Had it been just a degree colder in the room, Blanchette would have sworn she had been dumped outside in the snow. She turned her sleepy eyes to the fireplace that should have still been glowing faintly at this hour, only to find it stone cold and barren. She wrapped the fur blanket around herself a bit tighter. She would need at least two logs to last the rest of the night. Should she go see Ivan or Liet to fix this little inconvenience?

The safer bet was Liet. The kind nation would help her in a situation like this with a smile on his face and a cheery disposition, despite the late hour. Ivan, however, was a different story. He was...unpredictable at any time during his slumber. When she was younger she had gone to Russia in the night because she was thirsty, and he had nearly broken her wrist. The next morning he could remember nothing.

Logically, it made no sense that Blanchette's feet led her right to Ivan's room. Then again she wasn't a logical person. Ivan had taught her to trust her instincts, and if they led her to him, then that was good enough for her. Still, something in her chest tugged at her, both pulling her towards Ivan and trying to push her away.

The moonlight lit Blanchette's way as she pattered down the hall in her slippers, and illuminated her almost albino skin, giving it a silvery glow. She padded her why silently to the door she knew Ivan was sleeping behind.

She pushed the door lightly, creating a crack just large enough for her to see through clearly. The dully burning fire brought promises of warmth to her cold skin. She was suddenly reminded of the fact that like most men, Ivan slept naked. What was the point of putting on pyjamas then? She wondered, slightly irked. Thankfully his blanket covered the part that many of the other nations referred to as Ivan The Terrible. She pushed the door open and moved silently to Ivan's side, stretching out her hand to touch one of his bare shoulders.

"Da lyubov' moya?"

He asked in his native tongue, knowing full well that his words in English would come out as nothing more than garbled nonsense.

"Ivan, I'm cold, Latvia must have forgotten to put some fire wood in my room. Can you give me the keys to the basement so I can get some please?"

The semi sleeping giant responded by tossing the blanket off to the opposite side of the bed, and outstretching his arm. Taken off guard, Blanchette covered her face with her hands, trying to erase the mental image of Ivan naked. After a moment he spoke again.

"I'm vaiting, Marushka."

Taking the hint, she sat down on the bed with her back to Russia, still covering her face. The blush from earlier was apparent, and Russia thought it adorable, even if he could only catch the trailing end of that pinkish hue that disappeared as it reached her ear.

"You're not going to get varm by joost sitting zere. Come closer."

Russia extended his arm and pulled Blanchette to his side, draping the blanket over them both. He shifted to his side and curled his immense body around her. She tensed, fearing what she would feel, but strangely enough the sense of security was the most prominent one. The feeling of Ivan's fingers intertwining with her own and the sound of his steady heart beat was strangely soothing. He shifted once more, casually wrapping his other arm around her and taking hold of her hips. Of all the places he could have put his arm, he picks there, Blanchette thought as she struggled with her emotions. Though one thing was certain in her mind: in her little challenge, Ivan was suspect number one.

"Goodnight, Ivan."

"Goodnight, Marushka."

Ivan said lowly, a grin spreading across his face. His plan was a complete success, and although this had merely been a test run. He now knew that if she was cold, she would come to him. Her breathing became slightly more audible, signalling to him that she was in a light sleep. He breathed in her scent, and chuckled. Sunflowers. She smelt of sunflowers.

It was still dark when Blanchette woke up. The fire had burned itself out but Blanchette was nice and warm under the thick blankets beside Ivan. Who knew that a man representing such an awfully cold country could be so hot? Perhaps using the word 'hot' was a bad idea since it got her thinking about Russia's well-muscled body and immediately set her blushing red like a strawberry. Mmmm, strawberries. Her tummy rumbled as and her innards wrung themselves in hunger. Why had she not eaten before bed? Stew was never filling enough for her! Delicately she lifted Russia's heavy arm from her side and placed it down lightly on the bed.

Slipping her legs off the bed, she fumbled through the dark for her slippers and a sweater. She located her fuzzy lilac-coloured bunny slippers but forgot that she had left her sweater in her room. Her eyes adjusted to the dark and she spotted Russia's huge coat hanging on a peg. Ivan wouldn't notice it was missing if he was asleep. Besides, she would only be gone a few minutes, and she was really hungry and wouldn't be able to go back to sleep before eating something. The house was cold and the kitchen was on the first floor, surely Ivan wouldn't want her to freeze before she got there.

