It was International Story Telling Day, a day that came every year since America declared it so 5 years ago. Every nation's attendance was mandatory even if only a few nations got to share their tales. Arthur Kirkland didn't even attempt to hide the boredom on his face as the self-proclaimed leader of the nations finished up the story he told every single year.

"...and so Superman took Lois Lane in his arms and they flew around in the sky and Lois gave him his victory kiss. The end," America finished, looking smug. Some countries applauded: a few of America's former colonies, Italy, Russia, some of the younger nations, and those polite enough to give a polite clap or two. America bowed and took his seat.

'Finally,' England thought to himself. At least they got America's predictable and repetitive story over with.

"Now, who's next?" America shouted into the microphone, pretending to be a game show host. A few raised their hands.

"Italy, we've already heard 'How Pasta was Invented' last time," America said to the eager Italy.

"But this one's about pizza!"

"Italy, if it's about food, then no. We don't want repetitive stories on boring subjects," America declared with finality.

'This coming from the guy who retells the story of Superman every year," thought England. This story telling day occasion was getting old.

"No, no, no," America said to all the countries raising their hands. "You already told stories before. Is there anyone else who hasn't told a story yet?"

England couldn't suppress his irritation, "So why do you get to tell the same story every year, you bugger?"

America suddenly stood up and gave his signature smile. "'Cause I'm the he-" he said with a self-satisfied smile before France interrupted him.

"Wait a minute, mon amis, I believe our friend, the English gentleman hasn't shared a story yet.

England became even more annoyed. "I don't have a stupid story you idiot!" he practically shouted.

Meanwhile, America looked through his checklist of countries. "There has to be someone else who hasn't shared yet," the ones closest heard him mutter softly to himself.

England and France were still shouting at each other when America said, "England is the only one who hasn't shared yet, so I guess there's no choice. Go ahead then Iggy, this better be a good one."

France sat down with a satisfied smile and America did too. Arthur was now the only one standing, quite awkwardly, in front of the countries with a microphone in hand.

He huffed out loudly in irritation, annoyance and anger, using the pause to think of an acceptable story. The one that came up in his head was a story that he hadn't told anyone for a long time. The last person he told it too was standing at the head of the table, looking expectantly at him to begin. With no other options, he let out a sigh and begun his tale.

"In the distant kingdom of Camelot..." England began, only to be interrupted by America.

"Oh, I've already heard this one, Iggy," America complained. "And you accuse me of repetition."

"Shut up America," Germany snapped before England could give his own retort. "Not all of us have heard this story."

"But I have," America insisted.

"Just because you've already heard..." Arthur began his angry reply but drifted off when he saw some of his fairy friends hovering over the nations' heads.

"England?" Italy said loudly, waving a hand in front of England's face. "Yoohoo, England!"

England snapped back to the present. "Huh? What?"

"You were with your fairy friends again weren't you? You know, the ones that don't exist," America teased.

"Why I ought to-" he started off again before being interrupted, for the nth time. Was he really that easy to interrupt?

"Let's get on with the story, oui?" France said, taking advantage of every opportunity to use his native tongue.

Arthur breathed in deeply and started again, trying to ignore the antics of his fairy friends. "In the distant kingdom of Camelot the people were in a state of deep unrest. They didn't have a ruler and they didn't know who to put on a throne. They had only one clue and it was a sword in a stone. The one who could pull it out would be the true ruler of all of Britain..."

Before he could continue his fairy friends started doing their magic, to what end he wasn't sure. All he could see were the intent, listening faces of the countries slowly fading away and he was too. Then a strange sensation of falling overcame him then his eyes opened to an all-too-familiar scene. The fairies had taken them to Camelot.