Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money from this!

A/N: Written for a prompt on the 'Hetalia Kink Meme' (on Livejournal). Credit for the idea goes to the anonymous poster!

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude.
– Shakespeare

Cast a Dark Shadow

The forest was quiet as the tiny figure walked.

The snow crunched almost inaudibly beneath small feet and the blue hue of the air was an ill omen drifting across the ground. The little country tried to ignore the frightful feelings as he picked up branches that had fallen from the bare trees for firewood. It was more out of nerves than real necessity though, and as the child continued on slowly, it became more and more obvious that this path had not been used by anyone for a while.

"Bon-Bonjour?" Canada questioned into the empty woods, wide eyes searching for any of his French settlers. He had been seeing fewer and fewer of his caretakers as the days became longer, and finally the little nation had ventured out for fear of being alone in the vast, wild land.

Blond hair shifted in the cold breezes and the child's breath froze faster as he made his way deeper down the path.

"Bonjour?" Canada's calls came more frequently, and he stumbled through the trees more quickly, fear creeping on his heels. So caught up in moving, the small nation was unprepared for when the path suddenly opened up into a wider clearing, and let out a tiny sound of surprise.

There, in the centre of the path – he had happened across a strange man.

Canada held his breath. The man was a towering presence against the snow. His cloak was long and dark, whipping in an invisible wind as he stood. His bushy moustache was brittle, small icicles hanging from the sides. Wrinkles and crows feet around eyes belied his age. He had the appearance of a military man.

"M-monsieur…" Canada spoke up shyly to the imposing figure. "Bless you. H-have you seen-…."

The rest of the question faded away when baleful, black eyes turned themselves on him. The wind picked up and seemed colder, and Canada was stuck shivering, unable to break the frightening stare.

"Hmph." The man muttered, voice accented in a language the small nation did not know. "The ones you are looking for," The man's words were like ice. "I took their lives."

Canada's light blue eyes went wide and the small nation dropped the bundle of wood from shaking hands. He took a step back.

The man's voice was thick and deep.

"And one day, I will come to take yours."

Canada turned and ran.

The small nation ran until he had reached the safety of one of his settlements, and not too soon after, Canada's feet dug into the snow as he trekked desperately to meet with one of his Indian nation friends. The tiny country passed the path into the forest with his eyes lowered, remembering what had lain down there.

"Who is he?" Canada asked timidly, sitting amongst the only people he could rely on now.

"He has many names." A young native girl handed the small nation preserves of vegetables and fruits. "But he is Winter. He will always be there."

Canada stayed silent for a long moment, chewing his small lip uncertainly. "And how… How do you fight Winter?"

The girl blinked at him incredulously, and Canada felt cowed. "You can't fight Winter." She replied.

That night, back in his own place, the tiny nation peeked out between the drafty wooden boards of the shelter, out into the darkened blue snowy world.

General Winter was a shadow amongst the trees, and their eyes met for a chilling second before Canada whirled away from the crack, heart racing in that small chest. The wind howled outside as the child stared into the flickering fire.

Time passed, and the tiny country eventually stepped out into the frigid morning, trying not to think about the terrifying meeting and promise Winter had given to him. The sun shone down harmlessly though, and Canada hummed to himself softly as he tugged a small sled filled with fishing tools behind him. Today everything was calm, and the young nation eagerly made his way to the frozen lake for some much needed food. Sooner or later France would return to this land, and the child vowed he would be there to meet the older nation again.

Standing on the edge of the lake, Canada cautiously stepped onto the thick ice, searching for the best place to fish. His friends had taught him how to do it, and he had gotten very good, quickly boring a small hole and lowering his line.

The small nation lay down on his stomach, hands pillowing his chin as he kicked his legs back and forth, waiting. The lake was so quiet…

A bang startled Canada, and his eyes shot open. The child sat up realizing he had nodded off to sleep for a moment. A glance around, and Canada noticed that the wind had overturned his sled, skidding the craft a ways away from where he sat.

A chill went through Canada's small frame but he shook his head and smiled uneasily. General Winter was not here.

Mustering courage, the tiny nation shimmied gradually across the ice, hand grabbing the cord on his sled and carefully righting it. Canada let out a soft sigh of relief. Now for the trip back.

Canada shifted his weight to turn around, and there was no warning for the crack like a cannon shot, and the icy plunge that suddenly dropped the solid world out from underneath him.

Cold!

The water was so freezing, his thoughts were a chattering whirlwind as his flailing hands searched frantically for the jagged edges of salvation, but stubby fingers only skimmed smooth, perfect ice.

The last thing he saw were dark, dark eyes, before his own light blue ones slowly slipped closed.

When his eyes opened again, it was like the awakening from a nightmare. Canada's breaths came in puffs as the child stared up into the white, cloud-covered sky.

