Hi! This is my first fanfiction, I hope you guys like it ^^

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Note: I changed the cover picture because Zephyr-Tolstoy drew it for this story! The full picture is on her deviant art and her username there is: Greefeeny . Thank you!

To: Guest ;; Thank you for pointing out my mathematical error. I've changed the years passed to 9 years.

Fire, all he saw was fire.

A seven year old Ivan Bragninsky watched with horror as his village started to burn. The wooden cottages were easily engulfed with the spreading flames and the sky was a mixture of black ash and blazing fire. Everyone screamed and ran as the fire chased them out of the village. Sometimes the fire would catch the people and engulf them whole. Men took their woman, and children took the elderly as they all fled into the safe folds of the forest.

But why did they have to run? Ivan thought to himself as he started to draw the all too familiar magical runes in his flowing, purple magic. Just put it out with a water spell right?

"Vanya, we must run!" His older sister interrupted. Ivan frowned, he never liked it when he was interrupted.

"Why? Why don't we just put it out with water?" He asked innocently.

At this, Katyusha's face fell and she wordlessly grabbed Ivan's hand and tugged him along.

"We are not running from the fire, little Ivan, we are running from the soldiers." Katyusha gently, but urgently explained and urged them to run faster. Ivan was silent and was quick to grasp the situation. He was always good at understanding things, especially things like war.

He automatically grabbed his little sister's hand and they ran after their parents. Just as the forest came into their sight, a soldier's hybrid unicorn-horse pulled up in front of them. The giant beast reared up and gave a fearsome neigh and the three scramble to a stop. Katyusha automatically protectively stood in front of her two younger siblings. Ivan pulled his large scarf over his mouth and warily eyed the fully armored soldier with his critical, much too intelligent purple eyes.

"You, are now under the protection of the Myrlian army." The man announced in English, the common language of the four kingdoms. Unfortunately for them though, the village was in a small kingdom which spoke a single, local language, Russian.

Ivan understood him though, and quietly translated for his sisters. He could tell that the word "protection" was a much too… nice word and substituted it for something much more suitable in Russian.

"Ah that's right, you all are bumpkins. Don't speak the language of the great kingdoms." He mocked again with a disdainful look on his armored face.

Ivan kept his eyes carefully neutral and pulled his scarf down to cover his displeased frown, it was an expression unfit for a child his age.

"Well, you should understand hand motions right? Go back to the village." He pointed to them, and then back to the pathetic remains of what used to be buildings.

Katyusha understood without her sibling's translation and nudged Ivan and Natalya back in the direction of the village. The eleven year old firmly gripped both of her sibling's hands and glanced at her seven year old younger brother, and her six year old little sister, who gazed at her with confused eyes.

"What about mama?" Natalya asked a bit urgently. Ivan directed his purple gaze onto the ground while Katyusha answered her sister's question.

"W-we are on a play date Natalya. You have to be very nice to these people okay?" Katyusha said soothingly to her sister, who nodded.

"Da, nice." She happily said. Ivan glanced behind him, the soldier wasn't even paying attention to them at all. He started to gather his magic, which materialized itself as a purple aura. If he could just hit him, knock him off of his horse.

A tight squeeze of his left hand broke his train of thought and he looked at his sister with surprise. She gave him a strained smile.

"Nyet Vanya. Your magic is strong, but there are many of them. You know too little spells, if you hit him, it could be the end of all of us. You must never show your magic to them otherwise they will take you far, far away from here, or even kill you. Understand?" Her voice was soft, slow, and fearful. Ivan tilted his head and squeezed her hand back, he didn't want to be separated from his sisters.

"Da, I understand."

Katyusha let go of his hand to ruffle his hair, "Good."

In total, from a village of four hundred, only a hundred of them remained. Half of them were women and children, a fourth were the elderly, and the other fourth were able-bodied men.

"You are now under the jurisdiction of the great Myrlian empire, ruled by his majesty Henry De'mois Jones, the seventh generation of our first ruler Triton, the demon slayer, dragon conqueror, the man of five great magics.

"As long as you do not resist, you will be treated fairly." The man who Ivan presumed to be the leader shouted. The peaceful village grimly accepted their fate- they weren't fighters. They were farmers.

It started out not so bad. Although Ivan was young, he was only a centimeter shorter than his older sister and was already used to working out in the fields anyway. Every day, he would go and milk the cows, collect the chicken eggs, and tend to the crops from the second the sun peeked up from the mountains, till the very last moment it disappeared under the rolling hills of the countryside.

