Poland's heart raced as the book of legends slid from his fingers and tumbled to the wood panel floor. This, like, isn't right, he thought to himself as his mind raced through what he had just read. There's totally no way in hell we could, like, be related!

Poland stared at the book, which now laid spread out on the floor with its plain binding crushing the yellowed pages. It shouldn't have shocked him; that particular story had been told since the late thirteenth century. Perhaps he'd disregarded the tale and had simply forgotten about it. Maybe it was because of the changes that had happened in recent centuries. Now tears began to sting his eyes, but he wasn't completely sure just why he was crying.

It's, like, just a legend. It's totally not true. Quit crying, like, now!

He tried to calm down, but it was hard. Two tears slid down his face. They merged at his chin and plunked onto his thigh, leaving a small dot of denim that was darker than the rest of his jeans. Poland looked around his bright and inviting kitchen. It was the middle of December, and Poland had decorated his house for Christmas, hanging tiny candies from the doorways and strewing left over ribbons from the Mikołajki gifts a few days before. The window was frosty and Poland had drawn a horse-shaped figure on the foggy glass. Faint Christmas carols drifted in from the living room, where a large, wonderful smelling pine tree sat in a bucket of water, decorated with baubles and small wrapped chocolates.

It was a normal day in his cozy house, but Poland felt unrest.

Quit being so totally stupid. It's like, just a legend. Not, like, true.

Poland sighed to regain his peace and reached down to pick up the book from beneath the kitchen table. A few of the worn pages were now folded and even more damaged looking than they had been before. He flipped the book closed, and then opened it again to the cover page. In loopy handwriting, it said, "To Poland: I wish that you have enjoyed this celebration of Christmas, and that future Christmases will be as full of food, laughter, and prayer as they were this year. Your loving friend, Lithuania. January 6th, 1571."

Poland gave a sad smile. It had been two years after his marriage to Liet. Liet had surprised him with a small gift on the final day of Christmas, a practice that hadn't been very common back then. Poland felt like an ass for not giving Lithuania anything, but had made it up to him by presenting his partner with a Samoyed puppy in the spring.

He, like, wrote down all the Polish legends he heard on his own. In my own language, too! Damn it, this is, like, all I have left from our lives together.

He turned to the page he had been reading earlier. Lithuania had made the title of each story bold. Poland's head swam as he read O Bracia Lechu, Czechu, I Rus: Założyciele Polski, Czech, i Rosji.

The Brothers Lech, Cech, and Rus : Founders of Poland, Bohemia, and Russia.

Does this, like, mean Russia and I are brothers?

"Poland, you're kidding me, right?" Hungary's voice sounded distant on the phone.

"I totally wish I was, but I'm not."

"Let me get this straight. You read some ancient legend that probably has no historical truth, and you start weeping and hyperventilating because you think you and Russia are brothers."

Poland was lying on his bed, the dark pink comforter pulled around him, cellphone in hand and against his ear. It was snowing outside, but Poland couldn't see the dancing flakes because he had traded in his lace curtain for heavy red ones for the winter. Krzysztof, his tiny albino polish rabbit, was romping freely around his room. The animal had been taught to use a litter box by Hungary; how she had done it, Poland was not sure how, but apparently it was easy to do so as Holland claimed that all his pets were trained. Poland draped his hand over the side of his bed and the friendly pet hopped over to be stroked.

"Pretty much," he answered.

"Wait a moment," Hungary's distant voice seemed to be pulsing. There was a heartbeat of static, and Hungary's voice returned, louder and sounding as though she were right in the room with Poland. "Sorry about that, we were moving Austria's piano into the main living room since the sitting room's got that big window in it and it gets cold, and one of the legs got caught on the phone cable. Some of the wires loosened, I just tightened them right now."

"Like, how did you manage to get the grand piano through the doorway?"

"With our awesome skills. Come on, Poland. Even if that legend is true, which I can guarantee it is not, you and Russia wouldn't be brothers. You'd be cousins or something. And not even that, really. People in relation to us don't really matter. I mean, one of my men was your boss at some point, but that didn't make us married or siblings or anything."

"It's totally different," Poland said as he ran his fingers over Krzysztof's extremely small ears. "King Batory was, like, elected as my boss. Russia and I- our founders were, like, brothers! That's, like, kind of extreme."

"The fact that you're getting your undies in a knot over a legend is kind of extreme."

Poland squeezed his eyes shut to counter the burning sensation he felt in them. "Hungary, like, think about it. Our languages are totally similar. That's gotta, like, mean something!"

"Germany and Britain's languages have some similarities, but nobody accuses them of being brothers." Hungary was beginning to get exasperated, but determined to cheer up her friend. "If it makes you feel any better, you look nothing like Russia or his sisters."

Poland said nothing, and Hungary spoke again. "Hey, you mentioned that there are three brothers, and one of them settles in Bohemia. That's where Czech Republic lives today, maybe she could tell you something."

Poland's eyes lit up and he jumped out of bed, reaching for the long grey winter coat draped across his bean bag chair. "Why didn't I totally think about that before? Like, you're awesome, Hungary. I'm gonna, like, go talk to CR right now!"

"Before you go, I want to invite you over to my house for a Christmas party. Basch and Lilli and Germany and that dickhead Prussia are coming, and Austria, well, lives here. I'm going to try to get the whole world to come over. We could spend the day taunting Prussia and finish off by getting drunk. Sound like a plan to you? You could bring Lithuania."

Poland paused at Lithuania's name. "I'll, like, totally be there, but Lithuania and I, like, aren't on the best terms right now. I mean, we're totally not at each other's throats, but we're, like, trying to be polite to each other, and that's totally not a good sign."

"Well, I'll make sure this party restores your friendship. And if it doesn't," Hungary added with a laugh, "You can make Warsaw my capitol."

Poland giggled. "Sounds good to me." He scooped Krzysztof up of the floor and gently put him in his cage. "I'm leaving now, so I'll, like, see you next week."

Hungary dropped into a whisper. "I'd invite you over after you and CR talk, but," Poland could hear Austria yelling about some mess in the background, "I think Austria's on his period." Hungary was talking normally again. "So, see you next week, and I want you to tell me everything that happens."

"I totally will. Bye."

"See ya."

Poland ended the call and slid his cell phone into the coat pocket. Bidding Krzysztof goodbye, he slipped out of his room and closed the door behind him, wanting to keep the room nice and warm for his return.