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vrishchikawrites · 3 years

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Anon asks - There was another idea I had seen on @crossdressingdeath's tumblr where JC's reputation was ruined because of his behaviour and WWX's attempts to protect him from the consequences of his behaviour. The concept happens pre Qiongqi Path where JC attacks WWX to the point it injures and frightens him. A passerby sees WWX startled and asks him what's wrong but WWX dismisses it as nothing. Said bystander ends up thinking that JC had sexually assaulted him resulting in the cultivation world gossiping about JC being a rapist when really he isn't. Overall, the cultivation world gossips about the other shitty things JC had done and because he did alot of pretty bad things, he can't defend himself and resorts to victim blaming WWX. That however only has him dig a deeper hole for himself. WWX, on the other hand is left confused as to why everybody was pitying him all of a sudden when they used to hate and/or fear him. By the time the truth comes to light, the cultivation world thinks JC had deserved it anyway with it ending with JC hated just for him being himself and public opinion on WWX flipping. If you don't mind, can you make it light-hearted?

(Probably not as light-hearted as you would wish. It is a bit complicated. Be a little gentle because I wrote this twice and ended up fleshing it out much more. Is this a short prompt or a long one? who knows. writer is tired. she will sleep now.)

Everyone has personal boundaries, even people who are usually tactile and social. Boundaries exist even between family members who love and trust each other.

Wei Wuxian is a veteran fresh from war. He has survived bloody battlefields, spent days dealing with one hostile enemy after another. Even before that, he had spent his days constantly battling resentful ghosts and monsters in a place he can’t bear thinking of now. Before that, he had survived torture at the hands of the Wens. And before-

Better not to think about it.

So, when Jiang Cheng presses up against him threateningly, his face twisted and eyes furious, Wei Wuxian can’t help but flinch. He takes a step back and puts some distance between them quickly. Jiang Cheng has grown increasingly bitter and discontent in these past few months and Wei Wuxian is getting tired of dealing with it. He doesn’t want to be in such close proximity with a man seething with fury.

Unfortunately, that reaction proves to be a mistake because Jiang Cheng follows him, “What? Are you too big for us now? Turning away from me in disgust now that you’re a war hero and the best of us?” Jiang Cheng is so close, their noses almost touch and Wei Wuxian feels his hair stand on end in response.

“Jiang Cheng,” He says lowly, something unsettling stirring in his chest. He feels almost anxious. His heart is racing and the proximity makes him feel like he’s trapped, “Back away.”

“Back away?” Jiang Cheng snarls, “Who are you to command me, Wei Wuxian? Do you know what people are saying about YunmengJiang? Do you know who-”

“Back away,” Wei Wuxian says tightly, his skin crawling, “Now.” His hard-earned instincts are sounding alarms. He feels threatened and provoked. He feels the resentful energy in him respond to the danger.

“What are you going to do? Send a few ghosts at me?” He sneers, “Try it! We’ll see how brave you are under the wrath of my Zidian.”

No. Wei Wuxian isn’t going to just stand here and let Jiang Cheng pick up Yu-furen’s habits, He’s just about to react, to give Jiang Cheng the thrashing he clearly desires when he realizes they are outside. He glances beyond his Sect Leader’s shoulder and sees a small group of three clad in bright white looking at them with wide eyes.

He bites back his angry retort and masters himself. He’s not going to squabble with Jiang Cheng in front of Lan disciples. His relationship with Lan Zhan is strained as it is.

“We’re in public,” He says, hoping that concern for his Sect’s reputation would move Jiang Cheng if concern for Wei Wuxian doesn’t.

Jiang Cheng looks over his shoulder and sneers at the Lan disciples before rolling his head, “Lans, of course.” He snarls and pushes Wei Wuxian away roughly, “I’ll deal with you later.”

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath and watches his brother leave.

The Lan disciples are still looking at him with heartwarming concern. He waves at them with a smile and watches as they start like little ducklings and bow to him before fleeing.

Cute.

---

“We have to do something!” Lan Zhanxiao insists, “Did you see how he looked? Wei Wuxian was clearly trying to-”

“Shh! Keep your voice down!” Lan Lishan reprimands.

“Don’t say his name!” Lan Guan whispers urgently, looking around in a panic. There are already a few curious and interested eyes glancing in their direction. Wei Wuxian is a notorious name, after all. Even non-cultivators are interested in the man who had just a material impact on the war. It is hard to tell if they would’ve won without that powerful unorthodox cultivator on their side.

“We can’t just stand by and do nothing,” Lan Zhanxiao, always the righteous one, continues. He doesn’t care about the people around them, “If Wei Wuxian is hurt and we do nothing to prevent it, aren’t we culpable as well?”

“This is Wei Wuxian. Who would dare?” Lan Guan asks incredulously, “He is one of the most powerful cultivators in existence.”

“Is he?” Zhanxiao demands, “Doesn’t everyone know he’s very loyal to Jiang-zongzhu? Would he take a step against him? Even if it meant saving himself?”

“He should be building his own sect,” Lan Lishan says reluctantly, “He’s the Grandmaster of his cultivation form. It may be an unorthodox method, but it is still something new and entirely unique.” He would know. Lan Lishan is an avid student of history and cultivation theory. He knows that most cultivators with unique abilities tend to form their own sect to pass their teachings down.

He shudders at the prospect of cultivating resentful energy but Wei Wuxian has mentioned it is a technique people with absent or damaged Golden Cores can use.

The potential is almost limitless.

“See what I mean?” Lan Zhanxiao points out, “Hasn’t he been isolated from other cultivators because they fear his methods? If Jiang-zongzhu is really hurting him or…” He grimaces and lowers his voice, “That expression, Shan-ge, it reminds me of jiejie. What if Jiang-zongzhu is… doing something inappropriate?”

They all exchange alarmed glances, “You don’t think…?” Lan Guan breathes, horrified.

“He was scrambling to get away,” Lan Zhanxiao says, “And Jiang-zongzhu kept pressing-”

“We can’t talk about this here,” Lan Lishan says firmly, “Come, let’s leave.”

Unfortunately, they leave chaos behind.

---

Rumors are a powerful entity in the cultivation world. They are born in tea and wine houses, spread from one tradesman to another and spread to the far reaches of cultivation society in a matter of months.

The rumors about Jiang’ Wanyin’s treatment of a war hero are no exception to this rule. People gossip about it with their friends and neighbors, share the news with vendors while on errands, and the rumors continue to grow. With every retelling, the story changes, growing increasingly distorted and vile.

“The entire business is unpleasant,” A small clan cultivator says to one of his tradesman friends, “Jealousy really alters a man.” He speaks about old rumors then, speculations about Wei Wuxian’s parentage, Madam Yu’s wrath, and the Jiang heir’s relatively lackluster growth in comparison to his prodigious shixiong.

“Surely not,” Another cultivator scoffs, “Who would dare raise a hand against Wei Wuxian? Did he not decimate a large Wen battalion with just his flute and some music?”

“Merchants at Lotus Pier say Wei Wuxian always looks wan and tired these days. He has grown pale.” One woman whispers to her companion, “He spends more time in wine houses with ghost maidens than in the comfort of his rebuilt home.”

“It seems so improbable!” A young cultivator protests, “Why would Jiang-zongzhu provoke the sleeping dragon like this? Wei Wuxian is stable now but who knows when he will give into resentment?”

“Lan disciples saw it.”

And that’s the crux of the matter. If the rumor didn’t originate from Lan disciples, it might not have traveled so far. Lans are known for their honest and forthright nature, after all. What cause did they have to lie? And no Lan spoke carelessly, so their words must be the whole truth, without any exaggeration.

Because Lans are the source, everything they say is taken as fact. If one Lan disciple finds Jiang-zongzhu’s behavior horribly inappropriate then it must be. If another Lan is worried about Wei Wuxian’s safety, there must be a just cause.

The rumors spread and propagate, and soon almost the entirety of the cultivation world is aware of them.

---

Gossip is forbidden at Cloud Recesses. Disciples are usually discouraged from meddling in other sect business. Rumor-mongering is punished severely, with all parties involved facing the wrath of the disciple whip.

But Lans are raised to be righteous and compassionate. If someone is in trouble, a Lan must act. He must offer a helping hand and take the victim away from danger.

When the rumors reach Caiyi Town and land on the ear of one Lan Ruyao, he hesitates. He asks around, gets more information, and then rushes back to Cloud Recesses, intent on knowing it all.

Lan Ruyao seeks the three disciples that are the cause of it all and demands an explanation, his mind disturbed with worry. What he hears gives him no comfort for he cannot discard their concerns. The behavior they describe is alarming and their observations are precise, without any emotion clouding their judgment.

Lan Lishan narrates the incident in detail, describing every action with no embellishment or exaggeration. He speaks of Wei Wuxian’s retreat, of Jiang Wanyin’s insistence, the threat of whipping, and words spoken with cruelty and disrespect.

Lan Ruyao’s mind is disturbed as he retreats, absentmindedly assigning some lines to the junior disciples. They have erred by being so indiscreet but their cause is righteous. They don’t deserve severe punishment.

He meditates on the matter for an entire morning, trying to decide on a course of action.

You see, Lan Ruyao is Lan Wangji’s peer. He has known the Second Jade for many years, and while they are not close, they are of the same clan. The entire cultivation world may believe Lan Wangji hates Wei Wuxian, but Ruyao knows better. The Second Jade wouldn’t have been so insistent on bringing Wei Wuxian to Gusu if he didn’t care.

Lan Ruyao suspects both of them hold each other in some esteem. They have saved each other’s sides many times and seem to get along well when they’re not quarreling. He believes that they are friends.

It would be unwise to keep this from Lan Wangji.

Decision made, he quickly requests a private meeting with the Second Jade. The request is granted promptly and soon Lan Ruyao finds himself before his peer, readying himself for a difficult conversation.

The Second Jade listens to his piece without any interruption, his expression blank and beautiful as white jade. But his golden eyes are twin chips of flint, coldly furious.

Indeed, they are friends.

Lan Wangji summons the three junior disciples and questions them thoroughly. His demeanor becomes frostier as the interview progresses, his spiritual energy gaining a deadly edge when the juniors murmur of ‘inappropriate behavior.’

“You have my gratitude,” Lan Wangji says finally, bowing to him and nodding to the juniors, “Rest assured, I will address the matter directly.”

---

“Lan Zhan, wait!” Wei Wuxian protests as Lan Zhan drags him away by the elbow, his uncharacteristic behavior taking him by surprise, “Don’t take him so seriously, Lan Zhan! You know he’s a temperamental brat.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything until they are a fair distance away from Jiang Cheng and the Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian tries to get an explanation for such unusual behavior but his companion is entirely silent, guiding him towards a crop of trees that offer some semblance of privacy.

“How long have you borne this?” Lan Zhan asks once they stop walking, his golden eyes bright and fierce, “How long have you endured without speaking a word to me or your friends?”

“All my life,” He rolls his eyes, “You know Jiang Cheng has a temper and says careless things, Lan Zhan. Don’t worry, I know how to handle him.”

“All your life?” Somehow, Lan Zhan seems stricken, “Wei Ying!”

“Aiya, Lan Zhan,” Honestly, he is moved by Lan Zhan’s concern for him. They have spent so many years just quarreling and being distrustful towards each other. The concern is a pleasant distraction from the wretched state of their relationship, “Don’t worry about it. I can deal with everything Jiang Cheng throws at me.”

“How can you be so callous about your own well-being?” Lan Zhan asks, his tone betraying his dismay, “Do you not care-” He visibly bites back those angry words and calms himself, his voice taking on a gentler note, “Did you think I would not help? That your friends wouldn’t offer you shelter or protection?”

Really, this is a bit of an overreaction, isn’t it?

“Do I really have any friends left, Lan Zhan?” He asks casually but the reaction he receives is anything but casual. Lan Zhan’s eyes widen as though he has been struck, “Aiya, please don’t look like that,” Wei Wuxian feels a stir of panic because Lan Zhan looks almost hurt, “I’m just being a brat.”

“Have a care,” Lan Zhan says, “Your dismissal of this matter doesn’t put me at ease.”

“Lan Zhan,” He sighs, “I’m used to it. You saw how we were at Cloud Recesses. Did I look unusually troubled then?”

“You’ve become… accustomed to it?” Lan Zhan asks, once again looking uncharacteristically stricken. Wei Wuxian feels a stir of concern in his stomach and reaches out, placing a hand on the Second Jade’s arm, “You’re accustomed to it.”

Not knowing what to do in response to such open emotion from Lan Zhan, he looks for something to distract him. Immediately, his mind remembers an old promise, “Let’s focus on something more pleasant. It’s about time you saw Lotus Pier in its full glory, Lan Zhan! I want to show you all of my favorite places, including all of the trees I climbed!”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s voice is low and pained.

Wei Wuxian’s smile softens as he tugs on the Second Jade’s arm, “Don’t think of unpleasant things, Lan Zhan. It’s a beautiful day and we haven’t seen each other in months! Let’s be happy, alright?”

Wei Wuxian feels a jolt of surprise as Lan Zhan raises a hand and covers his fingers, squeezing gently. The touch is warm and reassuring, and it sets Wei his heart racing.

Lan Zhan studies him for a long moment before dipping his head elegantly, his grip on Wei Wuxian’s fingers still firm and steady, “If Wei Ying wishes it,” He promises, “I will make it so.”

Oh.

---

It all comes to a head at the Discussion Conference. Wei Wuxian is accustomed to being the center of attention these days but the quality of that attention is different now. Instead of wary glances, he sees eyes filled with sympathy and tentative smiles of welcome.

Wei Wuxian being Wei Wuxian, ignores the nagging suspicion that lingers at the back of his mind and smiles brightly back at them.

That seems to make things worse because the looks of sympathy seem to somehow intensify. He even sees a few women blink their limpid eyes and turn away, as though disguising tears. Somewhat alarmed, he glances at Jiang Cheng and winces.

His martial brother is bristling with anger. There’s a thundercloud-like expression on his face as he meets every eye in the room with a clear challenge.

If glances towards him are filled with sympathy, those towards Jiang Cheng are filled with contempt and disapproval. Between that and Lan Zhan’s protective hovering, Wei Wuxian is at the end of his patience.

He needs answers and he needs them now before the situation can escalate somehow.

Baffled by the situation, Wei Wuxian looks around and finds the most reliable source of gossip he can find. “What is going on?” He demands as soon as he is at Nie Huiasang’s side, “Why are people glaring at Jiang Cheng like he’s a fierce corpse?”

Nie Huaisang waves his fan, his expression a strange mix of amusement and grim satisfaction. For one, his old friend doesn’t hide behind his usual prevarications. He glances around the room and seems to catch someone’s eye. Wei Wuxian follows that gaze only to blink as Lan Zhan walks sedately towards them, expression stern and disapproving, “Do you know what’s going on, Lan Zhan?”

The Second Jade remains silent, his eyes fixed on Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian sighs in frustration and glares at Nie Huaisang, “Nie-xiong, what?”

His curt tone is enough to snape Nie Huaisang out of his musings. The man smiles wryly behind his fan, “Ah, Wei-xiong,” He waves his free hand, “There has been some speculation about your relationship with-”

“Why don’t you speak up?” A loud voice asks and Wei Wuxian turns around, “Why don’t you defend Wei Wuxian, Jiang-zongzhu? You’re going to let people slander your loyal Head Disciple so boldly?”

It’s Wang Jin, the Sect Leader of Runan Wang Clan. The man’s face is twisted in rage and disgust as he stares at Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian frowns, ready to step forward and stand by Jiang Cheng in such a hostile environment.

Lan Zhan’s hand on his arm stops him.

He looks at the Second Jade questioningly but the man just shakes his head, “Wait.”

“Why should he defend him?” An annoying Jin pipes up, his voice sharp and mocking, “We know what Wei Wuxian is! He may pretend to be loyal on the surface, but he is nothing but a faithless dog-”

“Jin Zixun!” Nie Mingjue snaps, “I will not have you insult one of our men in my presence! He fought and bled on our side.”

Nie Mingjue’s words silence him and Jin Guangyao speaks up soothingly as Wei Wuxian frowns, studying the scene with keen eyes, “Let us all calm down. I’m sure Wang-zongzhu means well.” He smiles placidly, “There have been rumors, just a bit of gossip about Wei-gongzi speaking ill of Jiang-zongzhu.” Wei Wuxian tilts his head to the side, mind whirling.

He refuses to be angry. There’s something about this situation that has his instincts rattled. He needs to focus.

“The Hanguang-jin himself said they were lies. Wei Wuxian has never spoken ill of Jiang Wanyin!” Well, that’s not entirely true. He is certain he has called Jiang Cheng a temperamental brat in Lan Zhan’s presence more than once. “Jiang-zongzhu should know better than to-”

“Why does Jiang-zongzhu need to do anything for that man?” Jin Zixun demands and Wei Wuxian feels a stir of amusement. All of this drama on his account? He’s honored.

“What kind of Sect Leader is he?” Wang-zongzhu asks, fuming, “If he doesn’t even defend his own Head Disciple? Has he not brought glory to YungmengJiang? Doesn’t the Sect owe him a debt of gratitude?” Wei Wuxian winces and Jiang Cheng’s expression turns stony, “If you want to talk of rumors, why not discuss the other rumors?” Wang-zongzhu turns to Jiang Cheng with a scowl, “Is he not your brother in all but blood? Didn’t the former Jiang-zongzhu raise Wei Wuxian as his nephew? Is this how YunmengJiang treats its brightest disciple? How will you face Jiang Fengmian, Jiang-zongzhu?”

Wei Wuxian bites back a groan as Jiang Cheng’s expression darkens with fury. This is the absolute worst thing to say to his martial brother.

“Why is he so concerned about this?” Wei Wuxian asks, almost to himself.

Nie Huiasang leans in and whispers in his ear, “His sisters were… assaulted by the Wens.”

Wei Wuxian feels a shudder crawl down his spine and shakes his head. Those disgusting wretches deserved the death he inflicted on them.

He still doesn’t understand what this has to do with him.

He glances at Lan Zhan, he is looking at the scene with his usual frosty expression, giving nothing away. He looks ahead to see Jiang Cheng ready to erupt and frowns. “Lan Zhan, I need to… help, somehow.”

“Wei Ying needs to do nothing.”

He’s about to protest when Jiang Cheng finally snaps, “Glory to YunmengJiang? He has brought nothing but devastation to it!” Wei Wuxian flinches and Lan Zhan steps forward and to the side, pointedly placing himself between the two Jiang Sect cultivators, “YunmengJiang has always been glorious. My ancestors bled and fought for it! We earned our glory through centuries of cultivation and diligence! I owe him a debt? Wei Wuxian owes me the lives of my parents! He provoked the Wens to save Lan Wangji’s life and I lost my family because of it!”

“Jiang-zongzhu, perhaps-”

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng interrupted Jin Guangyao, “How I treat my Head Disciple is none of your business.”

“It is very much our business if you’re abusing him,” Nie Mingjue says and it silences everyone.

Wei Wuxian is… dumbfounded. He feels like he’s just a mass of confusion at this point because nothing about this situation makes sense. “Abuse?” He whispers harshly to Nie Huaisang, grabbing his arm to drag him away to a quieter corner, “Nie Huaisang, what is going on? Jiang Cheng doesn’t abuse me!”

“Does he not?” It is Lan Zhan who speaks, his expression solemn, “Truly, Wei Ying? Does he not abuse you?”

