Author's Note: Why did I write this? Because France needs more love and the fanbase needs to see his wonderful, serious side more often (It's extremely heartening that people have complimented me for doing this in a couple of my other works). Also, I love 18th century France, so why not?
Disclaimer: Hetalia is owned by Himaruya-san, history has already happened, and I'm simply dabbling around with Himaruya's clever ideas to develop and expand some of my favorite characters (and write about some of my favorite people too).
Reincarnated Royalty
Top of the world! That's how France felt today. Peering out his apartment window, he gazed fondly at the summer sunrise coming up above the horizon. Le ciel était clair, l'air n'était pas humide, et il n'a pas eu de guerres. Il a su que le temps sera beau aujourd'hui (1). His morning ritual completed, France set about making breakfast so that he could head out and do some shopping aux marchés (2). It was Sunday after all.
France believed in many things because he believed whatever his people believed. Yes, he was strongly Catholic because that's what most of his people were, but if there was even one person of a different religious faith, then he felt that faith too and it was a part of him. There were very few things that France personally believed in, and it was something that only the other nation-people like him could understand and appreciate. He was a romanticist long before the word was even invented - it was his nature - and he had believed for centuries, with no proof or any reason except for wistful fantasy, that all those good, wonderful people that had suffered horrific tragedies beyond the ordinary hazards of every-day life that make up the history of nations, would be reborn and allowed to live a normal life without destiny's tragic interferences. He'd believed it, truly, for centuries, because he couldn't accept that those people would never have another chance.
He finished his crêpe avec Nutella et des cerises (3) and left his apartment, locking the door behind him, and headed down the stairs to welcome another Sunday and acquire food for dinner that night. He was feeling up for a filet de bœuf (4), perhaps the châteaubriand (5) section if he could find any. If not, then he'd be just fine with a filet de poisson (6). Of course, whether he was having beef or fish for supper would drastically change his choice of wine for the evening, but he was well-stocked at home with a wide selection from all across his house, with even some Italian vintages for variety, so that would be no trouble at all.
Needless to say, it wasn't exactly a Christian belief, much less a Catholic one, but it was his and that was all he'd ever needed. France had never lost faith in it; not once. And at last, at long last; his faith had been rewarded. It was… five years ago. Just a short five years ago, he had met her again, and not in his dreams or from consuming too much whiskey with Scotland either; it was real. She was real and reborn. One of the very few women that he had honestly loved. She was not born as Jeanne, but Lisa, and she wasn't his Jeanne except in face and her basic character (she wasn't even French), but she was reborn as an ordinary woman with an ordinary life and an ordinary destiny, and she was happy. That was all he had needed to see to be content. After all this time, his faith had finally held out and proved itself. And to think that it was only five years ago. Regardless, he hadn't expected his faith to prove itself so quickly a second time.
"Oh, bonjour Mademoiselle, those peaches look wonderful!" France said to the young woman at the vendor upon approaching the stand and getting a good look at the fuzzy orange fruits. He picked one up and squeezed it. "Feel wonderful too and almost ripe, perfect! The harvest has been well this summer?"
"Very well so far, Monsieur, merci," she said with a slight smile. "We've had a decent amount of rain which has kept them fresh and juicy without flooding them."
She was very attractive. She was quite fair, with blue eyes and blond hair so light it was almost pale gray or white, and she looked… quite familiar. He couldn't quite put his finger on why though. She sounded like someone he'd known before too; had he met her already?
"Well, that's very good news, Mademoiselle. Now I think… a half-dozen will satisfy me, ma chérie. Choisissez les meilleures pour moi, si vous voudrez (7)."
"Bon, d'accord, Monsieur (8)," the young woman (for she was young) replied and set about gathering the six fruits.
France watched while she did so. She examined each of them with almost grave, concerned scrutiny. He'd seen that face before. Not on her; he was sure now that he'd never met her, but he'd definitely seen that exact expression before during one of the dark moments of his history. Which one? When? It was- Who was it? He'd seen that expression during a time of heavy bloodshed in his house, he remembered that much. Three events instantly came to mind: both World Wars and the Reign of Terror that followed the First Revolution. That face. Those eyes. A knowing smile found its way to France's lips. Oh, he knew who she was now. She was Marie. Marie Antoinette reborn an ordinary woman with an ordinary life far away from the center of government and politics, and still so young. Grown-up, but young.
