Right... Disclaimer: If Hetalia belonged to me, it would have a lot more blood and fighting. so i don't own it.
The Sky Turned Red: Chapter 1
The wasteland, which was once the ground, was the man's only company as he moved. His feet flailing as they slipped on gravel and liquid (sticky, wet, and red so red)… with a gasp he pulled himself together. If he fell here, all would come to naught. For the others, for himself, for the past, and for the future they had dreamed of. He. Had. To. Live.
Arthur glanced around; he still could not believe that Alfred had done this. That he had this in him: this capacity for utter destruction that Arthur had seen released only once before, on Kiku. Still. Hadn't Alfred wept bitterly in Arthur's arms when he had done so? Had he not begged for the ability to take it back? When had he changed so much? This, however, was nothing less than a declaration of war. The world would once again have to choose a side. Yao or Alfred, China or America and Alfred had made his intentions clear with his attack on Russia, "join me or fall by my hand". Poor Ivan. For years Arthur had been by Alfred's side. He was his (friend? Father? Brother?) ally, but this time, he was sure that he (Arthur) could not condone this destruction.
Arthur would not ally with America this time. He needed to warn… who? Who was dear enough to Arthur that he would risk his life, lands, and people to warn? Unbidden America's face popped into Arthur's mind, and he brushed it away. Why should Arthur not shut his little island off from the world and plead neutrality? Why should he embroil himself in a battle that would gain him nothing but the pain of losing what he had? Suddenly, France's face came to mind, his face from Dunkirk, from Normandy, from too-long-ago-to-ever-mention-but-still-there. The smiles, the laughter, the pain, the hatred, the bitterness, the betrayal, sweet-and-sour in Arthur's mind. for where was England without France? Spain's face took France's place, Spain, his friend? His enemy? Both perhaps, and neither. They had been enough to one another to accept that life would never allow them to be free. Spain who sailed against him on the seas, who was a good lover but a better enemy, who smiled as he beat Arthur and smiled as he was beaten. Who shrugged his shoulders and declared that this was life. The victories were sweet memories for Arthur, but he even welcomed his own small defeats. He could hardly let Spain die; it would take the sweetness out of life!
Then there was Prussia, who had been there a long time. Prussia who had fought beside him in the Crusades, who had allied with him after… Prussia who always understood, who had given everything he had to save his brother and was barely clinging to existence by sheer strength of will. Prussia who would fight till the end to protect his brother, like England (Arthur) should, like Arthur had done before. He couldn't lose Prussia, not now. Finally, there was Canada, who was closest to America. Who was in danger. Little Matthew who he had raised, whom he had loved desperately, and cared for as much as Alfred. Last, Arthur thought of Russia, who had lost both his sisters with his defiance of Alfred, who was lying in a coma bombed out of his mind. Ivan, who was scared of being alone, who was scary and powerful and related to the devil, but just wanted to be loved.
Damn. He would have to fight wouldn't he? It would have been so bloody easy to hide and let someone else take responsibility, but he loved them all too much to let that happen. His brothers were going to murder him for this, but they would fight. Damn damn damn. He was going to war. Against Alfred. Again. This time, he would not be allowed the luxury of throwing his weapons down and walking away. This time it was do or die. Kill or be killed. Damn it all Alfred. Why?
A/n: i'd really appreciate reviews for this story. it's my first in this fandom.