Story: White Wedding

Genre: Comedy/Adventure/Stupidity

Characters: England, Russia, America, France, Austria, Hungary, femLatvia, Belarus, Russi-cat and lots of others

Synopsis: Follow-up to Baltics Secrets and Revelations - although you don't need to have read those stories but it might help if you have.

Weddings are wonderful events.. Usually. A chance for two people to declare their love. But things are never simple when you're a Nation. Can Bridezilla Belarus marry the right man? Will Arthur get to the church on time? Will anyone ever be the same again? Warnings: cartoon violence, swearing, silliness

Prologue

England woke up to darkness. He groaned.

There was a lump on the back of his head the size of Jupiter, a bag of some sort over his head and his hands were tied behind his back. He also seemed to be tied to a bag of potatoes. He groaned again.

Where was he? He shuffled and rolled and then froze as there was a groan next to him. He was not alone wherever he was.

And then the floor under him moved.

He realised he was in a moving vehicle of sorts.

He rolled and the bag over his head came off. Emblazoned on it were the words "Royal Mail". This did not reassure him. He blinked in the half light and realised he was in the back of a moving van. He struggled to his knees and the bag of potatoes moved with him. He realised then that he was wearing a suit at least three sizes too big.

England crawled to the connecting window of the driver's cab and peered through. What he saw made him fall back in horror.

The back of a large beige-blond head faced him and violet eyes glared back at him in the van's rear view mirror.

A gruff Russian voice growled, "Lie down, England."

A Scottish voice called through, "Arthur, yer big Jessie, yer'd better do as yer told or yer a goner!"

A cat miaowed - almost in agreement and the hatch on the window closed - cutting England off.

He flung himself down in despair, horror and hopelessness. His own brother and Russia? Where was he going? A Siberian gulag? A Russian saltmine? Or worse still - a Glaswegian jail? He'd known his brother had always wanted to take over from him as the personification of the United Kingdom, but this? And Russia? Perhaps the Russian had snapped in a jealous rage? Could his situation get any worse?

Yes. It could.

There was an indignant yell next to him.

The 'sack of potatoes' tied to him sat up, "Stupid English! Someone will pay for this! I'm sure I have whiplash. My lawyer will be contacting you!" Austria's livid red face peered at him.

England tried to clear his head, this just had to be a bad dream. "Why are you wearing a pink bunny costume?" he said slowly.

To England's dismay it was the wrong half. He averted his eyes from Austria's skinny white hairy legs.

"You don't remember?" Austria asked, frowning.

England noticed that the Austrian had to peer at him as his glasses were broken. "If I did, would I bloody well have to ask? And who the bloody hell hit me on the back of the head?" Arthur answered.

Austria shook his head slowly. "It is best you don't remember. But as a friend and ally…"

England winced.

"…I believe you should know the full story…" Austria said.

Author's Notes:

This is by popular demand (well… about two people have asked for this). I'm going to try to make this a fairly short story - compared to my others. I appreciate all reviews and PMs - any suggestions are welcome! Ideas for future plots/scenarios are welcome.