Re: Are You Sleeping, Brother John? [4/4]
anonymous
June 18 2009, 17:55:17 UTC
“They say he died of consumption,” Francis murmurs, his voice high and eerie. A bottle slips from his fingers and rolls back and forth on the floor, brown and filled with liquid.
Arthur can’t read the label. He doesn’t want to.
“They - they said he was fine with Monsieur Simon,” he said. “They - they never told anyone of how they made him rut with whores. They never told anyone of the humiliation - the fear - they never told anyone of how he cursed and swore on his parents’ names.”
Francis breaks off and laughs, broken, quiet. Arthur makes his way into the room, slow and careful.
“They never knew of how he died without any human contact, alone in a filthy cell. But I know, dear Arthur. I know. I was the one who brought the dauphin his food, every day.” He rubs his cheek against the blankets; some dried, crusted blood smears on the white. “I was the one who listened to his silence.” He grins, and his teeth glint in the candlelight. “The bastards didn’t think to test his food for poison.”
“Francis.” Arthur’s lips and tongue feel so numb.
“It’s for the best, right?” Francis laughs so hard that he almost cries. “The people do not want a monarchy. Louis-Charles does not have to suffer. And I….” Francis’ eyes are wild as they bore into Arthur’s. “I do not have to watch the boy grow up into a power-guzzling, arrogant, pompous bastard who would -”
Arthur surges forward and folds Francis tightly in his arms. Francis freezes as Arthur presses a dry kiss to Francis’ blood-stained cheek.
They don’t say anything for a few moments.
Then Francis starts to tremble, hard, hard enough to dislocate all the joints in his body. Hands come up and clasp at his back.
“They took my children from me,” he whispers in horror. “They - God took Louis-Joseph, and Austria took little Marie - god, God, why Louis-Charles? Why did the dear have to suffer?”
Arthur feels warmth spot his shoulder, and he knows it’s staining his clothes. He doesn’t care. He clings, and he listens.
“Hush, poppet,” he soothes, smoothing Francis’ hair as he descends into babbling, sloppy French. “It’s all right. He’s sleeping now, Francis.”
Bells in the distance, the roar of a crowd; somewhere in between, Arthur knows there was the rush of a guillotine’s blade.
Re: Are You Sleeping, Brother John? [4/4]
anonymous
June 18 2009, 18:29:31 UTC
Man, you had me in tears for this. Francis breaking down slowly. “I do not have to watch the boy grow up into a power-guzzling, arrogant, pompous bastard who would -” This line really hits the spot.
Re: Are You Sleeping, Brother John? [4/4]
anonymous
June 18 2009, 22:50:59 UTC
I enjoyed it very much. Granted, FrUK and serious!France are both things I tend to enjoy very much, but I like the athmosphere you built here very well - the contrast works like it should, ouch.
Re: Are You Sleeping, Brother John? [4/4]
anonymous
June 19 2009, 13:04:11 UTC
Oh. Ohh... gosh. I remember looking up the royal children after they told us about the Queen's trial in history- it was horrific. To think that a Revolution founded on such beautiful ideals would do such things to children is horrific.
You've portrayed all of it beautifully- between Francis' affection, even as he kills Louis, Arthur's trying to make it better, the links to their old relationship and the overall imagery, this has got to be one of the best Hetalia fics I've ever read.
As the other commentors have said, I love how you portrayed France's affection towards the children because it makes it all the more tragic when they all end up dying, being taken away or turning into "a power-guzzling, arrogant, pompous bastards".
I loved what England says to comfort France and that ending line is so heartbreaking... A perfect way to end a perfect fic. Thank you so much for the great fill!
Re: Are You Sleeping, Brother John? [4/4]
anonymous
June 22 2009, 12:05:27 UTC
“They - they said he was fine with Monsieur Simon,” he said. “They - they never told anyone of how they made him rut with whores. They never told anyone of the humiliation - the fear - they never told anyone of how he cursed and swore on his parents’ names.”
YES. OH GOD YES.
This fic hurts in more ways than one. *tears* Brilliant anon!
Arthur can’t read the label. He doesn’t want to.
“They - they said he was fine with Monsieur Simon,” he said. “They - they never told anyone of how they made him rut with whores. They never told anyone of the humiliation - the fear - they never told anyone of how he cursed and swore on his parents’ names.”
Francis breaks off and laughs, broken, quiet. Arthur makes his way into the room, slow and careful.
“They never knew of how he died without any human contact, alone in a filthy cell. But I know, dear Arthur. I know. I was the one who brought the dauphin his food, every day.” He rubs his cheek against the blankets; some dried, crusted blood smears on the white. “I was the one who listened to his silence.” He grins, and his teeth glint in the candlelight. “The bastards didn’t think to test his food for poison.”
“Francis.” Arthur’s lips and tongue feel so numb.
“It’s for the best, right?” Francis laughs so hard that he almost cries. “The people do not want a monarchy. Louis-Charles does not have to suffer. And I….” Francis’ eyes are wild as they bore into Arthur’s. “I do not have to watch the boy grow up into a power-guzzling, arrogant, pompous bastard who would -”
Arthur surges forward and folds Francis tightly in his arms. Francis freezes as Arthur presses a dry kiss to Francis’ blood-stained cheek.
They don’t say anything for a few moments.
Then Francis starts to tremble, hard, hard enough to dislocate all the joints in his body. Hands come up and clasp at his back.
“They took my children from me,” he whispers in horror. “They - God took Louis-Joseph, and Austria took little Marie - god, God, why Louis-Charles? Why did the dear have to suffer?”
Arthur feels warmth spot his shoulder, and he knows it’s staining his clothes. He doesn’t care. He clings, and he listens.
“Hush, poppet,” he soothes, smoothing Francis’ hair as he descends into babbling, sloppy French. “It’s all right. He’s sleeping now, Francis.”
Bells in the distance, the roar of a crowd; somewhere in between, Arthur knows there was the rush of a guillotine’s blade.
“Brother John is sleeping.”
___
Well, that’s it. Some info on Louis-Charles: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louis_XVII_of_France.
Hope you all enjoyed that somewhat.
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Arthur... Francis... '~'
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This is such a beautiful and terrible thing and OH GOD FRANCIS. *hugs*
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You've portrayed all of it beautifully- between Francis' affection, even as he kills Louis, Arthur's trying to make it better, the links to their old relationship and the overall imagery, this has got to be one of the best Hetalia fics I've ever read.
Reply
As the other commentors have said, I love how you portrayed France's affection towards the children because it makes it all the more tragic when they all end up dying, being taken away or turning into "a power-guzzling, arrogant, pompous bastards".
I loved what England says to comfort France and that ending line is so heartbreaking... A perfect way to end a perfect fic. Thank you so much for the great fill!
Reply
YES. OH GOD YES.
This fic hurts in more ways than one. *tears* Brilliant anon!
I've always fancied Francis a royalist.
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