Elizabeta climbed out of the cab with two tote bags filled with food in toll. Victoria followed after, combing back her newly braided hair as she grabbed another bag off the car's floor. Bella paid the driver and strapped a large wine cooler over her shoulder. Together, they walked towards the duplex, double and triple checking their bags.

"Will this be enough?" Elizabeta asked.

"I'm sure Francis has everything he needs but this," Bella gestured to the bags, "is just a precaution."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes, "I'm sure this is just an excuse for free labor."

They reached the door as Victoria pulled out her key, "Well it's not like he could trust Arthur around the kitchen."

They giggled and Victoria opened the door to find a familiar voice shouting, "What did you bastards do to Amy?!"

The girls flinched and each exchanged a glance with one another.

"We can still turn back," Elizabeta offered.

Victoria stroked her chin, pondering on the thought in a mocking manner, "I kinda want to see where this leads," she grinned mischievously.

Bella laughed, "You always say you don't like drama but here you are-taking a front seat."

"I prefer to watch not take part, besides," she stepped in, "men are just so dramatic."

Elizabeta and Bella shared a knowing smile and chased after Victoria. They turned the corner to find Antonio trying to calm down a heated Lovino.

"We didn't do anything," Arthur remarked, irritated.

"Bullshit," Lovino sneered. "Then why has she locked herself in her room, crying-"

"She was perfectly fine till you showed up," Arthur interrupted.

"She was acting strange," Lovino retorted.

"How can you tell? You barely know her," stated Arthur.

"She's traumatized!" Lovino roared and would've charged for him if Antonio didn't step between them. "Something happened in Stockholm and I want to know what!"

"Would you believe that a three hundred year old witch tried to kill her," Arthur remarked casually, "twice."

Lovino blinked, completely taken back, "a-a witch?"

"Yes, Romano, a witch," Arthur's voice dripped with sarcasm. "And this witch has friends, who are hell bent on capturing our souls."

"What would they want with our souls?" Bella asked, her question announcing their presence.

"Ladies," Francis straighten to attention, "we didn't hear you come in."

"Obviously," Elizabeta dropped the bags on the counter, "now answer the question."

"I'm sure you're aware that a nation's soul contains massive amounts of energy," Arthur proclaimed. "We're not certain on why but taking that Abigail is part of the group it's not good."

Elizabeta froze, her jaw falling slack. The name sparked a memory of a teenage girl with raven hair and dark eyes. She was being fitted into a fine violet gown with loose sleeves and a tight corset. Her hair was curled into a high up-do, styled after the ladies of the French court.

"Don't I look ravishing," she grinned at her reflection, admiring her newly painted face.

Elizabeta closed her eyes, quickly composing herself before anyone could notice. It can't be she assured herself, yet she couldn't deny the twist of her gut and the itch to reach for her phone.

"Who is Abigail," asked Antonio, "is she the ringleader?"

"Possibly," Arthur shrugged, "there's another theory that she's looking for someone more powerful."

"Okay," Victoria dragged out the word, pondering for a moment till she pointed a heated glare at Francis. "Are you just a whole new degree of stupid? If these people are after us maybe we shouldn't have the entire European Union under one roof."

"To be fair," Francis raised a finger, "I had this all plan weeks ago."

"That doesn't matter," Bella exclaimed, "if witches are after our souls, we need a plan of action not a party."

Arthur snapped to attention, "That's it. Will use ourselves as bait."

Once he suggested the idea, the others retaliated with a bombardment of questions and complaints:

"I didn't sign up to be anyone's bait!" Lovino chided.

"What do I tell my guests?" Francis crossed his arms, "Hello! Welcome to the party, oh and by the way, we gonna be using you all as bait for three immortal witches."

"Wait! These witches are immortal?!" Antonio eyes grew wide at the thought.

"One of them is over three hundred, of course they're immortal," Lovino snapped.

"Also, it's not like they know where we are," Francis stated.

"They have a Seer," proclaimed Arthur.

"It's not like they see everything," Francis argued. "This all could be some paranoid hutch."

"Yes. A paranoid hutch that could lead to the capture of these witches."

"What if they get the upper hand? Are you willing to sacrifice our allies for a hutch?" Bella said, cautious.

The nations' attentions were strictly on Arthur allowing Elizabeta to slowly sneak back around the corner. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number.

I jerked out another tissue and blew my nose, trying to clear out my nostrils so I could breathe. I rubbed my temple, trying to sooth the impending headache that throbbed on my right side. I had peeled off the dress, taking extra care not to remove the pins. Preferring to be back in my thermals and jeans with a sweatshirt and a baggy wool cardigan; yet I still felt a chill as my skin tighten with goosebumps.

Lovino was shouting at Arthur because of me. I should go out there, explain myself but I couldn't. I didn't want their eyes on me and I certainly didn't want them to hear that Abigail and I had a fucked up make out session.

I immediately flinched at the image and I could've sworn I felt her hands on me. I crossed myself, rubbing my hands all over me to insure myself that I was alone.

Then a voice whispered harshly behind my door and I strained my hearing; recognizing Elizabeta's voice as she spoke in her native tongue. I stepped forward, cracking my door open as softly as I could to watch her.

She had her phone glued to her ear, whispering in an aggravated tone. The voice on the other line was feminine and seemed rather calm. Any other clue I got was Liz calling her Katherina. I tried to follow their conversation but I had no idea what they were saying.

Note to self: learn Hungarian.

Elizabeta continued and I grew annoyed but there was one word I was able to understand.

Abigail.

My hand gripped the door as Liz waited for the woman to respond. Once she did, Liz headed straight for the door, grabbing her jacket along the way.

I didn't think. I strapped in my boots, wrapped a scarf around my neck and yanked my coat off the hanger. I waited till she was out the door and waited once more when her figure was at the bottom of the duplex.

I flipped my hood up and followed, keeping a good enough distance between me and her. I kept my head down, using the fact that Liz had never seen my winter coat. Still I was paranoid; so, when I spotted a woman on her phone with her purse open. A tourist no doubt. I didn't think twice with snatching her sunglasses and kept walking. My heart pounded mostly with the fear of being discovered as a pit pocket and blowing my cover but when I heard no outcry. I sighed and kept my pursuit, till a hand grabbed my shoulder.

"Stealing are we now Miss America?"

I recognized the voice instantly and reduced the urge to bolt, "Shit. Bell, you scared me."

The blonde gave a cat like smile and crossed her arms, "first rule of stalking, make sure no one else is stalking you."

"Noted," I said.

"Now, why are you following Liz?" she asked.

I gestured her to walk with me so not to lose sight of the Hungarian. "She was on the phone with someone, talking about Abigail."

"We were talking about her in the kitchen. Maybe it was Prussia, discussing the impending battle," she instated.

I shook my head, "no. It was a woman and she spoke Hungarian. Also, what battle?"

Bella sighed, "Your uncle thinks it's a good idea to place a trap if the Immortals show up to the party."

"We're gonna be bait?" I hissed.

"Yup," she replied.

I exhaled through my nose, keeping my choice words to myself.

"Stop." Bella grabbed my hand, "We're not following Liz like a pair of stalkers."

"She left. Without telling anyone," I argued. "Don't you find that a little bit suspicious?"

"Amy, this is Liz we're talking about. You can trust her."

"But she's hiding something," I countered.

Bella shook her head, "Liz doesn't keep secrets except for the obvious."

"Everyone has secrets. Hell, I was one for nearly eighteen years," I gave my best you-know-I'm-right look. I pulled my hand out of her grasp and turned, "if you don't want to, that's fine but I'm going-"

She snatched my hand back and gripped it tight, "stop this nonsense. Just call Liz and-"

"And what? She ain't gonna pick up. Now let go or you'll be picking up your teeth off the sidewalk," I threatened.

Bella huffed and raised her eyebrows, "You think that's wise? I've fought for far longer than you have and I've seen my share of battle. Do you really want to test me?"

"Do you want to test me," I glared.

Slowly her eyes soften, filling with sympathy and compassion, "Amy, whatever has happened, you can talk to me about it."

I yanked my arm away, "thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

I spun on my heel, almost sprinting to catch up with Liz. I heard Bella call out for me but I ignored her and followed Liz around a corner, only to be met with the brunette. Elizabeta towered before me, her arms on her hips as she stared daggers into me.

"Why are you two following me?" she demanded.

"To be fair, I was following Amy, following you," Bella stated from behind.

I removed my sunglasses and met Liz with my own piercing gaze, "who was that woman you were talking to on the phone?"

Her eyebrow twitched and I continued, "Are you meeting her?"

"I don't answer to you," she quipped and looked to Bella, "Bell, take her back to France."

I shook Bella's arm off, "I'm not going anywhere! What does she have to do with Abigail?"

"This has nothing to do with you!"

"If it involves Abigail, it has everything to do with me!"

"Would you two keep your voices down," Bella stepped between us, setting a hand on each of us.

Elizabeta inhaled deeply, "Amy, just know that I'm doing this for our safety. You can trust me."

"No. I can't. Especially when you're sneaking off without telling us and meeting some mysterious woman that you won't even tell us who she is!"

She sighed, "She's an informant."

"Okay," I waited.

"She's also a witch."

"Ah, and…"

Liz rolled her eyes, "and she knows of Abigail."

"And how is that?"

"It's a long story and I don't have time to explain."

"Make time."

Not a moment later, her phone vibrated and she answered with a snapped hello. A quick exchange went by in French, mostly with Liz instructing the caller to come down on Avenue Bosquet. A small, gray car came around the corner, pulling to the side when she raised her hand.

A young man was in the driver's seat, he had brown, wavy hair and green eyes. He was handsome and his smug grin was proof enough that he knew it. "Hello, I'm Jerome, you're blabla driver," he introduced himself in practiced English.

I blinked, "Bla-what?"

"It's like the European version of uber driver," Bella informed.

"Oh-w-wait! Wait!" I shouted after Elizabeta as she climbed into the passenger seat. "We're coming with you!"

"No, you're not," she proclaimed firmly and turned to Jerome, "aller."

He was about to enter traffic till I leaped in front of him. He slammed on the breaks, giving out a high pitched squeal as he did.

Liz popped her head out the window, "Get out of the way."

I shouted, "Make me!"

She sighed, "I'm getting too old for this."

I smirked, "Does that mean you admit defeat."

Her eyes blazed, "never."

"You have three seconds to let us inside or I tip the car over."

"Ha," she raised a brow in challenge, "you wouldn't dare."

"Do you not know who you're talking to," Bella exclaimed.

I grinned, bent down and gripped the front bumper with one hand. Ignoring Bella's pleas, I rose steadily, taking the front wheels right off the street. Jerome screamed and Liz gripped the dashboard as I lifted the car on its back wheels the bumper nearly grazing the concrete.

"Last chance Liz, or this car is going over the side walk!"

Shouts of shock and excitement erupted all around me as locals and tourists alike pulled out their phones to record and take pictures.

I could hear Bella groan, "oh god."

"Put us down!" Liz ordered.

"Are we coming with you?" I asked innocently.

"No!"

"Oh, I feel my hand slipping…"

"Just let her come!" Jerome screamed.

"Going once," I warned, "going twice…"

"Okay!" Elizabeta yelled and then sighed, "Okay, you can come, just put the car down."

I gave a smug look as I slowly brought down all four wheels to the ground. "Bell, get in," I gestured to the back doors as I climbed in.

Bella grumbled, "How did I end up in this situation?"

Nonetheless, she slid behind the driver's seat and Jerome slowly reached for the stick shift. He gripped the stick and wheel so tight that his knuckles were white. He glanced to me through the rearview mirror and gave a nervous smile before he turned his focus on the road.

"I think you scared that poor boy," Bella whispered to me.

I rolled my eyes, "he'll get over it."

We made a silent agreement not to say a word about our attended destination. Waiting till Jerome dropped us off in front of an apartment complex on Avenue du Roule. He didn't stick around long; he sped away the second we were out of the car. We hardly noticed or cared as Bella and I followed Elizabeta to the main entrance.

The building was a simple eggshell white with a gray roof top, like most of the structures down that block. Also, like most apartments there were intercom boxes with names and buttons beside them or a key pad for people to type in their apartment number and passcode. Liz pressed the button next to the surname Arany and a woman answered, her voice soft and cheerful.

"Allô?"

Elizabeta replied in Hungarian and the woman instantly buzzed us in.

We didn't have far to go; turned out that the informant was on the ground floor, the last door before you hit the courtyard. Liz was about to knock on the door, but it swung inwards presenting a young woman with long deep brown hair and warm chocolate eyes.

"Lizzie," she greeted Elizabeta with a kiss on both cheeks till her gaze fell on us. "Oh, you've never brought your…" she hesitated, "friends to see me before."

