England studied the faraway glance in the nation's striking blue eyes, his normally hardened features softening. "Francis..."

The usually flirty man looked up slowly, his eyes avoiding the Englishman's. Since no response was given, England sighed and reached for his tea, which was beginning to grow cold as it sat on the only thing between the two nations;a coffee table.

"Francis." The younger blonde tried again, this time able to catch the blue eyes that he loved so much, not that he would admit that, of course. "Please, you look worse then usual." The green eyed nation quirked his lips up a bit, hoping to get a returning smile from his lover, but it only resulted in the Frenchman's shoulders sagging, and a pitiful whimper to escape his lips.

"...'Ave you ever watched your love burn like an old piece of paper?" The question was choked out, almost a croak, but no matter how quiet or muffled, it tore terribly at England's heart and soul. He knew exactly what this was about, and instantly grew saddened.

Jeanne D'Arc

He had heard his lover whimper out, hell, even scream out the name in his sleep. England had always brushed the hair out of France's face, kissing away the tears and grimaces that usually followed after the sleeping nation had cried out. "Angleterre..."

The Englishman was too busy frowning at the shag on France's floor, keeping his tears at bay. His brothers were somewhat reponsible for the...the burning of the woman who was forever scratched into the Frenchman's heart. He could have stopped them, he could have-

"Angleterre..." Francis was in front of the zoned out nation now, kneeling. His eyes were trying to catch the marvelous greens, but they were to far out to reach...and they were filled with tears.

"I'm sorry. Francis." The man was zoned in now, his eyes locking with the Frenchman's. "She was an excellent, no, words cannot describe her, Francis. I didn't know her personally, but anyone could sense her beauty and strength. No one could dare compare." England looked truly torn, and France could practically hear himself wince.

A gentle, memory-induced smile slowly grew on Francis's face, and he interlaced a hand with the younger blonde's. "Oh ses yeux, arthur. Elle a tout fait avec amour pur pour tout et n'importe quoi. Ses cris de douleur étaient même lacées avec grâce et la confiance de sa beauté. Mon Dieu, arthur, je pourrais même pas dire comment elle fait mon coeur course comme un coureur de marathon's." Tears were now running down both of their faces, and Arthur squeezed francis's hand. His understanding of French graced him at the moment, and they both smiled at each other through the pain and guilt eating away at themselves.

"Oh but England..." The Frenchman wasn't finished, and whispered the words greedily into the blonde's ear. "Je t'aime plus que quiconque, et vous sera la mienne à jamais. Intouchable."

A/N: ohhhh my life. Okay, so translations:

Oh ses yeux, arthur. Elle a tout fait avec amour pur pour tout et n'importe quoi. Ses cris de douleur étaient même lacées avec grâce et la confiance de sa beauté. Mon Dieu, arthur, je pourrais même pas dire comment elle fait mon coeur course comme un coureur de marathon's.-Oh her eyes, arthur. She did everything with pure love for anything and everything. Her cries of pain were even laced with grace and the confidence of her beauty. My God, arthur, I couldn't even tell her how she made my heart race like a marathon runner's.

Je t'aime plus que quiconque, et vous sera la mienne à jamais. Intouchable.-I love you more than anyone else, and you will be mine for ever. Untouchable.

Hopefully I didn't fuck over the beautiful language spoken by my great-grandma on a daily basis too badly! And maybe I made one of ya cry...doubtful... Anyway, if you are looking for another chapter of With Love from Prussia, That will be updated rather later tonight, or tomorrow. Not sure. Thanks for reading, loves! (No reviews = slightly less French Author)