No super important authors notes this time, just sorry for the slight delay in posting. D: I am fail. Not really sure if the content here counts as T rating-wise, but to be safe...OHMYGOSH THIS IS SO LONG.


When Alfred had returned to the house, the rabbit was now sitting atop his head. He stopped when he reached the porch. He picked the rabbit off the top of his head and looked at it, nose to nose. "I can't take you inside."

The rabbit's nose twitched in response, ears flattening against its head. Al frowned, "I don't want you end up like Flopsy." Another twitch of the nose. Alfred set the rabbit down and watched as it began to hop off. "Thanks for listening!" He called out after it.

He walked up the steps and into the house just as the sun was setting over the horizon. The smell of Arthur's cooking reached his nose and he groaned.

Alfred wondered if he could sneak into his room without alerting Arthur, but then the older nation might wonder if he had actually gotten home in time, and then he'd get in trouble and Al just didn't have it in him to deal with a moody Arthur. Well, moodier than usual.

With a contained sigh he walked towards the kitchen, and was greeted with the sight of Arthur standing over the stove, probably trying to salvage what was left of something burnt.

"I'm home." He announced. Arthur turned around, surprise flitting across his features only to be replaced by approval. "Just in time for dinner then." Arthur didn't say anything else as he put whatever he had made onto two plates.

Resigned to eat whatever he'd cooked up, Alfred sat down, and drummed his fingers on the edge of the table. He hadn't ever expected to be doing this again. Eating Arthur's food at the table, as a colony to the British Empire. Thinking about it almost made him lose what little appetite he had.

Arthur sat down opposite him and slid the plate across to Alfred. He stared at the somewhat burnt food, figuring it to be some kind of meat and vegetables. The weight of Arthur's stare was beginning to get annoying. Alfred grabbed a fork and speared what could have been a carrot at one time before putting it in his mouth.

The two of them continued to eat in silence, which was a blessing as far as Alfred was concerned. He didn't want to hear anything from Arthur. Though he'd eventually have to talk with him. Time was of the essence, and he couldn't afford to wait too long.

"Tomorrow we'll be going into the city." The abrupt statement caught Alfred off guard. With another one of the mystery vegetables halfway to his mouth he stopped and finally made eye contact with Arthur. "What? Why do I need to go?" He eased the burnt veggie off his fork and began poking at the rest of his food. Seriously, had this stuff been edible – Ever?

Arthur resisted the urge to scold Alfred for playing with his food. "The King expects you to be present for the hangings, as do I."

The fork fell out of his grasp, fingers going limp. Alfred's eyes shot up to Arthur's. "W-what? Already? But, but you don't even have all the delegates, and-"

"We captured some during the fighting, five to be exact." Arthur interrupted casually, as he continued to eat his meal. "Four of them will be hung tomorrow. The fifth recanted his signature and swore fealty to the King." Arthur glanced up, "The four are-"

This time it was Alfred's turn to cut off Arthur. "I know who they are." Walton, Heyward, Middleton, and Rutledge. He was hoping that the hangings would be postponed until all were accounted for. He'd made a grievous error and now four men would have to pay with their lives for it.

Alfred got to his feet, shoving the chair roughly away from the table as he stood, head bowed and shoulders shaking. This wasn't fair. How could Arthur so easily dismiss a man's life? Especially that of brave men, more courageous than any of his cowardly royals.

Arthur watched as Alfred stood up, pitying the poor boy and his love for the men who had committed treason. "America, sit back down." He sounded exasperated as he sighed. "You knew what the consequences would be." By this time Arthur had set his silverware down and was watching the colony expectantly.

"I hate you." The words were pitched low. Arthur's eyes widened, lips parting as he stared at Alfred in shock.

Alfred's head straightened up, eyes darkened with rage as he looked at Arthur. "Excuse me?" Arthur had yet to move from his chair.

Alfred leaned forward, fingers curling into the edge of the table. "I hate you, and I will never forgive you for this."

Arthur physically recoiled, one hand straying up towards his chest as he stared at Alfred. "Al-Alfred, please, there is no need..." He finally stood up as well and reached across the small table to try and comfort him, assure the colony that life would continue on.

Instead Alfred stepped back quickly, shaking his head as he put distance between them. "I don't want your pity." He hissed the words out through gritted teeth. "I want nothing to do with you." Alfred felt numb, like he was watching all this from outside his own body.

The sympathetic look from Arthur turned into one of annoyance. "Look here, I will not just stand by and listen to this tripe of yours." Green clashed with blue. "This is not a matter up for debate, and perhaps if you acted mature I could stop treating you like a child!" Arthur wasn't sure when he had begun to shout, but he could feel his face darken in anger.

