Norway took a moment to glare at Faeroes. She shrugged, smirking.

Norway carefully sat down. He disliked having this much attention focused at him.

Well, what the hell. Faeroes already knew. And Greenland knew something. But first…

"One moment, please." He stalked back into the kitchen. There was still miraculously warm coffee in the carafe, which he poured into the biggest mug he could find. Then he found a bottle of scotch- a gift, it seemed- in the pantry. He poured a very healthy dose into the mug and took a drink. Now he was prepared.

He gathered what remained of his dignity about him like armor and prepared for battle. Children. Sometimes they were far more trouble than they were worth. Often, in fact. Why had he thought it would be a good idea to have so many?

"Ragnar, have you seen a copy of my will recently? Or ever, for that matter?"

He shrugged. "Haven't been interested."

Just as well, Norway supposed.

"Well, if you'd ever bothered to read it, you would find that, in the event that something happens to me and it is a time of peace, you inherit everything."

"Everything?"

Norway nodded. "You are the eldest of my sons that has lived with me the longest." He thought about it for a moment. "Though, I suppose primo geniture is rather old fashioned. Ingrid is quite capable."

Tormod coughed indignantly.

"You're still in your mother's custody, Tormod. It doesn't count."

Tormod rolled his eyes and went back to tumbling (on Tumblr, obviously; he's not that flexible, and he does not have the balance required). "Yeah, whatever."

"So, anyway, what I am trying to say is that I actually care for all of you." This was embarrassing. Why couldn't something happen to distract everyone? Germany invading, for instance. Well, he wouldn't, but in this instant, it might be helpful.

But alas, nope.

Blank stares all around. Tormod had even put his phone down, miracle of miracles.

"Look, I know I haven't always been the best father, or whatever, and I don't have an excuse for that. I got caught up in my own problems-" He glared at Denmark. Denmark threw his hands up in surrender. "- and I wasn't always there for you. I'm going to try to be a better parent. I have no idea how to be a good parent, though, so I'm going to need your help." All this was delivered in a very soft voice, with little emotion. And yet, it was fairly effective.

Greenland was about to make a snappish comment, but Ingrid silenced him. Apparently, as the eldest, she was the leader. "He's right. He's not the greatest person who ever lived, but that's just it: he's alive, just like you or I. And he has flaws, just like you or I. Don't you dare judge him for things outside his control. He couldn't stop the Plague, or the wars, or any of that. And neither could you or I."

She stood awkwardly for a moment, contemplating what she was going to do next. Then she walked over to him, and gave him a hug. "I'm sorry, Father, for what I said earlier."

"It's fine. I can't promise that I would have been any kinder, if our situations were reversed." Well, how did one deal with this situation? Children were complicated…

"You know, one of the things I remember from when I was really little was you telling stories. Do you still do that?"

"Yes…" Where was this going?

"Will you tell us a story? From when you were younger?"

"I suppose." Denmark was still a dead man for this. But he'd take it out of his hide. Preferably in private, and slowly, but he would get around to it.

In the meantime, he settled into the very luxurious couch, a replica of Sweden's "Congrats, you're a country (again)" gift, once upon a time. It was much more comfortable than he remembered. But then, couches made of insincerity were often uncomfortable.

He scooped Normandy up off the floor; he didn't like leaving her on the floor, not since she had started teething several years ago. "So…What story should I tell?"

Denmark grinned wickedly. Norway pointedly ignored him.

Normandy, with her fairly short attention span (longer than your average five year old, but still only about a minute in length) had started trying to catch the random floating curl that randomly floated around Norway's head. Even he had no idea why it was there, but he didn't appreciate people trying to touch it. (Thankfully, it was not at all anything like the Italy Brothers' curls. Because a things would have been quite different. A great many…) But he (mostly) allowed Normandy to do as she wished.

Still, he was a bit startled when she asked," Papa, where'd you get this?"

His cross-shaped pin.

"Well, that is certainly an interesting story Rather, a story in two parts."