Medwyn didn't need to question why Alistair adorned a plaster on his face, or why he'd overheard his elder brother argue with Arthur once again in which a thunderous bang brought about the sudden end of the alteraction. Wales knew. He just knew what had unfolded. After cleaning and putting away Alfred's dishes he gave the child permission to play outdoors, since he'd completed the work set for him and the weather was pleasant outside. Which was just as well, as the boy wasn't in the house to hear Arthur and Alistair come to blows. Whilst placing a tray of scones in the oven to bake, the Welshman reflected on his relationship with Arthur. Medwyn felt he knew Arthur the best, having fostered a close relationship with him given their long history together. Yet in his tyranny, he was closed off to all reason and rationale. It wasn't just Alistair who tried to reason with the Englishman, Medwyn also attempted to and the result was the same: it ended in an argument and nothing changed as a result.
"What are you baking?" the sound of Arthur's voice startled Medwyn, his presence going undetected. Wales turned to see England leaning against the doorframe, a pen tucked behind his ear and his flaxen hair dishevelled, as though it hadn't seen a hairbrush in days. "Scones, I thought they'd go nice with some tea this afternoon" the Welshman elaborated, setting the kitchen timer and setting to work and wiping down the work surfaces. Arthur hummed in acknowledgement while observing his brother at work which, admittedly, made Medwyn feel uncomfortable though he did not say so. "Please can you bring one and some tea to my office when they're ready?" Without waiting for Wales' response, England had already left, undoubtedly to resume working. England did nothing but work these days, day and night. Wales huffed, puffing out his cheeks in irritation and leaning against the counter. Were things ever going to change?
Alistair wearily stumbled into the kitchen, procuring a glass of water from the sink next to Medwyn and greedily gulping down the liquid in no time at all and pushing the now empty glass away from him. The Scotsman felt the burning of his brothers eyes as they fixated on him and, when he turned to him, the man was faced with a worried expression clinging to Medwyn's features. "You don't look well Scot, are you feeling ok? The Welshman inquired, placing a hand to the brunette's forehead. Scotland promptly shook away Wales' hand, much to the annoyance of the blond. "I'm fine, must be the warm weather" Alistair replied meekly, motioning to leave the room only to be prevented from doing so by Medwyn grasping his shoulder. "And what about your face? Is that down to the weather?" The Welshman was unsure himself as to why he asked questions he knew the answers to: the injury was obviously caused in some capacity by Arthur and Alistair's bout of illness was undeniably linked to the altercation. Scotland narrowed his eyes, unappreciative of all of the questions Wales was asking. If he had the energy, he'd have told his younger sibling to leave him be, but right now he felt sick and tired. "I'm fine, don't make a big deal out of nothing" and with that Alistair forcibly removed Medwyn's hand from his shoulder and swiftly took his leave.
Wales let out an exasperated exhale, closing his eyes tightly as though he were wounded. How much more could he take? How much more could any of the brothers take? Everything seemed so futile and there was nothing Wales could do in his current capacity to even so much as remedy it. When the kicthen timer sounded, it made Medwyn jump. Just how long had he stood in place lamenting? As he removed the freshly baked scones from the piping hot oven and placed each baked good onto a cooling rack, taking as to not burn his fingers, the nation wished to whoever was listening for this misery to be brought to an end. Instantaneously, Alfred burst through the door, trekking mud into the home. "Uncle! Look at what I found!" Adding to Medwyn's horror at the trail of muck that followed the child, America then held open his hands to uncover a small field mouse, a proud grin donning the country's face. "That's...nice Alfred. But please put that creature back where you found it, mice do not belong indoors." Evidently, this wasn't what the boy wanted to hear for he turned tail with his shoulders slumped and head bowed to return the mouse to its rightful habitat. Naturally, Medwyn tread of Alfred's heels to ensure he did just that and did not try to sneak the rodent back into the home under the guise of keeping it as a 'pet'. While Wales observed America set off in the direction of a sturdy oak tree at the back of the garden, he mulled over the response he'd given the child and pondered whether it had been too negative.
"All done" Alfred mumbled, showcasing his empty palms to illustrate that the deed was in fact done.
"Thank you. It is exciting when we find things in the wild isn't it? But mice belong out in the wild, it would have been cruel to have kept him indoors and away from his true home." Medwyn spoke gently to Alfred, kneeling to make eye contact at the child's level.
"Yeah...how did you know I wanted the little mouse to stay with us?" The boy questioned, tipping his head to one side. This made Wales chuckle.
"Call it 'uncle's intuition'. Now if you're done playing outdoors, come in and take those wellies off- you can help me clean up the mess you've made." Now this was something the child really didn't want to hear, the thought of engaging in chores made him grimace. But then Alfred looked down at his feet and cast his eyes behind his uncle to the floor inside the house. He had certainly made quite the mess. The Welshman's suggestion came more as an instruction and so the child felt he had no choice to comply, beginning to peel the small wellington boots off and leaving them outside of the home at the door.
