Arthur Kirkland was convinced he hated this war more than anyone else. Freezing to death in a trench didn't exactly scream 'Happy Holidays'. The young Brit rubbed his hands together and tried to remain as warm as possible under the thin, scratchy blanket he had been issued. The man sitting across from him shivered and just stared at a picture. All Arthur could see in his eyes was death. All Arthur could see in front of him was a shell of a man. That's all Arthur could see nowadays. Empty men who were quickly losing the will to go on.
Arthur pulled his legs into his chest as he watched a rat scurry by near his feet. He hadn't bathed in weeks and he felt disgusting. The air around him was so cold, it nearly choked him. His teeth chattered and his body shook as he anxiously awaited any orders. Arthur's hand trembled as he pulled out the cigarette he placed behind his ear for safe keeping. He fumbled around with his coat pocket until he found his limited supply of matches. He decided he deserved a good smoke today. A holiday treat.
"Merry bloody fucking Christmas" he mumbled bitterly as he placed the cigarette between his teeth. Arthur took a long, slow drag after lighting it. The heat warmed him up a bit and the tobacco calmed his nerves. Arthur narrowed his dull green eyes when he heard a sharp snap and a cry of pain. That was the third man today.
"Bloody cowards" he cursed. He was sick of these men, sick of their desperate attempts to escape the very thing they signed up for. Purposely getting shot in the hand was in his opinion the most shameful way to get out of this hell hole. Arthur may have hated the war, but he had the dignity to see things through to the end.
"Kirkland!"
Arthur picked his head up wearily when he heard his name. A commanding officer approached, which meant Arthur had to get to his feet. He stood achingly and brought his hand up to a salute.
"Yes sir?" he responded half heartedly. The taller officer glared at him and smirked.
"You're on scouting duty, Sergeant" he scoffed. Arthur's heart sank as the blood rushed from his head. Scouting was the most dangerous operation on these battlefields, especially since he was on enemy fields. Arthur gulped and nodded weakly. The officer looked him up and down for a moment and chuckled.
"Good luck soldier" he snickered. Arthur let his head hang after the man left. He refused to cry. He had been through too much and had seen too much to give in to his weakness now. Al he had to do was fight to see the next day. He'd figure things out from there. That's how he'd been living for the past year, day to day, praying to see the end of a war that no one thought would ever turn out this horrible. A quick war, they had said.
Arthur shook his head and grabbed and extra jacket and gun before putting his helmet on. He took one last look around before dropping the cigarette and stomping it out on the snow lined ground. "Wish me luck, gentlemen" he mumbled before taking his pack and heading out in to the German winter.
(-)
Lost.
The worst thing that could happen happened. Arthur was lost in the middle of a forest in a country where he was hated. On land where Germans were creeping about, more than eager to see English blood stain the lily white snow scarlet. Arthur kept to the trees and tried to remain as silent as possible. His hands desperately clutched the battered Lee Speed he had been issued and tried to retrace his steps. But the continual snowfall didn't aid his vision or his perception of the land around him.
Arthur stopped and looked up at the sky it was mostly cloudy, but he could see one bright star shining through. The world around him seemed to pause as he gazed at the dark sphere that cloaked over him. Arthur decided he hated war. He hated this war in particular and he wanted to go home. At that moment, he stopped thinking about his own life. Sure he was afraid to die. But so had been the men he had shot, the men he had killed.
War was a terrible, destructive thing. Behind the fanfare and the glory, there was evil. And hate that Arthur didn't understand. What if men stopped to stare at the stars instead stop to blow each other's heads off. That seemed like a much more beautiful world.
Arthur's heart stopped when he heard a twig snap. He immediately turned around and found his gun trained on another man. A German. Arthur stared at the man for a moment before throwing his weapon to the ground. The German let a flash of shock fly across his face before letting his glare harden again. The tall blonde kept his gun pointed to Arthur's chest and remained still.
"I won't kill tonight" Arthur stated in butchered German. The enemy dropped his shoulders ever so slightly, but remained on guard. Arthur looked back up at the sky and bit his lip. Right now he would allow himself to cry. Because he wasn't crying out of fear. He wasn't crying for his life. His was crying for the blood shed on what was supposed to be a time of peace. Because man decided to put himself before God on this day dedicated to joy and life.
"Frohe Weihnachten" Arthur mumbled as the hot tear rolled down his cheek. When he looked back at the German, the young man had his head hung out of shame. And Arthur knew that man was just like him. He knew the German wasn't his enemy.
"We're terrible aren't we?" the German finally muttered in perfect English before putting his gun in his holster. Arthur nodded and looked away. Was he betraying his country by letting this German live without so much as a fight. He decided the answer to his question wasn't worth struggling over.
