Title: Royal Light
Author: musiclover3
A/N: First of all, this is a sequel to my one-shot Painting Smiles, so it's probably better if you read that story first before reading this one so as to get background on everything that occurs. Second of all, I never actually ever had the thought of making a sequel to that story, mainly because I liked the bittersweet ending to it, and was quite content to leave it at that. However, because of a request to make this sequel, and the fact that said person who requested this has read the first story about a million times, I felt that she deserved to get a sequel to it.
Just a warning to all of you who have already read Painting Smiles: This sequel is probably not at all how you expected it to be. My apologies in advance.
Ratings/Warnings: T for Romance. And errors. There are probably a bunch of errors in here. Profuse apologies in advance; I went over this a dozen times, but probably still missed something. I'll find the errors left eventually.
Dedication: To Alice, for loving Painting Smiles as much as you do.
Playlist: A Thousand Years and Arms by Christina Perri. I love both of those songs, and I think they fit somehow with this story.
Summary: Monaco is royalty, France is love, Italy is light, and Seychelles is the heart.
None of them can live without the others.
Monaco had never been like the other female countries.
Unlike most- if not all- of the female countries, she had always been quite calm and prideful, a reserved sort of air around her. Although she often spoke like an old woman, she had always been quite intelligent nonetheless, somehow giving off a stylish impression; probably due to the fact that she had always been extremely close to France, much to everyone's surprise. She contrasted greatly in personality compared to the older nation; while he often had a very languid and charming feel to him, she had always been mostly quiet and reclusive, choosing to do the opposite of her 'older brother' and spend most of her time trapped in her own country, usually closing herself off all day in one of her libraries.
That wasn't to say that she wasn't attractive. In actuality, she was actually quite pretty, having a sort of royal air about her, with her shining blonde hair worn in a long side braid and her round face accented with eyes as blue as the most precious of jewels. Even with her business-like pink coat and her stern face covered by a pair of square glasses, she clearly resembled some kind of princess, or an archduchess.
She was anything but, really.
She wasn't anywhere near anti-social, but she preferred not to speak to any of the other nations unless they approached her first, which happened quite rarely, as little as she cared to admit that fact. She was quite beautiful and intelligent, but she didn't care to talk much, causing most of the male countries to skip over her and go to a more lively female country, such as Hungary or Taiwan.
She couldn't say that she minded much, however. Although she did not hate any of the other countries, she preferred to keep her group of companions to a minimum, choosing a somewhat quieter lifestyle.
That wasn't to say the little companions she had were anything like herself.
She and France had always had a close relationship with each other since the seventeenth century. They had gotten into several spats here and there between the years, of course, but they had already learned early on that they needed to rely on each other, and so they had, up unto the present day.
They were almost like family, really, and they resembled each other in looks quite a bit, with their similar features and stylish appearances. Nevertheless, France's personality was very far from her own, and many would often look upon the two of them and wonder how they could have remained so close over the centuries. Most who knew France either wanted nothing to do with him, or simply tolerated his company.
Although he could be a little much to deal with, with his flamboyant attitude and... romantic tendencies, Monaco had always quite admired the older country. Having seen him deal with many wars and different types of situations over the years spent with him, she had seen him in so many different lights; as a warrior, a fighter, a peacemaker, a savior; she had seen his many faces, and, at first, had wondered which one was his real one.
Eventually, she had realized that all of it was him.
He was complicated, and she often imagined his heart looking like a jumbled mess, with lies and truths and general emptiness all stuffed up on the inside.
There was love there, though; so much love that it hurt her to even imagine it.
She wondered if there could be anyone who could possibly fit in it.
He was a complication of sorts; a puzzle or a game that she just couldn't figure out. He was like a math equation that was still in its workings, or a science experiment that could go off if any mistakes were made. He had so many inner workings to him hidden behind his charming exterior, and not many could see it.
She herself hadn't been able to see it at first, but as the years dragged on, she had gradually been able to learn more and more about him.
She knew that, no matter how long she would be able to know him, she would never learn everything about him.
Unlike many of the other countries, he had no façade. He had always just been France.
With the many books she had read in her years as a country, she had learned to read between the lines, and France had many words hidden between his.
She wondered how he had not broken into pieces yet.
