Ludwig explained everything he knew and what he heard at the bar. Feliciano didn't really want to believe that it was Francis behind this, that he's the reason his loving niece wouldn't come home. The Italian tried to think of every possible explanation that could lead to Francis saying things like what the German was describing to him. "Maybe he was just drunk and didn't know what to say, so he just talked about the first thing that came to his mind."

"How would he know?" the blonde questioned.

"You said he was with Toni, right?" Feli brought up. "Toni and Gil are still friends with him, and Toni came by earlier to see Lovi. Maybe he told them about it."

"Then how do you explain the fact that Francis is a happy drunk, and he was moping like the saddest man on Earth?"

"Maybe something happened that was bad enough to make him mope."

Ludwig raised a brow. "...The only time I saw him as a depressed drunk is when Gilbert decided to take him to the bar for his birthday. That specific date was two months ago, and his depression was justified with his guilt for his Revolutionary War." Feliciano didn't know how to explain that at all. "Face it." the German stated coldly. "Francis is related to your niece's disappearance, and possibly the rest of the Allies are as well."

Feliciano bit his lip and looked around before pushing Ludwig back out to the drive way. "You should go before Lovino finds you talking about that." he warned. "If he hears that, he'll get worse."

"Lovino has a right to know about his daughter's whereabouts!" Ludwig exclaimed, catching the attention of a specific stiff man. "If anything, this should give him motivation to leave that room! His daughter is missing! He can now possibly do something about it!"

"Feliciano!" boomed a voice from the top of the stairs. When the two men looked, they saw Lovino limping down each step. His face wasn't his usual scowl, but a look of determination, the fire in his eyes beginning to spark back to life. "Let him talk."

1pov

I was sitting on the couch with nothing better to do than read the loose papers on the coffee table. While looking around, I saw a paper about the Italians striking Africa. "Hey, dad!" I called. "What's this about?"

My father came running in to see what I was referring to before he sighed. "That's old." he quickly explained as he took the paper from my hands, crumpled it up, and mixed it with other papers on the table to crumple in the ball.

I grew confusion as he smiled at me awkwardly, making his way to the trashcan to dump the papers. "What was that all about?"

"Hm?" he asked, turning to me before laughing forcefully. "Nothing! Nothing at all. That news paper was old anyway, about a decade or so old." I simply stared at him, silently asking him to elaborate, before he smiled and made his way to the front door, putting on his jacket and holding mine out to slip into. "Now then, I promised we'd buy you a new bed set, correct?" With the subject dramatically changed, and me dumbfounded as I pushed my hands through the arm holes, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. I glanced back at the trashcan he pushed the paper into before following him to the car. Something really wasn't adding up. With nothing else to further my investigation, I hid my suspicions in the back of my head.

As weeks passed, I started to feel more comfortable in the house, accepting more easily that the blonde Brit was my father. The only thing that continuously confused me was the song I'd sing myself to sleep every night in the language I assumed was made up. However, I continued to see things around the house that said these horrible things that the Italians and Germans were doing all across the continent. When I asked about them, my dad would change the subject rapidly and direct me to something else like helping him cook dinner, or cleaning my room, or just running little errands that were usually of little to no importance.

"...Dad?" I called one day. "What is so wrong with me meeting other countries? Aren't all other countries like you?"

"ABSOLUTLY NOT!" he exclaimed, causing me to cringe. His emerald eyes grew wide and burned in anger. His large, black brows knit close together. His voice is what scared me the most though, an explosion of his bottled up rage, turning the peaceful silence into a silence I only vaguely remembered hearing. The silence that follows screams of pain on a field. I would've wondered where I got that idea, but I didn't spend much time on that thought.

After a few moments, my dad sighed. "...I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to frighten you." he stated. "Not all the countries are the same. In fact, none of us can get along for more than a year or so. If the others found out that I had you..." He then widened his eyes and snatched his coat. "I'll be right back." he promised, going out the door.

I stood there, in the living room, with my thoughts. "If dad meets these other countries once a month, why does it matter if I meet them or not?"

3pov

Arthur drove as fast as he could, not slowing down until he pulled up to the house of the man he needed to speak to. "Francis!" he called as he knocked on the door. "Francis! Please open up!"

The blonde man pulled the door open and sighed. "What is it, Angleterre?"

"It's _." the Brit stated quickly.

The Frenchman grew worry as the name of the teen came up. "What's wrong? Is she alright?"

Arthur sighed as he let himself in. "You remember when you felt guilt for what we did, and you projected that guilt when you got drunk?" Francis nodded. "Well...I think my acting is a little too well..." he admitted. "I know what we're doing is wrong on many levels. How can we call ourselves Saviors of the World, or whatever Alfred came up with, if we're committing the same crimes as our opponents?"

All the blue eyed blonde could do was sit Arthur down next to him and rub the visitor's back. "...I understand." Francis finally said. "I still have a filth covered continence from what we did to the Vargas'." he admitted. "However, we've been wearing this masquerade for far too long to reveal our faces now. Though this was Alfred's plan, you are the one burdened with the complete execution, like I was, and still am, burdened with keeping it secret from Gil and Toni. The decision is all on you on whether you want to stay at the ball, or run away. Either way, your shoe will be left behind."

