The initial shock of seeing Bulgaria alive was gone and the bitterness of the betrayal was back, burning Ivan to the ground. Russia doubted he could ever forgive his cousin, for the worst betrayal came from those he’d loved the most once, a lifetime ago.
Nikolai opened his mouth to retort but Serbia beat him to it,
“She probably just told him not to fuck things up.” Radko grumbled, merciless, “Bulgaria’s nothing more than a treacherous piece of shit, the weakest link. I doubt she had anything important to say to him.”
Poland shot Serbia a warning glare,
“That’s such a great start to rebuild your broken bond, Radko,” he hissed, then turned to view Bulgaria once more, “Really, what did she tell you?”
Hesitation flickered in Nikolai’s eyes for a split second but it was gone as quickly as it came,
“Can’t believe I’m saying this but Serbia’s right, she just warned me not to fuck up.”
“Right,” Poland nodded, forcing himself to ignore the sense of uneasiness which spilled into his chest.
(Many years later Russia wished with all his heart he had questioned Bulgaria, had managed to tear the truth out of him. But he did not, too hurt by his cousin to care).
“So what do we now?” Serbia demanded, tracing his surroundings with gaze, “And more importantly, where are we?