[The letter is written very obviously on hotel stationary, surprisingly for such a lazy nation his calligraphy is long and elegant. Even the letter seems to have been rehearsed several times before this final copy was made.]
Margaret,
I don't blame you for not wanting to see me in this way, I don't think any of the nations do. I won't lie that it was disappointing not to see you before you returned home, but I understand your reasoning. It is better to be in England's good graces if you are trying to become independent. I know you'll do it.
I do not blame you for what has happened to me, only England. It may sound selfish but I cannot help but feel some bitterness toward my land being given away like a trophy to such an undeserving nation. But I'm not going to trouble you with that, it's one of my own issues.
West wishes you well, he's worrying incessantly over the dogs at home. I think he likes them more than people, especially Blackie the huge labrador that loves to chew. There are very few things here now that come easy with the debt we have to pay. But we'll manage.
Merry Christmas to you as well, I hope this gets there long before then. If not, have a drink with Francis for me if he comes to visit.
Somehow, Gilbert, I was expecting your writing to look at least marginally less feminine than mine, not moreso.
Jokes aside, you don't know how relieved I am that you don't hold a grudge against me for your fate. If there had been any way I could have changed those decisions, I would have. The division of your lands, that sort of punishment isn't acceptable under any circumstances. I don't know why England and USA ever thought that would be fair.
Yesterday was the first big snowfall of the season here in central Ontario*. It's so beautiful; I wish you could see it. My bear - do you remember Kumarie? she used to bite you - was out and rolling around in the flakes like a cub. I usually only bother checking the post once a week, which of course leads to disappointment when my joy over seeing a letter from you is immediately flattened by not one, but two contrary letters from contrary family members of mine. France has decided not to visit during the holidays this year and Ontario has enlisted Manitoba's help in arguing with me about a city's name they changed while I was overseas. Ontario may only be a few decades younger than me, and Manitoba, not much more than that, but I feel like a human mother fed up because her children are spoiled brats.
To top it all off, I don't think England or USA are invited to Christmas dinner at Ireland's this year, which means we may not have the dinner at all. My only consolation is that this December 25th will beat the last two, if nothing else.
Kindly give my affections (or at least warm wishes) to Germany and the dogs.
Looking forward to hearing from you soon, Margaret
[At the bottom of the page, there's another asterisk and an arrow, indicating he should turn the page over. On the back is a labelled map of her lands, nine provinces and two territories, with a star where her house is, and Newfoundland indicated, too, for good measure. She's not sure if he actually has a proper map of North America or not.]
Thanks, I'm glad you take such joy in pointing out how entertaining my girlish handwriting is. Remember I'm fathoms older than you, does that make me a cradle robber?
It would be hard for me to hold a grudge against you, Maggie. But nor you brother nor England are in my greatest opinion currently. But things are starting to heal, even if the poverty here continues to climb.
I remember your bear, I think I still have the scars from my ankle from where she latched onto me and refused to let go. Your snow was always gorgeous, if I remember, thick and white in huge blankets. It's not so much like that here, a bit of snow that just covers enough to hide things. It's virtually gone in the cities only lurking in little corners. I heard about Francis, he came to visit nearly a week ago brandishing a letter from you like it was guilded in gold. (I will never let on how much your letters brighten up the winter months here to him especially) Yet, I have a feeling he knows I enjoy them.
I approve of Ireland's decision, even if that does cut out a family gathering. I'm sure she'll make time to see you, she usually does and often talks fondly of you when she visits or writes. I hope your Christmas goes well though, I have a feeling West and I will end up with Austria and Hungary again. Not a bad thing but Rodderich needs to keep his mouth shut, hopefully we'll actually get to eat supper this year.
I will give your affections to them, I don't think West knows quite what to do and the dogs are oblivious as always.
