Confidentials.

"I swear to god, Britain, if you don't pull yourself together, I'm going to leave you here!"

Despite his threat, France didn't move, but stood leant on one leg with his arms crossed, bags at his feet, his fellow plane passengers filing out of the terminal around him. Perched on the deliberately uncomfortable plastic seats with his head in his hands, breathing deeply, was Britain.

"I will never understand your apprehension to flying." France muttered, a little embarrassed as people kept looking at them "How on earth did you invade over 90% of countries when you don't fly?"

"By sea!" Britain barked, stomach turning "And 'apprehension' is the wrong word!"

"So what is the right word?" France asked, although truth be told he didn't really care.

"Aversion...no, hate! Despise, loathe, dislike, at odds with, not fond off, would rather not-"

"Oui, oui, your vocabulary is vast and pointless. Now get up, you're wrinkling your suit."

Britain glared at him, still green around the gills. He grabbed his suit bag and threw it at France. The burly German guards shot them a look that said they weren't going to put up with their shit, and France decided not to play, simply picking the bag up.

"Prussia's waiting for us in the arrivals lounge." he reminded Britain, grabbing his arm to pull him up "Recompose yourself in the car."

With a groan, he allowed himself to be pulled up, but dragged his feet the entire way through customs, grumbling about his stomach. Since taking so long to get to the gate was kind of suspicious, they were immediately pulled aside to have their bags inspected.

"Business or pleasure?" the customs inspector asked as he inspected their passports, his colleague looking through their bags.

"Neither." Britain groaned "We're here for a wedding."

"Ja?" the inspector gave them both the once over, blushing in awkwardness "Well, you make a good looking couple, congratulations."

"What, no!" Britain spluttered, ears going scarlet.

"O ho ho, don't be so shy, cherie." France started to tease immediately, slapping the smaller man on the arse "We don't have to hide our love now, we are getting married!" He turned to the inspector with a sly smile "The bride, he is the blushing type."

When Prussia convinced the guards to let him go to customs (using his brothers diplomatic privilege to pull rank on them) to see what was taking the two so long, he found Britain with his hands around France's neck, face completely ablaze, while the Frenchman was laughing his head off, the guards completely at a loss of what to do.

"Hey, you losers!" he called to them "Cut out the old married couple routine you're doing and get in the damn car! There is nothing awesome about parking tickets!"

"So you and eyebrows will be staying at my place." Prussia continued to talk as they drove down the autobahn "West's place has been taken over by the Mediterranean lot, so he's taking refuge with us too."

"Mon ami, when did you get your own place? You never told me this!"

"Ja, I was planning to have an awesome home-warming party to christen my awesome new house with awesomeness, but then West and Italy announced their engagement. As best man, it would have been totally un-awesome of me steal their limelight, even if my new awesome house really is just that awesome."

"Please, stop talking."

"What's wrong with you, Eyebrows?" Prussia chuckled, looking at him in the rear-view mirror.

"Ignore him." France told him "He's grumpy because he doesn't like to fly."

Prussia burst out laughing, declaring that to be 'awesome.' Britain wondered whether or not Prussia actually knew what 'awesome' meant, or if he was just so used to using the word that it had become like blinking. In the front passenger seat, France used the rear-view mirror to preen.

"Oh," England remembered "Prussia, we didn't bring any presents. I wanted to bring a terrine, but France was against it. Is there anything Germany and Italy particularly want?"

"What's a terrine?" Prussia asked.

"You put soup in it." France told him as he pulled his hair into a ponytail.

"Sounds gay."

"Well, you brother is marrying a man."

Taking a moment for the thought to click in his head, Prussia burst out laughing again.

"You're right!" he declared "That's awesome! We'll buy a terrine and fill it with manly beer! West will love it!"

"Mon dieu, don't be a pig!"

Prussia's house wasn't quite what one would expect of the excitable German – it was traditional and practical, with clean straight lines and a well-kept garden, not too far away from where his younger brother lived. Britain didn't know Prussia well enough to know if it was his own habit, or if the place was so clean because his brother was staying, but it rather pleasant, with a fresh breeze blowing over the grounds. A couple of big hairy dogs ran about happily in the large walled garden, running up to the car with their tails wagging as the trio got out.

"What a pleasant place!" France complimented as they got their bags out of the car "Es Tres Magnifique!"

"Thanks, Franny! Its maximum awesomeness surprises even me!"

Prussia turned to England with an expectant look, but he was too busy petting the dogs to notice for a moment.

"Yes, it's very nice." He agreed "Your garden is especially verdant for this time of year. Do you have a gardener?"

"Nah, I do it myself." Prussia bragged "That's why it's so awesome! I have crazy spare time now that I'm no longer a country. You should try it."

Gardening, or not being a country? Any wry asides were forgotten as the front door opened. Austria walked out, back stiff like he had a broom handle up his... back as stiff as ever, anyway, adjusting his glasses in the light.

"Ah." He said as he noticed them "You're here. Fantastic."

He strolled past France without a second glance, going right up to England.

"Hungary wants to talk to you." He reported "When you're free. She's a little stressed on account of all this wedding mess, so you best not keep her waiting."

