Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

So I've been struggling with a little bit of writers block. I have a list of stories I want to write, but it's just not working. I've wanted to write a story about Ivan's relationship with the last Tsar's family for a while, and funnily enough it's the only story I can more or less write. I've also added a little bit of interaction from Matthew, not sure if it'll be romance or friendship.

I've twisted the events and perhaps even a little bit of the Romanov's personalities to make the story flow a bit better. This is a work of fiction and don't judge the actual history this story is based off of how I depict them ^_^ However I'll try and make the events true to their history.

Italics in "" marks means that they are speaking in a language that's not English.

-The World Meeting, 2015-

"Fucking Commie! I'll kill him the next time I see him!" Alfred swore while he held up a tissue to his bleeding nose. The meeting was adjourned early and the nations had practically evacuated the room. His bloody nose was the result of a possibly insensitive joke about the Romonav family, and the Russian responded by nailing him in the face with his bottle of vodka.

Matthew worriedly returned with to the now empty meeting room with an ice pack and pressed it against the lump on the back of Alfred's head. "I wouldn't have gotten hit if it was his damn steel pipe." He growled, but winced when the action sent a shot of pain up his nose.

England scowled at the idiotic remark. "You bloody idiot, you should be grateful it was just a plastic bottle full of liquor, and not his pipe." Arthur scolded while he knelt down on the hardwood floor to check his former colony for any signs of additional injuries.

"What? It was plastic? God damn it, I thought it was glass- I didn't want his shit to spill all over our documents. If I had just known- Fuck!" Alfred growled and struck the ground next to him.

Arthur scowled at the American's foul language and flicked him on his forehead as a reprimand. "Watch your mouth, and it's partially your fault. The Romonav family is a touchy subject for Ivan, you know that." Arthur mumbled under his breath.

Alfred had the tact to at least look a little guilty and sagged his shoulders in mild defeat. He couldn't deny that claim in the slightest. "Ivan just kept pushing me Iggy. So what if I just mentioned how he and Rasputin were a bit similar?"

Arthur sat down cross legged in front of his former charge and gently pushed his chin up to look for any other wounds. "It's completely false, and you know how much he detested Rasputin. May I also add that you said a lot more than that." Arthur mumbled under his breath.

Matthew shifted the position of his ice pack and searched through Alfred's slightly damp hair with his fingers to search for any signs of a bump- or a crack. His fingers briefly ran over a solid lump, but it was already flattening out. Matthew couldn't find any other injuries and let out a quiet sigh of relief. Thank goodness they healed fast.

Alfred turned around and flashed his brother a winning smile before he grabbed the ice pack with his free hand. "Thanks Mattie, I appreciate you getting me some ice." Alfred wrapped his arm around Matthew's neck and brought him down closer for a brotherly hug.

The Canadian winced when he detected the faint scent of blood and squirmed his way out of the headlock. Really, how could his brother seem so nonchalant after just angering the most dangerous nation in the world?

"You should really watch what you say Al." Matthew voiced his obvious concern.

Perhaps it was the influence of his people in recent years, but Alfred had become increasingly loud and insensitive. While the majority of Americans were more or less considerate, the more obnoxious ones dominated the internet- and it seemed to have taken its toll.

Although Alfred frequently apologized for his newfound rudeness, and was able to more or less curb it, a particularly nasty remark would sometimes make its way out.

Alfred tentatively removed the bloody tissue from his nose and victoriously grinned when no more blood came out.

"I'm working on it… Hey, can you go and make sure Ivan doesn't go postal on this hotel? I'm pretty sure I'm the last person he wants to see… and I think he's the last person I want to see." Alfred said slowly as he dabbed his nose with a new tissue.

Matthew didn't hesitate and agreed. He and Ivan were on friendly terms with each other. While they occasional had a salty discussion about a hockey team, it was safe to say that they weren't enemies. Arthur helped a wobbly Alfred back onto his feet and he nodded to Matthew before they parted their ways. Matthew became the only nation in the room and his rifled through his documents on the table.

