Now for a bit of more recent history. 'Recent,' in this case, being 1958.

Zaffa

It was a hot morning in early January and Egypt idly wiped his brow with his sleeve. Even his keffiyeh began to feel itchy and he had to resist the nervous impulse to scratch his head; he was in public, after all, and he doubted President Nasser – who was standing patiently beside him – would appreciate such a disruption from the dignified picture they presented.

"They are running late," the president grumbled in disapproval. He stamped out the cigarette he had finished smoking and immediately lit up another, causing Egypt to wrinkle his nose at the smell. "It is quite rude of them to keep us waiting."

"They were probably unavoidably detained," said Egypt. "Which route did they choose?"

"I believe al-Bizri said they wanted to keep their distance from the Suez Canal at the moment, so I doubt they will be coming here by way of the Ismailia Canal."

Egypt could understand their hesitance to travel through the Suez. Israel and his supporters in the west had been causing a few problems in that area since Egypt claimed the canal. As much trouble as it had caused, it was worth it to see France have such an epic meltdown over the crisis (Egypt had even heard rumors that France had actually begged England to marry him so that he could pay off the debts he'd racked up from the situation). Anything that made France bawl like a little girl or ruffled England's feathers elicited a warm, fuzzy feeling in Egypt's heart – after all, one doesn't go through about a century of forced occupation, oppression, and cultural decline without coming out at least a tiny bit bitter.

"Are you nervous, Gupta?" President Nasser said after a lengthy silence. There was a note of paternalistic concern in his voice. "You know I would not be asking this of you if I did not believe it was in your best interest."

"I am perfectly fine, sir," said Egypt. "I have the utmost faith in you."

"This alliance will be a difficult one. Even I am not entirely confident it will work."

"It is a chance we must take if we hope to begin a push towards a united Arab world."

"That is my wish, too, Gupta. You know I will be there with you through this process. It cannot be easy for you to make such a change, but I will do everything within my power to help you."

Egypt had to admit, of all his leaders in the last couple hundred years, he liked Nasser the most.

They only had to wait another twenty minutes before the steamer pulled into view, a flag on the vessel denoting its place of origin as Syria. Egypt shifted a bit on his feet as the ship docked and the ramp was set for the passengers to disembark. A team of stern-looking men in crisp military uniforms were the first to exit, hailing President Nasser as they descended into the vibrant Cairo port. Finally, behind the group of men, a young woman followed, with a few attendants carrying her luggage.

She was dressed in a black abayah and niqāb. She was not very tall, but Egypt could tell that she was a bit lanky beneath her heavy clothing. Her dark eyes peered at him through the opening in her veil and Egypt couldn't help but feel as though he was being inspected.

"President Nasser, thank you so much for receiving us," said the leader of the group of men. Egypt recognized him as Afif al-Bizri, the chief of staff for the Syrian Army. "Please, please, let us get right to business. We have little time to waste."

Egypt kept his gaze locked with Syria's as they sat across from each other at a small table. Egypt casually sipped a cup of mint tea while his boss continued to negotiate with al-Bizri and the Syrian delegation. It had been a month since negotiations began and the Syrian delegation was beginning to crack. Even Syria's president and prime minister had arrived to add their opinions to the mix.

"You call a dissolution of the political parties and withdrawing the military from politics 'fair terms'?" one of the delegates protested.

"And a plebiscite," said Nasser. "Do not forget the plebiscite."

"No, no, the plebiscite we are fine with," another Syrian delegate said – this one was Syria's Foreign Minister al-Bitar. "We will not argue with you on the plebiscite. But we are concerned about these other conditions. After all, we are simply interested in what will be best for Amira."

Syria raised a brow and threw a subtle look at the man.

"You are the ones who decided to approach me about Gupta," said Nasser. "I will not allow my nation to settle for anything less than the terms I have provided in that contract."

"This is extortionate," said yet another delegate; Egypt recognized him as Syria's Prime Minister al-Azem. "You cannot expect us to agree to this. It is an insult."

"If you do not like it, there is the door." Nasser pointed to the door behind them. "Please close it on your way out."

"This is tantamount to a coup," Syria's President al-Quwatli said through gritted teeth. "I will be forced to leave my position and hand all power over to you."

Nasser just blinked and continued to watch him with an even expression until al-Quwatli huffed and scowled at the man who had once been his ally.

