Hello, readers! This is my first fanfic EVER! Yays! ^^ This was fueled by Easter candy, and grain pie. (Dont know what that is? LOOK IT UP! XD) Hope the characters arent too OOC here, but, whatever, here we go!
*Yanks Gilbert in front of the screen *
Pop: GIIILBERT, DO THE DISCLAIMER PLEEEASE!
Gil: Why? Im too awesome for Disclaimer thingies I dont have anything to do with the story!
Pop: Holds out beer =_= Hm? How bout that disclaimer, now?
Gil: OOOOK! Pop-Goes-the-Prussia, does not own Hetalia, if she did, I wouldn't be here. Wouldn't that suck for you
Warnings: Some Gore n stuff in later chapters, Historical Inaccuracy, Horrible grammar, VEEERY slight yaoi, if you even want to call it that its more like brotherly huggish stuff XD
Please, Enjoy! :P
Setting: Conference room: Paris, France September 7, 1940.
September 7, 1940, was not a good day for Arthur Kirkland. Though the small Englishman wouldn't normally be pegged as your happy-go-lucky guy, the dark, depressing aura that surrounding him just didn't suit him. Blank, once gleaming, emerald eyes were rooted to a single spot on the long mahogany table, which was surrounded by arguing people. His eyes hadnt left the spot since the meeting started. Arthur was staring at the place once occupied by Alfred. F. Jones.(All the countries had set aside a place or him at each meeting) This would be the fourth time that he had spent September 7th alone, without the warm, beaming smile, and ever-present laughter of a certain American, only to find himself missing the extravagant, pompous, and hero-centric ideas of the handsome, young blonde.
Flashback to Four Years Ago
Setting: A hospital September 7 1936, the height of Great Depression
"Al? Alfred?" Arthur called out, tears streaming down his face, Alfreds cold hand in his. If Al sees me like this... Getting worried, he calls out, "Alfred! Speak to me!" The hospital room was filled with the stale air of silence, only to be broken by Alfreds ragged breathing. After some attempts at bringing words to the surface, Arthur finally got an answer. "Ar...tie?" Though the reply was almost nonexistent, Arthur understood it perfectly. "Yes, lad, Im here" When he said that, a cold, clammy hand gripped his own. His whispers almost seemed lost on the cold body of the man before him, already resembling the corpse it will inevitably become. "Would you...say...", his voice hitched as he broke into a fit of coughing. All Arthur could do was rub his knobby back, hoping to take some of the pain away
It was amazing how much pain, and suffering changes a person Artie was devastated to see a broken Alfred when this whole economy ordeal began. He just collapsed, literally, in a Conference, and was never seen out of a hospital bed again.
Forming his final words, Alfred finished his sentence "Would you say... That I... became a hero?" With those final words, Death took Alfred Frederick Jones mind, and soul, leaving a hurt, now broken Arthur to mourn the loss of his beloved brother.
Present Day
"Would you say... he became... a hero?" Arthur repeated the words without realizing, his eyes still glued to the spot. A shocked group of arguing people turned to face the speaker. Those had been the first words Arthur had spoken in the meeting. "Mon cher... We all know he was a hero..." Francis Bonnefoy, a rival, friend, brother, and maybe something more, all rolled up into the package of a tall handsome French man, laid a comforting had on the others thigh, an action that would have normally been cursed at and swatted away, was just accepted and left alone. Not caring about his surroundings, and whose presence he was in, Arthur bowed his head, and beneath sandy fringe of hair, let out a silent wave of tears, spilling onto the Frenchmans hand, and the olive green material of his uniform.
While the others were silently getting over their shock, Feliciano Vargas, a sweet, Italian man broke the silence. Cocking his head to the side he said, "Vee~ Iggy, why are you crying?" In receiving no reply, ever-diplomatic Kiku Honda, let out a polite cough, signaling that the meeting was adjourned. It was pointless to continue anyway, there wasn't a shred of sanity in any of it. Trying to be as quiet as possible, everyone had pushed back their chairs, and were making their way to the doors. A loud crash cut through the silence, a chair was turned on its side, having been upset by a particular young, sailor hat wearing, slightly annoying principality. The loud noise seemed to break Arthur out of his reverie. Seemingly noticing Francis hand for the first time, he swatted it away, and letting out the expected string of English curses, "You bloody wanker, get your frog paws off of me!" Pushing his own chair over, he stormed through the doors, leaving a stunned, and confused league of nations to chatter over the recent events.
"Vee~?" Inquired an innocent Feliciano. Felicianos twin brother, Lovino, said the next comment, contrasting his own in so many ways. "Ahh that moody crap-eating bastardo probably PMSing or something..."
"Lovi~, dont say that!"
"Why? Its true!.. And don't call me that!"
"Would you two please shut up!" Ludwig asked not so politely, whacking Lovi upside on the head.
"Potato bastardo!"
"What was that? Sorry, couldn-" Ludwigs sarcastic comeback was stopped short due to the piercing scream that could be heard from the hall.
Sorry~ ducks random objects being thrown at her I hate doing cliff hangers DX, especially bad ones ah well AAND I KNOW I STOLE AL'S LAST LINE FROM FFVII:CC (I'm not original.. deal with it XD) Please send reviews! Constructive criticism is ALWAYS welcome! Flames will be used to bake cookies for yours truly. I may do a prequel too about Alfred during the great depression depending on feedback n such... *Thinks wistfully*Tell me this, do you think I REALLY need to introduce everyone? It's kind of annoying =_= ah well I felt like this was kinda passive idk why sigh PLEASE REVIEWWWWWWW! ~Danke