The rediscovery of England

France had long ago felt his eyes glaze over as he stared out of the carriage window and watched the scenery drag past. He wished he'd not woken up yet, with so long to go until Scotland.

Opposite him, Austria had kept up a painfully long and detailed story about Hungary that he needed France's love advice for. He sighed and nodded at a slight pause, assuming that Austria was waiting for a sign of interest.

Sometimes, it was hard work being the country of love; every little relationship issue was discussed with him, as if he cared. Love was wonderful, but France believed in the freedom to do as you wish, of impulsive love declarations resulting in passionate, successful relationships. To his dismay, the recent fashions of shyness and humility made fast-paced love a rare thing.

"Austria, you love each other. Don't worry about…" he waved his hands in the air generally "…this. Countries have loved before. Win her through music. Then..." he was cut off as a carriage wheel rolled over a large stone and slammed back to the floor. Both men bounced in their seats and grimaced at the sudden pain of their crotch. France groaned and leant his head against the window, pleading for this journey to not be much longer. He heard Austria whimper and a little smile broke onto France's lips despite the pain – he'd never heard such a sound come from him before.

"Idiot driver, if we were in an Austrian carriage, this would never have happened." France stopped smiling at that comment, this was one of his personal carriages and he loved it. For Austria to even suggest there was a problem…

"Feel free to walk, crétin." Austria tutted at the insult and both resumed staring out of their respective windows. After a while of awkward silence, France heard the sound of another pair of horse hooves, and craned his head, trying to see.

'Is he handsome?' France wondered hopefully; he had always had a thing for the British. They were on the way to a world meeting in Scotland, and since Austria had been staying with France, he suggested they travel up together. They'd been asked to keep an eye out for England, but of course he'd kept well away from them. It had been many years since he'd abandoned his duties as a country and disappeared. The country was rather lawless because of it, but Scotland had taken over duties for the United Kingdom and despite his dislike for his neighbour, was keeping an eye on things.

A flash of black brought him back to the present. A large dark cloak billowed in the wind and France raised his eyebrows in approval as he noticed a well shaped behind. A white shirt was filling with wind and France noticed a long pistol in a holster at his belt.

The man was expertly controlling the horse to catch up with the carriage, and as he came alongside them, France got a glimpse of pale white skin and of wild blonde hair peeking out from under a black tricorn hat. The rider had a mask over the top half of his face and a red scarf wound around his chin, so to France's disappointment he could hardly see the man's face.

France felt fear churn inside him as the man pulled the gun from his belt and overtook the carriage, gun aimed at the driver. France could no longer see what was happening, but was aware of the carriage pulling to a stop. Austria hadn't seemed to notice the man, and was about to complain when he heard a shout.

"Stand and deliver!" the voice was English. France realised how bitter irony could be. His sexy English rider was a common criminal.

The carriage shook as the driver and servant got down, and France felt sick with worry. He'd heard about highwaymen, and was currently in possession of one of his greatest treasures, a ring from his love. He took it on journeys to wish him luck, hoping her spirit would be with him, since for hundreds of years her body could not. Right now, he knew he had mere moments to hide it, so wiggled it from his finger and shoved it inside his breeches, for lack of time to think of somewhere more sensible.

He ignored Austria's disgusted expression and before long, the door was thrown open and the man peered inside, looking at the two countries. As he saw France, his expression changed from an arrogant smirk to one of fear. France was confused, he was not used to causing such a reaction.

"Get, get out." He croaked, and a confused France followed Austria as they stepped out and onto the road next to the others.

The man grabbed Austria's hands and expertly pulled off the rings before placing them in a pouch. France was grateful for his quick thinking as he thought of the ring in his trousers.

Austria pulled out a coin purse and reluctantly held it out to the highwayman, who snatched it and walked over to the horse's saddlebag and put all of Austria's things there. France felt his heartbeat increase as he realised it would be his turn.

The man walked back shakily, adjusting his scarf higher. As he took France's ringed hand in his own, he trembled slightly, and almost dropped the first ring as he removed it. France felt his brow furrow, he was no longer scared but curious. What was it about him that scared the man?

Exasperated, France gently pulled his hand away and helpfully slid off the rings before dropping them into the man's hand. His eyes darted up to meet France's gaze and it was then that France knew who it was. The man realised it too, and instantly looked down, the rings still gripped in his hand.

France wondered what to do. What could he possibly say to convince England to return to being a country, to stop his new life of crime? England stiffly walked to his horse and was fumbling with the bag.

