Words: 2060

So, this is my shortest chapter yet. Arthur rethinks his opinions and Alfred has a breakdown. Oh, and next chapter is Arthur's heat. Part 1. I'll try to post the it in a couple of days.

The next week passed slowly. For Arthur, the days dragged on unbearably. He and Alfred were barely on speaking terms, only communicating indirectly during meeting and the like. The Queen tended to his garden and drank his tea alone once again. Where he once found comfort in solitude, he now only felt loneliness. He had gotten exactly what he wanted, and he hated it, and he hated Alfred, and most of all he hated himself for not being able to hold on to anything good that happened to him and for not being able to let go of the past. When something seemed too good to be true, Arthur made sure it was.

And he hated himself for making Alfred upset. Alfred, the first person to show him any sort of care at all in the past several years. Arthur had lashed out at him, blamed him for everything bad that had happened to him in a misplaced sense of betrayal. Alfred had been the straw to break the camel's back, and Arthur had pushed away the one person that made him truly happy. He had hurt them both terribly.

Alfred stayed in his room during his free time now. Arthur hadn't even seen him chat with any of the maids or nobles; he was secluding himself. Friendship doesn't exist in this castle. Affection dies in these walls. Even if Alfred wasn't isolating himself in his room, it was doubtful many would approach him. The King now walked with a perfectly regal air; he nearly seemed to float, gliding across the ground without touching it. It was as if the world couldn't touch him, as if he was part of something far beyond mere earthly concerns. It made him cold and aloof, unbreakable and untouchable. It hurt Arthur to look at.

In some ways, Arthur was scared. The nightmares seemed to have stopped after his fallout with Alfred. It seemed there was no need for fear to haunt his dreams when they permeated his waking hours once again. Alfred was not cruel of course, but he was cold now, and Arthur knew first hand want went on inside the minds of those that were too distant. But where omegas imploded and allowed themselves to be destroyed from the inside, alphas had more of a tendency to explode and take all they could with them. Alfred didn't seem the type, but then he also hadn't seemed the type to just shut down like that.

Arthur felt like he was walking on eggshells again. The King was unhappy, and an unhappy King only ever spelled trouble. Whatever light had come into the castle since Alfred's arrival was gone, and Arthur felt he had only himself to blame.

It took just over a week for everything to come to a head.

The Queen, along with the Jack and a few top-level advisors, were waiting for the King to appear. While it wasn't exactly uncommon for the King to show up a few minutes late for a meeting, he was now twenty minutes late. And it was a lunch meeting, which he was never late for.

Arthur had offered to go and fetch him. He wasn't sure why he offered, seeing as he'd been avoiding the King for much of the past week, but some part of him was still a bit worried. Even if Alfred hated Arthur, Arthur couldn't bring himself to try to hate Alfred anymore. And Alfred's absence was only made all the more concerning by with the fact that he had been very much not himself lately.

He checked the King's chambers first, since that was the place Alfred had been spending most of his time lately. Arthur knocked on the door politely, listening for sounds on the other side. Then, all thoughts of politeness flew from his mind as he heard muffled sobbing through the door.

Arthur tried the knob and found it unlocked. He walked inside without a second thought and was shocked by what he saw. Sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over and shaking with sobs, was the King.

Arthur walked towards him slowly, wary of startling him. Alfred obviously hadn't heard the knocking.

"Alfred?" he asked softly, as gently as he could. Alfred jumped in shock, staring at Arthur with wide, red-rimmed eyes.

"Wh-You- What?" he demanded angrily, turning his face in shame. Undeterred, Arthur sat carefully next to Alfred and patted his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner. Alfred was still crying, struggling to get his breathing under control.

"What's wrong?" he asked, because he had no idea what else to say.

"Go away! I hate you!" Alfred cried, turning away. Arthur repressed a flinch, figuring he deserved that one.

"I'm not going to leave you here to cry," he said calmly.

