France x Joan of Arc/FrUK (They're combined in one chapter because A, they're easy to combine, and B, I wanted to. So there!)
England stared into the Frenchman's eyes. The two had always been rivals, but it had always been a mostly one-sided rivalry, with England bearing most of the anger and France sticking to teasing. Now the Englishman realized he had never seen France truly angry.
"Why?!" the blond nation screamed, fire in his eyes. "You were beaten! You couldn't just admit defeat like a human being?!" England opened his mouth to retort - and France slapped him. "Of course not. You had to murder her, just out of spite, just like the prick you are." Francis was crying, and for some inexplicable reason there was a stiff feeling behind his own eyes. England blinked repeatedly. Anger rose up in him. How dare the frog make him feel this way! "What is wrong with you?" he spat. "You do nothing but make my life a nightmare!"
France glanced behind him, to where the Seine flowed far below. His mouth twisted bitterly. "You can wake up now." And he hurled himself backwards.
England's body moved before he was aware of it. He gasped as as the icy cold water hit him, inhaled river water - and the world went black.