She slipped her arms through the gigantic sleeves which fully covered her hands. The bottom hem of the coat almost touched the ground. In it, Blanchette felt rather small and vulnerable, but she was comforted by the fact that this huge man was around to protect her. She knew that without Russia's, and Canada's, protection, some other more destructive country would have taken over the Arctic with no knowledge on how to preserve her delicate ecosystem. Breathing in his distinct scent, she padded out of the room without a sound.

She moved deftly through the halls and down the stairs until she reached the kitchen. The sound of life in the otherwise silent house reached her ears before she had even set one foot into the room. Blanchette pressed her back against the wall beside the currently motionless swinging door. She pushed it open slightly and peered inside. It was too dark to decipher any features but there definitely was a shadowy figure moving about the kitchen. By the way the figure seemed to know where everything that he wanted was, Blanchette knew that it could only be one of the Baltics who knew Russia's house better than anyone (besides Ivan). She smiled a wicked smile and snuck up behind the form as it searched the lightless fridge for something. The generator must be dead.

"Boo!"

Blanchette giggled as the man jumped, nearly dropping the milk carton in his hand. He turned around and by his mid-length brown hair and wide emerald eyes, Blanchette recognized him as Lithuania. He looked relieved to find out that it was just Blanchette but his features changed to reflect surprise, probably because she was wearing Russia's coat. No one but Russia wore Russia's coat. He wouldn't even let any of the Baltics wash it, preferring to do his own laundry.

So the sight of the pale girl wearing it so loosely was rare indeed.

"Whatchya doin', Liet?"

She seemed so chipper at two in the morning…

"I…I just got a little hungry and decided to have a bowl of cereal."

"What a coincidence! I'm hungry too."

Her amethyst coloured eyes glittered with mirth.

"Would you like me to make you something, Miss Arctic?"

"No, I'll just have some of your cereal, as long as you don't mind sharing." She said, walking over to the cupboard and opening it. "And don't call me 'Miss Arctic'. It's just Blanchette, alright?"

Though she'd said it as a question, Lithuania knew he wasn't meant to answer.

"Here, let me do it for you."

Their hands reached up and grabbed the bowl at the same time, fingers brushing. They both blushed but neither could tell in the dark. Liet let go; a servant didn't interfere with the decisions of his highers after all.

The two made their own bowls of cereal and sat down perpendicularly to each other at the corner of the table. There they munched in silence and in darkness, every so often the clinking of spoon against bowl ringing clear.

Secretly, Liet had a crush on Arctic. He knew this since the first time he saw her. Latvia, Estonia, and himself had been standing in a neat line in the foyer ready to wait upon their master. They hadn't been prepared for him to walk through the front door carrying a naked girl (who looked far too young for him) wrapped up in his coat. Her violet eyes drifted between being half-open and fully closed. Despite the freezing cold of the tempest outside, neither shivered.

After that there had been much rushing around for the three Baltic nations. They had run to and fro from different rooms until Lithuania finally found himself preparing a guest room that would become Blanchette's. It was just a few rooms away from Russia's. After placing fresh sheets on the bed, Liet was just opening the massive velvet curtains depicting beings from Russian folklore (the Firebird was his favourite) when Ivan walked in with the semi-conscious girl, placing her down lightly on the bed.

"Liet, close ze cur-"

Russia stopped midsentence as the girl, eyes wide, scrambled off the bed to the window, standing beside Lithuania. She was simply staring out at the snow field. Liet noticed her features relax, as if the snow gave her comfort. Lithuania on the other hand had grown quite nervous, trying very hard (with little success) to wipe the image of the naked girl from his mind. The coat had fallen off while she had been struggling to get up off the bed.

Lithuania glanced back at Ivan and from the single nod of his head (wait, had he been smiling?), Liet took it as a sign to open the curtains fully. Luckily, Russia came over and draped his oversized coat around her shoulders, wrapping her up as best he could. Liet concentrated on lowering his semi-erect penis.

"Ze snow ees comforting, da?"

She nodded, and smiled. Lithuania felt as if his spirit was soaring though his heart knocked against his ribs, struggling to be free. He wanted to kiss those smiling lips. But the thought of Russia and what he would do to him quickly sent his mood crushing into the floor.

