Daughter Of The Revolution: Again, sorry for the horrible delay with this (I am one lazy authoress). But yays! Finally! Last chapter. Thank you all who stayed with me, I know this was a bumpy ride and all, but your love for this kept me going, it really did. I know this fanfic isn't the greatest of greats in the RusAme fandom, but I hope you readers will treasure this piece I wrote out of love for the couple and their beautifully tragic history.

Alas we come to an end with this whopper. If you like it, great, if you don't, well, I've already had this curious ending planned out since starting this fic back last year so I'm not rewriting :P Can honestly say I probably won't be writing something this long again, with your love for this fic I've also received a lot of strife from some haters that I just don't appreciate, haha. But, if anyone thinks they enjoy what I write, feel free to send me a message with any possible oneshot requests or prompts. It's the least I can do for such a backing for this story. Really, you guys were some of the best fans I've seen out of any of the fandoms I've been engrossed in. Thanks again, and enjoy this last chapter to Promised to Me!

Russia woke with a start. His eyes shot wide open and his body lurched forward, knocking over pillows and ruffling sheets. His entire body seeped sweat, sending a chill throughout his limbs, making them lock and tremble.

In and out he breathed. He understood he was afraid, frightened, terrified, but the wonder of why had left Russia the moment he stilled himself. When his wide eyes eventually looked up after a sensing pull he froze altogether.

There before him, just as frozen as he, was America. The younger had just slipped on a boot, his foot still raised while he looked back at him, those blue eyes as wide as Russia's. The confusion inside Russia bubbled over and finally he spoke.

"A-Amerika?" Russia noticed the younger nation's lips moving. And if he spied correctly, it looked as if America had silently said the word, "Dammit," before stomping his foot to the ground and coming toward him.

"Did you have another nightmare?" America asked when he slid down onto the bed and sat himself close to Russia.

The older was still swimming in confusion, now more so at why America was sitting so close to him, his hip touching his own, and why he was reaching out, running his fingers through his matted sandy locks.

America sighed, shaking his head and looking at Russia with concern in his soft glowing eyes. "This happens every night it seems, huh?"

Russia's lips quivered. He could hear America's words as clear as day. He could feel America's touch as if he were really real.

Before Russia even understood himself, he reached out and wrapped his arms around the nation, pulling him to collide chests. Russia's head fell down into the younger's neck junction and he honestly felt he wanted to cry. America felt so warm, so full of life, and so very there with him.

Russia nearly flinched when he felt America's hands press against his back, embracing him in return. The gentle massage was nice and slowly Russia began to calm himself and just relax into the embrace of America.

"There, there," America patted. "I am here, you can hold me and feel." America then pulled back a little, his smile still on his face while he took a hold of one of Russia's arms and pulled it from around him only to take his hand and press it against his firm sternum. "Feel that?"

Russia focused his attention on the feel of a thumping organ beating as strong as it was healthy. After a little while a sense of warmth trailed into Russia's palm, expanding throughout his fingers and then rushing down his wrist, up his forearm, shoulder, chest, and then settling in his heart. He felt his own organ pick up pace, awaken as it matched America's beat.

Russia smiled and nodded as he leaned in and pressed his forehead against America's collarbone. He remained in silence and in America's presence, taking in him being there with him, taking in the bond of their synchronized hearts.

Russia felt America chuckle as he said, "I guess it's officially impossible for me to slip away before you wake up."

Russia turned to look up at America curiously, but the other nation didn't seem to mind his blank stare in the slightest. Instead he moved away again, offering another warm tight embrace before pulling the sheets off of Russia's lap.

"Come on, up and at 'em," America motivated. "If you want, you can come with me. The boys found an amazing find. I'm excited about it myself. Was going to go alone and let you sleep in, but we really can't separate for long, huh?"

America combed his fingers through Russia's hair once more before letting his hands fall back to his sides. He looked utterly happy and content, and if Russia wasn't mistaken he was looking at him with quite a large amount of affection.

Russia had no intention on moving, especially not when his mind was still stalled. But slowly he looked down at his state of dress and understood it to be lacking. With hands reaching down he went to pull the sheets back over himself to create some sort of dignity. But again he heard America chuckling and so he looked back toward him.

"It's not like I haven't seen it all before. Come on, don't keep me waiting any more. I really want to head out there." Once more America pulled the sheets from Russia and tossed them off the bed. Afterwards he turned on his heel and headed out of the room. "I'll be waiting out in the lobby."

With that Russia was alone.

A sadness fell over him and he realized that it was because America had left him. The sensational feeling was manageable but it certainly gave him a motivation to stand up and find something appropriate to wear.

Coming to his wardrobe, Russia stopped to take in the room. It was a large room, filled with many detailed furnish and other exquisite pieces such as gem-encrusted chests, golden sword ornaments, and marbled pillars. It reminded Russia of his imperial days, but all at once the things he viewed looked . . . different.

From what he understood was the wardrobe opened under his pull. He reached inside and grabbed an outfit. Just by holding it and feeling its texture, Russia knew that it was only one piece of clothing. There were other things to put on, sashes, gems, epaulettes, woven and braided golden silk and ribbons.

It was all common and habitual in Russia's mind now. Just at holding these formal pieces Russia began to understand his rank in the world unraveling around him.

Russia was the highest ranking nation.

Yes, of course Russia was. Why had he thought otherwise? The more Russia awoke, wiping the sleep from the previous night's slumber from his eyes, the more his fear settled, the more his part in this world came into light.

Russia dressed himself as he was certain he had been for thousands upon thousands of years. There was a large mirror next to the changing quarter and when he turned he examined himself.

"What's taking you forever, Ivan?" Russia turned to see the door pushed open. America returned and he didn't look so pleased with having been kept waiting, but when those blue eyes of his landed on him he tsked and shook his head. "Wardrobe malfunction, huh?" America trotted up to him and instantly began fixing a few things Russia had misplaced in a bout of forgetfulness. "There you go. Every bit representation of the Grand Russo International Republic."

Russia observed the changes America made to his attire and at the mention of the name he felt a familiarity arise inside him. All he had to do was focus on that tinging familiar recall, but when his eyes took in America he found himself smiling and then reaching out to tug at the simple attire he was wearing.

"And you do not wear clothing suitable for your title, States of the American Republic." The words came easier now. Speaking to America was becoming habitual, and Russia seemed to understand why, even when he was a little baffled by it himself.

America batted Russia's pulling hand away and slid a step back so he was safely out of reach of anymore tease. "I know. But I'll just get the clothing dirty anyway. Come on, I really want to go and explore the exuviation sight!"

Russia understood his internal upset over America not heeding his wish to dress more professional when making a public appearance, but he could not say, "no," to the younger nation—especially when it was so early in the morning. So, Russia let the offense slip once and accompanied America while they traveled to the sight.

They got to their desired destination fairly quick thanks to their mode of transportation. It reminded Russia of an airplane, but this was solar-powered and its build slightly different as well as its functioning. Russia smiled, knowing that the advancements upon the planet were great achievements accomplished through patience and unity. There would be more inventions to revolution their already advanced world, and Russia felt an excitement knowing he would see them all.

When they landed America was the first to jump out and race toward his people who were the ones to make such a discovery. Russia followed behind at a more controlled place. It was nice to see America's enthusiasm about the exploration, especially when his face lit up in awe at the sheer unexpected find.

"This . . . this . . . is amazing!" America jumped up in excitement. He looked like he wanted to run toward it, but he wasn't completely blinded to sensibility. He was too far away right now to make it so close to view the detail of it all. When he turned with his bright smile, his eyes just seemed to glow even more when he looked at Russia. "Ivan! Can you imagine we've found something like this! I knew it! I just knew there had to be something left over. This . . . this is what I was hoping for."

Russia's eyes turned toward the recently discovered mountains in newly authorized territory he allowed to open for exploration. Russia had been waiting to see America's face when he discovered this piece of ancient history that he knew still existed.

"I want pictures of every angle. I want it scanned in proportions and sent to tech to virtually rebuild. I want to know how old it is, how it was carved. Damn it, I want to know what kind of tools might have been used on this thing." America was precise in telling the archeologists how he wanted things. After he had finished verbally marking off his ordered to-do list, he turned back to the carved faces in stone.

Russia observed America in his awed silence. The older nation already knew what this monument was. It was a relic left over from long ago. He knew America and his people would discover it after he permitted this territory to open under exploration. There were other places that Russia believed America would remember, but he would introduce him to those places little by little. Right now, he was looking at the younger nation to try and see if he recognized the four faces carved into the mountain.

"I wonder who they were," America whispered. His eyes scanning every viewed detail of the faces as he could see from there. He seemed thrilled with the find and excited to understand how this formation came to be and to learn of the people who constructed these men.

Russia was coming to believe that America would never remember the previous cycle . . . as the others hadn't. But Russia did, and he supposed that was what set him apart from the others.

Russia remembered opening his eyes for the very first time in this world. He was born alone, and remained that way. He grew up alongside his gathered people, but after a little while he came to understand he had retained the knowledge of the previous life.

