1000 Themes - #382 - Hetalia - Russia x Catherine the Great
Title: I Will Protect You
Rating: G
Warnings: Nation x Person, Catherine is not Empress of Russia during this time, pre-1762, misuse of titles
Words: 1226
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairings/Characters: Russia x Catherine the Great, cameo by Empress Elizabeth and mentions of Peter III Duke of Russia
They danced often during court when she had no interest in all the others. After all, her focus lay solely in obtaining his crown, ruling him and his people, expanding her political prowess beyond the snowy boundaries she was brought to as a young teenager, so it wasn't all too odd. It wasn't as if Peter cared, not really, he preferred to flaunt around talking about toy soldiers and babbling in French to various other women that weren't the one he was married to. Thus, they danced, saying nothing but meaning everything with each step and turn and gaze. She loved him dearly, so much she clung to him, but it was never clear how he felt for her, if he could.
“Your sisters aren't here.” Catherine noted, looking Russia, Ivan Braginsky, in the eye, a task not many could bear. Russia blinked, looked to the side carelessly, and smiled with a nod.
“No, they're not. They probably are amusing themselves with something else.” he mused. Catherine sighed, put her head on his chest. Nothing could surprise him, nothing probably ever would. Russia was a man she admired, someone she wanted to be like, a figure who stood out among the rest. She wanted to stay with him for the rest of her life, his crest to blend with her name.
But...she knew she could never have him in the passionate way she desired him as a man. “They must be. I hope not with wooden dolls of Prussian soldiers.” she spat in quick French, eyes darting to her...unpleasant husband, to put it nicely.
Russia laughed softly, as he always did. “I would forbid them from ever doing so if you wished, Catherine. Prussia and his king are annoying, to say the very least.” he said, spinning Catherine before pulling her back, close to his body, his warmth. Catherine sighed. She wished she could have met Prussia; she, after all, was a minor German princess way back when. It didn't seem fair.
“If only I had the power to do so, my dear Russia.” she murmured, desperately not wanting to leave him. Despite her headstrong determination, she often found herself giving in to her girlish desires to have a stable partner she could cling to when she felt alone. Peter was nothing like that. Russia...Russia would always be with her, and her with him. Russia would obey her, but also talk to her intelligently. Russia was everything she wanted, and his crown fell nothing short of that desire.
Russia parted from her, taking her by the hand to lead her toward Elizabeth, Empress of Russia. He bowed. “Elizabeth, my Empress, Catherine is tired from all the dancing we've done. May I escort her to her room?” he asked kindly, holding Catherine's hand carefully while matching Elizabeth's stern gaze with an assuring one.
Elizabeth hummed and nodded. She favored Catherine over her own nephew. “But of course. I presume you know where her chamber is?”
“Yes.”
“Then you may. Catherine, do feel better. Russia, you are to return immediately after escorting her.”
Catherine blinked, but recovered quickly. She curtsied and smiled. “Thank you, your Majesty.” Russia bowed again, needing, in his mind, not to thank his ruler again.
And together Russia and Catherine left court, left the nobles conversing in French, and made their way to Catherine's room, where they plopped on the bed and spoke in Russian and talked of politics and Voltaire's latest publication.
“Oh, my dearest Russia, can't we spend everyday like this? Just talking about this and that with no hesitation or pretending?” Catherine pleaded, thin hands grabbing onto the cloth of Russia's coat. Russia smiled that ever-there smile she was so fond of.
“No, I'm afraid not. I'm a nation, after all, it's impossible to do such a thing.”
Catherine frowned. “Even when I obtain title as Empress?”
“Even then. But what makes you so sure you will rule me one day?”
“Because I know I will. I'll do whatever it takes to protect you. I'm no longer German, I've given myself to you. I'm Russian, now, and I refuse to be anything but.”
Russia stared at her, and she stared back. They often discussed this, and their discussions over the topic never had a satisfying conclusion. “You choose to rule over a vast, lonely land of snow and pained serfs over remaining a content little princess?”
