Well, this is my first Hetalia one-shot…and my first activity since last year, so enjoy.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hetalia .If I did Costa Rica and the rest of America would appear on it and bother the hell out of the North American twins.
(PAGE BREAK)
He still remembered. Her laughter and her smile. All the little things that made her unique, one of a kind. Her beauty had no match on this earth. Her eyes, that shined bright even in the darkest times, gave him hope. Her courage was something he would never stop gawking at. For him, she was perfect, his angel, his savior, his soul mate.
And, in the blink of an eye, she was gone from his side. Burning in the stake. He was forced to watch helplessly as his love gave her dying breaths. As she smiled through the flames to him, trying to give him some sort of comfort. As if to make the final blow to him she was showed to the crowd to prove she was dead, gone from this realm to the afterlife, and then burned again to later be throwed in the river without a second thought.
It felt like if a stake was driven through his heart mercilessly one time after the wanted so badly to jump into the river just to join her. But yet he didn't. He knew two things
First one: He knew he couldn't die. He was tied to the country he shared his name with.
And the second one: Even if he could die, she wouldn't have wanted for him to end his life like this. She would have wanted for him to move on and live the life she was denied.
The months after were miserable. He couldn't bring himself to move , to live, or to even care. He felt numb. He felt broken. Like if someone had ripped his heart away from his body and chopped into pieces.
He couldn't bring himself to forget her. To forgive him, his precious brother little brother. And most important, to forgive himself.
When he finally came out, everybody knew he had changed. That most of his smiles were a facade , a mask, a disguise for him to hide his emotions. They knew he would never forget and would never forgive.
Even now , after many centuries, he still had nightmares. Reliving that horrific event once again.
But he would never forget. His angel .His savior .His dear Jeanne.
(PAGE BREAK)
Okay, explanation time ! I consider England and France to be brothers more than lovers, but that is just my point of view, so I do not mean to offend anyone. Please if I have any grammatical errors , please do tell. Comments are more than welcome.