Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.

Matthew did not immediately leave the camp, despite Tino's protests. As soon as he left the medic tent, he was running for the other 'medic' tent. Where injured enemies were taken, where they were left to die.

At first he thought the place was empty, though a quick hunt through the tent revealed a single body. A dead Clubs soldier lay sprawled on the floor, a single stab wound in his chest, look of surprise frozen on his face. Matthew was so caught up in his frenzy to find his brother, it took a moment for it to dawn on him who the sole dead man was. "You..."

"Matt?" Tino was watching him with that worried look of his.

"You son of a bitch!" Matthew kicked the dead man in the side, hard. He kicked him again, and again. "Fucking bastard!" To his credit, Tino didn't try and stop him. "Where is he?" One more harsh kick rolled the body onto its side. "Rot. You died too quickly!"

"Matt..."

"Shut up." He finally stalked away from the dead soldier, eyes flicking over the tent. "He's not here... Where is he?"

"I don't know," Tino said, shaking his head helplessly.

Nothing. There was nobody else.

A glimmer of light caught Matthew's eye, and he walked over to the pile of knicknacks he remembered from his previous visit, taken from dying soldiers. His stomach did an unpleasant flip as he dug through the pile, wondering if anything had been his... There was, he figured, no way of knowing.

Until he found the bloodstained medal that had Alfred's name carved on the back. "Oh..." Matthew drew in a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut. "So he was here."

"But that doesn't mean he's dead," Tino said. "How do we know for sure?"

"Ivan wouldn't lie..."

"He might, if he already knew you were a spy."

"He's not that good of an actor." Matthew sighed. "And that makes no sense, anyway. Like they'd capture Alfred and find out I'm a spy, then decide to leave him alive, convince me he's dead just to fuck with me, then let me go... They'd capture us both. They'd kill us both. Or make me watch them kill him or something..." He looked back down at the medal. "Ivan wouldn't have known what the scarf meant. And Al wouldn't have told them. Ever. They'd have given me this instead, I'm sure."

"I... I guess..."

"He won this..." Matthew stared at the medal a moment longer, then finally pocketed it. "And they found it on him and took it and tossed it aside while he bled out." Matthew slowly drew his sword.

"M-Matt?" Tino backed away nervously.

Matthew knelt down beside the dead man, rolling him onto his back. He lifted the sword.

"No!" Tino grabbed the sword away from him. "He's already dead, chopping his head off isn't going to accomplish anything!"

Matthew turned to glare. "Why should he get a proper burial?"

"Matt..." Tino tossed the weapon aside and pulled Matthew close as he cried bitterly, shedding a few tears himself.

Not knowing where else they could possibly look, as Matthew had never overheard what was done with dead enemies, they were forced to leave.

Nobody bothered them as they left the camp. They barely spoke, and Matthew's tears had dried. He walked in numb silence, not even bothering to exaggerate his limp anymore. And once they were free of enemy territory, they turned toward the capital, while Matthew wondered just what he would say to Arthur.

"I hate this," muttered the soldier, John, as they slowly crept along. They were supposed to be heading into the Clubs camp, but something else had grabbed their attention. "We don't have any time to spare!"

"No, we don't," Mathias said. He was the leader of this rescue mission, and he hated putting it off, but he needed to know what those Clubs soldiers they had been following were up to. They had left their own camp behind, but they weren't heading into the Spades camp. "But we have to keep an eye on them. If this takes too long, we'll split up, and some of us will carry on with the mission."

"We don't have a second to spare," said the Diamonds soldier, Henri.

"I know!" Mathias frowned. "But there's something about that soldier..."

He realized what it was when the tall Clubs soldier finally turned to talk to his companion, who trailed behind him.

The reaction from the other soldiers was instantaneous. They shouted and cheered Alfred's name, hurrying closer and crowding around the startled 'Clubs' soldiers. Mathias almost felt a giddy thrill as well, but he quickly squashed it. "Quiet!" he said, raising his voice over the excited babbling. "Don't be stupid, that's not Alfred! Does he look wounded to you?"

"Oh..." The soldiers looked practically heartbroken as they looked again, realizing he was right. Then they grew nervous, backing away from what was obviously Matthew as if afraid of him. Afraid of telling him they were Alfred's rescue mission. Or worse.

But Matthew already knew; Mathias could see it in his eyes.

"He's dead?" Mathias said in a low voice. Matthew's single nod was a crushing blow.

"You saw him?" Matthew asked, speaking to Mathias as the other soldiers were occupied with their horror. "You saw him wounded?"

"Yes." Mathias tossed his war axe to the ground in defeat, sighing.

