The Balkan peninsula... If you want to start a war in Europe, look no further. This chapter is a little less realistic and more Hetalia-esque than my other chapters, but I'm sure it'll still work - this is Hetalia, after all. I'd also like to apologise for the late update - I've been rather busy this last week or two, you see. Anyway, new chapter. Read and review!... or not.

Also, the American Civil War's coming up, either next chapter or the one after that. I can tell you now, though, it's going to look quite a bit different to the real war, though. The Alaska purchase'll probably be in the same chapter. (And yes, Alaska has a nation-tan in this story.)

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CHAPTER 12

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It was now early in 1857. The snow was beginning to melt around Europe as Spring approaches. However, here in the Balkans, the trees and flowers weren't the only things springing to life today.

"Alright, Sadiq. I've had enough of your empire and your damn garrisons on my soil!" A young man with dark, slicked-back hair stood on the moist spring soil, facing down a masked figure standing amongst a number of soldiers.

Turkey let out a snide laugh as he reached for his scimitar. "You think you can just walk out of my empire? Just like that?" He paused for a moment, waiting for a reply.

The young man's voice took on a bitter tone. "Da-te-n pula mea, Sadiq."

This struck a nerve with the Ottoman, it seemed, as he rapidly drew his weapon, charging the man the moment he finished the sentence.

Wallachia winced, bracing himself for the blow. However, instead of the expected dull thud of steel on bone, the sharp clang of steel on steel rang out instead. "Looks like you could help there, Mihai." There, blocking the Ottoman Empire's sword, was Serbia.

"Boris? What the hell are you doing here?" Before Wallachia could get a reply, though, a bullet came seemingly out of nowhere, striking Turkey's sword and knocking it out of his hand.

Montenegro had just entered the fray. "Long time no see, Sadiq!" She drew back the bolt on the rifle as she spoke, slipping in a second round. "I've been talking with my boss, Prince Danilo... He says I'm independent now. So..." Montenegro continued, taking aim, "Get your soldiers the hell off my land too, you good-for-nothing tyrant!" The young woman moved forward, taking her place alongside Serbia, her rifle trained on the Ottoman Empire all the while.

The Ottoman Empire hung his head, and a sound not unlike faint sobbing began to sound out. As it grew louder, though, it was clear this was not crying – rather, it was the beginning of a maniacal cackle. "Do you three honestly think you can take me? Me? The empire of the Ottoman Turks?" He turned his attention to his soldiers, behind him. "Men!" They stood at attention, muskets in hand, ready to follow any order. "Ready! Aim! An-"

"Why are you in such a hurry, Sadiq?" Out of nowhere, Russia had appeared on the battlefield. He approached the three rebellious nations, wrapping his arms protectively around them as he continued to talk. "Why don't you just give my friends what they want? They aren't asking for much..." A soft, yet utterly chilling smile graced Russia's face as he spoke. "Or would you like to become one with Russia instead?"

...

"Ludwig!!" A teary, distressed Italy ran full-speed into Germany's office. "I-I-I was g-g..."

The blond looked up from his paperwork strewn across the desk, looking up at the nation before him through a pair of reading glasses. "Feliciano." Germany's voice was stern, yet reassuring. "Calm yourself down, think about what you're going to say, then tell me what's wrong." As Germany said this, his face held a sympathetic, concerned look rather than the usual stoic facade chiseled into his cheeks.

The auburn-haired nation wiped his eyes and took a few deep breaths. "Francis said he'd invade my vital regions!"

"...What?" Germany removed his reading glasses, putting them down on the desk, somewhat shocked at the revelation. "Why?"

"W-Well, I was helping Ivan out in the Balkans... And when I was fighting with Montenegro, Francis told me to stop... And he said... he said if I didn't..." Italy couldn't continue, breaking down into tears at the memory.

"Feliciano. Calm down." Reaching over his desk, Germany put his hand on Italy's shoulder to reassure him. "Francis won't be getting anywhere near your vital regions."

Calming down slightly, Italy managed to mutter something in-between sobs. "Why's that?"

