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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
- 20
- 21
The following day Francis had woken up with a grin on his face that seemed to be impossible to wipe off. Arthur had asked him why he was ‘so bloody happy’ and Francis had responded with “Arthur, mon cheri, we’re getting married tomorrow morning, what is there to not be happy about? Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to make you mine?”

After that, even Arthur had seemed a little cheerier during the day; it was impossible to tell by his facial expression but the Briton found himself less annoyed by Francis’ advances and was finding it difficult to stay angry with him for any length of time. It wasn’t until evening when the pair was sitting on a bench at the London train station that Arthurs mood had started to sour as the day started to come to an end and the prospect of a night without Francis started to set in.

“I’ve decided that I want you to come with me” Francis spoke at length with some finality, as if this was an issue he had long been debating in his head.

“What? I thought you wanted to keep with tradition…” Arthur was completely bewildered by what Francis had said, he had silently worried and fretted all day, despite his outward show of happiness, over how he was going to bring the issue up and now it seemed he didn’t have to worry about it at all.

“Oui I did but you were right; it would be silly for you to not come back home with me so I thought we could compromise.”

Arthur was suddenly very apprehensive of the Frenchman, what was the man plotting? “…compromise? How do you plan on that? Are you going to take me home with you and lock me in a closet so that we can’t see each other until the wedding?”

Francis grinned in amusement “Non that wasn’t what I had planned but now that you mention it…the image of you tied up and helpless is very alluring….we may have to explore that some time.”

“We’re in public you pervert keep your voice down.” Arthur chastised the man, attempting, and succeeding, in suppressing a smile.

“You really should learn to laugh a little more, mon cheri, unless you want those frown lines on your face to become permanent” Francis teased not missing the familiar sight of a twitched muscle on Arthurs face, a clear struggle between the Arthur he loved and ‘The Rosbif’; Francis’ affectionate term for Arthurs no nonsense personality .

“Just get to the point, frog.”

“I thought we could sleep in separate rooms that way I can keep with my ‘ridiculous tradition,’ as you call it, and you get to come home with me. It is brilliant, non?”

Arthur had to give his lover some credit; the man really could accomplish anything when he wanted to. Maybe if Francis was only two doors down the hall then he wouldn’t have to worry about his nightmares. Hopefully, just knowing that Francis was merely a few steps away would quell the terror. “I suppose you are good for some things aren’t you, darling?”

Francis pulled Arthur closer to him so that he could wrap his arm around his loves shoulder affectionately “Maybe one night I’ll make you tell me just how many things there are that you think I’m good at.”

Arthur’s cheeks burned at the implication of such a night and he tried his best to ignore the fact that his pants had suddenly become a little too snug. “You’re making a scene, you idiot, with talk like that.”

Francis laughed and his eyes shifted to Arthurs pants “Non, I think you are the only one making a scene here.”

The Englishman let out a sigh of relief when the train whistle suddenly sounded signaling that the passengers could board the train, at least now they could have some sense of privacy if Francis insisted on continuing with talk like that.

Upon entering the train the British Nation shook his head and continued forward to find a compartment for them while Francis flirted with the blushing attendant accepting tickets.

“I suppose I’m going to have to put up with that the rest of our lives aren’t I?” Arthur asked when Francis took a seat next to him moments later.

Francis shrugged completely unrepentant “Non, only until tomorrow. I was only keeping my options open.”

Arthur rolled his eyes at the man’s antics “What? Just in case I decide you aren’t worth marrying and call off the wedding?”

“Non.” Francis responded grinning like a chesire cat “In case I decide you aren’t attractive enough and leave you at the altar.”

The British Nation glared at his fiancé “Keep it up…” he warned.

“Or what?” Francis ventured leaning over to experimentally press his lips to Arthurs.

“Or I’ll…do…something” Arthur attempted with absolutely no force behind it whatsoever before closing his eyes and returning the kiss.

                                                                                  ***********

“…I can’t believe you got us in trouble you bloody pervert.” Arthur fumed while he waited for Francis to unlock the front door to their house. He hadn’t spoken to the man the entire taxi ride to the house.

