Russian Republic

By Coco Gash Jirachi

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!

Summary: Future human world AU. FACE family. Russia and China invade and conquer America, taking many of its citizens as hostages and bringing them to Russia as prisoners of war, and to sell them off as slaves. Purchased by none other than Ivan Braginski are Alfred and Matthew, while their parents remain prisoners of war. Their comfortable, free lives in America are forever gone. But are Ivan's intentions as sinister as they first appear? AmeriCan-cest, but doesn't last forever. FrancisxArthur. Possible future IvanxAlfred. Mentions of and future mpreg.


Hey there guys, Gash-chan here with my first multi-chapter Hetalia fanfic! There is a bit of a back-story to how this came into fruition, so, I suggest you read this authoress note before you continue. Thank you.

About two weeks or so ago, my brother and one of his friends were talking about the invasion in Ukraine and were talking about rather economic and political topics, but somewhere along the line, I heard them talk about how one day, though they were probably joking, that eventually the US would be beaten down in a war or invasion of some sort, most likely from Russia or China or both, and become something like the Republic of Russia or Republic of China or West China; something like that.

Normally I try to stay away from politics and the economy when it comes to subjects of discussion, but... because this is easy and also a challenge for me to write at the same time, I'm just taking the idea and rolling with it. I can already picture how I'm going to end it.

And I also normally try to stay away from making Russia/Ivan look like a cruel person just for the sake of being cruel, but... in this case it has to be done, and I'm going to reveal his back story later on as well.

And now I'll shut up and let you read, if you please.

Don't like? Don't read. It's that simple. :P


Prologue: Captured


The Russian invasion overtook the United States far more quickly than anyone had anticipated.

The United States, while not at war with Russia, had been at odds with them for quite some time. For decades, America always served as the world's superhero, swooping in and trying and failing to maintain peace while spreading democracy and trying to crush communism and totalitarianism. As valiant as the country's efforts were, little did they know that the world's biggest country wouldn't stand for it anymore. Little did they know that their country's back-breaking debt would result in the alliance of China with Russia in order to put the so-called "superhero" country in its place, as well as receive just punishment for their debt to China and the rest of the world.

The sheer size of Russia as a country, alongside that of their army made invading America all too easy. With China aiding them, the so-called "greatest country in the world" were nothing but sitting ducks.

Before long, most of the people had become citizen soldiers in their own rights, but not many stood a snowball's chance in Hell at surviving on their own for very long. Life in the United States soon turned into a post-apocalyptic-like setting. Kill or be killed. Or to be captured by the Russians and shipped to Russia as prisoners of war.

Little did the country know just how hellish their worlds would become once they were conquered.


It was dark, cold and quiet when the family of four began to stir. They were in a small, concrete room with no windows and a large, heavily-secured metal door kept them from reaching outside of wherever they were. All that was in the room with them were a few old, tattered blankets and two small bottles of water. A lone toilet sat in the corner of the room.

The family consisted of Francis Bonnefoy, a France-born, naturalized American citizen along with his husband, Arthur Kirkland-Bonnefoy, also a naturalized citizen. Their sons were Alfred and Matthew, a pair of identical twins whom were born in two different countries; Alfred was born in America when they were on their way across the American-Canadian border during a road trip. After arriving in Canada and trying to find their way to the nearest hospital, Matthew had been born at the side of the road by a Mountie. The boys were physically alike in many ways. They shared the same blue eyes that their father possessed, and each of them had golden-blonde hair and required glasses to see.

Upon waking up in what they could only assume was their new prison cell, they discovered the twins' glasses were missing, as were Arthur and Francis' belts and ties. Later on, after their sons went to sleep, Francis came to the morbid conclusion that it was because the Russians figured they could use their ties and belts to hang themselves with, or the glass from the glasses to try to kill themselves with.

All they had were the clothes on their backs, and Matthew's most beloved stuffed animal; a soft, furry polar bear he almost never let out of his arms. Alfred was at least happy that he was still in possession of his favorite jacket; a brown, insulated bomber jacket with a star crest on the breast pocket, an airplane patch on the upper left sleeve, and the number 50 on the back.

And of course, they were relieved that they were still together.


There was no way to tell how much time had passed. None of them had a watch on their person, nor any way to contact the outside. They were only given bread and water what they assumed was only twice a day through a slot at the bottom of the door. There was nothing for them. Only to eat, to drink, and wait.

Finally, one day, not long after they had awoken, the door was opened and a bright light was cast upon them. Each of them lifted an arm to shield their eyes as they squinted. In stepped two soldiers, one large and muscular with a scar on his right cheek and dark brown hair, the other shorter and stouter with sandy brown hair.

"Vy govorite po -russki?" the larger solider said.

When none of them responded, the other man said, "Do you speak Russian?"

Francis, sitting closest to the door, shook his head. "Non." While defending themselves and fighting the invading Russians for weeks, the four had picked up on the meaning of some Russian words and phrases, but not nearly enough to understand the language entirely.

"Tch," The brunette spat in amusement with a smirk. "Pokhozhe net nikakogo bor'ba ostavili v nikh." (1)

The shorter nodded and said, "Kazalos' by tak." (2)

Arthur knitted his large, bushy eyebrows together and pursed his lips together in an attempt to keep from snapping at their supposed captors. He didn't appreciate them being talked about by the two without their knowing what they were saying.

