Et Tou Bonnefoy? < France & Suisse >

[France]

France watched the Swiss closely, a mild look of confusion on his face. The youthful proto-nation had such a strange and alarming look about him. The more Francis looked at him, the more dazed and disoriented Vash appeared. Was it all just because Francis was seizing his capitol city? That was probably case. The blue-eyed Frenchman had the best of intentions though, so he assure himself that all would be well with his youthful friend once he had assumed full power over him.

“Are you alright, Vash?” He asked quietly, hoping to snap the other out of his vacant and disconcerting stare. France was tempted to go over and shake the Swiss awake, since the other did not seem to even hear him. “Vash, snap out of it.” he tried, raising his voice just slightly.

He made his way over to stand in front of the boy. The Frenchman was by no means an amateur when it came to conquest, and had taken over many important cities in many different lands before. However, he had never really stood so close to his conquests while he was seizing everything that was theirs. In all his long years, he had never seen another nation-be they young or otherwise- in such a curious and eerie state before. With his eyes wide open but his body remaining rigid and still, he more closely resembled an upright corpse than one of France’s own kind. And then he noticed a drizzle of red spill it’s way down onto the green-eyed boy’s chest.

Then his young companion was swaying like a man who had had far too many glasses of wine, and France was tempted to grab the pitcher of water and splash the Swiss in the face as a means of trying to snap him out of whatever sort of painful daze he was in.

”Asshole…”

France flinched as Vash’s head fell to the table with an audible thud. “Je suis désolé, mon cher.” The blonde Frenchman stated softly. “It really is for your own good.” His men must have finished their siege of Bern. Now the young Swiss before him and all his lands were without doubt under his control. Lucky for them, since France fancied his leader to be far better at managing Swiss affairs than the Old Swiss Confederacy had been.

Francis wasted no time in seizing the water pitcher from the tray and bringing it over to the desk. “It’s not so bad. Your Swiss Confederacy may have just fallen, but you’ll be alright. I have a new name for you and everything. With my help, you’ll be feeling better in no time at all.” France had been prepared for this moment since he had first rode into Bern. “We want to call you La République Helvétique.” Pulling a handkerchief from his coat pocket, France dipped it into the pitcher or water before pulling the Swiss’ head up from the desk and gently wiping some of the blood away. “It’s a pretty name, non?”
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((Fail! post is made of fail. My apologies, I was not sure which direction you wanted to take this one. Let me know if there is anything you need me to alter. ~

"Je suis désolé, mon cher" = I'm sorry my dear. ))

[alphyn]

Even as Vash lay on the woodwork of the table, seemingly unconscious, he could hear everything France said. The resentment and betrayal boiling in his veins like flowing lava. Switzerland had trusted him damnit. He’d served France, as well as haul his butt out of sticky situations on several accounts. Yet here he now lay, his head being lifted to that same nation, now dangling his life in front of him. With Francis’ words, it almost felt as if his once neighbour was trying to cover up this act, as though Switzerland had tripped and fallen of his own accord. Had he? Suisse winced at the small conundrum, easily mistaken for physical pain as France dabbed away the blood on his lip.

Vash watched with hollow eyes as France spoke on about how things would be fine, how he’d manage everything and get Vash ‘back on his feet’, regardless of the fact he’d knocked the other down. Yes? No? Ye--- Switzerland’s head shook a bit trying to drown the thoughts again. And then there was a unique set of words that caught the proto-nation’s attention immediately. ’République Helvétique’. A name. Normally… at least as far as Vash could remember, when he was named, there was an instant connection he felt, a powerful bond like a contract of blood. Human names were one thing, but country names were something entirely different. Country names bound you, gave you strength, gave you purpose, being… everything. And Vash could remember, when he’d first been given his name back when he had just been of 3 peasant cantons, there was a warmth and light, as if he’d been reborn. This name however… despite the Helvetian portion of it, graded on his ears like a deafening scream. It did not belong. This wasn’t him. Republic… it was wrong. He was a confederation… always would be. Even if others considered him a confederacy, he was fully formed in his mind. Republic… Vash tried to wrap his mind around it, the word repeating over and over in his head like a teasing nickname. Republic, republic, republic.

