La Bataille de Nos Cœurs (Fruk)

17

June 18, 1815, Waterloo, Belgium

11:00 am, twenty minutes before the first shot.

~

I can't do this; I can't do this, I can't do this; I can't do this, I can't do this; I can't do this, I can't do this; I can't do this, I can't do this; I can't do this, I can't do this; I can't do this, I can't do this; I can't do this.

I was pacing around my tent as I saw the allies. I knew they were in the forest but did not say anything to anyone. I was sabotaging myself. Maybe they will kill me quickly? Maybe I won't notice that I'm dead.

God, now I don't know if I should repent for my sins. The sins for murder against the innocent, and Holy Rome, and the sins for my indecent feelings toward England. What happens to us when we die? I wonder if there is a special place in hell for people like us. I deserve to go to that particular place.

Those damned Allies were going to attack any second, and I wasn't sure what I should do first. Napoleon has instructed soldiers, but if they go through with it, I will see the death of my people yet again.

No! I needed to lessen the blow. For me, at least!

But to do that...

"God, I hate myself," I spoke. I stopped pacing and looked around me. I began to gather myself, shaking my head, annoyed. "I need to find Mr.England..." I whispered. I had not seen or talked to him since that night. He will be angry at me.

For letting the war continue for this long. I could tell the future...it wasn't pretty.

I left my tent slowly, looking around. I saw him and some of his men a few yards into the nearby forest. I know for sure they were planning to attack us any minute. I needed to talk to him. I turned my back to the camp and started walking toward the forest, when suddenly...

"Mr. France! Commander Napoleon requests your presence," someone spoke. I breathed out, defeated, turning around. "Great, I will be there soon," I spoke. The soldier ran off, and I felt myself breathing out, annoyed. Maybe that is a sign that I should not see England. I was not sure what I would say to him anyway.

I began to walk toward Napoleon's tent, mentally preparing myself for something he was about to say. I could not think of anything else; I wanted England. I treated him terribly, and I always have.

England...I am sorry...

"Ah, I was eager for your presence...I wanted to discuss today's soon-to-be attack. I trust that you won't hold back. It seems that your other nation friends have been eager to see your downfall..."

"They aren't my friends..." I spoke. It was true.

"That is what I love to hear! I know they make you soft sometimes; it is wonderful knowing that you do not care for that relationship with them. I need you to stay focused today; if I were to be hurt, it would give them enough of a chance to take me down; I need you to swear that you will protect my life with your every move!" He demanded. He looked at me seriously, and all I could do was nod in agreement.

"I have trained you well. I knew by the look of that treaty a couple of years ago it would backfire," he spoke. He was eating his food, and I felt angry.

Trained? Like a dog?

Was I a dog to him?

"What? Do you mean?" I asked.

"Ah! that Treaty with England...I am the main reason why it ended..."

"What? England declared war on us..."

I looked at him, confused, and he smiled at me. What was he talking about? "Ah, yes, about that...I planned that!" he cheered. He stood up from his seat and began to walk toward me. "I could tell you were having second thoughts about everything, and I knew you would not fight him, but the tension was too good not to manipulate. Showing you dislike toward England, Spain overhearing how the treaty would not last long, causing him to bring it up at dinner, then the uncertainty of trusting me...it was all me manipulating everything, so you would go to England...go to him, and tell him you want him to declare war on us..."