The Rise of Britannia Part 2 [1/?]
anonymous
June 9 2009, 00:10:18 UTC
Mods! This is a continuation of a fill. I don't know where to put this so hopefully it'll be okay here? Guys (everyone who commented here, you guys are amazing. And I apologize for taking so long but finals killed me. ^^;
Alfred knew it wouldn’t be easy to win the war. He’s known of Britain’s conquests, told to him from ages ago as bedtime stories. And he knows that Arthur is probably the strongest there is - after all, he’s remained an independent nation for centuries with only limited help from others (for even the best get tired). But for a time, America was winning! America had, along with France and Spain, pushed Britain into a corner, and kept him there! It was only a matter of wills now… or so Alfred thought.
Just when, just how did Arthur catch up so quickly?
Alfred still remembers when he first proposed the idea to Francis and Antonio, the two who were strong enough to oppose Arthur and therefore the two others who would have the most reason to fight. But when he told them of his desires, they laughed.
“You’re at least a hundred years too young to be fighting against one of us, much less him,” Antonio advised, standing behind the sitting Alfred to pat him on the shoulders. He meant it to be friendly; eyes crinkling with his smile, but Alfred only took offense to it.
Francis made a sound to indicate his agreement, patting the young nation on the head affectionately. “If he’s treating you badly, just tell your Brother here and I’ll handle it.”
Alfred scowled. Was no one going to believe he was serious about this? Angrily, Alfred slapped away Francis’ hand and pushed his chair backwards, almost crushing Antonio’s foot in the process. He glared at them indignantly and revealed documents from his bag. Battle plans, tactics and strategies, fort locations, even the first draft of the Declaration of Independence. The two older countries stared at the blond in awe, neither of them believing that Alfred had actually thought the entire thing through.
Spain was the first to react. He laughed and agreed to help the young nation. (“I suppose it’s time to show him who’s boss.”). Francis hesitated, but soon agreed too. And Alfred suddenly realized that this was the first time he’s able to play a role in politics - he loved it, wanted more of it.
Alfred heaved a heavy sigh, grimacing at the pain at his side. At the exact moment, a messenger entered the room. “Sir, South Carolina has been taken.”
Alfred dismissed the messenger, and stared at the faces of the people in the room; generals and politicians shared identical expressions of despair and unease.
Was he really going to lose, after winning for so long?
“Sir, you cannot enter yet! The meeting is still going-“ Francis entered the room with a flourish, and Alfred was forced to dismiss the guard. The older man kneeled down to Alfred’s sitting height. “Mon cher, I’m afraid we will need to talk plans of surrender.” Francis smiled sadly when he saw the stubbornness in Alfred’s eyes, but didn’t waver from his position. He pulled him into an embrace and whispered into Alfred’s ears, “Before you suffer another crippling defeat.”
And Alfred almost agreed. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss being with Arthur again, the easy life he had years and years ago. But if he surrendered with nothing to show, he’d be forever a brat to the eyes of the world; an ungrateful yet still dependent child that Arthur raised nearly single-handedly. What would America be to the world then?
Alfred inhaled deeply and pushed Francis away. “I will never surrender.”
--
The day was turning out to be quite excellent, Arthur decided. Things were going well, ever since he’s gained his new powers. Just as the woman - C.C. Arthur managed to learn, promised, he’s been given the power to keep his family together. He’s taken yet another fort, the sixth one now - it was only a matter of time before the young nation realized the futility of his actions. But it would be a long while until then, Arthur predicts. If there was anything Alfred inherited from the older nation, it was his stubbornness and pride.
Re: The Rise of Britannia Part 2 [2/2]
anonymous
June 9 2009, 00:13:41 UTC
Startled, Arthur laughed awkwardly. To kill the time as his troops raided the fort to make sure all American soldiers were captured, he was playing a game of chess with the mysterious woman, who has not since that incident spoke of Arthur’s side of the bargain.
“My apologies, C.C.” Arthur forces his attention on the game before him, assessing his opponent’s latest move. Arthur was by no means a serious chess player, but he didn’t like to lose either and he’s already made the mistake of underestimating C.C in a battle of wits. She had quite the logical mind, Arthur mused; his left side has been completely sealed off by a bishop and a knight. She smiled back at Arthur, taunting him with her unspoken dare while toying with a captured pawn.
Arthur moved his piece, a move that denied her the satisfaction of taking another pawn. He would persevere.
--
This would be the final attack, a win-all or lose-all. Alfred smiled sadly at the horizon feeling weary and bone-tired from all the fighting of the past year. His troops shared his expression though there was still fire in their eyes, dulled by numerous defeats but still there.