"Because," he replied, "We promised each-other we'd always stand up for one another, right? In fact," he continued, moving a few papers on his desk, "I'll send a telegram to Francis right now. I'll let him know that if he tries to do anything to you, I'm not going to back down..."

...

"So, the Germans stand ready to defend us?" A balding man with an impressive beard sat across from Italy, an officer's saber at his side.

"Veeee~... Yes, signor Garibaldi! Germany says we don't have anything to fear - he even told France to stay away from me!"

Giuseppe Garibaldi stroked his chin, deep in thought. "Good. Hopefully the French will back down, now... In that case, we should press on with our efforts in Montenegro. Perhaps we could assist the Montenegrins in striking at the Turks in Albania..."

Italy was starting to lose focus, his eyes drifting around the room as Garibaldi continued to outline his military plans. After a while, he interrupted. "Signor Garibaldi... Can we have pasta?"

"Hmm... That's a good idea, actually." Italy's eyes lit up at this. "We could invite the Montenegrin, Russian and German representatives over, perhaps hold a banquet, and use this to announce our recognition of Montenegro as its own kingdom!" The general had missed Italy's point, it seemed, but the young nation didn't mind. "And with Germany backing us up, this will surely be a mighty diplomatic blow against the Ottomans..."

...

A young woman in the garb of a peasant or farmer stood at the coast of the Black Sea. On the horizon, a few dots began to emerge. These dots slowly grew larger, both in size and number, revealing themselves as a massive naval floatilla. On the masts of the fleet's two flagships, she spotted the colours of the French and British Empires. "This... I have to tell dear Ivan about this!" Dropping her pitchfork, Ukraine bolted inland, hoping to find a way to get in contact with Russia.

Meanwhile, aboard the ships, a heated argument was flying back-and-forth betweeen the two flagships. England and France stood at the railings, arguing about their plan, taking every opportunity to hurl abuse in the process. Even as comrades on the verge of war, the two nations seemed like mortal enemies. "Well, Francis, why the bloody hell are we here anyway? You remember what Ludwig told you about trying an invasion!"

"Ah, Angleterre, this is no invasion... it is but a naval exercise, to let them know what we can do. A threat to send them running!"

"It'll send them running, all right..." England folded his arms and huffed, making no effort to hide his frustration. "Running straight across the Rhine and Alps!"

France shrugged this off, oddly confident. "Tais-toi, Angleterre. You will see."

...

"Dummkopf!" Prussia's hand struck Germany's face, leaving a distinct red handprint on his cheek. "What were you thinking, West, getting yourself mixed up in this?"

Germany gingerly stroked his cheek, his voice somewhat sheepish. "I am just doing what I can to protect my allies..."

"Protecting your allies? You're going to spark a pan-European war at this rate!" Prussia's voice was indignant, his eyes seemingly about to stare a hole through Germany's face. "War is fucking awesome, I have no qualms with saying that. But that's only so when I'm winning! And no-one's going to win a war like this! It'll be losers all round!"

"It was your idea to assist the Italians and Russians with supplying those armaments to the Balkans in the first place, Gilbert. They were your rifles, in fact..."

"I only did that because I wanted to beat up on old Sadiq! A free-for-all like what's starting now isn't going to be awesome for anyone - especially not me!" Prussia may have been a war-mongering blowhard, but he did have a brain, it seemed. "Fuck this, I'm going to go find old Four. Let's see if he can't talk some sense into the English and French..."

Germany stood there, stunned and unmoving as Prussia left, slamming the door behind him. Since when was Prussia so... rational?

...

All the nations now found themselves seated around a mid-sized table. Russia, North and South Italy, Prussia, Austria and Germany found themselves sitting directly across from their enemies - the Ottoman Empire, France and Britain. Hungary, Serbia, Montenegro, Albania, Moldavia and Wallachia had turned up as well. And, despite all coming in the name of peace, the delegates were far from peaceful. Their arguing and bickering continued ad nauseum, covering all manner of subjects - some only tangentally related to the war they were working to stop.

...

"Hey, Elizabeta!" Prussia gave the female nation a somewhat-seductive look across the conference table. "I'll try and get the Danube internationalised for you. What do you say to that?"

