[APH] Alfred the Noble [USUK]
Title: Alfred the Noble
Character(s)/Pairing(s): America and England; USUK
Rating: PG
Warnings: Lots of history, and referencing some medieval torture.
Summary: America has always assumed he was named for Alfred the Great. England tells him otherwise.
Notes: I've had this as a drabble for literal months, ever since I first learned about this person in my medieval England class. Anyway, this is my headcanon for why America's human name is 'Alfred'. Boatloads of history, everything was gleaned from my class notes. Please enjoy!
~*~
“So, this guy, Alfred the Great? He was ballin’.” Arthur glanced up from his book to see Alfred slump down into the armchair across from him. They were sitting in the luxurious lobby of the grand Venetian hotel they were staying in for the upcoming European Continental Conference. Alfred was there for kicks.
Arthur licked a finger and turned the page in his book, his eyes trained on Alfred the entire time.
“And what, praytell, made you come to such a conclusion?” Arthur asked, sliding one leg over the other knee thoughtfully. Alfred grinned at Arthur.
“Well, I’m named after him right? I mean, you made that decision, and his name does have ‘Great’ in the title, so I decided to look up some stuff-“
“You know how to do research?”
“-and he did some really amazing things,” Alfred finished, choosing to ignore Arthur’s rude interjection. “Like, like all that stuff with Denmark. And Sweden. Did they really do that to you?”
“What, invade? Yes, it was the Middle Ages, everyone invaded everyone else,” Arthur said, frowning. Why were they talking about this? Alfred sniggered and pulled a Twinkie out of his pocket.
“Oh, get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Well, you put it there. Like how you named me for Alfred the Great!” At that, Arthur lowered his book to his lap.
“Now what makes you so sure you were named for him?” Arthur asked. Alfred shrugged.
“Well, you really pulled that name outta thin air, I gotta admit, and there’s no other famous Alfred in your history, and you were so into me being a colony and all, so I just figured-it’s gotta be this guy.” Arthur nodded slowly, and Alfred smiled triumphantly.
“I mean... those are good assertions,” Arthur said, and even he was momentarily surprised at Alfred’s deduction skills. “But it’s not true.” Alfred stopped chewing and stared at Arthur, his eyebrows twitching above his big blue eyes.
“Wait, what? How can it not be Alfred the Great?” Alfred asked through bits of clotted cream and dehydrated pastry. Arthur grimaced at the sight.
“Can’t you eat like a human being?” he said, and Alfred swallowed, but he moved to the hassock between the two of them and was practically in Arthur’s freaking lap-
“So? Who is it then?” Alfred prodded. “Or-are you going to tell me there isn’t a cool story with my name?” Arthur shushed him by placing one thin finger to his lips.
“Honestly, it’s like you’re still a wee little thing sometimes,” Arthur said, exasperated with Alfred’s actions (as always.) “There is another Alfred I named you for. When I was being forced to come up with a human name for you, well... he was the first person I thought of.”
“So? Who was he?” Alfred asked impatiently. He was acting like a cat begging for more tuna or something equally as ridiculous. Arthur gently pushed on his chest to keep him at bay.
“He was the brother of a dear friend,” Arthur began, and Alfred raised his eyebrows once more. “A friend I wasn’t meant to have. I was still very young-England was still in the process of unifying-and there was a dispute over who should be king, of course.” Alfred rolled his eyes and Arthur knew he was about to make a quip about the uselessness of monarchy, and Arthur steamrolled through his thoughts. “There was a queen who bore several sons, but the youngest two were banished to Hungary after their father passed. She re-married and bore more children, but that man, then king, had other illegitimate children of his own.” Alfred nodded slowly. Arthur cleared his throat and shifted his position.
“The elder of the two banished sons was Edward. His brother was named Alfred. Edward was, of course, the rightful heir to the throne-his older brother had passed long ago-but his mother wasn’t allowing it to happen. It wasn’t until her husband passed, that Edward advanced on the throne.
