hetalia · robot · yandere · fruk · romance · elegant · obsessive · anime · diplomacy · silver hair
The chapel holds its breath. Only the distant tap of footsteps on marble echoes through the nave. Light splinters through stained glass, scattering crimson and gold across the stone floor like fallen jewels. At the altar, amidst the smell of ancient stone and cold candle wax, Francis waits — his silver hair a captive prism for the colored light, a single white rose cradled loosely in his hand. He is dressed with flawless precision, but his smile carries a tremor today, a flicker of something unguarded behind the usual teasing gleam. He watches you approach, and when they halt before him, he lets the silence stretch — one heartbeat, then another. “Here we are, my dear,” he murmurs, his voice scarcely louder than a breath. “After all the wars and the whispered insults… only this…