"Sir, a letter has come for you." An old man said to England as he walked to the doorway to England's living room.
England looked from the cracking fireplace in front of him with slightly wide eyes. "Oh, well thank you." He said then held out his hand "Who is it from?"
"There is no name or return address on it." The old man answered then handed the pale blonde the letter.
England blinked then looked down at it. It was a very pretty envelope. It felt like it was made out of ribbon and silk. On the back, there were very neatly written cursive letters in black that read: "To My Dearest, Arthur Kirkland' and instead of a dot above the 'I', there was a heart. Even when the beautiful envelope was a good distance from his face, the pale blonde could smell a sweet fragrance of honey and roses coming off it. He gently ran his fingers over the neat letters then turned it over. Where the envelope was sealed, there was a golden stamp and in the middle was a little heart with wings. He stared at it a long moment then looked up at the old man.
"Thank you very much. You may go." He said.
The old man bowed then turned and left the room.
England looked back at the envelope and turned it over once more to look over the letters. They were so neat and so beautiful… he didn't know anyone that wrote like this. It was done gracefully and skillfully with an ink brush to give the top of the 'T', 'Y', and 'K' a whisk affect to them. After letting his eyes scan the letters, he turned it over and carefully slipped his middle finger under the seal. He pushed up and gently undid the golden stamp. Once down, he opened the envelope to see that the inside was a shimmering gold. Slowly, he slid out the paper inside.
Now just the neatly folded paper itself was beautiful. It seemed to be hand weaved with many slow hours of heartwarming care. It was also like silk and the edges were edged with a white lining, imprinted with fairies and unicorns. He smiled a bit at the lining and ran his fingers over it. "This was handmade… all of it was." He said then gently lifted the top of the letter and began to read…
"Dear Juliet," it started, puzzling him. He picked up the envelope and looked at the back of it again, to make sure that it was to him and not someone else. Indeed, that was his name written with love. He stared at it then placed it back on the seat beside him on the sofa. He looked back at the letter in his hand and began to read again…
I've taken a step back, and realized something beautifully incredible, if you would care to lend me your ear.
Have you watched the fireflies dance, and seen the Heaven cry on your shoulder? Did you lay with me to watch the stars perform their ballet in the velvet skies, then sleep by my side with the care that no being has ever laid eyes on before? Do you remember smiling, and perhaps a bit of laughter? Add a dash of excitement, and you get something that can't be wrapped up in a box and something more beautiful than the Great Lakes in America, or the last glimpse of sun light over the Antarctic tundra."
England's eyes widened slightly as he reread what he just read. It was so beautiful and so well thought, it was almost like he was in one of the many fairytales he had rested his eyes upon before. His chest tingled with anticipation as he moved the letter up to see it clearer and continued to read…
"Oh Juliet, how earth and water is so unkind… I put my hand out towards you but they insist that we do not touch. Perhaps the Earth is envious of you beauty, and the water wishes to be as graceful as you. They try to steal it from you, haven't you seen? But do not worry Juliet, I will not let them touch your soul."
The British man soon found his heart skipping and beating with excitement and fluttering with grace. His cheeks tingled under his eyes at the sweetness of the words on the page. "Oooh…" he whispered. It was all he could manage. He was having a hard enough time controlling himself and keeping his composer. He continued slowly, taking in everything the letter had to offer…
"There is so much I want to offer you… but none of it would be good enough to bask in your beauty; not a ring or roses, not even my own soul.
I've taken a step back, to notice something beautifully incredible, have you figured what it is yet? Perhaps not… let me give you a couple more hints, and hope that you guess correctly. Be warned my sweet… you only get one guess.
Every time I gave into your eyes, it seems that I get lost in their beauty. They shine with pride, but twinkle with sheepishness. When you blush and look away… oh how your make my heart melt to the ground. My knees begin to shake, and my lips quiver with the dreams of having the privilege of touching yours. Here's a hint, in hopes that you see that I am your Romeo… as I listen to my heart sing in my ears, my hand runs up through my hair in attempt to quench the lust of running gently up through yours."
England stopped and looked up. "Runs his hand up through his hair… who does that?" he looked down as he thought. "There's France and Russia… China twiddles with the tips of his hair… Um… it can't be Poland nor Finland. America and Canada do that a lot too… Oh, this doesn't help much…" he looked back at the letter, in hopes that he would learn more…
"Oh dear sweet Juliet… would you let me hold your hand when you saw that it was me? Would you let me caress your cheeks in a gently way, then capture your lips in a rush of our hearts finally being able to entwine?
Promise me that our past will not affect the future. Do not let the whispers of the Alliance tickle your ears with their harsh words. I will always be there to protect you from their shuns and disapprovals.
I pray and hope, that you and I shall never fight. Those wars we share were something I wish we did not have to give. I'll kiss your wounds, I'll kiss your tears… just please do not weep over the past. Let our love be a seed that will grow into something strong and beautiful.
