A/N: Ahem. Don't know if I'm doing this whole posting thing right but I'll give it a shot; let's start us off with the basics.
First of all the pairing is going to be Alfred/Matthew, it's an AU set in WWII where they both join the Devil's Brigade.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Hetalia, not Canada, not anything.
For the French parts I simply decided to italicize it because I thought that would make it easier for everyone involved. If anyone would rather I write it in French and translate it at the bottom I can do that as well, or mix in both, your wish is my command darlings.
It will be M later on... oh will it ever be. But first things first! A little exposé and then on to the interesting things I promise. Now without further ado:
The Devil's Brigade: A Reluctant Story
Chapter 1: Matthieu's very own prologue
The sun had already started to dip behind the pine trees in the distance making them look like a flat, black, cut-out background when he finally returned to the little house. Near to town but not enough to be part of the bundle of houses and stores that made it up, the small farmhouse lay next to a line of forest that extended far up into the northern reaches of Canada. He would have stayed out longer but he wasn't that fond of the dark and although it wasn't late the sun set as early as four in the afternoon this time of year. When he entered into the relative warmth he felt his cheeks prickle and tingle and realized for the first time just how cold it was out there, it didn't matter to him though, he had always loved the snow and more than that simply loved being outdoors. A smile lit up on his flushed face when he saw his mother on a couch in the living room directly to the left of the foyer.
"Why do you go out in that horrid weather Matthieu?"
His mother never talked, it seemed to him that she only ever sang. The words seemed to flow together and tilt up and down with inflections that it was as if they told a story separate from their particular meanings. With her gesticulations to supplement this sing-talking every conversation was like a performance, and he was her biggest fan. French was, in his opinion, a much nicer language than the one spoken in school, and it was the one he had first learned. His mother once told him that his father was English but that didn't matter, he hardly remembered his father.
"I like it maman, is there food for us? Is John still here?"
His father, he was told, was a very powerful man until late, and the reason he was never around was because he was away on business. The last time he had seen his father Matthieu was two years old. Matthieu wondered how his father could find that much business to occupy his time when there was no business whatsoever to speak of all over town.
"Oui darling. In the oven"
She had meant the food then, nothing about John. He hoped John was still here. Times had been hard for years, Matthieu didn't know much about it, but he could tell there was no work. His mother had once held a job as secretary in a government building due to her, albeit reluctant, bilingualism. That was years ago now, back in the 1920's when Matthieu was barely old enough to know that his life was good, then it was gone. Now he was almost ten years old, and he knew that when his mother had men around he had a place to stay and food to eat.
"Maman, what's going to happen if father ever comes back?"
Matthieu didn't know him enough to miss him, only enough to know that his father should be there. The men his mother sometimes entertained had only eyes and time for her. These men saved them for a brief moment and then his mother would grow bored, have another fling, there would be fight, and they would move in with another man. Matthieu's mother loved men, indiscriminately and with all her heart and as she was very beautiful, they loved her back.
"I hope he never does Matthieu. That horrible man. You know he left us here all alone? Well good I say! He didn't love us Matthieu he was awful to us. Left us up here in this frozen wasteland and took off south. He doesn't care enough to come back Matthieu, not about me and not about you. I'm glad of that darling, this way you can be all mine"
Matthieu thought that he was perhaps glad his father wasn't there after all. It was true that he had left them hardly with any money and certainly with nowhere to go.
"My child you are being even quieter than usual, come here so I can kiss you Matthieu"
He decided that all he needed was his mother and her beautiful song voice to make him happy. Even though she occasionally fell in to bouts of depression only supplemented by her constant need for intoxication and was constantly bringing back strange men this darkness only made her light seem more enticingly and invitingly bright.
Her breath smelling familiarly like wine she kissed his forehead and cheeks, he heard the door open again, assuming it could only be John, he smiled, content in his mothers loving embrace.
A/N: Thanks for reading that, also if you're interested all in update time don't worry, I am an unbelievable procrastinator in that things like this often take precedence over... my homework, say. Anyway at LEAST weekly. Secondly I won't ever hold off updating in hopes of getting more reviews. Frankly I would write till I was blue in the face even if no one did, and although I would GREATLY appreciate any review I won't hound you for it darlings.
If you're reading this, I hope you enjoyed it! And if not- pew! Pew! I wish it was Christmas.