His intelligence culled bloodthirsty leaders that tried to control his people as well as him. This time, Russia made certain that the humans treat him and the rest of his kind like gods.

Those other nations he ran into in his early years bore familiar faces. Some were kind, but some were foolish in their attempts to dominate him and the world around them. So they had to be enslaved and retaught under Russia's knowledgeable guidance, and those who refused to see to his ways were unfortunately terminated.

Russia sought for peace. He knew by now over past experience that it was not gained through well-intended deeds and simple talks to convince even the most aggressive to lay down their arms. No, first, Russia had to be powerful for any other nation to remotely take him with a serious thought.

He was ancient, compared to most. Russia was born when nations began appearing again. He was privileged to come earlier instead of later, though he made certain that he didn't fade into the memory of grandchildren like many of the nations around him had. It was entirely his intelligence and insight in the world and previous personalities of the once-known nations that set Russia a step or two in front of everyone else.

And so at an early age Russia set himself and his people as reigning world power. His knowledge let the people advance faster, his knowledge had other nations flocking to him to be tutored and guided by his wisdom. It was through this he tried to instill peace into the new young nations coming into the world around him, many he remembered as his peers, as his subordinates, as his enemies.

Russia remembered the wrong of the previous cycle and tried his best to make a way so that those same mistakes could not be repeated. His wanted to give back to the world. So he did all he could within his power to help the planet heal from the devastation it had suffered.

Slowly, but surely, the patches were healing. Russia was seeing a complete recovery and possible more vibrant health to the planet they called home. This caused for more people to outstretch across the lands and regroup, and from that nations were born.

However, Russia began to grow weary in the world he had worked so hard to mold. Yes, he enjoyed the respect and worship given to him by the people of the planet and nations he helped shape into ideal countries and governments. Yes, he enjoyed how freely they all came to him and to his home, sometimes spending time with him in company while in later times biding him a fond farewell of the likes he had never had the privilege of knowing in the previous cycle. He was a well-thought and highly regarded nation this time, and Russia adored the praise. But he was weary, tired, and strained in his status.

Ruling by one's self tormented the soul.

In retaining the memories of the previous cycle, so too did Russia keep his emotions; his feelings. With new life his heart began to beat anew, but it was still so hurt from the memory of the organ it had bonded to so intimately. In the beginning Russia did not have the time to address it and simply went on ignoring the ache until it became a sort of dull sensation in his chest while he made himself grow tall and strong in the rush to rule a world in recovery.

But after everything was settled, after the world began to slow and the rise of fellow nations ceased immediate rapid growth, Russia had begun to feel the ache all the more. He did not address it and for the most part tried to keep himself with international affairs and business with his multitude of friends so that he did not have to dwell on it. For a time, for a long time it worked and eventually years turned into decades, decades into centuries, and centuries into millenniums. But even with his kept time, Russia's pace slowed.

Too often the reigning nation found himself without a thing to do in the days and in the nights. When there wasn't a presence to speak to, when there wasn't new literature to read, art to view, or freshly composed scores to listen to, Russia would find himself alone, left to nothing but his thoughts and the aches of his ancient body—the most prominent and pronounced being the soft burn in his heart.

It was then that Russia understood that coming into this cycle with the knowledge of the previous life was that of a curse as well. The damage done to his heart was carried over and still it did not beat as strongly as he wished, as he longed for. This slow time for him isolated him from ally and public to the point that the entire world had grown concerned.

The meditation seemed to hurt him more than anything else, and the dreams came to him, those of memories wished forgotten like the rest of the others walking about the earth. They were too real and Russia would awake screaming even as if reliving the final throes of his death . . . no . . . not his own . . . but his.

Since Russia's rise to power and in taking world-wide territory in his sovereignty, he had set himself as an authoritative figure but in many a sense a guide, especially to the nations seeing him as the wise old personification that he was. They came to him seeking advice on an adversary they were in current enmity with, they came to him for insight on trade routes, they even came to him for comments on simple things like interior decoration. Russia was happy to provide them with the wisdom they sought, but in this Russia used their superstition of his knowledge to keep them from certain parts of the world . . . those parts once belonging to him in a time long gone. Russia kept it that way in a silent form of mourning, and no one questioned him, at least not verbally.

It was during this slow period, and the growing and acknowledged ache in his heart that Russia finally lifted the ban. He allowed only one country to venture out into the territory that Russia had previously kept hallow from what he could. England was ordered firstly to survey once and then report back to Russia on his findings. Russia already knew what lay in those lands—nothing—but he allowed the British nation to carry on in his exploration for . . . reasons Russia himself wasn't entirely sure of.

Just to survey once at first, but when England expressed his desire to sail the waters of the Western Hemisphere again Russia allowed him to. His requests later were granted in kind as well, and soon England was privileged with marking those waters on his trading routes only he was cleared to pass. Other nations complained and negotiations about the thrilling newly opened territories began.

Russia hadn't wanted to believe it, but in time—after allowing the likes of France as well as Spain to send their people through the restricted territories—it was understood that he was suddenly trying to recreate the colonial age. As if everything that had happened before would happen the same as it would now. It was a stupid idea, but Russia was curious and more so . . . hopeful.

Just enough, Russia granted them all just enough space to set up colonies. From there he waited for anything, for the possibility of appearances. There were some problems however. These nations surrounding Russia were indeed not the same he recalled from before. Their personalities were near warped from the previous cycle, some retained the same, but many did not, and England had no interest in colonies. He was a lover of newly uncharted territories which Russia did not open often. And so he quickly abandoned his colonies to die off while he continued sailing the seas and trading, and building his own lands.

Russia was unamused, especially when France and Spain nearly found themselves in a war over their clashing colonies that produced offspring of which Russia was not familiar with in relation before. The children died, new ones were born. This cycle seemed to repeat from hostilities and Russia's lack of allowing either nation more territory in which to settle. But they would not dare strike a war with Russia, not when he was too powerful and too smart.

From this horrible start, the other nations looked on the notion of colonies as a waste and trouble they did not have time for. This mind frame kept for centuries later, even as France and Spain's colonies slowly grew and kept to a certain size. And soon enough, even Russia paid mind to them no longer, not even when his aching chest continually pulled him to go to the land himself and just . . . search.

To find the most beautiful nation the planet had ever had the blessing of bearing was nothing but a fantasy now. Russia was certain of it. It just took a few thousands of years until he came to these terms of understanding.

And so he remained quiet in his solitude, and denied his aching upset. He dressed accordingly for one in mourning, he had since the day he had been reborn. Many asked as to why he did this and for whom he so treasured so deeply to continually remember them throughout such a timespan. Russia only offered a smile and continued silence on the subject because he knew none would understand because none remembered. How could he make them see the horrible loss when they didn't know what was missing? No, it was impossible.

Winter was dead and summer thrived in the air, so even if Russia could not have his presence with him, he was glad for the recurring memory of times once pleasant spent every time he came out and basked in the warm sun that overlaid his lands for the first time since he had been brought up from the earth. He was no longer a country of ice and death, but of greenery and sunshine . . . just like he was. And Russia was happy in it, and swore to remember him always when he felt the warmth he provided on his skin and the sun for his people.

It was such an interesting world now; a world without winter. A paradise was all Russia understood it as, and once he banished the mere thought of war and famine then he truly believed that heaven was not a place one could go to once their soul passed on from this life—but a place that could be made here, on earth. Nothing seemed amiss in a world without violence, but, oh . . . maybe one thing.

It seemed to upset Russia knowing that the world he worked so hard to make lacked something. It was frustrating to a perfectionist like him, but now dreadfully depressing knowing that it was only he whom this irritable feeling would affect. So he let it go, kept it a secret, and kept to his silence.

So it had been to no wonder how surprised the rest of the world nations were when Russia had neglected all form of proper greeting when England paid visit with his famed golden ships and bounteous treasures. The case for Russia's misdemeanor was not from enthusiasm and excitement for the gifts of which the smaller nation would give him. No, it had been something else that moved his heart to make race out of his palace without entourage nor transportation, and rush toward the docks on the swiftness of his own legs.

There had been a little boy that England had mentioned he found during a routing expedition that took longer than necessary. England had only mentioned him briefly before announcing his arrival to the world capital. The isle nation had brought the child for a naming ceremony, as was custom.

In Russia's understanding of all things, and the other nations acknowledgment of said wisdom bestowed upon him, it was sought that every nation, whether mirco, upcoming, sibling, or offspring, were to be brought before Russia and given a fitting name. This was to be no different and England was just doing what was customary. But he held the fair child so close and the child clung to him back. England looked quite fond of him, his eyes never leaving him for a moment until he had noticed Russia's plight to the docks by his very own.

England had been the first nation to see Russia cry. The island nation had looked so shocked, so unprepared for this behavior that he was at a hysterical confusion on what to do. Of course he never would have guessed that all he needed to do to quell Russia's falling tears and choking sobs was to let the weight of the newly found child press into the ancient's arms.

It had even been a mystery to the very day of present how the child came about. There had been no planned colonies, nor remembrance of any form of various groups of humans settling into the forbidden hemisphere. Yet this child appeared as any upcoming nation had, and since England had been the first to discover him through sheer accident, he attached to him and so dubbed him as his brother.