Catherine nuzzled his neck; when had the scarf fallen so loosely to where his neck was visible? “No snow is as pure and white as yours, my Russia. I will fix what horrors have been wrought upon you.”
Violet eyes clouded over slightly at the statement. “That is not a duty one can take on his or her own.”
“I will die trying. I will die in the name of Russia, for the sake of your better good.” Catherine stated, gripping his coat, her tone stern and finalizing. With every fiber of her being she meant what she said, was determined to make her dreams come true. “I refuse to let anything get in my way.”
Russia sighed, plucked her hands from his coat and stood to move away from her. Catherine blanched, curled her fingers toward him, begged with her eyes for him not to leave. Was she too forceful? Were those the wrong things to say? It was difficult to tell with Russia, he was much harder to read than everyone else; it made her role as an actress very difficult.
“We'll talk about this later, Little Mother. I promised Elizabeth I would return to court.”
Catherine felt heartbroken rather suddenly. She knew he had to leave, and that he wasn't going very far, but it was one of those times when she needed a conclusion to the conversation. Russia saw it in her eyes, saw her desperation for all it was, and kneeled before her. Her heart skipped a beat.
Russia took her hand and kissed it, his lips chap with cold. “I will have information for you next time we are able to be alone. Don't fret, Catherine. You look upset when you do...” he assured her. He turned his violet gaze to hers, saw the tears, and made to wipe them away. Catherine captured his large hand with both of her own, and held it to her cheek.
“You are the most important thing to me, Russia. The very most...I will protect you, always.”
He gazed at her, watched the way she clutched his hand, and straightened himself up until he was hovering over her, his free hand placed on the bed. Catherine looked up at him, her cheeks reddening. “Thank you, Little Mother.” Russia thanked with a smile, followed with a tentative kiss. His cold lips melted Catherine from the inside, left her wanting more as he quickly departed from her company soon after the simple meet of lips.
As he exited the room, she, again, promised silently to protect him, and that she would always do just that. She loved her country, fell in love with the man that bore the burden of countless people and countless cruelties. She would become Catherine the Great, ruling in the name of the better good of Russia.
Rating: G
Warnings: Nation x Person, Catherine is not Empress of Russia during this time, pre-1762, misuse of titles
Words: 1226
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairings/Characters: Russia x Catherine the Great, cameo by Empress Elizabeth and mentions of Peter III Duke of Russia
They danced often during court when she had no interest in all the others. After all, her focus lay solely in obtaining his crown, ruling him and his people, expanding her political prowess beyond the snowy boundaries she was brought to as a young teenager, so it wasn't all too odd. It wasn't as if Peter cared, not really, he preferred to flaunt around talking about toy soldiers and babbling in French to various other women that weren't the one he was married to. Thus, they danced, saying nothing but meaning everything with each step and turn and gaze. She loved him dearly, so much she clung to him, but it was never clear how he felt for her, if he could.
“Your sisters aren't here.” Catherine noted, looking Russia, Ivan Braginsky, in the eye, a task not many could bear. Russia blinked, looked to the side carelessly, and smiled with a nod.
“No, they're not. They probably are amusing themselves with something else.” he mused. Catherine sighed, put her head on his chest. Nothing could surprise him, nothing probably ever would. Russia was a man she admired, someone she wanted to be like, a figure who stood out among the rest. She wanted to stay with him for the rest of her life, his crest to blend with her name.
But...she knew she could never have him in the passionate way she desired him as a man. “They must be. I hope not with wooden dolls of Prussian soldiers.” she spat in quick French, eyes darting to her...unpleasant husband, to put it nicely.
Russia laughed softly, as he always did. “I would forbid them from ever doing so if you wished, Catherine. Prussia and his king are annoying, to say the very least.” he said, spinning Catherine before pulling her back, close to his body, his warmth. Catherine sighed. She wished she could have met Prussia; she, after all, was a minor German princess way back when. It didn't seem fair.
