Dirt. And trees. And leaves.
Leaves crackled as Matthew Williams, the personification of Canada or British North America, stumbled through the heavy woods. He should be trying to be quieter, but Matthew was tired after several days of travel. A musket lay on his shoulder, though he hoped to God that he wouldn't have to use it.
Matthew had never really seen war before. Sure, there had been the Revolutionary War a while back, but that was more of concern to his brother, America. Alfred hadn't been happy with taxes that Matthew had diligently chosen to pay. He remembered his brother coming in one day, demanding that Matthew join him in his fight for freedom. Matthew had declined. Arthur treated them well enough. Why was he so determined to leave?
Of course, the Revolutionary War had caused trouble for Matthew as well, but he hadn't really done much about it. It was Arthur that had suffered from the Revolutionary War, beat down and trodden upon. Matthew thought back to the day he'd found Arthur after the Treaty of Paris.
Matthew didn't visit Arthur's house often. Alfred didn't either, but Matthew did so less. Still, after the events that had happened yesterday...
"Damn him." The voice came from the next door down, the one that led to Arthur's study. Matthew made his way towards it cautiously. Peeking through the crack of the door, Matthew saw Arthur sitting at his desk, a bottle of cognac next to him.
"Damn him," Arthur repeated. He slammed his fist down on the table. "Goddamn it!"
Matthew didn't know how to comfort Arthur. Alfred had always been the one close to Arthur. Arthur barely noticed Matthew, barely cared about Matthew.
And suddenly, Matthew was angry at Alfred too. Because he hadn't stayed with them. Because he'd abandoned them and was selfish and left them and didn't care about them. If he had cared, he would've stayed, wouldn't he? He would've been here and Arthur would be okay and Matthew would be okay too...
There were tears in Arthur's eyes. The man took another swig of alcohol before coughing. God, Arthur was crying now.
"Alfred..."
His brother had left them and never looked back. Matthew hadn't even spoken to him since. Alfred refused to visit Arthur's home anymore and Arthur was too proud to check up on his former colony. He could do what he liked, Arthur had said once. He's not our business anymore.
Matthew wasn't angry at Alfred anymore, until the idiot had gone and freaking declared war on him. His own brother, trying to take his territory.
Matthew had been pissed. He wasn't about to let his brother just go and take what he liked. No, Matthew could defend himself, could defend his land.
Maybe it was just that Alfred was trying to lash out at Arthur, but why his brother held such a grudge against him Matthew didn't even know. He couldn't understand it. And why his brother would completely neglect his twin for the sake of getting to Arthur...that made Matthew angry inside.
And sad. But mostly angry.
Suddenly, to his right, a twig snapped. Matthew was instantly on the alert, his musket pulled in front of him. His eyes narrowed. Was the American army somewhere around? Matthew's men weren't anywhere near. Matthew had gone into the woods alone to be alone. Now, thinking of it, that was a stupid decision.
There was more crackling in the bushes and Matthew's fingers tightened on the trigger, the musket pointed in the direction the sound was coming from. A few seconds later, there was cursing, from a voice that sounded very familiar...
Matthew's finger faltered on the trigger for a second before he resumed his tense stance. There was no sound for a long time until suddenly, Matthew heard a branch snap behind him.
He whirled around to see a musket pointed at his face. Matthew's was snapping in place as well as he turned to face his hated brother.
"Matthew." Alfred's voice wasn't unkind or cold or even the slightest bit harsh like Matthew had taken to imagining it. It was simply even and steady. "What are you doing here?"
"You're on my territory." Matthew said, gritting his teeth.
"We've been here for a while," Alfred said easily. His musket was trained on Matthew's chest and Matthew's on his.
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Surprisingly, it was Alfred who lowed his gun first.
"Oh, c'mon, Mattie." There was a light, teasing tone to Alfred's voice that infuriated Matthew. "You don't really have it in you to shoot your brother, do you?" There was a cocky smile on Alfred's face.
"You underestimate me, Alfred." Matthew refused to shorten his name to Al, which he had affectionately called his brother for ages.
"Dude, chill." Alfred laughed. "Even Iggy couldn't shoot me."
That was the final straw. Matthew pulled the trigger. He pulled the musket sideways so that the bullet just missed his brother. But the shock on Alfred's face...
"You could've killed me!" Alfred protested. His musket was up again now, though not pointed at Matthew.
"I would've killed you." There was no doubt in Matthew's statement and there was no doubt that Alfred believed him.
"Matthew," Alfred begged. "Please, don't do this. It won't help."
Matthew stayed silent.
"You could just join me!" Alfred pleaded. "We could be bros again, best buds, remember?" He tried to flash one of his winning smiles at Matthew, whose expression stayed cold. "My army's only a little aways, together we could shove Iggy's arrogance up his—"
"I will not."
Alfred shook his head. "Bro, you don't understand!" Matthew grew angrier with every single word that came out of Alfred's mouth. "We could be together again, you could be independent of Iggy, we could be family—"
"Family?" Matthew yelled. Alfred flinched visibly at his normally quiet brother's tone. "Family? And what would you know of family, Alfred? What the hell would you know about family?"
"I know that—"
"No, screw you!" Alfred's eyes were wide now. He looked terrified. "You don't know shit about family!" Matthew screamed. He didn't know why Alfred had affected him in this way, why he was so pissed and angry at his brother.
"Family doesn't leave! Family doesn't abandon all they've got when times get tough!" There were angry tears in the corner of Matthew's eyes but he ignored them. "Family sticks with you! Family doesn't judge you or try to use you! Family doesn't turn their back on one another!"
