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Frozen Shadow	By : FlayraDowitcher Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 1788 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
***Warnings: Uncomfortable scenes, animal skinning, language
***Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic
Chapter 2
Arthur had stayed awake for as long as the medicine would let him in fear of the large Russian attempting something diabolical.
Ivan appeared to have fallen asleep after he said 'night', snoring softly and taking on the appearance of a sweet cherub. Arthur had taken a moment to stare at the round chubby face and big nose of the slumbering man. Ivan's hair looked silver in the dark, but if the man stepped out into the sun, it would probably be a light blonde. He looked normal enough, but appearances can be deceiving. The man almost strangled him today with one hand and if he wanted he could snap his neck. Arthur had to be wary of a man who spent all his time alone in a secluded spot. Isolation can make someone go mad; they hear things, or make up imaginary people, or can become obsessed with a person. And what if that person was to be him? Arthur cringed; suddenly rethinking his business plans of making Ivan his Russian moneymaker. Once he turned away from Ivan's face, he looked up at the ceiling where the bones and herbs still hung, their shadows dancing on the surface from the still raging fire in the hearth. Arthur could tell by now that they were simply animal bones and not human. He knew that animal bones could be used to make many things from tools to medicines, which is probably why Ivan had so many. Living in the woods like this the mountain man probably used all parts of the animal. He hoped Ivan didn't have any bloated and dried animal stomachs hidden anywhere. Arthur had heard the Indians used bloated stomachs and livers as pouches.
'Gross.' He said to himself, thinking of his leather wallets and alligator skin briefcase. 'I want to go home.' He whined. 'I don't want to stay here with some Russian rapist who gets off on killing things!' However, his sub conscience reminded him that he couldn't judge Ivan like that just yet since he really didn't know the man. Ivan lived off of the land and survived by his wilderness skills. They may seem stupid and barbaric to him, but to Ivan, they were his life. 'Fuck my life.' Arthur rolled over to give Ivan his back once again. His brain couldn't think anymore now that the medicine had fully taken over. The moment he closed his eyes he was dead asleep.
When he woke up it was daylight and the spot beside him was empty. Arthur looked up at the window to see that it was light out, but wasn't sure what time of day. Ivan didn't have a clock. Oh how he longed to hear the chiming of his grandfather clock! But where was Ivan? Arthur slowly sat up, carefully rubbing his wounded head and looked around the cabin. It was vacant of Ivan. Arthur saw that there was a steaming bowl of something on the table and a cup, which was probably for him. His stomach growled and ached with hunger. Could he walk? Arthur threw the blankets off and placed his socked feet on the hard wood, testing the strength in his ankles. Using the bedpost as a guide, he slowly stood up on trembling legs. A wave of dizziness came over him from the head wound, but Arthur used both hands on the post to hold himself up. Waiting for the dizziness to stop, Arthur made sure his legs could support his weight before slowly making his way over to the table. Once there, he sat down in front of the bowl, looking down at its contents. It was oatmeal. In the cup was simple water. Next to the bowl was a jar of honey and Arthur eagerly dribbled some of it into the oatmeal. He could barely wait for it to cool before shoving it down with vigor, his stomach singing in praise as it was filled with normal food and then downing the water. Arthur pouted when the bowl was empty, wondering if there was more. Before he could get up, however, he found a small note written on brittle paper yellow with age.
'Hunting. Bee bak soone.' –Ivan
"Hunting. Be back soon. Ivan." Arthur read it correctly. "He's obviously illiterate. Great." At least he knew where the man was now. But how long had he been gone? It couldn't have been long since the oatmeal was still warm. "Well, no use sitting here with nothing more to eat." Arthur spoke out loud to himself. He stood up carefully, wobbled over to the bed and climbed back under the covers. His head was starting to hurt again and his shoulder was aching. Now that his belly was full and warm, Arthur closed his eyes and fell back into a deep sleep.
