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After a long slumber, the ice surrounding it had finally melted. The typical permafrost of the region usually kept it in hibernation, but the Earth had warmed enough for it to wake up. And it was hungry. As luck would have it, a very strong magical presence was somewhere in the far distance. No matter how far it would have to travel, it knew the meal would be well worth it.
The trail led it out of the tundra, through the forests, and into a strange new environment made of stone and clay. It had never seen this many humans before either. Some still had traces of a magical footprint, but they were few and far between. The signature it was seeking wasn’t a human. These were all combined barely the strength of its prey.
It traced it to a larger abode on the outskirts of the humans. The signature was overwhelming inside, enough for it to get confused and follow many different caverns inside the shelter. When it finally zeroed in on the source, it was shocked. The prey looked human…almost. There was a certain air about him (?), or maybe the violet eyes, that gave away that there was something more. It latched onto the sleeping being; power for pain was always a fair trade.
Ivan woke up to his alarm and turned to shut it off. The instant his hand made contact, the clock froze and ice spread across it and the nightstand. He threw the blankets off and they fell to the bed with a thud when they turned to blocks of ice as well.
What the fuck.
He needed to let someone else know. He had to call — don’t touch the phone. He can’t afford to lose that.
“Call Sunflower,” he said once it voice activated. The phone rang and rang as Ivan looked around for anything different in his room. What changed?
“Heyo, mornin’!” Alfred said.
“Yes, morning. Come here, now,”
“Wow, morning wood that bad? Don’t mind if I do,”
“No! But I wish. It’s…something’s wrong. Just get here,” He wished it was really just that and another peaceful start to his day.
“Are you hurt? Talk to me Vanya,”
“It’s hard to explain, easier for you to see it,”
“Okay, okay. Do you want me to stay on the line?”
“Please,” Alfred talked through exactly what he was doing and where he was on his way to getting ready, and was the only thing keeping him from completely panicking. He wrapped his arms around himself in a self-hug, curling up to not touch anything else. The room temperature dropped significantly with the new ice sculptures and he kept reaching for the blankets that were now frozen solid.
“Up here!” Ivan yelled once he heard the door downstairs. His voice was more watery than he expected. Alfred stomped up the stairs and flung the door open.
“Whoa,”
“I don’t know either. I just touched them,” Alfred knocked on the blankets and ran a hand along the alarm clock.
“These are definitely ruined,”
“Thank you, I couldn’t tell,” Ivan rolled his eyes, “I just woke up and it happened. Nothing in my room looks different,” Alfred turned and started digging through his drawers, eventually pulling out some thick gloves that he shoved onto Ivan’s hands. He wandered to the trash can and grabbed a dirty tissue from it.
“Try to grab that and not freeze it,” Ivan focused on holding back his power, like clamping down an overstuffed suitcase, and held it. Finally, there was something he touched that didn’t turn to ice. Alfred took it back and looked it over.
“It looks okay to me,” Ivan said, “The gloves helped, I think,”
“Same, but do we really wanna test out your new powers?”
A few minutes later, they were in the middle of Siberia, high in the Arctic Circle. Alfred was bundled in an almost comical amount of layers while Ivan just had a simple scarf and coat. It seemed his tolerance of the cold had increased as well.
He still hated it though.
“Alright! Gloves off and go for it!” Alfred yelled from a decent distance away.
“Go for what?!”
“Make shit, I dunno! Ice walls, ice castles, ice sculptures, snow piles, whatever you think of!” He took off the gloves and reached inward, closing his eyes. His hands twitched and he let the muscles freely move. It was like blowing out a dam he didn’t know was there. He raised a hand with a short jerk and heard ice rumble, crack, and roar.
“Yooooooooo holy shit! That’s as tall as the Bridge Kalifa, Brige — that big ass building UAE has!” Ivan opened his eyes and saw an ice spike rise high into the atmosphere. He made these sort of spikes in the past during wars, but only as tall as a fir, not…this. Seeing it only gave him a thrill and more ideas came to mind. The landscape became covered in structures and his heart and magic sang as one. Alfred used his own magic to smash the ice and make room for more. He experimented with ice, snow, slush, hail, detailed perfect art pieces and harsh defenses. He wasn’t even tired from it either as the hours dragged on and on. The wonder and encouragement Alfred brought was welcome; he felt entirely in his element and didn’t mind the cold for the first time in…most of his long life, really.
