A/N: I really am going to get back to working on "Little Army", sometime hopefully in the future...!

So, I don't really know why, especially since I was in a mood to write some smut, I came out with this story. I'll put the blame entirely on Of Monsters and Men and my FrUK feels. I don't think the song's place in this time is particularly canon, considering that this song (the tune and the words together) was finally put together and recorded in 1998, I believe. However, there were songs similar to this floating around in the British Isles and in the British Commonwealth throughout the last several centuries, so I imagine something like it could have been heard in the 1930s-1940s. Regardless, enjoy!

Songs of Reference:

"The Parting Glass" by: The Wailin' Jennys, "King and Lionheart" by: Of Monsters and Men, "I See Fire" by: Ed Sheeran

It was a heartbreak of a reunion, and they both knew it truly was happening as soon as they came face to face, and not just some depressing nightmare of theirs. In their own ways, they had foreseen this gathering coming.

Their greedy indulgence and their false sense of new age heroism had pushed these two men, along with a good portion of the world, to their knees to repent for their sins by killing one another a couple decades ago. The Great War may be behind them, but another was coming. Another war far more worse than either of them could either imagine, let alone the other nations around them. When they could see the signs beginning to pile up around them, at their own feet and at the boots of others, they mutually decided that they needed to see each other again. Talk about the concerns of what they were going to face, or perhaps reminisce about the past. There was always that possibility that they wouldn't come back, especially when wars were waged.

It was funny, and they would frequently joke about it, how when there was always the threat of annihilation in a war, and yet they had waged most of their wars against one another. That's why they cherished these meetings so much. It was their last times to say that they were sorry before throwing themselves into the fray.

This time around, though, France and England would not be facing off against one another. They were on the same side, and from the way it was appearing, they may be fighting side by side for most of this war. Or, so they hoped.

These meetings all started the same. One of the countries would invite the other to their place, on the terms of an "eve gathering". They used to want to call it a "reunion meeting", but they soon learned to cherish the word 'reunion'. They didn't want to tarnish the word with these stressful and heartaches of nights. This time, it was Francis's turn to play the host.

When Arthur would arrive, the fireplace would be alight with fresh lumber logs and a nice flame eating away at the wood. They would sit before the fire, the high back chairs turned partially towards the hearth and partially towards the other. The small table between them would have two wine glasses, and two wine bottles, one red and one white, which were both aged well and reserved only for these nights. While the island nation typically preferred the white wine, and the mainland nation preferred the red, they liked to twin their drinks, especially on one of the more stressful nights.

Frankly, Arthur liked to believe that this particular night would be so hard that Francis would likely bring up the possibility of sex to calm them down, and England would agree entirely and willingly. It hadn't been so long since they had sex last, and it was a bit of a blunt request, but the Germanic nation wasn't so sure he could say goodbye without it, at least not this time.

He knocked his knuckles against the doorframe, already feeling the gloomy ache in his gut from facing this. It's been a long time since they were gathering together on the eve of something that would be this horrific. Three heartbeats later, as if the man had been standing by it in anticipation, the door cracked open and a bittersweet smile from the French nation greeted him to come inside. "It's good to see you, my friend," Francis said, almost in a casual manner, before adding, "I only wish the times were better."

Arthur nodded, "As do I, old chap," he stepped past the other man and turned his head to look back, "I sincerely hope that this night will not be the last." Francis looked confused, and realizing what he had said, he corrected himself, "I mean to say that we won't perish in this conflict. That we'll still be able to get together as friends. That perhaps we can actually plan gatherings without the fear of what comes tomorrow in our minds."

"Agreed, do sit down. The wine is already set out on the table." The Englishman took a moment to take in the room before making himself comfortable. This was one of Francis's homes, one of the more finer ones at that. Francis typically chose to stay in his apartment residence in Paris, but this place was the somewhat rural chateau that he owned. Pieces of history were scattered throughout the house, on shelfs, in cabinets, and anywhere they could fittingly display. Arthur wasn't sure if he liked it more than he hated it. It was a beautiful house, sure, with lower ceilings that made one feel cozier and warmer - especially with the fire in the hearth - but, these artifacts from France's past occasionally correlated with his own past, particularly with old wars and other bitter memories between them. He wondered if Francis felt the same anytime he visited his country home during these gatherings.

