Warning: OCs contained within.
Diclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. If I did, I'd be very rich indeed.
Rating: K+
Note: This and the second chapter are on the short side, but it increases sharply in length after that.


"Tell us a story." One of the little girl says insistently as her "father" tucks her and her "sister" gently into their beds.

America chuckles at the little States as he asks the girls, "What kind of story?" He goes to the bookshelf by the wall, ready to pick out the well thumbed copy of the picture book they've made him read every night for the last month. "Let me guess;" He says with his trademarked grin, "You want this one, right?" He selects the small book from the shelf, teasing; "I bet you know all the words to it by heart now."

California shakes her head. "Nu-uh. We want a different story."

America replaces the book on the shelf, then turns to look at his adopted children. "Like what?"

"We want a Daddy story." Nevada says with a smile.

America chuckles again. "You don't want a 'Daddy' story. You want a story about heroes, or knights, or dragons. Or something." He finishes lamely as California's large blue eyes lock on his pleadingly. 'I'm going to lose this one aren't I…' He thinks.

California is quite stubborn for such a young State; maybe it's because she had fended for herself and her sisters for a few years before America had adopted the three of them from the young couple that had been raising them. California was an independent Nation for a short while and the couple that had found her already had children of their own. Raising another child who had suddenly appeared one day on their door had not been too difficult for them, despite how she seemed to age slower than their own children.

When America had arrived in the West during his war with Mexico, he had been drawn to the presence of the three small children who seemed to be ever-present around a certain family of the newly independent Nation. He had recognized her as what she was immediately of course; all Nations know when they find one of their own kind or similar. After having raised thirty other States before California and her two younger sisters, America was having less and less difficulty in knowing where to look for the young things if they didn't find him first, or simply appear on his doorstep like the first thirteen had.

He is surprised when California and Nevada then relent, and instead of pressing the issue of being told "a daddy story" like he thought they would, California says instead; "Okay. I want that one." She points to a heavily bound book on the shelf, and America lifts is up. He blows the dust off the cover, and as he reads the title his heart sinks. "The American Revolution" it reads.

"Girls, are you sure you want this one?" America asks, frantically trying to think his way out of the situation. "There are better stories;" He stops short as Nevada shakes her blond head.

"We want that one." She tells him resolutely. 'Damn.' America thinks. He's definitely lost this one. 'At least Arizona and the others are already out cold.'

States one, Hero zip.