Inseparable Existence
Title: Inseparable Existence
Pairings/characters: FrUK, England, France
Rating: T
Warning: Madame Guillotine, grammars (gasp), probably not historically accurate
Dumping headcanon(s) that being stole from here and there in form of fanfic. And my first time writing them in non-AU
How to describe Francis?
Arthur wondered, when he was little and still named Albion, he would immediately answered ‘an annoying, showing off bastard’. Yes, despite his tender age of his nation years, cussing is a customary to describe his neighbour country.
Francis loves to tease and make fun of him - a fact that doesn’t change much - the bastard even made him his subordinate when all Arthur wanted was his land for his own. Francis and his ‘highly cultured’ (snort) presence did nothing except to make him felt inferior and infected him with the Frog’s cultures, how dare him!
But even in his age at that time, he realized that it was impossible to erase Francis’ existence. In a night when he was alone and Francis didn’t show up to teased him, he felt lonely, even the fae, bunnies and all of his magical friends gathered and cheered him, they couldn’t exchange Francis’ presence at his side, and upon imagining he was alone with his siblings who hated him, he cried, silently cried until he fell asleep inside the protection of an old tree that lulled him with soothing serenade of its dense leaves above.
--
But there were a time when he wanted to erase Francis forever from the earth, pulled his existence from his own land. The wars, the fire, the blood, the exchange of the emperors on both sides fueling the hate between them.
But then Arthur who’s already England at that time remembered that one time when he was still Albion and Francis still Gallia, Francis’ mother, Gaul a beautiful woman that Rome very fond of told him in her heavy voice ‘when he falls that would be your end too’ and Arthur would cringed at those words that spilled more like a curse than just everyday talk.
Then I have to make sure that his downfall is me!
--
Then many revolutions and occupations happened in Francis’ land. It enrages him because there should be no one dares to touch his Gallia, even his own people more so the other countries threading death to Francis. Only he is allowed to do so!
Even though he wasn’t deny that he smirks when he knew Francis’ people made the said nations dying, he laughed at how Francis had failed to raise his children well to make them rebel against his monarchy.
But then again he visited before the famous king and queen being executed to gave him his remarked sarcastic congratulation. The long-haired nation lay on his bed in the palace, face pale, eyes hollow and very boney. His long fingers trembled, gestured Arthur to get closer, he smiled.
“Will this country still France after this revolution?”
Then it struck Arthur, the thought of loneliness when he was little rushing through his mind, he didn’t want to be lonely again but he hated to admit that to Francis, saying that Francis probably survived because he’s similar to roach. At this Francis only smiled before he was dragged by the angry citoyens, right after he left, waiting for the morning came while took a long drag from his pipe and drink a cheap rum.
It was like a signal to Arthur when the execution came, his feet trotted lightly in the stunk road filled with death and blood, also angry citizens pointing their spears, ready to stab the next head that rolled from the mouth of Madame Guillotine.
This is sick.
He thought after witnessing France emperor’s head rolled and the people cheered, racing to be the first to spear the head, the queen didn’t have much different treatment with her husband though.
Then it came to Francis, France, their own nations headed for his execution, as the citizens, his children didn’t recognize him they cheered, as if the person in front of him was a mere aristocrat.
The executioner asked him about his last wish. Francis eyes locked with Arthur who stood not far from the guillotine. He smiled.
“Find my head, will you?”
--
He cured of course but the thin silver lining around his neck will always adorn the pale skin. It isn’t visible when you don’t stare at his neck in close distant though.
It was very troublesome searching a single head to be reunited with the cold body dumped near the river, especially after the head was severely wounded by spears, feet, knife and all the things reachable by his people.
“Your people were mad…”
Arthur still remembered he said that after Francis’ head reattached to his body. Still trembling because of the fever and lack of nourishment (he wasn’t really different from his people though) he smiled as if the entire beheaded thing is something that happen everyday in his long life.
“Oui, I guess so too…”
--
The first Great War brought them closer, the second Great War giving them awkward relationship. Arthur’s dignity crumbled when his long time enemy succumbed in another country’s feet, not him. He wasn’t happy and decided to bomb his long time allied/enemy naval ship and he showed to Francis’ people that his children were strong despite the bombing by Germany’s air fleet hitting his capital and no way he would surrendered even though he was almost dying.
But as the time went by, the tangled threads of their relationship unraveled itself.
There are some things that Arthur identifies post the second Great War it was Francis’ mental state. Just sometimes he caught him laughing or crying alone and when he confronts it to the other blonde, he acts like nothing happen, and accusing that Arthur is delusional.
