This was it. America stood outside of Ireland's room, a door being the only thing standing between the two. After much deliberation and internal conflict as to whether he was doing the right thing, the blond summoned his courage and knocked on his uncle's door. No response. But perhaps he was sleeping, as Arthur did say this illness Cathal had come down with made him exceptionally exhausted to the point where he was confined to his bed. Alfred gently twisted the door knob, the door creaking open gradually to reveal a dimly lit room and a weakened Ireland laying in bed. The young boy looked on in astonishment at his uncle's condition. He knew Ireland had been ill, but the elder looked almost like an entirely different person were it not for his signature auburn hair and eyebrows that bore resemblance to the rest of the brothers. Alfred contemplated leaving, abandoning the test altogether. But, the risk was too great. A vampire in the house was dangerous! He had to be sure! Carefully creeping across the carpet, Alfred set down the drink onto Cathal nightstand and lightly shook the Irishman's shoulder to wake him. The room stunk of sweat, sick and sorrow. Slowly, Cathal began to stir, forcing his eyelids open to see the blurred shape of his nephew standing in front of him. "Al...fred? What're you doing in here? You shouldn't be here..." Cathal croaked out, another fit of coughing rendering the man speechless. America winced, seeing up close just how severe Ireland's condition was. The man's face appeared frail, his rib cage looked like it would burst through his skin at the softest movement. America didn't know what to say in response, so he gestured to the drink on the nightstand whilst averting his gaze away from the sickly country, "I made this for you. I uh, hope you get better soon!" Cathal smiled, reaching for the glass, he was dehydrated amongst other things. Ireland presumed Wales or even Scotland tasked the lad with bringing him a beverage to lift his spirits, so he brought the glass to his lips and began to drink gratefully without properly comprehending what was in the glass. Alfred took a few steps backwards to observe his uncle from a safe distance. If he was a vampire, he would writhe in agony and possibly perish, if only for a short spell. If he wasn't a vampire well...Alfred hadn't thought that far ahead as he was caught up in possibility of his uncle being a murderous vampire. What if Ireland wasn't a vampire? He'd find the drink disgusting and be quite perplexed. How would Alfred explain? Would he find it funny? As soon as the liquid slid down Ireland's throat, the stench of garlic that penetrated his nostrils and the thickness of the syrup combined made him want to heave. What on was hs drinking? Was this some kind of joke? Before Cathal could quiz Alfred on what he'd been presented with, the man reached for a nearby basin and lurched forward to vomit profusely. America looked on, wide eyed and now fearful. Did this mean his uncle was a vampire? The American was paralysed with fright, unsure of what to do.
At that moment, Alistair burst through the door and rushed to his brother's aid, rubbing the Irishman's back in small circles whilst supporting him upright in bed. Upon his investigation into Alfred's potential shenanigans, he'd heard a commotion from Cathal's bedroom and diverted his attention there only, it seemed from Alfred's presence in the room, along with the guilty expression written all over his face that his attention needed to be brought back to Alfred's misdeeds. Cathal retched violently until what little he had remaining in his stomach was expelled and the Irishman fainted in Alistair's arms. Alarmed, Alfred felt panic taking hold, his heart beating rapidly at seeing his uncle flop lifelessly, "Is he ok?" the boy managed to squeak out. Scotland sighed and laid his sick sibling back down in bed, tucking him in like a child while moving the basin to the floor beside the bed, just in case it was required again. It was then that Alistair clocked the half-full glass of America's 'milkshake' on the bedside table and one whiff of it made the Scot's stomach turn. "Outside. Right now." The Scotsman commanded, his voice stern and the building redness in his cheeks evidencing building anger. The boy gulped, trodding out of the room with his head hung low. Outside of the room, Alistair knelt down and held the drink to Alfred.
"Look at me."
The tone of the Scotsman's voice made the American's knees tremble and his sky blue eyes water. If he wasn't in trouble before he was about to find himself in deep trouble now.
"LOOK at me."
Alfred snapped his head up right away, shifting uncomfortably in place as he was forced to confront what he'd done. Alistair's roar rang throughout the house and brought Arthur out of his study. "Alistair? What is the meaning of this?" The Englishman questioned, shifting his gaze between the two with his hands placed on his hips. Despite England's interjection, Scotland did not budge and maintained eye contact with Alfred.
"Answer me. Right now."
Alfred opened and closed his mouth noiselessly, trying to form a response to Alistair's demand. In desperation, the boy looked to Arthur for assistance but he found none, as the flaxen haired man merely watched on, intrigued as to what was happening.
"Don't look to Arthur for help. I'm talking to you. You have until the count of five to answer me. One..." Alistair could feel his temper boiling, the situation adding to the anger he experienced earlier, though he fought to keep his composure.
Hearing Scotland threaten to count down brought a surge of adrenaline and, in a now tearful display, Alfred crumbled under the Scot's glare. "I read Dracula and I remember you said about Ireland being like a vampire 'cause he was sleeping so much so I thought what if he is one so I made this drink with garlic in 'cause I read vampires can't have garlic to see if he was one-" Alistair held a hand up to stop Alfred from babbling on further, handing Arthur the glass for him to examine. England smelled the liquid and grimaced at the pungent odour, swirling the mixture inside the glass, "you went inside Ireland's room? You KNOW that is forbidden." Meanwhile Alistair, pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on.