"Vive la France," he would always chuckle at her, patting her head in a way that she had always found extremely embarrassing. "Long live France, ma soeur. I have fallen and risen time and time again. I have learned everything there is to know about the world."
He had often infuriated her with his cryptic talk, but she had always found it as yet another sign of just how deep his true character really was.
Or perhaps she was just looking into things a bit too deeply; she had always had the habit of thinking too much on things.
Nevertheless, she had and would probably always have a close relationship with the country.
That wasn't to say that he did not often infuriate her to the highest degree.
"Bonjour, Monaco!" France's vibrant tone of voice tore through the cool morning air, his heavy accent sending a harmonious lilt to his surroundings. "Comment ça va?"
The female nation sent him a disapproving glare, her blue eyes narrowed behind her glasses. Various passerby sent the two curious stares as they went along with their business in the picturesque park they were in, and Monaco felt a small burst of embarrassment at the attention the other nation was attracting. "What have I told you about addressing me by that title in public?" she demanded in a low conspiratorial tone, frowning ever so slightly.
France's stance was nothing short of languid, a breezy sort of quality to his smile. He was the perfect picture of casual with his loose white shirt and his hands in his pockets, his wavy blonde hair tied carefully with a blue ribbon and tossed simply over his shoulder. The sun reflected against his blonde locks, his eyes sparkling in a way that only he could make them. Various young women giggled as they glanced his way, and Monaco almost rolled her eyes at the way he blatantly ignored them, as he had always done when he was with her. He let out a light laugh, his chest rumbling ever so slightly at the action. "Come now, Monaco," he started, pausing when she cleared her throat pointedly. "Lucille," he corrected, showing slight humor in his tone. "Must you be so stiff?"
The corners of her lips pointed downwards slightly, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. "Careful," she corrected, not at all liking his careless behavior. "You should not be so open in public."
France shrugged dismissively, holding out his hands in a surrendering gesture. "My apologies, ma soeur. There are not many occasions where I call you by your human name." He smiled in a way that so often had frustrated her. "Besides, it is not as if anyone is listening, oui?"
"Nevertheless, you should be more careful." Monaco frowned, shifting on her heels slightly, as she often did when she felt uncomfortable. "We wouldn't want such things about us to be known after all."
He smiled in an almost playful way, mimicking her gesture by crossing his arms over his chest. "But, my dear, is it not dangerous to be talking this way about our situation? Your words hold such a secretive quality to it after all," he teased, his accent sending a melodic quality to his tone. "You'll make people start thinking that we have something to hide."
Monaco's frown deepened, obviously put off by the conversation. She hated how he would so often tease her and treat her as some sort of little sister. If anything, she would have preferred to be treated as an equal; her intelligence rivaled his after all.
"Why are you here?" she asked, deciding to wisely change the subject.
"No need to be so defensive, Lucille," he said, obviously amused at the way her eyes flashed disapprovingly when he drew out her name. "I just wanted to see how you were doing." He tilted his head, leaning back slightly on the balls of his feet. "Please skip the formalities with me, chère. How long have we known each other?"
She frowned at the affectionate title, but decided to brush it off. No matter what she could say about it, none of it would make a difference to the other nation. He would continue to call her by whatever he wished. "Quite some time," she allowed herself to admit, again shifting ever so slightly on her feet.
He smiled patiently, his face brightened by the calm sunlight. "And don't you think that it's high time to stop speaking like an old woman and act a bit more..." He tilted his head, looking thoughtfully at her. "Looser?"
"I am loose," she disagreed in a dignified manner- the only way she knew how to do so. "I am perfectly loose."
France smiled indulgently, having already been used to her way of acting. "My dear, if your definition of 'loose' is speaking as if you were a sixty-year-old librarian and covering yourself up everywhere you go, then I believe that you need to consort with one of those dictionaries you so love reading."
After all of her years of knowing him, she still was not at all sure whether she appreciated his charming bluntness, or simply hated it with all of her being.
Monaco had never been good at hiding her emotions, and so she had learned not to do so when it came to dealing with France. So, regarding the situation, she did not try at all to hide the fact that she had taken offence with his words. "I do not... I do not speak as if I were sixty-years-old," she rebutted with as much composure as she could muster. In reality, she was actually quite flustered with his statement, not at all used to such bluntness regarding her manner of speaking and acting.
