Привет, This is my first uploaded fanfic and I truly wish you'll like it. I can accept critics, but please be gentle. I still have not decided if Belarus will be Russia's or America's yet. I will leave the voting to you. Seriously. I'm not sure if this fanfic will get a lot of favs and comments, but if you happen to review, please add a vote. I also have a personal rule—that is every chapter should be minimum of 3000 words. I'm pretty sure I won't be able to update pretty soon, since I'll be attending my freshman year at college this June. So I hope my long chapters will pay for that. By the way, the POVs, is just mixed up. I like to go from one character's POV, to another.

I do not own Hetalia, and this is entirely fan-made.That's why it's called a fanfiction.

WHEN THE COLD WAR GETS PERSONAL

-Chapter One-

America let out a startled gasp as he woke up in darkness. He developed some sort of fear, because he was alone in the dark, in the huge conference room, at the middle of the night. He yawned and stretched. He was still seated on his seat, and clearly abandoned. Why didn't anyone woke him up when the meeting ended up hours ago? The countries were probably playing a prank on him. He grunted at the thought.

Just as he thought that he was completely alone at the building, he heard two pairs of footsteps, one lighter than the other. Ghosts? A sudden pang of fear enveloped his mind. Then he heard miserable girlish crying. The voice was almost familiar, yet he never heard that cry. Another male voice though, America heard speaking in a tongue he did not know. "Natalia!" the voice belonged to Russia, he was certain, although the tone of his voice was unfamiliar to him—guilt, concern and grief?

Natalia Arlovskaya entered the conference room, wearing her usual navy blue dress but her expression was not hers, almost looking like a different person. America hadn't seen much of her since the Cold War ended except when she attends the regular meetings and sometimes messing with her brother. He could still remember her faces clearly, especially the time when she was fighting off Germany and she mistook America for an enemy. Her eyes gleamed with violent anger, her smile apathetic though sometimes evilly grinning. Her clothes were always soaked with blood from fallen enemies and daggers were almost a part of her fingers. She looked so wicked back at those days, yet nevertheless beautiful. America mentally face-palmed himself remembering a distant memory when she went in combat with him, when he fought her gun versus knives—he remembered when he was stunned for a second, frozen on his tracks as he gazed upon her, straddling him in the ground and holding a knife, in attempt to cut his throat. He remembered the feel of his cheeks burning as she involuntarily seduced him. She never changed, even as the war between them was over. He even tried to make friends with her, but she was too cold for him to soften. Now she looked terrible—broken-down and miserable, weak and helpless.

She buried her face in her hands and melted to the ground, sobbing more loudly. She did not notice the American standing a few distances in front of her, coated in the darkness. It was not long when Ivan Braginski followed her and took a few seconds to catch his breath. He looked terrible as well. His brows were furrowed in concern, his mouth frowning in a way of grief, his eyes guilty. He knelt beside his sister and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Natalia, don't cry—please don't cry." Russia's voice was comforting and echoing with guilt. "I'm so sorry."

"Take it back, brother!" Belarus shouted, her tone angry. "Take back what you said to me!"

"Natalia, it can't happen. I'm sorry, I truly am." Russia sighed. "I have no romantic love for you or for anyone else. You're my precious sister, and I love you much, though not as much you want. But, we can't always get what we want…"

They're talking about the marriage thing again, America thought, concerned as well. He was aware of Belarus' love for her brother, and aware that he did not love her back. He observed from before, that Russia just lets his sister harass him, since he really can't do anything. He can't threaten her because she's his sister, and he always had a bond with her. He loved her yes, but not enough for Belarus.

Belarus turned her back on Russia and shrugged his hand off her shoulder. "I need you, do you not understand? I've been struggling to keep strong and keep both my feet planted on the ground since 1991, brother! Those old days from the Soviet Union, and days from longer before that, you've always been there for me. You've been my savior and the post that kept me standing on. I just want you back, and to make it last forever, is that too much to ask for?"

