[Fanfic] Hetalia/ Russia, Latvia
Title: Rays of sunlight
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters: Russia, Latvia
Pairing: very mild Russia/Latvia, if you want to see it that way
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Timeline: Late 1740ies (before the partitions but after the Treaty of Nystad)
He opened his hands, letting the warm rays filter through wide spread fingers. The sunlight was warm, friendly, warming his skin even though he knew that it was death cold outside, too cold to even feel the sun.
It was always cold in this place, even in summer; and too much snow in winter. Not that eh wasn't used to snow, they had had plenty back home; but it never had seemed so very cold there. Nowhere that he had been until now, not even at Sweden's house.
Leaning against the solid, he shivered a bit from the way the glass itself seemed to be of ice rather than the earthly materials that he knew that it was made from. Maybe it was this place... Ever since he and Estonia had come here, he had had the impression of getting colder and colder each day. Every day since Russia had come to this little cell where the Russian soldiers had put the little battered form that only decades ago had been a prosperous territory. Every day since he had taken him away to this large house in the cold, where all those happy memories of rye fields, his beloved sea and friendly, warm summer forests seemed to be so far away. Every day since Russia had first told him in this cheerful voice of his that contained so much empty sweetness, that he would be his, forever.
And although Latvia still doubted that, he couldn't but feel the impossibility of breaking free. Where too, anyway? he had never really been free to begin with...
And then he flinched and tried to turn around or step away, but he couldn't, large hands had captured his own ones, he was caught between them, strong arms and the nation that they belonged to himself.
"You're catching the sun?"
Latvia tried to steady his voice before he answered. "I-it is very warm, sir."
He couldn't see it but he felt how the larger blond was nodding. "It is. I like it. You like it, too?"
Latvia blinked. He was never sure of what Russia felt like or wanted to hear. Normally it would be fine; he got along with him about as well as he had with most of his other occupiers, save for Prussia and Lithuania, although in very different meanings. But sometimes, Russia just seemed to become a different, endlessly violent and sad person, and then there was no place to hide.
"Yes. It is always warm and nice, no matter where I am. It doesn't change and is always ...friendly." He didn't really know how to put it into words, but no matter where he went, it was still the same sun that he saw when he was at home, walking the streets of Riga.
He was surprised when Russia brought the smaller nation's hands up and pressed them against the tiny chest, his own larger hands covering them. They were really gentle and warm. "It never changes?"
"No, sir. Never." Why the question? Russia was about as old as him, he surely knew... "It looks a bit different sometimes, but it is still the same sun."
"That is good. It is warm, and friendly, and will always stay, I love it." Something pressed against his hair softly, and judging from how Russia's next worlds sounded muffled, it had been the larger nation's face.
"It is just like you, Latvia."
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters: Russia, Latvia
Pairing: very mild Russia/Latvia, if you want to see it that way
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Timeline: Late 1740ies (before the partitions but after the Treaty of Nystad)
He opened his hands, letting the warm rays filter through wide spread fingers. The sunlight was warm, friendly, warming his skin even though he knew that it was death cold outside, too cold to even feel the sun.
It was always cold in this place, even in summer; and too much snow in winter. Not that eh wasn't used to snow, they had had plenty back home; but it never had seemed so very cold there. Nowhere that he had been until now, not even at Sweden's house.
Leaning against the solid, he shivered a bit from the way the glass itself seemed to be of ice rather than the earthly materials that he knew that it was made from. Maybe it was this place... Ever since he and Estonia had come here, he had had the impression of getting colder and colder each day. Every day since Russia had come to this little cell where the Russian soldiers had put the little battered form that only decades ago had been a prosperous territory. Every day since he had taken him away to this large house in the cold, where all those happy memories of rye fields, his beloved sea and friendly, warm summer forests seemed to be so far away. Every day since Russia had first told him in this cheerful voice of his that contained so much empty sweetness, that he would be his, forever.
And although Latvia still doubted that, he couldn't but feel the impossibility of breaking free. Where too, anyway? he had never really been free to begin with...
And then he flinched and tried to turn around or step away, but he couldn't, large hands had captured his own ones, he was caught between them, strong arms and the nation that they belonged to himself.
"You're catching the sun?"
Latvia tried to steady his voice before he answered. "I-it is very warm, sir."
He couldn't see it but he felt how the larger blond was nodding. "It is. I like it. You like it, too?"
Latvia blinked. He was never sure of what Russia felt like or wanted to hear. Normally it would be fine; he got along with him about as well as he had with most of his other occupiers, save for Prussia and Lithuania, although in very different meanings. But sometimes, Russia just seemed to become a different, endlessly violent and sad person, and then there was no place to hide.
"Yes. It is always warm and nice, no matter where I am. It doesn't change and is always ...friendly." He didn't really know how to put it into words, but no matter where he went, it was still the same sun that he saw when he was at home, walking the streets of Riga.
He was surprised when Russia brought the smaller nation's hands up and pressed them against the tiny chest, his own larger hands covering them. They were really gentle and warm. "It never changes?"
"No, sir. Never." Why the question? Russia was about as old as him, he surely knew... "It looks a bit different sometimes, but it is still the same sun."
"That is good. It is warm, and friendly, and will always stay, I love it." Something pressed against his hair softly, and judging from how Russia's next worlds sounded muffled, it had been the larger nation's face.
"It is just like you, Latvia."