Elizabeta glanced to us before suggesting, "Let's discuss inside."

"Of course, of course, come in, come in," she gestured excitedly, ushering us into a brightly lit living room.

It was small but stylish; combined with bright colors like soft amber, mint green and ivory. A cream love seat sat on one side, facing a chimney with a wooden white mantel. Plotted plants sat upon the mantel, along accented shelves and side tables. A tiny work desk was placed beside the chimney and a rug, festooned with flowers and vines covered the hard wood floors. A spacious nook was added to the end of the room, with a bay window, a cushion seat and a charming table set.

"It's a good thing you caught me," the brunette proclaimed, "I was just about to start packing."

Elizabeta raised a brow in wonder, "where are you heading to next?"

"Japan," she answered, "I have some friends I've been meaning to visit and the Olympic Games will be hosted in Tokyo. Can't miss that."

"We didn't come here to small talk," I interjected. "We came here for info on Abigail, so start talking-what do you know?"

She blinked in confusion and faced Elizabeta, "you told them I was an informant?"

"Wait! She isn't?" I snapped, "then who the hell is she?!"

Elizabeta sighed and Bella stepped closer, "Liz?"

The Hungarian squared her shoulders and stood beside the woman, "I present to you Katherina Báthory-Nádasdy."

Bella's gasped, her eyes going wide as her jaw fell slack.

I made a face, "I'm confused. Am I supposed to know who she is?"

Katherina huffed, a smirk forming on her lips, "You might know my mother, Elizabeth Báthory de Ecsed also known as the Blood Countess."

My blood ran cold.

She must've seen the fear in my eyes for she tried to defuse the tension. "I'll go make us some tea," she proclaimed as she escaped into the kitchen.

I turned on Liz, "what the hell!" I hissed through clutched teeth, trying to keep my voice down. "You brought us into the lair of an Immortal!"

"I don't think an apartment in Paris counts as a lair," Elizabeta snapped with a harsh whisper.

Bella racked her hands through her hair in shock and frustration, "Liz you said she died… committed suicide."

"She faked it," she stated.

"Clearly," I remarked. "We need to go, let's bust out of the window and run."

Liz rolled her eyes, "she's not going to hurt us."

"Most Immortals I've met, have tried to kill me," I emphasized. "So, forgive me if I have a hard time accepting your word for it."

"Katherina is not dangerous," she argued.

"She eats people!" I snapped.

"How long," Bella asked, demanding for our attention, "How long have you known about her?"

Liz thought for a moment, "over three hundred years."

"And in all that time, you never once thought of telling me," her voice quivered slightly.

"Bell, I couldn't tell anyone! What if the Church found her or worse the witches? You know how they are, any Immortal found are immediately put to death."

"But what makes her your responsibility?" Bella countered, "Liz… it wasn't your fault. Her mother was crazy and the emperor at the time was a complete dick."

"Yet she was punished for her mother's crimes and unlike her siblings, she couldn't escape it. No man wanted to marry her because of her mother's arrest and when she finally got the land she was promised after her death. Matthias that bastard, took that away and stripped her name of power. She was left penniless-"

"Oh boo-hoo," I interrupted, "you want me to feel sorry for her? She followed her mother into Crazy Town and took Occult Boulevard but unlike her mother, she succeeded. She found a way to be young and beautiful forever by eating the souls of innocent people."

"If we must discuss my diet, I assure you none of my prey were innocent."

We froze and turned to Katherina, holding a tray of tea, cookies and three slices of lemon cake. She struts passed us and sets the tray on the table, "come, sit and have some cake."

Elizabeta took a seat and I shared a look with Bella. She gave a nervous smile, shrugged her shoulders and sat beside Liz. I spared a glance to the Immortal before taking my seat at the window as she severed us cake and tea.

"Here you go," she smiled as she slid me my slice.

"Thanks," I muttered till I noticed her bite into a cookie. "You can eat food?"

She blinked, looking to the cookie and nodded in realization, "right, yes, I forget. Force of habit you see. When I have guests, I usually offer food and I found that it was better to eat with them than not."

"So… it doesn't bother you?"

"No, eating food doesn't do anything to me. It doesn't give me nutrition nor do I gain weight. I can't even taste it."

"You can't taste? Like at all?" I questioned.

She nodded, "once you eat a soul your taste buds burst in flavor nothing else could ever satisfy you."

I thought about never being able to taste chocolate again and I winced, "screw immortality I want chocolate."

Katherina laughed, "You are an Immortal as well, but with better perks."

"Damn straight," I said as took a bite of cake, "I don't have to eat people."

"Amy," Liz hissed at me in a warning tone.

Katherina raised a hand, "now Lizzie, she does have a point but I assure you, I only hunt the most vile of mankind. Mostly men, few women but never children."

I clapped my hands slowly as my tone dripped with sarcasm, "Congradu-fucking-tions, you deserve a noble peace prize for being a good cannibal."

"America. She is not a cannibal," Liz glared.

I didn't back down, "Oh right, she eats the soul, that's totally better."

"Um," Bella cuts in, "I do have a question… how did you become an Immortal? I mean, I get the whole soul thing but what lead you to this?"

Katherina sighed sadly, "I had a governess named Valise, unlike me she became an Immortal against her will. So, to give her peace, I took her immortality and scattered her remains here in Paris." She huffed, a smile forming on her lips, "well that was her best guess; she was born to a nomadic tribe in Gaul before she was taken by Romans. She didn't have any specific clue on where she was born."

"Romans," I blinked, "damn, if I had to live that long, I'll ask you to kill me too."

Liz either didn't catch that or decided to ignore me, "I always knew something was wrong about that woman."

"Lizzie, you only saw her as many times as you saw me, which wasn't often," Katherina stated, almost backhandedly.

Elizabeta narrowed her eyes as I added, "Well good thing we have nanny review sites, making sure the next person you hire to watch your kids isn't an immortal witch."

Liz turned her glare onto me, "Are you done?" She didn't wait for me to answer, her question being more than enough to threaten me into silence. She looked back to Katherina, "You can't blame me for my absence. I was warrior; fighting against Turkey for my people, which included you."

"Heh, the people…" she muttered, "the people hated my family. They cheered when my mother died and didn't care at all when my siblings and I were dragged through the mud." Katherina took a moment to sip her tea, "No one fought for us when we were stripped of our power and wealth, but unlike my siblings I was not married, so they too abandoned me. For their new families, new names and new titles. My brother on the other hand, joined the military, trying in vain to redeem our family name…"

She paused, her eyes locked on her cup as if she was somewhere else, far, far away. "Only to die alone, his life drained and devoted to the army and our country. His name forgotten, lost in the past with only a mention of him but of no acknowledgment of his pride and belief in his kingdom." She turned on Liz, lifting her drink in mock salute, "for his nation," she declared bitterly.

Liz remained quiet and I looked to Bella as her hand fell off the table and reached for Elizabeta's.

"You can't really blame her," I proclaimed, "or the people, your mother did kill all those girls."

"Yes, but Matthias wanted our land and accused us of treason over our mother's crimes. No one defended us."

"I did," Liz proclaimed.

Silence filled the room as Katherina spared her a glance and took another small sip of tea, "a lot of good that did us."

I curled my fingers into fists, digging my nails into my palms till they strung, "Liz still fights for you even now." I hissed through clutched teeth, "She has made sure you were never found out and could live out your immortal life in peace. That has to count for something right?"

"Guilt is powerful thing isn't it?"

I wanted so badly to punch her pretty face in and I would've done it too, if Bella didn't snatch my hand and mouthed, "Don't."

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to calm down but seeing Liz with her head down and her shoulders drawn tight. It only filled my rage, "Let's stop beating around the goddamned bush; tell us about Abigail. Who exactly is she and what does she want?"

Katherina didn't' hesitant, "Abigail is my daughter."

My jaw dropped, "what?!"

"You can have children?!" Bella exclaimed, almost angrily.

"They're not blood related," Liz interjected, her tone wielding no emotion. "Katherina adopted her."

Katherina glared, possibly annoyed with Liz's lack of empathy, "she was living in New York, working as a sex worker. She would have died on those streets."

"Oh no," I muttered in a monotone, "that would've been so awful."

Katherina then turned her sights on me, "she was only twelve."

"Oh, look at you dropping the tragic backstory, well guess what I still don't give a fuck," I sassed. "I literally have no fucks to give. You want to know why?" I rose to my feet and slammed my hands on the table, "Cause Abigail is a monster. She turned a nation into her own personal murder toy and forced him to kill innocent people. You know that Svenska animal attack? Well it was no animal! It was Abigail's plan for our friend to kill those people as she ate their souls. And I highly doubt any of those vets, students or volunteers-the youngest being sixteen by the way, were the most vile humans of mankind! "

Katherina's eyebrows knotted together in worry as she slowly blinked and looked to Elizabeta, "may I speak with you, alone."

"What?! No. Whatever you have to say to her, you can say in front of us!" I objected.

Liz gave a pointed look to Bella and the blonde nodded, "Amy, we should wait outside."

"No! Liz!"

The Hungarian looked up, her energy drained and her eyes tired, "Please…just go."

I admitted defeat but I tried to save some sherd of dignity as I strut for the door and announced. "I killed Abigail before and if I see her face again, I'll make sure to bury her under ten feet of cement."

I slammed the door behind me and stomped for the courtyard, muttering every curse and threat I could muster. The air blew, kicking a gust of snow beside my feet as the chill seeped into my bones. Then I remembered, I left my coat inside.

Fuck.

I was too stubborn to walk back in, besides my pent up anger was more than enough to keep me warm. Anger for the fact that Liz tried to hide critical information on Abigail. That Katherina had the nerve to mock her nation, even when Elizabeta did so much to protect her.

Well, she certainly did a one-eighty when I brought up Abigail's crimes; reaching out to Liz like a lost child.

It really pissed me off.

Everything about this just pisses me off.

But what really made me frustrated was this sinking feeling of hopelessness; not knowing on what to do or how to do it.

I didn't have any new info.

No plan.

I was stuck.

I was practically waiting for her to attack and she knew that if she wanted to hurt me, really hurt me. She'll go after my family.

Then I felt it, a faint sensation of a hand caressing my arm as the wind whispered, "such a pretty golem."

My fist flew, instantly colliding into a tree with a hard smack, leaving a dent. The bark ripped into my skin and I dug it in further, trying to erase that god awful sensation.

I was so focused on increasing my pain that I didn't notice Bella calling out to me till her fourth attempt on my name. "Amy!"

I snapped my head up, meeting with a pair of deeply concerned green eyes.

I quickly pulled my hand back to my side, trying to hide the blood and large purple bruise that it was sporting. "What?"

She was quiet for a moment, almost as if she wasn't sure on where to start. She took a deep breath and asked, "did-did anything happened? With you and Abigail-"

"It's nothing," I interrupted harshly. "I'm no victim. I'm fine." I muttered at first, and then declared, "I'm fine."

She reached out to me and I flinched, "don't."

She pulled back, "okay."

Elizabeta watched as Bella grabbed Amy's coat and followed her out the door. When it clicked behind the blonde it seemed to echo, enhancing the silence between Elizabeta and Katherina. The nation continued to watch Katherina as she looked out the window, blinking slowly, trying to regain her composure.

Elizabeta simply waited, knowing full well what she was going ask.

"If you find her," Katherina whispered, "please tell me."

Elizabeta clutched her fists, ready to shout but she was able to keep her tone neutral, "she's gone too far. What she did at Svenska-"

"That could've been any Immortal-"

"Seven nations witnessed this!" Elizabeta exclaimed.

"Do you realized how easy it is to change one's features," Katherina remarked calmly as she gave herself red hair, a long face and bright blue eyes.

Elizabeta winced, "don't do that."

She laughed bitterly, her face returning, "You have to admit, it came in handy."

"Don't change the subject Katherina," complained Elizabeta, "you've known… both of us have felt something was dark about that girl."

"Could you really blame her? After what she had to do to survive?" Katherina remarked. "She was only twelve, just a child."

"Well she's not a child anymore is she? She murdered twelve people-ate their souls-"

"I can reason with her-"

"Reason with her?!" Elizabeta tried not to shout, but her anger could only be tamed for so long. "She turned a nation into a monster. She tried to kill other nations-"

"She's going through a phase," Katherina instated.

Elizabeta's jaw dropped, stunned for a moment, "a phase? Are you serious? When are you going to realize that she never wanted what you had planned for her? Marriage. Children. She didn't want that. She wanted what you had. Power. Immortality."

"She became an Immortal to protect a working girl-"

"And you still buy that shit! Kat… when was the last time you even spoke with her?"

Katherina didn't have to think on it for too long, "The sixties."

