Chapter 34: A New Tale Begins! Pt. 3

(YEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! FINISHED!)

"No, no, no! You hafta queen me," Alfred slurred, picking up his white queen, "Like this," he placed it on top of the pawn and let go. It fell onto the chess board with a clack. There was a pause and then an, "Oops."

"I'll drink to that!" Gilbert drawled, lifting up his flask, Alfred clinked the whiskey bottle against it as Gilbert cried, "To the fallen bitch queen!"

"Don't call my queen a bitch!" Alfred chided him, waggling his finger back and forth in a 'no' gesture, "She's an angel. A beautiful, fallen angel."

"She's wasted. Look at her just laying there," Gilbert said, swaying back and forth, barely able to keep himself on the edge of the bed. The nightstand was positioned between them with the chess board on it and Alfred was sitting on a chair on the opposite side. "Why'd you let her drink so much?"

"What can I say?" Alfred said, throwing him a sloppy grin, "She loves the whiskey!"

"Another shot?"

"'Nother shot!" Alfred agreed and he tipped back the bottle chugging, while Gilbert tipped back his flask.

"Uh-oh," Gilbert said, holding his flask upside down. "Empty."

"Well that's just a crime," Alfred mumbled, standing up, he used the edge of the nightstand for balance, putting the lip of the bottle onto the mouth of the flask. Needless to say a good portion missed and dripped onto the floor, but he got most of it in.

"Uh-oh, alcohol abuse!" Gilbert chimed, gulping down more. "That's it! Floggings for you!"

"Well, shit! But before that, you gonna move or not? It's your turn!" Alfred said, easing himself back onto his chair. "S'not like the pieces move themselves."

Gilbert grumbled something, since his left arm was still broken, he held the flask with his teeth and used his other hand to slide one pawn across the board, knocking two others off in the process, he slammed it down. Taking the flask back with his hand, he grunted, "There, king me!"

"Hey, you can't do that!" Alfred mumbled, "That's called cheatin' and that's not how you play."

"That's how I play," Gilbert declared. "It's the awesome way."

Two soldiers had brought Alfred's bag in earlier, the whiskey bottle snuggled inside. As soon as it was dark and Gilbert was sure the Prince was in bed, they lit a candle and set to drinking. Alfred had been delighted to discover the chess board in his bag too and decided to teach Gilbert some of the game as they got soused.

Truth be told, Alfred was not that drunk. He had been pretending. An easy task when drinking directly out of the bottle. Gilbert, however, was red-faced and gone.

Drunken Gilbert had taught Alfred two things about the man: first, he was quick to anger when drunk and second, he could swing into depressed and lonely just as fast. Like now.

He sniffled, staring at the board, tears welled in his eyes as he gazed at Alfred's fallen white queen mournfully. "What now?" Alfred groaned.

"It's nothing," he blubbered, wiping at his eyes. Alfred rolled his eyes. Here we go again. "It's just," Gilbert began, choking on his words, he pointed at Alfred's queen, "It's so sad. She's just laying there. Right her!"

"Pardon?"

"Right her!" Gilbert slammed a fist on the board, knocking several pieces over, a couple rolled off and clattered on the floor. Alfred was tired of picking them up.

Alfred set her upright, "There, happy?" Gilbert nodded, wiping his watery eyes off on his sleeve.

"She really is a beauty," Gilbert said softly, studying Alfred's queen like she was the most fascinating thing ever. "Pity she's stupid and can't see how awesome I am."

"Uh...," Alfred trailed off, looking from side to side. Gilbert's reaaally wasted. "Who are you talking about?"

"The queen, you idiot! That magnificent creature," Gilbert continued, staring almost loving at the piece, then he scowled at it. "No taste that one. I mean look at the idiot she married," he sneered, glaring at Alfred's white king like he wanted to strangle it. "That piano-loving prick is not near as awesome as me! I mean, why him?"

"Dude, are you jealous of my chess pieces?" Alfred asked, a little weirded out by this conversation.

