For a moment, France felt as if he were in outer space. He could smell fresh grass but none rested under him, hear the tweeting of birds but not the flutter of their wings, and taste the humidity in the air, but feel no sun.

"France."

His ears perked as the soothing voice reached him. He felt cold fingers brush against his forehead and into his hair. On instinct, his left hand flew up to grasp a bony, frigid wrist and he inhaled the scent of fresh roses and a light smell of sweat. Slowly, he peeked through heavy eyelids and met cool blue irises staring back at him.

"Oh, you're awake," she spoke, her voice soft. "That's good. I thought for a moment you were lost."

He studied the angelic face, blond hair twisting around the shadow created by the sun. He blinked and slowly allowed his eyes to reopen and set upon a heavenly smile. France felt the corner of his lips twitch into a smile, and he exhaled.

"Jeanne?" His voice sounded as if it were outside his body.

The girl laughed. "I'm sorry, but I think you're confused."

France's senses came crashing down on him. He opened his eyes and stared at the face he thought was his beloved Jeanne and grimaced. France sat up, and she shifted to allow him space.

"Ukraine," France sighed. "Your brother has been worried sick about you. Where have you been?"

Her eyebrows twitched upward, and tears formed at the brim of her eyes. "Oh, I didn't mean to make him worry so much. Is he okay? I'm such a terrible older sister making him worry like this. Why didn't he come with you?"

France swallowed her thickly accented words and narrated his past experience with the strange girl, Russia, and England.

"I see," Ukraine's upturned lips curved into a straight line. "Then he's not coming?"

"Of course he'll be here." France studied the strange man next to Ukraine, who seemed to appear in thin air. "Everyone will be here eventually, my dear."

"And you are?" France cooed, eyeing the man over.

"Oh, France, this is the high priest of this world," Ukraine spoke. She leaned into him and whispered in his ear, "He thinks we're gods."

France's eyes perked with her words. "Oh, and which one would I be?"

Ukraine shrugged. "He really hasn't talked much about the others, but America and Canada are here as well."

France sighed. "Well, that's a sigh of relief. At least England can- he didn't come either." France rubbed the back of his head, flinching at his past memory with England. "Ukraine, have you seen a girl named Jeanne running around?"

"Jeanne," Ukraine played with the name a bit. "No, I can't say I have, sorry."

"Then," France deflated, "it was all a lie. I can't believe I fell for it."

"Don't be," Ukraine replied. "We all did." Ukraine helped the nation stand on his feet and looked over to the high priest. "If you would please direct us back to the palace."

The man bowed. "I would love to take you up on that offer my dear, but I have some business to attend to. Maybe your brother can help you out."

"What? France said he wasn't-"

"Ukraine!" a soft voice echoed out to her. She turned toward a bounding Canadian waving his arms to get her attention. His eyes rested on France and he stopped in his tracks, and the Canadian's face lost some of its color.

"Hello, mon petite Canada," France winked at the younger boy, who fidgeted in reply. "At last, I've finally found you."

Canada's mind soared to the conversation he had on his cell phone before he came here. His lips quivered as he found his voice. "France... did we talk, you know, before all this happened?"

"What do you mean?" the Frenchman blinked and rubbed his stubble chin. "I recall talking to America and... oh, that was you?"

Canada's heart sank. "Y-yeah, that was me. But I mean, did we... did you talk about... how I was..." Canada tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat. France walked over to the younger boy and wiped a few stray strands of hair from his eyes.

"...Canada... je ne sais pas de quoi tu parles," he stroked Canada's cheek. The younger bent his head down but returned with a smile.

"I guess you wanted to get back to the palace, eh Ukraine?" He spoke.

She watched him for a moment and replied, "Oh, thank you. That would be great." Canada turned and began to walk away. France glanced over his shoulder at the female nation, shrugged, and followed his former colony. Ukraine rubbed her hands together, remembering the hurt look in the young Canadian's eyes. She glanced behind her, realized the high priest had long gone, and sighed.

"Wait for me!" she called out as she ran after the two male nations.

~o~

"Stupid Canada," America grumbled as he strode down the halls, his hands swinging at his sides. "Stupid hat and his stupid beavers and his stupid cold weather and his stupid-" He stopped as he bumped into another living human, and his glasses were pulled off his face. He blinked, trying to adjust to the wavy lines in front of him. "Um, can I have those back?"

The girl, he assumed because of the high pitched giggle, clicked her tongue and replied, "Silly, Gods don't need glasses."

"Um, well I do in this world," he chuckled nervously.

The girl lashed out and grabbed his shirt collar, earning a surprised yelp from the nation. She slammed him up against the wall and pulled her face close to his. America could make out violet eyes and platinum blonde hair going all the way down to her waist. He swallowed and tried to pull her grip off of him but was surprised to find it was just as strong as he was.

