Paris
"Okay, hold still- and stop complaining about the weather!" I chastised Matt, who was indeed shivering constantly due to the February snowfall, despite standing intimately close to Maddie, who in comparison, happily posed for the camera. Hey, it was his fault for not packing anything warmer!
The shutter of my dated camera clicked, and Matt exasperatedly groaned in relief, as he sought-after a heated café. I honestly don't know why I agreed to let Matt and Maddie come with me to Paris, all they've done is slowed me down. But I couldn't leave them either, for obvious reasons.
So far, we've visited the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe and the Notre-Dame Cathedral. But neither of us have caught wind of France's house. I remember Papa said he lived in Paris, his capital, and told me to come as soon as possible. Alas, we can't find him.
"Hey Matthew, what kind of house are we looking for? Didn't Francis say he lived in a really big, Medieval manor?" Maddie reminded, a questioning tone in her otherwise all-knowing voice. She has a point...
"Well, what do you know, it's already five in the afternoon! We'll take one more route, and if we still can't find him, I'm booking a hotel room!" Matt griped sarcastically, using dramatized hand gestures to complete the whole complaint.
Ten minutes later, Matt finally led us in the right direction, stopping in front of the same house Maddie depicted. Matt threw us a triumphant look before ringing the doorbell. And, by all the bubbly laughter converging from the drawing room of the house, we all knew this was the right one.
We were greeted by an ornery-looking butler, who's ancient form and senile gaze stated he wasn't going to be a butler for much longer. With shifty eyes, he analysed our almost perfectly symmetrical beings, before clearing his throat.
"Master Francis will only accept visits from family and friends, no foreign troglodytes allowed!" The old man concluded, nearing his chance to kick us out, before the familiar, intoxicating smell of cheese wafted to our noses.
"There will be none of zat, Louie, Matthieu 'appens to be my son!" Francis scolded the confused butler. After a long processing thought, the butler named 'Louie' gave a deep bow.
"My sincere apologies, Sir Matthieu. Please, make yourself comfortable. Your friends may enter as well." The butler murmured, before clearing our direct path into the hallway.
With France's guidance, we followed him through the ornately-decorated rooms, introducing each one before heading to the drawing room. My guess was right, a gaggle of young, French women clustered around a hardwood coffee table, lounging on sofas and feeding themselves dainty shortcakes and croissants.
As if mechanically, all of them rushed to France's side in a flurry of skirts and sea of squeals. Matt was casually walking around the group, checking each girl out. Soon before he could blurt out a pick-up line, Maddie slugged him in the arm.
"Filles, filles, settle down! Zis is my son, Matthieu." My Papa always happened to have a group of girls following him every time I saw him, even when I was but a child. A honey-skinned girl gave me a suggestive wink, and I tried my absolute best not to blush.
I cleared my throat and tapped my preoccupied Papa on the shoulder, "Uh, Francis? I didn't just come here for personnel gain, you know! I need answers that only you can give."
France nodded and turned his attention to his hoard of fangirls, "I am so sorry, mon chères! Perhaps another time, another place? Au revoir~!" With a collective groan, Louie escorted the women out the room like a shepard controlling his sheep. I still had to drag Francis away from the door frame, I knew he longed for more companionship...
Matt closed the door, and I sat across from my father on one of the antique, faded-leather couches. I wasn't very comfortable, unlike the modern futon inside the GP office, the memory itself was already slipping from my mind as if the visit took place years ago.
Before I could even begin my little 'interrogation', France was already firing off his sets of questions like there was no tomorrow.
"So, mon fils, 'ow are you? The weather isn't very good, I can see your friend doesn't look all zat warm. But anyway, 'ow is ze rest of ze family? I'm guessing Angleterre is still furious, no? I've been meaning to ask, 'ave you found yourself a nice mademoiselle yet? Or do you play for ze other team, if you know what I mean? Which is totally fine, boys your age are allowed to experiment! I 'ave done so myself on many occasions!"
Matt had cupped his hands over Maddie's ears long before Francis started talking, and I was sitting there praying for my Papa to stop! It always fascinated me on how Matt's personality changes from a reckless delinquent to a responsible 'big-brother' figure whenever he's around Maddie. I'd never say it out loud, I fear I'd be pounded into nothing and I'm not planning on dying any time soon!
Drowning out my father's lecture on the 'birds and the bees', I took a better look around the room. The squarish, small room didn't make much of a difference to it's coziness, the peeling wallpaper revealed cracked, weathered walls that had stood the test of time. The antique furniture dated back to the 18th Century, as well as the ceiling-high doors leading out to on of the numerous balconies dotting the houses' outside shell.
