"Papā," Aria whispered creeping around the corner into Germany's room. She knew she would find her Papa in her Vati's bed, "Papā…"
Italy sat up and rubbed his eyes, "What is it bambina?"
Aria held a book almost as big as her to her chest, "Will you please read me a story?"
He grinned, "Si." He got out of bed and took her back to her room. Tucking her back into bed he then opened the story book. "Once upon a time there was a princess who-."
"You already read that one…"
"Ok," he said and turned a few pages to the next story. "In a land far, far away there was a boy whose name was-."
"You already read that one too," Aria pouted.
"But bella we've read every story in this book," Italy said. "Twice."
Aria crossed her arms stubbornly, "I wanna story."
Italy began to think then he had it, "Ok, I'll make one up. Once upon a time there was a Princess whose name was Aria."
Aria perked up, "Like me?"
"Si," Italy said nodded his head, "Princess Aria had a Papā who loved her very much. One day when she was all grown up lots of men came from all over to ask to marry her."
Aria stuck out her tough, "Eww, boys are yucky. Big Brother Sealand said they have cooties."
Italy gave a fake pout, "Do I have cooties?"
Aria shook her head and hugged Italy, "No you're my Papā, Papās don't have cooties."
"Alright then," Italy said smiling. "Now men came from far and wide to ask to marry Princess Aria. And every time her Papā sent them away. Because no one was good enough for his baby."
"I'm not a baby," Aria grumbled.
Italy continued, "That was until the prince from the neighboring Kingdome came. The princess's Papā challenged him to a fight-."
"No her Vati would fight, her Papā would wave his flag and give him pasta," Aria complained.
"Shhh, this is my story," Italy grumbled. "Now as I was saying, her Papā fought the prince and won. But the princess had fallen in love with the prince and begged her Papā to marry him. Her Papā said yes and they lived happily ever after."
Aria didn't have any more commentary as she was already asleep.
"Good night mia principessa," Italy whispered giving his daughter a kiss on the forehead.
A voice from the doorway chuckled, "She was right, her Vati would be the one to fight."
"Doistu," Italy whined, "it's not funny."