With a start, Canada realized he was back on the bank of the lake. "What?" His voice was hushed and a loud snuffle to his right made the blond boy turn his head in surprise.

A white bear cub sat beside him, staring down imperturbably.

Canada blinked and gingerly sat up. "D-did you save me?"

The bear blinked black eyes lazily back at him and then raised a paw to scratch behind its ear. Canada's expression turned imploring at the animal.

"Was it really you…?"

The child's breathless questions went unanswered, and Canada looked out across the silent snow-covered landscape.

He wondered if one day it would become his burial ground.

"France!"

"Ahh, mon petit!"

Canada smiled widely at France's arrival and struggled not to shed happy tears when the strong nation patted his hair in greeting. The last vestiges of winter had faded away, and Canada managed to forget for a while the presence of that dark and frightening man.

Work in the settlements was of the utmost importance, and Canada hurried to make France proud. Even Kumajirou did some chores, and soon the colony was returned to its former glory.

With France, Canada was protected, safe… warm. But… sometimes France stayed with him… and sometimes the nation left and didn't return for many, many years.

It was then that the creep of the cold nipped at his tiny fingers and nose with acute clarity, and Canada could not help but feel the shivers of death's promise as he walked through the snowy woods.

The wind blew terribly and ice clung to his cloaks, but somehow his feet would bring him back to that place again, and Canada would swallow, stopping to stare at the route which led deep into the forest.

The path was always empty of footsteps. Was he the only one who had ever walked down it? He wondered if General Winter was standing there, in solitude, waiting. Did he wait there for the day that Canada would try to cross him?

The small colony felt scared, but at the same time he wanted to know if the dark figure of the man was there, in that clearing.

Canada turned away from the path, unable to form the courage to do more than look.

The child took a step and bumped into something solid. The blond stumbled back, and gasped, heart beating fast.

"M-monsieur Winter…"

The words were almost lost in the howling weather, and Canada didn't dare try to say more. The imposing man looked down at him through the blistering wind and snow, and Canada blinked vainly and trembled, unable to clearly make the aged face out. It had been a long time since he had last seen it.

His voice stolen away, the small colony could only look on with wide eyes as the General turned, large boots creaking in the deep snow, and started walking in the direction of Canada's house. The man's cloak fluttered serenely and Canada watched, chest fluttering with alarm, before the small nation followed hesitantly behind him, mesmerized by the way the wind and bite of the cold fell everywhere but inside the cast of that long shadow.

And as the years passed by, the old man's cold gaze ceased to be that of a stranger's anymore.

Canada walked alone through the snowy land, General Winter's presence an icy reminder at his shoulder with every step, like a ghost from the grave. One day… it whispered, as the crops froze.

One day…

The seasons changed and his citizens enthusiastically talked about ships arriving on the horizon.

'France!' Canada thought desperately, and ran to wait fervently at the docks.

But the ships that returned weren't French. They were British. Tears fell down round cheeks, but the small nation hastily wiped them away. He was British now.

Everything began changing… but the summers came and went, and his towns grew more and more into cities bustling with life and energy. The harvest came in and it was in his house that Canada noticed the first signs of frost appear on the window panes.

"He's here." The adolescent said suddenly.

"Who?" England seemed to perk up at that, setting down his paperwork. "Another friend?" The British nation waved a hand towards where Kumajirou was lazily sleeping on the rug. "Does this one have any abilities?" The man smiled and chuckled. "Fire-breathing or magical arts, perhaps?"

"Huh?" Young Canada's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "No…" He shook his head in reply and looked out the window again, eyes searching for a hint of that dark figure.

"Winter is here."

"Oh." England slowly lost his cheerfulness, his expression clearly melting into one of unease. "I see…"

Canada loved England, he was a good older brother… but it occurred to Canada that England was afraid – Of him, or of General Winter, Canada wasn't sure. So when the young nation stood on the bank and waved goodbye to the older one while the last leaves of autumn fell to the ground, he watched the ships sail down the St. Lawrence with polite indifference.

His breath soon turned cold and he could hear the tinkling of the wind through the chilled branches of the trees. He knew who was behind him.

"Winter." Canada uttered.

"Da." The imposing figure agreed.

"You're a bit late this year..." Canada observed quietly, smiling hesitantly at the river. His older companion gave no reply but it didn't deter him. "That's all right. But I was thinking about when I would see you."

The blond turned around and General Winter's aged eyes stared down at him. Canada gazed back, his own eyes wide and clear.

The General's moustache seemed to bristle in annoyance, before the deep booming voice reminded him. "One day, I will take your life."

"I know..." A slight tremble still remained in his limbs, but the young nation's expression was absent of fear.

General Winter turned, and each step he took moved his body hundreds of metres away. "You will hope," That voice echoed and the clouds began snowing. "That I am late on that day."

