A quiet knock brought Arthur back to reality as he watched his treasure slumber before him. Sighing softly, he called. "You may come in."
The door opened slowly, almost cautiously as a young man emerged from behind the door. Quietly shutting it behind himself, he sat next to the British man.
"So, how is she?" Alfred asked concerned.
"Oh, she's fine. The potion worked well enough, although eventually we will have to do something about her headache. It's obviously become a source of great pain and sickness to her. She's already thrown up twice since she first awoke…" Arthur's attention drifted back to the princess before him.
"She's beautiful, huh Artie?" the American grinned happily.
"Yes, she is. I told you she would be well worth the wait."
"I guess everyone has to be right every once in a while.." Alfred drifted.
SMACK!
Rubbing the back of his wounded head, Alfred pouted at the elder man's action.
"Ouch Artie, that actually hurt!"
"Yeah I know. Say it again, and I'll be sure to make it worse the next time around."
"….you have your blades back again…"
"I have my blades back again. Daddy dearest doesn't want to keep me from my toys for too long. Wouldn't want me to be bored and in his presence I suppose." Arthur cheekily commented.
"…yeah. So, when do you think she'll wake up again?"
"Perhaps in a few hours. I highly doubt she'll be out for an entire day. I'll be here until she does, can't leave her all alone and scared now can I?"
"Hmmm…I guess not. Though if she ever were to get scared her Hero would here to save her!" Alfred proudly cheered.
Laughing softly, the British man slung his arm around the American's shoulders and brought him closer for a kiss.
"Of course. The Princess will always need her Hero to save her." Arthur breathed.
There it was. Running through the thick branches and high grasses, she desperately looked for a way out. Everywhere she ran, through mountain snow and the oceans deep, the figure was always only a few feet away. Silently mocking her for her poor attempt at liberation.
She kept running, knowing that this would be her last attempt at freedom, and pleading for someone to save her from this monster. Her monster.
Her foot caught a stern branch, and she lost her balance. Falling among the darkening grasses, she held her breath in fear. This was it. She told herself, crying softly at her own upcoming demise.
The figure came forth, and carefully picked up its victim in one swift movement. Having closed her eyes in terror, she did not notice that the figure was wearing a mask. Half of the mask was a cheerful character, while the other half appeared in a state of madness. The figure gently cradled the woman in one strong arm, and caressed her hair with his other hand.
The women shook with fear, but somewhere in the back of her mind she felt content. As if this figure was actually something good, and not what it really was. A monster.
As she silently pondered this new revelation, the figure stuck its long nails into her skull. Blinding her from everything but the torturous pain. And then nothing.
A/N: Just wanted to say that cheekily is a word, despite what 's spell check says.