Bliss
"The highest level of happiness."
England was confused, France knew, but he did not turn his head. This was not the appropriate time for this conversation, but France was beginning it anyway. The wars they involved themselves in had them as enemies, had them as friends, almost switching so fast that France did not know how he felt like acting, let alone how he was supposed to act. It would be the same in the future.
"What is bliss to you?"
For the moment they were fighting together. It was not going to last long. France was not certain whether he cared. This was normal, this was what happened between the two of them. It was just their way. And either way he would be able to witness England's blood lust, his fighting passion, which sparked something within himself. He did not quite know the word to describe it. It was not good, it was not bad.
"You say to me it is physical."
This fight really had nothing to do with them, but they were here because they needed it to be. Fighting off people that barely affected them for a people who could care less about them. This was the Holy land and they did as they were asked by the Pope. Or was it? Were they just here for the spoils of war, to bring back things which would keep their dwindling kingdoms in some sort of glory? For the victory which would keep their economy going?
"You say to me it is from selfishness."
England was still so young. Growing fast, faster than France ever remembered doing. It made him want to grab him and shake him, make him stop, for the simple reason it was too fast for him. France wanted a single moment to stay still, if just to gather his bearings once more. Not that he would ever admit to such feelings. Not that England would understand them. Which was why he was speaking in English now, if just to pierce the blood which covered England's face.
"But is that not what bliss is?"
He realized the reason England was not responding was because while he might have knocked the Saracen's weapon aside the same had happened to his own, the fideles Sancti Petri now struggled to breath from the grip around his neck. France beheaded him, because he could.
He lifted England back to his feet by pulling on the crux of his front. England's sharp eyes caught on to his own.
"To be truly happy..."
You have to have the selfishness to feel it. And I am. How I am.
Their kiss was all teeth and tongue.
Then they went back to the slaughter.
On the Crusades.
