Author's note:

I got the sweetest comment on my last story. Thank you, anon. I wrote it in between 10 pm and 3 am the night before/day of, but didn't upload it until after I slept and got my password back. xD It wasn't boring, and I hope that you find this one to be good as well. 8D Of course I read the comment half way through writing this, so I feel like it'll fail. OTL. I also heard the song with some of it's lyrics at the bottom near the end of the story. XD They fit so well that I just had to add them in.

They were both tired and each of them knew the other was near their breaking point. Arthur gripped his musket tightly against his chest, listening to his heavy breaths to try and concentrate. He was leaning against a large rock that acted as a bunker as the two armies dueled it out. It took him a while, but Arthur was able to slow his heart rate down just a bit. Though, one would wonder how he could tune everything out with the sound of guns and the smell of blood lingering in the air. He was able to close his eyes and imagine himself back in his home across the ocean. Behind his eyelids, the image that placed a smile on his face was as clear as the day it had happened.

It was a bright day in the middle of summer and the British man had decided to bring his tea to the table that sat in the small but colorful garden. It was peaceful as he took his first sip of the warm tea, a small smile appearing on his face. Though, the peace was short lived as he heard the sound of the familiar young boy he had taken in stomping through his house and slamming the door to the patio behind him as he made his way towards the older country. At this point, America was merely a thought process with Arthur being unsure as to if he should send more people to colonize the extension of his country. The boy with darker hair sat down in the chair opposite of him, green eyes peering at him as the cup lifted to the man's lips once more.

"Why aren't you letting more people come over?" Alfred demanded, hitting his fist on the small metal table, causing it to rattle slightly. A sigh escaped the man's lips, putting the warm cup back on the matching saucer and crossing on leg over the other. He knew this was coming sooner or later. His little prototype was going to get antsy- after all, he was a teenager.

"These things take time, Alfred." He said calmly, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in the seat.

"Bullshit!"

"You're not ready." The younger boy had heard it plenty of times before and he was absolutely sick of it. Arthur never let him do anything, which meant he couldn't prove to him that he was capable of controlling the future towns.

"But I am ready!" Arthur looked from the grass where his gaze had landed back towards the other man, surprised to see the eager blue eyes that stared straight back at him. There was something there- a fire that at the time he had assumed to be nothing more than just his normal energy. Picking up the cup of black tea, he tried to keep his expression from showing any sign of giving in. Though, it truly was a tempting thought. There was already a tiny amount of people there who seemed to be absolutely miserable. "Please, Arthur?" He begged once more before England took another sip of the tea and set it down with more force, admitting defeat.

"Fine." Without looking at him, he could already tell that the teenager was perking up in his seat, showing a smile that seemed to be saying that he was the happiest boy on Earth. "You can go on the next boat. It should be leaving early tomorrow, so you'd better get packing." Alfred stood up, moving towards the man to pull him in a hug that was so quick, it was over before the older man could even realize it had happened.

"Thank you!" He said, looking like he was on top of the world before turning on his heels to go back. A small smile remained on the man's face as his gaze moved towards the plants surrounding him. At that point in time, it was only sending someone he thought of as a brother to go take care of something for him.

How did it end up like this? His eyes shot open upon hearing one of the men standing near him fall over in pain. He merely stared down at the bleeding man who looked at him with pleading eyes. A displeased look appeared upon the British man's face, but he ignored the cries in pain as the man bled from his stomach. Turning around and using the boulder as a shield, he aimed his gun straight for Alfred, who looked as cocky as ever standing in the front lines of his army yelling for them to keep going. As he pulled the trigger, his blue eyes widened upon seeing the gun aimed towards him. Though, to his delight, the person on the other side of the dying bodies had missed him.

"You've lost your touch, old man!" He yelled towards him, flashing his newly found heroic smile towards the older country.

"We'll see about that!" Arthur scoffed, moving behind the rock once more to reload the gun.

Arthur wasn't the only one who was wondering how it had ended up like this. The "hero" had forgotten what had started the bickering between them- what had caused him to rebel against the person who had helped raised him. Though, it wasn't just that anymore- England had turned it into a fight for pride.

"Win at all costs!" He yelled, listening to a new round of shot firing towards the British soldiers. "Fight for independence!"

"What? You've got to be kidding me!" The man said, looking at the letter he had received on the boat that had brought over new shipments. "How does he expect us to pay for this?" He yelled inside of his home, slamming down the letter on his wooden table. Running a hand through his hair, Alfred tried taking a couple deep breaths to calm down. He sat down, resting his elbows on the table and running his hands through his hair to try and figure out what he was supposed to do. Life for him was miserable across the ocean. He wished that he could just tell the other man that he had had enough and that it was a lost cause with the "savages" that already inhabited the "newly found" land. "What the hell?" The blonde yelled, throwing a fist back onto the table and closing his blue eyes tightly. He couldn't think- the only things that he could see that would fix it would be to lose all his pride and pay the high taxes or to call war on Arthur. Both of them were tugging at his mind, trying to pull him to one side or the other. Breaking off from England would leave them with no more of the resources they got from the trade with them, but would allow them to open trade with other countries. The blonde man wouldn't be there when he was on the brink of death in the cold and miserable winters. Though, if Alfred continued to pay these high taxes, he would only think of himself as a pawn and would only be able to trade with whoever England deemed worthy enough.

