The next day, Kalda didn't come down from her room.

Britain was starting to worry about her, and he could see that the others were worried about her too.

"I better bring this snack up for her," Britain claimed, holding up a silver tray with a cup of tea and a small slice of cake on it.

"I'll come with," France offered, following his friend up the stairs.

"I'm starting to worry," Britain sighed. "She hasn't come out all day."

"She will," France assured the other blonde. "She always does."

"But this is different," Britain replied. "This time, someone she knows is actually after her. For some pretty messed up reasons, as well."

"I see your point, but all we need to do is help her out," France nodded.

"I'm not really sure there's much that we can do," Britain replied. "One way or another, she's going to go with them. I mean, Veneziano is her brother for goodness sake. I can't take her away from him like this."

"You're forgetting who else is here," France smirked.

"I thought you said that you would raise her wrong," Britain pointed out in confusion, stopping in the hallway to look at him.

"I did, but zhat doesn't mean zhat I still don't care about her," France replied.

Britain sighed and rolled his eyes with a smile.

"You're too much, you know that?" he answered.

"But you love me, anyway," France answered.

"And I still hate you," Britain replied, knocking on Kalda's door.

"Go away!" Kalda yelled at them. "I'm not hungry and I don't want any company!"

Britain sighed, looking at France.

Britain silently nodded his head at the door, the "Go on you pervy git, say something!" look on his face.

France rolled his eyes, looking at the door.

"It's me, Kalda," he said. "Don't you want to talk to me?"

"No!" Kalda replied.

France sighed, too, and the two men realized that they were out of ideas.

Britain silently put the tray at the foot of her door, gesturing for France to walk away with him.

France nodded, following Britain down the stairs.

"When you can't catch the beast, the best way is to lure them out," Britain grinned triumphantly.

"I don't even want to know anymore," America groaned, annoyed.

"Yeah, well, just remember who tucks you in at night," France happily pat Britain's shoulder, a big grin on his face.

"You tuck me in?" Britain replied, grossed out.

France laughed, obviously amused by Britain's reaction.

"How many of my boundaries have you broken this week?" Britain went on. "First, you kissed me while we did the dishes the night that Kalda freaked out-"

"Ah, ah, ah," France waved a finger, still grinning. "You kissed me first."

"Well, that was because-well, you forced me to-and I-I-" Britain stuttered, completely at a loss.

His face burned, and he felt sick to his stomach because of France's amused grin.

France laughed even more, and Britain went into the kitchen to throw cold water at himself his face was so hot.

"Aw, great," America groaned more. "Now you embarrassed my brother."

"I told you not to throw that word around," Britain told him, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room, drying his hair with a towel.

"Here, let me get that for you," France offered, done with his goofing around.

Britain sighed as France dried his hair for him, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face as he continued talking to America.

"But you agreed to that, I thought," America commented.

"Well, it's better than being called "Arthur" all of the time, I guess," Britain sighed.

"Is that not name?" Russia asked Britain with a smile, looking up from his book.

"Well, yes, but I prefer my country name," Britain answered.

Suddenly, his vision got obstructed by the towel.

"France you git, I need to see!" Britain complained.

"Aw, just calm down and let me finish," France replied in annoyance. "I don't know why you got yourself so wet."

"Did you not see my face?" Britain asked him.

"You are all being too loud," China complained, drowning out the duo's bickering by reading his own book.

"Aw, this is such a cute scene," a voice giggled, bringing all of the men's attention to it.

Britain noticed that Kalda was standing on the stairs, her forearms on the railing as she leaned against it.

"We've got a two person book club going on here, a gay couple thing going on there, and oh, a loner," she continued with a smile. "Ha, ha! So adorable. I have to take a picture of this! Hold on a second while I get my camera, and don't move."

Britain sighed as Kalda came back with her camera, holding it up from her angle on the stairs.

"Smile!" she sang.

Britain tried to, but he ended up not smiling.

Everyone else did and when Kalda looked at the picture, she frowned.

"I said to smile," Kalda glared at the British blonde.

"He never smiles," America told her, gesturing to the pictures on the fireplace. "Just come and see for yourself."

Kalda did just that, seeing all sorts of family pictures that Britain had taken a long, long time ago.

"How come you never smile?" Kalda asked softly.

Britain walked away from France, his hair still a little damp.

"It's a tradition that I hold," he explained. "Back then, the types of cameras we used took too long to load after one picture was taken. We got too tired of smiling while waiting for the camera to load, so then we just didn't smile at all."

"Hm," she nodded. "Well, can you smile once? For me?"

"I smile for you all of the time," Britain told her, crossing his arms.

"I know, but America said-" Kalda cut off.

"I was kidding!" America interjected.

"And I was serious about the cameras," Britain concluded.

Kalda looked at the picture that she had taken and smiled.

"I actually like it this way," she agreed. "It's cute."

