I just dropped my iPad on my face and frick it hurt. Kind of a fluffy chapter. I think.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
Alfred was the first to wake. He got up, stretched, and looked at the sleeping Englishman. He was curled up on top of his coat to avoid sleeping directly on the ground. Judging from sun, the boys had slept until midday. Alfred chuckled at the man and let him be. Who could blame him for being so tired after such a long day?
The American mounted his horse and set off to go hunt for something to eat. He returned, started a fire, and cooked the rabbit he had shot. He thought about his plans for the future. The resolve to carry out his previous intentions with Arthur was slowly fading. If he wasn't going to go through with it, what was the cowboy going to do? Run around America forever? Alfred assumed that Arthur would want to go back home eventually, so that wouldn't work. Why did the stuffy Englishman have to mess with Alfred like this? The cowboy ran a hand through his blonde hair and sighed. He'd deal with it when the time came.
"Good morning, Alfred."
The American nearly jumped at the sudden noise.
"Jesus Christ, boy, ya nearly made me piss myself!"
Arthur yawned. "I suppose that could serve as pay back from when you woke me from gunpoint," he smirked as he looked at Alfred sleepily.
"Ya know, yer cute when yer not yelling," Alfred teased.
The Briton didn't know whether he should feel offended or flattered, so his words just came out all jumbled as his cheeks heated up. "I do not- who gave you the right to- Alfred F. Jones!" he stammered out.
The cowboy just laughed his irritating laugh and grinned. "And now yer back to yelling."
Arthur sat up and mumbled to himself about the 'bloody cowboy and his blasted laugh and stupid smile'. Alfred suddenly remembered something and dug around his pocket. "Feliciano gave this to me to give to ya," he said as he tossed some folded up bills to the Briton. "Said somethin' about his brother having some extra money so Feliciano wanted to split it with ya as a thank ya gift."
Arthur counted the money and it came up to seven-hundred dollars. "That was nice of him," he said.
"Is it enough for a ticket back home once we get ya outta this mess?" Alfred asked, feeling slightly saddened by his own words.
"Yes, it could purchase a ticket and more." To the cowboy's surprise, his stomach fell. Why do ya care so much, Alfred? At least this way ya won't be tempted to hurt him, he thought to himself.
"But," Arthur continued, "I'm not entirely sure if I would like to leave just yet."
Alfred perked up at this. "I would love to take a better look at this country, really," Arthur finished. It was true that the country was not as comforting and safe as his home across the pond, but America seemed to bring out a different side of the gentleman. He almost never felt the rush of excitement and adrenaline course through his veins in England where he was expected to be proper and high class. Here in America, he felt freedom and even rebellion. The country had spiced up his dull life and brought him the adventure he didn't quite ask for, but he certainly needed. After he had gotten over the shock of being shipped out of his roots, the Briton started to appreciate the new things that America had to offer.
"I'll take ya all around the great 'ole United States!" Alfred volunteered. He didn't know why he was so happy to be able to spend more time with Arthur, but he didn't really care, either. When he felt the joy surge throughout his body, he made his decision. He couldn't bear to hurt Arthur, not after what he had done for Alfred. But that pain still had to go somewhere.
Arthur smiled. "Alright, consider yourself hired."
"Finally! A town where yer not wanted!" Alfred exclaimed.
Arthur sighed. "Please do not shout that so loudly."
"Well after a month of Sundays, I started to think that ya were wanted all the way to New York!"
Before, the men had come across several towns plastered with wanted posters displaying a man with eyebrows that took up about half of his inaccurately depicted face. Still, the boys had decided it wasn't safe to loiter around, so Alfred pulled down all the posters and set off for the next town. Several days had passed after they were chased out of a town with both of their wanted posters, and Arthur was itching for a bed and clothing that didn't smell like Alfred's kind.
They walked into a saloon and Alfred hailed the bartender. "Yeah, hey, can we get some of the free lunch here and some coffee later? Thanks." The owner nodded and went to go fetch the orders.
"Free lunch?" Arthur asked.
"Don't got that in England? It's where they give ya free food. Shit kinda makes ya thirsty, though, and that's where they get yer money. Gotta watch out for that before ya find yourself drunk on the floor and callin' yer grandma's name," Alfred chuckled.
