Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. History is exaggerated/not true/ don't use me as a reference for your history paper.

Hey guys, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Oh Kumajiro, he's the source of all of Matthew's stress. Read on!

-Washington DC-

"…Who?" Kumajiro cutely asked the dumbfounded American.

Alfred stared at the polar bear in his suitcase, and then closed it. He took a deep, calming breath. He was probably just hallucinating, there was no way that security would've let a polar bear into his bag. With this in mind, he threw open his suitcase and groaned when Kumajiro was still there.

"God damn it, how did you get in here you little eating machine?" Alfred scratched the top of his head as the bear crawled out of the black suitcase.

"I smelled something good. I came in and ate it, and then I went to sleep." Kumajiro offered an explanation. Alfred went through his suitcase and held up his bag of empty beef jerky.

"Wow, okay. Well little guy, we're in my capital right now. I'm probably not going to be flying into Canada for another four or five hours." Alfred shut the doors of his room in the white house and opened up his laptop on his bed.

Kumajiro stared at him blankly. "Who?" He repeated.

Alfred glanced up from his computer screen as it booted up and sighed, "I'm Alfred, Mattie's-" He stopped mid-sentence, before his eyes went wide in horror.

"Crap, does Mattie know you're here?" The American reached for his cellphone and swore when it was out of battery.

"Who? That guy? No, I just crawled into your suitcase."

"Hey Phil! Get in here." Alfred called the secret service guard from outside his door. A large man in a black suit immediately opened the door with an unreadable expression on his face. Alfred quickly began to pack a backpack and grabbed Kumajiro. "I have to go to Toronto right this second. Tell the president that I'm sorry, but this is important."

The secret servicemen predictably blocked the nation's path. "You are to go over the confidential reports of Area 51 with the president today-" He was cut off when Alfred easily moved him aside with his monster strength.

"Tell him Tony will fill him in on that stuff. This is really important." Alfred jogged through the halls with his guard hot on his heels.

"Nothing can be more important than your duties as a nation!"

Alfred shot him an annoyed glance and sharply rounded a corner. "Last time I 'accidentally' stole Kumajiro, he burnt this place down. I'm taking a jet, I hope you don't get sick buddy." Alfred directed his attention to the bear in his arms, who had a clueless expression on his face.

"Where?" The bear asked.

"Home."

-Several months later-

Ivan returned from the warfront for the peace treaty signing almost a year later. The two nations warily eyed each other from the opposite sides of the table, and they exchanged silent vows of secrecy. They would never mention their participation in this war.

Tensions were high in the palace when Ivan returned. The war weary nation was in bad humor when he was greeted the grinning and oblivious children. Did they understand the horrors their father put his people too? Ivan thought when the servants came to take his belongings.

Did they not understand the gravity of their current situation? T

he four girls all talked to him at once, excitement bubbled on the tip of their tongues as they prepared to charge Ivan.

"Children, Ivan is very tired. He's been fighting-"

Murdering

"- against enemy soldiers for nearly a year. Let him rest." Nikolai pulled away his excited and confused children from the irritable nation and let him have his peace.

Ivan tossed his dirty backpack into the corner of his room and stood near the window. He looked out into overcast skies and sharply turned away.

Ivan could still smell the stench of bloody and rotten corpses. If he listened hard enough, he could still hear the gunshots and the explosive roar of the canons of the ships. And if he just closed his eyes for more than a second, he could still see the corpses after a major battle- each of them were riddled with holes.

Ivan involuntarily shuddered grabbed his metal flask from underneath his coat and took a long swig of the warming liquor inside. No matter how he tried, he could never truly get used to this new kind of war.

The government declares the war, and the people were forced to fight. Such was the pattern of war. Ivan grabbed his blood-smeared journal and shoved it into one of his desk drawers.

He didn't want to remember what was going through his mind while he hacked away at the Japanese soldiers. Ivan took another swig of his flask and sighed when it was empty.

Damn his high tolerance.

