[Fanfic] Folklore (CH1)
Folklore
Chapter One: Sweet, Beautiful, Pure!
» Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
» Rating: T
» Classification(s): Humor, Supernatural…Romance?
» Warnings: Violence, Language, Sexual Situations… in fairy tales!
» Pairing(s): France/England/Canada, America/Russia, Italy/Germany, and a very lonely Kiku. Go G8!
» Summary: Looking to avoid actually working, the nations begin to tell fairy and folk tales from their native lands... rated T for violence, sexual situations, and explicit language---in fairy tales! First up, Italy.
( Read the Prologue)
Chapter One: Sweet, Beautiful, Pure!
"Why are we doing this?" Matthew asked, plaintively.
Alfred looked around, puzzled. "Did someone say something?"
"It's Canada," Matthew answered gloomily, but no one heard him.
An energetic Feliciano and a Francis desperate for entertainment, any entertainment, had seen them move from the conference table and into the anteroom, where there was a fireplace, hideous red Rococo wallpaper, overstuffed sofas and chintzes, and most importantly, the liquor cabinet.
Everyone took a seat and Francis poured (mostly for himself). Feliciano stood in the midst of the couches and announced, "Bene, bene, I'll start!" Ludwig put a booted foot on the coffee table and moved it out of the way as Italian twirled in place to beam at each of his audience members.
"C'era una volta, once upon a time, there was a young girl sooo pretty and sooooo pure that her parents called her Biancabella, Little White Beauty."
"What a horrible name," Arthur groused into his glass of port.
"La ferme, Angleterre," Francis said mildly, draped bonelessly over a loveseat.
"Your mum, wine bastard," he muttered back, but he was quiet after. Feliciano went on.
"This girl, so bright, so beautiful, she was the joy of her poor, poor parents, who had two older girls besides. But they were so poor, and so hungry! They never had enough money to buy rotini or linguine or macaroni or rigatoni or even orzo! What a horrible life!" Feliciano seemed practically driven to tears by his own words. "Ah, triste!
"One day, as they searched the forest for some berries, roots, the tiniest little nut to eat, the three sisters came upon a little golden snake. The oldest two, they screamed and ran, but la bambina Biancabella, she knew the snake meant no harm."
"Was she a Parseltongue, then?" asked Arthur, suddenly interested.
"Those are not real, either," Kiku asserted disinterestedly, picking a piece of invisible lint off his spotless uniform. He was drinking hot tea that steamed gently.
"Noooo! I'm still waiting for my letter!" cried Alfred, hands over his ears.
"Vos gueules!" growled Francis.
Feliciano wasn't paying attention to any of it. He crouched down as if to address the hedge-hog-shaped footstool. "'Dear snake! If only my sisters would come close enough, they would see you are harmless, and also very beautiful!' 'Clever child!', said the snake, 'For your wisdom, you will be rewarded thrice over!'
"'First, your sorrow will bring you riches, tears of the ocean and of the earth!'"
"The hell?" grumbled Arthur.
"'Second, your joy will sow Persephone's bane!'"
"Pomegranate seeds," Francis translated for a bemused Alfred, who sat with a Coke dangling from between two fingers.
"'Third, your purity will strengthen and nourish you!'"
"Nourish…? Ah, the fish," Ivan reasoned aloud. To no one's surprise, he had appropriated an entire bottle of Russki Standart and was courteously measuring out several shots for the assembled. "Amerika and ghost-boy, you'll drink with me, da?"
"No," said Alfred rudely, but when he was distracted by Feliciano's increasingly comic gestures, Ivan dumped rather more than a shot into his soda.
"And the snake went away," Feliciano continued, spinning as he wiggled his arm to simulate the slithery movements. "Biancabella went home.
"She arrived just as her poor, poor parents were about to serve their meager supper of one strand of spaghetti. So sad!"
"Er," said Matthew, to the sudden appearance of a third of vodka in his hand. "Just a… little, then?"
