Updated: (6/2/18) made minor changes, added more content, historical notes, fun facts, and split into chapters [Please re-read this if you read the first time. It is very different]

A/N: This fic was meant to bring attention to the fact that Alaska was Russia's colony, so in theory Alaska would have a representative and he's not just a RusAme love child (although I love those fics). It's just my headcanon that Alaska is a boy.

I just really wanted someone to make a fic exploring Russia's and Alaska's early relationship. I'm kind of tired of the stories with teenage Alaska angry at Russia for abusing him. I don't think Russia would do that seeing how he was abused as a child.

Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me.

West of Prince of Wales Island. July 15, 1741.

It wasn't the bluest of days; many hazy gray clouds floated close by, but it wasn't a bad day either. The sun was shining down on the sparkling blue water, and thanks to the clouds it wasn't too hot.

Russia sighed in satisfaction as the coast became visible. The expedition in 1648 had gone horribly wrong; no one had returned and Russia was left wondering if there was more land to the east of his home. It didn't bother him much to know for sure until other nations began talking about their colonies. 1725 wasn't any better; Peter the Great had become curious and sent another expedition, but no sightings of North America were seen at all, nothing but the vast ocean. This time Russia came along to guide his men; with his presence they were sure to be led in the right direction. Russia smiled to himself, maybe if he hurried he would even claim more land... that is, if England, France, or Spain hadn't beaten him already. He scoffed at the thought.

No. The very thought was ridiculous. They would not beat him; the New World had many resources to offer and the other three had already started colonies. Russia was going to get his share even if he had to take it by force. He should really thank England and France, if not for the two of them parading the colonies in Europe( rather France couldn't keep quiet about his little Canada), then Russia would have never kept pursuing that land to the east. Although, the two nations had been inhospitable to him when Russia came bearing gifts for the colonies; England seemed to have no control over his as the tiny colony had snuck into the library to see Russia (the gifts Russia brought). One look at the golden haired child was enough to make Russia want a colony of his own.

So far the ride on the Sv. Pavel had been smooth and things looked promising as he marveled at the greenery ahead. Violet eyes widened at the sight of a whale coming half way out of the water before splashing back down below; and further ahead there was a large rock with many sea otters laid out on it. Magnificent. He wondered what else the New World had to offer.

Russia was the first to set foot on land. The fresh air, the land, the trees, wildlife; all of it excited him, but he would never express it in front of his men. Instead he opted to leave. "Chirikov," Russia looked back at the captain, "continue to chart anything you find, I'm going to explore." The captain nodded as Russia left the crew behind.

Ivan was well into his exploration of sighting sea otters when a furry creature came bounding out of the trees and stopped right at his feet. It was a rather large white and black puppy; it was much too large to be one of his huskies, it was probably a malamute.

The puppy eyed Russia with it's icy blue eyes and yipped for his attention. "What is it," Russia wonders if the dog would even understand him, but the puppy starts trotting off in the direction it had come from. Ivan decides to follow the dog and soon he hears the sound of crying; he stopped in his tracks; he hadn't found any indigenous people yet so this was unexpected.

Searching further he came upon a small child whose back was turned to him; they couldn't have been older than three years. Their head was hidden with a brownish white hooded parka, light brown pants covered their legs and furred kamiks covered tiny feet. The pup brushed against the child; their sizes were comparable. Ivan couldn't imagine that a human would be as careless enough to lose such a young child.

Russia hesitated, he wasn't very good with handling children. Slowly, he walked over to the child and bent down on his knees and placed his large hand on the tiny shoulder. "Don't cry little one."

The startled child whipped around and Ivan gasped as his eyes beheld the features of the little boy; gray locks of hair, the color of a bird's down, framed big aquamarine blue eyes that were watery from crying. A stray hair that wouldn't lay with the rest sticks out to the side, and Russia knows right away that the child was not human; they just did not have hair that did that.

