Chapter 6

Prussia scoffed as he towel-dried his hair. "Not that anyone cares, but I managed to get all the glitter out! And the shower hurt my fucking face!" he winced and nursed his purpling cheek. "Scheiße…"

"You'll be fine," Germany said, stretching his arms over his head. "Consider it payback for all the trouble you put me through."

"Payback?" Prussia snapped. "What did I do wrong, West?"

"You ditched him for his performance, when you two are the hosts," Hungary pointed out.

"I danced—"

"Sloppily, though. Everyone could tell you weren't in synch with the other dancers."

"Oh, why don't you just SHUT UP?" Prussia snapped finally.

Hungary hissed, and raised a frying pan. "What did you say to me?"

Prussia yelped, and shielded his head. "No more bruises! I still have to go on television later!"

Germany's head snapped up, and he gaped at his brother. "W-What? So you want to do the finale with me?"

"Of course I do! We practiced the song together!"

"But you missed the rehearsal!"

"Ja! 'Cause if I came to the rehearsal you'd hook me into doing that crappy song!"

Germany growled in rage and stood up. "The finale is bigger than our actual performance! You don't have a damned clue of what we're supposed to do, DO YOU?"

"I'll just watch the video of the rehearsal!" Prussia snapped, but then nursed his face again. "Ow, ow! Scheiße HӦLLE, West! How can you treat your older brother this way?"

"If you want to brush up on the finale," Austria said. "Then you'd better hunt down a video of it as soon as possible. Only seven countries are left to perform, and Azerbaijan goes on next."

"Ja, ja, whatever." Prussia waved a dismissive hand. "I'll look for it on YouTube." He abruptly glared at the other three countries. "But if anyone hits me again I'm bailing out on this! I don't care if we're the hosts; I'm too awesome to put up with this shit!"

Germany gritted his teeth as Prussia ran out of the room. "Scheißkerl…"

His pocket began to hum. He checked his cell phone and saw someone trying to call him. "Ja, Italy?"

Hungary giggled loudly. "It seems little Italy is quite glued to his side!"

"Ja," Austria said disinterestedly. He turned on the green room television. "Azerbaijan is next to perform. Her song is…okay, to say the least."

Hungary shrugged. "She came in second on both of our semi-final round. I guess we'll see how it goes."

Germany suddenly jerked the phone away from his ear. Loud, indistinctive screaming burst from his cell phone before the line loudly disconnected. "…Romano hung up on me again…"

"Ah…" Azerbaijan looked at herself in the mirror one last time. "I'm so nervous…"

"You'll make us proud," Turkey told her, coming up to stand behind her and smiling broadly at her reflection. "To take a duet and sing it solo is a challenge, Azer. But you pulled it off beautifully in our semi-final round, and you'll do just fine here."

"Yeah!" Northern Cyprus cheered from the couch. "You'll do better than Greece and Cyprus!"

"Sağ olun." Azerbaijan managed a small smile and brushed out her white dress. "I couldn't help but fall in love with the song when I first heard it. Although…" she laughed nervously as she turned around. "Maybe singing it by myself wasn't such a good idea. Why don't you join me onstage, Sadiq? I did say I would represent us both…"

Turkey laughed uneasily. "You are my precious kardeş, Azer, and it would be very weird for us to sing a love duet together." But he pulled her into a hug. "But you'll do great. I just know you will."

"I agree." Georgia stood up from the couch and approached the siblings. "Everyone's a sucker for a good love song. That and your song is really good. You're bound to rank high."

"Sağ olun." Azerbaijan smiled at him as she pulled away from Turkey. "Well then…I better go out there and make my people and Sadiq's proud, ne?"

"Absolutely!" Turkey cheered.

They departed from the green room and started down the hall. As he walked behind Azerbaijan though, Turkey looked over his shoulder very discreetly a few times. Azerbaijan also noticed that he was checking open green rooms they passed. "Is something wrong, Sadiq?"

"A-Ah, yok Azer," Turkey stammered. He looked embarrassed to have been caught like that.

"It looks like you're looking for someone," Northern Cyprus pointed out unhelpfully.

"If you're looking for him." her voice darkened very quickly. "I would hopefully think he would be smart enough to stay away from me."

"I don't think Armenia would deliberately—" Georgia began.

"Please stop defending him! And don't mention his name to me!"

"N-Now Azer," Turkey stammered, gently pushing her along. "Don't get so riled up before you go onstage…"

"Azerbaijan is next," America read from his program. He thought about it. "Where's he located?"

"Azerbaijan is a she as you'll recall," England corrected sharply. "And she is Turkey's neighbor."

"They're…siblings," Greece said darkly.

"She's really hot too," Romano added unnecessarily.

"I really like the outfits she picks out for herself each other," Poland said thoughtfully. "Her dress this year is fabulous as well…"

"Hmm…" America shrugged and reclined in his seat.

The arena darkened, and vocalizing rose from the stage. "Oh, oh! Ah-oh! Oh, oh! Ah-oh!"

