.:{Roses and Thorns}:..:{FrUk}:.

Chapter One- Love At First Sight?

England called out for his son, his patience running thin. England was, and will be, the king of Britannia until his son, Britain, came of age. When the Queen of the neighbouring kingdom of Francia had a daughter, he had made an agreement with Kingdom France. The agreement specified that, when her daughter would come of age, she would marry Britain to keep ties between the kingdoms. Kingdom of France had agreed in an instant, eagerly awaiting the day.

Today was the day Britain was to be introduced to the lovely Princess France. Despite her title, she had been described as a fierce young woman. She had never followed her mother's wishes. Instead of wearing dresses and corsets like a proper lady, she wore simple shirts and trousers. When her mother wanted her to grow her hair long, she cut it. She was a hassle, and England worried for his son against this rebellious girl.

Britain walked down the grand staircase with grace. Dressed in his finest shirt, vest, and trousers, he bowed to greet his father. He quickly began to lace up his knee-high boots, glancing in the mirror before deciding to put on a top hat for an extra flair of sophistication. He turned to his father, offering a nod of respect.

"My Son," England mused, "you look handsome. There is no doubt you'll have Her Highness's heart by the end of this meeting."

"Thank you, Father. I greatly appreciate your words. I myself believe I am quite intrigued by Princess France by the information you've ever so kindly provided me."

"My Son, remember, you have to knock some sense into that girl! Her actions are not befitting to a woman of her title."

Britain nodded, bowing low, before grabbing a pocket watch and heading out the door. When he stepped into the fresh breeze of the morning, he let the landscape fill his senses. The smell of fresh dew filled his nose, and his eyes scanned over the great mountains bordering his father's kingdom. He walked through the royal courtyard to the stables, where a servant had his horse saddled up and ready for the ride to a gazebo at the near end of the border to Francia.

With a nod of thanks to the servant, he climbed onto the angelic white stallion, squeezing his ankles against the horses' side. He clicked his tongue, and the horse began the journey to the border. As his horse trotted along the trail, he waved and nodded to the townspeople with a warm smile. They eagerly greeted him back. At one point, he halted the stallion and bought a bouquet of flowers, thinking it might help with his first impression. He had also bought an apple, which he had given to the horse.

As he neared the border, his gut twisted with nervousness. What if she wasn't there? What if he didn't make a good impression? What if she didn't like him? What if she had another lover?

He quickly pushed those thoughts aside, plastering a smile on his face as he came upon the silhouette of the gazebo. In the middle, he could see the figure of someone in a gown. His heart sped up in anticipation.

Britain pulled his horse to a stop, unmounting and tying the reins to a post. He took off his hat and smoothed out his hair before putting it back on and stepping into the gazebo. There he saw her: Princess France of Francia.

His breath caught in his throat. She looked stunning. In fact, she looked nothing of what his father had told him. Her hair matched the flag on her face, her bright purple eyes glittered with mischievous intentions. She was not in a shirt and trousers, but an elegant rose gown with flower designs. Her hair was worn in a simple braid. With a start, he quickly bowed low.

"Good evening, Your Highness," he greeted, his voice straining with anxiety. She raised a brow. He quickly added, "I... I brought these for you, as a gift." He offered out the bouquet, a nervous smile curving his lips.

France looked at the bouquet, then replied, "No thank you. Merci."

Britain's heart sank for a moment. "I see, M'lady," he replied. Instead, he reached out and took her hand, pressing a kiss to her gloved knuckles. She retracted her hand. He respected her wishes and straightened up.

He decided to go in with a compliment next. "You look beautiful, Your Highness," he said with a small smile.

"Hm. Vous êtes un peu beau," she replied. Britain blinked in confusion.

"Uh, I am sorry, Madame, I'm afraid I didn't catch that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Don't worry about it, chèrie."

"Ah, okay. Would you perhaps be interested in going on a walk with me, My Lady?" Britain inquired, holding out his arm for her. His heart soared as she took it, albeit reluctantly.

He gently put a gloved hand over hers and began to lead her through the countryside of his kingdom. He pointed out sights and sounds, which France seemed to slowly warm up to. As they continued to walk, France stopped and pointed to a pond.

It was a simple pond, with algae covering the surface layer of the body of water. Beneath it, fish darted from side to side, hiding beneath water lilies. Standing beside it, like a silent sentinel, was an old willow tree whose limbs touched the water. Underneath that was a rock, large and flat.

France turned to Britain, her eyes shining. "May we?" she asked.

Britain's gaze locked onto France's purple eyes, then to the pond. After a moment, he smiled and nodded. They made their way over, and he helped France onto the rock. She sat, watching the water with a graceful expression.

Britain felt awkward, so he decided to lean against the tree, but France looked over and patted the seat beside her. He obliged, sitting beside her with the bouquet still clutched in his grip. He glanced over at her, basking in her beauty.

France suddenly gripped his arm, pointing out to the pond. Britain followed her gaze, where a swan had landed in the water, floating peacefully against the soft ripples. Soon, a second joined the first.

The swans swam around each other, honking at one another like an arguing couple. They then quieted down, their necks curving into a heart.

Britain snuck a quick glance at France, then returned his gaze back to the swans.

...

Author's Note:

Hi, I'm back. I am sorry for being gone so long, I honestly forgot about this account ;-;

I'll try to be more active, and take this new FrUK book as an apology. There may be smut later in the book, my Lovelies. 

Love y'all

Work check: 1

Words: 1135