The year was 1910. The sun was just rising over the city of London, causing beautiful colors to peek just over the edges of the gloomy clouds.

Upon one of these clouds sat a man with unkempt blonde hair, bushy eyebrows and captivating green eyes. The most prominent feature of his appearance, however—aside from the fact that he was sitting on a cloud—was the fact that he was wearing a dress.

It was a very plain dress, a simple thing that was somewhere between black and navy blue. Upon his head sat a rather feminine hat dappled with flowers, and the orange scarf around his neck seemed to bring the whole outfit together.

The man stared into a little pocket mirror, fussing with his hair; occasionally pulling up the bag and umbrella, which kept trying to sink through the cloud. He wanted to look his best for what lay in store.


Far below, a crowd stood around a very talented one-man-band. His name was Francis Bonnefoy, and everyone in town knew him as the nutty Frenchman who was apparently something different everyday. Today, he was an entertainer. He had long, wavy blonde hair; which despite his habit to not bathe often always looked soft and touchable. His chin was brushed with stubble. This, combined with the hair and lovely cerulean eyes, made him a devilishly attractive fellow. While deep down, he had a very flamboyant fashion sense, he was dressed very plainly (so as to not "intimidate the tacky British people", he would say).

Francis played a pleasant tune on his concertina, occasionally blowing the horn next to his head or beating on the drum on his back. Finishing his song, he took a bow as his audience applauded. While he was perfectly fluent in English, he heavily peppered his language with words of his native tongue, as it added a certain flair to his character.

"Très bien, mesdames et messieurs… A comical poem, suited for the occasion, extemporized and thought of before your very eyes." Luckily, he knew just about everyone here—not to mention he had always been very clever—so this wouldn't be at all difficult. "Room here for everyone, gather around—the constable response-table, now how does that sound?"

Constable Beilschmidt—a rather sociopathic albino of whom everyone was a little afraid—sniggered as Francis went on.

Turning to a small Japanese businessman, he continued: "Bonjour, Monsieur Honda, I have one pour vous…" he thought for a split-second, then said, "Kiku… likes to stew… in his bath, in ze loo."

Kiku's face turned bright red, and the crowd let out a few giggles. It was a well-known fact that Mr. Honda was rather obsessive when it came to bathing. The French entertainer turned and searched the crowd until he found another face he could make up a poem about.

"Monsieur Braginski, a story for you: Your sisters were taller than you… but you grew."

This made everyone including him laugh. It was a well-known fact that Ivan Braginski seemed to tower over nearly everyone in London. His two sisters stood on either side of him, leaning up against his sturdy form.

Moving on, Francis stopped before the Greek man who was known to take in stray cats. "Monsieur Karpusi…" he began, but stopped to gaze up at the sky as a gust of wind blew his long hair across his face.

"Yes…?" prompted the Grecian, but Francis seemed preoccupied, his face unreadable.

"Winds in the east…" he murmured, "… mist coming in… like something is brewing, about to begin… Je ne sais pas… quite what lies in store… But I feel what's to happen… all happened before."

People in the crowd glanced at each other in confusion, and Francis shook the thoughts out of his head. "Je suis désolé, where was I?" he said with a large, fake smile, and proceeded to rip into an upbeat tune on his concertina. He ended with a grand finale of much drumming and horn-tooting, and finally crashed a cymbal into his face.

Everyone applauded, and the crowd began to scatter. Francis held out his hat, hoping to get a few donations for his tiring work, and did end up with a couple.

Strolling down Cherry Tree Lane, he passed the home of Admiral Jones, the half-mad ex-captain who lived in his ship of a house with his old First Mate Williams. They periodically shot off their cannons, resulting in a neighborhood-wide earthquake.

Also on this street, in house number seventeen, lived the rather dysfunctional Edelstein family. And right now, they were having a bit of a fiasco.


"I wouldn't stay in this house another minute, not even if you gave me all the chocolate in Belgium!"

"Oh, please, Nanny Bella, you can't go!" whined the Lithuanian servant, standing between the nanny and the door.

"Step away from that door."

"But what will I tell Miss Eliza when she comes home?"

"It's no concern of mine. They've run away from me for the last time."

Toris continued begging the nanny not to leave, but she refused. Feliks, who had never liked Bella in the first place, shrugged and returned to the kitchen.

Elizabeta chose this moment to make her entrance, singing songs from her rally. She was a headstrong woman, and in many ways was more manly than her husband. She could easily be the head of the family, if not for the state of things during that time.

"Good evening, Nanny Bella, Toris. We had the most glorious meeting. Lili chained herself to the prime minister's carriage—you should've been there!"

Not allowing the Belgian nanny to tell her a single thing, she broke into a song from her suffrage group. "We're clearly soldiers in petticoats, dauntless crusaders for women's votes! Though we adore men individually, we agree that as a group they're rather stupid…"

Toris and Feliks immediately joined in, despite both being male; they knew better than to try and stop Elizabeta when she was singing.

Right in the middle of her finale, however, she was interrupted by the nanny. "What is it, Nanny Bella?"

"I have something to say to you."

"Where are the boys?"

