"It is a season bringing closeness through shared wonder in its charm,

undoubtedly forgotten in the clamor to be warm.

It's synonymous with singing, togetherness and gifts,

though the holiday gets credit for each spirit Winter lifts.

As we huddle close and goad its end with promises of green,

there is another side to this we've never fully seen.

I bid you look, not only see, but hear and feel as well,

the Winter cold is calling, for it has a tale to tell."

Clouds had already overshadowed the crisp light of the fresh snow, leaving a dull grey sky overhead. The season had come in full, and every element added to the feeling of Christmas; there were icicles and rainbow-colored lights hanging from the shops you passed, each store with a snowy scene displayed in the front window, carols humming in a muffled jumble from the host of cars weaving through the intersection ahead, and the tempting scent of fresh hot chocolate from the stand of an opportunist entrepreneur. It was a bustling, organized chaos, every person rushing off on a separate journey. This snowy place was an adventure for you, something completely removed from your usual surroundings. As French Guiana, you rarely saw the crackling ice that spiderwebbed across the windshields of cars abandoned in mall parking lots, or felt the soft crunching of gritty, salted snow between your shoes and the pavement.

Since you'd been invited for the first time to America's house for his Christmas Eve party, you decided to do the last of your shopping for his overly-hyped Secret Santa event at an American shopping plaza. It had been an interesting trip, and you'd already spent most of your budget on more appropriate Winter clothing. It was ridiculously cold! You rubbed your hands together through the fabric of your new snowman-patterned mittens, checking on the last of your cash. There was still a twenty dollar bill in the envelope you'd kept from your converted withdrawal, and you made up your mind to spend it on your Secret Santa contribution before another pricey purchase caught your eye. Bypassing the next few window displays, you brainstormed a fitting gift for the event; it had to be something that couldn't offend the recipient no matter who drew your lot from the 'hat' Alfred had said he'd be using to randomize the giving. Of course, the blonde had also claimed he'd accept requests on the gift-swap, but there weren't many countries actually going to the party, and you only knew a handful. Papa France was a safe bet on giving, but knowing his past party antics, his contribution would be a bottle of red wine that he himself somehow ended up with.

There was always Latvia; you two were about the same age, and you knew he'd be lonely at the party since Ivan had decided to send the Baltics but skip the event himself. Also, you'd sort of had the slightest crush on him for a while, but that wasn't even a factor, really. He was just interesting... and cute. But mostly just plain odd. The two of you had become friends the first time you'd met, when you'd thrown your shoe at Gilbert to keep him from trying to enlist the poor boy in some stupid 'Crusade of Awesome' against Ivan. After that odd encounter as children, you and Latvia had spent quite a few Allied -and later World- Meetings discussing the other countries and your own ideas for bringing peace, and though you'd met the other members of Russia's employ, he was the only one you became close to. You'd peeked over Raivis' shoulder the last time you'd crossed paths and discovered that he was writing flowery, romantic poems, each labeled, 'For Ana.' For the crybaby of Russia's followers, he was admirable. The meter had been even, and his poems described this girl as though she was the most wonderful person he'd ever seen.

Despite being quiet around most of the countries and a little rough around the edges, you'd always thought that kind of romantic flattery was adorable, and had decided to try your hand at writing a poem. The result had been burned, and you were resolved never to tell Latvia about the poem you'd written him wherein you'd likened his eyes to 'violets, because they're also purple' and called his smile 'a rare but likeable thing, like a Brit who can hold his ale.' With a shudder you decided to buy a present and forego the self-pity that would come with another attempt at poetry. It would be simple to find a book of famous poems, but even better if you could get ahold of a well-made journal to be filled with his own writing. Of course, the blonde Baltic would probably figure out that you'd seen his poetry...

Deep in thought as you were, it was a few seconds later that you realized you had stopped dead before the panoramic window of a specialty craft shop. On display were several knit caps, an array of red and green accessories, and several sets of reindeer-print stationery. Turning to leave, you just noticed two products that stood out from the rest. The first was a spiral-bound journal decorated with glittered snowflakes and the words 'Winter Wonderland' in a swirling font. It had a velcro strap near the binding to hold a pencil, and locked with a miniature padlock whose key was shaped like a candy cane. Despite its charm, you couldn't expect Raivis to use it often. The holiday theme was a bit gaudy, and to be honest you wanted a more personal gift if you were really going to request to be his Santa.

