Once upon a time, in the vast blue waters of the Mediterranean, there was a beautiful island called Cyprus. In Nicosia, the capital of Cyprus, there was a talented sculpture. His name was England, and he had many patrons (and a Patreon account). He was a craftsman of many statues in various mediums that ranged from gold to simple stone. This was the story of his finest work that changed his life and won him love.
"You know I want you... It's not a secret I try to hide. I know you want me... So don't keep saying our hands are tied." England sang, skillfully chiseling a bit off a marble sculpture. "You claim it's not in the-" He was interrupted by a large crash at the front of his shop. He set down his mallet and iron chisel and walked to the front of the store.
A man with brown hair was fretting over the marble corgi that he had accidentally broke.
"Hello, picking up something?" England asked, slightly annoyed. He had worked hard on that statue.
The man jumped about a foot in the air. "Ve! I'm sorry! I j-just saw the little dog and I thought it looked so real I wanted to pet it! I didn't do it on purpose! I swear!" he stammered, shaking from head to foot.
"It's all right." England said. "I'll just make another one. So, do you need something?"
"Oh! I'm picking something up that I commissioned a few weeks ago. It's under the name Italy Veneziano?" the man asked.
"Uh.... let me check..." England said, scratching the back of his neck. He headed to the back of his studio, which doubled as a storage unit for all his completed commissions. He strolled through the aisle marked E-I. "Iceland... India... Italy. There it is." He rolled the statue out into the front of the store. "Italy, here is your pieta that you ordered two and a half weeks ago." England said, taking the tarp off.
Italy gasped as he saw it and practically jumped on the blonde. "It's beautiful! Grazie! Thank you England!" he said.
The statue was made of the purest white marble that could be found in that part of the world. It was a work of art that depicted the Virgin Mary (which looked suspiciously like Italy) looking mournfully at a plate of half-eaten pasta in his/her hands. The pasta was so painstakingly sculpted that it looked good enough to eat. The stone had cost him four thousand pounds, and he had sold it for a mere two thousand.
"Oh... bloody hell. It was nothing..." England said, blushing.
"But it is! You were given a gift by the gods! You are very talented!" Italy said, his eyes brimming in tears of admiration.
England looked taken aback. "A gift.... from the gods?"
"Yes! It must be! Ve, I must be going. Romano wants me back by five or he will eat all the pasta without me." Italy said, wheeling the piet out the door. "Ciao!"
"Yeah... Bye." England said awkwardly. He sighed and headed back to the studio to continue on the project he'd been working on for ten years. After a few hours, England looked up to see the sky growing dark. He stretched his arms and yawned, straightening up from his obsessive work on the statue's feet. He took off his apron and dusted it before setting it down on the table. He wiped the sweat from his face and took off his gloves, placing them by the apron. He walked out of the building and locked the front door behind him.
He decided to go out for a drink before going to his small apartment by the square.
He pushed open the door and sat down at the counter.
"Hey dude, what's the haps?" the bartender asked, wiping a glass.
"Ah... Not much. Just an average day of work. Marble busts and stuff." England said, putting a few banknotes on the counter. "A pint of ale, please."
"So..." the bartender said, pouring England his drink. "You seem down. And don't tell me it's nothing, because then I'll just ask you over and over until your ears bleed." He passed the Briton his drink.
"Well, I'm lonely. That's all it is, America. No need to nag about it or make fun of me." England said, staring moodily into his drink. He took a small sip.
"What? There are no chicks that want you to go out with a talented dude like you?" America asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
"America, I thought I told you my preferences already. I like men, not women." England said shortly.
"Oh yeah, I remember something like that. I can't believe you remember that. You were crying your eyes out and were dead drunk." America said, scratching his chin. There was a pause. "So, Italy came in earlier. He was showing everyone a picture of that awesome pieta you sculpted on his iPhone. It was pretty cool, though I think if you did a McDonald's Happy Meal instead of the pasta, it would be even awesomer."
"I'll keep that in mind." England said dryly. "Also, the correct way to phrase that is 'more awesome', not 'awesomer'."
"You know, you could always visit the Temple of France and ask him for a hot date. Just leave a bottle of Chardonnay for the dude and he'll answer any prayer you ask him."
"I'll keep that in mind." England said stiffly. He drained his glass and dropped a few coins on the table. "I'll see you around, America." he said, heading out the door.
"Sure thing, man." America said, wiping another glass.
England headed home to his apartment and fell on his bed, too tired to change. He fell asleep as soon as he hit the mattress. Somewhere up above on Mount Olympus, Austria (the God of the Sun, Music, and Prophecy) crashed down on his throne in the Hall of the Gods.