France shrugged, waving the comment off. "Whatever you say." He suddenly smirked at her, giving off waves of smugness that almost made her fall backwards onto the tree behind her. The sudden change in demeanor from him caused her to become quite uneasy; she knew and she hated that familiar expression on his face- the one that he had always put on whenever he knew something that she did not.
"What is it?" she ventured cautiously, reluctantly asking what she knew he wanted to hear. She knew, whatever he would say next to her, she would not like in the slightest.
"Well, we both realize that you haven't really spoken to any of the other nations, oui?" France started, his voice matching the smugness on his face.
"Yes..." she agreed slowly, not at all anxious to know what he was going to say.
"So, I pulled some strings, and everyone has agreed to have the next World Meeting here in your country!" he finished with a dramatic flourish, spreading his arms out wide, as if he expected her to latch onto him and thank him profusely for his kind gesture.
Instead, she blinked blankly at him, standing immobile.
After a few moments, she looked up at him, twitched the corners of her lips downwards, and stepped on his foot with her heel.
France winced, resisting the urge to cry out and grab his foot. "Is that your way of thanking me, chère?"
Monaco pursed her lips, looking at her older brother figure in a way that seemed to make her tower over him, even though he was taller than her, even in her heels. "I hope you realize that I am going to make you pay for everything the countries break during their stay here."
France cursed.
Monaco had always had the tendency to worry constantly over various situations she was often put in, and the situation she was in at the moment was no different.
The usual World Meeting would usually last about two weeks, allowing the countries time to explore whatever place they were in and have enough time to discuss as many problems or happenings going on at the time of the meeting- not that anything productive really happened. It mostly consisted of various arguments and spats erupting between the dozens of countries attending; really, the meetings seemed to cause more problems than they solved.
Seeing as it was the first time she had ever hosted the event in question, she was quite, quite nervous. And worried- as usual.
The first session of the World Meeting would be tomorrow morning, and so several of the nations attending had already arrived in her country. Although she had not been there to meet them when they had arrived, she had been polite enough to send them each a welcome basket and place them in their own respective hotel rooms, wanting to at least make a good first impression before she actually saw them the next day.
She had consulted with France on what each nation would possibly like in their welcome basket, and he had been surprisingly helpful in that endeavor- perhaps because he felt that it was his responsibility to help her with at least that, considering he had gotten her in the whole situation in the first place.
She was undoubtedly nervous and worried, and, since she was so, it would at least be enough decency on his part to help her welcome the other countries to her home.
Not that she was exactly thrilled that they were all there in the first place.
Monaco sighed wearily, hitching up her dress and plopping down unceremoniously onto the white bench in the park she had been in just a few days before. She was much too tired to seem very dignified at the moment, and just wanted to close her eyes and sleep for as long as she was allowed to do so.
"Ve~ Excuse me, bella signora, do you know where I can find the, uh, Hotel De Paris?"
It seemed that she would not be allowed to do so.
Cracking her eyes open, her breath hitched at the handsome face that was just inches away from hers, a confused and slightly worried look to his amber eyes.
They looked like sunlight.
"Are you alright, bella signora?" Now that her eyes were open, it was clear to her that the person who was addressing her was Italy- the northern counterpart to be exact. He had always been seen as a cheerful and lively nation, and she had often seen him at the various World Meetings, whether speaking to his usual companions- Germany and Japan- or trying in vain to make pleasant conversation with his brother, the southern part of their shared country, Romano.
But she had never spoken to him before, and she had definitely never been in such close proximity to him.
Then again, she had never been in such close proximity to anyone besides France, and that was often against her will.
"...Italy." It was not a question, but a statement. Her mind was slowly catching up to the situation she was currently in, the inner workings of her head slowly turning in realization. A light blush spread across her cheeks as everything finally caught up to her, and she found herself shifting awkwardly against the bench, not at all sure about her feelings regarding his face being so close to hers.
His face lit up immediately, a large smile splitting his face. He was clearly delighted at the fact that someone knew who he actually was, even if said person was in fact a country themself. "Right! That's me! I'm Italy!" He let out an airy laugh, finally leaning away from her and standing upright, much to her relief. "How did you know?"
