AN: Tentative title, if you have a better idea as it goes please suggest it. I do not own Hetalia... probably a good thing at that... Oddly enough I did dream this fic with myself in the dead brother's role... I do apologize for how the characterization may be off, as I've never written for America. Unsure if I will write the rest of it. Please review if you'd like to see what led up to this scene.
Warnings: Character Death, future chapters will likely contain cursing and violence
PROLOGUE
It had been weeks since England had clutched him to his chest, after breaking his nose. Now the break had healed without even a trace of the former break. He prayed for that lingering pain to return. Any of the physical from his visits from the others…. The lush forest was a soothing and wet green. Animals moved freely and unseen about him. The peace fought to seep into his bones, but he fought what he never deserved. His eyes lifted to the darkening Canadi-Northern Canadian Provincial States' sky. The air was different; the colors were different. Clearer and brighter. Purer. Even after the disappearance. That's what the Nations had called it. The kinder ones; the ones who pitied him. There weren't many of those, but perhaps the few that existed were thanks to the letters his brother had sent out. Of course those that read them mostly were the ones that hated and rightly so, but they would respect the wishes and memory of his brother. The last hostile actions seemed to cease quickly with the meeting's letter. France and oddly enough Switzerland had teamed up to keep the rest of the world from tearing through his Father's almost reluctant protection to get to him. He wish they hadn't, that he had been able to join Ma-Him. Then again, the words from Ukraine of all Nations truly seemed to fit the best for his punishment.
"D-don't touch him! He doesn't deserve to be with Matvey… not after this…. Just leave him to himself. We cannot hurt him more than he can..."
With a shudder, two dirty hands dug their heels into deep sky blue eyes. He didn't deserve this. This sight. The resources. The peace. These people and their land. Why had he taken them? Forced him to join? That's what he had done, right? He couldn't take no and kept pushing… if he had listened… maybe…? The black claw twisted in his gut, creating a nauseas burning. He wished it would tear him apart over and over, but it never would. He deserved worse than this guilt and pathetic remorse, but it never would come. A light trickle of resentment from the newer States was present, but never as intense as it ought to. It barely registered an inch of how the Southern States' anger coursed through in the past… Was this part of his punishment? Maybe… God or whatever had made this… this was his lot? To want punishment and torment, but be spared the consequence of his crime? It was an injustice that never ought to exist. His heart burned in an icy grip that hinted at his hope that General Winter would soon come and rip it in compensation for the child lost to him. Gagging at the thought, he turned and ran through the growingly familiar land. Running North to try and escape himself. Running to beg the General to take his heart out. Like Ivan's had been, though the other had gotten it back.
It was hours before even his Nation's body began to tire and a raised root snared his ankle making it sing with a loud crack. The burning of the cold earth and stones tore into his cheek and chin. The scrapes and gashes were minor for a Nation. They would be gone by the end of the night, though he wished he would be able to keep them. Motionless the largest Nation in the world let himself lie in the soil of a lost brother. A murdered brother. One he had killed. The United States of Northern America closed his eyes.