Be it that they were a great span of years apart, the two formed a bond of kinsmanship, though many believed this only because the child knew of no other nation than the isle personification. But even so, on the day of his arrival into the world the entire planet seemed to halt for a moment and alert her residents of his new place. Nations from all over refused to continue their duties and came to see the child in the naming ceremony. The gathering was grand, but it was a detail Russia had remembered neglecting, when all his gaze and thoughts were solely on the boy.

He was a handsome child, and endearing with the way he clung to England despite it being time to hand him into Russia's arms for the gift of a name. He was well-mannered for the most part as well. His features betrayed his want to rest in England's arms, but in time those wide blue eyes of his looked upon the ancient nation now holding him, and the easing curiosity settled him.

When Russia had announced both of the child's name it was commonly understood and in habit everyone clapped. But when Russia had afterwards announced the boy to be granted status as his future mate, the room turned quiet. The ancient nation of Russia never showed interest in any sort of bond with any personification nor mortal. The announcement startled every nation, and unsettled England most of all.

England had been born an only child into this cycle and the thought of him being able to name a nation as his sibling thrilled him, but after Russia's announcement he was one of the many to understand that the newly discovered nation would have to leave his home and merge with Russia's as his spouse. The British nation tried to be reasonable and see to the privileges in his mind, but his upset was noted amongst many of his peers and even to Russia. While the ancient nation wished to have the child live with him immediately, he, however, granted England the chance to raise him until the merging ceremony was called upon.

It seemed to ease the younger nation substantially, but Russia quickly took notice of the other nations' confusion as well as upset. It was a highly esteemed position, to be Russia's partner, when before he made no inclination of ever desiring one so close. Russia's memory was good and he recalled the times of his high rise into power and how many sought an alliance, a partnership, merges. He declined every offer no matter the territories, riches, or even tactical advantages to gain from such unions. He would love no other than the one his heart ached for.

Russia even believed he would have still felt this way even if he had lost all memories prior to waking up in this cycle. He was finally retaining a happiness in his life now that the young boy had been discovered and brought to him. He made sure to send to England gifts for the child and to visit often so the boy did not grow too estranged from him.

Russia and young America had pleasant times together, and he did not mind playing such rugged games with the child if he wished to even if his older brother saw the playdates as disrespectful. If the boy wanted to climb trees then Russia would settle him in the branches, if the boy wanted to ride wild stallions then Russia would pick the most rowdy animal and dare the child to tame it, if the boy wanted to try the most controversy foods for simple dares then Russia would order them for him and even join him in his attempt at braving the unknown. Russia had never had so much fun; standing beside America as he grew into a young lad. He took the role of best friend more than anything else, even despite his age, while England was almost seem more as a parent than an older sibling. But Russia would not deny the love America had for his brother or even the other nations whom he showed fondness for.

He was in the form of a mere young fourteen-year-old when Russia could find himself to wait for his maturity no longer and deemed him ripe to merge with. America and his people were intimidated by the announcement continually showed their unease even through the ceremony. England had bid his wishes that Russia continue to wait until the boy's body grow a little more, but this time America's growth rate retained a slower pace and was not nearly as fast as it had been previously, so Russia's stunted wait was understandable—at least to himself.

To appease England in any way, Russia offered riches directly from his treasury to him in a sort of dowry for the union as well as opened other banned territories to England alone. The nation was somewhat quelled with the gifts, but the Brit remained quite uptight through the entire unification ceremony, and easily showed his decline in letting his brother go.

But Russia was kind to America on their unification day and showed the entire world present how privileged the boy was now. His lands were favored over others, his people seen as more attractive than those of ancient breed. His schools were prized, his product deemed of superior quality, and his trade of high recommendation now through Russia's desire of the nation. He was closed off from the rest of the world after the unification became official and any older nation wishing to seek treaties or set up trade would now have to come through Russia's demands.

For a while Russia had been afraid that young America hadn't wanted the union. Even in this cycle the boy was fond of his independency, and so Russia worried that he saw a unification as a means of enslavement, when Russia only meant for him to see it as a promotion in world status. While Russia still reigned supreme on the scale of nations, he wanted his mate to have the same privileges, to grow in military might and set up bases alongside his own. If America wished to visit another land then he was free to do so. Russia gave him as much power as himself, but he was still far older and so many decisions would weigh upon him alone due to his wisdom in foresight.

It was the day of their unification that worried Russia the most. America was quiet a majority of that day, and Russia feared him to be frightened of the idea that he was now bound to another nation in the laws of marriage. Russia wanted the young nation to like his new status, to enjoy his recently acquired territories, and to . . . love his husband.

America trembled when Russia and he made to consummate their union. Russia was gentle with him and patient. The much younger nation did not fight him or attempt to pull his mind away from the act, but he tried to remain still and compliant. Russia tried to help him understand how much he loved him even in something that was imperative they do due to the fact of the binding treaty.

So quiet, America was still so quiet even on the morrow after. He laid still, eyes awake and watching while Russia tended to him and cleaned up the sweat and grime from his skin. In this task Russia explained his affection for the boy and even the lifetimes of his love for him. He knew the younger nation wouldn't understand and it hurt Russia a small amount in knowing that the better memories of a life of regret were even forgotten, but in his task of cleaning the boy he watched as America responded to him, as he looked at him, as he reached out and took up his larger hands to hold and spread his legs to invite.

Their second joining was a much better experience for the both of them. In this America responded better to Russia's touches and kisses, and made to return the older's passion in his own way. In time America came to love Russia as much as Russia had always loved him. The feeling grew in their marriage and soon they were both as close as Russia had always longed to be in every cycle.

It had been a perilous journey full of long-suffering, but Russia would not deny the fruition of his work. Right now he enjoyed watching how enthusiastic his spouse was over the new find in the recently opened mountain regions. Russia remembered the reason for this large carving's construction, but he kept to himself to let America and the others fascinate over their existence. Russia often wondered when he would tell everyone of the previous cycles. Would they believe him? Would they even be able to comprehend?

Russia enjoyed the present peace and so kept to his silence in hopes to retain it.

"It's marvelous, Ivan, it really is." America looked so awe-struck with the newly found structure. His men had already scanned it and digitally uploaded the format onto America's folder device. America's fingers constantly stroked the miniscule hologram of the structured layout.

When Russia watched those fascinated blue eyes of his scan the contours of the carved faces, it amazed the older nation how no recognition flashed across his spouse's irises. It was sadly humorous because Russia remembered a time when nothing; no catastrophe, or detrimental event, could ever erase those familiar face's from the boy's memory. Now, those four once-heroes of his never existed in America's life—at least not this one.

"I wonder who constructed it," America said in curious question. "Was it the indigenous people, or perhaps there had been a civilization here before . . . long before . . ." His eyes then turned toward his mate. "Would you know anything of this?"

Russia had sworn never to steal truth from his spouse on their merging day. He made to keep that oath as well, but he was uncertain if he, or the other countries, could even comprehend what Russia understood in clarity. There were theories of what indeed had happened, of the cycles of the nations of their peoples, but they were not looked upon with any amount of seriousness as they should be. No, instead, Russia evaded directly answering until he was sure some understanding of his knowledge could be comprehended in those being informed.

"I knew of no other nation to pertain these borders except you, Alfred," Russia answered, and he was telling the truth. There had been no other nation except him in these lands, not even in the ancient society of which Russia was birthed from.

"Yeah, but, that's because these lands were sealed off, forbidden from any settlement," America spoke up, keeping his gaze upon the faces. "There's just . . . so much we don't know," he muttered to himself. "All of these advancements mean nothing if we can't understand where we came from." Alfred sighed in frustration, his form falling beside the place where his spouse sat himself. "I'm sorry, Ivan, I just . . . I want to know so much." There was a fondness in those blue eyes that Ivan was very familiar with when America looked at the 3D hologram of the scanned sculpture. "I want to explore the rest of the forbidden territories, I want to know who sculpted these faces." Blue eyes glanced upward toward the setting sun and the space above. "I want to know what's out there, past this planet." A smile graced the boy's lips as he pointed toward the vision of the revealing moon. "I want to fly up there and set foot on the surface of the moon. We have all of this technology and yet we still haven't breached the atmosphere."

Yes, that pioneering spirit was still embedded into America, and it always made Russia smile. However, the lack of having such limited freedom to do the things he longed for made the younger nation sad. The excitement would build until memory reminded him of the restrictions and lack of funding for these sort of expeditions. Nothing was approved without Russia's say-so, including commandeering a mission into space.

While what America had said was true; that they were highly advanced enough to accomplish all of their heightened dreams, it was still up to Russia to give approval of exploration, whether on or outside of the planet. Even the moon held artifacts that Russia knew his spouse would baffle over. A flag of red and white stripes and fifty stars continually held up there. Russia knew America wouldn't remember putting it up there, but he knew the boy would wonder why it was there and seek information on forgotten civilizations past.

In time Russia would tell him all, with no expectancy of his young mate comprehending. The ancient nation had no qualms with revealing the things in his intellectual mind, but now just was not the right moment. As of right then he would remain quiet and supportive of America's exuviations and exploration endeavors.

