|Britain Taming the Wild
Author: BlackWolf2Dragoon PM
The British Empire has full control of Canada and much of America. The Lakota grow desperate and try a plan of attack, only to lose its most faithful to the hands of the British. USUK, Yaoi, AU, One-shot. Dedicated to wolfxdog.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Western - America & England/Britain - Words: 7,315 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 10 - Follows: 1 - Published: 04-19-11 - Status: Complete - id: 6918717
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Oh wow, so here, this is my first Hetalia fic and... hm, I feel like I've completely failed the community and uploaded a load of crap xD I'M SO SORRY. I feel like a dumbass for just making all this in less than forty eight hours, yes FORTY EIGHT HOURS. How could I do that! Disgrace!
Well anyhow, my knowledge on America before it became the states is very limited, so I used wikipedia a lot for this, and even wikipedia didn't know everything. IT'S MEANT TO KNOW EVERYTHING! WHY DOESN'T IT KNOW EVERYTHING? *freak* Anyhow, so this is based a lot on a film I watched... which I don't even remember the name of right now. ANOTHER DISGRACE. You could say I stole a bit from Spirit Stallion of the Cimmaron (is that how it's spelt? Cimarron or Cimmaron? Who cares?) with the whole Lakota tribe, but really that's the most famous tribe in America, or was anyway if it doesn't exist anymore. I'M SORRY AMERICANS IF MY GEOGRAPHY OR KNOWLEDGE SUCKS, BUT I DON'T REALLY STUDY AMERICA BECAUSE... why would I? LOLOL It's the same as you lot not studying Europe, let's say for arguments sake for those who don't study Europe, so you understand.
This is not meant to be racist to the British or Americans in any way, this is just to fit in with the period because this is what was believed at the time. So those who go all "OMFG U RACIST BASTERD" go away lest I release my Arthur power of ranting on you. Oh yes, Arthur and Alfred are more likely to be OOC, Alfred most likely because NOBODY TALKED LIKE THAT THOSE DAYS. DUDE DIDN'T EVEN EXIST THEN.
My first time in writing serious graphical yaoi... wow, I need to stop writing it, like right now before I cause nose bleeds. I get enough of those xD So yeah if the summary wasn't a clue enough for you blind gits, YAOI, BOYXBOY, GAY STUFF, MANO O MANO HOMOSEX GALORE. Then again, what are you doing here at the Hetalia section? It is technically yaoi anyway!
This was made so quickly because IT'S ONE OF MY GOOD FRIEND'S BIRTHDAY TODA- TOMORROW ACTUALLY. 20th April is her birthday, sweet! So give a happy birthday to wolfxdog, whom I call MEGAN in a loud whiny voice most of the time. Happy birthday, dude! Ya'll better like this or I'm just going to drown in a bucket of water. LOLOL This is for you~!
Update 2nd September 2012 - Due the fanfiction guidelines, the sex scene has been deleted. However, once AO3 allows me into its ranks FINALLY, it shall be posted there with the sex scene attached. This should happen by the end of November 2012, but definitely before Christmas! Check my profile for the link towards AO3 for when it becomes available!
Britain Taming the Wild
Overlooking the plains, the wild mustangs were worried. Though it all looked normal, the eagles flew in the air as normal, the bison grazed nearby to be ready for their migration and there was no sign of any predators of any kind, pumas were the most stealthy of them all, but there wasn't any sign around of any hiding in the bushes. It was something else, something bigger.
The lead mustang of the group looked up; he always trusted his instincts and his instincts told him that something was coming. He wasn't sure what. Sniffing the air, he quickly grew alarmed. Humans, many humans' scent was in the air. They were the biggest danger to the mustangs; they kidnapped members of their herd and used them against the herd and nature itself. Taking quick action, the mustang called out to his herd, letting them know of the danger. The herd didn't hesitate, didn't question the wisdom of their leader.
With quickness unknown to any man, they galloped off to the hills and ne'er returned as the British took the land, burning it of their unmatched beauty.