Elizabeta cocked a brow curiously, "do you remember what you two talked about?"

"No," Katherina answered too quickly, proving to Elizabeta that she was lying. Protecting Abigail like always.

"She's not your family-"

"And you are?!" Katherina rose to her feet, screaming, "You may have eaten with us, shared in our celebrations and fought alongside us but you were a piece of property. Just an add-on that came with the goddamned castle!"

Elizabeta showed no emotion, flexing her face into a stoic mask. A mask that she had perfected through the centuries. A mask that has caused both humans and nations alike to stop dead in their tracks. Katherina was no different; the Immortal flinched as her eyes flashed green and the pots of plants around the room began to shake.

Elizabeta paid no mind as she squared her shoulders and flipped her hair back, "Abigail is a dangerous woman and must be taken down. Tell me Katherina, would you do it? Will you take responsibility for her?"

Katherina looked away, her eyes fading back to brown, "get out."

Elizabeta didn't say a word as she turned and walked out the door.

Once Ella had finished her shower and lotion routine, she slipped on her robe and drove for the closet; browsing through her collection of party dresses.

She stopped at a red, low cut, mid-thigh length dress, "hmm, too provocative."

She found a floor length, purple ballroom gown, "mm, too formal."

Then a short dark green clubbing dress, "ugh, what was I thinking?"

Finally, she un-hooked a dark blue dress with a ruffled layer hem and a sheer net high collar. She nodded, "this will do."

She laid out the gown on her bed and began to accessorize. She rummaged through her jewelry box, pulling out a sapphire pendant and a matching set of dangling earrings. She then moved to her carry on and dug through it to find her new wooden bead bracelet. Each bead was tiny and smooth, beautifully crafted with fine dark oak. It was simple but yet had a single gold charm that dangled alongside the beads. The charm was an opened hand with an eye lined in the palm; a symbol of the third eye.

She placed it beside the dress and began to massage her ends with Moroccan oil; preparing each strand for the twisted up-do.

"Ella, may I come in," announced her mother, Pascaline Chasse as she strolled in without Ella's permission.

Ella sighed, why does she bother asking when she walks right in. "Hello Mother, is there something you need?"

Pascaline didn't hesitant when she answered, "I have to see what you chose to wear to the party. Your father has important guests coming."

Ella rolled her eyes, of course he does.

"Oh really?" she added coyly.

"Yes, and I need you-" once Pascaline finally set her pale green eyes on her daughter, she gasped. "Ella! What have you done to your hair?"

She blinked in surprise, completely forgetting about changing her hair color, nearly four months ago. "I changed the color. What do you think?"

Ella instantly regretted her question when Pascaline's perfectly waxed brows ceased in a distressed knot. "What do I think? That color completely washes you out and it makes those dull eyes of yours even duller-if that was even possible."

"The stylist said it was a good color," Ella tried to defend her choice but her mother only snorted.

"An American stylist." Pascaline sighed, brushing a slim hand through short blonde hair. She took a moment to check the strands, "I'll make an appointment with my stylist before you head back to the states." She grew annoyed with the mention of the US, "from all the fashion schools you could've chosen, you decided on some mediocre school in New York."

It was the farthest school away from you, Ella thought to herself.

"Mother, New York has quite the reputation. It's been known as a headway in fashion."

"Paris will always be the fashion capital," Ella knew where her mother's loyalty lies, being a former Karin model, Pascaline will stand with her city till her dying breath.

"Anyway, this dress will not do," she looked to piece of garment like it would burn her if she dared touch it. "You need something lighter," she scrolled through her gowns and pulled out a simple, crossed strap lavender dress. "This will do."

"Um, Mother I really wanted to wear the blue one-"

"If you still had blonde hair, then yes you could pull off that dress, but no." Pascaline laid out her choice of dress and discarded Ella's. "The color would make your skin look pale. I mean, I understand the need for dark clothes, given you had gain some extra weight."

Ella wrapped an arm around her waist, unknowingly pinching at a bit of flesh, "I haven't gained that much, just a kilo or two," she muttered.

Pascaline heard her, "yes, but it's a slippery slope. You have your grandmother's body, curvy yes, but you gain weight easily. Men prefer their women fit and well-kept. I would watch the dessert if I were you tonight."

Ella bit her sarcasm back, "yes Mother."

Pascaline turned back to the bed, analyzing the jewelry, "Oh no, the sapphires would clash horribly with the lavender." She snatched up the pendant and earrings and raised a brow in question when she held the bracelet up like discarded tissue. "And what is this?"

"That's my secret Santa gift from Heisuke," Ella answered.

"That Japanese boy? You still keep in contact with him?"

"Yes. We chat occasionally," said Ella.

"Well, make sure to tell him, if he plans to shop for a young lady, he shouldn't choose something so… boyish." She tossed the beads aside; sending them to skid across the vanity table and stop inside a crack between the mirror and wood.

"Mother, please be careful," Ella managed to keep her voice calm but her patience was growing thin.

"Those things are tacky, it ruins the entire outfit," Pascaline ignored her daughter's plea and dug through Ella's box, making an annoyed click of her tongue as she did. "Oh Ella, you need to take better care of your jewelry. You need something bigger-more organized."

Ella tried to speed things along, "what about the pearls?"

"That would make you look old," her mother banished the thought and tugged out a pair of dangling gold earrings. "Ah, these are better," she combed a hand through Ella's hair only to shout, "What did you do to your ears?!"

She had found the second set of piercings that were aligned with the first. Ella groaned, "Mother there just an extra set-"

"I don't care, one hole in each of your ears are good enough," she snapped. "Ugh," she massaged away the worry wrinkles that threatened to form on her forehead. "And tonight of all nights. We have to make sure they don't show. Keep your hair down tonight, curled with it half up is fine."

"Yes, Mother," Ella answered as Pascaline called for a maid.

Lisa Petit was a short, nervous woman but kind; Ella liked her. "You called Madam?"

"Can you be any slower?" Pascaline criticized harshly.

"Oh-Oh sorry, I was just cleaning the third bathroom when you called-"

"Enough of that," Pascaline silenced Lisa with a wave of her hand. "Curl Ella's hair and make sure her ears are covered. An elegant half-do will suffice."

"Yes Madam," Lisa nodded.

Pascaline stopped at the door, "Be ready at eight sharp, I want you there to greet our guests."

Ella nodded, "Yes Mother."

Once she had answered Pascaline was gone, her heels clicking against the tile floor, growing further and further away.

Ella glanced to the bed, the lavender dress seemed to mock her. How dare she believe that she had a choice? A choice in what clothes she could wear. A choice in what color her hair could be. If her mother didn't approve, it was criticized till Ella changed it. Her choices, her ideas, if they didn't fit into her parents' image it was cast aside.

She was ruefully reminded of her place. She was an object, a tool for her parents to use or show off when needed. Like her mother always said, "children were meant to be seen not heard."

Ella met her reflection, noticing that yes, the chestnut brown did make her pale. Her cheeks were rounder and her clothes did feel tighter. Her dull brown eyes were dark and boring and her ears were unsightly.

"Oh, you changed your hair Miss Ella, it looks lovely," Lisa smiled.

Ella tried to return her smile but all she did was nod and clutch on to her beads. She remained quiet as Lisa curled each strand to perfection.

Perfection.

That word made her cringe.

That word was the driving force of her mother's life; everything, absolutely everything had to be perfect. Her career, a well-respected model that has aged effortlessly with grace and beauty. Her husband, a handsome, world influencer chairman with ties to high society. Her home, a private mansion in the 16th arrondissement in her beloved city of Paris.

The only thing that didn't fit was her daughter. She was beautiful yes, but she was rash and outspoken, not at all graceful. She struggled in science and math while her mother could obtain a career while succeeding in school. Ella may have graduated from Nightingale but not without the influence of her father.

Ella squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears back.

"I'm sorry," Lisa handed her a tissue, "Madam was harder on you tonight given that they have important school directors and beneficiates from South Africa coming in. Planning not only to make Nightingale sister schools but public schools across the continent."

Ella snorted, "Oh do they still believe that Africa needs saying?"

Lisa laughed, "People like your parents need to feel like they're needed. They need to feel bigger than they are."

"Well, they're not," Ella met Lisa's eyes through the mirror, "they're human, just like the rest of us."

Lisa smiled, "do you want anything?"

Ella thought for a moment, feeling the need for something warm in her hands. "Hot chocolate would be nice, but with peppermint, please."

"On its way," Lisa announced and headed for the door.

Ella turned to her bracelet, caressing each bead. She thought about calling Heisuke, properly thank him for her gift but she saw the time and did the math. It was three in the morning in Tokyo right now, he would most likely be asleep. She sighed and glanced to her screen where a picture of her and her friends welcomed her. They're goofy grins seemed to radiate with pure joy. She missed them; even Sam but she missed Daniela more. She scrolled through her contacts and hovered over Daniela's icon.

Before Ella could tap on her picture a knock came from the door, "Miss?"

Ella looked up, "yes."

A young man with tan skin and black curly hair walked in, "your coco Miss."

"Thank you but wasn't Lisa-"

"She got pulled away Miss," he answered. "Told me to bring this to you, sorry for the wait, big house."

She smirked, he must be new. It wasn't uncommon for Pascaline to hire new help when there was party to be thrown. She took the mug of steamy hot chocolate and blew at the top before taking a sip, it tasted fine but it wasn't like the coco Daniela made.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No, no. Thank you for the coco, you can leave now," instructed Ella.

"Right. Um, if you need anything, my name's Rey," he swiftly introduced himself and backed into hall.

Ella didn't respond, simply gazing into her mug instead.

Once Rey closed the door, the armor that cloaked his skin rippled and hissed in his ear.

"Her."

"Yes, yes," he snapped in a hushed tone, "but first, we have to clean up our mess."

Rey opened a hall closet to find Lisa's strangled body slumped against the wall. He bent down and placed a hand on her ankle and instantly the armor leapt for her. The tumors swarm her body, completely covering her from head to toe as they ripped into her skin, drinking in her blood. Followed with by her bones and muscles; absorbing her and leaving nothing behind but the clothes on her back.

I sat myself at the teal vanity set, rubbing my face in frustration and exhaustion. Liz refused to answer any of our questions, being as vague as humanly possible with, "I have what we need," and "she can't defend her anymore." Just a useless way of saying that we were back to square one; to a party that was supposedly to be used as bait with no aid from the Council. Yes, it turns out that they really meant what they said; they didn't want anything to do with us. So, in their absence Arthur recruited Lukas and Vladmir to create a trap within our ward. If any Immortal dares to cross it, they'll be caught in a supernatural net, I assumed.

But would that really stop them? Let alone hold them?

"Ugghhhhh!" I groaned and banged my head on the table.

"Well, that didn't sound pleasant."

I peeked through my curls to find Francis, "oh hey," I muffed against the wood.

"Don't hey me, get up, let's see that face," he lifted me up, instructing me to lean back against my seat. He pouted, "Don't hurt yourself like that."

"What does it matter? It'll heal," I stated.

"Yes but, I would prefer you not hurt yourself purposely," he brushed my hair back and kissed my forehead. "There all better."

I blinked, completely taken by surprise, "uh, thank you…"

"Ohhhh, look at you!" he gushed, "All red and flustered!"

He tried to pinch my cheeks but I covered my face and whined, embarrassed. "Stop it! Don't you have any cooking to do?"

"Matthieu and Victoria are taking care of it, which gives me time to do your makeup," he said gleefully.

"I can do my own makeup," I countered.

"But you let India do it," he insisted.

I sighed, "Fine, just let me braid my hair first."

"Oh, let me, let me!" he excitedly grabbed a brush and began combing it through my hair. "It's gotten so long," he cooed and then measured a lock against my side, "It's about to pass your chest!"

"I was thinking of cutting it," I added.

"No! Don't you dare cut this beautiful mane!" he declared dramatically.

I chuckled, "okay."

Francis parted my hair to the side and tugged out a few strands to frame my face. Then he began to Dutch braid on the side with less hair, "So what did you and girls do? Some shopping? Paris has a magnificent shopping district."

"Uh," the image of me snatching a pair of sunglasses off a tourist came into focus, "something like that."

He hummed in response and continued the braid to the back of my head, he pulled on the strands slightly, making it bigger and more voluminous. "Anything else?" he asked.

I bit my lip nervously, "do you want the honest truth?"

His fingers slowed but his tone was even, "yes."

"We went to see an informant. We were trying to get intel on Abigail," I confessed.

"Oh," he was quiet for a moment, "did you learn anything new?"

Immediately, I thought of Liz and Katherina but it wasn't my place to reveal Liz's secret. So, I went with my trademark half-truth, "Nothing much. She was a twelve year old sex worker."

