This chapter is basically just setting everything up for what's to come. It gets the 'boring' stuff like explanations out of the way and sets the stage for what's to come.

Keep in mind this fanfiction has no real protagonist or antagonist, though it may seem like that at first.

Oh and I don't own Hetalia and the characters, blah blah blah.

Enjoy!

The Russian winter was built in a way that left the world a barren, yet beautiful wasteland. Everything around him was blanketed in snow; deep, white, and untouched. It was gorgeous and serene, yet he couldn't help but feel somewhat empty at the sight before him. Unlike his home, Russia's was devoid of any kind of color in his winter – and for once, it gave America just a little insight on why Russia acted the way he did. Perhaps the geography and weather of their country shaped them as well.

Tires of the military jeep crunched easily down a worn pathway, following already thick tire tracks towards what looked to be, in all its glory, an ancient Russian palace. The architecture was grand and beautiful, far older than anything he had back home. America had to remind himself that in comparison, Russia was ancient. He was still such a young country and did not have the elegant age that Europe had.

He also didn't have burnt out tanks and ruins from wars sitting in his fields either.

The young nation couldn't help but sigh, raising a hand to run it through his dirty blond hair and ruffle it away from his face. Blue eyes were dulled, bags of exhaustion hanging below them and the familiar mirthful glitter gone with his restless sleeps. America's normally vibrant appearance had been dulled by what seemed to be his growing age and stress. He was so strong, yet so young.

England said he was so inexperienced.

Yet who had saved his ass during two World Wars?

Perhaps that was the whole reason for the conference between Russia and America. For awhile now, the economy had slipped further and further into turmoil, and with it relations between nations crumpled. The EU was fucked to hell and back, with Greece and Romania digging themselves out of holes while France, Germany, and England basked in wealth. The smaller EU countries were growing angry towards the three largest economies, and suddenly alliances that divided the world were being formed.

Even relationships between America and his brother were strained. They would always be allies of course, but Canada took a different view on interfering in Europe and Asia again. He preferred to leave it alone, whereas America knew if they didn't do something, another intercontinental war would be started and all hell would break loose.

For once, he was trying to be the voice of reason. America had tentatively brought the subject up at the last World Conference, and was immediately met with a harsh back lash of how fucking USELESS he was.

He didn't understand.

Why wasn't anyone ever grateful to him?

Giving a soft sigh, he immediately slipped from the vehicle the second the door was opened. His feet met the soft crunch of padded down snow with a whoosh, and America couldn't help but be fascinated by how thick and fluffy it was. It was nothing like what they got back home, save for in Alaska.

Jolted from his mild reverence by the murmur of a thick Russian accent, America glanced up towards his driver, and nodded. The tall nation trailed after him, eyes drinking in the beauty that was Russia's home. He couldn't help but be mildly impressed.

Not that he would ever say it.

Russia and America weren't on fantastic terms still, so it puzzled him a bit why the other had dragged him all the way to… well… Russia.

The second the door to the home was opened, America was met by a blast of warm air – and he couldn't help but sigh. Pushing past the driver, America quickly striped away his own coat, scarf, and hat, as well as stomped his feet clear of any snow.

Russia's home was massive, of course that was to be expected. There were two grand staircases leading upstairs in the entrance alone, decorated in gold's and red's and accented by a massive crystal chandelier hanging above their heads. America couldn't help but give a low whistle. Was this some old palace or was it for Russia alone?

Maybe he should have brushed up on his history. Whatever.

"Master Russia is this way." Another thickly accented voice, and America looked down to see a pretty girl in red and black, a maid's uniform he assumed. He shot her a smile, but she didn't return it. Instead she turned on her heel, marching brusquely towards the furthermost staircase and practically taking the stairs two at a time.

As America followed her, he drank in more and more and more of the architecture. The hallways were accented with national artifacts. There were paintings, busts of Tsars and Tsaristas, family jewels, weaponry.

He was a little jealous.

Clearing his throat, America was suddenly met with double blackened doors, accented by handles shaped like a roaring lion. Glancing around, he realized the young maid was gone … and he couldn't help but feel just a bit creeped out. Was everyone in this country a ninja or ghost? America couldn't count the number of times Russia had snuck up on him and he hadn't even noticed until he felt that silky murmur of his name in his ear.

America shuddered. Yes. None of that.

Being the man he was, America didn't bother to knock. Rather, he reached out, turned the knob, and became pleased when it slid open without much effort.

Slowly, America stepped into the grand room… and well, it was no less surprising than the rest of his home.

This room was decorated in pale shades of blue and navy, with accents of silver and gold. Tapestries of various shades hung from the wall, and there was a long table with comfortable chairs, a desk, two other doors, a love seat for lounging, and a massive book case. Seemed to America that this was Russia's drawing room. Or office. Or whatever they called this shit in Europe.