“Nobody got in trouble you old man and we weren’t doing anything wrong.” Francis countered with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“OLD MAN?! You’re older than me, frog and like hell we weren’t doing anything; my shirt was half undone when she opened the door to tell us we were about to arrive. Can you imagine what she must have been thinking with you in my lap like that and your hand halfway up my shirt?” the man’s face was bright red and it was clear he was mortified.

“My guess is she was wondering if we would invite her to join.” Francis stated with a smirk, stepping into the house.

Arthur’s eyes practically bulged out of his head “You really are a pervert aren’t you?”

The Frenchman grabbed Arthur around the waist and kissed his neck, whispering into his ear “Maybe, but I wasn’t the one moaning loud enough for anyone in earshot to get a show now was I? I wonder just how far you would have gone…”

Completely indignant Arthur could barely form a response “I wasn’t that loud was I…? And even if I was it’s your bloody fault you lecherous frog.”

Francis shook his head in utter amusement, grinning ear to ear “What would you have said if I had asked her to come play with us?”

Arthur rolled his eyes “You’re disgusting, frog , and there’s absolutely no way she would have said yes to begin with, she’s English after all; she has some sense of decency.”

Francis shook his head in disappointment “You really are a cranky old man Arthur, come on, cher, I’ll put you to bed.”

“I don’t need to be put to bed I’m not a child, you know.” The Briton protested verbally but did nothing to remove his hand from Francis’ as he was led upstairs.

“Then maybe you’re too old for a kiss goodnight too” Francis returned with a smile.

“Maybe I am.” Arthur stubbornly stated but the tightened grip on Francis’ hand said otherwise.

Stopping in the center of their shared bedroom Francis kissed his love lightly on the lips “The next time I see you we’ll be getting married…can you believe it?”

“No.” Arthur answered shaking his head “I still have no idea how you conned me into it.”

“Hmm maybe it’s the way that I kiss you?” Francis mused kissing Arthur once more.

“Or maybe it’s the way that you force yourself upon me at inappropriate moments” Arthur returned sarcastically.

Francis laughed a musical laugh that was infectious enough to put a smile on the grumpy Britons face. “Mhmm but I think you like it when I force myself on you.”

Thinking back to all the times Francis has ‘forced’ himself upon him Arthur closed his eyes silently willing his libido to calm down. It was deplorable that he could barely keep his libido in check it seemed like these days. “Get out you pervert and let me sleep.” he half chastised with a laugh divesting himself from the man’s arms.

“Bonsoir, Arthur” Francis said tenderly, stealing one final kiss from his lover before exiting the room for the evening. “I love you.”

Arthur sighed in contentment starting to undo his tie “And I love you.”

When the lights had been turned out Arthur took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. The bed that was just the perfect size for the couple now seemed overly large and cold without his companion to occupy it. Letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, Arthur stared at the ceiling stewing on how ridiculous he felt for being afraid to sleep alone. He was a nation after all; not some silly child worried over a monster under the bed. Sighing, he closed his eyes hoping he would be able to get through this one last night of sleeping by himself in one piece.

The bed might have been lonely but it was comfortable and it didn’t take long before Arthur found himself asleep. It also wasn’t long before his dreams were invaded by fire and the sounds of soldiers shouting.

“Sir! You need to move to the safety of a shelter, the air bombers are out there in force. If any of them see you on top of this roof…”

“I already know that you prat! If you don’t have any other useful advice then get out of my sight” Arthur’s dream self chastised the soldier.

Arthur wasn’t an idiot; he knew that any moment he could be blown to smithereens but what use was he on the ground? He had an aerial view from atop the roof and that view is what was keeping the English alive right now, he would deal with a little risk for the safety of his people.

As he surveyed the battlefield that he called home his mind wondered from the thought of the battle raging on in front of his eyes to thoughts of a navy blue jacket and blonde hair and he wondered if Francis had made it out, alright. He cursed Germany silently for ruining his newly blossomed romance with the man; they had only just admitted their feelings for each other a little over a year ago, or rather he had admitted his feelings, and he had been surprised how quickly their relationship blossomed within such a short time, though, he supposed that it wasn’t that shocking, he had known Francis his entire life and now his only regret was that it took him so long to realize he loved the man.