Getting the feeling that he was supposed to leave, Liet apprehensively exited the room as Russia led the sleepy looking girl to the bed. He waited outside the room patiently. When Russia emerged seconds later, closing the door soundlessly, Liet, suddenly feeling brave, promptly asked the retreating Russian.

"Sir, what shall we call the young miss?"

He paused for a moment, never once turning around.

"You and your brothers shall refer to her as Miss Arctic."

It wasn't until later when he was around to hear Ivan and the girl talking that he learned that her human name was Blanchette.

"Coucou, Liet? You still in here?"

Liet was disturbed from his memories by a fist lightly knocking on his forehead.

"Y-yes, Printsessa?"

Her smile broadened at the term.

"I asked you what your name was. I've been here this whole time but it feels like I've never really gotten to know you, or your brothers."

When you're a servant, you have no name. You're just 'servant' or 'you.' Yet this girl who had every right to beat him if he even breathed wrong was asking to know his name. She was far too young and innocent for this world.

"Toris. Toris Lorinaitis."

Still smiling, she stuck out her hand.

"Blanchette Braginsky-Williams. A pleasure to meet you, sir."

Tentatively, Liet took her hand and shook it. Her skin was so soft, unmarked by wars and tragedy. His self-control evaporated after that.

Their hands let go at the same time but after that, Blanchette lost all track of what was happening. Passionate lips had been placed against her own unprepared ones. The next thing she knew she was sitting on the table with her legs wrapped around Lithuania's waist, returning his fervent kisses. Suspect number 2: Lithuania.

Wait, Lithuania? She had never thought about him this way, though he was kind of cute, in a sad puppy dog way. The way he has handling her now was definitely enough to change her mind, however. Not rough, just…powerful. He was in control; the fire smouldering in his emerald eyes told her so. Blanchette, usually very independent and in charge, could deal with being submissive for one night, especially if it meant having this Liet around a little longer.

She opened her mouth a bit more, which gave Liet the perfect opportunity to start Frenching her. It was nothing like making out with human boys at parties, that much was certain. Of course, Canada didn't know how she snuck out some weekends, out the window, down the tree, and off through the maze of streets. She wasn't the perfect little angel everyone thought she was, but she had to admit she was a little scared right then. Blanche had never been with anyone like this so…intensively.

Toris felt like his old self again, when he was an unbeatable nation and could easily handle that brat Prussia. That had been centuries ago, before Russia had made him a slave. But tonight he was Lietuva.

Blanchette slid out of the coat and let the fabric pool around her. The cold no longer bothered her and she wanted, needed to get closer to Liet. The intense heat he radiated would have been enough to keep her warm in a blizzard. Her fingers reached up under his shirt, caressing every inch of skin she touched. She hadn't realised before that her hands had been shaking. Suddenly, her fingertips slid over a ridge. Curious, she felt for it and when she found it, she followed the line up until the rest of her fingers were touching similar ridges. Some were thin, others wide, a few were bumpy though most of the ridges were smooth. She traced the lines on his back, it seemed like there were so many. There were even a few lines that dipped into his skin rather than being raised. Old battle scars? Blanche knew that Lithuania had once been a fierce warrior and that all warriors must suffer defeat, but the scars that laced across his back seemed too extreme to have been received in battle.

"Toris…your back…"

As her lips were pried from his, Liet was given time to think since he had begun to act on impulse. He couldn't tell Blanchette that Russia was at fault for the scars, the decades of torture he endured while under Russia's 'care'. Liet suddenly felt rather embarrassed at having them; telling her would almost be like admitting he was weak. It would also be a bit of a turn off. Thinking about the scars caused long buried memories to resurface, all of them containing Ivan doing something horribly painful to him. If Russia caught them like this, what new scars would he have by the end of the week?

But his mind and body weren't clicking. He continued his assault on her lips and slowly began to pull down her pyjama pants, revealing cute little pink panties beneath.

Her brow furrowed. Maybe this was a bit too un-Lithuania like for her to handle. Her heart began to panic but her mind remained quite calm thanks to hours of intense training for stressful situations. She placed her hands on Lithuania's chest and pushed him back without trying to seem rough.

This made Liet snap out of it quite quickly. Oh God, he almost…almost…What was wrong with him?

Blanchette kept her face and eyes even, though she couldn't say the same about her voice. "I…I'm sorry Toris but…You know, it's late and I'm still tired. Maybe it's best if we went back to bed."

