He's really putting himself on the line for her, he knows.
But he doesn't really care. So he tells himself, at least.
The truth is, he wants to protect her. Call it hopeless romanticism—he definitely read too much of France's stupid love poetry when he was a kid—but England is convinced that part of being a true gentleman means caring for the ladies and charming them.
Although hunkering down beside Belgium behind a pile of wreckage in war-broken Leuven while fighting off Germany doesn't strike him as charming. Not when both of their lives are in danger.
"I'll be fine," she's saying, grinning and crossing her arms over her chest, a grenade, of all things, in her hand. "I'll be off and back before they know what hit them."
"No." When she frowns, England backtracks. "I mean, just wait. Just a bit longer. There's a bunch of soldiers out there, you see, and—"
"You think they'll shoot me?"
England swallows. It's one thing when he says it, but quite another in her voice.
"C'mon, England." She sits down next to him, and for a strange second, he just wants to take her hand. Screw the war, screw Schlieffen, screw everything because, damn it all, with that smile she just gave him, he's forgotten everything, his heart crashing and exploding in his chest. "I'll be fine, really. They can't get me."
And he wants to tell her that no, they have already. Doesn't she see the bruises on her arms and the blood on her face?
But he says nothing. He wants to grab her shoulders and tell her to stop. He may even want to embark on her suicide mission—so he considers it, at least—in her place. Wrench the grenade from her hands and blow up the German supplies for her.
Isn't that what he came to do? To save her, to guard her, to fight for her?
He entered this whole damned war for her.
But, he thinks as in wonder he watches her run from their hiding place—taking the time to give him a wink and a smile and an oh please England dear you're worrying about nothing—maybe she's strong enough to take care of herself.
It only makes him love her all the more. Much as he may hate himself for letting her go.
Historical notes:
Only thing to understand here is that England didn't enter WWI until neutral Belgium was attacked as part of the German-conceived Schlieffen Plan. Also, Belgian civilians who rebelled against or attacked the Germans were usually shot on sight (apparently. A lot of information on the "Rape of Belgium" is a bit dubious because so much of it was caught up in British propaganda). Hence why Belgium's attempt to blow up supplies is so dangerous.
Although this was originally meant as a little foray into an obscure pairing that I rather like (though I prefer RomaBel and Spain/Belgium), it turned into a character study of England, to an extent. I realized that England has a need to have people depending on him. He desperately needs people to take care of, to protect. That's part of why America's independence and Belgium's self-sufficiency hurt him so much. Another part of that pain is his own need to depend on people. He doesn't like to admit it, but he does need people. He needs not only to love but to be loved. Some of his main character struggles are caught up in this conflict of needs. (And in his own inability to admit that he does need to be loved, lol.)