The Nine Circles (5/?) [fanfiction]
Title: The Nine Circles
Author: marinoa
Rated: T
Characters/Pairings: Germany, France, England, Romano, Japan, Russia and America. Some pairings.
Summary: Seven nations, seven deadly sins, and fellows waiting to be saved - that's already catastrophic enough, but adding to the bunch the nine circles, it's... Yes, it's hell.
The Nine Circles
Chapter five:
What Do We Learn About Hell
The sound of a needle falling would have seemed enormous in the silence that had fallen.
Arthur stared at Francis. Francis stared at Cleopatra. Cleopatra kept staring at Francis, while eyes of other nations moved back and froth between the legendary Queen and the sin of Lust. The howling of the wind and the sounds coming from other sinners sentenced to the second circle had all faded away around the tight-knit group of nations. Oddly, Francis felt the wind no longer affecting him in any way, on the contrary to the previous tearing about.
Though, he'd much rather take the wind than... this.
"I... beg your pardon?" he managed to say, watching the gorgeous woman before him; he didn't even dare as much as glance to Arthur's direction.
There was something akin to a flash of amusement in the eyes of Cleopatra. She raised her hand to lightly touch her hair and smiled most sweetly. "I will give you the key to the next level only if you accompany me in my bed. This," she added, "is the circle of lust after all, so it's only obvious that the trial is what I announced it to be."
"And how is him sleeping with you a trial, if I may ask?" Arthur spat, a sharp edge in his tone audible in spite of his attempt to hide it.
"Why, I do need to know if he's deserved his title as Lust."
"Right," Arthur retorted sarcastically but shut his mouth tightly; a certain sign that he was either angry or worried, or perhaps both. Curious, the Frenchman found himself thinking, he clearly opposes the idea... and yet I can't be sure whether it's because he's just so possessive, in a bad mood or because he might love me. Ah, the real hell was the uncertainty of the two men about where they stood with each other!
"There is something to this that I can't get a grasp of," Kiku muttered, but Francis was positive nobody else heard him. He, however, agreed with the Japanese - why would the trial of lust lie in performing that exact sin if the point was to get more or less rid of it? Not to say that Cleopatra wasn't beautiful - really, she was gorgeous beyond all words - but it wasn't like Francis could take her offer just like that... not anymore, at least.
"I, uh..." He turned to other nations, seeking for help. Arthur naturally averted his eyes, and so did Ludwig in embarrassment, too, but then the German took a hold of himself and met Francis' questionable look. "Is... this the only way to get the key?" he asked awkwardly, to which the ancient Queen nodded in response.
"Just fucking go and do what you have to do so that we might have a chance of getting out of this stupid place!"
Well, at least one could trust for Romano to say straight what he thought. That was, unless the subject matter touched the Italian himself in any way, of course.
"Why are you looking at us?" Ivan asked calmly and somewhat indifferently, nodding to Arthur's direction. "Ask him."
As if that would help, Francis thought, though he admitted that the Russian did have a point in a way. Only that Arthur was clearly unresponsive and sulking, with his back half-turned to the group and busy pretending that he didn't give a damn.
Ludwig cleared his throat. "I don't think we have the right to force anyone into anything, but-"
"What do you mean, we don't have the right?" Romano exploded again. "Have your brains finally turned into that potato mush you love so much? If he won't do it, we'll be stuck here forever!"
"Not only we," Kiku added quietly. "Also all the other nations who were sent to various circles... I agree with Ludwig, but... Romano is partly right as well." His last words were barely audible, as if he was ashamed of pronouncing them aloud.
"I agree with Romano," Ivan merely said, his voice free of emotion.
Alfred, who was yet to say something, squirmed on his spot, eyes guiltily bouncing to and off Arthur. "I kind of agree, too," he said apologetically, but was quick to nervously add in vain attempt to lighten the mood, "But it's not that big a deal, isn't it, it's not every day one gets to sleep with a historical person, ha ha, right..?"
Arthur let out a choked excuse of a laughter and not looking at Francis, spoke. "What are you all trying to get at? This has nothing to do with me, it's all about Francis!"
