The judge strengthened his grip on the gavel as the jury waited in dire anticipation for the lawyer's next words. The room was so sickeningly quiet that the accused's beads of sweat could be heard rolling down her forehead. Her mother's staggering breath slowly hitching as she mentally prayed that the worst would not happen to her beautiful daughter. An omniscient smile painted itself upon the blond man's face. The blond man who stood at the center of everyone's attention. The blond man whose sly words had captured the trust of the residents of Salem, Massachusetts. The blond man whose sky colored eyes terrified all those who sat in the chair of the accused.
He decided his audience had been kept waiting long enough. He had them where he wanted them and they would quickly believe anything he'd tell them. Even the foolish, hare brained lie that was about to leave his lips.
"Friends, fellow residents of Salem, the truth is staring us in the face. Evidence is all around us of her trickery. My client had every right to bring the evil of her actions into our eyes."
The accused woman's mother stood, knocking over her chair and trying to hold back her tears.
"My daughter is not evil," she pleaded. "She is innocent. She has committed no crime. I beg of you, Mr. Jones. Don't do this!"
"I'm sorry Mrs. Sinclair. Your daughter has failed all of the tests*. The midwives found a black spot on her lower right side. That is a sign of the devil. She was unable to recite the Lord's Prayer without error. Only a creature from Hell would have trouble speaking holy words."
"It is a b-birthmark," cried out the young woman. "I w-was born with a s-s-stutter. I-I am not evil, p-please, believe me."
"And what of the black cat that was found sleeping on your roof?" the lawyer quickly retaliated.
"I-it is not mine. I leave f-food out for the s-stray animals. It must have stayed thinking it would receive more food. I am n-not guilty."
"You took advantage of your job as a midwife and of your neighbor, my client, Mrs. Simmons. She came to you as a friend asking for help during her pregnancy and you, in turn, put a spell on her unborn child, did you not, Sabrina?"
"No! I d-didn't, I p-promise!" cried the young woman, tears heavily streaming down her cheeks.
"She lies!" barked Mrs. Simmons, one hand clutching her stomach. "She had always been jealous of my prosperity, she told me herself. I entrusted her with my child's life and she stole him from me before he had the chance to be born."
"B-b-but I d-didn't," sobbed Sabrina, her stutter worsening with her heightened nerves. "I o-once said I h-hoped to live a h-happy life l-like yours, I-I swear."
The blond man hurried to the jury, his next words dripping with hostility.
"How long will we fool ourselves in believe that innocent façade of hers? That woman," the lawyer shouted as he promptly pointed at Sabrina, "is a witch!"
The entire courtroom gasped in horror, some people trying to distance themselves from the "evil" woman in front of them. Mrs. Simmons slammed her hands on the table and screamed "I knew it!" repeatedly, bringing Sabrina into harder sobs and her mother into a sudden syncope state."
The lawyer quickly added, "If you don't believe me, ask Mr. Simmons who she so shamelessly seduced!"
"Drown her!" yelled a jury member.
"Hang her," spoke another.
The judge pounded the gavel, louder and harder each time to recollect the attention of the people in the room.
"This room will come to order," he bellowed. "Sabrina Sinclair, for your actions as a witch, you shall be burned at the stake on the date of March 7th."
Sabrina's howling screams could be heard throughout the town as she was dragged to a prison cell to await her execution.
"It may seem like quite a large sum but I can assure you, it will be worth it in the long run. Tristan* is great at his job and he will not rest until you and your daughter are safe and away from the lunatics of this town."
"Oh, Alfred, I owe you my life. You've saved my dear Sabrina from a gruesome fate."
Alfred smiled at the older woman. "Nonsense Mrs. Sinclair, it is my duty to rescue the accused from a punishment they do not deserve."
"S-still, we are f-forever in your d-debt, Mr. Jones," stated Sabrina.
"Sabrina, how many times have I told you? It's Alfred. We are friends. There is no need for formalities. Tristan is readying the carriage and will have it ready in about two days time. Be ready to leave by then. Have you told your other children of your departure, Mrs. Sinclair?"
"Oh, no. They've been away in Virginia, visiting their paternal grandparents. I've sent a letter asking them to stay a while longer. I will take their things to them and then travel to Rhode Island to live with my sister. I'd rather they didn't come back here."
"With all due respect, it's not very nice to keep the truth from them."
"With all due respect, Alfred, you shouldn't be talking since you are after all the greatest lawyer in Salem, having convicted over twenty 'witches'."
Alfred couldn't hold back his laughter at the irony. "You are right Mrs. Sinclair."
A short blond haired man ran up to Alfred, delivering news in a thick Welsh accent. "Alfred, the carriage will be leaving sometime the day after tomorrow but there are some things I am concerned about."
"Hello, Tristan," greeted Alfred to the small green eyed man. "And what might those things be?"
"Perhaps we should discuss this in private," whispered Tristan, after having noticed Sabrina and her mother staring at them.
Alfred let the Welsh man pull him into a nearby barn. "How did you get the girl out?"
"Is that all you are worried about, my friend? That was a part of my job. All you have to do is get them out of town. Do not worry how my part is done."
