"Alfred… you haven't touched your roast." Arthur said, taking a bite from his fork. He looked at Alfred who was sitting at the other end of the table, staring blankly at the food before him.

"I'm not hungry." Alfred said. He tried to keep a straight face as he met the other's gaze, but his stomach grumbled and his lip quivered when he uttered the words. It smelled really good. Potatoes, lots of soft stewed beef, and boiled carrots were arranged all over the plate. It wasn't the cook who made it either, this was Arthur's own cooking. He even put more beef on it just like Alfred liked it. He felt his throat get tight. He felt his face move on it's own, his lips frowning.

"Not hungry? But I made your favorite." Arthur watched Alfred protest in silence, using all his strength to not eat, trying to look serious. But behind those blue forget-me-nots there were tears, there were cries, there were scars. Arthur looked down at his own food and realized he'd lost his appetite as well, he couldn't taste the food that sat on his tongue, and the ale passed down like water. Alfred would never let this go.

"I know… and I'm grateful" Alfred's hands tightened into fists on his knees, "but… it's not the same." And this time he stared at Arthur with anger.

Arthur felt a headache coming to his temples. Alfred wasn't always perceptive except when you least wanted him to be.

"Alfred, eat."

"Do you have to go? Is it really that important?"

"Yes, Alfred. Otherwise I wouldn't be going." Arthur said, finishing his plate.

Alfred bit his lip. "Then why can't I come with you?"

"Alfred, we're not going to argue about this. It's too dangerous for you." The maid came by and took away Arthur's plate.

Alfred began to pout. "How is it dangerous? I can handle anything, I'm the hero! And you know how strong I am. No one can beat me."

"Alfred-"

" I want to go where you go, You promised I'd get to go with you on that boat. I want to see England and all these places you keep teaching me about. I promise I won't get in the way-"

"Alfred! That's enough! We've already discussed this, I'm going and you're staying, and that is FINAL!"

But Alfred couldn't stop even if he wanted to, the words and ideas slipped out of this mind. "NO! You promised!" Alfred gripped his fists tighter, trying not to lose his grip on his strength that easily got the better of him. "Do you know how hard it is… that you're gone forever and when you come back you're so tired you don't want to do anything with me…. If you wanted to be my big brother, t-then start acting like IT! If you're not going to then don't COME BACK!" By the time he finished, Alfred immediately regretted it. From the far end of the table Alfred couldn't tell if Arthur was crying, or if he was angry, his hair covering his eyes. But eventually he looked up, with a smile, but that smile was not a happy smile, and those kind emerald eyes, were cold and sharp.

"I'm sorry, I never took into account how you felt about this Alfred. And you have every right to be angry with me, but you know why I can't stay. You should know better. And whether you like it or not I'm still in charge of you. But you can hate me forever if you like. And if that's the case, don't bother waking up tomorrow morning."

Alfred felt as if he'd been speared by a sharp arrow. He watched Arthur get up and leave without even saying goodnight.

The food lay before him and his stomach growled ferociously twisting his bowels. Alfred picked up the fork nervously, his face red and hot, and began to eat. He froze. The food was icy cold, and hard to swallow, that as it passed down it turned his entire body cold from within. It was the hardest meal he ever ate, and in the end it wasn't enough to fill the new hole in his stomach.

Alfred went upstairs and immediately headed to Arthur's room. Underneath the door frame, there was a thin streak of yellow light, but when Alfred tried to open the door, it was locked. He knew Arthur heard the knob twisting. But the door never opened.

Alfred tried to apologize, a well thought out idea in this head, but the words never came to his mouth. After that fight Alfred doubted there would be anything he could say that would make Arthur open the door.

Tonight there would've been one more bedtime story, one more tuck in, one more goodnight kiss. There would've been. The storybook was still waiting by the nightstand. Alfred glanced at the book, but it would never quite be the same story, because he had to ruin all the precious moments, the precious hours, the attempts Arthur went to great lengths to ease his sudden, unexpected leave. Sometimes Alfred did appreciate them but, he didn't feel too guilty telling Arthur that he didn't like it, he was upset that these moments were all robbed of their true joy, all of them done mainly to ease Alfred into a cold hard reality.

