The Things You Do To Me
A strange girl with dark green eyes and awful scars meets a handsome boy with blonde hair and no idea of suffering. Neither of them know what will come from this collision of two entirely different worlds. Auld Alliance fic.
Hello everyone! This is is the story I chose, but only because it had to be told. Here, we get to see what France and Scotland were to each other, and how the Auld Alliance was formed. Yes, there will be het, and a threesome (you'll see who), so it is rated M, but also for Brittania's abuse of Scotland and the general battle violence. Thank you everyone, especially chattie98, who was my first fan and my loyal supporter.
listening Recommendation for fic: Monster by Paramore, preferably Alex G cover, or Turning Tables by Adele
Listening Recommendation for chapter: You Found Me by the Fray
France walked amiably through the woods, whistling as he did. His light silk clothes billowed lightly with the breeze. The trees formed a sort of roof, dappling him with shadows and patches of light.
This would be fun to paint, he mused, perching himself on a moss-covered boulder. He scrambled up, taking in the view. He could see everything, from where the forest ended to the sloping golden wheat fields. This had to be his favorite place in the whole world, with no boring meetings or stuffy old people. France had been forced to start going to council meetings, especially since his mother had died so recently. The thought of her set off a familiar ache deep in his chest. His blond hair blew in the wind, rippling it and showing off it's golden sheen. He cocked his head curiously. What was that? Definitely not a bird call, that was for sure. It sounded almost..human.
Scotland's face was the same color as her hair. Her face burned with agony, but she kept walking, using trees to support herself. She could still feel the sickening scrape of bone on bone. The blood dripping along all parts of her left a definite trail in the grass, but she wasn't too worried. Her mother had told her to get out and never come back, so she obviously didn't want her anymore. Unless...
Oh Lord. She's following me so she can get rid of me! She going to have the dogs, she knows I hate them...
Her hands shook, her knees lead. She slumped against the tree, quaking and breathing heavily. She was going to die here, among the brambles and the moss. At least it was comfy. Sobs racked her body. Against every instinct and impulse she had, conscious and subconscious alike, she began to cry.
Francis hopped down from his sunny rock, in search of the strange call. His eyes were wandering along the forest floor when-
'Mon dieu, is that blood?"
It was splattered along the trail, and smeared along several trees. France gulped. He hated blood. But someone-or something- must be at the end of that trail. What if they needed help? And if they were dead...
"Well, that'll be something to tell Gilbert and Antonio," he assured himself, following the gory trail into the woods.
He walked along the trail, when he heard the noise again. France whirled around, trying to pinpoint its source. As he walked in the general direction, he heard a voice. He again looked around wildly for the owner.
"Well, don't step on me."
He blinked. Was that mound of brambles talking to him? He blinked again. It wasn't a bramble bush at all, but a person covered in brambles.
"Hello..I'm France."
The brambles shifted to reveal a girl with dark hair and striking green eyes- or eye. One was sealed closed under an awful clawmark that was bleeding all over the place.
"I'm Scotland. pleased to meet you."
She tried to stand up, but buckled and grabbed a tree for support.
"Oh my God..Look at your eye.."
"Got a mirror?"
France was confounded. This girl was bleeding to death in the middle of the forest, and she was trying to be funny?
"You need help.."
Scotland's eyes widened. She shook her head frantically, then coughed, choking up blood.
"Stay right here! I'll get someone..."
His voice trailed off as he dashed away.
"I'm not going anywhere...Except maybe hell..."