[Fanfic] Request fill 3: France/UK WWII Relations
Title: Thank You Infinitely
Author/Artist: sayasama
Character(s) or Pairing(s): France/England
Rating: Pg-PG-13 max
Warnings: OOC big time... I'm sorry, but I just can't picture France being his usual self while under Nazi/Vichy rule D: And Un-beta'd.
Summary: "I'll fight for you, even if I have to do it alone."
A/N: Requested byunasuvas who wanted France/UK from World War II. I had an idea for this one, yet somehow I think I did it wrong. France is too serious.... it's so not France-nii-chan! But then hey, this guy can pull off just about any personality he wants, really so... Maybe it is? In any case, enjoy~?
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It is much easier, Francis thinks, to honestly express how grateful he is to England now than it will be later. It is easier now because his people have been thrown into poverty after being forced to pay off Germany’s war expenses. It is easier at this point in time to bow his head and let thanks roll off his tongue because innocent hostages have been killed over the smallest acts of resistance. It is easier now for Francis to shower Arthur with praise because England is his liberator, who has fought and is still fighting to free him from Germany’s hold.
“You won’t be able to fend off this invasion.” England states this fact with no overtones of amusement or haughtiness. His expression is as grave as France’s at the moment, because the Germans have come into France through the Ardennes and they both know what that means for him. It wouldn’t be long now, before Ludwig comes and forces Francis to live under his rule.
“I know, but I will still try.”
“Not alone you won’t.” France’s eyes widened just a bit at the statement; he’d suspected this was coming but still, to hear it from the Englishman’s mouth himself was a shock. To think that England, who is always poised to turn against him, would be offering him help now! And yet he knows, has always known, that his greatest enemy is also his dearest ally.
“I will fight for you and with you. When you can’t keep that little snot of a country out anymore, I’ll fight for your freedom from him,” England continues with a tone so resolute France can do nothing but believe in his words. He stares into bright green eyes that shine with purpose, and knows that the smaller man with keep his word.
“I will fight for you, even if I have to do it alone.”
France thinks this with bittersweet overtones as he comes face to face with England for the first time since a bit before D-day. It wasn’t so long ago, really, but to France it felt like an eternity has passed. Now everything that had been turned on its head is being righted, everything is going back to how it should be. This war will be over soon, France can tell. It is because things are returning to normal that France feels bothered by the fact that he owes England his thanks for this. However, the sense of liberation that has settled in his chest is worth more than his pride and his long-standing tradition of aggravating England at every opportunity.
Francis does not live in Ludwig’s house, he is just under his rule and being painfully exploited. France’s working class can’t afford to pay for Germany’s war, they’re starving and dying and France is loathe to admit just how little he can do about it. But even as his people starve, living terrorized under Nazi and Vichy rule, there’s still a shred of hope.
England visits often, and every time he does he brings news of the war. He really does seem to be fighting alone but he’s upholding his promise to free France as best as he can. He tells the older nation about the French resistance in London, tells him that he should be proud of his people, who are so willing to face off with the devil for the sake of their country. It makes Francis smile and judging by the way the tension in the Brit’s body fades and he becomes more relaxed, he assumes that was the goal.
England doesn’t look particularly haughty when they meet; instead he looks tired but determined. It is still there though, in bright green eyes that shimmer as they look at him, in the quirk of his lips. (The expression is a smirk in France’s eyes, an expression of pride that rubs the undeniable truth in his face. ‘You needed me to save you,’ it says, ‘You still need me now.’ And it is that message that lets France know that this war will soon end, that they will be able to return to being the natural born enemies they are.)
On second thought, perhaps he does look a bit smug.
“I’ll continue fighting for you,” England says every time before he leaves, “even though I’m alone.”
One time when he says this, one hand on the doorknob the other reaching for his hat, France feels overcome by the desire to reach out and take hold of that hand. He does, his expression serious in a way that is different from the solemnity of before. The smaller man gives him a questioning glance, to which France responds by pulling him away from the door and toward him, making the smaller man fall into his chest.
“Wh-what in the-“
France says nothing, just holds the other nation close to him. England is confused by this, confused and slightly uncomfortable because the fact that France isn’t attempting to grope him makes him painfully aware of just how much this war has affected the other.
France grins his typical grin, the one that invites everyone to much more than a pleasant chat. He does it because it’s expected of him, because things are righting themselves now, because his heart belongs to himself once again so he feels more like his old self. He can see the hint of disapproval this grin always earns him in England’s eyes, along with a flicker of embarrassment; Arthur’s missed this expression, he knows, the man is just too uptight to admit it.
The tension of their meeting, he can feel it in the air already. It’s a little spark that lights whenever they are together. France loves it, revels in it, fans the flames any way he can. But today, today he will try to keep things peaceful, because he is genuinely thankful to England for liberating his people, fighting even though he was alone, as he promised he would. France wonders if he should let this spark die completely or not.