And he refused to talk about it, saying ‘I don’t know what’re you talking about’ with blank expression in his face and sometimes plastered with his plastic smile, to be more convinced.
How stupid. Not that I care. It’s annoying!
--
He never said that he and Francis’ relationship is healthy since both of them always try to kill one another, but when the peace surrounding them and the competition between the mellowed, Arthur made a pact to himself that he would act nice in Francis’ companion - a little.
“How long we’ve been together?”
Francis’ hand stopped midair as he tried to sip the bitter English tea that Arthur forced him to drink. Arthur noted the hand was shaking, something accustomed to him after the revolutions and never disappeared after that, even though so it didn’t happen to influence his ability to paint.
“Why?”
“Just answer me!”
“Hmm…more than a thousand years?”
“Exactly…”
Arthur sipped his tea, let Francis wonders what did he try to pull in their conversation.
He stole glances at the man before him. The glorious Empire was no longer there, he just saw a fragile man inside his cheerful exterior, but Arthur wasn’t too much different with his neighbour though.
“What do you want to talk about our existence next to each other? You creep me.”
Arthur didn’t answer and ignored Francis’ protest to dig more on what he thought, he never succeed except when he was sad or something upsetting him happened. He merely plucked a biscuit from the plate and devoured it slowly while watching the sunset on the villa near the channel. It was a beautiful evening.
He was thinking about how to describe Francis in a simple words but he can’t. The expanding years between them didn’t make him understand the Frenchman better; in fact it’s getting harder. The merely ‘he’s annoying bastard’ won’t suffice anymore, he’s more than that, he’s half of Arthur’s path in history, he’s friend yet his enemy, he’s…
‘When he falls that would be your end too.’
Gaul’s voice resonance through his head, the curse surely binds the two together. The voice was no longer something he panicked about, probably it was her predicament about her son and the next door boy’s relationship, both in pleasant or unpleasant way. They were inseparable existence.
The End.
I’ll go simplify it for you Arthur, he’s your other half.
Gaul’s curse I got it somewhere from here, the France Revolution and little Albion alone are from Daisy’s setting sun and the spearing the head is from Tales of Two Cities, Francis trembling hand is from a fanfic I can’t remember orz, and Arthur showing the braveness of his children is from WW2 Winston Churchill speech I forgot which orz...I saw it on a documentary
Pairings/characters: FrUK, England, France
Rating: T
Warning: Madame Guillotine, grammars (gasp), probably not historically accurate
Dumping headcanon(s) that being stole from here and there in form of fanfic. And my first time writing them in non-AU
How to describe Francis?
Arthur wondered, when he was little and still named Albion, he would immediately answered ‘an annoying, showing off bastard’. Yes, despite his tender age of his nation years, cussing is a customary to describe his neighbour country.
Francis loves to tease and make fun of him - a fact that doesn’t change much - the bastard even made him his subordinate when all Arthur wanted was his land for his own. Francis and his ‘highly cultured’ (snort) presence did nothing except to make him felt inferior and infected him with the Frog’s cultures, how dare him!
But even in his age at that time, he realized that it was impossible to erase Francis’ existence. In a night when he was alone and Francis didn’t show up to teased him, he felt lonely, even the fae, bunnies and all of his magical friends gathered and cheered him, they couldn’t exchange Francis’ presence at his side, and upon imagining he was alone with his siblings who hated him, he cried, silently cried until he fell asleep inside the protection of an old tree that lulled him with soothing serenade of its dense leaves above.
--
But there were a time when he wanted to erase Francis forever from the earth, pulled his existence from his own land. The wars, the fire, the blood, the exchange of the emperors on both sides fueling the hate between them.
But then Arthur who’s already England at that time remembered that one time when he was still Albion and Francis still Gallia, Francis’ mother, Gaul a beautiful woman that Rome very fond of told him in her heavy voice ‘when he falls that would be your end too’ and Arthur would cringed at those words that spilled more like a curse than just everyday talk.
Then I have to make sure that his downfall is me!
--
Then many revolutions and occupations happened in Francis’ land. It enrages him because there should be no one dares to touch his Gallia, even his own people more so the other countries threading death to Francis. Only he is allowed to do so!
Even though he wasn’t deny that he smirks when he knew Francis’ people made the said nations dying, he laughed at how Francis had failed to raise his children well to make them rebel against his monarchy.
But then again he visited before the famous king and queen being executed to gave him his remarked sarcastic congratulation. The long-haired nation lay on his bed in the palace, face pale, eyes hollow and very boney. His long fingers trembled, gestured Arthur to get closer, he smiled.