"Francis," I raised my voice, catching the blond off-guard. Finally getting his attention, I started with my first question, the one most confusing to me, "Do you know of a Marianne Bonnefoy, by any chance? I bumped into her a week back and she said she knew you."
The corners of France's mouth turned up -as if trying to hold back a laugh- before he gave his correction, "Oh, Matthieu! She is me! She's my female counterpart!" Maddie and Matt couldn't help themselves, as they chuckled on either side of me. In a way, I'm relived...and disappointed. Another unsolved mystery...
I wanted to smirk at my stupidity, but I kept my serious-face on, and continued, "For a second I thought she was my mother-..."
France lost it there. He exploded into fits of laughter, tears rolling down the apples of his beaming cheeks. Maddie and Matt joined in, clutching their bellies. Embarrassment filled every square-inch of my body, my face red like a tomato. I cleared my throat again in an attempt to whip some sense into them.
"Yes, well, I guess it is pretty funny, now can you please listen to me!" I exclaimed, soon they all stopped and pulled themselves together, looking at me attentively. I sighed, relived, and fired off my next question.
"Regarding Marianne, she gave me this pendant that held dear memories to you..." I resumed, reaching deep into my coat pocket.
Buzz, buzz...buzz, buzz!
My phone? Who'd be messaging me? I already told everyone I was going abroad and that I wouldn't check any messages. Reaching into my other pocket, I checked my outdated, flip-mobile. The sender ID gave me butterflies and a fluttery heart.
Gilbert?
The flourishing red blush crept across my cheeks the more I read, my heart hammering into my ribcage.
Hey there, Mattie!
Valentine's Day is coming up, and I was
hoping that we could maybe spend the day
together! I mean, who could resist a
date with the awesome Prussia?
D-Did I just say date? I-I mean I...I
just- I'm gonna go now!
L8ER, Maple!
Prussia xx
I smiled at the nickname he came up with, he's been calling me that for a few months now. Now that I think about it; the occasional note-passing during the World Conferences, the regular weekend visits, and the constant tell-tale signs. But does Gilbert really love me, let alone like me in that way?!
I mean, I like him perfectly as a friend! Besides, he's always so self-endorsed, and loud, and passionate, and most defiantly ho- No, no, no! I-I don't like him in that way!
...Okay, it's just a little crush, no big deal...
"Just a little crush?" Matt and Maddie elaborated mentally on what I just said. "Okay, okay, a bit more than a little...Happy now?" I snapped back, a knowing look on my alternative-selves' faces, as they simultaneously high-fived.
Francis plastered a puzzled look on his face, exactly like England did. I shook my head and quickly replied without attracting any unneeded questioning from my Papa.
Hey, Gil!
Sure, I'm free on the 14th, would you like to
come to my place? I can make pancakes if
you want! Right now I'm in Paris, I'll be back
soon!
Cya, East!
Canada xxo
"Sent," I whispered to myself, smiling at the nickname the Prussian found quite ironic, but cute at the same time. But France overheard my content sigh and smirked knowingly.
"U-Uh Papa, could I use your library for a bit? Just a bit curious...s'il vous plaît?" I rushed my words before clenching Matt and Maddie's wrists and had Louie escort us to the home library, without waiting for an answer. For good measure, I slammed the door closed with my foot.
France blinked a few times, still amidst the confusion he just experienced, but his expression softened to a smile. Pouring himself a glass of scarlet Bordeaux before taking a sip, he chuckled at Matthew's ways.
"Young love..."
~•XxXxX•~
"It says here that in 1431, May 30th, Jehanne d'Arc was burned at the stake as ordered by the English. Apparently, she was given orders from God to lead the French soldiers during the Hundred Years' War..." I mused to myself, skimming pages that belonged to the twenty-seventh book I had scrawled around the desk I sat at. Matt and Maddie had already gone to bed hours ago, once the sun dipped below the sky.
The library looked like it came right out of a fairy-tale, with towering grand-stairwells leading to the second floor where I was situated. Mahogany desks and wax candle chandeliers clustered around high bookshelves that didn't even begin to reach the domed-ceiling. The luxuries of France's home compared to mine made me feel out-of-place, a peasant.
I had scoured all the shelves for answers, to get a better understanding of France's past. But all I've found is general knowledge, until I found this. This book may open up a whole new window into my father's past.
