"Bloody hell," muttered England.
Churchill looked up from his paperwork. "Something amiss?"
"Yes," the country hissed, crumpling a letter in his hands "Germany and his boss are going to go meet with Russia. They're sending Goering and Prussia instead."
"Well I don't see what the big fuss is about," stated the UK's boss, straightening his tie "Prussia's just eastern Germany, isn't it? I'm sure we can work it out somehow. Besides, Goering isn't half as slippery as his superior."
"Then you don't know Gilbert very well," he groaned.
Prussia. Unlike his serious, precise counterpart, the personified country was rude, loud, and boisterous. A hooligan and a drunk, his hobby was to see how many words he could say before a fight ensured. A sinister character with a bloodlust, he enjoyed fighting for the violence, unlike his brother who claimed to just be following orders from his boss. Undoubtedly the most insane and evil country of all, that is, if Russia did not exist. He'd find a way to bring chaos to London for sure.
Arthur cleared his throat, straightened his tie and, with an affirmative nod from his boss, prepared to open the door. The royal family had come as well, eager as ever to for the first time catch a sight of their personified enemy. Princess Elizabeth stared at the door in concentration, ready to face the dastardly foe on the other side.
The door swung open and she was not disappointed. The diplomats on the other side were most sinister indeed. One she recognized from pictures, which was Goering. The other seemed to be simply a guarding soldier. But the third- the third man was obviously the evil nation. He was tall, thin, and very pale. He was clad in the black schutzstaffel officer's uniform, complete with the black cap with the skull emblem. But what struck her as absolute evidence were his eyes- which were deep red, and seemed almost to glow beneath the shadow of his cap.
It was Churchill's turn to clear his throat. "Well, I'd make introductions but…you two seem to know each other well enough." England narrowed his eyes.
"Ah, Herr Beilschmidt," said Goering softly, "this is the royal family." It was as if he were giving his bloodhound a scent.
Prussia grinned widely and bowed low, mockingly. The show had begun.
The meeting seemed to be going on without a hitch, but then again Elizabeth wasn't paying much attention. All of her focus was on…him. The German. The Nazi. The Enemy in its greatest form.
He sat there sinisterly, a shadow to his leader. But then again, her brave country seemed to be doing the same, not saying a word. It seemed evident that as the countries were not used to being seen by human beings, they certainly weren't used to voicing their opinions as well. That is, until-
"Well what do you think, Arthur?" asked his boss.
England snapped his head up in surprise. Prussia and his boss had identical stunned expressions on their faces.
"Me, sir?" he asked, tentatively.
"Yes," was the reply, much amused, "you. I occasionally like hearing my country's opinion. Don't you, Herr Goering?"
Goering narrowed his eyes. "Why not?" he snarled. He got up with a start, and gallantly offering his chair to his country. "Wouldn't you like to lead the debate, Gilbert?"
Gilbert, who had not said a word yet, grinned and took a seat. Facing his enemy country, he placed his chin in his hands and raised his eyebrows.
"You seem to be at your pinnacle, Beilschimdt. I wonder when you fall from the edge?"
A single, white eyebrow was raised.
"Well, I promise you this much," said the UK, leaning forward, "tell your brother to stop bombing my streets. Or I swear to God, I'll go after Italy with all I've got. And he wouldn't want that, now would he?"
Prussia's eyes gleamed.
"Now, despite your reputation for never shutting up, I've noticed you haven't said a word. I'm curious to as of why. Are you scared?" A side glance to Goering "Do you fear that if you speak out against your boss, you'll be punished? Please enlighten me."
Wordlessly, the Prussian leaned over the conference table and handed the Brit a note, before raising a single finger at him to clearly proclaim his views.
Then he opened his mouth wide.
They've cut out my tongue, read the note.
Then woke up. She had dozed off briefly, though no one had noticed. A snarky voice was speaking, though she could not place it.
"-yourself, fuzz brows. Mein Gott, your political analyzing iz worse than your cooking! I bet if I sent Francis in my place, I could still totally kick your ass! Oh, wait, zat already happened!"
"Gilbert," said his boss warningly.
"Quiet alright," snarled his counter country, "it always amuses me to hear from the has been. He never did regain himself after his empire fell through," he mentioned, addressing his boss.
"Same goes for you!" the German spat, "At least the country I raised didn't turn his back on me. What a God-awful parent you must have been for that to happen- or was he just sick of your cooking?'
Elizabeth's father slammed his fists onto the table. "That is enough," he roared. "This meeting was supposed mend foreign relations after…" he trailed of, gesturing at the countries, "we learned about…such things as them. But you" he said, turning to the albino, "remind me of an attention deprived child. You claim to be the leader of all German states, you bloody well better start acting like it!" Gilbert sulked, biting his lip. "And you," he continued, rounding towards his own country, 'I would have expected better! If we are to be the good side of this war, we better be accommodating to our guests, no matter how rude and brute they are!"
Prussia raised his cap a bit to scratch his platinum locks, and that's when Elizabeth saw something extraordinary.
She asked the question she had been waiting the entire meeting to ask. "Why is there a bird under your cap?" It took all of her courage gathered up at once to address such a frightening country.
The eastern German country was, to say the least, surprised that one of England's -fuzz brows, for Gott's sake!- non-bosses was addressing him. But then again, as he had totally pwnd him last week, it wasn't a big surprise that she had approached him. And who could resist he awesome Prussian charm, anyway?
"You must mean ze Gilbird," was his response in a heavy German accent, as per usual. He didn't really like speaking English. "Vat about him?"
"Well...wouldn't he suffocate under there, then?"
"Suffocate?!" he asked, thunderstruck. "Why zeh fuckin hell would that happen?! Listen- I'm a country, right?"
The girl nodded.
"Means eets a lot fuckin harder to die, doesn't it? For example when I got shot in zeh ass by zat leetle pansy you like to pledge allegiance to, I didn't die of blood loss, did I? I'm still here, right? No limp?"
"Still here," was the confirmation.
"So, the same applies to my cute little bird! An' he stays under my hat all day, no problem! You know why that is?"
"You said, because you're a country."
"~Nein, It's because I am awesome, of course."
The princess stared at the grinning man. "Because…you're awesome?"
"What's with zeh look?" She now realized what an honor it was to be in his awesome presence, should she be, like, bowing or something?
"…You're an idiot, East Germany."
" 'S Prussia," he said much offended, ignoring the greater insult. "My younger brother's Germany."
"You're younger brother?! Good God, he looks like he could eat you at tea time!"
"…as long as your Kirkland isn't cooking me, I'd probably be edible enough for him to do so."
"-So," interrupted the human, horribly addled by the many twists and turns of the conversation and eager to bring it back, "Can I pet your bird?"
"…vat?" He asked, perfect disgust and horror written on his face. Had she offended him somehow?
"Your…'gilbird'. Can I pet him?" She said the words quickly, afraid of his rebuff. What reason did have to be kind to her enemy! He would probably laugh loudly horridly in her face and-
"Oh…oh! You literally meant the bird and- yeah, heh, sure, kid."He really had to stop hanging out with France, he thought.
He reached under his black cap embedded with the death's head skull and pulled out a happily chirping, bright yellow, and absolutely adorable chicklet. It rested in his black-gloved palms, and as Elizabeth cupped her hands the country gently placed it in her palms.
It was soft.
"Cute, isn't he," the albino snickered, "Funny that after all these hundreds of years, I can't think of a name, eh?"
The princess cocked her head to the side quizzically. "Why don't you name it 'Fritz'?" Wasn't Fritz the most common German name?
He stared at her, hard. Then he broke into a fabulous grin that seemed to light up his face completely.
"Why hadn't I thought of that? Fritz is my favorite name!" Elizabeth noticed that he had completely lost his accent and commented on the fact.
"Oh, I faked that," he said casually. "It pisses Arthur off."
"Ah," she said, laughing.
His head suddenly snapped to attention. "My boss it calling me," he said apologetically "I must be going now." His chick –Fritz, now- chirped once and then nestled back in his master's hair.
"Er- do you have any good advice, Mr. Prussia?"She called after him. She had to ask.
"I do kid," he replied, turning around "Don't believe what Austria says, he married a dude. Hungary defiantly had a penis. Oh! And stay away from Russia, because that jerk's one crazy motherfu-"
That was the last time she saw the country. She had asked about him after the war, but according to his brother he had not been heard of since the wall had gone up.
When the wall came down, she found out that he was dead. And she never forgot the conversation that they had had.
It is my opinion that only a country's boss can see them. In this universe even this was not until very recently, when the countries revealed themselves to their bosses in order to try and stop the war. (America started the trend, unsurprisingly). Anyway, one day I thought, Hey! What if England's leaders had met Prussia? And this is what came out.