Tristan's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the lawyer. "Did you bribe the guard? What did it take this time? Money, food, women? Or did you offer something of higher value?"
Alfred sighed, knowing his friend would not rest until his questions were answered. "All I did was convince him that Sabrina was being followed by malevolent spirits and they would try to attack anyone who got too close to her."
"And how did you convince the town she was a witch? The townsfolk were wary of believing the fat woman when she accused the girl, so why did they believe you?"
"Do you ever use names, Tristan? Not many people like Mrs. Simmons because of her condescending attitude but her miscarriage was definitely useful in proving Sabrina's use of witchcraft."
"And how'd you come to that conclusion?"
"I'm glad you asked, my small Welshman. Sabrina was Mrs. Simmons' primary midwife so she had full access to the baby. Were anything to go wrong, which it did, all the blame would fall on her."
Tristan internally growled at the constantly annoying nickname that Alfred gave him. "But what about the tests the girl failed?"
"All incredibly idiotic trials made to prove anyone of being a witch."
"So the devil's mark? The Lord's Prayer? The seduction of the fat woman's husband?"
"The black spot found on her side is just a birthmark. Her stutter plus the scary witch hunter that interrogated her made reciting the Prayer without error impossible. Mr. Simmons is a drunk who will rub on anyone who will let him. He propositioned Sabrina about sleeping with him for money, that she desperately needed, but she refused out of respect for Mrs. Simmons''.
"Respect? For that old hag?"
"Well that and disgust of Mr. Simmons. Sabrina is not a witch but the people of Salem are too blind by their own selfish needs to see that. They blame innocent people like Sabrina just to get something in return. For Mrs. Simmons, that would be hiding her infertility."
"You said yourself she had a miscarriage. And what of all the weight she'd gained?" asked Tristan in disbelief.
Alfred giggled. "Nope. Her husband and neighbors mistook it for a pregnancy and she was too embarrassed to tell them the truth. Of course something like that couldn't go on forever so she decided to get a scapegoat. She picked Sabrina out of jealousy; jealousy of her husband preferring the midwife over her."
"How in the hell did you figure all that out?"
"It's obvious. Plus I know Mrs. Simmons' doctor personally; he owed me a few favors."
"You bloody brilliant bastard. You know, one day you'll get it wrong. I bet 10 dollars* on that."
"Make it thirteen. This is our thirteenth saved "witch" after all. Lucky 13."
"Right. Thirteen it is," agreed Tristan, confident that although he would probably lose the bet, Alfred would never charge his best friend.
"Of course none of this would have been possible without Sabrina and her mother's cooperation. They sure can act. Sabrina's always been able to convince others with her ability to cry on cue. Can't tell you how many times she tricked me into doing things for her when we were kids," Alfred nostalgically laughed at the memory as he exited the barn.
"Alfred, wait," called Tristan.
"I'm sorry, my friend, but I have other matters to attend to."
"One last thing, Alfred." Alfred turned noticing a change in Tristan's tone. The Welshman looked at the ground, hesitant of continuing.
"What is it?" wondered Alfred, somewhat concerned.
"…Why?"
"Why wha-?"
Tristan interrupted. "Why are you… Are you really… You told me a while back that you and the girl… you and Sabrina were going to get married."
"I told you that so long ago, I'm surprised you remember. Yes, when we were little, our parents agreed that we would wed when I reached 20 years of age. The agreement voided, however, when my parents'…" stopped Alfred. How long had it been since he last thought of his parents?
"But you said you would still marry her eventually," said Tristan quickly, knowing it was painful for Alfred to speak of his parents and the incident.
"I said I was thinking of still marrying her. Why not, after all? We've known each other our whole lives. It would certainly make her mother happy."
"How will you marry her if you are sending her away?"
"Oh, my small Welshman, are you worried about me?" cooed Alfred while pinching Tristan's cheeks.
"Now way, you imbecile. I told you never to call me that."
"My apologies, my dear Kirkland," said Alfred letting go of his friend's face. A small, almost sad smile appeared on the lawyer's face. "I prefer having her somewhere safe and away from here then marrying her and becoming a widower a few days later."
Tristan held Alfred's hand. "Then go with her. I will take you out of this town as well. Absolutely no charge. You can start a family with her in Rhode Island or any place other than here for that matter."
Alfred was taken aback by his friend's sudden offer before embracing Tristan in a bear hug. "Thank you my small Welshman, but I could never leave Salem. Crazy, paranoid residents, or not, it is my home. Not all of us can have a fairy tale ending like you and your beautiful wife."
On any other occasion, Tristan would have punched Alfred for touching him in that way but this time he let the hug happen. Alfred was sad to have Sabrina, one of the last persons he cared for, leave him, but his pride would never let him admit that. Tristan knew this and knew the best thing he could do for Alfred in this time was pretend to be oblivious and let Alfred sort through his thoughts by himself.
"Mhmm," replied Tristan while returning the embrace.
"Be sure to visit sometime, Mrs. Sinclair," said Alfred as he helped the elder woman onto the carriage.
"I wouldn't dare," she uttered quietly, knowing to keep her volume at a minimum so that the town citizens wouldn't hear.
