A/N: Hello! Welcome to my story, a rather ambitious project in which I hope to write a realistic historically accurate account of the Eastern Front of World War II from the perspective of our favorite personifications, because of the scope of this conflict this story will contain many many characters from both Hetalia and Nyotalia. I will also refer to them with their human and country names interchangeably though I will do my best to keep it from getting too confusing. At the same time because I want this story to be realistic many characters won't be portrayed in the stereotypical way they are usually portrayed, Russia is not going to go 'kolkolkol' or carry his pipe all the time, Belarus won't be chasing after Russia, and so on. In other words what I wish to do it have the characters act as if they actually existed during this conflict in the real world. If this is a problem for someone then I don't recommend they continue. (Though I hope everyone would give it a chance.) I must also warn that this story will not shy away from the harshness of the time, World War Two, and the Eastern Front especially, was one of the bloodiest conflicts in recent history and there are hundreds upon hundreds of conflicting accounts and stories thus I will do my best to stay accurate. So, lets see if my experiment works out and thank you.

"Did you hear me Comrade Braginsky?" the secretary asked, his voice sounding small and shrill as it came through the telephone. Russia sat in silence, his mind still trying to process the news he had been given mere moment's ago. "We're at war with Germany!" Those were the words which had been shouted into his ear when he answered the call that had jolted him out of his sleep five minutes ago. Turning his eyes to the clock hanging next to the calendar Ivan noted the time, 04.00 hrs, the date- June 22, 1941. Sunday...he attacked me on Sunday, the traditional day of rest. The Hitlerite Fascist bastard Ivan thought, his chest tightening as he felt his throat close up. How could Ludwig have done this to him? After he had gone out of his way to keep the German government at bay, his boss had even ignored the advice of his generals to strengthen the troop presence at the border, just in case the Germans mistook it as a threatening gesture. And for what? The cowardly bastard attacked anyway!

Ignoring the voice asking if he was still on the line Ivan slowly placed the telephone receiver back onto it's cradle, "God..." he groaned, "Good God we've been dragged into another war..." Feeling panic welling up inside of him Ivan was quick to wipe the feeling away, he couldn't panic now, he couldn't but it was so hard not to. Fighting back the worry Russia began to pace the room, trying to collect himself so he could think clearly, to keep himself from over reacting; but the more he tried the more upset he became. Not only because of the horror he felt of dealing with another war but also the anger he felt at how unfair the whole situation was. After all that he'd been through, the Great War, The Revolution, The Civil War, The complete reversal of the new Soviet State from an agrarian society to an industrial powerhouse, (All having unimaginable costs) didn't he deserve a moment of rest? We just started to reap the rewards of our progress and now all the work is going to be destroyed by war! Those God damned Fascist scums are now going to trample our fields, burn our cities and kill our people! Unable to handle the full weight of this crisis Ivan slammed his fist into the wall of his bedroom and felt a crack in his fingers. Cursing loudly he pressed his hand to his body muttering to himself.

He cursed everyone and everything, not caring who might hear his language and his rage. It was just too much for him, too unfair, too cruel, why was his land always being invaded by some other power which couldn't live well enough in it's own borders.

Leaning against the wall he slowly slid to the floor and sat in the darkness alone. "Oh who am I kidding..." he whispered. "I always knew he would attack, that damn Austrian Corporal who's playing emperor always wanted to attack me. He even wrote it all down in his damned book." Though he understood that war with Germany was inevitable, in the back of his mind Russia had always hoped that maybe, just maybe, Hitler would reconsider his plans. Maybe he could see that invading the Soviet Union was a mistake, but then again Ivan always hoped such things. When Napoleon was ravaging Europe the Tsars were also eager to sign a non-aggression pact with the little monster, and just like now in June of 1812 the French crossed his border; before that the Swedes had invaded from the North, before that the Poles though themselves Slavs had happily invaded when Ivan was still young and weak. Weak from yet another damned invasion he spat and cursed the Mongolian Hordes which had ravaged him so long ago. It all seemed quite unfair to Ivan Braginsky, yet foreign powers never seemed to stop trying to either invade or push him into a corner.

Just then the telephone rang loudly, cutting into his thoughts and snapping him back to reality. Sighing he stood and went to the ringing machine, "Hello?" he answered, trying to keep his voice steady. "Comrade Braginsky, this is Molotov."

