Francine finally managed to sneak out of the castle, her mother never allowed her to go out at all; should she find out, she'd surely send her to the dungeon for the rest of the day. Thank goodness Matthew had promised to cover for her.
She pulled on her hooded cape and strolled right through the market place. She was smart enough to use what she thought looked like a peasant's dress; though she didn't really know how they looked like. Nobody seemed to notice anyway, she probably looked like some old woman.
The only person who knew her well enough to recognize her in like this would be Matthew… or Arthur. He was in France for the week, attending some kind of conference. But the thought of Britain was enough to send heat up to her cheeks.
Pushing away the thoughts, she moved up to a stall that sold green apples; she absolutely loved them. She searched for the most perfect one and paid the vendor more than the apple was probably worth, turning away with a "Merci!" before he could say a word.
She bit down on the apple for a moment and took out her pocket watch, it was 10 in the morning; there was still time before her mother would start searching for her.
"So I take it that you enjoyed that old thing."
Francine looked up sharply, the apple falling to the ground. She'd know that voice anywhere.
"Well, it would be a waste to throw it away, Arthur." To be honest, she didn't actually know why she kept the watch. But it made her happy, knowing she kept a little piece of the Englishman with her.
He laughed. "Well, what are you doing this far from the castle, Franny?"
She gritted her teeth, "Don't call me that!"
"Would you rather I call you the frog princess after your big brother?"
She narrowed her eyes angrily. "Shut up. I just wanted to get out of there for once."
He sighed, "So, you escaped?"
"Bien sûr! Mother would never let me out with at least a dozen escorts. Too over protective, if you ask me. "
He frowned at her. "Then I will have to take you back. These streets are too dangerous for you."
"Would you relax for once in your life? Mother will be fine as soon as she finds out that you're with me." She took a step closer and pushed up his eyebrows, forcing his exasperated look away.
He blushed slightly at her touch and he looked away. "Who said anything about me coming with you?" He grumbled.
"Well, I could say that you brought me all the way out here against my will and she might have you arrested, mon cherie." She gave him a sly smile.
Arthur growled, "Fine. But this is the only time I'm doing this."
"That's all I'm asking."
"Where do you want to go then?"
"Oh, I don't know. Take me where you please."
"Then I'm going to cook for you." He knew how terrible his cooking was; it even scared her big brother Francis away. Maybe it would make her leave him alone for good.
"D'accord. I'm sure you would cook pretty well, for a Briton."
"What?" He was surprised, and then with a twinge of annoyance he remembered that she had never tasted anything of his.
"I said, sure."
He grinned evilly; it would be a chance to get her away from him, maybe she would run all the way to the castle. "Well, let's go then."
She nodded then looked down at the expensive heels she was now feeling stupid for wearing; they were a step close to breaking in half. "Uh….."
He turned back to her with crossed arms, "What now?"
"Carry me." She held out her arms like a little girl.
"You've got to be joking."
"Angleterre!"
"Just like your brother, Frog Princess." He walked up to her and gently lifted her up.
Francine grinned, "I must make him proud." She slipped her arms around his neck.
"Bloody hell you do."
A blush spread across his cheeks as a sudden scent of vanilla came into the air. He wondered if she knew it was his favorite.
"You're turning red, Arthur." She giggled.
"No I'm not! Your damn perfume is making my allergies act up."
She raised her eyebrows smugly, "I'm not wearing any, but good try though."
His cheeks turned even darker. "Shut up."
She smiled to herself but didn't say anything.
It was only a few minutes more until they reached a little townhouse; she turned her head up and saw the castle only a few streets away.
Bastard must've known I'd escape! He might be trying to scare me away, she thought with narrowed eyes.
Arthur put her down and unlocked his door. After setting his keys on the table, he took off his coat and hung it on a nearby hook. He was already halfway to the kitchen when he turned around and said, "Well? Are you coming in or not?"
She refocused her eyes on the brit; she walked inside and shut the door. "So what shall you cook for me today?"
He tilted his head and appeared to be deep in thought, "A scone? No. Tea? Wait, I don't think you cook that. Oh, I've got it. A crepe! France had taught me how to make one." He looked at her up and down, as if sizing up the idea; then he turned and walked right into the kitchen.
Francine tilted her head, carefully removing her cloak and hanging it beside Arthur's coat.
She tied up her wavy hair and went into the kitchen as well, where she could see that the crepe was already burning quite horribly. "Mon dieu. I thought you said you could cook."
"I can! Shut up and let me finish." He was frowning in concentration as he tried to flip it over.
"Arthur, you do not flip crepes like a pancake." She sighed and moved to the stove, "here let me."
"What are you doing? You'll ruin it, go away."
She gave him a look and placed her hand over his, carefully shaking the pan. "You should be already putting the fruits."
"I was getting to it!" He protested, but he didn't move his hand away.
"Oh, sure you were," she picked up a few blueberries and sprinkled them onto the surface of the crepe. "They are your favorite, are they not?"
He looked at her in surprise, how did she know that?
"Don't look so shocked, Arthur, you told me the first day I met you." She smirked.
He smiled and picked up a few green apple slices, tossing them onto the crepe as well. "And I remember you told me that you loved green apples. Judging from the apple that was in your mouth a few moments ago, it most probably still is."
She laughed, "Oh, so you remember."
"Of course! You would always throw one at me when you were mad."
"You deserved it… most of the time." She smirked and back down at the crepe and removed her hand. "I take it you know how to fold it?"
Without her hand to guide him, he felt unsteady and confused. "O-of course I do."
"Then I will be by the table."
A few minutes later, he placed a plate in front of her. It was slightly burned, but it looked pretty good.
She took a bite out of it and then she grinned, "I must say, this is probably the only edible dish you've ever made."
"Francis told you about my cooking, didn't he?"
"Oui." A corner of her mouth quirked up.
"Yet you still insisted on coming over?" He raised an eyebrow.
"As long as it is you, I wouldn't mind." She rested her chin on her interlocked fingers.
He blushed, "Don't be so sappy, Franny." She stuck her tongue out at him.
Within a few minutes, she had finished the crepe; her eyebrows were raised, as if she had not been expecting the result. "Pretty good too."
"Really?" He widened his eyes. "Why didn't you save some for me?"
"Didn't you taste it before you gave it to me?" She looked at him like he was stupid.
"I thought we would share!" He was whining like a little kid.
"Are you that desperate for a taste?" She pursed her lips at him teasingly.
"Well, it is the only thing I've made that can actually be eaten…" He gave her a crooked smile.
She laughed and pulled his head down to meet her lips. It was a sweet kiss, tasting of blueberries and green apples; but Arthur could taste the vanilla on her lips, and he was quite enjoying it.
Francine pulled back with a little smirk; her little England's face was a dark shade of red and he was looking at her in surprise.
"You're right. It is pretty good." He licked his lips, glancing down at her red lips. "But I'm still hungry." He smiled and bent down, pressing his lips to hers. She let her hands rest on his face, she pushed him up and backed him up against the wall.
When they broke apart, she glanced up at the clock, "It is already 6, and you must want me to get home." Her hair was falling in her eyes and it was messing up, Arthur thought she never looked so beautiful.
"I'll get you back tomorrow." He grinned and pulled her up the stairs to his bedroom, kissing her again.
She smiled against his lips, letting out a, "Bon."