The room was bright, as two of the walls were entirely devoted to wide arching windows, built out of red Spanish rock. The sky was blue, with white puffy clouds floating in it; the sea bluer still. The view of the sea from the window was hypnotic, the sight and sound of the salty waves hitting the sand lulled even the most devoutly tense person into a calm state. A warm breeze further carried the sounds and scents of the sea to the room, and Scotland couldn't help himself as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to breathe in the scent of warm salt water, something that wasn't anywhere near to his home.

Scotland rested his head against the arching of the window frame as he sunned on the stone windowsill behind his chair, one leg draped on each side of the windowsill. In his gloved hand he held the silver gilt card that bore his name, debating how much trouble he'd get in if he chucked it out the window. Maybe it would fly against the damn persistent wind and land in the sea, where it would be more useful as fish food.

"Should I push you, see how far you bounce?" Prussia asked with a smile, setting his papers at his place next to Scotland and picking up his own card with a sneer, "what is this shit."

Scotland opened his eyes slowly, his face spreading into a smile, "Care to bet on how far I'd go?" He turned and held his card out to Gilbert, "you'll find a better use for this I'm sure."

China choose this moment to dignify this with a tut and snort as he sat it his seat on Scotland's other side, "the meeting isn't even ready to start and you two are trying to start a war." China shook his head as he smirked, "How unlike the pair of you."

Snorting, Scotland threw his leg over the windowsill and stood up behind his chair, clapping China on the shoulder with his hand, "Morning, geezer."

"Geezer?" Yao tilted his head to glare at Scotland, "to what do I owe this disrespect?" He smiled fully as he watched Scotland roll his eyes and promptly order oolong tea for him from one of the humans that would be staffing the conference. First seep oolong no less.

Allistor nodded at the woman's retreating back with a wide, knowing smile, "There, honor restored."

Yao laughed, his head tilting back as the high white collar of his outfit pulled down his throat. He truly did not mind the antics Gilbert and Allistor got themselves into, he found them rather amusing at times.

"Gilbert, would you please get your muddy boots off of the fine Spanish tablecloth," Yao remarked flatly, letting his back slightly lean against the back of his chair as he kept it straight. It would do no good to allow himself to become lax with his rules, even if the rest of the world was getting lax as he sat there.

Gilbert turned his head from a conversation with Sweden and the Ottoman Empire, looking at Yao with his mouth open. He had thrown his legs up on the table to brace himself as he leaned back in his chair, the front two legs a foot or so from the ground, "What?"

"Feet off the table!" Egypt demanded, quickly taking his seat next to Yao and spreading his pre prepared notes in front of him, "that's horridly rude Prussia."

With another roll of his eyes, Scotland smoothly slapped Gilbert on the top of his head as he turned around to scan the room, "Down boy."

Scowling, Gilbert let his chair fall to the ground with a loud thump, followed with a loud chorus of laughter as he accidently let his head continue its momentum forward into the table, his nose loudly meeting the edge of the table.

"Mother fu-"he spat as he clamped his hand over his nose, blood trickling down his face.

"Good morning," Greece called down the table with a wave, taking his seat next to Egypt, "I hope the rain holds off for another few days, I like the windows open. Prussia, what happened to your face this time?"

"Oh blow it out your ear!" Prussia demanded.

"Morning shitling!" Sadik called from the other end of the table, elbows propped on the table as he leered at Greece, "looking forward to the rain later today?"

Greece shook his head and ignored the man, focused on making sure he didn't pull the tablecloth off the table as he scooted his chair in like last year, "it's not going to rain today."

Allistor shook his head and looked around the room again, noting that most of the countries where here, they were just milling about and talking like normal humans. Well, except for England of course, but that's just because no one wanted to talk to the lazy git anyway. That wasn't true, Dylan was happily trying to drag his brother into a conversation, but Arthur wasn't having any of it, he kept staring at Francis from his table, which was in the front to Scotland's right. It was a habit for Arthur to sit towards the left in a room, so he could easily draw his sword and not worry about hitting a wall. Granted, Arthur had always been horrible with a sword, especially when compared to his brothers. The Frenchmen was deep in a conversation with Japan and a new comer Allistor didn't recognize.

