First off, congratulations to Charley the Plant! I drew 23 as the random review number. Their Hetalia oneshot is titled 'To the Victor Belong the Spoils' and is on my profile should anyone decide they want to read it. If you guys ever have any ideas for stories or feel like making a request, just PM me. :3
Second off – Sorry for the amount of time this took. Finals are crazy time yes?
Alfred had left his stallion all saddled up in the barn. He wasn't taking any chances, even if he was fairly confident about Arthur not waking up anytime soon. He passed by the other stalls and paused to rub the top of the mare's nose. Arthur would be mad, probably livid, but he knew he wouldn't do anything to the animals, or the home.
Well, hopefully not the house. Even if it did hold some bad memories, they had built it together and it was the only home he knew. Alfred blew out a breath, and then went over to unlatch the stall where the stallion was waiting.
"Hope you're ready Misun," he paused for a second, "because I'm not entirely sure I am." Misun tilted his head and snorted in Alfred's ear as he bumped against the side of the blond's head.
With that final nudge of encouragement he led him out into the yard, letting go of the reins long enough to push the barn doors closed. It was beginning to get dark, and while the night would give him the cover of darkness it'd make him look a lot more suspicious. This was going to require some serious subtlety.
..And being subtle was not one of his strong points.
Ah well no time to linger on the bad. He swung up into the saddle with the natural ease and grace that always seemed to frustrate Arthur and leaned forward. A steady pace would be best for now. Misun seemed to agree and casually began to lope down the worn path from the house to the road.
By the time they reached the city it was dark enough for candles to be lit and most people were locking up their stores and going home for the night. Alfred glanced up to the tavern that he'd just been in the other night and smiled to the stable boy who looked less than happy about seeing the stallion again.
"Be nice." Alfred reminded Misun before hopping off and handing the reins over to the boy who wearily took them.
Alfred watched as his horse was led away where he'd at least be kept comfortable until they had to ride out later.
He walked into the pub that was just beginning to fill up for the evening and then to the back kitchens, keeping an eye out for the owner. Alfred nearly ran into the well-built man as he lugged sacks of produce up from the cellar.
"Woah there lad, don't want to be gettin' underfoot 'round here." Alfred stepped back hastily and got out of the taller (and larger) man's way as he set the vegetables down on a counter and turned back to him. Recognition lit up in his eye and gestured Alfred closer.
Alfred walked over, the sounds of the kitchen and staff so loud he almost didn't hear the man as he whispered.
"They said you'd be back, and that I was to give ye a horse and have everything all ready – But so soon?" Alfred smiled at the man, whose name he'd been told was Gabriel. It took a brave soul to harbor delegates and plot the sort of treason they had in mind.
He fidgeted on his feet and then leaned in closer to Gabriel, "Yeah, something came up and it had to be now or never. I'm sorry." The bearded man shook his hands at Alfred, "Oh no no sorrys here. It's just a surprise is all."
That wasn't good to hear. Alfred frowned. Had he gotten everything done in time? Gabriel seemed to pick up on Alfred's unease and his hands waved even more frantically, "Surprised, but I did my duty. Everything you need is ready."
Gabriel walked over to the back door and opened it. His head poked out and looked back and forth for a moment and then he was back in the kitchen and taking a cloak off a nearby hook. He offered it to Alfred, "You've done more than enough already..." Alfred began, blue eyes locked on the dark fabric for some reason.
"Pft!" Gabriel forcefully pressed the cloak into Alfred's grasp. "It was my son's." His eyes took on a faraway look, and Alfred hugged the folded fabric closer for a moment. "He fought in the war."
Alfred's comment brought the man out of his reverie and he nodded proudly. "M'boy was part of night raids. It would do you better than a sentimental old man."
There wasn't anything he could say that would lessen the pain of Gabriel's loss. So he shook out the cloak and then fastened it around his neck. "Thanks, for everything. You're helping your country." Alfred almost smiled at the hidden truth in his words.
"I'd like to think so." And with that Gabriel ushered him out the door, and helpfully added, "Pull up the hood, else ye'll glow like a lantern!" Before shutting the door and leaving Alfred alone in the back alley.