Francis tensed, "that's horrible."

"No offense but after what she did to Toris and those people, I'm not at all sympathetic."

He nodded, braiding my hair up and over my head, completing the halo crown. "You really like Mr. Lithuania huh?" he wiggled his brows.

I rolled my eyes, "Yes cause he's my friend. I mean, I think he is."

"You think?" Francis raised a brow.

"It's not like we made each other friendship bracelets but fighting an evil immortal witch together counts as something right?"

He chuckled, "oh Amy, relationships between nations are always tricky. It's not always about us, sometimes you can't get involved with another nation if your government doesn't approve or if you're at war with each other. Of course, it makes it more alluring, forbidden fruit and all."

"Mm-hm, I have a feeling you know all about that," I smirked.

"Oh, my sweet summer child," he caressed my cheek. "You have no idea."

I laughed, really laughed for the first time in days. It felt good.

Francis brushed a strand back, "there's my pretty girl."

I blushed, "stop, you're worse than my mom."

He grinned and then clapped his hands together, "now look in the drawer."

I raised a brow curiously and pulled at the middle drawer to find cosmetic products. Palettes of eye shadow sat at the top with foundation and blush at the bottom. Dozens of brushes were laid out to one side along with multiple eyeliners, ranging in color, liquid and clay. They were fancy brands too, like Dior, Chanel and Lancôme.

"Oh, wow Francis, thank you but you know I'm not that big on makeup," I didn't want to seem ungrateful. But I didn't want him to waste his money on things I wouldn't really use.

"Oh, hush it wasn't any trouble, besides you can use them for special occasions," he grinned even wider, his eyes literally sparkling with happiness.

Those eyes… I can't deny him, "You're right. Thank you, Francis."

He clapped excitedly and pulled out the primer and foundation, "let's get started! I believe this would be a good color for you."

I allowed him to smear the liquid over my forehead and cheeks, spreading it with a sponge to reach every corner of my face. "Now I was thinking with the eyes, we use a light gold and let it fade to brown at the end."

"Mm," I nodded, simply going along with everything he said.

"Of course, that only works with the cat-eye and no liner at the bottom."

"Okay."

"And those lips, we will go darker with a nice plum color. It will draw the eye and I'm sure Lovino would love the color," he snickered.

I groaned, "Really?"

"Oh, you think we should go with a different color? I know for a fact that Lovino loves red," he winked.

"I do not want to know how you know that," I pleaded.

Francis moved on to blending a powder and blush along my cheekbones, "you can say he has a bit of an oral kink."

"Oh god no, please, I can't un-hear this," I moved to cover my face but Francis slaps my hand away.

"No touching." He checked the damage and blended in more blush. "And just so you know-"

"I said I didn't want to know."

"I only know this cause I talk with the girls."

"Of course, you do," I sighed.

He gave me a concerned look, "Are you worried? I know he's been with many women but-"

"Wha-no! Francis, that's least of my problems," I assured. "But I guess I am worried about earlier. Is he okay? Did I hurt him?"

"The only thing you bruised was his pride and his head, but he's fine," Francis grabbed the eye-shadow. "He's still working on your dress," his eyes flickered to the door that lead to the next room.

"I better apologize," I was about to get up but Francis stopped me.

"No, no, no, not until the makeup is done ma chère."

Lovino double checked his stitching, making sure that each thread had blended with the embroidery. He was so focused in fact he didn't bother to look up when someone entered the room.

"Goddammit France. I'll tell you when I am done-" he froze, the last word dying on his lips as he came face to face with Amy.

She stood before him dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt with her hair braided into a crown, festooned with pearl and gold pins. Her lashes were long and full and the lids were completely covered with glittery gold and brown eye shadow. But what really stood out to him were her lips. They were painted with a glossy shade of purple, dark and shiny that begged to be kissed off.

"Um, hey," she greeted with a small wave.

For a moment Lovino feared he was caught staring and quickly looked away, "h-hey," was all he stuttered out.

An awkward silence lingered between them till Amy asked. "So, um, how's the dress coming along?"

"It's almost done," he assured, "just checking the stitching."

"Ah," she nodded and stepped closer to the dress, "wow you can't even tell it's been altered."

He swelled with pride, "of course you can't tell. If you can tell that your clothes have been altered than your tailor is shit."

She laughed, "Well good thing to know I have the best."

Lovino's heart squeezed at the compliment as his eyes found their way back to her lips. They were parted with a sliver of teeth showing, the color once again tempting him to the idea of that gloss being smeared across her mouth as he kissed her breathless.

He flushed and looked away, "You should try it on," he suggested. "See if I have to make any more alterations."

"Are you sure?" she asked uncertainly.

"Si. Si." He didn't trust himself to look at her and distracted himself with the pins on his pin cushion.

"Okay," she stripped the mannequin and walked back to her room.

He sighed in relief when he heard the door clicked shut.

"So, do you like her makeup?"

Lovino spun around to find Francis leaning against the wall, "I do remarkable work, don't I?"

His shit-eating grin told Lovino everything, "you bastard. How did you know?"

"Bella and I, we get together some times for mindless gossip," he examined his nails. "So, I take it you like the color, oui?"

"Get out," Lovino hissed.

"But why?" Francis whined and then snapped his fingers, "I should've gone with red."

Lovino glared but that didn't stop the Frenchman, "oh and by the way don't go too crazy on the lipstick it's quite expensive."

"France stay right there while I stab this needle into your eye!" Lovino sprinted for Francis and the said Frenchman screamed as he darted out of the room.

Lovino had a half of mind to chase him but the sound of another door opening stopped him. He turned and instantly froze.

Amy grinned at him and twirled; the waist was pinched causing the hem to be shorter by two centimeters, revealing more leg. The high collar was skin tight and the string of pearls were aligned with her spine. The gown that was once baggy and unflattering, now tighten and shaped perfectly to her figure.

"Lovi, you're a freaking miracle worker," she twirled again, "I love it! Reminds me of something I would wear on stage."

Lovino was stunned; her pure, genuine joy was a beautiful sight and he couldn't help but say: "you're radiant."

She stopped, blushed and looked away, "um, heh, thanks but don't get too used to it. I don't usually look like this."

"Either way you're still radiant, like a ray of sunlight that breaks through at the first sign of dawn," his smile grew wider as the sight of Amy's entire face and neck flushed with a deeper shade of red.

She turned to the side, laughing nervously as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Layering it on a bit thick, don't you think?"

Lovino reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips and kissed her fingers, "I am only speaking the truth."

The light in Amy's eyes dulled for a second before she pulled back, "you only speak what you think is the truth."

Lovino furrowed his brow, confused for a moment till Britain's words emerged from the back of his mind:

"Would you believe that a three hundred year old witch tried to kill her? Twice."

"Amy, Britain told me about Abigail-"

"Yeah," she interrupted, agitated, "you yell, a lot."

Lovino inhaled a calming breath, "I know. I was just… angry."

"Cause I wouldn't talk to you?" she remarked.

"Yes," he admitted, "but… mostly I was mad at the fact you didn't feel like you could talk to me."

She shook her head, "Lovi it's not all about you. I don't want to talk about it with anyone."

"And you think that's healthy?" Lovino countered.

"Right now, yes." She snapped and then sighed, "Its New Year's, let's-let's just try and enjoy it. Okay."

"How can I?" he questioned, frustrated. "When I know you're hurting. Amy I just want to understand."

"Understand?" she tsked, "You know what happened at Svenska."

He blinked, confused with the sudden change of subject, "the animal attack?"

She gave him an unwavering gaze, "It wasn't an animal attack."

Lovino's eyes widened, "Did she-did she do that, to those people?"

"She," Amy hesitated, "forced someone to do that."

"Who," he asked.

She grew silent and Lovino connected the dots, "It was one of us wasn't it?"

Amy avoided eye contact.

"Britain told us Abigail was after nations," he continued. "Who was it? Sweden? Finland?"

"Toris," she whispered as she held herself with shaking arms. "She turned him into…" she squeezed her eyes closed.

"Into what?" Lovino asked, concerned.

"A monster," she finally answered.

He clutched his jaw, the thought of Lithuania injuring her crossed his mind, "did he hurt you? Is that why you pushed me away when I touched you?"

Amy grew hostile, "What?! No! He was controlled by a fucking witch! I'm the last person you need to worry about."

He snorted, "Am I supposed to care about Lithuania then?"

"Yes," she snapped.

Lovino knew he was coming off as cold and heartless yet he can't deny his jealously. "If it came down to you or him, I'd pick you."

He hoped that what he said came out as romantic but the menacing glare she returned proved otherwise.

"Well if I had to pick between you or him. I would choose him in a heartbeat."

Lovino's heart sank as Amy spun for the door and slammed it behind her.

"Ouch," Victoria said sympathetically and poured Lovino another shot of whiskey, "here sweetie, drink the pain away."

He gulped it down in one swallow, "she likes him more, doesn't she?"

Matthew sighed, of all the guys Amy could get involved with, it had to be Lovino.

"Okay wait," Matthew cuts in, "I'm sure Amy didn't mean picking Toris over you in a romantic way. It kinda reminds me of the time you were cutting into Francis and she defended him."

Lovino glared, "You call him Toris? When did you two get so chummy?"

"Oh my god," Matthew groaned, "what? Now I can't be friends with him?"

"He was close to Russia and his friend Latvia, tried to sabotage my," Lovino hesitated, "friendship with Amy."

"And you think they're out to get you now," Victoria quirked brow in humor.

"Si! He's the reason that was I late and soaking wet at the party in India," he informed.

"How?" Matthew asked.

"We shared a cab, then a stupid cow just had to stop in the middle of the damn road. Our driver wouldn't go and he had her ear bud and I got irritated-"

"Hold up, you got mad over an ear bud?" Matthew gave him a pointed look.

"Amy left something precious and she didn't think twice about him having it," he argued.

Matthew brushed a hand through his hair, trying not to laugh, "Do you not hear how crazy you sound."

"Listen Lovi, I love your passion but you need to chill," Victoria suggested. "You can only pull this jealous stick for so long."

"I'm not jealous," he stated.

Victoria shared a slide glance with Matthew as if saying: 'does he think we'll buy that?'

Matthew shrugged his shoulders and looked back to Lovino, "Ok, but you need to understand that Toris and Amy, they-they went through a lot. Not only did he become a monster against his will, Amy was part of the ritual that turned him back to normal. Then the next day, she, along with him and Mikkel had to fight Abigail again. They didn't tell us everything but clearly things went down; all that builds a bond."

"So, you're saying the only way I can get closer to Amy is if I help her fight an immortal witch?" Lovino questioned almost mockingly.

"Kinda sounds like it," Victoria stated seriously.

Lovino sighed and served himself another shot.

Victoria turned to Matthew and whispered, "I'm gonna check on the shrimp and cocktail sauce," she pointed a thumb to the stove behind them. "You watch him."

"Why me?"

"He likes you and you're the only one I can trust that won't encourage him to jump off the roof. Remember the last time he went drinking with Francis, Antonio and Gilbert?"

He briefly recalled Gilbert making a bet to see who could make the jump from the roof of a house, to a trampoline and end at the make-shift pool Gil had built the night before. Matthew shook his head, "I still ask myself why and at Arthur's manor at all places."

Victoria thought for a moment, "Didn't Lovino break his arm making the jump?"

"No, his leg. Antonio was the one to break his arm."

"Francis didn't do it right?"

"Yeah, he said he may have been drunk but he wasn't stupid."

She giggled, "it was still fun though."

"The place was trashed." Matthew proclaimed, "There were feathers and silly string everywhere and I'm still wondering, how they got hoof prints on the ceiling. Also, guess who had to help clean it up?"

"Hey, I kidnapped you in the nick of time," she grinned even wider and stepped back for the stove.

Matthew was so preoccupied with Victoria that he didn't notice Lovino watching their sly exchange.

"It was always you," the Italian muttered.

Matthew faced him, "What?"

"Nothing," he took another swing of liquor, "I just realized that I'll never be anyone's first choice."

Matthew's heart broke for the man, "Lovi," he reached for Lovino's hand and squeezed. "Listen, it's not you-"

Lovino snorted and Matthew exclaimed, "Listen to me. Amy's not as old as us and she's going through a lot in a short amount of time. Especially in her official year as a nation. She just witnessed a nation get turned into a monster, fight three immortal witches in the span of three days and then saw three nations, Arthur included get beheaded and then come back to life. It's a lot to process."

Lovino blinked and nodded in agreement, "fuck."

Matthew sighed, "Yeah. I know you don't want to hear it, but jealously and insecurity will be your downfall. Besides, Amy's fiercely loyal, she won't hurt you on purpose."