Hope this letter finds you well,
Gilbert
[Enclosed is a photo of Gilbert with his stupidly happy grin on, in civilian clothes, hugging a burly German Shephard and having a Black Lab lying at his feet. Ludwig is in the far right corner laughing at his brother with a smaller mixbreed lying in his lap]
I think if we go by apparent age instead of real one, we can pretend you're not a cradle robber. Not that I'm terribly inclined to care, either way. Your letters - and that terribly sweet photograph that I shall treasure forever (thank you sincerely) - make me smile far too much for me to wish them to stop.
Christmas is passed by now; I ended up staying here and entertaining my provinces and territories and Newfoundland for a week. Ireland sent us all new hats, though, and I plan to make a crossing to visit her by summer. I'm almost loathe to say it, but my economy is doing better than it was before the war. More of my brother interjecting himself into things, but my people are happier, not to mention more patriotic, two things it warms my heart to see. Even if I'm still not getting familial support for my independence, my people love me. That will have to do.
Everything here is covered in snow now, from the northernmost islands right down to the border. I took a train east for the New Year - and Cape Breton, visiting her brother in Halifax, mocked me for having a mystery beau until I had to retire upstairs to write you this - and everything is snowy here. I got a letter from British Colombia and she says it's snowy over there. I seem to be comprised entirely of snow and freezing these days. It's a good thing you're not around for this, actually. I don't think you'd enjoy hugging a block of ice.
Your bruder and dogs seem happy. Keep making them laugh, ᓃᒋᒧᐢ. I know they will appreciate you all the more for it.
I'd say going by my human age would be more appropriate, then we'd only be a few years in difference. I'm glad I could make you smile and I apologize for this letter being late.
I'm glad to hear that you're doing so well. Having your people love you is one of the few greatest feelings you can have as a nation. But, Now I can say why this letter is so late but I've managed to get a nasty cold. I'm sure Francis told you all about it. It seems your brothers troops introduced the spanish flu here and it's devastated my already poverty stricken land. Done more damage than the war did they think, it's not a pretty thing.
Things are melting here now, easter's right around the corner but I have a feeling you're still blanketed in thick white snow, right? I think I could handle hugging a block of ice, I'd just have to wear mittens.
Maybe I will see you in the summer if you come to visit Europe,
I'm so sorry to hear about the influenza; I wasn't sure how hard it had affected you and your bruder. I remember coming down with that just before the battle at Amiens last year. I felt just as sick as the decades France gave my people smallpox, which had me laid up in bed for days on end. Laid up in bed for days on end in a war zone is not exactly what I needed, as I'm sure you can imagine.
You are both so strong in character, though, I should hope you'll be recovering by the time this reaches you.
There is still plenty of snow here, of course. The west is starting to thaw out and it's nearly time for New Brunswick's typical spring flooding. Switzerland only left the continent a week ago, actually. He'd been visiting a skiing community he established in the mountains. What's more, I think he actually remembered my name this time. That was a first for him. All in all, things could be much worse. They seem to be improving all the time, especially when I get news from you.
Affectionately, Margaret
p.s.: I know for a fact England will pitch a fit if he catches me trying to visit you in your home. However he can't say anything about my visiting France after I've been to Ireland's. If you can get there for the end of May, I'll meet you. - M.
Well it seems the flu has passed for the most part. Being stuck in bed for nearly a month was not what I wanted to go through once again. I've been spending too much time in bed and West says I'm getting fat. He would know, we're both not getting any heavier for all the sleeping we seem to do lately.
Vash said something about a town his immigrants there had created, I'm glad to hear it's going well. He's stopped by a few times to make sure everything is alright. Liz has been asking about you, she hopes that the two of you can meet on friendlier terms at some point. I think she's been snooping and reading my letters after I've fallen asleep from some of the medications the stupid doctors have me on for pain.
I hope you can keep a handle on your wild weather, things here are much the same. Sunny and slightly cool, but the mountains help with that. West and I have moved more to the southeast while we're trying to work things out. Makes it easier for everyone to routinely babysit us. I'm getting tired of this occupation honestly.
Lovingly,
Gilbert.
P.s. I should be able to do that, Francis wouldn't mind seeing me again, nor you. It would be a good cover for the both of us in the end I think. ~G
I'm so glad to hear the flu has passed. I've been worrying about you, you know. Not that I can picture you ever being fat, of course. Well-padded and just as handsome as ever, perhaps, but not fat.