"Where are you going, Mozart?" Prussia asked.

Austria huffed angrily, putting his hands on his hips and swishing his head around.

"That idiot Romano completely ruined my music list for the reception!" he whined "I will not have euro-pop playing at Germany's wedding! I am going to find some better music, even better than my last list, or beat that tasteless Italian to death with a copy of Beethoven's 5th symphony! Either way, I must go out."

"Ja, ja, have fun with that."

Austria got into his car without another word, the three watching as he pulled away, not quite sure how to react.

"Don't get lost." Prussia finally quipped, grabbing a couple of their bags.

France and England followed Prussia inside the house – with Austria and Hungary staying here too the house was full to bursting, so they would have to share a bed. Britain wasn't too happy about it, especially as France gave him his trademark perverted chuckle and suggestive eye-brow wriggling as they got to the bedroom. Prussia suggested Britain should go and find Hungary right away so that he and France could catch up without their filters on – and a gentleman wouldn't want to be around for that, that was for sure. Wondering the clean, organised halls looking for the lady country, the first person Britain found was a very pale looking Germany, ambling about the lounge in a daze.

"Hello, Germany." He greeted "Getting excited?"

"Wa?!"Germany startled, as if he hadn't noticed him, eyes wide "Oh, England... When did you arrive?"

"Just now. You okay?"

Germany smiled gingerly, eyes troubled.

"Yes. I'm fine. Thank you." He insisted.

He stood up suddenly, startling Britain a little, wiping his hands on his trousers

"I have to, uh… I have to go." he said "Lots to do…"

"I'm sure." Britain assured.

"Okay…bye."

He brushed past Britain and down the hall, wandering off. That was a hell of a case of the pre-wedding nerves – he had known other grooms get a little funny before the big day, but he had never seen a case that bad. Poor boy... Britain resumed his search, finally find Hungary in the kitchen in her apron, icing a large cake. It was an enormous multi-layered thing, swathed in white icing that was overdone and elegant in a way Britain knew only European's to be capable of. Not wanting to sneak up on her, he rapped his knuckles on the door to get her attention. Sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, she had been concentrating so much on her task that she even had icing on her nose.

"Oh, Britain!" she greeted in her usual happy-go-lucky manner "Welcome! Did you see Austria?"

"Yes, actually. He all but ordered me to come see you."

She laughed, putting down the icing bag and wiping her hands on her apron.

"I swear, he's being so pernickety about this wedding, it's as if we were getting married all over again! Although this is Germany and Italy we're talking about, so I can understand." She clapped her face in her hands, blushing "I feel like my daughter is marrying my nephew. It's lovely!"

Britain couldn't help but be touched by her joy.

"Yes, I'm happy for them too." He admitted.

Hungary's smile faded, replaced by a serious expression Britain couldn't read. She marched forward suddenly, pinning the small man against the counter.

"Which brings me to why I want to talk to you." She said seriously.

"Wha…?"

Britain thought it over for a minute, trying to think about what she could be so serious over. Had he done something to piss her off lately? Did she think he was going to try and interfere in the ceremony or something?

"You have nothing to worry about." He assured her "What Germany and I had is long, long over! Why, it's been centuries! I really am happy for him and Italy."

"That's not it."

She looked at him closely, examining his every feature. Britain wasn't quite sure how to react - his own mother hadn't even inspected him so intently.

"How are you?" she asked.

"What?"

She backed off a little, her eyes softening.

"Prussia told me." She admitted "About you depression."

"He… how did he know?"

"France."

"Of-fucking-course." he grumbled, ready to spit venom.

"Don't be mad, Britain." She urged, gently placing a hand on his shoulder "He had a good reason to tell me."

"Reason being?" he snapped, pulling his shoulder away.

She just smiled patiently, lowering her hand.

"He thought you might like to talk to someone who knows how you're feeling."

"What?"

Still smiling, Hungary gestured to the kitchen table, inviting Britain to sit down. She sat across from him, moving her baking bits out of the way before folding her hands neatly in her lap.

"It took me a long time to realise something was wrong was me." She said softly "At first, I thought I was just having some bad days – the weather was bad, I burned dinner, I was hormonal... you know, life things. Before I knew it, I was spending all day in bed, avoiding all my friends, bursting into tears for no reason…" she looked sadly into her own memories "I had such dark thoughts, felt like I was worthless. I didn't believe anyone cared for me, that I was completely alone, that they wouldn't even notice if I just disappeared. Nothing I did was right. Every little mistake... Everything was overwhelming. I couldn't…" she looked back at Arthur "Ringing any bells with you, Britain?"

He couldn't respond. Her description was dead on.

"Prussia realised something was wrong even before I did. He sat me down with Austria and we talked it out. That's when I realised how bad I had been feeling. I wasn't just sad. There was no name for it back then, so understanding what was wrong with me was difficult."

"No name… how long ago are we talking about?"

Hungary smiled.

