Family/Pairing: Alfred and Arthur (with a little bit of GerEng)
Word Count: 1095
Author’s Note: Sorry this was a little late. I ended up getting busy with work and then I left for vacation and only had a little time to actually work on it. I felt like I made Arthur too nice, but then I remembered when he’s sick he tends to be nicer so I guess it's not too ooc
A Pretty Good Birthday
Arthur never showed up for his birthday. At first, Alfred had assumed he was still butthurt about the Revolutionary war, but when the Brit finally did come, barely able to stand and blood trickling from his mouth, Alfred realized that there was more to it. He didn’t fully understand why Arthur’s health deteriorated so much on the 4th of July and he never had the heart to ask. Still, every year he had hoped Arthur would accept his invitation, even if he only popped in to say ‘happy birthday' a day before. If he had it his way, Alfred would have all his friends and family at his party which included Arthur, but the world didn’t work like that.
He hadn’t expected Arthur this year since he only came once in a blue moon and had popped in the day before last year. So when he saw Arthur, entering the garden, holding onto Ludwig’s arm to support himself, Alfred was more than a little shocked. He was delighted too, but mainly shocked. He tried to remain cool, gliding over to the two to greet them.
“Yo, Arthur, Lud, glad you two could make it,” Alfred greeted with a big smile.
Arthur let out a small groan. “Could you maybe tone it down?”
“Oh yeah...Sorry dude, I’m just so pumped, we got so much planned. There’s the barbeque, the backyard games, oooh the fireworks-”
“That all sounds nice Alfred,” Ludwig interjected, “but could we maybe continue this conversation sitting down? Arthur may be here but he’s still not feeling too good.”
“I’m fine love really.” As soon as Arthur said those words he brought his handkerchief to his mouth, coughing into it.
“Ja and I hate dogs. Now about that chair.”
Alfred’s smile faltered slightly as he noticed the new red patch on the piece of fabric. “Oh y-yeah, of course, this way,” he said, guiding them over to a bench that sat in the middle of the garden. After a little more conversing, the American eventually wandered off to another group of party-goers.
He spent the rest of the evening and night talking to all his guests, playing a few games, and eating all his favorite foods. It was a fun time and he had almost forgotten all about Arthur. Once things began to slow down and the sky grew darker, Alfred figured it was best he go check on him.
He found Arthur on the same bench he last left him at, but this time, he was alone. Being the good host that he was, Alfred went over. “Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked, taking a seat beside Arthur.
“Like crap, but I’ve dealt with worse, and to be fair, I think it's getting better every year.”
“Good...Good…How are you liking the party?”
“It's nice to be outside. The garden is just as beautiful as I remember it from my last visit."
"Yeah. It's not really my thing - gardening I mean- But I do like being surrounded by plants and flowers."
Arthur nodded. "I take it there will be fireworks?" he questioned after a moment.
"Heck yeah dude! Always."
Arthur grimaced. "Oh...lovely."
"You alright?"
"Just splendid.”
Alfred couldn’t shake the feeling something else was wrong, but he didn’t want to push and get into an argument. Normally he didn’t mind it and spoke whatever came to his mind, but at least for today, he didn’t want to lose this nicer, calmer Arthur. It reminded him of how Arthur once was when he himself was younger and under the care of the Englishman. Sometimes he missed those days, but at the same time, he didn’t regret becoming independent or breaking away from Arthur. It was a weird mix that not even he understood.
Alfred was pulled out of his thoughts by Arthur coughing into his handkerchief. After the fit subsided, the Brit slumped against the bench. “You know you and Lud can stay over tonight if you aren’t feeling good to travel,” Alfred suggested.
“I-I’m fine. I’ve dealt with this for over two centuries.”
“But Artie, you need to rest if you’re not feeling well.” That’s what you always told me was what he wanted to add, but he didn’t, not wanting to bring up any painful memories. After a pleading look, Arthur finally cracked and agreed to stay for the night. “Okay...Okay...If I’m going to stay, would it be alright for me to head in?”
“Of course. Here let me help you.” Alfred went to support him until Arthur swatted his hand away.
“I’m fine,” Arthur hissed. So much for that nice streak. But the Brit wasn’t fine and as he got up he almost fell right back down. After a few more failed attempts, he finally accepted Alfred’s help. The American guided Arthur to the guest room where he sat the man down on the bed. “Okay...so...I’m going to go get Ludwig and let him know you’re staying. There are some spare Pjs in the closet if you want. Fireworks are in fifteen minutes or so.” Alfred looked around the room before concluding, “and that should be everything.”
“Ah yes...seems like everything is under control. Um...I guess a thanks is in order.”
“Don’t mention it, dude. I’m the hero after all and heroes help people.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur sighed, laying back onto the bed.
Though there was not really anything to say, Alfred lingered a little bit longer before slowly making his way to the door. He didn’t fully understand why, but he felt...disappointed? Like something was missing. He may have not been one to read the atmosphere but it almost felt like things were being left unsaid. Actually, all his conversations with Arthur that evening seemed to be left like that.
“Alfred?” Arthur called as the American reached the door. He heard the Brit take a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ve told you this yet, but...happy birthday. A-And I don’t say this enough, but each year, despite how bad I feel, I’m reminded of how proud of you I am and who’ve you become.”
Alfred swallowed hard before turning back towards Arthur. He never realized until now, how much he needed to hear those words from him. A wide grin spread across his face. “Thanks, dude...I’m glad you could make it this year.” He turned back towards the door, but before leaving he added, “Also I’ll make sure to save you some cake for tomorrow when you're feeling better. After all, Mattie made it!”
Before he closed the door, Alfred heard Arthur chuckle slightly. It turned out to be a pretty good birthday.
Thanks @hetafamilyweek for putting this event together. It was a lot of fun even though I didn’t have enough motivation to do it every day’s prompt. That’s what I get for doing events back to back lol.
“You’re really doing this to me. I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.” Henri grumbled at his big brother before taking a more accusing tone of voice to add “I trusted you.”
Said older brother seemed to pay no more attention to him than he did to any of Henri’s bosses as he continued to drag the younger man out of his office and away from his work. There was so much work that needed attention!
Not that he dared to look at his own bosses for help, he was so embarrassed that they saw him like this. Pulled out of his office and soon out of the building entirely while clutching a single file of paperwork to his chest. He was completely certain they had been able to listen to the brothers argue in his private office before Ned had slammed that door open and forced the smaller nation out.
“Johan,” he tried again, “I told you how much work I have left to do. I’m sorry I don’t have time to come to the party, you know I’ll really try to be there next time.” The only thing that earned him was Johan quickening his pace.
As soon as they were out of sight, the taller man turned around. “You should thank me, Lux. Emma wanted to drag you out of here herself.”
A brief silence followed. “Think about that.”
He did.
He knew what that would have meant. Childhood stories.
Lukas couldn’t stop himself from sighing again as he listened to more shouting and new promises of a brutal and painful death coming from the living room while he continued making breakfast. Didn’t Magnus and Berwald have better, or at least other, things to worry about this early in the morning.
The days of throwing axes at each other when they disagreed or tried to prove who was the better warrior were so far in the past, why did they insist to bring that up again.
“Breakfast is ready.” He simply called out, loud enough for all people present to hear.
The first response he got was louder swearing and a new set of death threats. As if life was going to be as easy as announcing the arrival of food.
At least Timo and Emil took a seat at the table without making a noise.
“Breakfast. Food. Now!” He shouted this time.
Nothing changed at that and Lukas lost his patience with the last two nations to join the table and stomped into the leaving room where the yelling and swearing continued before he walked over to the far wall and pulled out the plug, which very effectively ended the game the two tallest men of the group had been playing.
Spluttering, disagreeing noises where made behind him, Denmark and Sweden both insisting they had been winning the fight. Lukas didn’t care and ignored it as he walked back to the kitchen to eat his breakfast.