“But there was an evil man, Godwin, who didn’t want to see Edward on the throne. He wanted Harold, some bastard child or something. I didn’t like him,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “I don’t remember much about him, but I do remember him smelling strongly of sewage.” Alfred stared at Arthur as Arthur scrunched up his face in disgust.
“That’s gross,” Alfred muttered, but now he wanted to hear more about this mysterious Alfred. Was he a knight? Or did he do something equally as brave and awesome? Did he become king of England? Or did he fight for the new king? All sorts of exciting possibilities raced through Alfred’s mind, but he quelled them when Arthur began speaking again.
“When Edward finally became king, I had known him for several years by that point,” Arthur said, staring at a corner of the room. “Godwin wanted Harold to be king, and so he captured Alfred-and poked out his eyes with hot iron rods.” Alfred stared at Arthur, his mouth agape, a look of confusion and disgust in his eyes.
“Wait, what? He had his eyes poked out?” Alfred cried, a little too loudly, and the concierge shot them a dirty look. Arthur rolled his eyes.
“Yes, these things happen. Anyway, Alfred died of his injuries, and well-Edward never got over it. He loved his brother, they were all each other had growing up,” Arthur continued, and his voice became softer. “They were exiled by their own mother.”
“Why?” Alfred asked, but Arthur just shrugged in response. He trained his green eyes over Alfred’s face, and he absently pushed his unruly bangs from his forehead, letting his fingers graze his cheek.
“I don’t know,” Arthur finally answered. “Edward, he was heartbroken. He was in a terrible condition for days and days, and even though I was very young then, I understood that something terrible had happened.
“He pulled me aside and told me to disregard tears, but to cry if you want to. Be strong, but allow your emotions to come out sometimes, or you’ll be...” Arthur trailed off and coughed into his hand, his cheeks flushed. Alfred was listening intently to his story.
“Anyway, I told Edward that I would honor his brother one day, somehow. I remember Edward just thought I was being a foolish child, but I... I never forgot. Even when I was colonizing in other places, the name... I had to save it for something special.” He looked away from his hands and into Alfred’s eyes, and Alfred stared back, his heart pounding in his chest.
“When you were a wee little lad, and I was being pressured into giving you a human name, I looked down at you and I saw him. I saw Alfred. I saw his hopes and dreams, and how, even though he lived in exile, he was still hopeful. And when his brother became king, he helped him as much as he could. He was so optimistic and he just loved his brother so much... he wanted to change the world, I think,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “I was never sure. But I knew I had found the person who would represent such a great man.” The corner of Alfred’s lips twitched into a smile, and he leaned back, seemingly satisfied with the story.
“I like it,” he said as Arthur was picking up his book. “It has meaning.” Arthur grinned and extended his arm to Alfred, who gladly climbed up onto the sofa and curled into his beau’s embrace. Arthur began stroking Alfred’s head, running his fingers through his blonde locks.
“Well, so does Alfred the Great. Just a different kind of meaning,” Arthur suggested, and he smiled at the memory of the two young boys he had met in the river one day. “Ælfred Æþeling was his name.” Alfred blanched and looked up at Arthur, who raised his eyebrows.
“Was that English just now?” Alfred asked, and Arthur chuckled. “In any case, you said his brother Edward became king, right? Which king?”
“Does the named ‘Edward the Confessor’ ring any bells?” England asked. “Son of Ælthred the Unready, sought after by Sweyn Porkbeard-oh, it was an exciting time. Exciting and equally terrifying. Lots of monarchy take-over. Succession was a bit of a mystery back then. I was barely older than you were when I first went to the New World, so I don’t remember too too much about it.” Alfred laid his head against Arthur’s shoulder, who in turn laid his head on top of Alfred’s as he stared at his book, not really reading.
“...I lied. I like that a lot better.”
“I knew you would,” Arthur replied, burying his nose into Alfred’s hair and kissing him. “He was an amazing man, I promise you.”
