Characters/Pairings: FrancexJeanne and FrancexCanada
Rating: G
Warning: None for this chapter
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

Francis could see the thick smoke billowing from a pyre and he felt his heart clench in anticipation. No. They couldn't do that to her. They couldn't. Arthur wouldn't do something that terrible.

France couldn't even convince himself.

The man took off, digging his heels into his horse and took of at a canter before urging his horse into an even faster gallop. Deep down he already knew that she was dead. He was given the news that she was being burned at the stake over a week ago and it had taken him this long to get here. This fire was just to get rid of the body.

France felt the tears fight their way to his eyes and he kicked the horse again, snapping the rains and leaning over the horses flowing mane. By the time he skidded to a stop before the burning embers there was almost nothing left of the wood let alone a body. France leapt of his horse and collapsed to his knees before the ashes, his hands hugging his body and his shoulders shaking with unchecked sobs.

He was at a sheer loss for words, tears flowing down his face and his body curled up almost in half, the grief racking through his body in painful waves.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~

England and France exchanged blows, swords sparking with the effort and their muscles rippling from the force of the strikes. Usually, England could beat France with one hand tied behind his back, however today France fought with intent to kill. England had a pretty good idea why.

"Francis. Stop this for one moment" England growled through gritted teeth as they came to yet another stand still. France panted heavily and his eyes narrowed at the man before him.

"Why should I, Angleterre?" France managed to put more venom into that single word than England could have thought possible and even made the short haired man flinch. Francis took this momentary lapse in England's concentration and attacked, running hard at England and raising his sword.

"Because I have something I think Jeanne wanted you to have," England said loudly. Now that got France's attention. The wide-eyed man nearly dropped his sword when England blocked and for many reasons he quite resembled a fish. Arthur would have laughed had the situation been less serious than it was.

"This better not be some damn trick," France growled, shifting his weight back but keeping his weapon at the ready. Instead of responding, England fished through one of the small bags attached to his belt. What he pulled out had France in tears. Albeit not the heavy uncontrollable sobs he let out in private but there was moisture nonetheless.

The light caught off the extremely plain silver cross dangling from a thin woven string. England held the necklace's string tightly in one hand, leaving the medallion to hang so France could see it.

"I'm so sorry"

This time, it was Arthur's turn to cry.

France, of course, shared none of these very personal memories with the person sitting beside him. However, when Matthew looked up from his hands folded neatly in his lap to find out just why France hadn't answered him yet he was shocked to find France crying. The older mans shoulders shook lightly with the effort to keep himself quiet but the letting the tears flow unrestricted. One of his hands clenched tightly around the necklace. His fist so tight that the silver left a deep grove in Frances hand and Canada could almost swear he saw blood.

Canada's eyes widened and he hesitated momentarily, his body and mind unsure of what to do and instead doing nothing. Thankfully, Kumajirou came to his rescue and shifted over the table to lick at France's tears. Not really going for comfort rather than the saltiness from them.

"I'm sorry. I seem to have gotten lost in the memories" France let out a small chuckle and held his unwounded hand to Kumajirou's side, stroking the bear's fur lovingly. He used the knuckle of his other hand and brushed away the remaining tears.

"This Wednesday is the anniversary of the day Jeanne d'arc was ruthlessly murdered" France said gently, a new resolve in his voice. He had done his grieving, surprised that he had even allowed Matthew to see him so vulnerable. He did have feelings for the boy, even if he refused to let himself realize his feelings.

The thing was, he felt like he would be betraying Jeanne's memory. Making it seem like he had moved on and cared for Matthew more than he cared for her. Almost as if…as if…he'd forgotten about her.

"I'm sorry Matthew but I have to go" He said in a thicker than usually accent before rising to his feet gently and brushing off his hands on his pants. His one hand leaving a small trail of blood, though France took no notice of the fresh stain. Matthew found himself at a loss for words yet again and just nodded. Francis turned his back and laid a hand on the door handle, a deep sigh passing his lips.

"Francis wait!" Matthew finally found his voice. As soon as France turned around to look at the Canadian he was tackle hugged. There was no other way to put it as Matthew hung around the elder man's neck and buried his face in his arms.

"Matthew…what are you-"

"I'm sorry. I know I'm being stupid but I'm sorry, I should have known" Matthew cut the other man off, his face hidden in the crook of Francis' neck and a small hiccup covering a sob. France was stunned. He couldn't even react to the sudden burst of affection from the normally shy Canadian. Something, quite unlike the French man.

"I-It's quite alright Matthew. Do not worry your head over me" Francis finally managed to say as he ran his hand through Canada's silken blond locks. Matthew blushed deeply, puling back reluctantly and meeting eyes with the object of his secret affection.

The two stood in silence, gaze locked but neither betraying secret emotions for very different reasons. Finally Frances broke the gaze and looked over at Kumajirou who was doing a summersault on the floor, obviously bored with the two males talk.

"I'll see you at tomorrow's meeting" Francis finally said turning back to Matthew and finding Canada's gaze still locked on his face. Matthew blushed deeply when he found himself caught and averted his gaze. The elder nation couldn't help but smile at Matthew's blush. He honestly couldn't help but feel at peace…at least for now.