He gripped the fabric and screamed as fresh tears fell onto the red, white, and blue. He loved that flag. He loved those colors. He loved his country and his people dearly, but he hated the rift. He hated it so much.
He had won his independence. He was no longer a part of England.
But why did it hurt so much?
Alfred ran his fingertip over the red stripes, and each and every individual star. He'd worked so hard for this and made so many sacrifices, words were spoken, he could never take them back. Ties were cut....
"You used to be so big..."
He buried his face in the fabrics , his tears sliding down the folds. Why did things have to tun out like this?
Why did Arthur have to hate him so much?
"I gave you everything! I raised your sorry ass you twat! And this is how you repay me? By starting a bloody fucken revolution?"
But he didn't hate Arthur... He couldn't.
The hands that once clung to the British man's now tightened its grasp on the American flag.
What he would do to hold that same hand again...
But it was too late for that.
This flag marked the beginning of his independence. It was a symbol of everything he and his people had strived for.. He just hopped it didn't mark the end of everything before that day.
"Today marks the beginning of a new era. Today now and forever we are free!"
But he had to be strong. No matter what happened he would be strong!
"It's called a Dogwood Tree, Alfred. It's just like a country. The branches are the many states, Providences or territories. And the petals are the people... If the tree dies the branches die. If the branches die then the petals die. If a country dies then so do there people. Remember that, Alfred."
He would be strong for his people... And for Arthur. No matter how much the man hated him.. He owed him at least that much.