Rating: K+
Warnings: None

So, this is, unfortunately, one of the shorter chapters, but I promise longer ones are coming up! I had just planned for there to be long chapters, followed by short ones, so a lot of the story will be like that.

Thank you for continuing to review! Enjoy!


There was an air of happiness that followed the party of music, with the men and women around the pub jumping on stage to sing tunes from across the centuries. Alfred began realizing many of these songs were highly popular in his town, which implied many things about the population of this underworld.

It was still weird to him to be around these centuries dead people, some of them even living in his town. It was almost like... walking into a giant history lesson. Everyone carried clothing and wounds they bore from the years they suffered through. They had their own stories; their own personalities. Alfred wondered if maybe he'd be remembered like that. If some young teen would wander down to his grave and ask about all the places he'd traveled. This moment would certainly be something he'd tell his grand kids years from now.

Despite the partying, the two still got looks from the passerbys, mostly focused on Arthur. Apparently, not all of them had known this story. Some gave him looks of pity. Others had no emotion while they stared. Alfred watched as Arthur squirmed due to the looks, his face turning heavier from the annoyance they caused. He felt a tightness every time he tried to think about the story, or even about Arthur's agony he'd carried with him past death. The fact he still held the remains of his head- or what was left of it- high was something to be heavily respected.

It wasn't long until Alfred felt fingers slipping into his open palm as he listened to those on stage, and their smooth melodies. His thoughts had absorbed him to the point it was mostly just background music. He twitched in surprise, not expecting the cold skin of the other to make a sudden appearance on his hand. Even if Alfred had begun to find this place cool in just a few hours, he still wasn't used to the idea of dead bodies touching him. "Hey," Arthur leaned in, catching his glimpse. His voice seemed more hallow than it had in the past. "Would you mind if we went somewhere else? These imbeciles..." He trailed off, not even bothering to continue the sentence.

Alfred felt safest in the bar. It seemed everyone was kind to each other, and it wasn't as if he didn't have places to get weapons from, if they all suddenly turned on him. But he couldn't deny Arthur this. He knew just how uncomfortable he must have felt. "Sure."


They wandered for a few minutes through the streets that spread through many houses and alleys. There didn't seem to necessarily be a day or night here, though there was a time that faint, yellow light highlighted the world, and a time it faded into a white glow. The streets now shone with the cover of night.

The area was somewhat beautiful, even if everything was... y'know... dead. Even the flowers hardly stood, wilting from their core. It was saddening to just see them perish, but everything had to move on at some point. Die, die, we all pass away.

Arthur suddenly halted in his walking, causing Alfred to freeze as well. He glanced up, the hand connected to his dropping from its grip, to find the Brit motioning towards an empty bench. "Is this alright with you?" He asked, wanting to make the other comfortable. "We can go to my house, if you'd like, or somewhere else. I just thought it was rather... pretty here?" He shifted to his other foot. His body language screamed nervousness. God, Arthur could really be a sap.

The bench was simple. It was made of general granite-stone, with the backing being crafted to have etchings of words that were hard to make out along it. But with the moonlight having a direct path to shine on it from the lack of nearby cover, and the flowers spreading across the dead grass standing upright, it gave it a sort of elderly, natural beauty. "I'm fine here!" Alfred was just glad there was something that resembled an item from the human world, honestly. He'd take anything he could get. "I don't need some special place to sit." He cast a glance over the crafting of it, hoping that this wasn't just something that had fallen or broke to symbolize its death in the human world. He didn't exactly want to fall through.

The pair settled down easily, though Alfred had moved to the far side of the bench, keeping his distance. He still felt hesitant just relaxing. Even if this was stone, what if it suddenly cracked? Just put up with it for now, Jones. Alfred thought to himself. You can trick him or something. Maybe he'll take you back.

Alfred stretched out his legs while he had the chance, feeling like he had slept in a coffin for a week with all the stiffness in his muscles. God, this sucked. He just wanted a warm bath and his bed that seemed to absorb him as part of it. How much he'd give to go to the mortal lands.

Arthur rustled next to him, and crumpled over until he was peering under the stone. His hands reached into the darkness, and came back out with a white box that was wrapped in ribbon. He coughed heavily for a few seconds, before shoving it into Alfred's lap like it was nothing. "A present," he said before Alfred could even ask. "I thought it was unnecessary, but Francis and Elizaveta told me to get it for you..."

"Who are they?" Alfred asked, conflicted on the gift. On one end, cool, free stuff! On the other, what would a dead person give as a present, and, for what? He flipped over the tag, finding scribbled words. Happy engagement. This guy moved fast.

"I'm glad you asked~" Came a rather snooty reply. Alfred didn't expect a third person to come along. He glanced up, expecting to see someone standing right there, but there was no one. "Mon lapin, would you mind setting me down on the bench?"

Arthur huffed at the request, though this didn't stop him as he grabbed something from within the fabric of his sleeve. And out popped that little worm thing from earlier. Alfred pulled a not-so-friendly face, scooting away from the bug as it squirmed. The Briton didn't seem affected carrying it around inside his skin. Gross.