Your second glance was stolen by the puffy white earmuffs clasped over a blank mannequin head. They resembled both marshmallows and snowballs, and there was an odd saying stitched in red thread on a felt cover over the center of the silver band. "Winter is Coming," you read aloud, frowning at the confusion slowing your voice. It must have been an American thing. As you gazed longingly at the earmuffs, your reflection stared back with fascinated eyes, and you noticed the windblown mess your hair had become in only a few hours. Trying without much success to smooth it down with mittened hands, you sighed and peeled one off, brushing now cold and numb fingers through the wavy black strands that stuck out at varying angles. When you looked up from replacing the mitten on your chilled hand, a pair of violet eyes had joined your own hazel in the storefront reflection. "Hello, Lilliette."

"Good afternoon, Raivis," you drawled quickly, hoping to hide your instinctively happy tone at his arrival, "How are you?" He shrugged and smiled, looking over his shoulder. "Mister Russia actually gave us Baltics the day off to go to America's celebration, so it's actually pretty nice... Though I keep wondering if he's following me around..." You smiled back at the paranoid country before looking longingly at the earmuffs. The price tag read '$15,' and you knew you couldn't find a decent journal for only five dollars. With a disappointed sigh you rubbed your numb ears and asked Raivis, "What brings you to this plaza?" Latvia glanced in the display window before scratching his neck and replying, "I haven't bought a gift to contribute for that Secret Santa event yet. I carpooled with Estonia and Lithuania, so I didn't have a chance to pick anything up on the way. You?"

You weren't about to explain that you'd been contemplating a gift for him until he'd appeared, so you settled on a flat response of, "Same... Except the carpooling." Raivis smiled, and you couldn't help but turn away to hide your grin. Dammit he was cute! "D'you want to shop together?" you risked, still looking at anything but him. Eye contact was a no go, and you glimpsed a response in his reflection on the window as he grinned. "It wouldn't be a Secret Santa Claus if we knew which gift the other bought," Latvia joked, "But we could look around this store together until we decide what to buy." You agreed to the idea, trying not to sound too eager, and the two of you headed inside. The store was well heated, and it smelled of cinnamon brooms and clean fabric.

Raivis looked around, seeming more happy than usual; he was wearing his regular red and gold shirt and pants, but had on a reindeer headband with rainbow-colored lights hanging from the antlers. You'd noticed the band before, but hadn't wanted to say anything about the bright accessory that didn't seem to fit the usually crybabyish country. "Did you buy the antlers at one of the malls around?" you finally asked as he tried to maneuver through the small and crowded aisle ahead. He shook his head, and the headband sent three boxes of candy canes toppling to the floor behind him. As he bent down to retrieve the fallen packages, he answered, "I made it from some felt and wire I had and attached some lights to make it more holiday... -y." When Latvia had finally replaced the candy canes on the shelf and made it to the open craft area, he turned back to you, cheeks a little pink. "I do some sewing in my spare time," he explained, his voice an embarrassed mumble. You reached over and messed up the front of his hair as he cringed and turned redder. "It's well done," you commended with a smile, "Are you going to wear it tonight?" The violet-eyed country smiled and shook his head. "I've had a better idea," he announced, turning away.

Without another word he ran off, waving, and you stood in confused silence for a moment. You'd been ditched after only a couple of minutes, and you still had to find a present to contribute to America's game. It wasn't as though you'd really request to have Latvia receive your gift, so you gave up on buying stationery or a notebook, though you did manage to check the prices and decide that none of them were personal enough. After an hour of pretending not to be pacing in front of the writing section, you made a purchase that left you with just enough cash to get those fluffy earmuffs you'd been longing for between thoughts of gifting. You'd begun to skip complacently to your prize when you noticed a woman walking to the counter with the earmuffs in her clutches. By one minute!