With a frown he reached up and tugged at a piece of fair hair so he could look at it better. Being blond was not so great for sneaking around. Alfred did as instructed and gathered the hood up so it would hide his hair, and most of his face.
Operation break out Washington was officially underway.
Alfred hurried down the alley and slipped between buildings and tried to keep out of any soldiers line of sight. He nearly ran into two redcoats as he cut across the road to get closer to the prison. At the last possible moment he ducked into a doorway and pressed himself flat against it as they passed.
"-Heard that more men have gone missing up North?" He strained to hear what they were talking about.
"The damn Yanks aren't worth all this trouble." The other soldier responded, voice somewhat deeper. "Should kill the lot of them if they weren't good at farming, simpletons." The malice oozed from his words, and Alfred felt his fingers curl into fists at his sides. It'd be so easy to just step out and...
Alfred let out a quiet sigh and watched as the men walked on past him and further down the street, taking a turn and disappearing from his sight. That was too close, and he'd been about ready to tackle the one and...Alfred didn't really want to think about just how mad he'd been. Was this how his people felt? How the heck had they kept from retaliating?
He shook his head to try and clear it and then eased out of the doorway. After a cursory glance in each direction he crossed through the last alley and stopped at the opening, standing across from the guarded prison house.
There were two soldiers outside the front entrance, as he'd been told. Alfred stepped out and walked down the street a ways before cutting across and then backtracking so he'd come up behind the prison. Going in the front would have been stupid, and was what he'd been planning until he'd met with the delegates.
As he approached the back of the building a redcoat came to attention and gave a jaunty wave to Alfred.
He made a mental note to never get on the bad side of any of his delegates. They had more connections than he had ever realized. A brief nod and then the young man was unlocking the large lock and slipping into the prison, with a wave for Alfred to follow.
Once inside a uniform was tossed to him. Alfred bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from making any remarks about having to wear the thing.
Apparently his facial expression was more telling because the undercover soldier laughed softly and whispered, "I know, but it's not too bad. Burn it later."
He cracked a smile and began to change, as quickly as he could. His clothes were then stuffed into the rucksack he still had slung across his chest. This was it. His palms felt sweaty, and he could feel his heart racing. He looked to the soldier and nodded his head, "I'm ready."
The red headed soldier nodded in return and they began to walk down the dark hallway and then a flight of stairs.
Eventually they came to an iron gate and the soldier fished out the ring of keys once more. After the door was unlocked he swung it open. They passed many cells, all unoccupied, and at the end of the hall there was a door with two soldiers standing guard.
The closer they got, the more rigid the guards seemed to stand. They stared straight ahead, then slowly looked at one another then to Alfred and the other 'redcoat.'
Just when Alfred was about to say something, his undercover Patriot spoke, "Red moon out tonight, bloody gives you the creeps, yeah?" He had a perfect British accent. Alfred's mouth almost opened in surprise, but he kept his lips pressed tightly together.
After that comment the soldiers seemed to relax. Password of some kind? How much time had it taken to get this all set up...? Apparently the delegates had been preparing long before Alfred had run into them.
The two soldiers tipped their heads as they walked past, remaining silent and still somewhat tense. Alfred looked over to the soldier who placed a finger against his lips in the classic 'sh' gesture. They waited, and listened. Eventually the click of the gate being locked reached their ears followed by footsteps up the stairs.
A nod and then the soldier pulled out a different set of keys and began unlocking the locks on the door. Three different ones in total. Arthur had been serious about keeping Washington locked up.
He turned the key in the final lock and grabbed the metal ring to pull the door open. Alfred stood off to the side, and peered into the dark cavern that was the cell they'd kept Washington in.
The smell of sweat, and other unpleasant things reached him and he vainly searched for motion of any kind. He took a hesitant step in, "Geo-"
He didn't quite finish what he was saying as a pair of manacle clad hands wrapped around his neck and the chain dug harshly into his skin. Instantly his hands flew up and fingers wrapped around the chain links.
"Washington!" A voice hissed, the soldier who'd helped them. "It's him. Let go! We're getting you out of here." The British accent was gone, replaced by the mild American vowels Alfred was accustomed to hearing.
Then blessed air was filling his lungs and he fought to keep from hacking or making any noise. Hands on his shoulders spun him around and Alfred was forced to look up somewhat at his General. He smiled despite the lingering pain around his throat.