Yeah, right, was left unsaid in the air, but it seemed that everybody including Arthur heard those words anyway. "What are you waiting for? Just go and fucking do it!" the Englishman said and, finally raising his head, pierced Francis' eyes with his own, sternly, as if challenging him into something. The Frenchman met the look surprisingly calmly, trying to see what was hidden behind those green irises, but Ludwig's awkward, quiet clearing of throat made Francis turn away. He drew in a breath and shook his head, rubbing the stubble on his chin. Great, he so hated it when everybody's expectations rested upon him in such serious matters... And now it was even worse, because the succeeding of them all depended on him, too. And it wasn't like his fellows hadn't made clear their minds about it.
"Merde," he grumbled quietly, then looked at the others. "What choices do I have? Fine, I'll do it!"
Ludwig and Kiku nodded, but Arthur turned away. Damn, it kind of stung seeing his reaction.
Cleopatra instead looked pleased. "Made you decision? Very good," she said, contented like a cat with a plate of cream. "Now then, follow me; I have a marquee not far from here. The rest of you, please wait here, we'll return after we are done."
She turned to walk away, inviting with a single glance Francis to follow. He did so, giving one last look to the group left waiting. He felt an urge to say something, yet his mind was empty of words - what could one possibly say in a situation like that? And so he silently turned to follow the elegant frame of the ancient Queen.
Oddly, although the wind started storming everywhere again (including the nations left waiting), it didn't have an effect on the Frenchman or his beautiful companion when they walked towards something Francis couldn't yet see; the rocky scenery and suffering human souls surrounded them in the way not different from before. The tent the Queen had talked about was nowhere to be seen.
"This way," she said and lead the Frenchman behind a huge rock - and there was the tent. It was rather grand; the material looked like silk, and it was flaming red with golden ornaments. Cleopatra walked to it and opened slightly the fly, giving an utterly tempting look at Francis. Two centuries ago the Frenchman wouldn't have hesitated to follow that sort of look.
"Shall we?" she asked and disappeared inside.
Francis swallowed, his throat suddenly so dry it almost hurt, and licked his slightly choppy lips. This was torture - a beautiful woman wishing to sleep with him, but he couldn't do it, hell, didn't even want to do it, and yet he had to. In his past days now gone he would have gladly accepted, but now... now he felt like he was walking towards a scaffold with an executioner waiting for him.
With heavy steps, he followed the Queen inside to find her laying on a grand, comfortable-looking bed, her white gown covering her body, yet calling attention to it.
"Come to me," she whispered, and Francis, all numb, obeyed.
Everything happened like in a dream, or deep in a misty haze. Feeling distant from his physical being the Frenchman let his body mechanically do what it did the best, but his mind - his heart - wasn't in with it. He caused and received wicked pleasure, but it all felt so distant, so very distant, and then- then it was suddenly over.
Francis blinked, finding himself on top of Cleopatra, gazing at her face, her parted lips and her lusty eyes. She breathed unevenly and almost purred of pleasure. "Mmm," she said somewhat dreamily, "You do live up to your reputation, sin of Lust..."
Quickly, Francis crawled off her and began collecting his clothes that had been shed on the ground. "The key," he only nonchalantly said, not looking at her; he felt sick to his stomach.
"Oh yes... the key. I shall give it to you as soon as we are back to your waiting friends."
Cleopatra certainly didn't hurry; she took her time with picking her dress and slowly pulling it on, inch by inch, as if to purposely torment Francis. However, eventually they were back to the group of waiting nations. Even from a distance, the Frenchman could see that the wind wasn't going easy on them and he felt guilt mixed with relief for apparently being protected from it by Cleopatra's presence.
When they were in the speaking distance, Alfred couldn't restrain himself any longer. "Well, how was it? I-I mean, did you get the key?"
Francis turned to Cleopatra beside him, who put her hand into the folds of her dress and pulled out a big, bronze key. "Here," she said, her voice all sweet, handing the item to the Frenchman with a wink. "You certainly deserved this."
"Bloody brilliant," Arthur almost barked, his arms tightly crossed over his chest. "Now we are all happy. Where's the bloody door-"
He was cut off by a shocked cry from Romano. "What the-"
Francis only stared numbly. Stared, as the bronze key in his hand started to crumble and turn into dust that the wind immediately caught and sent scurrying.
