Hey! I'm Joanne, pleased to meet you! *bows* I don't write fanfics... or at least I didn't think I did until I got bored one night and wrote this... then my mate Maerlyn got hold of it and started laughing telling me I needed to write more... so here's the first chapter of English Rose. Just so you know this is set during the Second English Civil War (as I only want it to take up part of this fic) and America is way to young to do anything... unless you like that stuff... but unfortunatly for those of you who do I really don't! So this is going to be a FrUk for now.

ENJOY!


Chapter 1

Arthur clutched his head which threatened to spilt in two trying to repress the cry of pain. Coughs racked his body. His blood poured out of his mouth from some unknown injury.

How long was this going to go on for!

His vision swam making him clasp the table next to him tightly. His free hand reached for the telephone shaking violently. He hesitated.

Who the hell could he call?

Nobody cared that much and America was too young to be dealing with this.

He slumped against the wall.

Dammit. So much for splendid isolation.

He laughed resulting in another bout of bloodied coughing.

That bloody stupid parliament and that bloody stupid idiotic king. Not to mention that fucking excuse for a brother Scotland, and the two twits across the channel. Reflecting on it it was no surprise that he was all alone.

A knock came at the door startling the English man. He struggled to his feet heading for the bathroom.

"I'll be there in a second" he called instantly regretting raising his voice as it sent his head into painful spasms.

Looking at himself in the mirror above the sink he groaned inwardly. Blood was all over his chin. His green eyes were sunken into deep dark bags around his eyes. His skin looked clammy and his hair was probably the only thing which seemed to be its normal messy self. He splashed his face with cold water wiping the blood away as much as he could.

The knock became insistent. "I SAID I WOULD BE THERE IN A SECOND YOU WANKER!" he yelled and once again had to grab hold of the sink to save himself from collapsing.

Pull it together and answer the freaking door.

Painstakingly he made his way to the huge oak front door. Yet as he finally opened it he wished he hadn't.

"L'Angleterre~3" A second went by before England finally registered the blonde haired pervert wearing practically nothing but a pair of breeches, knee length leather boots and some linen pants. He made to slam the door but Francis grabbed it trying to force it open.

"Stop it you crazy bastard!"

"Oh come on l'Angleterre our royals are married we should be too"

"Pfft we were at war not 18 years ago you bloody fool go home!" England shouted slamming his body against the door just as France managed to drag his head around the door. With a yelp Francis was kicked out very painfully.

—†∅†∅†—

As he rubbed his almost bare backside he heard the stamping of feet cut of suddenly by a large thumping sound.

He stood up glaring at the door which had gotten eerily quiet. Normally Arthur would still be loudly cursing behind it but there was... nothing.

"That hurt mon petite cher!" Francis yelled using the high bulky heel of his boots to kick the door in. The door slammed against the far wall at the opposite end of the corridor shattering.

Nothing.

No screaming Arthur, no curses, no...something was wrong.

"Arthur?" Francis turned around quickly searching for any sign of the lost nation. "Now is not the time to be playing hide and go seek England. You're scaring big brother" He said nervously slowly inching towards the kitchen that he had been banned from for trying to 'sabotage' Arthur's scones. Of course he had only been trying to make them edible but England never saw it that way.

A groan like the living dead came from behind France who jumped out of his skin. He span elegantly around his eyes wide as they finally caught sight of a pale hand protruding from the staircase.

"L'Angleterre! Ce qui ne va pas? êtes-vous malade? Ce qui est arrivé l'Angleterre?" He ran to Arthur's side. "Have you been eating your scones again?"

Arthur groaned but didn't make a sound as more blood gurgled out of his mouth. Placing a hand to the English gentleman's forehead he felt the fever burning intensely.

"Sacre bleur! Is the war really that bad L'Angleterre? Why didn't you tell me!"

Another groan. He swept his arms under the sick nation lifting him up. "Let's get you to bed"

Normally that line would of been layered with meaning and would end with a very bruised nation of France...or Prussia... or even Spain. They should of learnt by now their pick-up lines caused more injury but now was not one of those times.