He crawled under the colorful spread, the fluffy blanket full of colored squares and intricate patterns of colored floss. Alfred passed his fingers through the embroidered sky, the stars, the sea, all magically taken and sewn, preserved on a blanket, by the skilled hands of someone loving. Alfred rolled up and curled under it, into the farthest corner of the bed. Two toy soldiers patrolled on the night desk, keeping a watchful eye under the bed and the closet. They were magical, Arthur said, for he ordered them to keep Alfred safe while he slept. But even with that security, Alfred couldn't sleep.

He wished for things that didn't happen, wished to be human, to be free from the burdens of nations, wished for many things. But Alfred knew wishing would not make Arthur stay. And maybe this time, it wouldn't bring him back.

Alfred woke up, startled by his body jolting and landing on the bed, falling awake from a horrible dream. He gripped the bed underneath, his nails digging into sheets, as he tried to catch his breath, his heart up to his ears. He swore he would've died from such a fall, but as Alfred lay there he began to forget exactly what happened, the dream fading away.

Brushing leaves danced in the whistling wind catching his attention. Alfred got up from his sweaty sticky bed, rubbing his eyes. The cool breeze swept in from the window and into the room, leaving Alfred even colder, freezing his sweaty nightgown which he removed from his body, leaving him only in his trousers. Lightning flashed outside. Alfred could make out the tree swaying in a harsh wind and got up to close the window. The sky was an ugly cobalt black, purple and gray clouds swirling, moving fast with the wind.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Alfred looked to the hallway outside, wondering... longing... doubting. He didn't know what time it was, but he felt he'd only slept for a few hours. He had to wake up early tomorrow. Arthur would be leaving again and Alfred wouldn't dare sleep in, even if Arthur didn't want him, he'd still wish him goodbye. That's when Alfred realized perhaps that falling feeling, was the swelling hole in his gut, the thought of Arthur disappearing beyond the horizon and never coming back…. He got up and walked through the halls and though blind, he knew the cracks of each wooden board, the portraits, and where the table in the hall was. Carefully tiptoeing on the floorboards he reached the two double doors. There was a small crack in them as lightning flashed in silence.

Gently Alfred pushed the door open and let himself in to the master bedroom. He couldn't hear Arthur snoring, but the air was thick, humid, and silent. He took one careful step... then another.

"Couldn't sleep could you?"

Alfred immediately wanted to hide. He decided not to say anything. Maybe Arthur would think he wasn't there.

Arthur turned his head, to glance at Alfred. His eyes were tired and worn out. It looked like he hadn't slept either.

"Yeah." Alfred replied in a soft voice.

"Thought you didn't want to see me."

"Only if you're leaving…." Alfred dared to take a few more steps. A low rumble of thunder clammered outside the open window.

"When dawn arrives."

Alfred swallowed. "And what if… I changed my mind?" He finally reached the end of the bed.

"Is that an apology?" Arthur said softly, sitting up and looking at Alfred.

Alfred nodded his head slowly. "I'm sorry bout what I said. I didn't mean it, I do want you to come back." Alfred felt something well up in his throat, his voice getting higher, "You're not terrible… I just miss you. I barely get to see you…" tears budded on the corners of his eyes "and I don't want you to disappear forever… please come back!"

Arthur watched Alfred slowly break out to a soft cry, and whatever reply he had, it was lost in those tears.
"Come here." He pat beside him and Alfred hopped on the bed. Instantly. Alfred didn't expect that or for that matter that Arthur grab him into a hug.

'You know once you say something like that it's hard to forget, Alfred."

"I'm SORRY! I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it-" Alfred shook his head, his hands gripping Arthur tightly, crying on his shoulder.

"Shhh it's quite alright Alfred… I'm glad you didn't mean it." Arthur held Alfred in a strong embrace, closing his eyes.

When Alfred had calmed down Arthur tried to wrench him off so they could talk.

"So you forgive me?"

"Yes Alfred I'll forgive you on the condition you promise, you'll never say things you don't mean. Alright?"

Alfred nodded. "I promise."

"Good… can you forgive me for not keeping my promises?" He looked at Alfred pleading, for he knew that wasn't something easy to forgive.

Alfred took his time thinking carefully. "If you promise you'll do them with me the moment you come back."

"Sounds like a fair deal." Arthur said. He smiled and let out a small sigh of relief. "Well then, I should get you back to bed."

"Wait!"
Arthur stopped just at the door way.
"Can I sleep here tonight?"