Taking a seat in his chair, Arthur watched Francis attentively as he crossed over from across the room and took his seat across from him. As the host, Francis drew up the first wine glass and looked over to Arthur, "White or red?"

He hadn't had the chance to eye the dates and make his decision, but knowing that the other country would probably pour himself whatever he decided, he charitably played towards what Francis would have wanted, "Red." And as he predicted, he saw a slight smirk of satisfaction when the word left his lips. However, whenever Arthur had the wine glass in his fingers and had a taste of the aged alcohol, he was the first to bring up serious thoughts, "Do you think other countries do this sort of thing?"

"You mean meeting up before a war to talk? Or...you mean, more like what we do?"

"What we do," Arthur met Francis's longing look, "I figure it's almost a given that the Axis Powers will meet up to discuss their plans before they launch and assault. We've met up to talk with Russia, discussed our concerns with Netherlands and Belgium, and America and Canada have been informed of our stance. But, I've always wondered if any of the others have ever talk the way we talk...perhaps reminisce over aged alcohol and release our final thoughts before the storm rolls in."

"I'm sure some of them must," Francis muses, "we can't be the only creative ones in the world, you know." The man curls a lock of hair around his finger and smiles kindly, "I wouldn't expect you to start out with something so...distant. You're usually so excited to talk about the past, all your victories and triumphs, are you feeling all right?" He takes a small sip of wine, almost tempted to make a face at Arthur. After the other man didn't speak again, instead stare into his glass, he prompted another, "Arthur?"

"It's just..." he grimaced, "I don't think I've ever felt so uncertain about a war before. I can't shake this feeling that our fears may become reality." he looked up at Francis, the hand not wrapped around a wine glass clutching the arm of the high back chair tightly, "That one of us won't make it through the end of this war." He shakes his head in frustration, "Am I just paranoid, Francis? I'm really trying to be hopeful...but there's just..."

"No, I don't think so," the Frenchman shrugged, "In this day in age, it doesn't hurt to be paranoid. With the new and awful technology that the people in our countries construct for war, ones that are being sold to us to fight in this war, there's always the threat of a true death. I can't tell the future, but from the looks of things over at Germany and Prussia's, that this war will be very ugly." Arthur's breath almost caught in his throat when he saw the sad smile stretch itself across Francis's face, and he lost eye contact with those beautiful pale blue eyes, "If one of us are to walk away from this war alive, I'll definitely place my bets on you." At the sight of protest about to shoot itself from Arthur's mouth, he held up his hand and explained, "Don't you remember how it was during the Great War? Germany and Prussia both wanted to reach Paris, but it never happened. The only reason it didn't happen was because of those trenches, while a horrific way to fight, it secured the fate of Paris as soon as the first trenches were dug. The unavoidable stalemate kept my land safe. Now...we have no trenches to fight in, and I fear that Paris may not be so far for those two to walk." He smiled, "But they can't walk on water, Arthur, and I'm certain that no matter what they could try, that your little island would be so much safer than here."

"No...don't count your lot in with the deceased before..."

"I was only expressing a possibility here. If one of us were to be killed in this war, I just think that it would be me, especially with my placement in the mainland...and to a larger extent - my placement as a dominant power of the Allies. You were the one who said you were really worried," Francis could see the clear hurt in Arthur's face and his eyelids lowered, "I guess I've just turned this sad little meeting into a depression..."

"I will stand by your side, Francis," Arthur declared, "If Paris does fall, if your people are left with not a hope to spare, and if you are subjugated under those bastards, then I'll rescue you. Whatever I can do with the power I have, I will free you." It was sad how words like that could only now be said before the war. There weren't really very many occasions where Arthur had offered to liberate France, let alone attempt to help France. Great nations had been lost in time, and Arthur would rather die than let Francis's nation become a fragment of the past.