"I have faith you will discover these revolutionary mysteries in time," Russia said, reaching out and pressing his hand down upon America's knee while the Western nation continually gazed and memorized the makings of the carvings. "Don't let one conundrum drive you into the depression of the unknown. You are smart, Alfred. You will unravel its mystery in time." Leaning forward, Russia reached up and brushed America's hair behind his ear and placed a tender kiss to the shell of cartilage. "And you are young, you have many, many years ahead of you to tackle the endless questions inside of you."

Russia was glad to see the boy smile. He reveled in the feel of America turned to him, wrapping his arm around his neck and pressing the palm of his hand against the back of his head just to pull the older forward and grant him a pleasantly sweet kiss of gratitude.

"I know, I just tend to get ahead of myself," America replied when he pulled his lips away and blushed at his usual rushed behavior. Russia automatically shifted when American leaned himself against him, pressing his head against his shoulder and finally taking his eyes off of the hologram for a moment.

Russia chuckled at America's statement. He would have let them stay like this, enjoying the other's presence and closeness, but he had to mention, "Then you must remember the naming ceremony scheduled for this evening."

Just as expected; Russia felt America stiffen. He was curious if the boy would play aloofness about the entire situation and act as if he had remembered the upcoming event, but he hadn't. Instead he pulled away and looked at Russia with wide eyes.

"Who?" He questioned.

"Prussia," Russia answered. "His cleared colonies have produced him offspring. He means to bring the child for me to name."

"Tonight?" America suddenly jumped up. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

Russia sat thoroughly amused while America darted over to his team of experts, gave them a list of what he wanted done by the end of the day involving the dig site, and then gathered all of the things he would look at and test back in the capital before rushing off toward their mode of transportation.

"Ivan, are you coming? We're going to be late!" came America's call while the younger nation tried shoving all of the artifacts into their compartment, clearly he hadn't seen the trail he had left from the main setup research base toward their vehicle.

Russia took his time getting there for as long as it took to pick up the dropped pieces. When he finally reached the door he was met by quite an aggravated American nation. But those narrowed blue eyes and condescending frown vanished in the blink of an eye when they locked onto the dropped items he had left behind in his hurry to race back to their transport.

Russia had those relics out of his hand as quickly as he had revealed them to his forgetful spouse. Before a chuckle even resounded over the quick speed of clearing his hands, America had leaned out of the seating compartment and offered a thankful peck on the lips, but that was all Russia got when it was clear America had leaned back into his seat, expecting to leave immediately.

It did not matter if Russia and America turned up fashionably late or not. The ceremony would not proceed without Russia, for it was he who graced the new find with a name fitting. A few upset kept nations would not deter the couple from taking their time to prepare themselves in accordance to public appearance.

"A lot of the countries are attending this time," America noted, himself already ready and now seated to read to list of checked-in attendees.

"I know," Russia replied back after fixing his wardrobe ornaments. His uniform was tedious as it should be in its exquisite display, and he had to constantly turn and examine himself in the mirror to make sure every decoration was in its rightful position and angled properly. It certainly reminded him of the cycles previously, of his glamourous imperial age, and looking over, Russia's smile turned at the lavish scene of his American bride. The boy had no qualms with such extravagant attire, and had since grown used to the fittings and dazzlingly displays in public. Now he sat calm in the regel dressing.

Crowns with speckled, and perfectly cut brilliant gems shaped their brows, revealing their status through ornate declaration. It was expected for the both of them to always bear their attire of supremacy, even in something as small as visiting a city charity. Russia wanted to make sure that all eyes always turned to them when they made their presence known, and he deftly wanted to ensure that all gazes viewed his spouse as the most privileged nation in the world . . . because he indeed was.

"This year has been very pleasant," Russia recalled as he walked over toward his awaiting spouse. Those big blue eyes glanced away from the attendee sheet and up toward his powerful husband. "A year full of exploring new frontiers than barricading borders, of finalizing peace treaties than signing declarations of aggression, of new nations and colonies arising to be named than falling before their time, forgotten. Yes, this is what I strive for, and what everyone else should as well." Russia's eyes glanced toward the list of names and let his gloved fingers trace over a well known signature. "England is here. I'm certain you cannot wait to tell him of your findings."

America smiled and nodded in glee. He stood up and expectantly wrapped his hand around Russia's arm before the two turned and headed out of their changing quarters to meet their guests.

Russia would never grow tired of the official announcers declaring their entrance into public. It had been all Russia had longed for in every life; to have America by his side, his partner, his equal, holding onto him as he held onto him while their names were exclaimed in all compliments to the other.

"The Grand Russo-American Union of the International Republic. All rise for their entrance."

Perhaps more so better than having America next to him, holding onto him, was having all of the nations respectfully acknowledging their union and understanding why Russia had chosen America of all to treasure with such titles. This had been all Russia had sought previously, and now, there was no animosity between anyone over this decision of relationship, there was no jealousy, there was no forcefulness, all was consent, and if some wished to secretly long for the things Russia himself had accomplished then they could because Russia knew that everyone understood their place, and to steal from the Grand Russo International Republic would be thought of nothing more than the inconceivable likes.

No, Russia had no fear of letting go of America while he mingled himself into the crowd of awaiting countries after their arrival announcement because he knew the young nation would always faithfully return to him.

"England, England, I have to tell you what I've found!" America had found his brother rather quickly and readily talked his ear off about the fascinating discover he and his people had found recently. Russia liked the way England's eyes lit up, the two siblings both shared in the love for anything new and mysterious. It was a good thing that had so many related interests, even though it had been centuries since America had lived with his older brother, the two still kept in touch regularly through distant communication and occasional visiting.

The two supreme nations mingled with the crowd of nations, waiting until the appropriate hour to give the name to the newly birthed colony. Russia saw the to-be-named child resting in their parent's arms, all dressed for presentation and quiet. Russia was glad to see the parent nation happy again. This was actually his second colony, the first having perished from an unexpected disease outbreak. The help hadn't gotten to the sick fast enough to save anyone and so the people and their young colony they consisted of passed away. This new young one was born some years later after the tragic event, and now all were hopeful she would build up the majestic structures from the ashes of her fallen brother.

"It's been a while since I've seen your cousin smile so happily," Russia spoke up, making the nation who remained quiet, eyes on America as he chatted away with his brother, jump and turn toward the higher reigning country.

The young German offered a smile and a polite bow in reverence to Russia before straightening his posture. "It is. But he's worked hard at this new colony. I shouldn't think she to vanish as quickly as the other one."

"So we should all hope." Russia's eyes turned back to the child who looked quite content in Prussia's arms while he talked away to the nations surrounding him and inquiring his standing on the colony's development. Russia then smiled and looked at the young German, actually the youngest nation in Europe at this point. "Frankly, I am surprised you have yet to approach me for approval of colonies of your own."

Germany's eyes widened at Russia's suggestion and a faint unsure blush dusted his cheeks. "I wouldn't think I'd know where to start. No, I'm happy where I am."

"Hmm, perhaps when you are older."

Russia knew there were still parts of the world that needed populated, and could sustain human life. He'd gladly accept more countries wishing to colonize if the idea of such would grow more on the countries. Right now, there still weren't many comfortable with sending out various groups of their people and funds to sustain a surveyed colony, especially not after the disasters that occurred with the very first ones. However, Russia was surprised to see Prussia start all over again even after the heartbreak of losing his firstborn son. Now, Russia hoped that his enthusiasm would help ease the fears of the other on-looking countries and goad them to follow in his successfully striving footsteps.

"What about you?" Germany's question pulled Russia's concentration from his wandering thoughts and when he looked at the young German who stood tall and expectant to reach full adulthood like his peers, the young nation motioned back toward where America continued his conversation with England. "Are there any thoughts of colonization of your own? America might take to the notion." Germany's light eyes turned toward the nation who had broken out in a laughter over something humorous England had mentioned. The boy had such nice laughter. "I'm certain the colonies would be very appeasing, and very beautiful." The sigh in Germany's tone was noted. Not that Russia had to be reminded; he had known for a long time of the young nation's affection for his spouse.

Germany had been born into Europe's land when Russia and the others were all very old, thinking no more nations—not even the ones Russia remembered from the previous cycle—would appear than who already had. But Germany appeared and was brought before Russia to name in his infancy. The child had cried in his arms during the naming ceremony and wouldn't silence until America reached out and took him into his arms. The child was automatically smitten with the western beauty and from then on, as the German nation grew around his cousins and neighbors, his eyes held to the west where America lay in desire just to see him.

It seemed that even forgotten affection continued without an explanation how.

"We haven't the need for a colony," Russia simply replied, his own gaze returning to where Alfred stood and conversed. Truthfully, he's never brought the subject up with Alfred, nor had the younger nation spoken about it with him. Russia wasn't certain on his spouse's standing about the subject. "We are content how we are." And they were.