Alfred started getting more involved with the magic show, daring Ivan to make things for him to skate across, climb, or parkour around. He leaped off an icy peak and Ivan tracked where he was going to land, aiming to make another platform jutting out —
It instead hit him dead in the chest and he went limp, dropping like a stone.
“FEDYA!” Ivan screamed, his voice carrying across the wilderness. The ground below turned to ice so he could skate over faster. There was a layer of snow to cushion the fall, but he still couldn’t help the panic. He grabbed Alfred’s check and jerked his hand back at the immediate frost bite that spread on it. He looked no worse for wear on the outside, but this was magic they were dealing with. Alfred’s eyes opened soon after and eventually focused on Ivan.
“I’m okay; you just knocked the wind outta me,” Alfred said.
“Are you sure? You’re not feeling anything different?”
“Nope! You didn’t hurt me, everything's good here,”
“Your cheek is frostbitten,”
“It’ll heal. Let’s at least take a break for now, I guess,”
Ivan was on edge after that. Something must’ve happened to Alfred. This increase in power came out of nowhere, or at least there was no logical reason for it. A Nation’s select magical ability was their own to have and control, independent of their government’s power. It would’ve taken decades of solid practice for Ivan’s abilities to reach the state they were in today without outside help. Did someone curse him and it actually took hold this time?
It was hard to cook dinner with the gloves on, even harder to eat it. Toward the end of the meal though, Alfred sent him a message.
Sunflower: Seems like something did linger. at least it’s cute! don’t know if it’ll stick, but it’s nice to carry a piece of you with me!
The picture attached was a selfie with Alfred pointing to a a new icy blue streak in his hair. Ivan doubted that it would be the end of the consequences for striking him with magic this powerful at his heart.
: Let me know if it changes any more.
Sunflower: it’s just a little magical hair dye.
: Let me know.
Alfred was still fairly young and didn’t know as much about magic as much as the older Nations, so he didn’t see why this was a problem. For it to even leave any sort of effect on another Nation meant it shouldn’t had been messed with. And now, one or both of them were going to pay the price.
His power was increasing.
He needed thicker and thicker gloves and more layers and concentration to stop himself from freezing everything he touched. Sleeping was a nightmare with his bed turning into an ice block once he drifted off and lost control.
It was date night, so he met up with Alfred at a busy street in the heart of Moscow. This part of the city was alive on a Friday night, with music and street vendors littering the roadway. He tried searching the crowd for that familiar blond hair, but couldn’t find it. He did feel a presence sneaking behind him…
“Boo!” Alfred said from his back. Ivan turned with a smile —
— And saw his had a full head of the icy blue hair.
“I told you to tell me if something changed,” Ivan hissed, “This is a change,”
“Really? It’s just like before, just all over,”
“…Yes. A change. And you cheek is more frostbitten,”
“Oh, it’s numb so I didn’t notice,”
“Numb? Oh, Fedya,” He reached out to touch the cheek and withdrew at the last second.
“Uh, has your situation changed at all?” Alfred asked.
“It’s gotten worse. More powerful,” Alfred started down the street and Ivan trailed next to him, taking care to not accidentally bump him and make things worse.
“Damn. I’ll handle touching everything while we’re out. And I’ll let you know every little detail of what happens to me,”
“You say that sarcastically, but please do,”
Sunflower: i’m cold
…That couldn’t be a coincidence. Shit.
Half of his home was encased in ice by this point; he could barely hold it back anymore. He had taken to teleporting up to the spot they originally experimented and letting lose for over half the day. It seemed to calm down his powers enough to eat something or pass out for a bit, but he ended up just sleeping in the snow instead of ruining more blankets.
Ivan teleported to the embassy as soon as he got the text; something felt off.
Sunflower: it’s getting really, really cold..,.,.
His speed walk turned into a run at the second message. His diplomats must’ve saw him and spread the word; by the time he got to the front door his car was waiting for him. He raced through the streets of D.C. to Alfred’s home in Virginia. He was begging the key and door to not ice over as he tried over and over again to unlock it. It finally gave and he ran in.
