England held a strong jealousy and dislike for France.

That was no secret.

However, he admired him, his grace with women, his ability to charm his friends, influence his superiors. He may not be the strongest physically, but he was… well, he could see why the others found him appealing.

He reserved this animosity less out of reason, and more out of spite and tradition.

France had now managed to do something no one had ever done: Make Switzerland host a ball.

A ball, for Christ's sake. That man must have pulled some strings. England didn't want to know what they were.

So when the word got out, France handing out invitations after the G8 world meeting, he was the last to receive one, the first to leave, and the least excited about attending.

Oh, he'd attend for political reasons, dress up and present himself well, as he always did, but for once would it be so awful to enjoy something? To not go home… alone, perhaps?

Nothing improper, of course. He simply wanted someone to hold at night. He despised the extra space in his bed… every day the gap seemed to grow further.

He wanted to be someone else's dream. He had his share of sexual escapades in his pirating days, his share of being a servant to his countries queens, he wanted something real, something passionate- something risky, dammit. And he wasn't about to leave the ball without falling in love.

This time, he meant it.

But as he approached the building, seeing the lights and silhouettes in every window, his face slackened.

Honestly… what was he doing here?

But as suddenly as that feeling of hopelessness crept on him, he straightened his tie and tuxedo. No point in giving up what you hadn't even started yet, right?

He strutted into the grandly lite ballroom with an aura of confidence he didn't feel, but felt it crucial to exude.

He was immediately approached by America and Canada. He was quite pleased, but surprised.

"Hello, Mr. England." Canada greeted. He was always so well intended. Quite well-mannered, for being raised by the frog.

England bowed. He felt so anxious and out of place already.

America grinned and smacked England on the back.

"England! Don't be so formal. We're all here to enjoy ourselves, aren't we?"

"Git. This is a bloody ball we're attending, be a little more well-mannered like your brother, won't you?"

At this, England straightened his tie and looked around the room. All around him were dancing couples and the brass and string band belting out waltzes.

America looked hurt for a moment, then laughed nervously.

"What's the matter, Iggy? Are you feeling well?"

"Yes… I'm sorry. I need a breath of fresh air. If you'll excuse me." He forced a smile and strutted off, leaving behind the confused former brothers.

It must have been five songs before Switzerland joined him, obviously feeling the same amount of discomfort England did.

"Are you, er… enjoying the party?" Switzerland stiffened, regretting his question immediately.

"Very much so. Thank you for hosting." By now, England was already tired of the formalities. Luckily, he was saved by Switzerland's younger sister joining them. He felt it necessary to be more spirited next to the lady.

"I feel like I'll help myself to some refreshments." He stood up, bowed to Switzerland, and was shocked to Liechtenstein hold out her hand, as if expecting something.

Switzerland scolded her. "Liech, don't do such a thing. It isn't proper."

England was still baffled, so Switzerland clarified.

"My sister seems to be laboring under the delusion that you'll kiss her hand."

"Ahh…" England fidgeted. "Well, I see no harm, myself. If you'll excuse me." He bowed low enough to kiss her gloved wrist, but made the fatal mistake of looking up once he did so.

Well, she was…

She was quite lovely.

England's heart skipped a beat, and so did Liechtenstein's. She seemed unable to utter a word. England knew immediately that the center of his world seemed to change.

The both of their worlds seemed to pause, and for a fleeting instant, they noticed no one else.