Title: Tragic

Pairing: America + Britain/England

Rating: T

Arthur hadn't meant to do it. He just saw the bread sitting there, unsuspecting, half on, half off the table, and the familiar itch had come over him, burning through his limbs with a furious need. He needed to take that bread. He needed it.

He had been clumsy about it. Clumsily, carelessly, he had sidled over and grabbed the bread, then taken off through the crowd, back the way he had come. He had heard shouts behind him, and had sped up, but there was really nothing he could do. He heard the furious clip-clopping of the soldiers' horses' hooves and had known that he was going to be caught and taken to jail, and once they figured out who he was, he would probably be sentenced to death. You don't just steal something right under the nose of the Earl without getting punished for it, and he had done it twice.

He had tried to duck down an alley in a last-ditch attempt to avoid capture, but just as he had thought he might be able to escape, he was jerked back by his collar. He stumbled back, gagging and coughing, and wondered if they'd even be able to hang him after the man was done with him.

"I caught him!" the soldier had shouted. "I caught the thief! He's here!"

And now, here he was, locked up in a cell and guarded, which was strangely flattering, in a way. They thought that he needed to be not only locked in a cell but guarded as well? They must think highly of him.

Minutes quickly turned into hours, and then slowly into afternoon, and suddenly the silence was broken.

"So, what're you in for?" the guard asked suddenly. Arthur jumped at the sound of another human voice.

"M-me?" he asked hoarsely, gesturing towards himself.

The guard turned to look at Arthur and smiled slightly at him. "Yeah. You. What're you in for?"

"Stealing," Arthur said firmly. "From the Earl. Twice."

The guard whistled appreciatively, which seemed kind of weird for a guard to do. "Like Robin Hood?" the guard asked. Arthur noticed, towards the back of his mind, that the guard's glasses looked strangely lovely on him. Arthur ignored that thought and instead considered the question. Did bringing the gold to his family mean that he's rather like the infamous Robin Hood?

"Not quite," Arthur answered.

"Oh. What does that mean?"

"I gave it to my family." he told the guard.

"Who's your family?" the guard asked, getting more comfortable on the unstable stool he was occupying with a couple of creaks.

Arthur was suddenly angry. Why was it that, only now, when he was about to die, did guys finally decide to take interest in him? It wasn't fair! "Why should I tell you?!" Arthur demanded fiercely. The guard blinked in surprise, and then looked slightly let down.

"I'm sorry. I overstepped my boundaries," he muttered stiffly, turning away from Arthur once more.

"No- wait- I'm sorry." Arthur said, trying to patch it up. "I didn't mean it. It's just- I'm about to die."

Immediately, the man turned back to him. "No, no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry into your business, it's fine, you don't have to tell me." But the man smiled at him again, and all was well.

Hours turned to days, weeks, a month, and in that time, Arthur and his guard- who he soon learned was called Alfred -grew closer and closer and closer until, by the time Arthur's execution date began drawing nearer, Alfred brought up a forbidden subject:

"Hey, Artie?" he asked casually one night as Arthur was eating his meager dinner if bread and water. Alfred had also slipped him some meat and cheese, for which he was grateful.

"What?" Arthur asked, swallowing his mouthful of dry bread.

"What do you think about running away?"

Arthur dropped his crude wooden cup of water on the floor in shock, staring at his friend. "What did you just say?" he asked, breathless with surprise.

"Running away. You, me, and nobody else. We could run away from this place before they kill you, find another town to live in, pretend we're brothers. We could do it, you know," Alfred added, seeing Arthur's doubtful expression.

"I don't think we could escape," Arthur said. It wasn't that the idea of escaping with his prison guard didn't appeal to him; it was just that... he didn't think it would ever happen in real life. They could talk about it all they wanted, but... it would never happen.

"I think we could," Alfred said optimistically. "I think we could." he repeated once more, even more firmly, as if this would make it true.

"What makes you think that we could get past... how many guards? Twenty?"

"More like five-and-twenty." Alfred corrected happily, locking his hands behind his head and smiling. "We could do it though,"

"No we couldn't!" Arthur said exasperatedly. "We'd be killed!"

"Nah. Even swords can't stop love," Alfred said it so off-handedly that Arthur probably would have convinced himself he hadn't said it all but for the quick glance he shot Arthur's way, as if he was scared of his reaction.

"L-love?" Arthur asked, half to satisfy Alfred, half to satisfy himself.

"Love," Alfred said firmly. "Like what I feel for you!" Arthur turned bright red with embarrassment, opening and closing his mouth a couple times in an effort to find words to say.