Germany offered Russia a smile of formal meaning, but when he turned his eyes upon America his smile softened and seemed to hold for much longer. "Well, maybe later. My cousin seems to be doing something right." The German nation's gaze turned back to Prussia who was showing off his daughter colony. "Perhaps the need to colonize will have a ripple effect and other nations will begin to spread out of their own borders. There's always the prohibited western territories under your jurisdiction. I'm certain that would be a pleasant place for you and he to start."

"Perhaps one day," Russia responded only in kind. "But we are still discovering the interesting things about recently opened borders. One step at a time."

Russia then moved on and came up to Prussia, announcing it time to name his colony. It was formal as anything else. Every nation stood at attendance and beheld the spectacle as Russia approached a pedestal and stood higher so that the gathered nations could see when he took the child into his arms and blessed and named her.

America fell in his place by his side, standing just a little away from him. Even though America was his spouse, these naming ceremonies were only fulfilled with Russia's guidance. He held the child and he recited the name. America was there only to present himself during the naming.

It was still an exciting thing to see no matter how many millennia Russia continued with this tradition. Russia would grace the child with a national name as well as human, and every nation present awaited to hear what this newly born colony would so be called.

Russia turned his eyes upon Prussia. The Prussian country knew what to do after having done this exact cycle with his previous child. Once the supreme nation's eyes were on him he came up onto the stand, holding his child close. He stopped, stood still, waited for Russia's next movement. Russia then turned to him, stood still for a moment, holding Prussia's gaze. When Russia held out his arms to take the child, Prussia didn't wait a moment's longer before placing her into the Grand Russo's arms.

When the babe was in his arms, Russian turned back to face the crowd of nations. The room was silent in anticipation for the given name. Violet eyes fell on the child and a kind smile offered to the child staring back at him. She was a lovely little girl and felt strong in Russia's arms. With the right amount of care she would survive to adulthood unlike her unfortunate brother.

Taking all the time he wanted to examine her features, Russia sighed contently before he turned toward his spouse. The American looked quite surprised, off guard that Russia had turned to him. The motion was not traditional at all, and by the way America looked right and left and then toward his mate with confusion only confirmed his bewilderment.

"Would you like to name her, Alfred?" Russia offered, even going as far to hold out the young colony before the nation.

America's eyes widened and then blinked, looking down at the child, completely unsure of how to respond to such a request. But his arms came out, and the second they looked study enough to hold, the child was placed into his embrace. There was a slight awkwardness in positioning the child right in his arms, but after that, Ivan pressed his hand to the back of America and urged him to step forward and declare a name fitting for the little one in his arms.

"I, uh . . ." America's eyes kept glancing down to the child and then back toward the awaiting crowd. He'd held children before, but was never honored in allowing a name.

Russia has always named every child, colony, nation, or micronation alike. America didn't know where to start. But even so, America has always been a very forward speaker and for him to suddenly come up with nothing to say was unusual for him.

America's nervousness seemed to fade away the more he held his eyes on the child. He's always loved children and usually after naming ceremonies, was always the first to ask the parent to hold their offspring. The little girl was beautiful and held the much older nation mesmerized by her spirit. Her little hand even decided to take hold of his thumb and keep it with her until her time on stage was over.

"I think . . . no . . ." America chuckled, excusing his unprofessional self before adjusting the girl in his arms once more and saying, "Lemuria, yeah, that name sounds like it'll fit her."

"And what about her other name?" Russia questioned to remind.

"Oh." America nodded his head and then took a moment to think about it while keeping his eyes on the girl who held his gaze. "Amelia," he answered. "I've always . . . liked that name."

Russia chuckled quietly. Those certainly weren't this girl's name in the previous cycle, but what was wrong with new names for new lifetimes?

With a nod, Russia stepped forward with acceptance and then turned his gaze toward the nations. "She has been named, accept her and respect her. This is Lemuria."

Claps resounded in the room and Prussia approached America to receive his daughter again. America had all but forgotten the final motion of handing the child back to the parent. The girl simply enraptured him and he had been in another world with her.

"Oh, sorry. Here you go."

America smiled and handed the little one to her parent nation who smiled affectionately at her and softly repeated her official name to her. It was a heartfelt sight, one that Alfred would remember even after the nations returned to their own homes and retired their duties for the night.

"Why did you let me name the child this time?" America asked while he and his husband took their leave of presence and returned to their private wing.

Russia halted for a moment, his eyes turning toward his young spouse with curiosity. "Did you not wish me to?"

"It's not that," America swore, his hands holding onto Russia's arm began curling fingers, digging into the ivory fabric of Russia's decorative attire. "I just hadn't been expecting it."

"You named her rightly," Russia said, patting America's hand. "Far better than what I could have named the child."

"What would you have named her?" America questioned with an interested smile. The boy leaned close, his chest pressing warmly against Russia's side. The older nation smiled in return, knowing full well how to handle the younger's playful curiosity.

"A name that shall not exist," he simply replied teasingly and continued walking back to their room with or without his spouse clinging to his arm.

America had loosened his jaw, his lips parting in either shock or a whine. He had stayed behind while Russia continued on the path they had been on. Before long he chased after his spouse.

"Come on, I really want to know!" Was his complaint all the way back to their quarters.

Russia wasn't so much as annoyed by America's persistence in the matter than he was convicted. He halted before the entrance to their chambers, his hand already reaching out to grip the handle but not pulling. Their daily routine to retire to bed together at the end of every day halted to present clarification . . . for the both of them.

"Do you remember our vows when we unified?" Russia turned his eyes toward America. He was right beside him in wait for him to either open their bedroom door or grant him an answer to his pressing question. But, by Russia's, America looked taken aback; eyes fluttering and lips parting ever so slightly while his entire form took a step back to regain mental bearings.

"That was a long time ago," America replied, a chuckle leaving his throat to note his lack of preparedness to instantly answer the ancient nation's question.

"But do you remember them?" Russia questioned once more. It was true that the day of their unification had been centuries ago. The thought alone made Russia smile. They'd been married for many, many years without one single problem between their peoples. Not many nations could accomplish such seemingly steep feats.

"How could I forget them?"

The softened tone swooned Russia's heart. There America stood, right before him, smiling gently and looking at him with an ever growing endearing gaze. Those blue eyes seemed to shine so brightly when he looked at Russia like that, they were the reason the ancient nation continually fell in love with this young inspiring country day after day after day.

"This day, hence forth do I swear . . ." A fondness arose in Russia's heart during the recital that it rose inside his chest and pressed a content sigh out of his nostrils. "To join myself to this nation. To uphold your constitution as you revere mine. To treat your land with sacred respect and acknowledge the sovereignty of your citizens and their ordained rights. To remain by your side in growth, in crisis. To aide and enact all fairness involving the lay of your territories."

"Where you walk, so will I," America began as if his memory hadn't faded from that moment at all. He'd come a long way in reciting these binding verses than when he was the little boy stuttering, repeating, and nearly forgetting all of the rehearsed words before the audience of the world. "Where you rest, so will I. Whom you wrestle in enmity against, so will I offer a strong hand in alliance. Your companionship do I accept. Your guidance do I accept. Your declaration of my sovereignty to reign I will uphold and in so respect your presence by my side."

"As my partner," Russian began to finish.

"As my companion," America continued on with him, his smile growing while they recited their old vows that neither dared forget.

"As my mate."

"My spouse."

The couple smiled alike, both of their gazes sparkling while the need to lean in and press lips to lips to complete the oath arose inside them. But Ivan blinked away the gleam in his eyes to express something much more weighing.

"You are my equal, Alfred," Russia reminded. "So often does the world, as well as you, see this. We recited this promise on the day of our unification. I said those words for the other nations of the world to hear and understand that I meant every word. I know that I am old and my wisdom seemingly overshadows your own, but so too are you intelligent beyond my understanding, and perhaps your own. I wish for us to stand side by side during ceremonies instead of you just slightly behind me. I want the other nations to look to you for guidance as much as they do me." With a smile, Russia reached up and brushed his knuckles against the bronzed cheeks of his spouse. "Because I already do," Russian admitted in case America had forgotten. "And if the others view me as such a model country then I would wish they cherish you and your words and your ideas and your presence as much as I do."

Russia's heart fluttered when he felt American lean into his touch, rising his own hand to press against Russia's held touch if just to keep him there, pressing against his face.

Russia could even see the disappointment in the boy's expressions when he took his hand back and remained a distance from the western nation.

"That is why I have decided to open up the rest of the banned territories." When Russia had stated that, he watched America's eyes widen in surprise.

"You would do that?" America sounded absolutely shocked, and why shouldn't he? Russia's had those perimeters titled as off-limits for thousands upon thousands of years.

"Yes," Russian nodded. "But I am leaving these opened borders for you to explore and map and excavate. I do not want the others attempting to stake claims just yet. These territories will be in your hands. You are to do with them as you see fit."

America blinked, his mouth opening as if to say something only to close with a tied tongue. "Well, I'm still just discovering all the things in the recently opened territory." America chuckled while scratching his cheek. "I'll move into the rest in time."

Russia nodded. "Whatever you want will be given to you." He had said this multiple times before even though in the past, when America inquired about the outer reaches of the sky as well as the banned territory, Russia would turn his thoughts away from them and simply explain that their exploration was not needed at the moment. Of course it wasn't to Russia because he already knew what lay in those curious sectors, but he should have never turned away his mate's curiosity.

