The Story of Alfred F. Jones

"It all began when America was still a colony when I was young. My parents had abandoned me when I was just a babe. I was dropped off on a poor native woman. She did her best to raise me, but when I was six she died of some fever. I was taken in by a full time school full of foreigners. I found it was for all the rich dignitaries' children. All of them were older than me and kinda looked down on the orphanage's ward. Only one really was nice to me. And you seem to have something in common with him" Alfred shook his head sadly.

"His name was Arthur. He cared for me and protected me from all the other children. He was three years older than me so when he was eighteen he adopted me in a way. I mean it wasn't really official since the school had actually just told me to get out before they called and I quote 'I'll make the coppers kick you out for me! They'll find a use for your smart arse in prison!' So I had fled with nothing but the clothes on my back and since Arthur had just inherited his family business he hired me, gave me food and shelter, and all in all saved my life. I worked at his printing company until rumours of uprising started. I went to join them and Arthur wouldn't have it" Alfred looked a little guilty.

"I did come back to work but it was after the Boston Tea Party. Arthur suspected I had something to do with it but didn't say anything. I guess it was around that I realized how much he cared. He took me in even after I probably rebelled. I kinda idolized him for it. Though I don't think I really admitted how I felt for a while." Alfred's voice was barely audible but Arthur understood why.

"When the war really started he was offered a position in the military and he accepted. Even if he had spent half of his life in America he was a British gentleman. He hated that people would even think of rebelling. I however was on the opposite side of the argument. I joined the revolutionists. When I told Arthur he looked devastated. I still remember the look of sadness as he told me the next time we met it would be on a battlefield. And he was right."

"We met near Yorktown. He tried to kill me. Hell he had the gun pointed at my face…but he couldn't do it. He left crying telling me the truth. That was the first time I ever saw him cry. It broke my heart. I let him escape. I didn't see him again until after Yorktown. He was going back to England. He told me I had broken his heart and there was nothing left for him. I wanted to tell him the truth, that I felt the same way, but I couldn't…Instead I told him it was wrong to feel that way about another man and I never wanted to be associated with him again."Alfred was crying slightly but Arthur was too shocked to speak.

"Soon after I started painting. I painted anything I could, mostly landscapes. I hid how I felt behind the happiness of the paintings. One day I painted a picture of Arthur…I had never fully accepted how I felt towards him. I thought it was wrong loving a man. It was a sin. I didn't care anymore though. I went to find anything about him. That's where I met Norge. He knew Arthur well. He said he would help me but it would be a long and tedious journey. I agreed to go. Two days before we were to leave to go to England Norge asked me to make a painting of my study. I did" Alfred had stopped crying but his voice was strained. Even today it was not exactly orthodox.

"I brought it to show him and he looked shocked. He spent the next few hours muttering about some spell. Then one day before we left he asked me to show him the painting again. I did but this time I put it on the table. I thought magic never existed. He told me the truth about Arthur then…He had died three months after the war was over. I was shocked. I found out it was my old regiment that had killed him. I had taught the men how to kill. Now was when Norge told me about the magic. I had never believed in it. But Arthur had. He had used it to try to save himself at the very end, but it didn't work the way it was supposed to. So instead of saving him it cursed him so only his true love could save him." Alfred shook his head.

"I told him there was no such thing as magic. He grew angry at this and told me I was the only one that could save Arthur. He pointed to the painting and said that this was proof that I was the Painter. To this day I still don't know what he meant. But that's when the painting kinda exploded. He screamed and I was pulled into the blast of paint. Nothing was left but a bit of the frame. He then went to England and built the manor. I only know this because of what he did. He enchanted the house so I could travel between all of my paintings, which he had placed in the house. I had been trapped in the painting because of my crimes against magic. By not believing it I only aided Arthur's curse. He died and it was my fault." Now Alfred was crying quite openly. He couldn't stop the tears. It had been years since he even thought about the painful truth.

"I can't even think about my past without crying" Alfred said hopelessly. That's when Arthur reacted (our Arthur my lovelies). He pulled the American towards him and hugged him. It was awkward since Alfred was leaning down crying into his shoulder but it felt like the right thing to do. He had seen this kind of sadness only in stories and his own life. Never had a person trusted him enough to break down in front of him. He was touched that Alfred was that open. It hurt him to see him this sad.

"it's ok…" Arthur said patting Alfred's back. "You're not the only one."

"I just-" Alfred stopped as he realized he was crying openly on a completely stranger. Well maybe not complete but he still hardly knew him. "I'm sorry"

"Don't be I understand" Arthur said nodding. He did understand. "But now I have a few questions"

"Ask away" Alfred said bitterly. He had told him everything. He just felt empty.

"If Norge is from your time how is he still giving you food?"

"He's a fucking sorcerer he lives a long time."

"Okay one other thing…"

"what?" Alfred was tired. He had just poured his heart out.

"What was Arthur's last name?"

"Uh…Kirkland Arthur Kirkland" Alfred said blinking. He hadn't been expecting that.

"weird…" Arthur said shaking his head.

"What's weird?"

