A/N: Welcome to my first FrUK story! This starts out with England at around the age of five, or at least he looks five.
Summary: What would have happened if England didn't let his people kill Joan? what if he made an honest effort, but the outcome was the same? Can France blame him? This is a FrUK fic, rated M for future chapters, yaoi, and some language as it goes on.
"Wait come back!" I yelled, catching her wrist before she went outside.
"Jes? Vhat do you need Britain?" the sweet Joan asked kindly, stopping to flash me a smile.
I gulped, "You can't go out there Joan," I stalled, looking out the window frantically. My eyes widened in fear at the growing crowd.
She crossed her arms with a playful smile on her face, "Oh? And vye not?"
"They'll kill you," I deadpanned, my accent heavy as I spoke to the French woman.
She looked startled, "Vhat? But zey 'av no reason to!" she exclaimed, looking out the window, her green-blue eyes widening in fear. "Britain?" she asked nervously, backing away from me.
"Please you must listen to me, if you don't go to the church and cry 'Sanctuary!' then I cannot protect you. They are here to burn you because they believe you to be a witch. Your looks are the main reason why." I said, taking her forearm and dragging her with me. "We have to go out a back way, and then I can lead you to my Catholic church then, but once you are inside, you are safe. The police or people are not allowed to hurt you." I hurriedly explained, sprinting with her as we exited the mansion reserved for France whenever he came.
"Vait! But vye do zey 'sink zat I am-!" she cried, stumbling along the cobblestone streets. The church was now in view.
"Because they don't like the French and you entrance or 'enchant' the men, making them want to desert their wives and bed you. Many feel that those feelings might be the work of some spell, so they have branded you a witch, therefore they must burn you." I tried to explain, clutching my chest as my people's anger welled up within me.
We stumbled through the church doors; twin bangs rebounding throughout the building as the doors slammed behind us.
"Are you sure zat vee are safe?" Joan huffed, bending over to try to catch her breath.
"Yes, but you might want to claim sanctuary before I drag you back out there." I said, pressing myself to the wall to keep from grabbing her and dragging her out so that my people could kill her.
Her eyes widened in fright, and she pushed back her short blond locks with shaking hands. "B-Britain? Vhat are joo saying?"
"I'm saying, that if you don't claim sanctuary soon, I won't be able to stop myself from slaughtering you myself, as is the wish of my people." I deadpanned, my green eyes flashing at her with hatred as she trembled. "SAY IT! Do you WANT me to kill you?" I screamed, trembling.
She shook her head, "Sanctuary…" she whispered, and immediately I calmed. The urge to kill her was gone.
I nodded solemnly, "Good, now I will go and contact France so he can come and get you. If you leave this church, then you will no longer have the sanctuary of the church, and you will die, do you understand?"
She nodded her head numbly, "But vait, vye do joo care 'ate all?"
"Do you think I want France to kill me? If I let you die then my nation would be destroyed, which would, in turn, kill me." I said, walking out of the church to come face-to-face with a mob of my people.
"Hey little kid, did you see a French witch come running this way?" a woman in the mob asked.
I glared, my bushy eyebrows furrowing, "I'm not a kid! No I haven't, I thought she was still in that French idiot's mansion that Britain lets him use whenever he visits." I replied, edging away from the steps.
"Well then, if she was there, then she's dead now! We burned the whole thing down." A man snickered.
I froze, "You did WHAT?" I yelled, turning to face them all, my eyes burning with fury.
"We figured she would be in there, but since we didn't hear her scream we thought that she might not have been. So we've been checking around town. Hey, and so what if we burned the French bastard's 'mansion' down? It shouldn't matter to you kiddo." A different man sneered.
The people in the front of the crowd backed up a bit as I stepped forward, my face twisted with fury and hate.
"DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH TIME I PUT INTO THAT HOUSE?" I screamed, flinging out my arms, "THERE WERE BRITISH WORKERS INSIDE THAT BUILDING! HOW COULD YOU GO AND KILL THEM ALL? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH OF THE CROWN'S MONEY WENT INTO CONSTRUCTING THAT? IT WAS EVEN THE KING'S SUMMERHOME!" I roared, my short hair lifting slightly with my rage.
The people screamed in fear and a few ran, but one man yelled in a hoarse voice; "HE'S A WITCH TOO!" that stopped everybody in their tracks.
My eyes widened as a few men came running up the steps towards me. I screamed and turned, opening the doors and slamming them behind me.
Joan looked up startled from a pew she had been lounging in. "Vhat eez it Britain?" she asked, kneeling beside me, "Vye do joo look so scared?"
"They think I'm a witch! Although considering what I do on the weekends- that's not the point! Now we can't contact France, we're trapped in here until he comes to find us…" I said, hanging my head.