America knew he shouldn't have… he knew he shouldn't have moved… but he couldn't resist it. Slowly, he took a step forward, and then another… and another… until he was standing in front of the massive bookcase. Most of the titles seemed to be in Russian, French, or German, but that didn't stop Alfred from skimming his gloved hands over the bindings.

Suddenly, his fingers paused over the thinnest copy on the shelf, bound in red and almost entirely concealed by the other thick volumes. Without even thinking, America reached out, grasped the book, and pulled.

He immediately regretted the action.

Instantly, a large hand was grasping his wrist, and another settling comfortably over his throat – not squeezing, but enough to jolt him in surprise. A chest pressed to his back, and America's nostrils were immediately filled with the scent of winter and sunflowers, maybe a bit of vodka.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop two degrees.

"Now, America," there it was, that purr in his ear. "Isn't it considered rude in every culture to go snooping around in someone's home without their permission?" Russia's voice came out soft and silky, a childish comfort, but America knew the devious and evil mind that was layered beneath that kiddy voice.

"Maybe. Just like it's considered rude to keep your guest waiting." He growled out, instantly yanking his hand away and slithering away from Russia's grasp when he realized the other wasn't going to fight him.

America instantly backed a few feet away from the other, enough anyway so that he could take almost all of Russia's full frame into his eyes. He was just as massive as usual – violet eyes just as cold and hair just as silvery. He seemed to have aged slightly, but perhaps they all had. At least that insufferable smirk was still on his face. It was a bit of comfort.

"What do you want from me, Russia? It better be something important. London-Heathrow is a fucking zoo this time of year." The younger nation crossed his arms over his chest, back erect and his words coming out a near hiss. This is how he always treated Russia, and how he always would.

Russia seemed unphased.

"Why are you in such a rush, Amerika? Come, have a seat and drink." Russia gave him a smile, gesturing towards the table. His eyes glimmered lightly, something dangerous lurking beneath them (nukes, America's held the same glimmer), but perhaps they were almost a little… well… hopeful.

He couldn't help but be a little shocked.

Eyeing the other once more, America turned away from him, stomping over to the table, and plopping himself dramatically at the head chair. Instantly, he slouched (he could hear England screaming already), and gave a heavy grumble. Long ass flight, cold ass winter, creepy ass Russia and his creepy ass house. No wonder they were such polar opposites.

There was a piece of china sat in front of him, a tea cup it seemed, steaming with something warm and bitter smelling. America didn't look up as he heard the chair next to his sliding backwards, filled with the frame of the Russian avatar and followed by a 'friendly' hum.

"Go ahead and drink, America. You like your coffee black, da? I'm sure you're cold and thirsty." Russia bat his eyelashes at him, and America curled his nose lightly in disgust.

"Cut the crap, Russia." Another growl. America was all business… no coffee. Even if it smelled really good. He wouldn't put it past the other nation to poison him. "What do you want from me?"

It seemed like forever the way Russia regarded him. The smile had slipped from his face, and instead his violet eyes had grown serious. Hands folded beneath his chin, and the way he looked at America unnerved him slightly, but he never looked away. He made sure his baby blue eyes stayed locked on the Russian's own the whole time.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, Russia spoke. "As you know, Amerika, the state of the European economy and our relationships have been very strained lately."

America snorted. "I didn't come here to have you tell me bullshit I already know."

Russia narrowed his eyes. "Be quiet and let me finish. Anyways, I am not part of the Union, but I have heard from the smaller nations near me that perhaps your friends Britain, France, and Germany have become a little greedy lately…..They have been giving breaks to nations and letting others flounder. Romania, for example, is barely existing as it is. And did you know Greece and Turkey recently married? Remarkable right? Last time I saw them, they were trying to stab each other."

America's eyebrow twitched. "So what?"

The Russki sighed again, and pushed his cup aside to lean forward, hands propping under his chin once more. "Amerika, the world is in turmoil again. Europe's super powers are allying once again to swallow the world whole once more. The Middle East is in fits." He didn't mention that was partially America's fault, "Even you and your precious Canada have strained relations. He prefers to remain neutral while you want to help."

Russia paused, eyes suddenly alight.

"But, dear Amerika, what if Canada knows something that YOU don't?"

"Ha!" America instantly snorted, head jolting back as he shook it. "Bull. Canada is my twin brother. He'd never keep shit from me if it was going to harm me." He whole-heartedly believed every word he was saying. They argued sometimes sure, but for the most part they were best friends. They relied on each other for everything.

Canada would never betray him.

Would he?

"Ah, young little Alfred. You're so innocent…"

"-Don't call me that!"

"Canada has always been eclipsed by you and your power. Perhaps, somewhere deep in his sweet little soul, he wants to eclipse you. Stomp on you a little. Every nation has their secret desires and power trips. Don't you think it's possible?" He smiled, that childish look on his face but the gleam back in his eye.

Suddenly, America was a little worried.

