AN: Hi everyone! :D

This is my first Hetalia fanfic, so I don't know if I will get France, Seychelles and Jeanne d'Arc completely in character. My apologies if I don't keep them in character and for any grammar/spelling mistakes I missed. Still, I hope you enjoy this :)

Disclaimer: I own this hot chocolate, the mug that it is in, these permanent markers, this phone, this globe, this desk lamp, and that cupboard with my manga and anime collections over there, Hidekaz Himaruya owns Hetalia and the picture used as a cover for this story belongs to the respective artist.


In her Image: the Strength to Smile

The girl was a silhouette against the setting sun, and stood out against the vibrant orange-red sky. The light reflected on the ocean blinded her, but her eyes were still trained on the water that lapped around her dark legs and lifted when waves formed. Knee-deep in the water, she was bent over and waiting patiently for the next fish to swim near her. The hem of her dress was soaked, but this didn't bother her.

A movement in her peripheral vision didn't escape the girl. With lightning fast reflexes, her hands darted towards the large fish. The fish was caught between her hands as she raised it out of ocean triumphantly. It squirmed in her grasp, but she was strong enough to keep it from escaping. A wide grin shaped her lips as she turned towards the shore. She practically skipped through the water, the crashing waves not bothering her as she made her way back to the beach.

Her eyes wide and the grin still in place, she looked to the witness of her great catch. "Look, France, I caught another one!"

The said Frenchman smiled with a sense of pride. "So I can see," he said when she stood in front of him, the fish eat the level of his eyes for him to see.

"Can you cook this one tonight?" she asked.

"Whatever you want, ma chérie." He watched her as she went to the basket filled with her findings from today, including fruits, vegetables, and some smaller fishes. She put the fish in the basket and moved it aside so she could sit next to him.

Once she plopped down next to him, she looked out to the sunset. The sky was beginning to be dyed in the colours of night, and the first few stars started to appear on the horizon. Her grin became a smile as she looked to France, who stared out to the sunset as well.

The man that sat next to her had amazed her at first. He was so different from her, with his pasty white skin, light blonde hair that was tied back with a ribbon, and blue eyes. That was she liked most about him. His eyes were almost the same colour as the sea, and were the first thing that she saw aside from his hair colour. Though frightened of him when she first saw him, she became intrigued by him the longer he stayed on her island.

The first time he saw her was on the night he had landed on the island. He and his men had set up camp on the beaches, and just as the full moon had risen, she decided to investigate his campsite. She remembered sneaking around the campsite, ducking out of sight from the other men and coming across things she had never seen in her entire life. When she saw that the blonde man from earlier, she saw a bowl of fruit she planned to collect that day. Irritated, she decided to steal them back from the foreigner, to claim the fruit that was rightfully hers – in her opinion. She waited until he and the other men were asleep. She snuck over to his tent, with her basket ready, and managed to get three of the fruits before she became intrigued by the sleeping man.

With those ocean eyes closed, he looked more frightening to her. She noted the difference between the man and her, such as their skin and hair colours. She remembered going in for another fruits but accidently pushed bowl off the table, awakening the man. She remembered seeing his shocked face for a brief second before sprinting off into the night.

He didn't give chase that night. In the morning, he found her, sleeping amongst the trees and bushes. When she woke up she saw him, smiling down at her. Then he spoke in the language that she would later come to learn from him. "Bonjour…"

It wasn't long after that he introduced himself as 'France'. She had no name to introduce herself with. He eventually came up with a name for her, and she took an immediate liking to it.

"Votre nomsera ...Seychelles."

The girl was brought back into the present by the wind that swept across the beach. It tousled her chocolate brown hair and his blonde, loosening some of the strands from his ponytail. His eyes were filled with a lulled contentment, one that she recognised at this time of the day when everything would fall into darkness.

The girl knew that this would be the last time she would see France in a while.

Tomorrow he would leave to go back to his homeland across the seas.

He didn't give a reason because she never asked. She was too afraid to hear the answer. They had been together all this time, but was he getting tired of her? Did he want to leave because he was bored here with her?

