Hello everyone! This is my first fanfic, so be nice when reviewing. Well, there's Road Trip, but technically this is my first because I started writing this one first. It's a sort of songfic crossover between Hetalia and Aida. Basically what I'm doing is using the music of Aida to tell a story using Hetalia characters. It may end up being really lame, but hopefully it will be awesome. Also, I'm not changing any of the lyrics to better suit my story, so parts of it will probably be awkward. This is an experiment.

This story takes place during World War II and is a Germanyxfem!France fic with fem!Italy and some Britain, as well as Germany's boss and possibly Italy's boss. Also, this story operates under the assumptions that not only are the characters both human and personified nations, but also that they die and/or are relieved from that duty and new people take their place as the country and culture changes. That was the only explanation I could think of as to why Germany and France wouldn't have met before…

Last thing, if you notice any historical inaccuracies, PLEASE point them out to me. I would greatly appreciate it.

Enjoy!

Every story, tale or memoir
Every saga or romance
Whether true or fabricated
Whether planned or happenstance

Ludwig stood tall and patiently awaited his orders. He had been trained since birth to become the perfect soldier: strong, confident, proud, obedient…
He took great pride in the fact that he was chosen to be the human personification of his country. He was chosen not only because he was the perfect soldier, but also because he was an Aryan. After all, having the correct lineage was very important to his boss.

Whether sweeping through the ages
Casting centuries aside
Or a hurried brief recital
Just a thirty-minute ride

Arthur nervously paced back and forth. His green eyes darted around the room. He knew what was going to happen. He just didn't know when it would happen. The anticipation was driving him crazy.

He jumped when his tea kettle whistled. After taking a moment to calm down, he made his way over to fix himself a cup of tea. Tea was his comfort food. He could always think better after he's had a cup of tea.

Whether bright or melancholy
Rough and ready, finely spun
Whether with a thousand players
Or a lonely cast of one

A paintbrush was smoothly dragged across a blank canvas. Then another one. And another. Stroke after passionate stroke slowly filled the canvas with vibrant color. Feliciana sighed and stepped back to observe her work. She tucked a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. She loved to paint. This room, her painting room, was one of two places where the world still made sense. The other was her closet. She loved fashion almost as much as she loved painting.

Every story, new or ancient
Bagatelle or work of art
All are tales of human failing
All are tales of love at heart

Francine leaned back in her favorite chair. She ran a hand through her golden hair as she reached for her book. Reading romance novels always helped her to relax in times of stress. If she ever needed something to get her mind off of everything, now would be the time. Everything just seemed so… wrong. It was as if the whole world was upside down and backwards.

This is the story
Of a love that flourished
In a time of hate

Francine sighed wistfully as she turned a page. Her mind was now fully engaged in her book.

Of lovers no tyranny could separate

Feliciana cleaned her paintbrushes and put them away. With a heavy sigh, she left the room. It was time to return to work.

Love set into motion on the Nile's shore

Arthur shakily set his empty cup onto its saucer. He could not shake the thought that it could happen at any moment. He walked over to the teapot to prepare himself another cup of tea.

Destiny ignited by an act of war

Ludwig saluted his boss and left the room. He now had the orders he had been expecting. His orders were to invade France.

Egypt saw the mighty river
As its very heart and soul
Source of life for all her people
That only Egypt could control

Everyone knew it was going to happen. They just weren't sure when or how. France and England had both made a pact with Poland. Germany had invaded Poland. It was only a matter of time…

Destruction of her southern neighbor justified
Nubia exploited, left with little more than pride

It was only a matter of time until the fighting came to France's soil…