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blood_wingedTitle: I Promise.
Genre: General.
Word Count: 1190
Rating/Warnings: U, colonial!Alfred, injured!Arthur.
Summary: Young Alfred walks in on Arthur tending his wounds.
For as much of his life as he could fully remember, Alfred had always run to Arthur when he was hurt. When Arthur wasn’t there he would bite his lip and carry on, but when his caretaker was present, he would invariably seek him out for comfort.
Arthur had arrived that morning but Alfred hadn’t seen him yet. He’d been in meetings with the young nation’s leaders all day and Alfred knew that when he arrived back he would be tired and likely not up for talking and roughhousing until tomorrow. He tried his hardest to make it easier for the man – he cleaned as best he could, fed himself and even bathed, and put himself to bed long before he was roused by the sound of the front door opening. Alfred lay in bed and listened to the sound of Arthur setting his cane in the stand by the door, hanging up his hat and coat. He knew that the man would be loosening his tie and rolling his shoulders. He’d look tired, but he’d smile as soon as he saw Alfred, because he always did.
After a short while of waiting, Alfred slipped out of bed, curling his toes into the thick carpet and padding quietly towards the door, turning the handle slowly so it didn’t squeak and poking his head out into the darkened hallway. Momentarily, he cringed, retreating back to fetch the candle from beside his bed before he ventured out and down the stairs, the hem of his nightgown catching lightly on the steps as he made his way to the ground floor. He could see the faint, flickering orange light of the fire through the crack in the drawing room door, and he approached silently, touching his fingers to the wood and pushing the door open.
The English nation was there, sitting on a stool in front of the fire with his back to the door. There was a pot slung over the fire, and beside the man a pile of clean white strips of cloth. He had his shirt off, and Alfred almost gasped to see the slightly stained bandages wrapped around his chest and one of his upper arms. The boy bit his lip, shuffled, and clinked the edge of his candle against the door. He saw Arthur’s shoulders stiffen, straighten, and the man looked over his shoulder.
“You can come in, Alfred,” he said softly. “I promise that I will not scold you for being up far past your bedtime.”
“Sorry…” Alfred mumbled, but he blew out his candle and moved into the room, hesitating as Arthur moved to pull his shirt back on. “You do not-… Arthur, why are you hurt?”
Arthur smiled, though the expression was slightly pained, and he let the shirt drop, turning a little to look at the boy and holding one arm out to beckon him closer. Sitting by his feet, Alfred looked up with faintly widened eyes and reached up one small hand to touch one of the rust-red stains on the bandages. Though he didn’t so much as flinch, Arthur was quick to push the boy’s hand away and he shook his head, laying his own hand on top of Alfred’s head and gently ruffling his hair.
“I did not intend for you to see this,” he told him. “But I should have known that you would be waiting for me.”
“I have missed you,” was the quiet response, and Alfred rested his chin on Arthur’s knee. He heard the older nation sigh, and felt the light shifting of the fingers in his hair. “Arthur… What has happened to you?”
“Alfred…” Arthur shifted and took Alfred’s face in both hands, lifting his head and smoothing his thumbs over the boy’s cheeks. There was a fond smile on his face but somehow, Alfred didn’t find it reassuring as he would have any other time. “Alfred, there will, I am sad to say, come a time when you will understand… but now is not that time.” Alfred nodded silently, and Arthur smiled again, shifting to press a kiss to his forehead. “Good lad.”
The water over the fireplace was beginning to steam gently, and Arthur pulled it away from the blaze, giving Alfred a look before he began to unwrap the bandages. His arm didn’t look too badly damaged, bruised with a few scratches, but there was a long, deep cut scored across his side that Alfred couldn’t keep his eyes away from. Arthur reached for the water, but Alfred stopped him, getting to his feet and grabbing up the cloth set down beside the fresh bandages.
“You always take care of me, Arthur,” he said. “I am going to take care of you now.”