The Maygar looked up at the Prussian. "Really?" Hungry eyed him with a degree of suspicion.

"Yeah," he replied, sporting a cocky grin, "but only if you go out with me!" This remark was promptly met with a heavy iron frying pan to the face. "OW! What the hell was that for?"

A thick Russian voice interrupted the conversation. "Danube gets internationalised only if Serbia gets Banat region. Is fair, da?" Prussia grumbled. He didn't want to piss off Hungary any more by forcing her into a territorial concession to Serbia, but annoying his and Germany's biggest ally was most assuredly an even worse idea. Not like it mattered - he'd get her in the end anyway - he was awesome like that, he reasoned.

...

"Hey, Mihai." Moldavia nudged his brother Wallachia, who was starting to drift off. "I have an idea."

Wallachia looked up, sighing. "What is it, Dragoş?"

"We band together." The Moldavian was smiling at this idea. "We unite. We become Romania!"

Wallachia didn't look too sure. "You think Sadiq would let us do that?" Independence was one thing, but unification into something stronger probably wouldn't go down too well, he figured.

"We have Russia and Germany on our side now. He won't be able to say no!"

...

"And that, mon ami, is why we should share administration of the Holy Places in Palestine." France was just rounding off a long-winded explanation to Russia.

The giant nation quietly pondered the Frenchman's proposal. "Da, that makes sense. But," he added, "what of the Christian populations in Eastern Rumelia, Bulgaria and Bosnia? They need protection." Russia's voice had a strange quality emerge in it as he spoke that last part of the sentence.

France didn't seem to notice, though, instead just nodding in agreement. "True. Perhaps Angleterre and Italie should also come with. This concerns them too."

...

"Montenegro, Serbia... The Triple Alliance has managed to get the Ottoman Empire to recognise you." Speaking for his allies, Germany addressed the two Balkan countries. Before they could become too enthused, however, Germany spoke again, his voice subdued. "We can't allow you to marry each-other, though. Just a minor concession we had to make to the Ottomans."

"What?" Montenegro was shocked.

Serbia shook his head, slightly embarrassed. "What makes you think I like her, anyway?"

Montenegro pouted. "Are you saing I'm not good enough for you, Boris?"

"I didn't mean it like that!" Serbia was starting to get flustered at that point. "It's just-"

"Just what, huh?" She stared him down, hands on hips. "Oh, I get it. You'd rather just hang out with Russia, is that it?"

Germany sighed. This was going to be a long day.

...

Additional notes: Wallachia is part of Romania, and yeah, that's a rather nasty swear he pulled on Sadiq. I won't say what it was, though, but I wouldn't recommend repeating it amongst polite company.

Another fun fact - Russia was obsessed with claiming the Dardanelles for itself throughout the 19th Century, both here and in the real world - both for strategic (access to the Mediterranean during wartime) and symbolic (legitimising Russian claims to being the so-called "Third Rome") purposes.

The naval exercises with France and England are in preparation for a possible invasion of the Crimean peninsula, part of modern-day Ukraine. Of course, Crimea back then was Russian, but the rest of Ukraine would probably be close enough for a few eyebrows to be raised and for Ukraine/Katyusha here to notice.

And yes, I Anglicised Ukraine's signature "Russia-chan" into "dear Ivan/Russia"... I apologise if that disappointed anyone, but I just don't feel right making Slavic characters use Japanese expressions for no reason whatsoever. (Then again, speaking English isn't much better...)

"Running across the Rhine and Alps" refers to the fact that, in European geography, the Alps roughly define the Franco-Italian border, while the Rhine roughly approximates the Franco-German border - England's suggesting that France's foolhardiness is going to earn him an invasion from the east by the Triple Alliance countries.

Quick French lesson: "Angleterre" translates to "England", and "Tais-toi" translates roughly to "Shut up".

In our world, Garibaldi was responsible for uniting Italy in the 1860s. Here, he's a bit too late to do that, but he'll still have a few opportunities to prove that not every Italian keeps a white flag in their pocket (as adorable as that sounds).

And I hope no-one finds my portrayal of Prussia here too out of character. However, I feel every coin has two sides - even batshit-insane ones like Prussia.