2. The First Step

Hi, guys. MenaSo, thanks for the first review. It made me happy. I decided to write the second part for now, and we'll see what'll happen. Tell me, what do you think?


Arthur couldn't gather what was happening. He was emptying his stomach, but he felt an odd pressure at the bottom of his insides. He stopped barfing, but what came next was even worse. He pulled histrousers and pants down, and sat on the toilet. He started defecating and couldn't stop. He wanted to scream, but couldn't. His tongue wasn't moving, his voice; it seemed that it disappeared. He tried breathing deeply, knowing that some air would help him calm down, but again, it didn't work the way he wanted it to. Air wouldn't come in. Gasping for some relief, he felt tears streaming down his cheeks. Hopelessness closed in on him.

"Arthur! Arthur, what's happening to you? Oh, God Arthur, respond to me, to my voice!" He felt hands shaking him, and he could only send a look to the person holding him by shoulders.

It was Alistair. He had never seen him so upset, not even when their father died. He opened his mouth, trying to say not to worry, but only sobs came out. He was scared. Rhys was holding a phone, while Reilley just watched, unable to move, except a hand he held out to hold himself against the cold wall.

And that was the last he remembered.


When he woke up, he met up with the white ceiling. First thought that came to his mind was that he survived. Everything was alright now. He just felt hungry. Arthur looked around. He was in a hospital bed. Was he alone? His question was immediately answered, as he saw Alistair sprawled with his upper body on the mattress, just centimetres from him while sitting on a chair beside the bed. Even though he was sleeping, the circles beneath his eyes were comparable to those of a panda. He wished for someone to come and tell him what happened. Surely, the doctors would know what occurred in his body for him to collapse like that. Did he poison himself with something?

As if called, Rhys entered the dark room. Even though there was some light from the hallway, the light in the room was turned off.

"Rhys…" It sounded hoarse. He didn't have the strength to voice himself further. His throat was throbbing like he was swallowing needles. It hurt, and it was dry. He wanted water.

Apparently, that one word was enough for Rhys to rush to his side, look at him, push Alistair from the bed and the chair, and then call for a nurse to come. Alistair awoke from the fall, looked around, and then understood. He stood up, looked at Arthur, nodded his head, and then; all the while ignoring Rhys' yelling as to why he didn't stay conscious; hugged Arthur. Arthur, although glad because of the rare display of affection, started gasping for air from the force of the embrace he was in. He was immediately let go, which surprised him. The look on Alistair's face at that moment gave him shivers. It appeared as if Alistair was scared. But that was nonsensical. Alistair was never scared; he was the brave one of the family, son of their mother's Scottish origin.

They all had chosen a country or a region for themselves long ago, leaving Arthur to be England in their silly games and charades. Mother was The Land itself, without a name, while their father was Normandy. Mother would still chuckle from time to time when Normandy was mentioned. Arthur didn't understand the reason for it.

Breaking his train of thoughts, a nurse came in, grabbed him by the hand so roughly that he couldn't endure, so he let out a whimper. This caused a ruckus. Alistair jumped like a leopard, yelling at the nurse, while she just watched him with soulless eyes. She didn't care. Despite being harsh, she thoroughly checked his condition, and then wrote everything down on a paper of sorts. When finished, she headed to the door, but before exiting, turned.

"You'll need to leave this room within next hour. This isn't a room designated for patients like him. You'll be given proper room and bed, don't worry. And for God's sake, give the child some water, it's dehydrated, which isn't really surprising. Since it's pretty late, the doctor will come tomorrow to talk to you. The room you'll be using is on the third floor, number 4." She said this in a flat voice that could scare babes into crying, and then left.

After those words, Alistair muttered something about being a bitch and Rhys cautiously approached Arthur and held out a bottle of water for him. Seeing that Arthur wasn't taking it, he realised that he needed help sitting up. He blushed furiously, ashamed of himself. He helped him up, putting a couple of pillows behind his back to support him properly. He then opened the bottle, and tilted it slightly to Arthur lips. Arthur was more than grateful. He gulped greedily. He scowled when Rhys put the bottle away. He wanted more.

"No Arthur, you must be moderate, otherwise you'll feel ill." Rhys shook his head while saying this and Arthur could see guilt written all over his face, so he bit his lip and just nodded.

He turned to his brothers. Opening his lips to ask where Reilley was, the water he just took in came out of his mouth and nose. His body rejected fluids. Rhys knelt next to him, cleaning the water with a handkerchief he had.

"Don't worry, this is expected. Do not panic. You'll be better soon and able to eat and drink." He said soothingly, and this tone reminded Arthur of their father's voice and lullabies. He nodded, wondering when he will see mother and Reilley.

"Can-can-can you tell me what happened?" Arthur's voice trembled, and he scolded himself for feeling anxious.

Alistair sat on the bed, looked him in the eyes and said what Arthur had to hear.

"You had a seizure."