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The Scent of a Rose	By : larien04 Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 2855 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and I make no money off of this fic!

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
“Arthur, will you take my name?” the blue-eyed blonde asked his lover whom he had kept in bed all day, despite the man’s constant complaints for the need of food, a shower, and basic sunlight.

“I hadn’t really given the matter much thought” the Briton lied easily. In truth he had given a great deal of thought to the matter even before Francis had asked him to marry him.

“Non?” Francis asked feigning a hurt tone. He hadn’t missed the gleam in the Englishman’s eyes when he had asked the question.

Rolling over on his back Arthur shrugged “I don’t really see the point in the matter; ‘Arthur Bonnefoy’ just sounds ridiculous I do ,however, quite like the name ‘Francis Kirkland.’”

Francis’s face scrunched up in distaste “Non, it sounds ridiculous, besides mon cheri, I do believe it is customary for the woman to take the man’s name.”

“You’re really pushing it, frog…” Arthur warned, stretching and putting his hands behind his head.

“Is it really so terrible for me to want everyone to know who you belong to?” Francis asked, kissing his way down Arthur’s neck to his collarbone.

“I’m not your property, frog, and I don’t understand your current obsession with tradition.”

“Quoi?”

“You want the big wedding and the engagement party and the reception and now you want this. Why is it all so important to you?” The question may have come out a little more harshly than he had intended but he was genuinely curious as to what had sparked this necessity with traditions. Arthur had never put much stock in them himself; he didn’t believe that it would bring bad luck if the groom were to see his betrothed before the wedding and he certainly didn’t care for the ridiculous tradition of something borrowed and something blue. None of that mattered though because he had already decided long ago that he would take the man’s name; not all traditions were silly, after all.

Francis’ blue eyes meet Arthur’s curious green ones and he stopped for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Is it so hard to believe, Arthur, that I would want a fairytale wedding with you? Picture it; we could have Notre Dame herself decorated for our wedding. The church would be filled with roses of every color, and we could invite all the people we loved to share in our moment. The lights would be low, there would be candles everywhere and the setting sun would shine through the stained glass window as we said our vows. I would kiss you and the colors from the glass would reflect onto your face and make your beautiful green eyes stand out. We could have the reception underneath the Eiffel tower; Arthur, we could share our first dance underneath it…” he needed no more words for the picturesque scene had painted itself vividly into both of their minds.

“….Don’t you think we deserve it after everything we’ve gone through?” he whispered at length when it was obvious he had rendered Arthur speechless.

“Do you really want all that with me?” Arthur finally whispered back, afraid that if he spoke too loudly the beautiful image of a moonlit dance under the Eiffel Tower would fade.

“Oui. Don’t you?”

“Don’t you think it would be wrong to have all that? Don’t you think it would be wrong of me to be in a beautiful cathedral that was decorated with candles and roses when there are people here in England who still don’t have homes?”

Francis suddenly understood where Arthur’s guilt complex had been coming from this entire time. He had thought that the man just had unusually low self-esteem lately but it seemed that this war had taken its toll on the Briton. Was this the battle fatigue* that he had heard so many soldiers always fall victim to?

He was, of course, concerned about Arthur’s mental state but he was also relived to discover that Arthurs disinterest didn’t stem from loving him any less and just knowing that took a weight off of Francis’ chest. Arthur wasn’t trying to avoid a public ceremony because he was ashamed of their love; it was because he felt guilty about being too happy.

“Arthur, mon cheri, you work so hard every single day of the week to help as many people as you can, but you can’t help everyone; you should know that by now.”

Francis’ wise words suddenly made Arthur feel like he was a very young country once again and looking up to the frog for advice. He didn’t know how he could explain what he was feeling without sounding like a complete idiot but he felt like he needed to give some sort of explanation. “I tried so hard and I did everything I could…but if you were to look at my country you’d be hard pressed to say that we came out the victors in this war. Tell me, how am I supposed to simply run off and be happy with you when nobody in my country is happy? That’s why it has to be quiet; I don’t want everyone thinking less of me than they already do, do you understand?”

“Is that really how you see things? Arthur you need to open your eyes, mon cher, you are simply letting a few angry people over shadow all the good you’ve done and did. Do you know how many people think of you as a hero for saving the cathedral? Arthur, you’re respected and admired here and you’re an idiot if you don’t see it.”

Breaking eye contact and refusing to believe Francis’ words, Arthur looked away “I’m sorry, Francis. I don’t know what suddenly came over me. I’m not usually so…emotional.”

Francis knew that the fact that Arthur had confessed any of his innermost feelings to him spoke volumes to how much he loved him. Arthur was never so forthcoming with his feelings; even at night when they would talk he would have to pull Arthurs feelings out of him. “Don’t ever apologize for telling me how you feel, Arthur. I always want to know what you’re thinking in that beautiful head of yours, you can always tell me how you feel and I will always listen.”

Still not meeting his love’s gaze and trying to ignore the overtly sentimental things Francis was spouting Arthur had to, grudgingly, admit the man was right; they were going to be wed and he should be making more of an effort to be less guarded with the man. “Francis, do you think…..do you think I’m right for you?”

“Quoi?! Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?” Francis asked, confused by the man’s sudden question.

“No, that’s not exactly what I meant. Do you think we’re compatible?”

