Fairies cannot lie.
In fact, not only are the fae physically incapable of telling untruths, they can also quite easily detect whenever a human does — and if they happen to be close to that particular human, they can even hear the truth behind each falsification as though there had never been a lie at all. This not only applies to blatant lies, but half-truths, evasions, omissions, and even the most powerful lies of all; those one tells to oneself.
This particular magical quality made world meetings very uncomfortable events for England's fairy friends, who were currently watching the nation in question opening his oven and releasing the usual cloud of billowing smoke. He coughed and waited for it to subside, waving his hand in front of his face in a futile attempt to dispel the choking miasma. After he had deemed it safe to proceed, he reached into the oven and took out a pan of shrivelled, blackened lumps.
"Ah!" he said, smiling over his shoulder at his flying companions. "The scones are ready! They look absolutely scrumptious! I'm sure the others will appreciate these treats at the meeting today."
The fairies in question winced at the first lie of the no doubt countless others to come that day reared its head. They could hear England's true feelings on the subject as clearly as though he had spoken them aloud.
Ugh! I burned them again! No one's going to want to touch these things, let alone consume them. It's pathetic — I represent the entire United bloody Kingdom, and I can't even make a decent scone!
England packed the scones away in a Tupperware container, shrugging on his mackintosh as he did so (true, it wasn't raining yet, but this was London, and England was never one to be underprepared). He grabbed his briefcase and umbrella, stepped into his galoshes, and ventured out into the grey morning, tucking the container under one arm.
It was still rather early, and England shivered a bit as the damp spring air hit his skin. Truth be told, he needn't have left to walk to the nearby London hotel for a while longer, but England always prided himself on being punctual, as he had told Flying Mint Bunny when the aerial leporine had asked why the nation was leaving so soon. And a quiet, early-morning stroll will let me enjoy a last bit of peace and quiet before the pandemonium begins, sounded his unspoken addition in the fairies' minds.
They shared a silent, unhappy look with each other as the blond nation walked. Generally speaking, England was a rather honest person; not scrupulously so, but fairly forthright. However, whenever he was forced to attend a meeting with the other countries, the amount of falsehoods his companions detected grew tenfold. It seemed that the European just couldn't bring himself to be entirely truthful when it came to the other nations. Part of it was politics, but most had to do with the standoffish persona he adopted around the others (well, more standoffish than usual, anyway).
Actually, it was mostly just one particular nation who caused the majority of his lies, now that they came to think about it...
Eventually, England reached the hotel, and sat down in the conference room to wait for the others to arrive. They trickled in slowly and milled about in the room (carefully avoiding the toxic-looking scones in the middle of the table). The more responsible nations such as Germany and Japan arrived on time, while the more laid-back or irresponsible showed up extremely late (Greece, for example, had apparently somehow fallen back to sleep in the midst of getting dressed, and Italy rushed in an hour or so after the prearranged time babbling excuses — something to do with a "pasta emergency" and a cat). England gave all of the latecomers his best disapproving glare, but his companions knew he wasn't truly annoyed. I knew this was going to happen. Good thing I set the meeting time a couple of hours earlier than necessary.
As the minutes ticked by, however, the false irritation gradually morphed into the genuine article. Looking around and noticing the conspicuous absence of a certain blond North American nation, the fairies could guess why.
Eventually, England turned to France, who was sitting next to him. "Bloody frog, what the hell's happened to America?"
France stopped attempting to molest Finland (which was rather fortunate for him, as Sweden had been looking over at the pair with a dangerous glint in his eyes) and shrugged in response. "Je ne sais pas, Angleterre. But Canada might — why don't you ask him where his frère is hiding?" When England hesitated, France rolled his eyes. "Please tell me you haven't forgotten him again!"
"Sh-shut up!" England responded, reddening. "Of course I remember Canada!" Canada? The name sounds familiar, but I can't quite.... "Where is he, anyway?"
But the flirty Frenchman had already disappeared in stealthy pursuit of Finland, who was now several metres away. England sighed, then jumped as he heard a small voice coming from behind him.
"A-actually, I'm right here, eh..."
The other nation sighed. It appeared as though he was used to this type of treatment, although, strangely, the fairies could not remember ever seeing him until this day. "No, I'm Canada, his brother, remember?"
"O-oh yes, of course." No lie there; apparently, England had finally been able to recall the identity of the easily forgettable blond. "Would you happen to know where your brother is at the moment?"
"I'm sorry, I'm not sure where he is. Hopefully he'll turn up soon, eh?" the Canadian said, giving an apologetic smile.
At that moment, France reappeared, sporting a large new lump on his head. "Worried about l'Amerique, England?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
England immediately reddened. "Git! Of course I'm not worried about that stupid twat!" Where is he? Did something happen to him on the way? Did an emergency come up in his country that we haven't heard about yet? "In fact, if he didn't have to be here for the meeting to start proper, I'd say that we were better off without him," he added, sniffing disdainfully. There's nothing I want more right now than to see him walk in here, safe and sound!
"Ah, but the two of you have a — what was it — 'special relationship', no?" France grinned and waggled his eyebrows. In response, England hit him.
"Oooh, Mon Dieu..." the flirtatious nation moaned, rubbing the now-larger lump on his head in pain.
