Brothers
You run away
You could turn and stay
But you run away
From me
"No."
The word was as cold as the winter snow, but Alfred wasn't going to accept it. "No" was not a word that heroes took for an answer. Not in the very least. Especially not from those who they were saving. Especially not from the damsels.
"Mattie, maybe you should think about this..."
"My answer is no, Alfred. I'm not joining your 'efforts' because I'm happy where I am. I'm happy and so are my people. I thought you of all out of everyone would accept that."
Happy? Pfft! Yeah, right. Matthew was not happy! Maybe his people were "content" but it wouldn't last for very long. Alfred needed to sweep in there now before things got bad for his brother! Besides, Matthew at his side would definitely be a blow to Arthur.
If only Matthew wasn't so naive and stubborn.
I tried to be your brother
But you cried and ran for cover
"Listen, Mattie." America's voice itself became harsher, colder and there was a brief flash of something in his brother's eyes.
Canada didn't budge, nor did his stoic facial expression change. That didn't change the fact though, that deep down, he was scared. He knew in his heart what he wanted – what his people wanted, but America was so stubborn and so blind at the same time.
England was good to Canada and because of this, Canada was happy. If America – Alfred – couldn't see this, then Canada – Matthew – had every right to be concerned.
"You'll save yourself a lot of trouble if you'd only just -"
"No."
The North American's violet hued eyes flitted upwards to meet with his physically older brother, who's own expression had become more clouded and frustrated than before.
"Now leave, Alfred. Arthur will be back quite shortly and if you're still here by then -"
"Why the hell won't you join me? Is it because you're still all scrawny and afraid of me?" Alfred's voice, or simply the mere volume of it made the smaller nation flinch.
America's eyes widened briefly as Matthew's eyes met with his again, the clear concern in them – the moistness of them – wilting his resolve of force. At least for the time being.
"Fine. I'll leave. But this isn't over, Canada!"
I made a mess who doesn't?
I tried my best but it wasn't enough
As if watching one brother leave wasn't bad enough, Matthew – Canada – was again forced to watch another back turn on him. He stood in the doorway, unaware that the tears that he had practically been fighting the entire time were now streaming little river's down his pale cheeks. He looked even younger at that moment – as though his height of a ten year old wasn't bad enough. The fact that he was now crying made him appear like such a toddler...
"...je suis désolé."
He really had messed this up. Simply saying no could be such a horrible thing to some relationships. Especially regarding one's brother who was so used to hearing the word yes from everyone. Matthew himself had been quite inclined to say yes all those times ago and perhaps it was that which really ruined everything.
He had tried his best to hold everything together and now that he thought about it, it was a miracle that he'd lasted this long.
His best wasn't enough.
You run away
You could turn and stay
But you run away
From me
All of Alfred's letters to Matthew - each and every one of them – were returned with the same answer.
All of America's letters to Canada – each and every one of them – were returned with the same answer.
No.
Damn it! He'd even mentioned that France was helping him! That Francis, Matthew's precious 'big brother' was on Alfred's side of this entire matter! That France and Francis alike wanted America and Alfred to be free from stupid England and stupid Arthur's taxes and laws!
Slamming his hands onto the oak desk, the blonde growled as the wood splintered and protested to the violence.
Fine! He was going to play this way, was he? Well, Alfred would teach him a lesson he'd never forget! And then Matthew would definitely see that America was so much stronger than Canada and England combined and then be by his side!
Matthew shouldn't have turned his back on Alfred. Canada shouldn't have turned his back on America.
He shouldn't have run away because all Alfred – all America was trying to do was save him. That's what big brothers do. They protect and rescue little brothers from dangerous and unjust things. Like the English and taxes...and stupid laws.
You run away
You could turn and stay
But you run away
From me
The news of France joining America was enough to at least distract Canada (and Matthew) from the growing pains. Honestly, they were getting to be quite aggravating – especially with all that was going on. This entire thing was going to get entirely out of hand, the North American nation reasoned, lips pursed as he tried to avoid looking at the letter in his hand – why he hadn't put it down yet, he didn't know.
"Alfred..."
This was really what it was turning to?
