Alfred left the room willingly, ignoring the worried faces of his maids, who had, after hearing the commotion, came out to see what was up. He didn't care that they were watching, he let his tears fall freely. Arthur was dying, Alfred was almost certain that there was nothing Davie could do to help. Alfred clenched his jaw, slamming his head against the stone gray wall. He had committed the worst thing an alpha could do.

He had failed to protect his mate.

He slid to the floor, burying his head in his knees. He began to sob heavily, his chest constricting as he felt the bond between he and Arthur fade. The bond was a small pressure, a pleasant sensation that was a constant reminder that the two, even though they weren't mated, were still mates. It was an emotional bond that often came after the physical one, but for some reason, it happened the other way around first. He had fallen in love with Arthur, but know he could feel the other fading.

As the minutes turned to hours, the prince tugged at his hair in despair as the bond grew weaker. He had stopped crying hours ago, staring at the ground blankly as guards told him their reports, which Alfred hardly listened to. They failed, that's all that mattered. Margaret had, about 3 hours ago, come to comfort him, but he just ignored her. She then opted to sit beside him for the remainder of the day.

It was now about 6 in the afternoon, and Margaret had gotten up and left for the bathroom. He just sat there, contemplating how his life would be like once the bond broke. When Arthur died. Alfred shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent more tears from falling. He sniffled, looking up when he heard the door creek open. It was Davie at the doorway, the white smock he wore was stained red and his eyes sad. The walked slowly towards the prince before dropping to the floor, sitting down beside him. Alfred looked at him desperately, begging with his eyes.

Please say Arthur's alright! Please let him be okay!

"Alfred…" Davie said softly. He looked at the prince with a hesitant expression, before clearing his voice. "Alfred, my lord…" Alfred winced. Davie never spoke to him like that unless he had terrible news. Alfred's eyes began to water again, looking at Davie with uncertain but knowing eyes. The other one sighed heavily. "Alfred, Arthur… he didn't… he isn't…" He sighed heavily again, blinking wildly to stop his own tears. "He hasn't woken up yet, but… the wound was very deep. I don't think he'll make it." He finally said, patting the other on his back. Alfred stared at him in disappointment, but he was expecting it, the bond in the back of his head almost completely gone. But even then, Alfred couldn't help his denial.

"Are you sure you can't do anything else, Davie?" He asked weakly, letting his tears fall once more. Davie closed his eyes, trying to mask his pain. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but he closed it, opting to shake his head.

"I'm sorry."

Alfred nodded his head, rubbing his eyes roughly. "Can I see him?" He asked with a hoarse voice, standing up, ignoring how his legs shook. They had fallen asleep during the many hours. Davie cleared his throat, giving him the okay. He entered the room hesitantly, not sure about what he was going to see. He expected to a bloody mess, a face contorted into agony, pale gray skin, and for some reason, black veins. What he did see, however, was not what he was expecting.

Arthur was lying down on the surgical table, chest hardly moving. His shirt was cut off, and the prince finally got a good look at his mate's fatal wound. Davie had sewn it up, but Alfred could tell that the wound would have been at least inch wide, and a least a foot long. It stretched from his ribs to his hips and the red tissue looked inflamed. Apart from that, the brit looked peaceful, his face nowhere near as pained as he would have thought. Rather, the brit looked as he always had when he had slept, at peace and content. His porcelain skin was now a snow white, an unnatural pale that reminded the prince that Arthur wasn't sleeping, that his brit wasn't going to wake up like he always would.

Alfred slid to his knees again and cried, the sight was much more than he could handle. Davie crouched down beside him and pulled him into an embrace, and Alfred let him. The prince wouldn't normally-no- the prince would never let his emotions get the better of him in front of his subordinates, but right now, more than any, he needed a friend. After what felt like hours, the American stopped his crying and stood up, grabbing the closest chair and pulling it to the brit's bedside. He wasn't going to leave his mate like this. Arthur was, if he was still mentally conscious in his head, watching the whole ordeal, probably scared, and he too would want comfort. He was going to stay by Arthur's side to the very end, no matter how long or short.