That could be why Arthur was trying to light Francis on fire where he stood; the Frenchmen had quite a reputation for sponsoring new countries when they wanted to gain their independence in a meeting. Japan wasn't exactly a new comer at these meetings, but usually he preferred to sit in the back of the room and observe. This time he was seated at the front most tables on the left with Francis and the newcomer. At some point Switzerland was to join them at their table, but he wouldn't sit down until Lily was taken care of.

That was something that confused Scotland and Prussia, and they had talked about it several times. Switzerland was oddly protective of Lily, even though they were about the same age as each other, and everyone knew she could take care of herself. Several times Scotland had been required to pull her off of Gilbert to keep Gil's brain in his head after he'd insulted her.

Lily held an honorary position of power at the conferences; she was the minute keeper, and had a table all to herself on Sadik's other side. Not only did she have her own table, always draped with a purple cloth because that's how she liked it, she had two humans who were assigned to her, who were in charge of making sure she had everything she needed to keep an accurate recording of the meeting.

On the other side of their long table was the Boss's chair. It was tradition that only nations and allowed humans were in the meetings, but should the host countries boss want to sit in and watch the proceedings, they were given their own place to sit. Very few boss's ever attended a meeting, if one ever did attend, it was because they were thanking all the countries for support in a matter, or they have just been made a nation's boss, and wanted to introduce themselves. More often than not it was one of the boss's small children that sat in the seat until they fell asleep from all the boring proceedings. Children were, for some reason, attracted to the energy that radiated off of a nation, and when there was such a large group of nations in one room, it was hard for them to stay away. This was one of the reasons that a human was assigned to this chair, in case a child needed tending to, or a boss simply expected a warm seat when the time came.

A small clock hung on the wall by this special chair, its pendulum swinging as it slowly counted the minutes down to when Scotland would have to officially open the meeting and keep all these people in line. Most of the time it was simple to keep the order, but the board as the countries who sat at the long table in the front were called expected it. There were too many probing questions that needed to be answered, too many answers that were sure to incite the room into a riot. And it was Allistor's job to keep that from happening. In a way, they looked forward to the time when they could step down from the board and simply be the countries that never attended meetings, but that time was not now. They were the oldest countries, or the most powerful. Or in Scotland's case, Arthur refused to do it; else he would have his place on the board.

The table that sat front and center at any meeting was reserved for the host country and their affiliates. Granted, this was one of the first few times they'd actually used circular tables, usually people had to sit at long tables and try not to throw paper wads at the person who sat in front of them. Generally speaking the host country was the last to arrive, and after they were seated the meeting was to begin. Then again, Spain had a habit of not following tradition, and he was busy explaining to people where he had been for the past several months. Spain had dropped off the face of the planet early March, and this was the first time most people were seeing or hearing from him, and they wanted answers.

The two tables in the back were already full. The back right table always held the same two people, India and Persia. Every now and then another country would sit with them, but most of the time Yao and Egypt would sit with them on all breaks and talk about very old times. Sometimes Sadik would join them, laughing about how many more times their official names would change, but generally he hung around his group of colonies he either controlled or used to control.

The back left was usually set aside as a free for all, but currently it seemed that Bosnia and Hezergzeta were deep in conversation with Poland and Lithuania, both of whom held their shoulders stiffly as they talked, glancing at Austria's back every few minutes. Little did they realize it was actually Ludwig who was watching them the entire time, clearly making a mental note to tell Austria that the countries he was currently lording himself over were talking to unapproved guests, and undoubtedly trying to garner support for their freedom.