It is not those things that catches Russia's eye, but the child's face. His skin is creamy with round cherub cheeks and a small prominent nose protruding from his face. Childish lips were pouty and just a tad pink. This child looked almost exactly like him.

A colony? Was this his colony? Sure he'd known about the land, but to find an actual representative...

Russia offered a small smile and wiped at the tears that were still running down the boy's face. "I am Imperial Russia, who are you," Ivan asked in one of the tongues that the tribal people of Kamchatka use.

The boy sniffled and tries to inch away, terrified. Ivan doesn't move any closer, but he tries several other languages until the boy suddenly looks at him with surprise; a small smile slowly crosses Ivan's face. The boy is Unangan then, or what Russia likes to call them, Aleut. This does not surprise him since he found the child so close to the sea. "Is Alyeska(Prehistoric Alaska) your mother?" Russia knows that woman by many names, as he had driven her from Kamchatka Krai, but Alyeska seemed the most fitting at the moment.

The boy nodded and with a shaky breath said, "M-my nyame is Agwuta and that's Mishka," he points to the large puppy. Aguta? Miska? "So precious," Russia whispers as he smiles at the child's baby voice; it's adorable and makes him want to pinch the boy's cheeks.

Russia never felt this happy in all his life; this is exactly what he'd been waiting for. A little colony to call his own, a piece of the New World, his little Russian America. "I'm your papa, Aguta, and you're going to come back home with me so I can protect you and make you big and strong."

Aguta gave him a confused look before smiling and throwing himself in Russia's arms.

Ivan wasted no time in bringing the colony back with him to the boat; he could only wonder what he'd discover in time, but at the moment he was enjoying the view of the sun against the horizon while he held Aguta in his arms. Ivan is honestly surprised at how well the child has taken to him. Usually, the first thing any living being did at the sight of Russia was run in the opposite direction or try to beat him up; this is why he decides to bring the colony back with him instead of leaving the child behind.

"Wuk papa," the boy beamed at him as he pointed at the ever present orange ball of gas illuminating the blue water, "dat's da mid night sun! It nyever sets!" Russia smiled adoringly at his child as the boat carried them further and further away from the colony's home. It was the first smile that didn't feel forced, it was the first time someone had accepted him without question, his Russian America, his sunshine. Russia was going to make sure the child didn't grow up like he had to; he would never let anyone take his son away from him, ever.

Moscow, Russia. 1742.

Aleksandr, formerly Aguta, hid under the bed as Miska nosed his cheek with her wet muzzle. Russian America did not like anything about his new house. He didn't like the new food, the new clothes(or the amount of times clothes were changed in one day), or the way the people acted so... proper. Aleksandr missed the sea where he fished for his own food, the whales, he missed the fur clothing his mother made for him, the whale dancing, and the use of his old language. The royals did not even speak the new language that Russia spoke to him. At least he still has Miska.

No one was any fun around here, they didn't even eat properly. Aleks had asked for whale meat because who didn't have that. The royals had given him a face that he could only compare to Belarus' scary porcelain dolls; they gave him a bowl of black tiny balls instead. It was his turn to give them the stink eye… who in their right mind would be satisfied by fish eggs.

Belarus and Ukraine are looking for him, but Aleksandr doesn't want to be bothered; he's tired and he wants everyone to stay quiet for a while. Russian America buries his face in Miska's thick coat of fur along her belly. Miska curls on her side and wraps her body around the young boy like she would do if he were sleeping in the snow; cocooned in warmth, tired eyes droop and Aleks falls asleep within seconds.

When Aleks stirs, it's because someone is messing with his peninsula. He scrunches his face up in annoyance and swats at the hand pulling on his curl. When aquamarine eyes open they are met with piercing violet and Aleks squealed in horror once he realizes he's in Russia's arms.

"Alik... you shouldn't skip your studies,little one," Russia is smiling at him, the smile that means he's in trouble.