"Fancy seeing you here." Alfred used the familiar greeting that he and George Washington had exchanged on the battlefield whenever they crossed paths.
Alfred was still squinting, but enough light leaked in for him to finally see what had become of George. His heart clenched painfully. The strong figure from before had diminished. The image he'd had in his mind was that of the tall General who commanded attention wherever he went. Not many were willing to face Washington. He was far more muscled and had a great height advantage on most everyone.
Instead he was facing a tall and almost gangly looking man. What was usually a clean shaven face had accumulated a decent stubble, and his light brown hair hung limply around his eyes.
"Oh, George." Alfred couldn't believe they'd done this to him. To his General. He was becoming more familiar with anger than he had in many years. George smiled at Alfred, and finally returned the greeting.
"Never thought I'd run into you." The response gave Alfred hope. They hadn't broken him. George still retained his memories, his thoughts, and most importantly the personality that drew people to him.
The soldier clicked his tongue to the top of his mouth, "You'll have plenty of time to catch up later." He tossed a key to Alfred, "Unlock him and let's move."
George raised his hands up and angled them so Alfred could slide the key in and unlock the iron shackles. There were red chafe marks around his wrists, and Alfred couldn't help but stare at the raw skin. "It's not as bad as it looks." George reassured him, his voice much softer than Alfred recalled.
Alfred didn't say anything, afraid that his voice might crack – Or worse, if he did. Instead he turned and they walked out of the cell. The other man closed the door and locked it again. Alfred smiled tensely and the trio walked briskly back the way they'd come.
George leaned heavily on Alfred as they walked along, and Alfred kept an arm securely around his waist. There was an obvious limp to his gait, and dried blood was crusted on his clothes. Hopefully he wasn't hurt too badly.
They stopped at the iron gate and the other man reached through and deftly unlocked the door with the keys once more. When Alfred helped George through he closed and locked it. It took longer than Alfred would have liked to get up the stairs, and he was worried about whether or not George would be able to ride a horse.
When they reached the back door the undercover agent tipped an invisible hat to them, "I'll take care of some last minute things. You two get a move on."
Before Alfred could thank him the kid had spun around and was gone. He shook his head to himself and helped George into the cloak he'd been given from Gabriel. It was a little short, but it at least concealed his identity.
His stallion was waiting out back, and another horse was all saddled up next to him. Thank goodness for Gabriel and his loyal staff. "George, can you ride just a little ways?"
The General scoffed, "Of course I can. I may be a tad black and blue but I'm not out of this war. Not yet." Alfred smiled and the two hobbled over to the dark brown horse. He was surprised when George managed to get atop the horse with little help necessary.
Alfred hoisted himself up atop Misun and began to lead the way through the maze of back alleys that would eventually let out at the port.
The two rode side by side, taking up most of the narrow paths, but Alfred wouldn't feel right if Gorge was forced to be behind or take point. He felt better with his General by his side, where he hadn't been for months now.
After a long while of riding in silence, Alfred reached over with one hand and placed it atop Washington's. He told himself it was to reassure the General. Really though, he needed desperately to know that George was there. Truly, physically, there. The simple contact was like a soothing balm, and he felt some of the tension coiled between his shoulder blades release.
The General knew enough about his nation to keep quiet, and kept his focus ahead while Alfred got his composure back.
Narrow alleys eventually widened out and the air got colder as they approached the port.
"Bet ya don't know where we're headed." Alfred said with a smile.
Though he couldn't see George's face he could sense his surprise. The way he jerked and turned towards Alfred. "Leaving? We're leaving?"
Alfred made a face, "Yeah. I didn't want to either but the del-They assured me it's for the best, and I kind of agree with them now." He could feel the waves of frustration rolling off of Washington and quickly added, "It won't be for long. Just to get some help."
That didn't seem to make George any happier about the whole thing, but then Alfred had taken the reins from his hands and was leading their horses towards one of the many boats docked in the port.
They got closer to the boat and a small chuckle from George had Alfred smiling to himself as well. "Hancock. Still smuggling I see." George mumbled this under his breath as a nondescript sailor came out and greeted them. The two got off their horses, Washington with a little more difficulty and the two mounts were led aboard the ship.