This was going to be a showdown between America and Britain, just between Alfred and Arthur.
Alfred’s horse neighed in anticipation, battle instincts in full-drive when Arthur arrived. The older man was on a white mare and exuding an aura of confidence that engulfed his troops with a white light. And Alfred had never missed and hated anyone at the same time until now.
“Surrender, America. Your army is no match to mine.” Alfred gritted his teeth at the request, picking up the part that Arthur left out. “Not now, without the support of France and Spain.”
“Never, not until these lands are free from Britain’s oppressive and heavy chains!”
At Alfred’s words, his army roared, raising their weapons like swords. His army’s enthusiasm gave him renewed energy and courage. Arthur was confident, but there were still purple bags under his eyes; perhaps, maybe… even if it was just a slight chance! Flashing a grin, Alfred ordered his troops to fight.
On the other side of the field, Arthur grimaced. Stubborn, so very stubborn. But Alfred did know what it meant to be a nation - would’ve been a wonderful nation if only he’d let himself grow into his destined power. To fight against Britain and lose now was to surrender any sovereignty the young blond gained over the years. “I’m sorry, Alfred.”
The British soldiers charged.
--
Blood, gunfire, the screams of pain from full=grown men - paintings made war too romantic a notion.
The field was slowly dyed a deep crimson.
--
This was pathetic fallacy at its best. The rain was cooling, washing away the smell of death and hiding the tears Alfred had relentlessly blinked away to no avail. Arthur grinned grimly at him; pointing the tip of his bayonet against Alfred’s neck. “Surrender, Alfred.”
Alfred looked up to see Arthur’s face. His eyes reflected his relief and fatigue from the past thirteen years. But most annoyingly, most frustratingly of all, Arthur’s eyes reflected sadness and pity.
Defeat tasted bitter in his mouth. But what could he do? His army was already reduced to a third of hit size. And if he couldn’t show his power as a nation, he’ll at least show his responsibility as one.
“I”, a shaky breath “surrender.”
Sorry for Arthur not being crazy with power yet. This chapter was pretty uneventful. btw, yes. This story will be multipart; the idea just demands it. Oh god, it's a bigger fill than I anticipated.
Re: The Rise of Britannia Part 2 [2/2]
anonymous
June 12 2009, 05:47:58 UTC
I was sort of worried how someone'd take a prompt like this, but I think you pulled it off beautifully!
Arthur feels a little off his rocker, and oh poor Alfred; I feel so bad for him because he's losing since Arthur is using... "underhanded means" but I really can't wait for what happens now, since he's surrendered!
Guys (everyone who commented here, you guys are amazing. And I apologize for taking so long but finals killed me. ^^;
Alfred knew it wouldn’t be easy to win the war. He’s known of Britain’s conquests, told to him from ages ago as bedtime stories. And he knows that Arthur is probably the strongest there is - after all, he’s remained an independent nation for centuries with only limited help from others (for even the best get tired). But for a time, America was winning! America had, along with France and Spain, pushed Britain into a corner, and kept him there! It was only a matter of wills now… or so Alfred thought.
Just when, just how did Arthur catch up so quickly?
Alfred still remembers when he first proposed the idea to Francis and Antonio, the two who were strong enough to oppose Arthur and therefore the two others who would have the most reason to fight. But when he told them of his desires, they laughed.
“You’re at least a hundred years too young to be fighting against one of us, much less him,” Antonio advised, standing behind the sitting Alfred to pat him on the shoulders. He meant it to be friendly; eyes crinkling with his smile, but Alfred only took offense to it.
Francis made a sound to indicate his agreement, patting the young nation on the head affectionately. “If he’s treating you badly, just tell your Brother here and I’ll handle it.”
Alfred scowled. Was no one going to believe he was serious about this? Angrily, Alfred slapped away Francis’ hand and pushed his chair backwards, almost crushing Antonio’s foot in the process. He glared at them indignantly and revealed documents from his bag. Battle plans, tactics and strategies, fort locations, even the first draft of the Declaration of Independence. The two older countries stared at the blond in awe, neither of them believing that Alfred had actually thought the entire thing through.
Spain was the first to react. He laughed and agreed to help the young nation. (“I suppose it’s time to show him who’s boss.”). Francis hesitated, but soon agreed too. And Alfred suddenly realized that this was the first time he’s able to play a role in politics - he loved it, wanted more of it.
Alfred heaved a heavy sigh, grimacing at the pain at his side. At the exact moment, a messenger entered the room. “Sir, South Carolina has been taken.”