Lovino laughed bitterly, "that's the thing, she knew that what she said would hurt me and she said it anyway."

"It's because you said that you would choose her over Toris-"

"What makes him so damn special-"

"It's not what you think," Matthew exclaimed. "Like I said, she's fiercely loyal; to a point where she sees herself as expendable."

"What?!" Lovino glared but he couldn't hide the genuine worry in his eyes, "how could she think that?"

"It's what Arthur believes," Matthew paused, "A councilmen came to him, asking Arthur to give Amy his thanks. It turns out that Amy made herself a shield for the councilmen and a Seeker. She took on a wave of spikes for them, nearly dying on the spot. She put herself on the line for people she just met. Just imagine what she would do for people she cared for."

Lovino shook his head and proclaimed, "I get her family but for two people she didn't know?"

Matthew huffed but gave a sad smile, "I think the fact that we don't die so easily helps but it's exactly what Al would've done."

"She's not like Alfred-"

"They do share a bit in common," Matthew stated. "Al would have put himself in front if it meant he could protect someone. It wasn't just for him to feel like a hero, I mean that was one of the reasons but," he sighed. "I-I think he felt like he didn't have much to give."

Lovino quirked brow in confusion, "what do you mean?"

"I think he thought that all he could offer, that would actually make a difference was a body-a shield. That if it ever came down to him and anyone else, he would choose them. Amy has picked up on the same habit but she doesn't cover it up with the hero stick."

"How could she see herself as expendable though," Lovino pondered out loud.

"Deep down, I think we all do," Matthew gave him a knowing look, "to some degree."

Matthew realized he hit a sore topic when Lovino avoided his gaze and poured himself and Matthew a shot. Together, they clicked their glasses and swallowed the burning liquor.

Peter stood in front of a bathroom mirror, combing a hand through his damp hair as he grabbed a toothbrush. He continued to shake out his hair and brush his teeth at the same time with mild difficulty but everything came to a jerking halt when his vision was blinded by a flash of crimson. On instinct, he closed his eyes but it only enhanced the image of broken bodies, severed limbs and pools of blood. He squeezed his eyes tight and the image twisted, the red darkening and forming into a beast of claws and fangs.

He snapped his eyes open and was relieved to meet his reflection. Yet the pale complexion and dark circles were something that didn't go away, no matter how much sleep he got. Any rest he was blessed with was rudely, violently interrupted by an earth shattering roar and Toris drenched in blood armor. He would practically launch himself off the mattress, his hands curling into the sheets as a single thought haunted him: it was your fault.

Even if his spell was hijacked, he turned Toris into a cat and forced Raivis to keep his secret even though it would've saved himself and so many people heartache. All to avoid Lukas' anger; Toris later became a monster, Amy and Mikkel almost drowned trying to fix his mess and innocent people died because of it. Peter's spell was a beckon for Abigail to target them and her allies followed suite; wreaking havoc on his family and friends. Amy witnessed her uncle's beheading, three witches had died, and Lukas lost an eye. Peter shuddered at the image of Lukas, his left eye covered in clean, white bandages. He knew it wasn't like he had ripped it out himself yet he can't help but think that he forced this chain of events to occur.

Guilt and shame consumed him; he knew that none of this could be avoided but maybe if he had owned up to his mistakes and asked for help, lives could have been spared. He sighed, rubbed a hand over his face and spat out the minty paste.

Peter met with Raivis in the lobby of the Relais Bosquet Hotel, the pair took their seats on a plush couch as they waited for the rest of their group to join them.

"Make it out ok?" Peter asked.

Raivis nodded, "just got out before Feliks took the bathroom."

"Oh man," the blond snickered, "good thing you guys aren't big on styling."

"But we are going to Mr. France's party, we wanted to look our best," Raivis remarked, smoothing out the wrinkles from his burgundy sweater and the white dress shirt under it.

Peter had the need to fix up his navy blazer, "maybe we should go shopping, have ourselves a classic 80's montage."

Raivis chuckled, "and who will pay for this 80's montage?"

"Hmm, I'll make sure to swap Britain's credit card," Peter winked.

"No," Raivis pleaded and Peter reassured, "I was joking."

Raivis raised a brow and Peter added, "Really."

The brunet huffed in amusement and leaned against the arm of the couch, "did you hear anything from Amy?"

Peter swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, "no… she hasn't answered any of my messages."

Raivis nodded, "Toris said she wasn't feeling well."

"He didn't tell you everything, no one's telling us everything," Peter stated and then muttered under his breath, "and why should they."

Raivis turned to him, his brows furrowed together in worry, "Peter, you okay?"

He painted on a carefree grin, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Before Raivis could push further, Eduard and Toris walked off the elevator. Peter quickly waved them over, dodging his friend's meddling questions. They decided to have coffee in the lobby while they waited and as the hour slowly ticked away, the members of their group came down in small clusters. The last being his parents and Feliks.

"We are so late," Erik proclaimed as he rose to his feet.

"Oh, come now, isn't it the style to be fashionably late," Feliks grinned.

"There's also a thing called being polite," Toris remarked.

"Oh, lighten up buddy, we are making an entrance," Mikkel grinned.

"For once I'm in agreement with this brute," said Feliks.

Once they had their coats, scarves and hats on, ready to bear the snowy night, they headed straight for Francis' duplex. Their hotel was in the same arrondissement as the duplex, Berwald said it would be faster and cheaper to walk instead of driving.

Peter definitely didn't mind; strolling through the City of Lights during a soft snowfall was a beautiful sight. People were out, picking out spots to see the firework show that would take place three hours from now. Some were singing in the New Year with dated pop songs as they drank hot coffee mixed with vodka. It almost made him forget of his troubles till he saw Lukas sporting a white patch over his eye. The Norwegian must've felt Peter's eyes on him, for he glanced at him and Peter looked away; ashamed.

They reached the duplex within minutes, crossing the Eiffel Tower on the way. Both he and Raivis took a moment to gawk at the structure, ablaze with golden light.

The duplex was the same, every room was lit and filled the chatter of nations and the soft hum of music. They were greeted with a beaming Francis, welcoming them in with a smile and a place to hang their coats.

"We have food and drinks further inside, just head straight and turn the corner," Francis instructed.

Peter made a quick scan of the room, most of the EU was here, along with Turkey and Egypt in the company of Greece and Cyprus. Nations wore stylish suits and fancy dresses, but most were casual, so he didn't feel too underdressed.

He found Amy at the kitchen with Victoria and her sister, Camille Lambert: the independent city-state of Monaco. Peter gestured for Raivis to follow and made their way towards them.

"Wow. Clearly, I missed out on the sleepover," Camille smiled, revealing her dazzling white teeth as she flipped her long, dark blonde hair over her shoulder.

"You didn't miss that much," Victoria assured and then spun to hug Peter. "Seelie!"

Peter ignored the childish nickname, "hey Vicky."

"Yeah," Amy spoke to Camille, "just mindless gossip." Then nodded her head towards Peter and Raivis in greeting, "hey guys."

"Well you must come visit me Amy, I know this superb dance studio near where I live. I go there to practice ballet but it's only a hobby. I would just love to see a professional at work," Camille purposed.

Amy answered unsurely, "okay but fair warning, I haven't been dancing in while so prepare for some disappointment."

"I would never be disappointment in you, ma chérie," Camille grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. Camille's dark blue eyes lit up seductively, "Come to me for more details," she winked.

Amy blinked, almost stunned while Peter and Raivis snickered.

Victoria giggled along till she looked up, "Oh there's Erika!"

Peter caught Raivis straightening his back as Victoria pulled Camille to her feet, "Come on, you haven't seen her in ages!" She then dragged the taller girl through the room, leaving Peter and his friends behind.

Once they were safely out of ear shot, Amy grabbed Peter by the arm, "help me," she hissed.

Peter blinked, "with what?"

"I was introduced to like a dozen nations and I already forgot their names," Amy beseeched but that didn't mean Peter was going to make it easy for her.

"Okay, well the woman you just talked to is Camille and she's the city-state of Monaco," Peter smirked.

Amy narrowed her eyes, annoyed, "I remember her!"

"Of course, you do, she practically invited you into her bed," Raivis added.

She blushed, "shut up. I'm serious!"

"Okay, okay," Peter continued to snicker, "point them out to us and we'll tell you who's who."

"Alright," she scanned the room, "that guy next to Sadik and Gupta, with his hair longer at one side."

Peter and Raivis followed her gaze and found a tall, tanned skinned man with dark hair and golden brown eyes.

"That's Ibrahim Masalis, the Republic of Cyprus," Raivis stated.

"He's a polite bloke, not much to say," Peter added.

"Okay," Amy nodded and then gestured to Vlad and his group, "what about those two, the brunets."

"That's Aaren Hinova," Peter pointed to the taller brunet with pale blue eyes, "he's the nation of Bulgaria."

"Bulgaria?" she questioned.

"Google it," quipped Peter.

"The one that looks around our age," Raivis gestured to the darker brunet with red eyes, "is Marcel Lupei, the nation of Moldova and Romania's little brother."

"Okay, what are they like?" Amy asked.

"Well both are pretty chill," Peter stated, trying to rack his brain for more info, "Aaren likes anime, cosplays too."

Amy grinned at that, "that's adorable."

"Really?" Raivis raised a brow.

"Yes really, it's cool, you guys having hobbies makes you a little more-"

"Human," Peter interrupted.

"I was gonna say interesting," she added.

Peter rolled his eyes and continued, "Marcel used to be really carefree but he had a run in with Russia and has tried to be more mature after that."

"He's done better than you," Raivis teased.

"Hey," Peter shoved his shoulder, "anyway, he got his independence in the nineties so it took a while for him to start growing, but he's gotten to our height."

Amy nodded and moved on to a blond with pale green eyes, "What about that guy next to Bell."

"That's Gabriel Vermeulen the nation of Luxembourg," stated Peter, "good man, pretty funny but he's not much into parties. Kinda like he's brother; the two might have only came along because Bella dragged them here."

"Got it. What about those two?" Amy gestured to a brunette woman and a blond man.

"Those two were once Czechoslovakia, but they separated," Raivis informed, "The girl is Rae Horak: the Czech Republic."

"The chap there is David Laska: Slovakia," Peter added. "He's somewhat irresponsible."

"Somewhat?" Raivis huffed, "he forgot he was the host country once and went on vacation."

Amy laughed, "He sounds fun."

"I don't think you should get involved with him," Raivis warned. "I'm pretty sure that Czech still has feelings for him."

"Oh, please those two have been dancing around that sexual tension for years. I think what holds them back was their partnership. They fought a lot, supposedly," Peter mentioned.

Amy tsked, "The last thing I need in my life is more men."

As if the universe wished to mock her, a dark, handsome young man strolled right up to the American and offered her a flute of champagne, "for you linda."

Amy smiled, and to Peter's surprise, it seemed totally genuine, "thank you, uh," she glanced to Peter and begged with her eyes: help me.

Peter leaned in and answered quickly, "That's Miguel Avles, the nation of Portugal and don't mention the fact that he looks like Spain."

She didn't skip a beat, "thank you, Mr. Portugal."

"Oh, do drop the formalities," Miguel smiled and gently raised her hand to his lips. "I wish for us to be quite familiar with each other, Amy," he kissed her hand.

"Oh, I see…" she quickly glanced between Peter and Raivis, her eyes begging for rescue.

Peter jumped into action and pulled out his phone. He accessed Francis' Wi-Fi and with his Bluetooth and connects to the speakers. He swiftly cuts off the smooth jazz and puts on a Katy Perry song.

The speakers thrummed to the new beat and Peter cried out, "hey Katy Perry's on! Let's dance!"

"Yes, yes!" Amy exclaimed quickly, "Sorry, Mr. Portugal, you just can't resist Katy Perry, it's impossible!" She placed her flute aside and allowed Peter to pull her to the living room. Where the furniture was pushed back for a dance floor.

"Ah, uh, ex-excuse me," Raivis made a hasty retreat and chased after them.

"Thank you," Amy squeezed Peter in a crushing hug, "how the hell did you do that?"

"Heh, Francis asked me years back to hook up his speakers and Wi-Fi. The chap's never changed the password," Peter grinned, for once feeling like he did something right.

She slapped her hands over his cheeks, "You. Are. Brilliant."

The music slowed, preparing for the upbeat chorus:

"Turn it up; it's your favorite song

"Dance, dance, dance to the distortion

"Turn it up; keep it on repeat

"Stumbling around like a wasted zombie

"YEAH

"We think we free

"DRINK

"This one's on me

"We're all chained to the rhythm, to the rhythm, to the rhythm."

Amy began to sway with the music and drew Raivis in for a spin, "come on dude; shake those hips!"

"What hips?" Peter snickered.