Nations were forbidden to come armed into any meeting, to do so was an insult to everyone present, and would cause you to be forced from the meeting until you were deemed fit to return. Until this rule was adopted, Arthur had gotten several swords stuck in the low ceilings of tavern's they'd held meetings at, and tables had been overturned on many broken toes. Unlike when the ancient countries had meetings, it was not practical to make a show of placing your weapon before you. There were just too many nations to try and keep from killing each other to show off a shiny new sword, or a gun, or if Scotland remembered correctly, his mother had told him about how once Ancient Egypt, Egypt's mother, had brought a book to a meeting as her weapon of choice, a book with fine inked pictures.

Austria clearly was uncomfortable being seated at the table in the center of the room, surrounded by his fellow nations. There must have been some part of him that either knew, or he realized when he had done it that his actions during the past year would be brought up for public examination, and he hadn't of cared. Or, perhaps he thought he was in the right. Austria felt his shoulders stiffen even more as he spied Russia's cold eyes gazing over him. Russia was a sworn enemy, and as such he could be trusted. Not that Roderich ever trust Ivan in the first place.

Russia was seated with most of the Nordic's, who he was busy entertaining with a story about how some of his lakes decided to grow icebergs one day and sent them down the river like huge boats, scaring and fascinating his people. Denmark was enthralled by the story, and Norway and Finland were merely showing polite attentiveness as they scanned over the agenda and tried to form their own opinions about what was going on.

"Maybe Nessie wanted to travel and she tried to surface in all those lakes?" Demark suggested, "I'm sure she didn't realize how early the lakes freeze!" Denmark had no problems talking with Ivan, as long as they could find something in common to talk about. Today it was snow, as they were not used to such warm weather in November.

"Nessie?" Russia questioned as he tilted his head, "I don't think I know anything by that name."

Finland laughed, eyes meeting Ivan's fully, "Nessie is the name of the monster that lives in Scotland, in one of the lochs up north. I'm surprised you haven't heard about her."

Ivan found himself smirking, and resting his chin on his folded hands, "tell me more."

Elizabeta found herself, to put it mildly, pissed off. Here she was, sitting next to her brooding husband and newest signed ally, debating with herself the best way to kill them both with the least amount of attention and external blood loss. But alas, here she sat, one leg tucked behind the other, shoulders held stiffly back as he hands lay folded properly in her lap. Her gaze was directed at Italy, who sat next to her at their table, talking away.

Try as she might, Elizabeta was only able to pay attention to every fifth or sixth word out of Italy's mouth, but it was more than enough for her to keep the conversation on track. Her monosyllable answers were also enough for Italy to keep their conversation going. Sometimes it was nice that Italy didn't know when to stop talking.

Every so often, her gaze would drift away from Italy's brown eyes and catch Ludwig's bright blue ones. Her gaze would always snap back to Italy, finding a small measure of comfort as she looked at his ancient brown eyes.

No, not quite ancient, she thought to herself, Feli was only several hundred years older than her, and a proven warrior, but he was not yet ancient. If he was ancient, Yao really should be a pile of dirt by now, as should Persia and India. Italy would have been a more logical choice for a new political alliance, and probably a safer choice. But Feli, despite his talent with a bow, detested conflict and confrontation to the point of puking after taking a life. And of course, Elizabeta smirked, it had always been up to her to take care of the boy and get the vomit out of his clothes after.

She caught Ludwig's gaze and held it this time, letting the power of over a thousand years flow through her eyes and into his.

Ludwig looked back at Roderich, properly chastened.

Elizabeta held back the sigh she wanted to let out. She did not enjoy having to be harsh to Gilbert's brother, but he was in over his head. Ludwig was not underestimated by her, she knew better. She had seen how Gilbert had raised the boy, and seen how he did not yet possess the stomach to be a strong country that could go toe to toe with one of them.

Feli had, and Feli could probably do it again if he wanted. She had seen this boy in action, and listened as he never acted his age, or boasted of his skills. Italy was a threat to anyone who did not have him on their side, and Roderich seemed to have forgotten this. Or, she mused, it could be that Feli did not give his all unless he personally felt it right. Probably why he didn't fight any about the number of times he was invaded or anything. He knew better than to kick up a fuss, after all, the world can't stay the same forever.

