Britain had never been so furious before in his entire life.

It was one thing to be accused of doing bad things, but it was another thing to be called out on them by a rumor spread.

"ARGH!" Britain yelled, banging both of his fists on the table.

"What's wrong?" America asked as he dashed into the kitchen, his hand in one of Kalda's as he dragged her with him. "I heard yelling, and screaming, and more yelling, and-OH MY LADY LIBERTY, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?"

Britain sighed, handing America the newspaper.

"Whatever you're thinking, I suggest that you throw it out of the window," Britain threatened.

"It's really nozhing to be upset over," France tried to say. "We are in a time of war. Propaganda is normal and totally expected."

"The French lad is right," Scotland agreed. "At least don't fret over it, laddie."

"But Germany is targeting me!" Britain told them. "I don't even know why!"

"It says here that you've done...like...a hundred bombing raids on Berlin in...like...the past year," Kalda said as she took the newspaper into her own hands, betrayal in her voice.

"That's not true," Britain replied softly. "You know that I wouldn't do something like that."

"I don't know you well enough to determine that," Kalda answered. "For all I know, you could be taking over places behind my back."

"And what reason would I have for that?" Britain questioned, feeling hurt.

"The same reason why you're doing the bombing raids on Berlin," Kalda explained, handing America the newspaper before she walked up the stairs and into her room.

Britain sighed, putting his face in his hands.

"And now she's mad at me," he muttered, his voice muffled.

"She is not," America assured him. "She's just...confused."

"She is fine, da?" Russia asked, looking at America.

"I think so," America nodded. "Like I said, she's just confused."

"The girl has been in a rough spot, lately," China added.

"Not to mention we showed up," Wales continued. "She barely knows us."

"It's not because of you, and you know it," Britain assured his brothers. "She just...tends to overreact sometimes when things like this happen."

"She has a very rough home life," France explained in the short way.

"Aye, the lass has a broken look in her eyes," Northern Ireland nodded with understanding. "I'd know that look anywhere."

"Broken look?" Britain asked his brother.

"I'll explain it later," Northern Ireland replied. "For now, we need to tell the news about this "misunderstanding."

"But the raids we're doing are true," America pointed out.

"Ever hear of manipulation?" Scotland laughed.

"Zhere will be no manipulation of zhe news of any kind!" France scolded. "We want zhis War to end! Not to continue!"

"The screaming frog is right," Britain firmly agreed, ignoring France's defensive yelling of his nickname. "We need a better tactic."

"What if we make propaganda of them?" Russia suggested.

"Yeah!" America cheered. "We could spread rumors about them, too!"

"That would only make matters worse," China informed them. "We need to think about this differently."

"And logically," Wales added.

"Well, we can't just take matters into our own hands, either," Britain replied. "That is not right."

"We're tough!" Scotland answered. "Those laddies won't see us coming if we make a frontal attack!"

"And you're suggesting that we go into Germany, with all of us, against them, guns blazing?" Britain inquired, annoyed.

"That sounded better in my head," Scotland admitted awkwardly, looking at the floor.

"I actually think a frontal attack wouldn't be such a bad idea," Northern Ireland agreed.

Britain sighed, knowing that they were getting on different idea roads.

I want to compromise all of these ideas, but I don't know how, he thought to himself, becoming stressed out.

Suddenly, an idea came to his mind.

"I think I've got the perfect compromise," Britain said with a smile.

"And what's that?" America wondered.

Britain saw that the others were also intent on hearing his idea, so he got nervous.

"Well, it's not a very good one now that I think about it," he replied.

"Out with it, laddie," Scotland said, looking at his younger brother with a proud smile.

Britain smiled, knowing that at least someone believed in him.

"How about we just stay out of it?" he suggested in a rush, hoping that no one had heard him.

"ARE YOU INSANE?" the rest of the men yelled at Britain in unison.

Guess they did hear me, Britain sighed.

"Just hear me out," he calmly told them. "We already did a lot of bombing raids, that I'll admit to, so there's really no reason to fight them anymore."