"What..." he whispered, then raised his eyes to bore them into the Queen's. "What is this?" he demanded, his voice hardening as his fingers now clenched empty air instead of firm material.
The woman's lips curved up into a mocking smile. "That's a key turning to dust."
"The fuck, why?"
And suddenly Cleopatra burst into a laughter. "Because it's a false key!" she uttered between the shakes of laughter.
"You fucking bitch, then give us the right key!" Romano yelled, fisting his hands in rage.
"Oh, but I can't," the Queen mused. "You see my dear, I don't have it in my possession."
"But you promised!"
Cleopatra's laughter died down as suddenly as it had begun, and now she looked only exasperated. "Indeed I did," she said. "But where do you think you are, in heaven? I have no reasons to help you."
There was a stunned silence, but then the situation finally sunk in Francis' mind. Without even realising what he was doing, he lunged at the woman, fully intending to strangle her. That was the moment, however, when the invisible barrier that had protected the Frenchman from the wind gave in, and the air hit against him with all its stormy power. "Putain, you lying whore!" he yelled as the wind forced him down on his knees. All for nothing, all for nothing, all for fucking nothing! Still shouting insults both in French and English, Francis attempted standing up and getting his hands to that witch's throat, but in vain. Had he looked around, he would have seen how Arthur's shoulders slumped, defeated, or how Alfred and Romano together joined Francis for his violent attempt, or how the air around Ivan turned dark purple.
"Why," Ludwig asked through his gritted teeth, "did you use us - him - in that way?"
"Why?" Cleopatra repeated, a new, bitter edge in her voice. "Because. Ask the Lust - isn't he here for having been doing exactly the same?" And with that, she turned around and started walking away.
"Get back here you fucking witch!" Alfred yelled after her, but she was too far already. Romano had slumped to the ground again, angrily covering his eyes with his hands in vain attempt to hide how beaten he was now that the hopes were crushed. Francis, too, had stopped yelling, only watched after the damned Queen. She had almost reached the rock behind which her tent was located, when a strong gust of wind grabbed her and threw on the ground, just like other suffering souls.
"That's right," Kiku said quietly. "She is one of the habitants of this circle, to suffer her own punishment, not to help others." The Japanese sighed, sitting down as carefully as he could without the wind throwing him. "And we are back at the point zero."
Ivan continued standing, staring at Cleopatra's painstaking, distancing form with a cruel, tiny smile on his lips. "I can't stand being deceived," he muttered quietly to himself, but Ludwig heard him nonetheless.
"That's right," the German said, getting down on one knee. "We were deceived... But at least now we have learned our lesson. We can't afford being gullible anymore; we cannot trust anybody here. Nobody offers anything for free, and those who do, lie."
"For free?" Francis interrupted, laughing bitterly. "You call this for free?"
"Err, well, relatively," Ludwig said compromisingly. "I do not mean to offend - she just offered her help of her own good will, as it first looked like. That's what I meant, there is no such thing as good will in this place. We must be more careful from now on."
"There is nothing good in this place," Romano whined quietly, not aiming his words to anyone particular.
"Now what," Ivan more stated than asked, as if he didn't even care that much and spoke only to appear concerned about their situation. Who knew what he really felt or thought about the whole matter in that chest of his that always appeared so frozen?
"Maybe we should rest a bit," Kiku suggested, glancing warily at Romano, who looked like breaking down at any moment, Francis, who looked exhausted to death, and Arthur, who hadn't uttered a word and looked so strained that he would snap from a tiniest push.
"This is not too cool a place to rest," Alfred complained and turned to gawk at the Russian. "Hey, what the fuck, let's sit down, Ivan."
"Let's," Ivan agreed immediately, and the two rivalry nations sat down in union, finally ending their stupid wordless battle. For the time being.
Francis watched them, how they were sitting in peace now - however short-lived it may be - and felt jealousy, because after arriving in hell, he and Arthur had shared only one peaceful moment, and that had been ended rather abruptly by Cleopatra's appearance. A disturbing need to more or less clarify things between himself and Arthur, the Frenchman shifted to where the Englishman was sitting, arms wrapped around his knees.
