Christmas Morning

It was still early in the morning and England's Christmas was already not going to plan. At some point during the night, whilst she had been in the bathroom, someone had delivered a bouquet of roses to her room.

Puzzled she had glanced at the accompanying letter to see who they were from; shocked to France's name she had been too stunned to read the letter properly and instead spent the night trying to decipher her message from the flowers.

White roses; symbol of House York and of purity and new beginnings.

Red roses; symbol of House Lancaster and of unconditional love.

And finally, roses that were both red and white, the Tudor Rose; symbol of England, unity and togetherness.

The thought of what France might be trying to tell her made England's heart feel the first real hope it had felt in a long time. Finally as dawn started to break she dared to look at the letter.

'My Beloved England,

These past few months I have found it difficult to speak with you so I am writing you this letter in the hope that you will listen to what I have to say. Please in the spirit of Christmas please don't ignore this.

I have thought of many ways to tell you this since we first met and now I can only think that the best way is to put it simply. J'taime, I love you. And just so you cannot still say you don't understand I have found a poem by one of your people to show you how I feel:

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?—

See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?

I miss you deeply my love, I don't know what I did to drive you away but I am truly sorry for it. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me and at least be my friend again, I cant stand not to have you by my side any longer.

Finally, my beloved, this year for Christmas the roses were only part of your gift, the other is is my heart, please take care of it.

Forever Yours

Belle Bonnefoy.'

England released a breath she didn't even know she had been holding, France loved her, everything that people had been telling her was true. What ever she had seen with the other Nation must have been a mistake. And with that thought England was hit with a wave of guilt. All the misery they had both felt over the last few months was her fault and there was no reason for it.

But now she had a chance to make things right, all she had to do was take it.

Quickly she made her way over to France's room. Once she reached the door she knocked immediately before she could lose her nerve.

"Angleterre?" When France opened the door England suddenly found she couldn't look the other girl in the eye.

"I got your present." She murmured.

"I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable," France whispered, "But I needed you to know how I feel."Eventually England summoned up the courage to properly look at France; she finally saw how thin the other Nation was, how unhealthy she had become. The glint in her eye, that before had hinted to England the promise if gentle teasing and playful arguments, had gone and it was all her fault.

The thought broke England's heart.

Gently she took France in firm embrace; holding her tight and trying to make up for all their time apart.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she whispered. "It was all my fault, I made a mistake and was so focused on my own broken heart that I couldn't see I was hurting you as well."

Loosening her embrace England took a small step back, not quite releasing France but enough s she could look at her properly. Only to see the other Nation had tears running down her face. Leaning over England gave her a quick peck on the lips.

"Can you ever forgive my stupidity?" She asked, smiling France gave her a quick kiss back.

"In a heartbeat ma cherie." England never would've thought that such simple words could make her feel so happy, but when France said them they made her heart soar.

Soon, though, the moment was gone as France yawned.

"Perhaps we should go back to bed for a bit, it is still only the crack of dawn." England suggested.

"Oui, and later we should have lunch together." France replied as she led the way into her room. Soon both were dozing together, the most restful either had been for some time; both content to sleep the day away in the other's arms.

And they would if they weren't woken by an excited America a just few hours later.

In case anyone wishes to know the poem used is Love's Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley.