The art of flirting

1842

Never Again would Alice allow herself to be stupid enough to flirt with Francis. Victoria, the normally smart and sensible young ruler, had been unusually foolish on this matter.

"But Chuckaboo, I'm so happy with my Francis!" She had exclaimed before the ball with the French delegates excitedly dragging her nation into her room. "I want you to be happy with your Francis as well, and I'm sure he likes you! Besides, this is a new way of flirting in court and your Francis is so fashionable since he comes from Paris, I'm sure he will be able to take charge and take over after you have stated your intentions."

"He isn't my Francis, and he has never been able to take charge of anything, even when he was an empire." Alice whined as she allowed her queen to drag her to the wardrobe, pulling out a pink gown with an empire waist and a painfully low cut bodice. "No. I allowed you to dress me up and use me as a doll when you were a child, Victoria, but it is PINK and if I sneeze I will expose myself." She protested attempting to wiggle free.

"That is the point! He is French you need to catch his attention somehow; and you should try to be feminine more often! From the stories you told me when I was little, more often than not you were dressed up for war or in men's clothes." The other woman giggled and started forcing Alice into the dress.

After a few more quite protests, the nation allowed herself to be dressed in the monstrosity and have her hair done. It wouldn't do for Victoria to learn that several times in the past, Francis had seen her perfectly prettied up. The first time that had happened was during the rule of Henry VIII; when the new ruler had declared that a beautiful woman should be dressed accordingly and often flirted with her behind his wife's back. Simply put, within the first year of his reign, during a visit to France, she had been practically kidnapped by the Frenchman. She was not allowed to return until the dreadful king had passed; but that is a story for another time.

"There Chuckaboo! Don't you look so pretty; your Francis won't be able to resist you!" Vitoria chirped as she finished putting up the older woman's hair. "Now here is a fan; depending on what you want to express, you do different things with it. For example…"

"Hold on, I think I will need to write this down," Alice interrupted looking for an inkwell.

Alice leaned against the wall of the party, unsure why she was here. She hated balls, they were truly detestable things. Suddenly, though, she caught sight of Francis; after a quick check on the inside of her fan where her notes were written she violently flipped open her fan and held it awkwardly in her left hand. Wincing at the noise she flinched slightly, she had seen several young women do that earlier so gracefully, yet when she tried it was like the object had become a weapon.

However, it did get the desired reaction, as Francis walked over with his normal casual stride, disgustingly elegant in a way Alice would never manage. "Mon chaton, are you not a lovely flower today; however did they get you in the dress? I am surprised that you are not in trousers today." He greeted her as he took her hand and kissed it politely.

After a quick glance at the notes, she started studying the design on the fan. "It is nice to see you as well, frog face? How is your king?" Alice asked and after a quick glance at the fan she started fanning herself almost frantically, in a painfully awkward way that only she would be able to manage.

"He is well. Mon cher is there a bee? Or perhaps you are not feeling well?" He asked, a telltale smirk showing he was about to start teasing.

"I am perfectly fine, Francis. Why wouldn't I be?" Alice answered, giving up fanning herself and instead pressed the now half-open fan to her lips.

"Cher? Are you sure you are well? Did you eat some of this miserable English food and it upset your delicate stomach?" Francis asked, as he watch Alice glance at her Fan before closing it all the way and pressing the handle now to her lips.

"I hate you so much, you Frog!" Was the sudden shout as the irate woman threw her fan, hitting him in the face before storming off.

"You were supposed to be the fashionable one!" Was the sharp scolding from Queen Victoria, who had appeared behind him, before smacking his arm and chasing down her nation.

"What?" Francis looked around helplessly before picking up the fan, ready to chase down his female friend who was apparently being overly emotional.

"I wouldn't go after her," The kind voice that belonged to Prince Albert sounded and a kind hand rested on his arm stopping his movement. "English woman are very strange and I am not sure anyone will ever understand them.

Francis could only nod sadly watching where Alice had run off to. It wasn't until well after the ball ended and he was back in France that he remember the fan. Looking at the flimsy thing he noticed small and neat rows of handwriting on it and couldn't stop the smirk that took over his face.

~Several months later~

Alice walked into the ball room feeling much better as she was properly dressed in breeches and a shirt. She was the United Kingdom, few people would openly scold her! Off to the side she noticed Francis holding… a fan? More precisely her fan. When he noticed her as she approached him, he started quickly fanning himself like one of the ladies from court.

"What? Is there a bee?" Alice snapped shooting him a glare and snatching her fan back before storming off.

Francis shrugged at the confused looks of the English Lords. He would win her over some day.

AN: So this also falls into the Almost a date and Mein Bruder universe, but way back in time so it may not be really brought up again. I had several ideas for some France and Fem England stories though so you can be expecting them. Tell me what you think!

Fan translations, at least from what I found on Google :)

Carrying in left hand, open = come and talk to me.

Looking closely at the painting = I like you

Quickly fanning herself = I love you so much

Half-opened fan pressed to the lips: "You may kiss me."

Putting the fan handle to the lips: "Kiss me."

Other translations

Mon chaton = my kitten

mon cher, = my dear

Chuckaboo was apparently a Victorian slang nickname for a close friend.