[Fanfiction] Interlude: The Problem with Fairy Godmothers
Title: Interlude: The Problem with Fairy Godmothers
Author/Artist: Theos99
Characters/Pairings: AmericaxEngland, hints of SpainxRomano, FrancexCanada, one-sided RussiaxLithuania, LithuaniaxPoland, one-sided BelarusxRussia, and GermanyxItaly
Rating/Warnings: T
Summary: In which Arthur finds himself in need of a substitute fairy godmother. (Set to take place between chapters 1 and 2 of The Golden Goose)
Disclaimer: Hetalia characters are not owned by me.
Notes: This explains why Russia somehow obtained the fairy godmother position in The Golden Goose. And all the genders of the characters are still the same.
Pairings: AmericaxEngland, hints of SpainxRomano, FrancexCanada, one-sided RussiaxLithuania, LithuaniaxPoland, one-sided BelarusxRussia, and GermanyxItaly
Interlude: The Problem with Fairy Godmothers
The problem with being a fairy godmother (not that he supported the use of the “mother” part of the title), Arthur reflected, was all his idiot charges calling him at the worst possible times.
Oh, Arthur didn’t mind helping out people in need (although Spain was a bit of an airhead, and the last episode with his shy, sweet Canada [AN: in a brotherly way, sorry J] chasing after that stupid frog [who was then literally an amphibian, the Britannia Angel was proud to say] almost broke him and made him break Francis - only a little, though, because Matthew had been so upset). It fact, carrying out good deeds usually filled him with a nice blissful feeling, which his cooking attempts didn’t give him (it wasn’t his fault that he added two cups of salt instead of the sugar and flour into that batch of scones - there was probably a white cooking powders conspiracy! - and he was pretty sure that his oven had an irrational grudge against him).
But there were certain moments when Arthur wanted to take the entire lot of them (barring Matthew, who was such a dear even if he did favor stupid French-speaking princes-turned-frogs) and throw everyone out the nearest (and tallest) tower he could find.
Such as now; Arthur had settled into a nice shagging session with his new fiancée that was just becoming more interesting (and involved) when he felt a familiar tugging motion run through his entire body.
He had (luckily) enough coherent thought left in his mind to grab his wand before the castle walls dissolved around him.
HETALIAHETALIAHETALIAHETALIAHETALIAHETALIAHETALIAHETALIA
Ludwig must be either a saint or a stone statue.
Arthur didn’t know how else the German prince was able to be in the same room as Feliciano* - let alone a certain frying-pan-wielding sorceress when she was in her matchmaker/yaoi-fangirl/older sister mode - for long periods of time without going absolutely bollocks (which that kraut probably already was).
Well, Feliciano was an Italian (and from Vargas, at that), so the sex must be great (and it also invalidated the “stone-man” theory because while Italians were known for being great lovers, they weren’t as crazy as Francis, who was an entire category by himself).
There was no other explanation.
After being whisked away from an important meeting with Alfred (they were discussing possible adventures to undertake - Alfred with significantly with more enthusiasm than the Brit - and no, it didn’t matter if they had gotten sidetracked), Arthur had found himself at the mercy of Feliciano’s wedding planner (Hungary) and the soon-to-be bride.
Not that Arthur didn’t mind sewing (since he was rather good at it), but five hours straight of pouring over wedding dress designs (with a short siesta for Feliciano, but none for Arthur because Elizabeta kept ploughing on with no sign of tiring) was another thing.
The Brit was pretty sure that he had pink sequins imprinted on the back of his eyeballs from all those pictures (why the bloody hell was Vargas fashion so obsessed with pink, poufy dresses?).
At least he managed to take his wand with him before he was whisked away. It was a huge bother, but at least it allowed him change out of that skimpy ‘angel’ dress of his (he learned from nasty run-ins with perverted French princes that it was best not to be picky about clothing, as long as it fully covered his molestable private parts) into a ‘princess’ dress or unicorn nightgown (the princess dress was still pink and poufy but it was a full-length one, and Arthur really liked the unicorn nightgown - it reminded him of Mr. Sparkles).
When he finally managed to get back to Alfred’s castle, the sun was already setting. Which was good in the sense that he could finally get some quality time with his knight, but was bad because Arthur suddenly thought of a certain remark that Feliciano had made.
(Earlier that day in Ludwig’s castle)
“Ve~~ England!”
“Yes?” (Even when pissed off, Arthur was still a gentleman - except, perhaps, to Alfred and Francis but that was under excruciating circumstances).
“I think Lovi likes someone!” Feliciano hummed happily to himself as he sketched out plans for Ludwig’s suit (It was too bad, the Italian thought, that Ludwig had refused to wear a dress. He would look so pretty in one!).
Well that was a surprise. Arthur had met Romano before (even though he wasn’t one of his charges), and that “tsundere” (as Kiku liked to call him, whatever that was. When Arthur tried to ask him what that meant - because he caught Kiku calling him that once - the Japanese hime (1) had skillfully and subtly changed the subject. It probably just meant “bad-tempered,” though, and Arthur had to admit he was a rather snappish Brit) never struck him as someone who could fall in love so easily.
Arthur shook his head slightly. It wouldn’t do to get distracted now; all he just needed to finish was the last few touches on Feliciano’s dress and they could call it a day (he absolutely refused to be part of Ludwig’s “suit-fitting,” which, knowing Feliciano, would involve partial - or complete - nudity. Arthur had already had the innocence taken from his eyes by Francis, thank you very much. The Brit was eternally grateful that Hungary already had Feliciano’s measurements taken down).