"Then I won't worry," the Frenchman smiled, his eyes becoming misty. He was trying not to cry, and all it did was make Arthur want to cry as well. "If I can be honest, then you saying that...that gives me more hope than any one man could ever hope for. Considering your history, and what I know the English are capable of, I feel pretty safe knowing that you'd come for me." He gave a small chuckle of relief, "If they turn on your country, Arthur, then I shall do what I can to rescue you."

"Oh, well, considering your history...I'm not exactly sure if I trust that," Arthur snorted. The two collapsed into a fit of laughter, both agreeing that it was probably truer than hurtful. Arthur had been cautious about addressing France's military history in the past, but Francis assured him that it was truly something funny, comparing his own record to the likes of Austria's and even Italy's.

"I will say this though..." Francis wiped his eyes and began to breathe, "My early record wasn't so bad. And, if having you whenever you were very little and all those fights throughout the Middle Ages was what helped you bulk up, then I'll say that my poor military history has it's benefits as well as it's drawbacks." He poured himself a serving of white wine and poured some for Arthur in return, "The drawbacks being how many times we've fought over the years. I'll address that my military had something to do with that."

"Oh, only something? You say that like we didn't subject each other to over a hundred years for one war. My military was quite active in that mess," he suddenly got quiet, "...in many ways." He looked away from Francis, who surprisingly didn't look as disturbed as he expected him to be. Arthur never liked mentioning that war, for one particular reason, and he knew that even as they years went on and the world changed around them...Francis would always be sensitive about the war, and what he had lost during it. No, not so much as lost, as much as it was what Arthur stole from him. "Francis...though I know these apologies alone would and will never be enough, I'm still and forever will be sorry for the pain I caused you, and for what I robbed from you."

"Merci, Arthur, though I have come to remember that what we had was something that would not be blessed, and I would have ended heartbroken in the end no matter what had happened to her. I prefer to blame God for making me immortal or perhaps for making her mortal, for he had cursed our fate to begin with." Francis shrugged, "It's in the past, my friend, and things are meant to be." Arthur looked up at him, and he continued, "If you and I hadn't wronged each other so in the past, we could never appreciate what we have now. I don't think we could have ever grown to love as passionately as we do. And for all the heartache and all the suffering that I have caused you as you have caused me, it makes what we have all the better. For, if someone such as you could overcome such strong feelings of hatred and sorrow, and come to love me as much as you do, then I am a King among men, Arthur, and you and you alone have made me that."

With a profound blush, Arthur grumbled, "You know how much you irk me when you do that? You've said so much in so little that mean the world to me, and I can't repeat that, let alone live up to it through my words. But, I guess I could say that as many times as I've appeared to regret your presence in my life, I will never regret our first meeting with you and your Normans. Your influence during my life has shaped me into the person I am today, and I fear what man I could have become if we had never met. We have pulled those around us into our fits of madness and yet I will not regret how I've lived my life with you whenever all this has led to something as beautiful and wonderful as this. In these dark times, you've become a guiding light of mine all over again, and your love is what keeps me strong."

"Wow...maybe I'll have to speak French the next time, I'm quite impressed and very flattered," Francis grinned, his cheeks sporting a sprightly pink shade. It could be the easiest or the hardest thing to make Francis blush, but somehow Arthur managed to do it. "If we had loved like this in the past, your love would have pushed my heart to burst from it's chest and I'd be the happiest man in death. I almost regret the amount of love we didn't have."

"We did have times together, though, lest we forget," Arthur leered, "I believe you taught me the very meaning of chivalry and romance whenever we first met, and though I may have thought it annoying at first, I will admit that you were quite the teacher."

Francis nodded, "That I was. But from the early days I remember whenever I lost control of you, and then you were strong enough to seize a portion of me. As I taught you well, you returned the favor and taught me something. Those days of the Crusades, though cruel and unforgiving, were some of the best days I had with you after we both believed that the world was going to end. You made those long days and nights in the barren wastelands bearable, even pleasurable. And I'm sure it's a given on our time together through Richard and Philip." Both found themselves blushing a little more at the names of the past kings, and the certain memories they had during their reign.

