(no subject)
For maikyaera, who posted this:
So I was reading the newspaper today and I found an article saying that Russia was threatening to stop all adoptions by citizens of the US because a 7 year old boy was sent back to Moscow alone because his adopted American mom said he was a violent psychopath. As sad as this is, I kind of want someone to write a Hetalia fic about Russia's reaction about this.
So here it is!
Russia cuddled his sweet little one, rocking him to sleep. His voice was calm and quiet, busy singing an old Russian lullaby to soothe the boy, but inside Russia was raging. America prided himself on bringing in the lost children of countries he believed below himself and Russia had tolerated this. He did not like seeing his very littlest ones taken from him, but what could he do? He could only make sure that they were leaving him for something better than Russia could give them - he had so many people, after all - and hope that their lives would be warm and happy and full of sunflowers.
But America had lied to him and ruined this particular little one's life.
This one was Sasha - Aleksandr Pyotrovich Levkov, born in Yekaterinburg. His parents had both died in a car accident one night when the road was icy, and Sasha had been passed from poor relative to poorer relative until he was put in an orphanage. He was two years old.
America had come and picked him to live in his home with one of his people when Sasha turned seven, where he would no longer be Sasha Levkov but rather “Alex Foreman”. Russia had begrudgingly let his little Sasha go, knowing that there would be more to eat and new toys to play with and maybe his Sasha would come back to him when he was older.
Sasha did come back, but it was that same year on a transatlantic flight on his own. It had been a ten hour flight from New York to Sheremetyevo, and then another two hours back to Yekaterinburg. Sasha had started the trip crying, then fell asleep. When he woke up again, the plane halfway across Europe, he sat alone, quiet and staring out the window with sad eyes.
Russia took the boy home himself, whispering to him in his native, familiar tongue. Sasha never responded; sometimes he cried, but it was as soundless as he could make it. How could such a sweet boy be...how did the American put it? Ah, a “violent psychopath.” Yes. The boy was prone to tantrums where he would throw things and scream, but all children did that. Love, kindness, and a firm hand would teach them how to behave.
If this was how America would treat his little ones, then no more. America took his weakest children and with a smile would claim loudly, “look how heroically we fixed what Russia broke!” Russia, in his current state, could do nothing but look darkly and clench his fists. But Sasha would be the last one. America could take the orphans from China, Peru, other countries with broken children that were not Russia's. America would no longer be “fixing” Russia's children; he had proved incapable. Russia would not sacrifice more of his own to America's hero complex.
“Bayu, bayushki, bayu,” Russia crooned quietly into Sasha's dark, curly hair, “Ne lozhisya na krayu...”
Sasha was home now. And neither he nor his brothers or sisters would leave Russia again.
The lullaby Russia is singing is called "The Little Grey Wolf". The lines translate to "baby, baby, rock-a-bye, on the edge you mustn't lie..." The song continues to talk about how if you do a wolf will drag you into the forest and eat you. Russian lullabies are so soothing.
Also, I did make the boy's name and history up.
So I was reading the newspaper today and I found an article saying that Russia was threatening to stop all adoptions by citizens of the US because a 7 year old boy was sent back to Moscow alone because his adopted American mom said he was a violent psychopath. As sad as this is, I kind of want someone to write a Hetalia fic about Russia's reaction about this.
So here it is!
Russia cuddled his sweet little one, rocking him to sleep. His voice was calm and quiet, busy singing an old Russian lullaby to soothe the boy, but inside Russia was raging. America prided himself on bringing in the lost children of countries he believed below himself and Russia had tolerated this. He did not like seeing his very littlest ones taken from him, but what could he do? He could only make sure that they were leaving him for something better than Russia could give them - he had so many people, after all - and hope that their lives would be warm and happy and full of sunflowers.
But America had lied to him and ruined this particular little one's life.
This one was Sasha - Aleksandr Pyotrovich Levkov, born in Yekaterinburg. His parents had both died in a car accident one night when the road was icy, and Sasha had been passed from poor relative to poorer relative until he was put in an orphanage. He was two years old.
America had come and picked him to live in his home with one of his people when Sasha turned seven, where he would no longer be Sasha Levkov but rather “Alex Foreman”. Russia had begrudgingly let his little Sasha go, knowing that there would be more to eat and new toys to play with and maybe his Sasha would come back to him when he was older.
Sasha did come back, but it was that same year on a transatlantic flight on his own. It had been a ten hour flight from New York to Sheremetyevo, and then another two hours back to Yekaterinburg. Sasha had started the trip crying, then fell asleep. When he woke up again, the plane halfway across Europe, he sat alone, quiet and staring out the window with sad eyes.
Russia took the boy home himself, whispering to him in his native, familiar tongue. Sasha never responded; sometimes he cried, but it was as soundless as he could make it. How could such a sweet boy be...how did the American put it? Ah, a “violent psychopath.” Yes. The boy was prone to tantrums where he would throw things and scream, but all children did that. Love, kindness, and a firm hand would teach them how to behave.
If this was how America would treat his little ones, then no more. America took his weakest children and with a smile would claim loudly, “look how heroically we fixed what Russia broke!” Russia, in his current state, could do nothing but look darkly and clench his fists. But Sasha would be the last one. America could take the orphans from China, Peru, other countries with broken children that were not Russia's. America would no longer be “fixing” Russia's children; he had proved incapable. Russia would not sacrifice more of his own to America's hero complex.
“Bayu, bayushki, bayu,” Russia crooned quietly into Sasha's dark, curly hair, “Ne lozhisya na krayu...”
Sasha was home now. And neither he nor his brothers or sisters would leave Russia again.
The lullaby Russia is singing is called "The Little Grey Wolf". The lines translate to "baby, baby, rock-a-bye, on the edge you mustn't lie..." The song continues to talk about how if you do a wolf will drag you into the forest and eat you. Russian lullabies are so soothing.
Also, I did make the boy's name and history up.