I'm also glad people (other than the usual nosy bastards) are looking after you. You may not like that pain medication, but you know it's for the best. Just like healing humans need rest, so do our kind. As for Liz, I would love to meet with her properly. I'll be the first to admit I always admired her in stories. And, no, I'm not just saying that because it's likely she'll read this after you. I really do mean that. If she can find a reason to visit papa as well, I'm sure he wouldn't mind hosting another for a holiday. Provided she doesn't interfere with my getting to spend a few minutes with you, mind you; I'm not sure I could be trusted to be perfectly friendly in a situation like that.
Come this time next week, I'll be on a boat from Halifax to Áth Cliath, a little bit closer to you. In the meanwhile, Kumarie and I are spending time visiting New Brunswick. Anna did not tell me in advance that she had invited the islands over for a few weeks. That's three women with a nose for gossip as keen as Ireland's in one house to catch me smiling over your letter! France's interrogations into my love life are not as thorough! After some questioning, they learned my potential suitor was not, in fact, of my nationality, at which point Ruth - better known as Prince Edward Island, or that one that was contrary during confederation - hauled out an atlas to start guessing countries and kingdoms are random. I only bring this up because the last two she named were Finland and Lithuania; she's getting closer.
And I am starting to seriously miss you.
Be well, ᓃᒋᒧᐢ. I'll see you where I saw you last, although I know the terms will be so much brighter.
I'm glad you think that I'd never get fat. Apparently Liz did read your letter after I did and has announced she's coming with me to visit Francis because she doesn't believe I'm well enough to travel on my own. It's a ruse really, I'm fine to travel on my own, she just wants to see you I think. But I whole heartedly agree that I might have to have Francis distract her if she interferes with us having some time together.
I'll have Francis redirect this letter to Ireland then, it should be waiting for you by the time you arrive. Post in Europe travels much faster than it does overseas. But I have to laugh at your provinces, I didn't think I was that mysterious. Ruth will have to try a bit harder if she's going to try to figure out its me, if she does at all. Not that I mind but I enjoy keeping this quiet on an international scale.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? I miss you more each day I have to lie here and stare at the oil painting of the black forest. Reminds me of you and that time we went hunting and you scared the crap out of me riding that moose. I'll never trust those things.
I hope this letter sees you well, liebe. Send Ireland warm wishes and tell her not to let England anywhere near the stove. I cannot wait to see you.
Lovingly,
Gilbert.
P.s. - I've been wondering what the squiggles are in your letters. It doesn't look like any alphabet I know, is it one of your native languages? ~G.
Your letter was indeed waiting for me at Ireland's. However, she'd identified the calligraphy on the front as yours and added that knowledge to catching me smiling to know you'd written back. She didn't pester, but you know how wise she is. I've asked her to keep her suspicions to herself and I trust her to do that much. I suppose we'll just have to trust Brigid with it the same way we've been trusting Francis. I'm so very sorry, especially if you get a letter from her inquiring as to your intentions with me. (North Ireland doesn't seem to be talking to her much these days and my brother is still on her hate list from the war; her attention fixates very easily on me being her baby.)
With seeing you (and Liz, of course!) only a few weeks away, I have to admit I'm getting impatient. I will never tire of visiting this great green isle of my auntie's, of course, but being enthused about planned outings with my uncles is hard when you're so close. My heart has definitely grown fonder of you in our time apart, although I wasn't sure at first that that was possible.
I'd forgotten about that time with the moose, to be honest, although it makes me laugh to remember. You Europeans and your aversion to nature will always be both baffling and endearing.
England is a decidedly non-topic in this house still, but I'll pass on your warm wishes. I do hope everyone in your household is doing well, yourself included.
Breá liom tú. I'll be seeing you soon.
