Summary: France has loved England from the moment they first met over a thousand years ago, but every time he is given a chance to tell the British nation how he feels time slips away from him and he loses that chance. What if his hesitation lost him something precious? USUK and One-sided!FrUK. Inspired by the song 'A Thousand Years' by Christina Perri.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. It is the creation of Hidekaz Himaruya and licensed by many other companies (none of which I own).
France stood paralyzed by the scene unfolding before him. He felt his chest burn with hatred and sorrow. He couldn't be too late! There had to still be time to tell England that he loved him! But he was too late. France couldn't bring himself to speak as America practically shouted his love at a stunned England. France dipped his head, finally able to turn and walk away. He had seen the look of longing in England's eyes for too long to even pretend that Brit would not return the American's affections. He could hear the island nation cry out in joy and stumble into the younger nation's embrace, all the while murmuring words of acceptance and love.
France felt a tear slide down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away. How could he have missed his chance? Today was supposed to be the day! The day he would finally profess his love to England after more than a thousand years of attempting to do so in vain. He had tried so many times before, been only moments away so many times. But he had let each chance slip through his fingers at the last second. Now his love was lost to him. But in reality, England had never really been his. All of those chances he had squandered. A thousand years of longing. Wasted!
France stepped off of the ship and onto the shores of the strange island, located across the channel from his own country, for the first time. He let his clear blue gaze wonder, taking in the thick forest sprawling out across the land just beyond the beach. Hopefully the barbarians that were said to inhabit this land wouldn't put up too much of a fight and this island would soon become a part of his blossoming power base. Though he had the body of a young child, no more than ten human years in appearance, France was a nation and as such he needed to collect underlings and gain resources not only for himself but for his people.
Walking calmly towards the nearest gap in the foliage, France caught sight of a flash of green and gold behind a nearby tree. Curious, the invading nation cautiously moved quietly toward the tree. "Come out, please." France spoke using the common language of all the world's nations. "I will not harm you. I promise." He held out his hands so they could be seen. Slowly, a small child in a green cloak and white tunic inched out from behind the tree and closer to the blue-eyed nation. France felt his heart beat faster. The child had bright emerald eyes, pale gold hair, and carried a small bow.
"Who are you?" The blond child in green was clearly a nation. His emerald eyes were mesmerizing and the cute scowl on his face was almost too much. France was ecstatic at the fact that this adorable child was talking to him so civilly.
"My name is France, mon petite. And who are you? Is this your land?" The child looked suspiciously at France for a moment before deciding to answer him.
"Yes. My name is Albion. But the faeries like to call me England." France couldn't tell this cute nation that he had come to invade and force him into a life of subservience. He had to this of something else to say, and quickly. After all, he knew he was in love with this tiny nation.
"Well, Albion or England or whoever you are, I am here...um... to protect you from now on!" England stared at the taller nation incredulously.
"Why would you want to protect me?" France had his chance! 'Just say the words,' the French nation urged himself. ' Just say the words and he can be yours from now on!'
"Well, because I-" France was cut off when one of his men called out to him in French, asking what was going on. France yelled back a reply quickly but by then he had lost his nerve and said something different than the 'I love you' he had planned. "Because I could use an ally like you and you should always protect your friends!" France put his hand on the smaller child's shoulder and led him toward the camp his men were erecting in a nearby clearing. 'Next time,' France vowed. 'The very next time I have the opportunity to tell him I love him, I will for sure!'
"This is it, Frog." England's sword was pressed to the Frenchman's neck, almost drawing blood. France was on the ground, his armor covered in blood and dirt, with England looming over him triumphantly.
"Why are you doing this, mon petite lapin? Is it so bad belonging to me?" France tried to smirk up at the gold armor clad island nation but ends up grimacing in pain. The wound in his side has come open and started bleeding once more. England snorts in derision and stands up, moving away from the fallen France.
