Ice Prison [Russia] [Flashback]

Ivan greatly loved his home. While it did not compare to the grand elaborate palaces of the Tsars in Saint Peterburg, he had grown used to living again in Moscow in a wonderful home filled with his family and friends. Yes, it was large, grey, with little to no insulation. Everyone was equal in the Soviet Union and provided the same supplies for housing, but to Ivan it was perfect. The warmth of bustling siblings and friends warmed each cold hall and room. When he was home, he required everyone to eat every meal together, and he constantly sat at the head of the table with a large smile upon his features as he watched Feliks make a stupid remark to the annoyance of Natalya, Eduard and Toris trying to interrupt little Ravis, and Elizabeta attempting to brighten Gilbert’s mood. Oh, Gilbert.

Out of all the nations living under his roof, Gilbert was the most apprehensive to the current arrangements. He was very negative and often compared his home to a prison. As far as Ivan was concerned, he thought he had been incredibly patient and kind towards the man that had spent centuries bullying him, especially considering the devastation of last war. The Eastern Front killed thousands of his people, the amount of blood that stained the snow was all consuming, and he blamed it upon Gilbert. He blamed the man for betraying him, blamed him for attempting to invade his nation, blamed him for the brutal and harsh treatment across the front. While Ludwig made the decisions for Germany, Ivan put the sole blame upon Gilbert. Ludwig was young and ambitious, but it was his much older brother who knew war and power. It was Gilbert he saw and fought in the East. It was Gilbert had spent centuries in back and forth tit for tats. As expected, Ivan took appropriate retribution during the war. However, the amount of German death still did not feel satisfying, so when he defeated Gilbert and Ludwig, he made clear to the American brat that Gilbert was his. He owned the man, and the man would spend the next centuries under his rule making up for his actions.

But again, Ivan had not sent the man to hard labor, tortured him, or leave him in a cell to starve. No, Ivan had been kind. He let the man rest and heal from the war, even bringing food to him in his room and offering to change bandages. He gave him a comfortable bed and warm covers. He would accompany him some evenings with simple conversations. It was only when Gilbert was healthy did Ivan begin to require the man to take upon chores and assist with the house. Simple chores, easy chores. Everyone in the home had chores, and because the house was large and needed constant upkeep. It was to help everyone in the home.

Yet even this was apparently too difficult for Gilbert. Ivan had recently returned from Berlin, and unfortunately, Gilbert’s people were as infuriating as the man himself. Ivan appeared rather tired from the travel and wanted to take a long bath to relax. He walked down the hallway when he heard commotion. He paused and went towards the reading room. He stopped at the door, watching as Gilbert practically threw a tantrum at the books. He frowned at first, not commenting, only witnessing as Gilbert went through the motions. When he spoke darkly to the books, Ivan finally spoke from the door frame. His arms folded over his chest, and he forced a small smile. “Are you finished, comrade?” he asked.