He heavily sat down in his chair and massaged his temples. Ivan sketched the Japanese warships and leaned back in his chair. Once he had a few minutes to calm down, he reflected on his previous statement.

Maybe he was too harsh on 't it the same in every war? The head commanders commanded from afar while the soldiers were to obey and carry out victory. Or that's how it was supposed to work.

A soft knock on his door pulled Ivan away from his troubled thoughts and he told whoever was outside to come in. He was surprised when he saw Nikolai awkwardly stand in the door.

"…May I come in?" He asked in Russian. Ivan gave him a short nod and moved to stand, but the Tsar urged him to sit. The door clicked shut behind the Tsar, and he surprised Ivan by grabbing a chair and offering him a bottle of very expensive vodka.

"The occasion?" Ivan asked when he accepted the bottle of clear liquid. Nikolai smiled and revealed two shot glasses from his pocket.

"Your safe return." He offered.

Ivan raised an eyebrow and poured both of them a shot. They clinked glasses and downed it. Ivan's smile widened when Nikolai cringed and coughed.

"I don't understand why you like such strong liquor. It tastes like death." Nikolai instantly regretted his word choice when he saw a dark expression cross over his nation's face and sighed.

"Ivan, what I came here to say was that I'm sorry." Nikolai sighed. He put his shot glass aside, and watched as Ivan went ahead and took another shot.

"Apologies don't bring back the dead." Ivan evenly replied. Nikolai knowingly nodded and decided to go for another shot.

"No, they don't." He acknowledged. The two absently talked about the war and what it would mean for the future of Russia. Ivan was surprised by how optimistic Nikolai was about the future, but he easily counteracted it with his more pessimistic views.

Eventually their conversation drifted to more personal matters. Once the Tsar had some more alcohol in him, he became more open with the nation.

"Ivan, I never really wanted to send you out there." Nikolai confessed. His face was slightly pink, but his gaze revealed that he was deep in thought. Ivan looked up from the half empty bottle of vodka with interest.

"I was always worried. Father died early, and I wasn't all that prepared to become a ruler." Nikolai recalled the event with a sad sigh.

"But you helped me. Not just as a nation, but as a friend. I really wanted to honor your agreement with the nations, honest to God! But the ministers started to also push for your involvement, and then my family became involved.

"I couldn't stop it, and I regretted it the day I sent you. I love you like an uncle. You know that right?" The Tsar stared Ivan down, and the nation didn't attempt to hold his gaze.

"You are drunk Nikolai, rest for a while." Ivan tried to get the Tsar to lie down on his bed, but Nikolai seemed insulted.

"Do you think that little of me?" He demanded.

"You think I would only speak highly of you if I were drunk? I'm sincerely sorry Ivan." Nikolai left his glass on Ivan's desk and straightened his shirt in the nation's mirror.

He gave Ivan a few pats on the arm and revealed a regretful smile.

"I did what I had to do as a Tsar, but it appears I failed as a friend." Nikolai curtly nodded before he left Ivan to his own thoughts.

Once Ivan was sure Nikolai wasn't coming back, he collapsed back onto his bed and covered his eyes with his arm.

Ivan had failed miserably.

For years- centuries, even, he had maintained a safe distance from his rulers. And now look at him, the Tsar even called him his uncle. What had changed? Ivan removed his arm from his eyes so he could stare at his ceiling. Now that he thought back to it, he was also quite friendly with Alexander II, Nikolai's grandfather.

Since when had Nikolai regarded him as a friend? Ivan stared up at his ceiling and closed his eyes. Perhaps the better question, was when he started to regard Nikolai as a friend.

Unfortunately for him, sleep didn't come easily. After a few miserable attempts at sleep, he realized that all he could do was take a shot of vodka and allow his thoughts to wander.

Ivan pulled out the chair to his desk and muted his worries by drawing.

One day passed, another day crawled by, and soon a week had gone by since Ivan's arrival. The air was uncomfortable in the dining room, and Alexi, the young prince, was sound asleep.

