"We need to get back to France as soon as possible. Francis looks absolutely awful and I hate to just leave him like that, even if it is for only a few days-"
"Relax, Arthur, everything will be fine now that I'm here. We're leaving tomorrow if that's alright with you."
Arthur and his newly arrived and proclaimed ally, Alfred, sat across from each other in the kitchen of Arthur's London home on the morning of the American's third day in Britain. After intercepting an important telegram from Ludwig Beilschmidt's leader, Kaiser, to Mexico, Alfred declared war on the German, throwing himself into the great brawl in Europe. Obviously Arthur and Francis were beside themselves in relief, as they had been fighting the Central Powers for almost four long, hard years alone. Alfred had what the French and Englishman were lacking. He had fresh troops and a positive outlook. His face was clean and he looked like he had three square meals a day and a full night's rest. He hadn't seen what was to come in France. The sickly trenches and an unmerciful enemy were enough to crush any man's very body, spirit, and soul.
Arthur bit into his buttered toast, secretly thankful that he was in London being fed, and not starving with Francis in a wet and muddy trench.
"That's more than fine."
Alfred sipped his coffee casually as he looked down to read the newspaper in front of him.
"Arthur, you know I'm not going to let any of those Central-Powered dogs win."
"That's what you keep saying. I'd just like to get out of Britain first."
Alfred peered up.
"Stop repeating yourself, I heard you the first thirty times."
"I just don't want anything bad to happen to- "
"Arthur! I know!"
Alfred slammed the paper onto the small table before him in frustration and irritation.
"Listen. I'm here to help you and Francis. But good God, Arthur, you sound delirious!"
Alfred gave Arthur a stern gaze, one that he usually got from the other. The Englishman sat back in his chair, absorbing the American's concerned words.
"You haven't been sleeping well and you sound like you've swallowed a fucking brillow pad! You're not well right now, Arthur. Why don't you go upstairs and catch up on some sleep?"
"Alfred…I can't-"
"Do it for me, Arthur! Do it for me! How can I possibly fight Germans when my ally can't even stay awake or hold down a bowl of soup?"
Alfred was now standing and leaning over the table with a genuinely upset expression written on his young, noble face. Arthur hesitated before getting up and setting the cloth he was using as a napkin down on the table.
"I…I suppose that's fair."
The American extended a strong hand and clapped the other on the shoulder firmly.
"Just call me if you need me. I'll bring you up some food later. I promise I'm here to help."
Arthur nodded before turning to leave the kitchen and head upstairs to rest. It would be a long while before Alfred really got involved in the action, but his presence was all that mattered to the Englishman.
Here's a short chapter on Alfred's entry into WWI. When the American's arrived in Britain, they stayed there for four days, then moved onto France (just a little nudge as to what's going on here).
Alfred has finally gained a lot of power and is seen as sort of a saviour during this time (I mean, he is the hero after all).
PLEASE REVIEW and tell me what you think. There is much more to come, please stay tuned!