"It serves its uses." Alfred replied as they looked at one of the many ships John Hancock had managed to keep under the redcoats noses.
They were escorted onto the ship by another sailor. It was strange to see the almost silent chaos that took place as the men ran about to get the ship moving and out of the port. Despite all the movement the only sounds were that of the waves lapping against the sides of the boat.
Alfred watched on curiously, looking away only when George groaned quietly. The General smiled, "Tad sore." Oh. How could he have forgotten?
"There's a doctor on board." Alfred took George's elbow and gently led him towards the captains quarters were he'd been told a doctor would be waiting to treat Washington, should there be a need. And he was fairly certain there was one.
The ship was clearly on its way as walking became a little more difficult and the floor began to tilt at strange angles now and then. Alfred hated sailing.
Alfred knocked once on the door when he reached the cabin and then it was opened from inside. The obvious captain was hunched over a desk in the corner, with what looked like a pirate hat on his head. Alfred stopped and stared.
He almost didn't notice when the doctor came over and took George from him. He laid the injured man out on an extra cot that had been set up.
The captain was busy mumbling to himself and rather abruptly got up and walked right past Alfred out to the deck. So much for making acquaintances.
Alfred turned to kneel down beside the cot. The doctor had already cut open the bloodied and dirty undershirt that might have been white once. His eyes widened when he saw the lacerations and bruises that littered George's torso.
The doctor didn't look happy about it either, "Broken rib, or two from how it feels." He shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one shoulder while his hands pressed in at different spots and felt for any other broken bones.
"You shouldn't have ridden." Alfred said this between clenched teeth, trying to keep from crying in front of his General. "You could have punctured a lung or somethin'."
The bright blue eyes of Washington were closed tight but he managed a smile, "Well I sure wasn't riding side saddle to you. Never hear the end of it if I had."
That got a small hiccup of a laugh from Alfred. "That'd have been a sight alright." Alfred looked over to the doctor, who glanced over to him briefly. "M'names William. If you're going to stay here make yourself useful and get my tools from over there."
Alfred's eyes got wide, "Tools?"
William laughed, clearly finding his expression amusing. "I'm not doing anything drastic, just going to stitch some of these cuts closed that opened. Prob'ly on the ride over." His words slurred together as he bit down on some gauze between his teeth while applying a salve across one nasty looking gash in particular.
"Just call me Nurse Alfred." Washington snorted a the comment, "Oh lord save me now."
Arthur did not enjoy waking up in abrupt manners, even less so when they involved freezing cold water and the glaring sun directly in his eyes.
He shot up to a sitting position, and quickly regretted having done so. The world spun around him and he placed a hand to his forehead. He hadn't drank the night before – Had he? And why was he wet, and outside of all places?
"Sir!" Arthur flinched, the one word ringing inside his head and making his eardrums hurt. He didn't reply, but massaged his temples while vainly trying to remember what had happened. Another panicked sounding "Sir!" echoed and green eyes snapped open once more.
"For the love of all that is holy would you quiet down?" He nearly hissed the words, and the Officer's face went ashen at the command. He did as told though.
When he felt well enough to stand up he did so, much slower than before though. It felt as though he'd gone drinking, heavily. He eyed the Officer who looked far too young for the position. "Now what is it?"
The boy did not look pleased to be the one doing this. "S-Sir. It's, it – Washington is missing."
Clarity, as bright and obvious as the sun hit Arthur. And the world was suddenly spinning again, but this time it was rage that fueled the vertigo.
"Alfred."
History time eh! Oh John Hancock. Yes that oh so dashing delegate of ours was in fact a smuggler. The taxes before the American Revolution left many a people angry, and as a result smuggling became the norm to get around these taxes...And the Colonists got real good at it. Hancock became extremely successful as a result of his smuggling and used the riches from his 'business' to help fund the Revolution. It wasn't uncommon for many delegates to have less than legal sources for their income that helped the Revolution. They just wanted their tea, sans taxes.
Cheap Colonists. x]
Sorry Arthur didn't get a huge role in this story, and will be taking a back seat as other nations step into the picture. Oh I'm sure some of you know where this is going.