"Quelle dommage, Feliciano," Francis commiserated with a noise that sounded suspiciously like a swallowed laugh; Feliciano didn't catch it, but Ludwig, sitting ramrod straight on his short pink ottoman, glared at him.
"The sensitive and beautiful Biancabella wept at the thought of her family so hungry, so poor! But her tears turned to pearls and silver on her cheeks, and all the family marveled!"
"How odd," murmured Kiku.
"She laughed in surprise, and pomegranate seeds fell out and sprouted in the floor, making beautiful trees!"
"Awesome!" exclaimed Alfred. He took a healthy swig from his bottle.
"And she went to wash her hands in the basin for their meager dinner, and fish splashed out onto the floor!"
"How nice. Za skaskikh!" said Ivan with his serene smile, and knocked his glass with Matthew's.
"Her family was overjoyed! Now, they could eat their fill!"
"Uh, zaskakih...?" Matthew repeated, dubiously. He swallowed with a pained expression. Ivan refilled his glass immediately.
"Are you sure you will not drink with us, tovarish?" Ivan asked Alfred solicitously as he poured. Two thirds of the Coke was gone, and the American's cheeks were becoming suspiciously pink.
"No, thanzz. Thanks."
Ivan smiled wider. "Nu, tak hochish'."
"Of course, such a beautiful, miraculous maiden could not remain a secret for long. Her family grew rich, and soon, all flocked to see her. One day, word reached the family that the prince himself wished to meet the beautiful Biancabella! She of course agreed to this." Feliciano nodded emphatically, but then his face dropped and his voice quavered. "Ve~, but her beautiful heart could not see the growing envy of her sisters. She was made even kinder by her good fortune, but their envy made them ten thousand times worse. So envious were they that when the prince appeared at their cottage they locked poor, poor Biancabella in the attic! Ah, so sad!"
"Ach, traurig," agreed Ludwig.
"The attic was piled with pearls, awash with silver, for Biancabella so did want to see the prince! She peered out the tiny attic window to watch for him. When he came, he was so splendidly arrayed in gold and jewels, on a white horse with bells on its bridle, that she forgot her tears and laughed with wonder."
"A bit bipolar, eh bien?" Francis mused.
"There grew immediately beautiful trees below the attic window. The prince was amazed, and asked which of the sisters had done such a marvelous thing. Prideful, wicked, they each claimed that they had done it. The prince said to them, 'Well, may the one who laughs these seeds take from these trees their fruit.' Neither of the sisters could touch the branches, let alone the fruit, no matter how they tried. The prince grew angry and said, 'If none can harvest the fruit, let these two then lose their lying heads!'
"Biancobella, sweet, pure, called from her attic prison, 'Oh no, good sir, spare my sisters and I will gladly give you the fruit, the fruit of the trees.' The prince ordered her released, and the wicked sisters watched as the prince ate of the fruit that Biancabella, sweet Biancabella, plucked for him."
"Za Biancabelli!" Ivan toasted cheerfully.
Matthew took the shot, wincing as it burned all the way to his stomach. He watched with something like horror as more vodka was surreptitiously tipped into his brother's unattended soda.
"He ate of the fruit and proposed marriage to her, to sweet Biancabella! Oh how her sisters envied her, oh how they hated her!"
"I hate her," mumbled into the glass of port.
Francis sniffed. "And how do you think, mon cher Angleterre, that the rest of us feel when you insist on being made godparent to your unicorn's children in the middle of a meeting?"
"That was an emergency! Cherrybright said that-"
A firm kick to the underside of his chaise nearly unseated him, and Arthur turned to glare at Ludwig, who was paying rapt attention to the increasing wild movements of the mendicant Italian.
"As the bride-to-be, the expectant bride prepared for her wedding feast, her sisters grabbed her! They took her to the woods! And there, they cut out her eyes and chopped off her hands, and left her alone in the forest!" Feliciano burst into tears. "Ah, tristissimo!"