The brunette soldier locked his hands behind his back and began to speak again. "Kak grazhdane Soyedinennykh Shtatov Ameriki, vy zaklyuchennyye Rossii za soprotivleniye preobrazovaniye nashey strany nashey kul'tury na vashey."

"As citizens of the United States of America, you are Russia's prisoners for resisting our country's conversion of our culture onto yours." the stout one translated.

Arthur fisted his hands and bit his bottom lip to keep from snapping at them. Francis did the same, unable to hold back the angry snarl that appeared on his expression. His teeth were bared in anger, and he suppressed a growl, to his own surprise.

"Vy mozhete byt' udivleny, pochemu vy byli arestovany." the large man spoke again.

"You may be wondering why you have been arrested." the translator spoke again.

Francis nodded once.

"Amerika byla v dolgakh s Kitayem v techeniye dostatochno dolgogo vremeni, vy vidite. Ne imeya vozmozhnosti platit' ikh obratno s den'gami, kotoryy imeyet fakticheskoye znacheniye, Rossiya sovmestno s kitaytsami, chtoby vtorgnut'sya v vashu stranu i zabrat' to, chto naiboleye tsenn."

"America has been in debt with China for quite some time, you see. With no way to pay them back with money that has actual value, Russia teamed up with the Chinese in order to invade your country and take what is most valuable."

Francis, with his brow wrinkled, uttered, "'What is most valuable'?... But, wouldn't that be gold and silver? Diamonds? Platinum?! Oil?!"

"Tch," The large soldier smirked again. "Zhalkiye." (3)

Francis snarled again, growling quietly in his throat. "Why did you take people? What sort of sick, twisted sense of power does this give you?"

The shorter soldier appeared to repeat the Frenchman's question in Russian, who then spat out a laugh again and responded in a voice so sinister. Soon, their translation was given.

"Because there is no greater source of power. We've succeeded in bringing down the greatest country in the world. Now we must put them in their place."

Before he knew what he was doing, Arthur had jumped up onto his feet and lunged at the tall soldier, successfully knocking his fist into his cheek. All this did was make the large soldier stumble backwards a bit, and as Arthur felt his energy completely deplete from his one strike he sunk back down onto his knees dizzily, flinching as he saw a foot coming his way. However, to their surprise, the stout soldier held back the larger soldier, speaking hurriedly to his superior. "Ostanovit' sebya srazu! Nam skazali, chtoby ne prichinit' vred etot, uchityvaya rezul'taty yego meditsinskogo skanirovaniya!" (4)

The larger man growled, then pulled himself free from the stout man. "Vsego vam povezlo, ublyudok." (5)

Arthur, with a hand near his temple, growled and lifted his head. "You have no right to hold us here... we're not even natural-born citizens!"

"Citizens are citizens, American trash." the stout one spoke before the two soldiers stepped out. "You're lucky we're not allowed to lay a hand on you. Yet."

The heavy door slammed shut, cutting off the bright light and the four from the outside of wherever they were. As the tumblers of the locks were heard turning into place, all four of them huddled together with Arthur in the center of the group.

"Mother, why did you fight them?..." Matthew asked in his little, quiet voice as tears streamed down his cheeks. "You told us not to resist them..."

"I'm so sorry, all of you..." Arthur responded. "I lost control of my temper. My survival instincts must have kicked in..."

"But..." Alfred's eyebrows knit together in confusion as he lifted his head up. "Why didn't they fight back?..."

"They're probably trying to play some sort of sick mind-trick on us, tout petit," Francis said, laying one of his hands on his son's cheek. "Trying to make us look like the bad guys for trying to fight them. Like we're animals."

Arthur's head began to nod downwards in his dizziness, immediately being pulled into Francis' arms. "Boys, lay out the blankets. Mummy needs to rest..." Francis said quietly, stroking his husband's hair and resting his head against his shoulder.

"Mn," Arthur's forehead wrinkled slightly.

Upon laying down the blankets, Matthew sacrificed his teddy bear by placing it beneath their mother's head as he was placed down to rest. Not long after being covered with their most-intact blanket, Arthur was asleep and his husband and sons were sitting against the wall next to him. With Alfred in one of his arms and Matthew in his other, whom also clung onto his side, Francis held his sons tightly and soon spoke quietly to them.

"Boys," Two identical pairs of eyes laid on their father's face; Alfred's shining with as much strength and determination as he could muster, Matthew's still with tears. "No matter what happens to us from here on out, we must stick together. Whatever the soldiers want us to do, we must do it. If we want to get out of here alive, we must do as they say. It's our only chance at being able to go home."

Matthew, biting his lower lip, soon sniffled and shook as he said, "Papa... I don't think there's any home for us to go home to anymore..."

Alfred, turning into his father's side, buried his face into his shoulder. 'I really hope that can't be true...' he childishly thought.


To Be Continued...


1: "Looks like there isn't any fight left in them."

2: "It would appear so."

3: "Pathetic."

4: "Stop yourself at once! We were told not to physically harm this one, given the results of his medical scans!"

5: "Count yourself lucky, you bastard."


... That's part one so far! I've been hoarding the chapters I'm writing of this for a while now because I wasn't ready to post it. I finished up to chapter 8 so far, so depending on how good of a reception this receives, each next chapter will be posted rather quickly.

If I get five reviews or ten favorites before a few days pass, I'll post up chapter 1 immediately. Does that sweeten the deal for my dear readers? I certainly hope so.

So, until next time, please review and favorite!

Every review will be read and greatly appreciated, even if I don't respond to them all.