"It doesn't matter. Canada's army couldn't take mine on anyway. " This was true. America had a fantastic military and the world knew it. Canada hardly had one at all. He wouldn't stand a chance.

The room was silent, and suddenly Russia's grin grew wider and wider and wider. "When did you become so naïve? Of course he couldn't…. but…." He smirked around the brim of his own tea cup. "He could with the help of your darling England and France."

"…." He blanched, paled almost instantly. The thought hadn't crossed his mind. He didn't understand why Canada had been so distant lately, France so cold, and England refusing to look at him at all. Three of his closest friends had thrown him to the wayside for what he presumed their own personal matters – and it seemed that America was their own personal matter.

"That's not possible!" He said loudly, jerking backwards slightly. "They're my friends- why would they? I don't have anything they want… I….."

"America," the silky voice. Enrtrancing. "Just think how powerful they would become if they divided you up. Think of it. The British Empire. The French Empire…. They would all be back. Those were the good ole days for them, hm? Perhaps you are getting too powerful for Europe's liking…."

His blue eyes were wide, and his large hands were curling against the edge of the table, knuckles white, and nails digging into the beautiful wood. "Impossible. Did you just bring me here to fucking trash talk my friends? That's just like you, Russia. You're such a-"

"Hush." Came the curt command, the Russki standing instantly to tower over him. "I did not bring you here to mock you. I brought you here to give you a reality check and a proposal."

That thought hadn't crossed his mind. A proposal? America frowned, his lips pursing into a thin line and arms crossing over his chest. He didn't like having to look up at Russia, but remained silent for the time being. "I'm waiting." He grumbled.

And there it was, that smile again. Except Russia didn't leave his personal bubble. Oh no, he leaned even closer, gripping Alfred's chair by the arms and smirking down at him as he did so. America could smell the vodka on his breath and something else, something sweet. It invaded his nostrils and suddenly he was so damn COLD and just wanted something warm.

"I propose an alliance. A temporary marriage of sorts, between Russia and America." The worlds melted off Russia's tongue in a silky purr. Like it was the most logical thing in the world to have two nations that had hated each other for quite some time suddenly become best friends forever.

And for once in America's life, he was silent.

A million thoughts ran through his mind at once. Him and Russia? Two of the world's scariest super powers? He couldn't help but blink. They had completely different ideals. Completely different goals in life. They were polar opposites yet so very strong and yet so full of faults.

Yet America knew, if Russia and him became united….. the world would not stand a chance against them.

But what if Russia was wrong? What if France, England, and Canada weren't planning this shit and the EU stuff was typical bantering? Why would he have gone through all the trouble of bringing him out here, planting lies into his head, and proposing some silly alliance when he could have just asked if he wanted one bad enough? Not that he would have agreed without legitimate reasons, but all the same….

That frown was on his face, eyebrows pulled down and his lips going South as well. It was his thinking face, and it was evident to Russia that America was thinking very hard.

He'd never been too greedy. He didn't want to expand that much, so that wasn't his goal. America was happy on his continent nestled between Mexico and Canada… unless those two got rowdy, then he'd probably need a bit of Russia's help.

"What's in it for you?" He asked suddenly.

That smirk was back on Russia's face, and his eyes were twinkling once more. "Why, Amerika, what's in it for me? A better economy, food for my people, a colony for you and a colony for me. Another homeland, a bigger army, perhaps territory to conquer together…World domination."

He blinked. "Look dude, I'm not lookin' to take over the world, but I appreciate your conc-" Russia was back in his face again… and oh god that voice.

"But Alfred," America's eyebrow twitched, "We could be invincible. England would never mock you again. You would never be called useless or a failure again."

The idea was suddenly much more appealing. Ever since the Revolutionary War England and his relationship had been… in… well… turmoil. But now this? This was just wrong. They were supposed to be close regardless of whatever America messed up.

The EU wasn't his problem, so why did they want to resolve all of it by taking HIS country?

Nu uh, no way, no how.

But he knew he couldn't take on Europe on his own.

So America stared, and he stared hard. He drank in Russia's appearance, his glittering eyes and his proximity. An alliance, a type of 'marriage' was what the avatars called it.

They would probably never agree on anything.

"I accept."

Russia's grin grew impossibly wide. "Superb, Alfred. Alena will take you to your room!"

And in a flash, the Russki was gone, coat and scarf whirling behind him as Alfred was practically abducted by the pretty maid from before, who was now all smiles and brute strength as she practically dragged the surprised American throw the doors and down the hall to what would end up being a huge and lavish bedroom.

When the door shut behind Alfred (after another maid and butler had slipped in to arrange his things and a meal… and get him to quiet), Ivan stood in front of it with a wide smirk on his face, listening to the indignant shouts of his new ally – or wife of sorts. His Queen.

"Welcome to the United Russian Federation."

How scary would it be for the rest of the world if Russia and America truly became one?

I promise the next chapter will contain more interesting subject matter! Just needed to set the stage.

Review please! I should update in about a week or so!