May 30, 1431
Boots stomped up to a post. A young girl was bound to it by thick ropes. She made no move to try and untie herself. The only sign that she was still alive was a slight shift in her weight for her to become slightly more comfortable.
A man stopped before her. His green eyes flicked to her face. He laid a hand on her cheek, giving her a cruel smile.
"Hello Jeanne," The Englishmen smiled. "Are you ready for this wonderful day?"
Jeanne felt a bit of a sting in his words. 'The bastard thinks it's wonderful that I'm going to die,' she thought. 'Well so be it. What he and his guards put me through was hell enough. Death seems wonderful.'
She gave a little nod of her head. The man's smile flicked downwards. There goes the satisfaction of seeing her loose her dignity. "Any last requests?"
This time she would have to speak. "Three actually," Her voice rang through the crowd. "The flower in my hair. Please return that to Francis. I want a cross in front of me. I'm dying for something unjust I deserve to have the Lord's symbol in front of me. Oh and Arthur since you'll be the one giving Francis the flower, tell him that we'll meet again someday soon. Don't make him feel threatened by that."
Arthur nodded his head. A cross was promptly placed in front of her by some peasants. Grudgingly, Arthur removed the flower from her hair. He placed it in his pocket. Who was he to deny a dying woman's last wish?
He turned his head towards the executors. Giving them a flick of his hand, they placed the burning logs on Jeanne's post. The flames surrounded her body and filled the area with thick smoke. Arthur watched in grim satisfaction.
There was one thing that troubled him though. Her look. She looked so brave. It was almost sickening to him. She also kept her composure. Never in the Englishmen's years of doing this, had someone looked so ready to die.
…
A Frenchmen approached Arthur. His feet dragged across the Earth, scuttling rocks and sand.
"England," He whispered. "What the hell have you done? Why kill an innocent woman? Have you no heart?"
England turned to face his unwanted company. "Hello France," He spat. "I guess you've come for your trash. Well here you have it. Marvelous isn't it? How much more powerful we are then you."
France held his tongue. He had come here for a specific reason and he knew what it was. If they had to fight for it than so be it.
"Seeing by how you're not going I guess you want something. Well then. She wanted me to tell you - damn I sound like the gossiping old ladies - that 'You'll meet again someday soon.' Sounds like a lot of rubbish to me, but who am I to pick from the dead. Oh I almost forgot!"
England gave France the flower. Tears welled in his blue eyes. The only thing he had left of her. His only physical memory of her. "Ashes," He stated. "Give me her ashes you monster."
The other man laughed. "Take them!" He snickered. "Take the cross that watched her burning. Take the logs that caused her death. Please be my guest if you want to clean this up. I'd love it if you could take your French trash."
With that he walked away leaving France glaring at him. He was so close to hitting him. So close, but yet he couldn't. Not in front of Jeanne's grave.
…
Present day
England jumped up in his bed. His whole body was covered in a cold sweat.
"That dream," He mumbled. "I wish I could take it back. I can't even look France in the eye."
He got up from where he was sitting. He needed to get out. Just walk. Get some air into his head.
He threw on some pants and a jacket. He knew where he had to go. There was only one place in mind that would give him rest.
…
England finally reached it. After going about two hours on foot from his and his brothers' home he had made it. The exact spot where she was burned.
He fell to his knees in tears. 'I'm sorry for killing the women you love France. I'm sorry I took such a young girls life. Jeanne I'm sorry for killing you. I wish. Oh I wish I could tell you in person, turn back the clocks for you to have lived and die of natural causes. I was a horrible man back then. I was blinded by my own hate and wanting victory so badly. Please forgive me. Please.'
A light shone in front of the kneeling man. He looked up. All the air escaped his body. What he saw was insane. Jeanne. She was here. In front of him. And he was undeniably scared.
"Hello Arthur," She smiled. "It's been a long time. You haven't been here since the sixteen hundreds. I'm glad I've been successful in haunting you with that dream. I knew you'd admit feeling guilt consciously some day. I'm glad I get to witness it. Now than, I forgive you. But too make it up to me can you do me one tiny favor?"
"Y-yes. Anything within reason?"
Jeanne laughed. "Of course! I'm not going to have you do something insane like try to destroy a whole country. Tell Francis in a note. There is a girl vacationing in Paris. She looks just like me. And it is. Go get her. She'll love you just as much as I did."
England got up. "I'll be right on it. I'll give it to him in the meeting tomorrow. Thank you Jeanne. I'm glad you've returned. France - I mean Francis would like to hear that very much."
Jeanne smiled. She faded away slowly. The darkness returned swallowing up the little area. He began walking home. He better start on that note. France would need to see it as soon as possible.