Her words echoed around through Francis's head even now as he tried to sleep.
"I will always be there to protect you."
May be the words seemed cliche at first though Francis knew truly how deep they went and what they really meant for them.
His love who had fought and died for him would continue to smile down on him from Heaven, and she'd continue to protect and nourish him in a way completely beyond the human that she used to be and beyond the nation that he, himself, was.
France would always miss and love her in return as he'd given the remains of his heart so devoted to his own country in many ways and to every individual citizen to her, his Jeanne D'Arc.
He loved her more than any nation had the right to love their own citizen; he loved her more like a loyal and faithful husband would his wife, unable to move on if she were to leave in anyway, and if he managed to, a large part of his heart would still rest off of that love.
If he ever moved on like how she wanted him to as she did not want his eternity to be lonely after her passing which she'd insisted on no matter how long they actually had, he knew that surely she could tell that regardless of how many loves he had, she'd always be in his heart as well; she was there forever.
He could keep living on and may be his next soulmate as he is a country with many generations of life having lived through and would live through would be found among his neighboring countries or perhaps another human; such a chunk of his heart however would remain in his first true love, Jeanne's, hand.
Francis knew that if he ever attempted to move on like how his once and always will be beloved citizen wanted him to, then he'd still have a part of his heart in his precious Jeanne's heart.
It is possible for him especially as a country to have multiple soulmates though they never seemed to be at once and countries' lives changed in instants, shaping futures of nations and humans alike.
Francis knew that he could love again just as strongly yet he also knew that he could never replace her, his Joan Of Ark.
His eyes fluttered closed, and he fell in to a dream about a beautiful, blond haired woman who defied normalcy and rose above it all in her strength and her devotion to her own country that would extend upon itself in to romantic love for the personification of such a country; she was his strength, his protection, his love, and so much more that words could never define yet she remained as chaste physically as the baby that she'd been born as despite the occasional kiss taken from her lips.