This fanfic is based on a story I wrote a couple of years ago. For a long time, I wanted to rewrite it, and now here I am. English is my second language, sorry if there are grammar mistakes.

A marriage proposal

01

"Do you marry me?"

The question abandoned Francis' lips so suddenly that Arthur forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. He looked to the man in front of him, with his back straight and his blue eyes paying attention to Arthur's facial expression. His brain processed the words carefully, trying to evaluate what kind of prank Francis was playing. He did not give him the satisfaction of examining him as an experiment in a laboratory. His face was cold and even disgusted by his guest's insolence.

"Did you hit your head again?" Arthur said, deciding the best answer was another question. He left his empty cup of tea on his desk. The traffic's sounds from the windows interrupted the wave of the conversation. Previously, he had opened the windows blinds to welcome the sunshine in the morning. The weather was good today, but Francis had ruined the day with his visit.

The last time Francis asked the same, Arthur's office was in another house he had sold ten years ago. He had decided to purchase a small apartment in London while keeping the other homes within his territory's borders. He replaced the furniture, even the shelves, and the desk. Although Arthur kept a couple of things. They were objects that still had value in his memory.

He remembered Francis dressed in second-hand clothes and with a sad expression. Arthur knew the conditions that led Francis to humiliate himself in front of his old enemy. No one was surprised when Arthur refused his nonsense without giving it a second thought.

"You have become deaf with the years," Francis said. He left out an affected sigh like he was an actor practicing for his next scene. "I am proposing to you. In other words, getting married. You and me."

Arthur knew he would lament his curiosity.

"And why are you proposing to me?"

"For personal reasons," Francis replied.

Arthur raised an eyebrow while he observed his guest carefully, forgetting his manner. He did not need to be a gentleman with Francis. He decided Francis did not look in bad shape. Even if people ask somebody else and not him, the person would admit Francis looked more handsome than ever. His clothes were too expensive for his tastes, an insubstantial waste, but he liked the perfume Francis had chosen this time. Francis did not resemble the miserable country from years ago, desperate to sign the marriage's papers.

"If your empty head pretends we marry each other, you understand I need to know everything about your personal affairs," Arthur said. He would regret to follow the farce later. 'What are you doing?' he asked himself. Part of him wanted to run away from his own home and take shelter in the closest pub. The other part, the one with the curiosity, wanted to keep holding a knife against his neck. "What is the problem with you?"

"I just think," Francis said, and Arthur knew he was doing the same: avoiding to answer directly, taking the conversation to other places. "Both of us will benefit from marriage. I do not need to marry urgently, but in those circumstances, if we are together…"

"You have Ludwig," Arthur interrupted.

"It is not the same. I don't need to marry Ludwig."

"And why do you need to marry me?"

"I already said it is beneficial for both." Francis insisted. He bent backward on his chair like he was trying to breathe deeply to clear the tension emanating from Arthur. He left uncovered part of his neck, and even that simple movement stole the attention from anything else. "Don't get me wrong. I don't adore the idea. I didn't wake up this morning thinking today is a good day to marry that bastard. But it can be a good decision. Maybe. My boss…"

"So, it is your boss' idea." Arthur almost spilled the words. Francis' chatter had been as a punch in his guts. He imagined himself opening the window, taking Francis by his shirt, and throwing him from the third floor. Nothing will happen, he would survive, but the fall would hurt.

'You can not solve everything with him using violence.' His conscience talked to him with a voice that mixed all his past bosses since 1904—instead, Arthur outlined a faint smile, a mere caricature that everyone would have feared. Francis seems to have expected that reaction.

"It is my boss' idea," Francis said. "The official proposal will arrive soon, I guess. I don't love it. You are the last one with whom I would want to marry. I am not made for marriage, and you neither. I know you, Arthur. But it is a necessary evil. Once you read the proposal, once you understand the benefits, you will buy me a ring, the most beautiful ring according to you, and I will tell you that no, I do not want that ring, because I am sure it would be the ugliest one. Or a cheap one, a terrible ring, like something from a thrift store. You will argue to me, "we need to save money." You will tell me, "it does not matter. You don't deserve it." You will…

"Get out," Arthur said.

Usually, Francis would ignore his complaints and continue doing whatever stuff he wanted, but this time, he seemed to understand the threat behind Arthur's voice. "And next time you come to me with such nonsense, I will not care about the consequences. I will make you pay."

Francis did not argue anything against the warning and left the office silently. Arthur was not sure if Francis had left the house or decided to be quiet in a kind of peace treaty. He did not go away from his office to find out. Instead, with his head spinning with thousands of thoughts and zero certainty, he went to the bar that he kept in a corner, close to a shelf full of books and memories. He took the closet bottle in his hands and poured a drink.

Arthur almost reached the top of a table the last time Francis came to visit him. The memory was fresh in his head because Francis went out of his way to comment on how childish he looked, how short he was, the red of his cheeks every time he was embarrassed, and his little knowledge about what they were.

About what they would become with the years.

Francis talked like he possessed all the knowledge in the world. When he opened his mouth, the people around him went silent and listened to him like a bard singing in the court. Arthur imitated the rest of the people at first, and then, when questioning the reason behind that behavior with Francis, he concluded Francis enchanted people with arts different from sorcery.

How many months passed since the last time? Five, six? Francis excused himself, explaining he was taking care of his territory and his neighbors, leading the rest of the young nations by the right path. He mentioned a guy called Antonio a couple of times, with love almost overflowing his mouth. He talked about some twins that he started to call little brothers too. Francis did not have siblings, and maybe that was why he was desperate to have them. Arthur knew Francis did not miss anything.

