Francis starts to catch glimpses of England's imaginary friends and believes he's going insane. Arthur reassures him he's still very sane, only that his magic has started to rub off on him a little

Francis had always believed he was of sound mind and rational thought, he'd prided himself on his beliefs of love and sharing his heart as the nation of love. Making sure everyone felt appreciated and respected. He valued everyone in his life and enjoyed being able to bond with those closest to his heart. He enjoyed a drink on occasion but always took care of his mental health and made sure he would never overwork himself. But then being a nation came with at times suffocating responsibilities to his people and his country, expectations that no human could ever comprehend or manage alone. Even nations had moments of weakness where he needed time to recover and allow himself to heal, exhaustion, fatigue, stress of inhuman levels. The entire country fell upon his shoulders, he was the incarnation of France itself. Any deterioration, political climate and more influenced him, anything that happened to his country would reflect on the physical body he resided in. Which was why he was starting to wonder if he was going mad, that maybe he had finally reached his limit and perhaps isolating himself for a while was the best option. Stress, exhaustion or fatigue finally causing his mind to crumble after all these centuries.

He knew England had always been a bit odd, speaking to himself and having conversations with people he couldn't see. He knew other nations knew about it too, making fun of him or gossiping about his odd habits on occasion. He accepted and loved England as he was, believing that it was just one of Arthurs many quirks. England had his demons, his habits and a foul temper that even he had time handling, but he had a good heart, he was loyal and nostalgic. But the one thing that always confused him was how England used the same excuse every time, the latter insisting he had imaginary friends. France was a grown man, one of the elder nations, he wasn't that much older than England, the two had grown up together, childhood sweethearts. Referring to himself as big brother, a mentor to younger and more impressionable nations in need of guidance. There was no way someone like himself would believe in such things, they were a part of childhood that one eventually grew out of. Which was what was starting to worry him, he couldn't find any logical or rational excuse for any of this, no matter how much he wracked his brain he was falling on blanks. Lately he had begun to hallucinate, it was the only word he could muster to explain these changes in events. Seeing small fairies, winged humanoid creatures that glittered, similar to the ones in the pages of a fairytale. Unicorns, a horned creature of mythology, a green flying rabbit with white wings, when he had first seen them he swore he had to be overtired.

Muttering in French to himself before putting himself to bed and sleeping it off, placed at the back of his mind. Believing that maybe he was daydreaming, that he'd fallen asleep and he was in fact in a dream. The second time he had opened a bottle of his favourite wine, before he had even taken a sip he caught a glimpse of them again. He stared in awe for a period of time, the glass still sitting on the counter as the wine aired. Believing he was already drunk off the fumes of the wine, trying to ignore them by getting more intoxicated which proved a fruitless endeavour. Be he half asleep, intoxicated, stressed or overworked, it made no difference, he kept catching glimpses of them. It was as if the creatures followed him, wherever he went they seemed to appear without warning. But he couldn't tell anyone, there was no way he could tell a soul about these experiences, they would merely look at him as if he was insane. Silently judging him, wondering if he had finally cracked, mocking him. So he kept his words to himself, repressing it, hoping it would all go away

"Mon Dieu, it must be my old age getting the better of me, I'm finally going senile" France muttered. Maybe he should consider a therapist, maybe he could have a chat with Scotland, ask his boss for some time off. Anything that may prove to aid him, that may alleviate his situation. He'd seen many strange things over the course of his immortality, but nothing like this before. He barely heard the footsteps approaching, the concerned expression of his lover.

"Love? Are you quite well, you look bloody dreadful?" Arthur asked in concern, he'd noticed the subtle change in his husband for some time but said nothing. Now that his state had worsened he couldn't remain silent any longer. He'd become quite jittery as of late, on edge, nervous and rather anxious, he wasn't sleeping well, muttering to himself. He was drinking more, stressed for unknown reasons. He understood that Francis harboured stresses and problems the same as everyone else, but as his husband he hoped they would share the burden, turning to him when he needed support. In sickness and in health, whatever was the matter he would help him through it, so he didn't have to face it alone.