Alexandra sighed, "How long has it been since Ivan left his room? A week? You must speak to him Nikolai." She bid her husband, who massaged the bridge of his nose.

"I have, several times in fact. But he refuses to come out, or eat."

His four daughters gravely listened and Anastasia unhappily picked at her food with her fork. Ivan was probably just sad.

"What if we threw him a party? Don't parties make people feel better?" Tatiana suggested.

Nikolai shook his head and took a sip of his water, "No, I think that might make him feel worse."

Olga put down her fork, "I know. Let's go on a strike." She declared. Her words caught the attention of her family at the table.

"Strike?" Maria curiously repeated.

Olga nodded, "A strike. We won't eat unless Ivan eats!" She declared. Anastasia slowly nodded and put down her fork as well.

"Yeah!" The youngest princess agreed.

Alexandra immediately protested, she couldn't let her children starve to death. Soon all four of the girls stopped eating and excused themselves from the table to camp outside of Ivan's room.

Nikolai sighed, "Leave them Alix. Perhaps this is the best plan, but if neither Ivan nor the children give in by tomorrow night, I'll force them to eat dinner." He pacified his worried wife, who reluctantly relented.

She looked next to her and fondly pet Alexi's head, "When should we tell Ivan?" She referenced their newest son's condition.

The Tsar shrugged, "When we're all together we shall tell him. For now we'll focus on getting him out of his room first."

Ivan twirled a pencil in his gloved hands as he thoughtfully looked down at the map he had drawn on his desk and absently sketched in a few rivers.

"Ivan! Come out and eat!" Maria screamed into his door. Ivan calmly put his pencil down on his desk and stretched backwards against the back of his chair. He was now more or less used to children randomly screaming his name, but that didn't mean he found it particularly pleasant.

This had to be the eighth time this evening.

"Little ones, I do not need to eat. I'm not hungry, go and eat dinner without me." Ivan called back and glanced at his watch. He was pretty sure they were late for dinner.

"If you don't eat then we don't eat!" Olga chimed in as well. Ivan rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, they would eventually give up.

He tuned out their insistent shouts and whines, and absently doodled on a fresh sheet of paper.

Ivan thought about leaving for England to ask for advice. Arthur did have the most experience with monarchies after all, and it would be wise to ask him about his problems. Eventually the racket outside quieted down as the children were whisked away by their nurse, presumably to go eat dinner. Ivan stopped drawing and froze when he saw what he had sketched.

It was a picture of all four of the girls laughing in a field of sunflowers. They all had crowns made of flowers on their heads, and Anastasia was putting one on his head.

Ivan hesitantly observed the unfamiliar expression on his face and his eyes softened.

-March 18, 1881, St Petersburg.-

"Take this!" A young Nikolai threw a punch into Ivan's stomach.

Ivan smirked when the child winced and shook off the pain in his hand. Ivan adjusted the young child's sailor suit and ruffled his hair.

"You will have to get stronger if you wish to make me block such a flimsy punch." Ivan cheerfully taunted the pouting boy. Nikolai crossed his arms, but sat on a bench with Ivan.

He blushed and expectantly held out his hand for his stolen piece of property and Ivan made a disinterested face.

"Your father said I should make you stronger, however you continue to be weak." Ivan said without any reservation. Nikolai didn't seem phased and refused to be put off.

"My book… please." The child's determined gaze cracked into a nervous smile. Ivan raised an eyebrow, but returned the boy's book to him.

"You almost had me convinced." He said with a mixture of disappointment and approval. Nikolai beamed though and cracked open his book about ancient warfare.

"I'm working on it." He tried not to sound proud, but couldn't wipe off the smile from his face and cracked open the book.

Ivan crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. He eyed the book with a mixture of interest and slight disapproval.

"I don't know why you read such books. If you wish to understand more about ancient warfare, you should ask me. I would know more than a speculating historian." Ivan scoffed. Nikolai meekly accepted Ivan's offer and set aside his book to listen to the nation speak.

