“Mais qu'est-ce que t'as foutu, Arthur!?” Francis exclaimed, gesturing wildly at his-no, now her-ample chest. Arthur seemed unable to say anything, his vision fixated on spot no gentleman would dare admit to look at, but a slap from the other brought back his senses and he quickly moved his head to stare at a spot to the left of Francis’ head, wishing his face were a little less red. “What did you do!?”
Arthur coughed, his voice suddenly returning as his anger resurfaced. “Me?! I told you time and time again not to just come into my house unannounced, especially when I’m working with magic! It’s your own bloody fault, bastard!” He yelled back, his face red from anger now.
“Va te faire foutre! Fix it!” Francis yelled. His-her hands flew to her face, and if Arthur didn’t know better, he’d say she was crying. “My big brother stubble…my glorious body…Arthur, change me back!” And Arthur tried.
He tried over and over again, day after day, week after week, month after month, and eventually, years passed. After consulting with his magical friends and books, Arthur had tried everything, and the time had come to just declare it impossible to return Francis to his male self. Francis being Francis, however, he-she rolled with it. She changed her name to Marianne, and was soon back to her old, perverted self. Life seemed to be getting back to what could be considered normal for Nations. That all changed when Marianne came to Arthur and told him she was pregnant with his child. The next thing they knew, they had two gorgeous twin boys and were attempting to live together. By some miracle they have yet to kill each other. This is a tale of a day in the life of the Kirkland-Bonnefoy family…
-- Many thanks to the French not quite anon :) Francis' first sentence should be along the lines of "What the fuck did you do, Arthur," and the second French one is "Fuck you."
Sorry it was so short, but it's just a prologue and I have to go make dinner and all that fun stuff. There will hopefully be more later.
Definitely not OP
anonymous
June 5 2009, 19:30:08 UTC
But regardless, I was squeeing over this fill before I even clicked the link. I have to say: the fact that her name is Marianne absolutely killed me. You've killed me, anon. HOW COULD YOU? DD:
OP CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH
anonymous
June 5 2009, 19:42:36 UTC
OMG, just found this and YOU ARE SO MADE OF WIN. I am looking forward to this like whoa. And you used the requested name! My inner Francophile is so geekily pleased. I think I've got some poster with Marianne-as-part-of-the-tricolor somewhere in the mess in my room. Ah, France, when the US has an old guy in stars-and-stripes pants/suspenders and the UK has the fat, ugly John Bull, you have a half-naked girl. <3
Author says "You're welcome"
anonymous
June 6 2009, 00:44:25 UTC
I hope I don't disappoint with the rest of the fill ♥ My fills have a tendency to start with one idea in mind then morph into something completely different from what I was planning D:
A Day in the Life [2a/?]
anonymous
June 6 2009, 00:41:02 UTC
Arthur was the first one up that morning, and in a rare moment of wanting to do something nice for his family ‘just because,’ he decided that he would make breakfast. Needless to say, when Marianne came dashing in exclaiming “Ma cuisine,” he was quite annoyed.
“Look, it was only a small fire,” Arthur said in a misguided attempt to comfort the crying Marianne. “Porridge usually doesn’t destroy the kitchen.”
“Mon cher Arthur,” Marianne started quietly, trying to keep her emotions under control. “You were only boiling water. There shouldn’t have been a fire. Ever. From boiling water.”
“But-“
“Leave. Maintenant. Go…wake the boys and I’ll try to…salvage…something for breakfast.” And, without letting Arthur get a word in edge-wise, she pushed him out of the kitchen.
“Fine! It’s not like I was making breakfast for your benefit or anything,” Arthur grumbled as he stomped his way to Alfred’s room. Why was she so upset, anyway? It was just a small fire, nothing unusual. The kitchen was still more or less intact, wasn’t it? What’s the big problem? Shaking his head at his partner’s bizarre hysterics, he pushed the bedroom door open. “Alfred, time to wake up.” No response. “Alfred!” The bed was still. Annoyed, Arthur stormed over to the bed and punctured a loud “Alfred!” by yanking back the blanket…which revealed an empty bed. Arthur dropped the blanket and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was going to be one of those days. “That bloody brat had better be with Matthew or else,” He told the fairy on his shoulder who twittered in laughter before disappearing.