England made no move to beat up the Frenchman making Francis' worries increase ten-fold. He started to carry Arthur up to the bedroom at the top of the house praying that the stupid war would end. The selfish citizens of Arthur were going to freaking kill him.

As this thought ran through his mind he heard a soft murmur come from the bundle in his arms.

"Pardon Monsieur?" He asked leaning in closer to hear England's raspy yet threatening voice.

"Put me the hell down you French prat or I'll curse you,"

"Now now L'Angleterre stop your fussing. I saved you non? A prince never leaves his princess," he laughed as convincingly as he could still deeply worried. He needn't of been as England found the energy to raise two fingers at him. France fumed silently but expect it.

It was England after all.

—†∅†∅†—

After what seemed like a million stairs they reached Arthur's room. It was small compared to the Frenchman's but cosy. There was a fireplace on the wall opposite a messed and blood stained double bed.

Francis winced. Had it really been getting that bad? The bed didn't look slept in instead it seemed more like someone had be kept awake and tortured. Like something Spain would have done in his inquisitor days.

"Just put me down and leave frog." Arthur grumbled using up the last of his energy to glare. In the past it would of sent everyone running for the hills but right now it was as weak as a fluffy bunny dressed in a cloak... France instead sent a concerned look at the bed then to Arthur making the Englishman feel guilty.

"Where do you keep your fresh bed sheets?" He asked his accent thick as he got more and more concerned. Arthur had heard it before when France was looking after Canada but never thought it would be directed to him after the whole burning Francis' lover in a fit of jealousy.

R.I.P. Joan.

That was a world away and yet all so close when Francis wore that face and spoke like that. He grunted towards a cupboard in a corner of the room.

"They'll only get ruined as well. There's no point in ruining more then one sheet you know."

"But you'll grow even sicker if you stay in that filth. Et that won't help the war end now non?"

England grumbled giving up which made France laugh a bit more naturally. He placed the fevered man on the small plush red armchair in the alcove.

"Stay there and get comfortable. Big brother will look after you."

England groaned even louder burying his head in his hands yet all France did was laugh his laugh finally feeling a bit more relaxed. If that was at all possible. He turned and striding to the other side went to bend down to get the sheet out of the lowest draw. Arthur shouted loudly.

"DO NOT EVEN THINK OF BENDING DOWN WHEN YOU ARE WEARING THAT YOU DIRTY FRENCHMAN!"

It was at this point France remembered he was half dressed. There was a reason out of the realms of the perverted ways of his mind to explain his...condition, but he doubted England would want to hear it. Yet this thought only had a second to be registered before a new thought replaced it.

~So he had been staring at my ass when I turned round non? Well can't blame him.~

Its hard to tell when stood next to Spain but France had a damn fine ass too.

It was only when he caught England's disturbed face that he realised he had subconsciously started rubbing his own backside.

"Quoi? Aren't I allowed to admire mon derrière?"

"Oh dear god please save me" Arthur managed before breaking out into another bout of coughing.

Francis rushed over trying to stop England from moving and causing more injuries. "Your people are imbecile. Don't move an inch I'll go put on some clothes already"

Yet another thing he believed he would never say.

He made sure that Arthur was not going to move from the chair and hurried into the adjacent bathroom with walk in wardrobe.

He didn't bother with cleaning Arthur's blood of him or the dirt from falling on the ground earlier. Instead he stripped in record time (practise makes perfect) and started to rummage through Arthur's clothes for anything that would romotely fit him.

—†∅†∅†—

Back outside and Arthur was growing relentless. It was just his luck that HE had had to show up. He knew he owed the Frenchman right now but this was an invasion...OF PRIVACY! Not that Francis would see that.

Arthur buried his face in his hands. He had been living this nightmare for about 13 years it couldn't go on for much longer right? He didn't even care if the royalists of the parliamentarians won. All he wanted was for all this darn pain to go away.

"Yoohoo England~" Arthur's thoughts were cut short as he looked up to see that Francis had managed to find a heavy tunic to wear. He had not been so lucky in the bottoms department. They were way too short, showing off an inappropriate amount of leg. Arthur blushed.

"You can't wear that!"