Brother against brother? Be it Arthur against Alfred or Alfred against Matthew, it didn't matter.
Brothers shouldn't fight because someone would get seriously hurt and Matthew was scared to know who because in this scenario, it could and would go in the way everyone least expected.
Honestly, though, what scared Matthew most was that he didn't even know what was most expected in this scenario. Alfred was brash and he was physically stronger than Matthew himself was.
"Why the hell won't you join me? Is it because you're still all scrawny and afraid of me?"
Yes. Yes, Alfred. That's exactly what it was.
Matthew – Canada – was afraid that because of his frailty, joining Alfred – America – would only lead to losing himself. There was no guarantee of eventual freedom if he joined his brother's side, but England – Arthur...Matthew – Canada – felt safe there under the Englishman's wing and roof. It felt right and it felt as though that even though it would take time, he would eventually be free.
Alfred, though, was too caught up in his own world to see from Canada's perspective. He always had been.
Perhaps that was what hurt the most – that even at such a crucial time, Alfred would much rather go to war than listen to what someone else had to say.
"Mr Williams!"
Broken from his reverie and thoughts, the blonde turned his head, his eyes wide.
"O- oh no..."
I'll give you something to cry about
One thing you should try it out
"Hah! Can't say that I'm surprised to see you here!"
His grin was undeniably the same, but so different.
"A- Alfred..."
Blue eyes gleamed as they stared down at the broken figure of his little brother, who honestly wasn't so little anymore. If anything, now the two of them would be equal height – if Matthew could stand up straight without writing in pain from the burns.
Flames danced around them and Alfred's grin widened because he could see the tears glistening in his brother's eyes again and that always meant that someone was going to break.
And it wasn't going to be Alfred.
"Look at you! You've gotten so big!"
Matthew let out a small whimper – it sounded absolutely pathetic and Alfred tried his hardest not to let himself feel guilty because in the long run, this would be the best because Matthew would be safe from taxes and the evils of the world because Alfred saved him.
"A- Alfred...Y- York..."
"Haha! I know, right? I personally think it looks a little better like this." He grinned faintly as the flames burned and flickered around them.
"It would've never compared to my capital anyway. Face it, Mattie, you're always second best to me. I'm just better and stronger and that's why I stand tall and you writhe on the ground."
Hold a mirror shoulder high
When you're older look you in the eye
When you're older look you in the eye
This was exactly what Matthew had been afraid of, but he honestly hadn't expected it to be like this. Alfred standing over him, that smug, cold expression, throwing all his fears at him as if it were nothing. All the fears Matthew told him over their years together...
Alfred used it all against him.
"You know, Mattie -" Alfred said, kneeling down beside his panting and squirming brother, trying not to take some pride in the entire thing because really this was his brother and he didn't want to see him in pain because of this.
Still, no pain no gain. Matthew wouldn't learn just how Alfred could protect him unless he suffered just a little bit.
Still, he briefly wondered if he'd gone too far after he said what he said after.
"- even if you don't join me, Arthur won't see you as Canada or Matthew. I mean, really? From what I've been hearing, when he's looked at you, he's called you by my name. He sees you as me, you know and over time it'll just get worse."
"Sh- shut up, Alfred..."
There was no bite to the tone – if anything it sounded as weak and Matthew looked. Only, the horrified and pained expression in his brother's eyes was worse than any tone of voice which could come from that pretty little mouth of his.
Alfred snorted lightly and stood, shrugging faintly.
"You'll see, you know. Canada will always be in America's shadow."
I tried but you tried harder
I lied but you lied smarter
It wasn't until a little after Alfred left and Matthew forced his tired, exhausted, in pain body into a seated position against a rather large rock that Arthur happened upon him. Green eyes were wide, concerned, and his arms were gentle as he scooped the colony up in them, rushing him to the nearest infirmary.
That was probably when the reality of what Alfred – America – had said sunk in. When Matthew had just awoke from a jolt of pain across his heart caused by his burn which was all that remained of York.
Arthur was by his side, completely conked out – probably from worrying himself half to death.