When he awoke again it was to the sound of heavy chopping and a strange, peculiar smell. His nose sniffed the air before opening his eyes to search the room. There in the center of the room, at the table, stood Ivan wearing a leather apron with a huge carving knife. On the table was a carcass of some animal, yet the surface was covered with some sort of cloth or tarp. Arthur sat up to watch him in silence, noting how Ivan was not wearing gloves and his arms were covered in blood. Arthur's eyebrows twitched with each hack and chop, watching as one leg was removed; a hoofed leg, probably a small deer. Then came the other three legs, each one dropped into a large wooden bucket. Then Ivan put down the carving knife and picked up a smaller one, which he used to begin slicing open the belly. Arthur felt faint as he watched the raw organs fall into the bucket, hearing a liquidity 'plop' each time. Ivan's face turned to meet his and the man smiled happily.
"Oh, you're awake! You've been asleep for a while! It's already night."
"Is it?" Arthur glanced out the window. Ivan was right.
"That's why I'm doing this in here. Hunting took a bit longer than I thought it would. I already drained it of the blood."
Arthur sneered. "Oh good."
"Does this bother you?" Ivan asked, holding up the animal's heart along with the knife. It was an innocent question on his part.
"Actually, yes, Ivan. It does bother me. Why aren't you doing that outside?"
Ivan smiled. "It's dark. I might lose an arm or a finger! Silly Englishman!"
Arthur covered his mouth for a moment to swallow the bile in his throat.
"It's a little unnerving to watch, I know. Just roll over and close your eyes while I finish. How do you think that meat gets on your plate back in the city? Someone has to slice up the animal and separate the meat from the organs."
Arthur laid down and turned away from the scene. "That doesn't mean I want to see it."
"But this is real."
"I don't want to see it, alright?" He hissed. "It's disgusting! The fact that you can even do it with a straight face is disgusting. God, the smell is awful!" he felt sick to his stomach again.
"This is how I live. I'm sorry I don't live in a nice house with servants."
Arthur covered his head with the pillow to escape the slicing sounds. He remained hidden until the pillow was removed some time later. He looked up into violet eyes filled with, sadness? Annoyance? "What do you want? You're covered in blood and smell of guts." He moved away from the man.
"My hands are clean now." Ivan showed him. "I washed them. I always do after I'm done with an animal. I will change now so you don't have to see me like this."
"Yes, please do." Arthur noticed how Ivan was staring intently at him and he narrowed his eyes at the mountain man. "Why are you looking at me? Stop it! You reek!"
"…You're beautiful."
Arthur was dumbstruck. Stunned. Shocked and ultimately disgusted. He lifted his lip in displeasure, moving further away from Ivan so that his back was now up against the wall. He pulled the bed blankets up around him as well. "What did you say to me?"
Ivan stared at him again. "You're beautiful. You're like a lynx."
"A what?"
"A lynx." Ivan smiled and knelt on the floor in front of the bed. "It's a mountain cat."
Arthur shook his head. "Yes, I know what a lynx is! What kind of nonsense are you talking about?"
"The way your green eyes stalk me…the attitude…even the way you glare at me; the way you move, catlike. Pretty to look at, but dangerous if provoked or cornered. A lynx." Ivan chuckled. "My lynx."
Green eyes widened. "I am not your 'lynx'! And do not call me beautiful! Men are not beautiful; men are handsome. Women are beautiful!"
Ivan nodded. "Women are beautiful, but I think you are beautiful too. I don't live by your gentlemanly rules, Arthur. I will call you whatever I want. If I want to say you're beautiful, then I will."
Arthur stared at Ivan's genuinely serene face, knowing, somehow, that the man meant every word. Arthur liked men even though he was always surrounded by women. The women only wanted him for his fortune, but with men it was different. There was one man Arthur took a liking to. A cowboy named Alfred F. Jones; the 'F' stood for 'freedom'. The young man loved him, Arthur had no doubt about that; but Alfred loved the open range more. While traveling to Montana he had stayed on a large ranch for a few months, learning about the ways of the American cowboy. It was there that he met Alfred, a young cowboy with the most cattle roped and the fastest shooter in the town. Unlike Ivan, Alfred was usually covered in only dirt and it could easily be washed away at the end of the day. Alfred allowed him to rub lotion on his body before they became intimate. Arthur wanted Alfred to come with him, but the cowboy needed the open range, freedom and adventure. The man rode off one day, or so he had heard some time later by telegram. The telegram said that Alfred wanted more adventure and rode off with two more cowboys to explore Indian territory and discover new routes. Arthur had thrown the telegram in the fire and brooded for days. He knew full well that he would never see Alfred again.