Arthur crossed the hall to Matthew’s room, sighing in relief when he saw two lumps on the boy’s bed. Alfred must have gotten scared and run to Matthew’s room in the middle of the night or something. That boy was terrified of ghosts and Arthur couldn’t figure out why. The only ones that lived in the house were nice and accommodating, unlike other ghosts he had been exposed to. Hopefully it was just a phase but with that boy, who really knew. “Alfred, Matthew, time to wake up,” Arthur said to the room, but neither boy stirred. He got an odd feeling of déjà vu as he walked over to the bed to yank back the blanket. “Boys, wake up!”
Alfred and Matthew jumped awake with the loss of warmth and blinked at Arthur. “It’s time to wake up,” Arthur repeated, and the boys continued staring at him. “It’s morning, are you going to be joining us for breakfast anytime soon?”
“What?!” Alfred yelled, shocking his father. Matthew looked at his brother in confusion.
A Day in the Life [2b/?]
anonymous
June 6 2009, 00:41:28 UTC
“Boy, it’s too early in the morning to be yelling! I asked if you were going to join us for breakfast.” Arthur repeated, but Alfred kept staring at him blankly. Matthew elbowed his brother and showed him something that looked suspiciously like ear plugs.
“Oh yeah!” Alfred yelled before reaching up and pulling the plugs out of his own ears. “Sorry father. What were you saying?”
Arthur stared at the boys in shock, not having expected them to be wearing ear plugs. “Why-what-Why are you guys using ear plugs?” The boys turned bright red and turned away, refusing to look Arthur in the eye. “Answer me,” He said sternly, “Or else no breakfast.”
“We were wearing them because, um,” Matthew bravely started, but his face only grew redder and he used his polar bear to hide it. “On second thought, I’ll just miss breakfast.”
“You and maman are too loud!” Alfred shouted before joining his brother in hiding his face.
Arthur continued staring at them. Too loud? What were they too loud doing-Oh. At night. Oh. Arthur turned away from the boys, his face a matching red. “Oh, well, sorry. We’ll try to k-keep it down in the future,” He muttered. “Breakfast is-soon,” And with that, Arthur was out of the room, still feeling mortified.
“Marianne!” He shouted as he returned to the kitchen, barely noticing that it had been cleaned and an edible breakfast was on the table. “You wouldn’t believe what the boys just told me.”
“Hm? And what would that be, Arthur?” She snapped, obviously still perturbed over the kitchen incident.
“They said we’re too loud.” Did she look amused?
“Too loud? Quand?” She was amused. She knew just when Arthur and the boys meant.
“You know.”
“Mais, je ne sais pas. Tell me Arthur. When are we too loud?” Marianne didn’t even both trying to hold back a chuckle.
Arthur glared at her (and the fairies that were currently laughing behind him) before taking a seat across from her at the table. “At night, ok?” He whispered. “They were wearing ear plugs!”
“Well, I guess someone will have to keep it down then, won’t he?”
“Me? Who was all-“ He was cut off by a cough coming from the doorway of the kitchen. Matthew and Alfred had arrived for breakfast. “Ah, good morning, boys. Glad to see you’ve decided to join us for breakfast.” The boys took a seat at the table, trying to ignore the laughter coming from their mother. It was going to be one of those days it seemed.
-- French translations: Ma cuisine - My kitchen Mon cher - My dear Maintenant - Now Maman - Mom Quand? - When? Mais, je ne sais pas - But, I don't know.
A Day in the Life [3/?]
anonymous
June 7 2009, 06:17:13 UTC
Breakfast was more or less quiet, broken only when Marianne couldn’t hold back an escaped giggle or two. Arthur was doing a superb job of avoiding eye contact with everyone, and the boys were perfectly playing the part of “children should be seen, not heard.” In fact, Matthew was playing the role so perfectly, that his plate was taken away while he was still eating, his quiet protest falling on deaf ears.
With Arthur away from the table with the dirty dishes, Marianne got a devilish smile on her face and leaned forward so that she was closer to the boys. “So, mes fils, your father told me something très intéressant. He said-”
“Marianne,” Arthur growled, having returned from the kitchen. “Look at the boys,” He gestured, and Matthew and Alfred seemed to be doing their best to blend in with the furniture, hoping that they would become invisible and the embarrassing topic would be dropped. “They’re scarred enough for now. Do you really want to add to it?”
