Always Remember
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
Arthur sighed and looked in the mirror, for once his eyes didn't linger on his prominent brow but fell quickly to the red flower that lay proudly on his chest and his lips upturned into a sad little smile. Today would be difficult for all of them, he knew this, what with their clashing ideas of how today was meant to be spent, their disagreements on what actually happened and old grudges that would surely be in full bloom. However, it made him happy to think that regardless of that, he could still don that poppy and smile proudly of the great men he knew who fought in that battle. He turned on his heel to face his former colony that had managed to prick his finger countless of times whilst trying to get the poppy pinned to the breast of his jacket. Arthur tutted and strode over to him, practiced hands managed to take over and secure the poppy in place, he smiled up at Alfred who was now grinning with an embarrassed flush on his cheeks. Matthew, who had already pinned his own poppy on, smiled fondly at the American and adjusted his glasses before blinking at their old caretaker timidly behind the lenses he adorned.
"You needn't have bothered with a poppy, Alfred. You haven't worn one for years, it's not customary for you yanks anymore, is it?" The younger blinked up at Arthur and smiled boyishly at him, his grin was crooked and his eyebrows raised a little and almost added to the childish aura the nation had yet to shake. His hand went up to feel the little synthetic flower and he shrugged.
"I dunno… Just felt like wearing one again, I s'pose, since you and Mattie make such a big deal of it every year," he paused and glanced at his watch, "Hey, hadn't we better get going? I don't think it's going to make it any less uncomfortable if we show up late." The little Canadian to his side let his shoulder's sag and a small sigh escape his lips as he pouted, both of the other nation's turned to look at him quizzically as it was out of character for Matthew to voice his distaste for something and came as a little bit of a surprise.
"I hate this day," he murmured, "Everyone is so… uptight, you know? And the people who don't really commemorate it all attempt to look sympathetic, like they're making up for it or something."
Alfred's face fell and his gaze drifted off in contemplation, Arthur looked between his two former underlings and smiled comfortingly, patting them both on the back and leading them over to the door. It had been a while since he had his boys over and wasn't going to let them be sad because it'd just ruin the whole feeling for him. They looked at him cautiously for a second before pausing when he finally said,
"Don't look so upset boys, you're meant to be proud today, okay? Now chin up and let's go." They all walked with determination, their steps were more like strides. It was only until they reached the outside of the conference room did they all stop and hover, Arthur knew that the two younger nations were waiting for him to make the first move and resented all the same. However, he swallowed his anxiousness and swung the door open proudly before waltzing over to his seat with his chin in the air. The two boys stood their for a moment before walking in too although they lacked the feigned confidence and conviction that their past caretaker had played so effortlessly.
Matthew watched as the next person who entered the room smiled at him and winked charismatically before taking his place next to Arthur. The two pointedly ignored each other, Francis turned slightly to look away from the British nation and animatedly doodled on his notepad whilst Arthur looked around the room and attempted to conceal his irritation. The first world war was thought to have smoothed out a lot of the English-French rivalry or hostility, Matthew considered it as he looked upon his old caretakers and sighed slightly, he didn't want to be dwelling over what had happened back then, his eyes burned with the tears at the thought of the remarkable men and soldiers he had lost in those trenches and his eyes fell down to his poppy.
Ludwig entered next with his head bowed and his face flushed slightly as he took his seat also, it was more so difficult for him to show up to these meetings on today of all days as the antagonism other countries possessed had not died down much throughout the years and he was fully aware that some people glared at him outwardly as he uncomfortably sat down. Alfred rolled his eyes and got to his feet before going over to the German nation and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder in a feeble attempt to instigate peace but as both of their eyes glanced at each other he knew that Ludwig and him were still far from friends, that at the moment in time there was still too much water under the bridge but he also knew that today of all days the German would be feeling his loneliest especially with intimidating countries like Ivan glaring him out.
"Morning America," the German muttered formally, Alfred raised his brow to show his displeasure at the all too 'proper' way he was addressed but nevertheless he smiled and nodded before going to sit back down. It wasn't long until the room was full of the nations who needed to be there and buzzing with different voices, accents and languages. Finally, Alfred had to stand again and address them all, knowing that it would only make the atmosphere tenser if Germany did it like he usually did.
"Okay guys," he pronounced his words with clear neutrality, attempting not to make worse of an already uncomfortable situation, "We all know what day it is today so we're not actually going to be going over anything majorly important in case emotions influence anything that's said, we'll just be talking about foreign relations today, if you're under orders by your boss to go and talk to other countries then now is a good time to do it. Thank you."
Arthur raised his hand, "May I…" Alfred looked down at his watch and nodded.
"Ah yes, of course. It's two minutes to eleven, Artie… I er.. mean England, nope that's wrong, Britain, jeez you have too many names. Anyway, is Britain still the only one who has to do a two minutes silence? Yep. Okay, go ahead Artie."
The British nation stood, finally stirring a look from the Frenchman sat next to him, before exiting the room, his hand going up to touch his poppy gently as if for comfort.
The room was thick with discomfort, people spoke quietly to each other and uncertainly. It was only when twenty minutes passed did Alfred raise suspicions due to Arthur's absence, the British nation usually hurried back to the meeting after the two minutes but for some reason he seemed to be avoiding everyone else. Francis sighed and clicked his pen on the table irritably, with an exasperated grunt his lips turned up into a small smile and he stood slowly and made his way to the door, Matthew watched his retreating figure with concern.
