ext_320557 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
inner-wings.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hetalia2010-08-10 05:57 am
inner-wings.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2010-08-10 05:57 am
Entry tags:
[Fanfic] One Day Without Love
Title: One Day Without Love
Author/Artist: inner_wings
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Russia, Catherine the Great, Empress Elizabeth; Russia/Catherine the Great
Rating: PG
Warnings: Cross-dressing
Summary: In which Russia is forced to wear a dress and isn't at all happy about it.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Russia knew it was important to learn how his various rulers ticked. Learn their strengths, learn their weaknesses, learn their unpleasant habits and tendencies so as to better avoid them. He was always very careful to never provoke his fourth Ivan's violent temper. He learned to not argue with Peter (his first, and greatest) about beards. And now with Elizabeth, it was vital to always make plans on Tuesday. They had to be good, convincing plans too. If he could come up with business outside Saint Petersburg, all the better. Lying didn't work, because Elizabeth somehow always saw through it. No, he needed a true, legitimate excuse for why he was too busy on Tuesday evenings to attend her masquerades.
He had been blessed with a lucky streak lately. He managed to avoid Tuesdays for a solid month. Perhaps the luck had lulled him into a false sense of security, because he failed to plan for the next Tuesday. He realized that careless error when Elizabeth approached him on Monday asking if he was coming to the Tuesday masquerade. And fool that he was, he had no excuse. He was trapped.
Russia honestly couldn't understand why Elizabeth loved these strange masquerades. If the theme had been anything else he might not have minded, but...Elizabeth's Tuesday masquerades were special. All the women were required to dress as men, and the men as woman. That was the rule. No one was exempt, not even Elizabeth's own nation.
With no way out (and it truly wasn't worth fighting with her over it,) he submitted to his fate the following day and tried to think happy thoughts while a servant helped him into a corset. As if the gown Elizabeth had ordered just for him wasn't humiliating enough, he had to wear the torturous underthings too. How did women stand such things? For that matter, how did they breathe? There didn't seem to be enough room in Russia's chest for ribs and lungs after he had been laced up, and even then he was assured that it was no where near as tight as the most fashionable ladies wore them! And people still wondered why he avoided the fashion trends, when half of them seemed out to kill the wearer.
The dress followed the corset and petticoats, and much as Russia loathed to have someone present to watch him struggle and wiggle his way into the thing, he had to admit that he couldn't have put it on without help. Women's clothes were so horrifically complicated, and he was afraid the fine material would tear under his clumsy hands. No matter how much he hated it, it was a well made dress, tailored to fit him perfectly, and in a shade of purple that Elizabeth told him matched his eyes. A light weight scarf of a paler shade of purple was included after Russia had flatly refused to go out with his neck exposed. Add a pair of satin slippers and a wig that was very nearly the same color as his real hair to the ensemble, and he was nearly done with that stage of the torture.
The last step was paints and powders for his face. Rouge had been added to his checks too, but there was little point to that when his face was already as red as Ukraine's homemade borscht. He glared at his reflection in the provided mirror, realized that he was pouting and pulled his lower lip back in until his expression looked less petulant and more quietly seething. It must have worked, because the servant hastily excused himself from the room and fled. Russia sighed wearily (which was no easy feat while wearing a corset) and looked back at the sorry sight in the mirror. He knew perfectly well that he wasn't a very attractive man, but he made a hideous woman. Every part of him was just too broad, and even the corset wasn't enough to make his body curve like a woman's should. It didn't help matters that he was...big. The irritating bit of extra weight that he could never lose was hidden easily enough in a man's clothes, but there was no disguising it in his dress. He gave the squishy part of his arm a mournful pinch and thought about feigning a sudden illness.
