He wasn't sure why he was there; the rest of the allies wouldn't have bothered.
-------January 27th, Present day-------
The snow crunched softly as a solitary blonde made his way between the rows of graves in a small cemetery in southern France. He eventually stopped on a slight hill about halfway down a row. Bending over he reached out a hand to brush the snow off the name.
Aliz Vichy Bonnefoy
Though Francis had known about Aliz before the war, he didn't meet her face to face until his surrender to Ludwig.
-------Compiègne, France June 22, 1940--------
Francis looked across the table at Ludwig, who was currently signing the surrender armistice, before glancing around. Francis had been in this railroad car before, but as a member of a winning alliance, not a surrendering nation. Ludwig had deliberately chosen this spot as a humiliation; to get Francis back for the humiliating treaty he had forced Ludwig to sign in the same spot in 1918.
The soft rustle of paper brought Francis' thoughts back to the situation at hand, as Ludwig pushed the paper and a pen across the table. Despite the unease Francis had been feeling since the capture of Paris, he knew he had to sign.
Reluctantly Francis picked up the pen and signed his name. As soon as he set the pen down though, Francis stood and left the rail car.
"Francis, wait." Ludwig had just emerged from the car.
"Quoi?" Francis turned.
"I want you to meet someone." Ludwig said as a young teen stepped out from behind him.
Francis inhaled sharply as he noticed that she shared the same honey-gold waves as him. She also shared the trait of blue eyes, though the shade was closer to Ludwig's.
"Francis, I would like you to meet Aliz Vichy Bonnefoy, the lady of occupied France. Ludwig paused for a second. "And I believe from the last name, your cousin."
"Oui." Francis extended a hand to take Aliz's in his. Leaning over he kissed the back of it. "It is wonderful to finally make your acquaintance."
"I could say the same." Aliz said before giving Francis a quick peck on each cheek. Aliz gave Ludwig a quick glance before whispering. "And I'm sorry you have to take orders from a nation much younger and more inexperienced than you."
Francis sighed. "Don't blame yourself, like you said; you're still too young to understand completely.
-------Paris, France December 7, 1941-------
There was a clang as metal met metal and sparks flew. Francis and Gilbert broke apart, glaring at each other.
Francis had disappeared shortly after the signing of the surrender armistice and Gilbert had spent months trying to find him. Eventually Gilbert had traced Francis to Paris on information from trusted friends. There was no way Francis was getting away this time.
Gilbert charged again, aiming for Francis' side. Francis was ready though, blocking Gilbert's blade before it could do any damage, knocking it aside, and aiming a retaliatory blow at Gilbert's shoulder.
The Prussian's sharp tongue and sharper sword had found some of Francis's weaknesses and the next second Francis had dropped his sword, pressing a hand to his shoulder where blood was staining his coat. Gilbert rested the point of his sword against the hollow of Francis' throat.
"I win. You're a German acquisition now."
-------Present day-------
Francis had been forced to live under her for four years, forced to feel the pain his people suffered at German hands. And yet…
"I miss you, mon cherie."
Aliz had cared about him even though she represented the German occupation of France.
-------Omake-------
-------December 7th 1941-------
Alizea dodged out of the way as Francis aimed for her shoulder, quickly circling so they were once again facing each other.
As far as Alizea was concerned, the only good thing about Francis's and her confinement to the house was the extra time to practice swordsmanship. The result being that Alizea had been coming closer to disarming Francis with each session.
The last time Alizea had practiced with Francis she had figured out a possible strategy but couldn't put it into action. This time would be different.
When Francis charged her again, Alizea sidestepped out of the way, catching the blade of Francis's sword between the outermost petals of the fleur de lis. A flick of the wrist later Francis's sword had gone skittering across the carpet and the tip of Alizea's sword was resting against Francis's neck. Francis's shock lasted for only a minute before he smiled.
"Alright, I surrender." Alizea sheathed her sword and went to retrieve Francis's before speaking.
"Looks like I'm finally as good as you."
"Maybe. That's still only the first time you've done it," Francis said as Alizea handed him his sword and Francis sheathed it again.
"I'll do it again, just wait." Alizea said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. A sudden knock on the door startled both of them, and a moment later one of the resistance's security personnel had come in.
"Jeanne wants both of you downstairs now." Francis and Alizea exchanged worried glances before heading downstairs.
"What happ- Antonio!?" Entering the room, Francis changed direction mid sentence as he noticed Matthew holding a green eyed, brown haired male in a tan colored uniform.
"We found him trying to sneak into headquarters; he said he needed to speak to you Francis." Matthew said, the tone of his voice making it clear that, for the moment, he didn't trust the Spaniard.
"Antonio, what are you doing here?" Francis asked. "I know you're a neutral country, but are you not putting yourself in harm's way by coming here?"
"I'll be okay. I'm here because I wanted to make sure that Paris was okay. But the more important matter is that you may be in danger."
"How?" Francis asked worriedly. Antonio started to answer but was cut off by Matthew.
"How do we know we can trust him?" Francis glared at him.
"Antonio wouldn't be helping me if he was on Ludwig's side. And I would appreciate it if you would let him go; he hasn't done anything to you."
Reluctantly, Matthew let go of Antonio. He still didn't fully trust the Spaniard, but something in Francis's tone said that he was a friend and wouldn't do anything to put Francis or Alizea in danger.
"Antonio, continue please." Alizea started slightly. Under the calm, collected nature Francis usually displayed, there was a hint of panic.
