The night the order had arrived he had been violently ill.
An innocuous enough ivory envelope, until he had turned it over and laid eyes upon the seal.
Treason no longer carried the penalty of death; it was only a recent development. Treason was not something Arthur could commit. It wasn't as though he hadn't killed before. Hundreds of thousands of people - in battle, out of jealousy, hatred, bitterness or love. Arthur's hands were tainted.
This, however, was too cruel.
Ivan Braginski is a threat to national security. Ivan Braginski is to be terminated.
It wasn't true. Arthur wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs until his chest ached and his throat was raw. The only thing that tore up his throat though was vomit, hot and acidic. Shakily he had clutched the toilet bowl, saliva dripping as he sobbed silently. When Ivan had enquired he'd blamed the afternoon's attempts at cooking.
The day he'd complied had passed quietly. Peacefully. Arthur had risen early, prepared a picnic and lured Ivan out into the bright spring sunshine. Together they had walked into the hills, miles and miles until Arthur could walk no further and they'd settled in a wild meadow.
Slowly they'd eaten the picnic and Arthur had feed Ivan strawberries and pointed out various flowers and birds native to Britain. As the sun warmed them Ivan had become drowsy and settled with his head in Arthur's lap. Fingertips shakily pulled through silky platinum strands. Who could ever think this man was a threat? So trustingly he slept unaware of the danger.
Eventually when he had been sure Ivan was asleep he'd pulled the length of wire from its hiding place. Carefully he'd wound it about his throat so no tension could be felt. Death would be swift, as painless as he could manage it. If hands were not trembling so much... if he could just steady himself…
The world blurred, tears swelling into his eyes, he could no longer see. Ivan slept deeply, he trusted him too much. A thick swallow.
"Ivan I'm… I'm so sorry…"
Yank.
Somehow he found the resolve, the steel in the pit of his soul to do it right first time, so the Russian didn't suffer. So the Russian would not open his eyes and see this one last, final betrayal. The large body twitched violently, trying to escape death and then fell still.
And then England broke.