Was it possible for a nation to freeze to death?

Ukraine was on the verge of believing so. The wind froze her skin and nearly turned her hair into ice. Her shoes were so worn that they couldn't stem the flow of snow leaking in and biting her feet. She rubbed her arms vigorously, wishing that she had a blanket. Her forehead throbbed painfully; there was a horrible gash on it. Even the supposedly warm blood on her face was freezing cold.

How much snow could the sky hold?

Ukraine dearly wanted to just curl up in a ball in any sort of shelter—even a chicken coop, if it blocked the wind from reaching her. However, just as her mind would surrender to this tempting thought, she would suddenly picture Russia's broken body that was possibly hiding somewhere in this vast land. That alone powered her to brave through General Winter.

"Russia-chan!" she cried out, but her voice was squelched by the howling wind. She knew that yelling out could be dangerous; the Mongols may hear her and attack her. Ukraine didn't care anymore; she would do anything to be closer to her little brother.

Ukraine's feet tore through the perfect blanket of snow on the ground. Every now and then she thought she could hear Russia's small voice far away, but just as she scampered towards it, she realized it was just an animal or her imagination. Tears welled up in Ukraine's eyes, almost freezing on her cheeks as snowflakes kissed her eyelids. If those Mongols hurt Russia—if they dared to lay a finger on him—

Ukraine uttered a soft moan, sinking to her knees and ignoring the coldness seeping through her pants. Everywhere around her was a pale gray and blankness. How could she even make empty threats to the Mongols if she couldn't even find her brother? Was he somewhere sunken in the snow, shivering with painful agony from winter and his wounds, crying for his big sister?

All of a sudden, Ukraine broke into a run. She bolted through the snow like a hare, stumbling to all fours sometimes before clambering back up as fast as she fell. The wind whistled in her ears, the cold air stabbing at her skin like needles. Ukraine wasn't exactly sure where she was going. She just knew that she had to find Russia now.

As she ran, she suddenly caught sight of strange tracks in the snow. She skidded to a hasty stop, nearly falling on her back in the process. She cautiously crept closer to the tracks. They were no doubt a single set of footprints. Her immediate thought was that they belonged to a Mongol, and she automatically backed away in fear. However, there was something different about these footprints. There was no continuous, neat pattern; the feet seemed to stagger and drag their way through the heavy snow.

Ukraine cringed in fear. Were they the footprints of some monster or animal? She turned her head to where the footprints were coming from. It was impossible to tell in this icy wasteland. All she could see was white and red.

Red?

There were delicate red blooms on the snow. It was such a dark and rich red that it revolted Ukraine. They were strange; some grew solitary and alone while others crowded together like one enormous family, spreading farther and farther—

Ukraine couldn't believe how stupid she was.

Like hell they were flowers. It was blood.

Ukraine stood frozen in alarm, her eyes lingering on the violent splotches of blood that accompanied the tracks. The blood spread through the snow, reaching outwards with spider-web veins that dyed the white crystals to a violent pink. There was so much blood that Ukraine could feel the pain that caused the bloodshed just by looking at it.

Ukraine made up her mind. She followed the footsteps carefully but swiftly, her heart beating so rapidly she thought it would punch out her chest and into the snow. It may well be a dying Mongol's blood or even a trap to capture her, but if there was that chance that her younger sibling was horribly wounded, Ukraine would hand herself over to the Devil.

"Russia-chan!" she desperately shouted. "Where are you?"

Only the shrilling wind answered her. Ukraine bit her cracked lips and trudged on against the wind's direction. Her nose and ears felt like falling off and her injured forehead stung like acid.

The tracks become clumsier as Ukraine pursued them. There were times when the person must've stumbled and fell to the ground. The huge amount of red scared Ukraine to death.

"Nations can't die," she whispered to herself in a wispy voice. "They can't be killed as easily as others."

But if the Mongols had completely obliterated the Russian people and their leaders—if they took their land and replaced everything with Mongolia—

It was when Ukraine's fear reached its highest point that she saw a crumpled figure in the snow, covered in slick red. Ukraine didn't even hesitate; she darted towards the fallen person, running faster than she had ever run before. The blood spilt on the snow was like a scarlet pathway that she traveled on.