"I wasn't skyipping. I needed nap after eating." Miska who is sitting on floor, chooses this moment to yawn, in her doggish fashion, as if agreeing with him.

"Um hmm. Yes, that is why you were under the bed." Russia tugs on the stray lock of hair once more and then sighs, "Have the royals done something to upset you again."

Aleks contemplates whether he should actually say anything to Russia; Ukraine had told him that Russia didn't like people that complained. Aleks decides to tell him anyway. Russia is his papa after all. "Dey say I speak wike a peasahnt boy."

Those violet eyes immediately furrow in annoyance and Aleksandr wonders if he's made a mistake. "It is because you speak to them in Russian instead of French," that unpleasant smile that had been present darkens and Aleksandr begins to shake. "You are just a boy. If it happens again, give me their names." Russian America knows this is why he was brought to Moscow first; the royals in St. Petersburg would be much worse.

"You are my colony and as Imperial Russia, I will have you speaking Russian before or if I choose to teach you French." The dark aura dissipates as if nothing has happened and the smile turns into a genuine one. Russia presses Aleks closer to his side and pecks him on the forehead. "Now let's get you cleaned up so you can learn lesson. I brought a chief from one of the Siberian tribes to teach you alphabet today. He came long way, so be nice to him."

While Aleks could understand Russian to some extent due to the amount of time he spent with Russia to get to Moscow, he had no idea what the alphabet looked like or how to speak it properly. Aleks does not understand the Slavic accent sometimes, but he has picked the language up easy enough.

Ukraine gives Aleks a bath and provides new clothes. When he is brought to his room, Belarus and Russia are waiting with a man that looks like the people of his mainland. His black hair, and brown eyes and skin make him stand out among the adults.

"Oh, so small… he understands language?" Aleks is surprised to hear the man speak fluent Russian.

"Yes," Russia replies smoothly; his posture is relaxed and he seems completely at ease. This can only be because there's no royals to judge him on his demeanor; Aleks also relaxes.

"You must be a land god, too. Please call me Chief Denali. Tell me your given name."

Aleks looks to Russia for permission to say the name that was taken from him and smiles when he is given consent. "Hewwo Chief Denawi! Mommy called me Agwuta, now I'm Aweksandar." Aleks says his new name to make his papa smile. It's hard for him to pronounce, but he likes it just as much as the name his mother gave him. Aleks is awarded with Russia sending him warm smiles and adoring eyes and…

Ukraine has plucked him off the floor, like he is a ripe blueberry waiting to be picked, and she squeezed him uncomfortably close to her chest. She rubs her face into his soft grayish hair, and her long blonde curls fall into his face. "Sasha! So cute and soft," she coos over him.

Chief Denali is smiling and Belarus hides her amusement behind one of her hands. Russia apologizes with his eyes. When Ukraine puts Aleks back on his feet, Chief Denali extends a hand and says, "You will persevere little land under the ice." Aleks is relieved to hear the man speak his mother language and extends his own hand; it is immediately engulfed in a firm handshake.

"I must be leaving now," Russia sighs, "but if you do good Aleksandr… I will bring you back some whale meat, okay?" Aleksandr is starry eyed and drooling as he nods and waves his father away.

Summer Palace, St. Petersburg, Russia 1748.

Russia is only slightly annoyed. Aleksandr (and the dog) has become a master at hiding; it took Ivan over four hours to find the colony in his own home. Well… he has many homes, but Ivan knows them all like the back of his hand.

It is not only the matter of finding Aleks that annoys him, it is the pestering of a girl, Sophie, that has attached herself to Russia as soon as he'd made his appearance in the palace. She is one of Prussia's, or was, until she married Peter III, who is next in line for the throne; the girl now calls herself Catherine and she is adamant that Russia is not human. How she knows that just by looking at him, he'll never know.

