A/N: We all know from fairy tales that not all fairies are particularly nice. So what if some of England's fairies got a hold of France? I can't imagine Scotland being too happy about it. Enjoy.

...

England smirked as he trudged back up the stairs from his cellar. This was going to teach that stupid frog to call him the most awful cook in the world. Wales eyed his brother warily as he shrugged off his cloak, fairy dust falling onto the carpet as he shook the fabric out,

"Do I really want to know what you've been doing down there?" he asked. England grinned at him,

"Depends on whether or not you think the frog needs to be taught a lesson or not." He replied easily. Wales sighed,

"He's been dissing your cooking again hasn't he?" it wasn't so much of a question as a resigned statement of the obvious. England sent his twin a short glare,

"And that is going to be the last time." He said shortly, putting the cloak away. Wales shook his head,

"So long as you know what you're doing Arthur, the fae are a tricky lot to work with." England gave his brother a somewhat evil looking grin,

"Of course I do Wales, don't worry, I'm not going to break him... permanently."

...

France hummed to himself as he pottered around his kitchen making himself some pastries. It had been a while since the French nation had spent some major time in here, and he was thoroughly enjoying himself. France paused as he put some chou pastry in the oven; something had been moving just at the very edge of his vision, but when he looked properly there was nothing there. France frowned, he wasn't feeling stressed and he most certainly wasn't tired. Shaking his head France returned his attention to his food mixer, fully intent on making more pastry to share with the other nations at the next meeting. Not two minutes later the blonde nation winced as he felt something tug at his hair. He glared around the kitchen looking for the culprit, fully expecting to see Pierre trying to make a nest in his hair again. Once again, nothing was there. Snorting a little France returned his attention to his baking. A gust of wind blew through the kitchen and the spatula France had been using clattered to the floor, the flour dusting the kitchen swirling as the wind died down.

...

Scotland was sitting with his favourite book in his room, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose when his mobile suddenly started blaring the remixed version of 'Oh Canada'. Scotland frowned as he looked at the clock on his bedside table and hesitantly picked his mobile up,

"Hullo Mata, whit're ye daein' calling sae early?" he greeted, taking his glasses off in worry. Canada sighed on the other end of the line,

"Hi Uncle Scotland, is Papa with you at all?" he asked. Scotland frowned in confusion this time,

"No laddie, he's no'." He replied, "Why, whit's he gone and done now, like?" Canada sounded slightly stressed,

"It's nothing he's done... it's just that I got a call from Amber. She was staying with Papa and he's just... vanished." Scotland sat up properly at that,

"Whit dae ye mean by tha'?" he asked slowly, not liking where this conversation was heading. Canada sighed again,

"Just what I said. Amber said that Papa had been making pastries in the kitchen while she was playing in her room. She heard something breaking in the kitchen and went to investigate and discovered that France wasn't there anymore." Scotland frowned even more at this,

"Are ye sure tha' France hasnae jus' nipped oot fer somethin' and Amber didnae hear him leavin'?" he asked, hoping that his suspicions were unfounded. Unseen by Scotland, Canada shook his head,

"No, the kitchen was still covered in flour and there was something in the oven. Even if Papa did leave to get something else, he'd never leave his baking unattended." Scotland sighed in irritation,

"Righ' call Amber back and tell her I'm on ma way o'er. I need tae make sure o' something'." He told his nephew. Canada breathed a quiet sigh of relief,

"I'm sorry to disturb you with this Uncle Scotland, but I'm getting quite worried myself." Scotland nodded,

"Don't worry aboot it laddie, I'm glad ye called me. Lord knows why Amber didnae ca' me first, right enough..." He grumbled. Canada chuckled tiredly,

"She actually called me to get your number, eh. I told her I'd call you for her and that she wasn't to leave the flat or answer the door or home phone just in case." Scotland smiled,

"Ta Mata, I'll keep ye updated if I find anythin'." He assured the Arctic nation. Canada stifled a yawn,

"Thanks Uncle Scotland, I'll talk to you later." He said. Scotland nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose,

"Talk tae ye later Mata, bye." Scotland sighed heavily as he hung up and flopped back onto his pillow. He had a sneaking suspicion as to what had happened, but he needed to check out France's kitchen before he could be completely certain. The Celtic nation groaned as Nessie poked her head up from the floor at the foot at the bed and cooed at him. Scotland glanced at the creature,

"Sorry lass, but I think ye'd better stay up here. While I'm sair Amber would be delighted tae see ye I need someone tae mind the hoose while I'm awa'." He looked up at the ceiling again, "'Sides, if ma intuition is richt, I dinnae need us gettin' attacked the minute we get there." The monster snorted and laid her head down on the floor again, clearly sulking. Scotland chuckled,

"Nae sense gauin' intae a mood wi' me missy." He told the creature, getting up and grabbing his coat, "I'll no' be long and I'll be sair tae bring the wean back here a'right?" Nessie didn't bother to acknowledge the Celtic nation as he left, letting the door slam shut behind him.

...