"I just assumed," she murmured, trying not to show her amusement. He was a strange country, surely, but it was also quite refreshing, somehow, to have such lively company- company other than France anyway.
"If you know who I am, then that means..." If possible, his face lit up even more, his eyes widening in exuberant realization. "Then that means you must be a country too, si?"
"Oui," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips at his display of childish excitement. She wasn't at all offended that he did not seem to know who she was; after all, she hadn't spoken much during the meetings anyway, and most of the more louder and expressive countries had taken any chance of actually speaking to him away from her. "I am Monaco."
"Really?" he squealed, clasping his hands together in such excitement, she almost expected him to start jumping up and down right then and there. "That's fantastico!" He was suddenly close to her face once again, and her hands were suddenly in his. They were very warm; it seemed his climate was affecting his body temperature as well. It must have been sunny in Italy. "Ciao! I am Italy!"
She resisted the urge to let out a small laugh at his obvious elation, instead opting to send him a small upward quirk of her lips, as close as she could get to a smile at the moment. She suddenly wasn't quite as tired as she had been just minutes before. "Yes, I know who you are," she murmured, not quite looking him in the eyes.
"Really? That's great!" He smiled obliviously at her obvious awkwardness, not seeming put off by it at all. "I recognize you now! You're always hanging around France and Seborga, right?"
It was true; during the meetings she had usually stayed in the background, either sitting beside some other reclusive country, or staying in close proximity to France. When she wasn't at the World Meetings, she was usually either closed off in one of her libraries, or spending time with Seborga. Although he was technically a part of Italy, and she often spent much of her time with him, she had never actually stumbled upon either the northern or southern part of the personification, and Seborga had never bothered to introduce her to them.
Seborga was on the list of her small group of companions; she had only just started to spend time with him during the present century, and, although he was quite the womanizer and flirt, she found him to be decent company. It was often entertaining to be with him nonetheless, and he seemed to be constantly trying to impress her whenever they were together, much to her blatant amusement.
"Yes," she confirmed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I've seen you at the meetings as well," she continued, albeit shyly. "I don't believe I have ever spoken to you, however."
He suddenly frowned, his amber eyes shimmering like raindrops hitting the water. "Well, that's no good! I need to fix that."
She blinked at him blankly, his words not registering in her mind. "What do you mean-?"
He grabbed her hand and pulled her gracefully off of the bench, laughing airily at the startled expression on her face. "We've never spoken before, si?" At her hesitant nod, he grinned, grasping her hand tighter in his. The sun seemed to shine brighter around him. "Then we can spend the whole day together!"
"The whole day?" she repeated, surprise etched into her features.
Italy nodded, giving her a close eyed smile. "Mhm! All day!" He opened both of his eyes, giving her a cheerful wink that caused her face to redden, much to his clear amusement. "I'll treat you like a princess!"
With sweaty palms and her beating heart, she allowed him to lead her away, her hand still held in his.
"Bellissimo! You have such pretty flowers, Monaco!"
He gently stroked the orange lily hiding peacefully behind several other flowers planted in the large park. He bended over slightly, allowing Monaco a clearer look at his form.
He was quite lean, although not unattractively so, and just a few inches taller than she was. His constantly elated smile lit up his surroundings, his brown hair reflecting the light of the sun. She could see his and her skies in his eyes.
"It's not that wonderful," she said, hanging back shyly, not at all used to someone fawning so much over her own country. She hadn't shown someone around her home in such a long time, and it was strange to see someone suddenly seeming to be so delighted and interested in seeing everything, especially such a bright nation like Italy. "I am not the only country that has them."
Italy glanced up at her, not seeming insulted by the fact that she was standing so far away from him. "Ve~ But you're the most beautiful one!" Her face flushed violently, and her heartbeat quickened; she had never received any compliments from anyone besides France and Seborga, but the two of them did not count, seeing as the former was only seen as an older brother figure, and probably only said those affectionate things to her because he knew that it embarrassed her so, and the latter was only seen as a close friend, and he gave out compliments to the opposite gender like it was a sin not to, meaning that he did so every chance he got.
And so it was strange to hear such nice compliments directed at her from someone she had just met almost an hour before.
"Thank you, Italy," she managed to say, her voice soft.
