"Hmm...yes, this should do the trick!"

England flipped through the crackling pages of his spell book, stirring a wooden spoon around various liquids in his cauldron as he did so. After stopping on the desired page and reading through the final bullets, he took a step back and admired his concoction. Bark from a maple tree, boysenberry juice, a vessel of pixie tears; oh yes, this was definitely going to be the potion that made his eyebrows thinner.

He clasped his hands together and took a deep breath. The spell came naturally to him, seeing that this definitely wasn't the first time that he attempted to obtain 'normal' brows.

In a confident, boisterous voice, he yelled, "Caterpillars, cat tail swamp, let these thick eyebrows begone!"

A thick smoke erupted from the cauldron, coating everything in his basement with chalky, white dust. England spluttered and wiped the debris from his face with the inside of his collared shirt. Peering into the pot, he was taken back by the sight of it being completely empty. Did the entire mixture turn into the ashes on the wall?

"Dammit!" he felt his still thick eyebrows and frowned. "Maybe it takes a bit of time for it to work?"

The open book on his podium was now illegible. "Buggers, what could I have done wrong this time?"

It was seven o'clock in the morning, and Sweden was already halfway down the hallway of the house he shared with the other four Nordic countries. Sharing the same space with them over the years had helped him learn their sleep schedules; Finland was always the first to head to his bedroom after dinner, unless it was his turn to clean up. The Swede would follow suit, as Norway, Iceland, and Denmark conversed in the living room until the early hours of the morning. Surprisingly, after the Finnish man would wake and help him prepare breakfast, the Dane would run into the kitchen with wild hair to get his share of coffee. Norway would make his way to the table, usually before nine, and crankily respond to the others until his first cup of caffeine was in his system. That left Iceland as last, who, like his brother, whined and hissed at the sun if he was up anytime before ten.

Sweden mentally went over this schedule as he passed by the other bedrooms. At the last door however, he thought he heard sniffling through the thin walls. He never intentionally tried to be nosy, but the noise coming from the Icelandic's room was twisting his stomach into knots. He knew how emotional the teenager could be, but what would make him cry this early in the morning?

His knuckles met the wooden door as he gave three silent knocks. The noise stopped abruptly, but was it really okay to barge in and ask what the problem was? He thought it over for a moment, and realized that Iceland didn't actually respond to him. Was it really that bad? Was he dead?! The Swedish man took a deep breath and turned the doorknob, bracing himself for the worst.

What he didn't expect was the Nordic's obnoxious puffin fast asleep beside a naked, red faced toddler on Iceland's bed. He stood by the door frame with mixed emotions running through him. Not knowing what to do next, he fumbled around in his plaid pockets and found a Lego. Instead of approaching the mysterious child, he chucked the toy brick at the bird, who woke up right away and shouted, "Hey!"

"Explain."

Mr. Puffin looked to his side and wrapped a wing around the toddler. "Icey was crying, so I came over here to comfort him."

Sweden lifted a brow. "Icey?"

"Yeah, the kid right here? Dunno what happened..."

Upon a better look, the personification noticed the child's violet eyes and shaggy blond hair, which were prominent features of the teen. He would have shit himself if it wasn't for the naive Finland popping into the room behind him.

"What are you doing in here, Swe? Is Iceland awAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Sweden covered the screaming man's mouth with his calloused hand. The shorter country licked his palm and broke free, sprinting towards the navy blue sheets.

"WHAT HAPPENED?"

The bird released a shushing sound from his beak. "Don't be so loud!"

Finland grabbed Iceland's tiny hands and put his head on the other side of the boy's lap. "Oh Iceland, how did this happen?"

For the first time during the ordeal, the child, who appeared to be much calmer than when Sweden found him, shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I dunno!"

The Finn turned himself around to face the other adult, drops swimming in his eyes. "He doesn't know!"

"Mhm."

"What are we going to do?!"

A rumble began in Sweden's stomach, reminding him that Denmark would be waking up soon. Instead of answering Finland, he rushed over to a drawer, pulled out a random tee shirt, and slid it over Iceland's body. He nudged his fellow European aside and crouched down to him.

"Are you hungry?"

The tot jumped back and stared at him wide-eyed, looking as if he was ready to burst into tears again.