Okay, so Alfred was better than him at everything. Alfred was smarter, stronger, always so brave. It was obvious to him why Arthur was fighting so hard to keep him from leaving. Matthew knew he was only second best to that, but to hear Alfred just outright tell him...
That, now that infuriated Matthew. He had trusted Alfred to never use all those things against him. Matthew had trusted Alfred with those fears with the expectation that he'd guard them with his life and Alfred...no, America had to use them all against him just because Canada and his people didn't want to join his side?
"Ah, Matthew! My lad, thank the Lord that you're awake...Matthew?"
Furious violet eyes flickered to meet with Arthur's and the Englishman couldn't help, but feel that while he had been involuntarily asleep, he had clearly missed something. He also couldn't help, but feel slightly perturbed by that look because he recognised it.
It was the look which desired nothing, but vengeance.
You made me guess who was it?
I did my best but it wasn't enough
Alfred could only stare, one hand gripping the blossoming burn across his heart, blue eyes wide and tearful. The once beautiful building was going to be reduced to ashes and Alfred could do nothing about it, but stare at the man who had done this.
"Arthur, you bastard!"
"That would be England to you, America." The Englishman's reply was short, cold, snarled.
Alfred noted absently that he didn't sound proud in the least – between the pain and the anger – and something flickered beneath his eyes.
Realisation, because really, none of this made much sense.
"Who?"
"Me."
The response was immediate and Alfred was infuriated because he didn't get the answer he wanted.
This was when Arthur smirked. Green eyes flared and his face looked so dark and so, so, so, smug. Alfred hated that look.
"God damn it! Tell me who! Because I know it wasn't you!"
"Think a little harder. Doesn't any of this seem familiar to you, you big lug?"
The sarcasm in his tone didn't help Alfred's temper; it did give clarity though and that clarity all, but broke him.
"M- Mattie?"
"Canada." Arthur snapped in response, voice cold, harsh, firm.
Arthur – no, England's expression became extremely dark. His gaze was piercing, and Alfred resisted the urge to flinch, because reality was sinking in.
"You don't have the luxury of being on a first name basis with him any longer. His words, and mine."
You run away
You could turn and stay
But you run away
From me
It might as well have been the two brothers holding knives to each other's throats, only Matthew chose to hide behind Arthur instead of facing Alfred head on. So, it was like Arthur holding two knives to Alfred's throat whereas Alfred himself was merely armed with one blade. The odds would have been against him, if it weren't for his found allies.
"I had never expected petite Mathieu to have Arthur do the dirty work for him." Francis murmured offhandedly as he peered down at the bandaged Alfred.
The blonde remained silent at that and Francis sighed, azul eyes flickering towards the wall of the room.
"It may appear as though you have bitten off more than you could chew, non?"
"Like hell." Alfred responded firmly, eyes flashing furiously.
"I'm not surrendering because of this. I'm stronger than that and if Mat- Canada thinks that this will stop me, then he has another thing coming!"
It hurt. It hurt that Canada would rather burn his capital than simply join him and put all this pain aside. It hurt that Canada couldn't even do it himself, but could get England of all people to do it. Alfred was infuriated, sore, upset, but it simply motivated him more.
If Canada wanted to turn his back on him, fine. Alfred could win this thing without him anyway.
That's what he told himself.
It still didn't stop the pain.
(I tried to be your brother)
You could turn and stay
(You cried and ran for cover)
But you run away
(I made a mess who doesn't?)
From me
(I did my best)
Brothers fight all the time, but not like this. This was a battle that would change the course of history as they knew it. It was a battle which would spill blood. A battle which someone would win and someone would lose. A battle that which someone would end up in tears, covered in wounds that normally would prove to be fatal if they were human.
It was a battle that brothers were not meant to fight. It was a battle at which brothers were poised on opposite sides of the battlefield, ignoring the urge to turn and simply leave because they did not want to harm their kin. All the same, battles need to be fought. Battles need to be lost. Someone needs to cry and people need to die.
The world continues on, no matter the loser, no matter the winner. Life goes on and brothers on other ends of the world fight and sometimes kill each other in the process.
