When I regained my sight, I was standing on a table, looking at the ceiling. The ceiling looked like any other, so I thought maybe I had somehow ended up on a table in the library.

I know; it was stupid to hope.

For just a moment, I thought perhaps the room was empty, it being so silent, and that I could maybe get down and go about my day like nothing had happened. A few seconds later, however, that particular option was rendered out of the question.

The room was suddenly flooded with shouting. Much of it, I did not understand, and only later would I realise that it was because most of the people shouting were doing so in languages that were not English. I looked down to see several people yelling at each other as they stood around the table I was positioned on. The table was much larger than I had thought it would be, which was needed, because there were easily twenty or twenty five people around the table, maybe more. Finally, after several minutes of arguing, a tall, blond man shouted above the rest.

"Enough! Zis fighting is getting us novhere," he yelled, then calmed when the others quieted, "und I fear zat we are scaring zeh girl." His accent was quite obviously German, though his English seemed fine.

He did seem quite familiar, as did the setting; but, as usual, I could not place where the feeling was coming from.

"Yeah, guys," a strange Italian-sounding man said. I say strange because he looked so happy compared to those around him, and also because there was no way he could see me; his eyes were closed. "We should all stop-a fighting and make bella feel welcome!"

The other people standing around the table, who I noticed were mostly men, seemed mildly annoyed by the Italian's interjection, but they clearly either were intimidated by the German man or did not wish to scare me. The latter was certainly true, for, while the Italian was speaking, another blond man with bright green eyes gestured for me to climb down off of the table. I walked across the table towards him, attempting to dodge the strange assortment of trinkets on the table, stumbling several times before arriving in front of the man, he held out his hands and smiled kindly, though I could hear several others stifling laughs behind me. I grabbed his hands in mine and hopped down, stumbling as I landed. He caught me and steadied me though, guiding me to a chair.

"Sit down, poppet, and we can all talk." His voice sounded very British to me.

"Oh, Arzur, stop torturing ze poor girl. She should obviously sit by me so—" I felt a tug on my arm, and turned to see a guy, only slightly younger than the British man, with longer, somehow blonder hair and light blue eyes smiling (a bit creepily) down at me. From the sound of his voice, he was French, which would explain his outfit; it looked like he was wearing a dress.

"Shut up, Francis!" I looked back to the Englishman to see that the smile was gone, leaving a deep frown that distorted his handsome face. "I simply want her to sit down so that she may be introduced and we can get on with the meeting." Again, he took my hand and led me to the chair, gesturing for me to sit as he glared at the Frenchman, Francis, who went back to sit six or seven chairs away from the German guy, who paid him no attention. The Englishman, Arthur, I guess, stood to the left of my chair, which made me feel slightly awkward, and I shifted a little in my seat.

"Vell, now zat zat is finished" the German man said, "Vee should probably start vizz names. I am Ludvig, vhat is your name?" He looked at me expectantly, as did the others.

"Uuuhhh-ummm L-Lillian?" I looked at everyone, a bit embarrassed by my stuttering, and felt my face heat up. I was quite sure that my face was tomato red.

The others went around the table, saying their names in their various accents. Some of the accents, I knew. Antonio sounded like he came from Spain, while Ivan sounded Russian. I had already known where Ludwig, Francis, and Arthur came from because of their previous talking. I thought that Kiku Honda was Japanese, but I had never heard a Japanese person speak before except for on television, and could not be sure. The Italian from before was named Feliciano, and another Italian man who could have been his (much darker, evil, and reverse) twin was named Lovino. Many of the other accents were foreign to me (pun definitely intended), though I was pretty sure that the man named Alfred was American, made perfectly clear when he introduced himself by saying, or rather shouting, "Hey, dude! I'm Alfred!" and smiling widely while winking.

It was only after the introductions, of which Alfred was last, that I realized why everyone seemed so familiar.

"Holy Roman Empire!" I gasped under my breath. No one seemed to hear me except for Arthur, who knelt by my chair to ask what was wrong. "You guys—I mean, you're all—" I could scarcely speak, I was so shocked.

"It's alright, go ahead," Arthur encouraged with a smile.

"Countries," I said finally. I watched as the smile slipped off of his face into a look of complete shock. "You're all countries." I looked around the table, seeing if anyone would deny it, but they all looked too shocked to say anything. "Everything makes so much more sense," I said, putting my elbows on the table and my head in my hands.

"Vhat do you mean, 'everyzing makes sense'?"

Duh, dun, duuun! This story is soooo weird, I know. I promise, though: it's going to pick up soon. Maybe two or three chapters, I think…Then we'll see just why Lillian's gotten trapped here. ;)

Hope you guys like this story. Read & Review!