Holy fast updates Batman! Okay in reality History Channel has been pimping out US History lately and as a result my muse went chaotic. You guys should check out their latest installment that's coming out April 25th called "America: The History of Us." I am trying not to get my hopes up too high, but it does look fantastic. Enough of my history fangirling – Onto the story!
Wait I forgot, if anyone is interested I might make a soundtrack list of the songs that keep me writing this. :D Just lemme know if you are. Thanks loves! Reviews are greatly appreciated. Now onto the story, for reals.
It didn't take long to brush down the mare and get her comfortable in the barn with the other animals. Once finished he went and sat down on the front porch, blue eyes fixed on the orange glow from the city. He sat there until the sun rose over the horizon.
Arthur still hadn't returned, and he wondered if maybe he'd be gone for the entire day. It was both a relief and somewhat strange that he'd leave and trust Alfred to not cause any trouble. So soon after the war. But if he knew Arthur, he was probably trying to fix things between them. Rebuild the broken friendship, and this was his way of doing so.
...That or he had someone hiding out to keep an eye on him, which Alfred found to be a lot more likely.
He casually got to his feet, and brushed off his pants while he glanced around. There weren't any obvious red spots that stuck out. That didn't mean they weren't hiding somewhere, but if they had wouldn't they have done something about him leaving last night? Al frowned to himself.
Sneaking around and being well, sneaky, had never been one of his best skills. Or rooting out other people who were actually good at it.
Alfred smiled to himself as he walked inside. He had the whole day to try and find any soldiers Arthur had left behind to watch him. The house was quiet, peaceful. Alfred took in a deep breath, held it, and then let it out. When Arthur was here it was so tense, and he felt – Not helpless, but dependent, and it worried him.
Being dependent on Arthur was exactly what he had fought to break free from. The war had been bloody, and he'd first hand witnessed the strength with which the British Empire fought, but it hadn't been for the same reasons. His independence was so important, still was. Alfred stopped and stared at the door to Arthur's office.
His people had felt wronged, were no longer seen as equals in their British counterparts eyes. Even Arthur had used the term 'Yanks', and that was on his better days. Alfred could see the disdain in the way the British soldiers looked at him. Nothing more than a country bumpkin with dreams.
He'd been so close to achieving those dreams, and his efforts had set the British on the run many times. It had weakened Arthur as well, he could see it in the way the older nation held himself. The way he spoke and how he seemed so tired.
Had France just stepped in, offered something more substantial than monetary aid...Alfred sighed and stepped close enough to place his hand on the doorknob. A shock ran through his fingers and he quickly let go. Well, that was one way of knowing for sure that Arthur did not want him snooping around.
Not yet then. After he met with the delegates he would consider breaking the seal and getting into the office. No doubt Arthur would be furious when he did, and so he'd bide his time.
Time moved agonizingly slow, and Alfred often found himself outside, pacing back and forth with a few rabbits hopping about him as he did. Earlier he'd found the two soldiers who'd been left behind to watch him.
It hadn't been as hard as he'd anticipated since they regularly took breaks. Sitting in a tree could be really uncomfortable if you weren't used to it. The sun was setting, and that was his cue. Alfred smirked as he walked over to one of the soldier's locations.
He stopped beneath the tree and glanced up at the redcoat who regarded him with a bored expression. "Aren't you hungry?" Alfred broke the silence with an easygoing smile.
The soldier was young, probably hadn't seen much if any of the fighting before. He didn't say anything but kept an eye on Alfred as though if he looked away for a moment he'd be gone the next.
"Com'oooon, it's boring with Arthur gone and I'm hungry so I figure I'd offer some dinner to you." Alfred explained it with a wave of one hand, and the soldier only looked at him with more skepticism. He stood there patiently, and looked fixedly at the soldier as he waited for an answer.
His staring eventually wore down the soldier's resolve, "Not to talk or interact with you. Mr. Kirkland's orders."
The kid sounded younger than he looked. Alfred rolled his eyes, "Yeah well I'm hungry," and on a tight time schedule "and I bet you're hungry so stop being stubborn. Artie isn't here anyway." Alfred hadn't planned on using that nickname again, but if it convinced the soldier that they were on better terms than they actually were...
And viola! The kid groaned and began to climb down from his perch. Alfred smiled happily and then turned and led the way back to the house, but instead he took a turn towards the back. He knelt down and pulled open the doors to the cellar.
He glanced over his shoulder, the kid looked mighty uncertain now. "Sorry, gotta grab some stuff. Mind helping?"
There was a moment of hesitation before the redcoat obliged and followed Alfred down. Alfred picked up what would be a fairly heavy bag of potatoes for anyone else and casually tossed it to the soldier. He barely caught it, and kept a hold of it.
Alfred walked over and patted him on the shoulder. "Sorry about this." The kid frowned "Wha-" and then he was out cold, Alfred's fist still hovered in the air. Alfred pulled the bag of potatoes off of him and moved him so he'd be a little more comfortable.
One down, one to go.
He closed and locked the cellar doors once he was outside again. Alfred jogged over to where the other soldier should be. He slowed to a brisk walk as he got closer to the barn. Sure enough the soldier was leaning against the side of the barn and was watching the road.
"Uhm, your friend passed out and I sorta wanna get him to a doctor or somethin' could you help me get a horse saddled up?" Alfred's words ran together, but the soldier came to attention quickly enough and was in the barn before Al even had a chance to clarify.
It seemed like neither of the soldiers were supposed to talk to him, figures. Alfred frowned and walked into the barn. The stallion flicked its head and gave the soldier what could pass for a glare. It didn't go unnoticed by the soldier who decided the mare was a safer choice for saddling.
Al fidgeted as he grabbed one of the empty wooden buckets he used to fill the horse's feed. The soldier was mumbling under his breath about how useless yanks were when Alfred made his move. He slammed the bucket down over the top of the man's head and jerked the handle under his chin.
While he was still stunned Alfred took the nearby length of rope and began tying his wrists together. He then none too gently kicked behind the soldier's knees, forcing him to the ground.
Within mere seconds he had him tied to a post in the middle of the barn, rope looped through the knots on his wrists and secured around the post behind his back. He also tied together his ankles together and knotted them, just to be safe.
The bucket muffled his shouts, but Alfred could still make out some colorful curses that would have made a sailor blush. "Sorry, sorry!" Alfred really was sorry. If Arthur hadn't left them behind he wouldn't of had to do this.
Ah well, life goes on, and it wasn't as though he had hurt them – Permanently. Maybe just their pride. Alfred went over to the stallion who, if he wasn't mistaken, was snickering. He frowned and gently patted him on the nose. "It's not funny, you wouldn't like a bucket over your head either." He chided the horse gently, who snorted in reply.
Al cracked a smile at that and then saddled the stallion. He decided that he wouldn't ride out on a whim without the proper equipment this time His thighs still burned from having done so just the other day.
When he led the stallion out of the barn the sun was just dipping beneath the horizon.
There was no time left to waste. Alfred took off at a gallop, kicking up dust in his wake as they took a direct route to the city. The address from the letter at the forefront of his thoughts.
It wasn't too difficult to find the address, but what was hard was figuring out what to do after he got there. The building was a local pub, and Alfred was at a loss for what to do once there. So he went and sat in one of the corner tables, and watched his people play cards, drink, and share stories or bits of news.
Alfred had taken to tracing the etches in the tabletop. What else was he to do? The address wasn't wrong, of that he was certain. Though the hope he'd just so recently gained was beginning to dwindle. Maybe something had happened, or it had been...A mistake.
A shadow fell across his forearms and he couldn't help but glower at whoever it was. He was slipping into a terrible mood.
Whoever it was had a hood up, which was weird. "Come on United States, we've got a lot to discuss." Their words were low, meant only for his ears, and Alfred perked up instantly. He got to his feet and followed after the cloaked man. They weaved through the drunks to the kitchen, and then up a flight of stairs to the private backrooms.
The man knocked on the door third down the hall and was given a few knock in response. He tapped twice and then the door swung open. He walked in and gestured for Alfred to do the same. Alfred took in a breath and then stepped into the candlelit room.
As soon as he stepped in the door was shut and bolted behind him, but he paid it no mind. Here he was, in a room with his delegates. His gaze shifted from one to another, taking them in. Among the faces were John Jay, George Clymer, and James Madison. He was frozen where he stood, happy, and shocked all at once.
Clymer was the first to get from his seat. "My dear boy!" And that was all it took. Alfred fell to his knees, shoulders shaking as he sobbed and laughed at the same time.
The men were quick to spring from their seats and rush over to their nation. He was afraid to blink, afraid that they might somehow vanish in the short span of time. "You're here! Really, really here!" Alfred was smiling, tears of joy, and especially relief falling from his eyes.