“I-I have to go now, don’t hold me up like this…” England says weakly, he feels that France is too fragile in the moment, he cannot raise his voice like he usually would. The arms around him constrict a bit and he doesn’t mind, not really.
“This is a foolish question, I’m sure, but I must ask why you are so determined to save me,” France says, his voice sounds like something sweetly sad and it’s just, just too unusual and Arthur wants it to go away so that his old tone may take its place.
“Because clearly, the only one allowed to fight you is me!” England says quickly, and he is thankful that his face is hidden in the other’s shirt. He is doing this because England is not England without France, they are necessary to each other and that balance should not be upset.
“So I’m yours to scuffle with and yours alone, then?” There’s a hint of amusement in the other man’s voice now, and he thinks that truly, England can never just say what he means plainly.
They are alone now, so though there is no need to be formal there is also no need for shame (not to say France really has any concept of that, anyway). So he drops to one knee and as he kneels he takes one of England’s thin, pretty hands in his larger ones, brings it to his lips.
“Merci infiniment,” he murmurs over the other’s knuckles, his eyes looking straight into surprised green ones. He thinks it might embarrass England when he does this, which is half of the reason why he does in the first place.
“Don’t be so grateful, I just did what I promised I would.” England is still unused to dealing with this side of France, though at this point he’s sure France is just doing it to fluster him. He feels a small grin against his hand and knows he’s right.
“But I must thank you. You’ve restored my heart to me, after all.”
"Don’t twist my words like that! Making them mean what you please!” England gives a bit of genuine resistance against France’s hold and manages to put some space between them. France is grinning down at him, it is very much like his old expression. It gives rise to a mix of relief and indignity.
“Have I changed your true meaning so much though?” England makes a face at this, one that says he doesn’t want to give an honest answer, but doesn’t want to lie either. It’s a cute expression that makes France’s grin widen. He finally releases the other, who quickly turns back to the door because his face is heating up and he will not show France such an expression, not even now.
“I will be back,” he says instead of answering the question that is still floating between them, “and I will continue to fight for you, even if I’m alone.”
As France watches England walk out the door, he knows that it will not be long before the other sets him free.
-----
Notes:
-England's line is based off of something Chruchill said. He swore to fight for France's freedom, even if England had to do it alone.
-France's "heart" refers to Paris, which was liberated a few months after the Normandy Landings.
Nothing much else, sad to say. This entire fic was pretty much based off of this. That, and all of the links given in that article, along with a bit of research on D-Day.
Ah... I hope this is okay ^^;
Author/Artist: sayasama
Character(s) or Pairing(s): France/England
Rating: Pg-PG-13 max
Warnings: OOC big time... I'm sorry, but I just can't picture France being his usual self while under Nazi/Vichy rule D: And Un-beta'd.
Summary: "I'll fight for you, even if I have to do it alone."
A/N: Requested byunasuvas who wanted France/UK from World War II. I had an idea for this one, yet somehow I think I did it wrong. France is too serious.... it's so not France-nii-chan! But then hey, this guy can pull off just about any personality he wants, really so... Maybe it is? In any case, enjoy~?
-----
It is much easier, Francis thinks, to honestly express how grateful he is to England now than it will be later. It is easier now because his people have been thrown into poverty after being forced to pay off Germany’s war expenses. It is easier at this point in time to bow his head and let thanks roll off his tongue because innocent hostages have been killed over the smallest acts of resistance. It is easier now for Francis to shower Arthur with praise because England is his liberator, who has fought and is still fighting to free him from Germany’s hold.
“You won’t be able to fend off this invasion.” England states this fact with no overtones of amusement or haughtiness. His expression is as grave as France’s at the moment, because the Germans have come into France through the Ardennes and they both know what that means for him. It wouldn’t be long now, before Ludwig comes and forces Francis to live under his rule.
“I know, but I will still try.”
“Not alone you won’t.” France’s eyes widened just a bit at the statement; he’d suspected this was coming but still, to hear it from the Englishman’s mouth himself was a shock. To think that England, who is always poised to turn against him, would be offering him help now! And yet he knows, has always known, that his greatest enemy is also his dearest ally.
“I will fight for you and with you. When you can’t keep that little snot of a country out anymore, I’ll fight for your freedom from him,” England continues with a tone so resolute France can do nothing but believe in his words. He stares into bright green eyes that shine with purpose, and knows that the smaller man with keep his word.
“I will fight for you, even if I have to do it alone.”
France thinks this with bittersweet overtones as he comes face to face with England for the first time since a bit before D-day. It wasn’t so long ago, really, but to France it felt like an eternity has passed. Now everything that had been turned on its head is being righted, everything is going back to how it should be. This war will be over soon, France can tell. It is because things are returning to normal that France feels bothered by the fact that he owes England his thanks for this. However, the sense of liberation that has settled in his chest is worth more than his pride and his long-standing tradition of aggravating England at every opportunity.