Catherine is clever, only select royals know about Russia's eternal condition. Now, that didn't mean people did not know about him; many people knew who he was and worshipped him as a land god. They were peasants and the church did not appreciate, nor acknowledge their pagan celebrations of his existence. Catherine's eyes stare after him longingly, and Russia is not sure if she is in pursuit of the crown or Russia himself. But from one look, Russia is aware that her scandalous behavior is part of a higher scheme. She only relents when Ivan finds Aleks… walking along the rooftops with Miska.

Now, Russia hid his frown behind his scarf; Russian America had his arms crossed defiantly as he pouted at Ivan. Grayish locks, that would surely turn black someday, glistened from the incoming sun with that stray hair, representing the peninsula, always flaring away from the rest; aquamarine eyes looked off to the side. Russia had been gone long due to the Hats' War with Sweden and the War of Austrian Succession keeping him away. Every chance he got Russia tried to spend with Aleks, but he hadn't expected these sudden tantrums.

Russia had been very successful with his teachings of the Russian Orthodoxy; Empress Elizabeth was very religious and insisted that Aleks learn… She also insisted that he learned French, but one withering look from Russia on the subject was enough to make her forget about it.

Now the little colony looked irritable. Maybe it was the teachings, maybe it was the constant changing of royal attire throughout the day; Russia did not know, but Elizabeth was not happy with the colony's constant cries around the royal courts.

"Please don't be angry with papa, Aleksandr," Russia tried, the long white scarf muffled his words.

Ivan was suddenly taken aback as Aleks openly glared at him. "You want me to be happy while you kill my people! You trick my people with this false religion and then you enslave and kill them over sea otters. My sea otters!" Ivan's mouth hung slightly open. Gone, was the babyish way of talking and friendly tone.

Russia was afraid, not of his colony, but of losing him and it frightened him that his colony did not consider the Russian settlers his people, only the Aleutians and other native tribes.

…Does this mean that Alyeska has died? Aleksandr had been doing well until recently. A small frown formed as Russia thought this over. Alyeska was not a weak woman; had she given up? Russia hasn't seen her since she left Kamchatka, but… had Aleksandrs appearance weakened her?

...Does Aleks know his mother is dead? Does he know that he is now all of Alaska?

Russia would do anything to keep his little colony happy, and he wanted Alaska to smile those heartwarming smiles of his, not these vengeful glares he was receiving. Did this mean Alaska did not accept him? His heart beat rapidly from hurt, it had always been too soft and weak.

Russia pulled his scarf down, tried his best to smile, and tried the name that used to belong to the colony's mother. "But Alaska, the settlers are your people," he insisted and Alaska does not deny the name. Ivan's eyebrows furrowed, "And I have been too busy at war to visit your homeland. Don't you know I would never strike you, my little Russian America. Here," Ivan holds out his hand, "hit me, if you think I deserve it."

Faster than lightning, a tiny hand springs out and smacks Russia's hand, leaving behind slightly red stinging skin. But soon hot tears replaced Alaska's glare and Ivan immediately picked up his temperamental child. "But it hurts so much! I can feel them dying!"

Russia's heart stung at that; Alaska was too young to be experiencing these conflicts, but it was something that he'd get used to as he aged. Every nation had to live with these growing pains; they would eventually lessen. Russia placed a large hand over Alaska's soft grayish hair and ran his fingers through it gently while his other hand rubbed Alaska's back.

Alaska hid his face away in Ivan's shoulder, "I'm sorry, papa," he hiccupped.

Ivan smiles softly, "I know what would make you feel better." Aqua eyes look up inquisitively. "Whale hunting." And Alaska lets out a squeal that reminds him once more of the colony's baby nature.

…

Alaska's definition of whale hunting was just a tad bit different from Russia's. See what Russia meant was he'd let the colony shoot the harpoon, seated safely behind the gun while Russia watched over him; this is not at all how it happened.

