There was something magical about his brother. No matter hat happened they could still find something to laugh at, whether it be at each other or some other passerby nation. Yes they fought and yes they had their own quirks but they could still moderately respect each other. At least that's what Alfred thought as he sat by the river, waiting for them to come out.
Yes, magic was the way to describe Arthur. From the memories of fireflies landing on his nose while Alfred laughed to the time Arthur had sent him a Christmas card and fruitcake during the war. He was always there to criticize or face palm. But there were those moments that he smiled, as if lost in an old memory. That's what made him so magical to Alfred.
As the little glowing beetles started to flicker around him, Alfred smiled. They weren't exactly best buddies but he was lucky to have had such a brother.
Maybe he should visit some time?
---
'Hey Arthur! What are you doing?'
'Shit...we're uh...having a costume party...'
'Cool can I join?'
'No...'