Ivan was a simple man who led a simple life. That's how he would explain it to anyone outside his personal bubble. Upon furthering one's analysis of Ivan's life, the results would consist of constant hunger pain and harsh poverty.
His elder sister had passed away one harsh winter morning of a strange illness. A month later, his younger sister froze to death in a blizzard. Ivan lived on his own, farming everything he could just to have a bowl of soup everyday.
He found he was good with a bow, thus began to hunt for things to sell at the local market. It was during one of these hunts he would meet the most beautiful creature he would ever lay his eyes upon: a silver swan.
The poor creature was stuck in a trap laid by another hunter, it was clearly in pain as red began to stain the last figments of snow.
"Hush now, young swan. I will let you out," Ivan's intimidating physic was enough to scare a bear away from his presence, but yet the swan stayed still as he bent down. He gently pried open the trap, freeing the poor creature.
"You there! Boy! Are you releasing my prize!" an elder man came through the thicket, waving a cane. Ivan stood up, releasing a terrifying aura. But, the old man did not back down. Ivan, realizing the elder's persistance, gently flopped the buck he had caught that afternoon.
"In exchange for the swan's freedom, I offer my buck in its place," Ivan bargained. The old man thought for a moment before nodding his head, dragging the buck by the antlers onto a sleigh.
"You've gotta deal, boy!" the man took the prize the rest of the way down the mountain while Ivan tenderly took care of the swan's injured leg. As soon as it was bandaged up, he helped the swan take flight. He watched as it happily squawked when it flew, happy to be free once again.
A few days passed and another harsh blizzard struck the mountain. Ivan had just finished making his tea when a knock came to his door. Startled, he went to the door and barely opened it a crack, still apprehensive of who would be in a raging blizzard so late in the night.
"Privet, whom may I ask knocks at my door?" Ivan looked at the figure, feeling a sense of warmth come over him.
"Please, young master of this home. Please, let me stay to be your partner," a young man was at his door, one who was just as stunning as the swan he had saved days prior. He had golden hair and sapphire eyes, with skin so supple and tan it could melt the icy glaciers that surrounded him.
He was garbed in a sarafan, a traditional dress for his nation. It was such a beautiful fabric, it seemed tough enough to keep the warmth contained but light enough that the summer's coming heat would allow the body to cool. Sadly, Ivan could not tell what the flawless cloth was.
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