/ A/N: Another FrUK thing! I have quite a few saved up that I plan to post, so even if I don't write for them any more I can still churn out drabbles. Hope you enjoy! /
Young Arthur was alone.
Not that he was very much surprised by that fact.
He was sat in solitude amongst the thick grass of the forest, looking around himself and taking in his surroundings; the magnificently tall trees climbing high above Arthur's head were most interesting to him. He began to examine them more intensely: how the small twigs were woven together like a spider's web; how the roots of each tree seemed to wriggle away into nothing; how the bark was sharply indented to display something... wait. Arthur pulled himself up and waddled over slightly to investigate further. What was carved into that tree's body?
Upon closer examination, the image upon the tree was lettering. Arthur spelt it out in his head: "F-R-A-N-C-I-S..." he mumbled to himself, struggling on some of the letters. What did that word say? Of course, it was "Francis"! Francis must have carved it!
Speaking of Francis, where in God's name was he?
Normally he would have been here by now... Maybe he had the wrong time? Sun dial isn't exactly the easiest thing to understand, especially if you are Arthur's height and can't even see up to it.
The Brit stuck out his chubby little hands towards the disfigurement in the otherwise flawless trunk. He could just about reach enough to run his hands over the letters. The bark felt cold and somewhat malleable under his minute fingers.
It was at that moment that Arthur decided that he absolutely had to make a carving of his own, one that was better than stupid girly Francis'.
Thankfully he could spell his own name without any issues, so the tiny Brit set to work on finding a sharp enough object to create the carving - the arrowhead from his bow and arrow set would be sufficient - and then getting round to beginning his work. Arthur found that the space just under Francis' name was just as pliable for shaping, and was luckily within his height range. With that, he set to work. The first letter was arguable the hardest. He hadn't anticipated how brittle the bark was, and found his arrowhead stuck in the tree almost at once. After removing it, it took only two or three minutes to finish his letter "A". Although he wouldn't admit it, carving was hard work. It made Arthur's arms ache, but he knew it would make him bigger and stronger, hopefully even more so than stupid Francis. With this on his mind, the Brit set back to work.
He had just completed the "R" with relative ease when he heard an unmistakable voice from behind him. "Angleterre?" Francis called out curiously. He quickly approached the younger nation and crouched down to see from his height. "Ah, you spotted my art and wanted to copy good old Francis, did you?" the Frenchman boasted with head held high.
Arthur kicked him in the shin.
"I don't need to copy you, dummy." the Brit corrected him, already halfway through his "T". He was, however, beginning to struggle again. Carving was certainly trickier than first appeared.
Francis sighed. "Here, let me help, non?" he suggested, taking the arrowhead and beginning the letter "H" with confidence. It was completed within thirty seconds, and all the while Arthur watched with wide eyes. It was fascinating to watch the bark fall away from the tree in place of another letter of his name.
Finishing Arthur's name took Francis no more than three minutes, and he grinned proudly as he did.
"Voilà!" he cried, handing Arthur his arrowhead back. The finishing result was certainly... unique. Half of the lettering was childishly slanted and shoddily shaven whilst the other half was perfected and well practised. "How beautiful!" Francis smiled kindly as he knelt down to Arthur again. "I bet when you grow up, this will still be here, and you can come back here with your loved one and ask yourself, 'Who was Francis?'"
Arthur admired his work before realising he hadn't thanked Francis properly. He quickly turned to the older nation and spluttered out a "Thank you!" before kissing him speedily on the cheek and sprinting off. Francis just watched him go, smiling after him. How cute was that?
Later in the evening with his cloak hood over his head, Arthur returned to the same location in which he had completed his carving (with only a teeny tiny bit of help from Francis). He ran his fingers over the lettering, spelling the names in his head, when he realised there was a lot of space between Francis' name and his own. It was pliable enough to carve, and there was no point in wasting good resources, so Arthur took out his arrowhead again and commenced with another drawing. Without paying much attention, he had inadvertently drawn a heart between the two names. It didn't /mean/ anything, anyway, so who cares? He just wasn't paying attention, that's all! Why on earth would anyone care whether he put a heart between his and Francis' names? He sure didn't care.
Francis did, however. His plan of staying hidden was uncovered when Francis discovered Arthur, back to his carving. The Frenchman had been about to make his presence known, but had decided to hang back once he noticed that Arthur was drawing. Once he could tell what it was, he smiled softly. Bless Arthur.
The English were never very good at conveying emotions.