Chapter 2


He couldn't have slept more than twenty minutes, and the phone was already ringing. Cyprus groaned and tried to get out of bed, only to find his progress impeded by a small, still-sleeping someone curled up next to him. North had, again—and out of habit, because Cyprus let him—decided to crawl into the same bed without a care for his guest room. Just as Cyprus had done when he was younger, with someone else.

Gently he moved the boy to one side and got up, stumbling across the hall to his office and regretting the fact that he hadn't kept every room equipped with a phone. He would have to attend to that later, once he'd blocked the number of a certain annoying Turkish man. But it couldn't be him now; the hall clock read only one-thirty in the morning, and yet the ringing hadn't stopped.

"Hello?" he mumbled rather incoherently into the phone, too tired to work out a more polite greeting. There was a pause, a crackle of static on the other side, and then a voice—a very familiar voice—whispered:

"Cyprus?"

His heart plummeted in his chest and he suddenly felt strange in a way he couldn't explain. Something like anxiety or anticipation gripped him.

". . . Greece?"

". . . Yes, it's me. I'm sorry if I disturbed you . . ."

"No, you didn't," Cyprus heard himself say automatically. But Greece was still talking.

". . . forgive the abruptness, but they had to change the location—of the world conference—because of an emergency. There's no one else available to host, and since you'd volunteered before . . . is it all right with you now?"

"Yes, yes. Of course."

"And—like I said—I'm sorry for the late notice. They're going to arrive around noon tomorrow, so . . ."

"It's no problem," said Cyprus quickly, but he felt empty inside.

Had Greece called him this late, simply for this?

It seemed as though there was something—something vitally important Cyprus had to say. But he just couldn't bring himself to say it.

"So how . . . how have you been?" he managed instead.

There was a short silence.

"Me? I . . . I'm fine." Greece's voice sounded slightly strained, unnatural to Cyprus's ears, even over the static. Why did the phone connection have to be so poor? He wanted to hear his brother's voice clearly, every change in tone, every word.

"I—I haven't heard from you in so long, you know."

"Don't worry . . . we'll see each other at the meeting, of course . . . Don't forget, it's starting at noon, okay?"

"Okay. . ."

". . . Thank you, Cyprus. I'm so glad I can . . . always count on you."

Cyprus closed his eyes and leaned heavily against the table. He stood there, very still and phone in hand, long after Greece had hung up and the only sound in the room was that of the operator's voice reminding him to end the call.

He stirred only when soft footsteps sounded nearby, and glanced up to see North's small form standing in the doorway. The boy's brown eyes, still tired with sleep, met his in the dimness of the room.

"Cyprus?"

"Yeah?"

". . . Are you all right? Who called?"

Cyprus tried to give a nonchalant shrug. "Just . . . just someone I know. We're having the world conference here now."

"Oh, okay."

"Yeah, everything's fine . . . Let's get back to sleep now."

But try as he might, Cyprus could no longer rest.

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The road to the Presidential Palace was already packed with traffic by the time Cyprus arrived on the scene with his car, North in the passenger seat beside him. It was mostly government personnel, who likely knew nothing of the conference that was to take place in a secluded corner of the building. But, thought Cyprus, struggling to change from one overcrowded lane to another, if this goes on any longer there might not even be a conference at all.

He sat patiently and waited, but to no avail. The long stream of cars before him wouldn't budge, and he really didn't believe honking at the other drivers was going to do much good. Besides, that would only lead to completely unnecessary arguments.

A few more minutes passed by in a rush and Cyprus finally gave up, pulling into a nearby parking lot and getting out of the car.

"We'll have to walk," he told an inquiring North, whose face immediately fell. "But it's not far—we can get there in less than ten minutes."

But the first thing he did was to take off North's Turkish hat and lend the boy his jacket to cover up the Turkish garb, despite the chill of the morning and the fact that Cyprus's clothes were several sizes too big for his younger brother. North seemed to understand immediately, however, and they set out accordingly. The air was cool and the sun was still low in the sky, producing a dimness in which the walk seemed almost unreal.

Cyprus felt North reach for his hand as they walked in silence.

"Do you think they'll mind me being there?" North asked suddenly, after a few moments. Cyprus glanced down at him, realizing he'd completely forgotten how it was at the conferences (many of which he'd skipped)—the other nations didn't recognize North and some of the small principalities at all. That is, except for Turkey, who just so happened to be North's guardian. A guardian of sorts.

"You'll be fine," Cyprus promised, and hoped it was true. "And I'll be nearby, so don't worry."

"All right," North said quietly, but his hand trembled ever so slightly, and Cyprus held it tighter so as not to let him go.

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"Ah, Cyprus! Is that really you?" a jovial voice called the moment they reached the western wing of the building. It was France.

"Yes—it's nice to see you again, France," said Cyprus, offering his free hand, and France grasped it warmly with a smile, barely noticing North standing nearby.

"Mon cher, it is not just 'nice' to see you, it is absolutely wonderful! Why, how you've grown—taller and handsomer by the day!" He winked, with an all-too-obvious look, and Cyprus immediately colored. He should have known this would happen.

"Oi, you wanker, let go of him!" commanded a louder (and much more rude-sounding) voice from behind them, as a blond gentleman approached and sent France flying with an almighty shove before turning to a frozen Cyprus.

"Oh, it's you . . ." England coughed awkwardly; evidently, Cyprus wasn't the only one who still remembered. "I haven't seen you very much recently. How are you? Everything going well? Government running properly? Not many local disturbances, I trust?"

There was the rather authoritative, bossy tone to his voice again, as Cyprus recalled vividly; but before he could reply England was jerked away by an angry France.

"What do you think you're doing, you bloody—"

"You're one to talk, Angleterre, ruining others' images like that—! Ow!"

It was futile to intervene, and Cyprus sighed, leading North to the meeting room and finding him a seat at the already crowded table. The combined sounds of lively banter and fistfighting made the air almost deafening, but Cyprus barely noticed. He scanned the room, looking about for a certain tall, brown-haired someone with green eyes, who was likely to be asleep at this time.

A tap on his shoulder caused him to turn, and freeze. There stood Greece, regarding him with a tired smile.

"Cyprus . . . you're here."

Cyprus tried to smile in response, although it didn't seem as cheerful as he'd wanted it to be.

"It's . . . really nice to see you again," Greece continued. "How is everything going?"

"Pretty well . . . how about you?"

It was as though they were little more than strangers.

Greece's smile looked slightly strained. "I'm all right. Just a few things I need to look after . . ." Cyprus knew very well what those 'things' were, and that they numbered more than a few.

"You look tired, Greece," he said quietly. "Maybe you should rest . . ."

"Nonsense," said Greece, but when Cyprus led him to a chair he collapsed tiredly into it, looking like he might pass out with fatigue. With a great effort the older nation reached up and patted Cyprus's shoulder.

"Thank you, Cyprus . . . you're such a good boy."

A strange ache rose in Cyprus's chest at the words. For a long moment he stood there, unable to speak, watching Greece and waiting for him to say more, just one thing more.

But the older Greek had already fallen asleep.