Gilbert stared at him blankly and drawled, "God, you're stupid. Why would I be jealous of chess pieces? I'm talking about the queen! Queeeeeen, you moron."

"Ooookaaay, you've had too much," Alfred muttered, reaching for Gilbert's flask, but Gilbert held it away.

"Touch my flask and I'll snap your neck," Gilbert warned, feeling at his belt for a blade that wasn't there so he grabbed his black king instead, waving that around. "'Cause I'm so awesome! I can't be stopped," and then his anger was gone again. That mournful expression back as he looked at Alfred and asked, "Why didn't she pick me?"

Tired of this, Alfred put the white king on the floor and set his queen in front of Gilbert, "There, have her."

"I don't want her," Gilbert muttered, "You don't get it! I want the queen! The queeen!"

I want to beat my head against a wall, Alfred thought, "The who?"

"The girl I love," Gilbert said. Alfred straightened up. Gilbert in love? He couldn't imagine it. Should he pity the poor creature? "It's not my fault I groped her. I thought she was a boy then."

Alfred decided to ignore that statement and all it's oddness. He started picking up chess pieces and tossing them on his bed before placing he board there. He moved the table back, avoiding the candle on the floor while Gilbert flopped backwards on the bed. The man moaned about how fucking stupid that bitch and her wuss king looked together.

Suddenly, as Alfred reached for the chair, Gilbert caught his wrist and in an almost pleading tone, asked, "Am I lonely?"

How does one answer that? He wondered, coming up with the best response he could, "I don't know, are you?"

"Fuck no!" He snarled, letting go of Alfred's wrist, he looked around for his bird, but Gilbird was up sleeping on the canopy as far as Alfred knew. He opened his mouth and then squinted at Alfred. "Oh, is Mattie here?"

Alfred glanced around, but saw no one. "No, why?"

"'Cause there are two of you," he giggled. Alfred wanted to slap his palm against his face and groan. Gilbert's face suddenly darkened and he looked away, saying, "It's so pathetic."

"What?"

"Me," he answered, gulping more from his flask. "Longing for some married bitch," he muttered, his eyebrows curved downward, Alfred thought the man would cry, but then the angry look came back. " Who does that bitch think she is? I am the son of the great Lord of Prussia! An Empire so vast it nearly covered all the kingdoms. I could have been...," he trailed off. His put his forearm over his eyes. "What a joke I've become! Nobles. Goddam nobles. Do you know what they did to my poor Prussia?"

Alfred shrugged. History was not his strong suit. Gilbert continued, his lower lip trembling and Alfred saw wetness trickling down his cheeks. He's crying? Alfred was stunned. He didn't think the man was capable of it. "They fucking tore it apart! Shredded it like a lettuce. They took everything!" He wailed, his hand clenched around the flask. "It's all there fault. No wonder she chose him."

"Gilbert?" Alfred said softly, unsure what to do.

"Just go," Gilbert ordered.

Alfred blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Just go! Get out of here! That's what you wanted, right?" Gilbert sat up, looking a tad more sober despite the wetness under his eyes. "Get me some parchment and a quill. I'll even write you a letter and seal it. Just leave!"

Alfred needed no further urging, he went for his bag.

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Alfred gaped at the letter, sounding out the words again and again, unable to believe his luck. Gilbert had even had Gilbird fetch his wax seal so he could make it official.

"Once you get out of the East Wing, just tell them you're a messenger for the Prince. With that, they'll believe you. Besides nobody but a handful even know of you," Gilbert said, looking a lot more sober.

"Why? Why are you helping me?" Alfred asked suspiciously. It seemed to good to be true. Remembering himself, he swayed a little and tried to slur his words.

"Don't bother pretending now," Gilbert said. Alfred stiffened a little. "Yes, you think I didn't see through your farce? Think I'm stupid? I know you aren't drunk, but I have to hand it to you. You play the drunk well."

"Fine," Alfred said, "But tell me you really are drunk. I mean the cry-."