"Also, her personnel belongings were burnt along with her. Including the jewelry she wore on her neck-..." I stopped short at the picture smack-dab in the middle of Old French text.
A blue and gold...fluer-de-lis...
"The same one...," I pulled out the necklace in my pocket to compare the similarities, turning it over in the dim light, "But if Jehanne was just a person, and not a country...why was she so important to Francis?"
A cool draft caught my attention. No windows are open, and this room is far too old to have any ACs installed...
Despite the deprivation of light, I could make out the faint outline of a human behind me on top of the bookshelf behind me. I must be out of it, too many sleepless nights.
Before I could question my sense of right and wrong, a heavy hard-backed book fell from above and knocked me off my chair. Okay, I wasn't crazy, this was attempted murder!
A warm liquid wet the crown of my head and dripped down my neck. If my coordination wasn't totally ruined by a fallen book, I'd reach to my neck to scrutinize over exactly what dripped from my head that defiantly wasn't black ink.
Before my eyes dared to close, a sullen male plunged a syringe into my tensed arm, I didn't have enough energy to stifle a scream of pain. Ominous plum-colored liquid flowed into my bloodstream, and another hallucinatory flashback flashed before my eyes.
"Sweet nightmares, mon ange." A familiar Frenchman growled sarcastically, before I slipped into the world of no-return.
Fat...her?
~•~
Church bells tolled into the crisp, Autumn morning, sending it's deathly wrath to all four-corners of the world. A black casket was lowered into the ground, as people around me wept and recited depressing hymns that made want to slit your wrists.
A funeral...but who's?
Looking down at my fitted tux and tallness, I was older in this flashback than my last. Francis' bloodshot eyes ringed with tears followed the casket down as it descended into hell, his bottom lip quivered violently.
Alfred sat on my other side, fidgeting in his seat and looking around restlessly, he was still too young to know what was going on.
"—Jehanne was a loving wife and mother, even if she died so young, she loved her infant more than any other mother. May she find her new life in heaven, and she shall become one with The Lord. Rest in Peace." The priest finished his prayer and stepped down from the altar.
I then realized that no other countries were at the funeral, only the three of us. Everyone else was human. No Allies, no Axis...no England...
France turned to me and smiled, his puffed-up eyes managed to smile as well, "Your mother truly loved you, Matthieu. Some day you will understand the sacrifice she made."
And with that, France picked me and America up, and brought us to the headstone of my dead mother.
Jehanne...d'Archille...
After what felt like a lifetime just passed, France put us down and took us hand-in-hand. One last glance over my shoulder still wasn't enough to convince me that she really wasn't Jehanne d'Arc. The necklace, that lay in substitution to flowers, said it all.
No...no it can't be! It doesn't add up! She can't be my mother!
...Can't she?
~•~
"Matthieu, Matthieu!" I found my father shaking my now conscious body, he had obviously gotten worried and started looking for me.
"Jehanne...mother...–Wait, how long was I out for? Where are the others?" I was still groggy from the flashback, but I still attempted to survey my surroundings. No syringe and no book.
And then I realized that my head had split because of the book. I felt around, and winced as I got to the top. No more bleeding, but still excruciatingly painful!
A sigh of relief escaped from my Papa's lips, glad that his son was alive, "Well, I only found you 'ere five minutes ago...But ze time now is ten-thirty in the morning."
Shit, I was out for that long?!
The effect of the drug had completely worn off, but the concussion was just taking effect. Bile rose up my throat, and my head felt like it was about to burst. Swallowing hard, I grimaced as a result.
"Maybe you should lie down, chèr. I'll get Louie to call ze doctor for you...You may need to stay a little longer than planned!"
"But...but Arthur! Won't he be...–"
"Mad? Worried? Of coarse, Matthieu! But right now, your well-being matters ze most!"
He had me there, so I accepted the fact that I would have to stay here for a lot longer than planned.
Still, who was that man...
...And which woman was my mother, d'Arc or d'Archille?
God, I just don't know anymore!
Translations:
• Matthieu = the French way of saying Matthew :/
• Filles = Girls, ladies, etc.
• Mon chères / Mon chèr = My dears / My dear
• Au revoir = Goodbye, So long, etc.
• Mon fils = My son
• Angleterre = England
• Mademoiselle = Madame, lady, etc.
• Mon ange = My angel
Yep, PruCan added for my friend's enjoyment! Your welcome, Maggie!
Tune in next time for 'Chapter Six'*!
Bye!
P.S. I'm not adding names, because usually I don't come up with them straight away!