Kumajiro interrupted Matthew's sorting with a tug on his leg, "Do I go back alone?" Kumajiro asked in his flat voice. The Canadian stopped what he was doing and looked down at his polar bear. Matthew's eyes softened and knelt down so he could place an affectionate kiss on the top of the bear's head.

"Oui, I'm sorry Kuma. Here's the key to the room. We're on the seventeenth floor." Matthew held out the key, and the bear grabbed it with his mouth.

"Okay. Don't get raped." Kumajiro turned around and marched towards the elevator.

Matthew sighed, Kumajiro's insight was terrifying at times. He gathered his things on the table and hopped on the elevator a few minutes later. His bluish violet eyes scanned the faded elevator buttons on the wall and pressed the button for the twentieth floor. The elevator dinged and the metal box began its slow ascent to the top of the building.

He glanced at his watch and loosened his tie as the digital numbers on the wall slowly increased. The elevator door made an annoying sound to alert Matthew that he had reached his floor. He stepped onto the carpeted floor of the hotel and took his time getting to Ivan's room.

Matthew tried to come up with a plan as he walked. He would go and knock on the door… and then when Ivan answered he would ask how he was doing.

Matthew suddenly became nervous when he realized he didn't have much of a plan at all and sent a silent prayer to the skies above. He hoped Ivan didn't answer. Matthew gave the door a gentle knock and flinched when the door moved. However, there was no further answer- and his previous fear was replaced with concern. He inspected the doorframe and tentatively pushed back against the closed door.

When the door moved, Matthew couldn't help but wince. Ivan had broken the door. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. Even the most oblivious of people could sense the dark and negative atmosphere on the other side of this piece of wood.

Matthew psyched himself up and rolled up his sleeves. He was Canada! The second largest nation in the world!

But Ivan was the largest.

He owned the arctic circle!

But so did Ivan.

…

Matthew's shoulders deflated and he slowly pushed the door open. Sometimes his biggest enemy was himself. Matthew scowled, whatever- Ivan was still his friend, and he would do everything he could to help him. with this in mind, he gave the door another knock before he opened it to alert Ivan of his presence.

Matthew took a tentative step inside the room, and surveyed the potential damage.

The room hadn't been destroyed like he had anticipated. In fact everything was intact, neat, even. However the problem was Ivan. The lights were off, but the curtains were open, and it let in the faint and obscured light of the sunset to filter into his room. Ivan sat at a small table near the window.

His ever-present smile was on his face, and his bottle of vodka, or bottles, he should say, were on the table and the empty ones were on the floor next to his seat. Ivan's violet eyes seemed even more prominent in the dim light as they stared into a wall, seemingly lost in thought.

Matthew's heart stopped, and a familiar sensation built up in his chest.

"I-Ivan?" he managed to get out. Ivan seemed to take no notice of him and took another shot of vodka- effectively emptying his fourth bottle.

"When a person doesn't answer the door, it usually means they wish to be alone." Ivan's smooth and seemingly innocent voice possessed a terrifying coldness and it made the smaller nation's blood curdle. Matthew thickly swallowed and closed the door behind him.

"He. Instead of 'they' it's grammatically correct to say 'he' or 'she'... 'one' could work as well." Matthew developed a cold sweat, when he was nervous he turned passive aggressive. He couldn't stop himself from correcting Ivan's grammar.

Ivan's smile widened, a gesture Matthew had come to dread, and he slid his violet eyes over to the Canadian. "I see. Perhaps in speaking it seems more natural? If that is all, leave." The last word had a bit more force to it than the rest.

"…I didn't just come here to criticize your English. I came here to see how you're doing." Matthew provided the reason why he was risking his life to see the angry Russian. Ivan shrugged in response, but the action was stiff.

"I am fine. Still an alcoholic, but I am no longer communist- much to the dissatisfaction of your brother." Russia seemed to refuse to say Alfred's name. The room's temperature dropped a few degrees at the mere reference to the loud-mouthed American. Matthew decided he should also try to avoid mentioning his brother.