“In here!” Alfred called from deeper in the house. Ivan left the door wide open as he searched and found Alfred on the ground with his limbs turning to ice.
“Vanya what the fuck is happening?!” He cried out, his eyes wide with panic.
“I don’t know, I — “ should he get him on a fire, or would that just melt his limbs off? Was it encasing him or was he fully turning? As Ivan kneeled over him, the ice spread to his abdomen and he could see the terror washing over the other Nation.
“Am I dying? I don’t wanna die,”
“You’re not going to die. You’re…you’ll be okay,” It was creeping up his neck.
“Okay, I trust you. I love — “
The ice fully covered him and Ivan broke.
What had he done? He transformed into some sort of monster and didn’t do anything to stop it. Was he really powerful enough now to kill another Nation? No, no, no Alfred couldn’t be dead, please fuck he can’t lose anyone else. He can’t be alone. He has his sisters but they couldn’t see him the same way Alfred did. It was getting so hard to breathe, like it was his own lungs freezing up. If only it was him instead. He’s not — he couldn’t —
There was a crack in the ice.
Ivan lifted his head out of his hands and looked over, hope blooming in his chests. Was it just temporary then? That couldn’t be it. A few more cracks appeared and then Alfred burst out, flinging it all around the room. He was gasping for air, but the frost bite was gone and his hair was back to normal.
“Fedya, are you okay?” he asked, unable to hide the wobble in his voice.
“…Dude, Russia, what the hell are you doing in my house?”
What?
“…When did we first talk?” He had a small, sneaking suspicion…
“Like ever? 1863. I mean, I technically sent a thank you letter but you didn’t reply,”
“And you did you recover from MKUltra?”
“How do you know I was in that,” Alfred America demanded, his eyes narrowing while Ivan’s were filled with horror.
No no no no no no no no no not this. Please not this.
He forgot their entire relationship. That must be it. Was this the price?
“I — I should go,” Ivan managed to get out.
“Yeah, you should. I’ll call the embassy,”
“I drove here,”
“You’re not leaving my fucking sight until I can pass you off to someone else. Positive control and all that,” Ivan was stuck in place while America made the call, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel it shifting and moving closer to his skin, ready to fall out once the heartbreak became too much. He would force it back in if it happened, though. He deserved to feel every ounce of pain from his carelessness.
His eyes were tearing up by the time he heard another car outside. America had spent the last 15 minutes staring him down and sizing him up. The house that was once so familiar seemed a cold and unforgiving shelter now.
He got into the car with the diplomat while another drove his car out. Once he was away from America, he couldn’t stop a few tears from falling.
“What happened?” The diplomat asked, “Did you guys break up or something?”
“…Due to magical bullshit, he forgot our entire relationship,”
“Ohhhh yikes. Over a century from what my coworkers said, right?”
“Y-yeah,” He was stuttering in front of a human about his relationship, how low has he fallen?
“Cry all you want then, damn. That sucks,”
Despite having permission, Ivan held back the tidal wave of emotions. He could already see them shivering by his magic and he didn’t want to hurt anyone else today. The instant his was on his technical territory, he teleported away to a cave deep in the wilderness of his lands that went far down into the Earth. What about his other friends? He finally got a group that he actually trusted and liked and now they could disappear with a single touch. What if he hurt his sisters and they forgot about the centuries they’ve spent together? What if he became truly and forever alone with no escape from it, knowing he would always eventually slip up?
The mental scaffolding holding him up broke and he screamed, his voice echoing into the cave as he walked in. A flurry of animals ran out in response as he climbed down. He hated caves, hated being trapped, but this would be the last place they would look for him if they even missed him at all. He can’t let them touch him, he can’t see the surface again. His power grew with his anguish as every centimeter of the cave was quickly covered in a layer of ice. No rock, flora, or fauna was sparred as he kept going down, down, down. The sun would eventually be a distant memory; the sun that was the same color as Alfred’s hair. Maybe he’d eventually forget what his Sunflower looked like too. Maybe his sisters’ voices would fade.
The ice started glowing once he was deep enough in the caverns that the sun’s rays wouldn’t reach, filling them with an eerie blue. He kept going deeper and deeper, eventually reaching the bottom before curling up among the rocks and ice.
It was deathly quiet,
and so, so, cold.
It had been three months since Russia’s whole freak out at his place. He searched all the databases for the leak that he himself was a sub-project to see how Russia knew, but to no avail. Once the main presentations were over at the quarterly conference, he was quickly cornered by Ukraine for some reason.
“Where is my little brother?” she demanded.
“How should I know? The Cold War is over, I don’t keep track of him like that anymore,”
“Because you’re his boyfriend?”
“I’m literally not, no matter what he says,”
“Did you break up and now he’s too depressed to move?” Okay, were his sisters in on this big joke as well? This was getting annoying…
“No! We were never together in the first place, anyway!”
“Then what’s this?” she pulled out her phone and scrolled through multiple text messages of Russia saying that he was cute and photos of him or the both of them together that he had absolutely zero memory of.
“Damn, AI is crazy these days,” he sighed.
“Maybe you’ll talk once I stick Natalya on you,”
“You’re acting like that’s a threat to me. A bunch of Russia’s allies keep asking me the same thing and I keep giving y’all the same answer; you’re all crazy,” she stormed away and he hoped she wouldn’t actually get Belarus. He could take her of course, but she was still batshit insane, especially about her brother. From across the room, America caught England staring him down. Once their eyes met, the older Nation scurried away. He went back to mindlessly doomscrolling when he felt more eyes on him again. He looked up and saw England pointing at him with Norway and Romania by his side nodding, before they started coming toward him.
“What’s up, guys!” he said, “What brings you over to the best corner of the room?”
“Have you encountered anything strange or dark in the past while?” England asked.
“I mean, Russia was being weird a while ago, like weirder than normal. But other than that no…do I wanna know why?”
“A creature has its magic on you,” Norway said.
“Ew, what? Like actually? You know I don’t really believe in your friends,”
“This one isn’t a friend, far from it,” England replied, “Romania, do you have everything we need to get rid of it?”
“Back at my place, yeah. Meet there tonight?”
“I mean, I guess I’ll humor it and make room in my schedule,” America said. He didn’t actually have anywhere else to be, but good to keep them guessing.
Romania’s place was a dark and creepy gothic manor fitting for whatever they probably had planned for him. The door was unlocked for him so he pushed in —
“Absolutely not,” he said as soon as he entered, “No fucking way am I getting in there,” The three other Nations were in dark cloaks and standing around an ominous circled lined with candled and old books.
“Oh, c’mon! Don’t you want the creature’s magic gone?” Romania said, “I haven’t done thing in a while, it’ll be fun!”
“If they’re actually not real like you believe, then it’s just going along with our ‘insanity’ for a few minutes. And if they are, then you owe us,” England countered.
Ugh.
Fine, fuck it. Worse case scenario they’re all insane and he walks away with a stupid story to tell Matthew. Best case…magical creatures are real? Or at least this one was. With a sigh, he walked into the circle and felt a tingle across his skin and his heart race.
“It’s already reacting,” Romania said, “You might want to sit down for the rest of this,” Alfred sat and took a deep breath to try and calm his heart. He himself didn’t feel nervous, but it was almost like the air around him was shaking. The candles surrounding him were lit and there was a putrid smell emanating from some of the bowls nearby.
“This will hurt,” Norway said.
“Wait, what — “
“We are ripping magic from a very old being off of you, and once we start we can’t pause or we’ll have to redo it all. So if you say stop, we won’t,” England followed, “You’ll be fine,” Alfred folded his hands into his lap so they couldn’t tell he was shaking. Don’t show them he was weak, that he’s scared of their stupid —
A blinding white pain tore through his head and he couldn’t hold back the scream that followed. It was as if something was digging claws deep into his brain and pulling it apart. He tried launching himself out of the magic circle but hit his head on an invisible wall. Alfred was pretty sure he was trying to tell whatever was causing his pain to stop, but no one listened. He was alone and in pain and no one was here to help again, like when he got really sick that one year during his Civil or when…
No, someone was there. Not England. Who?
The fragment of a memory gave him a distraction, something to cling onto. He pulled at the thread to unravel it and piece together what was missing. Because through the pain, he felt a gaping hole in his heart.
_____ had been staying for a month or two so far. Meeting his pen pal for the first time had been awesome so far! Their Bosses (or, the highest ranking official of _____’s Navy that was wintering in his New York ports) had taken notice of their friendship and asked a local painter to commemorate it. He was fresh from another battle when they told him to come in, still carrying his rifle and everything.
“What happened?” ____ asked, running a cool thumb along the blemish on his cheek.
“Just typical war stuff. You probably know,” ___’s eyes looked between the two wounds on his head and then to the painter.
“Do you have gauze somewhere in the studio?” he asked.
“I do, but I would prefer to get started as soon as possible,”
“That’s not what I asked,” With a sigh, the painter left and ____ looked back at him.
“You’re in quite the getup,” Alfred said, looking him over. Pure white with a large belt and a wide gap dead in the center of his chest; an area he was having some difficulty keeping his gaze away from, “It’s — uh. Nice. Wonder if I’ll get something like that,”
“It’s a bit too open for my taste, too cold. But yours looks nice too,”
“Oh, uh, it’s just my uniform,” Alfred was suddenly grateful for the constantly bleeding side wound so he couldn’t start blushing. The painter came back with the gauze and ____ carefully placed it over his cheek and head.
“Won’t these heal anyway? There’s no point,” Alfred said. Rus___’s fingers were cold against his skin. He was always cold; Alfred didn’t know how he could stand it.
Wait, Russia? Was that it? Really? Russia wasn’t anything like these memories. Did he actually return the letter? There’s no one else in that fragment that it could be. If he thought too hard about it, trying to focus instead of letting the memory flow by, he could feel the sharp pain from whatever thing they were ripping off of him come back full force. So maybe he’ll just…let it.
“Yes, but it’s a better look for the painting. The wounded lionheart and his king,”
“You know, I fought a whole war to get rid of a king,”
“Would you make an exception?”
“…Maybe,” He did look very regal and by this point his pen pal had evolved into something else. Not a crush. Definitely not a crush…probably. Could Nations love each other? Did that mean they were allies or was that just something that could be separated from their political nature? England didn’t really explain much of that before they parted.
The painter arranged them to stand next to each other and it took all of Alfred’s willpower to keep upright. His legs had shooting pains through them from his southern half rebelling, his head still ached from what Russia (Which, apparently his modern self is going along with) patched up, the side wound felt hot and was pulsing with his heartbeat, and he was exhausted from the constant battles. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but he slowly started to sway as the pain sunk into his bones. He leaned too far forward and grabbed the closest thing to stabilize himself.
Which happened to be Russia’s belt.
“Oh — didn’t mean to do that,”
“Keep it there if it helps. Lean back,” Alfred complied and felt ____’s cool hand on the small of his back.
Why was he drawing a blank again? Something wasn’t right. Was it his first name? Was he really on a first name basis with Russia, even back then? He remembers crushing on him, but nothing grew from it he thought. What the fuck was he missing? What was Russia to him?
With a hand on his belt, Alfred could literally feel the moment ____’s (He guessed he’ll just go with whatever his first name is. Did Russia tell him?) core tensed up to support him. His knees felt better without having to hold up his full weight. ____’s hand slowly migrated to his hip and held him in a half hug. He let his thoughts linger on being so close at the painter worked. Why not? Not like he’d ever tell the Nation that.
Eventually, he noticed a subtle shaking from his painting partner. He held him up for who knows how long, but he deserved a break.
“I can lean on the gun for a bit,” Alfred said.
“Thank you. Just a few minutes of rest should do it,” he nodded and bit back a gasp once he was standing on his own again. He leaned on the gun more and more, a crutch instead of a weapon, and declined ____’s attempts to help stabilize him again. He could hold himself up, it’d be fine. It’s just a little while longer.
A little while longer.
A little while longer.
A little w—
The gun slipped and America came crashing down right on his injured side. His vision went white from the pain as he screamed. ____ broke his stance and joined him on the floor, ripping open the uniform and exposing the injury to the open air.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I___ (Oh shit, he was getting somewhere. Started with an I, apparently) demanded, pressing a freezing hand to his side. The chill shocked him enough that he could get words out again.
“I thought all wounds healed, but it’s been there since the start of the war so I’ve just ignored it,”
“Injuries caused by ourselves or representations of events don’t heal on their own as fast. Who on Earth told you that?”