Liet shivered pleasantly when she said his name. Yes, they should go back to bed, back to his bed…No, no that won't do. He doubted he would be able to stop a second time, no matter how hard Blanchette tried to shove him off. And if Russia found out…He shivered again, but from ice cold fear. He moved away from her, looking at the floor, anywhere but those tempting amethyst eyes.

"You're right. I'm sorry, I…stepped out of line."

Blanche could see the fear hidden in his eyes, even in the limited light and averted as they were. She didn't fully understand, but it was probably because, well, he was Russia's servant and she was his daughter. And Ivan was very protective of her. Blanchette would probably be spared Russia's wrath, but Lithuania was a different story. She sighed and stood, wrapping the coat around herself once again.

"Do you want me to walk you to your room, Miss Arctic?"

"Blanchette, just Blanchette. And no, I'll be fine. But, thank you."

She stood on tip toes and gave him a tiny peck on the lips, smiling up at him before turning suddenly and leaving without a glance back. She felt like all her emotions had been dumped into a tornado. She was sad that Liet could get in trouble because of her, disappointed that they couldn't go farther, still afraid for if they did, happy to have had this moment with him, and on top of this her heart wouldn't stop pounding and trying to pull her back to him. She ran up the stairs, confused.

Liet was frozen in place for a few moments after the quick kiss. When the spell broke, he collected their dishes and placed them in the sink, cleaning up a bit before heading back to bed, his feelings similarly tangled up in his heart.

Little did either of the two suspect that Russia had been watching the later parts of their time together. He woke up after sensing Blanchette's disappearance and the fact that his coat was gone made him worry; it was his favourite after all. And so Ivan had made his way silently through the house, only to find Blanchette and Lithuania making out on the kitchen table. Luckily for Lithuania, they had stopped before going too far. But there would still be repercussions for the Baltic nation in the morning. Russia smiled gleefully while heading up the stairs, thinking of all the different ways he could punish Liet for his intrusion on Russian property.

"Canada?"

Prussia called into the empty storage closet. Well, empty of any Canadians though it was filled with a sufficient amount of junk (Canada was a bit of a packrat). It was the fifth room, if you could call it that, which he had checked. He closed the door.

"Oh Canada~, my liddle lof bug, vhere are you?"

After a few more minutes of fruitless searching, Gilbert resolved that Matthew was neither upstairs nor on the ground floor. He couldn't be outside because his coat was still hanging up in the closet, his thick winter boots neatly placed on the mat. There was only one other place he could be.

Gilbert opened the door to the basement and walked down the creaking flight of steps. Once his boots touched the cement floor, he knew exactly in which room Matt was in. Canada only ever came down into the basement for a few specific reasons. Prussia crossed the main room, a sort of second living room, and opened the door to the first room on the right of the hallway.

Sure enough, there was Matthew, sitting on the black couch with huge headphones covering his ears, oblivious to the unmoving eyes of various Canadian actors and musicians scattered about the walls plastered with posters. Whatever colour the room had been before its makeover, Prussia would never know, and he doubted Canada remembered. Even the ceiling had been painted to resemble the blue prairie sky (complete with clouds) and the concrete floor had been (mostly) covered by a paisley carpet from the late 60s, which showed the tell-tale signs of decades worth of use through burn marks and food stains.

The room was a symbol of both escape and torment for the Canadian.

Knocking a few empty beer bottles that were lying carelessly on the floor out of his way, Prussia moved to the couch and sat down beside his beloved Matthew. He could tell by the forlorn expression on Canada's face that the nation was neither drunk nor high, though a bag of weed was sitting on the table just out of reach. It usually took a lot to bring a nation down with alcohol and drugs, far above the fatal doses of humans. Whatever had brought Matthew down to this state was still chewing at him. Prussia lifted the nearest earpiece away from Canada's ear, the sound of the deep, warbling bass beats of dubstep spilling forth, and whispered just loudly enough to be heard over the music.

"Tag, you're it."

The music stopped after Matthew hit the pause button on his iPod, so Gilbert gently grabbed the headphones from both sides and positioned them around the blonde's neck.

"Gil, why am I such a failure?

They had only landed back in Canada an hour ago. Prussia had thought it best if they went home after Russia had taken Blanchette. Matt had still been teetering on the edge of hysterics. The few sips of espresso had calmed him down a bit luckily, but he still needed to feel the security that came with being in your home land. France had been kind enough to loan them a private jet.

