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"I fight for you, and yet, I know not of your name. Pray tell, will I ever be given the chance to have the honor of learning what it would happen to be?"
Joan smiled softly, her shoulders hunching slightly as she eyed the taller blond that stood before her. Cerulean upon cerulean locked for a long moment, her softer shade contrasting greatly with the surprised, nearly wide-eyed look the ageless male shot towards her. "I take it that I'm still not worthy of such...?"
When his eyes flickered from her's, the blooming pangs of regret began to ebb at her stomach. Perhaps it was too much to ask for… after all, she was nothing more than a lowly servant working under this man. This man, whom God had asked her to fight for, to serve without question, and to protect to her very last breath…
The last thing she wanted was to upset him. Surely, doing so would displease her Lord.
"You already know of my name," he answered, unable to meet her gaze again. "France. Once bestowed, forever it shall remain." She couldn't help but frown at how sad the glimmer within his eyes looked, how miserable that downward curl of his lips made him appear to be. He looked much better when he smiled; seeing him look so depressed didn't settle at all with her.
"Is that not a tad… improper? Not that I mean any offense, but for you and I to walk together, and for me to refer to you by that name… won't it appear… strange?" She noticed how his jaw clenched the slightest bit at her statement. With a small furrow upon his brow, he brought his arm up, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared side-long towards the setting horizon. When he didn't speak immediately, Joan turned to peer at the fading sunset as well, watching the dulling hues of blue fade to vibrant oranges and reds. As they both watched the sun slowly creep downward beyond the horizon, she noticed that a silence settled between the two. Uncomfortable with it, she decided to comment about the sunset, lips parted to speak, when the Frenchman's voice broke the silence instead.
"It's the only name I've ever gotten…" he said softly, his eyes moving downward to look towards his shoes. His eyes reflected something close to pity now. Sheepish, shameful… she thought that she could also see the smallest bit of longing as well. "Things like me… countries… we're only just that. Countries. Not humans, not people -"
"Why's that?" He blinked, his eyes moving upward to gaze at the petite woman before him. She eyed him carefully, the corners of her lips curling upward in a small, reassuring smile as their eyes met. "What's the difference between you and I? Have you not legs to walk with? Arms to reach out and touch with? Eyes to see, lips to smile?" His look turned thoughtful. She paused for a moment and very hesitantly, reached out to hold his hands in her's. They were much larger, and, thanks to the battles she'd already fought, were much cleaner and well-kept than her own. She felt him go rigid under her touch, but still, she kept her hands over his.
"You've hands to hold… dreams to reach for… and most importantly of all…" She made sure to pause again, moving one of her hands away from his to place gently upon his chest. He stayed perfectly still, staring down at her almost incredulously. Joan could only smile softly when she felt his heartbeat beneath her touch. "… you've a heart to love with."
He didn't say anything more. She could only stare as the Frenchman slowly lowered his chin, his jaw clenching tightly together. Only moments later, she noticed the smallest trickle of tears begin to stream down his cheeks. It caught her off-guard at first, but once she put into consideration just what it meant to be an actual nation, she felt she could understand why he'd feel so emotional about being told this sort of thing. To be burdened so heavily, the responsibility of the lives and well-being of countless people hanging over like an aura that just wouldn't disappear…
"At the very least, please let me give you one more thing to prove that you're more of a person than you think yourself to be." He didn't raise his head, which again, was understandable. A man's pride went so far, after all.
She moved her hand away from his chest, moving it upwards until it gently cupped his cheek. She waited for him to blink his eyes open, and smiled brightly once he did so. "From this day forth, answer not only as France, but as Francis as well. As a person, not a nation alone." He could only stare at her, speechless. She used her thumb to gently wipe the tears that welled within his eyes, her eyes closing as her smile continued to grow. "Francis. Francis Bonnefoy. That's what you'll answer to henceforth."
"Why that name in particular...?" She raised her brows, staring up at him just as he opened his eyes to peer down at her. She thought for a moment, before she shrugged softly.
"It just came to me," she said, her smile softening, "much similarly to how God had suddenly come to bring me to you on that day."
Joan smiled softly, her shoulders hunching slightly as she eyed the taller blond that stood before her. Cerulean upon cerulean locked for a long moment, her softer shade contrasting greatly with the surprised, nearly wide-eyed look the ageless male shot towards her. "I take it that I'm still not worthy of such...?"
When his eyes flickered from her's, the blooming pangs of regret began to ebb at her stomach. Perhaps it was too much to ask for… after all, she was nothing more than a lowly servant working under this man. This man, whom God had asked her to fight for, to serve without question, and to protect to her very last breath…
The last thing she wanted was to upset him. Surely, doing so would displease her Lord.