Margaret
p.s.: ᐁᐦᐁ. ᐃᑐᐊᐧᕁ ᑖᓂᑕ ᐅᐦᒋ ᐁᐧᒥᐢᑎᑰᓰᓈᕁ ᒥᐢᑳᑲ ᓂᔭ. (Or, rather, yes. It's one of mine.)
I had a feeling she would, either that or mistake mine for Austria's, I've been told our handwriting is similar (it's so not he's a giant fluff) in looking neat. I have already received a letter from her and reassured her, if she took my words with any sense. I doubt it, she tends to like to think linearly, crazy woman.
I'm glad that you can say that you've grown fonder of me. I can't really say how much I've missed you over the months. They seem too long compared to the few days we spent together in that old farm house.
You would've forgotten about the moose, I haven't seen a wild one of those in a very long time. I think the last time is when I had to go visit Norway, before that time with you of course.
I can't see why England wouldn't be a deadly topic. That's all I'll say on that issue, sorry liebe. Everyone is fine and one of my dogs will be coming with me. Apparently I can't leave Rot to sit here with me gone, he's become attached to me since I've been home(He's the big German Shephard in the photo I sent you.) and he's friendly despite his bark.
Francis isn't fond of dogs because of their fur and shedding but I don't think he'll complain this time.
Ich liebe dich, I will meet you at Francis'
Gilbert.
p.s. you and your odd alphabets. Love you anyway. ~G.
I've been away from you for all of a week and already I have turned into a sullen child, wanting to be back in your arms. It isn't fair, you know, to love somebody and have to spend your time so far away from them.
Give my affection to Hungary, though. It really was a pleasure spending time with the pair of you and getting to know her better. I hope your trips home went well. I'm only to the coast yet, but that's two days fewer it will take this to get to you. I suppose I'm just that needy.
Liz has told me I have the maturity of a child who wasn't allowed to have ice cream before supper; since we left Francis' villa. I'm already wanting Christmas here so I can have an excuse to visit you and press kisses just under your ear that make you smile and laugh so musically.
I will give your affection to her, she was very pleased to meet you and spend time with you. I think she's looking forward to meeting you again sometime in the future. I apologize for the crinkled state of this letter, Rot decided to steal it and sleep on it and Blackie carried it around like a prize before I found it.
You know, I can nearly pretend I don't miss you so much it hurts provided I'm not hearing from you. But the moment I get a letter from you, there goes my heart, hurting all over again. Even if the letter is crumpled, the ink is runny, and one corner is missing because the deer got to my mail before I did this morning. I sincerely hope there wasn't anything important in that corner.
All that said, please never stop writing.
My brother visited last week, the first I've heard from him since November. He only stayed over two nights, but it was long enough to make me worry that things have changed forever between us. We hardly spoke and neither night did he wake me with his nightmares. I miss him in a very different way than I miss you. I'm used to him being near and now I feel like our only nearness is the physical border, not our hearts or minds.
Probably not, and if there was then I guess it'll forever be lost to the wilderness of the deer.I miss you incredibly so, but your letters always brighten my days when I get one. Especially lately, there are political mumblings about elections to try to pull us out of so much debt. I doubt anything could pull us out of the millions of marks we owe.
I'm sorry to hear about your brother. I know the feeling and went through that while I was... rebuilding West from the Holy Roman Empire into Germany. We were estranged and he rarely talked to me, especially through his teen years where all we did was fight. But America will come around. Your his big sister and soon he'll realize that's more important than being contrary over you not being entirely away from England.
If you do have elections, keep me informed. And be well, please. I don't get much news here of you and your bruder save for what letters from you and France tell me and you know he decorates everything so that I can't tell what news is about his flowers and what is about politics.
Thank you for the encouragement, ᓃᒋᒧᐢ. I do hope Alfred comes around in time. I know it's a few months off yet, but I'm not looking forward to spending another Christmas without my entire family to love on. I may have written Ireland to be sure she invites you this year. She assured me she would, so chances are good you'll get the formal invitation in a month or so. I am not quite sure how I'm going to keep my hands off of you in front of my family but I'm sure we'll find a few moments for ourselves.
