England - Hetalia

Canton. 1839.

Before everything went wrong.

---

Arthur's hand struck through the silence, followed by a gutteral laugh from the man. Not forced thanks to politeness, a rare, uncontrolled laugh from the gentleman. "They really keep pestering your men about the trades? Ha! Well," His chin comes to rest on his gloved hand, a wide smile breaking out on his face. His eyes never left Yao, not even for a second as he spoke. "Why not just accept their offers, then, Yao?"

Usually when Arthur joked around with someone, it was made to be mocking. Sometimes even cruel. That was never the case with Yao, though.

And the moment the other man's mouth started to move, an even wider smile spread across Arthur's face.

"Ha. As if I'd give into your shitty demands."

Yao's snap back urged Arthur to laughing once again, but this time he held back. Instead, the Brit carefully leaned over, grabbing the ceramic handle of the teapot, pouring the steaming liquid back into the cup across from him. He didn't even ask if Yao wanted his refilled yet. of course he knew the perfect moment to stop, as well. Watching the other man over the course of some time can very well educate you on their habits. Especially when it came to Arthur with Yao, even if he'd never admit it.

Truthfully, Arthur felt of the man as... A breath of fresh air. He could joke about politics, he could trash talk France and America, he could feel... Human for once.

Arthur wasn't even starting to view the other man as an ally anymore.

But as a friend.

"... Hey, Yao,"

Arthur's eyes suddenly locked onto his, almost... Warmth in his gaze.

"... How would you feel if the British empire used something else instead of silver for trade?"

---

Nanjing. 1842.

A Humiliation Treaty.

"... China, you can't just sit there."

Despite the Brits cold words, your hand shook. The same pen you'd used to write this man letters every goddamn day, now sat in your trembling hand as you stared at the page with a foggy gaze.

"You lost, China, you have to sign i—'

Arthur's words were cut off before he could even get the last sound in.

"You used to call me 'Yao'."

His mouth snapped shut. Arthur couldn't help but advert his gaze. Whether from shame or because he had no response unclear.

"... Well this isn't about Arthur and Yao right now."

His voice was cold. Hollow.

Nothing like the man you've known for centuries.

"This is about Britain and China. Now sign the treaty."

You stared for a beat. Arthur—no, Britain, saying something horrible. Something sick. Something so... Dehumanising.

In this moment, Arthur Kirkland was nowhere to be seen. This was a shell, a husk, a mimic of the man you grew to love. This was Great Britain. And Great Britain was winning over China.

"You're going to take Hong Kong, too?"

Britain paused, snapping his head back towards you. A gloved finger shot to the table, pressing down on the line where it clearly states.

"It says so here, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but—!"

"Then I'm taking him."

"..."

You stared. You stared and you couldn't look away.

By the fact that Britain couldn't meet your gaze? He knew every little bit of what he was doing would hurt you. It would hurt your people.

Maybe Arthur cared a little. But Britain sure as hell didn't.

Your gaze fogged, eyes even going a little glassy. He knew what he was doing! He knew that these disgusting flowers were going to kill your people! He knew it was unfair! Was this really your Arthur?

Did any of It mean a thing to him!?

An unwilling tear slipped out, and Britain's breath hitched when he saw it.

"I can't separate you from your country anymore."

Despite the trembling in your hands, your voice remained steady, and teary eyes locked onto Britain.

"..."

Arthur stilled. That goddamn look in your eyes, the one that flamed when China met any kind of struggle, the one that meant he sure as hell wasn't going to let this go! A sigh escaped Britain's lips, his hand flying to pinch the bridge of his nose. He couldn't help but be frustrated! A twisted sort of guilt bloomed in Britain's chest, one that squeezed his heart worse than if it was actually being squeezed.

"Damnit. Yao... Why can't you just see things from my perspective?"

Britain took a deep inhale and rose from where he sat. Heels clicked against the floor as Arthur walked around to the other side of the table, now sitting right beside china. You instinctively went to move away, but Arthurs hand suddenly closed around yours.

"China."

Your gaze ticked over to him, he was finally sitting so close again. You could see every outline on his face, the darker under eyes and the bushy eyebrows he was cursed with... Every feature you saw reminded you of how he looked when he used to smile at you. A bright, warm smile that had nothing to do with countries or politics, but because he enjoyed your company. Now his eyes... Were hollow. Britain's gaze was calculating, the same look the colonizer gave to people he knew he had control over.

"... I know you don't want to sign, believe me mate, I know—"

Britain clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, thumb gently brushing your knuckles. It was almost... Patronising how suddenly gentle he was being.

After seeing you lose so miserably to him, did he really think you... You were weak enough to want comfort from someone you so despised in this moment?

"But, China."

Once more, green pools locked onto you. You stared back, maybe looking if you could read his mind through them. To see why he would do this. To see why he would do something so... So awful and horrible to your people. Not just as Arthur, but as a country, too. However, his eyes have none of his intent away. They stayed locked on yours as his hand slowly moved across the edge of the table to where your pipe sat, carefully picking it up between two fingers, pressing the end softly between your lips.

"... You're gonna have to anyways."