The girl had been educated by him about the country France, from its culture to the buildings and landmarks. He made it sound like a distant world, far from her grasp. It was beyond her in so many ways. She wondered what would happen when he went back. Would he forget about her and never come back? She felt panic rise at the thought.

She shook her head, trying to get the thoughts out of her head. Of course, this didn't go unnoticed by France, who raised an eyebrow at her behaviour. "What is wrong, ma chérie?"

She let her sadness shine through her eyes and expression as turned to face him. Her eyes were pleading and wide, a child desperate not to lose their parent.

"F-France," she stuttered ", are you leaving tomorrow because you're bored here? Are you going to leave me forever?"

She didn't expect the look of surprise and bewilderment that shaped his the moment the last question left her lips. He gave a surprised chuckle, unsure how to respond. This only worried her further. She bit on her lip, waiting to accept the inevitable.

"How could I forget you, Seychelles?" he said, a gentle smile shaping his lips. "And I'm not leaving because I am bored, pas du tout! I have nothing to be bored about here. It's always an adventure with you, ma chérie. An enjoyable one of that." He gave her a wink.

"Vraiment?" she asked,not entirely convinced.

His smile widened. The emotion in his eyes was one Seychelles had not seen before, but it was warm and kind. He ruffled her hair playfully as he gave his confirmation."Vraiment, Seychelles."

She had the urge to smile back at him, but pressed on with the question that she wanted to ask. "So then…why are you leaving tomorrow?"

He stopped ruffling her hair. As he drew his hand back, the gentle smile disappeared, and in his eyes she saw another new emotion. It was a longing that darkened the blue hues of his eyes with nostalgia and sadness. The shadows of the setting sun played on his face, showing the creases in his forehead and brow. Concern rose in her as she realised she had never seen him make such an expression before, and that it both frightened and saddened her to see it.

Just as Seyechelles was about to vocalise her concern, a sad smile graced the Frenchman's lips. He looked away from her back to the darkening horizon. "Do you remember when I told you about Jeanne d'Arc?"

The girl nodded, remembering the details of the deceased woman's story. She fought for God, that ultimate being France sometimes spoke about, and for the king of France. She fought against the Anglais, but in the end, paid the ultimate price for daring to cross and fight against them. She was burned, and no one, not even the king she served, came to rescue her.

"When I get back, it will be close to the day of her death, in May. I need to get back to pay my respects at the Seine…and I don't know when I will be back, ma chérie. I promise I will come back though, soon."

The girl felt like he wanted to end the conversation there. However she persisted as she thought back to when he told her about Jeanne d'Arc. When France had spoken to Seychelles about Jeanne, she thought he was acting odd. He spoke with such passion about the woman, and with the same sad smile he wore on his face now. She didn't understand why until now.

"Avez-vous adorez Jeanne d'Arc?" she asked, her voice cautious.

France wasn't looking at her. He had his turned away, looking across to farthest edge of the beach. There was a long pause before he answered.

"Oui," he answered ", you figured it out…I loved her…Non, I still do." He chuckled brokenly. His voice was weak, almost frail. The girl had never heard him speak in such a tone.

She let her impulses get the better of her and asked him "Do you…miss her?"

"Elle me manque! Elle me manque tellement!" His sudden response made her jump and gasp. Almost immediately, he bowed his turned head and said "Forgive me, ma douce…"

Wanting to see his face, she stood up from her place next to him and slowly moved to where his head was turned. She should be frightened or scared to approach him because of his emotional outburst, but she was more concerned for him than anything else.

The girl was shocked to see her flamboyant, ever-smiling France look almost completely hopeless, like a lost child.

"France…?" Seychelles trailed off, unable to come up with any coherent response. A memory came back to her as she stared at him. She remembered when she learned from him that Nations can live on forever, but humans cannot. Therefore, centuries often felt years, even months, to some nations. Centuries had gone by and France was still mourning for Jeanne. His Jeanne, gone in the sands of time and ripped from his side in one of the most vicious ways possible.