"Well your door isn't okay." Matthew stated, his usual soft tone was less evident under the strain of experiencing Ivan's silent bloodlust. Although it wasn't directed at him, it was nearly unbearable.

"Me and my door- my apologies. My door's condition, and my condition are two different things." Ivan corrected his grammar. He was initiating a word game with Matthew, which relieved him.

"However the condition of the door is also reflective of your condition when you closed it." Matthew dared to challenge.

Ivan leaned back in his chair and fascinated himself with his empty shot glass. "Nyet, you are wrong. I did not close the door, I opened it." Ivan seemed to delight in finding fault with his statement, but even his happiness seemed hollow.

"Well all the more reason for me to be worried. Although I'm thankful only the door's lock was broken." Matthew dared to relax a little. Ivan hadn't done anything yet, and if he really wanted him to leave he wouldn't still be talking with him.

"…There aren't any bugs in the room." Matthew felt the need to assure Ivan that they were the only people in the room.

"I know… I suppose you will not leave unless I tell you some sort of deep, dark secret about me, da? There are no deep and dark secrets comrade, only memories." Ivan said the last part a bit nostalgically. He drummed his fingers on the table and smiled, perhaps the alcohol was finally getting to him. "But if you wish, you may sit at the table as well- however you will not leave until tomorrow morning." Ivan pulled out another bottle of vodka and uncapped it.

Matthew took off his shoes in the doorway and shuffled over to take seat across the sullen Russian. Ivan didn't talk at first and just drank, seeming to collect his thoughts before he spoke. When the sun was almost gone from the sky, and when Matthew was just about to fall asleep, Ivan finally spoke.

"Perhaps I overreacted." Ivan reflected on his earlier reactions. Matthew snapped out of his drowsiness and gave him his full attention.

Ivan wasn't even looking at him and seemed to be talking to himself as he once again, inspected his shot glass with greater concentration.

"I…Ah, I have had a lapse of judgment, da? I shouldn't have let that idiot American get the better of me. But I could not pass a chance to give him a bloody nose…. Perhaps I should go apologize by sending him some more extra small condoms." Ivan seemed to have made up his mind about the matter.

Matthew blinked, did that mean everything was okay? For some reason his eyes trailed down to Ivan's hands and noticed how tightly Ivan was grasping at something in his lap, and knew the Russian was far from okay.

"Ivan? You don't need to apologize, Al was just being an ass." Matthew tried not to bite his lip. As much as he hated throwing his brother under the bus, he needed to get to the bottom of this for the future safety of the nations- and to satisfy his own curiosity.

Ivan laughed and tapped his glass a few times on the table.

"Da, perhaps." He mused, obviously pleased. For the first time since he arrived, Ivan actually looked at Matthew and gave him a small nod of acknowledgement.

"However, I believe you wish for a further explanation? I do not mind, such a thing is history, almost a century old." Ivan poured himself another shot and downed it without hesitation. "You see- you and Alfred were brought into this world in regrettable circumstances." Ivan began without prompting.

"You will never understand the bond us old nations shared, or in Arthur's case, share with our royal family. My best and worst days were spent with them… However in my case, as you know, my family was permanently ended in 1918 during the Russian revolution, in a little house in Yekaterinburg. Tsar Nicholas was an apt ruler- he had his good days and his bad days. I was quite fond of him, but his children were even more wonderful. They would have all become great rulers."

Ivan didn't hide his fondness for the Tsar's children, but he downed another shot and a twisted smile came onto his face. "Da, Alexi was a smart child. He was smart and kind, although his reign would have been short, I believe it would've been good. Anastasia was also a good child, I was very fond of her… not in the way you think." Ivan immediately reprimanded the scandalous look Matthew gave him.

"…I loved her like any adult would love a child, but as she grew and I remained the same- her feelings changed." Ivan took another shot. Matthew sharply inhaled and he leaned back in his chair. So it was like that. Ivan must've caught the look in his eye, because he waved his concern off.

"But that is the end of the story. First, I must start from the beginning. From when Anastasia was born."