Raivis jabbed him with an elbow and Peter laughed harder.

Amy cuts in between them, "Guys, guys, follow my lead," she gestured to her feet and stomped to the beat as the chorus repeated.

Peter was quicker to adopt to Amy's moves but Raivis wasn't too far off; together they danced in a line as Amy clapped and sang along. She had on the biggest, most genuine smile Peter had seen in days.

An hour later, they were panting as a sheet of sweat covered their skin.

Amy groaned and fanned herself, "ugh, I can't believe I let Francis put all this makeup on my face."

"Look on the bright side, drenched raccoon is a popular look nowadays," Peter smirked.

"Ha, ha," she dropped to the couch and glanced to the left, her eyebrow perked up curiously, "who are those people with Arthur?"

"Hm?" Peter followed her gaze and he grinned, "Oh that's Jett, Oliver and Wendy."

Before Amy could ask, Raivis informed, "Jett is the nation of Australia," he gestured to the tall brunet with pale green eyes and a Band-Aid over his nose. Then he moved on to the shorter brunet with curly hair and dark green eyes, "That one is Oliver, the nation of New Zealand and Wendy," he pointed to the girl with chocolate brown eyes and a one-sided pony tail, "is the micro-nation of Wy, like Peter."

"Another micro-nation, huh? What does that even mean?" she questioned. "I know you're not technically-"

"A nation," Peter said bitterly.

Both she and Raivis turned to him with concerned looks, "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah," Peter snapped, irritated with himself more than anyone, "I'm gonna get something to drink, want anything?"

"Uh, no-"

Peter didn't say another word as he retreats for the kitchen.

I turned to Raivis, "What was that all about?"

Raivis bit his lip nervously, "The micro-nations are a touchy subject for him. He and Wendy are the only ones left." He pulled out his phone and scrolled through it till he found a photo, "these were all the micro-nations."

It was a group photo; the people in the image were squeezed together, trying to fit all seven members inside. This was back in the day before selfie sticks and reverse camera phones. The ages of these people were ranged from young adults to small children. I recognized, Peter and Wendy, they were younger though almost had the appearance of ten year olds.

There was also a boy with strawberry blond hair, blue eyes and a large scar across his cheek. He seemed to be a year or two younger than Peter but they both shared the same wild grin. Wendy was on Peter's left as a boy…maybe a girl? Stood beside her; the kid had violet eyes and long platinum blond hair, woven into two braids.

The back row was where all the older, taller micro-nations stood. All three were men; the one on the left almost looked like Arthur except his blond hair was pushed back and he had a Band-Aid over his cheek. The man on the right was Asian; he wore a green military uniform with the jacket hanging off his shoulders. His dark hair was combed back and his eyes were covered with a pair of black sunglasses. The last member in the middle had auburn hair, green eyes and an uncanny resemblance to Feliciano and Lovino.

"What happened to them?" I asked.

Raivis sighed, "They disappeared. One by one they were just vanished."

"But why didn't anyone say anything?" I questioned.

"This was back in the late nineties and early 2000's and everyone was more preoccupied with your father. Also, it wasn't like it happened in one day, it was through the years till all that was left was Wendy and Peter." Raivis explained.

"Still, why didn't anyone question that?"

"Cause no one expected them to last as long as they did," he stated simply. "They were micro-nations, most shouldn't have become nations in the first place. You know that boy standing next to Peter? That was his younger brother Liam and he was an internet nation."

"An internet nation?" I said skeptically, "how?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "don't ask me, no one knew how it happened, he just appeared like all nations do."

"Then doesn't that make them a nation, I mean Gilbert is still around, and Camille's a city-state," I argued.

"Yes, but they're acknowledged as nations. Wendy is the only one that has come close but Peter…"

It clicked, "is that why he's so desperate to be established as a nation? Is he afraid that he'll disappear?"

Raivis looked to me with sad eyes, "Wouldn't you be?"

Peter came back and I felt the urge to smother him in a crushing hug but I knew he would find that extremely embarrassing. Instead, I grabbed his hand and proclaimed, "It's time."

He raised a thick brow in concern, "for what?"

"For you two to confess your feelings for Victoria and Erika," I smiled eagerly.

Raivis paled and Peter choked, "what-what?! No."

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Do it, or I swear to god, I will hug you and scream at the top of my lungs of how much I love you and cherish you right in front everyone."

"You wouldn't," he said with fear in his eyes.

"Try me," I grinned madly.

He was silent till he finished his flute in one gulp, "let's do this."

"What?!" Raivis exclaimed.

"Alright!" I glanced to the clock, "okay, it's gonna be midnight in less than two hours. I'll distract Vash while you two move in."

"You think you can handle him?" Peter asked.

"I think I can annoy him long enough," I assured.

Raivis rose to his feet, fidgeting with hands nervously, "we can't do this, not here-"

"Raivis it's now or never," I proclaimed, "are you with us?"

He glanced between us and sighed, "I'm gonna die."

"No, you won't," I said determined, "Peter, give me your phone I need to make a playlist real quick."

I quickly scrolled through his phone, forming a playlist filled with poppy, electro swing music. "Okay you guys have thirty minutes, make them count. Press play when I give you the signal."

I strut for Vash as Raivis whispered after me, "wait, what's the signal?"

I swung my arm behind my back, waved a hand and gave a thumbs up.

Raivis gasped, "That's the signal! That's the signal!"

Peter pressed play and I spun, crossing a hand over my neck, "not now," I hissed through clutched teeth.

He fumbled with his phone as he switched it back to the soft jazz and I sighed. How the hell did this happen? I was never the matchmaker that was always Jamie and Michel's stick. Oh god, I wish they were here; Jamie would know what to say to Vash, how to butter him up. Michel would be the perfect wingman for Peter and Raivis, would know exactly how to get them through this. I on the other hand was always a bit awkward when it came to romance.

Awkward? Try disastrous.

I'm not that bad.

Remember Lovino? How you practically ripped out his heart and stomped on it.

Mentally groaned, not now little voice in my head.

I stride forward and called out in my best Valley Girl voice, "Erika!" I tackled that poor girl into a hug, squeezing her tight, "I haven't seen you in so long."

I caught Vash rolling his eyes, "It's only been a couple of weeks."

"It felt like ages," I profound.

He rolled his eyes again, "no need for the dramatics."

I smirked, that grabbed his attention, "don't be such a grouch, Vash," I gave him my sweetest smile.

"Yes! Thank you," Victoria giggled, "please, Amy, get him to loosen up."

I took my chance and gave the boys the signal. Peter's action was immediate as Alice Francis hummed:

"Welcome to St. James Ballroom."

Her words were like velvet as the rhythm bounced from a slow trumpet to a quick techno. I clapped my hands excitedly, "I love this song! Vash dance with me!"

His eyes widened, "what?!"

"Yes!" Victoria called out excitedly and shoved him forward, "take him! Take him!"

I dragged him to the dance floor as he tried unsuccessfully to pull away but my grip was too strong.

I twirled him in a circle and drew him close but he stepped back, "Please, America, I don't dance."

"Oh, come on, it's easy!" I insisted as I crossed my feet and swayed my hips to the beat. "Da-da-daaa-da-d-d-daa-da-da-daaa," I sang along to the music.

Vash turned away and I snatched his hand, "just follow my lead." I brought him back and started counting as I showed him the steps, "one-and-two-and-one-and-two."

He sighed and reluctantly followed, "you don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"Oh dear Vash, what could you possibly mean?" I bat my eyes innocently.

"Do not play coy with me," he deadpanned. Then he slid his eyes back to the girls as Peter and Raivis moved in. "I know Latvia likes my sister."

I dropped the act, "Okay, yeah, but can you blame us?"

He raised brow skeptically, "what do you mean?"

"Hello? Trigger-happy Swiss. That's like the first thing I think about when I picture you," I stated.

"I'm not like your people," he remarked.

"Says the guy that brought a gun to a party," I countered.

"It was useful," he reminded me.

"Okay, true," I gave him that then added, "but I wasn't gonna take the chance of you not pulling out a gun on Raivis."

"What makes you think that?" he exclaimed.

"Trigger-happy Swiss," I repeated.

"I have control, unlike some people."

It was jab at me and I muttered, "I see why you don't have any friends."

He heard me, "I have friends."

"Your sister doesn't count," I smirked.

He grumbled in German, something that roughly translated to 'annoying woman'.

I grinned even wider, "I'll take that as a compliment."

"I'm leaving," he turned to walk away but I whirled him back to the dance floor.

"No, you're not. You are gonna keep dancing with me, whether you like it or not."

"I would prefer to keep my distance from you," he remarked.

That threw me off, "why?"

"I don't want to get between you and your suitors," Vash nodded his chin towards Lovino; who was glaring at Vash from across the room.

I groaned, "oh god." Then I reassured, "he's not gonna do anything."

"He can try, he won't get far," he stated casually.

I gave him a narrowed look and warned, "Hurt him and I'll break you."

Vash smirked, "well, it seems Italy is in the lead to your bed."

I glared and bared my teeth, "He's not part of the bet you pig."

"Oh of course, but I'm sure you would like to know who is and who started it," he offered.

I raised a brow cautiously, "why would you tell me?"

"Because I want you to go away," he proclaimed, "and if it was my sister I would prefer to know who to be wary of and kill the man who started this disgusting game."

I crossed my arms, "So I'm guessing you're not part of it."

He huffed, "no offense America but you're not worth the trouble."

"Good to know that you'll always keep me humble Swiss," I remarked coldly. "But I'm not going anywhere."

He sighed, "I won't hurt Latvia."

I glanced back to the group; Peter and Raivis were chatting with Erika and Camille but Victoria was gone. I did a quick scan around the room but she was nowhere to be seen. I couldn't think much on it as I turned back to Vash, "How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"I may not like the boy but Erika does," he admitted.

I perked up, "so you'll let them date?"

He laughed, "Don't get too carried away. I'll let them talk as I supervise."

"But you will give them space," I persuaded.

He gave me, you-must-be-kidding look and I sighed, "Then I guess you're stuck with me."

"Turkey," he announced.

I blinked, "What?"

"Turkey, he's the one that started the bet," he proclaimed. "Take this as a sign of my good faith."

I clutched my fists to my sides, "thanks," and headed straight for Sadik.

He stood beside a table, causally lounging with Gupta, Heracles and Ibrahim. He seemed so relaxed, at ease with the thought of using me for his own personal amusement and pleasure.

I strut forward, a million thoughts running through my mind as each step brought me closer to Sadik. Some called for me to slap him the moment I was in front of him; others, to punch him or kick him or both but that would disrupt Francis' party. He put so much work into this, I didn't want to ruin the night for him. The thought of luring Sadik to the terrace, away from everyone else and shoving him over it was tempting but then we would have to peel him off the pavement before anyone saw him.

I was so caught up in my murderous fantasies, I didn't realize Sadik was before me till he greeted, "Ms. America!"

I jumped at the sound of his voice but I was able to cover my surprise with a smile, "Turkey."

"By what form of miracle has taken place to allow us to be graced with your presence?" he bowed.

Gupta rolled his eyes, "layering it on thick, aren't you?"

"It can't be helped, I am in the company of a beautiful woman," he grabbed my hand and kissed my fingers.

Instantly, a cold shiver ran down my spine as the sensation of Abigail's lips brushed along mine. A new rage consumed me as I grabbed his hand, snapped his arm behind his back and threw him against the table.

Sadik was taken by surprise but he wasn't at all worried, instead he chuckled, "Now Ms. America I do enjoy it rough but we have an audience."

I didn't care about that, all I wanted was him to suffer, for him to fear me. My eyes slid to the fondue fork that was stirring in the cheese pot. Immediately, I grabbed the fork and stabbed his spare hand, pinning it to the table.

He howled and I leaned into his ear, "listen to me you vile, disgusting pig. I would rather fuck goddamn cactus before I let you or anyone part of your bet near me." I twisted the fork, ripping the flesh, "Call. It. Off."

I didn't bother to hear his response. I pushed myself off, leaving the fork in his hand and spun to meet with a stunned Heracles and Ibrahim but an unfazed Gupta.

I squared my shoulders, "excuse me."

As I walked away I caught Ibrahim say, "you're right, I do like her."

"Told you," said Heracles.

"Thanks for the help," Sadik hissed as he yanked the fork out.

"You deserved it and you know it," Gupta remarked.

Peter blinked, taking in the scene as Amy struts for the hall, exiting the room with an uncanny grace. A part of him couldn't help but be awestruck. Raivis and Erika were speechless, Camille seemed amused and Vash was unsympathetic.

Peter glanced to the blond, "what did you two talk about?"

"Oh, I just passed along some information," he simply shrugged.

