A/N: Hello everyone in the Hetalia fandom! This is my humble little story right here, my second serial Hetalia fiction. But I am trying to write this story with a purpose.

What purpose could that possibly be? Okay, let's explain.

January 11th, 2007: The world got news that there would be a Hetalia video game! All the Hetalia Junkies around rejoiced, some even cried in joy..!

But then we saw what the game actually was.

A dating sim.

A high-school themed… DATING SIM?

Me, and every other Hetalia fan who happens to be a hardcore gamer, literally went 'W… T… F… ?'

There is too, too, too much potential with Hetalia for it to be squandered down to a dating sim. Which, in order to add insult to injury, only lets you play as Seychelles.


I… was enraged. A lot of my online friends were enraged. If you like dating sims, that's fine. I admire a couple dating sims for what they've done in the gaming field.

But not for Hetalia.

My revelation for the idea that spawned this fic came about when I was playing 'Tatsunoko Vs. Capcom'. I had been playing as mostly the Tatsunoko characters and after a while, I said "See, this game just shows why and how they should make a Hetalia fighting game!'

Unfortunately, I was on the phone with my friends at the time: one, my little chibi, who could care less about Hetalia (although she says that Japan is the only cute one). And the other, one of my best guy friends… Who HATES Hetalia.

Me and him ended up getting into a heated debate in which we actually brought up some technical figures (production costs, proper release times, who would buy it) but the debate resulted in me not talking to him for a full day afterwards.

However, I just decided to go ahead and start writing out a good (at least in my mind, you all can contribute) script for a good, serious, Hetalia-based fighting game.

This fic will have some mentions (maybe some scenes) of yaoi. But the official manuscript probably won't, just for the sake of the production companies and Hidekazu-sama taking it seriously.

Like I said before, I need help on this. I * eye twitches * was going to have a community for this started on deviantart… but the sight, for some reason, does not LIKE ME… So the community will probably be based on Facebook and, if this gets serious enough, Twitter.

You know I'm serious if I'm thinking of starting a Twitter for this because… I never really understood the purpose of Twitter…

Anyway, this fic is placed in this section of ff because some of the most intense parts are the ones dealing with Russia or America or both. The other nations will have moments in this (since that's one of the few points I thought could have been made better in the movie) and… If anything else pops up, I will acknowledge it as time goes on. The same with any questions or contributions.

Okay, I've talked for way too long! Let's go!

Disclaimer – I don't own anything by Hidekazu Himaruya. Hell, if I got in touch with him and he was nice about it, he would own this manuscript. I do somewhat own some of the OCs that will be used. Why do I say 'some'? … You'll understand if you support the project.

Tyranno's girl Productions and

The Hetalia – Rise of the Ancients (ROTA) Project

Gladly present…

Siberia. That strange land near Russia that was constantly tormented with frigid gales and thicker than thick blankets of snow and ice. Skies that were constant dark and grey, a distinct lack of sunlight making this whole area almost inhabitable.

But wait. What was that in the distance?

Despite all the wind and ice, there was a mansion built in the deepest parts of the area. It was a grand building; almost five floors up with regal marble and crystal pillars holding up the roof and archways. The whole structure was painted in greys and whites, in order to blend in with the environment.


Inside the mansion, the floors were made of thick, lush carpeting but the wallpaper and fixtures were slowly falling apart. The only reason that the large house wasn't completely forsaken (like a certain Slavic nation's house) was because this place still had a care-giver. No, it wasn't its owner.

An old woman, her greying hair in a bun with curled whisps falling at the sides of her face, walked into the main sitting room of the mansion. The space was quite large, with furniture dating from centuries ago till today decorating it. A fireplace was roaring; wood splitting and crackling from the heat in the wall in front of an ornate, grey sitting chair. The old woman, with her black work clothes hanging of her thin frame, walked over to the chair, holding a silver tray that held a steaming teapot, a cup, a bottle of vodka, and a plate of bread with some jam on the side.

"Sir, your tea." The being in the chair sighed, a cold breeze moving through the room and almost killing the fire, before they held up a hand in a 'come here' gesture. The woman nodded and moved to the front of the chair where an older man sat. His long white hair fell down his back, covered by an aged fur-lined hat. His chest and body was dressed in thick, coarse grey and white clothing, metal plates covering vital parts, and heavy boots on his feet. His face, a scar here and there among the wrinkles of age, mouth surrounded by a thick white beard, and his eyes a cold, freezing combination of grey and blue. For a brief second, the screen reads: General Winter (?)- ?, before General Winter began,

"Oh. Thank you Olga." The personification of Winter slowly poured himself a cup of tea, to which he added a liberal amount of vodka before drinking from it and preparing a piece of bread. As General Winter ate and drank, Olga (his loyal maid, who seemed to be almost as immortal as him… Almost) sighed as she looked outside at the swirling snow. It always got this way before Winter made his rounds. She was quickly brought out of her thoughts when Winter set his cup down on the tray and stood up.

"Where shall you be going today sir?" Olga began as she began cleaning up. Winter straightened himself up as he replied,

"China… Japan… The eastern coast of America…" He readjusted his boots before he added, "And I think that I will visit Russia on the way back." Olga nodded and asked,

"Would you like me to open the door for you, sir?" Winter nodded once and Olga quickly made her way to the mansion's front doors and, with a bit of struggle, opened the large doors.