"Pardon me, Mademoiselle, I know this is very forward of me, but what's your name?" France asked, "You remind me of someone I used to know."
"Je m'appelle Claire, Monsieur (9)," she answered, never once wavering from her careful ministrations over the fruits. "Claire Marchbleu, if that helps you at all."
"It does, thank you. Are you alright, Mademoiselle? You're not overburdened with anything, are you? Are you happy?"
She lifted her gaze from her work and frowned at him. "And why are you asking me such questions, Monsieur?" she asked, her tone guarded.
"Je suis désolé, Mademoiselle (10)," France said with a dry laugh and a sad smile as his memories of a bygone age and his last true queen returned to him like a fog in the early pre-dawn morning, "The girl that you remind me of; right before she died, she always had such a solemn expression on her face, not knowing which day would be her last, but she was so strong… right up to the very end." He looked back at Claire, the modern Marie Antoinette, staring at him with such confusion and pity. "I suppose for a moment there, I was imagining you were her and living the life she could never have had. So you'll have to humor this old man, s'il vous plaît (11)."
Claire laughed, "Un homme agé (12)? Come now, Monsieur, you can't be that old! Why, you look like you're in your early 30s, that's hardly old…" she slowly stopped laughing and stared into his blue eyes, unwavering from hers. He looked thirty, but his eyes seemed so much older, like he'd seen and lived through more than he possibly could have in his lifetime; His eyes were much like ceux de son grand-père (13), a man who was a veteran soldier of the Second World War. She didn't know him, but somehow, he wasn't a stranger. Like her grand-père, he was someone that she could trust, and perhaps him talking to her would help take away that sadness from his eyes. "What were the questions again, Monsieur?"
"Nothing difficult, Mademoiselle. I just want to know if you're happy. Anything worrying you? Got any future plans for your life? Des garçons intéressants (14)?" he added with a sly wink.
"Non, non, pas de garçons (15)," she responded with a laugh, "Not at the moment anyway, and I've always got my friend, George, to back me up if I'm in a bind."
Depending on how similar Claire's life was to Marie's, France was almost willing to bet Versailles that George was Louis XVI reborn as well. He hoped it was so; Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette had always been friends and he wanted that to be true for Claire as well. Heh, perhaps if George was Louis, then he finally had the chance to become a locksmith like he'd always wanted.
"I suppose I'm alright with my life," Claire said with an indifferent shrug, "I'm pretty secure running the family business, unlike many young people these days and my home life is good too. Although…" she looked a little troubled, "I haven't… told anyone else, but I just… feel like I can trust you. I feel a little restless. There are days, weeks sometimes, where I just feel so wild and reckless and want to do something spontaneously, like traveling across all of Europe to learn all the cultures I can, or going to Africa to improve those peoples' lives, or anything! And then the mood will pass and I'll be perfectly content living here and selling the fruits of our labors. I'm sorry I'm telling you this; it's silly, right?"
France smiled at the English-spoken pun and shook his head. "Not at all. Young people are traveling a lot more these days than they ever did before, especially those trying to start businesses since it's so difficult for new businesses to really take root here. It can be scary, oui, but it can also be great fun too. It's more fun traveling with friends even. There's nothing wrong with traveling to other countries to see what else is out there in the world. So give it a try, Claire. Voyage au quatre coins de la planète (16)."
She looked thoughtful and then smiled and nodded. "I think I might. I might just do so, Monsieur. Merci pour m'écouter (17)."
France beamed at her and opened his wallet to pull out the money for the peaches. "Mon plaisir. Where do you think you might like to travel first?"
"Hmm, haven't thought about it often," she said as she took the Euros and counted them out. "But I think I would like to visit Austria." France's head shot up, but she didn't seem to have noticed and carried on, "I've always loved the Alps, but I've already been to Switzerland - I went skiing there when I was younger - and it's pretty close to France compared to other countries, so yes, Austria would probably be the first country I'd visit."
"I think he'd like that," France murmured under his breath.
"Hm? What did you say, Monsieur?"