Not wanting to draw attention to himself by being late, Russia shuffled his way to the hall, trying to ignore the feeling of air between his legs. Few guests had arrived, and they all looked uncomfortable. Only Elizabeth seemed pleased with the spectacle. She was radiant in her ornate coat and breeches. Russia went through the usual motions of greeting her and complimenting her clothes before retreating to a corner where he could hopefully remain until the masquerade was over. More and more guests arrived, laughing sheepishly at their ridiculous wardrobes. Russia tried to make himself smaller. He had spent so much of his childhood wishing he could be big and tall, but now that he had his wish he found height and size to be overrated. It was handy if he wanted to intimidate someone, but it also made him stand out when he didn't want to stand out. He was at least a head over everyone in the room. Hiding was near impossible, unless he found something to crouch behind or duck under (which would be difficult when wearing a hoop skirt anyway.) He would have to endure the fact that everyone could easily see him, and no doubt they were secretly laughing-
“Good evening, fair lady.”
Russia whirled around, almost tripped over his own feet and looked down to see Catherine grinning playfully up at him as she stooped into a little bow. Russia saw Elizabeth watching them out of the corner of his eye, and quickly bobbed a curtsy that sent another wave of blood rushing up into his face.
“Don't tease, Catherine,” he moaned. Elizabeth was far enough away to be unable to overhear any complaining, but he kept his voice low all the same.
“Who was teasing? The dress matches your eyes perfectly.” Catherine rubbed her chin thoughtfully, nodding her approval at the color. Catherine looked remarkably good as a man, almost as good as Elizabeth. She resembled a beautiful young man in her breeches and waistcoat, and her chest was still small enough to be easily hidden by a loose shirt and some binding beneath. It hit Russia rather suddenly that he shouldn't have been thinking about Catherine's breasts when she was standing within arms length, and he shook his head to dislodge the thought. The movement almost knocked his wig off.
“Your Russian has gotten very good,” he said quickly to change the subject.
“Truly?” The compliment made Catherine's entire face light up. “Don't say it just to be kind, please. Flattery won't help me improve.”
“It is not flattery if it is true. And your German accent grows fainter by the day.”
The girl really did have a lovely smile. One could criticize her chin or her nose, but her smile was too radiant to find fault with.
“The empress has mentioned it to me as well,” Russia continued, eager to keep the smile from vanishing. “She said that you have learned our language remarkably fast. She is very pleased with you.”
To his dismay, Catherine's smile did fade slightly. “I'm afraid you haven't heard the latest, then. She isn't pleased with me at all these days. She scolded me the other day for riding my horse like a man.” The smile turned bitter. “She is worried riding like that will...damage me. So I won't be able to have children and produce an heir.”
And that was the most important thing, wasn't it? Princesses existed to be married off and produce heirs, and little else. No one cared if they didn't loved the man they were married to. No one cared if they weren't happy. It seemed a tragedy that someone like Catherine was chained down to such a life.
“Never mind that,” Catherine said hastily, glancing briefly in Elizabeth's direction. “I don't think I've asked but...” She turned back, her nose wrinkled slightly into a frown. “Ivan, what is your position here? Do you have a title?”
“Does it matter what I am?”
“No, but I was curious. You seem close to the empress, so I assumed that you must be someone fairly important. But I've never seen your name on any official documents, and I've never heard you announced with a title-”
“Let us say that I am a simple adviser, for now,” Russia interrupted hastily. So Catherine had noticed that something was strange about him. He shouldn't have been surprised. She was almost unnervingly observant at times.
Catherine grinned crookedly. “More secrets, then? I won't allow you to keep secrets from me when I'm the empress.”
“You are an ambitious little one, aren't you? Very well, I will tell you all my secrets when you are empress.”
“Do you promise? I will be most displeased if you go back on your word.” Catherine's eyes were clear and unyielding.
“I promise.” And he did. He always made it his business to tell every freshly coronated emperor and empress about what he really was. Peter was next in line for the throne, of course, but there could be little harm in letting his wife in on the secret too, when that day came.
Catherine's smile had thankfully returned at that. “I will hold you to it. And now, I'm afraid the empress has been watching us for a while now. We ought to dance, I think.”
Russia's face tried to turn deathly pale and beat red at the same time, and ended up blotchy. “No. No. No, no, no. I refuse.”
