Disclaimer: We do not own Hetalia. It belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I lied. Soundtrack: Some Nights by fun. and Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift Here we go!
Author's Note: Oh my Zeus, I am so sorry for making you guys wait this long for an update on my stories. Life has been so chaotic recently that I haven't had time or the inspiration to write much. This fic was written with an England cosplayer I'm friends with. If you want to see the rest of this one, post a review! I should have the first chapter to Through War & Woe up by next week. Be patient with me, please! Without further ado~
Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck...
but I still wake up. I still see your ghost.
Alfred sat up from his spot under an apple tree. He gripped his musket tight and tried desperately to shake off the nightmare. They'd been getting worse as the war went on. This one had left him wondering how he was still alive; his dream-self had been shot through the heart by Arthur.
After two years, he wasn't sure how much longer his heart could take it. Regret encompassed his life. The night knew his sorrows better than anyone living or dead. In the end, he just sat there shaking. Clutching the cross Arthur had given to him as a child, he looked skyward.
"Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for," he murmured.
There had been a time in his life when the Englishman had been the center of his universe. Now, he pondered if he was doing the right thing by fighting his former guardian. The cost of freedom had placed too many of his people in an early grave. 'War is a terrible thing,' Alfred thought as he stared at the stars.
Well, some nights I wish that this all would end
'Cause I could use some friends for a change.
Arthur had spent half the night just as lost in the woods as Alfred had been. Both of them, unbeknownst to either country, had been separated from their regiments after a particularly bloody firefight. However, the Englishman was clearly more aware of his surroundings. He realized from thirty paces away that his former colony sat alone and entirely ignorant of a possible sneak attack. He grinned to himself, edging foreward.
Arthur came up from behind, "Are you happy now Alfred?"
Alfred jumped and turned quickly to aim the musket at the Englishman. His hands shook which made aiming difficult. He could almost hear Gilbert yelling at him for letting his guard down like this. For shame! The young man scolded himself in the Prussian's stead.
Steeling his heart, he snapped, "What do you mean, England?"
Arthur stepped closer, "With this bloody damn war you started... are you happy with what you are doing to me, to us?"
Alfred forced himself not to tense. Adrenaline cleared his mind and made him grip the trigger. He held his fire; he didn't want to end this meeting like his dream. "What about the atrocious Acts against my people!? Did they deserve to be taxed into the ground?" Blue eyes blazed with cold fire as he stared down the older nation.
Arthur stood his ground and stared at Alfred. "I did what I thought was right. What other choice did I have America? No one else would lend me any money."
"You could have treated us like equals and asked for help," Alfred said as hurt briefly crossed his face. It made his heart ache to think that England couldn't see that.
"You know I hate when people see that I'm unstable Alfred. You should have been willing to help me wither I asked or not anyway, you are/were my colony." Arthur replied tersely, wishing America could see it from his point of view instead of just judging him.
"I was willing to help! I sent my men to their deaths during the Seven Years' War to save your hide, England," Alfred glared. His weapon hadn't been lowered in inch.
"Yes and I am grateful for that, but I also needed your help after the war and what do you do you start this rebellion against me." Arthur raised his voice at Alfred, pissed and upset thinking about what America was doing to him.
"There's only so much I can do... especially when you're threatening the lives of my people," Alfred snarled. He was trying his hardest not to let this get to him. Sorrow lanced through his anger, "I'm tired of hurting others and being hurt. I miss you, Artie." The musket was lowered by a few inches.
Arthur grew more agitated, "I'm sorry it threatened your people, but I had no other choice! I thought long and hard of what I could do; that was the only thing I could come up with. All your talk about not wanting to hurt others… what do you think this is doing to me, Alfred? Do you know how much you are hurting not only me, but my country with your bloody rebellion? I barely survived the Seven Years' War and you are putting me through another one with you."
"You could have let me go," Alfred spoke softly, "It was your choice to respond with force. You still have Matthew..."
This war had driven a spike of tension between him and Canada. He knew how badly he'd hurt England, himself and all the other countries involved.
He choked on unshed tears, "I'm sorry."
Arthur's heart was breaking at the sight of Alfred, but he just couldn't give in.
