"What's this?" Kalda asked as Britain put a book in her lap.

"Poetry," he replied seriously.

Kalda scoffed, then laughed.

"You read poetry?" she snickered. "Man, that is just so priceless! Do the others know?"

"I personally don't read it," Britain answered, ignoring her laughing, "but I want you to start reading it. Since you'll be staying with me and not working for me anymore, you will need things to do."

"So you're making me read poetry?" Kalda whined. "I bet not even France reads this stuff!"

"Well, then I guess that this is what will seperate us," Britain explained. "I even made sure that I gave you the romantic ones instead of the boring ones. Now, I expect you to be halfway through that book by the time I finish making lunch for us."

"What?" Kalda cried. "How am I going to get halfway through this? I can't even read poetry more or less understand it!"

"Well, if you quit yelling at me, maybe I'll teach you," Britain calmly answered.

Kalda sighed, flipping to the first page.

"How do I do this?" she asked.

"Well, each poem has a specific rhythm," he explained. "This one's rhythm is AB, AB, CD, CD, and so on. It's called an alternating rhyme poem."

"I guess that makes sense," Kalda reluctantly gave in.

"This next one has a haiku rhythm," he went on, "meaning that it has five syllables, seven syllables, and then five more syllables. Now, this one, is what we poets call an ekphrasis poem. It uses imagery to tell the story."

"What's imagery?" Kalda wondered.

"Glad you asked," he grinned. "Imagery appeals to the five senses, which is our sense of smell, touch, taste, sight, and hearing. It also gives us mental images."

"So like an ocean scene or a forest scene?" Kalda questioned.

"That's the secret," Britain said with a smile.

"So then how do I read poetry?" Kalda inquired.

"Dramatically," he answered.

"Yeah, right," she scoffed.

"I'm serious," Britain stated. "That's how poetry is to be written, as well as read."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"As long as the story and the rhythm makes sense, nothing else has to."

"Well, this one does talk about love," Kalda said, pointing to a poem on the fourth page.

"See? I knew you would like it," he replied. "Now, remember, halfway."

With that, he walked off.

Kalda sighed as she started reading the first poem.

It was talking about love and family, and Kalda suddenly drifted off to what had happened the night before.

My brothers looked so hurt and upset because of me, she realized. I don't know how I'm going to forgive them or myself.

Kalda sighed as she continued to read a different poem.

"Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?" the first line read.

At least Switzerland was nice to me, Kalda remembered with a smile.

He really came through in the end to help her, and Kalda didn't know how she would ever thank him for that.

All of this is so confusing! Kalda thought on. I don't know what to do!

Kalda sighed as she closed her eyes, resting the back of her head on the chair.

"I thought that I told you to read, not sleep," Britain joked.

Kalda slowly opened up her eyes to see Britain standing and grinning in front of her, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I can't focus on this right now. I have...other things on my mind."

"When that happens, the best way is to talk about it," he replied seriously, sitting down in his own chair across from her.

"I feel like this is all my fault," Kalda explained. "I always seem to mess things up, even when I try not to."

"Well, you can't be responsible for the way that your family reacts to things, either," Britain told her wisely.

"Yeah," Kalda replied, "but Romano doesn't get mad for no reason."

"He's a grown man," Britain grinned. "He'll get over it eventually. Besides, he wouldn't yell at you like that if he didn't love you."

"I guess," Kalda agreed, "but I just want them to know that I'm nineteen and old enough to make my own decisions now."

"You can't force them to understand that, Kalda," he answered. "Things like that takes time to adjust to."

"Well, maybe they shouldn't have taken me in at all, then," Kalda admitted. "They would be better off without me."

"That's not true," Britain replied. "You couldn't help the fact that you were an orphan, and believe me when I say that you would be dead if they hadn't taken you in."

"They didn't have to take me in," Kalda calmly argued. "Someone else would have come along. France probably would have taken me in sometime, I believe."

"Your brothers love you a lot more than France would have, or even does, at this point," Britain replied. "I can guarantee you that."