Joan looked concerned, "But vhat are vee going to do for food? I do not 'sink zat dere eez enough for ze both of us." She said, looking at a pantry in the corner.
I shrugged off her hands, "Don't worry about that, since I'm a nation I don't need to eat, it'll give my country a famine for a month or so, but the dirty bastards deserve it this time." I said sourly, crossing my arms and sitting down in a pew. "I only hope they don't try to burn down this church. Then we'd really be screwed." I said, looking away from Joan's now fearful look.
"Oh my beloved France, pleez, you must come for us…" she whispered, picking me up and cradling my small form in her arms.
"Hey!" I grumbled, protesting at being treated like a kid.
She smiled, "Even if you are 'sousands of years older zan me, you look about five." She chuckled, dodging as I swung at her.
"Fine," I huffed, settling down in her lap, quickly falling asleep.
I woke up with the smell of burning in my nostrils; smoke making me cough. "Joan?" I asked blearily, prying open my sleepy eyes.
I sat straight up when I saw that the church was burning and that Joan had collapsed and was struggling to breathe.
"No!" I cried, picking up the heavy woman despite my size. I ran out of the church, running through the crowd that was screaming and throwing more torches.
'We have to go to a bigger church, one they won't burn down…' I thought as I dragged the unconscious woman down the streets. 'Damnit, at this pace we won't ever get there in time, I guess it's time to run.'
I took a deep breath, "Here goes nothing," I felt the power of my nation swell within me, and I scooped up Joan, and took a step forward, the city disappearing as I ran faster than the wind towards London.
FRANCE'S P.O.V.
"Le Anglterre! I am looking for-!" I froze upon coming over the crest of the hill, staring in horror at the sight before me. Instead of the beautiful mansion Anglterre had built for me was no more than ashes.
My instant thought was of Joan; surely he hadn't let her die… right?
I dropped my bags and ran back to the ship, shouting orders in rapid French. "Prêt les voiles! Nous devons partir tout de suite!"
Many of the sailors looked up in surprise, the captain ran up to me, "Qu'est-ce qui est incorrect? Pourquoi devons-nous partir si bientôt?"
I looked at him desperately, "Joan est partie! Le manoir est incendié et je dois trouver Anglterre!" I yelled frantically, running back to grab my bags and dropping them back on deck, "Nous devons partir maintenant ou bien je ne paierai aucun d'entre vous!"
The captain nodded, and began barking orders again, yelling at the crew to get back to work, and if they didn't, they wouldn't get paid a cent.
I didn't relax, but stood looking out at the water.
"De la curiosité, où allons-nous exactement?" the captain asked, coming up behind me.
"À Londres mon ami." I replied, looking out at the ocean again, ignoring everyone else as the captain began to bark orders again.
(A/N: Lots and lots of French! Translation:
"Raise sails! We must leave right away!"
"What is wrong? Why must we leave so soon?"
"Joan is gone! The manor is burned down and I must find Anglterre!" "We must leave now or I shall pay none of you!"
"Out of curiosity, where exactly are we going?"
"Ah, to London my friend.")
NORMAL P.O.V.
"Crap!" I yelled, nearly running into another cart on the busy street. Joan still hadn't woken up yet, and it was getting harder to carry her without too many people noticing. "Where the hell is-? Ah! Yes, finally that damned church!" I yelled to myself, running quickly up the steps and flinging the doors open, half running down the aisle to the altar.
"Young sir? May I help you? Is your mother alright?" a priest asked me kindly.
I was about to reply with an angry retort, but didn't, seeing as the man didn't mean it like that. "Yes please sir, our house burned down and my mother is very ill. She inhaled too much smoke I think…" I said, my green eyes burning into his own dull brown ones.
"That's horrible, I will see what our physicians can do for her. What is your name boy?" he asked, leading us to a different room in the halls of Notre-dam.
"Uhh," 'Crap… I didn't think of that!' "My name is… Arthur." I said, thinking of the first King of Britain.
The priest smiled, "Wonderful, and might I be so bold as to ask where your father is?" he asked.
I bowed my head, as if remembering something sad, "My father died in the fire…" I said sadly, lying my ass off to the priest.
"Oh bless you child, for taking care of your mother by yourself. Do you have any relatives?"
"Yes, but he's away visiting France, he was coming back soon though." I lied again, the words sounding false to my own ears.
"Is that so? We can send a message to the ports to look out for him then. Ah here we are, excuse me but we have an injured woman that inhaled quite a bit of smoke and-" the priest was interrupted when a woman that was sitting there stood up.
"Britain! What are you doing here?" the woman cried, rushing over to me, "Who is this? Why are you so filthy?" it was one of the king's daughter's, Elizabeth.