Even Kiku blinked at the last details. "Genni? Her hands?"
Ludwig patted the sobbing Italian very awkwardly on the back; his own eyes were suspiciously shiny. To his obvious disconcertion, Feliciano jumped into his lap and wailed, "To be so wronged by your own blood siblings! She cried and cried at being left alone in the dark forest-"
"And not at having her hanz cut off?" Alfred slurred. He took another swig of the Coke, smacked his lips a bit, and turned to scowl at the bottle, wondering through a thickening haze why it tasted more and more like rubbing alcohol.
Sobbed into Ludwig's shirt, "-and her eldest sister was wed by trickery and deceit to her prince, her groom!" Feliciano lifted his head, lips trembling. "And Biancabella might have died in the forest if not for the snake, the harmless and beautiful golden snake which had blessed her. The snake came upon her and exclaimed, 'My poor, beautiful child! What has happened to you!' And Biancabella explained it all.
"As the snake nursed her back to health in the forest, the eldest sister became pregnant with the prince's child."
"My, tellement scandalous!" said Francis.
"He honestly didn't notice it wasn't the same sister?" Arthur asked skeptically.
The Italian sniffled. He had stopped crying, but, one couldn't help but notice, showed no signs of climbing out of an increasingly uncomfortable-looking Ludwig's lap.
"It became known that the eldest sister, the new princess craved figs above all else, but the season was wrong and she wasted away in her craving. The golden snake hatched a plan, and transformed herself into una venditore, a peddler-woman. She brought fresh, ripe, glistening figs to the palace and cried, 'Figs for sale, figs for sale!' The eldest sister came to the window and said, 'Oh, oh, for a single fig I would pay thousands of gold pieces.' 'I only take payment in eyes', said the peddler-woman. The eldest sister remembered the eyes of the beautiful Biancabella, which she had cut out and put in her pocket, and gave these to the peddler-woman."
"Ergh, thazz disgusting!"
Feliciano shook his head vehemently. "Ve~, America, but the snake took the eyes back to Biancabella and put them back in and she could see again!"
"Thazz e'en MORE disguzting!"
Feliciano had grabbed Ludwig's hands and crossed them in front of himself, so that the tall German was effectively embracing him. He snuggled back and the German nation gave an embarrassed little cough. "Ah, Feliciano-"
"Then, the eldest sister began to crave peaches!" The Italian said, firmly overriding him. "These, too, were out of season. The snake once again left Biancabella in the forest and went to the palace with a bushel of fresh, ripe, glistening peaches and cried, 'Peaches for sale, peaches for sale!' The eldest sister came to the window and said, 'Oh, oh, for a single peach I would pay thousands of gold pieces.' 'I only take payment in hands', said the peddler-woman."
"Were the hands in her other pocket?" Arthur asked.
"How did you know?" exclaimed Feliciano, surprised.
"A wild guess. Let me make another-the sister gives this woman the hands for the peaches, and the snake-woman magically restores them to the sweet, lovely, beautiful, pure, kind Biancabella?"
"Just so!"
"I thought so. Then what?"
Francis looked at him in surprise. "Arthur, do you actually want to know?"
The nation threw up his hands. The forgotten glass of port, half-full, splashed down the back of the chaise. "No! I don't! I want to be working on our proposal, which is due in two days! The sooner he finishes, the better."
"You'll be needing more wine, je vois," Francis observed with a smirk.
"Hmm? Didn't I just…?"
Kiku, directly behind him, looked down at the maroon spotting his white pants and began planning genocide.
"Biancabella was restored! The eldest sister gave birth to the prince's child, but it was a scorpion."
"Okay, that's really weird," muttered Matthew.
"Hmmm? Who was that?" said Feliciano.
"Za svad'bi!"
"It's Canada," he sighed into his third shot, and took it.