Natalia had found herself a nice little corner to sit down, out of sight of most of the people at the usual after meeting party. Her bosses had told her to attend and interact more with others at these parties, even though they were well aware of her dislike of those unplanned events. She preferred to get the next plane or train back home and leave the others to waste their time.
Lost in thought about how she could have been reading through the documents she was holding in her hands instead of actually reading the contents of said papers, the blonde woman almost failed to notice the sudden presence next to her. Almost, and she was ready to make threats of any kind to chase away whomever disturbed her from her work.
She didn’t get any real chance to strike before her wrist was caught in a strong, firm grip that could have actually hurt her. Belarus knew that the moment she looked up and saw that the hand holding her arm belonged to her older brother.
“Natasha,” he started “I know you’re supposed to be talking to the others.” She stared up at him. “They wanted me to be here, so here I am.” Ivan shook his head and tried again to convince her. “You’re cannot hide here in this corner. Our sister is worried about you.”
Looking back at the crowd she simply admitted the truth to her beloved big brother. “I don’t want the be here and talk to them.”
Russia pulled her close against him into a nearly crushing hug. “I know, little sister.” Before letting her out of his tight grip while wrapping an arm gently around her shoulders and dragged her along to all the conversations he had with other nations that evening.
Day 4 for @hetafamilyweek. Also cross-posted to my ao3!
I'm sorry it took so long to post this, school started again and I did not have the spoons to focus on this after school. So it might take a bit longer than expected to finish this. Now, onto the chapter!
I blame @tiredmay
Names:
Willem = Netherlands
Femke = Belgium
Laurent = Luxembourg
Matthew = Canada
Antonio = Spain
Ludwig = Germany
Tw: fire (a building burning down), cursing, an all caps sentence
''Well, I'd say that went well,'' Laurent said. Willem and Femke turned to stare at him.
''What part of this went well?! The hotel is going up in flames, and we're still lost!''
''Eh, small details.''
Willem and Femke looked at each other.
''Lau, did you get possessed or something? Do you even hear yourself?'' Femke asked, incredulously.
''No, wait, I think I missed something. Since when is this a hotel?''
''It's a hotel for parentless children, of course.''
''… I am this close to strangling both of you.'' Willem facepalmed. How on earth did they end up at a burning orphanage on their way to their family vacation? No wait, he knew the answer to that. The three of them were too busy bickering to really notice the map, getting lost as a result. Well. Maybe he should text Mattie to see how they feel about adopting a kid?
''… Maybe we should help?'' Femke said after a moment of silence.
''Fem... As much as I hate to say it, I don't think that's a good idea,'' Willem replied. Seeing his sister's defiant look, he added on, ''We're not trained firefighters, and if we go in without any kind of fire-resistant clothes and walk out alive, without any lasting injuries, how're we going to explain that?''
His sister sighed frustratedly, rubbing at her eyes. ''You're right,'' she said, sounding tired.
''I don’t like it any more than you do, Fem, but- Laurent, what the fuck do you think you're doing?''
Laurent was currently running towards the orphanage, despite the clearly panicked protests from the people around them.
''Laurent, get back here!'' Femke shouted, running after him. For fucks sake, did both of his siblings have a death wish? If Ludwig got wind of this, they'd never hear the end of it.
Groaning, he started to walk forward to where his siblings had run off into the building. He quickly got stopped by one of the firefighters though, who asked him where the hell he thought he was going. He quickly explained the situation to the best of his abilities (just because he was currently somewhere in Spain, even though they were supposed to be in France, and the fact that he could speak both languages just fine, didn't mean he had to like it, or even pretend to be good at it. Fuck you, Antonio. And before you ask, yes he knows how petty he's being. Let him have his fun).
Suffice to say, he didn't get past the firefighter. Not that he needed to, because to the shock of everyone else, his siblings came out of the orphanage, a couple of kids huddled around them. All of them were miraculously unharmed. And naturally, Femke and Laurent were bickering. He could already feel a headache forming. Ludwig was not going to be amused.