Peter connected the dots, "Turkey started it."

"You catch on quick for a micro," he said, almost impressed.

"Vash," Erika shushed him but Peter caught the insult.

"W-we," Raivis stuttered at first but leveled his voice, "we should check on her."

"Are you sure?" Peter shifted his eyes between him and Erika, "I can go."

"No, no," his eyes glanced to Vash before settling on Peter.

He got the message and lead Raivis out of the room, giving a wave as they left the party.

"You know, you have to stand up to him one day," Peter added.

"That's easy for you to say," he mumbled.

"Oh, come on, what's the worse he can do?"

"He can shoot me in the head."

Peter was stumped till he said, "at least it will be quick."

Raivis narrowed his eyes, "not funny."

Peter smirked and scanned the hall, "which one was her room again?"

What Peter didn't realize was that he switched Amy's door with the parlor room next to it. It wasn't locked as he twisted the knob and swung it open to find Matthew and Victoria tangled together on the couch. Victoria was on Matthew's lap, his hands resting on her waist while her arms were draped around his neck. Their lips only inches from making contact before they jumped apart.

Both were flustered and blinking wildly as Peter responded with a dropped jaw and wide eyes. He was frozen in place; completely shocked and couldn't seem to understand how his legs worked again.

Luckily, he had Raivis; the brunet reacted quickly, reaching over him and calling out "excuse us," as he slammed the door shut. He then dragged Peter into a half-bath across the hall and locked themselves inside.

Peter's mind raced, displaying every exchange between the two. The memories now being examined in a new, critical light. At first it was small, fleeting touches here and there; it looked almost innocent to the naked eye but now Peter knew it was just the beginning. Those slight brushes of skin began to linger. Their polite chats became threads of messages and inside jokes.

Then, when Alfred died, it destroyed Arthur and both Francis and Matthew had to pick up the pieces. Sooner or later it had took its toll on the Frenchman and Matthew had to become the backbone for them both. No one was fazed by the outcome, Matthew was always the stronger one of the trio. Yet Peter noticed that he began to withdraw into himself, nothing big at first. He would avoid his friends and family with lame excuses till he escaped to a cabin in the north of Canada. He would spend weekends away but those weekends became weeks and soon months.

It wasn't till a year passed that the others began to notice, Germany then had to track him down and threaten him to come back to work. Matthew returned as a former shell of himself and neither Francis nor Arthur could reach him. Matthew had given everything to them and he was left with nothing.

Peter watched as the only person that even had a sliver of a chance was Victoria. Whatever distance he tried to make, she closed it. She launched on to him even when he pushed her away. She chased after him even when he ran. She searched for him in the dark when he refused to see the light. Victoria was a force of nature and wouldn't, couldn't give up on Matthew.

Slowly but surely, Matthew began to smile again, laugh again. At times, he seemed so genuinely happy and that was only when he had Victoria by his side.

Peter fell against a wall and slid to the floor, "I'm an idiot."

Raivis voice was soft as he reached for him, "Peter."

"I saw it Raivis, I saw it but I didn't want to believe it," he admitted, burying his head between his knees. "Why did I think she would want someone like me?" he whimpered through clutched teeth, "all I do is pull stupid pranks, pranks that get people killed."

"Peter-"

"I'm a kid, Raivis!" he shouted. "She'll never see me as anything else and why should she? Why should anyone?! I'm a kid! A stupid, stupid kid."

Raivis tried to grip his arm but Peter shrunk back, curling into himself, "I haven't changed. It doesn't matter what I've done, doesn't matter what I do. I can't… stop it."

"Please don't talk like that," Raivis begged. "It's been years, it's-you-"

"Don't." Peter snapped, "just-just go, please."

Peter didn't have to see Raivis' face to know that he hurt him. The brunet's silence was proof enough as he stood up, unlocked the door and shut it behind him.

Peter racked a hand through his hair, trying in vain to stop the tears yet they still fell. His emotions swarmed and whirled within him and he found that the already small bathroom was shrinking. Closing its walls inward, trapping him as it squeezed out every breath he could muster.

He leaped for the door and swung it open to find a drunk Gilbert.

"Seelie!" he grinned wildly and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "I saw Raivis storm off… did you two have a lover's spat?"

Peter shoved him off, "shut up!"

He didn't stay with the albino for long as he dashed for the exit, making a quick dart back for his coat before slamming the door behind him. He took the stairs two at time, nearly tripping on the last step when he hit the ground. He finally remembered how his lungs worked and took a deep breath. The cold air knocked some control back into his system but he couldn't stand the thought of being near anyone right now.

Subconsciously, his feet began to move, leading him even further and further away from the duplex. He wanted complete solitude, both from nations and humans alike and to his luck the pont de Bir-Hakeim was deserted. He stopped at the central arch of the viaduct, where a statue of a man riding a stallion stood in the center. All he wore was a helmet and a cloth that blew out behind him, forming a wing. The horse's nose was lifted high, matching the man's crooked sword as it pointed to the sky.

Peter walked passed the statue to lean against the stone rail, watching as small party boats passed through the Seine River.

"Are you okay?"

Peter jumped in surprise and turned to meet with the concerned eyes of a small girl.

"Uh, yeah," he stuttered for a second, scanning the area for an adult. "Are you out here by yourself?"

She nodded as a part of her dark curls fell over her shoulder.

He scratched the back of his head, "listen, you really shouldn't be out by yourself. You never know who could be out here."

"I could say the same to you," she retorted with a smile.

Before Peter could respond, the girl pulled out an aged photograph from her pocket. She held it up to him, "for you."

He blinked, confused but took the photo anyway. He flipped it over and froze; the picture was taken in 1992, in front of a park in Berlin. He knew this, because he had asked a local to take the photo for him and his friends. The faces of his fellow micro-nations stared back at him, all with happy, carefree smiles. Even Caleb who dropped his tough guy act for the sake of the picture but what made Peter's skin crawl was that each face (except for his and Wendy's) was crossed out with a deep red X.

"I believe its time," Peter looked up to find the girl's ice blue irises disappear into white light. "For you to join your friends."

Lovino desired nothing more than to slit Turkey's throat.

Antonio must've sensed this, even in his tipsy state he reared Lovino away from Turkey. "Don't Lovi, he's not worth it," he advised.

"But-"

"Shh," Antonio grabbed his shoulders, forcing Lovino to look him straight in the eyes, "go to her."

Lovino's eyes darted to the hall before sighing, "I don't think she wants to see me."

"Lovi, right now she needs a friend," Antonio advised.

He grumbled, "I haven't really been a friend."

"Then it will be the perfect time to make up," Antonio smiled encouragingly as he began to push him towards the hall. "Go, go, go!"

"Okay, okay, stop shoving!" Lovino explained, smoothing out the wrinkles of his blazer.

Antonio grinned, "Good luck."

Lovino rolled his eyes but he smiled either way.

He heads for Amy's door, barely avoiding Latvia as he stepped out of the bathroom and down the hall.

"Hey! Watch where you're going," Lovino warned.

Latvia was broken out of his thoughts and whispered, "sorry."

Lovino didn't think much on the younger boy as he turned his attention back to the task at hand. He knocked on Amy's door but received no answer. He called out for her and cracked the door open to find Amy outside on the terrace nursing a bottle of wine. Even though she was slouching against the rail and her cheeks were flushed red, she still had enough sense to cover up against the cold.

"Amy?"

She spun and grinned, "Lovi! How's the party? I didn't completely ruin it did I?"

"No. No, believe me, anyone would've done the same," Lovino assured.

"Good to know that everyone else thinks he's an ass," she took another swing from her bottle.

"Maybe you should slow down," he suggested.

"Maybe you should stay in your lane," she countered.

Then she sighed as if regretting her words, "I'm sorry, I'm not much company to be around right now."

"I can see that," he muttered.

Amy heard that and restored to sticking out her tongue.

Lovino smirked, "didn't your mother ever tell you not to make faces?"

She laughed, "There's a lot of things I've done my mother told me not to do."

"Should she worry?"

"Well, it's not like I can die, so," she shrugged not at all disturbed by her words.

Lovino's heart grew tight at her nonchalant tone and all he wanted to do at that moment was to wrap her in his arms. Take her to bed, comfort her with soothing words and hot tea and tell her that everything was gonna be okay.

Instead he settled for holding her hand and whispering, "I'm sorry."

Amy blinked, genuinely confused, "for what?"

He sighed, "for saying that I would choose you over Lithuania. It was insensitive and," he sighed once more, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I was jealous. He's your friend and I shouldn't get mad about you having friends."

She remained silent as Lovino continued, "In all honesty if I had to choose between you or him, I would still choose you. I mean depending on the situation of course, cause I know Lithuania can handle himself."

"True," she nodded. "If you're anything like your brother I would have to choose you because most likely you'll have your ass handed to you if I don't."

"Ha, funny… Alfred had said something like that to me once," Lovino thought out loud.

"What?" Amy perked up with new interest, "When? Why?"

"When," he pondered, "it was during the 1920's, I went to go work for him."

"Wait, but Toris was working for him too. So, did all of you live in the same house?" she asked.

"Yes. Lithuania had already been there for a couple of years so he had seniority over me. He was already helping Alfred with the automobiles so I was put on house chores."

"Oh, you poor thing," she said in mock sympathy.

"Hey, how would you feel when you leave from home for exciting work in New York only to become a maid?"

"Were you given a cute uniform?" she giggled.

"No. Thank god," he muttered.

"Did you ever do anything else?"

"Alfred did give me a chance at the cars," he breathed out a long sigh. "It didn't go well."

Amy looked worried, "What happened?"

"I blew up an expensive engine and… caused Alfred's garage to catch on fire."

"Oh my god," she laughed. "Did he get mad?"

"That's the thing, when it came to Alfred, he would try and find the bright side to everything," stated Lovino. "It was incredibly annoying."

Lovino closed his eyes, recalling the night on the roof of Alfred's home.

The garage was still smoking and the air was tainted by the pungent scent of burnt rubber and oil. He was murmuring every curse he knew in Italian and English, despising his very existence.

How could I screw this up?

This was his shot to do something other than laundry and dishes. He was finally out of the house, given a chance to prove that he was more than a maid. That he could do something worthwhile but why did he expect anything different?

He was a screw up.

He's done nothing right the moment he got here. Alfred's good quality dress shirts were washed with color and now were stained pink, no matter how much bleach he used. Then Lovino had mixed the cleansers and ruined the wood, which lead to Alfred having to replace his floors. Now, his most recent disaster was staring back at him; Alfred had lost his garage, his tools and his automobile, all because of Lovino.

He groaned, I should've never come here.

"There you are!" Alfred called out, almost excitedly as he wiggled out the window onto the roof.

Lovino jumped, "I'm so sorry sir! I-your garage-I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey, it's fine," the blond reassured. "Look what's most important is that you and Toris are safe. Besides, I know a carpenter that needs work and you've given me an excuse to buy a new automobile. That thing was falling apart anyway."

"You just brought it six months ago," Lovino proclaimed.

"I hear there's one that fits four people," he happily added.

Lovino shook his head, "how can you be so calm?"

Alfred shrugged his shoulders, "Hey, you only burnt down a garage, imagine burning down a warehouse."

"What?!"

"It was back when Ford was just starting out and if you think my automobile's engine was difficult, you should've seen the porotypes." Alfred chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, "Ford was not happy."

Lovino shook his head again but this time he carried a smile as Alfred continued.

"Look, I wasn't an expert going in. Neither was Toris, hell he blew up three engines, it's a rite of passage. No one knows what they're doing, everything is pretty much done through trial and error. We learn, that's how people grow."

Lovino sighed, "still I don't think I'm going anywhere near those things for a while."

"Okay, you got time, who knows maybe they're be easier to work with in a couple of decades," stated Alfred.

"So, is it back to cleaning duty for me?" Lovino asked sarcastically.

Alfred took a moment to think about it, "Hey, Romano, do you know how to cook Italian food?"

Lovino whipped his head around, dropping his jaw in disbelief, "The fuck kind of question is that? Asking me if I can cook Italian food? Of course, I can cook Italian food you dumbass."

He laughed, "Perfect!"

Lovino raised a brow as Alfred stood and asked, "Romano, how do you feel about starting a restaurant?"

"Hold up, hold up," Amy interjected, smiling, "you and Alfred started a restaurant?"

Lovino nodded, "and you should've seen the place he brought, that thing was falling apart."

"Here we are boys, Romano's soon to be restaurant," Alfred declared with a beaming grin.

The building that Alfred had driven Lovino and Lithuania to was completely worn down. The stone exterior was aged and the bricks were chipping. The windows were boarded up and the roof had a gigantic, gaping hole in the middle of it.

