Don't fight your fate [Germany]

He stopped in front of the German as his other men pointed their guns, keeping everyone on their knees in the snow. Ivan, however, looked like he had merely ran into Germany randomly in a coffee shop. His expression was light and carefree, even with his red stained cheeks. He folded his own hands behind his back, and he giggled at Germany’s serious tone. He could tell the man was bitter with him. War caused such feelings to emerge between nations.

“It is almost is like…there is a word in English…Deja-vu, da? You never played well in the snow,” there was a small twinkle in his eye, “I am pushing you West, and soon, I’ll be at Berlin again!” He tilted his head to the sky as if in thought, “It has been sometime since I have been there. I do hope it holds the beauty I once remember.” He knew his words were cruel, and personally he did not care. He wanted the man before him to feel fear, to feel anger, for he had caused difficulties on Ivan’s life.  He had not forgotten their past, and while he yearned for his friendship once more, he also hoped for the man's destruction.

He turned his focus back to the blond. “Why must we fight like this? If you came to our side, Germany, we can accomplish your own goal of so long ago. We could unite Europe and bring peace to the world. Is that not what you want?” he said, curiously. They had worked together before during World War II until the man had betrayed him. The brief moments as allies had been one of friendship and company. Ivan enjoyed working with the man, until Germany had betrayed him. It hurt, even remembering it hurt. He thought he had truly formed a friend within the Axis. Though he should have known, the man was friends with Japan, after all.

Ivan could feel his patience coming to a thin thread. He had spent the past week in this battlefield, killing and pushing the Allegiance further back, moving his tanks deeper into Europe. He had been shot multiple times already, and though the wounds had started to heal, it did not ease the pain. He did enjoy killing Polish soldiers. While these particular soldier had not been a part of it, when he was young Poland had managed to conquer and take Moscow. He had not forgotten, and he certainly would take great joy in conquering Warsaw and having Poland under his thumb once more. He was so close, he could almost taste it. He knew he would need a day to regroup before pushing his soldiers forward, but part of him wished to continue now. With such thoughts playing in his head, he was not pleased to hear the quick correction Germany spoke.

His happy smile broke for a brief second before returning to his face. Germany still held hope. He would need to delude him of such nonsense. Europe would be his, and quite soon. His battles in the Middle East and South America felt at a standstill. Europe, on the other hand, he had fought these lands far too often, knew them like they were his home. After all, Eastern Europe used to belong to him. He smiled widely, “It does not matter what silly language it might be, soon everyone will be speaking Russian, da?” he giggled, not taking note to his doubt.

As it becomes quite clear to Ivan that Germany held little respect for his own dreams, he realizes it might be a lost cause trying to convince his old friend. He would see eventually. He had failed, but Ivan would not. General Winter held on his side, and Europe knew not how to prepare for the storm to come. He would win. He would make them see. They might be angry at first, but all would be happy once living in Russia’s home. For now, he took prisoners and used a different type of persuasive technique.

He walked up to Germany and clasped his hand around his throat without warning and lifted him up in the air. A bright gleam showed in his eyes as he let gravity do the work for him. He might not have the human strength of America, but Russia held quite a strong power himself. Very few nations could physically compete with him, and the one that could had hidden himself once again behind his oceans. It was only Germany and Russia now. “It is not my war, comrade. I did not want such violent actions as you. The Allegiance started this war when they attempted to invade my innocent Middle Eastern friend. I am only here to finish it,” he stated, squeezing tighter on his neck.

His own men stood their ground, though they watched horror at the interaction. While his low level soldiers had no idea they were in the presence of two nations, they knew better to interrupt or Ivan might take his frustration out on them. He giggled as his free hand pulled out his gun. He brought it up and pressed the barrel, tilting upwards, roughly against his cheek. “I tried to be kind, comrade. I hoped we could work together as we have in the past, but I suppose hope cannot change reality,” he said almost sadly though his smile remained ever present. “I am curious, how long does it take you to heal from a gun wound in the head? I have tested myself. It only takes me a few hours…but…a weak nation like yourself. Hmm. Let’s test it, da?”

He pulled the trigger.

