Re: Pride goeth before destruction [11/?]
anonymous
May 16 2009, 18:07:48 UTC
Thank you, OP!Anon. This author!anon is working on filling the kinks
Francis, Arthur decided with a definite sigh, was definitely going to be the bane of his existence. Him and that sloppy, no-good, obscenely cheerful American he had the indignity of calling ‘master.’
“Ah, mon cheri, I see you have settled in well,” the Frenchman in question sidled up to him when they bumped into each other in the drawing room. Arthur had just been cleaning, but now, faced with Francis he did an about-turn and tried to march right out until Francis flung an arm over Arthur’s shoulder, halting him. Just how had he managed to get in anyway? Arthur could not recall ever hearing the bell ring.
Stiffly, he flung his arm off. “Listen, git, I have a bone to pick with you!” he glared at Francis and his ridiculous clothes with all his might.
“Avec moi?” Francis smiled, feigning innocence.
Arthur tried to keep a handle on his temper, despite the fact that he was sure that he was being ridiculed again. “These clothes!” he ran a hand over the long coat. “I’m a servant and you’re making me dress like a gentleman? Are you trying to mock me?”
“You do not like the clothes?” Francis looked surprised, as if anyone could possibly dislike his taste in fashion. “What a selfish man. If you don’t like them you don’t have to wear them. If they displease you so much then take them off.”
Arthur yelped as Francis reached for the bow around his neck, quickly loosening it. The man was faster than he could have possibly imagined; by the time he realised the bow was undone, so were half of the buttons on his shirt and his coat was slipping off of his shoulders. Arthur was sure that he would have been fully undressed if not for the loud bang to the door.
“Francis!” Alfred’s face was much like the sound he had made; thunderous.
“Ah, mon ami! Francis immediately released Arthur - he sighed with relief - and held his hands up as if he had absolutely no part in what his hands decided to undress or molest.
“Don’t speak French to me!” Alfred glowered at him. “And keep your hands off of my servants!”
“I was only trying to help - ”
“Help my arse!” Arthur scowled.
“Yes, that’s exactly it.”
“Francis!”
The Frenchman smiled, letting his arms drop to his side. As if to show his goodwill, he took a further three steps away from Arthur, he was busily readjusting his clothing with a very red face and as much dignity as he could muster.
Alfred turned a sympathetic eye towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with this. Can you please ask Emily to bring some wine into the drawing room later?”
“Whatever,” Arthur shrugged. He was proud for the fact that he did not run right out of the room but those who observed him noticed a distinct briskness about his walk.
Unfortunately for him Emily was gone by the time he made it to the kitchen. He reminded himself with a groan that today was the day she usually went out to buy meat from the butcher’s. That only meant that he would have to take it upon himself to serve the wine, meaning he would inevitably have to return to the drawing room.
His hands shook with the humiliation of the whole affair as he poured the glasses. How dare that damn, slimy frog bastard try and touch him! Alfred was bad enough. Was he doomed to spend the rest of his days surrounded by perverts after his body like - like rabid men after a maiden?
Arthur’s face went as red as the wine recalling Alfred’s first attempts with him. Damn that man! Damn all mankind who did not know how to act like a proper gentleman! He seethed with the audacity of it! The disgrace! The - the absolute, utter, undeniable arrogance that man had shown in just about everything he did!
His energy deflated with the suddenness of a popped balloon. Why was he getting so worked up about Alfred? In fact, what was he doing ranting to himself like this? He had wine to serve.
By the time he returned, it sounded as if the two had already settled down, as had Arthur, though he often thought back to his rant and a small wave of depression would wash over him.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [12/?]
anonymous
May 16 2009, 18:08:46 UTC
The door to the drawing room had been left partially closed. Arthur raised his fist to knock but suddenly halted. Now that he thought about it, what did Alfred talk about with Francis? He knew that they were ‘friends’ - in the loosest sense of the word - but they were not in any business ventures together that would be a cause for them to have such serious discussions.
“You already have what you wanted, mon ami, I think you are pushing your luck,” Francis’ thick tone trickled through the slight crack between door and door post.
“Lady Luck loves me,” Alfred’s boasting could be clearly heard even without pressing an ear to the wood. “Besides, if they choose to play then that’s a risk they take. They just don’t learn.”
Francis sighed. “You already have what you wanted. Don’t provoke them.”
