Okay guys I know that this might be over a slightly touchy subject to some people but please look onto me with kindness. I screwed up a lot of historical facts while I did this just so I could make the story flow better so please don't hate me! T.T And if you find this a sensitive subject please do not read it. I don't want to upset anyone.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or Anastasia
It was winter. Almost Christmas time. The snow had softly settled on the roads and houses for as far as the eye could see. Street lamps glowed in the dark night but they couldn't outshine the stars that shone overhead. No children roamed the streets. No shops remained open. All had gone home. Except for Ivan.
Ivan Braginski, the owner of the world renowned Museum of Moscow, sat in front of a painting that was kept in the deepest vaults of the museums archives. As he sat on his plush arm chair, a fire cracked in the hearth. He sipped his vodka as he stared at the painting, thinking back to his old