[ Arthur's P.O.V ]

Solitude had been treating me well. Being stripped of prior relations and ties has introduced me into carrying out on my own. My own nation was my main concern; everyone else's problems were secondhand against mine. Benefits of my heightened attention and lack of distractions shone greatly amongst my land and decisions. My boss was quite pleased, which allowed me to take their word with pride.

However, it wasn't long until my jubilant streak was shattered by news that made it across seas.

The United States was in the midst of a civil war.

At first, I treated the news with a cold shoulder and didn't even bother pondering about it. That prat declared independence and that's what he got. All further issues were his to burden and not mine. That is what he wanted anyways; to see the world and be his own country.

As days rolled by, news from States continued to flood in. Violent arms from the North and South clashed together, sending countless bodies upon their own soil. Again, I turned away, my pride giving me strength to not care.

Unfortunately, this was Alfred. This meaning I still cared for the lad. Despite still being hateful and betrayed from our revolution, I still had a troublesome bug picking away within me.

That's when I decided to pay a visit— to check up on that twit.

...

The voyage there was rough. It wasn't a surprise to see how little passengers wished to travel to the States. Seeing as how chaos rose at every square foot on its land, it was simply a risk to even go there. But, that didn't faze me. Unlike the mortals around me, death and harm wasn't a concern of mine. It was an empty possibility that held no meaning.

My first steps back on my previous colonies were not as I would have expected them to be. The moment I my foot touched the soil I felt my heart twist in a faint pain. Even now, my body still feels what the land feels. It's worn off since the war, but I still have a few weary connections.

An invisible weight was put on my shoulders as I trudged through the land. Everyone I passed by had their heads down and held those near to them close. Children grew silent as they clung to their mothers dresses, stumbling along. People, both black and white, gave off the aura of despair and yearn for peace.

My God... What had become of this nation?

Alfred lived in an empty suburb north of New York, according to officials I met on the ship. He was transferred there for 'his own good', which only made me more concerned. Being transported away to an isolated area, away from your people, only meant disastrous events were being born.

The directions I was given led me to an old house that appeared to be hanging off its hinges. It's wooden walls had burnt marks smeared across it like an artist's canvas. The front door was ajar, frequently squeaking from the wind that blew by. An eerie aura drifted from the building, causing my breath to cut short briefly.

Carefully, I walked up the front steps, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end from the creaking beneath my feet.

"Alfred?"

I called out into the silent house, straining my ears to hear any response. There was none.

Inside was no better than the exterior. Wallpaper was torn down, it's strips barely touching the scratched floor below. The windows were dusty and smeared with filth, filth of what something I could not deduce. It was incredibly cold, an extreme contrast from what the temperature was outside. Half burnt out candles littered the floor and occasional table that was propped up against the wall, yet no one was around to appreciate its dull light.

The farther I walked in, the more horrors I saw. A bedroom door was closed near the end of a messy hallway. I assumed that was where Alfred retired to.

"Alfred?"

I called out once more, stopping outside of the bedroom door. This time, I did get a response. It wasn't words but more like a soft sound inside. A quick scrape was made along with a quiet thud.

"Alfred? It's Arthur."

I identified myself, which now seemed like a stupid thing to do considering who else would come in with a British accent and refer to him as his human name.

The doorknob wobbled a bit before it was slowly pulled open, giving me the okay to venture further.

Pushing it open, I felt the blood from my face drain at the sight inside.

Alfred was crouched against the corner of the room, hands entangled in his hair. Blood was sprinkled across the wooden floorboards as if acting as a new paint gone wrong. The window above the moth eaten bed was shattered, the wind outside cause the curtains to flutter around. At my appearance, Alfred flinched a bit and quickly turned away from me.

"Alfred..." I felt my voice go gentle, which was a surprise since I was intending to be formal and serious and not show my care. I wanted to have my visit appear business related and not on personal matters. Yet, as always, my voice tended to stray. "Are you okay?"

The American gasped softly as if someone had punched him, despite nothing happening. He lifted his head up and stared directly at me. My heart nearly gave out when I saw the facade that he bore.

Brilliant blue eyes now cracked and shattered like old porcelain. His young demeanor now aged with grief. His lips trembled as they struggled to form words. The expression he gave me was of pure plea. He looked weak... Vulnerable. Not once had I ever witnessed Alfred in such a way. He always was so strong no matter what was going on.

I crouched down beside him, reaching out gingerly to put my hand upon his shoulder. He was so thin; so feeble. Touching him felt like touching a snowflake, any more force could cause him to break. Alfred looked over at me with a fearful look. Did he know this was me?

"Their screams..." Alfred's voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Can you hear them, too? They're so loud. S-So loud." A slight smile appeared on his lips before disappearing back into his broken mask.