Plates full of smoked herring, salted pretzels, and steak. Out of custom, Alfred ordered two additional beers.
"This food isn't bad." Arthur chewed on his steak and took a sip of his beer. That wasn't really saying much, since they have been solely relying on what they could capture in the wild.
"Really?" Alfred said in between bites, "Most Englishmen hate this stuff. They say it ain't fresh, but hell, tastes good enough to me."
Arthur nodded and continued to eat. Alfred managed to grab himself a newspaper and skimmed over it.
"Hey Arthur, take a look at this!"
Arthur leaned over to read the headline.
"BANDIT PROSTITUTES STILL AT LARGE: TRAVELERS BE AWARE"
The Briton almost spat out his beer. The drawing underneath resembled the women that had taken Feliciano and Alfred hostage. He proceeded to read the article.
"Well, what does it say?" Alfred asked.
Arthur looked at him in surprise. "Can you not read?"
The American shifted uncomfortably. "Naw, I'm no good at reading. I only know enough words to fill a cigarette."
"I'll teach you when we get the chance," he promised. Alfred's blue eyes lit up when he heard this.
"Now about the article," Arthur continued, "You know those women that stole Feliciano and Lovino's wagon?"
Alfred nodded his head.
"Turns out they have made quite a name for themselves. They were originally prostitutes, but then decided to pick up a life of thievery. The leader has a good amount of money on her head, four-thousand dollars, to be exact. Her name is Elizaveta Héderváry," Arthur explained.
The cowboy leaned in, engrossed in the story. "Really?" he said, "We made a deal with a bunch of lady criminals?"
Suddenly, the ragtime music stopped playing and the pianist practically crashed into the two men. A few other men turned to look at the ruckus. Arthur and Alfred exchanged confused glances.
"Erm, can I, uh, help you?" Arthur asked.
The pianist remained silent until the onlookers lost interest and resumed what they were doing. "Yes," he finally said, "You said you had an encounter with Elizaveta?"
Alfred furrowed his brows. "So what if we did? Whaddaya want from us?"
"Please," the man begged, "She is the love of my life, and I would do anything to get her back."
"And what are we supposed to do about it?" the American asked.
"You can find her for me. You can convince her to come back. I love Eliza so much and I'm desperate to have her in my arms again, away from all that danger."
The boys looked at each other. Should they really trust this man? After all, he could just be after the reward money. Though the women gave them less than a pleasant time, they proved to be a decent group of women just trying to make ends meet. Alfred even left with a good impression after being fed and given their company.
"Prove it," Alfred commanded.
"Eliza is a tough one. She's fierce; very, very fierce. Actually, she could be outright terrifying when provoked. But despite that, she's also has a heart of gold."
"Lucky guess," he said.
"She enjoys homosexual interaction between men," the pianist offered.
Alfred searched the back of his mind. When he talked to her, Elizaveta would listen intensely to Alfred's stories about the long, lonely nights with other cowboys.
"I suppose a lot of women enjoy that sort of stuff," the American assumed. "Try again."
"She always has a frying pan with her and often times uses it as a weapon."
Arthur looked at Alfred for his reaction. The cowboy's face twisted up when he recalled her giving him a bruise with the pan after comparing her eyes to a cactus in a failed attempt to flirt with her.
"Okay, so ya know her," Alfred said as he narrowed his eyes, "How do we know yer not just in it for the money?"
"I will personally give you four-thousand dollars upon her return. Please, she knows my name. Tell her that Roderich sent you. If she doesn't want to come back, I wouldn't want to force her. But I am begging you, and I rarely ever beg, to at least tell her that I still love her," the pianist pleaded.
Arthur cocked a brow. "If you really do love her so much, why don't you find her yourself?"
"Because," Roderich sighed, "I've tried numerous times and failed. I get lost easily and I'm a very fragile person. It would mean the world to me if she was back home."
"Why'd she leave, then?" Alfred questioned.
Roderich looked at the ground in discomfort and told his story. "She was a soiled dove, as you know. I, um, hired her often and before I knew it, I started to hire her just to be able to spend time with her. I think she felt the same way. We went on like this until I had spent all my money on her, and then seeing her became very difficult. Then one day, she just left the brothel with several other women. My guess is that she was sick of leading such a life. I'm not asking for your pity, but rather your help. Will you do it?" The pianist gulped in anticipation.