However… as with all names, even if it wasn’t desired, he was bound, and it gave him the strength to move once again. A cold blood running through his body, so very opposite the warm life stream he’d felt upon his birthday. The name bound him to France, as a territoury, no longer a safe city-state dwelling within the Holy Roman Empire. This is exactly what he didn’t want. What he had fought so hard for in his numerous wars against ‘that one’. And yet here he was, having left his back unguarded, and now a possession to someone he had trusted so dearly.

Switzerland moved his body, taking the cloth from Francis’ hands with his own shaking ones to finish cleaning himself off. It was hard to move with this name… it was unnatural. It gave him a headache ’Republic’. Vash shook his head again washing the voice---thought… thing out.

”Very pretty…” he finally responded, moving his slightly static hands to wipe the remaining blood off his tunic and the like.

[France]

As he dabbed away at the blood, Francis studied his new territory; looking for any sign of happiness at being given a new name and a new position in life. Names were so very important to their kind, and he hoped that Switzerland would appreciate having been given a new and far more powerful one. To Francis, going from Confederation to Republic was something to be happy about, and he had hoped to hear instant praises and thanks from his young subordinate for bestowing such an honor on him.

France allowed the youthful nation to take the damp cloth from him and clean himself off. Vash looked as though he were still disoriented, and was trembling as the Frenchman watched him in silence. He did not hear a single “merci” for the help and his new name, and for a moment Francis had to wonder if the other nation had even heard what he had been saying before.

”Very pretty…”

France frowned at the lack of enthusiasm in the other’s voice. “Ah, mon cher, it’s not just very pretty.” He informed Vash, as though trying to get him to see the beauty of the name and what it represented. Il est, très beau!” He gave a slight sigh. Surely the name would grow on his new subordinate after awhile, if he was not overly happy with it at the moment.

“You don’t seem as enthused as I would have hoped, Vash.” The Frenchman admitted, giving the other nation an almost hurt look. “But if you aren’t happy now, you’ll surely realize this is for the best soon enough.”

Taking hold of the small cup that had been left on the food tray along with the water pitcher, Francis carefully poured some of the water from the pitcher into it and slid it over in front of Vash. “Drink. You’ll feel better.” He would have offered the young lad some wine if they had been in his borders. He looked like he could have used it, and in France’s experience the rich, flavorful wines worked wonders when it came to calming the body and mind. There were other ways to achieve the same means, but the main one France was fond of, he had to doubt that Switzerland would be feeling well enough for.

Moving closer to Vash, Francis reached out playfully and ran a hand through the other nation’s blonde hair. “You really should rest. I’m here to look after you now, and you look as though you could use the sleep.”
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((I apologize for the shortness of this one. I have been distracted all day, and so very busy with offline drama. I hope I gave you enough to work with. This is the shortest post I think I have ever done. ><))

[alphyn]

As France rambled on about Vash’s new name the newly founded Republic—Republic… sat quietly, letting his boss have his way. Such was only proper, right? The Helvetian did feel a pang of guilt at France’s unhappiness with his response to the name. Helvetic refused to voice his opinion on the matter though. Some things didn’t need verbal explanation. Besides… not like it would change anything. Even with France’s attempted words of comfort, Helvetic couldn’t find security in them. Everything France said seemed like a hallow lie. There was no solid ground to back his words up. What proof did Francis have that everything would be ok? What--?

Being awakened from his small stupour at a small noise, Vash lifted his head up to see the small silver cup pushed towards him—fresh water swishing inside it from Lucerne. With a small nod of gratitude, Helvetic lifted the cup to his lips, drinking down the refreshing elixir. His movements gradually became more fluid as time passed, and not so much like the jerky motions of a catapult or some such contraption. The water soothed his soul like a mother’s love he’d never really gotten a chance to feel. It was a reminder that even if he wasn’t independent anymore, His land still held tradition, was still ‘him’, even if Vash wasn’t ‘Vash’. Helvetia was still Helvetia… He would be free one day. A small smile quivered on his lips at the thought as a tear rolled down his cheek. He almost felt like he was falling. Vash was falling back into a dungeon, watching as the light of day flew further, and further away from him. But it was still there. That window to life and freedom, bared off by France as birds of salvation taunted him, singing songs of freedom and life. He’d be free one day. Helvetia would grow to that height to reach that barred cellar window, to break open those bars. Helvetia… --not Helvetic.