Katyusha and Natalya would sit at home with the other women and children and cooked luxurious meals for the soldiers, while they themselves were forced to cook soup and bake a small amount of bread for the village people. It wasn't so bad, Ivan kept telling himself as he wiped his sweat off with the back of his dirt-covered hand. It could be worse.

The months passed by like this, he would go out into the field during the day and returned back at night to his smiling sister and they would sleep together in their small house.

One night however, everything changed. It all started with a fateful knock on their wooden door. The village buildings had just been restored to a less depressing state a little over a month ago, and since they were only children- they were given the smallest one.

Ivan groggily opened his eyes and got up from the wood floor, he rubbed his eyes and yawned as he shuffled to the banging door. "Da, I am coming." He grumbled in Russian. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see a soldier at his door.

"Katyusha?" He asked for his sister with a single word.

No one knew that Ivan spoke Myrlian- and perhaps it was for the better- he thought and was a bit hesitant to let the soldier into his house. He mulled over the choices presented to him and knew the safest thing would be to simply call her sister over. "K-Katyusha?" Ivan quietly called. In the darkness of the house, a small candle was lit and his sister groggily told her brother that she was coming.

Ivan forced himself to look at the full moon, to take his mind off of the soldier while Katyusha made her way over. It was a beautiful night, he thought as a few clouds passed the great glowing orb in the sky. He noticed the soldier inspecting him and turned his stunning, amethyst eyes onto the soldier.

"Wow, those are some eyes." He complimented. Ivan stared at him blankly until Katyusha arrived at the door in her night gown. She sleepily rubbed her eyes. "Da?" She yawned.

The soldier actually asked to enter the house and when they welcomed him into their house, he just sat there and talked to them. Well, to Katyusha to be more specific. Ivan and Natalya watched from the corner of the house as the man chatted the girl up, who responded well in her broken English.

This happened once a week, and over time Ivan had come to accept it as a normality.

A year later, the soldier visited almost every night. He knocked on their door during ungodly hours to talk to Katyusha for an hour or two before he left. He sometimes brought them food- meat. Ivan had remained neutral about the man though, something didn't seem quite right about him.

It later turned out Katyusha had been right to keep Ivan's magic a secret, the dozen or so men that occupied their little village all seemed to be adept magic users and frequently dueled each other with mock battles to pass the time.

He wouldn't have stood a chance against them. Ivan thought as he observed the man who they had yet to know his name talk to his sister, who's English had greatly improved thanks to their exchanges. Natalya fell asleep on his shoulder and Ivan wished he could do the same.

Another year later Ivan was nine, Katyusha was thirteen and Natalya was no longer with them.

A month before, a drunken soldier had killed her with a fire spell. Ivan gripped his spoon so hard the wood cracked and angrily looked at his bowl with disgust. "Why did she have to die?" He asked his sister, who only stared at her bowl. "It just happens, Vanya." She whispered before taking her spoon and eating her soup.

"Sometimes there is no 'why'." Her words echoed the harsh realities of life and awakened a fire within Ivan's heart.

Ivan looked at their walls with disgust, one day, he vowed. One day, he would get revenge for their sister.

Natalya's death seemed to mark the beginning of a long and painful road. The soldier who talked to them at night now often arrived drunk, and Ivan always noticed whenever he would get just a little too close to his sister. Touch her hand, or look at her with that horrible gaze. Ivan would always be forced to watch while his sister tried to bite back her cries of discomfort. Ivan had almost killed the man when his hand went under his sister's shirt.

Who was this bastard to touch his sister like that? His purple magic threatened to take over and was just about to cast a wind spell to end his pathetic life until her sister's eyes met with his.

'you promised' were the unspoken words. Ivan forced himself to stop, for his sister. He did the only thing he could do, and turned around to give his sister some privacy. A couple of years later, the soldier's touches went a step farther and he committed the horrible crime of rape. Ivan shuddered every time he entered the house, and Katyusha would always try to comfort him.

"It is okay Vanya, it doesn't hurt." She assured him with a sisterly smile. Ivan could only look away and cover his hands over his ears- he knew she was lying.

"What are you?" Ivan once heard him huskily in Katyusha's ear. Ivan clenched his hands and wrapped the scarf around himself tighter. Despite the room being a good eighty degrees, Ivan always felt cold when the soldier was in their house. "W-What do you mean?" Came the choked voice of his sister. Oh how he wished to kill that man, Ivan thought. It would be so easy just to end their suffering.