Italy just smiled sweetly, gently plucking the lily out of its place in the ground and walking over to her, tucking the flower behind her ear. "There," he said quietly, his breath fanning over the side of her face. She could hear his breathing in her ears; the sun was suddenly much too bright. "Now, the flower is even more beautiful." He leaned back slightly, his hands gently holding her arms, his smile as cheerful as it could be. "Pretty flower for a pretty lady!"
Monaco's breath hitched, her face reddening. She prayed that it was because of the heat, but the weather was calm, almost cool. Her companion was suddenly much too close. "I..." She trailed off, her words getting stuck in her throat. This had never happened before; she had always been so used to being able to speak her mind, to say whatever she wanted to say. But, all of a sudden, the words wouldn't come out of her throat, and nothing came to her mind.
All of a sudden, it was just her, Italy, and sunlight.
Italy tittered, tilting his head to the side. "You look even more like a princess, Monaco!" He suddenly took a sharp step backwards, letting go of her arms. She startled, taking a step backwards as well, surprised at the change in situation.
Italy suddenly made a swift bow, a proper one, much like she had seen done many centuries ago. He turned his face upwards to look at hers, his amber eyes finding her blue ones.
The colors didn't match, and yet everything and everyone around them seemed to stop for just several moments, as if silenced by the sight before them.
"Mia principessa," he spoke, a charming and suddenly older air about him. She suddenly felt like royalty. He smiled sweetly up at her, his eyes suddenly holding a softer light to them. "I am Feliciano, and you are?"
She blinked, heat creeping up the back of her neck to her polished face. Nations usually did not address other nations by their human names; only when in public, or if they were very close to each other.
What was he trying to tell her?
She softened her expression, her blue eyes suddenly twinkling in a way that greatly resembled France's. "Lucille. That is my name."
His smile brightened considerably, and she realized that this was something different; a game, perhaps. A way to forget that they were nations for just a little while, and pretend to be someone different.
"And what does your name mean, pretty Lucille?" he asked, causing a small laugh to erupt past her lips. Her heartbeat quickened, like butterflies.
"French Light," she replied, smiling a small smile. It was bright.
Italy let out a delighted laugh, his eyes closing for one breathtaking moment. "What a great name! My name only means 'happy.'"
It made sense, Monaco mused. It fit him perfectly.
It was always meant for him.
"Your name is lovely as well," she conceded, liking the way the sunlight melted into his eyes. "It suits you."
He grinned, still lowered in a bow. "Your name suits you too!" He lowered himself down to the ground, kneeling on one knee, and grabbed one of her cold hands in his. It was a moment from a fairytale, or a myth. He was the knight, the prince, and she was the princess.
She was the light, and he shared it too.
"You are bellissimo, principessa! As beautiful as light!" He shot her a twinkling look, and pressed his lips to her hand.
She curled her fingers around his, and suddenly didn't feel like Monaco anymore.
By the time the first week came to a close, Monaco had spent most of her time with the Italian nation, showing him around the rest of her home and silently enjoying the other nation's company. Somehow, since that first day they had met, they had come to a silent understanding of each other; they knew each other's various quirks and faces, and, all of a sudden, it wasn't just Monaco anymore.
Now, there was Italy.
"Your library is so big, bella signora," he said in an awed whisper, as they passed the tall bookshelves that had somehow fit themselves into the quiet library. It certainly wasn't the biggest library in her country, but she had often found herself going to this particular one; perhaps because not many of her citizens went to this one, seeing as it was one of the oldest ones there, and was located quite a ways away from the lively life of the city.
"It's certainly not the biggest," she said softly, leading him deeper into the library. Her heart felt warmer, a pleasant tingly feeling dancing up her spine. This was home, and she could name every single book in the old library, and find exactly where they were placed. The books were her home; it was the heart of her country, "but it's certainly my favorite."
Italy smiled at her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken once again. She felt that it would eventually jump out of her chest by the rate it was going. "I like it," he whispered, somehow able to have a sort of pleasant quality to his tone. "It's really nice and cozy."
Monaco smiled; she seemed to be doing that a lot lately. There were circles of light from the light fixtures above them dancing on the floors. "I'm glad."
Once they had reached the middle of the library, Italy had stopped to gawk in awe.