“It's what she expects,” Catherine protested, seizing Russia's hand and tugging at it. “And I can't afford to upset her any more. She'll be glad to see us playing along tonight. And they're playing a waltz now. A waltz won't be too difficult, will it?”
Russia wanted to gather up his skirts and flee the room, but Catherine's slim hands held more power than he gave them credit for, and he found himself being helplessly pulled out of his corner. Giving in, he let his hands hover awkwardly before resting his left stiffly on her shoulder. She giggled lightly and let one tiny hand curve around his hip, grasping his right hand in her left. Their difference in height made the position awkward, but Catherine only smiled and said, “Follow my lead.”
Historical Notes:
Empress Elizabeth did indeed have masquerades on Tuesdays where the women dressed as men and the men dressed as women. Catherine didn't like them, but since she wanted to stay on the temperamental empress' good side, she tried to act like she enjoyed them. Later when she became empress, she did away with the practice.
Catherine loved horses, and rode for fun almost her entire life. She preferred to ride like a man instead of a woman, which caused a bit of a stir at court and angered Elizabeth, who thought that might have been part of the reason why Catherine hadn't gotten pregnant yet. Although Catherine was blamed not producing an heir yet, the fault lay with Peter, who had yet to consummate their union at that point because of a physical deformity that prevented him from doing the deed (although the deformity was one that could have been fixed fairly easily with surgery, but Peter was terrified of going under the knife.) Catherine's love of horses would much later lead to the infamous rumor that she was killed while trying to have sex with a horse (according to the story, the horse was supported above her with ropes, but the ropes broke and the horse crushed her to death.) In reality, she died of a stroke. No horses were involved.
Catherine often thought of herself as being more of a man than a woman. In her own words, “I was a true and faithful knight, with a mind infinitely more masculine than feminine.”
Author/Artist: inner_wings
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Russia, Catherine the Great, Empress Elizabeth; Russia/Catherine the Great
Rating: PG
Warnings: Cross-dressing
Summary: In which Russia is forced to wear a dress and isn't at all happy about it.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Russia knew it was important to learn how his various rulers ticked. Learn their strengths, learn their weaknesses, learn their unpleasant habits and tendencies so as to better avoid them. He was always very careful to never provoke his fourth Ivan's violent temper. He learned to not argue with Peter (his first, and greatest) about beards. And now with Elizabeth, it was vital to always make plans on Tuesday. They had to be good, convincing plans too. If he could come up with business outside Saint Petersburg, all the better. Lying didn't work, because Elizabeth somehow always saw through it. No, he needed a true, legitimate excuse for why he was too busy on Tuesday evenings to attend her masquerades.
He had been blessed with a lucky streak lately. He managed to avoid Tuesdays for a solid month. Perhaps the luck had lulled him into a false sense of security, because he failed to plan for the next Tuesday. He realized that careless error when Elizabeth approached him on Monday asking if he was coming to the Tuesday masquerade. And fool that he was, he had no excuse. He was trapped.
Russia honestly couldn't understand why Elizabeth loved these strange masquerades. If the theme had been anything else he might not have minded, but...Elizabeth's Tuesday masquerades were special. All the women were required to dress as men, and the men as woman. That was the rule. No one was exempt, not even Elizabeth's own nation.
With no way out (and it truly wasn't worth fighting with her over it,) he submitted to his fate the following day and tried to think happy thoughts while a servant helped him into a corset. As if the gown Elizabeth had ordered just for him wasn't humiliating enough, he had to wear the torturous underthings too. How did women stand such things? For that matter, how did they breathe? There didn't seem to be enough room in Russia's chest for ribs and lungs after he had been laced up, and even then he was assured that it was no where near as tight as the most fashionable ladies wore them! And people still wondered why he avoided the fashion trends, when half of them seemed out to kill the wearer.
The dress followed the corset and petticoats, and much as Russia loathed to have someone present to watch him struggle and wiggle his way into the thing, he had to admit that he couldn't have put it on without help. Women's clothes were so horrifically complicated, and he was afraid the fine material would tear under his clumsy hands. No matter how much he hated it, it was a well made dress, tailored to fit him perfectly, and in a shade of purple that Elizabeth told him matched his eyes. A light weight scarf of a paler shade of purple was included after Russia had flatly refused to go out with his neck exposed. Add a pair of satin slippers and a wig that was very nearly the same color as his real hair to the ensemble, and he was nearly done with that stage of the torture.