What land remained were usually on the far West, away from the British Empire that quickly tore through the Eastern coast and it's lands, just for gold, diamonds and riches for their growing empire. The usual tribes of humans, like the Lakota, had to move quickly Westerly to avoid the quickly growing burn of Britain. Strangely enough, the British never followed, mayhaps the desert had prevented them from progressing further as they changed direction to the north, the land of snow where moose and deer reside and the perils of wolves and, worst of all, bears.
But that's not where the interesting part happens; the core of the British Empire's work on America was further south in the wild lands on the Eastern side, not quite near the sea. The base was relatively close to remaining tribe groups' previous homes and villages, should they be called villages, and too close to the desert for comfort. The Lakota tribe had taken refuge in the desert to escape the quickly growing British, but they were slowed down when they ran into… something.
"What do you suppose it is?"
"It's a white man! One of those taking our homes and burning our villages!"
"He doesn't look it; he's wearing clothes like the north does." None of the Lakota tribe knew what to do with him, the poor nameless boy. He was wondering around in the desert, delirious and seriously dehydrating, it wouldn't shock the tribe if the boy had thought he'd seen an oasis. The boy looked to be sixteen moons of age, though he was really tall, they could tell by his face, it hadn't quite grown of age, though it was really close.
"I see him as a Northerner, not an Easterner." The elder of the tribe stated, what his word said was the word of the tribe. Nobody argued with the elder.
Well, almost nobody. "Elder, we can't take that risk; he could be an Easterner and then what? He could turn on us! It was their fault the mustangs ran away!"
The elder shook his head. "Nay, his spirit tells me he is pure of heart, he will not betray us. He could be useful. We must help him."
The elder's word wasn't argued with after that, the nameless boy was taken care of, fed and watered. As he grew, he became one with the Lakota tribe, regardless of his skin colour or his language, which was confirmed to be from the north. When the tribe asked how he got this far south, he explained to them how the Easterners had raided their village, burned down their buildings and raped their women. He was one of the only lucky ones to escape before they found him, as they rode without warning on horseback loaded with rifles and pistols, merciless in their conquering of America and Canada. The whole of Canada was in peril as it was taken one piece of land at a time. The British were unstoppable, and soon it would fall upon itself from the inside for its gluttonous ways. Those words rang true, but it wouldn't be for many years until America and Canada finally broke from Britain's choking hold.
Inside its base of operations, one man was just as unhappy about the situation. Strangely, this man was British himself, but he wasn't as blinded by the prospect of power as the other Britons were. He knew what happened to those who grew to powerful. Holy Roman Empire, Spain, France, Germany and all others who dared tried all fell in the end as the power became too much for them, eventually the country imploded on itself and the next leader was left with the mess the last left for them to clean up.
This man, Colonel Arthur Kirkland, working with the British Empire and keeping his men working, per orders of his General, looked on at what used to be pure wilderness, now being ravaged by his country's hands. And he couldn't do a thing about it.
"Kirkland!" The order of his General couldn't go ignored. Arthur turned to his officer, saluting to attention.
The General nodded in approval, glad his soldier was as sharp as he ever had been. Kirkland had been useful, a good dog. "We've been catching sights of shadows recently, care to elaborate?"
Ah. Arthur had heard the reports from night-watch. They had said in their report that shadows had been lurking around the outside perimeter, but never getting close enough to really define. They couldn't very well shoot, messengers from Canada came by often, it would be disastrous if it were a messenger. But then, why didn't he approach? There was no reason to delay, was there? So far, Kirkland's patrol hadn't found anything, no tribes, no Lakota and no wolves or coyotes from the desert, not even pumas or mustangs. Bison were in places, they were good for sport, which was lacking recently for his men, but nothing else. Bison were too big and clumsy to spy, they didn't even have the knowledge to spy, so what was?
"My men have reported that the shadows were too far away to identify, sir." Arthur lowered his hand, no longer needing to salute, his General was happy enough.
"Really now?" the General brought a hand to his chin in a thoughtful expression. "Double the security, Kirkland, my guts tell me these shadows are not a coincidence.