After a moment of vocalizing, the backup dancers stepped away to reveal Azerbaijan standing alone. With the bright lights, her white dress against her bronze skin, and dark hair hanging long, she seemed to glow onstage. "Come to me…come to me tonight! Oh God, I need you! Anyway…Baby! I just wanna be…" she moved into the next part of the duet with a roll of her head. "Be around you all the time! Oh God, I need you! Ooh…

"I'm running—I'm scared tonight! I'm running—I'm scared of life! I'm running—I'm scared of breathing…" Azerbaijan gestured to the audience. "'Cause I adore you…"

"I'm running—I'm scared tonight!" Turkey sang loudly backstage, clutching his hands to his chest. "I'm running—I'm scared of life!"

Georgia rubbed at his ear slightly. "Maybe you should've joined her duet?"

"Come to me…Come to be a bit more!" Azerbaijan belted out. "Oh, God I need you! There's nothing left for me to say…"

"She seems really into it," Finland said. "I wonder if she's singing directly to someone."

"…Perhaps," Sweden said.

"Ahhhh…" Turkey was beside himself with glee. "Look at her! She's doing so well! And she says she represents me too! I'm so proud of her!"

"Knowing that will mean a lot to her," Georgia said, managing a small smile.

Azerbaijan kept the momentum going, and finished as strongly as she started. She curtsied to the audience as they cheered and hurried offstage.

"Eight points," Poland said.

"Two," Latvia said.

"I a-also gave her eight," Lithuania said.

"Me too," Estonia said.

"…Five," Greece muttered. After a moment he shrugged. "At least it's not Turkey…"

"Three," Ireland said.

"Six," France said.

"W-We didn't score her!" Italy said.

"Like I said," Romano said. "Frugal."

"Ten points!" San Marino cheered.

"…One," Switzerland said.

"Eight," Portugal said.

"Six," Netherlands said.

"Three," Belgium said.

"I…didn't score her," Denmark said.

"Five points," Finland said.

"Three," Sweden said.

"…Eight," Norway said.

"PERFECT SCORE!" Turkey cheered, sweeping Azerbaijan up into his arms.

"I knew I could count on you, Sadiq!" Azerbaijan cheered, kissing him on the cheek.

"I gave you eight points," Georgia said, showing his phone.

"And I'm grateful!" Azerbaijan gave him a hug and a kiss too. "I have a very good feeling about my performance! And just knowing I did better than HIM makes everything worth it!"

Turkey and Georgia exchanged a short look before Turkey laughed uncomfortably. "Azer…"

"Twelve points."

"I think it must be over now," Armenia said, switching on the green room television. "If I have to hear Azerbaijan sing, my ears will bleed."

Russia stared at his phone blankly, and at the score listed there. He slowly looked up at Armenia, whose back was to him. "Good, good. Her performance is over. I gave her zero points, thankfully. Now I just have to wa…"

Armenia trailed off suddenly, and looked over his shoulder, as if noticing Russia was watching him. "Is something wrong?"

"…Net," Russia said, closing his phone and putting it in his pocket. "Nothing is wrong."

"So…I'm next," Slovenia said, slowly brushing out his dark shirt.

"Azerbaijan got a nice response from the audience," Croatia said, looking over her shoulder. "But your song is pretty popular as well."

"Most of us already gave our perfect scores to Bosnia and Herzegovina," Serbia said. The aforementioned couple were sitting together and talking quietly. "But we can still give you high marks regardless."

Macedonia was looking off to the side. "I'll…be right back." Before anyone could respond, the young man ran off.

"But I'm about to go onstage!" Slovenia protested. He scoffed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Never mind…"

Several feet away, Bulgaria was kneeling next to a tiny but strange-colored puddle on the floor. "Is this…blood? But it's silver."

"Do you want me to check?" Wallachia asked over his shoulder.

Bulgaria quickly shook his head. "Ne, blagodarya."

"Zdravo!"

Bulgaria started only slightly as he felt a body slide down beside him. "Zdraveĭte, Macedonia."

Macedonia smiled at Bulgaria briefly before he looked down at the puddle. "What is that?"

"It's blood…I think." Bulgaria rubbed at his forehead uncomfortably. "It's silver, though. But I think unicorn's bleed silver blood."

"But why would a unicorn be bleeding here?"

Bulgaria shrugged. "Why is a unicorn here to begin with?"

"Da, that's a good point."

"Was there something you needed from me?" Bulgaria asked.

"Am I bothering you?" Macedonia countered playfully.

"…Ne. But since Slovenia is about to go onstage, I thought that you might want to cheer for him."

"Oh, I do. I just wanted to see you first."

"Hmm…" Bulgaria rubbed a hand through his own hair awkwardly. "Is this about the lang—"

"It's not like that. Can't I speak with an old friend without ulterior motives?"

