Sorry for that cliffhanger! Finally, their past is revealed...the nasty part, at least.

Just as a warning: Alfred's story is a bit skewed, as most memories often are.

Reviews are appreciated!

"Arthur...the world we used to live in was...kind of...different. I told you this before, but we lived a century ago. Back then, you were an artisan's son from Alar, and I was a Jonek native."

Arthur nodded, deciding he'd save all his questions for the end. He held Alfred's hand gently, squeezing it occasionally for reassurance. They were both sitting opposite each other, inches away, crossing their legs. Arthur's back was against the wall.

"Anyway," Alfred went on, "We...when I first got to know you, it wasn't pretty," he said, wincing as he laughed at the memory. "We were roommates, actually. Even though we were nothing like each other and didn't really have the same interests, we wound up doing an apprenticeship together in Jonek, and they didn't...have a lot of space. I mean, normally, apprentices would get their own rooms, but our teacher wasn't doing so well financially, and...uh, yeah...one thing led to another." He paused. "We lived in the countryside of Jonek. Sometimes it got stuffy in the main city, but the countryside..."

Alfred let out a sigh.

"You always used to open the window to let in the fresh air. Said it calmed your nerves." Alfred laughed slightly as his eyes grew unfocused. "And I remember on the first night I...well, it was really dark and I forgot to bring up a lantern, and I...I accidentally got into your bed instead of mine. And you gave me a good thrashing and tossed me out. I think I have a scar from that, actually," Alfred smiled sheepishly. "It was a mistake, honestly!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, a small, proud smirk on his face.

"But I guess we began to get along eventually - I mean, we didn't really have a choice since we had to work together sometimes - and you told me all about yourself, which was not a lot because you don't really talk about yourself, and I told you everything about me, and we were really different...but I dunno, we just kinda clicked, you know? We did fight a lot, and sometimes it even got physical, but..." He looked at Arthur with a peculiar expression on his face. "As much as I wanted to yell at you sometimes, I just felt really drawn to you, you know? I didn't even understand it myself." He paused.

"Like...at first I thought it must be because I hated you and we didn't get along - maybe I disliked you so much that that was why I couldn't stop thinking about you - but I guess, sooner or later I realized that wasn't it. I felt like we...I don't know how to explain it," he finished unsurely, waving his hand in the air.

But Arthur understood, and he nodded, trying to hide a smile.

"And you just..." Alfred smiled, his eyes growing brighter, "You just got me, you know? Like, you'd pretend you were pissed off, but you just understood me so well and you always did stuff out of your way just to make me happier, and I did the same to you, and, uh...I dunno, one thing led to another..." Alfred blushed slightly, and his hand froze; Arthur sensed where his story was going.

"Yeah...and...I kinda asked you out," he said, a slight smile on his face. "And at first I think you didn't really believe me, and you actually got kind of angry, because I think you thought I was straight or something, but I eventually got you to agree. And I'm bi, by the way. Just a reminder," he said, winking. Arthur looked away, and Alfred squeezed his hand.

"It was hard, though. Really hard. Because the law forbade it. And we had actually seen a couple of public executions for that sort of stuff, so...I mean, you were scared. Rightly. But I convinced you, and I promised to protect you."

"I don't need protecting-"

"And after our apprenticeship was over, and we realized we...wanted to stay together, forever, we moved back to Alar for a while, to get our own place," Alfred continued, cutting off Arthur with a small grin, "Set up shop, you know?"

Arthur suddenly realized that he wasn't recalling any memories as Alfred was speaking.

He wondered why.

"And we were both really interested in music, and..." Alfred shifted a bit. "We thought it would be fun to write a song together. Not to be professional singers or entertainers or anything, but just...just for us. So we each wrote lyrics, and...I don't know, I just wrote about our love but then you got really embarrassed; I think you wrote about unicorns or something."

Arthur scolded his past self internally, flushing slightly.

"Yeah, you might have been drunk, actually," Alfred admitted with a grin. "Anyway, I think we eventually agreed on my lyrics, but then you edited them and made the language a lot more...I dunno. Poetic? Fancy? Pretty? See, the thing is, Arthur, I mentioned this before, but...we weren't really...it wasn't allowed. Two guys together, two girls together...people didn't like that sort of thing back then, right?"