Canada watched that figure disappear into the white and let loose a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

His leadership was changing, his people were changing, everything around him was changing, and more often than not, he saw it happen alone. It seemed like he was perpetually waiting for his guardians to return.

How lonely he must be if he relied on the presence of such a man.

But… General Winter always came, without fail, and it worried Canada to admit that somewhere along the line, he had stopped being afraid.

It was years later still when once again Canada came across that long-ago path deep in the woods. He was growing up fast now, and curiosity sang in his veins as the blond walked down the trail – the stillness of the cold no longer an ominous silhouette warding him away.

Canada stopped short, his breath catching. The General stood before him silently, in that same clearing.

He didn't know why he was surprised to see him – General Winter was always there – but try as he might, his eyes kept straying past the man to where the path continued. Beyond him lay unknown territory.

"If you walk there, I will… most certainly… take your life."

Canada's head snapped up in surprise. It was the first time General Winter had ever spoken to him without prompt. It was the first time his words weren't a threat, but a caution.

Light blue eyes looked back to the path beyond with trepidation stirring inside of him. The youth managed to curb his interest though, instead turning his gaze on the intimidating man. A slight smile appeared on Canada's face. Really, in this sunshine, he wasn't all that intimidating.

Canada bent in the long shadow of the General and picked up some of the soft, powdery snow from the clearing's ground, tossing it up in the air. The sun cast the land into a shimmery glow.

"You must be in a good mood today." Canada said gladly, watching the sparkling crystals.

General Winter's cloak wafted lightly and the old man raised one bushy eyebrow beneath the lip of his military hat.

The action caused a drift of snow to jump and cover the growing nation like a living snow angel. Canada sputtered in shock and flailed, clumsily brushing off the snow. "Wha-wha-what?"

The second eyebrow rose at the youth's incoherency and a larger dumping of snow landed on that blond head.

"Ack!" Canada squawked that time, and rolled around on the clearing floor without much grace.

When the youth finally sat up in embarrassment, Canada stared at General Winter, seeing something very much like amusement glittering in those dark eyes.

The youth pouted and slapped some snow in the old man's direction. Just as quick, Canada gasped, a cringe overtaking his form as he waited for the cold hand of vengeance.

The touch that did follow was like the refreshing sprinkle of cool water on his heated face. Canada opened his eyes and rubbed at his nose and cheeks which had flushed with the cold. The nation tried but was unable to control a smile of delight. The fingers of winter were gentler than he could describe…

General Winter knelt before the growing nation and Canada watched in wonder as the man drew in a deep breath, exhaling in a steady stream, and an arch of icicles formed, like a sparkling doorway to heaven, in the middle of the empty clearing.

Canada inhaled softly, moving to examine the ice with quiet awe, watching his reflection play along the glossy surface. His friend could do something very much like real magic.

Canada froze suddenly. Friend…?

The youth looked to the side hesitantly and saw General Winter sitting there, watching him with those keen eyes, his shadow blue against the snowy ground.

'You can't fight winter.' Canada remembered.

But what if you warmed to him? The youth's heart constricted and it looked as if his icy reflection was already crying. What dangers did something like that promise?

"Go home now." The deep voice rumbled.

The words startled Canada, and the young nation stared at the powerful man uncomprehendingly for a moment.

The General rose ethereally to his feet, piercing gaze now serious. "Go. It will be cold."

As if to punctuate his point, the wind picked up sending Canada's tawny hair blowing around his face. The adolescent didn't need to be told twice, taking one more look at the General before he began running home.

He arrived sooner than he had thought possible, and quickly latched the door, swiftly going to his window. Outside a blizzard raged. He didn't know why he did it, but the young nation stood there for a long, long time, searching for the dark shadows in the blinding white.

General Winter was hard on him sometimes, and life got difficult, but… he got smarter, stronger. The growing nation learned.

Winter stayed longer that year.

Footsteps crunched into the familiar deep snow, the strides long and purposeful, bringing the figure through the woods towards that destination. A blond head of hair was the only lively colour amongst the cool shades of the season.

Canada was tall in the midst of the trees, a far cry from the tiny frightened child he had once been. His newly acquired wire-frame glasses fogged rhythmically with every breath he took, light blue eyes searching for the presence of that dark shadow of a man he had met on a cold, cold night so long ago.

He broke through the overgrown foliage and the adult nation saw him there.

"Winter…" Canada breathed.

Dark eyes struck his and Canada could tell that the General was not happy. The tension of defiance stretched thin between them like the most fragile bows of ice. But he wouldn't turn away this time. He had no more fear, he had no more excuses – he had orders from his newest bosses.

"I'll be walking down there today." The nation nodded towards the path beyond, ignoring his growing apprehension. "I have to see what's out there."

