Gilbert threw his phone at the desk in blind fury and moved away from the computer screens for a moment. He needed to calm down. Ludwig had declined his call, which for once, was actually extremely urgent and not just some piss-take! He huffed, gathered his thoughts, and moved to the microphone.

"Hey, squirt?"

"Yeah? What's wrong? What was that noise?"

"Don't worry," Gilbert replied, "I just knocked something over. I didn't set up feeds for you covering the entire site of the meeting area, did I?"

It was a statement, really. Gilbert had decided to set up a few extra cameras around the hallways and gardens of the building that the meeting was taking place in, for the sake of keeping an eye of everything that was going on. Prussia looked back at the left-most computer screen on the hotel desk and he bit his lip anxiously.

"No. I only have access to the main room and the audio." Peter answered. "Is something wrong? I want to know-!"

"Worst case scenario right now is that I might have to barge into the conference room and kick everyone's asses into gear..." Gilbert sighed, scratching his forehead as he thought.

Then suddenly, an idea came into his head, and he hastily scrambled through the desk's drawers, looking for a device he was sure he'd put there somewhere for safe-keeping. Peter asked what all the loud noise was, but Gilbert didn't pay attention. Eventually, he retrieved a pay-as-you-go mobile phone; one he'd bought in the preparation stages, specifically for emergency use only.

He turned it on and opened up the Messages function, before typing out a short, anonymous text and sending it to one of the nations in the meeting. Someone who wouldn't suspect it was him, but perhaps someone who will understand and care. As it sent, he sat back down and told Peter to stay quiet for a second, and he watched the central computer screen ardently.

Back in the centre of London, one of the nations felt a buzz in their pocket, which none of the surrounding personifications had heard or acknowledged, thankfully. Cautiously, they pulled it from their pocket and held it under the desk out of sight from the others, and frowned slightly in confusion when they saw they had a message from an unidentified number. They opened it.

'Rear gardens, centre of hedge maze, go now and go alone.'

Ivan was now even more confused. Someone, somewhere, had just ordered him to leave the room and go outside. Why? He didn't know if it was a trick, or if someone wanted to speak to him, or if he was just dreaming up something more exciting. Apparently he'd been unfocused for too long, however, and he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Wakey wakey, Russia." China said. "Are you really that bored?"

Ivan thought about the message, and shook his head. "Nyet, I am not bored... But I do need to be excused for a few minutes."

"Is something wrong?"

"This is Earth. Something is always wrong." Russia responded with a smile as he left his seat.

When the door closed, Ivan had left, and only nine nations remained in the room, Yao cleared his throat and decided to continue with the entries. It was why they were all there, after all, and it was already nearing the middle of the afternoon.

"So, the Magic Trio." Yao began. ."If anyone could take over the world (if they wanted), it'd be these three. England, Norway and Romania are powerful in their own rights and more than anyone probably knows, so it would be wise to respect them and what they do more."

"Hear that? Wise words from the book." Arthur said smugly. "So, the next time you want to take the piss out of what I do in my free-time, think twice."

"Or what?" China questioned out of curiosity.

"We are talking about stuff like the Ten Plagues of Egypt, mon ami." France replied. "Trust me, it just isn't worth it."

"Glad to see you've learnt-"

"If you want to make fun of him, insult his eyebrows or his cooking, or even his politics, oui?"

"I am so close to turning you into a midget, I swear..."

"A-Alright, let's not do anything irrational." Japan said. "China-san, please continue."

With a firm nod, Yao flicked to the next page and was pleased to see the length of the entry was nice and short. He was actually very grateful that the person who'd put the journal together had included things that weren't all heavy-hearted and depressing. Sure, it wasn't all necessary, but not everything that had come up and was yet to needed a great big personal explanation. He thanked them silently.

"This one is an observation too." he stated. "America, Romano and Italy. All three of these nations have an incredibly strong negative reaction to thunder. The sound will scare them more than it does others. For Romano, it is a reminder of Pompeii. For Italy, it is the sound of war."

"Well that explains a lot..." Ludwig muttered under his breath.

"Say nothing." Lovino whispered harshly. He didn't particularly want people who hadn't known to judge him or his brother.

"For both of them, it is also the death of their grandfather. For America, however, it is the sound of the gunfire that killed the Native Americans when the European countries arrived and colonised. It is the death of his mother."

"That definitely explains a lot..." Arthur commented, repeating Germany's own thoughts. "And yet, Alfred loves fireworks and guns endlessly."

"The thunder had always been there for him, though. He'd never liked it much as a child," Matthew began to explain, reminiscing of his own childhood, "so I suppose it became even worse for him. I don't know if he ever really got over Her death."

A few noted how the Canadian had neglected to mention a name and a pang of guilt and sympathy hit them hard. Some more than others, too. Predecessors were not talked of much by each nation, excluding Ancient Rome and Germania, both of whom were widely recognised and celebrated internationally. Of course, Ancient Greece and Ancient Egypt were famed in their own rights too, but there were others that were never spoken of publicly out of respect or sorrow. And China had outlived all of them.

"People handle grief in different ways," the eldest nation remarked eventually, "and that is something we ought to respect. Some people will need to tell others and have a shoulder to cry on. Others simply prefer silence and suppression of those memories so they can continue life as normal."

"Talking about it is good." Feliciano said. "When I talk about Grandpa Rome, I feel sad, yes, but it is a good kind of sadness. If all we did was stay silent, then the sorrow would destroy us, sì?"

"That was surprisingly philosophical-"

"And I do not really want to be destroyed by sadness. Can you imagine how terrible that would be?! Venice would probably flood a thousand times quicker if I let that happen! Think of all the people, culture and pasta I would lose!"

