Hello everyone! I've decided to add a prize for a lucky reviewer! It'll be for a certain number, I.E the 27th, 30th reviewer. It could be for any review from 21-31. So if I make it the 26th, then whoever is my 26th reviewer gets the prize. (So good luck! :D) I'll write a Hetalia one-shot of their choice, if they want. :] Should they decide not to then it goes to the reviewer before and so on and so forth. HUZZAH.
Special thanks to Yuna's Aeon and PureWhiteMagic. Your reviews are so nice. T_T
There was no mistaking that voice, but the tone was distinctly different from the one he was used to hearing. No doubt Arthur reserved it for when he was very mad. Alfred supposed this was one of those moments.
He didn't move, just looked ahead and hoped that maybe he was just really tired and hearing things. Yeah that was it.
Arthur urged the horse forward, and Alfred knew there was no mistaking it for his imagination. Oh crap.
He pressed closer against the stallion's side, the reins slipping from his fingers as he held onto the saddle instead. His mind was screaming at him to do something, anything, but his body apparently wasn't listening.
Alfred was now pressed between two horses, with Arthur sitting tall atop his own. Al opted for staring at the ground, worried about what he'd see when he looked at Arthur's face.
"Get on." Arthur's words were clipped short. Each syllable enunciated.
His face heated up but he didn't say anything, and turned to pull himself into the saddle.
"I didn't say 'your horse'."
Alfred bit down on his bottom lip and glanced over his shoulder to look up at Arthur. He wasn't serious was he? The cold, detached expression didn't give him much hope.
"What?" He asked dumbly.
Arthur regarded him with a cool gaze, appearing calm despite the bubbling anger just beneath the surface. The way Alfred acted only confirmed that the boy knew he'd done something wrong, and that he'd willingly done so just made Arthur feel so, so...Hurt, and betrayed. Thankfully the anger overwhelmed the pain.
After letting Alfred fidget uncomfortably for a while Arthur spoke again, "I'll lead your horse as you clearly can't be trusted. Get-On." There was no questioning the command in those last two words.
Alfred hesitated, looking over towards the pub where he noticed a few figures sneaking off and then back to Arthur. "But what-" He snapped his mouth shut when Arthur narrowed his eyes. Lately he had been witness to the sides of Arthur he hadn't ever known existed. The looks the nation were capable of spoke a thousand untold words.
Most of which were really, really angry right now.
Alfred bit down on his tongue but handed Arthur the reins of his horse anyway. After shoving down his pride Alfred grabbed the saddle and pulled himself up behind Arthur. He sat back as far as he could, face warm with embarrassment.
His fingers dug into the back of the saddle, knuckles white as he tried to keep from touching Arthur as much as possible. It wasn't like Arthur could even know what he'd been doing in town, and if he so much as suspected it – Al figured he'd be in a lot more trouble.
The short ride home was awkward. It was increasingly so when they got home and Alfred had to brush down both his and Arthur's horse under the scrutiny of the soldier still tied to the post. Having that glare focused on him left an itch between his shoulder blades the whole time.
When both horses were clean and had feed he went over and began untying the mess of knots he'd used to keep the soldier tied to the post.
"Don't touch those damn Yank!" Al rocked back onto his heels for a moment. "You want to stay tied up like this?" Alfred didn't get it. The soldier scoffed, "Kirkland's orders, so bugger off."
Alfred was surprised that Arthur would willingly leave the man tied to a post just because of what he'd done. It wasn't like the soldier knew what he'd been planning. He shrugged to himself and finished working out the knots of rope.
"Well you're more than welcome to sit here, but I don't want this rope just sawed through because you redcoats don't know how to make a knot." Or untie one. Alfred smiled as he teased the soldier, who let loose a bark of laughter at Alfred's remark.
Once finished he got to his feet and brushed off his hands, "Mkay then no hard feelings right?" Alfred waved as he walked out of the barn, the soldier still sitting against the post.