Cringing as another bomb struck his city he gave the order for the soldiers to go to the spot of destruction and do what they could. He hated the sound of bombs; he especially hated the sound of silence right before the deafening explosion. Sometimes, he thought, the silence before the explosion seemed louder than the actual explosion itself.

Forcing himself to focus at the task on hand he knew he needed a strategy and he wanted it to be a quick one; the quicker he ended this war the quicker he could go back to his happy life and his beautiful home in Paris.

Ducking reflexively as another bomb hit a little too close for comfort he silently said a prayer to the heavens that Francis made it out alive. ‘Please’ he thought ‘I don’t care what happens to me; just let him make it home in one piece. Please, if you’re up there…I love him so much…--‘

He was suddenly broken out of his thoughts by the sound of his name being called from a distance. “-----irkland!” he could barely make out the words they sounded so far away. Shaking his head from all thoughts of his French lover he looked around and noticed he was utterly alone on the top of the building. ‘Where the bloody he—‘his thoughts were cut short as the shadow of one of the Luftwaffeloomed directly overhead. “Fuck” he swore before the bomb descended on the building.

Arthur jolted awake into a sitting position in the bed, eyes flying open in terror and body drenched in sweat. “Fuck!” he swore before letting his nerves get the best of him and letting the tears fall freely.

                                                                    *****Meanwhile*******

Francis turned over in his bed and sighed in frustration, he had been in and out of sleep all night. He resolved to get a more comfortable bed for the guest bedroom as soon as possible. Half-awake he groggily reached over to pull his lover closer and frowned when he all he got was a fistful of covers. ‘Maybe Arthur was right after all; this tradition is stupid.’

Sitting up in bed he rubbed his eyes not bothering to cover his yawn, if he didn’t get some sleep soon then he was going to have bags under his eyes for his wedding and that was completely unacceptable.

                                                                       ****************

Drying his eyes with the back of his hand Arthur sighed in frustration. Francis was just down the hallway, why was he so bloody dependent on the man? He was going to go to sleep and that’s all there was to it he resolved. The instant he shut his eyes though he saw the flames and he heard the bombs and he knew he was never going to get to sleep if he didn’t just suck it up and wake Francis up. He felt guilty as hell but he knew Francis would be pissed off, to put it mildly, if he looked like hell on their wedding day because he was too stubborn to wake him up.

Getting out of bed and walking down the hallway Arthur looked at the door to the guest bedroom with contempt. Should he knock? Knocking seemed too formal but barging in on the sleeping man seemed even less appropriate. Wait, why he was he worried about propriety all of the sudden; he was going to be married to the man in just a few short hours.

Standing up a little straighter and clearing his throat he knocked on the door “Francis? Are you sleeping?” ‘What a stupid question’ he thought to himself ‘Of course he’s sleeping.’

“Arthur?” Francis asked, shocked that he wasn’t the only one awake. “What is it, cher?” he questioned, getting out of bed and opening the door.

“…I couldn’t sleep…”

Francis’ eyes widened in realization and he wrapped an arm around Arthur’s waist, pulling him into the bedroom. “Was it that dream again, cheri?”

Feeling a little bit like a scared little girl Arthur nodded and allowed himself to be pulled into the bed. “What are you doing awake? Shouldn’t you be sound asleep by now?”

“Oui. I suppose I just couldn’t sleep without you; I kept waking up and trying to pull you closer and you weren’t there” the lighter blonde responded, kissing the back of his loves neck tenderly. Moving from his usual position behind the Englishman so that he could kiss the man’s chest Francis was shocked to see Arthurs tear stained eyes. “Arthur, were you crying? You idiot, you should have come to me sooner.”

Arthur averted his eyes “I was trying to give you your tradition you idiot. You gave up so many things you wanted for this wedding to make me happy; I just wanted to give you this one thing in return and I couldn’t even do that. Are you… angry with me?”

