Hetalia Oneshots!

Cursed to Burn

Characters: Canada

Pairings: N/A

Words: ~2.3K

Genre: Pure Angst

Image Credits: "Landscape view of wildfire near Highway 63 in south Fort McMurray" by someone called DarrenRD posted on Wikipedia.

Warnings: If fire or being Burnt is a sensitive topic, be careful of this story, as it focuses on Canada's extensive history with wildfires and Arson.
(Fun fact about Arson in Canada! Canada has a higher Arson rate the America! Canada has a reported 45 Incidents per 100,000 people, while America only has a reported 31 Incidents per 100,000 people!)

~Let the story begin!~

Canada hadn't ever felt pain like this. Sure, it was well over two-hundred years since France had found him and named him New France, and it had been roughly fifty years since he was placed into England's care, and yes, he'd felt terrible pain he never wished to feel, but with his damned brother, America, and his people, invading his land, trying to make it theirs, claiming that it was 'for the better good', the pain was becoming beyond any he'd known before. America had justified himself in saying that it was what 'everyone wanted' and Canada tried to convince his brother to not invade him, he tried to tell him not to, but of course, America didn't listen. That was one thing his brother wasn't very good at. Listening.

~Quick Skip~

He wasn't sure what exactly was happening, but based on the searing pain he felt in his chest, he figured it was safe to say his heart, otherwise known as his Capital, York, was being burnt. He had taken his shirt off to prevent any damage done to his clothes as his Flesh burnt and he could do nothing about it. He tried splashing himself with water, only for the pain to continue as powerful as before. He attempted placing towels on his chest to maybe try and smother the fire burning him from inside out, but alas, It also did nothing to help the hot pain he was feeling. The scorching Agony and constant Irritation almost made him collapse Initially, but after a few hours of burning, he'd gotten used to the fire burning in him. It was unbearably painful, and he had struggled when he tried and stop the pain, only for his all of methods to fail. He had to stumble to his bed in his small shack just outside of Cornwall before he tried his best to fall asleep, only for the continued burning to keep him awake. He wished he had initially fainted from the pain now because that way he wouldn't have to deal with the strong heat and smell of burning flesh that was now lingering in his home. As he lay on his bed, he tried to slow down his breathing. In... out...in... out... he failed quickly as the pain picked up, presumably as another building or two was lit, and his breaths grew more and more laboured, his eyes began growing heavy and his limbs started to feel distant and limp. He panted heavily as the pain grew hotter and hotter, and he began to lose control of his body as everything began to fade to black and he started to pass out. The pain picked up once again in a sudden burst of flames in his chest and his last thoughts were fixated on revenge as he slipped put of consciousness.

Gods, he was going to get back at America. He would get him good, and He would make him feel the pain he was feeling.

~Short Skip~

It was 1814 now, a year after Canada's capital was burnt, a year after his heart was burnt, and a year after he felt immeasurable, scorching pain course through his chest.

It was finally time to repay America for what he and his people had done to him. He marched alongside Major-General Robert Ross and helped him light the fires in Washington. Of course, the Major-General had given him the honours of setting the Presidential Mansion ablaze, and as he did it, he thought back to the pain he felt as York was Burnt, and it comforted him to a degree to know that America was feeling the same thing right now. He smiled, and tossed the lit torches into the large, wooden building and watched as the fire grew larger, and larger, and the flames engulfed the Mansion. He could hear screams and shouts from both sides of the battle, but the dominant voices were those of his own men, ordering others to set the various buildings ablaze. The crackling of the fires grew louder and Louder as the flames grew brighter and larger. Canada could feel the harsh heat on his face, but he simply grinned at the heat this time, and looked into the flames. Knowing what America was going through, his grin widened.