Chapter Text
“Francis? Are you there?” Loud footsteps outside of the door. “What happened to the mirror?”
The door swung open.
England’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of her, lying between heaps of discarded dresses and stockings, her hair tangled, face wet with tears and smeared makeup. She cringed and pulled the blanket over her face, not wanting him to see her like that, and not wanting to see his reaction to her miserable state. She’d always had a tendency for overreacting, and the last thing she wanted was for England to think that she was making a scene-
“Marianne,” England said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
Footsteps again, moving towards her. Then the mattress squeaked and she felt his weight settling down next to her.
“What happened?”
France’s chest heaved with another sob, and she fought to hold it back. “Nothing- I just can’t...” She stuttered to a stop. It was always so hard to talk about that, even with England. The words felt stuck in her throat.
“You can tell me,” he said patiently. “You know I don’t mind.”
“I can’t pass.” She screwed her eyes shut, forcing the words out. “It was so easy when I was younger. And now…” her voice faltered. “I don’t usually mind the way I look, you know. But when I’m feeling this way… It just doesn’t fit.”
There was a moment of frightening silence.
“I know it feels hard,” England said at last. “But I think you’re pretty good at it. I think you pass perfectly.”
“Oh, please.” She shook her head, the blanket shifting from side to side with her movements. “Just look at me.”
“Well, I would love to,” he says with a hint of a smile in his voice, “but all I’m seeing is a bundle of blankets.”
That startled a laugh out of her, which immediately turned into a sob. She pulled the blanket down just enough to carefully peek at England.
He reached a hand and run it through her hair, then wiped her cheek with his thumb. “I remember when I first saw you,” he said out of nowhere, his tone distant. “Picking flowers in that white dress. I thought you were a girl. When you told me you weren’t, I thought I’d been mistaken.” He smiled at her. “Turns out I was right all along.”
France smiled back despite herself. “Not completely.”
“Well, you were a girl at that moment.” He pauses. “The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
Her smile grew a little embarrassed, and a hint of pink appeared in her cheeks. She rolled her eyes.
“I mean it.” England looks at her very seriously. “I remember how I felt... I almost couldn’t believe you were real. I feel the same way when I look at you now. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, Marianne.”
France opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. She could tell that he meant it. In England’s eyes, she saw herself the way he did, the way she’d dreamed of being seen.
The way he looked at her made her feel real.
She put her arms around him and pulled him down to her side, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. “Thanks, Arthur. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I’m sorry about the mirror…”
“It’s ok.” He grinned. “I guess I’ll just have to do your makeup from now on.”
She laughed again, much more cheerfully now. “And my hair too?”
“Sure.”
“That would be something.”