((I'm not dead. I am just having a huge writer's block currently. I apologize and I hope this next story will be good enough))

"Iggy! Iggy!"

Alfred ran through the field with a bouquet of wild flowers in his hand. Matthew soon followed with his own handful. They were still such small nations. Often looking up to their European elders for help and guidance. Specifically Francis and Arthur.

But soon after the children were discovered, huge battles broke out in North America. Little Alfred was confused and scared, staying close to Matthew's side. The countries were currently in the midst of the seven years war. Also known as the last Silesian war for most of the European nations.

The child nations were planning on giving their "parents", so to speak, flowers and presents to make them feel better during the war. Neither of them wanted to pick sides.

"Alfie, what if they're bloody and dirty again," Matthew whimpered, "It was scary."

America turned to face his brother and grabbed ahold of his hand.

"They'll be fine. If they were fighting on my land, I would know about it. Now come on!"

The nations ran through the meadow and the woods. France and England were supposedly talking out politics nearby in a cabin. After what seemed like hours of searching to the children, they finally reached a small log house almost camouflaged with the woods surrounding it.

Alfred tightened his grip on his flowers and gleefully ran to the door. Poor Matthew still being dragged behind him.

They got to the door and Alfred landed three hard knocks. And they waited. Nothing came from inside the cottage, it seemed. All that could be heard was the birds and animals talking around them.

"What if they aren't here," The small Canadian asked.

Alfred's smile and happiness started to fade. Could they have left without seeing them? Matthew circled around the cabin but all the windows were shut tight. After a few minutes of sitting outside the cabin, they decided to stand back up and walk back out.

Within a couple steps away from the house, a ragged moan filled the air. The brothers looked at each other and back to the house.

"F-Francis!"

America lifted an eyebrow, "Was that England?"

More moans, louder by the second, poured out through the cabin walls. Canada gripped tight onto his brother's shirt. The forest suddenly sounding of banging furniture and throaty screams.

"Alfie, what's happening? They sound like they're in pain."

At this point there was only one logical way to get inside. Alfred stepped back and threw a giant kick at the door. It flew off its hinges and fell onto the dirt floor. Shocked gasps and French curses were breathed inside the cabin. The brothers carefully looked inside, scared to see if their parents were fighting again.

England was jumping off a table that he was obviously laying down on. Francis grabbed his coat and covered his body with it.

Francis spoke first, "Matthieu, what are you and your brother doing so far out here?"

The brothers walked inside watching the older nations sloppily pulling clothing back on.

"Papa, we missed you and we were going to give you these flowers to make you happy again... Were you guys fighting?"

"And why weren't you wearing pants," Alfred questioned.

The Brit's face was brightened red. He was trying hard to keep his curses inside. Francis, on the other hand, burst out in satisfied laughter.

"Angleterre, I believe we have a lot of explaining to do."