Ludwig was a child, barely 40 years old and already had sworn his country to defend Roderich and hers honor should the need arise. He was a fool. As was Rodrick, for thinking Ludwig was ready for something like this.

The treaty.

The God damn curses treaty.

The treaty that bore the signatures of Roderich, Ludwig, and Hungary. Not Elizabeta, but Hungary, because she personally refused to sign the damn thing. But what Roderich signed she had to sign, but she was letting it be known that she did not want to sign that piece of paper.

Roderich's shoulder bumped against hers, and she glanced at him, deep in conversation with Ludwig about some of the finer points of treaty work. The look on Ludwig's face concerned her, just like when he agreed to sign it originally.

Agreed without asking Gilbert first.

Signed it without telling Gilbert first.

Elizabeta had been the one to tell Gilbert about the treaty, and how she honestly felt it would be a mistake for Ludwig to get himself wrapped up in the mess that was coming.

Everyone in Europe knew it, from the moment Bosnia was invaded, everyone knew. There was a war coming, and by Hell or high water it was going to get here. There wasn't a damn thing any of them could do to stop it at this point, time had altered from the moment Roderich issued the command.

The French and English treaty had been the start.

The treaty between Russia and the French and English had been the final straw for Roderich. IT was clear now that France and England would be against Austria-Hungary in any conflict that arose. And because they were already on tense terms with Russia, any alliance put them at risk. Which is why they needed Italy.

But Roderich wanted Ludwig.

Not Gilbert, he refused to deal with Gilbert.

He went after Ludwig, and somehow won him over.

Elizabeta knew that Roderich had a control issue at times, it was part of the reason he was so brilliant on his piano, because he was in complete control of his fingers. When Roderich didn't control a situation, he always felt that somehow he would get stabbed in the back.

Paranoia she called it.

Experience, he would tell her with a smirk, running his finger lightly down her cheek before going back to whatever he had been doing.

But experience didn't explain why Roderich no longer listened to her. Her, Elizabeta, the country and woman he was currently married to. The one person who was allowed to sit with him on his piano bench while he was playing and listen to his mistakes. Listen to how he flawlessly turned his errors into extra measures or a coda. How he handled himself so eloquently on the piano and on the dancefloor as they waltz the night away, but could not get through a political debate with her was confusing. And annoying. Roderich should have known that Gilbert was able to set aside personal agendas and desires when it came to his country, and especially it if involved his little brother. More likely than not, Gilbert would have eventually agreed to a treaty with them. It would have had to been altered form the version Ludwig signed, which was the same as the one Roderich set on the table before him, but Gilbert still would have helped them.

But Roderich still couldn't see past that, even after all this time. He couldn't see that the world was changing. It was no longer appropriate to just invade a country and take over, it was more civilized now. More rules. Although, some could call it less civilized, seeing as countries were rapidly reaching the point where they couldn't do anything without someone over their shoulder, something they all hated when they were younger.

She couldn't shake the feeling that Ludwig was a mistake, even as she looked again into his blue eyes and was reminded of Gilbert. There was just something so off about the boy. Yes, he would undoubtedly grow to become a fine young gentlemen, and a powerful ally, but for now he was just Gilbert's little brother. Ludwig only reached Gilbert's shoulder, and there wasn't a shred of muscle on the boy. He was thin, and lanky, and not all that tall. Alfred, in all his prepubescent glory would make a better political ally then this pipsqueak. But Alfred had also proven himself at a very young age, and could pass for older then he looked, but he seemed comfortable looking 14 to 15. Ludwig looked like he was 12, all the time. Even dressed in nice clothes that were starched and pressed, Elizabeta couldn't trust him. She knew she could trust Gil to do the right thing when shit hit the fan. This kid, she couldn't trust him to be able to pick up a crate of lollipops without breaking himself.