The last step was paints and powders for his face. Rouge had been added to his checks too, but there was little point to that when his face was already as red as Ukraine's homemade borscht. He glared at his reflection in the provided mirror, realized that he was pouting and pulled his lower lip back in until his expression looked less petulant and more quietly seething. It must have worked, because the servant hastily excused himself from the room and fled. Russia sighed wearily (which was no easy feat while wearing a corset) and looked back at the sorry sight in the mirror. He knew perfectly well that he wasn't a very attractive man, but he made a hideous woman. Every part of him was just too broad, and even the corset wasn't enough to make his body curve like a woman's should. It didn't help matters that he was...big. The irritating bit of extra weight that he could never lose was hidden easily enough in a man's clothes, but there was no disguising it in his dress. He gave the squishy part of his arm a mournful pinch and thought about feigning a sudden illness.
Not wanting to draw attention to himself by being late, Russia shuffled his way to the hall, trying to ignore the feeling of air between his legs. Few guests had arrived, and they all looked uncomfortable. Only Elizabeth seemed pleased with the spectacle. She was radiant in her ornate coat and breeches. Russia went through the usual motions of greeting her and complimenting her clothes before retreating to a corner where he could hopefully remain until the masquerade was over. More and more guests arrived, laughing sheepishly at their ridiculous wardrobes. Russia tried to make himself smaller. He had spent so much of his childhood wishing he could be big and tall, but now that he had his wish he found height and size to be overrated. It was handy if he wanted to intimidate someone, but it also made him stand out when he didn't want to stand out. He was at least a head over everyone in the room. Hiding was near impossible, unless he found something to crouch behind or duck under (which would be difficult when wearing a hoop skirt anyway.) He would have to endure the fact that everyone could easily see him, and no doubt they were secretly laughing-
“Good evening, fair lady.”
Russia whirled around, almost tripped over his own feet and looked down to see Catherine grinning playfully up at him as she stooped into a little bow. Russia saw Elizabeth watching them out of the corner of his eye, and quickly bobbed a curtsy that sent another wave of blood rushing up into his face.
“Don't tease, Catherine,” he moaned. Elizabeth was far enough away to be unable to overhear any complaining, but he kept his voice low all the same.
“Who was teasing? The dress matches your eyes perfectly.” Catherine rubbed her chin thoughtfully, nodding her approval at the color. Catherine looked remarkably good as a man, almost as good as Elizabeth. She resembled a beautiful young man in her breeches and waistcoat, and her chest was still small enough to be easily hidden by a loose shirt and some binding beneath. It hit Russia rather suddenly that he shouldn't have been thinking about Catherine's breasts when she was standing within arms length, and he shook his head to dislodge the thought. The movement almost knocked his wig off.
“Your Russian has gotten very good,” he said quickly to change the subject.
“Truly?” The compliment made Catherine's entire face light up. “Don't say it just to be kind, please. Flattery won't help me improve.”
“It is not flattery if it is true. And your German accent grows fainter by the day.”
The girl really did have a lovely smile. One could criticize her chin or her nose, but her smile was too radiant to find fault with.
“The empress has mentioned it to me as well,” Russia continued, eager to keep the smile from vanishing. “She said that you have learned our language remarkably fast. She is very pleased with you.”
To his dismay, Catherine's smile did fade slightly. “I'm afraid you haven't heard the latest, then. She isn't pleased with me at all these days. She scolded me the other day for riding my horse like a man.” The smile turned bitter. “She is worried riding like that will...damage me. So I won't be able to have children and produce an heir.”
And that was the most important thing, wasn't it? Princesses existed to be married off and produce heirs, and little else. No one cared if they didn't loved the man they were married to. No one cared if they weren't happy. It seemed a tragedy that someone like Catherine was chained down to such a life.