"What the hell? This place is a rat hole," Lovino exclaimed.

Lithuania sighed, "I would have to agree with him. Mr. America this is no place for a restaurant."

"Fellas, fellas," the blond wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders and shook them. "Don't you see? This place could be something!"

"Yeah, a home for rats and cockroaches," Lovino muttered.

"Come on, I'm sure it's better inside," Alfred moved for the door and snapped the lock with a flick of his wrist.

The American forced his way through, coughing out and waving away the dust that kicked up. "So, it needs some cleaning and a new roof but picture it!"

Lovino and Lithuania followed him in, carefully stepping around discarded boxes and fallen pieces of wood. The interior was no better; the wood had early signs of termites, the pillars had water damage and mold was beginning to form along the corners of the room.

Also, as if God Himself wanted to do nothing else but screw with Lovino, a rat the size of cat darted out of the building right between his legs. He screamed, jumping back to collide with Lithuania. Luckily the nation was able to catch his footing and straighten the both of them.

"Nope. I'm done. If you need me, I'll be outside," Lovino turns for the exit but Alfred rears him back.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," the blond begged. "Romano, just look at it. A gourmet kitchen, filled with top of the line ovens." Alfred spun him to the right, "dozens of tables spread out." He turned him back to the door, "knock out the brick and put in more windows, bring in some light."

Alfred swung Lovino to face him, "don't you see, it's going to be amazing."

"It will take a fortune to fix this place up," Lovino argued.

"I got money; besides once this place is up and running, you'll be able to pay me back in no time."

"But-"

"Lovino," Alfred squeezed his shoulders, encouragingly, "I know it will take a lot of work, but that's just how much faith I have in you. You're an incredibly cook and everyone will come from miles just to have a taste. I just know it."

Alfred's optimism was contagious, "Okay, let's do it."

"Yes!" the blond cheered. "Also, there's a basement, the perfect place for a speakeasy."

"Ah no. There will be no speakeasy in my restaurant," Lovino declared.

"Romano, come on, everyone knows that's where the money is," Alfred stated.

"They are also illegal," countered Lovino.

"That's a good thing, it can't be taxable," he winked.

"Besides Mr. Romano," Lithuania finally spoke up, "you are going to need a place to hide the wine."

"That's different," Lovino argued.

"It's only different if this place was gonna be a Catholic church, which it won't be," Alfred reminded.

Lovino brushed a hand through his hair, and sighed, "Why am I bothering? I'm talking to a pair of criminals."

"Hey, hey, we're only bootleggers. We just supply the goods," Alfred defended.

"Fine. But I do not want any other criminals in my restaurant," Lovino remarked.

"Uh," Alfred and Lithuania shared a concerned glance, before Alfred continued, "here's the thing Romano, some of the guys like Italian food. I mean how do you think I found this place."

Lovino paled, "you borrowed money from the mob?! Are you crazy?!"

"No! This was a favor they owed me," Alfred gestured to the rot infested building.

"Some favor," he grumbled. "I still don't want them here. If they even set foot inside I'll kick them out."

Both Alfred and Lithuania tensed, "no you won't," Alfred countered. "If you have a problem with them, you get one of us. We'll take care of it."

"I can 'take care of it' myself," Lovino proclaimed, confidently.

"Romano, I don't want to find you dead on my door step one morning. I like you too much," Alfred expressed, his face unusually serious.

A man's voice calls out for Alfred outside and the blond perks up, "that must be Larry with the floor plans. Just watch fellas, this place is gonna be the bee's knees," he grins as he strolls out the door, whistling a jazzy tune.

Lovino did another scan of the building, "I still don't see it."

"It's because you and the building are alike," Lithuania confirmed.

Lovino raised a brow, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Lithuania gave a knowing smile, "when people see a building like this; they just see how empty it is, how worn out it is. They only wait and see how long it takes for it to fall apart. Then there are people like Alfred that see the potential in it, that see what it could be and maybe even make it better than it was."

"Sounds more like you than me," quipped Lovino.

Lithuania didn't respond as he turned for the door but he did add, "don't waste he's faith in you Mr. Romano."

Lovino couldn't help but glare at the memory of Lithuania.

"So… you three opened up a restaurant and a speakeasy in New York City, during the jazz and gangsters days of the 1920's?" Amy laughed, "goddamn, I'd pay good money to see that."

"Well, I do have to admit, those were some good times," Lovino agreed.

"Is the place still?"

"It's still there, it's not mine anymore, cause well you know," he gestured to his youthful face. "But I did leave it in capable hands. I knew Monica wouldn't let me down."

"Monica," Amy grinned, "so there was a girl?"

"Oh, are you jealous?" Lovino teased.

She rolled her eyes, "yes, I'm so jealous over a woman that lived nearly a hundred years ago. How dare she put her hands on my Lovino," she laughed.

My Lovino, he couldn't deny it. He liked the sound of that.

He reached for her, caressing her cheek with his thumb. She immediately relaxed, leaning into his touch and humming in content.

"Come on, let's go to bed," Lovino suggested, taking her hand and leading her inside only to be met with a panicked Latvia.

"He's gone!"

Amy snapped to attention, "who?"

"Peter! He saw-he saw and his coat is gone and he won't answer his phone," Latvia continued.

"Wait, wait, Raivis what happened?"

"He saw Victoria with Mr. Canada."

Lovino blinked in surprise, "so those two finally got together."

"What?!" Amy screeched, "oh my god, this all my fault."

"How is this your fault?" Lovino remarked.

"I… it's," she groaned, "Raivis come on."

Amy storms out the room with Latvia behind her as Lovino sighed but followed them anyway.

"Peter!" I shouted, "Peter!"

"Do you know where he would go?" Lovino asked Raivis.

"The hotel, but I called them. Asked if anyone in his room checked back in," he answered hasty. "But no one did."

"Okay, then he has to be out here," I concluded.

"Amy, he's a capable nation. It would be different if he still looked like a child but he's a young adult," Lovino rationalized. "Maybe he just wants to be left alone."

For moment I agreed with him and the thought of returning to bed was tempting. Yet the twist in my gut warned me that something wasn't right.

"It seems a friend has gone astray. Whatever are you to do?"

I flinched at the childlike voice that seemed to come from nowhere, "please tell me ya'll heard that."

The look of complete terror on both of their faces was all I needed to assure myself that I wasn't losing my mind, yet. I spun around, frantically searching for the source till a small bird chirped; signaling itself out from a tree.

It had dark, royal blue wings with a white underbelly and piercing black, soulless eyes, "Do not fret, for he stays. Yet, he is blue."

Raivis was stunned, "Did that bird just talk?"

"Si, and it speaks in rhymes," Lovino remarked, annoyed.

I groaned, "of course it does." Then I squared my shoulders and demanded, "Do you know where Peter is?"

The bird nodded, "Hurry! For he lays. Along the Passy, and that, my friends, is adieu."

With those final words, it vanished, leaving me with more questions than answers.

"What the hell is a passy? Where's a passy even at?"

"Passy," Lovino thought for a moment, "did it mean the pont de Passy? If so, he's on the pont de Bir-Hakeim."

He pointed off to the distance and I ran with it, literally. I sprinted down the street, ignoring the ache and sting of my half heeled Lumi pumps as I turned the corner.

"Amy! Stop!" Lovino panted behind me. "Do you even know where you're going?!"

"I do!" Raivis came up on my right, holding up a phone, "we got to get on Rue Jean Rey, its right across from here."

"Are we really going to listen to a bird?" Lovino exclaimed.

"From my experience, the talking bird usually wants to help," I added.

The bridge wasn't too far from the duplex, it was practically minutes away. When we arrived it was completely empty, void of people and sound.

"This is strange. There should be people here; the pont de Bir-Hakeim is a hot spot during New Years, it has the perfect view for the fireworks," Lovino informed.

I didn't really care and shouted for Peter, walking ahead to reach the viaduct. The guys followed behind, both calling Peter's name till we rounded the statue and came face to face with Giselle.

My blood ran cold as the Immortal child lifted an unconscious Peter by the neck and hovered him over the edge.

"Think fast," she smiled and dropped him.

There was no hesitation as I raced off the bridge and dived into icy waters.

"Amy!" Lovino skidded to a stop along the rail and watched hopelessly as she dragged herself and Sealand to the surface.

Lovino racked his brain for a solution, "Amy, swim for land! Right here along the-"

He was cut off when Latvia shrieked, pointing above to a wave that was soaring towards the sky.

Lovino turned to the girl as she lifted her hand higher and taunted, "I did warn you Miss America, things are going to get a lot harder for you."

Her hand came down and the wave followed, crashing against the bridge and submerging Amy and Sealand underwater once more. Then with a snap of her fingers it froze over, the surface being completely covered by solid ice.

"No!" Lovino screamed.

He moved to jump off the bridge but the girl yanked him back by his blazer and hurled him to the statue. He collided back first against the base, his head smacking against the stone as he plummeted to the ground. He groaned, trying in vain to lift himself up.

"Sorry Mr…." the girl was stumped for a minute till she shrugged, not caring if she offended him. "Not Italy, but you don't get to play hero today."

Latvia leaped for her; his punch missing her by an inch as she ducked and stabbed him with an icicle through his mid-section. The boy choked on his own blood as he fell back, trying to put distance between them. The little witch wouldn't allow it and snatched him by the collar. In a blink of an eye, she formed another deadly spike and slit his throat.

Latvia dropped to the ground like a ragdoll and Lovino found his second wind. He closed the distance, swinging an elbow to meet with the back of her head. The girl cried out, landing on all fours but she quickly shifted to a hand stand, kicking Lovino in the face.

He cursed, rearing back as the girl shot out another icicle. The force of the spike sent him flying, piercing him through his palm and pinning him to the base of the statue. He clutched his teeth but it couldn't stop the agonizing bawl that crept out his mouth. Ignoring the pain, he reached for the spike attempting to rip it out but his spare hand was stopped by another spike. He didn't bother trying to hide his pain then, howling as blood streamed down his arms.

"Are you done?" the girl crouched down, staring blankly at him, "cause I have a message for you to deliver."

Lovino glared, "well you can take that message and shove it up your ass, you demon child."

She giggled, "I'm no child."

She coddled his face in her hands, forcing him to look her in the eye, "The era of nations is over for Iya is rising."

Then with a flick of her wrists, she snapped his neck and everything went black.

Giselle gave a tired sigh as she rose off of the country's lifeless body and shook out her dress. The blood that had spilled was already crusting away into dirt.

"Well I have to say, at least they don't ruin your clothes," she observed aloud.

Then she glanced to her watch and started the countdown, "ten, nine."

Her irises faded away as the image of Ella Chasse appeared before her mind's eye. The young blonde was hiding away in her kitchen, avoiding everyone as she drank from a champagne flute.

"Eight," Giselle continued as Rey, Edward's chimera stalks Ella from behind, his claws at the ready.

"Seven," she blinked and Ella and Rey disappeared, replaced with the nations at France's duplex.

They were gathered around the living room, raising their glasses to the clock and laughing joyfully. They swayed together with flustered cheeks as they counted, "six, five, four-"

Giselle cuts the vision short to check on Abigail and Edward. Both were at the top of a deserted Eiffel Tower, sharing a bottle of wine between them. Abigail swirled the liquid by the neck of the bottle and grinned down across the city, waiting in anticipation.

Her grin grew wider, "three."

Edward stepped forward; stretching out his hands as if he was an eminent conductor, approaching the orchestra, "two."

Finally, Giselle shifts her focus on Mara, who stood in the center of the Arc de Triomphe roundabout. She observed the traffic of cars and people, smiles and lifts her foot. "One," she stomped and the earth quaked under her.

Bulgaria: Aaren Hinova

Republic of Cyprus: Ibrahim Masalis

Czech Republic: Rae Horak

Slovakia: David Laska

Luxembourg: Gabriel Vermeulen

Portugal: Miguel Avles

Moldova: Marcel Lupei

Monaco: Camille Lambert

Australia: Jett Kirkland

New Zealand: Olivier Kirkland

Wy: Wendy Kirkland

Molossia: Caleb Shaw

Hutt River: Hunter Kirkland

Seborga: Giorgio Vargas (Nickname: Gino)

Ladonia: Liam Oxenstierna

Kugelmugel: Renate Edelstein (went with a unisex name and they pronouns cause I like the headcannon that Kugelmugel is gender fluid.)

A/N: I'm so sorry that is has taken so long. Things just kept happening; my cousin getting hurt, almost paralyzed then math class completely consumed me. Then work during holiday break. But then my brother's girlfriend lost her baby and he moved out. It was all too much, but I've finally got this done, hope you guys loved it. Let's hope it doesn't take me another year to update... haha... I mean was it a year? It felt like a year.