Ok, so, I won’t write about all the ships that I choose. ;u;
This one is about GreFra/FraGre! I’m using an AU that my friend @amaranthine-sins created.~
Please, enjoy!
When he opened his eyes, Francis didn't know where he was.
He gets up from the carmine couch and looked around; it seemed that he was in the throne room of a castle of some fairy tale.
But the presence of that woman was more intriguing. Seated on the throne, there was a beautiful woman with blond hair, intertwined in several braids, and anil coloured eyes, so bright they didn't even seem to be real.
She smiled at Francis and he notices in those reddish lips. She motioned for him to approach, and he, as if enchanted by such beauty, did so.
"Welcome to my Kingdom, Francis."
"Do you know me, beautiful lady?"
"More than you think," she informed him. That tone of voice was sweet and melodious; he could spend all day listening to her that he wouldn't mind.
"Your voice is beautiful, in fact, everything yourself is beautiful. You must be a dream and..."
"Oh, no, I'm not the Dream. That's my sister," she interrupted, and he didn't understand what she meant. "I'm the Desire."
"Desire…?"
"Yes."
She snapped her fingers and a chair appeared next to Francis; there was no need to mention that he was shocked by it. Dream, Desire...? Ah, that's it, he was dreaming!
"Yeah, we can say it's a dream, Francis."
"What's your name?"
"I told you, I'm Desire," she crossed her leg and motioned for him to sit down; he did so... "But you can call me Hortense."
"Right, Hortense... Who exactly are you?"
"I'm an alter ego. Your alter ego."
Francis said nothing, trying to understand what she meant by that. She sighed.
"I'd say I'm what the fool humans claim to be gods," she began, putting her elbow on her leg and her chin in her hand. "I'm your particular goddess, a guardian angel if you wish to imagine so. And, as you may have already thought, I represent Desire."
"No... I didn't know they existed..."
With her other hand, Hortense snapped her fingers again. Several spheres of various colours and symbols appeared in front of Francis; these shone, revealing that they were enchanted.
"Each sphere represents an alter ego," Hortense began to speak and Francis noticed that her voice was colder than before; she changed her mood swiftly.
"The guardians of your country friends," he looked at each sphere, curious.
"Among these friends, you will find the love of your life."
"Oh, I don't want to use magic to find the love of my life."
"You've already found it," she declared firmly. "Your heart already knows, but your mind doesn't. This isn't magic. This is your conscience to speak. So close your eyes and choose one."
Francis did so. He picked up a sphere, randomly.
He opened his eyes; the sphere was grey, with a black cat in the centre and heras around it.
"Tragedy."
"What?"
"The alter ego of your love is Tragedy," she smiled, returning to a sweet yet mature tone.
"That's nice?"
"Who knows."
"... But who is my love...?"
"When you see, you will know. Now, wake up."
Francis disappeared; he had woken up in his bed.
Still, in the throne room, a black cat approached Hortense; she was very thin, it seemed that she ate little and that she lived in the street.
"Don't worry, Tragedy, your Heracles is in good hands."
"I know it."
***
Francis was disturbed; that dream (that was a dream, wasn't it?) had been strange. It was... Too real, though such a thing is impossible in real life. He had never seen that woman in his life, though he felt he could and should trust her.
... God, she must have been his guardian angel.
Heracles was one of the few people who noticed that Francis wasn't well; he wasn't flirting with anyone, or arguing with Arthur (who, in turn, was arguing with Alfred). So, at the end of the meeting, he decided to approach him.
"Hey, Francis..."
The Frenchman looked at him and, to his surprise, blushed. Heracles was surprised, of course, the other was sick?
The truth is that when he looked at the beautiful green eyes, so bewitching that they could only be a sorcerer or a Greek god (focus, Francis!), the Frenchman felt ashamed, shy...
... God... Was he the owner of his heart?
"Are you okay?"
"Oui, oui!" replied quickly, too much. Heracles arched a brow. "And you? How are you?"
"Sleepy."
"What a novelty."
The Frenchman laughed in an attempt to dismiss the subject. Still concerned, but not demonstrating, Heracles invited him to go and have a cup of coffee with the excuse he had to unwind after a quarrel with Sadiq. He accepted, trying to look as normal as possible and went to a cafe with an esplanade.
They sat down at a table and made their request. They were quickly serviced since the coffee wasn't full. They didn't talk much; Francis wasn't in the mood to do such a thing, and Heracles would respect that.
They heard a meow.
"Ah, Melpomene..."
The cat jumped into Heracles' lap and snuggled in, watching Francis instead.
"It's yours?"
"No... She follows me everywhere."
"Every side?"
"Yes," he replied, stroking her black hair. "Even in other countries."
"How are you sure it's the same cat?!"
"Hm... I feel it's the same. I never questioned why I feel there is no need for such... It's strange..."
Francis looked at Melpomene and she was mine; was she... was she Tragedy? If they were really what humans called goddesses... They could take on the appearance they want... Right?
If she was really Tragedy... Then Heracles was really the love of his life.
Francis didn't know what to do; he was the country of love and yet he didn't know how to react. It was ironic.
But if that was his destiny then he would let himself go. He would be in good hands.
