Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Warning: This chapter contains some violence, you have been warned.

Chapter 10

"You did what?!" Arthur exclaimed, frowning at his lover, who was casually lounging on the sofa in their bedroom, watching Arthur with amusement.

"I invited him over for dinner this evening~" Francis repeated calmly.

"Why?" Arthur snapped, trying to tie his tie but he was so focused on being mad at Francis that his fingers fumbled. Francis rolled his eyes, heaving himself off the sofa and coming over to Arthur, tying his tie for him as he pecked his lips to try and pacify him.

"Because I want to get to know the young man who has my daughter's heart, don't you?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, huffing. "Madeline is only fourteen, she is too young to give her heart to anyone."

Francis raised an eyebrow. "How old were you when you fell in love with me?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes, scowling at his lover, as they both knew he had been thirteen when he properly fell in love with Francis. "Stop comparing our relationship to anything Madeline might have. It's infuriating."

Francis smirked. "You only find it infuriating because you know I'm right, cher." He captured Arthur's lips, kissing him lovingly as he didn't want to fall out with him. Arthur reluctantly kissed back, but he pouted when Francis pulled back so soon.

"But Madeline likes Gilbert, and it only took one look at the young man to know that he would go to great lengths just for her, so they will be together whether we approve of it or not. I would rather not force them to have a secret relationship…"

Arthur met Francis' gaze, contemplating his words. He knew Francis hated keeping their own relationship a secret, but it was that or prison.

He sighed in defeat. "Fine. I will give this boy one chance, but if I don't like him, I cannot help that."

Francis rolled his eyes a little, but nodded, conceding. "Oui, alright."

XxX

Alfred cursed as he fell through his open bedroom window, landing on the polished floor with a thud. He winced, hoping neither Francis nor Arthur would have heard, but when no one came to investigate he grinned, counting it as a victory. He got to his feet, dusting off his expensive clothes before noticing that his shirt was ripped, and he swore again.

Sighing, he closed the window behind him, trudging across his bedroom floor and unlocking his door, before going to his sister's bedroom and rapping his knuckles on the door gently.

"Maddie?" he called, and he heard a soft 'come in, Alfred' in response. He pushed open the door, seeing Madeline sat at her desk studying.

She looked up when Alfred entered, and smiled coyly. "Where have you been?" she asked softly. "Papa was angry that you missed the celebration…"

Alfred shrugged, grinning. "Can you do me a favour?" he asked, deliberately avoiding her question about his whereabouts.

Maddie nodded. "What do you need?"

Alfred showed her his ripped shirt. "If Papa sees, he'll think I was up to no good. And if Father sees…" he trailed off, knowing from experience that Arthur was the stricter parent of the two. Maddie nodded in understanding, standing and fetching her sewing kit.

"I can't give it to the maid – she would tell on me." Alfred reasoned further, as if to convince Madeline that she was his only option, but his sister was already setting to work mending his shirt anyway.

Maddie was quiet as she worked on his shirt, but after a few minutes she looked up at him. "Where have you been, Alfred?" she asked, purely out of curiosity.

Alfred shrugged. "Just…around."

Madeline narrowed her eyes at him. She guessed that Alfred had probably been getting up to mischief with his friends, drinking and doing goodness-knows what else. She could faintly smell alcohol on him, and she wrinkled her nose. "You should bathe before Papa and Father know you're home…"

Alfred blinked but nodded, giving Maddie a sheepish grin. Madeline finished sewing Alfred's shirt, cutting the thread neatly, so that it barely even looked like it had ripped in the first place.

"Thanks, Maddie." Alfred smiled, hugging his sister briefly before rushing back to his bedroom to bathe and change.

Madeline sighed, worried about the reckless behaviour of her brother, but she knew that he was just feeling the need to be rebellious.

XxX

"Ah – Arthur, we don't have time – mmph!" Francis' protests were muffled as Arthur kissed him passionately, having felt teased by Francis' earlier affection and now he wanted to take it further. Francis' protest was half-hearted as he all-too-willingly pulled him closer, kissing him back. Arthur was about to start undressing his French lover when a knock sounded at the door.