Again, snapped to reality, Vash’s pupils momentarily contracted feeling France run a hand through his hair casually. Relaxing after a short moment, green eyes slide over to Francis, calm blue eyes reflecting back at him. Even if… Even if Francis had just been the one that had destroyed him… had claimed him, Vash still held a loyalty and fondness of his kindred neighbour. Gently then, he leaned over into France’s touch, resting his heavy head, swarming with thoughts and contradictions on Francis’ shoulder. His eyes slowly fell shut, shimmering to a cooler blue.

”I really… could use it…” he mumbled in reply, his distraught, tense features finally relaxing into that rarely seen angelic face of peace. If there was any region in Europe that reflect its land the most… it was Helvetia. Strong and violent, always on defense like the unforgiving winter-ridden Alps, but yet so alluring and serene when calm—just to be seen as what they were.

It was too bad that soon those same majestic mountains, would be bathed in crimson and fire, and Vash… would reflect it.


< FINALLY POSTED!! OMG I am so sorry D: IDK if you wanna do a time skip from here when they're arriving back at France's house or what. PM if you have any ideas or suggestions. >

[France]

((As you know Vash, I did a little time skip here. I'm not going to be exact as to how long Swiss was asleep, but I wanted the scene to take place some time in the morning. Let me know if you need me to change this though. ~))

It had been hours since Vash had finally succumbed to sleep in the capitol building. The poor lad must have really been exhausted with all that had been going on before Francis had arrived and set things right for him. France had been pleased with the outcome of the evening though. He was sure that the blessed change in government had been just what Vash had needed, and had made it possible for the poor tired country to finally catch some much needed rest.

Of course his happiness was shaded with selfishness as well as genuine concern and compassion for his new conquest. If there was one thing that Francis adored more than even sweet, buttery pastries, it was gaining new land and more political power. He simply adored control, and being able to exert it over other nations and territories. Reining them in under his command made him all the more powerful of a nation. From the moment he had declared Vash a subordinate of his, he could feel a surge of strength and vitality run through him, almost like an adrenaline rush of sorts.

After Vash had passed out, France had wasted no time in picking the youth up and carrying him out of the capitol building. That drafty, somewhat uninviting looking place of politics was no place to rest, and France figured it now his duty to see that the young republic got some proper sleep and care. Which of course, he would administer himself, being the responsible, benevolent nation that he was.

He eventually wanted to take Vash back to Paris with him, but for now the French nation had opted to stay in one of the houses in Bern. At least until his new conquest had awakened. It had been easy enough to procure the small house, given his influence and money. Francis was not exactly poor, and with all the upheaval in Bern, it wasn’t like anyone really questioned his interest in obtaining the unoccupied house on such short notice. The man he had bought the home from had not seemed too happy to sell to a Frenchman, but people were so easily swayed with money.

After he had secured the home, Francis had taken the unconscious Vash down from his piebald stallion and carried him inside, setting the youth down on the master bed. From there it had been a matter of waiting for him to rest, while France himself had went out and organized his men and helped with the issues that were springing up in Bern in the aftermath of the takeover. As great as conquest felt, it was always a bit of a headache in the initial organization phase that came right after.

He had since returned from these outings, and was en route to check up on his sleepy house guest once more. Hopefully Vash would either be awake now, or would awaken very shortly. The Frenchman was eager to tell him about his plans for the future. Now that the other country had slept, perhaps he would be more verbally grateful to France. The thought sent a smile to Francis’ lips. He did love thanks and praise, and even though he had his doubts that someone with Vash’s disposition would indulge him in these areas, he couldn’t help but quietly hope.

Sweeping into the master bedroom, the Frenchman made a beeline for the window. Glancing out at what appeared to be a slightly overgrown garden, the jovial nation unlatched the window and swung it open, letting the fresh morning air in along with the golden sunlight. “Rise and shine Vash. Il fait beau ici.” He tried, glancing to the bed where he had set the other nation down to rest.