A large patterned rug was placed in the middle of the floor, and, surrounding them in a circle, were dozens of bookshelves full of millions of books. It was as if they could hear the words singing around them, telling stories of love and loss and war and peace; they could somehow see fire dancing on the ceiling and fairies giggling on top of the bookcases.
The words and stories cascaded around them.
"Oh, wow...!" Italy breathed in awe, twirling around in a circle, his face turned upwards to look up at the books. "Wow!" He twirled around once again, faster this time, a giddy laugh erupting from his lips. "This is amazing, Monaco!" He grinned at her, his eyes lighting up his face. "Bellissimo, Lucille!"
She stood immobile in shock, her fingers tingling. It was different, because, when she looked at him, she could see her favorite love stories playing out in his eyes, and the lights dangling from the strands of his hair. His heart seemed to glow through his chest.
She wanted to suddenly reach out and touch his face, his hands, his heart; she wanted to grab that light from and feel the warmth of it on her face, surrounding the both of them with something that she had never before felt.
"When you are in love, ma soeur, it doesn't happen right away. It is a gradual thing, and, sometimes, you don't notice it right at the beginning. It happens at one moment, when all you see is them, and, suddenly, nothing and no one else seems more beautiful or seems to shine as bright as them. They are suddenly the light of your world."
She looked at Italy, and, suddenly, the books weren't her favorite thing in the library anymore.
It was the last day.
The last session of the World Meeting had ended just a day before, and many of the nations were preparing to go back to their own respective countries, having no reason to stay in Monaco's home any longer.
Somewhere in her heart, she hoped that one would still have a reason.
"Well, that wasn't so bad, yes, Lucille?" France suddenly materialized next to her, his suitcase in hand. She was almost sad to see him go; an almost nostalgic feeling sweeping her chest, and she pursed her lips, not turning to look at the older country.
"I suppose," she conceded, not willing to give him the satisfaction of a positive response.
France chuckled, patting her head, causing her to frown and duck beneath him, eliciting a louder laugh from the country. "I'm glad that you had fun, chère. I believe that you have found good company in some of the other nations?" He sent her a pointed look, his cerulean eyes seeming to blend into her own. They mixed together to from one brighter blue, and it was as if they had both become one person, able to see past the face that they had put on.
"I fell in love," she answered delicately, managing to remain dignified even as she said those words that she had never believed that she would ever say.
"Oh, really?" France asked, raising one delicate eyebrow. A small smile played over his lips, his eyes curious. "Who has managed to steal your heart, dear soeur?"
"Monaco! Monaco!" Italy's excited voice broke through the air, and, suddenly, a light smile appeared on the female nation's face, her blonde hair lighting up her expression like firelight. "Monaco!" He suddenly appeared before her, his smile brighter than she had ever seen it.
Her smile faded.
"Seychelles and I wanted to thank you for everything," Italy said, holding up his and Seychelle's joined hands, the latter looking very much abashed. Her tanned face sported a blush, but her eyes were as bright as Monaco had ever seen them to be. Lights seemed to dance around her dress. "We had a great time, right, bella?"
Seychelles allowed a shy smile, meeting Monaco's eyes. "Yes. I'm glad that I was able to see you again, Monaco."
She and Seychelles had known each other for quite some time, seeing as the latter had used to spend so much time with France.
All of a sudden, Monaco realized why she never saw Seychelles with France anymore.
"Ah, bonjour, Italy, Seychelles," France interrupted smoothly, allowing a casual smile to appear on his face.
Italy grinned at the other male nation, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet. "Ciao, Big Brother France!"
"Hello, France," Seychelles spoke out quietly, giving the other nation a hesitant smile. Her brown eyes still shined, like candlelight. She had always been able to light up Francis's nights.
It seemed that Italy had managed to light up her days.
"Ah, bonjour, Seychelles." France gave her a soft smile, one that said everything words could not.
Monaco felt her heart beat faster, as if it would break at any moment; she felt France gently take her hand.
"We should all meet up with each other one day!" Italy broke in, swinging his and Seychelles' joined hands back and forth. "Si?"
"I'd like that," Seychelles agreed bashfully, twirling a strand of her hair with her free hand, the sunlight dancing on the top of her brown hair.