"You must understand, Natalia, I am always here for you." Russia's voce dropped a tone lower. "I will protect you from those who wish to harm you and be your solid foundation, but all that process can be done without tying knots. I can't marry you, Natalia. I'm sorry I cannot return your love. Just don't ask again, my answer will always be the same. I will never marry you. Please, calm down and understand."

"No!" Belarus yelled. "No I won't! Leave me alone!"

"Belarus, don't push me away," Russia's lids dropped.

"Isn't that what you want? Fine, I'll leave your side forever. It would be like I never existed." Belarus sobbed. "Just go away. GO AWAY!"

"Belarus, you know that's not what I intend. At least let me take you home safely." Russia was to grab her hand but she pulled it away. "Please."

"I'm fine on my own! Leave me be."

"Belarus, I can't—"

"JUST GO! I don't want to be with you anymore. I want to stay here far from you."

Russia surrendered. "And where are you going to stay here in New York? How can you live a stranger in this foreign country? Please, let me take you back to your home."

"I don't want to go, Russia." She addressed him formally and did not call him Ivan, or brother. "I want to stay away from you and end this silly story. I want a break from hurt. So please, leave." She was sobbing, and she was struggling to find any dignity left. She wanted him so bad, America knew. She forced herself to get mad at him, because she did not know what to do. She can't beg for him to marry her now.

"Belarus, be reasonable—"

"Hey, Russia." America felt the need to interrupt. He stepped out of the darkness and revealed himself to the light coming from the other room. "I can take care of your sister if she wants to stay here."

Both countries turned and glared at him, Belarus with puffy eyes, and Russia with a hurt look which quickly turned deadly. Belarus gasped for air while he stood up abruptly. "Why are you here?" His voice stern.

Alfred gave a shrug. "I just woke up—fell asleep in the meeting, but never mind about that. If the lady doesn't want to go, you can't make her to. I can help. I promise to be hospitable and I can even take her on a tour on every State."

"Why should I trust my sister to you?" Russia's eyes were raged. Purple irises almost turning to indigo.

America ignored that. "I'm the hero, remember? Besides, I can't let her off alone in a country she's unfamiliar with…and I can't let her stay with you, judging from your, ah, situation."

"You know nothing, scow—"

"I'll go with America!" Belarus yelled. "I want to go with him." America's attention was momentarily shifted to Belarus alone. He knew that she only agreed to go with him, is that because of Ivan. He knew she didn't like him, or his country. But at that moment, America was almost happy that someone would want to be in this star-spangled country.

Russia looked down at his sister, her face hidden behind strands of blonde hair. His expression softened as he knelt down beside her again, "as you wish." He brushed his fingers through her blonde locks. "I do hope you'd understand, sweet sister. Stay safe." He kissed her forehead and left.

Her gaze followed him out, and after, tears obscured her vision again, and she started to cry once more. She loved her brother so much why can't he love her back? Isn't she enough? What does he want from a girl anyway? Belarus only been too pushy because she's completely obsessed with him, and now she's in the condition she believes that is called desperation. A word she's familiar with, almost a scar to forever remain with her. She felt lame and stupid to get herself rejected. Of course she was always get rejected by Russia every day, but tonight he made it final. That's what Belarus cannot accept. She was always asking—no forcing him every day to marry him, since it was the only thing she could think of to say. He doesn't talk to her unless she does—and every day, she believes it a new start, and every day she would lie to herself that Russia would change his mind and finally agree to their marriage. Things never stay the same forever, she thought—but there is also a saying that some things never change. What is she to believe?

It doesn't matter anymore; she gave up and raised her white flag.

By the time her eyes open, she saw America knelt down in front of her, his handkerchief wiping the tears that dripped from her eyes. "Shhh, hey, don't cry. I'm here for you." Belarus felt weak, and hopeless, and not herself. Even this man she barely knows came to her aid and helped her. What is his reason? They never talked for years, or care of each other's existence, yet he helped her like she was a friend of his. "Hey, if you still feel like crying it out, you have my shoulder." He made an unexpected move, extending his arms and reaching for Belarus; he pulled her close to him and rested her head gently on his shoulder. Belarus tensed at the touch and gesture, trying to break from his hold, but he was too strong. Any man who tried to touch her, she will torture, but she is not Belarus tonight. Instead, what she felt though, a comforting warmth she found alluring, the kind of warmth her brother radiated. Finally she gave up, and her body relaxed and she willingly sobbed on his shoulder.