"Of course! I belong to no one, you pasty faced floozy! I am my own nation and soon I will be the most powerful empire in the world. The sun will never set on my lands, rest assured." England paused. "As for why, did you honestly expect me to allow you to use me as a pawn forever? I am no fool! I could see how you were using me as a tool to further your own goals! I was a fool when we met to think that we could ever be friends!" England spat at the ground beside France.
"You do not mean that, mon ami! I would never use you as a pawn," France whispered. "You were more than just a tool to me."
"Then what was I?" France wants to take this chance and tell England that he was his special friend, his best friend, the one he loved, but he doesn't. France turns his head away. England looks down at the beaten nation for a moment before turning on his heels and walking away across the ravaged landscape of France's countryside. The wind carries his parting statement to the ears of the tired Frenchman, still laying in the mud.
"I will never belong to you again, France. Never."
"I don't think it is right for you to get so attached to that colony of yours L'Angleterre. It makes you seem foolish." France faced his rival and object of his affections who was seething in annoyance. "You will only get hurt in the end when I gain control over this land." France smirked. He was going to control North America by himself. That would show England just how powerful and amazing he was! Then, he could woo England properly and the rising empire would fall into his arms!
"It is you who is the fool, Frog," England ground out angrily. "North America is mine and I will not let you have my America or allow you to hold on to Canada. You couldn't raise a colony if you had an instruction pamphlet!" France frowned. He could raise Canada just fine! He was a wonderful father, England just didn't see it. He was about to give a scathing retort when England continued. "Besides, there is no way you will win this war. I will not allow it!" France saw the barely restrained rage in his rival's eyes.
"It is not acceptable for you to become emotionally attached to anyone." The 'but me' that went unsaid was completely missed by the sharp tempered Brit.
"And why should it matter to you if I care for America, or anyone else?" France doesn't reply. He just turns and walks away, determined to win this war and keep England from growing any emotional bonds with anyone but himself. He would sever any connections the Brit tried to make until he was able to gain the empire's love for his own.
"How dare you!" England railed at the Frenchman, furious. "How dare you assist him in leaving me! You know what he means to me!" France stood still as the smaller man began to beat his fists into his chest. "YOU KNOW! Why, God damn it? WHY?" The empire dissolved into hysterical tears.
France had no idea what to say. The truth? 'I don't want you to have anyone to love but me so I helped America leave because you love him more than me.' Maybe 'I love you and I wanted you all to myself?' France wanted so badly to say anything like that; to tell the sobbing empire how much he was loved. France was selfish. He had been jealous of America since the first time he had laid eyes on the young nation. He would never admit it but he could see that England loved that colony more than anyone else in the world. And he hated it. England wasn't allowed to love anyone but him! France just wanted to make England understand, but when he was about to try England had finally regained his composure.
"Never mind! I don't want to hear it anyway! FUCK YOU, FRANCE! If you pull shit like this again, I'll bloody kill you." The last was said in a deadly whisper before England turned and swept from the room, leaving a gaping and disappointed France behind him. 'I guess that chance was lost, but next time! Next time I will tell him for sure!' France was sure of this.
France was on his knees, begging. It was just after World War II and he was deeply in debt after the Suez Canal debacle. He need England to marry him so that his boss would stop saying he was going to kill France. He had tried tricking England into signing the marriage certificate and even used a bit of force, but that got him nowhere.
France was now in the process of dragging England from the office they had been meeting in to a corrupt minister in France's country so that they could be married. England was screaming for help and trying to jerk free but France held fast. Even if he hadn't been in danger of dying, France would have wanted to marry England. "Let me go, you wanker! We are NOT getting married!" England tried to kick the taller man but failed.
"And why is that, mon L'Angleterre? Would I be such a bad husband?" France sounded playful but he really was upset that England didn't want to marry him. Why not? France was a catch!
"Because we hate each other, you dolt! And marriage is about love!" France stopped a moment and let England go only to trap him against that wall in the ring of the Frenchman's arms. France leaned close and England flinched away. This was his chance! France knew what he had to say!
