Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.

Chapter One

Arthur marched through the entrance hall of the hotel room. He held his head high and kept his back straight, determined to not allow his newest war injuries to cripple him. He ignored the elegance of the room around him. The marble floors and walls decorated with fine art and the glistening chandelier hanging above his head meant nothing to him as he furrowed his brow, deep in thought. He was currently, much to his distaste, at the hotel for a meeting with the personification of the United States of America. It was not his idea, however one political meeting led to another, and Churchill believed this last attempt to gain America's support in the war would prevail. Until now, the two nations had not seen each other since the war had begun, and Arthur was perfectly fine with keeping it that way.

As if that wasn't enough to completely irk the Brit, he learned right before his arrival that the personification of France would be joining them. How the Frenchman was able to momentarily flee France while it was under German control was beyond Arthur, seeing as how easily the man surrendered his country. A small smirk crept onto his face as he imagined the man being forced back to France by German military commanders.

Arthur reached a hallway, confirmed his whereabouts with a directional sign hanging on the marble wall, and proceeded to make his way down the hall. The flooring beneath his military boots changed from hard marble to plush, red carpet. After passing a few doors, he reached the conference room where he knew the two men he was meeting with were waiting. He took a deep breath, wincing ever so slightly as it caused a flash of pain in his ribs where he had not completely healed from his latest battle, and opened the large door.

He immediately felt the eyes of the room's occupants fall upon him. He stood at the door frame, refusing to feel self-conscious. His eyes glared in response, and his body stiffened. A heavy silence filled the air, and Arthur knew all too well who would be the one to shatter it.

"Arthur," the American said, a smile plastered on his face, "how are you?"

The Brit's glare filled with venom, all directed towards the American. He had been fighting in a war, watching his allies quickly leave him, forced to swallow his pride to fly all the way across the Atlantic Ocean to beg the American for help, and the man had the gall to sit in front him, smile, and ask him how he was?

The smile disappeared from the American's lips as he noticed the tension and anger building up in the Brit's body. The heavy silence returned, and the man could only watch Arthur struggle to keep his composure as his emotional mask cracked slightly. To the American's momentary relief, the Briton finally began to speak.

"How am I doing?" Arthur repeated, disbelief and sarcasm dripping from his every word. "I'm bloody fantastic, Alfred! You have no idea how amazing this past year has been. One grand, amazing thing just keeps happening after the other! You have no idea just how bloody fantastic I've been."

Alfred looked down at the conference room table, unable to meet Arthur's eyes. The Briton continued to glare, causing Alfred to squirm uncomfortably in his chair.

"Look," Arthur said, reining in his annoyance, "I suspect that you've been told that this meeting would consist of me begging for your help and support in this war. I'm sure that you thought that you were merely here to humor my people and myself." Alfred opened his mouth to provide his counter-argument, but a sharp look from Arthur caused him to close it again. Arthur continued. "Well Alfred, I will have you know that you are highly mistaken. I am the British Empire. I have seen and been through much worse, and I refuse to back down and kiss your arse for help in this war."

Silence once again returned to the room. Arthur had calmed slightly, his face masking and protecting the emotions running through his being. Alfred stared at Arthur, wondering exactly when he would be able to sum up the thoughts running around in his head. The blatant and vulgar tone of Arthur's comment had surprised the American and thrown him off guard. He opened and closed his mouth several times, never deciding on exactly what he wanted to say.

"Angleterre, zis war 'as been very stressful on us all," France said. Alfred jumped, forgetting that the French nation was in the room. Arthur merely shifted his glare over to the Frenchman, his earlier anger returning upon seeing the man.

"What's the matter, Francis? Having trouble hosting your Nazis, are you?" Arthur spat at him. He had not forgiven the man for leaving him alone and without allies in the war. Francis merely gave Arthur a tired and knowing look. He had expected Arthur's comment, and was slightly relieved to receive it. He had not seen the Brit since France had surrendered to German control, and Francis was wondering exactly how the man was holding up. While he knew that it would take a great force to bring down the British Empire, the obvious injuries Arthur had received since their last meeting concerned the Frenchman.

