Amor Vincit Omnia

Summary: It's the sight of her dainty hand casually resting atop the Spanish Empire's elbow that makes his blood boil.

Characters:
England - Arthur Kirkland
Belgium - Marie 'Belle' Verlinden
Spain - Antonio Fernandez Carriedo
France - Francis Bonnefoy
Austria - Roderich Edelstein

Pairing: England/Belgium and some Spain/Belgium

Chapter: 1/?

Author's Note: This story shows a different writing style then what you are probably used of me. It's less eloquent and lengthy, and more to the point. I wanted to try something among the lines of G.R.R. Martin's writing: short but strong sentences. I'm afraid I fell back into my usual routine a few times here, but for the most part I think I succeeded somewhat. In other words, if you like this fic and you like the style, be sure to leave a review. I need some feedback here. And if you bothered to read this a/n: enjoy!

Chapter 1

England had never been one for official events.

He had grown used to them under the days of Rome, but given the choice he would have rather been elsewhere then surrounded by flocks of ridiculously dressed nobles and scurrying servants.
Unfortunately for him, his presence had been insisted upon, for it is not every day that a country acquires a new sovereign.

The year was 1559 and Elizabeth I had ascended the throne. He would not have guessed it at the time, but she would become one of his most beloved queens, not only by himself but by his people as well. The fiery devotion to her countrymen, her stubborn intelligence and her desire to do good was as vibrant as her red hair.

In just a few weeks time she would have to show that side of her. Combined with her wits and well-spoken manners she would convince the court that the subject of her choosing a husband was the least of their —England's— worries.

But for the moment, the newly crowned queen was a desirable match for any foreign king, prince or noble.

Which was why the whole court had assembled to congratulate her majesty, along with several foreign ambassadors... and their nations.

"For the last time, Frog, I will not throw in a good word for your Duke of Anjou as suitor for my queen!"

"Ah, Angleterre, don't be so tedious," France calmly said as he put his ruff back in place where England had taken a hold of him. "An alliance between our two countries would be most advantageous for you, mon cher."

England's thick eyebrows lowered dangerously. "As if! Why in the world would I need you? You think because you took back Calais that I fear you now?" He tsk'ed. "You simply saved me from another French burden."

France smiled sourly at England's words and a challenging frown contorted his pretty features. "A marriage would keep any opposition from my nobles at bay, cher Angleterre. Not to mention, it would give Écosse no reason to oppose your queen's rule."

At the mention of his older brother, England's furrowed brow lifted. Scotland —and more precisely, his queen Mary— could eventually become a problem, he was aware of that. France was widely present in his older brother's lands, and if England so much as stepped one toe out of line concerning Scotland, France would be upon him in the blink of an eye.

The Auld Alliance was still standing, and it was a threat that England could not easily brush of as unimportant.

"You are simply afraid of Austria and Spain surrounding you, choking you," England growled in retaliation, and when France crinkled his nose at his words, he knew he had found the true reason for his old enemy's whispered threats.

"Pfft, that is not true at all," the Frenchman said. "As if those two could ever frighten me."

England smirked triumphantly and was about to point out his little conversational victory when the crowd parted ways at the sound of a trumpet. England looked over the heads of his gathered nobility and his smirk grew. "Speaking of the Habsburgs..."

Down the middle of the courtroom, a delegation of Austrian and Spanish ambassadors stepped towards the dais where England's new queen was seated upon her golden throne. A herald announced their names and titles loudly whenever they kneeled down in front of her majesty.

England saw Austria first. Dressed in a doublet of Tyrian purple and a jerkin of highly embroidered leather, he looked every bit the stuffy aristocrat that he was. And behind him came Spain, dressed in his favourite shade of red —rosso corsa. His garments laced with professionally sown golden details and golden trinkets hanging from equally golden pins on his thick cloak.

That arse, England mentally grumbled. He just can't resist flaunting his wealth, now can he?