Jeanne was human, but he still loved her with all of his heart. He knew the consequences and the complications of their relationship, but he pursued it. He loved her to the point where nothing else seemed to matter.

In the end he watched her die, hopeless to save her. Her death must have only felt like a year or months ago to him.

Seychelles wondered how he found the strength to smile after that.

Seeing the single tear fall from the eyes she adored was the last straw. She didn't realise she was crying until a sobbed jolted her body. She let the sobs take over and she wailed. She let the rivers of tears fall but tried to wipe them away. The girl felt responsible for France's sadness, now she felt guilty, confusion, and so many other emotions. She never wanted to see France upset. She wanted to see him smile, always. Wherever his strength came to smile she didn't care. She just wanted France to be happy, always.

Seeing Seychelles sob and cry shocked France out his memories of Jeanne. He watched her with wide eyes and she collapsed on her knees into the sand. In all the time he had spent with her he had never seen her in such a state. He had seen her weep and cry, but now she was like a desperate child as she sobbed helplessly. "S-Seychelles, what-?"

"I'm sorry, France, I didn't mean to…I-I'm sorry! D-D-Don't cry…please don't be sad."

He couldn't help the sad laugh that escaped from his throat. "Why are you crying, Seychelles?" His voice was throaty, a low, raspy whisper. He whipped the stray tear on his cheek away with back of his wrist and reached out for the girl with both hands. "Come here…"

She looked up from the sand to his outstretched hands. He had an odd, reassuring smile, and another stray tear escaped from the edge of his eye. It shone in the setting sun, making his tears look like diamonds or fallen stars.

The girl hesitantly put her hands in his. He gently pulled her towards him, keeping his eyes on her the whole time as he spoke. "I'm all right, Seychelles. I don't know why you are apologising; it's not your fault,ma chérie." He sat her on his lap and let go of her hands to wipe the rest of her tears away. "Don't cry anymore, Seychelles, it doesn't suit you." He meant it as a joke, but his tone was too serious.

She nodded in his hands and sniffed. Her sobs hand calmed down when his fingers wiped away her tears. His hands were warm but rough against her soft skin. She blushed a light pink when she realised she loved the feeling of his hands on her cheeks.

"It was about three centuries ago when she died," France whispered ", but she still lives on, in the hearts of those who remember her. However, I think one day, God will grant my wish."

"Your wish?" Seychelles asked.

"Oui, I made a wish to God a long time ago. I believe, one day, years or maybe centuries later, those who have been 'toyed with by history' are always reborn."

"Reborn?"

"They are born into the world again. It may take centuries, but I believe that Jeanne will come back again. I'll find her again, and this time, we'll live a happy life together."

Seychelles watch the man in front of her shed another diamond tear as the look of utter hopelessness changed to one of hope and determination. His smile turned into a grin, a hopefully grin. She couldn't help but smile back.

She leaned forward and whipped the stray tears away with her small hands, surprising him. "I'll believe that too, France. She'll come back one day, I'll pray for it, I promise."She leaned away, her smile stretching from ear to ear. "When you find her again, can I meet her too?"

He chuckled, his hands come over hers. "Of course, ma chérie, of course. I think you two will get along very well. You act like her in many ways, actually."

Seychelles was surprised by this. She leaned in again. "I am? How?"

"You both have an inner strength and determination that I admire. You have a fire in you that Jeanne had from the moment I met her. Her courage is much like yours too. Being on an island all alone and surviving all these years without someone takes a lot of courage, Jeanne was like that too. And also…you're both very cute."

The girl's cheeks darkened at his compliment. She looked away in embarrassment. "I'm not cute!"

He laughed. "I am only speaking the truth,ma douce!"

The two 'argued' until the sun had completely disappeared and night had coloured the island. They went home – to the small house that France had his men build for her – had a superb dinner prepared by France, and not long after both went to bed.

However, Seychelles couldn't sleep. The girl tossed and turned in her small bed, the day replaying in her head. She knew that when the sun would rise, France would be gone. He said he would come back and she believed him.