"Macedonia is a nation that has always strived to prove its own individuality, because the world has hardly viewed him as his own state. In 836 A.D. he was united with Bulgaria in the First Bulgarian Empire, although he was officially classified as 'of Bulgaria'. Macedonia mostly considered himself Slavic. Until the 15th century he was constantly caught in a tug-of-war between Bulgaria and Serbia over who would have him, with Bulgaria ultimately the victor. Then the Ottoman Empire annexed them both, where they would remain for the next 500 years.

With the end of the Russo-Turkish War of 1878, Bulgaria was able to declare himself an independent country and took Macedonia with him. However, with the First Balkan War of 1912 and then World War I, Macedonia was "reclassified" to being 'of Serbia', and Serbia took him away to be united in the Yugoslavia. Macedonia was able to declare independence from Yugoslavia on September 25, 1991, with Bulgaria being the very first country to recognize his independence. Thus, Macedonia was finally able to be his own individual state.

Although currently locked in heated dispute with Bulgaria over his identity (as Bulgaria still considers Macedonia to be 'of him') they are able to maintain cordial and very close relations."

"I should probably get going though," Macedonia said, brushing out his pants. "Can we talk later, though?"

"Sure," Bulgaria said at length. He paused before he continued. "It was nice talking to you."

"Da, you too."

"Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice message—"

Norway snapped his phone shut. "Nothing."

"Iceland isn't picking up the phone?" Faroe asked.

"He might be busy," Sealand said. He looked down the front of his chair. "I think I just saw gnomes…"

"Let me know if you see a boggart," Greenland said, absently cracking his knuckles.

"Y-You crushed your phone pretty hard earlier," Finland stammered. "Maybe something broke?"

Greenland snorted. "He's probably with Oji-san."

Norway stiffened, and Finland laughed loudly and nervously. "N-Now, now! Iceland goes onstage next after Slovenia! He wouldn't have time to do…uh…" he looked at Norway and blushed. "Anteeksi, please forget I said anything."

"Vad är fel?" Åland asked.

"Ingenting," Finland reassured her.

"…Né," Greenland conceded.

Denmark waved a hand. "Our Ice is too innocent to do stuff like that anyways! We taught him better than that!"

"…How?" Sweden asked slowly. "Look at your wa—"

Norway quickly waved a hand. Sweden's mouth snapped shut and his lips pressed together. He struggled briefly to open his open, but couldn't. Shrugging it off, he leaned back in his seat and glared at Norway as he pulled out his cell phone.

Piano keys sounded throughout the arena. Purple lights engulfed the stage as Slovenia raised his microphone. "And you came to me one night! Like a morning light…"

"Nii-san, stop making me hang up on Germany!" Italy whined.

"Shut up and watch the show!" Romano snapped.

"I'll just call him again!"

"Be quiet!" most everyone around him shouted.

Italy began to cry. "You're all so mean…"

"No one will ever hold you tight! No one will ever love you like! Just no-one like I do!"

"You're very lucky," Iceland said, calmly cleaning the leg-wound. "You say you were shot, but it looks like the bullet grazed you. I heard a gun go off when Switzerland was onstage, and I know he carries around a rifle…" he shuddered slightly. "If the bullet hit you directly, you wouldn't be able to walk."

The unicorn remained silent, though he was watching Iceland very intensely.

Iceland whistled, and a fairy flew over to him. On his direction the fairy gently kissed the wound, and after a moment the graze sealed up. "There, you should be fine now. But I would be careful walking until you go back to where you belong."

"Try standing up!" Mr. Puffin encouraged.

The unicorn moved his once injured leg very slightly. Then he tentatively climbed to his feet. He neighed in surprised as he remained steady on his feet, and not in pain.

"Good," Iceland praised, standing up.

The unicorn suddenly turned to him and pierced Iceland with intense violet eyes. "I am in your debt."

"I-It's really no problem—"

"It is the weapon of a human that hurt me. But, it was the care of a human that saved me. I thank you, Fair Maiden."

"You're wel…" Iceland trailed off slowly. "I-I'm sorry, excuse me?"

The unicorn stepped closer. "Fair Maiden, might I have your name?"

Mr. Puffin squawked with laughter. Iceland glared at him before facing the unicorn. "I-I'm sorry, but you've got it all wrong. I'm the country of Iceland, not a Fair Maiden."

"Hmm…" the unicorn thought about it for a moment before he bowed his head low. "Then I thank you, Fair Maiden Iceland."

Iceland's jaw dropped, and Mr. Puffin laughed harder. "N-Nei, you've got it all wrong! I'm NOT a Fair Maiden!"

The unicorn raised his head and looked at Iceland very closely. "Then…you are not a virgin? But you are so young, milady."

Iceland sputtered, and Mr. Puffin had to take flight because he couldn't stop laughing. "It's not that I'm not a virgin, nothing like that!"

It appeared the poor unicorn thought Iceland was a girl. Why does he think this way? I have a very deep, MALE VOICE!

"…I have shamed you, to think the worst of you," the unicorn said, bowing his head again. "Especially when you have saved me. Please forgive my impudence."

Iceland sighed. "That's no prob—"

The unicorn abruptly straightened. "I will marry you."

