A/N: If there are any inaccuracies regarding the Blitz or anything else that I may have written, then please let me know through a review or a PM.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or the song 'This is War', no matter how much I would like to, and all rights belong to the creators, Himaruya Hidekaz and 30 Seconds to Mars.
A warning to the people,
the good and the evil.
This is war.
The panicked screams, the rush of people fleeing to the shelters, the heat from the burning fires - so hot that he could almost feel his skin melting - were all things, part of the chaos, that he was slowly getting used to as the year wore on. Not too long ago, he was part of that chaos, the hordes of frightened people. They'd had no idea what was going on, at the start. No bloody idea. The Germans had come out of nowhere on that day, September 7, 1940. Now he sat and watched from his vantage point as his heart was burned, again and again, every night, with a blank and accepting expression etched onto his face. The searing pain that he once felt was gone, replaced with a numb feeling. He couldn't bring himself to give those krauts the pleasure of seeing the once great British Empire withering on the floor in utter agony. He wouldn't, and he couldn't.
To the soldier, the civilian,
The martyr, the victim.
This is war.
And his people.
His people!
They needed him to stay strong, to endure this. For the second time that century, the world was at war! They needed a strong country that wouldn't give up, and would fight for them. He would be that country, again, or, as cliché as it sounded, he would die trying.
For he would. He would die if something didn't change in this endless stream of attacks from the bloody Germans. If they succeeded in burning London to the ground (his capital, his heart!) he would die. What was a nation without their heart, after all? What was a human without a heart, for that matter? But that wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let the Luftwaffe (the German air force) get the better of him. He would fight until the end.
It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie,
The moment to live and the moment to die
The moment to fight, the moment to fight, to fight, to fight, to fight!
Oh, but if only those stupid Americans would come out of their selfish isolation and help Britain, their allies, in this blasted, good for nothing, blood bath.
Was it Alfred's intent to have half the world destroyed? Or was he just too bloody pigheaded to see that yes, the world needed a hero at the moment! They might end up fighting to extinction at this point. How stupidly brave he and his allies were, to go up against the united powers of the Germans and the Russians. They were surrounded. If the German navy, or the Kriegsmarine, as they called it, grew any larger, then... well, suffice to say he mightn't get out of this war alive.
To the right, to the left
We will fight to the death,
To the edge of the earth.
It's a brave new world from the last to the first.
A warning to the prophet,
To the liar, to the honest.
This is war.
To the leader, to the pariah,
the victim, the Messiah.
This is war.
Indeed, thoughts of surrender were never far from his mind during these dire times but then... then he remembered he had to stay strong. For himself, for his citizens, for the world, for... for Alfred.
He needed to stay alive long enough to at least see the younger nation again. He couldn't bare it if they parted on such terms as they were now - those being hostile. They had never quite recovered their friendship after the Revolution happened, and, in fact, they hadn't even seen each other since the signing of the Treaty of Versailles. Even though they were allies now, things between them were as if they were enemies.
That would be the one thing he regretted about his life. Parting with Alfred on such terrible terms when he loved the boy so badly, so deeply.
"Arthur?"
Why wouldn't the boy just join the war anyway? It would be over and done with before they knew it with the strength of his army! And then... then Arthur would get to see him again. The bombings would stop, too. He wouldn't be so exhausted all of the time (though exhaustion never truly went away until a war ended for a country and its citizens, he knew), he would be able to fight alongside the men of his country.
"Arthur!"
He was literally thrown out of his depressing thoughts when he was tackled to the ground by a large body, held tightly against it.
What on earth... ?
England turned his head around as much as he could to get a look at the person who was currently lying on top of him, prepared to give them a few choice words and a nasty beating. He didn't though, when he saw gold, silky hair, a brown aviator jacket and smelled... something so familiar, so welcome, and realised... oh. It's him. Finally.
I do believe in the light,
Raise your hands into the sky
The fight is done
The war is won
Lift your hands toward the sun
Toward the sun, toward the sun, toward the sun
The war is won
"Alfred."
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