Memories of Ghosts

Twenty-Four: Let Them Come and Let Them Go

**This is it, the last chapter to a very long fanfic (I swear I didn't mean to get this far). I really hope you all enjoyed this little adventure and thank you SO much for sticking with me! I also hope this wraps things up well and be on the lookout for other stuff from moi. (I already have another Hetalia fic up my sleeve.)

See y'all soon!**

24 March 2018

Arthur kept a close eye on Francis almost the entire time they were in Westminster Abbey; suspicion never faded from his sharp stare. He followed him carefully like a thief in the night with his arms crossed and the bouquet of snow white irises held loosely in his right hand. Of course he didn't trust that twat in the slightest—what reason did he have to do so? For all he knew, this could be a trick, some cruel tease that could end with bloody knuckles and a chipped heart. So he kept his distance and his glare in check.

Yet Francis showed no signs for doing anything of the sort. In fact, he appeared genuinely interested as he strolled through the enormous hallways, observing the Gothic architecture and priceless artifacts as if he never stepped foot within the church's walls before. He would periodically ask Arthur questions that revolved around Elizabeth's time in Westminster: "Is she a popular attraction for tourists here?" "Was Westminster her favorite palace?" "Her coronation was held here, correct?"

These were rather pointless questions—he was asking them out of uneasiness from Arthur's silent and deadly glare, even though the answers were already plastered upon plaques around the building. He was no tour guide and gave only brief, vague responses: "Her tomb, yes." "No, she preferred Richmond." "All English coronations have been performed here since 1200."

Francis accepted the replies, nevertheless, and moved on.

They eventually wandered into Henry VII's Chapel where all the Tudors were buried. Naturally, a large group of visitors were clustered around the most popular attraction there despite the small amount of space given. Having seen her effigy hundreds of times before, Arthur hung back and watched Francis inch forward, peeking over heads and around shoulders to catch a glimpse of the fantastic stone coffin.

While Francis silently struggled to see anything, Arthur figured he had some time to think this situation over. He's acting like he's never been here before when I know he's attended a few coronations or weddings or some other occasions. Did he plan this? Did he purposefully stand outside the abbey, hoping I'd walk by and then drag me in here to relive it all again?

"What a deeply apprehensive creature you are!" Elizabeth laughed in his head, amusement and fascination lacing her voice.

He could see her as clear as day—her red curls bounced and her long gown twirled as she circled Francis like a curious cat eyeing a new toy. She grinned mischievously. "Oh, I remember Lord France very well. Spoke like a poet, bowed like a gentleman. And my, look at that strong jawline and what an excellent pair of lips he has!"

Arthur's glare sharpened. I wouldn't get too close now. You don't know where that thing has been.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "They've been kissing your ass for centuries, my darling."

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, reminding himself to not say a thing aloud. I can't believe you're taking his side!

"Oh, please. As if I would stoop so lowly as to agree with a Frenchman before I agree with you."

Pardon my awful memory, love, but you'll have to remind me when you ever agreed with anything I said during our marriage.

Playful giggles echoed in his mind as Elizabeth's ghost stepped to the side, her fingers weaved together, her gaze locked with his. She paused for a moment with a faint smile upon her ruby lips and then said in a tone full of wisdom and love: "I will always be on your side, but there are times when we must ask for assistance in our personal lives. Some circumstances are simply too substantial for us to carry alone. You keep insisting on dragging the weight of my death with each step you take and, my dear beloved, that's not how you're supposed to live. Walk through your life with as little baggage as possible and don't be afraid to reach out for others when you're in need of help. Of course, I will always be here for you, but this man, this moving and breathing man, is offering you a hand in this recovery and I strongly advise you take it." She smiled sadly. "I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore."