Dear Arthur,

I don't even know why I'm writing this. This letter will probably end up being burned in my fireplace, but I guess this will have to be enough.

I just have no idea how to say it. The first one is always the hardest.

I love you.

I think I'll be saying it a lot. Just to see if it gets any easier.

You light up my life, even when you scowl angrily or yell. I love the way your green eyes light up in fury when you yell at france for being a ' Frog '.

When you smile, my heart races and the world fades away.

I love you.

When you laugh, my stomach twists into knots.

I love you.

You don't even know that I love you and yet you make me so happy, just by being there.

I feel so unworthy compared to you.

I love you.

I feel like I'm in a fairytale and I'm the princess. But my Prince is never coming for me. Because he doesn't know his Princess exists.

I love you.

This letter will never get to you, you'll never know how much you mean to me.

Whenever I smell tea, I think of you and can't keep a silly smile off my face.

I see a rose and think, 'That's England's national flower.' I see the rose and I imagine you face, smiling and your green eyes bright and happy.

I love you.

When I lay in the soft, golden fields of my land and stare at the endless blue sky, I think of how much I wish you were sitting at my side, watching the sky with me.

I love your accent and how you call me 'love' when you see me. You have no idea of the warmth that word sends through my veins. The pure joy it brings me. Even though I know you don't mean it.

I love you.

I've said that a lot, haven't I? It gets easier every time I write it. You mean so much to me. You consume my thoughts.

I love you.

And I hate you.

I hate how you make me stutter and blush. I hate how you don't notice how I feel. I hate how much your laugh makes me laugh. I hate how green your eyes are.

I hate that cocky tone you get. I hate how much control you have over me, without even knowing it.

Most of all, I hate that I love you. Because I know you'll never love me back.

I love you.

I guess I'll end this here, not that you'll ever read this anyway. I love you so much.

I will sit in my chair, in front of my fireplace, drinking tea and throw this letter into the fire. I will watch it burn and hope that my love turns to ash like the paper does.

I love you.

Yeah, that was easiest one I've written.

With all my love and hate,

Monika Williams

The Providence of Saskatchewan, Canada

I closed my eyes and sighed as I finished my letter. I signed the bottom with a flourish and set my pen down.

I ran my fingers through my short, curly blond hair. I looked at the immaculate letter and hissed out a breath.

Why did I even write this damnable thing? I mean I wasn't even going to sent it!

I shook my head and grabbed and envelope and folded the letter and slipped it inside the pale gold envelope.

I pulled out my providence's seal, and closed the letter with it.

On smooth side of the letter, without the flap, I wrote a name on it.

Arthur

I wrote neatly and prettily. I held the letter in my hands and stared at it, All my feeling and soul was poured into this one letter. I contemplated actually sending the letter for a few moments, but wisely decided against it.

I remember when I first met England. Mother was at a world meeting, during WWI, and she didn't trust me alone with my brothers.

I saw him, the English gentleman, and was enraptured instantly. I was physically about fourteen, but I knew I loved him immediately. He barely looked at me, the daughter of the invisible Canada.

Then he started to yell at America and France and I was caught up in the rage in his eyes and passion he exerted.

I remember looking at him wide-eyed and mouth in a little 'o' shape.

He ignored me then and barely acknowledges me now.

It's sad really, how pathetically in love with him I am. I don't understand why I love him either. It's just a simple fact, like, we need oxygen to live.

I love Arthur Kirkland. And he will never know.

Then, my door bell shrieked out, almost angrily.

I place the letter down on my desk and walk out of my office.

The bell continues to cry out as I walk down the steps of my old, wooden staircase.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" I yell out, irritated. What guest keeps pressing the doorbell?

I open the door and hear the tale end of a conversation, " Stop it, you bloody git! She said she was coming!"

"Buuuuut Iggy!" America Whined.

I stood at my door in shock, England and America were at my door.

"W-why are you here?" I half ask, half demand. Both turn to me, realizing that I was now at the open door.

"YO! Monika! I'm here to visit my favorite niece!" America yelled happily.

I rose my eyebrow to England and he looked flustered, "The git dragged me with him."

I nod and smile somewhat sadly. He wasn't here because he wanted to see me.

"Ah, come in, make yourselves at home. I'll make tea. Do you want coffee, Uncle America?"

"Yup, dudette!" He yipped loudly. I rolled my eyes at my uncle's antics.

"I'll help you, love." England suddenly offered.

How odd.

"Thank you, England." I sad with a bright smile.

He followed me as I walked to my small, white and green kitchen. I turned on the stove and England and I moved in sync. He turned on the water and I pulled out my kettle and started to fill it. As I did this, he pulled two little white tea cups and plates from my cabinet.

