[Hetalia] "Hard Times"
Title: "Hard Times"
Author: shuriken7
Claim: Hetalia: America/Canada
Table: General # 1
Word Count: 678
Prompt: Crushed @ 10_hurt_comfort, Table 47/3. Quite Difficult @ 5_prompts
Rating: PG
Summary: War of 1812: Canada hates being caught between a rock and a hard place.
Warnings: Slash. Hetalia deals with the personifications of nation-states. Some of the stories may be historical in nature and others will be examining them as just people. Possible historical inaccuracies.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
It was a difficult time, they were at war and England had forbade him to see the other. It was hard not to as he would see him across the battlefield, looking hurt and angry and not understanding. He would stare back with the same hurt, he hated being caught between them. It was like being trapped against a rock and a hard place, either way he would become crushed.
It was winter and most of the fighting had slowed. The commanders had realized that it was not intelligent to fight battles along the freezing Northern United States and Canadian borders. They would lose too many soldiers to the frost, although some were still hard-headed enough to persist. Canada had retreated to winter quarters. He was grateful that England was once again distracted by France back in Europe and had left. It had been difficult watching him pace the hallways every night, either raging or in quiet contemplation. Both behaviors unnerved Canada more than he would admit.
He sat in the firelight wrapped up in a blanket, staring at a blank piece of parchment. He had felt compelled to write a letter, but he was unsure about how to start. He really didn’t know if he even wanted to. The only words he had written were:
Dear America,
I don’t know what to say to you...
The ink had dripped across the paper, he would have to start the page over, but he couldn’t even bring himself to draft. He tucked the quill back into the ink pot and sat back. He scooted closer to the fire so his feet would not be so cold. “I don’t know what to say to you...” he began into the semi-darkness of the room, “Except that I wish you were here...” He knew he couldn’t commit those words to paper, lest he be accused of treason. He could feel the desires of his people stirring, some hated any connection with the Americans, many were indifferent, many had been Americans, but had wanted to stay with the crown when America separated from Great Britain. He couldn’t really remember a time when he wasn’t at least aware of America, even if they hadn’t met. He could still sense him, somewhere in his own winter quarters, possibly as lonely as he was.
He felt his heart break, he could tell his brother was as unhappy with the war as the rest of them were. It was pride that kept him going. Pride and fear of once again being under England’s control. He wondered if things would ever be okay between the three of them ever again. He could feel his heart clench a little, he tried to hold in the tears as he wadded up the ruined parchment and tossed it in the fire, watching it catch and burn to ashes. He hoped his relationship with his neighbor would not end in the same way. He jumped when he heard a knock at the door.
A messenger stood outside it and offered a letter. It had no mention of where it came from. He thanked the man and closed the door. He unfolded the paper carefully, it looked like it had been dragged through the dirt and gotten wet several times. He stared at it, it had indeed been wet as the ink had run. There were a lot of smudged words, and many of them looked like they had been crossed out, anyway. By the end of the letter he could only pick out five words.
Remember, I love you.
and
America
He felt a tear slide down his cheek now, recognizing the hand those words had been penned in. He sat back down holding the letter to his chest, “I love you, too.” He could feel it now, things would be alright between them now after all. He only hoped their love would outlast this war.
Author: shuriken7
Claim: Hetalia: America/Canada
Table: General # 1
Word Count: 678
Prompt: Crushed @ 10_hurt_comfort, Table 47/3. Quite Difficult @ 5_prompts
Rating: PG
Summary: War of 1812: Canada hates being caught between a rock and a hard place.
Warnings: Slash. Hetalia deals with the personifications of nation-states. Some of the stories may be historical in nature and others will be examining them as just people. Possible historical inaccuracies.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
It was a difficult time, they were at war and England had forbade him to see the other. It was hard not to as he would see him across the battlefield, looking hurt and angry and not understanding. He would stare back with the same hurt, he hated being caught between them. It was like being trapped against a rock and a hard place, either way he would become crushed.
It was winter and most of the fighting had slowed. The commanders had realized that it was not intelligent to fight battles along the freezing Northern United States and Canadian borders. They would lose too many soldiers to the frost, although some were still hard-headed enough to persist. Canada had retreated to winter quarters. He was grateful that England was once again distracted by France back in Europe and had left. It had been difficult watching him pace the hallways every night, either raging or in quiet contemplation. Both behaviors unnerved Canada more than he would admit.
He sat in the firelight wrapped up in a blanket, staring at a blank piece of parchment. He had felt compelled to write a letter, but he was unsure about how to start. He really didn’t know if he even wanted to. The only words he had written were:
Dear America,
I don’t know what to say to you...
The ink had dripped across the paper, he would have to start the page over, but he couldn’t even bring himself to draft. He tucked the quill back into the ink pot and sat back. He scooted closer to the fire so his feet would not be so cold. “I don’t know what to say to you...” he began into the semi-darkness of the room, “Except that I wish you were here...” He knew he couldn’t commit those words to paper, lest he be accused of treason. He could feel the desires of his people stirring, some hated any connection with the Americans, many were indifferent, many had been Americans, but had wanted to stay with the crown when America separated from Great Britain. He couldn’t really remember a time when he wasn’t at least aware of America, even if they hadn’t met. He could still sense him, somewhere in his own winter quarters, possibly as lonely as he was.
He felt his heart break, he could tell his brother was as unhappy with the war as the rest of them were. It was pride that kept him going. Pride and fear of once again being under England’s control. He wondered if things would ever be okay between the three of them ever again. He could feel his heart clench a little, he tried to hold in the tears as he wadded up the ruined parchment and tossed it in the fire, watching it catch and burn to ashes. He hoped his relationship with his neighbor would not end in the same way. He jumped when he heard a knock at the door.
A messenger stood outside it and offered a letter. It had no mention of where it came from. He thanked the man and closed the door. He unfolded the paper carefully, it looked like it had been dragged through the dirt and gotten wet several times. He stared at it, it had indeed been wet as the ink had run. There were a lot of smudged words, and many of them looked like they had been crossed out, anyway. By the end of the letter he could only pick out five words.
Remember, I love you.
and
America
He felt a tear slide down his cheek now, recognizing the hand those words had been penned in. He sat back down holding the letter to his chest, “I love you, too.” He could feel it now, things would be alright between them now after all. He only hoped their love would outlast this war.