They had all received a letter; yet none of them noticed the letter being written slightly different. For all of them, this was just another meeting called together for some shady reason nobody knew and nobody ever would know. None of the countries really cared about the reason, either. They just had to come, disagree for a few hours and then dissappear, back to where they came from. They didn't even care to read the letter, just looked at the date and went packing.

Not reading it was their very first mistake. But it wasn't the last. It was néver the last.

Because if they'd read it, they would have noticed some slightly different ways of writing. For instance, the letter was written on a typewriter and not on a computer or laptop. Second of all, it was adressed to a very… differing range of countries. You had Norway, France, Germany, Russia and Great-Britain, but on the other hand, Australia and New-Zealand had gotten letter too. Even Chile, Peru, Argentine and America were included on the list. But there were no others. It was a very strange list of very eccentric countries who had absolutely nothing in common. Well, not all of them.

But none of them read the letter, so when they arrived at the big hall where, two weeks ago, the World Conference had taken place, they were surprised to see eachother, but more importantly; groups were formed directly after arrival. New-Zealand, Australia and America sat together, staring at Britain and discussing his odd behaviour – for they were all former colonies of the thick-eyebrowed nation – while the British Empire sat down with his tea, politely trying to converse with Germany and Norway, who were trying to ignore France's sexual innuendos during the conversation. Russia sat alone. The South-American countries were huddled together, rapidly speaking Spanish and arguing all over the place. But the one who had sent the letter, hadn't arrived yet.

After maybe half an hour, the German nation couldn't take it anymore and slammed his hand on the table. 'EVERYBODY QUIET!' He shouted in his heavy, German accent and as usual, the whole party broke of their conversation immediately. Even Alfred – who was trying to shove a hamburger down New-Zealand's throat – stopped shouting how heroic he was. 'Has anyone,' Ludwig spoke, rubbing against the side of his head as if he were annoyed, 'Anyone, seen the organisor of this meeting?' The silence deepened even more. Nobody said a word. It was true – noone had actually seen the one who called all of them here.

'Question! The hero has a question!' America shouted, breaking the awkward silence that had filled the room. He'd jumped out of his chair, holding his ever-present hamburger in the air. 'What is it, Alfred?' Arthur asked, seemingly annoyed by the sound of his voice alone. 'Who called us here? I mean, heroic as I am, I didn't have the time to read the letter – had to save the world and stuff. Anyone who did?' Even Germany shook his head, even though he usually read the post. It just didn't seem important at the time he'd gotten the letter. Strange.

Chaos returned to the room, with countries shouting at each other, making more noise than a kindergarten on an early Monday-morning. Australia and New-Zealand started asking each other questions, America had decided to argue with Russia, England and France were shouting at each other while Germany tried to keep them from fighting, Chile and Peru were already hitting each other and everyone around them – including Argentine, who had done nothing wrong- while Norway just sat there. He wondered if he'd been the only one who noticed the sudden chill in the air, as if the windows had opened when the chaos had begun. At the moment he decided he'd imagined it, the others froze in their actions, staring at the head of the table. The Norse man followed their eyes and his usually emotionless face was painted with surprise.

At the head of the table stood a young girl – or a young woman, for she looked like seventeen and you couldn't really call that a girl anymore. Her long, white hair danced on a non-existing gust of wind, while her eyes – ice blue, like the sky on a clear day – were fixed on a point on the wall. When she noticed that her presence had been sensed, she smiled and glanced at every country for a while. 'Please,' she smiled, though her eyes didn't smile with her mouth, 'Sit down.'

'Who are you?' Alfred protested, fearless and stupid as ever, 'And what are you doing here?' The girl merely smiled again, fixing her ice blue orbs on the face of the United States of America. 'I'm obviously the one who called you here, Alfred. My name is Nieva.' Her voice was like snow being crushed, soft and delicate, yet it sent a shiver down their spines. 'Nieva,' Argentine echooed. 'Isn't that Spanish for snow?' The girl nodded, almost grinned. 'Why yes, it is. But I'm better known under my global name.' Francis decided to ask the obvious question. 'Well, mon cherié, I do not know a Nieva. What is your global name?'

The girl sat down, crossed her legs and straightened her back. 'My name,' she answered, 'Is Antarctica.'