A/N: What you are about to read is about an event that is absolute trufax. I am not pulling your leg. Also, while I tried really hard on it, I'm not really satisfied with how this came out. :/ Oh well, I tried.

Oh, and I do not own anything Hetalia. I'd probably ruin it if I did. ^^; *fails at history*

Shout out and love goes to Thoughtless7 who told me about this in her usual way of finding strange things, I love you kaifu~

The Dancing Plague of 1518

.~.~.~.~.

A blond boy wandered the dirty summer streets of Strasbourg, his dark cloak sticking out among the lightly dressed peddlers and beggars that littered the road. It was a warm July day, and many were taking shelter under whatever shade they could find. The boy walked along with no real purpose, glancing around at the people around him with blue eyes brighter than the sky.

The city was more impoverished than he remembered. Then again, so were most of his lands, the Holy Roman Empire—now known as the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation, he reminded himself—had been experiencing a drought this summer, and the past winter had been cruel, leaving his people with little to eat. He could feel their hunger vibrate through his insides, and it hurt that he couldn't do anything to help. His people were suffering and dying. He could feel it in his bones and see it in their faces—streaked with dirt with eyes so empty and hopeless it sent chills down his spine and splinters to his heart. It was just as bad here in Strasbourg as it was everywhere else in his kingdom. Maybe worse. Was there nothing he could do?

He was suddenly jolted out of his thoughts; just avoiding a collision with a small girl, her feet bare and clothes tattered. The fact that she was holding something just barely registered in his mind before he heard a shout and a man rushed past him, grabbing the girl by the back of her dress and hoisting her up.

"You little brat, did you think you could get away with stealing from my shop?" the man growled, shaking her roughly before taking the bread she had stolen and throwing her to the ground.

Holy Roman Empire shouted in surprise before he even realized what he was doing, rushing to the girl who was now curled up on the cobblestones sobbing, tears leaving clean tracks on her dirtied face. "What are you doing?" he barked at the man, crouching down to lift the little girl to her feet. "That's hardly any way to treat a girl!"

"Girl or not, this little pest stole from my shop! She's lucky I don't do worse!" the man—broad backed and very tall, he belatedly realized—roared right back, and if Holy Roman had not been alive as long as he had, he would have been shaking in his boots. Holy Roman returned the glare with his best impassive yet dangerous look, and to his good fortune the man turned on his heel, muttering angry words to himself as he went back to his stand.

He breathed a sigh of relief before turning back to the girl in his arms. "A-Are you hurt, mi-miss?" Holy Roman stammered out, flushing red when he realized he was still holding onto her, her dark brown eyes watery but watching him with an enamored expression. She just nodded, eyes never leaving his face, unnerving Holy Roman more and more before he couldn't stand it anymore and pushed her slightly away and fully upright. "G-Good…" he nodded, but she stayed still, watching him.

Deciding he needed to make her talk before she unnerved him any more than she already had, Holy Roman asked, "What's your name?"

The girl blinked blankly at him for a moment before her gaze automatically fixed to her feet, which shuffled against the street. "Eyda…"

Holy Roman nodded. "Eyda… that's a nice name." Eyda blushed, smiling slightly at his compliment, and Holy Roman was suddenly struck with how much she reminded him of little Italy. She had the same shade of brown hair, similar eye color, same stance when she was embarrassed… shaking his head to shake the thought away and quell his quickened heart, he glanced around them. She was hungry, that was why she was stealing, wasn't it? He didn't have much money on him, but…

For some reason, he felt he had to help this girl. She was one in thousands of the people he could feel suffering in his heart, but something was compelling him to do something. He could go without a meal; she needed it more than he ever would.

"Stay right here," he told her, pointing to the ground. "I'll be right back." Before she could ask anything he rushed off, toward one of the stands. It was a meager selection; only a few loaves of bread, but he bought the biggest one he could afford from the merchant—one far away from the one the girl had stolen from, he was a bit scary—and rushed back. She had done as she was told, standing exactly as she had been when he left her. Her eyes brightened at the sight of the food before turning mistrusting, as if she couldn't believe the kindness of a stranger. It pulled at his heartstrings to see such wariness in eyes that had been so adoring earlier.

"H-Here…" he offered her the bread, avoiding looking at her out of embarrassment. At first she didn't take it, taking a defensive step back, but when he nodded his head and thrust it toward her again she snatched it, running off a few feet before turning around, clutching it to her chest desperately when she realized he wasn't chasing her. Holy Roman nodded at her to assure her that it was indeed hers, and she turned back around, disappearing into the crowd.

A small smile finding its way out, Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation turned back down the street, feeling lighter than he had before. It was a small, insignificant drop in the bucket, but it made him feel better to have made at least a small difference in one of his citizen's lives. Maybe there was some way he could help his people that he had not thought of yet…

He wasn't walking long before he came upon a commotion, a group of people circled in the street. From the hoots and hollers coming from the mob, he assumed it must have been some sort of entertainer, and pushed himself through the crowd to the front to see what was going on.

Indeed, there was someone dancing, a woman. Her movements were repetitive, jerky even, and Holy Roman nearly frowned and turned around to leave when something struck him as odd. The more he watched her, the more strange her movements looked, like she wasn't fully in control of what she was doing—the way her body twisted and heaved looked entirely uncomfortable, even for a practiced dancer.