"H-Hvað?" Iceland cried out. Above them, Slovenia's song still blasted from the intercoms. "Life goes—all around! Spin-ning all around! Now you want me, don't you?"

"I will take you as my Eternal Bride and bestow upon you my powers," the unicorn said, stepping closer to Iceland.

"Uhhhhhh…" Iceland raised his hands and took a couple of steps back. "Takk, for the offer, but I already have—"

"If you are betrothed," the unicorn interrupted. "I will fight the suitor for your hand."

"Um, uh…" Iceland looked around himself helplessly, but saw no one. "I'm truly sorry, but—WAGH!" he suddenly looked at his own watch. "Guð minn, I'm next to perform! I'm going to miss my own performance!" without another word to the unicorn, he took off running back down the hall, Mr. Puffin quickly flying after him.

The unicorn stared after Iceland for a long moment before he shook his head. "What a strange girl."

"Twelve points!" Bosnia showed Slovenia as the other country ran backstage. "Herzegovina and I gave you a perfect score!"

"Hvala!" Slovenia laughed, wiping at his brow. "I had more fun than I thought I would!"

"Perfect score," Croatia praised, showing her phone.

"Ten points," Serbia said. He paused before he continued. "…That means none of you can give me a perfect score now."

An uncomfortable silence engulfed the other countries for a moment before Macedonia interjected. "Ten points!"

Behind them, Iceland was scrambling to get ready. He looked incredibly flustered, and several women were fixing his hair and brushing out his clothes. Someone—maybe his boss—was hissing something in his ear and he just kept nodding apologetically. "Is…he going to be okay?" Croatia said slowly.

"Rumors are running rampant about him," Bosnia said. "And it doesn't help that Norway is summoning all these magical creatures. I feel sorry for him…"

"He's got a catchy song," Slovenia said, smiling slightly. "But the worse he does mean better for those of us in the final, right?"

"Ah, Iceland is next!" America said.

Japan flinched, remembering his near-confrontation with Norway.

"I'll cheer for him so long as he can control that bloody volcano!" England fumed.

Poland glared at him. "Why are you complaining? It's not like that ash, like, totally obstructed anything totally important for you, right?"

"Feliks—" Lithuania began.

"I know, I know." Poland waved a hand and sunk into his seat. "I'm just venting. If Russia were nearby I'd, like, totally throw something at him."

Lithuania slowly blinked. "What does Russia have to do with your not getting in the final?"

"Because he's always here!" Poland snapped. "And doesn't anyone find it suspicious that everyone messed up for the first five songs, but then magically fixed themselves when it was time for Serbia and Russia to take the stage?"

"Hey!" Albania said, snapping to attention. "Hey, you're absolutely right! Everything did start working again for the most part when Serbia took the stage!" he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. "That bastard! I'll make him pay, I swear I will!"

Greece groaned and rubbed at his forehead.

Sweden (mobile)

"Remove this spell, please."

Norway glared at his cell phone, and then glared at Sweden. "You don't talk much anyways. Why does this bother you?"

Sweden glared back and texted back. "I will be quiet about this idiotic wager you made with Denmark, but I want my voice back."

"Norway," Finland said. "I don't know what Su-san was saying that offended you, but please remove that spell on him."

"Oh, what's the use?" Denmark laughed, pinching Sweden's stiff cheek. "It's nice to see old Sweden forced into his usual silence and pleading for mercy!"

Norway waved his hand abruptly, canceling the spell. Sweden took the opportunity to grab Denmark's hand in his fist. "Don't touch me."

Denmark pouted at his fun being ruined, but the arena darkened once more, signaling the start of Iceland's performance. The Nordics snapped to attention as Iceland took his place with the other performers. Iceland took a deep breath, but quickly glanced over his shoulder to make sure that unicorn wasn't anywhere near him. I'm not a "Fair Maiden" and I'm certainly NOT getting married to a unicorn! He shuddered slightly. Norway would see Hell freeze over anyways before that happened, anyway…

He signaled to the band that he was ready. The guitar started up an upbeat but melancholy melody. The audience quickly began clapping in time with the music. Iceland forced his focus on the song, and the person these lyrics were meant. "Some say I'm a bit of a fool…" he certainly felt foolish in that moment. "Sitting on a hill and counting raindrops. Keep thinking I just wanna go…to the peaceful place I know! That I call home…"

"He doesn't look well," Finland said worriedly. "Is he okay?"

Norway said nothing, but his brow knitted in worry.

"'Cause I can't wait! For tomorrow! To say the things I wanna say! Your smile will always lead my way—I can't wait! I'm comin' soon! I just wanna see your face again!"

Denmark's face paled. "T-These lyrics…he's not singing to Oji-san, is he?"

"This song is a tribute to a dead friend," Sweden pointed out coldly.

"…Oh." Denmark sighed in relief.

"Driving down the road I stop to listen…" Iceland continued, mustering as much enthusiasm as he could. "I hear your laughter in the trees! Your whisper in the breeze—my love is you!"

Denmark quickly looked at Sweden. "Are you sure this isn't about Oji-san?"

