AN:/ WARNING. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS CHARACTER DEATH. Okay, you can continue now. :3
Chapter 4: Until The Day I Die
After returning safely back to the real world, and his body, Alfred cleared all other medical tests and was discharged from the hospital two days later. As he was promised, Matthew came and visited every day and even came to pick up Alfred when he was discharged. The two brothers were close, but not tight, if that made any sense. Matthew felt cold and lonely living in Alfred's shadow all the time. He had brought the world so many great things, like basketball and insulin. Meanwhile, Alfred mooched off everybody like a bloodsucking leech and somehow ended up as the world power he is today.
Matthew often found himself wondering the keys to Alfred's success. Most others would think it was Alfred's trading and such, but Matthew knew better. The Canadian knew the real reason Alfred became such a strong, prideful, powerful nation. It was Alfred's older brother, Connor. The eldest of the three was the shortest. He didn't say much but when he did, he was quite wise and seemed to know a little bit of everything in his time. Connor had nice navy blue eyes and rounded glasses. He had dark blond hair cut in a style similar to Alfred and even had a cowlick, but on the opposite side of Alfred's. Matthew remembered how silently strong Connor was, and he only talked when necessary.
And if memory served Matthew, Connor had seceded from Alfred in 1861 due to political reasons. Nowadays everyone thought the South seceded because of slavery issues. And while this was one of the factors, Connor left Alfred mostly because of politics. The two older brothers had often bickered and quarreled until one day, Connor decided he was done arguing and just left without prior notice. During the Battle of Gettysburg, Connor had been murdered by Alfred and for weeks after, Matthew had to help Alfred through the shock he had caused himself. Alfred had been a nervous wreck for weeks.
Although Matthew had been upset with Alfred at the time for killing their older brother, he kept his mouth shut about it. Alfred had a tendency to forget who Matthew was, while Connor always remembered him and treated him fair; the Confederacy had always been able to tell the difference between Matthew and Alfred, and Matthew appreciated that. And although every once in a while, he'd get Connor and Alfred confused if only casting a quick glance, Connor wouldn't get frustrated while Alfred became rather irritated. Even now as the Canadian was driving his American brother home, he found himself missing Connor and wondering where he was now. "Hey, Alfred, you know your boss is having a Thanksgiving Feast is tonight, right?"
"Not interested…" Alfred waved his hand dismissively, staring out the passenger window. Matthew nearly hit his head on the back of his seat. What?! Alfred loved feasts! Especially Thanksgiving feasts!
"A-are you sure? You need to get some social interaction, Alfred. You're starting to shut yourself off from the world and it's worrying me. Tell me what's wrong…" Matthew pleaded, focusing on the road.
"I don't want to talk about it. I'm thinking."
"Alfred…" Matthew cast a quick but sorrowful glance at his brother. "Please try not to think too hard, eh? Every time you've been thinking hard recently, you pass out; at least that what Arthur said to Papa and I."
"I don't want anybody else involved, Mattie. So just…keep this to yourself, okay? Whatever Iggy told you, just keep it to yourself," Alfred sighed.
"O-okay…" Matthew frowned as he pulled into Alfred's driveway.
"Hey Mattie, stay the night over. It's late," Alfred staggered out of his seat and nearly face planted onto the pavement.
"Alfred…it's only four in the afternoon…" Matthew blinked after checking his watch.
"No it's not! Don't you see the moon and the stars?!" Alfred wailed, pointing at the sun and sky. When Matthew shook his head no, Alfred snarled and simply yanked the keys out of the car and stomped into his house.
"Hey! You hoser get back here!" Matthew jumped out of his car and bolted after Alfred.
"Ha! If you want them, come get them you maple sucker!" Alfred taunted, jangling the keys before darting into his house, sounding drunk.
"I wonder if they accidently sucked out more of his brain instead of the actual fluids…" Matthew face palmed and stalked off to find his brother. He wandered into the living room, looking around quietly and stopping at the fireplace mantel. A row of wooden toy soldiers were set up across the top of the mantel, a painting of golden wheat fields mounted on the wall behind it. Matthew looked further down the mantel and saw a black framed picture with the glass covered over in a thick layer of dust. He picked it up diligently, and wiped the dust off with his jacket sleeve. It was one of those fancy new digital slideshow picture frames.
