( Updated 11/20/21 )

Britian groaned. It was day again. He had fallen asleep trying to figure out what to do about his father. He didnt want it to be another day. He didnt want to get married. He didnt want to be here. He was a human being with imperfections and emotions, why couldn't his father understand that? Wincing at the bright sun coming from outside the curtains he stared at the blank grey room. It was boring, no real flair or indacator he lived there. Just cookie cutter, sheets, walls and creepy pictures on the walls. Tiredly standing up, Britain brushed himself off wandering across catching a glimpse of the only thing in the entire room he truly enjoyed.

Gently he picked up a case in the corner of his room, placing it on his bed and opening it, to reveal his violin. It was a shiny glazed wood, small tapes lined the top, and bright reflection bounced off of it. Britian loved music. It was beautiful. Some nights he would hear music from the town square, and the joyus laughter of the townsfolk.

Music had just always called to him in a way. The first times he tried to gain in instrument his question was shot down on scene. His parents didn't want him being to loud or having to pay for it. Like they didn't have enough money.

After a lot of begging, his mother gave in and he got his violin.

At first he was absolutely horrible at the instrument and would get scowled for playing it. But after hour and hours of practice it's deep sound and beautiful chord was finally excepted.

It was strange to the Brit but it always helped him overcome negative thoughts that plagued his mind. Picking up the bow he slowly started to play a melody he had recently been learning.

He wanted to be free. He had seen how citizens lived, able to choose what they study, what they say, how they act. It was a life he dreamed of.

He wanted to be a musician, he could play a variety of instruments. He found such solace in the beauty of music. Everytime he would dream the real world always pulled him back.

Britain hummed the tune, helping him play the right notes. No one had bothered his since yesterday, not even the maids. His parents must have told them not to. In a sense he didn't mind. That thought was quickly shot of the air when a loud knock startled the country from his thoughts.

He didn't care how much trouble he was in, he wasn't going to listen to his father ramble on and on like an idiot. He was to royal for that.

" What do you want. " He yelled coldly waiting for a angry response. But there wasn't one, instead the voice of Edmund the houses trusted butler spoke up.

"The United Kingdom, Her Majesty Princess France, daughter of the Kingdom and Empire of France has arrived, she is in the ballroom "

Britain almost choked on the air. He wasn't expecting them to be so soon! Panicking he threw the violin on his bed and unlocked the door, grabbing Edamund's suit and pulling him into the room.

The Butler was not entirely expecting such a quick action and let out a little yell, stumbling into the princes room.

Britain clicked the door lock once more and peered over to the Butler in his room.

" What the hell am I supposed to do? I've meet princess and other women before but nothing like this?! If I step out of line my father will have my head for this " he saught advice from the shorter male. Edamund stood tall and blinked a few times, but quickly dusted off his suit and looked towards the royal.

" May I suggest you start out slow. Forien relationships take time, I'd you rush in everything will crumble. I also suggest you use your highest of manners, and please sir, change your suit " he pointed to the extremely wrinkled suit Britain hod slept in.

The country nervously laughed, standing away from the door. " Thank you. " He said dryly as the Butler left the room.

He quickly went to work, half destroying his wardrobe in the process. Once everything was in line and hopefully good enough for his father the prince stared on the short mirror on the wall

He looked like death with makeup on. No amount of charm he had could cover up the discussed and tire undertones on his dark purple eyes.

But he quite literally had no other choice than to obey. He would be stuck in this castle forever and ever.

Quickly remembering he put his instrument away, them started out into the hallway. He watched the serverents bow to him than continue on with their jobs in the house. A few new people most likely slaves or maids, wandered down the halls in puffy white dresses, carrying suitcases or stacks of books. Then almost looked more royal than his family. But he expected no less from the king of the French.

Wandering upon the large wooden door his eyes were meet with a familiar sight. There stood all four of his older siblings each one trying to peak Into the ballroom.

Ireland and Scotland were in fancy tacked up suits, their hair slicked back. The only thing telling toe two apart other than their flags was the small clover that hung front Ireland's breast pocket.

The Brit rolled his eyes. They were all so nosey with everything. He never expect being the youngest child would include keeping everyone out of trouble.

Tapping his foot on the ground the price spoke up. " What are you four doing here. Shouldn't you be somewhere else " everyone quickly turned around.

" Says who " Wales let out a 'humph'. Scotland chuckled at her child like tendencies, and glanced back to Britain. " o' coorse we hae something tae dae. Bit that's nae aff tae stoap us fae seeing yer wife~ " he teased.

" Yeah I think we deserve to watch, seeing that your inheriting the whole crown. Not to mention the first one being wed out of us four. I still don't think it's fair. " Ireland peered back through the door. The terrible two burst out into laughter at her words.

" yeah, i'm to, ' energetic and unattractive ' fahr a prencess " he made finger quotes.

"Count me in! a'm to,' loud 'n' boysterous ' fur da's liking " the slight blue country practically weezed. Britain didn't find any humor in the situation.