Laughter boomed. Arthur had never heard Alfred laugh as loudly as he did. “Are you worried about me, Francis?”
“I think you are being a fool, that’s all.” Displeasure gave an edge to his voice. “You know how vicious nobles can be, especially when they’re playing games and trust me, mon ami, all of life is a game to them. You already have what you wanted.”
There. Again. Arthur wondered what Francis meant when he kept repeating ‘you already have what you wanted.’ He knew that Alfred gambled - boasted about his good luck in the game - but were they also involved in something shady?
Well, it was none of his business, Arthur obstinately told himself and with that rapped his knuckles against the door before pushing it open.
“Your wine, sirs,” he announced, curling his tongue around the word ‘sirs’ so that it dripped with sarcasm.
“Arthur?” Alfred’s shock was the first to register in his brain. “I remember asking you to send Emily,” he stood, taking the decanter of wine from him. There was slight anger in his voice, not enough to really be recognisable but just enough to shake Arthur a bit.
“Emily is currently out shopping,” Arthur replied curtly. He did not want to be in the room a moment longer if he was going to be treated with such ingratitude.
Turning on his heels, he marched back to the kitchen, scowling to himself. What was that? Just because he had come instead of Emily was no reason for Alfred to get so upset, surely he was just as good as she was at serving him.
“Git!” he growled at the far wall. He flung a damp tea cloth at it, imagining that it was Alfred’s face.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [13/?]
anonymous
May 22 2009, 17:24:31 UTC
Anon apologises for the lateness! Anon got caught up in other prompts
XX
Arthur was still angry at how Alfred had treated him by the time he was ready to retire. Honestly, there was no reason for Alfred to have looked so upset when all he did was bring them wine instead of Emily.
Okay, so maybe he had eavesdropped on a conversation he should not have heard but how was Alfred to know? Besides he had no clue what they had been talking about, except that it probably involved gambling.
His foul mood was enough reason to throw Alfred out of his room when he entered that night without knocking. That man never had the decency to knock. What if he had been getting undressed?
“Is there something you want?” he snapped.
Alfred closed the door behind him. The click it made sounded a little too loud but Arthur had no time to dwell on that as Alfred silently proceeded to approach him.
“A - Alfred?” he stepped back. “What? Did you get into an argument with that wino again?”
He almost shrieked when Alfred flung his arms around his shoulders, pulling him against his chest. “I don’t feel like going to sleep. Why don’t you play with me?” he whispered suggestively but with none of his usual playfulness.
“...What’s wrong?” Arthur pushed him away.
“I want you to - ”
“Don’t give me that! Why are you acting so strange?” he snapped. This muteness was scaring him a little. He was used to a normal, audacious Alfred, not this quiet, serious one.
“I...okay, I’ll confess everything,” Alfred sighed. “Actually, to tell you the truth, I’m gravely ill. I think...it’s probably fatal.”
Arthur blinked. “...What?” Sickness? Fatal? As much as he hated the man, his heart began to race with fear.
“I...Arthur, I...” Alfred paused for dramatic effect. “...I have love sickness!”
Arthur whacked him around the side of the head so hard that Alfred stumbled back and fell on to the bed. “You bloody git!” he screamed at him, his face turning crimson. From this day forth he swore that he would never, ever believe a single word that man said.
“Don’t be so cruel! Can’t you see that I am dying?” Alfred lay flat against the bed, having his arms in the air as if writhing in pain, though his loud laughter did not help his cause.
“Go die in a ditch, pig!”
Alfred laughter dwindled into chuckles. “Okay, okay, I won’t joke about it anymore, but weren’t you seriously worried?” he asked, sitting up with a smile.
Arthur would ever admit that he was slightly relieved to see him return to his former self. No, he would rather die than admit something like that. “Don’t flatter yourself! If I was worried, it was only because I’d be on the streets if you died,” he retorted.
“You don’t mean that!”
“I do! I definitely do! I can’t wait to be rid of you!” he cried, turning his back on Alfred.
“...Arthur,” he whispered.
“Wh - What is it now?” Arthur turned and, as he did so, found himself smacking straight into Alfred’s chest. The man’s arms descended upon him, trapping him there.
“Arthur,” he whispered, resting his chin on Arthur’s shoulder.
“W - What?”