Roderich's cold fingers grasped her wrist lightly and pulled a hand on top of the table, "what are you thinking about so hard," he murmured as he ran his fingers over her hand before grasping it gently, "you're glaring at Italy."

She smiled at Roderich and gently squeezed his fingers, "I'm sorry Italy, I must have had a daydream, what were you saying?"

Ludwig glared at her.

Matthew's eye narrowed as he looked at Elizabeta's stiff posture and hand. Sure, it was joined with Roderich's, but it didn't want to be. Roderich was having trouble keeping his eyes in one place; they looked at something else in the room every few seconds. His own stiff back didn't touch the back of his chair, and both his feet rested firmly, too firmly, on the floor. For the briefest of moments when his eyes left Ludwig's face again, they met with Matthew's. And then they darted away as they connected, almost as if there was nothing there for them to look at.

Just like Matthew wanted them to do.

He wasn't stupid, and Francis kept him in the loop of the going ons in Europe. Even Arthur had started to tell Matthew some of the problems brewing across the ocean, but most of what Matthew knew was through Alfred, even if Alfred didn't know it yet. One of the central points to Matthew's own personal spy ring was run through Washington D.C, and then the information was fed up to Matthew, who examined every piece of paper that came across his desk. There had to be a pattern somewhere, with the increasing number of civilians who seemed to know about the national avatars. Although by this point, Matthew wasn't sure that he would call them civilians, most of them were government people instructed to find their own national avatar. Or in the case of a few idiots, find all of them to rule the world. Matthew scoffed, like that was ever going to happen.

"What's wrong?" Maria leaned across him, dropping a paper with a math equation on his far left side, her mouth hardly moving as she asked her question.

"I just think this is going to be an interesting meeting," Matthew answered vaguely, purple eyes meeting his sister's brown ones, "don't you?"

Maria smiled and straightened up in her seat, adjusting the collar of her dress, "I think so."

"So does uncle Scotty," Alfred remarked lowly, leaning back in his chair and glancing at their uncle in the front of the room, "and Gilbert and Yao."

She laughed loudly, breaking the tense bubble the three had been sitting in hissing under her breath, "why don't you draw some more attention to us you idiot!"

Alfred glared at her as he snatched his math equation off the table, examining it closely. "He hasn't sworn at Arthur yet for not talking to Dylan, he's worried."

"Of course I'm worried!" Matthew remarked, catching onto Maria's intense gaze over his shoulder. Alfred's quiet comment had made them the center of attention by several people who really needed to look the other way. Right now. "No one brought slide rulers for us to finish these equations with!"

"I did bring them," Maria retorted, "but Francis took them when I sat down and brought them out. Something about we had to earn them, whatever that bullshit means."

Arthur, who had been ignoring his brother to watch their table spoke up, "It's because you three pay more attention to your papers then the meeting." He too had noticed that they were attracting some rather intense looks, from countries he wouldn't let look at him that way. Namely Russia, who had been doing his best to leer at the three from across the room without attracting attention. He had been doing a good job, but Francis had spotted him when he was introducing Bulgaria to Japan and Switzerland. It would be a lie to say that Francis was not still fiercely protective of his children, even if they did not consider him their papa anymore. Francis had easily given Arthur the high sign, and it hadn't taken much for Arthur to figure out what was concerning Francis. Russia was force the two of them could deal with when they were on equal terms, but this was a conference, and no one was on equal terms. What had concerned him greatly though, were the looks the boys were receiving from Persia in the back of the room, and Hungary and Ludwig from the middle. Hungary and Ludwig's eyes tended to blank out when they looked towards Matthew, and explained why they were seated the way they were. Anyone who was looking for Alfred or Maria would have to look past Matthew.

Clever.