Francis shook his head in disbelief “I gave up those things because I love you, how could I ever be angry with you for needing me?”

Arthur couldn’t understand how anyone could love someone else so unconditionally and the more loving caresses Francis gave him only increased his guilt complex until the point where he couldn’t take it anymore. “Why do you love me so damn much?! How can you love someone who can’t even stay in their own bed at night? I’m a bloody nation; I should be able to handle a few bad dreams, shouldn’t I? Look at you, your dreams aren’t filled with terror and look how much you’ve gone through.”

Suddenly the image of a beautiful blonde girl that had stern blue eyes being consumed by flames while he stood helpless to watch entered Francis’ mind and his heart constricted painfully. It had been a very very long time since he had woken up screaming her name but he still remembered those sleepless nights clear as day and he still remembered the sadistic smirk on Arthurs face and the reflection of her burning body in his green eyes

Shaking the image out of his mind and choking back the tears that threatened to flow from the emotions that the painful memory brought, Francis bit his tongue and focused his attention on soothing the beautiful man beneath him. “Arthur, mon amour, close your eyes and I promise I’ll keep the nightmares away. Tomorrow when you wake up it will be our wedding day, think on that while you sleep.”

Arthur didn’t know it at the time, but that night would be the last night he would ever have another nightmare.

                                                                  ************

“Réveiller you lazy person, some of us have already been up and started breakfast. How can you possibly still be sleeping at 9am?” Francis impatiently poked his bride to be in the rib cage.

“…How can you possibly be awake at 9am?” Arthur groggily countered.

“One of us should be excited for tonight don’t you think?”

Arthur grumbled something incoherent into the pillow and muttered “Go away, I’m trying to get my beauty sleep.”

Francis grinned, pulling the covers off Arthur who wasn’t quick enough to grab hold of them “Well, cheri, you will never be as beautiful as me so you should get out of bed and face the facts.”

One green eye opened and greeted Francis with a glare “I thought you said I was beautiful, frog.”

“I knew that would get you to open your eyes, now up” the over eager Frenchman stated, pulling Arthur into a standing position and wrapping his arms around him.

“…G’morning to you too, Frog.” Arthur mumbled returning the embrace.

“Is that any way to talk to your husband on his wedding day?”

“Are you implying in some way that I’m the wife….?” Arthur asked in a half threatening tone.

“Non, of course not” Francis lied completely “Now, let’s get a shower and go downstairs for breakfast. I even have a pot of that ridiculous stuff you call tea brewing.”

“Are you sure showering with me on our wedding day isn’t against some ridiculous tradition?” Arthur asked while stripping down and heading to the bathroom to start the shower.

Stepping into the shower behind Arthur Francis kissed the younger nation on his neck “I think it’s time we started to make our own traditions, what do you think?”

Arthur smiled a genuine smile and turned around to kiss his love on the lips “I think that’s the best idea you have ever had, darling.”

                                                                      ************

Arthur had promised Francis that he would let the man have creative control over the rose garden they were to be wed in and Francis had promised him in return that he would not be disappointed. And as Arthur stood just outside the door to the garden at precisely 6pm his breath was taken away by the site.

Their garden was large, outlandishly so for the size of house they had but that was what they both agreed on when they had bought the house together.

Their garden was split up into three parts respectively, the left side of the garden which was designated as Francis’ half of the garden had a single large topiary that was shaped into a fleur de lis and surrounded by various flowers. The right side of the garden, which was designated as Arthur’s side, had various rose bushes that made up the symbol of the tudor rose. The middle of the garden was lined with rose arches and had a paved walkway that led directly to a beautiful rustic fountain in the very center.

The night time lights in the garden were turned off and the only light there was came from the dozens of little candles that lit the walkway to the very center of the garden and the full moon in the sky.

There was no music for Arthur to walk down the aisle to but as he strode towards his one true love, he decided that he preferred the soft summer breeze and the natural sound of insects chirping than any organ music they could have selected.

“So you decided on white after all?” Francis said in a low reverent tone when Arthur had reached him.

