FrUK

A.N.: Hi, I am watching Mr. Popper's Penguins with my sister! It is so cute.

-Arthur's POV-

My eyes shot open; I sprang up and went over to my horse modestly.

"Arthur, wait!" I heard behind me.

"Yah!" I shook the reins.

I was so confused, what was this? I just met the young prince, and he plays with my hair? Maybe I was overreacting. Yeah that was it.

"Whoa, girl," I pulled back on the reins this time and turned back to Francis. "I'm sorry."

"No, you shouldn't be, it was all my fault." He said kindly bowing his head in shame.

I got my horse to the same speed as Francis' and jumped skillfully onto the back of his horse.

"What are you doing, Arthur?" He asked genuinely curious.

"Showing you how sorry I am." I replied confidently.

I kissed the back of his neck, and his hair was so divine smelling. It was like I couldn't get enough.

"Arthur?"

"Mmhmm?" I mumbled against his luscious hair.

"Can this wait? We are just about in sight of the kings. I don't think they would appreciate having their sons 'together'."

I frowned, and hopped back onto my mare. The mare bucked and threw me off.

"Oh my god! Arthur! Are you alright?" he steered his mare toward me and practically flew off of his horse, to me. "Does anything hurt?"

"No, just my arm. Oh no, father will be mad at you for me getting hurt! He won't let me come back!"

"Nonsense. If that happens, I will just come to you, sweet Arthur."

I felt my face heating up when he said that.

"Really?"

"Of course, anything for my new friend!"

My arm was really hurting; I hope I hadn't broken it.

"Do you know if there is a doctor near by?" I asked, cradling my arm.

"Oui, mon ami!"

"What?"

"Oops, sorry. It means: 'yes, my friend'," he replied, picking me up.

The heat from his body was radiating into me. It was actually pretty soothing.

"If you don't mind my asking, how was your sister murdered?" I asked quietly.

His body tensed up, but he kept walking. Was that a tear in his eye?

"O-oh, you don't have t-to t-tell me…" I stuttered out looking at the horror in his eyes.

-At a run- down shack (apparently a hospital)-

When Francis walked up to the front counter, this is what he said: "The boy has been bucked off of his mare and his arm is bothering him."

"I'm not a boy." I huffed.

"Ohonhonhon, but you are."

I pouted. He was treating English Royalty like rubbish.

"It will be about ten minutes before we can get the little one in." The lady said.

That was the last straw.

Francis brought me to the waiting room that was about the size of my closet. Yes, I had a good-sized closet.

"If I was a boy, would I do this?"

I kissed him full on the lips. As his eyes closed in content, I pulled away smiling mockingly.

"That's it?" he whined.

I nodded, still smiling.

"My brother is eight, and he already does better kisses with his girlfriend." He grinned.

That was it, my spirits were crushed.