Chapter 11: They dressed in red

After they set up camp that night, and after they had eaten, they sat on a blanket by the fire and settled against each other. Alfred looped an arm around Arthur and pulled him into a soft, slow kiss. Arthur leaned into him, relishing the feeling. They stayed that way for a long time, the fire slowly dimming beside them. Their kisses grew slower and sleepier, and eventually Arthur rested his head against Alfred's chest and sighed. "Bedtime?" Alfred murmured, and Arthur nodded. They crawled into the tent and curled up against one another. Alfred lay an arm across Arthur's waist and quickly fell asleep. Arthur managed to stay awake for only a little longer, watching Alfred sleeping. He fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

As they traveled, they developed a new routine: Ride, frequently in comfortable silence; rest, which meant chatting and leaning against each other, or intertwining their fingers without thinking about it; and then, when they were done riding for the day, set up camp. After dinner, they would stay awake late into the night, cuddling and kissing away the cold and the chill of the night air.

A few nights later, they were curled up as usual by the fire when Alfred grew strangely serious and quiet. Arthur looked up at him expectantly. After a moment, Alfred leaned over and nuzzled Arthur's neck. "Do you think," he started quietly, "You could tell me what happened . . . back in England?" He pulled back and looked into Arthur's cautious eyes. "You don't have to tell me, but I'd like to know."

"You mean when I killed him."

"Yeah."

Arthur went quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. Alfred put an arm around his waist and pulled him closer. Arthur paused and bit his lip. "I suppose I should start a bit farther back," Arthur said slowly. "With my family." Alfred rested his head on Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur was comforted by the gesture. "My dad was in Parliament, and he was a very influential politician. My brothers all followed in his footsteps, and they all voted with him." He nudged Alfred a little with his shoulder. "I don't expect you to know a lot about politics, but suffice to say it was . . . corrupt."

Alfred chuckled, deep in his throat. The sound reverberated through Arthur's back. "You think I don't know how that works? Half the jailers and judges in the country are bribed up to their ears."

Arthur smiled a little and hummed in acknowledgment. "It wasn't all bribes of money, though; some of it was reputation." Alfred nodded. "Anyway, as you may expect – or maybe not, I suppose – I refused to become a politician. I didn't exactly have anything better to do with my life, but I did not want to get dragged into that mess. I suppose it would have been alright if I stopped there, but . . . I publicly denounced my father and brothers' actions." Arthur's mouth tightened. "I was disowned shortly after that, though I think my mother wasn't aware of it until it happened." Alfred made a sympathetic noise and gave his waist a squeeze. "It was all a very tense time. My father had some enemies in Parliament, and one of them apparently thought that I would suddenly be interested in politics if it meant I could vote against my father. He sent one of his men after me with an offer. I refused, of course, and the man . . . insulted me." Arthur's eyes darkened.

Arthur was silent for so long, Alfred thought he was done with his story. "That's it? Then you shot him?"

"No," Arthur said slowly. "No, that wasn't quite it." He rested his head against Alfred's shoulder with a sigh. "I have a sister."

Alfred made a little noise of surprise. "Really? What's her name?"

"Anna. Or Alice. Sometimes she goes by her middle name."

"Huh. Were you close?"

Arthur shrugged. "Mostly when we were younger. We've grown apart since, but compared to my brothers? Yes. I suppose I've always felt like I should be looking out for her. The man they sent after me . . . I'd met him before. He had been attempting to court her the season previously, but she'd refused him and my father hadn't pushed the issue. When he approached me, though, the man told me . . . he told me that if I didn't join Parliament and vote with his benefactor, he would personally ruin her reputation by slander." Arthur's hands clenched into fists and his voice became quieter. "He told me it wouldn't be lies. He told me that he already had ruined her honor." He nearly spat out the last word. He looked up at Alfred and his eyes were like green fire. "Maybe in your society honor isn't important, but in London, in the society we were part of, it is everything."

Alfred pulled him a little closer and kissed Arthur's forehead. "I understand," he said quietly.

Arthur looked away and his eyes took on a faraway look. His mouth straightened into a thin, drawn line. "It didn't even cross my mind to challenge him to a duel. He wouldn't have deserved the courtesy, anyway."

Alfred inhaled the scent of his hair and smiled a little. "If she's anything like you, I think she would have wanted you to do what you did."

Arthur smiled a little at that, too, though there was no humor in it. "Maybe she did."

They traveled aimlessly, passing state borders with little regard for lines they couldn't see. They spent a lot of time close to one another, tentatively bridging the gap of physical contact – a brief touch there, a brush of the finger tips as they walked together, a tousling of hair. Each kiss was sweet and precious. Arthur stopped thinking about the future, even the future as he had thought of it previously, in seasons and years. He wanted the present to last forever.

Eventually, they ended up in a railroad town. They had so far been avoiding them, but they needed to stop for the night and it was the nearest place. The next morning, the two of them went out to buy supplies. "We need to get that bridle repaired," Alfred said. "I'll go drop that off at the tanner's. Can you buy us our groceries?"