---
Ludwig was not, in fact, amused. Willem got that much as he was woken up at six in the goddamn morning during his vacation by angry German yelling coming through his phone.
''Willem, was zum fick habt ihr euch gedacht, dass ihr in ein brennendes kinderheim reingerannt seid?!''
''Ook een goedemorgen, Ludwig, ja het gaat goed met ons en de kinderen, niemand raakte gewond. En vraag dat maar aan Femke en Laurent, zij zijn namelijk degenen die het brandende weeshuis in renden.''
Yeah, waking up to angry German yelling really was not his ideal wake-up call, but what're you going do about it. Oh right. Pressing the red button, Willem effectively ended the call. Then, he sent a text to his cousin.
'Call me back at a more reasonable time, you heathen.'
Ignoring all other incoming calls, he put his phone down and went back to bed, hoping to catch some sleep before his gremlin siblings decided to wake him up for breakfast.
---
A stressful day later, they arrived at their intended location. After Ludwig had called him back and chewed out all three of them, they decided to leave as soon as possible, before any of the people that were there at the orphanage came looking for them.
Currently, they were enjoying the sunset while lounging on the beach, nursing a drink. Suddenly, Femke sighed.
''You know... I have a feeling our vacation isn't going to get any more exciting than it’s been so far.''
''Sure, if you can call running into a burning orphanage exiting,'' Willem said. ''Besides, I do not feel like being yelled at by Ludwig again anytime soon.''
Femke only hummed in response.
''I do agree with Willy on this, big sis,'' Laurent said. He was laying on the sand, one hand over his head, the other tracing shapes in the sand. ''I just want to have a relaxing vacation, with no burning orphanages or yelling Germans.'' Willem snorted at that.
''Don’t worry, broertje, no more yelling Ludwigs will be encountered during this trip.''
''Merci Gott.''
''Hey, Lau,'' Femke said conversationally.
''Yeah?''
''Are you just going to lay there for the rest of the evening?''
''Probably, why do you- AAAAAH WAT DE FUCK, DAT ASS KALT!'' Laurens screamed as he jumped up to get away from the cold water. Femke was wheezing, as was Willem.
''You guys are so mean!''
''Thanks, we try.'' Willem was smirking now.
''Aaschlach.''
''Klootzak.''
''Stop it, you two,'' Femke said, rolling her eyes. ''We should head back to the house.''
''Do we have to?''
Femke gave Laurent a deadpan stare at his question. After a few seconds, he sighed. ''Fine. But can we come back tomorrow?''
''Sure.'' She leaned closer to Laurent and said in a stage whisper: ''Perhaps we can even throw Willy in the ocean.'' Her brother gave her a mischievous grin.
''Hey, I heard that!''
Laughing, they took off running towards their house, Willem chasing after them, also grinning. And if Willem caught them and threw them into the ocean? Well, there would be several occasions for revenge.
---------------
Translations:
Willem, was zum fick habt ihr euch gedacht, dass ihr in ein brennendes kinderheim reingerannt seid?! (German) = ''Willem, what the fuck were you guys thinking, running into a burning orphanage like that?!''
Ook een goedemorgen, Ludwig, ja het gaat goed met ons en de kinderen, niemand raakte gewond. En vraag dat maar aan Femke en Laurent, zij zijn namelijk degenen die het brandende weeshuis in renden. (Dutch) = A good morning to you too, Ludwig, yes us and the children are doing fine, no one got hurt. And you can ask Femke and Laurent that, they're the ones that ran into a burning orphanage.
Broertje (Dutch) = little brother
Merci Gott (Luxembourgish) = Thank god
AAAAH WAT DE FUCK, DAT ASS KALT! (Luxembourgish) = AAAAAAH WHAT THE FUCK, THAT’S SO COLD
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary: Belgium took a step closer so she could take a hold of Netherlands’ hand. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”
Netherlands squeezed his fingers around her palm. “Then why do I get the feeling that you are angry with me?”