"You already know of my name," he answered, unable to meet her gaze again. "France. Once bestowed, forever it shall remain." She couldn't help but frown at how sad the glimmer within his eyes looked, how miserable that downward curl of his lips made him appear to be. He looked much better when he smiled; seeing him look so depressed didn't settle at all with her.
"Is that not a tad… improper? Not that I mean any offense, but for you and I to walk together, and for me to refer to you by that name… won't it appear… strange?" She noticed how his jaw clenched the slightest bit at her statement. With a small furrow upon his brow, he brought his arm up, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared side-long towards the setting horizon. When he didn't speak immediately, Joan turned to peer at the fading sunset as well, watching the dulling hues of blue fade to vibrant oranges and reds. As they both watched the sun slowly creep downward beyond the horizon, she noticed that a silence settled between the two. Uncomfortable with it, she decided to comment about the sunset, lips parted to speak, when the Frenchman's voice broke the silence instead.
"It's the only name I've ever gotten…" he said softly, his eyes moving downward to look towards his shoes. His eyes reflected something close to pity now. Sheepish, shameful… she thought that she could also see the smallest bit of longing as well. "Things like me… countries… we're only just that. Countries. Not humans, not people -"
"Why's that?" He blinked, his eyes moving upward to gaze at the petite woman before him. She eyed him carefully, the corners of her lips curling upward in a small, reassuring smile as their eyes met. "What's the difference between you and I? Have you not legs to walk with? Arms to reach out and touch with? Eyes to see, lips to smile?" His look turned thoughtful. She paused for a moment and very hesitantly, reached out to hold his hands in her's. They were much larger, and, thanks to the battles she'd already fought, were much cleaner and well-kept than her own. She felt him go rigid under her touch, but still, she kept her hands over his.
"You've hands to hold… dreams to reach for… and most importantly of all…" She made sure to pause again, moving one of her hands away from his to place gently upon his chest. He stayed perfectly still, staring down at her almost incredulously. Joan could only smile softly when she felt his heartbeat beneath her touch. "… you've a heart to love with."
He didn't say anything more. She could only stare as the Frenchman slowly lowered his chin, his jaw clenching tightly together. Only moments later, she noticed the smallest trickle of tears begin to stream down his cheeks. It caught her off-guard at first, but once she put into consideration just what it meant to be an actual nation, she felt she could understand why he'd feel so emotional about being told this sort of thing. To be burdened so heavily, the responsibility of the lives and well-being of countless people hanging over like an aura that just wouldn't disappear…
"At the very least, please let me give you one more thing to prove that you're more of a person than you think yourself to be." He didn't raise his head, which again, was understandable. A man's pride went so far, after all.
She moved her hand away from his chest, moving it upwards until it gently cupped his cheek. She waited for him to blink his eyes open, and smiled brightly once he did so. "From this day forth, answer not only as France, but as Francis as well. As a person, not a nation alone." He could only stare at her, speechless. She used her thumb to gently wipe the tears that welled within his eyes, her eyes closing as her smile continued to grow. "Francis. Francis Bonnefoy. That's what you'll answer to henceforth."
"Why that name in particular...?" She raised her brows, staring up at him just as he opened his eyes to peer down at her. She thought for a moment, before she shrugged softly.
"It just came to me," she said, her smile softening, "much similarly to how God had suddenly come to bring me to you on that day."
So I was asked by one of my followers on Tumblr to try my hand at making a France x Joan of Arc drabble. I absolutely adore this pairing, so I was all for it.
And this is what I got.
I hope my writing style's acceptable... I tried to make it all flow together somehow, but... yeah. OTL
Anyways, this is a headcannon that I've always had, that nations are given their human names by a human that's made a huge impact on their lives. Joan of Arc just happened to be the person that gave France's his own.
THE PICTURE IS NOT MINE! I just used it as a visual for my drabble, so... OTL
France and Joan of Arc belong to Hetalia.
Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.
And this is what I got.
I hope my writing style's acceptable... I tried to make it all flow together somehow, but... yeah. OTL
Anyways, this is a headcannon that I've always had, that nations are given their human names by a human that's made a huge impact on their lives. Joan of Arc just happened to be the person that gave France's his own.
THE PICTURE IS NOT MINE! I just used it as a visual for my drabble, so... OTL
France and Joan of Arc belong to Hetalia.
Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.
© 2011 - 2024 Imeria
Comments91
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I have already read that before and I wanted to find this story again because the story is just perfect! Joan of Arc is really awesome, I love the fact that she is the one who give France his human name.