She was a peasant-a redheaded, freckle-faced island girl, her ankles chaffed with the bonds of her enemy across the sea.
He was an aristocrat, a connoisseur of the finest wines and women, spending his days lounging in Versailles.
But they had a common enemy: the empire between them. His strength began to buckle and he called for help- she appeared at his side.
"I'll fight as long as you need me," she promised. She drove the enemy from his land.
Her scream pierced the air- he raced to her aid. Time passed; the age of soldiers and war faded; their mutual brigade was dissolved and each went their own way.
Now he kneels in the grass, tears dripping down his cheeks.
"Maerad…I still need you," he whispers.
A hand brushes his tears away.
"I promised," she says. Their lips meet; the alliance that was always meant to be is complete.
150 words-the reason I am no longer a journalist. I barely managed this. Anywho, it's for XXStarXXGirlXX's contest-a flash fiction of France and Ireland.
History: Ireland was part of the French-Irish brigade; France and Ireland really fought together. In 1798, France came to help Ireland with a rebellion. Unfortunately, they landed on the wrong side of the island and then tried to WALK across (-France would do this). I have a vignette entitled "That's WEST, Francis" that depicts this incident. So this pairing is NOT, in fact, crack. It's possible. Plus, how could they not bond over a mutual hatred of England?