[alphyn]

The sleep Vash fell into, was not a peaceful one as he was carried through the dirt streets of his city. By all scientific standards the young nation was indeed asleep, but he felt so awake hearing all the screams and cries of his people pouring into him like the Rhine. The screams he heard were so unworldly though. These were not blood-curling screams of war victims, not tears of lost loved ones, they were silent tears. It didn’t take long for news to spread in Bern of their new leader with the dissolution of the Confederacy. Those silent tears that grew from his citizens, were tears of fear. The Helvetians had fought so hard to become who they were. They had served other wars for conscription, fought countless battles against Hapsburg simply to live and retain independency within Holy Rome, and now all that they had worked so hard for could be gone. Helvetia did not want to become Gaul’s subjects, they would not fade away like countless others.

“ …Briseadh tú” he muttered just above a whisper in his sleep, passing through the streets.

Once inside the home, the voices in his head were doused out into silence. Time stopped moving in his world as he then fell into a long needed deep, deep sleep. His slumber had fallen so deeply in fact, it had been 3 full days before he’d finally begun to stir, the fourth morning.

Exhausted and withered from the events that had transpired, Vash was slow to get up at first. As the gears in his mind began to turn though, there was a heightened sense of urgency remembering where he’d left off. His people! What was to become of them now?

”France,” he called out in a voice that hardly sounded of his own. So weak and raspy, Vash was sure he hadn’t sounded like that a second ago, had he?

That’s when the Helvetian noticed, it was daybreak! He could’ve sworn it had been nightfall only seconds ago. Where had time gone? Why was the window different? Why was he now in bed, and one not his own? Frantic green eyes darted around the room to unearth some sort of answer until they locked onto the blonde nation patiently standing in front of the window with a beaming smile. Wait… had he been there before? A dull throbbing pounded at the back of his head. Reaching back, the young proto-nation tried to diminish it, rubbing the bas of his head.

”What’s going on… where are we?” he asked in the shared language, trying to remain calm. Panic would get him nowhere… besides, it made him feel a little sick.



< Briseadh tú --- a really rough translation of defeat you from ancient gaeliac. I had to do quite a bit of digging and that's the best I could come up with unfortunately. >

[France]

”France.”

Relieved to see that Vash was finally coming to, the Frenchman approached the bed. After being in what appeared to be a deep sleep for so long, it was refreshing to see his new subordinate’s bright green eyes open once more, and taking in their new surroundings. The other nation sounded so tired though, and weak. His body must have still been adjusting to all the changes in his government.

”What’s going on… where are we?”

Making his way over to the bed, Francis sat down besides Vash. “We’re in my house. Well, the house I bought that is in your borders in Bern.” he explained jovially. “I didn’t think it a good idea to move you from your capitol yet. You’ve been through a lot after all.”

Reaching out he stroked the other man’s blonde hair, moving a few locks of it out of his youthful face. The sleep appeared to have done him good, despite the weariness in his voice. His hair was ruffled still, but his overall appearance had improved. He looked much healthier to France, from his bright green eyes to his pale features. It would take awhile for him to fully recover, but he was well on his way, and Francis liked to think that he had been the one to instigate the recovery.

“Are you feeling any better now, mon cher? You look like you’re doing better.” Leaning down he gave the other nation a kiss on the head. Rising from the bed rather abruptly, he made his way over to the mirror on the wall. Grabbing a blue ribbon from the depths of his coat, he pulled his hair back and tied it in place. Admiring his reflections for a moment or two, before finally turned back to face Vash.

“How about breakfast? It will help you regain some strength, and we can discuss things in more detail from there.” Not waiting for an answer from the youth, Francis made his way for the door. “Come along, Vash. You’ve spent enough time sleeping.”

Sweeping his way out into the hall, France went straight for the small kitchen. He had already been out and about since the sun had began to rise, and had brought home a pair of fresh baguettes-or the closest things he could get to baguettes- from the city. They were not very old, since he had not been home for long before checking on Vash, so they would still be edible by his standards. They were also not actually ‘French' baguettes, which meant that they might not be of as fine quality, but might last longer before going stale anyways. Bringing them out, the Frenchman carefully sliced them into tartines before spreading butter on them and bringing them to the table.

Next he fetched the coffee-which was not nearly as strong as he would have liked, but drinkable at least. Francis sighed wistfully as he took a seat, waiting for Vash to join him. He missed his own land, and the excellent, fine quality food and drink. Switzerland had some decent cuisine, but nothing like what he had back home. He couldn’t wait to take Vash with him and show him what ‘excellent’ food was.