A/N: So... Who is up for a little bit of light Frain? ;) I've got mentions of FrUk here, for some fans, and of course the ever-popular Jeanne. Do enjoy, my dears. Gracias por su tiempo~

Alicia's hands began to shake as she took a pot of tea and began to pour some, quite unevenly, that she began to spill tea almost everywhere. Upon seeing this, Arthur got up from his seat and placed a gentle hand upon hers, "Allow me to do that, my dear," and he pried the teapot and tea cup from her hands. The young Spaniard moved to the side of the bed she shared with the French Captain and only watched as the English Captain poured tea for both of them. She really didn't know what to expect or even how to think. She didn't know what this feeling was, and she didn't know what much to do about it. Quite familiar with this reaction of hers – and knowing fully well where she got it – Arthur sighed and handed her the tea, "Here, it will help." But she only took it in her hands, staring at the light-coloured drink.

"Alicia."

The young girl turned her amber eyes towards him, monotonous but loud. Arthur tried to reach into the very depths of his conscience, wondering if what he was going to do was really necessary and right, but he shook his head and told himself that it was the best – especially for Alicia, "There's something you need to know about Francis."

For a long time, she didn't say anything. Then, finally, she found her voice, soft and wavering, "… He sleeps with people."

Arthur blinked once, twice, before he choked out, "Y-you know?"

The dark-haired girl shrugged, "I could make it out from your conversations with Capitan Toni. That… And the Staff Captain talked to me," Alicia replied, avoiding his gaze, "… Wh-why does he do that?"

The Brit took a sip of tea, before he sighed and set the cup down on the nearest surface, before sitting on the bedside beside the young girl, "Listen," he started, turning to her the way a father would, "Francis is… highly amorous. And he takes promiscuity to a whole different level. Practically invented it, I have enough reason to believe… And I know that he may stir up some kind of unusual emotions that you have not been accustomed to, but neither Antonio nor I would like you to get hurt by his usual games, so-"

"Games?" she looked even more confused as ever, "What are you talking about, Capitan Arturo?"

"Did he really raise you this naively?" demanded Arthur, but he shook his head and took a deep breath, "Alicia." He said her name slowly and certainly, "You have to know that everything Francis does is just for the pleasure of it. Good wine. Even better food. Beautiful people. And a nice, hard fuck."

"You're wrong," Alicia started, not knowing why she was defending the Frenchman, "It isn't all just about-"

"Sex?" Arthur laughed hollowly, "Really, now?" she found an expression on him that she'd never seen before – it was smug and all-knowing, and it sent shivers down her spine, "Then tell me honestly that on your very first day on this ship, he didn't put you in this very bed and did you right then and there."

Again, Alicia remained quiet. This time, knowing he had gone quite far, Arthur removed his cap, allowing it to fall unceremoniously on the floor, before he rubbed his temples, "I'm sorry," the Brit started, "I shouldn't even… I'm not supposed to…"

But his speech was cut off by Alicia's question:

"How do you know?"

Emerald eyes widened, and for a long time, they just held their gaze. Alicia's expression was unreadable, but Arthur could sense her internal regression – this wasn't going to be pretty. He began to recall Antonio's initial descriptions of the young girl, and the fact that he could see five sheathes of daggers and varying sizes of knives on top of her pants… He nearly cringed at the thought of the young Spaniard keeping more than those five.

"Alicia, I would like to answer you honestly," Arthur began slowly, creeping upon his words, "… But I do not wish to astound you even more than absolutely necessary today."

But Alicia shook her head, "Capitan, I lived through getting raped and violated-" Arthur's heart missed a beat here, especially since she'd never talked about it vocally before, "- and I've fought wars alongside Capitan Toni… I think words should have less of an effect on me, don't you think?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Arthur brushed away bristles of her jet-black hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ears, "You have no idea how much more powerful words are compared to that." Alicia was about to ask when the Englishman continued, "Words have moved me to do things that I've never done before – but, of course, none of which I have ever regretted…"

Alicia only stared at him, but Arthur chuckled and continued, "Well, dear, if you must know, Francis and I were together once as well-" the young Spaniard gasped here, "-and I know that you think I've hated him, but before I've been in this hundred years of war with him, we really did begin to fool around a bit, and all that romantic nonsense…" He began to look nostalgic, and the young girl could only stare, "It was sex for a long time – consensual, of course – until he started to call me all those blasted pet names, and he used that blasted accent against me, and I almost thought my heart would burst because of all of it…"

Just then, Alicia saw Arthur clench his fists, and beads of sweat began to form upon his forehead, "And then he told me that he had feelings for me…" honey-brown eyes widened, "… But then again, I couldn't believe him. Nobody can. Even if it took me a great deal of time just to accept that. I mean, we were just fooling around – it wasn't even supposed to be taken in that certain way…" Arthur chuckled at the memory again, "… So I slept with a different man one night, and he was the one who got angry. He harked about feelings, and love, and pain, but honestly? We were both just doing what we could so as not to be sleeping alone at night."

