ANOTHER fic from me. I need serious help.

This one is France/Jeanne d' Arc. And unlike most, it doesn't start with her death. It starts with her after-life. ^^ I wanted to do something a little different. So, I hope you enjoy!


In this world, there are mortals and immortals. Naturally, the mortals die and the immortals do not. Immortals would be the countries, the ones who represent the body of land people occupy. They cannot die unless their land is completely gone and none of their people remain. Unlike the countries, their people can and will die, often unfairly and without reason. This is why immortals and mortals should never interact on a friendly bases. It will only end in heart break.

However, the so-called nation of love could not and would not listen to the most important unwritten rule. He met a mortal, fell in love with her, and when she died, he was heartbroken beyond belief. Her name was Jeanne.

Jeanne was a woman who could see and hear me. I gave her instructions and helped her to become a strong woman who would help lead France to victory in the Hundred Years War. Because, let's face it, England was a bully and sometimes the underdogs need to come out on top. However, she had such a devout belief in me, she refused to let France into her heart in any romantic way. She kept her feelings hidden even though I know she wanted to be with him. She was strong, though, and kept me above anyone else. She died when she was nineteen, a happy woman who had served me and her country well.

Yup, I'm the holy, divine being you pray to (or don't pray to) every night. And yes, I know what you did yesterday. You're forgiven, just don't do it again. It's way too much paperwork to deal with when you go and so something stupid.

I've had a lot of things to deal with and hey, I still do. I mean, being a divine being isn't all that easy. You've got your bad people and your good people, but there are so many who are in between. It's hard to place them!

Anyway, I see Jeanne everyday looking over France, making sure he's safe and happy. When he's not, she's upset. When he is, she's happy. She doesn't need to put up a wall up here. She doesn't need to be strong like she had to be on Earth. She still tries, though, and it breaks my holy heart to see her upset and trying to hide it.

So, you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to bring her back. Yup, I'm going to bring her back from the dead and give her another chance at a happy, love filled life. I think she deserves it, don't you? So, I guess you could call this the story of how Jeanne found a better life. Personally, I like to call it Holy Divine Being: 1 Satan: 0. Because I'd like to see him bring someone back from the dead.


It was a normal day for Francis Bonnefoy, the personification of the nation of France. He had gone into the city to meet with his boss over a glass of wine and some cheese before having a nice lunch at a small bistro. He then went back to his office and did some paperwork before packing up and heading home. He stopped and got some groceries so he could make a nice supper when he got back to his house. It was slightly late, but he didn't mind.

Driving home, he hummed to himself, a smile ever present on his face. He couldn't help it—he was just a happy person. He always had a smile on his face. Perhaps it was his personally, but it was also a very good mask. By always smiling, he could hide the hurt he often felt.

As a nation, he was immortal. His people, who were humans, were not. This was a lesson he had to learn the hard way during the Hundred Years War when he lost one of the most important people in his life.

Her name was Jeanne, Jeanne d' Arc. She was young, but strong. She had come to him and King Charles claiming to have visions of God who was telling her how to help win the war. It took a little bit, but they finally believed her. Charles gave her about five thousand men to march to Orleans.

Francis, of course, accompanied her on the way. He rode next to her and couldn't believe the faith and courage this young girl had. She wasn't afraid of what she was going into. She knew she could be killed easily. She was a woman, an easy target. Still, she had much faith in God and in her country. She even managed to raise the spirits of the soldiers.

When they made camp, Francis had some time to talk to her. He found out about her life, her family, and her ideas. She turned out to be a strong woman who wasn't about to take crap from anyone. While she wouldn't use vulgar language like the others, she could handle a sword like no one else. When she practice with Francis, she nearly killed him. Realizing that Francis' fencing skills were way below par, she took the time to teach him how to properly use a sword. After a while, he got quite good with the sword thanks to her teaching.

When she was injured in battle, he noticed how she didn't want to be helped. She wanted to be patched up and go right back into the heat of the battle. It took everything to convince her to take a break before going back. It wasn't a serious injury, but it was then that Francis realized how much he wanted to protect her. It was was almost funny how she had been sent by God to protect him when all he wanted to do was protect her.

This led to many arguments over whether or not she should fight. Francis didn't want to see her get hurt and she didn't want to see him get hurt. Somewhere along the line, they realized they had feelings for each other that were greater than just friendship. He wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with her, but she refused. She had devoted herself to God and God alone. He respected her wish to just be friends, though it made him quite upset.

When she died, he was heartbroken. She had been captured and handed over to the English who burned her at the stake. He was there, he saw her. And he couldn't believe how calm she was. She stood there with a calm smile on her face as though she knew a secret. She held the cross proudly and called out to Jesus before she died. She hadn't shed a tear. Francis cried enough for ten people.

It was when he let out a small hiccup that he realized he had been crying. He quickly brushed the tears from his eyes and shook his head to try and get back to focusing on the road. By the time his eyes were clear again, he noticed someone standing in front of his car. He was only going about twenty miles an hour down the street next to his own, but he skidded to a halt a tad too late. He was down to less than two miles an hour when he bumped into the person with the car.

He scrambled out, slamming the door behind him reflexively as he ran to the person. "I am so, so sorry! Are you alright?"