Matthew smiled a bit when he saw their family at Lake Ontario a few summers ago. The next picture was of Alfred and Arthur at a Disneyworld. The next few pictures were mostly of Alfred and his fellow nations hanging out at various places. The slideshow ended with a picture of all the nations at Alfred's New Year's party from this year. And after that, it started from what Matthew presumed to be the beginning. Matthew couldn't help but give a gentle smile as he watched Alfred grow up from the time pictures were first digitalized but then when it cycled back to the Lake Ontario family trip picture, things started getting creepy. The pictures seemed to take a turn for the darker. They turned bloodier and bloodier with every passing picture, even though Matthew had just seen them earlier. Yet somehow, the Canadian was unable to put the thing down, staring wide eyed at the horrors in the little picture frame. It was only when the slideshow reached the New Year's picture that everyone was pretty much skeletons and zombies with clothes on, but that wasn't what made Matthew scream in sheer terror.
No. What made him unleash a blood curling scream was when a bloodied, rotten skull floated out of the frame and chant to Matthew a French curse about death. The frame slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor. Matthew turned to flee, tripping over one of Alfred's potted plants. He flipped himself around to see if anything was following him, screaming again when it looked like Death was unfurling his long bony fingers, reaching for Matthew. The Canadian began screeching in French and English, squeezing his eyes shut waiting to be pulled under, but it never came. Instead Alfred was standing behind him, helping him up.
"Dude, what's with all the noise? With all the screaming you were doing anyone would think you were dying. All you did was drop my picture frame and knock over my plant." Alfred simply walked over and picked up his picture frame, then propping it back on the mantel next to his toy soldiers. "And if there were something paranormal going on around here, then my cats would totally be all over it. They're fine though." Alfred motioned to his pets.
The grey tabby was staring at Matthew in an irritated way, obviously haven been woken from his nap. Meanwhile, Alfred's white and black cat was busy trying to jump back up onto the couch, having been scared the hell out of when Matthew screamed. Matthew cast the tabby an apologetic glance, "Sorry Liberty."
"Liberty?" Alfred echoed.
"Yeah. That is your cat's name, isn't it?" Matthew questioned.
"Oh…r-right, of course it is!" Alfred agreed quickly.
"Now that I think about it, he's lived quite a long time, huh?" Matthew sat next to the cat, helping Freedom onto the couch. "I'm surprised. He used to be Connor's cat. All we nations have cats that supposedly represent us. So if Connor has long since been dead…shouldn't Liberty be gone by now too?"
Alfred wasn't paying attention. Memories and sudden realization slammed into Alfred like a freight train. That angel of death is no 'Liberty'. He's my brother… Connor… Alfred felt a new wave of guilt wash over him at the news flash. I can't believe I was stupid to never realize that! Oh my god he… I'm responsible for his current state… If only I had let him just have that stupid Fort Sumter and we could've prevented that whole war and he'd still be alive and oh my god this is my entire fault. Connor…
"Alfred…?" Matthew called his name gently. "Don't think too hard. I'm sorry I brought that up. I shouldn't have said anything…"
"Oh, no, it's not a problem at all! Actually…I think you just helped me out a lot. Thanks bro." Alfred hugged his little brother tightly.
"Uhm…you're welcome. I guess..." Matthew blinked.
A few days after Matthew's visit, Alfred somehow found himself back in the parallel universe of tacky flooring. He still never got a proper name for this place. So 'The Parallel Universe of Tacky Flooring' would just have to do for now. Upon arrival, Alfred instantly noticed he had wolf-like ears matching his hair colour sprouting from atop his head, and a fluffy wolf tail the same colour as well. So Connor hadn't lied, it really was a potion that would turn him into a werewolf spiritually. Not stopping for second thoughts, Alfred ran down the hallway towards the dining room. He stopped at the door to make himself a little more presentable and straightened his hair out, fixing his clothes a smidge too.