Margaret,
I don't blame you for not wanting to see me in this way, I don't think any of the nations do. I won't lie that it was disappointing not to see you before you returned home, but I understand your reasoning. It is better to be in England's good graces if you are trying to become independent. I know you'll do it.
I do not blame you for what has happened to me, only England. It may sound selfish but I cannot help but feel some bitterness toward my land being given away like a trophy to such an undeserving nation. But I'm not going to trouble you with that, it's one of my own issues.
West wishes you well, he's worrying incessantly over the dogs at home. I think he likes them more than people, especially Blackie the huge labrador that loves to chew. There are very few things here now that come easy with the debt we have to pay. But we'll manage.
Merry Christmas to you as well, I hope this gets there long before then. If not, have a drink with Francis for me if he comes to visit.
Sincerely,
Gilbert
Reply
Jokes aside, you don't know how relieved I am that you don't hold a grudge against me for your fate. If there had been any way I could have changed those decisions, I would have. The division of your lands, that sort of punishment isn't acceptable under any circumstances. I don't know why England and USA ever thought that would be fair.
Yesterday was the first big snowfall of the season here in central Ontario*. It's so beautiful; I wish you could see it. My bear - do you remember Kumarie? she used to bite you - was out and rolling around in the flakes like a cub. I usually only bother checking the post once a week, which of course leads to disappointment when my joy over seeing a letter from you is immediately flattened by not one, but two contrary letters from contrary family members of mine. France has decided not to visit during the holidays this year and Ontario has enlisted Manitoba's help in arguing with me about a city's name they changed while I was overseas. Ontario may only be a few decades younger than me, and Manitoba, not much more than that, but I feel like a human mother fed up because her children are spoiled brats.
To top it all off, I don't think England or USA are invited to Christmas dinner at Ireland's this year, which means we may not have the dinner at all. My only consolation is that this December 25th will beat the last two, if nothing else.
Kindly give my affections (or at least warm wishes) to Germany and the dogs.
Looking forward to hearing from you soon,
Margaret
[At the bottom of the page, there's another asterisk and an arrow, indicating he should turn the page over. On the back is a labelled map of her lands, nine provinces and two territories, with a star where her house is, and Newfoundland indicated, too, for good measure. She's not sure if he actually has a proper map of North America or not.]
Reply
It would be hard for me to hold a grudge against you, Maggie. But nor you brother nor England are in my greatest opinion currently. But things are starting to heal, even if the poverty here continues to climb.
I remember your bear, I think I still have the scars from my ankle from where she latched onto me and refused to let go. Your snow was always gorgeous, if I remember, thick and white in huge blankets. It's not so much like that here, a bit of snow that just covers enough to hide things. It's virtually gone in the cities only lurking in little corners. I heard about Francis, he came to visit nearly a week ago brandishing a letter from you like it was guilded in gold. (I will never let on how much your letters brighten up the winter months here to him especially) Yet, I have a feeling he knows I enjoy them.
I approve of Ireland's decision, even if that does cut out a family gathering. I'm sure she'll make time to see you, she usually does and often talks fondly of you when she visits or writes. I hope your Christmas goes well though, I have a feeling West and I will end up with Austria and Hungary again. Not a bad thing but Rodderich needs to keep his mouth shut, hopefully we'll actually get to eat supper this year.
I will give your affections to them, I don't think West knows quite what to do and the dogs are oblivious as always.
Hope this letter finds you well,
Gilbert
[Enclosed is a photo of Gilbert with his stupidly happy grin on, in civilian clothes, hugging a burly German Shephard and having a Black Lab lying at his feet. Ludwig is in the far right corner laughing at his brother with a smaller mixbreed lying in his lap]
Reply
I think if we go by apparent age instead of real one, we can pretend you're not a cradle robber. Not that I'm terribly inclined to care, either way. Your letters - and that terribly sweet photograph that I shall treasure forever (thank you sincerely) - make me smile far too much for me to wish them to stop.
