Re: Part VI/?, cont.
anonymous
November 6 2011, 02:49:37 UTC
Sipping from what he considers one of the best cups of tea he’s ever had, he has been steadily working since mid-morning. A copy of All Quiet on the Western Front rests on the corner of the table; when he desires a break, he reads. He hears it was one of the books the Nazis burned with relish, but there are rumors Ludwig plucked as many copies of it from the bonfires as he could. (He also hears Ludwig saved several H.G. Wells novels from a similar fate, and Arthur wonders: how complicit was Ludwig in everything, really? Was it personal for him as well?)
He recognizes Alfred’s voice calling to him from the house and, twisting around in his chair, gives a slight wave.
“Hail to thee, blithe spirit,” he greets when Alfred, dressed in his white naval uniform, reaches him. “Am I underdressed, or are you overdressed?”
“Nah,” Alfred says, sheepishly raising a hand to the back of his head. “Besides, it’s really uncomfortable.”
“Still, it manages to make even you look presentable.”
Alfred shrugs and says, good-naturedly, “I’ll take it.”
He steps away and breathes in the garden - white hawthorn and the pastoral eglantine, fast-fading violets covered up in leaves, musk rose (mid-May’s eldest child) full of dewy wine, the murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. “It’s so pretty out here,” Alfred whispers so as not to break the spell. “I wish I had some place like this back home to do my work in.”
Arthur allows himself a small, proud smile as his pen scratches away on the paper.
“Say, Artie?”
“Mmm?”
“What happens when a nation dies?”
Arthur winces and his pen nicks the paper, makes an ugly black dash. The nightingale sings on while he turns over Alfred’s question in his head. “Why do you ask?”
“Well...because.” He turns to face Arthur, his expression stormy. “I know how Kiku is. He won’t surrender and he’s not going to just give up without a fight, you know? He’s gonna go down swingin’. And everybody’s expecting something from me.” He picks a flower from a nearby bush before hastily continuing: “Which is totally fine, I mean! I don’t like letting people down, and everyone deserves a hero. But I bet everybody expected a lot from Rome, huh? I don’t mean to compare myself to him in a snooty kinda way or anything. You’re an empire, you’ve thought about all this before, right? And we’re nations, but we have human bodies, and all humans - ”
“You will not die, Alfred.”
“Tell that to Ancient Rome!” Alfred exclaims, his voice rising. “Tell that to Greece’s mom, and Egypt’s, too! And I’ve read about Holy Rome - ”
“Blimey, Alfred, calm down.” For once Arthur’s brows furrow not in annoyance, but concern. “You’re going to be fine. If anyone can do this, you can.”
Alfred doesn’t look convinced, but he sighs and rolls his shoulders back. “Well, I guess being pessimistic never did nobody any good. Or being a realist, either, if you ask me - it’s always better to aim for the stars.” He smiles a little. “And I’d hate to ruin the moment.”
“I was unaware we were having a moment.”
“Well, yeah, ’course we are!” Bending, Alfred loops the flower into the knot of Arthur’s tie. His fingers brush Arthur’s neck as he pulls away. “This is my leave-taking, see? Just like in the movies.”
Arthur snorts. “I can only hope real life is less melodramatic than what is portrayed on screen.”
Part VI/?, cont.
anonymous
November 6 2011, 02:52:36 UTC
“Say, Artie.”
“Mmm?”
Alfred grips the sides of the table, and in the moment Arthur looks up to question him, he leans in and rests his forehead against Arthur’s. Alfred closes his eyes, and when he speaks his voice is low.
“Artie, don’t - don’t make fun of me. Maybe it is melodramatic, but I’ve never done this before and the movies are all I’ve got to go on.”
“Alfred - ”
“I’m just saying - what if I don’t come back, and I never told you how I felt? Because I plan on coming out alright, but no foolin’, half of me’s pretty scared.” Alfred moves his head and places his cheek beside Arthur’s - already with thee, tender is the night. “So I’m tellin’ you now: I love you a lot.”
Above them, the nightingale’s plaintive anthem fades past the near meadows, over the still stream, up the hillside.
