Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

1961

Alfred held his son close to his chest with his right hand as he stared in to the cold and unforgiving amethyst eyes of his enemy; in his left hand he held a cold metallic black gun ready to defend his family from the intruder. Beside him on the bed lay a girl with long brunette hair that framed her face beautifully. She looked as if she was sleeping if it wasn't for the blood that trickled down her face from the impact of his enemy's silver pipe to her forehead. She was a strong girl and Alfred was almost positive that she would survive. She had survived so much more before this. "Get out," Alfred hissed; he could feel the boy began to shake in his arms from fear. Fear Alfred had never wanted his little one to face. Peter was so tiny, though he was almost a century old he only resembled a toddler, Alfred enjoyed raising him.

"Neyt." Came the silver haired man's response and pointed his pipe to the small boy. "Who is he?" Alfred looked down at the silver haired boy in his arms, Peter Brangski Jones the representation of Alaska who had Ivan's silver hair and chubby build but Alfred's sky blue eyes and contagious smile. The best of both of them the other states had often remarked to Alfred. Almost all of the other states enjoyed watching the young one whenever Alfred had to leave for a World Conference or a NATO meeting or even to go off to war as had been the case ten years ago.

"He is of no concern to you." Alfred hissed back pushing Peter even further into his chest, he would be damned if Russia too him away now, not after hiding him away for the past hundred years from everybody. It wasn't that he was ashamed of what he had done, well not until nearly fifty years ago when the Soviet Union emerged and Ivan Brangski, Alfred's love, had changed into the heartless man he was now.

"He is my son." The silverette responded, "I want him now." His tone was menacing, and no nonsense the way it had been since the takeover of the Bolsheviks in 1917 in that awful October Revolution. After that his Vanya had disappeared and replaced with a much colder version.

"Never," Alfred responded mustering up all his hate in that one word. Peter was the most precious thing in the world to him, his son, his only son. Ivan reached out to touch him but Alfred jerked himself backwards so that the Russian missed touching their son and caught his right arm instead.

"Give him to me." The Russian hissed and jerked the American backwards with his grip on his right arm.

"You come into my house in the middle of the nights and then demand that I give up my son to you. I don't think so. After this you're not coming within a ten foot radius of Peter." Alfred declared,

"He is my son too." He hissed

"Daddy," Peter whimpered and clung to the American, "Daddy, don't let him hurt me, Daddy." Alfred dropped the gun that now hung limp in his left hand and wrapped both arms around his crying son whispering soothing words into the boy's ear.

"I will protect you, I promise, Petya." Alfred whispered he had chosen the Russian nickname for Peter to call the boy as a pet name to remind the boy of both of his heritages. Ivan took a step back from the bed where his ex-lover lay protecting their child. And then he left leaving Alfred with only more confusion as to the interworking of his enemy's mind.

"The scary bad man is gone." Peter said and Alfred looked at his son wearily, was that how he had taught Peter to perceive his father? A scary bad man?

"Yes, but Petya, that man is your father too." Alfred said quietly as if he could hardly believe it himself. He ran his hand through Peter's silver hair to soothe the boy. He laid the boy on the bed and picked up Abigail brushing the blood from her brown bangs with his hand. She had been one of the first friends he'd ever had and they had been through a lot together. He was glad though that only she had been staying over here tonight or someone might have gotten seriously hurt.

"Did we get him Alfred, did he hurt Peter?" she whispered her green eyes revealing her connection to the settlers who had colonized her lands first and the country they had originated from.

"No, Ivan escaped, but Peter is safe." Alfred said carrying the state to the bathroom so that he could disinfect the wound she had sustained.

"I'm okay Alfred, really." Abigail protested, "You know that Theo will freak out when he finds out and then I'll have to convince him that Massachusetts can take care of itself and doesn't need New York's help." Alfred chuckled; Massachusetts and New York had two of the biggest rivalries in the history of states. Both had major cities that had been around since the colonial age that had often competed for trade and emigrants back in the day. Now days thought they maintained a healthy rivalry when it came to their baseball teams The Boston Red Sox and the New York Yankees.

Alfred laid the brown bottle of alcohol beside her as he dabbed her forehead with a cotton ball soaked in the substance. She cringed slightly as the wet ball touched her open wound. "He found out about Petya, he knows the truth now." Only Abigail's green eyes gave away her surprise at the news. She was too well trained in the art of espionage to reveal feelings like that. In fact it was only that Ivan had caught her completely off guard that she'd even been injured the way she had been, every spy has an off day. Abigail's job was to protect the young boy when Alfred wasn't around and even at times when he was around; it was the job she had chosen when this whole mess started.

"Daddy, Abby, I'm scared." Peter said toddling into the bathroom; his blue eyes were filled with tears of fright from being scared that night.

"Come here Petya," Abigail said holding her arms out to the boy as Alfred pulled a ban-aid out of a drawer in the sink's stand. "Did the big scary man hurt you?" Peter shook his head and tottered over to Abigail.