Arthur froze, sensing the tension in Alfred's hand.

Although times hadn't really changed. It was still punishable by death for being homosexual.

"So...so we had to keep it under wraps, you know? It was really hard, not being able to hold hands when we went out on dates and stuff like that."

And it was hard not being able to remember every moment he had shared with Alfred.

But Arthur held his tongue, allowing Alfred to continue.

"And..." Alfred paused. "You used to have a thing for this other guy. Francis."

Arthur's heart thudded in his chest.

"And Francis still hadn't gotten over you. I think you might have went out before you came to Jonek or something, I don't know and I don't really wanna think about it, but he was still after you. And...and, one day, I saw him go into your house in Alar. Oh - when we set up shop, you still stayed in your house, but I stayed in my own for a bit to avoid suspicion. By that time, we hadn't gotten our own place. Anyway, you let him in."

"And of course, I trusted you. So I just ignored it. After all, it must have been nice seeing an old face, right? But he kept coming over...and then I thought something must be up. So I asked you about it, and you just dismissed it immediately. Actually, you were being really...defensive. So I kind of got pissed off and stopped talking to you."

"But you still didn't respond. You're pretty stubborn, Arthur. So I finally gave in, since you didn't seem to want to, and I confronted you about it. But you just kept denying that you saw him, which was weird to me - after all, I would have accepted an apology or explanation. But you just refused to admit that he was there in the first place. So I went to Francis directly and asked him why he was fooling around with my boyfriend - and he just laughed at me." Alfred's eyes darkened. "So I got pretty pissed off, naturally. And we got into our first big fight."

Alfred paused. Arthur squeezed his hand again, and Alfred shot him a grateful glance.

"We didn't talk for weeks. I said some hurtful things before I left - and...and I insulted you. Your...preference, as you like to call it. I told you that there was something wrong, when you would only date guys. Then I went back to Jonek. I was so..." Alfred looked pained. "I was so dumb, so immature...I was so insecure that I took it out on you."

"But then you sent me a letter, and you apologized. You said everything was a big misunderstanding, and you asked me to come back to Alar and you said that you would explain everything there. So, of course, as your hero, I packed up my bags and ran back over there," Alfred said with a smile. "I was so relieved, too. I wasn't sure what I'd do if I pushed you away forever. Because by then I realized that I was head over heels in love with you, and it was the kind of love that doesn't fade."

Arthur felt his face grow warm.

"And then..."

Another squeeze.

Alfred's breath hitched as he frowned. "I...We did meet again. You were...you were throwing a party in your house. But you moved by then, to a more rural town, so it took me a while to get there. I had to ask around, because I went to your old place at first and was surprised that you weren't there. And by the time I got there...you were drunk. Having a party. Francis was there, so were some others. And I think someone insulted your interest in fantasy," Alfred paused, looking at Arthur. "That hasn't changed, I guess. Anyway, someone said to you that unicorns and fairies and demons and pixies weren't real. So...I think you tried summoning something."

A pause. Another deep breath.

"I don't remember what happened right after that. I just remember..." Alfred shook his head. "Just...so much...I was so jealous, Arthur, you can't even imagine...I felt horrible. Wretched. Sick, but no matter how many times my stomach churned it wouldn't go away, and...and I just remember I didn't really feel like myself, you know? And after that..." Alfred squinted. "I think there was something there, actually. Wait..."

A pause.

"Yeah, I think...I dunno, this might have been a dream. It felt like one. But...there was this guy, and he had freakish silver hair and red eyes, and...he asked me if I wanted to make you mine. And I told him that we were already technically going out, and you were the one who was cheating on me, and I told him I just wanted to make the sick feeling go away...and he told me that he would help me. He was laughing about it, actually. He had some crazy laugh. Anyway, in hindsight, he thought the whole thing was probably pretty funny. So...so he told me that I would probably feel different, but that it was just confidence or something."

"So I was like, why not? I don't really remember a lot of what happened after that. Just flashes, glimpses of memory. I just remember...I remember yelling at you, that's for certain. We got into fight after fight for at least a week after that. I think you...now that I think about it, you might have been trying to explain the whole Francis thing, but I...I don't know why. I just ignored you."