Ivan felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, "Yes Comrade Foreign Minister, I'm listening,"

"Comrade Braginsky, I was informed that your connection had been cut during the last call which had been placed to your residence. I was calling to see if you can still be reached and to inform you that in light of the events which have transpired we need you're presence in the Kremlin immediately. I have already sent a car for you."

Russia took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, "Yes, of course Comrade Molotov, thank you." With that he hung up once more and turned to his closet, ignoring his throbbing fingers Ivan went to get dressed. After a few minutes of riffling through the clothing he decided that he would much rather wear something comfortable, yet formal enough not to seem disrespectful, and thus chose a simple pair of slacks with a button up long sleeved white shirt and tie. Despite the heat outside, he also slipped on a black cotton suit jacket, "Good. Perfect." he muttered to himself after a quick peek in the mirror hanging in the bathroom. Ignoring the messiness of his hair Ivan grabbed his keys, wallet, lighter, and cigarettes before leaving to wait for the government car which was picking him up.

The wait lasted half an hour, or two cigarettes, before a dark squat car carefully pulled up to the curb, it's engine purring softly, "Are you Braginsky?" asked the driver, a young man in a military uniform.

"Yes I am."

"I'll need some papers to make sure. Protocol you see."

Ivan nodded with a sigh and fished out his his identification papers from the wallet, as well as his residential registration documents which listed the apartment he lived in and with whom; in his case he lived alone. Taking the papers the driver quickly confirmed Ivan's identity and opened up the front passenger side door for Russia to get in. As the car slithered quietly into traffic Ivan leaned his head against the window and watched the lamp posts slip by, their light reflecting off the black body of the car, with the initial anger and outrage long behind him Ivan felt the fog of sleep creeping up on him once again. I need tea...strong, black tea... he thought, ...or coffee. Though the drink was well known to Ivan because of it's popularity in the southern regions of his former empire, now the southern republics of the Soviet Union, the drink only recently began to top the popularity of tea in Moscow and other major cities of the Russian Soviet Republic. Ivan himself never much cared for coffee, it was bitter and the grains felt like dirt in his mouth, but tonight he could make an exception.

"We're really in a jam aren't we?" the driver asked, breaking the silence.

Ivan lifted his head, "What? I'm sorry, I was falling asleep."

The driver nervously licked his lips, his eyes darting to Ivan, "I was ordered to pick you up by Molotov himself. Molotov rarely goes through the trouble of asking for someone himself so you must be very important." he swallowed, as though regretting that he had spoken in the first place. "You're also not the only important figure going to central. I drove Kalinin there before I was told to get you." he added, referring to the President of the Soviet Parliament.

Ivan sighed, So he doesn't even know he thought, Wonderful To the driver he said, "At the time, I am not exactly sure myself. I am sure that a public announcement of events will be given when the time is right. It always is." He forced himself to smile, though it seemed to help little in calming the other man. Nodding the driver turned his attention back to the road and Ivan leaned back to the window, closing his eyes he allowed the world to go black.

"Hey. Comrade."

Ivan stirred, groaning in protest.

"Comrade Braginsky, we're here, sir."

Ivan's eyes slowly opened and he yawned, he had fallen asleep. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes he stretched the stiffness from his back and turned his attention to the driver. "Thank you." he said, "I much appreciate your quick service."

"I- of course sir." the other man smiled slightly, it was rare for him to be thanked by those he drove around, and his night was instantly brightened.

Just then the door on Ivan's side was yanked open and the round portly face of Vyachislav Molotov appeared, "Comrade Braginsky, we do not have much time to doddle." Turning to face the foreign minister Ivan was met the the steely gaze of the his eyes, eyes which had become legendary for hiding the man's true feelings at all times. Meanwhile the tight lipped confidence radiating from his mouth and jaw gave Russia a slight boost of relief. Thanking the driver once more Ivan slipped out of the car, at his full high he was easily a head and a half taller than Molotov, but the power which radiated from the man was enough to keep even the most intimidating men at bay. It was one of the main reasons Stalin installed him as Foreign Minister in the first place, as he had explained to Russia during a private moment "When I am forced to send someone to look our enemies in the eyes, I want the power of our State to be embodied by him." Ivan had to agree, it took a special type of person to talk to Nazi's and come out on top just by entering the room.