"Damn it. I'm beat." Austria said.
"Is it really too hard to fly around in that chick magnet all day? Maybe you should just give me the reins for a bit." Prussia (God of Wine and Drunkenness) said, tipping his green laurels so that they were a bit crooked on his silver-haired head.
"Maybe. If I want you to scorch the earth. Besides, Germany already shot my son down for trying." Austria said, looking at Germany (The God of the Sky and Lightning) bitterly.
"Well, he was trying to burn the earth." Estonia (God of Strategy and Knowledge) said, typing on his laptop. "I would have done the same."
"Have you ever tried killing someone? It's fun, da?" Russia (God of the Underworld) said, smiling.
"R-Russia? I-I thought you weren't allowed on Mount Olympus!" Estonia stammered, his face pale.
"There was an empty chair." Russia said simply.
"That's Canada's chair." Switzerland (God of War (and I don't mean the game)) said. "What did you do to him, Russia?!" He pointed his rifle at the God of Death.
"G-guys.... I'm under here...." Canada's (God of Plants and other Rubbish) muffled voice said. "A little help, eh?"
"Russia... You're sitting on Canada." China (God of Fire and the Forge) said, walking in. "Sorry, I'm late. I just made five thousand rubber duckies for this souvenir business in America."
Behind China came Japan (God of Messengers, Travelers, Thieves, and apparently Amazon Prime Shipping). "Sorry I'm late." he said, bowing to everyone in the room. "I was busy delivering five thousand rubber ducks to a souvenir business in America." he took his seat beside Austria and pulled out his phone. He suddenly set it down. "Who is making the wifi so laggy?" he asked.
"That's just Estonia. Apparently, his very presence slows it down." Prussia said, smirking at the God of Knowledge. "If you want good wifi, switch to the Grape Plan. I hear it's really 'grape' because it was made by the awesome me."
"I didn't know you were the God of Wifi!" Sealand (God of the.... Sea) said. "If you can claim being the God of Wifi, does that mean I can be God of all Gods?"
"I though that was already Germany's title." Ukraine (Goddess of the Family) said, her boobs causing a 'boing' to echo around the throne room.
"It should be Russia's. He's the most powerful." Belarus (Goddess of the Hunt and the Moon) said.
"You just want to marry him, that's why you're saying that. Personally, I think I should be. I could drive you all insane. I'm the God of Madness." Prussia said, throwing his hands in the air.
"You already drive us all insane." Liechtenstein (Goddess of the Hearth and Home) said softly from the fireplace in the centre of the room.
"Damn right! Watch!" Prussia said.
"No..." Austria said, plugging his ears. "I foresee a bad song coming up..."
Prussia took a deep breath. "I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves. I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, and this is how it goes... I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves. I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, and this is how it goes... I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves. I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, and this is how it goes... I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves. I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, and this is how it goes... I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves. I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, and this is how it goes... I know a-"
"SHUT UP!" Germany yelled, his voice echoing through the hall. He sent a lightning bolt straight at Prussia, who only blocked it just in time with a wall of grapevines. "I swore when I became King of the Gods that I would keep order! I will keep order in my house, and that means I will not take schiess from any god, not even my own son!" he bellowed.
"Actually, I'm your brother." Prussia said. "But if you want to go on a technicality involving you doing hanky-panky with a mortal, accidentally incinerating her, then growing me in your calf... Then I'm you son, and you're my momma."
"Let's not go into the technicalities of our family history..." Liechtenstein said from the hearth.
"Agreed." Switzerland said.
France (God of Love and other Pbbbtibbblllt) sauntered into the room, flipping his hair and winking at some of the minor gods and goddesses that stood by the door.
"What's got you so puffed up?" Austria asked, an amused look on his face.
"As you all know, tomorrow Cyprus is holding a festival to honour moi! My temple in Nicosia is already pretty decked out in roses, pearls, and lettuce!" France said, winking at Seychelles (one of the Charities). Seychelles ran out of the room, her red face hidden in her skirt.
"Oh. Good for you." Estonia said, going back to his blog.
"Sounds nice. No one ever gives me festivals." Russia said smiling.
"Who would want to? You're the God of Death!" Switzerland said.
"I would just love to see someone walk up to his temple with a plate of pomegranates. He'd throw them in the altar and be like, 'Yo Russia! I want you to kill someone. Oh thanks in advance! Byyyyyeeeeee.'" Prussia said, uncapping a bottle of red wine. He chugged it, not even bothering to use a cup. "If you held a festival, it'd look more like a funeral." he burped.
