Epilogue

"The end." England announced. It didn't matter anyway, since the only person who was listening was fast asleep. England let out a sigh, not quite sure himself if it was relief that he was asleep or whether the sight was getting to him. Carefully, to not wake him up, he gathered his supplies-the book, his jacket, and half a bowl of chicken soup- and turned to leave.

"England?" A soft voice asked. America's head was just poking out from the covers. "Do you think…maybe…you could come back and read it to me tomorrow?"

England bit back a blush. "As you wish." Was all he responded with.

He only noticed the letter the next week, when he was putting the book back on the shelf.

He spend some time studying it, wondering whether he should open it or not. There weren't any marks on it, save for the Florin wax seal. It was probably over 100 years old anyway; whoever it was for wouldn't be missing it, and he couldn't exactly reply to it either. He only opened it when it became apparent that he wouldn't get any work done with it sitting on his desk like that.

England,

So by now it's probably been a couple years, if not decades, since I gave you this and you decided to read it again. By now, I'm probably long gone. Don't worry about me; I know my time's been coming since the last century. The only things I have left are a good cup of coffee, and this book. All I want from you is to remember me. And The Princess Bride. I'm not saying you should have grand celebrations in the streets like my people used to do, just make sure that something this good isn't forgotten too fast.

-Florin

England read it. And reread it. And read it again. And then he picked up The Princess Bride again.

It's not like these papers won't be there tomorrow.

September 30, 2012. 12:28 AM

Joe's Diner; America

It wasn't a very notable diner. It was just a stop on the road, with the "o" and "n" on the neon sign flickering out and just closing for the night. The only reason it was of any note at the moment was because of the patrons inside.

There were two of them, one boy and one girl. To all outsiders, they were just teens having fun. The girl, with a golden mess of hair and light eyes, was working contently on her fifth cup of coffee but her pie remained untouched. The boy, with matching dark hair and dark eyes was working on his fifth slice of pie but his coffee remained untouched.

"So did you ever keep those chapters?" The anthropomorphic personification of Guilder asked his companion.

"Of course I did!" Florin fetched a packet of papers from her satchel as if to prove her point. "Does it matter anyway? That's not the point of the story!"

"It is too. The book was supposed to be a satire on your government, wasn't it?" Guilder responded.

Florin paused to sip her coffee and roll her eyes. "Maybe that's the point of the book. But it was the point of the story. The book might be a satire, but the story is a tale of true love and high adventure."

Guilder rolled his eyes. "Says you."

The +300 year old Nation responded by sticking her tongue out at him.

Their attention was diverted when the bell for the front door rang. "Oh hey Rome!" Florin greeted. "What took you so long? Your coffee's getting cold!"

September 12, 2012. 3:38 PM

America's house; America

America sneezed. It wasn't a small, polite sneeze; rather a sneeze that shook the doors and rattled the windows. The Nation groaned as he reached for a tissue. Stupid sequester, stupid budget cuts, stupid Congress…

He sneezed again, missing the knock on the door. He didn't even notice that someone had come in until a box of Kleenex was all but shoved in his face. He traced the arm back up to its owner. He was turned away from him, but the black moss growth he called eyebrows that were knitted together in frustration were unmistakable. "You really should get your government in line, you know." England said grumpily.

America accepted the tissue. "Why, do you care about me?"

"O-of course not! But if your economy goes, we all do!" The British Nation managed to sputter, but all the same America saw a blush creeping on his cheeks.

America collapsed back on the bed.

In response, the tissue box was replaced with a loosely bound, golden and faded stack of papers. "I thought you might want to occupy yourself." England said as an explanation.

America hummed to himself as he studied it. Did the sentimental old man really still have this around? He couldn't even remember when the older Nation had read it to him…but he wanted to hear it again. He knew that much. "Only it you read it to me." England's eyes widened, and America was sure that he would be yelling if America didn't beat him to it. "Hey, I'm sick. I might get all my gross sequester germs on it."

That managed to get the once proud British Empire to deflate in defeat. "Alright, fine." He pulled up a chair, made himself as comfortable as possible, and opened up the manuscript. "The Princess Bride. By S. Morgenstern. 'Chapter one…

Author's Note: Well, that's about the end of it. I have had this story on me for nearly four years now. If you've stayed with me up until the end, thank you. I still have some plans within the Hetalia fandom, including more fusions such as this. But that will be in due time (I repeat: I have had this story on me for nearly four years). In the meantime, I'm going to celebrate. My birthday is tomorrow, and it's been a dredge just to get here. I might even pop on my favorite movie to celebrate.