Marianne pouted before standing gracefully and moving to throw her arms over Arthur’s shoulders. “Mais, Arthur, surely the boys are old enough for ‘The Talk.’ Both of us were even younger than they are now when we learned about-”
Alfred and Matthew couldn’t take it anymore. It was bad enough that their parents’ nightly habits kept them awake, but did it really have to spread into and after breakfast? “Maman! Please!” Alfred shouted at a spot on the table. “Pas aujourd’hui, pas-” His horribly accented French was cut off when his mother swooped down and gave him a wind-pipe crushing hug.
“You spoke French! French!” She cried, motherly pride swelling. She pulled away, looking him in the eye, and Alfred could see the poorly contained happiness in her eyes. “Have you finally realized how horrible it is to speak English all the time? I’m so proud of you! We’ll have to work on your accent, bien sûr, but small steps, oui?” She was back to giving him a bone crushing hug. Over her shoulder, Alfred could see his father rolling his eyes, but Matthew was giving him a thumbs up. He had managed to avert a disastrous and mentally scarring topic, and with any luck, he could keep it up for the remainder of what was going to be a long, long day.
-- Another short one, sorry.
Before I go into the French translations, I just want to point out that in my head canon, Alfred can sort of speak French. It's an unofficial language of Louisiana (not to mention the Louisiana Territory in general was purchased from the French), and is actually the third most-spoken language in the country. So while he may not be as fluent in the language as others, I still think he would know a few words...especially if he was growing up living with France as his mother :)
Translations: Mes fils = My sons Très intéressant = Very interesting Mais = But Pas aujourd’hui, pas = Not today, not Bien sûr = Of course Oui = Yes
A Day in the Life [4/?]
anonymous
June 12 2009, 22:11:47 UTC
Before you read this update, in my defense, a cracky plot was asked for. I hope this part is cracky enough and that you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :D
--
After a few minutes of nearly hugging the life out of Alfred, Marianne pulled away and ran a hand through the boy’s hair. “I think you need a haircut. You haven’t been taking care of your hair like Matthew has been, have you? You’re starting to resemble a golden caterpillar. Come.” Before anyone could protest, Marianne had grabbed the poor boy’s hand and dragged him to her bathroom for an impromptu haircut. Matthew looked at Arthur curiously, before quietly asking, “Why are you blushing, father?” The embarrassed Nation shrugged off the question and childhood memories and quickly leaving the dining room full of tinkling laughter behind. Why did the fairies find enjoyment in his embarrassment, anyway? Considering he was the only one who could see them and interact with them, surely they would be nicer?
A Day in the Life [5/?]
anonymous
June 12 2009, 22:12:20 UTC
Arthur, in a bad mood thanks to his less-than-spectacular morning, decided that working on his embroidery would be therapeutic…and practical since he always found a way to use what he made. He -was so lost in his embroidery, that he didn’t notice a-still-long-haired-Alfred standing in front of him until the boy almost shouted “Father!”
Startled, Arthur stilled the needle and glanced at the boy. “What, Alfred? You know I don’t like being interrupted while embroidering.” Alfred shifted his weight from one leg to the other, looking oddly nervous. Why was he shifting so? Alfred didn’t shift…he was always confident and never nervous. What changed? And why was his hair still long? Wasn’t Francis-Marianne, different name, remember that-supposed to have cut it? She even missed a really…long…curly…oh. This was Matthew, not Alfred.
As if he had heard his father’s thoughts, Matthew said quietly, “It’s Matthew, not Alfred. Um, maman wanted me to tell you that, um, she needs help because, ah, Alfred is being…unruly?” Before Arthur could question Matthew as to why he was acting so nervous, the boy had vanished, almost as if he had never been there in the first place. If Arthur didn’t know better, he’d swear that child knew more magic than he let on.
With a sigh, Arthur decided to put his embroidery away before heading towards the bathroom. If Alfred were being unruly, a few minutes wouldn’t make any difference, and Marianne could deal with it for that long. It’s not like it was the end of the world.
Arthur entered the bathroom expecting chaos. Instead, Alfred latched onto his right arm, Matthew his left, and the door shut behind him with an ominous ‘click’ of the lock. “I’m sorry, father. Maman made us,” Arthur thought he heard one of the boys say, but he wasn’t sure since his attention was focused on the woman in front of him. She was advancing on him, something hidden behind her back, her hair seemingly floating thanks to an impossible wind (though Arthur could see that the source was his traitorous fairy friends), and a determined gleam in her eye.
“Mon cher Arthur,” She said softly, seductively, trying, and failing, to put him at ease. “Sit, s’il te plaît.” Arthur wanted to refuse, but a gentle tug on each arm caught him off balance, forcing him to take a seat.