She dropped to her knees as she arrived by the person's side. He lied prostrate on the snow, his clothes soaked in blood and his skin paler than his ashy hair. Ukraine carefully rolled him onto his back and burst into tears.

Russia's clothes were ripped, revealing the horrible wounds on his skin. His neck was covered in horrifying deep cuts that would no doubt scar. The scarf that Ukraine had given him was the only thing that wasn't bloodstained. Russia was clutching it in his hands instead of wrapping it around his neck.

Ukraine tried to pull Russia close to her, but almost his entire body was covered in slick, open wounds. She cringed as her fingers grazed the raw cuts and welts. Could he feel pain at this state?

Carefully, she wrapped her arms around him. She could feel Russia's blood soak through her sleeves. Ukraine whimpered in fear; it was too hard to move him without hurting him even more. How was she supposed to help him? She wrapped her fingers around his hand. They were unbearably cold.

Before Ukraine could stop them, silky tears fell from her eyes. She bit down on her lip hard, barring the cries from escaping. Why was she so useless? Here her little brother was in desperate need of help and all she could do was kneel in the snow as if in hopeless prayer, useless. After all he had done to protect her and Belarus from Mongolia, this was how she would repay him? Her attempts were futile; the sobs escaped her mouth and poured out like an avalanche. She clutched Russia close to her, her face buried in Russia's mutilated neck.

Almost like a miracle answer her prayers, she felt Russia stir in her arms. Ukraine immediately stopped crying, her eyes wide with hopefulness. Russia blearily opened his eyes. The purple irises were glazed with pain and daze, staring at the sky as if he had never seen snow before. His eyes flickered towards Ukraine and lingered at the deep cut on her forehead. His lips moved, but his voice was lost. Ukraine beamed and kissed him on his forehead, her spirits soaring.

"Russia-chan, I was so worried about you," she murmured.

Russia lifted a hand to Ukraine's head, grazing his cool finger around the cut. Ukraine suppressed a wince of pain as his icy finger came too close to the raw wound.

"Where's your leader, Russia?" Ukraine asked him. "Where are your people? Have they escaped?"

Russia shook his head and grimaced. He wetted his dry lips nervously before finally saying anything.

"They're all killed," he croaked. "They've all died." He clenched his teeth, his eyes welling with tears. "I've been a bad person. Mongolia is punishing me for a crime I've done. I know it."

"You've done nothing wrong, Russia," Ukraine assured him, rubbing her thumb on his sharp knuckles. She held his hand for such a long time but it still remained as cold as stone. "It isn't your fault. None of this is."

"Don't…" Russia tried to say, but his voice cracked and faded. He swallowed and tried again. "Stop lying to me. You're always h-hiding things from me." His cold hands clenched Ukraine's fingers painfully. She winced; even in such a critical condition, Russia was still extremely strong.

"Russia-chan—" Ukraine squeaked. Russia immediately let go of her bony fingers. They throbbed sorely; Ukraine had to clench and unclench her fist to make her hand return to its normal state.

Russia gazed at the scarf beside him. There were speckles of blood scattered about it, but they were easily washable. He slowly took the scarf and wrapped it around Ukraine's head, wincing when his wounds became too painful. Ukraine sat still as her little brother covered her deep wound with the scarf he treasured so much.

"You'll get infected if you don't treat it," Russia whispered. "Remember?"

Ukraine swallowed and nodded, letting her tears run freely. Her arms felt sickly warm now after Russia's blood soaked through her sleeves.

"Where's Belarus?" Russia inquired.

"She's—she's safe and hiding," Ukraine told him, her voice thick. "I'll take you there, don't worry. You'll be all right."

Russia shook his head, a tremor running down his spine.

"I can't," he said in a small voice. "I can't leave my people anymore. Mongolia…he's looking for me. He's beaten me."

"Don't say that, Russia-chan," Ukraine pleaded. "I'll keep you safe, believe me!"

Russia became more and more frantic. His purple eyes kept darting around him as if he was expecting something to jump out from the snow.

"They'll hurt you even more if they find you," Russia said anxiously. "I can't let you and Bela get hurt." He tried to sit up, but stiffened with pain and slumped back into Ukraine's arms. Blood trickled from his mouth, the dark red contrasting with his frighteningly pale skin.

"I'll be okay," Russia murmured. Ukraine cringed at the sight of Russia's bloodstained teeth as he spoke. "Please, big sis. Go back to Belarus. Trust me, da?"