By now the depression had sunk in, and Gilbert was glad that they had only needed a few groceries, returning fast enough to keep his lover from turning down a road he'd been on many times before Gilbert had come crashing into his life.

Prussia shifted the younger nation so Matt was leaning against his chest, keeping his arms wrapped around the Canadian.

"You are no failure, Maddie."

Matthew wanted to cry but found he was out of tears. Not a failure? He couldn't even stand up for his daughter in front of Russia, let alone protect her from him. What bothered him even more was how willingly she had gone with Ivan, like she was happier to be spending time with him. This allowed room for only one explanation in Canada's mind: he was a failed parent, and because of this his daughter had abandoned him.

Then again, Russia was a difficult person to stand up to no matter who you were. He emanated this air of intimidation and every nation knew that he would act on his threats without hesitation. Perhaps that was why Blanchette had left so eagerly. She felt, like the rest of them, that she had no choice but to do as Ivan said.

Matthew would be damned if he allowed his baby girl to live in fear like that.

"Gil, what am I going to do?"

That was a hard question to answer. For a nation, there were few options available at a time like this. It was clear that Russia intended to claim all of the Arctic for himself. Matthew figured that Ivan's desire to 'make people one with Mother Russia' stemmed from a deep, psychological trauma after extended periods of isolation and loneliness. Prussia just thought he was a greedy son of a bitch and a sadistic psychopath. Either way, Russia was quite powerful and tended to get what he wanted.

On the other hand, Canada, though doing well economically even with all the military expenditures, didn't quite match Russia's military power and lacked the population numbers to summon a massive army. Sure he had friends in high places, America was his brother and (annoying) neighbour after all, but both Russia and Canada had made an agreement not to draw in allies. If anyone else was going to fight, they would just be another player in the ring, ally or not.

So for now it was just power-hungry Russia versus meek, little Canada. Ivan had already made his first move and now it was Matt's turn.

There really weren't that many choices though. He could stand down and let Ivan take away his little girl, preserving peace at the cost of splitting his heart in two. Or he could fight and win (unlikely) or lose (very likely). Winning meant Ivan would never again be able to get his paws on her. Losing seemed to pose too great a risk; not only could he lose the Arctic entirely but he could lose his life. It didn't seem too unrealistic that Russia would finish him off and claim his land.

Canada sighed. He had come down to the basement to get away from these thoughts, not fuel them. Prussia just kept his mouth closed. Matt already knew what he would have to do when the time came.

"I guess for now, we'll wait a bit longer. Russia knows where the line is drawn and he won't cross it yet, it's still too early for that." Matthew paused. "I suppose you aren't going to let me go back to enjoying 'me' time?"

"Negatif."

"Hmmm, get the handcuffs from the drawer upstairs. I need to get my mind off of…other things."

Gilbert kissed the top of Matthew's head and bounced upstairs happily, returning not even fifteen seconds later.

For the short time his lover was gone, Matt made a silent promise to himself, cold fire steeling his resolve. The next time they met, Russia, and their fellow nations, would no longer see him as "meek, little Matthew" but "strong, proud Canada." It was time to show the world he was not a nation to be fucked with.

Damn that minx. Prussia's hands were cuffed to the top horizontal bar of the head board. He had been positioned in such a way that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't lean down any further to kiss those lips smirking just centimetres from his own. His fingers struggled to grasp Matthew's golden locks but to no avail. Prussia couldn't even thrust into those seemingly delicate piano fingers that teased his lubed up cock since the blonde's other hand was firmly holding onto his hip. He hadn't anticipated that though he was still on top ("no one tops de awesome Prussia"), it was he that was the one being tortured. And oh sweet torture it was. Gilbert gave an uncharacteristic whine as more precum spilled forth.

Matthew's smirk twisted into a feral grin. He loved seeing Gilbert like this. Matt didn't like to admit it but he could be quite sadistic at times. It wasn't rare that during the off-chance he was dominant Prussia came out of it bleeding somewhere, somehow. He never planned for it to happen, it just kind of did. Besides, he would always apologise to Gil the next morning with the best breakfast he could muster.

So he didn't feel so bad when he bit into Prussia's chest, the area already beginning to bruise to dark purple with teeth marks that would stay there for days.

