In the Name of Sin (APH France x Joan d'Arc)

02: The Beginning of an Interstice

"Call me Big Brother France."

His words brought confusion to the young child before him. It had been five years since he had met the rumored child, yet his appearance didn't change even for a bit…though that went unnoticed for the guileless youngling.

"But isn't France-" he covered her mouth as he couldn't help but smile at her small attempt of explaining.

"Why don't you tell me your's? It's an etiquette to tell your name to someone who introduce himself to you, is it not?" He lectured the child as he carried her into his arms and walked to the small hut she lived in.

"I'm Jeanne," she said between giggles when he tickled her with his other hand before putting her down. The resemblance of her name almost scared him, but it didn't stop his action from stepping within the grounds of what Jeanne called her home.

Entering the shabby shelter, he couldn't help but reminiscence the years before- where war was constant in every corner of his lands. Speaking in a tone of curiosity, he asked, "Where is your family?"

"They've passed away…"

Despite knowing the answer, he wanted to make sure of what he had heard a few years prior. After being called back by the lord of his lands for work and political issues, it had been years since he visited Domrémy. He never noticed how long he had been away as days and weeks seemed like seconds merely passing by.

When he had returned, the changes in the town almost startled him- Old man Giles has passed away. Every women he charmed had husbands and families of their own. The children he saw before have grown up.

   It was only him who hasn't changed.

"I'm on my own," Jeanne whispered, almost inaudible.

Her soft voice brought him back, nonetheless he patted her head and went to her makeshift kitchen. He looked back at her sulking frame before returning to what he had planned. "You must be hungry. Let me make you a meal," he said before going out to go back to the village. His leave almost wasn't noticed till Jeanne heard scrunches of his boots outside.

"Will you still stay with me after dinner?" She asked, tangling her tiny fingers to her tattered dress.

Laughing softly at her simple question, he stopped from walking and replied, "I'll stay with you as long as you like. Also while I'm away, stay here and wait for me. "

"Then…take care," she weakly said, peeking at his retreating form, before scurrying back inside.

"You too," he whispered and continued his errand.

   Such meeting became a forgotten small endeavor amidst his leviathan memory.

The sound of sword sheathing back onto it's scabbard became prominent. Collecting his belongings, he rode on his white stallion as he pulled on its reigns. Looking behind his, the scene of the town came into his vision. The winds brought the sweet scent of flowers and soil.

"Adieu, Jeanne…" he whispered, his eyes closing at his goodbye.

   It was like a repetition of his endless memory.

Though this time around, he was fortunate enough to not see her death again. He was already lucky to see her in this lifetime.

His stallion beginning to walk, he was halted when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Big Brother France!"

Turning on his back, he saw a eleven-year old Jeanne. Smiling with sadness lingering on his face, he didn't stop his impending actions and rode away.

   He was too far for Jeanne to follow.

"Liar…" she cried as she fell on her knees.

'I'll stay with you,' his sweet voice resonated on her young mind.

"Liar…"

---

"We have arrived," his chauffeur announced as France hummed in response. Moving the red silk curtains of his black carriage, he saw the quaint town of Domrémy- again after ten years.

Stepping of his pristine transportation, the breeze flew pass him, of which made him reminiscence of the years before. Sighing contently, he muttered, "How long has it been?"

Mulling over his memories, the breeze unfastened the ribbon that tied his hair. Curly blonde locks flowing past his shoulders, he came off as a beautiful and splendor knight out of a fairy tale. Though his very own tale was distinguishable from an uplifting and desirable happy end…

"Are you a noble from the capital?" A petite womanly voice asked.

Thoughts intervened once again, his eyes met blues as a soft gasp escaped from his mouth.

"Jeanne…" he whispered, unheard by the woman before him.

---

The smell of medicine and natural herbs wafted in the room whilst pained coughs echoed. The physician looked solemly at France for the news about the health of the woman breathing softly on the bed.

"Her health has been declining these past few years...I fear that there is no remedy for her illness. Nonetheless, her illness is unknown yet, I can't-" his report was halted when France smashed the wooden table beside him, the candle's small flame flickering.

"Then you better do something!" He bolted out and sat beside the bed Jeannne was sleeping at.

'Francis…if ever I would never wake up again, please, please- promise me you'd still remember me…' the soft whimpers of desperation in her voice haunted him, but despite feeling his spine shivering, he held her hand tightly and give her his word.

Such sweet yet bitter memories for a merciless man like him. He has seen the beginning of life and the end of someone, likewise he never did intervene to end that cycle. But now that he was in front of her death itself, he can't help but fell a pang if anger within him. Was he angry at death itself? Or was he angry at himself for not being able to soothe the pain Jeanne felt?

Caressing Jeanne's sleeping face, he didn't notice a droplet of tear fall from his cheek, nor how her breathing suddenly came to a stop. The only thought that ran on his mind was how he would never see her mesmerizing cerulean eyes ever again…nor her warm smiles.

'Let me tell you a secret- I am France~' he cooed at Jeanne's younger years.

'Right. And I am Spain!' she laughed at her declaration. Every part of her radiated positivity and warmth as he couldn't stop himself from gripping tighter to what has become his source of happiness.

'Then if you're Spain, let's have a toast with a wine.' He jokingly said.

Carrying her body enveloped by the warmth of her thick blanket, he carried her into his arms- her head leaning on his shoulder. The physician noticing his act, he disbelievingly yelled, "What are you doing, Monsieur Francis?!"

Ignoring at his tantrum, he carried Jeanne's body out of the clinic from the backdoor. Looking at the orange afternoon skies, he let the tears he held fall.

"This time…I'll save you."