Author Commentary: This was actually written for my forensic science project. I had to write a story that went along with the crime scene that we're planning, and this is what came of it. I figured why not enjoy myself and make a fanfic out of it?
Title: Bloody Tea
Characters: Francis Bonnefoy/France, Arthur Kirkland/Britain/England
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Warning: Blood, stabbing, character death, blood drinking, rating is for those things, not smut.
Francis Bonnefoy was the French ambassador, visiting England to work on the relationship between France and England with one Arthur Kirkland. They were set to have tea at 2 o' clock sharp, so Francis was hurrying to the private room in Parliament that Arthur had reserved for the two of them. When he walked in, he saw a table set for tea, with a cute little tea cake, knife resting beside it, waiting to cut it, some scones, and other assorted treats that you would generally find waiting for you when you planned a tea party.
"You're five minutes late," Arthur remarked, taking Francis's coat and hanging it on a nearby hook, looking completely disapproving.
"My apologies. I got caught up in the confusing streets of this country. I'll try to give myself more time to figure them out on my next visit," Francis remarked, trying his best not to let his annoyance be obvious in his tone.
"Whatever. Let's just get this meeting over with," Arthur said, taking his seat. Why he had to be the one to deal with the Frenchman, he didn't know. All he knew was that the man was already getting on his nerves.
Francis sat opposite the little Brit and looked him over. He was dressed in nice pants, and a white shirt covered by a green sweater vest, a black tie showing through. The man had no sense of style! Not when compared to the nice silk shirt that he was wearing, designer name pants and shoes to go with it.
The two, barely managing to keep their disdain for one another under control, began to talk business and politics. Getting into the workings of their need for better relations between the two famous countries. After a bit, though, the two realized they were getting nowhere but more annoyed, so they decided to take a short break from talking to get their tempers under control.
"You haven't touched anything yet," Arthur remarked, eyeing the Frenchman's unbitten scones and unsipped tea.
Francis looked down at his plate and pulled a face. He utterly abhorred English cooking and really didn't want to poison his body with whatever was in the scone. But, for the sake of being polite, he picked up the scone and bit into it. He nearly gagged and had to pick up his napkin to spit the thing out into. People in his country fed their dogs better tasting food than the rubbish he'd just tried to eat out of politeness!
"Ugh," Francis said, grimacing and washing down the taste with a bit of Earl Grey. One thing Brits did have down was their tea. The cooking may be inedible, and possibly hazardous to one's health, but the tea was exquisite. "Those scones are disgusting!" he exclaimed without thinking, causing Arthur to frown at his guest's manners. "Are you trying to poison me or something?" Francis continued, not seeing the look on Arthur's face, which only darkened more as the Frenchman continued to speak.
"I'll have you know that I baked those scones myself this morning and they are indeed edible! In fact, I find them to be delicious!" he exclaimed before taking a bite of one of the scones and swallowing it, trying his best to keep his gentlemanly mannerisms all the while.
"You have no taste!" Francis shouted without giving thoughts to his words. "I don't know why my country even wants to strengthen its ties with such an uncultured country as yours! Your food is the worst thing that I have ever put into my mouth, you have no sense of style and you need to learn what a pair of tweezers are! I mean honestly! What is with that pair of caterpillars above your eyes? Don't you ever groom them?" Each of these words gushed from Francis's mouth before he could stop them, his frustration with the British man causing him to be rash and probably ruin any chances that France and England had in cultivating strong, lasting ties with one another.
A scream of rage tore itself from Arthur's lips and he gripped the handle of the cake knife before flipping the tea table out of the way in his anger. The table flew quite far, losing the cake, scones, and tea in the process and making quite a mess. All thoughts of being a polite gentleman fled his mind, replaced with complete loathing for the man in front of him. The man who had insulted Arthur and his country for the last time. Flinging himself into the now empty space between them, Arthur grabbed hold of Francis and plunged the cake knife right between two ribs and into his heart, tearing at the expensive clothing as he did so.
Pulling away, Arthur watched as the blood pooled around the still stuck knife, staining the fabric a rich red color that looked absolutely delicious. Moving his eyes up, Arthur looked to the Frenchman's face, watching him gape like a fish out of water. Arthur was a little shocked at what he had done, but he was even more shocked to find that he didn't feel remorse for it. He watched the color drain from the frog's face and his eyes start to lose their vibrancy when he had an idea. The red of his blood was such an appetizing color, so Arthur found his teacup, which somehow still had a bit of tea in it, then went up to Francis, pulled up his shirt and then tugged the knife out, holding the cup to the wound. Once the knife was removed, the blood flowed even faster, filling Arthur's teacup. Once there was a nice mixture of blood and tea, Arthur brought the cup to his lips and took a sip, his pinky extended in its usual gentlemanly fashion. The liquid within the cup was still warm. It was a bit thicker than normal and had an irony taste to it. Arthur could still faintly taste the tea that was contained within before the blood had been added, but it was very much overpowered. Arthur decided that while it did taste good, it was probably something that he shouldn't get hooked on, so he neatly set down his cup, and then left the room.
Arthur realized that if he just left Francis there, people would assume it was him, so he quick rinsed out his mouth to get rid of the scent of blood on his breath, and then ran to the security desk, making sure to look wild eyed and scared. Then told a tale about how someone had run in and stabbed the Frenchman and how he was terribly frightened for his life. He figured the gits would believe him and he would get away with it without so much as a hassle.