"A gentleman never asks a lady her age!" she scolded playfully, although her smile faded slightly "Austria has been my rock through it all. People think he's self-centred, but they don't know how sweet he really is. He went with me to the doctors every time: when I finally got a diagnosis, he held my hand the whole time. I still have days when I just can't cope, and he really comes through for me. Although it's been a while since I had an 'episode'..."

"I had no idea." Britain said humbly "You always seemed to be so happy."

"Why would you? People with mental illness don't look any different from anyone else. You and I have never been really close, even when we weren't at war with each other. Trying to be happy was the hardest part of all, to pretend everything was okay."

"Ms. Hungary…"

"Now, I know I can't do much for you." She told him "But I've been dealing with this longer than you have, so this lady knows what she's talking about! I don't want you to feel like you're alone, because that was always the worst part for me. Anything you want to know, anything you want to say... I'm here for you."

"The only thing I want to know is how to get rid of it." Britain told her bluntly, feeling hot behind the ears in the face of her earnestness "So that I can stop feeling sorry for myself and feel like me again!"

She smiled sadly again.

"You don't 'get rid of it.'" She explained simply "There's no magic cure. You just learn how to cope, in your own ways. And you won't start feeling like 'you' again until you stop denying the problem and take possession of it. Talking therapy really helps me during my dark times, but I know Estonia prefers medication-"

"Estonia? Really?"

"Depression affects more people than you would think. There are over 200 nations, Britain, did you think you were the only one?"

"I… didn't really think about it." He admitted.

"That's alright." She said, placing a hand on his shoulder as she got up to put the kettle on "I'll do whatever I can for you, but you must promise me something in return – make sure to take your pills until you find something that works for you. And don't underestimate how important having someone beside you is going to be, even if it is France."

With a chorus of over-the-top laughter, Prussia and France fell into the kitchen. Prussia, aware of the situation, immediately froze, looking ready to turn tables and run, until Hungary smiled at him, letting him know they were finished, and went to make tea.

Surrounded by Germans – and France – Britain was happy to go to bed and sleep off his jetlag (yet another downside to flying). His happy sleep was disturbed very abruptly by strong hands taking him by the shoulders, hauling him up to sitting position and shaking him awake.

"Mein got, wake up, Britain!" Germany hissed.

"What? What?! I say, knock that off!"

Britain angrily slapped his hands away. Who picks a fight this time in the morning?! Germany immediately clapped a hand over his mouth and 'shushed' him, gesturing to the still sleeping France beside him. How light-sleeper France hadn't woken up when the far heavier Germany clamboured onto the bed, he didn't know. England sighed, and Germany released his mouth.

"What is it, Germany?" he asked quietly "Its 2:30 in the morning, and you're getting married later, remember?"

"Britain, you and I have been both good friends for a very long time." Germany said in his usual earnest way, grabbing England's hand "And I value and respect you opinion, both as a man and as a nation, so I must ask you!"

"Uh… okay…?"

This was weird.

"Am I making the right decision?" he fretted "Is getting married the right thing to do? What if I'm making a terrible mistake? Have I walked into this too quickly?"

Arthur could've laughed, if not for the jetlag. With a smile, he pulled his hand back and bobbed Germany on the top of the head.

"Of course you are, Kraut!" he assured "How long have you and Italy been together? Nearly 100 years?"

"Ja," he admitted "But we weren't always lovers-"

"And didn't you have this exact same crisis when you did become lovers?" Britain reminded him "Didn't you call me in the middle of the night to ask me if it was morally defensible for you to love another man?"

"I…yes…"

"And didn't everything work out for the best?"

"…Ja. Ja, it did."

Germany was starting to look embarrassed, body language relaxing as he sat back.

"Pre-wedding jitters are perfectly natural." Britain assured "Getting married is a big step, afterall. But if anyone can handle it, you can!"

"Really? You really think so?"

"Of course, would I lie to you? Your relationship with Italy may be a complete mystery to me, but it's clear you love each other."

"Ja, I do love him." Germany confirmed, looking a little comforted.

"Then what more is there to say, old chap?" he finished, patting Germany on the shoulder "This time tomorrow, all these concerns will seem silly. You'll see. Big day nerves, I promise."

"Britain, I… I feel better." he admitted, and he did look relieved "Thank you. I'll let you go back to sleep."

He got off the bed a little awkwardly, rocking it significantly.

"Sorry to disturb you."

He left the room, closing the door softly. Almost immediately, before his mind could properly process what has just happened, France grabbed Britain's head and pushed him back into lying position.

"Fucking Germany, two in the fucking morning, if it wasn't 'is wedding day I'd fucking kill 'im!" he muttered angrily, pinning Britain to the bed by putting his hand around his shoulder "'Ow is 'e Prussia's brother, I ask you!"

Britain couldn't help but chuckle, soon being soothed back to sleep by the steady rhythm of France's breathing.

So Hungary also has depression. That may not go down well with some people. I'm actually a Hungary fan, and I wanted a sympathetic character that Britain could talk to seriously. I also like to think that Austria really treasures her... And those of you wondering what Englands relationship with Germany is all about - study some history! Britains royal family was considered to be more German until WWI (King George was Kaiser Wilhelms cousin). Please look forward to chapter 4!