"Anyways... Enough about Russia. I overheard my name in a conversation among two mortals." France said, sitting in his plush pink chair. A dove came to rest on his shoulder. "England wants a date, and America is trying to convince him to come see me at my temple." the blonde said, tossing a few Valentine's Day chocolates in his mouth. "I'm interested to see if he actually will, or if he has turned his back on me. He used to come to my temple all the time."
"Why would you care about two mortals?" Austria asked, restringing his bow.
"There's something special about that England. He is a very skilled craftsman, and he's been working on a project for about ten years. I have yet to see it, but I can hear him singing to himself. There are only so many times that you can sing 'Rewrite the Stars'. I have a feeling that whatever he's working on if by far the greatest sculpture ever made. We had a man on the ground, but he is yet to return." France said, sniffing a rose delicately.
Suddenly, the doors to the Hall of the Gods burst open to reveal Italy (Cup-bearer to the Gods), who was running in, tired from his climb up Mount Olympus.
"Ve! Germany! I'm back..." he said, gasping for air.
"Italy, where were you?" Germany asked sternly. "I was looking for you for awhile now."
"France sent me... to spy... to spy on England! He's making a statue of a person.... That's all I know." Italy said, before flopping on the ground, fast asleep.
Germany turned on France, who was trying his best to be invisible. However, he did not have Russia's Helm of Darkness and couldn't disappear into the shadows.
"France! Why did you send him out on one of your errands? Couldn't you send Seychelles or Canada?!"
"Why me?" Canada said softly.
"You're the least important at the moment!" Germany snapped, before redirecting his fury to France.
"Well, I could send Seychelles, but she can't walk five feet without tripping over her sandals. Canada is too weak. He probably couldn't walk through Nicosia without being run over by a car or torn apart by rabid chipmunks!" France said. "Besides, Italy is fast, flighty, and expendable! He's not a god of anything, and is only here because you kidnapped him because you thought he was.... belle."
"I thought we weren't going to talk about family matters." Sealand said, twirling the trident in his hand. There were marshmallows on the points, probably in an attempt to keep Sealand from accidentally hurting himself.
"I agree with Sealand. For once." Belarus said flatly. She polished her silver bow, her two favourite hunting dogs named Ebony and Ivory stood on either side of her chair like sentinels. "It's too complex for anyone's brain to wrap around. The only thing we really know for certain is that Germany chopped up Germania into little bits and threw him into Tartarus and made Gondwana hold up the sky. Also, I heard through the grapevine that Prussia keeps a tab on every single on of Germany's flings with mortals/nymphs/dryads/titans/gods/and the occasional cow."
Germany looked across the room at Prussia. "Is this true?" he asked, his eyes flashing dangerously.
"If it was, I would not tell a soul, West." Prussia said.
England woke to the sound of thunder overhead. "Germany must be angry again." he said, looking through the window of his flat. He had a clear view of Mount Olympus, and the sky swirled darkly overhead. He sighed and got out of bed, scratching the back of his head with his right hand. He walked into the bathroom and took a shower, letting the warm water cascade down his back. He sighed and started to lather himself with the soap.
He walked out of the shower five minutes later, drying his hair with a towel. England yawned. Today was the Festival of France. That meant that most businesses were closed, and most people in Cyprus would be travelling to Nicosia to pay their respects to the God of Love.
England put on a simple white t-shirt and jeans with a pair of red converse. He wasn't much of a fan of Festivals and he really wasn't in the mood to brave the crowd that led to the temple. However, America's words echoed in his mind.
"You know, you could always visit the Temple of France and ask him for a hot date. Just leave a bottle of Chardonnay for the dude and he'll answer any prayer you ask him."
England went to his fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine he'd been saving for a special occasion. He had just finished tying a bow around it before common sense slapped him in the back of the head. 'What am I doing?' He sighed. 'Just ten minutes of sheer, utterly stupid courage is all I need...' He picked up the wine bottle and headed towards the square. |
England stood at the steps of the marble temple and set down his gift. The crowds had thinned considerably, and he was the only one left in the large Temple of France. He kneeled down on two knees and looked at the statue of the God of Love and Pbbbtttt. The statue was, in England's opinion, poorly carved. He wished that the sculptor had truly known the power and majesty of the most powerful Olympian. He put his hands together and bowed his head. "Great God of Love... Eater of Lettuce and Lover of Roses and Pearls.... God of Lingerie, Yaoi, Gay Ships and Jane Austen novels... I... I ask a favour of you."
Up on Mount Olympus, France was nodding his head to each of the flattering titles that England gave him. "Yeah... Mhm!" he said, uncorking the bottle of well matured Chardonnay that England had sent him. "Go on..."