Paralyzed until this very moment, Arthur finally panics. He roughly shoves Alfred away. “Get off, you - you stupid, selfish bastard! Get off!”
Alfred stumbles back, eyes wide and mouth agape. Dazed, he watches Arthur stand, the chair falling to the ground behind him; he watches his flower fall from Arthur’s tie.
“Artie - what did I - ”
Arthur points a finger at Alfred and there is a hint of the Dreadnaught in his voice. “I will not be mocked, and that’s all you’ve done these past sixty years, you tosser. I, who am in desperate need of no one’s pity, no one’s fickle devotion, who has absolutely no wish to be tethered to anyone ever again! You make me feel close to you, finally, after all our history together, and then you take great delight in reminding me, ever so charmingly, that for you this is only a game. And just who do you suppose you even are? Conveniently acting this whole time as though there is nothing between us. You insolent, arrogant…I almost wish something would happen to you.” Arthur brings a hand to his mouth, then drops it. It takes him a moment to find his voice again. “Do you wish to hurt me all over again, Alfred? There is nothing that could make you or anyone else love someone like me. Please, let’s end this farce. Just leave.”
Neither of them will look the other in the eye, even when Alfred moves one foot, then the other, and slowly makes for the house. Now more than ever seems it rich to die of mortification, or fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget what the nightingale among the leaves has never known: the weariness, the fever, and the fret here, where but to think is to be full of sorrow and leaden-eyed despairs.
The nightingale’s song returns above Arthur, perhaps the self-same song that found a path through the sad heart of Ruth when, sick for home, she stood in tears amid the alien corn. He puts the chair upright and sits. So this is what it feels like when your heart breaks, he thinks. I assumed I had forgotten the feeling entirely.
Re: Part VI/? notes
anonymous
November 6 2011, 02:58:22 UTC
Preview for Part VII: Various shenanigans at a world conference, ohonhonhon... At least, that’s the plan
In my little corner of the world it’s still November 5, so happy Guy Fawkes Night to those of you who celebrate it! ~BABY, YOU’RE A FIREWORK~
Eeeeee, I feel like it’s been a while since I updated. I’m sorry, gentle readers! I’m also not that proud of this chapter. I don’t know, it feels a little…perfunctory, I guess? I confess I’ve had several ideas for a future chapter involving France dance around in my head lately, so that made it a little difficult to focus.
Dear OP - I hope I’m adequately following your guidelines for the story. : ) Also, thank you again for this prompt, it’s such a gift. I hate my job (but am still very thankful to have one!), but coming home every day and getting to continue this story has put me in such a better mood. So thank you. <3 And thank you to the readers and the reviewers, I am the luckiest girl in the world! I am so glad you all still like it!
*I want to apologize to history for this condensed version of WW2. This is my first Hetalia fanfic, and what I’m quickly finding out is that you can’t include every little detail about history in your fic or you’ll 1.) go mad and 2.) bore the readers. I did have to engage in a little bit of poetic licensing with several things in this chapter, but…*Kanye shrug* I had fun, I regret nothing.
*In addition to Pearl Harbor, Japan also attacked Thailand, British Malaya, Guam, Wake Island, Hong Kong, Singapore, the Philippines, and Shanghai that day. What happened at St. Stephen’s college: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Stephen%27s_college_incident
*”Kiku and I have been eyeing each other…” Pearl Harbor was more a surprise attack in the sense that we knew something was probably coming, we just didn’t know when and where. America had been giving the side-eye to Japan since the ’20s but things didn’t become serious until their invasion of China in 1931. The very fact that we had so much of our fleet at Pearl Harbor in the first place was meant to be a deterrent to the Japanese.
*”Entreat me not to leave thee…” Ruth 1:16
*The Nazis burned numerous “un-German” books in April, May and June of 1933. They burned anything they saw as not conforming to Nazi ideology. What is perhaps most terrifying, however, is that it was brainwashed college students who did most of the burning. In one night alone at least 25,000 volumes of books were burned. Fiction and non-fiction authors of all nationalities and religions were burned, including: Charles Darwin, Albert Einstein, Sigmund Freud, Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, Franz Kafka, Helen Keller (YES, THAT HELEN KELLER), Vladimir Lenin, Jack London, Karl Marx, John Dos Passos, Upton Sinclair, Leon Trotsky, HG Wells, and Émile Zola.