The crack of a hundred breaking branches thundered through the forest and General Winter turned to face Canada fully, his voice a nonnegotiable command.

"You must not."

The order swept over the clearing and the blond forced himself not to wilt, squaring his shoulders and turning imploring eyes to the man he had known for so much of his life.

"I…" Canada's tone was apologetic, and whether it was directed at himself or the General was unclear. "…I have to." He said, and walked past the General on that snowy path to head deeper into the land he had never explored before.

The first few steps were an exhilaration as well as terrifying, and amazement flooded Canada when winter did not immediately intervene.

It did not last long though, and dismay prickled in his fingertips when the snow at his feet became jagged. Canada tripped slightly, but kept walking, chin held up in determination.

The wind began to whip savagely, throwing hail like daggers at his unprotected cheeks, and the nation pressed his lips tight together, raising a hand to shield his face, still moving forward.

The forest floor turned into sheets of ice and this time the nation did fall. Hard. His palms dug against the harsh ground as he skidded down the small slope of the path.

"Aah-!" A gasp tore itself from the blond's throat after he stopped tumbling and eyes widened in shock as the nation looked up to see General Winter begin to walk after him.

Panic flaring in his chest, Canada struggled to his feet and began to run.

General Winter's voice echoed all around him. "You will not!"

Canada's breaths came in puffs as he ran blindly through the storm. He dodged drifts and stumbled as the gusts of wind threatened to send him to his knees. He broke through a sharp gate of icicles that leapt up to keep him from escape – and suddenly stopped.

The edge of a cliff face loomed before him, and Canada's heart seized, chest heaving as he realized there was no where left to run. It was one instant, frozen in time, and standing at the edge of death, he felt more alive than he had ever before.

The chill of the cold touched at his shoulder, and he knew who was behind him. Canada smiled slightly and the first tears slipped over his cheeks.

"Is this the day… you take my life?" His words were almost lost to the storm again, but somehow he knew he had been heard.

The deathly freeze of silence answered him, and tears cascaded down his face freely, eyes squeezing shut. Canada felt a strange warmth fill him, and recognized it as… regret. He had forgotten that winter had been waiting – waiting for just this moment.

He thought of all the long years, in the vast, wild, land and remembered the times that the man had ceased to be a stranger, but a shadow of relief to that cruel loneliness… It hurt to realize, that the only one who had always been there, every year, without fail, was the one who would end it all.

It hurt to acknowledge that… maybe he had grown used to the shivery touches on his cheeks… and maybe he had walked to that clearing in the woods so many times for completely different reasons altogether.

Canada sank to his knees. He could not fight it. He wouldn't run any longer. The snow whipped around his shaking form and the nation thought that if this were to be the final sweet embrace of the General… then…

Canada waited for the blows sure to come.

The creak of heavy boots was muffled by the snow, and the nation could almost feel the cast of that dark shadow, willing away the worst of the blizzard.

A deep sigh sounded from that low tone. "You will not…" The voice rumbled behind him, and Canada felt a large, gloved hand briefly hold his shoulder.

"You will not go alone."

As soon as it had all began, the howl of the weather dissipated and Canada's eyes flew open. The snowflakes that fell around him gently kissed his face and the nation glanced around wildly, searching for any trace of the man.

There was no one but the soft, quiet blanket of snow.

Astonishment covered the nation's features at the promise he had been given. And Canada wondered…If he had been waiting for a guardian, had the General, too, been waiting for someone to guard…

'You can't fight winter.' Canada knew, and little by little, he smiled. You can't fight winter… But winter could fight for you.

Canada blinked away the tears and stood up slowly, gazing out at the pristine land before him. In all that time, he had not been the only one, who was lonely.

And winter was beautiful.

The alarm clock sounded in the huge house and a hand came down to shut the buzzer off. Outside the wind began rattling at the windows in impatience, but it needn't do that – He had already been awake.

Canada stretched and quickly donned his coat, pulling on his favourite toque and heading towards the door. The nation walked with intention, anticipation driving the young adult to take long strides. He didn't want to be late for this meeting.

The air was crisp as he made his way, walking along with many different groups of families and rambunctious children who were enjoying the morning. The steps he took he knew by heart, and the crowd soon thinned when he saw him.

He was there, in the centre of that clearing, just like hundreds of years before. A lot had changed since that time though, and it amused the nation to see the older man had adapted to sitting on one of the many sturdy stone benches that now decorated the walk.

Canada smiled warmly.

"Hello again, Father Winter."

The side of the aged man's mouth curled up briefly into a smile under that frozen moustache.

"Da," He replied.

General Winter stood, and those dark eyes looked at the nation expectantly. Canada immediately hurried to the man's side, and, that day…

They walked down the snowy path together.

End