"You fed your uncle a drink with garlic because you took my joke quite literally, am I hearing that right? Alfred, you're old enough to know the difference between reality and fantasy." Alistair felt his heart strings tug at the sight of a sobbing Alfred, but knew the boy needed to be reprimanded for his wrongdoings. He was old enough to discern a work of fiction from reality and he was absolutely at an age to know the difference between right and wrong. "I apologise if my joke scared you. However, you took things way too far. If you were worried about Cathal being a vampire, you should have spoken to one of us about it." Arthur held back, allowing Alistair to express his thoughts. Typically, it was Arthur who handled the child-rearing, especially when it came to discipline but given Alistair had uncovered one of Alfred's shenanigans it felt more than appropriate to have the Scot deal with the child accordingly.
"I-I'm so sorry Alistair, I didn't mean for Cathal to be sick like that" Alfred choked out, removing his glasses to wipe his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.
"What did you think would happen? He'd ask for seconds? Your uncle is very, very ill and this won't have helped his condition in the slightest. This isn't some minor mistake, this is serious Alfred!" Alistair felt his voice gradually rise higher and higher.
"Well no but I thought if he was a vampire it'd show and then I'd tell someone because then we'd have to, like do something about it- I was trying to protect us!" Alfred stammered, trying to justify his actions to make his caregivers see the rationale behind them. Unfortunately, the more Alfred spoke the more he saw Alistair's eyes darken. In that moment, the sound of the front door unlocked and Wales announced his return. Hearing the commotion, the Welshman placed the groceries down onto the dining room table and actively pursued the source, happening upon the three countries on the upstairs landing. "What's going on?" Medwyn shot Arthur a puzzled expression when the younger handed him Alfred's creation. Like his brothers, the smell and appearance of the liquid disgusted him, the Welshman letting out a gag and covering his mouth. "Alfred thinks Cathal is a vampire and made this garlic beverage to test his theory", Arthur elaborated briefly, taking the glass back off his elder brother as he watched Medwyn's face turn a shade of green. "Eh? What? A vampire?" Wales now was truly lost, laughing in disbelief at the statement that emerged from Arthur's mouth, though he quickly stopped as the seriousness of the situation set in.
"Is Cathal ok?"
"He threw up and then passed out in my arms. He's resting now."
"Oh god-" Medwyn brushed past Arthur and peered into Cathal's room. Seeing his brother's abdomen rise and fall as he slumbered, the Welshman gently closed the door and stood at Arthur's side, his face looked equally, if not more infuriated than Alistair's did. "Your uncle is dangerously ill and you're pulling a stunt like this? What were you thinking, Alfred? In his state he could have- Sut allech chi wneud rhywbeth mor idiotig?!" Alfred winced, Medwyn usually only spoke his native tongue when he was severely agitated, which only made him cry harder. "But I was trying to save us! That's why I had to see if Cathal was a vampire because if he was we'd have been in danger-"
"That's ENOUGH Alfred. Your uncle is not a vampire. That's it. We brothers conjure up and interact with mythical beings daily, do you think we wouldn't be aware of something like a vampire in our presence?" Alistair growled, gritting his teeth together.
Arthur placed his hand on Medwyn's shoulder and cleared his throat, "Alistair? How will you deal with the situation at hand?" Scotland stood, turning to Arthur, "do you mind if I use your office?" America gasped aloud, his hands naturally covering his bottom. If he was to get a spanking, it was usually in the office as that was where the cane was kept. Much to America's horrror, England nodded in agreement to Scotland's request. Now, with nothing to lose, Alfred fell to his knees and began to beg.
"Please I'll do anything! Please don't spank me!" The child's pleas fell on deaf ears as Alistair hauled the child to his feet by the cuff of his shirt and, pincing the boy's ear lobe, led him into Arthur's office space. Alistair reached into the drawer where the cane was kept and pulled it out, the feeling of it in his hands and hearing Alfred's distress making him feel sick. Alas, the boy needed to be taught a lesson and this was the way it was done. The sight of the cane made America gasp and resume his begging.
"Uncle Alistair please, I promise I'll be so good from now on!"
"Come here. Pants down."
"No, no!" Alfred made a run for the door, but was blocked by Alistair's larger frame towering above him. In a single motion, the elder nation scooped Alfred under his arm, sitting down on Arthur's desk chair he pulled down the child's slacks and began swatting the boy's bottom. All the while, Alfred screamed and wailed, squirming in the man's grasp. It felt like the spanking lasted an eternity, but in reality it was only a matter of minutes. By the time it was over, Alfred felt exhausted from both the beating and the screaming he'd done. Having no tears left to cry the child resigned to whimpering on Alistair's knees. Scotland pulled the child's pants back up, setting the cane to one side and setting the child down. America tottered to a nearby chair and flung himself across it stomach first, as his bottom was severely sore, crying into the plush seat of the chair. Shoving the cane back into its wretched drawer, Alistair observed the child and enabled him to cry it out. Once Alfred had settled down, the brunette opened his arms and offered a hug to show there were no hard feelings. As much as the American wanted to reject the hug after what his uncle had just subjected him to in the name of 'discipline', the child desperately craved comfort and so he ran into the man's broad arms. Wordlessly, Alistair embraced the child and tenderly rocked the country to and fro, resting his chin atop the boy's head.