Icy Heart and Warm Love

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Kalda, are you going to be busy today?" Britain asked, looking at his book instead of her.

"Not that I know of," Kalda replied awkwardly, thinking about it.

"Good," he said, looking up at her with a smile.

"Why?" Kalda questioned, crossing her arms.

"Well, I have some very important guests coming over today," Britain explained. "Since France, America, China, and Russia have finally left my house, I can have proper guests over again."

Kalda nodded, understanding his plans and wishes.

"And who are these "oh so proper guests of yours" that are coming over?" Kalda grinned, using air quotes.

"Well-" Britain cut off, the doorbell on the outside of the house ringing.

He smiled, putting his book on the side table.

"And I believe that's them," he claimed, standing up. "Care to open up the door for me, Kalda?"

Kalda curtsied politely, walking up to the door and opening it.

As soon as she opened it, however, she was tackled to the floor.

"Artie!" a voice cheered, pushing Kalda to the floor in a tight hug.

"I think...you have...the wrong...
person....," Kalda replied in a strained voice.

"Oi, get off the wee lassie!" another voice demanded, yanking the first person off of Kalda.

Kalda took in a deep breath, clutching her stomach.

"I hurt everywhere," she groaned in pain.

Britain laughed, walking up to the three people.

"Care to help me up?" Kalda inquired, sitting up.

"You can get up yourself just fine," Britain replied.

"Here you go, lassie," the second voice offered, the owner of it being a tall, red-haired man with pale skin and green eyes.

He had his hand outstretched, and Kalda gladly took his hand with a smile.

"Thank you," Kalda answered, glaring at Britain.

"No problem, lass," the man replied.

Scottish, Kalda thought to herself in both triumph and annoyance. Of course.

"Sorry about that," the first voice apologized in an Irish accent. "I must have gotten you and this boy here confused."

"It's okay," Kalda told the Irish, green-eyed, pale-skinned, and auburn- haired male. "I'll live."

"You really need to stop tackling people," a tall, brown-haired, pale-skinned, green-eyed man scolded, looking at the Irishman.

"Sorry, big brother Wales," the Irish male laughed, "but I thought that it was funny."

"Tackling my friend isn't funny," Britain finally spoke up.

He sighed, shaking his head as he looked at Kalda.

"Kalda, these are my brothers Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland," Britain introduced. "My dear brothers, this is my friend, Lady Kalda Hush."

Kalda turned a light red, feeling awkward under the introduction.

He hasn't said those words in a very long time, she thought to herself. Come to think of it, nor have I.

"Aw, does my wee, little brother have a lady friend?" Scotland teased, putting Britain in a headlock and ruffling his hair.