“Of course, not-”

“So he didn’t threaten you with Zidian?” Nie Huaisang asks, “Or try to physically intimidate you while you were clearly trying to step away?”

Wei Wuxian frowns, “Well yes, but that is just him being angry! He does that all the time.”

“That is no comfort to us.” Lan Zhan says stiffly.

“Didn’t he push you away several times? We have accounts from people who saw you fall to the ground.” Nie Huaisang’s expression is unusually stern, “Didn’t he seek to isolate you from everyone? Didn’t he keep telling you Wangji-xiong hated you?”

“Wangji-xiong gave every impression of hating me.” Wei Wuxian firmly denies, “Let us not attribute that particular error to someone else.”

“Indeed,” Lan Zhan nods graciously, as expected. He wouldn’t be Lan Zhan if he didn’t accept his own mistakes without hesitation.

“Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang tucks his fan away and he sees Lan Zhan focus on that, his eyes suddenly sharp, “He has been saying the same thing since you were at Cloud Recesses. He has always dragged you away from Lan Wangji. You saved Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan’s lives. Why is he so intent on our Second Jade, hmm?”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, “You’re making this unnecessarily complicated.” He says, “On the surface, all of these actions appear wrong but the intent behind them isn’t cruel.”

“Your love for him blinds you.” Wei Wuxian narrows his eyes sharply at his old friend, “If er-ge treated Wangji-xiong like that, you’d be furious. Just the threat of da-ge whipping would have you reaching for your flute.”

“Huaisang-”

“Did you think we wouldn’t feel the same way?”

Wei Wuxian studies him and Lan Zhan, realizing they are utterly serious. Concerned and a bit baffled, he looks at Jiang Cheng over his shoulder, only to find him nose to nose with Wang-zongzhu. “Heavens,” He breathes and steps forward, determined to intervene.

“You think what?” Jiang Cheng’s voice is full of disgust, “You… you think I have… that I’m some disgusting cutsleeve?!”

Wait, what?

“How dare you?! I would never touch a man!”

“Is that what he’s focusing on?” Nie Huaisang asks incredulously.

For once, Wei Wuxian has nothing to say.

---

It takes a few weeks for fresh rumors to make their rounds. People now know that Jiang Wanyin hasn’t behaved inappropriately with his martial brother, but that doesn’t make much difference.

The cultivation world, in general, still believes that Jiang Cheng’s behavior is abhorrent. Wei Wuxian is tempted to point out the hypocrisy of their words but knows it is futile. Once the masses make up their minds about something, few can persuade them to think otherwise. Jiang Cheng’s reputation has been tainted forever and there’s little they can do about it.

Unfortunately, this issue has also cemented the break between Wei Wuxian and his Sect Leader. There’s nothing that can repair the relationship now. He feels a pang of loss but he had already resigned himself to that when he had given away his Golden Core.

Fortunately, it seems he has some options available.

“Come to Gusu with me,” Lan Zhan says, his tone softer, his voice imploring, “Please.” This time, Wei Wuxian can’t mistake his intent. Lan Zhan’s reaction to the entire mess made one thing very clear to him.

Lan Wangji cares about him.

Isn’t that something? Never in his life did Wei Wuxian think he would be in such a position. He had always assumed Jiang Cheng would be by his side and Lan Wangji would stand against him. But everything is different now.

Wei Wuxian thinks of his childhood home, thinks of a life that has been irrevocably changed, and sinks in those memories for a brief moment. Despite what everyone thinks, there have been some good times. He doesn’t regret the course his life took when he was welcomed to the Lotus Pier by Jiang Fengmian.

He lingers, briefly, on regret,

Then, he shrugs it off and looks into the golden eyes of his future with a grin, “I’ll come to Gusu with you, Lan Zhan.”

And that’s that.

#short prompts #wei wuxian #lan wangji #mentions of abuse #anti jiang cheng #nie huaisang #too tired for tags

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nikibogwater · 4 years

Text

A Shot in the Dark: Chapter 3 (Author’s Commentary)

(Read the fic here)

General Notes:

The final chapter! I don’t have too many general notes for this one (though the passage-specific notes below the cut stretch on for miles--there was just a lot going on in this chapter lol). But I will say that this is my favorite chapter of the three. It’s what the previous two have been building up to, and it really is the “heart” of the story, so to speak. That, and I finally got to make Glitter Wings Nari canon to The Immortal Bonds! (picture below the cut) I genuinely teared up a little bit while writing a couple of these scenes. I don’t know if that means they are very good, or that I was just absolutely exhausted after cranking out the first two chapters, but maybe you can be the judge. Friendly reminder to go listen to the song “Protector” by City Wolf if you are so inclined. It was a huge part of what inspired this story, and now that all three parts are published, I feel like it perfectly captures the theme and feel of A Shot in the Dark as a whole.

Passage-Specific Notes:

“...Please, Nari, I would not be doing my duty as Douxie’s...as your friend if I let you run thoughtlessly into this kind of danger.”

Another small line of dialogue that means a lot to me. I didn’t see Archie as making the instant connection with Nari that Douxie did. I think it took him a while to see her as anything more than “Douxie’s Ward.” He was always kind to her and took care of her, but I think it took him until now to realize that he had grown to really love her as part of the family. So the fact that he corrects himself here reflects that realization. I think under normal circumstances, the moment Archie finds out Douxie is in trouble/hurting, he would dive headfirst into hell without a second thought in order to help his boy. But because Nari is now also under his protection--and more importantly, now that she also has a special place in his heart--Archie has to force himself to slow down and come up with a plan that will keep BOTH of his kids safe.

The phone rang once--twice--six times. Then it went to voicemail.

Nari lowered it with a look of pure dejection as Claire’s pre-recorded voice cheerfully told them to leave their message after the beep.

I felt like calling Claire for backup was the most sensible thing they could do in this situation--but I also needed Nari and Archie to take on Project Rescue Douxie by themselves, in order to reinforce the family bond these three have. The moment when they all reunite at the end wouldn’t have had the emotional impact I was angling for if there had been others present. So I had to pull a tiny plot contrivance and make Claire unavailable. I didn’t feel the need to explain why she doesn’t answer her phone (people miss calls all the time) but my personal theory was that she was taking a nice relaxing shower and couldn’t pick up the phone. (look, I need SOMEBODY in this story to be having a nice time lol).

“By Ambrosia’s Gleam...” Archie breathed. A pair of dazzlingly beautiful wings reflected every light of the city back at him as Nari folded and unfolded them experimentally. They were unlike anything the cat had ever seen in his long life, vibrantly colored with rich shades of green and gold, glittering like morning dew, yet delicate as a newly budding flower.

Anybody remember last week, when I said the Most Self-Indulgent part was yet to come? This was it lol. I don’t remember when I started imagining Nari with sparkly butterfly wings, but back in early October, I drew this:

and I have been absolutely enamored with the idea ever since (but also it was a convenient way to get them to the warehouse without having to go through the ordeal of walking/taking a taxi/busting out the flying boat). So yeah. Nari’s Glitter Wings are canon to The Immortal Bonds series now. I have spoken.

He had no idea how long he had been enduring Rivan’s torture. It may have only been a few minutes, or it may have been a few years. Hell, he was getting to the point where it felt like this excruciating ache in his bones had been there his whole life. He tried not to sob as Rivan slowly pulled his magic back to himself, the agony abating for just a short moment of sweet relief. Douxie sucked in gulps of air, desperate to replenish the oxygen that had been ripped from his lungs by his own screaming.

First time really writing whump, so that was...something (I was exhausted after just the one paragraph lol). I tried to keep it as vague as I could because I don’t want anybody coming to my fic expressly for a graphic torture scene and nothing else (I don’t do the hurt-no-comfort thing, and I don’t want anybody to use my fics as such). But putting Douxie through a bit of hell does make the ending SO much sweeter. And if he hadn’t been experiencing pain, Archie and Nari probably would have taken longer to decide to come to his rescue. But there is still a part of me that detests every letter of that paragraph.

The small dragon let out a roar of fury and leapt at Rivan, his form twisting and expanding into that of an enormous black panther. The two crashed together in a flurry of red sparks and tearing claws.

Archie turning into a black panther and going to town on Rivan is also a bit of self-indulgence. I just really love big cats, and black panthers especially are beautiful, mysterious, and powerful creatures that just SCREAM Magic and Otherworldliness to me. (also I really want to draw Panther!Archie now).

He slammed against the concrete with a yowl of pain that tore Douxie’s heart into a thousand pieces, and dropped to the floor, where he lay quivering and heaving.

That line right up there 👆 is the most heart-wrenchingly painful thing I have ever forced myself to write. 😥

Nari grabbed Douxie by the shoulders and pulled him upright. One of her hands reached around him and pressed against his heart, and he felt her aura slam into his. Instinctively, his soul opened, and he let her magic pour into him, filling his veins with the warmth of a hundred suns, wrapping around and tangling with his own magic so tightly that he could barely tell whose was whose. Nari’s voice filled his head, drowning out every sound in his ears, every thought in his mind. My magic is yours. Use it. He threw both of his hands out and felt power unlike anything he had ever known surge into his palms and explode out of his fingertips.

So this ties into a headcanon of mine that, while Nari’s magic isn’t well-suited to direct combat, she is able to augment Douxie’s powers. But this scene is also probably the culmination of every relationship-building moment I have ever written for these two. I established in A Moment to Breathe that to let someone interact with your aura in this way--to basically channel their magic directly into you--requires a great deal of trust. Douxie let Nari heal him in that story, but that was after she had asked permission to pour her magic into him. Here, she doesn’t have time to ask--she just has to go for it, and Douxie’s trust and familiarity with her is so intense at this point, that his response is to immediately surrender completely to her power. Not only that, he is so familiar with her magic, that he is able to use it himself--he combines it with his own power and casts a spell that Nari is likely unable to use herself. I intended this moment to be a representation of the way family relationships can shape and empower you. You carry elements of the people you love with you wherever you go; their influence, their stories, their love for you--it all helps shape you into the person you are. And these things are often so deeply intertwined with your own personality, that it becomes impossible to fully separate them.

They had risked everything--the fate of the world, even--to save him. He should have scolded them. But instead, Douxie suddenly found himself overwhelmed with the ridiculous urge to cry.

This was the reason I wrote Douxie in Distress--and also one of the reasons I wrote A Shot in the Dark at all. I wanted him to experience being stripped of everything that made him powerful--useful-- and then witness his family risking literally everything for him. Not for his powers, not for what he can do for them, but because they love him. This poor, sweet boy gives and gives and gives, and the world has done nothing but take from him, and I have said “ENOUGH.” I wanted the serotonin of seeing him realize that he is valued and cherished for himself, and BY THUNDER I WAS GOING TO GET IT EVEN IF I HAD TO WRITE 9000+ WORDS FOR IT.

She pulled back a moment later, roughly drying her face on her sleeve, and untied the black hoodie around her waist. She draped it around Douxie’s shoulders with her magic, and he sighed contentedly as the warm fabric settled around him. He slipped his arms into the sleeves and closed the garment around himself gratefully, giving Nari a tired, heartfelt smile.

I didn’t realize it when I initially drafted the story, but Douxie’s hoodie is actually a really nice visual representation of how he and Nari pass the role of caretaker/protector back and forth. Douxie is wearing it for the first half of the story, when he is acting as Nari’s guardian/brother. Shortly after he lends it to her though, he’s captured by Rivan, and Nari takes on the role of protector in turn. But yeah, originally it was just “Them trading the hoodie back and forth is pointlessly cute and I wanna do it.” (Poor Archie has to be the Adult 100% of the time. He doesn’t get a break).

Most of Douxie’s mornings began with the harsh, clattering sound of his phone vibrating and whistling next to his ear. But that Sunday morning began with a deliciously warm silence. Douxie’s eyes blinked open slowly, finding sunlight lazily shining through the windows. He was lying on his side, with Archie’s soft, familiar body tucked against his chest. A gentle warmth against his back told Douxie that Nari was curled up beside him, wrapped in her own little cocoon of blankets, her back against his. The ache in his bones was gone. He was nestled safely in the warmth and love of his small family, the world outside and all that occurred within it nothing more than a distant echo.

Wrapping his arms around Archie and pressing his back more firmly against Nari’s, Douxie closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

This final scene wasn’t actually in my original outline--originally, the story ended with the three of them beginning the long trek home together. But I felt that the story needed just a little extra time to savor in the happy ending. And so, it came full circle--ending just like it began, with the dawning of a new morning. I noticed that I spend a lot of time in this story comparing the mornings of different characters/days. I think that might have been a subconscious expression of my belief that every morning is the beginning of a new opportunity--to strengthen bonds, to do good in the world, to just live for another day. Douxie’s Saturday morning started off a little rougher than he wanted--he woke up early and had to rush around to get ready for a long day out on the town. And wouldn’t you know it, his Saturday ended pretty badly too (though I think he’s probably just grateful he got to go home in one piece haha). This Sunday morning plays out in the exact opposite way. It’s quiet, peaceful, unhurried, and full of hope. Douxie’s been through hell and back, but he survived long enough to see another beginning. And I think that’s the beautiful cycle that all human life follows. There’s pain in life, darkness and hopelessness, but if you can hold on, strengthened by the love of the people you hold dear, you will always find a new beginning waiting for you on the other side of the valley.

...And that’s it. Thank you to everyone for reading my work. Seeing everyone who enjoyed it, hearing from you guys in the comments, knowing that I was able to give someone a good story--it really does mean the world to me. So again, thanks for joining me, and I hope our paths cross again soon. 🤗✨

#fanfiction #author's commentary #the magical siblings #and their therapy cat #a shot in the dark #thanks for reading <3

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capmerthur · 5 years

Text

THE BODY SWAP

It’s all in the title :) Somewhere end S1 (after 1.11 Labyrinth, but pre 1.13 Morte). In a land of myth, and a time of magic, Arthur awakes inside Merlin’s body (and no, not in that way). Alternating Merthur POV. Bonus Gaius. Mentions of Will and George.

Excerpt PART IX:

"I have- I mean you have... Magic!"

Merlin's breath catches; panick rising. Arthur knows! Arthur knows?

"Yes, Merlin; you heard right! Magic! I saw water and wood floating above my head - floating, Merlin! - That's the only way to explain it! But I have no idea how it gets triggered, I have no idea how to control any of it - I fell and it happened, I guess, instinctively? Now you understand why I couldn't have us stage a fall... If people find out? *When* people find out? My Father will have me - YOU - beheaded!"

Merlin's eyebrow furrow. He doesn't understand. If Arthur knows he has magic? How come Arthur looks *contrite* instead of angry; afraid *for him* instead of afraid of him?

(PREVIOUS CHAPTERS UNDERS CHAPTER IX)

IX. REVELATIONS (MERLIN POV)

Arthur looks anxious - which only makes Merlin worry more.

"I found out... why I was put into your body. I'm sorry, Merlin. I wear your chainmail because your body is in great danger; and it's all because of me... again. "

"Wha-"

Arthur cuts him with an imperative gesture from his hand, voice hushed - even though it echoes in Merlin's ears like a shout:

"I have- I mean you have... Magic!"

Merlin's breath catches; panick rising. Arthur knows! Arthur knows?

Arthur seems to read his struck expression though as simple denial.

Merlin's eyebrow furrow. He doesn't understand. If Arthur knows he has magic? How come Arthur looks *contrite* instead of angry; afraid *for him* instead of afraid of him? Not that Merlin is complaining about the fact that Arthur obviously doesn't wish to see him beheaded, of course; his evident worry is even heartwarming, in a way... but heartbreaking, too, as Merlin can't help but feel that Arthur's reaction must be induced by some reason that he doesn't comprehend yet but that has little to do about him having magic at all...

Arthur then fully explains his theory about their attacker using his body to get to Camelot by erasing Arthur, then Uther, and marching against a Camelot lead by an unprepared servant playing Prince. Merlin is shocked, and shaken. Because indeed Arthur's reaction isn't about him having magic at all, but about Arthur feeling responsible for his body's impending doom. But what hurts the most yet is the heavy guilt that settles upon Merlin's chest - crushing, constricting, inescapable - as he realizes that in fact everything is his fault! Arthur's thinking may be flawed on one account; but the rest of it makes sense, indeed. And so Merlin cannot deny that Arthur has been targeted and put into his own body because whoever did this actually knows that he has magic.

And so Merlin feels panick rising again, and even worse than before. It is already complicated enough for Merlin to hide his powers - and he has had practice at it since his birth. How could Arthur ever successfully hide them for long... And to think that *HE* might be the cause of Arthur's death? It's worse than anything; worse than everything. And it's devastating. Merlin can't hold Arthur's gaze anymore.

Arthur probably thinks he is overwhelmed by the surprise of his body being a target though.

"And I'm sorry - again, Merlin - but I can't go and hide at some random remote place until I've worked out how to subdue it at least, if not suppress it. There is no time. I can't leave Camelot; not when it's so endangered."

Merlin feels like screaming: Arthur shouldn't apologize; Arthur shouldn't feel guilty - It's all on him!

"It's all right, Arthur. I know you're right: we have to stay here. After all, our best shot to end this mess is to find guidance in some books; and our best shot to find said books is staying here." (Also, you bet Merlin isn't willing to leave Camelot either because he is going to consult with Kilgarrah... Merlin had planned to go to the Great Dragon at the first occasion right when he had realized they had switched bodies; but he now can't help but wish for the night to come even sooner.)

Arthur looks surprised by Merlin's easy acceptance as he lets out: "I was going to point that out too?"

Arthur seems to hesitate an instant, taking a deep breath; but then, probably finally enticed by the fact that they still are on the same page apparently, he hushes out words that Merlin had never imagined he would ever hear, even in his wildest dreams.

"Now that's settled... Do you have any idea that might help me keep it in check? I mean... Back in Ealdor? Did your friend Will maybe ever share something with you that we could use? Anything?"

Merlin's mouth falls open; but nothing comes out of it. He realizes just how surreal it must have been for Arthur to utter those words. But Arthur looks decided, as always. He means it. And that's when Merlin realizes Arthur is in fact ready to *learn*. Arthur still doesn't trust magic, and definitely doesn't trust his magic now that he has some; he only sees it as a treacherous condition. But he is willing to face it, instead of wishing or pretending it isn't even there. And Merlin realizes that this isn't only proof of Arthur's mighty heart; but that it also might actually be their saving too, with some luck?

And so Merlin just HAS to take a chance. Anyway, Arthur *needs* him; and how could Merlin ever let him down to start with... Besides, what if it made Arthur realize that magic isn't only to be feared; that magic can be good, too, actually?

"Maybe you shouldn't learn how to keep it check, but how to have it *work*?"

Arthur opens his mouth now, either in shock or to retort - or both; so Merlin hurries to push his point.

"Hear me out, please. Even when we do find an helpful book? The spell we're under must be very powerful - I mean, have you ever heard or thought this could even be possible? - so we might still require magic too in order to perform whatever will be mentioned in the book? So yes, your new abilities are dangerous; but maybe they are a good thing too? You have MAGIC, Arthur. If you can control it and use it - on your terms? Maybe that's just what we need to solve our problem?"

Merlin waits. And Arthur isn't taking the opportunity to repel his idea. Silence goes on; and still, Arthur isn't refusing. If anything, he looks... thoughtful, even if doubtful. But there's resolve, too; and maybe, even, a spark of hope? So Merlin just takes the final plunge.