"Bene, nevertheless, the prince held a ball. The golden snake told Biancabella that they would attend as narratrices. The beautiful Biancabella played and sang as beautifully as she did everything, and soon they two were asked to perform at the prince's table."
"And he still didn't recognize her?"
"No, non fanno mai," Feliciano shrugged. "She sang the song of her own fate." Feliciano began to sing, something wavering and barely melodic. Arthur resolutely clapped his hands over his ears.
"There was a girl
A peasant girl
Who was blessed by riches three
Pearls and silver
Seeds and plenty
Food and plenty
Was she blessed with.
Envy struck her
Pluck'd her eyes
And took her hands
And left her in the forest.
Envy has taken her place
In the palace, in the bed
And Envy has born only evil
From her womb.
"The snake-narratrice asked the eldest sister what should be done to this envious person who had so wronged the peasant girl. The sister, not recognizing her own face in Envy-"
"Oh, now really?"
"-pronounced immediately that the envious one was must suffer the same fate, that is, must have her eyes plucked and hands taken and must be left in the forest. The snake stood to her full height, revealed herself as a great enchantress!" Feliciano shot up from his perch on Ludwig's knee and struck the other nation squarely in the jaw; he keeled back off the ottoman onto the floor. Feliciano, not noticing, stood on tiptoes and waved his arms vigorously.
"And the enchantress said, 'Lo, it must be so! Behold Biancabella, the prince's true bride!' And Biancabella was suddenly dressed in costly garments, in ermine and silk and cloth-of-gold!"
"That does sound costly," agreed Francis, watching the snow fall past the window.
"And then- ve, Doitsu, why are you on the ground?"
From his position on the floor, Ludwig made a vague waving motion and groaned, "Ich bin… gut…"
"Eh, va bene… Biancabella, the beautiful Biancabella, laughed and cried and soon the room was full of pearls and pomegranates!"
"Delightful," Kiku muttered. He had a protractor out and was busily drawing something that on close inspection looked like an army of killer robots converging on one lone figure in a pirate hat.
"The prince knew then that this was his true bride! He immediately ordered the sentence the false bride, the eldest sister had delivered on herself, to be carried out! But Biancabella, pure, kind Biancabella, stayed his hand. 'Even though she has done these things, I cannot do the same,' she said to him."
"What a pure girl," said Ludwig, leaning up on the ottoman with sincere admiration in his eyes. Feliciano patted his head.
"The eldest sister was only banished, with her scorpion son. And Biancabella and the prince were married e vissero tutti felici e contenti!"
"'Happily ever after'," Francis translated. "Quelle belle conte, Feliciano."
Arthur perked up from where he'd let his head droop against the high back of his chair. "Is he done? Can we go back to the meeting?"
Francis took a survey of the assembled. Feliciano was crouched by the German brute, who was still on the floor, chattering animatedly. Alfred was swaying a bit in place, which was strange, as he was sure that he'd only given him that wretched cola he liked so much. Ivan was creepily happy, as usual. Kiku was drawing something furiously, and had taken out a red pen to… hmmm. Angleterre was scowling at him.
That was odd… there were eight of them, weren't there? This was a G8-sponsored meeting, after all. So who…?
"Ah, cher Mathieu! When did you get here?"
At this, Arthur sat up and turned around. "What? Matthew?"
The rosy-cheeked, teary-eyed face of his favorite nation looked up at him with the most endearing expression of sad resignation. "I've been here the whole time."
"Why are you sitting on the floor?" Arthur asked him.
"Because no one left a seat for me…" He hiccupped. Tellement adorable!
Francis smiled. It was the kind of smile that Matthew had learned to run away from, long ago. Unfortunately, there wasn't anywhere to run to at the moment, nor did he think his unsteady legs could carry him there if there was. "Oh, we can't stop now, Angleterre! I want to tell a fairy story too!"
Author Notes:
In Russian, to toast something you use the article 'za' plus the accusative case. Respectively, Ivan says, "To stories! To Biancabella! To weddings!"