-June 18, 1901; Peterhof Palace, St Petersburg-

Ivan looked out of the window of his room with a thoughtful expression. The day was sunny with a pleasant breeze. His surroundings were picturesque, and the day was the embodiment of calm. The palace in Petergof was always wonderful to visit during this time of year, and he was sure that he would've taken a walk, if it wasn't for a certain queen who just so happened to be in labor.

"Of all the unholy evils, will this child just come out!" Ivan faintly heard his queen scream in English in the distance. Ivan adjusted his scarf and absently sketched a field of sunflowers to pass the time.

"Ivan! Where is Ivan, bring him here! He must help!" Ivan's pencil jumped upward at the mention of his name, putting a clear black mark across his field of softly sketched flowers. Not a second later, a frantic looking English maid pounded against his a sigh, he tossed his sketchbook onto his desk and opened the heavy wooden door with his usual smile.

"Hello." He pleasantly greeted.

The woman hurriedly curtsied, "Mr. Braginsky, the Queen requests your assistance." Her words were fearful and nervous. Ivan closed the door behind him and gestured for her to lead the way. "Empress." He lightly corrected the maid.

The woman paled and quickly led him to the queen, "Yes, my apologies." She muttered. Ivan strode along the brilliantly decorated walls of the palace with his hands behind his back. After taking a few turns, the maid led him to the closed doors where the empress was having a difficult time with the latest addition to the family.

Ivan rasped on the door and announced his presence before he slipped into the room. The Empress, Alexandra, relaxed upon seeing him and told the doctors to make way.

"Ivan, I'm sorry to trouble you like this a second time." The woman apologized, sweat ran down her brow, and the maids seemed scandalized to see Ivan in the same room when their empress was in such a vulnerable situation.

The Russian's smile never waned and he removed his gloves and his coat. He rolled up the sleeves of his white button down shirt and carefully laid his scarf along Alexandra's desk.

"It's not a problem. Many Empresses have needed my assistance before you." Ivan assured her.

After a couple hours of very unladylike curses and Ivan's perfectly calm instructions, the youngest daughter was born. Ivan drained the fluids out of the baby's nose and mouth and gave her a few smacks on the butt.

The blissful sound of a crying newborn alleviated all tensions in the room. The Russian smiled at the strawberry blond haired child and immediately gave her to one of the maids. The ladies immediately wrapped the girl in a soft blanket and gave the newborn to her exhausted mother, who lovingly held her in her arms, but couldn't hide her disappointment.

They were hoping for a boy.

"Thank you, Ivan." Alexandra tiredly smiled at the nation. Ivan inclined his head ever so slightly, and disappointedly looked at his bloodstained shirt. He promptly requested that one of the maids opened the door for him.

"It seems that another one of my shirts have been victimized by yet another one of your children." He poked fun at the empress to possibly lighten her spirits. The woman laughed, "I suppose so. I hope that the next child will be the last… Ladies, please make sure that Ivan has a warm bath and give him a fresh change of clothes." The queen instructed one of the idling maids.

The young woman paled, but obediently curtsied and opened the door for Ivan.

Ivan's nose twitched as they walked along the halls, it was itchy but he couldn't scratch it or else he would risk getting blood all over his face. How troublesome.

"W-we shall have a bath ready for you in few minutes, but there is a sink where you can rinse off before you get into the tub right here." The woman stuttered. Ivan nodded to show his appreciation, but her instructions were unnecessary. He knew this palace better than anyone.

"Thank you… Ah, if it isn't the three musketeers, soon to be four?" Ivan greeted the bounding children in Russian.

The two eldest siblings flinched at the sight of him covered in blood, but the two politely curtsied. "Is mother well?" The oldest child, Olga, boldly asked.

Ivan gave them a small nod. "Yes, however she is a bit tired. Where is the youngest, Maria?" Ivan asked when he noticed the youngest wasn't with them.

