Author: Hello there! I am new, have read countless fanfictions but have never really.. written any. Haha; Therefore my english grammar is not the best..ahem.. at all. I just needed to get this idea out of my head.
Its going to be AU, the whole "What if", and I chose What if America successfully invaded Canada in 1812? I also have some plotbunnies involving magic and stuff, so please bear with me!
That's all I have to say. Enjoy~
I do not own Hetalia at all. AT AAAAALL.
Your Sweet Voice - Introduction-
He was slowly dragging him away from the battlefield, from the burning building, the burning city. Honestly, it should not be this troublesome, considering their relationship. Brothers are supposed to stick together, right? Through thick and thin. So, why was he being so difficult? Why was he thrashing about when Alfred was dragging him away to safety? You'd think he would want to leave the British Empire, to abandon England, considering … all he's been through already.
Taken from Francis when he was still so young, ignored by Arthur in favour of the 'golden child', Alfred. Yet it was Alfred who wanted him, the 'other me' as he would call him, he wanted him all to himself like a spoiled child. Why not? Having a mirror image of yourself to be your brother is what every child dreams of, is it not? Who was Arthur to stop an oncoming tantrum of epic proportions?
He had heard some of Francis's people could not handle the harsh climate of this new colony, that it was nothing but a wasteland of snow. Arthur seemed to have had a bit of pity for the child… Until he brought him home. Alfred danced around him, looked at him, poked him like a new toy; the newcomer to the house just hid behind his bear, too shy, trying to speak but voice too soft to hear. Arthur soon let the boy be, to tend to his other colony, his 'favourite'. The young child Matthew didn't seem to mind, he never said anything, and that was the problem. He never said anything. Arthur wondered if he actually had a voice. After a few months, he could only assume Matthew was doing fine because of the little trouble he was, when in fact, Matthew simply bottled everything up, hiding everything behind a mask. He did not want to be abandoned again, and so he put up a happy smile to keep Arthur happy.
So why, Alfred pondered, why didn't Matthew agree with him when he wanted to become independent? Surely he would be happier; Alfred showered him with promises of true freedom, liberty… 'Just like back then,' he would say. Matthew would no longer be ignored, but be loved by his twin brother everyday. They would go on adventures all the time, none of these annoying grown-up problems that Arthur was forcing on them.
In all this, Matthew seemed calm, reserved at first when he was presented with this new proposition. Alfred never liked this reaction; it always meant he was thinking, very thoroughly. His frown only deepened when Matthew started to narrow his eyebrows, to shake his head from side to side.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he whispered, with glassy eyes.
Alfred was furious. After all they've been through, Matthew was going to hide, hide behind Arthur to stay safe! He could not believe this act of cowardice, not knowing who to blame: Matthew or Arthur.
After he had won his independence, he had come to the conclusion that the fault for Matthew's decision was Arthur's. He concluded that Matthew's views were distorted, clouded by Arthur; much like his own views on the world until the taxes, the problems…until his people started to revolt.
That's when it hit him. Matthew was too afraid to disobey. Too afraid to speak up. When Alfred had secretly met up with Francis all those times during his revolution, he always wanted to know how Matthew was, how he acted around Arthur, around other people and around Alfred. After explaining and describing the current events every time, Francis always gave the same bothered look. "That is not like him..." Francis would say. And every time Alfred would press the matter, Francis would shake his head nonchalantly, casting his memories of Matthew off as "things of the past!" and encouraged Alfred to focus on the present, the matters at hand.
Alfred would not dismiss his thoughts. He tried to think about Matthew's position in all this; all he thought was "Matthew wants freedom; he needs freedom, but doesn't want to acknowledge that he does. He is too afraid." The only way for him to realize this is for Alfred to make him see. He'll play the hero to the poor damsel in distress. This made him grin widely.
It was simple enough, really. Invade Quebec, invade Canada. Arthur was nowhere to be found, so Matthew would be easy pickings, right? … Little did he know that Old Man Winter also liked Matthew. He didn't count on the weather being so cold, his men were dying, freezing to death, and so he left, to plan and fight again, this time, with a bigger impact.
Then came 1812.
He was there to bring Matthew home with him. He couldn't wipe off the happy grin on his face; Almost there, Mattie. Almost there. He was surprised to see a few soldiers in redcoats to greet his own; he was even more surprised when he saw Matthew among them, a look of fury on his face. Alfred tried to explain, but Matthew did not want to hear it. He just couldn't understand why Matthew was staying by Arthur's side still. It started to infuriate him. An argument broke out between the two: Matthew lashing out, yelling so hard at Alfred, it was as if all of his frustrations and woes from the past burst out of the bottle he was keeping them in for so long. Alfred could only watch in awe. Every time Matthew mentioned Arthur, it was like a sharp pinprick to his neck, to his chest, to his heart. Was he becoming jealous? Or perhaps anger: angry that Matthew wanted to stay with Arthur and not with him, his brother, his own twin.
Unable to stand it anymore, he pounced towards Matthew to finally silence him, tackling him to the ground. He instructed his own soldiers to go in and burn the capital. Burn it to the ground. Matthew tried desperately to wriggle free, but with no luck.
"I thought I could reason with you" Alfred said, "but it seems I have to force you to see." He smirked as he saw the building in front of them become engulfed in flames. He smiled triumphantly, congratulating himself on a proper invasion, thinking in a few months time how wonderful it will be to have his brother by his side, smiling the same as his.
He took a glance down at Matthew and saw that he was no longer struggling, but writhing in pain. His capital, everything that he—that Arthur stood for… burning to the ground, flames lighting up the night sky, soldiers fighting. Alfred's smile disappearing to a hardened expression, he leaned down to Matthew, trying his best to comfort his aching brother, shushing him saying "everything is for the best" as he stroked his brother's hair.
Finding enough strength, Matthew slapped Alfred's hand away from him, scrambling to get far away from his manic brother. Finally, he stared into Alfred, eyes' blazing with hate, yelling a string of "How could you"s and "Why"s followed by spitting Alfred's name in vain. Which lead Alfred to slowly get up, hold and lasso his twin's hands together, pulling the end of the rope in his hand as he rode back home on his horse; his brother was dragged through the mud, ash and dirt of his land.
Alfred shook his head and he heard Matthew's cries of pain and anger as he was being dragged. He had to teach him, had to make him see…
..... Brothers were supposed to stick together… right?
Author's Notes: So um.. YEAH. This idea has been bubbling around in my brain. Wonder how far I can take it ...
Like I said, I haven't done any creative writing since junior high school, so forgive me and my horrible english grammar mistakes!