Chapter 2: Diversions and dilemmas
*The following morning*
Alfred woke up at 7:30, ready to make a wonderful breakfast for his prince. He slipped out of bed and pulled on his days outfit; black slacks, a white button up shirt, and a pitch black vest. He slipped on a pair of black shoes walked to his princes study, astounded to see Arthur already up and working intently on something, his brows furrowed in concentration.
"Good morning sir." Alfred said, walking into the room. Arthur looked up from his work, his eyes trained on Alfred.
"Good morning, did you sleep well?" Arthur asked, Alfred nodded truthfully.
"Yessir, you're up early." Alfred noted, Arthur sighed and nodded, rubbing his temple and tapping his chin with his pen.
"Bloody war, it's time consuming." Arthur said, returning his eyes back to his work.
"How long have you been up?" Alfred asked, Arthur thought for a moment, staring off into space tiredly before snapping back into reality and looking back at Alfred.
"Since 3am." Arthur said tiredly, finally answering his question.
"Holy crap, since 3?!" Alfred asked in awe, his prince had only gotten 5 hours of sleep! Arthur nodded, returning his gaze to the dozens of papers presented in front of him. Alfred stood there for a moment before telling Arthur to call him if he needed anything and leaving the room, deciding there wasn't much he could do. Arthur sighed and wished he could leave as well, but the thoughts left his head as he was forced to sign a treaty giving away a bit of his goods. He sighed, not wanting to be the cause of people losing their jobs.
The rest of the day went normally enough; Alfred brought him lunch around 1 which was probably the highlight of his day, getting to see a human being. Around 9pm Arthur finally closed his work as stood up, about to go to bed. A small smile appeared on his face when Alfred stumbled in, losing his balance the second he walked through the door. He apologized over and over again for knocking over a book shelf which he had grabbed to try to steady himself. Arthur told him it was fine and helped him stand, making sure he was alright.
They both pushed the bookshelf back into a standing position before shoving all of the books back onto the shelves, Alfred still apologizing.
"You're quite clumsy aren't you?" Arthur asked, Alfred blushed a bit and answered.
"S-Sorry, I don't try to be." he mumbled, returning to cramming a huge book onto an overly tight shelf. Arthur laughed, truly happy to be talking to the boy.
"Clumsy people are fun to be around sometimes..." Arthur mused, finishing with the next to top shelf. He tried to reach the top shelf but found himself a few inches too short, the book still in his hand was balancing on the edge of the shelf. Alfred smiled and reached up for it, placing it on the shelf, he was several inches taller than Arthur. "You're lucky you're so tall..." Arthur mumbled, unhappy with his current height. Alfred smiled but said nothing.
Ten minutes later the shelves were properly fixed and Arthur stretched his arms, extremely tired.
"Time for bed sir?" Alfred asked, Arthur shook his head.
"Not quite, want to go get some dinner first?" Arthur asked.
"If you want to go to your garden I can bring it to you." Alfred suggested, Arthur nodded, quite liking the idea.
"That sounds swell, bring some for yourself." Arthur said, heading towards the gardens entrance. Alfred nodded and walked through the door, hitting his shoulder accidentally against the door frame as he went. Arthur chucked and walked out to the rose garden, picking a blood red rose as he went, twirling it around in his hand.
Alfred found his prince ten minutes later and handed him the plate of pasta, Arthur thanked him and motioned for him to sit down next to him. Alfred slowly sat next to him, looking at the rose Arthur had dropped on the gardens floor. He slowly reached down and picked it up, twirling it around.
"Roses suit you." Alfred said slowly, trying to find the words he wanted to say. Arthur looked over at him.
"What?" Arthur wondered what he meant.
"Roses, they uh... Suit you. You're..." he thought for a moment, "similar." Arthur looked at him questioningly.
"In what ways?" Arthur questioned. Alfred wanted to say 'beautiful' or 'radiant' or 'amazing, sexy' or even 'untouchable' but said:
"Erm, I just mean they suit you well. Certain flowers suit certain people." Arthur nodded, not knowing what he had really meant.
Alfred sneezed, "Scuze me..." he mumbled, wiping his nose.
"Are you sick?" Arthur asked, slightly worried.
"Nah, or I mean, no sir. It's just the-" he sneezed again, "p-pollen..." he sniffled, Arthur looked at him concerned but remained silent.
The rest of the night went normally enough, after dinner and their little discussion Alfred and Arthur headed to bed, both of them tired. Both of them fell asleep with each other in their minds.
