Author's Note: Please do take note that the stories featured are rewritten to fit the characters so, while the basic plot is the same, I changed the story so it is not exactly the same as the original. All additional information will be revealed at the end of the chapter.

Chapter-Specific Warnings: violence, some disgusting themes, cannibalism


If the blank page had eyes, it would probably be staring back at America, as well. The staring competition becoming weird and uncomfortable, he looked up, only to be greeted by an even more awkward scenario. Everybody was looking at him, waiting for him to say or do something and he had absolutely nothing. For once in his life, America wished that he could be invisible like Canada.

"Well?" UN asked him expectantly. "Don't be shy. Come up here to the podium and share your story with us."

America looked back down at the page and covered it with his hands.

"You see…" His voice died in his throat as he tried to think up a good excuse.

"Yes?"

Being stared at by everyone wasn't really helping him make up some improbable story as to why he didn't have a story in the first place.

"Well… I sorta…" He had to stall for time. If he kept this up for long enough, either UN would give up and choose someone else or he might just think up a brilliant idea that would blow everybody's minds. That's the plan for now.

UN exhaled slowly in the same way he usually did when he was losing his patience. "America, just –"

"I'm back from the bathroom, everybody!" Prussia loudly declared as he entered the room like such an act required an announcement. "Your first storyteller is here!"

To America, he was a godsend.

"Prussia, America had already been chosen as the first storyteller," UN explained.

Prussia looked at America as if studying his every move right down to the shallowest of breaths. America stared back, trying to will himself into developing telepathy just so he could tell Prussia that he didn't want to go first. After looking at him for what seemed to be hours but was actually just a minute, Prussia turned towards UN.

"I'm starting," he said simply. "He obviously doesn't want to."

America breathed out in relief.

"Is that right, America?" UN inquired.

America nodded vigorously. "I-I'm saving mine for later," he said, trying to make his voice sound less relieved than he felt. "We need to get everybody warmed up before you could listen to my amazing story; the epicness might make your head explode if you have me go first."

"Right…" UN didn't sound so convinced, but he wasn't complaining so it was still good. "It appears we would be starting the activity with Prussia."

"Good," Prussia said as he strode towards the podium. "You should always begin activities like these with an experienced storyteller, not some amateur."

"Aren't you going to get your notebook or notes first?" UN asked him.

Prussia grinned and ruffled UN's hair. "Don't need any," he said and pointed to his head. "It's all in here."

UN didn't seem too happy with being treated like a child, but he remained calm. "The floor is yours, then," he said as he retreated to his tiny mattress some feet off to the side of the podium.

"Okay, let's get this activity started," Prussia said, taking his place at the podium. "Somebody here was complaining two weeks ago about my stories being told too much." He shot a look at Ghana who merely gave him a mocking smirk. "So I decided to tell one that I haven't told as often. Just a fair warning," he continued in a grave voice so unlike his usual tone. "Fairy tales are no strangers to the darker side of humanity."


Meine Mutti: She Killed Me; Mein Vati: He Ate Me

There was once a maiden, a lovely girl full life and wonder who spent her days in the company of nature, wandering and singing. She had a voice so beautiful that the birds would come down from the trees, entranced, just to hear her sing. For this, the villagers called her Daina, which meant "song".

One day, the birds stopped singing as if there was a great danger approaching. In the winter of that year, men dressed in iron mail and helms of steel from faraway lands came to her village bearing arms. They were not there to fight, they said, but to save them from themselves and the darkness that lay within their hearts, but they could not have been the saviours they claimed themselves to be for they killed many who did not agree with them and the snow steamed and turned red with the blood that they spilled.

Daina ran. She ran into the forest, away from the sounds of battle and death. Behind her, the terrible moans of the fallen continued to follow deeper into the woods and she knew that she would be among them if she did not run faster.

She tried to escape, but a young warrior with hair of gold blocked her path. She was trapped, so she did the only thing she could do: She tried to kill him, even if the only weapons she had were her bare hands and the shawl around her shoulders. She hated him. He killed her people, but she was going to kill him before he killed her.

The warrior, Adalbert, didn't want to fight. He couldn't bring himself to kill this girl who looked so sweet and lovely and frightened but fought back with the ferocity of a wild animal. He threw down his sword at her feet in surrender.

At that moment, Daina realized that the man before her was not an enemy, but there was still the danger of swords behind them, so they fled to a distant place where they could never be followed and lived as husband and wife. Although she had hated him at first, Daina eventually grew to truly love her husband and they lived peacefully in the little cottage that they built. For many years, nothing disturbed their quiet lives: Adalbert became a hunter and Daina tended to a small vegetable garden near their house.