"Sure," Arthur replied. Neither of them had been to the town before, so they set off in separate directions (because Alfred, of course, refused to ask anyone for help). After several minutes of walking, Arthur hadn't found anything, so he approached a man who was shoveling manure off the street. "Excuse me," Arthur said politely. "Where might I find the grocery? Or a general store, if you have one."

The main straightened and shaded his gaze from the sun. "The store's about two streets that way." He jerked his thumb behind him. He looked back at Arthur and frowned a little. Actually, Arthur realized, he was looking at Arthur's forehead – or, more precisely, his eyebrows. "Hey . . ." the man said slowly, and Arthur realized that he wasn't wearing his hat.

"Thanks so much," Arthur said hurriedly, and walked swiftly away.

"Hey!" the man called after him. "You're the – He's the outlaw!"

Arthur's heart gave a horrible jolt. He sprinted for the nearest side-street, any possibility of appearing inconspicuous gone. His blood pounded in his ears and his breath tore at his throat. Alfred, Alfred, he thought – and then he realized that he had instinctively been running towards the direction Alfred had gone. He immediately skidded to a halt. I was going to lead them to Alfred. I was going to get Alfred caught too. He looked around him. He had to get away, get away from the men who were chasing him, but most of all, get away from Alfred. He couldn't run back towards the men, but he couldn't run in the direction he had been going either. You need a horse, was his next thought. He saw an alleyway and ran down it. Perhaps he had no idea where he was going, but this was a town, and where there was a town there were streets – and where there were streets, there were always places to run.

The alleyway opened onto a major road. There were men behind him, he knew, because a voice shouted, "Get him!" the moment Arthur hesitated. So after a quick glance behind him – they were armed, there were at least two of them – Arthur ran straight into the open space. Another one of the men shouted, "Don't just stand there! He's an outlaw!" and someone to Arthur's left grabbed his arm. It wasn't long before they had his hands pined behind his back, had forced him down onto his knees, and Arthur stopped struggling.

One of the men stood in front of Arthur. He cocked his pistol and aimed it at Arthur's forehead. "You're wanted by the law. There's a reward on your head, did you know that?" Arthur looked back at him unblinkingly. His heart was still beating far too fast, but he tried to force his breathing to slow. He attempted to look as disinterested as possible. The man didn't look impressed. "Were you working alone?" Arthur stared back at him. "Where you alone?" the man roared.

Everyone nearby had stopped what they were doing and were staring, Arthur knew, and a crowd was gathering. It wouldn't be long before the news reached Alfred that an outlaw had been caught, and then he would come racing to see what the trouble was. Arthur spat on the ground near the man's feet. "Of course I'm alone," he said in a low growl. "Don't you even know what I'm wanted for?"

"Matter of fact, I don't," the man said. "Mind telling?"

Arthur looked up. "Murder," he said, in the same quiet, low voice.

A murmur rippled through the men around him. "Is that so," the man said uncomfortably. He cleared his throat. "Up on your feet!" he said loudly.

Arthur rose to his feet slowly and with some difficulty. Someone produced some rope and tied his hands. "You're coming with us," another man said, and they pushed him forward.

As soon as they weren't watching Arthur's face, Arthur quickly scanned the crowd. There was a small commotion off to one side, and he saw a red hat bobbing in the sea of people. He saw Alfred appear. There was stricken expression on his face, and for one instant, their eyes met. Arthur quickly looked away. "Of course I am alone," Arthur said to the man now leading him by the arm, loudly this time. "I'm not even wanted on this continent. In case you haven't noticed, I'm English." Please, Alfred, he prayed, Understand what I mean – don't come after me. Don't be heroic. Don't get yourself killed. We never met.

"I noticed," the man grumbled. "That won't save you from the law."

They led him to the sheriff, who then threw him in jail.

Alfred had barely started negotiating with the shopkeeper before he heard the excited murmurings from people outside. He looked out the window, mildly curious. When a boy outside yelled, "They caught an outlaw!" his heart nearly shot through his throat. He grabbed the still-broken bridle and raced outside. It wasn't difficult to figure out where he needed to go, because the crowd led him straight there. He worked his way to the front and stared.

Arthur was on his feet, but his hands were tied and he was being pushed forward. Despite this, his expression was defiant and he held his head proudly. Alfred's heart ached at the sight. When Arthur started talking loudly about how he had no accomplices, Alfred understood exactly what Arthur wanted him to do. As much as he wanted to run up and save Arthur right then and there, he forced himself to stand still. He followed Arthur and the men at a distance until they locked him up, and then he went back into town. He bought a lot of supplies, especially food that would keep for a long time. Then he went back to the inn, packed up all their belongings, and waited.