“England,”
“…I’m going to duel him to the death next meeting. Here — “ I__n reached down and scooped him up, bringing him close to his bare chest. Even now, Ivan was cold.
Ivan.
Ivan.
IVAN.
He snapped out of it to a mug of unknown liquid shoved in his face. It was brighter in the manor with the ceiling lights on and Alfred carefully shifted himself upright. His head was pounding as a century and some extra decades of memories poured back into him.
“You alright lad?” England asked, retracting the mug a bit, “Even after we finished you were out of it for a while, so I made tea,”
“All yours. Where’s Ivan,” he demanded. He would admit that at least this creature was real, because if it could erase that much of his past for him to not notice for months then Ivan was…
“We contacted Belarus with locating her brother as soon as we were done. She’s pinning him somewhere in the wilderness of his lands and deep underground. We’ll be setting out tomorrow,”
“Why not today? Underground? He claustrophobic and hates caves, we need to — “
“All of us are exhausted, even if it hasn’t hit you yet. We need to prepare. This being makes its prey more magically powerful in exchange for causing great pain, so expect harsh winter conditions and a lot of ice. Are you feeling up to moving?”
He went through the motions of traveling back home for the night, finally coming to a stop in his bedroom closet as he looked for the proper gear. Ivan’s presence was everywhere, how could he forget him? His boots were by the door, his sweaters were on the hangers, his favorite sweets in the pantry.
Three months?
Was Ivan alone in the cave this whole time? Did he deliberately hide there so they wouldn’t find him without supernatural aid?
He set aside a few clothes and blankets for Ivan to wrap him in once they found him. And then he’ll figure out how to make it up to him for forgetting him.
The extraction team was bigger than Alfred expected. In addition to himself, the Magic Trio, and Natalya, Sofiya and Yao also joined the party.
“Iran said it was too cold for her and North Korea knew you would be be here, so they didn’t come,” Yao said, “I will lend my fire to find my friend, though!” The same as Ivan had command of ice, China had with fire. It showed seeing as he was the only one wearing relatively light layers compared to the rest of them. He could probably give Ivan with the creature a run for their money in terms of magical prowess.
It was easy to see where the cave was once they got out to the ice fields if the giant ice spikes were of any guidance. They cast long shadows across the barren landscape and gave only a small opening for them to enter. They climbed in single file with Yao taking the lead. Once inside, Alfred couldn’t hold back a gasp.
Every inch of the cave was covered with at least a thin layer of ice. He saw a colony of bats frozen to the top of the cavern and colorful patches of moss from when they could still feel the sun. The ice gave off an eerie blue glow and let them see deep, deep, deep into the cave. If he squinted, he could see a cluster of ice spikes near the bottom. Was it centered around Ivan? Did he stick himself down here or did the monster (because that’s really what this thing was) control him and make him come down here? He wanted to smash through and launch himself down, but before he could move Norway handed him a rope.
“Find somewhere to tie this,” he said.
“We can make it down,”
“And then we will be stuck in a frozen cave trying to heal with no way to get back out,” Alfred sighed at the response and searched the cave wall for an anchor. Every second they wasted up here was another second Ivan was trapped.
They rappelled down and everyone immediately huddled around Yao for warm, who sent out little fire sprites so he wouldn’t be crowded.
“It must’ve gotten stronger the last few months, this is ridiculous,” England grumbled under his breath, shivering in his cloak. It was chillingly quiet and Alfred realized how fucked up Ivan would be after all this. He knew from first hand experience what this kind of silence and solitude did. He wouldn’t be surprised if Ivan didn’t think they were real when they found him.
When they reached the main cluster, he and Natalya rushed to the front, fists and knives drawn. They glanced at each other and in a moment of solidarity both struck the ice and watched it crumble under their combined force.
“Both of you, get back!” Romania yelled, “The dark presence here is overwhelming, we don’t want it to transfer!” But Ivan was —
Oh god, Ivan.
“Stay back,” he whispered, his voice so, so quiet it could barely be heard, “I don’t want to hurt you again,” He was curled in on himself with snowflakes patterned across his skin. He looked deathly pale in the blue light and tried getting as far away from them as possible.
“You haven’t hurt me before, big brother,” Natalya replied.