One winter day, Daina, heavy with child, stood beneath the juniper tree in her little garden, peeling apples while her husband was away in the forest. Accidentally, she cut her finger and her blood trickled down onto the snow, deep red against immaculate whiteness. Years ago, the sight had frightened her, but, now, nothing could have been more beautiful in her eyes.

"I wish I could have a child as white as snow and as red as blood," she said softly.

Her wish was granted and she gave birth to a son as white as newly-fallen snow, from the tufts of flaxen hair on his head to the soles of his tiny feet, except for his eyes which were as red as freshly-shed blood. The new mother never got to hold her child for she died almost as soon as he had been born. With her very last breath, she named him and died with a smile on her lips.

Gilbert, as his mother had named him, grew to be a playful lad. He was an active and inquisitive boy, always out in the garden, tending to the plants his dear mother had grown, or exploring the forests near their home. The villagers knew him as a troublemaker, forever bringing mischief wherever he went, and his father never heard the end of their complaints. There never seemed to be a day when somebody didn't come to the door of their house to tell Adalbert of the trouble his son had caused in the village.

"The little hellion plugged all my flutes with mud," the reedmaker, an irritable man by the name of Roderich, complained one day.

"He got into my house and broke my frying pan," Erzsébet said another day as she twisted Gilbert's ear and held up the pan that she had dented when she had whacked him over the head.

Unable to control his son, Adalbert decided to marry again, hoping that having a mother around would keep Gilbert out of trouble. He married Gisela, a beautiful woman with blonde hair and blue eyes who had been rumoured to be very good with children. However, she did not like Gilbert at all, giving him hard work to do while she doted on Monika, her own daughter with Adalbert.

Gilbert, being of a naturally cheerful and amiable demeanour, bore no grudge against his stepmother and loved his half-sister dearly. The more time he spent with her, the less he spent playing tricks and causing mischief in the village and the villagers were very thankful for that. He always took care of her and played with her, showing her all the great things that he had discovered in the forest.

"My mother is buried beneath this tree," he told her one day as they sat in the branches of the juniper tree. "When I die, I want you to bury me here, too."

Monika looked at him and frowned. "Don't joke about things like that," she said. "It's not funny."

Gilbert merely threw his head back and laughed. "You're always so serious, you know?"

"And you're never serious enough," she said with a sigh. "Come now. We still have to dig up the potatoes. It's best to get things done before it gets too dark."

With a nod, Gilbert dropped to the ground and helped Monika down the tree. They got to work, diligently digging up the potatoes and placing them in a basket so that they would have something to eat when their father got home. Before long, they had dug up all the potatoes and all that was left to do was to wash them.

"I will go get us a bucket," Gilbert said as he headed back towards the cottage.

For a while now, Gisela had been haunted by dark thoughts. She wanted her own daughter to inherit all of what little wealth Adalbert could leave to his children and, to achieve that, she had to get rid of Gilbert, so she decided to kill him. It would be easy, since the boy had always trusted her completely.

She filled a heavy-lidded chest with fine red apples and waited for her stepson to enter the house.

"Here. Get some apples for you and your sister," she told him, leading him towards the chest.

Without suspicion, Gilbert followed his stepmother and, when he had leaned down over the chest, she mercilessly slammed the lid down on his neck.

Almost as soon as Gilbert's head was severed from his body, Gisela was overcome with fear. She had not planned of what to do when she had killed her stepson. Surely, someone would find out about her dark deed. She had to hide what she had done, so she carefully drained away all his blood and washed him clean so that no trace remained. Then, she sat him on the chair beside the door with an apple in his hands, his head tied to his neck with a handkerchief.

A while later, Monika returned with their basket of potatoes, cross that Gilbert had not returned with the bucket. Seeing him sitting idly by the door, she addressed him exasperatedly. "I should have known you would have run away," she said, but he didn't answer. "I had to wash the potatoes at the well all by myself while you were here eating."

When he still didn't answer, she went inside the house and found her mother cleaning the floor.

"Mutti, Gilbert didn't do his chores today," she said as she put her basket on the table. "He left me to do everything."

"Go tell him that I want to see him and if he doesn't come, grab his ear and drag him inside," Gisela said.

Monika did as she was told and told her brother to go inside the house. Once more, he did not answer, so she grabbed him by the ear and his head came off when she tried to yank him forward. Thinking that she had killed her own brother, she ran to her mother in tears with her brother's head cradled in her arms.

"Do not cry," Gisela told her daughter comfortingly. "Nobody will ever find out what you had done."

She had the perfect plan. She chopped up his body so that nobody would be able to recognize him, ground the meat and used his intestines to make wurst. When her husband came home from hunting, she cooked the wurst and served it with mashed potatoes.

"Where is Gilbert?" Adalbert asked as they all sat down to eat.