[ kototyph fic masterlist]
Chapter One: Sweet, Beautiful, Pure!
» Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
» Rating: T
» Classification(s): Humor, Supernatural…Romance?
» Warnings: Violence, Language, Sexual Situations… in fairy tales!
» Pairing(s): France/England/Canada, America/Russia, Italy/Germany, and a very lonely Kiku. Go G8!
» Summary: Looking to avoid actually working, the nations begin to tell fairy and folk tales from their native lands... rated T for violence, sexual situations, and explicit language---in fairy tales! First up, Italy.
( Read the Prologue)
Chapter One: Sweet, Beautiful, Pure!
"Why are we doing this?" Matthew asked, plaintively.
Alfred looked around, puzzled. "Did someone say something?"
"It's Canada," Matthew answered gloomily, but no one heard him.
An energetic Feliciano and a Francis desperate for entertainment, any entertainment, had seen them move from the conference table and into the anteroom, where there was a fireplace, hideous red Rococo wallpaper, overstuffed sofas and chintzes, and most importantly, the liquor cabinet.
Everyone took a seat and Francis poured (mostly for himself). Feliciano stood in the midst of the couches and announced, "Bene, bene, I'll start!" Ludwig put a booted foot on the coffee table and moved it out of the way as Italian twirled in place to beam at each of his audience members.
"C'era una volta, once upon a time, there was a young girl sooo pretty and sooooo pure that her parents called her Biancabella, Little White Beauty."
"What a horrible name," Arthur groused into his glass of port.
"La ferme, Angleterre," Francis said mildly, draped bonelessly over a loveseat.
"Your mum, wine bastard," he muttered back, but he was quiet after. Feliciano went on.
"This girl, so bright, so beautiful, she was the joy of her poor, poor parents, who had two older girls besides. But they were so poor, and so hungry! They never had enough money to buy rotini or linguine or macaroni or rigatoni or even orzo! What a horrible life!" Feliciano seemed practically driven to tears by his own words. "Ah, triste!
"One day, as they searched the forest for some berries, roots, the tiniest little nut to eat, the three sisters came upon a little golden snake. The oldest two, they screamed and ran, but la bambina Biancabella, she knew the snake meant no harm."
"Was she a Parseltongue, then?" asked Arthur, suddenly interested.
"Those are not real, either," Kiku asserted disinterestedly, picking a piece of invisible lint off his spotless uniform. He was drinking hot tea that steamed gently.
"Noooo! I'm still waiting for my letter!" cried Alfred, hands over his ears.
"Vos gueules!" growled Francis.
Feliciano wasn't paying attention to any of it. He crouched down as if to address the hedge-hog-shaped footstool. "'Dear snake! If only my sisters would come close enough, they would see you are harmless, and also very beautiful!' 'Clever child!', said the snake, 'For your wisdom, you will be rewarded thrice over!'
"'First, your sorrow will bring you riches, tears of the ocean and of the earth!'"
"The hell?" grumbled Arthur.
"'Second, your joy will sow Persephone's bane!'"
"Pomegranate seeds," Francis translated for a bemused Alfred, who sat with a Coke dangling from between two fingers.
"'Third, your purity will strengthen and nourish you!'"
"Nourish…? Ah, the fish," Ivan reasoned aloud. To no one's surprise, he had appropriated an entire bottle of Russki Standart and was courteously measuring out several shots for the assembled. "Amerika and ghost-boy, you'll drink with me, da?"
"No," said Alfred rudely, but when he was distracted by Feliciano's increasingly comic gestures, Ivan dumped rather more than a shot into his soda.
"And the snake went away," Feliciano continued, spinning as he wiggled his arm to simulate the slithery movements. "Biancabella went home.
"She arrived just as her poor, poor parents were about to serve their meager supper of one strand of spaghetti. So sad!"
"Er," said Matthew, to the sudden appearance of a third of vodka in his hand. "Just a… little, then?"