"Fine," he said. "I find this entire business disgusting and degrading, but I have little choice. It is either this or my country will be abandoned to the Communists."

"Very well," said Nasser. "Now that that is settled, let us discuss the dowry."

This was, by far, the strangest tulba to ever occur in the Arab world, in Egypt's opinion.

The khutubah wasn't any less strange or awkward than the tulba had been. Egypt could feel the weight of dozens of pairs of eyes resting on him as he withdrew a small, velvet-covered box and opened it to reveal a set of rings. Egypt hesitated when he looked up and met Syria's gaze – still inscrutable and unnerving.

At his side, his faithful dog, Anubis, nudged him and Egypt remembered he had a duty to fulfil. He approached Syria, who offered her right hand to him, and he placed one of the rings on her right-hand ring finger. He then handed her the second ring, which she placed on Egypt's right-hand ring finger. Wedding rings were not really traditional in the Arab world, but had become more common in recent years thanks to the Westerners, so it was expected for the engagement ceremony.

The men of their respective governments applauded politely and then presented the final draft of the union agreement to President Nasser. Everyone then moved to the dining hall for the dinner party. It was a much simpler gathering than the actual wedding would be, but Egypt still ensured that everyone would be satisfied with the fare. He and Syria were seated side-by-side and Egypt could barely eat anything from how his stomach was tying itself in knots.

He had no idea why he kept feeling these odd things around Syria. He barely knew her at all, having only interacted with her briefly when he was being raised by Turkey. So how could it be that her mere presence made him so unsure of himself?

It was during the radwa that it really struck him.

He was overseeing the preparations for the wedding party at his house, with Syria's delegation of government officials clucking their opinions like a swarm of overprotective mother hens behind him, when the implications of everything finally registered and he fled out to the gardens.

The gardens at Egypt's house were lush and elegant, designed specifically to remind him of the gardens in his mother's house which Egypt recalled with a bittersweet nostalgia. A pond with floating lilies and lotus flowers, with fish swimming happily amongst the reeds. Date palms and fig trees and a few cedars – the latter of which were gifts from Lebanon – all surrounded him like towers of strength. Egypt found himself collapsing onto the grass and closing his eyes so he could feel the sun's warmth and hear the rustle of papyrus in the breeze.

In Egypt's mind, the word 'married' kept repeating like an ominous drumbeat.

He was getting married in a few days to a female nation he had practically-nonexistent interaction with. While they had both been part of Turkey's Ottoman Empire, Syria had resided with the female nations and Egypt had stayed solely within the areas occupied by men. Most of his time had been spent studying or running errands for Turkey or playing with Greece and Cyprus; Egypt had never even thought about befriending his female neighbors because they generally kept to themselves. Except for Lebanon, of course, Egypt thought with a fond smile.

Things might have been different in the Byzantine Empire. Egypt had vague recollections of those couple hundred years and the young nations he befriended back then; however, that time was brief and distant, cut short as wars tore Egypt away from the Byzantine Empire and saw Egypt's mother being killed by Persia. Egypt had become more withdrawn after that and clung to the few friends he really trusted.

Egypt opened his eyes as a shadow crossed over his face. Anubis was looking down at him with a concerned expression – well, as concerned as a dog could look, at any rate.

"I do not even know what I am doing, Anubis," Egypt said to his pet. "I had never even considered marriage a possibility."

"Woof!" Anubis replied.

"It's not like any of my friends have experience with this sort of thing. Greece is more interested in cats than other people, Cyprus is too busy trying to keep Greece and Turkey from killing each other to bother with romantic relationships, and Palestine…I don't even want to know what Palestine is into."

"Woof!"

"Unfortunately, Turkey and I aren't really on speaking terms right now. Besides, I doubt my bride-to-be will be pleased if I try to talk to him."

Egypt might not know much about Syria, but he did know of her seething hatred for Turkey. On the few occasions Egypt saw her when they were children, she had barged into Turkey's personal study and yelled at him about something until Turkey had his guards escort her away.

"I wonder what she's up to right now," Egypt thought aloud.

Syria was likely off purchasing furniture for the house with the generous mahr that President Nasser had granted her. It was part of the custom for the bride to use the dowry her husband-to-be's family granted her to buy furnishings for the couple's home – it was a bit of a meticulous process, as every single item purchased had to be recorded in case the couple divorced.