Davie patted him on the back and left him alone. Alfred stared at his omega, hardly noticing the other's absence. He gently wrapped their hands together, frowning at how cold the other was. He looked around the room and found one of Davie's shawls, which he laid over the brit like a blanket. He sat down again, before getting up, leaning over so he could give his mate one final kiss, the bond at the back of his head practically gone, the rise and fall of the others chest even weaker. The brit was suffering a slow painful death, and he couldn't do anything to ease the pain.

You could just end it all.

Alfred glanced around the room to make sure he was alone, before speaking to his conscious. "How? ...Wait, do you mean…" The prince trailed off, looking at his mate once again. He shook his wildly, his tears falling once more. He can't… he doesn't want to…

It'll end his pain, Alfred. You couldn't protect him the first time… Don't fail him twice.

Alfred stared down in horror at the brit before him, the black veins of death spreading throughout his body. They formed deltas around his temples, and his hands, the once dainty, soft, and warm hands were now cold and dry. Arthur didn't look to be in any pain, but what if he was? The brit wouldn't survive the night, and the drugs he was given were bound to be wearing away soon. Maybe he should make the passing easier, for Arthur's sake.

Alfred stared at the brit for a few moments before pulling out his sword, sighing deeply. This was out of the love he had for Arthur. He was doing this for Arthur. He mentally chanted this as he positioned the sword to point down towards the brit's forehead. Alfred had done this many times before. He would drive the sword through his skull, killing him instantly. The body would twitch, but there would be no pain, Arthur would be on his way to heaven. Away from all of the horrors of the world, with his family.

That's all he ever wanted anyway. Alfred said a soft prayer, before returning to the task at hand. "I love you, Arthur Kirkland." And with that, he drove the sword down.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

Alfred didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up on his bed, in the dark, with a horrible headache. He rolled over to his side, only to feel something leaning against his right bicep. Alfred turned his head, and the first thing that hit him was the smell. The smell of moss on a rainy day, the soft fragrance of lavender, and the smell of freshly trimmed grass.

He knew that smell.

The prince gently removed himself from underneath his companion before rolling off the bed, bumping into the nightstand. He felt for a match and when he found it, he lit the candle. He turned his head to look back at his bed, and to his complete shock, Arthur, the one he couldn't remember killing, was laying on his bed, snoring softly. Alfred's mouth hung open as he crawled on top of the bed, eyeing the sleeping brit. The rise and fall of his chest was strong, and the closer he got, the more he could see the brit's face.

It was still deathly pale, but nowhere near as bad as it could be, and the tip of his nose had a small little red line, a cut. The black veins were still there, but they were much smaller now, the hands of death receding. Alfred tugged off the blanket that was covering the brit, and he could see that the Englishman was sporting bandages wrapped around his torso. His pants were changed, now a black pair of boxers. Alfred closed his eyes, focusing on everything but nothing at the same time.

He could feel it.

The bond, the bond that he felt disappearing had returned, stronger than when he last felt it. He couldn't help the happy cry of relief that escaped, or the way the tears were dripping from his eyes to the other's chest. He thought he was going to lose him. He thought he had already lost him.

He wanted to wake the other, hug him and kiss him wildly, but he had a feeling that it would somehow reverse the miracle that had just been performed on his mate. He got off of the bed, and headed towards the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, gasping in mild confusion when he noticed the black veins along his face. He glanced down at his hands and they too, were covered in black veins. "What's going on?" He asked quietly. He didn't expect an answer, yet alone a cry.

"AHH! AHH! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!P PLEASE!" Alfred rushed out of the bathroom, only to find the brit thrashing in his sleep, crying out as he rolled to and fro. The American jumped into action, pinning the other gently by the arms, allowing the legs to continue kicking. The brit was now sobbing, fighting back his imaginary attacker, still very much asleep.

"Arthur." The American whispered as he leaned down, towards the other's ear. "Arthur, it's me, Alfred. Don't be afraid." The brit was still crying, not paying any head to the other's words. Even then, the American didn't care, he continued to speak. "Arthur, it's okay. I don't know where you think you are, but I can tell you where you really are. You're with me, back in our room, and I want you to feel safe again. Your brothers will never hurt you again, and even though I failed you this time, it won't happen again, I swear. I will find your brothers and make them pay for what they've done to you. But on a lighter note, I thought I would never see you again. You looked like you were going to die, and basically, I was willing to kill you in order to prevent you from suffering any longer than you have. I don't know how we got here, or what day it is, but I have a feeling you do, so when you finally here me, I want you to answer me. Okay?"