"Quelle dommage, Feliciano," Francis commiserated with a noise that sounded suspiciously like a swallowed laugh; Feliciano didn't catch it, but Ludwig, sitting ramrod straight on his short pink ottoman, glared at him.
"The sensitive and beautiful Biancabella wept at the thought of her family so hungry, so poor! But her tears turned to pearls and silver on her cheeks, and all the family marveled!"
"How odd," murmured Kiku.
"She laughed in surprise, and pomegranate seeds fell out and sprouted in the floor, making beautiful trees!"
"Awesome!" exclaimed Alfred. He took a healthy swig from his bottle.
"And she went to wash her hands in the basin for their meager dinner, and fish splashed out onto the floor!"
"How nice. Za skaskikh!" said Ivan with his serene smile, and knocked his glass with Matthew's.
"Her family was overjoyed! Now, they could eat their fill!"
"Uh, zaskakih...?" Matthew repeated, dubiously. He swallowed with a pained expression. Ivan refilled his glass immediately.
"Are you sure you will not drink with us, tovarish?" Ivan asked Alfred solicitously as he poured. Two thirds of the Coke was gone, and the American's cheeks were becoming suspiciously pink.
"No, thanzz. Thanks."
Ivan smiled wider. "Nu, tak hochish'."
"Of course, such a beautiful, miraculous maiden could not remain a secret for long. Her family grew rich, and soon, all flocked to see her. One day, word reached the family that the prince himself wished to meet the beautiful Biancabella! She of course agreed to this." Feliciano nodded emphatically, but then his face dropped and his voice quavered. "Ve~, but her beautiful heart could not see the growing envy of her sisters. She was made even kinder by her good fortune, but their envy made them ten thousand times worse. So envious were they that when the prince appeared at their cottage they locked poor, poor Biancabella in the attic! Ah, so sad!"
"Ach, traurig," agreed Ludwig.
"The attic was piled with pearls, awash with silver, for Biancabella so did want to see the prince! She peered out the tiny attic window to watch for him. When he came, he was so splendidly arrayed in gold and jewels, on a white horse with bells on its bridle, that she forgot her tears and laughed with wonder."
"A bit bipolar, eh bien?" Francis mused.
"There grew immediately beautiful trees below the attic window. The prince was amazed, and asked which of the sisters had done such a marvelous thing. Prideful, wicked, they each claimed that they had done it. The prince said to them, 'Well, may the one who laughs these seeds take from these trees their fruit.' Neither of the sisters could touch the branches, let alone the fruit, no matter how they tried. The prince grew angry and said, 'If none can harvest the fruit, let these two then lose their lying heads!'
"Biancobella, sweet, pure, called from her attic prison, 'Oh no, good sir, spare my sisters and I will gladly give you the fruit, the fruit of the trees.' The prince ordered her released, and the wicked sisters watched as the prince ate of the fruit that Biancabella, sweet Biancabella, plucked for him."
"Za Biancabelli!" Ivan toasted cheerfully.
Matthew took the shot, wincing as it burned all the way to his stomach. He watched with something like horror as more vodka was surreptitiously tipped into his brother's unattended soda.
"He ate of the fruit and proposed marriage to her, to sweet Biancabella! Oh how her sisters envied her, oh how they hated her!"
"I hate her," mumbled into the glass of port.
Francis sniffed. "And how do you think, mon cher Angleterre, that the rest of us feel when you insist on being made godparent to your unicorn's children in the middle of a meeting?"
"That was an emergency! Cherrybright said that-"
A firm kick to the underside of his chaise nearly unseated him, and Arthur turned to glare at Ludwig, who was paying rapt attention to the increasing wild movements of the mendicant Italian.
"As the bride-to-be, the expectant bride prepared for her wedding feast, her sisters grabbed her! They took her to the woods! And there, they cut out her eyes and chopped off her hands, and left her alone in the forest!" Feliciano burst into tears. "Ah, tristissimo!"
