Alfred slammed his head back in frustration, hitting it hard on the wooden pole he was tied to. He groaned. "Fucking Brits." He struggled with the rope around his wrists. "At least bring me some water!" He yelled towards the opening of the tent. "You're not the only ones at war…"

The tent flap opened and Arthur walked in. "You're making quite the ruckus Jones."

Alfred's lip lifted up in anger as he glared at the lieutenant. "I'm fucking starving here, thats why."

Arthur nodded. "Of course you are." Turning around he opened the flap and yelled out the opening. "Bring me my lunch! I'll be dining with the guest tonight." He added turning around to face Alfred. He grabbed a chair and pulled it in front of the kneeling soldier. "So, Alfred. How long have you been a rebel?"

"Ever since you started this goddamn war."

Arthur chuckled. "I don't believe we are the ones to blame for the battle."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna start this with you." Arthur raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Both of us believe our side's story so talkin'' about it makes no sense right now."

Arthur nodded. "Now if only the rest of the men could think like you Alfred."

Alfred's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

Arthur shrugged and crossed his legs. "Well, I dislike war as much as the next man, Jones. In fact, I hate war. Do you think I like sending letters home to the women and men back home, telling them of their husband's or child's death?"

Alfred swallowed. "Well I-."

The flap whipped open, cutting Alfred off. A man walked in carrying a tray, topped with some wrapped food and a glass. Arthur smiled at the man and took the tray, setting it on his lap. "Thank you."

The man nodded. "Sir."

After the man had left Arthur unwrapped the food, exposing a small bowl of soup and a few biscuits. Alfred was in awe. "Where the hell do you get this stuff?"

Arthur looked down at the American. "It's just broth and a few scones. They're not good ones but they'll do for war." Arthur sighed. "If my men cannot eat like kings at war, then neither will I." Alfred, once again, was caught off guard at the Brit's kindness. Arthur chuckled, taking note of Alfred's expression. "Amazing yes? We Brits are also humans."

Alfred narrowed his eyes. "I didn't say you weren't-."

Arthur shook his head, stirring the soup. "No of course you didn't. You all just think it. And my men think the same of you." He smirked down at the American. "War turns men into monsters that believe anything, my boy." After stirring the soup, Arthur set the tray in front of Alfred.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "I can't eat with my hands tied."

Arthur nodded. "I know, but I am not stupid enough to untie you-."

"But you're stupid enough to light a fire at night."

Arthur scowled at Alfred. "Would you like to eat, Jones?" Alfred smirked, but nodded. Arthur sighed. "Then, behave."

Alfred snickered. "So what, are you gonna feed me?"

"I don't see any other way around it. Unless you'll behave enough for me to untie you." The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Alfred's blue eyes burned into Arthur's, silently demanding him to surrender. Arthur chuckled. "I guess not." Picking up the bowl he dumped the broth in, filling half of the glass.

"Aw come on, this is humiliating. Can't you just untie one of my hands?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. Now open up." Alfred sighed but complied, opening his mouth and allowing Arthur to tip the glass in between his lips. The broth was lukewarm and the taste was almost unbearable, but it was food and Alfred was grateful they were even feeding him. The American downed the glass in one gulp, shocking Arthur. He chuckled. "I wonder what you're like drinking."

For the first time Alfred let a sincere smile grace his lips. "Probably better at holding my liquor than you, limey."

Arthur rolled his eyes and grabbed a scone. "How old are you Jones?"

Alfred took a bite of the scone that was brought to his lips and contemplated lying as he chewed. He shrugged, what the hell was he going to do with his age? "M' nineteen." He said, mouth still full of scone.

"I never would have guessed." His answer dripping with sarcasm. Arthur stood up after the meal was finished and wiped his hands on his pants.

"What about you Lieutenant?"

Arthur looked down at the boy, surprised. "What?"

Rolling his eyes, Alfred did his best mock British accent. "Well? Where are you manners?"

Arthur sighed. "I am twenty-four."

Alfred eyes widened. "Holy shit, that's young!"

"Young?"

Alfred nodded. "Well yeah, for a Lieutenant."

Arthur shrugged. "Well I don't think-."

Bang.

Arthur screamed and fell onto the floor, gripping his side. Alfred's head snapped to the side. A small hole had been torn into the side of the tent. "What the-?"

Loud shouts and screams became immensely loud outside the tent. Gun shots and running footsteps echoes around them. Alfred struggled against his ropes attempting to break free. Looking back at Arthur who was still moaning on the floor, Alfred rocked back and forth, wiggling the large steak out of the ground and freeing his arms. He fell onto his stomach as more bullets zipped over his head through the tent walls.

"Hey! Arthur!"

The Brits eyes snapped open, filled with fear. They finally fell on Alfred and quickly were absorbed in rage. Leaping up he tackled the American, pinning him down under his knees. "You shot me!" He screamed.

Alfred brought his shoulder up, slamming into Arthur's jaw and break free from the Brit's hold. "I didn't shoot you! You're being ambushed you bastard!"

Arthur looked around and quickly got off the ground, still clutching his side. "Shit!" Looking back at Alfred who was still bound by the wrists on his knees he growled. Kneeling down he looked into the boys blue eyes. His chest tightened and his stomach flipped. With a swift movement of his arm, Arthur had pulled out his knife and cut Alfred's restraints. "Get out."

Alfred drew his eyebrows together in suspicion. "You're just going to let me go?"

Both men jumped back as a bullet flew in between them. Arthur growled and pulled a small gun out of a holster on his hip. "Leave before I change my mind. I have more important men to tend to than you now."

Alfred hesitated, but soon ran out of the tent into a full blown battle. Bodies were scattered across the dirt from both sides. He bit his lip and began dodging through the men.

"Alfred!"

The American stopped suddenly and snapped his head to the side, following his name. It was Matthew. Alfred smiled. The other man ran up to Alfred and smiled. "Let's postpone the greetings. We gotta get the hell out of here."

Nodding, Alfred began running towards the woods, following the other Americans and grabbing an abandoned gun from off the ground. Glancing back at the camp before he reached the trees, he caught sight of a blond redcoat, staring at him from the front of the camp ground, clutching his side. The man narrowed his eyes and scowled at Alfred. Alfred chuckled and saluted him before running off. "Till next time Kirkland!" The American snickered and glanced down at the rifle in his hand, immediately stopping, noticing the bayonet on the end of the gun. Turning it in his hands he groaned as a small gold word on the butt of the gun caught his eye. "Kirkland..." He shook his head, reading the name over and over in his head. "Well shit."

Arthur stared at the woods shaking his head. He had watched the American run off into the trees with the gold rimmed rifle. "Bloody wanker." He mumbled. "That was my favorite gun..."