"Yeah," Kalda giggled. "You're probably right about that."

"Although, some of the others wouldn't have been so generous," Britain went on. "They are all as power hungry today as our ancestors were in the past."

"And since I'm a such a tiny thing," Kalda concluded, "the first thing on their list is more land."

"Sometimes, I wonder if history does repeat itself," Britain said softly.

"It does," Kalda assured him with a grin. "All of you prove it."

"Yes," he agreed with a smile. "We do, don't we?"

Kalda stood up to give him a hug, and he did the same.

They stood there for a few minutes, silently enjoying their embrace.

His hugs are so soft, Kalda thought to herself with a smile. It's like he doesn't want to hug me any tighter because he's afraid that I might break.

Kalda took in a breath, exhaling as she caught the scent of something burning.

"Hey, Britain?" she said, grinning even though he couldn't see it.

"Hm?" Britain hummed in answer.

"Your cake is burning," Kalda told him, laughing her head off as he shrieked in horror.

He ran into the kitchen, hoping to save his cake before it was too late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a few pieces of chocolate cake and an afternoon full of lessons on poetry, a knock was heard on the door.

"I got it!" Kalda called, walking up to the door only to have Britain race her there.

"Beat you to it," he grinned.

"Ugh, you're such a gentleman," Kalda said in annoyance.

Britain opened up the door, letting his four friends enter the house.

Kalda backed up, giving them space to walk in.

"What are they here for?" she questioned.

"Well, I thought that we could have dinner together," Britain answered.

Kalda nodded with a smile.

"Sounds great!" she agreed.

After the food was prepared and dished up, the six of them started to eat their supper in silence.

For once, they've shut up, Kalda thought in confusion. Why?

"So, why are you here?" France suddenly questioned, breaking the silence as he looked at Kalda. "Shouldn't you be at home?"

"Yeah, and what happened to your cheek, dude?" America pressed on.

Kalda stayed silent for a few seconds as she softly touched the scar, trying to act like she didn't hear them.

Suddenly, she felt pain on her left calf.

"Ow!" Kalda cringed in pain, seeing that Britain had kicked her. "What was that for?"

"You were being spoken to," he replied. "The proper way is to reply."

"Ugh," she scoffed with an eye roll. "It's a long story that I don't want to talk about right now."

Kalda stood up to walk away, but she stopped halfway to the entryway of the living room.

She sighed, not even bothering to face them.

"I got into a fight at home," she quietly began. "Some...words were exchanged, and I don't know what happened. Romano threw his pocket knife at me out of anger, and I wouldn't have escaped if it weren't for the kindness of Switzerland. Britain allowed me to live here, now, and I don't know how to repay him for that."

"What did you do to make him so angry?" France asked, and Kalda could hear him stand up.

"It wasn't my fault!" Kalda replied, running up to him with tears in her eyes.

She fell to her knees as she continued on,

"I swear it on my life, uncle France!Whatever you do, please don't hit me like you did when I was younger! I beg you, please don't hit me!"

She heard silence above her soft tears, not sure what the others thought of her.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Kalda confessed. "I swear that I didn't! You have to believe me!"

"Well, now we know where the childhood trauma came from," Britain declared, also standing up. "Why did you hit her when she was younger? You are a gentleman, are you not?"

"I didn't hit her zhat hard," France replied, and Kalda could tell that he was still looking at her. "Besides, if you heard zhe reasons, she deserved what she got."

"This time it wasn't my fault!" she told him, looking at his cold, blue eyes. "Please, don't touch me."

France sighed, closing his eyes.

He crouched in front of Kalda as he cupped her face in his hands, drying her tears with his thumbs.

Kalda took her head out of his hands, not wanting his fake affection.

"Stop," she told him, wiping her tears on her own.

"Do you want me to help you or not?" France questioned.

Kalda cried harder as she hugged him, sobbing into his neck.

"I know, Kalda," France said softly, knowing her pain, "I know."

"They hate me!" Kalda sobbed. "They hate me with their lives!"

"I'm sure zhat's not true," he answered.