Christmas is passed by now; I ended up staying here and entertaining my provinces and territories and Newfoundland for a week. Ireland sent us all new hats, though, and I plan to make a crossing to visit her by summer. I'm almost loathe to say it, but my economy is doing better than it was before the war. More of my brother interjecting himself into things, but my people are happier, not to mention more patriotic, two things it warms my heart to see. Even if I'm still not getting familial support for my independence, my people love me. That will have to do.
Everything here is covered in snow now, from the northernmost islands right down to the border. I took a train east for the New Year - and Cape Breton, visiting her brother in Halifax, mocked me for having a mystery beau until I had to retire upstairs to write you this - and everything is snowy here. I got a letter from British Colombia and she says it's snowy over there. I seem to be comprised entirely of snow and freezing these days. It's a good thing you're not around for this, actually. I don't think you'd enjoy hugging a block of ice.
Your bruder and dogs seem happy. Keep making them laugh, ᓃᒋᒧᐢ. I know they will appreciate you all the more for it.
Yours,
Margaret
Reply
I'd say going by my human age would be more appropriate, then we'd only be a few years in difference. I'm glad I could make you smile and I apologize for this letter being late.
I'm glad to hear that you're doing so well. Having your people love you is one of the few greatest feelings you can have as a nation. But, Now I can say why this letter is so late but I've managed to get a nasty cold. I'm sure Francis told you all about it. It seems your brothers troops introduced the spanish flu here and it's devastated my already poverty stricken land. Done more damage than the war did they think, it's not a pretty thing.
Things are melting here now, easter's right around the corner but I have a feeling you're still blanketed in thick white snow, right? I think I could handle hugging a block of ice, I'd just have to wear mittens.
Maybe I will see you in the summer if you come to visit Europe,
lovingly,
Glibert
Reply
I'm so sorry to hear about the influenza; I wasn't sure how hard it had affected you and your bruder. I remember coming down with that just before the battle at Amiens last year. I felt just as sick as the decades France gave my people smallpox, which had me laid up in bed for days on end. Laid up in bed for days on end in a war zone is not exactly what I needed, as I'm sure you can imagine.
You are both so strong in character, though, I should hope you'll be recovering by the time this reaches you.
There is still plenty of snow here, of course. The west is starting to thaw out and it's nearly time for New Brunswick's typical spring flooding. Switzerland only left the continent a week ago, actually. He'd been visiting a skiing community he established in the mountains. What's more, I think he actually remembered my name this time. That was a first for him. All in all, things could be much worse. They seem to be improving all the time, especially when I get news from you.
Affectionately,
Margaret
p.s.: I know for a fact England will pitch a fit if he catches me trying to visit you in your home. However he can't say anything about my visiting France after I've been to Ireland's. If you can get there for the end of May, I'll meet you. - M.
Reply
Well it seems the flu has passed for the most part. Being stuck in bed for nearly a month was not what I wanted to go through once again. I've been spending too much time in bed and West says I'm getting fat. He would know, we're both not getting any heavier for all the sleeping we seem to do lately.
Vash said something about a town his immigrants there had created, I'm glad to hear it's going well. He's stopped by a few times to make sure everything is alright. Liz has been asking about you, she hopes that the two of you can meet on friendlier terms at some point. I think she's been snooping and reading my letters after I've fallen asleep from some of the medications the stupid doctors have me on for pain.
I hope you can keep a handle on your wild weather, things here are much the same. Sunny and slightly cool, but the mountains help with that. West and I have moved more to the southeast while we're trying to work things out. Makes it easier for everyone to routinely babysit us. I'm getting tired of this occupation honestly.
Lovingly,
Gilbert.
P.s. I should be able to do that, Francis wouldn't mind seeing me again, nor you. It would be a good cover for the both of us in the end I think. ~G
Reply
I'm so glad to hear the flu has passed. I've been worrying about you, you know. Not that I can picture you ever being fat, of course. Well-padded and just as handsome as ever, perhaps, but not fat.