But Persia had locked her sights on them, and Matthew's trick didn't seem to be fazing her at all. Granted, it could be the angle, she could clearly see the room without having to lean in any direction, but anyone who was old enough knew that she was not someone to be messed with. She was one of the ancients, and she made Ancient Rome look like squealing infant. They were nothing but tiny blips on her radar. Her smile is what concerned Arthur the most, not in all his life did Arthur ever remember her smiling at anyone but Yao and India. Of course, she did smile at the baby countries, who were too young and too small to threaten a butterfly, but that was simply her nature coming out. This was a room full of adult countries, and not a place to let your guard down. The boys must have amused her in some way. Or perhaps their interactions with Maria did.

The trio were uncommonly close. It was not uncommon for countries that considered themselves siblings, such as the Isle siblings or the Nordics to sit together and defend each other. But those three were different. While Alfred and Matthew were twins, they were not the same twins as Italy was. They were entirely separate countries and people, and did not have to ask each other before doing anything. Maria was not technically their sibling, but she was their sibling the way the Nordics were siblings. By land. Even then they were very close, fighting for each other when one could not. After all, it had been Alfred who had fought to allow Maria to sit with him when she had finally become free, even though new countries generally sat in the back or off to the side. But Alfred had always kept two extra seats saved at conferences. For my siblings, he would say. When Arthur would allow Matthew to go, Matthew would sit by Alfred, something Arthur did not mind. The boys were close, and twins were even closer. They needed each other. But now Arthur had no say in if Matthew was allowed to attend, because Alfred and Maria had fought a convincing fight to allow him to be there. They had brought up that Canada runs itself for the most part, not even being called a colony anymore, but a dominion. Surely that was enough to allow Matthew to attend meetings as his own being. Granted, he would still be bound by the rules that he could not work against England or the Queen, and would not be able to bring issues to the table himself, but he should still be permitted to attend without any issues. And she should be allowed to sit with his siblings. They had amused him, and in a fit of laughter Arthur caved, allowing Matthew and several of his other Dominions to attend the meeting. He would have never dared try such a tactic with India, who may be his colony but was far too old and powerful to tolerate such disrespect. It was uncommon though, how quickly the three of them got on the same page when they were in a heated debate, even if they were in separate rooms. He often suspected that the boys could still talk to each other inside their heads as they had down when they were very small children and surrounded by magic, but Matthew had sworn under very serious and intense circumstances that they couldn't anymore, because Alfred didn't have enough magic left to do it. And so he believed him...

"Bullshit!" Alfred yelled across the room, "How am I supposed to do this kind of math without any help?"

"Okay, let's stop this before it even starts," Scotland declared loudly, standing up and facing the room with his arms crossed, "I'm going to call the meeting to order. So everyone sit down, shut up, and let's get this thing going!"

Francis quickly stood up, "before we begin!" He looked at Allistor and waved his hand, "there is an urgent matter of business that must be dealt with quickly. I would like to extend a formal apology to both America and Canada, on behalf of myself and every nation in this room."

His words caused a shock to go around the room, as everyone sat up straight, mouths drew tighter, and Arthur actually looked like he was ready to come out of his chair.

"We apologize for how we treated you and reacted to you when you first told us the news about the Wright Brothers flight. Many of us have now seen with our own eyes what years of uninterrupted work has done to such a discovery," Francis looked at both his boys, hands clasped lightly behind his back, "I am sorry we were not willing or able to help you at the time."

"Papa," Matthew said softly, "Merci."

Alfred quickly dropped his head and picked it back up again, "Thank you. All of you. It means a lot to hear that."

Allistor sighed and rolled his eyes, "Since you're already up, why don't you update us on your bloody tower Francis."

Francis talked about how the Eiffel Tower was to stay standing; his tests on how well it would serve as a radio tower were coming back. The preliminary information showed that the Eiffel Tower was actually a viable place to have radio equipment set up, and had strengthened France's ability to send and receive telegrams and radio messages. Even though the people of Paris had decided the tower was an eyesore, and were still circulating a petition to have the thing torn down and thrown in the river, the tower was here to stay.

