In the nights of November, the world was amidst the hollow of a cold sleep. He hears the howling autumn winds sound outside their room, the sight of deciduous branches in a twisted dance, shedding stripped old leaves to sleep and grow anew. The chaos of nature paled to the nation before him, his emotions, his humanity nearly destroyed from a war that never should have happened. Mathias stared out from the bed with a solemn expression, in every year of every November he had stayed with Matthew, his wife cried silent tears in his sleep...tonight was no different.
Mathias shifted his attention back to the sleeping figure beside him, the light chill of the air made him take notice of their naked state, but the state of his wife made him feel more so. He often wondered what Matthew saw in his dreams, how did they fare to the pain of the war commemorated to his tears. He cannot imagine what his beloved experienced in the hellish conditions of the trenches, of the rain that turned the land to a barren wasteland slew with in people falling by the dozens, seeing scraps of their bodies returning to earth or being eaten by various vermin.
The ones who managed to survive another day just braved the clockwork pound of artillery shells that ticked insanity's clock if not the chlorine sea drowning either side's lungs of mucus and blood.
His wife told him of lead shots embedding into his bones and muscle, of the pain lingering in a long instant until the blood rose to the wounds, flowing away in thick droves while under the adrenaline of battle. Matthew told him of how wearingly driven he was to eliminate anyone who crossed him, how once in the war he childishly wanted every German and any other nation helping them destroyed; only for Arthur to help him keep his sanity from sinking to Ivan's level.
Ludwig and Gilbert admitted how death ridden Matthew was, how soulless and calculating he and his people were, how Matthew's love and hate melded together in his usually mild demeanour, how he became this beautiful monster that haunted in their minds.
Mathias still couldn't believe how stricken and coldblooded his wife was before. His Matthew was always a pacifist whose body and independence grew mainly from negotiations than war, unlike the ones between him and Sverige and how his in-law Alfred rebelled against Arthur.
But the past is the past, and his wife still needed to know that his tears do need not shed anymore. The nightmare is over, his family safe, his soldiers gone, but never forgotten.
The Dane reached out to wipe the salty trail from Matthew's face. Under dim light, his wife's violet eyes opened slowly, dilated as if he came from death to stare back at his unsure blue ones. The two of them laid down together in a pregnant pause.
Matthew blinked for a moment before he slow shifted closer to his husband, settling his head at the crook of his neck. "Were you worried about me, Mathias?" he asked quietly.
Mathias wrapped an arm to hold his wife gently against him. "Why wouldn't I be, do you still dream of the First World War?"
"I do" the younger nation admits "the recollections are becoming less severe; I just...need more time to heal Mathias"
The Dane let out a worried sigh, "I can't control how you feel, but...just know that I'm here for you Mattie, you're here and safe with me" Mathias assured.
The Canadian nodded. "Thank you...Mathias" he uttered before setting back to sleep, a light smile adorned his features. Mathias kissed his forehead.
"Be at peace, my beloved mourning star" the Dane hushed before going back to sleep, his eyes caught the window beforehand; the winds have died down, if not stopped.