"I have never seen hair or eyes like yours on a human. Your brother is quite… exotic as well." The two siblings shuddered. He was thirteen years old now, and Katyusha was fifteen. Any girl her age would've envied her body, her divine figure. Ivan loathed her sister's attractiveness- it was the source of all of her unhappiness. "W-we're supposedly a-an eighth dragon." She whispered. The man drunkenly laughed and placed a sloppy kiss on her lips. "Ah, I suppose I've conquered the dragon then?" he slurred with a small hint of glee.

Ivan felt like puking.

Another year later, his sister became terribly ill. She had been prohibited to work in the kitchen for fear of spreading her sickness to others, and the man had stopped coming over to their house- much to his relief. Only Ivan was left to take care of his ill sister, who did his best.

"I'm sorry Vanya, you must be so tired." Katyusha mumbled her soft, sweet Russian. Ivan desperately hung onto every word, although he was careful not to show it. He had to be the adult now.

"Don't be ridiculous, sister." Ivan said with as much love as he could. "We are family. Family sticks together, it is your turn to be taken care of, da?" He gave Katyusha one of his rare, genuine smiles. Nothing like the large ones he often plastered onto his face, it was smaller, warmer.

The sister seemed content, "I wish you would smile like that more often Vanya." She whispered. Ivan grabbed her hand after putting a cool cloth onto her fiery forehead and gave it a gentle kiss.

"Only for you. When you get better I will smile more like this, da?"

"Da."

She did't get better. Ivan tried everything he could, he was even tempted to try his healing magic. "No, Vanya. They will notice." She weakly whispered.

"It will just be a little." He pleaded with her. "Just enough to make the cough go away, or to numb the pain."

"Nyet." Ivan was silenced with that one word and his hands fell helplessly to his sides. His magic had grown more powerful- he could feel it. He had the raw power, but no knowledge of spells- he hated his powerlessness.

A couple of nights later, the man came. And for once- Ivan thought as he reluctantly let the man back into their house- sober.

"Hey Kat," Ivan stiffened at the use of the pet name the gave his sister. He sat down next to her on the wooden floor and stroked her beautiful hair. Ivan felt anger start to bubble in his large frame. At only fifteen he was about the same height as this retched soldier, who seemed oblivious to his presence. It would be a piece of cake to snap his neck right here and now.

"I heard you've been feeling unwell. I talked to the medics and convinced them to take a look at you." He cooed. Katyusha's teal eyes widened,"O-Oh." She responded lamely.

The man helped Katyusha get up and carried her out the door. Ivan went to follow them, but the man gave him a hard stare.

"Only one." His voice was like ice.

The teen was rooted to the spot and watched as his sister was carried off. The village was a wreck right now. Rape, beat, and steal. That was the new system they lived in. It was only because of Ivan that Katyusha had managed to survive. Ivan sat down at the single table in the now empty house and waited for his sister's return. He fell asleep a couple hours later and uneasily sighed, she would probably spend the night in the infirmary.

There was a commotion when Ivan woke up the next morning. The Russian groggily made his way out of the house and looked up, it was oddly cloudy that day.

Soldiers and villagers alike rushed into the forest to see what all of the commotion was about while Ivan took his time sweet time. When he arrived, the villagers muttered amongst themselves and the soldiers stared at the scene before them in shock. Ivan followed their upward gaze, and his heart stopped. He couldn't believe what was in front of him.

"K-Katyusha?" He managed to choke out. There hung the soldier hanging from a makeshift noose out of animal hide. His tongue was a swollen blue and his eyes were glazed over in an eternal dead stare. Ivan dared to trail his eyes lower to beneath the soldier and his blood froze in his veins; underneath the dead soldier was the bloody mess that he was sure was his sister. Ivan's breath was lodged in his throat, it was almost like she was asleep.

Her eyes were closed and her face was so peaceful, despite the fact the all of her organs- oh god. Ivan turned away and ran to throw up.

After retching what little dinner he had the night before, he managed to bring himself back to his sister's disemboweled state and felt hollow. Everyone still crowded around the scene and the soldiers were unsure about what to do with the body. Ivan kneeled down next to his sister's figure and ran a finger across her stiff, cold cheeks.

"Katyusha." He whispered, his voice cracked in the middle.

A soldier came up to him and pointed to her, and then back to Ivan. "She is my sister." He clarified in English with a very light, barely noticeable accent. The soldier blinked, "Well bury her then, we'll give you the day off. Just clean up this mess." His voice clearly displayed his disgust.

