The muddy gravel greeted Arthur as his body fell into the human world with a thwack. Wincing, the devil prince-turned country brought a hand up to rub his throbbing head, but did a double take at what he saw.
It wasn't his hand that bothered him, but the clothes he wore. Arthur's eyes trailed from his sleeve until he stared down his front. Huh, an army uniform, perhaps? Raking a hand through his hair, he felt for his horn stumps and his chest grew heavy. Still gone. He brought his hand back and stared at a few loose hairs upon his thin fingers. Blond?
Frantically crawling unstably towards a nearby puddle, Arthur gaped down at his reflection. His hairstyle had stayed the same, but instead of the rich deep red he was so used to seeing, a mop of yellowish-blond hair had reclaimed his treasured locks. And his once captivating ruby-red eyes had turned to a dull green tone. Only then did Arthur take note of an uncomfortable sensation throbbing across his shoulder blades. His wings! I should give them a stretch, he thought.
After a moment of dithering over how to remove his new uniform, Arthur finally wrenched off his top layers and stretched his poor wings to their limits, releasing a contented sigh. With a few powerful flaps, Arthur levitated several inches off the ground. Before he got to wrapped up in the moment, Arthur realized what a stupid idea it was to be flying around in the human world and dropped gracefully to the ground and hurried to get his clothes back on. After finally tying his tie the right way, the prince took in his surrounding.
To his right stood a tall and square brick building, streams of ivy climbed up through the cracks in the mortar up to the roof. Tinted windows blurred whatever went on behind the lace-curtained windows. If he craned his neck, Arthur could see white smoke billowing out of the soot-blackened chimneys. Then to his left, a forrest filled with dark green, pointed trees spread far and wide. If Arthur pricked his ears, he could tune into all the birds, insects and mammals, and he could tell what was going on in the very heart of the gloomy forrest.
"Well, this must be that 'Great Britain' place, or whatever it's called. Funny, I don't see any giant red busses or a clock-tower anywhere... Where the others lying to me?" Arthur mused, "And surely there isn't any kind of entrance back here, I must investigate the front." Nodding to himself, Arthur strode out of the shadows and into the orangey sunset light, and drew in a breath.
Before him was a beautiful olden-styled mansion, with beige bricks and brown mortar keeping the structure together. The ivy stretched all around to the front of the building, weaving around the windows where boxes of orange and red pansies hung. The heavy wooden doors looked quite formidable, and the detailed carvings around their borders depicted a battle that time long forgot. While the young prince stood in awe for what seemed like an eternity, Arthur snapped out of it at the sound of the two doors opening. Within the blink of an eye, Arthur moved into a battle stance and trained his eyes on the intruder that stood in the doorway. When the figure emerged fully, Arthur did a double take.
Blond hair with a long fringe flicked to the side, ocean-blue eyes encircled by square-framed glasses, a leather bomber-jacket and a tan army uniform. Arthur was told that Alfred would be transformed into this country's look-alike, but he had never seen the country in person, so he had no idea how to tell the two apart. But the country in front of him looked like he had seen a ghost the minute he laid eyes on Arthur, so he couldn't possibly be Alfred in disguise. But there was a weird... tension in the air, like there was an invisible tether binding Arthur and the startled country together.
There was a long silence, before the country took a few weary steps down the doorsteps and onto the grassy ground, quite a few meters away from Arthur. There was a look of doubt in the country's blue eyes, and a horrible feeling filled Arthur's stomach. Maybe he can see my ears, the prince thought worryingly, or my tail! No, thats right. My tail is coiled around my leg, totally out of sight. Could it be my teeth? But surely he can't tell from that distance, right? My wings are folded back underneath my clothes, so why is he staring at me?!
Arthur dismissed his anxious thoughts and went to look back up at the country, but nearly yelped when he instead found the country embracing him, his fingers caressing Arthur's hair, a warmth next to his ear. "Britain... is that really you?" The country murmured, his voice husky and thick with a recognizable American accent.
Before he could stop and think, Arthur wrenched off the country's arms and pushed him to the ground, an angry and not-so-human growl resonated inside the prince's chest. White sparks of anger spotted Arthur's vision, chest heaving as he stared down the surprised and hurt American. Getting up and brushing himself off slowly, the country retained a distance of a meter away from Arthur and started talking again.
"Dude... It's me, America. Your ally, remember?" America stopped and slapped a palm to his forehead, "Damn, that's right, I forgot. Amnesia. From the accident." The country looked to the ground mournfully.
What amnesia? What accident? Those questions circled around inside poor Arthur's head as he tried to think of what to do next. All he could think to do was nod at the country.
