Thunderbird (Hetalia)
Author: Ashynarr
Summary: There was a time where spirits ruled the world, but they all eventually died away as the faith in them faded. A few of the cleverer ones, however, managed to find their own ways around the issue...
Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.
Warning: Lots of mythological references, vaguely OOC characters
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The peaceful acceptance had never really been meant to last, and Matthew knew his brother knew it. In fact, Alfred had looked almost surprised when he'd asked his first question in the middle of dinner - had he expected Matthew to start interrogating him right off the bat?
(...maybe he had, who knew at this point?)
"Why didn't you say anything?"
His brother swallowed the potatoes he'd been eating before replying. "You mean back then? When you were still pissed at my people for accusing you of being pro-South even though you took in, like, a bunch of my people escaping from there?"
The Canadian grimaced, remembering the exact period his brother was speaking of. "Still, after that things got better between us, so why not then?"
"Matt, I was still terrified and confused and trying to figure out who and what I was. It took me a long time to get used to being, well, me, and even more to decide what I was gonna do about it." Alfred's gaze lowered to the table, barely holding a wispy smile in place. "I just… wasn't sure who I could trust, and by I time I figured I could trust you, it'd been so long that I was afraid you'd be, well, pissed at me for not saying anything sooner."
Oh. Well. That was… rather obvious in hindsight, based on how Al had been acting since the incident, all but begging Matthew to offer the same trust Alfred had given to him. "I get not trusting the others, but… why not Arthur? You've got good relations with him too, and he wouldn't freak out as much about the whole… magic thing."
The American tensed, looking so pained and angry for a moment it was almost like seeing a younger, more hotheaded teen with scathing words of independence and liberty on his lips. It was a rage even Ivan had been hard pressed to draw out from the blond, and Matthew almost found himself withdrawing before recognizing it wasn't directed his way.
"Do you remember the rabbit I used to play with as a kid?" He asked, voice almost completely even and flat.
"Rabbit?" Matthew frowned, after a moment vaguely recalling the small thing his brother had always hauled around when the older Nations weren't around. He'd only spared a passing thought as to why his brother had stopped showing up with it one day, because he'd seen more than enough rabbits killed for food and fur that the idea of the thing having passed on somehow seemed rather obvious. "Did he do something to it?"
"Nana wasn't an 'it', he was my friend," Alfred snapped out, looking only somewhat apologetic after the fact. "I know, this is all new to you, but… you do realize your bear isn't normal, right?"
"I've had some details filled in," The Canadian replied slowly, trying to avoid his brother snapping again. "So…"
"Nana is- was a spirit too. Nanabozho the trickster spirit, who could always get out of trouble with a grin and a wink, who stuffed all the animals in north america into a bag to protect them, only to let them go because the people needed them. Who was a hero to his people, even if he messed up sometimes.
"When I was the thunderbird he was one of my best friends, and when I was a colony he kept me company when you and the older Nations weren't around. He taught me how to get animals to like me, how to use my strength without hurting them, how to thank them for providing food and other stuff. I'm not sure if he did it because he recognized me as a kid, or just because he saw the advantage of getting in some influence on the kid representing the intruding white people, but I was too young back then to care either way."
Alfred's eyes closed. "Then Arthur found out, and to say he wasn't happy is a huge understatement. He accused Nana of trying to corrupt me away from 'the proper paths' and all that, and then… then…"
He paused, swallowed, and continued with a deceptive calm.
"I was upset and angry and confused; all I knew was that Arthur had taken away my best friend, lecturing me on trust right after completely stomping all over mine. I still don't think he really understands just what he did to me that day - probably doesn't even think about it these days, and… well, if he finds out I'm like that too, how do I know he wouldn't try the same thing again?"
Matthew though he'd seen the worst of his brother's fears already, but this was just… "Alfred, he loves you, even if he's sort of a shitty dad sometimes; I think he'd be pissed, but he'd get it…"
"But what if he doesn't?" Alfred asked, finally looking at his brother again, face pale enough to be noticeable. "What if he thinks I'm just some sort of- evil spirit or creature that possessed or replaced the real me and tries to 'fix' me?"
"My first instinct is to say you've watched too many horror movies," The Canadian replied, shaking his head before looking back to Alfred. "But if you're really that worried, then just… don't. You've already kept it secret this long, and you only broke it to save my life, so…"
"You aren't going to tell him?" Came hesitantly, quietly. Not a proper sound to be coming from the southern Nation in the least.
Matthew shrugged with a helpless smile. "I promised already, and this is a lot to take in, and I don't think I really get it yet, but... you asked me to trust you, and you've trusted me with something that's really important to you, and, well, it'd just be wrong to spit on that, after all we've been through together."
The slow, hopeful grin that drew out of his brother was worth every last promise he'd made since that fateful day far to the north of them.
"I'm still surprised Arthur would be so hostile to someone with magic right off the bat; I mean, he has all those friends of his…"
"They aren't the same thing - even ignoring the fact that they're from two entirely different belief systems, the fey are not entirely part of our world. I'm not much of an expert on it, since they never liked me even before I realized what I was, but from what I've read and what Arthur rambles about when drunk, most of them don't really interact with people or the world in general unless they want something.
"The Native spirits, on the other hand, were far more invested in the world and the people who lived there, even living among humans without anyone the wiser. And who knows, maybe Arthur's friends and their kin did too, I don't know, all I can be sure of is that back then, he just plain didn't trust anything he didn't know everything about."
And he couldn't be sure whether Arthur had changed, was left unsaid. Matthew was starting to see just why his brother had lived his life behind a mask - all of his experiences had taught him that he was unwelcome as he was, and by the time he wasn't, it was a moot point.
That made the trust being put into him now all the more important, and even if part of him still wished his brother had had more faith in him, he would still do his best to live up to that trust, just as he knew Alfred would have done for him.
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AN: I cannot even begin to apologize for how short and crappy this is, but I couldn't think of anything else and I'm really trying to get back into writing Hetalia (I've sort of been dabbling in some other fandoms and original stuff whoops). This wraps up the wendigo arc and also explains my reasoning on NOT going to Arthur or Europe in general, and I have support in the fact that the scene Alfred described happened during the worst of the witch trials in England.
I'm not excusing Arthur's actions, but he thought at the time he was protecting his younger brother both from 'corruption' by the natives and from anyone catching him practicing magic. And yes, he was of the mindset that Native magics were 'inferior' to his own at the time, though that has... somewhat mellowed in modern times? I guess? Alfred isn't taking a chance though, and that should be respected.