"What do you care?" Alfred demanded. Arthur winced, suspicions confirmed. This was about their argument.

"I… I do care," he said slowly, painfully. He had never enjoyed admitting when he was wrong.

"Then go away! I- I don't-" Alfred hiccupped, voice hitching.

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

Alfred said nothing for a few moments, still gasping, before blurting out "I hate this!"

"What?" Arthur asked, startled.

"I hate this," Alfred repeated. "I hate being King. I don't want to do this anymore."

"Alfred…" Arthur sighed, all too familiar with how Alfred was feeling at the moment. "You can't just not be King. You are the King."

"I don't care!" he wailed. "I don't want to. I didn't ask for this."

"None of us did," Arthur replied, a bit bitterly. "You're the King, Alfred, whether you like it or not."

"I can't," Alfred said miserably. "I can't do this."

"What can't you do, Alfred?"

"I can't do this!" he said, the pitch of his voice rising in desperation, pleading for understanding. "I can't stay in this castle, with these walls, and, and everyone's so c-cold!" he stuttered.

"Wh-Come on, Alfred, surely it's not so bad?" Arthur could understand not wanting to be Royal, but Alfred was King. He could do whatever he wanted. Surely mere loneliness didn't warrant such distress.

"How do you do it?" Alfred asked despondently. "Everyone's so cold. And mean. They only care about themselves. I wanna go home." Arthur's heart wrenched at the all too familiar plea. He wished he could do something to change both of their situations.

"This is your home, Alfred," he said tenderly, trying to get Alfred to see reason. The boy was having an all-out panic attack.

"No! No, it's… I can't, I can't, please," he begged desperately. Arthur could feel his heart breaking; such a happy person should never sound so wretched.

"Shh, shh," he said, rubbing Alfred's back in an awkward half-hug. It was all he could think to do. "It'll get better poppet, just breathe. Come on, you're alright."

"N-No. I can't do this again. I can't- I can't be alone again."

"What? What do you mean?" Arthur asked soothingly. He didn't know much about Alfred's past, so he didn't have any idea what again was supposed to mean, but Arthur got the impression this was about more than just their fight. It felt like this had been building for awhile.

"I can't do this for the rest of my life. I hate this," Alfred repeated, trying to calm himself with a shuddering breath.

"It really isn't so bad, love," Arthur lied.

"Yes it is! You said so yourself! Af-fection dies in these walls. Everyone's so cold."

Perhaps it was the way Alfred said it, so abandoned and resigned, that caused Arthur to have a vision of a sad, lonely child. Everybody wants to be loved, he thought. He remembered when he first arrived at the castle, still clinging on to the last strand of hope that he'd find happiness within the cursed walls. But Arthur was used to disappointment; he'd had little hope to lose. Alfred's hope was killing him.

Everyone's so cold. Arthur knew that Alfred's position could be a bit… unforgiving. He was a wonderful King, in truth, but there would always be problems. Some he inherited, some he would cause, but he would be blamed for them all. Alfred had complained of the stress before, of course, of the demands people placed on him, of the feeling that all he could do was give without getting anything in return. Arthur hadn't thought much of it; the emotions of Royals were never considered in the running of a Kingdom, and the feelings weren't unexpected from someone in his position. But Alfred was still so young, even if it had seemed he had adapted well. He hadn't developed the coping mechanisms Arthur had yet.

Affection dies in these walls. Hearing those words echoed back to him hurt worse than Arthur had expected. "Alfred… I was wrong to say that," Arthur admitted, the pain of hurt pride mingling with his guilt. He wished he could think of something better to say. For all his love of literature, Arthur had never been very good with words when it mattered.

"But it's true!" Alfred exclaimed immediately, matter-of-factly.

Arthur thought for a moment. From the moment he saw him, he'd expected Alfred's joy and passion to chip away eventually. He had been waiting for it, even. But he'd never wished for it.