"…Your question is offensive," Sweden said.

"L-Let's just enjoy the song," Finland pleaded.

"'Cause no one! Knows his where or when! When my time on earth…comes to an end! Then I'll find you…and I know that you will be my love again!"

"Hey, this ain't too bad!" America said, joining the rhythmic clapping. "At least he's not singing about eating dolphins!" he glared pointedly at Japan.

Japan rubbed at his head. "When have I ever sung about that?"

"He's got a point—" Pakistan said.

"DON'T TALK TO ME!" America snapped over his shoulder.

"You're being annoying, aru!" China snapped back.

"I'm coming home."

The audience cheered with the end of the song as Iceland politely bowed before hurrying offstage. Everyone quickly checked their scores.

"Oh, my goodness!" Hungary cried out as she checked her phone. "I gave Iceland a perfect score!"

"I didn't score him," Austria checked.

"Me, either," Germany said. Before he put his phone away, it buzzed again. "Ah, Italy sent me another text message."

"Why not go out there and sit with him if you're going to correspond?" Austria asked.

Germany blushed and ducked his head. "Uh…I…"

"Four points," Portugal said.

"Five," Romano read.

"Yay, we scored again!" Italy cheered. "Ah, and Germany sent me a text message!"

Romano pretended to throw up.

"Ten," Switzerland read.

"Four," England said.

"No one else scored him?" France observed, tucking away his phone. "Poor boy…perhaps I ought to comfort him?" he cackled to himself.

"T-The Nordics undoubtedly gave him high marks," Canada said. "So I-I don't think he needs much comfort…" he trailed off as he felt his pocket buzz. He pulled out his cell phone to check his messages. When he saw the message there he quickly stood up. "I-I'm sorry, but I must go."

"Go? Where?" Poland asked.

"Just—I'll be right back." Canada turned to leave, but then turned back to France. "Can you please save my seat, France?"

France grinned at him. "Anything for you, Mattie."

"T-Thanks." Canada quickly hurried up the aisle. "What could he want now, Mr. Kumasami?"

"Who are you?" Mr. Kumajirou asked.

"I'm Canada!"

France laughed loudly as he spread himself into Canada's seat. "I shall…gladly guard it." He cooed to himself and rubbed his upper body all over the seat.

"I…don't think that's what he had in mind," Lithuania said painfully.

Iceland gasped as he ran backstage. It's over. It's over with…

He rounded a corner, and almost walked straight into Mr. Puffin. His bird had a water bottle in his beak, and a hand towel in his claws. He dropped both into Iceland's hands. "Takk." He gulped the water and draped the towel around his neck. "I'm tired…" he began to nurse his sweaty cheek with the towel's edge. "At least my boss is leaving me alone now…"

An arm slid around his waist. Iceland stiffened as he was pulled to the side and crushed up against a large body. His head was fitted into a throat, under a chin. But, he could smell spice…and tobacco. And his body relaxed. He could hear a squawk from Mr. Puffin before the bird discreetly flew away.

A free hand reached up to cup his cheek. "My judge didn't score you. I'm sorry."

Iceland sighed. "It's really no problem. We don't really have many foreign relations with each other, do we Oji-san?"

"…True." A long finger trailed alongside his cheek, and to his chin. Iceland shivered involuntarily. "But, you still gave a good performance, Bocchan."

"Y-You were watching?" Iceland leaned back slightly to look up at his face.

"Hmm." Turkey withdrew his hand from Iceland's cheek and slowly took his mask off, revealing his dark, intense eyes. "I came back here to give Azer encouragement, but I was looking for you too. It's a shame I couldn't see you before you went onstage."

"J-Já. I was a little…preoccupied." Iceland remembered the injured unicorn then, and shuddered slightly.

"But I wasn't going to miss your performance," Turkey continued. "Not by a long shot, Bocchan."

"T-Takk," Iceland stammered. He could feel his heart-rate accelerating. "And Azerbaijan did a good job, too."

"I know." Turkey suddenly pulled him into a tighter embrace. "Ama, let's stop talking about my sister, hmm?"

"A-Are you sure you want to hug me?" Iceland asked, his face muffled against Turkey's shoulder. "I'm really sweaty right now…"

Turkey chuckled softly. "When you get to be my age, Bo-chan." He breathed the word across Iceland's scalp. "You do not become bothered by such…minor things."

"I-I see." Iceland could feel his face turning red and he burrowed it into Turkey's shoulder in embarrassment. "Well…thank you for cheering for me, Oji-san. A-And I'm not bothered you didn't score me…"

"Ah, but I am." Turkey released Iceland, but only a little bit. He cupped his face once more and forced the younger country to look at him. "How might I make this up to you?"

Iceland flushed even darker, and tried to advert his gaze. But Turkey wouldn't let him turn his head. "Ah…I…"

"What's going on?"

"AH!" Iceland screamed, spinning around. Turkey was startled too, and released Iceland and quickly put his mask back on.