~The next morning~
Arthur woke up early again to see Alfred had dragged himself out of bed to try to keep his prince company. He had laughed at the American, he most defiantly was NOT a morning person. At 4 in the morning his chef had brought Arthur breakfast, when he saw Alfred up as well he had rushed off to make more, Arthur had noticed the chef had taken a liking to Alfred. And no, not in a pervy way, the chef used to have a son whom he had treasured, after he died Arthur had offered him a job here at the palace which he had gladly accepted. Arthur thought Alfred reminded him of his son a bit.
He returned a moment later with French toast for the half asleep American. Alfred thanked him and quickly ate it, still looking deprived of sleep. Arthur motioned for him to take a seat next to him and the American obliged happily, glad to be off his feet.
"You know Alfred, you don't have to stay up with me, I'm just used to this." Alfred simply shook his head to this.
"I dun mind." he said tiredly, his eyes drooping shut then snapping back open. Arthur smiled sheepishly at the cute attempt to keep him company. He looked over to Alfred who was sitting next to him, trying to wrap his mind around what Arthur was doing. His eyes slowly dropped and this time they stayed closed. Arthur smiled at the now sleeping Alfred until Alfred's head lolled to one side, his body slumped over and suddenly he was half laying on Arthur. Arthur blushed but smiled at the sleeping American, letting him sleep up against him. Alfred's head was resting on Arthur's shoulder, Arthur felt more accompanied than he had in months.
~A few hours later~
Alfred's eyes slowly opened to see Arthur concentrating intensely on a paper, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Alfred looked up at him and realized that he was laying on him, his arms carelessly thrown around the princes torso. Alfred blushed and quickly sat up, blushing and rubbing his eyes.
"I'm sorry, did I fall asleep?" Alfred asked, trying to make his face lose the blush. Arthur nodded.
"It is no problem, you don't need to worry about getting up early to see me." Alfred nodded, a bit relieved to hear the words.
The rest of the day went amazingly. Alfred cracked 6 jokes, one of which Arthur laughed so hard at he had fallen out of his chair, Alfred catching him just in time. Alfred sneezed twice more, Arthur kept a stern eye on him, concerned he was getting sick even though Alfred insured he wasn't.
The next day Alfred continuously sneezed and coughed, the next he looked like he had lost sleep, the next he had to sit down the entire day rather than stand up and crack jokes, and the next day after that Alfred had quickly excused himself from the room looking terribly pale, Arthur followed after him to find him puking in the bathroom. And finally, 5 days after Alfred's initial promise he wasn't sick, the American was bed ridden. Arthur constantly visited him despite his work, the sick and frail looking boy telling him not to worry and that he was fine, but that was obviously a lie.
Arthur started to despise his work, it kept him from seeing Alfred whom actually needed him. Arthur had an idea to cheer up the American and went to the kitchen, telling his chef to bring Alfred hamburgers for lunch. He was pleased to see the huge grin appear on the pale boys face when Arthur presented him with a platter of the burgers.
~6 days later~
The time was 10:30pm, the moon was shining through the windows as Arthur headed to Alfred's room to say good night. He walked in to see Alfred, leaning over a pail placed next to the large bed. He was coughing violently, a dark liquid dripped down his chin and landed into the pail, which Arthur immediately recognized as blood. Arthur almost dropped the hot chocolate he had brought for the boy as he bolted over to him, patting his back and trying to soothe the shaking and coughing American. A minute later the blood stopped and Alfred slowly crawled back onto the bed and under the sheets, still shaking violently.
"D-Don't worry a-about m-m-me. I'm f-fine." he managed to say with a great amount of difficulty the shivering was so bad. Arthur said nothing, wiping away a bit of blood on the corner of the shivering Americans chin. He looked down at him sadly, taking in the sight of the pale, shaking, and now slightly bloody American. Alfred wrapped the blanket around himself but couldn't find warmth, he wished Arthur would leave so he wouldn't have to see him in such a state.
Arthur said nothing, his brain came up with an idea to keep Alfred warm. He sat on the edge of the bed, scooting closer to the shivering American. Alfred seemed to realize what he was signaling and weakly extended his hands like a toddler reaching for his mother, pulling the warm Brit closer to him. Arthur wrapped his arms around the boy's waist, desperately trying to keep him warm by rubbing his hands up and down Alfred's back. Alfred sunk into the princes arms, loving the warm feeling he emitted. Alfred smiled weakly and closed his eyes.
"D-don't worry, s-sire. I'll be b-back on my f-feet in n-no time." he mumbled, quickly falling asleep in the Brits arms.
Arthur stayed in the bed for two hours, determined to keep the American warm until he could no longer keep his eyes open. He finally crawled away from the sleeping American, laying him down on the soft bed and pulling the fluffy duvet covers up to his chin. He slowly walked back to his room, plopping down on the bed and falling asleep immediately.
