A Midwinter Night's Tale: a Fanfic in Three Acts

Pairings: USUK, some one-sided silliness, PruCan, and hints of Frain.

Warnings: Rated T for mild swearing, innuendos, and Pedo!Spain.

Story based on: a mash-up of The Winter's Tale and A Midsummer Night's Dream. Do I need to give spoiler warnings for 400 year-old plays? If yes, consider yourself warned.

Act I: Setting the Stage

London. Monday. One Week before Christmas.

Sealand trudged home through the snow, muttering all the while about jerk England and his stupid bossiness. Okay, so plan #471 to become recognized as an independent country hadn't worked. Still, Sealand was positive that plan #472 would be the one to finally succeed, just as soon as he came up with it. In the meantime, England had grounded him and threatened to feed him scones until he learned to behave. Sealand wished he was home with Sweden and Finland. All of their food tasted so much better, even the salted fish. Since his name was Sealand, he felt like eating fish was part of his national heritage, or definitely would be as soon as he developed a national cuisine.

But instead of developing his nation's culinary arts—and finally showing jerk England who was the better cook—Sealand had to spend his time doing normal kid activity like homework. Even worse, because England was his teacher, all of his homework involved stodgy old books and plays. Frankly, if the literature was older than he was, Sealand wasn't really interested in it. Why couldn't he read modern stuff? Sealand liked to talk about America and his cool new graphic novels, but that just made England more annoyed.

'Pay attention in school or you'll end up as dumb as that ungrateful git,' England always warned whenever Sealand dared compliment America. Sealand didn't care. He liked America. America had once been a downtrodden colony like him, but he had risen up and secured his independence. Admittedly, America had slightly more land area and natural resources, even at the time of the revolution, but a micronation could dream, couldn't he?

Sealand dusted off the snow from the nearby window sill and grabbed the spare house key. He unlocked the door and dumped his boots and coat on the floor. He wandered into the kitchen for a snack. Unfortunately, nearly all of the food was England's food. Sealand settled for eating a twinkie that America had left behind from a visit during WWII.

It was still good.

Thinking of America gave Sealand a clever idea for revenge against jerk England. He hurried over to the cabinets and began searching for England's tea. He could have his own little tea party by dumping the tea into the toilet! It would be hilarious to see England's reaction. When Sealand found the tea tin, a note in England's elegant script caught his attention.

Dear Sealand,

I have put a curse on this tea tin. If you touch so much as a single leaf, you will spend the rest of your life as a rabbit.

Love,
England

Sealand laughed dismissively, but his hand slowed as he reached for the tin. England wouldn't really do that to him, right? Then he remembered the incident with France and the turtle, and he decided that England probably would. England was incredibly possessive when it came to his tea. Heck, the guy had colonized India just to make sure he had a steady supply of the stuff. That hadn't worked out so well in the long run, but England was still fanatical when it came to tea. Sealand was going to have to find another route for revenge.

Then a dusty pink bottle at the very back of the cupboard caught Sealand's eye. It had a heart-shaped stopper. Sealand pulled it out and read the label. "Love-in-Idleness Extract" said the front, while the back contained a long list of use instructions, warnings, and fine-print disclaimers.

For Use: Place one drop in subject's beverage. After imbibing, subject will fall madly in love with the closest person of suitable age and gender. Effects last for one hour.

Disclaimer: True Love's kiss will nullify the potion's effect.

Warning: Do not use in the presence of known pedophiles.

Sealand skimmed over the instructions for use and smiled brightly. He had a new plan for blackmailing England into recognizing his independence: he would convince England to invite some other nations over to his house. Then he would put some of the love juice into England's drink, catch England's embarrassing actions on video, blackmail England, and independence would finally be his. Because he was still grounded, all he needed was the perfect idea for how to convince a man who was literally an island to invite some nations to his house.

England sighed to himself as he carried his heavy briefcase home from the nearest Tube station. It was only the first day of the week-long World Conference in London and Sealand had already disrupted the proceedings. He wished he could send the boy back to live with Sweden, but England felt it was important to have his little brother around for the Christmas holidays. Perhaps he could manage to have a normal relationship with at least one of his brothers. Unfortunately, he realized too late that auctioning off his brother probably did not count as normal family relations by even the most liberal standards.

In the entryway, England noticed Sealand's discarded winter clothing cluttering up the otherwise immaculate space. He carefully hung up the coat and straightened the boots. Sometimes Sealand's sloppiness reminded him of America, and the thought of his former ward brought a twinge of regret and other feelings that he quickly brushed aside. England entered the living room and was surprised to see Sealand reading on the couch.

"Hi England," said Sealand cheerfully, as he glanced up from A Winter's Tale, his assigned play for the week. Apparently he was no longer annoyed that England had kicked him out of the conference earlier that day. Or maybe he was just putting on a show of good behavior to avoid being grounded for the rest of his immortal life.

England breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he wasn't going to have to deal with Sealand's prankster antics at the moment. He had been worried the boy would try something drastic after their most recent spat. "So what do you think of the play?" England asked, knowing it wasn't one of Shakespeare's more popular plays. The Bard himself had rather loved it, but popular tastes could be so fickle.

"It's great! This guy gets mauled by a bear. Rawr!" Sealand eagerly pantomimed a bear eating a man with exaggerated hand gestures.

England smiled fondly at Sealand's antics. "I'm glad you like it."

"Yeah, it's super awesome! You know what we be fun? I could do a puppet play and you could invite a bunch of nations to come watch," Sealand suggested with an eager glimmer in his eye. The boy had clearly caught the Shakespeare fever.

"I'm don't particularly care for hosting parties…" England hesitated. His house held a lot of liquor. Enough liquor to keep many pirates happy for many years. He was worried that hosting a party would be asking for trouble. Nations and liquor were a dangerous combination, as anyone who had met drunken England could attest.

"You could sew the puppets for me… come on England, it'll be fun!" Sealand pleaded. It reminded England of another blond boy who had always begged for favors and who had always received them. England wouldn't spoil Sealand the way he spoiled America, but surely a little Shakespeare puppet play wouldn't hurt.

England relented and allowed Sealand his choice of a few guests. He expected his little brother to choose his micronation friends. Instead, Sealand chose America and Prussia.

Sealand grinned to himself, pleased at his ability to pick out two really embarrassing nations for good blackmail material. When he got drunk, England always ranted about America, so Sealand knew that the British nation would be horrified to be caught in a compromising position with 'that ungrateful git.' And England had never forgiven 'that tasteless albino' for pretending to nearly die after eating his scones, so Prussia was a natural choice. Probably the only nation that would be more embarrassing to England would be France, but Sealand did not see any possible way he could convince England to invite 'that wine bastard.'

England agreed, although he arched an eyebrow at the choice of America and Prussia. Given the way Sealand adored America, the choice wasn't too surprising. And Sealand and Prussia seemed to have some sort of strange friendship for reasons England would never understand. Probably because neither of them had any actual duties—since Prussia hadn't been a real nation for decades—and they both enjoyed pranking world conferences in their spare time.

England gave a mental shrug. It could have been worse. It could have been France. Still, England wished that Sealand had chosen a more literate country, like Japan. But perhaps it was best to keep Sealand away from Japanese literature, since some of it could get rather perverted. Reading Shakespeare was supposed to cure Sealand of his unfortunate tendencies to mimic America's atrocious abuse of the English language. Maybe watching the play would provide some small measure of cultural improvement to clueless American. A nation could hope.

He had been busy with work after the first and second days of the conference, so England didn't get around to calling America until Wednesday. He hoped the other nation hadn't already made plans for Friday, just because it would be such a disappointment to Sealand. England certainly didn't care either way. He dialed the American's number and waited for the line to connect.

"Hey England, whazzup?" an American voice answered.

England shuddered, but valiantly resisted the urge to correct America's grammar. Given the failure of his first thousand attempts to teach America proper grammar, he was beginning to suspect it was a lost cause. After a pause, he remembered the purpose of his call. Puppet play invitation first, correct usage of the English language second.

He cleared his throat. "America, I was wondering if perhaps you might be able to come over to watch a puppet play that Sealand wants to perform on Friday night. He's really quite excited, so I'm hosting a small party. Don't get the wrong impression," he hastily added, "I just wanted more people there for Sealand's sake. For some reason, the boy rather likes you."

America laughed. "Yeah right, England. I bet you've called everyone else and they all said no."

England couldn't decide which was more embarrassing, to admit that America was the first person he called, or to pretend that everyone else had declined his invitation. He settled for avoiding the question and appealing to America's gluttony. "If you come, I'll provide food," he offered. He had never known America to turn down free food.

"Food? Sweet! Okay, I'll come on two conditions. One, you have to come to my Christmas party. Two, you have to order take-out."

England sputtered. "Why in the name of the Queen would I want to go to your party?" He was not pleased that America wanted him at the party. Not in the slightest. It was just a ridiculous party with disgusting food, loud music, and too many nations. England preferred a quiet evening at home.

America snorted. "Come on, it's not like you have anything better to do."

"I'll have you know that I can think of any number of activities I would rather do than watch people eat neon cakes and dress in santa suits."

"Embroidery, gardening, and getting shit-faced are not more fun than hanging out with a hero. In fact, as a hero, it's my duty to save you from your boring self!" America laughed.

"I'm not boring. You're uncultured." England retorted.