Arthur only smiled in response, being unable to take his gaze away from the beautiful azure eyes that said so much right then.

The man they had invited to officiate their private ceremony was a personal friend of Francis’ who just so happened to be a priest. Arthur had initially protested saying that he didn’t want a religious ceremony but Francis had insisted on this point and Arthur had eventually caved.

The priest looked kindly on the two men who were obviously very much in love and spoke softly “I understand that both of you have written your own wedding vows that you want to share with one another. Francis, would you like to share first?”

Francis nodded and cleared his throat before he began “Arthur, I wasn’t sure what I should say to you in my vow, we have both been through so much together that it was hard for me to tell you that I will always be there for you no matter what because it seems like the ‘no matter what’ has already come and passed. The only thing that I could think of to tell you was the one thing that you already know; that I love you and that now that I have you I promise to never let you go and keep you by my side for eternity. I promise that I will always be there for you; when you are at your weakest and when you are at your strongest. I promise that I will never stop making you blush and I promise that even when you don’t want me to I will hold you in my arms and comfort you, but most of all I promise to be yours in every way.” Ignoring the tears that threatened to escape any moment from his own eyes, Francis reached up one wiped the tears that managed to escape from Arthurs eyes away tenderly.

The smiling priest nodded in Arthurs direction, encouraging him to start when he was ready.

Standing up a little straighter and making sure to keep his eyes locked on Francis’ Arthur spoke the vows he had written in a perfect and clear tone: “Francis, quand je me suis assis pour écrire mes vœux, j'étais certain que les motspour te dire comment tu me bouleverses et que je t'aimes allaient me venir naturellement, mais cela s'avéra plus compliqué qu'il n'y paraissait. Je cherchais les mots pour décrire combien tu es important à mes yeux, decrier comment je ne suis rien sans toi à mes côté, mais rien de ce qui me traversait la tête était à la hauteur de mes attentes. Je voulais écrire de superbes versets de poésie digne de Baudelaire*, mais en lisant toutes lesœuvres de l'auteur, j'ai réalisé que rien de ce qu'il a écrit ne pouvait parfaitement décrire le vide que j'ai ressentit quand j'ai oublié notre amour et encore moins ce que j'ai ressentit quand je me suis à nouveau souvenu de tout. C'est là que j'ai réalisé que je n'avais pas besoin des mots d'un poète célèbre; j'avais seulement besoin de me tourner vers mon cœur pour y dénicher les mots que je cherchais si désespérément et qui étaient aussi simple que "Je t'aime". Je jure de toujours resté à tes côtés, de t'aider à te relever lorsque tu va faire une chute, je jure d'être à tes côtés tout les matins quand nous allons nous réveiller, je jure de ne jamais m'endormir fâché contre toi, mais par dessus-tout je jure de t'aimer tout les jours jusqu'à la fin de ma vie et à continuer de t'aimer dans l'au-delà.”

Francis’ eyes spoke all the words that he was currently incapable of; they spoke of love, they spoke of confusion, they spoke of awe, and a small hint of pride was hidden somewhere in the blue orbs. He didn’t actually think it was possible that anyone anywhere could love anyone as much as he loved Arthur right now the force of that love was almost making him incapable of standing.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur for both of them; they spoke the words spoken millions of times in the past. Then came the time to exchange their wedding bands; silver for Arthur and gold for Francis, and when it came time to kiss the proverbial bride, their lips locked in a tender and passionate kiss that seemed to be such a private moment that the priest respectfully turned away with a smile.

After they had bade goodbye to the priest Francis had sat on the bench next to the water fountain and pulled Arthur into his lap. “I thought you didn’t speak ‘frog’” he smiled, kissing the man tenderly.

“I lied” came the Britons reply before he stood up, pulling Francis with him.

“Where are we going?” Francis asked “Don’t you want to stay outside for a while longer? It’s a beautiful night.”

Arthur shook his head, leading Francis to the house “I have a better idea.”

The both stopped when they reached the door to that lead into the house and Arthur blushed, looking down “Don’t you dare try to carry me through that doorway or I will break your arm.”

