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Alexandria furrowed her eyebrows in displeasure, awoken from her slumber by the persistent wails of her infant son, which echoed down the halls of her cabin. They pierced the heavy silence that blanketed the night and effectively provided her with the incentive to climb out of bed and tend to the crying boy. She swung her feet over the side of the bed and shivered as the cold wood floor made contact with her bare feet. It hardly impeded her, only causing her to move with more swiftness. The worried mother practically raced out of her bedroom and down the hall, opening the nursery door with a bit more force than was necessary, which startled the child a bit, glancing with wide, teary eyes at his mother.
Alexandria's eyes darted around the room and immediately settled onto her son, who was standing in his crib and making a grabbing motion towards the floor, his tiny hands balled into fists.
"What is it, Arthur?" She cooed, moving towards her child. "What has gotten you so upset? Is it the wind? Are you hungry?" Alexandria hardly expected an answer, but quickly found that the sound of her voice calmed the boy. Arthur only babbled in response, finishing his bout of gibberish with a long whine as he unballed his fist, pointing to the ground. Alexandria followed his finger and smiled softly when she saw what he was pointing at. "Really?" She'd asked, bending over to pick up the item of Arthurs fascination: A small quilt. She held it in her hand and looked over to the doorway, first noticing the sound of creaking hinges, then the prescence of her other two sons. She sighed but smiled softly. "I'm sorry, it seems Arthur had dropped his quilt and wanted it dearly." She told the older boys that stood in the doorway tiredly. Alistair and Dylan crossed their arms, leaning on each other.
"What does he want with that dingy old thing anyway?" Alistair asked, looking the quilt over. Dylan turned his nose up and nodded his head. Alexandria sighed, folding it and placing it carefully in Arthurs crib. Arthur grabbed it and clung to it, sitting down on his bottom clumsily. His thumb quickly found its way into his mouth and his eyelids slid closed.
"He is your brother, boys. Arthur finds his quilt to be dear to him, like your pipe from your father Alistair, or your hunting knife from your uncle Dylan." She said in a soft scolding way. The two only shook their heads, their opinions unswayed. Alexandria turned her attention back to Arthur, who by this time was laying down and suckling his thumb quietly in content slumber. He appeared to be asleep, so Alexandria let him be and started backing up soundlessly. "Be careful not to wake your brother and hurry back to bed." She said with her hands on their shoulders and guiding them out of the room. Alexandria followed suit, returning to her room and to the warmth of her bed.
Arthur blinked his eyes open slowly, the images of his earliest memory of his mother still prominent in his mind, but the images were fleeting. Her kind, smiling face disappeared in the literal blink of an eye. "Morning Mummy…" He said sadly. He missed his mother, as well as the warmth that was around him just the night before, and the empty space beside him drew an exasperated sigh from his lips. It wasn't unusual for Alfred to leave him after a night of passionate love making, but it still left him with the feint feeling of heart ache. Even just a soft kiss to the forehead would have been enough, as Arthur was a light sleeper and would have felt it. But apparently Alfred couldn't be bothered by such things, and felt that the needs of his country were more important than those of his partner. This was a constant internal struggle for Arthur, so he was quick to push it from his mind, the only things really concerning him were getting out of bed and starting his day. The Brit was completely unaware that his life would soon be changed forever.
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