France had just finished cleaning from breakfast, when he heard a knock at the door. Who was behind it, surprised him greatly.

"B-Belarus! Why don't you come on in?" The visit by the younger country greatly concerned him. Belarus was not known to leave her house, unless it was to visit Russia. She was even known to skip world meetings, though France had often sent her an invitation, making sure she knew she was very welcome.

Although he was delighted to have a visitor, her expression greatly worried him.

"Belarus...to what do I owe toys pleasure?" He was growing more and more nervous with each passing second. Something was definitely wrong.

"France. You have always been very kind to me...and I... I wanted to ask you...well..." she was so nervous she seemed as if she was reading from a script and had lost her place.

"Oh Natalya! Please do tell me what you need!" He hated seeing anyone in such pain, even England, though he'd never admit so to his rival nation, not that England would ever let him.

"Francis..."

There was a pause.

"I need advice. How do I make big bridge love me?"

"Well...I...I don't understand. Why?"

"Can you not help me?"

"Natalya..."

She did not expect such a response, and it frustrated her. "I thought you could help me. Maybe I should have gone to someone else. Maybe England can help me."

That stirred anger in him. "That thug does not know more about live than I do."

"Maybe so, but if you won't help me-"

"I'll help you"

"You will? That makes me very happy." She turned, making her way towards the door, but France stopped her.

"I am making lunch, if you would like to stop by around noon." She smiled and have a small nod. He blinked, and then, she was gone.

He began making lunch; nothing too fancy, but something nice, for his guest

In his silence, he began to wonder things:

Why did she come to me for help?

Why don't more people talk to her?

and the most important

Why does she want her brother to love her so much; why not someone else?

When he put lunch in the oven, the house became all the more silent, and he discovered how lonely the silence felt. He knew lunch would take a while longer, so he looped the key off his neck and unlocked the key to the violin. The bow danced along the strings as the melody twisted its melancholy tale. As the last cry rang out, he felt a foreign set of eyes on him. As he suspected, the intruder was none other than Belarus.

Her eyes were the slightest bit teary. "The song you played, what was it about?"

"It was about the tragedy of unrequited love."

"Love that will never be, da? Someone who will always be alone."

"Yes," he answered. She turned, and was quiet for a while.

"Natalya?"

"Yes, Francis?"

"Why do you want to marry your brother so much?" She turned, tears spilling from her eyes.

Yet, with her sobbing, her voice remained even. "It is my fault he is alone." She took a moment, her body racked with silent sobs. "If I hadn't have left, he wouldn't be alone. I made him alone. I have to keep him from being alone."

Francis marvelled at how quickly she composed herself.

"Francis, I don't know what to DO!" The anguish had moved from her body to her voice, only breaking the slightest bit. He moved to comfort her.

"Natalya, you can still help him," he patted her shoulder, "Go to him. Help him." She ran like a bird with a broken ring takes flight, tentatively, then all at once.

I wrote this to undo those misconceptions about these characters that many of us need to overcome