“If only I had the power to do so, my dear Russia.” she murmured, desperately not wanting to leave him. Despite her headstrong determination, she often found herself giving in to her girlish desires to have a stable partner she could cling to when she felt alone. Peter was nothing like that. Russia...Russia would always be with her, and her with him. Russia would obey her, but also talk to her intelligently. Russia was everything she wanted, and his crown fell nothing short of that desire.
Russia parted from her, taking her by the hand to lead her toward Elizabeth, Empress of Russia. He bowed. “Elizabeth, my Empress, Catherine is tired from all the dancing we've done. May I escort her to her room?” he asked kindly, holding Catherine's hand carefully while matching Elizabeth's stern gaze with an assuring one.
Elizabeth hummed and nodded. She favored Catherine over her own nephew. “But of course. I presume you know where her chamber is?”
“Yes.”
“Then you may. Catherine, do feel better. Russia, you are to return immediately after escorting her.”
Catherine blinked, but recovered quickly. She curtsied and smiled. “Thank you, your Majesty.” Russia bowed again, needing, in his mind, not to thank his ruler again.
And together Russia and Catherine left court, left the nobles conversing in French, and made their way to Catherine's room, where they plopped on the bed and spoke in Russian and talked of politics and Voltaire's latest publication.
“Oh, my dearest Russia, can't we spend everyday like this? Just talking about this and that with no hesitation or pretending?” Catherine pleaded, thin hands grabbing onto the cloth of Russia's coat. Russia smiled that ever-there smile she was so fond of.
“No, I'm afraid not. I'm a nation, after all, it's impossible to do such a thing.”
Catherine frowned. “Even when I obtain title as Empress?”
“Even then. But what makes you so sure you will rule me one day?”
“Because I know I will. I'll do whatever it takes to protect you. I'm no longer German, I've given myself to you. I'm Russian, now, and I refuse to be anything but.”
Russia stared at her, and she stared back. They often discussed this, and their discussions over the topic never had a satisfying conclusion. “You choose to rule over a vast, lonely land of snow and pained serfs over remaining a content little princess?”
Catherine nuzzled his neck; when had the scarf fallen so loosely to where his neck was visible? “No snow is as pure and white as yours, my Russia. I will fix what horrors have been wrought upon you.”
Violet eyes clouded over slightly at the statement. “That is not a duty one can take on his or her own.”
“I will die trying. I will die in the name of Russia, for the sake of your better good.” Catherine stated, gripping his coat, her tone stern and finalizing. With every fiber of her being she meant what she said, was determined to make her dreams come true. “I refuse to let anything get in my way.”
Russia sighed, plucked her hands from his coat and stood to move away from her. Catherine blanched, curled her fingers toward him, begged with her eyes for him not to leave. Was she too forceful? Were those the wrong things to say? It was difficult to tell with Russia, he was much harder to read than everyone else; it made her role as an actress very difficult.
“We'll talk about this later, Little Mother. I promised Elizabeth I would return to court.”
Catherine felt heartbroken rather suddenly. She knew he had to leave, and that he wasn't going very far, but it was one of those times when she needed a conclusion to the conversation. Russia saw it in her eyes, saw her desperation for all it was, and kneeled before her. Her heart skipped a beat.
Russia took her hand and kissed it, his lips chap with cold. “I will have information for you next time we are able to be alone. Don't fret, Catherine. You look upset when you do...” he assured her. He turned his violet gaze to hers, saw the tears, and made to wipe them away. Catherine captured his large hand with both of her own, and held it to her cheek.
“You are the most important thing to me, Russia. The very most...I will protect you, always.”
He gazed at her, watched the way she clutched his hand, and straightened himself up until he was hovering over her, his free hand placed on the bed. Catherine looked up at him, her cheeks reddening. “Thank you, Little Mother.” Russia thanked with a smile, followed with a tentative kiss. His cold lips melted Catherine from the inside, left her wanting more as he quickly departed from her company soon after the simple meet of lips.
As he exited the room, she, again, promised silently to protect him, and that she would always do just that. She loved her country, fell in love with the man that bore the burden of countless people and countless cruelties. She would become Catherine the Great, ruling in the name of the better good of Russia.