"Nevermind..." Ludwig sighed. "What is next, Yao?"

"An entry from France, it would seem."

"Oh? Things just got very interesting." Francis remarked, somewhat glad that something of his own craft was finally being read. Of course, he worried it was something horrifically embarrassing, but then, at least he could look back on it and laugh.

"France. July 25th, 1813."

"Oops..." France mumbled, casting a glance at both Spain and England. They clearly recognised the date too, but they did not react in anyway to Francis' surprise.

'Perhaps they are just saving it... For later...' he thought to himself. Though, he quickly realised how silly he was being; a forgive-and-forget policy between the three as people, not nations, had been made. 'They kicked my derrière, after all.'

"The counter-offensive campaigns in both Roncevaux and Maya were successful. Respectively, the British forces and the Anglo-Portuguese forces were defeated, we pushed them back, etcetera, etcetera. You know, I am still not comfortable with this war... Something tells me it is not right, and that perhaps it was a mistake."

"Tell me about it." Antonio remarked with a faint smile and head-shake. "Talk about being stabbed in the back..."

"You know that was not down to me at the end of the day, mon ami." Francis responded. "I blame Bonaparte whole-heartedly, the silly little man. We all remember what happened when he tried to invade Russia!"

"It still hurt, though... Fair play to England for actually helping me out." Spain said.

"I wouldn't call it help. Half my troops went AWOL and I have no idea why, and don't even get me started on the pillaging." Arthur responded. "Anyway, we oughtn't interrupt so often like this. It becomes tiresome."

"Hm, thank you, Opium." Yao nodded with a slight curtness. "After all, I have turned on a dear friend and hurt him and now I am fighting three nations I did not want to fight. Gaining territory is not an uncommon desire for us nations, but at what cost? If I do this and French territory expands to the Iberian peninsular, what are the consequences?"

France began to reminisce; he could remember writing that entry, sat in safety of the reserve lines soon after the Battle of Roncevaux had come to a victorious conclusion for his army. But he could also remember putting down the quill and staring out of the camp and in the direction of Madrid. His friend was there, he'd told himself, and if his forces made it to the capital then maybe it was the end of the bond. Francis would rather see his troops try and invade Russia again than lose a friend...

"I was at Roncevaux. I saw our victory. Thankfully, I saw neither England nor Spain, but I am worried that I will one day and I will feel the hatred and betrayal to no end. Truly, my biggest fear is that they will never look at me the same way, Antonio especially. I do not want to lose friends because of this, but at the rate we are going, I see no alternative ending."

France could also remember he first time he met with the allied countries from the Peninsular War a few years after, when Napoleon had been exiled and things were just very messy for himself. He smiled at the karma. It took a few years — time that did not soar by to begin with — before the personifications of Spain and France met together as people rather than countries, and they continued as if nothing had ever gone wrong. It was a bittersweet time.

"We are advancing towards Pamplona now, hoping to secure the city and push our front further towards Madrid. God, if you are there, then I ask that you stay with me and watch over us all as this war rages onwards. I will not see those I care about getting hurt, and if they are, then you will have to answer to me."

"I guess God did not want to face the almighty wrath of France and his baguettes, in the end." Antonio said with a smile. "He was a bit scared of being sautéed, perhaps?"

"Scared of being harassed, more like." Arthur mumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, I do not harass people! I merely give them my undivided attention because I think they're worth it."

"So we should call you L'Oréal, eh?"

"Matthieu, I find that offensive." Francis responded, feigning hurt and damaged pride. Matthew apologised and gave him a hug to make up for it, and they both smiled. "Alright, do you want me to read, Yao, or are you happy to continue?"

"I will read one more since it is short, and then it is all yours." China replied solemnly.

He turned the page as he was thanked by France, and looked that the name. It was about a nation not currently present, so he wasn't sure how he felt about reading it, observation or not. He wouldn't be too happy. But then, what Russia didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right? Besides, it was only a few lines long! China strongly doubted that it would be anything scandalous or invasive, so he went ahead.

"Russia. His love of sunflowers stems from several reasons. The way that the flowers follow the sunlight and chase it, however, reminds him to stay hopeful and resilient. It's like a motivation for him."

"Now that I did not expect." Ludwig remarked. "I mean, I figured his formidableness came from somewhere besides his childhood, but I would not have placed flowers as a factor too."

"I do not think the flowers are quite as significant as his youth, though." Yao responded, having remembered those years quite well too. "The Mongols and the Teutonic Knights — especially the latter — were defining for him. When he defeated them, he finally realised that he could stand up to the bullies. It's a shame, really."

"A shame?"

"A young nation being attacked like that, I mean. Sure, Ivan would not be who he is today because it made him strong, but... I feel sorry for him." Yao said sullenly, his mood certainly having mellowed even more. "As nations, we rarely think about the personal feelings of each other when it comes to war, fights or policies. It's self-centred, cruel and inconsiderate."

"We're all guilty of that crime." Arthur said, staring blankly at the table. "Each man may wage a war of blood, money or ideals, and the victor becomes shrouded in a veil of ignorance and denial, failing to see what damage they've truly done. Meanwhile, on the other side of that veil could be someone who just wants peace, support... A friend... And we deny them that right."

No one decided to elaborate, the realisation of their harboured guilt and shame silencing them. China passed the book to France. Russia breathed in the fresh air. Gilbert fidgeted nervously, and America said a prayer.

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Edit: I DIDN'T FORGET THE MAGIC TRIO BIT, SHUSH! (Muchas gracias, hermana... ¡Te quiero!) Enjoy the longer chapter :l

Please leave a comment letting me know what you think! Nothing means more to a writer than feedback <3