(Author's note- Okay first off, ahhhhhhh! Thank you to everyone who read my story, and especially thank you to Cone of Depression for your lovely reviews. In regards to the Scotland thing, logically he would want Matthew for immortality, but I low key imagined him using the hair to cure hangovers lol. Anyway please consider reviewing. It's honestly sooooo inspiring. Also I do not own Hetalia or Pocahontas. All rights go to Disney and Hidekaz Himaruya. Enjoy!)

Pocahontas

Ivan (Russia)= Pocahontas (He was the chief of his people, the Soviets, but was deemed unfit to lead after he fell in love with and was caught kissing Alfred)

Alfred (America)= John Smith (Don't worry, if USUK is more your speed, I have a different thing planned)

Natalya (Belarus)= Kocoum/Powhatan/Ratcliffe/Idk man, she's evil (She had a crush on Ivan forever, but after she saw him with Alfred, she became bitter and angry and used it as an excuse to regain control)

Toris (Lithuania)= Nakoma/Kocoum

Never had Ivan felt more trapped than he did right then. Because he had reached the limits of his physical capabilities, but couldn't afford to slow down. While his mind, his heart was screaming to go faster, faster, faster, the burning in his legs and lungs told him otherwise. It wasn't enough, as he dodged around a large boulder and leaped over another small stream. Every second, footstep, breathe he wasted trying to get to the cliff where the execution was planned was a second he imagined Alfred lying dead, his head cut off at the hands of his sister. So he channeled that love that had broken all the barriers the world could throw at them and tried to break another. He ran faster.

The distant sound of the drums that once signalled home but now spelt nothing but sorrow sent his heart racing. He was so focused on going faster, because now in the distance he could see the peak of the cliff, he didn't even feel the tears coursing down his cheeks. Nothing else mattered but joining the second half of his heart that was tied up and cursing at Natalya as the others dragged him towards the crest of the peak.

Finally Ivan reached the crowd gathered near near the cliff. Eyes locked on the prone form of his lover who should have been standing tall, laughing hysterically, blushing in embarrassment, not kneeling on the ground, fear barely concealed in his stupid, ugly, beautiful face, waiting for death. The former chief began shoving people out of the way, with no regard to anyone's safety other than Alfred's.

"Ivan?!" A shocked Toris exclaimed and moved to grab his friend's arm, but it was like trying to grab the wind, or stop an avalanche, an immovable force.

Finally Ivan was through and stood right behind his sister. He noticed a lot of things: Natalya's arm raised, infamous dagger in hand, Alfred's group approaching in the distance, gun's raised and ready for war, and a blood red sunrise ominously framing it all. The only thing Ivan really saw though was the utter defeat in Alfred's eyes, a pain that left Ivan breathless.

Almost instantly he was on top of the explorer. Their bodies fit together perfectly, Ivan wrapping his arms tightly around the American. It was a desperate embrace for a desperate situation, both parties terrified of having to let go and never being able to return. He felt Alfred's breathing quicken, and even that little sign of life moved him to tears at the thought of it all being gone.

"Stop! Natalya, everyone stop!" The Russian man yelled, desperate to be heard amongst the sounds of brewing war. Murmurs resonated over both Ivan and Alfred's groups. Somehow Toris had pushed his way to the front of the crowd and was looking from Ivan to Natalya, debating whether to support his friend or not.

Natalya's face was a picture of livid rage, distorting what would normally be a very beautiful woman. Through gritted teeth, she hissed, "You are no longer chief Ivan, you do not make that call."

Ivan shot back with equal bitterness, "I do not need to be chief to make the right decision, sister. Stubborn ignorance has ruled my path for too long, and it has lead us down a path of violence."

At this Ivan rose to his full height, pulling Alfred up with him. When he began speaking again, he wasn't addressing Natalya or the Westerners or anyone, not even Alfred. He was just speaking the words that needed to be heard.

"I have seen so much in my life, an entire nation grow, but nothing more significant than what has been learned most recently. We are all different, and all of us are guilty of using that difference as excuses. But I have seen through the difference, through the lens and seen that our differences are nothing. We all smile and laugh, cry and yell, live and die, and most of all, love." At this Ivan turned towards Alfred, who had managed to free his arms of the ropes that had previously tied him. Cupping Alfred's face in his hands, he gently leaned forward to kiss him. After he pulled away, Alfred began blushing an adorable red that Ivan couldn't help but giggle at.