Another of his delegates, Robert Morris looked Alfred in the eyes. "Yes, yes and we're not as young and full of energy as you are. We have a long night ahead of us." The chiding remark was betrayed by the glint of humor in his eyes.
Alfred laughed and reached up to wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffing as he did. "I just missed you guys is all." And after the hangings he desperately needed reassurances of their good health.
He shakily got to his feet and sat down in a chair at the table as the delegates returned to their seats. Some stood since there wasn't enough room for everyone to sit at the table, but they didn't seem to mind.
"You've heard of the raids in the North?" This question came from Madison. Alfred nodded his head and then another delegate jumped in. "Yes well they're taking place across all the states, but the redcoats are trying to keep it quiet." The word 'redcoat' was all but spit out.
Alfred frowned and scratched at the back of his neck, trying to shift into the professional setting that he had been away from for so long. "I don't follow. What exactly are these raids?"
It was Madison again who this time shuffled the various papers across the table and took out one that was a list of some sort. He pushed it over so Alfred could read it. "Most of them are night attacks or raids when they least expect them."
"Savage tactics." Alfred mouthed the words with a grin. It was what Arthur had called them during the war. Dirty, cowardly strikes where his patriots would kill British officers first and attack the supply columns for the British army.
He glanced up, "All across the states?" Most of the delegates nodded in affirmation.
Alfred chewed on his bottom lip. "And what's with the South?" Madison looked troubled by his question. "You can't tell for yourself?" A few of the older delegates who had been closer to Alfred shared the worried expression. Alfred had been deeply connected to his country, to each state. He usually knew what was happening before they did.
Alfred shrugged a shoulder, "I'm not really sure anymore...Arth-England has been - My thoughts are all mixed up lately. I feel things, but I don't know what they are anymore." He glanced away, "Especially since..." The hangings was left unsaid.
Clymer who was sitting on one side of Alfred placed one hand on his shoulder. "No worries, it's what we're here for." He smiled reassuringly.
Madison cleared his throat, "Well then we'll fill you in on the South." He looked to Morris.
"The British are trying to take control of the plantations, and by extension the goods being produced." Alfred looked confused, and Morris continued. "Which isn't all too unusual, but they are leaving soldiers stationed there and are taking the profits of the trade. Many of the slaves are being shipped overseas to England, and they are leaving the plantations in poor conditions."
Alfred bit down on his bottom lip, "So, what you're saying is that the British are pretty much making Americans prisoners of their homes while they reap the profits of their land?"
Morris nodded, mouth set in a grim line.
"Oh, that's just gonna make them angry." Alfred knew what the Southern states could be like, and how they would fight tooth and nail for their rights. The British had no idea how close the pot was to boiling over.
Alfred sighed, "Okay so what else?"
The delegates proceeded to explain the purpose of the patriots who were attacking the supply routes and taking out key British officials with their attacks. There was a system set in place that kept them all informed of their targets, but unaware of who else was involved in each 'unit'. For safety reasons, Madison explained. The raids left the British scared and sleep deprived, among other things.
Small skirmishes were being fought much as they had before the war began, and hangings were becoming commonplace. Apparently it didn't take much to be accused of treason and hung for their crimes, or lack thereof.
Alfred nodded and listened to them with rapt attention, trying to put every detail to memory.
"We've received no word from Franklin or Adams, but if we intend to finish this as Americans then there is something we must do – With or without their help." Clymer spoke with determination lacing his words.
A silence fell over the room, and Alfred couldn't help but look around at the men and then finally to Clymer. "And that is?" He hated being out of the loop.
Clymer turned to Alfred. "We need to save George Washington." He leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. "He is the hero of the American people. While we all played our role," Clymer made a broad gesture indicating the delegates, "Washington is the one who the people rallied behind." Alfred opened his mouth to protest but Clymer shook his head.
"No, it's true and you know it. We are fine with it, but because of his fame we can't afford to lose him. If he hangs the war is truly lost."
An uncomfortable silence followed Clymer's words, but they each knew he was right. Alfred especially. He had fought alongside the energetic and altogether fascinating General. Washington commanded attention. His height, strength, and easygoing nature drew people to him.
If he died...Alfred felt his stomach curl at the thought. "So what are we going to do?" He all but breathed the question to his delegates.
Madison nodded, "We were hoping you'd ask that."
Arthur hadn't anticipated to be gone as long as he had. It didn't feel right leaving Alfred so soon, especially when things were still so raw and wrong between them.