But Francis didn't care. "And why not my beloved L'Angleterre?"

"One, you set a terrible example for my citizens. And two. Its bloody indecent!"

"Your citizens are already terrible examples of everything. Et plus I have the best nose for fashion. I bet super short bottoms will come in soon"

Arthur scoffed. "Sure in a few hundred years or so" He looked slightly green so France once again tried to read his temperature yet Arthur knocked his hand aside.

"I don't need your pity."

"You had better let me help you L'Angleterre seeing as right now I have both of your precious, cute princes in my care. If you don't let me nurse you back to health then I'll turn both your princes into irresponsible partying Frenchmen!"

"You wouldn't dare!" England scowled through his fever.

France winked knowingly. "You know I would so stop acting like un petite enfant"

*flash forwards*

"Come on L'Angleterre party with me! It's my corination non?" Charles II shouted over the band and feasting patrons. England fumed.

"That bloody French bastard! We had a deal!"

*end flash forwards*

Francis always had a bad poker face so Arthur could tell he was genially serious. He shivered at the thought of young Charles being corrupted by the French. But at this rate there might never be a need for another monarch.

"Fine...do your worse" he said closing his eyes tight and gripping the arms of the chair.

Francis laughed. "You would think I was going to torture you."

"Isn't that what you usually do when you catch me when I'm ill?"

France shrugged. "I normally have something to gain there l'Angleterre. Now I am just here out of the goodness of my large heart over-flowing with love!" At this point he was smelling roses and blowing kisses.

"Pfft what are you compensating for?" France deflated significantly.

"I'm dressed now so there should be no problem with remaking your bed right?" France busied himself with stripping the bed (another thing he was well practised in- anything to do with stripping was his speciality). He finished putting the new bed together with a flourish leaving it partly open.

"Now for the final piece." He said turning to England.

"No freaking way I can walk to my bed without your help frog" Arthur complained pushing himself up.

"Fine mon ami let's see you try," he sat down on the edge of the bed, crossed his legs and waited expectantly.

England forced himself to stand on his own two feet. His whole body protested but he ignored it. He wouldn't let Francis see the amount of pain he was in. Especially when he was pulling that awfully smug face.

Francis watched Arthur as he struggled to even stay upright let alone managing to take a step forward. He was waiting for the nation to humble himself and ask for help. He may of been doing this out of the kindness in his heart but England's attitude was cutting his fuse short.

Arthur said nothing his weight quickly bringing his sick body forwards. Too be honest France found it was quite amusing.

"Come my slave!" Cried France trying to keep a straight face but ending up giggling.

"Bastard" England muttered.

His ears rang. His eye lids were heavy. Not to mention that pounding headache coming back. He gritted his teeth. Just take another step forward. Just one more. He forced the leg to move. It felt like lead as he moved it, rather like his pirate days, but as soon as his weight was put on it it changed to the consistency of jelly.

God dammit. He thought desperately as he fell forwards.

France yelp as England fell and not just because he was shocked but because Arthur fell on top of him.

The Englishman's dead weight pinned him to the bed.

"L'Angleterre! Please wake up! Je suis coincé! L'Angleterre!" France whined.

Normally he would just push the unconscious country off him but that was defiantly not an option now.

"If you do not get off me L'Angleterre so help me I'll have to invade your vital regions."

Still no reaction. France sighed and assessed what was going on. He was trapped under a very heavy dead weight which was England extremely ill from the stupid civil war that had broken out... business as usual then!

He used what little movement he had to make sure England could still breath before settling down to the inevitable. He had no way to contact anybody and it would probably be an age before anyone checked on this old crone or even for England to regain consciousness. And if anyone did come in they would think the worse. Seriously what had he done to make all the countries think that he was so perverted? So he had messed around with Italy a bit... both of them and had several over past grievances but come on! That sort of stuff shouldn't be held against a nation.

He stared at the ceiling concentrating on the rapid heartbeat of the nation on top of him.


So hope you liked it! Please review! I may not have any idea where this is going but it's going somewhere I promise you. Anyway thank you for taking the time out to read it.

Much love.

Joanne xx