"I'm sorry," he said - a good way to start almost any conversation.
"Don't," Arthur uttered nonchalantly. "It... it wasn't your fault."
The hesitation in Arthur's words made Francis wince. "I know. I did what she asked," he retorted just a bit defensively, but Arthur took his words in completely wrong a way - as he always did. Sometimes the Frenchman wondered if Arthur did that on purpose, or if it was his subconscious habit that got stronger by practise, or if the Englishman really always felt that insecure.
"Oh I'm bloody sure you did!" Arthur uttered a humourless laughter in response to the Frenchman's words, making him frown; the Englishman was pushing it. "Too bad she didn't tell you beforehand that she was tricking us- you... did she?"
Merde, there was a limit to anything, particularly to Arthur's endless taunting, goddamnit! Francis pierced the Englishman with the most icy look he could muster, effectively getting him baffled. "For the love of heavens, Arthur, if you are trying to blame it all on me again I-"
"I don't!" Arthur hastily cut him off. "I just..."
Francis fixed the Englishman with a slightly hurt look as if asking to continue, waiting.
"I just... didn't want you to... to... do that, and now-" The Englishman kept his eyes on his hands that were now nervously tugging at the sleeves of his uniform. "I'm sorry," he finished quietly, and for the first time in what felt like eternity, Francis' lips stretched into a soft smile.
There was an opening in Arthur's defence, and the Frenchman was well going to use it. "Why?" he asked. "Why didn't you want me to sleep with her?"
If possible, the Englishman only stiffened more. "I don't know... I knew there must be a reason why she was in hell and not in bloody heaven, so..." he trailed off.
Wait, was Francis reading into it a bit too much, or... "Arthur," he said, disbelieve evident in his tone. "Were you worried about me?"
"...You could put it that way," Arthur answered evasively, and Francis knew that was as much as he was going to get out of him for some time now - if there even was anything more. But the Frenchman was strangely positive that there just might.
"Thank you," he said slightly jokingly to make it all feel less serious and thus more safe. "That was sweet."
"Do shut up," Arthur said, and with that, everything was more or less back to normal between the two nations.
For the time being.
xXx
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Author: marinoa
Rated: T
Characters/Pairings: Germany, France, England, Romano, Japan, Russia and America. Some pairings.
Summary: Seven nations, seven deadly sins, and fellows waiting to be saved - that's already catastrophic enough, but adding to the bunch the nine circles, it's... Yes, it's hell.
The Nine Circles
Chapter five:
What Do We Learn About Hell
The sound of a needle falling would have seemed enormous in the silence that had fallen.
Arthur stared at Francis. Francis stared at Cleopatra. Cleopatra kept staring at Francis, while eyes of other nations moved back and froth between the legendary Queen and the sin of Lust. The howling of the wind and the sounds coming from other sinners sentenced to the second circle had all faded away around the tight-knit group of nations. Oddly, Francis felt the wind no longer affecting him in any way, on the contrary to the previous tearing about.
Though, he'd much rather take the wind than... this.
"I... beg your pardon?" he managed to say, watching the gorgeous woman before him; he didn't even dare as much as glance to Arthur's direction.
There was something akin to a flash of amusement in the eyes of Cleopatra. She raised her hand to lightly touch her hair and smiled most sweetly. "I will give you the key to the next level only if you accompany me in my bed. This," she added, "is the circle of lust after all, so it's only obvious that the trial is what I announced it to be."
"And how is him sleeping with you a trial, if I may ask?" Arthur spat, a sharp edge in his tone audible in spite of his attempt to hide it.
"Why, I do need to know if he's deserved his title as Lust."
"Right," Arthur retorted sarcastically but shut his mouth tightly; a certain sign that he was either angry or worried, or perhaps both. Curious, the Frenchman found himself thinking, he clearly opposes the idea... and yet I can't be sure whether it's because he's just so possessive, in a bad mood or because he might love me. Ah, the real hell was the uncertainty of the two men about where they stood with each other!
"There is something to this that I can't get a grasp of," Kiku muttered, but Francis was positive nobody else heard him. He, however, agreed with the Japanese - why would the trial of lust lie in performing that exact sin if the point was to get more or less rid of it? Not to say that Cleopatra wasn't beautiful - really, she was gorgeous beyond all words - but it wasn't like Francis could take her offer just like that... not anymore, at least.
