He got ready for bed as he always had; brushed his teeth, washed his face, and changed into his sleeping gown. It was true that many said his clothes were old-fashioned, but Britain was old-fashioned. As he did for may centuries, he crawled under the blankets of his 4-poster wooden bed and turned off the lights.
But unlike years before, he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes.
The darkness wasn't what scared him- no. He wasn't afraid of the dark- that was childish!
No, it was the silence that had Britain unnerved. For so long, the nights of London were loud and bright; and he did what anyone would do during the Blitzkrieg- curl up in the basement and pray for it to end.
Looking back, it was strange for him to think, Britain never worried about his own life. He was an eternal country- there was no way he would die from a simple bombing.
If one could call it simple- which he doubted.
No, he was more worried, anxious, if he were honest about the bombs yet to come. There was always an eerie silence, followed by sound- or worse, no sound at all. Which left him wondering if it was safe to venture out into the world once again.
But Now that the war was over, he tried to tell himself that the Blitz would finally leave him alone- that the world was safe again. But as he laid in the darkness of his bedroom, Britain had a nagging feeling- one that would never leave him alone.
So, like most nights before this, Britain climbed out of bed, grabbed one of the blankets and made his way downstairs. Once in the basement, he settled against one of the cement walls and finally, drifted off to sleep.
A/N: This is a part that I have been thinking about for some time now. I know that many people in the Blitz were actually very resilient and did the best they could. But I wanted to play with some of the possible lingering anxieties that Britain (in Hetalia Universe) might have. I don't think this story is done, but I am still figuring out the rest of the story in my head. Thanks for reading!