"If you wish to reach the moon just to see what it is made of then I will gladly fund every expedition."

America chuckled, reaching up and patting Russia's shoulder. "Let's find out all we can about this world first. A journey to the moon sounds tempting, but maybe after every terrain on this planet's been explored."

Russia enjoyed the way America's eyes shined with excitement. The youth in him was all envied by the others, even by the Grand Russo himself.

"Why the sudden change of heart? If you don't mind me asking." Wide blue eyes looked up at him expectantly, waiting, hoping for an answer.

"To be honest? It began during the ceremony, when you looked as equally surprised to be allowed to name the colony," Russia admitted. "I didn't like how you and the others viewed yourself as just a privileged nation. True, you are, but your authority should coincide with my own. I was at fault as well for not fully understanding mine, as well as your own, role in our marriage. I would . . ." Russia sighed. It had been a while since he's felt shame, but after this realization and America's question that budded this confession, he knew it was only right to feel it. "I would ask for your forgiveness in neglecting your authorized supremacy. You are my mate, my partner, my lover, my equal, my spouse. To hide something from you should be punishable by death."

When Ivan then felt Alfred press his hand against his face, the Russian's violet gaze turned to look into the face of his spouse. America was smiling at him, every expression made seemed understanding, as the boy always was. Right away Russia caught on to the slight shake of that golden head, a sign of disagreement in the American.

"But then who would I love if you die?" America questioned softly, the pads of his fingers rubbing gentle against pale skin.

Russia's arms opened without a command signal from his brain when the younger nation pressed close and wished to be held in the strong arms of his much older husband. So was the result of their bond, but Russia didn't mind, because their desires worked both ways. Right then he wanted American to hold him back with just as a strong embrace, and the young nation did, quickly wrapping his arms around the Russian country in security.

"No matter what you do, Ivan, you'll never get me to fall out of love with you," America answered with conviction, nuzzling his face against Russia's sternum.

Russia's fingers curled, digging into the fine gold and blue fabric of America's attire. The jewels laden upon America's neck and clothing jingled under the ancient nation's touch, tingling Russia's ears, but more so was he focused on the breathing of his love, and the feel of the warmth of his body pressed against him. He remained still, just basking in the presence and reality of holding American so intimately in his arms. When he pulled back if only to look the boy in the face, Russia's fingers traced that strong American jaw, marveling at the absolute perfectly structured nation before him.

"What if I were to kill you?" Surely that would make America loath him beyond the grave. Visions of previous circumstances rolled across Russia's vision in his mind. Deftly not forgotten by the ancient nation, much to his inner torment.

Never once had Russia spoke about death with America. He's expressed his dislike for any who harmed America, intentional or not, and spoke in detail of what he'd do to any unfortunate individual who'd enact this, but to speak so openly of death when Russia wished no country to think of it, much less suggest a possible murder of the one he proclaimed to love, why, it was provocative, and frightening in its own sense.

But America showed no fear. Confusion had flashed though his bright topaz-like eyes briefly in the beginning before a smile warmed his gaze and darkened the hue of his irises.

"If you did, I know you would not be long after me," America answered in a retort way.

"And why is that?" Russia was curious why he believed his would-be murderer would likely fall into the throes of death shortly after committing the deed to slay him firstly.

"Because you love me," America answered with all the serious conviction on his held gaze. Reaching up, America placed his palm to Russia's cheek again. "You wouldn't be able to live without me as I wouldn't be able to live without you." No, the world just wasn't worth existing in if love wasn't present, and assuredly it couldn't be if the love of their life simply ceased to exist.

Russia nodded in agreement. Leaning into America's warm hand. In a grim sort of happiness, Russia was glad to know America would love no other and that he'd rather die than exist in this world without him. Well, the feeling was mutual. Similar enough to evoke a small fear in the couple's chests that urged them to press closer, hold tighter, and lean in to one another so to touch lips.

Their kiss held in intimacy while they allowed their spirits to reach out and caress one another, erasing every brought up fear and uncertainty. For what their spiritual auras could not coax into assurance, so did their bodies that moved against the other. Hands pressed close just the right way, stances shifting almost like a dance, creating a steady movement to rock for the both of them.

Even while they remained deep in the recess of their territory, of their expansive home, in their own private wing where no other nation nor servant of any kind were allowed, they still pressed forward, urging for their presences to vanish into the darkness of their chambers, even being so considerate to close the large doors behind them. The security of their room relaxed both nations to an extent, but not near enough as the other's embrace. They stood in the dark by the door way in one another's arms, remaining so until they moved otherwise.

When they moved again it was to meet lips. The press of their mouths harder than before, but their lips never strayed from one another, nor had their hands while clinging to the other. They remained in simple content in the quiet of their room, keeping eyes closed and nostrils open to take in the scents of their surroundings, and tongues exploring to remember the taste of their beloved.

Their spirits rejuvenated with each touch, taste, and smell. Their bodies began to tremble with vigor, the energy so trapped inside their muscles that they opted to cling tighter before moving limbs to feel familiar physiques. The two had kept their eyes shut while they felt and smelt and tasted. They enjoyed just knowing the other was real underneath their touch when they reached out to feel.

But when their eyes opened, and the glow of their irises shamed even the moon's rays falling through the large scenic windows. They let their minds get lost in the other's gaze, sharing their secrets, their thoughts, their declarations, their history with one another in absolute silence.

And after a while of just looking at the beauty standing before them they pressed close again. This time fingers slid into fabric if only in an attempt to feel the other, skin to skin. Both knew their attire were at the peak of formal, and it would take some tasking time to remove these obstacles, but they set to the mission without a complaint.

Russia's hands caressed the sides of America's face while he felt his lover reaching behind him to unclasp the straps hidden underneath his ceremonial cloak. Those fingers were so familiar with the lay of the garment and its working that it was fluttering to the floor quicker than Russia had time to lean in again and press a kiss to his spouse. Even when their lips met again at the ancient's demand, America's mind had not trailed away from his sought after task. Those hands continued to slide up Russia's arms, to his sides, his chest, unhooking, unbuttoning, unstrapping.

When Russia felt the clothing worn upon him loosening he then sought to have America in a fit of his own. So, taking off the gloves adorned on his hands, he then moved his pale fingers to the boy's wardrobe. He firstly took off the ornate jewelry, setting aside the precious stones and expensive medals before starting to loosen the clothing fitted to the American nation.

Russia's lips began wandering astray from the American's hot mouth, pressing firstly to the corner, the kiss half on and half off those tanned lips, and then to the chin, and now Russia was placing gentle kisses upon America's neck. Feeling the way the younger arched his neck into the loving kisses urged Russia to continue his exploration of already mapped territory. His lips pressed harder against pulsing skin, and when his mouth parted he began to run his teeth along the curves of that neck, nibbling on his way down to the unclasp collar.

Russia felt a sigh leave America when his lips pressed down onto his vocals. He had the urge to pull away a few inches if just to look upon his face, hoping to see appeasement. Russia's lips turned when America's eyes fluttered open and looked upon him with glowing eyes. Those lips of his were plump from previous kisses, and parted to let out the content sighs his body created from reaction of Russia's tender affection.

Their lips met halfway this time while arms tangled their long limbs around the other's body, tightening embraces just to press as close as physically possible. The sealed lips moved against one another in a quicker dance, encouraging folds to part and tongues to taste of the other again. Fingers curled into the fabric of clothing, pulling on loosened sets.

It had been Russia who then moved his hands firstly. He reached down, whilst his lips moved away from America's seeking mouth if just to press against an offered neck. Russia's hands found purchase on his spouse's hips, feeling the belts and holsters for the American country's decorative ceremonial pieces. His fingers did not seek for the buckles to these straps, instead they held tightly to the pelvis, wrists flicking in a twist so the turn the boy around and press his back to the ancient's chest.

Automatically America melted into Russia's body. The older nation's hands coming around to rub against the younger's chest and then dip down toward his abdomen, just to feel the way he breathed. But when hot breath blew against his neck, Russia turned his face, now looking into the eyes of his lover whose irises darkened by the second while he moved against him, his own arms coming up to press against his neck while the other tangled fingers into Russia's hair.

A moan passed out between America's parted lips the moment Russia rolled his hips for the first time. In sync, America rolled his hips back against him, letting his firm behind press against Russia's crotch just the right way. The movement evoked a shuddering sigh out of Russia's throat and egged on another roll.

They pressed their mouths close to one another, but did not lock lips. Instead they inhaled the other's breath, feeling how it felt against their skin and teeth and tasted on their tongue. All the while they moved against one another, rolling, sighing, and moaning.

Both could feel the arousal burning inside their guts, and the gentle throb aching their southern territories. When American closed his lips to smile, he leaned in close to Russia's face, closer than he had been, and nuzzled his nose against Russia's affectionately before pressing his lips to his mate's in a sturdier kiss.