Ivan felt determined to conquer Europe. He held the same determination during World War II and would have continued passed Germany if America and England’s forces hadn’t been in the way to halt him. He did not want Europe out of greed. He wanted it out of love and concern. He had seen how easily Europe tumbled into one war century after century. It made his people vulnerable, and it put them in great hardship. The West ruled with selfish intentions seen through their greedy capitalism, culture and their need to spread it throughout the world. He had feared such things occurring, and if America had not dropped a nuclear weapon on Japan, he would have prevented it than. Instead he had been weak, too weak. He had to grow stronger and stronger to defeat America, and yet in the process he had destroyed himself, allowing the West’s globalization to conquer. Thankfully at the beginning of the 21st Century, his Boss took every initiative to strengthen him, and slowly, he had become powerful once more. Germany would not stop him, England and France would not stop him, and certainly America would not stop him. He would unite Europe, and he would bring about a lasting peace.

He would protect the world. He would be the hero.

Iran had needed his protection. The poor nation had been accused and attacked by the West for so many decades. He understood his struggles. He had faced similar actions. He giggled at the man’s anger. “Da, yet you have sided with someone who has also taken such action before,” he reminded. Iran had been attacked unfairly and gained up against. If Russia had been put in a similar state, he could see himself taking a similar course of action. After all, America had detonated two during the last war, and he had not even been desperate. If anything, the boy was far too impatient to continue with the war. Did he not deserve shame for his previous actions if Iran did?

The gun loudly went off between them and Ivan smile turned into a dark smirk. Germany had always been quite a fighter, and he found his hand squeezing even harder around his thick neck. Admittedly, Ivan could have taken Germany as a Prisoner of War, and avoided this little tiff between them. It could be seen as the logical move, but Ivan wished to hurt the man for causing his people so much pain on the battlefield. If Germany could not be convinced to join his side, he would be punished for not. Punishment was a wonderful form of teaching. It worked often on dogs. He continued to hold him up even as he felt the rough kicks to his sides and chest. The only sign of pain traveled on his face with slight twitches on his features. Yet his focus was not on it, rather…the quite cruel words that had slipped from Germany’s mouth. They were not nice at all.

Using his grip on his throat, he swung the German’s body hard on the ground and onto his back, his hand never leaving his throat. He made a large thud that seemed to shake the ground near him, causing his own soldier’s eyes to widen and shift back. Ivan, now on one knee, looked at Germany darkly, his body leaning partially over him. “You should not say such cruel things. It can hurt one’s feelings, da?” he answered, with a stern expression. His eyes stayed locked on his until it finally broke into his friendly smile.

“Do you remember what we did to your soldiers and people as we pushed further into Europe the last time?” he remarked with lightness to his tone. He suspected Germany would remember. His men had raped and tortured his men and women with each conquering foot. “I think we will be nicer this time around,” he stated and looked at his men. “Kill them, please,” he said in Russian.

His men looked to be in shock at what was occurring, but it only took a moment for them to nod. They faced the German soldiers and fired their guns at each one.

As the years turn into decades and the decades turn into century, Ivan started to realize he held more empathy towards others than some nations. Did he have too big of a heart? Oh no, he knew that was not the case. His heart fell out of his chest too often, and he knew it was average and slow moving. He suspected it was why his body temperatures ran lower than an average person. Yet Ivan was always far more understanding of the little nations only trying to protect themselves and their cultures from those who wished to destroy it. Ivan understood Iran’s fears. He had spoken with the country often about them, for they were fears Ivan had once felt as well. If you were weak, nations took advantage and conquered. He inwardly shuttered as the Mongolian Empire traveled through his thoughts. As a young boy, he was foolishly hopeful. He thought everyone wished to be his friends and his sisters could live with him forever. Those hopes had been crushed, and he learned quickly. You must grow stronger to defend yourself.

Multiple countries had declared war on poor defenseless Iran. Iran had been desperate. Poor…poor Iran. How could others not feel for their sake? Had they too not been conquers and ganged up against, or had Ivan been the only one to feel such torture? It mattered not now. It only further proved to Ivan he was in the right, and once again he had to stand up against those who would bully innocent nations.

The sound of multiple fired gunshot echoed over the field. Blood splattered to the snow ground as each soldier made a dead thud against it. He kept his grip on the German’s throat, a smile still across his face. He did not wish to kill Germany’s soldiers, but he did not feel guilty for doing so. They were in the wrong, and for being in the wrong, they would face punishment. It was Germany’s words that made him giggle. War crimes? Truly Germany had nothing to say to him there. The man had created a genocide, by far the worse war crime of them all, even worse for he implemented it on his own citizens. “All is fair in love and war, da? You should know this,” he smiled. Besides others have done far worse to me, though he did not say it aloud. Very few nations knew what the Mongolia Empire had done to him when he was mere child, and he wished to keep such dark thoughts to himself.

