Spain, 1568

"You're really leaving?"

Netherlands stops his furious packing to glance over his shoulder, but he knows that there could only be one person standing at the door – his sister.

Belgium's wavy blonde hair is restrained by her headband, but wisps and curls still manage to fall into her face. They can't completely eclipse the worried look she's wearing, but she still tries to hide behind them.

"I don't have to take his crap," Netherlands declares belligerently, looking thunderous as he paces through the room, running a hand through his already messy hair. "I don't need that bastard Spain to tell me what to do and what to think. Are you done packing yet?"

Belgium regards her older brother hesitantly as he continues to storm about his room, haphazardly throwing clothes into the open suitcase on the bed. Netherlands isn't known for his even temper, but she sees now that he isn't acting impetuously. He really means to leave Spain.

"Well?" Netherlands demands impatiently, turning back to face her. "Are you done packing or what?"

There is a pause.

"I – I'm not coming with you."

"What?"

She bites her lip, as if she wants to stop the words from bursting out. "Don't go," she implores finally, her green eyes filled with pain. "He'll kill you. Please."

He stares back at her in disbelief. "You're not coming?" he repeats incredulously. "Are you afraid of what Spain'll do to us? I'll protect you! Do you think I can't?"

"I think you'll try, and that's why I'm scared," Belgium replies, trying to get him to see reason. He is her pig-headed big brother and he's never been one to stop and see reason, but she has to try. "He's not just going to let us walk away, Netherlands. Do you want to start a war over this?"

"I can't live with him anymore!" he retorts vehemently, slamming his suitcase shut. "Where does Spain get off telling me I have to pay taxes? Why should I? I can take care of myself! And I can take care of you," he adds brusquely, anger edging his voice.

Belgium shakes her head, holding her breath. "If I stay, he'll go easier on you," she says.

He swears under his breath.

"So you're the sacrificial lamb, is that it?" he asks brusquely, his amber eyes like thunder as he regards her. "Do you really think I'm going to leave you here with Spain?"

"If I go with you it'll only make things worse!" she exclaims, begging him to see reason. "Maybe I can talk some sense into Spain, if I not you…"

He shakes his head bitterly, reaching for his pipe and jamming it into his mouth. "Fine," he says roughly. "Stay here with Spain if you want to – I don't care. I'm out."

His words are clipped and cold, as if he really doesn't care, and it scares her. She watches as her brother – now a stranger – lights his pipe, puffing carelessly before stowing the matches back into his pocket. Wordlessly, he brushes past her as he heads for the door, his suitcase slung over his shoulder.

"W-wait!" she exclaims, reaching out to him. He pauses momentarily, and she reaches for the blue and white striped scarf that dangles from the coat rack by the door. "Your scarf," she says, in a sisterly manner as she pulls it around him. "It's cold outside."

She tries to hide the tremble in her voice as she ties it snugly around his neck. She had made the scarf for him years ago, and he had worn it with brotherly dedication. And now it would be the only thing he had to remind him of her.

"You sure you're not coming?" he asks doubtfully.

She shakes her head.

So she watches as her brother walks out the door and never comes back.

Battle of Nieuwpoort, Belgium, 1600

Chaos.

They say war is hell, but Netherlands knows better. War is chaos, where strategies that look so clear and rational on paper come to life as a raging, chaotic conglomeration of smoke and fire and gunshots that don't ever seem to end.

But now they have ended.

The silence is eerie, and Netherlands staggers unsteadily to his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth. Around him, he hears the tramping of the soldiers' boots as they check their fallen comrades. He is victorious, he realizes in disbelief. Spain has been defeated, and he forces himself to believe that this battle has won something.

But that is yet to be seen.

30 years, he thinks tiredly, 30 years he has been fighting this war against Spain and the end is nowhere in sight. Well fuck that, Netherlands tells himself doggedly, fishing into his pocket and fumbling for his pipe and lighter. He'll fight for another 30 years if he has to, and then another, if that means he'll get his independence.

But his sister. He misses her to death and sometimes he hates himself for leaving her behind, but what could he have done? He feels like a crap big brother, feels like he failed her by leaving her with Spain, unable to make sure the bastard was treating her right. His skin crawls at the thought of Spain and Belgium together, and he bites down angrily on his pipe.

"Netherlands!"

He thinks at first he is imagining the voice, as he is supposed to be invisible to the soldiers around him. Baffled, he looks around the battlefield, but he only sees destruction. Then, flitting like a ghost between the soldiers, he thinks he sees the figure of a young girl with wavy blonde hair running, but he blinks and she is gone.

It cannot be Belgium, he tells himself firmly. She cannot be here, because if she were here, that means Spain had forced her to fight, against her own brother…

She wouldn't, Netherlands thinks.