"Shall we?" Molotov asked cordially, gently steering the nation towards the entrance of the Kremlin Palace, the large building contained not only the main seat of the Soviet government but also the private office and residence of Stalin himself. "We shall." Ivan answered with a slight nod and together the two men entered the heart of the Soviet State.

Inside the building Ivan was quick to note that the usual hushed chaos, created by the sound of typewriters, telephones and the soft voices of the various secretaries, was being replaced by the sounds of a desperate military situation. Men and women in uniform rushed to and fro from office to office delivering military reports to their respective superiors while radio and Morse code operators sent and listened for news from the front lines- to Ivan the tension in the room was suffocatingly thick. It's not going well he thought, We were completely unprepared! The horror of this realization sent a chill colder than a Siberian wind down Ivan's back and he shivered involuntarily. Yet, some how Molotov seemed to be completely unconcerned by the fact that the nation he represented was at war, How is he able to stay so calm? Ivan wondered, He must be positively inhuman! but then again Molotov was famous for his ability to hide his emotions where others would have broken down.

Weaving through the chaos to the upper levels of the green roofed building where the Soviet Leadership was meeting the Personification and citizen did not speak to each other, their minds swimming with their own thoughts until Ivan couldn't stand the silence any longer and broke it. "What do we know so far?"

Molotov didn't look back, but Ivan could see the muscles shift slightly in his thick, powerful neck, "It's hard to say." he replied, "Reports are flooding our central command, the generals are scrambling to recover from the shocking speed of the attack.". Suddenly he stopped and sighed, removing the glasses he wore Molotov began to wipe them with his handkerchief, "The truth is...our armies in the west seem to be completely dominated, our air force has been mostly destroyed on the ground, thousands have been captured or killed." he swallowed and replaced the optics onto the ridge of his nose. "Meanwhile Comrade Stalin has locked himself in his office and does not answer to anyone's calls or pleads."

"W-What!? What do you mean?" Ivan asked, his heart skipping a beat, "Has hasn't..." he trailed off too afraid to complete the sentence out loud though his brain did. Killed himself

Molotov shook his head, "I do not believe so. No one heard a shot or furniture being moved."

So he hasn't hanged himself.

"This is why we need you. We hope that his Nation Personified may be able to speak to him."

As the true gravity of the situation pressed over him Ivan felt his shoulder droop slightly, his back stooping lower. If Stalin, who's name meant "From Steel", had lost it what did that mean of all the others? The commanders who were right now watching their men being slaughtered by the Germanic Beast. Enough! I am Russia, I have dealt with worst and this is not my first war. "Very well Comrade Molotov, take me to him."

Nodding the shorter official turned and once again the two of them were briskly making their way to the next staircase.

"Comrade Stalin! Comrade Stalin, it's me. Ivan Braginsky, Russia." No answer came from the other side of the dark red doors where Stalin spent hours working. "Iosif Vassarionovich, answer me!" Ivan suddenly shouted, pounding the doors with his first, "What are you doing! The government needs it's leader!"

"Vanya, please." a soft female voice suddenly spoke up.

Ivan paused and turned his gaze to his sister, Anya Braginskaya, the female personification of Russia, standing behind him. Dressed in a light summer outfit which consisted of a white blouse, sleek burgundy jacket, and a skirt which ended mid-calf she embodied the appearance of the new Soviet woman who was beautiful while also being a productive and useful member of society. "I need to speak with him." he told her, frustration tinting his voice, "What kind of leader abandons his post during a crisis?" Anya frowned and averted her blue eyes. "Exactly." Ivan said turning back to the door.

Pounding on the wood a few more times Russia finally lost his patience and stepped back, "Alright everyone brace yourselves." he said before barreling into the door which heaved and groaned under the force of 84 kilograms slamming into it. Yet, the locks did not break and the door stayed closed, running back Ivan rammed the door two more times before it finally burst open and Ivan shot into the dark office. With the heavy woolen curtains pulled over the large window and lamps unlit, the room seemed more like a cave or dungeon cell than a high functioning office of a Soviet leader and the long shadows created by the single column of light from the open door way only added to the suppressing atmosphere Stalin had created for himself. Yet, the Georgian was nowhere to be seen, at least from the first instant, though as Russia's eyes began to adjust to the dimness he began to make out an unmoving, slightly slumped over shape sitting at the desk. Gasping in horror Ivan ran to see what had become of Stalin and found the man alive, yet seemingly catatonic. He held a bottle of vodka tightly in his right hand and his face was ashen and pale. His mouth a tight frown, and his usually cunning sly eyes which sparkled with charm were dimmed and lifeless. "Comrade Stalin?" Ivan said, taking a seat in a chair across from the man.