"He's around, I'm sure," Gisela assured him. "He'll be in a while."

Adalbert nodded and continued to eat. "Monika, why aren't you eating?" he asked his daughter, noticing that she had not touched her plate.

"I'm not hungry," she replied. She felt sick to her stomach.

Excusing herself from the table, she went to the kitchen where she gathered up her brother's bones in her cape. She snuck out into the garden and buried his bones beneath the juniper tree where he had told her his mother was. When she was done, she wept over his grave, her tears red like blood.

As she left to go back inside, a little yellow bird flew out from the branches of the juniper tree. It went to Erzsébet's house, alighted on her windowsill, and began to sing.

Meine Mutti: she killed me,

Mein Vati: he ate me,

And my little sister, Monika:

Gathered up all my bones,

Wrapped them in her woollen cape,

And laid them to rest beneath the juniper tree,

Come out and listen to my song.

Erzsébet opened her window, delighted by the little bird's song. "Little yellow bird," she said. "If you sing for me again, I will give you one of my daggers in exchange. Would you like that?"

The bird sang again and Erzsébet gave him a beautiful dagger with a finely-sharpened edge which he carried off to the juniper tree.

Next, he went to the house of the grouchy reedmaker. Perched on the branch of the tree beside his workshop's window, he began to sing.

Meine Mutti: she killed me,

Mein Vati: he ate me,

And my little sister, Monika:

Gathered up all my bones,

Wrapped them in her woollen cape,

And laid them to rest beneath the juniper tree,

Come out and listen to my song.

Being a lover of music, Roderich stuck his head out the window to listen to the bird better. "Little yellow bird," he called out. "Please sing for me again and I will give you one of my whistles."

The bird sang again and gained a whistle that could mimic the sound of ducks so well that they approached anyone who blew it which he brought to the juniper tree.

Then, he went to the stone house on a hill where a man named Toris lived with his eccentric wife. He perched on the windowsill and began to sing.

Meine Mutti: she killed me,

Mein Vati: he ate me,

And my little sister, Monika:

Gathered up all my bones,

Wrapped them in her woollen cape,

And laid them to rest beneath the juniper tree,

Come out and listen to my song.

Toris opened the window and saw the little bird. "Felicja, there's a strange bird singing at our window," he called to his wife in a frightened voice.

"Let me hear!" Felicja answered, pushing past her husband to see the little bird for herself. "Sing for me again, little yellow bird."

Once more, the little bird sang his mournful song.

Felicja clasped her hands together in glee. "We should, like, give him a gift!" she told her husband.

"But what do we give to a bird?" Toris asked his wife.

Felicja retreated to the kitchen with a thoughtful look on her face. "We could give him this," she said when she returned, producing a grinding stone.

"How can he even carry that?" Toris said in disbelief.

The little yellow bird didn't seem to mind and carried the grinding stone off to the juniper tree with an unnatural strength. Once the items were arranged in the branches, he began to sing once more.

Meine Mutti: she killed me,

Mein Vati: he ate me,

And my little sister, Monika:

Gathered up all my bones,

Wrapped them in her woollen cape,

And laid them to rest beneath the juniper tree,

Come out and listen to my song.

"What is that sound?" Adalbert asked when he heard the strange singing coming from outside.

Monika immediately stood up. "I will look," she said as she went outside.

She followed the singing to the foot of the juniper tree. The little bird dropped the dagger from the branches. Skilfully, she caught the dagger as it fell.

"It's so sharp," she said, testing its blade. "I will finally have something for when I work. Thank you, little yellow bird."

When she went back inside and told her tale and showed them the beautiful dagger, Adalbert went outside to check if it was true. He went to the foot of the juniper tree and the little bird dropped the whistle at his feet. He blew on it and ducks gathered around him.

"I will be able to use this when I hunt," he said as left to go back inside. "Thank you, little yellow bird."

Wanting a gift for herself as well, Gisela ran out of the house to the juniper tree, but when she stood beneath its branches to receive her gift, the little bird dropped the heavy grinding stone from the branches. It landed on her head and all she could do was cry out as it did.

Startled by the noise, Adalbert and Monika ran out into the garden, only to see Gisela dead beneath the juniper tree.

Before they could do anything else, the tree began to smoke and spark and the whole tree became engulfed in flames. They looked on as it burned to the ground and nothing was left but a pile of ashes. Everything was still for a moment, then something began to stir beneath the remains of the juniper tree and, out of the ashes, Gilbert emerged, alive and well, and told them of what Gisela had done to him.

After everything that had happened, Gilbert, Monika and Adalbert were all tired, so they went back into the house to sit down to a proper supper.


"The end," Prussia concluded. "Awesome, right?"

There was not a sound in the entire room. Everybody was staring at Prussia, stunned to varying degrees and for various reasons.

