Title: Tormented
Summary: Sequel to Constellations. The war broke them apart, and it has remained that way to the present day. However, desires and affections have not withered over time. Arthur/Francis.
Disclaimer: I do not own and never will.
Warning: Slash, don't like don't read.
Dedication: I've decided to dedicate this one to the author Meluzina. You've kept with me through my previous stories and this is a small thank you!
…
Another meeting and barely anyone was paying attention. Any interest that anyone may have had had long since evaporated, leaving everyone either nodding off, drawing pictures, comic strips or in Alfred's case, making paper airplanes and using them to annoy the nations sat across the other side of the conference table. Ludwig had long ago given up trying to salvage the meeting. Too many fights looked to break out for him to prevent.
Francis watched Arthur from across the table. He detested that green uniform that the Englishman insisted on wearing as it prevented him from seeing his slender body. Francis despised anything on Arthur that did not hug or show off his body.
Arthur was unaware of Francis watching him. His mind was thinking back to the work that desperately needed doing sat on the desk in his study. Seeing how far the meeting had gone south, he wished he could just go home and do that instead. It would be a more productive use of his day.
As he sat and pondered what he should do first as priority, he became faintly aware that he had barely eaten anything in the past week. He quickly dismissed it as trivial when placed beside everything else he had to do.
When it came his turn to talk, Arthur stood to give it. He was aware that no one was listening so he felt that he could speed up the process and miss sections and huge chunks out. Who was he benefiting anyway by even speaking?
About a minute into it, his vision started to go black around the edges and he started to sway on his feet. Arthur placed a hand on the table to stead himself for a few moments before trying to continue. Francis watched him before it suddenly struck him what was happening. Acting purely on instinct, he jumped out of his seat to go to his aid.
"Some one catch him!" Came a distressed cry. Arthur never heard it as he had fallen into black oblivion by this time and had gone crashing to the ground. A dull thud sounded as he impacted it. Francis dropped to his knees by his side, cursing that he should have been faster or thought to have jumped over the table. Arthur remained still under Francis's touch as Francis lifted him from the ground and rested his limp body against his own. Arthur's head tilted back, revealing his white, unblemished neck.
"My sweet L'Angleterre, I do believe there is something on your neck." Francis smiled a sweet, seductive smile as he leaned in and pressed his lips to Arthur's neck, causing Arthur to gasp in pleasure.
"Francis, someone might see us." Arthur fought to keep his voice even as Francis continued to attack his neck with his lips. Arthur shivered as he felt Francis's teeth graze his collar bone.
"Don't worry, my sweet L'Angleterre, no one will discover us."
Francis blinked back the memory and shooed it from his mind. Now was not the time to be reliving past experiences from centuries ago that Arthur had most likely forgotten about.
Quickly sparing his watch a glance, he picked Arthur up as he had done all those centuries ago when had discovered him asleep by the fountain and announced to the nations in the meeting room that he was going to take Arthur to get something to eat. His argument was that it was half twelve. In short, lunch time. They hadn't been unionized, but lunch was clearly on the agenda as Feliciano stood up and promptly announced "PAASSSTTAA" before running off.
With the meeting quickly breaking up and nations dispersing, many still giving Arthur worried glances as he still hadn't come around, Francis dismissed all their worries with a few general comments of recent ill health and poor sleep before leaving the meeting room and taking sanctuary in a spare, smaller, vacant meeting room.
Placing Arthur in one of the chairs, Francis loosened his tie and undid the top three buttons of his shirt before he left and quickly acquired some soup. Racing back to Arthur, he found that Arthur was only just starting to come around. Placing the soup on the table and cupping Arthur's cheek with his hand, Francis studied him carefully. His eyes slipped down Arthur's neck despite his good intentions, the memory of him ravaging the Englishman's neck and causing him to gasp a fond one, only to spot a golden chain resting against the base of Arthur's neck. Curiosity getting the better of him, Francis took the chain in his fingers and pulled it; bring out what was resting against Arthur's chest. He was expecting to see a locket with a picture in it, most likely in his opinion to be of Alfred.
However, what he drew from the depths of Arthur's uniform was something that he was not expecting. In fact, up until that moment when he laid eyes on it again, Francis had even forgotten of its existence.
What he saw was the emerald pendent he had given Arthur all those centuries ago. The very pendent that he had given a sleeping Arthur seventeen years into the war that had divided them, tore them apart to the point that they both considered it impossible to piece back together what they had, though neither had consulted the other. To Francis, that war had taken Arthur from him. He didn't look back in that war with particular fondness. Instead he looked back at it with an ever growing sense of bitterness.