"Your apology is too late, boy. How am I supposed to forgive you? And please tell me how does anyone let someone whom they consider to be their son go?"
Alfred flinched at the harsh tone. He was at a complete loss and could do nothing to stop the hot tears as the fell. "I know it is, Artie," he said in a broken whisper, "I'd hoped you would eventually understand.."
"Understand? Oh, I understand perfectly. You would rather have me gone, out of your life, than to be with me," Arthur stated with a cold, dead voice. He was starting to feel numb from all the mixed emotions that were going through him at the moment.
Shock rippled across his features, "T-that's not what I meant! Damn it, England... I wanted a chance to make it own my own and be there for you as a nation. I wanted to protect you for a change."
Arthur's numbness left and all he felt was massive pain and loss. He could feel himself coming close to breaking down. He tightened his grip on his musket to help keep is emotions at bay.
"Protect me? You're killing me, Alfred! I don't want to fight with you. I hate fighting with you, but I have no other choice. Can't you see I'm only fighting because I don't want to lose you."
"Unless you put a musketball through my heart, you're not going to lose me, Arthur." Cool determination echoed in his voice. Alfred didn't want to fight any more than Arthur did... but this was necessary.
"But I can't call you mine anymore and we don't know how this will end anyway." Arthur felt his heart breaking. The angry and condemnation ebbed away into the darkness until the other thing left was his undeniable anguish over the loss.
"Tu vivras dans mon coeur," Alfred shot him a small, almost hopeful smirk. With his free hand, he tried to wipe away his tears.
Arthur looked confused, "What do you mean by that?"
"You'll be in my heart," Alfred smiled warmly, "Always. If I were to fall in this war, I'd hope that it was you pulling the trigger."
Arthur went silent. He hadn't thought about the outcome of this war much; he didn't like to. He wondered if it really came down to it could he actually kill the American. The Englishman's heart tore itself to ribbons over the question. There was no answer to the query that he could find in the tattered maze of his mind.
Silence fell for a time. Alfred wasn't willing to break the miniscule amount of peace for fear of saying something he'd regret later. He let Arthur sort out his internal dilemma, occasionally shooting a worried, sideways glance at him. Placing his faith in Arthur for the first time in years, he leaned his musket against the tree and tied a white handkerchief to the bayonet.
Arthur watched Alfred lay if musket down and did the same with his. He knew he wouldn't be able to shoot the American, no matter how pissed off he was. "So what do you plan to do now?"
Adrenaline slowly ebbed away. The dull ache in his right leg made itself known again. Sitting down, he looked at the wound he'd received earlier that day and cursed.
"I plan on tending to this and after that," he paused long enough to pull out his small medical kit, "I don't know."
Arthur looked down at Alfred's bloodied leg. He sighed and bent down, taking the first aid kit from Alfred. "Here let me help you with that." Arthur slowly bandaged Alfred's leg up.
Alfred winced at the pressure, "T-thanks." He hadn't expected Arthur to help him. Still, he was grateful for it.
After a few minutes Arthur finished with Alfred's leg and stood up. "There you should be good, but don't forget to change it every few days or so."
"I know how to care for my injuries, Artie," he smirked and gave an exasperated sigh. Alfred knew exactly what he planned to do come morning light. He'd have to relocate the troop he'd lost during the retreat.
Arthur leaned back against the tree and watched Alfred. He didn't know what the young American intended to do now, but he knew one could never be too careful in a war.
Alfred leaned against Arthur's leg, resting his head on it. Despite how he felt for his people, he still cared for his former guardian and wouldn't have preferred anyone else's company at the moment. Without looking up, he asked, "What about you, Artie? What are you going to do next?"
Arthur thought for a moment and began stroking the boy's hair absent mindedly, "Try to get my country back on track. Hopefully, I can undo some of the damage this has caused."
Alfred hummed a song from his childhood and listened. The once happy tune was almost mournful now. It lulled him back towards his dreams. He didn't hear the approaching footsteps of a heavily armed troop.
Red coats gleamed in the pale moonlight, to the dismay of the Englishman.
His men had found him…
And Alfred.
Afterward: You know, I got all of one crack pairing request.. does anyone was to send in a pairing and a plot bunny? I'll write just about anything.