Character(s)/Pairing(s): America and England; USUK
Rating: PG
Warnings: Lots of history, and referencing some medieval torture.
Summary: America has always assumed he was named for Alfred the Great. England tells him otherwise.
Notes: I've had this as a drabble for literal months, ever since I first learned about this person in my medieval England class. Anyway, this is my headcanon for why America's human name is 'Alfred'. Boatloads of history, everything was gleaned from my class notes. Please enjoy!
~*~
“So, this guy, Alfred the Great? He was ballin’.” Arthur glanced up from his book to see Alfred slump down into the armchair across from him. They were sitting in the luxurious lobby of the grand Venetian hotel they were staying in for the upcoming European Continental Conference. Alfred was there for kicks.
Arthur licked a finger and turned the page in his book, his eyes trained on Alfred the entire time.
“And what, praytell, made you come to such a conclusion?” Arthur asked, sliding one leg over the other knee thoughtfully. Alfred grinned at Arthur.
“Well, I’m named after him right? I mean, you made that decision, and his name does have ‘Great’ in the title, so I decided to look up some stuff-“
“You know how to do research?”
“-and he did some really amazing things,” Alfred finished, choosing to ignore Arthur’s rude interjection. “Like, like all that stuff with Denmark. And Sweden. Did they really do that to you?”
“What, invade? Yes, it was the Middle Ages, everyone invaded everyone else,” Arthur said, frowning. Why were they talking about this? Alfred sniggered and pulled a Twinkie out of his pocket.
“Oh, get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Well, you put it there. Like how you named me for Alfred the Great!” At that, Arthur lowered his book to his lap.
“Now what makes you so sure you were named for him?” Arthur asked. Alfred shrugged.
“Well, you really pulled that name outta thin air, I gotta admit, and there’s no other famous Alfred in your history, and you were so into me being a colony and all, so I just figured-it’s gotta be this guy.” Arthur nodded slowly, and Alfred smiled triumphantly.
“I mean... those are good assertions,” Arthur said, and even he was momentarily surprised at Alfred’s deduction skills. “But it’s not true.” Alfred stopped chewing and stared at Arthur, his eyebrows twitching above his big blue eyes.
“Wait, what? How can it not be Alfred the Great?” Alfred asked through bits of clotted cream and dehydrated pastry. Arthur grimaced at the sight.
“Can’t you eat like a human being?” he said, and Alfred swallowed, but he moved to the hassock between the two of them and was practically in Arthur’s freaking lap-
“So? Who is it then?” Alfred prodded. “Or-are you going to tell me there isn’t a cool story with my name?” Arthur shushed him by placing one thin finger to his lips.
“Honestly, it’s like you’re still a wee little thing sometimes,” Arthur said, exasperated with Alfred’s actions (as always.) “There is another Alfred I named you for. When I was being forced to come up with a human name for you, well... he was the first person I thought of.”
“So? Who was he?” Alfred asked impatiently. He was acting like a cat begging for more tuna or something equally as ridiculous. Arthur gently pushed on his chest to keep him at bay.
“He was the brother of a dear friend,” Arthur began, and Alfred raised his eyebrows once more. “A friend I wasn’t meant to have. I was still very young-England was still in the process of unifying-and there was a dispute over who should be king, of course.” Alfred rolled his eyes and Arthur knew he was about to make a quip about the uselessness of monarchy, and Arthur steamrolled through his thoughts. “There was a queen who bore several sons, but the youngest two were banished to Hungary after their father passed. She re-married and bore more children, but that man, then king, had other illegitimate children of his own.” Alfred nodded slowly. Arthur cleared his throat and shifted his position.
“The elder of the two banished sons was Edward. His brother was named Alfred. Edward was, of course, the rightful heir to the throne-his older brother had passed long ago-but his mother wasn’t allowing it to happen. It wasn’t until her husband passed, that Edward advanced on the throne.
