Alfred's laugh bounced off the walls of the emptying meeting room. "Hahaha! Frank, what a stupid name! Sorry, man, but I gotta laugh every time I hear it!"
Francis ignored the young nation's obnoxious laughter, unlike a few of the nearby countries taking their leave. "The Kingdom of Franks, you mean." He huffed, swatting Alfred's hand from his shoulder. Yet despite his teasing, Francis couldn't help but crack a fond smile and stroke his chin. "Ah, that was a far different time…"
Alfred stuck his tongue out as the other nation began reminiscing. They could go on for ages if nobody stopped them. Meanwhile, Antonio, who was sitting a chair over, hummed his agreement. "No doubt that was another era, mi amigo," the Spaniard said with an honest smile. "A time before you were around causing trouble, Alfred!"
Broken from his memories, Francis chuckled softly as Antonio began to berate the nation who was essentially his rascal of a nephew, the latter tilting his head in amiable confusion. Francis felt his crow's feet crease and his stubble grow gray, but he reached up to feel his smooth, impeccable skin reminding him of his near immortality. It was strange at times. It was unsettling at others. Time seemed to change so quickly in recent years. For how long they as countries had existed, there were memories of the far, far distant past that would eventually be written over by the future. Whether through human history, or by their own hands…
"Gallia?"
Francis blinked and swung his head around. The meeting hall had emptied significantly, and no one had been behind him to utter even a breath. He turned back to Alfred and Antonio, but the two were too occupied with their one-sided spat to have called out to him.
The nation felt the hair on his arms rise.
That name… Gallia. It had dated to before the Franks called his bountiful land home. It had been a time of dreary walls and small windows, of nonstop fighting and betrayal; but also, of a gentle and irreplaceable warmth, one shared between three heads of beautiful blonde hair bound in tousled curls. Or had it been four…
He barely remembered those moments nowadays. Moments of quiet and comfort. A calm infanthood from Rome's empire watched over by her. She had housed the kindest of eyes, fueled by an indispensable wild spirit. Her arms and bosom that he'd shared had been softer than any pillow, and her voice had sung with ballads of warriors and tribes. But it was her hair, the thick golden waves a shade darker than his own, that had been his favorite. If there was anything he remembered about his mother Gaul, it was that she had been the most beautiful. And from Francis, that meant more than the world.
The memory fluttered for a moment, and he panicked, hitching a breath.
A very young Francis, perhaps before he'd met his Iberian brother, curled his blond head into the crook of his mother's neck. Her dress was drab but lovely, and she shifted her position in the creaky chair to shine the window's faint light onto the other figure in her arms. A girl looking a few years younger than himself with marigold curls tinted with hints of ginger and brown. Her own hair reached the same length as her brother, the young Gallia, and her uniquely green eyes glowed with innocence, but also budding resilience. She cuddled up in Gaul's arms while a baby with pale wispy hair slept soundly in a nearby cradle.
Francis felt the name roll off his tongue before he even realized it.
"Belgica…"
"Hm? Francis? Big brother?"
He nearly jumped out of skin at the honey-dripped voice with hints of both Dutch and French. Francis shook his head of the long distant memory, fixing up his hair as he turned to meet his half-sister. "B-Bella! I didn't realize you were still here. I would have thought you'd left with Lars or Abel by now."
"I don't follow them everywhere, you know!" The Belgian woman huffed, placing her hands on her hips as her lips quirked in their usual manner.
Antonio perked up at the sound of Bella's voice. He stopped nitpicking Alfred and leapt over to the Belgian country's side. "Bel-Bel!"
"Toni! Here you are! Lovi and I have been waiting for you since the meeting ended."
The Spaniard smiled guilty, matching his pace out the hall alongside Bella. "Sorry, sorry. Hey, you know I was thinking about making churros tonight…"
Francis stopped listening as Antonio droned on about food and football. Still by the table, Alfred crossed his arms as he grumbled, "Why's he always gotta be so weird and attack me, man?"
Francis chuckled lightly. Yes, Alfred was still such a young country. He doubted if the personification of the United States held any of his own foggy memories, but ultimately Francis couldn't deny the chance. Not if he himself could still remember his own, no matter how deep and long repressed they were. It was doubtful Bella, hell, even Abel, remembered the same, given how young she was back then.
Yes, there was no way she remembered.
"Oh, I almost forgot. Did you need something from me, Francis?"
Francis startled. Bella stopped at the door, Antonio shifting beside her. Her green eyes shone with both question and confidence, and as she tilted her head, her hair gently dropped over her shoulders with the same familiar curls. (Hadn't it been lighter all those ages ago?)
The image of his mother looking down at him with the same curious face flooded back. It was just for a moment, though. Gaul hadn't put a ribbon in her hair. Or been on good terms with Rome. (Spain wasn't Rome. Spain wasn't their father.)
"Ah, no. Have a good evening, Bella, Antonio." Francis gave a feeble wave, trying to hide behind a smile.
Bella smiled, with a casual curtsy, as she followed Antonio out the door.
Francis let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.
But before the door closed, Bella murmured, so softly that Antonio didn't hear. Then the door shut with a final click.
"Goodbye, Gallia."
Francis shivered.
The ancient nation of Gallia Belgica contained Belgium, Luxembourg, and parts of France and the Netherlands. Is this fic historically accurate? I don't know. I didn't really fact check too much. I'm not an ancient history nerd. But I do like characters and piecing together backstories together. Just don't think too hard about historical accuracy, kay? Stick with me a little.
To explain this fic a bit more, France, Belgium, and little baby Luxembourg lived with their mother Gaul when they were very young, hence the past names Gallia (France) and Belgica (Belgium). Not every nation/kingdom/etc. can be/should be their own personification, so the selective changing of names is kinda cool to me. As for good old Netherlands, at this time he would probably be around his father Germania, though unlike the other kids he was more of a loner. Or a castoff. Don't quote me here. Anyway, by the fall of Ancient Gaul, France moves over to live alongside Spain (here's where Rome takes charge of his two initially castoff bastard children) while Belgium and Luxembourg live on their own. Average sad stuff for this generation of nations. (I was more focused on writing a story than history.)
Bella – Belgium
Lars – Netherlands
Abel – Luxembourg
Hope you enjoyed reading this semi-brain dump!
