Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me. This story does. Thank you GoldenDiscord for beta-editing this piece for me :)

Broken Love

Epilogue

"If a thing loves, it is infinite."
William Blake

They were alive.

They were free.

Spring morning

Their newly grown apple trees have received their first buds. The snow finally melted away and uncovered a narrow but strong stream feeding a lake behind their hut. The brothers spent most of their time there, riding down to the nearest villages only to buy what they couldn´t grow or make.

Alfred had walked out of the post office and stood on the side of a street, looking up at a chevron of Canadian Geese flying north. The Canadian Geese flew over Matthew who was behind the grocery store, tying food and provisions to their two horses. He tossed Alfred some apples from last autumn. Alfred threw the apples into the air, one-by-one, catching them behind his back, a cocky move, executed with a disarming smile that made Matthew laugh every time.

"You know, I think l may have found my place in this world," Matthew told Alfred as he mounted the horse.

Alfred tossed one last glance towards the geese and breathed. Then he turned to Matthew, studied his face, and replied, "I feel alive here," smiling.

Summer night.

The apple trees in their garden were covered with flowers. Matthew stripped on the grassy shore and let his filthy clothes fall to the ground. Naked, he stepped gingerly into the water.

Common people said that the lake had no bottom, but he felt soft mud squishing between his toes as he pushed through the tall reeds. The moon floated on the still black waters, shattering and re-forming as Matthew´s ripples washed over it. Goose pimples rose on his pale skin as the coldness crept up his thighs and kissed his cock. He had spent the entire day around the hut, having the chore of regularly cleaning it, tending to the horses and the chicken and geese family they had bought recently, while Alfred was out in the woods, hunting. The dirt had dried on his hands and around his chest. Matthew cupped his fingers and lifted the waters over his head, cleansing himself and the lassitude inside himself.

Alfred stood on the shore, naked as well, only a candle in his hand with a robe swung over his shoulder, staring at Matthew. Matthew looked relaxed now and well rested while Alfred was full of aches. Matthew heard Alfred muttering something as he watched, and wondered what he was saying. When he emerged from the lake, shivering and dripping, Alfred hurried to him with the robe. But Matthew waved him away.

"If you don´t put down that candle, you´ll burn your fingers," Matthew gestured at the candle.

Alfred put down the candle, took Matthew's hands in his, and pulled Matthew gently to him. Matthew bent under the kiss. Alfred´s mouth tasted of honey and lemon tea. Matthew touched Alfred´s hair lightly, sliding the blond strands between his fingers and murmuring softly in French. Alfred didn´t understand a word, yet there was warmth in that tone, a tenderness he loved to hear from this man whose company he craved and cherished more than everything else in this world.

Alfred held Matthew in his strong arms, his left hand slipped around the back of Matthew's head and pulled him deeper and deeper into the kiss. His right hand found its way down Matthew´s shoulder blade, the small of his back, caressing his right butt-cheek with smooth fingers, and then striking his rectum, opening him and waking that sweet wetness that was Alfred´s alone.

Matthew´s mind shut down. Alfred´s tongue in his mouth was greedy and forceful, and yet gentle, smoothing over the bites Alfred was occasionally leaving when nipping at his lips. Then his huge Alfred took him by the hips and turned him around. Matthew wrapped his arm around Alfred´s neck, the other around Alfred´s waist. Matthew´s hands still had the smell of soil.

Alfred pressed his face against Matthew´s nape as he thrust himself inside him. Matthew screamed loud enough to scare off some deer. Three quick strokes and Alfred was done, he bit at Matthew´s nape, hard, in the moment of his pleasure, his seed filling Matthew. When Alfred pulled out of him, his seed trickled down the inside of Matthew´s thighs.

"Did you miss me?" Alfred teased, he took Matthew´s hands and kissed them.

"Desperately," Matthew admitted as he stood before him, pink and nude and beautiful.

Alfred gave a snort and wrinkled up his boyish face. "You´ll never be able to rest as long as I´m gone hunting," he smirked wickedly. "You´ll think of me every time you go to water the horses... every time you go to sweep the floor... every time you go to pluck the herbs... And you´ll get hard. But then you´ll have no one to help you..."

"Then shouldn´t you be making love to me instead of talking?"

Alfred shrugged. "So… err… what would you like us do now? It´s already late... my hands and feet are sore... let´s just go to sleep... next time... maybe...?"

"Shut up and kiss me," Matthew commanded. He could taste the cold on Alfred's kiss and feel that strong heart beat against his chest as his fingers moved down Alfred´s stomach and between Alfred´s thighs and squeezed him. Feeling that Alfred started to stiffen again under his touch, Matthew smirked equally wickedly. "I don´t think that he wants to wait until next time," he announced. "He wants to come out and count all my brown spots, I think."

The pair hurried inside. Alfred dropped the robe onto the table. Matthew blew off a candle, then another, and then he came to Alfred from behind and rubbed his hand on Alfred´s stomach and began kissing and sucking on his neck. "I want to sleep with you... I want to wake up with you... I want to spend the rest of my days like this."