The Nordics. ALL of them were standing there, with the exceptions of Sealand and Åland. And most of them looked extremely confused. Denmark's face was an array of emotions. Norway looked stone-faced. And Sweden looked neutral.

"G-G-Guys!" Iceland cried out, raising his hands. "What are you doing back here?"

"We came to l-look for you," Faroe stammered. "You looked upset onstage, so we…"

"W-What is this?" Finland asked, motioning to them. "Why were you hugging Turkey, Iceland? And why was he about to kiss you?"

"H-He wasn't about to kiss me!" Iceland insisted. "We were just innocently talking!"

"Then how come you were hanging all over each other and your face is so red it looks sun-burned?" Greenland asked blandly.

Iceland slapped his hands over his cheeks and his body shook. "I…uh…"

"L-Look," Turkey said, laughing awkwardly. "This isn't what it—"

"MIN GUD!" Denmark shrieked suddenly, startling everyone. His face was ashen, and his hand trembled violently as he pointed at Turkey. "It's you! YOU! You're Oji-san!"

Finland cried out, and covered his mouth. Sweden didn't react whatsoever. Iceland looked at Norway, but his brother still looked expressionless. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

"Suddenly, it makes sense," Greenland said, folding his arms over his chest.

"Oji-san is what Iceland calls me," Turkey said, sensing danger in this situation. "And I call him Bocchan—"

Denmark burst out with the most hysterical wailing in the world. He cupped his hands to his face and fell to his knees, screaming out profound grief. "Nej! Nej, nej, nej, NEJ! Ice is so innocent…why must this happen?"

"You guys are overreacting!" Iceland cried out. "W-We—"

"He's so much OLDER than you are, Ice!" Denmark continued to scream. "And for you…for you to turn into such a pervert!" he choked on a sob. "I never knew you to be so LECHEROUS!"

"…Haaa?" Iceland wheezed out, his embarrassment mounting.

"Pervert?" Finland demanded sharply. "Why is Iceland the pervert? If anything, this is clearly Turkey's fault!"

"Now wait a minute!" Turkey snapped. He was starting to quickly see Iceland's reluctance in telling his family anything. "I'm NOT a pervert!"

"W-Why would Iceland want to date Turkey?" Faroe asked meekly, fiddling with her hands. "T-Turkey is much older than him…and they don't even have close foreign relations. I-It doesn't make sense."

Greenland shrugged. "Turkey must be good in bed."

"Greenland!" Faroe cried out, mindful of the whispers breaking out between onlookers behind them.

"GREENLAND!" Iceland screamed, almost ready to advance upon the other country.

"W-W-W-We…" Denmark sputtered and hiccupped on his sobs, scrubbing at his messy face with both hands. "We must call a family meeting! Ja! For our sweet and innocent Ice to turn into such a sex fiend, it must be SOMEBODY'S FAULT!"

"I'm not a sex fiend!" Iceland hollered. "God, I hate you so much Denmark!"

It was then that Norway reacted. The stoic Nordic country rushed forward, taking everyone off-guard. His movements even stopped Denmark's sobbing as he reached his hands out and closed them around a throat.

Iceland's throat.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?" Norway shrieked uncharacteristically, wringing Iceland's neck. "ER DU GAL? ER DU DUM?"

"NORWAY!" Finland cried out. He rushed to Norway's side. "Let him go, please! This isn't the way to handle this!"

"Guh—hukk—" Iceland garbled.

"…Whoa," Greenland said slowly. "So here's the rage Norway's been keeping in!"

"Stop it, Norway!" Faroe wailed.

"He kidnapped you!" Norway continued to scream, ignoring Finland and Faroe and strangling his younger brother mercilessly. "He took you far away from us when you were a child! He held you for ten years! TI ÅR!" he screamed the words, not caring that a large crowd of people was watching all of this. "We thought we would never see you again! And then you do this? Have you no sense?"

"During a two week period of July 4th to July 19th, 1627, Turkish pirates landed on the shores of Iceland looking for rare, exotic items to trade with the far East. When they found nothing materially of value outside of some hides and fish, they kidnapped 400 Icelanders over a period of time and took them home with them to sell them as slaves. These incidents became known as the 'Turkish Abductions'. It took 10 years for Denmark, part of the Denmark-Norway alliance, to reach a compromise with the Ottoman Empire about the return of the civilians. In the end, the Ottoman Empire gave back roughly only a dozen of the captured Icelanders."

"Norway, PLEASE calm down!" Finland pleaded with him. "You're going to kill him!"

"Ice…oh, Ice…" Denmark whimpered, seemingly oblivious to Norway strangling Iceland.

Turkey didn't quite know what to make of this situation. He self-consciously took a step back, but then he felt something brush against his back. "Hvor tror du du kommer?"

"WAGH!" Turkey screamed, spinning around to see Norway's green troll grinning wickedly at him. "NE SIKTIR?"

In the midst of the chaos, Sweden watched in silence. Then, he slowly turned around and walked away.