Ivan's smile never faltered when he flicked him on the forehead. "You must be stronger in your position. Don't be such a pushover." He reprimanded before shoving the boy's book back into his arms.

Nikolai turned red with embarrassment and opened up his book once again to read. Their occasionally chatter was interrupted

"Ivan! Ivan, come right this second!" A servant burst into the previously silent room. Ivan would've had to be deaf to not hear the distressed tone in the woman's voice and excused himself from Nikolai's presence.

Ivan lightly jogged next to the sprinting nurse. Once they rounded a few corners, Ivan could smell the sharp tang of blood and became alarmed when there was a rather loud commotion coming from the entrance of the palace.

Fear built up in the pit of his stomach when a familiar tingle in his heart warned him of what to expect.

"Tsar!" Ivan managed to shout out along with the dozens of servants who crowded the mangled ruler.

The man was nearly ripped to shreds and a river of blood trailed wherever he went. Ivan moved everyone aside and demanded a gurney from the stunned servants and a doctor.

He unwrapped his light pink scarf and used it to try and stop the bleeding from Alexander's legs. He looped his now bloody scarf around each leg a few times. Ivan panicked when blood poured out of his stomach and discovered with mute horror that it had been ripped open.

The servants looked upon the nation nervously, and Ivan took a few shaky breaths to compose himself. "Have the doctors do what they can for him." Ivan stepped back to let the palace doctors transport the Tsar to his study.

His usual mask of a smile appeared on his face as he closely followed the doctors into the palace. Alexander was fatally wounded- it didn't take a doctor to see that. Ivan walked a bit to the side to avoid stepping in his trail of blood.

"Tell the rest of the family to gather at once!" Ivan boomed at the servants. The men and women scattered like flies to search for the family. They set the dying and mutilated Tsar down in his study and Ivan kept out of the doctors way while he stood by his ruler's side.

He couldn't understand why the Russian people kept trying to kill Alexander. He freed the surfs, and was planning to give the people a Duma. Ivan closed his eyes when he caught a glimpse of Alexander's mangled face and clenched his hands.

No matter what they did, the people always ended up hating them.

"I…van." The Tsar's raspy and pained voice immediately captured the nation's attention.

"Do not speak. You are terribly wounded Tsar-"

"Sa…sha." Alexander urged.

Come now, even when I'm on death's door- you cling to formalities in front of the doctors?

Ivan bit his tongue as if he had offended God himself and knelt down beside him. He ignored the blood seeping into his pants and lightly grasped the Tsar's bloody hand.

"S…ad?" The man gasped. Ivan's grip tightened a little and he bit his lip.

You weren't this sentimental when father died.

"You must save your breath for your family." Ivan's voice was uncharacteristically gentle and moved to release the dying man's hand when he heard his family's footsteps in the hallway.

With what little strength he had, the Tsar weakly squeezed the nation's hand and gave him a mangled- but beautiful smile. "T-Tiny…Sasha. You… smile." He rasped.

Take care of my son and his grandson. Don't cry Ivan, smile. Take care of yourself.

Ivan blinked and for the first time, noticed fresh tears trail down his face. Ivan confusedly wiped them away with his clean sleeve, why was he crying?

"Father!" Alexander III called. Ivan gently let go of the Tsar's hand and melted into the background.

Ivan watched when a pale Nikolai walked into the study and shakily stood next to his dying grandfather, who was then too weak to speak. The Tsar passed away from blood lost several minutes later, and a mournful silence came over the room.

"My father was too lenient on them. They must pay for what they've done." The new Tsar growled. Ivan had no doubt on who 'they' were, and carefully extracted his blood soaked scarf from the corpse.

A ruler's life was fleeting and unpredictable. Ivan thought he learned his lesson the day they buried Alexander II's body. Never again would he grow so attached to his sovereign.