Francis smirked as Arthur set his shoulders in a manly fashion and attempted to walk the extra step to open the door. Once the door was open, Francis took his window of opportunity and in one swift fluid motion he stuck out his foot successfully tripping the prideful Brit and catching him in his arms. “Looks like I’ll have to carry you” he grinned carrying the man through the doorway and setting him down on the other side.

“You’re a bastard, you know that?” Arthur grumbled, brushing off his white tuxedo and attempting to hide his blush, but failing miserably, as always.

Running his hand up the side of Arthurs face gently, Francis kissed the man once more “I can’t seem to get enough of you tonight. Now, tell me, s’il vous plaît what is your ‘better idea?’

Arthur smiled “Grab your car keys, I want that dance.”**



                                                                               ~Fin~

A/N: Happy fruking 107^th Anniversary of the Entente cordiale! The perfect day to post this chapter, non?

*Charles Baudelaire was a very famous French poet; essentially he was the French Shakespeare.

** In case anybody forgot, Arthur is referencing the moonlit dance under the Eiffel Tower that Francis mentioned in Ch.20

If anyone cares, I went back and added a link to all the chapters so people could read the story more fluidly. I also fixed the weird formatting on Ch. 4.

No that’s not a mistake, people, Arthur spoke French wedding vows. <3

My take on Arthur is that he’s fluent in French and he just pretends to not understand any of it to annoy Francis and because he loves his English. To me, it makes perfect sense because Francis and Arthur spent a lot of time together in his childhood so why wouldn’t Arthur have picked up on it? On a more historically accurate note, French was the official language of the English court during the 11^th/12^th centuries.

Here is a link if anybody is interested in reading more about French as the official language of the court http://homes.chass.utoronto.ca/~cpercy/courses/6361Heys.htm

Additionally, this is the image that I was basically trying to convey for the rose garden scene

Left side of garden: http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR8iFxIMoqQduU0yKTMEg-CVEUkLb1KquoqbOqTNyP0OVu3f0J2

Center of garden: http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/main/w-039433-nymansgarden-rose_arch-gallery_picture

Right side of garden: http://www.bbc.co.uk/hamptoncourt/images/446x251/tudor_rose.jpg

Since this is the official end of my story I want to take the opportunity to thank a couple people:

Mirianna16 from Fanfiction.net: Who so graciously took time out of her day to translate the wedding vow for me and correct some of my fail French in previous chapters. Thank you SO much!

aLx-nichoLe from Deviant Art: Who constantly helped inspire me with ideas and even RP’d with me so I could get into the characters heads a little better. She also gave me the amazing idea if England crawling into bed with Francis this chapter, so thank you! Also, thank you for listening to me bitch when I had writers block and encouraging me to keep writing.

8Kairi8 from Deviant Art: Who is my little sister and has been a great source of inspiration to me and a great sounding board for ideas!

Also, thank you to everyone who has faved/watched/added me to story alert/rated me 4 stars on D.A., FF.net, and AFF.net. Doubly thank you to all those who consistently commented on my chapters with encouraging words.

Translations:

Réveiller: “Wake up”

Arthur’s Wedding Vow: “Francis, when I sat down to write these vows I was certain that it would be simple to say how I felt about you and to tell you how much I love you, well, it turned out that it wasn’t so easy. I was looking for the words to describe how much you mean to me and to describe how utterly useless I am without you by my side but nothing I thought of seemed to fit. I wanted to write some spectacular verse that was worthy of one of Baudelaire’s sonnets, but through all my readings of his sonnets not one of them described how I lost I felt when I couldn’t remember our love and not one of them described how utterly complete I felt when I finally remembered. That was when I realized that I didn’t need the words of some great bard;I only needed to turn toward my heart to find the words I was looking for so desperately and that they were as simple as ‘I love you.’ I promise to always stay by your side and help you back up again when you fall, I promise to be there every morning when we wake and I promise to never go to sleep angry with you, but more than that, I promise to love you every day of my life and beyond.”
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The Scent of a Rose