The girl saw the new expression of France flash before her eyes. First the sad ones, and that one that had a kindness and warmth she loved. She wanted to see that expression again. Maybe would find it when he found Jeanne again. She made a silent prayer to God, asking that Jeanne come back again for France.

She wanted to pay her respects to Jeanne as well. The woman meant a lot to France, and by her definition, that meant she meant a lot to her as well. An idea bolted through her mind. Realising that sleep would never come and that the sun would soon rise on the horizon, Seychelles got up from her bed and tiptoed down the hallway to the front of the house. She passed France's room, the door opened halfway.

She looked into his room, seeing that most of things were packed for the morning. Her eyes wondered to the bed, where she saw the Frenchman sleeping. He breathed heavily, his torso rising and falling with every breath he inhaled and exhaled. His hair untied and fanned around him on the pillow. It reminded her of the night they first met, only this time, she wasn't stealing anything from him nor was she afraid of him.

Seychelles knew this man now. She smiled at the thought as fulfilling emotion filled her heart.

She reached out and closed his door without making a sound. Tonight she would not have to run into his arms because of nightmares. Tonight, she was far too awake to fall asleep. She crept out of the house, running off into the night to do the task she had set herself.


France stood on the beach as the sun began to rise over the horizon, bathing the sky in the vibrant colours of dawn. He was dressed in the clothes had wore when he came to the island – a long, dark blue hat with a white feather on the side, a trench coat of the same blue colour with gold trimmings on the hems and around the cuffs, white pants, and black boots. His ship was already out at sea, and now all that was left was for a few of his men to prepare the final boat to row back to the ship. In the distance he could see a storm approaching, and he knew if he and his men didn't set sail soon, the storm would make their condition on sea difficult.

However, the storm was not the main concern on the France's mind. He had woken up to find Seychelles gone. He searched for her around the house and then in surrounding forests. He called out her name, searched for her in the trees and bushes, but there was no sign of her.

"Lebateau est prêt" one his men informed him.

He didn't want the boat to be ready. He made his way to the small boat but stopped and turned back to the forests. He wanted to go back into the forests to find her, just make sure she was safe if nothing else. Though, deep down, he knew he wanted to see her so she would say goodbye to him. He wanted to tell her he would come back, just like he promised.

France would never have imagined that a girl would come to mean so much to him, and part of him didn't want to leave until he saw her again. However, he had to leave before the storm. Reluctantly, he turned back to the small boat and made his way down to the sea. He stepped into the boat, and his men pushed the boat off the beach into the water. They began to row when the water was knee deep. France looked back to the island, his eyes searching the coast for even a movement in the ferns and bushes. When he saw none, his eyes became downcast. He bowed his head.

"Attendez!"

France's head shot up as he heard the faint cry. With wide eyes he looked back to the shore. There was nothing at first but then he saw a blur of white and tanned skin rush towards the sea.

It was her.

"Attendez! Attendez, France!" the girl cried out.

Without hesitation, France jumped out off the boat, not caring that his pants and coat became drenched nor that his hat fell off. One of his men leaned out the side, calling out to his leader "Sir, nousdevonspartir avant latempête arrive!"

"Donnez-moiun instant!" France called back sternly at the man without taking his eyes off the girl.

Seychelles panted from sprinting towards the sea. Panic ran through her when she saw France leaving, and with all her might, she called to him to wait. There were tears in her eyes, but she ignored them as France approached her. She kept her hands behind her back, making sure to keep what she had made was out his sight.

"You had me worried,ma douce," he said with a relieved grin. "I thought you weren't going to come and say goodbye."

"Forgive me, France," she said, looking away in shame. She had worried him…but she didn't have time to focus on that. She turned back to him, a determined expression on her face. "France, I…I want you to give take this Jeanne." She brought her gift out from behind her back and presented it to him. "If you could put this on her grave or on the river where her ashes are, I would really like it. Also…I will be waiting for you. Please, come back soon."

France could only stare at the beautiful, tropical red flower wreath Seychelles held out t him. Was she away this morning making this for Jeanne? It almost a perfect circle, but the flaws didn't matter to him. He looked back to the girl, a sense of pride washing over him and a touched smile gracing his lips.