Now slightly annoyed by the crowds milling about the plazas, you took the quickest route back to your hotel and got straight to work on the project you'd planned with your five dollars in craft supplies. Two hours, a papercut and three mugs of hot chocolate later, it was finished; a thread-bound notebook with a homemade cloth cover bearing Raivis' name, the monikers of famous poets, and the Latvian flag. It was perfect! Except that it was obviously made for him and a product of your knowledge of his poetic pursuits... If you tried to pass that off as a 'secret,' the world itself would laugh. Not to mention that if Latvia didn't like it, you'd be embarrassed again in front of Papa France... Argh, there was no WAY you were going to do that! The only choice was to fork over the book before the party and hope he didn't read anything into the gesture, then go buy some trinket for America's party...

It was with a feeling of awkward guilt that you dialed the number of Latvia's cell phone, a number you'd been given by Russia when he mentioned having purchased a set of phones for the Baltics so that he could 'keep in contact' with them. Raivis answered after the third ring with a timid, "Hello?" You swallowed your pride and snapped, "It's Lilliette. Twenty minutes. The playground by America's house. Meet me at the swingset." The slightly confused reply of, "Alright," surprised you, but you hung up and mentally kicked yourself regardless. Now you had to give him the stupid book, and when you did he'd surely figure out how creeperish you'd been in learning about his interest in poetry (and getting his phone number!)

Your entire walk to the playground you'd chosen as the meeting place (after seeing it in passing only twice) was spent arguing with yourself over whether you could keep pretending to have no interest in Latvia. Sure, it was only a dumb kiddy crush, but he was still the kindest person you knew, and even if you had to protect his crybaby ass for the rest of your life, you wanted to stay close to Raivis. Argh, this is so stupid. Chaque chose vaut son prix*... I hope.

Cursing the mess you'd made of what was supposed to be a simple exchange, you set down the bag holding Latvia's book and planted yourself on one of the swings, digging your shoes into the snow and dirt. You gripped the cold chains of the swingset tightly, glad that you'd decided to wear your mittens, and backpedaled slowly until you could barely touch the ground with your toes. With a slow smile you closed your eyes and pushed off, kicking your legs out to give yourself a better swing. The chilly sting of the air was buffered by your coat and mittens, but your cheeks, nose and ears still burned with cold as you maneuvered back and forth on the low swing. There was a long, relaxing stroke of silence, broken only by the occasional creaking of the swingset chain, and you spent the time you had banishing your stress. After all, everything would work out. Latvia would take his present, and then you'd go buy a gift for the exchange and head to Alfred's house. At this rate you'd run late, but at least it beat the faux pas of 'anonymously' gifting the notebook to Raivis.

"Lilliette!" You opened your eyes at the sound of Latvia's voice, releasing the set's suspended chain mid-swing to land half-gracefully on your feet in the mulch-filled snow. "Good evening, Raivis," you responded without a hint of vibrato in your voice. In a less secure timbre, your friend coughed, "Good evening. You, er, wanted to talk or something?" Raivis, who was wearing a santa hat in place of the headband he'd worn earlier and carrying a wide, red-wrapped box, looked like he could run away at any moment. He appeared to be held in place by pure willpower. "You've improved at standing your ground since we met," you joked, hoping he'd catch the reference you were making. To your surprise (and immediate delight) he chimed in with, "Prussia's gotten considerably more pushy about that." With a nod you bent over and snatched up your gift bag from the ground, holding it out to Latvia with an unwavering stance. "I was uh, bored, so I made this for you... Merry Christmas."

"For me?" Raivis' cheeks turned pink as he stared at the bag, not reaching for it for a long moment. When he finally took it, you turned your head away to avoid making eye contact and tried not to bolt the second he glimpsed the present. After a couple of seconds you glanced back at him to see a frozen smile. "Er, do you like it?" you asked, hoping a response would break the tension. He gave a silent nod, still studying the cover of the journal, and you started to fidget and twiddle your thumbs. He liked it! But if he studied it he'd notice how unprofessional it looked compared to the ones at the craft store... "These are some of my favorite poets' names. Thank you, Lilliette." You were pulled into a warm, awkward hug by Raivis, who backed away red-faced and smiling the moment he released your shoulders. "I kind of made something for you, too," he admitted, holding up the package you'd assumed was his contribution for America's party. It was wrapped in metallic red paper and had a gold bow taped on. Latvia proffered the gift box, and you took it from his grasp hesitantly. "Thank you," you mumbled, trying to keep your expression under control. He'd made you something?! Had he known about your plan?