*Come to me, English literature and poetry, just let me love you… -“You could see the skeleton behind the man, and almost the ghost behind the skeleton.” Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles -“Hail to thee, blithe spirit!” Shelley’s To a Skylark -“That thou, light-wingèd Dryad of the trees…singest of summer in full-throated ease” John Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale -“White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;/Fast-fading violets cover’d up in leaves;/And mid-May’s eldest child,/The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,/The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eaves…” OtaN -“Already with thee! tender is the night…” OtaN -“Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades/Past the near meadows, over the still stream,/Up the hill-side…” OtaN -“Now more than ever seems it rich to die…” OtaN -“Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget/What thou among the leaves hast never known,/The weariness, the fever, and the fret/Here…Where but to think is to be full of sorrow/And leaden-eyed dispairs…” OtaN -“Perhaps the self-same song that found a path/Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,/She stood in tears amid the alien corn…” OtaN
Until next time, dear friends! Have a great day! <333
Re: Part VI/? notes
anonymous
November 6 2011, 04:24:32 UTC
Oh, dear. Dear you, wonderful A!A who brightens my day so with this exquisite piece of literature. And dear Arthur, poor darling Arthur, who doesn't accept love! I love how you took Arthur's canonical self-doubt, his awkwardness and self-deprecation and developed it into a truly tragic character study. God, the pain in his refusal to believe he's loved and the fear of letting others in! And yet you don't make him pathetic but strong and proud: this is an extraordinary feat, I think.
Alfred is just perfect here. I particularly loved how you refer to Alfred feeling the war as something personal, because of Arthur.
(The war is perhaps even more personal for Alfred than it is for Arthur; a long, steady love of Arthur has made everything personal since he was but a child. For Alfred, there has only ever been Arthur.)
You know, of all my headcanon, I think this is the one I love the most: the idea that Arthur has always been the centre of Alfred's life, that he has loved him from the very beginning and that, for him, there's always been only Arthur, as you put so well.
And just to make me happier, you included several passages and references to my favourite book from the Old Testament, including what I think is one of the greatest love (any kind of love) professions: Entreat me not to leave thee, and to return from following after thee, for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people.
You know, when Princess Maxima and Prince Willem-Alexander got married, Ruth's words were read at the ceremony and I wept (actually wept) all trough it. It's just so beautiful! And in this case it has a double meaning: after all, Alfred's people are -at least symbolically and historically- Arthur's people.
All in all, a beautiful update to a breath taking story.
Re: Part VI/? notes
anonymous
November 6 2011, 14:31:23 UTC
OMG, that was the best part of the story so far! I love the concept of nations losing one of their 5 senses during a catastrophe! And I think you took a very fresh approach to WW2 and not just glossed over it - it's been done in great detail many-a-times before, but your short descriptions of it touched on many things that were never discussed in those, like the burning of books and Belgian's participation in WW2. I really loved the references to Keats and that failed attempt at confessing love really broke my heart - especially because it was right before Alfred was going to leave to fight Kiku and of course the controversial issue of the bomb. Touching on Alfred's fears of the possibility of nations dying was very appropriate for the scene too. And the balance with the description of the lovely scene and the dialogue and then the sudden break of the song and Arthur's snapping reply... OMG.
I really hope you de-anon so I can follow all of your works, hetalia or not, because they are so beautiful and on a whole new level than most other fanfics in any fandom.
Re: Part VI/? notes
anonymous
November 6 2011, 20:03:42 UTC
Oh my, A!A you never, ever fail to leave me full of awe. You really don't need to feel not proud about this chapter, it's great! And you have some Alfred/Arthur moments that made my heart truly ache. Of course I felt very sorry for Arthur when he couldn't accept Alfred love, but I also felt sorry for Alfred because Arthur's rejection was (unintentionally) cruel in its own way. Yes, trying to be detailed about real histroy is difficult and could even slow down things too much, but I think you've found a good balance here. You're making the story progress and giving it a good, believeble context.
