This story takes place about 2 centuries into the future and there are a number of genderbent nations including England. There's not going to be too much focus on the future aside from a more diplomatic political reality.
It had been decades since the last serious war. All imperialism and empires were merely memories, and pages in history books. America was the nation to start the fad of sorts. The economic disputes between America and China had disappeared, and with the establishment of a new more democratic government in the eastern nation, the countries had grown close in nearly every way. They created an alliance that was even closer than the special relationship America had with England and the UK. This, for the personifications, was marriage. America had been the one to propose despite being a woman. Now, all citizens were expecting their countries to pair off, and were even holding votes or opinion polls to see which country to pair with.
Curiously enough, the pairings the polls predicted all agreed with the current state of relationships between personifications that the citizens had no idea of. The feminine, shy, and sweet Canada had married the boisterous, adventurous Australia. Carefree, cheerful Spain married the spiteful temptress known as the southern personification of Italy. Her much more lighthearted sister married the stern and organized personification of Germany. The adorable, quiet Liechtenstein, and the slightly awkward, but handsome Luxembourg had married with Switzerland's blessing. Most of the countries had married, and England had attended near every wedding. Still, she lived alone, and her citizen's never chose a clear leader in the public opinion polls.
She heard a knock on her door. She opened her front door to find Russia standing on the other side of her door. He looked much more calm than usual as his creepy smile was missing. "May I come in?" he asked.
She nodded, not expecting the politeness he presented her with. She stepped aside, and he entered her home, ducking automatically on the way in. She closed her door, and guided him into her living room.
"Take any seat you'd like, would you like anything to eat or drink?" she asked, acting as the best hostess she could.
"No, that's fine. I would just like it if you would sit and talk with me," he answered, taking a seat on her couch, making sure to keep his long legs tucked in close.
"Very well," she took the armchair across from the couch.
"I have a proposition for you," he said. His voice lacked any signs of nervousness. Whatever he was asking could not be too outrageous then.
"Your proposition is?" she asked, tilting her head.
"I would very much like to marry you," Russia answered.
England couldn't help it, and burst out chortling. His proposition was too strange and inconceivable to be serious. "Come now, you must be joking," she said, shaking her head at the absurdity.
"I am absolutely serious. With each passing day, my sister gets closer to marrying me, and I do not wish for that to happen," he answered, his tone grave.
"I do not understand, why me?" she asked, leaning forward, interested in his response.
"Out of those still available, you fear me least. I believe that if we were to live together, even if we never fell in love, we could still be happy. I intend to allow you any conditions you wish to place on the marriage," he replied.
England was quite shocked by the admission, and that he intended to make it as convenient for her as possible. She quickly considered her options. Her options for suitors were dwindling down, and many were totally undesirable. Russia himself was not entirely terrible. They had been allies before, and it had not been completely disastrous. With the conditions she could place, it could be a relationship not too different from that. It would be a marriage in name only, but she could live with that. Maybe then she wouldn't feel so alone.
"I accept your proposal, and I want our bosses to be involved in setting the conditions. We can set our rules and ensure that both parties find them fair," she answered, looking him straight in the eye as she did so.
He gave her a genuine smile without a hint of madness in it, "Excellent, the meeting will be next week."
"Is there anything else you would like to discuss?" she asked.
"No," he answered honestly, his smile fading some.
England's eyebrows rose of their own accord, "You came all this way to visit me just to propose?"
Russia cocked his head to the side, "Is that not what most men do?"
It almost sounded cheeky. She couldn't help it when a small smile tugged at her lips. She felt embarrassed, realizing that he was right, and quickly ran her fingers through her loose hair. "It is," she conceded, "but not most nations."
Russia leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on top of his knees. "Truthfully," he began, clasping his hands and not directly looking at her, "I did not expect you to agree so quickly."
"Really?"
He was amused by her response, and was once again facing her. "No, you are most obstinate to men," he shrugged.
"If you mean France then yes," she answered, nodding once.
Russia actually chuckled at that. She was mostly surprised that he was chuckling at all. Just like his smile, however, it didn't have its usual sinister aura. He was laughing at something he found amusing that did not any way benefit him, or hurt someone else. It was deep and didn't last for long, but England decided she wouldn't mind hearing it again.
She looked at Russia, really looked at him this time. He was tall and broad with light hair, skin, and eyes. His nose was sloped, and just slightly off of being straight, and though large, suited his face and physique. His lips, though decently plump, were perfectly masculine and just the right distance beneath his nose. His cheekbones, though not as high as her own, were apparent enough, and his cheeks smooth and naturally pinkish. His eyes were surrounded by thick eyelashes, and his eyebrows were darker than his hair of medium length with a bit of wave to it. He was, quite oddly, perfectly comfortable in her presence and as she stared at him. He had a pretty face, and she was doing her best to try and see beneath it. He gave her a questioning glance as she did this, but she ignored it.
"Do you really think we could fall in love?"
He took a deep breath in before answering, "I wouldn't say so if I didn't think it."
"That's not true," England answered, and the moment after hoping it hadn't been as snappish as it sounded to her own ears.
"These are different matters," Russia argued, frowning slightly, "We say what we have to in politics."
"How is this not politics?" she asked, raising a brow. They were nations, everything they did was politics. Unless, she reminded herself, one goes about breaking their own laws.
"Because Russia is not proposing to England," he answered, deadpan, "I am proposing to you."
It clicked for her in that moment. He was telling the truth, he was asking for her hand because he wanted to marry her out of all the others. She was suddenly much happier that she had accepted his proposal. His government wasn't asking him to marry her, and her government had done nothing by ways of marriage. The reason all the other nations had begun to marry suddenly made sense. In that moment, she believed that maybe they could fall in love.
Russia checked his wristwatch. He then stood, "I'm sorry, but I must be going."
"It's fine," she said, rising smoothly from her chair, "I'll walk you to the door."
He followed her back to the wooden door he had entered through. She pulled open the door for him. He smiled at her for one last time before exiting onto the street. She smiled at his back before shutting the door.
That night, a new opinion poll was published in the paper. England's interest was piqued when she noticed that one line rose high above the others in the graph. The label read 'Russia'. She felt a little heat rise to her cheeks at the sight of his name, and it felt like her stomach had decided to board a ship. She read the paragraph beneath the graph. The writer twittered on about how there was no explanation for the sudden interest in partnering with Russia, and England didn't bother reading after that.
Their meeting went smoothly. It was decided that England and Russia would live together year round. From the spring equinox to the fall equinox they would live in Russia's house, and the other half of the year would be spent in England. This decision was almost solely based on weather. Under certain circumstances they were allowed to live apart for the sake of being able to properly conduct business in their own countries. Complete fidelity was expected from both personifications. Absolutely no abuse or spousal rape was to be tolerated, and problems were to be discussed as calmly as possible.
There were a few other little extra rules for just in case, but their bosses only added one condition. They were to sleep in the same bed. Neither England nor Russia could pry the reason from their bosses' lips. At the end of the meeting, after the signing of the legally binding document, England was surprised with Russia getting down on one knee, and presenting her with a ring. Celebrations occurred in both nations that night.
I've been fiddling around with want I want to do with this story for a while so there's not going to be a lot of Author's Notes for a while. Just the same, it would be nice if you could review as much as you can!