"In the town where France's mansion was, the people began to get angry. They believed that the woman staying there, Joan another one of France's many lovers, was a witch, so they tried to kill her, they burned down the house, and then the church that we had sought sanctuary in. Joan hasn't woken up since and I'm afraid…" I said quietly, my small form trembling from exhaustion.
Elizabeth looked shocked, "You've carried her all the way from Blyth?" she cried, hugging me close.
When she pulled back I smiled, "I'm a nation remember? I don't need to eat or sleep. I'm worried about Joan though, will she be alright?"
A physician came up and put her on a cot, checking her over. He grimaced when he felt her pulse and turned back to us, "She's very weak, and might not last very long, but she'll live at least until the end of next week."
"No!" I yelled, clutching at my clothes. "This can't be happening! If France finds her dead then he'll blame it on me! it would lead to war!" I cried, my eyes wide and afraid.
FRANCE'S P.O.V.
"Nous sommes proches?" I asked warily, gazing at the horizon, straining my eyes to try to see land.
"Non mais nous ne serons à Londres dans quelques jours. Soyez patients." The captain replied, putting his hand on my shoulder in sympathy.
"Je suis inquiété de Joan, je sais que l'Ange n'est pas ... stupide, mais toujours..." I sighed, looking at the floorboards. "Combien de temps jusqu'à ce que nous atteignons vraiment Londres?" I asked, looking at the bearded man. I bit my lip when her didn't respond.
"Mmm… Trois jours au moins Monsieur." He replied, smiling.
(A/N: okay, that was a lot of French, so I'm going to translate:
"Are we almost there?"
"No, but we shall be in London in a few days. Be patient."
"I am worried about Joan, I know that the Angel is not stupid, but still..."
"How long until we really reach London?"
"Mmm… three days at least Sir."
Sorry if that was confusing!)
NORMAL P.O.V.
"I'm sorry sir, I shouldn't have lied to you, but not many people like nations. I didn't want to find out the hard way if you didn't." I apologized again to the priest I had first met when I got here.
"Lying is never the will of God." He mumbled, standing up from a chair and walking off to continue his duties.
Elizabeth giggled behind me, "What did you tell him?"
I sighed, "He assumed Joan was my mother, and I told him that our house had burned down, which actually wasn't a lie. Also he wanted to know where my dad was, and I told him he had died in the fire, he even asked my name, so I had to give him a false one." I told her, glaring as she began to laugh.
"Oh my, and what did you tell him your name was?"
"Arthur," I replied coldly, sitting over by Joan's head.
Elizabeth sobered up, "You mean like the first king? But isn't it illegal to name anyone outside of the royal family Arthur? Anyone who names their kid that is put to death, and their kid is sold as a slave." She said, confused.
"Well either he didn't know, or didn't want to do that to a sweet kid like me." I chuckled darkly, gazing out the window.
"Do you want me to send for France? We can't really do anything since she's dying, but he can't call war on us for the doings of one village, hopefully Father will allow France to only slaughter that village if it's that or war." Elizabeth asked, standing up and heading towards the door.
"Indeed, but I shall feel it nonetheless. It's for the good of the country so I can bear it. Go ahead and see if you can't contact him, he's bound to have found the ashes by now, so he's most likely sailing here. To tell him exactly where we are will make things a lot less complicated." I ordered, grabbing Joan's hand as she began to twitch and moan.
Elizabeth hesitated, but I waved her on, "Go ahead, I'll be fine."
"France…" Joan moaned, sweating through her filthy gown. "Je brûle! La France aidez-moi s'il vous plaît! j'ai besoin de vous le chéri!" she cried out softly, clutching my hand.
I frowned, wishing I had taken France up on his offer to teach me French.
"AIDEZ-MOI LA FRANCE! "Je je" ne peux pas..." She screamed, coughing violently when she had relaxed. She pulled me to her chest and clutched me like one would cling to a doll or frightened child. Joan coughed again, and blood spattered the linen sheets.
I wrinkled my nose and tried to wriggle out of her grasp so I could get someone to clean her, but she held tight, murmuring nonsense in French.
"France you had better get here fast…"
A/N: Sorry if anyone was confused with the French that i threw in there. And if i used anything inproperly, then sorry. Also I got the translations off a website, and when i went back to check that it was correct, i was angry to find that most of the time it's different, so stick with what i say it says, 'cause that's what it's supposed to say... Lol, anyway REVIEW!
The first person to review, the next chapter is dedicated to you!
NOTE: I shall not continue/update this story until i get at least 3 reviews.
REVIEW OR I SHALL COME TO YOUR HOUSE AND BREAK YOUR SINK!
REVIEW!
I
V