"I told you to stop calling it that, wanker! It sounds moronic!" England yelled, red in the face once more. The name is rather, well, sweet, if a bit embarassing. I wish America would use the term once in a while...
The fracas was interrupted by the sudden 'BOOM!' of the conference room door hitting the wall. America ran inside, clutching a McD*nald's bag and chewing on a Big Mac as he ran.
"Mrmph frrl grbl iksch shlp!" America said, spraying bits of hamburger everywhere.
"Swallow your food before you start talking, pillock! It's disgusting!" It's rather endearing, the way he's so eager to speak that he doesn't even remember to finish eating first.
America rolled his eyes, but quickly gulped down the rest of the Big Mac. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. So, anyway, the hero is here, everybody! We can all get started on the meeting now!"
"W-wait, hang on a tick, plonker! Just where the hell were you this whole time?" Are you all right? You're not hurt or in any trouble, are you?
America sat down at the table, putting his feet up and casually leaning his chair back. In a nonchalant voice, he said, "Well, I overslept, and then I was super hungry, so I went to go and get a burger. But the line was really long at McD*nald's, so I was there for a while. I guess you Brits can't get enough of my awesome food, huh, England? It's loads better than any of that crap you eat over here, anyway."
"My food is delicious!" England sputtered. It is generally somewhat bland... or burnt... or both. "And are you trying to tell me that you've kept us waiting here for hours just so that you could get a bloody Big Mac?" You idiot, I was really worried about you!
America puffed out his cheeks in indignation. "No way!" He smiled cheekily and held up five fingers. "It was five Big Macs. I was pretty hungry by the time I finally got to the end of the line."
"ENOUGH!" Germany's booming voice cut through the bickering and the chatter of the other nations' conversations. "Sit down, all of you! Now that America is here, we can finally get the meeting started!"
The countries complied, and the World Meeting (finally) proceeded as planned.
Throughout the meeting, the fairies caught England sneaking glances at America when the younger nation wasn't looking. This was another habit of his that had been happening more and more lately. It would have been obvious to anyone watching that the Briton was completely infatuated with the boy — or, at least, obvious to anyone who had any talent whatsoever at reading the atmosphere.
And that, mused the eldest fairy as they were leaving, is the problem. America was notoriously awful at exactly that; in other words, the one person who really should know about England's feelings was completely oblivious to them. And England would never confess his feelings on his own — look at how long it had taken all of the magical creatures to get him to stop denying how he truly felt! No, there was no way he would ever be honest with America on his own.
Suddenly, an idea hit her like the proverbial ton of bricks. As soon as they reached the house, he gathered her six sisters in a huddle, out of England's earshot, and conferred with them in hushed whispers while the nation was busy reading. Eventually, they all agreed — they'd been listening to the man lie to himself and others for far too long. He was unhappy, and they all loved him too much to let him stay that way. Something needed to change, and if England wasn't going to change it on his own, the seven sisters would just have to do it for him.
That night, when England was sound asleep, the fairies quietly flew into his room and hovered above his head. Each fairy was a different colour of the rainbow, and they gathered in a circle above his sleeping blond head in chromatic formation.
The eldest, who was the red fairy and the leader of the group, began the spell.
Your lies to those around you
Have placed you in this mess;
We advised you to be honest
But you would not acquiesce.
It seems you're always lying,
Both to others and to you.
By dint of magic we will make
An honest man of you.
The others joined in, beginning to glow with magical power.
From now on, the words you speak
Will only be forthright;
You can no longer tell a lie
Come the end of this night.
The ability to falsify
Will leave gradually,
Lies, omissions, half-truths, then
The whole ability.
As one, the sisters lowered their hands, each creating a coloured beam of light. The spectrum of magic poured into the unknowing nation's unconscious body as they finished the incantation.
There's but one way to stop this
And that is to address
The one truth you so long to tell
But have not yet confessed.
Of your own volition must
The revelation be,
For only then will our spell
Vanish and set you free.
The deed was done, the enchantment cast. England slept on, unaware of the chaos his life was about to descend into.
I'd just like to preface this author's note by telling you all that I must be an idiot.
Why? Well, instead of working on my other ongoing story (in a different fandom from this, I might add), or the other project I'd promised those readers, I've decided to start another fic at the same time. It's the plotbunnies, I tell you. They drive me to insomnia! (I haven't abandoned BATBOS, for those who are currently reading it — I'm just going to attempt to try to juggle both at once, despite not being an experienced fanfic writer as of yet. *sigh*)
Oh, and if you're wondering why Canada seemed to sort of disappear, the fairies (and England, France, and pretty much everyone) forgot about him. Again. :( Poor guy. *cough*Canada-centric fic series coming eventually*cough*
"Je ne sais pas" means "I don't know", and "frère" is French for "brother". "Mon Dieu" and "Angleterre" mean "My God" (usage similar to "Oh, God" or "Dear God" in English) and "England", respectively.
Any feedback is appreciated! This is my first Hetalia fic, so I hope to do the characters justice. The quality of my writing will hopefully improve with later chapters, when I don't have to deal with a) the awkwardness of fairy POV and b) sleep deprivation.