"I, uh..." He turned to other nations, seeking for help. Arthur naturally averted his eyes, and so did Ludwig in embarrassment, too, but then the German took a hold of himself and met Francis' questionable look. "Is... this the only way to get the key?" he asked awkwardly, to which the ancient Queen nodded in response.
"Just fucking go and do what you have to do so that we might have a chance of getting out of this stupid place!"
Well, at least one could trust for Romano to say straight what he thought. That was, unless the subject matter touched the Italian himself in any way, of course.
"Why are you looking at us?" Ivan asked calmly and somewhat indifferently, nodding to Arthur's direction. "Ask him."
As if that would help, Francis thought, though he admitted that the Russian did have a point in a way. Only that Arthur was clearly unresponsive and sulking, with his back half-turned to the group and busy pretending that he didn't give a damn.
Ludwig cleared his throat. "I don't think we have the right to force anyone into anything, but-"
"What do you mean, we don't have the right?" Romano exploded again. "Have your brains finally turned into that potato mush you love so much? If he won't do it, we'll be stuck here forever!"
"Not only we," Kiku added quietly. "Also all the other nations who were sent to various circles... I agree with Ludwig, but... Romano is partly right as well." His last words were barely audible, as if he was ashamed of pronouncing them aloud.
"I agree with Romano," Ivan merely said, his voice free of emotion.
Alfred, who was yet to say something, squirmed on his spot, eyes guiltily bouncing to and off Arthur. "I kind of agree, too," he said apologetically, but was quick to nervously add in vain attempt to lighten the mood, "But it's not that big a deal, isn't it, it's not every day one gets to sleep with a historical person, ha ha, right..?"
Arthur let out a choked excuse of a laughter and not looking at Francis, spoke. "What are you all trying to get at? This has nothing to do with me, it's all about Francis!"
Yeah, right, was left unsaid in the air, but it seemed that everybody including Arthur heard those words anyway. "What are you waiting for? Just go and fucking do it!" the Englishman said and, finally raising his head, pierced Francis' eyes with his own, sternly, as if challenging him into something. The Frenchman met the look surprisingly calmly, trying to see what was hidden behind those green irises, but Ludwig's awkward, quiet clearing of throat made Francis turn away. He drew in a breath and shook his head, rubbing the stubble on his chin. Great, he so hated it when everybody's expectations rested upon him in such serious matters... And now it was even worse, because the succeeding of them all depended on him, too. And it wasn't like his fellows hadn't made clear their minds about it.
"Merde," he grumbled quietly, then looked at the others. "What choices do I have? Fine, I'll do it!"
Ludwig and Kiku nodded, but Arthur turned away. Damn, it kind of stung seeing his reaction.
Cleopatra instead looked pleased. "Made you decision? Very good," she said, contented like a cat with a plate of cream. "Now then, follow me; I have a marquee not far from here. The rest of you, please wait here, we'll return after we are done."
She turned to walk away, inviting with a single glance Francis to follow. He did so, giving one last look to the group left waiting. He felt an urge to say something, yet his mind was empty of words - what could one possibly say in a situation like that? And so he silently turned to follow the elegant frame of the ancient Queen.
Oddly, although the wind started storming everywhere again (including the nations left waiting), it didn't have an effect on the Frenchman or his beautiful companion when they walked towards something Francis couldn't yet see; the rocky scenery and suffering human souls surrounded them in the way not different from before. The tent the Queen had talked about was nowhere to be seen.
"This way," she said and lead the Frenchman behind a huge rock - and there was the tent. It was rather grand; the material looked like silk, and it was flaming red with golden ornaments. Cleopatra walked to it and opened slightly the fly, giving an utterly tempting look at Francis. Two centuries ago the Frenchman wouldn't have hesitated to follow that sort of look.
"Shall we?" she asked and disappeared inside.
Francis swallowed, his throat suddenly so dry it almost hurt, and licked his slightly choppy lips. This was torture - a beautiful woman wishing to sleep with him, but he couldn't do it, hell, didn't even want to do it, and yet he had to. In his past days now gone he would have gladly accepted, but now... now he felt like he was walking towards a scaffold with an executioner waiting for him.