It had been six years since he had last been with a man and that man had been Alfred. Now here was Ivan, a bulky and bloody Russian mountain man staring at him with a strange expression. This man thought he was beautiful and Arthur could tell that he was the closest 'lay' for Ivan. The man lived here all alone, and rarely visited the city. No prostitute would sleep with someone like him, not with all the dapper men walking around the city with heavy purses. He would be easy conquest for Ivan, wounded and broken on this bed. He wouldn't want Ivan touching him intimately at all. The man was large and filthy, smelling of blood and earth. And the way Ivan was staring at him suggested that the man had gone without for a very long time. Plus, the man is comparing him to a lynx; that means Ivan has been watching the way he moves and studying him closely. It was unnerving.
"Please, Ivan, just…get that thing out of here. I don't like to see it."
Ivan got up and went over to the animal, but instead of moving it, he cut off the tail. Drying the end quickly, he smiled as he brought it over to Arthur. "Here, you may keep the tail."
Arthur looked at the severed deer tail and then smacked it out of Ivan's hand. "What makes you think I would want THAT? It's disgusting! Don't bring me any more bits of animal! I don't want their tails or feet or fur! It's disgusting!"
Ivan looked at the deer tail on the floor and flashed Arthur a hurt expression. "I'm sorry. I won't give you these things then." He took the tail and tossed it into the fire. Obediently, Ivan moved everything outside to the porch: table, deer, knives and lantern. He had dressed in all his furs before going out, leaving Arthur alone in the cabin.
Arthur crossed his arms with a heavy sigh, resting his head against the wall. He could still hear the chopping and the hacking through the window, so he turned and pushed the curtains aside to see. Ivan was only on the porch, in the cold, with one lantern to work by. Arthur frowned, feeling bad for rudely insulting the man who was only doing what was natural to him. But Arthur wouldn't accept that deer tail or anything bloody that the man would bring to him. He would have to remind Ivan of that again for the man, to him anyway, appeared to be a little 'dim'. What would he expect from someone living alone in the woods? So Arthur continued to watch Ivan through the window until the pain in his head started up again. He moaned in pain and laid back down, gritting his teeth as it seemed to suddenly intensify. Arthur let out a cry, for the pain was starting to become unbearable.
"IVAN!" Arthur hollered for him, banging his fist on the cabin wall. "IVAN! IVAN!"
The door swung open and the fur clad Russian hurried to his bedside. "What's wrong?"
"My head! It's killing me! Help! Do something!"
Ivan acted fast, taking out a sack from a trunk and running outside. He scooped up some snow, tied the string tight around the top, and rushed back inside. He went to the bed and placed the sack of snow onto Arthur's wound, moving the blonde's hand to hold it. "Keep it there. I will make you more tea!"
"Ivan…" he whined "make it stop!"
Ivan already had the kettle water boiling, so he quickly poured a cup of tea and sprinkled in the medicine. Going back over to Arthur, he helped the man sit up and took over holding the sack while the blonde drank. Ivan should have just left this man in the snow where he had found him. The Englishman was ungrateful and rude to the one who saved him. Ivan was enjoying Arthur's company here and he wished the Englishman felt the same. He had a feeling that Arthur was still too high strung from his life as a rich industrialist to understand his way of living. The situation of his position did not fully sink in yet. And he was beautiful. The eyebrows were a little much, but Ivan was able to look past that. Arthur's eyes were a stunning shade of green and his hair was like the sun while his body was lithe and flexible. Just like the lynx he saw while out hunting today. The way the feline stalked him; the way it focused dilated green eyes on his form; the way it roamed and stretched; all resembled the Englishman right here on his bed. But soon Arthur would come to respect and understand his way of mountain living. This was all new to the blonde and he was still recovering from a manhunt wound. Once Arthur was able to walk about, then perhaps he would be more accepting and grateful to be here. Arthur couldn't go back to the city, or he would be hanged. His only safe place was here, with him.