The boy I fought that night in the rain was no longer here. That was clearly evident at the sight of the person before me. That boy would have just laughed this off or forced a fake smile to hide everything. That boy would be frowning at me and demanding why I was here. That boy would not be shivering in the corner, mumbling about the sounds of the grieving.

"No, I don't hear the screams." I responded softly, being careful with how I moved and spoke towards him. He nodded, eyes flickering from my shoes to my chest.

"I see... You're not from here then. You-You can't hear them." Alfred mumbled absentmindedly, hugging his knees to his chest. Oh, so he didn't realize who I was. Maybe that was a good thing, for now. What a wonder that would be if he recognized me. We haven't spoken in person since that time.

"Why don't you lie down on the bed." I suggested, truly believing he needed to be resting somewhere properly instead of against the wall. I reached over to take his hands gently, ushering for him to stand up.

Surprisingly, Alfred complied with my idea and shakily stood up. His legs wobbled and revealed torn trousers with dried crimson.

Once up on his feet, Alfred gasped sharply. The hands holding my own squeezed tightly. Usually, I would have to bite my tongue to keep myself from wincing since he had such immeasurable strength. But now, his grip hardly struck a nerve.

"A-Attacking.." Alfred whimpered, his whole body shaking as he refused to move any farther.

I tilt my head, rubbing my thumbs against the top of his hands in an attempt to comfort him. "Attacking? Who? What's wrong?"

He didn't respond at first but merely shuddered about something I wasn't aware of.

Suddenly, Alfred let out a scream and immediately dropped to his knees. I dropped before him too, startled about what was happening.

"Wh-Whats wrong?! Alfred, please, answer me. Are you hurt?"

The answer I received was yet another cry of pain as he let go of my hands and now gripped the front of my shirt. I felt myself being pulled towards him as he buried his face into my shoulder. Oh, Alfred...

"Ch-Children... Women.." Alfred sobbed between strained cries. "My p-people... I'm dying... They're killing me."

That's when I noticed something I hadn't noticed before. I felt a warm substance begin to wet my front. Looking down, I saw blood branching out on Alfred's chest, gradually pooling beneath us. He was... hurt. Wounds were being inflicted upon his body as we sat here— self inflicted wounds by his people.

Alfred's breathing was ragged and labored as he clung to me. Small cuts began to paint across his knuckles and cheeks. It was true. His people were literally killing him.

As a nation, you have a connection to your citizens. When a place is bombed or invaded, you feel it. When you lose a portion of your land, you lose strength and energy. When your people are being slaughtered, you are maimed. Especially if it's a war amongst yourself. It's a never ending battle on your body and mind that only causes destruction. Oh, Alfred... I'm so sorry you have to go through this.

"Shh, it's okay." I said hesitantly, gently rubbing his back as he leaned against me. "Take deep breaths, Alfred. It's alright. I promise, you're going to be okay. I'm here, I'm here."

All the grudge I held against Alfred seemed to disappear. I couldn't be petty about the past right now. Clearly, Alfred needed someone desperately with how things were playing out. I knew I was the only one who could stay and care for him properly.

"I-It hurts.. It hurts so m-much.." Alfred sobbed uncontrollably, tears wetting my shoulder. He was truly broken. You often use that word to describe sad, scarred people lightly but Alfred truly embodied the word. Broken.

Suddenly, I felt Alfred jolt against me and let out another scream before his voice cracked. I could feel the pain that coursed through his body and land. It was unbearable just to hold him helplessly. A cracked gasp escaped Alfred before he suddenly went limp. The weight of his body collapsed against me and I found myself holding him in my arms.

"Alfred?" I questioned into the silence that started to settle. Alfred didn't respond.

I shifted my hold on him in a more comfortable position for him and myself. Lying him on my lap, I cradled his head in my arms. His chest rose and fell, ensuring me he simply passed out from the pain.

His eyes were closed but the expression on his face reflected the image of pure discomfort. Oh, Alfred... My dear Alfred. Before, I would smile at the thought of all this; you meeting your fall and me swooping in to proclaim how I was right about you not being ready. But, I can't do that. I simply can't do that. Never would I ever want you to endure all this. If I could absorb this pain, I would. You're still so young and have so much to learn.

Leaning down, I planted a soft kiss upon his forehead, trying to soothe everything that was ailing him. For a second, I contemplated moving him to the bed, but now that I looked at it I noticed how it was no different than the floor. So, I simply kept him in my arms, stroking his mangled hair.

"Rest now. It's alright." I whispered softly, keeping my movements and voice as sweet as possible. "Everything will be alright. I'm here, and I'll be here until you wake and until you are better. Everything will be okay."

Past aside, Alfred was still Alfred. He still was one I cared about very deeply.

Politically, I couldn't do anything to help his nation. It was an internal struggle that my British forces had no involvement in. However, personally, I could help.

So, I vowed to stay with Alfred until all of this resolved.

"Even with all that's happened, I'm still here for you."