"The children, to be precise, are not here. They've gone and disappeared again."

After quite a bit of confusion, the nanny finally got her point across that the children were missing and she was sick of it.

"Please—think of my husband," Eliza begged, "he was just starting to get used to it."

Glancing at the time, Toris's eyes widened. "Posts, everyone!"

He, Feliks and Eliza all dashed off in different directions to hold their belongings stable while Admiral Jones fired his cannons, setting off quite a bit of chaos in the house for a few minutes. It was mainly vitally important for Mr. Edelstein's grand piano to be unharmed.

And speaking of Roderich Edelstein, he was returning home from work, in an exceptionally good mood.

Glancing up at Alfred in his perch, he said cheerfully, "Aren't you a bit early tonight, Admiral?"

"Nonsense, I'm always on time," the American said. "How are things in the world of instruments?"

"Never better! Thanks to some performer fellow in the park, concertinas have been selling exceptionally well lately."

Roderich continued without listening to whatever it was Alfred said, in such a good mood that he stopped and helped Bella put her things into the carriage.

"I feel a surge of deep satisfaction," he stated as he entered his house, "much as a king aside his noble steed. When I return from daily strife to hearth and wife… How pleasant is the life I lead!"

"Dear, it's about the children…" Eliza began, worried, but he waved her off and continued his musical monologue.

"I run my home precisely on schedule. At six-oh-one, I march through my door. My violin and bow are due at six-oh-two… Consistent is the life I lead!"

"Roderich, they're missing!"

He ignored her until he was finished, then sat down with his violin and looked up. "Elizabeta? Where are the children?"

"They're not here."

"Why, of course they're here! Where else would they be?"

"I don't know, Roderich, but they're missing. Nanny Bella has looked everywhere."

Roderich immediately got up, set down the violin, and called the police to report them missing. The doorbell rang, and Elizabeta answered it to see Constable Beilschmidt, so he hung up.

"While going about mein duties the park, I found some valuables that I believe belong to you," the German policeman said, his red eyes rather disturbing the room's occupants.

"Valuables?" Roderich echoed.

The constable turned and beckoned them in—two small boys, one slightly older than the other.

"Feli… Lovi," Eliza said, relieved, hugging the two. Being unable to have children of their own, the Edelsteins had adopted the brothers while touring Italy. They thought of the boys as their own children, of course, having had them since infancy.

"I'm sorry we lost Nanny Bella," Feliciano, the younger brother, said miserably. "But, you see, our kite flew off into the park, and we had to go get it…"

"It wasn't a very good kite, though," added Lovino. "We made it ourselves, and the genius here insisted on adding that heavy glitter…"

"I wanted to make it pretty!" Feliciano protested.

"You can't blame them," said Gilbert Beilschmidt. "Kites are skittish things, you know…"

"Thank you, Constable, that'll be all," said Roderich, annoyed. The albino left, and Toris escorted the children upstairs.

"Elizabeta," Roderich said crossly, "this is the fourth nanny that's left us this month. Choosing a nanny is an important and delicate task. It requires insight, balanced judgment, and the ability to read character. I think I shall take it upon myself to find a new nanny. I'll put it in the times. Take this down, dear…"

Eliza sat down and wrote down Roderich's very to-the-point and rather intimidating description of the perfect nanny.

"Father?" came a feeble voice. Roderich turned to see his sons standing in the doorway, in their pajamas, Lovino holding a piece of paper.

"We've discussed everything, and we're very sorry about running away," recited Lovino. "It was wrong to run from Nanny Bella."
"I should certainly think so," Roderich agreed.

"We wrote an advertisement for the new nanny," piped up Feliciano.

Reluctantly, and with Eliza's approval, Roderich allowed Feliciano to read it. While he was younger, he was in some ways more mature than his brother.

"Wanted: a nanny for two bambini adorabili. If you want this choice position,

Have a cheery disposition. Rosy cheeks, no warts—"

"That's the part in!" Lovino pointed out.

"Play games, all sorts. You must be kind, you must be witty, very sweet and fairly pretty. Take us on outings, give us treats, sing songs, bring sweets. Never be cross or cruel, never give us castor oil or gruel. Love us as a son and daughter, and never smell of barley water~"

"I put that in too," Lovino added proudly.

Feliciano continued. "If you won't scold and dominate us, we will never give you cause to hate us. We won't hide your spectacles so you can't see, put toads in your bed or pepper in your tea… Hurry, Nanny! That'd be fine, sincerely…"

"Feli and Lovi Edelstein," they both said simultaneously.

Roderich was silent for a moment, then waved them off. "Thank you, children, now off to bed."

Heads hung low, the boys returned to the nursery.

"They were only trying to help, they're just children," Eliza pointed out.

"Which is exactly why they can't be trusted to make any decisions!" Roderich snapped, ripping up the children's advertisement and throwing it into the fireplace.


From what I've seen, Hetalia-Disney crossovers have not been done very much or very well. I intend to do several of these, starting with what might be my favorite movie of all time- Mary Poppins. The main character of each of my Disneytalia works will always be the country in which the movie takes place.

Reviews would be nice~! We'll get to see Arthur in action in chapter 2!