Hi there! So, this entire Fanfic is going to be my longest story yet! (Yay!) There will be a lot of different Hetalia couples in here too!

Please know that some of these will not necessarily be happy things, due to it being World War 3 in this story. Also, there might be some OOC-ness, but just bear with it, please? Alright, fun!

There will be more chapters after this and I'll post them as soon as I can type them.

Now, a disclaimer that applies to the whole story: I, sadly, do not own any part of Hetalia. I do, however, i do own the idea of what this story is!

I hope you like this! ;)


France x Canada

"Canada? Canada?" France called out among the rubble and dead bodies. He had been separated from Canada at some point during the battle that had ended only moments before. Canada was one of France's few allies left in this damned war. Losing him would be tragic. It wouldn't just be losing an ally; France would be losing his son.

"Canada?" France pushed away those thoughts and kept searching.

"H-hello?" a weary voice answered back. France tensed and looked ahead at a figure emerging from the smoke.

"Canada?" France asked the wobbling person. Identifying his son's curl, he smiled. However, that smile faded away when he noticed that Canada was covered in blood.

"Papa?" Canada asked and lost his balance.

France rushed over and caught him before he hit the ground. "It's okay, Matthew. It's me." France said as he laid Canada down and had the latter's head rest gently on his own lap. France stroked Canada's hand with his thumb.

"I-I don't know how…Russia…lead pipe…I tried, Papa. I r-really did, but-"

"Hush, mon cher. I know you tried. You were very brave." France smiled while tears slid down his cheeks. If Russia did this, Canada would surely be bleeding to death.

"Papa?" Canada asked.

"Oui, mon cher?"

"Until I go, don't leave me. S'il vous plait?"

"You won't go, Matthew. Okay?" France's heart began to break.

"Papa, d-don't lie. Just, p-please don't leave me." Canada gave France's hand a squeeze and began to cry himself.

"O-okay." France swallowed hard. "Don't worry, Matthew, I won't leave."

Canada smiled weakly. Though he did this, his eyes told how afraid he was. "Je t'aime." He whispered. "Au revoir, Papa."

"Je t'aime, Matthieu." France replied shakily. Before he could even say 'Matthieu,' though, Canada's breathing stopped. His eyes no longer blinked, and his hand let go of France's.

For a moment, France let this sink in. Then, he began to shake his head violently. "Non. Non!" He yelled at no one in particular. "Matthieu! Matthieu! Non!" He shook Canada a bit. "It's no use, Francis." He eventually told himself. "It's no use." France cried. He stared at Canada for a few moments before gently closing his son's eyes. He cradled Canada in his arms and cried softly.

Wars create chain reactions. That is for certain. After Canada's death, France made a vow that Russia would never gain his trust as an ally or friend ever again. France wasn't stupid, though, and didn't go right in for vengeance. However, he did decide that he would gang up on Russia eventually. But for now, the grudge was strong.