"As you said... I might have... some basic notions about it? It's worth a try, Arthur. What do you say?"

Merlin's heart is pounding so hard it's going to break his chest for sure, as they hold gazes for a long time - Merlin silently pleading for Arthur to just trust him. Then Arthur gives him a firm nod.

"I say this is probably folly but we have to try, indeed. So. You train me? And I train you."

Merlin tilts his head, unsure about the second part.

"There are things I want to teach you, Merlin", Arthur explains; pleads even. "In case we stay stuck in each others body no matter what we try; in case your body should- I know it's a lot to ask, especially as I apparently keep making your life a hell just by existing? But will you please let me prepare you to take my place, if necessary?"

Merlin's breath is knocked out of him. Arthur would trust *him* with *Camelot*? But Merlin cannot even contemplate it. Arthur cannot be gone; musn't be gone; will not be gone. Merlin's voice is fierce as it simply refutes the prospect.

"Sire, it won't come to-"

Arthur lays a hand on his shoulder.

"It would mean a lot to me."

And what can Merlin do then, but promise - and mean it:

"Anything, Arthur."

The hand leaves his shoulder, but Arthur's eyes stay fixed on him.

"Thank you, Merlin."

And Merlin takes another oath - this one to himself. They'll work it out. They'll make it work. They will.

They both feel guilty for endangering the other more than they are worried about themselves *heavy sigh*

I. AWAKING (ARTHUR POV)

Arthur awakes; lying on his back - unusual - and rolls over automatically.

He surprisingly falls, down, hard; and jerks fully awake now - on the floor, near a so very tiny bed, tangled in an unknown blanket (harsher than his standards, even while on errands, he can’t help but notice).

In disbelief, he eyes his surroundings…

Where is he? Has he been abducted?

Think, he admonishes himself - trying to clear his mind; to remember what must have happened, to guess who has dared to commit such an act, and, most important of all right now: Find a way out.

His eyes then suddenly meet Merlin’s, and relief surges through him somehow - Merlin is alive - before his anxiety returns; and double: because poor faithful, loyal Merlin has obviously been taken too; and it’s Arthur’s fault - he must have failed to save them both from being taken, even though he cannot remember anything…

Except when Arthur reaches out to Merlin for him to come closer (they need to share information and plan, but must be quiet as a mouse), he realizes with fright but indeniable certainty that Merlin is in fact a reflection in a mirror; and worse: *HIS* reflection!?

It his NOT his hand indeed that is stretching out in front of him; NOT his clothes on his person; and definitely NOT his own hair falling upon his eyes, as he notices the black strings in his vision range…

Arthur is dumbstruck. He sees Merlin’s mouth shaping a silent O, and he sees the dread in Merlin’s eyes… except they ARE - he feels - *his* mouth, and *his* eyes; and everything is just plainly wrong, and plainly impossible - but undeniably REAL.

He is… Merlin? Or better said, *inside* Merlin? How can such a thing have even come to be?

Sorcery, Arthur understands with horror: Camelot is under attack!

But now armed with the knowledge of his predicament, Arthur realizes he is actually in Merlin’s bedroom. He’s been in here before, once; and he recognizes it all now.

So. Not abducted. All things considered, that still counts as something, right…

And, as it surely doesn’t feel as if Merlin is still somewhere in his own head too while Arthur is inside of it, well… Maybe? Logically? Merlin might then be in return inside his own body?

Arthur suddenly finds himself praying for this to be true. It would be for the best, if Merlin was in his body - if they were the only ones concerned by this unnatural situation; because what if *everyone* was awaking inside someone else’s body this morning? That would be… precarious - the general panic leaving Camelot completely vulnerable to whoever must have plotted this? The worst though would be if the one responsible for this was right now in control of his body, and acting as Crown Prince to do, well, evil deeds… So yes, you bet Arthur truly wants to find Merlin to be the one inside his own body when he finally finds it.

Arthur jumps on his feet, ready for action. Luckily (even though Arthur feels a bit guilty, as he notices his armour in pristine state against the opposite wall - apparently Merlin has been polishing it late into the night then) Merlin hasn’t bothered to undress before falling asleep.

So. First thing first: he has to go to his chamber.

Picking some weapon on the way for good measure, you bet …

Simply walking the few paces to open the door though turns out to be a challenge. His limbs are too long, and dangly; it feels like he has two left feet, and he has to try thrice before actually getting a grip on the handle - because he isn’t used to this body, of course - but maybe it is truly NOT Merlin’s fault if he trips over his own feet that often after all…

Gaius is already out - hopefully looking for herbs and not wandering out of his mind… Arthur would have preferred to be able to test right away his theories about how many people were affected by the damn body change; but unfortunately, it would have to wait some more.

The corridors are empty too, except for a stray black cat who walks at his side long enough for Arthur to start questioning himself about asking to the cat if he *is* Merlin - because Merlin HAS to be somewhere, right, as he obviously isn’t where he should be to start with; but then the cat takes another turn… Arthur feels stupid for worrying so much about his silly manservant - but he cannot deny that he definitely will worry less only after having indeed finally found said silly manservant.

Arthur relaxes slighthly though when he enters the kitchen: people are working as usual, apparently not in shock, apparently in their right bodies. He picks up the first tray he finds, along with an extra knife that he hides in his pocket for good measure.

He tries to put on a confident grin as he walks (with the most assurance he can muster in this awkward-feeling body) towards the guards at his bedroom’s door - and can only hope it will look the same as usual to them. They let him pass without trouble, and Arthur isn’t sure whether it’s a good thing. On the one hand, he *doesn’t* doubt Merlin - he simply, intrinsically doesn’t; and would never want him to feel like he did if his guards were to search him whenever he was about to enter his chamber. On the other hand… well, it isn’t Merlin right now entering his chamber, with knifes at the ready… This time, it’s only him; but what if it happens again, and if the one then inside Merlin’s body has ill intentions…

Deciding not to dwell on this for the time being, Arthur enters his bedroom - hoping to find Merlin doing whatever Merlin always does, but preparing for a fight, if need be…

II. AWAKING (MERLIN POV)

Merlin awakes as if in a cocoon; literally. He is surrounded by softness, flush, warmth; he cannot remember ever feeling so comfortable - and the world can wait for just another few seconds before he opens his eyes, right… Merlin wriggles, shifting on his back, sighing softly as he nestles some more into the cushions…

When Merlin awakes for the second time - culpability sinking in as he realizes he has overslept - his eyes open to a Pendragon red canopy he would recognize even among hundreds. Merlin freezes: what the hell is he doing, sleeping IN ARTHUR’S BED?!

Merlin sits upright at once - blankets falling all around him to reveal that he wears ARTHUR’S NIGHTGOWN too ?!

Whaaaaaaaat?!

This… just DOESN’T make any sense. The last thing he can remind is sitting on his own bed, polishing the last bit of Arthur’s armour before letting himself fall down to sleep (*AN). He surely doesn’t recall walking to Arthur’s chamber, and even less…

Merlin’s mind is reeling as he shuffles out of bed as swiftly as he can. Oh my… What is Arthur going to think? And come to think of it - true panic now creeping down on Merlin at that thought: *WHERE* is Arthur to start with?

His attention is drawn out right then by Arthur calling out his name (Merlin feels relief, no matter his current embarrassing situation) - in one of those thousands yet unmistakably always Arthurian ways to say his name: a myriad of moods and meanings in those simple two syllables - the voice sounding odd though this morning (is Arthur sick?), and tensed (well, he just found his manservant in *his* bed, that might explain it!).

Merlin turns to face his sovereign, trying to feel less self conscious because he mustn’t look guilty, while wishing for inspiration, and buying time until it hits: “There is actually a perfectly valid explan-”

But it is NOT Arthur he sees: it is… himself? His breath catches as 'utter confusion’ gets a new meaning, you bet…

At the same moment, Merlin notices suddenly just how *not his* his voice has just sounded, and how he’s wearing a very particular ring around one finger of what’s NOT his hand, and how *blond* hair is falling upon his eyes… And still nothing makes sense; but at least it *does* explain how he awoke in Arthur’s bed in Arthur’s clothes: he *is* Arthur?; and… Arthur… is him? MUST be him. He has been calling his name right the right way, right?!

“Arthur?” Merlin barely dares to breathe out, both in wonder and in plea (because Arthur CANNOT be gone - the fear and pain and simple *impossibility* of such a concept slicing through Merlin’s mind like a knife).

There is a bright smile then appearing on his face - a smile that doesn’t entirely look like his own though - “Yes, Merlin. It’s me,” followed by a relieved sigh: “And it’s you”. And, despite the shock about them having apparently switched bodies (?!?!), Merlin can’t help but feel warm all over - because Arthur (and yes, it is so clearly Arthur, even in HIS body!) has apparently been worried about him.

(*AN) Headcanon time :

Merlin uses magic to clean Arthur’s armour in the beginning, indeed. And he still uses magic for most of the chores, as much as he can, of course (washing clothes, mending clothes, emptying chamber pots, sweeping fireplaces, preparing baths, refreshing beds, cleaning floors, cleaning everything, really (except for mucking the stables, because there are always others around, grrrr). But he quickly grows nearly *maniac* about Arthur’s food (picking at it as a way to make sure it’s not poisoned etc…) and about Arthur’s armour: it’s one of Arthur’s protections - so you bet Merlin definitely cleans and polishes and repairs and oils the leather ligaments that hold it together and EVERYTHING the hell out of it, with extra ardor and fervor, with his own two hands, all the while continuously trying to put on it any protecting spells he ever finds, and repeating those over and over at each occasion… Also, mirrors were probably not so advanced at the time… But let’s say Merlin has an enhanced one, after all he has magic, right…

On a side note, I’m never going to be over Arthur’s priority-thinking (I’m in trouble = CAMELOT IS UNDER ATTACK (babyyyy let me hold you - being Camelot Prince/King is NOT your only worth) and Merlin’s priority-thinking (what the hell is happening = WHERE THE HELL IS ARTHUR (babyyyy let me hold you - your devotion to The (brave, kind, admirable (shut up Merlin)) Prat doesn’t have to mean that you always must come second (and a bit self-preservation cannot be harmful)) *SIGH* I just love those two idiots so much !!!

III. DISABLED (MERLIN POV)

But soon, Merlin is terrified.

And not because of the puzzling body swap.

*HE HAS NO MAGIC!?*

(Not that Merlin knows of any spell to reverse their current situation at once, mind you; so he doesn’t actually try anything about it. But Merlin simply knows: there is nothing but blood running through his veins now - no vigorous warmth, no energic flow; there is simply nothing singing under his placid flesh, as he focuses on it.)

He cannot help but wish he’s wrong though, and desperately tries to move a quill on Arthur’s desk behind Arthur’s back - the simplest of things, really; yet he fails, indeed…

His magic is tied to his body. Not to his mind.

No, no, no, no, nooooooooooo.

Merlin is, to his core, *terrified* - as he has never been. Not only because he feels more powerless and utterly helpless than he has ever felt - and worse, unable to protect Arthur! But also because the longer Arthur stays in his body, the more chances he has to find out that he has magic!? (And even though Merlin has nearly told Arthur, once? He is still not ready for him to know right now… Will after all didn’t lie to protect Merlin’s secret on his deathbed for Merlin to take chances with his life so soon after…)

Merlin though decides to push his panic aside for the moment: he simply MUST focus. No matter which sorcerer has this week decided to deal with the Pendragon line once and for all, Arthur’s life is undoubtedly in the balance; and that’s dearer to Merlin than all the magic in the world - included his own.

Because Merlin’s life *has* tilted, on that rocky beach by The Great Seas of Meredor.

Merlin’s earnest readiness to lay his life down to save Arthur’s had been instinctive, beyond doubt visceral; and the concrete force of the impulse had surprised him. Because it hadn’t been related to his first supposed then anyway indeed wished upon destiny. It had merely been a reflex, a spontaneous reaction: what he had wanted to do; more than what he ought to do. And Merlin had realized right then that he had, somehow, but undeniably, actually come to *LOVE* Arthur? He had known, for some time, that he liked him. And he had felt oddly pleased when Arthur had turned up at Ealdor - maybe Arthur liked him too? But if your first thought when someone is threatened is 'I’d rather die than see him die’? Well, there is a kind of selfishness, even in seflessness, that goes beyond 'liking’, right…

It shouldn’t have been such a shocking revelation though. Sure, Arthur could be a spoiled, royal prat; an irritating, pompous ass; an arrogant, moronic bully - to list but the top of the iceberg of his massive shortcomings, and without even mentioning the complete dollophead he could sometimes be. But Arthur could also be truly brave, honest, and kind; willing not only to trust but also to actually defend the words of mere servants, ready to defy his father’s orders in order to save a child’s life, and volunteering to help a village not even belonging to his Kingdom, to note only a few examples. Also: at some point, Merlin had realized how what could at first appear as near manhandling tactility was in fact just Arthur’s disguised way to show (or ask?) affection (because one probably just doesn’t walk around asking for cuddles while growing up between Uther’s judging cold glares and Morgana’s sharp witty tongue; and the physical occasional playfulness of the knights training must have seemed like the only way to go…). And last but not least: Merlin owed Arthur his life - if Arthur hadn’t gone looking for a Mortaeus flower… So, in short: of course Merlin had gotten fond of the man. For his own values; and not because he was meant to be the other side of his coin or something. And notwithstanding how so annoyingly beautiful he always was (for the record on that particular subject: Gwen is so adorably beautiful, and Morgana so petrifyingly beautiful).

But, as Arthur - bound to be King one day Arthur - hadn’t even hesitate before choosing to sacrifice himself, in order to fix what he had recognized to be his error, instead of using the (even offered) life of a simple servant? Well… There is a difference still between having the conviction that Arthur is a good man ready to fight for the greater good, even knowing it could be his death; and knowing as a FACT that Arthur *is* a good man ready to *die* for the greater good, even knowing it *will* be his death. And you bet having been proven *exactly* how pure of heart Arthur intrinsically is has only cemented that burgeoning love deeper into Merlin’s heart - simply; truly; and maybe irrevocably. Merlin would now willingly die a thousand deaths to save his Prince.

(Feel free to shout with me about 1.11 because *MAJOR FEELS*!)

(And then hug me as I shamelessly cry because this is still NOTHING next to what’s to come - aka Arthur becoming ACHINGLY beautiful, as Merlin turns ready to KILL a thousands times to save his King, blackening his own heart in the process and thinking himself then unworthy of Arthur’s love because Arthur is just so BRIGHT; but wishing for it nonetheless?)

IV. PLANNING (MERLIN POV)

Arthur, miraculously (even though understandably; because he must be shaken too, right), is unaware of Merlin’s internal crisis as he shares what he’s uncovered until now: “It seems to be just us. The kitcheners and the guards all seem to be themselves.”

“So. Whoever has done this is targetting you - personnally.”

“Nice to see your wits are still so very particularly sharp, Merlin. Is there any reason for the one behind all this to be targetting you?”

It is beyond odd to *hear* Arthur’s usual tone in his own voice; but Merlin still has the grace to sigh, before pushing his point further: “But why you?”

“Well, obviously *you*’ve forgotten, but I am Camelot’s Crown Prince, responsib-.”

“Which is exactly what’s bothering me!” Merlin can’t help but interject. “Why take on the Prince when you can take on the King?”

“Oh… Do you think… Could someone be… training on us, then? Before attacking-”

“I honestly have no idea. Maybe you got targetted indeed because you’re head of security. We shouldn’t rule anything out.”

Arthur brings his fist down on the table, determinedly: “Well, whatever the evil plan might be, we just cannot permit for it to work. We’ll have to find a way to stop this nonsense - no offense. In the meantime, we must act as if nothing unusual is going on. It might be for the time being our best chance at keeping Camelot safe - making whoever planned this think the spell didn’t work?”

Merlin can’t help but let out a helpless (yet realistic) sigh: “That’s… a lot; on both accounts.”

Arthur echoes with a helpless sigh of his own: “I know.”

But if they are to keep up pretenses, Merlin is going to need to be prepared: “So. What’s on your agenda for today - besides the monthly open pleas this morning and the daily training this afternoon?”

“Nothing particular. And there are no coming feasts nor abroad visits planned for the coming time, thankfully. (worried sigh) But there’s concil, tomorrow.”

“Well, let’s start at the beginning. I should do fine enough for the pleas. It’s mostly your father’s duty; your presence is required, of course, but mostly you’re to hear and listen…” Fear grips Merlin at once: “But it’s public; so it would be a great opportunity to try to murder you!” He MUST protect Arthur’s body: “Will you please go fetch your chainmail in my room?”

“No.”

The tone is definitive, and Merlin is torn between begging, or growing impatient - because Arthur can be so obtuse sometimes (now really isn’t the time for Arthur to be feeling indignation about being ordered around like a simple servant; even though he *is* one at the moment - not that Merlin would ever think he was one, of course - but what if Arthur thinks he does and enjoys the chance at some payback?): “Arthur, please (again?). It’s the expected type of errands of the body you momentarily (because it MUST be momentarily, right?) inhabit - I can’t - You’re the target. I need your chainmail. I have no fighting skills, nor any kind of skills really to protect yo-”

“I cannot be seen wandering the castle in my chainmail without reason, Merlin; it would attract attention”, Arthur interrupts in a somehow gentler tone; and Merlin realizes that Arthur hadn’t registered at first how Merlin’s concern was about him, more than himself - and is obviously humbled by the thought. “Court clothes are required, anyway. We’re not supposed to look threatening, nor threatened, when our subjects come to present their wishes,” Arthur pursues, killing any possible protest in the bud. “Besides, the guards will be present. So don’t worry too much about anything happening to us”, Arthur ends in a lower voice; as if the last part had been more a thought to reassure himself than a phrase meant to be uttered - and Merlin just has to savour that precious 'us’…

Merlin though isn’t reassured enough about his Prince’s safety: “Please (yes, that’s thrice; adamant much?) Sire, at least allow me to wear your thickest leather under your tunic” - willing his voice to make it sound like a not-to-be-denied demand more than a true question.

Arthur holds his gaze; and it actually feels like a blessing when he finally relents: “As you wish; but it won’t be comfortable against naked skin.”

“I’ll manage.” Merlin can’t help but fidget some before pursuing - asking Arthur to do what is and should be *his* work feeling not only weird but even wrong: “But I’ll need your help to tie it in the back?”

Arthur dimissively tousles his hair, grumbling: “I *know*, Merlin.” 'My clothes’ going unsaid.

Merlin can be relieved about one thing, at least: Arthur obviously isn’t piqued about doing a servant’s work…

Merlin picks out the largest fitting of Arthur’s clothes. He puts on the braies and trousers while still wearing the gown, respectfully tying the belt blindly around his waist. He puts on socks, and shoes. Then only does he take the gown off, and turns his back towards Arthur so that he may help with adjusting the leather’s straps.

A surprised but definitely pleased whisper (“Impressive, ain’t I?”) echoes in Merlin’s ears, as the Prat Prince seems apparently unable not to comment about his damn broad back, angling Merlin shortly that way and this way as if to assess it even better.

'Believe me, I know’, Merlin can’t refrain from thinking; feeling a blush coming over his face, and thankful that Arthur is too busy looking at his own back to notice any of it.

