Inattendu
~…~
He stares at the greenest grass he had seen in his entire century of life. His pearl white shoes are a great comparison, the color, though pale, was sharp, like it might stab the lush green with its freezing, gleaming hue. The rest of his attire is a perfect match to these shoes, gleaming white, like an angel. His hair almost seems more golden than usual. His appearance is enchanting, to say the very, very least.
And what a lovely garden party, that is, if today were to be opposite day.
The scenery is nearly as beautiful as he is. All of his favorite lilies and roses embrace the area and four of the human senses. The point being, the area itself it not what prompts Francis's sarcasm. It is the promise as empty as the area that brought on this bitterness.
There he is, as stunning as what is possible, and there is no one. Not a breath besides Francis' fills the space, not a single word or gaze.
At first he had thought that it was a joke.
Half an hour later the joke was no longer funny.
He stands in cold silence, looking around him for a sign of human life. He had searched the area, and no one. He sighs, it was time to go home.
The invitation had come from his significant other himself. That is the only reason he had stayed so long, he hoped to Christ that Ludwig had not done this to him. His heart crumbles with every second he doesn't see anyone, the closer he comes to tears. But he hasn't cried. At least not yet.
There isn't any hope any more, at least not enough. He turns, ready to exit.
But he thought, or maybe even knew, that he heard a strange noise.
It resembles a line of string instruments, testing their melodious abilities, checking to see if tuning was a necessity.
Francis hears the sound, his eyes widening slightly. It looks as though the sound came from...a shrub?
He nears the shrubbery, and, feeling a little adventurous, he moved along the line of bushes. To his surprise, the line went on longer than he had noticed before, much, much longer. Eventually, a marble walkway had turned up, and Francis sighs of relief. Not due to the paved way, but there, standing in a midnight-colored suit, is Gilbert.
He has never, in all honesty, been happier to see Gilbert in all of his years.
He waves, to catch the man's attention, continuing to approach with quick steps.
Rubies draw themselves from whatever is beyond the thick bush that shrouds Francis's field of vision, and the irritated gaze falls on Francis. Gilbert scoffs, turning up his nose, muttering something Francis didn't quite recognize.
Francis doesn't let his friend's characteristically rude 'greeting' tear him away from his gladness to see a human being. Eagerly, Francis asks what was going on, if they are the only ones here, and several other questions concerning the situation at hand.
Gilbert, almost visually, pushes all Francis had asked aside. The albino nation frowns and demands to know 'where he had been'.
Francis is further confused, wanting to know what the hell Gilbert was talking about, and he persists the question of why they are here.
Gilbert's eyes roll, he shakes his head as is trying to free it of nonsense and answers.
"Du Idiot! I'm here to walk you down the aisle!"
Francis freezes, a shocked, "Quoi!", tumbling off his lips.
Gilbert extends to him an arm instead of explaining what he meant, and, slowly, Francis locks arms with Gilbert. The Prussian whistled, and the music had started. He escorts Francis into the grove his blood-colored eyes had been glued to earlier, and Francis witnessed the reason why.
Violins hum a soft and beautiful tone, a tone Francis heard in his many sweet dreams, where he sees his lover standing there, as dashing as could be.
And this sweet dream just became a reality.
Ludwig waits for his love to come to the altar, decorated in vines and flowers, gorgeous vintage draperies adorning the tablelike structure. A smile graces the Germanic nation's usually solemn features, a calm, handsome smile.
The world moves in slow motion as Francis approaches, and thank god Gilbert was holding him, or he'd have fallen. He is overwhelmed with incredible joy, the intense feeling comes forth as tears, weighing his eyelids and pushing past them, streaming down his face like beautiful rivers of happiness. Francis doesn't like it when he cries. He thinks he looks ugly.
Ludwig could never have disagreed with him more. He looks too beautiful, amazingly beautiful. His heartbeat speeds up, just a little, as Gilbert shoves Francis up the steps to the altar, handing him a bouquet of roses and draping a cape, the purest of whites, over his shoulders. Finally, Gilbert moves, taking his place behind Ludwig as the best man.
Francis' watery eyes look out at the audience.
The row closest to the altar is, of course, their closest friends themselves. Feliciano waves cheerily, Lovino beside him with his arms crossed and eyes turned away (because why would Francis marry such a potato bastard?) Beside Lovino is Antonio, as expected, smiling broadly at Francis, and the smile is returned thoughtfully. Next to Antonio sits Matthew, and by Matthew is Alfred. Behind Alfred is Arthur (Why is Arthur here?) and beside Arthur is Ivan, Toris, Feliks, Natalya, Elizaveta, they are all there. All smiling, all excited, all happy, the most of them.
Francis turns his eyes back towards his fiancé, tears reproducing greatly as he is taken aback with love, passionate, beautiful love.
"Surprise." Ludwig speaks quietly, as if the others weren't allowed to hear.
"Oh, Ludwig..." A smile, "Why today?"
"Why not?" He wipes away the tears, smiling handsomely, "I hope this is okay?"
"It's perfect." Francis promises. "Everything est parfait." He relishes in Ludwig's warm touch.
The man trusted to perform the ceremony emerges from the grove. "Salve, Francis."
"Roma Antiqua!", the pushes out along with Francis's unbelieving breath, "You're here!"
The Ancient Roman nods, placing his hand atop both mens' heads. "Ludwig, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and care for Francis until the day death do you part?"
Ludwig nods, eyes glued to Francis. He says he will.
"Francis, do you promise to honor, cherish, love, and care for Ludwig until death do you part?"
Francis exhales, attempting to steady his breaths. He says he will.
"Than, by the power invested in me by the Holy Roman Catholic Church, and in agreement with the Holy Protestant Church of Germany, I pronounce you married." He smiles, "You may kiss."
Ludwig looks lovingly at his new husband, and Francis can feel the love in his eyes/ They inch closer and closer toward one another, eyes closing slowly, heads tilting to the left, until finally, their lips lock to officiate their marriage to one another.
Sighs of happiness for the two flood the area (some even whistle, the kiss is a little longer than what might be necessary), before the two join hands and proceed down the aisle, a symbol of the married two walking into their new life together.