You situated yourself back on the swing and laid your feet flat on the snow, tugging off your gloves and flipping the box over to untape the wrapping paper with careful fingers. When you'd worked the paper off, you noticed a neat script on the white underside.

"For Ana," you read,

"In all days passed and yet to come, I have but one regret;

something I've wanted you to know, but haven't mentioned yet.

Along the way to being friends, I walked another road,

and so to you I offer this; a single truthful ode.

I love your smile and laughter, your jokes both cold and light,

I love your great ambition to make the world more bright,

I love that when I think of it, I know that this is true;

Of all the things I love, the thing I love the most is you..."

You looked up, trailing off at the end of the poem. Your friend was staring at the ground. Trying to hide your disappointment that he'd written this of someone, you sighed, "It's beautiful. I'm sure Ana will love it when you finally show it to her." Refolding the wrapping paper so that the poem showed, you set it under the gift box and lifted the lid to see what had once been Latvia's reindeer headband. The antlers and lights were still in place, but where the bottom had been there were now large 'reindeer ears' made of cloth and fluff, behind which were plush pads. "Earmuffs?" He'd made his headband into earmuffs for you? "Why-?"

"I saw those earmuffs you liked at the craft shop, but I didn't have enough money for them, so I figured I could make some out of what I had handy. The poem was supposed to be my explanation, but of course you wouldn't get it... The name was my secret..." Latvia scratched his head and looked at you, but you were frozen. What did he mean, explanation? With that smile you'd grown to love, he picked up the earmuffs with both hands and slipped them over your head, turning on the hanging lights. The sharp cold fled your ears, and you joked, "So I'm a reindeer now?"

"If your nose was more red, I'd have to call you Rudolph," Latvia answered. Giving a smile, he added, "Do you like them, Ana?" You blinked, then glanced to your side. There was no one standing beside you. "Raivis... You just called me Ana," you mumbled, half in shock. Latvia chuckled, but the sound was a bit strained. "I knew I should've used your real name," he sighed, "Will you listen if I try to explain something?" You nodded, and he continued.

"When I was little, I met a girl who's been very kind to me. She's taught me to see beyond today, and keeps me smiling when I want to cry. I realized a while ago that she was precious to me, and that I wanted to tell her. I was worried that she'd reject my feelings, so I started drafting my confession as a poem written to an alias I gave her. At first it was very long and detailed, and I ended up saying too much. Then I realized that the simplest way to explain myself would be to ignore the specifics and try to focus on the day to day feelings. That poem was the one I decided on. French Guiana, if you take away letters and simplify starting from the beginning as I did with my poem, becomes Ana. So that's the name I picked for my confession to you... I'm sorry to force all this on you when you have other things to do-"

Latvia stood frozen as your lips touched his, staring back at your cool, relieved smile as you stepped back and tried not to pump your fist or hop up and down. Holy crap I just kissed him! "I'm sorry for peeking at your poems," you admitted, "But not for the kiss. That was revenge for waiting to tell me." You spun around and grinned, skipping off, and a stuttering Raivis followed a few steps behind. "W- wait up! Where are you going, Ana?"

"There's all this snow and beauty out here, and Alfred wants us to huddle inside and play cheesy games! So I think I'll skip the party, find a lake and learn how to skate or make a snowman instead. If you can follow the light of this reindeer's nose, maybe I'll let you join me!" Everything was perfect; the sunset that cast a rainbow over the frosted ground, the cozy warmth of your excitement, and the knowledge that Raivis returned your feelings made for a perfect holiday. There was only one thing that needed to be done. Giving a smile, you twirled around and walked backward for a moment. "By the way, I love you too, Raivis."

* Chaque chose vaut son prix = All things are worth their price. (French Proverb)