#engbelgweek2018

Although she wouldn’t exactly describe England as a natural with phone technology, so inclined to grumble about people having their eyes glued to their screens and not minding where they’re going as he was, with some gentle persuasion he would nevertheless take part in video calling her, and at times even send unprompted pictures. It made her glad, because it helped to make the distance not feel as remote as it once did, especially in comparison to the many (many) moons ago when they first began to miss each other in that telling, heart aching way. Back then waiting for just a letter seemed like an age, let alone the next time they would see each other’s face.

But even with this instant technology, distance it still was, and screens paled in comparison to reuniting in person. It just couldn’t match physically being present together to embrace, to feel the warmth of his touch, and as cliché or corny it may be, what she loved most about seeing him again was the first kiss they shared. It didn’t matter if it was brief, nor did their countless kisses throughout the years make any difference; that first moment his lips touched hers always sent a warming melt right over her heart, thoughts faltering for a moment as their breaths mingled together.

She'd believed the feeling was mutual, England having mumbled something to that effect once in a softer moment. Naturally she’d teased him about being a romantic under all his gruff exterior, but it touched her to know that really. Until now at least. For apparently either she’d been wrong or he’d changed his mind, because those raised eyebrows of his as she pulled back from their kiss seemed to signal, though she could hardly believe it, a complaint.

Now granted, it hadn’t been the original plan for her to greet him at the station, but she’d managed to get a bunch of work done and shift a meeting around so that she had the afternoon free to meet him after all. It would be worth the extra work effort she figured, to see the frown and tense jaw that inevitably furrowed their way into his features when travelling lift when he saw her standing there. So worth it in fact that that she could hardly contain her excitement when she felt him cross into her country, heading to the station with a spring in her step, ready to hone in on her instinct to sense exactly where he would in the crowds of people exiting.

She positioned herself in his line of sight, and indeed as he spotted her his expression smoothed out instantly as he let out a mixture of a laugh and exhale of surprise. She grinned and hurried forward to meet him, wrapping her arms around his waist and sighing happily as his own arms brought her closer still. arms.

“Hello,” she said as softly as she could to still be heard above the hubbub around them, tilting her head upwards from his chest to help.

"Hello to you too," he replied, just before she pulled back and leaned up on her toes to press a short but sweet kiss to his lips, her eyes fluttering shut as the familiar glow of happiness hummed through her. Yet when she pulled away, mindful of causing too much of a scene for his sake, she was not greeted with a similar expression but those bemused raised brows.

“Hey, what’s that look for?” she quizzed, putting a hand on her hip as she frowned slightly.

“Oh, nothing much, I’m just a bit surprised I suppose," though she noted there was more of a playful smile twitching at his lips than any actual surprise, “that seemed rather…chaste, given that you’ve made the effort to come all this way.”

The cheek of him! She nearly scoffed, wondering just why she loved this man who was capable of winding her up so.

“Excuse me? Are you complaining about being kissed?!” she responded as indignantly as possible, but knowing there was amusement glittering in her eyes giving her away.

“That’s not exactly what I meant-“

“Well it certainly sounds like it."

“I am only stating that the length of said kiss-“

“No no, there’s no changing what you said now, I’ve heard enough!" Not that he seemed to worry too much, judging by the way he could barely keep a smirk from sneaking out. "My kisses clearly aren’t good enough for you - even though you’re the one,” and she jabbed him in the chest for emphasis, “who moans about PDA usually, and seems to have changed his tune out of nowhere.”

He tutted. “Only when it’s unreasonable and excessive.”

She harrumphed, unconvinced, but unable to recall exact evidence on the spot. “You can be such a fussy man, you know.”

He just laughed. “It's part of being so old, don’t you know.”

“Well I’ve lived long enough to be demanding too then, and I say that as I’m hurt at your criticism – oh fine,” she relented as he started to protest again, “your ‘observation’, you're going to have to really earn a second kiss now.”

He sighed with the overdramatic despair of someone facing a great injustice. “Oh dear. How about I start with,” and after he thought for a second, the smirk flattened away, “I missed you. You know I always do, but I truly mean it. And in my head I’d been planning to scoop you up as soon as you came into the room, and spin you around before sweeping you into the most wonderful kiss.”

Okay, perhaps he hadn’t changed that much after all; he really was a romantic at heart.

“You still could have done that here,” she pouted, not about to let him off that easily, “surely it’s ok to be lovingly sweet in public once in a while.”

“I know, I know. You just caught me by surprise, and I didn’t think fast enough before you were already over to me, plus there isn’t quite enough space…” and with that they both realised they were standing quite in the way of other people. England took hold of his small suitcase’s handle and wheeled it along as they started to walk away.

“Well, I guess that wasn’t a bad start you’ve made,” she mulled out loud, her tone casual, “if you keep up like that, by the time we reach my house I might just find it in myself to forgive you.”

“Please allow me to guide you around the palace. And the gardens, the roses are at their most beautiful around this time.”

“I would love that. My last visit feels so long ago.”

Their conversation felt very rehearsed, but at least it was civil. That would please his mother. Unlike other occasions in the past.

 “Why don’t you show princess Emma around, Arthur? You can show her some of your favourite places to play.” His mother had said.

Not that young Arthur had any intentions of sharing his best hiding spots with a girl.

“My Emma would love that.” His mother’s dear friend said enthusiastically.

Little Emma didn’t look as happy as her mother did.

As their mothers gently pushed to two children toward each other, they began walking down the hall.

Before they reached the end, they were rolling on the ground trying to hit the other.

One of his older brothers saw and yelled to their mother what Arthur was doing.

Both of them got a good lecture that day. Arthur for hitting a girl, his fiancé, at that. His brother for yelling inside the palace. Unbecoming of princes.

Princess Emma and her mother left suddenly.

Good.

At some point, after wandering through the gardens for a while, Arthur asked Emma if she would like to try the bow and arrow.

“I can show you.” The green eyed man told her, getting ready to help the lady position her bow.

“It is very kind of you Arthur, but I can  manage.”

She pulled out an arrow, placed it on the bow and took a moment to aim.

Then shot right into the center.

Well, that left the blond prince baffled.

She hadn’t always been that good, had she?

 Having been forced by his mother into entertaining the foreign princess, he had taken her to the gardens to shoot the bow and arrow.

At least they would be doing something Arthur liked to do and this day wouldn’t be entirely wasted. There were prettier girls in the town he could be talking to.

Of course, the princess had to be difficult about it. Saying she didn’t want to do that and would rather play some kind of game.

He didn’t remember which one, he had pretty much tuned her out and continued towards the part of the gardens where he knew everything would be set up already.

Soon after, he learned why the girl had been whining about the activity.

She was absolutely lousy at it.

Arthur couldn’t stop laughing at her when she pulled at the string, let go and the arrow fell straight down.

Arthur wondered when to frog would run out of air from laughing and just pass out.

As rehearsed as most of their conversation had been, he probably would have to thank Francis for the parts that were more spontaneous, so was their schedule.

“See you very soon.” Emma told him quietly, as she left to prepare for the ball.

He didn’t respond at first, but as she began to walk away the frog put his elbow in his side once again.

“Say something.” A short pause. “Something good, lapin.”

“I hope I can have the first dance at the ball.” Arthur called after her.

 No childhood memories for the first time that day. They had never danced together before. Their mothers hadn’t made them and of course Arthur hadn’t ever asked the younger girl for a dance.

 The blonde turned around so fast that her dress twirled around her legs.

And she smiled.

Arthur liked that smile, it was pretty, and maybe he could get used to seeing it more often.

Then she uttered one single word.

“Oui.”

 She spoke French.