Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Seamus, however, is mine.
Rating: K+ (character death)
Summary: The Dominion of Newfoundland was once independent, with its own currency, anthem, and government. Then in 1949, it became part of Canada.
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Confederation
Low clouds hung in the sky, painting it from horizon to horizon with a bland grey as undifferentiated as the darker blue-grey of the calm waters in the harbor. Along the wharf, ships drifted at their moorings, giving off an air of being asleep. It was an air shared by the quiet city rising up the slopes above the harbor, the closely-packed multi-coloured houses looking faded in the dull light. At the edge of the harbor, two figures rested on a worn, unpainted bench, as silent as the streets behind them.
The first was a young man, looking perhaps seventeen in age. Ash-blonde locks fell in gentle waves to thin shoulders, and a single errant curl fell in front of violet eyes behind square-framed spectacles. Resting his chin lightly on the head of the small polar bear seated in his lap, the lad's posture was one of melancholy, accentuated by the worry in his expression as he stared out across the water.
In contrast, his companion gave off an air of ease and being at peace with the world. Messy red-brown hair fell from an old felt cap to frame a weather-worn face, and a scraggly beard rested below a gently smile. Eyes the colour of the ocean in front of them showed no hint of concern as the seemingly twenty-something man reclined on the bench, one arm resting on a crossed leg and the other laid along the back of the seat behind the younger male.
It was the blonde who broke the silence first.
"So it's tomorrow, then."
The brunette gave a nod of confirmation.
"Are...are you ready?"
An inclination of the head. "All the paperwork is done, the legal preparations made, it should all come into effect tomorrow."
A frown. "That's not what I meant."
The brunette gave a sidelong glance at his friend. "Of course I'm ready. Why wouldn't I be? Tomorrow's a big day that's been a long time coming."
The blonde's grip tightened on his bear. "But it's...you're..."
Shifting to sit more upright, smile fading, the older man regarded his companion. "Matthew...what's bothering you?"
Matthew grimaced. "I just...don't know how you can be so calm about this, Seamus. We're talking about your lands here."
Seamus closed his eyes thoughtfully for a moment. "I didn't see much point in getting worked up, since I don't have a say in it myself. It was my people's decision."
"But I thought the voting was nearly evenly split?"
A sigh. "It was. But even though my people refuse to admit it, I think this outcome was inevitable. If not tomorrow, then a decade or two down the road."
Violet eyes regarded him with surprise. "What do you mean?"
Seamus smiled sadly. "I mean...my entire economy is too dependent on external influences. We survive by the grace of god and the whimsy of nature and every ripple in the politics and finances of other countries can spell fortune or disaster for us. Maybe we'd suffer another devastating economic collapse, or perhaps we'd simply fade into being a distant chunk of Great Britain, since my people are led by a commission instead of responsible government...but one way or another, my Dominion's days were numbered."
Matthew's eyes widened in shock, but Seamus forestalled any denials. "It's the truth, Matthew. No sense in denying it. In a way, I'm grateful for this outcome, since I know you'll look after my people well."
The blonde trembled slightly as he absorbed the full import of those words. "Don't...don't talk like that! Nothing's going to happen to you!" He grabbed the older man's arm, curling slender fingers tightly into the dark green of the wool sweater. "You'll still be here to look after them! "
With a sigh, the brunette wrapped his free arm around the smaller male, pulling him close. Matthew clung to him, breathing in the scent of the man he considered part of his complex family. "You can't go...please don't go..."
Seamus ran weathered hands gently over the boy's silky hair. "I'm sorry..."
Matthew whimpered, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "Please stay...I know it can happen, remember Prussia? It's been 15 years since his country was dissolved, and he's still here...Maybe you won't go either..." His soft voice held an edge of desperation.
"I know, Matt...we can always hope, but we'll never know until tomorrow."
A soft sound of acknowledgement. "If...if you can...if get to choose to stay or go..." the blonde's voice was barely audible. "...please promise me you'll stay..."
Seamus placed a light kiss on the top of his little brother's head. "I promise."
They stayed like that for a while, the older's arms wrapped around the younger's thin form. The tide slowly rose, then fell, and eventually began to rise again as they passed the hours with idle chatter about trivial things, like the shades of paint on the boats along the wharf and whether or not birds and whales gossip to each other about the humans they see watching them. They lapsed into silence again as the setting sun broke through the clouds to turn the harbour a beautiful, shimmering gold.
No matter how they willed the time to pass slowly, dusk came all too swiftly. Venus's soft glow was beginning to call out her entourage when they finally rose from the bench, still pressed against each other, and began the walk along the wharf to the small house that clung to the rocky hillside near the gap in the hills that lead to the open ocean. The two young men lingered a long moment in the doorway to watch the star-flecked sky.
A lingered-over cup of tea at the ancient oak table. But they could not stall forever. Reluctantly, both retired to bed, one in the master bedroom and the other to the guest room. Sleep claimed both as the moon rose.
Violet eyes opened to the sun high in the sky. As Matthew propped himself up to rub the sleep from his lashes, his gaze landed on the calendar across the room. The last day was red-circled. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze.
Then he no longer in bed, but found himself catapulting down the hallway, his mind a jumble of half-formed thoughts and prayers and denials. Then fumbling with a doorknob polished to slipperyness from long use. Then the sturdy oak door was giving way as he half-ran, half-fell into his brother's room.
"No..."
A rumpled, empty bed lay in front of him.
"Please no..."
The old felt hat lay on the dresser. His brother wouldn't have gone anywhere without it.
His knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor. Seamus's lands were part of Canada now, the blonde could feel them as surely as he could feel Manitoba, or the Yukon. The province of Newfoundland and Labrador. And his brother, the Dominion of Newfoundland, was gone.
Matthew, the personification of Canada, wept.