Oh wow, chapter 10 would you look at that.

Chapter title is dedicated to my beta who kept repeating doki doki the whole time I was writing this.

Darkness smeared in front of Antonio's vision. It dribbled over his senses and filled his body with leaden heaviness. He couldn't open his eyes or scream against the pain that throbbed through his skull. All of his strength was not enough to force his eyelids open. He had to know where he was. His heart thudded with restless uneasiness that whispered of danger. He should fight. The phantom sensation of Maricel slid along his palm, but the weapon was not there.

"Heal him!" Antonio forced his heart to calm down at the sound of a voice. "I swear to everything if he dies…" A loud crash interrupted and the pounding in his ears drowned out the world around him.

Antonio slipped further away.

"He's not strong enough yet."

A voice startled him. Had someone been talking? Why couldn't he open his eyes? Panic hammered through his chest.

"I don't care about this cursed universe! Let it burn! If you don't do something right now I'm going to..." A shout echoed around him. Antonio flinched. Fear clawed through him. He couldn't open his eyes, he couldn't move, he couldn't do anything. What was happening? Was this a friend or an enemy?

"There is nothing I can do." The voice said much calmer this time.

"There is nothing you want to do."

White hot pain sliced through his head and he could finally move. His body writhed under the onslaught. His mouth opened and his own screams filled his ears. Shudders made him curl on himself. Sweat gathered on his skin and he was sure that if the pain didn't finish him the cold would.

"He's stable."

He didn't feel stable at all. He felt like he had to hold on to the bed or else he would fall through. Antonio gasped. Cold water filled his lungs, dragging him down below. His arms and legs wouldn't move. He was drowning.

"If he continues to improve I will help him." A pause.

"He made it this far. He will make it through."

A hand rested on his forehead, pulling Antonio from the deep waters. It had been just a memory. He wasn't drowning anymore. He was fine.

Relief and exhaustion claimed him.

"I can't heal him completely. That's all I can do for now."

It was heat that finally made Antonio blearily blink awake. There was a fireplace burning not far away and a person wrapped around him. The brunette groaned, pulling away the heavy blankets that had tangled around him during the night. That allowed him to breathe and he closed his eyes. The room remained cool despite the fire. The air chilled his skin and he sighed in content.

A groan of protest made him look to his side. Arthur wrapped himself tighter around him. Antonio rolled his eyes and reached for the blankets to tuck them around the blond. He kissed the sleeping man and settled down on the bed.

Arthur opened his eyes when he felt Antonio move against him. He was met with a sleepy green gaze and a smile blossomed on his lips.

"You're awake." He murmured. Relief and intense happiness spilled through him at the frown that adorned Antonio's face.

Lips pressed into his and Antonio returned the kiss. Fingers entwined in his hair. Arthur laughed softly against his mouth. The blond was acting horribly wrong. The whole situation didn't sit well with him. This room wasn't right. They hadn't shared it since Mary had passed away so long ago. The last time he had seen Arthur they had been sitting in a modern World Meeting room with buzzing laptops and vibrating phones.

Antonio sat up and Arthur followed. There was also the matter of a certain Italian that was more than a protectorate to him these days. A lot had changed since they had left that room in 1558 fully prepared to never return. So why were they here now?

"You don't remember." Arthur stated from next to him and he was right. Antonio didn't. What was there to remember? "Antonio, you made a wish to the Britannica Angel. You brought us here."

"Where is here?" The brunette asked. No, he didn't remember making any wishes to the Angel. Was this another one of Arthur's tricks? He wouldn't put it past the blond. But what would that achieve?

"An alternative universe." Arthur's smile became crooked. It made goosebumps rise on Antonio's skin. The expression looked completely wrong on the blond's face. "You were feeling a bit nostalgic for the old days."

"I don't remember."

Arthur face twisted in a slight frown and that Antonio could accept. It sat much more naturally on that face that had never known how to smile.

"You honestly don't remember?" The brit leaned close, worry deepening his frown. That was an even worse expression on Arthur. "You got your arse pissed and dragged us here."

That finally coaxed a memory out of his foggy brain. He remembered the taste of rum and the slay of a ship. The roar of canons and the burn of fire. But that had happened to him so many times it meant nothing. He looked up at Arthur and the light of the fire played with blond locks. Gold. He remembered the glint of gold in an empty World Meeting room and Arthur far too close to him to be safe. Everything about them was dangerous. Things had spiralled out of control in the blink of an eye.