Alfred swung the grand door to the massive dining room open and was appalled by what he saw. There were even more demonic creatures from hell in here, and nobody turned to stare at Alfred when he burst into the room. He stood in the doorway awkwardly, the door shutting behind him with a loud bang. It was his look-a-like who looked up first. "Well if it isn't the innocent version of me! What's up other me?!"
Alfred watched Connor choke on his drink, managing to spit some up onto the table in front of him. Oliver smacked his head, shouting how that was rude to choke on such a fine drink. Connor wiped the liquid from his face and stared at the table, "How nice of you to join us, Alfred. We were right in the middle of reevaluating how we run the manor."
"Ah," Alfred nodded and strode over to take a seat next to Connor, "So Liberty, what has been discussed so far?" The American put an emphasis on the fake name.
"The conversation hasn't gotten very far. We've actually been bickering over what to have for dinner, werewolf," a girl sneered, long canines telling Alfred she was a vampire. "By the way, I hate how you Americans portray my kind. We don't sparkle, for one and-"
"Put a sock in it." Somebody interrupted from the opposite side of the table and the room broke into chuckles. The supposed meeting went on like this for a while before an older, scruffier werewolf felt Alfred was challenging him and sprang at the American. Alfred was horrified; he didn't know what to do. Simply willing himself to change into a werewolf wasn't working and he nearly screeched when the other werewolf was slashing at his chest. Alfred wailed in defeat, somehow controlling his tail to tuck under and touch his belly. The other werewolf noticed this and simply stepped back after a final slash, holding his tail and ears higher.
"You could've killed him, you mangy mutt!" Connor spat and Alfred scooted away timidly when his brother slammed the attacking werewolf into the wall. "You don't kill others unless the order is given. Or have you forgotten how things run around here, omega?"
Alfred stared at the massive man with wolf ears and a tail. If he had that much muscle and brawn for only an omega werewolf, Alfred didn't want to know what an alpha would be like. He hadn't realized just much authority his brother held in this place until the offending werewolf was cowering like a newborn puppy. For the first time, he noticed the fear stricken expressions of almost everybody else present as the dark angel loomed over the wolf. Connor watched the wolf scoot submissively back to his seat before going to Alfred an examining the injuries. They weren't deep by any means, and the slashes had simply left shallow cuts. Alfred gave a small squeak of protest when Connor picked him up and left the room silently.
Alfred's older brother walked in silence, staring dead ahead as he carried Alfred to a small but tidy bedroom. He gently laid Alfred on the bed and walked over to the cabinet mounted on the wall and whipped out some medical supplies. Alfred just rested on his back silently as his brother dressed his wounds. It was a bit awkward now, since Alfred realized they were brothers. "…Connor?" Alfred spoke the name tentatively.
For a while the angel was silent as he continued his work before finally croaking out a simple, "Yes, Alfred?"
Alfred didn't know what he planned to say after that. He mostly just wanted to know if he was right in declaring his brother the angel. Connor finished bandaging Alfred's wounds and returned the supplies back to their homes. When the older turned around, he was pulled into a crushing embrace by Alfred, "I'm so sorry that you're like this." The younger brother whimpered, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.
Connor shrugged his little brother off and stepped back. He watched Alfred's eyes flood in a mixture of emotions, but the older mostly saw rejection and despair swimming around. Alfred was sitting on his knees, his hands in front of him. Alfred's tears rolled down his cheeks, and he gave Connor a pleading look that screamed he was begging for forgiveness.
"I'm not ready to forgive you, Alfred…" Connor shook his head and turned his head away from Alfred. Alfred practically let out a quiet wail and hung his head in shame.
"Tell me why!" Alfred screeched suddenly, jerking his head up to glare at Connor, tears flowing freely now.
"'Why'? I'll tell you 'why'. We're blood brothers, for starters. We've been together since before colonial times! Or have you forgotten Mama and the Lakota tribe? Have you let them become a rotten memory too?" Connor growled.
"No! I could never forget Mama or Papa!" Alfred wailed.