Arthur growled in frustration, pulling back and snapping at the closed door. "What?!"

The meek voice of one of the maids was audible on the other side. "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but your son has returned home."

Francis blinked but smiled in relief, pulling back, but Arthur pouted as he had wanted to continue making love to Francis. The Frenchman noted his expression and chuckled, pecking his lips. "There'll be time for that later, cher. For now, I want to know where the hell Alfred has been."

Arthur sighed, nodding, but he couldn't help wishing that Alfred had come home a bit later and hadn't interrupted them.

XxX

Alfred finished bathing, getting dressed in a smart blue suit that brought out his eyes, as his Papa had told him. He made sure to look as dashing as possible, intending to go out again soon. Alfred opened his bedroom door, yelping though as he saw both his parents standing there: Arthur had his arms crossed and his brows furrowed; Francis had his hands on his hips in a rather effeminate manner.

"Whoa – " Alfred began in surprise.

"Just where have you been, young man?" Arthur's tone was stern and reprimanding, scolding the fourteen-year-old.

Francis thought this approach was much too harsh though, and he stepped forward, hugging Alfred quickly. "We were worried about you, mon petit…"

Alfred blinked, patting his Papa on the back awkwardly as he had quickly grown out of showing affection to his parents, much to Francis' disappointment. "Uh – thanks, Papa…"

Arthur scowled at Francis, and the Frenchman sighed but stepped back again, leaving Alfred at the mercy of his English father.

"Alfred, I will ask you again. Where have you been?" Arthur punctuated each word very clearly and firmly, his emerald eyes fierce.

Alfred and Arthur had very similar personalities, which unfortunately meant that they clashed more than they complemented. Now, Alfred's own eyes narrowed in defiance. "Why do you care? I doubt you even noticed I was gone."

Francis' expression betrayed how hurt he felt by Alfred's words, as he cared about the children immensely, but Arthur took the lead, keeping Francis quiet.

"Of course we noticed, how could we miss the absence of your loud-mouthed arrogance?" Arthur retorted, ignoring the look of disapproval Francis gave him.

"Maybe you were too busy working all the time?" Alfred's eyes flashed dangerously as he knew just how to press Arthur's buttons, ignoring Francis' gaze pleading his son not to escalate matters. "Or maybe you were too busy thinking about sticking your cock in Papa to even care whether I was here or not – "

Slap!

Alfred's smug expression was struck off his face by Arthur's firm hand, which slapped him across the cheek hard enough to make it sting, stunning the boy into momentary silence. Francis let out a shriek, his eyes wide in disbelief that Arthur had laid a hand on their son, but Arthur frowned.

"How dare you speak to me like that?!" he raged, his green eyes ablaze with fury.

Alfred blinked, his cheek red from the abuse, but it only ignited his own rage further. "Fuck you! I hate you! I hate both of you!" he screamed, pushing past Arthur and shoving Francis away when he tried to comfort his son. He stormed down the stairs and out of sight, leaving a fuming Englishman and a heartbroken Frenchman in his wake.

Arthur sighed angrily, turning to Francis whom he expected would comfort him, but he was met by an ice cold gaze.

"How dare you…" Francis whispered.

Arthur blinked. "Pardon?"

"How dare you hurt our son!" Francis shouted, but it only reignited Arthur's fury.

"I will NOT be disrespected!" He yelled, loud enough to silence Francis. The Frenchman froze, thinking in that moment that Arthur sounded so much like his father, and Francis began to tremble. But Arthur didn't notice, gritting his teeth as he growled. "I am the master of this house, and I expect to be listened to! You've been getting far too lenient with the children, Francis, and I shall discipline them as I see fit."

Francis was wide-eyed, hardly hearing Arthur's words as his back began to sting with the memory of the abuse he took from Arthur's father, and he only lowered his head as a sign of submission, too afraid to retaliate.

Arthur was still fuming, but Francis' silence made him calm down more quickly, and he sighed, placing a hand on Francis' shoulder, but he frowned in confusion when Francis flinched away from him. The Frenchman's expression had become dark and blank, as if he was in a trance, and his body was stiff and rigid.

