Our Little Secret. [NO MORE UPDATES SORRY]

Prologue.

Britain sat at the desk. His eyes looked onto the paperwork in front of him.

Today was boring for the man. No reasons why. It just was. It was a Monday afterall.

The door behind him clicked open and a familiar face stepped in.

It was the good ol' king of frogs.

"Britain, you know how you cousin has...."

France paused trying to think of a light way to put it.

"Kicked the bucket?" He finishes.

"Mhm?"

"Well, there's a new country taking over today and I was wondering if you'd like to come with me,"

Britain got up and grabbed his bag.

"Sure. I'll go. I'll come with you,"

They walked out of the building and quickly to the station. They had to catch an international train just so they could make it to the former Russian Empire's land.

The entire way there was a silent ride as Britain just stared out of the window.

The valleys were still bruised by war and yellow in colour. The mountains and lakes gave way to shadows and the shimmer of the sun forming to create a seemingly perfect balance of light and dark.

The further they travelled, the lighter the ground became. The fluffy, white texture seen on clouds blanketed the once grassy terrain.

Halfway into the trip, certain voices crept into Britain's head.

I know exactly what is wrong with this place.

What?

There's snow EVERYWHERE, aye?

How is that a problem?

I don't like the wee snow making my boots wet.

'Course you don't. You don't like anything.

Shut it you.

Fight me Scot.

Trust me, if I could, I bloody hell would.

Shut up all of you. Please.

...

That conversation is a regular in this brain space. No need to question it.

The journey soon ended. They had arrived at their destination.

Moscow.

The city was lightly illuminated by low-hanging lamps connected to houses and walls.

The two walked through the city and to where there was an abundance of other countries gathered from far and wide, most of them being colonies.

France and Britain stood next to America and spoke about the whole thing.

"Heya Brit, France. How have you guys been?"

"We've been recovering from the war still. It's been going good," France answered for the both of them as it was the honest truth.

"Brit, how ya been holding up? I mean losing family is terrible and I wouldn't wish that on anyone,"

Britain tensed at the mention of family. They were cousins only through their respective royalty. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Instead of answering rudely, Britain put on his best smile and said he was ok.

Suddenly, everyone hushed eachother like at school when the class makes a thing out of the teacher waiting for the students to be quiet.

Britain looked over to where someone was pointing as a tall man walked towards them. His hair was mostly tucked into his ushanka and he wore a beige trench coat. His strut beared hints of confidence and belonging. Something that alot of others lack.

The man walked up to the huge group and cleared his throat lightly.

"Hello I am the United Soviet Socialist Republics or just the Soviet Union for short. It is great to meet you all,"

And for a moment, Britain felt his heart skip a beat for the first time.