"I'm going to the palace." Matthew glanced in the direction of the capital city with his haunted eyes. "But first... tell me what happened." He swallowed. "I didn't see him. I don't know where he is. I only had their word for it that he was dead..."

"I'm not surprised..." With another sigh, Mathias launched into the story. "So he was going to..." He trailed off, realizing he needed to start a bit earlier. "While he was rescuing prisoners – you heard about that, right? – he was captured."

"He was what?" Matthew gasped.

"Just temporarily. They took him to Queen Elizabeta's tent, and waited there for her to return, and he escaped. So he started getting it into his head that we should assassinate her."

"He wouldn't...!"

"No." Mathias smiled. "He wouldn't. He knew he'd be caught for sure if he tried killing her himself."

Matthew shook his head. "Like that would stop him."

"No, but you would. Everything he did, he had you in mind. It frustrated him that he always had to worry about being spotted and recognized, putting you in danger, and he always tried disguising himself or hiding his face. He didn't say much about it, not wanting to talk about you just in case, but I could tell."

"Twins don't belong on opposite sides of a war," Matthew murmured. "I don't know what I was thinking, agreeing to this..." He shuddered. "I was told he was still trying to protect me when he was...?"

"Yeah. While he wasn't going to go after her himself, he still wanted to... spy on her, I guess. Return to her tent, get the exact directions so he could let everyone know, check out her habits, whatever. But we still didn't want him to go on his own, he'd been taking too many risks! So after he snuck off one morning, we went after him." Mathias closed his eyes, remembering. "We caught up with him and were talking him out of it when the Clubs soldiers spotted us. They called him Matthew, called him a traitor. He confirmed being Matthew, and they attacked us..." He trailed off. "Did they find out about you?"

Matthew hesitated, chewing on his lip. "No," he finally said. "They didn't find out."

So his sacrifice had been for nothing, then. It could have gone either way. They might have thought he was a traitor simply because they had just then spotted "Matthew" with the enemy, or they might have already known the real Matthew was a traitor. It wasn't like Alfred had any way of knowing, so of course he was going to play it safe and take whatever punishment they had in mind for his brother. "So they attacked us. Their leader fought Al, but I was busy with my own battle, and the next time I looked he was bleeding quite badly." Mathias smiled at the memory. "But so was the other guy. And Al still won."

"He did?" Matthew looked up in surprise.

Mathias nodded. "Al disarmed him. He won. But he let his guard down for just a split second, and the bastard pulled a knife out, and..."

"Oh," Matthew said with a shudder.

"We tried to get to them! But by the time we were free, they were both gone... We had to return to tend to our own wounds, and we organized a rescue mission as soon as we could. We knew he wouldn't last long at all with those injuries, but we had to try... even if it was just to retrieve his body..."

Matthew was silent for a long time, then finally nodded. He murmured his thanks, and turned to continue his journey to the palace without another word. Tino, who had remained quietly beside him through the conversation, hurried after him.

Both groups froze at the sudden sound of cheering. Mathias tilted his head toward the sound of merriment that drifted over from their camp. "Wonder what they're so happy about..."

Arthur awoke with a yawn and a stretch. As usual, he enjoyed the second or two of pleasant unawareness before he once again remembered that there was a war going on, and he had to get up and face it.

His good mood had lingered for a few days, but soon the reality and dread had returned. He still wasn't feeling as depressed as when the war first started, at least, and he was more optimistic with every victory. He started heading for the throne room, but changed his mind and turned toward the study instead. His regular work was piling up as he spent most of his time thinking talking and worrying about war. If anybody was visiting to discuss anything along those lines, Francis could deal with it.

Arthur pulled open the study's curtains, settled down in his chair, and got to work. He tried to not be distracted by the desk, and the couch, and other myriad surfaces he had used for more than just work. He grabbed some papers, and lost himself in busywork that had nothing to do with battles and dying and conquering.

He worked for maybe an hour before the door was flung open and somebody hurried inside.

"How's it going, Yao?" Arthur barely looked up from his paperwork. "Time to eat? I could definitely use something to eat."

"Oh. No, but I'll tell them to make you something." Yao cleared his throat. "Actually, there are about five very excited soldiers here to talk to you."

"Soldiers?" Arthur looked up, brightening.

"Ah... not him. Sorry."

"Oh." Arthur sighed, standing up. "Well, I suppose I will still meet with them. What's it about?"

"They didn't say," Yao said as Arthur fell into step beside him and they left the room. "My guess would be good news."

"Thank the gods." Arthur paused, eyeing the Jack. "I wasn't kidding about being hungry."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Yao bowed, and hurried off in the general direction of the kitchens.