It felt like his space was being invaded. Some random woman he couldn't have said more than two words to would be moving into his home and rearranging everything and he would just be expected to put up with it. Egypt liked his house the way it was; he didn't want things getting changed around. He certainly hoped Syria didn't mess with the older objects in his home, many of which had once belonged to his mother. Those items were of extreme sentimental value and he wouldn't tolerate having them removed.

What would his mother think of this? Ancient Egypt had a very complicated relationship with Syria's forebears. Akkad, Hittite, Assyria, and Amorite had fought heatedly with Ancient Egypt for control of the region that was now Syria, and it disturbed Egypt, somewhat, how close he and Syria had come to being siblings. Not that that would have stopped an arranged marriage between them if the pharaohs still ruled – while Egypt loved his mother and admired her history and culture, certain tendencies of her ruling elite churned his stomach.

Syria had a bit of a rebellious nature, too, from what he'd been told. While Egypt had been fairly isolated as a child, what with his mother being the property of the emperor of Rome and her right to visitors severely restricted, Syria had grown up surrounded by very active and vocal nations. Palmyra, Syria's older sister, had even launched a rebellion against Rome at the insistence of Queen Zenobia. According to reports and what Egypt had witnessed, Syria seemed to be taking after her sister in many ways.

It left Egypt feeling deeply unsettled.

A surprise visit from Egypt's old friend Palestine did little to ease Egypt's misgivings. Palestine's loud proclamations about how an Egypt-Syria union was perfect for ensuring a united Arab world and an excellent opportunity to destroy Israel were not as reassuring as he'd intended them. It got worse when Palestine insisted on hosting a sahrah for Egypt while Syria was having her gomrah.

"It will be fun, my friend," Palestine said, slinging an arm around Egypt's shoulders. "Trust me. Music, dancing, food, belly dancers, I've thought of everything."

"There will be more than enough of all four of those things at the wedding," said Egypt with visible impatience. "I do not understand the need for all this excess."

"Because it is a wedding! Your wedding! It is a time to celebrate and have fun. You do remember what fun is, Gupta?"

"I do, in fact. But your idea of fun is a bit different to mine, Ismail."

"Come now, I've invited many of our old friends. It will be good for you to see them again."

When Palestine steered him out to the festivity in the garden, Egypt wanted to run up to his room and curl up with a cup of tea and a book and not come out again. Palestine had, indeed, invited their old crowd. Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Oman, Afghanistan, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Cyprus, Yemen, and Kuwait were all from their old circle of male nations in the Arab or Near Eastern world (the female nations were absent, as a sahrah was a men-only event). Palestine had also invited a few of Egypt's friends from other corners of the world, such as Greece, India, and even Japan.

It certainly meant a lot to Egypt that so many countries had come to offer their congratulations and support during such a stressful time, but he couldn't fight that bitter taste in his mouth about the whole thing. At least Turkey wasn't there; Egypt already knew there was going to be trouble when he saw Saudi Arabia.

"My deepest and sincerest felicitations to you on your approaching nuptials, my friend," said Saudi Arabia in that deep, officious tone he always used. "I trust I am finding you in good health and good spirits at this time, especially with all the trouble you have had in the last few years."

"Thank you, Abdullah," Egypt said, hoping to cut his greeting off there. Saudi Arabia had a tendency to go on for ages when greeting people. "I am very well. Everything is perfectly fine."

But Saudi Arabia paid this dismissal no heed and continued on as if Egypt hadn't said anything.

"And I am certainly delighted that at least one of you young men is taking a wife and settling down," he said. "You always were the most mature of the younger generation."

Kuwait, Yemen, and Oman all turned indignant looks towards the senior Arab nation.

"And Syria is a fine girl, I promise you," Saudi Arabia added. "To be honest, though, I always thought you would end up with Lebanon."

"Then let us be thankful he had the good sense to choose a more modest wife, Abdullah," Iraq chimed in, earning a disapproving look from Saudi Arabia. While the two were not outright enemies, things were noticeably tense between them. "Much as we all care for Jabira, you have to admit she has started to become far too liberal-minded."

"You say that as if it is a bad thing," Afghanistan added. "Is there something wrong with young Lebanon choosing to embrace the modern world?"