“No, I have. And then you forget and I’m alone. It happens over and over,” Oh, so they were deep into hallucinatory nightmare territory. Sofiya carefully approached, even as Norway’s hand jutted out to stop her.
“We’re here to help you,” She said.
“Not you too, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please not again,” For once, Alfred held back and sheltered behind Natalya, not wanting to make things worse for his partner.
“Everyone move out of the way and let us handle it,” England demanded. The sisters and Alfred yielded while Yao provided the light. If it was painful for himself to be rid of the monster, it was splitting his heart in two watching Ivan scream and convulse when he couldn’t do anything about it. Sofiya looked like she was going to throw up, so Alfred turned her into him with a hug. Natalya was stock still besides them but hovered close to her older sister. He almost felt tears welling up in his own eyes as Ivan started to cry and the tears crystallized into ice on his face.
For a split second at the end, he saw it. The monster that caused all this.
It was pulled off of Ivan finally and writhing on the ground. It looked like some sort of large, ugly newt with magical-looking glowing runes or marks all over it. A moment later and it was turned into a fine mist of red flesh and blue magic by Romania. Ivan collapsed, overwhelmed and exhausted. Before he or Ivan’s family had time to move, Yao swooped in and tied Ivan to his back and shoulders.
“To prevent you all from fighting over him, and to keep him warm,” was his only response, which…fair. He could definitely win against both of them though.
The trek back up was harder than coming in because of all the ice melting. It made the rocks slippery and they were losing light. But as the ice disappeared, the sun shone more and more into the cave and he felt warmth on his face even from deep in the cavern. Ivan was finally out.
Back at Ivan’s home, the fire was at full power as everyone recovered. Ivan was bundled under blankets, Yao was passed out from using so much of his magic, the Magic Trio joined him for the same reason, and —
Okay, not all of them were sleeping, because he was currently dodging knives from Natalya while her sister tried to calm her down.
“So it is your fault!” she said, hurling another kitchen knife at him, “If you two weren’t messing around he wouldn’t have disappeared,”
“You don’t know that. If any of us had gotten hurt he would have reacted the same. You know him,” Sofiya said, but that didn’t change her aim. Alfred was intent on dodging instead of fighting back because with the way that he fought, she…he didn’t want to actually fight her and explain to his partner after forgetting him for three months that he beat his little sister to a bloody pulp. And she was also technically correct.
“If I admit that you’re partially right will you stop trying to kill me?” Alfred asked.
“No,”
“Well, alright. Never mind then,”
She kept throwing knives until Sofiya had slowly confiscated them one by one by picking them out of the walls. Once she was out, she went back to the living room to presumably see her brother again.
“Thanks for the save,” Alfred said.
“Of course. Thank you for not killing her,” Sofiya replied.
“I wouldn’t actually do that. I mean, we all care about the same Nation,”
“Yes. The bit of distance I have gotten since the split has been nice, but he’s still my little brother. Let’s put these back and get some sleep,”
The living room couch was big enough to fit practically half of Europe on it, so they had no trouble finding a spot to rest. Natalya was laying next to him, one hand gripping the blankets he was bundled in. Sofiya gravitated to the other side and feel asleep almost immediately while Alfred tried to find where he would go. While deciding, he saw Ivan’s eyes open just a fraction.
“…Sunflower?” he whispered, his voice still weak.
“Hey, how ya feelin’?” Alfred leaned over him and put a hand on his cheek. Still colder than normal, but he was warming up.
“Is this real? Am I out? Do you…” Ivan stopped himself and blinked away a few tears.
“I remember. This is real,”
“What year did I winter my Navy in your ports, when we first met in person?”
“That’s your verification question? Easy — 1863. That uh — the memory of that one painting and you holding me up helped me find my way out of the spell after the magic guys did their work, actually,”
“I think I still have that painting up in the attic somewhere. We can find it tomorrow,” Ivan visibly relaxed and shifted under the blankets, “But I’m cold,” Alfred smiled; he knew exactly what that meant. He carefully moved the layers around until he could cuddle up next to Ivan in the cocoon. There would be a long road to recovery, but they were finally together again. And hopefully Alfred wouldn’t have to battle any more magical creatures of this magnitude for the rest of the century.