A/N: I decided to write a Hetalia fic based on Les Miserables(by based I mean the same thing with my own words and a few plot twists) because I love the musical so much, and the movie was simply brilliant. Being as the story is set in France I believe it's fitting for France to be Valjean.

~All rights go to their respective owners.~

A large group of men in shackles stood against the pounding waves as they pulled on thick ropes attached to an over turned ship. The chains clanked together, the sound filling the air along with the grunts of over worked men and the waves pounding against them. Uniformed men roamed around, keeping an eye on the prisoners. All of the filthy and battered men kept their eyes trained on the ground, refusing to look into the eyes of the law. Most of them had given up hope, manly the ones who had been enslaved the longest, but a few of the younger ones had a rebellious fire in their eyes. One man, a prisoner with long, greasy blond hair, and a short stubbly beard, had a burning passion in his eyes.

After the day of labor the men were herded into a prison, to be caged like wild animals. One police man, with slicked back blond hair and blue eyes, stopped the prisoner and spoke with a heavy German accent. "Retrieve the flag," he told him. The prisoner turned and staggered off to retrieve the French flag that lay in a pool of sea water, it was tattered and still attached to the broken mast of the ship. His grimy hands slid under the splintered wood, and with a sudden burst of strength he hefted the heavy mast over his shoulder and dragged it towards the policeman.

"Prisoner 24601, your sentence is up," the German said flatly, "being as you are a dangerous man, you will be on parole for the rest of your life. Do you know what this means?"

"It means I'm free." The man said happily.

"Don't let your imagination wander, 24601, you get a ticket of leave. That cannot change the fact that you are a thief."

"Don't call me by a number, my name is Francis Bonnefoy. All I did was steal a loaf of bread to feed my family."

"And my name is Ludwig. You'd do best to remember that. Your family will starve again if you can't learn to obey the law."

Francis let out a bitter laugh. "I've been a slave of the law for nineteen years."

"Your sentence would have been five years if you hadn't tried to run." Ludwig glared at the man before pushing a folded piece of parchment into his hands. Francis gripped the papers and climbed the steps of his personal hell, glancing back at the other slaves and the policemen. Ludwig's eyes followed him until he vanished from sight.

For weeks, wherever he traveled Francis was regarded as a thief. Innkeepers refused to let him stay at their inn, and countless job opportunities turned him away. All because of the slip of parchment that said he was a criminal. A dangerous man not fit to be treated the same as everyone else. On a cold winter's night, he was settling down to sleep outside of a church when a large hand tapped him on the shoulder. He sat up quickly and stared at the tall blond in fear.

"It is too cold to be sleeping outside. You should come inside, Да?" The Russian man asked kindly. "I am the bishop, Ivan. Who are you?"

"F-Francis Bonnefoy." Ivan gripped his arm tightly and lifted him effortlessly.

"I insist you stay the night with me and my sisters." He dragged him along as he entered the church. "Natalia, Katyusha, get some food for our guest. He looks starving."

"Merci, Monsieur. What could I do to repay you?" The Russian looked thoughtful for a moment before smiling creepily.

"Allow me to think about it, because none of the things I can think of are proper to say in church." He led the Frenchman to a long wooden table and sat him down. A silver bowl was placed before him, and a young girl with long blond hair spooned some stew into it. Another girl, with short blond hair and large breasts, set a goblet of wine onto the table along with the bowl. "Before we eat we must pray," Ivan said as he saw Francis stare hungrily at the food, "Thank you, God, for my sisters' good health, and for our guest. May your blessing be with us as we eat this meal. Amen." Francis then started eating like a savage, the girls gave him strange looks, but Ivan just smiled happily as he began to eat as well.

After the meal was finished and the silver put away Francis was led to his chambers. He lay there until the candles had burnt down about half way. Evil thoughts crossed his mind, these people were well off. Why did he deserve to starve and sleep in the gutter as they dined on silver and slept in warm beds every single night? But, it wouldn't be right to steal from those who had helped him. In the end the sinful thoughts overwrought his mind and he slipped out of the bed and hurried down the corridor.

He stopped outside of Ivan's room and, after a moment's hesitation, slipped inside. He opened the cupboard were the family running the church kept their silver taking a large, woven sack, which he had brought with him to carry his limited belongings, and began stuffing the expensive silver pieces into it. Once it was heavy he closed the cupboard and took off in a run for the churches exit, and escaped into the night, but two policemen caught him running and inspected his bag. After discovering what was within, where he had come from, and who he was, they chained him and beat him.

Once they decided he'd paid enough, they dragged him back to the church. Forcing him to his knees on the ground before the man he had stolen from. The policemen returned the silver to its original owner while saying, "Found him running from this direction last night, with your silver. He even had the gull to say you gave him this."

Francis bowed his head and waited for Ivan to accuse him of his crime. For the uniformed men to drag him in chains back to slavery.

"That is right." The bishop stated. "Though, you left in such a hurry that you forgot that I gave you these as well." Ivan pulled two silver candle stick off the table, setting it before the Frenchmen. "This man has spoken the truth. I commend you for your duty, God's blessing go with you." The chains were removed and Francis was hauled to his feet, the armed guards hurrying from the church. "I will give you this silver, for my family does not require it. But you must promise me that you will never steal again. Use it to become an honest man."

…

Francis had a confused and guilty look plastered on his face as he paced back and forth in an open pavilion. "He could have turned me in, but instead he gave me an opportunity to start a new life. I stole from him and he gave me something in return. I will start anew. Francis Bonnefoy is dead. He died nineteen years ago, when the chained him and left him for dead. Over stealing a single loaf of bread." He left the pavilion and crossed the grassy field and stood at an overhanging ledge. "A man I have barely known for two days gave me god blessing. He gave me a chance to escape from the life of Francis Bonnefoy."

Francis took his papers in hand and ripped them to shreds, letting them flutter away in the wind. "From this day onward, Francis Bonnefoy doesn't exist."

-End-

A/N: How was it? If I can keep a hold of my laptop long enough I might be able to write a second chapter today.