Ivan gave a short nod, and everyone eventually cleared out. As they left, Ivan could feel something horrible growing in his heart. He felt his anger for the soldiers who killed and oppressed them on a daily basis, he resented the villagers in the protective cover of the forest for abandoning them, and above all- he despised the king who ruled over such barbaric people.

He buried his sister deep in the forest, next to the little grave they had made for Natalya. Ivan had taken off his black, tattered coat and carefully hung his scarf somewhere as he began the bloody, gory task of bringing his sister to the grave. He splashed water on the kill sight until only the strong scent of iron remained. The village went back to its normal day to day activities, but Ivan's house was now empty, much like his heart.

Ivan's chance for revenge appeared when the boy turned 11 years old. One of the large countries south of them, the Kingdom of Fenris filled with Werewolves, wolf shape-shifters, and great wolves came to liberate the village. Many of the villagers cowered in fear when these great wolves, came.

But Ivan just stood and watched as their tormentor's blood stained the ground. Some of them were in their human form, he observed and grinned when they easily crushed the occupying army. "We were sent from our great King, Fenris." A werewolf announced. Its dark silver fur poked out of its black steel armor. "We are now officially at war with Myrle. You are under the protection of Fenris. We will leave you alone." He announced to the wary villagers.

Ivan stepped forward with his ever present smile and smirked when their liberator's fur ruffled at his presence.

"Take me with you." It was not a request, it was a demand

The army of thirty looked at each other uncertainly, "You are not obligated to fight." The man who he assumed to be their leader told him. His eyes were a startling light blue and his hair was darker than an abyss. It was the classic trait of a wolf shape shifter.

"I want to fight." Ivan repeated a bit stubbornly.

"It is dangerous… we cannot recruit a child into our ranks." Despite Ivan's size, his features obviously told of his young age.

Ivan remained unfazed and his smile only widened. "They raped, and killed my sisters. I had to bury both of them. I'm strong and I have nothing left to lose." His voice was eerily light. It took the army a while to register he was speaking to them in English while they had been addressing them in Russian.

"…An intense amount of magic is required." The leader tried again, he obviously didn't want a child's blood on his hands.

Ivan, for the first time in many years unleashed his purple magic. The soldiers raised their eyebrows, and a few of them instinctively raised their hackles.

"If I die, I die. Like I said, I have nothing left to lose."

The general gave the teenager a long, hard stare, before he finally relented. "Alright kid. Welcome to the army."

-9 years later-

"Salute!"

The officer barked to the thousands of troops in the camp. As one, the ones with hands saluted, while those who just had paws stood to attention. Tails down, head high. For the winged troops, they placed their wings across their heart. Everyone stood stock still as a tall, white haired man walked down the long line. From his tan coat, iconic light pink scarf and eye color, everyone already knew who this man was. Ivan Bragninsky, General of the army at the obscenely young age of twenty.

He was frighteningly intelligent, and infamously blood thirsty. Ivan tilted his cap down, his ever present smile on his face as his boots crunched through the snow.

Nine years ago when the small group of soldiers brought Ivan to train at the capital, he did so diligently. He devoted an entire year, barely speaking with anyone, to learn advanced spells and magical theories. His magic was so powerful even the royal mages had begun to fear him. Knighted by King Fenris himself, he was hailed as a prodigy, a war hero, and by many Myrlians, a murderer.

Ivan pretended to pay attention to the nervous lieutenant, who briefed him on their situation. They were outnumbered, ten to one. The army was on its last leg, its troops exhausted, and their rations were running out. They had sent a request for back up, and the government's response was to send Ivan, who had travelled thousands of miles in a couple of days, alone.

"You must be tired. We have a tent waiting for you." The young wolf offered a bit nervously. Ivan walked with his eyes closed, he didn't need to see where he was going. At least not while it was peaceful. He could sense their magic, it was a good exercise for him, he thought as he entered the tent. He also didn't really like people seeing the color of his eyes anyway. The color that that man had loved so much.

He was escorted to his tent and he relaxed in his stiff cot. When he was sure the man left, he opened his startling, purple eyes and gazed at the green material. He wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck and played with his magic.

It wasn't like he had anything else to do. He drew a rabbit with his purple magic and watched as it seemed to come to life. It hopped around in the air before dissipating into the frigid air. Ivan sighed and crudely drew a few other animals in the air.

"Have I avenged you yet? My sisters." He asked the top of the tent.

He's killed thousands of Myrlian troops and set fire to hundreds of military outposts. At first each death brought him an immense amount of pleasure. Now five years later, he felt nothing. He continued to stare at the tent until he was summoned by the colonel.

