Alfred Frederick Jones had always admired Arthur Kirkland. The two had been on much better terms recently. Alfred dreamt of sweeping Arthur off his feet and living happily ever after. There was just one problem. A problem named Francis Bonnefoy.

Arthur and Francis had been in a relationship for six years. It had been fine when things started out, but after a while, things changed. Francis began to get violent. It had begun with a slap every once in awhile, and grew into evident bruises and slap marks. At one point, Alfred had seen slices in Arthur's once perfect skin.

After that happened, Alfred called his little brother Matthew. However, it wasn't the Canadian who answered the phone. It was-

"Ah, priviet comrade. I believe you are wanting to be talking to Matvey, da?" -his brother in law Ivan.

Alfred was so urgent that he forgot to be a douche to Ivan. "Yeah, I am Ruski. So could you please just give him the damn phone?"

Sensing the urgency in Alfred's voice, Ivan dropped the teasing. "Of course."

After a few moments of silence, Alfred heard his younger brother's quiet voice. "Yes Al? I was cooking."

"Dude, way more important. I-I think Francis is abusing Artie!"

"What makes you say that?" Matthew turned off the stove and put the pan on the back burner.

"His back is covered in scars. He has bruises on his arms and face, though he covers them. And think about the meetings! He flinches whenever Francis raises his hand. I seriously think something's up."

Matthew was speechless for a moment. His brother's reasonings made sense. "While that does fit, don't forget that we are nations," he reminded his brother gently, "it's normal for us to appear like that."

"No. It's more than that. I know it is. And goddammit Matt, I love him; I can't let it continue."

"I still think you're wrong, but you know what, go ahead. But you'll know that nothing is happening-" Matthew then heard a click, signalizing that his brother had hung up. He sighed, setting the phone down. He was about to begin cooking again when Ivan's arms wrapped around him, and turned him around for a passionate kiss. Dinner could wait.

Later on that night, Alfred stood outside Francis Bonnefoy's house, starring in the window from the bushes. From inside the house, he heard screaming.

"I thought I told you not to do that!"

"I-I'm sorry. I d-didn't mean-" Arthur was cut off by a slap.

"I didn't mean to. That is always your excuse? If you do not mean to, then do not do it! Now I believe it is time for your punishment." His words were cold as ice.

"P-please don't! I w-won't do it again!" Arthur's voice cracked with fear.

"It is far too late for that mon cher!" the term of endearment dripped with hatred.

Alfred had seen enough. Using the strength of his love, he knocked down the door to see Francis shoving Arthur back into a cabinet. The Brit fell to the floor, dishes shattering around him. He was cut by several shards.

"Francis you son of a bitch I'm going to end you!" Alfred charged at the Frenchman, rolling up his sleeves. After rendering the European unconscious, Alfred ran to Arthur's side. Kneeling down, he whispered gently, "Please be okay, please be okay." He gently picked him up bridal style, noticing all of his various wounds.

"Y-you came," Arthur said, using all of the strength he had.

"Of course," Alfred said, feeling a few tears roll down his cheek.

"W-why?"

"Because I want to be your hero." Alfred flashed him a sad smile, which Arthur returned before passing out in Alfred's arms.

Alfred walked outside to his car, which was parked down the road. He laid Arthur down on the back seat before grabbing the first aid kit to treat all of Arthur's cuts, finally realizing just how much damage Francis had inflicted upon Arthur's body. After he had finished, he made sure Arthur was secure before driving back to his own home. He placed Arthur in a guest bed, and was re-evaluating the various wounds when the Brit awoke.

"You really did rescue me," Arthur said gently, slightly scaring Alfred. (Though he'd never admit it.)

"Of course I did. I am the hero after all."

"But why?"

"Be-because I love you." A slight gasp came from Arthur. "I have for years. He's an evil bastard that never deserved you. You're kind, smart, one hell of a singer, and you continued to forgive him though he never deserved it."

Arthur was speechless. "Y-you love me?"

"Yeah. I do. More than anything. Even more than burgers! I want to protect you. Care for you. You're the highlight of my life." he gently bent down and kissed Arthur's forehead.

Arthur's road to recovery was not an easy one. It turned out that he had also broken a leg and a wrist, along with a slight fracture in his skull. He also had a hard time trusting for a while, but Alfred's love and support guided him through it. Two years later, they were married. And while they still had to see Francis from time to time, he never spoke to either of them or tried anything.

Arthur often wonders what would have happened if Alfred had not come. As a nation he couldn't die, so would he just have had to put up with Hell for all eternity? He still cries often, but now there's a loving shoulder to cry on. Arthur would never trade what happened to him, because without it, he wouldn't be where he is today. With a loving husband and a safe place to live, he couldn't ask for more.