Ukraine pursed her lips. Russia was in absolutely no state to be left alone. There had to be a way to take him away from here, some way to protect him—

"Get up."

Ukraine froze at the sound of the rough voice above her. She swallowed, the lump in her throat suffocating her as she slowly looked up. Mongolia hovered over her, holding his bloody sword at her neck. She shivered at the sight of the Mongols that surrounded her. Even if Russia was in a state to walk, there was no possible way they could escape.

"Mongolia-san," Ukraine whispered.

"Russia is mine now," Mongolia said gravelly. "My leader has taken over his cities and government. Hand him over."

"He's hurt, Mongolia," Ukraine beseeched. "Please—just let me heal him—"

"It isn't my choice, Ukraine," Mongolia said quietly, so his soldiers could not hear. "I have orders."

He nodded to his men. Two strong soldiers broke from the circle and forcefully wrenched Russia out of Ukraine's embrace.

"No!" she cried. "Stop! Don't hurt him!" She scrambled out of the snow, tears blinding her blue eyes.

"It's okay, Big Sis," he said to her quietly, blood spilling from his lips at every word. "Let me go."

"Leave him alone! LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Ukraine shrieked. Russia looked so small and vulnerable in the soldier's arms; it shattered her heart.

Immediately, Mongolia grabbed Ukraine's arm and yanked her away from Russia. She struggled to free herself from Mongolia's iron grip, but was too weak to pull away.

"Russia-chan!" she screamed, her voice tearing her throat. "Russia-chan!" She watched in horror as the Mongols brutally bound Russia's arms and legs, ignoring the grotesque wounds that poured blood onto the snow.

"Don't resist, Ukraine," Mongolia murmured, his long fingers clutching her bony wrists tightly. "My orders were to capture Russia, but my leader wouldn't mind having you in his collection."

Ukraine wept , clawing for Russia as the Mongols dragged him away, leaving behind a trail of blood. She gasped for air, screaming inside to herself why she couldn't do a damn thing to save anyone.

Mongolia finally released Ukraine's wrists. She scampered towards Russia but her legs gave away and she crumpled to the ground. Endless days wandering in the cold without food and fending herself and Belarus from attacks had taken its toll on her beaten body.

"Why, Mongolia?" Ukraine moaned. Her tears were hot on her cheek, but they were little comfort. Her heart felt like ice. "Why do you have to do this to us?"

Mongolia remained silent. He stared down at Ukraine, whose spirit and hopes were crushed to powder. He glanced behind his shoulder towards his soldiers, who were shrinking in the distance. Their flag whipped violently in the harsh wind.

"We only exist to serve our leaders," Mongolia said coldly. "Their wishes are our command. That is our sole purpose."

Ukraine clambered back onto her unsteady feet. She felt as if her heart was pierced countless times with a spear.

"Don't try to follow us," Mongolia warned, brushing black hair from his face. "There is no point for you to anymore." He mounted his giant horse and put back on his helmet. Ukraine stood rooted to the spot, shivering not from cold but from pain.

"It is over," Mongolia said to Ukraine, his voice soft, almost regretful. "The Kievan Rus is broken."

With that, he immediately rode towards his men, leaving Ukraine in the middle of the bloody snow, absolutely alone.

Er, there is actually very little history in this one. I made a couple acknowledgements to historical facts, but they're so small that I don't think it's too important.

The Mongols invaded Russia twice, I believe. The second time was when they stayed for good. Actually, the Mongol leaders weren't all that violent and brutal. There was religious freedom for the people, and the rulers never actually lived on the Russian land. However, Russia got invaded a lot during this time, so the Mongols weren't completely a good thing either.

But I can't really deny that the Mongols crushed Russia pretty badly when they invaded.

I'm surprised it took me this long to write a Russia fanfiction, considering he is one of my favorite characters. However, I don't know a whole lot about Russian history as much as I know American history, so that might be a problem. Plus, he's already a subject of a lot of angst stories, so it is hard to come up with an original idea about him.

It's easier to draw fanart of him, but I'm not that great…

I like to think that though the country's government may choose to have war and fights, the countries themselves aren't as keen. They see each others as fellow people, so I would believe that the feelings would be closer to feelings when dealing with fellow peers. That's my take on it, at least.