Busby and Russia - The Cursed Chair

A long long time ago, when Russia was still young and untouched by the insanity that plagued him since the bloody revolution, there was a poor woodcarver called Thomas Busby and his daughter, a girl named Cherish. Thomas had named her Cherish because he was especially skilled at creating wooden chairs, and he cherished both Cherish and chairs. The two lived happily and simply together in a small cabin in the woods, and everyday Thomas would leave in the morning to find wood he could use. Although they were happy, Cherish and her father were poor, and barely managed to put food on the table. When times were harsh, Cherish was forced to go work at the town bar as a serving girl.

One time, in particularly hard winter, Cherish and her father were pushed to the limits of their small income, and Cherish, being the kind, beautiful, and thoughtful daughter she was, decided that she would have to work at the town bar, Kol's Hut. That morning, Cherish waved goodbye to her father and left for work with a resolute mind. Upon arriving at her new workplace, she was handed a worn apron, a towel, and a bucket and ordered to clean the place thoroughly. She went about this task with a determination to prove her worth, and soon the small bar was sparkling. That night, Cherish went about the rowdy bar and distributed vodka and food. She happily thought about the money she would earn doing this, and didn't notice the tall, handsome stranger walk in...

Russia had decided to get some vodka into his system after a long day of discussion with the local nobles. The talking had worn him down, and the handsome Russian had decided that vodka would do just the trick for his tiredness. He strolled into the small, dingy bar, wondering if the alcohol here would be any good, and bumped right into Cherish, causing the petite brunette to fall to the floor.

"Oh!" cried Cherish, as she tried to gather her wits. She rubbed her head and looked up to see who exactly had caused her fall. Cherish gasped. He was tall, with broad shoulders, snow white hair, and deep purple eyes that mystified her. Never had she seen anyone with violet eyes! And he was so handsome...

Russia on the other had, was staring at the girl he had bumped into as he offered a hand to help her up. She was short and small, with slender limbs and delicate features. She had a small nose, soft-looking chestnut hair that curled around her face, and gentle brown eyes that stared up at him.

"I'm so sorry." Russia said, as Cherish grasped his offered hand and rose up off the ground. She attempted to brush the dust off her apron and blushed, saying "Oh no, it's not your fault. I wasn't paying attention you see, and so-" Russia cut her off. "Well, I'm glad you're alright." he said, and placed the serving tray that had fallen to the floor in her hands. Cherish accepted the plate, and smiled. "Well, is there anything I can get you?" she asked him. "You seem tired." Russia smiled back at her cheerfully. "Why yes, I could certainly drink a tub of vodka right now!" he exclaimed. Cherish laughed and gestured at an empty seat at a table. "Yes sir, coming right up!" She began to walk off, but Russia quickly grabbed her hand. "Um, may I ask..." Cherish turned around to look at him and blushed. "Yes?" she asked. Russia cleared his throat. "Well, I was wondering what your name was, and if we could meet again..." Cherish flushed bright red at his words and gasped. "W-Why yes, we could m-meet again." she stuttered. "My name is... Cherish Busby."

Russia and Cherish were in love, and the young couple spent many happy hours with each other as the days passed. Soon it was spring, and Cherish began to think about telling her dad about Russia. On day, she decided it was time. "Father..." she said slowly at breakfast. "I have something to confess to you."

"What is it child?" Thomas asked. He stopped eating his muffin. "Father, I have been courted by a man named Russia. I-I love him very much." Cherish said. Thomas's mouth opened in surprise. "Cherish, truely?!" he exclaimed. Cherish blushed. "Yes Father." she said. Thomas slowly smiled. He took his daughter's hands in his own. "Child, I wish the best and give you all my blessings. Might I meet this lucky man someday?" he said. Cherish sighed with relief and happiness, and her eyes teared up. "Thank you Father, I will try to bring him here tomorrow." she said, her eyes shining with joy and happiness.

