(Acknowledgements: Thank you Arya Scarlett 15, Dangara 2610, The Story Siren, Pholly-Da, and NyleveLlom for your lovely reviews)
Impossible Victory
Moving by instinct, Alfred shoved Matthew aside at the same time he slashed down with his sword; his poorly-woven shield shattered on impact with Gilbert's attack, both flashing brightly. It was enough to divert it searing past Alfred and disappearing into the fog.
"Mattie, run!" Alfred yelled, grabbing his brother's sleeve and dragging him to his feet. "Go!"
His shocked brother didn't move.
"There's nowhere to run," Gilbert said, feinting an attack. Alfred tensed; Gilbert laughed.
While Alfred panted and struggled to stand, Gilbert looked like he hadn't even broken a sweat. How much power did he have? "Dammit, Mattie! Get out of here! I can't fight if you're here!"
"I can h-help," Matthew said, looking about to pass out.
"No, you can't! You've no weapon! You're too drained. Use your head!" Alfred snapped, shifting his gaze enough to briefly lock eyes with his brother. In a lower voice, he added, "Back me up, Mattie."
Finally, Matthew got the message. He nodded and took off, stumbling into the mists. Another slash whirred at him and Alfred narrowly deflected it.
"Gil, this is between you and me!" Alfred said, blinking the sweat out of his eyes, trying not to show how exhausted he was. He swallowed hard, throat feeling dry as a bone. It was hard to stay focused. He drew on what remained of the magic in his jeweled pommel. There was maybe enough for one more shield. Maybe.
Gilbert's glared fixed solely on Alfred and he began to circle him. Alfred kept his blade raised at an angle between them as his former teacher eyed him up and down, sizing him up.
The sword, that Gilbert held with one hand, was clearly meant as a two-handed weapon, yet the Prussian held it with ease. He tapped the tip lazily to Alfred's, a metal sound ringing out. Then he lowered, it shaking his head.
"My, my, you've grown tall. You were a beanpole once."
"And you've gotten ugly as fuck and a lot less awesome," Alfred spat.
"Not possible." Gilbert chuckled. As he went round Alfred, he steadily grew closer and glided his blade against Alfred's tip, in almost a loving manner. "When I've finished with you, I'll hunt your brother down and have fun with him."
"You won't touch him!" Alfred cried, batting away Gilbert's blade, he stepped forward to slash downward and crack open Gilbert's head. However, Gilbert backed out of the downward arc with ease and knocked Alfred's blade to the ground, stepped on it, holding it there, and then stepped in, elbowing Alfred in the face so hard Alfred fell backwards onto the ground.
For a moment, stars danced in his vision. A trickle of blood ran from his nostril into his mouth. He scrambled to his feet, eyeing his sword, sure this was the end as Gilbert bent down and picked it up. To his astonishment, Gilbert held it out to Alfred handle first.
"Well, go on. Take it," Gilbert said. Alfred looked unsure. "I won't kill you yet. I want to play first."
Snatching the blade's handle, Alfred quickly backed up a couple steps, wiping blood of his upper lip. "You always did fight dirty."
"Al," Gilbert tutted, circling him again. "I keep telling you there is no such thing as a clean fight. You fight to win or you die. Consider this our final lesson. What do you say we duel without magic?"
"Why?" Alfred asks suspiciously. His eyes narrowed. He didn't trust Gilbert not to cheat, but he couldn't take more of those blasts.
"Because I'm awesome like that. And what choice do you have? You're dead already," Gilbert said.
"Fine," Alfred said. "No magic."
Mattie, hurry up," he thought. He needed to stall.
"Why are you doing this Gilbert? Weren't we like family?"
"Family? Ha!" Gilbert threw back his head, laughing. His eyes glowed that wicked read. "None of your family knows the meaning of that word. Loyalty escapes you."
"Gil! It was an accident! I'd have switched with Eliza—."
Gilbert darted forward slashing upward, almost knocking Alfred's blade from his hand and stabbed at Alfred's throat. It was only by instinct that Alfred dodged right, the cold steel edge of the Gram grazing his throat, and leap back a foot. Gilbert reverted to his casual stance, as if none of that happened.