As he hunched over the hem of the bridal gown, Arthur distantly heard Feliciano say, “I think his name is Spain~”
(Back to America’s castle, in the entrance hall, later in the day)
Spain.
Oh god.
Not another one of his rejects charges.
It didn’t matter what happened to any one of them tonight (Arthur sent a silent ‘sorry’ to Matthew as he lumped him in with everyone else), the Brit would not be budging out of his home until he had successfully concluded his business meeting with Alfred.
He was Arthur bloody Kirkland for God’s sake, and he didn’t leave anything uncompleted.
However, Arthur was still a gentleman. He wouldn’t just dump his charges with an incompetent, or, heaven forbid, a homicidal maniac.
But who to ask?
The people who were willing to take on the position of fairy godmother (even for a night) tended to be rather on the strange side or just plain gullible.
Hmmm.....wait. Didn’t that stable-master of Alfred’s say something about how rewarding being a fairy godmother was (it was probably just polite talk, but Arthur immediately squashed that thought out of his mind)?
What was his name again? Lithi-something. Lithiue, Lithinana...Lithuania! That was it!
As if England had spoken his name out-loud, the stable-master poked his head around a side door to the entrance hall a few moments later.
“Your H-highness,” Toris said shyly, still not entering the room, “Sir Alfred - he still refused to drop the title from America’s name, no matter how many times the knight had asked him to - said that he’s in the dining room, if you want to join him.”
“Just ‘Arthur’ is fine, Lorinaitis! (2)” Arthur said jovially, trying to suppress a smile (his fairy friends - the actual miniature ones - always said that it looked like he was about to make someone walk the plank. Ah, those old glory days of sailing out into the wide, blue ocean and beating up the occasional French frog while they were off cavorting with mermaids...What? It was a gentleman’s duty to rescue those poor, innocent girls from that pervert!).
“And do come in,” he continued, beckoning him in with a sweeping gesture of his hand, “I have something I would like to discuss with you.”
HETALIAHETALIAHETALIAHETALIAHETALIAHETALIAHETALIAHETALIA
(Alfred and Arthur’s room, much later in the night)
Arthur snuggled closer to Alfred, and the blond knight tightened his arms around him in an unconscious, reflexive response.
The Briton smiled softly at his partner. It was rather astonishing how close they had gotten in the past few weeks; it seemed like they had known each other for much longer than they actually did.
It was amazing, really, how this one stupid (but admittedly hot) blond idiot had managed to turn him, Prince Arthur Kirkland, into a gooey pile of mush. It must be those wide, baby-blue eyes of his, or that stupid-yet-charismatic hero-complex, or his funny lock of hair - that still managed to stick up, no matter what strenuous activities they had just gone through - or that...
Arthur sighed resignedly, reaching down to smooth down Nantucket.
He really was a big “teddy bear” (as Alfred liked to call him).
(In the stable-master’s quarters)
Hastily shoving aside a few more piles of books, Toris winced as the sound of them hitting the ground reached his ears.
It was of no consequence - he didn’t have time to worry about a few novels, no matter how precious they were (they had been given to him by a wonderful, child-hood friend of his - a pretty princess who had always been very kind to him and protected him from bullies; she (3) was quite adept at kicking those tormenting boys in their sensitive regions), because Prince(ss? Toris wasn’t sure which part of the couple to go with on this ‘princess/prince’ issue) Kirkland, the beloved partner of his friend (Toris was always grateful towards Sir Jones for giving him a position with horses - he loved working with them - after a certain Russian king had started stalking him and asking him when he would “become one with Russia”).
He couldn’t let them down, not when both of them had been so nice and generous to him!
Where, Toris thought, as he overturned yet another stack of books, was Britannia Angel’s wand?
(Somewhere in the Kingdom of Vodka in Far, Far Away)
Ivan smiled to himself as he cradled the wand as gently in his hands as he would any sunflower he held. Wands, he discovered, especially genuine magic ones like the Britannia Angel’s, were quite useful to have (especially when avoiding certain marriage-proposing, knife-wielding sisters).
What a wonderful find to have acquired (it must be a lucky sign because he stole got it while stalking visiting his dear Lithuania)!
As he continued down the long, icy halls of his palace (4), Ivan suddenly felt a slight tug in his navel.
Ah. This must be the summons for the fairy godmother.
Ivan smiled as he felt himself slowly being transported to another destination. He was always willing to help people in need, especially if they became more open to the idea of becoming slaves friends with him.
After all, everyone would eventually become one with Russia anyways.
Kolkolkolkol...
More Notes:
*England doesn’t hate/dislike Feliciano (and I rather like him/think he’s pretty cute). He’s just pissed off right now because Feli interrupted his fun time with Alfred. XD
The reason why Arthur is dragged away w/out his wand is because he is the actual Britannia Angel. Everyone else has to have the wand to be dragged away.....
(1) Hime = Japanese for princess
(2) Toris Lorinaitis = Lithuania’s human name
(3) Since Poland always wears dresses, Lithuania doesn’t know that he’s a guy. He’s still blissfully unaware of his first crush’s true gender.
(4) Yes, this is a castle made of ice which will be part of yet another story.
A Poll is up on http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2068756/Happy123 to vote for the next Hetalia Fairy Tales story!