"What's your name?" Arthur asked, finally looking back at the man before him. The German looked conflicted, unsure if he could answer. Arthur gave him a small smile and stepped forward.
"I'm Arthur Kirkland" he offered, extending out his hand. The German's icy blue eyes scanned the appendage, still full of uncertainty.
"Ludwig Beilschmidt" he answered firmly before hesitantly taking the hand. The sensation felt weird, gripping the hand of the supposed enemy not maliciously, but peacefully. Arthur nodded and wiped his nose with the back of his other hand.
"I'm exhausted and lost. Care to sit with me? I know I'm not exactly ideal company, but you're the only humane person I've come across in a long time." The Brit chuckled. Ludwig smirked a bit and nodded.
"You think a German is humane?" He joked. Arthur smirked back and leaned against a tree. "You should meet the bastards in my trench" he mumbled before pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Two in one day, what a splurge. Arthur sighed and pulled one out as Ludwig sat beside him.
Arthur wordlessly offered the pack to Ludwig, who hesitantly grabbed one of the sticks. Arthur lit his own before offering the light to the man beside him. "Danke" Ludwig thanked him after taking in a puff.
Ludwig dug into his own pocket and pulled out an aluminum covered bar. Arthur ogled at the bar and looked back up at Ludwig. "Bloody hell, is that what I think it is?!" he asked in amazement. Ludwig smirked and broke it in half, offering part of it to Arthur.
"Chocolate?" he asked, handing it over to the Brit. Arthur laughed and took it. "Dear God man, are you an angel?" Ludwig chucked and shook his head.
"We both know I'm far from it" he sighed.
"I'm not exactly innocent myself" Arthur mumbled bitterly. "You wanna know something funny Ludwig?" he asked passively, wanting to take his mind off of the violence around him. Arthur was glad to see a small smile on the young man's face.
"What?" he responded curiously before taking a bite out of his chocolate. Arthur smirked and glanced at Ludwig.
"I have no fucking idea why we're fighting this war in the first place" he chuckled. Ludwig was silent beside him before letting his smile widen ever so slightly.
"Over an Austrian" he replied, clearly fighting to hide his own amusement. Arthur smirked and tapped the butt of his cigarette over the snow.
"That's right, isn't it?" he said, half to himself. "Tell me about yourself Ludwig" he continued lightheartedly. "You got a sweetheart back home?"
The uncertainty returned to Ludwig's eyes. He never spoke of life back home. That led to questions and details which he didn't want to go into. Yet he ached to speak of everything he loved and missed. Thinking about the others waiting for him just wasn't enough for him anymore. And the man beside him, politely waiting for an answer, was a stranger. A man he'd more than likely never meet again. Aman who's judgment would only last for a fleeting moment.
Ludwig sighed and reached into his boot. Arthur chuckled when the German pulled out a photograph. "Atta boy, Ludwig" he cheered playfully. Ludwig glanced at the picture affectionately before slowly handing it to Arthur.
Arthur looked over the picture. He saw a bright young man with auburn hair grinning wildly. The young man looked like he was laughing, smiling, being carefree in a way that made Arthur's heart break. "Is he…" Arthur started, still staring at the naïve man in the picture.
"Are you disgusted?" Ludwig asked quietly. He knew he wasn't supposed to love that man, but he didn't know how anyone couldn't. He stared at Arthur as the latter leaned his head against the tree and stared at the sky.
"Alfred."
Ludwig tilted his head and rested his forearms on his knees. Arthur silently reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his own picture before giving it to Ludwig. Ludwig smiled a bit when he saw the eager young man with bright blue eyes smirking and striking a heroic pose. "I see" he muttered in response.
"Alfred's not waiting for me at home though" Arthur continued. "He's an American soldier. But I have no idea where he is right now. I'm afraid after all is said and done, I'll return home and he'll never come back" he whispered. Ludwig nodded and handed back the picture. Arthur did the same and sighed.
"What's his name?" he asked idly as he stared at Alfred.
"Feliciano. I met him awhile ago while I was visiting someone in Italy with my brother. His Grandfather owns a small restaurant in Bologna." Ludwig ran his thumb over the picture and frowned. "I haven't seen him in two years. I'm afraid he'll forget about me."
Arthur offered up a small smile and placed his hand on Ludwig's shoulder.
"I don't think you have to worry about that."
This one's going to be shorter folks. I absolutely love BritainxGermany friendship. I think they complement each other very well. I decided to split up the first chapter because it was getting a bit long for my taste.
The German Arthur uses means merry Christmas. A Lee Speed is a British rifle. Men would hold their hand up over the top f the trench as a target so they would be shot and sent home.