Flashback again! In which Alfred and Gilly bond 3
Mental Training
The past weeks for Alfred had been absolute hell. Gilbert had been making him get up two hours earlier than all of the other men, and he could only go to bed two hours after all of the other men did. The training was outrageous. Gilbert's exercises would have killed just about any normal human being. Francis didn't do much. He usually just sat and watched as Gilbert barked orders at the young soldier. He even offered a few words of encouragement when he could. But Alfred still suffered under the mental and physical stress of it all.
At one point, Alfred fainted. He had been running laps in the snow for hours. On either his 89 or 98 lap, his legs gave out, and he lost consciousness for all of 30 seconds.
Gilbert saw Alfred collapse and marched over to him right away, with Francis close behind. When he got to the fallen boy, Gilbert pulled him off the ground by his hair. Alfred yelped and cringed from the pain, but he was still too weak to try to stand on his own. He could barely even open his eyes.
"Hey! Take it easy!" Francis protested, surprised by his friend's sudden force.
"Do you think Britain's army is going to 'take it easy?' "Gilbert replied. "Listen, kid, don't think that Arthur and his men are going to treat you differently just because you're his little brother and all that crap. This is war. None of that means shit anymore. His army is merciless and his tactics are cruel. Therefore, you have to return his cruelty sevenfold! You can't just fight back. You have to destroy him! Tear him apart until he rues the day he decided to mess with you! Only then will you have a chance in hell of living through this. But if you just want to give up now and get yourself killed, be my fucking guest." And with that, he released Alfred's hair and let him fall back to the ground.
Slowly, but surely, Alfred began to pull himself up. Francis was about to offer him a hand but Gilbert held him back. As Alfred tried to find his balance, he glared at his instructors with a strong new determination.
"Twenty more laps, blondie. " Gilbert said finally. "Then you're done for the day."
Gilbert replayed that moment in his mind over and over again later that night. He had absolutely no regrets about how he had treated Alfred. In fact, as he walked around the camp, looking at the stars, he tried to think up even more horrible tasks for Alfred to do the next day.
While debating whether or not to make Alfred pull a wagon full of iron cannons, he became distracted by a flicker light coming from the forest. He approached the orange glow, intending to find and yell at its source.
After crawling through a few bushes, Gilbert saw Alfred sitting by a fire, roasting marshmallows. He was going to scream at the boy for being up past his bedtime, but before he could, he noticed a single tear rolling down the boy's face. Alfred closed his eyes and began to whimper ever so quietly.
"Hey," Gilbert called out softly. "What have I told you about using your bayonet to roast marshmallows?"
Alfred was startled. He stood right up and quickly tried to wipe the tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sir! I didn't mean to disobey your orders, Sir! I was just really hungry and I had a dream about smores so I thought that if no one was around I could..."
"It's alright, kid. I'm not mad at you. Gimme one of those marshmallows." Gilbert sat down on a rock next to Alfred and stared into the fire. " So, can't sleep?"
Alfred didn't look him in the eyes. "...yeah."
"Why?"
Alfred shrugged. "I don't know..."
Gilbert took a bite out of his marshmallow. " You suck at lying, kid. It's obvious something's bothering you. Better spill it now and get it off your chest."
Alfred stared for a minute at his hopelessly burnt marshmallow, then at the fire.
"...What if I can't do it?"
Gilbert swallowed another bite. "Excuse me?"
"What if I can't do it? Win the war and all? Arthur raised me. He knows everything about me. He's been around for centuries! I've seen what he can do. And I'm just some little kid trying to be tough! I have no idea what I'm doing! What if I fail? What if this whole damn war is just a big failure? I don't think I could ever face Arthur again! I don't think I could ever face my people again! I would never forgive myself!"
"Hey, hey, hey! Calm down! You'll wake up the whole camp!" Gilbert attempted to soothe the younger nation, moving a bit closer to him. "Here, let me show you something."
Gilbert lifted up one of his sleeves to reveal a series of deep scars and cuts and gashes that trailed all the way up his arm.
"G-Gilbert, Sir. Did you...?" Alfred began to ask.
"What, you think I did this to myself? Hell no! I got these from battles, dummkopf! I would have shown you some of my other scars but they might be a bit too much for you to handle right now."
Alfred blushed a bit at is own stupid question. Gilbert sighed.
"Look, blondie. I've been in a lot of wars. I didn't win all of them. In fact, sometimes, I even knew I was going to lose."
"But if you knew you were going to lose," Alfred asked, "why fight?"
"Because," Gilbert said looking deep into the younger nation's eyes, "I believed in what I fought for. Wars can never be fought with out reason. They are fought because you have a dream. And you will willingly give you life to obtain that dream! If not, then the fight is pointless. Do you believe in your freedom Alfred?"
A small smile began to creep its way onto Alfred's face. "...yes."
"Say it."
" ...I believe in my freedom."
"Gut!" Gilbert stood up. "Now I want you to stand up and say, 'I'm independent and I'm not going to take your shit anymore!"
Alfred wobbled to his feet. "I'm independent and I'm not going to take your shit anymore?"
"Louder"
"I'm independent and I'm not going to take your shit anymore."
"Louder!"
"I'm independent and I'm not gonna take your shit anymore!"
"Say it like you're saying it to his bushy-brow face!"
"I'm independent! And I'm not gonna take your shit anymore! "
"Louder! Make them hear you all the way in London!"
"I AM ALFRED FUCKING JONES OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA! I'M INDEPENDENT! AND I'M NOT GONNA TAKE YOUR SHIT ANYMORE!"
"PERFECT!" Gilberts shouted with glee. Then he forcibly grabbed the American by his shoulders. "Now hit me! "
"W-what?"
"JUST DO IT!"
Alfred pulled his fist back and punched the Prussian right in the nose with everything he had. Gilbert went flying backwards, stumbling over some tree roots before tripping over a log and hitting the ground with a thud.
Alfred ran to Gilbert, worried that he had severely injured his teacher. "Crap! Are you okay?"
Gilbert held his nose for a minute, then released it, letting a steady stream of blood trickle down his face. He was breathing heavily, probably from the pain, but after a few moments, he looked up at his student and smiled.
"You're ready..."
Long chapter yay! Next chapter, Alfie finally confronts Gilly about his staring problem. I'll probably have it up sometime next weekend