And there was lust, oh yes. Rarely did Ivan ever share a bed with another, man or woman. Before his father left they had both went to a brothel where he was to 'become a man'. He was put with a woman old enough to be his mother who showed him so many things that he would never forget. And he had enjoyed it; yet he only went back once, a year later and slept with a younger woman. Only once was he with a man and that wasn't sex but simple oral. It had been enough to please him and Ivan paid the man a little more than necessary for his services. But after his sisters and father were gone and his mother dead, Ivan lost all desire to visit the whorehouse. There never seemed to be enough hours in the day for him to enjoy the creatures of the night. Since he was all alone, his work had tripled and he couldn't be bothered to travel all the way to the city for sex. Yet now there was a man in his bed; a wounded, helpless man with a mouth full of venom and a look that could melt ice. Oh what he wouldn't give to dominant this man. To dress in all his furs, flip the blonde over onto his hands and knees and fuck him the animal way. Ivan smirked at the thought of dominating Arthur in a manner that would disgust him just to prove a point. Arthur would learn that there was nothing wrong with being a mountain dweller, wearing furs, hunting animals and chopping wood. It would just take some…getting used to.
"I'm doing better." Arthur finally spoke. "Thank you."
"Finish your tea, please." Ivan politely insisted.
Arthur sipped the rest of the tea, drinking down the bits of herbs at the very bottom. He shoved the cup in Ivan's hand and pushed away the other holding the ice sack. "I'm fine now. Go back to…whatever it was you were doing."
Ivan frowned, but did as he was told. He got up from the bed, leaving Arthur to himself and returned the porch. He smelled the winter air, letting out a deep sigh before returning to the carcass. It was hard to cut the meat in the dark with such little light, but he managed to do it. Ivan knew he had to work quick or else the wolves would smell the fresh meat. Once everything was cut properly, he wrapped it up in cloth and twine, placed it in a large tin box and stored it in the shed along with what remained of the body. He would have to wait until tomorrow in the daylight to finish with the deer. The cold air and tin would help to keep it fresh. He would salt some of it tomorrow. Locking the shed with a chain and a latch, Ivan walked back into the warmth of his cabin, stomping the snow off of his boots. He removed all of his furs and looked towards the bed where Arthur lay, asleep.
He went to his water pitcher and basin, where he washed the blood off of his hands. With a few more logs tossed into the fire, Ivan locked the door and closed the curtains. Bed was calling him, but the blonde beneath the covers was not. Still, Ivan removed only his pants, keeping his shirt on and climbed into bed. Arthur was snoring loud and deep in his drug-induced sleep. Ivan smiled and wanted to use Arthur's unconscious state to his advantage. Scooching closer, he wrapped his arm around Arthur's waist and pulled the man against his body. He spooned himself against Arthur's back, burying his nose in the blonde stringy hair and drinking in the warmth that was another person. Arthur's body fit perfectly against his own, and the man really was much smaller than him. Of course, Arthur was a gentleman; he paid big bulky men like Ivan to do all the work for him while he paid them little money and raked in all the benefits. A man like Arthur had business management skills and book smarts, yet Ivan knew if he handed the man two rocks and a handful of dried grass, he wouldn't know what to do with it. Yet these little qualities about Arthur made him charming. The Englishman was crude, wild, venomous and liked to yell. But just like the lynx in the woods, the wild animal can be tamed. Ivan's tamed wild animals before, everything from a lynx to a bobcat and even a wild boar. He would be able to tame the wild Englishman that was Arthur Kirkland.
Satisfied with his plan, Ivan snuggled Arthur's body closer to his and sighed happily. After many, many years, it was nice to fall asleep with someone so close to him like this. He didn't feel lonely.