Author anon here
anonymous
November 6 2011, 06:27:23 UTC
I thought I changed it, but conveniently acting this whole time as though there is nothing between us should actually be as though there is no history between us. *headtodesk*
Re: Author anon here
anonymous
November 6 2011, 07:57:21 UTC
Thank you soo much for the update!! It really made my day :D
Long rambling right ahead:
Ooo...yes, then that dialogue makes a bit more sense.
Aahh, Arthur, you better be thankful Alfred is still alive after you told him those words. If I were Alfred I would have cried when I fly my plane over the Pacific and crashed.
After reading the update, I mulled over the chapter, and think about it over fifteen minutes. At first I didn't quite get Arthur's explosive reaction. Especially that statement on 'fickle devotion'. In this chapter, Alfred survived a traumatic historical event that made him temporarily mute, and Arthur himself had (deceptively) acknowledged that Alfred had endured such pains for Arthur - isn't that devotion strong enough? But then again, I looked back and finally realised that no, Arthur didn't see Alfred's suffering as Alfred's devotion for Arthur, but as something for Arthur to blame himself for. An excuse to push Alfred as far away as possible.
The case that didn't help understanding is also that half the chapter is on Alfred's POV. So his jealousy, his insecurities, everything made the readers sympathise with Alfred and understand Arthur's rejection even less. The most recent memory is felt most strongly by human beings. This is countered by the setting you've established over chapter I - V, the feeling of 'not-worthy-of-love, not-worthy-of-your-sacrifice' that has taken root in Arthur. It's just...I needed time for the pre-established setting and the harsh, harsh rejection to consolidate and make sense.
You gave us some reminders/pointers, too, about Arthur hating change (bow, bending). And I'd like to think Arthur was misdirecting his fear of falling in love with Alfred to Alfred himself. Before the confession, Arthur must have thought to keep his feelings, whatever they were (he'd refused to think about them), one-sided, but the confession forced him to face the possibility he did not want to happen.
Well, Arthur must think himself the God of Misfortune or something, since pple who love him ended up sacrificing too much for him. Not all, but thru wars after wars (young people losing their lives for him), they reinforced his self-belief. It didn't help that the only thing keeping Arthur together was probably his pride, and the strength of his people, the love of his people (and for his people), the thought that if he were to fall he would let down all those who have sacrifised themselves for their love of him. But Arthur did not love himself. And therein lies the problem haha.
I feel worried about Alfred's and Arthur's future. As of now, I don't see how Alfred could convince Arthur of his love, yet. It doesn't help that for Alfred, there's only been Arthur (also used to be a headcanon of mine, btw), and if Arthur knew this, he's going to say, 'lad, this is not love, you don't know any better'. I almost wished Alfred wud try relationships with others first (and being in love with them too, for a while), until he realises his feelings for Arthur cannot compare. That will strengthen Alfred's self-esteem and his efforts to convince Arthur of his love, I think.
Anyways, great job! It's so well written (anything that makes the readers think over the story are good I feel). And the way you weaved quotes from other literature seamlessly into the story is superb. I've really enjoyed reading the story and I'm always looking forward to this fill's update! Awaiting for the next :)
He recognizes Alfred’s voice calling to him from the house and, twisting around in his chair, gives a slight wave.
“Hail to thee, blithe spirit,” he greets when Alfred, dressed in his white naval uniform, reaches him. “Am I underdressed, or are you overdressed?”
“Nah,” Alfred says, sheepishly raising a hand to the back of his head. “Besides, it’s really uncomfortable.”
“Still, it manages to make even you look presentable.”
Alfred shrugs and says, good-naturedly, “I’ll take it.”
He steps away and breathes in the garden - white hawthorn and the pastoral eglantine, fast-fading violets covered up in leaves, musk rose (mid-May’s eldest child) full of dewy wine, the murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. “It’s so pretty out here,” Alfred whispers so as not to break the spell. “I wish I had some place like this back home to do my work in.”