“Marianne, what the bloody hell is going on?” Arthur growled, attempting to remove his arms from the boys’ grips and failing. The little buggers were stronger than he thought.
“Something that is long overdue~” She sang softly, bending down to give him a peck on the nose in an oddly chaste move for the French woman.
“What-ow!” Arthur felt a sharp pinch just above his eye. Again. And again. “Ow! Francis-ow!-fucking Marianne-ow!-Bonnefoy stop! Ow! Bastard! OW! Leave my eyebrows alone!” The Nation under attack struggled, finally breaking free of his sons’ hold and quickly moving away from the tweezers by launching himself at the door.
“You fucking locked it!?” He yelled, pulling at the door hopelessly.
“Oui, bien sûr. We could not risk having you escape since your eyebrows are so…horrible!” She paused, giving a devious smile. “Mais, don’t worry. One of us has the key for when it’s all said and done. Now, stop fighting and give in.”
“Never you frog bastard!” Arthur could shout all he wanted, but the fact remained that he was still locked in a bathroom with his crazy and determined enemy-turned-wife and twin sons who were physically stronger than either of their parents. His eyebrows were doomed.
But then, the trapped-like-a-rat Nation heard a familiar tinkling laugh and a key fell into his hands. Maybe the fairies weren’t traitors after all. Quick as a flash, Arthur had the door unlocked and was gone.
“I forgot about the fairies,” Marianne said forlornly, sighing while she placed the tweezers by the sink. “But I will get those eyebrows one day. This will not be another defeat by the French!” She vowed to the empty bathroom, not noticing that the twins had snuck away, their hair still uncut.
-- I had way more fun writing that than I've had writing anything XD Pretty sure the only new French term I used was s'il te plaît which means please. If you don't understand a term, feel free to ask :)
A Day in the Life [6/?]
anonymous
June 18 2009, 04:22:29 UTC
The next couple of hours were spent with Arthur hiding from his family in his not-so-secret magic room, the boys playing together outside after Matthew had cut Alfred’s hair to a length the louder twin deemed acceptable, and Marianne cooking up a storm in the kitchen, taking her anger out on the cooking utensils, all the while muttering about stupid Nations who don’t care about how embarrassing their grooming habits were. No one was looking to a reunification at lunch, but it was inevitable.
Arthur walked into the dining room still wearing his magical cloak, the hood pulled over his head, conveniently hiding his eyebrows. Alfred and Matthew entered next, the latter with his hair pulled back with one of his mother’s more sensible ribbons, the former sporting a choppy haircut. When Marianne joined her family with the food, she raised an eyebrow at the piece of hair on Alfred’s head that was determined to defy gravity, but chose to leave the matter alone for the time being since his hair looked more or less groomed. She did, however, send a glare at Arthur when she forcefully put his plate down, causing some of the food to end up in his lap. “Désolée mon petit chou,” She said icily before taking her seat, matching Arthur’s returned glare.
The tension in the room was palpable, and the twins quietly poked at their food, not wanting to make more noise than possible. Things might have stayed in a tense limbo had Matthew not dropped his fork. The loud clatter of metal acted as the catalyst that broke the uneasy truce and had Arthur and Marianne up and yelling at each other in a more ancient form of English and French. From what little Alfred and Matthew could understand, their parents were cursing the day they had ever met each other and they had no idea why they were still trying when the other was too stubborn for his (the boys thought it odd that they only used masculine pronouns while arguing, but never worked up the courage to ask why) own good. Feeling uncomfortable, the boys attempted to leave the dining room, but their movement reminded their parents that they were still in the room and, red faced and panting, the older Nations retook their seats and attacked their food, acting as if nothing had happened.
“So, Alfred, did you ever find out what happened to le lapin that used to come around?” Marianne asked a moment later, giving the boy a small smile.
Alfred shrugged, shoving a bite in his mouth. “I don’t know, never found him,” He said around a mouthful of food.
“Alfred. Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Arthur scolded, slightly amazed that the boy could still be understood what that much food in his mouth. A worthless talent sure, but unique none-the-less.
“Ugh, fine, father,” Alfred said around another bite of food, smirking at the angry look on his father’s face. His smirk disappeared an instant later when he felt Matthew’s elbow dig sharply into his side…again.
“Don’t you think he’s annoyed enough? Do you really have to antagonize him?” His timid brother whispered, silently hoping his father didn’t overhead.