"Yes, I am drunk!" Gilbert interrupted. "As for your next question and I know you're going to ask it because you're so fucking curious," Alfred frowned, "No, I'm not betraying Matthew."

"Then why?"

Gilbert snorted, shaking his head, "You just don't know when to quit. You want an answer? Then here's a few: you're useless as a bargaining chip. Why? Because the day I bargain with that Russian scum is the day I vomit up blood and eat it off the floor. Want another reason? Fine! Because that bastard will know you're in America. Don't ask me how. I have no fucking idea, but he'll know and when he does, he'll chase you to hell and back. He'll be distracted with you."

"I see," Alfred said, a little hurt at the harshness, but he wasn't going to spit this good fortune in the eye.

"And because," Gilbert muttered, looking away, he added the last part in a low voice, "Maybe you can find Arthur."

Alfred smiled. "So you do believe in me."

"What?" He snapped, "Fuck no! I'm just saying the only way an idiot like you could have survived this long is by dumb luck. The kinda luck that might turn up something."

Alfred grinned, grabbing his bomber jacket off the edge of the bed, he stuffed the letter in his pocket. It was the last thing he needed to pack. He hoisted the backpack on and said, "Thanks Gilbert. You're alright," Gilbert snorted, but there was an unmistakable upward curve to his mouth. Alfred couldn't resist adding, "Even if your burgers are shit."

"Fuck off!" Gilbert snapped, shooting Alfred the middle finger. Alfred shot it back at him, grabbing the doorknob, he twisted it open, hearing Gilbert give one final warning, "Don't get caught."

"I won't," Alfred whispered and then he was gone.

Getting out of the East Wing was easy. There was only one guard at the entrance and he was sleeping. Alfred wondered if Gilbert had anything to do with it. He hoped so because he didn't want that to be the only protection Matthew had. He still cared for his little bro. Little, because Alfred was positive Mattie had to be the younger of the two.

With Gilbert's letter, getting out of the gates was easy. He pondered if Gilbert had had other reasons for helping him. He was sure there were more, but he didn't want to kick this gift horse in the mouth.

Maybe, his mind suggested, maybe he just knows that some birds are meant to fly.

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Alfred stood at the crest of a hill, looking toward Toronto and remembering when he'd first arrived. That feels like a lifetime ago. The city was now covered by a layer of snow and up above was a thick roof of clouds. Everything was only visible for the sheer whiteness of it all that stood out in the night.

It was hard saying good-bye. There were things that happened there he'd rather not recall, but there were happy things as well. Memories that made him long for things that could never be.

"Goodbye, Mattie, Gilbert, and...," he paused, taking in a deep breathe. There was one name he wouldn't say so instead he said, "everybody." He looked up, imagining the moon shining brightly beyond the clouds, he smiled at it, sure it was up there, grinning back at him.

"Just you wait! I'll save everyone yet or my name isn't Alfred F. Jones!" he promised. Adjusting his bag, he turned away from Canada and headed home.

End of Part One

(I DON'T CARE IF THIS LAST UPDATE WAS A SACK OF SHIT OR A BOUQUET OF ROSES! It's finished! *cackles madly* There, that's where Part One ends! If you want to continue this, please move on over to "The Lord of Winter")

After much thought and derision I have decided to stop this here and make a new story for Part Two. Part One wraps up the main plot point of Ivan discovering the switch and Alfred leaving Canada.

Part Two takes up where Part One leaves off and delves into how Lord Ivan came to be and a terrifying truth about the make-up of their world. The stakes are raised. Ivan and Alfred's love develops into something real as secrets are unveiled in Part Two:

The Lord of Winter

Canada is being crushed under General Winter's ice. Our favorite hamburger-loving hero is on a mission to save it, but close on his heels is Ivan, desperate to possess

Alfred by any means. Part Two of "The Canadian and the American".

"May the Lord of Winter reign supreme, aru"

- Emperor Yao of the Chinese Kingdom.