Arthur tilted his head back to rest against the wall, sighing loudly as if to expel his soul in one breath.
Alfred had no idea what to say. He tentatively reached out and tied to rub the blood from Arthur’s face but it only ended up smearing into a grizzly red stain.
“You used to be really kind, you know?”
He could hold himself back no longer. Alfred flung his arms around Arthur’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. If his back could shield all the bad things from touching Arthur, he would have gladly stayed like that forever. Briefly, he wondered if he was some sort of fool for clinging on to hope even now, like a desperate beggar he grabbed at whatever gleams of light flashed before his eyes.
“Arthur, I’m not – I’m not going to let you - ” he squeezed even tighter, hardly caring that Arthur was not hugging back or if Feliciano was looking at him, at how pathetic he had become. He was a hero and he would go to any lengths to save someone, to save Athur, even if – even if he had to become the villain in doing so. “I won’ t let you go the way you’re going. I’m not going to let you become like – like this!”
“They’re not going to leave me alone,” Arthur said; a cold statement of facts.
“We’ll get them! Every last one of them!” he cried.
Arthur stiffened. Though Alfred was unable to see his face, he could sense the sudden shift in demeanour. “...Yes, I suppose we’ll have to do that,” Arthur whispered, lightly touching the small of Alfred’s back.
XX
Despite tightening security, everyone was walking on eggshells the next morning. The remaining pirates had been transferred to a proper prison, leaving the manor even emptier. They held a funeral for Marianne. Alfred took it upon himself to notify her family, sending a bouquet of yellow roses with the condolence card.
That day, it did not even rain when they carried out the coffin. Marianne’s parents wanted her buried in Maine where she had grown up but they held their own service for her anyway. Kiku gave her some of his cranes and Feliciano made a chain of daisies; Alfred could see how he trembled and clung onto Ludwig’s arm as if everyone around him would disappear if he did not hold fast. Even Francis, who remained completely calm throughout the grim affair, indulged himself in a little more wine than usual as soon as the coffin was borne away.
Only Arthur remained missing from the ceremony. Yao could not say how much the event affected him but, although he was up and walking by now, he continued to hole himself up in the manor, living his life either in the white room or in the much unused study of Alfred’s manor. His attitude remained cold and distant even to his fellow nations. He was never rude but always curt, giving no more than two or three word answers at best.
Alfred caught him sitting in the study, the lights set to a minimum, hunched over a thick tome of...something; the books in there were mostly for show and Alfred had no clue about the names of half the books in his own study.
Creeping in, he sidled towards Arthur who, as expected, paid him no mind.
“Hey Arthur! Want to...watch a movie or something?” he asked. It was a bad suggestion but he had no idea what else to say, he just wanted to do something, anything that would bring Arthur back to life even for just a second. He would even eat a million burnt scones for one, quick smile or a flustered blush.
Re: If you find me...[14a/28]
Alfred had no idea what to say. He tentatively reached out and tied to rub the blood from Arthur’s face but it only ended up smearing into a grizzly red stain.
“You used to be really kind, you know?”
He could hold himself back no longer. Alfred flung his arms around Arthur’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. If his back could shield all the bad things from touching Arthur, he would have gladly stayed like that forever. Briefly, he wondered if he was some sort of fool for clinging on to hope even now, like a desperate beggar he grabbed at whatever gleams of light flashed before his eyes.
“Arthur, I’m not – I’m not going to let you - ” he squeezed even tighter, hardly caring that Arthur was not hugging back or if Feliciano was looking at him, at how pathetic he had become. He was a hero and he would go to any lengths to save someone, to save Athur, even if – even if he had to become the villain in doing so. “I won’ t let you go the way you’re going. I’m not going to let you become like – like this!”
“They’re not going to leave me alone,” Arthur said; a cold statement of facts.
“We’ll get them! Every last one of them!” he cried.
Arthur stiffened. Though Alfred was unable to see his face, he could sense the sudden shift in demeanour. “...Yes, I suppose we’ll have to do that,” Arthur whispered, lightly touching the small of Alfred’s back.
XX
Despite tightening security, everyone was walking on eggshells the next morning. The remaining pirates had been transferred to a proper prison, leaving the manor even emptier. They held a funeral for Marianne. Alfred took it upon himself to notify her family, sending a bouquet of yellow roses with the condolence card.
That day, it did not even rain when they carried out the coffin. Marianne’s parents wanted her buried in Maine where she had grown up but they held their own service for her anyway. Kiku gave her some of his cranes and Feliciano made a chain of daisies; Alfred could see how he trembled and clung onto Ludwig’s arm as if everyone around him would disappear if he did not hold fast. Even Francis, who remained completely calm throughout the grim affair, indulged himself in a little more wine than usual as soon as the coffin was borne away.
Only Arthur remained missing from the ceremony. Yao could not say how much the event affected him but, although he was up and walking by now, he continued to hole himself up in the manor, living his life either in the white room or in the much unused study of Alfred’s manor. His attitude remained cold and distant even to his fellow nations. He was never rude but always curt, giving no more than two or three word answers at best.
Alfred caught him sitting in the study, the lights set to a minimum, hunched over a thick tome of...something; the books in there were mostly for show and Alfred had no clue about the names of half the books in his own study.
Creeping in, he sidled towards Arthur who, as expected, paid him no mind.
“Hey Arthur! Want to...watch a movie or something?” he asked. It was a bad suggestion but he had no idea what else to say, he just wanted to do something, anything that would bring Arthur back to life even for just a second. He would even eat a million burnt scones for one, quick smile or a flustered blush.