Kalda ran up the stairs to put her camera away, and Britain looked at the family photos himself.

She's right, though, he thought to himself as he looked at one of him and Queen Elizabeth the First. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to smile a little more often.

"I'm ready for my bedtime story now," Kalda said quietly, twisting a few strands of her hair between her fingers as she blushed a little.

"Who said we were going to tell a bedtime story?" Britain joked with a grin.

"Uh...me?" Kalda asked, blushing a little more.

Then she sighed.

"I'm sorry," she apologized in a laugh, putting her hand on the back of her neck. "This is stupid. I'm nineteen. I should be able to go to bed myself, shouldn't I?"

"No, no," Britain interrupted. "Come sit down, and I'll tell you one."

Kalda nodded as Britain grabbed a big book off of his bookshelf.

He blew the dust off, a little cloud forming in the air.

"It's a little dusty, but I guess that all of the best books are," he said.

"That was very poetic," Kalda giggled.

"See?" Britain smirked. "I knew you liked poetry."

"Yeah," Kalda agreed. "I guess I do, don't I?"

Britain opened up the book to the first page, France sitting beside him on the couch.

He brought Kalda over with him, setting her on his lap.

"I assume that everyone is comfortable?" Britain asked, everyone nodding in agreement.

Britain smiled as he looked at his book.

"A long time ago, in a kingdom quite far away, there lived a king and a queen," he started off.

"Ugh, is this a love story?" America gagged.

"Will you just listen?" Britain replied.

He looked down at his book again, continuing with,

"One day, they had a beautiful child. However, an evil witch cursed the baby."

"Maybe zhis isn't zhe best time for a story like zhat," France slowly declined.

"No, it's okay, uncle France," Kalda assured him. "I want to hear the rest of it."

"All right," France sighed with a smile, stroking her hair. "If you're sure, my little niece."

"If there are no more interruptions," Britain began through clenched teeth, "The king and queen sent their daughter to live in the king's brother's kingdom, so that way she would be safe from the evil witch."

Kalda shifted on France's lap, seeming to be very interested in the story.

"However, on the princess' sixteenth birthday, the curse on her came true. She was handed over to the evil witch, forced to become her slave.

"One day, when the princess went to the market, she met a handsome prince from her uncle's kingdom. Her cousin had just recently died, so his son took over.

"He fell in love with the princess, and the princess returned his love. He found out what the evil witch was doing with her, so the prince swept the princess off of her feet and took her to his castle.

"They were wed at once, and they lived happily ever after, reigning over their kingdom."

Kalda yawned as she fell asleep on top of France, his chest being her pillow.

"That was so boring, even I'm tired," America joked.

Britain threw a pillow at him, and America laughed.

"That was the best one that I could come up with on such short notice," Britain explained.

"I thought it was good story," Russia smiled.

"I did too," China nodded.

"She's asleep all right," France commented, looking at Kalda. "I don't know how you did it."

"Like I said, his stories are super boring," America continued, but he was ignored.

"By zhe way, who were zhe prince and princess?" France asked, looking at the pages.

Britain smiled, happy that he had asked.

"You've never heard the story of "Cinderella" before?" he replied.

France sighed and shook his head with a smile, knowing that it was a fake story.

"You naughty wizard boy," he said, calmly stroking Kalda's hair.

Britain just chuckled softly, his smile growing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kalda woke up at her usual time the next morning, and she grinned as she made her way into the dining room.

"Ugh, I don't know how you did it, but I've never felt better," Kalda giggled, sitting down at the table.

She eyed China, America, France, Britain, and Russia playing a card game, frowning.

"What are you guys playing?" Kalda wondered, feeling like they hadn't heard her the first time.

"Hearts," Britain replied, setting a card down on top of the table instead of looking at Kalda like he should have.

"It is fun card game," Russia grinned. "I win all bets."

"I swear, Russia cheats sometimes," America complained.

"How do you play?" Kalda questioned.

"I zhink zhat you are still a little young to play," France told her, "but whoever gets zhe most cards loses. You also don't want zhe Queen of Spades, well, unless you want to take all of zhe cards and have everyone else gain zhe points."

"Boring," Kalda groaned as she stood up to walk away.

"Well, I never said zhat you couldn't watch," France apologized as she walked by him. "I just said zhat you couldn't play."

"America and Russia already spoiled the end of the game for me," Kalda replied, looking at him, "so I might as well do something else."

"And...I win!" Britain cheered, standing up in triumph. "Ha! Take that, Russia! I'm far more superior than you in the old British game of Hearts!"

"On contrary," Russia grinned, showing Britain his cards, "I win."

Britain dropped his jaw, completely clueless as to how Russia had done it.

"Wha-but how-I can't-what?" Britain stuttered.

"Ha, you stutter like idiot," Russia laughed.

"See?" Kalda smirked at France.