However, he was left in confusion as the man started to laugh and ramble on about cars. Cars held little importance to Ivan. He made far stronger tanks, and tanks held much more use than a luxury car. “Has this war become too difficult for you, comrade?” he teased as he finally released his throat. He grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, and as he stood, he roughly jerked Germany up onto his feet. “It appears you will be coming home with me,” he stated with a cheery smile, “And since you have no one to join you,” he noted the dead bodies on the ground, “you will have quite a large and comfy amount of space during our travels. Almost…first class, da?”

He kept his hand on the German’s shoulder with a tight grip to prevent him from running.

Once again, Ivan blinks in confusion at the blond nation. He started to consider the possibility that the man had lost his sanity within this war. He rarely heard Germany laugh quite so much, and yet the man seemed to be making a habit of it. Or had Ivan become funny? He had not thought his words were humorous. He tried to think of other moments when people laughed at his words, but could not pull one to mind. America laughed, but America laughed at everything. Hm, he would have to test his new talent of humor on the Baltics when he made it home.

He kept a tight grip on the German’s shoulder as he forced him forward to his vehicle, his men in tow behind them. He listened to man declare Ivan’s notion impossible, yet this only made Ivan more confused. Germany could not be foolish enough to think Ivan would let him run off back to his country to help his men and the Allegiance. He knew the man would not be a pleasant house guest like the current people residing in his home, but he would force the man there nonetheless. “I don’t believe you understand, comrade,” he said with friendly cheer, “You are my prisoner of war. I do not have your land yet, da? But I have you, and that can be far more valuable.” He continued to push him towards his car, never letting go of his shoulder, “The Allegiance will be in quite a…disarray without your guidance. Poor little Italy…I suspect he may shed a tear or two.” He gave him a closed eye smile and nodded.

He knew it to be the case. The other European nations fought amongst themselves often, and Germany was one of the few that could stop the fighting and direct their attention to the problems at hand. Losing the German nation would hurt them, and if Ivan was lucky, the Allegiance might attempt a rescue giving him an opportunity to capture more of them.  It made the frustration and exhaustion of this battle worth it.  Not only had he pushed to the outskirts of Warsaw, but he had a nation in his grasp as well.

He attempted to ignore his insinuated comment on Moscow. Germany could hope to conquer his land, many did before him, and all fell to the death of General Winter. Only Ivan knew how to deal with the mean spirit. “Da, vodka sounds nice. I will be kind and leave a bottle in your cell. It can help warm you. Russian cells are cold. I do not wish you to get frostbite,” he said sweetly.

For the bloody battle it was, Ivan had become strangely content. He could handle loss if they gained in the end. If it brought them closer to their goal, and while he had felt in a fairly foul mood, he could sense it shifting away. He had captured Germany, and the man was strangely cooperative and by cooperative, he meant not attempting to run away like many nations in a similar position would attempt to do. He would have such good news to deliver to his Boss, and he would be able to leave the battlefield to travel home for a brief time. He had been on the front lines traveling to one after another for so long, he missed his home. He hoped to be there soon, and it brought a sprinkle of joy in his numb heart. He would make certain to have Lithuania make a large celebratory dinner. He smiled at the thought still pushing the man forward.

“Hm?” he noted as the man began to speak again, likely more cruel words to hurt him. Before he could dismiss them, the words fully sunk in, and his eyes widened.

Nations could not die in a similar fashion as humans. They represented a body of people, land, and culture, and as long as those existed, they would exist as well. Their strength matching the strength of their people. If a nation had a cough or a sickness, it was not caught through a virus or disease; it had been brought down on the nation through a struggling economy. True wounds on a nation were not from weapons, but rather a large attack on the people within their country, and they never left a nations form, turning to scars to last forever as a reminder of their history. As immortal as they could be consider, they still felt pain. The slice of a sword, a gunshot wound, a forced broken bone, they all still caused pain. They would heal, quicker than a human, but the pain would still be felt. For that reason, Ivan’s only response was, “ебать” before everything exploded around him.

It was not the first time he had been blown to tiny pieces, and he suspected it would not be the last, yet it still felt worse every time. For most mortals, such pain would end them instantly, but for Russia, he could feel his very skin burning, his fingers and bones tearing from their joints, his body slowly being torn apart until finally everything went black. No scream. Only pain.