New Caledonia hugged her teddy bear close to her, watching the kitchen through the sitting room door warily. Her big brother had called her back and left a message stating that her Papa would be there shortly. The French Territory was terrified; while she normally lived in her own house, she was normally surrounded by her own people to help look after her. The Territory started as she heard the lock turn and cautiously poked her head out of the sitting room door to see who it was. Scotland grumbled as he shook off his coat, as much as he normally didn't mind rain, the sudden downpour was not helping his already agitated mood. Suddenly he felt something thud against him and he looked down to see his daughter clinging onto his waist,

"Papa!" she cried, "Je suis effrayé, maman est absente, où est il?" Scotland gingerly tugged the little girl's arms from around his waist so he could come down to her eye level,

"Amber, ce qui s'est produit?" he asked, placing his hands on the Territory's shoulders. New Caledonia shook her head,

"Je... Je ne sais pas. Je veux ma maman." She had started crying again. Scotland sighed as he gathered his daughter up. While she often claimed to be 'all grown up'; she was still just a little girl. The Celtic nation placed the French Territory on the sofa, switching to English as he did so,

"A'right Amber, you just sit there. I'm gauin' tae see whit like the kitchen is." He told her slowly. Amber's eyes went wide,

"N...no." she cried, shaking her head, "You will disappear too!" Scotland sighed heavily,

"No I won't." He told her, "I'm jus' goin' tae see whit's happened. I'll be right back, I promise." New Caledonia watched her father head into the kitchen reluctantly, gripping her bear tighter.

Scotland looked around the kitchen warily, there was flour everywhere and all the signs that France had been in the middle of mixing up more pastries to put into the oven. Scotland, finally noticing that the flour wasn't the usual off-white colour that it should be, wiped a finger along the counter and inspected it. He snorted as he dusted his hands off on his jeans; there was pixie dust everywhere, lying on top of the flour. Well, at least now he knew what had happened to the other nation. Scotland was about to whip out his phone to call his younger brother and give him a good earful when he heard something tinkling in the sitting room. The Scottish man paled, obviously there were still some of the little bastards floating around. The Celtic nation dashed out of the kitchen, summoning up a little magic as he did so. He got into the sitting room just in time to see New Caledonia reach out to catch the little ball of light. Snarling, Scotland let loose a spell and the pixie fell out of the air and onto the couch. New Caledonia looked at her father reproachfully and went to pick the little thing up...

"Amber, ne le touchez pas!" he snapped. The French Territory flinched and stared at Scotland with wide eyes. He had never spoken to her like that before. Scotland strode across the room, crouched down next to the sofa and glared at the pixie, who merely glared back, unable to do anything. Scotland snorted,

"Right, we can dae this the easy way or the hard way, it's up to you." He told the little creature, "I'm gauin' tae lift this little freezing spell, an' ye're gauin' tae tell me whaur ye took ma best pal, aye?" the pixie's glare didn't let up, but Scotland looked to his daughter,

"Amber, sweetheart, I'll need ye tae back off a bit." He told her gently, "I promise I'll no' hurt it." He assured her at the defiant look the Territory gave him. Amber crossed her arms huffily and reluctantly backed off, pouting as she watched her father turn back to the pixie. Scotland sighed; he hadn't had time to explain to his only child why he'd yelled at her. For now, however, he had more pressing matters to consider. Scotland quietly spoke the counter spell and quickly backed up as the pixie shot into the air, snarling. Scotland glowered at the creature,

"Right, now ye're free, would ye mind tellin' me whaur ye took France?" he asked. The pixie balled it's tiny fists and dived at the Celtic nation, snarling as it did so. Scotland sighed and merely stepped to the side, causing the tiny creature to miss. The pixie snarled again and began to use a spell. But before the pixie could even speak the second syllable, Scotland turned to it,

"You will cease your attack an' tell me what I need tae ken, as I bind ye tae yer name Ithowin!" he snapped. The pixie's magic faded the moment Scotland spoke its name, now bound to Scotland's will by the power he held over it. The pixie shook in anger,

"You are to use my Name against me?" it squeaked. Scotland glared at the creature again,

"Aye, I dare." He replied, "I'm no' nearly as nice as ma brothers when it comes tae bein' attacked. Especially when it involves the few I care aboot." He snarled, motioning to New Caledonia, who was watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. The pixie turned his attention to her as well,

"She was not within the remit of our orders." He said, "Though she will make a nice addition to the Court." He added, smirking. Scotland neatly stepped in front of his daughter,

"So long as I still live Ithowin, ye will harm her not!" he snapped. The pixie snorted, crossing its arms,

"As you wish." It sighed, floating back a little. Scotland watched the magical creature warily, he knew pixies could be incredibly tricky to work with, England was much better at dealing with their ways than he was; but it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter now. The pixie landed on the coffee table, "As for where the Frog is, my friends simply took him to the faerie court as ordered. I can assure you that he will come to no harm." Scotland glared at the pixie,

"Ye can swear tae that?" he growled. The pixie nodded,

"Yes, I can swear to it." It confirmed. Satisfied, Scotland nodded,

"Right, ye can leave. But mind whit I said aboot leavin' the wean alone." He warned. The pixie stood and bowed,

"I most certainly will." It replied, before turning to New Caledonia again, "A shame that such a pretty young girl is beyond the Court's reach, however." It leered. Scotland swatted at the pixie, causing it to take flight,

"Awa' wi' ye!" he snapped. Ithowin snorted and vanished, leaving nothing more than a layer of pixie dust over the coffee table as it did. Scotland returned his attention to his daughter,

"A'right Amber, looks like we'll be payin' yer Uncle a visit." He sighed. He wasn't looking forward to confronting his younger brother over this. Amber pouted,

"Font je doiven ? Angleterre est moyenne." She whined. Scotland chuckled,

"Sorry hen, but he's the only one that can help us get France back." He smiled a little as New Caledonia continued to pout childishly. She looked so much like France when she did that. "If ye're guid, I'll get ye some tablet ice cream once we're done." He said. New Caledonia's eyes lit up,

"You will?" she squealed. Scotland laughed, nodding,

Aye, but only if ye promise tae be a guid lass and no' annoy yer uncle England too much, aye?" The Territory considered this for a moment, then nodded,

"Ok." She grinned, picking up her teddy bear again and dashing off to look for her coat and shoes. Scotland chuckled as he followed after her to get his own coat,

"Works like a charm every time."