Servitude - HETALIA

Chapter Two - Maple Leaves

Lisette Dupont POV

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     I peer up at the white marbled building before me, dozens of tiny steps beckoning me towards the large double doors leading inside. My breath catches in my throat as I stand there, frozen, while the others stroll past like it was just another day. 

     "You'll be okay", Alora's voice chirps from behind me as she sets a delicate hand on my shoulder, subtly smoothing the wrinkles on my blouse. "It's really not as hard as you think."

     The difficulty of the job isn't the problem, it's knowing that The Francis Bonnefoy, Personification of The French Nation, is just within a few steps of me. My legs shake and tremble as Alora guides me, her hand pressed firm on the small of my back. It feels as if my mind and soul is disconnected from my body as we finally reach the entrance and make our way down the long, red-carpeted hallways. There are so many portraits of former German governors and political figures, each accompanied by a door on each side leading to God knows where. Alora leads me to the conference room as if she's been here a million times, which she very well may have. I'll never be able to memorize all these hallways and rooms! 

     Klaus waits for everyone to join him at the towering double-doors leading to the meeting room, a faint murmur seeping through from the inside. It's as if I can already hear Mr. Bonnefoy's smooth, confident voice from the other side. 

     "Just follow me", Alora whispers as Klaus gracefully pushes open the door, holding it open for us to enter.

     My feet feel like lead as we head inside, and the sight before me almost sends me unconscious. A long oval table draped with a pure white cloth is set in the middle of the floor, documents and maps scattered around every which way. At the very front, I see Germany pointing at a large white-board, a map of the world sloppily drawn on it. He looks much taller in person.

     I scan the room for The One and Only, and finally, my eyes land upon a slender yet broad shouldered man with long, soft, beautiful golden hair. I can't help but let out a tiny shriek, barely audible, as my breath thins and my cheeks burn bright. It's him! It's really him! Before I can obsess any longer, Klaus clears his throat and ushers me over to join the line against the wall. I quickly scurry over next to Alora and Nikolai, and try my best to fix my hair and posture. 

     "You like France huh? No wonder, your accent is super obvious", Nikolai whispers, nudging my shoulder. 

     I nod, feeling the heat spread to my ears, making me sweat buckets. "I think.. I think he's really cool", I whisper back, staring at Mr. Bonnefoy, his back turned to me. 

     He doesn't say anything, but I can see his slight smirk from the corner of my eye. Klaus begins to go down the isle of assistants, pointing at a list on his clipboard. One by one, each go to their designated countries, two for each, and stand with their hands behind their back, chins held up high. Alora is next, and I watch as she's read her placement, then marches off to her position between Italy and Japan. So lucky, getting her birth country!

      Klaus then stands before me, his eyes scanning down the list. 

     "You're between France and Britain."

     My eyes widen, and I let out a breathless gasp. No way. No way! Seriously!? My first day ever and I'm right next to France!? I press my lips tight together to conceal the wide grin about to burst out at any moment, but then Nikolai interrupts my internal celebration.

     "Actually, me and Lise here switched. She'll take Canada and America."

     Before I can protest, Klaus sighs and commands us to get to our designated spots. I watch Nikolai walk away, planting himself behind France and Britain and flashing me a devilish smile. With a defeated sigh, I slump my shoulders and trudge behind Canada and America. Still, I try my best to look as professional as possible, knowing Mr. Bonnefoy could look my way any moment. He's sat across the table, so I get a perfect view of his chiseled features and perfectly groomed beard. He has his reading glasses on as he delicately skims through papers in his folder, making my heart skip a beat. How can one man look so divine? He truly is the epitome of grace and elegance. Oh how happy I am to have been born French.