Until the Very End [France X Joan of Arc]

**Quick Note- this is probably not historically accurate. I have tried in the past to try and get the facts and to get this as straight as possible, but if this isn't historically accurate, please don't chew me out in the comments. And also, please read description after reading! ~ChangeOfHearts101**

*May 29, 1431. France is at the height in its revolution against England in the 100 Years' War, and the maiden that came from nowhere and seemed to be helping the desperate situation, was sentenced to death by Arthur himself. Francis loved her immensely. A ma'm who can do so much in so little time, and at such a young age, amazed him. It was strange for him, to love someone so fresh in life. But who was he to compare? Hundreds upon hundreds, thousands, of years ahead of everyone we walked with now. 

And so, despite his hardest efforts to reject the deal, he was unable to. His citizens were blinded by a promise of plausible peace before them, and if sacrificing a girl was the only way through, why not? And now, before her was a burning death at the stake. What happened after the announcement is what proceeds* 

Francis could hardly believe. Joan did so many amazing things in such a small amount of time. And he had to go along with it. Because of the people. They had to stay alive. That was the dire situation here. Francis was in so much stress and so happy victories had been going so well, that he was nearly blinded that the people did not like being led by a woman. They didn't care. They all thought her delusional and hopeless. But Francis believed every word of those dreams supposedly from God. She fascinated him in no way any woman had before. He had come to love her dearly. But he supposed this fate was to be carried out. And if it will get this war done, so be it. 

That didn't mean he had to like it. 

He found himself pacing the castle of King Charles VII of France. Oh, yeah, this King? He was able to be crowned because of Joan. Francis found it bizarre how even the King wasn't able to pull her back, despite all of his pleas. The King would do nothing. Francis found himself to the point of pulling out his blond hair in distress and despair. It wasn't fair! Why did it have to be her? Let her do more! Let her help more! Francis looked up to the beautifully crafted ceiling piece. A blue sky with clouds and cherubs and beauty. Freedom. He wished only he could be that way, instead of stuck on Earth. He wished Joan could stay too. He closed his eyes, the painting still vividly sewn into his mind. 

"I wonder why..." 

"You do too?" 

Francis opened his eyes and looked behind himself to see the sound of the voice. None other than Joan herself. Francis could help himself. He ran up and engulfed her in a welcoming hug. If only he could keep his eyes from crying. Tomorrow she would burn. Tomorrow she would die. Tomorrow she would be gone forever from this Earth.

"I don't want to go, Francis," Joan whispered. "I'm so scared."

"I am too, mademoiselle. I want to do something to help but... I cannot." Francis could only keep her there. She looked so thin compared to himself, especially when he was hugging her so tightly, and her arms barely able to reach around his waist to hug back. "I must ask, however, how did you get in here?"

Joan didn't look up. "A man with strangled blond hair. And bushy eyebrows. He said Francis may want to see me before I go."

Francis smiled a little. The little Brit thought of him. Perhaps he knew...