"A – Arthur...Are you sure you want to go here?" Alfred's voice shook as their car pulled up to the old 12th century castle.
"Yes, I'm sure." England turned off the car and looked over to the American, who was looking pretty tired after a five hour jet lag, and the six hour drive from England's house in London, to Chillingham castle in Northumberland. Sighing, England stepped out of the car and shut the door, walking around to the other side to drag the sleepy man out of the car and down what legend called the "Devil's Pathway".
"You know, America, they call this the "Devil's Pathway" because, back when they still used the dungeon," England took a hold of Alfred's trembling hand, pulling him closer to his body. "They would let the prisoners out and they'd run towards the gates," he pointed back to the small green car that was still cooling down in the drive way. "And there would be archers up there," he pointed to the walls lining the castle grounds. "And they would shoot the prisoners as they ran, hack up the survivours, if there were any, and then leave the bodies to rot," He smiled, looking up at the blond as he returned the look with a nervous one of his own, equipped with a nervous laugh.
"Y – you're kidding, right, Arthur?" The American only felt the fear grow more in his chest when the Briton shook his head. "Great..." He mumbled, rubbing the back of his head nervously.
The sun was setting behind the trees, and the sky was a dark crimson. Alfred took this as a bad omen, and intertwined their fingers before giving the smaller man's hand a squeeze.
"They say "be gone by sundown or you'll have to comply with the evil spirits that reside here"," England shrugged. "Oh well. You're delayed flight caused us to be here, later, and you have a flight in the afternoon. So, we're spending the night here." Arthur swung their arms gently as they made their way to the door.
"Ca – can't we...just...Go back to your place a – and cuddle or something?" America grinned slightly, squeezing his hand again. "Or have sex at home, or something. The last thing I want to do is spend my one night off with you in...in a ghost town!"
England felt his face heat up and he turned around, stopping himself from smacking the other on the back of the head. He simply drew in a deep breath and turned, pushing open the old creaky door to the castle.
The first room was the Great Hall: an Elizabethan chamber, it was dressed in typical stone flagged floor, tapestries, armour, weapons and the antlers of deer and wild cattle just as in former times and so has a rare and surviving quality of those courtly days. The only light supply the two had were their flash lights, and the small chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, but those were just candles. There were two chandeliers, six candles on each, for a whopping total of twelve candles in the small hallway.
"Wow..." England gasped, trailing his free hand along the table top of the long table. "I haven't been here in centuries, since it was fortified in 1344."
"Hah! You ARE old, old man!" America shouted, making himself jump slightly at the fact that his voice echoed so grandly throughout the haunted place.
"Git," England groaned, pulling his hand back from the American's to pick up a golden wine glass off of the table top. America panicked a bit, and wrapped his arms around England's waist, hugging in from behind. "Tch, anyways," England rolled his eyes, leaning into the American's chest. "All my kings have been here one time in their life, and I've only been here to oversee it's construction, and then another time to stop all the torture that was going on."
"T – torture?" America swallowed hard, and the smaller nation nodded. Alfred burried his face into the shorter's sandy blond hair. "Th – they tortured people?"
England nodded. "Oh, yes. Didn't you know? My history has some of the most gruesome moments in history. The plague...Mid-evil times...Renaissance, I don't have a very pretty past," England pulled his iPhone out of his pants pocket, poking at the screen before pulling up the castle's website. "Here, the torture chambers:
"A visit to the Torture Chamber is not for the faint hearted. It displays interesting and gruesome implements of punishment, including a stretching rack, cages, a bed of nails, nailed barrel and spiked chair.
The serene face of the Iron Maiden is supported by a horrible, larger than life size hinged and spiked casing to hold a live body. The thumb screws, chains, leg irons, cages, man traps and branding irons remind of a world long past.
The Castle Dungeon is lit by one small arrow slit in the thick wall, the chamber is marked with the crudely-cut letters carved by sad prisoners. A trap-door in the floor reveals the very genuine bones of a child in the vault below. Early inmates have scratched their 'diary' with incised lines, one for each day."
America sighed loudly, tightening his grip around the Briton's waist. "O – oi, can't you just take me up on my other offer? C'mon, doesn't sleeping in a warm bed in my arms sound really good right about now?" England shook his head and the American rolled his eyes.
"No, we're staying the whole night here, no matter how scared you get." Arthur twisted around in the other's grip, pressing their lips firmly together, slipping his tongue in for a moment before pulling back.
"Aww, are you gonna leave me hangin' like that?" Alfred frowned, brushing their lips together briefly before jerking his head up. "Wh – what was that?!" He panicked, pulling the Englishmen closer into his chest.
England simply laughed, wrapping his arms tighter around the other's neck. "Calm down, you're quite jumpy."
"No, I swear I sa –," He gasped, pushing at the older country. "L – lemme outta here! I – I swear I just saw a shadow o – or something move, England!!"
Frowning, England twisted his head to look in the direction the American was pointing. "There's nothing there, Alfred, calm down, dammit," He started to laugh a bit and then immediately shut up at the cold breath on the back of his neck. England yelped and pressed himself more against the other country, surprising both of them. "Shit...I wasn't expecting that," England laughed, turning around. "Well, shall we move on to the library? I've been wanting to visit there for a while."
"I – isn't there a bedroom we can go to or something, to sleep for a while? I'm way too tired to move any more," His body was shaking and he pulled the Brit more, practically lifting him off his feet to walk forwards.
"P – put me down!" He insisted, and Alfred complied. Sighing, England ran his hands through his own hair. "I suppose we could sleep in the pink room. Though...There's this boy that haunts there," He shrugged. "He's the most famous ghost in Chillingham Castle, and they say you can see him through blue flashes, and a blue halo of light above your bed. Followed by a wail, of course.
"They say the hauntings stopped when they found the body of the boy in a ten foot wall," He shrugged. "Though, you never know. They also say that the ghost of John Sage, a former torturer, and Lady Mary Berkely haunt the castle, because guests have reported screams for help, and doors slamming mysteriously."
"F – fuck, Arthur! A – are you telling me this to scare me!?" America looked down at the Brit, who simply nodded. "Yo – you're so fucking mean!" He pouted.
England laughed, pulling away from the embrace to lace their fingers again, pulling him towards the pink room. "Come on, how about we go to sleep, hm? Or, at least a small nap. If you can." He grinned.