Feliciano Vargas laid himself out happily on the grass. It was a beautiful day, the mountains were picturesque. It made him forget he was quite possibly going to be late to Mass. He wasn't late yet, so he didn't worry, sinking deeper into the hillside.

Besides, as mentioned earlier, it was beautiful that day. The type of day where people sighed and watched the clouds, not bothered even if it was nearing time for Mass.

He sat up suddenly to stretch and yawn. He liked life at the abbey, he'd been there since childhood. He'd settled on the idea that this was all there was to life, that he would become a nun himself and live out the rest of his days with Mother Arthur, Sister Alfred and Sister Francis.

Yes, life had always been kind to him.

Well, except for the time Sister Francis had tried to get him to…

He shuddered and broke off the thought.

Feliciano smiled as he stood, his eyes watched over the Austrian countryside. There was such peace and routine to this life, it even made up for the fact that his favorite food was a rare treat at the abbey.

Which reminded him.

"THE HILLS ARE ALIVE! WITH THE SOUND OF PASTA!" He'd been very much wanting to say that.

No, he didn't say it, he sang it.

If there was anything he loved almost as much as pasta, it was music. He spent most of his free time on the hillside, singing and humming and doing things that generally annoyed the nuns. He'd be off for hours, rolling on the ground, dreaming about pasta, and making up songs. It was the core of his free-spirited existence. That and the hopes of someday being a nun. They were the reasons why he was a lighthearted, happy person who made good company.

He cleared his throat, prepared to sing to no one but the mountains.

"The hills are alive with the sound of pasta

With songs they have sung for a thousand years

The hills fill my heart with the sound of pasta

My heart wants to sing every song it hears"

He fell over in pure delight, writing the next verse in his head. He was prepared to stand up again to entertain the mountains, when he heard a piercing shout.


The shout came from across the field, more importantly, from the loving, gentle, wise Mother Arthur.

"I'm sorry! I was singing!" He paused, thinking of a better excuse. "I was singing about pasta." He hurried his way over to the angry man, who was tsking in disapproval. He brushed off his dress as he ran, trying to at least look presentable.

"If I wasn't a servant of God, your Goddamn head would be separated from your fucking body!" He helped brush off the dirt. "I swear, do you have brain?" He looked at the boy, concerned and sincere this time. "I worry about you, kid."

Yes, a swearing nun. It was simply apart of his simple life.

"I'm fine, Mother Arthur. It's so lovely outside, I just felt like singing about pasta to the hills." He grinned a dreamy, far off grin and cocked his head to the side in a mindless manner.

"God, help the kid, he certainly is an interesting piece of Your work." Mother Arthur looked to the sky shaking his head. "C'mon." He sighed at the hopeless boy. "We're almost late. Because you HAD to sing about bloody pasta."

"Okay." He was disappointed, his afternoon of singing and dreaming had been canceled.


First off, I don't own Hetalia or the Sound of Music, even though I love them both.

This is co-written/formulated by my BFF raeboy, who wants me to mention that we're not so stupid that we don't know nuns are always women. But in the end, it was decided that we'd rather they were nuns instead of monks because, really, it's a lot funnier.

This isn't an average chapter, they're usually longer. I tried to put more in, but it just wasn't working and the scene had to end at SOME point, so I decided make it too short instead of too long.

I hope to post another soon =)