A/N: Hello again! If you liked the first chapter and had liked it enough to read this chapter, then thanks a million! It makes me feel good that people actually like something that I am brave enough to post ^^ So, last chapter we kicked of with Arther's POV, and now here's Alfred's intro! Hope it's not too sad for you~
Alfred Jones wiped the sweat from his dirt-dusted brow with the back of his hand, exhaling a ragged breath. He had just finished up his shift at his town's repair shop where he spent long days and even longer nights using his rather amendable skills with tools and metal to fix up odds and ends. Although he was arguablely the most intuitive, skilled mechanic in town, he and his family both were dirt-poor. Seven days a week Alfred, only twenty years old, worked diligently behind drill presses and scroll saws, manufactufacturing weapons and various items for the Rebel officers stationed in his home town. Everynight he'd come home aching exhausted, and covered in dark splotches of motor oil or rust, carrying in a small satchel containing what he had managed to scrounge up for that night's dinner, often unable to buy more than a loaf of bread and a bit of cheese with his meager salary. With a nineteen year old brother and a loving mother at home to care for and feed, their broken family barely scraped by from day to day.
The sun was setting on the feild-laden horizon, splashing the sky with vibrant hues of deep reds and playful oranges as Alfred made his trek home from his twelve hour shift at the shop. With a little while to walk still before his small, dilapidated yet cozy home came into view, he took some time to reminisce. He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't poor, although his mother told him that such a fantasy did in fact exist, at one time. His mother, bless her soul, suffered a missing left leg from a crippling factory explosion when Alfred was eight, rendering her unable to work and support the family. His father... Well he wasn't in the picture anymore, and it pained Alfred to think about him. His younger brother, Matthew, was physically and mentally abused as a young child by cruel school mates, and he had since become shy and distant to near humanly-impossible levels. He too, was rendured unable to work alongside his brother, being deemed 'mentally fragile' by the town's physician. Ever since the war started, they had gone to bed hungry nearly every night, with all of their region's food and supplies going to the front lines, and he couldn't help but hate those closest to the Government, who didn't have to worry about if their little brothers would get fed that night.
His mind was brought back to reality by the site of his home steadily approaching under his legs, dragging him foreward. He smiled softly, patting the half-full satchel hanging off of his shoulder, yearning to deliver his treasure to his hungry family. As he opened the front door and peered inside, he sensed that something wasn't quite right. He stepped into the room, noticing that his mother was seated at the dinner table, her head resting on her folded arms, her breathing slow and shaky. She seemed to be asleep, which was unusual because both her and Mattie would be hovering around the room, anxious to quiet their stomachs with whatever Alfred would bring home. Speaking of Matthew, Alfred glanced around trying to locate him, and discovered him sitting on the raggedy, torn up couch, his head hanging limp, cheeks red and damp, his one rebellious curl drooping sadly. His body was shaking with... Sobs? In his hands he clutched a creased piece of paper.
"M-Mattie? What's wrong?" Alfred inquired, his growing worry creeping it's way into his voice. He quickly walked over to his sobbing brother, tears flowing like melancholy rivers down his flushed cheeks. "Mattie! Mattie tell me, what happened?"
Matthew slowly looked into his brother's eyes, seeing the clearly evident worry mingling with his usual jovial optimism in those sky blue orbs. It made the intense sadness in Matthew's own lavender ones multiply tenfold, and he burst into another fit of violent cries.
"Mattie please... What's got you so upset? You're starting to freak me out..." Alfred said, adding a nervous chuckle.
Matthew then latched on to Alfred's shoulders, pulling him down to sit beside him, finally managing to gaze up at him once more while struggling to maintain his composure. "Y-You... You... You got... D-Drafted... Y-You're gonna... Go fight... Th-They're coming to take you away from us..." he choked, between sobs, collapsing into Alfred's chest in a sorrowful embrace after thrusting the letter at him to read for himself.
Alfred struggled to grasp the reality of Matthew's strangled words, clumsily raising the letter to his face, adjusting his glasses to read it. At the top of the creme colored parchment sat the emblem of the Rebel Military Force, with the words,"To Mr. Alfred F. Jones, authorized Rebel Citizen" below it in an elegant script. However, it was the body of the letter that had Mattie so upset. It read,
Mr. Jones,
It has come to the attention of the Rebel Military that you possess exemplary skills in welding, carpentry, basic mechanics, and advanced technical tequeniques, and you could be utilised on our task force. We request your presence on our team, as a part of your country's cause, and we are doing so in a way you cannot refuse. you have henceforth been drafted into the Rebel military and will have three days to collect your belongings and say your goodbyes before an officer will arrive at your home at 6:00 AM of the third day to collect you. We look foreward to working with you.
Sincerely, General Stephen Heinzig
As Alfred's eyes scanned over the last of the letter, his mind still struggled to grasp just what was going on, what this all meant. He was vaguely aware of Matthew's sobs still reverberating into his chest, and he numbly rubbed his back and stroked his hair, trying to calm his brother while also trying to calm himself. Drafted? Into the Military? How? Why him? What would happen to his family if he left? What would happen to him? How long would he be gone? Would he ever come back home? His head ached with all the endless questions swirling around the inside of his skull, repeating on a never-ending loop. Matthew finally pulled back, sniffling and wiping his eyes with his fists as he heard his mother stir from her most likely sorrow-filled slumber, realizing her eldest had returned home. Her eyes too, were red and puffy, tear-stained cheeks flush and pink.
"Mom..." Alfred whispered, rising from the couch and walking to her.
"Oh Alfie... Come here baby..." His mother sobbed, rushing over to him and wrapping him in an incredibly tight embrace, crying into his strong shoulder. So it was really happening... It wasn't all just a terrible dream that he could just shake himself out of, snap awake and be lying next to his brother, sleeping peacefully, not a care in the world... As much as he had hoped he could just blink his eyes and be rid of this sudden horror, he knew he never could... He was going off to war.
A/N: Dun, Dun, DUUUUUUN! Poor Alfie, and poor Mattie too! It was saddening to write, but it had to be done. next chapter hopefully Arther and Alfred will finally meet! And if not next chapter, then definitely the one after ;P As always, reviews would be appreciated :3