Alfred suddenly began to change as he talked, gold fading to black, blue turning red. "I wanted more from you, Arthur." His voice was lower now. "I wanted all of you. I hated it when I saw you with anyone. I was drawn to you, and I didn't want to let you go. By now, Francis was out of the picture. But you began to avoid me. The more you avoided me, the more I followed you..."

"But then, I saw, one day, you weren't home. So I called up a friend, who directed me to Francis' house. And you were there, drinking, with him."

"And I was so sick of it, so sick of you, that I called the officials. I told them you were gay. I asked them if I could interrogate you. I told them to take Francis away from you. I told them I could prove it. But the rural officials in that town weren't so good, you know? Really lazy."

Arthur's hand faltered, but Alfred held it tightly.

"So they locked you up, because they had to. But they never set up a formal execution date. And I broke in to the prison, I talked to you, and you were angry, you were scared even though you tried to hide it. But it was too late for that."

A pause.

"You wouldn't tell me why. And whatever you told me, I don't remember. I just remember feeling like it wasn't enough. Everything was black, and I took it out on you, the only one who'd listen. And before I knew it, my hands were covered with your blood, and you just kept crying but you refused to say anything to me. You didn't fault me. You didn't hate me. But I hated you so, so much right then. I loved you, and I hated you, and I hated that no matter what I did you would never hate me. So I...I ended up..."

Alfred's hand was cold. Arthur wanted to let go. Everything screamed for him to let go.

But he didn't. He wouldn't, until Alfred finished.

"...and then I realized what I did. I still remember that man, walking into the cell despite having no key, his maroon eyes that had laughed at me once were actually serious. He told me something then, I don't remember. But he seemed sad. And then I realized that you were gone. The only love of my life, gone."

Alfred's eyes fell, wide with misery.

"And then I asked myself how it happened. What had happened. But I couldn't remember. I didn't understand how I had turned into that."

Alfred met Arthur's eyes, and Arthur felt numb.

"And then, I...I killed myself."

Silence.

Arthur was shocked to the core. He didn't understand it. How that had happened. How Alfred had done that.

Alfred would never do that.

But he had.

Alfred watched him, and suddenly Arthur felt sick, sick of the red, sick of everything...

But their hands were still together, and everything told Arthur to pull away, shout at Alfred, reject him once and for all...

But one thing nagged at the back of his mind.

Silver hair. Maroon eyes.

His stomach churning, Arthur slowly drew his hand away from Alfred's. Alfred let it go freely, sorrow darkening his eyes as he stared at the floor.

"Gilbert. You met Gilbert."

Alfred looked up, blinking. Then, his eyes widened.

"Yeah...that was...Gilbert." He shifted a bit. "A-Arthur, are you...are you okay?"

Arthur stood up suddenly. "Alfred..." He felt ill. His body and soul felt tired, torn, weary. He couldn't handle it.

Alfred stood up, looking at him with concern. Hope. Mostly, regret.

"I need to be alone."

And with that, Arthur ran.

And Alfred didn't call after him.

Three days.

Three days without Alfred seemed like an eternity.

Wearily dragging himself out of bed, he staggered over to the kitchen, struggling to drink a glass of water.

He had thrown up several times in the last couple of days, and he had been unable to eat anything since hearing about the past. His headaches became migraines, and his body ached.

He had heard small snippets of that song every so often, but slowly they grew so faint Arthur could barely make out the words. And he was glad, because at the moment, he never wanted to hear that bloody song again.

He stumbled back into bed again, groaning in pain.

Arthur wasn't able to think straight, either, so any hopes he had of trying to digest the information were dashed immediately.

Forgiveness was too light a term. How could Alfred expect Arthur to forgive him for that? Forgive wasn't the right word.

Accept? ...Arthur couldn't accept it either.

He turned over, his eyes dim as he stared out the window of his bedroom. It was evening, and he could see the colors of the sky grow warmer as he felt colder and colder.

Perhaps he should just try forgetting about it.

...But it was too late for that.

Alfred had killed him. Alfred had actually killed him. Even if the darkness in him was brought out by a demon...Arthur knew too well that demons couldn't 'create' darkness in people.

They could only draw it out. Enhance it. Meaning that Alfred, in the worst of circumstances, was...was capable of...

Arthur groaned, shutting his eyes.