Arthur glanced up at Francis with questioning eyes. "What the bloody hell does that even mean?"

"It means," Francis huffed. "if you think it's best to continue posing as _'s Papa, then continue to do so. However, if you think it's best to tell her the truth now, then the impact will still he edged in her, and she will possibly hate you, me, and Alfred for our deception. Though, I don't think that would effect you as much as I'm making it sound, mon ami." As the Brit stayed silent, the Frenchman smiled. "...l'amore~"

"What?!"

"You've fallen in love with la fillie, oui?"

Arthur pushed the other man away in disgust. "Are you barking mad?! She's only a girl!"

Francis shook his head. "Like they say in Greece, there is more than one type of love." he stated. "There's friendship, romance, godly, and family. In deceiving _, you have fallen for your own spell and have truly taken the place of her Papa. And so, you've fallen in love with la fillie~"

1pov

I wandered the house, my sense of confusion returning. As I really paid attention to all the papers in my dad's office, little things came back to me, like how I recognized the sound of silence after painful screams earlier. I saw headlines and titles like "Italians Advancing South", "Germans Move Restlessly", "Japanese Bomb America", and one that was a time-line of everything that happened in the current war my dad slips out about sometimes.

The last few things were dated a few weeks ago, right when I started my memory problems. "Italians' Treasure Taken", and "Italians' Treasure Won Over". It didn't seem like they did anything else after that, even though all the other dates were so close together.

I thought hard, trying to remember what it could mean by "treasure", maybe some gold or weapons that my dad took from them. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't think of anything that my dad mentioned, even by accident, that could be any type of treasure.

"...War or not," I sighed. "stealing is wrong. But how could I make it right?"

I thought for a moment before I smiled. "I could maybe look for the Italians and ask them." I concluded. "They'd know what big, significant treasure was taken from them, and who knows? Maybe it has nothing to do with the war, and maybe, even better, I know where it is!"

I deflated as another thought crossed my mind. "...But dad would be so mad if I ask him about this. He'd probably redirect me to the kitchen or something the moment I open my mouth..." I then gained a grin across my lips. "Who ever said that dad had to know?" I asked myself. "I'll just sneak out in the middle of the night, get there, and come back by morning. He'll never know I was gone."

That night, once I knew my dad thought I was asleep, I placed pillows under the covers to look like I was asleep in the bed. Once I got that to look convincing enough, I creaked out the bedroom door and slowly snuck past my dad's office, where he fell asleep at the desk again. Normally, I'd wake him up and help him to bed, but that wasn't on my agenda tonight. However, I had to enter the office anyway. I forgot that I had no idea where the Italians were, and there was a map on the desk under my dad's arm. I would've been worried about possibly waking him, but the bottle of whiskey by his left hand was enough to assure me that he wasn't waking up any time soon.

Gently, I lifted his elbow and slid the map out from under the arm. My dad made loud snores and shifts since I made the limb move, but he went right back to his deep sleep, mumbling under his breath something about conquering the Spanish Armada or something like that. I never paid attention to his sleep talking. When the map was in my hands, I quietly snuck out of the room after draping a blanket over his back, switching off the light and shutting the door. I hurried down the stairs as fast as I could and rushed out the front door.

I wandered around for what felt like all night before I reached the ferry. I would've gone to the airport, but I didn't have enough money, and I couldn't take enough from my dad without him noticing. Once I boarded the boat, it was only an hour's ride to the coast of the mainland. After that, I took a taxi from country boarder to country boarder until I finally made it to Rome Italy. According to my dad, all the countries live in the capital of their country, like how we live in London England. And, according to the map in my hands, the capital of Italy is Rome.

When I got there, I went up to anyone I spotted that seemed like they were locals, I even asked policemen. "Excuse me!" I called. "I'm looking for the personification of Italy. Do you know where I could find them?"

The officer laughed. "Personification!" he chuckled. "That's funny! You must be completely crazy!"

I sighed, waving the officer goodbye. "...Thanks anyway..." I tried again with other officers and locals, gaining the same result. It was like no one even knew that countries HAD personified counterparts! After a few hours of trying that, I sighed and just collapsed on a bench from exhaustion and despair.

"What's wrong, bella?" asked a local man as he sat on the bench with me.

I sighed, not looking up at the newcomer. "I'm trying to find someone, but no one in this city knows them. Hell, I don't even know what they look like. All I know is that the person I'm trying to find is...don't laugh...the personification of Italy, and some big treasure was stolen from them a few weeks ago." The man chuckled, causing me to huff out an exasperated sigh. "...I knew you'd laugh...everyone does..."

"No, it's not that~" the man stated. "The personification is Italy is me and mio fratello~"

I widened my eyes and finally looked up at him. He was a fairly thin man with a bright blue dress shirt and black slacks. His hair was fairly straight and amber red with an odd hair curl sticking out the side. Though his eyes were closed when I looked, the moment my face was in his view, his eye lids opened revealing the honey color they had. His eyes widened when he saw me, he even rubbed the orbs and looked at me again with even wider eyes. "...Bella?"