No- Alfred had had enough. He quickly stood up, grabbing a piece of paper, a quill, and ink. He began to write down his thoughts- how he was desperately torn over the decision and how he was sorry for what he was going to do. The black ink reflected his torn heart and how no matter the outcome of the war, it was going to be good for the both of them. It would show the two of them just what mistake they had made. If Arthur won, it was that he shouldn't have brought him over. On the other hand, if Alfred won, he would have found that he shouldn't have followed the harsh orders of his brother.

It took a long time to get to him by boat, but when Arthur received the letter, his jaw tightened. He had seen it coming, which had been why he raised the taxes to begin with. He could feel the younger boy slipping from his grasp at an alarming rate and he couldn't have that. He needed something to tie the two of them together, and if he made Alfred financially dependent on him, he figured there was no way that he would be able to break away from him. Though, with every word his emerald eyes scanned over, he felt his heart drop lower and lower into his stomach.

"If it's a war he wants, then it's a war he'll get."

The two of them stood alone on the field covered in blood and radiated the smell of death and decay. Both of their faces were dirty, bags hanging under their eyes. Alfred half stumbled, half ran towards the older of the two, attempting to punch him in the face. Though, the man had stepped out of the way and watched the smaller nation fall onto the ground. Arthur's lungs were heavy, making him stumble towards the other as well, pressing one foot down on the exhausted boy to make him fall back into the mud.

"Look what you've done!" Arthur spat, closing his eyes for a moment with his foot still resting on America's back.

"What I've done? This is your fucking fault!" America yelled back, his face turned to one side so he could still look up at the nation with one eye.

"My bloody fault? Hah!" He scoffed, taking his foot off and stumbling back a few feet. The colony sat up, looking towards the other colony step towards him with his hands gripping the unloaded gun. The butt of the gun collided with his face, causing the already bruised Alfred to fall back once more. Though, the younger one merely laughed, covering the new red mark with one of his hands.

"Your fault." He repeated, nodding with an exhausted smile on his face. Arthur couldn't help but wonder if he really thought he had won. There was nothing left, and the younger one couldn't even stand at this point. How was there any chance that the heroic expression on his face could come true?

"It's over, Alfred! You're done!" He yelled, watching the boy who remained on his knees with his cheerful blue eyes looking up towards him. Truly, England didn't want to hurt him anymore. He didn't want to fight, but that was the only thing they could do. "Beg! Tell me you've had enough and beg for forgiveness!" Alfred shook his head, causing the one standing to punch him in the face with all of his strength. America bit down on his cheek as soon as the fist collided with his face, causing him to puncture the inside. He supported himself from falling backwards onto the ground with his torso turning slightly away from his enemy and his hands digging into the ground. Spitting out the blood that had filled his mouth with a metal taste, he looked back towards his brotherly figure.

"I won't. I'm the hero, didn't you know?" Alfred said, which startled the older country. The man bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at the man with the curl in disgust. How could he look so smug and so defeated at the same time? Arthur just couldn't understand it. He walked away from the other country for a mere moment, dropping his gun and replacing it with the one that the teenager had dropped on the ground earlier. His green eyes scanned it, a small smirk appearing on his face as he walked back towards the injured boy.

"Things could have been better." He said, coming to a stop and turning to face him once more. England smiled slightly towards the eccentric boy, pulling the butt of the gun over his own shoulder and stabbing the bayonet attachment into the left side of Alfred's chest and dropping it as soon as he pulled it out. He stood there for a moment, watching the boy laying on his back as the last couple breaths left his lungs. Truly, he felt terrible. Kneeling down next to the boy, he placed his thumb on one of the eyes, his middle on the other and putting enough pressure on the lids so he could close them. "I'm sorry, brother." Arthur fell to his knees beside the other blonde, burying his face into his hands. What have I done?

How long must I pray, must I pray to you?
How long must I wait, must I wait for you?
How long 'til I see your face?
See you shining through?

I'm on my knees
Beggin' you to notice me.
I'm on my knees.
Father will you turn to me?

One tear in the dropping rain.
One voice in a sea of pain.
Could the maker of the stars,
hear the sound of my breaking heart?
One light- that's I am.
Right now I can barely stand.
If you're everything you say you are,
would you come close and hold my heart?

I've been so afraid, afraid to close my eyes.
So much can slip away before I say goodbye.
But if there's no other way,
I'm done asking why.