Maybe in another time (Russia Hetalia x Reader)

Chapter 6

Since the day you were taken from him, Ivan's thoughts have never strayed from you. Every moment has been consumed by memories and longing, a constant ache in his heart. He yearns to visit the World Headquarters, to search for any sign of you, but his duties weigh heavily upon him. His boss has entrusted him with a crucial task—one he cannot refuse. As the embodiment of his entire country, Ivan's responsibilities are immense, and he has no choice but to adhere to his obligations and await the next World meeting.

In the midst of his sorrow, Ivan has found a small comfort. He has begun wearing the scarf you made for him. It is a tender reminder of your presence, a piece of you he can carry with him. His original scarf, still a treasured keepsake, lies neatly folded in his drawer—one of his most prized possessions.

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One week had passed since the announcement of the world meeting, and Ivan was eager to make his entrance. Bursting through the grand doors of the building, he immediately began inquiring about your whereabouts. Most people either ignored him out of fear, didn't know, or outright refused to answer. Ivan's frustration mounted with each passing minute. Why was it so difficult for anyone to provide a simple answer? The fear of trouble or losing alliances kept everyone tight-lipped.

When Ivan finally stormed into the conference room, the atmosphere was starkly different from the usual lively bustle. He heard a muffled sniffle and turned to see Feliciano quietly sobbing while Ludwig offered him comfort. Feliciano muttered, "But this has gone too far. She doesn't deserve this kind of treatment, let alone an execution—" Ludwig swiftly covered Feliciano's mouth upon noticing Ivan's intense gaze. "Execution? Harsh treatment? What's going on here?" Ivan thought to himself.

At that moment, Alfred strolled into the room and, as usual, took charge. "Alright, everyone, take your seats," he announced. Ivan's piercing gaze fixed on Alfred, who, unfazed, proceeded with his typical agenda—discussing global issues like pollution and its prevention. Then Alfred dropped a bombshell: "As you all know, a trusted friend has recently betrayed me. Therefore, I'm inviting you all to witness a public execution, an important lesson for us nations. Such behavior will not be tolerated."

Ivan's anger erupted as he slammed his hands on the desk and roared, "Execution?! (Y/N) doesn't deserve this just because they chose me!" The room buzzed with murmurs and whispers, debating Alfred's seriousness and whether his actions were justified. Natalya, amidst the crowd, struggled with a mix of jealousy and acceptance, knowing her brother's happiness was at stake. Toris, also present, spoke up, "I understand Ivan's past actions have been cruel—I was a victim myself—but (Y/N) had nothing to do with that. How is this justified?" Others voiced their agreement.

Alfred's rationale was that this drastic measure might finally open Ivan's eyes to the pain of losing someone dear. Despite the risky nature of his decision, Alfred doubted that Ivan would take drastic action. After all, a nation's duty was to follow orders, and love wasn't something that could change the course of events so drastically. For this moment, Alfred embraced his role as a sadistic enforcer, confirming his statement and leaving everyone in stunned silence. 

Ivan rose from his seat, his intentions clear as he marched toward Alfred. But before he could get far, Ludwig, representing Germany, stepped in his way. "Stop meddling! I won't let him get away with this!" Ivan growled, shoving Ludwig aside. However, Ludwig quickly moved behind Ivan, locking him in a restraining hold. "And attack Alfred in front of 190 other nations?!" Ludwig retorted, his voice steady but firm.

All eyes in the room were glued to the scene—some filled with fear, others with curiosity, waiting to see how it would unfold. Natalya, Ivan's sister, suddenly stood up, ready to defend her brother. She drew a dagger, but Toris quickly restrained her. "Please, Natalya... We can't make this any worse than it already is," he pleaded.

"Let go! Even if I despise (Y/N), I can't let this slide!" Natalya spat back, struggling against Toris's grip.

Meanwhile, Alfred burst into laughter, finding the scene far too amusing, though this time the chaos carried a far more sinister edge. Ivan, glaring at Alfred, demanded coldly, "Why do you laugh?"