He'd gone to the latest location of a night raid. The wagon was still burning when he'd arrived with the other officers, and there was nothing to be done but discuss how to stop these antics. Terror was not Arthur's choice of control, but it seemed like the King felt otherwise, and he'd do as he was told. His King knew best.
Arrangements had been made and plans written down with his Generals. Arthur had reached his limit when he saw three more areas where attacks had taken place. All that was left at each were the charred remains of wagons and the bodies of British soldiers. The attacks were sickeningly familiar to those during the revolution.
If only the colonists would bloody behave it would make things so much easier.
Arthur rode home alone, having insisted his officers take guard of the roads and arrest any suspicious persons. Tired, he rode up closer to the house. First thing to do was check in with the scouts. He wished he could trust Alfred, as he once had.
He shrugged to himself and carefully got down from the horse's back and walked the rest of the way to the barn. The cool night air had likely pushed this scout inside where he could watch from the window in the loft.
He opened the large door, and lit up a lantern to better see by. Arthur almost dropped it in surprise when he saw his scout tied to a post in the middle of the barn, with a bucket on his head. He could feel his jaw clenching already.
Arthur strode over and roughly took the bucket off of the soldier's head. "Where is he?" His words were clipped, and the tone a prime example of why people simply did not get on Britannia's bad side.
"He took the stallion sir." The soldier squared his shoulders, trying to look as presentable as one could when tied to a post. "Headed to town I'd say. He went there last night as well."
Arthur straightened and walked back to his horse.
"Are - Are you going to leave me here?" The soldier asked, clearly unsure of what to do. Arthur didn't look over his shoulder as he replied, "Consider it your punishment for being so bloody stupid." Honestly. He had told them exactly what not to do concerning the colony, and obviously they hadn't listened.
Arthur didn't even want to try and find the other scout, no doubt Alfred had done something equally embarrassing to him. It'd only frustrate him more. The fools could deal with the consequences of their actions for the rest of the night.
He swung himself into the saddle and set off at a gallop towards the city. If Alfred would only behave through force, then by God he'd use it.
Alfred's eyes were drooping. His head rested in the palm of his hand, elbow balanced on the table. He kept drifting off and would jerk awake only when he began leaning on Clymer next to him. How did they stay up so late and function?
He yawned, for what was probably the hundredth time that night.
Madison smiled, "I think we should let our young charge return home before he drools all over important documents."
Alfred jerked awake, "No 'Ahm awake." His words slurred somewhat, and the delegates shared a laugh at his expense, but even Alfred smiled. "Please Alfred, we'll have plenty of time to discuss, and already we've touched the most important issues." Alfred wasn't sure which delegate said that.
Clymer gently took Alfred by the elbow and got him to his feet. "And we should be getting our rest as well, it will be dawn soon."
He nodded and headed for the door. Alfred stopped and turned once there, looking each of his delegates in the eyes. "Be careful, I can't handle another...I can't." His voice choked off before he could finish. Another hanging might make him snap, and he couldn't let them down.
Madison walked over and placed both hands on Alfred's shoulders. "Stand strong son. Remember who you are." United States of America.
Alfred nodded and patted one of Madison's hands. With one last look he turned and left the room, stumbling down the stairs and out towards the holding area where his horse had been taken care of for the evening.
The stallion looked bored with his surroundings and snorted in Alfred's hair as a greeting. "Mornin' to you too." Alfred took the reins and walked out and into the streets. He didn't trust himself to ride just yet, best to walk and get the blood pumping again.
Alfred was too tired to even notice the sound of a horse clip clopping closer.
"Enjoying yourself?"
Alfred's blood went cold. Adrenaline shot through his body and he was suddenly wide awake.
"Uh oh."
HISTORY TIME! Okay so some of the delegates mentioned here have a special place in my History heart. You might recall George Walton from the earlier chapter. The last delegate to hang. Walton, along with George Clymer and Robert Morris were the only delegates to stay behind when Sir Henry Clinton(British General) threatened to overtake Philadelphia. The rest of congress got the hell outta dodge, so to speak. The British made a point of destroying Clymer's home, which sucks. Robert Morris is also mentioned. He's a super awesome financial guy who loaned 10,000 dollars to Washington during the war. Aweeesome. I included John Jay because he, like Madison is a key Founding Father of America. Also I love the awkward moments that no doubt take place between him and Madison due to opposing views on certain topics.