Redirecting The Fates

FRUK

This has FRUK in it. It has fem! france and fem! america. So it also has a touch of USUK. 

It is also Human! AU

The year was 1892 in London, England. There was a boy and a girl, as every story goes. The boy was just a wee thing, at the age of six. His name was Arthur Kirkland, he had messy dirty blond hair, emerald green eyes, and big eyebrows. The girl was Jeanne Bonnefoy, a little French girl at the age of five. She had honey blonde hair pulled into a loose bun, big, bright violet eyes, and a cute little smile. They both came from noble families, always dressed in the best, and both very polite. Jeanne had gone to England with her father and mother for a vacation, they had grown tired of living in the French countryside. The original month-long journey had been extended because of a riot in their town that lasted several years. Over this time Jeanne and Arthur had become great friends.

 Ten years had past and young love was beginning to bloom. Once they had fallen in love, Jeanne was told that she was to return back to France with her mother, father and new younger sister. The second Jeanne had found out, she rushed to Arthur's house. 

"Arthur! I must go back to France!" she cried once her eyes laid on him. "If ...you must..." he trails off, looking upset. 

Jeanne nods and wipes her eyes for she had begun to cry. Jeanne turned to leave but she whirled around and pressed a quick kiss to Arthur's lips and quickly left a blushing mess. The kiss had also left Arthur a blushing mess and he slowly lifted a hand to his lips. Jeanne's journey back to France had been cut short, her family had to take a boat, the boat was a beautiful, big, ship. Sadly, a storm had wrecked the ship, there was no survivors and the word never reached farther than France. Years went by without any letter from Jeanne and Arthur had forgotten about Jeanne after many months of heartbreak. More years past and strange things began to happen, things would be moved and shadows could be seen through the corner of his eyes. 

As the years had passed, Arthur now at the age of twenty-six; had fallen in love with another girl, a twenty-one-year-old American named Amelia F. Jones. She had come to England on business, the trip was to be until she was done with her job; she was a detective that was assigned to the Scotland Yard. Slowly, things started to get more and more dangerous, Amelia kept getting injured in the strangest of ways. After being together for eight months, Arthur asks Amelia to move in with him. Things had gotten worse and Arthur was getting hurt on accident. After three months of continuous accidents, Amelia broke up with Arthur. He was heartbroken.

 He kept crying and had turned to drinking most nights; Arthur had begun to hear a voice most days. 

It would always whisper "I didn't mean to hurt jou. She vas awful. I'm here for you. I'm the only one for you. You only need me. You only have me. You are mine. You will be mine. ".

 He was withering away, on top of drinking he had began to eat less and less. Weeks had past with him dreaming, drinking and crying, his time was near. At the stroke of midnight, he sat in his parlour with a drink, he saw a woman. She looked to be about twenty-six, a year younger than he. 

The spirit looked to wear a white gown with long hair the shade of honey, it was in a messy braid that fell over her shoulder. Her eyes were a piercing violet with black surrounding it.  Milky white skin with a tint of blue and grey peaked out of the sleeves and the collar while her lips were a pale blue. 

Arthur looked at her and whispered "Jeanne?"

She nodded and smiled showing off rotten teeth and black gums. Arthur reeled back while she floated closer. 

She softly sang while she came closer,  "Arthur, I vill always be here for you. I vill protect you. Come to me, my love... and never leave me again. " The once beautiful song turned sour once she ended her sentence.

Her song turned sweet again "I vill never leave jou as zhat idiot American did." 

It really was his Jeanne with that entrancing French accent, she truly looked like an angel. She was an angel, HIS angel. His GUARDIAN angel.  

 His breathing slows and his eyes go hazy as she leans in and places a kiss on his lips. Once she pulls away, his breathing stops, and the surrounding candles flicker before all but two go out. A figure is shown shakily embracing her. The pair of lovers had been reunited, both through death; one angry and one scared.

I wrote this for my English class last year. I thought you would like this! be sure to let me know. But anyways HAVE A SUNFLOWER STAY YOU STAY BEAUTIFUL AND STAY CREEPY! I LOVE YOU GUYS! *HOLDS OUT A SUNFLOWER WHILE SMILING* Also I got an A on this, I was very proud of myself.