"I watched the semi-finals last night." Prussia broke the silence at the table, where he and Germany were having breakfast...Prussia practically stealing all buns and coffee from his younger brother.

"So?" Germany asked, raising his eyes from the tablecloth. He had not been able to watch it because work had left him so exhausted he went to bed early. He didn't care about not watching it: either Prussia or Italy would tell him as soon as he got up in the morning.

"Austria is in. Also Switzerland and Belgium. Australia, Russia, Poland, Ukraine...I don't know who else..."

"Oh."

There was nothing else he wanted or needed to know, now he knew which neighbors and friends he would encounter at the contest, so Germany's gaze and thoughts got lost again somewhere in the kitchen.

But it seemed Prussia had something else to say, because he kept staring at him in a way that attracted his attention and made him frown.

"What?"

"There's a lot of competition this year. Have you rehearsed?" Prussia asked.

"Well, I have a lot to take care of, it's like I have a hole in my wallet lately; I can't focus much on Eurovision."

"Yeah, sure. Always so busy. Doing things in a rush. That's why you always choose the worst songs the composers offer you."

"I like them." Germany frowned.

"West, open your eyes, all songs you've been sending these last years were shit, a shit so big it couldn't go through the door! And to make things worse you let the guys from styling dress you like a character out of Japan's trippiest animes! Australia's got a staging that would give Broadway musicals a run for their money. Ukraine, I don't even know what the song was about, she was wearing a dress that makes all males and lesbians in the room howl like wolves in heat. Moldova dances great. And what do you got? A song about bees! As if someone cared about the stupid bees!"

"I thought you enjoyed mocking me. You are usually the fastest to post memes about me on Twitter."

"It is fun, but it is also awful. I want to win some time, eh?"

"Then do it yourself. Ah, no, wait, you can't. You're not a nation anymore."

Germany's words made Prussia's frown sharpen. It was almost fun to Germany, the pout Prussia made.

"That hurt and was completely uncalled for. But there's some truth in there: I am no one now. My days are counted. I have these many years in the world, and I want to see you, my legacy, taste victory for once."

"I have already won. Two times."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I suppose you consider that not winning every year is being a loser and making a fool of yourself." Having finished breakfast, and having had enough of Prussia's nonsense, Germany stood up. "Well, sorry, but I have more important things to do than Eurovision. I am not a professional singer. We do this for fun, remember? And that's what I plan to do: have fun with my silly songs."

And he left the kitchen, leaving Prussia shaking his head.

Aw, Germany didn't understand! A lot of politics were involved. The winner received tons of tourists, which meant a juicy income. It was not fun. It was a competition! International exposure!

Rubbing his chin, Prussia started ruminating an idea.

Germany wouldn't win unless he bribed the whole Europe or the rest of the countries suffered a salmonella outbreak.

A grin started to grow on his face.

Yes...That was it...

"Andorra's classified! I knew she could do it! She has been practicing for so long! She did great! Oh, I'm so happy for her! She couldn't join us these last years because she was short of money, but I had a few secret savings and used them to help her out." Spain was telling Romano over the phone. The screen showed a smile from ear to ear.

"No wonder you're always broke, always giving money to others." Romano shook his head.

"What is money for, if you don't spend it on the people you love? I haven't seen my lovely kid in a while and I was dying to. Also, well, this might be my last Eurovision, so I might as well have all of my friends there."

Romano raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Spain paused, looking away.

"Nothing. Just a thought. One of my stupid ideas, you know. So, what about we hit the bar after the contest, you and I? Or maybe we can call someone else over."

"Oh, no, no, no. I have enough putting up with you. And last time I went partying with Veneciano, he drank too much and he passed out after a long dissertation about the Cinquecento, and I want none of that."

"Oh, come on, Romano, the more the merrier!"

"Sure, you always do some trick to avoid paying the bill! I haven't forgotten the last one, when you faked fainting and got into an ambulance and all!"

"Hehe...Don't look at me like that, man, it was fun!"

His laughter suddenly turned into a cough. The phone shook and ended up showing Romano the ceiling of Spain's house, but he still could hear him cough, and take air desperately, only to keep coughing. He could hear Spain's lungs sounding like a broken engine, him struggling to breathe.

"Uh...Spagna?" Romano frowned.

The coughing finally ceased after some eternal seconds. Spain grabbed the phone again to show that his face was now red and tears were falling.

"Sorry, I...Uhm...Chocked on my own saliva."

"Idiot, you scared me."

"No, it's okay, it's all okay."

But he looked exhausted.

"So, see you in Stockholm, pal!" He said, and his voice sounded faint too.

"Uh, yeah, sure..."

Spain hanged up and before getting to work took a second to make another call, to his friend Pablo.

"Hey, Pablito, what's up? I'm fine, getting ready for Eurovision, I have a rehearsal this afternoon...Yeah...Yeah, I have worked hard, but you know what happens year after year: I'll be lucky if I don't end up among the last three. I hate it, because it's not that I don't put any effort into it, you know that...Yeah...Yeah...Totally, I'm even thinking about forgetting about the whole thing, because it doesn't matter what I send, no one ever votes for me, and I'm tired of ending up frustrated...True, at least we get a few laughs, don't we? So, how are you, dude? What about that girl you were after, Yolanda?"

Romano kept looking at the phone long after Spain hanged up and remained there with it in his hand, thinking, just thinking.

Spain thought he was an idiot. That was not the cough one has when they have choked on their own saliva...His lungs were damaged. He had seen it before, because he was very old and had gone through many pandemics and seen much disease. The way he desperately tried to breathe. Was Spain sick? Well, that he knew of, he was not going through a good moment...Also...What he said...About helping Andorra economically so she could join the contest, to be with her...'This might be my last Eurovision'...