"The Armada…" Antonio's hand flew to his head where pain throbbed softly. His fingers found bandages that were dirty with his own dried blood. He had sailed to London. He hadn't been given a choice. Arthur had harmed the one person he should had never even thought about hurting. He couldn't remember anything after that. How had he gotten to London? How had he gotten hurt?

"Hey!" Arthur grabbed Antonio's hand and yanked it away. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Their eyes met and another piece of memory clicked in his head. Arthur laying underneath him, smug and arrogant, as he staked his claim on Antonio.

The brunette swallowed. He didn't have any of that white hot anger left in him. Just a painful mix of emotions that he was too exhausted to detangle. He pushed it aside to concentrate on the one thing he was certain about.

"I was going to kill you." Antonio stated, but that still didn't answer his questions. The longer he thought about it the more he had. What had happened with the Armada?

"Hardly your first attempt." The corners of Arthur's mouth lifted up in a barely there smile. It was unsettling Antonio. There was something he was forgetting. Something that would explain the blond's weird behaviour. He was coming up empty.

"What happened after that?" He finally asked.

Arthur took a deep breath. What happened after that was a blur of panic and blood. He never wanted to see a single drop of Antonio's blood ever again. He still had no idea why Antonio was awake and talking with him, but he could only guess that the Devil took care of his own.

"You were wounded and fell overboard." That was the short and sweet truth. He couldn't handle telling Antonio how desperate he had been to see those green eyes look at him again. His entire body had been shaking as he had cut off a piece of Antonio's skull and dug through his brains to find bullet fragments. He doubted he could ever tell the man sitting in front of him that.

"Thank you." Antonio said quietly. Arthur must have fished him out of the water and brought him here. His fingers picked on the embroidered sheets. His thoughts went back to that final scene in a vain attempt to remember what came next. But that meant that Arthur's words played in his head over and over again. With them came all the reasons why the blond had said them. Antonio didn't want to think about that. This whole thing had been one big mistake. He wished they could just forget about it and pretend it never happened. "I'm tired."

Arthur watched as Antonio turned his back on him. His eyes narrowed. Thank you didn't mean much when he was given the cold shoulder right after that. He had gone far too deep to allow this and if Antonio thought he could ignore everything that happened he was dead wrong.

"I'm going to let you sleep, but there is one thing you need to know before you get any ideas into that thick skull of yours. I meant every word I said on the deck."

He received no response and that was fine by him. For now.

Antonio's eyes snapped open at that sentence. His heart hammered in his chest. He could have asked Arthur what the fuck was that supposed to mean, but almost dying hadn't changed the blond's mind. Another question wasn't about to either. He knew from experience that the brit was like a dog with a bone. Once he had made up his mind very little could change it. The centuries between them, the wars and their young lovers certainly hadn't. Antonio, however, had changed his mind. He had moved on. He loved Romano.

His breath hitched at the memory of his love. Arthur had been right about one thing. Being here hurt Romano. Antonio should be at home with him, so why was he here, sharing a bed with Arthur of all people? What had he been thinking? He hadn't been thinking apparently. Alcohol had clouded his judgement. That had to be it. There was no other explanation to his current situation. He should say the words the Angel had instructed him and take them to their universe. Seeing Alfred had to remind Arthur how wrong all of this was.

Yet, he found himself sitting on that very same bed the next morning. Arthur was unwrapping his bandages gingerly and Antonio wanted to be anywhere, but there. The blond's fingers were almost gentle as they pulled at the threads. His face twisted with unnatural concern and concentration. Expression that had rarely been directed his way. It made Antonio cringe with discomfort. It made him think that maybe Arthur meant everything he had said and hadn't said everything he meant. That was never a good thing when the Brit was concerned. Arthur's unsaid thoughts had always been like hidden daggers eager for blood.

"It's healing well." The blond said. Cool hands cupped Antonio's face and tilted it to the side, so Arthur could take a better look.

"You never said how I got hurt." The Spaniard stated absentmindedly and reached for the naked wound.

Arthur slapped the hand away. Antonio couldn't know how close to the other side he had been. That was certainly going to raise questions he couldn't yet answer.

"Don't touch. You'll infect it. I'm doing all I can, but according to the latest medical innovations I should give you vinegar and make you smell roses and lavender…" Arthur trailed off. He wasn't sure if he should thank or curse the Angel. He doubted Antonio would have made it through if the damned thing hadn't decided to come off its high horse and help. Then again they wouldn't have been in that fucked up situation if it hadn't been for the Angel.