Francis turned to England nervously, the one person he had been avoiding throughout all of this could be his saviour. Why had he never come to him? Perhaps out of shame? He had spent decades teasing England in good humour, showing his affection through insults and other gestures. How could he face him now that he was seeing these creatures too?Arthur could use this as an opportunity for payback, getting revenge on his teasing now that he was losing his mind. He had every reason to make fun of him after all. But he was the only person he could turn to, he was the only person he could rely on at a time like this. He licked his lips nervously "Angleterre, I fear I may be losing my mind" he stammered.

Arthur softened, approaching his husband to squeeze his hand reassuringly, mental health was a serious matter and an affliction that all nations suffered with on varying levels. He wouldn't judge him if he was having troubles or his mental health was regressing. He would support him any way he could. He did however feel guilt that he attempted to handle this alone, feeling the need to shoulder the burden himself. "Darling, whatever troubles you I'll do my best to help you through it" he soothed.

Francis sighed wearily, he never thought he'd be saying this to England, he wanted to laugh at the irony already. England the person who had always lived by the beat of his own drum, the outcast, the recluse, the punk, the perverted ambassador. He would just have to take the leap, damn the consequences. This was his husband, his life partner, he was the person he needed to confide these things to "I… I've been seeing things" he stammered. As soon as he said it he felt ashamed, his cheeks burning hot as he wished he could take the words back.

Arthur blinked, wondering if he had heard him right "Seeing things?" he questioned. The mind could conjure things when exhausted, stressed or overtired, it was a defence mechanism created by the body. However, when it came to the supernatural, that was a different matter entirely.

Francis nodded, the way England was looking at him made this harder to say, like he was going to laugh at him "Oui, strange things, creatures…" he trailed off. He felt like a child explaining to their parents about the easter bunny and Santa Claus, trying to protest they were in fact real. That no matter how much he insisted, no matter how many facts he threw at England, it would just blow up in his face. He felt like a fool, like he was defending a lost cause and he shouldn't have said anything at all.

Arthur's eyes widened, Francis was not the sort of person to make this sort of thing up. He'd always been a man of pride who wore his heart on his sleeve and believed in honesty, heart to heart conversations.

No

It couldn't be, this felt like a dream come true, a moment he had waited for his entire life. Centuries of wishing his husband could understand this part of his life, this secret. He felt his heart leap with excitement, for so long he'd been one of few nations with the gift, to see the supernatural. Now his husband could possibly see them too? The last thing he needed was for him to panic, assume the worst and have a breakdown. He needed to remain calm, rational and open minded. "Breathe pet, now tell me, what did you see?" he questioned hopefully, he didn't want to assume, allow his hopes to rise in case he was mistaken.

France gazed at England wearily, his violet blue eyes panicked and yet hopeful "I… I've seen… a rabbit…. A green rabbit with wings" he pressed. He couldn't believe he was saying this aloud, he heard how crazy he sounded. But he could vividly picture it in his mind, burned into his memory, its fluffy green fur, soft twitching nose, sparkling blue eyes and white wings. A harmless looking creature, but it still scared the hell out of him upon first sight.

England's eyes widened, his heart filling with joy, he knew exactly to whom his beloved was referring to, a warm smile forming on his lips. She had been his closest friend since he was a child, comforting him when he was scared, lonely or afraid. The first magical friend that ever appeared to him "Bunny… flying mint bunny" he smiled. Knowing she would be nearby listening to them.

"Mint bunny?" Francis repeated, what a peculiar name but fitting.