I'm also glad people (other than the usual nosy bastards) are looking after you. You may not like that pain medication, but you know it's for the best. Just like healing humans need rest, so do our kind. As for Liz, I would love to meet with her properly. I'll be the first to admit I always admired her in stories. And, no, I'm not just saying that because it's likely she'll read this after you. I really do mean that. If she can find a reason to visit papa as well, I'm sure he wouldn't mind hosting another for a holiday. Provided she doesn't interfere with my getting to spend a few minutes with you, mind you; I'm not sure I could be trusted to be perfectly friendly in a situation like that.
Come this time next week, I'll be on a boat from Halifax to Áth Cliath, a little bit closer to you. In the meanwhile, Kumarie and I are spending time visiting New Brunswick. Anna did not tell me in advance that she had invited the islands over for a few weeks. That's three women with a nose for gossip as keen as Ireland's in one house to catch me smiling over your letter! France's interrogations into my love life are not as thorough! After some questioning, they learned my potential suitor was not, in fact, of my nationality, at which point Ruth - better known as Prince Edward Island, or that one that was contrary during confederation - hauled out an atlas to start guessing countries and kingdoms are random. I only bring this up because the last two she named were Finland and Lithuania; she's getting closer.
And I am starting to seriously miss you.
Be well, ᓃᒋᒧᐢ. I'll see you where I saw you last, although I know the terms will be so much brighter.
sincerely yours,
Margaret
Reply
I'm glad you think that I'd never get fat. Apparently Liz did read your letter after I did and has announced she's coming with me to visit Francis because she doesn't believe I'm well enough to travel on my own. It's a ruse really, I'm fine to travel on my own, she just wants to see you I think. But I whole heartedly agree that I might have to have Francis distract her if she interferes with us having some time together.
I'll have Francis redirect this letter to Ireland then, it should be waiting for you by the time you arrive. Post in Europe travels much faster than it does overseas. But I have to laugh at your provinces, I didn't think I was that mysterious. Ruth will have to try a bit harder if she's going to try to figure out its me, if she does at all. Not that I mind but I enjoy keeping this quiet on an international scale.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? I miss you more each day I have to lie here and stare at the oil painting of the black forest. Reminds me of you and that time we went hunting and you scared the crap out of me riding that moose. I'll never trust those things.
I hope this letter sees you well, liebe. Send Ireland warm wishes and tell her not to let England anywhere near the stove. I cannot wait to see you.
Lovingly,
Gilbert.
P.s. - I've been wondering what the squiggles are in your letters. It doesn't look like any alphabet I know, is it one of your native languages? ~G.
Reply
Your letter was indeed waiting for me at Ireland's. However, she'd identified the calligraphy on the front as yours and added that knowledge to catching me smiling to know you'd written back. She didn't pester, but you know how wise she is. I've asked her to keep her suspicions to herself and I trust her to do that much. I suppose we'll just have to trust Brigid with it the same way we've been trusting Francis. I'm so very sorry, especially if you get a letter from her inquiring as to your intentions with me. (North Ireland doesn't seem to be talking to her much these days and my brother is still on her hate list from the war; her attention fixates very easily on me being her baby.)
With seeing you (and Liz, of course!) only a few weeks away, I have to admit I'm getting impatient. I will never tire of visiting this great green isle of my auntie's, of course, but being enthused about planned outings with my uncles is hard when you're so close. My heart has definitely grown fonder of you in our time apart, although I wasn't sure at first that that was possible.
I'd forgotten about that time with the moose, to be honest, although it makes me laugh to remember. You Europeans and your aversion to nature will always be both baffling and endearing.
England is a decidedly non-topic in this house still, but I'll pass on your warm wishes. I do hope everyone in your household is doing well, yourself included.
Breá liom tú. I'll be seeing you soon.
Margaret
p.s.: ᐁᐦᐁ. ᐃᑐᐊᐧᕁ ᑖᓂᑕ ᐅᐦᒋ ᐁᐧᒥᐢᑎᑰᓰᓈᕁ ᒥᐢᑳᑲ ᓂᔭ. (Or, rather, yes. It's one of mine.)