"Why not put some oil on it as well? Just to make sure." Antonio quipped.

"I can just call for the doctor if you would prefer I leave you in the capable hands of a real specialist." Arthur said dryly. He gently pressed a clean cloth, drenched in water and yes, vinegar, to the edges of the wound. Antonio hissed at the sting, but otherwise remained still. The blond had had to fight his way through the maids and Elizabeth when he had tried to do the ludicrous thing of boiling water to clean Antonio's wounds. All the while the doctor had stood to the side, shaking his side and explaining to anyone who would listen what a miracle it was that the Spaniard was alive. The Devil must truly love him. God wouldn't allow it.

"Or maybe we can just go back to our universe where I can get proper help." Antonio said and Arthur went cold at that one sentence.

He had already decided that he wouldn't beg Antonio for attention. Even he had his limits. If the brunette didn't want to see reason that was a problem, but Arthur wasn't about to grovel. His lips pressed harder together. He had always known that Antonio was a stubborn bastard he had just never had the chance to taste it quite like that.

"If you want to run then you are free to do so. Just admit it." He said and maybe some of his bitterness creeped in his voice. He squeezed the cloth hard.

"I want to get well." Antonio gritted through his teeth. Yes, maybe he wanted to get away from Arthur, but who wouldn't after the mess they had made? Those careful touches certainly weren't helping. "If that makes me a coward in your eyes then I don't care."

Arthur hummed in response. He wouldn't grovel, but he wasn't letting go of Antonio either. If that meant playing dirty then so be it. It wouldn't be the worst thing they had done to each other.

Antonio seethed silently as the other dressed the wound. He was no coward. He had nothing to run away from. It was Arthur who had unresolved issues and was dragging him into it. Antonio had just wanted some fun. The ship tilting beneath his feet and the cannons singing as he sunk an English ship. The satisfaction would have never been complete without looking Arthur, the real Arthur, in the eyes and proclaiming victory. That was what this was about. Not whatever twisted version of reality the brit had gotten into his head.

Antonio did not have feelings for Arthur. At least nothing that could remotely be considered love. He loved Romano now. Romano who was waiting for him.

That night Arthur didn't come back to bed with him. He didn't come back on the next one either. The blond came in just to redress his wound and remained silent for the most part. The only things he mumbled were small words, heavy with relief and gentleness. Everything was healing just fine. Antonio wasn't so sure. His nights were restless, haunted by the cold depths of the English Channel. His waking moments were punctuate by the sharp pain splitting his head. It was strongest in the small hours of the night when the castle had gone completely silent. That was when the room filled with the ghosts of a past, they had buried.

Phillip hadn't been in love with Mary, that much everyone knew. But that hadn't stopped Antonio from being madly in love with Arthur. He still remembered the Queen's dejected face every time he came alone. He visited England far more often than his King ever did. Back then he just hadn't been able to stay away. Each time he had ended up in this same room, pressed against a surface, any surface, a hungry mouth eating at his and his own hands, desperate tugging at Arthur's clothes.

It hadn't been just the passion they had shared in here. It had also been tender kisses and secret smiles. It was in a bathtub in that very same room that they had celebrated Mary's pregnancy. A bottle of the best wine available in the kingdom. It was also here that they had licked their wounds and told each other that not all was lost when it all turned out to be false.

One crown, two kingdoms…

Antonio stood up. He was still shaky on his feet. He slept too much and lost orientation too often. Someone had really done a trick on him and he couldn't remember a thing. He wobbled towards the mirror. He had tried to steal a glance while Arthur tended him, but the mirror had been moved. It used to look directly at the bed. A sour smile tugged at his lips. His broken mind was dead set on torturing him. Arthur had looked exquisite, pale lithe body arching under his hands and emerald eyes darkened with heat. The mirror had offered a view like nothing else could.

The heavy wooden frame screeched when he pushed it. Colourful spots danced in front of his eyes in protest, but Antonio refused to listen. He pushed harder, turning the mirror towards the bed. He stopped to take a breath and make sure that it was at just the right angle. Cold sweat had dampened his skin. It needed to be moved just a little bit more.

Pathetic. He crumbled in a heap on the floor, trying hard to catch his breath. He was so fucking pathetic. He didn't want to sleep on that bed. Not when he could still remember everything that had ever been reflected in the mirror.