America felt her tension fade, but his own body stiffened, and his face burned. He stroked her back continuously as to comfort her, and then his heart raced. He loosened his hold, so she would not feel his heart's beating and hide the sudden attraction.

"Why?" Belarus mumbled on his shoulder between sobs. "Why did you help me? I am no friend of yours. I was an enemy, and I tried to spill your blood before. Why are you kind?"

America blushed harder. He had to think of his words before he replied, "I'm the hero, remember that. You looked so beaten. I cannot refuse the opportunity to help my fellow countries, especially a maid like you—" Oh no, I did not say that. He swallowed. "I mean, it's my job to keep peace and help countries all over the world! And um…and well, because I can't just leave you alone here while you're crying, besides I like to be your friend again, since you're one of the few countries I don't talk to much. Would you give me another chance?"

For a heartbeat, America saw a silhouette on the edge of the door of the room, a bloodcurdling and disturbing figure that can only belong to Russia. What is he still doing here? America looked closely and saw his eyes, glaring with violence and rage. He quickly hid away from America's sight. I'm ignoring that, America thought.

Belarus did not reply or talk anymore, she stopped crying for now, but her broken heart is still far from healing. Her hands grabbed his sleeves and gripped at them hard, until her hands shook. She lifted her head and looked at Alfred. Her eyes were red from crying and her lips curled to a frown. America could tell she was only trying not to cry, and will do it once she's alone. "Hey, c'mon, let's get out here. I happen to be staying in a condo here in Manhattan. Let' go."

Belarus only nodded. When America stood and offered a hand, she took it reluctantly. She still had not decided to trust this country. She knew almost nothing about him now. Yet still, she ran away from her brother and promised him that he would never feel her presence again. Where is she to go? She can't come home yet, nor to Ukraine's or Lithuania's Estonia's or Latvia's. It way too close to memories, and her brother. She wanted days, months or maybe years away from him. Maybe if she wouldn't see him, she'll forget all about him, and finally end this heartbreak. Where else is she to go then? She limits herself from contact with the other countries, developing such a repelling aura, so they'll stay away. She's still afraid that one of these countries might invade her lands again, and hurt her. Who else is she to turn to but America? She has to go with him.

"Awesome." He now offered his arm to her, and she was hesitant. "Hey, I'm just afraid you might fall down any minute, so let me be your guide." He smiled dazzlingly. Belarus did not want to do such gesture, but he was right. She needed a solid post. Her knees were trembling and her body was still unhealthy from the shock. She dropped her eyes and shyly curled her arm around his. He led her out the building and to his sports car while talking all the way. Belarus knew he was only trying to make things less awkward and maybe try to cheer her up a bit, but it did not work. She did not listen to him, since she was too busy listening to her thoughts, playing the scene in her head, the scene where Ivan hurt her, and did this over and over again.

"Bela? Yo, Bela, earth to Belarus."

"Huh?" Belarus snapped out of her thoughts. Alfred was waving his hand in front of her face.

"Oh good, now we can go." He opened the car door for Belarus, "here you go, m'lady!" he said cheerfully. Belarus slipped in the passenger seat while America closed the door and got in to the driver's seat. "Alright, I'll give you a tour on New York while we make our way to Fifth Avenue."

America drove around New York, taking the longest routes. He showed her the Statue of Liberty, a peace offering from France, the Empire State building, and where the twin towers once stood. His knowledge about the facts was amazing, and even more amazing was the view of New York at night. Belarus had been to New York several times before, especially when the United Nations held a meeting, but she never really enjoyed it as a tourist. America promised to go to different spots on New York the next day, and Belarus was almost happy about that. She once told him though, that she hated his country because his people mistrusts hers, but, she could not deny the views America had to offer. The view did distract her momentarily from Russia, but only for a short while. Later on, her mind slipped off to her personal torture chamber again, and completely forgotten about New York.

