Blue.

His favorite color had always been blue.

"Mister Britain, can my flag have blue on it someday?"

Even his eyes were blue. They sparkled in the most admiring and childish way, whenever he saw the ocean or the sky.

He absolutely adored the sky in nice weather. Even on a cloudy day he would always sulk inside and play with his dolls.

"Mister Britain, let's go outside! The sky is blue!"

I had left him. Told him to be strong. Those blue eyes were shining with the threat of tears behind them.

I came back. He wore blue, and he smiled. When did he get to be so big?

"Britain! The sky hasn't been blue since the day you left!"

That childish innocence never failed to be a part of his personality, even at adulthood.

He would always try and incorporate blue into everything.

"Britain, this tuxedo doesn't really suit me...it needs more blue."

His blue eyes, once soft and accepting, grew harder and colder with every day.

Even as he fought me and brought me down to my knees, he wore blue proudly on his chest.

"Britain...all I wanted...was my freedom."

Blue.

I hated the bloody color. Besides, it was a contributing factor to the loss of my brother.