"Okay" said a meek voice. Arthur had woken up, grasping on to the other's words like his life depended on it. "And I thought I would never see you again either." He added softly, his eyes glistening. Alfred looked down in worry.

"What's wrong, Arthur? What happened?" The brit looked at him with guilty eyes, shaking his head.

"I can't tell you… to be honest, I don't know much myself." The brit confessed. "Once I was knocked out, I woke up back at that barn and I read a book about suits and cards and whatever. Then the doors busted open and it was Seamus, my brother, he came to apologize for wounding me with his sword. He said he would let me wake up, and that I should soon, or else. I did, and I saw you… you were going to stab me. I don't know how I did it, but I grabbed your hand and stopped you as best I could, though, I remember my nose bleeding. You passed out, then Davie came in, called in guards to take you to your room. That was, I think, 4 days ago, you've been a coma ever since, and the wound on my side is getting better. It doesn't really hurt much, Davie said I was healing very well and very fast. Everyone's worried about you, and I'm not allowed to leave this room without Davie in fear of an attack. Even though my brothers entered through my window on the day of the attack."

Alfred processed what he had heard lazily as he kissed his omega. Alfred was too excited to think about any of those things, all he wanted was Arthur, who was clearly suffering from nightmares and delusions while he was drugged. "I don't care about that right now. I missed you and I love you so much, and I'm sorry for trying to mercy kill you." He said breathlessly, burying his nose in the other's neck to smell the omega's scent much better.

"I know, I forgive you…but" he started, which caused the American to pull back. Was he upset about it? The brit smirked as he chuckled. "I would prefer if you let me die of natural causes, and not take it upon yourself. I know, deep down, you thought it was the right thing to do, but I just wanted to let you know that I am tougher than you think." He kissed the man hovering above him once more, just a peck, he didn't want to exhaust himself.

Alfred opened his mouth, about to question the brit on the nightmare he appeared to be having only a few minutes ago, but the brit interrupted his thought with a yawn, silencing his worries. He'll always have tomorrow to ask him. He blew out the candle and gently cuddled with the brit, spooning him and absorbing the other into his person. Arthur pressed up against him, sighing happily as he slowly drifted back to sleep.


Arthur watched the American sleep, albeit creepily. However, he couldn't help but stare at the fading black veins around his eyes, on the edges of his face. The curse the brit had accidentally inflicted upon Alfred was wearing off, much to Arthur's relief. He was so worried that the other's condition would get worse he had lost plenty of hours of sleep. Like now, for example.

Oh, what curse you ask?

Well, while Arthur was in his coma, he awoke in a barn, the barn, and had a surprisingly kind discussion with Seamus, his brother. The one who stabbed him. The Englishman frowned at the memory, still ticked, even after being apologized to. He thought he was going to die, he felt his own life essence leave his body slowly. However, what Seamus had told him did validate what happened to him. Somewhat.

Flashback

Arthur woke up with a start, in a pile of hay, in a wooden, splintered stall, of a wooden splintered barn. He sat up and winced, grabbing at his side, hissing again and removing his hand. He looked down and his shirt was a bloodied mess. Arthur threw his head back down on the pile of hay, groaning out in pain. Why was he back here? Can't he spend his final moments in peace? The brit remained that way until he heard shuffling in one of the other stalls.

The brit shot his head up.

"Hello!" He called, wincing at how dry and hoarse his voice sounded. The shuffling stopped. "H-hey, I'm in this stall. I'm wounded and I-I think I need help." The brit pleaded, trying to convey his desperation as best he could. He could feel himself getting dizzier by the minute and he didn't want to find out whether or not it was possible to die in a dream and die in real life. The shuffling quickly became footsteps, steps that were heading his way. Arthur only had a split second to question what he had just done.

What if it was a madman? An evil witch? A criminal? He felt nervous, but in his state, he knew better than to ignore help. Whoever it is, can't be worse than dying. The stall door wretched open and revealed a tall man with shaggy blond hair, emerald green eyes, a brown shirt, and black trousers.

"You think?" Said Seamus as he invited himself him. Arthur hesitated a bit before growling at him angrily.