Arthur was confused. "Sir?" He asked for the General to elaborate.
"Just do it, Kirkland, no questions!" Having been snapped at, Arthur wasted no time in saluting with a sharp "sir!" and doing as he was told. What the General said made sense, but surely, he couldn't be expecting an attack from a tribe. All traces that they had been there had been destroyed by the time they got there and not a single tribe member had been caught or seen since. There were only traces, they'd already left. But Arthur couldn't go against the General's orders, he had to follow through.
Heading to the stables, he got to his horse, Mable, a brown and white mare, stroking her neck slowly. Mable snorted, but she was pleased, her master Kirkland was kind to her and she didn't mind his weight, Arthur was surprisingly light, then again he was short. Stroking her nose, Arthur then had to turn to saddle her, ready to go. He needed to make an impression on his men, after all, and it was about time he rode Mable in the wilderness for a while. The shadows were only there at night; in the morning there was nothing to worry about. He will take his rifle as a precaution anyway.
"Men, stand attention!" the men under Kirkland's command stood and saluted, ready for action. "It has come to my attention that there have been sightings of shadows in the area." Whilst Arthur was talking, he had Mable walk back and forth in front of the line of soldiers, making sure they stood where they were and not attempt to run away or sneak anything, though that was unlikely. These men were proud.
"The General has ordered for a tight up on security at night, he believes that these shadows could be what we have been on the lookout for all this time. A tribe, namely, the Lakota tribe." There were slight murmurs in the group, but nothing that lasted long. "We have reason to believe that they are hostile towards anyone that looks British, so be on guard, the General believes that they may very well try to steal food and water, since they appear to be coming from the West, as well all know, is covered in nothing but desert. So, gentlemen, the orders are; double the security at night, everyone keep a gun and a torch with you! Dismissed!" The men dispersed, leaving Arthur, once again, alone with his thoughts.
A stroll was good; Arthur liked them despite the heat. The land was a beautiful place, places where the British hadn't touched were green and the wild bison were plentiful. Arthur kept Mable a distance from them, just to be safe. So far on his patrol, he hadn't spotted a single sign of any Lakota or anything other than British action and horse prints. Mayhaps the General was worrying about naught. But Arthur wasn't certain, his gut told him something different, and he wasn't one to ignore his gut.
Ten o'clock! His mind shouted suddenly and he turned quickly enough to catch a dark skinned human throw a spear in his direction. Taking action, he quickly turned Mable to avoid the spear, just barely so. He brought his small hand gun out quickly to defend himself, only to see the wild man had disappeared. But how!? There was nothing but grassland all around, bison and a lake and-
The lake. Glaring at the lake, the Briton looked on, remaining on horseback for fear he would be ambushed further and cornered. He should run back, tell HQ and prepare properly, but he was Arthur Kirkland! He didn't run from a fight, he wasn't cowardly; he was a man, a respectable British citizen!
However, looking around, Arthur couldn't see anything. His instincts told him the lake, but there was no way he could take the chance without being seriously injured, then be brutally murdered by his CO. Glaring at the lake for another two minutes, Arthur felt the need to retreat back to HQ as quickly and silently as possible, lest he be set upon by more Lakota.
He wasn't even sure if it was a Lakota, but the man was dark skinned and wore feathers in his hair, he looked like a right wanker dressed like that with just little covering compared to his red military suit with badges of a Colonel. There were chances that it was a Lakota, but a lone Lakota? That didn't make sense.
That becoming a growing realisation, Arthur took the chance to head back to HQ, having Mabel trotting as he did so.
He made it safely back without further incident, so didn't find it necessary to report in the incident. He wasn't even sure if the man was a Lakota, so felt no need to report something he wasn't even sure about. He didn't realise until it was too late how much of a mistake that was.
It was unfortunate that one of their people got spotted by an Easterner patrol, but it didn't dampen their thoughts of possibly finally being rid of the infection of the Eastern plague that corrupted the land, because of them their spirits had gone into hiding! They had to free the spirits of the West from the choke hold that was the East.