"And we raised Alfred and Matthew together," The Englishman said with a nostalgic tone, "for the time we were together, it was nice. I know Matthew especially appreciates it as much as we did for that short time. Francis, if only we could go back to those days and right the wrongs that were set."

"I'm sure it was meant to be, Arthur. If we hadn't done what we did, I'm certain that Alfred and Matthew would be very different people today than they are. Alfred has become so strong and we may need him for the war that comes this way, and I'm sure Matthew will want to get involved. I'm sure we would be very different as well," Francis grinned, "I don't want to ever feel that things could have been better if we had altered the past...because if people are shaped by time, then whose to say that I would still love you in this way? I love the you as you are. The time I would only wish to return to is the early 1900s, when the people of our nation were as in love with each other as we were."

"The establishing of the Entente Cordiale..." Arthur chuckled, "It was a nice time, wasn't it? If we could go without the Great War again, I would relive these years again and again with you. Surely history may not have changed so much."

"I'll agree with you on that, my friend," The Frenchman admitted, "But what will happen to us? Shall we continue with our love or will it one day be lost by a cruel twisting of time?"

"Like you said earlier, the world has changed so much. I'd like to hope that after this war, there will be no more childish fighting in Europe to endanger us like so. We've already stretched ourselves so thin already that there is no where else to claim and lay siege to. I'd like to think, that if we win this war, that there will no more conquering here. We played around as children and teenagers, but now we're grown up. We've come to understand that talking and compromising will be what saves us. If we fight as adults, we'll end up in the same shoes as our predecessors, Rome, Germania and the others. I don't want to see us kill each other anymore," he said, a mixed feeling of worry and anxiety twisting in pretzels in his gut. He wanted so badly to believe the hope that he preached in his statement, like Churchill had always said, but with as long as Arthur had lived and knowing that they were going to participate in possibly a worse war than the one they had just left behind. He feared for annihilation, not just of England or France, but of anyone who would participate in this grim war.

"My dearest Arthur, things may seem dark and hopeless now, but I think we can pull through this and survive. Maybe it won't be like the last war."

"But maybe it'll be worse..."

"We don't know that..."

"But we don't know that it will be better! Francis, someone could die! I could die! You could die!" Arthur shouted, standing before him. Bitter tears had gathered in his green eyes, and his thick eyebrows were furrowed together. Francis looked frightened, almost reaching out towards Arthur. The man snapped, a couple of tears falling down his cheeks, "Don't lie and tell me that you aren't worried, that you aren't afraid! I'm so fucking afraid of what could happen that I can't stand it! If you're taken from me Francis, I swear to God..."

Francis stood up and wrapped his arms around the younger country, "Hey...I'll be fine, Arthur. I can be torn down and beaten to submission, I can be tied up and tormented for ages, and I can be shot and stabbed and scarred and shocked into trauma. But, as long as I have you to go back to, I know that everything will be okay..." he wiped away the tear tracks on Arthur's cheeks and leaned in to press his forehead against his, "Don't cry for me until I am in danger...don't worry for what may happen and worry about what has happened." He looked into foggy green irises and whispered endearments, "You will always be with me. If we are separated, and the enemy stands between our reunion, then we shall wait with our memories for the day that we may see each other again."

"You just...mean the world to me," Arthur murmured, "It took me a lifetime to realize that and to finally take you...and now I'm scared that I'll just lose you and it will all be for nothing." He wrapped his hands around Francis's wrists, his arms still subtly shaking in fear.

"You won't lose me," Francis assured, "We may joke about my military, but France has survived through the darkest of days. Neither Germany nor Prussia can destroy me, and even if they tried, I know that the Lion of Europe has his eyes on me. I can't lose. If you were unable to help me, then I would help myself and show them that I can be stronger than they have ever known. The very idea that you would liberate me fills me with so much strength. I wouldn't let myself look like a fool, surely not in front of you." He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Arthur's pale lips, "All right?"

"All right," he breathed back, kissing him back and pressing himself against him, "Francis...can we...?"