Author’s note: Written for day six of @hetafamilyweek. The prompt was hurt/comfort or betrayal and it's honestly a bit of both. I always wanted to write about The Eighty Years War and this prompt helped me to finally sit down and do it. I really love trying to find the perfect way to explain these important historical events through the POV of a personified nation. I love figuring out a way to simplify the history just enough to make it understandible, to try and discern how it makes these nations feel and how it affects their relationships.
Family: Tulip Siblings
Rating: General Audiences
Word count: 2.255
─1609─
After 43 years of constant fighting, the desperate situation of Spain’s finances forced him to prepare for peace negotiations with Netherlands. On 9 April 1609, in Antwerp, Belgium, a ceasefire was signed that ended decades of hostilities. The Twelve Years’ Truce.
For Netherlands, the ceasefire was a triumph. His independence finally received formal recognition by outside powers. And his seafaring adventures had his economy booming like never before. All at the cost of Spain’s empire.
For Spain, the ceasefire was an utter humiliation. He was forced to accept Netherlands’ commercial operations in both the West and the East Indies, colonial maritime lanes that had been decisively Spanish and Portuguese before today. And the Scheldt remained permanently closed to traffic in and out of Antwerp, and thus, the Spanish empire.
For Belgium, the ceasefire was cause for both joy and anger.
Detaching herself from Spain’s side after the signing of the documents, she approached her brother, his States-General and his Stadtholders.
“I assume congratulations are in order,” she interrupted their conversation.
All heads turned towards her, smiles still plastered on most of their faces, drunk on their victory.
Netherlands’ previous expression of joy diminished somewhat when he noticed Belgium’s clenched jaw underneath the demure tilt of her lips.
“Ah,” he cleared his throat and addressed the men around him. “Heren, let me introduce you to my sister, the Spanish Netherlands.”
As a woman, propriety would have dictated her to courtesy. Instead, Belgium gave them all the smallest inclination of her head and a look that dared them to comment on her freshly acquired nation-name.
“Enchanté,” she said, deliberately.
Netherland’s eyes narrowed. “Ignorance doesn’t suit you, Marie. You know these men, the leaders of the now formally recognized Dutch Republic, do not speak French.”
“Oh, I know that,” Belgium tilted her head to the side innocently. “But isn’t that what you wanted me to be? A French territory? You know, since you offered France, well─ me when you bargained for his military aide against Spain?”
That made the so-called ‘leaders of the now formally recognized Dutch Republic’ clear their throats and look at anything but the personified nations in their midst, before making their quick escape with half-mumbled apologies.
Netherlands’ cheeks flushed, both in embarrassment and frustration. “That strategy didn’t even work.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better about it?”
“And am I supposed to be happy about the fact that it was you who almost annihilated France’s armies and made me lose a potential ally?” Netherlands scowled. “I only struck that deal because I wanted to save you from Spain.”
“Horseshit,“ Belgium spat. “You wanted to take me from Spain.”
“Is there a difference?”
There was most definitely a difference. If Spain had forced Belgium to stay by his side, Netherlands would have indeed been saving her. If he had succeeded, that is. But Belgium had chosen to stay with Spain, instead of joining a treacherously unstable rebellion against the greatest empire the world had ever seen. Her brother knew this. She did not need to explain the difference to him. So, Belgium simply replied,
“Ignorance doesn’t suit you, Jan.”
Belgium could see a smirk threatening to show on Netherlands’ lips when he had his own words thrown back in his face. He had always enjoyed his sister’s wit.
The sight made Belgium involuntarily smile. It was barely visible, but to someone who knew her ─had known her for centuries─ it would be plain to see.
Belgium’s heart suddenly felt very heavy. She sighed. “I’m just glad this war is over. I missed you, brother.”
Netherlands’ expression grew soft. “And I you, sister.”
Belgium took a step closer so she could take a hold of Netherlands’ hand. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”
Netherlands squeezed his fingers around her palm. “Then why do I get the feeling that you are angry with me?”