When America pulled away, he did so subtly. Russia had been holding him, moving his hips against his one moment and then the next he had paralyzed him with a delectable kiss and moved himself away without his grasp of the action. And America kept him mesmerized as he walked a few paces away, standing ever closer to the large bed they slept on at nights. He stood with his back to him for a short moment before turning to Russia, a smile on his lips while his hands reached up and slid the loosened garments down off his shoulders.

The rest of the clothing was easily slipped out of and now there America stood, bare, bathed in the bright moon's rays falling from the windows. When America reached his arms outward, stretching them, and then arching them back behind his head, Russia's eyes fell on those toned muscles, shadowed in the silvery rays. The younger nation was godly in form. He grew slower than Russia had previously called, but when he finally pushed past those adolescent years, he began filling out steadily, and now Russia was able to see the result of full maturity of body.

Nothing was said in the viewing. America gladly showed off his body to his mate while his eyes motioned for him to follow his lead. Instead of heeding those silent pleas, Russia came closer. His hands reaching out to run along America's ribcage, fingers tracing along muscle while journeying back behind, to run up along his spine and rest palms near his shoulder blades.

Eyes on him, and Russia's eyes on America. Again they met in the middle when a kiss was sought after. And while Russia pressed America more into him with his pulling hands, the younger nation did no such thing with his own embrace. When he reached his hands up, Russia thought him to hold him as he held him, but instead his hands began sliding up loosened clothing, tugging at them, even managing to pull some away without breaking their kiss.

When the kiss was broken, it was from America's want to press his lips to revealed skin. Right away he leaned his head so that he could kiss Russia's pale throat, lingering on some patches of skin just to suckle and attempt to discolor. Those warm hands of his splayed out across Russia's chest, rubbing over muscle and small silvery hair while his lips followed the trail of their caress.

Russia's own hands fell to the small of America's back, and held him closer at the abdomen while enjoying the way his mate lavished him with affection. His ceremonial attire was unimportant as America disbanded it, nor were the places the articles fell. All that was significant in that moment was being able to press skin against skin, and now, Russia finally could.

America reached back up, wrapping his arms around Russia's neck, pulling him closer to kiss now that they could feel the other's body without hindrance. They suckled the other's mouth for some time before their legs tangled together and the only means to settle the problem was to move . . . back to their bed.

On instinct, without so much as breaking their shared heated kiss, America moved back, crawling backwards onto the mattress until Russia was able to come over him comfortably and rest their entire bodies on the bed. It was then their forms relaxed and their hands went to work caressing the other's body again.

The kisses Russia placed on America's lips soon waned and had fallen back down his neck and then toward his chest. The younger nation made much more pleasing sounds when Russia's lips pressed against the grooves of pectorals and abdominal muscles. When Russia had taken a nipple into his mouth he sighed around it, rolling the bud with his tongue before pulling at it with his teeth.

He could feel the way America arched into him, almost turning at a strange angle if just to press more of himself into Russia's mouth. But soon enough Russia let go and lathered the other bud with the same amount of affection. After Russia's turn, America would have to fight for his right to do the same.

Pressing chest to chest, America desired to sit up. Russia didn't allow him to do so, simply because he enjoyed that frustrated look amongst his flushed features too much. Before a giggle was even attempted in the throes of creation, Russia had found himself suddenly flipped over. The twist had brought the both of them closer toward the edge of the bed, but not near close enough to cause a hazard.

Stretching against the sheets, Russia relaxed under America's body, watching the way the boy rolled his hips against him, straddled him with strong thighs and made to rub every part of his body. Russia had almost recalled a time in America's adolescence years when the young country had been so sexually needy that he pounced on Russia at whatever chance he got. The memory brought a smile to Russia's face because he recalled having to officially take off time from his duties until America's needs were met . . . and with America being in teenaged age form for so long, well, Russia was gone from national duties for quite some time.

His thoughts were pulled away from the memories when he felt the obvious touch of lips against the head of his penis. Eyes blinked and as he looked down he realized America had scooted down and was now sitting on his thighs while leaning over, gripping the Russian's cock in one hand while pressing his lips to the head. The suction was soft, almost like nibbles, simple teases to the foreskin until America pressed his tongue out, rubbing the underside while slowly slinking down the organ.

Russia could feel the way he throbbed and grew in America's hand. The stimulation from his descending mouth made the Russian hot all over, and now he was burning to the touch. The way America's hand twisted around the base of his cock make Russia swell, and he had to calm himself before he began bucking into the younger nation's mouth prematurely.

With eyes opened and lips parted, Russia contained his bodily urges if only to keep America on him, sliding his mouth over his shaft. In the time it took the western nation to do so, Russia continually held his gaze on the decorative ceiling. Eyes scanning over paintings and decor while his body shook with pleasure.

A quiet gasp left his lips when he felt America's lips move against the base where those tan fingers continued to rub and caress the veins curling around the shaft. He stayed there for a moment before pulling back and suckling the head of the phallus and then moving back down again. Gasps and grunts came out of Russia's mouth while his spouse orally pleasured him with an expertise that came from centuries of routine and practice. He could feel the entire engulfing process; moving past America's teeth, wiggling tongue, bobbing uvula, and then down a shuddering esophagus.

Skin moved with how hard America sucked, hallowing cheeks to turn the organ in his mouth red. Russia's cock was thoroughly lathered in spittle, making it easier for America to slide back and forth on him, and it wasn't too long after America picked up his pace that Russia could feel himself swelling to near discomfort in that hot mouth.

But he no longer offered words of warning or concern to his bedmate. They had been lovers for so long that neither needed any signals of state. Both were well-versed in the ways of pleasuring their partner's body that nothing was needed save consent.

Finally, America popped off of Russia's cock with a breathless gasp. His hand still held the throbbing organ, holding it still from any twitches. The young nation's lips were plump from the actions earlier, coated with slick saliva that sheened in the moonlight and the small gleam of precum that was wiped away with a swiping tongue. When Russia looked down at the boy he felt a shiver rush through his body. America's eyes were dark, lidded, and pleading.

Yet those eyes held Russia still in a sort of paralysis. He could not move when the boy looked at him like that, and so watched in stillness while America moved, settling one knee on each side of the ancient nation's hips.

When America leaned down and kissed Russia, the older felt him reach behind, taking hold of his heated manhood and then pressing the leaking head to the ring of the younger's entrance. With their second kiss shared, America slid down, not stopping until every last inch wedged inside him. The boy moaned out in Russia's mouth and the older happily ate every sound.

With their kiss broken, the two rested lips against the other's mouth, panting heated breaths while their hands roamed, feeling the body of the other in a mapping and soothing way. One of Russia's hands rested down on America's hip while the other slid down the boy's spine, tracing fingers along the couture before pressing his palm against the small of his back. The moment Russia's hands moved to guide, so too did America, rolling his hips before rising up with strong muscular thighs and then falling back down to slide all of his husband into him.

"I-Ivan . . . ughn." Russia would never grow tired of hearing America's moans and gasps. The sounds made him hold his love that much tighter, reaching up to caress that passion-riddled face. He swept golden bangs out of fluttering blue eyes while America leaned back and moaned again whilst rising and falling on Russia.

Their movements were so much synchronized that neither felt the need to push and pull with hands, but they clung to one another desperately, just to feel the way limbs trembled and bones jutted in perfect motion. The feeling of America's kisses to his palm sent sensations down throughout Russia's arm that at first made his fingertips tingle before the feeling drifted down further and settled within the cavity of his chest, drowning his beating heart with the love he's had for this man across so many lifetimes.

Eyes fluttered when Russia felt America beginning to clutch him. He would open himself to create an easy entrance when he lowered himself down before rising and tightening his walls. Russia groaned from the actions and now both of his hands were gripping the young nation tighter, nails digging in to mark tan skin, while fingers curled to bring about bruises.

Russia caught sight of his cock whenever America rose. He was swollen, his base thickening while the veins curling along it throbbed with so much heated blood. He was shifting to a redder color while Russia then noticed America's small struggle to fully seat himself on the organ. The swelling size was stretching the younger country with each sit, and when Russia began bucking his hips upward to help in assisting America with taking all of himself into his body, the older noticed the shrill pleasure lacing America's face.

Golden brows crashed together, eyes squeezed shut, teeth grit before pulling lips into the mouth to bite. America's chest was heaving, Russia could see how his chest muscles quivered with each breath. The sweat precipitating across his flawless skin made him shine and glow in the rays of the moon. He was always such a sigh to see in the throes of their lovemaking.

"Alfred," Russia gasped out as his hand reached up, pressing against the boy's leaning neck. The pulse beneath his touch raced, and when blue eyes fluttered open to look at him, Russia desired a kiss. And America granted him one.

The young beautiful nation leaned down and pressed his lips to his husband's. Lingering there until either saw it fit to pull apart. America had opened his mouth, urging Russia to enter the other orifice. The moment Russia pressed his tongue inside he felt the boy clamp his teeth down onto the slick strong muscle and then begin to suckle it as he had done with Russia's cock.

The ancient nation moaned his approval of the action while his hands rubbed up and down America's rolling hips until reaching around and squeezing that pert ass. The gasp that America made came with the act of letting go of Russia's tongue, only then had Russia pressed his tongue in deeper, sweeping behind teeth and underneath the boy's own shivering tongue.