"Shut up you arse! Look what you've done! I just wanted to stay with Alfred and you kill me?!" He spat, voice dripping with rage and self pity. Seamus shrugs as he takes a seat on the pile of hay Arthur's laying on. "Get off of my pile." He huffs, reaching to push the other away but is too weak to actually do it. Seamus swats his hands away before speaking.

"Sorry Laddie!" The man chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. Arthur squinted at his accent, it was clearly foreign. "This was the only way I could chat with you privately, without your screaming son. You're not going to die. I'll fix you once I finish talking."

"Firstly, Geoffrey isn't my son, I was just babysitting for a friend. Secondly, how the hell are you going to fix me?!" Arthur was glaring at the other, and the other blond scoffed.

"Shut up and watch your mouth when you're speaking to me laddie! I don't know how it works in that fortress of yours, but it doesn't work here at home." He lectured, glaring back at the brit in challenge. Arthur didn't know what to say, should he snap at him? Seamus took his silence as an okay and he continued. "I just placed a little curse on you just in case we couldn't leave with you. It's meant to hurt, and yes, it's supposed to feel like your dying. The pain is very real. But, when I wake you up, all you have to do is grab the first thing you see, be it inanimate or a living thing, and half of the pain will be transferred to it. So it will be easier for you to recover."

Arthur frowned. "What do you want then? What couldn't you ask me in front of Allister and Dylan?" Seamus messed with his hair.

"Well, since Dylan told us about the night in the woods, I have been scaling the place, and I had seen you a couple of times, with other British people, or with the prince. Are you staying here against your will?" He asked, voice soft and sincere. Arthur relaxed his features. Seamus sounded genuinely worried for him. The brit shook his head.

"No..." He started before really thinking about the answer. "Well... I don't really care about where I am, I just want to with Alfred." He said, looking up at the barn's ceiling. "I don't particularly like the fortress, and I can't leave unless I'm accompanied anymore, so I guess I don't have a choice but be there as long as Alfred wants me to." He looked back at his brother. "Why did you guys come early?" Seamus smirked.

"We had a feeling that the mission was compromised when Elizabeta was late to delivering the letter. He gave us a map of the fortress weeks ago, it was easy to find you." He stated matter of factly.

"Whatever." The brit added playfully.

"Has the prince tried anything?" The older brother asked suddenly, narrowing his eyes at Arthur. It took the brit half a second to comprehend the question stuttering a bit as he said no. The older took the hesitation as a yes, and shot up out of his seat suddenly, face red and eyes angry. "I'm going to gut him open!" He bellowed, and Arthur swore his ears rang.

"No!" The younger pleaded. "I'm serious! He has been nothing but sweet and kind to me. We've only met about 2 months ago!" He explained to the still seething brother. Seamus turned to look at him angrily.

"Don't lie to me!" He yelled. "You didn't meet him two months ago! You two are in love, how could you be if you only met two months ago?" He implored, and Arthur hesitated to answer again.

"I... he was the only one to..." Arthur started, but trailed off, not sure if he was comfortable describing his feelings to a stranger.

"Well?" Seamus said as he plopped back down on the floor again.

"I... He..." Arthur groaned. "No one has ever made me feel as good and as special as Alfred has. He was the first person I have ever met to see the value in me and treat me with respect. He wants to protect me and he does his best to do so. He... he thinks I'm beautiful and he's sincere and he is overall the best man I have ever met. And the best part is that he loves me just as much as I love him." Arthur felt the blood rush to his cheeks and he instantly averted his eyes. Seamus stared at him wide eyed.

"You..." The older started, voiced trembling. "You really think he loves you?" He sounded exasperated, winded, as if something knocked the air out of his lungs. Then he started laughing at the top of his lungs, causing the other to frown. "To think it only takes a few compliments to have you fall in love. How emotionally depraved are you?! How lonely can someone be to really fall in love in two months!?" Arthur winced, but held his peace. It may have been two months, but it felt much longer than that, and he had no doubts in his mind that he was in love. However, Seamus kept on yapping.

"He doesn't love you, Arthur!" He chuckled out. "He is either keeping you for three reasons. 1, he find you physically appealing and has no better option. 2, He knows you're a Kirkland and can use you for some scheme against England. Or 3, he has a kink for helpless omegas and he just wants to fuck and throw you away. Trust me, he doesn't want anything to do with you." He said with an amused sigh. "He knows you're desperate for affection, and he's using it against you."