His eyes turned back to Alicia, who gulped, "He's a damn bastard, could tell you that much, because the drunken bastard admitted right after it that he lied." Arthur started, shaking his head and laughing lightly, "But I've had my fair share of falling in love, and I guess even he has his as well…"

"…" Alicia tried to find the right words to continue, which wouldn't give the Brit a heart attack. However, she pressed herself for time and decided upon the most blunt, "… You mean Jeanne, don't you?"

With that Arthur froze. For a moment, Alicia thought that he would be in catatonic state, but he recomposed himself and drew a deep breath, "About that, actually," he looked at the young Spaniard and just stared at her, "… He has never brought her up to you, has he?" Black locks bounced as Alicia shook her head. The Englishman sighed again, "At the rate he's going, you know, he will probably never forget about her…"

"What?" her question became hoarse and breathless.

"J-Jeanne," it seemed that he struggled, even by just the mere mention of her name, "… I've never done something that horrible in my entire life, honestly. I never meant to cause him that kind of pain – ever." Alicia could see his crestfallen expression and practically hear the despair dripping from Arthur's voice, "It would actually be a miracle if someone else would take her place in his heart, but from what I can see, that woman seemed to be Francis' first love…" his eyes met hers and his gaze became sympathetic, "And you know what they say about first love, right?"

Alicia knew she would regret hearing it, but she shook her head anyway.

"A first love lasts forever."

X.o.X

George was anxious. They hadn't heard a thing from the insides of the Captain's quarters and his Captain's current lover was inside. With the man who leads their enemy. Alone. With no signs of any form of a struggle whatsoever.

It wasn't until there was a crash on the floor that he decided that he should just burst into the room and demand for the Englishman to leave their ship immediately. However, what he was met with was the Captain's lover, with several shards of broken glass at her feet, and her bleeding hands in the hands of the English Navy's Captain, Arthur Kirkland.

"…Mademoiselle?" he asked, earning the attention of the other two occupants of the room. Arthur raised an eyebrow, but George chose to ignore it, "What happened? Is there anything I can do?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "She just grasped a teacup wrong, she isn't going to die." He pulled a piece of cloth from within his coat and wrapped it neatly and tightly around the young girl's palm, "There, should stop the bleeding for the meantime."

"G-gracias," she mumbled, sitting back down on the bed, "It is okay, George," she said to the First Mate, "I'm all right. Capitan Arturo is quite a good guest." But the Staff Captain didn't seem too convinced.

"Regardless," he started, unsheathing his sword, and making Alicia's honey-coloured eyes widen, "I have been ordered to keep you safe from any form of danger or harm, mademoiselle… Which is why I would like to request for Captain Kirkland to leave the vessel immediately…"

"Watch you you're talking to." Arthur suddenly sneered, "You forget who stands in France-"

"My orders do not come from you, Captain Kirkland."

Almost at once, Arthur had unsheathed his sword to point it at the Frenchman. However, almost just as quick – much to the two men's surprise, Alicia had pulled one dagger from her side to push down the sword, and pulled another to point at the Englishman.

Emerald eyes widened, and Alicia breathed heavily, glaring at him and still pointing her dagger, "This is my crew now, Capitan Arturo," she began, "And I do not wish my crew any harm."

For a long time, Arthur just stared at her. Then, he withdrew his sword and shook his head, "I have to talk to Antonio about his loyalties," he muttered, chuckling. He turned to George, "Where is your next port of destination?"

George could only look at the pair of them. Alicia re-sheathed her weapons and turned to the Frenchman, "Answer him."

"Ah yes." The First Mate cleared his throat, "Cherbourg, mademoiselle,"

"Good," Arthur said, "Just along the English Channel." He turned to Alicia, "Come aboard my ship, I'll bring you there myself. We have much to discuss,"

George's eyes widened, "You can't-"

But Alicia placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and shook her head, "It's all right," her amber eyes turned to Arthur, "All right, Capitan. I'll come aboard."

The Frenchman was at a loss for what to do, "M-mais, mademoiselle!" he called out as Alicia and Arthur were heading out the door, "C-Captain Kirkland-"

"It is okay, George." She even smiled as she said it, worrying the Frenchman more. However, it was her orders against his will, and all he was ever taught was to follow orders:

"Just keep the crew safe and steer for the next port. I will surely meet you there."