Antonio groaned loudly at the offending noise that violated his ears. He cracked his eyes open to see Arthur, bathed in daylight, pushing the mirror back in its previous position. The bastard had always been keen on ruining his plans.

"Get up." Arthur reached for him and Antonio grabbed the offered hand. He was slowly guided towards the bed. Antonio had to grit his teeth. He still didn't want anything to do with it or that room. Even seeing the blond was too much, but he was not about to admit it. "What were you doing on the floor?"

"I think I fainted. You shouldn't worry too much about it, it's normal, isn't it?" Antonio said airily. Arthur sighed deeply.

"You're wounded, Antonio. I'm not making this up. If you don't believe me that's alright, but you do realize that you are wounded, right? You shouldn't overexert yourself."

"I should have been a lot better by now." Antonio stated and it was true. This was taking far too long to be normal.

"We're in a different universe. The connection to our people is very weak."

"That's why you were still bleeding in the cell!" Antonio exclaimed, realization hitting him over the head. Back then he hadn't even stopped to think about it. He had been far too bend over winning a game that made him squirm with uneasiness now.

"Yes." Arthur responded simply and Antonio was glad that the blond didn't elaborate. "Any fever?"

"None that I can-" Antonio's mouth snapped shut when the brit leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. His heart fluttered at the contact and he pulled away abruptly. "¡¿Qué coño crees que estás haciendo?!" ["What the fuck do you think you're doing?!]

"No fever." Arthur stated calmly. "But you need a bath. Badly."

"¡Jodete!"

"I'll have the maids prepare one for you." The blond announced and Antonio was torn between kicking the other out of the room and being grateful. He really did need a bath. Fingers grabbed him by the chin and he let his head be tilted to the side without protesting. "It looks like there hasn't been any bleeding, so I'll let it rest for now. Just don't get your head wet."

It wasn't that much later that Antonio was soaking in a warm bathtub. He sank deeper into the water, the ends of his hair getting wet. He blew air and made bubbles to entertain himself. There was something that was becoming very obvious to him with each passing day. He might had been given Arthur's room, but he was an enemy and a prisoner. He saw almost no maids and guards brought his food. The blond was the only one that would stay with him for longer than thirty seconds and he wouldn't talk to him. It was starting to drive Antonio crazy.

Left alone with nothing, but his thoughts and memories to entertain him, the headache was eating him alive. He needed a distraction. Even if just for a second. He couldn't get out of the room and no one would talk to him. More bubbles broke the surface of the water. He could just say the words and be done with it. He didn't have to take any of this. Not the boredom and certainly not the silent expectation or gentle worry or care or… he took a deep breath. He needed a distraction even if it came from the one person that was making his world tilt dangerously.

Not that making Arthur spend time with him was easy. For someone that claimed to want him the blond was more than elusive. It was a couple of days later that he finally managed to ask. A simple dinner. That was all. He just needed the company. What he really needed was to go out of this room and clear his head, but that was not an option. He almost didn't believe it when Arthur opened the door that evening. He was carrying a tray of food that was placed in front of Antonio. Arthur sat on the bed next to him without a word.

The silence that followed picked on Antonio's nerves. He had craved conversation, but Arthur wouldn't say anything. He would occasionally turn around to pick a grape or a slice of apple from the tray. Goose bumps rose on Antonio's skin each time their fingers brushed. The blond didn't react. This was even worse than being alone.

"You never told me what happened with the battle." He tried. London had apparently not fallen, so he had lost once again.

"You never asked." Came the quipped reply. Antonio stabbed his meat with the small fork. He should have known that Arthur wouldn't make this easy for him.

"I'm asking now."

Flashing green eyes turned to look at Antonio. That hadn't been a good topic. "Your troops made it as far as Dartford, before they were forced out."

That was what the report had said. At the time Arthur had been too busy putting back together the bloody mess that had been Antonio's brain to participate. Dartford was far too close to London. In the twenty first century it even lay on the border of his capital. His blood boiled at how close that had been. How far would have they made it had Antonio still been in charge?

"That's…" Antonio trailed off.

"Yes."

The Spaniard pushed around the peas in his plate. There was nothing else he could say. He wasn't about to apologize. Arthur had gotten what he had asked for and Antonio had lost. Again. He couldn't find any of the raging anger or crushing disappointment he had felt the first time. He had lost. Simple as that.