"You need 'elp, Angleterre. Do not allow your stubbornness to blind you to zat fact," Francis replied, smiling sadly. Arthur's steel gaze studied Francis, his emotions still hidden on his face. Arthur would not allow his composure to falter. Eventually, Arthur tore his gaze away from Francis and returned his attention to Alfred. Swallowing some of his pride, he took a deep breath and addressed the American.

"My people wish for your assistance in this war. If you could aid us in any way possible, it would be greatly appreciated," Arthur said, his eyes never breaking the eye contact he held with Alfred. While it killed him to say those words, Alfred and Francis would only see those determined, emerald eyes and a face filled with the desire to win.

"Especially," Arthur continued, "seeing as how easily our allies are willing to turn their backs to us." Francis narrowed his eyes at the Brit. Arthur chose to ignore him.

"My people want to remain neutral, Arthur," Alfred replied, finding his voice again. "We don't want to get involved in European affairs, especially after the Great War." Arthur nodded in response.

"Understandable," he said.

"But I'll do what I can," Alfred finished. Arthur nodded in acknowledgement of Alfred's statement. Alfred smiled at the Briton, observing Arthur as he did. While the Brit still held onto his determined personality, the spark in his eyes was starting to die as exhaustion crept into its place. Shadows found their way underneath his eyes, and his skin was paler than usual. His unruly, blond hair was duller in color. It was obvious that Arthur was not sleeping nearly as much as he should, and the American noticed he looked thinner than usual. He wondered just how many injuries Arthur was hiding underneath his clothing.

"Then I suppose this meeting has reached its end," Arthur said. He nodded to Alfred and ignored Francis completely as he turned to leave the conference room. The Frenchman and the American watched Arthur as he left. His back remained straight and the two could feel the authority radiating from him. The two men noticed that Arthur had a slight limp that he was unable to hide, however Arthur refused to acknowledge it. After the Brit left the room, Francis turned to Alfred.

"Do what you can, Amerique," he said. "'e will never voice 'ow much 'e really needs your 'elp." Alfred shifted his gaze from the conference room doors where Arthur previously stood to meet Francis. He looked at the Frenchman, unsure of what to say. Francis felt the American's confusion. "I must return to France before my absence is noticed." Alfred nodded.

"Like I said, I'll do what I can, but I can't fight my people on this. I want to help, I really do, but I can't just go around doing what I want without considering my people or my boss," he said. Francis closed his eyes and allowed a small smile to take over his face. He rarely saw this side of Alfred as the spirited American unintentionally made it a habit to allow personal feelings to influence his decisions in important matters. It surprised Francis that Alfred's desire to help his former older brother was not sending the American in a raging protest to the White House to demand involvement in the war. It seemed, to the Frenchman, that the younger nation was struggling to gain a form of adult maturity after seeing his country finally heal from one of the worst wars and economic depressions in history.

"You are so young, Amerique," was all that he said. He then turned and left the room, leaving Alfred sitting at the conference table alone with his thoughts.

Several hours, one plane ride, and one meeting with Churchill later, and Arthur found himself wandering around the streets of London. Thoughts were reeling in his mind, taking him away from his reality. He considered the amount of work waiting for him when he returned home, and his feet refused to take him back to his estate in order to procrastinate. He knew that he could not wait much longer though, considering that he would be returning to the war front in a few days. He sighed, and his feet stopped moving him forward.

He looked around at his capital city. A small, sad smile traced his lips as he observed his people. They ran around the streets, hurrying to get their errands finished so that they could return home for the evening. Brothers, fathers, and sweethearts were missing from every family, fighting the enemy overseas, but England's people refused to allow this to bring them down. They continued their lives with their fighting spirits urging them forward, and Arthur couldn't be more proud of them.