"I have a bone to pick with you about... Rose," the girl growled.

"What about her?" America replied.

"You're getting too involved. Amelia wouldn't like it," the girl's eyes bore a hole into his. America couldn't bring himself to tear away from her gaze.

"Who's Amelia?" he questioned and struggled to get out of her grip once again. "Rose and I are just friends."

The girl's smile widened so far America thought it would crack the sides of her mouth. "Oh, if only you knew." She dropped the nation and threw his glasses onto the ground, stomping down on them. "Woops."

America swooped down and picked up the frame with his fingers, wincing as he nicked a bit of the skin with broken glass. He sucked on his finger and examined the fragile glass that still remained. He looked up, anger dripping in his voice. "What was that about?"

"How clumsy of me." She laughed and watched the nation rise to his feet. "I did tell you Gods didn't need glasses."

"But I'm not a god!" America shouted and stared back at her. "I got sent here because of a stupid wish I made when I should've kept my mouth shut and have no clue how to get back. I don't even know who these stupid Gods are!"

"Stupid?" the girl cracked her neck, stopping America's rant. "So, I'm stupid now?"

America's face paled. "Wait, you mean you're-"

"Yes, America, I am in fact, a goddess of this world. However, they think of me as a God, not a goddess, because of my title. Which will soon be your friend Russia's title when I bring him here."

"What are you talking about? Who are you?"

She sighed and rubbed her head. "I forgot I was talking to the stupid one. Maybe your brother Canada can figure it out for you." Before America could utter another word, the girl disappeared into a thin layer of purple smoke, leaving America alone in the maze of hallways.

~o~

Canada lead France and Ukraine through the halls and into the room he and Ukraine called bed that previous night. He excused himself and walked out into the hallway. Visions of his fight with America bit into his mind and pulled at his heart. He imagined his brother's figure, slumped against the hallway and broken beyond repair. Canada shook the vision away and darted into another hallway. He stopped when his foot crunched on glass underneath his feet. He looked down and picked up the piece with mild curiosity. Something caught his attention on the end of the piece. Glistening, crimson blood.

At first, Canada thought nothing of it, until he looked through the glass. Realizing the glass made his vision stronger, Canada removed his glasses and looked through the glass itself. He cursed under his breath and looked on the floor for a pair of broken glasses to accompany the abandoned lens.

"Canada, is everything alright?" He turned to face Ukraine, her eyebrows furrowed and her blue eyes intent on finding answers.

"Oh, Ukraine. Just picking up some broken glass on the floor."

"But you don't have any gloves on. You could hurt yourself! You mustn't," Canada found Ukraine darting over to him to take the glass from his fingers. He held onto the glass and objected to her actions until a loud cry froze him. He looked down to see Ukraine grasping onto her fingers.

"And what about you?" he picked up her fingers to glance at them, forgetting about the glass that clattered to the floor. "Now you're hurt."

"Oh, it's nothing," she replied. "It will heal in a few minutes. It's just a cut on the finger." She tried to pull her finger away from him, but he held onto her wrist.

"Here," he grabbed a cloth from his back pocket, assuring that he had washed it previously, and dabbed at the fresh blood oozing out of her fingers. "You really should think before acting like this."

"I know," Ukraine blushed and turned her gaze back to the Canadian. "Hey, Canada, what were you talking about before? You know, the conversation with France."

Canada's actions ceased for a second, but he began working within a second's notice. "Oh, it was nothing. I was just being stupid."

"Is that how they got you here? Because you wished to be noticed?" There was an eerie pause between the two. Canada's eyes focused on the cut on Ukraine's fingers, while she searched his face for any answers. She chewed at her lip and continued, "Please, Canada, tell me."

Canada's shoulders tensed, and he nodded in reply. Ukraine breathed in and sighed. "You know, Canada, I notice you." She paused. "I always have. Ever since I separated from брат, I wanted to find someone to become friends with. However, no matter what I tried, no one was there for me. I was alone, and it seemed as if I'd have to go back to living with Russia once again." She stopped and smiled, forcing Canada to meet her eyes. "And then you showed up. You became the first nation to recognize my existence, and for that I am forever grateful. You saved me that day, Canada. Thank you so much."

Canada swallowed and looked away. "I only did what some other nation would've done eventually."

"But you were the first," Ukraine smiled. "I really, really do appreciate it."

Canada smiled and looked into her icy eyes. "You're welcome." He turned his attention back to her fingers, a puzzled look on his face.

"Ukraine..."

"Yes, Canada?"

"Why haven't your fingers healed yet?"

To be continued...


Wow, sorry it took so long to get this out. Life kept getting in the way. Anyway, thanks so much to all my readers for being so patient, and thank the reviewers for reminding me this story still needs love. Until next time. =)