Instead of taking the wreath, he reached into this coat. This confused her as she watched him retrieve two red ribbons. What only confused her more was when he reach out and parted her hair down the middle and tied either side with one of the ribbons. She took one hand away from the wreath to touch the ribbons. "France…what?"

"For you, ma cherie," he said. I'll come back, I promise."

He took the wreath from her hands, careful not to crush any of the flowers. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. He chuckled at her shock as the hand that touched the ribbons went to her cheek. He took her in one last time, from head to toe. "Au revoirpour l'instant, Seychelles."

"Au revoir, France" she said, trying to keep a smile in place.

France slowly backed away from her, and turned back to the small boat in the distance. He waded through the water, keeping the wreath above the water. He climbed back on to the boat with help of his men, keeping his hold on the wreath. One of the men handed him his hat as they started rowing towards the ship.

Seychelles watched as France was rowed away, the setting sun behind him. He became a silhouette on the sea. She didn't want him to be a silhouette on the sea. She wanted him back. She wanted to show more of the island, go on more adventures with him, eat his cooking, and run to him when she had nightmares in the middle of the night. She wanted to see his smile, to hear his laugh, to hear him all her 'ma cheire' and 'ma douce'.

Tears fell and she ran into the sea until it reached her knees. She clung to the skirt of her dress as she cried out to him in a desperate voice "I'll miss you! Tu vas me manquer ! Je… Je t'aime! Je t'aime, France! JE T'AIME!"

She could hear him calling back, but she didn't know what he said. She watched as he became smaller and smaller on the horizon, and then as his boarded his ship which disappeared into the storm.

Despite the feeling of longing that made her heart clench, she knew he would come back. No matter how long it took, she would wait for him to return. She was an island nation, and she had to be stronger than any of the other nations she heard about from France. It wouldn't be long until France would come back, and she smiled, already thinking about what she would cook for him when he returned.


Against the setting sun was no longer the silhouette of a girl, but that of a woman, dressed in a pastel blue dress and her hair tired on either side with two red ribbons. As the centuries passed, the girl slowly matured into a young woman. And just as France had promised, he returned to her months later that year he left. Over the centuries, he came back to the island to be with the girl, and in the process helped raise her into becoming a nation and woman. However, his visits became rarer when she unwillingly became part of England's colony. It wasn't until recently that she was able to win her independence from the nation, much to her relief. Despite winning her independence, she and England managed to stay good friends.

Despite that though, she had come to learn about and meet many nations. Her horizons were broadened, and she didn't regret any of the experiences she went through. They made her the woman she was today. The capable, beautiful nation she was.

"Bonjour ma cherie!"

Seychelles jumped when she heard the greeting. She looked up from the sea billowing under her dress and knees to the beach. Like many times, there stood France, his hair loosely tied back and wearing white shirt, a button-up vest, and rolled up red pants. Not a day had aged him. He was still the handsome nation she knew from her childhood.

She walked to the shore, grinning. "Francis!"

She had learned his human name, something that came to call him on many occasions when it was just the two of them. She didn't understand why, but she felt calling France by his human name was improper and rude in front of anyone else.

"I didn't expect you to be here," she said. She was stunned when France pulled her in for a hug, his arms coming around her waist securely. She hugged back, taking in his sweet and spicy scent. He smelt of chocolate, pastries, and wine. It was his natural scent, which she much preferred over the cologne he wore most of the time.

She raised her head abruptly when she felt his hands move down to her buttocks.

France sighed. "My, my," he said "how you have grown, Seychelles."

She pushed him away, a reflex she found herself using quite often when she was around him. "Please stop doing that!"

"What? I am simply admiring how much you have grown, ma douce."

"But do you really have to go ahead and do those things to know how much I've grown?!"

Her embarrassment gave way to annoyance as her cheeks blushed a shade almost the same as her ribbons. She remembered when she was a girl and in her early teen years he never acted like this, but the moment she became a matured woman, he started making some advances on her. She would never fully understand French culture she realised.