Egypt breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Afghanistan chose to join the conversation. He was something of a peace-maker among the nations of the Middle East. Despite the fracturing alliances and bitter feelings brewing between many of the nations present, Afghanistan had somehow managed to stay on good terms with most everyone.

But Egypt was thankful for his appearance for another reason than saving Egypt from having to hear Iraq and Saudi Arabia start up a very controversial line of discussion. The fact was that, when Saudi Arabia mentioned Lebanon, Egypt began to feel a bit flustered.

Of the few female nations whom Egypt could claim an acquaintance with, Lebanon was the only one he considered himself particularly close with. She was a bit of a wild young woman with lots of plans for improving the world – she'd always had a bit more freedom than many of Turkey's other territories, certainly more than Syria. Lebanon flaunted a lot of rules, even spending most of her time around male nations (which was how Egypt became friends with her – they shared a strong cultural tie that even went back to the days of their respective parents), but few were willing to criticize her for them – except for Iraq and Saudi Arabia, who thought of themselves as older brothers to most of the Middle Eastern countries.

"Come now, my brothers," Afghanistan continued. "We are in the latter half of the twentieth century. I think it is wonderful that Jabira is able to live her life to the fullest, now."

"I wish she would at least keep a headscarf on," Saudi Arabia said with a grumble. "I saw her walking around in public with no covering on her head…and with short hair! It's positively indecent! Syria certainly wouldn't act in such a scandalous manner."

"No, Amira knows where to draw the line," said Iraq. "She was always more attentive to tradition than Jabira."

Egypt was starting to wonder if they had forgotten he was there as Saudi Arabia and Iraq kept comparing the qualities of Syria and Lebanon. Afghanistan shot him a subtle look and Egypt realized he had been creating a diversion so Egypt could make his escape. Egypt nodded slightly to Afghanistan and slipped into the crowd.

He passed by Oman, who seemed on the verge of a panic-attack. The poor fellow never was very good with large groups of people, being as shy as he was. Yemen and Kuwait were arguing loudly about something, but their specific Arabic dialects were getting heavier the louder they got, so Egypt couldn't tell what they were saying.

Egypt managed to make it to his non-Arab friends and smiled softly as he approached. Greece was passed out on a bench, Japan was taking pictures of everything, India was dancing to the music, and Cyprus was simply sitting quietly beside Greece. It was Cyprus who noticed Egypt first and waved him over.

"I wondered when you were coming to see us," he said.

"Sorry," said Egypt. "Saudi Arabia tends to get very chatty, especially when Iraq is around."

"Just be thankful the girls cannot come to this party, or Iran would have a few things to say of her own."

"Please tell me she isn't coming to the wedding." Egypt felt a trickle of sweat down his face.

"That is what we have heard," India chimed in, not stopping his elegant dancing as the music continued. "Iran, Lebanon, Bahrain…"

"Oh, dear Allah, this is a disaster waiting to happen."

"How do you think I feel?" India added. "Your bride-to-be also invited Pakistan. The last thing I want to see is that vicious demon's ugly face."

"India-san, you surely do not mean that?" said Japan, lowering his camera. "You and Pakistan-san were married for several hundred years. You must have some fond thoughts of her?"

"East Pakistan maybe…but West Pakistan? Anything good I felt for her died with the Raj. I cannot begin to express how horrible things got between us right at the end. Personally, I blame England for it. Most of my problems seem to be his fault."

"You cannot keep blaming England when things go wrong for you, India," said Cyprus. "He's not that bad…sort of."

"Three words: East India Company."

"Maybe we shouldn't talk about such depressing things at this time," a soft voice interjected. Greece sat up from his lax pose and blinked at them with his misty gaze. "After all, Gupta is getting married. We shouldn't burden him with things like this."

"He should know what he could be in for," said India. "Marriages do not work out well for nations, most of the time. And divorce gets very messy when your people decide to declare war after your former spouse refuses to respect your custody claims."

The fight over Jammu and Kashmir was still going strong, it seemed. Egypt definitely hoped his union with Syria didn't go that disastrously wrong.

But he wasn't going to hold his breath.

While not an exclusively female tradition (indeed, in some places, both the bride and groom were meant to attend together) the gomrah, or "henna night," was a celebration largely reserved for the women of the wedding party. Egypt knew he was taking a huge social and political risk, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. His sahrah had gotten very stressful and emotionally draining for him; to the point that he went out to get some fresh air and wandered in the direction of Syria's gomrah. His desire to know something – anything, really – about his future wife had boiled over until he couldn't resist taking the chance to observe her from a safe distance whilst she was in the company of people she could be open about herself with.