Alfred kissed his ear without reply and Arthur had to briefly wonder why he was letting this git have his way with him again.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [14/?]
anonymous
May 22 2009, 17:25:56 UTC
XX
“Ah, mon cheri, Arthur!”
Once again, Arthur found himself caught by Francis again as he was making his cleaning rounds.
“How do you always manage to sneak inside?” he snapped. If he did not know better he would have thought that the man actually broke into the manor to do all sorts of lewd things.
“A trade secret,” Francis winked. “Mon ami, Alfred is not home yet?”
“He’s out playing that terrible game he likes so much,” Arthur grumbled. It was worse when Alfred was not in; there was no one to save him this time if Francis decided that his clothes were getting a little too small for him.
However, groping him was something that Francis would settle for later Digging into his breast pocket he produced a piece of paper and handed it to Arthur. “Ah then perhaps I can send you on an errand? It is important that he gets this soon. Here, I will write down directions.”
Arthur grudgingly took the note and excused himself. At least this way there was no chance of being molested. He was disappointed to see, however, that apart from the directions the note Francis had given him was in some sort of code.
“This is definitely shady!” he muttered, pocketing both note and directions as he made his way to the gambling houses.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [15/?]
anonymous
May 24 2009, 22:08:05 UTC
Arthur approached gambling house with more than a little caution. He had never seen a gambling house before, of course he had not; he was from a well-to-do family! Ignoring the fact that his brothers often gambled, he had never had any desire to throw money away.
The current establishment looked more like a whore house without the whores, not that he had ever been to the red light district either!
The doorman was a squat but muscular man with more hairs in his nose than his entire head. Plucking up his courage, he approached him, clearing his throat loudly so that he could be heard over the loud voices coming from within.
“I’m here with a message for Mr Alfred Jones.”
The man fixed him in his sight, scowling as if he resented being forced to do his job. Grumbling under his breath, he hoped from the stool where he had been half-sleeping and unlocked the iron door, leading him into a place with nefariously narrow corridors with purple walls and disgustingly ruddy red carpets stained with alcohol.
“Can’t he gamble in a more refined place,” Arthur hissed under his breath. Stupid Alfred and his stupid habits!
The man brought him along a series of doors. Muffled voices shouted behind the oak, sounds of struggles and even the odd scream made Arthur jump.
“The one on th’ end,” the doorman grunted, thrusting his thumb in the direction of the last door at the end of the corridor before ambling back to his post.
Arthur forgot to thank the man, not that he had really done anything to be thanked. He was too busy staring at the door as though it were a portal to the underworld. This was shady. This was definitely shady.
He chided himself for being so weak. No, he would go in there, march up to that idiot Alfred, and give him a piece of his mind about gambling and how it corrupted the soul or something! His hand as already firmly wrapped around the handle when his courage was suddenly drained by the angry shouts coming from within.
“Damn you Jones! You cheated!”
It figured that someone would be angry with Alfred. That was not what caused him to pause. Though muffled, he knew that voice.
“Don’t be such a sore loser, I never use underhanded tricks,” he could hear the glee on Alfred’s voice.
“Dammit, my entire fortune is riding on this!”
“B - Brother?” Arthur whispered and pressed his ear to the door.
“Maybe you should quit,” Alfred advised.
“Screw you! I’ve already lost this much!”
Yes, his brother had already lost their estates and almost all of their wealth Was that not why they sold him To pay for their debts? Yet now his stupid brother was doing the same thing he had before, only this time they would not be able to sell him again if they got into trouble.
Arthur could hear Alfred sigh. “If you insist.”
“Bastard, is taking my little brother not enough for you?”
“I was under the impression that you didn’t like him. Besides I - ”
There was a loud thud, which sounded distinctly like someone slamming something down on the table.
“Don’t screw with me! This is all your fault! In fact you were the one who suggested we sell him to pay off the money we owed! You said that you would help cover our debts if we did!”
Arthur jerked his head back, his heart thumping. Alfred had really said that? But that was impossible, how had Alfred even been aware of his existence before that day when he had been sold as a slave? Had this whole thing been orchestrated by him? Arthur could not imagine why.
His hands curled into tight fists. He did not know why this sudden realisation hurt him either. It was as if someone had driven a stake into his chest, it was a burning fire that continually seared him without relief. He always knew that man had been rotten, hadn’t he? He always knew that man had been no good.
