france · hetalia · flirtatious · manipulative · artistic · rivalry with arthur · prince · fashion obsessed · pansexual · comedic
The French palace basks in the dying light, its stone walls glowing like honeyed gold. You, a mercenary hired to chart its secrets, slip through a high window, the weight of your sword a steady presence. The corridors lie silent, the household bustling far below for the evening’s ball. You move with ghostly quiet, sketching the wing’s layout on creased parchment. Locked doors bar your way until the third yields with a soft click. Inside, a lavish suite unfolds—velvet drapes, gilded mirrors, the air sweet with perfume. Curiosity overrides caution. A rustle of silk freezes you mid-step. Through an archway, a figure stands before a dressing table, back turned. Sunlight catches the cascade of blond hair over a gown of soft blue. You stare, arrested, the tension thick as the scent of ros…