The two girls nodded, not seeming to care about the last bit of his sentence and politely excused themselves from his company before running off to wherever their mother was. Ivan watched them bound off and sighed. That's right, Maria was just a year or two old- she was probably in the nursery. Once he answered his own question, Ivan shut the bathroom door behind him and rinsed his bloodied hands in the cold water of the sink.

Once the majority of the blood was off of him, Ivan quickly stripped off the rest of his clothes and slid into the steamy waters. A blissful sigh escaped his lips and he leaned back in the ceramic tub. He needed to be in a good mood when he would greet the Tsar later today, so he might as well try and enjoy himself now.

Ivan playfully waded in the warm waters of his bathtub until a fateful, and frantic knock on his door alerted him of his boss' arrival.

"Russia? Are you in there? Can I come in?" Nikolai's voice was strained, just barely composed.

"If you do not mind me being in the bathtub, you are welcome." Ivan returned in Russian.

Almost immediately, the sovereign of Russia entered the steaming room with a nervous air around him. He paced around in the room, and it was an action that Ivan found immensely amusing. The Tsar put up a good front in front of the other nobles and politicians of his court- but in front of Ivan he seemed content to let his guard down.

"It appears that Alix gave birth to another girl." Nikolai's Russian was sharp and unhappy as he referenced the latest addition to their family. Ivan shifted in the waters of his tub and splashed some water onto his hair.

"She is a wonderful and healthy girl Nikolai. Your wife is also strong, you can try for another one." Ivan calmly assured the frantic tsar before he got up from the tub.

Even when the steam obscured him, Nikolai could make out countless scars from the past, and the assassination attempts marked by knife wounds on his neck. The sight of such horrendous scars almost calmed him and he handed Ivan a towel.

The nation's marred body was almost proof of his experience with many monarchs before him, so he must surely he must know what he's talking about.

The Tsar slowly nodded and turned away to give Ivan some privacy. "You're right. Ivan, please accompany me there. It's contrary to custom, but I… I'm unsure of how I will react." Nikolai's request wasn't desperate, it was more like he was asking an old friend for a favor. Ivan quickly dressed himself and dried his hair off with his towel. He wrapped his trademark scarf around his neck and put on a dark brown jacket.

"I do not mind…but your children have never been particularly fond of me. Neither have the English maids." Ivan shook his hair and gave it one last good rub with a towel before he headed out with his now perfectly composed Tsar.

Nikolai gave the nation an eye roll, "Perhaps if you spent more time with them they would be less afraid of you. As I recall you used to play with me almost every other day." Nikolai remarked. Ivan sighed and waited at the door of Alexandra's room. "It's different because you were a boy."

Nikolai didn't have a chance to argue Ivan's point since the doors swung open before he could utter another word. The two stood up a bit straighter, and the maids in the room politely curtsied. "Tsar, M-Mr Braginsky." One of the maids greeted them.

The doors swung shut behind them and Nikolai strode over to his tired wife. Ivan caught him taking a deep breath, possibly to compose himself, before he hesitantly ran a gloved hand over his daughter's head. "She is healthy?" Nikolai asked in English as he removed his gloves. Alexandra nodded and handed the bundle over to her husband, who seemed relieved.

"I see… are there any names you're particularly fond of?" He asked his wife. The empress shook her head no, "I named Maria, so you can name this one."

Nikolai looked over the child and smiled a smile that reached his eyes. "Anastasia is a good name? I'll do something special, perhaps I'll free those pesky students who rioted. Anastasia is a good name, what do you think Ivan?" Nikolai looked up for Ivan's blessing.

The Russian tried not to hide his surprise, the man had never asked for his blessing before- but he supposed he shouldn't make a big deal out of it. He directed his pondering, but reserved violet gaze onto the sleeping newborn and gave a small shrug.

"It is a fine name. Anastasia- I believe you translate it as the 'breaker of chains' in English. A very fine name for this occasion. Perhaps she will break the long chain of girls, because as lovely as they are, I believe that you are greatly outnumbered Nikolai." Ivan revealed the more playful side of him as per Nikolai's instructions. The three girls giggled, and Anastasia began to cry.

