It was quiet leaving only the sound of the rain on the ground, creating a bog like grave for the bodies that littered the battlefield. It had been a long and bitter war, one that they never thought would come but they had been pushed too far. The sound of footsteps in the mud squelched and echoed among the silence. The owner being a tall red head cradling a smaller male in his arms, tears had clearly been falling from the usual bright green eyes of the red head that were now dull and heavy with the past images of the war. There was a shallow breathing pattern from the smaller male, it was clear he had been greatly injured at some point in the war. The way the red head held him close showed that he cared greatly for the one in his arms, he was just trying to find someone to help him and tend to him.
" 'ang in there alright brother, ye gonna 'ave ta hang on fer me" His voice wasn't its strong usual self, there was a slight waver to it as he continued to look for any sign of life. "Come on, yer as strong as any of us, ye can hang on till I find ye a doctor" There was a small stir from the small male in his arms.
"...i...i'm trying...you...you bloody...wanker..." He chuckled a little before coughing as he looked up with his emerald eyes looking up at the redhead, causing the red head to let out a small chuckle himself.
"This wanker is trying ta save ye ass, so just save ye strength rather than insult me" He gave a small smile before looking up and continued on his way to search the battlefield. The redhead knew his brother would hate him but it wasn't their fault. He kept telling himself over and over again in his head, their governments had become too powerful for them to listen to the countries. No matter how much each side had tried their parliaments had wanted this war. To them this war would boost the economy and help the governments line their own pockets. They didn't care about the people who had died or risked their lives just for them to get more money. It made the redhead sick. They had pinned families and friends against each other depending on which side of the wall they lived. Worse of all they had pinned him against his own brother, his little brother who he had watch grow up and become an empire, only to watch him come down with a crash. He looked to the man in his arms again, this was his younger brother now dying in his arms thanks to him and his forces. The once blonde hair of his brother was tinted red, he couldn't work out whether it was the Englishman's blood or someone else's who he had fought but it didn't matter he should never of had to see his younger sibling like this again. He was crying again and he couldn't stop them, instead he fell to his knees still cradling the smaller man.
"...A-Alistair...w-why have we stopped...?" The life was slowly draining from the blondes green eyes as he looked up at his older brother. Alistair just quietened him and held him closer and began to sing in a whisper.
"Are you goin' to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. Remember me to one who lives there, she once was a true love of mine." The blonde smiled a little recognising his favourite song from when he was a child, remembering a time when his mother sang it to him.
"Tell her to make me a cambric shirt, Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme; Without a seam or needlework, Then she shall be a true lover of mine. Tell her to wash it in yonder well, Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme; Where never spring water or rain ever fell, And she shall be a true lover of mine." He continued to listen to the soft tones of his elder brothers singing before taking a pained breath and began singing with him. Both the scot and Englishman singing in unison as they continued the song. On and on their voices mixed, both getting stronger until the finishing verses where the English man's voice began to wane and in the distance shouting could be heard.
" Tell him to thrash it on yonder wall, Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme, And never let one corn of it fall, Then he shall be a true lover of mine. 'old on Arthur, there's people coming, they are gunae help us, make ye better, ye can hear 'em right?" Alistair was rocking with the Englishman in his arms , back and forth, back and forth as Arthur held his brothers hand tightly as his voice was just a whisper as he finished the last verse.
" When he has done and finished his work. Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme: Oh, tell him to come and he'll have his shirt, And he shall be a true lover of mine." Alistair began to panic as the grip on his hand loosened a little, the voices shouting his name in the distance were of no consequence to him now, his little brother was dying in his arms and he couldn't do anything to help him. He didn't even comprehend when there was two others round him and helping him to his feet and taking him to safety and where Arthur could be treated, but no one was sure if it was too late or not.