Momentarily occupied by that thought, England belatedly saw there was someone standing next to Spain, but due to the fact that the Spaniard's blindingly bright outfit and monstrosity of a cloak hid the stranger from view, the only thing England could distinguish was a maroon-coloured cone-shaped skirt sweeping over the floor.

France, being slightly taller than he was, was able to see the stranger's face and his voice was oddly unenthusiastic when he spoke, "Ah,... it seems like Spain did not come alone."

The moment Spain stepped aside to let his ambassadors take his place, England saw curls of molten gold and a heart-shaped face.

England felt like his ruff was choking him. The fabric seemed to scald his skin all the way down to his heart, only to have chills run back up his spine in repercussion. His eyes did not leave her form. He had not seen her for so long, and hers was a face he was glad to look upon. He was so focussed on the colour of her eyes and the shape of her lips that he did not notice the quick, sullen look France gave him.

The sound of instruments playing a Volta shook England out of his reverie, and it was only then that he let his eyes slide away from Belgae's face and down to her hands. When he saw her dainty porcelain fingers resting comfortably on Spain's arm, waving her other hand in front of her lips to cover up a giggle at something the Spanish Empire had whispered closely to the shell of her ear, England's eyes widened.

It felt like something heavy had plummeted into the pit of his stomach.

Maybe a rock.

Or maybe his heart.

The initial shock was quickly replaced by anger. As people crowded around them to either dance or watch those who danced, all England could see was red. He simply could not fathom why she would act so amicably with the country who now ruled over her, decided every matter in her name, taxed her people,...

He was still too focussed trying to burn a hole through Spain's chest, muttering incantations under his breath, that he barely felt France's sudden grip on his shoulder. It was only when he heard his low, hushed voice close to his ear that he saw the world again in a less vicious colour.

"Careful, Angleterre. Spain as he is now is not someone you want as your enemy."

England roughly shrugged France's hand away and gritted his teeth. "There is a difference between conquering child-colonies and battling a seasoned nation like myself, Frog."

"Marie is almost as old as you, Angleterre," France pointed out, "and as experienced in the ways of the world. As is her brother. And yet, they had not the strength nor the means to stop Spain from collecting them into his empire."

England was about to snap at France's words when he saw Belgae dusting of Spain's doublet, trailing the palms of her hands down his chest and laying them to rest there for far longer then propriety would allow. His snark reply died on the tip of his tongue, seeing green now instead of red.

"She doesn't seem to mind belonging to him, does she?"

France chuckled. "You are so easily fooled, Angleterre. As, no doubt, most men would be. She's merely playing the part of subordinate nation. She may not have the physical strength, but chère Marie has her wits and her charms to get what she wants."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you seem pleased with yourself when you say that."

"Well, I might have taught her a trick or two," France said cheerfully with his trademark, "Ohonhonhon~"

"You bleeding sack of dir—"

France merely held a finger in front of England's lips and the sheer proximity of anything smelling like French cheese close to his person made England choke on his insult. "What you have been too blind to see," France hummed, "is that our dearest Marie has been searching for you ever since she stepped into the room."

England reeled in his gag-reflex and glanced back towards Spain and Belgae when France's words had sunk in. Austria, having left his ambassadors behind, had Marie now standing in between the two Habsburg empires, and England's stomach knotted together rather pleasantly when he saw that, indeed, she was carefully scanning the large room ever so subtly.

If it really was him that she was looking for, though? He doubted it.

The contented feeling he had felt previously vanished completely. Why would she hold him in higher regard than any of the other nations in the room? She was more likely searching for France among the crowd. Not himself.

England barely had time to rearrange his thoughts when France grabbed him by the shoulders and started to push him forward.

"Stop over-thinking the situation," he chuckled. "Just go over there and welcome them. You are the host-country after all."

"H- Hey!" England protested as he was guided past rows and rows of humans and towards their fellow nations. "Stop pushing me you blasted Frenchie! I'm perfectly capable getting to them on my own!"