"Elizabeth must be over the moon."

"She's having her portrait done." Arthur agreed. "Even more grandiose than before." He had the feeling that that had something to do with their little exchange in front of her counsellors and ladies in waiting, but no painting would be able to outshine that stain.

"How come I'm sleeping in your bed and not in a cell somewhere?"

"I want you in my bed." Arthur replied and felt Antonio go still next to him. That was also the truth, wasn't it?

"I mean…" The brunette took in a deep breath. "Why am I not locked away?"

"Because I need you." The brit smirked at the other's frown. He was being difficult. He knew that, but Antonio was making it far too easy for him.

"You need me to say the words." The Spaniard stated.

"That too." The blond agreed.

Antonio had to force himself not to smile. It was ridiculous what just a bit of attention after weeks of isolation could do to him. He had to say something. The bastard didn't need to get any more ideas in his head. He was already delusional enough as it was. This was just a simple conversation. Antonio needed to talk to someone or he would go crazy. Arthur could not think it was any more than that. It wasn't.

"I'm sure Elizabeth loves the fact that you're keeping me in your room."

Arthur nonchalantly reached for another piece of fruit. Antonio had a sixth sense for all the questions he shouldn't be asking, didn't he? Skin brushed against skin and the Spaniard pulled his hand a bit too quickly. The blond's attention focused completely on the reaction. He needed to do it again.

"She has vowed herself to her kingdom. She will do as she is asked." Antonio hummed under his breath at that reply. He remembered far too many situations where that had not been the case. Too many times they had followed the word of their monarchs without a single protest. Maybe that was the real reason they were here. Arthur sighed deeply from next to him. "She's no longer alive and you are here."

Antonio looked up at that. His gaze met an unwavering one.

"You miss her." Antonio stated and Arthur huffed in exasperation.

"Of course I miss her. She was…"

"Good Queen Bess." The Spaniard supplied when the other stumbled, unable to find the words. A sour smile tugged at the blond's lips and he turned back towards the fire.

"Maybe… Don't you ever miss him? Philip, I mean."

Antonio's eyes slid towards the fire. There were no answers there. The fleeting play of light and darkness offered nothing.

"I wonder."

At that answer Arthur laughed. He couldn't help it. In hindsight so much had changed. Petty squabbles between kings meant little these days. They had grown so much. At least he liked to think that was the case. They had paid for knowledge with blood. While humans blissfully forgot and died they had to carry the burden of history's lessons. It had been so easy to wage a war five centuries ago. War, back then, was the daily entertainment everyone tuned in to. Even the sea was as good of an opponent as anyone else. Nowadays they made treaties, abandoned old ideas and adopted new ideals in order to avoid wars. Or so he liked to think.

"What?" Antonio scoffed at him.

"Just…" Arthur took in a breath, trying to put everything into words. "Would you fight me again? For God, for faith, for glory?"

"For Henry." The brunette corrected. Elizabeth and Philip might have seen a mirage of glory in that battle, but there hadn't been any in reality. The glory of a country, the glory of God, those things echoed through the centuries and motivated their people. But the two of them, Arthur and Antonio, could see the battle for what it was. Henry's unfinished heritage.

"It was as good of an excuse as any other. At a time when we didn't need any." Arthur shrugged.

Antonio swallowed. For the first time in history there was peace. Tentative, fragile peace. For the first time it seemed like it would hold. Where did that leave them? When war was the norm they had known how to bare their souls and not give anything away. Things were much more complicated now. They sat in meeting rooms and wagered with economics and markets, backed by the unspoken threat of lethal weapons. Battles were won on paper and sneered upon when they turned bloody.

Green eyes met his. His heart sped with an emotion, he'd been trying to silence since Arthur had pressed him against a hard table and showed him the glimmer of gold.

History laughed at him.

Arthur started coming on his own after that. He would sit down by the window to read or eat with Antonio. It was during one of his first visits that he had come in with paper and paint and given it to the brunette, so you wouldn't go crazy. Antonio hadn't known how to express the warmth that was suddenly beating through his heart. He settled for a thank you and a smile. Almost immediately he found out that his hands were shaking and he couldn't make a straight line even if he wanted to. He instinctively reached for the bandages that were still wrapped around his head. It made him wonder once again how badly he had been injured. Had a piece of the deck splintered and jammed itself in his skull?