The next day, Cherish went off to meet with Russia. Her plan was to surprise him with news that her father had accepted their courtship and wanted to meet him. As she went along the path, she hummed a tune and skipped happily. Before long, she spotted Russia and ran towards him happily. "Russia, love, I have wonderful news!" she exclaimed. Russia smiled at her and hugged her. "What is it dear?" he asked. Cherish grinned. 'My father wants to meet you!" Russia spun her around and laughed. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "Well I have great news too." Cherish looked at him in puzzlement. "What is it?" Russia smiled and patted her on the head. "You remember how I love ice skating?" he said. Cherish nodded. Russia grinned and held up two pairs of ice skates. "Lets go!" he exclaimed.

 The two lovebirds laughed happily as they skated, arm-in-arm, around the frozen lake. Cherish wasn't used to ice skating, so she leaned on Russia most of the time. "Russia, this is amazing!" Cherish exclaimed happily. She snugged against his arm. The tall russian man laughed and spun her around, causing her to gasp in surprise. As they neared the edge of the lake again, Russia slowed down to a stop and pointed at a different-looking patch of ice near the edge. "Cherish, be careful not to go over there, okay? The ice is thin and you might crash through and drown in the freezing water." He said this solemnly, with a serious face. Cherish nodded, suddenly quiet. "Yes Russia, I'll be very careful." she said. However, she soon forgot Russia's warning...

Cherish was laughing happily, trying to outskate Russia. "Neh-neh, you can't catch me~!" she teased in a sing-song voice. Cherish didn't notice how close she was to the edge of the thin ice. Russia laughed along, but his chuckles died in his throat as he realized in what danger his beloved was in... CRASH! Cherish fell through the ice screaming. She thrashed about in the freezing lake water, gasping for air, her arms waving willy nilly. Russia instantly began a mad dash for Cherish. He shouted her name and stretched an arm out for her, but it was too late. Weakened by her feeble attempts to float in the freezing water, Cherish began to sink. Soon, she was gone. Only a soggy red glove, floating quietly on the surface of the lake, was left of her. Russia fished it out and hugged it to his chest, his large body racked with sobs. Tears streamed down his face as he mourned his lost lover. "No Cherish..." he whispered, "Why didn't you listen to me? If only..."

It was already nighttime when Russia finally stopped crying. He slowly got up and took off his ice skating boots, tossing them away. They were too much of a sad memory now for him to keep. Quietly, the lone russian began to walk to Cherish's house. Her father would want to know...

Russia knocked on the wooden door twice. He stood their, wondering what he could possibly say. The door opened quickly. Thomas Busby flung open the door expectantly, his face shining with happiness. Behind him, a table was set for three, with delicious-smelling dishes piled on the small wooden table. Thomas's smile died to moment he saw what Russia was holding in his hand: Cherish's glove. "Cherish..." he said quietly. "Where is she...?" Russia shook his head and a lone tear escaped from his eye. "It was an accident." he said. "I warned her, but she..." His voice choked up. "She didn't listen, and drowned." Thomas froze. He managed to croak out, "Gone? My Cherish... She's gone?" Russia nodded. The old woodcutter grabbed the glove from Russia's hand and burst into tears. "Gone! My Cherish, my daughter! Gone!" Slowly, his expression changed from stricken sorrow to burning anger. "You!" He jabbed a thin finger at Russia's chest and glared up at him. "You killed Cherish! It's all your fault!" he accused. Russia remained silent. Thomas sneered at him. "You evil bastard! If it weren't for you, my Cherish would still be alive now! Alive, and with me!" He slammed the door in Russia's face and stormed inside. Flames of hatred burned in his eyes. "You..." he whispered. "You will regret ever going near my Cherish!"

For days on end afterwards, Thomas spent day and night making a wooden chair. He poured all his anger, sorrow, and frustration into it, and with every woodchip that fell to the floor of his workshop, he cursed Russia. He didn't sleep or eat, and never left the chair. Days passed, and still Thomas labored on his chair. With his dying breath, he finished the last touch and cursed Russia. The chair that Thomas had made with all his hatred and sadness became cursed... Every man who sat in it would die a painful death, Thomas's voice ringing in their ears. However, the soul of Cherish still loved Russia, and although she couldn't break the curse, Cherish lessened it so that if Russia ever came to sit in it, the chair would break, taking the curse along with it. The chair was passed around and soon gained a reputation for evilness. Until it came to England's hands...