What happens when you deprive LonelyPerson of her precious sleep? She comes up with weird crap like this story. Only more graphic. And it usually doesn't make sense when she writes it down. Actually, this doesn't really make any sense either.

We don't own Hetalia!

France scrambled to continue with the story. As far as he was concerned, Rome had just snuck up behind Germania and… yeah. But Italy had made it obvious that he was not a fan of erotic tales. How the hell does he survive with Germany and his hardcore porn? Speaking of which, I should ask him if he'll send me some. I can't understand why the ass wants to keep it all to himself.

"'Why, hello Germania, what are you doing over there?' Rome called out to the other man. Germania turned around, a grumpy expression on his face as usual. He held a sharp knife in one hand and a long, thin piece of wood in the other. At the blond man's feet, Rome could see feathers.

"Germania stood. 'Making arrows. These bushes provide wonderful wood for the purpose.'

"When Germania said 'wood,' dirty thoughts polluted Rome's mind. He was tempted to roleplay 'Powerful Huntsman and Naughty Prey' with his Head of Guard, but knew that Germania would rather offer himself as a sacrifice before he agreed to that kind of thing. Instead, he decided to simply press on with conversation. 'They seem almost as though they're meant to be used for a smaller bow. Are they for your grandson Prussia?'

"'Yes,' Germania repli-"

"Am I in this story?" Italy asked. Interrupting the story, yet again.

"No."

"But if Prussia is Germania's grandson and I'm Rome's grandson, and Prussia's in the story, shouldn't I be too?"

France sighed. "It doesn't work that way, Italy. Prussia's older than you, that's why he's in the story and you're not. You weren't born yet."

Italy looked a little sad. "Okay."

"'Yes,' Germania replied. 'He's growing slowly, and I want to teach him basic battle tactics while he's still a young child.'

"Rome noticed a small vial filled with yellowish liquid hanging from a thread wrapped around Germania's neck. He pointed to it. 'What's that? A love potion? I'd ask where you got it, but,' Rome flexed his muscles. 'The ladies are attracted to me just fine.'

"Germania rolled his eyes. 'It's a potion of sorts, a mixture of poisonous plant juices and various animal venoms. I concocted it myself. You dip the tip of your arrows in it, and it'll cause your target to hallucinate and hopefully die, even if they're just grazed by the arrow.'

"That sounds awful," Italy whispered. "How could Grandpa be friends with a crazy guy like that?"

France chose to ignore Italy. "Rome laughed. 'Oh, really? Hallucinations and death? My dear, that looks like piss to me.'"

"Germania's face showed no emotion, but he was frustrated. Rome was always downgrading him and discussing girls and sex when he should be studying battle tactics. Suddenly, Rome lunged for the vial around his neck. Germania lifted his knife, but Rome was still a strong empire at this time, and snapped the thread before the knife could so much as graze his skin. He popped the stopper off the vial and downed the liquid inside, intent on proving to Germania that his potion was pure crap."

Italy stood and took his now empty plate to the sink. He turned back to France. "Grandpa would never do that, he was too nice. I don't think this story is true."

France got up as well and walked over to Italy. I'd just love to bend him over the counter. "Italy, you're making this much harder than it should be. Please, I'm doing this for you. You wanted a bedtime story and I'm telling you one." France pulled a clean plate off of the shelf and handed it to his brother. "Here, have more pasta and listen to me."

France sat back down, struggling to compose himself, what with his sexual desires and irritation over Italy's constant interrupting. People do not interrupt my gorgeous voice. They listen in awe and attempt to figure out which famous singer sounds like me.

Italy sat, his plate loaded with pasta, and looked at France expectantly.

"As Germania had promised, Rome began to hallucinate. The colors of the landscape ran together. He could hear angels singing somewhere. Up ahead, he saw the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Tanned skin, wavy dark hair, a tall and slender body. He began to run toward her. He did not feel the jab of arrows under his feet, nor did he hear Germania yell his name. He began to strip out of his armor as he ran. Germania chased after him. Rome's-" France was not sure what the correct word was. "Skirt hit him in the face, and the disgusted blond man could only watch as Rome ran away.

"Rome reached the girl. She had not moved the whole time. He did not even pause to flirt with her. He just jumped on top of her and began to pump his hips. He didn't care that his dick really hurt for some reason; this girl was hot.

"Germania was shocked. Were the hallucinations so powerful that it made Rome start having sex with a tree? It appeared so. But the truth was, the poison had revealed marvelous magical creatures, including tree nymphs, which was what Rome was humping.

"After a struggle, Germania managed to pull Rome from the tree and convinced him to put clothes on. The poison was wearing off, and because Rome was in a way immune to poison as an empire, he didn't die. The poor nymph was traumatized. At first she had been happy to see a man running toward her. But he had raped her, and she could feel something within her.

"When spring arrived, she gave birth to a tiny thing. It looked nothing like her, nor her assailant, but she loved it nonetheless. She named the baby France, and the child spent his days frolicking among the flowers living nearby. One day, Rome came back to the spot where he had seen Germania making arrows that one day. He was looking for Germania's poison vial, which hadn't been recovered, when he saw the blond boy. Astonished that such an innocent kid could be on his own, he took him back home, to the dismay of the tree nymph, who he could no longer see.

" And that is where I get my natural beauty from."

France decided that that would be a nice way to end his story.

"So…" Italy began. "That means you're not really my brother? More like my uncle or something?"

Crap, I didn't think this shit through.

France stood, grinning devilishly. He touched Italy's face. "Why don't you just ignore the details and allow me to demonstrate just how attracted Rome was to the tree nymph."