Alfred knew that going through civil war hurt. He could not quite remember his own civil wars; his memories in that department were cloudy at best and he had probably been delirious and half-crazed throughout it, but he knew that it was a painful time.
At first when Alfred watched him it only seemed as if Arthur were experiencing a bad dream; a very bad, horrific dream. However, when Yao’s medicine wore off and Arthur awoke, though not fully conscious, Alfred could fully appreciate the horrors of civil war.
He was glad that they had tied him down. Arthur could struggle as much as he like, the skin breaking and bleeding against the rope, he could curse Alfred and swear and spout as much angry babble as he wanted but he could never get his hands on anything dangerous.
Feeding Arthur in that deranged, paranoid state had been a frightening experience. Sometimes he was fierce and would not let anyone touch him, sometimes he was silent but paranoid, and sometimes he would be seductive, licking his lips, displaying his sweat-stained body, offering a fuck in return for freedom.
‘Hey,’ Arthur would whisper. ‘You’ve got me tied up here. Why don’t you take me? I wouldn’t be able to stop you. Come on, take me, you fucking Royalist; show your love for the country.’
At times Alfred wanted to punch every person he saw; Royalist or Civil. He wanted to yell, ‘Stop it! Stop it, can’t you see that it’s hurting him?’ There were even times when he wished everyone would just disappear in a mushroom cloud but he was not enough of a hypocrite to become the very thing he had tried to save Arthur from becoming.
He begged Yao to give Arthur another dose, would have gotten on his hands and knees even, but Yao insisted that another dose so soon would be harmful.
‘Wait three or four years aru, and if he doesn’t calm down by then I’ll give him another dose. I promise, aru,’ he had said.
The war raged on for another two years. Alfred was sure that, if it did not kill Arthur, it would surely kill him to watch its effects on Arthur’s mind.
However, just when they were ready to give Arthur another dose, the unthinkable occurred. The queen was assassinated by her own son.
After the initial surge of violence this brought about, things quickly calmed down. The government regained control and ruled that the Prince would not be tried for treason but would ascend the throne as King though with limited powers.
Unrest and bitter feelings continued to bubble – who would serve a king usurped the throne? It would be better to completely scrap the monarchy so this could never happen again – yet those feelings simmered down when it became apparent that repairing the damage both sides had done was a priority. They had made too many holes in this ship and would both sink together unless something was done.
The feeling waned into something that could tentatively be called peace.
XX
Arthur was only partially aware of what he had done during the war. He had been awake and yet delirious, thinking back on it was like looking at shadow puppets on the wall; watching and yet strangely apart from everything that was happening.
He had vague notions of what he had done but it all seemed as if it were just a bad nightmare. The things he said, the things he did or tried to do were too horrible for him to think otherwise.
Light fell on his face when Arthur sluggishly opened his eyes. It felt like the first light he had seen in centuries. His first thought was; warm, until he was finally able to perform more complex thought.
It was peaceful. The room smelt of spring; cut grass and flowers and sunlight. Was light usually this bright? The sun felt so good against his skin that he did not want to move but, shifting his head slightly, he looked down and realised that he had been untied; there were bandages around his wrist and ankles but the rope was gone.
“A – Alfred?” he tested his voice. It came out smooth.
Two warm hands clasped his own. Through his swimming vision, he managed to make out Alfred’s face leaning over him. He blinked several times to clear his vision, focusing on Alfred’s smile.
Re: If you find me...[28a/28]
Alfred knew that going through civil war hurt. He could not quite remember his own civil wars; his memories in that department were cloudy at best and he had probably been delirious and half-crazed throughout it, but he knew that it was a painful time.
At first when Alfred watched him it only seemed as if Arthur were experiencing a bad dream; a very bad, horrific dream. However, when Yao’s medicine wore off and Arthur awoke, though not fully conscious, Alfred could fully appreciate the horrors of civil war.
He was glad that they had tied him down. Arthur could struggle as much as he like, the skin breaking and bleeding against the rope, he could curse Alfred and swear and spout as much angry babble as he wanted but he could never get his hands on anything dangerous.
Feeding Arthur in that deranged, paranoid state had been a frightening experience. Sometimes he was fierce and would not let anyone touch him, sometimes he was silent but paranoid, and sometimes he would be seductive, licking his lips, displaying his sweat-stained body, offering a fuck in return for freedom.
‘Hey,’ Arthur would whisper. ‘You’ve got me tied up here. Why don’t you take me? I wouldn’t be able to stop you. Come on, take me, you fucking Royalist; show your love for the country.’
At times Alfred wanted to punch every person he saw; Royalist or Civil. He wanted to yell, ‘Stop it! Stop it, can’t you see that it’s hurting him?’ There were even times when he wished everyone would just disappear in a mushroom cloud but he was not enough of a hypocrite to become the very thing he had tried to save Arthur from becoming.
He begged Yao to give Arthur another dose, would have gotten on his hands and knees even, but Yao insisted that another dose so soon would be harmful.
‘Wait three or four years aru, and if he doesn’t calm down by then I’ll give him another dose. I promise, aru,’ he had said.
The war raged on for another two years. Alfred was sure that, if it did not kill Arthur, it would surely kill him to watch its effects on Arthur’s mind.
However, just when they were ready to give Arthur another dose, the unthinkable occurred. The queen was assassinated by her own son.
After the initial surge of violence this brought about, things quickly calmed down. The government regained control and ruled that the Prince would not be tried for treason but would ascend the throne as King though with limited powers.
Unrest and bitter feelings continued to bubble – who would serve a king usurped the throne? It would be better to completely scrap the monarchy so this could never happen again – yet those feelings simmered down when it became apparent that repairing the damage both sides had done was a priority. They had made too many holes in this ship and would both sink together unless something was done.
The feeling waned into something that could tentatively be called peace.
XX
Arthur was only partially aware of what he had done during the war. He had been awake and yet delirious, thinking back on it was like looking at shadow puppets on the wall; watching and yet strangely apart from everything that was happening.
He had vague notions of what he had done but it all seemed as if it were just a bad nightmare. The things he said, the things he did or tried to do were too horrible for him to think otherwise.
Light fell on his face when Arthur sluggishly opened his eyes. It felt like the first light he had seen in centuries. His first thought was; warm, until he was finally able to perform more complex thought.
It was peaceful. The room smelt of spring; cut grass and flowers and sunlight. Was light usually this bright? The sun felt so good against his skin that he did not want to move but, shifting his head slightly, he looked down and realised that he had been untied; there were bandages around his wrist and ankles but the rope was gone.
“A – Alfred?” he tested his voice. It came out smooth.
Two warm hands clasped his own. Through his swimming vision, he managed to make out Alfred’s face leaning over him. He blinked several times to clear his vision, focusing on Alfred’s smile.