"I'll make sure of that," called out Tristan as he loaded the carriage with Mrs. Sinclair's luggage.
Alfred chuckled. "Is this all, Mrs. Sinclair?"
"I think I left my special dishes in a box on the counter. Would you mind getting it for me dear?"
"Not at all," said Alfred as he hurried into the house. The box laid on the counter like Mrs. Sinclair had said, with a shadow standing next to it.
"Sabrina? Why aren't you on the carriage? Tristan will get upset if you don't get out soon."
"Oh, Alfred, I can't thank you enough for what you're doing."
"It's my pleasure. Now seriously, you should go."
Sabrina walked up to Alfred and held him tightly. "I don't want to go without you, Alfred," she whispered. "Please come with us. We could be so happy together."
"I know Sabrina," mumble Alfred and wrapping his arms around her small frame. "I'd be lying if I said I never thought about running away with you."
"Then why don't you?"
"My life is here. My job can help save people like it did for you. Abandoning this would be too selfish of me. I wouldn't be able to live with that regret in my heart."
Sabrina looked into Alfred bright blue eyes. "Then give me something to remember you by."
At that, Alfred crashed his lips onto Sabrina's, and for a second, time stopped. He was weightless. Alfred was no longer in Mrs. Sinclair's old house that he basically grew up in, but instead he stood, dressed in a brand new suit, at an altar. Next to him was Tristan shooting him a blissful smile. In front of him and walking down the aisle was his beautiful bride Sabrina being accompanied by her mother. Her curly red locks were tied back with a golden ribbon and her hazel eyes stowed behind a snow white veil.
"I'm not sleepy, Daddy," moaned the boy Alfred carried on one arm. The girl slept silently on Alfred other arm. Sabrina unlocked the door to their house and took girl off of Alfred. Alfred laid the boy, hair as red as his mother, on the bed. "I'm not tired," said the boy but his drowsy, blue eyes betrayed his mouth. Alfred kissed his forehead then tucked him in tightly. Next to the boy, on the other bed, slept the younger sister. Alfred brushed her blond hair out of her face and kissed her forehead before heading off to his room.
"Dad, Mom, loser."
"Shut up, freak," cried the girl to her brother's insult.
"This," said the boy as he turned towards the young lady behind him, "is Bethany, my girlfriend; and as of tonight, my wife."
The young lady held out her hand to present the shiny gold band to her future in-laws. Sabrina happily burst into tears, embracing her soon to be daughter-in-law, Alfred quickly following after.
"Daddy, I went to the doctor today," said the girl while holding her husband's hand. "It's going to be a boy and I-"
"We," interrupted her spouse.
"Yes, we want to name him after you." Alfred's eyes teared up with immense joy; he engulfed his arms around his daughter and son-in-law.
"Come on, grandpa."
"Don't rush your grandfather, Freddie, he's not as young as he used to be," joked Sabrina.
Alfred, sitting on the porch, pulled Sabrina onto his lap and kissed her cheek, making Sabrina giggle. They stayed on the porch and watched their five grandkids play.
"Be careful with climbing the trees," shouted Tristan to his own grandchildren from the porch stairs that he and his wife rested on.
Then time rammed back into Alfred's body and he fell back to earth as Sabrina pulled away from the kiss.
"I have to go, Alfred," she dolefully whispered. Picking the box off the counter, Sabrina gave Alfred one last glance before walking out of the kitchen, out of the house, and out of Alfred's life.
"…I love you," muttered Alfred to the empty house.
Author's Note:
*Tristan: If you couldn't tell, he is Wales. (Not an official Hetalia character.)
*Tests: The tests that Alfred mentioned were trials that those accused of being a witch had to go through. The most common ones being 1) midwives stripping down the "witch", usually in front of the town and checking for any black spots, known as "Devil's Marks" and 2) the Lord's Prayer in which the person had to recite the Lord's Prayer without error. Evil beings can't say holy words so any mistakes made proved that the person was a witch. A black cat and red hair (which was rare in Massachusetts at that time) were more signs of a witch. (Source: www (dot) life123 (dot) com / holidays / halloween / witches / signs - of - being - a - witch (dot) html)
*13 dollars: Back in the early Colonial Era, Great Britain did not want to spend so much silver on the colonies so silver British currency slowly became scarce in the colonies. To continue the use of money, some colonists turned to foreign coins. The most commonly used foreign coin was the Spanish silver coin (eight reales). "The eight reales was the highest unit of Spanish silver in the New World, similar in size and weight to the thalers of the various German states, the French écu, the Portuguese cruzado and the ducatoon of Holland; colonists called the eight reales coin a "dollar," from the Dutch "daalder" (a derivative of the German thaler)." (Source: www (dot) coins (dot ) nd (dot) edu / ColCurrency / CurrencyIntros / IntroValue (dot) html)
This story may or may not have created due to my recent binging of Supernatural episodes. I apologize if parts of the story don't make sense. I was planning on making the chapter much longer but I thought that last sentence was a good close this time. Most of this was written late at night so please feel free to correct any mistakes you see. The next chapter will hopefully be Arthur's appearance.