Translations at bottom (:
A small toddler sat huddled under a tree late at night. He wore tunic that was covered in dirt smears, and a green cloak that was far too big for him. The child's forest green eyes were shut tight as he tried to contain his shivers.
It was a bit uncomfortable trying to sleep on a night as cold as this, but the child tried his best to make due with the twigs and leaves surrounding him. After all, he was Arthur Kirkland, the country of England. Something as stupid as the cold could not kill him.
His big brothers had their own house not far from here, filled with warm beds and a hot fire. His brothers hated him though, for a reason that the tot could not fathom. He never remembered doing anything to them.
Just a little while earlier they had been cooking delicious rabbit meat out back of their home. England usually avoided his brothers and survived off of berries and wild plants, but never had he smelled something so good as that rabbit.
Of course since he was just hardly older than a baby, England had naturally been attracted to the smell of freshly cooking meat. He'd toddled over to where his brothers were eating, trying to eat some of the rabbit. The horrible thing was that he had forgotten just how much his brothers seemed to love and torment him.
Needless to say, he was driven away by hard rocks and clumps of dirt thrown at him. So here he was now, trying his best to stay warm and comfortable with a grumbling belly. As anyone could imagine, that was pretty hard for such a small child to do.
During the summer time he could be quite content, always warm and having his fairy friends to play with. On such nights as cold as these the fairies stayed huddled in their small homes of nature, so for now England was alone.
Each passing moment was becoming harder for Arthur to bear. He bit his lip to contain whimpers, and pulled his cloak more firmly around himself, being sure to cover his tiny dirt covered feet. When a lone wolf let out a piercing howl in the distance, he could no longer contain his fear and hurt.
He let out a pitiful cry, burying his face into his hands and sobbing loudly. In the back of his mind he vaguely hoped that his older brothers would not hear or else they would come to taunt him more. Suddenly he heard the snapping of twigs from a few feet away. Oh no, it must have been his brothers!
"Pauvre bébé, ce qui ne va l'Angleterre? Etes-vous blessé?" A soft voice said, in a language that Arthur did not recignize. The only thought that registered in his mind was that the figure who now stood only a few feet away was not one of his older brothers.
Looking closer he recognized the stranger's identity. It was Francis Bonnefoy, the country of France. Arthur hadn't really talked to the other before, even though France had attempted to talk to him on more than one occasion.
He was from across the channel. Why the French teen was living here for the time being, Arthur didn't have a clue. Francis seemed to realize that the toddler would not be able to understand his language.
"What's the matter Angletere?" He asked, switching to Arthur's language.
The small child's sobs has ceased into little hiccups. He used his hand to wipe his face from the tears, blinking up at France with wariness. France seemed to sense this and smiled, gently crouching down in front of the shivering infant.
England only scooted back. Francis was almost as old as his big brothers were, so he probably would act like them too; a brutal bully. Much to England's surprise though, he suddenly felt himself being lifted into the air before being settled into two strong arms.
Francis began to walk away while carrying the shocked child. Arthur had never really been held in a comforting way before. The only times his brothers ever did were when they wanted to throw him, to stick him in a tall tree so he wouldn't be able to get down.
Now his face was pressed against Francis's shoulder, and his arms were against his chest. Francis began to chatter to him softly in french. Although he couldn't understand the words, they still comforted him. It didn't take long for the gentle pattern of France's footsteps and his soothing voice to lull England into sleep.
He was awaken by the feeling of very warm air. Opening his tired eyes, England blinked alarm. He was no longer outside, but being carried into a very warm house that was brightly lit. The events of earlier came back to him, and England assumed that this must have been France's house.
It was indeed, and the French nation was humming happily to himself as he shifted Arthur into one arm while using the other to take off his blue cloak. He then sat England in the wooden table that was in the middle of the room and took off the child's green cloak. He frowned at the dirt infested tunic that Arthur wore.
"You need new clothes, don't you petit lapin?" He said. England didn't respond. He hadn't said one word since France had found him like this so far, but France was still patient.
"Are you hungry?" France asked. England didn't say anything, but the sudden loud grumbling of his tummy made the answer clear to France, who laughed and set England down in a chair.
It wasn't too long before a plate of steaming potatoes and chicken was set before the wide eyed child. England had never really had meat, since he was too little to hunt and his brothers never gave him any. He didn't hesitate to gobble it up fast, being sure to eat every last piece.
France had been sitting across from him, watching to toddler eat with a sad smile. He knew how England's brothers treated him, and he could never understand how anyone could be so mean to such an adorable child.
"More?" England finally spoke. He wanted to make the best of this free meal by consuming all he could.
"Of course mon petit lapin! I have plenty." France replied, joyful at the fact that England had finally spoken.
He got England a second helping, and once again England began shoveling the delicious food into his mouth. France had also gotten him a cup of nice cold water, so he downed that too. Soon his movements began getting slower, and England sat back in his seat with a sigh.
France took this as a sign that he was done and started clearing the plates away. He felt England's eyes on him as he moved throughout the kitchen, and offered the toddler a kind smile. Arthur didn't return it, only staring at France without much expression.
Finally everything was cleaned up, and once again England was lifted into France's arms. At first England thought that France was going to make him go back outside, but was proven wrong when he felt himself being carried to another room.
England gasped in shock when France pulled his dirty clothes off, picking up the butt naked toddler and setting him into a wooden tub. England didn't understand what was going on at first, because normally he would just bathe in the river.
Soon France was pouring buckets of warm water into the wooden tub, and England sighed in content. The water was just the perfect temperature! France grinned when he saw the little nation smiling, and began scrubbing his arms, chest, and back with some soap.
England's nose itched from the smell of the soap, he didn't like it too much. At first he tried to move away from the offending hands scrubbing him free of dirt. When he saw the bubbles from the soap begin to form in the water though, he instantly changed his mind, using his hand to pat at the bubbles.
The rest of his bath went well, except for when his feet had to be cleaned. He didn't like that at all, or when France dunked his head into the soapy water in order to clean his hair. It was over soon though, and he was dried and dressed in a new tunic. It was colored sky blue, and was much too big for him. The sleeve's fell way past Arthur's hands, and it looked more like an over sized gown.
For the third time that night, England was once again lifted into France's arms. This time he was brought into a dimly lit room. There was a large and fluffy bed in the middle of it. England usually slept on the ground or on a pile of leaves, so it was a little strange when he was tucked into the big bed, many blankets covering him. France then crawled into the bed next to him after changing into his own night clothes.
"Good night Angleterre" He whispered, blowing out the candle that had been the room's light source.
"Why are you doing this?" England whispered back, clutching the blankets tightly.
"Because I'm going to take care of you from now on. Your my friend now." Francis replied happily, wrapping his arms around the tot and pulling him against his chest. England wasn't used to being cuddled, but the feeling was nice so he slowly let himself relax.
It didn't take long for England to fall into a peaceful sleep with a smile on his face. Perhaps having a new friend wouldn't be so bad.
Translations:
Pauvre bébé, ce qui ne va l'Angleterre? Etes-vous blessé?: Poor baby, what's wrong with England? Are you hurt?
Mon petit lapin: Little rabbit
A/n: I know I already have a little England fic going on, but I couldn't resist a one shot. In this fic I imagined Arthur as really little, perhaps two or just barely three. I also love France and England's relationship when they were younger. Big Brother France just makes me want to squeal and have a fan girl moment. Lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this.
Please review, and you'll be my bff! :D