Tell Me A Story.
Chapter 1: From The Beginning.
Couples: PruCan, FrUk, GerIta.

Tell me a story where words are a virtue. Tell me a story where the hero is a savior. Tell me a story that has striving, but that small gleam of hope at the end of the dark tunnel is what keeps people going; the hope that promises a new future, with happiness, and love. Tell me a story that begins on the field of grass; the field that was once covered in the blood of those who held onto hope. Tell me a story that I'd love to hear.

~~~
The young nation was lost in the grass. It tickled his chin as he walked, but it didn't effect him. It would've been knee-high to anyone who was grown. The nation knew he was small. He knew he was going to be found and colonized soon. He hoped whoever was going to colonize him was decent, and didn't tax him too badly.

The nation stood on the very tip of his toes, looking for a way out. Nothing. He decided that if he had just continued walking in one single direction, he'd eventually find a way out. So that's what the nation did. The sun was about to set when he reached a small patch of cut grass. There was a willow tree, which he quickly ran under. He rested against the base of the tree, hoping to be found soon.

~~~ (Canada's P.O.V.)
"Who are you?" a voice asked, laced with a French accent. I bolted awake, and looked at him, standing up. Little did I know; I'd hear that same question often. I looked up at the man in front of me. "I'm France. My human name is Francis, though."

"I-I'm Canada," I mumbled, stumbling over my words, "My human name is Matthew." France got down on his knees, getting on eye level with me.

"You're from the new world, non?" France asked softly, I nodded. "I'll be your big brother then! I'll make sure you get the supplies you need, and meet the other countries! Angleterre got a new little brother, too. He's America. Do you know him?"

"He's my twin brother," I said softly, looking down. I looked up to see the man standing up. "Don't l-leave me!" I said a little desperately.

"Of course not!" he said proudly, before lifting me up. I was seated on his arm, and I quickly wrapped my own arms around his neck to keep from moving around too much. I eventually rested my head on his shoulder, falling asleep. After all; he did interrupt my nap.

~~~ (France's P.O.V.)

Eventually, I arrived at Arthur's house. I knocked on the door lightly, and the loud Englishman came to the door. He looked as if he was about to yell, but stopped when he saw Matthew sleeping. He quickly invited me in.

"I'll go get America, and then you'll explain," he said sternly, as he headed in the child's room. I laughed a little, and went into the living room, sitting on the couch, cradling Matthew in my arms. He seemed so innocent and sweet. His hair was a lighter color than Alfred's, and his eyes were a striking lavender-blue color. He had a wispy curl sticking out against the rest of his hair. I rocked him softly, and Alfred burst into the room. I sighed as Canada woke up in a startle. Poor Matthew.

"Okay, who is this?" Arthur asked as he sat down across from me, and Alfred sat in his lap.

"I'm Matthew!" he exclaimed softly, and sat up.

"He's Canada; Alfred's twin," I explained further. Arthur nodded.

"Dad! Can they live with us now?" Alfred piped up.

"Absolutely not!" Arthur snapped, scaring both of the small nations. Alfred pouted.

"Can I call you Papa?" Matthew asked softy, looking up at me.

"Of course, Matthew!" I said, a smile finding its way to my face. I kissed his forehead softly.

~~Years Later~~ (Canada's P.O.V.)

I lived with a small polar bear Papa got me. His name was Kumachico… Kumajo? Something of the sort. I've been a free nation for a while now. Alfred was free, too. Although he was obnoxiously loud, and every time someone even noticed me, they'd think I was Alfred. Everyone forgot me now. Sometimes Papa would see me, and say hello, but when he didn't; that's when it stung. By now I've gotten used to being forgotten by everyone. I gave up trying.

That's what made my encounter with a certain Prussian even more special.

"Sorry, Canada," an albino said, as he bumped into me. I stopped in my tracks. He actually knew it was me.

"It's fine," I whispered with a smile. I looked at him, and recognized the ex-nation. I watched him sit down. He wasn't in the meeting today. I sat next to him cautiously. "Are you waiting for Germany?" I asked, looking at him.

"Ja," he said, an arm going up to scratch the back of his head. "You waiting on America?"

"I think he's gone already, he always leaves me behind, and comes back a few hours later to pick me up," I whispered, looking at my lap.

"Does it bug you?"

"Does what bug me?"

"Being forgotten," he stated softly.

"It only hurts when Papa forgets me. He raised me, how could he forget me?" I stated more to myself than to the ex-nation next to me. I felt tears stinging my eyes.

"Your Papa is France, correct?" I looked at him; he was looking down at his feet. His voice was sorrowful, but seemed as if he was relating.

"Oui. Prussia; if you don't mind me asking, are you forgotten, too?"

"I know it's nothing in comparison to you, but whenever Ludwig brings his lover, Italy, home, I seem to not exist anymore. I can't go to my own home anymore, because it's not really there anymore," he said, pausing every so often to take a breath. He seemed like he was about to cry. I scooted a bit closer, and rubbed his back a little.

"I know we're not much of friends, but you can come over to my house. I'm not really ever busy. I usually entertain myself by learning new hobbies. I could teach you some, if you'd like," I stated, with a smile.

"Really?" he asked, looking up at me, hopeful.

"Sure." I smiled once more before noticing America racing towards us.

"Dude, I totally forgot you, again! Let's go, I want to get home!" he whined, I waved to Gilbert, and climbed into Alfred's navy blue Chevy pick-up.