~the next day~
Alfred's condition worsened, Arthur grew more and more worried of the outcome of the sickness. Arthur finally called a doctor, out of ideas on how to help his exceedingly sick friend. The doctor arrived at 10:00am, with the entire getup, the white coat the flowed behind them when he walked like he was some oh-so-great god, a stethoscope wrapped around his neck loosely, everything. Arthur directed him to Alfred's room, the doctor told Arthur to wait outside.
Arthur sat outside of the sick boy's room, running his hands through his hair. The doctor came out and he bolted upright, immediately asking what was wrong with the American.
"I can conclude that he has a very rare form of malaria, it causes nausea, fever, headache, pains, cramps, throwing up of blood, hallucinations, nightmares and on a very very rear occasion… death." Arthur paled considerably at the word, death... Would Alfred die?! "But the last one is a worst case scenario. All you can do right now is stay by him, keep him comfortable, and hope for the best."
"Isn't there something you can DO?! Like, TRY to help him?!" Arthur demanded, his fear being lashed out on the doctor.
"You just... Have to hope for the best." he replied sadly, "I'm sorry." the doctor said before turning around and walking away. Arthur entered Alfred's room, looking sadly at the sick boy.
"H-Hey..." Alfred said weakly, Arthur knew he felt like shit and wanted to sob and hug him tightly but did nothing of the sort, instead sitting to the bed spent to him and placing his hand on his forehead, taking his temperature. Alfred blushed a bit at the sudden closeness but didn't object.
"They say you'll get better..." Arthur said, Alfred felt an extreme sense of pity for the obviously sad boy.
"I will, dun worry." Alfred said calmly, Arthur smiled at him slightly. The cute Americans head was lulling to one side, he was falling asleep. Arthur moved closer and allowed the American to rest his head on the Brits shoulder. He fell asleep immediately, loving how close he was to the amazing Brit. Arthur remained where he was for hours, letting the boy sleep. He was finally forced to get up to attend to his work, but silently left with the mental promise to return the sleeping Americans side later that night.
Arthur returned to his study to see an entirely new mountain high pile of paper work. Arthur sighed and took the first dozen, leafing through them all and signing where they needed to be signed. A few hours Arthur stretched his arms, pleased with the fact he had finished all of it. He was on his way to Alfred's room when he ran into his father, the king.
"Father, hel-" he was cut off by the heavy voice.
"And where are you going?" he questioned.
"One of my servants, Alfred F. Jones has fallen ill, I was simply, going to see him and make sure he was alright." the king frowned at the words.
"Someone as important as you should not be worrying about someone like him. I will have none of it! I placed another handful of documents in your study, go see to them immediately." Arthur gave him a sorry look.
"Father, I would be grateful if you just let me check in on hi-"
"Study...now." he growled, Arthur looked up at his horrifying father and quickly walked off to his study, whispering 'bloody annoying git' under his breath. Arthur to this day couldn't figure out why he did all the work and not his father, but he sighed, knowing he would keep his promise to go see the sick American after he finished the paperwork.
Arthur returned to his studies to see Mount Everest placed on his deck.
"THAT TWAT!" Arthur roared, knowing most of the documents were supposed to be signed by the king and not him, but his father was yet again being a lazy ass. Arthur sighed angrily and quickly scrawled his signature on any bare line, not caring if that was the incorrect place to sign, the papers had to literally be at least 4 feet tall, no joke.
Arthur FINALLY finished at 9:00pm at night, he cracked his knuckles and walked quickly and quietly to Alfred's room, making sure to avoid his father.
He opened the door and walked in, ready to see the American. He stopped in his tracks and looked at the American, rather, where the American was supposed to be. The bed was completely empty, no sick American could be found. The sheets were in dis-array, like the American had stumbled out of the sheets.
"Alfred!" he called out, bolting to the empty bed, looking all around, "Alfred, where are you?!" he forced himself to calm down and rationalize the problem. He searched around the room and in the near bathrooms, growling in anger when he realized something, his father. He HAD to be behind this. He stomped to his fathers room, not even bothering to knock as he threw the door open. "Where is he?!" Arthur demanded to know, his father looked up from his bed where he had been engrossed in a book.
"Beg your pardon?" he asked innocently.
"Alfred, where is he?" Arthur demanded.
"You need someone to bring you food and assist when assistance is needed, not another thing to trouble yourself over. I sent him away and got you a new one, she should arrive tomorrow morning."
"I do not want another bloody servant, I want Alfred! He makes my life EASIER!" Arthur shouted, the king looked at him with a murderous expression.
"No." he said simply, not offering another answer.
"Yes! Now tell me where you sent him!" Arthur demanded, his father sighed, knowing the boy would be getting his way.
"Away, that's all I said to him. I walked into his rooms and told him to go AWAY, that he was bothering you. My guess would be the market." the king said, Arthur growled at him but bolted out of the room, sprinting to find Alfred. Alfred was sick! He couldn't walk hardly, never mind take care of himself.
