"Artie! Artie!" Alfred thundered towards the small farmhouse Arthur and he had been living in for the past two week. Shakespeare skidded to a halt and the excited soldier flew off. He sprinted to where his lover was sitting, working in his journal, and picked him up, squeezing him in a warm embrace,"The war's over Artie! We're not just colonists anymore" he wrapped any American flag around the Brit, "we're Americans," his blue eyes twinkled in a way that made Arthur's heart flutter, but he couldn't feel the joy that was in those eyes,
"That's, uh, great Alfie! Really! I'm glad that no one else needs to die to end the war," he look away from the sapphire eyes that were now filled with confusion,
"Hey are you okay?" Alfred cupped Arthur's chin and turned his face so he could look into the peridot eyes that never failed to make is heart melt, "You can tell me anything. Don't forget that,"
"It's just, I've-I've never lived in another country before. It's gonna be hard to see a new flag flying," a tear slipped out of his eyes, and Alfred cursed himself for not seeing how homesick his lover had become. He kissed away the tear and tightened his grip on the Loyalist, who, in turn, buried his head in the Rebel's chest. After standing there for a minute or two, an idea struck the blue-eyed American, but he had to hurry,
"I... Forgot something! I'll be right back," he kissed Arthur's forehead, " I love you, so much," he spun on his heel, sprinted over to his grey stallion, launched on to is back, and galloped back towards town.
Shakespeare pinned his ears and bopped his head nervously, feeling the malicious atmosphere surrounding the small town they were now in sight of. Thankfully, the clock tower hadn't tolled noon yet. A pile of of British flags, uniforms, and even corpses lay in the town's central. Men milled around with flaming torches, waiting for he clock to toll. Alfred knew that he had to hurry. Setting his sights on a smaller flag lying on top, he charged forward, crashed through a couple people, but made it to the pile safely. At first, the crowd was confused, but as soon as he snagged the flag, he was an enemy. As hard as he tried to protect his rider, Shakespeare had him torn from the saddle. Screaming and firing kicks at the men pinning Alfred down and beating, the war horse was trying to save his master, but stood no chance against the flames threatening his flying mane and tail,
"Shakespeare!" Alfred screamed, "HELP!" The horse hated that command, because it meant leaving his best friend to fight for himself. Neighing sorrowfully, he spun around on his back legs and shot out of town and towards home, where he knew he could find help, "good boy" Alfred coughed and saw blood splatter on the ground, "shit" he looked up through the blood clouding his vision, and saw the barrel of a pistol pointed at his chest,
"Burn in hell, British scum," the gun-bearer sneered. Alfred closed his eyes and thought of Arthur, and how he would tear apart the very heart he had healed. A gun shot rang out, echoing through the buildings. He opened his eyes. He knew that shot all too well, and it wasn't from a pistol,
"Step away from my soldier, or I'll blow a hole through your head," the crowd cleared away and Captain Williams marched his black mare towards the bruised and beaten American, his custom-made musket still pointed to the sky, "how many times am I going to have to save your sorry ass before you gain a brain?"
"Hey chief. Thanks again. Could you help me up? I gotta get home," Alfred coughed up more blood. Williams sighed and jumped off of his horse,
"Where's your pathetic excuse for a war horse?" he saw the Union Jack clutched in Alfred's hand, "was that flag really worth it?"
" I don't know about a 'pathetic excuses for a war horse', but Shakespeare went to get help, and yes, it was worth it," instead of helping him up, the captain dragged hm over to where his horse was waiting, shoved him in front of the saddle, and mounted behind him,
"which way's your house?" Alfred pointed to the trail he had taken into town. Williams cantered his black warhorse to the trail,
" Don't tell my lover about the flag 'kay? He'll be furious," the American asked quietly. The soldier behind him said nothing.
The two practically crashed into Arthur half way down the trail. He was riding Shakespeare, and was flying towards town. When he saw Alfred's beaten and bleeding form, he screeched to a halt and stared at his lover, tears rolling down his face,
"Alfred," he squeaked. Captain Williams didn't stop his horse,
"Go home and get a bed ready, Alfred's hurt badly," the Brit nodded stiffly and thundered home, "how did you get such a beautiful Englishman to love you?"
Alfred smiled, "I never gave up on his broken heart. He lost everything because of hat damned war, and I helped him gain back as much as possible,"
"You're such a romantic" Alfred chucked, which caused him to start coughing again, "Dammit Alfred! Use some sense next time you want to make enemies!"
Once the two reached the farmhouse, Captain Williams carried Alfred into the house and lay him on the bad he shared with Arthur,
"Thank you..."
"Williams," he turned to the Brit, "John Williams. I was Alfreds commander while he was still in the army," he glanced down at Alfred, "where's your well? I'll go get some water,"
Arthur pointed to a door lead outside, and John left through it,
"Alfred, w-what happened?" him sat on the bed next to his lover and rested his on his chest, "does this hurt you?'
"No. It's mostly my face and knee. Uh... Shakespeare slipped in some mud and I flew into a tree," Alfred wrapped his arms around the Brit,
"Ah," The Loyalist replied, and the Rebel could tell that his lie was seen through. He sighed and stroked his lovers straw-colored hair. John slammed the door, carrying a sloshing bucket of water and a clean rag. Arthur sat up so Alfred could properly be taken care of, and his lover saw tears streaming down his face that he hadn't realized were falling while they had been lying there. Jon saw them too,
"what the Hell are you crying for boy?!" he snarled, "Alfred isn't dead! Pull yourself together! Some soldier you must have been!"
"DON'T EVER SPEAK TO MY LOVER THAT WAY!" the injured American shot forward, bu cringed in pain when he finished shouting, blood trickling from his mouth,
"Arthur, hold him down. He's probably broken a couple ribs," Arthur pulled his still angry lover back to lean on his shoulder. John soaked the rag with water and cleaned off his soldiers face. He then gave Alfred some water to rinse out his mouth and inspected his chest and knee. By the time all of the injuries were clean, the water was dyed pink, "Could you get some bandage for me?" he asked. Arthur dashed out of the room. As soon as he was out of ear-shot, Alfred turned to his commander,
"I'm sorry I snapped at you," he mumbled,
"I deserved it. He had the right to be overwhelmed by what happened, by the way," Captain Williams pulled the British flag from his jacket, "what do you plan to do with this?"
"I have a plan, but I need your help, and Artie can't know."