If it had not been for that war, Arthur could still have been his, even now.
Arthur groaned lightly as his hand rose to his head. He blinked several times as day light assaulted his emerald eyes. As he regained consciousness, the first thing he made out was Francis stood leaning over in front of him, staring. He blinked a few more times, his hand trying to waft Francis away as one would do with a fly. As his eyes focused more though, he realized Francis simply wasn't staring at him to make sure he came around okay; there was hope and shock written across his face as well.
"What do you fail to understand about the concept of personal space, frog?" Arthur commented dryly as he sat forward. Something bounced of his uniform covering his chest. Arthur looked down, his eyes opening wide with shock and horror.
"You kept that out of affection, oui?" Francis asked. Arthur's mouth moved but no sounds came out.
Normally one would think that a million questions would race through a persons head when they were in a tight spot. Questions such as 'how do I get out of this one?' or "is that a convincing enough lie?' However, in this case, Arthur's mind went blank. His skills at dealing with affections of the heart had rusted and decayed over the years. After his and Francis's relationship had decayed into ruin, chibi Alfred had come along and taught him that opening up to some was alright, that love was not something to be ashamed of, no matter if it took the form of a lover or a father's love for his child. However, when Alfred had broken his heart and left him, Arthur felt that his conclusion that love was alright to be shown sometimes was false. Letting people in just resulted in him being hurt. He concluded that it was best just to keep people out.
That did not stop him loving though. He came across as hard and bitter because he never let anyone after that close to him at all. Everyone, no exceptions, was held at arms length. Behind closed doors though when he was contemplating or asleep, he found that both Francis and Alfred were very dear to him, despite the fact both thought that he hated them. When he had enough alcohol in him to loosen his mouth, an insight into his pain and anguish concerning the affairs of his heart could be clearly seen, though not many saw it and if they did, they missed the true meaning behind it.
Arthur by this stage had held everyone at arms length for just over two centuries. The result of this was his loneliness. He didn't think he had any friends. But if the price of not being hurt or betrayed was to be lonely, then it was a price he was willing to pay.
Francis had over heard nations talking. Alfred, though dense at times, had a genuine concern about Arthur as he commented that Arthur always seemed to be on his own, and if he wasn't, then he was bickering and arguing. It had hurt the American deeply when he had gone to try to explain his actions to Arthur. All he got was cut off mid-sentence because Arthur had slammed the door in his face and told him to 'piss off'. It was in that order.
Francis had realized that Arthur had issues with letting people close to him a long time ago. He regretted not doing anything about it.
He decided that he would now at least try.
"Do you still dream … about us?" Francis asked. "Do you still remember those letters I wrote to you, proclaiming my undying love?" He then lowered his voice to a whisper. "I still remember what you looked like as you slept when I gave you that necklace."
"Francis … that night, I … I …" Francis watched silently as Arthur stumbled over his words. Arthur stopped talking and took a deep breath before saying in a near whisper, "that night, I was going to give myself to you."
Francis felt as though he had been hit by a brick between his eyes. He remembered all the advancements he made in the attempt of seducing Arthur into bed. Arthur had known him well enough to know to brush them off until he in himself felt ready. Heck, he would never tell, but he enjoyed Francis's advancements.
One of the many things Francis loved about Arthur was the fact he was a challenge. Talking nice and seductively would only get you so far if you happened to be a certain Frenchman. Everyone else it got you no where. More often than not it got you a black eye and if you push hard enough, maybe some missing teeth (as a certain Prussian found out).
Ignoring the very potential consequences of his next action, Francis grabbed Arthur and kissed him deeply. Arthur moaned just like he remembered as his arms snaked around his lithe hips, his hand going into his blonde hair and sending shivers down Arthur's spine. Francis watched him writher with pleasure that Arthur had thought he would never experience again. Only Francis could make him moan and beg for more, to gasp and cry out, to send bolts of electricity coursing through his body.
"You taste like I remember." Francis said as he traced the side of Arthur's face with his fingers. "I dream about it every night."
"What does all this mean?" Arthur breathed, his heart in a vice like grip as he made himself say the words. The next question that was on his lips was, 'can we continue where we left off?' Oh, how he wanted that answer to be yes. Oh, how he longed to hear the three simple words from Francis that he had lived with for eighteen years but spent centuries craving for. However, he still wanted to keep Francis at arms length like everybody else. He didn't want to be hurt again.