"…Keeps ganging up on me," Prussia muttered mournfully. He hugged Mr. Kumajirou to his chest, while the bear hugged him back neutrally. He was fiddling with his laptop, trying to find the finale footage. "It's not fair…"

"Germany must be stressed," Canada said, trying to place a bandage on Prussia's bruised cheek. But Prussia kept moving about angrily, which made this difficult. "When people are stressed, they take it out on the people closest to them." He sighed quietly. "You should see America when he's stressed…"

"It's his own fault," Prussia insisted. "He could've fought that stupid song, but he didn't! Who would blame me for not wanting to sing it?"

"But you did promise him," Canada reminded him quietly. "That's what must upset him the most."

Prussia shrugged it off. "Well, I'm keeping my promise for the finale, anyways. Ah, here it is!" he clicked on the video on YouTube.

"…Finale?" Canada asked slowly.

"Ja, it's totally awesome! We're going to knock the socks off all Europe!" Prussia watched as the video loaded. "I just need to memorize the lyrics…"

"So…you don't know those either?" Canada asked.

"Hola, Gilbert!" Spain called out as he walked passed them. He was dressed very fashionably in a silk white shirt and white pants. "Wish me luck!"

"Wait, you're next?" Prussia sputtered. He jumped to his feet and shoved Mr. Kumajirou back into Canada's arms. "Hang on, I'm coming! See you later, Canada!"

"W-What about memorizing the finale?" Canada cried out after him. But Prussia didn't look back.

Canada sighed, and started the video himself. "He'll never change, will he Mr. Kumajuno?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Canada!"

"Spain-nii-san is next!" Italy cheered, clapping his hands.

Romano scoffed. "Who cares?"

"He gave you a perfect score," Portugal pointed out snidely. "At least show some enthusiasm for your lov—"

"SHUT UP!"

"I wonder if he'll have another stage-crasher this year," America asked.

"…Why do you sound hopeful?" England asked.

"Good luck!" Prussia cheered.

"Gracias mi amigo," Spain said cheerfully. "I just love singing this song, so I'm really going to enjoy this performance!" his smile broadened even more. "And I hope Romano likes it too…"

"Just hop off the stage and serenade him again if you want to be sure!" Prussia laughed.

"He's sitting inside the row and not on the aisle though." Spain shrugged and turned. "Well, here I go!"

Spain hurried onto the stage. After a moment, Prussia scratched at his head. "Was I supposed to be doing something?"

The arena darkened once more, and Italy hopped up and down in his seat. "Spain-nii-san!"

"Ugh, you're annoying me!" Romano snapped, rubbing at his face.

"But aren't you existed, Nii-san? Spain-nii-san and you after all are—"

"Enough, just shut up!"

"—closer," Italy finished innocently.

"Sim, closer," Portugal punctuated, and France laughed.

Before Romano could respond, music rose from the stage once more. Dancers dressed in white danced cheerfully around Spain, who looked quite happy as usual. "Whoa-oh oh, whoa-oh! Whoa-oh oh, whoa-oh! Ahora que me quiten, que me quiten lo bailao!"

Spain happily danced around the stage with his backup dancers. He was always quite the dancer, after all. "Me pellizco! Cada día! Pienso que suerte la mía! No estoy soñando! Es realidad!"

Spain suddenly pointed at a very specific section of the audience. "Vivo como! En una nube! Tengo lo que nunca tuve! Te tengo a ti! Y todo lo que ma das!"

Romano stiffened, feeling that that finger was directed right at him! Italy obliviously glanced at him. "Why did Spain-nii-san point at us?"

"Whoa-oh oh, whoa-oh! Whoa-oh oh, whoa-oh! Ahora que me quiten, que me quiten lo bailao!" Spain sang out with energy and cheer, dancing merrily around. "Whoa-oh oh, whoa-oh! Whoa-oh oh, whoa-oh! Ahora que me quiten, que me quiten lo bailao!"

"Aww, he's not going to jump off the stage?" America asked. Romano flinched.

"Germany-san already did that anyways," Japan said.

Spain suddenly knelt at the edge of the stage, facing the section where the countries sat. "Junto a ti cada momento! Es sublime el sentimiento!" he gestured very specifically and winked. "Sin miedo! A lo que ha de venir! No me curare en salud! Ni me cargaré una cruz! Disfruto todo ta y como eres tu!"

"Hmm…" Portugal leaned forward in his seat to address Romano. "Sounds like he's sending a message."

"I don't speak Spanish," Romano said flatly, adverting his gaze. It was very obvious now. Spain was attempting—and terribly—to sing his stupid song to him! It was so embarrassing!

"Maybe Spain-nii-san should come down into the audience again!" Italy said, clapping his hands to the music.

…Okay. This wasn't as embarrassing as that.

"Me siento tan bien! Me siento tan bien!" Spain sang out, joining his dancers once more. "Que no no no no lo voy estropear!" he spun one of the women around. "Pensando en negative más!"

Romano sputtered indignantly. "He makes a show out of singing to me and then he prances around with a fucking girl?"

"Oh?" Poland asked playfully. "He was singing to you?"

"Romano est jaloux!" France howled with laughter.