Ivan flinched when the unpleasant memory resurfaced. He abruptly jerked his pencil across his drawing. A dark streak of pencil wounded the field of sunflowers. He crumpled the piece of paper and chucked it into the trashcan.

His hands began to tremble and he took in a shuddering breath. Dynasties could disappear any day, he reminded himself. But for some reason when Ivan reminded himself of this, a deep pang struck his heart. Ivan took in a deep breath and ran his hand through his platinum hair.

He thought he learned his lesson then.

"Ivan! Eat! Eat or I swear that I'm never going to eat ever again!" Anastasia's Russian screamed at door.

Ivan jumped and set his jaw, he had forgotten how loud Anastasia could be. "Silence! I do not need to eat to live. You, However, do. Don't be stubborn and have dinner." Ivan growled. These children could be overly persistent at times.

"I-I'm going to hold my breath until you open the door!" Tatiana challenged. Ivan rolled his eyes and continued to doodle at his desk.

"You go Tatiana!" Olga proudly encouraged her younger sister.

The four went silent, and Ivan raised an eyebrow. She couldn't possibly be serious. A minute passed by, and he could hear the girls nervously shuffle.

"Tatya? You don't have to actually hold your breath." Ivan heard Maria's worried voice.

"Stop, stop, we can think of something else. You're turning purple!" Anastasia shrieked. Ivan abruptly stood from his desk, and swung open his door to see what was going on.

All at once, the four children barged into his room with five plates of food with cheeky grins on their faces.

"Aw, you do care." Olga teased and placed Ivan's plate on his desk.

"You are commendable actors." The nation humorlessly complimented as the children nested down on his floor and bed.

Ivan sat down at his desk and was surprised at what he saw on his plate. There was bread, mashed potatoes, and borsch. It wasn't very fancy, but it appealed to Ivan. He suspiciously glanced at the four expectant children, and absently stirred the soup with his spoon.

"How did you get the chef to cook this?" Ivan mused, he was mildly surprised they knew that Borsch was one of his favorite foods.

"Well, he's the best French chef in Russia! Surely he could create a traditional Russian dish such as Borsch." Olga explained with an artificially snobby demeanor. Ivan snorted, so they nagged him until he agreed to make it.

"It is originally Ukrainian." Ivan corrected Olga. The girl scowled and stuck her tongue out, "It can still be Russian."

Ivan's smile broadened at the interesting statement. "For the record, I don't need to eat in order to live." He tried to clear them of any previous worry.

"But you still feel hungry?" Maria ventured. Ivan made an iffy gesture with his hand.

"Da, but it isn't so bad."

"Just eat Ivan, it won't kill you." Tatiana urged.

Ivan took a reluctant spoonful of soup, and the four girls cheered and dug into their own food as well. Ivan ripped off a piece of his bread and ate it with the mashed potatoes.

These princesses were a mystery to him, he couldn't fathom why they were so concerned with his health. It was funny though, every time he paused to sneeze, cough, or breathe, the four would immediately glare at him.

"I have to breathe in order to eat." Ivan exasperatedly told them when they glared at him for what must've been the hundredth time. The girls reluctantly began to eat once again, but their eyes remained laser focused on him until he finished his plate.

"I am done. Now leave." He ordered the idling girls.

Olga looked like she had something nasty to say in response, but Tatiana managed to persuade her to leave before she said something permanently damaging.

"We got him to eat, that's enough for now." She whispered to her fussing sisters as she dragged them out of the room. Ivan stared long and hard at his empty tray and abruptly decided to leave for England.

Ivan left without notice, but left a small note for the Tsar and his children.

To: My beloved Tsar, closely held Tsarina, and OTMA.

I have many things I must sort out. As such, I am leaving for England to consult its representation about my worries. Take care, may God's grace be with little Alexei.

-Ivan Braginsky

Ivan's neat Russian easily flowed over the piece of parchment, and he placed it under a paperweight in the Tsar's study. He telegrammed England about his plans, and quietly left the palace.