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I had a feeling she would, either that or mistake mine for Austria's, I've been told our handwriting is similar (it's so not he's a giant fluff) in looking neat. I have already received a letter from her and reassured her, if she took my words with any sense. I doubt it, she tends to like to think linearly, crazy woman.
I'm glad that you can say that you've grown fonder of me. I can't really say how much I've missed you over the months. They seem too long compared to the few days we spent together in that old farm house.
You would've forgotten about the moose, I haven't seen a wild one of those in a very long time. I think the last time is when I had to go visit Norway, before that time with you of course.
I can't see why England wouldn't be a deadly topic. That's all I'll say on that issue, sorry liebe. Everyone is fine and one of my dogs will be coming with me. Apparently I can't leave Rot to sit here with me gone, he's become attached to me since I've been home(He's the big German Shephard in the photo I sent you.) and he's friendly despite his bark.
Francis isn't fond of dogs because of their fur and shedding but I don't think he'll complain this time.
Ich liebe dich, I will meet you at Francis'
Gilbert.
p.s. you and your odd alphabets. Love you anyway. ~G.
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I've been away from you for all of a week and already I have turned into a sullen child, wanting to be back in your arms. It isn't fair, you know, to love somebody and have to spend your time so far away from them.
Give my affection to Hungary, though. It really was a pleasure spending time with the pair of you and getting to know her better. I hope your trips home went well. I'm only to the coast yet, but that's two days fewer it will take this to get to you. I suppose I'm just that needy.
Wishing you well,
Maggie
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Liz has told me I have the maturity of a child who wasn't allowed to have ice cream before supper; since we left Francis' villa. I'm already wanting Christmas here so I can have an excuse to visit you and press kisses just under your ear that make you smile and laugh so musically.
I will give your affection to her, she was very pleased to meet you and spend time with you. I think she's looking forward to meeting you again sometime in the future. I apologize for the crinkled state of this letter, Rot decided to steal it and sleep on it and Blackie carried it around like a prize before I found it.
Wish you were here,
Gilbert.
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You know, I can nearly pretend I don't miss you so much it hurts provided I'm not hearing from you. But the moment I get a letter from you, there goes my heart, hurting all over again. Even if the letter is crumpled, the ink is runny, and one corner is missing because the deer got to my mail before I did this morning. I sincerely hope there wasn't anything important in that corner.
All that said, please never stop writing.
My brother visited last week, the first I've heard from him since November. He only stayed over two nights, but it was long enough to make me worry that things have changed forever between us. We hardly spoke and neither night did he wake me with his nightmares. I miss him in a very different way than I miss you. I'm used to him being near and now I feel like our only nearness is the physical border, not our hearts or minds.
Ich liebe dich.
Yours,
Maggie
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Probably not, and if there was then I guess it'll forever be lost to the wilderness of the deer.I miss you incredibly so, but your letters always brighten my days when I get one. Especially lately, there are political mumblings about elections to try to pull us out of so much debt. I doubt anything could pull us out of the millions of marks we owe.
I'm sorry to hear about your brother. I know the feeling and went through that while I was... rebuilding West from the Holy Roman Empire into Germany. We were estranged and he rarely talked to me, especially through his teen years where all we did was fight. But America will come around. Your his big sister and soon he'll realize that's more important than being contrary over you not being entirely away from England.
You'll be okay, I promise you that.
Love you always,
Gilbert.
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If you do have elections, keep me informed. And be well, please. I don't get much news here of you and your bruder save for what letters from you and France tell me and you know he decorates everything so that I can't tell what news is about his flowers and what is about politics.
Thank you for the encouragement, ᓃᒋᒧᐢ. I do hope Alfred comes around in time. I know it's a few months off yet, but I'm not looking forward to spending another Christmas without my entire family to love on. I may have written Ireland to be sure she invites you this year. She assured me she would, so chances are good you'll get the formal invitation in a month or so. I am not quite sure how I'm going to keep my hands off of you in front of my family but I'm sure we'll find a few moments for ourselves.
How is West these days anyway? And the dogs?
All my love,
Maggie
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