"Even after centuries, I still love you." Francis smiled. Arthur felt his heart melt, but his self preservation instinct kicked in with those words.
"I am not another conquest that you can just add to your list of used and abused." Arthur retorted, his heart screaming out for an explanation as to what he was doing.
"You want to know the truth behind that?"
"The truth behind why you run around and sleep and flirt with everybody?" Arthur asked, his emerald eyes glazing over with pain while he retreated back behind the wall of insults and sarcasm that he protected himself with. "The reason behind why you have a predatory stare at anyone who has anything about them in the looks section? You know, I would love an answer, twat." Arthur felt his cheeks heat up. No matter how much he loved Francis, he wasn't going to be abused. He had seen that too often in the past to allow it to happen to himself.
"The reason I did that was because I was trying to find someone to replace you." Francis replied, his entire expression truthful. Arthur was taken aback at first before staring hard into Francis's blue eyes, trying to find any hint of lies. He couldn't find any. Arthur's expression softened.
"You … you mean that?" He asked, his emerald orbs shining with hope. His eyes always gave away what he truly felt.
"Oui, and no one could stand up to what you mean to me. No one else could give me that trill, that excitement that rose from the pit of my stomach every time I saw you. No one could look at me the same way you do through those beautiful eyes. Every time you do I fall in love with you again. It has been agony L'Angleterre for these past centuries. To be so close to you, yet so far, my love still as strong as the day I confessed to you with my plea for my heart to be understood. My love has never died for you, but has only grown more stronger in your absence. The biggest mistake of my life was to let you go and not to pursue you. I could never find a way to bridge that chasm that the war put between us, but looking back now with hindsight, I wish I had found some way. Centuries of bickering and petty insults with the occasional war thrown in has left me hollow. Only the burning passion I have for you and the fond memories of the times we had together are the only reminder that I once held you in my arms and kissed your sweet, sweet lips, that I once felt your breath on my neck as you slept, and the delicate scent of woodland, meadows and heather that I could smell when I brush my hand through your hair. I tell you again mon cheri, the worst mistake I ever made was not to go after you. War had divided us, but that could not have stopped me from pursuing you after. I have spent centuries regretting. All that time that we should have been together, making each other happy … wasted."
Arthur listened as Francis poured his heart out. The cynical side was shrieking at him not to be bowled over by this supposed love confession. However, his heart and soul was crying out for him to leap into Francis's arms and weep with joy that after so long, after all hope had gone, that his feelings were still reciprocated.
"I can see that you question everything I say." Francis didn't look hurt. He knew where Arthur was coming from. The uncertainty he was feeling was justified. "We could start again?" Francis suggested. Arthur looked up at him.
"Again?"
"Oui. We have both changed in the time that has elapsed. We should truly get to know one another again."
"Know each other?" Arthur asked, a single eyebrow rising and suspicion sneaking back in.
"Why must you always question my motives, mon cheri?"
"Well, let me see …" Arthur began, ready to start counting them off on his fingers.
"That was rhetorical L'Angleterre." Francis chuckled lightly. "What I meant was candle lit dinners, moonlight walks, talking over coffee … or tea."
"You mean dating?"
"Oui, that's exactly what I mean." Francis smiled a genuine smile that reassured Arthur greatly. "We no longer live in a time where we have to hide what we have. We don't have to sneak around everybody's back to see one another. We can walk around in the open air holding hands now. I could kiss you in public if I so chose." That made Arthur blush and about to complain. "I know you like your privacy though, so I won't."
"Who are you and what have you done with the real Francis?" Arthur joked light heartedly. Francis laughed and pulled Arthur to his chest, hugging and kissing him. His gamble paid off as Arthur kissed him back, pressing his slender body against his and wrapping his arms around his neck.
Breaking the kiss to see a blushing Arthur happily in his arms made Francis think that Arthur fainting when he did must have been fate. Francis's smile then became pain filled. "I want you to be able to trust me again." He spotted the soup sat on the table which was now cold. "I'm sorry Arthur, but the lunch I fetched you has gone cold." Francis genuinely did feel sorry. Arthur did tend to forget to eat when he was piled under work, and he knew that Arthur had been under increasing pressure as of late.
Arthur spared it a fleeting glance before laughing.
"Never mind, you can take me out to dinner later."
End.