Arthur threw a shawl over himself, hiding his fancy clothing from the public eye. He bolted out of the palace gates, heading towards the market.
~Alfred~
'away?' Alfred's mind replayed the one word as he stumbled along the alleyways of the poorer district of the market. 'Did Arthur really want me gone that badly?' he wondered, a pain in his heart forming. Alfred pressed his back against the cold stone wall, sliding down, his head in his hands. His entire body was in pain, his heart especially. He looked up, the moon shining brightly through the thick grey clouds.
"Lookie lookie, what do we have here?" Alfred looked up to see two large men towering over him, "Did a little street rat wonder into our terf.?" Alfred looked up at them just in time to see a fist swing forward and deck him in the face. Alfred stumbled to his feet, his hand covering his jaw in pain.
"Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to intrude." Alfred mumbled, trying to back away., he was sick and weak, there was no way in hell he could do much. The two didn't seem to care for his apologies, advancing again and kneeing him in the stomach. Alfred coughed and fell to his knees, mentally cursing himself for being sick, on any average day he could have handled them, but with him being sick and almost dying and all- His thoughts were cut off as a foot contacted with his rib cage. Alfred fell back and whimpered, his heart wanting to sob in pain more than his body, 'Arthur wanted me gone' he wanted to sob, feeling another kick.
~Arthur~
The young prince ran through the richest district first, he listened to the steady beat of his shoes hitting the compact dirt as he worked his way down to the poorer districts, looking for only sign of a sick and probably upset teen.
"Alfred!" he would call back every now and then, never receiving an answer. He finally came to the poorest district, his body forced him to stop and heave in the air for a moment. He placed his hands on his knees, gulping in the sweet air before continuing to run at a slower pace for another ten minutes.
He ran along the back ally's, tears almost in his eyes, not having found the American. He rounded one last corner to see two men, one of them punching a blond headed boy, wait...
"Alfred!" he called out, instantly running over and kneeing one of the oafs in the stomach, elbowing the other in the chest. "Scram!" he shouted at them, both ran away in fear of the short, pissed Brit. Arthur himself had had a certain amount of combat training. Alfred had his head hanging, his hand over his chest, coughing in pain. Arthur bolted over to him and knelt down next to him, wrapping his arms around him gingerly. Alfred looked up slowly.
"A-Arthur?" he asked weakly, hardly believing his eyes. Arthur nodded. "I-I thought y-you t-told me t-to l-leave." Alfred mumbled, still not believing his eyes.
"It was my father, Alfred-" he hugged the boy tighter, "I am so, so sorry." Alfred slowly wrapped his arms around the boy, letting tears fall down his cheeks.
"I-I thought y-y-you didn't w-want m-me." he sobbed into the Brits shoulder. Arthur hugged him tightly.
"I would never not want you..." Arthur whispered, rubbing his back, slowly helping the American wobble to his feet. Both boys remained where they were for a moment until Alfred's sobbing subsided. It was obvious that the American couldn't stand on his own, Arthur put a hand under Alfred's arms, helping him walk. They walked slowly, neither of the boys saying anything. Three hours later, around 3 in the morning, the boys wobbled back into Alfred's room, both completely exhausted. Alfred was still exceedingly sick, said American collapsed on the bed, panting slightly. Arthur plopped down beside him, concerned for the sick and wheezing American. "Are you alright?" Arthur asked.
"F-fine, I t-think one of the i-idiots that hit me b-broke one o-or two of my r-ribs." he wheezed, putting a hand weakly to his chest. Arthur looked at him in concern, crawling closer and placing his hand over where a black bruise was forming. Alfred flinched but said nothing, loving the feeling of the Brits hand on his chest.
"They feel broken." Arthur said calmly, "You should get some sleep." Alfred nodded and crawled slowly under the duvet covers. Arthur stood up to leave but felt a hand grab his.
"D-Don't g-go..." he begged quietly, holding weakly onto Arthur's hand. Arthur blushed and let a sheepish smile appear on his face, he sat back on the bed, scooting closer to the injured American and let him lay his head on Arthur's shoulder. Alfred curled up in a ball closer to Arthur, laying his head on the prince's lap. He fell asleep almost immediately to the feeling of Arthur running his hands through his hair.
Arthur stayed up for a while longer, hoping his father wouldn't come in and ruin everything. No. He wouldn't let him. He snuggled closer to Alfred, laying him down on a pillow then lay next to him, looking at the American's face. Returning his hand to the boys injured side, he rubbed it gently. Alfred smiled in his sleep and pressed his nose in the crook of Arthur's neck. Arthur blushed but a small grin slipped onto his face as his eyes closed and he too fell into oblivion.
