Fluffy Bordem Hetalia Shorts

(Nyo!) Bedtime Stories

"Bedtime!" Tiny America squealed as she jumped on her new bed England had gotten her, her sandy locks of hair bouncing.

The older nation laughed, sitting on the edge of the plushy bed. "Alright, love. Time to lay down. I can't believe how incredibly energetic you are. It's nearly impossible to handle."

Little America plopped down, sticking out her bottom lip and widening her bright blue eyes in a pout. "But Engwaaaaaand! I'm not tired! The Indians always told me stories to help me sleep!" She whinned, tossing her stubby arms in the air and waving around her hands. "I need bedtime stories!"

England smiled softly. "Alright. I guess I've got a few I could probably read to you."

America scrunched up her face in puzzlement. "Read?" She tested out the word. "You can read stories in the stars? Do we have to go all the way to the caves just so you could read me the stories the symbols tell?" She asked, her shoulders dropping.

"What?" England wondered, then shook her head, bending over to pick up a foreign object. "No, love. I'm going to read fairy tales from a book." She flipped the pages as the tiny girl beside her gasped and stared in wonder at the book.

"Whoa... A book? They look funny, Engwand! How do you read that funny writing!?" America exasperatedly yelped, pointing at the writing.

Laughing softly, England stopped on a page in the middle of the book. "My country developed this writing style. I could teach you to read and write, if you like. But that would have to start tomorrow." Little America nodded. "Alright, now lay down, dear."

America breathed out a soft, 'oh!', and scurried under the covers. She lay her head on the pillow and looked expectantly up at her caretaker.

England smiled, then switched her gaze to the book.

'Not too long ago, there lived a beautiful girl. She had golden hair and fair skin. However, she worked on a farm so her hair was more like a rats nest, and her skin looked diseased, for she only bathed once a month. She-'

"I only take a bath once a moon. What's wrong with that?"

England sighed at the interruption and glanced at the girl. "In England, we like to keep clean, dear. Your people here don't seem to know the first thing about cleanliness. And it's month,not moon. Now let me read your story." America nodded, lifting the blanket over her mouth, allowing the Brit to read.

'She took care of the animals and gardens for her mother worked as a seamstress in town and her father was usually gone on trips, selling, trading, so they could keep the farm, and their family together.

All the other girls in town had more money, cleansed themselves every day and wore silks and fine fabrics, especially the Deputy's and Governor's daughters. They wore the finest fabrics and silks and much jewelry and had everything they wanted. The girl on the farm, Rosary, had all she wanted already. Loving parents and a beautiful home, even if all she had to wear was rags.

One day, while Rosary had gone to town to buy spices for meals and seeds to plant, the king had brought his eldest son to that town, searching for him a formidable bride to be the next queen. The prince, however, didn't want to be married to royalty if it wasn't a loving, or at least, a happy marriage. A-'

"What's a prince? I've heard of kings, but what's a prince?"

Sighing again, England closed her eyes. "A prince is the son of a king and the ruler after the king passes on."