This Earth Will Always Turn [Hetalia One-shots]

This Earth will always turn for us, creating memories and stories that will be passed down for years to come.

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6. Shatter Me [RussiaxReader]

A/N: This is for Reyna Veneziano!  So, I saw the music video for 'Shatter Me' by Lindsey Stirling feat. Lzzy Hale, and I really wanted to write something based off of it. So here it is! Russia is probably really OOC. I apologize for that. Other than that, though...Enjoy! 

 



        Ivan  had owned the trinket for as long as he could remember. He had found it once a long while ago, some place that had long disappeared. Something about the trinket had intrigued him, and so he kept it. 

        At least once a day, he would take out the trinket and study it. The trinket appeared, at first, to be a snow globe. There was no liquid or fake snow within the glass bubble, however, and so Ivan had figured that the trinket was a music box of sorts. He figured that out due to the fact that in the center of the glass sphere, balanced mid-pirouette, was a ballerina with her hand over her heart, her eyes glancing upwards toward the ceiling. 


     There was something beautiful about the ballerina. The way her hair cascaded downwards, a waterfall of smooth, glimmering hair; the way her eyes sparkled and glistened with what Ivan would have called tears had the figure in the snow globe-like enclosure been real. Her outfit was made of intricate white cloth with the most beautiful detail work he'd ever seen. Pearls adorned her waist. The tutu encircling her waist puffed out, like a snowflake.

     Having lived on the cold, Siberian plains for much of his life, Ivan took solace in the little, beautiful ballerina. There was something odd, however, about the ballerina. She did not dance. Whenever he wound the key on the side of the music box-like snow globe, the ballerina would slowly spin, lowering her leg from its pirouette, en pointe. Her hands would flutter above her chest, above her heart, and she would sing.

     A singing ballerina; one who never had danced but had the voice of an angel. It made Ivan feel warm on those cold, Russian nights, even if it was strange that each time he wound the trinket, the ballerina sang a different tune. It was one night, when Ivan had wound the ballerina a different way than normal, that he heard the song she sang clearly, for once. Most times it was muffled by his palm, holding the sphere underneath, but that day, he had decided to hold it a different way, and so he heard her voice clearly.

   "I seek freedom, I seek happiness. In a world of darkness, I wish for light! Please, oh please, shatter me and my prison! Shatter this place where I live! Catch me when I fall, for I am a flightless bird trapped in a cage of glimmering glass! Show me the glinting stars of the sky that I have only seen reflected in my mirrors." Ivan raised an eyebrow in surprise. 

    How strange, he thought, that a life-less ballerina should be singing about being free. He watched the ballerina closely and saw a few things that made him pale and his heart skip and beat. The ballerina blinked. Her mouth moved with the music. Her legs moved, keeping balance as she spun. Ivan frantically wound the ballerina as the music began to fade. She continued singing, her voice clear and sweet.

    "Shatter me! Make me feel alive and shatter me!" Ivan continued to watch her pleas, frozen with awe, watching the little ballerina. "Shatter me!" He continued to wind the ballerina every time the music began to fade. After winding it the fourth time, the ballerina moved from her pedestal, still en pointe, and came to the edge of the glass, close to where Ivan's face rested.

     His violet eyes glowed in the dimness of his room. She looked up at him, placing her hands gently, daintily against the glass. Her breath fogged the glass as she whispered, "Shatter me and free me, please." 

       In his shock, Ivan dropped the globe of glass. 

       He watched as the globe game crashing down to the ground. His mouth was wide open and his hands grasped at his surroundings as it shattered. The moon glinted through the window at the shards of shattered glass. Everything was still and silent for a moment. Ivan's shallow breaths were the only noise.

     Then, suddenly, a thick fog filled the room, casting a silvery haze upon everything. Ivan cried out, frightened and unable to see more than a couple inches in front of him. As suddenly as it had come, the fog left, leaving a girl in the outfit of a ballerina, en pointe, in the place where a shattered globe of glass had been. She smiled at him, her hands resting at her sides. "Thank you for freeing me. I am _________." Ivan was speechless, and that was saying something, as Ivan himself was normally the one scaring people or leaving them speechless. 

     No one knew of Ivan's soft side, of this part of him that watched a tiny, what he had thought thought to be fake, ballerina sing gently. This ballerina had brought him comfort in the face of loneliness. Seeing that he would not respond, _________ continued to speak. "I was imprisoned long ago in that glass bubble, a punishment by my cruel mother. I had a passion for the stage, for ballet and music. She refused to acknowledge what I wanted and cursed me, saying that I would be a ballerina and sing in a glass prison for the rest of my existence, as I had so desired." ________'s voice held a bitter undertone as she spoke of her mother. 

      Ivan stood and walked up to her. He was a head taller than her. In the moonlight, her pale skin shone. He reached out a hand, hesitating in touching her arm, to see if she was, indeed, real. She watched him and nodded. "I'm real," she whispered, her eyes holding his violet gaze. Her brushed his fingers against her skin and bit his lip. Her skin was warm and soft. She smiled. 

      "I am in your debt. What is your name?" Ivan stammered on his words. "M-My name i-is Ivan B-Braginsky." She nodded. "Well, Ivan. I will stay by your side and pay back my debt to you." He shook his head. "N-Nyet, that is impossible. I am a country, the personification of an land without end, at least until the people of this land end it themselves. You cannot. You will die before I do." She shrugged. "I will try to stay by your side, then. Will you let me?" A pang of the loneliness Ivan had felt in his home for so long hit him and he thought for a few moments. 

      In the darkness of his bedroom, with the moon glinting on her pale skin, her beauty magnified, the words shatter me echoing around his mind with his violet eyes wide and studying her, he had only one word to say: "Da."         

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