"Then how could you forget your brothers!? Aren't we important to you anymore? It took you how long to realize who I was, and you can barely remember Matthew even exists, let alone even his name! Don't lie Alfred, you've forgotten all about Mama and the tribe." Connor snapped, and for the first time in a while, Alfred was speechless. Nothing was going on in his cranium, his thoughts completely blank. He could only sit there and listen to everything his brother was dishing out.
"We were separated when Antonio came and conquered your southern neighbour and I lived with him and Pablo for a long time. Meanwhile you're busy being colonized and whatever by Arthur and we never saw face to face until you decided you needed my help in about 1762. But you only saw me because Francis and Antonio were playing the swapping game with me when I represented the land of the Louisiana Purchase. You knew where I lived and my address up until the swapping took place but you never wrote and you never visited and don't give me crap about Arthur's rules because I know all about them. Either way, you wanted away from Arthur and his British Empire and I remember fighting side by side with you in the battle that eventually won your independence.
"Afterwards I went back home to Francis and Antonio, and you never spoke to me again. Until you decided you wanted Francis out of our Native American lands and told him off in 1808. We then started living together and catching up and all was peacefully for a while. I decided the present day Dakota's were too cold for my liking and moved down south to Alabama. Then the year 1848 rolls around and you have your stinking Californian Gold Rush. Do you realize how mortified Mama was with this? We watched you and your people kill our Native people just for some stupid gold! How could you just kill your own people as if you'd suddenly cut all ties with them?! Mama was devastated and she fled to present day Canada with other Native Americans. Matthew was so happy when his mother came to see him but you know what ended up happening? Mama died because of European diseases brought over to the 'New World'. You didn't show any grief or misery and that crushed Matthew and I. How could you be so insensible?!
"And that's what started it all. After that we bickered and bickered and fought over the smallest things. And eventually, I just got tired of your complete and utter bullshit and left. With the way your damned government was set up, I could tell that you as a nation would go downhill faster than francium explodes in water. And yet here you are today, in textbooks it's all about slavery and no politics! Alfred, your brain must be half dead! The number one reason we fought was politics! Not over slavery, though that was a small contribution to the war!
"When I sat down with my leaders and wrote a Constitution for the newly founded Confederate States of America, we explicitly defended slavery because it was a way of life! I admit to having slaves, but a lot of white folks didn't. You visited me once on a non-violent term during that war, and you saw how I treated them. A lot of slave owners like me never whipped or treated our slaves violently and they had a warm place to stay, healthy food and clean water. And yet you still continued to paint me the villain. I could practically foresee your Yankee government getting too powerful and look where you are now, Alfred!
"And you know what else? I realize slave ownership is against your Constitution of 'All man are created equal', but it was the only way of life as I knew it at the time. Perhaps if I had been allowed to grow as my own nation, I could've showed you what I was really capable of. And in today's time with today's technology, slavery would've been abolished on its own. We could've found a way around the beatings and harshness of some slave owners, but I was never given the time to grow as a nation…" A pause, "My entire life around you, I've felt like nothing more than your tool and your punching bag for when things went sour."
Alfred felt like he had just had his heart torn out, shattered into a million pieces, and replaced with empty nothingness. Everything Connor had said was true. Alfred felt miserable and at the lowest low of his life. He had forgotten about his mother, who represented Native America when it existed. He had forgotten about the Lakota tribe – his home and true family. He didn't care when his mother died. He didn't care about anybody's feelings back then except his own. He killed his own brother just for opposite opinions on politics and slavery of all things. He often forgot Matthew was still there, just like he often forgot Matthew's name. "What were you thinking when you kill your own people? What were you thinking when you let your mother die? What were you thinking when you killed me; your own brother?"
"I…I…" Alfred faltered, "I… I didn't think at all…"
"Damn right you didn't think," Connor spat. "So you can start now." Alfred simply stared after Connor as his older brother left the room, only pausing at the doorway, "And that, Alfred, is why I can't forgive you." The door to Alfred's room creaked shut and Alfred listened to his brother's footsteps echo down the hall. Once he couldn't hear them anymore, Alfred snatched his pillow into a hug and sobbed into it, hoping to at the bare minimum cry himself to sleep. The pains of his wounds were nothing compared to the lonely, shallow feeling swallowing him up.