“Never mind that,” Catherine said hastily, glancing briefly in Elizabeth's direction. “I don't think I've asked but...” She turned back, her nose wrinkled slightly into a frown. “Ivan, what is your position here? Do you have a title?”
“Does it matter what I am?”
“No, but I was curious. You seem close to the empress, so I assumed that you must be someone fairly important. But I've never seen your name on any official documents, and I've never heard you announced with a title-”
“Let us say that I am a simple adviser, for now,” Russia interrupted hastily. So Catherine had noticed that something was strange about him. He shouldn't have been surprised. She was almost unnervingly observant at times.
Catherine grinned crookedly. “More secrets, then? I won't allow you to keep secrets from me when I'm the empress.”
“You are an ambitious little one, aren't you? Very well, I will tell you all my secrets when you are empress.”
“Do you promise? I will be most displeased if you go back on your word.” Catherine's eyes were clear and unyielding.
“I promise.” And he did. He always made it his business to tell every freshly coronated emperor and empress about what he really was. Peter was next in line for the throne, of course, but there could be little harm in letting his wife in on the secret too, when that day came.
Catherine's smile had thankfully returned at that. “I will hold you to it. And now, I'm afraid the empress has been watching us for a while now. We ought to dance, I think.”
Russia's face tried to turn deathly pale and beat red at the same time, and ended up blotchy. “No. No. No, no, no. I refuse.”
“It's what she expects,” Catherine protested, seizing Russia's hand and tugging at it. “And I can't afford to upset her any more. She'll be glad to see us playing along tonight. And they're playing a waltz now. A waltz won't be too difficult, will it?”
Russia wanted to gather up his skirts and flee the room, but Catherine's slim hands held more power than he gave them credit for, and he found himself being helplessly pulled out of his corner. Giving in, he let his hands hover awkwardly before resting his left stiffly on her shoulder. She giggled lightly and let one tiny hand curve around his hip, grasping his right hand in her left. Their difference in height made the position awkward, but Catherine only smiled and said, “Follow my lead.”
Historical Notes:
Empress Elizabeth did indeed have masquerades on Tuesdays where the women dressed as men and the men dressed as women. Catherine didn't like them, but since she wanted to stay on the temperamental empress' good side, she tried to act like she enjoyed them. Later when she became empress, she did away with the practice.
Catherine loved horses, and rode for fun almost her entire life. She preferred to ride like a man instead of a woman, which caused a bit of a stir at court and angered Elizabeth, who thought that might have been part of the reason why Catherine hadn't gotten pregnant yet. Although Catherine was blamed not producing an heir yet, the fault lay with Peter, who had yet to consummate their union at that point because of a physical deformity that prevented him from doing the deed (although the deformity was one that could have been fixed fairly easily with surgery, but Peter was terrified of going under the knife.) Catherine's love of horses would much later lead to the infamous rumor that she was killed while trying to have sex with a horse (according to the story, the horse was supported above her with ropes, but the ropes broke and the horse crushed her to death.) In reality, she died of a stroke. No horses were involved.
Catherine often thought of herself as being more of a man than a woman. In her own words, “I was a true and faithful knight, with a mind infinitely more masculine than feminine.”
no subject
And Catherine continues to be awesome. ^o^
no subject
:D I'm glad you finally got around to writing a new installment! Can't wait for the next one!
no subject
no subject
Hm, not sure what to do next...maybe her very first lover and how she got knocked up by him. SCANDALOUS.
Russia will not be pleased about that.no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Oh God, flushed Russia in a purple dress is cute as hell.
I can't wait for continuation.
no subject
And crossdressing!Russia is awfully fun to write. :DThanks!
no subject
Though I think that Catherine liked Russia as a state and not so much as a people. During her reign the burdens of serfdom only increased =(
Catherine was good for the nobility, but not for the peasantry. (And the peasantry is the largest part of Russian people of that period.)
By the way, what years of 18 century is represented in this chapter? Because I think that waltz was not a part of the ball dances at that time ^^ (maybe I'm wrong)