The Englishman sighed fondly, reflecting on all the magical creatures that had become part of his life growing up. The closest friends he had ever made that only he could see. "Yes, one of my imaginary friends, well not so much now that you can see them too" Arthur chuckled. Knowing his husband was getting a glimpse into beyond the veil, it was comforting, knowing he wasn't alone. Francis felt a sense of relief washing over him, having England validate what he'd seen was so reassuring. So he wasn't going insane? He wasn't having a breakdown. England squeezed his hand to reassure him, seeing his expression "Here isn't the most suitable place to have this conversation, how about I make us some tea and we can talk over a cup?" he suggested. They had a lot to discuss, they had a lot to share, this may take a long time, all night perhaps. They could take a ride home in a taxi, then they could be in the privacy of their home. Francis nodded, tea sounded great right now, it had been a long day and he needed something comforting. Maybe a drop of bourbon in it wouldn't hurt either, just to ease his nerves.

Francis sipped his tea, the flavour hitting his tongue and calming him, the taste of the tea leaves mixed with the strength of the bourbon. His anxiety lessened, his body calmed, he felt a little better already. He felt as though he could sleep for weeks, having retired to he and England's shared home post meeting to have some privacy. It was only pure luck that England happened to be host this time, allowing them to not have to get a hotel room. England smiled at him from over his own teacup, Francis looked exhausted, his blonde waves a mess, tangled from stress and small bags formed under his eyes. But he appeared to have relaxed, settled into his chair, the alcohol laced tea helping calm him. "Feeling a little better now pet?" he asked, he didn't have to get it all out at once, they could talk at his pace.

Francis nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily, he was more than grateful to England for his kindness. He hadn't judged him, mocked him or made fun of him, merely comforted him and taken him home. This was going to be a long night indeed "Oui, merci Angleterre" he mumbled.

England took a long sip of tea before turning his gaze back to his husband, he remembered the first time Scotland had sat him down and had this discussion. He never thought he'd be having it with his husband of all people."Now darling, tell me from the beginning, you mentioned you've seen flying mint bunny" he reminded him. He could sense his magical friends nearby, listening in on the conversation, knowing they were the topic. They had no reason to be afraid, but they could be curious. No matter how strange, bizarre or odd the topic seemed, he wouldn't be fazed by it, he'd seen all manner of the weird and wonderful. His nation had a history of the supernatural, going further back than America itself.

Francis took a heavy sigh, allowing his mind to wander back to his visions, all the bizarre things he had witnessed. "Oui, at first I believed I was going mad, that my mind was playing tricks on me. That maybe I wasn't getting enough sleep, that I was overworking myself or perhaps it was the wine getting to my head…" he trailed off.

"Rational excuses" England nodded, he'd tried to rationalise it too when he was young, trying to use logic. But no matter how hard he tried it wouldn't go away. After his brother explained he accepted that not all things had a rational answer. That there were some things in the universe too bizarre for comprehension.

"But then it kept happening, even when I was clear minded, sober and well rested. They kept appearing in brief glimpses, appearing before me. No matter how much I believed I was merely going insane it kept occurring" Francis mumbled. It was as if they were haunting him, testing him, mocking him, making him question himself. Even when he tried to find a rational answer, even when he tried to use logic, he failed. He was running around in circles looking for an answer he couldn't find.

England softened, his face filling with empathy, sympathy and love for his husband, he had never wanted to scoop him in his arms more. Knowing the loneliness and confusion that Francis was describing, what Francis was describing he had felt growing up. When his powers first began to blossom, when his friends began to appear, he believed he was going insane, that something was wrong with him. No matter how much he tried to hide or ignore them they kept appearing, running to his brothers for guidance. Instead of berating him, accusing him of making up stories, the older nation had sat him down and made him some hot chocolate. Speaking to him calmly and helping to reassure him, Scotland revealing he had inherited the gift. The same reason he wore an earring to protect against the fae, he could see fairies, unicorns, supernatural creatures like the Kelpie. Some harmless, some monstrous and some malevolent, revealing to his brother of the power he had inherited. Later he learned Ireland and Wales had a similar gift, all of his family was magically empowered in some form, so he wasn't alone. Later he found some nations also harboured the gift.