"So you can't remember anything, huh? Not even..." But the country held his tongue and brought up something else, "So the doctor said you could leave the hostpital?" Arthur nodded again, and America let out a soft chuckle and stepped a few paces closer. Arthur froze, but the country only propped his hand on Arthur's shoulder, a warm smile glowing on his face, "It's okay, I'm not gonna bite your head off if you dare speak to me or anything..."
I can't say the same if you try to embrace me with your filthy hands again, you freak, Arthur thought bitterly, but retained a calm composure. America hummed, and snapped his fingers with his free hand, "I know, you're probably just tired. Come inside, we've got a spare bedroom upstairs."
"We?" Arthur croaked, surprised at his hoarse voice and cleared his throat, "I mean, we?"
America, who looked pleased at Arthur finally speaking, nodded, "Yeah, I'm not your only ally. There's the whole gang. The five of us make up the Allied Forces," America shook his head, "Sorry, I'm probably telling you too much. Come on, I'll re-introduce you to everyone tomorrow, okay?"
And with that, the country lead Arthur into the building, up the grand staircase and stopped at the third door in the right corridor, "Here we are. You'll find bedclothes and an extra uniform in the closet to your right, your's looks pretty wrecked," America said, pointing at Arthur's back, the material was coated with mud and gravel and was torn in someplaces. Arthur sighed in relief that there were no cuts on his body. Demon blood was usually black, but blood of a incarnation was a deep violet instead of red like human blood. He'd be spotted out instantly.
"Well, goodnight Britain. I'll see you tomorrow," America bided the prince goodnight, but lingered at the door. Arthur noticed the country's lips parted only slightly, as America looked from Arthur's eyes, to his cheeks and to his lips. Before Arthur could question what he was doing, America closed the door hurriedly and briskly walked away.
Suddenly, a pain encircled Arthur's heart, and felt a certain longing for something. Shaking the feeling away, Arthur stripped off the soiled clothes, rummaged around the closet for a pair of pajama pants that actually fit him, gave his wings one more well-deserved stretch and flopped onto the queen-sized bed, grateful that the comfortable mattress and bedding matched the standard of his own back in Hell.
Laying his head back on the feather down pillows, Arthur wondered how Alfred was fairing out in the world, and hoped he would find him soon. His heartache only grew as he thought of his adviser, and slowly descended into a rough sleep.
Alfred awoke, gasping heavily, right in the middle of a busy crossroad. Tall high rises lumbered over him, the brightly colored lights of the city district burning his eyes. Horns were beeping, people were shouting and screaming, Alfred heard the click of a gun being loaded and jumped up. Pain flushed through his head and he stumbled back down, knotting his hands through his hair.
His memory was patchy from that moment on and he could only remember snippets of that night. Red and blue lights flashing, the weight of the handcuffs securing his arms behind his back, a sour interrogation, and a terrible nightmarish sleep.
The next day, Alfred couldn't stop worrying over Arthur, his prince, as the coppers let him go that morning after they received a bail payment from an anonymous source. Alfred found the human world very strange, but was glad he was out of confinement. He predicted that he was somewhere in a built-up United States city, New York most likely. He knew it could take hours, days even, to find Arthur. And for all he knew, they could've been put in two different countries. All the thinking and no food was starting to weaken the demon, and he set off to find something to eat.
"Damn, these backstreets go on forever, like a great Labyrinth in Hell..."Alfred said to himself, as he walked past a windowed building, stopping at the last window abruptly. For the first time since he landed in the human world, Alfred looked at his reflection in awe. Locks of auburn-brown hair instead of ebony, his eyes the colour of blood instead of water. His horns were gone, and he had cast an invisibility charm on his giant wings and tail before he fell into the daunting world.
"Tan skin... That's new." Alfred thought dryly, "The whole atmosphere of this place is depressing. This can't be the true world... Did the damned portal drop me in another dimention?"
Alfred's racing thoughts were broken by a sweet, high-pitched song. The melody brought back memories from the past, memories from his past. Alfred whirled around, but there was nothing but dull brick walls. The song was getting louder and louder, the walls crept closer and closer. The air turned stale, and the devil slammed his hands over his ears, hissing and yowling in pain.
"My, my... Impressive doppelgänger..." A voice like silk chuckled, like someone he knew, "But your kind can't hide from the likes of me, poppet."
"That voice... Arthur? But he would not torture me, not his adviser," Alfred thought, but the pain was too much to bear, and his mind melted like butter as the devil lapsed into unconsciousness.