/
'Mmm…it's warm.' Arthur said to himself as he slowly arose from his deep sleep. His eyes peeked open slowly to find the room was still dark, which only meant it was still the evening. As he tried to shift his body, he realized that there was something wrapped around his waist. An arm? Arthur immediately tensed up, realizing what, or rather WHO, it was. 'IVAN!' It hurt to turn his head, so instead he had to spin his whole body while still trapped in Ivan's hold. As he stared into the man's sleeping face, he suddenly felt like screaming. Images of Ivan's hands and forearms covered in deer blood threatened to make the scream come out, and it did.
Ivan jerked awake, letting go of Arthur and sitting up quickly, prepared to fight.
"Get away from me!" Arthur shouted.
"Arthur? What's wrong? Why did you scream?"
"You're in bed with me!"
"But this is my bed. We share it, remember?"
Arthur was red with fury. "No! Start sleeping on the floor! You smell like shit and blood and…and whatever else a mountain dweller smells like!"
Ivan pouted a bit. "I don't think you smell…"
Arthur growled. "I don't smell!" In truth, he did smell, but not as much as Ivan. "Your hands were wrist deep in a deer's belly and you decide to touch me with it? No! Get out of this bed!"
"Why must you yell?"
"I yell because you're not doing what I say! Go sleep somewhere else! You cannot sleep with me smelling like a mountain goat! I will not have it!"
Ivan just stared at him, dumbfounded. Why was Arthur so angry at him? He didn't do anything wrong. "Arthur, I don't want to be mean to you, but this is my bed and my house."
"Fine then! I shall sleep on the floor! Better yet, I will sleep in the chair!" He climbed over Ivan's body, steadied himself on the floor and proceeded to walk to the chair. However, a wave of nausea and dizziness washed over him, making him stumble to the floor. He let out a cry as his body hit the hard wood and then the bile in his throat spewed forth. It wasn't a lot, but he had lost his meal. His stomach heaved a few more times, but the remains were only saliva and froth. 'Pitiful.' Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. 'I can't even walk to a fucking chair!' Arthur felt the vibration of Ivan walking over to him through the floorboards and he stiffened again.
"Now look at what you've done. You got yourself all worked up over nothing."
"I can handle myself!" Arthur hissed.
Ivan just rolled his eyes and moved Arthur into an easier position so he could be lifted.
Arthur turned red with embarrassment and fury as he was scooped up like some damsel in a fairytale. Only this wasn't Prince Alfred carrying him off into the sunset, this was the ogre Ivan carrying him away to his lair. "Put me down right now you big lummox! NOW!"
Ivan simply placed him on the bed and then the man turned away. Arthur watched him in silence, seeing him wipe up the vomit with a cloth as best he could and then tossing the whole thing into the fire. The Russian took a scrub brush from the shelf, dipped it in the basin of water and set to scrubbing the wood of the remaining spots. Now he had felt bad about yelling at Ivan. The man was helping to take care of him. But now there was a pain in his lower stomach and he rubbed at the spot trying to ease it. He paled when he realized what was ailing him.
"I need use the water closet."
Ivan looked up from his scrubbing. "It's under the bed."
Arthur's eyes widened. He had to be joking? Slowly, Arthur lowered his head to peer under the bed, finding a tall chamber pot. He slowly pulled himself back up and wanted to weep openly at his misfortune. "I can't…not in a pot."
Ivan stood up from the floor. "Would you rather go out in the snow and dig a cat hole?"
"Nooo…" he whined in defeat. His stomach was starting to cramp and he knew that if he didn't use the chamber pot, Ivan would be cleaning up more than vomit.
After his second round of self-humiliation, Arthur was feeling anything but better. Quite the opposite. He recognized the signs of a fever, he was prone to them. He always had been since he was a child; fever and ear aches. Although this fever was most likely brought on by his wounds. And he was cold. Arthur buried himself under the blankets, but it still was not enough to heat his chilled body. He shivered between hot and cold flashes. His face felt like it was on fire and the throbbing of his head wound began to plague him. He started to pant.
"I-Ivan…!" he called for the Russian.
Ivan was drying his hands with another cloth. "What is it?"
"I don't feel good…" He let Ivan place a hand on his forehead.