Out at sea, on a large whaling vessel, the colony stood at the rail of the hull meticulously looking for the large sea mammal. It's the first time Alaska's been out of St. Petersburg, and the palace in general, since he's arrived, so Russia is just slightly worried for the colony's safety; Europe was still very much interested in the Americas.

Sea spray filled the air with the scent of salt, and the water reflected back a deep ocean blue. White foam appeared where waves crashed and waves began rolling at a distance away. The moment Alaska points at it, a large gray form breaches the surface. The high pitched sounds of orcas echo back to them.

"Alright, come sit behind the swivel gun Alik," Russia points at the chair behind the weird looking gun and Alaska looks at it with confusion.

"What's that for papa?"

"To shoot the whale," Russia said, confused himself, "How do you hunt them?"

"Let me show you," Alaska is happy to demonstrate and the crew is curious at how the tiny child is going to hit a whale without using the swivel gun. After making sure a rope is tied securely to the rail, the colony picks up the harpoon with one hand and hops into the chair to help him see over the rail. Some of the crew are laughing with exclamations of 'let the little guy have his fun' and 'look at that shrimp'. Alaska ignores them, takes aim, and with one thrust of his arm, water shoots up in the air less than two seconds later and the color red begins tainting the blue water. "Yes," Alaska shouts and claps his hands, jumping from the place on his chair and begins dancing.

The crew falls silent and Russia is appalled. Such precision, such accuracy; how could a colony have that kind of strength? A sudden frenzy breaks out, with the crew chanting, "Zemlyanoy bog!"

The Americas were proving to be different, very different than Europe.

Alik and Sasha are diminutive forms of Aleksandr.

A/N: I split Alaska up for a reason. Alaska has always been traditional and stuck in it's ways. Even after it accepted Russian ideals, the tribal influence would always be dominant. That's still true for present day Alaska.

Headcanons:

America's states have representatives and he likes to call them his children when they actually aren't. Reasons: Some of them used to be nations/ some of them were colonies from other nations. Every state has its own laws and government. They're basically micronations.

Provinces [in federations] have reps because of some of the reasons above. Canada treats his provinces like close friends. Russia treats his like business partners.

Translations:

Alyeska (Aleutian)/ Alyaska (Russian) – Alaska. mainland/ the object toward which the action of the sea is directed/ that which breaks against the shore

Aguta (Aleutian) – good spirit (that lived under the ice)

Mis(h)ka (Aleutian/Russian) – little bear/ teddy bear

Denali (Aleutian) - mountain (it's also the highest mountain peak in North America)

Zemlyanoy bog (Russian) - Land/ Earth god

Fun Facts:

Kamchatka is mostly wilderness and a region of Russia that still has tribal people. (I want to tour there, it's so beautiful! *v*)

The Russians were the first people to call the natives, Aleut. The origin is uncertain, but it could have come from Siberian tribal language Chukchi, which is aliuit, but it could also have been corruption of the Aleut word for "community," allíthuh. They are actually called Unangan(singular) or Unangax(plural). It means "coastal people". Most of them now call themselves Aleut.

Catherine the Great was Sophie before she married Peter III, and she was Prussian.

Whaling was not a huge issue until the 1970s… when they were nearly extinct.

Historical Notes:

In 1741, Aleksei Chirikov, commanding the Sv. Pavel on Vitus Bering's second voyage of exploration, made the first recorded European landfall on the northwest coast of North America at Baker Island on the west coast of Prince of Wales Island. The Russians had found Alaska before, but it was not documented.

The only claim that Russia made of Alaska was discovering it. Russians were mainly there for the fur trade and did not settle far from the coast, but they did know that more land was to the east, so claimed the whole territory. Population at the most was a thousand. Russians continued to move further south to the Oregon territory and California for the fur trade. (Basically most of the west coast used to be Russian America until 1821.)

In 1748, Russians started converting the natives to Russian Orthodoxy. There was fighting over who would get the sea otters, and the killing of sea otters in general.