It had been North's idea; he couldn't stand the land being in the choke hold for much longer. Plus, he always had this fantasy of being chief of the tribe one day, to protect what he deemed important to him, he always had that ambition.
So, for several nights, and sometimes days, they scouted around the area of HQ, memorizing the area and the security and entry to the place. But their actions must've spooked the Easterners, because that one night for their plan of attack, there was an increase number of Easterners patrolling that night. North had cursed them for that, too, but he didn't let it get him down. He worked hard to become chief of the tribe, had to proof himself worthy of becoming it, and the Lakota had accepted him, despite not being like the others. They didn't mind and he brought them nothing but kindness and helped their survival. There were extra mustangs in their group as they finally managed to catch up to some and train them well. Tonight was the best night to attack, whilst they were at their peak and remembered the place as well as they had.
North had decided to go first; leaving his mustang behind but there ready for a quick exit should things go wrong. Keeping to the shadows, the young Lakota sneakily made his way towards the building that seemed the biggest with only a single knife. Whilst North hated to have to kill people, it was necessary for the spirits of the West. It took just the quick slash of the neck; they didn't even feel a thing… or much, anyway. Besides, these were Easterners, they were parasites, they needed to be killed. It was made harder when these Easterners had some kind of light for helping them see in the dark, but North had grown used to seeing in the dark having spent time with the Lakota tribe.
With a new determination, North made his way slowly towards the building, which strangely had a light on inside. Someone inside was still awake at this time? No moon could be seen tonight, as it hadn't for a few days, but what reason did this Easterner have for staying up?
As North crept closer, he could just about make out what the Easterner was saying, it seemed like he was talking on a long distance calling device of some sort, like how his tribe cupped their hands to echo their voice further. The years of Easterner's remaining in America gave North the advantage of learning their language, though it was somewhat difficult if they decided to speak quickly.
"When is this shipment meant to arrive? Tomorrow? That would be am, would it not?" This Easterner seemed stressed and rather young compared to some of the others, twenty eight moons, mayhaps. The Easterner was wearing red like most of the other soldiers had, but he had extra badges, North figured it was how they knew who was in charge. This Easterner was unarmed as well, but his gun wasn't too far away. If North burst in, it would be too late for this Easterner to grab his gun and shoot.
"It has to make it before then! We've had reports about shadows around the perimeter, we can't risk our security being preoccupied by… I don't care! We can't risk being compromised." There was silence for a few moments as the white man listened to the phone before he snapped. "If it's that difficult then slow down! Just arrive at an am time where the sun is shining or the General will have my arse and probably all yours too! We could be attacked by the Lakota at any time! Just do it, captain!" The Easterner slammed the phone down onto the receiver before he sat down and began to write furiously.
North cursed in his head, the white man was too far away for him to try to attack, plus breaking through the glass would create too much noise, there had to be another way. Looking up, North caught sight of a chimney, and looking through the window confirmed that the fire was currently unlit. Excellent.
With determination, North ran around the side of the building and began to climb using any lose logs he could or bricks, his rock-climbing was better than any other Lakota, probably because he was a Northerner where rock-climbing is needed. It didn't take too long and nobody seemed to notice him climbing, nor expected him to. Though when he looked down the chimney, he had second thoughts, it looked quite far down, but it was the only way. Slowly, he lowered himself down the chimney, should he have known the stories that the Easterner's made up of a fat man wearing red and carrying a huge rucksack climbing down the chimney every December 25th, he might've laughed. Then again, he'd laugh at the idea of any fat man coming down a chimney, it was simply too thin for anyone other than an athlete like North to get down.
North managed to get down without causing any noise, the Easterner was still furiously writing. For a moment, North had to wonder why the white man had his back towards the chimney and his desk facing away from it when anyone could get down the chimney if they really tried and attack him. It only lasted a second, not long enough for that poor man to realise something was really wrong that night. Quick as a flash, North grabbed the man by the chest, pinning the Easterner's arms to his chest and the knife went for the throat.
