Hetalia and the Characters are not mine. Joan of Arc was an actual person. The song is not mine. "Francis" belongs to Coeur de Pirate. Also, I don't know France's national anthem.

Francis, tu as tant de chose à dire
Mais le tout reste enfermer
Et quand tu ne sais plus quoi dire
Tu te mets à pleurer
Mais ça ton publique le voit pas
Tu l'incites à rêver, pendant que toi tu le regarde

[Francis, you have so many things to say
But all of it remains locked up inside
And when you no longer know what to say
You start crying
But your public doesn't get to see it
You conduce them to dream, while you look at them]

A soft smile came to the French man's face as he walking in the small flower shop on the corner of the street.

"Thanks, Angleterre." He told the man with him, who was slightly confused.

"Why would you thank me, you cheesy frog?" The English man said to him, filled with quilt.

"Angleterre, all humans die one day. Plaire, just stop." The French man replied.

"I bloody killed her! How can you be so forgiving! Are you mad? I thought you loved her!" the man named Arthur yelled at the man named Francis.

Francis looked at the English man in the eyes. His deep blue eyes were filled with pain and hurt. He did love her. He loved her with all of his heart.

His French accent was filled with sorrow when he gave the man his answer. "I did, Angleterre. I did."
He sighed, letting out a slight chuckle. "She wouldn't want me to be mad at you, Angleterre. She forgives you."

The English man just watched the French one. Nodding ever so slightly.

Francis, les mots restent bien coincé devant cette fille qui ne demande
Pas mieux que de se faire aimer
Toi, tu ne sais pas comme t'y prendre
Ta gorge resserrer, et ton cœur bat de plus belle
Alors que tes yeux sont sur elle

[Francis, the words remain stuck in front of this girl who is quite willing
To be loved
You don't go the right way about it
A lump in your throat, your heart's beating faster and faster
While your eyes are on her]

After a silence, Francis, with his accent slurred, asked the other, "What kind of flowers should I get her?"

"Fleur de lis." He quickly replied. "She loved her country, right?" He added. "Then…your national Lilies should do."

Francis smirked. "Hmmm? You did your research. "

"I-I could at least know other countries national information!" He stammered back.

Ruffling the Brit's hair, he whispered a soft 'thank you'. Then he pranced off to find some.

Mais moi, je ne t'oublierai pas et je compte sur toi
Pour venir en aide
À ceux qui ressentent pour toi, ce que tu écris dans ces chansons pour elle

[But I won't forget you and I trust you
To help you
Those who feel for you what you write in your songs for her]

After finding the most beautiful bunch of them, the French man walk back to where the other was standing. But he wasn't there. He frowned. Slightly sad, thinking that the Brit had left him alone.

"Let's go. I already paid." The Brit said from behind.

Francis giggled and his face lit up intimately. "Awwww, Angleterre! Merci~!" He squealed.
After that, he gave Arthur a slight hug, swearing that he hear him mutter an insult at the French man, but he didn't care.

Saying his farewells to the Brit, he skipped out of the cute little flower shop.

Francis, je m'en vais bientôt et je pense très très fort à toi
Pendant que mes doigts au piano te jouent tout ce que je te dois
Et rappelle toi que tu peux avoir le monde à tes pieds
Si tu ne te laisse pas abattre par ceux qui te laisse de côté

[Francis, I'm leaving soon and you're really really in my thoughts
While my fingers play all that I owe you on the piano
And remember that you can have the whole world at your feet
If you don't let those who put you aside bring you down]

Francis walked for an hour in till he reached his destination. The walk was worth it in his mind. Walking toward her grave, he whispered, "I'm here, Joan."

Finally reaching her grave, he stood still in front of it, and began to softly sing.

Allons enfants de la patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arriv?
Contre nous de la tyrannie
L'tendard sanglant est lev?
Entendez vous dans les campagnes,
Mugir ces f?roces soldats?
Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras
Egorger nos fils, nos compagnes!

He sang, his voice sang the lyrics with such passion and emotion. His voice was smooth and cool. After he finished singing 'La Marseillaise', he placed the flowers down on her grave.

As if he could see her strong, smiling face filled with life, tears streaked down his face. They hit the ground ever so softly. His eyes were filled with tears as he thought of her. How much he loved her. How much he missed her. How much he needed her. How much he wanted her.

But he knew. He knew he must stay strong for her. And he must protect the country she loved so much.

He still loves her, with all of his heart.

"Je t'aime."

Et moi, je ne t'oublierai pas et je compte sur toi
Pour venir en aide
À ceux qui ressentent pour toi, ce que tu écris dans ces chansons pour elle
Mais moi, je ne t'oublierai pas et je compte sur toi
Pour venir en aide
À ceux qui ressentent pour toi, ce que tu écris dans ces chansons pour elle

[But I won't forget you and I trust you
To help you
Those who feel for you what you write in your songs for her
But I won't forget you and I trust you
To help you
Those who feel for you what you write in your songs for her]

Well? How is it? I would love to hear what you think! To be honest, at first I really didn't like France. But now, I love him! He's so cool! This is my favorite paring with France, and I've love Joan of Arc since I was a little kid. I was listing to 'Francis' when I got the idea!

I hope you enjoyed it!