He sighed, gazing into his teacup reflectively, it was so long ago it was strange to think of how naive he'd been. Now he had friends, a sense of belonging and people to talk about this to. "As you know, I formed the magic club, alongside Romania, Norway and Belarus, our newest member" he explained. Many people assumed he formed it for fun, not realising that it was a sense of comfort. A place to practice magic but also summon and communicate with the supernatural.

Francis nodded, he still had no idea how he convinced Belarus to join, she was the least likely candidate. She was always happy in her own company and never seemed bothered by having friends. Wait, the pieces suddenly clicking together, it couldn't be "You… you mean…" he trailed off. All of them had joined that club for a reason, the term magic was just a cover for the club. They weren't performing tricks like performing magicians, they were in fact all gifted.

England nodded, not many realised it but they were truly a powerful group of people, blessed with mediumship in some form. They were a threat to be reckoned with but not many took them seriously. However, the fellow nordics respected them and appreciated England involving Norway "Precisely pet, everyone in that club has powers like myself". Francis stared in disbelief, this couldn't be, but then he had heard stranger things. Given his current situation he had no reason to argue. "Romania has a love of the occult, dark magic and other folklore, which is why he has pronounced fangs, due to his culture being focused on vampires. However, he also has the ability to see the supernatural" Arthur explained. He had practiced many spells with Romania before and the two had discussions over magic and learning from one another. However, they respected the craft and knew never to abuse it. The misconceptions and stories of vampires often frustrated Romania due to his knowledge of it, often butting heads with America over it. No person with the gift had the same power, though they shared some similarities nobody was exactly the same. They were all special and they embraced it, appreciating the others value.

"Norway has the ability to see trolls, his interest in runes, selkie's and other supernatural beings" England continued. Though trolls were the most infamous part of his folklore, he was the inspiration for the norse gods, ones that had become stories and even formed into media. He had such rich culture and history it was fascinating. Though he didn't boast about it often he was greatly respected.

Francis panicked, Norway and Romania made sense they had always been somewhat unusual and England bonded with them rather quickly. All of these people had so much in common with his husband and he had no idea, realising the common ground they shared. Knowing they had gifts too explained their fast formed friendship, knowing England found community and support with them. He'd never been able to understand England in such a way, never show him that kind of support. He was happy England had found that community he needed, people who could understand him and people he could feel accepted with. But that didn't answer his question. Belarus had never been a sociable person, though she'd moved past her obsession with her brother she still preferred her own company. He had no idea of how she had become friendly with England. "But… what about Belarus? How does she fit into this?" Francis stammered. She never spoke about herself, she had a crude way of speaking and she loved potatoes, but she was an introverted person and kept a distance. How England wasn't terrified of her was impressive. "…since when was Russia scary? How is Natalya part of your club?" he protested. As scary as she was that wasn't an excuse for her to join.

England sighed, despite his tensions with Russia, Belarus had joined of her own volition. He'd managed to have a pleasant conversation with her merely by respecting her boundaries and approaching her politely. After noticing her borrowing books on the occult it piqued his interest, it was later then that he learned of her gifts. Ukraine supported this and urged her sister to find community within the group, knowing her sister had no friends and had distanced herself from their brother. Belarus had developed the gift herself but had never told her siblings out of fear and shame, feeling as though it would only add to her bad reputation. She had even told America that his ghosts were all cowards and weaklings in comparison to other nations. After managing to have an in depth conversation and heart to heart, England offered her a place among them. Explaining that she would be accepted, she could summon or see real ghosts and she could learn a lot about herself in the process. She hesitantly accepted his offer, but soon found community and support among them. She took an interest in the folklore and history of the members and even asked about their ghosts. "Natalya was born with the rare gift of mediumship, she can communicate and see spirits. Though she calls America's pathetic, she has witnessed and seen other nations spirits" England explained. He'd never met someone with such potency before and wondered if she had been able to see them when she was small too.

