Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

You found him standing alone in the snow, the cold winter wind blowing his platinum blond hair out of his face, his deep purple eyes distant and cold. He was an odd one, that boy. He looked around six, but he was all alone.

You thought he was lost and, being the helpful person that you are, decided to see if you could help. You cautiously approached the boy, almost afraid you'd spook him if you moved too quickly "Excuse me?"

The boy turned to look at you, his vibrant eyes meeting yours. "Da?"

You bent down to his level, smiling kindly. "You look lost. Do you know where your mommy is?"

He looked at the ground, gripping his large scarf with his meaty little kid hands tightly. "I do not having a family. All I having is the snow."

You felt a pang of pity for the lost child. "Well, would you like to come live with me?"

He looked up at you, his eyes wide. "Really?!"

The hopeful look in his eyes almost hurt to look at, but you continued to smile. "Da!" You stood up and took his small hand in yours. "Now, let's go." The icy wind was starting to nip at your nose and you were sure the boy was as cold as you were, if not more. "I'm _. What's your name?"

For the first time since you met the lost child, he smiled, a smile to happy it was heartbreaking. "Ivan."

Ivan hungrily ate up all the hot soup you handed him. You watched him, curious as to where he came from. But, judging by the purple bruises on his face, you were sure he didn't want to talk about it.

When he was finished, you put the bowl in the kitchen and led him upstairs. You changed into your pajamas and you dressed Ivan in one of your t-shirts that went down to his knees. It had been a very long day for both of you, and you were quite ready to get some sleep.

You got in bed with Ivan, getting under the covers and wrapping the small boy in a hug. "Good night, Ivan."

He smiled, clinging to the warmth you gave him. "Good night, _."

4 Years Later...

It had been several years since that day, and Ivan was older now. Not a man yet but, in his opinion, close enough.

If there was one thing he realized over the years, it was that he really loved you. He always thought his love was brotherly, but recently it was beginning to be a bit strange. Whenever you hugged him or smiled, he felt this weird warmth in his stomach. Oh yes, it was quite confusing.

He jolted out of his thoughts when he heard the door open. You entered the room, grinning. "Hey, Ivan! There's someone I want you to meet!" You gestured to a man with blond hair and the bushiest eyebrows Ivan had ever seen. "This is Arthur Kirkland."

Arthur smiled, though Ivan didn't return it. Jealousy silently bubbled inside him. What were you talking about? You were his and his alone! This man couldn't have you, Ivan wouldn't let him!

Oblivious to the tension in the room, you said. "I'll be right back!" You ran off to the kitchen, leaving the two boys alone.

Ivan moved his hand toward his metal pipe. Before he'd run away from the devils he had to call parents, he'd taken a pipe from the house, his way of remembering what he left behind. In a way, it was kind of funny that it was also helping him protect the life he had now.

The Brit noticed what the Russian was holding and his green eyes widened. "What are you doing, Ivan?" Arthur asked, backing away slowly.

"You can't having her!" Ivan snarled, moving towards the terrified Brit, his purple eyes alight with jealous fire. "You can't have _! She belongs to Ivan!" Before Arthur could say anything, Ivan pounced, slamming the pipe down harshly on the Brit's head. Blood splattered all over the tiny Russian as Arthur hit the ground, groaning in pain. Ivan smirked, admiring his work. "And it'll always stay that way."

"I'm b-!" You stopped talking abrutly, the plate of cookies slipping from your hands as you took in the scene: Arthur, broken and bleeding on the floor, and Ivan, towering over him with a blood stained pipe in his hands. "Arthur!" You cried out, your eyes widening in horror. "I-Ivan, what have you done?!"

"He tried to taking what was mine." The Russian replied simply, his deep purple eyes piercing you like a knife.

"And I do not sharing my possesions."