"Tying knots. Such a Yank." The man kept mumbling to himself, and Alfred couldn't help but laugh a little. Well, at least that one wasn't too angry with him. Time to make amends with the one he'd left in the cellar. Arthur had told him to go straight into the house after taking care of the horses, but Alfred had finished that quickly so he probably wouldn't notice.
Al hurried over to the cellar, unlocking the doors and opening them so he could lean in. "The doors are unlocked, but uhm I wouldn't come out until daylight." No reply. Oh well, he had tried at least.
He closed the cellar doors, and hesitated as he turned to the house. Arthur had been silent the entire ride home. That was a bad sign. Usually Arthur would shout, or call him all sorts of insulting names, but not this time.
There was no telling just how mad Arthur was. Well, might as well get it over with.
He took in a deep breath before entering the house. Arthur wasn't in his office this time, but sitting in the small room just off of the kitchen. He sat in the elaborate looking chair that was from some British designer or something. It looked out of place in the rustic home.
Arthur had a pot of tea next to him, and what looked like an untouched steaming cup as well. Dark green eyes flicked over to Alfred briefly and then to the chair across from him. The meaning wasn't lost on Alfred, subtle as it was.
He trudged over and sat down in the chair opposite Arthur, the ticking of the grandfather clock the only sound aside from the tapping of Al's foot.
Alfred glanced between the teapot to Arthur to the clock and then finally to the ground. He didn't want to be the first to say something. This was probably Arthur's way of making him nervous, drawing out the inevitable. It was working.
Now Arthur was looking at him, and the tension seemed to get even worse. He cracked under the pressure. "I don't see why you're so mad." Alfred's voice was hushed as he spoke.
Arthur didn't so much as blink at the response. "No?" He phrased it as though he were curious, but the one word sent a shiver down Alfred's spine. Arthur placed one elbow on the arm of the expensive looking chair, arm bent up so he could rest his chin atop his knuckles.
"Then enlighten me as to why you decided to not only tie up my soldiers, but go into town when you'd apparently been there the night before." Arthur folded one leg over the other, and Alfred felt like he wasn't talking to Arthur anymore, but to the British Empire.
Alfred frowned, "I only tied up one of them!" He flinched when Arthur raised one large eyebrow, but plowed on anyhow, "The other was locked in the cellar and it wasn't their fault that I-" He was cut off when Arthur raised his other hand, cutting him off from saying anything further.
"They had orders, and they disregarded them." One corner of Arthur's lips lifted slightly. "Are you telling me how to deal with my own men?"
That was when Alfred realized how thin of ice he was treading on. He shook his head quickly, glancing down, "I just feel bad for them." It was his fault that they were in trouble with Arthur. A loud laugh jerked Alfred's gaze back up.
"What's so funny?" He could tell when he was the brunt of a joke, and he definitely was right now.
Just as abruptly the laughing stopped and Arthur leaned forward. "Do you know why you lost the war Alfred?" He asked it as though they were discussing the weather. "Or maybe why you still treat my soldiers with such compassion?"
Alfred frowned and began to scoot the chair he was in backwards. One of Arthur's legs lashed out and he dragged the chair closer to him, his foot wrapped around the front leg. The display of casual strength left Alfred gaping at the smaller man.
"Because you are loyal." The small smile from before was now a blatant smirk. "The loyalists of your people were greater than you had thought, and still remain loyal to the Crown." And by extension, Arthur.
Alfred had...He had felt the loyalists before. The guilt in the back of his mind that gnawed at his sanity on some nights during the war, but they hadn't been that prominent.
The overwhelming demand for freedom from his people was greater than that of the loyalists. Alfred frowned softly. "Your soldiers are people, like mine. Just because they're British has nothing to do with it..." Alfred didn't sound too certain anymore.
"Oh I think it has everything to do with it." Arthur, on the other hand sounded confident. "In fact your loyalists continue to help. Some even lead the hunt for your patriots." Just like the delegates had spat the word redcoats earlier that evening, Arthur did the same of 'patriots.'
Something in him snapped. If the loyalists were stronger than his patriots – Then what of the delegates? Was all their planning for nothing? Alfred's shoulders slumped forward and his head fell.