“I think I might even have outgrown Sir Leon - in width at least if not in height”, Arthur concludes proudly before finally starting to work the ties - leaving Merlin suddenly ashamed of his initial internal reprimand, and oddly upset. Of course Arthur would only wish to see in his physique the strength of a warrior. Of course his first thought, when finally able to actually see his own back, would be to compare it to his given models - the Knights; and most of all among them, to his own chosen model, Leon - both the noblest and strongest of them all, yet young enough to play the part of the older brother Arthur could look up to while growing up… No one has probably ever told him that he is beautiful, Merlin realizes sadly. But the fact that Arthur is so unaware only makes him even more beautiful in Merlin’s eyes…

Merlin forces himself to tease Arthur, hiding his turmoil under their usual banter: “Well, I could ask Gabriel to take measurements, if you so badly wish-”

“Shut up, Merlin”, accompanied by a rewarding hit in the back of his right shoulder, which Merlin gladly revels in, no matter the unusual fist size. This, no matter their predicament, feels normal.

And in that short moment of normalcy, when everything feels just right as Arthur ends tying the leather, Merlin notices something he hasn’t noticed before, when all he could feel was STRESS.

Oh no.

“Arthur?” Merlin can’t help but wince at the intimidated tone in his voice as he turns around; and Arthur is eyeing him now with furrowed eyebrows. “I think I need - I mean you need… to… have to go?”

Arthur makes a face - with his face; except it still looks somehow like a typical outraged Arthur face (damn, this is just too confusing…): “Merlin!”

“He! Do not look at me like this is my fault! It’s *YOUR* body! Maybe you shouldn’t have drun-”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have brought a full pitcher at dinner then!”

They eye each other, both unrelenting over who is at fault.

And Merlin can’t help but think that somehow he is, indeed, no matter what. Because there are levels in intimacy; and he IS definitely crossing a line. There is a difference between being around and trying to avoid his gaze when Arthur walks in and out of his bath, or applying Gaius’s healing balm to bruises on Arthur’s back because it’s a place Arthur can’t reach on his own, and, well… watching and touching Arthur’s *manhood*, even if only for urinating, technically ensuring no mess is done while doing it?

Arthur suddenly sighs though, and his voice sounds kinder as he offers: “This will surely happens a few times before we sort it all out, huh. To the both of us. So. How should we proceed?”

Merlin scratches his head, summoning some courage: “Do you want to… hold-”

“Your hand, Merlin!”, Arthur demonstrates, lifting the would-be-culprit in the air and wiggling its fingers for good measure; and that’s a 'No way’ if Merlin ever heard one…

“Would you rather it to be your hand-”

“It’s *your* hand right now!” Indeed. So. Another 'No way’.

But suddenly Merlin has a solution, of sort: “What if I… go sit into the stream? There’s a quiet spot not so far from the castle I found while collecting herbs for Gaius… If I hurry I still can make it back before the pleas.”

Arthur actually claps his hands, obviously relieved: “Sometimes, I swear, you are a genius.” He hurries over, handing Merlin his tunic and grabbing the Pendragon red doublet before marching out: “Let’s go!”

“You’re coming?” (hastening to put the tunic on and grabbing a towel before following)

“Well, as I just said, it’s bound to happen to me - you - so I might just as well tag along, and know where it is.”

Once out of potentially spying ears reach, they plan the day further.

“We HAVE to tell Gaius, at the least, about our situation: no one will contest his word if he says you’re not to train for a while - because honestly how am I supposed to spare with your Knights? They will notice right away that something isn’t right. And, well…”

Merlin hesitates, not wanting to incriminate Gaius in any way. As it turns out, he doesn’t have to:

“You’re right. Besides, Gaius has heard about a lot of… stuff, in all his years. I was planning to go around Jeffrey and look for the forbidden books, but I have no ideas how many volumes are hidden down here, nor where they even *are* to start with… If anyone we know might have even the slightest clue about how to fix our problem, it’s him; even if it’s only about finding an adequate book.”

Merlin nods, relieved: “So. After the pleas, I stage a fall, and we go to Gaius, who tells you’re not to train for the time being. That leaves the rest of the day free, both for looking up about our situation, and briefing me on what I should be aware of for tomorrow’s concil. Do you address things in an established order; who’s whose specialisms; what you discussed by the latest concils which might be brought up again tomorrow; and so on…”

“I’m supposed to make the battle plans, Merlin? But as far as plans go, I have to admit this isn’t a bad one. Except I’m not you; I do not trip on my feet twice a day. So. I’ll make you fall. That’s more plausible.”

“No way! You’ll end up in the stocks!” Merlin realizes how - no matter what he might have been thinking just a few months ago - he simply doesn’t want Arthur in the stocks. Ever. “Which is NOT where you should be spending your afternoon.” Merlin quickly amends; hiding his concern under logic’s sake, knowing it to be the best way to persuade Arthur anyway. “So. You fall. I try to help you. But we both fall. I’m clumsy, as ever; you’re noble, as always; everyone get to laugh at me, and praise you; and your father might skip punishing me for you getting hurt in the process, as you obviously didn’t want me hurt to start with?” (pause, before adding earnestly, yet fiercely, as Merlin isn’t able to tone back the surge of threat in his eyes at the mere idea of having anyone disrespecting Arthur in that way) “If he doesn’t though, I’ll stand guard next to you.”

“Would you?” Arthur seems surprised; but touched: “Well, who knows, maybe I’ll return the favor the next time.”

Merlin can’t refrain a whine: “The next time?”

“Even I can’t save you from my father’s wrath every time; it’s bound to happen, either from your two left foots or your snarky mouth.”

They can hear the water now, and Arthur accelerates towards it, as Merlin lags behind, unable not to smile:

“I guess I’m supposed to say 'thank you’?”

“I might have forgotten to mention I’ll probably throw something in your face myself at the last moment. Prince’s privilege and all that…” - Arthur even turns towards him, giving him one of his goofy faces to boot (Merlin didn’t know *his* face could do *that*, by the way).

Merlin just keeps on smiling anyway. He probably hasn’t felt that brightly, positively, ridiculously happy since “I’m rehiring you - because someone needs to muck out my stables”. Arthur has a particular way to express fondness, and Merlin wouldn’t change it for the world.

V. THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT MERLIN (ARTHUR POV)

Arthur is the first to reach the stream, and crouches down to test the water with his hand.

“It’s cold”, he warns, while Merlin walks in a straight line towards a tree with a low hanging branch and starts undressing - he does come here often, clearly.

Merlin shrugs: “Be grateful it’s not winter yet. Try bathing around Imbolc - that’s cold.” Merlin goes on; stating an afterthought while hanging his pants on the branch: “Still worth it though; everything here is just more… alive, you know. You don’t get that indoors.”

And Arthur has bathed on patrols enough to know that, honestly?: he prefers his warm baths. He can’t help but feel a smile on his face though at the words; they are so intrinsically Merlin.

Arthur had been struck, when they had met. No one had ever defied him, in any way. And it had stung; Arthur could admit. So. He had not been displeased at all when he had overmastered the fool and turned him over. The affront had been too public to be allowed to slide, and Arthur had decided he wouldn’t dwell a further thought about the goodhearted fool (Arthur knew terrorrizing people wasn’t right. He tended though to react badly whenever anyone acted cowardly (which was, well, all the time, around him); especially as he was actually *praised* for it somehow), but fool nonetheless, who should have known to mind his own business…

It had been nothing though in comparison to his surprise when their paths had crossed again. Arthur hadn’t been able NOT to taunt him - hoping, somehow… But the last thing Arthur had been actually expecting had been for Merlin to act *exactly the same*. Surely, now that he knew who he was, he would just scrabble around him as anyone else - not defy him again, knowing it would get him in chains again, right? Arthur had been *delighted* by Merlin’s untamable fire - the words, and then the look he had thrown at him while taking his jacket off? (Maybe Arthur had just been waiting all his life for someone to finally stand his ground to him, indeed…) Of course Arthur had let him go without punishment that second time - and any time since then (which was honestly difficult, as Merlin - always fighting for what was right more than for himself Merlin - frequently got riled up, be it in private OR IN PUBLIC, by literally anyone and anything).

Since he has been to Ealdor though, Arthur can’t help but see things under a new light.

Hunith is everything Arthur believes a loving mother to be. But there had been no father at home, nor any mention of one. (Arthur knows the sting of this kind of wound - missing a parent; and he had been saddened, as he had realized that Merlin bore such a wound too.) Arthur hadn’t dared to ask, but he had wondered: did Merlin ever got a father to start with; or had he been abandoned - intentionally or not? (Arthur knows how even an accident still feels akin to a betrayal in a child’s heart.) Which would be the worst anyway? But what if Merlin had been bullied through his childhood because of it? - children could be particularly malicious, when they intended to… Was it how Merlin had learned, the hard way, that fighting - both with his words and his fists - was the only way to end the pestering? And had decided it wouldn’t be only for his own sake, but for the sake of anyone who might ever need help? Was it what had brought Merlin close to Will - the fact that they both had lost their father? Was it the reason Will had wanted to learn magic to start with? (Arthur knows the near constant anger, too. As does Merlin, obviously.)

Arthur can’t help but feel grateful anew, somehow, and no matter what, still, that Merlin has had Will around: surely, no matter how bad the fights Merlin had jumped into, Will must have kept him safe - at least safe enough - *with his magic*. The thought had been unbidden the first time it had occured, and had definitely surprised Arthur; but he hadn’t been able to deny that it was what he truly felt indeed.

Because of course Arthur had come to care for Merlin. Isn’t it why he had gone to Ealdor to start with after all…

Merlin.

Definitely not an ordinary manservant. And probably not the champion manservant by any book (fast learner, and smart, and hard working, he was; but only about what *he* deemed important - hence for example his total disregard for any kind of storage? - but Arthur generally agreed with what Merlin deemed important or not anyway). But honestly the only manservant Arthur now could imagine ever having - or ever want to have.

Because Arthur likes Merlin as his manservant exactly just the way he is, and would now never wish for another - no matter (and specifically because of) how well-schooled and zealous to satisfy his every need (and whim) that hypothetic other might be… Arthur now sees what others might judge flaws as assets (Merlin’s clumsiness and chattiness are more endearing and uplifting than unefficient, especially as his opinions always sound reasonable; his sarcasm and insults are a sure way to keep Arthur’s head from ever getting inflated; and his challenging manners push Arthur to do and be better - from training with the knights to saving people’s lifes), and what others might judge insubordinate as being treated, for once, finally, as an equal, somehow (even though they both know and acknowledge they aren’t) - no matter whenever it comes out at Arthur’s expanse too, food getting shoved into his mouth and getting unceremoniously pulled out of bed included in their everyday banter, as Merlin can give just as much as he gets indeed. But that’s maybe what Arthur values the most: how Merlin’s respect feels earned and honest; neither forced by birthright or fear for repercussions, nor cajoling nor calculated.

Arthur has never had a private servant for longer than a year - his Father’s rule; but you bet Arthur is decided about keeping Merlin at his side when the year would end. He will have to strategize; he will need irrefutable arguments. But if he plays his cards well - and Merlin never ceases to hand him over cards to play - Arthur has no doubt that his Father will actually allow it: it’s in the best interest of the Kingdom after all.

Merlin.

A whirlwind. Always animated, always busy; never still, even when he’s doing nothing. But always so expressive - so easy to read - a fact Arthur has come not only to appreciate after decades around perpetually guarded scheming faces, but even to *trust*.

A chatty nature-loving poet with dangly limbs, gentle heart, and the brightest smile Arthur has ever seen - Arthur has come to know. Yet the sassiest mouth and the most unrelenting fighter Arthur has ever met; his utter lack of skills balanced by sheer defiance - Arthur has learned right from the start. (Merlin just never backs off, no matter the odds; which is very stupid, but also very brave.)

A confusing, clashing mess of contraries. But an admirable man, with a beautiful soul.

And you bet Arthur wouldn’t have him be any different.

Arthur shakes his head. Maybe - just like with his two left feet - it isn’t Merlin’s choice to be such a poet all the time. Arthur hasn’t been inside Merlin’s body for more than a few hours, and already he is turning into a maudlin bard himself, huh…

Arthur sighs; bringing himself back to the present - only to be struck by Merlin yet again.

Merlin has by now disrobed of everything except for the leather, which he has rolled up to his chest (logic; it would take too much time to tie it up all once more), and the tunic, which he now holds tightly in a bundle against his chest too, even if (and no doubt exactly because) it must get in his vision range as he enters the water. The lengths Merlin now goes again, simply to avoid to *see* - treating his body with the utmost respect, even when it is betraying him?

It should be insignificant, but the whole endeavour screams once more just how *devoted* Merlin always is, to him; and it is honestly dumbfounding.

He has been willing to die for me. And more than once.

The thought slices through Arthur’s mind; as usual charged with guilt, and heartbreaking, yet oddly sweet.

Arthur doesn’t understand: he has truly done very little to earn such high esteem - and that’s an euphemism. Getting the man in the stocks? Letting him drink poison destined for him? Having his only friend die?

But you bet Arthur cherishes it all the same. And he wants - oh, he WANTS - to be worthy of it. Not because it’s what he ought to do, repaying kindness with kindness, loyalty with loyalty; and definitely not because he owes Merlin a friend - you can’t replace a friend (even if Arthur never actually had a friend, he knows that it’s supposed to be a special, powerful, unique bond). Not even because Merlin does indeed makes him want to be a better man - even if that’s true, and definitely positive for the future of Camelot. But simply because HE. WANTS. TO. Arthur has realized by now how he is always tempted, whenever they are together: either to act silly in order to cause a smile; or to provoke Merlin until he bites. Both reactions feel peculiarly satisfying; spreading a pleasant warmth through his whole being - and Arthur just always has to smile…

So.

On impulse, Arthur disrobes Merlin’s lower half and enters the (indeed very cold) water while holding his tunic bundled up too, keeping his eyes stubbornly fixed on his own body sinking until the water reaches up to above its waist, as Merlin sits on his knees in the middle of the stream. And yes, the fact that Arthur has just chosen to abide by Merlin’s stubborn dedication on that matter, instead of letting his perpetual interest about literally everything run free, for once, (because yes, if he hadn’t witnessed Merlin’s commitment, Arthur might have taken a look at Merlin’s body, out of sheer curiosity; he wouldn’t though, not from now on…), is both a pledge and a self-serving whim.

Merlin, drawn by the sounds, turns to him with questioning eyebrows, and Arthur sheepishly drops on his knees next to him: “I thought it unfair to let you have all the fun on your own. Now, ready to scare the fish?”

Merlin howls with laughter. Arthur decides it’s definitely worth playing silly while freezing his ass off.

(Imbolc = 31 january)

Feel free to come and fangirl with me over 1.01 and then scream with me over 1.10 !

On a side note, I’m sorry but not sorry about that fish line? It was *totally* unplanned but then it just rolled out and I went 'yep, sure, arthur would, totally; it stays!’ ?

VI. THE PRINCE’S PART (ALTERNATE ARTHUR/MERLIN POV)

They get out; get dried; put their clothes back on. Merlin ties the towel to the branch, for future use.

Then, on their way back to the castle, Arthur asks Merlin about his agenda for the day.

Merlin gives him a look - like he’s unsure whether Arthur means it. Arthur gives him a look back - meaning he isn’t joking indeed.

Merlin smiles, eyes full of mirth: “Your chambers are a complete mess, your clothes need washing, your boots need cleaning, your dogs need exercising, your fireplace needs sweeping, your bed needs changing and, oh, *someone* needs to muck out your stables.” Merlin sobers up. “But we have more pressing matters at hand; so I think you can consider yourself free for the day.”

Arthur is taken aback. He recognizes his own words, of course. It’s both baffling and humbling - that Merlin can quote him, months later? and that Merlin has omitted one part and one part only in his old speech, because they both know his armour doesn’t need any repairing (the devotion Merlin shows those metal pieces echoing the devotion he shows to Arthur himself)? Arthur had first planned to give a playful thankful bow; but it would feel wrong.

“So. I’ll go bother Geoffrey. Try to get him to show me where the secret books are hidden. I’ll tell him Gaius has found a strange herb and wants to make sure it isn’t dangerous or something…”

Merlin has to give Arthur that: he is indeed insightful.

The mention of Gaius’s name though has Merlin slightly panicking again: Gaius doesn’t know yet about their current situation. What if he mentions 'something’ upon walking on Arthur thinking he is him? No. Merlin has to be there when they’ll get to see Gaius.

“Speaking about Gaius? Stay clear from his chambers. I doubt he’ll be as magnanimous as I am. He’ll do that thing with his eyebrow and have you pick herbs and brewing healing potions and concocting ointments before you even got a chance to tell him about our predicament - he’s really dedicated in my education as a physician, you know…”

“And I believe you rather enjoy it.”

“I do, indeed. I mean… It’s fascinating - do you know that the same stuff can cure you or kill you sometimes, depending on the dosis? Anyway, who wouldn’t want to know how to save lives?” Merlin can’t help but twitch. “I’m not sure I’m any good at it though…”

There is a flash of guilt in Merlin’s disheartened eyes, and Arthur realizes two things:

1) Merlin feels responsible for having been unable to save his friend Will. Which is understandable, because Merlin must have gathered by now some knowledge from Gaius’s lessons; but heartbreaking - because Arthur has seen enough arrow’s wounds to know that Will’s could never have healed - and perplexing - because Will has died to save *him*, not Merlin; so why would Merlin think the guilt was his to start with? and how come Arthur has never felt like Merlin might blame him for it either?

2) Merlin’s face is always *transparent* - a fact Arthur truly appreciates on Merlin’s face - but a fact that could turn out problematic, now that it’s on his own face…

“Let’s get back to my chambers. There is still something you should master better before the pleas.”

And that’s how Merlin finds himself positioned by Arthur in front of a mirror.

“What do you see, Merlin?” Arthur asks.

“Well, you?” Merlin feels he’s missing Arthur’s point, but he has no clue…

“Do you? Because I see my body, I see my clothes; but I do not see the Prince of Camelot - I’d like to think I play it better than that - and I must be, because my Father would not allow *this* I assure you - at least I hope or the kingdom is doomed.” Arthur ends on a sigh, shakes his head, and then turns commanding eyes back towards Merlin via the mirror. “Close your eyes, Merlin. Think of me. I mean, *picture* me; and more especially, picture me at any official activity you’ve served me through. See how I walk, how I stand, how I sit, how I move, how I look?”

Merlin does as asked, searching through his memories. After a while, he nods.

“Got it?”

“I think?”

“Then open your eyes, Merlin. What do you see?”

Merlin understands now. He can’t help but sigh helplessly. “Not the Prince of Camelot. Obviously. I’m sorry Arthur, I guess I’m just not… majestic enough to play you.”

“It’s not that hard, Merlin. Come on; I’ll explain. Ready?” Arthur grins at him via the mirror, exuding confidence - trust in him?; and Merlin would face (has faced) monsters to earn it indeed.

Merlin nods, their eyes still linked via the mirror.

“First thing first? You’re slouching.”

“Yes. (Merlin tries not to slouch; but is still not satisfied with the result) I think though the biggest problem is- There’s something wrong with your face.”

“Because you wear your heart on it, Merlin; and you mustn’t. Believe me, you do not want to be lectured for hours about this by my Father…”

Arthur moves away, and Merlin can’t see him anymore in the mirror. His voice is directing though, and Merlin focuses on the words to school his face.

“You’re a prince, so you *must* always look like one. No matter what you do, you must always, *always*, look confident. That’s the first strength of a kingdom - the strenghth of its ruler. That’s what keeps your people safe. So. Chin up, Merlin. Square your shoulders. Stand tall - stand *proud*.”