"You're right you don't have to listen to this..Because I'm not going to stand here and listen to you so...So casually discuss murdering my delegates!" With that Alfred spun around and took off from the kitchen.

Shocked, Arthur stared at the spot where Alfred had been moments ago. "You insufferable git!" He shouted after the colony. Face red, Arthur roughly picked up the plates and tossed them, along with the uneaten food in the basin. He'd leave Alfred to his thoughts, and collect him in the morning when the time came.

Once Alfred had gotten to his room, he slammed the door, locked it and collapsed to the floor in front of it. He began crying the moment he hit the ground. Frustrated and so disappointed in himself. Those men had trusted him, and he had condemned them to death with his failure.

He bit down on his bottom lip, his hand curling into a fist and hitting the floor once, twice. Useless, he was completely useless. He rubbed at his face with the sleeve of his shirt, and shakily got to his feet. Alfred walked over towards the window, intent on opening it and finding a way to save the men before morning.

As quietly as he could he began to push the window ajar, but stopped when he looked down and saw the splash of red against green. There were plenty of soldiers milling about on his land. The officer of the group was standing next to a horse, head tilted back as he looked directly at Alfred.

He slammed the window panes shut, screaming in frustration before he turned and collapsed onto his bed, hitting it with his fists. This wasn't fair. It wasn't right! He had just wanted to prove to Arthur that he could take care of himself..That maybe one day he could even take care of Arthur, of everyone.

Yet here he was, trapped in the same gilded cage he had been for years. And he wasn't sure he could endure another hundred years of it.


Alfred hadn't slept at all that night. The food Arthur had made sat heavy in his stomach, like a lead weight. He perched on the edge of his bed, watching out the window as the sunlight began to replace the darkness from the night. The night that had dragged on with each minute ticking by, resonating in his heart.

The door opened and Alfred kept on looking straight ahead. He saw red out of the corner of his eye and stubbornly ignored it.

"You're not even dressed yet." Arthur sighed as he looked at the unresponsive teen. He took a few more steps so he stood in front of Alfred, and with one hand tilted his chin up to he could get a better look at him.

Dark circles framed bloodshot eyes, the bright blue faded considerably. Arthur's eyes widened as Alfred finally turned that empty gaze up to him. "My dear boy..." He leaned down, and wrapped his arms around stiff shoulders, his chin resting atop Alfred's blond head.

"The sooner this is done with the better." He moved away from the silent colony, and began pulling out clothes for him to wear.

Alfred got to his feet and watched as Arthur laid out clothes on the bed. He said nothing, but was beginning to think that black would be a more appropriate color than the deep blues and creams of the clothing that Arthur had picked out.

An uncomfortable silence grew between them, mostly uncomfortable for Arthur. Alfred seemed oblivious to it as he stared at the clothing without so much as a blink.

"I'll be waiting for you outside." Arthur made a hasty exit from the room, leaving the door partially open as he left.

Alfred walked over and pushed on the door until it clicked shut. He pulled off the clothes from yesterday that he'd never bothered to change out of and began to dress in the clean items Arthur had chosen.

He grabbed a black ribbon from the bottommost drawer of his dresser and roughly tied it around his left arm. The ribbon was the best he could do for now, and it was probably the most he could get away with.

Alfred looked at the stuffed plush rabbit sitting on the floor. His brows twitched downward, hesitating a moment before he turned and left the room.

Arthur was standing by a carriage out front, speaking with the officer that had watched Alfred's window the night before. Shoulders hunched, Alfred forced himself to walk out the front door towards them.

Instead of stopping by the nation, Alfred walked right on past and stood next to one of the horses. He patted its neck and ran his other hand along its forehead.

Frowning slightly Arthur nodded to the officer who turned and walked back towards his own horse. "Alfred..."

At the sound of his name he stepped back from the horse and without a glance to Arthur got into the carriage. Arthur followed in after him and sat opposite his colony, who was staring out the small window.

Arthur knew better than to try and say anything, so the ride passed in silence. The sounds of a gathered crowd grew louder and louder, and eventually the carriage came to a stop. Arthur stepped out first, and was about to offer his hand to Alfred, but the teen had already gotten out and was standing with his head hung low.

The island nation reached out to place a hand on Alfred's shoulder, but he flinched away, and shook his head. Arthur felt helpless, watching Alfred distance himself like this. He turned and walked towards the box they'd be sitting in, along with the newly reappointed British representatives.

