Hetalia Drabbles

Oppurtunities (FrUk)

Disclaimer:I do not own the following work of fiction.

Third person P.O.V

Angleterre?" France asked, sounding strangely broken.

"What is it, you bloody frog?" England snapped, lowering his newspaper to see the older nation's face.

France slowly walked up to England, not looking at the Brit the whole time.

"...Well? What is it, git?"

"Angle--" France started, before finally making eye contact with England. "Arthur."

"What're you hiding behind your back?" Arthur questioned, trying to see what was France was holding behind himself.

"...Nothing." France lightly ghosted his fingers over the object.

"I swear, you frog, if it's another thing of roses, I'll kill you,"

England spat. It was, of course, an empty promise. If France was hiding a bouquet of roses behind his back so that he could ask England out on another date, England would merely sputter and hide his embarrassment, accepting the request like the last thousand times.

"It is not," France promised. "But would you like to see what it is?" His voice still sounded distant, empty.

"Of course." England let his newspaper rest against the table as he crossed his arms and glared at the Frenchman, blushing slightly as he expected flowers.

Without any hesitation, France held out a dagger, pointing it at England, causing the Brit to sputter and scoot back. "Bloody hell, France, watch where you point that th--" he started.

"I want you to kill me," France stated, his unreadable expression staying.

England choked on nothing. He was expecting France to stab him in the neck -- he would bleed excessively for a while, but then again, England was a nation and would heal after a while. Killing an entire nation, after all, was nearly impossible. "Wha-- WHAT?!"

"Simple. I want you to kill me... Or at least stab me somewhere where I will feel pain. You know, my neck, my stomach, my heart..."

England shook his head. "Why me?!"

"Simple. We have had a long rivalry. You hate me, so I decided that I might as well let you do it... you know, as my last gift to you."

"I-I can't fucking kill you! Do you... I can't!" England continued shaking his head, staring at the blade in disbelief. "You're a na--"

"It does not matter. If I will myself hard enough, I will die. My government will collapse completely, and there will be chaos for a few days. If, however, you are the one who kills me, you will gain control over all of my land and territories. If you will not do it, however..." France pointed the blade at his own neck. "I will not hesitate to do it myself."

"Francis, Francis, Francis..." England stood up and gently took the dagger from France's hands, staring the older man in the eyes. "Francis, I don't understand your sudden will to die. Wh--"

"Arthur. Just do it. You would not have hesitated in the past, so what is so different about now?"

England held his breath and closed his eyes. Moments passed, though it seemed like an eternity for both of them.

The dagger hit the floor and England stepped back. "You'd never do it... coward..." he mumbled.