Alfred had killed him. His love was demented by jealousy into hate, and he had killed him.

Arthur shivered, frowning as tears began to trickle down his cheeks again. He wished he could stop. Stop thinking, stop feeling. He wished he wasn't so weak.

He curled up on the bed, opening his eyes again.

He knew Alfred regretted it. He knew he was beyond sorry, and he knew that Alfred would do anything to earn Arthur's forgiveness. But was regret enough?

The act of murder and subsequent suicide had been what pushed Alfred into madness, into hell, into becoming a demon.

Alfred had become a demon.

Arthur curled up even tighter. Because, somewhere amidst the sorrow and pain, was a deep sadness for Alfred - the sweet Alfred who had been driven mad. He didn't know why, nor how it was possible to still feel that.

Because you love him, right?

Arthur couldn't deny it. Because, past everything, he knew that Alfred was never a full demon. It was a punishment. A punishment for Alfred, to suffer and be ripped away from the world in which he belonged.

Be ripped away from Arthur.

But, despite everything...Arthur still loved him.

It was a pained love, now. It made Arthur weak. It made him want to curl up and forget the world. But it was love, nonetheless, because despite everything, he still wanted to save Alfred.

He still wanted to save his killer, and he hated himself for it.

Another day passed with Arthur more or less unconscious. He felt weak, his hair was a mess, and he hadn't looked at himself in days.

But he slowly dragged himself to the makeshift door when he heard a knock.

He slowly opened it, regretting that he hadn't punched out a small peephole - but then again, he hadn't really been in a state to do anything lately. He stared at the stranger as he opened the door fully.

He was a tall, big man, with a large nose and a friendly smile that Arthur couldn't help feel was slightly sinister. He had grey hair and violet eyes, although his eyes were very different from Matthew's.

"Oh, hello there," the man greeted, his lips tilted upwards. "You must be Arthur, yes?" His voice was higher than Arthur expected.

"...yes..." Arthur responded, surprised at the weak, wispy sound of his own voice. It sounded strained, probably from all the crying.

"And...you are Alfred's Arthur, yes?"

His heartbeat sped up. He knew Alfred? He couldn't be...

Was this man a demon too?

But still...Alfred's Arthur? He wasn't something to be owned. He glared at the man, snapping, "I am no one's but my own. And yes, I am Arthur, and I know Alfred."

The man's eyes flashed, and Arthur stepped back a bit.

"Oh, I see..." the man continued in his cheery voice. "Is that so? So, where is he?"

"Alfred?"

"Yes."

"..." Arthur sighed. "I don't know where that oaf ran off to." He pretended to act nonchalant. "I haven't seen him in days."

"Oh, but you know where he is, yes?"

"I just said I didn't know where he was."

The man's eyes narrowed. "But you are Arthur, yes?"

Arthur sighed. "What do you want? And who are you?"

"..." The man smiled again. "You may call me Ivan. I am, how do you say...Chief."

Chief?

Arthur's blood ran cold. Roderich was the Duke. He had come back with his Lieutenant. Meaning, Ivan was part of that too. Chief? Was that higher or lower than the Duke?

"I know what you are thinking," Ivan continued in his light voice. "You are thinking, who is this man, and what does Chief mean. You are lucky winner, because I will tell you. Chief of guard. Chief of defense. Chief of capture." His smile grew more menacing. "Duke did bad job. His heart would have been soft, if he had one. But me, I was born with no heart." Ivan smiled again. "So I capture easily."

Suddenly, he drew out a pipe from behind him, and the pipe seemed to grow longer and longer until it swirled around Arthur, curling and clamping around him, restraining him.

"W-What the - what the bloody hell is this?"

"Calm down, little one. This will not hurt you. Unless he does not come for you. But he will, because he is weak."

Arthur struggled, but to no avail. The pipe was tightly wound around him, and it hurt to move.

"Shh...Shall I sing you a lullaby while you wait?"

"No thank you," Arthur hissed. "And I wouldn't be so sure that Alfred will come; I don't even know where he is!"

"Oh, he will come. If he does not..." Ivan smiled at Arthur pleasantly.

"Then we will just have to retrace our steps, yes? Or, in your case, we will have to repeat how you died. Then maybe he will come for you."