The women were having the gomrah party at a private house that was being loaned to the Syrian delegation. Using a bit of athletic skill, Egypt climbed the garden wall and quietly dropped into the foliage to watch the proceedings.

The female nations were enjoying refreshments and music, much like the men at the sahrah were, and had crowded around a single figure in familiar black clothes.

"Come on, Amira, it's only us here," one of the women said encouragingly. She was a short, round-faced young woman with narrow, brown eyes and long, brown hair. By her voice, he recognized her as Bahrain.

Egypt's eyes widened as he realized he was looking at his female associates and neighbors without their normal veils and covers. His face burned red with embarrassment that he was intruding in such a way, but he couldn't quite bring himself to avert his eyes as he finally saw the faces of Bahrain, Qatar, Iran, and Pakistan.

That was when he caught sight of Lebanon and his heart began to speed up a bit. She had, indeed, cut her dark brown hair short, as Saudi Arabia had said, and it was now messy and windswept, framing her olive-toned face in a pleasant way that highlighted her thin, delicate features. Her clothing was more modern, too, and she was wearing that little necklace with a pendant shaped like a tiny tree. Her grey eyes glinted as she playfully caught her neighbor Syria by the end of her veil and skipped about her to remove the fabric before Syria could tug it back into place.

That was when Egypt caught sight of his bride-to-be's face for the first time.

She looked a good deal like Lebanon. They had the same soft skin and dark hair, though Syria's hair was noticeably longer and straighter than Lebanon's. Syria's features seemed sharper and more pointed than Lebanon's, too, which did not help the sternness of her unsmiling face.

"Jabira, give me back my veil," Syria said in a warning tone.

"Not happening, Amira," Lebanon replied with a cheeky smirk. "This is your gomrah and we want to be able to make sure you look perfect for your wedding."

"Just humor us, Amira," said a curvy, black-haired woman whom Egypt realized was Iran. She had a smooth, sultry way of speaking that was unmistakable. "We're all friends here."

"Parisa is right," said another woman, one whom Egypt recognized as Pakistan. "We are here for a Henna Night and, therefore, a Henna Night we shall have."

The female nations managed to get Syria into a chair and began inspecting her hands and feet. Qatar and Bahrain both giggled and decided Syria needed to have her nails done, too. Syria seemed to have a dislike of being touched, as she kept trying to pull away from Qatar and Bahrain as they manicured her fingernails. Once Qatar and Bahrain were satisfied, Pakistan and Iran began to work on the mehndi designs with the henna paste. Pakistan appeared to be the main artist in the group, as she did the more elaborate parts of the designs while Iran added the smaller, simpler details.

Lebanon, not otherwise preoccupied, decided to keep Syria distracted from her situation by striking up a conversation.

"So, I bet you're really excited to be marrying Egypt, right, Amira?" she said.

"It is not as if I had much of a choice in the matter," Syria answered calmly. "But he seems decent enough."

Egypt was not sure how to take that somewhat backhanded compliment.

"Oh, come now," said Lebanon. "Gupta is a sweetheart. At least, from what I remember of him."

Something in Syria's eyes flickered.

"You are on a first-name basis with my future husband, Jabira?" she said.

"Well, we were friends as children," Lebanon said, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "I think he's a wonderful person. I just wanted to make sure you knew that…seeing as you are marrying him."

"To be honest with you, I have some reservations about this alliance. While I admire what Egypt has been doing in recent decades and the work his boss is doing, I do not like the idea of binding myself to a man I have never really met as a person."

"Oh, but I'm sure you'll like Egypt! He may come off as a bit aloof when you first meet him, but he's actually very personable. He's a very caring soul and I know he still holds a deep respect for his mother. He likes making things, too…pots and sculptures and little things. Sometimes, I find it hard to tell the difference between the things he makes and the actual antiquities his mother's people left behind."

Egypt felt that warmth in his chest and his face again.

"As you say, Jabira," said Syria. "But I shall reserve judgement until I have the chance to speak with him. Our respective bosses have not allowed for us to have so much as a single conversation."