"What in the name-!?" That was all the Easterner could get out before North silenced him. But, for some inexplicable reason, North didn't kill the soldier. Mayhaps its rank, or how its eyebrows looked like rags, but nevertheless, North never killed this white man. Instead, he tried, in his best English to talk, demand, from the man.
"You, leader here, yes?" North prodded the knife closer to the white man's throat for further emphasis on the time he had left and what would happen should the man make a wrong move.
Shockingly, the man shook his head. "No, second in command, General isn't here today." Then, to North's shock, the man was smirking. "He was right, you were coming today, smart man, hid away before you came, you're too late."
Damnit. The Easterners were too clever for their own good. "Tell me where he is."
To North's surprise, the man shook his head. "Over my dead body." That's when North made his first mistake. Distracted, the white man brought a knee up, hitting North in a vulnerable place and leaving the man free to run and grab his gun. To North's luck, he had recovered before the man had grabbed his gun and ran towards the window, crashing through. By that time, his people of the tribe had already taken care of most of the men outside, though the night-watch above had spotted the chaos below and were firing towards his people at will with no mercy. Calling out in his own language, he told his own people to retreat, there was no way the eagles nor the spirit of the West could help them now, it was too early and too late at night, too far from home.
"Fire at will, men! For Queen and country!" The second in command had just made it through the door of his office, spotting North about ready to run. He aimed carefully with his rifle, letting the bullet fly and hitting the Lakota in the leg, nowhere fatal but certainly enough to prevent him from running away.
North went down with a cry, unable to prevent the fall. He knew he should've killed that man whilst he had the chance! Looking up at his people, he urged them with an Indian call to run, forget about him, it was too late. Though hesitant, they listened to their chief and got upon horseback, making for the hills and away.
"Night-watch, send a couple to catch up with them if you can, hurry!" The second in command ordered and a couple of the men already on horseback reared up, giving chase though it was obviously a lost hope to catch up. Nevertheless, there was no harm in trying, so long they were careful.
North looked up, he hadn't wanted to, but he had to see the man that had bested him for the first time. The man had ash blond hair, lighter than his own with piercing dark green eyes, not quite emerald. North had never seen eyes quite like that, it was strangely alluring, or would've been should the man had been of the West and not East. Where he lived made all the difference to those eyes, the mouth and North was already aware of his chest, this white man had muscles worthy of his attention. It was so unfair that the men just had to be from the East, destined to be taken down eventually by the spirit of the West.
"What have we here? You're certainly not a Lakota." The white man commented, whilst a group of lower ranked men circled to prevent him from escaping, not like he could anyway. "What do you think, gentlemen?"
One next to the second in command clicked his fingers, as if he just figured out a difficult puzzle. "He looks like those men from the north, the Canadians."
"A Canadian, you say? Then what is he doing all the way down here?"
The man shrugged. "I'm not sure, Colonel, reports that came back said that most of the villages to the north had been dealt with and either taken for slavery or put down." The way he said put down made it seem like they were dealing with wild animals, not humans, their own flesh and blood. North snarled, how dare they! With his last ounce of real strength, he threw his knife towards the second in command, but the white man was quicker, shifting his gun in the path of the knife, stopping it in its tracks but also damaging the rifle beyond repair. The other men moved quickly to restrain the Lakota and empty his pockets of everything he had, matches from another camp but certainly from a Briton, another smaller knife and a British container of water.
"That wasn't very nice." Tossing his rifle aside, the white man slapped North across the face in retaliation. It hadn't hurt much, but it had certainly startled North enough to not fight against the men that were suddenly dragging him away towards a jail cell. North was left there for the rest of the night to wallow in his failure. How was his tribe able to survive now, without its chief and a recently deceased elder? North allowed him that time to cry silently, since nobody was watching. He'd already heard the men tell him that the Colonel would be expecting him in the morning and to use the time he had now to sleep. At least they were humane about it, though they left his leg bleeding, also saying they'll get the doctor tomorrow for it. He supposed they could've killed him, but they might've been kinder in putting him down. He was like a caged bird, begging to be free, but can't. Now he knew how the mustangs felt sometimes, those poor creatures.