Her eyes flew open once she felt the car stop. "Here we are," America announced. The car was already parked on a spot on an underground parking lot. Judging from the candy wrappers and Macdonalds' trash, Belarus guessed this was America's spot and his spot only. "C'mon, my room's on the top floor, so the view's excellent! We can even sneak up the roof top."

"Hmm? Sure…"

"C'mon, Bela, don't be shy," he grabbed her hand and pulled her along the elevator. He pushed the button and they waited as he still held her hand. "So, are we friends now? Or still have to sign some papers of our peace?"

Belarus hid her face under her hair as she blushed a little. "Um…okay. But one wrong move, or I may have to kill you."

"Eh?" He sounded scared, but still remained in contact with her hand. "I thought that was Russia's job…" he noticed how she slumped and sighed in grief, and he knew he hit a nerve just by mentioning Russia. "Hey, I'm sorry…look, just forget about it and—oh, it's here…?"

The elevator doors opened, and to their surprise, a man and a woman were locked in an intimate kiss. When the couple heard the "ding" sound, they broke the kiss, and straighten their clothes. The man turned, and he was the familiar well-dressed French, who always been a former easy target to Germany—"France?"

"Ah, there you are, Jones. I've been waiting for you since 8 this evening for I have news to say. But instead, I found this fine mademoiselle, and we had so much fun!"

"Okay, dude, too much information."

France giggled. "I guess our talk can wait for tomorrow."

"I can't. I'm busy."

"Then…" France noticed the girl hiding behind America's back. "Is that…Russia's sister?"

"Yes," America's voice dropped to a whisper, "and don't mention Russia to her."

"Hmmm? I can see your holding her hand—and you both are going to your room, yes? Oh, I am so posting this on the U.N. webpage!"

America blushed. "No, dude! You got the wrong idea! I'm only—"

"Hello there, Ms. Natalia," France called. "You look beautiful tonight, mademoiselle. Though, what's with the sad face?"

Belarus sighed. "It is nothing."

"Well, I hope this fellow right here can make your troubles go away. You will help her, right, America?" France grinned.

America stammered. "Dude, j-just get out of t-the freaking elevator already!"

"He…" Belarus addressed France. "He did promise to help."

France giggled, "mæg'nɪfɪsən!" He patted America on the back and kissed Belarus' hand. "Good luck you two!" he put an arm around the girl he found and walked away.

America was scratching his head. "S-Sorry about that…"

Belarus let go of America's hand to block the elevator door before it closed. "Let's go."

They got in the elevator, and the situation was beyond awkward. America stared at the ground to hide his blushing. I'm standing in an elevator with Belarus, America thought. What's it with elevators? It was a long way up to the top floor, and no one seemed to get in the elevators with them. Why are elevators such an aphrodisiac? The walls of the elevator was covered in mirrors and America took a glance on one the mirrors to look at Belarus. She was staring at her fingers, where she was holding a knife. America swore that was the knife she tried to kill him with way back during when Germany fought the Soviet Union. She looked on her side of the mirrors and caught America staring at her. "Hey Bela, do you mean to use that on me again?"

It took her four floors to reply. "I still don't trust you, but you're all I have at the moment…"

"Hey, I'm your hero, remember that."

"I don't need a hero."

America did not know what to reply, especially since that is what she said before, when she left the States. Judging by the current situation, she does need a hero. America frowned by thinking that he may not be the hero she needs. The elevator doors finally open to his room, "ah, here we are." America gestured for her to come in.

The first thing Belarus saw was the huge American flag hanging vertically from ceiling, an inch before touching the floor. The American bald eagle hanged from the top of the flag, looking majestic. Next she saw were the huge glass windows covering two corners of the room, revealing a magnificent view of Manhattan. Next was the huge flat screen TV accompanied by two huge stereos on both sides, and a gaming device below that. Stacks of albums and DVDs were alphabetically ordered and put in a glass compartment on top of the TV. She saw the red and white striped couch with blue throw pillows star-spangled with fifty white stars. The coffee table was decorated with the map of the United States placed over the glass. The walls were covered in navy blue paint, which Belarus found appealing.