Alfred sat down in a chair, his body trembling and skin cold. His foot twitched, while his fingers interlaced and then pulled apart, before repeating the process again. He could hear Arthur talking with someone else, someone with the same smooth British accent, but the sound of his own heartbeat seemed far louder.

Then everything went quiet for a moment before the boos and the cries returned with greater vigor than before. Alfred's face lost any remaining color as a cart was pulled in with four men sitting on it, each shackled and bloodied.

The cart stopped suddenly and the executioner grabbed the first of the men to be hung. Al leaned forward, fingers grasping out as though he could stop this with his will.

Middleton, Arthur Middleton. Alfred's eyes widened as the young man was led up the steps. He was barely 37...But he stood as proud and defiant as ever. His chin held high and eyes skimming the crowd with courage that brought tears to Alfred's own eyes.

Then Middleton seemed to finally see Alfred. The moment their eyes locked, Alfred got to his feet.

Middleton's smile widened and he mouthed one word, "Liberty."

The lever was pulled and he dropped suddenly. Alfred cried out, but his voice was lost amongst the crowd. He stared at the limp body, jerking his gaze away only when a keening moan reached him. Alfred looked down to find Middleton's wife, Mary sobbing as a redcoat held her.

Alfred looked over at Arthur, who stared right back at him with a steady gaze. "Please, no more."

Arthur said nothing, and simply glanced back to the gallows as another prisoner was taken from the cart while the body of Middleton was tossed aside.

"No. Please, not Edward." Alfred was mumbling as he watched the even younger Edward Rutledge led up the steps. His mind flashed back to the jokes the two of them had shared. Edward had been the youngest to sign the Declaration at just twenty six years old.

He frantically turned to Arthur. "He-He didn't even want this! He wanted reconciliation!" Alfred's voice was hoarse and choked with unshed tears. Arthur's silence seemed louder than the jeers and shouts of the people gathered below.

Alfred looked back as Edward awaited his fate. The former artillery captain stared ahead, face smooth of any emotion.

The executioner approached the lever and Alfred shouted out, "Edward! Someone do something!" Why did everyone just stand there and watch their own Patriots be condemned?

Rutledge glanced up, surprised when he saw Alfred, but he quickly looked away as though he were the one ashamed. This time, Alfred closed his eyes, unable to watch another man hang for him. Bile crept up his throat, his grip on the railing the only thing that kept him standing.

When he next opened his eyes the noose was empty, and another young man was being pulled to his fate.

"Tom." Alfred breathed the name, watching as Thomas Heyward was chosen next. It wasn't right. All of them were so young still, not a one of them even forty. Alfred looked away from Tom to see the last remaining delegate in the cart watching him.

George Walton held Alfred's gaze, before he jerked his head towards the gallows. Alfred's fleeting look shifted back to the hangman's noose as it was tightened about Thomas's neck. Tom closed his eyes, and began speaking, or perhaps praying.

Alfred leaned closer, and watched Tom's lips, reading them as best he could since the crowd drowned out his voice.

"Are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the-"

Alfred gasped when Thomas dropped, stumbling backwards. "Pursuit of happiness." He whispered the words, finishing the opening to the Declaration.

Only George remained. Alfred swayed on his feet, heart heavy as he watched the last of his delegates calmly accept his death. "Fight." Alfred barely murmured the word. "Kick, scream, anything." Walton did nothing of the sort, and his was demeanor was the most eerie to witness.

Even the crowd quieted down as the last of the delegates stood with a noose around his neck and a peaceful air about him.

Alfred couldn't look away, Walton demanded he see this. Even Arthur leaned forward in his seat. It felt like an eternity before the wood creaked and the floor gave out beneath Walton. Alfred knew it was impossible, to hear over the frenzied cries of the people below...But he swore he could not only hear, but feel the snap of the noose as it so suddenly took the life of another young man.

His eyelids felt heavy, and he fought to keep them from slipping shut. Fingers uncurled from the railing as he fell backwards, legs giving out beneath him. The back of his head clipped the edge of the chair he had hardly sat in.

The edges of his vision faded, everything darkening around him as he lost consciousness.


Soooo the four delegates used in this story were actually captured during the American Revolution. Not because they had signed the Declaration, but because they had been active participants in the fighting. In real life they were eventually traded or released back to the Americans once the Revolution was won. Since that didn't happen in this story, the four met their fates at the gallows. The fifth one who recanted his signature and swore his allegiance to King George III was Richard Stockton. He was the only signer who violated his pledge to support the Declaration with his life. Or as the Declaration reads, "Our Lives, our Fortunes, and our Sacred Honor."

Then again he was the only delegate captured for his status of being a signer of the Declaration. Hrm.