"A fever. Hold on." Ivan took the cold sack from before to fill it up with snow once again. Kicking off the boots, he hurried over to Arthur's bedside and laid the sack atop his forehead. "I have something for your fever. Just lay still." He went to one of his many trunks, opened the smallest one and took out a glass medicine bottle. He had purchased it from the town's doctor a little while ago to aid with his own fever. It was horrid tasting stuff, but it would help Arthur to get better. Bringing it over with a wooden spoon, Ivan poured some of the thick green liquid. "Open wide."
"What is it?" Arthur asked.
"It will help with your fever. It's medicine, from the city doctor."
Arthur opened his mouth and let Ivan feed him the medicine. It was disgusting, but he had this type before. It must be from the same doctor and it always worked. Still, he was shivering and freezing, but was sweating. He hated this. He hated being weak, useless and sick. He hated how he was trapped with a large ogre in the middle of the woods when he could be at home with his servants. But Arthur knew he had no one else to blame but himself. It was his greed that urged him to take up business in the moonshine industry. If he hadn't, then he would still be at his house now, living the high life, not shitting into chamber pots.
"Are you cold? Should I get you another blanket?"
"Yes." Arthur answered quickly. Ivan hand another fur blanket at the foot of the bed and he tossed it over Arthur's shivering body. "Still cold."
"I'll keep you warm with my body heat."
Green eyes widened. "No."
"I will not try anything. And you really have no choice. This is my house. You are using my bed and eating my food." He crawled under the covers. "I cleaned up your vomit and emptied your chamber pot. I've been helping you to heal and yet all you do is spit at my hospitality."
Arthur was too weak to fight back with words, so he just lay there as the large man pulled him close. He felt the immediate warmth of Ivan's solid arms holding him tight. Ivan threw his leg over top of Arthur's, trying to usher the smaller man further beneath him. Arthur allowed himself to be maneuvered, anything to help him stop shivering. Ivan still stunk of earth and grime, but the large body was warm regardless. Ivan really was a big man, stocky with muscle hardened by heavy labor. Arthur closed his eyes and tucked his arms under Ivan's chest, trying to burrow inside of him. Ivan was holding him firmly, but gently.
"Ivan?" He whispered the name softly. "I'm warm now."
"Hush. You will get cold again, so we'll stay like this."
"But-"
"Hush. Rest now and feel better. I will keep you warm throughout the night."
Arthur knew it had to be the fever affecting him, but he suddenly started to cry into Ivan's shirt. He buried his face into the white linen, sobbing. He wanted to go home. He wanted to feel better. He wanted his old life back. He wanted Alfred to belong to him. He wanted things to be the way they were and yet it would seem as if God Himself was punishing him. What was going to become of him? Will he simply die from his wounds and leave this earth? Or is he doomed to live the life of a captive in Ivan's cabin home?
"I want to go home!" Arthur whispered into Ivan's shirt.
Ivan rests his chin atop of the blonde head. "This is your home now until you are better."
"I don't want to live here…"
"Then I will carry you out into the snow and leave you there."
Arthur's eyes widened and he tensed up. "No…!"
"Then be quiet and rest. You'll feel better in the morning."
"I am not…made for this wilderness world of yours. When I am better…let me go."
Ivan chuckled. "Go where? How will you survive in the snow, hm? You are safer here with me."
"No…" he moaned.
"There are many things I could have done to you, Arthur. I could have left you to die in the snow. I could have chopped you up and used you as bait to lure in bears or wolves. I could tie you to this bed and enjoy your body, but I haven't done any of those things. I want to be your friend. Don't make me angry at you, Arthur. I don't want to be angry with you. I don't like being angry."
Arthur gulped at the last few sentences, remembering all the sharp objects on the walls. "I'm sorry…I'm just scared. Scared of this life." Maybe that would work. "I don't mean to be…cross."
Ivan smiled and cuddled him close. "Aw, there's no reason to be scared! Ivan will protect you and show you how to live here!"
Even through his fever, Arthur couldn't help but say, 'that was easy'. But now the medicine was making him sleepy and he chose to cuddle up into Ivan as well. Hopefully, by some chance, this was all just a fever induced dream and he'll wake up in his own fluffy bed with a cup of warm tea waiting for him.
End Chapter 2 TBC
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Frozen Shadow