"Les rêves des amoureux sont comme le bon vin;

Ils donnent de la joie, ou bien du chagrin.

Affaibli par la faim, je suis malheureux-

Volant en chemin tout ce que je peux...

Car rien n'est gratuit dans la vie~!"

xxx

Maybe once or twice in a lifetime, a certain person comes along.

A person that you don't necessarily love, but you just can't lose them, no matter what happens.

And, sometimes, you just can't be with them. It wasn't like you were banned from seeing them, it was simply an unspoken rule that everyone had to follow.

This time, however, said rule was cast to the side and treated as if it didn't even exist.

Francis Bonnefoy, otherwise known as the nation of France, was the unlucky bastard who decided to do so.

Maybe it wasn't his fault... maybe it was some other factor. Whatever it was, it still came into play on the evening of July 14th.

Francis leaned over his balcony with a glass of red wine in his hand, looking across the lands that surrounded. The heart of Paris. Every year, he would see how much it changed and would smile at the result, proud of himself for merely existing for so long. It was a sort of sad, reminiscent happiness that was an ever-present element on this day.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he'd forgotten a celebration was taking place within his house, therefore not noticing the soft footsteps that approached him ever so carefully.

The young woman that they belonged to seemed too nervous to speak, so she simply stood next to him, joining him in looking over the scenery.

After a moment, Francis was at last aware of her existence.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, mademoiselle?"

"O-oh, yes, of course, François..." She agreed, her voice as soft as her steps.

"There is no need to be so shy, mon ami! After all, the beauty of these lands could never compare to that of yourself."

At this, the color of her face easily resembled the scarlet color of the sky.

"Ah... Merci! Though, I bet you say that to everyone, do you not?" She said with a small smirk.

"Fine, you've caught me, cherie. Intelligent as well as beautiful- I love that. However, I have never meant what I said as much as I do now."

"Stop lying!"

"Why on earth would I lie to you, darling?" He asked genuinely, taking the young woman's delicate hands into his own. "You are stunning. Simply... breathtaking. You can't deny a truth such as this."

Needless to say, her bright blue eyes widened, her face feeling as if it were hotter than the sun at this point. But slowly, her expression softened into a warm smile as she laughed softly, somewhat embarrassed.

"Fine, I'll believe you, François, but before I do... do you even know my name?"

Upon seeing the Frenchman struggle to guess, she smiled and answered for him.

"Jeanne. It's Jeanne." She held out her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you too, mademoiselle~." He said, taking her hand and placing a light kiss upon it.

From there, something blossomed. Neither of them knew exactly what it was, but there was something. There had to be.

Either way, it was needless to say that they easily spent the rest of the evening together.

After that, the two were almost inseperable.

They constantly went for long walks together, they sometimes had deep talks about the universe, and one time, they even danced together, her dress flowing with her movements, and Francis considering it cute whenever she'd messed up somehow. Truly, they were perfect for each other.

However, that would soon end, for all this time, he was really placing away the fact that there was a war that he needed to fight. He'd tried to ignore it, but lately he would have random bursts of pain all over his body, and would often lie awake at night because of the nightmares caused by his citizens that were dying by the thousands. Because of this war, Jeanne seemed to be growing distant from him as well.

He really shouldn't have asked her about it.

"Jeanne, what has been bothering you so much? Is it anything that I can help you with...?"

"François, do you ever feel like... like you should be doing something? And if you're not... then you feel as if you're standing around idly, simply worthless."

Currently, this was a feeling he knew all too well.

"Because this war that's been happening... I feel... I feel like I should join it. I should give back to this amazing nation that I was blessed with."

Francis swore he could've felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"Wh-what? Why on Earth would you want to do that?"

"I have to, François!" She shouted, her tone becoming angry. "If I don't, I'll probably die anyways, and, I don't know how to explain this, but I know that God told me to! He told me to protect this country, and... and to protect you." Warm, angry tears suddenly started to stream down her face. "I... I have to. If I have to sacrifice myself, then so be it. But I can't deny Him..."

Seeing this simply broke Francis's heart, for two reasons. One, because he felt terrible for the girl, and knew that there was only one choice at this point. Two, because of a reason he couldn't quite explain.

"If you have to do this... then, I'l find a way, I promise. Be that as it may, I have one condition - you let me come with you."

With cropped hair and a suit of armor, poised atop a white horse in the midst of a bloody battle, she still was stunning, an angel in his eyes.

However, on one horrible, fateful day that is still etched in stone within Francis's mind, this vision of her became literal.

It was May 30th, 1431.

Jeanne d'Arc was accused of many blasphemous acts, including heresy and witchcraft, all of which might as well have not mattered at all now.

On this day, she was being executed of her supposed crimes, and news of it spread like wildfire, eventually reaching none other than Francis Bonnefoy.

He didn't care how far he was away from the event, for as soon as he heard, he practically sprinted all the way to where it was happening, pushing through the crowd, and to the front, only to be stopped by the guards.

"Stop!" He screamed, the intensity of his one word plea almost heart shattering.

Almost.

Needless to say, his cries went unanswered, for they wouldn't stop, no matter how loudly he shouted. However, he stopped in his words once he saw Jeanne's face. It was almost as if she were begging him to stop trying. Then, he remembered her words.

'If I have to sacrifice myself, then so be it. But I can't deny Him.'

In that moment, his heart broke into a million pieces, for three reasons. One, Jeanne had known she was going to die the entire time, and still went through with this. Two, the woman he'd known and loved for so long was about to be set alight before his very eyes. And three... he'd realised that his love was never returned. Everything she'd done to this point was for God.

He felt like the most selfish creature in the world for even considering being saddened by this.

Either way, his eyes remained dry, even as the bottom of the stake was lit. For this, Jeanne smiled weakly at him, her eyes seeming to say "thank you."

The rest of that terrible day was only a blur.

On this day in the present, May 30th, the anniversary of her death, Francis leaned over his balcony once again, staring into the distance, exactly like the day he'd met that wonderful girl.

Only one solitary thought crossed his mind.

'Wherever you are now, Jeanne, may history be kind to you this time, and bless you with roses, not swords.'

xxx

"Une vie à me cacher, et puis libre enfin...

Le festin est sur mon chemin~!"

「ｕｎｅｍａｉｔｒｅｓｓｅｃｒｕｅｌｌｅ」

tHE FEELS ARE GOING INTERNATIONAL OH MY GOODNESS

I assume y'all expected me to write about this at some point or other, and if you didn't, well then sucks to be you.

Most of the reason I wrote this is because that one song from Ratatouille got stuck in my head (Le Festin) and I imagined France and Jeanne dancing together, for both the first and last time.

I only cried for twenty minutes.

/saunters into the salty spitoon