Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Here's a small Easter gift to you. Hope you enjoy!
"Being defeated is often a temporary condition. Giving up is what makes it permanent." –Marilyn vos Savant
It was heart-wrenching having to stand by and watch his brother fall into a civil war, but Matthew Williams was assured by his leaders and elders that it was a phase.
"He is only, what, three hundred years old? A second civil war should be enough to teach that Amerique a thing or two about the real world!" Francis had laughed. It was clear that he had no desire to aid the ailing country; he was probably still hurt over the fact that Alfred's country had refused to help him in his revolutionary war, though France had helped theirs.
"I'll be bloody damned, but the frog's right. Alfred ought to be mature by the end, surely." Arthur had drawled while sipping his tea. His country was recovering from a recession, and so was in no position to be sending over troops and supplies to an otherwise largely debtor nation that was just getting deeper and deeper in the red.
Matthew had just nodded and clutched onto Kumajiro, and was reduced to watching live coverage on this war, which he had on every single television he owned for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. So it was on January 13th, 2069 that he found the final outcome of the civil war.
"After thirteen years of bloodshed and war, the United States has come to its end." Matthew watched as the news brought up clips from their field reporters, each video showing devastated buildings, destroyed cities, and weeping citizens. Dread and horror filled his gut, along with a nauseating feeling that warned the possibility that his dear Alfred was no longer of this world.
Would I have to take over as a representative of the US? Is Mexico going to try and take back their land? Are the other nations going to swoop in and claim bits of America? Thoughts of more campaigns and crusades for his brother's beloved land churned in his mind, and he blinked back tears as he thought of the possible consequences and repercussions the war would have. It was not a civil war, as believed in the global community; it was a revolution, a revolution that seemed to take a turn for the worse. It was a repeat of Nazi Germany, of Communist Russia, of Fascist Italy. Many other nations would probably say that Alfred had it coming to him; Matthew could just imagine the sneers and fake sympathy he'd have to face at the next world conference.
The newscast was suddenly interrupted by an emergency broadcast system, switching to a lone man clothed in an Army dress uniform that bore many medals and badges. His expression was one of tired determination, and – Matthew let out a choked cry – it was his dirty blonde twin, safe and unharmed. Never mind that Matthew could sense the change in demeanor, even through a television set; his brother was fine, he really had nothing to worry about, he was just overreacting like he always did!
"As of today," Alfred stared into the camera, body calm and composed, giving nothing away, "the United States of America is officially dissolved."
Matthew's throat grew dry, and promptly let go of Kumajiro, who fell on the floor with a soft squish. It can't just happen like this. It can't! Alfred was the strong twin, the one who always found a solution to everything! He couldn't just fucking disappear like that. It wasn't like him! The Alfred he knew would fight and fight and fight, and even when he was down, he'd always find a way back up.
It's been thirteen years. He's tired, the rational side of Matthew's brain pointed out. He shook his head, shrinking into his chair. Maybe Alfred was going through some weird transitional period, and then he'd be back to normal. Yes, that was it. Who knew what those Americans thought, anyways? They didn't just give up. They were just…just down for the count.
The Canadian nodded to himself, hugging his knees and watching his brother – no, that was a stranger wearing his brother's skin – drone on and on about how the new America, now called Usona, would redeem themselves and finally regain their superpower status that they were slipping away from. How was everyone else reacting to this sudden broadcast? Matthew suddenly hoped that those two blond Europeans were choking on Arthur's horrible scones, but then immediately revoked his wish. He himself couldn't have done anything anyways; his military was integrated with America's, whose military had been, of late, poorly trained and scantily equipped; Canada's armed forces had made it perfectly clear that they wanted nothing to do with such a "crap bag of shit, eh."
Please tell me you haven't given up, Alfred. Matthew pleaded silently to the television.
Small fact: bag of shit is common slang in the Canadian military, often used to describe someone or something that is useless, sloppy, incompetent, etc.