"This means that when we officially open the tower to the public as a permanent structure, you are all invited to see the view from the top!" Francis declared loudly, "We will be putting a restaurant on top, only to serve the finest of French food and wine."

Arthur scoffed, "What is it with you people and putting your bloody food everywhere?"

Ludwig looked concerned, "Is un really a good idea to have alcohol on top of a tall building with only a rail between you and death? Is that a normal thing in France?"

"Hey, tone down the morbid reality little brother," Prussia declared from the high table, "I want to be able to drink beer on the damn thing and not get in trouble now!"

Francis smirked and held a finger up in Gilbert's direction, "Wine, Gilbert. And you are still banned from drinking in my country after what happened ze last time you were there!"

Most of the room erupted into laughter at this, and Francis smiled widely at Gilbert, who smirked back.

The rest of the room looked back towards Scotland, who was giving them directions about the rest of the day.

Alfred wasn't paying attention to them. He wasn't looking at his math problem either, instead he'd pulled out a letter from Amelia and opened it again.

Dear Alfred,

I hope work isn't being too hard on you or anything. Or, knowing you, you're actually having to work. Also hoping Matthew is well, and hasn't had to kill you yet. Public school isn't the best thing I've done, but it's not the worst. The worst would problably be sneaking a bottle of scotch away to dump it in the creek so my father couldn't drink it. Don't ask, I did it last week when I knew he wouldn't be home to catch me. I'd get rid of the whole cabinet if I could. But enough about me and my little life, how's the city going? I hope this reaches you before you have to get going to Spain. Send me a letter on the Queen's stationary as a late birthday gift. I'll overlook the fact that you already got me a book, just this once for you. If you don't get this until you get back, I hope you had a nice trip and enjoyed the heat. It's snowing like crazy out here already. Does it snow much in D.C? I have no idea. Hope eyebrows still isn't too mad at me.

Write me when you get a chance,

Amelia

"Is that another letter?" Matthew asked with a raised eyebrow, "have you even responded to her first one yet?"

Alfred nodded, "I sent her one."

"One."

Maria sighed and handed Alfred some paper, "that isn't the best way to write to your girlfriend Alfred."

Scowling, Alfred took the paper and glared at it. They'd been going on like ever since they found out Alfred couldn't write her a letter back. She's eleven, what do kids those age even talk about? Yeah, Alfred could answer the question in her letters and ask some of his own, but that couldn't be all he needed to put in a letter. Matthew tried telling him to just act like he was writing Matt a letter, but Alfred found he couldn't write a letter to Matthew without a pun here, and inappropriate joke here, and a joke about being several hundred years older.

There must be something wrong with him.

"If you don't put pen to paper and write that girl a letter right now," hissed Matthew after he'd watched Alfred set a pen on the paper then yank it away before it left even a dot, "I'm going to ask papa to help you write it! Or worse, write it for you."

Dear Amelia,

I'll do what I can to find some of that, but with my luck I'd get caught and thrown out of the country. I know I'm amazing, but I don't think I could swim that Atlantic and still keep your letter dry and readable. If I can't write the letter, I'll get you a book in Spanish or Italian this time. They aren't that different then French, right? Glad you're liking school. Do what you want with the liquor, just don't get caught. I refuse to read about it in the paper.

Alfred

"You are such a god damn dork," Maria sighed as she read that letter over.

Matthew rolled his eyes but said nothing; Alfred would remember how to write eventually.

After such a light hearted first day, the next few days of the conference flew by, with only minimal input from other countries needed to explain why treaties were drawn up or rejected.

But such a good thing could not last, until the day everyone had been dreading arrived.

The day that had Persia sitting straight up in her seat, eyes firmly set on Austria's head, eyes flickering from it to China's every few minutes. The day that had almost every country's eyes set on Austria as he would be forced to verbally spar with the rest of the world and defend his actions. Austria knew this was coming. Hungary knew this was coming. The world knew this was coming, and they were all terrified.