Alfred could feel the softness of Matthew´s skin pressed against his back. A song filled his head. Softly, quietly, he began to hum.

"What´s that?" Matthew murmured against him.

"A song I learned," Alfred told him.

Matthew dropped a kiss behind his ear and sagged against him, "Let me hear it."

Alfred stiffened for a second but then began signing, "Jocky met with Jenny fair... Aft by the dawning of the day...," Alfred felt Matthew´s mouth lowered to his shoulder and smiled. "But Jockey now is fu' of care... Since Jenny staw his heart away...," Then he turned around and cupped both of Matthew's butt-cheeks, that warm sweet flesh, and murmured softly against his brow, "Altho' she promis'd to be true... She proven has, alake! Unkind... Which gars poor Jockey aften rue... That e'er he loo'd a fickle mind..."

"Tis o'er the hills and far away," Matthew sang along, stroking Alfred's face. "Tis o'er the hills and far away... The wind has blown my plaid away..."

Afterwards, they stood there for some moments in a quiet lull, kissing, long and deep… their cocks pressing against each other…

The noiselessness made Matthew's ears roar. As Alfred put a hand on his bare hip where it curved around his waist, he shivered. His chest rose and fell rapidly. An involuntary low moan accompanied by a hiss of breath escaped him and whispered into the kiss.

Alfred pushed him onto the bed, pressing his body to Matthew's. "Al… Alfred… I… ah… I´ll," Matthew started but Alfred covered his mouth with his own. They had talked and sung and whatever enough. Matthew kissed him back, his arms sliding around Alfred´s neck.

The kiss aroused Alfred and he grinded himself to his lover and revealed his hardness. Matthew moaned into the kiss. Alfred gently disentangled himself then and reached a hand between them and found Matthew´s cock. In two quick strokes he had it hard. "Do you love me?"

Matthew replied, "Fiercely," part whisper and part moan.

Autumn evening.

The apple trees in the garden were covered with apples. Two wolf pubs played in the tall grass in front of the hut.

Alfred sat on the front porch, writing a letter, two others were placed on the bank next to him, ready to be send.

Matthew walked out of their workshop, trailed by another wolf pub. He carried a just-completed rocking chair. He stepped onto the porch next to Alfred, placed the rocking chair next to him and sat down. "Alfred, you´ve written him many letters, and he still refuses to reply. Why do you keep doing this?"

Alfred signed the letter and put it into an envelope. "It´s because I believe he´ll change his mind...," he raised his eyebrows, "... one day."

Matthew put his hand into Alfred´s. "And if he won´t?"

Alfred smiled and squeezed Matthew´s hand. "He will. Francis did."

Matthew saw the promise gleaming in Alfred's eyes and brushed Alfred's hand with his thumb. Alfred´s skin felt hot beneath his fingers. "Francis is far too different… He thinks what the world really needs is more love… Doesn´t matter between who… or what."

When Alfred didn´t reply, instead he closed his eyes and inhaled and exhaled deeply and steadily, Matthew slid his hand out of Alfred´s, gently, and seated himself cross-legged in the chair and changed the subject. "Francis taught me how to make maple syrup."

The brothers exchanged an impressed look. Then Alfred admitted, "I´m pulsing with jealousy." He turned on Matthew, his eyes squinting, "Did he… teach you anything else?"

Matthew smiled in a dumb way. "Maple sugar."

The world around them shifted from gray to indigo to black as dusk crept into the leaves-befallen forest. Matthew lit candles, "You´ll keep writing," he said and knelt to pull off his Hunter´s boots. "And I´ll keep the darkness away."

Alfred went back to writing, smiling. Candles shone off his face while Matthew watched the full moon steal their night sky.

Winter midnight.

A frost-soaked Alfred walked through the front door. The fire in the stone hearth had burned down to embers, but the room was still warm. Matthew had kicked off his blankets and sheets as he slept. He lay nude atop the featherbed, the muscular curves of his young body limned in the faint glow from the fire. Alfred stood in the door and drank in the sight of him. "He´s all I need... and more," he thought to himself.

Alfred had not intended to disturb Matthew in his sleep. But the sight of him was enough to make Alfred hard. He let his trousers fall to the floor, then crawled onto the bed, and gently pushed Matthew's legs apart. Matthew murmured in his sleep.

Alfred climbed up and thrust himself inside him and exploded almost at once. Matthew's eyes opened slowly, cloudy with sleep, he stroked them, and he grinned and whispered, "I just had the most perfect dream."

Alfred nipped at Matthew´s neck and nestled his head on Matthew's shoulder. He didn´t pull out of him; he wished that he never had to pull out of him. "This is not a dream," Alfred promised him. "It´s real... all of it. The war, Indians, Brits and the French, and you and me in the center of it."

Matthew's grin grew wide. "And I fucking love it."

The End

Bavaria