Arthur allows himself a small, proud smile as his pen scratches away on the paper.
“Say, Artie?”
“Mmm?”
“What happens when a nation dies?”
Arthur winces and his pen nicks the paper, makes an ugly black dash. The nightingale sings on while he turns over Alfred’s question in his head. “Why do you ask?”
“Well...because.” He turns to face Arthur, his expression stormy. “I know how Kiku is. He won’t surrender and he’s not going to just give up without a fight, you know? He’s gonna go down swingin’. And everybody’s expecting something from me.” He picks a flower from a nearby bush before hastily continuing: “Which is totally fine, I mean! I don’t like letting people down, and everyone deserves a hero. But I bet everybody expected a lot from Rome, huh? I don’t mean to compare myself to him in a snooty kinda way or anything. You’re an empire, you’ve thought about all this before, right? And we’re nations, but we have human bodies, and all humans - ”
“You will not die, Alfred.”
“Tell that to Ancient Rome!” Alfred exclaims, his voice rising. “Tell that to Greece’s mom, and Egypt’s, too! And I’ve read about Holy Rome - ”
“Blimey, Alfred, calm down.” For once Arthur’s brows furrow not in annoyance, but concern. “You’re going to be fine. If anyone can do this, you can.”
Alfred doesn’t look convinced, but he sighs and rolls his shoulders back. “Well, I guess being pessimistic never did nobody any good. Or being a realist, either, if you ask me - it’s always better to aim for the stars.” He smiles a little. “And I’d hate to ruin the moment.”
“I was unaware we were having a moment.”
“Well, yeah, ’course we are!” Bending, Alfred loops the flower into the knot of Arthur’s tie. His fingers brush Arthur’s neck as he pulls away. “This is my leave-taking, see? Just like in the movies.”
Arthur snorts. “I can only hope real life is less melodramatic than what is portrayed on screen.”
Reply
“Mmm?”
Alfred grips the sides of the table, and in the moment Arthur looks up to question him, he leans in and rests his forehead against Arthur’s. Alfred closes his eyes, and when he speaks his voice is low.
“Artie, don’t - don’t make fun of me. Maybe it is melodramatic, but I’ve never done this before and the movies are all I’ve got to go on.”
“Alfred - ”
“I’m just saying - what if I don’t come back, and I never told you how I felt? Because I plan on coming out alright, but no foolin’, half of me’s pretty scared.” Alfred moves his head and places his cheek beside Arthur’s - already with thee, tender is the night. “So I’m tellin’ you now: I love you a lot.”
Above them, the nightingale’s plaintive anthem fades past the near meadows, over the still stream, up the hillside.
Paralyzed until this very moment, Arthur finally panics. He roughly shoves Alfred away. “Get off, you - you stupid, selfish bastard! Get off!”
Alfred stumbles back, eyes wide and mouth agape. Dazed, he watches Arthur stand, the chair falling to the ground behind him; he watches his flower fall from Arthur’s tie.
“Artie - what did I - ”
Arthur points a finger at Alfred and there is a hint of the Dreadnaught in his voice. “I will not be mocked, and that’s all you’ve done these past sixty years, you tosser. I, who am in desperate need of no one’s pity, no one’s fickle devotion, who has absolutely no wish to be tethered to anyone ever again! You make me feel close to you, finally, after all our history together, and then you take great delight in reminding me, ever so charmingly, that for you this is only a game. And just who do you suppose you even are? Conveniently acting this whole time as though there is nothing between us. You insolent, arrogant…I almost wish something would happen to you.” Arthur brings a hand to his mouth, then drops it. It takes him a moment to find his voice again. “Do you wish to hurt me all over again, Alfred? There is nothing that could make you or anyone else love someone like me. Please, let’s end this farce. Just leave.”
Neither of them will look the other in the eye, even when Alfred moves one foot, then the other, and slowly makes for the house. Now more than ever seems it rich to die of mortification, or fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget what the nightingale among the leaves has never known: the weariness, the fever, and the fret here, where but to think is to be full of sorrow and leaden-eyed despairs.
