It was supposed to be a ritual of love.
It was supposed to make America love him, want him- because damn he really needed it.
What went wrong?
Arthur took a deep breath before stepping into the dark room, hand tightening on his spell book and reagents. He knew this was wrong-he knew it was wrong to force someone to love him. Forbidden, some said. Disgusting, said others. But he no longer cared. All he knew was that he needed this, badly. Maybe then the nightmares would stop…
He took another deep breath before stepping on the glowing, purple rune inscribed on the stone floor. He opened up the spell book, recited the appropriate incantation, and went to open up his jar of reagents. He froze- something was missing. He had forgotten the phoenix feather! Cursing, he knew there was no way to go back and get it. He only had so long to use the reagents or the spell would wear off and backfire. He could only toss in what he had and hope nothing bad happened.
Arthur took the jar and threw its contents into the nearby bubbling caldron, stirring a few times before pouring the now thick mixture onto the rune. Purple smoked billowed from the rune, enveloping the small area. Coughing, Arthur thought he heard a dark chuckle as he quickly exited the room…
He had another nightmare that night. But this one was slightly different.
Arthur's heart sank when he recognized the surroundings of his dream- he was back in the 1700s, and Alfred had just won the Revolutionary War. Alfred was taunting him, laughing at him like he usually did. Then he turned and started walking away, like usual. But then… He stopped. And turned.
And Arthur let out a silent shriek when he saw Alfred's face.
He woke up with a start, sitting up and panting, sweat dripping off his brow. It was just a dream, it was just a dream… He told himself over and over again. It was just a nightmare. He got up, firmly repeating these words to himself. Feeling slightly better, he headed to the bathroom for his morning routine.
XXX
The nightmares never stopped. They just kept coming, and they were getting worse by the day. He was starting to feel sick, too. He always felt cold, and he seemed to have a slight fever. It's okay… Just a cold. I'll go buy some medicine and be better in no time.
XXX
The medicine hadn't helped. If anything, he'd gotten worse. And now there were voices in his head. Dark, indecipherable mutterings buried in the back of his mind. Great. On top of it all, I'm going insane. But seeing as they didn't seem anything more than a nuisance, Arthur ignored it.
XXX
The voices had gotten louder. He still couldn't make out what they were saying, but now he could confirm that there was more than one and that they were anything but human. He shivered violently all the time now, there seemed to be no escape from the bone-chilling cold.
XXX
His nightmares had changed. He no longer found himself screaming when he saw Alfred's twisted, bloated face, flesh hanging off in rotted strips, thick black fluid flowing sluggishly from his empty eye sockets, mouth spread in a wide, taunting, inhuman grin. No, now he found himself LAUGHING. He didn't even think about what he was doing, he just laughed, throwing his head back and howling with maniacal laughter. When he stopped, he turned back to Alfred and found his grin had grown even wider, in what looked like triumph.
Arthur awoke covered in his own vomit.
XXX
He was hearing things. He could hear what sounded like wing beats trailing him everywhere he went, only stopping when Arthur was at a standstill. He should be scared, he should be putting himself in a mental institution, but all he could feel was cold and something in the back of his mind he didn't want to dwell on, and all he could do was move around his house in a trance of sorts, the wing beats following him everywhere he went.
XXX
The wing beats followed him to the realm of dreams. Now, when Alfred faced him his ears filled with the sound of laughter and wing beats.
XXX
Arthur threw up constantly now. He would be sitting on the couch, staring at the television but not really watching it, when suddenly he would double up and rush to the bathroom to puke his guts out. But it wasn't always vomit. Once, it was blood.
XXX
He was seeing things. The wing beats had taken on a form. It was just a hazy, see-through outline lacking in any details, but it was there. And now he could see it follow him.
The outline was in his dream, of course. But, in the dream, nightmare, it…wasn't an outline. Now he could see it. All of it.
It was huge, far bigger than he'd expected. It was covered in twisted flesh that seemed to twitch and change between two different repulsive shades of green. It had long, grimy claws on each of its fingers and toes. But its face looked exactly like the dream Alfred's face. And when he laughed, it laughed too.
XXX
The voices in his head were still there this whole time, and they had gotten so loud he could no longer block them out. The creature followed along like always, but if it ever spoke it was drowned out by all the others. He still couldn't make out what they were saying.
XXX
He knew what they said. The voices. They finally formed coherent words. 'Kill him,' they murmured. 'He doesn't love you. He never will. Kill him. He deserves it for not loving you.' Their ideas were starting to sound good.
XXX
'Kill him. He'll never love you like we do. Do you know he wants you dead? He thinks you're worthless, in the way. A piece of trash. He doesn't love you like he should. Kill him.'
XXX
"Arthur? What are you doing here? Come in, it's freezing outside."
Arthur faked a smile, trying to seem normal. "Just thought I'd pay you a visit. Do you have any tea?"
"Of course, I always keep some for when you visit. Have a seat, I'll go make the tea…" Alfred escorted him to the living room before going to the kitchen to prepare some tea.
Arthur grinned and took out the knife he's spent all of yesterday sharpening. He tested the point before quickly hiding it again when Alfred reentered the room. They talked for a bit, then Alfred left again to finish making the tea.
"Right, here's your tea…" Alfred muttered, setting the steaming mug down on a coaster near Arthur.
"Hey… Alfred?"
"Yeah?"
"Could you… Sit next to me?"
Alfred looked a bit confused, but got up from his armchair and sat on the couch beside Arthur. As soon as he did so, Arthur grabbed Alfred's shirt and pulled him down, pressing their lips together in a kiss. Alfred, shocked, was slow to respond, but Arthur didn't care. He took out the knife while Alfred was distracted, moving it towards his back. As soon as Alfred tried to pull away, Arthur jerked the knife forward, sinking it into soft flesh.
"My sweet, sweet Al…" Arthur murmured against the other's lips as said other gasped in a mixture of pain and surprise. Grinning, a twisted reflection of his old smile, Arthur pulled the knife out and sunk it into Alfred's back again and again, until he finally slumped forward, blood trickling from his mouth as he drew his very last breath. Arthur continued to kiss him sweetly for a few more seconds before yanking out the knife, now covered in blood, and shoving Alfred's corpse onto the floor.
He could feel his silent companion patting him on the back while the voices whispered their praise. 'Good job. He deserved it. See how he didn't respond to your kiss? He never loved you. We love you. We'll always be here for you, we'll always love you.'
Arthur grinned and slowly sipped his tea.
A/N: Pffff. Brianna here. My first post, but not my first fanfic. ...It's my second. o3o This idea came to me while listening to 'Nightmare' by Avenged Sevenfold. Constructive criticism is welcomed. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows and make s'mores.