Marianne was still as selfish as ever, really. She watched her people wage war, felt them all die, and she smiled. She smiled, but for her own reasons.
"Are you okay, Marianne?"
The question was asked gently, and a pair of arms wrapped around her bare waist as she continued to stare out her window. She relaxed into the grip and sighed contentedly, breathing in the musky smell of sex in the room.
"Oui, mon chéri. Je suis très bien." She said, lightly. And she was, really. She had what she wanted. Her bones could ache. She would be okay.
A soft sigh. "How do you handle it? If you can feel every single one of them suffering…"
"You just focus on better things."
"Like?"
"You."
A blush. "I still don't understand this being a country business. I believe it, I just don't understand it."
Marianne turned around now and kissed her lips gently before speaking.
"You don't have to right now. In time though, you will. After all you can feel it too, to a degree, non?"
She nodded. "Oui."
An embrace. "It will be okay." Marianne murmured. "Je t'aime, Jeanne."
"Je t'aime, Marianne."
God indeed had more mercy than man, and more generosity. God gave gifts, too.
Extended Author's Note: And then there were rainbows and sparkles and kittens. The end.
But really though, before the recent Jeanne D'arc strip in Hetalia, my head canon was that historical figures, if important enough, could come back in a similar form to nation people. Crack-ish? Maybe. But you have to admit it kind of makes sense, if Grandpa Rome is a smooth-talking ghost.
Hope you enjoyed~