Antonio looked up at where the brit was reading, but his breath caught in his throat. The sun seeped through delicate curtains and shone on golden locks. It made pale skin seem almost translucent. Antonio's gaze slid down the collar of an open shirt and took in the other's relaxed pose. He wanted to scrap the map he'd been working on, turn the paper around and draw Arthur. The blond looked like one of the many statues that adorned the castle. Soft, eternal, chillingly beautiful.

They spoke a lot or didn't speak at all. At the end of the day it didn't matter which one they did. The silence was just as meaningful as the words they exchanged. Arthur liked to ask big questions. He spoke of morals and history. About perception and the nature of things. Antonio talked about the colour of the sky and jagged horizons. He often asked about the places on the map he was making. He had decided to add a personal touch to it. A miniature drawing of a building, of an event, of a memory. At least he tried to. His hands were still trembling, almost unnoticeably by the time he was near finishing it. His muscles would cramp from overworking far too quickly. He just couldn't get Gibraltar right.

Antonio sighed in exasperation and threw himself back at the pillows. The rustling of pages came from the window and he turned to see Arthur deeply engrossed in his book.

"How long are you going to keep me here?" The words flew out of his mouth. Arthur's gaze flickered towards him before going back to the book.

"You can leave whenever you want. I'm not keeping you here." The blond replied.

Antonio looked back at the map he'd been working on so hard. The lines were awry and the continents distorted. It looked more like an abstract view of the world than a map. Maybe it was all the conversations they'd had that were skewing his vision rather than the wound. Maybe it was both.

"I think you want to be here." Arthur added with finality that ticked Antonio off.

"Why the hell would I want that?"

"Leave then." The blond offered, putting his book aside and giving Antonio his full attention. His words were met with stunned silence. "Prove me wrong. Say the words so we can both go home." Wide green eyes stared at him with a look that made Arthur feel like the big bad wolf that had finally caught the skittish rabbit. "You have every reason to do so, don't you? You can heal, you can go back to your little distraction of a boy and most importantly get away from me. So leave."

Antonio opened his mouth, but his throat had gone dry. His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth and his throat refused to make a single sound. A single Oh was unbearable let alone a full sentence. Arthur's hard eyes stared at him with a firm challenge. He should say it. This was his chance. Just one sentence and he could get out of this mess. Arthur wouldn't chase after him if he said the words here and now. He could go home and heal, hug Romano and most importantly get away from the man in front of him. Yet…

He closed his eyes and looked away. His heart was hammering out of control, his mind racing with what he had just done. He had folded. In a single moment of silent feebleness, he had confessed everything his conscious mind had reeled against. Now Arthur held his deepest desires and regrets in the palm of his hand. The blond wouldn't hesitate to use them against him and destroy all the carefully crafted walls Antonio had erected with the centuries.

An amused huff came from the other side of the room and Antonio lifted his head to meet the blond's eyes.

"That's how it is then." Arthur stated and the Spaniard didn't refute that either. He had missed his chance. Later he could deny it and make up excuses. He could tell himself that the wound, the headache and the sleepless nights had exhausted the fight out of him. Right here and right now he knew that that wasn't true. He could blame Arthur for putting an ultimatum on him, but that wasn't true either. The blond shouldn't have been a choice from the very beginning. Then Antonio wouldn't have been able to fuck up his life so royally.

"I believe you." Arthur said after another long moment. "When you say that you never intended for this to happen I believe you. I would be lying if I tell you that I haven't thought about it too. The open sea in front of me, the breeze heavy with possibilities and responsibility shrinking behind me. That was true freedom. That's what we should have been doing here."

"I wouldn't have attacked London if you hadn't attacked Romano." Antonio finally found his voice. The words came out slow and mechanical.

"I want you. It was means to an end." The absolute certainty in Arthur's voice made Antonio tremble. Despite his failure and contrary to those words the brit remained in his seat. But those eyes now burned with a fire that made Antonio wonder why Arthur wasn't moving towards him to assert that claim. The thought made him flush under his collar and he still wasn't sure how to react to that.

What he knew was that those words didn't ring true to him. He knew Arthur well enough to know that it wasn't a question of simple want. If it had been, the matter would have been closed with that little romp in Gilbert's cell. Instead things had only escalated and Arthur had continued chasing him with even greater intent.

"So you want me?" Antonio asked.

"Yes." Arthur repeated. "Just like you do."

