A/N: this story contains gratuitous French (and if there are any errors in it, i apologize; i'm only in my second year), so i'm uploading two versions of it. this chapter is how i wrote it originally, with translation notes at the end for those who have some knowledge of the language and/or those who don't mind waiting until the end to find out what stuff means. the next chapter will be the same story, but the translations for the French will be in parentheses next to the dialogue, so that you can read along with full comprehension if you don't want to scroll down to the translation notes every time you see a phrase or word that you don't know. enjoy!
She glared with half her heart at the ground underneath her hanging legs. Occasionally, she gave a futile kick and rocked the chains with her hands, but it didn't do more than make the swing twist and wobble.
"Promène-toi!" growled the brunette as she rattled the chains again in frustration. Her lower lip tensed and quivered in a pout even as her eyes glared.
The child sniffed and stared dejectedly down at the hem of her white shift, fluttering gently around her ankles in the slight breeze. She pointed her feet and gave an experimental wiggle of her toes, but still she could not touch the ground. Where was Papa France when she needed him?
The sound of sand crunching behind her made her turn - or, well, try to. The force of the turn made the swing wiggle a little and she could see a figure from her peripheral, but soon it spun back into place and the person went out of view again.
She futilely went to try and turn again, but her attempts were stopped by a hand gripping one of the chains tightly. The island puffed out her cheeks and tilted her head back to glare up at whoever it was.
"Qui es-tu?" demanded the girl. The person let go of the chain and circled around to her front so that his face was no longer shadowed from her point of view.
Before he even answered, her eyes went wide and she cried "Sourcils!" One of said impressive facial features seemed to twitch in irritation, and she blinked a couple times before giggling. "Les sourcils, les sourcils~" singsonged the girl.
The annoyed tick did not go away even as the blond man took a gander at their surroundings. She heard him mumble something, "bloody stupid frog, leaving a child alone", but her attention was still wholly on his face. When he turned back, the colony bluntly kept up her stare, and adjusted her gaze accordingly when he crouched so that he was eye-level with her.
"You're here by yourself?" he questioned in an odd accent. The pigtailed girl nodded.
"Pousse-moi!" was her verbal response, beaming brightly up at him.
He grimaced a little and broke eye contact with the African colony, again grumbling something about a frog. When he turned back, he uncertainly sputtered out, "Parlez-vous l'anglais?"
The younger blinked wide eyes at him. His pronunciation was absolutely horrible. "Your French stinks!" she proclaimed with a smile. His grimace became a full-on frown.
"France needs to teach you some manners, the da-" He paused, furrowing considerable eyebrows before averting his eyes. "…stupid lech."
She tilted her head at the hitch in the middle of his word, but soon she was grinning again, kicking her feet excitedly. "Push me!"
He neatly ignored the demand. "What's your name?"
She ignored him just as easily. "Push me, push me~"
His countenance was unimpressed. France had no idea how to properly raise a colony. The Kingdom took in her grinning face for a few moments preceding a relenting sigh. "…I'll push you if you tell me your name."
The child turned those bright amber eyes up to full force. "I'm Séchelles." A victorious smile. "Push, push~"
He stood from his crouch and brushed out the creases in his neatly-tailored pants. She was content with staring at the sand in anticipation, her face keen to split right in half from the force of her grin. His voice from behind her came as a surprise; "Stop kicking or you'll go crooked."
The young territory did as he said. She soon felt warm hands on her back, and before she knew it, she was being gently pressured forward. Action-reaction, and the swing went back an equal amount; another push and she went farther forward, starting an upwards incline. Back, just like a pendulum, and he gave her one more push.
Her fingers curled about the creaking links of the chains and Séchelles let out a gleeful giggle. She did her best to keep her swing going, but lack of technique eventually slowed her down until the motion had tapered to a slight rocking.
"Push, push!" The command left the petite colony's lips again, but she felt no hands this time. Curious, Séchelles leaned back, her bright red hair bows falling over her ears as she angled herself upside-down to look up at her visitor.
"If you kick, the swing will keep going," he informed her. "And you can start by yourself."
The inexperienced child pouted fiercely at this. "You said no kick!"
"No, not like…" The pale man gave a half-frown and a sigh of resignation. "Here."
Séchelles readjusted herself so that she was upright again, and when the sound of chains rattling reached her ears, she peered over at the neighboring swing, where the well-dressed man was now sitting. She couldn't stop herself from giggling, and the laughter hit a crescendo when she saw his pasty cheeks redden at the reaction.
He waited until the island collective settled down and the flush had mostly retreated until he spoke again. "Like this." Slowly he straightened both legs, and then quickly pulled them back together, bending his knees as he did so. Then he pushed them out straight again, and Séchelles saw his swing start to move. As he repeated the push-pull motion, his swing went out higher and higher; the girl marveled at the results for a while before even attempting to do it herself.
