Francine was almost dragging Alice through the streets of London in her excitement. It had been almost 4 months since she had seen her girlfriend. It was all because of her work. The president had kept her so busy, that she couldn't visit, so now she wanted to make up for it.

"Slow down Fran-cine," Alice called out, almost calling the blue eyed woman France, but fortunately catching herself. Even though the existence of nations was no secret, she didn't want to deal with people right now.

"Come on, Alice, I am just so excited," Francine grinned.

Alice shook her head, "Can't you act your age? You are already in your forties, so don't ac like schoolgirl…"

"Alice!" Francine gasped theatrically, "Don't act so prudish just because right now you are part of nobility…"

Alice resisted rolling her eyes. Her lover was such drama queen. She was no prudish, just well mannered lady.

Francine smiled and leaned closer to Alice to kiss her on lips, but Alice blushed in embarrassment and turned her head, so Francine kissed her cheek.

"N-Not in public," she whispered, quickly looking around.

"But Alice," Francine pouted, "Can't you be a little bit more spontaneous?"

Alice turned around, took Francine's hand and started pulling her away muttering how she is spontaneous enough. She could be spontaneous if she wanted. But also knew what was appropriate and what was not.

Then she suddenly stopped and frowned. Something was off. She couldn't place it, but she felt it.

"What's wrong?" Francine asked softly, seeing Alice's concentrated face.

Then Alice bolted down the street, with Francine hot on her heels. There was a big fight somewhere nearby. She could feel some of her people dying. She had to get there and help, it was her duty as nation of England.

Alice ran straight to the centre of conflict. She didn't even care for the shooting that was going around her. She saw a hurt man and quickly kneeled beside him.

"Are you okay, sir? What happened?" she asked as she assessed his injuries. Which was only small head wound, on which Alice put her handkerchief, hoping it would stop the bleeding until some ambulances come.

"They were holding protest, but some vandals didn't like it and… I am not really sure how it had come to this. Suddenly there were bullets flying everywhere…" said the injured man.

Alice nodded, "Thank you… Everthing is gonna be fine."

Francine dropped on the ground beside Alice. "Don't run off like that!" she hissed.

"You said I should be more spontaneous, so I was!" Alice snapped.

"Not like this," Francine groaned.

Womans shriek cut through air. Alice's head snapped up and saw an injured woman running towards them. She quickly stood up, to help the woman. She didn't even think about what she was doing.

"ALICE!" Francine yelled, jumped and pushed Alice to the ground. Before the English nation could protest, loud bang sounded and Francine screamed in pain as they both fell down.

"F-Francine?" Alice touched Francine's shoulder. The French nation hissed. Alice carefully turned her over and gasped. On Francine's chest was big bloody stain. "Francine!" Alice started panicking. She had to treat Francine's wound quickly or she will die.

Francine smiled softly, "Je t'aime…" She pulled Alice for a kiss. And after that she drew her last breath.

"FRANCINE!" shouted Alice, but it fell on deaf ears.

The Female England started to sob. Francine France Bonnefoy died on 2nd August 1989.

Days after funeral turned into weeks. Alice didn't even notice and it was already 3 weeks after Francine's death. She felt so numb. It was after all her fault that her lover was dead. If she just didn't run into that conflict without thinking. If she was aware of her surroundings. If…

It will take years until she sees those azure eyes again. And even then it won't be the same. They would be decades apart. Alice didn't want that. She didn't want to wait. Maybe more than one lifetime to be able together without the society's disapproval. She wouldn't be able to take it.

"Ya stupid eejit, how long do you think we will wait?!" eight years old Alistair Kirkland banged on the front door of Alice's house.

One of the maids opened up and politely greeted him. It seemed that England was not yet awake. She went to Alice's room. And her shriek drew every single person in the house towards the room.

The scene was almost serene, if it wasn't for the bloody stain in the middle of the bed. Alice's glassed were nicely folded on the nightstand. Her long blond hair flowed around the bed. And her wrists were slit.

Alice England Kirkland died on 28th August 1989.