There was an awkward silence between the two, both holding their sides for different reasons. Arthur's eyes stung at the other's harsh words, but tried to brush them off. He doesn't know Alfred, if he did, he wouldn't think so lowly of him. The younger still stood silent though, afraid of another barrage of insults. "Anyway, is this conversation done? I'm not leaving Alfred, I don't care what you say." He spoke slowly, voice a little shaky. Seamus frowned.

"He has nothing to offer you. Come home with us, we're your family." He said softly, looking back at Arthur with bright eyes. The smaller scoffed. Now it was his turn to hurt Seamus.

"Family? What family? Peter was my only family and now he's dead. The two of us have been struggling, alone, for the better part of 10 years, homeless, beaten, spit on, taken advantage of. Where were you and your family then, huh? Where were you, because I remember praying every night for you guys to come and find us, for you to come and save Peter and I from the constant abuse in the tunnels. You have no idea how many times we went to sleep hungry for days in a row; how many times we had to steal, or fight, for food. You have no idea how difficult it is to be a young homeless omega in the streets of London. You haven't the slightest clue how many times I had to fight rapists off, or how often I couldn't because I was so hungry I could hardly see straight. You have no idea how it feels to be treated as if you are nothing, as if you don't matter at all!" He let the tears roll, not caring as it streaked his face.

"And you have the nerve to criticize me for falling in love with the only person who has treated me otherwise! Alfred has his flaws, but so do I, and he didn't hesitate to look past them. He respects my limits and he treats me right. He never speaks ill of or to me. He's perfect and he makes me feel safe. If I could mate him, I would, over and over and over! So if that makes me stupid, naïve, or pathetic so be it. But for the first time since the war has started I feel happy, and loved and I won't ever change that for the world. Especially for a trio of idiots who thinks breaking into my room through the window and stabbing me is a good way of showing how much they care." His face was pink and his eyes alight. Seamus had an unreadable expression, but he remained silent for a while.

A few minutes pass before the older speaks up again. "I still think you are making a horrible mistake." He said bluntly, reaching over and taking his younger brother's hand. Arthur didn't know how he felt about it, but he allowed the action, even squeezing the other's. "But... I will try to respect it for now. But the second I see any sign, any omen, pointing me to you, I am retrieving you myself and slicing the prince's throat." Arthur flinched. "I mean it." Seamus added, squeezing the other's hand for good measure. He leaned toward the brit, who closed his eyes, allowing the older to kiss his forehead. The Englishman forced all tension from his body, calming himself down. This stranger was his brother, whether he liked it or not.

"And what do you mean if you could mate, you would?" He asked quietly against the other's forehead. Arthur sighed before telling him about his infertility. "Huh? Oh, mom had that issue, didn't she? She had her heat late. Your's is probably coming soon." Arthur shook his head, not believing. "Well, a little magical research can help then. Don't give up hope, you still have a chance." Arthur nodded, never having thought about a magical solution to his problem.

"Okay." He said softly.

"You have to go." Seamus said suddenly, panicked. His eyes looked wild as he glanced around. "Something's about to happen to your body." He stared at Arthur one more time before chanting quietly beneath his breath.

A sudden chill zapped down his spine, pain shot through his body and he spasmed.


Arthur woke up and everything was in slow motion. Standing above him was a tear streaked American driving a sword into him. The brit's instinct kicked in, his hands grabbing the prince's and using all of his strength to hold them back. He couldn't stop the yell that escaped his lips as he saw the black veins of his arms shoot into his hands, transferring to the distraught knight above him.

Alfred screamed in pain and collapsed, sword sliding across the room. Arthur wanted to check on him, but his side was so sore, he didn't want to move it. So instead, he cried for help. "Davie!" He shouted.

"Guards! Guards! The prince is in danger!" He yelled as loud as he could. Footsteps, heavy footsteps. The door busted open as the guards ran in, Davie the first to do so. His eyes widening impossibly, hopping to Arthur's side.

"Arthur? You're awake, what's going on?" He stated. "You were dying a moment ago, how are you feeling now? Why are still alive? I'm not upset or whatever, just curious, you had us worried sick." He said as he looked down at Alfred frowning. He began to talk to the other guards. "Take him to his chambers, i will be there very soon." He ordered, and the guards picked the American up and took him away.