This was worse than anything he could have expected from Arthur. He was anticipating shouts or even physical fighting, but not this reminder of the older nation's authority over him. Of his people's dedication to the tyranny that King George embodied.
Alfred was dragged from his thoughts when Arthur's hands cupped the sides of his face. Their eyes met.
"Is it so terrible to be a colony, my colony?" The British Empire was gone, and Alfred was looking at the Arthur he remembered. Alfred briefly considered telling Arthur how it felt to have his lands used for his profit, to be nothing more than another landmark on the map of the world. Another colony of Arthur's.
No. Even if he were to tell him, to explain in great detail how much he longed for freedom – Arthur would never understand. He wanted to be so much more, and he wanted to share his people's brilliance with the world. To spread the ideals of democracy, of the equality they so desired.
A mere colony could never do that.
Even if there were loyalists, and even if they demanded to be heard; Alfred had to trust in his delegates, and had to hope that this time they would be heard above the British sympathizers.
"I can't...Stay here, locked up." Alfred danced around the question about being Arthur's colony. He couldn't flat out lie to Arthur, and if he told him the truth...
Arthur's hands dropped away from Alfred's face. Alfred's blunt avoidance of answering his question was so obvious it hurt. He didn't press the issue though. "Of course not, which is why you'll be returning to England with me."
Alfred couldn't have been more surprised, "But this is my-Our land," he corrected himself quickly, "and if neither of us is here..." He didn't follow Arthur's logic.
Arthur reached over and took a small sip of the tea that was much cooler than before. "It is only until the other delegates are found. Then we'll return, but I believe a change of scenery will improve your mood."
"When?" Alfred was trying to be as cooperative as possible. He could handle Arthur, knew what to expect with him. The angry and manipulative side of him from before left Alfred uncertain, and vulnerable.
Arthur had grabbed a book off of the small side table next to his chair and began to read it. "Three days from now."
Alfred almost gasped. Three days? This was going to make things a lot more difficult.
He got up from the chair, which was hard to do without bumping into Arthur since they were so close. "I should go pack then."
All he got for a response was a noncommittal 'hm' from Arthur. He sighed softly and then walked away, palms wet.
Once in his room he looked down to his hands. He hadn't realized that during the conversation his fingers had been curled so tightly that his nails had left small crescent shaped cuts in his skin.
Alfred grabbed a washcloth off the bedside table and began scrubbing at the blood.
Three days.
He tossed the slightly red washcloth aside once done. Three days met that he'd have to make his move soon. The delegates would no doubt be surprised. This wasn't supposed to happen so quickly, but he had little choice in the matter.
Alfred reached for the rabbit on the desk and held it to his chest. He sat on the edge of his bed while thinking about what Ar-The British Empire had said.
"Do you know why you lost the war Alfred?"
The words kept ringing over and over in his head. If the delegates were to be believed, then the war wasn't over. Maybe in the minds of the British, but the American people were still fighting.
That meant that he had the upper hand. The last thing Arthur, or his generals expected was a revival of the patriots within the colonies. Even with the nightly raids and the Southerners speaking out, it seemed as though they were isolated incidents. The dying remnants of a revolution.
But the delegates knew better. Alfred knew better. He held on tighter to the plush bunny and then held it out at arms length, looking at it sadly.
His fingertips trailed across the stitches that adorned its neck, the black thread sticking out against the white fur.
He then laid back on his bed and drifted off to sleep. The plush rabbit was cradled against his chest, body curled protectively around it.
Alfred groaned, still sleepy despite the sun pouring in through his window. It wasn't too late in the morning, which meant he'd only gotten a few hours of sleep. When was the last time he'd gotten a full nights rest?
Another sleepy moan and he was sitting up, stretching one arm towards the ceiling while the other instinctively held onto the small stuffed rabbit. He rubbed at one eye, and wondered when he'd thought to grab a blanket to cover himself with. Alfred pulled the quilt up so he could look at it more closely. This wasn't one he kept anywhere in his room.
