AN: Well... This was completely random. I was trying to come up with ideas for The Price of Freedom and this popped into my brain. Wrote it down, or typed it, and... here you go.

I apologize for whatever emotions this may cause ahead of time.

A brief explanation from Alfred F. Jones.

A lot of people, or nations rather, wonder why I chose Arthur. Francis is one in particular, though he's buried the hatchet because he got my brother.

What a lot of them don't realize is that… From day one, from the first time I met him, I saw his true self. I saw him fight and argue with the others, though it became only himself and Francis soon enough. I saw him yell and scream, even curse, with an almost… wonder because I couldn't comprehend why they were fighting or why he was arguing so much for me. I was scared too, of course. They were big, unknown countries. But when they offered me things, and when I seemed interested in going with Francis, something changed. I didn't realize it then, but he'd given up. He'd… in a way, I think, he'd dropped the act.

…I saw how he cried because he thought he was going to lose me. Though he could have just been upset about losing the wealth my land offered or me choosing his rival, I thought nothing of it. I was a child and all that I cared about was that there was someone hurting in front of me. I wanted to help and I suppose that's been my nature ever since… But I went up to him and I asked if he was okay.

I remember being shocked when a look of surprise had crossed his face. I wondered if anyone had ever asked him that before. But then he smiled and took me in his arms, and I remember being happy because he was happy. That seemed like it was all that mattered.

The last time I saw him was decidedly different… I had rebelled. I had fought back.

I hadn't… didn't… want to hurt him. I almost wasn't sure it would affect him, really. He had been gone so much... I wondered if maybe he had forgotten, or maybe just didn't care about me as much. I didn't understand that he had other colonies that were probably waiting just like I was.

But on the battlefield… I saw him again. I wanted him to let me go, I told him that. I wanted him to for a lot of reasons, but really because I didn't want to fight him, not right there in front of me…When I couldn't see him I could pretend like I wasn't fighting him; that it was just someone else. But I knew that it was him and that he wouldn't.

And then he pointed the gun at me… Heh, that scared me. I can tell you that for a moment I truly thought he was going to shoot me, if only to take me back to the house and take care of the wound. I thought about how he had looked back then… He had been angry at first, but then…

Then he put the gun down. He threw it aside. I felt relief, but at the same time… I almost knew what was coming, in some distant memory. He called me an idiot… And maybe I was. Or am. I felt horrible.

He fell to his knees and the second I saw him, however different it was with the mud and the rain staining him, I was a child again. He was crying and…

All I wanted to do was to kneel down and make him feel better. I wanted to laugh, like this was all some bad joke and say, "Let's go home." I wanted to see him smile again…

But I knew. I knew that I had changed everything. I knew that I had hurt the one who had opened, or showed me, who he really was from that first moment. And that now he was showing it to me again.

And then the words came. I almost wasn't sure what I was saying… I was just… lost. I still don't understand how at the same time I was finding myself… But for some reason… I talked about how he had been in that time, when I was young, and when he… I think I broke him honestly… When he kept calling me an idiot, over and over… I knew he had given up.

But I had to let my troops continue to point their weapons. Now that I think about it… I could have told them to back off; that he was done. But… that seemed almost crueler.

I had to keep them pointed so… so he would know that he hadn't lost completely. That he would never really lose me. That he could, was, still fighting for me.

In that moment I wanted to return more than I ever had when he had been ordering me to…

I wasn't going to let him go, even if our relations were… Hell, he was…

I remember looking back at him, staring at him…and I wondered… How could he ever forgive me for this?

After I had seen him and chosen him and brought that thing he never let people see out if it's shell… and then shattered it into pieces.