"Oh dear Ivan, you've made her cry." Alexandra playfully chastised while Anastasia wailed in her father's arms. Nikolai held the baby out to Ivan with mock disdain, and a rare playful glint in his eye.

"Ivan, you made her cry. Take responsibility." He snapped in Russian. Ivan cleared his throat and allowed uncertainty to flash across his face. He didn't know why the family was suddenly in such a good mood- and he was a bit wary to sudden changes of behavior. But perhaps the birth of a baby was something to be celebrated-

"Ivan! Take her! She isn't going to bite." Nikolai switched back to English for the sake of his wife and interrupted the Ivan's train of thought. The Russian automatically held out his arms to receive the crying child and glanced at the giggling girls. Did he look funny to them? Trying to hold their little sister?

Nikolai carefully placed the fussing child in the nation's arm. Ivan adjusted his hold on the baby and gave it a strained smile.

"Hello little one. You really like to scream, don't you?" In response to the tense nation, the baby screamed louder, and even the maids couldn't hide their laughter.

"Ivan, you can't give her that scary look!" Olga, the eldest of the three sisters admonished. Ivan tilted his head and scowled, "I always look like this." He said defensively.

"Waaah!" The baby screamed even louder.

"Loud, too loud. Ivan's no good with children!" The second eldest child, Tatiana, clapped her hands over her ears and ran to her mother.

Ivan childishly blew up his cheeks in response, what could he do? It'd been years since anyone had let them even go near their child with the rare exception of childbirth, let alone hold them.

When Ivan puffed up his cheeks, the room suddenly went silent. Everyone was astonished at how calm Anastasia suddenly became, and Ivan looked down into the little child's eyes with a curiosity that rivaled even the most inquisitive of cats.

His violet eyes clashed with the girl's blue eyes, and she giggled. Ivan tried to ignore how she seemed to slobber all over his precious scarf and focused on her more attractive tributes. He took a finger and mildly poked her chubby little cheeks, much to her amusement.

"You must grow healthy, da? You are much cuter when you aren't covered in blood." Ivan did his best to initiate small talk with the infant, much to the amusement of the family. Anastasia seemed to bury herself into Ivan's chest and went back to sleep with a grip on his scarf.

"I haven't seen that expression on your face before." Nikolai remarked when he took Anastasia from Ivan's arms. Ivan adjusted his scarf and resumed his usual smile. "I don't know what you're talking about." He dismissed the Tsar's remark. The man merely shrugged and allowed him to leave.

Ivan bowed his head before slipping out of the room, as silent as a ghost. With the previous crisis now absolved, he thought he could go on a nice and long walk. The guards saluted Ivan as he left and the Russian breathed in the fresh air of Petergof.

He strolled in the wonderful and well-maintained gardens of the palace and absently picked a blue flower from a hedge. He stared long and hard at the flower, before he tossed it aside. The color couldn't compare with Anastasia's eyes. He abruptly stiffened at the thought and sharply inhaled.

Distance. He reminded himself. Regimes rise and fall every day, he never knew if or when he would have to separate from this family.

He took a few minutes to push the young child from his mind before he continued on his way, perhaps he should go and write a letter to Toris.

Ivan detailed the day Anastasia was born with great affection and vivid detail to a keenly interested Matthew.

Matthew listened to Ivan talk with great interest, and a soft smile had come across his face. Even though Ivan didn't explicitly say it, it was obvious that he greatly cared for the little girls. When Ivan detailed his interactions with the queen, Matthew couldn't hold back a question.

"Empress Alexandra didn't speak Russian?" He asked curiously. Ivan laughed and shook his head as if he was recalling the memory.

"Nyet, she did, but she wasn't very enthusiastic about speaking it. Alexandra wasn't very comfortable with speaking because of her slight accent, however it wasn't bad at all. She was a German born, English raised princess.

"She spoke many languages, English and French being her strongest suites, I believe she also spoke German. As a result, the little princesses spoke in either English or French to her, while they spoke Russian to their father." He fondly recalled his sometimes amusing exchanges with the queen.

