Chapter Three

I See the Light

The carrot incident was a declaration of war (Alfred had conveniently forgotten that he started it), and so from then on, whenever the two princes met, it was a bloodbath.

Not of actual blood, of course, but more of ridiculous pranks to slow each other down or divert them from their paths.

It was actually rather unbelievable how often the two princes met on their journey. It was every day – often more than once. One might almost think that they weren't really trying very hard to slow the other down and get rid of them, what with the way their pranks let them catch up to each other so often. And when one had managed to thwart the other's journey for a few hours they didn't exactly race ahead to leave them far behind – just carried on as normal, and gave the other plenty of time to reach them again. And neither of them was really attempting to find a different route to be able to avoid the other prince entirely.

Not that they hadn't tried. Both Alfred and Arthur had attempted to race ahead, or reroute and find a new way to the princess' tower, so they could avoid each other and put an end to this ridiculous feud. It was actually the horses' fault.

No matter how hard Alfred tried, begged, urged, raged or bribed, Hero was not changing his course. He was going to keep going this way, the same way as Arthur, and there was nothing Alfred could do to stop him. And he was not going to gallop when they left Arthur and his stallion behind after some successful prank – he would trot painfully slowly until the two English travellers caught up with them. It was only when Arthur was the one leaving them behind that Hero would gallop on again, to catch up.

Sure, Hero had always been as stubborn as his rider, but he was a good stallion, obedient and loyal – so why all of a sudden he refused to listen, was beyond Alfred entirely. He'd just had to get used to it over the past few weeks.

Maybe it was just being away from home for so long, Alfred thought. Out in the wide world, on a proper quest, without his nice stable and attendants and luxuries: perhaps it had put Hero out of sorts. Obviously, he didn't care as much about going on a quest as Alfred did. It saddened the American prince a little, because he'd always thought Hero would be the perfect noble steed for the job. But Hero was still the same old stallion whenever Arthur wasn't around – cuddling up to Alfred at night, playing with him when they had breaks, gorging on whatever food Alfred could scrounge up for him. So whatever Hero's problem was, it was mostly due to Arthur – because Hero would only act oddly when that stupid English guy and his horse were around. And that was just another cross to add next to Arthur's name.

It's worth pointing out that Alfred could be very oblivious sometimes. This was something everyone in the Kingdom of America knew (except for him).

So later that day, when Arthur and Alfred inevitably met again on the road, and Hero and Arthur's smoky stallion whinnied happily and trotted closer together, Alfred just started arguing with his self-imposed rival and didn't even notice.

He didn't even register the resistance Hero put up when Alfred tired to drag him away from the English stallion.

He only started wondering what was going on when Hero trotted purposefully over to the grassy verge of the path, plucked some flowers with his teeth, and practically skipped back to the English stallion. Somewhere during the arguing and Hero's strange behaviour, Alfred realised that Arthur's horse had done the same, and now both stallions were standing there nudging each other's noses with flowers bunched in their mouths, almost like…

"Uhh…" Alfred shifted awkwardly in the saddle, blushing and trying to pull Hero away from the other stallion.

"W-Wistful!" he heard Arthur exclaim, and Alfred could tell from the embarrassed stutter that he, too, must be blushing. "Come back here. Stop this nonsense."

"Hero, come on boy. Let's get going and leave these dorks behind."

"Dorks?! Excuse me, but I seem to recall hearing that you're the one who asked if you could play musical chairs at Prince Roderich's last ball."

The horses rolled their eyes, ready for another round of the prank war.

"Just because nobody else knows how to have any fun! I bet you don't even know the meaning of the word, you snobby, stuck-up, pompous…uh…git face!"

"Hey! That's my insult! And you want 'fun?' I'll show you fun."

And with that, Arthur stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. It was so piercing that Alfred had to let go of the reins and slap his hands over his ears. And as he did so, Arthur took his opportunity and smack Hero on the hindquarters.

He hated resorting to using the American prince's stallion like this, but all he wanted was for the white horse to dash forward a few yards and for Alfred, having let go of the reins, to lose control and fall backwards onto the ground. Then Arthur would laugh and canter off, leaving the American prince in the dust.

But Hero had his own ideas. He saw his opportunity and took it – with wild abandon.

Instead of being mildly startled at the slap and darting forwards a little, he took off in mock terror – galloping down the path, ignoring the curve ahead and crashing headlong into the trees once again.

Alfred grasped wildly at Hero's mane for support, scrabbling with one hand to find the reins again, and at the same time trying clenching his eyes shut to avoid the branches smacking into his face as his horse raced recklessly through the woods.

"Hero! HERO, you idiot! STOP!"

Hero did.