" First off quiet down. You two sound like monkeys, I don't need father yelling at me even more. Secondly, how is it my fault I got chosen for marriage? It's not like I wanted it at all. " He crossed his arms.

Ireland made a raspberry. " yooehr startin to sooehnd like de ahld man brahther. lighten oehp'll ya" he playfully ruffled his younger brothers hair. Britain quickly smacked his hand away.

" I don't want to get married. Cant you just tell them I'm sick or too stupid to rule an empire. " He threw his hands in the air.

Northern sighed and Wales shook her head. " It doesn't work like that little brother. I know I might not seem fun but think, there has to be some good things " the female smiled.

" Lik' yer lass.you git a guid yin" Scotland whistled, once again sneaking a glance through the door. " Hey!" Britain half yelped, pushing his brother aside.

" See you're already prahtective o' what's yooehrs, get ooeht dere and make oehs prooehd " Ireland fixed the Brits hair before shoving him past the door. Slightly dazed, the youngest child stumbled up before feeling his father's glare on him. Quickly perking up, his eyes were blessed with a beautiful figure, he wanted to deny any feelings he may have just caught but it would be useless. She was unlike anyone he had ever seen.

His father stared at him as the two men talked quietly. Britain looked at the Kingdom or France. He was rather tall and skinny, his brown hair perfectly combed back. The fancy clothes and military pins he wore, showcased his power and status in the world. The Empire spoke with a sharp accent, switching in-between English and his native tongue. Britain had never seen such a distinguishing person in all his life.

Standing shortly under the Kingdom stood a beautiful woman, her face twisted in a resentful scowl. She was unlike her father, short and petite. Her white hair ran like a waterfall to her shoulders, strands of red and white poking out. She wore a large ball gown, golden and silver flowers delicately sewen to the bottom.

The prince gulped.

He watched as the men in the room stopped talking and looked at Britain. The French man was curiously watching him while his father's glare kept the Brit in line. " Hello " the French king shook his hand and extended a hand. Britian looked at the foiren kings bony hand, before taking it and doing what he was taught. " It's a pleasure to meet you " he said quietly.

The two started with a light chat, Britain watching his mouth at every word spoken. This king was snobby, and liked to flaunt his riches, but was valant and kind in a sense.He was amused with the balance of royal, and civilian. If only his father could do that.

" now zat we hahve met, I suppahse I should eentrahduce my wahrd. ziss ees frahnce my one ahbd only daughtair. she ees of ze rebellious type ahnd cahn be a beet snahppy. but I ensure you she wahn't cause ahny prahblems. "The king yanked his daughter forth, causing Britain to flinch. Who treated their children in such a way?

For a few seconds the two stared at each other. France silvery lavender eyes looked disapproving and upset at every part of Britain . He gulped, opening his mouth to speak but was cut off by the princess.

"C'est un honneur de vous rencontrer ", ( It's an honor to meet you. ) the girl growled, her eyes trying to intimate him. It was working to

" Please call me Britain " he responded, feeling the tension in the room built by the second. His brief lesson the in French language had seemed to magically disappear into thin air.She looked at him very confused and then another man they hadn't noticed told her something in her native tongue.

"D'accord Bretagne" (Okay Britain) she crossed her arms nantulantly

" May I ask what your name is? " he asked the girl who stood practically upset on front of him. the translator quickly talked to her, Britian trying to tell out the words.

" Oh que c'est impoli de ma part. Je m'appelle la France. Je suis désolé " ( Oh how rude of me . My name is France. Im sorry . ) she rolled her eyes, feeling the glare of her father hit her back.

The translator told him what she said and she just stared straight through him. Maybe looks really were deceiving he pondered.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss France" He replied, bringing his hand out.

The translator told her what she said, shaking his hand hastily. Britain took note of how small she was compared to him, her hand was barley able to grip his.

"Tout le plaisir est pour moi" (The pleasure is mine) She tapped her heeled foot on the ground, continuing to stare straight through his soul.

The Brit made a confused noise. This was not supposed to happen. So much love at first slight.

But there was still something about her that made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He could already feel his heart getting the best of him.

When France was taken to her accommodation in the palace, the prince's father looked at him with a smirk.

"So?"

"Thank you father, I guess she is...acceptable." He admitted trying not to let his father know he was falling for her, his father chuckled.

"That look on your face said more, my boy" Hid upset and military like attitude melted away, if only for a second.

"Father!" Britain blushed slightly , hiding his face in embarrassment.

His father laughed and assured him everything would be fine, but at the same time warning him.

"All lot of suitors have wanted to take her hand in marriage, you better be careful, there are men with such power and money that the Kingdom of France could change his mind, so you better sweep her off her heels" He informed.

Britain sighed, he was going to do just that! He was going to show her he was the perfect suitor. One that could always be there for her when she needed it. That he could be what she needed forever and always.