However before Ivan could even begin to delve any further into his past, the sun peeked head over the tops of the buildings. Ivan glanced at the sky with surprise and leaned back in his chair and popped a few bones in his back.

"Ah, it seems I've forgotten myself. I've talked all night and Matvey has been forced to hear a senile old nation talk about the past. Many thanks comrade, I feel much better now." He sincerely thanked him.

Matthew perked up when Ivan stood from the table and flashed him his usual smile. "Well, although I only told the beginning, I think this is very good for me. Perhaps I should start writing journals?" Ivan remarked.

Matthew flashed Ivan a supportive, but disappointed smile. He wasn't tired in the least, Ivan was a remarkable story teller and he was greatly interested in Ivan's relationship with the Romonav family. "Y-Yeah… if you need anyone to talk to I'd be more than willing to listen." Matthew tried not to sound too eager as they left for breakfast.

Matthew barely took a step before he heard someone gasp next to him. He turned to see his brother, white as a ghost, with apologetic flowers and chocolates in hand.

"Y-You, you, you, you fucking Commie! How dare you defile my brother?" Alfred scandalously screamed. Matthew nervously looked at Ivan, whose destructive purple aura was spreading throughout the hall at an alarming rate. The American marched up to the two nations and violently jabbed his bouquet of flowers in Ivan's direction.

"I don't care what kind of shitty mood you're in, that doesn't mean you can just rape my lil' bro! That's not cool! Damn it, here, these are the 'I'm sorry' flowers and chocolates I got for you." Alfred shoved the things into Ivan's hands and seized his brother by the arm.

"This settles the score! If I find you defiling my brother again, I'll nuke your ass so hard that Siberia will become a fucking desert! C'mon Mattie, let's go have breakfast." Alfred parade his protesting brother away.

Matthew vainly tried to wrestle his arm from his brother's iron grip and gave Ivan an apologetic glance. The Russian stood in place with a broad smile and waved his friend goodbye.

Ivan watched Matthew until he disappeared from sight and glanced at the rather nice looking bouquet of flowers in his left hand and the chocolates in his right. While they were probably really expensive, he couldn't bring himself to like them given the situation they were handed to him in.

Just as he pondered whether he should eat the chocolates or burn them, he felt a small tug on the bottom of his pants. He looked down and raised an eyebrow when it turned out to be the bear Canada always had with him. It looked up at him with its black eyes and eyed his flowers.

"Hungry. Can you take me to what's-his-face?" He blandly requested. Ivan glanced at the flowers in his hands and offered them to the bear. "Do you like tulips and roses?" Kumajiro seized the flowers from his hand and gobbled them in less than five seconds. Ivan paused and seemed to further inspect the bear.

Was Canada carrying around a polar bear, or a garbage disposal disguised as a bear?

The bear smacked its lips and climbed up onto Ivan's shoulders. "I'm still hungry. I can't eat chocolate. Can you take me to the guy who was here with you?" Kumajiro rested his chin on Ivan's head. Ivan pocketed his box of chocolates and shrugged, "I don't see why not." Ivan said.

He violently jabbed the elevator button and stepped back from the elevator doors. He looked down at his most prized shot glass in his hand and gave it a thoughtful squeeze, as he thought, the past wasn't so easily forgotten. He had yet to decide if that was a good or bad thing.

Ivan stepped into the elevator and tapped his foot on the metal floor. Perhaps if Matthew would permit it, he would tell more about the Romonav family. It was rather fun recalling the past.

He ignored the small voice in the back of his head that warned him of the future of the family, but he pushed it in the back of his head. He would indulge in the sweet memories of the past for a little while longer. Just a little.

The first chapter is done! I think I'll shorten the present day interactions in the future so that most of the story is about Ivan and the Romonav family. Tell me what you guys think! If I worded a sentence weirdly or it doesn't flow, don't be afraid to call me out for it!

As always, criticism and thoughts about the chapter are always appreciated. Make sure to favorite this story if you liked it and follow it to get regular updates :) Hope you guys liked the chapter!

~Preuss