Gilbert grunted and shuddered as Matthew slowly licked the wound. He wasn't normally masochistic but after being with Russia for so long…well, things change. If it had been anyone else besides his Mattie, he probably would have had his fingers wrapped around their neck by now. But it was Matt, and if it was making him feel better, then Gil wouldn't say anything. Plus, Matthew was pretty hot when he looked at him like that, as if he were a piece of meat…

Another bite and Prussia couldn't help but moan as Canada giggled. French toast. Tomorrow he would make French toast especially for the albino.

"Too much, love?"

Prussia could only shake his head. A lie since if Canada kept doing what he was doing, he knew he would be spent within the next few minutes.

Perhaps Matthew had sensed this as Prussia suddenly felt himself pressed against the Canadian's already stretched hole, the hand that had been restraining his hip gone though two hands now rested on his back. Gilbert took this as a green light and thrust himself inside slowly. The heat was instantaneous and his body shouted at him to move again, but his mind told him to wait until the Canadian was ready.

The pain and discomfort Matthew was feeling reminded him how long it had been since Prussia and he had done anything like this, too long apparently. On the plus side, it didn't take him as long to adjust as he thought it would.

"Gilbert…" Matt had half-moaned his name, desire evidently expressed in those two syllables. Prussia obliged by slowly moving in and out. He knew Matthew well enough that it only took him three thrusts to find that special bundle of nerves. Canada screamed in pleasure.

As Prussia intensified the force and speed of his thrusts, so did Matthew's moans and cries of "Mon Dieu" or "Yes!" or "Gil…" and other generally unintelligible sounds that were no less arousing than anything else he said. Hell, he could probably say something completely unrelated like "you know, a cat sleeps for about eighteen hours everyday" and Prussia would still find it sexy. It was hard to say no to a voice like Canada's.

Each thrust also caused Canada's nails to dig further into Prussia's back, though the pain wasn't registering with Gilbert. For Matthew, it didn't take long before the pleasure was so intense, his nails had started slipping down the Prussian's back, tearing up skin as they did. Canada made a mental note of making sausages along with the bacon as pressure built up in his vital regions. He needed release and he needed it now. Keeping one hand still on Gilbert's back, Matthew began to pump his cock in unison with his lover's thrusts.

Gilbert tugged at the restraints fiercer than before. He wanted so desperately to touch Matthew's skin, to feel him shiver with bliss under his fingertips. When he noticed Matt reach for his manhood he had wanted nothing more than to do it for him. This was supposed to be Canada's time to relax not do all the work (though Prussia was doing most of the work already). Gil tried to pull free but the handcuffs wouldn't give, bruising the already tender wrists. Fuck, were these things made of titanium?

Looking down into his love's face, Gilbert saw nothing but a visage of pure ecstasy. His curly blond hair was matted with sweat, deep blue eyes the colour of the North Atlantic were squeezed shut, lips slightly parted…Frig, he was so close to kissing those lips and yet so far…

Prussia hadn't noticed that he had increased the speed of his thrusting, causing Canada to cry out "Gilbert!" as he came all over both their stomachs. Prussia came just a second later as that ring of muscle tightened around his member, likewise gasping satisfyingly "Maddhew…"

They rode out their orgasms before Prussia collapsed awkwardly on Canada, hands still bound. Pain was starting to come back to him.

"Nng, Maddie, my wrists…"

"Oh right…" Panting, Canada grasped for the key on the drawer and unlocked the Prussian, allowing him to fully sink onto the younger nation. It was then that Matt noticed the blood under his fingernails and on the tips of his fingers. Gasping, he searched Gilbert's back, finding the marks which he had left still slightly damp with blood. They were shallow cuts but they still needed to be tended and cleaned.

"Gil. Gil, you're bleeding…"

He lifted the exhausted nation off him and saw the deep purple bruises on his chest and raw purple-pink skin of his wrists. Canada's eyes widened.

"Merde, Gil I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to go so far, I-" He was cut off by a gentle finger being placed to his lips.

"I'fe had vorse Maddie. Just go ged de first aid, I'm not going anyvhere." Prussia's smile could have lit up the night sky.

Planting a quick kiss on those smiling lips, Matthew immediately ran from the room searching for the necessary supplies. Tomorrow morning, Prussia was going to wake up to the best breakfast feast he ever had.

Translation Notes:

Da lyubov' moya? (Russian) – Yes my love?