France gripped Monaco's hand tighter, and the latter wasn't at all sure who he was trying to comfort more at that moment: himself or her. "Of course," he said calmly, the lights in his eyes dimming ever so slightly. "We would like that, wouldn't we, Monaco?"
Italy turned to the other female nation, and, suddenly, she felt as if all of the light that had been turned on in her heart had been turned off. Italy's heart suddenly didn't glow through his chest anymore. "Of course," she replied nonetheless, her voice seeming to come from far away, from someone else other than her. "I would like that."
It looked as if Italy's smile couldn't have gotten bigger, his eyes exploding with the light of the day. "Magnifico!" he exclaimed. "I can't wait!"
Seychelles sent the two of them a little smile, the happiness contained in it seeming to shoot Monaco in the eyes. "I'm glad I could see you two again."
They left.
All of a sudden, it was just Monaco and France again.
"Je suis désolé," France murmured, turning the immobile female nation around to face him, gently holding the end of her long braid in his hand. "Je suis désolé, ma chère. I am sorry."
"He said I was as beautiful as light." Her words tasted dry on her tongue, her blue eyes resembling the night sky. "He said I looked like a princess."
"Royal light," France murmured, pained. "You are a princess, Lucille; French light."
"I wanted to be Italian light," Monaco choked out, closing her eyes tightly. She wondered where the orange lily that Italy had given her last week had gone.
Perhaps it had never been hers in the first place.
'You are bellissimo, principessa!'
She suddenly realized, with a sort of dull ache in her heart, that that had always just been Italy being Italy.
He had meant every word, yes, but not with the implication that she had wanted.
"I..." She brought herself closer to the older nation, and he cradled her in his arms, gently pushing her head to lay on his chest. She gripped the front of his shirt tightly in her hands, her forehead pressed against his chest. "Does it get any easier?" she mumbled after a few silent-filled moments. She knew he had heard her. "Does it hurt any less?"
"No," he answered truthfully, his chin resting on top of her head. "No. It does not get any easier."
"Was I not good enough?" She realized that she sounded much like one of those pathetic heroines in the countless romance novels she would read. She had often thought it foolish how they would react to having their heart broken; after all, it was just a boy. It wasn't as if their entire world had ended.
Now, she knew.
It felt as if Italy had been ripped out of her world and there was only an empty space there; an incomplete map.
France let out a tired sigh, holding her tighter in his arms. "It was not that you weren't good enough, soeur," he said, her heart beating against his. "His heart just wasn't meant to fit you in it."
"Was your heart big enough to fit Seychelles, frère?" she asked quietly, latching onto him as if she were a small child. He smelled like home.
"It wasn't my heart that was the problem," France responded, his voice thick. "Her heart just wasn't meant to carry me in it."
The lights danced in the breeze, passing them on its way home. The wind carried their little piece of history in its waves, swirling around them as it wrote their new part of the story.
"I'm sorry," Monaco murmured. "I'm sorry."
"One day," France breathed, pressing his face into her hair. "One day, we will find the one who has a heart big enough for us."
"We fell in love with the ones who had the other written on their hearts," Monaco mumbled, her heartbeat slowing its pace.
"We loved them, and we still do," France agreed solemnly. "The lights carried them home to each other."
'Mia principessa.'
"Shall we let them go together, Lucille?" France asked quietly, gripping her tighter. The wind blew around them; the lights sparkled in the morning skies.
Her heart slowly filled with a different kind of light.
France and Monaco; Frère France and Soeur Monaco.
"Oui," she whispered.
The lights slowly flickered on.
A/N: I told you all it probably wouldn't be what you had expected to be of this sequel.
For a while, I've wanted to write a Monaco/Italy story, but the one I've had in my head recently I felt that I couldn't write as well as I wanted to, and so, when this sequel was requested, I decided to try going for this.
In my head, I couldn't just write a simple Italy/Seychelles romance where they got together officially and lived happily ever after. I couldn't exactly bring myself to do that; there had to be something else.
Thus, Monaco/Italy was born.
Of course, then there's me again, with my bittersweet endings.
I really just can't write a romance without one. Love doesn't always work in the way one wants it to after all.
So.
Who do you ship now, huh? Italy/Seychelles or Italy/Monaco?
Soeur means sister, by the way. And frère means brother. I assume you all know what the others words mean if you've read enough Hetalia fanfictions.