Arthur was the first to respond. "I'm sad to hear that, but-"
"We'll do it!" Alfred cried.
"W-what?" the Briton asked.
The pianist's face lit up. "Oh, thank you so much!" he said as he shook their hands.
Arthur snatched his hand back. "I'm sorry, mister, but please excuse Alfred and I for a second." The angry Englishman grabbed Alfred's wrist and dragged him outside.
"Quit volunteering both of us for these blasted jobs!" he yelled.
"Didja see the look on his face? Poor guy really loved her. Wouldn't ya want someone to help ya if the girl of yer dreams was out robbin' explosive wagons and shit? C'mon, Arthur, he even offered four-thousand dollars," Alfred pouted. That bloody pout. Arthur held on for a little longer.
"Ow! My poor arm!" the Briton exaggerated as he clutched his healing wound, "Why do I have this, anyway? Oh yes, it was from the last time I helped someone!" he spat.
"Does it still hurt that bad?" the cowboy asked worriedly as he pried Arthur's hand off to take a better look.
"No, you git, I'm just trying to make a point. The last time you made me do this sort of thing almost got me killed. I don't think I'm quite on your level of insanity to do it again."
"Please, Arthur!" the American begged as he got on his knees and clasped his hands together to enhance the effect, "I'm supposed to be a hero, remember? How can I rescue people if I don't got my trusty partner?"
"Partner?" Arthur fumed. "I'm not even your friend, much less your partner! Do not refer to me with such familiarity!"
Without getting up from his knees, the American moved in closer and hugged the man's waist tightly and resorted to singing. "Say, darkeys, hab you seen de massa!" he bellowed.
"Alfred!" Arthur scolded with a reddening face.
"Wid de muff-stash on his face!" he sang even louder.
"Alfred! Stop it!" the embarrassed Englishman tried to pry the cowboy off of him.
"Go long de road some time dis mornin'!" the American continued to sing. A few men exited the saloon and threw odd glances at the pair. "H-hello, gentlemen," Arthur stammered with a nervous smile as the men confusedly walked away.
"Like he gwine to leab de place!"
"Shut your mouth, you bloody yank!"
"He seen a smoke, 'way up the ribber!"
A couple of women walked by and giggled.
"For the Lord's sake, Alfred!"
"Whar de Linkum gunboats lay!"
"I'll do it!" Arthur gave in.
Alfred looked up at him, smirking. "He took his hat an' lef' berry sudden!"
"I'll do it, you derranged American! I'll help the blasted man!" Arthur said even louder.
The cowboy busted out into a huge grin. "Whoowee!" he hollered as he squeezed the man hard enough to make him grunt, "I knew ya'd do it!"
Arthur could only review his past decisions, trying to decide where he went wrong.
Roderich bursted out of the saloon doors, having heard their whole conversation from the inside of the building. He looked at the two, grinned for once in his life, and thanked them as much as he could.
"Where are we going tomorrow?" Arthur asked with slight annoyance.
"Laramie," an overjoyed Alfred responded.
The next day, they were to depart on a journey to find Elizaveta. Without any idea of her destination, they would first have to contact the owner of her former brothel located in Laramie.
In the darkness of their rented room, the two soaked in every moment of having beds. Arthur was especially relieved because he had never slept on the floor until he moved. Alfred was just happy because he got to sleep in a bed for once. Arthur was just about to fall asleep when...
"Arthur," a voice from across the room whispered.
The Englishman tried to brush it off. Maybe if he ignored him long enough, he would shut up.
"Arthur," Alfred called again.
"What?" Arthur snapped.
"Yer falling asleep before me."
In the excitement of having an actual bed, Arthur almost forgot about their nightly routine. Because Alfred was afraid of being up alone, Arthur had to tell him a story until the cowboy drifted off. Usually, the Briton ended up accidentally falling asleep before Alfred, but the American still valued the small comfort before sleeping. Particularly irritated with him today, Arthur decided to tell a story that differed from his usual fairy and unicorn-filled tales.
"You're a child," Arthur reminded the man before starting his narration. Alfred didn't respond, eager to hear what the flying mint bunny was up to next. The Briton cleared his throat and began. "This happened fairly recently, actually. A ship, the Amazon, was sent on her maiden voyage from Nova Scotia."
