July 13, 1789

The soft knock at the door roused Francis from his quiet thoughts. Rising to his feet, he walked softly to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open. The blond man standing outside raised his eyes to meet Francis's, gazing into his gleaming blue eyes. Francis paused a moment, then murmured,"Arthur."

The other man bobbed his head, responding with a soft, "Francis."

They stood there for a while, Francis's hand still on the doorknob, Arthur shifting his weight from foot to foot, casting his eyes about, examining Francis and his house. Francis cleared his throat. "Won't you come in?"

He stood aside, moving gracefully, allowing Arthur to enter his house. Closing the door behind him, Francis indicated that Arthur should sit down, he himself taking his usual seat near the fireplace. Arthur sat across from him, laying his hat on the small side table. Francis reached for the table between them, picking up the teapot and filling each of the two cups with the sweet smelling, deep brown liquid. "I believe you take two sugar and no milk, correct?" He asked Arthur, raising his eyebrow at him.

Arthur nodded, with a quiet, "I can't believe you remember."

Francis chuckled slightly, spooning sugar into his own cup. Leaning forward, he handed the other cup to Arthur, hearing a slight,"Thank you."

Arthur raised his cup to his lips, taking a small sip and letting out an appreciative sigh. Francis watched him for a moment, drinking from his own cup. After a moment, he said, "I hope I find you in good health?"

Arthur inclined his head, replying, "Fine health, thank you. And yourself?"

"I am in very good health, thank you."

The two men sat there, the high pitched chirp of the birds outside providing the only source of noise. Perrie let out small coos, snuggling into himself on his perch in the corner. Francis glanced at Arthur, then demurely asked, "And England is doing well? I understand, so soon after the war..."

He was pushing it, he knew it. Arthur's mouth tightened, but he said, "England is doing fine as well."

He made no indication that he was going to continue, so Francis took the opportunity to study Arthur. How different he was! No longer was he the young boy, whose eyes lit with his magic, who was so very vain about his hair. No, although Arthur still looked a young man(a handsome one, at that), he seemed to sink with under all the weight of his life. His eyes, still green, still topped by those ridiculous eyebrows, seemed deeper, scarier. There was a time when Arthur would have worn a haughty look. Now he just seemed old.

"Have you heard from Matthew lately?"

The question startled Francis; partly because Arthur remembered Matthew's name, and partly because he cared. Francis gazed at him for second, searching his face. Then he answered, "Yes, he writes frequently. Matthew is a good boy to his papa."

Arthur nodded.

"And..." Francis hesitated. Should he? "And how are your brothers? And...Alfred? Do you hear from them at all?"

"Allistor and the others are very well. They send letters very often." Arthur's voice was empty and cold. "I expect Alfred is fine as well."

"That is very good." Francis paused, and leaned back his chair. "Have you heard the latest rumors?"

"There are many rumors, Francis. What do these one's concern?"

"I heard from Antonio." Francis glanced out the window. "Apparently, some...people like us, they want to have a meeting of all of us." Francis waved his hand over the two of them. Arthur nodded, showing his understanding.

"A meeting? That might be interesting and perhaps a good idea. Do you think it might really happen? Are there more details?"

Francis placed his cup and saucer down. "Apparently, there would be one meeting a month. I haven't the faintest what we would discuss- international relationships, perhaps? I might go, if I can learn more about it."

"Mm. Sounds interesting. I suppose I would go."

Arthur paused, then gave a slight chuckle. Francis gave him a questioning look, and he elaborated, "Could you imagine everyone in one room? Who would get us under control?"

Francis laughed. It was an amusing image- everyone, enemies and and friends alike, sitting together. What a unusual meeting that would be!3"Of course, if such a thing were to occur, I doubt that it would be much help to any international relationships. Many people hold grudges." Arthur frowned. Francis could only imagine how much he ached, still reeling from Alfred's revolution. Francis made a small noise indicating that he agreed with Arthur.

The two once again lapsed into companionable silence. Francis knew Arthur had come for a reason- but he was reluctant to talk about.

"Francis..."Arthur's voice trailed off. He gazed into his cup. With a sigh, he leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs. In quiet voice, he said,"Francis, I have also heard rumors. Ones about France."

He had guessed this was Arthur's reason for the visit. Francis waited patiently for Arthur to speak again.

"Francis...these rumors, they are about a revolution. Francis, what-"

"They are more than rumors, far more than rumors," Francis interrupted. "I thought you would realize this."

Arthur made a thin, distressed noise. "Your queen, your king- are they aware? Do they understand?"

"I believe they are aware of the unrest among the population, yes. If they underestimate the power of the people, it is not my job to inform them." Francis's voice was sharp.

"Don't be an fool, Francis. Mustn't we protect our countries? Francis!" Arthur's voice rose, and his checks flushed.

"More tea, Arthur?" Francis held the teapot out.

"Yes, I believe-I believe I shall have some more tea." Arthur watched as his cup was filled, one hand rubbing at his eye tiredly.

Francis considered the blond man in front of him. He looked dead on his feet. "When do you return to England?" he questioned.

Arthur glanced out the window. "My ship leaves in three hours."

Francis sighed. "You mustn't worry about me, Arthur. I can take care of myself. We know best of all that it is best to just let things happen, isn't it?"

"Yes..."Arthur's voice was low, his eyes downcast. "Yes, but..."

Arthur broke off, gazing outside the window. Flatly, he said, "I heard what your...third estate did. National Assembly, hmm? Meeting on the tennis court?"

"They were locked out of their meeting room. Where else would you have them meet?" Francis tipped his cup, drinking the last dregs of tea. "We can not stop our people, Arthur. You should know this." Francis rested his cup on his saucer, staring at Arthur.

Arthur took a deep breath. "I believe I must return to port soon. I have things to do before I board ship again."

"Of course." Francis stood and bowed lowly to Arthur. "Allow me to see you to the door."

Arthur took his hat, adjusted his jacket and made his way to the door. Pushing it open, he whistled shortly, causing his horse to run to him, nuzzling his neck and snorting. Looping the reins over the horse's head, he turned to Francis. He gave him a long look, then reached forward and clasped Francis's hand. "Keep yourself safe." He whispered.

Francis drew away. "I will be fine." He said in response.

Arthur mounted his horse, settling himself into his saddle. Giving Francis a mournful look, he said, "Good bye, Francis.3

"Au revoir, Arthur." Francis smiled, watching as Arthur turned his horse and urged it into a gallop. Dust and dirt flew behind him as he sped down the lane. "Au revoir, indeed."

Thanks for reading!

This is my first fanfic I'm really happy with. I actually really do like it. For anyone who may not know, July 13 is the day before the storming of the Bastille.