For Canada and America, things were not much different, though America would have felt much better if Canada had simply left this a fight between England and himself instead of joining in. It was like a stab in the heart to see his brother garbed in red, when he honestly should have been in blue and beside America, not England.
Hadn't America always looked out for him? He tried to, anyway. He had tried his very best, and this is where it got him? Facing both of his brothers now, not just the one he held a true grudge against.
"This is it, L'Amerique." France murmured from beside him, eyes not moving from England's because it was not a doubt at all that one of the only reasons he decided to help was because he wanted to kick England in the balls just once.
A light nod was the only response the Frenchman received, because even though America was excited, there was this sense of dread resting in his belly.
The same could be said for Canada, who – though he appeared stoic – was probably more worried than anything. Clearly, none of what he had done made any difference. Words didn't work, neither did retaliation. Perhaps this was simply the way it was to be, no matter how hard he was to try.
England, and America were to butt heads just as raging caribou and only one side would emerge victorious.
Canada would play little part in this, if any at all. He would more than likely end as a spectator than an actual fighter, but he was there nonetheless as backup for England as France was there as backup for America.
"Canada, stand your ground."
"Yes, Sir."
He wasn't turning his back on anyone, if anything, America was the one who turned his back on him. America was the one who used all of his secrets, all of his fears against him, so he deserved every ounce of thrashings he received.
Still, the thought of beating his brother didn't console him in the least.
Especially when it didn't happen.
That's not something to cry about
It's not something to lie about, ooh
Canada was left to take care of a sobbing, torn England when all was done and over with. He wanted to say that he took bitter pleasure in the fact that America would be spending his official first birthday on his own, but that would have been lying. Even after all of this time, after all he and America had done to each other, he couldn't wish the worst on his brother. York still burned his chest, the memories of America standing over him and saying everything Canada told himself every day still resounded in his head, but he couldn't hate his brother. Brothers always love each other, even at their worst because even though they hurt each other, there is this undeniable, unmistakeable bond there.
That bond was what made Canada somewhat happy that America got the freedom he had fought to achieve.
It was because of this that he would not cry about the loss. He would not cry, because even though he was scorched and beaten and sore, just like England, at least America got what he wanted. Canada was able to have his own choice as well, even though he had to do some manipulating to get it.
Nonetheless, even though he hadn't seen his brother and even though he didn't know when he would see his brother next, he at least felt the mutual agreement was there.
You run away
(I tried to be your brother)
You could turn and stay
(You cried and ran for cover)
But you run away
(I made a mess, who doesn't?)
From me
(I did my best but it wasn't enough)
Brothers are brothers through and through. Born as brothers and die as brothers. Canada and America are no different.
Brothers fight, makeup, and then fight again. It is as the cycle goes around and around and around, never ending.
Brothers quarrel and don't see eye-to-eye because their personalities are simply that different from one another.
Brothers fall apart and then come together only to fall apart again.
Brothers are always brothers and though they may hurt each other at times, though they may turn on each other and cut each other down with harsh words, or punch them out with their bare fists, they are brothers to the end.
America would not listen to reason. Canada would not budge.
Capitals burned.
A battle was lost.
Brothers were separated for long periods of time.
Nonetheless, the agreement was reached without having to look each other in the eye or say a single word.
Because brothers, though they fight, argue, kick, and scream at one another, they seem to always know what the other wants.
America and Canada are no different.
The act was in fact, more simple for them as they wanted the same thing.
To be brothers again.
Alrighty, so that's the end of that. Now, normally I don't put my author's note and commentary at the end of the fic, but I figured I'd try it out with this one. This is my first songfic when working with Hetalia and I think I did rather well.
The song used is You Run Away by the totally and completely Canadian band The Barenaked Ladies. Seriously awesome music there, folks. You should listen to them more often if you only have one or two of their songs and if you haven't even heard of them, I pity you.
Okay, so for notes.
I totally screwed up my facts and thanks to all those who corrected me because I suck XD Either way, this was written more out of fun than historicalness, so...yeah, haha. So terribly sorry -_-
And that's about it...yeah.
Inspiration came from the song and a discussion I had with KitaKlaw. Again, read her Hetalia works if you love the historical stuff. Amazing, folks.
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