Crossing Borders [Hetalia]

пятнадцать - faith in the unknown

The solution Arthur's put forward has set everyone on edge, save Valentina and Ivan themselves, the only two to see no lamentable issue with the plan.

To be fair, Valentina hasn't been in the mood for arguing, much less with Arthur of all people. She trusts him, though, wholeheartedly, explicitly, thinking him capable of no real harm when he's determined to produce a beneficial outcome.

Ivan is quite keen on the Brit's idea, for reasons nearly everyone finds apparent and rather disconcerting.

The others, of course, have had varying reactions:

"Dude, no way in hell! This just sounds whacked, man!"

"I-I'm not really sure this is the best idea, Mr. Arthur..."

"It seems somewhat risky but... it might prove favorable for us in the end, seeing as how it could end up placating Ivan..."

"Mr. Russia would probably make a terrible husband."

This last speculation in particular grated several nerves, most notably Ivan's, who set about "disciplining" the culprit (otherwise known as Raivis) straightaway and without delay. Valentina hadn't been able to muster up the strength required to gentle berate the Russian.

In any case, Arthur's suggestion has been the only viable option, as no one else has scrounged up anything remotely useful in the history books.

Countries who fade away... don't tend to make a comeback. Lost to time and worn away from memory, only the barest trace of them remains, whispered through history on exhaustible lips, until one day their name disappears altogether and the survivors are left with a hollow ache to remind of them of something they've lost yet can't quite call to mind.

(Unless you're Prussia, in which case you obnoxiously defy the given laws of the universe and tether yourself to Earth with iron cords)

No one is willing to let Valentina - let Siberia - slip through their fingers. And if that means handing the proverbial reigns over to Arthur and his ludicrous idea, then so be it.

That doesn't mean they're pleased to do so, though, by any means.

"This isn't nearly as risky as the last spell," he's saying, looking from one vexed face to the next. "It has minimal dangers, so long as Russia remains a marginally successful, healthy country."

Alfred's tone is lacking in all forms of courtesy as gripes, "But, c'mon Iggy, marriage? How the hell's that gonna solve anything?"

Arthur releases a pent-up sigh, rubbing tenderly at the bridge of his nose. His composure has been at the breaking point for the last several minutes, and only edges closer to utter destruction with each objection the American feels the need to interject with. "It's not marriage, you bloody git," he corrects, speaking now through a taut jaw and clenched teeth, "not really. It's more of a melding of life forces."

"You haven't really elaborated on that," Eduard points out. 

"It s-sounds painful," Raivis adds, though he doesn't seem as sympathetic as one might expect him to be. Toris, perched between his brothers on the couch, sends him a reproachful glance, to which he shrinks back and mumbles a half-hearted apology.

Arthur doesn't miss the exchange, though he does little to acknowledge it; the squabbles among the Baltics are not his primary concern at the moment. "True, I haven't," he says, addressing the Estonian's valid complaint. "I'll try to be as concise as possible, as we don't have a very large window of time to perform this spell before..."

The words die on his lips, though no one bothers asking for a continuation.

"Anyway, as you know, countries' lives are much more... shall we say, durable, than the average human's. Durable enough to handle the burden of keeping another country alive, long past their 'expiration date'." He pauses, as if struck by an odd thought.