Alfred touched his throat, eyes widening to touched a thin line of blood. He had almost died just then. This wasn't entirely play. Gilbert intended to kill him.
"Consider that a warning," Gilbert said darkly. They circled each other, assessing one another for an opening. "If you ever speak her name with that foul tongue of yours, I will rip it out and make a coat from your skin. You shouldn't be alive. That's the accident."
Gilbert tapped their tips together, beginning to feint and test Alfred's reactions. He was trying to get into Alfred's head, confuse him. And it was working.
"What's the matter, Al? Did the widdle hero prince never fight for real?" Gilbert taunted. He knew Alfred hadn't. No one had wanted to endanger their Prince.
In any fight, you must choose to attack or defend, Gilbert had once said. If you attack you must move faster, you have to confuse your opponent. If he knows your attack, you are dead.
Alfred hoped Matthew wouldn't let him down.
"Big man," Alfred taunted. "Fighting with a godcraft! How'd you manage that trick?"
"None of your business." Gilbert grinned coldly. "The better question is how did I find you? You can thank your father for that. He'll be joining you soon in the afterlife."
Alfred went cold inside. "Wh-what do you mean?"
"I needed his blood to track you. You know the spell. And he tried so hard to get you to safety."
"As if you could defeat him!" Alfred shouted. Even if with a godcraft, Alfred wanted to say, but he wasn't so confident of that. "You're lying!"
"Am I?" Gilbert started to moving faster around and more erratically, setting Alfred on edge. "I could've killed him. But I wanted him to first know what it feels like to lose everyone you love."
"I don't believe you!" Alfred said, shaking his head. "It's not possible! The Ax w—."
"—is dead. And so is Lord Lukas," Gilbert finished, leaving Alfred's head spinning. No. It couldn't be true. "They fell attempting to protect your precious Grisholm Castle. Oh, you haven't heard? Word doesn't travel fast out here I guess."
"Liar!" Alfred roared, lunging forward, bringing his blade down. The sound of steel rang out as Gilbert parried with the flat of his blood. Alfred shoved, thrusting and slashing, trying to get a hit. "Shut up! Just shut up!"
Suddenly, Gilbert sidestepped and the force of Alfred's momentum sent him forward, exposing his back. Gilbert painfully grabbed Alfred's nape and body-slammed Alfred onto his knee. It smashed hard, knocking the air from Alfred who crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.
"Pathetic," Gilbert sneered, using his boot's heel to shove Alfred onto his side and then kicked him relentlessly in his ribcage, hitting the broken one repeatedly until he felt another crack. More spots danced in Alfred's vision. He tasted blood in his mouth.
Stepping away, Gilbert pointed the tip of the Gram at Alfred who froze, sure this was the end. I'm sorry, Mattie. Lukas, the Ax, and his home could not be gone. He refused to believe it.
And he tried so hard to get you away from me, those words echoed in Alfred's mind, too painful to dwell on.
"Get up," Gilbert ordered. "Pick up your blade and get up."
Alfred slammed his hand into the ground and forced himself up, blinded by pain. Somehow he stood, wiping blood from his chin with the back of his hand, and lifted his sword.
"Ungh," Alfred gurgled, breathing incredibly difficult. The sword shook in his grip as he pointed it toward Gilbert. He could not hold it steady.
"You were an awful student," Gilbert said. "What did I say about letting an opponent in your head?"
"You were… an… awful teacher," Alfred wheezed, each word a struggle.
"I'm bored," Gilbert said with a heavy sigh. He lifted the blade up; it hummed white, drawing in for a large attack — one Alfred had no chance to stop. "You won't dodge this."
Alfred's eyes widened and —
From behind Gilbert surged a succession of blue bolts. The first knocked the Gram from his hand and he cried out in pain, and the others forced Gilbert to retreat away a couple paces.
Good work, Mattie!
His brother had found Kiku's katana and managed to almost hit Gilbert. His brother had aimed where he felt the magic being drawn.
Using his chance, Alfred darted in and grabbed the Gram, holding it up and backing away; it tingled in his arm. Fury etched Gilbert's features, then suddenly he grinned and returned to that relaxed posture. "Clever. However, the Gram will not work for you. I'm its master."