"So… isn't this a total kickass or what?" America grinned while Belarus marveled.

"It is very appealing."

"Yeah." America scratched his head. "Hey, um…want dinner?"

Belarus sadly shook her head. "No, I'm not hungry."

America picked up his phone and dialed a number. "Of course you are!" He grinned. "I don't have any ingredients left in the fridge so I'll just order food service is that okay?"

"Um…no, thank you."

"Oh c'mon, Bela, please?" He paused for a while, just staring at her, waiting for an answer. The woman on the phone picked up saying something like "Good evening, ma'am/sir. How may I help you?" America ignored the person on the other side of the line and will pursue on doing it until Belarus give a response. America is still very much the same. He still uses those cute blue eyes on her, so she couldn't say no. "Hello? Ma'am? Sir?"

"Fine." Belarus sighed.

"Great!" America grinned, like he always does. "Um…yeah, hello? Can I ask for room service at this time of the night? Yes…I'd like to order um…do you have fast food? You don't! Uh…fine, I'll have one of those…roasted chicken? Yeah, and whatever the side dishes. You do have soda, right? Good. Wait—Hey, Bela, what do you like to eat?"

"Anything I guess."

"Okay…say, make that two." He hung up. "Hey Bela…you up for Martinis?"

"Hm? Yeah, whatever."

"Right! I'll be right back." He went inside a glass door, and she guessed it may had been the kitchen. She followed him inside and found that it was a mini bar. Different assortments of liquor were displayed behind a glass. Wine and shot glassed of different shapes and sizes hung upside down on one compartment. To her left, she saw a stairway, leading up to another room. America was behind the bar counter preparing her a drink. "Hey. Do you like it?"

"Yes." She seated herself on the chair across the bar table. She watched him mix and shake the liquor. When he was satisfied, he poured colorless liquid on a tall wine glass, placed a mini umbrella and served it to Belarus. "Here you go, mademoiselle."

Belarus smiled at the comment, remembering France. Quickly did it fade though, but still, a smile nonetheless. She took sips of Martini and soon enough the glass was empty. "More?"

"Tsk Tsk." America smirked. "Fine, but will be the last." He made her another drink, and she gulped down like it was water. "Whoa, Bela, easy on the liquor." He watched her fidget with the glass. She made a "tch" sound and America laughed. "Do you remember the times you tched me like that? If I have a nickel for every time, I would come up with quite a sum."

"Ah, I do not like to cling to the past."

"I thought you said you would like to go back to the days of your childhood. When Ukraine and Russia was with you."

Her face gloomed. "Yes, I guess I would like to go back to only those memories."

"Bela?" America leaned toward her on the table. "I know it's not my position to say this, but, maybe you should just try and forget. There's no use in forcing a person to love you…you'll just get hurt."

Belarus blushed and refused to look him in the eye. "It's not easy. You don't even understand how it feels! To get rejected every damn day by the person you love. To always be ignored and endured. He never talks to me anymore, these past few months. Only little does he talk…I…" a tear escaped her eyes.

"But I do understand, Bela." He stroked her cheek and turned her head slightly to face him. "Took me a few centuries to finally love a girl, you know. Bela, do you really not remember anything?"

Warm tear dripped on the hand he placed on her cheek. He wiped his thumb over her tears. "I stabbed you in the heart! I tried to kill you and hurt you several times after your government distrusted my country." Her voice broke. "You should hate me…! You deserve someone much better—far better."

"Is that what Russia told you? That you deserve better?" He sighed. "Maybe you do." He leaned over to kiss her, but before he can, the elevator doors beeped.

"Room service…" a man called.

Neither of them moved. They let a minute pass, then another while still frozen. "Um…right, I'll just leave it here…" the man who brought them their food announced and later the sound of the elevators closing. Belarus stared at Alfred's startling blue eyes and seemed to melt down as he fixed unblinking eyes at her. Her whole body tensed and leaned back. "LET GO!" She threatened him with a knife softly touching his throat.