“Of course I do. It’s fun~” Alfred not-really-whispered back, grinning. “Besides, better he’s angry with me than maman,” He continued in a much quieter voice. Matthew nodded in reluctant agreement.
Arthur cleared his throat, ready to say something else to Alfred when there was a loud crash coming from the back of the house. Arthur and Marianne jumped at the sound, but Alfred let out a very-manly-for-an-eight-year-old scream and was in Arthur’s lap the next instant. “It’s a ghost! I told you the house was haunted!”
Arthur awkwardly patted the boy on the head then attempted to dislodge him, but Alfred only held on tighter. “Alfred, I told you, the ghosts in this house are friendly and don’t like exerting the energy needed to move things. I’m sure it was just a cat or something.” The boy looked unconvinced and Arthur sighed. “Look, let’s go see what it was. If it is a ghost, I promise to protect you, ok?” Alfred nodded and moved off his father’s lap, but refused to let go of his hand as they followed Marianne and Matthew out of the room. Arthur shook his head in bewilderment at the older twin’s reaction. For such a brave child, Alfred was surprisingly easily scared.
A Day in the Life [6/?] Author's Notes
anonymous
June 18 2009, 04:23:57 UTC
Hey look! Life let up on me and I was able to update before the weekend...which is kind of funny since I probably won't have time to get an update up this weekend ^^; On the bright side, my classes end Monday so hopefully there will be an early-to-mid week update next week (if not sooner) ♥
French translations: Désolée: Sorry Mon petit chou: A term of endearment. Literally translates to "My little cabbage" le lapin: The rabbit
--
“Mais qu'est-ce que t'as foutu, Arthur!?” Francis exclaimed, gesturing wildly at his-no, now her-ample chest. Arthur seemed unable to say anything, his vision fixated on spot no gentleman would dare admit to look at, but a slap from the other brought back his senses and he quickly moved his head to stare at a spot to the left of Francis’ head, wishing his face were a little less red. “What did you do!?”
Arthur coughed, his voice suddenly returning as his anger resurfaced. “Me?! I told you time and time again not to just come into my house unannounced, especially when I’m working with magic! It’s your own bloody fault, bastard!” He yelled back, his face red from anger now.
“Va te faire foutre! Fix it!” Francis yelled. His-her hands flew to her face, and if Arthur didn’t know better, he’d say she was crying. “My big brother stubble…my glorious body…Arthur, change me back!” And Arthur tried.
He tried over and over again, day after day, week after week, month after month, and eventually, years passed. After consulting with his magical friends and books, Arthur had tried everything, and the time had come to just declare it impossible to return Francis to his male self. Francis being Francis, however, he-she rolled with it. She changed her name to Marianne, and was soon back to her old, perverted self. Life seemed to be getting back to what could be considered normal for Nations. That all changed when Marianne came to Arthur and told him she was pregnant with his child. The next thing they knew, they had two gorgeous twin boys and were attempting to live together. By some miracle they have yet to kill each other. This is a tale of a day in the life of the Kirkland-Bonnefoy family…
--
Many thanks to the French not quite anon :) Francis' first sentence should be along the lines of "What the fuck did you do, Arthur," and the second French one is "Fuck you."
Sorry it was so short, but it's just a prologue and I have to go make dinner and all that fun stuff. There will hopefully be more later.
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*goes back to writing*
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My fills have a tendency to start with one idea in mind then morph into something completely different from what I was planning D:
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“Look, it was only a small fire,” Arthur said in a misguided attempt to comfort the crying Marianne. “Porridge usually doesn’t destroy the kitchen.”
“Mon cher Arthur,” Marianne started quietly, trying to keep her emotions under control. “You were only boiling water. There shouldn’t have been a fire. Ever. From boiling water.”
“But-“
“Leave. Maintenant. Go…wake the boys and I’ll try to…salvage…something for breakfast.” And, without letting Arthur get a word in edge-wise, she pushed him out of the kitchen.
“Fine! It’s not like I was making breakfast for your benefit or anything,” Arthur grumbled as he stomped his way to Alfred’s room. Why was she so upset, anyway? It was just a small fire, nothing unusual. The kitchen was still more or less intact, wasn’t it? What’s the big problem? Shaking his head at his partner’s bizarre hysterics, he pushed the bedroom door open. “Alfred, time to wake up.” No response. “Alfred!” The bed was still. Annoyed, Arthur stormed over to the bed and punctured a loud “Alfred!” by yanking back the blanket…which revealed an empty bed. Arthur dropped the blanket and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was going to be one of those days. “That bloody brat had better be with Matthew or else,” He told the fairy on his shoulder who twittered in laughter before disappearing.