Merlin realizes the words are not Arthur’s; they’re Uther’s. He wonders how often indeed Arthur has heared those words - most probably often enough to give himself a internal pep talk before any official anything apparently…

“That’s better; but still not good enough. No matter how you feel inside must not show, Merlin. When you’re tired, hide it. When you’re sick, hide it. When you hurt, hide it. When you’re stressed, hide it. When you worry, hide it. When you doubt, hide it. When you’re bored, and even more when you disagree; hide it - it’s disrespectful; and we do not want wounded pride to fester, don’t we Merlin? When you’re afraid, definitely hide it. When you’re sad, hide it. And the trickiest part maybe: when you’re happy, hide it too - or risk whatever is making you happy to be taken away: weakening you is weakening the kingdom; and its enemies will never hesitate to bring you down, if you let them see even an inch of an opportunity.”

Merlin is shaken. He feels guilty, somehow. This is, certainly, too intimate. Merlin feels like he’s intruding. This feels even more trespassing than being in Arthur’s body. It’s like being forced in Arthur’s head, without his consent. It’s nauseating.

“Again, Merlin. Your eyes; focus. It’s a part; but it’s part of your job. So for the love of Camelot, Merlin, please try harder. Your people reckon on you to lead them and protect them; so it’s your duty to be a leader, and to be strong. Work hard; harder than anyone else. You *must* be an example, an inspiration. You must be admirable in everything, so that your people will follow you everywhere. But you must lead, Merlin; never follow. A ruler is alone - *must* be alone. Do not trust anyone; at least do not trust anyone more than anyone else, and surely not more than you trust yourself. Your own judgement must *never* be clouded.”

Merlin can’t help but turn towards Arthur at the words, both in disbelief and in ache… Because Merlin has grown up hiding, but he had never realized that Arthur had, too; and maybe even more than him. Arthur must not only always pretend and perpetually watch over his shoulder; he must pretend and watch over his shoulder *alone*. And Merlin can only imagine how hard that must have been, and be. Back at Ealdor, Merlin had (and still has) his loving mother, and he had Will. Even here, now, Merlin has Gaius. And somehow, yes: he has Arthur too, Merlin suddenly realizes; and then feels ashamed, because he can’t help but feel blessed - Arthur trusts him. Because Arthur is definitely less guarded around him, isn’t he? When it’s just the two of them; Arthur and Merlin? Arthur laughs, Arthur doubts, Arthur *shows*; maybe not everything - but that’s probably not possible as he is so trained - but something at least always shines through; even if it’s by putting his feet on his face… But Merlin knows now, how rare and precious it truly is. They can never be friends, maybe; but Arthur trusts him. That’s undeniable; and that’s everything, somehow.

“Do not look at me; look at the mirror, Merlin. Harden your eyes. Smile; always politely, even when you don’t want to smile at all; more genuinely, when it’s true - but never let it go up to your eyes. First thing about tomorrow too; as we’re at it. Hear everyone out. Listen with your full attention to everyone; whether you agree or not. Never decides right away; except if it’s necessary, in war time. Your decisions must be thought upon; never a spur of the moment. If something is unclear, do not let it show during concil. If you favor a position, do not let it show during concil. If you disagree, do not let it show during concil. You need further advice, or even only further information? Seek the appropriate person in private; ask man to man. They will see the honor in it if it’s positive, and be thankful you kept it private if it’s negative. Also. You must be ready to be impartial, Merlin; because you do not need to be kind, but you must always be fair. You may - and you will, unfortunately - make mistakes; but never ackowledge them. Fix them. If you can’t; repair as much damage as possible. Learn from your errors, in order to never make the same mistake again. But never apologize. Come on Merlin; I’m sure you can do it. You’re nearly there.”

More over, Merlin realizes the Arthur he gets to see nowadays - the true Arthur - has always been there already, even under the pretense of the moron. Kilgarrah is wrong. His destiny isn’t to change Arthur; because there is nothing to change. Arthur already has everything to be a great king, the greatest king, all on his own.

And so, Merlin is *angry*. He has now yet another reason to despise Uther, it seems - scarring his child on the inside in such a way. Of course Arthur always feels inadequate; of course Arthur feels lacking; of course the only bond Arthur values is the one with his fellow knights - ride to glory or death, together? It’s the only bond Uther has authorized him to authorize himself to ever have… But Merlin’s anger is a good thing, apparently - because whenever Merlin thinks about Uther, Arthur finds that he’s playing the Prince’s part better.

“There Merlin, you have it. See? Right there. Lock it; just like that. That’s good enough for anyone looking today; because believe me, someone *will* be looking, even if only my Father and not the one who switched us or anyone else with ill intentions - there is *always* *someone* looking, Merlin.”

Fine. Think about Uther; until the pleas are done. Merlin can do it; and he’ll gladly do it. He’ll probably gladly do anything; for Arthur. He can still have a cry or hit a wall afterwards, right…

Arthur needs a hug. I volunteer. Anyone with me? (besides Merlin, obviously…)

VII. DOOMED (ARTHUR POV)

With a last commanding yet encouraging nod, Arthur leaves Merlin by the Great Hall’s entrance and starts to make his way towards the Library.

He is stopped by Merlin’s name being called out twice - because he has failed to react right away; Arthur chastises himself. It is the headmaster recruiting hands: his Father wants his bath ready when the pleas end.

Arthur doesn’t want to bring Merlin in trouble, of course; so he takes on the ordered job - after all, how complicated can it be?

He is paired with a newcomer answering the name of George who looks up to him as if he holds the sun: the Prince’s manservant! Which isn’t that bad. Until he starts, seemingly embarrassed but curious all the same, to ask questions like “Is the Prince as terrible as they say?” or “Is it true he throws knives?” and such? Arthur tries to explain that the training field is, well, to train? He isn’t sure the message gets across though, as George only holds his eyes with a perplexed gaze…

Arthur can’t help but hope that Merlin at least understands that he’s not only training himself but also trying to get Merlin to know how to defend himself if not to attack whenever he comes at him with a mace or anything… He should maybe make his intentions clearer, apparently…

Anyway. After yet another round of carrying buckets full of cold or warmed-up water up and down and left and right, Arthur realises there is more to it than it looks; and the bath is only half full still…

And when they’re nearly done? His three coworkers and the headmasteer seem satisfied, but Arthur can’t help but think while bringing up the last two buckets that they achieved nothing more than a luke warm bath with a clean but no particular scent. Merlin’s baths are definitely of a superior category on both accounts, and Arthur doesn’t know if he should feel guilty and spoiled for regularly enjoying better baths than the king himself, or more amazed or worried about Merlin’s bath-preparing skills (is he even thinking about his safety? he wouldn’t actually carry boiling water up the stairs, would he?)

Arthur decides he should address the issue. And maybe take baths downstairs from now on just in case - a little backroom near the kitchen would be more practical than his chambers, wouldn’t it? When the space isn’t needed for banquets preparations and such of course…

Arthur misses the first step towards the second floor (it’s actually the eleventh time today that he misses a step - he still isn’t used to Merlin’s feet). This time though, his balance is too lost for him to compensate and he falls backwards, landing on his butt and ready to get soaked and hit by the water and buckets he has released when instinctively freeing his hands (one to help catch his fall; one to protect himself from the falling projectiles). Except nothing comes: no water, no hit - and no falling sound either. And when Arthur takes a look? The buckets and water are… floating above his head?

Arthur gasps in surprise, his mind going both blank and reeling…

Then only does Arthur finally get drenched and hit on the shoulder.

Arthur blinks. Twice.

What has just happened isn’t normal, at all. Only - only magic could make such a thing possible!

Arthur looks around, instinctively - scanning for a threat.

He is alone; the corridors are empty as far as he can see, and he hears no voices, nor steps.

Which is good, because no one is attacking him then.

Which is the worst though - because if there is no one around… then the only person responsible for what he has just witnessed must be - is - HIMSELF?!

Arthur gasps again; this time in panick.

His first instinct is denial. But he knows what he saw. And somehow, it just makes sense, doesn’t it?

It’s not the body of the Prince that whoever switched him and Merlin is after. It’s his mind…

Put him in the body of a servant, give him magic, and sooner or later (and most probably sooner) he is bound to die by his Father’s law. What is he supposed to say in his defense? That he IS the Prince, in another body which had been given an ounce of magic on the sole purpose of getting him executed? Who would ever believe him…

In the meantime, the schieming sorcerer must have judged that a servant in his body may be too delighted by the upgrade in status to be a threat to his plans and would gladly unknowingly collaborate, on top of being totally untrained and incompetent at any of his duties.

Then? One only has to kill the King, either by making him ‘ill’ or using the same trick again and - for sure - Camelot is doomed to get wiped out from the map by the first band of Saxons passing by (and most probably enticed to pass by very soon after its King's death): its only true heir gone, and the supposed one obviously improper to defend it. All of it without casualties on the attacking side, and without anyone knowing how it all came to be, which means no one, even loyal to Camelot, would have a reason to stand against the new regime put in place.

Arthur is more afraid than he has ever been - and he has been in combat enough for that fact to mean something. He feels crushed; defeated, even before the battle - and honestly? He has never despised himself that much. No matter that he has never felt both so unprepared and so intrinsically useless - and not even able to trust himself: surrender is simply inexcusable. Camelot depends on it.

Besides, Arthur owes it to Merlin to fight, right. It’s after all Merlin’s body that’s to die along his spirit. Oh! The villainy, the cowardice in this attack! Use an innocent victim as a vessel to be sacrificed. Sorcerers definitely have no sense of honor indeed.

So. Arthur is angry now. A much more suited mindset, he decides - as long as he doesn’t allow it to blind him. And he won’t. Merlin’s body depends on it too.

Arthur takes a deep breath. He has been taught strategy even before he could talk, right? Time to make a plan of action.

First. He is not as alone as Camelot’s enemy has calculated him to be. He is, in fact, not alone at all. He has Merlin.

Loyal Merlin; not only willing but even devoted to getting back into his own servant body rather than happily playing the prince. Magic familiar and open-minded Merlin - which means Arthur has not only someone who won’t judge him nor fear him to confide in about his new endangering (and in so many ways) abilities, but also someone who might have some basic understanding of it; since he was Will’s friend? Heart-in-the-right-place Merlin: too kind, maybe (but he can at least get aware of it enough in order not to be lead only by it); but naturally just and fair Merlin. Brave, fierce, tenacious Merlin; too reckless though (but again: he can at least get aware of it enough in order not to be lead only by it). Ressourceful Merlin, fast-learning Merlin: he would master his body’s strength, eventually; and Leon would be here to lead the Knights in the meantime… Arthur takes an oath. Even if they fail to find a solution to their problem, Camelot won’t be left unprotected. Come what may; even the worst? Merlin *will* be ready to take his place. Having Merlin’s unique edges smoothed out feels wrong; but it just has to be for show, right?

Second. Well, there is no really second yet; at least not more than what they have already planned. They need to find some books - and pray that they will be useful. And Arthur will just have to be particularly attentive about not repeating the kind of blunder he just did with witnesses present.

Yes. Merlin. Books. Start at the beginning; and with luck, it might just work out in the end.

Arthur cleans up as best as he can, using and wringing his soaked tunic in the buckets, then runs to Merlin’s room for a set of dried clothes. Turning up to retake his place at 'Arthur’’s side while drenched would only draw unwanted attention…

So. Basically? Yep. This is a magic-reveal unreveal fic. But. I mean… It’s Arthur? Also: this fic (to me) is canon (fitting) - so it just can’t be a reveal fic. Bonus: it explains too why Arthur doesn’t get the courage-magic-strength trio hint later on. He thinks Merlin is magic; but only because there is some residual trace to sense from when his body had magic (aka this fic), not that he actually has magic still at the time… Arthur can be at the same time very aware yet very unaware, and he can be so very biased and decided to see things his way, no matter how circumvoluted, right? (Also, of course Arthur thinks in fact then that HE is magic in the trio: he was after all the one inside Merlin when his body had magic; and Merlin IS courage - Arthur has such a low self-esteem to start with…)

On a side note: Arthur would actually trust Merlin with Camelot (even despite his limits). If that doesn’t tell you all there is to tell then I don’t know how to express it. *SIGH* *GROSS SOBBING* (Gwen though is innately made to be Queen - but Arthur doesn’t know that yet. He isn’t wrong about Merlin though - for Arthur’s memory? Merlin would do his best to be a great King too, you bet…) *GROSS SOBBING AGAIN*

VIII. MERLIN'S CHAINMAIL (ARTHUR POV)

"Merlin! My boy! You're soaked! Did you provoke Arthur again and end up under the well for it this time?"

Great. Gaius sounds half amused half concerned. Does actually *everyone* think him to be a brute?

Well; nevermind. Merlin knows better; for sure - and that's what matters. Merlin is never backing away, Merlin is never really complaining nor saying no; Merlin just watches him with mirth in his challenging eyes: I dare you. Of course Arthur HAS TO then... It's like... kind of a private wordless conversation only the two of them understand. But honestly? Arthur wouldn't trespass Merlin's limits - if anything, Arthur would probably even feel guilty, if Merlin ever made one known...

But then, Gaius is patting his shoulder, pushing him towards 'his' room; and Arthur is stunned silent, as he can't help but relish on the (for him unusual) affectionate paternalistic small gesture.

"Get changed. Get warmed up. You'll tell me later. I haven't heard the bell signaling the end of the pleas, it is already so late? I've just finished Sir Kay's potion, and it should be drinken warm, as you know; so I'd better be on my way. We'll prepare Uther's draught and the balm for Little Kathleen's knee when I'm back. Also, I'm afraid I've ruined my coat; if you could work your magic on it next time you're mending Arthur's clothes, I'd be very much obliged?"

And then Gaius is gone, and Arthur is still stunned, but now for another reason - it was but a polite turn of phrase, of course, and Arthur knows Merlin just isn't capable of miracles, as proven by the state of some of his shirts - beyond mending; but Gaius would better not use some idioms that carelessly around the palace - who knows who might hear and takes things the wrong way... Arthur shakes his head as he hurries to change, feeling sorry for letting Gaius down, but not planning to stay around until Gaius comes back - he wouldn't know anyway how to prepare his Father's nor Kathleen's medicine, right...

Arthur opens Merlin's cupboard.

There are only two folded set of clothes (neckerchief included indeed), and Arthur just takes the one on top.

He's about to close the door when his eyes fall on Merlin's chainmail.

The first time Arthur had told Merlin that he had been assigned to lead some patrol, Merlin had right away asked:

"When do we leave?"

Arthur had been surprised, then had tilted his head, apprehending Merlin while explaining that coming along was to be Merlin's choice; and not per se his duty as palace manservant. They usually asked for volunteers; there was extra coin to be earned and such.

Merlin had only repeated:

"Sire; when do we leave?"

Arthur had been surprised again, but definitely pleased:

"Tomorrow at first light."

"I'd better start packing right away then. What do you need?"

After having listed their necessities, Arthur had mentioned that he would have a chainmail sent to Gaius's for Merlin to wear. Merlin had countered that he had no wish for carrying extra weight around as it would only slow him down in his chores; and that he would rather wear his everyday clothes. Arthur had said it was folly to go unprotected - they would patrol the borders, and thiefs and saxons could fall on them - and Merlin had finally relented some and agreed to wear a chainmail he would self adapt as he wished above some clothing but under his tunic. Arthur had been suspicious when Merlin had turned up the next morning without even a cap showing out, and had actually moved his neckerchief aside to make sure Merlin was wearing metal under his tunic...

Without hesitation, Arthur takes the chainmail out too, deciding he should wear it under his clothes. After all, the longer Arthur might succeed in hiding his new abilities, the more chances there are that the one responsible for their troubles might choose to turn to more expeditive measures of his own. Killing a servant might go unnoticed for awhile, and would work just as well in case whoever had planned this got tired of waiting for Arthur to betray himself and get executed. Which means that Merlin's body is just walking around as a mark waiting to get hit... and Arthur should do his best to protect it. Merlin's chainmail is barely worth its name; but it does cover his chest, belly and back, at least.

Arthur makes it back to the Great Hall right on time for the end of the pleas. It was the moment they had planned to stage for Arthur's injury; but Arthur discretly but authoritatively signals 'no' with his head. It would be too risky; what if while falling he instinctively uses magic again - in front of the whole court? Merlin gives him a curious look but follows his cue anyway, thanksfully. There is still enough time to create an excuse before training; and they can still tell he fell even without witnesses anyway. It would have been a nice added touch at make-believe, but Gaius vouching for them should be enough on its own, right?

As they walk in silence back to Gaius's quarters, Arthur feels Merlin's eyes upon him, boring and questioning. So when they pass by his chambers, Arthur takes the opportunity for privacy. Once behind closed doors, Arthur leads them to the most private corner, as far from the door as possible. Then he takes a deep breath, and turns towards Merlin to explain... everything.

He hasn't got the time to start though before Merlin hushes out, worry evident in his voice, pointing to Arthur's side where a hint of metal is visible if you pay attention - and Merlin always pays attention, doesn't he:

"Sire? Why are you wearing my chainmail?"

AN: It's canon after all that Arthur doesn't force Merlin to come along - he lets him leave before Camlann, right? But yes, this is just me giving some sense to the 'just let's Merlin accompany us everywhere without any kind of protection' unacceptable general policy. So. Merlin *has* some protection. We just don't see it. Okay? And the few times he's actually in armor on patrol, it's because they need a decoy or something... Also, just so you know: Merlin of course thought that Arthur would probably think that he didn't want to be seen in a chainmail because he didn't want to look like a soldier in order not to seem a danger nor a target, but Merlin just couldn't care: he HAD to be an unconspicuous nobody - it made it easier to protect Arthur with his magic if no one really paid attention to him. And to end with a cute note: whenever they ride out ? Arthur always checks that Merlin wears his chainmail - a fact Merlin can't help but always secretly revel in...

#merlin #merthur #merthur fic #arthur pendragon #bbc merlin #merlin fic #the body swap #the once and future fic #text #fanfic #fic #my own two spells

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i-am-1134 · 3 years

Text

The Lady of Light

In the year of my 4th 6, I worked with a man at a barbeque shop that I ended up giving many names starting with ginger and eventually Red being that he had natural red hair and so as an ice breaker I liked filling his head with celtic lore and stories of red headed giants, attempting to break through his firm stances of skepticism. He had a very healthy way of dealing with knowledge, someone who clearly had no internal dispute with cognitive dissonance. I would draw conversations into topics leading to a frame of reference for some of my “bizzare” theories. Like clockwork he would say a little something like “Bullshit, total bullshit. Show me some proof.” in which id find a direction of knowledge to lead the way. He would come back and say either “Ok you got a point there.” or “I see where you get your ideas now but there are holes”. Once I figured out how open he was willing to be we began swapping hallucinogenic trips stories and he eventually said “Have you done dmt?” I answered “ Ive never even heard of it.” then he followed with some personal stories of his own. I was thinking it sounded like the helpers in psilocybin mushrooms on mega steroids and equipped with even deeper soul revelations. I was very interested at this point and just like that he said “You wanna try it?” and so a week or so later he invited me over to his place to partake.