"Alfred…" Arthur began, but his voice died down to a murmur. "I think you're a little too old for that…"

"Please. I need it. It's stormy outside, and I don't like storms." Alfred said quickly.

Arthur chuckled, because he knew that was a lie. Alfred had outgrown storms. "Alright, you can sleep here tonight, one last time." Arthur watched Alfred immediately dig himself a spot under the covers, waiting eagerly as he pat an empty spot beside him. He walked over and joined Alfred tucking him in.

Alfred got closed and nudged himself a spot near Arthur's chest.

"Can you please tell me a story?"

"I'm afraid it'll have to be a short one."

"I don't care, it helps me sleep."

So Arthur told Alfred a quick story, gently rubbing Alfred's back until both of them had fallen asleep.

The storm rolled through and rumbled outside. Alfred woke up with an unsettling ease and looked out the window. The sky was still dark and grey, but Alfred could make out more shapes in the room. His heart began to drop. He hoped for a hurricane to destroy the harbor, he hoped for some sailor to set alight all the gunpowder barrels and Arthur's ship, though Alfred knew Arthur loved it, blown to splinters for taking his care taker from him. But that's only delay, it wouldn't stop the dawn from rising, wouldn't stop Arthur from taking another ship.

Alfred glanced at Arthur who was snoring quietly as he lay on his back, his blond hair messier than ever from tossing and turning. His heart began to skip beats. Alfred wedged himself in Arthur's arms and held him close.

Arthur groaned, but naturally put his arms around Alfred and wrapped his legs around him.

Alfred stood still until Arthur was settled. They were very close to the point to touching noses. He could feel his warm breath and smell Arthur's scent buried in his hair. He wrapped himself around Arthur, glad he was awake to enjoy this moment. He started to feel upset again, but Alfred glanced at Arthur and gave him a kiss on the cheek. It made it those upsetting thought go away, so Alfred did it again.

Then Alfred began to wonder, just wonder. He'd seen people do it before, in many places. Sometimes it was a greeting in many places, it was a sign of love. And Alfred did love Arthur, a lot.

Alfred bit his lip and decided to close his eyes. His hand placed on Arthur's cheek, he pulled himself a little bit close and just barely grazed their warm lips together. Alfred felt a surge of sudden calm, sudden joy, and warmth, his stomach fluttering in freedom, but it happened so quickly that it scared him and he pulled away.

Alfred debated in his mind whether it was right or wrong, but reasoned it was right… because it felt right, and he wanted to. But overtime he gently fell back to sleep, lost in thought, and in a comfortable warmth.

Arthur, however, instantly opened his eyes and sat up. He looked around, as if someone had broken into the house, but Arthur heard nothing. He glanced at the window, dawn breaking through the light grey storm clouds. He then turned to Alfred who was dead asleep.

Arthur rubbed his eyes, and then he passed a finger that outlined his lips and furrowed his brows. He was having that dream again, and that was something part of him couldn't accept. It was dirty, it was wrong, it was forbidden. But this time it felt so real. It always did. And it didn't help that it was showing either. He cursed himself for not putting Alfred in his room, and hated when Alfred unconsciously put him between a rock and a hard place.

The birds sang outside, the air smelled of dew and rain. Arthur rocked Alfred gently with his hands to wake him up.

"Hmm?" Alfred strained to open his eyes.

"Alfred, it's time to go."

Alfred lowered his head in defeat, but stole as many hugs and held Arthur's hand tightly, never letting it go, until they reached the harbor, until Arthur pulled it away and left him a parting gift, his handkerchief.

"Will you keep it for me till I get back?"

Alfred nodded, folding it carefully and placing it in his pocket.

"I'll let you know where I am so you can write to me."

"I'll write pages, you know."

Arthur tousled Alfred's hair. "It'll be the greatest book I'll ever read."

Alfred felt that hand leave his hair and watch those familiar boots march up on deck. He dared to run onboard, dared to stow away to Europe. He watched the white sails snap to life from the breath of the fair wind, watched the ship slowly float gracefully over the blue ocean, under white blanketed skies, and sail far out into the see 'til it merged with the horizon.

Alfred felt himself part of him leave him, felt more empty inside. So he gripped that handkerchief and pressed it to his lips, and then felt as if Arthur was always right there, on the corners of his lips.