FOLKLORE
Introduction: England, You Fairy
larussophile
» Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
» Rating: T
» On Going(WIP)/One-off/Series: WIP
» Classification(s): Humor, Supernatural…Romance?
» Warnings: Violence, Language, Sexual Situations… in fairy tales!
» Pairing(s): This is all good, clean fun… but since you asked, France/England/Canada, America/Russia, Italy/Germany. Go G8!

England was sparkling again.

It had been growing more and more noticeable throughout Alfred's (heroic) presentation, but when Germany batted a floating spangle away from his face and Italy started trying the catch them, he'd had enough. He'd had seen that twinkling, glazed stare and spacey smile enough times to know exactly what was going on in Arthur's normally oh-so-straightforward mind.

With a perfect arc, the eraser hit the nation square between the bushy eyebrows, and a cloud of chalk enveloped his head. Coughing and waving blindly, Arthur bleated out, "Bloody hell!"

"Stop talking to your imaginary friends when I'm being amazing!" Alfred whined (heroically).

The Brit glared, rubbing his forehead. "They're just as real as, (cough) you, blockhead, and about (cough, cough) five times as (cough, cough, ah-CHOO) interesting!"

Kiku pushed his (fake but stylish) glasses up his nose and said without looking up from his briefing, "Yokai are not real, Kirkland-san."

"Yeah!" said Alfred triumphantly. "What he said!"

Arthur leveled a finger at other seven seated around the table. "The lot of you have (cough) no imagination! None at all!"

"I think I am glad, mon ami, that I do not have your 'imagination'," Francis said, tapping out his cigarette into the ashtray. "To see les fées everywhere, it makes you look, how do you say? Totallement bugfuck."

Arthur sputtered.

"I believe you, Arthur," offered a smiling Ivan.

"Er, thanks," said the nation.

"After all, eto pravina, shto people are still smothered to death by angry domoviye every year," the Russian continued with the same bright smile.

"Is that right...?" Arthur murmured, subtly edging away from the other nation.

"Then I'll tell a fairy tale!" Alfred said excitedly. "After all, I'm the leader!"

"Wait, what?" Arthur said, confused.

"I have plenty of imagination, and so do my people! We've got fairy tales up the whazoo! And since I'm the leader, I should tell one!"

"How did fairy tales get in there?"

"You need imagination to tell them, duh." Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Eigentlich," Ludwig rumbled. "Italy is."

"What?"

"His boss is the president of the G8 this year, ja? So Feliciano is the leader."

"Eh?" the Italian said, brought out of his own (pasta-licious) daydream. "What?"

"Oui, Feliciano, tell us a fairy story," Francis said quickly, thoroughly bored with the proceedings up to this point.

Feliciano blinked. "A story? Perché?"

"Arthur is being annoying. He says we have no imagination, and so Alfred wants us to tell stories."

"We don't have to tell stories!" Arthur interjected quickly, a pleading note in his voice. "Let's just get on with the meeting, shall we?"

Unfortunately for his attempt at salvaging the day's work, Feliciano didn't appear to hear him. "Ve~…"

"Go on," urged Francis.

Feliciano appeared deep in thought, curl quivering in concentration. His eyes lit up. "Ah! This one time, I made a bowl of ragù alla bolognese SOOO big that—" He was stopped by Francis's shaking head.

"Non, mon petit, a fairy story. Une conte des fées, tu comprends?"

"I could tell one," Matthew offered, softly. "My boss will be president next, after Italy's."

"Who said that?" Kiku stared around quizzically.

"I'm Canada," Matthew sighed, for all intents and purposes to himself.

"I've got one!" Feliciano suddenly exclaimed. "It's about a girl!"

"Oh?" said Arthur.

"She was una contadina, a peasant girl!"

"Yes?"

"Her parents were peasants too!"

"That's the least imaginative beginning to a fairy tale I've ever heard," Arthur grumbled.

"When she laughed pomegranate seeds fell out, and when she washed her hands fish jumped out!"

"Oh, I want to hear this," Francis smirked, leaning in on his elbows as Arthur gaped.

"It's called, 'The Peasant Girl and the Golden Snake'!"

"What does that have to do with pomegranate seeds…?" Ludwig wondered out loud, but Feliciano was already going on.

Author's Corner:

Should I include translations of all the foreign words? I like to think they're understandable in context… or not. Let me know after the next chapter. Yes! There is already a next chapter!