"Y-you love me?" asked Arthur, not sure what this meant. Did he love Alfred back? Was he supposed to? Should he lie and say that he did? It didn't matter, did it, since he was going to die anyways. But Alfred was talking about escaping. Arthur briefly imagined it, somehow escaping with Alfred, pretending to be brothers so that they could stay together, taking whatever jobs they could and keeping away from the Earl's soldiers. It was a strangely scary but wonderful thought, and Arthur decided that, even if he didn't love Alfred, he would go anyways, because he loved being around Alfred, at the very least.

"Yes, I love you," Alfred said, once he had seen that Arthur was no longer thinking. "So will you run away with me?" He didn't bother asking if he loved him back. He knew that it was too soon for Arthur to know yet. He would have to think about it first.

"Yes..." Arthur said, though he didn't sound quite certain.

"All right!" Alfred cheered. "How should we do it?"

The day before the execution, Alfred unlocked the door to Arthur's cell and covered him in an oversized black cloak, effectively hiding him from sight, more-or-less. Arthur kept his head tightly tucked under the hood so that his telltale emerald eyes would not be seen- recently Alfred had been fond of saying how they were the most beautiful eyes in the kingdom, and it made Arthur feel as if he just might love the other man... maybe, a little bit -but, because of the hood, he couldn't see anything but his feet, and just barely at that, so Alfred was forced to hold his hand and lead him sneakily away from the jail.

They made steady progress, sneaking away from the main cluster of buildings and into the yard that led to a rather flimsy wooden fence. Alfred had, the day before, loosened a couple of boards so that they would be able to slip through and make their great escape. At this point in time, both of them were so focused on what would happen after the escape, they didn't even really think about the problem of escaping, and so they were both rather surprise when the shout came up from one of the prison buildings:

"Hey! That thief! That one guy, who was supposed to be executed tomorrow? He's escaped! Quick, go look for him!"

Time seemed to slow down as they heard the sounds of guard beginning to run outside to look for them. The sounds of running footsteps and shouting voices, the flickering of torches, seemed to go on forever, until suddenly a voice shouted, "Over here!" and all the footsteps began making their way towards the two escapees.

Time seemed to speed up then, skipping normal speed and heading straight into fast forward, as the sounds of the men grew closer and Alfred began running ever faster, dragging Arthur ungracefully behind him. They ran and ran and ran, and, though they were making progress, it seemed to them as if they were running backwards and not forwards, because the wooden fence didn't seem to be getting any closer, though the sounds of the other men running after them did.

And then suddenly- or so it seemed -they were right in front of the fence. Alfred quickly rushed forward to pry away the loosened boards, then gestured Arthur to escape before him, saying that he would follow. Arthur scrambled through the small hole, nearly getting stuck as his stupid cloak got caught on a splinter, but he finally made his way through. He then scrambled away a few paces to wait for Alfred, who immediately began crawling through the hole.

And that was when it happened.

There was a low thwunk and Alfred jerked suddenly, eyes widening in surprise. Arthur watched, not quite sure of what was happening, until Alfred slowly fell to the ground. It wasn't a particularly long fall, only a couple inches, really, but the way Alfred's head hit the ground, the way his limbs crumpled under him in an awkward manner, and the way his eyes stayed open the whole time, made it seem like a long, long fall.

Arthur fell to his knees beside the other man, reaching out a shaking hand to gently touch his face. Alfred didn't move. Alfred would never move again. Alfred was dead. And it was all Arthur's fault. He felt tears prick his eyes and begin their slow way down his face. As if through a long, dark tunnel, he heard footsteps come up to Alfred from the other side of the fence.

"Did we get 'im?" asked one guard in a gruff voice. If Arthur had been able, he would have scrambled to his feet and run away as fast as he could. As it was, he only moved when the two or three guards on the other side of the fence grabbed Alfred by the legs and began pulling him through the hole. Arthur frantically reached out to grab his hand, to keep him there with him, but let go when he realized that he couldn't keep Alfred with him... because Alfred was gone.

"Aw damn, we didn't get the prisoner. We got the guard. Wonder where he went off to. We ought to tell everyone to go look for 'im, eh?"

"Naw, we don't. We can just say this one 'ere's the prisoner, right? After all, no one would know any better, right?"

"Ah, good idea," the second guard said, sounding rather impressed at the other man's idea. "So, this one's the prisoner, and the guard got away, right?"

"Yeah. Right tragic, it is."

"Rightly so,"

Arthur watched numbly as Alfred's empty body was slowly dragged away by the still talking prison guards. Alfred was gone. Alfred... the Alfred who had been with him for months now, keeping him company as he awaited his death... the Alfred who laughed so easily... the Alfred who he had considered falling in love with...

Tragic...

A/N I dunno why, but I feel like writing tragedy write now, and Arthur and Alfred were my first victims. MWAHAHA!