"So, what?" France scoffed. "We just sit back and watch Germany destroy himself?"

"That doesn't seem fair," America agreed. "I mean, if I was destroying all of my citizens in death camps, I would want someone to come and snap me out of it, too."

"Not to mention my little brozher is allied with him!" France countered.

"You have great points," Britain started off, "but-"

"Should at least help Germany get rid of camps, da?" Russia asked, an innocent and childlike look in his violet eyes.

Britain sighed, at war with himself once again.

"I honestly have no idea anymore," he gave up, putting his head in his hands.

Britain suddenly noticed that Northern Ireland was not there, and he wondered when his older brother had decided to walk away from them.

Hmm, weird, he thought to himself.

"How about we just table this conversation for later, yes?" Britain suggested, and for the first time that evening, the other men agreed with that idea.

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

"Oi, lass," Northern Ireland said with a smile as he walked into Kalda's room and sat on the edge of her bed. "What are you reading, there?"

Kalda closed her book and looked into his green eyes to be polite, putting on a small smile for his sake.

"It was just something that I picked out of the library," Kalda answered, putting the book on her bedside table. "Nothing much."

The man took the book into his own hands, seeing the title.

"Sleeping Beauty," he read. "Ha, I loved this book when I was a wee lad."

"It was one Britain read to me the other night," Kalda answered, her smile softening. "It was actually quite sad."

"Aye, but it got better in the end," he winked.

Kalda chuckled a little, her smile growing into a grin.

"That's a beautiful laugh," he teased.

"Oh, please," Kalda scoffed. "I think that it sounds awful."

"Not to me," he replied softly.

"Why are you here?" Kalda blurted out, but she quickly apologized. "Oops, I'm sorry. It's just...we just met...and I don't know you that well, and I guess I just-"

"It's okay, lassie," Northern Ireland laughed. "I didn't mind the harsh tone. Not a lot of ladies are feisty nowadays."

Kalda rolled her eyes with a laugh.

"You're just like your brother," she giggled.

"I get that a lot, actually."

"Do you, now?"

"Aye."

"You sound like a pirate every time you say that."

The duo laughed again, and Kalda was surprised that Northern Ireland could make her laugh so easily.

"I guess that when I saw a sad look in your eyes downstairs," he replied, answering her earlier question, "I wanted to see if you were okay."

"I'll be fine," Kalda assured him. "I guess it's just a little hard being around a big nation with a big military fighting against and aside other big nations with big militaries."

"He was telling the truth when he said that he wasn't doing the bombing raids," Northern Ireland said.

Then, he smirked as he looked into Kalda's confused, brown eyes.

"You like the laddie, don't you?" he grinned.

"What?" Kalda scoffed. "I do not!"

"That's what they all say, lassie!" Northern Ireland laughed. "Come on, Arthur is pretty irresistible."

"He isn't to me," Kalda replied. "He's done...things."

"Like what?" the man inquired.

"Well, I've found him drunk," Kalda answered. "Twice."

"Not surprising," the man sighed. "My brother has made it a habit."

"Made what a habit?" Britain asked, walking into the room.

"Nothing!" the duo replied in unison.

Britain just rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"I'm sorry for what happened down there," he apologized. "I didn't want you to hear that."

"It's fine," Kalda told him. "As long as what you say is the absolute truth, that's all I could ever need."

"I would never try to pull revenge on your brother like that," Britain went on. "I hope you know that."

"I do," Kalda nodded. "If you're not the one doing it, that's all that matters to me."

"In other words, the lass trusts you," Northern Ireland told his brother.

"I know how to understand women!" Britain retorted, and Kalda laughed.

They're so alike, but so different as well, she thought in wonder.

"Anyway," Britain continued, ignoring the duo's laughing, "Scotland and Wales want you to come downstairs. I think that they are wanting to head out, so you should go and pack as well."

"I just need to finish up with the lass," Northern Ireland answered. "Then I'll go."

"I actually wanted to speak to her as well," Britain explained.