The nightingale’s song returns above Arthur, perhaps the self-same song that found a path through the sad heart of Ruth when, sick for home, she stood in tears amid the alien corn. He puts the chair upright and sits. So this is what it feels like when your heart breaks, he thinks. I assumed I had forgotten the feeling entirely.
Reply
In my little corner of the world it’s still November 5, so happy Guy Fawkes Night to those of you who celebrate it! ~BABY, YOU’RE A FIREWORK~
Eeeeee, I feel like it’s been a while since I updated. I’m sorry, gentle readers! I’m also not that proud of this chapter. I don’t know, it feels a little…perfunctory, I guess? I confess I’ve had several ideas for a future chapter involving France dance around in my head lately, so that made it a little difficult to focus.
Dear OP - I hope I’m adequately following your guidelines for the story. : ) Also, thank you again for this prompt, it’s such a gift. I hate my job (but am still very thankful to have one!), but coming home every day and getting to continue this story has put me in such a better mood. So thank you. <3 And thank you to the readers and the reviewers, I am the luckiest girl in the world! I am so glad you all still like it!
*I want to apologize to history for this condensed version of WW2. This is my first Hetalia fanfic, and what I’m quickly finding out is that you can’t include every little detail about history in your fic or you’ll 1.) go mad and 2.) bore the readers. I did have to engage in a little bit of poetic licensing with several things in this chapter, but…*Kanye shrug* I had fun, I regret nothing.
*In addition to Pearl Harbor, Japan also attacked Thailand, British Malaya, Guam, Wake Island, Hong Kong, Singapore, the Philippines, and Shanghai that day. What happened at St. Stephen’s college: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Stephen%27s_college_incident
*”Kiku and I have been eyeing each other…” Pearl Harbor was more a surprise attack in the sense that we knew something was probably coming, we just didn’t know when and where. America had been giving the side-eye to Japan since the ’20s but things didn’t become serious until their invasion of China in 1931. The very fact that we had so much of our fleet at Pearl Harbor in the first place was meant to be a deterrent to the Japanese.
*”Entreat me not to leave thee…” Ruth 1:16
*The Nazis burned numerous “un-German” books in April, May and June of 1933. They burned anything they saw as not conforming to Nazi ideology. What is perhaps most terrifying, however, is that it was brainwashed college students who did most of the burning. In one night alone at least 25,000 volumes of books were burned. Fiction and non-fiction authors of all nationalities and religions were burned, including: Charles Darwin, Albert Einstein, Sigmund Freud, Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, Franz Kafka, Helen Keller (YES, THAT HELEN KELLER), Vladimir Lenin, Jack London, Karl Marx, John Dos Passos, Upton Sinclair, Leon Trotsky, HG Wells, and Émile Zola.
*Come to me, English literature and poetry, just let me love you…
-“You could see the skeleton behind the man, and almost the ghost behind the skeleton.” Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles
-“Hail to thee, blithe spirit!” Shelley’s To a Skylark
-“That thou, light-wingèd Dryad of the trees…singest of summer in full-throated ease” John Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale
-“White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;/Fast-fading violets cover’d up in leaves;/And mid-May’s eldest child,/The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,/The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eaves…” OtaN
-“Already with thee! tender is the night…” OtaN
-“Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades/Past the near meadows, over the still stream,/Up the hill-side…” OtaN
-“Now more than ever seems it rich to die…” OtaN
-“Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget/What thou among the leaves hast never known,/The weariness, the fever, and the fret/Here…Where but to think is to be full of sorrow/And leaden-eyed dispairs…” OtaN
-“Perhaps the self-same song that found a path/Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,/She stood in tears amid the alien corn…” OtaN
Until next time, dear friends! Have a great day! <333
Reply
Alfred is just perfect here. I particularly loved how you refer to Alfred feeling the war as something personal, because of Arthur.
