A.N: Okay, I don't know what I just did and I think I just threw everything out the window and made something like that. Feeling a little ashamed. This was supposed to be for "Of battlefield of blood and tear" as a waiting chapter, because I didn't update in ages, but it was real short, but I also had the Roses war being short, so I mashed them up together to do something less short. And I skipped Anjou, I'm aware, and I'll skip the hundred years because I can. I don't have any excuses for the no update. Hope you enjoy anyway!

Agincourt and Waterloo were updated!

Disclaimer : Hetalia is not mine, not is the war

Warning: mentioned of death, OOC, historical inaccuracy and just, I don't know, that.

The Roses War

Every nation knew what it was like to find them on a battlefield. Not one of the, escaped the harsh truth of being a nation. It was not something happy and funny. It was hard, painful and lonely at times. They were immortals, but at what price? They have to look at humanity changing, for the best or for the worst, destroying each other and destroying the earth. Sometimes they could try to avoid the worst by talking their boss out of a stupid idea. But those ideas, it's what their people want, it's their people choices and they are their people, so most of the time they just go with it, because every inch of their body and mind were alright with what was happening. When you are a nation things such as friendship, love and hate do not exist. It can't exist. Nations have allies and enemies, but no friends, no love. They can't afford it. If they were to enter a war, they need to fight the other no matter what and most of them don't need to add emotions that could make them lose. However, when their people love another country, they might be overwhelmed by the sentiment and start loving said country, but eventually it'll fade away, just like everything else. Nations are what their people are and they do not differ that much from humans. They're greedy, they want the money, the power and they'll do everything in their power to reach that goal, a little like their government.

Being on the battlefield for the first time is scary experience for every nation. For the first time in their life, their people will die in numerous number, nothing they are used to. Their people will die and suffer and fight right next to them. It is most likely to be the first time they have to fight another nation face to face. The first time they'll fight someone they might have talked just the day before. They would realize how much blood could be spill for a piece a land or a way of thinking or a question of religion. But they would fight, for their people for what they stand for and in the end, they'll lose or win, but nothing of that matters that much. When the battle is over, at one time or another, they would eventually go back to the field where bodies and blood mixed perfectly with the mud and dirt all around. They would see the wounded slowly dying because no one can help them. They would hear them cry their last string of dignity before their heart stop beating forever. Sometimes they would fall on their knees, crying. When all the pain from their people would come ripping through their body like a lightning bolt. They would come back from the war high and they could feel the pain of losing a loved one, a husband, a brother, a father, a son. Some would stay on the field for a while, trying to get the strength to stand up, to walk away and leave the dead where they are. Eventually, they would come back, years or century later, time doesn't matter to them, they would see the new field, pretty and green, but they would also remember the battle they fought, they would see the dead bodies and the wounded, but they couldn't feel the pain anymore and they're not sure if it makes things better or worst.

Even if every nation knew that a battlefield was awful to be on, they knew it wasn't hell. Hell was when the battle happens within them, on their land, between their people. They couldn't fight those battles, they couldn't choose a side, because the nation represents their people and their people are divided and they can't come to choose a side it was unthinkable. It was alike choosing a favourite child, and with all the pain they went through, they could barely think straight. They would feel like tearing themselves apart, make a second them appear so they could have someone to fight that is not your own mind and body. They would be right and wrong. They would feel the pride of winning a battle at the same time feeling the sour taste of losing to the enemy. They would wish for everything to end, because they can't bear their people fighting each other, but they can't die. They have to endure this endless torture until one side win, and then they can start feeling better.

That is exactly how England felt. He felt like dying right then and there to make his pain go away. He just came back from a war which made him lost so many people and now his people wanted to fight one another. It was awful. It wasn't some petty war between peasants, no. It was a war between his nobleness, for a new king. It was always worst when important people fought each other, it would decide of his faith and he was too weak to walk. He had already lost many places to the French, places he won during the hundred year's war. He was already weak from the lost of his people during that war and now they thought it would be a good idea to keep fighting. Just to make things worse the Black Death was having his toll on him. Killing his people not fighting and he could barely stand for more than a couple of minutes. His coughing was unbearable. One day he managed to bring himself on his feet, until the final blow came. He fell to the ground, wondering if a nation could die after all.

When he woke up he was in his bed, in the castle where his new King was. He didn't know how much he was out, probably not long; he never was out for long. But he could feel something had change. Something important. It was on the inside, it wasn't the same as before, like he had reborn. The middle-age was over for him, he knew it, and The Renaissance would be a nice period for his country, his Kingdom. He pondered a little on his death. Nations could die, but they would come back as long as its people did. He died, but not for long, just enough time for his country to come back on its feet, like he did.

A.N: Well, it is what it is! I swear I'll update sooner next time and really tell me what you like, what you don't like and I'll try to make it better! It would really help me, because I'm just going crazy with those one-shots. Hope you liked anyway

Also, for all of you that like PruAus I started writing a multi-chapter fic on them called Unsuspected End (not question on the title I don't even know where I got it from)