"Is this story real?" Alfred interrupted.
"Of course it's real! All of my stories are!" an insulted Arthur huffed. "As I was saying," he continued, "She was sent on her maiden voyage. The first captain to have sailed her, one of the owner's son, contracted pneumonia and died nine days within her maiden voyage. The next captain was in a shipyard to repair her when a fire just happened to break out in the middle of the ship. He was second captain to die on board." Arthur paused to build suspense.
"I don't like where this is headed," Alfred quavered.
The Englishman pressed on with his tale. "The Amazon crossed the Atlantic beautifully without any problems, that is, until she entered the Straits of Dover. There, she crashed into a brig, ending the captain's reign over her. Come to think of it, she was rather unlucky, causing several of her many owners to become bankrupt. The Amazon was a magnet for bad luck. One could even say she was-" Arthur had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing, "cursed." He waited in silence and heard Alfred gulp fearfully.
"Eventually, she was soon in the hands of some shipowners in New York. By this time, she was renamed 'Mary Celeste'. As all seamen know, it's bad luck to rename a ship. Apparently, Americans think they're invincible and decided to change her name anyway. This is when the real misfortune occurs.
"Mary Celeste was en route from New York to Italy. She was carrying thousands of dollars worth of alcohol and ten passengers, two of which were the captain's wife and two-year old daughter. The crew consisted of very capable seamen. One day, a crew member from another ship called Dei Gratia saw a vessel. He gathered the other crew members to take a look at the mystery ship. Receiving no response from the other ship, some crew members of the Dei Gratia decided to investigate.
"Upon approaching the distressed ship, they learned that her name was none other than Mary Celeste. They searched the ship, only to find her deserted. There was no distress signal, just a free spinning steering wheel with nobody to man it. All of the passengers seemed to have simply vanished. Not a soul was onboard.
"If that wasn't strange enough, the cargo, personal belongings, and valuables remained virtually untouched. The ship still had six months worth of perfectly good food and water. Some even say that dinner was out and ready for consumption. Where did the passengers go? Theories range from mutiny to sea monsters. Personally, I don't believe it was either of those two. Both would lead to a disorderly ship and many damages."
"W-what do ya th-think it was?" Alfred chattered.
Arthur mischievously grinned in the dark. "Me? I believe there was a ghost among them. Think about it, who else would have no need for valuables? But I suppose we will never really know, since the passengers were never heard from again. As the saying goes, 'dead men tell no tales'."
There was a moment of silence before Alfred let out a terrified scream.
"That's too scary!" he shrieked. "Please tell me it's not true!"
"I've already told you, all my stories are true."
The full grown man jumped out of his bed and made his way into Arthur's. He hugged the smaller man tightly and burrowed his face into his back. "Ya gotta let me sleep with ya! I can't sleep alone knowing that there are g-g-ghosts attacking ships!"
Arthur could feel Alfred trembling. Despite this, the Englishman was still growing a dark shade of red. "Quit being such a child and return to your own bed," he commanded.
"No! I can't! What if a ghost is waiting there for me to return so he can make me disappear like that crew? What if ya wake up tomorrow mornin' and I'm gone? I don't wanna tell no tales, Arthur!"
The Briton sighed, seeing that he was going to get nowhere arguing with him (like always). "Just for tonight, understand?"
Alfred squeezed him harder. "Thank ya so much! I'm so glad to have a friend like you, Artie!" The man was practically hysterical with joy.
"I'm not your frie-" Before Arthur could finish, Alfred gave the him a big happy thank you kiss on the back of his neck and fell asleep before the other man could recover. Meanwhile, Arthur was pretty much glowing red in the dark. "Bloody Americans..." he muttered to himself.
Wait a minute, Artie?
AN: Bandit leader revealed! You probably guessed it before, but oh well. Now the boys are off onto another quest. Hang in there, Arthur! Big 'ole tough cowboy is afraid of ghosts. Isn't that cute?
Free lunch was an actual thing in saloons back then. The French and English usually thought it tasted like shit since it wasn't always fresh
The song Alfred sings is called "Year of Jubilo". It's painfully catchy, though the lyrics aren't really great (but what else would one expect from the 1860s)
The story of Mary Celeste really happened, by the way. SpoOkY
Month of Sundays- a really long time (accurate even today)
Soiled dove- prostitute