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The Scent of a Rose	By : larien04 Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 2849 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and I make no money off of this fic!

Chapter List
- 6
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The bombs came that night, as usual, and Arthur was feeling restless; he wanted to be out there helping. So maybe he had no idea how to fly fighter jets but he was good at hand to hand combat; he used to have to fight all his battles that way before the invention of guns.

“What happened to good old fashioned sword duels?” he muttered to nobody in particular “Let Hitler come over here with a rapier and we’ll see what happens. ”

It may have been a tad inappropriate to chuckle at the image of Hitler wielding a rapier while London was in a state of emergency but what else was the nation supposed to do while he was practically held prisoner in the palace raid shelter?

They had finally gave him a radio to listen to the reports instead of having to deal directly with frantic soldiers who risked their lives just to tell him that another business was on fire and that the death toll was on the rise. There seemed to be an unusually high amount of reports that the fires tonight were spreading at an alarming pace. The Germans were using the incendiaries and high explosives tonight; pulling out all the stops trying one last time to destroy British morale and it wasn’t going to work, damnit; not as long as Arthur was in command.

It was then that the report came that Saint Paul’s Cathedral was on fire and Arthur felt sick to his stomach. St. Paul’s was one of the most beautiful sites in London and it was impossible to visit the city without stopping at the Cathedral. Arthur had never been a particularly religious man, he didn’t go for weekly church services or anything but he would often, as often as time permitted lately, go to the church and marvel at its beauty. St Paul’s was more than just a church it had not fallen yet and it seemed to be a beacon of hope in these times and Arthur couldn’t stand it if another beauty of London was destroyed in one night.

Arthur was not the only man in London with these thoughts because not moments later the report came that there was a group of firefighters who were braving the raid to stand around the cathedral and put out the flames as soon as they started. There were even reports that there were volunteers, regular citizens who had no business being out in the center of a city while it was on fire, who were coming out to help.

Arthur stood up and marched directly out of the raid shelter, shoving the guard aside and telling another to ‘sod off’ and headed straight for cathedral; he felt strongly about this and he was going to help, damnit, even if it got him killed.

“Sir! Forgive me, sir but where the bloody hell do you think you’re off to in the middle of the firestorm?” a high ranking soldier screamed, catching hold of his arm.

Arthur roughly shrugged the man off him, “I’m going to St Paul’s and if you even so much as think of trying to stop me I’ll make sure that you’re back to basic training so fast—“

The commander saluted Arthur “Sir, please, it would be a great honor if you allowed me to escort you in a military vehicle. You’ll never make it there alive from the palace to the cathedral on foot. ”

Arthur nodded curtly and got in the vehicle finally feeling a thrill of excitement at being able to contribute to the safety of his city.

He saw his city ablaze as he rode towards the cathedral but it wasn’t until he got to St Paul’s, the highest point in the city, and looked down at the rest of London that made him think back to September of 1666. Suddenly he felt a wave of guilt pour over him as he remembered his words from back then: “London will never burn again while I live. ”

The citizens he made that promises to were long gone now, but he still feel like he had let his city down…

The commander that drove Arthur shook his hand “Sir, thank you” and there was a glint of moisture in the man’s eye.

“What for?” Arthur returned; what could anyone possibly be thanking him for?

“For giving us hope” was all the man said and then drove off back to his station.

Shaking himself out of his daze, Arthur ran over to three citizens who were struggling to lift the heavy fire hose and helped them burden the weight.

“Thanks” the men murmured and wasted no time in shouting an all clear for the water pressure to be released. Arthur couldn’t believe the dedication of the Londoners as they surrounded the Cathedral, the entire city was ablaze but the Cathedral would stand that night.

The British nation didn’t take control, like he normally would in a military situation; he didn’t want any credit for this; he let the citizens shout the orders that night and he followed them. Perhaps he didn’t do such a bad job establishing his country after all.

There wasn’t much talking that night, it didn’t seem right to strike up a conversation in a time like this, the silent resolve of the firefighters and the civilians was louder than any bomb being dropped that night.

Morning came, as it always did, and it wasn’t till the morning lights hit their faces that several of the men recognized Arthur and were shocked beyond belief. Important people were supposed to be locked safely in the palace, not out here like everyone else fending for themselves.

Arthur brushed off their concern telling him “This is my city too. ”

The British Nation talked to every man that was there that night making sure to take down their information, explaining to them that as soon as possible they would all receive recognition from the Crown for outstanding service in a time of war. He was shocked to find that none of the men wanted the recognition and that the fact that the Cathedral stood while the rest of London burned was enough recognition for them.

It wasn’t long before the Military Police came looking for him, telling him he needed to come back to the palace and that he was needed there to sign more papers and to help with their next strategy. It was like he was a runaway child being admonished; he was well aware they didn’t care about him personally; they just needed someone to play their war games.

He took to his room later that day and skimmed over another copy of a newspaper published by the French Resistance.

“Why do you read that?” a soldier asked him, dropping off some more forms for him to fill out.

“I just want to know that he’s ok” was Arthur's unthinking and automatic response.

“’He’ sir?” the soldier queried

Arthur blinked “What? I meant to say ‘they’; I hope they are ok. ”

Shrugging, the soldier left, tending to his other daily duties as Arthur sat there furrowing his brows in confusion wondering why he was suddenly so concerned about the Frenchman.

******

A/N: Next chapter: The Liberation of Paris and our lovers are reunited once more.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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The Scent of a Rose