"Thank you, Prussia, for your…interesting story," UN said, breaking the silence. "Okay, does anybody have anything to say? Any questions? Clarifications?"

"If they went inside to eat supper, does that mean they ate those sausages Gisela made?" China asked, poking his head through the window of his little house.

Prussia grinned. "Maybe…"

Several nations made sounds of disgust at Prussia's ambiguous answer.

"Okay," China said as if he didn't even find the idea of eating oneself off-putting or strange.

"That's just gross, man!" America yelled, obviously upset. "Why would you even put that in your story?"

"It was in the original fairy tale," Prussia answered simply. "I already warned you that fairy tales aren't all sunshine and rainbows. You'd think that you would have been able to prepare yourself."

America shook his head. "No! I will never be prepared for your twisted imagination!"

"Moving on," UN interrupted. "Does anybody have anything else to say that doesn't fixate on their possible supper?"

"I have a question regarding the characters," Ghana said. "I understand that Gilbert is Prussia, Adalbert is Germania and Monika is Germany as a little girl."

There were several snickers somewhere in the back and Germany didn't look too pleased.

"But who are Daina and Gisela?" she continued. "If I'm allowed to ask that."

UN nodded. "You can ask, but nobody is allowed to ask before the story is over."

"Daina is Old Prussia," Prussia answered.

"Which is probably why he made her so 'awesome'," somebody in the back whispered.

"And, Gisela is Frankish Empire."

"You made Frankish Empire the villain in your story?" Germany asked. "Why did you do that?"

"It was appropriate," Prussia answered. "If you listen to my stories every once in a while, you'd know I have my reasons."

"Wait. I get it now," Ghana said. "The first part was about the conquering and Christianisation of Old Prussia and Gilbert being killed and rising from the ashes is symbolic of your end and rebirth as East Germany. Right?"

Prussia nodded. "Exactly!"

"I must admit that it's actually quite clever, Prussia," Ghana said. "I didn't think you would be such a brilliant storyteller."

"So you accept that I'm better than you?" Prussia asked with a smirk.

"I'm still better," Ghana laughed. "But you're close."

Prussia snorted. "Yeah, right!"

"Okay, break it up before a fight breaks out again," UN told the two.

"Wait, wait, wait!" America said.

UN sighed. "Is this about the wurst again? If it is, could you please just keep it to yourself?"

"It's not. Promise!" America said, a little too defensively. "I just wanted to ask why there was no romance in his story. Because I'm going to be really weirded out if somebody says the love story was between Gilbert and Monika."

"America, not all fairy tales have love stories," UN explained, a little tired with having to deal with him. "Besides, there was a love story between Adalbert and Daina."

"That hardly counts because it didn't have a happy ending," America argued.

UN exhaled slowly. "It doesn't need a happy ending. It's Prussia's decision if he wanted to give it a happy ending or not."

"But wouldn't a story be so much better if the romance had a happy end?" Italy joined in.

"Okay," UN said, giving up on trying to explain. "Does anybody here have a fairy tale with a romance that has a happy ending?"

"I could tell the next tale," Spain spoke up.


More Author's Notes: The story for this chapter was "The Juniper Tree" which was recorded by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm.

Characters in the Fairy Tale: Gilbert - Prussia; Monika - Germany; Adalbert - Germania; Daina - Old Prussia; Gisela - Frankish Empire; Erzsébet - Hungary; Roderich - Austria; Toris - Lithuania; Felicja - Poland

German Words: meine Mutti - my mommy; mein Vati - my daddy

It was just so appropriate for Prussia, especially because of the mother's request for a "child as white as snow and as red as blood" without giving specifics, although it is usually interpreted as pale skin and red hair. There was also the little bird which reminded me of Gilbird. Also, the story was recorded in Low German, which was spoken in East Prussia, making it even more appropriate.

There is also a bit of history in the story that might need explaining. It was included there since it was part of UN's activity and I get to accomplish two things at once. First of all, Old Prussia was an area occupied by Baltic tribes before it was conquered and Christianised by Germanic crusaders and Prussia was created, hence the "love story" of Adalbert and Daina. The name of Adalbert is derived from the name of a Christian missionary that was tortured to death by the Old Prussians. Next, Frankish Empire, or Francia/Frankia/Frankish Realm/Frankish Kingdom, was a kingdom that occupied parts of what is now Germany and France. The first Holy Roman Emperor was a Frankish King, Charlemagne, making Frankish Empire the "mother" of Holy Roman Empire, tying together with the Germany is HRE theory that has been going around. Lastly, the end of Prussia is Germany's doing, but not entirely and what was once Prussian lands is now part of the eastern part of Germany.

Yes, Prussia made his mother awesome. It seems like a Prussia thing to do.