That night, in the early hours of the morning, Alfred took their horses and tied them up near the jail, hidden from prying eyes. He walked right up to the door and knocked. The jailer opened the door, confusion clearly written across his face. Alfred grinned. "Nice evenin', huh?" he said, pushed the jailer back into the building, closed the door behind him, and struck the jailer in the forehead with the back of his pistol. The jailer stumbled and then fell heavily onto the floor. Alfred quickly unhooked the keys from the jailer's belt. Only when he straightened did he see Arthur watching him, stunned, through the bars of his cell. Alfred automatically smiled "Hey honey," he said, and started trying keys in the lock on his cell.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur blurted out.

"Rescuing you. What else would I be doing?" Alfred grinned at him briefly. The lock clicked and he swung open the door. He walked back over to the jailer, picked him up by the armpits, and began to drag him into the cell. Arthur was still standing inside it, staring. Alfred looked up at him. "You gonna move?"

Arthur silently stepped outside and watched as Alfred dragged the man into the cell. Alfred locked the door and tossed the keys on the floor, far enough away that none of the prisoners would be able to reach them. Alfred finally stopped moving and gave Arthur a sweet smile. He swept him up into a hug and Arthur buried his face in the collar of Alfred's shirt. It was a brief embrace. Alfred kissed Arthur quickly, but desperately: I thought I was going to lose you. Arthur looked up at him with dark eyes: I'm sorry I dragged you into this. They left the building holding hands. Alfred made sure to close to the door behind them.

They go on their horses quickly, and they left the town at a jog – they waited until they were out of the town limits to push their horses into a gallop. Before, they had been taking a wandering path that roughly followed a line of settlements east; now, their path veered west and deeper south. Before, they had been clinging to the edge of civilization. Now, they would have to leave it entirely.

They rode all night and only stopped when the sun's first rays peaked above the horizon. It was not particularly cold, but when Arthur dismounted, he found that he was shivering violently. They set up a basic camp – no fire, no tent – and then Alfred pulled Arthur into his arms.

"I'm sorry this had to happen," Alfred whispered. "It's going to be okay."

"I'm sorry," Arthur said. A tear trailed down his cheek. "I'm sorry I shot him. I shouldn't have. It seemed important at the time, but I was acting selfishly, and now I've messed everything up, haven't I?" He closed his eyes and pressed his nose into the crook of Alfred's neck. "I'm sorry for everything," he whispered.

"I'm glad you killed him." Arthur looked up at the strength of his words. Alfred looked down at him and stroked his hair, though his hand trembled slightly. He smiled weakly. "If you hadn't, I never would have met you, and I don't know what I would have done. I was lonely before Mattie died, you know," he said, and his voice broke a little. "Out here, in a place like this?" He spread out his arm, taking in the whole landscape. "You go crazy if you're all alone. So don't have any regrets about things you can't change, because – because I certainly don't regret meeting you."

Arthur buried his face in Alfred's shirt and let out a quiet sob. He dried his eyes and turned his face to one side. All he could see was the line of Alfred's jaw and his shirt collar. "I love you," Arthur whispered.

Alfred's hand tightened on his back. He placed a hand against Arthur's jaw and pulled him up into a fierce kiss. Alfred looked deep into his eyes. "I love you too," he said. His voice was husky and deep. Arthur tangled his fingers in his hair and kissed him again.

Everything was going to be alright.

The sheriff and his men came upon them while they were sleeping. The pounding of hooves woke them just before they were in range. Alfred scrambled out of his sleeping bag and unholstered his pistol. Arthur felt his throat constrict, and though he managed to stand, he only stood there, frozen in fear. There were four men, and they were all mounted and armed. "Give up the outlaw," the sheriff said.

"Which one?" Alfred asked, and then he shot the sheriff through the heart.

All the horses snorted and pranced. One of them tried to run away, and its rider was nearly unseated. Alfred put his hat on his head, grabbed Arthur, and forced him to get onto his horse. Alfred's hat shone blood-red in the sun. He shot at one of the other men and missed, but it was enough of a diversion to give him time to grab their saddlebags and toss them over his saddle. He kicked his horse into a gallop and Arthur's horse was only too eager to follow it. For whatever reason – shock, fear, or something else – the other men did not follow them. When Arthur glanced back, he saw them hauling the dead sheriff onto one of their horses.

They were both wanted men now.

Author's note: Hmm, yes, a bit of a short chapter. Sorry about that.

A note on Anna: I was a bit uncertain about introducing Arthur's "sister," even just as a side character that never actually appears (sorry if you were hoping to meet her). For some reason, though, she's really stuck in my head-canon for Arthur's life back in England for this AU, so I just went with it. She's actually supposed to be his nyotalia version, since I think Himaruya expressed that he intended the nyotalia to be kind of like sisters to the more standard characters (correct me if I'm wrong). I named her Anna because that's King Arthur's sister's name in some versions of the Arthurian legend (hoho), but I threw in Alice as her middle name because that seems to be a popular fan name for her (they don't have canon names yet, right?). That was kind of a long explanation for a character who you don't even see. 'orz

Oh, and Happy Halloween. :)