"Nothing…we should probably head back. I would like to talk more but its cold here." Arthur said shivering slightly.

"Right" Alfred said standing up and offering Arthur his hand. Arthur took it and soon the two were back in the study.

"So you paint?" Arthur asked sitting in the chair opposite Alfred.

"Yeah I don't have much else to do so I started painting everything I could remember." Alfred shrugged.

"Could I see some of them?"

"Sure!" Alfred had gotten some of his enthusiasm back. Arthur was interested in art! Maybe he could teach him to paint! Alfred walked over to the pile of papers and such behind him and pulled out several canvases.

"Wow!" Arthur said at the beautiful landscapes and pretty sunsets.

"Thanks but these aren't my best" Alfred chuckled.

"Then what are?" Arthur asked cocking his head.

"um well…" Alfred shifted nervously.

"What?"

"Well I um I erm" Alfred was rather flustered now.

"What?!" Arthur really wanted to know.

"er well they're kinda not exactly pg…"Alfred said blushing.

"Art never is" Arthur said rolling his eyes. He had gone to a college with plenty of art. Hell he'd posed for some even. He would never admit it was him in the painting but he had.

"Okay…" Alfred said pulling out his favourite. It was an amazing painting. It really was. Every shape was perfect and every colour the right shade. But what made it less than pg was the subject. It was a man dancing around a bar with nothing an apron. It was only one that covered his er nether regions, but he was dancing so it showed off his body elegantly. To say the least. He was pale but he didn't look sickly. His hair was disheveled and looked like hands had run through it. He had lipstick on his check and a wild grin. Probably drunk and lucky.

"Who is that?" Arthur said holding back a fit of laughter. In the painting the man's head was turned to the side like he was yelling at the bartender.

"That would be Arthur Kirkland" Alfred chuckled. It was kinda nervous but he had said a few minutes ago that he'd fallen for him.

"Well he seems like a fun drunk."

"He was but only if he got really drunk. At first he would be a depressing drunk." Alfred said holding back laughter. "He wasn't allowed back in the pub after this. And he wouldn't show his face on that street for a year after this happened."

"Almost as bad as me" Arthur (again our Arthur) said smiling. Oh the stories he could tell.

"Oh really?" Alfred said raising an eyebrow.

"Last Halloween I woke up in the middle of nowhere wearing only an angel costume, which consisted of wings and a tunic. No pants." Arthur said shaking his head at the memory. He had also had a sore arse but that's not the point.

"Sounds like fun" Alfred chuckled. He was surprised at Arthur's acceptance of him being gay. "Um Arthur…"

"Yes?" Arthur asked as he leaned against the wall.

"Well I never got to ask yesterday and I kinda have to wonder…Is it normally, like now, for people to be gay?" Alfred rushed his words. He felt like he was going to die of embarrassment.

"It depends. Some people are some aren't. Some people hate it, most aren't stupid enough to think it a sin. The world is moving past it. I know quite a few people who swing both ways" Arthur shrugged.

"And you?" Alfred said stepping a little away as not to scare the other man. He didn't want him getting the wrong idea.

"what about me?" Arthur asked raising an eyebrow. An enormous eyebrow.

"Are you gay?" Alfred blurted out. God that was rude.

"Yes I like men. I've been with women but I've always liked men better" Arthur shrugged. To him it wasn't a big deal*.

"Okay so is that why you were so accepting of my er past feelings?"

"Gays couldn't be a new thing. I figured they've been around for hundreds of years."

"That's a good point…"

"Actually I know for a fact there were because otherwise Victorian London would have been a much different place" Arthur said with a smile. "Ever heard of fancy dress parties?"

"yeah actually I have" Alfred laughed. He'd been to one before. He hadn't participated in the costumes but Arthur had. He'd made a convincing girl.

"Well If that's a thing I'm sure gays existed then, too"*

"Probably" Alfred smiled. It was nice to think that maybe it was society not him that was wrong.

"Anyway…" Arthur drifted off as he spotted a blank canvas. "What are you going to paint?"

"Hm?" Arthur pointed to the black canvas. "I haven't had the inspiration to for awhile…"

"I'd love to see you paint. People change when they do something they're passionate about."

"Well…If you want I could paint you" Alfred offered. In truth he wanted to. Arthur was handsome even if he didn't think so. He never thought he was ugly but he didn't consider himself handsome.

"S Sure" Arthur said blushing. The last time he had posed for a painting it had been less pg than the picture of the other Arthur.

"Okay Artie!" Alfred chimed happily grabbing the things he would need. "Just give me a second."

'Right…and my names Arthur git" Arthur said trying to snap, but it he had been smiling so his words lost the menace.

"whatever Artie~" Alfred setting up his canvas on an easel. He walked over to Arthur and stared at him for a moment.

"What?" Arthur said blushing. To modern standards he was basically being 'checked out' and he would have hit Alfred had he not been doing it simply for art.

"Well I'm not sure how I should pose you…I know!" Alfred smiled at the last part and ran off to the pile of paper and other random objects. He came back holding a book. "Just sit and pretend to read." Alfred said pulling the chair out so he would sit. Arthur did as he was told. He was sitting back in the chair with his feet on a stack of other books slightly crossed holding the book just below his face when Alfred was finally satisfied.