"He came first," Kalda told Britain. "Let him finish up. It won't take long."

Britain nodded and left the room.

"You're a broken soul, you know that?" Northern Ireland grinned, and Kalda hoped that he was teasing her.

"What do you mean?" she wondered.

"Stare real close in your mirror next time, lass," he answered. "You'll understand everything."

With that, he gave her another wink before heading to the door.

"And if you ever do decide that you like my little brother, keep a close eye on the laddie, all right?" Northern Ireland added. "He tends to get himself into a lot more trouble than he likes to admit."

Kalda nodded in agreement as he walked away.

This was astrange night, she thought to herself. A very strange night, indeed.

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

The propaganda had surprisingly worked; it had been exactly two months since the Axis had sent it out, and Britain hadn't attacked them in one of those months like he had in the past.

Now, the Axis were taking turns to sleep by the phone in case Kalda called for them to come and bring her home.

It was a cruel fantasy, but in times of war, sacrifices and unexpected allies had to be made.

"Has she called yet?" Veneziano asked as he ran into the living room.

It was Germany's turn to stand guard, and he was taking it very seriously.

The German shook his head and sighed in defeat.

"Nein," he replied. "Not even one ring."

Germany saw Veneziano's broken face, and he sighed as he sat beside him.

"My brother is so going to kill me," Veneziano groaned.

Germany pulled the Italian into a side-hug, wanting him to feel safe and to let him know that he had someone to talk with.

"I zhink zhat you vill be fine," Germany told him. "Zhere's still plenty of time for her to change her mind."

The Italian just nodded, closing his eyes.

Germany suddenly heard light snoring, and he realized that Veneziano had fallen asleep.

He fell asleep on me, but zhat's okay, Germany told himself. He's been zhrough a lot of zhings, lately. Maybe him skipping training for a vhile und catching up on rest is a better solution to zhis problem after all.

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

Russia was easily dodging pillows that were being thrown his way, everyone else doing the same.

"When I said to clean up up the house, this wasn't what I meant!" Britain yelled in frustration.

"But dude," America insisted as he held up a pillow, "pillow fight."

Britain rolled his eyes, picking up a pillow himself.

He threw it at America, the pillow hitting him square in the face.

"Ugh, that wasn't fair!"

"Isn't that the point of a pillow fight?"

"You're the worst!"

"Love you too, America."

Russia ignored their argument, joining China behind the couch.

"They still haven't found me," China quietly cheered.

"You are very good hider," Russia grinned.

"I don't know how you put up with these European nations," China sighed, hearing France join the argument between America and Britain.

"I like to listen to them argue," Russia replied. "Is very entertaining."

"I don't even know why I'm doing this!" Britain huffed, clearly getting tired.

China ran to attack the other three, and Russia ran to restrain him.

America tried to restrain Britain from attacking France, and France just cowered in fear.

Suddenly, the door opened to reveal Kalda.

She walked into the house just in time to see Britain attack France with a pillow, yelling, "KEEP YOUR DIRTY HANDS OFF OF ME, YOU PERVY WANKER!"

Kalda gasped and yelped a little, clearly scarred by the comment.

The five men went silent, blushing madly in embarrassment.

"A pillow fight?" Kalda yelled in anger. "Seriously? I leave the house for like...an hour, and I come back to this?"

She nodded her head at the men, and they could tell that she was not happy.

"Why couldn't I join?" Kalda whined, and the men gave her confused looks.

"You're...not mad?" America wondered.

"I was for like, two seconds, but then I realized how much fun pillow fights can be," Kalda grinned.

"Why were you out alone?" Britain scolded. "Remember what we talked about?"

"Uncle France promised me some freedom," Kalda answered, "and I wasn't completely alone."

"Why do you have five bags in your arms?" France asked. "Did you go shopping again?"

"I had to," Kalda replied. "I even brought a friend."

"I think that's the last of the bags, Kalda," Canada said quietly, walking into the house with three bags in his own arms.

"Mattie!" America laughed, tackling his brother to the floor.