Again, he closed his eyes and walked out into the frigid air. "W-We are yours to command." The same lieutenant lowered his head.

Ivan grinned, and revealed his startling purple eyes. If there was one thing he liked, it was leading troops into battle. There was nothing like the adrenaline of rushing the enemy alongside hundreds of your comrades.

If the soldiers were unsettled by his unusual eye color, they didn't show it as Ivan reorganized their groups.

"You will attack fast, and hard. I want every single Lycan that can fly up in the air, and just start casting fire and air spells." Ivan instructed a couple of hours later. The term Lycan broadly referred to creatures who shared wolf traits. The general grinned, this would be a fight to remember.

It was then that the troops were able to witness first hand why their government had only sent Ivan. As their army of a thousand clashed against an army more than ten times their size, Ivan unleashed his destructive powers. He called upon advanced magic that hailed death from the sky and cast razor sharp wind magic across the entire enemy army.

This greatly boosted the Fenrican morale and they pushed forward with the General leading them. The battlefield was a mess of arrows, steel, and spells. Ivan constantly cast his advanced spells, his hand never rested as he scribbled purple magical runes in the air. He grinned maniacally as he physically cut down a soldier with his long saber, this was the most fun he's had in a while.

The battle lasted six hours before the ragged Fenrican army stood victor, Ivan was covered in blood and the only sign of his fatigue was his slightly ragged breathing that came in short white puffs of mist. The werewolves captured the camp with ease and victory was quickly declared theirs. Ivan surveyed the masses of bodies that littered the ground around them. Their crimson blood was eagerly absorbed by the white snow. There, Ivan could see it in his remaining troop's eyes. Admiration, wonder, awe, and fear. He tipped his hat down and looked into the distance where Myrle's capital lay. He would avenge his sisters with the death of the king.

Another year later Ivan got permission to visit his old village for the anniversary of his sister's death. He brought two sunflowers along with him and was guarded by two winged wolves clad in silver armor to accompany him through the empty dirt paths of the back country. It was unnecessary, the three of them knew, but it was of some importance to boast about how powerful their army was to the common people.

Ivan was pleasantly surprised when he arrived, his village had returned to its former glory. The rich scent of meat and spices came from every house and the streets were full once again with laughing children and adults, who had returned from the forest after the village had been liberated.

He couldn't help but grimace when he saw some of the older residents. Ivan personally hated them, the ones who had escaped. Especially their own parents. They were safe in the protective arms of the forest and never even tried to help.

They let their people die. Ivan kept the thoughts to himself though as he attracted the curious gaze of everyone in the village, he ignored them and walked into the forest and kneeled down beside the graves of his sisters. The wooden sticks that had once marked their graves were gone, but in their place were two large stones. Soft grass had grown over the earth where they were buried, and a wave of nostalgia washed over him. The two guards retreated to the edge of the clearing to give their general some privacy as he tried to formulate a sentence.

"I am back, if only for a bit. Natalya and Katyusha." He spoke softly in Russian. He kneeled down in between the graves and set his two sunflowers on top of where their bodies were buried.

"I don't know if you would approve, since you were always a gentle girl Katyusha." Ivan forced a small laugh and rested his head on his knees. "But I do not have to hide my magic anymore. I'm going to get the people that made this happen to you." Ivan said assuringly.

The forest rustled with the wind and Ivan took a long swig from his flask. "I will avenge you, da?" Ivan gently declared. And ran his hands across the two stones. The smaller one was Natalya's, and the larger one was Katyusha's. He took another swig of his flask and stood to leave. He would avenge his sisters no matter what.

"Peace? How can you think of peace?" A werewolf clad in the soft red robes of nobility shouted across the long table to their king. Ivan remained silent with his eyes closed, arms crossed, and his ever-present smile. Although he dared not to show it, he was quite displeased as well. The news was sudden and as a man who spent most of his time in the front lines, he couldn't help but feel like all of the Lycan lives that were lost were now be wasted.

Fenris was a wolf twice the size of the largest horse. He was the direct son of the seven great ancestors who gave birth to all life on their world and had lived for many centuries. His yellow and grey eyes scanned the skeptical faces of his court but continued nonetheless.

"Myrle has asked for peace and has even offered to cover the expenses of this war and cede the land we have already conquered to us. It is a good deal." Fenris, the king, said in his deep, rumbling voice. His flawless silver fur shifted as he raised his head to be certain his voice would reach all the way to the very end of the long table. He laid across many red pillows and his tail elegantly laid in front of him.

