All of the reports said that the American troops were being mobilized. Moved from Norway, where they were only minorly effective (due to Norwegian Nationalism), back to America, where they were needed to stop the invasion.

It seemed almost like poetic justice to Prussia as he read the reports.

Once the numbers of American troops dropped to critical levels, his army could strike and liberate Norway- after liberating Finland, of course.

Prussia was still confused as to why that wasn't Denmark's plan of action.

The Russian troops on the eastern front were also being moved- south. Probably they would take up positions where the American troops in Normandy had been.

So, it made sense to join Denmark's army, and soon. From there, he could pass on leadership of the army to Denmark and maybe spend more time with his wife.

A knock on the tent pole made him look up. "Ja?"

Sweden entered the tent. "Ya r'dy?"

Prussia slid a handgun into his holster. "Yeah, you?"

Sweden nodded.

"Good. Ve'll need to sneak out of camp. I don't vant Hungary following us."

They left the tent and were almost at the edge of the camp when Hungary caught up to them.

"Prussia, where are you going?"

Prussia closed his eyes, sighed, put on an innocent expression, and turned around. "Hello, Liebe."

"What are you doing?"

"Um…" Why did she have to be so beautiful all the time? "Checking zhe…um…."

"You're going to rescue Finland, right?"

Damn. "Vell, yes…"

"Excellent. I'm going with you."

"Nein. Liza, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Nein, you aren't!"

"Why not, Prussia? I'm pregnant, not crippled."

"You're staying here. And zhat's final."

"Prussia, I can take care of myself."

"Liza, I know zhat. But please, I don't want somezhing to happen to you. If you stay here, I know you'll be safe." He gently pressed a hand to her stomach. (She was starting to show.) "Please, Liza."

"But-"

"Liebe, I promise I'll make it up to you," he said, cupping her chin in one hand, as if to tilt her face up for a kiss.

"Prussia, I don't like being left behind. Anything could happen to you." A single crystalline tear made its way down her cheek.

Prussia wiped it away. "Nozhing vill happen to me. I'm too awesome for zhat."

She smiled sadly. "Promise me that you'll come back?"

"Of course. I will always come back to you." He kissed her gently on the lips.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

He grinned, kissed her cheek one more time, and rejoined Sweden.

As they crossed the space between the two camps, Prussia said, "Sorry about zhat."

"I und'rst'nd. 'F 't w's F'nl'nd, I w'ldn't've l't h'm go, eith'r." ("I understand. If it was Finland, I wouldn't have let him go, either.") Sweden's normally stoic expression had become even more stoic. He was actually a little bit frightening. (Actually, a lot frightening.)

The sun had set completely by the time they got to the Russian camp. It was very quiet. Only a few tents were lit, and even fewer people wandered about. No one questioned Sweden and Prussia, though; a good thing, since it would not have taken a genius to tell that they weren't Russian.

They reached the middle of the camp with no difficulty; however, they reached a conundrum: which tent was Finland in?

"Sveden, which tent?" Prussia whispered.

"A l'ghted 'ne. H's 'fr'd 'f th' d'rk." ("A lighted one. He's afraid of the dark.")

"Zhat's very helpful, Sveden. How are ve supposed to check zhe lighted tents vizzout getting caught?"

Sweden shrugged. "I'll f'ght 'f w' n'd t'." ("I'll fight if we need to.")

Of course Sweden would. Though, if Prussia had been in the same situation, he couldn't deny that he wouldn't do the same.

"Okay, zhen, Vhere do you vant to start?"

Sweden walked casually over to one tent and stuck his head in.

"Oh, sorry, sir," he murmured in perfect Russian before walking to the next tent.

"N't m'wife," he muttered to Prussia by way of an explanation.

They did this about five times before coming to a tent that Sweden disappeared into.

A moment later, he reemerged, carrying Finland, as one might carry a small child. Finland had wrapped his arms around Sweden's neck and was sobbing into his shirt.

"L't's go."

"Ve'll be noticed if you carry him out. He needs to valk, at least until ve get out of zhis camp."

Sweden glared at Prussia, but he nodded. He spoke a few words in a language Prussia could only assume was Finnish. Finland lifted his head and responded, softly and in the same language. Sweden gently set him down.

C'mon, Pr'ssia."

Prussia followed them, acting as a rearguard to ensure that they weren't followed.

About fifty yards outside of the camp, they paused for a moment. No alarms had been raised. They had made it.

Prussia surveyed the surrounding area while Sweden and Finland had a whispered conference (again in Finnish). It ended with Finland standing on tiptoe, kissing Sweden on the cheek, then turning away.

"We should be going back to our own camp, Prussia."

Prussia nodded. "Let's go."

They made it back to their camp without incident.

Once there, Prussia bid Sweden and Finland good night and went to his own tent. At this point, all he wanted to do was climb in bed with his beautiful wife and sleep.

Sweden led Finland to their tent and made sure he was tucked in and comfortable before leaving.

"Where are you going?" a very puzzled and sleepy Finland asked.

"I…d'dn't know 'f ya w'nt'd m' here t'n'ght." ("I didn't know if you wanted me here tonight.") Sweden actually looked slightly embarrassed.

"Please stay, Ruotsi." Finland yawned and moved over, making room.

Sweden set his glasses down on the table and crawled into bed. He smiled gently when Finland snuggled up next to him, and he wrapped his arms around his wife, wanting to be as close as possible while they were together.