Hetalia Reader Inserts 2

Aging!Reader x France: Puis Qu'en Oubli

//Author's Note:
    I'd like to inform you all that this may not be historically accurate with dates and such. I did a little bit of research, but I still don't know 100% about the history of France.
    Also, "Puis Qu'en Oubli," translated as "Since I am Forgotten," is a song by Guillaume de Machaut, a French composer from the Renaissance period. I heard this song in music appreciation class and just watched part of the Davie episode of Hetalia, and immediately thought of France singing this song to a woman whom he loves wholeheartedly, but refuses to marry due to the heartbreak of him outliving her.
    Tread carefully, this may make you cry.
  End Author's Note//

    I met her in the spring of 1899. It was April 18th, and we were celebrating the victory of France in Niger. I wasn't allowed to go to that battle, and thus was stuck in France when I heard the news along with the rest of the people. We were all singing and dancing, when I saw her. The most beautiful woman in the world; next to Joan, and my little Seychelles.

    The woman was young, about 19, and had the most beautiful (hair color), (hair length) locks of hair I had ever seen. Her eyes sparkled like (eye color) diamonds as she laughed and grinned, dancing with anyone who asked. She wore a beautiful (complimentary eye color) dress that drew attention to her eyes.

    I couldn't help myself when I walked over and asked her to dance.

    "Of course," she had said. My breath had hitched in the back of my throat at the sound of her voice. She was merely speaking, and yet her voice was as musical as of she had sung the words. Her accent was devastatingly attractive, and her French was near perfect regardless of being a foreigner.

    Her movements were graceful and precise as we danced a waltz, not missing a single step. Well, until I complimented her that is. Then she blushed madly, turning redder than Spain's and South Italy's love apples. It was adorable, and as she was trying to recover she tripped over her heels.

    "Oh my," I said, my voice as smooth as silk. A sly, cocky smirk played onto my lips. "It looks like you just fell for me, no?"

    Her blush increased, and she began to stammer. I laughed softly, apologizing.

    "Oh no," she replied. "Don't apologize. That was clever, and... True."

    The rest of the evening went by too quickly. We danced all night, stopping only to rest when food, drink, or the restrooms were needed.

    After around midnight, I noticed the girl, whom I found the name of to be (Name), was quite tipsy and almost drunk. Unfortunately, she passed out the moment I got her into my car, and I could not get the whereabouts of her hotel.

    "Oh well," I had muttered. "Might as well take her to my home."

    She had apologized profusely in the morning, thanking me for my hospitality and for taking care of her.

    "It's no problem at all my love," I had replied. "I'd give my life to protect a beauty such as yourself."

    Fast forward twenty years. The year is now 1919, and my dear (Name) is 39. I haven't seen her in five of those twenty years. The last time we spoke was when I revealed why I didn't age along side her. She had been shocked and devastated, but said she didn't care.

    (Name) told me still wanted to marry me. I still told her no, saying she needed to find a man she could age with and have a family with. Me being a country, I might not even be able to bear children.

    In the autumn of 1919, I saw her again. She was wearing an engagment ring on her left ring finger, and I smiled sadly as I watched her dine outside in a famous Paris restaurant.