England X Reader: Not Hated

You witnessed the scene from a distance, watching as your proud love fell to his knees. And from across the field that had be tainted with battle and fresh blood, you could hear the shocked, cold words of the victor, "You used to be so great," and a sob from the owner of the green eyes that were clasped shut in pain.

You could at least be grateful that the rain took focus away from water currently falling from your orbs.

An hour later you took Arthur's hand, and dragged a dazed nation back home, while he wondered all the while if the fight he just fought was worth while. He could no longer call himself a sibling. That thought burned more than he would have liked it to.

»

That had been a three months ago. And during those months, England has slowly let the toxic elements of the event drain from him. You helping him whenever he stumbled, but he was strong even when his little brother had just broken ties.

You were England's room, waking up on his bed, blinking up to see a crate being sealed by the ex-pirate, a block of tea being the last thing handed inside. "Was I that... Horrible?", he muttered.

Stop it Arthur. You can't keep thinking like this.

"No, you are not horrible! Alfred just wanted to be an adult! You are the opposite of anything horrible! You raised a little boy when he needed it! The fact that he was strong enough to live by himself is something you should pride yourself in!" The words are fogged by you throat that was still waking up. They hold no sting, but they're sharp enough to pierce a bit of sense in his narrow mind.

He looks to be in the middle of processing the statements when you gently glide the quilt off your shoulders. The Brit doesn't hear your steps as they carry you to him, but he is suddenly over come with warm as you settling in his lap, planting your legs on the sides of him, and your hand comforting the hairs near his neck as your forearms rest on his shoulders.

You spare a smile before you look up at him.

His shoulders aren't hunched over; your grin grows a touch.

He's healing. And you hope your words put a final seal over the damaged corner of his soul.

"Al loves you, Arthur, your his big brother."

They do... The glimmer in grass field that are held behind his eyelid are suddenly filled with sun, the moon falling out and the ball of beautiful fire joining the bright grass you had missed seeing shine.

You shift, seeing if you could nuzzle into him even more, trying to rid him of the final chilling cold. You give him a small peck. "I love you to, you Brit," you look into his green orbs again, so utterly hypnotized and, God, they so much better when they carry no mist in their depths.

His lips slant over your parted one, breathing you in. You arms squeeze him, pulling him closer. It the first time either of you haven't felt weighed down since Alfred left. His tongue probes your mouth quickly, before he has to stop, keeping himself in control, having to say the words he had forgotten to before he tasted you. You best him to it, but in a different form of course, something that held a hidden meaning, something that you had showed one another for so long.

"Nobody hates you, Arthur,"

He gave you a knowledgeable smile and his grip on you tightened.

"I love you, too,"