"I plead that you find me a good man to fall in love with... One that is perfect... Like the statue of you that I completed after many years of hard work. One that will make my heart pound against my ribs, and does not hate me. I wish that you would find me such a man." England said. He got to his feet slowly and walked home.
Up on Olympus, the gods were thunderstruck.
"Damn. He's gay... That's too bad." Belarus said.
"You were sworn to be a maiden forever! Maiden means kein Spa mit Sterblichen. No fun with mortals." Austria snapped.
"I know, but you can in a hole." Belarus said. The two twins hrrumphed and turned away from each other, their arms crossed.
"That statue... was of France?" Ukraine gasped, putting her hand to her mouth.
"I never knew..." Germany said. "Italy, get your arsch down to Cyprus and see if he's not lying."
"Ve! Yes sir!" Italy said, nearly spilling his jug of nectar on Switzerland by accident. "I'll go right away!"
Italy flew down to earth and disguised himself as the mortal Italy. He conjured a cart of ivory out of thin air and poked his head into England's workshop. "Ve! Ciao England!" he said, accidentally knocking over a new replica of the corgi statue on his way in.
England walked to the from of the shop, looking grouchy. "Italy, how many times do I have to tell you? Don't touch the displays unless you're prepared to pay for the damage. This is your... fifth statue, is it?"
"Ve. Yes it is... and I've come to pay for the damages..." Italy said, rocking on the balls of his feet nervously. He stepped to the side to reveal a cart of the finest ivory any sculptor could ask for. "This is ivory that I bought in Egypt." he said sheepishly.
"Italy... I never actually meant that you had to pay for the damages...." England said breathlessly. "I was just angry... that's all."
"Should I help you wheel it into the back?" Italy asked.
"Er... Well sure, I suppose." England said, scratching the back of his head. He led Italy down the corridor to the studio. "While you're back here, let me show you a statue that I've finally finished this morning. I have been working on it for many years, and I've finally completed it. Behold, my greatest work!" he said, taking the tarp off of a sculpture. "France, God of Love!"
Italy gasped, his eyes wide with awe. "So, it is true... France was right..."
"What did you say?" England asked, looking at Italy.
"Oh... Nothing." Italy said, looking down sheepishly.
"You know... Sometimes... I just wish there was a man as handsome as France. As great as France. As powerful as France." England said. The statue was so beautiful, it brought tears to his eyes. "Wait... what are you doing?" England asked, his brow furrowing.
"The statue is as naked as France." Italy said, wrapping a towel around the statue.
"Have you ever heard of nude statues?" England asked.
"Oh yes... but France prefers his modesty sometimes. But sometimes, when he is drunk, he will go up to Canada and-"
"How do you know so much about France?"
"Ve... Well... I don't know how to best say this... but I'm Germany's cup-bearer on Mount Olympus." Italy said uncomfortably.
"Bloody hell! Really?" England asked, his eyes wide open.
"Germany sent me to see if France was telling the truth about the statue... and France has been sending me to spy on your work." Italy said, his curl crinkling up in shame. "I'm sorry..."
"France.... sent you to spy on my work?" England asked, anger rising in him. "Why is he so interested in my work? What did I ever do to gain his interest?! Does he not like my sculptures?! Is that why I'm doomed to be lonely?!" England shouted, pushing Italy against the wall. "TELL ME!" he said, tears running down his face. He felt a firm hand on his shoulder.
"He did it, because he loves you." a voice said.
England turned around to see France, wearing nothing but a towel. The statue was nowhere to be seen.
"France?" England asked, frowning.
"Non. I am the statue you created. A mere echo of the true majesty of the God of Love, but I am real all the same. My name is Francis... Francis Bonnefoy..." the fake-France said, pulling England closer to him. His blue eyes showed only honesty and deep affection. "And I love you..."
Francis pressed his lips onto England's and the sculptor punched him in the face.
"****** YOU, ******! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! YOU PUT SOMETHING IN MY DRINK, DIDN'T YOU?!!!" England bellowed, seething with rage.
"Non! I would do no such thing, mon amour!" Francis said, rubbing the side of his face. "Sacr bleu! You hit really hard! My face feels like it's on fire! Ow! I think you might have broken something!"
"That's pain, you arrogant ******! What do you want?! Money?! Sex?! My virginity?!"
"None of the such! I swear!" France said, ducking as England threw a bust of William Shakespeare at him.
And thus was the start of a very long friendship and eventual love between England and Francis Bonnefoy, the towel-toting statue-man.
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