Then he heard the soft breathing. He looked up to find Arthur sitting in a chair, chin resting against his chest as he slept. Alfred's chest tightened, and he tried to force the warm feeling to go away.
He sat there, quilt around his shoulders and watched Arthur sleep. It wasn't long before Arthur woke up and noticed the young blond gazing at him. He felt his face heat up a little, but kept a calm face as he faced the colony.
Arthur got to his feet, acting as though this were completely normal. "Would you like some breakfast?" He asked while he pushed the chair back under the small desk.
Alfred nodded, and murmured a quiet yes. He looked down to the rabbit and set it aside. Today was going to be a long day. He washed up quickly and put on some clothes that didn't, as Arthur put it 'reek of horse sweat.'
By the time he got to the kitchen there was what looked like burnt scones (ugh) and tea set out on the table. Arthur was dressed in his military uniform and had apparently already eaten. How did he get dressed and eat so quickly?
"Some of my Generals will be arriving today to discuss private matters." Alfred could read the implicit message in his statement. 'Don't cause any trouble.' He hadn't expected Arthur to have any important gatherings in his home. Then again maybe Arthur just didn't want to let Alfred out from under his nose again.
That would make things a lot more complicated.
Alfred nodded his head and sat down to eat. He should have offered to make something instead. Some fried hash with eggs maybe. His stomach growled at the thought. Maybe another time. He set to eating while Arthur read papers that were probably important, occasionally glancing over to Alfred.
"Today you should consider cleaning out the barn and getting anything ready for when we leave." Arthur knew all too well how messy Alfred tended to be.
"Mkay." Alfred said through a mouthful of food which earned him a glare from Arthur. He rolled his eyes and swallowed the food before repeating. "Okay." That seemed to appease the Brit, and then Alfred headed for the front door so he could get started on the barn.
It'd give him time to think, and figure out a way to sneak out without Arthur finding out too quickly. Or at all preferably.
On his walk across the yard he saw the Generals who Arthur was expecting ride in, sitting proud atop their horses. He frowned and stopped when they rode by, none giving him so much as a passing glance.
Stuffy redcoats.
Alfred opened both the doors to the barn and then the stall doors, letting the various animals out to roam the land. They never traveled far, and if they did it usually was only to the nearby stream. He sighed and partially shoved a cow out of its stall. Stubborn animal.
He grabbed at a shovel and set to work with the less savory of cleaning first. Maybe the hard work would give him some kind of inspiration on what to do. Alfred rolled his eyes. Or maybe he was being creative in trying to make chores seem more useful.
Alfred had taken up the entire morning and better part of the afternoon cleaning the barn, both inside and out. He currently laid sprawled out in the grass, his upper body propped against the stallion's side who was laying down behind him. The squeak of the front door caught his attention and he craned his neck up to see who was leaving.
The Generals filed out of his house with Arthur as the last to leave, but he stopped on the porch while the rest began hoisting themselves onto their horses.
He couldn't hear what they were saying from this distance, but he could see the frustration on their faces, especially Arthur's. The Generals then turned and rode off. Arthur stared out after them, apparently lost in his thoughts.
Arthur snapped back to reality and looked over towards Alfred. He made his way over and grimaced when he noticed the piece of straw hanging out of Alfred's mouth. "That is disgusting." Alfred merely smiled, and the stallion snorted.
Apparently the meeting had left Arthur tired because he didn't nag him any further about it. "Are you hungry?"
Alfred cringed at the thought of putting more of Arthur's food into his stomach in one day. "I've got some stuff to do yet. Just taking a break. You go ahead, I'll grab something later." He held his breath while waiting for a reply.
Arthur shrugged his shoulders, "I'll be in my office." Then turned and walked back to the house, the front door squeaking shut behind him.
"Bleh, I'm so hungry I'd eat some of your hay." Alfred's head thumped back against the stallion's side. His horse let out a heavy breath. "Okay maybe not." He added with a smile.