Alfred dismissed the messenger, and stared at the faces of the people in the room; generals and politicians shared identical expressions of despair and unease.
Was he really going to lose, after winning for so long?
“Sir, you cannot enter yet! The meeting is still going-“ Francis entered the room with a flourish, and Alfred was forced to dismiss the guard. The older man kneeled down to Alfred’s sitting height. “Mon cher, I’m afraid we will need to talk plans of surrender.” Francis smiled sadly when he saw the stubbornness in Alfred’s eyes, but didn’t waver from his position. He pulled him into an embrace and whispered into Alfred’s ears, “Before you suffer another crippling defeat.”
And Alfred almost agreed. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss being with Arthur again, the easy life he had years and years ago. But if he surrendered with nothing to show, he’d be forever a brat to the eyes of the world; an ungrateful yet still dependent child that Arthur raised nearly single-handedly. What would America be to the world then?
Alfred inhaled deeply and pushed Francis away. “I will never surrender.”
--
The day was turning out to be quite excellent, Arthur decided. Things were going well, ever since he’s gained his new powers. Just as the woman - C.C. Arthur managed to learn, promised, he’s been given the power to keep his family together. He’s taken yet another fort, the sixth one now - it was only a matter of time before the young nation realized the futility of his actions. But it would be a long while until then, Arthur predicts. If there was anything Alfred inherited from the older nation, it was his stubbornness and pride.
“Arthur, it’s your turn.”
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“My apologies, C.C.” Arthur forces his attention on the game before him, assessing his opponent’s latest move. Arthur was by no means a serious chess player, but he didn’t like to lose either and he’s already made the mistake of underestimating C.C in a battle of wits. She had quite the logical mind, Arthur mused; his left side has been completely sealed off by a bishop and a knight. She smiled back at Arthur, taunting him with her unspoken dare while toying with a captured pawn.
Arthur moved his piece, a move that denied her the satisfaction of taking another pawn. He would persevere.
--
This would be the final attack, a win-all or lose-all. Alfred smiled sadly at the horizon feeling weary and bone-tired from all the fighting of the past year. His troops shared his expression though there was still fire in their eyes, dulled by numerous defeats but still there.
This was going to be a showdown between America and Britain, just between Alfred and Arthur.
Alfred’s horse neighed in anticipation, battle instincts in full-drive when Arthur arrived. The older man was on a white mare and exuding an aura of confidence that engulfed his troops with a white light. And Alfred had never missed and hated anyone at the same time until now.
“Surrender, America. Your army is no match to mine.” Alfred gritted his teeth at the request, picking up the part that Arthur left out. “Not now, without the support of France and Spain.”
“Never, not until these lands are free from Britain’s oppressive and heavy chains!”
At Alfred’s words, his army roared, raising their weapons like swords. His army’s enthusiasm gave him renewed energy and courage. Arthur was confident, but there were still purple bags under his eyes; perhaps, maybe… even if it was just a slight chance! Flashing a grin, Alfred ordered his troops to fight.
On the other side of the field, Arthur grimaced. Stubborn, so very stubborn. But Alfred did know what it meant to be a nation - would’ve been a wonderful nation if only he’d let himself grow into his destined power. To fight against Britain and lose now was to surrender any sovereignty the young blond gained over the years. “I’m sorry, Alfred.”
The British soldiers charged.
--
Blood, gunfire, the screams of pain from full=grown men - paintings made war too romantic a notion.
The field was slowly dyed a deep crimson.
--
This was pathetic fallacy at its best. The rain was cooling, washing away the smell of death and hiding the tears Alfred had relentlessly blinked away to no avail. Arthur grinned grimly at him; pointing the tip of his bayonet against Alfred’s neck. “Surrender, Alfred.”
Alfred looked up to see Arthur’s face. His eyes reflected his relief and fatigue from the past thirteen years. But most annoyingly, most frustratingly of all, Arthur’s eyes reflected sadness and pity.
Defeat tasted bitter in his mouth. But what could he do? His army was already reduced to a third of hit size. And if he couldn’t show his power as a nation, he’ll at least show his responsibility as one.
“I”, a shaky breath “surrender.”
Sorry for Arthur not being crazy with power yet. This chapter was pretty uneventful. btw, yes. This story will be multipart; the idea just demands it. Oh god, it's a bigger fill than I anticipated.
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Arthur feels a little off his rocker, and oh poor Alfred; I feel so bad for him because he's losing since Arthur is using... "underhanded means" but I really can't wait for what happens now, since he's surrendered!
Please update soon! ♥
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