Even Kiku blinked at the last details. "Genni? Her hands?"
Ludwig patted the sobbing Italian very awkwardly on the back; his own eyes were suspiciously shiny. To his obvious disconcertion, Feliciano jumped into his lap and wailed, "To be so wronged by your own blood siblings! She cried and cried at being left alone in the dark forest-"
"And not at having her hanz cut off?" Alfred slurred. He took another swig of the Coke, smacked his lips a bit, and turned to scowl at the bottle, wondering through a thickening haze why it tasted more and more like rubbing alcohol.
Sobbed into Ludwig's shirt, "-and her eldest sister was wed by trickery and deceit to her prince, her groom!" Feliciano lifted his head, lips trembling. "And Biancabella might have died in the forest if not for the snake, the harmless and beautiful golden snake which had blessed her. The snake came upon her and exclaimed, 'My poor, beautiful child! What has happened to you!' And Biancabella explained it all.
"As the snake nursed her back to health in the forest, the eldest sister became pregnant with the prince's child."
"My, tellement scandalous!" said Francis.
"He honestly didn't notice it wasn't the same sister?" Arthur asked skeptically.
The Italian sniffled. He had stopped crying, but, one couldn't help but notice, showed no signs of climbing out of an increasingly uncomfortable-looking Ludwig's lap.
"It became known that the eldest sister, the new princess craved figs above all else, but the season was wrong and she wasted away in her craving. The golden snake hatched a plan, and transformed herself into una venditore, a peddler-woman. She brought fresh, ripe, glistening figs to the palace and cried, 'Figs for sale, figs for sale!' The eldest sister came to the window and said, 'Oh, oh, for a single fig I would pay thousands of gold pieces.' 'I only take payment in eyes', said the peddler-woman. The eldest sister remembered the eyes of the beautiful Biancabella, which she had cut out and put in her pocket, and gave these to the peddler-woman."
"Ergh, thazz disgusting!"
Feliciano shook his head vehemently. "Ve~, America, but the snake took the eyes back to Biancabella and put them back in and she could see again!"
"Thazz e'en MORE disguzting!"
Feliciano had grabbed Ludwig's hands and crossed them in front of himself, so that the tall German was effectively embracing him. He snuggled back and the German nation gave an embarrassed little cough. "Ah, Feliciano-"
"Then, the eldest sister began to crave peaches!" The Italian said, firmly overriding him. "These, too, were out of season. The snake once again left Biancabella in the forest and went to the palace with a bushel of fresh, ripe, glistening peaches and cried, 'Peaches for sale, peaches for sale!' The eldest sister came to the window and said, 'Oh, oh, for a single peach I would pay thousands of gold pieces.' 'I only take payment in hands', said the peddler-woman."
"Were the hands in her other pocket?" Arthur asked.
"How did you know?" exclaimed Feliciano, surprised.
"A wild guess. Let me make another-the sister gives this woman the hands for the peaches, and the snake-woman magically restores them to the sweet, lovely, beautiful, pure, kind Biancabella?"
"Just so!"
"I thought so. Then what?"
Francis looked at him in surprise. "Arthur, do you actually want to know?"
The nation threw up his hands. The forgotten glass of port, half-full, splashed down the back of the chaise. "No! I don't! I want to be working on our proposal, which is due in two days! The sooner he finishes, the better."
"You'll be needing more wine, je vois," Francis observed with a smirk.
"Hmm? Didn't I just…?"
Kiku, directly behind him, looked down at the maroon spotting his white pants and began planning genocide.
"Biancabella was restored! The eldest sister gave birth to the prince's child, but it was a scorpion."
"Okay, that's really weird," muttered Matthew.
"Hmmm? Who was that?" said Feliciano.
"Za svad'bi!"
"It's Canada," he sighed into his third shot, and took it.