"Gilbert called about a week ago to complain about how hard it's been to find you, and during the conversation I mentioned that I'd seen someone who looked similar in Paris. Gil hung up almost immediately afterward, and I have a nasty feeling he's headed here." Antonio paused. "You have to get out of Paris, Francis."
Francis froze for half a second, at a loss for words, before glancing at Alizea. Antonio followed his gaze.
"I'll get her to safety." Francis glanced back, relief flickering across his face for the briefest of seconds.
"Merci." Antonio managed a weak smile, but didn't lose his seriousness.
"You're welcome. Now get ready. Gilbert could be in the city already." Francis nodded.
"Let's go."
"Use the back; you won't be spotted as easily." Jeanne called as Francis, Alizea, and Antonio sprinted up the stairs. In their room Francis and Alizea donned their swords and traveling cloaks, Alizea noticing a flicker of worry cross Francis' face when he traced the rose engraved on his sword handle.
Outside the room they rejoined Antonio, and the three of them headed for the back door of the house. Once outside they quickly crossed the yard, heading for the back gate. Antonio pushed it open a crack and glanced around the back ally.
"All clear, let's go."
Antonio had just closed the gate behind them when he spotted a small yellow chick sitting on the fence across from them. Antonio paled slightly and pulled Alizea behind a stack of crates and broken furniture leaning against the fence.
"Francis Run! Gilbert's here!"
"Too late," someone chuckled darkly.
Francis whipped around to see a red eyed, platinum blonde wearing a Prussian blue uniform standing a few feet away. He was accompanied by two other men wearing German SS uniforms.
"Don't make this difficult."
"I'm not going to surrender that easily Gilbert."
"Then you leave me no choice." Gilbert drew his sword. "You're not getting away from me this time Francis."
Francis just had time to draw his sword and raise it into a defensive position before Gilbert charged at him.
There was a clang as metal met metal and sparks flew. Francis and Gilbert broke apart, glaring at each other.
Gilbert charged again, aiming for Francis's side. Francis was ready though, blocking Gilbert's blade before it could do any damage, knocking it aside, and aiming a retaliatory blow at Gilbert's shoulder.
Gilbert caught Francis's sword, and for a moment the two were face to face.
"You're getting slow, old man. Or are you worried that you'll slip up again and kill someone else?"
Gilbert smirked at the flicker of shock in Francis's eyes before pushing Francis's blade away. Francis took a step back, stumbling slightly, and Gilbert saw his opportunity. Before Francis could recover Gilbert had lunged, aiming for Francis's shoulder. Francis couldn't get his sword back up in time.
Behind the crates Alizea had to clap a hand to her mouth to stifle her scream. Antonio set a free hand on her shoulder.
The next second Francis had dropped his sword, pressing a hand to his shoulder where blood was staining his coat. Gilbert rested the point of his sword against the hollow of Francis' throat.
"I win. You're a German acquisition now." Gilbert turned to one of the officers accompanying him. "Restrain him."
"Why?" Francis asked angrily as the officer pulled his arms behind his back and tied his wrists.
"Because I can't have you running off with your tail between your legs. You've done it enough that I'd wager you're pretty good at it." Gilbert muttered, sheathing his sword and moving to stand in front of Francis. The Prussian drove his fist up into Francis's ribcage with a great deal of force.
"That was for making me look all over France for you." Gilbert said, bringing his arm down on Francis's neck sharply, sending him to his knees. A swift kick to the face sent him sprawling. Gilbert rolled Francis onto his side none to gently with a booted foot.
He turned away from Francis, walking a couple steps to the fence where the bird was perched. The bird gave a happy chirp and fluttered to rest on Gilberts shoulder. Gilbert walked back to Francis, who was trying to sit up. Gilbert drove his foot into Francis's gut, full force.
"That was just because I felt like it." Gilbert said, smirking. He put one foot in the middle of Francis's chest and leaned his forearms on it. "How's it feel to be under the awesome Prussia, scum?"
When Alizea tried to run out from her hiding place, Antonio held her back.
"We'll be putting ourselves in danger if we try to help Francis now, the important thing is to get you to safety, and hope for the best."
Francis coughed, the weight of Gilbert's foot forcing the air out of his lungs and crushing his chest. Gilbert laughed madly, leaning more weight on his foot before letting up suddenly and grabbing Francis by the hair. Francis gritted his teeth in pain as Gilbert hauled him to his feet and pushed him out of the alley way, kicking him in the back when he moved too slowly for Gilbert's tastes.
Antonio held Alizea back until Gilbert, Francis, and the German soldiers were well out of sight. Alizea stopped fighting to get away and Antonio wrapped an arm around her shoulders to guide her away from Paris.
"Don't worry. The Allies will find a way to rescue him. Right now, all you can do is keep yourself and your sisters safe while this blows over. You can stay at my house for a while, it will be safer there."
-------Author's Notes-------
Author - Phoenix / Beta - Shadow
Sorry that this chapter is devilishly long, there wasn't really a good stopping point in the middle.
Francis - Why did you have to break away from the Bad Touch Trio, Gilbert? Antonio and I are still friends.
Gilbert - I'm just too awesome to associate with the like of you, now that you can't pull your own in a war.
Francis - Why you-! I'm not as much of a coward as you seem to think I am!
Gilbert - So you do admit that you're a coward?
Antonio - Thanks for reading and please review. I have to go break up that fight.