"Swe, you're scaring him! Stop that!"

"Hm?" He lifted Iceland up and over his shoulder, not stopping to question what could be so terrifying. Then, he turned towards the door and carried him away from the shaking country and orbiting puffin above him to the kitchen.

It was three minutes before eight. Finland nervously bustled over the yellowing tiles, trying his hardest to keep his excitement hidden from the others. Denmark's reaction to a baby Iceland was, to say the least, shocking to the two men. They were used to the Dane's way of playing with Sealand and Ladonia, which involved Lego buildings being smashed into pieces and knees getting scraped, but instead of gaining self afflicted injuries, he sat across from the intrigued tyke and entertained him with tales from their viking days, many of which Sweden didn't recall being true. He bit his tongue through the 'beheading of sea dragons' as he scraped butter onto slices of toast for the final nation's arrival.

Anxiety filled the crowded room at the heavy thud of the Norwegian's footsteps.

"There was this one dragon named Svedka. She was HUGE!" Each approaching step made Denmark's throat close up, but he continued his story through it.

"And there I was...standing at the head of the ship might I add...and she was looking right at me!"

The chair next to him pulled out and tucked in with a creak.

"Denmark."

"Yeah Norge?"

"Shut up."

Sweden pushed the plate in front of Norway while Finland finished pouring his coffee, gently placing it next to his toast. The Norwegian kept his head down, still disheveled from breaking his slumber.

The three countries always waited for a full minute of silence to pass before attempting to talk to him. Even the slightest noise prior to him taking a sip would make him lash out, usually triggered by Denmark's unnecessary yawning.

Naturally, the younger Iceland wasn't aware of this. He grabbed his clay mug with both hands, raised it to a horrified Finland, and said,

"More milk, please!"

Norway cautiously angled his head up and stared at the child across from him. Eight hundred years had passed, but he would recognize that voice anywhere. He scanned Iceland's body, and proceeded to rise from his seat, half-tripping down the hall to the teen's room, only to find that his stubborn sibling wasn't fast asleep. He rushed back and pulled Iceland into a rib crushing hug, spinning them around in circles. The uncomfortable air shifted into something much worse. Denmark, Finland, and Sweden cast glances at each other as the child's giggling overtook any room for conversation. When was the last time they saw Norway so alive?

Their noses touched and he asked, "Do you know who I am, Icey?"

The country's arms wrapped around the adult's neck and he flashed a smile. "No!"

"I'm your big brother. Can you say, 'Big Brother'?"

"Big Brother?"

"Yes!" He felt a warm breath in the crook of his neck and knew that his younger brother was becoming comfortable in his grip.

"How was he this morning?" he inquired to no one in particular.

The trio realized that the question was directed to one of them, and Finland decided that he would have to be the one to give the report.

"Well um, he ate a little bit of toast and salmon, he had a little raw milk, um...Am I missing anything, Sweden?"

The mentioned man looked directly at the overjoyed country. Honesty was always the best policy, right? Probably.

"I heard him crying, so Finny and I got him."

Denmark snorted. "Sweden discovered Icey? Oh how the tables have turned, eh?"

With that, the nation was struck in the head by a closed fist. "Stupid Dane."

A phone vibrated.

The Swedish personification awkwardly shuffled around his pocket and flipped out his smartphone, making a face when the screen lit up.

"What's wrong, Swe?" Finland looked over his shoulder and summarized the message.

"Its from Prussia! There's an emergency meeting in Berlin. We're advised to get there as soon as we can."

"Isn't Germany the one who usually alerts us?" Norway asked.

"You're right! Maybe something's happened to him? I hope not, though!"

Sweden stood up at a leisurely speed. "We better get ready then. Don't wanna be late."

The Finn grabbed his shirt sleeve. "But...What will we do about Ice?"

Everyone turned their attention to the scrambling toddler.

"Nor-"

"We bring him with us, of course." He pointed to the staircase nearby. "I saved some of his clothing from the tenth century. They're in the basement, wrapped in the fur closest to that huge spider web. Remember? Its where we stored that broken battle ax. Not too fashionable, but it'll do for now."

"You've got to be kidding, Norge!"

"And Denmark is the one who I nominate to grab them."

"Fucking shit."