Ivan chose to glaze over his flashback to Alexander the II's death, and tried to focus the most on the last part of his story. His story was an attempt to keep Matthew's mind of Kumajiro, because the Canadian looked like he was going to have a heart attack.

"What if he's been put in a zoo? Or poached? Or worse, what if someone ate him?" Matthew's fear turned hysterical. Ivan couldn't believe how scared the nation was. He had been fine a few hours ago, but once he realized that Kumajiro wasn't with him he just shut down.

Ivan had to drive to the hotel to prevent Matthew from taking a plane ride back to America.

"Can't you sense his presence? Is he not a part of you?" Ivan asked a question that had been on his mind when he first met the Canadian as a colony. It was curious how Kumajiro was clearly his own being, and yet he barely aged with Matthew.

The Canadian drummed his fingers on the chair of a hotel room and glanced at his cellphone.

"Yes- well, no. We're always together you know. He's always been there for me. And I decided to always be there for him." Ivan caught on to the selective word choice and decided not to comment on it. "Yeah, I can feel him kind of. But it's not like he's a part of me. I think he's something like a nation too, but he's not a nation. I don't know what he represents, or if he represents anything..." Ivan contently leaned back in his chair as Matthew occupied himself with trying to explain what Kumajiro was.

"Anyway, he's never died before."

"So you don't know if he can revive like us?" Ivan said with realization.

Matthew mutely nodded, and his face turned even paler. "I have to go back too find him!" The Canadian finally snapped and bolted up from his chair.

Ivan moved to restrain the Canadian, but a few loud knocks on the door distracted him.

"Mattie? Are you in there? I have a present for you, express delivery." Alfred's muffled voice came from the other side of the door.

"Who?" Kumajiro's voice could be heard. Matthew immediately opened the door and scooped the adorable little polar bear into his arms. He muttered sweet things in French into Kumajiro's fur, and the polar bear noticeably tightened and he nuzzled his face into his nation's chest.

"Who?" The bear whispered before falling asleep.

Matthew looked up from Kumajiro with tears in his eyes and Alfred gave him a sheepish smile. "He crawled into my suitcase to eat my beef jerky. I would stay and chat, but I think the president is about to shit bricks because I skipped his meeting. I'll see you later." Alfred lightly smacked Matthew on the side of his head before he left.

Ivan looked back at Toris, who was awkwardly reading a newspaper on his bed, and called his name.

"Many thanks for letting us stay here while our rooms are being prepared." Ivan thanked the Lithuanian, who immediately stood and bowed. "I-It's nothing." Toris nervously waved him off.

Once Matthew had his bear safe in his arms, he gratefully smiled at Ivan- but couldn't help but ask a question.

"Did you ever go?" Matthew asked.

Ivan gave him a blank look.

"To England." Matthew clarified.

A strange emotion flickered across Ivan's face and the man shrugged, but the action was noticeably stiff.

"So you were paying attention. Nyet, I didn't. Toris intercepted me before I could leave the country. We talked for a while and he convinced me to return." Ivan vaguely glossed over the details in a way that Matthew knew he was hiding something.

He didn't press the issue though- it wasn't his place. Ivan glanced at his watch and pat his friend on the shoulder. "I must get going, I believe my room is ready. Keep a closer eye on your bear, da?" Ivan remarked before he left the room.

Matthew shifted Kumajiro's weight across his arms and merely sighed, it seemed like Ivan wasn't going to tell him that story. But as he packed, he nearly forgot that Toris was there. The Lithuanian thoughtfully crossed his arms when Matthew left, and looked out the window with an idea in mind.

Phew, this was a long chapter to write. Spring break has finally rolled around and I'm ready to just sleep. I want to thank everyone who's read this far, and thank everyone who've reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. You guys are awesome! Please don't be afraid to shoot me a PM or a review to tell me what I did wrong. And it would be cool if you reviewed it if you liked to too. Tomayto tomahto. Have a great week!

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