The setting was just right, a perfect chill in the air and at the cusp of Twilight, a synchronosity with my time of power and 2 days after my date of birth. Red Began with an instruction on how to use it “ take two big hits if you just want the experience, 3 or 4 if you got the courage, and don't ride the flame.”. So going by his instruction it became obvious that sticking to my golden rule when dealing with hallucinogens and doing more than the doctor prescribes, 5 it was. He set me up on a couch in his living room facing a 9 foot window with the shades down barely seeping through the nights light, he said “Im gonna turn off the lights and leave you here with yourself.” I said “Alone? That's cool.” wondering why. Red replied with an assurance that its the best way.

With a bowl of pot and some of these yellow tiny crystals piled on top I thought “here we go” and began taking my puffs. The taste and the smell was potent, really embrassive to the nostrils yet familiar and the smoke was hard to hold in, coughing every hit.

Out of nowhere I became very aware of my hearing and focused on this sound. I then realized I was hearing my awareness and its pitch was getting higher and higher. My Whole body felt as if it had come alive with some engulfing force and every cell in my body was expressing a fraction of my awareness while bathing in it. Suddenly my attention was drawn to these eyes popping in and out of my surroundings. They would appear closed, open, peer into me, and then disappear. Following were shapes that were swiftly changing different colors and started off as the common platonic shapes but then became strange never before seen shapes with strange curves throughout glistening the colors of the rainbow one by one yet even quicker and like that, everything went away and the whole room was dark.

“What the hell happened, is this it?” I thought to myself when a light in front of me caught my eye. It was like light coming through the creases of a door. At that point I had come to realize that what was once Red's 9 ft window with blinds was now a huge metallic looking double door arched at the tops and was what appeared to be opening, letting in more of these rays of high yellow- golden light and revealing strange engravements all over it. A shield with something in some in-discernable language to me now forgotten, a sword that appeared to have flames coming off of it, two serpents on each door side going all the way to the top that looked like they were slithering down the door. I thought to myself that it must be because of the shadows on the doors surface due to the light coming through it as the doors were opening. The word Adonai engraved at the top of the door just above the shield that were both being cut in half as the door opened.

A silhouette made out of scintillating golden light in the shape of a woman appeared in the opening and began putting her foot down out of the door way. As her foot took each step downward it became clearer to me that she was walking down a crystal stair case and every step she took her shape became not only more clearer, solid looking but was changing appearance. Her feet, her legs, hips, stomach, breasts, shoulders, hands, her neck, her hair, and even all of her facial features were changing every step she took down the crystal staircase. When the morphing was over I was looking at the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen and realized that this creature was looking for my un-dividable attention and when I say that it had it, I really mean had it. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she began to crawl to me on hands and knees, popping her shoulder blades up and down like a lion or a puma. The whole time with her eyes fixated on mine and it felt like she was peering at something right through me and behind me or deep within me, she gave a quick half cocked suspicious like smile and disappeared within a flash of an eye.

All of a sudden I saw myself flying through the door way at the speed of thought and the surrounding became very incomprehensible. Seemed as if its was an environment filled with billions of electrical currents chaotically going each and every way and as quick as it came it was gone. In an instant the surroundings became a lush jungle all around me and all the trees and plants were luminescent with rich gold light streams. It seemed that the lights were responsible for the makeup of their forms. Flowers appeared to bloom out and retract back in a synchronized fashion with one another and at the speed of my heart beat. It was like the whole jungle was swaying back and forth to the beat of my breathe. There was a stream of water translucent yet emanating gold filaments of light that appeared to flow upstream as its current flowed down. It encapsulated me for what seemed to be quite a long time when my attention suddenly peered across the stream at a cluster of gold mushrooms. The golden mushrooms were so brilliant I couldn't help but smile. As I fixated on them I started thinking to myself how delicate they must be, like the wings of a golden moth. I look up from the ground and spot a big golden toadstool in the middle and sitting on top was the woman, sitting with her legs crossed and back in her original golden silhouette.

At that moment, like a lotus flower blooming in the middle of my mind space, I received what I was to come to know as a telepathic message. Each petal was like a linear conversation that I quickly found out that I could easily decipher into a coherency I could store in memory. It was as if my entire interaction with her was pre-written somehow beyond the confines of time.

The message made me realize even more the familiarity I was having with this place and the mysterious creature that appeared as a human woman. I said in my mind “Who are you?” and through the lotus message I heard “through the many ages it took you to get back here and who I am is what you want to know?” I never realized it before but at that moment I had this profound remembrance of an age old personal history and was witnessing it in it's totality and became embarrassed of my question. “Thotek” I heard and at that same instant I recollected where I actually was. I was at the point of all knowing, absolutely anything that can possibly be known was at my door step, all I had to do was ask the question. I became nervous with haste I realized that the golden jungle was fading as their luminosity was fading, so was she, and the force that I had been feeling engulfing me was beginning to wane.

“Quickly, you don't have the energy to stay here.” she said and I knew the substance was wearing off. I was completely unprepared for this gift of a lifetime and I was blowing it and I knew I was blowing it. I decided quickly and thought to her “ How do I assemble my light saber?” and “What am I ?” I heard a soft closed mouth type female chuckle that left me contemplating on the feeling of how this creature was close to me someway and out of nowhere I watched a lightsaber being assembled out of thin air. There were three main parts made out of a complexity of many parts and I realized almost instantaneously that my previous research was way off and amounted to a pile of shit. It was overwhelming but was quickly taken from me for a time because of what happened next.

The Next thing I remember I was back on the couch, no door in front of me and pitch black yet I could still see a faint dark blue hue of the living room like a silhouette of everything making it up. I was overwhelmed and depressed, I just got the greatest gift I probably will ever know and I blew it and like that a vortice appeared. It seemed to grow pretty significant in size and then a snout came through it, followed by a head, and a long body, it was a dragon, a chinese style dragon and its entire form looked like it was formed of some kind of glowing smoke. Its whiskers, its eyes, its scales, absolutely everything that made this dragon was in full detail and it was moving very slow with an enthralling grace. Another vortice opened up in front of it and it started going through when I notice another vortice and another, until the entire room was filled with this dragon going in and out of them.

“don't be afraid, if you feel ready reach out and touch.” I heard in my mind. Its power was great I could feel it. I put what felt was my hand out and became very intimidated and much to frightened so I pulled my hand back in.

At that moment a vortice opened right in front of me and I saw the dragon coming out right at me but slowly. I couldn't seem to move my body and began to brace myself for impact in the hopes of it being enough for whatever was about to come. It opened its mouth wide, it looked as if it could swallow me in one gulp and right when my upper body was within its jaws I was completely back in this reality. The last remanance of the dragon appeared as smoke swaying past my cheek and the feeling of a tingly cold energy running throughout my entire body to my core and exiting through what felt like two unseen or etheric appendages off my upper back. All I could muster out of my mouth was “......WOOOH....”

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sapphic-apple-juice · 7 years

Text

America’s Bucket List

Main Pairing: America/Russia

Side Pairing: England/France

Rating: T

Word Count: 11,201

Warnings: some angst, some fluff, Major Character Death (??? Sorta. Maybe it should be mentions of major character death...), some mature language

Summary: Alfred recruits Russia to help him do a list of ten things.

Notes: I posted this on ao3 awhile ago then completely forgot to post it here, whoops. Also, I know that the flight times are really messed up but for the sake of plot just imagine a plane that goes really really fast and almost never needs to stop for fuel.

Alfred rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking over his shoulder almost nervously as he waited for the man to open the door. He puffed out a breath of air and watched as it left his mouth almost looking like smoke, like he used to do when he was a kid. Sometimes Alfred would pretend he was a dragon breathing fire when he did that, and other times he would pretend he was smoking. Now he was just cold.

He knew that the other man was home, but seeing as it was two in the morning he might be asleep. Alfred briefly considered just breaking in like he did back during the Cold War, but decided against it. He wanted Russia’s help, not to have the other man hate him more than he did.

It took three more knocks but the door finally opened and for a moment sapphire clashed with sleepy amethyst. Alfred smirked slightly, allowing his eyes to wander the man’s cute tousled hair, “Oh sorry, did I wake you up?” He teased. Russia frowned and closed the door.

Alfred whined and banged his fist on the door, “Vanya, come on! Open the door, I’m fucking cold.” He didn’t really think Russia would reopen and so he turned around to leave. He wondered briefly who he could go to. England, France, and Canada all closed the door when they saw him too, and didn’t reopen it. Maybe Japan… but Japan kinda hates him right now.

...Everyone does.

The door reopened and Russia called, “What do you want, Amerika?” His accent thickened in the early morning. Alfred grinned and whirled around. He bounded up the steps and shoved past the owner of the house to let himself in. He maneuvered the large home until he found the fireplace and went to stand in front of it.

As he warmed himself he babbled, “You know, you don’t need to call me America anymore. I mean, the states have disbanded so I’m not a country. Besides, on my last day being alive couldn’t you at least attempt to be informal with me? I mean, I think you and I have been through enough shit in the past for you to call me by my name.”

Russia interrupted, “If I call you Alfred, will you stop joking around and get to the point?”

Alfred laughed loudly and turned around, “Sure thing big guy!” He paused and let his gaze roam the interior of the sitting room. It looked clean and cozy. The beige couch near the back wall looked comfortable enough for him to take a nap on. He probably would if he had the time.

He snapped his gaze to his host and took a moment to stare at his once-friend, once-rival, now… something else. Russia had dressed down for bed and was wearing, instead of his normal long coat and formal clothing, sweatpants, a tank top, and his long white scarf. If Alfred remembered correctly, even when they were close during imperial times he had worn that thing to bed. He once remembered when he asked Russia if he were afraid he would choke during the night, and Russia laughed softly and ruffled his hair. He had told him that no, he was not afraid of choking nor was he afraid the he would ruin the scarf. He didn’t explain, and Alfred didn’t have the attention-span to ask him to.

Alfred sobered slightly, he almost wished he had, “Okay buddy, here’s why I’m here. I’m going to die today.” Russia looked taken aback. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, then opened it again. No words came out. America continued, “Like I said, my states have disbanded. They’re all their own separate countries now. I only have until midnight tonight until I join Rome in wherever he went.”

“Are you sure?” Ivan gazed at him in disbelief, “I mean, Prussia disbanded but he’s still hanging around…”

Alfred laughed, not nearly as boldly as he had before, “Yeah, I still don’t know why that is. There are a number of theories, but that doesn’t matter right now.” He held out his hand, “Give me your hand.” Russia pursed his lips but followed direction. Alfred pulled Russia towards him just enough to put Russia’s hand over his heart. Russia’s disbelief faded into acceptance at what he felt. Or rather, what he didn’t feel, “My heart’s no longer beating.” Alfred didn’t need to tell him, but he did anyway.

Russia nodded and took his hand away. He didn’t meet Alfred’s gaze as he asked, “So what’s your plan? Do you really want to spend your last day alive with me?”

Alfred smiled, “There’s no one I would rather be with.” Russia’s gaze met his own and he arched an eyebrow, not at all believing the sunny blond. Alfred amended, “Actually, I tried my family before coming here, but they didn’t reopen the door. Iggy told me to come back when it wasn’t one in the fucking morning.”

“Did you tell them why you were there?” Russia tried.

Alfred shook his head, “No, you’re the only one who knows. I mean, sure they all know the status of my states, but they don’t know that I’m gonna disappear after today is done.” He brightened up, “We’re wasting time!” He told the other cheerfully, “What do you say big guy? Are you up for one last adventure?”

Russia gave a rare non-creepy smile, “Sure. I have time to indulge one last childish fantasy of yours.”

Alfred laughed and scratched the back of his head sheepishly, “Actually it’s ten last childish fantasies.” He fished around in his jacket pocket for a moment and pulled out a crinkled piece of paper. He opened it and scanned through the contents before turning to the nation, “I wrote out a bucket list of things I need to accomplish before I die. They’re the people who I feel I need to say goodbye to, without them knowing it’s me saying goodbye.”

Russia’s eyes sparkled with amusement, “Alright, that sounds fun. Who’s first?”

“Your sisters.” Russia’s smile dropped and Alfred hurriedly added, “It’s nothing bad or perverted or anything like that!”

After what felt like forever the older nation nodded, “I will go change, you should call my personal airplane.” Nations get their own method of flying when they need to visit the other countries quickly. Alfred used to have a helicopter. With Russia’s personal vehicle they would be able cross the world very quickly.

Alfred picked up the phone and called the number he had once memorized. The pilot didn’t seem surprised to hear him on the other line. They had grown used to the other nations demanding to use each other’s personal vehicles.

When Russia returned he had put on his normal attire. They heard the sound of the airplane landing outside and Russia looked at him, “Are you ready to go?”

For the first time since Alfred made this plan he actually felt almost nervous, “Yeah I’m ready.” He lied, “We need to go to Belarus first.”

Russia shuddered but complied, leading the way outside to the plane. Alfred turned around before entering, allowing himself one last look at the home that he'd spent a lot of his time trying to break into. Not out of malicious intent, he just liked to bug Russia.

The flight to Belarus's place lasted half an hour. Alfred took this time to talk to Russia. He didn't talk about any topic in particular, he just enjoyed talking to someone who actually listened to him. Russia didn't turn to read a book or look outside or at his phone. His attention remained on Alfred the entire time. He only interrupted when Alfred got on a different train of thought.

When they arrived at her home neither were surprised to see her awake and waiting for them. She ignored Alfred completely and went to latch onto her brother, "I missed you." She didn't sound like she missed him in the way that she, as his sister, should have.

Russia looked at Alfred almost pleadingly and the American laughed, "Hey Nat, good to see ya too." She looked at him and frowned for a moment, before brightening up. Well, brightening up as much as possible for her. She walked away from her brother and stood in front of Alfred, looking him up and down, "You look terrible." She informed.

Alfred winked, "You're as lovely as ever."

She wasn't amused but she didn't try to stab him. She must be in a good mood, "What do you want? Why are you spending time with Big Brother?"

Alfred thought about how to broach the subject carefully, without setting her off or getting his request denied, "Actually, is Ukraine here?"

"She is." Belarus's eyes narrowed, "Why use her country name? She gave you permission to use her human one. You used my human one."

Alfred waved his hand, "Don't think too much on it." He dismissed, "Can you bring her out." Belarus didn't move, "Please?" He pouted and gave his best puppy dog eyes. The girl relented and disappeared inside her house. Alfred was pleased to see that she didn't hate him. Once upon a time she wasn't too fond of him, but when the Soviet Union collapsed she had come to live at Alfred's place for a little bit before returning to Russia's side. She was fun and all but she was exhausting.

When Belarus returned, she had her older sister following closely behind. Ukraine, like Belarus, first went to greet Russia. After all, he was the more important of the two guests now. Back when Alfred was a country and, he'll admit, kind of a dick sometimes, they always greeted him out of fear that he'd do or say something cruel. He didn't mean to, it just slipped out. Now he was back to how he was pre-world wars, so a little less dickish.

After Ukraine finished checking on Russia, i.e. is he feeling alright, has he been eating, has he been getting enough sleep, is his scarf irritating him at all, is anything at all uncomfortable etc. she turned to Alfred, "So what brings you so early in the morning?"

Alfred grinned, now seemed like the perfect time, "I need your help with accomplishing a major task that I once challenged myself to complete." Both sisters tilted their head curiously at the same time. Alfred found that adorable. He continued, "Belarus."

"What?" The girl snapped, answering to her name.

Alfred shook his head, "No, you're the task." All three Russians frowned and Alfred explained, "See, when I first met you, you terrified me. That's probably because you tried to stab me in the ribs with a knife."

"I'm not sorry." She told him, her expression blank.

Alfred laughed again, "I didn't think you would be. Anyway, I vowed to myself that one day, I would receive a sweet, genuine, not at all creepy or threatening hug from you."

It took a minute for the three of them to process this, "You want me to hug you." Belarus repeated.

Alfred nodded but put up a hand to stop her from walked over to him from where she was now latched onto her brother's arm, "Yes, but there's a catch to this hug. It needs to be affectionate, but not the type of affection where you grab my butt like last time."

"I'm not sorry about that either." She interjected once more.

Alfred grinned, "Neither am I. But I mean a hug that you would give to someone like Ukraine."

After moment of mulling it over Belarus asked, "What do I get if I give you this?"

Alfred pursed his lips, "Well, I'm not really a country anymore. What would you want?"

"A kiss." Alfred blinked at her in disbelief and shock. Belarus added, "On the lips. Like you would give to Big Brother."

Both of the men protested that no, under no circumstances would Alfred ever give Russia a kiss. Ever. Alfred even laughed, "I would have to be on my deathbed."

Belarus didn't falter from her request, nor did she look convinced in the slightest, "Do we have a deal?" She held out a small, slender hand. Alfred mulled over the request for another second before agreeing.

Ukraine cheered, "Oh this is going to be so much fun!" She got an idea, "Wait! I want to record this!" She rushed into the house, returning moments later with a cellphone.

Belarus and Alfred both waited until she was ready. When she gave them the okay, Belarus left Russia's side completely and wrapped her arms around Alfred's waist, burying her face in his chest and inhaling deeply. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rested his cheek on the top of her head, closing his eyes for just a moment before they both let go. He smiled, "Thanks."

Belarus frowned, "Now you need to kiss me." She reminded.

Alfred chuckled, and leaned forward, giving her just a peck on the lips. She accepted that as good enough.

When Ukraine finished recording Alfred walked over and gave her a hug as well before turning to leave, "Bye sisters." He called. Ukraine and Belarus waved.

When he and Russia were safely in the plane the older man turned to him, "No 'see ya'?" He checked. It was unusual for Alfred not use that old catchphrase of his. He once complained that he hated goodbyes.

Alfred shrugged, "I won't. That's my last time seeing them." He turned his gaze to look out the window, but both of the girls had already gone back inside, “This was my goodbye.”

Russia watched him for a moment, “I wish you’d told them. They would want to join you on this little adventure.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell them. That’s how I want them to remember me, as the happy Alfred with no care in that world, and with only slight sexual tension towards their brother.”

Russia frowned, “We don’t have any sexual tension.” He told him. Alfred rolled his eyes and Russia pressed, “I would not have sex with you.”

“ Sure buddy. Lithuania’s next.” Russia scowled but let the matter drop.

Lithuania was much less thrilled to see Russia than his sisters, and for the most part focused on Alfred, "Oh Mister America!" He greeted, letting him into his house, "What brings you here so early in the morning?"

Alfred didn't answer his question right away, instead asking, "Hey, what time is it?"

Lithuania didn't seem surprised that his question was ignored, and honestly he knew that Alfred didn't mean to do things like that, "It's three in the morning." Alfred nodded, and did the math in his head. It took them about thirty minutes to travel from Moscow to Minsk, and then about twenty minutes from Minsk to Vilnius. He should have enough time to visit everyone he wanted to if he was quick, but he also knew that the flight to Canada would take a couple of hours.

Alfred seemed to forget where he was and he jumped when Lithuania snapped in front of his face, "Mister America? Is there a reason you're here?"

Alfred once more ignored the question and walked further into the house to sit on Lithuania's couch, "Hey could you call me Alfred? I mean, it's great and all that you still respect me enough to use my official name, but that's not me anymore."

Lithuania seemed surprised by the request, "Certainly Mister... Alfred." Alfred puffed his cheeks out but let the title slide. If Lithuania wanted to remember him as something more than informal then Alfred wasn't going to fight it.

Alfred turned to look at Russia, "Hey big guy, could you go fetch me a drink?" He requested. Russia raised an eyebrow and Alfred grinned, "I'll give you a kiss too ." He offered.

"Nyet." Russia denied almost immediately, giving Alfred an idea.