"Oui, amour," he gave him another passionate kiss, and whispered, "Let's go to the bedroom then..."

Arthur and Francis lied together in bed, clinging and sweaty and in love. All of the lovemaking had taken a lot of them, but they supposed that they weren't as young as they used to be. But perhaps they stayed so close because this was their last night. They didn't dare try to move away, for that small and nagging fear of them saying goodbye. It was a frightful thing to say goodbye on such nights.

"Love," Arthur groaned, "do I truly have to leave? Are you certain that I can't stay?"

"I would be the happiest man on Earth, and you know that as well as I do. But, I imagine that you're needed at home, where your people and you can prepare for the storm that is coming to Europe," Francis smiled sadly, half attempting to sit up in the bed, but far preferred to just lay with Arthur for the rest of the night and for the rest of eternity.

"I'll miss you so much though," the Englishman grinned, pressing his lips against Francis's forehead, wrapping his arms around his neck one last time.

Francis laughed, "You'll see me soon! It's not like I'll be on the Eastern front, I'll be right next to you."

"Not in particularly good circumstances, mind you."

"That's true, amour. But I will be there with you, and no matter what happens - we'll face it together," he promised.

Arthur sighed, sitting up and beginning to crawl towards the edge of Francis's nicely sized and managed bed, "I suppose if I continue to talk, I'll only delay the imminent. Let me get my clothes back on and I'll get out of your hair," looking back he smirked, "though, I'm sure you don't mind me there."

"Of course I don't," Francis chuckled, "But...before you do go..." he latched onto Arthur's thin arm and pulled him back towards him. He pulled him close, his naked skin soft and smooth beneath his fingers. "This is a bit of a strange request, I suppose, but, um...will you...?"

"Will I what?"

Francis blushed, "This is so weird...just...you know that folk song that people sing at pubs?"

"Are you asking me to sing 'The Parting Glass' to you?" Arthur narrowed his eyes in confusion. With a hesitant and nervous nod from Francis, he frowned, "Um, no. I will not sing to you. I don't sing that much, and besides, you have the better voice for that. You sing it if you want to." He was making this departure weird.

"Hey, it's fitting! It's a nice way to say goodbye to someone you love!" Francis snapped, causing Arthur to blush, "Sing it with me then because I don't remember all the words."

It actually didn't sound that bad whenever he described it like that, it was just really domestic. The song was really meant for a Gaelic tongue anyway, but Arthur did suppose that perhaps this was Francis's way with dealing with the farewell. They would see each other again, for sure, but tonight...tonight he supposed he could do this. For Francis. It was just the two of them after all. He sighed and nodded, "Okay..." It took Francis a few words in and he began singing in tune.

"Oh, of all the money that e'er I spent, I spent it in good company,

And all the harm that e'er I've done, alas it was to none but me.

And all I've done for want of wit, to memory now I can't recall,

So fill to me the parting glass, goodnight and joy be with you all."

Francis's dialect didn't butcher the song any, it just sounded a little strange, when Arthur had only heard it spoken with a Scottish or Irish accent. It was rather pleasant.

"Oh, of all the comrades that e'er I've had, are sorry for my going away,

And all the sweethearts that e'er I've loved, they would wish me one more day to stay.

But since it falls unto my lot, that I should rise and you should not,

I'll gently rise and I'll softly call, goodnight and joy be with you all.

Goodnight and joy be with you all."

By the end of it, they both teared up some. The song, sweet and sad at the same time, represented this fateful meeting and their fateful farewell into a darker day. However, they kept in mind that this wasn't forever, and that they would see each other again soon. They swallowed their fears and said goodbye, and Arthur departed from the chateau, though no spoken goodbye was ever as good as the song.

After six long years of fighting in the madness, pain, and horrors of this bloody war, it was finally over.

Arthur had lost Francis early on in the war, when those damn German brothers were pursuing them through France. Ludwig had almost caught up to him before Francis shoved him ahead of him, letting himself be captured and giving Arthur enough time to sprint ahead before Gilbert caught up to them. He took France's troops back to England, and they started a resistance. For a while after the incident, Arthur was stone cold. He didn't eat or sleep, his mind was clouded with the thoughts of going to save Francis.