"Oh?" Francis said, with a concerned gesture, when he saw Arthur finally.

Arthur gave him a proud smile. He had grown in the last months. Francis did not have motives to call him caterpillar again while looking down on him. Now, they almost had the same height. He was not a child anymore (his brothers grew up too, but that was a problem for another day). Francis could not think of him as a child anymore.

"So?" Arthur said, enjoying he left Francis out of words.

Francis blinked like he did not understand the question.

"So what?" Francis asked, and he managed to still look down on him like nothing had changed. "Are you talking about your clothes? They are terrible. I have told you before you would look better dressed like me. You look like a cupbearer instead of, you know, someone important. But it is too late now, I am afraid.

Arthur's cheeks became red as the wine served a couple of tables away. 'Moron,' he thought, wanting to throw out some wine on his head, take him by the hair, and clean the dining table using his pretty face. He could not solve these conflicts by biting and punching anymore. His boss had mentioned the word diplomacy, and Arthur had promised he would use it more often.

It was not easy.

Before Francis suspected the danger around him, he changed the conversation and asked Arthur to go for a walk. He said it was important to evaluate the wellness of the cities and the people. Arthur thought it was an excuse, so people could see him and treat him like an important person. At least, people would detail his clothes and try to replicate them from now on.

Arthur breathed deeply, and he accepted the idea, thinking a walk will help to calm him. Or, at least, he could run away when the impulse to kick him to the floor became out of control. Finally, there was no reason to act like Arthur was less valuable than him, and yet, Francis managed to make him feel like a child.

They wandered the closest town, trying to blend between the people. It was useless. Their clothes were too clean and delicate, even Arthur's, which was not careful with them when he practiced with the sword or the bow.

Francis adored the interest they woke in the people. He approached them to talk about their lives, paying so much attention that Arthur had started to think Francis wrote songs about them when he was alone. A baker gave them two fresh pieces of bread, and Francis acted like it was the most wonderful gift in the world. On the other hand, Arthur mumbled a thank you and looked away, eating in silence. They went around different stores and discovered a couple walked so close their shoulders touched each other.

"It is so beautiful," Francis said, with a dreaming air in his face.

"What?"

"Them." Francis pointed to the couple. "They are married, of course. They will live together until death sets them apart."

"There was an outbreak recently. If this couple is not careful, they will be dead soon," Arthur said, wanting to maintain the conversation on familiar grounds.

"But do you think it is beautiful?" Francis insisted. He had sat too close to him, and now, their shoulders touched like the couple. Arthur did not move away.

"It is practical," Arthur said. "Married couples can work more. The man has an assistant, in other words."

"I am talking about love," Francis started to treat him like a child, not like his equal.

"Is that thing you mention in your stupid songs?" Arthur asked.

"All the good stories started with love," Francis said, and Arthur rolled his eyes, wanting terribly to throw bugs on his hair just to see if Francis kept talking nonsense. "But I am not going to lie about the benefits of being married. A marriage brings strength to people."

"I guess," Arthur said. He wished to give something important to the conversation that showed he was smarter than Francis. "If a marriage brings strength, why do people like us not marry more often?"

"What a magnificent remark!" Francis said. Arthur hated the satisfied feeling the compliment had on him. "Without a doubt, people like you should marry. You must choose somebody strong and intelligent. If I was you, I would talk with my boss, study my prospects and choose the best option.

"Yes?" Later, Arthur wanted to bite his tongue, but he could not hold back at that moment. "Like marrying you?"

Francis gave him a radiant smile, and for a second, he thought Francis was happy with the idea. Then, Arthur recognized the smirk on his face.

"I will never be an option," Francis said. "Marriage only works for small nations like you. I am bigger and more important. I will not win anything if I marry somebody. On the contrary, another would benefit from me, and I will never give that much power to anyone else."

Arthur did not remember much about that day, only that later, he pushed Francis to a mud puddle that smelled like cow dung and then claimed it was an accident. Even when Francis yelled at him crying, Arthur did not feel good with himself.

He decided marriage will never be an option for a nation like him. He will become a powerful nation by his own means.

And Francis would pay every word he said.

Arthur went out of his office past midday, with his hungry stomach roaring and resenting the early cup of alcohol. He decided to blame Francis for his circumstances. After the first drink, the memory had awakened in him, tasting its sour and sweet savor like revenge.

Francis had not looked more than twelve years old, and Arthur seemed like a boy desperate for proving to the world he was stronger than his siblings and neighbors. He finally won after decades of torment, and every time he drank, he repeated his memories like a penance.

He felt like a complete idiot. He had been the first to pronounce the proposal, but he was not entirely serious. It was an innocent proposal that he said to Francis because he did not have more company. It had been a mere example. If he would have been with… with… Arthur tried to think of another country that would have served as an example, but no one appeared in his mind. It was mortified to think about repeating the talking with Portugal, Spain, or Prussia.

In the end, Francis was right. Arthur proved it with sweat, efforts, and blood. He still remembered how other weak children raised their voices in rebellion, throwing the tyrant from the pedestal, and obtaining freedom. Arthur had become powerful, so powerful that he believed once the world was his.

But, despite his power, Francis remained unreachable.

Maybe it was the alcohol running through his blood, perhaps it was the humiliation he suffered by Francis ages ago, or an insane and terrifying idea in the corner of his brain, but he craved for celebrating his triumphs. He did not need anyone. He would never need the help of others. And, what about Francis? How had he ended? With how many had he talked about a desperate marriage proposal?

He took his phone and made a call.

Thanks for reading!