"It is!" Kalda told him. "I wish that I was never taken in by them at all!"

France let out a small breath, stroking Kalda's hair in a comforting way.

"Family is what binds us all togezher," he stated wisely, "but I see your point. I should have just brought you with me when I had zhe chance."

Kalda sniffled, snuggling into his embrace.

"I love you, uncle France," she replied.

"And I love you, my little niece," France replied, kissing the top of her head.

He helped her stand up, but Kalda still felt weak.

"You should go and get some rest," France instructed.

Kalda nodded as she walked up the stairs, bidding all of them good-night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't think that I have ever seen you that vulnerable before," Britain told France as he dried the dishes while Britain washed them.

America, Russia, and China were playing a card game together in Britain's study, so he and France were alone in the kitchen to clean up after their dinner.

I hope that he doesn't try to propose to me again, Britain thought to himself, putting his guard up while France put his guard down.

"She's my niece," France answered. "I love her."

"Well, I just didn't expect you to hug her while she cried in your arms," Britain admitted. "You're usually not the comforting type when it comes to crying women."

Another reason why I'm always cleaning up your stupid messes, Britain added on in his mind.

"She's a part of my family," France stated, carefully putting a stack of plates into the cupboard. "I need to be zhere for her, just like I need to be zhere for zhose Italians zhat she once called her brozhers."

"Oh, come on, now," Britain calmly replied. "They haven't given up on her even though she's given up on them. They're grown men. They'll get over it soon."

"It's not just zhat," France sighed. "I always knew zhat Romano and his temper would scare her off someday, I just didn't anticipate for it to happen so soon."

Britain silently nodded, France's thoughts seeming to make sense.

"I still think that they will get over it, though," Britain told him. "They're adults like us. Besides, Kalda needs someone to be there for her now."

"You agreed to take her in," France answered. "Why don't you watch her?"

Britain sighed as he heard his other three friends cheer their loudest in his study.

They'll wake Kalda up if they yell any louder, he thought in annoyance.

"Because I'm not a part of your family," he answered, ignoring his thoughts. "I'm just an old friend, or enemy depending on who you ask, to all of you, so it doesn't work out that well."

"Zhen why are you letting her stay here?" France wondered.

"Oh, I don't know," Britain sighed. "She looked pretty upset when Switzerland brought her over, so I couldn't just let him handle her. He already has Lichtenstein to take care of, so he doesn't need another mouth to feed."

"Well, she would be better off with you zhan with me," France admitted. "I would just raise her wrong."

"You hugged her while she cried in your arms," Britain smiled softly. "I mean, she was practically crying at your feet. That must mean something, I would think."

France smiled his nice, soft smile, the smile where he looked calm and serene.

What I wouldn't give to kiss him just this once, Britain thought.

He mentally slapped himself, going back to washing a pan in the sink.

"You want to kiss me," France grinned, nudging Britain's arm with his elbow. "I know zhat look anywhere. Admit it, you want to kiss me."

"I do not," Britain groaned in annoyance. "Just finish drying those plates. I have a bunch of pans for you to dry after you're done with the plates."

"Fine, Mister Grumpypants," France laughed, doing his chore. "You still want to kiss me, zhough."

"For the last time, I hate you."

"You do not."

"Yes, I do. We've been enemies for a very long time."

"We could have been a cute pirate couple back zhen, you and I."

Britain sighed, knowing that there was no use arguing with him.

France turned to put the plates away, so Britain quickly pecked his cheek.

France stopped dead in his tracks as he looked at Britain, and Britain felt super warm.

They were blushing, and Britain didn't know what to say.

"Did you just-" France cut off.

"I think I just did," Britain replied, going back to his own chore. "Now can we please finish working since you got your kiss?"

France immediately pulled Britain into a more passionate kiss, and Britain literally dropped the pan and dish rag that were in his hands onto the floor.

France's hands ran through Britain's hair as Britain's wet hands ran through the other blonde's hair, and Britain hadn't felt this amazing before.

Then, he came back into reality.

What am I doing? Britain thought to himself.