France stared, how on earth did England find these people? Somehow he had gathered all the nations with supernatural awareness into one club and he didn't even have to try that hard. He was impressed by all the effort he put into forming a safe-space for them all. Were they just drawn to him? However, now he understood why England formed this club, to find belonging, community, validation and support. All the things he had been lacking ever since he was young, people who would understand him, people like himself. His expression forming into conflict and yet understanding.

England lowered his teacup, he knew this was a lot to process from Francis's point of view. He'd never had to live with this, he'd never had this kind of perspective. Leaning across to cup Francis's face, stroking his cheek with his thumb, his eyes warm and gentle. "You aren't going insane pet, there is an explanation for this" he soothed. He was as sane as he had ever been, nothing was wrong with him and he needn't panic.

France whimpered, the likes of Norway, Romania, Belarus and England, they were all born with them "How..I never had these gifts before" he insisted. He couldn't suddenly develop them over night, or could he? He had no idea of how it worked. How was he supposed to adjust to this? How was he supposed to be ok with seeing such bizarre creatures? He found himself confused of his own mind, his own identity.

England shot him a knowing look, Francis was never born with the gift, however he been influenced partially. He was surprised his alliance with Scotland hadn't influenced this too. "Sometimes when you spend enough time around the supernatural or those whom are gifted with the sight. Their powers can influence others or rub off on them. It seems your marriage to me means my powers have effected you. You aren't going insane you've just got a dusting of my power, but not strong enough to see them all the time. Just glimpses" England chuckled. He would see faded and brief moments where his creatures would become visible to him but only for short periods. Similar to small children with imaginary friends before they matured and they no longer existed. Compared to the strength of England's potency was rather weak. Francis softened, this explained so much, how these creatures would fade after a while and then reappear at random moments without explanation. A sense of relief washing over him as he unburdened his stress and assumptions. Knowing that by merely spending time around England, his powers slowly having an affect on him he would be able to see them too, albeit briefly. He wasn't going mad, what he'd seen was very much real, he was merely not used to seeing them. "My familiars won't hurt you, they are harmless. I'd be more concerned if I sensed harm may befall you" he teased, they were harmless magical creatures with a curiosity for humans but were benevolent. None of his magical creatures harboured any ill intent whatsoever. Though if he was that concerned he could ask Scotland for an iron earring. He hated the idea of Francis wanting to reject this part of his identity, knowing he was frightened of England's power. But it was his choice to make.

Francis calmed, looking at this from a rational point of view, allowed him to empathise with his husband and understand what he'd endured as a child. The same visions England had been tormented for; called a liar, a lunatic, called insane, delusional and assumed to be mad. Growing up how he had been forced to hide this part of himself from everyone around him, but he was telling the truth. He was merely born with the sight, a glimpse into the supernatural that nobody else possessed. He nuzzled against England's hand affectionately, placing his hand over his own, his violet blue eyes filled with tenderness. He would never let anyone speak badly of England's gifts again, if anyone had anything bad to say he wouldn't allow it. Arthur had a power like nothing anyone could imagine. He was special. "Desole, I never believed you all these years, I made you feel so isolated and alone. It was cruel of me to tease you. Forgive me Angleterre" he apologised. He had said so many cruel things, never out of genuine malice but out of ignorance, because he couldn't understand.

England softened, Francis had been his first love since they were children, his closest confidant and the love of his life. As much as Francis teased him he had empathy, he had a heart and he knew when to take responsibility. The fact that he now had a perspective of how he had made England feel and felt bad for that, it showed growth. He was genuinely confused and frightened by the visions he had seen. "It never came from a place of cruelty love, just naivety. But now you can see my friends and know you aren't going insane" he teased. He would gladly introduce them on better terms when Francis was in a calmer state.

Francis chuckled, a sense of relief filling him, this had certainly been a strange day.