"Spasibo." Winter announced before, with a deep sigh, his whole being transformed into a burst of snow, wind, and ice that, after making a round of the room, rushed out of the front door.

If there was one thing that General Winter despised… It was the human beings that lived in this modern era. China… He was never on good terms with Yao, so his people simply aggravated him with their limited beliefs and over-high standards. After creating a slight blizzard, he moved on to Japan. The people here were… slightly better. But that was only the less than substantial amount of them who still respected nature and the old ways of life. A light powder.

America's eastern coast… No matter how matter how many times he belted this area with snow, the people would still be as selfish and as irritating as ever. He sighed as he sent down a heavy blizzard, they were definitely following the example of their nation himself.

England was always quite the trip to make, always because of all the spirits and magical beings that the UK Brothers (Ireland, Scotland, and England) harbored and claimed. General Winter always hated ghosts, and England was full of them. He caused a brief snowstorm and was off.

Russia. This… This child that he had been keeping enemies away from via his ice and winds. The same child now thought he was grown enough to try and force him away.

Key word being 'try'.

A light dusting of snow would turn into significant snow-banks if left long enough. Winter made his presence known for a few more hours before finally beginning the trip home.

Olga had already opened up the window of the sitting room, allowing General Winter to rush right in. After his frame settled down from its snowy state, the Ancient personification removed his hat and asked, "Is dinner prepared?"

"Yes sir." Olga bowed, "It will be waiting in the dining hall when you're ready." The elderly maid silently walked back to the kitchen, knowing that the other would want to be alone right now. When he was the only presence in the room, General Winter groaned, just wanting to shut himself away from the world. That was why he made his home here in this barren wasteland. But, when that solitude wasn't enough, he had one other means of settling his soul. His eyes looked back to make sure that he was alone. When he was absolutely sure, he walked over to the still flaming fireplace.

With a wave of his hand, the fires instantly froze into crystal-blue versions of their former selves. The walls, fireplace included, split right down the middle and slowly slid away from each other, revealing a stairway that appeared to go deep down into the earth. Winter quickly walked down, the path memorized by heart; the walls growing colder and covered by ice and crystal as he went down. Finally, he came to a room at the base of the stairs. There was a golden sitting chair that stood in front of a new fireplace. General Winter slowly lit the hearth and looked above it.

On the wall, just over the mantle, was an Ancient woodcutting of a group of people: men and women from all over the world. Winter was quiet as he looked at the worn, aging images. Despite himself, he found himself remembering voices from the day that the woodcut was made.

"Ach du liber, would you stay still?"

"How can I when we're in the company of such pretty women?"

"Foreign men are so troublesome…"

"Good kitten, sweet kitten…"

"C'n w' pl'se h'rry th's up? M' arm's l'sing 'll f'ling!"

"Just a few more moments. Oh! What are you doing over there?"

"Well, I –"

"Stand over here with me. Right here in the middle."

"Thousands upon thousands of years…" General Winter sighed, laying his hand onto the woodcut, "And all I have left of those days is an image?" In his silent, shut away sanctuary, Winter's same thoughts rose up, as they did time and time again. 'This world is merely a sham of what it once was… My friends…" His fingers slowly moved to the carving of the woman in the middle. 'All that was precious to me… Taken.' "And for what?" He whipped around, moving his hands to cause a small wind to rush through and move the large curtain on the wall away, revealing a large, icy, crystal that had been embedded into the wall. Winter frowned as he circled it then snapped his fingers. Images of the nations of the world rolled across the crystal and the more he watched, the more furious he became until finally, he roared,

"I… have… Had… ENOUGH!"

The General rushed over to a section of the wall that, upon knocking on it, opened up and revealed a thick book. It was bound in aged red leather, an ancient language of lines and symbols etched onto the spine and cover in pure gold. Winter's freezing hands grasped the book, and moved into the area of his sanctuary that had more room.

By more room, we meant an auditorium's worth. General Winter slowly moved until he was in the center of the area surrounded by ice-covered walls. The white-haired man held up the book and opened it to the second to the last page. His icy eyes ran over the words before he closed them and began reciting whatever he remembered. The words that held powerful magic filled the air, echoing off the walls.

Winter had been reciting for thirty minutes when the walls of the space began to glow with the same color as his eyes. The more he recited, the stronger the glow got as a frigid wind picked up and swirled inside the space.

Abruptly, the walls started cracking. But they cracked in specific patterns and shapes before falling to the floor. But they didn't break. They were joined by snow and stray pieces of crystal as they formed into all sorts of creatures; some human shaped, others like strange beasts or animals.

Winter sharply inhaled before closing the book, the spell complete. Surrounding him were strange beings composed of the same materials he had chosen to surround himself with. It was a din of noise as they all strived to find their creator. Winter snapped his fingers, the small noise echoing and catching the attention of the army. When one of them, shaped like a vicious wolf made of ice and crystal, walked forward and bowed its head, Winter rubbed the cold beast's head.

"You are all going to make me," General Winter looked over his army, "A very grateful man." When he was sure that he had the group's attention, he turned towards the large crystal that was showing the images of the nations. "There… Are your targets." The large army looked and gave various sounds, growls, groans, and roars as they took in the various pictures.

"Bring them to me.", Winter's cold eyes narrowed in the darkness.