---

His body sunk into the surroundings around him, far too heavy to move. His mind dragged through a fog as he tried to pull it together. He could see flashes, flashes of snow and a lone sunflower trying not to die from the winter frost. He saw a young Lithuania looking towards him confused. He saw Prussia running towards him, sword drawn, as he ran across an ice covered lake. His own voice hoarse from shouting at him to stop. He saw China pulling out his long pipe and breathing smoke into his face telling him to come back when he was stronger. Anastasia taking his hand and pulling him to a dance. Lenin and Stalin presenting him with a new flag. Finland hiding behind the snow covered mountains, a sniper rifle in hand. Germany handing him a beer, a swastika on his arm, as they celebrated their new alliance. England’s suspicious look as he joins the Allies first meeting. Prussia crying as he yanked the man away from his brother seeing a wall build between them. North Korea grinning and showing him a dead American soldier. Vietnam thanking him before disappearing into yellow gas. Stars. So many stars. And space. And that laugh…that never ending laugh as his friends and family left his home. That constant annoying laugh.

He groaned as his consciousness slowly returned. His eyes scrunched together before slowly opening to the bright light. He closed them once more and let out a tired sigh. Ivan rarely slept peacefully, but he knew he had not been sleeping. He had gone through it before, the wash of memories as his body rejuvenated itself. He almost begged for sleep, he wanted to close his eyes and forget, yet he knew sleep would not come for some time now. It never did. He slowly lifted his heavy arm and rubbed it across his face.

“Russia, you’re awake,” he heard a familiar voice of his General leading the Eastern European Front.

“Yes,” he responded, his mouth dry, “How long?” His mind still tried to peace moments together. He had been with Germany. He remembered as much, but from their it became foggy. He knew it would only become clearer with time.

“It has been a week,” General Petrov stated, “At first there was little at the sight of the explosion, but I had been informed of your presence there. It took a day for the first of you to start to appear. I had the men gather you and bring you here.”

He nodded, his hand falling to his side. He took in the area and realized he was in a tent on a cot likely outside of Warsaw. Only his top officials in his government knew of his nation status just as his Boss. They knew how to cover incidence like these up to not frighten their people. “Germany?” his scratchy voice asked.

“We found other parts growing as yours and assumed him the culprit. He is healing as well. We have chained him in a different section, though once he wakes, I do not know how effective the chains will be. From what I have gathered, your kind has few limitations,” he informed him.

A frown traced his lips. Germany was a fool. He blew them up for what? The man was stilled trapped within his grounds. If anything, he had only delayed the outcome. He attempted to push his body up, only to hiss in frustration.

“Russia, you should rest. Everything is under control,” Petrov ordered, but Ivan did not take orders if he did not agree with them. He shook his head and pulled his legs off the cot.

“Hand me my clothes,” he ordered, his fingers clenched into the side of the cot, his jaw locked. He felt as if he were moving rocks, but the anger burning through his veins kept him moving. Petrov sighed and nodded to another soldier who retrieved his clothes. Ivan slowly made work to put on his uniform, though it looked disheveled, even throwing on a new scarf. Thankfully, he had not been wearing his sister’s scarf, or Germany would have much worse to pay for. “My pipe?” he requested.

Petrov stood and brought him the metal pipe. Ivan took it and used it as a cane, pushing himself up and off the cot. He started to limp towards the entrance of the tent. Petrov knowing better to argue stayed silent in the background. Ivan ordered a younger soldier to take him to Germany, and with that he left in a slow pace.

It took far longer than he wanted. His body still not moving the way he wished as they traversed through the sea of tents of his army. They finally came to a guarded one, and the men moved as Ivan came to the entrance. He stopped in front of one of them. He took his knife from his side before entering the tent.

In the cot, chained, laid Germany. He almost looked to be in a peaceful sleep, though Ivan knew it was not. His fist tightened on his pipe. Ivan considered himself a patient man. He had dealt with many hardships and could still keep the smile on his face. Yet all have their limits, and blowing him up was certainly one of them.  He suspected such suicidal nonsense from the Middle Eastern Nations and Japan, but he had hoped Germany held more sense. He grabbed a chair and dragged it across the dirt to Germany’s cot. He sat down next to the man. “Time to wake up, comrade,” he stated darkly and slammed the knife deep into Germany’s forearm.

Notes: 
ебать - Fuck
Italics - Russian