“Because I am. And you know why.”
“Because you are not on my side of the table?”
Belgium let go of her brother’s hand, frustration evident on her face. “No.”
“Then why?”
Belgium looked at him incredulously. “Because ever since you decided to block the Scheldt river, my economy has disastrously declined. You know how much the port of Antwerp means to me. How much of my people’s wealth and prosperity rests on its revenue. It’s been like this for more than a decade, and now I see that one of your demands for this ceasefire is to keep the Scheldt closed to traffic? I had hoped that─”
“─That I would stop the blockade so your port can once more be the greatest source of income for Spain?” He gave her a pointed look. “I’m sorry, Marie, but that would be an incredibly stupid decision on my part.”
“But it is also my greatest source of income,” Belgium bristled. “How am I supposed to survive if you take that away from me? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you redirecting the ships to your port of Amsterdam.”
“So, what? You would have me send those ships with their cargo back from where they came?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Belgium gritted her teeth. “No, I would have you open up the Scheldt river so they could reach their intended destination.”
Netherlands closed his eyes briefly and drew his eyebrows together. “I’m sorry, Marie, but I cannot do that.”
“So you would have me and Louis starve?”
“Of course not,” he glared at her. “You’re too smart to ever let that happen. You can still trade on land. You’ll be fine. And besides,” his voice turned resentful. “You made your bed when all of this started. You chose Spain. Now you can lie in it.”
Belgium did not appreciate the thinly veiled allegory her brother was making. “Good God, Jan,” she sighed in exasperation, feeling like she had needed to defend herself against her brother’s accusations too many times now. “You know it’s not as simple as that.”
From the very beginning Belgium had shared Netherlands’ dislike for the despotic way in which Spain established himself, but Belgium had more experience in navigating the rules of a new overlord. Bending them in such a way that it would favour her own interests. She and Luxembourg had been France’s from the 12th to the 14th century, so having someone make decisions in her stead wasn’t new to Belgium. Using her charm and wit to influence said decisions wasn’t either.
Netherlands never had that practice. Instead, he had had the practice of being mostly on his own for the first time in centuries. And ─coincidentally or not─ he had thrived in those 200 years. Transitioning from farm boy to tradesman, with an appetite for profit.
“So you keep saying.”
Belgium’s expression was pained. “Because it is the truth. Why can’t you see that?”
Netherlands averted his eyes. “The only thing I can see is you not being by my side at this very moment.” His voice was heavy. “We’ve always been together,” he continued when his sister did not respond. “We’re supposed to be together.”
There was a lump forming in Belgium’s throat. “If that’s the case,” her eyes burned at the corners, “then why are there two of us?”
Netherlands’ eyes shot back towards her, filled with a familiar kind of despair. Belgium had to look away.
Both of them had voiced this thought, this concern, before. Mumbled in hushed tones. Afraid of what it would mean.
Apart from those two centuries were Belgium and Luxembourg barely saw their older brother because of their forced allegiance towards France, they had always been together.
Belgium and Netherlands had known each other since they were children during the days of Gaul and Rome. And when both ancient nations had disappeared, they had instinctively found each other, forming the sibling-like bond that had gotten them through many shared hardships.
When they found Luxembourg in the year 963, there was no doubt in either’s mind. He was to be their little brother. Their family was complete.
But the fact remained that they were all separate beings, representing different people and lands and beliefs.
Belgium knew something was about to drastically chance when Netherlands and his people started to reject the Catholic faith in favour of the more recent Protestant ideas. It was the greatest cause of tension between him and Spain who ─like his King─ was a devout Catholic and intolerable of any other religion then the ─in their eyes─ one true faith.
Spain’s distaste for Netherlands’ religious defiance was made abundantly clear when he had the Duke of Alba establish the Council of Troubles to punish the ringleaders for their insurrection. So many were executed that it quickly became known as the Council of Blood.
