The Sun Shines at the Strangest of Times
The plague ravages the lands of Europe, and sometimes the suffering can be too much for even the nations. They seek out comfort in the most desperate of times. FrUK, France x England, slightly historical fanfic, much fluff and comfort.
The trees looked blurry. The clouds looked blurry. Nothing on this beautiful summer's day of 1349 looked right, or beautiful like it supposedly was. Arthur sighed, although it was more of a gurgle or a wheeze really. He should have been enjoying this
/warm, sunny day, one of the few his country provides in a year, but he couldn't. The sun was too bright, the air too hot, the humidity causing him to sweat profusely. Or maybe it wasn't the humidity. Sweating was probably a symptom too; he didn't
/bother to ask what they were, he didn't feel like knowing what would come next in this affliction. Except he knew he wouldn't die. He would continue being alive and having to suffer with feeling the pain of, not thousands, but millions of his precious
/people fading away in an unimaginable manner - pained, grieved, suffering. The Plague had been here for about a year now, and it was reaching its peak.
Arthur mulled around relatively happy in his own company, or at least as happy as he could be when he had a splitting headache to think over and was unsuccessfully attempting to ignore the constant stabs to his heart as more of his people died.
~o0O0o~
Francis didn't know why he was in England. He would usually call it cold and stuffy and boring, despite how today the sun was shining like he imagined God might. Although he has accepted it now. How could he believe there was really a God who loved themlike
/He was supposed to when there were millions and millions and millions of innocent men and women and children still out there, their lives, their hopes, their fears, their suffering and chances of happiness, all intertwined in each other's
he decided not to rely on someone who wouldn't even help them in times like these. After stumbling through some trees and fields to seek out a private place to relax where he wouldn't have to hear anyone's cries of anguish and grief, let alonehis
/own people's, he saw a slim body lying peacefully in a field of daisies.
"Hello?" Francis ventured, his voice hoarse from the sickness seemingly plaguing everyone throughout Eurasia. The person flinched, his peace disturbed, and attempted to whip his head up to discover who had found his beautiful area of solitude. That wasbefore
/appearing to remember that he was in no fit state to be performing sudden movements if he was like everyone else who was sick, and groaning in pain while turning his head more consciously. Once facing each other, Francis recognised the bushy
brows instantly.
"Angleterre?"
"Frog?" Arthur exclaimed with similar disgust. Though they could both tell they were happy to see each other, despite how they would never admit such a thing. Francis examined the younger man's face and figure. He looked thin, unhealthy and tired, withprominent
/bags under his eyes. His previously pearly skin was too pale with tones of green and rashes inflicted by the illness. The Briton's eyes were the same stunning emerald, but he could no longer see the formidable spark formerly accommodatedthere.
/Francis felt pity for Arthur, although he knew he looked the same.
"What the bloody hell are you doing in my country, Frog?" Arthur questioned, his voice coarse but still strong.
"Honhon, well it's nice to see you too mon cher." Francis gave a slight smirk and slumped down on the grass next to Arthur, feeling the fatigue setting in from walking through the countryside while ill. "If you really have to know, I wanted a
/break
from seeing my own people die. Though it's not exactly easy over here either."
"God, of course you have to bring it up," Arthur said with a scowl. "It's not as if I'm not thinking about that disgusting plague enough already."
"Well it's not exactly an avoidable topic. I can tell you're suffering just as much as I."
Arthur sighed and plucked weakly at the daisies hiding between the vivid blades of grass."...Hey, Francis?"
"Hm? What is it, Arthur?" Francis noticed the younger man seemed hesitant; embarrassed.
"How long are you going to be staying here? I mean, not that I want to ask but it is common courtesy for a gentleman... so I suppose you could always stay at my place if you really have to…" Arthur flushed and looked away, still frowning furiously.
Francis chuckled quietly with a smirk, "Why mon lapin, I'm simply touched you want me staying with you, who would have known you care so much."
Arthur turned bright red. "Why you-" he spluttered before descending into a coughing fit, practically hacking up his lungs.
"Arthur-" Francis muttered worriedly, hurriedly reaching forward to comfort him and stroke his back until he calmed back down. Arthur winced in pain at the effects of the disease.
"Don't touch me, frog." he rasped, but he made no move to pull away from the Frenchman's comforting hands. "You're a real tosser, you know. Coming to my country and bullying me like this."
"If you insist," said Francis, amused at Arthur's strange ways of displaying affection. "And I'd love to stay with you mon amour. I think even we could do with some company at times like this."
"Tsk, I guess you'd be right…"
Francis pulled Arthur into gentle embrace suddenly. The Briton tensed up from the gesture before seeming to accept his fate within Francis' arms, and they lay there for a while, just enjoying each other's company. Hegave a light sigh, and his eyes
started to hood and eventually flutter shut. Francis smiled sincerely at the sight of Arthur so exhausted and the lack of opposition to his affection. He looked up to the sky, squinting at the brightness of the birthof a sunset and feeling slightly
dizzy, but comfortable with the cooling of the air. He couldn't care less about his sickness at that moment, ignoring the splitting headache and crawling skin, and found himself cherishing the opportunity to see theyoung Englishman dozing and
peaceful in his hold.
He didn't want the moment to end.
But soon Francis found himself also feeling drowsy, despite having to suffer through many a sleepless night, unable to seek refuge in the void of sleep, or when he did have it plagued by nightmares of death and disease. He lay back further onto the cushionedcarpet
of flowers, Arthur still in his arms, and fell asleep knowing that he would be able to sleep peacefully without giving a care in the world about priorities or hisresponsibilities as a country. And he knew Arthur would too. Somehow the piercing
/deaths of his people stabbing at his core faded into the background behind the tranquil juncture.
"Je t'aime, mon petit Angleterre."
Both nations slept at ease that night, caring about nothing but each other.
Translations:
Angleterre = England
Mon cher = My dear
Mon lapin = My bunny / rabbit
Mon amour = My love
Je t'aime, mon petit Angleterre = I love you, my little England
Hey y'all, I hope you enjoyed. I'd love any likes or comments, but you do you ;D. This ended up pretty fluffy but I'm good with that hehe. I'll see you soon hopefully!