YAY! Double-update! (And I know the anger is a little ooc, but I couldn't continue the story without Russia being angry)

A knock sounded on the door. Canada glared in annoyance. Hadn't he just sent everyone away? "I told you, Arthur, I'm not going to dinner!" he yelled. Why did everybody have to bother him?

Outside the door, Russia took a deep breath and England smiled at him. He was doing well so far, and that was more than England could have even asked for. "This isn't Arthur, Matvie. It's Ivan. Would you come to dinner with me?" Ivan glanced over to Arthur for coaching. 'Please' Arthur mouthed. Ivan glared, but grit his teeth and nearly hissed out the word. "Pleassssssssse."

"No!" Was the only reply that came through the door. Canada rolled his eyes. Did this man that had trapped him in his house actually think that he would go to dinner with him?

Russia threw up his hands in annoyance. Quickly, England rushed to his side, attempting to silently calm the giant. "But he's the one being stubborn," Ivan hissed.

"And you're the one losing your temper," England growled back.

"Fine!" Ivan snapped. "But if he's not eating dinner with me, then he's not eating dinner at all!" He began to stomp off, but he turned and spoke solely to Arthur. "And make sure he doesn't get into my garden."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but stalked off in the other direction to warn Francis of this obstacle.

It was a few hours later when Canada finally peeped his head out of the doorway. He was so hungry. He had been hungry when dinner was offered since he hadn't eaten all day, but he wasn't going to follow the great beast, Russia, to get it. He slipped out into the hall and stood, pondering which direction to go. He looked to his right, but shook his head. No, he had been from that direction and hadn't seen anything that looked remotely like a dining area. So, he turned to his left and headed deeper into the mansion.

He knew that he had an uncanny ability to remain invisible at times, and he abused it to his full advantage as countries that he didn't even recognize shuffled by him. So many new countries had been born as the world filled with very definite boundaries between people. Egypt, Australia, New Zealand, Korea, Djibouti… he could name their names, but wouldn't recognize them at all. There were far too many. Before he knew it, he found himself looking down over a great ballroom. It was gorgeous. He had never known Russia to have something so ornate. He had always seemed to be a simple man, even if he was frightening.

Canada headed down a set of stairs that led to the ballroom, looking around at the chandeliers and the intricate paintings on the wall and ceiling. "Wow…" he whispered quietly, but the sound echoed off the walls still.

"Amazing, isn't it?" a voice sounded from a doorway nearby. Canada jumped, but toned down his surprise as he saw France leaning against a gilding doorframe. He just mutely nodded his reply. "Arthur and I found this on our first night as well. We were alone with Russia at that point. He wasn't that bad, actually. We informed him of the mistake and he simply said we could live here as long as we found something to do. I began to cook and England just served whatever I handed him. Anyways, I was talking about the ballroom. Apparently, Russia used to have large parties here for his people. Then, as the czars faded into the past, so did the grand balls. I hear it was a rival against my parties in those days."

Canada soaked in the story along with the room. It was amazing. He couldn't believe that Russia had such extravagant parties. He was such a loner that it was surprising that he allowed people into his home for fun. Canada would have stood a while longer to view the room, but his stomach gave a rumble and Francis looked at him. "You really should have come to dinner, Matthew," he said, walking over to the shorter male. "Come; let's get you something to eat. I can't see a fellow country go hungry when I'm the cook of the house." And with those words, Francis whisked Matthew down a maze of long corridors to his kitchen. Matthew thought to himself as they traveled that he would have never found his way to the kitchen and then back to his room. He might still not find his way back.

Within the kitchen stood Arthur. "Francis, it's about time you came back, I've been waiting for you to…" he turned as he spoke. "Oh. Matthew." He turned scarlet as he spoke the words.

Francis chuckled, wandering about the room, gathering his supplies in order to make dinner for his lovely Matthew. "Francis, you know what Ivan said… As much as I love you, Matthew, Ivan said we can't give you dinner."

Francis rolled his eyes and continued his work. "I'm not afraid of that great buffoon," he said as he winked at Matthew. "I'm going to make dinner for Canada whether he likes it or not." And that is just what Francis did. He made a great four-course meal, stealing kisses from Arthur at moments where he wasn't working. ( "Francis! Matthew is right there!" "So, mon petit chou, dinner and a show." ) Matthew laughed and watched the interactions, thinking that he just might become more comfortable with the place if he had to be stuck here forever.

After the fulfilling dinner, Matthew sat, chatting with the two countries the he was most familiar with, besides his brother of course. He knew he was intruding on their time together, though, and spoke up, saying, "If it doesn't hurt your feelings too badly, I think I'm going to go explore. If I'm going to stay here for… quite some time, I feel as if I should at least be familiar with the place."

Francis nodded. "That's a fantastic idea, Matthew!" He had been eyeing Arthur's ass for some time now and this was a perfect opportunity to get him alone in his kitchen. Arthur readily agreed as he had felt Francis' eyes on him, but as Matthew headed for the door, he piped in, "Oh! But Matthew, don't bother Ivan's garden. He's not very appreciative of nibs." Matthew nodded, but didn't agree. He honestly didn't care what Ivan thought. If he felt so inclined, he would explore the garden.

Hours later, late into the night, Canada had found himself on a patio leading to a gorgeous yard; at least, it used to be. It was lit simply by the moon and stars, shimmering across ponds and fountains and falling daintily on begonias and pansies that were overrun by weeds. Matthew walked down a stone path, rounding fountains that weren't running, scum and moss covering the stone. He peered through the darkness at a bright spot at a distance. What could it be?

He tiptoed his way forward, a sense of foreboding settling over him. Maybe he should have listened to England and not come into the garden. The sparkling, though, was magnetizing. He kept moving forward, pushing past overgrown hedges that blocked his way. Sometimes, the bright patch disappeared behind another plant, whether it be ivy climbing up an archway or by fruit trees, but Matthew kept walking toward the distant goal.

Finally, he came upon that bright, surreal light patch. It was sunflowers. Matthew smiled in silent laughter. He should have known. He reached out, running his forefinger and thumb over the soft petals and letting them trail to the thick stalk of the plant. He was so mesmerized by the plants that he never heard the footsteps behind.

"What are you doing in my garden!" a booming voice sounded, shaking the windows of the house far behind him.

Canada jumped, spinning around to see Ivan directly behind and towering over him. "Maple! I'm sorry, I just…"

"GET OUT! GET OUT!" Ivan screamed, pointing away from his sunflowers and that is where Matthew ran. Out, as far as he could go, as fast as his feet would take him. He was sobbing and running for his life.