Natalya somehow seemed even more angry, but just as she stepped forward, Toris also moved to stand in front. His voice lost its perpetual stutter as he called out, "Listen to Ivan! We have blamed each other for being violent, but look at us! All prepared to go to war! I am not claiming to be wiser, or braver, or stronger, but if Ivan's path leads to peace and my best friend being happier than he's ever been before, and Natalya's leads to more blood being spilt, then the choice seems clear to me."

The silence was deafening. No soul was stupid enough to be the first to move. Until Alfred broke free of Ivan's grip and stepped toward Toris. With the dorkiest grin Ivan had ever seen, he hugged Toris close and whispered a barely audible, "Thank you."

All at once Soviets and Westerners alike looked down at their weapons, as if wondering what had happened that had compelled them to pick up the vile things in the first place. One by one swords and guns were put down, and somewhat tense but well-natured smiles were shared. All were collectively taking a step towards a better future.

All but one.

"No!" Natalya's screech was like a banshee's cry, chilling and overflowing with underlying madness. "I have waited my whole life for you, I have given you my everything, and this is how you repay me!"

Ivan was suddenly acutely aware of the knife still clenched in his sister's fist, and subconsciously stepped towards the equally concerned American.

"Natalya," Alfred said calmly, and Ivan wanted to scream at him to run, for both of them to run, because after all they had been through, all the Russian man desperately wanted was his happy ending, "I know you're upset, and I know it's hard, but Ivan doesn't love you. He never will."

Laughter echoed over the clearing, cold and merciless, broken and too, too sad. Natalya's manic giggles coupled with the tear stains on her cheeks sang a song of heartbreak. Her retort was slow and teasing. "Yeah… he doesn't… and it's all because of you!"

The knife whipping from its concealment behind her back to in front of her and lunging towards a shocked Alfred took only moments. It was too quick for Alfred to try and move out of the way. But for Ivan, who had spent the whole exchange ready to protect his American dream, it was just enough time.

Lunging forward to tackle Alfred out of the way, he gasped as the breath was knocked out of him when they collided with the rock ground. In the background, Ivan heard a struggle as presumably Toris and others dragged a screaming Natalya away. Then the previous chief gasped again as adrenaline faded, and the pain in his back and abdomen went from a dull ache to so poignant and overwhelming he could almost taste it.

"Ivan…" Alfred breathed out as he noticed the blood pouring onto the ground from the stab wound in Ivan's back. Then when the pain became to much, and Ivan collapsed forward on the American's shoulder, the name became more frantic. "Ivan. Ivan. Ivan, Ivan, IvanIvanIvan! IVAN!"

Everything, every sense was sharp, burning and twisting across his mind. The ground beneath him was a searing hot hell, the air was thick and impossible to breath, and the sounds all around echoed over and over again, increasing until they were all he could hear and completely numb in his ears. The only constant as Ivan drifted was Alfred's voice, so strong, so weak, dreamlike and beautiful.

Memories blurred and shifted, people touched him, hugged him, his mom, dad, Toris, Natalya, and Alfred. Whose blue eyes, filled with anger and panic and sadness and maybe even love but Ivan was fading too fast to know, were seared into his thoughts as his eyes closed, and he finally fell into a warm sleep. The voices were last to leave, but Ivan was glad. Glad that the last thing he ever knew was his lover's, his hero's voice.

"Who are you?"

"Ivan, please!"

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"Hold on! Please hold on!"

"Well cutie, my name's Alfred F. Jones!"

"For god sakes someone help him!"

"Of course I'm the hero! It's what I was born to do."

"No! No!"

"I'll see you later, right?"

"Please… don't leave me!"

And all Ivan wanted to do was tell him he wasn't leaving him, that he didn't want to let go, that there was no help for the world for him, but Ivan's time was up. One day he would have the chance though. He would wait for that day, when Alfred would join him in his field of yellow sunflowers.

(Sorry, if you thought this would have a happy ending… if it makes you feel better, I was an emotional wreck writing it. But yeah, sorry)