When Alfred woke up the next morning, he felt like an empty shell. He got up, ignoring the pain surging through his body, made the bed sheets, and pulled on a clean shirt that had been left out for him. A small note written in neat handwriting was found in the pocket of the shirt; 'Just because I won't forgive you for a while doesn't mean I don't care. –Connor'
Alfred crumbled up the note and shoved it back in the pocket of his shirt. He walked practically lifelessly to the dining room, giving a vicious werewolf snarl when some of the monsters present started teasing him. They only shut up when Alfred nearly split the table in half. Alfred was exhausted, despite having just woken up. He was tired of being mocked by everyone and before the end of breakfast, he had stabbed some poor creature in the eye with a spoon. Alfred wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone today, and the kitsune beings knew it too. They began communicating to each other in their dog-like mannerism. For the rest of the time until lunch, Alfred spent his time thinking and reevaluating his priorities in life and as a nation. Even the clock on the dresser seemed to be mocking him. Each second dragged on, the ticks and tocks echoed in Alfred's ears for an eternity. Connor quietly entered the room not much later and gently coaxed Alfred from the room, "I want to show you something."
Alfred simply growled at him but allowed himself to be dragged somewhere else in the strange world, questioning why Connor took him to a garden of sorts. It was outside, for certain, but it was bitterly cold and the sky overhead swirled with clouds the colour of black ink. It was a miracle anything was actually growing in this garden. "Who keeps everything alive?" Alfred inquired.
"I try my hardest. I love gardening. When I was suffering or after I was mistreated by my master, I could always find comfort amongst the flowers. But the faeries and pixies taking care of the flowers were easy prey to the kitsune, and they soon died. The garden began to wither with nobody taking care of it…so I started taking care of it myself. It made me sad to see the flowers dying. They're just so dependent on other life in this world," Connor sighed, "It's a shame that they'll all die after I leave. Nobody cares much for these poor flowers."
"How can you be comforted from plants?" Alfred blurted out, instantly wishing he could take it back. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stupid for not thinking before talking again!
"The flowers and trees are my friends. They're exactly my kind of therapy. I can talk to them and explain my problems or express my emotions to them and I won't be judged for it. The only thing I dislike about it is that I won't get advice I really need by talking to plants. I try to listen to their spirits like Mama told me so long ago… But I don't feel anything from them. These flowers are as lifeless and soulless as I feel." At this point, Connor had kneeled down to pet a black rose that had fallen over due to a weak stem.
"I'd offer to help but… Apparently I've lost connection to mother earth and all living beings except for myself." Alfred grumbled, "Now what did you want to show me?"
Connor picked up the rose and gestured to Alfred to follow. The two walked down the pale stone pathway to a corner of the garden where a small pond was. Connor sat down in front of the ground and patted the space next to him. Alfred grunted and sat down next to his brother, looking at their reflections in the water. The American was about to freak out and leap away from the pond when he only saw his own reflection, and not his brother's. Connor, however, put a hand on Alfred's shoulder comfortingly, "I'm dead, Alfred, my reflection won't show." Alfred snorted; as if that would really make him feel better. He settled down, despite the fact. "What do you see in the pond?"
"I see me, staring back at me," Alfred stated bluntly, staring into the water. He looked to his brother for some kind of acknowledgment, earning a nod. Connor took Alfred's hand, and then cut a finger pad with a thorn from the rose. Alfred flinched and was about to react when he felt blood welling up, but only grew more confused when Connor held Alfred's hand over the pond and the blood drop stained the water, sending ripples across the surface. Alfred's reflection became blurry for a bit and when the water stilled, Alfred was appalled by what was staring back at him.
It was still him, or at least he thought. The person of his reflection looked like the brunette Alfred that Connor had killed a little while back. "This is your double, Alfred. Your duplicate, your evil self, your doppelganger. He is literally your future if you walk down the wrong path."