Arthur crossed the hall to Matthew’s room, sighing in relief when he saw two lumps on the boy’s bed. Alfred must have gotten scared and run to Matthew’s room in the middle of the night or something. That boy was terrified of ghosts and Arthur couldn’t figure out why. The only ones that lived in the house were nice and accommodating, unlike other ghosts he had been exposed to. Hopefully it was just a phase but with that boy, who really knew. “Alfred, Matthew, time to wake up,” Arthur said to the room, but neither boy stirred. He got an odd feeling of déjà vu as he walked over to the bed to yank back the blanket. “Boys, wake up!”
Alfred and Matthew jumped awake with the loss of warmth and blinked at Arthur. “It’s time to wake up,” Arthur repeated, and the boys continued staring at him. “It’s morning, are you going to be joining us for breakfast anytime soon?”
“What?!” Alfred yelled, shocking his father. Matthew looked at his brother in confusion.
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“Oh yeah!” Alfred yelled before reaching up and pulling the plugs out of his own ears. “Sorry father. What were you saying?”
Arthur stared at the boys in shock, not having expected them to be wearing ear plugs. “Why-what-Why are you guys using ear plugs?” The boys turned bright red and turned away, refusing to look Arthur in the eye. “Answer me,” He said sternly, “Or else no breakfast.”
“We were wearing them because, um,” Matthew bravely started, but his face only grew redder and he used his polar bear to hide it. “On second thought, I’ll just miss breakfast.”
“You and maman are too loud!” Alfred shouted before joining his brother in hiding his face.
Arthur continued staring at them. Too loud? What were they too loud doing-Oh. At night. Oh. Arthur turned away from the boys, his face a matching red. “Oh, well, sorry. We’ll try to k-keep it down in the future,” He muttered. “Breakfast is-soon,” And with that, Arthur was out of the room, still feeling mortified.
“Marianne!” He shouted as he returned to the kitchen, barely noticing that it had been cleaned and an edible breakfast was on the table. “You wouldn’t believe what the boys just told me.”
“Hm? And what would that be, Arthur?” She snapped, obviously still perturbed over the kitchen incident.
“They said we’re too loud.” Did she look amused?
“Too loud? Quand?” She was amused. She knew just when Arthur and the boys meant.
“You know.”
“Mais, je ne sais pas. Tell me Arthur. When are we too loud?” Marianne didn’t even both trying to hold back a chuckle.
Arthur glared at her (and the fairies that were currently laughing behind him) before taking a seat across from her at the table. “At night, ok?” He whispered. “They were wearing ear plugs!”
“Well, I guess someone will have to keep it down then, won’t he?”
“Me? Who was all-“ He was cut off by a cough coming from the doorway of the kitchen. Matthew and Alfred had arrived for breakfast. “Ah, good morning, boys. Glad to see you’ve decided to join us for breakfast.” The boys took a seat at the table, trying to ignore the laughter coming from their mother. It was going to be one of those days it seemed.
--
French translations:
Ma cuisine - My kitchen
Mon cher - My dear
Maintenant - Now
Maman - Mom
Quand? - When?
Mais, je ne sais pas - But, I don't know.
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With Arthur away from the table with the dirty dishes, Marianne got a devilish smile on her face and leaned forward so that she was closer to the boys. “So, mes fils, your father told me something très intéressant. He said-”
“Marianne,” Arthur growled, having returned from the kitchen. “Look at the boys,” He gestured, and Matthew and Alfred seemed to be doing their best to blend in with the furniture, hoping that they would become invisible and the embarrassing topic would be dropped. “They’re scarred enough for now. Do you really want to add to it?”
Marianne pouted before standing gracefully and moving to throw her arms over Arthur’s shoulders. “Mais, Arthur, surely the boys are old enough for ‘The Talk.’ Both of us were even younger than they are now when we learned about-”
Alfred and Matthew couldn’t take it anymore. It was bad enough that their parents’ nightly habits kept them awake, but did it really have to spread into and after breakfast? “Maman! Please!” Alfred shouted at a spot on the table. “Pas aujourd’hui, pas-” His horribly accented French was cut off when his mother swooped down and gave him a wind-pipe crushing hug.