Because when you hurt, and you look into my seas of blue, they no longer shine at rest. They turn into a storm that is completely unforgivable."
England stopped "Sea of blue…" he tilted his head in thought "What does he mean?" he reread the sentence "Look into my Sea of Blue…" he paused then his eyes widened "Oh! His eyes! His eyes are the sea of blue! So this person has blue eyes!" he smiled, feeling a bit proud of himself that he discovered something else about the romantic person that was writing to him. He continued to read on…
"I hope that this letter is making you smile. You know, you do have a pretty one. I never seem to see it anymore… why is that? If you smiled at the world, then there would be no more wars, no more fighting or stealing… Shh… listen… Listen Juliet… listen… can you hear it Juliet? Tell me… what is it? I haven't heard something like this before… Can you guess as to what it is? Go on, guess. This is written down a paper I made just for you, so it's not going to go anywhere."
England blinked. It was like whoever wrote this knew him so well as to not say anything and to continue reading. He read over the paragraph then sat in silence. His eyes widen slightly "Silence. There's nothing there. It's just… the silence… Nothing is going on so the answer has to be… peace." he said then looked down at the paper…
"Mmm… it's quiet, isn't it Juliet? Nothing is stirring about… you perhaps have the fire lit, so there's the crackle of its whispers… nothing right? Peace. Peace is what your smile could bring to his world. I know that when these seas of blue are storming, and the gently kiss of your smile gleams upon them, everything soon becomes calm.
Now lend me your eyes, to read along these lines. Give me your attention and listen to my voice. Let me hold your hand and brush it up through my golden locks. Allow me to hold you close to my chest so that my soft orchestra in my chest rock you to sleep and I will wrap my smooth luster jacket around us. Take my eyes and set them down, but do it gently, for they may reflect, but I cannot see very far without them.
I've taken a step back, and realized something beautifully incredible… perhaps you have raised it too. I want to see your reactions, I want to feel your smile.
Won't you meet me, Juliet? How should we do it? Should we should we build a bridge to each other, or swim the seven seas? Would you care for a friendly 'Hello, my Juliet', or would you like me to whisper it softly into your ears are I wrap my arms around your in a loving and romantic manner?"
England had begun to space as thoughts of the beautiful man formed in his head. "Oh romantic…" he whispered without a thought.
"Of course you deserve a romantic greeting. I would not give you anything less. I want you to agree to meet me, to allow me to kiss you, even if it's just once across the cheek. Don't you agree?
I have a special place for you and I, if you care to see. Meet me there with this letter of dreams, so that I know you have received it. The place where a small park bench rests and where all the stars seem to gather will be where you and I shall lock eyes. Hope your father has not given you a curfew, sweet Juliet, because the time is nine o'clock in the evening tonight. Bring a jacket, I do not want you getting ill.
If you do not wish to meet me… then toss this letter into the fire so that the smoke will turn red. I will see it and know, that you do not wish to return my burning feelings.
-With all the Love in my Being,
England stared dreamily at the letter but he was soon knocked out of his trance by the grandfather clock making his presents known. His eyes widened and he looked at it. It read eight o'clock. "Oh!" he shouted "It's almost nine!" he just jumped up but stopped, he picked up the letter and folded it neatly again. He placed it back into the beautiful envelope and sealed it once more.
He held it up to look at it "I'm not quite sure as to who this person is, but he does sound like Romeo." He said then hurried off to get ready.
England shivered as he sat on the park bench that the other had talked about and let his imagination wonder. He pondered as to who the romantic person could be. He had ruled out anyone without blue eyes and blonde hair. There were a couple people left, but he couldn't figure out which one was his Romeo.
Then suddenly, someone's hands cupped over his eyes, making him gasp and grab them.
"Relax…" he heard someone whisper into his ear, making him shiver. "Hello, my dear sweet Juliet."
England sat there a moment. He knew that voice. He heard it so many times before. It seemed that there wasn't one day that he hadn't heard this person speak. He was puzzled before as to what the riddles of earth and water, and the other beautiful things in the letter were about, but once he heard the other speak, and held his soft cold hands over his eyes, he understood…
"Tell me Juliet…" the person whispered "Can you tell me who I am? You only get one chance, so be swift, but let caution be your friend."
England smiled, gently gripping the person's hands in his. "I had no idea that you could write so beautifully," he took off the hands from his eyes and turned around to smile up at the other "Alfred."
America smiled "I lived with you for god knows how many years and I used to read the love letters France sent to you before you burned them too, so I guess I picked up a few things. So I take it you understood the letter and your feelings are as strong for me as they are for you?"
England's eyelids lowered slightly "Why don't you let our lips do the talking instead of our voices." He said as he lifted his chin and pulled the other down to him.
America's eyes sparkled with happiness "Maybe I should write to you more often, though that letter took me weeks to write."
"You don't have to write me anything. Just shut up and kiss me. It's freezing outside."
America chuckled "Whatever you say, my dear sweet Juliet."