Alfred growled, "There is no way I'm going to let myself become that demonic creature."
"That's exactly what your Francis and Arthur said to me," Connor sighed. Alfred glared daggers at Connor. "Ever since you passed out in your shed, it's been an illusion, a world you created. The only exception was when you saw Matthew; that was reality. Only here is where your time caught up to the present. So in bringing Arthur and France into your fantasy, they became trapped as well. I can't really explain much more without confusing you… But something I can tell you is that Arthur and Francis told me they would never fall victim to their doppelganger."
"And…the Oliver and Francis I saw…?" Alfred trailed off.
"It's them," Connor sighed, "I can't really say much to console you. But do you finally understand how impossibly hard it is to distinguish your fantasy and illusions from reality?"
Alfred's hands were fists, and he was so silently infuriated that his knuckles were turning white. He gritted his teeth, restraining from pouncing on his brother, "Why did you let them become that? How could you let them become creatures of Hell?"
"…Remember that nation I said who had survived this attack? He knows you're suffering Alfred. Now listen very carefully. I already told you he's a friend of Arthur's and you know him better than you think, but here's a new hint. I couldn't save them because this nation is risking everything he has for you to get out alive, and in doing so, he's created a time loop."
"A time loop?" Alfred echoed, staring at Connor in confusion and doubt. "No nation in the world wields that kind of power."
"You'd be surprised. Arthur and his two pals have mastered it. The time loop is screwing around with how I keep track of time, and that's what caused the bridge to go out of order," Connor replied.
"Can't you just tell me what my future is?!" Alfred demanded.
Connor shook his head, "I'm an angel of death, not a time traveler. But there is some good news."
"You found out a way to get me out of here forever and alive?"
"I said good news, not a miracle." Connor rolled his eyes and Alfred pouted. "Anytime you're in the reality realm, I'll be by your side…unfortunately there is a rather small sacrifice to be made."
"Throw out your cards and I'll be the judge." Alfred snorted.
"In order for me to be by your side and defend you, I need to become a nation again; at the bare minimum a small island owned by the United States," Connor looked uncomfortable at the proposal and it was out in the playing field now.
Alfred didn't know how to react so he just stared at the water. The idea sounded farfetched at the same time it was so tantalizingly close. Alfred thought it over a few more moments before nodding, "I've decided." There was a brief pause, "Giving up an island is worth protection, but there are just a few problems."
"What is it?" Connor asked.
"How do we explain who you are and where you came from? They'll only laugh at you if you tell them what really happened and…you told Arthur and me that you didn't want to go back to a world where you'd be judged for your opinion…" Alfred trailed off.
"I sat down and though about it for a while. I came to realize that no matter what time era it may be, there's always those people who judge you for your opinion and will act on their instinct. Death is a part of life and it's inevitable. Adapting to the new ways of the world will take some getting used to, but I'll try…" Connor sighed.
Alfred grinned and suddenly hugged his brother, "Thank you…"
Connor stiffened at the contact and simply patted Alfred's back, "But first, we have to get you out of this illusionary nightmare."
Alfred sat back, still smiling, "No, first we fix your hair."
"My hair; what about my-" Connor let out a grunt as Alfred grabbed his shirt collar and held him in place with that crazy strength and ruffled the black ash and powder out and continued until the natural blond color came back. The former Confederacy's cowlick popped back up. "My hair was fine…"
"I like you better as a blond," Alfred stuck his tongue out.
"Just remember though, I'll only be at your side when it's reality. I might take you back to the bridge, and you may pass through it, but if I'm not there, it's just you plunging further into your fantasy world. I don't know the total 100% cure for this myself… Perhaps I'll go have a chat with our survivor later." Connor agreed with himself before tossing the black rose in the pond and watching it fall apart and sink.
"So what kind of creature is your...uhm…Master?" Alfred asked a bit awkwardly.
