He had once been the greatest world power. Had expanded his empire from the tiny confounds of his island to the very ends of the world. He had been invincible, at least he had felt that way, but slowly the once powerful shackles he held locked fast on the empire slipped from his fingers like frayed thread. One by one, each of them taking a little bit of that strength with them until he was left, tired, and older with a handful of strings.
He had held so tightly, had tried so hard to hold unto the cracks in the foundations, to hold them up...but he tore away.
He sucked the life from him, he gave him everything...but demanded too much in return, until a silent debt had formed between them and all hope of paying it back was lost. Alfred had known it. Alfred had abandoned him to run from it.
And now Arthur, once the greatest country in the world...watches as Alfred holds the shackles of the world, and silently...resentfully stares at the fraying threads Alfred can't see.
That he couldn't see.