After taking care of the business across Europe in order to turn the tides against the Axis Powers, Arthur was able to finally get his wish through D-Day, the invasion of Normandy. With Arthur, Alfred, and Matthew combined, they were enough to push out the German forces out of France and push them back towards Germany. The rest of the time had been all but a blur. He hadn't been able to see Francis the day they liberated Paris. Apparently, he was too damaged and needed time to recover. It had broken his heart once again. He longed to know what had happened to him, he longed to punish those responsible for hurting him, he wasn't sure if he could forgive Germany and Prussia for what they caused him.

On the Victory in Europe Day, Arthur went to Paris with a good portion of the English soldiers. He was very tired, and though he could have sworn his men were too, they seemed to be so energetic in front of the cheering French crowds. Many of them were trying to sweet talk the French ladies in the streets and blew kisses to loved ones. Not Arthur, though, he still was waiting for Francis to appear.

Suddenly, a figure broke from the crowd and rushed up towards the car that Arthur was riding in. Though he had bandages around his head, all over his arms and a couple on his face, Arthur could clearly recognize who he was. He leapt over the side of the car and ran over to him, wrapping his arms around him and the nearby crowds cheered louder for them.

"Francis...oh my god..." Arthur whispered. It was almost like a dream, and if there were no bandages covering his face, he might have believed it was a dream.

"You're hurt," he said, in a quiet voice that was so unlike Francis's voice and yet it was. He touched the medical eyepatch covering his right eye and noticed the bandages on his neck and cheek.

"I could say the same about you," he laughed lightly. Francis just stared at Arthur for a few minutes, not saying a word, as if trying to take his face into his memory and keep it there. Eventually though, he cracked a small smile and laughed, prompting Arthur to as well.

The Frenchman wrapped his arms around Arthur and said into his shoulder, "I'm so glad to see you, in ways I can't put into words..." Oh god, it hurt Arthur to the core seeing him like this. There had been many occasions where France had suffered greatly during past wars, and had been injured like this, but there was just something different about this time. But, Arthur could feel relief flow into his bloodstream whenever Francis looked at him face to face and grinned happily, "Thanks for the rescue."

"Thanks for waiting on me."

Yeah, so this became really really sappy.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought. :)

Historical Points of Interest:

- England and France refer to their first meeting and their time together when they were young as the Norman conquer of the land that would be known as England. Although they had interaction before the Normans arrived, England was typically associated with the Scandinavians and France was associated with the Romans.

- There were quite a few wars of the Middle Ages that involved England and France, but the most notable conflict between the two countries is the Hundred Years War. It involved the horrific death of Joan of Arc by the hands of the English under the cruel sentence of heresy. However, a notable example of times where the English and French worked together during war was during the Crusades, especially during the peaceful years of King Philip II of France and King Richard I "The Lionheart" of England. Besides the cooperation between the two leaders, there are theories that Philip and Richard may have had relations, considering the lack of romance in Richard's marriage.

- Largely during the time of developing colonies in the New World, England and France were feuding as opposed to working together. They made treaties with surrounding Native American tribes but continued to wage war on one another. The Seven Years War and the American Revolution were prime examples of this. The Seven Years war is often considered the first "world war" since it was fought in the New World and in Europe.

- The French and the English remained bitter towards each other until around the 19th Century whenever they decided to address their differences and make amends between the two countries. However, they truly only became friendly during the early 20th Century whenever the Francophiles of England and the Anglophiles of France spread cultural appreciation between the two countries and eventually led to the creation of the Entente Cordiale, a peace agreement that ended the period of hatred and loathing between France and England. With relations strained after World War II and with other wars that were taking place in different areas of the globe, the governments of the two countries hope to restore the peace between them to the strength that was present during the Entente Cordiale creation.

- During World War II, after it seemed clear that the French would lose against the German troops in France, the British Prime Minister Winston Churchill stated that the United Kingdom would continue to fight to free France, even if they would have to fight alone.