"He's not the prettiest thing. I don't think he has his own species, more so he might be a sub species of some other known creature… He refuses to tell me his name, and rather refer to him as 'Master'. He's a disgusting bony creature with taut grey skin stretched over the bones. He smells like death and decay and has phantom like features such as floating off the ground with a black aura around him. His face is like a long human skull with animal carcass pulled over it tightly, eyes caved it so much they look like beady orbs. Where our hair is, he has the mane of a moose and the antler of a moose as well. Various patches of moose fur over his body but from the waist down is usually the phantom tail." Connor shivered a bit.
"Sounds like a wendigo to me." Alfred shrugged.
"A what?" Connor blinked.
"A wendigo; Matthew keeps talking about them and their apparent recent sightings in Alberta, Canada. They were first discussed by the Algonquian people in Native American times. And you bother me about forgetting tribal times. Wendigo are violent cannibals. If he really is one, then I'm surprised you've lived so long…" Alfred shivered at the thought.
"Alright Mister Supernatural Expert, how do you know when you're being stalked by one?" Connor crossed his arms.
"You…don't…" Alfred blinked, "Why?"
"I like to call it...don't move or you'll be ripped to shreds."
Alfred tensed, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up, instantly feeling an ominous presence behind him. Long, black, claw-like fingers danced around his throat; then ghosted across his chest, taunting him. A rotten smell engulfed the American and Alfred had to resist the urge to gag. "Welcome to my manor." A voice purred into Alfred's ear, the stench of decay and death almost unbearable now. Alfred whimpered when he was lifted up from behind into a standing position, poisonous claws tearing open his shirt. The neatly wrapped bandages came undone, falling to the stone pathway, exposing the earlier wounds. Connor hissed and withdrew a knife from one of his pockets. "Ah, ah, ah, pet. What do you plan on doing with that?"
Connor simply scowled. "Now drop the knife," the creature ordered. The death angel scowled in refusal. "Or do you want me to induce your brother with windigo psychosis?" Connor dropped the blade reluctantly at that.
"I beg of you to spare him, Master." Connor nearly spat the last word out.
"And why should I do that? He's just another nation, easily replaced," the wendigo jeered, wrapping its phantom tail around Alfred as a boa constrictor would. "It's been a long while since I've tasted the flesh of a nation."
"Believe me when I say that killing him isn't worth the trouble it's going to cause." Connor warned. "Death has not given the command to kill either."
"Death… Oh poor Death. He doesn't know anything of what I do." An evil grin.
Connor hissed, "You sick bastard."
"You do not speak to your master in that way, pet." The wendigo squeezed Alfred tighter in its grasp.
"W-wait I have a question!" Alfred whined.
"Spit it out, pathetic nation." Connor's 'master' growled hoarsely.
"Earlier, Connor, you said that anything I've been through already is a fantasy world… Meaning I died at some point and those were send backs in time to try and prevent something…" The lighter blond stared at his brother completely lost.
"…" For a long while there was silence until oh so quietly, "Yes Alfred… "
"And I regret to inform you," the wendigo ghosted a hand around Alfred's throat in a choking hold, the other hand poised over his heart, "That the time loop begins…now." And at the last word, there was no time to react. After all, there isn't much you can do when you've just witnessed your blood brother's heart being ripped violently from his chest.
AN:/ Dun dun dun. I killed Alfred, yes. But the story does not end here! Wow I feel so bad. It's been nearly a month since I last updated. asdfjkl; Well I'm off all this week ((You Americans and your Thanksgiving. Sheesh. Just one day for the actual holiday is great but a whole week?)) so I'll try to HOPEFULLY post something for this as a sort of apology. Man that will be a miracle. I use Microsoft Word to type my chapters up and usually they stretch to ten pages with 12 point font. Wow. Think I cna finished chapter 5 in a few days? I dunno. My brain with 'thhhbbtttt' as soon as I finished this chapter. I know what I want to do, just that I have no idea actually getting to that point without drastically skipping like 50 years worth in story time. ARGHHHH *beats my head on a desk* I'll figure something out...
So anyway! This chapter's song I based around is Until The Day I Die by Story of The Year. :3
Reviews and favs are appreciated! I'm not as serious as I write my stories to be, I promise! I am honestly a funny person who just wants somebody to talk to . Until next chapter!
Love, Alex