Francis does not live in Ludwig’s house, he is just under his rule and being painfully exploited. France’s working class can’t afford to pay for Germany’s war, they’re starving and dying and France is loathe to admit just how little he can do about it. But even as his people starve, living terrorized under Nazi and Vichy rule, there’s still a shred of hope.
England visits often, and every time he does he brings news of the war. He really does seem to be fighting alone but he’s upholding his promise to free France as best as he can. He tells the older nation about the French resistance in London, tells him that he should be proud of his people, who are so willing to face off with the devil for the sake of their country. It makes Francis smile and judging by the way the tension in the Brit’s body fades and he becomes more relaxed, he assumes that was the goal.
England doesn’t look particularly haughty when they meet; instead he looks tired but determined. It is still there though, in bright green eyes that shimmer as they look at him, in the quirk of his lips. (The expression is a smirk in France’s eyes, an expression of pride that rubs the undeniable truth in his face. ‘You needed me to save you,’ it says, ‘You still need me now.’ And it is that message that lets France know that this war will soon end, that they will be able to return to being the natural born enemies they are.)
On second thought, perhaps he does look a bit smug.
“I’ll continue fighting for you,” England says every time before he leaves, “even though I’m alone.”
One time when he says this, one hand on the doorknob the other reaching for his hat, France feels overcome by the desire to reach out and take hold of that hand. He does, his expression serious in a way that is different from the solemnity of before. The smaller man gives him a questioning glance, to which France responds by pulling him away from the door and toward him, making the smaller man fall into his chest.
“Wh-what in the-“
France says nothing, just holds the other nation close to him. England is confused by this, confused and slightly uncomfortable because the fact that France isn’t attempting to grope him makes him painfully aware of just how much this war has affected the other.
France grins his typical grin, the one that invites everyone to much more than a pleasant chat. He does it because it’s expected of him, because things are righting themselves now, because his heart belongs to himself once again so he feels more like his old self. He can see the hint of disapproval this grin always earns him in England’s eyes, along with a flicker of embarrassment; Arthur’s missed this expression, he knows, the man is just too uptight to admit it.
The tension of their meeting, he can feel it in the air already. It’s a little spark that lights whenever they are together. France loves it, revels in it, fans the flames any way he can. But today, today he will try to keep things peaceful, because he is genuinely thankful to England for liberating his people, fighting even though he was alone, as he promised he would. France wonders if he should let this spark die completely or not.
“I-I have to go now, don’t hold me up like this…” England says weakly, he feels that France is too fragile in the moment, he cannot raise his voice like he usually would. The arms around him constrict a bit and he doesn’t mind, not really.
“This is a foolish question, I’m sure, but I must ask why you are so determined to save me,” France says, his voice sounds like something sweetly sad and it’s just, just too unusual and Arthur wants it to go away so that his old tone may take its place.
“Because clearly, the only one allowed to fight you is me!” England says quickly, and he is thankful that his face is hidden in the other’s shirt. He is doing this because England is not England without France, they are necessary to each other and that balance should not be upset.
“So I’m yours to scuffle with and yours alone, then?” There’s a hint of amusement in the other man’s voice now, and he thinks that truly, England can never just say what he means plainly.
They are alone now, so though there is no need to be formal there is also no need for shame (not to say France really has any concept of that, anyway). So he drops to one knee and as he kneels he takes one of England’s thin, pretty hands in his larger ones, brings it to his lips.
“Merci infiniment,” he murmurs over the other’s knuckles, his eyes looking straight into surprised green ones. He thinks it might embarrass England when he does this, which is half of the reason why he does in the first place.
“Don’t be so grateful, I just did what I promised I would.” England is still unused to dealing with this side of France, though at this point he’s sure France is just doing it to fluster him. He feels a small grin against his hand and knows he’s right.
“But I must thank you. You’ve restored my heart to me, after all.”
"Don’t twist my words like that! Making them mean what you please!” England gives a bit of genuine resistance against France’s hold and manages to put some space between them. France is grinning down at him, it is very much like his old expression. It gives rise to a mix of relief and indignity.
“Have I changed your true meaning so much though?” England makes a face at this, one that says he doesn’t want to give an honest answer, but doesn’t want to lie either. It’s a cute expression that makes France’s grin widen. He finally releases the other, who quickly turns back to the door because his face is heating up and he will not show France such an expression, not even now.
“I will be back,” he says instead of answering the question that is still floating between them, “and I will continue to fight for you, even if I’m alone.”
As France watches England walk out the door, he knows that it will not be long before the other sets him free.
-----
Notes:
-England's line is based off of something Chruchill said. He swore to fight for France's freedom, even if England had to do it alone.
-France's "heart" refers to Paris, which was liberated a few months after the Normandy Landings.
Nothing much else, sad to say. This entire fic was pretty much based off of this. That, and all of the links given in that article, along with a bit of research on D-Day.
Ah... I hope this is okay ^^;