"And you didn't report this!?"
"Sir! With all due respects, I wasn't sure if it was a Lakota, there was no need to report something I wasn't sure about!"
"Wasn't sure about bollocks!" Arthur Kirkland wasn't having the best of mornings. After they had put the Lakota away, Arthur had gone to ask for the General's presence to discuss the Lakota and he had explained what had happened. When the General arrived the next morning, he let it slip about earlier that afternoon, about him almost being kebab'd by a spear by something he thought was a Lakota, but couldn't confirm if it was. His General wasn't happy. "Even if you thought it was a squirrel out there throwing nuts at you, you report whatever is suspicious no matter what! We have lost good men because of your ignorance!"
Arthur wasn't about to take that. "Sir, I protest! I took your orders like you told me to, I doubled the security at night as instructed and it wasn't in vain, we caught a Lakota!"
"Silence, Kirkland!" Arthur shut up quickly, not wanting to outrage his CO any further. "What of those two you sent after the group? What did they get?"
Arthur sighed, "Not much, they said by the time they reached the edge of the desert they were already too far gone, their footprints had been blown away."
The General huffed before he slammed a folder down at his subordinate. "I'm disappointed in you, Kirkland. As punishment for your lack of informing, you will take care of the Lakota, show him the ropes and break him."
Arthur's eyes widened, "But sir-!"
"No arguments, Colonel! You brought this upon yourself, Arthur, deal with the consequences, now hop to it!" With a stiff salute, Arthur turned on his way to the Lakota. He wasn't happy about this, not happy at all. He was a Colonel, this was a job for a Lieutenant, but he couldn't very well ask a member of his staff to just take over for him, his General will find out if he tried that. Besides, he had very little else to do. Maybe it was better this way, Arthur hated hurting people unless it was necessary, so the Lakota got lucky and had a more or less sensible man to look after him and help him out. Arthur knew what the General wanted from the Lakota; he was going to turn him just like them, Christians and working for the good of their Queen and country. Their ways were different though, why should they force them to become like Britons if they weren't? It wasn't so bad being British, true but it was clear they didn't want anything to do with "the east" as they seemed to call the British.
Arriving to the cell, the Lakota was wide awake and alert, despite it being 8am at least. How early did these wild men wake up to be fully alert at this ungodly hour? The Lakota glared at Arthur, certainly not wanting him to be in his presence, not surprising since Arthur had caused that wound to the leg. It looked better, treated, ah, so the doctors had already checked on him and made sure he was good to go.
"I'm not happy about seeing you as you are of me, I should have you know." Arthur sighed, adjusting his hat though he was never happy about the thing, due to the General being present; he was forced to wearing it. He took it off and put it beside a chair that he now took a seat in. The Lakota looked at him from the other side of the bars, his hands were still tied with rope and yet he still looked as defiant as he had when he was fighting off the English. Arthur had to smile at that, at least the kid hadn't lost his spirit, that's one thing, but it saddened Kirkland that he was put in charge of breaking it. How could he, when it burned so furiously, so deep not even Hades would be able to reach it and take it in his palm?
"So, the General has informed me that I'm to take care of you personally." The Lakota didn't react to that at all. Strange. "So, what should I call you?" Again, the Lakota refused to speak, only glaring at the soldier. "Fine, I shall call you Alfred." Whilst he didn't seem keen, the Lakota didn't protest, so Arthur took that as a good sign. "So, Alfred, do you think you could stand up if I let you?"
The Lakota looked down at his leg, though it didn't hurt as much as before, he wasn't sure it was wise to stand. The doctor told him not to, leave it to rest for a few days in a bandage and it would heal fine without further problems. "That… kind man wearing white… he said not to for a few suns."
Arthur blinked, taking a while to understand the meaning of suns, but it dawned on him slowly. "Oh the doctor, alright then. A doctor's word is stronger than a Generals'." Arthur smiled, whilst Alfred seemed to lower his head, though he was relieved he didn't have to walk around on a leg that felt it'd collapse if he tried. Arthur wasn't keen on silence, he was ordered to take care of the Lakota, but what could he do? He wasn't trained for this sort of thing, he hated anybody stupid, though he liked teaching so long they weren't idiots. He joined to help his country. What could he do?