"Bene, nevertheless, the prince held a ball. The golden snake told Biancabella that they would attend as narratrices. The beautiful Biancabella played and sang as beautifully as she did everything, and soon they two were asked to perform at the prince's table."
"And he still didn't recognize her?"
"No, non fanno mai," Feliciano shrugged. "She sang the song of her own fate." Feliciano began to sing, something wavering and barely melodic. Arthur resolutely clapped his hands over his ears.
"There was a girl
A peasant girl
Who was blessed by riches three
Pearls and silver
Seeds and plenty
Food and plenty
Was she blessed with.
Envy struck her
Pluck'd her eyes
And took her hands
And left her in the forest.
Envy has taken her place
In the palace, in the bed
And Envy has born only evil
From her womb.
"The snake-narratrice asked the eldest sister what should be done to this envious person who had so wronged the peasant girl. The sister, not recognizing her own face in Envy-"
"Oh, now really?"
"-pronounced immediately that the envious one was must suffer the same fate, that is, must have her eyes plucked and hands taken and must be left in the forest. The snake stood to her full height, revealed herself as a great enchantress!" Feliciano shot up from his perch on Ludwig's knee and struck the other nation squarely in the jaw; he keeled back off the ottoman onto the floor. Feliciano, not noticing, stood on tiptoes and waved his arms vigorously.
"And the enchantress said, 'Lo, it must be so! Behold Biancabella, the prince's true bride!' And Biancabella was suddenly dressed in costly garments, in ermine and silk and cloth-of-gold!"
"That does sound costly," agreed Francis, watching the snow fall past the window.
"And then- ve, Doitsu, why are you on the ground?"
From his position on the floor, Ludwig made a vague waving motion and groaned, "Ich bin… gut…"
"Eh, va bene… Biancabella, the beautiful Biancabella, laughed and cried and soon the room was full of pearls and pomegranates!"
"Delightful," Kiku muttered. He had a protractor out and was busily drawing something that on close inspection looked like an army of killer robots converging on one lone figure in a pirate hat.
"The prince knew then that this was his true bride! He immediately ordered the sentence the false bride, the eldest sister had delivered on herself, to be carried out! But Biancabella, pure, kind Biancabella, stayed his hand. 'Even though she has done these things, I cannot do the same,' she said to him."
"What a pure girl," said Ludwig, leaning up on the ottoman with sincere admiration in his eyes. Feliciano patted his head.
"The eldest sister was only banished, with her scorpion son. And Biancabella and the prince were married e vissero tutti felici e contenti!"
"'Happily ever after'," Francis translated. "Quelle belle conte, Feliciano."
Arthur perked up from where he'd let his head droop against the high back of his chair. "Is he done? Can we go back to the meeting?"
Francis took a survey of the assembled. Feliciano was crouched by the German brute, who was still on the floor, chattering animatedly. Alfred was swaying a bit in place, which was strange, as he was sure that he'd only given him that wretched cola he liked so much. Ivan was creepily happy, as usual. Kiku was drawing something furiously, and had taken out a red pen to… hmmm. Angleterre was scowling at him.
That was odd… there were eight of them, weren't there? This was a G8-sponsored meeting, after all. So who…?
"Ah, cher Mathieu! When did you get here?"
At this, Arthur sat up and turned around. "What? Matthew?"
The rosy-cheeked, teary-eyed face of his favorite nation looked up at him with the most endearing expression of sad resignation. "I've been here the whole time."
"Why are you sitting on the floor?" Arthur asked him.
"Because no one left a seat for me…" He hiccupped. Tellement adorable!
Francis smiled. It was the kind of smile that Matthew had learned to run away from, long ago. Unfortunately, there wasn't anywhere to run to at the moment, nor did he think his unsteady legs could carry him there if there was. "Oh, we can't stop now, Angleterre! I want to tell a fairy story too!"
Author Notes:
In Russian, to toast something you use the article 'za' plus the accusative case. Respectively, Ivan says, "To stories! To Biancabella! To weddings!"
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