Due to popular demand, this story is now a Two-shot. Give a cheer, readers. Give a cheer.

"Oh boss~!" A voice rang out in Mia's ear. "Wake up."

The tired queen blinked groggily. "Who?"

"You sound like you just saw Canada."
"... I don't remember. Weird."

Rubbing the foggy sleepiness out of her eyes, Mia gave a little yelp.

Aimon was standing at her bedside, an light blush on his face.

"What time is it? Why are you here?" She watched Aimon through sleepy eyes. He sighed.

"Hm. I hate this part of my career. No one ever believes it."

"What?" The young queen was growing impatient.

"I'm not what you'd call 'normal'. You noticed it, boss. Royalty always does."

Mia stared at him blankly. He sighed again.

"I suppose I'll just 'drop the bucket'. That's what that idiotic American says, right?" He mumbled the last bit to himself. Turning back to Mia, he smiled apologetically. "Sorry, this has always been difficult for me to say."

She nodded, silently urging him to just tell her whatever he wanted to tell her so she could sleep.

"Well, each country has a; representative, I guess you could call it. These representatives, like humans, eat, sleep, argue among themselves. The difference is, well, they are the countries. They are the land. The people. The culture. They live for as long as their countries stand. Living for hundreds of years, sometimes thousands, their appearances hardly changing. I am one of these; um, representatives."

"So you're-"

"The Monarchy of Genovia." He bowed. "I hope you take good care of me, boss."

"Shut. Up."

After learning the truth about the countries, Mia's life was hectic. Well, more hectic. She was a queen, after all, and there was always a new law to pass or another meeting to plan.

Genovia, as she'd begun to call him, was a big help with the tremendous amount of paperwork that seemed to spawn out of nowhere. He followed her around, just like he used to follow grandma, and advised her about anything the country needed.

However, as she quickly learned, being his queen pretty much made her his official babysitter.

If his friend, Southern Italy (he insisted on being called Romano) came over and started an argument about their fruit preferences, she had to defuse it before their bickering started a war.

When France visited, she had to make sure the blonde's hands stayed where they should be. Groping caused problems with the economy.

During Spain's (who claimed to be Genovia's older brother) frequent visits, she was often forced to taste test odd dishes containing both tomatoes and pears. If she spotted them lurking by the kitchens, she learned to walk away slowly and pretend it hadn't happened.

And then Genovia decided to invite over all of the nations he was raised by/grew up with/fond of for a slumber party.

That pretty much translated into half of europe and a good portion of Asia and the Americas.

Most of them just wanted to use the infamous mattress slide the whole night, while others wanted to go bug the guards. Genovia seemed to be thriving in the chaos, and handed out pear-flavored treats to everyone.

It was still going strong when she crawled into bed. And it was loud. Loud enough to hear from her bedroom. Mia sighed before storming back downstairs.

"Yes, boss?"
"Bed. Now."

There were sounds of protest from her nation's guests.

"Aw, dude! I'm not tired at all!"
"Kesesesese! I'm too awesome to sleep."
"Ve~ I need some bedtime pasta first."

Luckily, she'd come prepared. From behind her, several guards emerged and began to glare at the nations in a way that just says "go-to-bed-right-now-or-you'll-be-pwned-with-our-staffs"

The lights were off within the next ten minutes.