Her eyes. That was the first thing Arthur had noticed about her. Not her unfashionably short hair or her simple white gown, but her vivid eyes. They stared straight back at him, unwavering. He felt almost as if they were boring into his soul. Unable to bear it, he looked around him instead. A group of people surrounded the woman, roaring and moving like one giant, ferocious beast, calling for fresh blood. The woman ignored them, still staring at him from her place tied to the stake. As a grinning man with a flaming torch came closer, she looked ahead suddenly, into the crowd. Arthur could not help but turn his head to see what had caught this amazing woman's attention. In the crowd stood Francis, his eyes filled with shock and sadness as he looked at the woman, looking as if he could barely stand under the heavy weight of his emotions. Then he looked at Arthur. Instantly, he changed. His eyes became blue flames, fueled by anger and betrayal. His back straightened and his eyes narrowed. Like with the woman, Arthur looked away, unable to stand the intensity of Francis's gaze. He didn't look up until he heard the torch fall onto the pile around the giant center pole. He slowly looked up and was once again caught by the woman's eyes. She opened her mouth and said something. As Arthur was the only one close to it, he was the only one who heard. The crowd roared louder as the flames began to rise. She ignored them and looked up, closing her eyes and smiled softly, as if she held a secret as the flames grew taller and surrounded her, hiding Joan of Arc.

Arthur woke with a start from his dream, his eyes wide as in his mind, he was still in the dream, hearing the flames and seeing Francis shake with rage as tears silently fell down his face. He looked around and realized he was in his room, in his bed, away from that horrible time. He then heard a harsh beeping sound. He looked next to him to see his clock blinking 11:00 at him. He wearily pressed the button, silencing. He slowly got out of bed, almost rethinking his plan before quickly brushing the thought away. I have to go, he thought. It's what she deserves. He went to his closet and put on his suit before grabbing the bouquet of flowers next to his clock and heading out the door. At the curb stood a running cab. He silently stepped into it. The driver simply waited until he was buckled in before driving off towards their destination. A few minutes into their drive, the driver spoke.

"It must be a beautiful if you're bringing her flowers at this time of night. Especially if you're going to a different country to do it." Arthur smiled sadly.

"Yes, I suppose she was beautiful in her own way." The driver was silent after that. He quickly stepped out when they reached the airport and walked swiftly to reach his plane in time. As he sat down in his seat, he relaxed and let his thoughts drift back to back then. He still remembered the first time he had met her.

He sighed as he relaxed into the water. It was the first bath he had taken in weeks. If he had known it would be this boring and smelly travelling with the army as moral support, he never would have agreed. Suddenly he heard a splash and the edge of a sword was pointed at his throat. Arthur looked up only to be blinded by the person's armor glinting in the sun.

"Who are you?" The person demanded. Their english was accented.

"I am..." He almost said who he was until he realized that the soldier might kidnap and ransom him to the british. He looked back up, squinting his eyes to avoid the glare.

"I am Alan, a lowly servant. You will get nothing from kidnapping or killing me." He heard a light chuckle and the sword moved away from his throat as the person took off their helmet.

"I will never harm an innocent." The person shook their short hair out and smiled at him, stretching a hand out to help him up.

"I'm Joan. It's nice to meet you, Alan."

"Sir?" Arthur started as a stewardess tapped his shoulder.

"Sorry to startle you, but we have landed in France." Arthur nodded and the woman walked away. He got up, taking his flowers and leaving the plane. As he left the airport, he called a cab. As he got in, he told the driver where to go. This time, the driver said nothing. When they reached it, he paid the driver and got out. As the cab drove away he looked up at the hill and the grave on top. Every year, he would come to the grave that Francis had left for her and leave her flowers, telling her about what he had done to try to make Francis just a little bit happier and forget about his pain from long ago. He knew he still felt it because sometimes he would see it in Francis's eyes when he thought no one was looking. He silently climbed the hill and stood in front of the grave. He put down the flowers.

"You should have seen him the other day. He had taken me with him to spread rumors about Germany. Only Germany though, he refused to say anything bad about Italy. He still cares for the child. We wore suits and sunglasses and it was fun. Hell, he was smiling happily the whole time." Arthur stood there quietly.

"He still misses you know," he whispered. "He still gets that look in his eye, as if his loved one has been taken from him. How am I supposed to help him. How do you help heal a wound that isn't physical?I don't know how to-"

"What are you doing?" A voice interrupted him. He looked up to see Francis. The night was so dark that he could not make out the expression on his face.

"I-I..." Francis looked down at his flowers and then back at him.'

"You were the one that has been leaving flowers all these years?" Arthur silently nodded.

"Why?" Arthur was quiet as he thought of a reply.

"We were...friends."

"And you still just watched her burn?" Tears sprang to Arthur's eyes.

"I could do as much as you could. She made me promise to not rescue her before she was..." Francis said nothing, only stood there. Arthur began to walk away.

"Wait." Arthur turned around and looked at him wearily, suddenly tired.

"What?"

"When she was about to burn, I saw her tell you something. What did she say?" Arthur looked away.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He heard it when Francis walked over but did not expect his voice to sound as close as it did when he spoke.

"Tell me what she said." He begged. Arthur stood there silently for a minute before replying,

"She told me to keep my promise." With that, he walked away from the grave and away from Francis. He was not stopped.