Day 1: Introductions
Sure, they saw each other around. They were nations, they were both pretty old. But Prussia had never really had much to do with tiny Lichtenstein. Either he was busy fighting, or raising Germany, or fighting, or servicing Russia (he still had conflicting feelings about that), or being too awesome in general to spend much time or effort thinking about her. All he knew was that she was tiny, blonde, green-eyed and dressed in horrible Lolliwear. Besides, she had Switzerland hovering around her shoulder, and Switzerland annoyed the hell out of Prussia. Nations who were as unawesome as Austria should not hold delusions of Prussian-level awesomeness.
But now, here he was, no longer a nation, not even a state or province of Germany, and Lichtenstein was still a principality with a lot of money and a seat at the table of nations. Sure, Germany had thrown Prussia the bone of Berlin and Pottsdam, but they weren't enough to get him into the meetings. He'd crash them, get thrown out, eavesdrop at the door, get France and Spain to gossip with him over dinner later, and then put news on his awesome blog. All blind items, of course. Germany would grumble and complain, America would holler about international security breaches, but Prussia's blog was getting too many hits and subscribers to stop. He was finally making some money off his advertisers too. He enjoyed the power of teasing his readers with hints about the shenanigans of nations and the nations' own curiosity and fear about whether t hey figured or not in his posts. He was feeling his old swagger coming back.
So one day, during the lunch break, the day after he had posted a particularly juicy blind item ("Somebody's talking about getting off the euro—or shall we say, someone is getting off ON the euro"), he was not surprised to be surrounded by curious nations. He wasn't surprised when Lichtenstein sidled up to him, and waited politely for Spain to stop digging for clues (Poor nervous Spain). He wasn't impressed when she shyly said, "I really enjoy your blog, Gilbert."
Gilbert Beilschmidt smiled his best public grin, said, "Danke," and was about to turn, when he felt a hand on his arm. A small soft hand. He looked down and saw her smile and say, "I have a blog too. Want the address?"
"Sure," he said. He didn't have to read it, he figured. To his surprise, she scanned the hall, then whispered, "your phone." He did a double-take, and when she repeated the command, her voice was lower and more forceful than he had imagined. He handed it to her and she typed in the address. "It's invitation only," she whispered. Then her voice returned to its normal high tone. "Great work on the blog, Gilbert!" She left.
The awesome Prussia stared down at the text she left: Lilli's_. And a phone number. For some strange reason, he decided he would actually read it.