Of What was Lost

Accompaniment of Dead, Not Gone.

England stepped around the corner curious to see France's mad savior, the rumors about her had forged a curiosity that could not be ignored. Upon walking up to her cell, he gaped. She had her back turned to him, but he could see the pale deathly beings standing to the left of her. One whispered something that England could not make out and the young woman answered "You think that would work?"

Turning his back on the scene before him, England raced away. Once a safe distance from the Joan and her spirits, he pressed himself against the cool stone wall and clutched at his heart. She had been talking to them. Though,it didn't seem she actually saw them, being that she stared straight forward when they were to the left of her. But he was certain, no, he knew she heard them! Never, had England met a human who spoke so openly with spirits. But...hadn't the girl claimed she talked to angels, saints? England paled, his breath chocking out in a harsh gasp. The spirits! They were playing with the pour girl! England stood up on shaky legs, he needed to tell the king!

xxxxx

"Your majesty! Please! She is not a witch, she just hears them!" England pleaded to his king.

"The girl's a witch! Only black magic would allow her to hear spirits!" King Henry growled, glowering at the teenager bowed at his feet.

"Allowing her to be burned at the stake, will only anger France further..." England tried.

"Silence! She will be given her trial and then burned and if you do not wish to be locked away during this time I tell you to obey!" Henry shouted. England winced, pulling away from his king.

"Yes sir" England whispered, inching out of the man's room. As he meandered into the far recesses of the castle, England briefly considered freeing the girl himself. Sighing, he decided it would not work, but maybe...he could tell France and he could do something for her! Rushing to his room, England grabbed up his cloak. A letter would not be sufficient to explain to France the situation, he would have to talk to the older nation in person. Tugging the hood of his cloak over his head, England left the castle unnoticed.

xxxxx

Passing enemy lines, England darted around spying for a familiar blond. When he saw a young man step out from a tent, England gasped. It seemed France had done a bit of growing since he'd seen him last, the older boy appeared to be a young man now past the gangly limbs of puberty. He was speaking to two other men, suddenly they laughed. Taking his chance England shot forward grabbing the bigger nation away from his comrades.

"Wha- 'ey!" France snarled as he was tugged away from his knights and between two tents. Peering down angrily, he was met by a pair of glittering green eyes hidden in the protective shadows of a hood. "Angleterre?" France hissed glaring at the young teen. The boy fretted with the hem of his cloak, then angled a pleading gaze at him.

"Please France, just listen." The blond child whispered.

France pursed his lips. He was no mood to talk to Angleterre he had captured his dear Joan and they had yet to give her back. "What do you want?" He sneered, crossing his arms in an effort to not strangle the young teen.

England flinched, staring down at the ground. "I-I" England stammered, taking a deep breath he continued "I want to help you get Joan back..."

France took a step back, thoroughly shocked. "Quoi?"

With earnest eyes England said "My king...he's going to let her burn at the stake. But, he can't! She different, I need her to live!" England cried in desperation.

"Burn 'er?" France murmured.

"For heresy and-" England stopped. France stared at him silently urging the boy to finish. In a small voice England mumbled "and-and 'cause I told him she hears spirits."

"'ow dare you! She is not a witch!" France hissed. His eyes narrowed angrily, fists clenched at his side.

"Not everyone who communicates with the dead are witches!" England burst.

France lashed out knocking the younger boy to the ground. "Go away! You filthy Englishman! I will not be tricked!" France shouted.

Scrambling to his feet, England screamed face flushed red with anger. "Fine! See if I help your stupid Joan!" Tears stinging his eyes he raced away back to England.

It didn't matter any longer if the girl were to live or die. France had rejected his help and did not believe Joan could possibly speak to spirits, for speaking to the dead was witches work and therefore evil. If he would not believe him about Joan, then why would he ever believe England himself could not only hear them but see them as well? Wiping away angry tears, England cursed himself for them. He wanted, needed, to see the witch be burned at the stake to make sure France would hurt as much as he did now.

xxxxx

England watched with the cheering crowd as the young woman screamed as the fire licked at her skirt burning her alive bit by bit. He felt sick to his stomach, but would not admit it was because France would never forgive him, but instead because of the awful smell of burning flesh. The screams died down, and the girl's head went limp. He watched as they proceeded to take her body down and burn it several times over until only ash remained.

Turning his head away, England caught a glimpse of a familiar face towards the back of the crowd. Lifting his head, he winced at the anger burning in familiar blue eyes. France would hate him for the rest of eternity, England could be certain. He followed the procession to the Siene river where they dumped the ash. Daring to glance back, he caught sight of France's horrified features. Tears began to spill from the blue eyes and England could no longer stand being here any longer.

He ran away, trying to escape the guilt and anger caused by the girl's burning. For centuries to come he would try and bury away the memories of this day. But, they would come back to haunt him and his dreams, always leaving the nagging question of what if he'd spoken with the girl? What if he'd told France he spoke to spirits as well? Would he have believe him then? Called him a witch? Would Joan the Arc have lived?

xxxxx

Hundreds of years later, England stared reflectively into his glass of whiskey. "You know..." England trailed off, not looking at his companion across from him who held a glass of wine in his own hand. "She really did hear them, I heard her speaking to a couple...I had thought...well, it doesn't much matter now I suppose. She's been dead for centuries and I have not ever seen another like her. I suppose she was not meant to be alive then, too much of a threat."

France frowned at the younger nation. "What are you talking about Angleterre?"

England looked eyes dulled by whiskey. "Why Joan, of course." England sighed. "I suppose you still don't believe me though, after all only witches and demons see spirits." The young man spat.

France felt his blood go cold. "Arthur, I-"

"Save it frog! I don't want to hear your stupid excuses! You don't believe me and you never will! I know it!" England snapped. Dropping his glass, it spilled cracking on the hard wood floors. "Get out! I don't want to see your face anymore!" The blond screamed, picking up a book and flinging it at the Frenchman. France jumped to his feet, running from the room and then the house.

Heaving, England flopped back in his chair. "You didn't 'ave to do that you know" A voice behind told him.

England bent his head back staring at the familiar woman. "If he hadn't been so stupid he could have had you." England grumbled to her.

The girl gave a wan smile. "Oui, I suppose 'e could 'ave."

Sighing, England dragged a hand through his messy hair. Lifting a hand he gestured to the abandoned chair across from him. "Care for a chat Joan?"

The shadows beneath the girl's eyes lifted as she smiled. "It would be my pleasure."

So what do you guys think? Is it any good? Do you think anything should be fixed? Please review, thank you for reading.

Words:

Angleterre: England

Quoi: What

Oui: Yes