“What did I ever do to you?” Arthur muttered, turning his back to the door.
Francis, Arthur decided with a definite sigh, was definitely going to be the bane of his existence. Him and that sloppy, no-good, obscenely cheerful American he had the indignity of calling ‘master.’
“Ah, mon cheri, I see you have settled in well,” the Frenchman in question sidled up to him when they bumped into each other in the drawing room. Arthur had just been cleaning, but now, faced with Francis he did an about-turn and tried to march right out until Francis flung an arm over Arthur’s shoulder, halting him. Just how had he managed to get in anyway? Arthur could not recall ever hearing the bell ring.
Stiffly, he flung his arm off. “Listen, git, I have a bone to pick with you!” he glared at Francis and his ridiculous clothes with all his might.
“Avec moi?” Francis smiled, feigning innocence.
Arthur tried to keep a handle on his temper, despite the fact that he was sure that he was being ridiculed again. “These clothes!” he ran a hand over the long coat. “I’m a servant and you’re making me dress like a gentleman? Are you trying to mock me?”
“You do not like the clothes?” Francis looked surprised, as if anyone could possibly dislike his taste in fashion. “What a selfish man. If you don’t like them you don’t have to wear them. If they displease you so much then take them off.”
Arthur yelped as Francis reached for the bow around his neck, quickly loosening it. The man was faster than he could have possibly imagined; by the time he realised the bow was undone, so were half of the buttons on his shirt and his coat was slipping off of his shoulders. Arthur was sure that he would have been fully undressed if not for the loud bang to the door.
“Francis!” Alfred’s face was much like the sound he had made; thunderous.
“Ah, mon ami! Francis immediately released Arthur - he sighed with relief - and held his hands up as if he had absolutely no part in what his hands decided to undress or molest.
“Don’t speak French to me!” Alfred glowered at him. “And keep your hands off of my servants!”
“I was only trying to help - ”
“Help my arse!” Arthur scowled.
“Yes, that’s exactly it.”
“Francis!”
The Frenchman smiled, letting his arms drop to his side. As if to show his goodwill, he took a further three steps away from Arthur, he was busily readjusting his clothing with a very red face and as much dignity as he could muster.
Alfred turned a sympathetic eye towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with this. Can you please ask Emily to bring some wine into the drawing room later?”
“Whatever,” Arthur shrugged. He was proud for the fact that he did not run right out of the room but those who observed him noticed a distinct briskness about his walk.
Unfortunately for him Emily was gone by the time he made it to the kitchen. He reminded himself with a groan that today was the day she usually went out to buy meat from the butcher’s. That only meant that he would have to take it upon himself to serve the wine, meaning he would inevitably have to return to the drawing room.
His hands shook with the humiliation of the whole affair as he poured the glasses. How dare that damn, slimy frog bastard try and touch him! Alfred was bad enough. Was he doomed to spend the rest of his days surrounded by perverts after his body like - like rabid men after a maiden?
Arthur’s face went as red as the wine recalling Alfred’s first attempts with him. Damn that man! Damn all mankind who did not know how to act like a proper gentleman! He seethed with the audacity of it! The disgrace! The - the absolute, utter, undeniable arrogance that man had shown in just about everything he did!
His energy deflated with the suddenness of a popped balloon. Why was he getting so worked up about Alfred? In fact, what was he doing ranting to himself like this? He had wine to serve.
By the time he returned, it sounded as if the two had already settled down, as had Arthur, though he often thought back to his rant and a small wave of depression would wash over him.
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The door to the drawing room had been left partially closed. Arthur raised his fist to knock but suddenly halted. Now that he thought about it, what did Alfred talk about with Francis? He knew that they were ‘friends’ - in the loosest sense of the word - but they were not in any business ventures together that would be a cause for them to have such serious discussions.
“You already have what you wanted, mon ami, I think you are pushing your luck,” Francis’ thick tone trickled through the slight crack between door and door post.
“Lady Luck loves me,” Alfred’s boasting could be clearly heard even without pressing an ear to the wood. “Besides, if they choose to play then that’s a risk they take. They just don’t learn.”
Francis sighed. “You already have what you wanted. Don’t provoke them.”
Laughter boomed. Arthur had never heard Alfred laugh as loudly as he did. “Are you worried about me, Francis?”