"Okay it won't take me long to sketch it" Alfred said grabbing charcoal and quickly drawing the scene before him. He soon had a good sketch and all he needed to do now was paint it. Which would take quite some time. Arthur seemed comfortable enough so he started to mix the paints and paint he background.

While Alfred was focused on him Arthur studied the man. He was attractive, but that wasn't a new thought. He felt sorry for him. He had been trapped here, but he actually thought he deserved it. He hadn't been the one to cast the bloody spell. It had been Arthur's fault for trying to use magic. But he had been guilty of hurting him. No denying that. If he had told him the truth about his feelings things could have been good. But how could he actually except it. Back then it was punishable by death. He didn't blame Alfred for what he did. It was a bad time for such a romance.

However one thing did bother Arthur. He had the same ruddy name as the other man. Kirkland wasn't exactly the rarest name, but how many Arthur Kirklands could use magic. Well see magic in the very least. Arthur was convinced he had seen it as a child. And that he might be using it, not on purpose, to enter the painting. It worried him. Too many coincidences.

"Are you almost done?" Arthur asked. He was tired of staring at the same bloody page. It must have been at least an hour.

"I'm just painting it so if you want it to be incorrect…" Alfred drifted off. That was entirely untrue. He had a photographic memory so he could easily just paint the scene from memory. But he was enjoying watching Arthur too much to do that.

"Fine just bloody hurry"

"Okay~"

This gave Arthur more time to think though. He decided he wanted to free Alfred. He owed him that. 'Wait what? Why do I owe him?' Maybe Arthur was going loopy. He decided to forget the whole matter and actually read the book Alfred had given him. It was a romance or at least this page was.

'I am yours. You gave me all so I am yours.'

'Do not pledge yourself to me. I am not a part of love. A simple dreamer lost out of their world. Forever trapped by such wonderful dreams.'

'I am your painter! I shall give you the world you deny yourself! Let the world be an option!'

Arthur stopped when he realized it had said painter. 'I am your painter' What did that mean? Norge had called Alfred the painter. Who was the dreamer? What did any of this mean.

"Alfred have you read this?"

"Hm? Most of it but I didn't really like it so I stopped after the first fight."

"Do you mind if I borrow it?"

"Sure~"

The next few minutes consisted of Arthur staring at the page in the hope that it would give away it's secrets. However it didn't. It only left him feeling more and more confused. By the time Alfred said he could move Arthur had a headache. He was also very stiff from being in the same position for a good three hours.

"What ya think?" Alfred said as Arthur got up to look at the painting. Arthur's jaw dropped. This one was better even than the picture of the past Arthur. It was definitely Arthur sitting reading, but it almost seemed magical. Alfred had added light coming from a candle on a pile of books beside Arthur. It gave Arthur a mysterious look as he read. The shadows lurked behind him making strange shapes suggesting monsters but not enough for there to be anything there. It also made Arthur handsome. Now as I've said before he doesn't consider himself ugly but still. This man was more than handsome he was beautiful.

"It's amazing but that can't be me" Arthur said shaking his head in denial.

"I paint what I see" Alfred said shrugging. Arthur glanced up at him and suddenly reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you" Arthur said smiling. He was probably blushing slightly but not as much as Alfred.

"N no problem."

"I better get going" Arthur said grabbing the picnic basket and running to his exit. "See you tomorrow!"

"See you Artie!" Alfred said happily. But as soon as Arthur left... "Did he just kiss me?" To say he was shocked would be an understatement. What worried him though was the warm feeling he got when he had. He wanted Arthur to kiss him again and again.

"Nope stranger danger" Alfred muttered walking off to his bedroom to get some sleep before he thought about it too much.

What he missed though was the light in the window/painting that Norge always gave him food through. He missed the still young looking man smiling at the new painting. His best piece. Well so far... Not to mention that Arthur had managed to find the first piece of the puzzle. It's funny it took Arthur three days to find it when Alfred hadn't found it in two hundreds years. Sad really.

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*Arthur's opinion on gay rights is basically mine. I may like guys but you don't have to. Or if you do yay for you! It really doesn't matter!

*I have the same theory. Actually Victorian London fascinates me so fancy dress parties are just the bare minimum of what happened back then. Oh the crazy Victorian times...

Okay before I say anything else. I'm sooooo sorry for making a horrible American mistake. I said the car was an American invention. I kinda knew it wasn't but I wasn't really thinking about it when I wrote it. In fact it was a German invention. Ford just helped out with the assembly line stuff. Thank you sooo much to the reader who saw that.

What you guys think? Not that much to Alfred's back story, but I don't want this too much about his past. I'm a future thinker so I tend not to dwell on the past. Okay not true. not on my past. I love history!

As always please review and follow and blah blah blah...

So for a prize...what references have I made so far? I don't even know so whoever get's the most wins! Also why you people no review! I know your reading it *glare* Seriously I don't know what to do without your reviews!

Hope you're enjoying the cliffy hangings!

(Radioactive)

-Red