X.o.X

The river was long and mellifluous – just as he had been told. There were lush greens that surrounded it, and the people who came with him were quiet. It wasn't much, really. But it was beautiful. It was certainly a sight to behold. And when he drew a deep breath, the smell of fresh water tingled his nostrils: yes. This would be something bigger one day. He could sense it, he could feel it in his bones. It was his own. And even as he just stood there, he could hear the land calling out to him, calling his name, knowing that he was there. That it's father was there.

"Spain! Spain!"

Yes. It was a sign. It was a sign that this sight was his, and that these valleys would be more than just-

"SPAIN!"

… He didn't expect the valley to call out to him that loud.

The Spaniard turned around to find a young girl, clad in a sky-blue dress, with her ocean-blue eyes disappearing in her smile and her shoulder-length blond hair flowing gracefully in the wind, "There you are, Spain~" she started, panting as she arrived at his side, "I've been calling you!"

"O-oh," the brunet scratched the back of his head, a faint blush appearing in his cheeks, "So that was you."

"Eh?" The young girl looked at him incredulously before laughing, her voice like music to his ears, "Well, who else did you think it was?"

"N-nobody," Spain shook his head, "B-but, I haven't really seen you in a while, France, so…"

But France merely beamed at him, happiness practically emanating from her very being, "Come," she started, taking one of his hands into her own, "I want to show you something."

His face turned bright red at the touch of her hands, but he nodded firmly and allowed himself to be taken away by her.

She pulled him through the grass, and farther down the valley, close enough to the river that he could practically hear it flowing. She was beautiful – and that was all he could think about. All he knew was the fact that she was the girl next door, someone like him, who personifies a different set of people. And the way she smiled made him think so gloriously about the sun – and how she was very much brighter than it. She was mesmerizing, captivating. Even the way she says his name so naturally sent his heart beating a mile a minute.

"We're here!" she squealed and giggled happily.

Spain looked around – there wasn't really much of a difference. "Uh," he started, feeling that ache in his chest as she looked up at him with that bright smile, "… Where exactly is here? And…" he turned to her, "What exactly is here?"

France pulled onto his hand some more, then knelt down at a small patch of grass. It was only then that he saw it: a small, white flower that has yet to bloom.

Green eyes widened, "… Is that-?"

But the young girl shook her head, "No," she whispered, letting go of his hand and caressing the bud gently in her hands, "This isn't like us. This is only a region – a part of us…" she looked up and met his gaze, "A part of you, Spain."

Spain looked confused and knelt down beside her, "H-how?" he started, looking back down at the flower bud, "How do you know?"

"See here?" she gestured to the unopened petals, "You see how they turn pink here near the stem? And do you see how much lighter a kind of green it is?" Spain nodded here, "This is how you know that they aren't like us. Ours are a much purer white – and the leaves and stems of our flowers are lush, dark green." She looked happily at the flower and continued to caress it in her hands, "Based on how beautiful this place is, I would say that this is going to be a very beautiful region,"

Spain could only nod, captivated, "Yeah," he muttered, "… Just like you."

France stopped what she was doing, then blinked twice before she giggled, "Why thank you, Spain," she looked up at the setting sun and sighed, "It's time for me to go, mon ami," she started.

The brunet scowled, "I wish the sun would never set."

She laughed again – oh how nice it was to hear! "That might just be you, Spain."

"Stop that," he said, standing and offering her a hand, "You can stop calling me by my country's name. We're friends right?" he saw her nod to his statement, "My name is Antonio. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."

She practically beamed as she took his hand, "Merci," she said, giving him a small peck on the cheek.

"My name is Francis Bonnefoy."

And without waiting for any form of reply, the young blond left.

X.o.X

The sunlight streamed into the room and Francis groaned – was it morning already? He slowly sat up to find himself in an inn, recalling that he had arrived in his port of destination earlier than usual, "Antonio…" he muttered as he looked down at his own hands, "…I'm sure that it was Antonio."

If there were any supposed arguments to his initial thought, they were all swept aside by a curt knock on the door.

"Captain Francis!"

Brilliant brows furrowed, Francis called out, "Yes, enter."

Immediately, instead of the officer he had allowed, a small, white bird flew into the room and landed on his lap. It chirped happily, before holding out its leg.

"Oh Pierre," Francis worriedly, untying the small roll of parchment before shooing away the bird, "Last time you caught me off guard you gave me bad news."

This time, he wasn't sure how to take it:

Mademoiselle gone. Captain Kirkland. On our way now.

A/N: ... Any requests, though? (No. It will not go back to FrUk. Don't test me.)