"I'll go get Angleterre," he said, a smile was almost audible in his voice as he sashayed out of the room. Francis walked down the corridor, knowing fully well where the Englishman would be, he strode with purpose, only stopping occasionally stopping to wink at passers by. When he reached the door he knocked but when there was no reply he simply swung open the door and walked over to where the English nation was hunched over. The room's curtains had been drawn and the light switched off so it was quite dark, the only source of light was the sun peeking through a crack in the curtains. Arthur's cheeks were stained with tears, he looked up at the intruder before glaring and promptly turning around. He hated feeling so weak especially in front of Francis, his longtime rival, he sniffed and used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe away the tears that stood stubbornly on his face.
"Oh dear," Francis murmured, one of his arms slung over the younger nation's shoulders, "What do we have here? Why the tears, Arthur?"
"You know why, idiot. I'm just… I don't like today, I know that nobody does but you should have seen the boys this morning, poor Canada was beside himself he actually complained about something a-and I don't think it's fair that we all stand here looking solemn at the memory of the shoulders when we stood next to them in battle and was assured our lives, they weren't, they died so we could carry on existing and… and.."
"Arthur, hush. We all lost great men in the war and then again in world war two and there are some nations that are still losing great men in battle right now, yourself included. Those men didn't die for our existence, they died for the pride of the people in their country and have rightfully earned it, yes?"
Arthur nodded, a few tears spurting down his cheeks as the Frenchman rocked him gently, hating that he broke down whilst everyone remained so calm and to add insult to injury Francis just had to be the one to witness his moment of weakness.
Back at the conference room, people were now barely speaking, Alfred watched as Feliciano sheepishly edged over to Ludwig and ignored his elder brother's complaints. The German blinked and looked at the Italian who for once had his eyes wide open, soft artistic hands went out to caress Ludwig's face and soon enough Feliciano was perched on the German's lap. Rodreich and Elizaveta looked at each other sadly every now and then, both of them still blamed the first world war for their divorce and resentment was still thick between them, although it was obvious that they still cared for each other. Matthew appeared at Alfred's side and impatiently pulled at his sleeve,
"We should go check on them," he whispered, "They've been gone for a long time."
Alfred sighed but nodded before following his companion around the corridors and to the room where Francis and Arthur stayed. At first, he was shocked to see Arthur being rocked by Francis but then his chest tightened and he ran over to them both, Matthew stood awkwardly at the door, unsure what to do.
"Don't cry, Artie. Please don't cry," Alfred murmured tears prickling in his eyes too, Arthur rolled his eyes and rubbed at his cheeks, and making sure that any trace of dampness was wiped away.
"I'm fine, idiot," he murmured, his voice was thick as though he had a cold. Francis blinked up at Matthew and motioned for him to come over, the younger Canadian took a few reluctant steps forward before too running over and jumping at both of his former caretakers.
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There are never victimless wars, the idea itself is preposterous. No matter how low the casualty rates are, no matter how short a time soldiers have to be out there representing their country each of them with different goals in mind, no matter how insignificant a war may seem in years to come, there will always be victims.
The women who stay home whilst their husbands fight and risk their lives are victims. They are made to put on a brave face, be it for their children or for other women, and to act as though they are unfazed although their heart leaps whenever the phone rings in case it's bad news, although they are both terrified and comforted by news programmes.
The men fighting are victims. They fight for whatever goal has been assigned to them, they have to watch as their brothers in arms fall and have to pretend to be at peace with the prospect of their lives coming to an end whilst they fight.
The people left behind are victims as they watch programmes of valiant men who have lost limbs or even their lives, as people around them are taken away and thrust into a warzone, as they have to comfort people who have lost or have a suitable expression placed on their faces whilst they remember.
A victimless war will never exist, the idea itself would be laughable if it wasn't so sad. For there will always be victims in war and there is no other way to go around it.
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"Germany," the Italian cooed, resting his head on the others chest, the rest of the nations had long left meaning that they were alone. Ludwig's face never faltered, he didn't let stress or worry become apparent in his expression but the Italian was not as dim as he appeared.
"Yes?" the baritone replied softly, Feliciano played with hands gently, his expression thoughtful as he let his own bare fingers dance around the gloved strong ones of the German he was sat on.
"I've never been that useful to you in war and I'm very sorry for that, I don't mean to be scared so easily but I just want you to know that no one blames you for those wars anymore, it's what we all would have done if we were in your position with your same bosses, so please don't dwell on it, okay?"
The strong man's head went out and rested on the smaller's shoulder, "Okay," he murmured gently as he took in the comfort the other nation gave to him.
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
(A/N: It's Remembrance Day c: I live in the UK and over here it seems that a lot of people take it quite seriously so I felt the need to write something for it. The day is a memorial day to remember those who died in the armed forces, it started in commonwealth countries at the end of world war one but I'm pretty sure other countries outside the commonwealth celebrate it too. I think in America it's called Veteran's day or something? I'm not too sure ^^' Anyway, I hope you liked it. The poem used was 'For the Fallen' written by Laurence Binyon.)