At the feel of the cold steel, America leaned back away. "I'm sorry, Bela…I just got carried away…" he raised his hands in surrender. What am I doing? America mentally scolded himself. Idiot! You know she'll never stop loving that bastard brother of hers. She only got her heart broken what were you thinking? "I'll get dinner."

Belarus sheathed her knife under her skirt. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but if you do something like that again, I won't hesitate to kill you."

America was stupefied momentarily, and then slowly, his lips formed that grin once more. "Ah, that's the Bela I know and love!" He left the room to prepare their dinner, and once alone, his grin dropped and frowned. No matter what I do, she still won't understand what I feel.

Belarus was so confused. She was thankful that America's presence distracted her, even only a slight distraction from Russia. America was the same. He never changed since 1991; he was still nice to her. What has she done to deserve his hospitality? It was 1991, she was alone and a mess, but her former enemy, took her under his wing and prepared her to be independent. He was the reason that she was alone in the first place, so whatever he had done to befriend her, she would deny and reject. In the end, she couldn't even repay him. She can't give him what he asked of her, partly because she still wanted to be with Russia, partly because she had a hard time believing, even now. No one wanted her before, what is so special about her to be wanted? She wouldn't believe it; he was only toying with her. "Brother, you don't want me too, da?" She wiped a tear.

It was a moment later when America came in with the food. He served her, but Belarus would not eat. She only used the table knife to stab the chicken breast. America was almost done with his food while Belarus hadn't taken bite from her plate. "Hey Bela, can I have some of that chicken?"

"Uh, yeah, whatever."

He reached and cut a portion of the meat and pierced the fork through. He leaned forward again, cupping Belarus face and shoved the meat in her mouth. "Chew," he commanded. Belarus hesitated. "Chew or I'll do it for you." Panicked by what that meant, she chewed and swallowed. "Good. Now I'm going to take a shower. If that's not finished by the time I came, I…" he trailed off and went upstairs, leaving the Belarusian to decipher what that meant.

It was an hour or more when Alfred came down. Showering and changing took him only a few minutes, but cleaning his room took a lot of time. He tried to make it as presentable as possible in a short period of time, shoving trash and books, paperwork, and dirty laundry under the bed. When he was about to fetch her, he saw her passed out, sleeping on the bar table. He saw that she'd eaten most of her dinner, but a near empty bottle vodka beside her meant she was drinking. How'd she even drink that fast? Alfred examined the bottle, and knew that that was the strongest vodka he owned. Not only that, but she etched a Russian phrase on the mahogany counter, probably using one of her knives. "проклинаю это сердце." Sighing, he carried her up his arms, and laid her to his king-size bed. She tucked her in the right side of the bed, far from the left, where he'll be sleeping. Belarus sighed in her sleep, and Alfred couldn't help to smile at how cute she looked. He brushed strands of her blonde hair away from her face and kissed her nose. A disappointment, since he knew that's how close as he could get.

"Goodnight, sweet Natalia."

Slumber found its way toward Alfred, but sweet slumber only lasted a few, for loud shatters of brittle objects woke him up. He wondered if Belarus was going crazy for what her brother did to her, but when he switched on his lamp, he found her sleeping at the far end of the bed. Then, who was trashing his apartment? He hurriedly went downstairs to see who the intruder was and give him a piece of his mind. Holding a pistol on his hand, he sneaked up to the living room, where more shattering was heard. A strong scent of alcohol made Alfred wrinkle his nose. Someone's been messing with his vintage! He let himself be in full view, with the gun in front of him, just in case.

"Ah! I knew you'd wake."

Alfred's jaw dropped. Purple eyes, gleaming with anger and an open gateway to his soul, and all you can see is the dark depth of his evil nature, or so at least, toward Alfred. "Russia? What the hell, man? You think you can barge in here wasting my precious vintage? You'll pay for that," Alfred yelled.

Ivan's mouth formed a sweet smile, yet it did not match the eyes that crave for bloodlust. "Where is my sister?" He stood from where he sat, knocking down three cocktails from three table with his pipe. "That makes twenty-seven, but who's counting?"