The person looked up at him before standing. She was a girl, no older than nineteen. In the dim lighting, he couldn't really make out her facial features, but he could tell her hair was blonde and her eyes some shade of blue. She rubbed her head and nodded right away.

"I am fine," she said before looking at him for a moment. Her eyes widened in what only could have been recognition, but she said nothing else. Francis noticed the look and felt that the girl seemed familiar, but couldn't quite place it. He still ran to her and checked the back of her head.

"Your head is bleeding a little," Francis commented. "Come along, I will patch that right up for you." He then realized what he had said. It was an innocent offer, but he knew she would reject it. No one in this day and age ran off with some random person they had just been hit by.

She, however, was different. "I said I am fine," she sighed. "But alright." Now thinking about it, Francis could tell she seemed a little tired. He hurried her to the car and helped her into the passenger's seat when she didn't seem to know what to do. He then got in himself and drove home.


She simply couldn't believe it. He was here, right in front of her and yet he could not recognize her. Why would he, though? They had known each other hundreds of years ago. Now he had surely moved on as she had told him to.

Jeanne sat on Francis' couch in his wonderfully fashioned home with some sort of cold pouch pressed to her head. He had confirmed her suspicions by introducing himself. She had managed to get around saying who she was. He really didn't recognize her and it hurt, but she could tell he was happy with this life. She wasn't about to infringe on it. She would just get cleaned up and go... Someplace. She still had no idea where she was going to to.

Francis came back into the living room with two small tablets. "I imagine you have a headache. So, here's some Aspirin to dull the pain."

"I'm fine," Jeanne said for what seemed like the thousandth time. She didn't want to accept help from anyone, especially not from him. She had to be strong for him as she always was. She kept searching him, hoping that he would recognize her. Unfortunately, it never happened.

However, what she didn't realize was that Francis was studying her intently. She looked so much like her, he couldn't believe it. Her eyes were the same shade of blue, her hair the same golden blonde. She even had the same attitude. It was too good to be true, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. It was impossible and he didn't want to risk breaking down in front of this poor woman.

"I insist," he said. "Please, I can tell you are tired and probably in pain. I am truly sorry for that. I could take you home if you'd like after I get the bandage on." He didn't realize that the pain wasn't from being knocked down, it was a side effect of being brought back to life. It tends to be very physically draining she Jeanne was suffering the worst of it, not that she'd ever admit that. He also didn't realize that she didn't have a home, so there was no place for him to take her.

"I am fine and..." she didn't know what to say or how to lie about a home she didn't have. "I can walk myself home."

"Non, it is far too late," Francis said, shaking his head. "I will take you home. Let me just get the bandage on." Not wanting to hear another 'no,' he took the off white bandage and sat down on the couch next to the girl. He placed one hand on her shoulder to steady her before bringing it up to start wrapping the bandage. He moved her hand aside and brushed away her hair to find the slightly reddened cut. Pressing down, he started to wrap the bandage around like a headband around the back of her head and forehead.

"All done," he finally said. She nodded and he was slightly surprised. He had thought she had fallen asleep when she didn't wince from the pressure applied to the injury.

"Thank you," she mumbled out and stood. He looked up at her and couldn't believe how much she looked like Jeanne. It nearly brought tears to his eyes, but he wouldn't allow himself to cry in front of her. He just wanted to get her out of the house now.

"No problem," he said. "Are you sure you do not want me to take you home?" Now he was hoping the answer was no.

She sighed and shook her head lightly, not wanting to aggravate the headache. "Non. I am fine. Thank you for helping me." She looked at him for another moment before turning away and heading for the door. If he didn't recognize her, she wasn't going to make him. It would only bring back bad memories that she was certain he didn't want to remember. He probably wanted to forget about her.

He got up and walked with her to the door. "No problem at all," he said, putting on a fake smile. He then paused. "Might I ask... What is your name?"

"Why would you want to know that?"

Francis was slightly taken aback by the question. Why did he want to know her name? So that he could cry harder once she left? It wouldn't be worth it, but he had to know. The small amount of belief that was left was dying to know.

"You... Remind me of someone I know... Knew. I'm sorry." He looked and saw her smirking at him. Of all the expressions he expected to see after that little confession, he wasn't expecting to see her smirk at him.

"I remind you of someone?" she asked. He nodded. "Perhaps... Jeanne d' Arc?"

His eyes widened. "How did you...?"

She then smiled at him. "So you do recognize me. It's me, Francis. Jeanne."


I was surprised he hadn't recognized her from the beginning, or at least wouldn't give into the probability of it being her. At least that's resolved now. Francis, it's up to you to make her happy. Whatever happens, I know you're the only one who truly can. She's a strong woman, but inside, there's a young girl who needs someone to love and love her back. If anyone can do it, it's you.

And if anyone can screw it up... That's also you!


Yes, I am writing as God -smirks-

So, this fic documents her new life with Francis in modern times. This was just the beginning chapter, but you can already see that she doesn't like being helped and is a good fighter. I'm nervous about writing this simply because I don't want her to seem like a Mary Sue. She is not. Promise~

Also, I know NO French. Google translate is my only option at the moment. Feel free to correct it.

Please review~ I love reviews! They make me so super happy~