"Okay, then I'll kiss you if you don't." Normally the threat would not work on him, but he understood Alfred enough to realize that he wanted a little bit of time alone with Lithuania. The brunette would not speak freely if Russia was lurking about.

Once he left Lithuania checked, "Too?"

Alfred waved his hand dismissively, "Belarus wanted me to give her one. Ukraine recorded it so I'm sure you'll see it."

Lithuania shoved his hands in his pockets, "Oh." He paused, "Was it nice?"

Alfred smirked at him knowingly, "It was an ordinary kiss with an ordinary girl." He answered, making sure not to give Lithuania the answer that he was looking for.

The man looked disappointed, "Oh well... good for you." They fell into silence before Lithuania asked, "Is that all you wanted?"

Alfred shook his head, "Actually I wanted to pay you for everything you've done. Although, not with money." He added on that last bit when Lithuania looked confused. The value of the dollar has not yet plummeted, but it would soon. After all, the states only separated last week.

Lithuania remained standing as he waited for Alfred to get to the point, but when the blond didn't speak up he spoke, "What is it you want to give me?"

Alfred grinned and reached inside his jacket pocket. He pulled out a key-chain with four separate keys on it, "Two of these are for my cars, one is for my motorcycle, and the third one is for my house." He tossed the key-chain to Lithuania, "Here ya go."

The man looked surprised, "You're just... giving me these? Where will you live?"

Alfred bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying that he won't, "I'm staying with Iggy." He lied. Lithuania bought it and marveled at his new belongings. The vehicles won't go down in value for quite some time, so if he grew low on money he knew he could sell it for a nice amount. And the house is great for spending time separated from Russia by an ocean.

Lithuania grinned, "Thank you very much Alfred." He had dropped the title, "What brought this on?"

Alfred smiled, "I guess I just felt like being nice. You know, tying up loose strings and all that." Russia chose that moment to reappear, handing Alfred a can of Pepsi that had already been opened, "Did you spit in this or take a sip?"

Russia nodded, "Yes." He answered, not elaborating on which one he did. Instead he pointed at the key-chain, "You're just going to give him that stuff?"

Alfred grinned, "Yeah. I'm not going to need it anymore."

Russia wrinkled his nose, "I'm not giving you anything." He informed the Lithuanian.

The man sputtered out a response as Russia watched with an amused look in his eyes. His face remained passive but Alfred could tell that that was a joke.

He teased, "Are you gonna give me something?"

Russia frowned, "I already am. I'm giving you my time." Alfred frowned and looked down at the floor, "What more do you want?"

"...Your attention." He mumbled.

Russia sighed and turned to Lithuania, ignoring the cute American in favor of talking to the other nation, "My sister might enjoy visiting that house. You should invite her."

Lithuania laughed nervously, "Are you just telling me this because you want her to be as far away from you as possible?"

"Yes." Russia confirmed.

Alfred returned to his normal cheerful self and stood up from his spot on the couch. He crushed the now empty can in his hand, showing to the others that his strength had not yet diminished, and tossed it to Lithuania, "Yeah, you should take her there. Or you can take Poland. I don't judge." He winked, "I have some old romantic movies that you can put into the TV. Perfect for a date." He paused and thought about it, "Although, if you're trying to date Belarus then maybe you'd best use the horror films that I have. She likes things paranormal."

Lithuania nodded, "Thank you again."

Alfred nodded and gave a thumbs up, "Yeah." He set his mouth into a straight line, not quite a frown, not quite a smile, before tilting the corners upwards, "Anyway, Russia and I need to keep going. Goodbye."

Lithuania nodded again and eyes the keys, no longer giving Alfred his full attention, "Bye Mister America."

As they left, Russia commented to Alfred, "That was probably the least selfish thing you've done so far."

Alfred laughed, "Today or in general?"

Russia hummed, "Yes."

Alfred laughed again, "Well, the next thing is also pretty selfless. You know how Francis and Iggy have their on-again off-again relationship?"

Russia shrugged, "I don't really care about them. Are we going to England or France?"

Alfred pouted but answered anyway, "England. I'm sure Francis is still there." At Russia's inquiring look Alfred continued, "They broke up but Francis is trying to get back together. When I knocked on Iggy's door this morning they both answered before slamming the door in my face." He shrugged, not at all phased, "I want to get them back together. When I go they should at least have each other."

Russia watched him a little sadly, "Your death is going to affect England." He commented.

Alfred smiled, "Arthur will get over it. He doesn't like me that much."

Russia raised an eyebrow but didn't argue with it. He knew that Alfred was very wrong in that assumption, but fighting him on it would only make the boy feel worse than he already did. Russia eyed him carefully, smiling and watching the ground race by beneath them. Surely he must be upset by the whole thing, right? No one dies with a smile on their face.

As Alfred laughed and pointed something out below Russia corrected himself, Alfred would be the type of person to smile up until his death, without a care in the world.

Instead, Russia brought up another thing that was on his mind, "So how do you plan on getting them back together?"

"I know Iggy well enough to know how to convince him that something like this is a good idea." Alfred grinned, turning to face Russia, "I've only had about two hundred years to study up."

They reached London at five in the morning, and Alfred hoped this was late enough. When he walked up to the large yet comfortable house he noticed that the lights were on and he heard arguing. They were both wide awake.

Alfred turned around the face Russia, but before he could say whatever it was he was going to, Russia put a hand up and stopped him, "I already said it once, but I'll say it again. I don't really care about England or France. I'll wait in the plane." Alfred gave a thumbs up and watched him go. He ignored the part of him that panged when he could no longer see him, wishing only to stay by his side until he was gone.

After all, he's loved Russia ever since he was a kid.

Mentally shaking his head he drummed his fist on the door. Francis was the one to open it, and he didn't look surprised or happy to see him there, "What do you want, Alfred?" Alfred smiled, happy that Francis used his human name.

Arthur shouted from inside, "Alfred, when I said come back later I meant longer than four hours."

When Francis turned to say something to Arthur, Alfred took advantage of the distraction and shoved his way inside, "I know, but I have other people I gotta see today. I just wanted to stop by and say hey."

Arthur didn't look amused, but he didn't kick him out which was also nice, "Yes, hi." He turned and stormed into the kitchen to angrily make Alfred a cup of tea, effectively leaving him alone with the Frenchman.

Alfred turned to look at his parent figure, "So, what happened this time?"

Francis sighed and sat down on the couch, "Angleterre is upset because I flirted with Austria."

Arthur shouted from in the kitchen, "And Hungary, both Italians, Seychelles, and the rest of the bloody world!"

Alfred waited until he was finished to call, "And me."

Arthur reappeared in the doorway and folded his arms across his chest, frowning at the American, "What?"

Alfred repeated, "Well, he also flirted with me." He looked at Francis, "I mean, even though you helped raise me and you only see me as your brother slash child thing." Francis shrugged, not looking the least bit apologetic. Alfred turned back to his closest friend, "So his flirting means absolutely nothing to anyone." He thought about it, "Actually the only time I've ever seen him mean something that he's said is when he talks to you."

Arthur walked farther into the room, "I suppose that's true." He allowed.

Alfred pressed on, "Seriously, any one of those people you listed could tell you exactly who he belongs to." Arthur nodded, his eyes staring absentmindedly at Francis. Alfred continued, "It's kinda ridiculous that you're fighting about it instead of doing what you used to do."

Arthur snapped his attention back to Alfred, "And what did I used to do?"

Alfred shrugged and let his gaze wander around the room as he spoke, showing that he wasn't really thinking about what he was saying. This way was best because it let Arthur know how obvious it was. It works nine out of ten times, although that number changes from ten out of ten times when it has to do with Francis, "You would take what was yours in a gross way that Mattie and I heard way too much of growing up. To, I dunno, show the whole world that they can look but not touch or something."

Arthur pursed his lips, "That's true." He agreed.

Alfred turned to face his brother but when he saw the look in his eyes he decided it was time to leave. He laughed, "Goodbye Arthur. Goodbye Francis." He called, turning around and walking out the door. He would have liked to give them each a hug, but determined that that would just give him away.

He hoped that they would stay together long enough to forget he ever existed and ruined their relationship in the first place.

As he got on the plan he found Russia looking down at his phone, not looking up when Alfred cleared his throat. Alfred rolled his eyes and went to the pilot, "Next is Germany." He informed.

When he returned to Russia he found the other watching him with an almost bored look, "I was watching a cute cat video that Liechtenstein sent everyone." He informed.

Alfred laughed and refused to think of the fact that she didn’t send him one, "I almost wish I had enough time to go visit her."

Russia nodded and Alfred sat down across from him, "So how did it go?"

"It worked."

The plane didn't take off yet and at Alfred’s confusion Russia pressed, "I really think you need to walk right in there, interrupt whatever it is they're doing, and give them both a hug."

Alfred laughed and shook his head, "No way dude. That would just seem weird to them."

" Alfred ." Russia's voice was stern, "We're not leaving here until you do. It's something that you need to do before you die. Tell them both that you love them and that you'll miss them. I don't care if they suspect something's up."

Alfred frowned but got out of the plane to follow direction. He was lucky to find them only kissing. They broke apart to frown at Alfred, "Didn't you leave?" Arthur snapped.

Alfred ignored the question and strode forward, pulling his oldest friend in for a hug. He whispered, "I'll miss you." Before letting him go. He repeated the process with Francis, who had actually returned the hug. Arthur still seemed to be in shock.

Alfred rubbed the back of his head as he once more said, "Bye guys. Love ya." And left quickly.

Arthur turned to look at Francis, "What was that?"

The Frenchman shrugged, "Alfred has always been a little strange."

Back on the plane Alfred was sitting down and this time they were finally taking off. Alfred didn't comment to Russia about how he was right, that Alfred did need to do that.

They arrived at Germany's house at 5:45 in the morning. They would have gotten there sooner but Alfred insisted they stop for pizza and drinks. The German was already awake and had begun his day, not looking surprised at all to see them there. Alfred was the first out of the plane and he rushed past Germany into the other man's house.

Germany is great and all and he would have his time to say goodbye, but first Alfred feels a very strong desire to use the bathroom and wake up Prussia. Not at the same time.

He finished emptying his bladder and walked to the basement where Prussia sleeps, and found the albino on the couch with an empty bottle of beer hanging from his hand. He flicked on the lights and just as Prussia began to wake up he tackled him, effectively waking him up the rest of the way. Prussia cackled, "Why are you like this?"

Alfred joined him in his laughter, "I wanted to wake you up. I need your help with something."

Prussia grinned and sat up, pushing Alfred off of him, "This better be good. I only got like an hour of sleep."

Alfred blinked at him in confusion, "It's like a quarter 'til six." He informed.

Prussia nodded, "I'm aware."

Alfred shook his head slightly and dropped the subject, deciding to just launch into his plan before Russia bothered Germany too much and got them kicked out, "I made a bucket list because I'm gonna die at midnight and I'm saying goodbye to everyone I love and I want to steal Germany's dogs."

Prussia blinked at him, processing this, "Okay." He paused, "You love West's dogs?"

"Sure." Alfred let a goofy grin spread across his face, "But more than that I want him to get mad at me one last time. And I always wondered what would happen if I took his babies."

Prussia nodded and returned the grin, standing up, "Let's do it." He began to lead the way out of the basement but stopped abruptly before climbing the stairs. Alfred didn't expect him to stop so he bumped into him.

Prussia turned around and wrapped his arms around Alfred, burying his face in the crook of Alfred's neck, "I'm gonna miss you kid."

Alfred blinked to fight back tears. This was the only real goodbye that he was going to be getting. He's glad it's from Prussia. He returned the hug just as tightly, "Yeah. I'm gonna miss you too." He gave a watery chuckle and cursed himself for failing, "You know, I still remember when you taught me how to fight."

Prussia huffed out a laugh, "You sucked." He commented, pulling back to look him in the eyes. Alfred felt a weird sense of pleasure at seeing tears forming in the albino's eyes as well, "But eventually you sucked less."

Alfred grinned, this one actually reaching his eyes, "That's all thanks to you."

Prussia pulled him in for one last hug before turning and climbing the steps, "Now let's go steal West's dogs."

Alfred laughed and let himself be led. He was glad that he spontaneously told Prussia what was going on. The first dog that they found was Aster. Prussia stopped and scratched the dog's ears. He turned to Alfred, "Alright, if you wanna make a larger impact, I would suggest only taking one. You'll get farther and it'll be easier for you to only carry one."

Alfred nodded, "So I should just pick up Aster and leave?"

Prussia nodded his confirmation, "Go get in the plane and I guarantee you'll give West a heart attack. It'll be funny." He paused, "Just don't actually, like, fly off."

Alfred gave a thumbs up and picked the dog up easily, once again thankful that his strength hadn't yet left. He turned and walked out of the door, right past Germany. Prussia followed and leaned against the doorway with his arms across his chest and a smirk on his face. He wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to watch this.

Dog in hand, Alfred walked past Russia and onto the plane, calling behind him, "Thanks for the dog Luddy!"

Behind him he heard Prussia cackle and he knew that the expression on Germany's face must be priceless. He turned and glanced back and had to fight to keep a straight face as Germany raced towards the plane to rescue his dog.

He put down Aster just long enough to close the door. He grabbed a slice of pizza and offered it to the dog, not looking up when the door was forced open, "America!" Germany shouted.

Alfred looked up, his face remaining passive, "Oh hey. I'm just feeding my new dog."

Germany didn't look amused in the slightest, snapping something in German that caused Aster to whine and exit the plane. This time Alfred let himself laugh, "Dude I'll trade you Russia for Aster." He tried.

Germany scowled and turned around to leave. Alfred followed, still holding the pizza slice. He followed Germany back to the house and felt Russia walking behind him. Germany snapped at Prussia, "You let him do this."

Prussia grinned, "I helped." Alfred laughed and handed him the slice of pizza, which Prussia ate quickly.

Germany sighed and looked like they all gave him a huge headache, "I'm going inside."

Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder, "Hey Germany, wait." The other turned to look at him expectantly, and Alfred struggled to figure out what he was going to say. He wanted to apologize for everything bad he's ever done to him, and thank him for everything that Germany has ever helped him with. He wanted to tell him that he'd always considered him a close friend and that he wished that he would come with him and stay by his side until he died. Instead he finished with, "Bye."

Germany nodded curtly, "Goodbye."

Prussia moved out of the way just enough for Germany to push past before reached back and closing it. He turned and stepped forward, giving Alfred another hug, "Do you want me to come with?" He checked, pulling back and searching his gaze.

Alfred shook his head, "Nah. Stick with your brother."

Prussia nodded and glanced wearily at Russia before a genuine smile stretched across his face, "See ya next time kid."

This time Alfred responded with, "See ya."

Russia walked Alfred back to the plane in silence. When they sat down he commented, "You told him." When Alfred nodded Russia commented, "I'm glad."

"Me too." He looked out the window and saw that Prussia had disappeared to go inside, "Next is Japan."

The flight to Tokyo was actually a little longer. Alfred fell asleep in the two hours that it took. He didn't mean to but he accidentally placed his head in Russia's lap as he slept. Russia looked at his phone and absentmindedly brushed a hand through Alfred's hair as the American slept, seeing no real reason why he should make him move.

When they arrived it was already light out and Alfred was mostly awake. Instead of just walking in he knocked on Japan's door and waited patiently. Japan was fast to answer it and didn't greet him with hostility, "America."

Alfred smiled, "Hey Kiku. Are ya busy?" Russia eyed him, noticing that this time Alfred was acting a bit more reserved. With the others, he would have just let himself into their home.

Japan shook his head and stepped back, "Not at all. Come in." Alfred grinned and thanked him.

Once inside he looked very awkward and out of place, as though he didn't know what he was going to do. He rocked back and forth on his heels and both Japan and Russia stared at him, waiting for him to do something. Eventually Alfred cleared his throat, "With the others I gave them something or stole their dog. I have an idea of what I want to give to you, but I'm not sure how to do it without it feeling insincere." He confessed.

Russia looked around for someplace to sit before deciding that the floor seemed perfectly comfortable. He was certain he was going to a bit of a show with this one. More of a show than last time. He wondered briefly if he would actually see Alfred get upset.

Japan seemed only mildly curious, "Any gift would feel sincere, just please do not take anything."

Alfred shook his head, muttering, "No, I'm sure I already took plenty from you."

Japan frowned, "What do you mean?"

Alfred sighed and brushed a hand through his hair, "Alright well, the gift I wanted to give you is your freedom."

At first Japan didn't understand, "My... freedom?"

Alfred nodded, "Yeah buddy. You're free to do whatever you want. I won't stop you. You wanna build a navy and take over the world, then have fun."

Russia spoke up, "I would stop you if you tried to do that."

Alfred ignored that, "I guess, this is sorta my way of apologizing to you. So feel free to have whatever government you want and close up your country again if that’s what'll make you happy. That's all I wanted to say."

Japan looked at a loss for words, "Why?"

Alfred looked at Russia as he answered, "I can't really say. I'm sorry about that, but you'll find out why tomorrow." He stepped forward, "I know you hate physical contact, but just... bear with me. This won't last long." He pulled the smaller man in for a hug and was surprised when Japan didn't push him away. He didn't return the hug either, but neither did England.

When Alfred stepped back he offered the man a slight smile, "Goodbye Kiku." He turned, grabbed Russia's hand to pull him up, and left, not giving the other a chance to tell him goodbye.

When they reached the plane and were safe from ears Russia commented, "That was quick."

Alfred sighed, for once not smiling around Russia, "I didn't wanna make that harder than it actually is." He paused and laughed, "But I think you'll enjoy the next one."

Russia looked at him curiously, "Where are we going next?"

"China."

Russia laughed, "You're right, I think I'm going to enjoy this."

On the way to Beijing the two men had an actual conversation, not one that Alfred was leading and Russia was keeping on track.

He told him everything that he wanted to do before he died and Russia commented, "If you die."

Alfred blinked at him, "Dude, you already felt my lack of heartbeat. I'm done for."

Russia tilted his head, "Not necessarily. I can go quite some time without a heartbeat. Perhaps it will start back up again and you'll live with Canada."

Alfred laughed at the thought, "Mattie would end up killing me or something. Pretty sure I'd be exiled and sent to live with Prussia." He thought about it, "Can you imagine just, me and Prussia working together, taking over a smaller country, and then forming a larger one of own. We'd outlive everyone."

Russia didn't look happy with that thought, "I'll have to convince Canada to just keep you." He muttered.

Alfred grinned, "You just don't want Prussia to come back as a country." He accused teasingly.

Russia shuddered, "You're absolutely right."

"You know," Alfred continued, "It was Prussia who taught me everything I know about fighting during my revolutionary war. I mean, France helped me win by fighting Britain, but Prussia was the one who came over with a general of his and personally fought."

Russia nodded, "I remember that. England was so upset that he approached me for help. I'm glad that I refused." He gave a soft smile, "I remember how you acted when you were just thirteen colonies. So young and cute."

Alfred puffed out his cheeks, "I wasn't cute! I was manly."

"You were adorable." Russia corrected, "If you hadn't just finished earning your independence I would have made you mine."

Alfred looked at him in shock, "You mean, like your colony."

Russia waved his hand, "No. I was not interested in being your father figure. I mean in a union that would bond our two nations in a different sort of way." He laughed at the memory, "If I remember correctly, I was quite smitten with you."

Alfred laughed with him, "Yeah. What's even funnier is if you had asked me at that time I would have said yes." Russia looked at him, his turn to act surprised. Alfred continued, "I had quite a large crush on you back then."