"I give up," China groaned, putting his forehead on the tabletop.

"Is okay, China," Russia assured him. "Is not easy to beat me."

"Cheater," America accused of the Russian.

"If you're all done here," Kalda started in annoyance, "I think that I'm gonna' go practice my kicking skills for when we play football again. I think the last time we played, my kicking was a little off."

"Then we're coming with you," Britain told her. "I don't want you to go out by yourself, especially with the Axis following your trail now."

"Ugh," Kalda scoffed. "I'm not a baby, you know."

"Kalda," France warned, "he's just trying to look out for you."

"Yeah, Kalda dude," America agreed. "I almost lost my head for you."

"And I did as well," Britain firmly replied, "so I would like a little more respect from you, young lady."

Kalda's face flushed, and they could tell that she felt guilty.

"I can handle myself," she told them, walking away.

"Now where are you going?" Britain wondered.

"Does it matter?" Kalda asked.

"I don't like your tone right now," France said, standing up.

"I don't have to tell you where I'm going, okay?" Kalda snapped. "You're not the bosses of me!"

With that, she walked away and up the stairs.

They heard a door slam in the distance, and they could only guess that she had went into her room.

"I will talk to her," Russia stated, standing up.

"No, Russia," France softly declined. "I will. She's my niece, after all."

"I will talk to her," Russia repeated, walking up the stairs and up to her room.

He sat on the outside of her door, hoping that she would talk to him.

"Little Kalda?" he called.

"What do you want, Russia?" he heard Kalda say in irritation.

"Just want to talk," Russia calmly offered.

He heard silence at first, then the sound of her door unlocking.

Kalda gestured for him to come into her room, so he joined her on the bed.

"They just don't understand me sometimes," Kalda explained, hugging a pillow close to her chest. "I mean, it's not like I was going to be out in the open, anyway."

"Are just worried," Russia told her calmly. "All felt responsible for you other day. Was very scary."

"And I get that, it's just, well, I want to do things on my own," Kalda answered. "I don't want to worry about the Axis right now."

Russia nodded, understanding.

"Prussia and I are not best of friends, but he is not as scary as he looks," he answered. "Teutonic Knights were scarier when I was just small child."

"Hm, I remember reading about that in one of Britain's books," Kalda replied.

"War will be over soon," Russia promised her with a hug. "I know it."

Kalda hugged him back, and he could feel her calm down.

"Thanks, Russia," she said.

"You are welcome, little Kalda," Russia smiled, giving Kalda a kiss on the top of her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kalda stayed in her room for a while, feeling hungry and stupid for skipping breakfast and soon-to-be-lunch.

She decided to walk down to the kitchen and make something to eat, noticing that the five men were gone.

Great, Kalda thought sarcastically. Home alone. Yippee.

She sighed, just pouring a bowl of cereal since she wasn't that hungry.

"You should really eat somezhing better zhan zhat," France said from behind her. "You haven't eaten all morning."

Kalda turned to face him, seeing him leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen; his arms were crossed and a smirk was on his face, and Kalda wanted to scream.

Kalda just rolled her eyes, pushing the bowl away from her.

"Where's everyone else?" she asked, ignoring his suggestion.

"Zhey went out for a while," France answered, turning serious. "Zhey wanted me to come with zhem, but I refused."

"Liar," Kalda accused. "I can tell when you're lying."

France sighed softly, sitting down at the table.

He gestured to a spot in front of him, wanting Kalda to sit down as well.

Kalda ignored her hunger pains, sitting across from him.

"Is this going to be a substitute father talk?" she wondered flatly. "Or an uncle and niece talk?"

"I just wanted to talk with you like normal adults," France calmly admitted. "I zhink what happened zhis morning was partly our fault to begin with."

Kalda shook her head, still feeling guilty about that.

"No," she replied. "That was all me. I got out of hand, and I'm really sorry."

"We just wanted to help you understand zhat what happened zhe other day was not a game," France went on. "America and Britain almost got killed on your behalf, and my death was going to follow."

"I know," Kalda groaned, putting her chin on her forearms, "but I just couldn't have gone with them either. I don't even know how they found us, more or less how they know about me."

"All we can do now is protect you," France said with a small smile. "Zhat's all zhat matters."

Kalda nodded, agreeing with him.

"And I'll try to be a better kid," she grinned.

"You were right about one zhing, zhough," France replied.

"And what was that?" Kalda inquired curiously.

"Perhaps we were a bit harsh about zhe whole "Watching Over You" zhing," France answered, smiling as well. "You are growing up, and...perhaps giving you a little freedom wouldn't hurt."

"You're the best, you know that?" she told him with a grin.

France blushed a little, somehow becoming flustered.

"Zh-zhank you," he stuttered. "No one has ever told me zhat before."

"You're family," Kalda answered. "I love you with everything I have."

"And I love you," France replied with a grin as well.