England PoV:
Your men drag me to you. They throw me at your feet. I hear you laugh. I grit my teeth as your shoe on my neck forces my face into the dirt.
You did. After 100 years. You've won.
"I hope you learn something from this England." The ice in your voice seems to spear through me.
I feel like crying. Why are you doing this to me?
Oh right ... I know why.
"Yes, Francis. I did." I say as I hold back tears.
I feel the pressure on my neck disappear. Instead there are thin long fingers snaking around. You grab me by my hair and force your eyes into mine.
My bound hands unable to support my weight or reach for a weapon. You bring out your knife and slash through the ropes around my bleeding wrists.
I fall forward and you hold me tightly. Your touch on my neck softens and I let my tears roll. We stay that way till my eyes dry.
"Run England. Scurry back to where you came from, little rabbit. Come back when you think you can win and I'll prove you wrong again."
You push me away and get back on your feet. You smile at me, but the bitterness that you don't even try to hide resonates in the air between us, all warmth suddenly gone.
I take my shameful leave. Just you wait, you frog.
We're enemies.
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We're Enemies
FanfictionEngland and France have been two superpowers that have constantly been at each other's necks. But there is more to their feelings for each other than either will ever admit. Not even to themselves. Not even when they cry out the other's name when th...