He laughed, a cold, high-pitched laugh. "What would you know of family, Al?" Alfred took a step back at the nickname. "What would you know? Because all you've done is leave it behind. All you've done is stab it in the back. Have you even thought about us? Have you even thought about Arthur? Did you even care?" Alfred opened his mouth to speak. "No, don't answer that. You didn't care in the Revolutionary War when you went and rebelled. You didn't care when you declared war on my territory. And you still. Don't. Care."
Matthew took a step towards Alfred, who seemed frozen in place. "You didn't care when Arthur fell to his knees because he couldn't bear to put a bullet in your head. You didn't care when he started breaking down and crying because he'd realized you were gone. You didn't care when he'd shut himself in his room after talking with his commanders because he was heartbroken." With every word, Matthew took a step in Alfred's direction. His brother flinched and moved away from Matthew. "You didn't care when I was alone with Arthur. You didn't care when he didn't give a crap about me now that you were gone." With each sentence, Matthew's voice rose in fury. "You didn't care when you left our family because of your own stupid selfishness."
"What about our family?" Matthew shouted at his brother. "What about Arthur? What about me? What about us?"
"Matthew, I just wanted..."
Matthew sneered. "You just want everything, Alfred. You just want goddamn everything. You don't care what anyone else cares about or wants or needs. As long as you get what you want, you're happy. Arthur wanted family and happiness and things were fine until you fucking screwed up. Are you happy now?"
Alfred held up his hands, as if to ward off an invisible blow. "I was just trying to do what I thought was right," Alfred whispered.
What he thought was right. Maybe, on a good day, Matthew would've listened. He would've heard his brother out. But Matthew was tired of Alfred. Tired of having to remedy Alfred's mistakes. Tired of always being second best, the lesser of the two. Tired of having to think for the two of them.
He was tired of his brother. Brothers were bound together. Always. Forever. You couldn't decide you didn't have a brother when you wanted to. Certainly, you could try. But it wasn't like you could end a brotherhood the way you could end a friendship. Matthew wished he could. It would be easier, to forget his brother, to forget that they were and had been anything but enemies.
Matthew lowered his gun. They were brothers. He wouldn't shoot. In the end, he couldn't shoot. Like Arthur. They were family. They would always be.
Alfred looked surprised, but relieved. He sat up, but before he could say a word, Matthew cut him off.
"We're still family, whether you like it or not. We've always been family. We'll always be family."
Alfred smiled. "That's what I—"
"But," Matthew continued, ignoring his brother, "we're not together anymore. I don't think we ever will be." Alfred's smile faltered. "You made it clear you didn't want us. But let me tell you something."
Matthew breathed in deeply and he took a step towards his brother. He pressed his face up until he was directly in front of Alfred. "I don't want you back either. This is my territory. You're not taking it. You're never taking it. You can't win everything, Alfred. And this war? This is my war."
Matthew straightened. His anger was gone now. Now, he was just sad. Sad, and maybe beginning to regret the words he had said, yet not enough for him to take them back.
"I'm winning this war," Matthew said. He slung his musket onto his back. "Goodbye."
The year was 1812. We were brothers. We would always be brothers.
Just not the same way anymore.
Author's Note:
So this is my first shot a historical Hetalia fanfic, so please do correct me if I got anything seriously wrong.
A couple of notes...
In case it wasn't obvious (I really hope this isn't the case), this fanfic is concerning the War of 1812. Canada is not an actual place yet (though it was referred to as Canada) and is in actuality known as British North America. It was split into two sections, Upper and Lower Canada. Both were central targets for the United States at this time, particularly Upper Canada, which is probably where this story takes place. While not completely certain, it is widely believed that the annexation of Canada was the great motivator for the War of 1812.
There is no clear winner for the War of 1812 and is regarded as a military stalemate. However, since the United States did not successfully annex Canada in any way or form, Matthew's statement about winning the war did come true. The anger that Matthew felt is a reflection of the animosity developed by Canadians towards the Americans during this time.
Now onto the fanfic itself...
This fanfic is set at an arbitrary point in the war. I'm thinking probably in the middle of the War, maybe prior to the Burning of Washington. However, the date is hardly important. What I really wanted to reflect in this fanfic was the animosity that Matthew felt towards his brother after the Revolutionary War. Matthew had been abandoned and ignored, left with a caretaker that only favored his brother. It's not unlikely that he was angry. Plus, writing angry Matthew is always fun for me. Please do tell me if either of them are too out of character though.
I used human names because they just seem to work better in my mind. Also, I'd like to think that Matthew and Alfred were close prior to the War and would've used their human names to address each other. I did write most of this fanfic while I was half-asleep, so forgive me for any discrepancies.
The Treaty of Paris is the treaty that ended the Revolutionary War.
The War of 1812 really intrigues me in general. It's still a unifying event in Canada and ranked highly as a reason for their nationalism. It really bonded Canada together against the United States. Personally, I think of it as more of a Canadian victory than an American one, but I suppose that depends on how you read it. I also find it interesting how things changed afterwards, with the remaining problems after the Revolutionary War being sorted out and peaceful relations beginning between the United States and England. There's also the thought that the War of 1812 could have been completely avoided through diplomacy. But ah, that's history for you. We always seem so much more idiotic when looking back.
Sorry for the long author's note. Hopefully this story wasn't too terrible. Thanks for reading, and please review!