"Francis?"

Francis didn't respond, his golden locks hiding half of his face as Arthur tried to speak to him.

Pearce came up the stairs, drawn by all the shouting, but he recognised Francis' trance-like state all too well, having been the one to nurse him after the beatings he had suffered.

Arthur looked up at Pearce, confused and concerned. "What is the matter with him?" he asked cautiously, and Pearce swallowed.

"Master Francis needs to rest, sir…" Pearce began slowly, choosing his words carefully so he would not accidentally reveal something Francis would not want him to. "I shall take him back to his room." Pearce gently held Francis by the shoulders, guiding him back to his bedroom. Francis' feet moved slowly and lethargically, almost as if he was sleep-walking, but he didn't fight Pearce.

Arthur watched them go, more confused than ever, but he assumed Francis was just upset because Arthur had yelled at him, so he went to his study to bury himself in paperwork as he always did after he had argued with someone.

XxX

Pearce sat Francis down on his bed, rubbing his back gently.

"Master Francis?" his voice was gentle and calm, and slowly Francis became more responsive to the familiarity of having Pearce comfort him. When the Frenchman finally came back fully, he was able to recall what had happened, and he burst into tears, sobbing against Pearce's chest.

The butler's usually stern expression softened and he wrapped his arms around Francis, which was unprofessional, but Francis was grateful for it.

"H-He…was just like…h-his…- " Francis tried to explain what had happened, but Pearce had been able to piece together the sequence of events, judging by Alfred's angry departure from the house with a red cheek, the yelling he had heard and then Francis' traumatised state. Pearce rocked Francis gently.

"You know he is better than that, sir. You know he would never hurt you." Pearce reassured softly, but Francis sniffed.

"He hit Alfred – he shouted at me. I-I thought he was going to hit me too…" Francis' voice was meek and shaking, and Pearce knew it had been years since Francis had been in such a state. All he could do was hold the Frenchman until he eventually calmed down, and then he gently laid him down on the bed, pulling the duvet over him.

"Get some rest, sir. You'll feel better for it when you wake up."

Francis whimpered though as Pearce moved to leave him. "N-Non, the nightmares – "

Pearce's eyes softened in understanding, and he fetched Francis a sleeping draught that he kept in Francis' vanity table drawer for when the night terrors would be unbearable, and he administered it to the sobbing Frenchman gently. The butler waited loyally until Francis drifted into a dreamless sleep, before leaving the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

XxX

Francis slept for most of the day, undisturbed by Arthur, who sat in his study and worked, occasionally pouring himself a whiskey to help the guilt he was feeling subside.

As day turned into evening, a brash, confident knock sounded at the door. Pearce answered it to find Gilbert, and he was somewhat startled by the boy's albino appearance, but he did well to hide it. "May I help you, sir?" Pearce asked politely enough.

"Uh – Mr Bonnefoy invited me over for dinner this evening." Gilbert tried to sound confident, but there was a slight off feeling about the house, as if there had been some sort of negative event. Pearce nodded, leading him to the library.

"Wait here, I will rouse Master Francis." Pearce left Gilbert to his own devices in the library, going upstairs to Francis' bedroom and knocking on the door. He received no response, which he expected, so he opened the door and went over to the bed, gently holding Francis' shoulders and shaking him to wake him up.

"Master Francis…" the butler called softly, and Francis let out a soft groan, slowly regaining consciousness. He opened his cerulean eyes, blinking owlishly up at Pearce for a moment.

"Hmm…what is it, Pearce?" he asked groggily, sitting up slowly.

"Mr Bielschmidt is here for dinner." Pearce replied, placing a glass of water in Francis' hand.

Francis mumbled thanks, sipping the water as he woke up more, before nodding. "How does he look?"

"Pardon, sir?"

"His clothes – does he look presentable?" Francis stretched, dragging himself out of bed, but the sleeping draught had made him very groggy and he badly wanted to go back to sleep.

"He looks…scruffy, sir." Pearce admitted.