“You spoke French! French!” She cried, motherly pride swelling. She pulled away, looking him in the eye, and Alfred could see the poorly contained happiness in her eyes. “Have you finally realized how horrible it is to speak English all the time? I’m so proud of you! We’ll have to work on your accent, bien sûr, but small steps, oui?” She was back to giving him a bone crushing hug. Over her shoulder, Alfred could see his father rolling his eyes, but Matthew was giving him a thumbs up. He had managed to avert a disastrous and mentally scarring topic, and with any luck, he could keep it up for the remainder of what was going to be a long, long day.
--
Another short one, sorry.
Before I go into the French translations, I just want to point out that in my head canon, Alfred can sort of speak French. It's an unofficial language of Louisiana (not to mention the Louisiana Territory in general was purchased from the French), and is actually the third most-spoken language in the country. So while he may not be as fluent in the language as others, I still think he would know a few words...especially if he was growing up living with France as his mother :)
Translations:
Mes fils = My sons
Très intéressant = Very interesting
Mais = But
Pas aujourd’hui, pas = Not today, not
Bien sûr = Of course
Oui = Yes
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After a few minutes of nearly hugging the life out of Alfred, Marianne pulled away and ran a hand through the boy’s hair. “I think you need a haircut. You haven’t been taking care of your hair like Matthew has been, have you? You’re starting to resemble a golden caterpillar. Come.” Before anyone could protest, Marianne had grabbed the poor boy’s hand and dragged him to her bathroom for an impromptu haircut. Matthew looked at Arthur curiously, before quietly asking, “Why are you blushing, father?” The embarrassed Nation shrugged off the question and childhood memories and quickly leaving the dining room full of tinkling laughter behind. Why did the fairies find enjoyment in his embarrassment, anyway? Considering he was the only one who could see them and interact with them, surely they would be nicer?
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Startled, Arthur stilled the needle and glanced at the boy. “What, Alfred? You know I don’t like being interrupted while embroidering.” Alfred shifted his weight from one leg to the other, looking oddly nervous. Why was he shifting so? Alfred didn’t shift…he was always confident and never nervous. What changed? And why was his hair still long? Wasn’t Francis-Marianne, different name, remember that-supposed to have cut it? She even missed a really…long…curly…oh. This was Matthew, not Alfred.
As if he had heard his father’s thoughts, Matthew said quietly, “It’s Matthew, not Alfred. Um, maman wanted me to tell you that, um, she needs help because, ah, Alfred is being…unruly?” Before Arthur could question Matthew as to why he was acting so nervous, the boy had vanished, almost as if he had never been there in the first place. If Arthur didn’t know better, he’d swear that child knew more magic than he let on.
With a sigh, Arthur decided to put his embroidery away before heading towards the bathroom. If Alfred were being unruly, a few minutes wouldn’t make any difference, and Marianne could deal with it for that long. It’s not like it was the end of the world.
Arthur entered the bathroom expecting chaos. Instead, Alfred latched onto his right arm, Matthew his left, and the door shut behind him with an ominous ‘click’ of the lock. “I’m sorry, father. Maman made us,” Arthur thought he heard one of the boys say, but he wasn’t sure since his attention was focused on the woman in front of him. She was advancing on him, something hidden behind her back, her hair seemingly floating thanks to an impossible wind (though Arthur could see that the source was his traitorous fairy friends), and a determined gleam in her eye.
“Mon cher Arthur,” She said softly, seductively, trying, and failing, to put him at ease. “Sit, s’il te plaît.” Arthur wanted to refuse, but a gentle tug on each arm caught him off balance, forcing him to take a seat.
“Marianne, what the bloody hell is going on?” Arthur growled, attempting to remove his arms from the boys’ grips and failing. The little buggers were stronger than he thought.
“Something that is long overdue~” She sang softly, bending down to give him a peck on the nose in an oddly chaste move for the French woman.
“What-ow!” Arthur felt a sharp pinch just above his eye. Again. And again. “Ow! Francis-ow!-fucking Marianne-ow!-Bonnefoy stop! Ow! Bastard! OW! Leave my eyebrows alone!” The Nation under attack struggled, finally breaking free of his sons’ hold and quickly moving away from the tweezers by launching himself at the door.
“You fucking locked it!?” He yelled, pulling at the door hopelessly.
