Sleeping Sunflower: Although it's been years after WWIII, Russia has not forgotten the love he held for his dear sunflower. He waits for the day she awakens and returns the warmth to his life.

Podsolnechnik: Sunflower

"My podsolnechnik... why must you be so unattainable? Why can Russia not have you?"

Violet eyes, filled with longing stared into unseeing blue. How Ivan wished she would respond. He wished that she would look back at him and snort at his obvious affection.

Ivan wanted to hear her loud and exuberant laughter, full of joy and so real.

Instead she lay frozen in time, forever beautiful, forever asleep within a tomb that he'd created for her.

Her golden hair floated around her, fluorescent light seeming to give her a halo. It made her look like an angel in a way. He could feel the smile that wished to invade his still features.

It was only because of her silence. With her mouth open and spouting as it always use to be, she could never seem so innocent.

Maybe it was a trait gifted to her by England.

Her skin looked pale in the blue tinted liquid that her body lay submerged in. Full of nutrients and vitamins, the solution would keep her tanned skin healthy and glowing. It would stay as flawless as it always was, disregarding the scars earned through conflict and war.

He never saw them as imperfections.

Merely battle scars proving her merit, showing how she hadn't succumbed to those who wished to fight against her.

How he longed to feel her forever warm skin against his own. She had always claimed that his skin was freezing. She'd sometimes shiver in his embrace. She would turn her small face up and try to leach warmth from his scarf and the heavy winter clothes he always wore.

Still when she visited him in Moscow, his very frozen heart, she would forget about the temperature and would spin around in the snow.

Of course later she would later end up chilled to the bone and whining that she would die from hypothermia. The first few moments in the snow however she reverted to the child within that she'd never fully abandoned.

Russia gazed sadly at America's still body, bare but for the tubes and sensors that monitored her every pulse and vitals. Ivan allowed a small moment of weakness where he put his large hands to the glass, almost as if she'd align her own with his as she used to.

Nonsensical and altogether unnecessary, she would often marble at his size and her own in comparison. She refused to let it daunt her however, still running to leap on his back and to pull at his arms.

Others feared to do such things knowing they might incur his wrath. The swift retribution that their bodies would feel at the unforgiving and brutal onslaught of his pipe.

She however knew that he would never do such a thing.

And even if he had tried she would have stood her ground gazing up at him unafraid. America was not one to run, to back down.

Despite odds being against her she always seemed to test fate.

He only wished that this time his podsolnechnik had not.

He could still remember the day the bombs had gone off. It had decimated the United States of America. Once proud buildings and monuments fell under wave and wave of weapons of mass destruction. America's children, her citizens, had instantly been incinerated at ground zero. Not even ashes remained.

The strange and unnatural energy wouldn't have a direct effect on a nation. The damage to her land however had brought her to her knees.

As her people fell to the ground poisoned by radiation, America, his America, had fallen to her knees screaming as the voices of millions reverberated in her mind.

Their agony was her agony.

Their pain was her pain.

The sprawling land of America lay in rubble and her once strong body lay in heap in Ivan's arms. Blood came from her mouth as she choked and gagged on her tongue and internal bleeding worsened the problem.

Her body seized as the burns from her land appeared on her skin.

America's heart stopped as her capital city was targeted.

Ivan broke five of her ribs that day as he threw every last bit of strength into trying to force her vital organ to revive.

He could not tell if his podsolnechnik could feel the pain he'd inflicted on her. He couldn't tell if she was still with him.

On that day of April 7, 2021, 20 states had been wiped clear off the map.

They no longer existed. There would be no life in those areas for years to come.

America the superpower had fallen. And a new World War had begun on American soil.

That day, the world stood shocked. Millions gave prayer for the loss of life on the North American continent.

That day Russia vowed vengeance on those that would dare to steal away the warmth that had finally found its way into his heart.

It was almost 7 years passed now and with the power of the new Allied powers, Russia had finally been able to enact his revenge. He had made it clear that he wanted to deal with the aggressors personally.

And he'd taken fiendish delight in the pain he'd caused them to feel. They had caused his sunflower to feel unimaginable pain, so it was only fair that he'd returned it tenfold.

Their screams of pain, the pleas for mercy had been like music to his ears. His own personal symphony.

However, it did not keep him satisfied. The fact that they no longer existed did not bring him peace yet.

It made his burden easier, but the fact remained that Amelia had not woken up. Not yet.

She lay in a state like death, confined to this container, waiting for the day that she would truly return to the world. To him.

Russia had taken her country under his wing and along with her northern neighbor and the others that she deemed her family, life was beginning to return to her lands.

It was slow progress, but it gave Ivan Braginski hope.

Ivan knew that it was only a matter of time until she rejoined the world of the living and went back to bringing warmth to the frozen ice lands he called his home.

For now he left her safe and contained in Moscow. As close to his heart as she could be. Here she would be safe.

He would protect.

Fend for her.

He would be her strength until she could stand on her own once more.

Each day he left her with a small piece of him to hold on to.

Within her small hands she held his heart, still beating in time to her own. The fact that it lay submerged in subzero temperatures didn't bother him much.

Ivan was used to them. And really his heart had the tendency to fall out and leave him at times. Why shouldn't he leave it here with America?

She'd promised to love him after all.

And now she truly owned his heart.

"Do not worry my podsolnechnik. I will return very soon to visit you again. You will be taking good care of my heart, da?"

Silence followed his question as always with his audience of one.

In his cracked mind, Ivan was very sure that she'd agreed.

A/N: And that's it. This was mostly practice for me trying to figure out how I write Hetalia characters and I figured why not start with two of my favorite ones. There are really no historical truths in this short piece so don't go searching for any. I also definitely don't speak Russian. So know that any Russian words used in this story were a gift from Google Translate. Don't kill me with angry reviews if they're not right! If you feel extra generous, then drop a review I guess, but again, this was more of a way to find inspiration for longer stories that I'd like to write. Hope you enjoyed it! If not, I'm very sorry for raping your virgin eyes. O.O I feel like France now.