France pulled out his bulging coin purse and shook it; England came back to him, drawn like a kitten to a bell.

As he extended his arm, France smiled confidently and grabbed it, pulling the scarf off and pocketing his purse before yanking the mask down and England's frightened face stared back at him in horror.

"I should have just left. Oh fuck." France pulled England into a hug, wrapping his arms around the smaller nation. Austria, who still hadn't realised who it was, was looking awkward – was France really desperate? The next comment had his thoughts stamped on, he was irritated with himself for not having noticed.

"England, come with us." France tenderly stroked England's scruffy hair and saw his eyes nervously flit around, not meeting his own for more than a second.

"Don't call me that."

"But, mon cher…"

"No! I don't want to be part of this, this stupid game anymore! The world is going to destroy itself with or without my help. Don't you understand, you stupid bloody man? There is nothing we can do!" He kicked a piece of mud away and France was glad it had missed him.

"Arthur, do you remember what I told you when we were (little children)?"

England blushed at the use of his human name, and shook his head.

"I don't want to run a country. I want to stay here with you."

"I know mon chér, but I have one to help too. You will make all your people very happy I am sure of it. You have a good, I do not know the word…"

Arthur saw Francis point to his chest and giggled.

"Heart, silly Francis. What's that supposed to mean anyway?"

"Ça ne fait rien. If you do your best for your country, they will be strong. You are never on your own, mon chér. Don't forget big brother France!"

"You aren't my big brother! But I wish you were. They are nasty." Arthur rubbed his face against his friend, and felt warm and safe…and happy.

Francis smiled and pulled Arthur up in his lap. They were sitting together in England, watching the English Channel and listening to the gulls calling. Arthur was snuggled in Francis' lap with his little hands playing with a ruffle on his shirt. He'd been sliding down and Francis pulled him gently up and changed position, sitting Arthur on his leg. The little country leant against him again, feeling sleepy.

"Lets always be friends," Arthur murmured as he drifted into sleep, and Francis lay back on the grass slowly, letting Arthur lie on his front. He laid an arm over the sleeping boy as he himself felt his eyelids close, the sound of the sea mingled with their synchronized breaths.

"I said you loved your country, they would do well if it were so now."

"How dare you say that? I love England, I do! I just…" he trailed off, anger immediately being replaced with sorrow. "I feel empty inside. How could I face the king anyway? How can I meet anyone in the eye, after what I've done?"

France took his chin and jerked it upwards, forcing England to meet his eyes. This time he didn't break contact, and France fought with himself to not kiss him right then.

"I'll be with you, if you ever need anyone mon chér."

"I missed you, Francis." France felt his heart melt at the sound of his name once more, and before he knew it, England had slowly placed his arms inside France's jacket and wrapped them around him, putting his face against his chest, just as when they were children.

"Come with us. You won't be alone, we can come up with an excuse on the way if you want a cover. Please don't leave me again, I was crumbling away!"

"You are full of lovey nonsense," England smirked and pulled Francis tighter against him, barely aware of the older nation's tears falling on his hair.

"You're crying." He muttered; voice muffled by the clothing. "Stop crying, I'll go with you." A strange sound, combining glee with tears and general emotion sounded from France's lips and Arthur pulled away.

"You croaked, haha that was an actual croak! I'll never let you forget, Frog." He grinned and France laughed, through his tears whilst dabbing his eyes with a sleeve.

Austria had climbed into the carriage to avoid being an awkward spectator, the servants following his example and returning to their own seats. Imagine their surprise when a tearful France led the blushing England with him, before telling the driver to carry on to the meeting. Arthur was about to panic about his horse, but Austria told him they'd added it to the other horses to pull the carriage.

Francis was suddenly aware of the ring, still in his britches. Grinning, he thrust his hand down there and both Austria and England shouted at him to stop being vulgar. England's face went deep red as he tried to stare out of the window, unfortunately catching himself watching France in the reflection.

"What the hell are you doing?" Arthur shouted as France produced the ring, and replaced it on his finger.

"Couldn't have you stealing it, mon chér. This is Jeanne's." Arthur looked down, just one of his mistakes in history. What's worse, it wasn't entirely his fault, yet history had remembered him for it.

"I shouldn't be here."

"Non, non don't be like that. Aha, we are off now. No choice!" France giggled as he edged up to England, and whistled to himself whilst taking England's hand.

"Idiot." England smiled and squeezed his hand before attempting to tug away, failing. Austria thought of Hungary back home, taking mental notes of their behaviour and how he could replicate it back home.