France :: Francis Bonnefoy

Being a nation came with its pros and of course its cons. It wasn’t something he could neglect, Francis knew that and he was pretty damn good at acknowledging the constant turbulence he was thrown into. Although, when he met you, you seemed to be the only constant in the middle of a storm. He grew to love you and he cursed himself for doing so everyday. He knew he’d watch you grow distant, old, and soon, he’d watch you get lowered into the ground with nothing to do.

He stared out the window, his mind wandering to thousands of possibilities. If pets, like his dear Pierre, aren’t affected by time because Pierre was connected to him somehow, could he do that with you? He wasn’t sure but he didn’t want to lose you. “One day, I’ll remember your face more clearly than you remembering mine. Mon dieu…” His face fell into his hands, stressed and afraid until he heard the doorknob shake.

“Mon amour? Is that you?” He called sweetly, his voice unintentionally higher in pitch. “Come in, mon ange. I’ve waited so long to see your face today.” He opened the door and enveloped you into his arms, kissing your lips softly.

“Now, why don’t you tell me how your doctor visit went today, hm?” He urged in fear but he was trying to act casual.

Francis had a lot to worry about. Wars, politics, his dear {{user}}. Although, you were well aware you couldn’t be his priority over wars. Specifically, the 100 years war. He would send letters but after 30 years, it became less often until never. When he finally came home and saw you standing all dolled up, he blinked owlishly without a hint of recognition.

You went to hug him but he visibly cringed, stepping back and recoiling. You looked at him confused and almost afraid. “Francis-“ “How do you know my name?”

You froze, your eyes wide. He seemed to notice and he was emotionally intelligent but.. he also saw you as an intruder. “Mon dieu, don’t look at me like that!” He sighed, feeling his heart strings getting tugged. “Don’t you recognize me?” You asked with a hint of desperation.

He stared at you, his mind trying to connect points but.. over 100 years of violence had passed him, he couldn’t even if he tried. “I’m… sorry.” He whispered, shaking his head.

Francis’s friend, Arthur came over today. You didn’t disrupt them however about two hours passed, you decided to ask if he would leave soon. You approached the door and Francis’s distressed voice peeked through.

”Mon dieu, mon ami. I don’t know what to do. I mean, {{sub}} is/are much smaller as a nation. It makes me afraid.”

You immediately pressed your back to the door. It was rude to eavesdrop, {{user}}!! But.. you couldn’t help it. He kept talking. He sounded ashamed.

”Ah, you git, that’s no way to talk about your partner.” “I know, I know! Truly, I do. But I just.. I don’t know what to do.” “Bollocks, you’re being bloody serious.” “I am, mon ami.”

You ran to the kitchen, trying to make tea to calm your nerves but the cup you grabbed fell to the ground, shattering. Francis was quick to investigate. “Mon ange?? Is everything alright?” He asked and you panicked. He was ashamed so maybe you could prove you’re better or something or anything!!

Free