"Comrade Stalin!." he said again, louder and more forcefully.

When he got no reply Ivan pressing his palm against the man's prominent nose he felt the flow of air which caused a slightly wave of relief to wash over him. "Sir...Iosif..." Ivan waved his hand in front of the man's face, trying to get a response which did not come. "Stalin!" he suddenly shouted, grabbing the man's shirt and pulling him forward, "Snap out of it, damn it!" he shook the man and pushed him back into the chair.

This seemed to shock the other man out of his revelry and he blinked a few times, almost as though he was caught by surprise and didn't yet know where he was. A moment later his gaze fell onto the country. "Oh Ivan, it's you." he said , then his gaze fell onto the bottle in his hands.

"Can you believe he did it?" Stalin asked, as he took a swig from the bottle, his Georgian accent thicker on his voice, "The bastard actually did it." he shook his head as his free hand, his disabled hand, clenched into a fist causing him to wince in pain. "Out smarted by a...by a Corporal." he added glaring at the hand.

Ivan swallowed, "Yes Comrade Stalin, he did attack but we can't allow it to ruin us." he licked his lips nervously "Hitler will be defeated." he finally added, "We will be victorious."

Stalin turned his gaze to Ivan and leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table, "How?" he asked, "Do you know the number of the Axis troops which have cross our border? Four million...that is what our intelligence is estimating, from the reports... before they were wiped out...and that is not even counting the tanks and planes." he nodded as though trying to assure the Russian that he was not lying before leaning back into his chair with a sigh.

Pausing to let his mind process this, Ivan blinked while the other man took a swig from the bottle. "I've fucked up Ivan." he continued, glaring at the small globe on the side of his desk. "I assumed the monster would act rationally. That was my mistake. I thought he would never risk attacking us before he crushed the Western Front. I was sure it would be in '42. He couldn't invade until 1942." He took another swig from the bottle and muttered something in his native Georgian. "I believed a monster and now...I pay the price." he scowled.

Frowning Ivan took the bottle from Stalin's hand, though the other man was reluctant to give it up,. "That may be so Comrade Stalin, but so did Alexander." he took a swig from the bottle- to fortify his nerves then cringed as the liquor burned down his throat. Frowning Russia glanced at the bottle. "Made from potato..." he muttered then sighed. First I am at war and now I can not even get decent vodka.

The Georgian man blinked and looked at the nation. "Alexander?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"Tsar Alexander I. In 1812, he trusted Napoleon, was sure he would not attack us. If you worry about your mistake imagine how I must feel. I made this mistake twice, I trusted Francis first then I trust Ludwig. Both attacked me and invaded my land." He drank from the bottle again.

"...That's right." Stalin said , "You were out smarted by France." he turned his gaze to the Russian nation, "What did you do?" he took the bottle from Ivan and drank.

"I fought, we all fought. It was the Patriotic War. Our survival depended on it so we all fought."

"Yes...yes I remember now."

Ivan smiled and took the bottle back. "That's right. Now we will fight again." He took a swig, "We will wage another Patriotic War. A Great Patriotic War"

Hearing this Stalin's features softened until he seemed not only relaxed but filled with new confidence. "You're right!" Stalin said getting to his feet, "We will fight. We will all fight and win!"

"Yes!" Ivan agreed, happy that his leader was recovering from the shock of this morning. "Now get yourself together, the nation needs you!"

With this shot of confidence Joseph Stalin, Ivan's boss and leader of the Soviet State stood and began began to put on the military jacket which he almost always wore as best he could considering his inebriated state of mind.

For his part Ivan stood as well and slowly backed out of the room. "I will get you some coffee Comrade Stalin." Ivan said with a smile and then stepped out of the office. Closing the door behind him he turned to the small crowd of officials, "We're back into business." he proclaimed to everyone present. "Now let us figure out what the hell is going on in the west and see how badly we've been hurt."

Anya quietly approached her brother and stood before him, embracing herself tightly, "Vanya, I'm scared." she whispered softly, "I'm scared of what is going to happen. It's not going to be like the other times. I can feel it..." Ivan frowned and gently lifted her chin so she was looking into his eyes.