Their mouths moved against the other; sucking on lips and then tangling tongues. It was in this dance that Russia pressed his chest upward, colliding into America's while knocking the boy off balance. Now it was Russia who was pressing the younger nation into the sheets, his hands running down from hip to thighs that spread all on their own.

With a roll of his hips, Russia picked up the rhythm he had thrown. The feel of his cock swelling made it as if America's walls were simply tightening. He hummed at the feeling and rubbed the inside of America's thighs to help him relax with his girth.

"Oh . . . oh!" America tossed his head back into the sheets, his hair fanning out around him, cascading like golden silk. Those eyes clenched shut continually fluttered long beautiful eyelashes that brushed the boy's high cheeks. America's hands weren't so much gripping Russia above him as they were the sheets they lay upon. His fingers curled into the fabric, pulling and tearing—this wasn't the first bedding they've ruined.

"Ivan, oh . . . yes, Ivan!"

America's pitch was growing, as were the trembles in his body. Already Russia could feel the way America's inner walls shuddered against his penetrating shaft. Russia, himself, shivered at the feeling of his testicles bouncing off of America's ass, pressing up against him so close until only they remained dangling out.

His movement had become a little more forceful if just to continue to press his swollen, dripping cock inside his mate to finish. Their moans, gasps, and groans were familiar echoes to their bedroom walls. It was a sign of their close relations as their people's love and respect for one another. As long as the Americans and the Russians awoke to celebrate another day of unity together then so too would their nations awake in the other's arms.

"Ivan!" America gasped again, his eyes opening and fingers releasing tore bed fabric if just to cling to his spouse's body. "Ivan, ah! C-C . . . inside, please!"

Hips smacked against pelvis upon the plea. Russia could not help himself while he leaned down and kissed America's breath away. He could feel those young strong hands moving up his back, one pressing against his neck as if to make their kiss more intimate, while the other hand of the boy's reached up and tangled into ashen locks. Russia groaned out a moan before shoving himself into his mate as deeply as he could and let himself come undone.

"Mmmngh, ah, yes, oh . . . yes . . ." America sighed out in their final moments, himself having orgasmed without so much as a need for touch these days. His own cock rested against Russia's stomach, hot and pouring out the evidence of the pleasure it took from rubbing against the ancient nation's abdominal muscles.

In the time America ejaculated, Russia had reached between them and rubbed the younger nation's cock while it expelled its built up contents. America's sighs turned into short moans. In truth, America very much enjoyed the feeling of Russia's cock pumping out its seed and filling his depths more so. He hummed at the feeling as his walls stretched around the swollen cock if only to accommodate the wide expanse of the semen expelled.

The two nations had remained still for a moment, basking in their connection renewal and the other's presence. The sounds of their panted breaths arose and reigned until satisfied sighs left out of their mouths and their bodies calmed into a state of relaxation.

"I love you, Alfred," Russia whispered against the boy's chest that he now currently rested on top of, if just to listen to that quickly paced heart slow its beats. "Say that you love me as well."

The fingers carding through his hair, slowed for a moment, opting to cup the base of his skull in a cradle-like fashion instead.

"You know I do," America responded softly.

The feeling of his knees rubbed Russia's hips soothingly while the young nation occasionally clamped down on the softening cock still lodged inside him for a closer feel when they embraced afterwards.

There was a silence before America spoke again. "You're going to be like this in the morning, aren't you?"

Russia felt content in America's arms, feeling his restless soul take to peace. At the question he hummed, his mind not alert enough to make connections behind the meaning of America's words just yet.

"You know, like this morning," America reminded, his hands now running down Russia's neck and back. "Every night we make love as if we're afraid of losing each other in the next moment, and then, come morning you awake from nightmares and hold me as if you had recently witnessed the death of me." There was an annoyed sigh, but the matter wasn't further delved into.

Russia remained quiet in this and only held onto America tighter. The idea of falling asleep only to dream of times when the both of them were enemies, of when they sought to end one another was daunting. Dreadfully horrible.

"We will handle that when morning comes," Russia answered instead, trying to ease any troubles he might have placed on his husband. Instead, Russia smiled and leaned up on his elbows to view the beauty beneath him. "Why don't we fill with excitement for tomorrow, hm? I'm certain you are eager to see the newly opened territory."

America grinned and nodded with glee while his hand clasped his own tightly. "But only if you're with me."

"I wouldn't know where else I'd want to be," Russia replied contently, leaning down and nuzzling against America who returned the affection.

Another silence enveloped them while they held one another, basking in the aftermath of their passion, and eagerness for the morrow. It had been when America sighed that the silence broke.

"Ivan . . . what do you think about the colonies?"

Russia smiled, leaning to his right so to lay beside America instead of on top of him. Now he looked at him, amethyst eyes gazing into deep sapphires.

"I cherish them and respect all the hard work their parenting nations put into their creation and stability. I believe that one day, many of them could even become nations like us." Russia reached out to caress America's face, enjoying the way America nuzzled back in return. "What about you? Are you wishing on starting colonies of your own?"

"Well, with much unexplored territory just opening, these places will need civilizing, and would be perfect land for colonies, but, no . . . I do not want to start colonies of my own."

Russia chuckled. "Then why the sudden interest? You have a point, and I would wish others to populate these places." Again. "These lands I've given to you firstly. If you wish to colonize then you so have the right to before all others ask for permission to settle."

America was quiet for a moment. In fact Russia noticed he hadn't even been looking at him. He was unsettled by some thought.

"Actually . . . I would only approve of that idea if . . ." Sparkling blue eyes finally looked back toward Russia and the most loving smile curled America's lips, baring his pearly white teeth to glow in the silvery moon rays. "You colonized with me."

Russia blinked. It was honest to say he hadn't expected his spouse to suddenly interest himself with the formation of colonies, nor spout his longing to only colonize with him. It was an endearing notion, yet one that Russia, in all his thousands of years of lifetime, hadn't seen coming.

"B-But that'll be after we've explored and mapped everything out, and possibly made trips to the moon. It was just a thought, one you don't really have to think on right now."

America's ramble let Russia know that the boy really had been giving this idea some thought, perhaps for a long time. Russia wondered how long.

With a sigh, America's gaze drifted over the moon's rays falling over them. His fingers traced the light before he muttered, "I wonder if the moon could be colonized. That would be funny, huh, Ivan?" America had laughed, trying to make their topic a little more lighthearted.

Russia offered him a chuckle at the thought, but then leaned up on his arm and pressed a kiss to America's temple. "I do not know if that will work so well." Not saying that they couldn't try of course. "But we will firstly colonize earth before trying to reach beyond."

Russia felt America stiffen underneath his lips and when he pulled back to look at his face he noticed the surprised look he was giving him. It made Russia laugh again.

"This look is becoming you. Already I've seen you wear it today."

America didn't flush or pull his gaze away from the humorous observation. Instead he leaned forward, making sure no jest was hidden within Russia's gaze. "You . . . you'd really colonize . . . with me?"

Russia smiled, reaching for America's hand and holding tightly onto him. "As long as it's only with you."

America's sudden wide smile was even bigger than when Russia had seen him looking at what once was called Mount Rushmore. It was endearing, as it was when the boy lurched forward, arms stretched wide if only to wrap around Russia's neck so tightly he nearly choked him to death. His sudden push had Russia rolling onto his back while America slid on top of him and straddled him in the tight hug.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" America praised, squealing with exuberant enthusiasm. He had about squished Russia's cheeks when his hands came to press against the sides of the ancient nation's face. Planting kiss after kiss on his spouse's mouth was welcoming and Russia simply complied with America's show of appreciation.

When America pulled back his smile was soft and breathing back under control. "You really have changed, haven't you?"

Russia nodded, his hands rubbing the small of America's back. "You are my equal, Alfred. Whatever you want, so will I."

America nodded in understanding before wrapping his arms around Russia again and then leaning against him, resting his form down on top of him.

"Then I will wait impatiently for tomorrow," the young nation said dreamily while closing his eyes and wrapping himself around Russia's essence. "Even if you wake up in a fright like usual, I'll be here to tell you of all the things we have planned together. And I know . . ." America sought Russia's hands and clasped them both to hold throughout the night. "That you'll be just as happy as I am right now." He then moved Russia's held hands to his sternum where his heart beat against. "I love you, Ivan."

While America drifted off into sleep, Russia held him tight, himself looking forward to the rising sun and the bringing in of a new day. The daunting notion of falling to sleep to dream of such harsh memories still weighed on Russia's mind, but he knew that with America by his side, he'd be able to move on each day and slowly put that tormented past behind him.

And even . . .

Even if this was all a dream . . .

Even if Russia was just envisioning this moment, this lifetime, as a means to cope with the distraught and tragedy in his life during his end before he faded to nonexistence, then he would gladly admit to his content. This day in paradise was everything to him, and it helped his heart beat again as if he were alive; something he's never really had the chance to feel in any lifetime . . . except now.

Perhaps this really was a dream then.

And so Russia closed his eyes on the day to discover if this was or wasn't some paradise conjured just to appease his tattered and shattered heart in the end.

The End