Twiddling his thumbs, Britain gazed out of the porthole with furrowed brows. The sound of the sea was so comforting, now that they were away from the threat of Ludwig's U-boats shooting them down. However, the surrounding greyness was an unpleasant reminder that they were still at war, and things seemed bleak for him.
It was 1915, and so far, things weren't going as well as they had liked over at his place. The cost of the Great War was staggering, and if they didn't make a breakthrough in France soon, this war of attrition was going to keep costing him dearly, not just financially, but with the lives of the thousands of brave people fighting for him. Arthur placed his face in his hands and breathed deeply, trying to compose himself from breaking down into tears; he had to be strong, or at least present himself as such. This was Alfred he was dealing with, after all. Showing any signs of weakness was unacceptable, especially not as he was growing so powerful in such a short time…
His mind trailed of as memories of a battlefield surfaced in his mind. This wasn't northern France though… or Belgium for that matter. No, he didn't need the lack of modern weaponry to tell him that, he would recognise this place anywhere. It was Alfred, it was raining torrentially, and they were fighting with their all… no holding back.
He gasped for air as he snapped back to reality. Feeling the cold on his face, he touched his cheek to see that tears had been flowing mercilessly down his face, and that he was shaking with emotion. Furious with himself, he turned up his nose and wiped his face dry, cursing his former charge with the worst profanities he could think of. Why the hell did he have to rely on that git anyway? He certainly didn't want to; he was the United Bloody Kingdom! His empire covered a third of the world's surface, he wasn't called Great Britain for nothing. But his bosses… well, the government of his country wasn't that great. They were spending millions of pounds on the war, and all for what seemed like nothing, seeing as his men were still stuck in those muddy pits of death fighting those damn Krauts. Traditionally, his government always tried to 'balance the budget' so to speak, making sure they didn't spend beyond their means. Instead, they abandoned that method and decided to borrow from his people and from neutral countries. He could feel his condition getting worse as his national debt increased by 1,200 per cent, and he found himself having to rush away to throw up more frequently.
It wasn't like he had any choice though; because of the attacks on shipping, vital cargoes were lost at sea, making trading through the usual routes not an option. In the end, he had no choice but to rely on the growing economic power of the United States. And so, as the ship trundled across the Atlantic Ocean, Arthur Kirkland sat out the rest of the journey hating himself, Germany and that American wanker.
My first Hetalia fanfiction! I'm having fun writing this, it's the only thing that makes this Unit of History bearable, the fact that there's the occasional opportunity for USUK =w=;; Please review, it would make me really happy to read what you guys think!
Reviews are love!