It was at least reassuring to know that Syria had the same concerns about the circumstances of their marriage as Egypt, himself. The more he watched, the more comfortable Egypt felt about the arrangement. Syria was a real person beneath the veil and the political façade. Egypt found out a few things of note about her, which he mentally filed away for future reference. As she interacted with her friends, Egypt realized that Syria was not as gruff and harsh as she had initially struck him. She seemed to be a lively soul, but restrained by a clear sense of caution and wariness. Just by the way she moved, her eyes occasionally darting in search of some potential threat, he could tell she was burdened by fears which her friends couldn't detect.

Egypt could respect that, but he also felt a pang of sympathy for Syria that life had made her so afraid.

Egypt felt his stomach clench as Palestine and Afghanistan carried him on their shoulders as the wedding party made their noisy procession through the neighborhood to the nearest mosque. His friends were singing boisterously and many of the human guests were dancing to the riotous music in true Dumiyati style. Egypt was wearing an elegant set of clothes his friends had bought for him after they saw, to their disappointment, that Egypt's nicest clothes did not quite measure up to their standards for something as important as a wedding.

Gone were the plain whites and browns of Egypt's regular wardrobe. A fine thawb in a pale – almost gold – tan shade had replaced his rough work clothes. Saudi Arabia had also gifted him a fine bisht (a ceremonial cloak) in black with gold trim. They'd even bought him a new keffiyeh, just because they thought it would be in poor taste for him to wear an old one with his fancy new clothes.

"I am sure there is a proverb about it," Saudi Arabia had insisted. "I cannot recall the passage, right now, but I am certain it is proscribed by the Prophet somewhere."

Still, for all the support he'd received from everyone, Egypt couldn't fight the fit of nerves as they arrived at the mosque to meet Syria and her delegates for the wedding ceremony and official merging of the two nations.

Egypt swayed a bit as his friends set him down and his feet hit the cool marble floor of the mosque. The pit was still open at the bottom of his stomach and he wasn't certain how he managed to make his way inside the mosque while his procession waited outside – still proclaiming their cheer to the heavens.

The group for the official ceremony was small and private. Just Egypt, President Nasser, Syria, Syria's president and prime minister, and the Imam.

Egypt had to admit that Syria looked quite radiant in her wedding clothes. Instead of the heavy black she wore when he had seen her, she was dressed in rich scarlet which had been delicately embroidered with gold. Egypt was surprised to see that she was wearing a normal hijab, rather than the face-concealing niqāb – perhaps she was not as shy about showing her face now that Egypt was in no position to walk out on her.

There was a small table with a pen and the marriage contract on it. The weight of those gazes had never felt as heavy as they did when Egypt reached for that pen.

A thousand thoughts swam through Egypt's head. Was this the right choice? Would he be able to look after Syria? Would his and Syria's marriage be happy? Would they be able to coexist as both nations and a couple? What if everything went wrong and they ended up declaring war on each other? What would Egypt's mother say?

And on it went. Egypt hoped that no one noticed how his hand trembled as he wrote his name. He tried to focus on the little sermon the Imam was giving on the importance of marriage and respect for one's spouse and the respective duties of a husband and wife. Egypt felt numb as he passed the pen to Syria, who signed with a much steadier hand than his.

With the contract signed, Egypt and Syria moved each other's ring from the right hand to the left. With a final prayer from the Imam, Egypt pressed a gentle kiss to Syria's forehead.

The two of them were seated side-by-side on matching throne-like chairs at the reception. It was a tradition that the bride and groom be seated as if they were the queen and king of the party. The festivities had been going for about five hours – Egypt could tell because Syria, in accordance with her own traditions, was obliged to change into a different wedding dress every hour (everyone would know the party was over when she put on a white dress).

Egypt was thankful that the guests managed to behave themselves, even when faced with nations or humans they bore a strong animus towards. He thought there might be particular trouble with Iran and Saudi Arabia or India and Pakistan, but the individuals clearly went out of their way to avoid each other like the plague.

"Thank Allah for small mercies," Egypt thought aloud.

"I'm sorry?" Syria said, looking at him in confusion.

"What? Oh, my apologies. I was merely thinking that it's a good thing some of our friends are being proactive in avoiding each other…you know, considering…" Egypt's voice trailed off, but he could see that Syria understood his point.

"Hmm, I suppose it saves us the work of running interventions. Pakistan was particularly angry when I told her India was expected to be here."