“There are two of us,” Netherlands spoke, voice like acid. “Because you were too blinded by Spain’s praise and attention to see that he is nothing more than a bloodthirsty klootzak who would destroy you in a heartbeat if it benefitted him.”
The lump in Belgium’s throat evaporated. “Blinded?” she echoed, a shrill laugh escaping her at the implication. “Blinded? The only one who is blind here, is you for not recognizing how wrong that statement is!”
Netherlands opened his mouth to retort but Belgium cut him off, the sting of her eyes now more of anger then of sadness.
“Do you think I did not see my people being executed alongside yours? Do you think I did not notice that some of them joined your rebels because they too resented Spanish authority? Do you honestly believe I closed my eyes when Spanish soldiers went on a murderous rampage in Antwerp because they hadn’t been paid in months? Do you really think I just stood by and let that happen?”
The events of those horrible three days were carved, literally, into her skin and the wounds throbbed painfully when she remembered every plea, every scream and every heart that had abruptly stopped beating.
Netherlands’ expression turned from doubtful to concern when he saw Belgium suddenly clutching at the ribs on her left side. His hand twitched forward instinctively to comfort her, but he stopped himself and balled his hand into a fist instead when Belgium’s eyes locked onto his own, flashing with a recollection of grief and fury.
“Did you forget that after that… incident,” she ground out, “the Duke of Alba was replaced by the Duke of Parma, who was a lot less barbaric? Who managed that, you think?”
Netherlands’ eyebrows raised up in realization, but lowered again when he said, “Maybe so, but it was the Duke of Parma who recaptured all the cities my rebels held in, well─”
“─in my lands,” Belgium said. “My cities. The cities you used as rebel strongholds against Spain’s armies.”
“You did not stop me from taking them.”
“Because I did not want to stop you,” Belgium’s voice lowered in frustration at her brother’s stubborn unwillingness in seeing the last few decades through her eyes. “I wanted you to succeed, because many of my own people wanted you to succeed. Because a large part of them wanted to follow your rebels’ example and tear away from Spain. A large part of me wanted that too. But the other part, the larger part of my people… they just wanted the violence to stop. They never minded being under Spanish authority because their lives weren’t much different than before. They were Catholics, ruled by a Catholic. Life was good and easy and kind. My life was good and easy and kind. And the larger part of me wanted that life again. To go back to the way things were.”
Netherlands sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “The life you had with me? Or the life you had with Spain?”
Belgium’s jaw clenched, her lips pressed tightly together. The stare her brother directed towards her was intense and full of contempt.
“So, it’s the latter,” Netherlands answered his own question when Belgium said nothing, and in doing so, said everything. “Well, in that case: congratulations, you can play pretend at being a happy little family once again.”
He gave her a curt nod and turned to leave.
“So that’s it?” Belgium hated how desperate her voice sounded. “This is how we leave each other?”
Already half-turned, Netherlands looked at her sideways. “What else is there to say?”
“I─ I don’t know,” Belgium admitted. “I just─”
But it was at that moment that Spain called out to her and Belgium closed her eyes in defeat, knowing full well that their conversation had come to an end.
“Bella,” a warm hand came to rest on her shoulder and she opened her eyes again at the touch, only to see there was no one standing in front of her anymore. “There is nothing left here to do for us. Let’s go home.”
Belgium swallowed, hard. “Yes,” she said as she watched her brother standing once more with his leaders, shoulders squared and decidedly not looking back towards her. “Let’s go home.”
From the other side of the room, Netherlands turned his head to see his sister leave, her hand nestled comfortably in the crook of Spain’s elbow. Just before they were out of view, he saw Spain pressing a kiss to the side of her forehead, a look of possessive adoration on his face, and Netherlands felt something tightening in his chest at the sight. His nostrils flared and he swore then and there that he would get her back.
Thank you anyone who participated and for all of you who shared amazing works that were done for the event! Remember, we're still reblogging all your works as long as you @ us and use our tag! Let's hope to meet again next year, ciao!