"Okay, that's just kinda creepy." Alfred scrunched his face at the weird appearance of it. It was green, with yellow tints over its head that resembled hair.

"Excusez moi?" Francis the maggot asked indignantly. "I'm a noble. I'll have you know I stowed away on Napoleon's ship for years, until we docked here!" The thing erected itself in the weirdest of ways. He held his head up, as if it somehow possessed a chin, and his slime went on hold for a few moments.

"And how did you die?" Alfred laughed, unbelieving to the fact this puny thing could mean so much. "Stabbed by a pirate? Maimed by Beethoven? In the midst of saving the King?"

Francis hesitated, and his face fell as he answered, "...I got stepped on..."

Arthur and Alfred snorted at the same time, Arthur holding his lips to prevent sound from escaping. Alfred wasn't as kind, and let it rip, laughing out loud as the little thing cursed his presence.

"Maybe I shouldn't have helped pick out such a wonderful gift," Francis sniffed, turning his back to Alfred and facing his host. "You seem ungrateful."

"You weren't the only one that had a say in it, idiot." Alfred's eyes widened, and he snapped his head back to see a spider he hadn't noticed before perched on his shoulder. "I did most of the thinking."

Alfred instinctively swatted at the offending insect, as it went flying in the other direction. It landed on Arthur, who seemed unphased by the action.

"What was that?" The black spider demanded, its words threatening. "I was only talking! No need to hit me!"

"This is getting way too weird way too fast." Alfred shuddered. If there was one thing he didn't like, it was spiders in his space. "First, a talking maggot was odd enough, but a talking spider? And they're fighting each other?"

"They don't get along well, half the time." Arthur sighed heavily, turning his scolding glares to them. "But, then again, I don't think it's possible for me to agree with anything this frog has to say."

"That's not very nice, ma femme!" The maggot chuckled. From Arthur's clear lack of reaction at the pet name, Alfred guessed he didn't speak much French. "Though I'm clearly the only one that can be trusted."

"Oh, bloody hell, just open it." Arthur instructed, plucking Francis from his spot and shoving him back within his shirt. There were French curses from far off, but Arthur forbid Alfred from caring with his eyes. "It's not anything special, however..."

Alfred pulled a very fake smile as he pulled off the lid. "Uh... thanks," he said without any sort of glee, as he withdrew with pieces of bone dangling from his fingers. "Just what I wanted..."

Alfred glanced back to Arthur, just in time to see him rolling his eyes. "Are you that dense?" He took the box from the other's hands, and spilled the bones out on to the dirty ground.

"What was-" Alfred stopped as he felt a rush of cold wind rush over him. It didn't seem like a normal breeze. More like what he had felt the night he proposed on accident. The bones were moved by the invisible chill, cast into a flurry that spun them in the air for moments, like a mini-tornado. "Dude, this is awesome! But... what is it?"

"Wait a second."

And Alfred did. The tornado-ish wind began to die down, and a click sounded as all the bones popped into place. And standing right before Alfred was a puppy made of remains. Even creepier, it barked and wagged its tail.

The dog knew its owner right off the bat, and Alfred found it galloping toward him at top speeds. It leaped, landing right on the lap of the shocked American. He heard chuckles from several voices, but ignored it as to avoid embarrassment.

"What's your name... boy?" Alfred said quite awkwardly, unsure of how to handle a dead dog resting on his legs. His fingers picked at the shining tag around its neck. "Taffy..." What? He recognized that name... "Oh my god! Wait, Taffy! Is that you?"

The puppy barked at the name, making Alfred laugh with a cheerful glee. His arms wrapped around the skinless canine, his face burying in the crook of its neck. "I thought mom had sent you to the farm! Not... Oh god." He laughed regardless, scratching different parts of the animal. "Hmm? You like that, boy?"

"I hope it isn't too much," Arthur mumbled, scratching the top of his head with questioning fingers. "I, uh... I just thought it'd be nice?"

Alfred beamed. He loved this dog the most of all his past animals. To be reunited was the best feeling ever. "It's perfect!" He insisted, and it was true. This was great. "'Sorry I didn't get you anything, though."

"It's fine!" Arthur said quickly, biting his lip at the eagerness. "It wasn't required. I just wanted to make your stay easier."

"Ma chère, I swear, I can feel your modesty crawling in your skin~" Francis crawled from the tangled mess of hair on Arthur's head, dangling down the length of Arthur's face teasingly.

"Shut it."

"Francis, you're nothing but a nuisance." It was Elizaveta's turn to prod at the pair. "Can't you tell Arthur's just shining with love?"

"I swear, I'm going to drown you both," Arthur hissed, his face scrunching as it always had when he was irritated. Alfred was quite amused by the banter. Even if they were a group of odd characters, they still seemed like a perfect family.

Maybe Alfred could use that someday, when he got back to Lili.

Maybe...