"I see," Alfred said and then spun around and released it flying in the direction of the river. He heard a satisfying ker-plunk. "Hope you can swim, asshole. You've no source."
A muscle twitched in Gilbert's cheek and he started to laugh — cackle — and then breathed in and out very deeply. "Now you've done it." His voice sounded like steel hidden by silk. "You think I can be separated so easily from the Gram's magic? Idiot."
And in a blur of motion, faster than a human should be able to move, Gilbert was suddenly in front of Alfred. Everything happened in slow motion as Gilbert put his palm against Alfred's abdomen.
Just as Gilbert said, "Goodbye, Al," there was a blinding flash that shot from Gilbert's hand at point-blank range. In that fleeting instance, Alfred realized how much Gilbert had been toying with him.
Letting him have a speck of hope only to crush it.
The explosive force blew a hole through Alfred, sending his innards out and while he did not look directly down, or even feel pain from it — his mind refusing to feel it — there was awareness. A terrible awareness of emptiness where his insides should have been.
The force of the blast flung Alfred's backwards, off his feet. Gilbert's leering face shrunk, faded, and vanished into the mist. Alfred rocketed backwards, skidding across grass, across water, like a skipping stone. He landed with a splash.
For a moment he lay there; his insides flooding with river water. Words he could never say bottled in his throat as he thought of Matthew, of his home, and the father he would never see again. In all the grand adventures he had planned, death had never factored in.
Somewhere in his flight, he had lost his sword. He didn't know where, but it was no longer in his hand. His legs no longer obeyed and he could not feel them.
The weight of his armor dragged him down, the cool water devouring him. The grey sky seemed to come through a fractured pane of glass as he sunk. So far, so beautiful. Never to be seen again.
Pressure built in his ears. Silver bubbles trailed from his mouth. Down, down he went until he hit bottom, landing among the stalks of seaweed, kicking up silty puffs. He raised a hand toward the surface, thinking of his poor brother who was up there playing cat and mouse with a madman.
The river bottom would be Alfred's grave. The fish would nibble his corpse. How he regretted not being kinder to his brother. How he regretted never hugging his father and at least saying, 'I love you' even if the man ignored it. So many regrets.
His blood stained the water dark around him.
I'm sorry, Mattie. This is goodbye, he thought, shutting his eyes.
Love, it's time, said a musical voice in his head.
His eyes popped open, startled to see that ghostly face hovering over him. Arthur! He realized, eyes widening. A burst of bubbles spewed from his mouth as he tried to speak.
Save my brother! I beg you! I'll do anything! He tried to say.
Arthur floated towards him, hair floating about his head. With soft, cool hands, he cupped Alfred's cheeks, smirking, and brought their faces together.
Alfred went rigid in shock as those cold lips pressed to his, swallowing his pleas, forcing his mouth to open wider in a needy kiss. Soothing energy coursed down his throat from the nymph.
Those emerald's eyes shut. One of Arthur's hands strokes the side of Alfred's head like a lover might and the other crept around to the nape, forcing Alfred's face closer into a deeper kiss.
He didn't know if it was the strange magic invading him or Arthur himself, but Alfred tasted mint. Waves of dizziness racked him and his eyelids started to droop.
The kiss felt so soft, so comforting.
No, Mattie, part of him cried.
He grabbed weakly at the nymph's wrists in an attempt to pry Arthur off. Arthur held firm, ravishing Alfred's lips, forcing more power down his throat.
The Kingdom can save you, Arthur said.
But Mattie…Alfred thought.
Shadows and ice engulfed him. With their cold touch his mind fell away, down into an abyss. His last fleeting sensation was the touch of Arthur's skin, and Alfred's own clenched fingers loosening and falling away from Arthur's wrists.
Then he was lost.
Next Time:
In a place neither here nor there, full of shadows and decay, Alfred wakes. A boy who struggles to remember his own name awaits to lead Alfred to Arthur.
TBC in… "The Kingdom"
(What you've all waited for is nearly here. *whew* Only took almost 18,000 words to set things up. But once we're here lots of UK/US goodness will follow. Lots and lots I swear! I think I'm gonna take a bit of a break from this story to work on some things I've been neglecting. But don't worry I will be back to this!)