He pulled away from France, his face getting even warmer.

"I-I'm sorry," Britain stuttered, his voice cracking out of nervousness. "I-I can't do that ever again."

France just smiled, hugging Britain from the side as Britain started to re-wash the pan that he had dropped with a new dish rag that he had grabbed from the drawer.

"It's okay to love me, you know," France grinned.

"And I still hate you," Britain laughed, sharing another passionate kiss with France.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kalda woke up the next morning like usual, changing into a dress and walking down the stairs.

Kalda suddenly heard the faint sound of violin music, along with some other instruments, coming down the hall and passed Britain's study.

She followed the sound, and it led her to a door that was slightly cracked open.

Is Austria here? Kalda wondered, hearing a piano playing. No, no. Britain doesn't socialize with the Germanic States, does he?

Kalda heard violins and a piano, and she secretly feared that her brothers had come for her.

Veneziano and Romano were always talented in the violin, while Seborga and Austria played the piano together.

Kalda remembered listening to the four men play the instruments together, letting Hungary teach her how to dance to their music.

It was a childhood memory that Kalda had never forgotten.

Perhaps Austria isn't here at all, Kalda added on, breaking her own thoughts.

She calmed herself down, not wanting to look like a nervous mess.

She gently pushed the door open a little more, just enough so that she could see inside the room, and Kalda was immediately shocked by what was in front of her.

Britain and America were playing the violin together, France was playing the piano, China was playing a small harp, a lyre Kalda supposed, and Russia was playing the flute.

They're so wonderful together, Kalda thought with a small smile. I guess anyone really can make music.

Kalda slowly crept into the room, wanting to listen to their music some more. 

She sat down in a chair in the room, admiring the scene.

Suddenly, the room reminded Kalda of a dream that she had a long time ago.

This is the same dance studio that Maria danced in the night I first dreamt about her! Kalda realized, looking around the dance studio. This has to be a coincidence!

"You guys sound so wonderful!" Kalda said happily, ignoring her thoughts.

They stopped playing, surprised by her sudden presence.

"Oh, good morning, Kalda," Britain replied with a smile, putting his violin and bow down at his sides. "What brings you in here?"

"Your music," Kalda answered with her award winning smile. "You sounded so lovely when you played together."

"Well, you are welcome to listen as we continue on, then," Britain offered, still smiling.

"She could sing, too," France suggested with a grin.

"Sing?" Kalda chuckled nervously. "Heh, heh. Sorry, but I only know one song, and I haven't even sung that one in a long time."

Kalda's cheeks suddenly burned, and she didn't know if it was out of embarrassment or excitement.

"I...actually don't know how," she admitted sadly. "No one's ever taught me before."

"Well, it's actually quite easy to learn," Britain told her. "America learned all of the notes and how to read sheet music at the age of seven."

"Austria told me once, when I was much younger, that learning something like that takes time and practice," Kalda replied, her voice shaking a little. "Someone mastering those things at that age is unheard of."

Although, I knew the whole A, B, C, D, E, F, G, D scale at the age of eight, so that must have been no different, Kalda thought to herself.

"Well, he was quite the quick learner, I'll admit," Britain answered with a proud grin.

"And the notes and sheet music were surprisingly quite easy to learn, anyway," America grinned as well.

Kalda drifted off to the first time that she had heard Austria play the piano all by himself, and not just herself repeating the scale over and over again with each visit.

She remembered that the music was sad, but beautiful at the same time.

Kalda also remembered the music as clear as day, the music getting stuck in her head quite often.

She had asked Austria if he could teach her, but they never saw each other as often as practice like that required.

Kalda never saw Austria much at all, really, now that she thought about it.

It was rare that they ever met up, and when she did see him, he pretended like he didn't know Kalda or her brothers at all.

"Do you want to learn how to sing?" France asked, bringing Kalda out of her thoughts.

Goodness, Kalda sighed. I must have spaced out for a while.

Kalda didn't need to give a second thought about her answer, though.

"Yes," she said with a smile as she stood up, "I would like to learn."