"So…" Really, Kirkland didn't have a clue. "Alfred, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?" He wasn't sure where that came from, but it sure would pass the time, if only Alfred as compliant to do so. "Alright, I'll tell you about myself." So he did. Told him about his brothers, Andrew Macleod, Dafydd Tomos and Sean O' Thompson back in Britain with their own jobs, whilst he himself decided to go abroad to help his country. It had been his ambition, after all, but now he wasn't so sure. He told Alfred all the times his brothers liked to undermine him and make him feel useless, he was the black sheep of the family and he didn't like that. To change for the better, he joined the British Empire and left for America, hoping to make a difference and be able to come home to his brothers so he could say "I told you so!" It wasn't so. He didn't like what he was doing, but he couldn't do a thing about it, should he try, he'd be court martialed without trial and his family would be told he was killed in a horrific accident of sorts. Alfred might've said it wasn't fair, but truth was, life never was about fairness.
Alfred told Arthur about how he came to be this far South, but only on the promise that Arthur wouldn't tell anybody else. He promised, and Alfred told him it was because he escaped from being captured when he was fifteen or sixteen, he couldn't remember what age he was at the time, but he knew that he was twenty now. The Lakota tribe had found him and taken care of him, raising him as if he were one of their own, in return, he helped them to escape the clutches of the British Empire. He failed to tell Arthur he was chief of that tribe, it was too personal and he needn't put his tribe in danger like that. Arthur wasn't a bad white man, which shocked him, he thought all white men were bad, but Arthur wasn't like that. He was a bit grumpy, but he really cared despite how he seemed to act.
Over the course of the weeks and months they spent together, Arthur showing Alfred around on how things worked around where they were, the differences showed. The white men prayed to a person they called God, which was similar to Alfred's spirit of the West only homosexuality was sinful. Strange, homosexuality was used to help men prepare for their women for the first time for the Lakota tribe. Alfred told Arthur that, he seemed to understand, accept it even, that's when Alfred learnt that hidden truth, of course he told nobody. There wasn't anyone to tell, so he kept quiet.
Arthur told him that the General was expecting him to wear their uniform and to take "those silly feathers out of your hair," and shower every few days. Alfred didn't like the uniform, but he couldn't argue with the General, unless he wanted a stick up his arse, which he did not. He did as told, just for Arthur.
Alfred was rather close to Arthur, and grew closer as the months rolled by. No new sightings of the Lakota tribe and Alfred fitted right into the British Empire, which shocked everyone, including Arthur. If only they knew.
But Alfred got a little too close to Arthur than he should be. Had he been paying attention, he could've prevented a whole lot of trouble and emotional pain as well as the inevitable.
Alfred moved in for the kill the night he realised he was leaving for Canada the next morning. It pained him that he couldn't stay with Arthur anymore, but he knew the concequences for defying the British Empire. He could be most likely shot, taken in for slavery like the rest of his kind or thrown out and left to die. He didn't want to take his chances either way, if it meant that he'd never see Arthur Kirkland again. Staying with the British Empire was the only way, though they seemed brutish, they were his best chance. He was happier with the British than he had been out with the Lakota, as ashamed as that made him feel. He felt like he belonged with the Empire, felt like family almost, whilst he was always seen as "that white Northern guy" with the Lakota.
That night, whilst it took some convincing on Arthur's part, he finally took the Colonel whole. Making him his, forever remembering every part of his anatomy to last him until he could return from Canada. He hoped, anyway. He wasn't sure how long he would be gone, or if he will ever see Colonel Arthur Kirkland again, but he was determined to make this the night to always remember.