"Sim, sim!" Portugal joined in.

"CHIUDI QUELLA CAZZO DI BOCCA!" Romano hollered at the top of his lungs. "Who would get jealous over a shitty song like this?"

"Whoa-oh oh, whoa-oh! Whoa-oh oh, whoa-oh!" Spain sang on obliviously. "Ahora que me quiten, que me quiten lo bailao! Whoa-oh oh!"

"At least nobody interfered this year," France said, his tone a little more serious now.

Spain's song finished smoothly and without a hitch. He bowed and shouted love and praises to the audience. As he left the stage though, he blew a kiss towards the audience…and at Romano! Romano simply muttered a few curse words and hid his face.

"My judge didn't score you," Prussia said reluctantly.

Spain shrugged. "That's okay. I had a lot of fun out there and I hope everyone else enjoyed it!"

"Ja, all that energy and the audience was—SCHEIßE!" Prussia hollered suddenly.

"W-What is it?" Spain sputtered.

"The finale! I'm supposed to be watching the video, and—CANADA!" Prussia took off running. "Canada, where are you?"

Spain stared after him before he shook his head. "Gilbert sure is acting weirdly. Ah, well…"

"Perfect score," Portugal said smugly.

"ME TOO!" France cheered, leaping over the row to hug his longtime friend. "D'amour pour Antonio!"

"Four points," Estonia said.

"Three," Switzerland said blandly.

"Five!" Albania cheered.

"I didn't score him," England said. Many other countries seated with him echoed the sentiment.

Romano sighed heavily, and yanked out his cell phone. "Let's see the score we gave to this crappy…" he opened the text, and his whole body tensed.

"What score did you give him?" Portugal prodded. "We know you already gave Romania your perfect score?"

Romano was silent for a long time. Slowly, he swallowed thickly.

Italy flipped open his own phone. He saw his own text and screamed. "NO! ZERO POINTS? We didn't score Spain-nii-san!"

"Eh?" Latvia cried out. "And after he gave you both a perfect score?"

"It's not them, though," Poland pointed out. "It's, like, totally their judge who did it."

"Ah, who cares?" Romano snapped, recovering from his perceived shock and stuffing his phone back into his pocket. "His song sucks, so he deserves zero points!"

"…He's going to be soooooo mad…" Italy whimpered.

"Uh…Sadiq?" Azerbaijan said slowly, approaching the couch Turkey sat on cautiously. "What is that?"

Turkey sat on the couch with his head in his hands. Beside him, Norway's green troll was grinning toothily and poking him incessantly in the shoulder. "Kom nå, gi meg alle detaljene. Er den lille broren lidenskapelige i senga? Beskriv for meg lydene han gjorde når dere to elsket."

"My living hell," Turkey said savagely. "That's what it is!"

I'm so sorry, Iceland! I think I have way too much fun torturing him, lol!

I'm sorry if Azerbaijan sounded a little too Gary Stu in this chapter. But if you know the results of Eurovision already, you can probably see why I wanted to embellish on her a little bit. –wink–

- I decided to do a lot more with Bulgaria in this story because I completely ignored his existence in Sing to Me, though he's a canon character. I hope you guys don't mind.

- The unicorn thing was blatantly ripped from the video game Suikoden 2. You can recruit a unicorn named Sigfried, but he will only join you so long as you have a 'Fair Maiden' in your party he can marry.

- Poland's Prime Minister, Lech Kaczyński, died in a plane crash in Russia on April 10, 2010. Four days later Iceland's volcano, Eyjafjallajökull (try saying that five times fast), erupted and spewed volcanic ash that covered most of Northern Europe. So not only was the news coverage of Kaczyński's death eclipsed by this natural disaster, but hardly any foreign dignitaries could attend his funeral because air travel was suspended. I brought up the Eyjafjallajökull eruption because nine days after the end of Eurovision another Icelandic volcano, Grímsvötn, erupted, though that ash spread to Greenland, lol.

Here's the English translation for Spain's song, as can be found at Eurovision's website:

"Now nobody can take away, take away the good times I've had

"I pinch myself every day, thinking how lucky I am
I'm not dreaming, it's reality
I live like on a cloud, I have what I never had
I've got you, you, and everything you give me

"Even though I know that storms are to come and I will fall
But in the end, I've already enjoyed the good times I've had

"Now nobody can take away, take away the good times I've had
Now nobody can take away, take away the good times I've had

"Each moment with you, that feeling is sublime
With no fear of what is to come
I won't take precautions, nor will I carry any crosses
I enjoy everything, just as you are

"Even though I know that storms are to come and I will fall
But in the end, I've already enjoyed the good times I've had

"Now nobody can take away, take away the good times I've had
Now nobody can take away, take away the good times I've had

"I feel so good, I feel so good
No no no no I am not going to spoil it
By negative thinking

"I know that storms are to come and I will fall
But in the end, I've already enjoyed the good times I've had

"Now nobody can take away, take away the good times I've had
Now nobody can take away, take away the good times I've had"