"No." The brunette rejected. "You don't just want me. It's more than that. You've been taunting me this whole god damned time. You've been telling me how Romano can't give me what I need. How I don't love him…"

"It's true." Arthur interjected, but Antonio didn't stop to listen.

"…but what about Alfred? How do you imagine you can be with him and have me? Do you think I would leave Romano to be your dirty little secret? You're delusional."

Arthur's eyes narrowed at that. No, he was planning on gently letting go of Alfred. All of that had been a mistake. One big horrible mistake. He would forever carry the cross for that. It was his blame to bare, but he knew that the young blond was the one that was going to suffer. However, he truly believed that this was better than the bitter twisted lie they had been living in. At least this way Alfred could find someone who truly loved him and didn't use him to hide their broken parts. Arthur would… his eyes studied the man in front of him. Antonio radiated disdain and disgust in such heavy waves that Arthur could almost feel guilty for who he was.

"Is that what has been stopping you? You want this to be more than an affair?" The blond gestured between the two of them. He immediately regretted his words. They were ugly and goading. They would push off Antonio rather than built on that moment of weakness the brunette had shown him. Antonio wanted to stay with him. Fuck! Antonio wanted to be here with him, knowing full well that staying meant admitting he wanted Arthur too. That was what he should be focusing on, rather than his own inability stop to wanting everything that man was. Old habits died hard, he guessed.

"This was more than affair." Antonio pointed out coldly. "About five centuries ago. Then you attacked my ships, helped the Dutch rebel and aligned against me every chance you got."

"You tried to kill Elizabeth." Arthur stated matter-of-factly. "The heretic queen, that's what you called her, wasn't it?"

"No, not me. Philip." Antonio shook his head. Maybe honesty was riding a bit too close to the surface, but he still felt raw and bare from the choice Arthur had forced him to take. Maybe just a little bit vengeful as well. "I swear to everything she deserved everything she got."

"Because she dared stand up against you? She had the guts to stand up against the Spanish Empire and win." So maybe Arthur was exaggerating a bit, but who could blame him?

"She didn't stand up to anything!" Antonio rejected, his voice rising. "She refused Philip's offer and attacked my ships. She asked for war, but acted absolutely confused when she got one!"

"So you decided to wipe my existence off of the face of the Earth." The blond said bitterly.

Antonio gaped at that statement. Did Arthur really believe that? His brain scrambled to come up with an explanation. He had never wanted to destroy the other, he had just wanted him by his side. Philip had managed to convince him that that might be the only way. By defeating the heretic Queen they would have made England part of the Empire and Arthur his. That had been their chance to be together. At least that was what he believed at the time.

Arthur, of course, would have seen it as nothing, but betrayal of the highest order. No wonder things had gone so fucking wrong after that.

"That's not what I wanted. I never wanted to… destroy you." Even the words left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Yes, you just brought your Armada all the way here to say '¡Hola, te echo mucho de menos!' ['Hi, I miss you so much!']"

"That's not how it was. I had no choice, but to sail to London, because you provoked Philip." Antonio grabbed the sheets, leaning towards the Arthur.

"You think I had a choice in the matter?" The blond snapped. "You and I both know that you didn't just disobey your monarch or your people."

Antonio reeled back at that as if slapped across the face. Sharp pain blossomed in his chest and he couldn't breathe.

"But you love Elizabeth…" He rasped weakly. Everything they had been through in the last five centuries rested on that simple premise. Arthur loved Elizabeth more than he loved him. The blond had made sure to tell Antonio he wasn't even worth the dirt under his shoes time and time again.

"That doesn't mean that I agreed with everything she ordered. Sometimes I just didn't have a choice."

Just like that everything he knew about Arthur Kirkland realigned itself in a crisp sharp picture. All the rebelliousness, cruelty and decadence suddenly made perfect sense. Those were all the growing pains of a child that had been kept on a tight leash. A child that did not know the true hold of Rome or the taste of Ancient Greece. This was a child that had escaped the Church to drink from the Seven Seas. Only to retreat to prude Victorian London and then rebel against it all with drugs, sex and rock.

Suddenly Antonio could understand Arthur's endless fascination with him. After all Antonio had been the one to push the boundaries of the known world. In a sick way it made sense why Arthur had chosen Alfred as his substitute. But it was Antonio that had managed to lit the fire and Antonio who kept it burning.

A knock echoed in the silent room. Followed by another and then another.

Ta da dam. Antonio is finally coming around (after 10 chapters and 6 years), so not much left.