“Oui, bien sûr. We could not risk having you escape since your eyebrows are so…horrible!” She paused, giving a devious smile. “Mais, don’t worry. One of us has the key for when it’s all said and done. Now, stop fighting and give in.”
“Never you frog bastard!” Arthur could shout all he wanted, but the fact remained that he was still locked in a bathroom with his crazy and determined enemy-turned-wife and twin sons who were physically stronger than either of their parents. His eyebrows were doomed.
But then, the trapped-like-a-rat Nation heard a familiar tinkling laugh and a key fell into his hands. Maybe the fairies weren’t traitors after all. Quick as a flash, Arthur had the door unlocked and was gone.
“I forgot about the fairies,” Marianne said forlornly, sighing while she placed the tweezers by the sink. “But I will get those eyebrows one day. This will not be another defeat by the French!” She vowed to the empty bathroom, not noticing that the twins had snuck away, their hair still uncut.
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I had way more fun writing that than I've had writing anything XD
Pretty sure the only new French term I used was s'il te plaît which means please. If you don't understand a term, feel free to ask :)
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Arthur walked into the dining room still wearing his magical cloak, the hood pulled over his head, conveniently hiding his eyebrows. Alfred and Matthew entered next, the latter with his hair pulled back with one of his mother’s more sensible ribbons, the former sporting a choppy haircut. When Marianne joined her family with the food, she raised an eyebrow at the piece of hair on Alfred’s head that was determined to defy gravity, but chose to leave the matter alone for the time being since his hair looked more or less groomed. She did, however, send a glare at Arthur when she forcefully put his plate down, causing some of the food to end up in his lap. “Désolée mon petit chou,” She said icily before taking her seat, matching Arthur’s returned glare.
The tension in the room was palpable, and the twins quietly poked at their food, not wanting to make more noise than possible. Things might have stayed in a tense limbo had Matthew not dropped his fork. The loud clatter of metal acted as the catalyst that broke the uneasy truce and had Arthur and Marianne up and yelling at each other in a more ancient form of English and French. From what little Alfred and Matthew could understand, their parents were cursing the day they had ever met each other and they had no idea why they were still trying when the other was too stubborn for his (the boys thought it odd that they only used masculine pronouns while arguing, but never worked up the courage to ask why) own good. Feeling uncomfortable, the boys attempted to leave the dining room, but their movement reminded their parents that they were still in the room and, red faced and panting, the older Nations retook their seats and attacked their food, acting as if nothing had happened.
“So, Alfred, did you ever find out what happened to le lapin that used to come around?” Marianne asked a moment later, giving the boy a small smile.
Alfred shrugged, shoving a bite in his mouth. “I don’t know, never found him,” He said around a mouthful of food.
“Alfred. Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Arthur scolded, slightly amazed that the boy could still be understood what that much food in his mouth. A worthless talent sure, but unique none-the-less.
“Ugh, fine, father,” Alfred said around another bite of food, smirking at the angry look on his father’s face. His smirk disappeared an instant later when he felt Matthew’s elbow dig sharply into his side…again.
“Don’t you think he’s annoyed enough? Do you really have to antagonize him?” His timid brother whispered, silently hoping his father didn’t overhead.
“Of course I do. It’s fun~” Alfred not-really-whispered back, grinning. “Besides, better he’s angry with me than maman,” He continued in a much quieter voice. Matthew nodded in reluctant agreement.
Arthur cleared his throat, ready to say something else to Alfred when there was a loud crash coming from the back of the house. Arthur and Marianne jumped at the sound, but Alfred let out a very-manly-for-an-eight-year-old scream and was in Arthur’s lap the next instant. “It’s a ghost! I told you the house was haunted!”
Arthur awkwardly patted the boy on the head then attempted to dislodge him, but Alfred only held on tighter. “Alfred, I told you, the ghosts in this house are friendly and don’t like exerting the energy needed to move things. I’m sure it was just a cat or something.” The boy looked unconvinced and Arthur sighed. “Look, let’s go see what it was. If it is a ghost, I promise to protect you, ok?” Alfred nodded and moved off his father’s lap, but refused to let go of his hand as they followed Marianne and Matthew out of the room. Arthur shook his head in bewilderment at the older twin’s reaction. For such a brave child, Alfred was surprisingly easily scared.
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French translations:
Désolée: Sorry
Mon petit chou: A term of endearment. Literally translates to "My little cabbage"
le lapin: The rabbit
The character limit. Such a pain in the butt XD
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