Elsewhere, Alistair had retreated to the study allocated to a room on the bottom floor. The nation decided to pour himself into his work to try and push what had happened to the back of his mind. Yet, as he sat at his desk, the brunette could only stare absentmindedly at the paperwork before him. Alistair was unsure how long he sat suspended in a state of inaction, willing his brain to pick up his pen, before a rapid knocking sounded at the door to the study. The sight of Arthur behind the door made the Scotsman's stomach drop. "Ah, there you are. I need you to sign these documents and proof read these reports before the end of the day" Arthur spoke matter-of-factly, placing the small stack of papers in front of Alistair. It was like as though nothing had happened and that was what scared Alistair. The fact that Arthur could switch from from being civil and calm to cold and callous at the drop of a hat was concerning, to say the least. It made living with him a challenge. The house, aside from Alfred, walked on eggshells in his presence without knowledge of what could trigger a change and fearful of what may happen if the Englishman snapped.
"Oh really now, you could at least say 'thank you' Alistair!" Arthur teased, tapping Alistair gently on the nose with a pen. Scotland blinked hard several times, unsure of how to respond to this side of Arthur. Apparently, the elder took too long to decide as Arthur slammed both hands on the desk and leant across the table so that he was in Alistair's face. "Say it" Arthur growled, his eyes void of emotion. Alistair instinctively shifted backwards in his seat, alarmed at the sudden change in his brother. The brunette felt it was best to not waste any more time lost in thought and comply with Arthur's demands, lest another object was aimed at his head. "Thank you, Arthur..." Alistair replied, the man feeling slight relief when England adjusted his stance and was no longer invading his personal space. "Now see, that wasn't so hard now was it? Anywho, I'll be upstairs in my office if you need anything." As Alistair heard the click of the door and Arthur's footsteps recede, he immediately threw himself back in his chair with hands to his head. That had been intense, for lack of a better description. After a few moments spent gathering himself, Alistair began to work on the paperwork Arthur had brought in, hoping he'd do it to a standard his brother was happy with to avoid another close call.
Just as Arthur reached the bottom of the steps, the man stopped when the sound of laughter reached him. Intrigued, the blond followed the noise until he happened upon Medwyn and Alfred in the dining room, indulging in scones and tea. The man concealed himself outside of the door and out of sight, but still close enough to eavesdrop on the conversation that was being had between the two. What he heard made Arthur's blood boil.
"So you have your own language, uncle? Why don't I hear you speak it?"
"Well, I speak English primarily when I'm here that's why and that's how Arthur likes it...you know Alistair and Cathal have their own languages too?"
"That is wonderful! Please can you speak some?"
"Ok! What shall I say to you?"
"Hm...How about: 'Alfred is the coolest!'"
"Ok...Alfred yw'r cŵl!"
"Whoa! Uncle Medwyn, you gotta teach me some!"
All talk was brought to a standstill as Arthur made an appearance, clearing his throat audibly to garner the attention of both Medwyn and Alfred. Right away, Medwyn could sense Arthur's displeasure and felt his body tense up as Arthur approached the table. "Alfred, if you're done why don't you go upstairs and play quietly in your room? Me and Medwyn just need to have a little chat." America, having practically inhaled his sweet treat, slurped the last of his tea and hopped down from his chair, "Ok Arthur!" Medwyn swallowed anxiously, uncertain as to how Arthur would proceed now that Alfred was absent. Wales decided to try and calm the younger, standing up and holding his hands up as though he were surrendering.
"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have its just he heard me mumble under my breath and... I didn't mean to, it just got a conversation going and-" Medwyn's attempt at maintaining a sense of peace fell of deaf ears. Arthur, feeling a mixture of stress and anger, spontaneously struck his brother across the face. This knocked Wales to the ground, but not before he hit the table and took some of the cutlery and plates down with him. Medwyn, sprawled unceremoniously on the floor, held a hand to his cheek and gazed up at Arthur with tears welling in his eyes. The commotion drew the attention of Alistair, who came running into the room.
"In this empire, in this household, we speak English first and foremost. I will NOT have you confusing Alfred and undermining me. Do you understand me?" England stood above Wales yet despite the anger in his voice, his face did not convey such emotion. Alistair lept to Medwyn's side, shoving past Arthur to help the Welshman to his feet. "Ah Alistair, I presume you heard what I said to Medwyn? This applies to you too." Alistair directed a foul glare at Arthur, wrapping an arm protectively around Medwyn as he felt the younger tremble. England gripped Wales by his chin and drew it up, forcing him to look the Englishman directly in the eyes. "The next time I hear or even get word of you speaking that ridiculous language of yours, there will be consequences. Don't you EVER spread your nonsense to Alfred." Scotland placed himself between the pair, earning a snide scoff from Arthur as the blond waltzed off to his office.
Medwyn pressed his hands to his mouth to stifle his sobbing, the tears flowing down his cheeks, the man sought comfort from Alistair. Scotland brought him in for a tight embrace, feeling more hatred for England building with each passing moment. The two held each other for a while before they cleared the clutter. Wales then offered to aid Scotland in his work and while Scotland typically liked working alone on his own affairs, he sensed Wales didn't want to be alone, so he accepted his brother's offer. The pair worked in almost complete silence. There were no words that could have been spoken to alleviate the heavy atmosphere.