Francis nodded. "Send him to me. I want to make sure he looks presentable enough to win Arthur over tonight."

Pearce inclined his head respectfully. "Right away, sir." He turned on his heel, leaving Francis to dress and make himself more presentable before Gilbert came up.

Francis sighed to himself, slowly remembering what had happened before Pearce gave him the sleeping draught, and his heart ached. But when he heard Gilbert knock on the door, he forced a smile and turned to face him.

"Gilbert! How good it is to see you~" he greeted happily, forgoing Gilbert's extended hand in favour of hugging him instead and kissing both cheeks. He chuckled at Gilbert's shocked expression.

"If you are to be part of this family, you will have to grow used to my affection, I'm afraid~" Francis warned in amusement, but Gilbert smiled, blushing faintly.

"I see – why have you called me up here, sir?" Gilbert asked, a little nervous.

Francis only smiled. "I merely wanted to make sure your attire was suitable for this evening." He noted Gilbert's shabby-looking formal clothes, sympathising that the young man was poor and could not afford as nice clothes as Francis could. He gestured to a couple of his own outfits that he had carefully selected.

"You may wear some of my clothes for this evening. Or some of Arthur's, if mine are too large on you."

Gilbert glanced at the outfits somewhat nervously, unsure what to make of the almost too-kind Frenchman. But Francis' smile showed he bore no ill will, and the albino young man chose one of Francis' outfits, not wanting to wear the clothing of a man who had yet to approve of him. Besides, Gilbert was shorter than Francis but he was rather muscular due to his manual labour, and so the outfit fit him rather well.

Francis smiled as Gilbert emerged from behind the folding screen, looking like a ward rather than a blacksmith's apprentice. Francis beamed, clearly very pleased.

"You look truly dashing, Gilbert~" he complimented, straightening Gilbert's tie and smoothing down his hair with gentle, slender fingers. Gilbert allowed him to do as he pleased, knowing that from the way Francis looked, he certainly knew what he was doing.

The German caught sight of himself in the mirror, blinking and then widening his eyes as he hardly recognised himself. The outfit Francis had chosen for him was crimson, much like his eyes, the red jacket cut nicely over a white shirt with ruffles, tucked into dark trousers. Francis hummed softly, before gasping.

"Oh – I have something to complete the outfit!" he declared, crossing the room to his vanity table and rummaging through a delicate silver jewellery box until he found a garnet broach, one that Arthur had gifted him a few years ago. He smiled, gently pinning it against Gilbert's shirt, pleased as he stepped back to admire him.

Gilbert smiled softly, thanking him, but he suddenly felt nervous, like an imposter in such lavish clothing in a rich household.

Francis noticed his hesitation. "Gilbert? Are you alright?" he asked kindly.

Gilbert blinked, but nodded. "J-Ja, I just – you mentioned the Master of the House earlier…what will he think of me?" Gilbert was a man who rarely lacked confidence, but he was desperate for Madeline's parents to like him, which made him more self-conscious.

Francis only smiled. "Arthur is unfortunately a very stubborn man, and he is very protective of Madeline, as am I. However, if he sees that you truly care for her and will look after her, then I hope he will warm to you."

This response did not exactly elicit hope in Gilbert or calm his nerves, but before he could reply, Pearce was at the door.

"Sorry to interrupt you, sir. But dinner is served."

Francis smiled, nodding. "Bien~ Merci, Pearce. We shall be down in a minute."

"Very good, sir." The butler inclined his head respectfully, leaving back down the corridor.

Francis smiled, checking his own appearance in the mirror, before humming and walking to the door. "Shall we?" He turned back to Gilbert, inviting him to walk beside the Frenchman.

Gilbert grinned, regaining some of his confident air. "Ja, of course." He caught up with him, and the German and Frenchman went down the stairs together, both of them secretly bracing themselves for the encounter ahead.

A/N: ooh so the dinner scene is next, what do you think will happen? Will Arthur accept Gilbert? And what will Alfred think of it, as Maddie's overprotective brother? And also, what do you think of the strains on Arthur and Francis' relationship? Please review and let me know what you think!