"Dude, just get lost! If trespassing is legal in Russia, well, it sure isn't here."

"So what? You'll call the police?" Russia said in a mocking voice. "Again I ask—where is my sister?"

"She's asleep."

"She must be drunk to be sleeping through all the noises." He knocked down a tequila. "Hmm…" He reached down for the bottle Belarus was drinking earlier. "This is her favorite. Did you get my sister drunk, Jones? What did you do to her?" He crushed the bottle with his fist. "Tell me if you've bedded my sweet sister, so then I won't hesitate to drain all your blood and discard it on the pointy end of the Empire State building."

This man must be crazy. "Just so you know, she'd gotten herself drunk, and did it without my consent." He swallowed. "And you know the hero won't take advantage of a helpless maiden, idiot!"

Russia's eyes narrowed. "That is silly." He used the faucet end of his pipe to swat the gun out of America's hand. "You are no hero and you Americans are not trustworthy." Again, with the end of his weapon, he pinned America on the wall, suffocating as the faucet pressed hard on his throat. "I don't want you having an affair with my sister, do you understand?"

Choking, America gripped on the pipe and tried to loosen it a bit. He managed a few words, "u-unless she wants to."

Russia clearly did not like that answer. He repositioned the faucet, so it was now on the back of America's neck, gave a hard yank, and America fell on the floor. "You will not harm or touch her. If you do, I'll scrape out the stars on your flag—all fifty of them."

America saw his pistol on the floor beside him. He rolled towards it and once it was pointed to the Russian's head, he pulled the trigger. Ivan only swatted the bullet away from him with his pipe, and redirected it on the floor beside Alfred.

"Natalia wants to be in this dump you call a country, in a sorry excuse to get away from me—"

"Yeah, I'd do the same too, if I was her."

"Shut your mouth. Can you see I am not done? Now, I can't stop her. You will accompany her, take her under you wing, like you used to—and which I did not like a bit before, much less now." He knocked down another bottle. "Anyway, you will take care of her until she is ready to go home, and come back to me. You will consider my terms, da?"

"More like threats."

"Terms, threats, it means the same to me. Now, remember my words, Jones," Russia smirked. "My sister is too precious for a country like you. If you have any ideas, I'll revive the Soviet Union once again, and relive the Cold War. Now, I'm pretty sure my sister will side with me."

"We'll see."

Russia looked at him with those dark purple eyes, which was alike and quite unlike Bela's eyes, when it gleamed with thirst for blood. Hers was still pretty and hypnotizing, but her brother's like the empty sockets of where the Reaper's once had been. It's freaking creepy!

"Jones, just don't take my sister away from me, you understand?"

Alfred only gave a nod. He watched him smirked, and took a bottle of vodka and left. That was fast. Russia was very straight to the point, but he missed a fact. War will certainly be against the leaders of Russia, Ukraine, Belarus and the Baltics. If Ivan Braginski would force a war, despite the leaders' hesitation, he would rebuild Communism again. That's going to be bad, and will be a huge headache for America. Last time, he had the upper hand, since the Soviet Union was still rebuilding while the U.S.A had the money and the supplies. Now, he knew the Russians were prepared for an unexpected war. If it's going to be war, it's going to be a fifty-fifty. Ivan is prepared to break the rules, but Alfred so? Would he take the risk of that just for Belarus? America grunted, "What the hell is wrong with that man?"

-end of chapter one-

проклинаю это сердце- curse this heart. (google translate isn't very accurate, so I don't know if this is correct Russian)

My special thanks to PandaHanChina-chan (Deviantart account) for the drawing "Bloody Belarus" for this series. Awesome work, Panda-chan. Anyway, I would've drawn Belarus myself, but, I'm too lazy. As for the Words America used in the summary, those belonged to Electyfyingx (Youtube account). Thank you Electriyingx. You guys should check out his video—they're awesome.

So, what do you guys think? I hope you review, and tell me about your thoughts. I hope you don't think it's lame—cause I do. I've posted this on with the same title (username: SunakoAeris), just so you guys know.