The brunette gingerly extended her legs, pointing her toes before pulling them back sharply like her older companion had. Immediately she kicked them out again, and withdrew - and her seat started to swing.
Laughing giddily, Séchelles continued until she was swinging right along with the elder island, until she was going so high she felt like she might fly off into the pristine white clouds. She swung for what felt like ever; when her legs started to ache and the chain links began to pinch her fingers, the French colony stopped kicking, letting her feet dangle until she eventually returned back to the slight rock of a recently-used swing.
The bushy-browed man skidded to a halt when she was simply hovering once more. "Like that," he said, keeping his gaze abashedly away from Séchelles. "Now you won't need someone to push you."
In her jubilance, Séchelles momentarily lost her control of the English tongue. "Merci, les sourcils!" She hopped off the swing, scattering sand around her heels, and shuffled over to where the man was still seated on the other swing to give him an awkward hug around his midsection.
He sputtered a little and she thought she heard something about "French personal space", but after a small while of persistent embracing, he gave her an appeasing pat on the head. Satisfied, Séchelles released him with a broad smile. "What's your name, mister?"
The former Empire looked down at her and she noticed his eyes were a very pretty shade of green, and his eyebrows didn't look mean like they had when he had first showed up. "England," he answered. After a pause, though, he looked away again and his cheeks pinked slightly. "…Angleterre."
The island's eyes widened reverently. "Angleterre?" she parroted, setting her hands on his knees.
England nodded with uncertainty. Had France been telling her things about him? He hardly wanted to scare the girl.
"Le Capitaine Kirkland?" prompted Séchelles with curiosity, to surprise from her companion. Well, he supposed there were worse things that the Frenchman could have told her.
"Yes," confirmed the Kingdom. Séchelles knitted her eyebrows together in confusion and used one hand to point up at his head with the other still planted on one of his knees.
"Where's your hat?" queried the African country with a small frown. It was his turn to blink at her, now, and he couldn't squash the small smile that fought its way to the surface.
"If you work on your manners," he began, "I'll bring it some time, to show you."
"Angleterre!"
The child turned to look at the approaching familiar figure. "Papa!" cried the girl, stumbling over herself in her haste to go and hug the other nation. He chuckled and caught her under the arms, lifting her up and spinning her with ease before settling her against his chest with one arm. England's face soured again and he quickly stood to put some distance between himself and the swingset, his eyes on the display of the other European nation and his charge.
"Now, now, ma cherie, what has Angleterre been telling you? He did not give you any food, did he?" France inquired of his colony, who shook her head.
"Non! He taught me swinging!" she insisted with a purposeful point towards the piece of playground equipment.
France's eyebrows went up in considerable surprise and his attention was turned on England. "Is this true, mon ami?"
England bristled and crossed his arms. "You need to teach that girl etiquette," stated the British isle tersely, clumsily sidestepping the question.
A knowing grin took France's face and he brought his other arm up to adjust Séchelles' bangs. "Ah, so Alfred is not the only child you have a soft spot for! Apologies, mon cheri, but this one is mine."
The once-Empire narrowed his eyes indignantly as France began to coo to a laughing Séchelles in his language. We'll see. "Now that she has someone to watch her, I'll be going," announced the Briton bitterly.
This caught the tanned colony's attention and she pulled away from her giggling at France to wave a small hand at him. "Au revoir, le Capitaine Sourcils!"
He granted her a nod before departing; he made sure he was well out of sight of France before he let himself smile.
Translation notes: "Promène-toi!" - literally, "go take a walk". however, also slang for "go take a walk in traffic", which is how Seychelles uses it in this context as a sign of annoyance.
"Qui es-tu?" - "Who are you?" however, it should be noted that this is the informal way to ask, and addressing an elder like this would be considered rude by most. the polite way to ask the same would be "Qui êtes-vous?"
"(Les) sourcils" - eyebrows.
"Pousse-moi!" - "Push me!"
"Parlez-vous l'anglais?" - "Do you speak English?"
Séchelles - the original French spelling of "Seychelles". Seychelles did not have the spelling it does today until it fell under British rule.
"Merci" - thank you.
"Angleterre" - the French name for England.
"Le Capitaine Kirkland" - (The) Captain Kirkland.
"mon/ma cheri(e)" - "my darling", masculine and feminine forms.
"mon ami" - "my friend", masculine form.
"Au revoir, le Capitaine Sourcils!" - "Good bye, Captain Eyebrows!"
A/N: so um i am a little unsure of my timeline for this; this is fairly soon after France acquired Seychelles in 1756, but before the Revolutionary War in 1776. i don't know why i am worrying since this kind of strays from canon, i would think, but i don't know how Britain's acquisition of Seychelles will be handled in the main storyline (as in, not Gakuen-verse), so um, idk. obviously France referring to America as a "child" at this point is just in comparison to him and England - America would obviously be a teenager when this is occurring.
...long notes are long. well, i felt like writing some fluff and this popped into my head, so...yeah. uh, hope you enjoyed! c: