Francis wiped the British spit from his face, visage suddenly dropped into a snarling hatred for the Briton. "You are my prisoner, stupid rosbif, and by ze time I am done wiss you, you would wish you 'ad never existed." His rapier, sharp and glinting in the shimmering sun, slick with British blood from the other nation's soldier, pressed firmly into Arthur's neck, the edge breaking skin and drawing the tiniest line of blood from the Briton. "Let us see if anyone saves you zis time-oh, right, everyone in ze world 'ates you wiss a passion. You are lucky I am even letting you live." He snarled, standing and putting a heavy boot to Arthur's neck, raising his sword and yelling his triumph to his troops in his native tongue. The French soldiers responded in kind, raising their own blades in victory, high above the dead and dying and retreating bodies of the British soldiers. Francis' cocky smirk returned as he knelt over Arthur, foot pressed even more roughly into Arthur's throat, and he spat directly in his emerald eye. "You are passetic." He growled as two French soldiers began the process of binding and imprisoning the English nation.
Arthur struggled and lashed out at the fenchman, shutting one eye as it was spit on. He coughed and stuggled for breath, tears, thugh hid well by the blood, prickled at his eyes as he lashed out at one of the humans trying to bind him, effectively breaking the others nose. He has lost, he knewthat, but he was not going down without a fight, his english pride wouldn't allow anything other then that.
The Frenchman sneered, glowing white teeth bared, and turned away. "Why would we want to see you naked when your body is ze ugliest zing I 'ave ever seen?" He taunted, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, inhaling smoke before turning back towards the Briton. "You'll be sentenced soon. I already 'ave an idea of 'ow you will be punished for your crimes against ze French Empire."
"My CRIMES? I have done no crime but defend my own land you bloody frog!" he growled, glaring up at the bastard, "You and your people sicken me, more so if this is how you run your god foresaken nation! You are worse then the Russians!" he growled lowly, moving further back nto the cell, still covering himself best he could.
Francis merely chuckles, taking another long drag of his cigarette and blowing it into the cell. "Ah, oui, ze Russians. Merci pour ze compliment, mon ami, if I am worse zan ze Russians, I will be able to beat 'im easily, non?" His laugh grew louder before he coughed, cigarette held away from him as he hacked his lungs out. Once his coughing fit was over, he stood, blowing a kiss at Arthur. "Au revoir, petit Britannique~"
"No you wouldn't be able to beat then frog!" He snarled and watched him coughing taking some pleasure in the others pain and woe. He snorted in disgust as the other blew a kiss at him before moving toways the sheetless bed and curled up on it in silence, waiting until he finds out what his punishment for defending his land people and nation would be.