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Part 3: Chapter 2: Commitment

Belarus blinked her eyes open to the rays of the sun. She'd missed watching the sunrise for today. She then looked up and stared at the ceiling, blinking. She was back at her home after the World Meeting in Italy.

Belarus and England had parted ways rather abruptly as they'd overslept; England almost missed his flight and she, her train, back to their respective homes. Belarus had felt a variety of things on the train ride back to Minsk: deep sorrow at their separation, overwhelming excitement at their passionate sexual connection and intense anger at the physical distance between them.

She got up and proceeded to dial England's number, eagerly waiting for him to pick up.

Ring

Ring

Ring

The answering machine picked up then and Belarus frowned.

"Good morning England. I thought about how you...You fucked me, and I felt intense burning feelings of love for you! So marry me. Marry me. Marry me." She started chanting, and her eyes started to lose focus.

Belarus hung up then and went into the rose garden. She snipped the stems before gathering about five of them.

Then she went back inside to tie the bundle together with one of her bows before putting them in a pitcher of water.

Belarus called England again and frowned once again when it went to voicemail. "Hello England, did you get my message? If not, I will give you another. Short this time: Marry me! Marry me! Marry me! Marry me." Belarus hung up and then got ready for bed.

Belarus called England once a day for the next two weeks, each time being left to the answering machine. She'd ask England how he was doing before making a comment about what she'd done that day. Whether it be consuming her daily slice of Belarusian propaganda, cooking potatoes, listening to music or watching the sunrise. She'd always end it the same.

It was the end of those two weeks and she left her latest message. Beep. "Hello England, I'll keep this one short, I have to go out for a few things. So I might not get your call but it still doesn't mean you shouldn't marry me!" Belarus hung up before grabbing her light sweater. She went towards the door before leaving out.

00000000000

Belarus came back a couple of hours later, she got a new set of utility knives, a dagger and a switchblade. She stood at her doorstep eyeing a box left there. She opened the door, bending down to grab it, the bag with the switchblade hanging from her arm, before she went into the house.

Belarus set the box down on her kitchen table and looked at the label, noticing it was from England. Belarus felt her heart swell with joy, England had gotten her another cardboard box.

She set down her bag before digging inside to grab a knife and opened the box. Belarus first pulled out a white envelope. Next she pulled out a large worn textbook and an apron with daisies and flax flowers around the border. She set down the apron and put the book on the table before grabbing the box to put it on the floor. She stepped inside the box to sit.

Then she opened the envelope.

In England's neat cursive writing it said:

Belarus,

I'm not great with voicing my feelings. I typically find it easier to write them out. I got your messages, but I am afraid that I cannot accept your proposal for marriage. As Nations we can't get married unless our governments form an alliance, and that seems unlikely considering our vastly different political climates.

As far as symbolically, if we were to strip away our nation status, I will be quite frank with you: I am not in love with you . Lust and love are two different things, as the throes of passion we engaged in shows. I hope you understand and we can slowly ease back into how things were before.

I sent the spell book you wanted. Oh and I sent an apron, although I'm not hopeful that it won't become singed after you read this letter.

Regards,

England

Belarus crumpled the letter. She would not be deterred by England's so-called logic. Nothing else mattered besides what she felt, and her beating heart told her that he loved her, all he needed was to see it too.

Belarus went to her landline and dialed France's cell phone number.

"Bonjour! Who is it that I am speaking to?"

"Belarus, France I need–."

"Ah Belarus darling, what troubles you?"

Belarus sucked in a breath, having to start over again.

"I need your help. Do you know how to make someone fall in love with you?"

"Well, I personally believe in love at first sight. I have seen my citizens look longingly at one another from afar and have sometimes nudged them in the right direction. So non, I haven't made anyone fall in love with me. I believe it would happen naturally and mutually, as it has before."

"That was useless." Belarus said unenthused.

"Quoi? I gave you the truth, and so beautifully put too! You do not appreciate my wise words of wisdom?"

"It is not going to happen naturally. That is why I need advice."

"Is this with Russia? I-I don't think I can hel–."

"No. It is with England. He says we are not in love but I know what I feel. I just need to convince him."

France laughed, "Ohonhonhon. I was not expecting that. I surely thought– Oh never mind, England is quite a stubborn mule, non?" France made a clicking sound with his tongue. "But then again, so are you. I say, do what you do best Belarus, persévérer. I hope that helped, mon chérie."

"It didn't."

"Eh c'est la vie . I tried. Au revoir belle, I wish you luck."

With that, he hung up.

Belarus went over to the worn book, and frowned. She opened it, and could not read any of the words. It was a spell book but she didn't know how to use it.

But Belarus got an idea, a devilish smile spreading on her face, she would find someone who did.

And then England would fall in love with her and marry her.

00000000000000

Belarus received a call from Russia the next day.

"I-Is it true?" Russia asked her, and she could hear a slight tremor in his voice.

"Is what true, Big Brother?"

"T-that you are in love with England."

"Yes. I was going to tell you, but I guess I forgot." She said, her tone flat.

"Oh, That is most joyous news, little sister! If you could see me, my face has a big smile. France told me and I could not believe it."

"You are taking it well, Big Brother."

"France told me that England thinks he is not in love with you. Would you like me to talk to him?" Russia asked, his voice taking on a sinister undertone.

"No I am fine, but I also have a favor to ask of you. Do you know someone other than England who does magic?"

"Ah yes, I know Moldova's brother. He knows magic, I think his name is Romania. You should talk to him."

"Do you have his number?"

"No I do not. Sorry. If that is all you need, I will be going."

"Do you have Moldova's number instead?"

"I do, da." He said before relaying the nation's number to her. Belarus wrote it down on her hand.

"Dziakuj and bye Big Brother." She said before hanging up.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Criticism Welcome.

Translations:

Eh c'est la vie -As is life

Au revoir belle- Goodbye beautiful

Quoi? - What?

persévérer - persevere

mon chérie - my dear