"Don't say that." he forced himself to smile though he too was worried of what the future had in store, "We have to be confident in our people. Together we personify Russia, the people, the spirit, we have always pulled through. Whatever the cost." Listening to him Anya's eyes brimmed with tears, "Oh Ivan-" she found herself smiling despite herself as she embraced her brother. Ivan was always full of confidence and bravado, no matter what the situation, even when all seemed lost and the world around him crumbled her brother refused to ever give up. "The last time you said that..." she said looking up into his violet eyes, her fingers running over his chiseled features, "...you almost didn't pull through." She sighed and buried her face in Ivan's chest and broke down.

"Oh Anya, please don't or- or I might break down as well and we can't have that." he said with a light laugh as tightened his arms around the woman and the two of them stood alone in front of Stalin's office while the world around them continued to spiral out of control.

Had everyone continued to ignore the two halves of Russia personified they might have stood together for hours, allowing to emotions which had collected over the decades of war and change spill through, yet it was not to be. Instead ten minutes after Anya's break down a red faced radio operated came running down the hall, a portable field radio in his hands, "Comrade Braginsky! Comrade Braginsky you have been asked for from Minsk!"Russia's eyes widened and he gently pushed Anya aside, "Who's calling for me?" he asked rushing to the other man who now stood trying to catch his breath. "I-I am not sure. Just- here." he said handing the tall blonde a pair of headphones and radio microphone. Taking them Ivan push them on and shouted loudly into the mic, "Ivan Braginsky here. Who's is this?"

The voice which through some miracle was able to push through to Moscow choked back a sob of relief, "Glory to God! Ivan it's me Nikolai" Ivan tightened his grip on the phone in his hand, as if this would keep his brother from being cut off, "Nikolai! Thank God you're alright! Is Natalia wth you?"

"N-No! No she's not." the male Personification of the Soviet Republic of Belarus said, suddenly Ivan heard what sounded like a series of explosions in the background followed by Belarus' harsh curses, "Those Fascist fucks are bombing my capital!" he shouted, "Why aren't our guys in the sky!? What's happening out there!?" Hearing the frustrated desperation in his brother's voice tightened Ivan's chest once more." Nikolai I don't think we have any guys left right now." he said, voice cracking slightly, "Ludwig and that little shit faced Corporal hit us fast and they hit us hard. Half of the pilots were in bed for heaven's sake."

Nikolai cursed as the continuous stream of explosions continued in the background, every so often static would cut the line as well but still through some miracle the line didn't die. "But look, we're getting our plan's together Kolya, Marshal Tymoshenko's here, Commander Zhukov too. Just give us a few hours and we'll get our forces into fighting order."

"You promise Ivan? You have to fucking promise!"

Ivan froze, eyes staring at the radio, cold and desperate, "Y-Yes Nikolai, I promise. I swear we'll get you out as soon as possible. Just hold on as best you can in the meantime."

Belarus sighed, then spat, "Alright Ivan, I trust you. You always pull through with an ace in the end. Some Nevsky or Kutuzov." he laughed a harsh hallow laugh.

Russia swallowed, "L-Look Nikolai, where's Natalia? Please tell me she's safe, Anya's worried sick."

Belarus spat, "Shit, Anya heard my language?" he asked, causing Ivan to smile. It was just like his little brother to turn gentleman when a woman was near.

"No Nikolai, everything's fine."

"Ah...ok, well the truth is I don't know where Natalia is. Last I heard she was going to Brest. Part of her appreciation tour for the Red Army."

Russia's heart skipped a beat, Brest practically on the border with Poland! "Has there been any contact with the city?" he asked.

Nikolai laughed, "Are you kidding? I barely got through to Moscow! How the hell am I going to reach a border city when there isn't a damned border anymore!" he shouted loudly causing Ivan to cringe from the volume. "Look Ivan, I have to go. Really, I promise I'll ask for her but...please, please send help. I don't know how long we're going to fight when our supplies so low! It's rifles against tanks and machine guns damn it!" he paused breathing hard then in a much softer voice, "I love you. You're the best big brother I've got."

"I-I love you too Nikolai." Russia replied as the line went silent.

A/N: Well there you go, chapter one. I hope this was interesting to read.