Alfred's mocking grin widened, but he remained silent. Frustrated, Ivan yelled, still struggling against Ludwig's hold, "Why do you laugh!? You dare call me a monster, but what makes you any different?!"

"The difference, Ivan, is that I'm the hero of this story, and you're not," Alfred replied, his voice dripping with icy indifference. "Love is both power and vulnerability. If (Y/N) sees your actions as justified and loves you for it, they'll become just like you. That's the power love holds—look at how much it's made you vulnerable. Why do you care so much for a mortal?"

Alfred's words stung, but they held a bitter truth. Ivan loved you because you accepted him for who he was. Yet, he couldn't stand by while you faced execution. As Ivan struggled in Ludwig's grasp, Alfred approached him and whispered, "Dude... don't you see? I'm saving them. Death is their freedom from a monster like you. If I let them live, they'd only find a way back to you. Humans crave power, and you'd be their weapon. Who's to say they wouldn't become a clone of you? Go on, hit me. It'll only prove my point. Tsk tsk tsk, guys like you shouldn't get caught up in love. What about your responsibilities, huh? I'm technically saving you too." 

Ivan's fury burst forth like a violent storm as he tore himself free from Ludwig's grasp. "You bastard!" he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the room. Berwald, representing Sweden, stepped forward but found himself struggling to restrain the enraged Russian. With great effort, Ludwig and Berwald managed to drag Ivan out of the World Headquarters, barely able to contain his seething wrath.

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On a rainy afternoon at the World Headquarters, the skies were gray and heavy with gloom, yet the Nations still gathered. Among them, Feliciano sobbed quietly, refusing to witness what was about to unfold. The scene had an air of old-world solemnity. You sat on a raised platform, your eyes vacant, devoid of the light they once held—some might say they looked soulless. Though your body bore no visible wounds, the mental torment of days spent isolated from the world had shattered your spirit. Even so, you felt no regret; you'd seen this moment coming since the day you first stepped foot in Ivan's home.

You lifted your head, scanning the crowd for a familiar face, only to realize that Ivan was absent. A small part of you was relieved—at least he wouldn't have to witness your execution. Alfred's words drifted to your ears, muffled and distant, but you caught the essence: he was thanking everyone for attending. The sound of a sword being drawn—likely by Honda Kiku, the man representing Japan—pierced the tense atmosphere.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted from the distance. Ivan was pushing through the crowd, desperately trying to reach you, his face a mask of anguish. Despite the relentless rain, he was determined to save you, but you knew it was too late. The realization broke your heart. You didn't want to cry—not anymore. You were ready for this battle to end.

Ivan finally reached the platform, locking eyes with you. You managed a small, sad smile just before a sharp sting consumed you, and everything went black. Your blood splattered across Ivan's face, his breath hitched, his complexion turned ghostly pale, and his anguished screams echoed through the crowd. He climbed onto the platform, cradling your limp body in his arms. His coat and the scarf you'd made for him were soaked in your blood. Trembling, he muttered, "О Боже, зачем? Ты этого не заслужил! (Oh God, why? You didn't deserve this)."

As Ivan cradles you in his arms, memories of the past surge through his mind like a torrent. He remembers your smile, your laughter, the fearless way you always approached him. The night of your last kiss comes rushing back—the taste of your lips, the intensity of that desperate, passionate embrace. Grief and despair swell within him, tears brimming in his eyes as he gazes down at you. Ivan's gaze lifted to meet Alfred's, and as expected, Alfred's expression remained cold, showing no trace of regret.

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A/N: I said 190 because they'd be watching while the other three talked. Again, I apologize if this chapter appears questionable. Also, I do not hate Alfred; I think he is funny and cool (apologies to the Americans, of course, because Alfred in this chapter sounded like some sadist). Lastly, sorry if the Russian translation is incorrect; I used the almighty Google Translate.