With heavy steps, he followed the Queen inside to find her laying on a grand, comfortable-looking bed, her white gown covering her body, yet calling attention to it.
"Come to me," she whispered, and Francis, all numb, obeyed.
Everything happened like in a dream, or deep in a misty haze. Feeling distant from his physical being the Frenchman let his body mechanically do what it did the best, but his mind - his heart - wasn't in with it. He caused and received wicked pleasure, but it all felt so distant, so very distant, and then- then it was suddenly over.
Francis blinked, finding himself on top of Cleopatra, gazing at her face, her parted lips and her lusty eyes. She breathed unevenly and almost purred of pleasure. "Mmm," she said somewhat dreamily, "You do live up to your reputation, sin of Lust..."
Quickly, Francis crawled off her and began collecting his clothes that had been shed on the ground. "The key," he only nonchalantly said, not looking at her; he felt sick to his stomach.
"Oh yes... the key. I shall give it to you as soon as we are back to your waiting friends."
Cleopatra certainly didn't hurry; she took her time with picking her dress and slowly pulling it on, inch by inch, as if to purposely torment Francis. However, eventually they were back to the group of waiting nations. Even from a distance, the Frenchman could see that the wind wasn't going easy on them and he felt guilt mixed with relief for apparently being protected from it by Cleopatra's presence.
When they were in the speaking distance, Alfred couldn't restrain himself any longer. "Well, how was it? I-I mean, did you get the key?"
Francis turned to Cleopatra beside him, who put her hand into the folds of her dress and pulled out a big, bronze key. "Here," she said, her voice all sweet, handing the item to the Frenchman with a wink. "You certainly deserved this."
"Bloody brilliant," Arthur almost barked, his arms tightly crossed over his chest. "Now we are all happy. Where's the bloody door-"
He was cut off by a shocked cry from Romano. "What the-"
Francis only stared numbly. Stared, as the bronze key in his hand started to crumble and turn into dust that the wind immediately caught and sent scurrying.
"What..." he whispered, then raised his eyes to bore them into the Queen's. "What is this?" he demanded, his voice hardening as his fingers now clenched empty air instead of firm material.
The woman's lips curved up into a mocking smile. "That's a key turning to dust."
"The fuck, why?"
And suddenly Cleopatra burst into a laughter. "Because it's a false key!" she uttered between the shakes of laughter.
"You fucking bitch, then give us the right key!" Romano yelled, fisting his hands in rage.
"Oh, but I can't," the Queen mused. "You see my dear, I don't have it in my possession."
"But you promised!"
Cleopatra's laughter died down as suddenly as it had begun, and now she looked only exasperated. "Indeed I did," she said. "But where do you think you are, in heaven? I have no reasons to help you."
There was a stunned silence, but then the situation finally sunk in Francis' mind. Without even realising what he was doing, he lunged at the woman, fully intending to strangle her. That was the moment, however, when the invisible barrier that had protected the Frenchman from the wind gave in, and the air hit against him with all its stormy power. "Putain, you lying whore!" he yelled as the wind forced him down on his knees. All for nothing, all for nothing, all for fucking nothing! Still shouting insults both in French and English, Francis attempted standing up and getting his hands to that witch's throat, but in vain. Had he looked around, he would have seen how Arthur's shoulders slumped, defeated, or how Alfred and Romano together joined Francis for his violent attempt, or how the air around Ivan turned dark purple.
"Why," Ludwig asked through his gritted teeth, "did you use us - him - in that way?"
"Why?" Cleopatra repeated, a new, bitter edge in her voice. "Because. Ask the Lust - isn't he here for having been doing exactly the same?" And with that, she turned around and started walking away.
"Get back here you fucking witch!" Alfred yelled after her, but she was too far already. Romano had slumped to the ground again, angrily covering his eyes with his hands in vain attempt to hide how beaten he was now that the hopes were crushed. Francis, too, had stopped yelling, only watched after the damned Queen. She had almost reached the rock behind which her tent was located, when a strong gust of wind grabbed her and threw on the ground, just like other suffering souls.
