A/N: This started off as a one-shot based off of "In the Bluebell Woods", but it quickly exploded into a super long story that desperately needed to be split into chapters.

Apologies in advance for my horrible foreign language skills! Feel free to correct me as needed!

Chapter I

Francis didn't consider himself to be much of a dreamer in the magical sense. Sure, he loved listening to the fairytales and myths his mother read to him, but he didn't love them for the witches and magical creatures inlaid within the stories' pages. No, he loved listening to the endless tales of romance and the trials and tribulations love would overcome. When nighttime came and it was story time, he would be on the edge of his seat, eagerly waiting for his mother to reach the end, where the prince would reach the princess and they would live happily ever after together.

"My, aren't you a romantic!" his mother had giggled one night, when he had said he wanted her to reread Beauty and the Beast. "This is the the fifth time you've wanted to hear that tale this month!" She then stroked his silky blonde hair when he pouted and smiled. "It is a magnifique tale, though. I can see why you are enchanted by it, mon petit cœur." She then kissed his forehead and flipped through her large book of fairy tales, searching for the gold-trimmed page titled La Belle et la Bête.

He was fast asleep as soon as his mother enunciated the last word of the story, curled under his sheets with a small, satisfied smile stretched across his face. His mother kissed his forehead and tucked him in, wondering what sweet, romantic dreams her blessed child would have over the course of the night.

That night, he dreamed about getting lost in a forbidden, magical forest and eventually stumbling upon a clearing covered in bluebells. In the midst of the secluded clearing was a small cloaked figure with its back to him. But before he could even begin to wonder who the cloaked figure was, the image faded into black emptiness and he was being gently woken up by his mother.

"Maman, maman!" he exclaimed. "I had a wonderful dream last night!"

"Oh?" she asked as she brushed his hair. "What was it?"

"I was in a forest and found a clearing covered with pretty blue flowers!"

"Oh, that's very interesting, mon petit cœur." She smiled and kissed his forehead.

That night, she read him another fairytale and tucked him in for the night. Once again, he dreamed that he was in the clearing, playing and basking in the soft bed of flowers beneath his feet. However, the moment his eyes fell upon the back of the cloaked figure in the distance, he woke up to the bright rays of sunshine and his mother's warm smile.

"Maman, I had the dream again!" he exclaimed.

She hummed in thought. "Oh? Perhaps it is a sign. Or even a message from the future!"

"Really?" he asked.

She kissed his forehead. "You never know," she whispered.

From that day on, every time he found himself dreaming about the wonderful forest clearing of bluebells, he would wake up and muse over what message the dream could possibly be trying to deliver to him.

The dreams stopped when he learned that his family had to move across the English Channel and into the rainy country of England for his father's work. His mother found herself too busy to read him bedtime stories and he became increasingly worried and anxious about leaving his home country. Finally, after what seemed to be forever, they made the move across the channel and settled down in their new home: a modest house at the edge of the woods in the countryside, far away from the popular, bustling city.

"I know it is hard, mon cheri," his mother said. "But think of this. Your father tells me that the locals believe these woods to be filled with magic."

"Magic?" Francis questioned boredly. "Ah, how exciting."

His mother smiled and her eyes twinkled. "Oh, but this magic is a special type of magic. It is said that this magic sleeps deeply in the wood, waiting to bring two destined lovers together even throughout their trials and tribulations."

That perked the seven year old up a great deal. "Lovers?" he asked. "So this sleeping magic...is the magic of amour?"

"Oui," she answered. "Who knows? Maybe you are the one who will help awaken it."

That night, for the first time in months, he dreamed that he was back in the woods. He was following an old, overgrown path leading deeper and deeper into the forest. Eventually, he realized that the path had disappeared and he was wandering blindly through the darkness. He fumbled and cried out, trying to find his way back to the path. Suddenly, he stumbled across the tranquil clearing of bluebells. And, just the same as before, the cloaked figure was standing amidst the vibrant flowers in the distance. However, just as he was about to say something, the dream ended and he woke up to the dark ceiling of his new bedroom in his new home.

He was only slightly nervous on the first day of school. Some people had trouble understanding his accented English, but for the most part, everyone seemed to be nice and friendly. His first friend was Antonio, a brown haired, green-eyed Spanish boy that had moved to the area two years ago. At first, they had a difficult time understanding the other's accented English, but soon, the accents became nothing more than a wonderful characteristic of the other.

Almost half a year later, an albino German boy moved into the area and boldly introduced himself to Francis and Antonio as "The Awesome Gilbert!" Despite his arrogance and insistence on being Prussian, not German, the three quickly became inseparable friends. The name that the town would eventually call them by, however, was not officially coined until a few months later, when a boy transferred to their school and changed Francis's life in more ways than one.

It started off normal enough. Their teacher had informed the small class of a new student starting at the school the next day. Later that day, during lunch, Gilbert had conceived the "totally awesome" idea of messing around with the new kid. So when the next day came, the three set to work on making the new kid as weirded out as possible.

The new kid was an English boy with scruffy blonde hair, green eyes, and the most hideous eyebrows Francis had ever laid his eyes upon. To top it all off, he seemed more like a young gentleman than a child when the teacher introduced him and he politely greeted his new classmates. Nevertheless, at lunch, the trio of Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio made comical jabs at the boy, who was sitting but a table away from them. Later on that day, the boy finally snapped and called him all insufferable brats. "The trio of awesomeness?" he had scoffed when Gilbert protested. "More like the Bad Touch Trio! Everything you touch turns into utter rubbish!"

And thus was how the Bad Touch Trio became the most infamous friend group in the entire town.

For the first time in a year, Francis had the dream. He was lying down at the base of a tree in the forest, squinting through the darkness of the world beneath the canopy of leaves. Eventually, he pushed himself to a stand, using the trunk for support. He stumbled through the darkness for some time afterward, trying not to trip over any roots and his own feet. All he could think about was getting out of the dark world of trees and back home to his warm house and loving family.

The next thing he knew, he had emerged in a clearing. He felt his breath stop at his lips when he realized that he had emerged in the clearing of bluebells he had dreamed about so many times before in the past. He had been so preoccupied with school and spending time with his friends that he had nearly forgotten about the place. Daintily, he stepped into the field of bluebells, scanning over the budding flowers. If he remembered correctly, there should be…

He froze when he saw the distantly familiar cloaked figure. They were standing on the other side of the clearing with their back towards him. He could now see that the cloak was a wonderful shade of bottle green with black trim. Unfortunately for him, that was all he could see of the figure.

"Bonjour?" He called out. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

The figure either didn't hear him or ignored him, for there was no reply. They didn't even move. Francis brushed a stray blonde strand of hair out of his eyes and frowned.

"Hello?" he called.

A breeze suddenly wafted through the clearing. The bluebells waved along with it, as if they were sharing a dance with the wind. Francis cupped his hands around his mouth and was about to shout out one more when he suddenly felt very lightheaded. Before he could even make a sound, he felt his legs give out and he fell into the bed of flowers beneath his feet.

"Hello?" he heard someone whisper as his vision faded to black.

Francis woke up in cold sweat. He quickly sat up and looked over towards the window, quickly finding that it was still pitch black outside. He looked at his nightstand and learned that it wasn't even three in the morning. With a disgruntled sigh, he fell back against his bed and draped a hand over his eyes. When he managed to close them again, all he could see was the cloaked figure standing in the midst of a flourishing ring of bluebells.