"Well, I'll prove I'm not 'uncultured' by watching a Shakespeare play, if you prove you're not boring by coming to my awesome Christmas party."

England scowled, annoyed at himself for walking into the dare. "Fine, we'll order pizza and I'll come to your stupid Christmas party. My delicious cooking is wasted on you anyway. Come over at 7pm on Friday."

"Okay, Iggy, it's a date!"

America laughed as he hung up the phone, just imagining the gloriously red blush on England's face. Annoying England never got old. The older nation was just so adorable when he got flustered that America couldn't resist. And for some reason, America was really good at making him flustered. It was probably because he was a hero.

"Do you have an actual date with England or are you just teasing him again?" Canada asked softly. He was sitting on the hotel sofa with his pet bear on his lap and the remote in his hand. The movie was paused on the screen, which Canada must have done when America answered his cell.

America looked over in surprise. He had forgotten that his brother was even in the room. Then he remembered that of course Canada was in his room because they always watched movies together on Wednesday nights. They had very similar tastes, although Canada liked to complain that America stole his best actors. America couldn't help it that Hollywood was obviously way more awesome than the Great White North. Warmer too.

"England just wanted me to come over on Friday for some Shakespeare puppet play that Sealand is doing. I only said yes because of the free pizza."

"Uh-huh. I can't decide who's more dishonest, you or England."

"What?" America asked as he plopped back down on the couch and shoved some popcorn into his mouth.

Canada sighed. Subtle hints didn't work with America. Blatant hints didn't work with America. Screaming would probably work, but Canada had never been able to reach the necessary volume, so America was just going to have to figure it out on his own. Or maybe he would never figure it out. "Did you forget that you were planning to go see that new horror film with me on Friday?" Canada asked.

"Oh, yeeeah. Sorry, bro. How does a puppet play sound instead?" America grin apologetically. And of course, Canada immediately forgave him. Canada couldn't help it—he handed out forgiveness as liberally as he drizzled maple syrup on pancakes. He needed to start going to AA meetings. Apologetics Anonymous.

"I don't think England invited me," Canada reminded.

America waved a hand dismissively. "I'm sure he won't care."

"You mean he won't notice," Canada corrected with a slightly bitter tone. "I'm sick of being so invisible! You don't remember me half the time. And England doesn't remember me either, even though I was his colony for more than a century. I think France only remembers my name because we have the same hair and France is just that vain."

A determined look crossed America's face. "You're right, Mattie! I'm not going to stand for this any more. Don't worry, the hero will come up with an amazing plan to make sure that people pay attention to you!"

Canada recognized that look. It was the same earnest expression America had before he did something really brave or really stupid, oftentimes both. "That's really not necessary," he said softly, but America ignored him. As usual.

Prussia had expected that England was calling to invite him to go out drinking. The idea of a puppet party was a complete surprise, but Prussia liked Sealand, so he agreed. In his more honest moments, i.e. when he was seriously shit-faced, Prussia would admit of a slight existential dread. He told everyone that he was still around because his nation was just that awesome, certainly too awesome to die due to a simple matter like no longer having a national border or national government or any citizens, but he honestly had no real idea why he still clung to his national immortality when other empires had perished. Prussia liked Sealand because they were both so similar. If Sealand could maintain his existence based on a single Sea Fort, Prussia decided that there was nothing that could destroy his own awesome self.

Plus, Prussia figured that he would definitely be able to find booze in England's house. An old pirate like England was bound to have some nice stockpiles of rum. That way he would have a chance to make Sealand happy and also indulge in some heavy drinking.

However, the party would be a little boring if it was just England and Sealand. So Prussia did the sensible thing. He reached for the old telephone sitting next to the ratty couch in Germany's basement and dialed one of his two favorite numbers.

"Bonjour, mon ami," a seductive voice purred over the line.

"Hey, Francis! Guess who's having a party..."

As he sat sewing the hand puppets for Sealand after calling Prussia on Thursday evening, England felt a cold chill run across his back, giving him a strong sense of foreboding. He tried to ignore it, drinking a pot of tea to calm his nerves, but the feeling stubbornly persisted. It haunted his dreams with a laugh that sounded suspiciously French.

END OF ACT I.

Author's Notes:

Shakespeare References

"Love-in-idleness" is the flower used to make characters fall in love in A Midsummer Night's Dream. England keeps some of it around because FAIRIES. Obviously.

"Exit, pursued by a bear" is a famous stage direction from The Winter's Tale. (The character doesn't actually get mauled on stage, Sealand is using his imagination here.)

Other References

Twinkies were invented in the 1930s. Urban legend claims they have a shelf-life of decades. However, they actually only last for around 25 days. Sealand only thinks the twinkies are from WWII.

"No man is an island" is a quotation from John Donne, an English poet who clearly never anticipated the idea of national personifications :)