“But there was an evil man, Godwin, who didn’t want to see Edward on the throne. He wanted Harold, some bastard child or something. I didn’t like him,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “I don’t remember much about him, but I do remember him smelling strongly of sewage.” Alfred stared at Arthur as Arthur scrunched up his face in disgust.
“That’s gross,” Alfred muttered, but now he wanted to hear more about this mysterious Alfred. Was he a knight? Or did he do something equally as brave and awesome? Did he become king of England? Or did he fight for the new king? All sorts of exciting possibilities raced through Alfred’s mind, but he quelled them when Arthur began speaking again.
“When Edward finally became king, I had known him for several years by that point,” Arthur said, staring at a corner of the room. “Godwin wanted Harold to be king, and so he captured Alfred-and poked out his eyes with hot iron rods.” Alfred stared at Arthur, his mouth agape, a look of confusion and disgust in his eyes.
“Wait, what? He had his eyes poked out?” Alfred cried, a little too loudly, and the concierge shot them a dirty look. Arthur rolled his eyes.
“Yes, these things happen. Anyway, Alfred died of his injuries, and well-Edward never got over it. He loved his brother, they were all each other had growing up,” Arthur continued, and his voice became softer. “They were exiled by their own mother.”
“Why?” Alfred asked, but Arthur just shrugged in response. He trained his green eyes over Alfred’s face, and he absently pushed his unruly bangs from his forehead, letting his fingers graze his cheek.
“I don’t know,” Arthur finally answered. “Edward, he was heartbroken. He was in a terrible condition for days and days, and even though I was very young then, I understood that something terrible had happened.
“He pulled me aside and told me to disregard tears, but to cry if you want to. Be strong, but allow your emotions to come out sometimes, or you’ll be...” Arthur trailed off and coughed into his hand, his cheeks flushed. Alfred was listening intently to his story.
“Anyway, I told Edward that I would honor his brother one day, somehow. I remember Edward just thought I was being a foolish child, but I... I never forgot. Even when I was colonizing in other places, the name... I had to save it for something special.” He looked away from his hands and into Alfred’s eyes, and Alfred stared back, his heart pounding in his chest.
“When you were a wee little lad, and I was being pressured into giving you a human name, I looked down at you and I saw him. I saw Alfred. I saw his hopes and dreams, and how, even though he lived in exile, he was still hopeful. And when his brother became king, he helped him as much as he could. He was so optimistic and he just loved his brother so much... he wanted to change the world, I think,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “I was never sure. But I knew I had found the person who would represent such a great man.” The corner of Alfred’s lips twitched into a smile, and he leaned back, seemingly satisfied with the story.
“I like it,” he said as Arthur was picking up his book. “It has meaning.” Arthur grinned and extended his arm to Alfred, who gladly climbed up onto the sofa and curled into his beau’s embrace. Arthur began stroking Alfred’s head, running his fingers through his blonde locks.
“Well, so does Alfred the Great. Just a different kind of meaning,” Arthur suggested, and he smiled at the memory of the two young boys he had met in the river one day. “Ælfred Æþeling was his name.” Alfred blanched and looked up at Arthur, who raised his eyebrows.
“Was that English just now?” Alfred asked, and Arthur chuckled. “In any case, you said his brother Edward became king, right? Which king?”
“Does the named ‘Edward the Confessor’ ring any bells?” England asked. “Son of Ælthred the Unready, sought after by Sweyn Porkbeard-oh, it was an exciting time. Exciting and equally terrifying. Lots of monarchy take-over. Succession was a bit of a mystery back then. I was barely older than you were when I first went to the New World, so I don’t remember too too much about it.” Alfred laid his head against Arthur’s shoulder, who in turn laid his head on top of Alfred’s as he stared at his book, not really reading.
“...I lied. I like that a lot better.”
“I knew you would,” Arthur replied, burying his nose into Alfred’s hair and kissing him. “He was an amazing man, I promise you.”