Russia was lonely. Oh God, how he was lonely.

Ever since Lithuania and the other Baltic states had split away from him and left his (rather massive) house, He'd had almost no one to talk to. It didn't help that all the other nations were avoiding him since he purposed that the Motherland aide in the war against Iraq and Afghanistan. It seemed the last thing everyone wanted was for him to get his hands on someplace warm, of all things. Well, what if he didn't want the land? What if all he wanted was to end the damn war that America had managed to drag out for twelve years? All this trouble over a few buildings...

Ivan shook his head, bringing himself back to the task at hand, which just happened to be drinking as much vodka as possible. He honestly couldn't help himself; it was how he dealt with anger and depression when there were no smaller countries around him to take it out on. He tilted his head back in an attempt to get the last dregs of the liquor before slamming it down on the desk in front of him. He glared across the darkened study at the large portrait that dominated the wall it hung on.

"Mudak, so much for making Russia a great country; you only make me feared and hated," He growled. The painting didn't move, General Winter's icy gaze remained fixed on some unknown distance. Somehow, he managed to resist the urge to spit; instead, he reached for another bottle of his favourite liquor.

Barely an hour after Ivan was cut off from his drinking by his rather brave Secretary, a messenger knocked on his door. The nation straightened his coat – Not his beige overcoat today, unfortunately – and called the young man in. He shook as most did in his presence, but kept himself relatively composed as he announced that the Canadian ambassador had requested an audience with him.

"Did he say what he wished to speak of?" Ivan asked, appearing uninterested.

"No, sir," the messenger said curtly. For the life of him, Ivan couldn't seem to remember his name. Ah well, it matters not. "He did say he needed to speak with you immediately, though. He barely gave me enough time to alert you," a nervous laugh escaped his lips, which he sealed shut instantly. God, was there anyone who could speak head on to him without being so damn afraid?

"Thank you, Private. You are dismissed," He sighed and sat back in his chair when the little man left. He really didn't have the patience for people like that. He just about reached for his glass – of water, and not of the "Russian" variety – when he heard someone yelling outside the large wooden doors.

"…Let me in or…get outta my face you…like those Yankees!" Was all he managed to hear before the doors flew open and an irate Canada stormed in.

"Russia!" He yelled, slamming his fists on the desk. He was panting - probably from yelling at the guards posted outside the study – and sweat beaded on his brow. "You are one of the hardest men to get a hold of,"

Ivan was surprised at how loud and angry Mathieu was. Usually he was a very calm and polite man, only speaking when asked a question and often kept to himself - aside from Alfred, whom he was constantly getting confused with. He seemed like he had never fought a day in his life, let alone yelled at someone.

"You seem troubled, my friend," He said, wincing inwardly at his accent. He really should practice his English more. "What is wrong?"

Mathieu looked away for a moment, his hands curling into fists as he tried to calm himself. "I'm what's wrong," He managed to say. "I'm not different from America; therefore no one ever remembers what I've done for them. My culture isn't even my own, it's a mixture of every country that I've allowed in my borders. My people are considered idiots or cowards," He looked up, determination in his blue-green eyes. "And that is something I intend to change. I have had it with being the country that no one remembers. I want to write my own chapter in the history books, and I will do that in the only way the world seems to recognize things. I purpose that we wage war against America,"

Russia searched the other country's face for a clue, some hint that he was joking. He saw nothing. This country, the most silent and respectable of all of them was dead serious." What are you saying, Mathieu?" He asked, lacing his fingers together and placing his chin upon them.

Canada just grinned. "I'm saying I want your help," His grin didn't falter when Ivan laughed. He just narrowed his eyes, causing his face to look something akin to one of Ivan's own.

"Ah, what a sweet day this is; the two largest countries in the world starting a war together - and against America no less. Come, sit, we have much to discuss. I assume you brought your war cabinet with you?"

Canada just continued smiling, a ghost of a laugh escaping his lips.

X.x.X.x

"So how do you purpose we do this?" Ivan said, sitting at the head of the long table. They were in what he called his "War Room", consisting of a rather large table and various portraits of long gone Generals and the like. At either end sat the two countries, and on the sides were their bosses and various officials. Canada had regained his composure and sat calmly, smiling slightly.

"Sabotage," responded one of Canada's war advisors. The middle-aged man's voice was clear of any emotion, as was his face as he ruffled the papers in his hands.

"I beg your pardon?" called Russia's president from the other end of the table.

The Canadian advisor sat up even straighter and cleared his throat. "We have received information that the Taliban are planning on sabotaging something, ah, rather important, shall we say, of ours. On the date specified, our forces will be preparing to join the US Army in a battle not far from Kabul. It will require little effort to make it seem as if the Americans did it,"

"After which," continued the Prime Minister of Canada. "We can easily get our people on our side. There will be trust issues at first, but we can handle that,"

Ivan leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. "And what will you have us do?"

Mathieu snapped out of his reverie. "I want you to support us. Ever since the Cold War you haven't been on very good terms with Alfred, am I correct?" When the Russians nodded he continued on. "Nothing major at first, of course. That would seem suspicious, considering you haven't had very much contact with the outside countries for awhile. When things become more serious, I will request military aid," The blonde paused and looked over the rims of his glasses. "Will you?"

"Da, we will," Ivan responded immediately. He never really cared for the American, really. Too noisy. "By the Motherland," The other Russians repeated the oath in unison.

All the while, Mathieu smiled.

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A/N: WHAT IS THIS I DON'T EVEN-

Yeah. I'm terribly sorry this sucks so much. I honestly didn't really pay attention to this much while I was writing this and I haven't written in a few months...Not to mention I don't have a well. Parentals said it was fine,so it's all good. Also, this is Canadian grammar...yeah it's different STFU.

And I'm really sorry for making Canada/Mathieu so OOC. But really, no one notices him. He needs to grow a pair of balls. U

Mudakis a Russian term for "testicle", but it can also be used to say Asshole and...something else,I forget.

Reviews would be nice~ they could totally help inspire me with the second chapter.