She finally turned in his direction, her visage the picture of fear and pain. Ice ran through his veins as his heart jumped in surprise. Just what was she doing, dancing so feverishly with such a look of suffering, and why?

"What's wrong with her?" Holy Roman asked a woman beside her, who was watching anxiously. She jumped a little when he addressed her, but her smile was kind.

"I'm not sure… sometime yesterday this woman started dancing in the street. She hasn't stopped once since, if the rumors are true. And…" her gaze ventured back to the stricken woman before snapping back to him, "She has had that expression from the start. An officer tried to calm her down a few minutes ago, but nothing he did could stop her. She just dances like that, occasionally shouting gibberish. Many people are screaming about the wrath of St. Vitus…" the woman shuddered, clenching her eyes shut for a moment. "I certainly hope that's not the case. Life has been hard enough already, but to bring forth the wrath of a Saint… there is nothing we need less," she said grimly, turning back to watch the woman.

Quickly finding watching unsettling, Holy Roman pulled himself out of the crowd, intending to ask the local authorities what they thought was going on.

.~.~.~.~.

This is madness, Holy Roman Empire thought as he watched Strasbourg descend into chaos all around him. He just couldn't believe this was happening. He had come back the next day to check on the woman, and indeed, she was still dancing. But that wasn't as distressing as the fact that it wasn't just her dancing anymore. Two people had joined her overnight, a man and a woman, twisting and turning and flailing their bodies about, their expressions contorted in pain and misery. A physician had been called to the scene, but Holy Roman Empire doubted the man knew what was wrong. The authorities had decided to just let the dancers continue—they weren't exactly hurting anyone, and they believed that letting them continue would dispel whatever was compelling them to dance in such a way.

But then it wasn't just three. Then it was six. And then, horrifyingly, the original dancing woman died. He was there, watching, when it happened—suddenly she let out a long, painful wail before slumping to the ground in a heap. She'd danced to her death.

But it didn't stop there. No, the death of the original dancer didn't even seem to faze the others. Soon, there were fourteen. Then, after a week, thirty-four people had joined the mob. Fearing what might happen if they forced them to cease, musicians had been hired, and music played day and night through the street. Many more danced to their deaths.

Something was wrong, so sickeningly wrong, and Holy Roman Empire couldn't understand it. What was happening to his people? Had they all gone mad?

He was at a loss for what to do when the numbers swelled to close to four hundred. Four hundred of his people were dancing in the streets, terror-stricken and distorted, sending panic through the rest. 'A plague has descended upon us!' they cried, 'St. Vitus has cursed us to dance to our deaths!'

Images of the saint had been placed before the masses, hoping that seeing him would break them of their fever, but it worked for very few. Soon people were dropping like flies, every few hours there would be the thump of dead weight hitting the dirt street, the wails of the cursed ringing in his ears. His limbs shook from the strain of losing so many around him, the heat and panic making him feel ill.

It wasn't over until the last one fell, the last thud among many against the street. The music stopped, and the city was silent as death. And the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation was left with the horror of so many innocent citizens gone, for they had danced and danced for their sorrows until they could dance no more.

The world had gone mad.

.~.~.~.~.

Historical Notes: I'm not shitting you, this really happened. In July 1518, a woman called Frou Troffea began dancing in the streets of Strasbourg, then part of the Holy Roman Empire. She danced for somewhere between four to six days before she died. By the time a month passed over 400 people had joined the frenzy. The thing was these people were not dancing because they wanted to. Accounts of the incident say that the people dancing had no control over themselves, and had stricken, tortured expressions as they danced. Most danced to their deaths, either by heat-stroke, heart attack, or just sheer exhaustion. Physicians of the time believed it was caused by 'hot blood', and normally would have prescribed blood-letting to cure the ones afflicted. But the cure that was put into action was to keep the dancers going in an effort to dispel the urge. They even hired musicians to keep them dancing night and day, and constructed a stage. People thought it was a curse sent to them by St. Vitus; as Catholic legend says invoking his wrath provoked compulsive dancing.

Theories on the actual cause range from ergotism (caused by a psychotropic mold that grows on rye, it can lead to delirium, hallucinations, and seizures as well as other symptoms, then called Saint Anthony's Fire), to the idea that they were part of a heretical sect. But further investigation shows that it was most likely mass psychological illness that caused them to dance to their deaths—many were poor and malnourished, just barely struggling to survive and under extreme duress. A trance state invoked by the stress and strong belief in St. Vitus' curse was likely the cause, and they danced to their deaths.

Shows how odd the human brain can be. This is the last recorded incident of a "dancing plague", although not the first. It died out after the area became largely Protestant due to Martin Luther's Reformation and St. Vitus fell out of worship.

It sounds funny until you realize just how horrible it actually was. I myself laughed until it set in that these people died in a horrible way. Also, as an explanation of HRE's name: in 1512 by decree by the Diet of Cologne 'of the German Nation' was added to the Empire's name once it underwent changes in its government to keep the Empire together, as it had been falling apart for a long time.

Oh, and I apologize for any minor historical inaccuracies and/or OOC-ness, I only had the internet to use to research and I don't know HRE as a character that well. This is the first time I've ever even thought to write about him. And for the general fail this ended up being. :| I don't think I did the event justice.