Author's note: Hello! I've returned from my camp, and I've finished Chapter 8 so here it is! In this chapter, we find out that Jeanne has contracted the disease and Francis gets worried. :) Thank you for those who reviewed, favourite and/or followed! It really means a lot to know that you guys enjoy reading my story. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
For old readers, in case you're confused about the change in order, I apologise for the mess-up of chapters! One very helpful reviewer has kindly pointed out the really bad structuring, which I have amended and hopefully it's better now. :) I have changed the order such that the story opens with Lovino first, and then goes around the other Kingdoms so as to give you readers a clearer idea as to how the other Kingdoms are run (haven't touched on the Kingdom of Hearts yet though) and also the backstories of the Royals.
It had been two months since the first time Francis had seen Jeanne training, and it was midnight when Francis was roused by loud chattering outside his bedroom. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, kicking the thick blanket aside forcibly and pulling back the doorknocker. His stewards were standing outside, their faces made visible by the sole burning flame of a candle, and they had been discussing something among themselves. Now, upon seeing their King leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and face written with annoyance, they immediately turned all of their attention on him. Responding to the upturn of Francis' eyebrows, they said urgently, "It's the Queen, Your Majesty."
A shared glance of hesitation. "And Jeanne. They snuck out and have just returned…"
More nervous shuffling and Francis yawned dramatically, pushing himself off the door frame and moving to close the door. The stewards got the message and the less timid one continued hastily, "There's something wrong with Jeanne, Your Majesty. She… We think she's caught the disease."
Even before the stewards could finish, Francis had snatched the candleholder from them and was already marching down the corridor. The candle's light illuminated the path in front of him, bringing light to the portraits hanging on the walls. They were of the previous Kings and Queens of Diamonds, each portrayed the way the Royals had wanted themselves to be shown, and Francis' would be put up when his time as King was over. He had gotten his own portrait done a month after his ascension, and he had been painted leisurely sipping a glass of wine, his long hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, while Lili had requested to be painted with Vash, and the two of them had posed on a bench in the castle's gardens, sipping tea.
Normally, Francis would take a moment to admire the paintings, testing his memory as to which Royal was which and daydreaming about the day his portrait would be nailed onto the castle's walls. But on that very night, he could not give a damn about the works of art. His feet felt like they were moving on their own, and his mind was still struggling to catch up with the news the stewards had just delivered. Questions kept firing from his brain: why did they sneak out? Why was Lili with Jeanne? Was Jeanne alright? Where were they? As Francis rounded a corner, one thing finally got to him, like an arrow finding the bull's eye at last.
"We think she's caught the disease." Jeanne was suspected of having caught the disease. The disease that had been haunting the Kingdom – and the other Kingdoms – for months. The disease that had driven people to insanity and disfigured their faces to mere boils and pus. Images of Jeanne, stumbling into the main hall, throwing up blood all over the place and her lovely face ruined by rapidly emerging welts plagued Francis' head, nasty products of his over-active imagination and in his panic, he failed to notice the group of people heading towards him. Fortunately, a collision was avoided in the nick of time, and under the light of the candle, Francis saw that it was Lili and her maids.
The Queen's normally thin frame seemed even more frail and pale under the pathetic lighting, and she was being supported by her maids. Her usually bright face was now in the state of shock, her glassy eyes remaining fixated at the floor before resting on Francis. "I…" Lili opened her mouth, then shut it again, her voice caught in her throat.
"What happened? Where is Jeanne? How is she?" Francis bombarded Lili with questions. He needed answers, he needed an explanation and most of all, he needed to see Jeanne. At Francis' lack of concern for her, hurt flashed briefly in Lili's eyes but she realized that she was not surprised. After all, she had noticed the way Francis had looked at Jeanne whenever they had coffee in the balcony overlooking the training grounds. Lili would talk to him, but sometimes he would be so engrossed in watching the Knight using various weapons that he would not reply. The Queen would stop talking to observe Francis, who would rest his chin on the palm of his hand as he gazed on, eyes clouded with longing and the occasional hint of jealousy whenever Jeanne's teaching involved her touching other Knights.
Lili had known that Francis was smitten with the Knight, but had not thought much about it due to her knowledge of Francis' nightly habits. In fact, she was a little pleased that the frequency of his "activities" had decreased and that that meant he was serious about Jeanne, and though she often felt a bit indignant at how Francis would get distracted at times during meetings and how he had managed to fall in love while she had strictly managed her feelings so she could focus whole-heartedly on the Kingdom, she figured out that she had no say in Francis' life and that it might injure their professional relationship if she ever spoke about it to him. Thus, she pretended not to know about Francis' feelings for Jeanne. Most people did not see past the polite and nice girl front the Queen put up, often assuming that she did not really mind anything, but behind her well mannered smile was a fierce sense of responsibility and her amicable eyes were highly observant. If the Royals were the face of the Kingdom, Lili would be the eyes – she made it her priority to keep herself up to date with the Kingdom's happenings, and that included interacting with the people.
At that moment, the Queen took a few deep breaths to compose herself and shooting a thankful look to the maids who were gently patting her back reassuringly, answered, "She's in the infirmary. She–"
Francis did not even give her a chance to finish and was already running away. Lili stared after him, thinking to herself again that Francis had stopped listening to her two months ago before letting herself be led into her room by the maids.
