This is a short little drabble thing from Arthur's POV, set after the Revolution. 1783, when Great Britain recognised American Independence. I need to stop writing angst xI


It was 1783. I was arriving home from Paris, but I could barely even feel the ground at my feet, or the rain on my face. In fact, I couldn't feel anything; my entire body was numb, my mind was numb and my heart was broken.

It was official now. I'd lost him. The United States of America was now official, and it was officially a land separate from mine. I'd fought for him, I'd given up to much for him and somehow he'd drifted from me and he'd … he hates me. He hates me, why does he hate me? I fought so hard for him, I don't understand.

I walked into my house and ignored the maids and house servants asking me if I needed anything, if I was all right … I just continued walking past them and went to my room. I shut the door behind me and walked to my desk, standing behind it, looking down at the papers and other documents sitting innocently on the wood. I placed my hands on the desk and leaned over, letting my head drop slightly as I just stared blankly at nothing.

All of the pain that I'd bottled up since 1776, all the sadness, all the anger, all the anguish—it suddenly just bubbled up inside of me and came spilling out. I shouted out in anger and swiped at the desk, making several of the papers fall silently to the ground. I stood straight and backed away the desk as if it had somehow offended me. I kept walking until my back came in contact with the wall, and my whole body just fell limp as I slowly slid down into a sitting position. The anger was gone now. But my body hurt from all the fighting and stress, my head was spinning and my vision was clouded and distorted from the tears now spilling down my cheeks.

I'd lost him. I'd lost my precious, beautiful and innocent Alfred. My escape from the chaotic world I live in, my peace, my refuge … I'd lost him, and I don't understand why. In Paris I couldn't bring myself to look at him, but he was probably glaring at me, and we never even spoke. I was only there because I needed to be, because my King had dragged me there.

I can't stop crying. I'm all by myself again, I have no-one to go to, no-one …

"Engwand? Why are you crying?

I looked up and saw him, standing right there—my little colony, as he had been the day that I found him; Small with a round, curious face and shining, sparkling blue eyes, untainted by the world; eyes that could only belong to a naïve child.

"Engwand, are you okay?" he asked in his sweet, soothing voice as he walked closer to me. He reached out and touched my hand, but I couldn't feel anything from the smaller one. No warmth, nothing. But that didn't fully process with me.

I reached forward and wrapped my arms around the small colony, hugging him tightly. "Alfred…Alfred…," I could barely talk, the tears still falling, my throat hoarse and dry. "My Alfred…,"

I heard the colony giggle sweetly in my arms. "Yes Engwand, I'm your Amewica," he said, his soft voice ringing like a beautiful bell. "I'll always be your Amewica, I'll always be your Alfwed,"

I smiled through the tears as I listened to him speak.

I continued to sit still, calming myself down as I continued to hold on to an illusion.