I placed the kettle on the stove and he pulled out a few packets of tea and I went to turn on the coffee pot.

"Oh," I said, suddenly remembering the sugar was in my office, "England, can you get the sugar from my office? I was having tea earlier."

"Of course. Where is you office?"

"Up the stairs, down the hall, second door on your left." I said firmly. He nodded and walked away.

As the water boiled and the coffee brewed, I walked back into my living room and walked to my fireplace.

Uncle smiled at me and was holding something for, yes, you guessed it, burgers. I smiled fondly and shook my head.

I grabbed two logs from a metal banister and threw them into the dying, orange embers.

"How was the trip up, Uncle?" I asked good-naturedly.

"Awesome, but Iggy got all irritated by how many times the heroic me had to stop to pee. I drank a 64 ounce soda before we left!" He exclaimed boisterously.

I put my hand over my mouth, trying not to burst out laughing at my uncle's so called 'plight'.

"Don't laugh!" He whined, waving his hands.

I lost it completely and busted up laughing and laughed until I nearly cried. Uncle joined me in my laughing.

A few minutes later, I could breath, but not without a few giggles.

"I'm going to check the coffee, I'll be right back, Uncle." I said, now in good spirits.

I hummed as I walked back into the kitchen. The coffee was finished and the water almost. I grabbed a coffee mug and poured some of the rich brown liquid in.

"Lots of sugar right, Uncle?" I called into the living room.

"Yup!" He chirped in response. I looked around, and realized, England had yet to return.

What was taking so long? I only sent him for the sugar, oh god. In my office.

In my office! With my letter!

I felt the color drain from my face and a cold chill settle in me. I prayed to whatever god there was, for him not to find my letter.

"Gah!" I cried out, as the kettle screamed behind me. I let out a shuddering breath as I clutched my racing heart.

I still needed the sugar and England was still in my study. I gnawed on my lower lip in worry. I poured the boiling water into the two teacups and placed a tea bag in each cup. I grabbed a tray and placed the mug and teacups on it and took it to the living room.

The tray and cups were trembling as my hands shook.

I placed it on my coffee table but was too anxious to sit down.

"E-England hasn't come back with the s-sugar yet, so don't d-drink yet." I stuttered.

Uncle looked at me quizzically but I shook my head.

"Yo, Iggy!" He yelled out and I whipped around, making myself dizzy, and say England at te top of the stairs.

In one hand the sugar and in the other, my letter.

My eyes widened and I turned an ashen gray. I gulped and tried to force away the lump in my throat.

He walked to us, ever so slowly, and placed the sugar on the tray in deafening silence.

"I-I-I-" I stutter pathetically, but he holds his hand out to silence me.

His bright green eyes bore into my blue ones and my chest ached. I felt tears built in my eyes and my lower lip quivered slightly.

I looked down and saw that the letter was opened. I gasped and looked back at him quicker than I thought possible.

Uncle America wisely stayed quiet.

England held up the golden envelope, the side that clearly had his name written on it showing, "What is this, Monika?"

I gaped and tried to summon words, but none came out.

He scowled and I felt my chest constrict and heart shatter.

"I-It's nothing. R-rubbish! I was going to burn it!" I stuttered franticly.

He looked doubtful and pulled out the letter and dropped the envelope to the floor.

He cleared his throat and started to read the letter, "Dear Arthur-"

"NO!" I cried out in desperation, "Please, don't!"

Tears started to flow down my face and I begged, "God, England, please don't read it. I'm begging you!"

He looked shocked at my tears and begging.

"This isn't a joke?" He asked in wonder.

I shook my head, panic filling my body. My breathing sped up and I was nearly hyperventilating.

Suddenly, he was hugging me and I hear, and felt, the deep chuckling in his chest.

"You silly girl, why didn't you tell me you loved me?" He asked softly, "Oh and 'Most of all, I hate that I love you. Because I know you'll never love me back.' Is very untrue. I love you, Monika."

I gasped and pulled away from him.

"You love me? You never talk to me, ignore me!" I yelled, confused as all hell.

"Very much so. And I thought you could never love me. I am much older than you. I half raised your mother!"

Tears of joy ran down my pale cheeks and I threw my arms around his neck and kissed the English fool.

"Oh Iggy! Dude, that's my niece!" He paused, then spoke again, "Dude, Canada is gonna kill you!"

We both froze and that and pulled away.

Our gazes met each others, their thoughts the same.

'Oh fuck.'

So, there it is. I'm sorry if Iggy is OOC, this is the first time I've written him.

Reviews feed the poor, poor, hungry author.