When the young King arrived in the infirmary, a rather small room in one of the top floors of the castle, he encountered a guard at the entrance. Impatient, Francis tried to push past them, only to be stopped.
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but you can't enter. It's too dangerous, we don't know how the disease spreads and we can't risk you falling ill," the guard, who had a bushy beard, pointed out.
"On whose orders, may I ask?" Francis was growing increasingly snappy by the minute and he had to bite back the urge to just push past the guard and into the room. The fact that Jeanne was just behind the door was sufficient to rile up his nerves and make his heart thrum faster in anticipation.
"Jeanne's, Your Majesty. She told us to keep her away from everyone else. She doesn't want anyone in the castle to get infected."
Of course, Jeanne would put others first. Francis pinched the bridge of his nose, quelling the irritation that had been building up in his chest. I should respect her decision.
"Alright. But is it okay if I take a peek? From here?"
The guards ended up opening the door just a crack for Francis to look through, and the blond Royal had to look around the room before he finally spotted Jeanne. She was lying on the bed at the far end of the room, and from his position Francis could make out Jeanne's form. The apricot blonde had her shoulder pressed into the mattress as she lay on her side, and Francis could tell that she was probably sleeping. Her back was heaving sporadically, a sign of uneven breathing, and she seemed to be gasping for air.
A stab of concern rippled through Francis as it hit him that Jeanne was having difficulty breathing, and all he wanted to do was rush forward and to hold her, but a voice in his head reminded him that Jeanne was strong and independent, and probably thought nothing of him except the fact that he was the King. That was one of the main things that aided Francis in controlling his desire and adoration for Jeanne, one of the things that strengthened the barrier separating him and the Knight. He somehow knew that it was highly unlikely that he would ever have a chance of being with Jeanne as lovers, and was content to merely watch her from a distance.
Just then, Jeanne turned around, and Francis felt his breath hitch as her face, twisted in discomfort and pain, came into view. The tell-tale welts had already begun to appear on her previously immaculate skin, turning the pigment to a blotchy shade of red. The entire left side of her cheek and jaw was swollen and mumbling in her sleep, Jeanne reached up to scratch at the area, her chipped fingernails scraping the raw skin and causing it to redden further. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she sniffed loudly, another sign that her nose was running.
Francis didn't trust what he was seeing. He couldn't believe that the girl who had been swinging axes, throwing daggers, wielding swords and doing push-ups was now lying on the mattress and slowly falling victim to the disease. When he had first met her, he had been completely and utterly struck by how strong and robust she was, and it had been enough to deceive him into thinking that she was fit enough to escape the clutches of the disease. But there she was, on the bed. She might have won many battles, but she had lost to the disease. The more he thought about it, the more Francis became frustrated and he pulled back from the door, looking to the guards.
"Is there anything we can do?" he asked, his expression hopeful but deep down he already knew that there was nothing much they could do. He had kept himself updated with the Kingdom doctors' progress on a cure, but so far nothing had worked and the doctors had all reported that the possibility of there being a cure soon was close to zero. Those who fell ill were merely given painkillers and kept in the Kingdom's hospital to minimize human contact as much as possible, but there had been cases of patients who were already in the terminal stage escaping from the wards and coming into contact with the public, spreading the disease further. The guards informed Francis that they would be bringing Jeanne to the hospital the next day and that Lili had to remain in her room so they could make sure that she had not caught the disease. The one thing that puzzled Francis the most, however, was why Lili and Jeanne had snuck out in the first place.
"Jeanne has been sneaking out for quite a while, Your Majesty. Every night she brings food to the hospital and volunteers for the night shift to replace the doctors who are ill. Tonight, Her Majesty caught her but instead of telling her off, asked to come along. Jeanne tried dissuading her but Her Majesty kept on insisting and even ordered Jeanne to show her the way to the hospital. On the way back from the hospital, Jeanne suddenly threw up blood and Her Majesty managed to bring her back to the castle."
When Francis heard the guard's recount, he was unable to stop the sad smile that appeared on his face, complementing his crystal blue eyes that flooded with melancholic understanding and for a moment the dread that had been slowly turning his body cold morphed into a dash of wistfulness. I knew it. Jeanne would do that.
That was another one of the main reasons behind why Francis was happy just to be able to watch Jeanne from behind the concrete railings of the veranda. Unlike most of the women he had met so far, Jeanne had not a single bit of fragility in her, and it seemed to Francis that every fibre of her being was being put into serving others. Yet this was a trait that had contributed to Francis' admiration for her, and it was one of the things that he loved the most about Jeanne, wishing that he could be the person to give her the care she had been giving to others before herself.
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty."
"What do you mean?" Francis eyed the guard, who had a rueful expression on his face.
"I don't think there's much we can do for Jeanne. But we will do our best to ensure she is comfortable in the hospital."
Francis nodded in acknowledgement, taking another glance at Jeanne's sleeping form through the gap in the door. She had turned around again, and her short hair was now splayed across the pillow, her knees brought towards her stomach. Her breathing seemed more regular now, and she was moving around less. The King closed the door of the infirmary carefully, before turning to walk away. Then, when a thought occurred to him, Francis turned to the guard once more and asked, "How did you know?"
The guard smiled, stroking his beard. "I've seen the way you look at her, Your Majesty. A lot of us have. And she's one of our best and kindest Knights, so it's only right that we help her."
Feeling the first hint of warmth ever since the news about Jeanne had been broken to him, Francis smiled back. "Thank you."