It was that night that changed things, something Nature intended to leave unbroken, but Nature wasn't the greatest force out there, despite what people say. Nature might be great at creating and destroying, but it's Love that really makes changes and surpasses all laws from Nature and those made by Man-kind. When they both came undone, it was done. Nature and Man-kind were changed in a way nothing else ever could, at least, not for the good for either. Alfred held stories to tell his tribe that not all British were bad after all, the same as them, but just different views, but it was possible for West and East to meet in the middle, whilst Arthur went to become General to change how the West were treated, not to change them, but to treat them as equals and allow them to pray to the spirit of the West, so East and West mixed perfectly.
But that was ambition, not reality. Ambition took years to come into play, too many years that Arthur and Alfred could stand. But it was a start; at least, it was a start.
Arthur had woken up with a pain in the arse, just like he knew Alfred was one. Grunting, he shifted to learn that the warm body he tried looking for wasn't there, Alfred had already left. The room was bright and the fire had gone out, it was at least midday, he'd missed Alfred. Saddened, then he became angry.
"Damn wanker left me naked here with a pain in the arse and didn't even have the courtesy to say goodbye!" Arthur sulked, really, how rude of Alfred! Arthur wasn't going to miss that wanker; no way was he going to let himself think that.
Too late. Arthur got up, with a challenge, he'd have to think of an excuse for that, "sorry, can't work today, horse bucked and really kicked my arse," though tempting, probably not the best idea. Arthur looked down, a bit shocked to see blood on the sheets. Now he had to clean those up too!
"Alfred, you right bastard, could've at least helped me out here, wanker!" Arthur sighed, really, Alfred wasn't worth it. But he smiled, of course he was, he was worth that trouble.
After washing those sheets, getting rid of incriminating evidence of their sinful act, a good shower, really it wouldn't do to feel dried cum on his thighs most of the day, and getting dressed for a day of hard labour whilst it still felt he had a hot poker between his legs, he grabbed a piece of parchment and began to write.
Alfred got off the train and was shown to his cabin. It wasn't as big as Arthur's, but it wasn't bad, certainly not bad! Now Alfred was given the task of keeping track of the trains and their loading whilst being aware of any changes. He'd help his fellow Northerners whilst he could, but there was very little he could do.
What surprised Alfred the most was what happened not even five minutes after settling down in his cabin and unpacking his belongings, what little he had.
"Sir! Message from Colonel Arthur Kirkland!" Alfred blinked. Already? That old git really didn't wait, did he? Still, it brought a smile to his face as he grabbed the letter, encrusted with the British Empire emblem as a sure sign of its hidden message nobody else was to read.
Alfred had to wait until nightfall and his retreat back into the cabin before he dared open it, when he did, he got the best night sleep he thought possible with the presence of his Eastern old man.
You realise you left quite a mess after your little escape attempt? You left me to clean up all the rubbish and get rid of evidence whilst you were gallivanting off in a train to Canada to meet all your eskimo friends! I even had to tell the General that I got kicked by a horse because I was walking like a penguin all day! That's the last time I ever let you get that close again. If I do ever see you again, be prepared, be very prepared.
Things haven't changed at all here, though we expect more shipments to arrive in a couple of days. I can't believe I'm saying this, or writing this for that matter, but nevertheless, I can't believe that I miss you already. Things were exciting when you were here, now it's as monotonous as it always was. I hope you don't plan to camp up there all day, it would be an honour to see you again, well after I've given you fitting punishment for leaving me in utter turmoil after our… yeah, anyway…
I'll see if I can get a transfer up to Canada when possible, but things really need doing down here, but as soon as I can, I will get back to you, Alfred, it just takes time. Hope you're willing to wait, I'll be doing so, impatiently as always.
Colonel Arthur "Iggy" Kirkland.
Nobody knew what happened to Arthur and Alfred after the British Empire finally met its demise. Many say that they were forced into the First World War to fight against Germany, others say they died of loneliness and some even state a broken heart for being torn apart so far away yet so close was too much for either to stand, and took their own lives. But there are those who believe they succeeded and survived and are still living to this day.
Though, that would be ludicrous, as that would make them over two hundred years old, which is unheard of. Unless they were ghosts, there is no possible way. Some things are just left better unspoken, I say. Some things are just better left unspoken.