Hetalia - FrUK - War Wounds
Arthur fell to his knees out of breath. He looked up at the Frenchmen that stood above him, a dull silver gun pointed to his head, raindrops plinking on the cold metal and stinging his eyes. He couldn't help but smile weakly. "After all these years..I thought that you would be the one on his knees begging for mercy, Francis..." England tried to reach for his gun but stopped - what was the point? 'I'm going to die anyway...' the thought as an old memory began to play in the back of his mind.
It was a warm spring day and Francis was about to give up on Arthur - he was a hopeless case."If you want to be a strong country Arthur, you will have to understand this." he muttered, his hand covering his face in fustration. Arthur rubbed his tearfilled eyes and glared at the young French boy infront of him, "I could never kill someone, Frog!" France let out a long sigh and ruffled England's already messy hair, "One day you might even have to kill someone you love," he looked away, "Maybe even me.