"It doesn't have to be," he said eventually. For a few moments they were silent, Alfred's distress having finally subsided enough for him to breath normally. Arthur still didn't move from his side.

"Why don't you want friends?" Alfred asked quietly. Arthur started, not expecting such a question.

"It's not that I… It's just never really worked out for me, I suppose," he said. Arthur knew he wasn't the easiest person to get along with, and his general mistrust of others made it easy for him to find comfort in solitude. He'd rarely ever longed for a friend.

But Alfred obviously had.

"You're a good person, Alfred. You shouldn't have to be alone." At Alfred's silence, Arthur continued. "I really am sorry for everything I said… I didn't mean any of it, really," he said sincerely, hoping Alfred would believe him.

"What about the part about friends?" Alfred asked after a moment of silence, still staring at the ground.

"Which part?"

"Where you said we can't be friends."

Arthur swallowed nervously. He still wasn't sure how well it would work; they had already sort of been friends when he'd gone and messed it all up. But… he liked Alfred. Alfred was a good person. It was getting harder for even Arthur to deny that with each day that passed.

And deep down, some part of him really didn't want to go back to being alone.

"I'm… not sure how good of a friend I can be," he admitted. "But, if you still want to try… it's sort of boring now, drinking tea by myself."

Alfred said nothing, but glanced at Arthur shyly, a shaky and uncertain smile gracing his face. "Yeah. I want to try."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, Alfred finally relaxing and starting to lean on Arthur. It was an odd sort of warmth, one Arthur wasn't used to but thought he might enjoy.

"I should go tell the others to cancel the meeting. They've been waiting for us."

"The meeting? What time is it?" Alfred asked, glancing over at one of the ubiquitous clocks in the room. "Aw crap, I'm late for the meeting."

"It wasn't important. They'll get over it," Arthur said dismissively, moving to stand up.

"Where are you going?" Alfred asked, a hint of panic in his voice. Arthur looked at him, surprised by the reaction.

"To tell them we're not coming?"

"…Right," Alfred said, relaxing slightly. "Yeah."

Arthur thought for a moment. "…I can stay for a bit, if you want," he said. Not because he cared or anything, he just didn't want to deal with Yao at the moment.

Alfred nodded, relief obvious on his face. The King lay back on the bed, eyes closing in exhaustion. "Just 'till I fall asleep," he mumbled, already halfway there.

"Alright," Arthur said, sitting next to Alfred once more. He smiled softly as Alfred quickly drifted off. "I am sorry," he whispered once he was sure the King was asleep. He brushed Alfred's hair back from his face and kissed him gently on the forehead. All signs of stress and hurt melted from Alfred's expression, the only remnant of his breakdown the blotchy redness of his face. Arthur stayed a few more minutes, in case Alfred woke up, before making his way out of the bedroom and closing the door softly behind him.

A/N I kept trying to rewrite this, but it's till kind of… I don't know. I think my biggest problem with it is how out of left field Alfred's meltdown seems. I had trouble finding places to hint at it earlier in the story, especially since so much of it was told from Arthur's POV and the during the bits with Alfred he was so overwhelmed by all the new things he was seeing that he wasn't really concentrating on that.

And, that's sort of the problem with Alfred. He's really good at convincing everyone, including himself, that he's completely fine. And his issue, with loneliness and neglect (to be addressed in future chapters) is the sort of problem that kind of sneaks into the spaces between action and activity without really being acknowledged or addressed. I feel like I'm explaining this awfully. But it did remind of this awesome fanfic I read, pretty much completely unrelated but it sort of shows the accumulation of stress and not having someone to fall back on for America. Here, I'll link it:

hetalia-kink. livejournal. com (slash) 22015.

html?thread=94114815#t94114815

In case FF breaks the link, it's called Guilty Parties Must Take Responsibility, and is actually a USUK hurt/comfort fic. I would highly recommend it.