France grinned as the annoyed Brit shrugged him off with a growl. "Try to keep that dreadful temper of yours contained, Angleterre. It would be very distasteful of you if this encounter ends in a declaration of war."

"As if you'd care whether it would end that way or not," England scoffed.

France shrugged, "I would not necessarily worry for you, mon cher. You've become quite the strong opponent," France smiled softly when he said so, remembering his fellow nation as the small, stubborn child he had once been. "But I dread to know what would happen to the countries under the Habsburgs' rule," his smile reduced to a small, thin line, "like Marie."

The fact that France was not talking lightly about the matter bothered England. Being one of the stronger nations on the continent, he most likely knew the full strength and power that lay beneath Spain's easy smiles and Austria's stuck-up attitude. He would never say so out loud, but England was about to heed France's words very carefully.

They were now only a few feet away from reaching their destination. A small cluster of noblemen and -women was the only obstacle that stood between them. England inhaled deeply to try and subdue the fluttering sensation in his stomach, and walked swiftly passed his gathered nobility.

"Arthur!"

To be continued~

Translation:

Angleterre = England (Fr.)
Mon cher = my dear (Fr.)
Écosse = Scotland (Fr.)
Chère Marie = dear(est) Marie (Fr.)

Historical Information:

Elizabeth I: was queen of England and Ireland from 17 November 1558 until her death on 24 March 1603. She was crowned on 15 January 1559. She was the fifth and last monarch of the Tudor dynasty and came to rule by the death of her half-sister, Mary. Despite numerous courtships, and despite the fact that Elizabeth's claim to the throne would become even more indisputable if she were to marry and produce an heir, she never did get married. She became famous for her virginity, earning her the title, ''The Virgin Queen'. Elizabeth I's reign lasted 44 years —also known as the Elizabethan Era— and raised England's status, forging a sense of national identity. It was England's start of a Golden Age.

The Auld Alliance: was the alliance between the kingdoms of Scotland and France. The alliance played a significant role in the relations between Scotland, France and England from its beginning in 1295 until the 1560 Treaty of Edinburgh. The alliance dates from the treaty signed by John Balliol and Philip IV of France in 1295 against Edward I of England. The terms of the treaty stipulated that if either country was attacked by England, the other country would invade English territory. The alliance played an important role in conflicts between both countries and England, such as the Hundred Years' War.

The Habsburg Empire: is an unofficial appellation among historians for the countries and provinces, which were ruled by the junior Austrian branch of the House of Habsburg until 1780, and then by the successor branch of Habsburg-Lorraine until 1918. The Monarchy was a composite state composed of territories within and outside the Holy Roman Empire, united in the person of the monarch.
The senior branch of the House of Habsburg was the Spanish branch, while the Austrian branch was the junior branch. (Charles V had divided the dynasty between its Austrian and Spanish branches upon his abdication in 1556.) Each of them held several territories. Together they were called the Habsburg domain. There were several other countries that we know of today who were a part of the Habsburg Empire, such as Belgium, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Croatia, Czech Republic, (parts of) France, Germany, Hungary, Italy, Liechtenstein, Luxembourg, Netherlands, Poland, Romania, Serbia, Slovakia, Slovenia, Switzerland and Ukraine.

In 1559: Elizabeth I of England is crowned and parliament passes the Act of Uniformity and the Act of Supremacy, re-establishing the Protestant Church of England. France makes peace with England and Spain (Peace of Cateau Canbrésis, 2 April), giving up most of its gains in Italy (a.k.a. Romano) but keeps the formerly English town of Calais, which he conquered four months prior. Philip II of Spain makes his half-sister Margaret of Parma governor of the Spanish Netherlands (a.k.a. Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg), who had to face the rising storms of discontent against the Inquisition and Spanish despotism. Belgium (mostly known then as 'Flanders') continued to be one of the richest and most developed regions in the world, as she was a very intelligent and cunning trades(wo)man. From the 16th century onward the area of Belgium served as the battleground between many European powers, causing it to be dubbed the "Battlefield of Europe", a reputation strengthened even more by both World Wars.