Arthur shifted his gaze to the sky and sighed again. Dark clouds decorated the sky, and Arthur allowed another small smile to grace his lips as he gently acknowledged his city's signature weather. He pushed all thoughts of war and politics to the back of his mind as he allowed himself this moment of peace. Tension slowly released itself from his body as his usually straight posture slumped just slightly. The smile stayed on his lips as he closed his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he felt as light as he did in that moment. Years of strain that accompanied being a country's avatar had kept unimaginable stress on his being, and moments like this rarely found their way into his life.

Then, as soon as the moment appeared, it was just as quickly taken away.

Arthur heard the sound of approaching planes. Wondering why the Royal Air Force was flying this close to the London city limit, Arthur turned his attention to the disturbing noise. His blissful expression was immediately replaced with one of shock as he tried to comprehend what was happening. A siren began to wail with warning in the distance.

The German Luftwaffe was slowly advancing on the London sky. Arthur's mouth gaped open for a moment before he snapped back to attention, his expression quickly masking his emotions. Coming to his senses, he jerked his head back to his surroundings on the ground. His people had stopped whatever they had been doing, and stared up at the sky. Some were slowly retreating back into their homes or nearby alleyways, waiting in suspense for whatever was about to unfold.

Then all hell broke loose.

Arthur felt the first bomb drop seconds after he saw the Luftwaffe. A searing pain ripped through his chest and his people's panic immediately filled his head. He soundlessly opened his mouth and stumbled slightly as his hand instinctively clutched at his chest. Civilians ran in a frenzy as they searched for family members, friends, and shelter. Arthur grit his teeth together and took in a sharp breath of air. The pain in his chest was starting to die down when a second bomb hit the ground. Another flash of pain overcame him, and he fell back against the wall of the building behind him.

The people in the streets broke out in screams of terror at the oncoming attack. Children were crying and people scurried around like disturbed insects. Arthur shook his head, trying to recollect himself after the attack on his city. However, as it had the first time, as soon as he began to regain his thoughts, another bomb fell from the sky directly onto his heart. He shut his eyes in order to stop the sudden dizzying feeling that had overcome him. He leaned against the building for support as he began to feel his knees struggle to support him. Pain ripped through his chest, and he felt a warm liquid spreading over the hand that gripped his chest. Braving the nausea that had accompanied his dizzy spell, he opened his eyes slightly to see that blood was spreading across his chest.

His blood.

The Luftwaffe dropped a third bomb, and Arthur blindly fell with it. He was numbly aware of his fall, all of his attention on the pain in his chest. He could feel his blood spreading across his shirt and his wound staining the clothing further. His mind was reeling with panic, and his breath came in rugged gasps. He tried to regain control by focusing on evening out his breathing. This was proven difficult for him as another bomb hit London, and from there the Germans unleashed one bomb after the other.

He could feel the explosions of the bombs in time with the exploding pain in his chest. He had never experienced pain like this before. It was a new kind of agony that came with the new forms of weaponry. He lay on the pavement, ignored in the mass confusion of people around him. He was unable to comprehend what was happening in his surroundings as the pain continued to take over him. His body was shaking and contorting as he collapsed in on himself, causing him to fall victim to a violent coughing fit. The taste of copper filled his mouth as he continued to cough up blood.

Panic continued to dominate his mind as the citizens of London struggled to collect themselves during the unexpected attack. Arthur was unable to contain his panic with his people, and finally allowed his screams to rip themselves from his throat. Blood spattered from his mouth with his screams, and he groaned with pain. His hand never left his chest as his wound began to spread farther across and deeper into his body. He could feel himself lying in a pool of his own blood. He let out another series of screams of agony as he finally slipped into unconsciousness. He greeted it thankfully, allowing the pain to drift away as he welcomed the comforting darkness.

Well, there's the first chapter!