Chapter Text
Soulmate. A beautiful word, isn’t it? And the beauty is not just in its gentle, somewhat dreamy sound, but in the meaning itself. A person who is destined for you, your other half to make you complete, your best friend and lover all at once. People are looking for each other every second, striving to meet that most special person, perfect for them, as soon as possible. Lady Fate is benevolent enough to help those searching – she gives them an opportunity to get in contact with their destined one after they turn sixteen years old. Teens all over the world are waiting, armed with pens, counting minutes to the moment when they finally can write the sacramental words “Hi, I’m your soulmate” on their wrist. Then they breathlessly wait some more. When an answer appears on the skin, their smiles are something to see – so full of awe, warm and loving.
Countries, however, don’t allow themselves to get tangled in all this mess. They don’t acknowledge the existence of soulmates, fate or any such kind of happiness. For centuries there has been an unspoken, strictly observed taboo against countries seeking company of their soulmates. It is observed not for fear of punishment – not at all – but because countries wouldn’t act to their own detriment.
No one knows for sure who made them realize for the first time that they could only lead a hauntingly lonely life. Apparently it was France, who had discovered that his soulmate was an ordinary human girl with a short lifespan. After her death Francis became desolate and weak, stopped caring about his responsibilities and lost interest in international politics. All countries learned a lesson from this glaring example. If your soulmate might be human, it’s better to avoid the risk and resist the temptation to write something on your forearm.
Of course, sometimes curiosity got the better of a nation. Russia, for instance, starting from the sixteenth century wrote messages to his would-be soulmate, but to no avail. With every message left unanswered, Russia grew more and more disappointed. He looked at all those happy people around and envy overwhelmed him, flowing out in the form of rude and sarcastic words. Nothing good could come of it, so in the nineteenth century Russia decided to stop vain attempts to find his possibly long-dead soulmate and focused on his country’s development. The very day that the decision was taken he wrapped a piece of cloth around his forearm and erased all thoughts about “twin flames” and whatnot from his mind for a long time. Russia was to go through many hardships: revolutions, wars, perestroika… Over the years he would gain experience, wisdom and power, would age a life or even two and in the end dare to remove the cloth as he no longer considered soulmates a forbidden fruit. Rather, he now regarded the whole concept dispassionately and with a touch of healthy scepticism.
America was another nation that broke the taboo – out of childish curiosity. Alfred, having freed himself from colonial rule and growing more powerful by the day, remained a naïve boy. In the nineteenth century he just turned sixteen and, despite England’s warnings drilled into him since childhood, carefully wrote “hello” on his wrist with a quill pen. Alfred couldn’t sleep that night, every so often looking at the spot where his writing had already disappeared but no response showed. Alfred tried again and again, ignoring disapproving gazes of Mexico, Canada and European countries that noticed traces of ink on his skin. He scratched his forearm with the pen’s sharp end, rubbed it until it turned red and broke out in rashes, but all in vain. The world was changing quickly, Alfred was changing too. From the simple dream of finding his soulmate he moved to the goal of becoming a superpower. Everything else paled into insignificance. A casually worn suit got replaced by a bomber jacket, instead of smiling shyly he flashed cocky grins, the glasses glinting on his nose were set in a brand new frame, and his forearm was covered by a black band which Alfred would remove only after the end of the Cold War.
Both Russia and America accepted their lonely existence as nations and found happiness in other things. Things like rivalry.
***
Ivan was sitting in a conference room, slowly and tiredly putting his papers away into a black leather folder. The room had emptied quite swiftly: China’s representatives had hurried to catch a plane and Russians most likely had gone home. It was already dark outside, and a big round moon was hanging in the sky like a reminder that another day had passed.
“Um, excuse me, are you Ivan Braginsky?” an assistant girl ran up to him from behind, heels clicking on the wooden floor. She smiled awkwardly, noticing his sleepy expression, and smoothed her skirt down nervously. “I was asked to tell you that a parliament session is scheduled for tomorrow at 3:00 p.m. There will be a hearing on amendments to the law concerning the production and circulation of alcohol and alcohol-containing products."
Cursing silently, Ivan rolled his eyes. Why would MPs threaten this of all things? What, if their wives forbade them to drink then they had to make everybody else’s lives miserable too? Ivan shook his head, took the pen that the girl had been holding in her delicate hand, and, seeing no sheet of paper left on the table, wrote down the info on his wrist.
***
Alfred rolled over onto his side and stretched, exposing his face to the warm rays of the spring sun. He yawned deeply and reached for his phone to check it for new messages, but stopped short upon seeing blue figures appearing one after another on his wrist. Alfred bolted upright, struggling out of the blanket, and rushed to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water. Once fully awake, he looked cautiously at the writing which was real after all and not something he had dreamed up. “15:00 с. в К.” it said. Alfred gulped, tracing the clumsy symbols with his fingertips, and dashed back to his room to grab a pen.
Yes, America had promised himself that he would stop trying, but now he knew his soulmate was alive and could be contacted. The temptation was just too strong. It might not be the right thing to do, but it was bound to be interesting.