23 November 2011 – 10:49 PM
Just finished applying to three colleges. Shoot me please.
MIPROE SIDE STORY - Fate
Anyway, I was just thinking about dolls and comics of voodoo dolls that I drew in my freshman year of Hi Skool. Then I thought of stitches and how cool it can look. Then I thought of Alfred and his brother Michael and the surgery that Alfred told the other nations about.
This takes place when America is a colony. This is before the period of Salutary Neglect, so it's around 1620 at this point.
Enjoy!
America was a good colony. He made sure to eat all of England's food. He followed all of the other's rules.
He was so happy when the older nation visited him.
As England tucked him in, America wondered what he would dream about.
The bells outside rang 9.
Alfred smiled. It was a new day. The sun was bright and shining through the window.
He smiled.
The nursemaid came in, smile all prepared for the son of the Lord of Zima. She smoothed the blonde hair from the four year old's eyes, helping the young noble to prepare for a new day. He smiled at her, she smiled at him. No matter what the people outside said about it, Alfred had no idea that kisses to the lips were meant for lovers.
It was how his father's culture greeted family members. A quick peck.
Alfred pursed his lips and the girl gave him a light peck. The child reached up and wrapped his arms about the other's shoulders. They went to the baths, where the child was washed and redressed from pajamas, wet nudity, to noble garbs.
Yet, everyone thought he was the servant of his brothers.
He went over to see Arthur. The ten-year-old smiled. For some reason, Alfred's age was stagnant. If this would continue, Arthur would be at the age of 13 before his brother began to age again. But everyone was happy.
Except the people below them.
They only saw the little boy that another nobleman had lusted over. They called him a catamite.
Alfred's tears and scars would never prove it otherwise.
Arthur pulled the child into his lap, though he flinched, the movement not escaping the Northern boy's eyes.
"Arthur. Are you okay?" Alfred turned to see the other. His cheeks were red, pallor pale, and sweat was started to bead on the line of his hair.
Arthur nodded. "I... just haven't taken... my pills, love." His chest and back hurt... Damn it. He reached over for a container. Opening it, he grabbed 10 of the pills inside and swallowed them dry.
"Arthur." There stood the Lord of Zima. Who would have thought that a mortal man could befriend death... could become immortal?
"Yes, father?" Though not his father, Zima was Alfred's father, so that was enough for the younger nobleman.
"Your mother and I need to speak with you." Arthur frowned at that. Gathering the child in his lap, who had been cuddling against the adolescent, Arthur stood.
"In private."
He frowned and set Alfred down.
"Papa?" Zima came over and hushed his only begotten son.
"Shh, little one. Papa must talk with Arthur, okay?"
"Okey..." Alfred began to draw on some spare paper that his youngest older brother had.
"Come, Arthur."
The bells outside rang 11.
Arthur couldn't breathe.
It wasn't a problem with his lungs this time.
"-born to provide organs to replace-"
"-not needed-"
Alfred's father did not speak. His face remained blank. Obviously, he was not told of the purpose of this meeting.
"-son of mine-"
"-raped, tortured-"
"-shameful-"
"-only four years old-"
His brothers all yelled against the higher nobles, proclaiming murder.
"-must ensure the Kirkland line-"
"-is a Kirkland-"
His mother finally pleaded. Why did she not show concern for her youngest child, only begotten child, before?
"SILENCE!"
The king spoke.
"Alfred Kirkland was born to provide organs for Arthur Kirkland. We cannot avoid that Arthur needs a heart, lungs, kidneys, and a liver. We need the pure Kirkland line, not a mix of noble blood and Northern blood."
Lord Zima stood silent.
"How?"
The king turned to Arthur.
"How could you do this?" Arthur felt the tears escape from his eyes. It didn't matter. Loving Alfred never mattered. "How could someone give birth to a child and not love it? Why are you sacrificing Alfred for me?"
"It's for the good of the kingdom."
Arthur ran from the room, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach.
The bells outside rang noon.
Alfred was outside, playing with the flowers that the gardeners had cut just for him. He was making little chains.
"Alfred!"
Alfred stopped.
America shot up. His heart was racing and he almost forgot to breathe. He was on the floor.
Who was that boy that looked so much like England?
The door opened. "America?" England asked, having heard the younger boy fall out of bed. The imperial country picked his little brother up, setting him on the bed.
"Are you all right?"
"..."
"Alfred?"
"England... Can I sleep with you?"
"... Of course."
24 November 2011 - 6:28 AM
Zima - Russian word for Winter. No, it's not Alfred's father's name. I was thinking about Shakespeare (as we are reading Hamlet). I remembered that a lot of the time, Shakespeare just called the kings, thanes, etc, by the names of their countries. Ex: Norwegian king in Hamlet = called Norway.
This is Miproe: Fate. Everyone dies eventually. No one escapes that fate. Sad I know.
NEXT CHAPTER! AWAY! *zooms off*
Read and Review