"Can you watch him, Abby? I need to phone Kennedy to tell him of Russia's intrusion tonight. Plus I don't think phoning Arthur would hurt too much either." Alfred said rubbing Peter's silver hair. "Stay with Abby okay, Petya?" he said bending down on his knees to hug his son and kiss his forehead.

"Okay, Daddy." Peter agreed watching his father leave the bathroom.

"Jackie, ah yeah I know it's late." Alfred said a white phone that was connected to a white box that hung on the wall by a curling wire was tucked in between his shoulder and ear. He paused for a minute listening to the first lady response.

"What do you need, Alfred?" the woman asked, Jackie was a sweet woman and was a favorite of the people.

"I need to talk to John if he's there." John F. Kennedy his President for only about a year now, but he had inspired the people to believe in him and in America, he was definitely one of Alfred's favorite bosses.

"Yes he's here." She said, Alfred could hear noises in the background and then a deeper voice of his president.

"Hello." Was Kennedy's response,

"Russia was here tonight. He attacked Abigail and was after Peter. I'm afraid that he'll attack us next." Alfred said in a rush, standing vulnerable in the middle of his kitchen made him nervous after the night's advents.

"You mean attack the US?" Kennedy said as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Yes sir," Alfred said seriously doubting that he or the White House would get any sleep that night.

"Alright, I'll have the men looking for ways the Russians could possibly attack us." Alfred nodded and then the phone hung up. Then he heard Peter's cry and Alfred ran down the hallway leaving the phone hanging to find the boy.

"Daddy!" Peter cried, he was tucked into his bed but in the moon light Alfred could see the tears that ran down the boy's face. "Daddy the evil man wants to get me. He's there." Peter pointed at the open closet; cautiously Alfred peered in looking for the face of his enemy only to find Peter's clothes and toys. The boy was seeing shadows, but Alfred understood that, sometimes he saw the faces of the men he had killed and those he knew he had killed but had never seen their faces that he made up for them in the shadows at night.

"Come here, Petya." He said soothingly, holding out his arms for the boy to enter. The boy ran to him and Alfred swung him up in his arms and carried him back to his own bedroom so that they could share each other's presence as they slept.

He tucked Peter into the covers beside him trying to shake from his mind the fear of losing the boy to his most hated rival. He stroked the boy's hair before opening his mouth to sing the boy a lullaby. "Baby mine don't you cry, baby mine dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine." Alfred looked down to see Peter snuggling close to him as he sang that song from that one Disney movie with the elephants what was it again, oh yeah Dumbo. "Little one when you play, don't you mind what they say. Let those eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear, baby of mine." He looked so peaceful now that he was sleeping, as if the intrusion of Ivan only an hour ago couldn't disturb him. Children really were a joy to have around weren't they? Maybe that was why Arthur had been so desperately trying to keep him around back then. "If they knew sweet little you, they'd end up loving you too. All those same people who scold you, what they'd give for the right to hold you."

"Oh there he is," Abigail said in the doorway. "I'm gonna head to bed Alfred, I informed Theo of the situation and he's gonna be here tomorrow as extra security."

"All but of your situation right?" Alfred said, Abigail let out a huff and turned out of the bedroom. It hadn't been his decision to make all of the states who were old enough his body guards. That had been an order from Truman and none of the Presidents since really had, had the time to get rid of it at Alfred's request. The Soviets certainly kept them busy didn't they? He sighed and looked back down at Peter who was still asleep despite the interruption to his lullaby.

"From your head down to your toes, you're not much, goodness knows. You're precious to me, sweet as can be, baby of mine. All of those people who scold you. What they'd give for the right to hold you. From your head down to your toes, you're not much, goodness knows. But you're precious to me, sweet as can be. Baby of mine, baby of mine." As he finished the song he laid his own head down and went to sleep exhausted after the rough night with the intrusion of Ivan.

"Moya lyubov." Ivan whispered seductively, "I have missed you." He pressed Alfred into the tree and their lips met for the first time in a long time.

"Vanya" Alfred moaned wrapping his fingers in the Russian's silvery hair that he loved.

Alfred woke up, slightly panting and the feeling of Ivan's lips still lingered on his own. The dream had been so real and yet so very much fictious at the same time. He doubted that he and Ivan could ever go back to the time before Communism, before the Bolsheviks. "Hey Alfred," said Abigail, she had a knack of always knowing when he woke up. "Arthur's on the phone. He says it's urgent." Alfred smiled, something urgent with Arthur could mean something as little as burning a pot of tea this morning.

"Okay, I'm coming." Alfred rested his hand on his sleeping son's back. A smile formed on the sleeping boy's face making Alfred wonder if the boy could feel him even while sleeping.

He padded his way down the hall to where the phone was. " 'ello?"

"Alfred, thank heavens, they want me to work with that beast of a man." Arthur said automatically, "I don't think I can do it. There's just too much animosity between me and old frog face."