“Will this country still France after this revolution?”
Then it struck Arthur, the thought of loneliness when he was little rushing through his mind, he didn’t want to be lonely again but he hated to admit that to Francis, saying that Francis probably survived because he’s similar to roach. At this Francis only smiled before he was dragged by the angry citoyens, right after he left, waiting for the morning came while took a long drag from his pipe and drink a cheap rum.
It was like a signal to Arthur when the execution came, his feet trotted lightly in the stunk road filled with death and blood, also angry citizens pointing their spears, ready to stab the next head that rolled from the mouth of Madame Guillotine.
This is sick.
He thought after witnessing France emperor’s head rolled and the people cheered, racing to be the first to spear the head, the queen didn’t have much different treatment with her husband though.
Then it came to Francis, France, their own nations headed for his execution, as the citizens, his children didn’t recognize him they cheered, as if the person in front of him was a mere aristocrat.
The executioner asked him about his last wish. Francis eyes locked with Arthur who stood not far from the guillotine. He smiled.
“Find my head, will you?”
--
He cured of course but the thin silver lining around his neck will always adorn the pale skin. It isn’t visible when you don’t stare at his neck in close distant though.
It was very troublesome searching a single head to be reunited with the cold body dumped near the river, especially after the head was severely wounded by spears, feet, knife and all the things reachable by his people.
“Your people were mad…”
Arthur still remembered he said that after Francis’ head reattached to his body. Still trembling because of the fever and lack of nourishment (he wasn’t really different from his people though) he smiled as if the entire beheaded thing is something that happen everyday in his long life.
“Oui, I guess so too…”
--
The first Great War brought them closer, the second Great War giving them awkward relationship. Arthur’s dignity crumbled when his long time enemy succumbed in another country’s feet, not him. He wasn’t happy and decided to bomb his long time allied/enemy naval ship and he showed to Francis’ people that his children were strong despite the bombing by Germany’s air fleet hitting his capital and no way he would surrendered even though he was almost dying.
But as the time went by, the tangled threads of their relationship unraveled itself.
There are some things that Arthur identifies post the second Great War it was Francis’ mental state. Just sometimes he caught him laughing or crying alone and when he confronts it to the other blonde, he acts like nothing happen, and accusing that Arthur is delusional.
And he refused to talk about it, saying ‘I don’t know what’re you talking about’ with blank expression in his face and sometimes plastered with his plastic smile, to be more convinced.
How stupid. Not that I care. It’s annoying!
--
He never said that he and Francis’ relationship is healthy since both of them always try to kill one another, but when the peace surrounding them and the competition between the mellowed, Arthur made a pact to himself that he would act nice in Francis’ companion - a little.
“How long we’ve been together?”
Francis’ hand stopped midair as he tried to sip the bitter English tea that Arthur forced him to drink. Arthur noted the hand was shaking, something accustomed to him after the revolutions and never disappeared after that, even though so it didn’t happen to influence his ability to paint.
“Why?”
“Just answer me!”
“Hmm…more than a thousand years?”
“Exactly…”
Arthur sipped his tea, let Francis wonders what did he try to pull in their conversation.
He stole glances at the man before him. The glorious Empire was no longer there, he just saw a fragile man inside his cheerful exterior, but Arthur wasn’t too much different with his neighbour though.
“What do you want to talk about our existence next to each other? You creep me.”
Arthur didn’t answer and ignored Francis’ protest to dig more on what he thought, he never succeed except when he was sad or something upsetting him happened. He merely plucked a biscuit from the plate and devoured it slowly while watching the sunset on the villa near the channel. It was a beautiful evening.
He was thinking about how to describe Francis in a simple words but he can’t. The expanding years between them didn’t make him understand the Frenchman better; in fact it’s getting harder. The merely ‘he’s annoying bastard’ won’t suffice anymore, he’s more than that, he’s half of Arthur’s path in history, he’s friend yet his enemy, he’s…
‘When he falls that would be your end too.’
Gaul’s voice resonance through his head, the curse surely binds the two together. The voice was no longer something he panicked about, probably it was her predicament about her son and the next door boy’s relationship, both in pleasant or unpleasant way. They were inseparable existence.
The End.
I’ll go simplify it for you Arthur, he’s your other half.
Gaul’s curse I got it somewhere from here, the France Revolution and little Albion alone are from Daisy’s setting sun and the spearing the head is from Tales of Two Cities, Francis trembling hand is from a fanfic I can’t remember orz, and Arthur showing the braveness of his children is from WW2 Winston Churchill speech I forgot which orz...I saw it on a documentary