"All right, I won't,ma cheire," France eventually replied, his hands up defensively. "I came here to see you."

Annoyance subsided in Seychelles and now she looked at the Frenchman with a sincere smile. "Thank you…It's been a long time."

"Two years, almost. I have been rather busy with other matters and with the other nations, but I had to make time to see you."

She didn't want to admit she missed him. When she was a girl, she was more honest with her feelings, but now she had changed and she couldn't be as honest with him about her feelings. She didn't understand why. She trusted him and loved him, though she wasn't sure if it was the love for a father or older brother, or if it was the other kind of love she had seen between various nations. The kind of love that France held for Jeanne d'Arc.

The name hadn't been brought up in centuries, and when it came to her head, she felt a burning question in her throat. She didn't want to ask it, in case the answer would be in the negative. However, her body took control, and she asked him. "Did you ever find Jeanne d'Arc again?"

Taken aback by her question at first, France stared at her as if she had asked him to marry her. She frowned, about to take back what she said when he laughed. It was a loud, surprised laugh that caused her to giggle when he threw his head back and put his hands on his hips. Seychelles noted how he seemed lighter, as if a huge weight had been lifted off his chest.

"You read my mind, ma douce!" he proclaimed to the sky "How did you know that I was going to tell you about her?"

"I-I didn't," Seychelles admitted, aghast ", but does this mean you've found her then?"

France looked away from the sky and back to the confused woman by his side. He nodded. "I found her again. She is the spitting image of Jeanne! I could hardly believe it when I saw her. I thought I was looking at a ghost, but it wasn't until I approached her that I knew she was real!"

From there, France went on to tell how he showed the Jeanne reincarnation – named 'Lisa' – around some of the historical locations. He spoke with a wide grin on his face and his ocean eyes were bright with a spark.

She was happy for him, but she felt a tiny pang stab at her heart. It was sensations like these that made her wonder about what sort of love she held towards France. Jeanne had come back into France's life. He was immensely happy, that much was obvious to Seychelles. She should be fully happy for him, so why did she feel herself force a smile on her face?

"I'm so happy for you, France," she said, her heart not fully meaning the statement ", congratulations."

France frowned. "Why are you congratulating me?"

"You've found Jeanne again. You can be happy with her, and this time, history won't interfere."

France's frown turned to a thoughtful smirk. His eyes became half hooded, shading his eyes from the sun. He sat down on the beach, watching he waves crash on the shore. "True, history won't interfere this time. However, I am not be by her side."

Seychelles' brows furrowed. She stepped to France, believing he hadn't asked Lisa to be with him just yet. "But you are pursuing her, non?"

As she sat next to him, he briefly glanced at her. "Non, I'm not."

Shock shot through the woman, causing her to fully turn to France with a look that demanded answers. "Why? You said that when you found her again you would be together!"

France shook his head, still looking at the waves. "I did say that, but I learned since then, ma cheire."

He paused, his lips parted as if he was going to say more. She waited for him, utterly shocked and confused by the sudden change of plan. He turned his head to her, looking into her eyes almost piercingly. She felt her mind was on display to him, but she wouldn't look away. Those eyes that she adored drew her in, like fish to bait.

"When I told you about Jeanne centuries ago, I was still mourning. I believed she would come back, because someone like her deserved a happy and normal life that history wouldn't spoil. I wanted to be part of her life so badly, so I had convinced myself that I would become part of her new life again, and this time I would do everything to protect her if she needed it.

"However, I learned what I should have learned all those centuries ago. She could be happy without me. It's what she needed. In order for her to live a normal and happy life, I needed to let her go. She is still human, and I will on forever. Here would be happiness for a time, but I would eventually come to mourn her again. Also, if I interfered with her life, could be leading her away from her destined happiness."

"But you love her, don't you?" Seychelles asked.

"Of course I do, but Lisa isn't my Jeanne. She is a rebirth of Jeanne, and she acts like her in so many ways. I love Jeanne, and in some ways, I might love Lisa, but I love Jeanne to the point where I have to let her go. Part of love, ma cheire, is having to let go when the time comes for the other to be happy or when the other needs to go."