“I think you are being a fool, that’s all.” Displeasure gave an edge to his voice. “You know how vicious nobles can be, especially when they’re playing games and trust me, mon ami, all of life is a game to them. You already have what you wanted.”
There. Again. Arthur wondered what Francis meant when he kept repeating ‘you already have what you wanted.’ He knew that Alfred gambled - boasted about his good luck in the game - but were they also involved in something shady?
Well, it was none of his business, Arthur obstinately told himself and with that rapped his knuckles against the door before pushing it open.
“Your wine, sirs,” he announced, curling his tongue around the word ‘sirs’ so that it dripped with sarcasm.
“Arthur?” Alfred’s shock was the first to register in his brain. “I remember asking you to send Emily,” he stood, taking the decanter of wine from him. There was slight anger in his voice, not enough to really be recognisable but just enough to shake Arthur a bit.
“Emily is currently out shopping,” Arthur replied curtly. He did not want to be in the room a moment longer if he was going to be treated with such ingratitude.
Turning on his heels, he marched back to the kitchen, scowling to himself. What was that? Just because he had come instead of Emily was no reason for Alfred to get so upset, surely he was just as good as she was at serving him.
“Git!” he growled at the far wall. He flung a damp tea cloth at it, imagining that it was Alfred’s face.
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ILU author anon!
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F5F5F5F5F5
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XX
Arthur was still angry at how Alfred had treated him by the time he was ready to retire. Honestly, there was no reason for Alfred to have looked so upset when all he did was bring them wine instead of Emily.
Okay, so maybe he had eavesdropped on a conversation he should not have heard but how was Alfred to know? Besides he had no clue what they had been talking about, except that it probably involved gambling.
His foul mood was enough reason to throw Alfred out of his room when he entered that night without knocking. That man never had the decency to knock. What if he had been getting undressed?
“Is there something you want?” he snapped.
Alfred closed the door behind him. The click it made sounded a little too loud but Arthur had no time to dwell on that as Alfred silently proceeded to approach him.
“A - Alfred?” he stepped back. “What? Did you get into an argument with that wino again?”
He almost shrieked when Alfred flung his arms around his shoulders, pulling him against his chest. “I don’t feel like going to sleep. Why don’t you play with me?” he whispered suggestively but with none of his usual playfulness.
“...What’s wrong?” Arthur pushed him away.
“I want you to - ”
“Don’t give me that! Why are you acting so strange?” he snapped. This muteness was scaring him a little. He was used to a normal, audacious Alfred, not this quiet, serious one.
“I...okay, I’ll confess everything,” Alfred sighed. “Actually, to tell you the truth, I’m gravely ill. I think...it’s probably fatal.”
Arthur blinked. “...What?” Sickness? Fatal? As much as he hated the man, his heart began to race with fear.
“I...Arthur, I...” Alfred paused for dramatic effect. “...I have love sickness!”
Arthur whacked him around the side of the head so hard that Alfred stumbled back and fell on to the bed. “You bloody git!” he screamed at him, his face turning crimson. From this day forth he swore that he would never, ever believe a single word that man said.
“Don’t be so cruel! Can’t you see that I am dying?” Alfred lay flat against the bed, having his arms in the air as if writhing in pain, though his loud laughter did not help his cause.
“Go die in a ditch, pig!”
Alfred laughter dwindled into chuckles. “Okay, okay, I won’t joke about it anymore, but weren’t you seriously worried?” he asked, sitting up with a smile.
Arthur would ever admit that he was slightly relieved to see him return to his former self. No, he would rather die than admit something like that. “Don’t flatter yourself! If I was worried, it was only because I’d be on the streets if you died,” he retorted.
“You don’t mean that!”
“I do! I definitely do! I can’t wait to be rid of you!” he cried, turning his back on Alfred.
“...Arthur,” he whispered.
“Wh - What is it now?” Arthur turned and, as he did so, found himself smacking straight into Alfred’s chest. The man’s arms descended upon him, trapping him there.
“Arthur,” he whispered, resting his chin on Arthur’s shoulder.
“W - What?”
Alfred kissed his ear without reply and Arthur had to briefly wonder why he was letting this git have his way with him again.
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“Ah, mon cheri, Arthur!”
Once again, Arthur found himself caught by Francis again as he was making his cleaning rounds.