"Ow," Canada mumbled. "Why do you always tackle me like that?"

"Because it's fun," America replied with a grin, making it obvious that he took pleasure in hurting his little brother.

"I'll take care of this," Kalda sighed, setting the bags down and tackling America to the floor now.

Instead of getting mad at Kalda, however, America hugged her instead.

"Why are you hugging me?" Kalda questioned awkwardly.

"Because Britain says that if you ever get tackled by a girl, you should hug her because you're supposed to be a gentleman," America replied. "If you don't like a guy, then you can tackle him."

"But I never included family into that lesson," Britain explained, "especially Canada who is your brother."

"But I like to tease him," America defended. "Besides, he thinks I'm cool. Right, Canada?"

"Uh-huh," Canada nodded, but the look in his eyes seemed different than his answer.

"Anyway," Kalda began as she grabbed the bags, "I brought some stuff home."

"What kind of stuff?" Russia asked with a grin.

"Well, I guess stuff that I thought you guys would like?" Kalda questioned with a laugh. "I made sure that I got enough for everyone to have their own things."

"And I helped watch her like you said, papa," Canada explained, looking at France and Britain.

The two nodded, seeming to be pleased with Canada.

"Well, I guess I better start cooking," Kalda grinned. "This whole thing won't cook itself."

"Here, let me help," Britain offered with a smile, but the men screamed.

"NO!" they yelled at him, and Kalda fell to the floor in laughter.

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

"Please, Kalda," Britain whined. "At least let one of us help you."

"No," Kalda replied, stirring up some batter for the dessert. "I can do this on my own."

Kalda had put up a barricade in the doorway that seperated the kitchen and the living room, locking all of the men out and not letting them step even one pinkie toe into the kitchen.

"But we feel bad for making you do zhis by yourself," France joined in with the dramatic whining. "At least let me help you!"

"Like I said, I can do this on my own," Kalda told them, looking over her shoulder. "I've been cooking for a long time. Besides, it helps me relax."

"If this is about the pillow fight earlier, I promise that we'll let you join next time, Kalda," Britain tried to persuade her.

"Can't you just let a lady do her work?" Kalda asked, tired of their whining and bickering.

"So, what are we supposed to do, then?" America sighed. "Just sit out here and wait for food?"

"Or, we could have a decent conversation without any bickering or whining for once," Kalda suggested coldly.

"NAH!" all six of them said in unison.

"Ugh!" Kalda groaned. "That's it! You are going outside where you will learn to play nice!"

"What?" China questioned.

"You heard me!" Kalda answered. "All of you! Outside, now! Go play your dumb soccer or whatever you call it or something, but be nice and mingle and become best friends! I'll call you back and into the house when I'm done."

"I feel like the "become best friends" thing was targeting us for some reason," America pointed out.

"LASCIA LA MIA PRESENZA, IDIOTI!" Kalda yelled at them, speaking in fluent Italian.

(A/N: Translation: "Leave my presence, you idiots!")

The scared looks on their faces showed Kalda that they seemed to have understood her sentence, so she just continued to glare at them.

"YES, LADY KALDA!" they agreed in scared unison. "WHATEVER YOU SAY! WE'LL BECOME BEST FRIENDS BY THE TIME YOU'RE DONE!"

With that, they all scurried out of the door like scared mice.

Kalda sighed as soon as she heard the front door slam shut and heard their faint shouting outside.

Idiots, Kalda thought to herself. All of them are pure idiots.

Kalda's Italian had always come naturally to her, the only downside was, however, that she didn't have an accent like her brothers, but she could speak it fluently.

Kalda put the batter into a cake pan, putting that in the oven.

She sighed, moving onto her next step.

As Kalda started making some appetizers to keep the men occupied after they came in for a quick snack, she drifted off into the dark thoughts of her mind.

She closed her eyes, knowing the recipe by heart; Kalda could literally make it with her eyes closed.

All of a sudden, when Kalda entered her dark thoughts, a noise from the door broke her peace.