"Now L'Angleterre, who ever said that I hated you? In fact, I-" France was cut off as the door at the end of the hall was thrown open and golden hair and azure eyes burst through it. England used the distraction to escape from France's clutches and strategically place himself behind said distraction. America looked down at his former mentor in confusion, but smiled fondly just the same. France scowled as England replied with a rare smile.
"What's going on?" America nodded a greeting to France, his confusion at the situation he had walked in on evident.
"That stupid frog was trying to shanghai me into a marriage!" America jerked his burning gaze back to England at this proclamation, frowning. "Thank heavens you showed up when you did or I'd never have escaped! He just wants to get married because he's in debt and can't get out of it himself!" France flinched at the blunt words.
"That's not cool, France. You can't just go trying to force people into marrying you because of your financial problems! If you want to get married you have to ask and be accepted the right way! Right, Iggy!" England scowled at the nickname but nodded.
"Well then, L'Angleterre would you do me the honor of marrying me? I'll even let you be the husband!" England made a disgusted face and America's eyes hardened.
"No thank you! Even if you had a better reason for asking than your money problems, I'd still say no!"
"But L'Angleterre, I do have other reasons!"
"Really?" America cut in, shifting so he was blocking a bit more of England from France's gaze. "What are they?" France was mildly worried about the possessive gleam in the superpower's eyes but he ignored it for now. France was finally going to do it! He was going to tell England he loved him!
"Why my reason is that I..." France faltered. The mood seemed ruined and he wanted his confession to be special. It was especially awkward because of America's presence and the fact that he was blocking the object of his affections from meeting his eyes while hearing said confession. 'No,' France decided. 'Best to wait for a more romantic opportunity.' He continued his sentence with the only thing his brain could come up with on short notice. "I worry that L'Angleterre is too angry and crude for anyone else to want to marry him, so I thought that this would be a good way to save him from a life of loneliness!"
England ran from the room and America sent the Frenchman an icy glare before following after the distraught former empire. France watched them go and promised himself for the last time that he would profess his love to England after the next World Meeting no matter what. Somehow, it never did happen.
America and England were strolling through a park near the conference building about an hour after their rather public confession of love. America had his arm around England's waist and for once England was smiling freely as though he hadn't a care in the world. "Hey, Iggy!" England didn't even get upset at the nickname this time.
"Hm? What is it, love?" England's smile seemed to grow as he spoke. America felt his heart lighten and cocked his head to the side as he spoke.
"What was up with France earlier? He left and I didn't even notice. He never even congratulated us like everyone else did." The couple stopped to sit on a park bench, England laying his head against his taller love's shoulder as he replied.
"He wouldn't. He's rather odd like that. Always has been." England moved his head so he could look at America's face. "It's strange, I've known him for over a thousand years and it always seems like he is just about to say something but he never seems to get around to it. It seemed that way today but then he left so quickly."
"That is weird. Oh, well! He'll just have to congratulate us next time we see him!" England laughed along with America for a while. America stopped chuckling after a bit, his expression suddenly turning serious. America cupped England's chin so their eyes stayed locked as he spoke. "I know that I haven't known you for even a thousand years yet, England. But if you are willing to give me the chance, I'll love you for the next thousand and more." England blushed and managed a shy nod before America pulled him into a deep kiss. Neither noticed the other blond nation that was watching them from the path nearby. France had wasted one thousand years and now the next thousand were already spoken for.
*The End*
A/N: I'm not dead! I just keep getting distracted from my other projects by new ideas... but I swear I will finish the non-abandoned things I have promised to finish! This story was a random idea I got while listening to the song 'A Thousand Years' by Christina Perri. I decided that I was going to write a story where France isn't a rapist, killed, a super jackass, only brotherly toward England, beaten up, or a combination of those things. Hope I did a good job. Please read my other stories if you liked this one and look for upcoming projects! Read and Review!