"Oh, rien, rien. Bonne chance avec vos voyages et bonne journée ma chère Claire (18)," France said and kissed both her cheeks after accepting the bag of peaches from her hands.
Slightly overwhelmed by his familiarity, only then did she realize that he had never told her what his name was, but when she went to ask him, he was already gone and she couldn't see him down the street in either direction. She had a feeling she wouldn't see him again anytime soon, if ever.
Yes, France had waited a long time for his faith in human rebirth to be proven and it had taken a long time, but it was proven at last. He was happy for these small victories against his history; that Lisa, Claire, and George would be able to live normal lives unhindered by the destinies previously fulfilled by their predecessors. He wondered what other historically-tortured souls he would meet in future centuries.
I apologize (not really or I wouldn't do it) with how out of hand I get with my French. It's just that it's the only language that I know apart from English (bleh), so when I write France (and French people), I can't help but have them speak it.
(1) Le ciel était clair, l'air n'était pas humide, et il n'a pas eu de guerres. Il a su que le temps sera beau aujourd'hui - The sky was clear, the air wasn't humid, and he didn't have any wars. He knew the weather was good today.
(2) aux marchés - at the markets
(3) le crêpe avec Nutella et des cerises - Crepe with Nutella and cherries (Nutella is a chocolate that a lot of people spread - like butter or jam - on bread products for their morning meals).
(4) filet de bœuf - French for an English "filet mignon" (because a French filet mignon usually refers to pork) which is just a steak cut of beef taken from the smaller end of the tenderloin.
(5) châteaubriand - the larger central portion of a filet du bœuf.
(6) filet de poisson - cut of fish (literally)
(7) Choisissez les meilleures pour moi, si vous voudrez - Choose the best for me, if you will.
(8) Bon d'accord, Monsieur - equivalent to "Of course, sir"
(9) Je m'appelle Claire, Monsieur - I'm called Claire, sir.
(10) Je suis désolé, Mademoiselle - I'm sorry Miss.
(11) s'il vous plaît - please
(12) un homme agé - an old man
(13) ceux de son grand-père - those of her grandpa
(14) Des garçons intéressants? - any interesting boys?
(15) Non, non, pas de garçons - no, no, no boys
(16) Voyage au quatre coins de la planète - Travel around the world (loosely-translated)
(17) Merci pour m'écouter - Thanks for listening to me
(18) Oh, rien, rien. Bonne chance avec vos voyages et bonne journée ma chère Claire - Oh, nothing, nothing. Good luck with your travels and good day my dear Claire.
Strongly based off of the idea from the Hetalia strip "À bientôt" where France met the reincarnation of Jeanne d'Arc. God, I love the strips where France is serious, like that one and "Though I May Depart, You Shall Remain". He's so… fatherly/grand-fatherly when he acts like that and I love it. I wish he was serious more often though. Lisa neither had the same name as Jeanne, nor was she even French, so the way I figure it (and based upon what France said in that comic strip), reincarnated Marie Antoinette shouldn't (and can't because that's not realistic) have the same name and doesn't have to be Austrian either. I think that even though during and before the French Revolution, the French people hated Marie Antoinette, I think that France himself would have liked her because he was in a position to know exactly what was going on, from both sides and Louis XVI wasn't a bad guy either, he just wasn't fit to be king, especially France in the state that it was during the late 18th century. Ahhh, I love 18th century France (*cough* and Europe *cough*) soooo much. There's just SO much that happens! ! !
I had a bit of difficulty deciding how I wanted France to meet the reincarnation of Marie Antoinette actually. I managed to finally decide on her being a vendor and I chose the name 'Claire' because it means 'clear', like having a clean slate. Initially, she was an apple vendor, but then just as I was about to write that, I remembered that apples were a fall fruit, and this was taking place in the summer, so I was wondering what fruits would be ripe and ready in the summer which is how I got peaches. My mentioning of France having Italian wines is mostly because I went to some store over here that had a bunch of different stuff from different countries and I saw that Italy had a lot of wines too, so I figure that France is the kind of person who would collect wine and would have more types than just those from his own house. Speaking of houses, I tried to recreate the scenes from what I remembered of my two weeks in France (would love to go back there again) and I don't think I did a shoddy job of it seeing how it's been about five years now.