“How do you always manage to sneak inside?” he snapped. If he did not know better he would have thought that the man actually broke into the manor to do all sorts of lewd things.
“A trade secret,” Francis winked. “Mon ami, Alfred is not home yet?”
“He’s out playing that terrible game he likes so much,” Arthur grumbled. It was worse when Alfred was not in; there was no one to save him this time if Francis decided that his clothes were getting a little too small for him.
However, groping him was something that Francis would settle for later Digging into his breast pocket he produced a piece of paper and handed it to Arthur. “Ah then perhaps I can send you on an errand? It is important that he gets this soon. Here, I will write down directions.”
Arthur grudgingly took the note and excused himself. At least this way there was no chance of being molested. He was disappointed to see, however, that apart from the directions the note Francis had given him was in some sort of code.
“This is definitely shady!” he muttered, pocketing both note and directions as he made his way to the gambling houses.
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I can't wait to read more ♥
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Oh God, cliffhanger. ♥
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The current establishment looked more like a whore house without the whores, not that he had ever been to the red light district either!
The doorman was a squat but muscular man with more hairs in his nose than his entire head. Plucking up his courage, he approached him, clearing his throat loudly so that he could be heard over the loud voices coming from within.
“I’m here with a message for Mr Alfred Jones.”
The man fixed him in his sight, scowling as if he resented being forced to do his job. Grumbling under his breath, he hoped from the stool where he had been half-sleeping and unlocked the iron door, leading him into a place with nefariously narrow corridors with purple walls and disgustingly ruddy red carpets stained with alcohol.
“Can’t he gamble in a more refined place,” Arthur hissed under his breath. Stupid Alfred and his stupid habits!
The man brought him along a series of doors. Muffled voices shouted behind the oak, sounds of struggles and even the odd scream made Arthur jump.
“The one on th’ end,” the doorman grunted, thrusting his thumb in the direction of the last door at the end of the corridor before ambling back to his post.
Arthur forgot to thank the man, not that he had really done anything to be thanked. He was too busy staring at the door as though it were a portal to the underworld. This was shady. This was definitely shady.
He chided himself for being so weak. No, he would go in there, march up to that idiot Alfred, and give him a piece of his mind about gambling and how it corrupted the soul or something! His hand as already firmly wrapped around the handle when his courage was suddenly drained by the angry shouts coming from within.
“Damn you Jones! You cheated!”
It figured that someone would be angry with Alfred. That was not what caused him to pause. Though muffled, he knew that voice.
“Don’t be such a sore loser, I never use underhanded tricks,” he could hear the glee on Alfred’s voice.
“Dammit, my entire fortune is riding on this!”
“B - Brother?” Arthur whispered and pressed his ear to the door.
“Maybe you should quit,” Alfred advised.
“Screw you! I’ve already lost this much!”
Yes, his brother had already lost their estates and almost all of their wealth Was that not why they sold him To pay for their debts? Yet now his stupid brother was doing the same thing he had before, only this time they would not be able to sell him again if they got into trouble.
Arthur could hear Alfred sigh. “If you insist.”
“Bastard, is taking my little brother not enough for you?”
“I was under the impression that you didn’t like him. Besides I - ”
There was a loud thud, which sounded distinctly like someone slamming something down on the table.
“Don’t screw with me! This is all your fault! In fact you were the one who suggested we sell him to pay off the money we owed! You said that you would help cover our debts if we did!”
Arthur jerked his head back, his heart thumping. Alfred had really said that? But that was impossible, how had Alfred even been aware of his existence before that day when he had been sold as a slave? Had this whole thing been orchestrated by him? Arthur could not imagine why.
His hands curled into tight fists. He did not know why this sudden realisation hurt him either. It was as if someone had driven a stake into his chest, it was a burning fire that continually seared him without relief. He always knew that man had been rotten, hadn’t he? He always knew that man had been no good.
“What did I ever do to you?” Arthur muttered, turning his back to the door.
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Arthur! Don't be so mad at Alfred. ♥
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B-but he did it out of lust love, Arthur?
Anyway, Alfred is not the only one to blame, he just suggested it and your brother went through with it~
D:
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Can't wait for more Writer!Anon~
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S-Something in me is heartwarmimg though that Arthur's brothers really didn't want to sell him, but yeah. -bricked-
But fffff, will be checking for updates like no tomorrow. -spams F5-
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