"I feel like I'm dying." He lied, the pain wasn't anywhere near as painful as it was earlier, but that was only because he had given it to Alfred. Accidentally, of course. "As for what's going on, I woke up and Alfred on lying on the ground." He lied again. Davie looked puzzled, staring at the brit with an uncomfortable intensity as he tried to make sense of the situation. Perhaps the knight didn't realize he was staring at the brit as if he was some artifact, but Arthur cleared his throat in an attempt to alert the other he was doing so. Davie blinked, clearing his throat.

"Do you remember how you came across the wound?" He asked, picking up a clipboard. Arthur told him. "Do you remember if you felt any immediate pain?" Arthur told him. "While unconscious, do you recall any lucid dreams or hallucinations?" Arthur hesitated, about to mention his brother's name.

"No, I don't think so." He lied, smiling softly. Davie nodded, though his eyes were narrow. He went over to the nurse's desk and picked up a roll of bandages and some linen rags. He placed the linen rag on the stitched wound and applied a slight pressure. Arthur winced, Davie stopping to make sure he was okay.

"Just hold this here." He ordered as the brit held the cloth in place. Davie gripped him by his shoulders and forced him into a sitting position, which the brit scolded him about angrily. The knight wrapped him up with the bandages, before clamping the cloth down to keep it from unraveling. He sat down beside the brit quietly, studying him again. Arthur scowled at him, causing the American to laugh. "You look adorable, but at the same time really creepy. It's a good look though, the black veins really bring out the hatred in your eyes." That had Arthur laughing too, and the two chuckled there for a moment.

"Am I free to leave? Or do I have to stay for some test?" Arthur asked as he stared longingly at the door. He had a sudden urge to be with his mate, but he had a feeling he would be barred from him for some time. Davie sighed,running his hands through his hair.

"We'll need you to spend the night here, where the maids and I will watch over you. But if all goes well, you be back in your chambers in a week or two-"

"WEEK OR TWO?!" Why did he need to be there for a week, the pain didn't feel that bad! It was now Davie who was scowling.

"Don't be an idiot. That wound is much deeper than it looks, and it's a miracle you're even alive. We need to watch over you just in case you fall into a coma, or if you feel intense pains, or if you get a fever. You're only halfway through the tunnel, you need to be watched to make sure you don't die of an infection." He scolded harshly, causing the brit to shrink back. Davie sighed. "Ughh, I'm sorry... Just... we're worried." He said finally, rubbing his temples. "I had to tell Alfred that you were going to die earlier, and now you're okay, but he doesn't know that, and now he's in unconscious because he probably did something stupid to himself, like drink something off of my desk or hit himself, I... I'm just stressed." Arthur smiled softly, before putting a hand on his good hip.

"Alfred's going to be fine, trust me. But as for me, I have a 100% survival rate, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine. I don't think I need to stay, but I will if it would calm you down." Davie smirked at his declaration, nodding appreciatively. He stood up a bit later, excusing himself so he could check on Alfred.

Flashback end

That was almost a week ago, and he could still remember Davie's shock when he went to check on the wound the next day and it was clotting. The brit was healing much faster than he had ever seen before, at least that's what Davie said. The next day Arthur's wound was at least halfway through the healing process, it didn't even hurt unless you applied pressure on it. He could walk unhindered and could laugh without any pains. By the third day Davie gave him the permission to go to his chambers, not before taking a strand of his hair, a sample of his saliva, and a spec of blood to run some tests on. Arthur was weirded out, but he didn't mind, all he cared about was going back to his room.

When he had gotten there, a nurse had told him that Alfred hadn't woken up once, but that his vitals were getting better each day and that he should be up and running in no time. She gave the brit instructions as for how to care for him while she was gone, and she left, waving them goodbye. Every 1 hour or so he would soak a rag in warm water and place it on the American's forehead. Arthur would blush whenever Alfred whispered his name throughout the evening, and he would read books to pass the time, sometimes reading them out loud for the prince to hear.

Arthur would sleep on his good side while cuddling the prince, and it was becoming a routine until Alfred woke him that one night he had had a nightmare, one he could hardly remember now, and the two embraced. Arthur swore the other had never looked so happy to see him. Since then, the American has woken rather late in the day with a painful headache and a nauseous stomach. He took a lot of naps though, which gave Arthur an opportunity to stare at the prince's progress, like how he was doing now.