(The war is perhaps even more personal for Alfred than it is for Arthur; a long, steady love of Arthur has made everything personal since he was but a child. For Alfred, there has only ever been Arthur.)
You know, of all my headcanon, I think this is the one I love the most: the idea that Arthur has always been the centre of Alfred's life, that he has loved him from the very beginning and that, for him, there's always been only Arthur, as you put so well.
And just to make me happier, you included several passages and references to my favourite book from the Old Testament, including what I think is one of the greatest love (any kind of love) professions: Entreat me not to leave thee, and to return from following after thee, for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people.
You know, when Princess Maxima and Prince Willem-Alexander got married, Ruth's words were read at the ceremony and I wept (actually wept) all trough it. It's just so beautiful! And in this case it has a double meaning: after all, Alfred's people are -at least symbolically and historically- Arthur's people.
All in all, a beautiful update to a breath taking story.
Reply
Plus the way he wanted to be cheese with his love confession.
Reply
I really hope you de-anon so I can follow all of your works, hetalia or not, because they are so beautiful and on a whole new level than most other fanfics in any fandom.
Reply
Yes, trying to be detailed about real histroy is difficult and could even slow down things too much, but I think you've found a good balance here. You're making the story progress and giving it a good, believeble context.
Can't wait for next chap :)
Reply
Reply
Long rambling right ahead:
Ooo...yes, then that dialogue makes a bit more sense.
Aahh, Arthur, you better be thankful Alfred is still alive after you told him those words. If I were Alfred I would have cried when I fly my plane over the Pacific and crashed.
After reading the update, I mulled over the chapter, and think about it over fifteen minutes. At first I didn't quite get Arthur's explosive reaction. Especially that statement on 'fickle devotion'. In this chapter, Alfred survived a traumatic historical event that made him temporarily mute, and Arthur himself had (deceptively) acknowledged that Alfred had endured such pains for Arthur - isn't that devotion strong enough? But then again, I looked back and finally realised that no, Arthur didn't see Alfred's suffering as Alfred's devotion for Arthur, but as something for Arthur to blame himself for. An excuse to push Alfred as far away as possible.
The case that didn't help understanding is also that half the chapter is on Alfred's POV. So his jealousy, his insecurities, everything made the readers sympathise with Alfred and understand Arthur's rejection even less. The most recent memory is felt most strongly by human beings. This is countered by the setting you've established over chapter I - V, the feeling of 'not-worthy-of-love, not-worthy-of-your-sacrifice' that has taken root in Arthur. It's just...I needed time for the pre-established setting and the harsh, harsh rejection to consolidate and make sense.
You gave us some reminders/pointers, too, about Arthur hating change (bow, bending). And I'd like to think Arthur was misdirecting his fear of falling in love with Alfred to Alfred himself. Before the confession, Arthur must have thought to keep his feelings, whatever they were (he'd refused to think about them), one-sided, but the confession forced him to face the possibility he did not want to happen.
Well, Arthur must think himself the God of Misfortune or something, since pple who love him ended up sacrificing too much for him. Not all, but thru wars after wars (young people losing their lives for him), they reinforced his self-belief. It didn't help that the only thing keeping Arthur together was probably his pride, and the strength of his people, the love of his people (and for his people), the thought that if he were to fall he would let down all those who have sacrifised themselves for their love of him. But Arthur did not love himself. And therein lies the problem haha.
I feel worried about Alfred's and Arthur's future. As of now, I don't see how Alfred could convince Arthur of his love, yet. It doesn't help that for Alfred, there's only been Arthur (also used to be a headcanon of mine, btw), and if Arthur knew this, he's going to say, 'lad, this is not love, you don't know any better'. I almost wished Alfred wud try relationships with others first (and being in love with them too, for a while), until he realises his feelings for Arthur cannot compare. That will strengthen Alfred's self-esteem and his efforts to convince Arthur of his love, I think.
Anyways, great job! It's so well written (anything that makes the readers think over the story are good I feel). And the way you weaved quotes from other literature seamlessly into the story is superb. I've really enjoyed reading the story and I'm always looking forward to this fill's update! Awaiting for the next :)
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