There was no answer, but the other man nodded once, and Alfred ignored the way the water burned his fingers as he dipped the cloth into it and wrung it out. Arthur moved from the stool to the couch and Alfred sat down, leaning forwards and dabbing the cloth along the wound as gently as he could. He let his hand rest on Arthur’s knee to brace himself and felt the tiny, shuddering tremors that ran through the older nation each time the cut was touched, but if he was in pain, it never once showed on his face as he kept his calm green gaze on the young boy.
When Alfred had cleaned the injury and was carefully tying the bandages into as small a knot as he could, his tongue sticking out between his teeth as he concentrated, he couldn’t be sure how much time had passed. He left Arthur’s arm unwrapped as he had been told to, and finally did what he had been wanting to do since he had walked in – he put his arms around the Englishman and hugged him.
“Can I sleep with you tonight?” he asked, his voice faintly muffled against the other’s shoulder. Again, Arthur didn’t answer, but he held tight to the youngster and ruffled his hair again, allowing his hand to be taken as he was led up to bed. Alfred didn’t need a candle to get back up the stairs – if Arthur was with him, he wasn’t afraid. He didn’t have to wait long for the man to fall asleep, though he couldn’t get the images of the injuries he’d seen out of his mind. Biting his lip, he looked over at the Great British Empire, noting how the lines of his face were softened by sleep and he seemed so much… smaller. He ran one fingertip gently over the green-blue bruising on his upper arm and frowned, troubled.
“One day…” he murmured quietly. “One day, you are not going to need to worry about any of this. You will never need to worry about being hurt again… because… because I am going to take care of you, Arthur.” He lay down, resting his forehead against Arthur’s shoulder and closing his eyes. “You will see. I am going to get much stronger. Stronger than France and Spain, and no one will ever hurt you like this again. I promise.”
Genre: General.
Word Count: 1190
Rating/Warnings: U, colonial!Alfred, injured!Arthur.
Summary: Young Alfred walks in on Arthur tending his wounds.
*****
For as much of his life as he could fully remember, Alfred had always run to Arthur when he was hurt. When Arthur wasn’t there he would bite his lip and carry on, but when his caretaker was present, he would invariably seek him out for comfort.
Arthur had arrived that morning but Alfred hadn’t seen him yet. He’d been in meetings with the young nation’s leaders all day and Alfred knew that when he arrived back he would be tired and likely not up for talking and roughhousing until tomorrow. He tried his hardest to make it easier for the man – he cleaned as best he could, fed himself and even bathed, and put himself to bed long before he was roused by the sound of the front door opening. Alfred lay in bed and listened to the sound of Arthur setting his cane in the stand by the door, hanging up his hat and coat. He knew that the man would be loosening his tie and rolling his shoulders. He’d look tired, but he’d smile as soon as he saw Alfred, because he always did.
After a short while of waiting, Alfred slipped out of bed, curling his toes into the thick carpet and padding quietly towards the door, turning the handle slowly so it didn’t squeak and poking his head out into the darkened hallway. Momentarily, he cringed, retreating back to fetch the candle from beside his bed before he ventured out and down the stairs, the hem of his nightgown catching lightly on the steps as he made his way to the ground floor. He could see the faint, flickering orange light of the fire through the crack in the drawing room door, and he approached silently, touching his fingers to the wood and pushing the door open.
The English nation was there, sitting on a stool in front of the fire with his back to the door. There was a pot slung over the fire, and beside the man a pile of clean white strips of cloth. He had his shirt off, and Alfred almost gasped to see the slightly stained bandages wrapped around his chest and one of his upper arms. The boy bit his lip, shuffled, and clinked the edge of his candle against the door. He saw Arthur’s shoulders stiffen, straighten, and the man looked over his shoulder.
“You can come in, Alfred,” he said softly. “I promise that I will not scold you for being up far past your bedtime.”
“Sorry…” Alfred mumbled, but he blew out his candle and moved into the room, hesitating as Arthur moved to pull his shirt back on. “You do not-… Arthur, why are you hurt?”
Arthur smiled, though the expression was slightly pained, and he let the shirt drop, turning a little to look at the boy and holding one arm out to beckon him closer. Sitting by his feet, Alfred looked up with faintly widened eyes and reached up one small hand to touch one of the rust-red stains on the bandages. Though he didn’t so much as flinch, Arthur was quick to push the boy’s hand away and he shook his head, laying his own hand on top of Alfred’s head and gently ruffling his hair.
