Dear Francis,
This is a letter for you. For no one else but you.
The first time I saw you I was scared. I hadn't met another country aside from my brothers, and that hadn't gone well. So I hid, in the leaves.
However, you found me and dragged me out, laughing. I was stunned. I think that's when I realised you were different.
Later, I saw you when you broke down. When my people burned her. I think it's time to say that it was against my will that they did that. When they found out I did magic they tried to burn me. Hear that, frog? I revealed myself, feeling that a world where you hated me and loved someone else wasn't good. Damn flames did burn me but of course, I couldn't die.
Then, I realised I loved you.
It was hard to deal with, and I didn't know what to do. I was terrified. I was nearly freaking out when you asked me to marry you – and broken hearted when I realised you only wanted to save yourself. You didn't care…You probably would have married Russia if it had saved you.
Now, I write this, to tell you the United Kingdom is being dissolved. Know what that means? It means I write this letter on my deathbed to tell you that even though you are a git, I still love you.
Don't cry, but laugh. Laugh as long as you can, dearest.
Arthur Kirkland, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.