"You mean to say that you called me to tell me you don't want to work with Francis? Jeesh Arthur, tell him you love him and get over with. How long have you been in love with him? For the past I don't know forever." Alfred snapped, some might say that the rivalry Francis and Arthur had rivaled that of Alfred and Ivan's though with at least eleven hundred years more history together and plenty of wars. If their hatred for each other was still as strong today as it had been back five hundred years ago, Alfred was almost positive both countries would be at just as much of a Cold War as he and Ivan were.

"It's different then with you and Ivan. Sure you to have thrown insults at one another, but you've never really hurt each other before. Francis and I have almost killed each other before. It was a long time ago, but memories like that don't easily go away." Arthur said with a long sigh afterwards. Alfred only raised his eyebrows.

"He tried to take Peter last night." Alfred whispered staring at the blue painted wall of his kitchen. "He was in my house; he attacked Abigail and tried to take Peter. I don't know what made him leave." Only three other personifications besides his states knew the truth of Peter's heritage, they had all been with Alfred during his pregnancy with the boy, Arthur, Francis and Matthew. "I don't even know how he found out the truth."

Toris quaked in fear as the murderous rage radiated from the Russian man who had returned home late last night in said mood and had offered no explanation for his sudden absence nor had anyone asked him to divulge it either. No one remained in the room too long with him, not even Natalia who had always seemed immune to Ivan's anger. Of course Toris had his suspicions about what had aroused the Russian's anger and what had caused him to leave so quickly and even his destination.

For a brief twenty years or so, Toris had been a free man. Free to do what he wanted no longer forced to live in the same house as Ivan or his Baltic neighbors. He had been able to be with his lover Felix whenever he wanted and he had worked in Alfred's house as a way to help his country gain money in the tough economic crisis. During his time there he had met a young boy, hardly looking two years old with silver hair and sky blue eyes, who represented the territory of Alaska. His name was Peter, but Alfred often called him Petya the Russian nickname for Peter. It hadn't taken Toris very long to put two and two together as to who Peter really was. Though he had never confirmed his suspicions with Alfred, he also had never mentioned the boy at all to Ivan. But Toris was almost positive Ivan had found out about the boy and his relationship to him. And he had gone to America last night to take the boy by force from Alfred, something the proud country would never allow, in fact if Toris had heard the rumor mill correctly Alaska had become the forty-ninth state of the US and seeing as Peter was a state now there was no way Alfred would give him up without a fight.

That's not to say Toris hadn't enjoyed the time that Ivan had been away from the house. He had snuck out of the house last night himself and greatly enjoyed his night in Warsaw with Felix. And Elizaveth had whispered to him at breakfast this morning that Gilbert had snuck out of East Germany last night as well and had spent time in Canada with Matthew. How those two had even met was beyond Toris' knowledge.

"Toris," Ravis said as he visibly shook in fear, he was staring at the double doors across the hall from where the two stood. "I-I h-ha-ave t-to g-get som-some-th-thing f-from Ed-Eduard an-and-" Toris silenced the boy, the dining room was the only way to enter the kitchen where Eduard was and that was where Ivan was wrecking his havoc on the house from.

"It's okay," he said putting a hand on the younger nation's shoulder. "I'll go get it."

He entered the dining room quietly, futilely hoping that Ivan wouldn't even notice him crossing the room to get whatever Ravis needed from Eduard and back without the Russian noticing him. Of course it was pointless, Ivan's eyes followed him from the moment he walked into the room, his eyes no longer hid his murderess intent for the rest of the world. And then he moved like a lion hunting his prey towards Toris who didn't dare move. "You knew, you knew." He said as he stalked towards him. Toris swallowed what spit was left in his mouth he knew exactly what Ivan was referring to. "You knew about Peter!"

"No!" Toris said in his defense he'd never gotten confirmation his suspicions. "I knew of him, he's, he's the representation of the State of Alaska, Alfred never told me he was your son." Toris covered his mouth as he realized what he had just said. "I… I suspected. He has your silver hair." The Russian kept advancing forward, his left arm pulled back and swung. His fist connecting with the side of Toris' face and the beating had only begun. This was why Toris had never mentioned Peter to the unstable Russian, sure there had been a time when Toris could say he hadn't been afraid of him, but these past century had been filled with bloodshed and revolution after revolution no country was sane after that, just look at Francis after his revolution, he tried to conquer Europe. And he especially wouldn't tell Ivan about Peter now, knowing the truth about Ivan's heart.

Author's Note (the part of the story where the author comes out and write a silly note): Hello again, this is my first RussAmer story. Yes I know that Peter is the name for Sealand as well. I forgot that when I was originally writing it, was corrected by a friend and when I tried to change the name, nothing stuck. Alfred and Ivan's son was Peter in my head. So sorry about any confusion you might have. I don't expect Sealand though to make an appearance so hopefully no harm no foul right? Please review and tell me your thoughts and comments. Remember flames are sent to the llama gods, constructive critism is welcome not the please burn your computer and never write again, that's not helpful or very constructive.