But he knows that people change.

Congress of Vienna, Austria, 1814

It has been so long.

Belgium looks wordlessly at her brother, studying his face as if trying to remember what he looked like before the war. His amber eyes are as tempestuous as ever, and his strong jaw is set into a scowl that seems permanently etched onto his features. He seems unkempt and a little worse for the wear, and it is clear from the shadows under his eyes that the long war has taken its toll on him.

80 years – it takes 80 years for Netherlands to break away from Spain, and now she can see him again. She studies him from across the room, where he stands silently next to his delegates, invisible to their eyes.

Then he looks at her.

She holds her breath anxiously, because she knows that she has betrayed him terribly by fighting on Spain's side instead of his, and by refusing to leave with him in the first place. But before she can worry any more, Netherlands saunters up to her, moving with his familiar swagger and pride.

"Hey little sister," he says casually, winking. "Miss me?"

She feels like crying with relief, as she flings her arms around his waist. "Just a little," she chokes out, squeezing hard.

He laughs, a glorious laugh that she hasn't heard since they were little. "80 fucking years, but I finally did it – that Spanish bastard can't boss me around anymore. So pack up your bags, sis – you're moving in with me!"

She stares at him, uncomprehending at first. "Me? Move in with you?" she replies finally, incredulously.

"Well, I have my own place now!" Netherlands says cheerfully. "Besides, 80 years is a hella long time to spend away from my baby sister, and it'd be better for both of us this way; we'd be a stronger nation; no one would dare fuck with us!"

"But I –" She feels as if things are moving too fast, as if she is caught up in the whirlwind that is her brother, and she doesn't know what to do; she can only stare at him in disbelief.

Netherlands is looking at her with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes, and she knows that she has her brother back. She doesn't want to lose him again, not just after finding him.

"Okay," she says finally, laughing. "Okay, I will."

He lets out a whoop of excitement, grinning at her with unabashed enthusiasm. "Just wait, sis – it's gonna be fuckin' epic!"

For a while, it is.

But it is not to last.

Belgium, 1839

"From this moment forward you are no longer a part of the United Kingdom of Netherlands."

Netherlands pauses in reading the document, skimming over the text until the words blur in front of his eyes. He feels hollow as he looks across the table to where Belgium sits, and he tosses the document down onto the table. "Sign on the dotted line," he says sarcastically.

Belgium looks wordlessly at her brother, her stomach clenched into knots. "I'm sorry," she says helplessly. She knows that sometimes two puzzle pieces can't fit together, no matter how hard she tries – and she had been desperate enough to try.

He ignores this.

"You can have this back," she hears him say, as he begins unwinding the blue and white knit scarf from around his neck.

"Keep it," she begins, but he has already pushed it across the table at her, refusing to meet her eyes.

Belgium knows she is losing her brother again.

She gathers the scarf into her arms. "Good-bye Netherlands," she says softly.

He gives her a wan smile.

"It was nice while it lasted, sis."

She has no doubt that he will wear the scarf again. They have been through too much together to ever lose each other completely. So for now, she keeps the blue and white scarf tucked away in the back of her closet, where it waits patiently to be worn again.

One day.

Fin.

[History]

The Eighty Years' War/Dutch War of Independence (1568-1648)

King Phillip II of Spain made two mistakes with the Dutch: he imposed taxes on them, although they were already self-sufficient due to rapid industrialization (thanks to the windmill) and new trade routes; he also tried to convert the Dutch Protestants into Catholics. These two factors led to war.

The Battle of Nieuwpoort was a Dutch victory, and although they drove off the Spanish, the battle accomplished nothing. The Dutch were unable to capture Dunkirk and eventually had to withdraw as well.

The Congress of Vienna in 1815 established (among other things) the United Kingdom of the Netherlands, which was the United Provinces in the north (Netherlands) + the southern provinces (who eventually seceded to form Belgium.) The reason for this is because these people were Catholic, while the Dutch were Protestant. It was doomed from the start OTL"

P.S: Congress of Vienna was also where the Holy Roman Empire was officially dissolved.

[/History]

In real life, the Netherlands and Belgium are "great allies" with lots of "close cooperation between governments." So looks like Netherlands did go back to wearing that scarf, eh?

I tried a new style + present tense, not sure if I like all the skipping around ._. Would be appreciated if you let me know what you think.

LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE IS LONG! /RAGE.

If you would like to hear something beautiful that I really dedicate this fic too, listen to the piano composition "The Crisis". You can truly hear the fragility of the human soul in all its broken imperfection. The shattered dissonance only adds to the overwhelming beauty of this piece, which truly is capable of moving the soul.

Thanks for reading! OTL"