And so he felt as if freezing water had been poured on him, because, to him, there was just one possible conclusion: Spain was dying.

England had been watching the trophies on the fireplace for long. Puppet on a string, 1967. Boom Bang-a-Bang, 1969. Save your kisses for me, 1976. Making your mind up, 1981. Love, shine a light, 1997. Not bad, not bad at all.

That was why this century was being frustrating.

Not only hadn't he won any festival ever since the new millennium came: he had tasted the last positions too often. Two years before, he had gotten no points at all. The year before, he had just gotten one single point, from France.

Sure, the frog thought it was so funny...Having to 'owe' him that...It was way more embarrassing than if he had gotten nothing...

But not that year! That year, he would make the tables turn. He had worked his heart practically from the very moment Sweden was elected the winner the year before. He had taken a lot of classes on singing and dancing.

Would that be enough? Who knew...Europe was filled with bastards...

That was why he had to make it spectacular...

He caressed the spell book in his hands, a smile growing.

This year, he would make history, and he would have France's jaw dropping playing on a loop in one of those digital frames...

England was his friend. True they had had a lot of...differences, to put it some way, in the past, but it was all over. They were good pals, cooperated in tons of issues. But at that time of the year France felt how his disgust towards England returned and made his blood boil at the mention of that name.

Like England, he had won the contest five times. They were in a tie. There had to come a day when one of them showed the other who was the best.

He stopped for a second to glance at his reflection in the mirror. He saw himself with a lion's mane, his head up high, his eyes flaming in pride.

He would be the best.

"We take it from there, okay?"

France nodded.

Ever since 2000, he had not been much lucky in the contest. He had tasted the humiliation of the last place, and year after year he was always among the last ten. And he didn't know why. His staging was elegant, his songs and himself were refined. Not even experimenting with something a bit more playful worked. He had come to believe that his European fellows wouldn't have known talent if it hit them in the balls.

France left the bottle of water aside and joined his partner.

But this time nobody would resist his charm.

He had gotten a great collaborator to make a duo with.

"That last note was a bit off key, but you're getting it right." David told him. David Guetta, of course.

"Too bad you didn't get to the final, Lithuania. Your song wasn't that bad." Poland said.

"Gee, thanks, Poland." His friend replied, smiling a bit.

"You looked like you were glued to the spot, had a few squawks here and there, but, hey, it could have been worse! Nobody threw any tomatos at you..." Of course, what was Lithuania expecting?

"Oh, boy, oh, boy..." Georgia approached, leaving her purse to sit by Estonia's side.

"What's the matter, Georgia? You look a little grim today..." Ukraine observed.

"I have been thinking that maybe it was not a good idea to earn a place in the contest..." The little nation sighed.

"Why? I thought you enjoyed it, and we hadn't seen you in a while." Estonia said.

"Yes, I love Eurovision, but...After the emotional hangover of yesterday, I have come to realize...Now I am running against Russia!"

"Thank you, Georgia, it was being a very nice day until you brought it up..." Moldova grunted, leaving his coffee aside with sudden discomfort.

"One more year, we'll have to put up with Russia...I had forgotten, too..." Ukraine sighed, bowing her head.

"Nice. One more year having to give him a good amount of points..." Poland placed his head on a hand.

"One more year trying not to overshadow him..." Moldova nodded slowly.

"At the risk of having a tank at your door..." Lithuania closed his eyes.

"Is it too late to resign? I don't want to be on his bad side again..." Georgia bit her under lip.

"No, Georgia, you earned your right to be in the final. Just...well...try not to make Russia mad..." Ukraine said.

"Yeah, he got to make Belarus abstain this year because he didn't like the song she was presenting, because he didn't like it! It was about having fun at the beach, but he insisted he was seeing anti-Russian messages in it...And I've heard he's behind Armenia failing in the semi-finals." Estonia said.

"Well, it's not fair, isn't it? Eurovision is very fun, and he's ruining it, just like in the days of the Union. Why do we have to be scared of singing in front of him?" Latvia stood up. "We should be excited that our voices will be heard. Russia is a bully!"

"But Latvia, the tank..." Ukraine muttered.

"To hell with the tank! If we join our forces, he can't do anything to us! Together we are bigger than him!" Latvia looked at each one of his partners. "What do you say? This year, we won't give him points he doesn't deserve! We will vote whoever we want, and sing as well as we can!"

"You know what? Latvia is right." Poland raised his head. "If we show him he can't keep doing what he wants to us, that we don't put up with his bullshit anymore, he will finally respect us! We will be independent!"

"What if he demolishes us all...?" Georgia was still so intimidated she looked about to cry just by the thought of facing Russia.

"Georgia, Russia is very scary and very powerful, yes, but if there is one time of the year when someone as small as you can beat him in something, it is Eurovision." Latvia told her.

The small nation was silent for a moment, then she hit the table.

"You are right!" She said.

"Yeah, let's do it!" The others exclaimed.

"We will vote for you instead of him." Lithuania said after exchanging a glance with Estonia.

"I will talk to Armenia and Azerbaijan." Moldova said.

"And I, with my sister." Ukraine nodded.

"Russia will see what we're capable of!" Poland exclaimed.

They hushed when Ukraine got an incoming call. They saw how the female got pale after seeing the name on the screen.

"H-Hello, brother..."

"My ears have been ringing for a while. Are you talking about me?" The others could hear without Ukraine having to activate the speakers.

"Uh...Uhm...Of course not..."

Eurovision, after all, was one week away...