Over the course of the next few days, Arthur taught the rebels basic Spadean war tactics and nurtured his friendship with Alfred. The rebel leader's defenses were obviously down; he spoke freely with Arthur. The spy, meanwhile, made sure to plant hints that he wanted something more than friendship. When Alfred picked up on these, he turned a deep scarlet and stammered from the rest of the conversation.
Today, the morning was chilly. Arthur sat outside his tent wrapped in a blanket, sipping a mug of hot tea. Dew covered the soft blades of grass, reflecting the light of the sunrise. Arthur smiled lightly at the beauty of the day and the gentleness of the powerful sun.
"What's got you in a good mood?" Alfred asked as he sat down beside Arthur.
"A number of things," the "former" lieutenant replied carefully.
"Like what?"
"The morning. The dewdrops. The sun." Arthur paused for a moment, watching Alfred carefully. "Though even the sun cannot outshine you."
Right on cue, the assassin reddened, ducking his head so his eyes would not meet Arthur's. "Oh. That's..." Alfred drew a shaky breath. "H-hey, listen, are you, y'know, being serious? L-like, this isn't a joke?"
Arthur put his tea down and scooted closer, resting his hand on Alfred's. "Of course it's not a joke," he said quietly. This wasn't exactly false. It wasn't a joke; it was a lie.
Alfred looked at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. "Oh. Uh. That's, wow. I mean, uh..." Alfred sighed. "I didn't expect that. I never expected anybody to see me like this. You know, as a human being. I've always been either up on this unreachable pedestal of heroicness or treated as a beast that could snap at any time. The only people who ever saw me as a real person, with thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams, were Matthew and Steve. This is...new."
"Hopefully new in a good way?"
Alfred laughed, a rich, warm sound. "Yeah. Really good." He gave Arthur a tentative smile. The soldier responded by twining his fingers with Alfred's.
Alfred sighed, but it wasn't a sigh of exhaustion or exasperation. It was a content sigh, a little escaping of breath that said, "Ah, yes, this is nice. Today is nice. Everything is very nice." Arthur gave him a warm smile, but internally he grinned maniacally. He had never expected Alfred to be so easy to manipulate. This rebellion would fall like a house of cards in a hurricane.
With his free hand, Arthur lifted his cup of tea and held it out to Alfred. "Would you like a sip? The morning is cold, and this tea is quite warm." Alfred sniffed the drink.
"...I guess I'll have some," Alfred conceded. He took the cup from Arthur and hesitantly sipped.
"How is it?"
"Warm."
Arthur gently swatted Alfred's shoulder. "The taste, git. What does it taste like?"
"It's okay."
"That's good enough for me." Arthur leaned against Alfred, resting his head in the crook of the taller man's neck. He smiled as he watched Alfred continue to drink the tea. So quickly wrapped around my finger, Arthur thought. A beast so easily manipulated is called, I believe, tame.
Alfred buzzed around the camp in contentment, his heart soaring in the sky, a feather on the wind. He hummed while helping people sew uniforms, skipped between the blacksmiths at the forge, and danced while training with his future soldiers. The morning replayed in his mind, sending endorphins shooting through his bloodstream. Tea had never tasted so good.
His elation was infectious. All around the camp, people laughed as they worked, some even singing old folk songs. To Alfred, their voices sounded sweeter than the songbirds themselves. True joy among his people. This was something he had not seen in a long time.
Still, he had important work to do, between dancing and singing. He oversaw everything in the camp, and he had important news coming from some trusted sources. His spies down in the village had intercepted a Spadean messenger that bore a report of something that could either change the tides in the rebellion's favor or damn them to a terrible, bloody defeat. If this news did not get to the right people, the war would be over before it had ever even hoped to begin.
Alfred flitted between the throng of people into the forge. The rhythmic pounding of hammers was its own class of music, the swirling smoke its own art. The forge created art of war and art of the senses. A remarkable place, but Alfred did not have the patience to master its craft.
"How're the swords looking?" Alfred questioned. "They look pretty damn fine to me."
"Well, they're as good as they're going to get in this tiny little forge," Tony replied.
"Oh, stuff it, Tony. This isn't the fucking Skyforge," a woman shouted from somewhere within. Alfred briefly remembered that Tony had once been a master blacksmith at the Royal Spadean Forge, better known among the people as Skyforge.
"Speaking of Skyforge," Alfred said cheerfully, "sources tell me that a shipment of skysteel is coming down from the capitol to Teal Company."
Alfred was met with blank stares. "How is this a good thing?" one of the motley blacksmiths asked.
"Because we're going to intercept it, of course!"
"It's going to be damn hard to do that," Tony pointed out. "Probably worth every drop of blood we shed, but still. And even if we manage to get that skysteel, the weapons we'll make from them will only be a shadow of what they would be made in the Skyforge."
"It'll still outclass common steel by far," Alfred argued. "It's a distinct advantage."
"It raises a couple of questions." Tony's hand stroked his beard, deep in thought. "Why would the capitol send raw skysteel instead of weapons forged already in Skyforge? Unless the soldiers have managed to build a huge forge like that one, their weapons will be just as pitiful as the ones we would make. Are you sure this isn't a trap?"
"I'm sure," Alfred confirmed. "I got it from a reliable source. You're right, though. We should send scouts to find the convoy and get more information. I'll work on getting some scouts. Good work, everybody."
Alfred left the forge and saw Arthur passing by. He immediately changed course to go toward him. Only a week ago he had been diving into alleys to avoid the man. Now he went towards him eagerly.
"So, what did you do today?" Alfred asked.
"I visited the stream today. It's very peaceful there. Does it have a name, by any chance?"
Alfred nodded. "It's called the Cloudwater River. It comes from the Cloudscrape Mountains at the border of America and Spades."
"I see." Arthur moved closer so that their sides were almost touching as they walked. Alfred took this as an invitation to interlace the fingers of their hands. After he did so, Arthur gave Alfred such a warm smile that his heart almost melted. Being treated as a human was so...relaxing. It was relief, the calm after the storm of people pretending Alfred was more than the sum of his parts, better than others, and more dangerous because of it.
Perhaps Alfred was dangerous. But he would suppress the beast inside him, for Arthur if not for anyone else.
AN: Hey, guys. Sorry for my one-day hiatus! I was really tired after my regatta, even a day later, and I recently got Skyrim (FINALLY) so I was obsessing over it. I'm still obsessing over it, actually, but I do have time to update my favorite fic. Hope you guys like this chapter!