"Have you forgotten how their troops ravaged their neighboring countries? They have committed thousands of war crimes!" Yule, the senior wizard of the castle cried. All formalities were forgotten in his rage and his wings ruffled in anger.

Fenris nodded in solemn agreement, "Yes, and with the treaty we can punish them. We have decimated their army, the only thing next left to kill will be their citizens. How can we expect them to repent if we become monsters like them?" His voice was patient- almost fatherly- and his words were wise.

There were a couple of glances Ivan's way. Ivan's tragic past and experiences with the troops wasn't a well kept secret. They noticed how oddly quiet he had been since the beginning of the meeting and uncomfortably shifted in their seats. He would normally put out a question or suggestion every now and then, but now he said nothing. It seemed like his silence spoke volumes.

"Ivan? What is your opinion?" The King asked the young General.

Ivan knew he couldn't refuse to answer, and let out a small defeated sigh. He would avenge his sisters, but he owed his life to the King. He would put aside revenge for now, long enough to come up with a different plan. He silently prayed that his sisters would forgive him for putting off their revenge for just a little while longer and resigned himself to the inevitable ruling. Perhaps the law would justly punish the King.

"If," He started in a light, but slightly troubled tone, "If peace is what his majesty wants, then I will help. My hate for the Myrlian King is great, but my loyalty to King Fenris is greater. Whatever the King wishes, I shall obey." His voice was even, tired.

Fenris nodded his head in gratitude, "We will take a vote then." He declared.

"All those in favor of peace, say I."

"I." All fourteen members of the meeting unanimously agreed.

"You are guilty of seventy two war crimes, what do you plead?" The audience of dragons, unicorns, humans, elves, and Lycans asked the King.

"Not guilty." Henry told the audience without hesitation. He was able to pardon sixty of the seventy two crimes, but ten remained.

A fine of a million Myrlian gold coins was imposed and they would be forcibly occupied by Fenrican troops for the next decade. The punishment wasn't enough in Ivan's opinion.

Soon though, the trial was over and now they were to sign a peace treaty in the neutral territory of the Griffons.

He obeyed their requests and left his saber and staff in the entrance of the great marble palace of the Griffons and now sat face to face with the man responsible for his sister's death along with King Fenris and his other guards, all unarmed.

They were tricked, the Myrlians had managed to sneak weapons into the palace and attacked the King. Ivan quickly summoned a strong shield to protect them, but he was suddenly bound by magical chains. These treacherous leaches! Ivan growled as he struggled against his holds. He could hear the King call his name, and felt his magic being slowly drained until his vision turned to black.

The next time he awoke, he felt himself in a straight jacket, blindfolded and gagged. He could feel the thick aura of magical charms around him that sucked away his magic.

"Well, it seems you've woken up." He heard the King's voice. He let out an animalistic snarl.

"Now now, no need to be so angry." The king chastised.

"They think you're dead, the Fenricans are mourning you as we speak. While we did lose more land as a penalty, it was worth it. With you out of the equation, it's only a matter of time before we slowly make our come back." He laughed.

Ivan's magic was still terrifying under his restraints, his purple magic spread until it was stopped by the strong wards.

"Soon, you will be forgotten. It's in the nature of living things to forget." He laughed again, "It took twenty five of our best magicians to capture, and drain your magic to this point. Safe to say you won't be getting out anytime soon. This space is suspended in time, you won't need to eat or drink or take a piss. Immortality!" He cackled.

Ivan felt his disgusting breath on his face but refused to turn away. "Goodbye, Ivan Bragninsky." The king's voice whispered.

At first Ivan tried to get out, he struggled for many months. But every single time, the charms would drain his magic. Still, no one had come to check up on him. Months turned into years, and years into decades. Ivan eventually stopped trying to count and the gravity of his situation dawned onto him.

He was alone, in a dungeon in god knows where, everyone thought he was dead, and he couldn't use his magic. He mused over his situation for a few years before coming to the conclusion that he might as well die with some shred of humor. Ivan amused himself with mental games for a couple of years, until he began sleep and dream of the past for most of the time. His anger simmered and he grew restless in the dark silence and was a prisoner for many, many years.

The brief backstory of Ivan Bragninsky has been finished! I'll probably put out a new chapter every 4-7 days. I hope you guys liked it! If there are any spelling or grammar errors, don't be afraid to drop me a PM or a review, and if you guys liked it please favorite and follow this story :) Thanks!

~Preuss