Alfred stood up and brushed off his pants. He wanted to get moving before it was too dark. So he went and put the rest of the animals back in their proper stalls, and made sure they had more than enough feed and water for the night.
Alright, he could do this.
He walked back to the house, and down the hall. Arthur's door was shut, but he had said he would be inside. Alfred raised one hand and knocked twice.
A muffled 'yes' reached him and he opened the door a little.
"I'm going to make some tea, and thought I'd ask if you want some." He said the words quickly, and anyone but Arthur probably wouldn't have understood what he'd said.
Arthur's head twitched up in surprise, eyebrows raised high on his forehead. "You are going to make tea?"
Alfred rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders already knowing what to say. "We're out of coffee."
Understanding settled over Arthur's features and he relaxed once more. He nodded, "Then yes, by all means."
Alfred spun and closed the door while going towards the kitchen to make the tea. He closed his eyes tightly. This was it, no turning back.
He set the kettle above the open fire and began making tea, just as Arthur had taught him so long ago. His eyes reflected the flames, orange clashing against the blue. After it had steeped long enough he reached into the pocket of his vest and took out the small pouch that Madison had given him at the meeting.
One last deep breath and he poured the crushed herbs into the bottom of the teacup Arthur favored. He poured the tea over it and they dissolved from view. Alfred then poured himself a cup of the dark liquid.
He placed both cups and kettle on a tray before returning to Arthur's study. Memories of doing this when he was much smaller came to mind, and he shoved them away.
Alfred balanced the tray and opened the door without too much of a struggle, and then set the tray down on the desk Arthur was still seated behind. Unlike Alfred's, his desk was immaculate and with only a pile of papers in one corner.
He sat down and took his own cup, fingers curling around the warmed porcelain. "Two sugars right?" Alfred couldn't keep the nervousness from his voice as he looked up to Arthur, who seemed mildly amused by the question, or maybe just the whole scene.
"Two sugars." Arthur said with a nod as he took his own cup and began to sip at the tea. He looked surprised, "You actually remember how to make proper tea." Astonishing.
Alfred made a face, "Yeah." He managed to take a sip of the tea without gagging, but it burned all the way down his throat.
"So whatchya working on?" Alfred asked curiously, his heart beating against his ribcage and feeling like it might burst at any moment.
Arthur looked at him, "It wouldn't interest you." He then took another drink of the tea, but soon after set it down in front of him.
"Alfred," He began slowly, looking at the colony with concern. "I know it's been tense lately, and we haven't properly..." Arthur trailed off, looking a little uncertain of how to proceed, "I wish for us to speak plainly." This time when Arthur paused he looked tired.
"I just wanted to let you know-" And then his entire upper body collapsed over the desktop, the tea cup precariously tilting before setting itself right again.
Alfred stared at his unconscious mentor, and was both relieved and sad about the timing of the drug. What had Arthur been about to say? Or was it better he hadn't heard?
No matter. Alfred made a beeline for his room, and grabbed the rucksack he'd already packed. He picked up the plush rabbit on the way out and made one last stop in Arthur's study.
He set the rabbit down on the desk so it would be facing Arthur when he woke up. Which wouldn't be for a long while. He'd used way more than necessary to knock the Brit out.
"I'm not sorry, not about what I have to do." Alfred spoke bravely, knowing that he wouldn't be heard. "But...I am sorry, that we can't have what we did before." He patted the bunny on the head, and gave one last look to Arthur before he ran out of the office, and the house.
No turning back.
Historical note time! The Loyalists in this story had more of an impact than in real life history. Historians have estimated the loyalists to only be about 18-20% of the colonists, but then again some Historians argue that the patriots were a small percentage of the colonists and had better advertising so to speak that got more people on their side.
Regardless the war was not cut and dry. Many people lost their homes, and I imagine things would remain tense between loyalists and patriots. Especially so if the loyalists won.
As for what herb(s) were used to knock poor Arthur out I won't go in depth over. The amount and herbs themselves are potentially lethal to us regular people, but to personified nations? Probably just knock them out for a while.