Forever, Your Admirer~

Chapter 3 ( New Chapter )

( Updated 12/17/21 ) 

          Britain watched France carefully from the other side of the table. Despite the endless rows of fruit, pastries, and flowers, she sat still refusing to grab anything. For a little while, he believed that she might not have been hungry, but the stubborn and annoying face said otherwise. A servant, presumably someone close to her sat close providing a friend to speak to. Everything that belonged to her, belonged to that one servent. He hadn't much information on her, but it wasn't hard to tell that she was strong and could make up her own mind. But on the other hand, when her stubbornness wasn't showing, she constantly looked lonely and bored. It was something Britain could strangely relate to. She had been stuck in the palace for a good week or so, and he was starting to notice some different tendencies and things about her. 

 France herself was strange, unlike any royal Britain had ever met. She was extremely strong-willed, and would clearly speak her mind if it was needed. The first few days she made it more than clear she was in control of her own actions, and not a display for people to use. Despite her attitude especially towards her father, the princess was unusually quiet and reserved. She didn't need nor want much, a book and a friend were good enough for her. In general, France tried to stay as far away from Britain as she could, but the prince didn't blame her. It was awkward living with the person you were meant to marry. He didn't have the guts to say it, but she was generally a good pick out of all the snobby and rude princesses of the world. She was gentle and sweet around the ones she loved, and he couldn't deny she was pretty as well. Her brown hair was silky and waved just below her shoulder, and her eyes were a mellow lavender that reminded him of the Wisteria trees he used to climb. Her body was petite, with small curves that were probably meant to be hidden by the tight dresses she wore.

France was a lot smaller than him, but that didn't bother him one bit. It wasn't like he had a choice either way, but Britain believed he could live with France. Even if was just for the better of both kingdoms. 

 Ever since the female's arrival, the Brit had invested his time into trying to look like a royal, even if he hated it. France could absolutely care less but her father looked impressed with how in order and devoted he was.  His own father had actually given the poor prince a break, giving him a compliment once in a blue moon. Despite the chaos, Britain was nowhere near ready to rule any kingdom, or even be known as a king. But he was willing to put the best effort forward even if it was only for France. Over the week he had also been noticing his brothers trying to gain the attention of the female. They were constantly trying to flirt with her and show her what a sweet and pretty girl she was. It urked Britain slightly, but France had handled it well for the most part. There was no reason to intervene, she could handle herself. 

" Whit ye lookin' at Romeo? " Scotland barged into Britians thoughts, throwing an apple at the prince's head. Britain rubbed his head with a wince before turning to the side of the table where his siblings sat. The Brit straightened, crossing his arms with a glare. Ireland stuck his head out in front of the table, snickering slightly at the youngest child's face.

" I'm not looking at anyone " 

" You sure you're not looking at France~?"

" I'm sure I'm not "

" 'en yoo're lookin' at irelain? Ah ken he's quite th' attractife cuddie. "

" Will you two just shut up for three minutes please " Britain threw his hands in the air? Now that Britain was eighteen he could be grown up and mature, but his siblings still acted like four-year-olds trapped in adult bodies. The Brit had gotten used to their behavior, but it was, to say the least, embarrassing around another world power. 

" Och am sorry yer highness. Ah hink we micht be in need a strong beverage. Whit dae ye hink irelain?" Scotland poked Ireland's shoulder as the latter rose from his chair. Ireland started to say something but was cut off when his brother tugged him past the table, winking at France before exiting.