Russia shook his head slightly, "How much would have been different if we weren't too shy to talk freely."

Alfred shrugged, "I dunno. It would have either caused more heartbreak, or spared a lot."

They stopped speaking then, both reflecting on the actions of the past.

They reached China's place at ten in the morning.

China looked less than happy to see him. In hindsight, he maybe shouldn't have visited, he just couldn't resist. He persuaded Russia to film this one to show at his funeral as his proudest accomplishment and the thing literally the whole world has been nagging him to do. China stared at him expectantly as Alfred waited for Russia to tell him that the camera is rolling.

When he received the okay, he turned and addressed China, "As you may know, I'm dying. I'll be dead by tomorrow when everyone is watching this."

China furrowed his brow, "You're actually dying? I thought you were just going to end up like Prussia?"

Alfred shook his head, "Nope." He popped his lips at the 'p' sound, "My heart has already stopped beating and I'm saying goodbye to everyone I care about." He pulled out his wallet, "That's not what I'm here to talk about. I'm here because I have this fund set aside. I've had this since..." He did the math in his head, "Well since the fifties." He pulled out his checkbook and ripped out the first check there, handing it over, "I figured I should probably just pay you back."

China ripped the check out of his hand and scanned over it, "You have the money for this? You've had it and you haven't paid me back?"

Alfred giggled, "Yeah. I could've paid you back at any time."

Russia laughed silently, not at the situation, but at China's reaction. The much older nation looked shocked, angry, and dumbfounded all at once. He didn't look like he believed the check would come through with any real money, but Alfred had already shown Russia his bank statement. At first the Russian had the same dumbfounded confusion as China, but after it settled in that America could have paid off the debt at any time his confusion faded into humor. Sometimes he forgets that the ex-nation really is just a child that doesn't like being told what to do.

China looked at the check, at the nation that gave it to him, and finally at Russia, "You think this is funny ?"

"I think it's hilarious." Russia told him, making sure to keep all humor out of his voice. This caused Alfred to giggle harder.

China turned his attention back to the laughing American, he didn't say anything at first, only waited until he was finished. When Alfred straightened his spine and the giggles subsided China said simply, "I'm sure you don't believe me, but I'm going to miss you." Alfred blinked at him in shock, "I mean, not all of you. You're bratty and annoying and completely unreliable, but you were fun during the allied meetings."

Alfred didn't know how to handle the compliment, "Uh, thanks. I'm glad my existence wasn't a complete bother for you."

Russia added, "Only a slight bother."

Alfred laughed and played along, not entirely sure why they were suddenly playing a word game, “A minor inconvenience.” He turned towards his travelling companion.

As he did this Russia shut off the camera, "We should call Prussia and have him start planning your funeral. The sooner we can have it the better."

Alfred frowned, "Aren't you still banking on me surviving this thing?"

Russia nodded, "Yes, but it can't hurt to be prepared."

China watched this exchange with an almost disinterested look on his face, "I'll cover the funds for the funeral. I believe I have more than enough, and you did help me out that one time."

Alfred grinned, "Thanks China." He turned to walk out of the building, but paused in the doorway and said, "Bye."

China waved him off and the younger man left towards the airplane, leaving the two old nations to chat in privacy. China was the first one to speak, "Why are you with him?"

Russia didn't actually know the answer to that, so he told him, "I have nothing better to do."

China didn't look convinced by that answer at all, "Liar." He accused, "You still have feelings for the kid." He looked past Russia to where Alfred had left, "It's going to suck when he's gone. Who are we going to make fun of now?"

Russia rolled his eyes, "I’m sure you'll find someone . I'll see you at the funeral." China nodded but didn't respond, opting instead to take the check and put it away until his boss came to visit.

On the airplane, Alfred was already sitting in the seat and bouncing his leg, more than ready to go to the next person. After giving the order to take them to Rome, Russia sat down next to him instead of across from him, "What are you going to do with the rest of your money?" He asked curiously.

Alfred answered fairly quickly, having already thought this out, "I wanted to donate it to some starving Italians."

Russia mouthed the words 'starving Italians' and Alfred laughed, "Okay, well maybe Feli's feeling a bit peckish right now? When we get there it'll be about noon, so they should be ready for lunch."

Russia nodded, "Da. Aren't you concerned that we're not going to be able to make it to all of the places that you want to before your time is up?"

Alfred shook his head, "No, I think we'll have enough time. I did the math, twelve hours for a normal flight takes about three hours for our flight. So we'll have a few minutes to chat with the Italians before we leave to go to Mattie's place. That flight will take about five hours, putting us at five pm. I'll talk with him for a while before flying to Washington D.C, and that flight will take us about an hour, putting us at roughly six thirty pm."

"That gives you five and a half hours to do your final two things." Russia commented, "Is that enough time?"

"Yeah." Alfred nodded, "I'll have just enough time to do everything that I wanted to do." He offered a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "I think when I get to D.C. it'll be hardest for me, only because of who I'm saying goodbye to."

"Who are you saying goodbye to?"

"You'll see." Alfred turned his attention to the window and changed the subject to talk about much less serious topics.

North Italy was much more welcoming than South Italy, but at least South Italy didn't outright tell them to fuck off. Feliciano ran happily up to Alfred, who raised his arm and let the smaller nation use it as a swing. Lovino watched this with a bored expression.

Once North Italy had been completely entertained he let go of Alfred and asked, "Why are you here today? Isn't tomorrow your birthday?"

Alfred fought off the urge to tell him that tomorrow was actually his death day, and instead asked, "Really? What's today's date?"

It was Russia who answered, "Today is the third of July." Alfred's smile no longer reached his eyes, but only South Italy and Russia noticed its drop.

"Huh." Alfred changed the topic, preferring to talk about anything else, "So, because I'm not staying long wanna grab a bite to eat? My treat."

Both of the Italians readily agreed and they lead them to an American restaurant. Some of the stuff on the menu had Alfred laughing out loud, "We don't actually eat this stuff." He chortled.

North Italy looked confused, "You don't like bacon?"

Alfred shook his head, "No way, I love bacon. I also love chocolate. The two of them should never be put into the same meal." He insisted.

Feliciano laughed and offered him one, "Here! It's pretty good for American food!"

Alfred held fast that no, he was not going to eat that. At least, he did until Russia leaned in until his lips brushed over the shell of Alfred's ear, and his breath ghosted over his cheek as he whispered, "Don't you want to try something new on your last day alive?"

Alfred shivered but took the bacon, taking a bite. He took another bite and determined that it wasn't all that terrible. He still wasn't going to eat more than six pieces.

As he ate he listened as the Italians bantered cheerfully, participating only when they brought the conversation to him. Russia stayed silent the entire time, not even joining them in their meal. He kept on eye on Alfred, and the other eye on the time. The lunch stretched on for half an hour. That's twenty minutes longer than Alfred had hoped. Still, Russia didn't stop it because Alfred seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

The brothers walked their two guests back to the plane, where Alfred abruptly turned around and pulled out his wallet, "Oh right, I almost forgot." He wrote two separate checks and handed them to the brothers, who watched in shock, "Thanks for being hospitable even though I just randomly showed up. I have no idea how long until the value of my dollar drops completely, but I think some of the old states are going to use it, so maybe it'll stick around for longer than we think."

South Italy was the first one to speak, "This... is a lot of money."

North Italy beamed at Alfred, "Grazie Alfred!"

Alfred laughed and gave North Italy a quick hug. He pulled back and gave South Italy a light punch on the shoulder. Russia turned and got on the plane so he could tell the pilot where they were going. While he was doing that Alfred gave a couple of instructions to the brothers, "Hey, at midnight, call Prussia and let him know that I said to tell you where I went. He should announce it to the world. China and Russia can both back up his claims."

South Italy frowned, "Why don't you just tell us now?"

North Italy spoke over him, "We'll call him!"

Alfred offered one last smile, "Goodbye guys." He turned and jogged up to the plane, entering without looking back.

North Italy called cheerfully, "Goodbye Alfred!"

When he sat down he didn't speak for a solid ten minutes, eventually saying, "I'm dying on my birthday."

Russia frowned at him, "That's a depressing thought."

Alfred laughed, "Man it sure is! Let's talk about something else."

Russia turned his attention to the window and watched the ground race by before turning to look back at him, "So you used to have a crush on me?"

Alfred winked, "Oh yeah, I had it bad."

Russia leaned back and grinned, "Really? Why?"

Alfred looked at him curiously, "Why?"

Russia nodded, "Why did you like me? What was it about me specifically? I don't think I was too different from Prussia in many respects."

Alfred made a face, "Oh no broski, I would never date Prussia." He paused before allowing, "Okay, so I would never be in a romantic relationship with Prussia, but maybe I'd allow like a one night stand or something? It's kind of weird though because he was my teacher and all..."

"But you were interested in being romantic with me?"

Alfred nodded, "Hell yeah. There was always something mysterious with you. You were that empire that wasn't my enemy, then you were an ally, and then you became my closest friend." His smiled warmly, "I liked how smart you were and how much stronger you were than me. I think my favorite feature of yours will always be your eyes."

Russia tilted his head curiously, "My eyes." He repeated.

Alfred nodded and leaned forward just slightly, "Yeah. Your eyes have always enchanted me." The two stared at each other in silence before Alfred seemed to snap out of a daze and he laughed, "Now it's your turn."

"My turn?" Russia wasn't sure he liked the sound of that.

Alfred nodded again, "Yeah, you said that you liked me too. What was it about me that you liked?"

Russia didn't need to think about it, "I liked your spirit."

Alfred frowned, "My spirit."

"You've always been much more free than the rest of us. Perhaps not in terms of country, but personally you were always willing to do what others were not. You were free to talk to anyone about anything and no one could stop you." Russia explained, "Even as your thirteen colonies you looked at France and spoke to him like he was your equal, not your superior. I fell in love with that spirit." He shrugged, "I learned to love your other qualities with time."

Alfred coughed and changed the subject to something a little less personal. He caught on to the fact that Russia had used the words 'with time.' He wondered if that meant that Russia still...

Instead of thinking on this and being embarrassed later he decided to talk about other things, little memories that he held with each of the other countries that they probably don't remember. There was a time when he made friends with a whale at Japan's house, and the time that he scared England using Russia (Russia remembered that one as well), or that time when he and Canada were playing baseball and he kept "accidentally" throwing the ball too hard. Each of these memories came with their fair share of laughter, but inside Alfred wished that he had the time to make new ones.

As they landed at Canada's place Alfred murmured, "You know, I don't think my biggest regrets are the things that I have done." He stood up and walked out without waiting for a response. Russia frowned and walked after him, knowing Alfred he'll finish that thought sometime later at an obscure time when they've already moved past it.

Surprisingly, Alfred saw his brother right away, not having the time to play the game "Who's Canada?". As Alfred jogged over to him, Canada looked at the airplane and squinted, "Are you just going to park that on my lawn?" He asked.

Alfred nodded, "I won't be staying long, I just wanted to chat for a couple of minutes."

Canada looked at Alfred, then the airplane, and finally at Russia, "Hi Russia." He greeted, "Why are you here?"

Alfred laughed and answered in Russia's place, "He's my date for my little adventure." Canada's eyes adopted an almost sad look. He's one of the only ones who know about Alfred’s long-time crush on Russia. The only other person being Tony, who Alfred had already said goodbye to.

The sad look went away and Canada let them into his home, guiding them to the kitchen where they all sat around the table. Canada grabbed a drink for Alfred and himself, but didn't know what Russia wanted to drink. Luckily, Russia wasn't thirsty.

When they were all settled down Alfred decided to talk, "So, I just have a couple of things I wanted to get off my chest before we go to my old capitol."

Canada nodded, "Alright, I'm listening."

Alfred seemed to have planned out what he was going to say to Canada, but instead of speaking quickly like he normally does when speaking to his brother he spoke slowly, as if emphasizing everything that he was saying, "Do you remember when we were kids, how I always demanded to be in the center of attention and you were fine with just being? I think when I first realized that, probably during my Revolutionary War, was when I first realized that you were better than me." Canada's eyes slowly widened and Alfred continued, "Everything good that I've accomplished, you did first. Sure I had more military might than you, but that was the only thing I held over you. If you ever got invaded for whatever reason, which is unlikely because everyone likes you, then I would have just stepped in anyway so you didn't even need that. Your economy was better than mine, your people were much happier than mine, you had free healthcare while I barely had healthcare after my forty-fifth president." Alfred laughed, "I only legalized gay marriage like seventeen years after you did and look who I'm in love with." His ironic laughter subsided and he shrugged, "So I guess my point is that you're probably the best country in the world and I've known this for years and never told you... sorry about that."

Alfred paused as he gathered up what he was going to say next, "The only other thing I want to say to you is that the only thing I have had that was better than everyone else, is my brother. I probably should have bragged about you more than I did, but I'm immensely proud of you and of everything you've done." He smiled, "You're going to continue doing amazing things."

He stood up to leave, "That's all I wanted to say. I have someplace I need to be now. Goodbye Mattie."

Canada called, "Wait! No 'see ya later'?"

Alfred turned around and grinned, "Nope! Not this time. Love you, kid." Without another word he left, with Russia following close behind.

They mounted the plane and Russia told the pilot where they wanted to go. When Russia sat across from Alfred the blond grinned at him and said, "Hey, what do bears do in the winter?"

Russia frowned, "They sleep."

Alfred giggled, "They hy-bear-nate."

Russia groaned, "I really hate your language. When you go, I am never speaking English again."

Alfred’s giggles turned into full blown laughter, "No wait! I have more puns to say before I die!" He couldn't get another one out because he was laughing too hard.

Russia gave him a dry look, "I'm glad that you think you're funny."

"I think I'm hilarious." Alfred confirmed, finally sobering up.

He turned his attention away from the conversation and outside the window when they crossed into his old territory, preferring to look at what he would never see again. What he had spent so much time trying to shape into something great, something that wouldn't fall. Over each of his old states, he told Russia a different story.

When they finally landed at the place that Alfred had specified to the pilot Alfred stood up and said, "This is the place where I've chosen to die. But first there's someone that I need to say goodbye to." He lingered in the doorway of the plane, "It's funny, this is the last time I'm going to be leaving this plane. I've done it so many times in the past, not really focusing on how there would be a last time."

As they walked across the large lawn to get to where Alfred wanted to be, he mused, "I wish that we had the time to fly over all of my old states. I have plenty of stories to share."

Russia realized where they were as soon as he'd read the name on the gravestone, "You're saying goodbye to George Washington?"

Alfred shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets, "Not really. I might see him before I see any of you. I'm saying goodbye to myself." He smiled fondly, "You know, George didn't even want to be my president, but he was a pretty good one for what he had to work with."

Russia nodded his agreement, "He helped start a new nation with a new system of government that should have failed but didn't."

Alfred laughed, "I remember this time when I was younger, I was with Prussia and he was teaching me how to fight with a sword. It's a skill I only used once but when I had to use it I was glad that I knew how. Anyway, George found us and questioned what we were doing. When I told him, he told me that I should learn as much as I can from the nations around me. That the information would help me better than I thought it would."

Alfred stopped speaking then and, when it seemed like he wasn't going to say anything else, Russia asked, "Did you have a point to telling me this?"

Alfred shook his head, "Not really. Just a memory I guess." He sat down and didn't speak again until the sun fell, simply played with the grass. Russia sat on the other side of the grave and watched him.

Alfred's phone buzzed at exactly eleven-fifty, letting him know that he only had ten minutes to live and that he should finish up. So, he stood up and smiled at Russia, "I had this thing set to tell me when I had ten minutes to live, and again at a minute after midnight, when you should give England a call and let him know that I died." He explained, "Now, one last person I need to say goodbye to."

Russia gave him a strange look as he stood up as well, "We don't have the time to go anywhere else."

Alfred waved his hand dismissively, "That's fine, because you're right here."

Russia looked at him in shock, "You want to say goodbye to me?"

Alfred nodded, "Of course. You're probably one of my oldest friends." He laughed, "That's not a jab at your age by the way."

Russia didn't look convinced, "Sure."

Alfred sobered up and pulled out his wallet, "I know I said that I gave the rest of my money to Italy, but I didn't really. I only gave about a third of it to them." He handed Russia a credit card and a debit card, "One of these is my personal bank account, and the other one is my national one. You already know the pin numbers to both."

"You're giving me the rest of you money." He didn't phrase it like a question, but Alfred answered anyway.

"Yep. You might need it for when Japan tries to take over the world. I mean, I don't think he's interested in that anymore but you can never be too careful with them."

Russia put the cards in his pocket and asked, "You've been smiling this whole time, are you really ready to die?"

Alfred shrugged, "I'm about as ready to die as Rome was." He pulled out his phone and checked the time, "Alright, we have five minutes. What should we do to pass the time?"

Russia pulled out a flask of vodka from his coat, "We can drink?"

Alfred laughed, "Why not?" He took it out of his hand and took a large swig before giving it back, "I wanted to go sober, but I don't think a little would hurt."

Russia gave a small smile and didn't respond to that. He knew that there was a time for talking and a time for silence. Still something bothered him, "Alfred?" The man hummed, "You said that there were ten things you wanted to do before you died."

Alfred turned his gaze to the stars and said, "Yeah. I'm glad that I got the chance to do them."

Russia shook his head, maintaining a steady gaze on the attractive American, "Did you? You went to my sisters and received a hug. That was one. You went to Lithuania and gave him some of your most valuable belongings. That's two." He held up fingers for each one that he said, "You went to England and got him and France back together. That's three. You went to Germany and stole his dog. That's four."

Alfred laughed and looked at him, "I will maintain that that one was probably my favorite so far."

Russia ignored him and continued counting them off, "You went to Japan and gave him his freedom. That's five. You went to China and paid him back. That's six. You went to Italy and gave them a large chunk of your money. That's seven. You went to Canada and told him how you feel about him. That was eight. Then you came here and gave me the rest of your money. That was nine."

As he was counting them off he didn't notice Alfred slowly walking closer and closer until they stood just a couple feet apart. He didn't pay much attention to the suddenly close American, much more focused on his point, "You only had time to complete nine of the ten things."

Alfred smiled at him, "You know, for a country as smart as yourself you can miss a whole lot of details." Russia frowned and Alfred explained, "I told you in the plane that the things that I would regret the most aren't the things that I have done, but rather the things that I haven't. I don't want my biggest regret to be the thing that I'm about to do."

Russia slowly caught on, "You told me that stealing Germany's dog was your favorite of the things that you've done so far ."

Alfred nodded, "And now, at a minute till midnight, I'm going to do something that I've wanted to do since the nineteenth century. I can already tell you that this is going to be my favorite thing that I’ve ever done."

When Russia opened his mouth to ask him what it was that he was planning on doing, Alfred closed the gap between them in a much more passionate kiss than he had given his sister. He pulled away to whisper, " I love you ." Against his mouth, before once again kissing him. This time Russia responded, wrapping his arms around the Amerian and pulling him tight against him. He felt Alfred smile into the kiss.

The phone alarm went off and when Russia pulled away to tell him that he loved him too, Alfred was gone.

He felt a tear roll down his cheek, and as he wiped it away he realized that he wasn't the one who had been crying. Alfred didn't want to leave.

#rusame #amerus #fruk #but fruk is a background ship #some angst #mostly fluff #america/russia #weird supernatural flight times #for the sake of plot #mature language

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