"That's right," Kiku said quietly. "She is one of the habitants of this circle, to suffer her own punishment, not to help others." The Japanese sighed, sitting down as carefully as he could without the wind throwing him. "And we are back at the point zero."
Ivan continued standing, staring at Cleopatra's painstaking, distancing form with a cruel, tiny smile on his lips. "I can't stand being deceived," he muttered quietly to himself, but Ludwig heard him nonetheless.
"That's right," the German said, getting down on one knee. "We were deceived... But at least now we have learned our lesson. We can't afford being gullible anymore; we cannot trust anybody here. Nobody offers anything for free, and those who do, lie."
"For free?" Francis interrupted, laughing bitterly. "You call this for free?"
"Err, well, relatively," Ludwig said compromisingly. "I do not mean to offend - she just offered her help of her own good will, as it first looked like. That's what I meant, there is no such thing as good will in this place. We must be more careful from now on."
"There is nothing good in this place," Romano whined quietly, not aiming his words to anyone particular.
"Now what," Ivan more stated than asked, as if he didn't even care that much and spoke only to appear concerned about their situation. Who knew what he really felt or thought about the whole matter in that chest of his that always appeared so frozen?
"Maybe we should rest a bit," Kiku suggested, glancing warily at Romano, who looked like breaking down at any moment, Francis, who looked exhausted to death, and Arthur, who hadn't uttered a word and looked so strained that he would snap from a tiniest push.
"This is not too cool a place to rest," Alfred complained and turned to gawk at the Russian. "Hey, what the fuck, let's sit down, Ivan."
"Let's," Ivan agreed immediately, and the two rivalry nations sat down in union, finally ending their stupid wordless battle. For the time being.
Francis watched them, how they were sitting in peace now - however short-lived it may be - and felt jealousy, because after arriving in hell, he and Arthur had shared only one peaceful moment, and that had been ended rather abruptly by Cleopatra's appearance. A disturbing need to more or less clarify things between himself and Arthur, the Frenchman shifted to where the Englishman was sitting, arms wrapped around his knees.
"I'm sorry," he said - a good way to start almost any conversation.
"Don't," Arthur uttered nonchalantly. "It... it wasn't your fault."
The hesitation in Arthur's words made Francis wince. "I know. I did what she asked," he retorted just a bit defensively, but Arthur took his words in completely wrong a way - as he always did. Sometimes the Frenchman wondered if Arthur did that on purpose, or if it was his subconscious habit that got stronger by practise, or if the Englishman really always felt that insecure.
"Oh I'm bloody sure you did!" Arthur uttered a humourless laughter in response to the Frenchman's words, making him frown; the Englishman was pushing it. "Too bad she didn't tell you beforehand that she was tricking us- you... did she?"
Merde, there was a limit to anything, particularly to Arthur's endless taunting, goddamnit! Francis pierced the Englishman with the most icy look he could muster, effectively getting him baffled. "For the love of heavens, Arthur, if you are trying to blame it all on me again I-"
"I don't!" Arthur hastily cut him off. "I just..."
Francis fixed the Englishman with a slightly hurt look as if asking to continue, waiting.
"I just... didn't want you to... to... do that, and now-" The Englishman kept his eyes on his hands that were now nervously tugging at the sleeves of his uniform. "I'm sorry," he finished quietly, and for the first time in what felt like eternity, Francis' lips stretched into a soft smile.
There was an opening in Arthur's defence, and the Frenchman was well going to use it. "Why?" he asked. "Why didn't you want me to sleep with her?"
If possible, the Englishman only stiffened more. "I don't know... I knew there must be a reason why she was in hell and not in bloody heaven, so..." he trailed off.
Wait, was Francis reading into it a bit too much, or... "Arthur," he said, disbelieve evident in his tone. "Were you worried about me?"
"...You could put it that way," Arthur answered evasively, and Francis knew that was as much as he was going to get out of him for some time now - if there even was anything more. But the Frenchman was strangely positive that there just might.
"Thank you," he said slightly jokingly to make it all feel less serious and thus more safe. "That was sweet."
"Do shut up," Arthur said, and with that, everything was more or less back to normal between the two nations.
For the time being.
xXx
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