“I did not intend for you to see this,” he told him. “But I should have known that you would be waiting for me.”
“I have missed you,” was the quiet response, and Alfred rested his chin on Arthur’s knee. He heard the older nation sigh, and felt the light shifting of the fingers in his hair. “Arthur… What has happened to you?”
“Alfred…” Arthur shifted and took Alfred’s face in both hands, lifting his head and smoothing his thumbs over the boy’s cheeks. There was a fond smile on his face but somehow, Alfred didn’t find it reassuring as he would have any other time. “Alfred, there will, I am sad to say, come a time when you will understand… but now is not that time.” Alfred nodded silently, and Arthur smiled again, shifting to press a kiss to his forehead. “Good lad.”
The water over the fireplace was beginning to steam gently, and Arthur pulled it away from the blaze, giving Alfred a look before he began to unwrap the bandages. His arm didn’t look too badly damaged, bruised with a few scratches, but there was a long, deep cut scored across his side that Alfred couldn’t keep his eyes away from. Arthur reached for the water, but Alfred stopped him, getting to his feet and grabbing up the cloth set down beside the fresh bandages.
“You always take care of me, Arthur,” he said. “I am going to take care of you now.”
There was no answer, but the other man nodded once, and Alfred ignored the way the water burned his fingers as he dipped the cloth into it and wrung it out. Arthur moved from the stool to the couch and Alfred sat down, leaning forwards and dabbing the cloth along the wound as gently as he could. He let his hand rest on Arthur’s knee to brace himself and felt the tiny, shuddering tremors that ran through the older nation each time the cut was touched, but if he was in pain, it never once showed on his face as he kept his calm green gaze on the young boy.
When Alfred had cleaned the injury and was carefully tying the bandages into as small a knot as he could, his tongue sticking out between his teeth as he concentrated, he couldn’t be sure how much time had passed. He left Arthur’s arm unwrapped as he had been told to, and finally did what he had been wanting to do since he had walked in – he put his arms around the Englishman and hugged him.
“Can I sleep with you tonight?” he asked, his voice faintly muffled against the other’s shoulder. Again, Arthur didn’t answer, but he held tight to the youngster and ruffled his hair again, allowing his hand to be taken as he was led up to bed. Alfred didn’t need a candle to get back up the stairs – if Arthur was with him, he wasn’t afraid. He didn’t have to wait long for the man to fall asleep, though he couldn’t get the images of the injuries he’d seen out of his mind. Biting his lip, he looked over at the Great British Empire, noting how the lines of his face were softened by sleep and he seemed so much… smaller. He ran one fingertip gently over the green-blue bruising on his upper arm and frowned, troubled.
“One day…” he murmured quietly. “One day, you are not going to need to worry about any of this. You will never need to worry about being hurt again… because… because I am going to take care of you, Arthur.” He lay down, resting his forehead against Arthur’s shoulder and closing his eyes. “You will see. I am going to get much stronger. Stronger than France and Spain, and no one will ever hurt you like this again. I promise.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-02 06:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-02 06:41 pm (UTC)*snuggles*
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-02 07:50 pm (UTC)I LOVE the idea of little Alfred taking care of Arthur and showing such concern for him. I like how gentle was the interaction between them. So, so sweet!♥
Also, you're a pretty fast writer; I'm amazed ^^
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-02 07:58 pm (UTC)And yes. Yes I am xD
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-02 11:59 pm (UTC)...Well, you did keep the promise after a long while, I suppose.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-03 08:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-03 12:31 am (UTC)I really like how Alfred's so reproachful and obviously doesn't know what he's doing, and that he's aware of his own ineptitude, but vows to become stronger so that he can be of more help.
This was very sweet. Good work!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-03 08:26 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-03 01:59 am (UTC)Really well-written! :)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-03 08:26 am (UTC)Thanks~ :3
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-05 09:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-05 09:12 pm (UTC)