"I can imagine." He didn't have to imagine. He'd seen it while he'd been spying on the gomrah. "It could not have been easy being split apart as they were. And I heard that East Pakistan may be planning her own separation."

"'Bangladesh' is the name I've heard suggested. She used to be Bengal before she left with Pakistan."

"India will undoubtedly support her if she does decide to break from Pakistan."

"Salima will be heartbroken if Barsha abandons her."

"It is not up to us what will happen between them. Either they will reconcile and come to an accord or there will be another independence campaign."

The newlywed couple fell into an awkward silence. Discussing the domestic issues of their friends and allies put something of a damper on the festivities for them as it put in mind the possibility of the potential for similar problems in their own life together. Egypt took a tentative bite of fattah, though the rich taste of the dish now seemed bitter on his tongue.

"Gupta…" Syria said hesitantly. "I may call you 'Gupta,' now, right?"

"It only makes sense for you to use my human name now that we're married," Egypt answered evenly. "That is, if I may call you 'Amira,' in return?"

"Of course."

"Then, what may I do for you, Amira?"

"What do you think our lives will be like within the next decade or so? I have been…concerned about our future and whether this alliance between us will last."

So, she really was as worried as Egypt was. At least they were both starting this marriage off on the same page.

"I do not know," said Egypt. "I am just as unsure about all this as you are, Amira. The world we live in is not a particularly peaceful one, at the moment."

"Or ever," Syria added softly.

"I suppose so. And, truth be told, I am sorry you had to be put through this for the sake of your people. It cannot have been easy…marrying someone you hardly know…" His voice got very quiet as he said those last words, but Syria heard him.

"It has not been easy, no," she said. "But I know my duty to my people. My government saw this as the best option to keep my people safe and provided for. I have a great respect for your President Nasser and his vision of a united Arab world. And…" She looked away from him. "…And, you seem to be a good soul, Gupta. I hope that, even if this union does not work, we may still consider each other friends and allies."

"I hope so, too, Amira. Even if we only have today as a husband and wife, let us, from this moment on, consider ourselves bound by friendship."

Syria looked back up at him with a small smile which Egypt returned. The two of them then turned back to watch the celebrations around them. They could allow themselves to enjoy the joyous atmosphere, if only for an instant. Today was about more than just them – today was about the nations and people who had come to see their union and enjoy the festivities. For the ones they truly cared about, Egypt and Syria could permit themselves to be happy for a few hours.

Author's Note: Egypt and Syria's merger as the United Arab Republic lasted from 1958 until 1961.

A 'zaffa' is a traditional wedding procession in many Arabic wedding rites. It is supposedly derived from a pre-Islamic practice in Egypt.

President Gamal Abdel Nasser was one of (if not the) most famous of Egypt's presidents. Many Egyptians regard him as something of a cultural icon and hero, so I tried to be as respectful in my portrayal of him as possible. He counts as a historical figure, right? I know Fanfiction has rules about which real people you can use in your fics and they can only be 'historical' figures (that's pretty vague, though - when is someone considered 'historical'? When they're dead or what?).

Everyone remember the Hetalia episode where France was trying to force England to sign that marriage certificate after the Suez Canal Crisis left him bankrupt and he needed a quick bailout? Well, this chapter is basically what was going on at the same time with Egypt, the nation responsible for France's plight.

I actually enjoyed writing the 'engagement' scene because Egypt's and Syria's bosses were acting like a bunch of fussy old mothers negotiating a betrothal contract.

Here's the different parts of a traditional Arab wedding which I showed. As always, please correct me on any errors. I had to glean what I could on Muslim wedding customs and the wedding traditions of Egypt and Syria, as well as Arab customs.

Tulba – formal betrothal.

Khutubah (Egyptian/Levant term) – engagement ceremony.

Radwa – men on both sides of the family make sure everything is set up for the wedding party.

Gomrah (Henna Night) – bachelorette party (sort of) where the bride gets her hands painted with henna.

Sahrah – bachelor party where the groom can have non-family friends come to celebrate his wedding.

Dumiyati – a type of zaffa popular in northern Egypt.

Also, note to self: Write a chapter that isn't focused on marriage. I swear, I don't even really like romance stories. Why in hell do I keep writing romance/marriage in my Hetalia stuff? And cut back on 'awkward silence' moments.