Seychelles saw the honesty in his eyes, the emotions he held for Jeanne. She knew he spoke the truth, even though it hurt him to do so. Jeanne would always hold a place in his heart, no matter how many centuries went by. He would never love a woman like he loved Jeanne.

That hurt Seychelles. It cut into her deeply, and she had to look away from him so he didn't see the hurt in her eyes. "Are you sure you don't want to pursue her, France?"

He took a moment before he answered her. "I am just happy that God granted my wish. He works in mysterious and beautiful ways, and the moment I saw Lisa, I realised that. It also made me realise he may have granted my wish earlier then I thought."

Seychelles turned back to him, successfully masking her hurt. "How so?"

She quietly gasped when France took her hand into both of his. His hands were still rough from all the centuries of war, but they were warm as the rays of sun that touched her skin. However, she found that his eyes were warmer. She recognised the emotion for all those years ago. She couldn't believe she was staring into the emotion.

"I was led to you, ma cheire. I think it was fated for us to meet. I've told you before that you remind me of Jeanne in many ways, and I'm beginning to wonder if her spirit was reborn in you. However, I came to like you because you are Seychelles. I understood after the first time I had to leave you why I was drawn to that island, to that girl on the beach who woke me up in the middle of night, stealing food from me and running off into the forest."

He raised one of her hand to his lips, lightly kissing her knuckles. "Thank you, Seychelles."

Her eyes widened at the gesture. "F-For what, France?" she stuttered as her heart skipped a beat.

"Ma cheire, thank you for giving me a reason and the strength to smile again." He leaned forward, and kissed her forehead. His lips stayed in place for a long moment, causing Seychelles to blush again. Even so, the kiss wasn't what ran through her mind. She gave him a reason to smile again? She was…the strength to make him smile again after Jeanne's death? She felt a tear prick her eye, but unlike years ago, she didn't let it fall.

His lips left her forehead, and as he leaned back, she took his hands into her own. As sincerity and genuine happiness filled her, she grinned. She realised just how much this man had helped her. He has helped raise her. Without him she would have been lost in a world of war, love, peace, grief, and chaos. If it weren't for the man who sat beside her she would never have learned the meaning of the most important emotion in the whole world.

"I believe it fated for us to meet too," she agreed, a sweet smile gracing her lips and her affection for him glowing in her eyes. "I learned the meaning of happiness and how to smile only because of you, France. I learned what it means to be happy and give it to others. I learned what it means to be loved and to love."


Fluffy and sappy ending is fluffy and sappy ending XD

I'm so sorry if my French is bad, I had to get my mum and a friend of mine to help me with it and both of them are a bit rusty with it because they haven't done it in a long time ^^; :

Ma chérieMy darling/dear.

Votre nomsera ...Seychelles – Your name will be…Seychelles.

Pas du tout!not at all!

Vraiment? – Really?

Jeanne d'ArcJoan of Arc (though I think everyone knows this one)

AnglaisBrisitsh/English

Avez-vous adorez Jeanne d'Arc?Do you love Joan of Arc?

Oui - Yes

Non - No

Elle me manque! Elle me manque tellement! I miss her! I miss her so much!

Ma douce - my sweet

Lebateau est prêt – The boat is ready.

Attendez! – Wait !

Sir, nousdevonspartir avant latempête arrive !– Sir, we have to leave before the storm arrives !

Donnez-moiun instant – Give me a moment.

Au revoir – Goodbye (I think everyone knows this one too XD)

Au revoirpour l'instant – Goodbye for now.

Tu vas me manquer ! – I'll miss you !

Je t'aime – I love you (I think we all know this one by now XD)

I've recently come to love France. He wasn't one of my favourites at the start, but when I learned about his life with Joan of Arc and Seychelles, I began to really like him. Aside from Germany and a few other characters, he's one of my favourites now.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this little one shot and reviews are greatly appreciated :D

Thanks again and keep writing!

-Warrayfinson