Francis stared at the man incredulously “Arthur, are you having second thoughts?”

“No.” the Briton answered immediately “No. That’s not it at all. Blast, I can’t get out what I want to say. It’s just that I…I have never been in such a… serious relationship before…I thought I was once…but, no, never mind that, it’s just that I don’t always know all the right words to say and well, I’m not exactly an expert at trying to convey how I feel, I’m stubborn and—“

Francis cut him off with a kiss, cupping Arthurs face tenderly but with just enough force so that the man had to look him in the eye. “Arthur, mon amour, are you under the impression that I didn’t already know all of this about you? I thought that you already knew that I loved you because of, and sometimes in spite of those things. I have seen every side of you, Arthur, I know you better than you know yourself. Just like right now I know that the reason you’re starting to sweat is because of how nervous you are to say the things that you think to yourself out loud to me at last. Cheri, I am not perfect, I don’t always know the best things to say, the only thing that makes us different is that I speak the words directly from my heart with little thought to if it is the best choice or not. I speak from my heart because I care for you, just because you aren’t the same doesn’t mean we aren’t compatible, now stop all you’re worrying and let me make you feel better. I can’t even remember what the original question was anymore.”

Allowing the man to wrest his hands from behind his head and pull him on his side so that they were face to face Arthur sighed in relief, maybe he did worry too much. “I believe your original question was if I was going to take your name and I think I will—“Francis attempted to cut him off with a kiss but he put his finger to the man’s lips “One second you silly romantic; I wasn’t quite finished.” Francis pouted and Arthur rolled his eyes when the man kissed his finger. “I will take your name but I will still need to retain my surname for legal purposes. There will be military orders and other official documents that will need to bear the name Arthur Kirkland.”

“But” Francis interrupted “when I make reservations for a night on the town then I will be able to tell them to reserve a table for two under the name ‘Bonnefoy’, oui?”

Blushing madly at the thought of showing up to meet Francis somewhere and giving the waiter Francis’ name for the reservation Arthur attempted to avert his eyes, as if that would somehow not allow the man lying directly opposite him to see his blush. Francis had other plans though and Arthur found himself suddenly beneath the Frenchman for the third time that day.

“Oh no. Absolutely not.” Arthur admonished pushing the man off him “We’ve been in this bed all day, I’m going to get a shower, by myself” Arthur emphasized when Francis started to follow him towards the shower “and then we are going to get some fresh air.”

Francis’ smirk fell “But what am I supposed to do with la tour Eiffel?” he asked gesturing to his erection.

“Use your hand” Arthur called, shutting the bathroom door and turning on the shower.

When the pair had finally gotten dressed they left the house hand in hand for a short night time stroll along Westminster Bridge to satisfy Arthurs need for some fresh air.

“What got into you today keeping me trapped in the bedroom all day long like a schoolgirl? You usually enjoy spending time outside.” Arthur asked, making conversation.

“You know that I’ll be leaving tomorrow night for Paris; I wanted to spend as much uninterrupted time with you as I could today.” Francis explained, releasing Arthurs hand in favor of putting an arm around his waist.

Arthurs face paled at the thought of the nightmares that he knew would come if he didn’t have the idiot next to him at night and he started to mentally panic. “Are you sure you want to keep with that tradition? Don’t you think it’s a little outdated? It was originally only customary for couples in an arranged marriage to not see one another before the wedding because it was held that if the groom saw the bride before the wedding and saw that she was unattractive, the groom could back out and cancel the wedding.”

Francis laughed at Arthur’s ridiculous logic “Arthur is that what this is all about? Is mon beau Angleterre worried that I will leave him at the altar?”

Arthur smirked his trademark arrogant smirk; a time tested defensive mechanism “You wouldn’t dare abandon me in the backyard of your own home in your own country although I suppose you are used to retreat.”

Francis dismissed Arthur’s jibe with a flourish of his hand and returned the proverbial attack with a parry of his own “I might if you were, as you say, ‘unattractive’.”

Stopping in the center of Westminster Bridge the couple paused a moment to look across the River Thames in silence.

“…and do you think I’m unattractive?” the Briton asked in a whisper.

Francis leaned back casually against the railing of the bridge and wrapped an arm around his love pulling him so that their lips were inches apart and stared directly into jade orbs “Non, Arthur, you aretrès attrayant.”

The British Nation closed the practically nonexistent gap and pressed his lips lightly against Francis’ in a tender kiss and his gaze went towards the ruins that still littered the street in some places “We’ll get through this depression wont we?”

Francis wisely knew that Arthur’s words had a double meaning and what he was really asking was if he was going to get through his depression. Ghosting his fingertips across the man’s cheek and knowing that, just like magic, his touch would bring a blush to the man’s face he smiled lovingly. “We’ll get through this just like we’ve gotten through everything else since the beginning of time; together.”

A/N: So, it turns out I lied; I really wanted Ch.20 to be the wedding chapter but this is what came out instead. So Ch.21 will be the wedding. Sorry!

*Battle Fatigue is the term that was used in World War 2 to describe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD. If you look very closely throughout my story you will see that Arthur meets all the “official” requirements as listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM). Did anybody pick up on this or was I too subtle? I’d like to know for future reference.

Translations:

mon beau Angleterre-my beautiful England

très attrayant-very attractive
- 19
- 20
- 21
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The Scent of a Rose