But only because they'd reached the edge of a wide, rushing river. Hero's front hooves met thin air, but he managed to pull himself back before falling head-first into the racing water.

Alfred opened his eyes, feeling Hero judder to a halt, and gulped at the sight before him. "Woah, woah, Hero! Easy boy!"

The white stallion teetered on the edge of the small cliff, but Alfred shouldn't have had much trouble pulling him back onto level ground.

Except that Hero had had enough.

With a wag of his tail and a rebellious neigh, he leapt into the air, legs spread-eagled ridiculously, and out into the fast-flowing river.

"HERO!"

Alfred suddenly found himself plunged underwater. Under extremely cold, mountain water. It filled his lungs and slowed his limbs down as he tried to flail them in panic, and washed over his eyes so all he could see was blue and bubbles.

He didn't know what would have happened – but he was a hero, so it would probably have been fine. So he didn't really need that hand grabbing at his collar and dragging him to shore. And he certainly didn't need Hero, that traitor, nuzzling at his face as he lay pathetically in the dirt of the river bank.

And he really, really didn't need it being that posh English accent asking him: "Are you…okay, Your Royal Highness? …Alfred?"

Alfred coughed up some more river water and rubbed his eyes before sitting up slowly.

"Fine," he grumbled.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm…I'm so sorry, Your Highness. I didn't intend for that to happen. I mean, I shouldn't have done that in the first place. Are you alright?"

"You already asked that. Yes, I'm alright. And no, you shouldn't have done that."

"Honestly, I didn't mean for it to go that far. I didn't realise your horse would be so startled by a little slap."

"Yeah, neither did I," Alfred said, frowning over to where his horse was huddled close to Arthur's stallion. Hero had the good sense to bow his head in shame at Alfred's glare.

"If I can do anything to make it up to you…"

Alfred swept his hand through his hair and finally looked over at the English prince.

Arthur was kneeling beside him, twisting his hands anxiously and eyebrows drawn up in worry. His beautiful white coat was dripping and dirty, and his scruffy hair clung to his face, framing it in a way that almost made him…less annoying, somehow.

It made Alfred feel a little bit bad for being so grumpy. Arthur had just rescued him from the river. Not saved his life – definitely not, because Alfred could have gotten out on his own. But, it was useless to deny: Arthur had helped him get out of the river.

"I…uh…Thanks for helping me out there."

Arthur stared, shocked at the kind words, it seemed. "I-it's perfectly alright!" he gushed, jumping to his feet as Alfred stood up slowly, brushing the dirt and clinging water off his cape. "It was my fault, after all."

"Yeah, it certainly looks that way," Alfred said, shooting another meaningful look at Hero. He wasn't so sure his horse hadn't planned that all completely on purpose, now. (Proving once and for all that his obliviousness could be cured with a quick dump in cold water.)

"But you must let me make it up to you," Arthur went on. "All your things…"

Alfred looked at the English prince, confused – then he realised that Arthur was referring to all his belongings. He looked over at Hero, and saw the missing saddlebags. His shoulders slumped. How was he supposed to carry on his quest with no food, no camping equipment, no extra clothes, no nothing.

Luckily, the horses weren't so dense.

Hero snuck up behind his owner, nosing his shoulder and nudging him forward towards the English prince.

Alfred looked at Arthur, and found himself blushing with nerves and scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He hated having to ask such a huge favour and be so dependent on the pompous Englishman. "Uh…well, do you think maybe…seeing as I've lost all my stuff because of you …maybe I could…I dunno…travel with you?"

Arthur looked like he was about to refuse. In all honesty, Alfred couldn't really blame him – the American prince had been making his life a living hell for a solid month so it was no wonder he didn't want him around.

But then Arthur's stallion was nosing him in the back, pushing him towards Alfred and being very obvious about it all the while.

"I…I suppose," Arthur agreed, reluctantly. "I mean, of course. It was my fault after all."

Alfred looked up in surprise at Arthur's gentle tone of voice. He sounded genuinely sorry, and hopeful that he could help Alfred get back on his quest.

They looked at each other for a few moments.

Perhaps having a rival on his journey wasn't what Alfred needed, at all. Looking at Arthur now, as the sun peeked through the clouds to dry their clothes and warm them up, he suddenly envisioned travelling with a companion: fighting monsters and overcoming obstacles as a team, looking out for each other and enjoying the good times together.

He'd spent all those years stuck in his kingdom's palace, and, truth be told, he didn't have many close friends. Now here was an opportunity standing right before him. He'd never really thought of sharing his grand adventure before, but now, seeing Arthur in front of him, it seemed like it might really work.

"Although," the English prince said, looking away uncomfortably from Alfred's gaze. "You could train your horse to be a little less paranoid."

It might work. But then again, maybe not…